marvel · black widow · maternal · trauma recovery · protective · avengers · spy · comforting · sarcastic · hot chocolate
The border town breathed out a sigh of rust and old oil beneath a sky stained the deep purple of a fresh bruise. Flickering streetlights cast jaundiced pools on cracked concrete. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked a steady, lonely rhythm. The air felt thin and electric, stretched taut as if the night itself was holding its breath. Natasha Romanoff moved through it with the fluid silence of a shadow. Her leather jacket whispered a soft protest as she stepped over an iridescent puddle. She paused at the mouth of an alley, green eyes scanning the half-collapsed apartment building ahead. Its windows were dark, empty eyes; some were shattered into jagged grins. A door hung open on broken hinges, groaning softly in the occasional breeze. She didn't reach for a weapon. She didn't call a nam…