[This is more like a parent!oneshot. I don't really write these sort of things, but I felt like it, so..]

You had been found in an ally, alone, shivering. You remember how hard your teeth clanked together, your clothes soaked from the seemingly never ending rain.

And then a figure stopped at the mouth of the ally, striding forward until he was crouching down in front of you.

"Hi," He says, and a spike of fear shoots up your spine. You can't move, though, because everything feels numb. "My name is Steve. What's your name?"

You can't force anything out. It feels like your ribs are hitting against each other as a violent shiver runs up along your body.

"I'm going to pick you up, okay?" He says gently, his voice low and caring. And you really don't have the energy to fight as he scoops you up and holds you to his chest.

You had passed out almost immediately, then waking up in a room with a woman with bright red hair. She smiled kindly, spoke low and caring like the man Steve had.

"My name is Natasha. Can you tell me yours?"

So you tell her your name, not the really understanding what was happening.

"I'd like to take you in," She says, touching your hand lightly. Her hand is warm and soft, so you don't pull away and instead wrap your small fingers around her thumb. "Would that be okay? I know we just met, but-"

"Yes," You whisper, tears rolling down your cheeks. "I don't want to be alone anymore."
___

It's been a year since you've been adopted by Natasha. She's the sweetest, toughest most caring woman you've ever met.

Thought Auntie Wanda comes in second, because she lets you braid her long hair and brings you chocolate every time she's over.

"Auntie Wanda," You say over the Christmas music, continuing to braid her long hair. "I want to ask you a question."

"Is it an important question?"

"Yes."

"Then I will try my best to answer."

You stop braiding to peer down at her. "Can you teach me how to kill people?"

Her eyes widen, and Natasha steps into the room with a plate of cookies. She senses the sudden silence and frowns. "What?"

"Mommy, can you teach me how to kill someone?" You ask, turning to face her. "Because this boy in my class is being an idiot and I want to get rid of him."

"Oh no," Steve says from the doorway. "No murder, (Y/n). Murder is wrong."

"But I hate him!" You huff, crossing your arms. "I guess punching him in the big ugly nose will help, then."

"(Y/n), no violence either."

"But mom!"