I cant decide on a song for your nat bb i’m sorry <3
{This is extremely depressing. :( What happened to the beauty that was the angst and love and torture of our mutual muses? Is it no more?}
I’m not your answers {Natasha}
She felt his lips on hers, and it was like coming home and being lost at sea all at once.
Even though she knew he could kill her and feel nothing, even though she had released someone SHIELD considered a “hostile force,” and even though there was an archer who had become a part of her - she deepened their kiss.
He was where she started, where she began. He was the only anchor point in her life that she had knew had been real from the beginning. He wasn’t planted memories or forced affection. He was real and solid and her heart still pounded in her chest for him.
Her arms wrapped around him on their own accord, pulling him closer, trying to quiet the voice that was screaming at her to stop. But that voice didn’t matter. The consequences of her actions didn’t matter. He was the last time she remembered having control in her life - until they went too far, but she wouldn’t think of then. She’d think of the before. When everything was nothing and still everything at the same time.
Natasha’s emotions ran deep, but they had been making their way to the surface - only the winter could freeze them over once more.
Why? That was the question. Why was she doing this? Why was she just letting him out?
Why was she here against orders?
Could she really still love him? Despite what he had done? Despite how long he’d been away?
He didn’t resist her pull,shifting his good hand to cradle her neck as he licked along her lips.
This had to be a dream, there was no way this could be real. Natalia was long gone, but here she was hair too short.
He pulled away ever so slightly, resting his forehead against hers.
“come with me. Now. We’ll run, run together, like we planned.” He whispered, lips meeting hers for fractions of seconds.
If she just said yes, then he needed to wake up, because she had a life here, she had her archer, she had her precious SHIELD.
But could he convince her? Or Would it be too dangerous?
His lips left hers and it felt like waking from a dream and a nightmare at the same time. The intake of breath that followed was sudden and shallow, as if her lungs were on fire and there wasn’t enough air in the world to fill them.
Her hand snaked it’s way up his back and into his hair, keeping him pressed to her - keeping her steady.
She shook her head, as his lips brushed hers again for the briefest of moments. “We can’t run, James. We never could.”
And it was the truth. Their idea of freedom in each other was always just an illusion.
“You could stay. Stay here. Stay with me.”
She knew he request would fall of deaf ears. She knew he’d never stay. She wasn’t his anymore, and he wasn’t hers. And she still wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t just waiting for the opportune moment to kill her.
{WOOOT! Clint/Bobbi feels on my dash! Favorite thing, EVER!}
Cool Lime Refresher Break.
Natasha: But, when it mattered most, my love for you won out! I freed myself from their insidious control! You— you must believe me!
Clint: I want to, Natasha! Oh, how I want to…!And Natasha wasn’t “rescued” by the Avengers so much as she broke free of her KGB brainwashing in time to save Clint from certain chokehold. That’s the real story of Natasha’s redemption: she wasn’t saved, SHIELDed, accepted or trusted. But she did follow her own heart.
From Avengers #30, by Stan Lee and Don Heck.
(via missmaximoff)
I’ll Speak. You’re Easy:.
Natasha had never met any man or woman that she couldn’t charm the money and pants off of, until now. Until this moment, with this stranger, sitting in her bar.She shrugged, “you look like a man who’d prefer to skip over the pleasantries of pretending to be things that we are not. Forgive me for assuming. If you’d prefer, I can go back to pretending to be shy and innocent and you can go back to pretending you’re not illegally drinking your alcohol.”“Well, they said you were a firecracker,” he mused, his eyes trailing over her form as if he’d seen it all before. “Though, you look a bit young t’be giving an old man like me the time of day.” The fed just sipped more of the alcohol, the slight clink of ice cubes against themselves providing his theme music.
“Shy and innocent, indeed. Why, you’re more like t’bite my head off.” He looked at her, again, and then met her gaze, knowledge of who she was, how truly dangerous of a creature she could be heavy in his eyes.
And then he laughed, a full-throated chortle of merriment, as if the entire situation were somehow comical.
“They?” Natasha asked, raising her eyebrow.
There shouldn’t be a “they” or even a “them,” but clearly there was and clearly this stranger knew about her than she did him. Which in Natasha’s line of work meant betrayal, danger, and certain death. The “they” in his sentence would be dealt with, and she would be the one doing the dealing. After all, “the Black Widow” wasn’t called that for just any reason.
“And what do they call you, stranger?”
She watched him as he sipped his drink, calm, collected, and completely sure of himself.
Natasha shrugged, “in my experience, old men are more likely to know how to treat a woman right.”
Her words were a challenge, a suggestion, a trap, and maybe even a want.
Source: n-r0man0va
Alex Maleev doing the cover artwork for Daredevil End of Days.
Don’t Judge a Book by its Cover
Tony smiled a tired, crooked thing. “They were stalling. Something about calling ‘The Russian’.” He looked at her carefully, wondering if she knew this Russian - which, yes, flawed logic, just because she was Russian did not mean she knew all the other Russians, but in this case, he thought it more than likely - before shrugging. I took an opportunity to get JARVIS into their computers.” After that, well, it had been building-assisted escape, really. All the doors he needed unlocked had magically unlocked, the cameras were looped, and all the alarms stayed silent.Of course, his first chance to do all of that happened about five and half months in. After he was out, he needed to hide from the Triad for another two weeks before finally getting one of his jets to take him home. No suit. The only one he’d had in working condition had been pried off of him. With crowbars. Crowbars and drills and handsaws and wielded by men who didn’t care if they went through the suit and into him.
“Couldn’t get a hold of ‘em, but I guess they didn’t want to start…” and wasn’t that a thought, that they hadn’t even started, that what happened had just been the prologue of something so much worse, a show by men whose art was causing agony and keeping life at the same time, “without them. Whoever they were.” In the end, his escape had gotten him a bullet in the arm, and one grazing his side, but after months of torture, that was nothing, and he’d been able to keep running far out of range and out of sight. His only lucky stroke had been their refusal to touch the arc reactor.
Natasha knew who ‘the Russian’ was, who they still were, because their face stared back at her every time she looked in the mirror. The name had started as a joke. A mockery of the fact that she wasn’t Chinese, but still believed she had a right to be in their ranks. A right to run and murder and torture beside the highest ranking members of the Triad. The joke had turned into a form of respect, of fear, when they realized and utilized Natasha’s skill set. Her blood lust matched theirs. She lived without fear or loyalty or regret. She was their most prized possession, until she abandoned them, leaving only a bullet with ‘the Russian’ carved into it’s side. A promise and a threat.
She could feign innocence. After all, Russia was a large country and it was full of betrayers and torturers and murderers. He’d never have to know the one they were waiting on was her. He’d never have to know that he had been taken as bait. Although, Natasha was certain that that hadn’t been the only reason. She also believed they saw him as threat to their business. He was one bird, she was the other, and the Triad had wanted to kill them with the same stone.
Natasha knew she didn’t have to confess to her crimes. She knew she didn’t have to trust Stark, and she also knew she didn’t owe him anything. She owed only one debt, and she still had a lifetime left to pay up. But as she stared at Stark - the man in the iron suit - the playboy turned superhero - who was just as broken and bent as she was - she wanted forgiveness.
“Me.”
it’s 4 am. i should really go to bed. oh well. last minute sketch
Page 1 of 216
Natasha Romanoff.