fiction: uncategorized - slowly ; intimately (2 short fics)
title: slowly
characters: Natasha "Black Widow" Romanoff, Clint "Hawkeye" Barton
rating: PG-13
warnings: torture
word count: 275
author's note: AU: Loki maintains possession of Barton, fulfills 'bargain' with Romanoff
Listened to "I Never Told You What I Did For a Living" by My Chemical Romance when writing.
- - -
She doesn't cry out, nor plead for mercy, a moment, anything. She won't give Loki the satisfaction of her weakness.
Another slice down her sternum and she gasps, maybe whimpers, but tightens her mouth and looks into the familiar, unrecognizable face of her savior, her best friend, her murderer. The blood trickles down her bare stomach and he spreads it with the pad of his thumb, mixing it with the blood of previous wounds. A wicked artist.
"You look better like this, Natasha," he says quietly, greedy blue eyes taking in his latest work. She feels her heart shudder as he says her name, though she never lets it show, doesn't even blink. "Red was always your color."
The point of his knife bites into the skin below her left breast, sending a strange sensation through her rib cage. If she makes an audible noise, he makes no action of recognition. The blade presses deeper, angled upwards from the starting point.
"You spoke of a hardened heart," Clint says, a smile on his face, "Shall we see if it really is, Nat?" His eyes sweep over her breast, collarbone, neck until he meets her gaze completely. Icy. She feels a shiver grip her spine like a fist.
Further in the knife pushes, slicing through muscle with ease. Her heart is pounding like it hasn't in years and she opens her mouth, words bubbling on her tongue until she realizes it's bile, acid clawing up her torn throat. "I-"
Clint blinks, eyes dark and his just as a searing pain tears through her chest, forcing a gasp, choked, unfulfilled.
The world darkens and all is silent.
title: intimately
characters: Clint Barton, Loki, mentions of Romanoff
rating: PG-13
warnings: mentions of torture
word count: 220
author's note: AU: Loki maintains possession of Barton, fulfills 'bargain' with Romanoff
- - -
Consciousness dawns on him in shades of blue, of red, of green, a ringing in his ears accompanying. The throbbing that runs through his body begs for reprieve, for him to retreat to the cage someone else built inside of his mind.
Cruel, satisfied laughter echoes around him and he moves through what feels like a thick gel, searching for the source. Armored and armed, the intruder is smiling at him, it turns into more of a sneer, and Clint turns to where the alien's eyes have moved.
His heart stops.
The world stops.
She's beautiful in sleep, as she is awake, her pale face serene and light. Red is smeared across her cheek, down her chest, across her stomach and hips. A knife protrudes from her ribs, clunky and monstrous in contrast.
He falls to his knees beside her, takes the thin wrist closest, and searches, hopes, prays.
Wait. Wait. Wait.
Nothing.
Leaning down to her broken lips, he feels pain crush his lungs as he slides the knife from her soft corpse.
He whirls around, up on his feet and lunging for the alien before he realizes what he's doing. metal smacks against his arms then back, sending him to the ground.
"Fool," the other drawls. Sceptor meets skull with a wet thud.
Darkness envelopes the room.
characters: Natasha "Black Widow" Romanoff, Clint "Hawkeye" Barton
rating: PG-13
warnings: torture
word count: 275
author's note: AU: Loki maintains possession of Barton, fulfills 'bargain' with Romanoff
Listened to "I Never Told You What I Did For a Living" by My Chemical Romance when writing.
- - -
She doesn't cry out, nor plead for mercy, a moment, anything. She won't give Loki the satisfaction of her weakness.
Another slice down her sternum and she gasps, maybe whimpers, but tightens her mouth and looks into the familiar, unrecognizable face of her savior, her best friend, her murderer. The blood trickles down her bare stomach and he spreads it with the pad of his thumb, mixing it with the blood of previous wounds. A wicked artist.
"You look better like this, Natasha," he says quietly, greedy blue eyes taking in his latest work. She feels her heart shudder as he says her name, though she never lets it show, doesn't even blink. "Red was always your color."
The point of his knife bites into the skin below her left breast, sending a strange sensation through her rib cage. If she makes an audible noise, he makes no action of recognition. The blade presses deeper, angled upwards from the starting point.
"You spoke of a hardened heart," Clint says, a smile on his face, "Shall we see if it really is, Nat?" His eyes sweep over her breast, collarbone, neck until he meets her gaze completely. Icy. She feels a shiver grip her spine like a fist.
Further in the knife pushes, slicing through muscle with ease. Her heart is pounding like it hasn't in years and she opens her mouth, words bubbling on her tongue until she realizes it's bile, acid clawing up her torn throat. "I-"
Clint blinks, eyes dark and his just as a searing pain tears through her chest, forcing a gasp, choked, unfulfilled.
The world darkens and all is silent.
title: intimately
characters: Clint Barton, Loki, mentions of Romanoff
rating: PG-13
warnings: mentions of torture
word count: 220
author's note: AU: Loki maintains possession of Barton, fulfills 'bargain' with Romanoff
- - -
Consciousness dawns on him in shades of blue, of red, of green, a ringing in his ears accompanying. The throbbing that runs through his body begs for reprieve, for him to retreat to the cage someone else built inside of his mind.
Cruel, satisfied laughter echoes around him and he moves through what feels like a thick gel, searching for the source. Armored and armed, the intruder is smiling at him, it turns into more of a sneer, and Clint turns to where the alien's eyes have moved.
His heart stops.
The world stops.
She's beautiful in sleep, as she is awake, her pale face serene and light. Red is smeared across her cheek, down her chest, across her stomach and hips. A knife protrudes from her ribs, clunky and monstrous in contrast.
He falls to his knees beside her, takes the thin wrist closest, and searches, hopes, prays.
Wait. Wait. Wait.
Nothing.
Leaning down to her broken lips, he feels pain crush his lungs as he slides the knife from her soft corpse.
He whirls around, up on his feet and lunging for the alien before he realizes what he's doing. metal smacks against his arms then back, sending him to the ground.
"Fool," the other drawls. Sceptor meets skull with a wet thud.
Darkness envelopes the room.