New beginnings (Natasha/you age regression)

15

Just a filler chapter! I'm really running out of ideas for this book and I really don't wanna have to put it on hold so if you have anything you want to see please let me know!

**

Natasha hums quietly as she makes careful work of combing her fingers through your hair. She was sat in the newly purchased rocking chair placed in the corner of her room with you on her lap with one leg either side of her own, and your tiny hands were clinging to the material of her shirt as you nursed.

It was a little after midnight now, and she thinks it was a nightmare that had woken you. You wouldn't settle back down in bed, so she'd brought you over to the rocking chair in hopes it would help sooth you.

Turns out it was a hit, because the second she'd sat down and begun to rock, you had immediately fallen limp in her arms. You were to little to tell her what your bad dream had been about, so she had made a silent reminder to herself to ask when you were either out of your headspace, or at least a little bit older.

A quiet whimper pulls her out of her thoughts, and when she looks down, she see's that your face was scrunched up in what could almost be described as agitation. Your hands were also clutching her shirt so tightly your fists had turned white, and with a soft frown, she repeatedly traces the pad of her thumb over the soft skin of your cheek.

"Mama's here," she soothes, her voice a gentle murmur. Her lips quirk up at the corners when your face falls into a look of content, your suckles against her breast softening considerably. "There we go, you're okay. Mama's here."

As she lays her head back against the soft cushion of the rocking chair, she couldn't help but let her mind drift.

If you had told her that a month ago she'd be taking care of a mentally traumatised teenager like she was no more than a baby, she would have laughed in your face. Heck, if you told her that just two weeks ago you would probably have gotten the same reaction. Back then, she was struggling with the concept of allowing you to have a pacifier, and now she willingly let you nurse on her breast. It was such an intimate, innocent thing, and she absolutely adored every single second of it.

It really did feel like you were her child. She felt the need to nurture you, to give you everything you had ever dreamed of. It was real. It would always be real. She was your mother, and she never, ever wanted to imagine anything different.

Natasha continues to rock and hum for a further ten minutes before she was sure you were asleep, and after carefully exchanging her breast for your pacifier, she rises to her feet with you in her arms. You were nestled against her front with a leg hanging either side other hips, and your arms were limply hanging by your sides. With one last gentle kiss to your shoulder, she places a hand onto the back of your head and eases you down into bed.

You let out a quiet whimper of which she was quick to sooth, and after tucking you in and pressing another kiss to your head, she was climbing into bed next to you. You seem to instinctively roll over onto your stomach before a tiny hand seems to reach out for contact, and Natasha smiles slightly as she gently grasps it and begins to graze the pad of her thumb over your skin.

She figures letting you sleep with her would be a more guaranteed way you'd sleep through till morning, and boy did you both need it.

*

The next day, Natasha decides it would be nice to get you out of the house for a while. You were getting antsy and whiny being stuck in doors, and nothing Natasha suggested seemed to keep you entertained for longer then ten minutes. An indoor play area had initially seemed like it would be good idea, especially with how little you were, but then she realises both of you would probably be warranted with a lot of stares and questions.