#wovenwinter

[wovenwidow]

you knew the entire time. 

@wovenwinter !

her jaw tightens as her teeth clench together. she stares unblinking up at him, her lips pressed into a line. “of course i knew.” her eyes study his face, taking note of the new lines and creases that have formed. smile lines. she thinks about how she had been the cause of his smiles, his laughter, his joy. now, she feels a gut punch of worry she may never see it again. she should have told him. she knows that -- how could she not know that. but, she couldn’t. he’d lost so much. he’d lost time, he’d lost family, he’d lost himself. how was she supposed to sit in front of him and tell him they were once in love.  that she still loved him.

her nose flares slightly as her mind races with her own memories. stolen touches, soft whispers, promises of a life they knew they’d never get [ . . . ] they have it now. her heart thunders in her ears as she realizes she just might lose it. “i couldn’t put more pressure on you.” her eyes search his for a long moment, straining to find any signs of how he feels towards her admission. they drop towards his lips, then to his jaw. she inhales a shake breath, before letting her eyes move back towards his. she focuses just above his eyes, as she steadies herself. “what do we do now ?”

[wovenmind]

you knew the entire time. 

“ usually. ” is the quiet answer she provides before looking up from her book. natasha is asleep on jean’s lap, bucky’s beside her. she isn’t sure why they both like her… love her… want her.

but she hears their thoughts. the life of a telepath, telekinetic. she runs a hand through nat’s hair as she ponders. “ but it was nice to have it confirmed aloud. when most of your life is fielding everyone else's thoughts — you lose track over what emotion is yours & which isn't. ”

she finally smiles at him, looking him. “ i didn’t know if you guys actually liked me or i just wanted you to. ”

[wovenwidow]

none of it was accidental. 

@wovenwinter !

the edges of his t-shirt tickle against her bare legs, his morning voice warming the depths of her belly. a brow arches, as she glances over her shoulder at him. a teasing smirk tugs against her lips, as her hip juts out to rest against his counter. “is that so ?” her eyes stay on his for a long moment, before she’s returning back to pouring coffee in their mugs. she places the coffee pot back into its place, before she’s handing a mug towards him. she ignores the way his fingertips linger against hers as he takes the cup from her hand. she lets her eyes shamelessly look over him. her eyes lingering on the already fading red marks against his neck, his collarbone, his torso. ( someday she’ll find a way to get them to stick around for a day or two. ) she lifts her own mug to her lips, blowing softly against the hot liquid. she glances under her lashes at him, teasing smirk still placed on her lips. “you saying you believe in fate, james ?”

[wovenwidow]

i guess sometimes we all get just what we wanted. 

@wovenwinter !

harsh pants leave her lips, her fingertips brushing against her collarbone. she feels weightless, satisfied [ . . . ] she feels happy. her eyes study the ceiling as she tries to catch her breath. she can feel his hands on her again, brushing against her thighs, her hips, her stomach. she turns her attention to him as he presses a kiss to the bullet wound on her hip. ( eventually she’ll tell him how she got it. ) her hand lifts from her chest, and brushes into his disheveled hair. “you should not be as good at that as you are, barnes.”

she feels him smile against her skin, causing her own smile to pull on her lips. she tugs his hair softly. “come here.” she watches as he lifts himself higher, until their noses brush together. she leans up, letting her lips slant softly against his. she groans softly as she feels his weight rest against her. their lips part, as her hands brush the hair off his forehead. she takes a deep breath, a content sigh slipping passed her lips. she adjusts her knees next to his hips, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “your turn.” she doesn’t give him time to protest, before she’s pushing him over onto his back. she smiles prettily down as him, before pressing a small kiss to his jawline.

[wovenwidow]

you handle it beautifully. 

@wovenwinter !

music, bordering on too loud, floats through the speakers. bright lights dance on people’s glasses, a parade of colorful gowns spin around the dance floor. and where is she ? leaning back against the bar, nursing a double. she watches the women spin across the floor, before they’re pulled flush against their willing partners. ( oh, how she would love to do that. ) she hides her sigh behind her glass as she lets the rest of the stinging alcohol pour down her throat. she sits the glass on the bar, shaking her head when the bartender asks if she’d like another. she looks back towards the floor, eyeing for an escape.

she takes one small step, before there’s a hand extended out in front of her. the bright lights reflect off the metal, shimmering against her eyes. slowly, her eyes scan up to his, her brows furrowed deeply. she feels her breath catch in her throat for a moment as her eyes trail over his features. ( he always manages to look so handsome. ) she swallows the nerves threatening to rise, as she rolls her eyes. “what, you asking me to dance, or something, barnes ?” a soft chuckle slips passed her lips. ‘yes.’ her lips drop from their teasing nature as she watches him, looking for any sign of a joke in his eyes. her palm slips delicately against his, a small shiver running up her arm at the temperature.

before she knows it, she’s found herself swaying slowly next to the others in the crowd. his arms wrapped so tightly around her, she’s not sure how she has room to breathe. “i hate these things," her hand moves from his forearm, gesturing vague around them, before it’s resting back in it’s place. “these political galas. i always feel out of place.” she’s not sure why she says the words, but they slip effortlessly from her lips. as if she can’t stop herself from telling him the truth. ‘you handle it beautifully.’ despite her best efforts, she feelings a warmth begin to pool on her cheeks. she hums softly, letting her head turn from him in a futile attempt to keep her forming blush from his eyes. ( it’s times like these, she almost wants to tell him about their past. )

[wovenwidow]

you know how much i hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back. 

@wovenwinter !

gently fingers weave through his hair. she pulls softly at tangles, careful not to tug, as she lets the soft strands fall between her fingers. her other hand runs soothingly up and down the top of his spine. she feels the cool metal of his palm pressed against her lower back, his other pressed tight against her ribcage. they’ve been pressed together like this for nearly two hours, memories of nightmares keeping sleep away for the both of them. part of natasha is still surprised at herself, the gentle touches coming from her to offer to him. more than that, she’s surprised she’s allowed herself to end up in this position with him. she can feel his forehead pressed against her neck, his breath tickling ever so softly against her collarbone. even now, she is still not used to this treatment. adoration seeps into her bones and warms against every inch of her body. 

she feels him shift against her, before soft words are piercing through the silence the two of them have formed. her fingers slip from his hair, as she lets her palm rest against the back of his head. she shifts her head forward, allowing herself to press a soft kiss to the crown of his head. “i know.” her words are mumbled against him, before she lets her head rest back against the pillows. her fingers return to their stroking, occasionally twisting a lock of brunet hair around the tips of her fingers. “you don’t have to bounce back around me, james. take as long as you need.”

[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.” 

[wovenmind]

tag drop

[wovenmind]

i hear it in your voice. 

she’s not used to people reading her like she can read them. very few in this world could do it. charles xavier was one of them. scott summers as well. logan howlett had been another. — but something about bucky is different. his eyes are wise, his soul is gentle. she didn’t see the prisoner of war that everyone else saw when she looked at him.

she saw someone hurting.

& when he says that to her, she wonders if he sees her. not the doctor in front of him. not the spitfire red head who's stood before congress. but instead, a tiny little girl who was the reason her mother lost control of their car.

the tiny little girl covered in glass, but not harmed one bit. ( not physically at least. ) but he didn't look like he had pity for her. instead, he looked kind. it's why she steps forward, simply pulling him in for a hug. red hair coats his black shirt as her cheek rests on his chest.

" yeah. i know you do, buck. --- can we just stay like this? till nat gets here? " maybe she was no longer ashamed to say she needed to be held. her green eyes squeeze shut. a deep breath falls against her lips.

[wovenmind]

my friends from home don't know what to say. i looked around in a blood-soaked gown. & 𝒊 𝒔𝒂𝒘 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚. 'cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned. everything you lose is a step you take. so make the friendship bracelets, take the moment & taste it. 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐃.

independent & selective 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘 from marvel comics. as written by skye. affiliated with @wovenwidow & @wovenwinter. page found here. rules under construction, but the ones on my multi stand.

[wovenwidow]

how’d we end up on the floor anyway? 

@wovenwinter !

pajama clad knee rubs against her bare one, as she slips another spoonful of ice cream past her lips. her head rests back against the kitchen cabinets in her small apartment, as she offers him a glance. a small smile, hidden away by the spoon, pulls against her lips when she finds his eyes already on her. her brows twitch upwards as he shifts against the tile floor, as his voice breaks the silence in the room. ( how did they end up on the floor ? ) she hums around the spoon in her mouth, before she’s putting it back in the tub of ice cream. she passes it to him, as her eyes move away from his. “i believe you said my kitchen stools are -- and i quote -- the most uncomfortable thing you’ve ever sat on.” green eyes roll softly at her own words. “which, by the way, is the most dramatic thing you’ve ever said.”

[wovenwidow]

@wovenwinter !

auburn hair is thrown over her shoulder, as green hues glance down towards her outfit. she has to imagine steve’s costume is different than the one she’s found for the evening. her arms flex against the fabric, as she twists slightly at the waist, working the tight, thick fabric looser on her skin. she feels like she might have trouble walking -- she can’t imagine having to fight in this thing. ( not that she couldn’t -- just that, she’d rather not. ) 

hands flex in the fingerless gloves she’s paired with the dark blue costume. she offers one last glance at herself in the mirror. she flashes her reflection a large smile -- teeth bared, eyes squinting slightly, before it promptly falls from her features. ( there’s always a party to attend. ) she sighs softly, double checking the hidden firearm tucked deep within the suit. she spins away from the mirror, hair fluttering around her back, as she scoops the fake shield from her bed.

she somehow keeps the clunky boots soft on the floors, as she makes her way through the compound. the shield bumps against her lower back with every step she takes, and she keeps a mental count of each hit. ( one, two, three … ) auburn brows furrow as she takes in the scene in front of her. green eyes slither down his back, a small smirk tugging against her lips. one brow moves from its furrowed place, as it arches on her face. “well, this is embarrassing. one of us is going to have to change.”