The Scarlett Widow
Bucky Barnes x Widow!Reader
Category: angst, smut, enemies to lovers, slow burn.
Synopsis: After Natasha Romanoff destroyed the Red Room, the Widows were set free, and peace was brought to the innocent stolen by Draykov. However, she forgot the one thing keeping the torturous organization alive… the money. This story follows one of the Widows who didn’t get her freedom, or her life back. The Scarlett Widow’s ledger gushes red in her mission to wipe every trace of the Red Room off the earth, but when Bucky Barnes and Captain America are sent to stop her bloodthirsty quest, love is the last thing she expects to find.
A/N: I have been holding onto this baby since Black Widow came out last year. I poured my whole heart into this fic. It’s significantly darker than anything I’ve written before, and each chapter will have individual warnings. It’s completed, and I will try to post a chapter every week.
I hope you enjoy! Reblogs and comments are appreciated.
Chapter 1 warnings: talk about the Red Room (forced hysterectomy, abuse, mind control), choking (not the fun kind), nightmares, violence, flirting, Bucky’s unhinged, fight between reader and Bucky, bruising, injuries, talks of death, alcohol consumption, blood, talks of past assaults to reader (unwanted groping).
18+ ONLY! BY SELECTING READ MORE YOU ARE CONFIRMING YOU ARE OF AGE!
The Scarlett Widow, that’s the name the media had given you, though it ground your gears to no end. That was your past, and you’d rather not be associated with anything to do with the Black Widow name, especially after Natasha Romanoff’s success. You were one of the many young women taken in by Draykov, stolen from your peaceful home in the countryside and forced into a life of violence and pain, stripped of any sort of normalcy and happiness. The Red Room was no place for anyone, let alone a small town girl who was loved by her parents, living a full life, doing things kids were supposed to do. Your body was turned into a weapon, your mind poisoned under the control of the old man with a God complex, trying to steal every last drop of hope in your young heart.
When Yelena sought out to find the rest of the Widows to free them of the Red Room’s control, she had stumbled into you in Sokovia, set out on a blood thirsty mission to kill an elected official, per Draykov’s request before his death. The fight between you two was brutal, ending in a few broken bones and lots of blood before she crushed the glass vile, dispersing the crimson powder into the air, letting it wash over you and pull you out of his spell. It flipped your world upside down, leaving you in a constant state of confusion, guilt and anger. You’d aways remember the conversation after the darkness left your eyes, as Yelena knelt down in front of you, gripping your trembling body in her hands as reality hit you like a freight train.
“What happens now?” You asked her, tears streaming down your bruised face as you gripped her sides, her face inches from hers as you both recovered from the fight.
“You’re free.” She whispered, giving you a sympathetic smile before you wrapped your arms around her, clutching her for dear life as her words echoed through your aching skull. You were free, you had control of your life, your choices, but all you’d known for the past fifteen years was violence, what were you supposed to do now?
It took awhile, a lot of soul searching and alcohol to realize that all the darkness, the pain and the violence were your comfort zone, what you knew and were good at, but you didn’t want to be like them, to be like him. So you deiced to fight back, to seek out your own personal vendetta to take down everyone that had ties to the Red Room, all those that contributed to yours and the rest of the Widow’s sufferings.
That was five years ago, and you were still going strong. You used your training and skillsets to stay under the radar, and slowly, one by one, all those involved started to disappear. It was only a matter of time until someone took notice. Though you managed to stay anonymous, The Scarlett Widow became a well known name in the press, talkings of your killings and assassinations being whispered about around the globe.
And that’s what lead you here, on the top of an abandoned office building in Budapest, laid on your stomach on an old mattress, assault rifle in your hands, the hot morning sun beating down on your leather clad back as you peered into the scope at one of your most awaited targets. It was a well known local millionaire by the name of Richard Stone. Stone had been one of the biggest investors in the Red Room program, donating millions every year so the Widows could keep him protected in his illegal trade deals. You had been planning this kill for years, tracking his whereabouts like a cat stalking a mouse, waiting to pounce.
He was in the bank across the street, viewable from the windows of the manager’s office. He was sitting in a chair across from the manager, a sly grin on his smug face as he rambled on to the woman, running a hand through his slicked back hair. The sight of him made your stomach turn, remembering the missions you had been sent on to protect him. You tried to suppress the sickness that crept up your throat as he leaned forward in his chair, his hand on the marble desk.
“I got you now, asshole,” You whispered, aiming the rifle in line of his forehead, wrapping your finger around the trigger, finally about to kill the man who caused so much endless misery. Just as you started to squeeze the trigger, you saw a tall figured shadow cast next to you, and the cold metal of a gun pressed at the back of your skull.
“Put the gun down.” A gruff voice spoke behind you, pushing the gun harder against your skin.
You chuckled, slowly setting the rifle in your hands down beside you on the mattress. “How’d you find me?”
“Turn around, slowly, with your hands up.” He demanded, ignoring your question as he kicked your rifle away with his leather combat boot. You complied, slowly sitting up and turning to face him with your hands up. You scanned up his body, trying to make out who it was, but the sun was right behind his head, blinding you slightly as you looked up at him.
“I’ve got her on the roof,” The man grumbled, one hand pressed to the com in his ear, the other on the gun inches from your face. “Don’t move.” He spoke sternly, sliding a pair of sliver handcuffs from his jacket pocket.
You nodded, watching his every move as he slowly walked around you, the gun never leaving your head as he crouched down behind you. You waited until he set the gun in his lap, grabbing your wrists and pinning them behind your back. You kept a straight face, staying perfectly still as he hooked one cuff on your wrist.
Taking the opportunity, you threw your head back, clashing it against his skull and spinning around on one knee, grabbing the gun from his lap, standing and kicking him in the sternum, sending him flying back against the mattress. He looked up at you in shock, grabbing his chest as he coughed. The sun shined in his blue eyes, revealing the face of your opponent. James Buchanan Barnes. You pressed the heel of your boot into his ribs, the other foot beside his waist as you pushed the gun between his brows.
“You don’t want to do this, sweetheart,” He warned “You can’t run forever, we will catch up to you.”
“Don’t follow me if you want to live.” You said plainly, whacking the barrel of the gun against the side of his skull before running across the roof, slinging the gun over your shoulder as you grabbed the rope attached to the grapple hook you’d set up for an escape, sliding down to the ground.
“Damn it!” he cursed, holding the bloody side of his head as he got up, running to the edge of the roof as he watched you run on the ground. “Sam, I lost her, she’s on the run. I’m going after her,” Bucky spoke into the com, biting his lip as he eyed the distance between the rooftop and the ground, sucking in breath before he jumped down, his feet hitting the ground with a grunt.
You raced down the alleyways, panting as you dodged people, trying not to be seen as you outran the man on the roof. You knew who he was, he was the White Wolf, and you knew he was fast. You had mapped out the way back to your apartment, taking the less traveled path to avoid suspicion. Your heart hammered in your chest as your feet hit the gravel under you, the sweat dampening the leather combat suit you wore.
“Buck, I’ve got a heat signature. Take two lefts, she’s down the ally about to climb the fence.” Sam informed his colleague, flying above as Redwing tracked you.
Bucky followed the path as he listened for your footsteps, using his enhanced hearing to get close. He could faintly hear your ragged breaths you attempted to catch as you scanned the fence to find the best way over it without cutting yourself. He peeked around the corner, watching as you slide a pair of fingerless gloves on to protect your hands from the rust coated metal. He walked with feather light steps, using his stealth training to try and get leverage on you. Little did he know your hearing was almost as in tuned as his, trained to detect things everyday people couldn’t.
Focusing on the delicate crunches of his boots on the stones, you kept your back turned, sliding your hand to the knife holstered on your thigh as you waited for him to get closer. You could feel him nearing your back, the leather of his gloves crackling.
“I wouldn’t come any closer, Soldier.”
He froze, surprised by your awareness, again. He balled his hands into fists, tilting his head to the side as he scanned your every move. “You know who I am?” He asked, watching as you slid the knife from the holster, gripping it tightly as you turned to face him.
“Of course. You and new Captain America have been all over the news since you took down those what were they called? Flag smokers?”
“Smashers,” He stated, taking a step closer as he stood in a fighting pose, ready for you to strike.
“Whatever. Even if I didn’t know who you were, it’s a bit obvious.” You started to circle him slowly, holding your knife up. “I can hear your dog tags jingling, and your posture screams retired Soldier, let alone your stealth skills. Impressive, but not enough.”
He scoffed, his eyes trained on yours as you two circled, both of you trying to find a weak point to strike. “I don’t want to hurt you, though I am still a bit pissed at the concussion from that blow to the head you so generously gave me.” He stopped when you did, his eyes landing on the curved blade you white knuckled.
“Well, you came at me first.” You bit back with a smirk, noticing how he guarded his left side more than the right, leaving an opening around his ribs, perfect for a kick.
“You can’t keep killing like this. If you come with me, I may be able to work out a deal for you, help clean up your ledger enough to cut down jail time.” He bargained, licking his lips as you inched closer. He could hear your heart pounding in your chest, though there was an unsettling calmness to it, you weren’t scared, you were angry.
“That’s really sweet, but you can’t clean up that much red. You should know that, Soldat.” Your words dripped venom, a taunting tone to your voice as your eyes focused in on the strike you were ready to land.
Your words made him swallow, his mouth drying at the name he hadn’t heard in so many years, and wished he’d never have to hear again. Anger bubbled in his chest, mixing dangerously with the pain surfacing from the name. His lip curled into a snarl before he launched himself foreword, throwing a punch to your face which you dodged effortlessly, taking the opportunity and kicking the unguarded spot on his right side, making him wince. He grabbed your arm, twisting it behind you painfully as you cried out, dropping the knife. His breath hit your ear as he whispered “You really think you can outsmart me, sweetheart? You think you know me? You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
His words made your blood boil, though you know you activated his ego, which you could use against him. You thrusted your pelvis back, ripping your arm from him and kneeing him in the balls, then socking him in the jaw with your gloved fist. He let out a pained grunt, shaking his head as he quickly regained his composure, kicking you in the shin and grabbing your hair. You fell on one knee, screaming at the burning pain on your scalp. You let out a shaky breath, turning and using your intertwined fingers to come down on his arm, making him let go. His fist made contact with your jaw, sending searing pain up the side of your face. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you grabbed him by his throat, shoving him roughly against the brick wall behind him, his head hitting the wall.
He shook the stars out of his vision as you pressed into his trachea, bringing your leg up to kick him between the legs again before he used his metal fist to punch you in the abdomen, a low blow right between your hips, the impact sending you back to land on your ass. Pain shot through your pelvis and stomach as you clutched it, groaning. It was your weakest spot, the one place that would bring you down instantly. Only the other Widows you fought against knew about it.
After the forced hysterectomy in the Red Room, you had some complications, leaving you with an abnormal amount of internal scar tissue. Draykov almost had you killed, due to your lengthy recovery time, but you pushed through despite the excruciating pain you fought through to survive. It still bothered you to this day, and you learned to push through, trying to use the pain as your advantage in most fights. This wasn’t most fights, though, you had never been hit with anything vibranium, especially not by a SuperSoldier.
You hunched over, curling into yourself as the white hot pain echoed in your pelvis, wrapping around to your back. Your ears rang and hot tears you didn’t even realize started spilling down your cheeks stung your hot face. “Asshole.” You mumbled, heaving heavy breathes.
Bucky stood beside you stunned by your display of anguish. He knew it was probably a weak spot by the way you protected it, but he didn’t expect it to take you down this way. He wondered if you were faking it, like your calmness on the roof, but the tears were real, and Bucky recognized the look of someone in excruciating pain. Guilt pinged in his chest as he slowly knelt down next to you. “Shit.” He breathed out, putting a careful hand on your shaking shoulder. “Hey, hey, breathe.” He bit his lip, not knowing what he should do.
“Buck, did you get her? I’m going to pull the car around.” Sam spoke through the com, getting into the squad car they had permission to use to detain you.
“I’ve got her, but I think we’re going to need an ambulance too.” Bucky’s voice was laced with panic as his wide eyes watched the woman who was gripping her stomach.
“What the hell did you do?” Sam shouted, using his phone to call an ambulance.
“I don’t know! I hit her too hard! She’s in pain, just fucking hurry!” Bucky snapped, looking at the woman with worried eyes. “Here, just…lie back.” He cradled the back of your skull with his hand, helping you lay back onto the ground next to him. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, grabbing your hand that was clenched so hard, you almost broke through the material of the glove with your nails, into your palm.
He wasn’t aware that the pain was starting to become tolerable, and he certainly didn’t realize that you had completely disarmed him of his defensiveness. He was so distracted by worry that he didn’t even think to be careful of how relaxed he became. No one had ever disarmed him so quick.
The siren echoed through the streets, growing closer. That was your signal to leave. You opened your eyes, sucking in a breath as you noticed his steel blue eyes focused on you, worry etched into his brow. He looked genuinely concerned, and maybe you felt something flutter in your stomach you hated to admit was there, but it wasn’t time for that, he was trying to detain you, and no amount of butterflies could take away from that.
“You’re soft, Soldier.” You groaned out, watching the frown of confusion form on his face, not realizing what you meant before you used the part of you hand between your pointer finger and thumb to punch him in the throat, grabbing the hand he had on your shoulder and swiftly yanking it behind his back, snatching the handcuffs he had on his belt and cuffing his wrists behind his back. He coughed violently, his face pressed into the gravel as you sat on the back of his legs.
“You deceptive bitch!” He yelled through coughs, trying to breathe from the impact on his throat. He couldn’t see your smirk when you got up, grabbing your knife from the ground.
“That sounds better than Scarlett Widow, I suppose.” you winked at him as he turned his head to look at you, saluting him before you climbed the fence, taking off running.
“Fuck!” He growled, sighing as he coughed again, the pain in his throat burning.
“Bucky!” Sam called, getting out of the squad car he parked at the entrance of the ally, running over to him. “What the hell happened?” He helped him up, unlocking the cuffs from his wrists.
“She tricked me.” Bucky mumbled, rubbing his reddened throat as he looked at the fence.
“Dude, she whoopped your ass.” Sam chuckled, shaking his head as Bucky glared at him.
-
When you finally got into your apartment, well, it wasn’t really your apartment. You had found an empty unit in a dingy complex, the renter was on vacation for the summer, leaving the place empty. You had been staying there for a month now, trying not to stay in one place for too long, to keep suspicion down.
Your tired body screamed for rest as you pushed the door open, locking it behind you and setting the chair under the handle for extra protection. Your heavy feet padded on the hardwood floors as you sauntered to the freezer, grabbing the bag of frozen peas you’d been using for a makeshift ice pack after fighting. Wrapping it in a towel, you pressed it to your bruised jaw, hissing at the pain that shot through your skull. The lights were dimmed, and the fan you stole was trying to circulate some of the stale hot air in the apartment.
Peeling the dirty combat suit off and glancing in the mirror above the bathroom sink, your stomach dropped when you noticed the fist sized bruise forming below your belly button, getting darker by the second. You turned the shower on, tossing the combat suit to the floor to wash it as you showered. As the steaming water hit your skin, a heavy sigh of relief escaped you, the hot water relaxing your muscles. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving you with aches and pains scattered over your body. The shower didn’t last long before your feet screamed for you to get off them. Hanging the cleaned combat suit on the towel wrack and carefully toweling off your skin, you walked to the small bedroom, slipping on a black tank top and some sleep shorts, something loose that wouldn’t press into your bruise.
The mattress absorbed your aching limbs as you climbed into bed, letting out an audible groan when your head hit the pillow. God, how you’d kill for some Tylenol right now.
Sleep wasn’t really an option as your body found new ways to make you ache, every position revealing a new soreness. It was frustrating and exhausting, your mind was tired but your body was very much awake. “Damnit,” You cursed, getting up from the bed, you marched into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of vodka from the freezer and unscrewing the cap. Taking a generous swig, you turned to switch on the tv, dreading to hear what lies they had sold the public about you now.
Just as you grabbed the remote, a creak echoed through the hallway, right outside your door. You had analyzed everyone on this floor, noting when they came and went so you would know if something unusual happened. No one was ever active this time of the night, especially not on a Monday. It had to be that damned Soldier. Flicking off the light, you grabbed the gun taped under the island in the kitchen as you sat in one of the chairs, propping your feet up on the kitchen table.
It wasn’t long before the door handle broke off, the creaky door pushing open as he fought against the chair holding it shut. You couldn’t help but chuckle as he struggled, finally getting it open and stepping inside the dark room.
“You really think I’m that dumb?”
He froze, rolling his eyes as he flicked on the light, revealing you sat at the table, hair dripping onto the cotton tank top clinging to your body, the cold bottle of vodka in one hand, and a Glock in the other.
“Pretty dumb to stay here. You should have left town.” He cocked an eyebrow, his eyes trailing down your body to the shorts that were almost short enough to be considered underwear.
“I’m not scared of you, and I’m not finished in Budapest.” Pressing the bottle to your lips, you took another swig, cocking the gun as he stepped closer. “Don’t. I don’t want blood on the walls for the poor person that lives here to clean up.”
He put his hands up, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he motioned for the chair adjacent to you. You nodded, kicking the chair out with your bare foot so he could sit. His eyes stayed on your face as he slowly sat down.
“Hands on the table.” You motioned your gun at his gloved hands in his lap, sipping the clear liquid as he complied, setting them flat on the table in front of him. The light above the table cascaded over his sharp facial features, revealing a fresh bruise from your fist under the stubble on his cheek.
“So, what does the infamous White Wolf and new Captain America want with me? Why do you care about what I’m doing?” You took your feet off the table, leaning onto the surface with your elbow as you propped the gun on your thigh, aiming right between his legs.
He swallowed, noticing where the gun was pointed as he sat perfectly still. “You’re kind of wanted. Like, everywhere.” He chuckled lowly, his eyes trailing up the arm that held the gun to your lip, noticing that it was healing from being split some time ago. “We were assigned to bring you in for questioning.”
With a nod, you ran your thumb over the lip of the bottle, noticing his eyes on your mouth. “What a great job you did at that, too. I bet you’ll get a raise soon.” Your sarcastic smile made his annoyance grow stronger, the way you had zero fear of him, even knowing who he was and what he was capable of doing. It pissed him off.
“Let me guess, they sold you a sob story about the poor innocent people I’ve killed, ripping them from their families and conglomerate businesses, all the tears from the brokenhearted widows that want revenge for their rich husbands? I bet you and Mr. America really ate that shit up.” Your tone cut through his skin like a dull knife, irritating and menacing. You had zero remorse.
“Yeah actually, that is the reason. I had to deal with those grieving families, coming to us, begging Mr. America and I to clean up your mess, to stop the monster who is mercilessly killing hundreds for no reason.” He snapped, leaning closer to you as his tone grew sharper, his hands still on the table.
The laugh you let out made his blood boil, rage bubbling in his chest, making his face hot.
“For no reason? Oh honey, they really do have you fooled, huh? That’s adorable.” You kept laughing, taking another sip of the chilled vodka as you watched him lean in, smirking as his face reddened.
“Okay, enlighten me, what is the reason? What is his little game you’ve been playing? Some sort of girl-boss revenge mission to make others suffer the way you did?” His face was close to yours now, his hot breath fanning across your face as he tried to rile you up, just a little.
“Babe, you have no idea how I’ve suffered.” You leaned back in the chair, tilting your head as you noticed his pulse showing through the strained vein in his neck. “You sure get easily upset by me, Soldat.”
Bucky slammed his fist on the table, knocking the bottle out of your hand and leaning over the table so close, his nose brushed against yours. “You think I don’t know about your past, Widow? The Red Room? You’re one of Dreykov’s puppets, mercilessly killing to spread his venom through the world.” His words were sharp, cutting deep like a knife as he spoke through gritted teeth.
You quickly brought the gun up, pushing it into the skin under his chin, your eyes locked onto his as your breath hitched in your throat. It wasn’t the first time someone tried to use your past to break you, but the way he said it so condescendingly made you sick. “Choose your next words carefully, Barnes.” He clenched his jaw as he looked you dead in the eye, searching for any humanity left. He huffed an angered breath, slamming himself back in the chair as you tried to suppress the emotions bubbling in your chest. “For the record, I’m not one of his fucking puppets. I’ve been free of the Red Room’s influence for awhile now. I’m doing this on my own.” You set the gun on the table, pointed at his chest as your finger ghosted over the trigger. “If you want to battle about the darkness of each others pasts, we’ll be here all night.”
He clenched his fists, sweat forming on his brow, growing angrier by the second at your emotionless tone.
“You wanna do this again? You want to fight me again? Maybe land another sexist low blow punch, maybe make me cry again?” You stood, taking a step so you were between his knees, kicking his heavy feet apart so you could get closer, pushing the gun into his chest right above his heart. “You like that, Soldier? You like making women cry? That turn you on? Or is that the ghost you claim is gone?”
He chewed the inside of his cheek, his hands practically shaking as adrenaline pumped through his veins, his vision turning red as you egged him on. He looked down at your feet for a moment, nodding. “Okay.” Before you could reply, he grabbed the gun with his metal hand, twisting it away from his chest. You squeezed the trigger for the bullet to only bounce off his metal hand, before he grabbed your throat, slamming you against the kitchen table. The look in his eyes was nothing you’d seen before, it was pure unbridled rage, ready to kill any second. You tried your swing your leg around, pushing it against his hip as you grabbed his wrist.
“I gave you a chance!” His hand pressed into your throat, your lips turning blue from the lack of oxygen. He noticed fear enter your eyes for the first time as your nails dug into the flesh of his hand on your throat.
“Bucky that’s enough!” Sam’s voice came from the doorway as he stood there, his eyes wide as he noticed the look on his partner’s face. He raced over, pushing Bucky away from you with force, holding him back.
Your hands shot up to your throat, coughing violently as you gasped for air, rolling onto your side on the table. Bucky’s eyes softened, looking between you and Sam as he realized how hard he had been pressing. He hadn’t gotten triggered like that in a long time, and he certainly didn’t mean to almost kill you.
“What the hell, Buck?” Sam said in a disappointed tone, pushing Bucky back before running over to you, putting a hand on your shoulder as you dry heaved. “Easy, easy, take slow breaths.” He crouched next to you, watching as you looked at Bucky, rubbing your throat.
“You can’t escape the darkness Soldat.” Your words shook him to the core. He stepped back, looking down at his hands as Sam handcuffed you. You didn’t resist, the lightheadedness throwing off your balance as he steadied you.
“I’m going to take her to the squad car, you should take a walk.” Sam scolded the soldier, helping you walk to the elevator, his hand on your shoulders as you did what he said.
Bucky sat on the back of the couch, speechless. He slid the worn leather gloves off his hands, sighing as he looked at the flesh hand that was wrapped around your throat a minute ago. It was his weakness, being triggered, his darkness spilling over and tainting the undoing he’d worked so hard at, trying to redeem himself after his past. He felt ashamed of the violence that took over him, by something as simple as your words. He didn’t know about your skills in manipulation, and that was the way to his biggest fear, someone messing with his mind again. He hung his head, letting himself calm down.
-
The cell they had you in was made of some sort of unbreakable glass, the floor was cold under you as you sat on the floor, leaning your head back against the small bed in the room. It wasn’t jail, it was something that had Avengers written all over it, which made you gag. Your resentment for the Avengers wasn’t personal, it had more to do with the tinge of jealousy that haunted you. Natasha Romanoff was before you, but you knew her name all too well; the woman who escaped, who got to take her life back and become something more than a cog in the machine, while all the others suffered. You had fought with her sister Yelena for awhile, before she managed to escape, too. You were one of the younger Widows, exposed to the advancement in technology to control minds and force you to kill against your will. You never thought you’d end up locked in a cell designed by the people who took in one of the most famous Widows.
“Y/N, I’m Sam Wilson. I need to ask you some questions, okay?” The man they made the new Captain America stood outside your cell, peering into the room through the glass at you. You rolled your head to the side to look at him, your tired eyes meeting his as you picked at the skin around your nail.
“You can ask away, but I’m not telling you shit.”
He pulled up a chair, sitting back in it as he pondered what to say. “I know you don’t trust us now, and I’m sorry about my partner, but I can help you.”
“Yeah, he already gave me the redemption speech and all that bullshit. I think it was either before he socked me in the gut, or almost choked me to death. Fun times. You better get a leash for that one,” You spat, running a hand over your goosebump ridden thighs.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as he leaned back in the chair. “Again, I’m sorry about him, but It’s true what he said. We can help you if you let us. Maybe we can work out a deal with the judge.” He tried to reason, watching as you started to laugh, laying your head back against the bed.
“A deal, that’ll really help. No thanks. I’m used to being held against my will, I think I’ll wait it out.” You looked at him, flipping him off. He put his hands up in defeat, groaning as he got up, walking away.
“You say that now, but you’ll regret it later.” He called out, standing at the door, ready to walk away.
“Fantastic! Another man threatening me! This is so much fun. Thank you.” You stood, stretching your arms out with a sigh.
He rolled his eyes, slamming the door behind him, frustrated at your carelessness. Bucky was standing outside the door, leaning against the wall.
“Did she get to you, too?” Bucky crossed his arms, seeing the frustration in his partner’s eyes.
“She’s impossible. I have no idea how we’re going to crack her.” He held onto the railing, shaking his head.
“Let her get some rest, I’ll try her tomorrow.” Bucky pat Sam on the shoulder, walking down the stairs.
-
Bucky couldn’t sleep that night. His mind was racing, guilt plaguing his chest as he recalled the events of today, images of fearful eyes silently begging for your life as he choked you haunting his mind. He sighed, rolling over in bed to look at the clock, it was almost four in the morning, and he hadn’t gotten any sleep. He pried himself up, knowing there was no use in trying to sleep. He got dressed, grabbing his bottle of water from the nightstand and the keys to his motorcycle, and drove to the holding facility they had stashed the you away in.
He told himself it was to make sure you somehow didn’t escape, but he knew that wasn’t true. He wanted to see if you were okay. He walked into the building, punching in the code and walking to the surveillance room.
“Hey, Mr. Barnes. What are you doing here so early?” Lance, the security guard asked, who was watching the live feed of your cell.
“I’m going to watch for awhile, do some analysis. You can head home,” Bucky said smoothly with a smile.
“Gee, thanks man. I was getting tired.” Lance grabbed his jacket, nodding at Bucky as he walked out, closing the door behind him.
Bucky sighed, sitting in the chair as he brought his attention to the screens in front of him. You were in the small bed in the cell, asleep with the blanket draped over your exposed legs. He rested his chin on his palm, leaning his elbow on the desk as his eyes locked onto you. He noticed the bruise forming on your neck, a regretful ache echoing in his chest. You looked so different asleep, with your guard down, though the way you slept made him realize how similar you were to him. Your back was to the wall, a hand under the pillow where a gun would usually be, your legs tucked up into yourself, protecting as much of your body as you could. He used to sleep like that at the HYDRA facility, afraid of being vulnerable to torture in his sleep.
He cringed at the memory, swallowing the lump in his throat as he kept watching you. It was only a few minutes before you started to move in your sleep, catching his attention. He frowned, watching as you gripped the blanket in your hands, your whole body tensing up. He turned the microphone on in your cell, listening to hear if he could hear anything.
“Please, I don’t want to fight them.” You whimpered, voice heavy with emotions as you pushed yourself further into the mattress, shielding your face. “Don’t!”
The words shattered his heart, seeing past the tough exterior you’d put up to reveal the immense emotional pain you were in. He wondered who you were dreaming about, who hurt you in the past. He had been bluffing earlier in his threats. He only knew so much about the Red Room and Dreykov, especially after he died. It was almost impossible to find out what happened in the dreaded place. It was common knowledge that anyone who came out of that place though, came out a different person, which he knew all too well.
Your whimpers turned into screams as you clutched your stomach, holding one hand out as the terrors in your memory consumed you in your sleep, ripping you from any peace. “Stop! Don’t touch me!”
Bucky stood from his chair, the urge to run in there and wake you up consuming him. He knew it wasn’t smart, but as someone who suffered with night terrors, he wished someone would wake him up when the past came to hurt you again. Your cries sounded like a young girl, scared of someone hitting them, and it chilled his blood.
“Fuck it,” He grumbled, grabbing the security pass Lance had left on the desk and running to the cell you were in, pushing through doors with determination. He scanned the badge outside the room your cell was in, pushing the door open when it unlocked. He ran over to your cell, biting his lip as he decided wether he should go in or not. The scream that ripped out of your throat was convincing enough, the doors opening as he rushed in, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Y/N, wake up.” He cautiously put a hand on the clammy skin of your shoulder, shaking you gently.
It didn’t take much to wake you, being trained to always wake up on command didn’t come in handy until now. Your eyes shot open, the lights above you in the cell stinging them as you shot up, grabbing the hand on your shoulder and twisting it. Bucky cried out, putting his other hand up in defeat.
“It’s me! I’m not going to hurt you!” He grunted. You let out a breath, letting his arm out of the hold you had it in with. Looking around, you absorbed the surroundings, realizing where you were, you relaxed slightly.
“What happened? Why are you in here?” You asked frantically, pushing yourself away from him on the bed, pushing your back against the wall.
He shrugged his arm, his eyes softening when he saw you recoil from him, a glimmer of fear shining in your bloodshot eyes. “You were having a nightmare. You sounded pretty upset, so I came in here to wake you up.” He brought his leg up onto the bed, letting out a breath as he rubbed at his wrist.
“Why would you do that? Why not just let me suffer?” You frowned, crossing your arms over your chest to try and protect yourself. He saw your body language and softened his posture, keeping his hands in sight on his thigh.
“You were screaming like someone was killing you. I didn’t want you to wake up the whole building,” He lied, his eyes flicking down to the bruise on your abdomen that was exposed as your top rode up. Remorse filled his features.
“How thoughtful.” You huffed, yanking the shirt down over your stomach away from his gaze, pulling your knees up to your chest. He sighed, looking down at his lap and shaking his head as you started to get defensive again.
“Look, I’m really sorry I hurt you before. It was extremely unprofessional, I fought dirty and I apologize. I shouldn’t have done that.” He looked up from his hands, his blue irises filled with regret, hoping you’d somehow forgive him, though he knew he didn’t deserve it.
You simply nodded, letting your tensed shoulders drop slightly when you saw how genuine he was being. Your eyes trailed down his body to his dark blue shirt, tightly clung to his chest, revealing his muscles. He didn’t have gloves on anymore, revealing the black and gold hand toying with the thread on the knee of his skinny jeans.
“Are you okay? Is your stomach okay?” His voice was softer, a gentleness to his tone laced with genuine concern.
“It’s fine. I’ve had worse,” You answered numbly, running a hand over the hot bruise on your abdomen. The pain was bad, it was still radiating through your torso, the old scar tissue irritated, but pain was an old friend, and you learned to hide it from the world, especially possible threats.
He nodded, knowing you were probably lying, but you were smart, he knew it was best not to show the enemy, which he had become. “Can I get you anything? I’m not really supposed to give you anything, but I could sneak a bottle of water?”
You looked up at him, a quizzical look on your face as you tried to figure out why he was suddenly being so nice. It couldn’t just be from the injuries, right?
“If you have vodka, I’ll take it.”
He chuckled softly, his teeth grazing over his bottom lip as he scratched the back of his neck. “Fresh out, I’m sorry.” His eyes trailed over the bruise on your jaw, dark splotches scattered across your skin.
“Figures.” You sighed, grabbing the pillow and holding it against your stomach as you crossed your legs, relaxing slightly. “Well, I guess you can leave then. I don’t think your partner would approve of you playing nice cop anymore.”
Bucky raised his eyebrows, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek as your tone turned cold again. “I’m not being ‘nice cop’.” He adjusted his body to face you more, furrowing his brows. “You really can’t trust anyone, can you?”
Rolling your eyes, you glared at him, shaking your head. “This isn’t about trust. Trust is for those who have nothing to lose. Sorry I don’t want to share stories at this makeshift slumber party, but I’m supposed to be somewhere right now, executing a plan I’ve been working on for months! Until your stupid boy band came and ruined everything! So no, I don’t trust you.”
Bucky ran a hand through his cropped hair, letting out a sigh of frustration, utterly amazed at how venomous you could be. “God, you are so fucking insatiable! I’m sorry we interrupted your well planed execution, but this has to stop! You have to be stopped! You can’t keep killing like this. If we don’t stop you, who will? Are you going to stop?” He snapped, the vein in his neck bulging as he raised his voice.
“You really think I’m the enemy here, don’t you? You really believed the watered down bullshit they fed you. Really? You of all people, someone weaponized from an organization built to kill, to make people suffer, think I’m the dangerous one? Tell me James, wouldn’t you like to take down every single person involved in making you and countless others suffer?” You spat, absentmindedly leaning closer to him.
His face dropped, a slight tinge of fear in his eyes.
“How do you know about that?” He clenched his fists, watching your eyes roll.
“I learned everything about you and Sam Wilson the day you popped up on my radar. Your files aren’t that hard to find.”
He swallowed, leaning back slightly. “Alright.” He ran a hand over his face, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Of course I would want to take them down, and I did. What does that have to do with you? You told me before, you got out of the Red Room, Draykov’s dead. What more is there to do?”
“It’s not that simple.” You leaned back against the wall, looking down at the mattress.
“Fill me in, then.” He put his hands up, shrugging.
“I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“Okay, for fuck sakes! Just tell me, please! You want me to beg?” He was so irritated by you, it wasn’t normal for him to be annoyed so easily, but there was something he couldn’t put his finger on about you that got him riled up.
“I want out of here if I tell you. I want you, Captain America, and your goon squad to leave me the hell alone, so I can finish what I started.”
“I cannot promise that. They want you locked up, your vendetta is done. The best I can do is getting your record scrubbed slightly so you don’t end up in prison for the rest of your life.”
With a sigh, you shook your head, trying to bite back the emotions that crept up your throat. “It’s not a fucking vendetta! The Red Room is destroyed, gone, Natasha Romanoff ended it, but her ignorant ass was so busy helping your stupid friends the Avengers, that she completely missed the most important part! Those people who funded it, who fed it, who kept it running for all those years are still alive and well. Every day that goes by, they are crafting a way to make another one, to keep their sick games going, to imprison more girls. But no, you go ahead and arrest the one person who has the guts to do something about it.” You let out a shaky breath, wiping the tears that managed to escape as you screamed at him, looking down at your wet hand.
He fell silent as he processed what you said, his wide eyes locked on you as your body started to shake. You sniffled, sighing in frustration as angered tears stung your eyes, wiping them furiously.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” His tone was soft again, remorse returning to his eyes as he looked at you, guilt flooding his chest when he saw your tears. He somehow managed to make you cry again, and he felt awful about it.
“No shit. I’m the only one who cares. I have so much blood on my hands, trying to stop these monsters.” Choking out a sob, your breaths quickened, “You don’t understand the horrors they are funding, what they put those girls through. What they put me through. You people always believe those with money, with power, and you never think to ask the victims.”
He looked down, knowing what you said was true. He had no idea what happened in the Red Room, he trusted the families of those monsters, and ended up hurting you instead.
“The man you were going to kill today, was he a part of this?” Bucky asked softly, sorrowful eyes meeting yours as you nodded.
“I don’t kill innocent people. Richard Stone funded the experiments in the Red Room in exchange for protection from the Widows for his illegal trading company.” He listened to you talk, hanging onto every word. “I was assigned to protect him, five years ago. I watched him kill my friend. I tried to stop him, but I was being controlled by Draykov.” Bucky tensed, his throat tightening as he saw your hands tremble. “He grabbed me, pushed me against the wall and groped me. I couldn’t fight back. Thankfully before it got worse, I was sent to another assignment.” Bucky chewed at his cheek, seeing the pain flash in your eyes as you looked at him. “I had him right there. I could have stopped him, but you two stopped me.” Anger laced your tone as you shook your head, clenching your fists.
“If I would have known, I would have left you alone. I didn’t know any of that. I’m sorry.” He inched closer, putting his hand out to touch your arm, which you instantly swatted away.
“Don’t think this means I trust you, after all you used my pain to take advantage of me.” You sighed, rubbing the bruise forming on your throat. “Just get out of here. You already know too much.”
He pulled away, watching your shaky fingers run along the bruised skin under your jaw. “I’m sorry, again, I never would have said that if I knew.” He stood from the bed, wringing his hands anxiously. “I’ll see what I can do to help you out of here.” He watched as you turned your back to him, laying on your side to face the wall.
“Sure. You do that. Don’t expect me to hold my breath.” The anger dripping from your voice was covering up the broken sadness consuming you as the memories flooded back, the realization of Richard getting away unscathed infuriated you.
Bucky looked at you sadly, biting his lip as he walked out of the cell, the sound of the door locking made you flinch. He walked down the stairs out of the room, pulling his phone out to call Sam.
“Buck? It’s five in the morning. What’s up?” Sam asked tiredly, rolling over in bed to look at the clock.
“Come to the holding facility, we need to talk.”
