Indie role playing blog for Yelena Belova aka the Black Widow. This blog is selective but extremely OC friendly. I play both Canon and AUs. The mun is 25+ and NSFW will be tagged with Warning || NSFW, you can add that to your blacklist. If you have triggers you need me to tag let me know, as long as they aren't like 'mentions of flowers'. Please read my rules and about before coming at me, bro.
My comic icons at theme are all by me. I take commissions. My icons of CLAIRE HOLT are from Here or made by me.
“Like hell you’ve kept your word. I’m no closer to finding out who killed Natalia than I was the last time we spoke. You know something, Belova. Tell me what it is before things get ugly.”
“If I knew I’d be putting a bullet in them, not wasting my time talking to you. Your vague threats aren’t going to change that. You want someone to blame, try Nata. She would not do anything without knowing the risk.”
His head tilted to the side as he looked at her face, unable to help the large roll of his eyes before sighing and getting to his feet. “You’re starting to piss me off again, Lenochka. Look at me when I talk to you.”
When she turned her head to look at him, there was nothing more than spite on her face, a deep-seated bitterness because she wanted to go, but she knew he’d never let her. Not anymore.
His eyes looked first to the hand approaching his face before alighting his gaze to all the bruising he finally took note of as the remaining brain fog lifted. “Badgering me ain’t going to make the answer come any faster,” James snapped, leaning back from her touch as his eyes moved to look elsewhere, not that he really saw anything. He was trying to remember anything past the first few bites of food he’d eaten after putting Mila down; he didn’t even remember asking Yelena a question about Natasha at all. Looking again to the blonde’s arm, he could briefly, but vividly recall fracturing her ulna, but that was all.
“I can’t remember,” he muttered, the uncharacteristic distress just making itself notable in the further tensing of his body language. “How could you have been so weak, Lenochka? All your bravado and you couldn’t stop me taking her?”
She wanted to slap him across the face but she also didn’t want to deal with his shit anymore. She didn’t want to deal with him being angry and coming after her and hurting her. There was so much hurt. It wasn’t so bad before, he’d have episodes and maybe scare her, or even grab her by the throat but that she could deal with. She dealt with that in their line of work regardless but breaking bones and the level of shit she’d taken from him was just too much. She got up and stepped away from him.
“Then I’m gone, James. Without her, I have no reason to be here. You did this. You were worried about someone neither of us wanted involved with out personal lives. I know you’re fucked up, and so am I, but you used to at least try not to hurt me. You used to try, and you used to feel something about it. But you keep getting worse. I’m done being your punching bag,” she said as she painfully pulled on her coat and pulled on her boots. “I should have run away the moment I knew I was pregnant, but you were happy. For once you were happy and I didn’t want to take that from you. So now we both get to live with this”
She didn’t say anything to him still as she sat there hearing his words. She even nodded at his insult like she expected as much. Not that she could silence her expression. He’d hurt her feelings enough, and she knew that engaging him would just lead to his temper erupting again.
“ – If you’re looking for Natasha, not only is she not here, but I don’t appreciate you coming in here for a peep show.” He held one of the hands currently covering his groin out to Yelena, “Hand me my pants?”
“Why are you naked?” she asked as she peered around the door frame, not really wanting to see him naked, and more accurately wanting to find something to embarrass him.
She picked up the nearest pair of sweats as if they were diseased and tossed them at his head. “Why are older men always so weird.”
“No, she wouldn’t bail on me like that. At the least she’d be updating twitter or instagram. I already told this to the policemen I talked to earlier. What department did you say you worked for again?”
It was extremely telling of how shocking the words were to him that his more-oft than not stoic features practically crumpled into a frown of confusion, the slightest and most deeply hidden feel of panic attempting to make itself known on top of it.
“What the hell are you talking about? She’s at home. I put her down for a nap. You saw me do it, so get me the hell out of these restraints.” Even as he said the words, however, James was silently putting more work into trying to stubborn BLOCK in his mind that always followed an episode – and that alone should have told him the likelihood of causing their child harm, but he was in denial of such a fact. He simply refused to believe he had hurt Mila.
“James, please. You have to try and remember,” she pleaded, she said, reaching out to touch his face with her let hand (at the closeness it obvious that her right arm was deeply bruised and likely broken), even if she knew being so close to him was dangerous.
“You put her down for a nap, and we went to the kitchen, you were eating and I was doing the dishes,” it was a disgustingly domestic scene that quickly turned. “You asked me why I’d been calling Natasha so much lately. You didn’t like the answer I gave you and we fought. You said that you wouldn’t let me take her away and you knocked me out. I need you to tell me what happened next, James. It’s been 4 hours, please, it’s getting dark, she’s going to be so scared,” she said, not believing he would hurt her, he hadn’t so far, it had been almost two years and he had been doing so much better.
