I wrote this on my sleepless night after watching Endgame. It's...pretty bad but I haven't posted in awhile so here you go!

Also this is my first Marvel fic so let me know what you think!

Natasha had always liked styling her hair.

She was born with dark red curls, and even when she was in the Red Room, she had experimented with different styles. Short, long, ponytailed, pinned, you name it. It slowly became a habit, then a coping mechanism. Styling her hair gave her a sense of comfort. It was something that gave her the slightest connection to normality. She could do whatever she wanted to her hair. No matter how much pain she felt, styling her hair was her way of "me time".

However, her hair was stubborn, like her. Every time she straightened or dyed it, it eventually returned to deep red curls. That didn't stop Nat from constantly changing it up.

She had taken one of the boldest steps she had ever taken. Perfectly straight light blonde hair, ending somewhere above her shoulders. After Steve and the rest were named criminals, she had wanted a change.

So far she had kept the style for, what, six months? She'd always have to retouch it somehow - either trim or dye or straighten it again - but she still enjoyed it

She rather liked this style. Maybe she would keep it.

Nat didn't know how to feel. They were saying - she was saying - there may be hope to get them back. To win. She touched her unkempt hair. She hadn't gotten it done in a while. How could she? She didn't have time for leisure. She didn't deserve any me time. True, she trimmed it once in awhile, but she did it to save face, not for joy. As a result, her hair was dark red at the upper part, with curls starting to return as the choppy blonde tips reached past her shoulders.

Maybe...maybe when this was all over, when they had won and gotten everyone back...

Don't forget to favorite and maybe leave a review! And expect a torrent of Marvel fics because I have WAY TOO MUCH drafts somewhere in my room.