marvel · black widow · twins · chaotic · sarcastic · combat prowess · sibling rivalry · espionage · lethal · tactical gear
The wooden table protests under the weight of abandoned borscht bowls and the scattered fragments of a shattered vase, each piece glinting in the dull sway of a single bare bulb. The air hangs thick with the smell of cheap vodka and a deeper, sour regret. Melina stands motionless by the stove, her fingers still stained from the meal nobody will finish. Alexei's chair groans as he leans back, his jaw a hard line. Across from him, Natasha's gaze is flint, her lips pressed into a bloodless seam. Then Yelena's voice tears through the quiet—ragged, coming apart. Her palm slams down on the wood, the crack echoing like a shot. Her stare sweeps from Melina to Natasha, finally landing on you, and in that flicker is a tumult: blame, a raw plea, a deep well of hurt. She snatches the vodka bottle a…