Possession

Turnaround

She pressed the weapon against you, a move that you'd noticed, she brought out often.
"Didn't expect me to come for you after I'd sobered up and realised what you'd done ?"
You shook your head, walking away from her as you closed the entrance. She observed as you moved, holding the door to the lounge open with your hand.
"Care to join me ?"
Anger swathed her demeanour as she moved past you, pulling a knife from her waistband and holding it to your lower abdomen.
"I have no time for this, Y/N."
"Okay, Romanoff. Kill me then. I'm not trying to waste your time."
She held her stance, her eyes fixed on yours.
"How long have you been here ?"
She pressed the blade into the skin of your stomach, a burning sensation surrounding the area as you winced - unable to conceal the pain.
"Since your mother arrived."
"So why not kill me then ? When I was distracted ?"
She smirked a little, dragging the weapon across your skin, watching as the layers poured crimson, leaking upon the fabric of your trousers.
"Mrs. Stark was pretty shaken in my first failed attempt to kill her. I can't imagine how she'd be watching her only daughter die. If anything, Y/N, I was doing you a favour."
Natasha's talk of Pepper had diminished your jovial manner. You pushed the blade from her hand, bringing your foot to her stomach and firing her backward. She steadied herself, her fingertips sliding against the floor as she collected her footing.
"Oh ? You wanna play now, little girl ?"
You slammed your fist against her jaw as she struck the bone of your chin with a closed fist.
"You're the one who wanted some fun, Romanoff."

She planed across the marble, swiping you from your feet. You landed atop her, your palm secured round her throat as you pressed with all your might - watching as she struggled beneath you. She took a lock of hair in her hands, pulling you from her as she crashed you against the leg of the table. You groaned in agony as she swung her legs round your waist, pinning you with the tarnished blade to the underside of your chin. You twitched beneath her, attempting to slide out unsuccessfully as she held her position above you. She was panting, her eyes red and inflamed as she stared you down.
"Fucking do it, Romanoff !"
She lifted her knife, dragging the sharpest corner from the bag under your left eye, stopping at the middle of your cheek. You felt the blood run thick down your jaw, dribbling across your ear. Natasha sported a crazed look upon her face as she pooled the blood from your wound onto her fingertips, wiping them against her tongue. You faced her, pushing her from you furiously.
"Why won't you just kill me !"
She stood, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.
"I don't want to interfere with the wedding. Wouldn't want to disrupt the perfect little couple."
You stood before her, mopping blood and tears from the side of your face.
"Get out of my house. Stay out of my life."
She slowly stalked beyond you, stopping just behind your back as she whispered close to your ear.
"Stay out my affairs, then I'll stay out yours."

You tensed as the clatter of the door signified Natasha's exit. You sobbed angrily as you paced the room, huffing at your recollection of events. As you passed the bar, you swiped a line of glasses from the surface to the floor, letting out a short yell of betrayal before being seated and avidly inspecting the details of the newest action card. A government revolved mission. You were going to investigate the exact same affairs that Natasha had commanded you stay out of. If you'd known any better, you'd turn this down and hand it to Maria - knowing yourself that Natasha had no issue coming after you, or worse Wanda, your mother, Tony. However, the rage had overcome you, consumed you like a virus. You studied the information with an extended enthusiasm, even pulling your laptop to investigate the ins and outs yourself. You wanted every advantage over her, every benefit you could reap - you sought it, you lusted over it. The hatred drove you, it clawed at you as you fell slave to the revulsion. You needed to win - it was a must. 

With your phone in hand, you stood and made your way to bed - ignorant of the piles of broken glass. You stuffed dressing against the cut on your stomach, enough to clot the bleeding before forming a message, asking to push the mission forward to tomorrow. You hit send as you lay your head against your pillow, the request on it's way to Tony. Almost instantaneous, a reply found it's way to you. Long winded and wordy, with tones of warning and worry - yet ultimately, a yes.

You propped your hands up behind your head, closing your eyes, hoping to dream of every way you could eliminate Natasha's being. Nothing more could bring you joy other than this. Your eyes fluttered shut, your thoughts wild with the blood and pain of your enemy.