Date: May 31, 2023
Words: 1745

~ Author's Note ~

Lyrics belong to Billie Eilish, Ocean Eyes

Natasha is 11 weeks pregnant

IMPORTANT - HELP: What do you think is the worst thing Alexei could say to Natasha and Melina? (Like I need it to be really hurtful and painful to hear...)

WARNINGS: Comfort Smut (First Half of the chapter), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con (Last half of the chapter)

I've been watchin' you for some time
Can't stop starin' at those ocean eyes

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Netherlands
2: 56 – July 27, 2016

The moon is high in the sky, stars dancing from every direction, while a soft breeze flows through the opened window. It's peaceful here. There is not a single person within a twenty-mile radius and if they're lucky, they will manage the supplies they have and not need to go into town for a couple of weeks.

Natasha sighs, shaking the thoughts away, while using her fingers to draw multiple figures over Steve's toned abdomen. His arm is wrapped around her protectively, as her head rests against his chest. She smirks lightly, raising her head up to look him in the eye.

"I think we should do that again," Natasha begins.

"Ahhh... you do?" Steve smirks, gently pulling her body closer to his. "I think I can go along with that idea. But you're going to wake some of the others up if you don't be quiet."

"Me?" Natasha questions, gasping dramatically, as she sits up to turn her body toward his direction. And she shifts over his body, positioning herself to straddle his waist. "It's you they need to be worried about."

The redhead leans forward, pressing her lips urgently over his. He responds immediately, his fingers waving through her hair. She curls her fingers around his neck, breathing in his rich vanilla scent, while pushing herself away. The blonde watches her carefully as she begins to chew softly on her bottom lip.

Steve wraps his arms around her waist, before shifting her underneath him. He's careful with her growing belly not to place any extra weight on it, shifting himself onto his side. His ocean-blue irises stare into the depths of her intoxicating emerald greens. And he hovers his lips tauntingly over hers, as he slips a hand down the curve of her waist.

"You're beautiful," Steve whispers, pressing his lips into hers. It's a soft and gentle shower of affection, and not at all like their previous passionate kiss. But it's just as meaningful. Just as important.

Steve pulls back, tracing circles over her hip, there's a question lingering within his eyes. And Natasha smiles lightly, nodding her head in permission for him to move along his plans. He gently presses forward, his fingers slipping down between her legs, as his lips glide down the delicate skin of her neck.

Her body is beginning to tremble beneath his, while he guides a finger over her clit. He teases her by starting off slow before increasing in speed, causing a gasp to slip past her lips. She wraps a hand around his waist, her body shifting slightly. And he smirks, taking a deep breath of her intoxicating scent. He loves the effect he has on her.

Natasha moans softly, while he rubs two fingers inside of her. She feels the fire burning alive within her veins, and her breathing is coming in heavier and heavier. He waits until his fingers are slick with her arousal, before freeing his fingers and positioning the tip of his cock in front of her center.

Steve takes it slow, thrusting into her in long and gentle strokes. But Natasha digs her nails into the skin on his back, shifting her body beneath him. The blonde holds her tighter, stopping her from moving. He tilts his head to stare into her emerald irises, watching her carefully as he continues to pound into her.

"Faster," Natasha pleads, gasping for air. She feels her muscles clench around him, her body shaking softly, as it's overwhelmed with pleasure. And soon she can feel him coming inside of her.

Steve gasps, chuckling softly, as his body finishes. He feels himself soften as a result, before he frees himself of her hold. Her body is trembling, aftershocks surging through her veins. His body falls back against the bed, one hand resting comfortingly beneath his head, as the other reaches to pull her closer.

Natasha smiles brightly, leaning into his arms. It's nice here. In this room, where it's just them. There's nothing to worry about. Because right now, they are wrapped in each other's arms. And it's perfect. For the moment, it is peaceful.

They can worry about Ross in a couple of hours. When the sun is up and everyone else is awake, they'll focus on every other problem they have. Focus on searching for Rose. On protecting their location. About Wanda. It is a never-ending cycle. But for a moment, it's just him and her. Just Steve and Natasha.

Her stunning emerald irises stare into his blues. Steve smiles, placing a hand against her cheek. He rubs his fingers along her jaw, pulling her closer to his chest, as his lips collide with hers. Their kiss is gentle. Soothing and meaningful.

And Natasha smiles, her lips hovering over his, before gazing deep into his eyes. She leans forward, pressing her forehead against his, breathing his captivating rich vanilla scent.

"I love you," she whispers.

"I love you, too," he smiles.

XX

Saint Petersburg, Russia
4:25 A.M. – July 27, 2016

The assassin remembers the late nights in Ohio vividly, so similar to the late nights she's had recently. She has spent years trying to forget that part of her life. The one part that was so good and so very real. Where two little girls became the light in her very dark life. And it all fell into place.

Melina was a mother. For three years.

A little redhead would follow her every move, but was so afraid of touch. And it took months to gain an ounce of trust. But eventually, Melina did. In the end, the timid seven-year-old turned into a bright ten-year-old. Whose heart was beautiful. And still is to this very day. Her big girl is a loving woman, who still manages to care about the world that has offered her nothing but pain.

And her innocent little blonde ball of light, who was the complete opposite of her sister. Her baby, who believed in fairytales and Santa Claus. The one who trusted any person who smiled in her direction. And her little baby's grown up now. She's a woman exploring the world and saving the very women who have suffered the same as she has.

They made everything worth living.

Those two little girls taught her to love.

Melina wanted to protect them. But she failed.

She has failed in so many ways. Dreykov had broken them. Beat them. And has done so many unspeakable things to her girls. Melina has failed. She didn't protect them from Dreykov. Or the trainers. Or guards. But for three years, she was a mother.

And she didn't let a single soul touch them.

Especially Alexei.

For three years, she protected them in a way a mother would. They didn't see his drunken rage or the bruises he left in the night. The soldier wasn't good at listening to her wishes. And she covered so many bruises. Had to manipulate so many worried suburban wives into the false truth she spread on her web.

Much like now...

Except it's harder to manipulate Widows.

The woman – some still girls – have been trained to detect the lies or half-truths she sends their way. So, as a result, she just leaves them alone. They come to her for shelter, a safe place to stay for a few days or weeks. In return, Alexei is not around them.

Melina keeps him occupied. Like last night.

The brunette sighs, subtly turning her head toward the man resting against the other pillow. He's asleep. Tired from their rough little hustle. And she shifts slowly, as if the slightest movement can wake the sleeping monster from his slumber. Ignoring the ache throbbing between her legs, she grabs her sweater discarded on the floor and quietly heads down the hallway.

Luckily there's no Widow in the kitchen. Normally, it's a frequent hangout, some of the assassins searching for a way to soothe their nightmares. But tonight there's no one there. She quickly grabs her secret stash of vodka, immediately swallowing the poison from the bottle, and only then does she allow her body to rest.

The brunette crosses her arm across her body, as her hand clenches the bottle tightly. And the other presses along the delicate skin of her forehead. It's only getting worse. Alexei is different. Wilder. More chaotic without a mission to keep him in check.

And fuck, she doesn't know what to do anymore.

She doesn't know how much more she can take.

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I'm scared
I've never fallen from quite this high

XX

~ Author's Note ~

Any questions? Ideas?

...so, the bottom half of this chapter was really fun to write. Just diving into Melina's thoughts and mental health is interesting. She's hurting so much, but will not attempt it. Thoughts?

XX

Next Chapter:

Try to follow your light, but it's night time
Please, don't leave me in the end

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Fuck - fuck. Her hands are shaking, the air struggling through her lungs. The blood is soaking into her hands, staining them a bright red. It's all over the floor. Though she tries frantically to clean her mess, it's no use. Her thoughts are too scattered to concentrate, and she can feel the panic blooming through her soul.

She remembers the moment clearly. The moment that everything changed and she snapped. His hands were wrapped around her baby's throat. He was shoving her against the wall, cutting off her air supply. And she had to make him stop. She's warned him before – by saying it was trauma related – that he was not allowed to touch any of the girls.

And ahh fucking course, he didn't listen.

He was too busy drowning himself in alcohol, too busy losing himself to care about the consequences. He has no sense of purpose. There're no missions to keep him on track. No Dreykov to order him around. He is losing himself. Hurting those around him.