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“ how could i ? “ gloved hand lands on the shoulder of his best mate . much like he had always done . squeezing thick muscle through the fabric of clothing , just above where skin melted into metal . “ all the stupid sticks with you . “ another clap there before hand sinks to his side again and steve can return to packing the few things he’d need on mission . “ and while we are at it … don’t you do anything stupid . “
“ don’t do anything stupid . “ @voidsoull
@voidsoull ;; texts from last night part 2 (still accepting) Bucky wrote [ text ]: just got yelled at by a priest...again
[text: Bucky 💪] What the fuck did you do [text: Bucky 💪] Wait, MY priest?? [text: Bucky 💪] Father Timothy? Barnes, I swear to God, if you said or did something scandalous, I'm gonna come over and tear you a new one
@voidsoull in response to stolen shirts
STEVE ROLLS HIS EYES. "As far as I know, I didn't steal your things," he points out. "Your brother got the stuff that didn't fit you anymore, and then I got that. It wasn't even secondhand; it was thirdhand." Or fourth hand, because with money being tight, Bucky never got any expensive brand-new things. "Not that your shirts fitted me; it was like wearing a potato sack." Even after Steve's ma got out the needle and thread to customize shirts and pants for her much smaller son. Steve pours himself another mug of coffee. "Keep it if you're so fond of it. I got it from that store on 6th Street; it's made of organic cotton, fair-trade, and union-made. Though honestly, you're forfeiting your right to make fun of my wardrobe with this. My fashion sense can't be that bad if you're stealing my shit."
i feel something broken inside me. you can't fix it. no one can.
@voidsoull
A small inhale is given at his words as she tries to stifle the sadness that comes over her after his confession. Her face didn't need to read of pity, even that wasn't the emotion she was feeling. He didn't need to see that or construct it into some web that led to further self hatred and guilt.
Slowly the blonde makes her way over to him, sitting down next to him, and for a moment she considers reaching out to gently lay her hand over his arm, but ultimately decides against it.
"Listen, Bucky, I know...I know that I will never ever be able to understand how you feel, or even try to pretend that I can put myself in my shoes after everything that has happened to you. Okay? I can't...but what I can do is remind you of how much progress you've made just in a short amount of time. Bucky, you went through decades of mind control and torture, and it's not going to be an easy fix to conquer all those demons, but hey-"
Her hand now does reach out, giving his fleshed forearm a gentle squeeze. "I've seen broken. You are not broken. You...You're going to be okay Bucky....I promise you....you are going to be okay."
“I’m not trying to control you. I am trying to keep you safe.” ( @ clint )
“You're overreacting, that's what you're doing! It’s just a scratch. Barely nicked me at all.” A lie. It was a very blatant and physically painful lie. The bullet had been a clean through and through to his thigh but the gash in his side was wide open and blood soaked through the make shift bandages he had slapped on earlier, having been just barely clipped by a machete. If it hadn’t been for Bucky showing up when he did with guns blazing, he most likely would not have been lying in the cheap motel bed to begin with. The man didn’t even have to drag his ass out of the warehouse but here he was, his bow and quiver on the far side of the room along with his knives while he tried to convince himself this was nothing more than a paper cut.
“Some coffee, a hot shower, sleep, and I’ll be good as new. Now stop your staring and go do something else.” Clint snapped and instantly regretted it. The pain was getting to him and Bucky didn’t deserve the attitude but it was getting harder and harder to play it off as nothing when a sharp burn radiated through his side with every breath and up his thigh. He needed to get to the bathroom to clean, stitch, and dress both wounds, try to stop infection from setting in. But the idea of moving made him want to be sick so he laid there in silence, one hand fist down into the blankets with a palm pressed pointlessly to his forehead, trying to will the pain away.
“Who the hell fights with machete anyways?!” He growled between clenched teeth.
@voidsoull
@voidsoull ;; texts from last night part 2 (still accepting) Bucky wrote [Text]: i stole nothing, broke nothing, and stabbed nothing. aren’t you proud of me?
[text: Bucky 💪] depends [text: Bucky 💪] Did you also steal/kidnap noBODY, break noBODY, and stab noBODY? [text: Bucky 💪] because I think it's important to differentiate between thing and body here
continued for @voidsoull
"i'm here." it's a reassuring press of the words to her skin-- kiss to exposed back and slowly, bucky's arms move around her centre too. it happens a lot, for both of them. waking from dreams, memories, nightmares. a mixture of pain and bittersweet joy. it leaves a mark, it's bound to. but bucky has come to learn when it was best to stay back, and when to move in close. this felt like one of those moments.
"it's not a memory. i'm here, natalia." lips brush against skin as he speaks, soft, quiet voice for the dead of night. "i'm never leaving. not again. nobody can tear us apart this time."
it had been a rare moment in which she'd let herself really be vulnerable. it was something she'd been trying to allow herself to do, to not just be so closed off all of the time. but it hadn't been intentional either. the safety of their little bubble had started to make her grow complacent, and she'd woken up a little too shaken up for her liking. and had it been anyone else that was here with her, she wouldn't be reacting this way.
he was giving gentle, intimate reassurance and while there was still a part of her that would handle a much colder response easier, she wanted to let herself feel this. she wanted to unlearn what they'd both been taught and to keep herself open to him. so she was trying. for a moment she was still, just feeling the warmth of him behind her, and the way his arms curled around her. after letting the quiet linger a little, she shifted, turning herself so that she could face him, even if it was too dark to really make too much out other than shadows.
and she wished she could truly believe the words he said, but they both knew better that things just... didn't have a habit of working out.
" don't give me false hope, james. " she finally spoke, and a hint of a smile was detectable in her voice. but her words were soft all the same, and genuine too.
@voidsoull
A small shrug is given after the blonde takes a step back from the man unconscious on the floor. He’d be fine. Might have one hell of a headache when he wakes up, but hell, it was better than the alternative she wanted to give. But that would require a hospital stay and a cystostomy- plus cops crawling around with questions.
“He didn’t know when to quit drinking, or when to quit talking.” Brown hues flicker over to the sergeant again, giving another innocent shrug. “I think he had like a fifty shades type set up- oh um, it’s a book. I’ll send you a trailer for the movie- or if you want to read the book I can get you hooked up too.- he wanted me to get involved with his little game. But uh, this was a result of him calling me “pretty little blonde thing”. Jackass...”
