casualreader1234

[casualreader1234]

Reunion

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

An: Part two of the random story idea I had. I think I'm just going to keep the same summary each time because I'm too bad at writing them. I tried to make this gender-neutral, and I don't think I wrote anything that would imply a particular sex, but let me know.

Summary: What if you weren't the hero of the story? What if you were the villain meant to burn the world down?

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning: Morally gray protagonist, violence

Word Count: 2k

[Part 1], [Part 2]

This gif is so funny to me.

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When you had first arrived in the U.S, you had been intrigued by tales of the infamous Black Widow, a former Russian assassin turned good, that was enough to catch anyone's attention. To satisfy your curiosity, you had tracked her down, wanting to see her for yourself. Watching her from afar, you understood why she was considered one of the best in her field: her movements always flowed into the next like she was performing a dance.

She easily disposed of her targets, strapping her weapons back onto herself. Seeing the completion of her job, you left the ledge of the building you had been standing of before she could see you. Slipping into the shadow, you had to admit that your interests had been piqued by the assassin.

///

You had always known that your girlfriend had been hiding secrets, but this one was far more exciting than you had thought. Never had it crossed your mind that Natasha might also be involve in the assassin industry. For such a planet, what were the chances of two assassins meeting and starting a relationship without either being the wiser. You weren't sure if that made her exceptionally good at her job, or you exceptionally bad at yours.

Asking around to some of your other contacts, you learned more about the KGB and the Red Room program that had trained Natasha, wanting a glimpse into her childhood. Disgust and rage filled you when you learned about the operation. They had hurt her, so you had made sure they all suffered for their crimes. Then, you returned back to America.

It was the reason you had stayed all these years. She was the reason. Though you've known where she's been all this time, you never revealed yourself. Maybe it was out of fear. Maybe it was out of shame.

It hadn't surprised you that Natasha decided to work for SHIELD. You've also known that she had a good heart, but it did make things more complicated.

She was one of the good guys now. If she ever crossed paths with you, she would be forced to face you as an enemy. So, for both of your sakes, you avoided doing things that would get SHIELD attention, carefully selecting jobs that would run under the radar. You had been careful, erasing most of your tracks, yet here you were, chained down to a table in a SHIELD facility.

Natalia-no-Natasha stared down at you. You unconsciously cringed under her intense gaze.

" How are you darling?" You asked, breaking the thick silence and giving her a small smile. "I must say, you look as stunning as always. Did you do something to your hair? It seems to be shorter."

Natasha didn't reply, instead shaking her head angrily. " What the hell, (Y/n). What are you doing in the U.S?"

Her harsh tone almost made you flinch. “ Here to visit my beautiful girlfriend? I've really missed you.” You tried, feeling a bead of sweat roll down your neck. Natasha may not have any powers but damn was this woman scary when she was mad. Flattery wasn't going to work on Nat though, her face stone cold as she looked down at you.

"That doesn't answer the question, milyy (darling)." She replied with a strained smile.

Tony watched the exchange with a slack jaw, eyes looking like they were going to pop out of his sockets from shock. “ I’m sorry? You know this criminal Nat?”

Your head snapped to the man, jaw clenching. “ Nat?" You sputtered at the intimate nickname. "Who gave you permission to call her Nat?” You swiveled back to look at Natasha. “What is your relationship with him?” You asked accusingly.

Natasha rolled her eyes, turning to Tony. “ Don’t call me Nat, Stark. And this idiot here is (Y/N).”

"Yeah, her [girlfriend/boyfriend] ! " You added helpfully.

The look Natasha gave you was deadly enough to silence you again. She turned her attention back to Tony, " Do you want to fill me on what's happening Stark? I return from a mission and hear from Steve that we had caught a mutant, but I wasn't even aware that we were after one." You frowned at the fact that had she referred to you as a mutant, but chose to ignore it.

Tony shrugged, acting like a bratty overgrown child," No, I don't want to." Natasha's jaw clenched and you decided to lend a helping hand.

Tendrils of black suddenly snaked around Tony, pining him hard against the wall behind him. His eyes widened, shooting to the origin of the magic, seeing you now unbounded and smiling widely at him, the handcuff hanging loosely off the table. Standing up, you rubbed at the red marks on your wrist left by the binds.

"Better answer her, Mr. Stark, I wouldn't want to get on her bad side." You threatened, eyes turning pure black for a split second.

Tony desperately looked at Natasha for help, but she stayed steadfast, unmoved and patiently waiting for him to answer. Realizing that no help was coming, he relented. "Fury got tipped off about some assassin that had been piling up bodies all across the U.S and North America. At first we dismissed them as the work of sporadic killers, not linking the deaths together until we got another tip about them being a mutant. We had Wanda examine a few of the bodies and she confirmed that magic was the cause of death. Since then, we've had our eye set on a contracted killer who went by the alias Reaper. A few weeks ago, we got a hit on their last location, and from there, we planned our trap."

Realization dawned onto you, " You put a bounty over yourself!" You exclaimed with a chuckle, thoroughly impressed by their commitment. It was a good plan, one that you hadn't even considered. Of course, if it had been any other week, the plan would've failed.

Every time you used magic, there was a backlash. The magic was deep inside you, a part of your very being, but it didn't stay that way willingly. The black flames were a dark and ancient form of magic, one that could only be wielded by a select few. Long ago, many groups had tried to master the arts, but most failed. The magic was powerful, more than anyone really knew, and only grew more so as it consumed more energy. Magicians didn't as much wield the magic, as they did subjugate it.

Candidates trained for years in preparation for the infusion, getting their body ready to handle massive amount of energy. When they were deemed ready, they would be exposed to a pure form of the magic. The flames would consume them and their screams could be heard for miles. Most people who entered the last trial end up dead, completely consumed by the magic. A few though, came out stronger. Instead of being consumed by the flames, they had somehow consumed the flames, magic now flowing through their veins.

Even then, the magic inside of wielders fought against their vessels, constantly trying to escape. The ring you wore helped you control the magic inside, absorbing some of the power and trapping the rest of the flames within you, where it couldn't escape and grow any stronger. But every time you took off the ring, you unintentionally let the magic grow, and when it finally returns back to you, the fight inside gets a little tougher.

Normally, it didn't affect you much. You had been trained since childhood to control the magic, so you could go hours with continuous magic use without any major repercussion. But the past month, you had really tested your bounds, toeing the limits of your control. This inevitably degraded your mental state, leaving your mind a little hazy. This meant you were a lot more impulsive and less observant, something that played in favor to SHIELD's trap. You knew you shouldn't have taken the hit on Tony, especially due to your exhaustion, but you had let your excitement of possibly seeing Natasha blind you. Nevertheless, the current situation didn't really worry you anyways, although you made a note to deal with a problem later.

"And why wasn't I informed of this?" Natasha pressed on.

"Don't take it personally. You're area of skills weren't required for the job, so you weren't informed. Simple as that." Tony plainly stated, clearly sensing the Russian's agitation.

You had to stifle your laughter at the irony. If Natasha had been assigned to the case earlier, you probably would've been captured much sooner.

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek, obviously deep in thought as well. " Release him, (Y/N)." She finally said and you happily obliged, but not sliding you ring back on, letting the flames surround you in a hazy aura incase you needed to react to any threats. Tony let out of breathe of relief as your magic retreated, but you could see that he was still a bit shaken up, the effects not fully wearing off.

"Hey are you alright darling?" You asked concernedly, ignoring the wobbling man when you caught Natasha looking a little pale. Walking over to where she was, you reached out a hand to lightly caress her cheek, the flames retreating as it reached her. You hesitated for a split second, unsure of how she would react, but Natasha leaned into your touch. Her eyes met yours. It was the same bright green that you dreamt about, and they looked even more dazzling up close. She smiled up at you and it was like all the years you've spent apart hadn't happened.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She whispered reassuringly and you smiled too in relief. “ What does Fury want with the (Y/N)?” She asked Tony, but her eyes didn't leave you.

“ The same thing we do to all threats. We either eliminate or imprison them .” He answered, voice indifferent.

Natasha turned to him, much to your dismay, “Why can’t we accept them into SHIELD?” she offered instead.

Tony, who had thought your weird relationship with Natasha was the strangest thing that could happen, couldn't believe what he was hearing. “You want to let an assassin into our ranks? Are you crazy?! Did you already get your hands on the vodka shelf?” He stammered.

Natasha gave him a dark look, one that sent a chill of excitement down your spine, “I was an assassin too Tony.”

Tony didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, but he didn’t need to. The door to the room swung opened again, this time a larger blonde man marching in. You recognized him from your intel: Steve Rogers-Captain America. Behind him, you saw several heavily armed agents behind him, their guns trained on you.

Natasha whipped around at the sudden intrusion, surprise flashing across her face. " Steve." She said warningly, noticing the same things you did, but Steve didn't let her finish, already throwing out his shield in attack. The metal was launched at you, cutting through the air faster than the eyes could follow.

You easily caught it, magic stopping it mid-flight.

You sighed at his pathetic attempt, " Mr. Rogers, don't you know it's rude to interrupt? You can't just come in here, guns blazing, and shield flying." You reprimanded, lazily throwing the shield back to the man. Steve tried to catch the shield, but was knocked back by the sheer force of your throw. The men immediately behind him stumbled back in shock as the 6'1 super solider crashed into them. Those who were left standing quickly recovered and upon realizing that their first line of attack had been beaten, prepared to shoot. They found themselves unable to. Fear had crept up on them during the ruckus and now they were unable to move as your magic seeped through them. With a simple wave of your hand, the black flames around you attacked and within seconds, all the agents, including Cap, dropped to the floor.

"What?" Tony gasped in horror, and for the first time, he seemed to truly understand the extent of your power.

"Relax, they're not dead. I just knocked them out for-" You pretended to check your wrist for a watch, " -a while. I don't know, I usually don't wait around for the people I knock out to wake back up."

Natasha was staring in shock at the pile of bodies by the door and you saw something indistinguishable in her eyes. A distinct chime echoed off the walls of the room, drawing your attention to your phone in the corner. You walked over to it, Tony looking like he wanted to stop you but was too terrified to. Picking it up, you read the message silently. Shouting could be heard getting louder, footsteps pounding towards you as alarms blared.

"Looks like that's my cue to leave." You announced to Natasha and Tony. " Sorry to cut our reunion short Talia."

Natasha stepped forward, blinking out of her shock. "(Y/N) wait-!" She began.

"Don't worry, I think I'll be staying a little bit longer in New York. We'll see each other soon my love." You promised, picking up one of the fallen agent's guns and shooting out the lights until you were enveloped in pitch darkness. Then, before the backup agents could arrive, you melted away into the shadows.

///

You emerged from a dark alleyway in some shifty part of the Bronx. Pulling out your phone, you replied to Matt, your associate, declining the new job he had sent over, informing him that you would be taking a vacation for a while.

Seeing Natasha had reminded you of how much you actually missed her, and you didn't want to just leave New York yet, not when you barely had the chance to catch up with your lover.

But first, you had a snitch to catch. Someone had tipped off SHIELD about you. Someone who knew you about your power at that. You couldn't let someone so dangerous live.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Powers of Reader [Will be updated as more information is learned about Reader]

-Ability to set fear in opponents

-Ability to melt into shadows (teleportation like: goes into one shadow, pops up somewhere else)

-Magic flames that kill people(?) and knocks them out(?)

-Major simp for Natasha (special skill)

[casualreader1234]

Incompleted Works MasterList

[I really don't know...]

AN: Sometimes, the things we want to write just don't come out right.

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Wrong Side Series: [Part 1], [Part 2]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

[casualreader1234]

One Slip

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

An: Random story idea. Part 1.

Summary: What if you weren't the hero of the story? What if you were the villain meant to burn the world down?

Genre: Angst, Fluff (Idk)

Warning: Morally gray protagonist, violence

Word Count: 2k

_____________________________________________________________ When you first met Natasha Romanoff, she had still been Natalia Romanova, a prolific killer working under the tyrannical orders of the KGB. You didn't know that of course. If you did, you probably would've hesitated a bit more before jumping into bed with the Widow. Just a little bit though, no one in their right mind would ever reject Natalia.

She spent most of the day as an assassin, toppling regimes and disposing leaders without so much as a blink, but at night, she was just your beautiful girlfriend with a very busy job. You never really probed Natalia about her work life, simply assuming it was something mundane, and at honestly, at the end of the day, all you needed to know about her was that she would return home to you no matter what.

The two of you seemed to silently agreed to this compromise of no questions about life outside the house. Even when she came back bloodied and bruised, you would simply tend to her wounds and tuck her into bed with a kiss on the forehead.

It may have been a strange arrangement to outsiders for a seemingly normal couple to have this unspoken rule, but looking back, you think that maybe deep down, both of you knew that the other was hiding a dark secret, and neither wanted to open that Pandora's box.

All that mattered was the love you shared.

Three years flew by and your love never wavered. No matter how long Natalia would be gone on her "business trips", or how many nights she would be off the grid, you knew she would always show up eventually. It was something you believed to be a truth - that just like a boomerang, Natalia would always return to you.

But one day she left.

You had whispered goodbye to her the morning as she prepared for another business trip, sharing a long kiss for the road. Her hands had gently held the your face while yours had held her waist, and everything had been perfect.  When you had finally broken the kiss, she had been smiling, giving you one more chaste kiss on the lips before pulling away.

She promised you a quick return. There was no reason for you to believe otherwise.

And so you waited, and waited, distracting yourself with work to fill the silence left by her.

But soon the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and eventually the months turned into years. You still waited for her, of course, believing that she would walk through the door of your home at any minute. And when your job required you to move from your home in Russia to the U.S.A, you set up automatic  payments for the house so that when Natalia did returned, as you were sure she would, she could still have a home to come back to.

Without much to tether you further, you left a note explaining your absence and left Russian behind, heading, unknowingly, back towards Natasha.

///

[Several Years Later]

Your target walked out of his penthouse, cigarette in hand, robed in nothing but swim trunks that left very little to the imagination. Your mind seesawed between a feeling of mild amusement and immediate disgust.

From the shadows, you silently waited, waiting until the man was directly in front of you to make your entrance, only stepping out of the cover of darkness when he again moved to light his cigarette.  Smiling,  you dusted your outfit before emerging, "Hello, Mr. Grayson. Lovely night, tonight, isn't it?" You asked politely, smiling at the bald man before you.

Your target, Elliot Grayson, stumbled back in surprise.

"Who the hell are you?" He demanded, recovering from your unorthodox entrance impressively quickly, but you suppose that was probably a learned trick of the trade for someone like him.

"Ahhh, how rude of me to not introduce myself." You apologized with mock sincerity, "I'm (Y/N) (L/N)...," You stuck out a hand to shake. Elliot looked at you with undisguised disgust. You retracted your hand back with a smile, "And I've been hired to kill you."

The emotions in the man's eyes quickly turned into fear, and you watched his eyes widen, but then, fear gave way to arrogance as his pale white lips pulled into an ugly sneer, "Kill me? I would like to see you try, girl." He challenged, words dripping with distaste, "Security! Security!" He roared into his penthouse.

You had to applaud the man for keeping his composure in this situation and his unwavering determination to remain unfazed by your presence, but nevertheless sighed at his futile efforts to alert his staff "Awww, Elliot, now why would you call for help? All I did was introduce myself."

A trickle of worry cracked through the man's arrogance as each second past without anyone rushing to his aid. His eyes narrowed, "What the hell did you do to my men?"

You unceremoniously checked the dirt under your fingernails, despite them being completely clean, "Whatever I had too." You replied simply.

The cogs in the man's brain rapidly turned and you could see him start to calculate his options for the situation.

Run for it?

-No, you would surely catch him before he even made it half-way across his patio. Curse his immense wealth.

Make a stand and fight?

-Maybe. You were much smaller than him, both in size and stature, and he was sure that if he could get close enough, he could overpower you by sheer strength,  but this option also had a lot of hidden variables - weapons, skills - it would be risky.

Pay you off?

-Could work. Probably the best choice, too. God knows his life was priceless in his eyes.

You unimpressively watched  as your target studied you, patiently waiting for him to come to a final census.

He finally did.

"How about I pay you-"

"No thanks."

Shock flashed through the man's face, "I didn't even give you an price yet! How about 10 million!? No, 20! No, double whatever you are being offered!"

You waved his words away, "Sorry. No can do. I have a very strict First- Come- First- Serve Policy. Once I accept a job, I will finish it. Client - provider privilege and what-not."

"No please, how about triple whatever they are paying??!"

You paused, "Hmmm, triple you say?"

Hope lit up Elliot's eyes, "Yes! Yes!"

"Still can't." You chirped, holding back laugh at the way his face fell.

Eliot Grayson opened his mouth again, no doubt to spout out some more useless pleads for his life, when his eyes landed on the large ring on your left hand.

His face paled.

You followed his gaze to your ring, twisting it slightly on your finger with your thumb to showcase it better. You smiled up wickedly at him. "I see you've noticed my ring. It's quite nice isn't it? It's made of black opal like substance, very rare, very hard to get, but there's something else that's especially special about this ring. Judging from the look on your face, though, I assume you know about its purpose?" Taking a step closer to the frozen man, you saw fear petrifying him, rooting him in place.

Grayson's eyes widened as the light hit your ring, illuminating the details of the band,  you didn't even know it was possible, but somehow he looked even more terrified. "You shouldn't be messing with such dangerous artifacts. That ring's power is too dangerous for a person to handle." He stuttered, breathing turning panic.

Sighing, you gave him an exasperate look. "Why is it that everyone thinks that this ring is some kind of doomsday device? Listen here buddy, let me tell you a secret." You leaned in conspiringly, "The ring is very powerful, but not in the way you, and everyone else in the world seem to think. You see, it only really has one power." You dramatically waved your hand in the air, "The rest? Well, that's all me." Slowly, you slid the ring off your left ring finger, clutching it into the palm of your hand.  Almost immediately, black flames of magic swirled around you.

Confusion didn't even have time to register on Grayson's face before the black flames suddenly lunged at him. There was no screaming. There was no struggle. Just a silence.

When the flames retreated back from his form, Elliot Grayson laid dead on the floor.

Sliding the ring back on, you melted again into the shadows.

///

"Another job done, Matt!" You called as you entered the warehouse.

Matt, your black market handler/agent/best friend (though he would never never agree to that title), shook his head disappointedly, "Did you really have to deliver a whole monologue to the man before you killing him?"

Feigning shock, you nodded enthusiastically, downing a bottle of water. All that talking had left you thirsty,  "Yes, Matt, I did. Theatrics are very important in the assassin business. Killing people is boring, you know, I have to make it more interesting somehow."

Matt rolled his eyes as he handed you a bag full of cash - payment for the job. You eyed the bills inside, checking them with a onceover for poison, bombs, or whatever the else may have been hidden, before slipping the bag around your shoulder.

"Well, then, everything looks good to me." You declared, dusting your hands together. Matt didn't afford you any acknowledgment, "I'm going to get going, now. Maybe take a bath in my new blood money, you know how it goes." You mused, seeing Matt roll his eyes. You were happy to have gotten some response from him, "Remember, if you need anything, Matty-boy, you have my number. Don't be shy."

There was only a disgruntled "Go away." in response.

Chuckling to yourself, you slipped out the warehouse.

///

You entered your apartment, shedding off your leather body suit. Although there wasn't a drop of blood on you, you headed to the shower first. You roughly scrubbed at your skin, like you were washing off imaginary blood. Walking out the bathroom, you quickly pulled on sweatpants and a loose hoodie. Pulling the hood up so that your face was unidentifiable, you picked up the bag of money that you had dropped by your front door, and left your apartment again.

By the time you returned back the duffel bag was empty.

Collapsing atop the made sheets of your bed, you let out a tired sigh, exhaustion washing over you at once. Suddenly, your muscles ached and your bones creaked. Using your magic always did take something from you, but the greatest price of your power was definitely your mind.

A pounding pain tore at your head, streaking burns down your temples,  and you could feel the magic thrum under every inch of your skin, begging to be released again. You couldn't help but feel like you were losing more and more of yourself every time you took the ring off and you feared the day you would be consumed by the darkness.

You fiddled with the small phonebook on the nightstand. Opening it, you wrote down a new name - Elliot Grayson. One more addition to the book of people you have killed.

The phonebook contained all your sins, all the names of the lives you took. You knew that the people you killed were horrible people - human traffickers, murders, or worse - but their blood was still on your hands. When did things become like this? Sure, you had been trained to be an assassin since you were a kid, violence being all that you had ever really known, but there had been a time where you'd thought about leaving it all behind and starting over - of pursuing a clean slate and new life. But that had been nothing but a fantasy. People can't just start over. You hands had been stained red with the blood of the lives you've stolen throughout the years, and their demons would follow you wherever you go.

You wondered how young you would react to who you had become. Past you had always dreamt about being an hero with the powers you had, little did they know, you would become the greatest villain, instead.

///

A ping on your burner phone went off. Glancing at the screen, you saw that Matt had messaged you. Though you wished it would've been a simple how are you? or want to get lunch?, you knew better than to expect that.

Pushing yourself up in bed, you solemnly read the two words onscreen: New Target. Flipping the phone open you read the name of your new target, eyes widening at bounty over their head.

Tony Stark. 600 million U.S.D

Getting dressed and packing your bags, you booked the next flight to New York.

///

A waiter offered you a flute of champagne off his tray, smiling in thanks, you took one. Sipping the bubbly, you watched Tony Stark talk with some important looking men in suits, likely investors or business men. He seemed like an eccentric man, shamelessly loudly laughing at his own jokes. Your eyes travelled over to the other so called, "Avengers." Most of them were easy to spot in the crowd, as normal people weren't typically six feet tall and built like a competitive bodybuilder. But some were harder to locate, like the ones people called Black Widow and Scarlett Witch.

Glancing down at your drink, you thrummed your fingers along the glass. You knew that you had rushed on this particular job. Afterall, t had only been three days since your first arrival in New York City and yet there you were already planning the kill without much of the same precaution you normally took in a job like this. But then again, you hadn't had much of a choice in the matter either. The client for this contract had been especially uncompromising, demanding that the job be finished in one week time or else face termination.

600 million USD. That was a hefty sum.

Looking back up, you continued watching the target.

Tony Stark: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. At least that was how he had described himself in all his interviews. He was a tricky one. He was no doubt responsible for the deaths of thousands through his manufacturing of lethal weapons for war efforts, yet, he also seemed to be trying to atone for the sins of his past mistakes.

You clicked your tongue in annoyance at the conundrum.

Killing was your job. People paid good money for you to take out those that are in their way. But the thing about Black Market Bounties is that those who are targeted usually deserved it. They were mass murders - scums of the Earth with no desire to do better or atone for their sins.

Tony - Tony was more complicated.

You never killed unless you had decided that the target was more trouble than they were worth. But perhaps this man could do more good in the world. Pushing yourself off the bar you had been leaning on, you made up your mind.

Tony Stark will live another day.

Standing up straight, you suddenly felt a rush to your head-What? You stumbled a little as your head spun. You knew you hadn't drank enough alcohol to be this dizzy, looking up, you felt eyes watching you -Crap- realization dawned upon you too late.

You had been drugged.

I screwed up.

That was your last thought before the world went dark.

///

Your head was pounding like crazy, a migraine that paralleled the worst ones from your past hangovers. Lifting a hand to rub your temple, you found, with surprise, that you couldn't.

"Wakey, wakey! Oh good, you're awake." A smug voiced sang. You raised your head off the table and saw Tony Stark towering over you. The first thing you noticed was that your ring was still on, the next thing you noticed was that while you were bounded to the table, your hands could still reach each other, allowing you access to remove your ring if needed.

These idiots may have gotten the drop on you due to your carelessness but they clearly didn't do enough research on you either.

Deciding to have a little fun before escaping, you pretended to be disoriented and overmatched. Feeding into the egos of men like Tony usually worked pretty well, "Who are you? Where am I? Please don't hurt me. "

Stark chuckled, eyes squinting in amusement, "Oh those are some good acting chops there. If I didn't know any better, I would've actually believed we've gotten the wrong person. But I didn't did I, Reaper?"

Your eyebrows raised at the usage of your alias. Okay, so they had at least a basic understanding of who you were, or at bare minimum, they were aware of your line of work and what you did.

You were curious to see what else they knew.

Tony must've seen the challenge in your eyes because he leaned back smugly, crossing his arms across his chest.

"That's right we know all. about. you, Reaper. Freelance assassin. Killer for hire. Terrorized Europe for years before mysteriously dropping off-grid. Then, out of no where, shows up again. Except this time in another continent. You know, when bodies first started dropping, we thought that it was just another upcoming assassin or something. Maybe another Widow, but your MO is very distinct. Too recognizable, really. All your victims would died without any clear source of death, no poison, no wounds, almost like they just dropped dead all of the sudden. Like magic." Tony grinned at you, obviously feeling very proud of himself. You allowed him to feel smug, letting him believe that he had the upper hand.

"They were hardly victims. Criminals would be more accurate. Dirt under my boots. Worthless scums not worth an ounce of sleepless night after I killed them. And come on, shouldn't you be thanking me? I'm helping you by ridding the world of some of its trash." You stated plainly.

Tony sneered, "Do you believe yourself to be some hero, then? Some vigilante?" He pointed a finger into your chest, digging into your skin, "You lost all credence when you accepted payments for your kills."

You sent him a mocking smile, "Is money  the only problem, then? Because I can stop. It was simply a plus to the job. Relieve the world of some of the diseases that poison it and get paid while doing it." You rocked your head side to side like the reasoning was obvious. Leaning into Tony's attempt at intimidation, you meet his intense gaze, "You've killed plenty of people as well, though, Mr. Stark, haven't you? Or did you forget about the thousands of people your weapons have killed throughout the world? You probably have more deaths under your belt than I do." Tony's hardened gaze faltered at the last part, but you didn't let it stop you, "It would seem that we've both profited off the taking of lives, Tony. Can I call you that? I'm going to call you that. You see, the only difference between us is that- " You leaned forward like you were sharing a secret, " - only one of us still lie and call ourselves a hero."

Tony blinked in surprise then, face openly showcasing his shock. Now, it was you turn to be smug, a smirk sitting comfortably on your face. In an attempt to regain control, the billionaire slammed two hands onto the table in front of you, the sound vibrating off the walls of the small room, "Don't play games Reaper, we are nothing alike. Or do you prefer the name (Y/N) (L/N)?"

You felt your heart drop at your name, all of the previous playfulness gone in a second. Brows lowering, you straightened out your smirk and pushed your shoulders back.

He had known more than he had let on.

And if he knew your real identity, he would have to die.

Tony walked over to you, rounding table until he was beside you. Lifting your left hand up, he quirked an eyebrow as he examined your ring, "Now this here is a special ring, isn't it?"

You didn't respond, only awaiting his next move.

How much did he really know?

His browns eyes travelled your face, studying you. You didn't let any information slip through your passive mask.

"Come on, you had so much to say before? What? Cat got your tongue?" He jabbed.  You only blinked without reaction.

At your silence, Tony slowly wrapped his fingers around the ring. His eyes flicked up to yours, evaluating your response.

You gave him none.

Seemingly making up his mind, the brunette started to slide the ring off. You watched him emotionlessly, holding back your smile as your felt your power itching to be released. Centimeter by centimeter, the ring crawled off your finger, and you felt the flames in your veins start to hum to life.

Come on. Come on. Just a little more.

Teetering on the edge of release, you leaned forward in anticipation, ready for your escape.

The door behind Stark flew open.

Tony whipped around in surprise as a newcomer marched in, pulling him out of the way and pushing the ring all the way back down the length of your finger.

You frowned at the interruption.

"You're an idiot Stark, you almost released their power!" The newcomer barked, Tony looking shock and confused.

The voice snapped your head up.

Red hair filled your vision and hard green eyes met yours as you grinned at your girlfriend, "Hello Natalia." You purred, "It's been a while."