i want to deserve it.

ind .  james  buchanan  barnes  from  marvel's  comics .  headcanon  based . 

[dismind]

❝   oh, it’s just a little rain.  ❞   the optimist,    the reveler,     the girl that knows no such thing as hardship   —–   rather,    the woman that knows it well,    & in these gentle moments,    shuns it.    SHOW ME A MAN THAT HOLDS HER HEART LIKE THIS : A MAN THAT KNOWS HER AS WELL AS HE.     there is no other,    there never will be.     her hand folds into his as he takes it,    & she turns in the downpour to meet his honey - warm gaze,    a vision only for her,    a vision she devours as only a lover can.    he is committed to her heart,    every line & curve of body & visage,    every scar,    every intonation,    every place where she touches him,    every strand of hair she brushes from his eyes,     every nook of his soul.     SHE SMILES.     ❝    besides,     i’ll have you to take care of me.    ❞    she laughs,    like song,    & throws her arms around him.    she hasn’t known sickness in a lifetime,    but still she knows that he wouldn’t leave her side even if she did.    SHE WOULDN’T LEAVE HIS.

            ❝    come on   –   it’s beautiful out.    you,    me,    the rain   …   & thousands of other people that don’t matter.     isn’t it nice to disappear for a bit without even trying ?    ❞

calloused  hands  rest  on  the  small  of  her  back ,  holding  her ,  keeping  her  close .  she  comes  to  him ,  willingly ,  battle  scars  and  all .  they  must  be  mirrored  in  each  other ,  the  same  story  told  differently .  he  wonders  often  how  he  got  so  lucky .  years  of  brutality  that  brought  him  to  her ,  the  craving  for  violence  dulls  in  her  presence .  taken  back  to  his  younger  days ,  his  mother ,  his  sister ,  soft  things  in  his  life ,  before  they  were  ravaged  by  the  war .  a  kind  reminder  that  there  is  duality  in  man ,  he  can  be  the  hanged  man  and  the  lover .  her  lover .  hers .

the  cacophony  of  rain  and  the  sound  of  the  city  mix  in  a  chaotic  way ,  yet  they  stand  in  the  middle  of  it ,  undisturbed .  the  eye  of  the  storm  is  wherever  they  are  together .  he  watches  her  face  closely ,  painting  a  picture  in  his  mind  for  the  time  he  must  let  go .  it  always  comes ,  eventually .  one  or  both  must  leave  their  quiet  place  and  return  to  actuality .  fondness  only  grows ,  a  warmth  in  his  chest ,  and  it’s  not  her  pressed  against  him .    ❛   i  could  get  you  that  soup  from  carino’s  you  like ,   ❜   he  kisses  her .   ❛   and  tuck  you  into  bed ,  ❜   another .   ❛   i  might  get  sick  too ,  where  would  be  then  ?   ❜

[dismind]

    the  emphemerality  of  life  leaves  him  breathless , a  desperate  attempt  to  hold  each  moment  close , determined  not  to  let  go  no  matter  the  damage ,  or  manipulation . there  are  memories  in  his  past ,  ones  that  seem  deluded  by  time ,  so  easily  forgotten  that  they  imprint  more  like  dreams .  this  would  not  be  a dream .  let  this  be  a  substitute  to  the  dim  light  of  reality .  her .  dancing  through  rain ,  carrying  herself  with  that  prevailing  grace  only  she  could  master .  watching  her  was  a  privilege ,  one  he  intended  to  keep .  she  made  things  so  bright ,  a  future  worth  living  for ,  a  life  worth  telling  about .  pity  those  who  will  never  witness  such  a  woman .  pity  those  who  try  to  take  such  a  woman  away .       his  smile  becomes  more  and  more  familiar ,  like  it  was  something  he  could  do  forever .  of  course ,  he  would  smile  for  her ,  unaware  of  the  appeal ,  he  knew  it  provoked  her  own .  his  lips  tethered  to  hers ,  even  when  apart .  he  reaches  for  her  hand ,  wrapping  it  in  one  of  his  own ,  less  of  a  grab  and  more  of  a  gentle  coaxing . it  enveloped  hers ,  but  not  as  a  predator ,  as  a  lover .       looking  at  her ,  he  forgets  the  rain .  his  discomfort  assuaged  by  her  presence .  she  always  had  that  effect .  she  was  the  eye  of  his  storm ,  the  silent  center  to  a  greater  disaster ,  but  it  fuels  her ,  they  coexist  together ,  do  they  not ?   one  cannot  survive  without  the  other .  she  would  not  be  without  the  chaos ,  and  he  would  not  be  without  her . with  no  storm ,  they  would  have  never  met ,  never  fallen  in  love ,  never  had  this  moment ,  this  memory ,  they  would  have  never  been . 

     you  have  the  war  to  thank  always ,  it  raised  you ,  made  you ; it  brought  you  to  her .  

                                      ❛      you’re  going  to  catch  a  cold .      ❜

   @viduamor​

[dvoyd]

I can’t seem to decide which I am more afraid of: taking my life, or living it.

25 years and still no answer | m.a.w (via dvoyd)

[dismind]

❛ is that a threat or are you flirting with me. ❜

         ❝    ARE   YOU   KIDDING   ME   ?    go  back  to  your  nest,  barton.   ❞    if  he  had  lived  another  life,  maybe  his  response  would  have  been  less  hostile.  but  his  past  remains  the  same,  that  of  destruction,  in  all  means  of  of  the  word.  his  hands  are  not  gentle  ones,  his  heart  even  less.  

[dismind]

' the sun will rise, and we will try again. '

           HIS  LOVE  ;  HIS  HEART  ,   their  welcomed  home  with  the  light  dimming  in  the  sky,  before  they  are  immersed  in  a  fowl  night.  he’s  not  afraid  of  something  he’s  lived  so  long  in,  knowing  all  things,  knowing  success  and  knowing  failure.  except  they  live  now,  on  a  plane  that  does  not  forgive  so  easily.  if  rapture  came  he’d  be  left  in  the  fire,  buried  in  the  dirt.   STILL  ,  SHE  TRIES  TO  SOLICIT  HOPE   from  his  cold  hands,  and  his  even  colder  heart.  how  do  they  ask  for  relief  when  they  are  the  ones  who  cause  the  chaos  ?   they  could   easily  be  considered  the  evil  they  so  often  cast  out.  the  sun  sets  on  them,  leaving  them  blind  to  the  delight  of  lightness.  this  is  where  he  was  raised,  it  would  be  shameful  to  not  return  home.   

[dismind]

❛ well, it’s your story & you’re sticking to it. for what it’s worth, you definitely made an improvement              i mean, oops, sorry. WHOEVER did this made an improvement… ❜ he winks in a very blatant & obvious way, as if to let the other know he’s in on the joke, if there’s one to be part of.

         ❝    everything  looks  better  with  a  few  bullet  holes,  gives  it’a  history.  i  agree  completely,  a  definite  improvement.  now  you  know  the  story  when  maria  comes  in.     ❞        

[dismind]

               ❛  you  sure  about that ?  those seem like your kinda bullet holes …   ❜

       ❝     i  don’t  recall.    i  can’t  remember.    ❞

[dismind]

❛ you may not be interested in war, but it is interested in you. ❜

       HE   IS   A   SPECTACLE   ;   HE   IS   A   HERO  .    interest  is  a  precarious  thing,  especially  for  a  story  such  as  he.  of  war  and  horror,  a  nightmare  of  the  honest  making.  he  sighs  in  the  wake  of  his  tiredness,  it’s  been  building  for  years,  this  is  what  age  does.  slowing  him  down  at  a  steady  pace,  until  as  a  corpse,  he  is  completely  immobile.  well,  he’s  already  too  close  to  there.    (    this  brings  the  whole  retirement  thing  in.  ninety  -  five  and  still  kicking.   )     it’s  seems  there’s  no  rest  unless  he’s  dead,  but  that’s  old  news.      ❝     is  that  why  you’re  here  ?   something  told  me  this  wasn’t  a  social  call.   ❞

[bpdvoid]

a bad person? who, me? that would be correct,

[dismind]

❛ yeah, because that totally doesn’t sound fake or anything. whatever you say, pal. ❜

        ❝    weirder  things  have  happened  ?   ❞      the  guy  who’s  unsure  asks  a  statement  as  a  question.

[dismind]

          “Uh-huh. I’ll believe it if you win,” Unfazed by the comment, Tony continues to move his fingers when Barnes sits across from him, corner of his lips twitching into a little smirk as he leans forward, taking a firm hold of the other’s hand when it’s offered. “We should’ve probably gotten a judge for this,” he mulls, almost jokingly (almost). “On the count of three.” 

       ❝    I’VE   PRETTY   MUCH   ALREADY   WON.     ❞        metal  tendons  work  to  twist  and  strain  just  to  form  a  fist,  he  sees  them  dance.  he’s  wondered  before  if  that  would  be  what  it  looks  like  to  watch  his  human  arm  work  be  there  no  skin,  gods  and  their  machines.  what  does  that  make  us.  a  cocky  smile  pulls  back  his  cheeks,  twisting  a  grin.

[dismind]

[dismind]

“ Do you think I did this? “

          DO   NOT   MISTAKE   THE   WORD   FRIEND   FOR   INNOCENT.        he  knows  well  what  it  means  to  do  evil  unconsciously,  it  comes  as  propensity,  instinct.  a  dog  knows  to  bite  when  it  feels  threatened,  he  knows  to  fire.         ❝    doesn’t  matter  what  i  think.     ❞      or  maybe  it  does,  if  just  to  them.  if  just  to  the  history  behind  them,  the  shared  stories  tying  them  together,  be  careful  when  it  forms  a  noose.  he  scratches  at  his  chin,  thinking,  natasha  comes  to  mind,  she’d  know  what  to  do  with  a  hero  turned  fugitive,  she  knew  how  to  deal  with  him.  teeth  grit  under  the  pressure  of  his  thoughts,  of  the  mere  idea  of  her.    (    he  would  not  return  wither  given  the  chance    )

[dismind]

WAR  IS  VILE,     war is filthy,    war is everything they’ve come to know so well,    war is the very thing they wear.     red that bleeds,    red that falls in tresses from an august head,    red painted on the metal of battle.    they,   war - torn,    but never from each other.    not for long.    his grip tightens,   and she works all the more.    speed doesn’t waver her skill,   & they both would rather this were over with sooner rather than later.      ❝      there.   good as new.     ❞     she stands,    leaving him for a moment to clean her hands,    before she returns.    she is slow in her movements,    but there is no hesitation in the way she lowers herself into his lap,    thighs straddling his own.    she offers up a smile,    sacrificial mirth in place of concern that she does not show in the face of his exhaustion.     ❝      hiya,   soldier.     ❞

          the  red  string  strewn  between  them,  knotted,  twisted,  and  torn,  but  never  broken.  it  defines  them.  he  grunts  as  he’s  being  climbed,  the  injury  still  fresh,  still  stinging,  but  that  doesn’t  stop  the  low  chuckle  that  follows,  large  hands  moving  to  her  hips  while  they  work  in  a  harmony.   ❝    you’re  gonna  kill  me,  nat.   ❞     it’s  true  in  many  senses,  they  are  their  beginnings  and  they  are  their  ends.  the  spark  becomes  the  fire  becomes  the  ash.  and  nothing  is  born  from  ash,  it  ends  with  them,  and  that’s  okay.  pain  turns  into  a  smile,  this  whole  situation  happens  to  be  too  common  for  them,  he  knows  how  to  pick  himself  up,  usually  stitches  end  with  whiskey  when  she’s  not  around.  he’s  lucky  today,

[dismind]

a testament to his ability to adapt and accept and disseminate, will doesn’t startle at the sound of his name escaping the man.    ❛  you found him.  ❜    he responds, eyes pinned to the man’s neck, avoiding his eyes, but able to watch his hands move in his peripheral vision. fingers grip the shotgun a little tighter, muscles tensing subtly under his jacket  —- and he’s suddenly faced with a badge. an fbi badge. will stares at it. it’s a slow passage of time,l before will’s eyes, like they’re stuck in honey, drag over to the other man’s face. will’s expression gives away nothing of the thoughts running through his mind. there’s a decided shift in how he holds himself, though, and he gives a nod.     ❛  should’ve used the front door and knocked, then. ❜     is all will has to say, but he lowers his shotgun, and takes a step to the side.    ❛  what does the fbi want with me? it’s late. a phone call would have sufficed.  ❜    he chooses his words carefully, and starts the trek back to his cabin.

     ❝   YOU’RE  AWAKE,  AREN’T  YOU  ?  ❞     he sings something like the night owl,  more commonly known as the insomniac.  dark dreams have nothing on the dark of night,  the difference being that one gives him control and the other terrifies.  he begins to walk towards again picking up quickly as to follow.  maybe politeness would have been a better introduction,  or the explanation of his attempt to find the door,  rather than intrude on a home.    ❝     —     i’ve   heard  about  you’re  technique,  was  wondering  about  some consulting  you  did  regarding  a  certain  case.   ❞    paranoia is a common condition,  voice stern and approaching with a tired lull.  

[dismind]

PAIN  DOESN’T  HURT     when it comes from a lover,   a true lover   ——   no, not as much.    she welcomes his touch,    feels his grip like it belongs,    & gives pause for just a moment to meet his gaze.     it stays,   before she leans toward him to press her temple to his cheek,    followed by the plumpness of her lips.     the gesture is fleeting & is gone as soon as it’d come,     for she returns her attention to her work.     ❝      that’s always good to hear.     ❞     she smiles   ;   she says nothing of the thought   –  no,  the memory  –  that it can happen.   she’s seen him lifeless,    she’s seen him bloody & torn,    she’s seen    ———-    no,   no,   enough of that.

                    STATURE  OF  A  WAR’S  SOLDIER,         palm presses against her as he winces.  a private fight,  god knows he’s left himself out there before,  to be beaten,  the most quiet form of self - harm.  her lips bring a warmth as his head still lolls,  brown bangs detach from his forehead where they previously lay plastered down by sweat and rain.  he’s worn,  overworked,  tired.  but she knows the same evils,  you pretend you are equals.    ❝   hell.   ❞      teeth clench with domineering pain,  jaw tightening along with his grip.  

[dismind]

CONCEP T UR MUSE KISSES BUCKY