Natasha Romanoff x Daughter One Shots

OVERWORKED

NATASHA X DAUGHTER READER
Y/N'S AGE : FIFTEEN YEARS OLD
TYPE : FLUFF
PROMPT : Natasha's been working herself to exhaustion and you try to make her feel better.
EXTRA : Sorry if the Russian is wrong, I used google translate.

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Y/N'S POV
It's been quite hectic in the compound these past few weeks, making everyone go absolutely insane. With the recent resurfacing of HYDRA, Mama has been on missions almost every single day and night or she's been busy writing mission reports.

"Mama?" I try, feeling the amount of the stress radiating from her.

There she is, on her desk, the same as usual, busy looking at thousands of documents and whatnot.

Since I don't get an answer as she's too engrossed in the papers on her desk, I try again. "Mama?"

She sighs loudly, looking up at me. "Sorry, детка (baby). I'm really busy. Do you need anything?"

Even though she sounds exhausted, her tone is still caring and soft, which makes me internally frown.

I stutter a bit, not exactly knowing how I can make the situation any better. "I-I just thought you maybe needed a break? You look really tired, Mama."

She half smiles, licking her chapped lips. "I know I do, sweetheart. But I really do need to get these done."

I sigh, letting it go as I know she's the most stubborn woman on the planet. "Okay, call me if you need anything."

She grins, beckoning me over for a quick cuddle. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Do you even know how tough your Mama is, mhm?"

I nod against her chest, lowly giggling, then slip away from her grasp and leave her office.

A few hours later, the Avengers are called in for an emergency meeting. Obviously, I don't get to be there as I'm way too young to be involved in missions. However, I definitely seize the opportunity to eavesdrop. Hearing groaning and whining, they all come out looking disappointed and tired.

"Mama, what happened in there?" I whisper, attempting to ease the situation.

"Nothing, Y/N. Just more work. Can you please quickly get me a vodka on the rocks so I can get through today." She rambles, nervously clutching her messy hair.

Instantly confused, I pull a face. "It's two in the afternoon..."

"I don't care what time it is, please just do it." She begs, pouting her lips to lure me into her demand.

I chuckle, understanding her moodiness and nervousness right now. "Alright... Just please try not to turn into an alcoholic?"

"Oh, shush, you. Stop it with the dramatics." She teases, playfully poking my sides and tickling me.

"Okay, okay! Останавливаться! (Stop!)" I cackle, then make my way to the bar.

Since Mama's occasionally the bartender at small gatherings because she thinks it's fun, she always teaches me how to make fun drinks and obviously educates me about the dangers of alcohol. We're very open with each other so I'm very comfortable in asking her questions about anything and everything.

Once I'm done, I bring the drink up to her office then knock on the door.

"Come in!" She answers, sounding quite agitated.

The sight I'm met with when I swing the door open is definitely not what I was expecting. Papers are laying all over the place and she looks like she's frantically looking for something specific.

"Jeez, what are you doing. Let me help." I raise an eyebrow, containing my laughter. This definitely isn't funny but her state just is, I can't not laugh.

"What are you laughing at, rascal?!" She exclaims, clearly holding in her laughter as well, then she throws a few files at me.

"Hey! What did I do?!" I squeal, bending down and throwing papers at her too.

"Shut up! Give me the drink before you drop it!" She groans, getting up and having a large sip of it.

As if we're telepathically connected, we stare at each other for a few seconds, then start aggressively throwing papers at each other.

"What the hell were you even looking for in the first place?!" I yell, keeping my stamina as I shoot more papers at her.

"Doesn't matter!" She smirks, then suddenly dramatically lays down on the pile of papers we've created.

I jump on top of her and she huffs, then whines. "Move! You're heavy!"

"Are you calling me fat?!"

"Oh, don't go all delusional on me." She coughs dramatically, pushing me off of her.

We look around the room, seeing the exceptionally filthy jungle we've just created, then sigh. "Yeah... I'll just call Wanda so she can solve this."

"I don't care what you do, this was so relieving." She adds, staring at the ceiling, out of breath.

We're unquestionably the perfect definition of mother and daughter.