AN: The support I’ve gotten in the past 24 hours has actually been insane and I’m smiling like crazy behind this screen :) This is the very anticipated part 2 and this will become a series!!! Also in this story I imagine reader being 21 in her junior year of college and Natasha being 28 or 29.
Paring: Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Summary: When your babysitter cancels last minute, you have no choice but to bring you daughter with you to your college class. There, you daughter seems to catch the attention of your hot redhead professor.
The next day you found someone to babysit, it was actually someone you used to babysit. Peter had grown into a very sweet and responsible 14 year old and had offered to come over for a few hours so you could go to your classes.
“Remember, the first aid kits under the bathroom sink and-”You ramble to the teenager standing before you.
“I know, I know, I’ve babysat before, don’t worry, I’ll call you if anything happens.” Peter says nodding towards the door.
“Good and thank you again.” You tell him before grabbing your keys and leaving in a rush, you were running late. You run down the stairs, two at a time, if you jogged you should be able to make up for lost time.
It’s awkward and uncomfortable with your backpack, you never should have left track. Although it wasn’t like you left, it was more of being kicked out when word got out of your pregnancy. After you gave birth you never went back, now you wish you had.
You switch to speed walking, Dr. Banner was pretty lenient anyway. It’s ten minutes till when you arrive on campus, you wonder if you hurry you could pick up a coffee before class. You decide that if you run to the math department that yes, you could make it.
You order quickly enough and go to stand by the pick up area, as the minutes pass you start to get anxious. How hard is it to make a vanilla latte?
Your head whips around at the familiar voice, Natasha, Ms. Romanoff, you correct yourself silently. She’s dressed for class, in black pencil skirt and a white blouse that seems too tight around her chest. Your eyes linger for the smallest of moments there, stop looking at her boobs, she’s your professor you think to yourself.
“Not today, I managed to find someone to watch her.” You say graciously, you eye the coffee counter.
“Running late?” Ms. Romanoff asks you.
“Just a bit, I stupidly thought I could squeeze in a coffee.” You say, still kicking yourself for this.
“If you’d like I can write you a note saying that you were in a meeting with me that ran over time.” The woman offers kindly. You look at her shocked.
“Really?” You ask, surprised. Watching carefully as she pulls out a pen and scrap of paper from her purse already writing.
“Who am I making this out to?” The redhead asks, her eyebrow raised in question.
“Um Dr. Banner.” You tell her, shifting from one foot to the other. The face the woman in front of you makes no sense to you. Something in between annoyance and disgust.
“What? He like your ex boyfriend or something?” You joke.
“Ex fiancé actually” She corrects dryly. Your eyes widen so much it should be comical. Ms Romanoff, your English professor used to date-was engaged to your calculus teacher.
“I-” You stutter, trying to form a sentence but you can’t. Your mind is too busy going a mile a minute, trying to wrap your head around the idea of them dating.
“Vanilla latte with cinnamon.” A barista calls out and you nearly jump at the opportunity to escape. You practically snatch the cup from the barista before making your way out.
Your face is tomato red, why did you say that? Where did that even come from? Your English professor wasn’t one to share details about her personal life nor did she seem to have any interest in anyone else’s in your class. Where did that joke even come from? Natasha certainly wasn’t your friend nor did you have an established relationship to make that sort of joke. And since when did Ms. Romanoff become Natasha?
That was a disaster you think to yourself, considering for the second time this week switching English classes.
As you walk in late to your calculus class you realize how stupid you look. Coming in late with a coffee in hand. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
“I’m glad you could make it.” Dr. Banner says, nodding in your direction. To his credit he sounds sincere, and not at all the least bit bother by your tardiness.
Dr. Banner continues his morning monologue of his day as you shuffle to your seat and pull out your books. It’s as he’s speaking you consider how him and Natasha were seemingly opposite. Natasha was stern and particular, speaking in an even tone that kept anyone from interrupting her. Dr. Banner on the other hand was much more lenient, talked in a more causal and familiar way, often getting side tracked with stories of his weekends. How the two ever got together was a mystery to you.
It wasn’t just their obvious differences that made you question how they could ever be a couple, it was just, well Natasha was hot. It wasn’t that Dr. Banner was unattractive persay, definitely not your type, not that it mattered as he was apparently Natasha’s type. It just, Natasha was unbelievable hot and miles out of Dr. Banners league, so how did a guy like him get a girl like her?
Maybe he was really good in bed you think, not to say that Natasha was shallow enough to only care about someone’s skills within the bedroom. There must be something about him that apparently made him good enough for Natasha, and whatever it was you desperately wanted to know.
“Ahhh damn it!” Exclaimed Dr. Banner, this snaps you out of the daze you were in. You watch as Dr. Banner uses a handful of tissues to try and pat dry the coffee spilled all over his plaid shirt. What indeed.
You find that you hate the thought of the two of them together, of them being a couple and doing couple things. Going on dates that ended in the bedroom, you stop not wanting to think about the fact that he’s been lucky enough to see her out of her tight skirts and blouses. That he’s seen so many more versions of her then you have. That particular revelation makes you want scream in frustration.
You don’t though instead you push the thought of them both as far away from you as you can. Besides Natasha said ex fiancé, whatever they had they don’t have anymore. You wonder if you’re a shit person for finding comfort, satisfaction even, in their broken off engagement. Probably.
Ugh. You burry yourself in your work and forbid yourself from giving either of them a second thought. It’s works well surprisingly and before you know it your walking out of class with hate in your heart for Dr. Banner, hate that wasn’t there last time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Mommy!” Is that only warning you get before your daughter collides into your legs. You drop your bag off your shoulder before leaning down to pick Stella up.
“Hi sweetheart, we’re you good for Peter?” You ask, bouncing her as you walk further into your apartment.
“Stella was great, she didn’t give me any trouble.” Peter says.
You nod, placing a kiss on Stella’s cheek as you reach into your back pocket to grab you wallet.
“Oh no! You don’t have to pay me.” Peter protests immediately upon seeing you pull out a few twenties.
“Peter, I’m going to pay you, you babysat for nearly four hours, I’m not just going to give you nothing.” You protest, counting out 60 dollars.
“It’s okay really! I like spending time with Stella, we had fun together. You don’t need to pay me.” Peter says again. You ignore him in favor of folding up the bills and stuffing them in his coat jacket.
“Just take the money, okay?” You give him a pointed look.
“Fine.” Peter grumbles out.
“You must be the first teenager in history to be unhappy about making money.” You tease, reaching out to ruffle is brown hair.
“Yeah, yeah. Bye Stella.” Peter says waving to the toddler as he slipped on his jacket and left.
“Bye Peter, be sure to text me when you get home!” You call out after him from your position at the doorway.
“I will.” Peter promises.
You close the turn behind you, ready to give your daughter your full attention.
“What did you and Peter do?” You ask, bending down to let her stand on her own.
“We played moon pewple!” Stella says, astronauts, Peter and her played astronauts. Your two and half year old called astronauts moon people. You secretly hoped she never grew out of it.
You watch as Stella runs over to behind the couch to get soemthing. A few seconds later she comes back out holding something out proudly.
You look carefully at the thing presented, you learned that your daughter got easily insulted when you didn’t know what some of the things she brought you with. One of the most memorable mistakes being when you thought that a picture of you and her was dog, Stella was not happy.
It was an open cardboard box coved in shiny grey ductape with an large square cut out. You can’t help but be relived, this had to be her more recognizable arts and craft projects, Peter must have helped.
“Is this an astronauts helmet?” You ask.
“Mommy! No!” Stella whines, unhappy that you couldn’t figure out what she made.
You cringe when your daughter informs you that the cardboard box in your hard was not in fact what you thought it was. Damn, you really thought that was an astronaut helmet.
“Sorry sweet pea, can you tell me what it is?” You ask her. You give the box another look, the idea that it was anything other than an astronaut helmet seemed wrong. Though knowing your daughter it could be a giraffe for all you knew.
“Mommyyyy…it’s a moon pewple helmet.” Stella says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
You find yourself smiling brightly at the girl before you, amusement bubbling up inside of you.
“Sweetheart, astronauts are moon people.” You tell her kindly before handing her back the box.
Stella looks thoughtful for a moment before she shakes her head.
You sigh, another time maybe. The sound of your daughters tummy rumbling reminds you that you ought to make lunch. You go over to the fridge ready to maybe maybe a peanut butter and jelly for Stella when you remember that you still haven’t got grocery shopping. Shit.
Change of plans, you and Stella go out for lunch instead. You zip-up pink sweater over Stella and together you make you way to the sandwich shop a few blocks away.
You stop when you see that a small fair popped up on the park grounds you always passed to get to the sandwich shop. Shit, if you had know that this was here you would have gone somewhere else.
You are even surprised when you feel a tugging on your hand.
“Mommy please, pretty please with sugar on top.” Stella looks up at you with the biggest puppy down eyes you have ever seen and before you know if your leading her town the park path toward the fair.
You order a couple fish tacos for yourself and a grilled cheeses with French fries for Stella at one of the food trucks along the street. There Stella munches happily and drinks her chocolate milk contently.
After lunch you buy twenty dollars worth of tickets for a few rides and somehow get bullied into going on the carousel.
You find that you enjoy yourself more than you thought you would, happy to see Stella be so happy. You pay to have Stella’s cheek painted with a little pink monarch butterfly. You even drag her into the photo booth we’re you both make silly faces for the camera.
Your about to offer to buy Stella some cotton candy or ice cream when you notice that she’s nowhere to be found. Pure panic is all that you feel. You scan the crows of people looking for any sigh on her, of her bedazzled pink sweater or a painted butterfly on her cheek. Nothing.
You tell yourself to calm down, you ever the worrier had prepared your daughter for this. Even at her age she could give your phone number and even home address by heart. You always told her to find a family with kids and ask one of the adults for help.
You wander around the fair for the next five minutes, looking around carefully, as the minutes tick by you feel your heart start pounding.
Where could she be? Is it possible that she was kidnapped? Did some grown men snatch her away when you weren’t looking? The possibles were endless. You’re about to call the police when you hear her.
You whip your head in the direction of the shout and there she is, your daughter. She runs straight for you and you don’t hesitate to scoop her up in your arms. You hold her tight, taking a deep inhale of her strawberry shampoo and tell yourself that it’s okay. That she’s okay. As far as you can tell she looks the same, completely unharmed.
“Oh sweetheart, I was so worried, you can’t run off like that.” You say your voice shaking.
“It’s okay, I found Tasha and she helped me.” She says squirming in your arms until you place her back on the ground.
Stella nods, pointing over in a random direction and when you look across you see your professor. She gives the two of you a light wave and makes her way over. You watch at your daughter leaves you again but it’s okay because she runs up to meet Natasha. Again your met with the sight of Natasha holding your daughter on her hip.
“You’re daughters very smart, she walked right up to Laura and said that she couldn’t find her mom.” Natasha says kindly, squeezing Stella affectionately.
Despite the heart attack your daughter had given you just minutes earlier can’t help but nod agree. She did everything you told her to do in case she couldn’t find you.
“Auntie Nat!” You turn see a young girl who couldn’t be more than a year older than Stella run up to Natasha. Following closely behind must be the rest of her family.
Natasha makes a a few interdictions to the Barton family and you meet the Laura she mentioned before. She and her husband, Clint has three children together, Cooper who was eight, Lila who was three and a half and little Nathaniel named after Natasha was ten months old.
Despite the slight age gap Lila and Stella hit it off immediately talking in excited voices about Disney princesses. They invite you and Stella out for ice cream a few blocks down and you find yourself agreeing easily.
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