Title: Prayer Author/Artist: Koren M. (cybermathwitch) Disclaimer: Not mine. Technically Marvel's. Pairing: Clint/Natasha Rating: M Warnings: mentions of blood, (consensual) knife-play, violent imagery, sexual imagery, non-specific religious thought/imagery/subversion (how do I even tag for that?) Word Count: 1,119 Summary: There is nothing childish about her religion.
Author's Notes: I started this last year, then let it fall by the wayside in the face of too many other stories.
It's probably not *quite* what you meant by this prompt? But hopefully it still works!
Definitions from Dictionary.com (http://www.dictionary.com)
Except:
He lays in the bed stretched out beneath her, and she straddles his thighs. Their gear is nearby, close enough, and she's holding one of their knives in her hand. She contemplates the blade, wicked sharp and gleaming, and how she used its twin on a young man outside of Berlin who took her home from a club. He'd defected three years before. She was his belated going-away present.
Clint's skin gives slightly with the press of the knife as she sets it against his throat, just like she did then. "Why do you trust me?" she asks him, distantly because she is of two minds, in two places.
FIC: Prayer, rated: M (mildly NSFW), see below for warnings
Author/Artist: Koren M. (
Disclaimer: Not mine. Technically Marvel's.
Pairing: Clint/Natasha
Rating: M
Warnings: mentions of blood, (consensual) knife-play, violent imagery, sexual imagery, non-specific religious thought/imagery/subversion (how do I even tag for that?)
Word Count: 1,119
Summary: There is nothing childish about her religion.
Author's Notes: I started this last year, then let it fall by the wayside in the face of too many other stories.
It's probably not *quite* what you meant by this prompt? But hopefully it still works!
Many thanks to
Definitions from Dictionary.com (http://www.dictionary.com)
Except:
He lays in the bed stretched out beneath her, and she straddles his thighs. Their gear is nearby, close enough, and she's holding one of their knives in her hand. She contemplates the blade, wicked sharp and gleaming, and how she used its twin on a young man outside of Berlin who took her home from a club. He'd defected three years before. She was his belated going-away present.
Clint's skin gives slightly with the press of the knife as she sets it against his throat, just like she did then. "Why do you trust me?" she asks him, distantly because she is of two minds, in two places.
Prayer (http://awfully-clever.livejournal.com/52453.html)