#amoralspy

DURING  THOSE  YEARS  ON  THE  RUN.  DURING  THE  FIVE  YEARS,  natasha  had  talked.  Perhaps,  more  than  she  had  done  during  their  years  together  as  avengers.  She  spoke  of  the  red  room,  and  her  family,  and  what  she  had  done  before  meeting  him  half  way  to  rescue  the  others  from  the  Raft.  It  seem  only  right  do  this  now.  It  wasn’t  right  away,  there  was  no  time  to  plan  this  before  Thanos.  They  had  to  fight  him  and  they  won  but  the  losses  were  big  on  his  heart.  Tony,  Natasha,  two  of  his  closest  friends  now  gone.  He  is  not  sporting  his  shield  anymore,  for  that  is  for  Sam  to  wear  in  the  future.  But  he  had  to  do  this.

Yelena  Belova  was  hard  to  track,  as  all  spies  would,  but  Natasha  had  been  clear  on  the  few  places  where  she  would  be.  And  at  last  she  was  found.  He  is  hesitant,  for  a  moment,  knowing  this  isn’t  an  occasion  of  good  will.  He  is  carrying  the  worst  of  news.    “She  fought,  sacrificed  herself  so  everyone  would  survive.  So  we  would  win.”  He  imagines  Clint  is  feeling  more  guilt  than  ever  now.  He  had  been  the  one  ready  to  jump  but  Natasha  had  always  been  quicker.  Damn  her.  “I’m  sorry.  Uh.  .  .it’s  a  complicated  story.”  The  soldier  speaks.  It  was  complicated,  but  the  story  ends  the  same.  

There  is  brief  talk  of  the  stones,  and  how  the  soul  stone  needed  a  soul  for  a  soul.  And  Natasha  gave  hers  in  order  to  let  everyone  else  survive.  “She  is  buried  in  Ohio.  She  mentioned  that’s  where  you  two  grew  up.”

     @amoralspy​ asked . . .

                                            “ that’s quite a scratch you got there.”

   || rdr2 prompts. || accepting.

     his luck has turned from bad to worse.

     and really, that’s no big surprise to him. at this point, he functions, seemingly, at the lowest possible luck ( although he does have a couple of good moments here and there) . the fall hadn’t killed him, but he’s not yet sure whether he should be wishing it had - his side burns like a motherfucker ( bullet grazes tend to do that, annoyingly enough ), there’s a dull ache in his shoulder ( from landing on it, which shoulders tend to protest ), and he still can’t get that jingle out of his head. hot pockets!

                             safe to say, he’s had better days.

     squinting up at the widow, it takes him three seconds to process what she said, and two more to fully realize how absolutely fucked he is. holding his own against a widow on a good day was hard enough. hopefully his dazzling charm is enough to keep him alive.

     “  yeah, well . . .

               bullets, y’know?  ”

“I  WOULD  NEVER.  .  .WHO  TOLD  YOU  THAT?“  he  is  taken  distance,  he  is  catching  his  breath.  body  is  tired,  soul  is  even  more.  the  topic  of  natasha  makes  his  heart  sink  in,  the  pain  of  loosing  her  not  quite  settling  with  him.  “Yelena.  .  .you  are  her,  right?  Nat  spoke  about  you.“  Of  course  she  did.  Best  of  friends,  flesh  and  bone,  they  had  been  paired  up  in  missions  since  Budapest.  But  here  she  is,  the  little  sister  Natasha  had  thought  she  forgot,  accusing  him  of  having  been  responsible  for  Natasha’s  death  (  nevermind  his  irrational  heart  tells  him  it  is,  he  should’ve  jumped  instead  of  her  ).  Hands  raised  up.  

“She  has  been  my  best  friend  and  family  for  over  ten  years.  Who  told  you  that?“  Eyes  frown,  wrinkles  upon  tired  expression,  his  own  collar  a  match  to  natasha’s  own  arrow  necklace  she  had  sported  before  dying.  “She  was  my  family.  I  would’ve  died  for  her.  On  a  heartbeat.“  And  if  she  hadn’t  been  stubborn,  if  he  hadn’t  been  slow,  he  would’ve.  And  perhaps  the  world  would  be  better  for  it.  “She  wouldn’t  let  me.“  But  whoever  told  yelena  belova  he  was  a  target  and  responsible  for  it,  maybe  wants  him  out  of  the  picture.

@amoralspy​ said: “ i’m not who you think i am. ”

she has managed to stay one step ahead for the last two years, ever since the incident in istanbul -- even faina does not fully comprehend how she came out of that blackout with her handler’s body at her feet and his blood on her hands but she knew it meant she could never go back and she could never stop running. 

"Oh come on. You really think a pose is that bad? Come on, it's kinda cool sometimes. I mean, not always, but when the timing's right? It's cool."

@amoralspy​ asked:❛  don’t  act  like  you  know  me .  ❜           𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑳𝒀 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑫𝑬 .

“I  NEVER  PRETENDED  TO.“  brief  exchange  before  silence  falls  between  them.  her  leg  is  still  injured,  but  exercises  and  a  tolerance  for  pain  does  wonders  as  she  extends  her  foot  over,  the  grace  of  someone  who  has  known  ballet  since  she  was  but  a  child.  the  red  room  is  all  she  know  and  somehow,  psychologically,  putting  the  place  down  does  not  feel  as  good  as  it  should.