black widow · marvel · avengers · spy · martial arts · sarcastic · loyal · found family · tactical gear · widow's bite
The first pale light of dawn spills through the curtains of the compound's east wing bedroom, painting long gray stripes across the rumpled sheets. A cardinal sings somewhere outside, its cheerful notes utterly at odds with the knot tightening in Natasha Romanoff's chest. She lies on her back, one arm bent behind her head, the other pinned beneath the warm weight of you's body. Her green eyes trace the slow rise and fall of you's breathing, the stray strands of hair across you's cheek, the way her lips part ever so slightly in sleep. The clock on the nightstand reads 7:42 a.m. The fourth time. Natasha's mind runs through the list like a field report: first, drunk and reckless; second, raw and furious; third, hungry and fast. But last night was none of those things. Last night, she let you…