Scarlett/Natasha's daughter one shots

sick? < nat >

y/n's age: 15
natasha's age: 36
plot: you're sick🤷‍♀️
warnings: none?
a/n: in honor of the tiktok i just saw that had my story in it, i've made this chapter. sorry that i've been gone for so long. school is back as yk and i've just had no motivation to write

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school has started back up and you're off to a horrible start. you have all AP classes this year, as a sophomore. as if the one AP class, you took freshmen year wasn't enough. you didn't have the best attendance when it came to school.

something always got in the way of you going. whether it was that you were under the weather, or if natasha was on a mission and you were missing her, or if you just really didn't wanna go. natasha wasn't too strict on your attendance, she just wanted to do what was best for you mental health.

this year your main goal is to get good grades, for the fact that if you don't you'll feel like a failure. you've already missed a hand full of days since school started, and now you're really sick.

"but mom, i'm not sick." you say right before you let out a sneeze. "bless you. the sneezes don't lie y/n. i know it's friday so it sucks to find out you're sick but you are in fact sick." natasha sighs, having repeated this to you ten times already.

"i'm gonna be fine for school on tuesday right?" you ask, as you watch natasha make you soup. "uhm, i highly doubt it. you'll probably be sick for an entire week, i'm not very sure about colds. i'm russian so you know i don't get sick." natasha shrugs, making you roll your eyes.

"i'm russian too though? hence the fact that i'm your daughter. unless i'm not? and i was born from another crazy red-headed green eyes freak?" you questioned, resting your head on the island.

"you are definitely my daughter, but you're more american russian. if that makes sense. you're a russian who was born in russia but lived most your life in american so you're basically american. that's why you have a cold right now." natasha says, making you groan.

"so basically what you're saying is that you hate me so much that you raised me in america, just so i can get sick?" you ask, making natasha scoff. "well when you put it like that, i guess i did." she shrugged, "you should be thanking me, this means no school."

"that's the problem mom, i have tons of school work." you groan, just thinking about the piles of work you have. "really? it's only like what the fourth week?" natasha asks, stirring the chicken noddle soup. "yes, it is the fourth week. that's more than enough time to start the first assignment."

"hmm, i guess. i never went to a normal school in russia either so i wouldn't know. so i'm pretty much just living my american life through you." natasha says, kissing your forehead. "what were schools like in russia?" you ask, curiously. "i wouldn't know. never went to a normal one. i was in the red room most of my life, which you know about for the most part. although, i did have this mission once when i was around 7 and i wore my red hair in two ponytails. i actually loved that school and if you were still in elementary, i would definitely have thought about enrolling you." natasha says, as she pours your soup into a bowl.

"i'm sorry." you frown, feeling guilty that she never got to experience normal kid things. "for what?" natasha asks, her eyebrows knitting together. "for asking. i shouldn't have." natasha frowns at your statement. "there's nothing wrong with asking, detka. you're curious. there's nothing to be sorry for, it's not your fault." she says, kissing your forehead and passing you your soup.