Honeydevice - Blog Posts

she was a walking, talking contradiction. all softened edges and harmless eyes, but the way she said they, as if she wasn't tethered to them, like she wasn't still reading from a script handed to her in some cold room lined with glass and clipped words and invisible chains, and always with that look—like she knew him. like she understood.

❝ they never are. ❞ he said dryly. he'd lived through countless conflicts and they were always the same. led by men and women with too much power sending other people to die so they can get more. ❝ you can tell whoever sent you here, i'm not done either. ❞

he watched her watch him, two oposing forces pushing and pulling against each other. whoever she really was, and whoever she really worked for, bucky didn't think it mattered in the long run. ❝ you say you're not here for a weapon, but you talk like you're taking inventory. ❞ the bracelet. the carefully measured breath. the way she looked away right before the real line—i don't want to be next. that was the hook. the hunted always made the best bait. ❝ if that's true, what's stopping you from taking care of the problem yourself? ❞

clea didn’t flinch.  the edge in his voice didn’t faze her;  it was familiar,  expected.  she'd read the file,  sure — but it was the man in front of her she’d come to see,  not the myth.  the myth didn’t smirk like that.  the myth didn’t ask the real questions.  she leaned back,  slow  &  deliberate,  the corner of her mouth tilting just slightly — not a smile,  not exactly.  something more like recognition. 

❝of course you could walk out, ❞ she said easily,  her tone light,  but not dismissive.  ❝ &  they know it,  too.  that’s why they sent me instead of someone with a badge  &  a speech about cooperation.❞ her fingers brushed the bracelet at her wrist again,  idle,  thoughtful.  ❝they,❞ she echoed,  with the faintest lift of a brow,  ❝are like the ones you already suspect.  the ones who like their monsters behind glass.  same people who tried to own you,  rewrite you,  leash you.  they're not finished.❞

her gaze held his,  steady,  even as her voice softened,  dipped just enough to shift the rhythm of the room.  ❝&  no,  i don’t need you to kill anyone.  or topple anything.❞ she paused,  letting that land.  ❝i’m not looking for a weapon. ❞ another breath.  ❝i’m looking for someone who understands what it means when the wrong people start collecting ghosts like us. ❞ she looked away,  briefly,  as if it cost her something to say it out loud.  ❝you want to know what’s in it for me?❞ her eyes returned to his,  sharper now,  more honest.  ❝let’s just say … i don’t want to be next. ❞

❝ you think i can't walk out of here right now? ❞ the soldier asked, a trace of a challenge woven into his voice. whatever power her bosses or their bosses' bosses thought they had was nothing more than wishful thinking. he'd taken apart more than a single police station with less. the only reason he was sitting in that interrogation room, the only reason he'd even stepped foot into the station was because he wanted to.

❝ oh? and who's they, huh? ❞ bucky asked, a humorless smile that was all teeth tugging at the corners of his mouth. he suspected she was good at her job, perhaps even an expert in her field, a shining star. but he'd come face to face with people like her over and over again. people who spoke beautifully, eloquently, who said all the right things in all the right ways. but there was always an angle. some agenda hidden inside all of the carefully interwoven hints and unspoken promises.

❝ and what's in it for you? you gonna share this information with me for what? need me to kill someone for you? destabilise a country? destroy an embassy? ❞ that humorless smile remained, as sharp as the curve of a knife, ❝ i don't work for anyone anymore. ❞

clea’s gaze remained steady,  neither pressuring nor retreating,  her words carefully measured.  she saw the quiet resolve in him — the winter soldier,  a man who had been honed by pain  &  time into something beyond ordinary human limits.  she wasn’t naive enough to think she could break him,   &  there was no need to try.  he was the one who had to decide if he wanted what she had to offer.   

her voice was soft,  like a gentle invitation,  but it carried weight — an offer he couldn’t ignore.  ❝no one is keeping you, ❞ she said,  her words almost soothing.  ❝but you’re already in a position where you don’t have full control,  even if you think you do.❞ she leaned forward slightly,  her expression unhurried,  as though she were discussing a simple fact of life.  ❝i’m not offering you shelter or protection.  i’m offering you information — things you need to know,  things they don’t want you to hear. ❞ she let that hang in the air for a moment,  watching him,  her eyes reflecting an understanding that was almost too knowing.  ❝you don’t have to trust me,  but you should know this: you can’t outrun what’s already hunting you.  not forever. ❞ she tilted her head slightly,  her voice lowering.  ❝i can help you avoid it.  or,  at the very least,  i can tell you how to fight back. ❞

he sat still, shoulders squared, jaw locked, still as death. he'd learned to outlast the worst kind of interrogations, the ones that broke men from the inside out. this wasn't that. not yet. but it smelled like the start of something close. he watched her, his expression neutral and unreadable even was she spoke, words a double edged sword and smile that was all slow edges and dangerous knowing. the silver at her wrist caught the light, a rhythm of movement that should have been casual but wasn't. a distraction maybe. a tell. or both.

he exhaled through his nose, slow. controlled. he didn't answer, something akin to blunt defiance lacing itself into his gaze. if she was fluent in silence then she'd know he had very little intention of bowing under the weight of time.

❝ no one is keeping me, ❞ the man said, voice rough as spent gunpowder, ❝ i'm right where i want to be. ❞ hydra thought they were chasing him. thought he'd slipped, let himself be hauled into the station compliant and docile, an easy target. but while they'd been chasing him, he'd been hunting them. the real fight hadn't started yet, but it would.

❝ what about you? ❞ he asked conversationally, ❝ were you made to be kept? ❞

056: a police station in the middle of the night. -`♡´- › @wintrb0rn

the fluorescent lights overhead hummed with a hollow,  mechanical rhythm,  casting the police station in a sickly,  artificial glow.  clea sat across from him,  legs crossed,  fingers lazily tracing the silver charms at her wrist — just another rhythm,  another pattern.  her hazel eyes gleamed,  not with kindness,  but calculation,  drinking in every micro-shift in his posture,  the way his metal fingers curled,  the tension in his shoulders that never truly left.  ❝you don’t have to talk, ❞ she murmured,  her voice velvet-soft,  but edged with something serrated.  ❝but silence is a language,  too.   &  i’m fluent.❞ the two-way mirror behind her reflected their tableau in distorted light,  an audience lurking unseen.  she didn’t bother looking.  let them listen.  this conversation wasn’t for them.   

it wasn’t the police holding him here.  not really.  the moment bucky barnes set foot in this station,  the real players had taken notice.  ghosts in government files,  voices that operated just beneath the skin of the world — people who didn’t believe in loose ends.  he fit the profile too well: a relic of war,  a weapon out of time,  a mind too dangerous to be left unchecked.  if he didn’t walk out of here soon,  he wasn’t walking out at all.  clea tilted her head,  a slow smile ghosting across her lips.

 ❝they’re waiting you out,  hoping time will wear you down.  but you  &  i both know — time’s never been their weapon.  it’s always been ours. ❞ her voice dipped,  quiet,  sharp.  ❝you don’t have to trust me.  but if you let them keep you,  you’ll be theirs.   &  you weren’t made to be kept,  were you,  soldier?❞