WRITE WITH ME.
PSA:Just because I’m not replying to our thread, or your starter doesn’t mean I don’t want to roleplay with you. I’m just slow. Somedays I can write a fucking book, somedays I can’t even write my own name. It’s in the drafts I promise I am just slow as hell.
I’ll Speak. You’re Easy:.
"Boss?" the bartender asked when Natasha approached.
Natasha set the empty glass on the counter, as she glanced up. She could tell by the sound of his voice she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
"The Squints," he nodded at the group of barely legal kids at the end of the bar that looked like they belonged in a library far more than an establishment like the Widow, "just informed me that Stark’s place was just raided."
Stark was the Widow’s only real competition in an otherwise uncompetitive venture. His pockets were deeper than her fathers, but he was too flashy and had a habit of playing his hand too soon, which meant, Natasha always won, so him getting raided wasn’t what bothered her. What bothered her was the fact that she didn’t even know the Iron Maidan had reopened since the last time the local authorities demolished what they could and took the rest. Someone was keeping Natasha out of the loop, and she was damned if she wasn’t going to draw blood until she found out who.
Natasha nodded at the empty glass in front of her. “You know what to do, Eddie.”
He poured the scotch into the empty glass, and set a glass of clear liquid down next to it for Natasha. “What about the newcomer?”
She glanced back at the man who’s table she had just left. She didn’t think it was a coincidence that Stark would be raided the same day this stranger showed up in her bar. “I’ll take care of him.” She looked back to Eddie, “calm and steady, Eddie, like always.”
Not that the Widow was ever raided, but they did have a plan, just in case.
She picked up both glasses and made her way back to Clint. “Drink up, sailor,” she said setting his glass down and clinking hers against it, “and then get the hell out of my bar.”
She swallowed back the liquor in one gulp, finding solace in the burning sensation it left in it’s wake.
He drank with a smirk, slow and steady.
"It was gettin a little cold in here anyways," Clint replied, eyes impassive as they met hers over the rim of his glass. He watched her down the liquid, impressed despite himself.
"Bet I could find a way to warm it up," he said, sliding a slip of paper with his name and an address on it. "I’m only in town for a little while, but if you find yourself without a thing t’do- you look me up." Clint stood and finished his drink, tugging on his coat. He tipped his hat to the bartender with a half-smile and then pressed a folded bill into her hand.
"For Eddie. We go way back," he said, and left without an explanation. He’d be back to see her, to scout the place soon enough; he’d made an impression, for sure.
Natasha glanced down at the crumpled bill in her hand, “Eddie?” She was questioning herself, questioning the air, questioning anyone who could explain why this stranger - the one who seemed to be at the bottom of a whole mess of things that were currently happening in her father’s city - knew the one she trusted most.
Her eyes traveled from the bill, to the piece of paper on the table, to the stranger putting on his coat. She’d take him up on his offer. She’d find him at that address, fuck him until they were both dripping in sweat and reeking of sex, before she’d put a knife to his throat and gun to his head. She’d find out who he was, who was working for, and why he made her palms sweat and her heart race.
But only after she had her fun.
"I’ll see you around, stranger," she winked, "keep the door unlocked for me."
Do I owe you?
Because you know the type of relationship me and Tumblr have. I love her. She keeps secrets from me.
Send me a little note if I do, and I will answer promptly! :)
I want to RP real shit in a ship. I want the fights, the tears, the late nights with pillowtalk, the dumb discussion and small intimate moments, the duties and the nights ordering food because they’re too lazy to cook anything. i want disagreements and fooling around, being silly. i want the trips to places, to an amusement park, to a boring art museum one of them wanted to go, to the mall, roadtrips, lazy mornings and early, hurried mornings. little scares, silly texting when they’re apart, whining about things to eachother, night cuddles and nights where they don’t even touch because of a disagreement. I want the cute nights in, and the nights out. I want to see the pairing grow, I want it to take time and be complex, i want it to be factible, and not a fairytale. I want the good and the bad that comes with a relationship.