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— I’m a spy. I’m a fighter. Lately I’ve felt more like a soldier than a spy. And if that’s what the world is asking for. . . I’m happy to oblige. ❞
natalia romanova. black widow.
written by #ᴄᴏsᴍᴏs ˎˊ˗
This? AGAIN?
Pulls a pillow over her head and holds it tight against her ears. He’ll get bored eventually, right? Right?
Starts blasting ‘𝓑lack Widow’ by Iggy Azalea in @widowswarfare’s room while she’s napping.
If he doesn’t cool it, she’s going to drop being nice and fully wrestle him into healthy submission.
“Fine, but we’re not getting olives on the pizza. I won’t suffer that again.”
Cute that he thinks she prays, or that she’d spend her prayers on him.
Now she’s steering him out of the apartment, hands on his shoulder blades to 𝙥𝙪𝙨𝙝.
“Pizza box is in the trash, we’re getting new pizza. C’mon, Clinty.”
She’s taking @DEATHBYTHEARROW out for real food.
No more of this week-old Chinese take-out crap. She’ll even let him choose the place.
Not if he’s going to call her 𝘕𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘺.
No, she’ll take Jess for early morning diner dates, thanks very much, 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘺.
She means. . .
If he is recognizable as Clint Barton at the end of this, she will be pleasantly surprised.
Nat hasn’t blinked, but her eyes are watering. She has points to make.
“It’s real... as far as I can tell.” She will not be adopting anything like Goose, there’s enough of that one as is. “It’s more like I *got-slash-it-wandered-into-my-apartment* a cat.”


