Le_Tournis
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Melina could handle the nine-year-old, but in so many ways, she couldn't mother Natasha. She'd been fighting her since day one, about almost everything; homework, clothes, accents, names, foods. It seemed worthless to both of them. And it had occurred to Melina that maybe they were just too similar, but it didn't fix the problem. Melina didn't know what she would have needed at that age, for she had never been given the opportunity to live outside of the Red Room aside from this very assignment. She'd been undercover, but never involving more than one other partner. Now she was responsible for Alexei, and these two girls. Natasha was always the problem-child. It didn't matter how naughty or sad Yelena got, it was always Natasha's silent anger which stung her the most.
In other words, Natasha and Yelena's short-lived childhood of three years on the Ohio mission, graciously extended by another two years.
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What Happens in Budapest, Stays in Budapest by Le_Tournis
Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe
25 Apr 2025
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And as for Natasha, this was it. She was laying the kill out for him, neat and nice, might as well have been a bow on top. As she lay on the ground waiting to die at the hands of an American, it occurred to her that it had to be over at some point anyway, so wasn't now a fitting time as ever? Natasha was the one staving off her fear with a fucking daydream. She'd given into a feeling so hopeless that it breached all of her confidence, and that years ago she'd believed was emptied completely from her system. She'd thought Dreykov had drilled it out of her. But clearly, Natasha was lying to herself. She hadn't grown up at all. She was still trying to find something to pray to. Did it console her or terrify her now? Did she have enough time to remember believing in something?
There she was still, gun to her head, back flat on the floor, arm aching like it had been sawn off, panting like a wet dog in the heat as she noticed that he looked down at her with something far worse than vengeance—pity. She breathed in, and the unsettled feeling slowed down into her. Why was he taking so long?
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Sweet Little Sixteen by Le_Tournis
Fandoms: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2016)
22 Apr 2025
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Olive was good at playing with the younger children. Better than Emma and Enoch were, anyway. Olive didn't even have to join in on their games for them to play with her. She could entertain them with her ideas, thoughts, or with a way of speaking that Emma just didn't have. Olive wasn't boring, nor would she accept to play a game she thought was a waste of time, so she would just invent a new one. And Enoch could play, thought Emma, but he chose not to. The kids liked him, even when he was distant. The boys thought his meanness was admirable, and maybe the little girls found him charming, or father-like in some strange way. And Olive was like a mother, now that Emma thought of it. What did that make her? Dismissive, cold, removed. She wasn't sure that she even qualified to be a member of their weird little family. Sometimes the thought that she'd traded in a life of emancipation for one which had stripped her away of her freedom to leave completely haunted her, even when she knew it wasn't true.
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Forwards Beckon Rebound by Le_Tournis
Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Black Widow (Movie 2021)
18 Oct 2022
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Yelena, the barely-toddler, was running around naked from head-to-toe, squealing with no regards to filter any of her childish words, no matter how ridiculous and curious they sounded. Yelena's face was lit up with pure gold, challenging the newfound government system which appeared to be a maternally incompetant Melina and a mostly amused, but somewhat annoyed Alexei. Ten-year-old Jules had been left dumbfounded on the sofa, wondering where her role in all of this might have been. Seven-year-old Nat had sat not so far away from her, possibly wondering the same thing. How could this have been more important than an assassination? This could not have been a real mission. It all seemed too... Well, good.
The first week had been the worst of it. Exhausted Melina and Alexei had arrived at an incredibly busy airport somewhere in New York City with a fussy and teary-eyed toddler who could not remember the difference between her biological parents and new, along with two unimpressed, traumatized, and overly mature little girls, one shy; one too sarcastic for her own good.