ANTI-HERO [N. Romanoff × Female Reader]

Chapter Eight

"We don't know what she's capable of," You threw back Natasha's words at her, synchronizing your voice to match hers a little. "You sold me out!" You were calmly seated across from her as her team listened outside of that tiny metal box, which they call an interrogation room.

Natasha furrowed her eyebrows, "what are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about," you growled. "You knew what was in those files and you let your team read them, it's a sick move, Natalia."

"It's not my fault,  I had nothing to do with it," she defends. "It's their job to do a proper background check on anyone who had been in contact with us, with this organization."

Along her words, you found yourself laughing at something that wasn't even funny, or maybe you were just laughing at nothing. "Oh, Natalia, you just said it, it's your job to do a background check, you are a part of them, of this organization, so, yes, you did sell me out."

Without another word, Natasha sat there, speechless as she continued to stare at the metal table in front of her, too occupied by her thoughts of what or how the tables were turned and it shot her like a bullet in the head. Within a few moves, you had her immediately in a headlock after you'd picked the lock of your handcuffs. Pressing a gun at her temple that you pulled from her holster, she did no effort to fight you.

"Let me go or I'll kill her," you spoke, glaring at the tinted glass in front of you.

"Don't do this," Natasha muttered, only for you to hear.

Ignoring her, you managed to make her walk out of the door, calmly without provoking you, but you didn't miss the glare that she gave you.

"Put the gun down," Clint warned.

"We had a good talk, yeah?" You stalled, walking backward to where you saw an exit sign from when he took you down here.

"We did, not the choosing coffin part though," he grimaced at the word coffin while stealing glances with the redhead to reassure himself that his best friend was okay.

"Why?" You whined, stopping for a second just to look at him. "It was my favorite part."

As the both of you talked, the people behind Clint started moving, quietly and cautiously to not warn you. But you knew.

The compound was big, but it wasn't big enough for you to get lost in the directions; still, though, you're giving yourself a pat on the back for having good memory as you were immediately outside of the building minutes later, with Natasha still in your arms.

"God, you are so important to them," you were muttering to yourself but of course Natasha could hear it. "They can't even risk touching me, I mean, the building is full of superheroes and none of them thought of taking you away from me because they know that I could kill you," making eye contact with her, "I guess giving them my background is a plus."

"It's pathetic," she whispered, taking your attention to her with furrowed eyebrows. She never did accept the reality of having a family behind her back to care for her in any situation. It's still hard for her that she has so many people caring for her compared to what she used to, it is enough for her but she wants something she once had, let alone a certain someone caring for her from the past.

"Aww, are those your insecurities?" You fake cooed, kneeling her down to the ground, as you stood in front of her, pointing the gun on her forehead. "Well, then, it is, pathetic," leaning down closer to her, "Remember this, Natalia, everyone is selfish, there is no such thing as someone caring, they only think of themselves. Selfish."

For a few moments, Natasha closed her eyes, waiting for it to happen, for the bullet to enter her skull, but it never came, instead, she felt a harsh wind hit her face, and when she opened her eyes again, expecting to see you still staring — her breath hitched behind her throat, you were no longer stood before her, you were no where to be found; she didn't mean to, but something sank her stomach, a feeling she once had when she didn't expect that you'd leave her, and she hates it.

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