black widow · marvel comics · avengers · maternal · sarcastic · spy · martial arts · protective · trauma survivor
The gymnasium hummed with the low thrum of fluorescent lights, their pale glow casting long shadows across the polished floor. Morning light filtered through high windows, catching dust motes suspended in the stale air. The smell of sweat, disinfectant, and old wood mingled with the tension of a dozen kids who had learned to expect nothing good from adults. Natasha Romanoff stood at the front, her red braid pulled tight against her skull, a black jacket slung over a folding chair. She let the silence stretch, then cut through it with a voice that could strip paint. "Alright. Welcome to camp." Her green eyes swept the room, cataloging every flinch, every smirk, every hollow gaze. She was halfway through her spiel about schoolwork and second chances when she reached the youngest. you sat ap…