fic: pretty when you scream, clint/natasha, loki/clint, nc-17
title: Pretty When You Scream
pairing: Past Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff, brief Loki/Clint Barton
fandom: The Avengers '12
rating: NC-17
warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE 2012 AVENGERS MOVIE. Dark!fic, major character death, gore, slight sexualisation of afore-mentioned gore and death, Loki being a really really evil little shit, AU from a certain scene in the movie
word count: ~650
summary: Loki had delivered in all the ways she was supposed to have stopped him from doing.
Natasha had never thought it would come to this.
She was supposed to have won. She stood in front of the God of Mischief, the God of Lies, and she manipulated him. She beat him.
No. She had been out-manoeuvred.
She arched her back, chest heaving, she panted and screamed like she had done with Clint on top of her before, her fingers scratching at the floor - but it was different now. The last time they fucked, like animals, on an unmade bed, it didn't hurt this much, and Natasha's head wasn't filled with the sound of Loki's laughter. She was the thing that was unmade this time, and Clint, whose blue eyes were not his as they gazed down at her, dark with malice. His mind wasn't his either. No matter how sure she had been that she had won, Loki had both of them, all of them, now.
Loki hadn't spoken once yet; no words, only cruel laughter. Natasha was almost sobbing, feeling, literally feeling, her guts split under the blade of Clint's knife.
Loki had delivered in all the ways she was supposed to have stopped him from doing.
She twisted and writhed, but Clint's legs clamped tighter either side of her and he pressed his arm harder on her face, and each movement only jolted the knife further into her. He was cutting her up, slicing her deliberately, working on her stomach because it would take time and by Christ it was painful.
It was slow and it was intimate and she felt the bitter sting of tears in her eyes no matter how hard she squeezed them shut and dug her teeth into Clint's forearm. She didn't want to cry, she didn't want to be so humiliated in her final moments but this was Clint and this was everything she'd tried to keep from happening.
She hated Loki more and more with each breath and yet Clint, despite his blood-spattered face twisting more and more in pleasure with each curl of his wrist, he just became more and more absolved. He was a pawn, no more, and if Loki meant each and every one of his cruel cold words then he wasn't going to last much longer either.
It became harder to fight and black crept in at the edge of her vision. Natasha kept screaming the whole way through, loud enough to miss the sound of Loki's sceptre hitting the floor.
Finish it, he said, without a word, and Clint plunged his knife into Natasha's heart and smiled down at her bloody, torn body as she finally died.
Loki stepped forward as Clint sat back, his back straight, his head high, proud of his handiwork. Loki fisted his hand in the human's hair and pulled his head upwards for a rough, painful kiss, all pushing tongues and biting teeth, and when he pulled away Clint was breathless. Loki smiled sadly and gripped his hair tighter, turning his head to the side to look at him properly.
He changed the angle slightly, and with a short, sharp bark of laughter, slammed his head into the floor beside Natasha's.
Clint was barely unconscious before he was back again, staring at Natasha's lifeless body, not quite cold yet, still warm with the blood that was pumping from her stomach. Clint could see her entrails. He cried out in horror, close to tears, close to screaming, and Loki laughed and laughed and laughed before burying the agent's face into the floor again and again and again, fulfilling his promise and splitting his skull.
He left them there, dead, in pieces, surrounded by bits of their own skin and flesh and bones and blood, crumpled over each other, as they should be; two down and only four to go. He had delivered, as he said he would. He was indeed the God of Lies, but he didn't break his promises.
pairing: Past Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff, brief Loki/Clint Barton
fandom: The Avengers '12
rating: NC-17
warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE 2012 AVENGERS MOVIE. Dark!fic, major character death, gore, slight sexualisation of afore-mentioned gore and death, Loki being a really really evil little shit, AU from a certain scene in the movie
word count: ~650
summary: Loki had delivered in all the ways she was supposed to have stopped him from doing.
Natasha had never thought it would come to this.
She was supposed to have won. She stood in front of the God of Mischief, the God of Lies, and she manipulated him. She beat him.
No. She had been out-manoeuvred.
She arched her back, chest heaving, she panted and screamed like she had done with Clint on top of her before, her fingers scratching at the floor - but it was different now. The last time they fucked, like animals, on an unmade bed, it didn't hurt this much, and Natasha's head wasn't filled with the sound of Loki's laughter. She was the thing that was unmade this time, and Clint, whose blue eyes were not his as they gazed down at her, dark with malice. His mind wasn't his either. No matter how sure she had been that she had won, Loki had both of them, all of them, now.
Loki hadn't spoken once yet; no words, only cruel laughter. Natasha was almost sobbing, feeling, literally feeling, her guts split under the blade of Clint's knife.
Loki had delivered in all the ways she was supposed to have stopped him from doing.
She twisted and writhed, but Clint's legs clamped tighter either side of her and he pressed his arm harder on her face, and each movement only jolted the knife further into her. He was cutting her up, slicing her deliberately, working on her stomach because it would take time and by Christ it was painful.
It was slow and it was intimate and she felt the bitter sting of tears in her eyes no matter how hard she squeezed them shut and dug her teeth into Clint's forearm. She didn't want to cry, she didn't want to be so humiliated in her final moments but this was Clint and this was everything she'd tried to keep from happening.
She hated Loki more and more with each breath and yet Clint, despite his blood-spattered face twisting more and more in pleasure with each curl of his wrist, he just became more and more absolved. He was a pawn, no more, and if Loki meant each and every one of his cruel cold words then he wasn't going to last much longer either.
It became harder to fight and black crept in at the edge of her vision. Natasha kept screaming the whole way through, loud enough to miss the sound of Loki's sceptre hitting the floor.
Finish it, he said, without a word, and Clint plunged his knife into Natasha's heart and smiled down at her bloody, torn body as she finally died.
Loki stepped forward as Clint sat back, his back straight, his head high, proud of his handiwork. Loki fisted his hand in the human's hair and pulled his head upwards for a rough, painful kiss, all pushing tongues and biting teeth, and when he pulled away Clint was breathless. Loki smiled sadly and gripped his hair tighter, turning his head to the side to look at him properly.
He changed the angle slightly, and with a short, sharp bark of laughter, slammed his head into the floor beside Natasha's.
Clint was barely unconscious before he was back again, staring at Natasha's lifeless body, not quite cold yet, still warm with the blood that was pumping from her stomach. Clint could see her entrails. He cried out in horror, close to tears, close to screaming, and Loki laughed and laughed and laughed before burying the agent's face into the floor again and again and again, fulfilling his promise and splitting his skull.
He left them there, dead, in pieces, surrounded by bits of their own skin and flesh and bones and blood, crumpled over each other, as they should be; two down and only four to go. He had delivered, as he said he would. He was indeed the God of Lies, but he didn't break his promises.