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slowly-writing · 4 years

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Normal’s Boring

Natasha Romanoff x Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 2561

Part 2: Life Saver

a/n: This got really long, my bad. I hope you all enjoy it

Being a teenager living in the Avengers compound was a little weird. You constantly had Shield agents running in and out and there was always the fear of an attack. Maybe that was just the collective PTSD of your family, but they made sure you were always prepared. You learned how to fight and protect yourself at a young age, your mom was the Black Widow after all. The fact that you could take care of yourself didn’t change the fact that you essentially had half a dozen overprotective parents. They would all jump to protect you at the first sign of trouble. Having that many people living in one place made sure your life was never boring, that’s for sure.

“Hey, Uncle Tony!” You call as you walk into the compound after school.

“Hey, kid. How was school today?” Tony asks with a smile.

“Fine,” you say with a shrug, “schools boring, I could learn way more here.”

“C’mon, y/n. You need a well rounded education. You have to know more than just how to fight,” Tony argues.

“You guys could teach me! You and Uncle Bruce know way more about math and science than any of my teachers could ever dream of. Uncle Steve lived through all the stuff I’m learning in history right now! Did you know I learned about you guys last week? Do you know how embarrassing it is to have your mom be the topic of class? Everyone made fun of me for days! I stick out like a sore thumb!”

“I’m sorry kid, but that’s part of the experience. You gotta be around people your age sometimes.”

“Wanda’s practically my age! She’s only a few years older than me! She’d go to school with me if you all made her go,” you try and Tony shakes his head.

“This is a conversation you need to have with your mom,” he says, “I’m not getting in the middle of that fight.”

“Where is Mom, anyway?” You ask and Tony avoids eye contact.

“Last second mission, she should be back in a few days,” he explains with a sigh. Everyone knows how upset you get everytime she leaves. Not only is it frustrating that she disappears, you’re worried. You’ve lost track of all the times various members of your family have come back with injuries, some worse than others.

“Any idea where?” You ask and he shakes his head.

“That’s classified, kid. But I’m sure it’s fine. If it was big they wouldn’t have sent her in alone,” he says trying to calm you down.

“She’s alone?!” you yell and he winces.

“Okay, obviously shouldn’t have told you that. She’ll be okay, y/n. She’s the best there is. She always comes back. I promise it’ll be okay,” he says and you nod before silently leaving to go to your room.

This was the worst part of being an Avenger’s kid. Your mom disappeared constantly. You would never blame her for it, of course, she was saving lives. If it wasn’t for her missions she never would’ve adopted you

You were three years old living in Budapest with your family at the time. Hydra had popped up again and your town was caught in the cross hairs. It was chaos, people were down everywhere and buildings were on fire. You don’t remember very much, just being really scared and then suddenly Natasha and Clint were there. Natasha had taken you in her arms and gotten you to safety. You immediately felt safer in her arms. She brought you home with her, and the rest was history.

While her missions were important you couldn’t help but wish you could spend more time together. Growing up you were constantly thrown from Avenger to Avenger. Whoever was available to take care of you became the stand in parent for that week.

You shake your head softly and sit down behind your desk to start on homework.

~~~~

The next morning you were in a bad mood. Everyone was trying to help you out, but nobody quite knew your routine as well as your mom, you just wanted her to come home. Steve woke you up at 4am and you were halfway through getting ready before you realized you were going to be two hours early. You switched gears and got to train with him for a few hours though, which was fun. After a few hours you shower and start getting your stuff ready to go.

Clint had been trying to clean up yesterday and apparently moved your backpack to some mysterious location. You spent the better part of an hour searching the entire compound for it before you find it in Wanda’s room.

“I thought it was hers! You’re both teenagers. It’s hard to tell what belongs to who!” Clint argues and you roll your eyes.

“She doesn’t even go to school, Uncle Clint! Which is completely unfair by the way,” you say pointing at Wanda.

“That’s what you earn when you’re an Avenger,” she smirks and you glare.

“I’ve been here longer, I should be an Avenger by now,” you grumble, jumping on one foot trying to find your shoe.

“Here, y/n. I made you lunch,” Bruce says with a smile, handing you a paper bag.

“Thanks Uncle Bruce!” You say, pausing when you look in the bag. “Hey what kind of sandwich is this?”

“Peanut butter and jelly, why?” He asks and you grimmance as the entire room seems to stop.

“I can’t eat this.”

“Why not?” Bruce furrows his brow as Tony walks over.

“Peanut allergy, man. Are you trying to kill the kid?” Tony yells handing you a few bucks to buy lunch at school.

“Here, Wanda,” you call tossing her the bag. “A genuine school lunch, welcome to the real world.”

“Nobody tell Nat about the peanuts, she’ll flip!” Clint cuts in and you nod.

“Come on, y/n, you’re gonna miss the bus!” Steve calls and you glance at the clock.

“Uh, yeah that ship has sailed.”

“What? How? I woke you up three hours ago!” He yells and you raise your hands in surrender.

“Yell at Uncle Clint! He’s the one who hid my backpack!” you argue.

“Well why’d you leave it in the living room?”

“I’m in high school! That’s what high schoolers do! I guess I’ll just stay home today,” you try and you’re met with four simultanious eye rolls.

“Yeah right, your mom will kill us if we don’t get you to school,” Bruce says and you frown.

“Okay enough. Here, take a car,” Tony says tossing you a set of keys.

“Am I missing the part where somebody taught me to drive?” you ask looking at the keys in your hands.

“You’re seventeen! You don’t know how to drive?” Tony asks and you look around the room.

“Do you see the chaos that sprung from you guys trying to get me ready for school? Do you really think mom would’ve trusted any of you to teach me how to operate heavy machinery?”

“Why didn’t she teach you?” Bruce asks and you smile sadly.

“Do you see her here right now? She’s too busy,” you shrug and Tony sighs.

“Okay, come on. I’ll drive you,” he says leading you to the garage.

xxxxx

You sigh as you pull up to school. The expensive sports car doesn’t really help you blend in.

“Have a good day, kiddo” Tony calls after you as you head inside and you force a smile.

“Thanks, Uncle Tony.”

You can hear the whispers as you walk through the halls.

“How does she know Tony Stark?” a Sophomore whispers.

“That’s Black Widow’s kid! She, like, lives with the Avengers or something,” some Junior girl responds and you shove your hands in your pockets and hurry to class.

“Before we start today, I thought it’d be fun to discuss some more recent history. We’ll be discussing the battle of New York ,” your history teacher states and you sigh, trying to sink deeper into your seat, “Miss Romanoff, why don’t you give us a rundown of what you know.”

“An Asgardian brought an alien army down on New York. The Avengers fought him off,” you stated plainly. The teachers always called you out when it came to anything Avengers related, you hated the attention it brought.

“You must know more than that,” your teacher encouraged.

“Well yeah, my Mom and my Uncles kicked ass, but isn’t telling the class that your job?” you ask and your teacher glares.

“That’s very disrespectful Miss Romanoff. Do I need to call your Mother?”

“Like you’d have the courage to talk to her” You say with a huff, “you’d neve have get ahold of her anyway,” you grumble under your breath.

“Miss Romanoff! This is your last chance, would you like detention?” you know you’re right but you sigh.

“No, sir. I apologize.”

“Okay then, anyone else?”

“Sure made a hell of a mess in the city. It took the city months to rebuild,” a kid named Chad says and you glare.

“Let’s see you fight off an alien army! See how well you do!” You yell, slamming your hand on your desk. You can feel your face getting red.

“I’d at least-”

“Enough!” your teacher cuts you both off. “Battles always cause a mess. Look at any war in American history. Moving on, back to our discussion of World War Two”

“Your family fought in that one too. Maybe you’re the common denominator, Roamanoff,” Chad whispers from behind you and you clench your jaw, your teacher not hearing Chad’s comments.

xxxxx

“You sure are quiet without the teacher here to protect you, huh?” Chad says pushing you into the lockers, “where are your precious Avengers now?”

He punches you and goes to push you again. Your mom made you promise not to start fights when she started training you, but since he threw the first punch you have him on his back before he realizes what’s happening. He looks shocked and you roll your eyes, “I was raised by superheroes dipshit. Now run along and I won’t tell anyone how fast I had you pinned.”

He gets up rubbing the back of his head, he must’ve hit it when he fell. Your not too worried, it’s not like he can get any dumber. He looks at you over his shoulder as he practically runs down the hall. You straighten out your jacket and walk towards your next class.

xxxxxx

“Hey Uncle Steve? Can you help me with this?” you ask, walking into the living room.

“Sure, y/n. What’s your question?”

“I need to know what year Captain America started fighting during World War Two,” you say rolling your eyes.

“I’m part of your history homework?” he asks with a smirk and you nod.

“It’s kind of weird having to answer questions about my uncle for my homework.”

“I know kid, but hey, you have all the answers right here,” he teases and you smile.

“Helping my kid cheat, Rogers?” you hear from behind you and you jump up.

“Mom! You’re home!” you yell crashing into her arms, “Are you okay? How was the mission?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. It was fine, I’m okay.” She says holding you tight, “now what’s this I hear about cheating?”

“It’s not cheating, Mom!” You argue, “the questions are about him! I’m just cutting out the middleman!”

“You’re learning about your Uncle Steve in school?” your mom asks, her brow furrowed, and you nod.

“I learn about all of you,” you tilt your head, “did you guys not realize that? We talked about the battle of New York today. Almost got me sent to the office,” you grumble, crossing your arms.

“What was that?” your Mom raises an eyebrow.

“My teacher wanted me to tell everyone about it! Just because you fought in it! I’m not the teacher! That’s not my job! It’s his! It’s not my fault my family got mixed up in every damn battle in the history of the world” you argue and your mom sighs.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

“What, why?” you ask, confused at the change of tone.

“It can’t be easy, living the life you do. You should get to live a normal life. I should’ve thought of this before bringing you home,” she says, looking down and shaking her head.

“Are you… are you saying you wish you didn’t adopt me?” you asks softly, tears welling up in your eyes. “I know it’s hard having a kid, but you still get to do your job. You’re gone all the time anyway-”

“Hey y/n, no!” her head snaps up and she takes your hands, “adopting you was the best thing I’ve ever done. Don’t think for a second that I regret bringing you home. Honey, does it upset you that I’m gone so much?” she questions and you look at the ground.

“Kinda,” you shrug, “I miss you a lot and everything’s a mess without you. Uncle Steve woke me up too early because he didn’t know what time I got up and I missed the bus and I couldn’t drive myself because I never learned how and Uncle Bruce tried to give me peanuts and I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Please don’t be mad-” you start spiralling and your mom cuts you off.

“Y/n, look at me. I’m not mad,” she says softly, wiping the tears you didn’t even realize had begun falling from your eyes.

“I just get really scared everytime you leave. What if you don’t come back?” you whisper and she shakes her head.

“Love, I will always come back. I promise.”

“But you can’t promise that!” You yell, “people don’t always come back! My birth parents died on one of your missions. I can’t lose you too.”

“Okay, it’s okay,” she pulls you into her arms and you hold on tight. “How about this, I can cut back. I can’t promise I’ll never go on missions, but I can make sure I’m home more. I can teach you how to drive, and I can help you with your homework. I’ll make sure Bruce never touches your food again and I’ll make sure you can have a normal life.’

“Normal’s boring,” you cut in softly, “if I had a normal life I wouldn’t have been able to knock Chad on his ass when he punched me.”

“He what now?” Your mom pulls back with a glare and you’re suddenly very scared for Chad’s life. Your mom is an assassin after all.

“He was making fun of you guys and we got in a fight. But he only got one hit in! You told me not to start a fight and I didn’t! I waited until he did.”

Your mom shakes her head and pulls you into her arms again.

“I’m glad your home,” you bury your face in her shoulder, “I really missed you.”

“I missed you too, love. What about a movie night, just me and you?”

“Yeah!” you look up, seeing Steve has already disappeared and your mom leads you over to the couch.

You cuddle close to her as the movie starts, the safest place in the world to you is still in her arms. Sure, you may not have a normal life, but normal is overrated anyway.

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postfuguestate · 5 years

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Warning: Contains Fanfiction

Soooo...I have the beginnings of a new Chasefield Life is Strange fic. Wroking title: Icon. It is firmly in the genre AU side of things. First draft of the first chapter is below the cut, if anyone is interested...

When her phone starts ringing, Max Caulfield sits bolt upright and scrabbles around the wasteland of her bed until she finds it. She snatches it up and fails to suppress a groan when she sees who’s calling. “Dad! Hey, I’m so sorry I haven’t--”

“Did you die? Have you only recently been resurrected?”

Max flops back on her bed. “Not funny, dad.”

“It’s a crazy world these days. It could happen. But if it didn’t…why haven’t you called back, Max? You know your mom and I worry.”

“I’ve just...been busy.” Max rescues her teddy bear from the suffocating folds of her comforter and gives him a hug. “I’ve been really...busy.”

It isn’t a lie. Not really. Max has been busy taking photographs, putting her work out there, applying for jobs, trying to make something happen. But nothing has happened yet. Nothing that pays enough to maintain her share of the rent on the crappy apartment in a less than desirable neighbourhood in Los Angeles where Max ostensibly lives.

“You found a job?”

“...nothing steady. Not yet.”

“Max…” He covers the phone for a moment, probably to conceal a sigh. His care in trying to mask his disappointment in her only makes Max feel more keenly how far short of his expectations she’s fallen. “Maybe it’s time to come home? For a while, at least. You remember your uncle Pete? He says that Monolith are hiring. They’re a big media company.”

“Dad. I’m a stills photographer.” Max rubs her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Do they need a stills photographer?”

“Be realistic, Max. You’d be starting in data entry. This could be a foot in the door for you! A chance to earn steadily, make contacts...you could move back in with us.” He pauses, but Max is too busy trying to hold herself together to help him out. “Look at this as a chance to actually save some money. And then, a few years down the line, you can go back to freelancing or making art or...or whatever you want! Once you have a stable foundation.”

Max sucks in a breath. She wants to tell him that it’s only been a few months. That she’s making progress, if not money. That she’s learning valuable skills, that she is getting her name out there, that her break will come sooner or later. Max wants to tell him to believe in her talent, but why would he when Max doesn’t?

“It...yeah, it makes sense. Maybe…”

“It definitely makes sense.” He doesn’t try to hide the relief in his voice. Maybe he doesn’t even notice it’s there. Max does. “I wish I could tell you to keep following your dreams, kiddo, but we can’t really...we can’t support you out there any longer, Max. But, I think, I think this will be a good thing. For all of us! Your mom misses you. Obviously I can’t say that I do, let alone that I miss you more, but I can’t help it if you somehow end up thinking that’s true…”

Max almost smiles. “I do miss you guys,” she whispers, blotting out tears with the heel of her hand. “I don’t...I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Maxine. You are not a burden. You hear me? Don’t ever think that. It’s just...it’s been months. We don’t have the...it’s time. To come home. For now, at least. Okay? You’re only twenty-three, Max! You’ve got so much ahead of you. Remember, there are no setbacks! There are only…”

He pauses expectantly.

“Switchbacks,” Max whispers. She clears her throat. “Switchbacks on the road.”

“That’s my girl. It may take longer, but you’ll get where you’re meant to be.”

“Thanks, dad,” Max murmurs. “I...I’ll think about it, okay? I’ll look up buses and stuff. I, uh, I gotta go now, though. I’ve got to...there’s a birthday party thing I’m gonna shoot today.” For a ten year old whose mother took a chance on one of the flyers Max taped to a lamppost last month. “And I’ve got to sort out a portfolio for a magazine, so…”

“Oh, yeah? What magazine?”

Max bites her lip. “...Unmasked.”

“The superhero thing? Isn’t that kinda...tabloid?”

Max’s lip turns white under the pressure of her teeth. She forces her mouth open. “No. It’s a serious publication.” In fact, it’s a glossy gossip factory sprinkled with the odd interview and highbrow cultural commentator trying to make sense of the hero phenomenon. Max is more likely to be doing coffee runs than using her camera, too, but she isn’t about say that to her dad. Not right now. “It’s just an internship, but they pay for pictures of heroes. I, uh, it’s something I’ve been thinking about getting into for a while.”

“Huh. I didn’t think you cared much about the hero scene.” He pauses. Max can hear him breathing, though, so at least he isn’t covering up another sigh. “Max…I hope this pans out. I do. But if it doesn’t…”

“Yeah. I hear you, dad. Thanks for...thanks for looking out for me.”

“No thanks needed. It’s my job! And Max?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. An embarrassing amount, frankly. Let me know about the...magazine thing, and let me know if you need help with the bus ticket. Okay? If, uh, if it comes to that!”

“...okay. Love you, dad.”

Max hangs up, cutting off his response. She tosses her phone aside and hugs Captain to her chest. It took her so long to work up the courage to come to LA looking for work. It took her whole life, all the way through college, to build up belief in her photography, belief that she could cut it as an artist, belief that she could make a living with more commercial applications of her skill.

It’s taken less than five months to whittle away all of her confidence and expose the truth of who Max is: she’s just another young hopeful among thousands, no better than any of them, likely worst than most. How many of the other people like her are lying around crying and hugging their fucking teddy bear instead of chasing down every possible opportunity they can?

Max is a failure. She’s pathetic.

From somewhere under her tangled comforter, her phone starts chiming an alarm.

Max groans. She might be a failure, but she’s a failure who needs to show up for a kid’s tenth birthday party. Max can’t ruin that, too. So with an effort, she drags herself out of bed, hurries through breakfast and a shower and packs up her camera gear.

She’s on the verge of leaving when she remembers her portfolio. Max hesitates, checks the time, then sighs. It seems pointless to make the effort. She’s tried so many times, with so many other publications, and she doesn’t really want to work for Unmasked. But...but if she doesn’t at least send in the application, she knows that it’s the only thing she’ll think about on the bus to Seattle, and every day afterwards.

Max takes ten minutes to tweak her standard cover letter, then uploads it along with the last portfolio she put together to Unmasked’s site. It’s a half-assed effort, but at least she can say she tried.

She makes more of an effort at the birthday party, and actually has a pretty good time. It’s certainly better than any party she’s been to since she became, by numerical reckoning at least, an adult. Max tries not to dwell on what that says about her, and just takes comfort in the fact that she has money for food this week in one jacket pocket and a large slice of birthday cake in a ziplock bag in the other.

The night is young and seems rich in possibilities until the man with the shotgun decides to hold up the convenience store Victoria Chase is in. This was only meant to be a brief detour to acquire cigarettes and candy, but now it looks like Victoria’s whole night is about to be derailed. She stops trying to work out how much chocolate she’ll be able to carry in the pockets of her hoodie--while still leaving room for a pack of cigarettes--and watches the idiot attempt his robbery.

He barges up to the owner of the store, holding the shotgun in shaking hands, and stammers, “The re-register! Give it to m-me! I mean, fuck, the money! NOW!”

There’s some irony in the fact that he’s wearing a mask, Victoria supposes. She is, too, of course, in the form of her hoodie and sunglasses. Both of them want their anonymity, and things they’re not supposed to have. Both of them are going to fuck tonight up for each other.

Victoria could ignore this, of course. The gunman is shooting panicky looks around him, and he’s so unfocused that his shotgun isn’t even pointing directly at the old man behind the counter. The gunman isn’t likely to bother Victoria or any of the other customers in here. He isn’t looking to hurt anyone, and--barring an accident or reckless stupidity--it’s unlikely that anyone is going to die here. Victoria could ignore this, and she could slip away into the night before the police come, and she could go ahead with her clubbing plans.

But she won’t. It only takes one camera, one witness, one person seeing through her disguise and asking why she didn’t act, and then Victoria Chase will come under the wrong kind of scrutiny. The kind of scrutiny that could destroy her reputation, that could destroy her.

“Fuck my life,” Victoria mutters. “I mean, what are the fucking odds?”

Victoria checks her reservoirs as she walks quietly up the aisle towards the robber. It’s more of a reflex than a concern: she has more than enough juice to deal with this idiot. It would be nice to do this anonymously and disappear, but there’s no real way of making that work. Too many witnesses. Since she’s doing this, and appearances matter, Victoria takes her sunglasses off and tucks them into a pocket. She unzips the hoodie and shrugs it off. She’s wearing a white crop top underneath. It isn’t perfect, but at least the colour is on brand.

The old man behind the counter catches sight of her as she clears the shelves. His eyes widen in surprise. The gunman snatches a handful of notes from the old man’s shaking hand, seems to realise from his expression that something’s wrong, and spins to face Victoria. He swings the shotgun round, aiming the muzzle at Victoria’s chest, his finger tightening on the trigger…

Victoria lets a little of the power she has stored flow into her from her reservoirs, and everything seems to slow down around her as her body speeds up. She lunges forward, crossing the last couple of feet to the unfortunate robber, and seizes the barrel of the gun with one hand. Victoria twists the shotgun so that the muzzle is aimed at the ceiling and the robber’s trigger finger is jammed against the trigger guard. Victoria puts her other hand on the idiot’s shoulder and shoves.

Everything reverts to normal speed. The robber yells in shock, though it changes to pain when Victoria’s shove makes his back hit the grubby linoleum and his trigger finger breaks against the unyielding metal of his weapon. Victoria might get into some trouble for that later, but right now she’s firmly of the opinion: fuck this guy.

Victoria leans over and yanks the hockey mask off of his face. “Hi, there! Do you know who I am?”

He whimpers, then nods frantically.

“So we’re done here, right?”

He nods again. He eases his injured hand away from the shotgun, relinquishing it to Victoria, then rolls over and puts his hands on his head.

Victoria resists sighing. She safeties the gun and puts it on the counter. She puts on a smile for the shaking old man as she pulls Taylor’s phone out of her pocket. “Can you handle the call to the police?”

“I...I, of course! Thank you! Thank you so much, I--”

“That’s great!” Victoria says, hoping it doesn’t sound as insincere to him as it does to her. “I’d do it myself, but, you know…”

To her surprise, he laughs, and his shaking subsides. He grins at her, pulling himself upright. “You’ve stopped a crime, so it’s selfie time?”

“Exactly!” Victoria raises her phone, and the old man angles himself into the shot, still grinning happily. Victoria throws up a peace sign, smirks into the lens, dies inside, and takes the shot.

The police arrive ten minutes later, driving the rest of her night irrevocably off the rails. By the time she’s done giving her statement, Victoria’s latest selfie has over a thousand likes on Instagram and her father has texted her to let her know that he’s sent a car and that they are going to Have Words.

“Fuck my life,” Victoria whispers through her best fake smile as she waves and leaves the store, heading for the white Mercedes idling across the street. Victoria groans. “I didn’t even get any cigarettes. Fuck my bullshit superhero life.”

#life is strange fanfiction #my writing #lemme know what you think #if you'd be so kind

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