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Natalia Romanova [userpic]

51 - Holiday Shopping

December 18th, 2006 (04:29 am)

Natasha sat in her favorite café and watched the holiday shoppers braving the cold and the snow to get last minute holiday shopping done. The café was warm, not too crowded and served the best cup of coffee on the Upper East Side.

The Starbucks across the street was packed with bodies, but this café was mostly empty at this time of the evening. People who truly loved and enjoyed coffee came here and everyone else went to Starbucks. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Starbucks, there was just better out there if one looked.

She watched the passing shoppers loaded down with their bags and packages with some interest and some revulsion. American capitalism sickened her most of the time, but she wouldn’t deny that she liked shopping. Liked may not be strong enough. She loved shopping. It was a vice and a stress reliever. In her line of work, she needed all the stress relievers she could find.

Unfortunately her holiday shopping didn’t comprise of much. She had one person to buy for and she knew him so well that it wasn’t hard to shop for him. She had other friends that were dear to her, but the holidays were something she never quite got into. Usually she worked while the others celebrated, so she never bought for anyone else.

She smiled when she thought of Matt and then took a sip of coffee. Books were always a part of every gift she gave him. She had always made it a point to get him some books in Braille. Usually they were classics, but there were times when she tossed in a few current bestsellers. If he actually read them or not, he never said and she never asked.

She always bought him a silk shirt or two. Matt was a very tactile man and she always gave him clothing that felt soft to the touch. Silk was the norm and she knew he liked it as much as she did. She fondly recalled nights between silk sheets with nothing but sweat between them.

Along with the books and clothes, she usually bought him a bottle of his favorite cologne. It was specially made for her for him. Matt’s senses were heightened and even normal scents sometimes overpowered him, so she had cologne designed to be very light and very subtle just so he could wear something.

They weren’t extravagant gifts, Matt was never one for extravagance, but she wanted to let him know she was always thinking about him.

She smiled and took a sip of coffee. The gifts were sitting in his apartment. She left them there earlier. It was a simple matter of breaking in and leaving them on a table. The second he entered his place he’d know she had been there, but she purposely stopped by and broke in when he wasn’t there. She didn’t need the complications that went along with seeing him.

She smiled again, finished off her coffee, tossed her empty cup in the trash and left the café. The Black Widow had work to do.

Natalia Romanova [userpic]

Topic #46 Marriage

November 27th, 2006 (01:48 am)

Natasha stared out at the city below her. Her arms were folded across her chest as she waited on a rooftop. He should be here soon. She left him a message and she knew he’d show. It was just a matter of time.

“Tash?” a voice asked from behind her. “You left a message saying you wanted to see me?”

She didn’t turn around. “Yes.”

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked as he placed an arm around her shoulders.

“I wanted to ask you a legal question.”

“Oh?”

She could hear the blatant surprise in his voice. “If a person’s spouse is considered dead, but there’s no official death certificate, and they are found to be alive, would the couple still be legally married?”

The question had plagued her since she had first discovered that Alexi was still alive. She had vowed to love him for the rest of her life and a part of her still loved him, even after he had been believed to be dead and despite all that happened. Marriage was sacred and something to be taken very seriously in her book. She had to know if she were still married. Then she could decide what she would do.

“Tasha, why are you asking me this?”

“Remember a year or so ago when I visited for a few days…”

“You mean when you were hiding out by my side?”

She looked at him. “Yes.”

“So what about it?”

“The reason for the assassin on my tail was Alexi.”

“Alexi? Your dead husband Alexi?”

She nodded. “Apparently he’s still alive. He arranged the Bulgarian government’s play to get me and hired the assassin to kill me. He arranged it all.”

“Why?”

“I asked him the same question when I saw him. He said, and I quote, ‘I don’t like you’.”

He looked over at her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? You didn’t do anything. My former husband’s dislike of me has nothing to do with you. But you didn’t answer my question. Would Alexi and I still be legally married? There was never any certificate of death. Just the KGB’s word.”

When he doesn’t answer her right away she looked over at him. “Matt?”

“You’re still legally married to Alexi,” he answered quietly.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Matthew.” She gave him a small smile and then dove over the edge.

Natalia Romanova [userpic]

#42 Best Friend

October 12th, 2006 (04:19 am)

“You shot me.”

“Yes I did.”

Matt looked over at Natasha. She looked back at him.

“You shot me.”

She sighed. “I did it because I had to, not because I wanted to.” Okay, so there was some small part of her that did want to shoot him, but it was only because he could be the most frustrating man on the planet. And she wasn’t even dating him anymore.

“I know. But you still shot me.”

“Didn’t think I could do it?” she asked.

“Well, yes.”

“You don’t know me as well as you think you do, Matthew.”

“Tash. You’re my best friend. I know you better than you know yourself sometimes.”

“Then why is it a surprise to know that I could shoot you?”

“I just thought…”

“I still love you that much that I couldn’t do it?”

He scratched his head. “Yeah.”

“I do love you, Matthew, and you’re my best friend on the entire planet and others for that matter, but this was business, nothing personal.”

She wasn’t lying when she said she loved him and he was her best friend. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him, she’d die for him if she had to, and he was the only person she could talk to, but work was work. She’d do whatever she had to do to get the job done.

“So if it’s work related, you’d shoot me to get the job done?”

“I just did, didn’t I?”

He always knew she was cold as the Russian winter, but was at times like this when he realized how cold she could be.

She looked over at him. “I’m sorry though.” And she was. A bit. She didn’t like to see him get hurt and she hated hurting him.

He smiled a bit. “I know you are.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled. “Let’s get you home to the little lady where you belong.”

“Tash?”

“What?”

“Don’t ever change.”

“I told you to shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Natalia Romanova [userpic]

#40 Protection

September 29th, 2006 (02:19 am)

Her mouth came down on his, hard, deliberate, and delirium inducing. They had barely made it inside of Matt’s apartment before her lips were locked with his. Her blood was running hot from the fight as it always was and she knew of one way to take care of it that didn’t involve more violence.

She breathed in, sucking the breath from him and threatening to take all the air from him and killing him like her namesake. She knew it would come to this after the fight. They weren’t a couple anymore, just friends, close friends but not in any way involved with each other, but she couldn’t help herself. Well defined muscles moving gracefully under red spandex didn’t go unnoticed and it had done everything to turn her on. Turn her on enough to not care if he was currently involved with someone else and not her.

Natasha pushed the thoughts of Matt being with someone else from her mind. She didn’t want to think right now. She just wanted to feel and touch him and be touched in return.

“Tasha…” he growled.

“Shhhh,” she urged him. Natasha didn't want Matt to say anything at all. Talking could lead to trouble. Talking could lead to stopping. A roar was building inside her. Taming it the only way she knew how, by feeding the hunger for Matt, Natasha slid her tongue deeper into his mouth.

Her tongue lashed his tongue and explored the warm recesses. Her hands went to his head and pushed the mask off of him. Her fingers ran through unruly red hair and nails raked across his scalp. She felt his fingers fumbling with the zipper on her uniform while her hands pulled at his uniform.

“Tasha…”

“Shut up Matthew,” she growled against his mouth and she slid his uniform down to his waist. Her hands lightly moved over his chest and a moan escaped her. It had been too long.

He finally managed to get the zipper of her uniform down and hands pushed her uniform off her shoulders. Her moan was loud as his palms bushed over exposed flesh, sending shivers racing through her body. Black leather gave easily under his expert hands and in no time it was in a pile at her feet.

Not wanting to be the only one mostly naked, Natasha tugged at red spandex. His uniform met hers on the floor. She pressed her body against his and deepened the kiss. Black lace and cotton boxer briefs were the only things keeping her from getting what she wants. She was so close, yet so far.

Her hands grabbed the elastic waistband and pulled down. The underwear moved easily and the pair of boxer briefs joined his uniform at his feet. She pressed up against him, her mind swimming at the feel of his erection against her body.

“Matt,” she growled.

He promptly removed her of black lace bra and panties and they both kicked off uniforms from around their feet. Natasha took a step forward, forcing him to take a step backward. The back of his legs bumped against the bed and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down with him.

Her hips pushed against his as her mouth claimed his again, the need and want too much to contain or control. She wanted him now and she would have him.

“Tasha…”

“No talking,” she grumbled against his mouth as she positioned herself on top of him, ready to have him slip inside of her.

“Protection,” he protested against her demanding mouth.

Natasha froze. “What about it?” she asked as she pulled back and gave him a look.

“Would this be a bad time to tell you I don’t have any?”

Natalia Romanova [userpic]

#39 Jealousy

September 22nd, 2006 (02:54 am)

There were times when Natasha Romanova, the Black Widow, hated Matt Murdock more than any other person on Earth. Matt knew she’d do anything for him and there were times, like now, when he took advantage of that fact. The worst part, she always let him do it too.

How could she say no to him? She still loved him. She’d never deny that fact, but there were times when she wished she didn’t love him as much as she did. Like now. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for him and at times she hated herself for it.

She watched women move in and out of his life. Not one of them stayed around for very long and she was always there after it was over to help him to pick up the pieces. Karen, Heather, some others, even the ninja, and now Milla, it was always the same. Something made them leave him, whether it was death or something else. She was the only one who was always there for him.

Yet she was the one who had to watch from the sidelines and not be with him.

The latest woman in Matt’s life was Milla, the estranged wife. Correction. The former wife. She’d had the marriage annulled. Yet Matt, in typical Matt fashion still worried about her. He worried enough to ask Tasha to find her and get her out of country, away from the mess over Matt’s identity as Daredevil and the warrant for his arrest.

How did she get herself into these situations?

She knew, but she hated to admit it, even to herself. She was human and like every human on the planet, she had feelings. She loved Matt Murdock, still, even after all these years. She knew she’d probably always love him and would always do what he asked of her, including taking care of the woman in his life.

A person Natasha was completely jealous of.

Natasha risked life and limb for a woman who had what she wanted for herself. Matt. She’d always consider walking away from him one of the biggest mistakes of her life, but at the time it seemed like the thing she had to do. Looking back now, she realized it had been a mistake. A mistake she couldn’t fix.

Matt and she had moved on with their lives, mostly for the better, and they both had agreed that it probably wouldn’t work between them again. But it didn’t stop her from wanting to be with him again. She’d probably always want to be with him, but probably never would be.

Instead she got to watch him with other women and try to buy the feelings of jealousy.

Natasha sighed and went to find Milla. She wouldn’t let Matt down.

Natalia Romanova [userpic]

#38 Arch Nemesis

September 15th, 2006 (02:53 am)

The night was quiet and the only sounds that filtered into the apartment were the sounds of an occasional passing car on the street below and a person yelling every once and awhile. For New York, specifically Hell’s Kitchen, it was quiet.

Natasha Romanoff shifted between the silk sheets and looked over at the form sleeping next to her.

Soft snores came from Matt and it made her smile a bit. It was relatively early for him to be asleep, but he had been exhausted and it had taken a lot to get him to rest. Matt looked like hell and working as a lawyer during the day and being Daredevil at night was taking its toll on him. She was concerned.

With a single finger and a very light touch, she gently plays with a lock of his hair. It’s soft to the touch and Natasha smiled. He had been using the conditioner she had bought him.

He smiled in his sleep, his dreams being pleasant ones for a change. Nightmares usually plague his dreams and sleep. A smile playing on his lips is so rare and Natasha is glad to have witnessed it.

A fingertip lightly caressed a cheek. Matt. She wished she could take his troubles away and give him the peace he so desperately deserved. His life was as messed up as hers was and probably always would be. His quest for justice would never let him rest or find that peace. His goal of bringing people like Fisk down drove him almost to the point of self destruction.

Fisk.

Natasha wondered what it would like for her to have someone like Fisk in her life. She was a spy and an Avenger, but she didn’t have any personal enemies. Not any that would classify as an arch-nemesis like Fisk is to Matt. The Red Room would always be a thorn in her side, but they’d never classify as an arch nemesis.

Her worst enemy was herself. She was her own arch-nemesis.

She did things that she knew she shouldn’t do and fell for men that were bad for her. She could never stop and she wasn’t sure she wanted to stop.

Matt was a fine example of that. They had a relationship ages ago, but she always came back to him. She still loved him and would do anything for him. She couldn’t forget him. She didn’t want to forget him.

All the angst, pain, hurt and misery she experienced because of him, she brought upon herself. She didn’t need Hydra, the Red Room, or anyone else bringing her down. She gladly did it to herself.

She sighed heavily and leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek. He stirred a bit and she kissed him again. He settled down and she smiled.

“I love you, Matthew,” she whispered in his ear before she settled down next to him. With her naked body pressed against him, she let herself drift off to sleep.

Natalia Romanova [userpic]

#37 Define your weakness

September 7th, 2006 (11:57 pm)
current song: Garbage - Supervixen

The thing about being a spy was that one was trained to observe without being seen or noticed. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, was an expert spy and the man she was watching didn’t have the faintest clue he was the object of her attention.

Matthew Murdock, also Daredevil, had heightened hearing, but even at this distance he couldn’t pick up the distinctive beat of her heart and how it skipped a beat or two when she looked at him. It was better she kept her distance in general, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t check up on him now and again.

If the Black Widow could be said to have one weakness, Matt Murdock would be it.

They had been lovers once, friends most of the time, even enemies at one point or two over the years. No matter how many times she tried to stay away, she was always drawn back to him. How many times had she vowed to stay away from him, only to return to his side for one reason or another?

It was a curse, really. She tried over and over to stay away from him and just when she thinks she can do it, something always happened. The latest thing had been Matt’s identity being revealed and the Murdock Papers. Before that it had been the swipe Alexi had taken at her. And before that…she could keep going on and on. This is how it always was.

She sighs. She should leave, even go as far as leave New York, before she did something stupid like go and see him. Or even worse, throw herself at him like the last time when she surprised him by waiting naked in his bed. Putting distance between her and him seems like a good idea.

She turns away from watching him. It is for the best that she leaves. She tells herself that a few times, trying to get herself to believe it.

The Black Widow slips back into the comfort and safety of the shadows, leaving the red guardian devil to Hell’s Kitchen and to the past.

Natalia Romanova [userpic]

Topic #35 Past Life

August 24th, 2006 (12:10 am)

The laceration on her thigh wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t exactly good. It was going to need to be stitched up or she’d be leaving a tail of blood behind her. Natasha had been careless as evident by the wound, but she wasn’t about to be even more careless.

She slowly slid to the floor and looked at her thigh. With both hands she pulled black leather away from the wound. Blood seeped out, mixing with sweat and contrasting against pale skin. The actual wound was about four inches long and deeper than she would’ve liked. At least it had been a clean cut; the edges were smooth and not jagged. It was easy to be thankful for the small things.

Without looking, she reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out a small plastic packet. She tore it opened and removed the needle and catgut. Be prepared. The Boy Scouts had a great motto in her book.

She took a moment and peeked out from behind the crates she had taken refuge behind. The coast was clear as Americans liked to say. She sat back down and steady hands threaded the needle. Once the catgut was through, she tied a knot into both ends and set to work.

The needle pinched as it went into pale skin at the top of the wound. Doing this was going to hurt, but it’d serve as a reminder for her carelessness. The second time pinched as much as the first time and Natasha winced. It didn’t get any better as she continued.

The comm. Piece in her ear beeped twice. Now what? S.H.I.E.L.D. better not be telling her to abort. Not after she had already shed blood for this mission.

“Widow,” she said barely above a whisper. The sub-vocal comm unit at her throat captured the slightest noise and allowed her to communicate effectively and quietly.

“How about a hello or a hi like a normal person just once?”

Natasha almost groaned. It was worse than S.H.I.E.L.D. aborting the mission. “Is there something you wanted Matthew?” she asked, her hands not slowing in their task. Although Matt would be a good distraction from the pain this was causing.

“Can’t I call just to say hello and see how you’re doing?”

“You? No. Did you want something?”

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

When isn’t it a bad time, she thought as she poked the needle into flesh again. “No,” she lied.

“I know that tone of voice. You’re working.”

“Sort of,” she answered frowning as the blood started flowing a little heavier from the unstitched part of the wound.

“What does that mean? You never sort of work. What’s going on Tasha? What are you doing?”

“Sewing if you must know,” she replied and jabbed the needle into flesh a little harder than necessary. Ow, that hurt.

“Sewing? Are you making a quilt or something?”

She sighed. Between the pain and Matthew, she could use a bottle or two of good vodka. “I’m stitching up a wound,” she hissed as the needle reached the half way point.

“Natasha?”

She could hear the concern in his voice, but he should know by now that she was capable of taking care of herself. “It’s just a scratch, Matthew. I’m stitching it up because I don’t want to leave a trail for someone to follow. Four inches long in the fleshy part of my thigh. Nothing to get worked up over.”

“Do you ever consider taking some time off?”

Not this again. It seemed like every time they talked he hounded her about taking time off. “Do you?” she shot back knowing full well what his answer would be.

“Touché.” There was a long pause. “I worry about you.”

“I know,” she replied, not wanting to get into this. Not now. Not in the middle of a mission and not when she was in physical pain. She didn’t need emotional pain to be added to it. She was trying to close one wound; he was trying to open another.

“You push yourself too hard and too much.”

“Matthew, I adore you, but don’t start harping on me about work. I don’t need it right now. Is there some reason why you talked Fury into patching you through on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s comms?”

“I was worried about you. I haven’t heard from you in awhile.”

“And Fury bought that crap?” she grumbled and continued her task. “Remind me to kick his ass when I see him.”

”Now that sounds like the Black Widow I know.”

Natasha snorted and finished with the stitches. She tied off the end of the catgut and ripped off the extra. She tucked the needle back in her belt and took another look at the wound. The stitches were small, neat and precise. “Probably was a seamstress in a former life,” she mumbled.

“What? You were mumbling.”

“I was just appreciating my handiwork. I was just musing that I was probably a seamstress in a past life. A doctor couldn’t do better stitches.”

“Oh.”

“I have to go. If you feel like you must talk, you can take me to dinner when I get back.”

“When will that be?”

“When I get back. Do I look like Nostradamus?”

His laughter floated through the comm. She wasn’t trying to be funny. “Take care of yourself Natasha. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Take care of yourself, Matthew.” She disconnected the comm and stood up. Matt would come later, right now she had work to do. She pulled a pistol from its holster and slipped out from behind the crates.


Black Widow
Marvel
939 words

Natalia Romanova [userpic]

Topic #34 Desperate Measures

August 17th, 2006 (12:19 am)

The mission. Completing it was the most important thing, always was. Natasha was a professional and always got the job done. In most cases she was successful, but there were a few failures here and there. The Black Widow was one of the best and being one of the best meant that you didn’t let personal issues get in the way.

Goodness, did he have to show up? Of all the people who could’ve shown up, did it have to be Matthew? He was her Achilles’ heel and she knew it, so did he.

She aims the cannon, military issued ordinance, at the car next to him. Her aim is true and it goes up in flames. That gets his attention.

She fires again despite not wanting to hurt him, but the mission was more important. She had to do what needed to be done.

He tries to talk to her out of her course of action. She considers his words for a moment before answering. She wants to tell him he was right, but she can’t fail. She answers him, telling him that he’s wrong and this is the only way.

She fires again, but misses. She doesn’t really want to hit him. She just wants him to get out of here, but it’s Matt and she knows he won’t.

He closes in and forces her to fight hand to hand. In a fair fight they’re about even, but the Widow doesn’t play fair when the stakes are high. He points out the reporters that are watching the two of them and she takes advantage of his hesitation to fight her. She hits him hard with the butt of the rifle.

He manages to hit the rifle and the canister on her back. It goes off and hurts like hell, but she doesn’t go down.

She looks at him and her heart sinks. She can’t let him stop her and there is only one way to put an end to this.

I am sorry, Matthew, she says silently in her head. You leave me no choice. Hopefully you will be able to forgive me for this.

She pulls a .22 out and aims at him. Desperate times call for desperate measures. She doesn’t want to do this, but she has no choice. She pulls the trigger and the pain inside of her feels like she’s the one getting shot, not him.

Please forgive me, Matthew.

Natalia Romanova [userpic]

#33 - All Good Things

August 10th, 2006 (12:11 am)
current song: Wait - Sarah McLachlan

Natasha sighed as she leaned back against the side of the car. The sun beat down relentlessly and the air shimmered in the heat. It had to be around a hundred and ten, easily, and it wasn’t even noon yet. Arizona in the summer was like that, but it didn’t bother her much.

She kicked at the ground and a small cloud of dust rose lazily in the hot air. Natasha looked over at the man lying on the ground. The bastard still wasn’t done dying and she figured he wasn’t going to talk, but she had to wait until he died or talked. It wasn’t wise to leave an enemy alive behind you.

Natasha glanced at her watch. Forty five minutes had passed since his blood started to spill out of his body and the bastard was too stubborn to die. She had to admire his professionalism though. Most people would’ve talked by now, but not him. Whomever he was working for meant business to send someone like him after her.

She could be rock climbing right now if it hadn’t been for this bastard. She was retired dammit. The spy business had been left behind months ago, but apparently it didn’t want to stay in the past. All good things had to come to an end, including her retirement.

She looked down at the soon-to-be-corpse for a moment and then back out at the horizon. The sky was a dull blue and the landscape shimmered from the heat. It had been a perfect day for rock climbing too.

Natasha sighed and looked at the man again. The blood coming from the knife wound turned dark when it hit the dirt. The dry ground quickly absorbed the life giving liquid. So much for retirement, she thought. Like it or not she was being dragged back into the game.

She had just been starting to enjoy retirement too, but that was the story of her life. Every good thing in it eventually ended, badly in most cases.

Idly she wondered what Matt was doing. It had been months, almost a year, since she last had contact with him. It was always prudent to keep an eye on him; the man had a talent for getting into trouble, but Tasha had been trying to keep him in the past like her career.

There was another good thing that had ended, perhaps the best thing in her life to date. The year they had spent together in San Francisco had been one of the happiest times in her life and back then she had been naïve enough to think that it wouldn’t end. But like everything else, it did.

She didn’t want it to end, but she felt like she didn’t have a choice. She had been slowly losing herself in him and in his shadow. The Widow was a strong woman and couldn’t afford to be seen as playing second string to someone else. Her life at that point had centered on Matt and she had forgotten who she was.

So she left him.

And she has regretted it to this day.

Leaving him wasn’t her only option, but back then it was the only one she could see. Now she would give almost anything to go back and do things differently. She’d give herself the chance to have some happiness in her life.

She closed her eyes for a moment.

Walking away from Matt was the hardest thing she’s ever done and one of the stupidest. It was one of the few good things in her life she brought to an end.

But it didn’t really end, did it? She still saw Matt and they’ve remained close over the years. There wasn’t a time when she asked him for help that he didn’t help, and vice versa. They have always been there for each other, through good and bad, they just weren’t an item. They were friends and probably always would be. Lovers to friends. It was some small measure of comfort.

Natasha sighed again and looked at the dying man. Bad things were coming. She could feel it like a storm building on the horizon.

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