 | toxicarchive asked ; ♡ |
; send a ♡ to hear how my character would tell your character that they loved them without actually using the word ❛ love❜
Blood transforms into FIRE in her veins. Keeps her warm, burning with hatred. Keeps her alive. She hates him. Hates him for how he destroyed her family. Hates him for how the experiments were never-ending. Hates so much it turns to LOVE { not ! }. It’s driven obsession they both feel. She’s a galactic gladiator. Defected, she turns ‘gainst Cerberus. Strives to plunge the knife into the three-headed hounds neck. Cut off the heads like the hydra & stand VICTORIOUS. She’s dreamed of this, you see. For years.
’ Natasha. ‘
He says it so effortlessly, so smoothly. It’s scotch on the rocks. It’s a lullaby for you to close your eyes to. Her fingers are the knife plunging into his back. Betrayal is a mark they both know intimately like lovers under covers. He made her, erected her higher than any profound monument. Still, she defected. She wonders what that says about the Illusive Man – that he can’t keep his pawns together in one place. She wonders how ’ NATALIA ‘ would sound on the tip of his wagging, lying tongue.
As a ghost, she wanders Cerberus’ darkened halls. They may be immaculate & white in appearance, but she knows the blood that stains the labs. Easily removed by peroxide. Skilled assassin that she was manages to slip into his chambers. His office where all the plans enfold. With her fingers brushing his back, she thinks about the different ways he could suffer. Would he fight back? Something tells her he would – laughing merrily with a mouth full of b l o o d.
’ Don’t be a coward, ’ he demands this much of her. He seeks to chain her, to wrap a leash ‘round her neck. Closes her cold, blue eyes. Ne’er as bright as his, ne’er as corrupt. She feels vengeance & ruin where he senses only the latter. He stiffens beneath her touch, as though she’s a fury of Irish Myth, a living witch that will cast her spells. Sidelong, he eyes her & she catches a glimpse of the frigid cerulean sea. He’s not a man, she reminds herself when she pulls out the gun. Holds it high { justly, proudly }. This is her spear. Athena, Goddess of Wisdom & War, would smile in her favor.
’ I’ve got news for you. I belong to NO ONE. ‘
Then, why does she do as she’s told? Standing at attention in front of him, their eyes meet. A hand flicks out in a flash, his hand against the muzzle. No grins now. She’s peeled them all away to catch a glimpse of his ugly interior. He closes her hand over hers with a father’s love { another father gone MAD}. Kisses the metal of the gun. It could’ve been her lips. She wonders how that would feel. To kiss a snake. She’s kissed many seedy men to get the job done, but ne’er one as sick as he.
Wordlessly, she blows him away. Tugs on the sweet trigger that promises not the salvation of humanity, but her own. Disconnect, self-destruct. There’s a hole where his throat once was. He’s choking on himself. So damn full of himself. He swallows his blood like wine & she smiles. But it hurts.
Black Widow she is, Black Widow she will forever be.