#also i had to google steves room for reference and why is he SO SHIT at decorating his room is so fuckin ugly

[realkilljoyhoursnow]

Lazy summer mornings (Imagine he's saying something charming)

[doubleshotofsomething]

Needy

[This is my submission for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​ ‘s Little Darlin’s Mystery AU challenge. This is a three part soulmate au inspired by the song “Needy” by Ariana Grande, the prologue and epilogue do not count as part one/three.]

The person you’re supposed to be with, isn’t always the one you’re meant to be with.

Summary: You can’t fight fate and expect the battle to be fair.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Wanda x Bucky

Warnings: anst (ANGST), abuse (im so sorry), panic attack mentions, mental disorder references, attempted murder (for like 5 seconds tho), absolutely no fluff (if it looks like fluff then it’s a lie). Please be warned, im bad at warnings but this may be a triggering chapter so proceed with caution.

Prompts: soulmate au. song prompt

---

Prologue Part One Part Two

---

 Part Three: [ How you even think it got this far?]

"What-- the fuck did you do?"

You blink at him, eyes wide with anticipation as you watch him assess the situation.

The party was still going on somewhere in the tower. It was fun, for the first hour. Then it got boring, so you found Sam, a bottle of whiskey, and ditched to the residential floor.

Sam is next to you, expression matching yours as you both feign innocence – you more than him.

"This is—" Nat pauses, walking further into the room and stopping just a few feet to your right. "—this is actually cute."

"Thank you," the words slip out of your mouth far too quick for your control. Your eyes widen at your admission and you squeak as Sam jabs at your side with his elbow. "ouw!"

You glare at him and he glares back, head nodding to a slowly angering Bucky.

"You—" Bucky grits his teeth, picking up one of the swans you had made with the dress, "—you ruined it."

"We improved it." Sam chimes in, earning a pitiful elbow from you.

The swans were terrible. The internet wasn't as helpful as you had thought it would be and making a swan out of cloth was surprisingly harder than you thought it be too. Especially when you do it after Sam found Thor's secret stash of Asgardian mead.

"Twas actually harder than you'd think," You find yourself adding, "google isn't that user friendly."

"—and the instructions were in hieroglyphs." Sam nods, facing scrunching up in confusion and then he turns to look at you. "You speak hieroglyphs?"

You shake your head at that. "I think it was Korean—"

"—it couldn't have been."

"How would you know? You don't even speak it hieroglyphs—"

"Widow probably speaks it—"

"She could have translationed it for us! Why didn't we think of that!"

Nat blinks at you both, eyebrows furrowing as her eyes land on a flask next to one of the swans. "Oh."

Bucky is shaking, the sound of metal plates shifting echoes in the room as his eyes land on the beads scattered on the table. He looks back at the remnants of the dress in his hands, and he can't find it in himself to calm down. Not when he knows what this dress means, not when you know what it means to him.

"Steve made us do it." You say, smiling innocently at him.

Sam shrugs. "Yeah, definitely."

"It was a pretty shit dress—" Nat adds, nodding her head as she picks up a swan. "This is justice."

"Also, it's bad luck to see the—" You pause, hiccup, and frown as the word escapes you, "—female groom?"

You look to Sam for assistance and pout, he shrugs. "Don't look at me, I wanted to make ducks."

"Yeah, but ducks are difficult to make—" You pause, "—my battery is still at 40%, I know where the suits are."

He grins, wide and devilishly. "I'll look for the other flasks."

 You don't get to make ducks or get the suits. You end up hanging over Bucky's left shoulder as he barrels his way down to the parking lot, stomach churning from your position and completely uncomfortable.

"At least let Steve mandle me, he’s nicer." you try to push yourself up, hands pressing into his back as you try to find some comfort.

Steve chuckles as he watches you pout from in front of him. In his hands are the keys to Sam's car and your purse, along with your coat and gloves.

"Manhandle is the word you're looking for, doll." Steve says, unlocking the car and opening the back door.

Bucky places you inside, surprisingly gentle, as compared to his brutish behaviour, and practically growls at you when you try to wiggle away from him.

"Sit. Still." His words come out through gritted teeth as he clips your seatbelt in place. "Don't even think about it."

You move your hands away from the seat belt clip slowly and feign innocence. "Can I at least say bye to Cap?"

The door slams shut before you even finish your sentence, but you still yell out a goodbye anyway while Bucky yanks open the driver's side door.

He gets in gracefully, throws your stuff onto the passenger seat roughly, and speeds out of the Tower's underground parking before the doors even fully open.

He's quiet the entire drive to your place, tense and stiff in his seat. You're fidgeting in your seat behind him – poking at the back of his neck and trying to get him to open a window— completely unremorseful.

It baffles him, the lengths you're willing to go to get your point across. The damage you're willing to do. It completely blows his mind, the things you're capable of doing – just to get what you want.

He tells you that, as he carries you up to your apartment. Continues to tell you that, as you retch into the toilet and then helps you change into your pyjamas. Doesn't even stutter as he goes on while making you finish up the coffee he made.

You glare at him and his control falters, frowns at that uncanny familiar sensation gripping at the base of his skull.

"—it's not like she was gonna wear it, anyway." You mutter, taking a gulp of the coffee, "you can't marry her now."

"Wha—" his voice cracking cuts him short, a shiver races through him as he tries to blink.

You're sitting on the counter, trapped between both of his arms on either side of you, and he breaks eye contact to look down at the cup in your hand.

"She knows that we're mates," you continue, completely oblivious. "She's great, I like her, honestly. But she can't fight fate, or nature. It would've made cents—scents—" you frown, and glare at the crown of Bucky's head, as if you'll find the word you're looking for there. "—whatever. It doesn't matter. Neither does this wedding, because— come on, let's be honest. No one wants to be with our kind, it’s too risky. We are the defamation of— deformation— what?"

He should find this cute. He usually does. But he can't, not now, not when he can feel the sweat pooling at the back of his shirt. Not when that prickling feeling is clawing up his spin, that trickle of fear – foreign and yet familiar –  why was it so familiar?

"Stop—" he rasps, pushing himself away from you, putting as much distance between the both of you as possible.

You frown, setting the cup down and slide of the counter. "Buck—" your knees knock when you land on your feet, and you have to grab onto the counter to keep you from falling. "—Bucky?"

"Stop." His hands are in his hair, gripping furiously as he shut his eyes. "No."

He has done this before, deflecting from the topic at hand, changing it in a way that made you not want to touch it.

Coffee mugs crushed in his hands. I'll talk to her, don't worry about it.

Fists slammed into dinner tables. For fuck's sakes, I said I'll do it, it's been a really stressful weak as it is.

Doors banged off their hinges. Wanda is not some mate-stealing monster, damnit! I won't have you shit-talking her like this.

Broken plates scattered on the floor, while on their way to the kitchen. Are you fu— doll, please, I didn't come here to fight. Okay? Let's just... not, right now.

You had listened, each time, because he was there with you and not with her. You let him deflect every time, because he needed that from you, and you could never deny him – not that you'd try. You had listened and, in turn, the wedding wasn't called off.

You were done listening.

"You can't walk away every time I bring this up, Buck—" you follow him into the living room, "—I'm not some groupie you can't shake. I'm your soulmate, and you're gonna have to face that fact sooner, rather than later."

"Just—" he breathes out, "—stop talking, for once."

"You can't seriously be mad at me, right now—"

You need to stop.

"I'm not wrong for wanting us to be together, and you know that." You point out, frowning as the chair he’s leaning against begins to crack under his grip. "—okay, fine. We can change the topic, if it's that upsetting!"

He really needs you to stop.

There's a tug at your chest, faint but strong enough to make you look down in confusion, before you realise it's the matebond.

Except, the pull feels different this time. It's an uncomfortable sting, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, and you frown. It has never felt like this, not even when you had first found Bucky, never this... this... alarming?

You look up at your mate and you think that's why. You think it's because he's distressed, that this is serious, that it's another one of his attacks.

So, you go to him, because you need to. Because the feeling won't relent. Because it's in your nature to be what he needs you to be.

The stinging seems to worsen the closer you get, furious as it spikes an increase in your heart rate, and you hate yourself for a second – knowing that you've caused this. This is happening because you went on a rampage and ruined Wanda's wedding dress.

She liked that dress. You know that because he told you. Because it was bought on the same day that you had met Bucky. Because he couldn't stomach the thought of her never being able to wear it for their wedding, once it's called off...

And you decided to turn into swans.

His hand is on you, around your throat, backing you into a wall as it squeezes.

It takes a couple of seconds for you to register, to realise what is happening. And, for some reason, all you can think about was how it was the first time he used his hand –  his actual hand – to touch you.

And, suddenly, you prefer the left hand.

--

It's too late.

By the time he comes to, you're already on the floor.

You're unconscious, your cheeks are wet and your neck is bruising.

He's standing over you, confused. He calls your name, shakes you, but you don't wake.

There's a pulse, he checked, and you're breathing, he double-checked.

He can still feel you, so he tells himself that that's a good sign as he carries you to bed. He sets a bottle of water on your nightstand, charges your phone for you, and scribbles down a note.

Call me when you wake up.

He can't seem to start the car, or remember why you ended up on the floor, so he calls Steve.

He doesn't tell him what happened over the phone, but he does when he arrives. He tells him what he can remember, about the yelling and then putting you to bed and that blank gap between the two.

Shit, Buck. Steve swears, so he knows it's bad.

You're going to hate him in the morning, he knows this, but why isn't he feeling the bond pull him to you. To fix this.

That's what it usually does, doesn't it?

That's why he always came back after every fight, isn't it?

There would be the fighting and arguing and the breaking of things. You would kick him out and ignore him. He would feel bad and make up for it, he had to – he always had to. He could never fight that feeling.

Why wasn't it there, now?

--

Wanda was there when you woke.

Bruce was there, too. Checking you, helping you, telling you what to do and what not to do.

You're all quiet, except for Bruce as he speaks only when necessary. She's in the background, leaning against your dresser, while you try to go about your morning routine in the afternoon.

Bruce called your work and put in a sick leave for you, had Dr Cho sign a sick note for you. He even scheduled an appointment with Cho for you, a proper scan once you can get out of bed.

You blame the mead, how could you not? It had to be it, because there is no way, in heaven or hell, that Bucky could...

Bruce only stays for as long as he needs too. He's a match, the thread match, and he can't stay away from Nat for too long. So, he leaves… she doesn't.

It's awkward, as expected, and ugly and anxiety inducing.

You ruined her wedding dress, cut it into pieces and turned it into a plaything for you and Sam. You remember that part because you did it while you weren't completely shitfaced.

She's marrying the man that you want, the man that's supposed to be yours, and it would be easy to get you out of the picture – get rid of you so you wouldn't put Bucky through this anymore. But she doesn't, because she understands.

She understands because you don't know.

You don't know what they did to him, what they had to do to get him to be the soldier they wanted. You don't know what he went through, what they put him through when he resisted.

And he could never tell you that. Because it's not your fault that they used your bond to turn him into a monster. It's not your fault that they turned the only good thing he had, the one thing that was his, into a weapon. He couldn't tell you that...

"He's in Wakanda." Wanda says softly, eyes locking on yours as you both watch each other from opposite ends of the room. "Bucky."

You want to ask why, she can tell, so she explains.

"When he was put under, again, we thought—" she swallows, rubbing circles in her chest to ease the knot, "—we thought that he could be..."

You give a slight nod of understanding, adjusting the continental pillow behind you back.

You knew what Hydra had done to him, what they had turned him into. Anyone who was anyone knew.

"So," she sighs, "when he came back to the team, we all thought he was okay. I thought he was okay, I mean—I checked to make sure he was okay... But... we know, now that he wasn't. I didn't think it could happen, especially not now. I mean—"

She pauses and looks at you. You can see the struggle on her face, the hesitance to continue, and you frown.

Wanda found out about you on the same day that Bucky did. He told her immediately, over the phone, didn't even wait until she got back to the compound.

He said it didn't change anything, that your presence didn't change anything, but she knew.  She knew it did.

He couldn't balance between her and a mate, she didn't want him to. So, he decided to introduce you to each other.

She liked you instantly, how could she not? You were exactly what she expected Bucky's mate to be, and more. But he didn't care.

She wanted to call things off, but he wouldn't listen to reason. She wanted him to understand, to know that she wouldn't hate him if he didn't choose her. Because she knew better; fate had chosen, and it wasn't her.

It's my choice, he persisted. And I love you. She'll just have to understand, because I'm not leaving you.

You were fate's choice for him.

But he had had enough of people choosing for him; the army, hydra, the UN, and now, you?

No one knows what's best for me, except for me. We're getting married and that's final.

He wouldn't back down and she couldn't fight him. She loved him more than she could ever understand, who was she to choose for him?

"Hydra did things, things that shouldn't be possible," she continues, her voice steadier than she expected. "Once they had their hands on the tesseract, they did things to him that — I don't think we can fix…"

You can feel him, sort of... it's barely there, the bond, but you can still feel him.

She folds her arms across her chest. "Whatever you said last night, whatever it is you did— it triggered him back."

You blink. Once. Twice. Then, all at once, it sinks in and your stomach tightens.

"What?" Is your reaction, whispered and you can barely register the voice as yours.

"They're gonna try and reverse it, like before—" Wanda rushes the words out, but it's too late. Her previous words are already sitting on your chest and you're finding it hard to breathe. "—they've done it once; they can do it again—"

The realisation hits you, hard, and you have to force yourself to breathe.

Because now you understand why, you know why the link had felt that way – why the ache intensified as you got closer to him.

"I threw the bond in his face," your voice cracks and your throat aches as you speak. "I told him that— oh."

It was warning you, the bond, and you ignored it. It was feeling threatened, and you ignored it.

How could you be so selfish?

Wanda is sitting in front of you before you can even blink, trying to calm you down, begging you to calm down, to breathe...

Damn it, why couldn't you breathe?

"I can never have him, can I?" You're gasping, practically wheezing, and your nails dig into Wanda's arm.

The pain is there, she feels it, but she's too busy worrying about your escalating heart rate to focus on it. "Y/N, please, breathe—"

You're shaking your head, frantic and harder than your headache can handle. "What did I do— what did I do— what did I do—"

"Hey—hey— hey, look at me!"

"I ignored it—" your chest hurts and you don't understand why, "—it was, it was here—" you let go of her arm to pat your chest, "—right here, it was here. The bond. I could feel it. And he was begging me to stop and trying to leave, but I didn't listen— Wanda, I didn't listen—"

Wanda doesn't know what to do, not even Bucky had gotten this bad before. This was new territory for her.

You were too far gone to listen to anything she was saying, and she was too busy panicking to know what to do. How does she fix this?

"I need you to calm down, please— oh my god!"

"Why wouldn't I listen? I just wanted him to— you know? I just wanted him to choose me—"

"Y/N! Y/N! Please, I need you to—"

"Because I didn't— I just wanted to have him. And now— I broke it. It's broken. I broke it, Wanda. I broke it—how could I— he needed me to just— and I broke it—"

"Sam— help me! I don't know what's happening— she won't stop— "

 --

It was unchartered territory.

Reversing the trigger through the matebond wasn't possible, especially when the stones had been returned to their timelines.

The only option they had, that Shuri could provide, was completely erasing every single one of his memories. Every, last, one.

Clean slate. No Wanda, or Steve, or you.

You would still remember though, everyone will. So, there really wasn't a point.

You told Wanda – days later, when you were well enough to leave for your appointment with Dr Cho and found her there –  it wouldn't be necessary.

"He doesn't have to go under," you said, fidgeting with hem of the hospital. "I'll stop... I'll stop everything."

She shook her head, ready to protest. "You don't have to do any of that, I'm not going to marr—"

"Please do." You stopped her, shaking your head. You'd done enough damage as it is. "He chose you. He's fought me at every turn because he wants you. I'm not—"

Why was it so easy to say all this?

"I'll still be there, when he needs me— for whatever it is, but only for that. He's yours," he doesn't want me anyway, "We're mates, not matches, we don't have to be together for this to work—"

"You don't know what you're saying—"

"The world has taken enough from you— I've taken enough from you, Wanda. Let me give you this, at least."

You could live without him. You've done it before.

How hard could it be?

Tagging: @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​ , @decadentsoulbiscuitgoth​ [sorry i took so long, won’t happen again :) xx]

[the1918]

Bespoke, Chapter 5 is taking me a stupid amount of time to finish, and I feel so bad about it that I’m going post post a teaser here :) This is about a quarter of the chapter. Hope you like it!

Teaser for Bespoke, Chapter 5

[Story No. 2 in the Compatibile A/B/O Universe]

Pairing: Shrunkyclunks (Cap Steve Rogers / Modern Bucky Barnes), of the bearded Alpha Steve and Omega twink!Bucky subvariety

Rating: Story Rated E for Explicit, this excerpt Rated T for Teen

Tags: A/B/O, sugar daddy!Steve

***

December 15

Thursday - 2:15 P.M.

Elevators in medical buildings always smelled like rubbing alcohol and iodine, which was definitely not Bucky’s favorite smell. He breathed through his mouth instead of his nose as the elevator descended the fourteen floors from Dr. Pete’s office suite, down to the ground floor.

Bucky had left work early that day to catch his monthly blood work appointment. Unpleasantly sterile smells aside, he was breathing especially easy that afternoon, for two reasons. First, he had finally wrapped up the enormous project he’d been working on in his lab for almost eight months, and he’d passed it off to the StarkTech testing department. Getting that load off his plate was a massive relief, and it came at the perfect time; he could now embark on his Vermont vacation (tomorrow!) with Steve and leave behind the weight of work on his shoulders. Second, the results of Bucky’s blood work had shown his hormone levels right where Dr. Pete had expected them to be, based on the Heat time-table they were anticipating. No early Heat.

Bucky was more stress-free than he could remember feeling in six months.

As he stepped out of the elevator to the ground floor, Bucky immediately felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out to find a text message from Steve.

 [2:15 P.M.] Stevie: Done at Pete’s yet?

 Instead of walking out onto the cold, winter-time city streets, Bucky found a bench in the lobby and sat down to respond.

 [2:16 P.M.] Sent: Yep, just finished.

[2:16 P.M.] Stevie: Great. Any surprises?

 Bucky knew Steve was referring to his blood work. He typed out his response knowing Steve would be relieved by the results, just as Bucky was.

 [2:17 P.M.] Sent: Nope. Everything was where Dr. P thought it would be.

[2:18 P.M.] Sent: He says I look on track for April, maybe February if it comes early.

 Bucky watched his phone. There was no response from Steve for a while, and Bucky worried that he may have spooked him with details about their time-table. The two hadn’t talked about Bucky’s next Heat much at all since their first and only therapy visit with Dr. Welsh, but Bucky knew it was hanging over their heads. If his Heat came within the conservative margin of error that Dr. Pete had estimated, they could theoretically be dealing with it in less than 60 days. With it would come Steve’s rut, and if they didn’t make any significant, tangible progress on the knotting issue before then, they could very well be dealing with something they weren’t ready for emotionally. The pressure, however silent, was there.

His phone vibrated again just as he was pulling out his gloves to head out onto the street.

 [2:22 P.M.] Stevie: Good to hear. You got any other plans this afternoon?

 Bucky frowned. He wondered if Steve was going to ask him for a late lunch, and he wished he hadn't already eaten.

 [2:23 P.M.] Sent: No. Was gonna come home for the day, help you out with the lighting installation.

[2:23 P.M.] Sent: Why?

[2:24 P.M.] Stevie: Because you have plans now.

[2:24 P.M.] Stevie: [Blue Serenity Spa]  - You’ve Been Sent a Link on Google Maps!

His confused frown deepened as he clicked the link. It took him to the location of some sort of day spa in northwest Brooklyn, not far from their apartment. Before Bucky could text back a ‘???’, another text from Steve came through.

 [2:25 P.M.] Stevie: You have an open-ended appointment starting at 3:15 P.M. Any and all services you ask for. I got you scheduled for a massage already, but you can change that if you want.

[2:26 P.M.] Stevie: They have my card info. Don’t you dare to even think about looking at the price list.

[2:26 P.M.] Stevie: Better go catch the next train baby ;)

 Flabbergasted, thumbs paralyzed and seemingly unable to type out another text, Bucky decided to just hit the call button on Steve’s contact. He placed the phone to his ear and he suddenly felt antsy as he waited for Steve to pick up. There was no ‘hello’ when the ringing stopped, only Steve’s teasing voice.

“I thought I told you to head for the train?”

“Steve,” Bucky began, emphatically. “What is this? You booked me a spa appointment?”

Steve was silent on the other end of the line for a long moment, and Bucky wondered if it was because he was more nervous than his confident communication let on.

“Yeah, angel. I did. Look,” Steve sighed, “you really don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d like this, I’m sorry. I just thought—”

“Woah,” Bucky interjected. “Hang on, I never said I didn’t like it. I just… I guess I don’t know why you want — why you think I deserved—”

“—You don’t know why I think you deserved to be pampered, Buck?” Steve interrupted, incredulous. “Really? After you just worked your ass off at work for months to finish a project that no one else could have even dreamed of doing? The technology that Tony’s been yapping to me about since before I even knew you?”

“It’s still technically in R&D,” Bucky muttered, blushing. Steve had always been supportive and enthusiastic about Bucky’s engineering work, but it still never ceased to make him feel a little bashful when Steve got to actually raving about him and his skills.

“Yeah, and the finished product is going to be amazing, because Bucky fucking Barnes developed it.”

Bucky laughed and fiddled with a thread on his sweater.

“You… you’re sure? I’ve never really been to a spa like that before, and it looked really nice on Google…”

“And it will be nice for you, which is exactly what I want.”

“Stevie…” Bucky smiled to himself and shook his head, a little at a loss for words. “I really was going to come home and help, you know. It takes more than two hands to put up some of those bigger fixtures.”

“Doesn’t have to be your hands, though. That’s why Sam is here.” Sure enough, in the background of the phone call Bucky suddenly heard Sam’s voice, hollering something that sounded a lot like, ‘go get a fucking rub down, Barnes!’.

Steve chuckled, and then Bucky thought he could hear him walking away.

“Also…” Steve said, volume lower, “last night, you put a plug in your ass and begged me to nail you on Tony’s conference room table. I think treating my baby to a spa appointment is the least I can do when you’ve just fulfilled multiple fantasies I didn’t even know I had.”

Bucky barked out a laugh at that. He looked down at the clock on his new smart watch—another gift from Steve—and realized that he really did have to head for the train if he was actually going to do this. He stood up and grabbed his bag.

“Alright… alright,” he conceded. Steve’s smile was almost audible through the phone. “You’ve convinced me. Thank you, Stevie.”

“No thanks necessary, baby. I wish you would let me treat you like this all the time, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Finally walking out onto the cold and busy sidewalk, Bucky was just about to say his goodbye and hang up when Steve chimed in again.  

“By the way, I just put in a call to Tony. You’ll be hearing from him very soon.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped. “Shit. Did he figure out what we did? I mean, cleanup was a bitch, and we definitely had to throw away that undershirt after using it as towel, but I think we did a pretty good job covering our tracks? God, I’m gonna be in such deep shit with him—”

“No, nothing like that,” Steve chuckled. “I mean, there’s no way he doesn’t know, but he also knows damn well that he better come to me first if he’s got a problem with it. Besides… He probably considers it payback.”

“Payback? For what?”

“A story for another time,” Steve promised. “Are you at the station yet?”

“I’m walking there right now.”

“Alright, I’ll let you go. Have a relaxing time, baby. You deserve it. And use your time there, okay? I don’t want to see you home before six. Hell— keep ‘em ‘till they close, if you can manage it.”

“Okay,” Bucky laughed. “Thank you, Steve. Seriously… and I love you.”

“I love you, too, and I really love you when you let me spoil you.” Bucky could practically hear Steve wink. “Bye, honey.”

 As Bucky walked the familiar route to the subway station, his phone dinged again, this time from Tony.

 [2:44 P.M.] Tiny Snark: I literally cannot look at your face after what you did to my conference room with your jackass boyfriend.

[2:44 P.M.] Tiny Snark: Do not come in tomorrow.

[2:45 P.M.] Tiny Snark: Consider it extra paid vacation, you disgusting pond scum.

[2:45 P.M.] Tiny Snark: Seriously. I better not see you or your vile beau again until January.

 Bucky probably looked like an idiot laughing so hard alone in public, but he didn’t care.

 [2:46 P.M.] Sent: Thanks Tony. Merry Christmas.

[2:47 P.M.] Tiny Snark: Yeah, and Happy fucking New Year.

 Bucky stuffed his phone in his pocket and abandoned himself to his thoughts as he jogged down the steps into the station, marveling at the wonder that was his boyfriend. Sometimes, he still could not believe that Steve was his. Steve—who had not only been a supportive partner to Bucky from the very beginning, but who was also a powerful and attentive lover, and—most importantly—the single greatest source of Bucky’s joy. By the time he reached the subway platform, waiting for the train, the sudden enormity of his gratitude for Steve had begun to bubble up and spread within the depths of Bucky’s chest, and he felt fit to combust with it. He had to remind himself just to breathe.

How had he gotten so lucky?

***

I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek! Their relationship is about to head in a very special direction, starting in this chapter.

[floggingink]

bitch I bet you thought I’d forgotten about Riverdale, “Chapter Thirty-Seven: Fortune and Men’s Eyes”

I absolutely agree with Archie’s wild careening off the side of the road of justice to plead guilty to a crime he “may as well have” committed. I couldn’t believe Archie was so preposterously on the money about himself: “I didn’t kill anyone, but I could have.” GOOD, ARCHIE. I love Juvie Archie. better than Fascist Archie!!!!

I didn’t google “prison powder” to see if that shit’s soap or for lice or what but y’all’ll fill me in on that won’t you

“Leopold and Loeb” is just the level of allusory on-brand naming hubris I demand

“Captain Golightly” doesn’t seem to be a reference to anything other than a brutal dichotomy between whimsy and a dictatorial prison state

you know they hit us up with that Pop’s lighting not even at Pop’s! I never met a window I didn’t want to have bathe me in God’s light!

Sixth period is Intro to Film: the cross stitch quote on the warden’s wall, which I assume dude’s wife made for him because he and she adhere to traditional gender roles, is of course from Sonnet 29, referenced in the title to a play and 70’s movie very much about sexual slavery in prison (Archie has not seen it)

Day One at Juvie Coif: very good, uplifted, touchable but held fast

they really did the line-up of the Hot Dads of Riverdale right there: Tom seems to be eating pancakes and bacon, and FP is wearing a scarf like a headband but like a necklace

Fred’s flannel is an interesting mix of colors like, for a flannel, and Veronica appears to be wearing subtle yellow eyeshadow to go with her waitress dress

when were we going to hear about the three perjuring thugs? who corroborated Archie’s false confession???? cold

“Shadow County” is the third county in “Riverdale State”

The Blossom spawn: Dr. Patel seems to be the Cooper family GP with specialities in both obstetrics and neurology; Betty is still wearing her hospital bracelet

I never noticed the teensy blackboard under Alice’s kitchen cabinets; the Coopers are truly peak bourgeois chic

Polly’s itty bitty lace headband is good and the Farm has done wonders for her and Alice’s accessory game

Betty’s body language at “Uh...because I saw you and mom throw the twins on a fucking fire” is very funny (Betty has not told a joke yet)

Dilton Doiley is a canonically great dancer: RIP!!!!!!

I want to get out of the way that for some reason Jughead looks really good throughout this episode. I can’t explain why, maybe it’s because he’s finally wearing plaid again, but he looks good. if you thought he looked good in the first place, he’s back

is Betty wearing her Carrie: the Musical outfit?

last week I misheard Dilton and thought he said “Cardinal King,” and I was like, What? and then it got even better

Places Bughead are Fucking: the Blue & Gold office

Archie > Dawson: God bless Archie but he does try to be personable with Mad Dog right away, unleashing one of his legendary “bros.” how old were you when you realized you couldn’t do a pull-up? I’ve never done a pull-up in my goddamn life and certainly not to a vinyl of a piano sonata

Mad Dog (I just wrote “God,” because I guess he’s that beautiful) has approximately 100 cigarettes, which he certainly does not smoke, so he is hoarding them for some grand purpose?

when Mad Dog turned around I swear I saw muscles I didn’t know the human body possessed. I’m talking fresh-out-of-the-science-tube Steve Rogers

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: Mad Dog’s impeccably maintained fade

The 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: Josie has the right attitude about LBJ and Vietnam, except I think JFK got us into Vietnam, but then the Gulf of Tonkin was LBJ. I don’t want to google the Vietnam War. look, McNamara is a war criminal

Cheryl’s sheaths: I wish I had the energy to coordinate my bras with the rest of my aesthetic like Josie, in a leopard print, and Cheryl, in red lace. I will say I have recently discovered unlined bras and they have changed me for the better

do you think Archie + varsity football + theater extracurriculars = Cheryl + student body president + 4.0 GPA + theater extracurriculars?

Serpent with the General-style opthalmic frames and low-rise Chucks intrigues me

Joaquin does Archie so bad!!!!!!! even after he got the fucking tattoo, damn!

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: Joaquin’s eyes are so crystal clear that I don’t think they have a color of their own. he’s wearing the optional grey shirt, so they look grey; if he wore the optional navy shirt (I can’t yet tell a difference in status) they would look blue

oh god, what is that Ghoulie doing at the fucking fence? is he slicing his fingertips for fun? what the fuck, the Ghoulies are so fucking bizarre

Archie calls Joaquin “bro” which means he is fucking serious

we all need to take a moment to ourselves to truly absorb the skull of Dr. Curdle’s son, who is also a corrupt coroner (his name tag says “Dr. Curdle Jr”). of the three most alien skulls so far, this is the most take-abacking (I HAVE seen every episode and my calculations are sound)

he’s really gonna let Dilton (RIP!!!!!) have his arm hang down off the table like that, in this, his final repose? cold

the almost ironic intonation of “signs….of stress….” as he pulls the sheet down is amazingly 50’s horror movie

“Runic, I’d say.”

mmmmmmmmmm Fresh-Aid! I listened to the Jonestown tape in an episode of Last Podcast and was well disturbed!!!!!

you tell me why Jughead is using the camera he used in the pilot instead of like, his phone camera: because Jughead?

because Jughead

Places Bughead are Fucking: coroner’s Office

I want one of these L & L shirts. I would prefer the navy version with the little sleeves

excuse me but one of these Ghoulies has an absolute 2008 sidebang

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: “DON’T TOUCH HIS FACE”

Veronica’s flower sweater

BEN BUTTON

Betty’s 70’s-collared Piet Mondrian shirt is super cute, although a white-backed women’s shirt with that thin Forever 21 fabric always fucks you if you have to wear a bra

the actress who plays Evelyn Evernever is named Zoé de Grand Maison and honestly I don’t know who has the better name

DOES KEVIN STILL WANT TO LOSE HIS VIRGINITY BY HALLOWEEN

if homecoming is in September or October, the schedule should be roughly 1) Archie gets out of juvie, followed by 2) Kevin loses his virginity with Moose

Gay.: Kevin’s kiss is VERY good and quite bold! for a hallway, and Moose’s twangy hair is nice

at my high school, everyone just said “rot-see” for ROTC, so surely these hip kids wouldn’t go around saying R-R-O-T-C like that, UNREALISTIC, RIVERDALE

the extremely tall gothy Vixen is even taller than the extremely tall Ghoulie and I would like to take her to homecoming

Summer + Blair = Veronica: “You’re acting like trash, and I don’t want to get a citation.”

what the hell does student body president even do? to the extent I can even recall our student body president, whose name I believe was Lauren, I think she read the afternoon announcements

Ben WAS the kid Kevin ordered that hot dog from during the James Dean closing night! (I’m not double-checking)

Ben WAS the kid Miss Grundy was ~grooming~ when she got merked!

Ben’s mom is such a boring white mom lady that she’s wearing a denim button-down with but a single flower appliqué

YOU KNOW I LOVED THAT BLAIR WITCH TWIG BABY

Officer Henderson WAS the cop who found the “HL” briefcase at the dead Serpent’s hotel room!

I looked into what starting a chapter of the Innocence Project entails for a “couple of minutes.” I assume Veronica is going to go with option one: nonprofit organization, “independently incorporated” with “its own governing board” and fundraising, as I would doubt Riverdale has a local law school or much of a public defender’s office, you know what I’m saying?

What damn high school in America: Veronica is wearing some high-waisted black slacks and quite the polka dot top, which may in fact simply be a bustier. I imagine Principal Weatherbee has battled so many times over the years with Cheryl, who is constantly toeing the line of what a 16-year-old can legally wear, that he has since given up entirely

Jughead crawling over the back of the couch and dangling the totem baby is such a throwback to Jughead crawling over the back of the diner booth and eating the whipped cream cherry that now they are simply teasing me with the grandeur of times gone by, like an Andy Williams Christmas song thrown up on 101.9 KINK

Ethel has on some sort of wicked pin but it’s not in focus!

Betty’s top is very cute, structured

everyone has their own “Yeah, I guess” face at “Dilton Doiley [RIP!!!!!!!] has a secret bunker in the woods?”

Jughead cooly threatens Ethel with quote-unquote telling the police; this of course calls back to Jughead threatening Dilton (RIP!!!!!) in the third episode with Sheriff Keller, but let me ask you this: if Betty & Jughead DID take Ethel to the sheriff, would Sheriff Minetta give a flying fuck? doesn’t he answer directly to Hiram on all things Jughead at this point? could Betty and Jughead POSSIBLY still imagine the cops will heed anything they bring them?

Sheriff Minetta: Jughead Jones now seems to be under the impression that a band of Riverdale High juniors are in an underground RPG cult that has led to a double-suicide

Hiram: Thank God

something about Jughead’s teensy Yes’m head nod is just enough like a chivalrous bow that I have thus taken the time to note how cute it is

Day Two Juvie Coif: visibly succumbing to stress, but with dignity; starting to feather

I don’t know anything about sneakers but I like Mad Dog’s hightops

the cinematography in Archie’s cell is great. I especially like the panning around Archie when he’s not even moving, just listening to Mad Dog talking about, “The moment you set foot in here,” etc.

Mädchen Amick, MÄDCHEN AMICK: FP AND ALICE BOOOOOIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!! missing is the implied scene where Alice called FP to “get over here” so they can “talk to our kids” “together”

50 Shades of Betty: Betty tries hard to communicate with only her left eyebrow, fails

am I imagining a callback to Alice assuming Jughead was the one who railroaded Betty into looking at Jason Blossom? Alice’s stance on Jughead is too exhausting to track

Alice is certainly wearing a sheer floral peasant blouse she would NOT have worn the previous two seasons, SUSPICIOUS

Places Bughead are Not Fucking: Betty’s room

Gay?!: Archie’s incredulous delight at Reggie having helped picked out his RHS-themed sneakers; the Bulldogs are all about that #threestripelife

Veronica was rich: “FRESH KICKS”

Moose is apparently a “straight beast,” if you will

one of these Serpents is holding two playing cards, just chilling and holding two playing cards. I hope his prison name is like SNAKE EYES or THE JOKER

that Ghoulie dude is so striking and elongated, I swear to God he looks like John Travolta in Grease. that undercut, the well-oiled curls on top? can he be Josie’s fall fling?

God bless jingle-jangle: can you DROP OUT of fourth grade? doesn’t the state come for you, what the fuck?

I unironically love Archie’s plan. I fucking love it

“YOU’VE NEVER KNOWN THE EPIC HIGHS AND LOWS”—ARCHIE—YOU’RE A FUCKING SAVANT

I’m looking for other good haircuts in the background. one dude has a solid Wakanda-era Bucky Barnes and there’re slicked up curls aplenty. this juvie is like a candy box

you know this bitch loves a rack focus, especially onto prison wardens

Please protect Betty: “It’s chamomile, Betty. Calm down.”

FREAKISHLY good micromoment of Alice just like wiping away an eyelash or something

aloud, with witnesses, I said “This is like when they first held hands, am I right?” and then Betty said the “kind of reminds me of when we first started dating,” just to prove to you I HAVE seen every episode

Betty calmly checking in with Jughead re: Satan’s Reindeer

he’s most certainly Ethel on stilts (I’m very bad at predicting), but I love the Gargoyle King. he’s just the right mix of she-puts-you-in-the-corner and herky-jerky T-Rex, plus she put paint on him or whatever, in case somebody put a flashlight beam on him? Ethel fucking Muggs or whoever

love the sexy noir diner lighting and I will die loving it

Jughead eats: a toothpick

Day Three Juvie Coif: back at it, flush with victory; firm and wavy

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: I do wish Cheryl were not so permanently a good guy. I wish she wanted to be Student Body President, all of a sudden, so badly that she was trying to keep Archie in juvie so he could never reclaim his throne, like if she were Scar

Kevin’s magenta polo has a subtle wave print

I hope the RROTC is somehow rotting from the inside, like the Adventure Scouts or Aquaholics

The female gaze: Archie’s cranking out push-ups and Mad Dog is doing tricep dips to warm up, for the game and “other business,” respectively. sometimes I like to do tricep dips too, usually for forty-five seconds while I’m waiting for the microwave to reheat my Kraft Thick N’ Creamy

Archie’s “What the hell are you to him?” is maybe his most astute query into something not being right that doesn’t include his remarkable quickness on the uptake of Jughead at the end of season one (I HAVE seen every episode)

These students are legally children: what the fuck did Mad Dog do that he’s been sentenced to like 25 years in prison? he’s a minor for God’s sake. get on this, Veronica

Places Bughead are Fucking: the fucking woods

catch me hightailing it the fuck out of there when Betty and Jughead do anything that even remotely resembles opening a circular hatch to ANYTHING out in a fucking forest clearing and peering down inside. BYE BITCHES YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN!!!!!

someone in the writer’s room at even only one point said the phrase “like in True Detective” while unspooling this yarn

Fifth period is AP English: I have to take Jughead’s word for it that there’re any bunkers in any Philip K. Dick novel

I am STILL salty that the Swords & Serpents thing IS NOT THE SAME THING as THIS RPG and that it was wholly abandoned. I can’t believe we’re not doing Jughead being sucked into the RPG cult and Betty have to haul him out SIMULTANEOUSLY with her mother being sucked into the postpartum cult and having to haul HER out

“He’s also featured prominently on this copper coin.”

y’all can just buy cyanide like that, in that glass growler? it has a “reliable prescription” sticker on it, WTF?

“Drink from the correct cup and ascend to the kingdom” is definitely ripped from one of the tracks on that Avenged Sevenfold album I bought at Borders freshman year

Jughead doubts it: “OR SOMETHING EVEN MORE INSIDIOUS”

I fucking knew that Adventure Scout was gonna be under that fucking cot but it still scared the crap out of me because The Haunting of Hill House exhausted my reserves

I’m going to come out and say that I’ve never cared for Charmed and I’m not watching the reboot. however I am exceedingly ready for Sabrina

“Princess Etheline”

guys, I found the “Jailhouse Rock” dance charming, especially the implication that the boys started the game up again in the middle to like, show off for the girls. am I getting soft in my old age?

Josie’s VERY bright blue eyeshadow

Cheryl’s hair: Cheryl had to have been influenced by the trend started pre-2012 in So You Think You Can Dance wherein dancers with very long hair just leave it down

Hiram…..Archie’s in jail. what else do you want? like, he’s IN JUVIE

am I out of my fucking mind or is Hiram wearing a pin that is PSYCHOTICALLY close to being the Hydra hydra?

Archie overtaking the first few guards with those slow-mo crosses until they finally beat him down by their sheer numbers was basically a scene from Spartacus: War of the Damned

Betty’s bug print is cute while being, subconsciously, slightly unsettling; this is true for Betty as a whole

Ethel’s mustard yellow cotton cardigan has some sort of flower print on its back? COOL

I would like to extend a hearty “fuck off with that for fucking me” to whoever blocked out seizing-Ethel whipping her arm up like that with her jacked hand JUST LIKE IN HEREDITARY. FUCK OFF!, and I mean it

“Damn good coffee”: Evelyn has just the sort of niche superpower I wish I could have: to fuck with other people’s social interactions from a casual remove

Jughead is remarkably polite with 911, much calmer than with the desk nurse after Fangs got shot (I HAVE seen every episode)

(Hereditary was much better than Hill House)

Best costume bit: Monica Posh is hot

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: Kevin wants that dick SO BADLY that he has JOINED THE ARMY (or whatever)

how did Pop’s lighting manage to glide all the way over to L&L?

Day Four Juvie Coif: slept on but still truckin’

Archie can only be fucking imagining what is about to happen to him (Archie has definitely seen Fight Club, and Jughead had to explain how it was satire)

Certified pedigree: LEGENDARY SQUAD OF PARENTS!!!!!! Hermione’s getting the band back together à la It

Penelope Blossom has gone full Victorian goth in that floor-length lace Chicago black widow number

“At the mere mention of ‘blue lips,’” Jughead wrote, “a shiver frissoned around the room.”

you can tell Alice is in a hippie cult because not only is she wearing crystals but she has stopped wearing eye makeup (I could never be in this sort of cult because if I don’t smear kohl all over them I look like I have tiny eyes; I am sensitive about this)

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: the reveal of Ben in the window, bathed in the blue glow of Pop’s diner, was like, ~chills~

“You’ll fly too” is of course also It, which, FUCK OFF

NEXT WEEK: I could be very fucking wrong about this but FP has a tattoo on his left pec that may very well be of a jellybean

[oopsabird]

1; & 3, 5, 10 for take my heart &/so much like stars

1. Of the fics you’ve written, which is your  favourite and why?

Of all of my fics, that award I think would have to go to “I have loved the stars too fondly” (my Hamlet fic). Partly because I’m exceptionally pleased with how the prose and story/visuals execution turned out (in the most recent edited edition, which I think was last spruced up in 2016), and partly because since Hamlet is public domain, it technically sits on a sort of par with The Lion King in terms of canon-ness (or at least that’s what I say to boost my own ego lol). Of my WW fics (completed ones), I like “And In The Morning” best - it executes exactly the imagery and mood I intended it to, and I like it so much that I actually frequently forget that the hug it adds to the airfield aftermath scene isn’t actually canon, despite me carrying it over to all my other fics (it happened off-screen and I will take that headcanon to my grave). gambit, that wonderful whumpy collection of historical anachronisms, medical bullshitting, and tropes, is a very close second there, purely because I designed it to be a collection of things I enjoy in fic so of course I love it.

3. Which part of [title] was hardest to write?

take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat: Trying to convey exactly the physical positions and body language I was picturing in my head while maintaining prose and mood was probably the toughest. I tend to picture my fics like films in my head beforehand, complete with camera angles and cuts and mood lighting and a lot of minute physical/action detail, so trying to cram all that information into a sentence that still reads nicely and gets the intended feeling across is my most frequent struggle in writing. This was a fic that to me carried just as much of its mood and angst in things like the touch of a shoulder or the intonation of a word as it did in the prose, so it was tough, but I think I struck a pretty good balance.

so much like stars: I know the answer to this instantly, and you may know it too since I mention it in the end note of the fic: the undressing scene. Like, I basically worship Lindy Hemming for her costume design work in this movie and legitimately think she deserved to at least be nominated for an Oscar for it (product placement: the Wonder Woman Artbook is well worth its $50 price tag for the incredible insight into the crazy amount of craftmanship and work that went into making this movie. Must-have if you are fascinated by film-making and Wonder Woman. Hence why I have it.) All that being said, the (truly excellent) costumes for Sameer and Charlie have an INSANE amount of layers and pieces, and because I am a stickler for prop continuity I took it upon myself to keep track of each and every one. Except for a few I omitted because I knew nobody else is enough of a nerd about this movie to know the difference lol. It was a nightmare of my own making but in the end also a good writing exercise for managing prop pieces in a scene. But still. SO. MANY. JACKETS.

I really do go on in the rest of these answers, so please find them tucked under the cut!

5. Did you make an outline for [title], and if so did you stick to it?

I have what I would call a very ADHD writing technique, in which I will generally impulsively write the scenes I have visualized most clearly first, regardless of their place in the fic; then I spend possibly weeks jumping around and filling in the patches between scenes whenever inspiration strikes, generally working either from a vague “it will go like this overall” plan stored in my brain, or a placeholder in-text like “[they leave the bar and travel home. Charlie falls asleep in the cab]”. I almost always write my openings last, after having built the rest of the fic together bit-by-bit and now needing a way to segue the reader into it. That’s process is basically how I wrote both of these, except these were essentially written as a moment of hyperfocus rather than over a long period of time - each of them developed very quickly from initial idea to publication in a short period because I didn’t do literally anything else during that time (take my heart over a period of 12 hours, so much like stars over a period of three days). The only fic I have that really has a concretely written formal outline is The Big Fic (that mythological creature from my WIP list), and that’s because I’ve spent months actively workshopping the shit out of it and treating the damn thing like a novel (which is probably why finishing it escapes me).

10. What are some facts that readers may not know about [title]?

Ooooooo this is a delightful question, because as you can probably tell from my lengthy author’s notes on AO3, I looooove giving “director’s commentary” and spilling extra-textual info about my fics!

take my heart: 

I don’t like that this is yet another WW fic I’ve done where Diana appears but doesn’t speak, but couldn’t (yet) find a way to give her even a passing line that didn’t feel shoehorned. 

The choice to use present tense was made on a whim.

Though the fic doesn’t actually mention it explicitly (the one that I borrowed my own headcanon from does), the injury Charlie received to his shoulder and was put on leave for is that he “froze up” during their last mission and got shot (it was a graze), fell off his sniper perch and hit his head (a version of this incident is detailed in To Burn And Keep Quiet).

I worry that I write too many fics where Sameer is just a lens for processing Charlie’s trauma and emotional arcs in the text, and want to do more pieces that give Sami other plots and motivations and have him operating as a character more independently from his relationship to and feelings for Charlie.

Originally the idea was going to be Sami saying “I love you” knowing it will be forgotten in the morning, but then when I was writing it I was like “wait, I’ve thought of something worse! how delightful!”.

The “over breakfasts and newspapers” line is intended as a reference to Steve’s in-movie explanation to Diana of what people do when there are no wars to fight.

I decided to have it rain at one point because in the movie when Diana enters the pub with Steve the pavement is shown to be wet so I figure it must have been that kind of day, and also because it was raining all day while I wrote so I was really feeling it.

so much like stars: 

I went to painstaking googling lengths to find a French-language song  for the opening that was both period-accurate and suitable to the mood.

I actually omitted at least one costume piece: Sami wears these absurd-looking knit legwarmer-looking things over his boots and the bottom of his pants (these can be glimpsed in some scenes), and not only do they really look strange with just the suit (less so with all his coats and everything on), but I have no idea what they’re called and was sick of writing costume pieces, so I left them out knowing nobody else is enough of a nerd about it to notice.

I originally wanted to give this fic a fade-to-black/”soft focus” They Done Fucked romantic get-together conclusion (hence the setup with the windowless room, the creaky bed, the washbasin), but as the fic progressed I decided against it because it didn’t feel right for the tone/situation or the fact that that’s not my actual headcanon for how that night would’ve gone (and I was shooting for canon-compliant). An unfinished draft of that alternate ending does exist, but it’s not as of yet in any shape to be shown to anybody. Yet.

I worried while writing (still do, a bit) that this fic wouldn’t be liked/read by other fans because I know that the version of Charlie I have developed/analyzed out of my repeated close readings of the film and headcanons is a much more likable character than the impression of him you get after just one or two viewings of the film, so I worried that more casual/less obsessed fans reading this (and indeed, several of my other fics) wouldn’t be able to suspend their disbelief enough to accept me saying “yeah, Sameer is very in love with him. attacted to him, even.” without having been along for the ride on my entire crazy obsession with this movie and these characters. Luckily the way Sameer’s interactions with him in the film are acted and shot do the vast majority of the heavy lifting in-canon for this ship already, so readers are more likely to take “Sami is in love with Charlie, secretly” as read without me having to do too much extra stuff to back it up or make it plausible. “Charlie is in love with Sami” doesn’t require nearly as much work to “justify” because Sami is extremely handsome and charming and much of the fandom seems to adore him anyway, so its more like “yeah obviously, who WOULDN’T be in love with him in some way or another?”

I watched the entire “Night In Veld” set of scenes (through from Sami bringing Diana and Steve drinks to that wonderful Wondertrev fade-to-black scene) probably about 8+ times during the process of writing this fic, just to keep myself in the right frame of mind/mood; at this point I could recite it word-for-word.

Sami’s list of “Reasons Not To Tell Him” is pretty much my favourite part of the fic.

The “Sami wears undershirts with sleeves, Charlie wears sleeveless ones” distinction is my own little bit of costume design and also a headcanon that I carry through almost all of my fics.

I had a lot of trouble trying to balance my dedication to the principle “write non-English dialogue in the correct language” with “you can’t subtitle this, there is a LOT of French, and it needs to be comprehensible for an English audience”. What you see in the fic is my version of a happy medium, which I think works rather well.

Thank you for asking this!!!! And thank you to anybody who stuck it out to read this whole damn thing and indulge my infodumping!

[blissfullylostinarabbithole]

Soldier’s Heart Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Finding Flower becomes a team effort, and the Soldier has no choice but to put his trust in them.

A/N: Again, Bold is in meant to be in Russian (I wanted to do it properly, but google translate is a joke so I scrapped that).

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“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve started every conversation that way since Bucky decided to stay in the containment chamber.

“It’s me, Steve,” he replied, smiling at his friend’s relief. “Anything?”

“Not yet.” He hated that he couldn’t do anything more to ease his worry. “We checked all the places he told us,” he said, referring to the Soldier. “Do you have anything that could help us?”

Bucky sighed and ran both his hands through his hair. “No. They’d have moved her as soon as they realized I was gone, anyway.”

“Who is she?” Steve took a seat opposite the wall next to Bucky’s bed.

He looked lost. “I don’t know. I just remember after every mission, she was there, waiting for me.”

“Do you remember anything else?”

The tiniest smile graced Bucky’s lips. “She always had dirty feet.” He smiled a little more at Steve’s soft chuckle. “I don’t know why, but she did.”

“I can see how important she is to you. To both of you.”

“We’re the same person, Steve…”

“No, you’re not,” he said with a conviction that left no room for arguing.

Bucky sighed and shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense… why haven’t they used her to try and draw me out?”

“Have you given any thought… that maybe they didn’t keep her around?” Steve asked warily.

“No.” Natasha walked into the room, carrying Bucky’s lunch. “It’s not like they don’t know Barnes is here. They’d have sent her to him in pieces.”

“Romanoff!” Steve warned.

“She’s right. She’s still alive.” Bucky looked to him, desperation evident in his eyes. “You have to find her.”

“We will, Buck. I promise,” he assured him.

Steve found it was a promise that was getting harder and harder to keep. As time passed, and facility after facility was emptied without a trace of Bucky’s Flower, all of them were starting to lose hope. Steve was more disturbed by their failure than anyone, not only because he felt he was letting his friend down, but because the Soldier’s appearances were becoming more frequent. He was also becoming less compliant, demanding to be let out to find her himself. Bucky wasn’t much different. He wanted to go on their missions to find her, but everyone kept reminding him that since his memories of her started returning, he was losing his control over the Soldier.

He always scolded himself when he was feeling guilty. While they turned up empty handed where the girl was concerned, they still managed to free a lot of prisoners from the facilities they shut down. So seeing the missions as failed made Steve feel even worse. He knew Bucky tried to be understanding, but he couldn’t forget the brief look of disappointment that flashed on his face whenever he reported back to him alone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

They had no reason to think this facility would be any different from the previous ones. The size was similar, as was the intel. Only Tony, Clint, and Natasha had gone. Once they got inside, they saw how wrong they were in thinking they wouldn’t be facing more than couple dozen agents.

“They’ve got something big here. There’s no way the this place can sustain this many agents for long,” Clint said when all enemies were downed.

“Agreed.” Natasha began searching through files. “Spread out and find what needed this much protection.”

Clint took the top floors, while Tony headed to the basement.

Not long later, Tony rang in their ears. “Uh, guys? You might wanna get down here.”

“There’s more?” Natasha asked, pulling her weapon back out.

“No.”

“Hostages?”

“Just one… of the frozen variety.”

They met Tony and began the process to free the girl in the chamber, taking aim as they watched her adjust to being defrosted.

She looked up at the three people before her, her brow slightly furrowed. She didn’t recognize them, but when they didn’t make a move, she tore her eyes from them and began looking around the room. Her dazed look quickly turned to one of distress.

“Where’s my soldier?” her soft voice cracked.

Natasha’s eyes widened in shock. “Shit,” she whispered.

“What? Why are we swearing?” Tony grew slightly alarmed.

“Flower?”

“Yes?”

“We found her…” she said breathlessly, tucking her weapon into its holster.

“Wait, Barnes’ girl? This is her?” Clint lowered his weapon, hardly believing the person they’d been searching for for months was finally in front of them.

“Shouldn’t we be restraining her?”

“Seriously?” Natasha was unimpressed. “Look at her. She’s afraid.”

“We don’t know what she’s capable of.”

“No, but we do know what Barnes can do, and he may not be happy if she shows up in cuffs,” Clint warned.

“Where’s my soldier?” she asked a little more steadily.

“What’s she want?” Tony didn’t lower his arm, still not convinced she wasn’t a danger.

“She’s asking for Barnes.” She held her hand out to the girl. “He’s waiting for you.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Steve was training in the gym when his phone rang. He was about to hit ‘ignore’ when he saw Natasha’s name on the screen. He tore off his wrappings straightaway and answered. “Nat, what’s wrong.”

“Steve, we think we found her. I’m going to send a picture. See if you can get Barnes to confirm it’s her.”

“Oh my god,” he breathed a sigh of relief.

“I wouldn’t start celebrating yet, old man. We need a positive I.D. first, then we need to survive the trip back.”

“Just send the picture.” He hung up, running down to Bucky’s containment area. When he burst into the room, he knew it was the Soldier from the way he stood, ready for a fight. Steve ignored it and approach the glass, pressing his phone against it. “Is this her?”

His shoulders relaxed, and he quickly closed the distance. Steve had his answer when he saw the Soldier’s features soften. He brought his hand up to the glass, as if hoping he could feel her through it. He nodded in response to Steve, never taking his eyes off the phone.

Steve slowly removed the phone, not wanting to anger the other man, but nothing happened. He called Natasha back and confirmed the girl they had was indeed Bucky’s Flower. “They’re bringing her back. They should be here by tonight,” he informed him before turning to leave.

“Thank you,” he said in a voice that clearly wasn’t Bucky’s.

Steve faced the man and smiled. “Thank us when she’s back in your arms, Soldier.”

A few hours passed before Natasha called back. She’d tried asking Flower who she was and why they had her, but she insisted she didn’t know, only asking again about Bucky. In the end, Natasha had to resort to searching the files she copied before leaving.

“Y/N?” she asked, watching Flower’s head tilt in curiosity.

“You’ve been at it for hours and that’s all you got?” Tony groaned.

She shoved the laptop toward him, telling him he was more than welcome to try before turning her attention back to Flower. “Does that sound familiar?”

Her face scrunched in distaste. “I… think so?”

Though the girl hadn’t asked, Natasha began to tell her how they’d been looking for her on the Soldier’s behalf. She explained they were friends of his, and ensured that you were being taken somewhere safe.

“Uh, you might want to get Cap on the phone…” Tony trialed off.

Back at the compound, Steve called everyone into the conference room.

“We have a slight problem,” Steve said. He put the phone on speaker as everyone filed in. “Go on, Natasha.”

“Her name is Y/N L/N, and she’s been in Hydra’s custody since 1973.”

Everyone looked at each other in shock.

“The files are heavily encrypted and the one’s we’ve read don’t say much other than she was used to subdue the Asset. Given his behavior regarding her, her power over him extended to the emotional.”

“Does she have abilities?” Sam asked. “She must to have survived this long.”

“No clue. Again, there isn’t much and she’s not remembering anything except Barnes. For some reason they’re more secretive about her than they were about the Soldier.”

“Where did she come from?”

“That’s for you to find. We’ll be there in a few hours and we can keep trying to crack this.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Connecticut!” Sam called as he walked into the common room, catching everyone’s attention. “She was born to the L/N family in 1951, second daughter and the youngest of five children. Her parents reported her missing in 1964.” He handed out copies of a ‘missing’ poster the police department still had on file. “She went out for ice cream, and didn’t come home. She was never found.”

“Til now,” Wanda commented.

“Til now.”

“So they just took this girl off the street?” Bruce asked. “That doesn’t make sense. I mean, there had to be something about her for them to take her and keep her files as bare as possible.”

Wanda rubbed her temples, frustrated with the lack of information. “Nat said they had her since ’73. That’s nine years unaccounted for.”

Bruce shook his head, “She also said they’re being more careful about her. Maybe ’73 is just what’s on record.”

“What of her family?” Pietro looked on the young girl’s photo with sadness. “Were they affiliated in any way?”

“Nope. Her dad fought in the war while her mom worked as a seamstress and raised her oldest brother and sister. When her dad returned, two more brothers came along before she did. Aside from her disappearance, all seemed pretty ordinary. At least, all her siblings went on to live normal lives.”

“Are any still alive?” Wanda asked.

“Not sure.”

“Shouldn’t we try to contact them?” Steve finally spoke. “If not to find out if there was anything different about her, then to tell them she was found?”

“Yeah,” Sam raised a brow at him. “and show up with a girl in her 20s? How do you think that’s gonna go?”

“I agree,” Bruce cut in before Steve could respond. “She disappeared when she was 13, so they may not even recognize her. Nevermind that they’d probably be expecting someone in their 60s.”

“We could still question them, couldn’t we? We don’t even have to say we have a lead or anything, just that we’re looking to open some old cases.” When no one disagreed, he turned back to Sam. “Find them.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Everyone noticed the way Y/N froze as they were exiting onto the hangar, and were immediately on high alert.

“Calm down,” Natasha calmly but firmly ordered. “What’s wrong?”

“You said my soldier would be here,” she accused.

“He is. He’s inside.” Turning back to the people waiting, she asked, “What the hell are all you doing here?”

“She needs a medical exam, Agent.” Fury stressed. “And for the record, I never approved such a retrieval. Since she’s already here, you go by protocol from here on out.”

“How long will it be until she’s cleared?” Steve asked, arms crossed and jaw clenched.

“If she cooperates, it shouldn’t be more than a few days.”

“I promised Bucky he’d be with her by the end of the day.”

“Well, Captain, then you can tell him you were mistaken. Find whatever’s going on with that girl,” he ordered before storming out.

Y/N’s eyes widened when she saw the size of the needle the approaching orderly was carrying.

“I need you to hold her,” he said as she took a step back.

“No,” both Clint and Natasha said. Tony stepped away from her.

The orderly looked to Steve, who only shook his head. The other agents began to approach, pausing when the girl whispered something to Natasha.

“What’s going on?” one of the agents demanded.

“She’s afraid for you.” Natasha smiled at their confused expressions. “She said he’s going to kill you all.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Her cries were tearing him apart. He would face anything, endure anything, to keep her safe. The noises were drowned out by his own shouts as he struggled to free himself of his restraints. It was his fault; he wouldn’t cooperate, so they wanted to punish him by erasing him from her mind and doing who knows what else. A piercing scream threw him into a white hot rage. His body gave one final tug, snapping his bindings.

Everyone in the room turned from the thrashing girl as the door flew off its hinges, and scrambled when they saw murder in the Asset’s eyes. One by one, he snapped their necks, smashed their heads against walls, or beat them beyond recognition.

When all he could hear were her soft whimpers, he began to make soothing sounds as he approached. Gingerly removing her from the table, he hummed the song she’d been dancing to when he found her in an attempt to calm her. He pulled her to the floor and cradled her, begging her forgiveness and promising anyone that harmed her would never live to do so again.

From then on, every bruise, stumble, even a harsh word, someone answered for it. Whoever it was would just disappear, only to be found when others started noticing the smell of decay. It wasn’t long until word got out. People watched their tone when addressing her, stopped fighting back during training, and trainers quit calling her in altogether.

Separation became his form of punishment. After each reunion, he studied her carefully to ensure no one had been rough with her, even if she began getting harder to hurt and could heal almost as quickly as he could.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Soldier!”

Her voice snapped him from his memory and he stood rooted on the spot. His eyes flickered from her to the people surrounding her, wondering if they would let her go to him as promised, or if they would begin to make demands.

“Back against the wall,” Natasha ordered. Steve shot her a look and she added, “Please.”

He backed up as far as could, eyes no longer leaving his Flower. Clint opened the door to the chamber, and she looked around at them, unsure if she could move forward.

“It’s ok.” Steve smiled encouragingly, and tilted his head toward the Soldier. “Go on.”

With their blessing, she ran toward him and launched herself into his arms. They kissed passionately, causing the others to avert their eyes.

“They do know we can see them, right?” Tony asked, gagging at their moans.

The Soldier put her down and immediately started to look her over for injuries.

“I’m ok,” she whispered, not wanting the redhead to hear. “They put me in cryo alone, but I’m not hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” He pulled her into hug and buried his face in her neck, inhaling the scent he dearly missed and humming the tune from his memory.

“Guys?” Steve called apologetically. “We’re going to give you a couple of days to catch up, but after that, we’re gonna need you to try to remember why she was there.”

The Soldier gave him a curt nod. “Thank you.”

As they were leaving, Tony stopped to address them. “Remember there are cameras in there. Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want others seeing.”

“Don’t worry, little flower,” he released a low, throaty chuckle when she began looking around. “There’s no camera in the shower.”

~ ~ TAG LISTS ~ ~

Permanent -  @melconnor2007 @ria132love @psychicwitchphilosopher @sireennotsiren  @silence–in–the–library

Avengers - @majd943

Bucky - @cassandras-musings

[coilwind7-blog]

Rittenhouse Bar Fires Cook Targeted on Yelp, Facebook for Pro-Hitler Posts

City

We talked to the man who calls himself “so much more” than a Nazi — and the man who led the charge to get him tossed from his job.

Left: Accused “Nazi” Steven James Fullerton. (Photo provided.) Right: Oh! Shea’s Pub. (Photo via Google Maps)

Oh! Shea’s Pub is a casual, laid-back bar and restaurant on Sansom Street in Rittenhouse Square. You might go there to watch a game, throw back some pints with your colleagues. But that’s about it. Oh! Shea’s is just not, you know, the kind of bar that people talk about. But that all changed this week.

Over the past weekend, Oh! Shea’s became the subject of countless angry posts and comments on Facebook. There were threads on Reddit. Threats to boycott. Bad reviews left on Yelp.

Why? Because a cook at Oh! Shea’s had repeatedly published pro-Nazi and pro-Hitler comments and memes on Facebook. And on Wednesday, Oh! Shea’s fired the employee.

It all started with Old City resident Victor Shugart, seen here. The 25-year-old Drexel engineering student, a former U.S. Marine, loathes Nazis. According to Shugart, eight of his nine great-great-uncles on his mother’s side fought against the Nazis in World War II, and his Great-Great-Uncle Red was killed at the Battle of the Bulge after he stepped on a Nazi landmine. So when he saw that a man who seemed like a real-life Nazi was working at a restaurant in Rittenhouse Square, he decided to take action.

“It’s really a dumb story, how I found out,” Shugart tells Philly Mag. “I was up late one night on Facebook, and I saw Jim Kenney talking about how the city declared a state of emergency for Kensington because of the heroin problem. I’m reading through these comments, and I saw this one that really stood out. The guy said that we should just let all opioid users die.”

The guy was Steve Fullerton. Curious, Shugart clicked on the account, and he was shocked by what he found. On Fullerton’s page, there were photos of people giving the Nazi salute. Words and phrases like “Jewess” and “Jew-trickery” were being thrown around. There was a post blaming Africans for slavery. There was pro-Hitler rhetoric. And late in September, the cover photo for that Facebook profile was changed to a Nazi officer’s hat.

A few screenshots from Fullerton, used with his permission:

What Shugart also spotted on Facebook was that Fullerton listed Oh! Shea’s as his employer. So Shugart decided to pay Oh! Shea’s a visit on Sunday. He says that he went inside, ordered a beer, and asked the bartender why Oh! Shea’s was employing a “Nazi.” Shugart claims that the bartender told him that he’d have to leave if he said another word about it. Shugart finished his beer and left soon thereafter without further confrontation.

After Shugart visited the bar, Fullerton posted the following on Facebook: “Just had some stranger come to the bar and ask if I was here BY NAME. And told my co-worker that I was a Nazi and that he had proof. When I walked out, the stranger recognized me, but I didn’t know who he was. My co-worker told him to leave as soon as he saw me. #politicalassassination … But my co-workers have known that I write and read Nazi posts for the last ten years.” (An Oh! Shea’s manager tells Philly Mag that he doesn’t believe that anybody at Oh! Shea’s knew of Fullerton’s online life; Fullerton continues to maintain that they did.)

After that, Shugart and his friends started spreading word about Fullerton and Oh! Shea’s using Facebook, Reddit and other online platforms. He says he left reviews on Yelp to warn Oh! Shea’s customers.

And once word got out, others starting leaving negative Yelp reviews as well. When we checked the Oh! Shea’s Yelp page on Wednesday afternoon, there were three one-star Yelp reviews left there on Tuesday and Wednesday that refer to the “Nazi” in the kitchen. “The owner employees a NAZI that brags about his white supremacists views,” wrote one Yelper. “Disgusting!!!”

Philly Mag spoke with several people who live or work in the area of Oh! Shea’s who said that they were disturbed by the information that Shugart was circulating. One said that Oh! Shea’s was the watering hole of choice for his office. But not anymore. Not after this. Another said that they’d never go in Oh! Shea’s again, even if Fullerton got fired. (None of these other people were willing to use their names, due to fear for their safety.)

And getting Fullerton fired was exactly Shugart’s endgame.

“400,000 Americans died in a war so that we could all agree that Nazism can be thrown into the trash can of history,” Shugart tells Philly Mag. “This guy does not deserve to work in Philadelphia. What does this guy do to the food of people he thinks should be exterminated? What does he do in that kitchen when an order comes in for the Untermensch?”

“So people who you say are Nazis shouldn’t be allowed to work?” I ask Shugart.

“Listen, if you want to hire a Nazi, I get to tell the world that you hire Nazis,” he retorts. “You wanna keep him employed? I get to tell every person I know not to eat or drink at your pub.”

Shugart says that he is pro-free speech. And he insists that he’s not going to target anybody who comes along that he simply disagrees with or whose views he finds offensive.

“I understand that there are conservatives out there and that we disagree,” says Shugart. “But I’m not going to get somebody fired over that. But can we just agree that there is zero room for Nazism in a country that my relatives fought the Nazis for? And a country that I’ve fought for? He may be legally protected by the Constitution. But this isn’t a legal problem. It’s a social one. He’s not welcome in our society with these beliefs.”

On Wednesday afternoon, an Oh! Shea’s manager confirmed for us that Fullerton had been fired due to his online posts. “You just can’t put crazy shit on the Internet and not expect it to come back to you,” another Oh! Shea’s employee said.

Reached on Wednesday evening, Fullerton was not exactly apologetic or remorseful about his posts. And he didn’t seem to care that he was out of a job. He said that it wasn’t a “serious job” and that he was looking forward to collecting unemployment. He called me “gay” and a “commie” and added that “it’s a bad time to be a commie in Trump’s America.”

I asked him flat out if Shugart was correct in calling him a Nazi.

“I am far more than that,” he replied.

I prompted him to explain his offensive Facebook posts.

“I’m looking for my Blutfahne,” was his response.

After I spoke with Fullerton, Shugart took to Facebook to alert his friends and followers that Oh! Shea’s “did the right thing.”

“Whoever says direct action doesn’t work hasn’t tried it,” he wrote. “I appealed to their sense of morality, and they listened. So here’s one for doing the right thing in the world, and a thank you to the management at Oh! Shea’s for standing up and fixing what needed fixing.”

Source: https://www.phillymag.com/news/2018/10/11/oh-sheas-philadelphia-nazi/