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Story Notes:

Disclaimer: These prompts are not mine, though anyone can use them.

Also, neither these characters nor the worlds they come from are mine, but we all knew that already.

Author's Chapter Notes:

Imagine: Natasha finding out that you've been with Hydra the entire time she's been falling in love with you.

“This entire time… You were with Hydra?!” Her stoic face never changes, but you’ve come to know her well enough to catch that ever so subtle crack in her voice. Tears begin to pool in your eyes as you see the woman you’d been unconsciously falling in love with begin to look at you with disgust.

“I didn’t… I!” You lose your words, but you know trying to push your blame elsewhere will do you no favors. With your head bowed, you quietly but firmly respond, “Forgive me, Tasha.”

You hear a rustle of steps, then the cock of a gun. You close your eyes, knowing full well you deserve it. You had done so much evil while working for Hydra, and you always relished the experience. It wasn’t until you had to go undercover and became part of their family, the Avengers, that you saw the error in your ways. And it was as you got close to your target, the Black Widow that you truly began to feel love for the first time.

Yes, you deserve it. You broke through her shell and worked yourself into her heart, and then you wrecked it from the inside by trying to manipulate her and her family. It was once you saw the damage that the pain fully hit you and made you have to tell someone who you really were, what you had done.

She could never forgive you, nor did you expect her too.

A shot zooms past over your head and heats the air above your bowed back. Suddenly a body thumps down beside you, and you see his face. Your partner in crime crumples down, blood oozing from the fresh wound on his chest. He stretches out one hand over your shoulder and breathes out his final words: “Traitor…”

A rough tug on your wrist and under your arm pulls you up and soon you're running.

“I hope you know, I hate you now. But only I can kill you after what you did.”

A hungry, possessive glint shines in her eyes, and the emotions warring inside wage between fear of what she has planned, and joy that she still cares, if at least enough to save your life.

“You were already assigned to be my judge and jury,” you reply as the smallest smirk makes its way on your lips.

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