#coldfrcnt

❛ i did warn you not to trust me. ❜ / for cal !

"What makes you think I trusted ya?" Cal asks, leaning back where he sat. Truth be told, he didn't trust anyone these days. Not with all he'd been through. Didn't mean it still didn't hurt, knowin' it was coming. "So what? They want me dead or caged?"

they had a few meetups since the gala, spending their time with one another. there was no need for the masks in each other's presence any longer. it wasn't about glamor nor the festivities of the ball. this was about real connection. the sheer luck that her sister had been a supporter of their cause; he was not her enemy. the two of them were free to fraternize as they pleased. no secrets to be had about their relationship.

❝  you should be careful with how you word that, i might get the wrong impression. ❞ he said with a half - laugh, unable to shake the feeling that it was a confession of sorts. their interactions had been chaste so far. not taking the opportunity to go farther than a bit of hand - holding - the awkward tension between them was daunting. he wished to display more affection to a woman like her. knowing that there was no consequence to be had. the fear of mixed signals being his only barrier. he didn't want to mistake her kindness for romantic emotions. though, her words had come out like a confession - letting him know that she had felt the same towards him. he warned her; the only way that he could, not wanting her to make a mistake

~~~~~

Aislin hadn’t meant romantic attraction, but rather that she enjoyed Bucky’s company and felt safe with him. She generally was wary of men, having had bad experiences with creeps hitting on her and such. There was comfort around him that she only felt with male relatives and her best friend.

“I’m sorry —, I meant in that I’ve been worried about you. You isolate so much,” Aislin frowned, “I understand being an introvert, but you need some companionship,” she told him, reaching up and putting her hand on his bicep reassuringly. There was an underlying sensual tension between the two of them, but Aislin was admittedly oblivious to it. Comfort was friendship, right? Not romantic feelings? She couldn’t parse them apart easily.

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐓  𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒    strange lights to glimmer behind her heavy lids,  the full seam of her mouth drawing into some mimicry of a smile.  Warm in the eyes,  treacherous in the curve  —she watches as Bucky carefully turns the delicate length of her hand in his own.  Her silver rings glint against the slow-setting sun,  faint lines marking her narrow palms being traced by the man's gentle touch.  Her chin lowers,  loveliness of her face beams as her fingers,  long and slender,  curl to affectionately graze mauve acrylics against the exposed skin at his wrist.

Dmitry raised an eyebrow at the words before immediately nodding to concede. "Of course, just to shut me up; that's— entirely reasonable, really. I mean..."

He did have a tendency to just talk —at length, about anything— in Russian-tinged words of casual English. This was something Dmitry freely acknowledged he did, and not really something he seemed to be able to stop himself from inevitably doing. He knew it could annoy certain kinds of people, didn't even take it personally at all. It just was.

But then... No one had ever kissed him just to shut him up, had they? Usually, it was just a sharp look or a gentle "you're doing that again." Some people didn't even seem to mind it at all, always supplying the odd question here and there or bringing up topics they knew he had interest in. Dmitry was almost certain, almost, that Bucky was in that last camp. The guy didn't have to hang out with him, after all. And yet... And yet, hang out they did.

Dmitry chose to take the words as a not-admission, like Bucky couldn't say it. That was okay, too. But just the same, Dmitry himself had refrained too, figuring that he was probably misreading things. Dmitry "I'd make out with a friend" Hackshaw did not want to make Bucky Barnes uncomfortable, did not want to make wrong assumptions and lose someone he thought of as a friend. (Was friend even the right word, really? He hoped.)

"imagine if i made you cry," there's a pause to let the thought linger, a soft snort following. natalia's not exactly sure whether it's a compliment or something she should worry about - against her better judgement, she decides to trust her gut about it ... it's not that deep, as the kids say these days apparently. "are you actually mad at me?" more serious now, brow quirked up when she turns to face him.

"Do you promise that I'm going to be okay?" / @coldfrcnt

“   uh   ,   like    —    metaphysically   ?   ”   there's   a   pause   ,   because   he   surely   can't   mean   ANYTHING   else.   they're   government   pawns.   she   can't   promise   a   damn   thing.   buttercup   blinks   ,   but   when   he   doesn't   offer   anything   else   ,   she   adds   ,   “   i   mean   ,   you'll   live.   ”   probably.   maybe.