marvel oneshots

romanoff | believe in her ( f )

summary - natasha romanoff went from being your biggest headache to your baby mama, and you wouldn't change how it happened for the world, even if it broke your heart and almost your body a couple times

word count - 1.7k

When you first met Natasha Romanoff, she was just an employee for Pepper Potts; the same as you. You had been envious of her tight red ringlets and easy wit. Everything you wanted was just handed to her. For months the two of you went head to head on everything. Natasha thought the drapes in Peppers office should be blue, you thought they should be red. You were quite easily the most infuriating person Natasha had met. Maybe that's why she fell for you so hard.

Those first few months of your relationship are buried deep in your memory. You hate how petty and insecure you'd been. Natasha however, loved reminding you. Even after the two of you had smoothed out your kinks and traded in being hot headed rivals for loving girlfriends, she'd get on your case about it. Natasha Romanoff let nothing go. Ever.

It had taken her years to open up to you about her past. You're thankful for that. If you'd known her story earlier, you wouldn't have been shy to the idea of putting a bullet in Dreykov's head by yourself. You were impulsive, irrational, led by your emotions. As much as Natasha thought your lack of clarity was cute, had she told you about her past when you'd first met, you wouldn't have lived to your twenty-sixth birthday. What Natasha had never been shy about, was wanting kids.

She'd always said she wanted four. Three was an odd number, and two wasn't enough. On nights when you couldn't sleep, she would pull you in by your waist and tell you about her childhood. She'd tell you the bad things, but she'd dwell on the good things. She told you all about Yelena and Melina. About how good of a mother you'd be if you were given the opportunity. She told you about how when she was sterilized, during her recovery she thought about holding an innocent baby in her arms that was half her and half somebody she loves. She told you that she wished for a daughter. A daughter with her green eyes and the hair of somebody she loves. She told you that she would've named her Luna. She never cried about it. She'd just smile fondly, holding back her tears as she twists your hair around her fingers.

A year before things had somehow gotten worse for Natasha and yourself, you started your journey in trying to get pregnant. Two months before the both of you fled the states and almost died (multiple times), you'd attempted your first shot at pregnancy. You wish you'd known that it was successful when her little sister held you at knifepoint in Budapest, or when you'd finally gotten your chance to hurt the man that spent his life hurting your girl. You would've done things differently. Natasha had already been hurt so many times, you'd never forgive yourself if this good thing had been ruined by your eagerness to end her lifelong fight. If you'd lost your baby, your heart would've broken in a way that wasn't fixable. Even after falling out of the sky and being shot by mind controlled women, suffering broken bones and lacerations, you were still pregnant. There was still a baby growing inside of you; a baby that although wasn't technically half Natasha and yourself, was already a stubborn little fighter like your partner.

You'd found out a few months after being detained by Ross. After suffering near paralyzing headaches, bouts of nausea and intense food aversions for almost an entire week with no explanation, you had reluctantly let Natasha take you to the doctors. It was a Monday, just after three in the afternoon, and you were days away from entering your sixth month of pregnancy. Your sixth month of pregnancy with a little girl that you hoped would have Natasha's heart.

You'd been forced to tell Natasha's family over a phone call. After nearly fainting at breakfast with the team, your doctor had advised for a temporary bedrest. Natasha, already being overprotective without the encouragement from a professional, had placed you on lockdown for the better end of your pregnancy. Only when you started contracting did she let you stand on your own, hunched over the bed and wincing with every tight squeeze in your lower back, wanting nothing to do with her or anyone else.