this is all, at the core, @lake-shark ‘s fault and all criticism should be directed at her
we were doing our catws10 rewatch and i said that in the highway scene, I had heard that sebastian’s pronunciation of russian is quite bad and instead of saying “i have her, find him”, he’s saying something about a brick. i am trying to be humorous.
misha shoots back “yeah almost like the language got brute-forced into his head.”
i don’t know why it never occurred to me how stressful bucky learning russian probably was, probably because he already speaks it in the comics, but now i’m running through everything regarding language and it’s through a whole new filter. holy shit. he’s got to learn it from torturers and abusers.
first, how fucking isolating. how embarrassing and degrading in a real way. people talk to him like he’s stupid. he doesn’t fully understand why he has this other language in his head that he wants to use, but is almost certainly not allowed to. his internal language is severed from his external language. the words he does say feel unwieldy in his mouth and harsh to his own ears. he can’t practice it, and no one is gonna sit down and teach him.
second, to quote dialect quoting james baldwin, “people evolve a language in order to describe and thus control their circumstances, in order to not be submerged by a reality they cannot articulate”. if you don’t have the right language, you cannot describe what is happening to you. you can’t call for help. you can’t beg for mercy. you don’t have the words to picture your future as different from your present.
third, no wonder bucky takes to pierce better than karpov. no wonder karpov needed specific words and pierce has many to control him. much has been said about how pierce tries to manipulate bucky with his words, like what weak points he presses on to try to keep bucky on track, how he uses language as weapon, and to top it all off, pierce literally speaks his language.
i am chewing on glass.
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If I Should Stay
WARNING to all underage peeps: DNI with this part! It is NOT essential to the story and you WILL NOT miss anything!
For those of you who do read: please be nice!! This is my first (published) attempt at smut and any mean comments WILL be deleted 😚
Part 1 | . . . | Part 45 | Part 46 | Part 47
Steve leads Eddie down the hall to a guest bedroom, then stops in front of the door. “If… I don’t want you here because it looks like I need it. If you’d rather-”
“Hey,” Eddie interrupts softly, grabbing his other hand, “I want to be here. Okay? I want to be here with you. Don’t try and let me out of it now that I know what I want.”
Steve looks at him, wide-eyed. “What do you want?”
Eddie drops his hands to cup his cheeks. “Maybe this’ll explain,” he murmurs, before pulling Steve into a soft, sweet kiss.
Steve melts into it, letting his eyes shut as his hands find purchase on Eddie’s hips, pulling him closer to wrap his arms all the way around Eddie’s waist in a hug.
After a minute Eddie pulls back, just enough so they can look at each other, and Steve smiles when he opens his eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “So let’s go to bed, okay? We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
Once they’re settled under the covers, facing each other, Steve sighs. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
Eddie hums. “Promise me something?”
“What?”
“You’re not gonna jump between me and a bullet.”
Steve widens his eyes. “Eddie-”
“No. Stevie, I’m serious. I know why you came back in time, okay? And I know you’re hoping to save me this time around, but I won’t let it be at your expense.” His eyes are shiny. “Okay? I need you to promise me that you’ll make it out, too.”
Steve looks at him, then. Looks at his eyes, one blink away from tears, yet sure in what he’s saying. The slight scrunch of his nose. The barely-there tremble in his lips. His uneven breathing. “Okay,” he says, and surges forward, connecting their lips again.
Eddie hums against his mouth, and he crowds forward, pushing their bodies flush together. “Is-” he pulls away to pant. “Is this okay?”
“Jesus, Steve,” Eddie groans, gripping his hips. “Is this okay, he says, like I haven’t been dreaming of it since I first saw you.” He rolls his hips up and they both hiss at the friction. “Are you- the scratches, it’s not- we’re not-”
“You’re fine,” Steve promises him. “More than fine, Eddie, c’mon, please-”
“Yeah, okay,” he breathes, rolling them over so he’s on top. “This okay?”
“Jesus,” Steve chuckles, “y’gotta stop asking and just start doing, man, or d’you want me to be the first person to ever die of blue balls?”
“Hey,” Eddie mutters, pressing his hips down, “patience is a virtue or whatever the fuck.”
“Fuck your virtues,” Steve says nonsensically, which causes Eddie to freeze and stare at him with narrowed eyes.
Finally, he responds with a shit-eating grin. “Actually, I’d rather fuck your virtues.”
“Shut the actual fuck up,” Steve mutters, gasping when Eddie thrusts particularly hard. “Oh, Jesus, fuck, Eddie, please-”
“Yeah? Feel good?”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees, letting his eyes flutter shut when Eddie ducks his head to mouth down his neck. “Nothing that shows,” he murmurs, even as he tilts his head to allow Eddie better access.
“Y’want?” Eddie asks, not disconnecting from Steve’s collarbone.
“Yeah,” Steve breathes, rolling his hips up just as Eddie rolls his down. He chokes on an inhale. “Eddie-”
“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, sucking a mark into his shoulder. “What do you want?”
“Just—oh, Jesus—your hand, Eds, c’mon, please, please-”
“I’ve got you,” Eddie murmurs, “I’ve got you.” He works his hand down between their bodies until it reaches the elastic of Steve’s sleep shorts. “Need your help here,” he murmurs, tugging in example.
Steve grunts and lifts his hips just long enough to get his shorts down. “You too,” he murmurs, kissing across Eddie’s chest, nipping at his collarbone.
Eddie groans, throwing his head back. “‘M not gonna last,” he manages.
“God,” Steve laughs breathily, “Me neither, c’mon, get your hand-”
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, placing his palm under Steve’s chin. “‘S too dry,” he whispers. “Spit?”
“Jesus fuck,” Steve mutters, rolling his hips up, searching for friction. He gathers enough saliva to let it pool over his tongue, onto Eddie’s hand, before he brings it down and around both of their cocks.
The first slide up is heaven.
The second is fire, coursing through his veins, burning him up until all he can feel is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.
He twists his wrist at the end, flicking his thumb over the head of Steve’s cock, and Steve thinks he sees the face of God.
Suddenly the fire is back, all-consuming, burning everything in its wake, and Steve chokes on an inhale. “Gon’- gonna, Eddie, gonna come,” he whispers, dragging his fingers down Eddie’s back, trying to find purchase before he shakes apart.
Eddie lets out a sharp breath. “Me too,” he says, and then they’re not saying anything as their lips meet.
It’s not a kiss; it’s too hot and wet and dirty for that. It’s nothing more than them panting into the other’s mouth, sharing breath, reassuring the other that they’re still there, that they’re not moving away.
The fire burns brighter, the flames lick higher, and suddenly there’s a supernova inside Steve, burning brighter and hotter and brighter until it explodes and everything fades to black.
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