Summary: A/U. After heartbreak, loss, and healing, special education teachers and long-time best friends James Barnes and Lia Accorsi found their way to each other. Where will life take them now that they have already weathered terrible storms?
Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, OFC Lia Accorsi
Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluffity fluff, sweetness and SMUT. This is definitely NSFW 18+ I’m serious!
Word Count: 3200
A/N: Thank you to everyone who read, commented, reblogged, and generally showed mad love for “Love Among the Little Chairs.” I felt wonderful writing it, and knew it had to continue, so for now, here’s the next part of Lia and James’s story. I hope you laugh, smile, blush, and love it like I do. Thank you! – Steph
Summary: AU – Lizzie is a confident fat chick who doesn’t flaunt or apologize for it. One night after she sang a particularly challenging number during her birthday party, she was approached by the most gorgeous man she’d ever met, whose attention she took for kindness, not interest. Thanks to the people who love her, he finds her on Tinder and though she is skeptical of his motives, she decides to swipe right.
Warnings: Fluff fluff fluffiness, some swearing, frank talk of body image, but nothing too bad! If you don’t like karaoke, this isn’t for you! LOL
I couldn’t resist bringing AU Steve into Lizzie’s world. He’s just so adorable. MANY MANY thanks to @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan for encouraging and beta-ing for me. She’s such a gift in my life.
Summary: AU – Lizzie is a confident fat chick who doesn’t flaunt or apologize for it. One night after she sang a particularly challenging number during her birthday party, she was approached by the most gorgeous man she’d ever met, whose attention she took for kindness, not interest. Thanks to the people who love her, he finds her on Tinder and though she is skeptical of his motives, she decides to swipe right.
Warnings: Fluff fluff fluffiness, some swearing, frank talk of body image, but nothing too bad! If you don’t like karaoke, this isn’t for you! LOL
I couldn’t resist bringing AU Steve into Lizzie’s world. He’s just so adorable. MANY MANY thanks to @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan for encouraging and beta-ing for me. She’s such a gift in my life.
“Nope. Not doing it. I don’t care what you say, there is NOTHING that will convince me that I should do this.” You weren’t pouting or upset, just resolute in your beliefs.
You looked at your sister, Tina, and her girlfriend Jaime, whose faces were simultaneously dejected and devilish.
Summary: Did Bucky make it out alive? Word Count: 1,708 Warnings: Angst, blood, and violence Author’s Note: I want to thank everyone for coming on this journey with me. It’s been amazing and I can’t wait to get started on the follow up! @captain-rogers-beard & @climbthatmooselikeatree you are two amazing besties and I couldn’t do this without you. Thank you. GIF credit.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
Protecting Y/N had been Bucky’s job, his number one priority.
“Above all else, keep Y/N safe,” Steve had ordered. So how had Bucky not noticed the trip wire? If he had missed that, how many other things had he overlooked?
With his teeth grinding, he shoved the gun into his holster, ripped the phone from his pocket, and grabbed Y/N’s arm tight, hauling her down the stairs alongside him, probably hurting her, but he didn’t care. He would care later, when they were safe, when Y/N was safe.
The call connected two rings later. “I’m taking her to the backup location,” he grit out. “The place is rigged to blow.”
“Did Y/N go inside?” Steve demanded to know, his voice tight.
She was saying his name, begging him to slow down, but Bucky paid her no attention, shaking his head as he continued moving hurriedly down the stairs. “Negative, Steve. Y/N saw it before I did.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve roared, making Bucky pull the phone from his ear.
“Everything is fine, Steve,” Bucky promised. “We’re almost to the garage. As soon as we’re at the backup location, I’ll let you know.”
Without waiting for an answer, he handed the phone to Y/N, keeping himself focused on getting her out of there, keeping her safe. Level by level, they quickly descended to the parking garage. With the push of a button, lights flashed on the car that Bucky had unlocked, shoving her inside a moment later.
In their seats and both seat belts buckled, Y/N handed Bucky his phone. Less than a minute later the car was speeding out of the garage and onto the nearly-empty streets, Bucky expertly shifting through the gears of the expensive machine. He checked and double checked everything as he drove; watching for pedestrians and openings in the minimal traffic, shortcuts that he could take, making sure that no one was following the pair of them.
Despite what was happening, Bucky couldn’t help but notice the way Y/N’s hands had started to shake. With a huff of air out his nose, he covered her hands with one of his and gave them a squeeze.
“It’s going to be okay, Y/N,” he vowed. “We’re going to get that son of a bitch.”
“You keep saying that. What if -”
“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head, determination taking hold of him. “We will get him, and trust me, he’ll suffer.”
While Bucky focused on the road, Y/N had fallen asleep. He didn’t blame her, adrenaline can take quite a toll on the body. It also gave him a silent permission to not have his focus divided. That was when he noticed a car, sedan, dark, about a quarter mile back.
Son of a bitch.
The engine roared into overdrive when he stomped on the gas pedal. With one hand gripping the steering wheel and his eyes fixed on the rearview mirror, he called out for her, waking her up. He could see the fear radiating off of her as she registered the urgency in his voice. She whirled around in her seat just as the sedan started to change lanes.
“Lose him, Buck,” she begged.
“I’m tryin’, doll,” was his growl of an answer. His feet punched the pedals as he shifted once more, the speedometer flying well into triple digits, pulling away from the sedan slowly.
“Oh, thank God.”
By the time he realized what was happening, it was too late.
“Jesus,” Bucky hissed, his eyes going wide. “Hold on!”
Tires squealed against the asphalt as Bucky slammed on the brakes, turning at the waist to shield her as best as he could, his arms wrapping tight around her, doing his damndest to protect her from the car that was barrelling towards the luxury car.
Every inch of Bucky was in agony, but his legs, God, his legs, that was almost unbearable. It was the pain that woke him, pulled him from the pitch of unconsciousness. He didn’t know where he was or how long he had been there, and as much as part of himself wanted to panic, to cry out for help, he knew better. He just needed to keep his head long enough to find Y/N.
A gritty voice broke through the thick silence and, even though he knew that following the voice could lead him to something worse than two broken legs, he rolled over to his stomach. It was going to hurt like hell, but Bucky didn’t have a choice. He used his elbows to drag himself across the dirty concrete floor.
It felt like an eternity passed before he was close enough to decipher what was happening. When he saw Y/N, tied to a chair, bloodied and crying, the blood in his veins boiled.
“Straight to the point,” the man that had to be Brock laughed. “I like that about you, Steve. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you don’t have anything that I want. Not anymore.”
The sharp slap of Brock’s hand on Y/N’s face echoed through the room, but her shriek cut through it, sending goosebumps down the back of Bucky’s neck.
A barking laugh left Brock, and it made Bucky’s stomach roll. “Fuck, you’re a smart one, ain’t ya? Alright, alright, you caught me. I want money, Steve, and a lot of it.”
Bucky searched around him for something, anything he could use as a weapon. The gun in his holster was gone, but not the blade he kept tucked to his belt.
“I’ll go away if you pay me to go away.”
He tried to catch Y/N’s eye, to let her know that she wasn’t alone, but she was crying too hard.
“God, you sound like you miss her or somethin’,” Brock laughed again.
Shit. There was nothing he could do but lay there and watch.
Brock sighed heavily into the phone. “Ten million, cash, in a suitcase, three hours. I’ll call you with a location.” The call was disconnected a moment later.
“Why, Brock?” she croaked, tears streaking through the dirt and blood on her face.
“You know the old cliche, doll,” he grinned salaciously. “If I can’t have you…” his gritty voice trailed off and he licked his lips hungrily.
“No,” Y/N argued, ripping her head from his grip. “I will never be with you.”
With a snarl, Brock tangled his hand in her hair and yanked you toward him, his lips brushing against hers when he said, “You’ve always been mine.” And then he was kissing her savagely, forcing his tongue into her mouth and moaning when she started struggling.
Bucky almost gave a triumphant shout when she bit his lip hard, drawing blood from it. He ripped away and swiped away the crimson drops with his thumb. “You’re gonna pay for that, you little bitch.” Brock slapped her again, much harder than the first time, drawing blood with the help of a ring he wore.
“Don’t… fucking… hurt her,” he managed to grind out pitifully, pulling himself further along the concrete.
Brock rolled his eyes as he whirled around. “What are you gonna do about it, Bucky?”
“I’m going to kick your ass,” he vowed, venom lacing his words.
“I’d love to see you try.” Brock strolled over, smirking as Bucky grabbed one of his ankles. He wrenched free from Bucky’s grip, using the momentum to kick Bucky in the face. The cartilage in his nose snapped at the impact, and he was unable to keep from falling into unconsciousness.
The next time he woke, it was because Brock was howling in pain. His eyes opened to see Brock with a gun under Y/N’s chin.
“Don’t fuckin’ move,” Brock sneered darkly.
“Easy, Brock.” It was Steve, trying desperately to diffuse the situation.
“Shut it, Rogers,” Brock ordered, the sound of the hammer cocking echoing loudly in the room.
Grunting in frustration, Bucky knew he had to do something. Despite the pain that surged through him, the blood that blurred his vision, he put everything he had into pulling himself closer to Brock, the blade between his teeth. It helped, biting down on the blade. It kept the pain at bay, just long enough to stab Brock behind his kneecap. With the last bit of strength he had, he yanked the blade free and glared at Brock as the man fell to the ground.
It was almost twelve weeks before Bucky was walking… limping around without his casts. Sure, he needed a cane and it took him almost twice as long to get anyplace, but he was alive. As was Y/N, thank God.
After multiple surgeries, weeks of recovery followed by physical therapy, Bucky was more than ready to get back to work. Even if it was something as mundane as watching the security feed. He prayed Steve wouldn’t do that to him.
Steve was waiting for him, front door of the newly-purchased home wide open, a cup of steaming coffee in his hands. “Hiya, Buck,” he greeted his friend, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “How ya doin’?”
Bucky chuckled, a genuine smile pulling at his lips for the first time in a long time. “Not bad.”
“You look good,” Steve said, standing to the side so Bucky could enter the house.
“I feel good.” Once inside, Bucky let out a low whistle. “Let me guess, Y/N did the decorating?”
“Why do you say that?”
Bucky looked at his friend with an arched brow. “Because if it had been you, it’d be shades of grey and blue, and technology everywhere. This,” he waved his hand at the warmly decorated interior, “is welcoming and rustic. It feels like a home.”
There was a screech of excitement coming from the next room. Y/N emerged a moment later and broke out into a wide smile as her eyes settled on the man that saved her life. “It’s so good to see you,” she sighed as she crossed the room and hugged Bucky tight.
“You, too,” he agreed, returning the hug with one arm, pressing a friendly kiss to her cheek. “Now, what’s a man gotta do to get a job around here?”
Summary: James “Bucky” Barnes comes from a highly esteemed lineage of vampire hunters. Being the newest generation’s hunter, he’s responsible for keeping the supernatural world a secret and ensuring the survival of humanity. After losing his arm in a hunt gone wrong, Bucky wants nothing to do with his preordained destiny. Fighting alongside Bucky is his best friend and confidant, Steven Rogers, a priest with a direct line to the Vatican, and Bucky’s only saving grace. Can Steve talk some sense into his friend, convince him that the world needs him? You’re damned, destined to spend the rest of your life sulking in the shadows, wallowing in your own self pity. Everything changes one night when you come face-to-face with Bucky Barnes. Will he save you or put you out of your misery? Word Count: 1,151 Warnings for the series: Alternate universe, blood, gore, violence, language, possible smut, PTSD, nightmares, more to come as series continues Author’s Note: The idea stemmed from this post by @itsstillnotwhatyouthink I hope I do it justice. Want a tag? Let me know. A huge shoutout to @captain-rogers-beard & @climbthatmooselikeatree for all of your invaluable help. I love you. GIF credit.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
Archbishop Strange was shaking his head in disbelief, bent over, hands spread out on his desk, his jaw clenched. “Tell me what happened one more time,” was his instruction to Bucky.
“I don’t know how, but Ronan knew we were coming,” the slayer sighed wearily, hands in his lap, eyes unmoving, taking in the sight of Steve’s blood on his skin, dried into the tactical gear he was still wearing. “It wasn’t me he was after, it was Steve.”
“How did that happen?”
Bucky rolled his eyes and raised his head to stare at the man across from him. “You tell me.”
Stephen’s head snapped up. “What did you just say?”
“You tell me,” Bucky repeated himself. “Steve and I came here to help you find a killer, all because the Pope supposedly smeared my name on the wall with his blood.”
“Are you implying -”
“I know that you’re lying about something, Stephen,” Bucky said with a sneer, pushing out of the chair. “I just don’t know what it is yet.”
Strange recoiled at Bucky’s casual use of his first name, squared his shoulders, and smoothed the front of his shirt. After taking a moment to collect himself, he calmly stated, “Your objective hasn’t changed, Barnes. Find Ronan and kill him.”
“What about Steve?”
“If he’s alive, save him,” Strange instructed him calmly.
Bucky scoffed loud enough that his throat hurt. “If he’s alive? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Watch your language, young man,” the Archbishop ground out, his eyes flashing.
He had had enough. “Fuck you,” Bucky snapped, spinning on his heel and marching out of the room, slamming the thick door as hard as he could. He couldn’t help but smirk when he heard the crack of wood.
Natasha was waiting for Bucky in the debriefing room. “What’d he say?”
“Bunch’a bullshit,” was his grumble of an answer.
“Tell me what he said, Buck,” she demanded, brow arched, painted nail pointed at his chest.
“Find Ronan and kill him,” Bucky answered through gritted teeth.
Something dark and murderous flashed in her eyes. “And Steve?”
“That’s the bullshit part, Nat.” Bucky pushed passed his ex and strode over to the kitchenette. Inside one of the cupboards was a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. After setting them on the table, he filled them both, and signaled for Nat to sit down.
She went to argue, but a glare from Bucky was all it took to keep her quiet. When she sat down, Bucky told her exactly what the Archbishop had said regarding Steve.
“He said what, now?” She was seething, her fist slamming onto the table, smoke theoretically pouring from her ears and nose. “That son of a bitch.”
“I’m saying,” Bucky snorted. He sucked down the rest of his whiskey in the next breath. “I swear, there’s something more going on that he’s not telling us.”
With a wicked smirk, Nat’s eyes flashed. “So, let’s find out.”
Steve’s head hurt, he was hungry and thirsty, his throat was raw, and everything around him smelled like death. He wanted to vomit, rid himself of the bile that was rising in his throat, but it wouldn’t do any good. His stomach was too empty, his body was too weak, his mind was too jumbled, too much information was rattling around, conflicting information, memories that felt phony.
He had cried after Y/N had bared the official mark of the Pope to him. After the initial tears came the anger, white-hot and all-consuming. Everything he knew, everything he had been taught, it was all a lie. He had given his entire life to the church, handed it over without a second thought, and now he wanted nothing more than to watch it burn to the ground.
“Why me?” he croaked, eyes trained on the vampire in the far corner. “Why did Ronan take me?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “You’d have to ask him.”
“I’m asking you,” Steve spat, his hands balling into fists.
Y/N raked a hand through her greasy hair and sighed. “I don’t know.”
“You’re lying, Y/N,” he groaned, raking a hand over his face.
“I’m not,” she tried to argue. The only problem with her argument was that Steve had known her for years, practically his whole childhood. If there was one thing he knew about her, it was when she was lying.
Steve laughed, the sound of it raw and gritty. “You still got that fucking tic, Y/N.”
“Padre,” she admonished. “Such language.”
“No, you don’t get to call me that.” He was gritting his teeth so hard he was sure they would crack. “Just tell me.”
“Why not ask me yourself,” Ronan purred, emerging from the shadows, staff in hand.
To his credit, Steve didn’t jump. He craned his neck, wincing at the stab of pain at the base of his skull. “Look who decided to join the party,” he chuckled.
“My apologies,” he murmured, holding a hand over his heart and tipping his head. “I’ve been busy. Have you two gotten to know each other?”
With a pain-filled grunt, Steve stood, using the bars for leverage. “Y/N and I go way back, Ronan.”
“Is that so?” He didn’t sound the least bit surprised. “Care to elaborate?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Steve huffed. “You’re a mass murderer, not a professional liar.”
Ronan chuckled, deep and dark, predatory. “You’re right about that, Steven. Now, why don’t we get you out of that cage and away from the monster.”
Y/N snarled angrily. “Don’t talk about me like that, Ronan.” Her eyes flashed electric blue as his name rolled off her tongue.
“Hurt your feelings, love?” he chuckled, his fingers drumming against one of the bars.
“I don’t have feelings, remember?” she cooed, standing tall, her shoulders straight, hands held behind her back. “You told me that.”
Ronan leveled the woman with a cool glare. “Oh, mother,” he sighed wearily. “I’ve told you many things over the years, but to say that you are anything but empathetic would be an outright lie.”
“Mo- mother?” Steve stuttered, staring hard at Y/N, his eyes going wide a moment later as clarity crashed upon his shoulders.
“Damn,” Ronan ground out. “I was hoping to save that bit of information for later.”
“Still doesn’t explain why I’m here,” the priest rasped, unwilling to take his eyes off of Ronan. Steve’s mind was running rampant, there was too much new information, too many truths had been revealed in such a small amount of time. He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last.
Ronan chuckled low and dark. “Straight to the point, I like that. Oh, alright, I suppose there is no point in dragging this out any longer than it already has.”
Y/N stalked across the cell, the chain dragging behind her. “He wants you to turn me back, Steve.”
Summary: A/U. After heartbreak, loss, and healing, special education teachers and long-time best friends James Barnes and Lia Accorsi found their way to each other. Where will life take them now that they have already weathered terrible storms?
Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, OFC Lia Accorsi
Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluffity fluff, sweetness and SMUT. This is definitely NSFW 18+ I’m serious!
Word Count: 3250
A/N: Thank you to everyone who read, commented, reblogged, and generally showed mad love for “Love Among the Little Chairs.” I felt wonderful writing it, and knew it had to continue, so for now, here’s the next part of Lia and James’s story. I hope you laugh, smile, blush, and love it like I do. Thank you! – Steph
Oh @stevieang there is so much tooth-rotting fluff in this series that I’m almost scared of what’s going to happen next. Is the other shoe going to drop? Will something happen to keep them apart? Or will they get the happy ending they both deserve? Because, either way, I’m here for it.
Summary: A/U. After heartbreak, loss, and healing, special education teachers and long-time best friends James Barnes and Lia Accorsi found their way to each other. Where will life take them now that they have already weathered terrible storms?
Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, OFC Lia Accorsi
Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluffity fluff, sweetness and SMUT. This is definitely NSFW 18+ I’m serious!
A/N: Thank you to everyone who read, commented, reblogged, and generally showed mad love for “Love Among the Little Chairs.” I felt wonderful writing it, and knew it had to continue, so for now, here’s the next part of Lia and James’s story. I hope you laugh, smile, blush, and love it like I do. Thank you! – Steph
The last month of school was interminable for both teachers and students, both of whom were in desperate need of time away from each other and from school. Special education had its own particular brand of stress, as each student made gains relative to their own skills, rarely meeting those set by far-away boards of education or curriculum creators. That didn’t stop their parents from wanting their kids to be “normal,” wanting them to keep up with typical brothers and sisters and cousins and friends’ children. For some of her students, the gap between themselves and neurotypical children didn’t close, but became increasingly obvious as time marched on. Lia’s goal was to maximize each child’s learning abilities and give them as many skills as she could. Sometimes that meant repeating something 10 times in 10 different ways, sometimes 100, sometimes somewhere in the middle. No matter the number, no matter how much she had to simplify her lessons, it was Lia’s job to make them learners. It was also her job to help their parents learn what that meant for their child. This meant meeting after meeting, many frantically scheduled after a parent’s late-night freak out and the resulting email or phone call.
The more meetings that piled up during the day the longer she had to stay at night to get her other work completed. Her initial goal when she returned to teaching was to work smarter and not as long. This was not possible at the end of the year, and she felt the impact. She was increasingly sensitive to light, short-tempered with adults, and often had headaches. She needed a new prescription for her glasses and kept her classroom quiet after hours, rather than filled with music as it usually was. The support team that worked with her and James’s classes brought their concerns to her boyfriend, who was unanimously nominated to “talk to her.” He sighed deeply as he sat at his desk and planned his approach, not noticing Lia was watching him from their shared doorway. She knocked softly, not wanting to startle him, and he finally turned to her, a small, sweet smile on his lips.
Summary: James “Bucky” Barnes comes from a highly esteemed lineage of vampire hunters. Being the newest generation’s hunter, he’s responsible for keeping the supernatural world a secret and ensuring the survival of humanity. After losing his arm in a hunt gone wrong, Bucky wants nothing to do with his preordained destiny. Fighting alongside Bucky is his best friend and confidant, Steven Rogers, a priest with a direct line to the Vatican, and Bucky’s only saving grace. Can Steve talk some sense into his friend, convince him that the world needs him? You’re damned, destined to spend the rest of your life sulking in the shadows, wallowing in your own self pity. Everything changes one night when you come face-to-face with Bucky Barnes. Will he save you or put you out of your misery? Word Count: 1,678 Warnings for the series: Alternate universe, blood, gore, violence, language, possible smut, PTSD, nightmares, more to come as series continues Author’s Note: The idea stemmed from this post by @itsstillnotwhatyouthink I hope I do it justice. Want a tag? Let me know. A huge shoutout to @captain-rogers-beard & @climbthatmooselikeatree for all of your invaluable help. I love you. GIF Credit.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
Bucky’s heart lurched to a stop when Ronan said, “Please come out and join us, Mr. Barnes and guest. I’ve been expecting you.”
Natasha was shaking her head, her eyes wide, her hand squeezing the grip of her pistol, but Bucky never was one for taking orders. He clenched his jaw and stepped out of the shadows, rounding the corner of the frame and striding into the room, gun in his hand, next to his thigh, hammer pulled back, safety off, a bullet in the chamber.
“Ronan,” Bucky greeted coolly. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but my mom taught me not to lie.”
The mass murderer laughed richly as he turned to face the slayer. Both of his nieces had weapons in their hands as they each took a defensive stance. Seeing their actions, Ronan gave a wave of his hand.
“Gamora, Nebula, there’s no need for that,” he chastised. “Bucky, if I may call you that, is just here to talk. Isn’t that right?”
“Not sure your definition of talk is the same as mine,” Bucky deadpanned, his grip flexing on the sig sauer pistol. “But sure, let’s talk.”
He moved lightning fast, raising his arm, firing his weapon three times, rapid fire, aiming at Ronan’s chest. Ronan moved with such speed and grace, it completely took Bucky by surprise.. Bucky snarled angrily as the bullets flew into the wall, the aged wood splintering, flying through the air. Natasha came flying out of her spot, gun raised, pulling the trigger, swearing crudely as she rushed Gamora, who had hoisted the blade over her head, aiming it at Bucky. Nebula was yelling something that couldn’t be heard over the gunfire, over the grunts and groans of close quarters combat.
While it was Bucky and Ronan going head-to-head, both Nebula and Gamora were taking on Nat. Bucky wasn’t worried about his ex, she could more than handle herself. What he was worried about was the man in front of him, Ronan, and how he was able to evade the deadliest punches and kicks, even from the metal arm. It briefly crossed Bucky’s mind that there was something was definitely different about Ronan, but Steve’s voice was in Bucky’s ear, in Nat’s ear, and he was putting up a hell of a fight on his end.
“Buck, I can’t hold him off much longer,” Steve ground out through his teeth. He was winded, having overexerted himself by going toe-to-toe with the man that had tried sneaking up on the surveillance vehicle.
“What’s he look like, Stevie?” Bucky demanded to know, his back curving as he bent over backwards as Ronan swung an odd looking staff through the air.
Steve was panting heavily, grunting with each punch he threw and blocked. “Five feet ten, blue eyes.” One of the attacker’s punches hit Steve in the temple, making stars burst behind his eyes.
“Talk to me,” Bucky shouted, giving Ronan a kick to the chest, putting everything he had into it. Ronan flew through the front door and slid in the dirt.
“I uh, he’s… he’s strong,” Steve coughed, falling to his hands and knees.
With Ronan outside, Bucky spun around and ran across the room, pulling Nebula off of Nat’s back. She was all long legs and gangly limbs, agile as all hell, and fucking feisty. She ended up tangling her hand in Bucky’s hair and pulling as hard as she could.
Bucky roared in pain and sent his fist into her ribs a handful of times. “You got this, padre. Tell me more about ‘im.”
“Grey hair on his chin, wonky teeth,” Steve rasped, and Bucky could practically see him as he was trying to push off the ground. “Bald, using metallic arrows as a weapon.”
Natasha was on Gamora’s back, a garrote around her neck, her blood-smeared lips pulling back in a snarl as she used every ounce of strength to choke Ronan’s niece. “We’re coming in a minute,” she swore to her friend.
“Take him down, Yondu,” Ronan ordered, standing tall, wiping blood from his nose with the back of his hand, a dark glimmer in his eyes.
A pained grunt tore its way out of Steve in such a way that Bucky swore he felt it at the back of his head and tears filled Nat’s eyes. Gamora and Nebula were on the ground, bloodied and beaten, gasping for air as Bucky and Nat took them down, a fresh wave of adrenaline flooding through them. They then fled the building the way they had come. Bucky used his longer legs and handy-dandy slayer abilities to run harder and faster than Nat could possibly dream of doing.
“Steve!” he roared, fear holding tight onto his heart, its long fingers squeezing with each beat.
The surveillance van was completely shot up, so many holes in it that it could be used as a giant cheese grater. The back doors had been blown off by some low-grade explosive, placed at each of the hinges on both sides, and one in the middle where the handle had been. Every monitor had been destroyed, the table was no longer standing, and the blood, shit, it was everywhere.
Nat gasped as she stopped next to Bucky, her hand finding his and squeezing it. “Where is he, Buck?”
Bucky grit his teeth and shook his head. “I don’t know, but when I find out, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”
Steve let out a low groan as he swam through the heavy layers of unconsciousness. His entire body pulsed in agony, but the spot that hurt the most was on the back of his head, just below his hairline. Reaching back, he hissed as his fingers brushed over the large knot. When he opened his eyes to look at his bloody fingers, his vision swam, which made his stomach turn upside down. He was on his hands and knees, retching, his back arching, his eyes bulging, every abused muscle flexing until he could vomit no more.
Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, Steve dropped back, groaning out a prayer.
“That won’t help,” a woman murmured from the other side of the room.
Doing his best to ignore the surge of pain in his head, Steve’s head whipped around as he sought her out. “Who… who said that?”
“I did,” she answered, her voice a little louder than before. She didn’t move from her spot, just tipped her head and stared at him with electric blue eyes.
With his brows knitted together, Steve turned around and, careful to avoid the mess he had made, crawled slowly toward her. “Who are you?”
“Don’t, please,” she pleaded, fear taking control of her voice. “I beg you, do not come any closer.”
Despite her weak protest, he didn’t stop his approach. Familiarity was brushing against his brain and he tried to reach out to it, to put the pieces together, but everytime he was just about there, it ducked away, evading him further.
“I… I know you. How do I know you?”
She was crying then, knees under her chin, arms wrapped around her legs, curling in on herself. “Steve, please. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh, God,” he lamented when it finally clicked. “Y/N, is that you?”
“Please,” she sobbed, her eyes flashing inhumanely bright in the small room. “You… you need to… stop it!”
Steve had been reaching out for her, to push the limp and greasy hair from her face, to get a good look at her features, when she snarled at him, all sharp teeth and hunger in her eyes.
“Jesus,” he hissed, pulling his hand away and working his way back the way he had come. “What happened to you?” he asked only when he was on the other side of the room, his back pressed against the thick bars, his heart hammering in his chest.
Y/N snapped her teeth together hungrily as she stood, a metal chain scraping against the concrete floor as she stood. “You and that brat Barnes released me, that’s what fuckin’ happened. I was perfectly fine being beat up and tortured on the daily, but you two just couldn’t help yourselves.”
“They wanted us to kill you, Y/N,” Steve tried explaining vehemently, just as he had that night.
“And I would have welcomed it,” she screamed, tears streaming down her face. “You think I wanted to become a vampire, to spend the rest of my days drinking blood, to be… to be damned for all of eternity?”
Steve shook his head. “They told me, us, that you sought out the chance to become -”
“They created me,” she roared, her voice hoarse from countless hours of begging, screaming for her release. “They ripped me away from my family, from everything I knew and loved, and… turned me into this monster.”
“Who did?” he demanded to know, his brain working overtime to compensate for the pain that was making it difficult to keep his eyes open.
Y/N scoffed in disbelief. “The men you have spent your entire life looking up to and emulating, Steve.”
“No, that’s not -”
“Not what, the truth?” She rolled her bright eyes as she strode slowly across the room, stopping only when the shackle around her neck prevented her from going further. As it was, if she reached out her hand, the tips of her fingers were less than three inches from Steve’s knees.
“It can’t be,” he insisted. “They… they wouldn’t… couldn’t do that.”
“They can, and they did,” she snapped, a white-hot anger replacing the cold tendrils of fear that had been there moments ago.
Exposing her teeth in a snarl, Y/N latched onto the hem of her shirt and raised it, exposing a brand on her ribs, just below the swell of her breast. With his eyes narrowed and morbid curiosity surging through him, Steve leaned forward just enough to see it clearly.
There it was, in decades old red and white scar tissue, the seal of the Pope.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC | Word Count: 4678 Warnings: Language and snark
An hour later, Penny opened the door and came face to face with a seething Bucky.
“You don’t ever lock me outta a room again!”
The anger on him had Penny cringing back. Shocked by the intensity and already exhausted from the medication, she hadn’t the energy nor the will to deal with him again.
“Please don’t yell at me,” she whispered. “Not right now.”
“Oh my god, I can’t believe you. We’re already back to this?”
While you spoke, Bucky laid his hands on the counter, hanging his head and huffing out a breath. He lifted his head and met your eyes, narrowing his own as he spoke.
“Because everything’s my fault, right?” “I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth.” “Why don’t you just go ahead and tell me what I can and can’t do?”
Your mouth fell open, and you shook your head.
“You’re such a bastard.”
Bucky let out a cold, bitter laugh.
“No kidding. But sweetheart, you’re not exactly a walk in the park.” “Guess I learned from the best.” “No arguments there.”
Your eyes were like fire when they met his.
“You see? I knew this was a bad idea. We’re no good for each other.”
Bucky nodded.
“At least we agree on something.”
You rolled your eyes, gathering your purse and walking towards the door. Bucky turned his back to you, crossing his arms over his wide chest, closing his eyes as the jolting boom of guns firing filled his ears.
Star Barnes' Writing Blog 