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schoenpepper · 3 months ago

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This Love is Skin Tight

Intro: Vil's love has arms and teeth, it latches onto you and never lets go.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, he's kinda nuts ngl, just like i like my men, death idk, yandere, curses and poisons and stuff, like one German word and a couple French but it's from google translate, swear words

A/N: Got overexcited and rushed through my first request. I hope you like it anon whose emoji I can't understand (worm? intestine? noodle? isaw anon what).

Masterlist

The dominoes fall one by one, and it starts with a potionology exam.

One you fail, mind you, but Vil can't think of a more perfect entry point to your life. He's the Pomefiore housewarden after all; he got his position by virtue of his potionology (and poison brewing 💜) skills, so you would obviously come to him for help. He would scold you for failing in the first place, but he would reluctantly agree to tutor you. Alone. Behind locked doors. Well after curfew. He's so generous, really, should you be too scared to traverse campus in the middle of the night on your lonesome, he would even be willing to lend you a room in the dorm (but if it just so happens that the empty rooms are dusty, he's afraid he won't be able to use magic to clean them, and instead, he'll have to lend you his bed). The perfect plan leading to his perfect romance.

"So I got Riddle senpai to teach me!"

What?

His head turns so fast towards your table in the cafeteria that he's sure his neck almost snaps, but he's too preoccupied with your words to care. You chose to have that hot-tempered redhead tutor you rather than him? He's clearly the best option. Sure, Rosehearts is smart, but book smart wouldn't give you the knowledge and ability that his hands-on teaching would give you. You've made a terrible decision; ergo, he must rectify it.

He makes his way over to you in confident strides, making sure to flash you his best side when he calls out to you. "Süßkartoffel, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation from my table. If you're struggling so much at potionology, I could gracefully lend you my time to teach you, even amidst my very busy schedule."

You'll say yes, of course. He's already offered himself to you; what more do you want? He inspects the expression on your face and thinks of how much lovelier it would look once he gained control over your skincare routine.

"Oh, no, thank you, Vil senpai." You reply.

Frowns bring wrinkles, anger brings wrinkles.

Vil has to repeat the sentence over and over again in his mind for him not to break then and there. Maybe you'll agree to his offer if he accidentally drops two cursed sugar cubes into Rosehearts' lemon tea? He can't find it in himself to verbalize the threat when you smile at him so innocently, your eyes sparkling as you spoke. "I wouldn't want to take up your time, I know you barely have enough time for yourself." He fails to reply before the bell rings, and you pat his shoulder twice before skipping away with your merry band of idiots.

He did not spend at least thirty minutes in his room after classes just burying his face into the part of the blazer you'd touched. That would be disgraceful.

The second domino tips over when you visit the Film Research club. He preens like a peacock at your arrival, making sure his beret is snug on his champagne locks and his camel trenchcoat is absolutely flawless—not a speck of dirt on it. He acts undeterred by your presence, crossing one leg over the other as he sits on the folding chair. Lilac eyes glance your way before going back to the set, and he gestures at the staff manning the clapperboard. Vil pretends that he's all too focused on the actors, though he keeps you in his peripheral. Thus, he's halfway to insanity when he notices you're giggling with Ortho by the curtains instead of fawning over his gorgeous figure. How dare you?

You're so annoying.

Why aren't you tripping over yourself for him the way that you should? This is ridiculous!

His hold on the megaphone slips, and the sound of it crashing to the floor stops the actors on the scene. "Apologies." Vil looks at them haughtily. "Your acting was so boring and uninspired that my hand fell asleep."

Ha, see if he doesn't curse that robot child to never be around five feet of you again.

The students scurry back to their original places and restart the scene. Now you're finally looking at him. He straightens his posture to an impeccable standard under your admiring gaze, and even now, he still can't find a way to concentrate on his club activities. No, he wants to drag you over to sit on his lap in the director's chair and have you play with the clapperboard in that adorable fidgety manner you do whenever you're anxious. The scene finishes with audible sighs of relief from the actors.

"Y/N. Come here."

You walk over to him. "Yes, senpai?"

"Did you learn anything from their performance or did you just come here to chatter with Ortho?" Vil's tone comes out perhaps a little more poisonous than he would have liked, but you don't seem to mind it as you chuckle sheepishly. "Sorry, I wasn't watching too closely." You don't sound sorry at all.

"Then don't waste your time here if you're just going to be unproductive." Before he could offer you a chance at being his (permanent) assistant director, you bow at a perfect 45-degree angle. "I'm so sorry, senpai. I'll leave, then. I'm very sorry to disturb you." You walk away faster than he can stop you, and it makes him wonder if perhaps he should just hex your shoes to stay in place every time he's saying something that you so love to conveniently cut off. Would it kill you to let him finish his sentences? The corner of his lip twitches. He takes another deep breath.

He's a little too close to just locking you away in a basement forever.

The last domino falls and shatters his resolve to be a normal person and court you like a normal person would (read: meticulously create a series of coincidences that will have you seeing him in a new light and making you fall for him).

On such a beautiful, brilliant sunny day, he finds storm clouds drawing above his head at the sight he catches in the botanical garden. Leona Kingscholar, of all people, seems so comfortable laying his head down on your lap as you sit against a tree with a book in your hands. At Vil's fuming, Rook drops down next to him (where the fuck did he come from) and gleefully asks a question, plucking the string of his bow. "Permission to hunt the roi des lions, mon roi?" For once, he's glad that his best friend is a freak. The word leaves his lips before he can even think about it.

"Granted."

Whoosh, an arrow flies through the air and pins a corner of Leona's vest to the ground when he makes a move to dodge. "Ah, you were awake!" Rook shouts as he runs over to the beastman with a wide smile. "This should make the hunt more fun."

Leona clicks his tongue and sits up before bolting right across the field.

"Get away, you fucking nutjob!"

"Non, non, this is a permitted hunt!"

Vil watches with a subtle smile playing on the curve of his lips. When he finally turns to you, he finds a numb expression on your pretty face. "My, süßkartoffel, I didn't think that you and that lion were so close." You shrug and close your book. "I was walking when he pulled me down and claimed me as his pillow, so I just went with it."

Sorry, you just went with it?

His smile feels a little too heavy to keep up.

You just went with it? Are you serious? Are you real? What if I knocked you out right now and chained you to my bed? Will you still go along with it, then? What about if I dose your food with love potions?

"I see. Y/N, walk with me." Vil commands, snapping his fingers. You oblige and follow him all the way back to the Pomefiore dormitory in a deadly silent stroll. He opens the door to his room for you and locks it, murmuring a quick curse on the doorknob before turning to face you. "I would like to preface this by saying that this is not the way I wished to confess to you."

"No problem. What would you like to confess?" You have the nerve to beam at him in this situation. Do you even know what he's saying?!

You sit down on the edge of his bed, looking up at him so innocently. So naive and guileless.

He thinks he'd like to ruin you.

He wants to break you down into pieces and rebuild you in a way where you would want him in this monstrous form, all envy and sharp claws unsheathed. He wants to piece you back together with his name in every shard of your being. He wants to engrave you into himself, and by doing so, never be apart ever again. The only thing he does is kneel at your feet.

"Please tell me why you're like this." Vil whispers softly, leaning his head on your knee.

"I'm not sure I follow..."

"I love you." There's relief when he finally gets the words out of his mouth. He should have stopped there. Instead, the rest of his misshapen adoration comes spilling from his lips, confessions of unholy yearning leaving him like a prayer. "Truly, I love you so much that I despise you. I love you like the world loves the sun; I wish to burn in flames to witness your splendor. I love you like the tides love the moon; my heart threatens to engulf shores in watery death should you choose to look away from me. I love you like no one else has ever loved before; they are all embers in comparison to this fiery hearth I've tended for you." He feels your fingers gently running through his hair.

"Senpai..."

"Do you not find me ugly like this? Despicable? A monster comparable to eldritch horrors?" Vil frowns, his eyes teary. He is not a man who weeps, but what he is is an actor of great renown. "My love for you is too intense; it threatens to kill everyone you care for in an attempt to keep you for myself. My love is too eternal; it wishes to isolate you from those dregs of society you call friends; it wishes to devour you in your entirety. My love for you whispers to me with bloodlust, and only your flesh will satisfy it." He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles gently.

"Okay."

"Er, pardon?"

You shrug, patting his head. "If you like me that much, let's be together. So, like, do we kiss now or...?"

Vil stares up at you wide-eyed.

"Kiss?"

"Isn't that what couples do?"

"Pardon? Are we," He blinks. "Are we a couple?"

"I thought you liked me? I like you too. So we're a couple now, right?" You lean down and kiss his lips. You're inexperienced, for sure, only awkwardly fitting your mouths together. Vil thinks he might be insane with the way he chases after your lips, regardless.

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #gender neutral reader #x reader #twst x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit #pomefiore #pomefiore x reader #yandere #yandere x reader

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mysticalmusicwhispers · 4 years ago

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💫 - what is their favourite thing about their partner? for seyhongice 👉👈

I have a huge hunch about who sent this and I APPRECIATE YOU >:))))))) also feel free to talk to me about hongicesey/seyhongice anytime (also I’m treating this as like, a poly relationship where they’re all in a relationship with the other two, but if you wanted something different please tell me!)

Emoji asks!

Ngl, this is sorta hard but:

Iceland @ Hong Kong: loves HK’s goofiness, coolness, and his ability to just go his own way. He thinks HK radiates like, confidence and the ability to say “fuck the normal people, they’re boring; let’s do it with our own style!” His originality and yolo sort of attitude is something that Iceland lacks (he tries so hard to be “normal”; but is simultaneously tired of trying; but still afraid of what’ll happen if he stops repressing stuff about himself he thinks is awkward or cringey) and he loves him for it.

Iceland @ Seychelles: loves her optimism!! She’s just. a bright ray of sunshine, so much of the time. Hong Kong leans toward the pessimist side (but you can’t really tell because: his jokes, in which he usually shows his more pessimistic thoughts, are always so bad or so funny you overlook the actual content, which could be pretty grim). And Iceland can’t really say he’s the most optimistic himself. So he appreciates Seychelles a lot for that; she’s not like, an “annoying optimist” I guess, she knows when things are serious and when it looks like there’s no hope, but she always looks for the bright side and tries to see the best in people. It’s very sweet and Iceland thinks it’s the best thing about her.

Hong Kong @ Iceland: loves how he can drag Iceland around as his partner in crime when they’re doing stupid stunts

jk jk, serious answer is: his maturity and his emotions/passion. Firstly, Ice grounds the two of them (Sey and himself) when they get a bit... carried away with things. He can be a little bit of a downer sometimes and rain on people’s parades, but his sensibilities have actually prevented them doing like, incredibly stupid things that wouldn’t really be cool (they’re not stupid things that are also /dangerous/, because HK and Sey both know better, but just. Stupid things that would probably hurt someone involved.) The other thing is how Emotional Iceland can get. Not like sobbing and being a drama queen (although that happens sometimes) but how he’s really. expressive I guess? He’s much more transparent than HK and the amount of passion he has for the things and people closest to him is just. very nice :) Not saying HK is emotionless (because he isn’t) but he likes that Iceland is just. Super Passionate about some things, and he loves seeing his usually quiet, man of few words bf ramble on and on about things he loves (that includes HK sometimes :D).

Hong Kong @ Seychelles: Her funness! She either goes along with his stupid plans or puts a spin on them that makes them safer/slightly less stupid and even better! She’s super flexible with like, life in general and is always down for some fooling around (pranking England? Yeah! April Fools joke in China’s tea? Yes! (she can also calm people down really well so they can get away with a lot of stuff, which is a bonus)); he loves how she’s just really chill to be around! Seychelles’s generosity is something that always surprises him too, no matter how many times he’s seen it in action. Hong Kong tends to hoard material items and would usually laugh at someone struggling (if it’s serious he’ll go and help out but like, small things? you’re on your own buddy), and Iceland just doesn’t bother to interact with people a lot, but Seychelles! She goes out of her way to make other people’s days better! HK admires her kindness and her heart (of gold).

Headcanon: they are a very cool rollerskating/rollerblading duo. Literally the best skaters ever; tricks, fancy steps, flashy stuff. Also please give me a skateboarder AU. Iceland unfortunately has two left feet when skating/blading, but he’s like pro level at figure skating and flexes it over those two noobs ALL the time.

Seychelles @ Iceland: his quietness. She’s naturally pretty chatty (unless she’s got a grudge against someone *cough cough England*), but rambles a lot, especially when she’s nervous or feels awkward. But with Iceland and Hong Kong, she can just sit in comfortable silence and not feel like she has to fill up the air with words. Also she gets a little tired of talking sometimes, so with Iceland, there’s a sort of quiet tranquility and deeper understanding in the silence. She doesn’t feel like she has to say anything to feel what he’s thinking or understand him; she finds it restful. Also they go on hiking trips together where neither of them speak at all and it’s the highlight of their whole day. This is canon now.

Seychelles @ Hong Kong: how he’s really fashionable. This one is sorta shallow but: Seychelles thinks HK is always up with the times and the trends, in step with the latest fashions and Cool New Things. She’s sorta disconnected from that and admires how he always seems to be with the “in crowd”? I guess? Always super smooth and slick; although Seychelles is just as sociable as HK she often doesn’t feel that way, and thinks of herself more as an awkward homely girl. So seeing confidence like Leon’s, especially in his fashion choices and just overall trendsetting quality, is something she really likes about him.

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qqueenofhades · 7 years ago

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I was (?) a Lyatt shipper who loved Flynn since S1 bc I love a good bad boy. I've been sympathetic to him since the 70s (ha!) when we found out about his wife and kid being murdered. So I found your blog and was loving all the Flynn stuff but I wasn't into Garcy. Thought "ew"--isn't he more like cool young uncle material for her? Fast forward to today and I have read every Garcy ff you have written and have fallen completely into the trash can. I know you prob hear this a lot lately...(1)

(2) but I wanted to thank you so much for writing The Tangled Web of Fate. What a masterpiece! You make the storyline in the same tone as canon somehow. You really have Flynn’s emotions and voice down pat. So good. Makes me believe in Garcy. In fact, makes me want Jessica and Logan to figure out their crap and that way everyone can be happy bc at this point I don’t want Jessica to be unhappy or go away either. Anyway, I went from Garcy sounds gross to GIVE ME MORE. So thanks?

(3) sorry. I feel panicked that we are running out of time (unoriginal pun) and might only get 5 more episodes and Flynn won’t get the full character development and happy ending he deserves. If it were up to you, would you give him a redemption arc and a happy ending or would you keep him as garbage boss? Also, dude is a full head taller than the industrial fridge in the bunker and they need to find a couch he can be comfy in. He looks like a giant living in a tiny house. My poor baby.

Ahaha. This delights me to no end, ngl. My powers are groooowing. And you have given me a lot to talk about here, so thanks. :)

Honestly, the people insisting on reading Garcy as familial/platonic/theorizing that Flynn is somehow Lucy’s son/they’re otherwise related are… very confusing to me? To say the least. Though to be totally frank, it’s often clearly by people who have an agenda in discrediting Garcy as a viable alternative to Lyatt (which they… probably don’t need to do, I mean for better or worse, the writers have made their preference/narrative direction clear. Alas). I obviously have no problem with people shipping whatever they want in whatever way they do, but… yeah, Garcy’s vibe ain’t platonic or familial (and if for some wild reason they DID end up Magically Related, like Flynn was somehow Lucy’s long-lost brother from an alternate universe or whatever, I wouldn’t stop shipping it, or even writing smut for it. I’d be like, “well writers, you got yourself into this with this far-fetched and illogical forced plot twist that does not fit with anything that has been written or acted beforehand, so I’m going to just go for Time Traveling Flowers in the Attic. Ooops?”) I’ve had plenty of posts with the way Flynn looks at/acts around Lucy (just saying, if my uncle looked at me like that, I would make sure never to be alone with him at family events) and the way she’s started to look back at him. And Goran Visnjic has straight up said that Flynn is “infatuated” with Lucy and we’ve had a lot of teasing about “does Flynn have a thing for Lucy” re: 2x06 that makes me wonder if we’re going to get some kind of more explicit confirmation of the way he feels about her. Goran has also encouraged us to read between the lines, so people can want it to be just a friendship (because they prefer another romantic partner for Lucy, and again, that’s fine, whatever) but he’s consciously acting it as a pretty romantic fascination. So yes. We aren’t just making that up.

Also, just saying, we KNOW who Flynn’s mom is, she’s a named and identified character, she appeared in an episode, Rittenhouse was originally sending Rufus, Lucy, and Assassin Goon to kill her in 1x15 with the aim of erasing Flynn from history. So “Flynn is Lucy’s son” is just… did you guys not notice Maria Thompkins? Who was awesome and I love her? Besides, if Flynn was Lucy’s son, she wouldn’t NEED time travel to meet him, and we know the journal is connected to new time tech (traveling on your own timeline). He couldn’t be anything less than her grandson and that would still be ludicrously complicated, as it would require Lucy to have Maria at some point while traveling in the past, then… straight up abandon her, then go back to her own timeline, then wait for Flynn to grow up, then travel back to meet him…. etc. It’s a mess. We know Flynn’s parents’ names (Asher Flynn and Maria Thompkins); hell, we know more about his family than we do about Wyatt’s. Why is no one theorizing that Wyatt is secretly Flynn and Lucy’s son? (I kid, I kid. But still. It makes about as much sense, if not more, which is to say it doesn’t.)

Anyway yes, I always felt like that was a pretty transparent attempt to make Garcy a non-romantic option in order to remove it as a shipper threat, but that doesn’t mean people can’t ship it as a friendship/brotp. I’m just saying, however, that it has been (at least certainly on Flynn/Goran’s end) played as a romantic thing, even if latent and unspoken and complicated. (Also, he went really quickly for the “honey…” and “what my wife failed to mention” lines in 1x11 and 2x04, so even if Flynn won’t admit it, he instinctively sees Lucy in some way as his wife.) So yes. Making them related would be a COMPLETELY illogical stretch, but… if they did that, yeah, I’d probably still ship it. (Shrug emoji.) Because I would recognize that the council had made a decision, but given as it was a stupid-ass decision, would elect to ignore it. (Insert Nick Fury gif here.)

Next, I am obviously glad that you are enjoying my fic and it has converted you to one of us. I started writing the Wyatt/Jessica stuff before she arrived back on the show and am rather pleased with how nicely it fits. Wyatt in canon needs a serious reality check, which I am hoping he gets. I obviously forgave Flynn for being a total fuckup and hurting everyone, I am absolutely willing to do the same for Wyatt, but he needs to have the “well shit I’ve been a selfish ass and am going to substantively make up for it” moment first. I hope the big finale moment is him finally owning up to his dickish behavior and putting everyone else first and otherwise reversing course. Because yeah. I’m judging.

Lastly, I WORRY ALL THE TIME ABOUT US GETTING CANCELLED AFTER THIS SEASON BECAUSE IT WOULD BE A TRAVESTY. A TRAVESTY. The short season has always hurt us narratively, though of course it’s great to get it, but then to cut it off there with no more space at all… god. It gives me the shudders just to think about. And one of the reasons is yes, give me my full redeemed-antihero Garcia Flynn redemption arc. Goran has talked a lot about how we’re seeing more of his real nature this season, and just yes. We saw throughout season 1 that Flynn hated to do a lot of what he was doing, but he did it anyway in the larger purpose of bringing down Rittenhouse (and nobody has yet acknowledged that he was right all along about them…we need more conversations/authentic character moments, guys, NOT SOAPY RELATIONSHIP DRAMA. JUST SAYING). He never really WANTED to be a garbage disaster, but he loved his wife and daughter more, and he was dedicated to taking Rittenhouse down to the point that he thought he couldn’t return to them even if he did save them. So no, he was not a character who was just out there burning shit down for the fun of it (though he does enjoy it in some ways, because… he’s a disaster). But Flynn’s character file in canon has him fighting in a lot of small-scale liberation wars (Chechnya, Bosnia, Kosovo, etc) against occupying/oppressive regimes, and that’s basically what he’s doing with Rittenhouse. He is a good man with a very strong moral code, but also a very grey one. He has correctly identified the overall enemy and is dedicated to destroying them, but he won’t be the hero wringing his hands over it because “it’s not right” to use violence. Which the Time Team is leaning on themselves (they basically left Flynn in 1934 to be a hitman, so… no more judgey remarks about “he’s a killer” would be nice, guys. You know he is and you’re using that because you need it.)

So yes. Flynn doesn’t WANT to be a garbage disaster, so it would be cruel to keep him as one. He is sassy as hell, but he also seems happier working with the team than he ever really did alone (as Goran has also discussed). Again: MORE CONVERSATIONS!!! Did Flynn just see it as business in trying to take out the team before, since they were trying to stop him from taking down Rittenhouse, and now that they agree on who the threat is, he’s happy to work with them? Is Garcia “why do I even delegate” Flynn really trusting them (at least aside from Lucy, who he clearly does) to do what’s needed, or does he essentially think he still has to do it himself? DEVELOPMENT PLEASE!

I wanted Flynn to permanently join the team ever since 1x10 (as that episode threw me down the dumpster in SO many ways) so obviously, I want that to keep up. The 2x07 pic of him and Rufus clasping hands made me hella emotional (also: we still haven’t had a Flogan scene since Flynn arrived in 2x03 and Wyatt stormed out in a hissy fit…still judging for skipping the Messy Boys Trip in 2x05). I want him to be developed and integrated more into the team and made a part of them, because I’m a hopeless sucker for villain becomes weird family member and redeemed antihero and found family and enemies-to-lovers/enemies-to-friends. So yes. Please don’t screw it up, guys.

(Also yes. Yes, I noticed him being taller than the god damn fridge at the end of 2x05. He’s HUGE and it’s ridiculous.)

#lucy x flynn #garcy #timeless meta #timeless spoilers #timeless critical #(not really but just in case)#my garbage boss #anonymous #ask

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pulchramusae-archived · 3 years ago

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@blade-of-fraldarius asked // ...oh go on then, 🎰!

send 🎰 and i’ll randomly generate five ships for our muses! (accepting)

let’s get ready to RUMBLEEEE

ONE: Avery and Dorothea

[ handshake emoji ] badass women born out of wedlock gang ... BESIDES THAT i can probably see them as sibling-figures if anything else bc. even though avery doesn’t really know what it’s like to live a life similar to what dorothea had to go through, after a while i feel like avery would start to understand. this can be platonic if shipping isnt to your liking but avery would also attend performances dorothea would be involved with as a way to support her if they grew close

TWO: Ganyu and Petra

liyue’s the staple of commerce and trade in teyvat, so maybe in a world where fodlan and teyvat coexist, i can see ganyu accompanying lady ningguang on a trip to brigid to discuss opening a trading system between the two regions - and maybe that can work as a first meeting, i don’t know! ngl i can already imagine ganyu recalling her time during the archon war if petra ever wanted to hear about it.

THREE: Fiore and Annette

considering fiore being wheelchair-bound since birth, she would... not have a good time wheeling herself around the monastery grounds if she were a student. despite the setback i can absolutely see her forming an interesting friendship with annette !!

FOUR: Anastasia and Judith

idk how this happened anastasia just needs a maternal/older sibling figure in her life rn

FIVE: Lumine and Claude

it’d take approximately three hours and fourteen minutes for claude to figure out that lumine is not from fodlan. calling it now.

#you can tell where i started to make windows shut down noises ibsdsnfbnbdnfe #also lmk if you wanna talk more about any of the pairs above!! some i can personally see as platonic but im open to discussion :eyes emoji:#ooc // girl help.#ooc // answered.

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chiaroscuroverse · 6 years ago

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What would you say are your biggest tumblr pet peeves?

Ok, Nonny, let’s do this! I am super curious and ngl a little suspicious about whether this is “about” something, since a lot of people are getting it ,which I should probably list as an item number–that is, reasonable sounding things that turn out to be stealth-something-else. (I was there, Gandalf!) But, I am going to take my own advice from earlier and assume good faith since I have no reason to believe otherwise!

I rambled a lot, so here’s a cut! (except not for mobile users, sorry! didn’t mention that as a peeve because hopefully tumblr will fix that shit!)

Not tagging. Ok, obvs nobody *has* to tag. Especially if someone is mobile-only, I GET that Tumblr increasingly makes tagging so effing difficult! So, tagging has nothing do with whether I will like you as a person. It will affect whether I can follow (if I follow non-taggers that means we’re *very* simpatico in likes and interests). I don’t have a lot of bandwidth, so I add to my dash slowly, but when I’m going through fandom looking to add follows, it’s the first thing I look at, followed by making sure they don’t hate certain key characters, haha. Aside from filtering capabilities, I really enjoy tagging as a space for personality expression. It adds a lot to the experience! And the way tagging conventions have evolved as their own type of language expression is very cool.

Guilt-tripping! Ohhh, wow, this is kind of hard to explain, and it’s something that can’t be tagged for, and is probably in many ways totally subjective, but I have a very quick trajectory from reading something that is control-attempt-by-means-of-guilt-shame to going all *knife emoji* and wanting to run as far away as possible. Long story short, I’ve figured out that I have triggers from my fundamentalist background, yay. :/

Gatekeeping! We are all responsible for our own selves and what we read or otherwise consume. Ship and let ship, and all that jazz. Each person’s headcanons only exist in their own head. Story does not equal headcanon. No fan is the boss of any other fan. Also a bit hard to express but here goes: “I ship what I ship because I do.” Shipping is an overflow of the heart - no one is going to stop shipping something because of online disapproval AND - AND - no one is going TO ship something because people on the dash think they ought to, for whatever good and pure reason. IMO, when shipping gets mixed into meta discussions of trends and societal issues it quickly devolves. We can have discussions and education about a lot of cultural issues without it being “about” whether thus-and-so is a “bad” ship. It undercuts the arguments anyway, when it looks like some serious social analysis is really about a ship war.

Mean anons! Let it goooooooo, let it go! LOL It’s weird to observe nearly all dissenting opinions coming to other people in the form of anons. Like, if you wanna disagree with someone, why not just comment under your url instead of sending snarky anons that will automatically sound ten times more aggressive because of being anon?? Knocking on all the wood around me, I’ve been here since 2014 and have not yet gotten a mean anon (and would prob not publish, and lol this seems like I’m testing the anon gods :P). They seems to be 1. people who have a fixation, and 2. people who won’t have a url-face to url-face disagreement. (Also, people still sound like themselves on anon - I don’t think this gets said enough! :D) And I get it - it’s not like I haven’t composed some anon messages in my head after some infuriating behavior, but I assume I wouldn’t be as anon as I think haha, and also, who cares, people can and will be wrong on the internet. Move on and live. Nice anons on the other hand are marvelous! :P

Lord, I’ve said enough! Thanks, happy hour! lol. But let’s go one more:

What to call this? Maybe, treating following as equal to friendship? [ETA: whoops I should have said “following equal to friending ie Facebook” thus thinking of unfollowing like unfriending], Following is about what you want to see on the dash/what you’re currently into, not about whether you like or affirm someone as a person (I’ve realized this can be read another way soooo I mean it to be reassuring in the sense of not following doesn’t mean I don’t like you...I hope this hasn’t gotten muddled beyond understanding whoops). There are people I like A LOT who have incompatible fandom things. Unfollow ANYTHING, including this blog, that doesn’t make you happy, even if I’m your biggest fan, even if we’re mutuals or pals. (If we’re friends, you can talk to me about it - I kinda hate there is no script for this situation.) I won’t assume you never want to speak to me again unless you give another indication :P I am putting this into practice myself in 2018. I am so serious, I only want followers who want to be here! It makes me really uncomfortable to imagine reluctant or socially obligated followers, please fly free!

Well, Nonny, that’s more info than anyone needed! And I don’t love talking about just negative things (like now I’m hoping no one is anxiety-triggered over something I said). Sooooo, I just hope we can all try to give each other more grace and space and assume more good faith in 2018. This is a VERY WEIRD and hard to figure out space we have to coexist in to do fandom, and it makes sense that we frequently rub up against each other and have to deal with that. I’m probably going to look over that list again and think about whether there are things I could do better at taking a more goodwill approach for for.

But I am super curious what kicked off the inquiry, so please follow up if there’s anything you found out that you needed or whatever. :P

#more information than you wanted to know #ask replies #Anonymous #haven't even gotten into the bizarro stuff out there in the wider tumblr world #because it hasn't infiltrated our exact fandom much #tumblr woes #but oh i do have some opinons :P #fandom

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queenmabscherzo · 7 years ago

Text

DVD commentary - Targeting, Ch. 26

this is the second part of the chapter. i didn’t want to do all the post-game interviews and stuff, i mean, that is what it is. but i really like talking about the boys :’) so for the anon who requested chapter 26, here’s most of it:

Winning is a hell of a drug. And the crash? That's apocalyptic.

It starts during the trip to the hotel, the mundane reality of a bus ride that reminds Steve—it's not Hollywood, here. (obv this is a reference to big sports movies, which would end with the championship or whatever, but also any time i can make an MCU reference and like tap on the 4th wall, that’s fun.)

It all feels so big when you're standing in the middle of the stadium, in the middle of 70,000 fans and 4000-watt LEDs (i looked up “stadium lights” btw, which is one of those dumbass things that you feel like you have to research and then reread it a year later and ur like “oh ok lmao”), but when you drive away, when you watch the horizon and the dark night sky swallow that stadium right up, it doesn't feel as big anymore. It already feels like two lines of text on the NCAA Wikipedia page. (the best moments always go by too fast, don’t they, Steve) (luckily he’s got more best moments yet to come)

And now that his mind is reeling back to the dirt and the desert, all Steve can think about is Bucky's glassy eyes. He wracks his brain, running through their conversation over and over so he won't forget: something about hurting Steve, something about forgetting phone numbers, checking on Sam Wilson, (bucky rly cared a lot about sam, ngl. Protective Bucky Barnes made it a personal goal not to let freshman phenom Sam Wilson get hurt IN ANY WAY WHATSOEVER)

I love you.

Steve taps his foot incessantly through the drive to the hotel. (in retrospect i should have made a parallel between this bus and the high school bus hnng) The rest of the bus rocks with three different group chants and a tuneless rendition of "We Will Rock You" that the white boys must have started. (mannnnn i remember sports buses ……. I remember in middle school one of our fav bus songs was “stacy’s mom” …)

Steve texts Bucky a simple You okay?, but doesn't expect a response and doesn't get one.

When they finally reach the hotel, Steve's internal systems are going haywire. The euphoria of victory has nosedived, but he started so high in the atmosphere it's becoming hard to breath—the imbalance of oxygen—all the meters in the cockpit spin out of control—(speaking of mcu references) he just wants to know if Bucky is okay. He just wants Bucky to be okay.

So Steve's pretty much delirious when they enter the hotel, split into groups, and go their separate ways. He drifts onto an elevator with Sam and the Bradleys. When they reach their floor, Steve turns down the hall for his room on autopilot—then stops in his tracks.

There is a man in black leaning against his doorframe. The corridor is empty except for this dark motionless figure with a duffel bag strapped to his back. Steve is suddenly very conscious of his breathing.

(in early drafts of targeting, i sent bucky to the hospital at the end of the game. Not like in a Serious way, just in a precautionary way. he just hurt his head so they might as well get it checked out, right. in the early drafts, i had steve and his teammates visit bucky IN the hospital. i considered Rumlow being there, or pierce being there. I also considered Steve punching Rumlow for being gross. But yeah. Hospital. That lasted in the drafts for a long time, actually. It’s not a bad idea, but it’s logistically hard wrt getting him out of the hospital, and like, has more serious implications than necessary. I’m all about hurt/comfort but i didnt wanna beat bucky up too bad.)(and obviously the hotel room is ……. GREAT)

A voice sounds from behind Steve: "Did Eli lock himself out again?" (AGAIN!!!) (I wanna know that story lmfao)

Steve's friends all laugh. (steve does not laugh. He knows who it is already. nerd.)

"I'm right here!" Eli protests from the back of the group.

"That's not Eli," Steve whispers, pace accelerating—heart accelerating. He breaks away from his teammates and strides down the hall, like tripping, like falling, like pointing the nose of the plane straight toward the earth. Like plummeting forward and just barely catching himself with every step. (one time i had a coach describe “running” as “falling forward and catching yourself” and idk how i feel about that metaphor in practicality but it sure works right here lmao)

The dark figure looks up as Steve approaches, but doesn't move.

Steve wraps his arms around Bucky's waist and kisses him on the lips. (we all KNEW who it was right? It’s one of those surprises u know is gonna happen but you still can’t wait to see it)

Numbness starts to creep up his limbs—probably from the buckets of adrenaline careening through his bloodstream, a fire and flood (thank u @ vance joy) every fifteen minutes since the game started. But God, his heart is so big, right now, so loud and so real. If any heart could take it, it's Steve's.

What kind of kiss.

Steve has never kissed anyone like this. A direct line to all the empty spaces in his chest.

(this is the third time they’ve kissed, now. The first time being when bucky was freaking out in his hotel room a couple weeks ago, and pretended it didnt happen. The second time was in millenium park, aka steve’s christmas present to bucky lol. And of course, a lot happened between that kiss and this one. I’d like to think they both changed, as people, even.)

(have you ever been caught off guard by an incredible kiss when you were the one giving it???? Maybe that’s just me, because i’m so casual and careless at all times. But have you ever gone in for a kiss and Meant it, but still the other person doubles down and gangs up on you somehow? That’s this kiss. That’s this kiss for steve. Steve is like, “there’s nothing left to say, i just have to show him”; and bucky is like … still kind of thinking every kiss with steve could be his last. So he gives it all he’s got. I guess. Idk if i’m describing it v well but. What kind of kiss.)

All of Bucky is so strong: (OH YEAH that’s also rly important, i cannot stress how fucking Strong bucky is and how much i love him for it) (besides the fact that he’s been through so much and survived it all …. He’s still GOOD.) (STOP im gonna cry about bucky barnes for a bit) Steve can feel it under his lips and under his fingertips, the molten resilience warm and dormant under Bucky's skin. Steve presses harder and leans closer. He can't get close enough. His hands press into Bucky's spine, and he still can't get close enough. He opens his mouth and Bucky sighs and draws him in and he still can't get close enough.

One of his teammates whistles. Steve and Bucky don't let it stop them, this time. (oh don’t worry, i did not forget about the other boys, those poor poor babies. Isaiah is probably like :o and Eli is probably grinning and like smacking his brother on the arm until it bruises. Sam is prob the one who whistled.)

Steve's body systems are all rebooting. He can't feel anything that isn't in contact with Bucky—which is fine—that's perfect, he doesn't need anything else—

Then Bucky touches him, and Steve sucks in a sharp breath through his nose. (have you ever kissed someone and just forgot they had hands until they USE THEM??) (anyway) Bucky's hands come to rest on his face, leaving fingerprints on Steve's jaw, like lavender and cirrus clouds. His hands slide behind Steve's neck, and his fingers thread through his hair. He finds the dimple at the base of Steve's skull and whimpers.

Steve has no idea what his own hands are doing. (LOL!!!!!!!!!!!!) (they on bucky’s butt!!!!!!! I’m joking, they’re WHEREVER YOU WANT THEM TO BE.) He can't focus on more than one thing, and right now, that one thing is the feel of Bucky's bottom lip under his own.

He can't get close enough. He presses in for more contact, from knees to navel to sternum. He backs Bucky into the wall, and he can feel the jolt when his fingers are trapped between Bucky's jacket and the wallpaper. (a jolt!!! He prob was a little forceful …………… *eyes emoji*)

Bucky breaks the kiss and hisses and presses both hands to Steve's chest.

Horror washes over Steve. "What's wrong?!"

Bucky grimaces. "Sorry," he pants, eyes fixed on Steve's mouth.

"What—no, don't be—what's wrong?" He steps back, but keeps his hands on Bucky's waist in case he needs—anything. Support? What's wrong?

"Sorry. It's…" Bucky swallows. His eyes flicker. Steve can see the faint green of a lingering bruise near the bridge of his nose. "Dislocated shoulder." (in early drafts, this was a collapsed lung. In retrospect, that’s prob because it might have required the hospitalization. I think the shoulder injury is more … symmetrical, tho.)

Beat.

"You—you have a dislocated shoulder?"

"Wait, you what?" That would be Eli, stepping closer, eyes wide. (athletic trainer eli!)

"Well." Bucky looks down again. "It's relocated now." (thanks buck. Thank you for that elaboration.)

"When did it happen?" Steve asks.

"That—when me and Wilson went up for that deep pass. And landed on top of each other."

(“Bucky and Sam both go up for the ball; it twirls off their fingertips; they tangle in mid-air, and they both go down hard. Steve jogs toward them, heartstrings strumming dominant chords in his bloodstream.

Sam Wilson gets up first, moving stiffly, both hands on his lower back. When Steve offers him a hand, he waves it off even while he winces. Steve glances downfield. Bucky's teammates are helping him to his feet and stuffing his shoulder pad back into his uniform.”)

Steve wracks his brain. "On the last play?"

"No," Bucky says. His eyes dart between Steve and each of his teammates. "Before. We were winning. It was a go route."

It's all kind of a blur in Steve's memory: images of Sam Wilson in deep coverage, Bucky lining up as a safety, zone reads, go routes, post routes, slant routes. He can remember Sam tumbling down on the sidelines, and something occurs to him: "Was it the fight?"

"No," Bucky answers, and Sam speaks at the same time: (<3)

"No," Sam says, staring at Bucky, a nauseated expression curling his lip. (because that play was … A LONG time ago) "No, it was in the third quarter. Right after halftime," he clarifies, and everyone knows he is right.

Steve begins to feel a strange, localized ache in the hinge of his jaw. "You played the whole second half with a dislocated shoulder?"

Bucky shrugs. And then winces. (he’s sO CUTE. and dumb. BUT CUTE.)

"Holy shit," Isaiah breathes.

"I mean, we popped it back in, first," Bucky backtracks.

"Still," Eli hisses, then leaps into action. "No wonder it hurts—Steve Rogers and the kiss of death, over here." (tbh i thought of this joke before i even decided on an injury lmfao.)(i am not funny.)

Steve opens his mouth to protest, but Eli talks over him. "Come on, come inside, I have a couple ice packs in the freezer." (ELI IS SUCH A DAD™!!!!!) Eli fumbles with the key-card and shepherds Bucky into their room. Once they're inside, he relieves him of his duffel bag—working carefully around his left shoulder—and shoves it at Sam without looking, then guides Bucky onto the end of a bed. Once he is settled, Eli turns to rummage through their mini-fridge. "Steve, grab me one of our hand-towels, yeah?" he orders.

Steve does so. When he returns from the bathroom, he stops in his tracks. Bucky is perched on the edge of Steve's bed, a little wide-eyed, but calm. Eli hovers over him, inspecting Bucky's shoulder. Sam sneaks the duffel (i only included this fucking duffel bag so bucky could sneak his Secret Documents into Steve’s room lmfao)(and so Sam could make the “overnight bag” joke tbh.) next to the TV, then catches Steve's eye and shakes his head, clearly trying not to smile.

The entire tableau punches all the air out of Steve's lungs. (same) (obv i really wanted steve’s friends to accept bucky, and i’m nothing if not Dramatic. so. Here we are)

Steve eases onto the corner of the empty bed. Eli doesn't even acknowledge him, his focus trained on Bucky. "They check you out?" he asks as he prods the left side of Bucky's back with well-trained fingers.

Bucky nods. He gazes at Eli the way you might gaze at someone who speaks to you in a different language, but nevertheless does so very earnestly. (i mean it’s safe to say bucky NEVER expected a reaction like this, not only because his own coaches/staff aren’t this nice, but also bc like, these guys are his rivals, lmao) (and he also is prob thinking about what a dick he was to Steve a week ago)

Eli tugs at the collar of Bucky's windbreaker and asks if he can remove it. Bucky lets him help without speaking and without moving his left arm much. Once the jacket is gone, Eli has better access to Bucky's torso.

"Hospital?" Eli asks.

Bucky shakes his head. (LOL)

"Broken ribs, too?"

Bucky nods. (ok ok ok . i worked very hard not to let eli fall into a trope where he just existed to “take care of bucky”. Because i wanted him to rly be the character who cared about sports medicine and … about PEOPLE. So i established it earlier, with steve, with sam, with his major, with his brother, with his kids, everything. And he really knows what he’s DOING. he sat down with bucky for like a single minute, and could tell he had loose tissue and broken ribs around the relocated shoulder. And he’s made something of himself, here, of caring about people. He’s cared about his brother for years, when no one else cared, and now he’s gonna make a living taking care of hurt athletes. I also think it … kind of fits with comics!eli, who was such a sweet bean and just wanted to be a good superhero and live up to his grandpa. I rly rly rly absurdly love eli bradley, guys.) (also contrast him with steve, who wants to take care of people but has no idea what he’s doing; isaiah, who has a good heart but isn’t good at showing it; and sam, a good friend who’s a big goof.)

"Did they scan you?" Eli goes on, and doesn't wait for an answer. "There's loose tissue, I think. Can you lift your arm?"

"Not really," Bucky says, and proceeds to lift his arm (LMAO YOU ASS). He almost makes a ninety-degree angle.

"I mean, I haven't seen the scans or nothing," Eli says, and sounds genuinely sorry for it, "But I think there's some kind of tissue damage. Maybe not torn, but ... Can't believe they didn't take you to the hospital."

"We have doctors," Bucky says dumbly.

Eli dismisses that with a wave. "Did they give you anything?"

Bucky blinks.

Eli beckons for the towel, which Steve hands over. "Any drugs?" Eli clarifies.

Bucky huffs, a small sour sound that could be laughter. "You'll have to be more specific."

Steve, Sam, Isaiah, and Eli all stare at Bucky.

Steve thinks back to the NAC Championship Game. "Pump me with enough drugs, and even I can't tell I'm injured." It could mean so many things. Even at American State, players take shots to stave off the pain long enough for a football game. Sam Wilson comes to mind, and his small doses of painkillers and muscle relaxants to alleviate the back spasms. (if you’re into that kind of thing, meaning semi-unpleasant-medical-commentary, look up “toradol shots” and “football” and some articles are more biased than others but yeah, it’s sketchy either way.)

But Bucky sounds so angry. It's the tone of voice that draws Steve's imagination to dark places.

Eli is the first to recover. He holds up the ice pack, now wrapped in a towel. "I mean anti-inflammatories," Eli explains, "or something to knock you out overnight."

Bucky accepts the ice pack. He turns it over between his hands. He looks thoughtful. He picks at a stray thread on the towel. He doesn't speak.

Sensing the toxic discomfort in the room, Steve is about to step in when Isaiah clears his throat.

"So his arm's not gonna fall off or nothing?"

Eli blinks, then ducks his head. "I mean, he said it hurt," he says sheepishly.

"You ain't have to assault him and force him to strip," Isaiah points out. (isaiah is really a big sweetheart, he just doesn’t express himself well lol.)

"I don't mind," Bucky mumbles.

Sam interrupts, then. "So what do we call you?" (and sam is …… sam.)

Bucky and Steve both stare at him, mouths open.

"You know," Sam explains. "Do you go by … James? Or Barnes? Can I call you Bucky, or is that like a pet name? 'Property of Steve Rogers' or whatever?" Steve blushes. "Or do you prefer the Winter Soldier?"

"Anything but that."

"Bucky Bear?"

Bucky snorts. "Nice ring to it."

"But really," Sam says, smiling now. "I'm gonna hack into Steve's phone and steal your number so I can send you a ton of pictures of me with the trophy. (this is true, and definitely definitely happens.) (except the part where sam hacks into steves phone. He just gets buckys number. Hes not shy, pls.) So. What name do I save you under?"

"... Bucky's fine," he replies with a bemused half-smile.

Steve gazes at him. There is a perfect ache in his chest, like too much color bursting inside and not enough space.

"… out of it. Earth to Steve Rogers." (ISAIAH!!!!)

He snaps back to the present when he hears Isaiah speaking. "I'm—what?"

Sam cackles, which Steve thinks is pretty unfair, since it's his fault Bucky just knocked all the air out of Steve's lungs.

"Maybe we should go," Eli says gently.

"Hell yeah it's time to go," Sam says, rubbing his hands together. "We're going out, right?" He grins at Steve. (sam …… is too young to legally drink. I’m crying. i mean not that it’s hard for young people to get alcohol but he’s literally 19 and asking to go out. He’s so full of life and he’s so RIDICULOUS!!!!!!!!!)

Everyone in the room stares at him, shifting awkwardly.

"I don't think they're coming," Eli says.

Isaiah takes Sam by the elbow and steers him toward the door. "We can still go out."

"Wait." Sam plants his feet. "Steve, you …" (like sam’s not CLUELESS here, he just saw them make out for crying out loud. He’s just got so much energy and they just won a BIG GAME okay, it just takes him an extra second to process things. Which, i mean, is relatable.) He looks at Steve, then—looks at him—and seems to see something new; then he looks at Bucky, then Steve again, back and forth. "Oh."

"Sam—" Steve tries, but Sam interjects.

"Holy—okay, okay, I mean, he did bring an overnight bag and shit," Sam says, gesturing towards Bucky's duffel.

Bucky's face turns an impressive shade of crimson. "What." (he most certainly did not. Well, staying-overnight wasn’t the primary function of the duffel bag. He was maybe hopeful. maybe.)

"Sam—"

"I think you just took their relationship to the next level," Eli cuts in with a sly look.

Sam, on the other hand, has gone from mortified to elated in the span of about four seconds. "What's in the bag, Soldier?"

Bucky levels him with a scowl to match the nickname. "Toothbrush and a box of condoms." (LIIIIIES. There’s only like 3 condoms. And they’ve been in there for months. but still.)

Beat.

Sam is the first to laugh; Steve joins in, but it's weak because he's reeling with embarrassment. And distantly, definitely turned on.

"Right. We're leaving," Isaiah says pointedly. (poor frikin isaiah puts up with SO MUCH!!!!! His roommates are so ridiculous and horny and he never asked for this except he totally moved in with them and knew full well what he was getting into and is maybe into it, but anyway, anyway.) (housewarming didn’t come out of the blue that’s all i’m saYINg.) (isaiah’s BLUSHING.) Sam Wilson is laughing too hard to protest.

After a small commotion ("There's Advil in my bag!" Eli says, just as Sam calls, "Always use protection!"), and the hotel door latches with a heavy bang. Steve can still hear his teammates in the hallway, but they are muffled and unintelligible, and they fade away fast, leaving Steve alone with Bucky.

Neither of them speaks right away. Bucky is still sitting quietly on the end of Steve's bed, staring, unfocused, into the middle distance. Steve takes the opportunity to look at him. Properly, and all, without sticking his tongue down his throat or bashing his injured shoulder into a wall.

(fun fact: the following transition is a fucking bitch. I don’t think it’s great but i’m an awkward loser, so i was like ok, how do i get them to say i love you and fuck already? Like in a Realistic Fashion. Realistic for dumb jocks.) (rolls eyes forever)

Bucky is in black sweatpants and black Nikes with red soles. The back of his white T-shirt has a list of dates—probably a catalogue of Southeast State National Championships—while the front bears the Southeast logo: a red elk skull with wicked hooked antlers. (check out the “targeting art” tag, a couple people have drawn this and i love them for it) (what else would make a “tundra” logo”...? idk) His face looks better than it did a week ago. Just a little swollen. Steve probably wouldn't even notice if he didn't know to look. There's a string of bruises on Bucky's arm and his knuckles are tore up and there's still dirt clinging to his nails, but all that's just standard football wear-and-tear. He's got a couple days' worth of stubble, and there's a little crescent patch on his jaw where nothing grows; a small white scar from God knows where, God knows when. His lips are parted. Steve wants to kiss him again. But between the corridor and now, this moment with silence and an ice pack wrapped in a crisp white towel, it doesn't seem so easy, anymore.

"You doing okay?" Steve asks.

Bucky's eyes snap back to life and he looks at Steve. (bucky is so spacy lmao awww) (honestly bucky is a lot like me. I think of all the characters in this story, he’s the most like me.) "Yeah." Just yeah.

"You want to use that ice pack, or stick it back in the freezer?"

Bucky looks down at the bundle in his lap, like he forgot it was there. His chest rises and falls.

"Here," Steve says, and stands up slowly so he can slide onto the bed next to Bucky's bad shoulder. He gently takes the ice pack and folds it against his arm, the outside of the ball-and-socket joint, right along the seam of his sleeve. "Good?"

"I dunno," Bucky croaks. "You don't have to—I should probably go." (like seriously, second guessing wild, impulsive decisions? Assuming people don’t care as much as you care? That’s just relatable, man.)

A knot twists in Steve's stomach. He presses into the ice pack a little harder—not too hard—just enough to feel present.

"Why did you come, anyway?" Steve asks.

Bucky's eyes track to his duffel bag, (he came because he wanted to bring steve those documents that incriminate Pierce. He came because he wanted someone to validate him. To validate how bad he felt. To validate the abuse he’s gone through. To tell him he’s not imagining things. He came because he likes steve and he misses him. He came because his sex drive is wild. He came because if he stayed in his hotel room, he would lose his mind.) then back to Steve. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut. "I'm sorry I hit you," he mumbles. (and he came to say that, too. he’s been feeling bad about that for a long time.)

Oh.

How ridiculous, Steve thinks. What a small, silly thing, now. He's sitting here with an ice pack to Bucky's mangled shoulder, counting the bruises up Bucky's arms and his face, and that's just the ones Steve can see. He's sitting here in good health and a golden haze of victory, and Bucky is apologizing to him. How absurd. "Oh—Buck, don't worry about that."

"No, look, I'm obviously … messed up and all," Bucky launches into a stammering speech. "I'm sorry I hit you, and yelled at you, and … kissed you. (sorry about the mixed messages, to be specific) I guess. I'm—I just—I want you to know I didn't mean all those shitty things I said. And the game today, I didn't want to hurt anyone. I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm fine," Steve assures him. "I promise."

"Right." Bucky cracks his knuckles. He doesn't look convinced. "Anyway. I've been fucking with you for weeks now, (by “fucking with you” he means stringing steve along and then pushing him away. Toying with him. Which is how it looks, from certain points of view. It’s not how steve felt, but it certainly could be read that way.) so it's cool if you don't believe a word I say." (bucky was 100% lying in chapter 23 when he told steve “I was messing with your head” [with regards to kissing steve]. At the time, he was in a really dark, messed up place, and he was really angry with steve, and thought they would both be better off apart. They couldn’t mess each other up anymore if they were apart.)

Steve gapes at him. "Buck … You were mad. You had a right to be mad." (for the record, i PERSONALLY don’t condone bucky punching steve. But steve is more forgiving than i am, and more deeply [and unhealthily] attached to bucky)

The look in Bucky's eyes is so specific. Such a localized pain. From a distance he seems hard, and strong, towering marble, but if you look from the right angle you can see the anguish buried in the rock. The fear and sorrow in David's eyes, despite the calm repose of his limbs. (as in michelangelo’s david. I kind of get michelangelo vibes whenever i watch TWS, the scene with bucky in the bank vault.) (but i knew him.) (from the right angle, David looks very scared. And it’s the same with bucky, i feel.)

"I'm real fucked up, Steve." He sighs quietly. "I should go."

Bucky lowers his shoulder to wriggle out from under the ice pack. Steve lets it fall to the bed—instead, he grabs Bucky's knee.

"Don't go."

"I shouldn't have come. Steve ... I don't want to keep hurting you."

Steve has never been able to deny Bucky anything, but this—he read this wrong, before. (when he just let bucky go after hitting Steve) Bucky begged Steve to leave him alone, and Steve has let him go too many times. He'd thought he'd been doing what was best for Bucky. All this time, Bucky thought he was doing what was best for Steve. (isn’t that kind of the point. Of the story. Of them.)

"You won't hurt me," Steve promises. "You haven't hurt me. None of that was your fault."

"I hit you."

"You think I can't take one lousy punch?"

Bucky snorts; he doesn't smile, not quite, but he looks amused, and Steve counts it as a win. "Wasn't lousy. (BUCKY IS BIG) I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for. You were hurting too." He pauses there, feeling sober again, and he braces himself. "Bucky, can I ask you something?"

"What."

"Who gave you the black eye?"

He scoffs. "You were on the field. You saw. Wasn't it Creed's elbow?"

"Bucky," Steve scolds him gently. "I mean last week."

He ducks his head and doesn't answer.

"At my house," Steve prods. "Bucky?"

"It's not a big deal."

"Was it Rumlow?"

Bucky laughs, low and bitter.

"It was, wasn't it?" (steve has probably been thinking this ever since he saw it, considering he also overheard rumlow being an ass in bucky’s hotel room a few weeks ago)

"No. It … wasn't Rumlow."

Steve's not sure he believes him, (did you guys believe him?) but doesn't press the issue. He owes Bucky a little privacy. Just asking is what matters, for now.

Bucky looks up at him through long, long lashes; the same way he has always looked at Steve, (LIKE ON THEIR BUS IN HIGH SCHOOL) a bright blue, the hottest part of a flame.

"Quite a pair, aren't we?" Steve says through a watery smile.

"What's that mean."

(means we’re both selfless shits and we both know it. means no matter how bad we’re hurt, we both still want to take care of other people first.)

"Means I'm here for you, Buck," he says, soft and insistent. "I'm not going anywhere."

Bucky shakes his head. There might be a smile leaking through his granite mask.

Now or never.

"About what you said," Steve says carefully. He squeezes Bucky's knee and rubs small circles into his thigh. "You know, after the game?"

Bucky cringes. "Oh, god. I'm sorry about that too." (NOOOOOO--)

"Don't be sorry," Steve whispers—begs, even. Please don't be sorry. Not for that.

"I shouldn't have said anything," Bucky says. The muscle of his thigh twitches under Steve's grip. "I was caught up in the moment, you know, and it just came out, and it was totally wrong-place-wrong-time, I'm sorry."

"Did you mean it?" Steve breathes, almost inaudible, because he can feel the cracks under the surface.

Bucky covers his face with both hands. "It's—yeah, Steve, yeah I meant it. I just … shouldn't." (FUCK SPORTS AND TOXIC MASCULINITY AND HOMOPHOBIA AND FUCK IT ALL and give bucky a hug 2kforever.)

"Oh, Bucky."

When he looks at Steve again, his eyes are red. "You don't have to say it back."

"Are you kidding me?"

Bucky blinks. "Um."

"Listen to me, Buck." Steve sinks to his knees between Bucky's feet and looks up at him. It's dizzying. It makes his head ache just to think of it: all the years, all the football games, all the doodles passed back and forth in class, all the times Bucky treated Steve's injuries with ice and stupid jokes. He reaches up to take Bucky's face in both hands. "Listen to me," Steve says again. "For as long as I can remember, every single day of my life, you were the most important thing in it. The best thing. Bucky, I was in love with you before I even knew what that meant."

"Steve—"

"And then you were gone. Just gone, and I felt so … much. There was so much, and I didn't know where to put it all." Bucky is crying openly, now, his nose red and his eyes shining. "God, I don't want to feel that way ever again," Steve whispers. "So yeah, I do have to say it back." He smooths the tears from Bucky's cheeks. "I love you," he says. He says it out loud for the first time in his life as he looks into Bucky's eyes, the eyes he has known and for years, for decades, for centuries upon centuries. "I love you, Bucky."

(i practiced that love confession during my Long Commute for months before i ever published it.) (such a balancing act, making it sound like something a person would say, and also make it very very meaningful. And like ….. Adequate for these 2.)

Bucky's lips blossom for him, parting like the gentle pink petals of morning. At first, all that escapes is a sob. He blinks, hard, and tries again:

"You're a punk." (bucky’s response was not a balancing act and did not take nearly as much effort, it’s the most in-character thing i’ve ever written lmfao)

Steve grins. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You are such a punk."

There is water gathering in the creases of Steve's palms. "Is this okay?" he asks, wiping away more tears.

"This is the worst." Bucky sucks in a breath, and then grabs both of Steve's wrists and squeezes. "Yeah it's okay."

"Okay," Steve says. He feels his own throat growing hot. They're both going to end up crying, probably. He gazes at Bucky's lips, the chapped creases and the swollen spot where he always bites down on it. Steve smiles. "I'm kind of afraid to kiss you again."

"Afraid."

"Well, yeah, Buck, it always seems to go wrong. (I MEAN HE’S GOT A POINT!) I try to break your arm, or you end up puking everywhere—" (a stranger whistles at us in millenium park--)

"Shut the fuck up," Bucky demands, and pulls Steve in for a kiss.

It is stiff at first—more overwhelmed than anything—their noses and their lips crushed together because they need it so bad. Because if they didn't kiss right now they would probably both erupt into color and flame and leave a crater behind in the Arizona desert. After a moment of desperate contact, after the reassurance that this is real, this whole night has been real, Steve relaxes. He strokes Bucky's jaw and parts his lips. (i wrote this sex scene between a dress rehearsal and a concert. A pretty major gig actually with a big symphony in a decent-sized city. I don’t LIVE in that city, so i had nothing to do between the rehearsal and the show, so i sat in a philly cheesesteak bar and wrote smut.) (i was also very anxious about the gig at the time.)

Bucky's hands are restless. They flutter like sparrows from Steve's wrists to his face and his elbows and finally, the fabric of his shirt, where they cling tight and pull him closer. He drifts back, stretches onto the mattress and pulls Steve on top of him. Not that it takes much coaxing. Steve goes hungry and willing. He wraps an arm around Bucky's waist and helps him shift farther onto the bed. Steve nudges a knee between Bucky's thighs, and that doesn't take much, either; Bucky's legs spread easily, (*eyes emoji*) and draw Steve in, and how absurd is this, now. It's phenomenal, the goosebumps that break out at the base of his spine and sweep straight to his skull.

Bucky kisses like an ocean. Writhing and fluid and breathless, pulse as natural and magnetic as the tide. He wraps Steve in white foam and surges against him. (this metaphor, for example, gives me vivid deja vu for that restaurant where i wrote it.)

Steve's left arm is trapped between Bucky and the mattress. With his right, he gropes for Bucky's hand and tangles their fingers together. Bucky's heel hooks behind his knee and he smiles, but doesn't break the kiss.

Steve grinds against Bucky's hip bone. That earns him a delicious groan.

Bucky gasps softly as he breaks the kiss. "I should probably be careful, you know," he whispers.

"You—? Oh," Steve says, scrambling up onto his elbows. "Sorry! Are you okay? Does this hurt?"

"No, not really," Bucky says, adjusting his left arm. (a resounding “yes” if i ever heard one) (he’s fine tho, he’s fine. just. you know.)

Steve can't imagine—just—at all. He just can't imagine. He can't picture hurting until it doesn't matter anymore. He wants to fix it so much. He wants to take away all of Bucky's hurt. "Is—? We can take it slow, if you want. I'm sorry. Is this—"

"Steve." Bucky spreads his fingers through Steve's hair and smiles. "I said careful, not abstinent." (if you could not tell after reading targeting, i really wanted to attack the stereotype where bucky is a wilting flower who needs to be coddled by Everyone. including but not limited to their Bedroom Activities)

He leans up to plant a soft kiss on Steve's chin.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"I'm not trying to pressure you though," Steve shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. (but also, i mean, steve is very very very sweet and i love that about him. It’s not offensive. it’s seriously fucking sweet.) "We can stop if you want."

"Steve Rogers, so help me, if you fucking stop now, you'll—I'll—I will … I'll do something. I can't think. But I'll do something. And you won't like it." (tbh i couldn’t think of something clever to say, and you know what? that seemed like the most accurate depiction of bucky’s state of mind)

Steve couldn't argue if he wanted. "Oh yeah?"

"Fuck."

"You don't want me to stop?"

"I don't want you to stop."

(at this point, i was picturing like, bucky hasn’t actually Had Sex in awhile. Like a year, even. he’s probably made out with someone in the dark corner of a bar or maybe fooled around in a bathroom at a frat party. which, getting a half-assed hand job 2-3 times a year is nice but it’s not exactly intimate. actually, it’s not even nice. anyway. bucky might be .. even more sensitive than usual. Especially since it’s….. steve.)

Steve leans in for a kiss again, a rich slide of lips against teeth. He tugs gently at the hem of Bucky's shirt and drags his fingernails across the ridges of his stomach.

The noise Bucky makes is sunset and surf and sin. Steve kisses that sound. He slides his left hand out from under Bucky's back and into the front of his pants. (STEEEEEEVE!!!!!!! GET IT STEVE!) That's a good reaction, too: Bucky's hips jump, as if jolted by an electric current.

Steve wants to know every single one of Bucky's reactions, wants to learn every perfect way to make Bucky squirm. He fumbles with Bucky's waistband, and that is fingernails against Steve's scalp; he wraps a hand around Bucky's dick, and that is a hiss of air through teeth; he strokes once, up and down, and that is a low whine in Bucky's throat. He tightens his hold, and that is Bucky's hand slipping into Steve's pants, grasping him and caressing him in return, which—damn, you know. (YEAH DAMN!!!)

Steve trails kisses along Bucky's jaw until he finds the soft spot under his ear. Bucky's pulse speeds up, his breath speeds up, and his hand speeds up.

"Oh, God, Bucky," Steve groans.

That's all it takes. Bucky arches his back, spilling over Steve's fist, gasping for air. (bucky came SO fast in this scene lmfao i’m dyin. I still am not sure if it’s like …. TOO fast. Like unrealistically fast. Or … unkind of me. But i just. he hasn’t done this in awhile, he’s with STEVE, steve just confessed his LOVE, all the game day adrenaline--yeah i mean, at the end of the day? same, bucky. same.)

As Bucky spirals back to earth, his grip on Steve's cock tightens and his pace quickens. Steve grinds down into his hand, desperate and fevered, and it doesn't take long for him to come, too. (i mean i guess it’s been a few months for steve too……...lmao ….)

And that—God Almighty—that doesn't feel like a small thing. That feels like a great deal more than two lines of text on a Wikipedia page. (SWEETHEARTS!!!!) (they’re so corny. STEVE is so corny.)

Steve tries to catch his breath, panting hard against the hollow of Bucky's shoulder, leaving a warm, damp patch in the fabric of his shirt. Bucky twitches under him. Static currents and shallow breath. The dappled violets and whites and yellows of the sea at sunset.

Steve is careful not to crush Bucky underneath him. Even in the dense fog of sex and happiness, he is so, so conscious of Bucky's hurts. If anything, Bucky is more delicate, this way; supine and pale and fragile under the tips of Steve's fingers.

Steve traces the lines of Bucky's abs—Jesus—he would count them if he could see straight. He wipes his hand on Bucky's hip bone and asks, "You want to clean up, or anything? You're welcome to use the bathroom."

"You hinting?"

"Am I—? No, it—I just—"

Bucky is grinning, though. (if you know me at all, you know i can’t write a whole sex scene of like, ocean tides and starlight and fragile hearts or whatever. There’s gonna be a joke about a condom or like, the realistically gross follow-up. I AM WHO I AM.) His stomach shakes with laughter, and Steve gapes at him—miles of smooth skin, threads of cum shining on his stomach. It's terrific and terrifying and it's obscene. (terrific AND terrifying!!! Steve, sweetheart!!!) Steve can't even think in words.

Bucky pokes him, hard, right near the collarbone. "You want me to clean up?"

"… I don't ever want you to leave this bed again," Steve breathes. (STEVE, on the other hand, is a much bigger sap than me.)

Bucky just laughs some more.

"What are you giggling at?"

"I ain't giggling." (oh texas boy)

"Oh yeah?"

"I don't giggle."

"What do you call it?" Steve says, running a fingertip from Bucky's sternum to his bellybutton, a slow, subtle trail.

Bucky covers his eyes so all Steve can see is his smile and the way his throat bobs when he swallows.

He can't get enough. He drinks Bucky in like a drug, every detail, every little meaningless deed. The way one side of his smile is higher than the other; the fine hair on his arms; the mess on his stomach, drying and tacky and glistening in the lines that define his abs; the way his knee sways back and forth; the T-shirt bunched up under his armpits.

"I don't giggle," Bucky repeats. Then he uncovers one eye to look at Steve. The tip of his tongue peeks between his teeth. Steve wants to kiss it. He wants to kiss it all.

"Okay," he whispers. "You don't giggle." He kisses Bucky's elbow, which is the nearest thing within reach.

It must tickle, because a noise escapes Bucky's lips. A noise that is absolutely a giggle. (i don’t think he’s laughing because he’s ticklish, at least not 100%. ;) ) "Shut up," he says before Steve can even open his mouth.

"Not a word."

#dvd commentary #targeting stuff #anon #my fic #pay no attention to the writer behind the curtain

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