#wovenmind

[wovenwinter]

❛  close  your  eyes ,  bucky .  ❜

Bucky does not fear Jean's touch or her powers, but he does fear what memories her powers will bring forth. It's all part of the process, he knows –– extracting the programming from the recesses of his mind is the only way to begin fixing the damage that had been done to him... but nothing could prepare him for what he had to face in the process.

❛ Okay. ❜ Bucky takes a deep breath and nods his head before his eyes slowly close. He feels Jean's hand rise to touch his forehead. Soon, the memories begin to flash before him. He feels the release, but the images he sees... ( Oh God. He did that. Not by choice, but as the memories come rushing forth, he remembers the sensations he felt. The gruesome scenes his very hands created. )

As if on instinct, one of his hands reaches out to find Jean's free hand. He gives it a squeeze –– and the memories stop flooding through. He peeks an eye open and realizes Jean is staring at him, her fingers momentarily lifted from their place on his head.

He realizes he probably startled her by suddenly reaching for her like that. ❛ Sorry. I –– didn't mean to throw you off. ❜

[wovenwidow]

let me take care of you.

@wovenmind ; meme !

it’s such a foreign feeling. to be loved. to love in return. it was a feeling she had staved off for as long as she could remember. she learned early on ; love is a dangerous thing. attachments were a dangerous thing. she was better on her own. at least, that’s what she told herself. until bucky came back into her life. until that dangerous little flicker of love licked against their skin once again. then, in to her life jean strolled. as if she was always meant to be there. as if she was the missing piece that told natasha she could offer up the beating muscle in her chest that she thought had long since atrophied. 

now, they’re together. as if they always have been. there had been no tiptoeing, no creeping doubt, no insecurities telling her she needed to run far from them. instead, there was a small whisper of a voice that told her she was allowed to be happy. that she was owed this happiness. so she listened. now, everyday she wakes to find herself embraced. to find two individuals who knew her past, and didn’t mind. two people who made her feel human. 

on days like these, when bucky has sailed off to help sam with something natasha never bothered to listen to, she finds herself awoken by jean. the tips of her hair tickling against natasha’s skin as she trails kisses from her bare shoulder, down to her elbow. she hums softly, as she shifts against the bed, her eyes finding the other’s. “and here i was, thinking barnes tired us both out last night.” a kiss is placed to natasha’s cheek, her forehead, her temple, her nose, [ . . . ] her lips. another hum escapes her, though this one vibrates against jean’s lips, before they’re moving to natasha’s jaw. 

‘let me take care of you.’ the words are spoken against her skin, a soft sigh falling from her lips. her hand lifts from the bedsheets, gently brushing through jean’s hair. “whatever you want.” 

[wovenwidow]

i’ve been under scrutiny. 

@wovenmind !

jean’s words pull natasha’s full attention. her brows lift softly as her blue eyes study her closely. if anyone understood being watched under a careful eye -- it would be natasha. from her time in the red room [ . . . ] under the kgb’s thumb [ . . . ] then s.h.i.e.l.d.’s. she knows how it feels to have people question your methods, your intentions, your loyalties.

natasha hums softly, before she lets her eyes return to the computer in front of her. “that tends to happen when you try to do the right thing.” her fingers hesitate over the keyboard, as she steals a short glance towards the woman from under her lashes. “don’t worry. no one’s going to hurt you, anymore.” the words slips so effortless from her lips. she knows they’re just words. “i won't let them, i promise.”

[wovenwinter]

❛  you  really  want  the  truth  all  the  time ?  ❜

The truth. Oh, what an awful thing to want. Some searched for truth, begged for it –– but not Bucky. He hid from it. Ran from it. The truth lurked in the back of his mind, waiting to rear its ugly head and flood him once more. But Jean was helping him; she was inside his mind in a way that no other has been before.

To her, the truth was not the demons that he fought, the ones that he unwillingly sheltered in the recesses of his consciousness. No, to Jean, the truth was who Bucky was underneath all that. To Jean, the truth was the boy from Brooklyn, one who once had a gleam in his eye and a hope in the world. He was currently shackled, held for ransom behind the dark forces that plagued his psyche.

So, did he want the truth? Did he want to hear whether that boy was scarred, mangled beyond repair? Did he want to hear whether that boy would be lost forever? His knee-jerk response would be of course not. But as Bucky looks into Jean's soft green eyes, he knows she has faith in that boy. That she would do everything in her power to extract him from the rubble, and cleanse the space from the beast that slept beneath the surface.

❛ From you? Yeah. ❜ He pauses for a moment, and the silence is soon followed by a nod. Yes, this feels right. He isn't fighting alone; not with her as a powerful force to protect him in a place where he thought no one else could. From her, he could brave the truth.

❛ Always. ❜