Natasha Romanoff One Shots

Mama's Here ~ A/F

Words: 2.9k
Relation: Familial
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Triggers: Child "death", sadness turned happiness, some trauma 

Hi! sorry that it's been a while, life has been life-ing and university has been university-ing. But I finally got around to this request! "can u do a fic where Natasha had a daughter in the red room but she got taken away from her when she was a baby. Natasha got told that her daughter was dead and didn't tell anyone about her not even Clint. But one day the avengers have a mission to raid a hydra base where nat finds her daughter who is like 4 now and her daughter knows all about her because the guy that took her was trying to train her like her mother so she's seen pictures and just like calls Nat mama when she sees her and can u do everyone's reaction to meeting Natasha's daughter please :)"

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Mama!Nat - non-canon timeline

A baby cries as Natasha looks down at the bundle in her arms. Her little blue eyes, her button nose, the small tuft of red hair, the tiny fingers wriggling in discomfort from being brought into the world and out of the comfort of her Mother's womb. As Nat's fingers gently ran down the side of her daughter's face, her tears began falling. She tried to keep it together, but even with the smile planted on her face from looking at her baby, a permanent frown ruined the picture. She knew what was coming.

As soon as the Doctor's determined that the baby would be okay away from her Mother, her baby would be taken away from her. The Red Room was cruel. As she stared down at the infant who had now wrapped her entire hand around one of Nat's fingers, a muffled voice broke through the room. It sounded warped as though she was underwater. Confusion clouded her mind as a man kept saying her name.

"Natasha!", Clint's voice harshly ripped her back to reality, she turned to face him with a frown, needing a few seconds to shake out the memories as they stood in the middle of the store. "You okay?". She went to answer but the cry of the baby that took her into her memories in the first place interrupted her again as her face snapped to look at the pram on the other side of the aisle. She watched with a clenched heart as the Mother picked up her baby and bounced her knees up and down gently to soothe her child.

After a few moments, she turned back to her friend with a practised smile "I'm okay", she told him, ignoring the way her fingers were trembling in her jacket pocket. Clint accepted the answer with a reserved shake of the head, clearly not fully believing it but knowing better than to push. So, as they gathered some more food for their weekly shop, he made sure to throw a few more of his best friend's comfort snacks into the cart as she slowly trailed behind him, oblivious to what was going on in the rest of the world.

Natasha never told anyone about her daughter. About her baby. She couldn't bring herself to do it, even to the Avengers whom she now called family. Her daughter had died. She had been ripped out of her arms at merely a few days old, they gave her the opportunity to name and hold her child before taking her away. She died from a congenital disorder a few weeks later. She saw the infirmary paperwork, the photos, the documentation. Holding the death certificate of her baby was the last memory she had of her, and she just couldn't bring herself to talk to anyone about it.

The few days she got with her infant were the best days of her life, she didn't want anyone else to know about them. To pity her. She would remember her daughter in her own way, and that way didn't involve letting anyone else in on it. Even now, four years later, she thought of her every day, but some days were harder. Especially when there were triggers. She couldn't look at someone else's baby without feeling like her heart had been ripped out of her chest. It's why she made excuses not to see Clint's son until he was about two years old, always claiming she was busy. Even then it still hurt a bit, seeing what her child could have been like if the universe was less cruel.