Pairings: bucky barnes x reader. WS!Bucky x HYDRA!reader. 60s!reader x Bucky. HYDRA x HYDRA.
Tags: HYDRA!reader. CW!Bucky.
Synopsis: In the 60s, you were captured by HYDRA. Placed as the Winter Soldier’s perfect partner. A mirror, the other edge of the sword. For as long as you could remember being in their clutches, the Winter Soldier had been right besides you. Even when you escaped HYDRA.
Warnings: possible grammar and spelling mistakes. Not proofread. No use of y/n. Canon divergencies. Mentions of blood, injuries, abuse (it’s HYDRA guys, what do you expect). Nothing extremely graphic. Trauma. I saw somebody using the term ‘Winter Rose’ as a possible name for HYDRA!reader somewhere, so credits for the name goes to them.
I do not consent for my work to be uploaded onto other platforms or translated. Reblog to support. Comment to be added to my taglist.
For as long as Bucky’s fractured mind allowed him to remember, you had been there. A glimpse of a person he saw between wipes and Cryostasis sessions. A mirror of his own skills as the Winter Soldier, yet not quite the same. Just as deadly, and just as broken.
Winter Rose, the Shadow, HYDRA’s little frozen gem with borders sharp enough to cut air. You had many names, though you were not meant to have any at all.
Unlike the Winter Solider, who—despite the anonymity he maintained with his lenses and muzzle—was still sometimes seen on the outside, you were kept in the corner, waiting to strike.
You had joined their ranks a couple of years later than the original Winter Soldier programme in the 40s. It was 1967, you listened to the Beatles on the brand-new record player your mother had bought for your birthday, and you went to the movies with your friends. Life was perfect, until it was not.
Your father had fought in World War Two, actually managing to achieve quite a high rank in the Army. Somewhere along those battles, he had angered a few HYDRA officers.
Twenty years later, they were seeking for an individual to turn into their newest asset—this time, a woman. Someone not too tall, and agile enough to complete missions. You just so happened to meet most of their requirements—and could prove to be the ideal way to get retribution from an old enemy.
It was a quiet summer evening, you carried inside the bag that you cheerfully carried a brand-new dress. One you had been dying to buy for months now—the neck was heart-shaped, coloured a beautiful red. All those days spent working at your local dinner had finally paid off.
The blink of an eye was all it took to vanish you from the streets. One moment you were taking a turn through a less concurred street, and the next one you weren’t anywhere to be seen. Out, stripped away from your world in broad daylight.
The year that followed was a blur of electricity and medical cots, procedures held under the guidance of men who were far from licensed medics. They injected you with something, that much you knew. It wasn’t the traditional serum, it was something different, new, developed.
They didn’t need you to gain superhuman strength—no, you were meant to stay small, unnoticeable. The mental methods they had used on you were sharper, too. Twenty years had made them learn and evolve.
You were easily triggered than the Winter Soldiers, completely and utterly subservient. If HYDRA was against any action that you did, they could very easily shut you down. The pinnacle of the project was, however, your union with the Asset.
A perfect partner, soft where he was rough, weak where he was strong. An almost natural connection, deeply programmed into the most obscure corners of your minds. A union never meant to be broken. The missions you got dispatched to together were the ones with the upmost significance. Every blow, every shot, was intricately calculated.
You moved in sync, you shot, he covered your back, he attacked, you waited to defend his weaker spots. Even now, when fighting had taken a more domestic outlook. It had been some time since the pair of you had managed to escape HYDRA—physically escape, that is. Their mental grip was still very much there.
Bucharest was nice. Nicer than anything you could remember. Despite having to constantly be on the look for potential HYDRA agents trying their mightiest to bring you back into their facilities, life in Romania felt good, it felt domestic. You scrambled the bits of your brain that still knew how to proceed with daily tasks, and started to slowly build a life together with Bucky.
The flat was small, one bedroom, one area that held the kitchen, the living room, and the dining room, and a bathroom. Though the average person would consider the building a terrible deal, it was luxurious compared to the icy-cold cells you were accustomed to.
It didn’t have much furniture, just a table, a couple of chairs, a small TV that only displayed three channels, a microwave, a ripped couch, a wooden coffee table, and a bed. Despite there being enough space for both of you, Bucky only seldom slept besides you. His nights were haunted by nightmares—and as were yours.
Generally, he chose to lie on the floor beside you, with a pillow and a blanket to work as a makeshift bed. The mattress was uncomfortably soft, and that often was something that troubled your sleep.
Neither of you talked much, words had been something forbidden for far too long. After being stripped of a liberty as simple as talking, one forgot how to articulate sentences. You didn’t need reassuring words and heartfelt conversations, both your eyes told everything you needed to know. Yours were softer than his, deep and warm, a blanket that comforted Bucky through the worst of nightmares.
The minute he unlocked the door, stepping into the flat and allowing himself to breathe in the scent of food and something so distinctively yours, his shoulder eased.
You were there, just a few steps away, right where he could watch you. If anything were to happen, if anyone were to attack, it wouldn’t matter quite as much, because you were there. As long as you remained together, you would survive.
Some vulnerable moments had flourished. You still remembered the night Bucky had told you his name. Before that, you didn’t really call him anything. You addressed him with hums, nudges and attention-calling words; he wasn’t the Winter Soldier, he wasn’t the Asset, he was someone else, and from that night on, you knew who.
He had been sitting on the couch, hugging his legs, and hiding his face. Memories were slowly starting to flow back into his mind. Flashes, brief voices. Fair lights, mud, the voice of a girl with his eyes and shorter stature, Boy Scout medals, a cliff, jazz music, books, and an observatory.
Some other day, brief scenes had come to your mind. Vinyls, a group of girls, pencils, a dog, hair curlers, a notebook, a shop in the corner of a street, a melody, and a hand.
However, the memories that flowed were not always pleasant ones. There were nights in which your mind would be invaded by guilt and sorrow. The eyes of everyone you had killed, the horror as you had pressed the trigger. No matter how much you tried to bury it, it always came back.
Winter was around the corner, which meant the heating system in the building did little to keep cold away. That exactly might have been the last draw leading to Bucky's breakdown. Over the last few days, he had been quiet, grumpier than usual. Waking up several times in the same night, cold sweat, and trembling.
He shut the TV down any time they mentioned the Avengers, especially Captain America, and he flinched at the mention of any word of his list of triggers.
You knocked on the door three times, your personal signal to let Bucky know you were going to enter the building. You found him sitting in a corner, curled up, hair falling over his face.
“Bucky?” you called out, taking slow and steady steps in his directions. He didn't move at the mention of his name, nor with the vibration of your feet in the floor.
“Bad day, hm?” you carefully sat down next to him, tilting your body weight in his direction, yet not completely stepping into his personal space. “It's cold.” The first words you had managed to hear from him in days. “It is kind of cold, yeah. Maybe I could make some tea.”
And just as you started to get up, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back down. “Stay here,” Bucky huffed, barely lifting his head up. You nodded, leaning more comfortably against him.
His eyes were strained on the floor, sporadically, they would shut close. You knew what it meant, the darkest memories of his past hell were grazing his mind. “Don't do that, don't blame yourself like that,” you told him with a sigh.
“Why not? I deserve it. After everything I did--I don't deserve this quiet,” he choked out, meeting your gaze. Just then, your heart broke. You knew him, you understood him, and that only made it more painful.
You moved some hairs away from his face, your fingers brushing his skin. His eyes fluttered close. Not only was he allowing you to touch him, he was leaning into it. “Maybe neither of us does. But… we can still try. Build a life and everything, we get to decide now.”
You pressed a gentle kiss to his head. Maybe it was a bond deeply cultivated by the sharpest HYDRA scientist, or maybe it was something you had built overtime. Either way, you both had one thing clear; you would not separate. It wasn't perfect, but it was just what you needed.
Summary: The last thing bucky expected was his past coming back to haunt him in the hands of Valentina...but there's more than meets the eye. On both ends.
Warnings: Angst; Smut; Explicit, female reader, reader has banshee powers - i'm basing it off of sindel from mortal kombat - amongst extra - prob not even mythically accurate, manipulation; Valentina, canon typical violence, mentions of your past, flashbacks, when i say plot heavy um im deadass LOL I'VE NEVER WRITTEN THIS MUCH BEFORE. kinda giving true loves kiss around the end; smut is at the end, half proofread bruh who rereading allat
italicized text in a sequence means flashback
inspired by a fic i read that infuriated me bc it was good until they decided to describe the readers skin tone and that shit blew me. enjoy <3
Word count: 9.5k+ (DAYUMMMM)
You wore a deep frown as you dragged your feet down the cold, dim hallway. Wrists bound with thick cuffs and being escorted by a group of guards. You've been stuck in this prison for over 14 months. Every day treated like a ticking time bomb. It was only until recently they took off that mind-numbing collar to keep you at bay, but the muzzle remained strapped around your head and under your disheveled hair.
You felt betrayed. As the days went by you expected Valentina to burst through those doors and demand your release. But she didn't. The longer you waited, the more bitter you became. Even more angry at the hold she had over you. Valentina's reputation precedes her, but she's done so much for you. Every "asset" she worked with was taken care of at least in some way shape or form.
You lied awake on the metal cot in your cell. Once again counting the lines on the ceiling for the hundred thousandth time. A tactic you developed during your time in HYDRA to keep from going insane. Not that it was ever that effective but at least these guards here didn't have it out for you every waking hour.
Only real difference about this prison was no brutal training or brainwashing. No fighting super soldiers three times your strength in small cages. The food was slightly better and you actually got along with some of the other female inmates.
A loud creak came. You didn't bother to look.
"Inmate 775-324. You have a visitor." a voice called out before you heard heels clicking down the short hall to where you stayed. Your brows furrowed, wondering if you were imagining that familiar walking pattern.
It couldn't be...
"Shriek."
You blinked.
"...Honey?"
You stiffened. Hearing her talking to a guard that was with her.
"It’s not safe, ma'am."
"No, no, she knows me. I'll be fine." she insisted.
The cell door opened shortly after. You slowly sat up and let your feet touch the cold ground, still not looking up. Her heels clicked slower as she stepped in, the large door hissing closed. The cot groaned as she sat down and removed her sunglasses. Before she could get a word in, you spoke first.
"Why are you here?"
Valentina hesitated. She hesitated.
"Darling, please, let me explain-"
"You left me." you said, still staring intensely at the ground. She sighed and folded her hands in her lap.
"I need you to let me speak, my dear." she replied. In that tone she used when trying to calm you down. Or keep you calm. Like a child. When you didn't respond back, she continued.
"I want you to know that I didn't put you here. Technically."
"What does that even-"
"Shriek."
You ran your hands over your face and hugged your arms tightly to stay cool. Hating the feeling of being reprimanded, especially by the woman you were most loyal to once.
"I had no choice but to give them your location. My and everybody else in my circle's life was in danger. Including yours. If I didn't give you up, they would've found you anyway and killed you. You have to understand that, hm?"
You flinched when her soft touch met your shoulder. Almost too soft. It freaked you out.
"I never meant to not come back for you." she continued in a softer...oddly motherly tone. "It’s a whole lot of paperwork, sweetie. And my hands were tied with, unfortunately, a new team I've been overseeing the past two years. I apologize. Okay? Can you accept my apology?"
Your eyes were closed the whole time she spoke. Somewhat soothed by her presence and voice when you shouldn't be. You should be angry. Maybe even threatening her life, telling her to get the fuck out of here before things got ugly. But, nonetheless...it was still Valentina.
"...yes." you said in a quiet, meek voice. Betraying how half of you felt. She smiled and rubbed your back.
"Can you look at me?" she asked. You slowly lifted your head and looked at her. Subconsciously shrinking under her gaze even though you were taller and infinitely stronger than her. She had that effect on people. The second she gave you that look, that "You poor thing" look, you broke. A single tear falling down your cheek. She won.
"Oh, darling," she cooed and scooted closer to lay your head on her shoulder. She rested her chin atop and cradled it with her other arm. "Today is your lucky day," she added. "I've got a task. An opportunity just for you, sweetheart. But not from in here."
Your claws that unknowingly unsheathed retracted back into your skin, your fingers curling into your jumpsuit.
"You're getting me out?" you asked, sounding more childishly hopeful than intended.
"I'm commuting your sentence." she reassured and patted your cheek with a sigh of content. "Let's get you cleaned up first."
-
"Are you mad?!" Ava shouted at Alexei while holding up a carton of milk. "Seriously, have you absolutely lost your mind?"
"My goodness, guys, can we please keep it down?" Walker groaned and tried to get comfortable in the couch, his nap constantly interrupted.
"You have a room. Like, a whole room with a bed and a door, moron." Yelena called out from the kitchen while standing in between Ava and Alexei.
"I thought we agreed you wouldn't speak Russian at my expense anymore."
"Ava has a point..." Bob muttered in the corner by the pantry.
"Of course you would agree. You are scared of her." Alexei rolled his eyes and waved them both off dismissively.
"Who in their right fucking mind adds water to a near empty carton of milk and puts it back into the refrigerator?!"
As the bickering went on, Bucky sat in the corner of the living room purely fed the hell up with everybody. He hasn't spoken a word in the last hour. Which wasn't abnormal but this wasn't a regular brooding session, he was at his wits end.
The elevator chimed--which nobody heard. Valentina entered the main room first, pep in her step as she gestured for you to follow. You had a complete makeover. You washed and fixed your hair on your own--courtesy of your powers--got a proper shower, good filling food, and a brand new suit folded neatly in your duffel bag. It looked similar to your old one, just didn't have a voice amplifying mask. You didn't want to be reminded of the muzzle.
Despite your combat boots, you were light on your feet. So, as you two made way towards the noise, Valentina stopped at the doorway to the living room and looked over to the kitchen.
"Guys," she said. No response, no acknowledgment. Her eye twitched as she cleared her throat.
"Avengers!" she shouted, so loud that it even startled you.
The bickering stopped and all the attention was on her. She wore a big smile at the silence as she walked further into the living room with you behind her. Now the attention was on you. Bucky's eyes narrowed, only catching your side profile. Walker sat up from the couch and rested his elbow on the back. The remaining stood awkwardly in the kitchen.
"Who is the rookie?" Alexei spoke up. Yelena leaned on the counter and crossed her arms.
"Oh, she's no rookie. Everyone, I'd love for you to meet someone I've been dying for you all to work with. She's been working on and off for me for years. Former and rehabilitated HYDRA agent-"
Bucky frowned deeply. His heart picking up speed in his chest. He didn't like this one bit.
"-and she is actually fresh off a mission so she is a little tired. But my good friend here will assist you in your upcoming mission. And only this mission. I still need her for other affairs. Oh, and I think you two might know each other." she added, pointing between you and Bucky with a false sense of just figuring that out. It was clear as day. Some of them exchanged glances, a silent conversation. Knowing Bucky's past and that this couldn't be sitting right with him.
"So, another asset you kept hidden away." Ava chimed in flatly. Bob winced, but she wasn't wrong.
"Where was she during the void incident?" Walker added and stood to his feet, a skeptical glint in his eyes. "Or these last two years?"
"She was busy in New Zealand and a few other countries handling some business for me. But that's neither here nor there, folks. This is now. And this mission needed skills like hers."
"And what skill is that?" Bucky also stood up and walked over, but kept his distance from you both.
"You can call her Shriek." Valentina said in a 'You fill in the blanks' tone.
Oh.
Oh.
Bucky's jaw clenched and his nose flared from trying not to react. Shriek? As in...
His mind raced as it came to him in bits and pieces. He remembers you. He met you back during his Winter Soldier days long before he was freed from HYDRA's clutches. You were another victim made into a solider. Molded by cold blooded hands. Evil, evil men and women. You were a beautiful and terrifying woman with powers that struck fear into the hearts of any and all who faced you.
"Does 'Shriek' speak for herself?" Ava asked. Valentina gave a tight grin before looking over her shoulder.
"C'mon," she said softly. Like she was luring out a dangerous animal among even more dangerous animals. You stepped forward and looked around. When your eyes landed on Bucky, they lingered for a moment before you faced forward again. Determined not to show the typhoon going through your head right now.
"Hello, everyone." you greeted, voice measured and neutral. "To sum up my skills, I have powers similar to a banshee. Hair manipulation," your hair extended to your knees and it moved like it had a mind of its own. You could see some of their faces reacting in different ways. "Echolocation, enhanced speed, sight, and hearing. I also specialize at night."
Bucky could recall how your hair had writhed and coiled around your body, like a nest of snakes protecting you before taking out their prey on your command. He remembered the sound of your scream, a banshee's wail that could shatter bones and pierce eardrums.
But there was something...something more.
He had a faint flash of the way you looked at him wherever the missions ran long but at this point he couldn't tell if he was making that up.
"You said you have banshee powers," Yelena spoke up, "So, you just...scream really loudly?"
"Yeah, no, I'd like to keep my ear drums, thanks." Walker added. Your eyes snapped to him in irritation.
"I know how to channel it properly." you said sharply. Valentina cut in with her hands clasped before Walker could.
"Let's play nice, yeah? Shriek will be doing overwatch while you all extract the rest of the information. I'll send you the details later."
"Okay. Does 'Shriek' have a real name?" he asked. Bucky long since retreated back to where he was sitting. Flashes of memories passing his every thought. The chambers, the chains, that mind-frying collar and muzzle HYDRA had you walking around in until it was time to go on a mission. How long it took you to gain control of your powers. The faded deep scratches on your arms that regenerated too quickly to fully heal.
But there was something else. Something else between the gaps that wasn't clicking. He couldn't rack his brain for the life of him. He could only picture you two during the last mission before he escaped HYDRA. His eyes shut tight. What was it? What was it??
You said your name with a curt nod to him before looking at everyone else. The rest of the team was still wary but accepting it for what it is. You're here and going to assist them in their next mission.
"Alright...well, welcome to the team, I guess." Ava said as she set down the milk she was still holding the whole time.
"Yeah, as long as you just stay out of our way, there'll be no problems." Walker said.
"Awesome! I have somewhere to be, so, like I said I'll be giving out the information shortly and please, don't hesitate to socialize with your new teammate for the night here," Valentina placed her hands on your shoulders and smiled like you were a trophy to present. Awkward silence filled the room and led Valentina to roll her eyes before leaving.
You just stood there with a neutral expression while they just stared, looking around like they had something to add, maybe even questions but waiting on someone else to start.
"So, what kind of serum you have?" Alexei asked, earning a groan and facepalm from Yelena. "Is HYDRA like Bucky here?"
"Yes, but it's slightly different." you said. Putting your bag down, you decided to walk into the kitchen and sit on a tall chair at the island, facing the living room. "I was experimented on to see if they could make a supernatural type of super solider. I was one of few who survived."
"...Where are the others?" Bob asked from behind you.
"Dead." you said bluntly. "The experimentation was too much on their bodies. Some even had to fight to the death in a cage."
"Jesus," Walker said under his breath.
The room fell silent again. You could feel the air thicken with the one thing on everybody's mind. Did you know Bucky? Well, The Winter Soldier? Did you two fight together? If so, what was your relationship to each other? But nobody wanted to ask. Didn't want to potentially trigger some sort of confrontation right before a mission.
"It’s alright, though." you continued. "You don't have to worry about me turning against you guys, if that's what you're sitting here wondering."
You watched them migrate in front of you, all except Bucky. He was still sitting with his eyes on the ground. He thought his past was done haunting him physically. He was getting used to the nightmares and lack of sleep and gaps in memory, but this was next level. Everyone's device chimed at the same time, including yours. It was from Valentina with the location and mission details. Yelena nodded at the screen and looked at you pensively before extending her hand.
"Let's get it done, Shriek."
-
20:45, abandoned base, France.
You were perched on the rooftop in your stealth suit. Hair down your back, ears perked, and your eyes trained on the trail leading to this abandoned facility. One ear piece for comms with the rest of the team and another ear piece when you went out on missions, per Valentina's request. Though she never explained why, knowing you'd do it anyway.
You could hear them talking to each other, sometimes bickering over stupid shit but locking back in when it was needed. Your mind kept occasionally drifting back to the flight here. You could feel Bucky's eyes on you almost the whole time while you acted oblivious. For some reason it made your blood boil. The holes in your memory would spark whenever he spoke or looked in your eyes. It brought you to dark places.
Lying awake in a cold, dim cell, chronic insomnia haunting you at whatever time it could be. A figure looming outside of the big display window. But that's where it stops. Gets tricky. And it angered you beyond belief that this man triggered that memory to not only appear but not even complete.
Your ears twitched at the sound of footsteps but you didn't move.
"Why are you here?" you asked. Bucky put his gun back in its holster as he walked up to stand next to you.
"Just checking in."
"I don't need your check in."
"I'm aware." he said with a neutral tone. "I'm making sure nothing happened up here."
"Thanks." you said flatly and kept staring into the darkness that hugged each side of the building. Bucky sighed through his nose and leaned on his elbows along the ledge. It was true that he remembered who you were. It wasn't entirely clear what you were to him but he could feel it in his chest. He kept picturing a young woman who learned to stop trying to escape the hard way. The faint scars on your knuckles made his throat feel tight.
"How long were you in HYDRA for?" you suddenly asked. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him. Part of you wondered if you should bring up that you thought you knew him.
"70 years." he said. You looked down at your thumbs as you carefully decided what to say next but it didn't stop the inevitable feeling of dread that washed over you.
"...Did we cross paths?" you asked, but he didn't respond right away. Just stood there. You unknowingly passed on the dread to him and he didn't know what to do. Or what to say. But before he could even try to answer you, there was a quiet ringing going off in your left ear through the ear piece Val gave you. You winced and heaved over in pain and confusion. Bucky couldn't be any more panicked right now as you looked like you were about to start thrashing out on the ledge of this building.
Though, the sound suddenly cut off and the pain was short lived the second you snapped back into a stoic state. Nothing around you registered anymore. Vignette surrounded your vision as your ear picked up the sound of a vehicle approaching 30 feet down the trail. Claws slowly appearing and your hair acting on its own.
"Shriek?"
You completely ignored him and launched yourself off the ledge. Landing smoothly with a tumble as if it wasn't 8 stories high. Bucky's eyes widened and he looked over, confused when he doesn't see your body splattered all over the gravel.
"What the f-"
A loud, guttural wail broke his next sentence.
Yelena, Ava, and Bob turned around at the same time before meeting each other's gaze. Yelena pressed the comms to her ear and hid under a table.
"What the hell was that?"
"Shriek." Bucky's static-y voice cut in through the radio. "Where are you guys?"
"Southwest corridor on the third floor." Ava answered. "Alexei? Walker?"
"Director's office the fourth floor. I found a few dusty chips lying around on some of these desks, but I just have a quick question, how the hell is the new girl slamming three guys together with her hair?"
"This is what I like to see!" Alexei whisper shouted and belly laughed, patting his leg while disregarding Walker's look of disapproval. "Look at her go!"
John was not lying. You were tearing through these soldiers like you knew them personally. Ripping off their gear with your bare hands and beating the shit out of a few others with just your hair alone. You moved at nearly lightning speed just purely bloodlusted, almost like something inhuman. For a split moment it reminded you of that time you almost took out a team of doctors after a not-so-successful experiment.
-
"Second phase complete." a woman said in Russian. Her skin pale as the luminescent lights almost taking out your vision. Her name wasn't memorable. You were half awake, top half bare with two female Russian "doctors" and one male German scientist hovering over you with a clipboard.
You weren't even sure if it was the drugs making you feel invincible or if you were coming to realize this shit wasn't right. You'd been a few hours out of cryo and they didn't think anything of it. Why? Because you weren't the Winter Soldier. You can be a threat, but you'll never be him. As they like to remind you.
One Russian lady--much meaner, fiery red hair and matte lipstick to match--pinched your nose to force you to breathe through your mouth. They were testing something you can't remember. Something about lung endurance or whatever-
"Get her off me! Get her off me!" the German scientist screamed as you tried to claw at his face, restraints long shattered into pieces on different sides of the room. One lady shouted towards the door.
"Send him in!"
-
The clamoring in your earpiece was lost on you as you crushed at least four guys skulls with your thighs alone. There were too many to count but you were certainly handling business. Sure, there were sharp pains in places you didn't feel at the moment but the last thing on your mind was your wellbeing.
"My God..." Yelena muttered the moment she cracked the front door. She watched you in horror but she couldn't lie, the numbers you were putting up all on your own was impressive.
"That's some intense shit." Bob muttered while looking over her head.
"We gotta help her." Bucky said as he was already running down the stairs. He suspected that you weren't acting on your own but at the same time... this isn't the first time he's seen you in this exact state. With or without being activated by a third party source.
"Honestly, I thought Yelena would be the first woman I see suplex a man." Walker added, more like he was talking to himself before he and Alexei stopped gawking at the window.
"There's still time." she remarked and ran outside with her gun drawn at the men you were fighting. There were about four trucks that pulled up just full of guys in which not all of them looked like soldiers. "Holy shit, she's taken down like 40 of these guys alone."
-
"We can't kill her." a gravelly voice spoke. Accent too strong and foreign to be identified. It belonged to a man. A mean, mean man. You didn't know him but you could tell. You couldn't see him but just knew. You didn't want to see him. You didn't want to see anybody.
"Why not? She's reckless. A liability." another voice spoke. The accent was British. A woman. You knew of her. Jet black hair in a long braid down her back, natural frown. Fair skin littered with freckles. Taller than most. Never not in heels. She was a little less mean verbally but the scars on her face reminded everybody she didn't play any games.
"Exactly." he said, the fabric of his tight dress shirt stretching when he crossed his arms. "We do not need two Winter Soldiers. This one is more of a danger to herself than anybody else. Which is why she should be paired with Soldat. He will keep her in check."
You sat back on your haunches, eyes to the ground and head hung low. Hair like a curtain over your face. It was the only form of privacy you could get. They only just started letting you sleep without the muzzle lately but that collar never came off. It kept you meek. Almost stupid.
"Is that so?" she wondered, her eyes catching you scratching at your knees. The lady banged one time on the window but you didn't stop. "Stop that!"
The buzzer that indicated your cell door opening rang in your ears, making you shudder. Four loud clicks followed and the woman stood in front of you, raising the back of her hand high. But all you did was brace for impact.
-
Your back hit the dirt. The dark sky rumbling finally finding its way to your senses before the rain fell. The thumping of heavy boots crowding around you before the smoke from the blown up trucks could reach you. Not a single face wasn't blurry until Yelena flashed a light over your eyes. You grunted and clutched your shoulder. A bullet was lodged right past the resistant vest. Two went straight through your right thigh and blood ran from your hairline to your cheek. The adrenaline was wearing off. You weren't tired. Not in immense pain because of the serum but it didn't mean your nerves weren't screaming.
"We're clear. Nobody else should be showing up but we need to get lost. Quick. Evac is two minutes out." Ava said as she walked over to the group huddling around you, checking her weapons and putting them back into their carriers. "Now." she insisted.
"I'll let Val know we need to keep her for a few days." Yelena said before pulling out her phone. "Who's on carrying duty?"
"I got her."
Bucky was already hoisting you into his arms before she even finished her question. The drizzle hitting your skin from time to time was keeping you from falling asleep. Once glance in Bucky's direction and it hit him. He's been through this before. You getting ahead of yourself and disregarding your own wellbeing for the sake of others without even realizing.
It came at him in waves while they walked to the checkpoint with all the things they needed to collect before it fell into the wrong hands. The feeling of your deadweight in his strong arms easily reminded him of your second to last mission. You took a bullet for him and still kept going until you couldn't anymore. Sometimes he would wonder if he really was supposed to keep you in check or if they were punishing him. Though, that didn't make his feelings any less real before they were shocked and wiped away.
The plane ride back held minimal chatter. Bucky couldn't stop himself from hovering around the room you were being taken care of. Constantly checking the little window in the door. Your expression hasn't changed. You weren't sleep. You literally couldn't fall asleep. Mind running and sitting at the same time. It's like when blades spin so fast it looks like slow motion. It made him weary because he'd seen that look too. The memories coming back in still framed flashes made his head start to hurt.
He didn't realize Yelena walked up next to him until he turned away to pull back from barging in. She watched him flinch with a concerned look on her face. Not many people could successfully sneak up on him except for her and Ava. And Bob on occasion.
"She's going to be fine." she said as she leaned on the opposite wall of him. "But something tells me you already know that."
Bucky didn't meet her gaze and only exhaled, frown lines deepening.
"How long did you two know each other?"
"Only a decade." he answered. "We met in '94."
-
"Seriously?" the same woman, British, spoke at the board meeting. Who sat there was some of HYDRA's top people involved in these projects. "You truly believe removing the soldier from cryo for one girl is necessary?"
"It's not like she is new. We've had her in our back pocket for a few years. Perfecting and refining her behaviors. All we would like is a test run. See if they would work well together." a man, Swiss scientist, said.
"And if they don't?" she challenged.
"Wipe them and start over." he responded almost immediately, shrugging like this was common knowledge. "Nothing we haven't done before."
-
"It's still foggy." Bucky rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb, brows furrowing. "But I can recall teaching her everything she knows about combat. That look on her face, in there, I have no clue what'll happen if she stays with us."
Yelena looked through the window for a moment with a raised brow. "You're saying she's a threat to us?" she asked and looked back to him. Now he was looking directly at her.
"I'm saying she can be unpredictable."
"Val said she was reformed, rehabilitated or something like that."
"And you're believing a word she says?"
"Bucky, with what we saw out there...Shriek could've done a number on us if she wanted to. I've never seen anything like that and we literally survived the Void."
"I don't know." he looked back at you, lying still and barely reacting to the bullet being extracted. Then his gaze landed on the earpiece Val gave you sitting on a cart nearby. "That didn't seem like someone who was in control."
-
3 days later.
You stayed on the couch so that it was easy to check on you. You barely talked, let alone got up and moved around. There wasn't a single thing to remember after jumping off that roof. You blinked and suddenly were face up, rain falling on your face and being carried to a plane.
You were in the kitchen making lunch when your phone buzzed. When you pulled it out, Val's name flashed back at you before answering immediately.
"Valentina."
"Good afternoon, hun. How are you feeling today? They patch you up good?" she asked on the other side of the line, you could hear her thank Mel for the coffee that just landed in her hand.
"They did, yes. My thigh and shoulder feel better now thanks to regeneration."
"That's great to hear! You remember that opportunity we talked about?"
You could feel her tone shift just a tad bit, picturing her tight and not-so genuine smile.
"...Yes, ma'am." you said and leaned against the counter as you surveyed the living room. "I won't let you down."
"Of course you won't. Things can get pretty ugly if you fail me. You understand that, right?"
"I do." you replied with your eyes closed. You thought about your next words carefully in hopes you didn't sound weak or were about to bail out. "Can I tell you something?"
"You can tell me anything, dear."
You hesitated for a second. She noticed.
Why were you so nervous?
"That mission...I don't remember getting hurt."
You didn't hear a response but you knew she was still there. She set the coffee on her desk and sat down, as if you actually there with her.
"It's...normal for people with a past like yours to forget things due to trauma." she said, her voice molding back into the one similar to when you were still a prisoner. "I wouldn't sweat this one. This is just a small obstacle that we will work on once you're back. I believe in you, alright?"
"Yeah." you said quietly. She cleared her throat, "Yes, I mean."
"Good job." she replied with some sort of pride in her tone. "I have to go now but remember what we talked about. Opportunity. You do this for me and your life will go back to how it used to be. Okay?"
"Yes-"
"-And don't forget," she cut you off. "Keep. The ear piece. On."
"...But I thought you said it was just for missions-"
Before you could finish, the line dropped. You slowly brought it down from your ear and stared off in the distance with a sigh. There was nothing more in this world you needed than a change. Another chance at life and she was the only one who could give it to you. You rolled your shoulders and cracked your neck with purpose before returning to lunch.
It was later in the evening when the sun began to dip below the skyline. Oranges and pinks crept into the darkening blue above the tall buildings. You were on your phone, sitting on the end of the couch with Ava and John, Bob was on the floor watching the TV. Yelena was cutting up an apple and Alexei was flexing in the mirror. Bucky was still in his room taking a nap.
"Oh, by the way, Shriek," Yelena called out from behind you so you'd turn to look over your shoulder. "I forgot to tell you I recovered your throwing knives. I'd hate to lose a good blade like that."
She gestured her chin to a table to your far left. Your eyes darted to the two freshly polished blades before looking back to her with a small nod.
"Thank you." you said, attempting a smile. She smiled back and ate a full slice.
"Anybody wanna go out for drinks?" John suddenly said, his tone obviously bored. Ava gave him a confused look.
"You can't even get drunk."
"Exactly why I should be drinking right now." he retorted with a 'Duh' tone.
"The American is right." Alexei butted in and sat obnoxiously into one of the lounge chairs. John rolled his eyes with a sigh. "We had successful mission and were fiercely protected by the rookie here. I say that calls for a few rounds, eh?" he added on with a pumped fist, sounding genuinely triumphant.
"It's never just a few rounds with you, dad." Yelena drawled.
"I wouldn't mind a few drinks." Bob spoke up with a finger in the air. You had to admit, it was a bit cute.
"Should we wake up Bucky and see if he wants to go?" Ava asked the group. Only met with silence before they all went "Nahhhh."
"What about you?" she turned to you and nudged your shoulder. "You're welcome to tag along before you have to go back to Val."
You looked at her as you actually thought about it. All eyes on you as they awaited your answer. You didn't want to seem lame or look suspicious so...you just went along with it.
"Sure. I'll go." you said with more of a smile than you're used to. This earned a few cheers around the room before they all went to get changed into more casual wear. You found a simple outfit in your bag Val packed just in case you needed some civies.
After a few minutes they all gathered and headed towards the elevator, Yelena still with her apple slices--using one of her knives like a kebab--ready to have a good time tonight. You looked back for a brief moment then stepped onto the elevator with them.
A little later, Bucky came out of his room with a big stretch. The entire place was dark, not a single soul to be found. They must've gone somewhere without him, he thinks, but it wasn't the first time and he needed that nap anyway. He rubbed his eyes and yawned as he made his way to turn the kitchen light on when something was suddenly hurled at the wall. He stopped dead in his tracks, now fully alert. The object gleamed under the moonlight, creeping past the windows and showing a sharp flower-looking blade. As soon as he turned, a crisp slap landed on his face, leaving scratch marks from sharp nails before blood beaded from the cuts.
Bucky couldn't get his words out when he felt something wrap around his neck, too choked up and surprised to even try to finish his thought. He gasped and grasped onto the supposed object before his eyes landed on a dark figure slowly walking up to him.
"The Winter Soldier."
He blinked pretty hard a few times while trying to pry this thing off his neck, but to no avail. Then, a pair of eyes were on him. Only slightly bright and hazy in the dark. Once the figure stepped closer, exactly one foot away from his face, his jaw tightened. But he didn't call out the alias. He said your name. Your eyes narrowed as you inched closer.
"So you do remember me." you said, voice echoing slightly the stronger your powers manifested. "Just didn't want to admit it."
"I knew Val was up to something." he strained and struggled, perhaps a little scared for his life. He knew you were purposely holding back. Or at least attempting to kill him very slowly.
"You're worried about Valentina right now?" you pressed, squeezing tighter. "She gave me another opportunity and I won't let you take that away from me. Not again."
His brows furrowed as he tried to stay consciously aware of his surroundings. "Again?"
"James Buchanan Barnes..." you gritted. "You took everything from me."
"What are you talking-"
"When you and your little friends couldn't just lay down and die, making everything difficult with your prying, I went to prison. Valentina had to send me away for my safety while you all took the glory. But you...you ruined my life."
You unwrapped your hair from his neck and watched him heave over to catch his breath. Taking a step closer, you grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you.
"Look at-"
-
"-Him!" a man shouted in your face while you were strapped to a chair. Head low and eyes shut tight. "You think he loves you?!"
2014.
You two were in trouble.
Your last mission went fine. That was until shit went haywire and your comms with HYDRA were cut for two hours. The rule always was if something went wrong while you both were on a mission, stick together and don't move unless it was absolutely necessary. What you two had was everything and nothing. One minute his hand lingered a little too long on your back or thigh, the next minute he was cold. Non verbal.
You were stuck in a small office in an underground base, only Lord knows where. It was dark and cramped. Clearly for one person to operate with top secret documents and information. You leaned against the desk while sitting on the ground and he was adjacent to you. The solider was staring daggers at you with one knee propped up to act as an arm rest. When you glanced at him he looked away.
His mind has been whirring for the past few weeks. Being out of cryo the past few years and working with you was risky. He hasn't been "acting out" much because he grew a small attachment to the very one he was training to be nothing more than a walking chainsaw.
"Why were you looking at me?" you asked in Russian, eyes still on him. "You do that a lot."
The soldier didn't respond and kept his eyes on his shoelaces. You got up slightly and crawled next to him before sitting with crossed legs. He stiffened and his natural frown grew deeper.
"I didn't mean to." he muttered softly. Speaking like he was trying to placate you. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize." you said. There was hesitation in your next movements before you placed your hand on top of his. "We're not enemies."
The soldier swallowed hard and exhaled slowly. This was wrong. He knew you weren't enemies. He...felt. Felt something inside whenever around you. It was foreign. He was supposed to be a husk of a man. A weapon. Hired gun with extra steps. But that wouldn't explain why he secretly enjoyed sparring. Getting to touch you. He pins you to the ground or vice versa. You could handle his aggression. You didn't have a choice. He could handle most of your ferocity just so long as it didn't involve your teeth or nails.
You felt stronger for him. They didn't think to wipe you as much because they didn't use you at much. Most of the time you weren't even aware you were alive.
Lying awake in that cold cell, sometimes drooling on the ground as the solder loomed outside the big display window. You weren't allowed to spar without your muzzle at first. And the collar so you'd know how to fight while out of your mind.
There was that one time you were allowed to spar just as yourself. He's seen your face many times but there was something special about seeing you sweaty and determined to pin him down. The one time they let you fight unsupervised because they'd seen it all before. He could hardly focus with how much better you've become.
It was the same set of moves as usual until you dodged perfectly, lunged at him, and pinned him to the mat. You had a feral twinkle behind those empty eyes for once and that's when he started to question everything.
So now, in this office, was one of very few decisions he made on his own. As him. As Bucky. He tugged your hand towards him and kissed you. It started a little awkward. He didn't know what the hell he was doing but something within him told him to do it. Your fingers tangled in his long locks and scratched his scalp in all the right ways. He grunted as a shiver went through his body before pulling you on top of him.
This was wrong.
Your lips were out of sync and sloppy. No form, just...feelings.
This was wrong.
He was tempted to yank that suit off you and figure out the rest as he went.
This was wrong. You know. He knows.
He thinks. You think.
You two couldn't be any more obvious by the time they found you. They didn't see you dry humping like horny teenagers but it was the simple look of longing in his eyes once the muzzle was put back on.
Your head was yanked upwards by your hair so you'd look directly at the soldier standing in front of you before going on his next mission in New York. Tears in your eyes but they didn't fall yet. He looked like he could start bawling too.
"Say the words!" the man shouted. Your bound wrists struggled against the chair and the tears finally fell. "Say it!"
The soldiers lips parted very, very slightly. Carefully. Cautiously. Uttering three words silently.
"I love you."
"Longing...Rusted..." you sobbed as he grunted in pain. "Seventeen, Daybreak, Furnace...Nine, Benign, Homecoming, One...Freight Car."
And just like that...Bucky was gone in an instant.
"You see that?" the man spoke quietly in your ear and pointed to the solider, a wicked smile on his face. "Soldat doesn't know you. He doesn't love you. Make the command. Now."
You shuddered and quietly gulped. "Kill Captain America." you said slowly in Russian. The man let you go and groaned.
"So fucking dramatic." he muttered and gestured between you both. "Wipe her. Let him watch."
-
"You left me."
A single tear shed down your cheek as you bore your gaze into his. Voice getting lower when you continued on and let go of him.
"Cut off the head...and the body follows."
There was a dull look behind your glowing eyes as your hair started moving again. Behind the former assassin was a broken girl. A broken girl who was used and groomed into the sidekick to the world's deadliest assassin. You loved the soldier, you really did. Seeing him now years later made you feel sick to your stomach. Valentina told you everything you needed to know and she was right.
Yet there was nothing more painful knowing you weren't going to enjoy taking him down as much as you thought you would.
-
3 days ago, earlier that day.
"These are the targets." Val said as she handed you files in the middle of you scarfing down real food. You chewed much more than you could handle but you did not care. She tried to hold back a look of disgust at your hungry and disheveled form. "But this one here...he's the head of the snake. The head of the snake gets cut off, the rest of the body shall follow. You picking up what I'm putting down?"
You stopped mid chew and squinted at the man with the slickback hair down to his ears. He looked really familiar.
"You know him." she said. "The Winter Soldier."
You looked up at her and your heart dropped.
"He left you for dead, honey. And he's why I had to send you to prison. This is your opportunity to get your life back and continue working for me. Bottom line is I need to know that you're stable enough to do this job. Because if not," she leaned over the table and looked at you like a pre-disappointed parent. "You will have to go back to prison. Or worse. Is that clear?"
Your eyes darted from her face to the files. When you looked down at Bucky, all you could see now was a bullseye. No longer the man you once thought loved you. It hit you like a cold bucket of water but every thought that passed by was incomplete.
"Crystal." you said with a few slow nods and ate some more food. Her heels clicked as she made her way to you around the table, pulling up a chair and rubbing your back. Her other hand opened to show the ear piece she wanted you to wear.
"You're going to need this." she explained in that tone again. "I'll explain on the way over." she added with a wink.
-
You'd been landing a few good blows on Bucky because he refused to fight back. Purely defense. He didn't know how to tell you just how much he was still in love with you. That he'd thought about you frequently without even realizing it but he knew it'd fall on deaf ears because the only thing you were focused on was at least impairing him. At most, killing him.
He landed harshly on the coffee table after you projectile screamed into his face. Glass shards decorated the living room floor and you walked through them like it was nothing because technically it was. With the shit both of you had to endure, glass shards or even a literal fire couldn't compare.
You were one good inhale away from making half the tower start shaking. Your nails grew a bit longer and your eyes glowed brighter, the meanest mug he's seen in a while. He was in awe and wondered if this was what your actualized state looked like. Half of him was truly prepared to die if it was by your hands.
You hovered over him in his lap with your nails ready to drive into his neck. The second you raised your hand that quiet ringing started going off in your left ear like from before. You groaned loudly and held both sides of your head in pain. Bucky's eyes widened as he quickly picked up on what was happening. It was the damn ear piece she gave you. She must've had it scheduled to control you when it was clear you needed to fight or in the middle of one.
He sat up with a grunt and kissed you. It was really the only thing he could think of since words were definitely out of the question. Your body couldn't de-tense itself until he reached up and pulled the piece out to crush it in his bare hand.
He backed up and held your face. The dullness slowly seeped from behind your gaze, the only thing illuminating the room was the lights from the city. Another tear fell as you stared back at him.
"I'm sorry." he whispered. Face so close his breath fanned over your lips. Your shoulders slumped at the gentle look in his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to leave you like that. I didn't want to leave you like that...I didn't have time I just- it was one fight after the other and all this chaos surrounding me because of my past and- and I didn't know who I was yet and just... I am sorry."
Your fingers wrapped around his wrists to keep his hands there and closed your eyes. Hair finally coming down from fight mode but your claws remained. "Did you mean it?" you inquired. "When you said you loved me?"
One of the first memories that came back when you saw him was that day. It didn't connect that you were talking to him until you looked up at him while he was carrying you. His face blurry from the tears streaming down your face before everything faded to black. But that's what made you so angry. You believed he said that and then had the nerve to leave you there all alone. So, of course you finally asked the question that was on your mind for a long time. Now that you remembered who was it that was standing right in front of you.
Bucky didn't immediately respond verbally but he nodded without hesitation. That specific memory wasn't entirely clear but he's sure he meant it whenever he said it to you. It's hard to remember much right before he was sent out to kill Steve but he'd never forget you. He never did. You were buried so deep in his mind that you showed up in his nightmares. A faceless figure that was after him until the pieces came together.
You quivered in his hold. You spent everyday since he escaped angry. Angry at him, yourself, the world. You were convinced Valentina was a godsend. Your only saving grace but...she lied. Used your trauma and desperation to please to keep her hands clean.
You pushed his hands down to your waist before practically crushing your lips against his. It was a little less awkward than your first time together but you were clearly less experienced than he was, so he took the lead and slowed down the pace. He held you tight with his metal arm as he carefully stood up, mindful not to break the kiss. Your legs wrapped around him tightly as you got the hang of how to kiss properly.
Bucky made way to his quarters with ease. Gentle arms laying you down before removing your pants. His heart ached at the scars and claw marks and stitches that ran up your legs alone. He took his time showing you that he wasn't put off by it at all, peppering soft kisses on the especially deep cuts.
You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched him. Ever since you escaped you always wore long sleeves and pants to cover up. Mirrors were always turned around and you didn't dare look through glass for too long.
Once he reached your thighs he kissed right along a cut that he unfortunately recognized. It was the one he gave you the first time you sparred. He hadn't an inkling of self control and ended up hurting you, yet all he can remember so clearly is you not even flinching.
Bucky looked up at you while caressing your outer thighs, the coldness of his metal hand in stark contrast to the warmth in those blue eyes.
"If you don't want to do this, we don't have to." he said. "Knowing you love me back is enough."
Your lip tugged upward into an actual smile, heart swelling with warmth and appreciation. A feeling so foreign but finally something that didn't make your chest feel heavy. You can't recall the last time you had a choice.
"I want this." you reassured as you fully sat up to pull your shirt over your head to leave you in just your bra, pulling him up towards you by the chin. "I want this with you."
When he crawled back on top of you, you couldn't hide the the slight wince at the scar on his cheek you left.
"Sorry about that..." you whispered. He took the ghosting hand over his cheek and gave your scarred knuckles a kiss.
"It's okay." he said now with a peck to the lips. "I probably would've done worse."
Bucky was on you like a long lost lover. Well, he technically was. It's been nearly a century since he's ever been this close to someone; penetrating deep inside you felt like getting a warm hug after sitting in the cold. He was careful, thoughtful. Tender.
You held each other like a lifeline. Fingers intertwined in one hand while the other cradled his head by your shoulder. Ever since you escaped, you never thought you'd ever be in this position on your own accord. Too much was going on and way too many people had control over your body and mind.
But this here? With him? It was magical.
Your thighs were tight around his waist. Every other time his hips rocked you gasped softly and let out wispy moans that softly echoed in the room.
His breath occasionally hitched when your walls swallowed him deeper, which he didn't think was possible. It felt like he was molded just for you.
Bucky groaned and rolled over so you were on top. He could feel himself already about to reach climax but wasn't ready yet. Not until you went first. You readjusted your hips and sank down into his lap, watching his head hit the bed and his lips fall agape. You steadied yourself and took a deep breath with your palms to his chest, his hands on your bare hips. He smiled to himself when your hair fell over your shoulder like a curtain.
You rode him at a slightly faster pace than he set before. Nails digging into his skin but he didn't seem to care. Your eyes shut and you let your senses do the work for you. Bucky hadn't seen you in this much bliss since your first kill.
"Shit," you stuttered and kept riding. Your hair started to glow at the tips and your moans became louder. The way your hips moved was fascinating to him. For someone so inexperienced it really looked like you knew what you were doing. He moaned your name and let his flesh hand delicately run over the other scars on your torso.
"Fuck- Ah, you can slow down if you want-"
"No." you gasped and went faster, licking your fangs once you felt him start thrusting up into you. Your legs weakened when he found the spot that made your eyes shoot open.
"Don't stop- Don't-" you cried out, just a few thrusts away from glory. Your last few moans went up a pitch and then you crashed with a shriek. Bucky never let go as he chased his own high while you rode yours out. Your back arched then hunched while your nails dug in him some more from trying to keep from wailing, and that sent him over the edge. He came inside you with a thundering groan from the pit of his stomach. Pumping you to the brim with his hot seed.
His thighs were painted with slick by the time you calmed down. You both heaved, catching your breath while sitting all the way up and collapsing at his side. Your vision cleared once you blinked at the ceiling and paying no mind to the feeling of his cum seeping out of you. He exhaled before sitting up and putting his boxers back on. You glanced at him in slight panic.
"Where are you going?"
He looked back, drinking the gorgeous sight of your spent form and powers unintentionally activating because he was hitting it too good. He still got it!
"Getting a warm rag. I'll be right back."
He came back with a rag and a glass of water, setting the cup down and getting on his knees in front of you. Curiously, you looked down and saw him fold the rag before wiping you down. It was...nice. You'd never seen something like this before. Let alone known of its existence.
"What's this?" you asked.
"Aftercare." he said, folding up the cloth and tossing it in the laundry when he was done. He helped you back into your shirt and underwear before handing you the glass of water. You drank it one go and let out a crisp exhale when finished. He laughed softly to himself before tugging you down with him in his arms.
"You don't look tired." you noted while brushing some of his hair behind his ear.
"I don't get tired." he answered simply and draped your leg over his hip.
"Huh...I don't either." you said. There was a moment of comfortable silence between you two before he spoke up.
"...does this mean you're staying?" he asked the question you've been thinking about the past 48 hours. You just shrugged. Honestly, you really had no clue where to go from here. You were reunited with the man you loved but still worked for the woman who used you for clean up.
"What are you gonna do about Val?" he continued while idly rubbing your leg. Your lips pursed together as it was another question you had to really think about.
"I'll figure it out."
He nodded and considered the depth of your simple words. He knew you would be the lone type after he left, but he was still protective of you even after all these years. "I think if we let the others know what she actually sent you here to do and that you had a change of heart..." he trailed off.
"Going after her will be an arduous task." you said. "I can't ask you to fight my battle."
"She has tried to kill us twice." he pointed out. "I'm just saying, having you on the team will do all of us some good. We can figure this out. Together. I cannot and will not lose you again."
You absorbed his words and actually thought about it. He wasn't wrong, and it wasn't like you wouldn't be in huge trouble if you went back to her without their heads. So, with a huff, you nodded and replied more confidently this time.
Avengers!Bucky Barnes x Red Rood Stripper!Female!Reader
Warnings are for each part; not every part has the same warning.
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings: MDNI, Morally gray reader, angst, mentions of hydra, stripping, widows/red room, forced stripping, mentions of background OC’s for plot, spider-themed names, no use of y/n (in this part), pervy Bucky (if you squint), mentions of cigarettes and smoking, inappropriate language
A/N: Wanted to try something different, haven’t seen a lot of hydra! Readers. The next parts will be more explicit.
Part 1
“Ladies, gather up.” Victor’s voice cut through the silence. The club was about to open, and you tugged your silk robe tighter, turning away from the light-up mirror. Your makeup was finished, hair still in pins for curls.
Victor was the club manager, a hydra handler with a fat belly and wearing velour tracksuits like every Russian mob man ever. He pulled up his pants, scanning the room.
“My star ladies, you all work so hard. Just wanted to tell you the holiday rush is fast approaching, which means more money.”
The club, The Velvet Veil, was a Hydra front in Manhattan, New York. They sold weapons out the back while stripping served as a cover. Any tips you all made, you've got to keep. Hydra made money from the bar and private rooms for paid sex. Another condition was no forced prostitution. You weren’t stripping by choice, but you didn’t have to do more than that. If you wanted extra money, you had that option. Security was tight, always making sure you women were safe.
You all are Red Room graduates, chosen for your looks. It was that simple. There were six of you in total.
Brown Recluse, named after her light brown hair. Huntsman, because she was the tallest of the group. Red Back, named after her ginger hair and complexion. Banana, named after her bright blonde hair. Trapdoor is named after her powerful legs on the pole.
And then there’s you: Tarantula. The favorite, the one all the regulars loved to see on stage. You earned the nickname because tarantulas are always the preferred pet spider.
You all are like sisters, stuck in this club with no end in sight. You all could be the next Black Widow… if there was a way out. But you all stayed loyal; Victor was a good boss. He loved you ladies like family, gave good bonuses, and was never creepy. Hydra wasn’t in this business for creepiness.
You don’t have phones, and you can never leave the club. When not dancing, there is a full kitchen and beds in the east wing, hidden behind a secret door.
Victor didn’t linger after, just a quick Hurry up and he was gone.
Banana sprayed more hairspray into her golden hair. A couple of you coughed, waving a hand in the air. You looked over at the other Widows, and they went back to getting ready. You let out a long sigh, pulling your hair from the rollers and making your way to the front.
The club wasn’t open yet, and security stood by the doors counting down the minutes. Marco, the bartender, slid you a water on the bartop. You took it gratefully, and downed it in one go. You murmured a thanks and sat down. This was your favorite part, the calm before the storm. The quiet before the pervert men come in, either not knowing or not caring that you could kill them with a single stab to the neck.
A lot of them talk, typically during a lap dance when they think you’re just some stripper, not a parrot for Hydra.
The bass had barely kicked in when the doors unlocked. It was early, and not many would come in for a couple of hours. Not even the regulars. The main stage lights were dimmed to a soft red glow, just enough to make the chrome pole gleam.
Your costume tonight was simple, deadly: a barely-there black velvet bralette that laced up the front, a matching thong, and a sheer robe that you’d let slip off your shoulders the second the first customer walked in.
You swirled the last drops of water in the glass, ice clinking softly. Marco leaned on the bar, arms crossed, watching you with that same quiet respect he gave all the girls. He knew better than to flirt; he’d seen what happened to the last guy who tried.
“Big night?” he asked, voice low.
You shrugged, “Holidays.”
Marco laughed, taking your glass and refilling it, “Ah, the Holidays. You ladies, could always use the extra money.”
An hour later, the first trickle of customers arrived. You slid off the barstool, letting the robe fall open just enough to tease. That was your cue to make yourself scarce until your stage time was on. The house lights came up slowly, bathing the stage in crimson and gold. The DJ dropped the first beat—something slow and filthy, heavy bass that vibrated through your bones.
Banana was already climbing the pole like she was born on it, long legs wrapping around chrome, blonde hair whipping like a halo of sin. Huntsman took the smaller side stage, towering and graceful, her dark eyes scanning the room like she was cataloging every potential threat.
You sat backstage, cigarette between your manicured fingers. You wait until Banana is done with her set, but you’d rather just smoke than strip. What was the point of making money… if you didn’t think you’d ever leave?
A handful of men crowded the edge of the platform, tossing crumpled bills like they were throwing coins into a fountain. When a twenty fluttered down, you arched your back and offered the thin strap of your thong. They snapped the elastic against your hip with greedy fingers, the sharp sting making you smirk.
You didn’t need acrobatics: no wild spins or death-defying climbs. You circled the chrome pole slowly, hips rolling in lazy, liquid circles, letting your body do the talking. The song pulsed through you—deep bass vibrating up your spine, making your nipples tighten against the velvet bralette. You let your head fall back, eyes fluttering closed, surrendering to the rhythm for just a moment.
When you opened them again, three new shadows had claimed the VIP booth. Hoodies pulled low, postures too still, too watchful. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes sharp and half-lidded, and dropped into a slow squat—hand trailing down the cool metal pole like you were stroking something far more intimate.
You couldn’t make out their faces yet. The strobe lights and distance kept them shrouded.
A couple of minutes later, the song ended with a low, filthy fade-out. You held your final pose—back arched, thighs spread, hair spilling over one shoulder. Long enough for the last bills to flutter down, hands to shove twenties and fifties into your garter strap. The crowd gave their usual mix of whistles and groans, but you barely heard them. You straightened slowly, rolling your hips one last time, letting the crimson lights kiss your skin before you sauntered offstage.
Victor was waiting in the wings, but something was off. His face was pale, sweat beading on his upper lip despite the air-conditioned chill. He grabbed your arm—gentle, but urgent and pulled you close.
“Tarantula,” he whispered, voice cracking like thin ice. “VIP booth. They’re Avengers.” The word came out like it burned his tongue. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “I don’t know why they’re here, but they keep glancing toward the east wing. The door. They’re watching it.”
“What do you want me to do?” You asked, putting your hands on your hips, “Want me to fight 'em or something?”
“I need you to do your job and distract them.”
You huffed, plucking the money from your straps and any that you put in your bra. “Give me like five minutes.”
Victor waved you off, running to the bar, probably to tell Marco also to act normal.
Bucky’s POV:
Bucky Barnes had seen a lot of shit in his long, traumatized life—blood-soaked battlefields, frozen decades, women who tried to kill him in a hundred different ways—but nothing, nothing, had ever hit him quite like the sight of her on that stage.
The club lights painted her in deep crimson and molten gold, turning every curve into a weapon. She didn’t need the pole tricks or the flashy flips the others pulled. She just… moved. Slow. Deliberate. Like she knew exactly how to make every man in the room forget his own name.
And right now, she was making Bucky forget his goddamn mission.
It wasn’t just how she looked, nothing but skin under the lights, or the way she slowly blinked at him; it was the way she carried herself like more than just a stripper.
All of the strippers, for example, moved powerfully. Like Red Room powerful.
He sat in the VIP booth, arms crossed over his chest, metal fingers flexing against leather. Steve was on his left, jaw tight, eyes scanning the exits like always, except there was a faint blush creeping up his neck. Sam was on his right, pretending to sip a beer while cataloging every face in the room.
But Bucky? Bucky couldn’t look away from her.
She circled the pole with a lazy grace, head tipping back, eyes closed as if the music was putting her in a trance. Then she opened them—sharp, half-lidded. It was downright predatory. Then glanced over her shoulder straight at the booth at him.
That slow drop did it.
She sank down, thighs parting just enough to make his throat go dry, one hand trailing the chrome like she was petting something alive. The garters snapped against her skin with every inch she lowered, and the way her back arched—Jesus Christ. The black velvet bralette strained against her tits, the laces begging to be tugged loose. Sweat glistened on her collarbone, catching the light like liquid sin.
Bucky’s jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might crack.
He was supposed to be watching the east wing door, counting security, mapping the layout, and looking for Hydra signs. Instead, he was rock-hard under the table, pulse hammering in his ears, every muscle coiled tight.
The song ended. She held the pose—back bowed, thighs spread, hair spilling like ink—and the crowd lost their minds. Bills rained down. Hands reached. She let them tuck twenties into her garters, smirking like she owned every single one of them.
Then she straightened, slow and teasing, hips rolling one last time before she sauntered offstage like she hadn’t just ruined him.
Bucky exhaled hard through his nose. “Fuck.”
Steve shot him a sideways glance. “You good, Buck?”
“Yeah,” he muttered, voice gravel. “Just… keep your eyes on the door.”
But his eyes were still glued to the spot where she’d disappeared behind the curtain.
The sway of her hips and the slow blink of her sharp eyes burned into his retinas like a brand.
Sam leaned in, keeping his voice low under the thumping bass. “Alright, focus up, boys. We’re not here for the show—though damn, that one’s got moves that could start wars.”
Steve ignored the side chatter and kept his tone clipped, professional. “We’re looking for the east wing access. Intel says there’s a hidden door behind the bar or in the back hallway—it leads to the Hydra staging area. Weapons transfers happen between sets. We need eyes on any movement, any packages, any faces that match the dossiers. No engagement unless they force it. We’re here to observe and confirm, not raid.”
Bucky nodded once, jaw tight. “Got it.”
But he didn’t. Not really.
Because right now all he could think about was how her skin had looked under those lights—slick with sweat, flushed, begging to be touched. How her thighs had parted just enough to make his cock twitch like he was a teenager again. How she’d glanced right at him, like she knew he was watching, like she was daring him to do something stupid.
His dick hasn’t been that awake since pre-hydra, when he was busy chasing skirts in the 30s.
Steve’s voice cut through the haze again. “Buck. You’re supposed to be watching the east wing, not the stage.”
“I’m watching,” Bucky growled, but his eyes flicked back to the curtain anyway.
Sam smirked. “Sure you are. You’ve been staring at that stripper like she’s the only thing in the room. Mission clock’s ticking, man.”
Bucky shot him a look that could’ve melted steel. “I said I’m watching.”
Steve sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We give it another twenty minutes. If nothing moves, we slip out quietly. No heroics. No distractions.”
Bucky’s metal fingers flexed against the leather couch, the faint whir barely audible over the music. Distractions.
Yeah. Easier said than done, because when the velvet curtain parted, there she was. Same lacy bra-and-thong set from the stage. Her sharp eyes tracked their eye movements, not just like a stripper should. It was calculating.
But Bucky was too distracted by the bounce of her boobs to notice anything else.
He was so fucked.
Dividers by @enchanthings
I rushed this. Not sure how much I like it, but it will be several parts. Trying to see how popular this series will be. I added Bucky's POV now to make it more interesting. I hope you all like it! Starting a new fic is always the hardest.
synopsis: your father was never a normal man , rude to every human being in the planet except you — unless he needed to be . today was the day of one of your spontaneous trips that your father’s work let him take , instead of studying like you were supposed to , you got curious . too curious , you ran into someone you were never supposed to meet , The Winter Soldier . to make matters worse ? this won’t be the last time you two meet .
content warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT !! mentions of world war ll / the Cold War / russia & “propaganda” from the Russian / German and American government , descriptions of blood and murder , torture , implied grooming of a child , psychological horror , graphic descriptions and language , stockholm syndrome , implied sexual abuse and assault , drugging , mutilation , and trafficking , strays from canon , weird timeline , brainwashing . (basically the red room & bucky’s torture plus a lot more)
word count: 4k+ idk the exact amount , I didn’t put it into a word counter
a/n: this is the story that replaced the Slytherin boys story (since I lowkey hated it) expect the shauna x reader to come out in the next few days . after that finnick x reader and then I’ll make my way down the line of priority . y/n isn’t used to refer to the oc much but rather just in the descriptions , reader is called “scylla” as an experiment name . if you enjoy this and want to be added to the taglist please comment below ! reblogs are appreciated and loved .
song of the chapter⠀⠀:⠀⠀dna by lia marie johnson .
1951 , november 16th | “y/n karpov” , eight years old | subject number : n/a
you and your father had a weird relationship , nothing you two did as a “family” could be classified as normal . his job couldn’t even be classified as normal , not that you actually knew what it was . normal fathers would take their kids out to play ball or go shopping , yours took you to shooting ranges where he taught you how to shoot different guns and how to take them apart then put them right back together . normal fathers would come home after late days working and embrace their kids while eating dinner together at the table , yours took you to work with him and let you sit in the corner while he did . . whatever he did .
you didn’t know what you father did but you knew it wasn’t good , you could always hear screams and cries echoing from the halls of the cold building . the only part you liked was the traveling , every few months your dad would pack you guys some bags and you’d just disappear for however long he chose . sometimes it was for a week , two the longest you’ve gone was a few months , he always had the same excuse — “ work has us moving around but we’ll be back home soon . ”
you never knew your mom , never asked about her either , you only did once whenever you were little which led to a huge “demonstration” from your father . he led you to a room full of women , all lined up , perfectly , not a hair out of place , they looked beautiful and deadly all at once . the woman was terrifying , Melina , your father called her . she tried to have a nice face around you but that only made her scarier , especially when you saw what the girls did , what she made them do . “ your mom worked for them . a dangerous woman she is , I took you away from her . had to keep you safe . ” since then you’ve never asked about her again . not if it was going to make you return to the “red room” , it was a stupid and childish name that you had made up but it was fitting . the halls were always covered by red , whether it have been due to crappy lighting or the crimson from someone’s body .
today was just like any other trip , your father packed your bags and you two took off . you always came back to your penthouse in Kazen , the place was nice , not to much the people but the place was comforting and cozy . you were homeschooled so disappearing was never a problem , you just did work on the plane or while your father worked . “ afternoon Mr. Karpov . ” the guard stood up tall , the chill from the Siberian weather , he gave a smile in your direction , voice and expression softening upon seeing you — stuffed animal held tightly in one hand while you held your math homework in the other . “ Ms. Karpov . ” you gave him a wave before the doors opened , your father wrapped his arm around your shoulder , pulling the heavy coat you wore over you a bit more with a small tug .
“ now I have to work for a few hours but you’re gonna finish your math homework . then after that you can watch tv , can you do that for me ? ” he’d crouched down to your height , you were barley eight years old so you weren’t necessarily tall . his hand rubbed lightly against your cheek as you nodded excitedly by his question . you weren’t allowed to watch tv often , your dad always mumbled about American propaganda making its way to the Russian screens which made your eyes roll . you didn’t care about America or the war , though it had ended , the tvs were still filled with hatred . you learned about it obviously because you had to but the war only caused you and your father more anguish . you never believed any of the things you saw on tv or the flyers that were up in other countries or cities , you only listened to your father . he was all you had and the only one you wanted to make proud .
1953 , june 12th | “y/n karpov” , ten years old | subject number : n/a
next was the “cold war” . a weird name . the war been going on for almost six years , you’d really only realize three years ago that it was real and it wasn’t just some thing that conspiracy theorist were talking about . your father’s work started to ramp up in the past two years , your trips lessening more and more and your ultimate holding place being Siberia . you hated it , Siberia unlike Kazan didn’t have seasons , it was almost always cold — freezing . the spring and summer were short , they were warm but a fleeting moment . your father was always working , he never came to see you anymore , it was annoying and you were getting upset .
the guards that shadowed you were nice but they were never your father . they couldn’t be him . they couldn’t give you the same love that your father could , why did he rip it away from you like that ? what had you done to deserve it ? you didn’t upset him , you always did you work , you never asked questions . but he stole it from you anyways , deprived you of the one thing that kept you going . your studying got lazier , your schoolwork got sloppier and sloppier , you even stopped enjoying tv , you’d just stare at the walls and groan and complain about being left alone to guards that did nothing but mumble and apologize .
“ can I go to the bathroom ? dad’s not back , I’ll be back soon . pop in and out , promise . ” she spoke to the guard across the room , he was supposed to follow you everywhere but you didn’t want him to follow you there . it was invasive . you stood up , heading towards the door and he went to turn , to follow behind you but you held your hand up . by technicality you had some authority , not much but some . “ I’ll be fine , you don’t need to follow me , it’s just to the bathroom , right ? ” the guard was skeptical but let you go , however you went everywhere but the bathroom . heading down a empty hallway , guards were everywhere but you just managed to catch a time where they weren’t on duty . perhaps it was a shift change or someone just wasn’t were they were supposed to be .
your eyes came across a lab , through the window of the door you could see your father standing before a guy . his face was covered by the man’s body but he was quite obviously uncomfortable . he was strapped down to the table , body shaking and moving uncontrollably as if he was trying to escape . your father yelled , you rarely heard him yell but he was basically screeching at the man before him . you felt bad , your father sounded terrifying and then he hit him . hard . your eyes widened as you watched the treatment the man was receiving , he already looked disheveled , eyes drained of color and hope .
then the machine started and everything just got worse and worse . soon came his screams , the screams you had gotten accustomed to hearing because you didn’t truly think they were real or filled with such pain . a gasp escaped your mouth and your hands clasped over it quite quickly — eyes widening even more after you recognized your action . everyone in the room stopped , the buzzing sound from whatever machine on the man stopped and everyone turned to look at you , finally you were able to see the man’s face ; it was odd , you saw a little bit of yourself in him . you didn’t have time to stare at him because soon you locked eyes with your father and ran .
“ dad , I’m sorry , I’m sorry . I didn’t mean to walk around , I didn’t see anything , I swear ! I didn’t see anything ! ” you’d begged and pleaded for the last hour , asking for his forgiveness . it was his fault anyways , has he not deprived you of the love you so desperately needed then you would have never have gone looking . you would have never tried to see anything at all , all you wanted was him to love you . “ I do everything for you . I do everything and yet you still manage to screw things up somehow . Was going to wait till you were older for this but it seems like now is a better time than ever . ” your father grumbled before grabbing you harshly by the arm . it was insufferable , terrible , the pain spread through your entire arm immediately . you pulled against him with every bit of strength you had , though it wasn’t a lot .
the punishment for your crime was spending time in a cell . it was cold , disgusting , absolutely grimy and fillies with the stench of blood . there was a bed that had basically been ripped to shreds , the door was completely solid and no matter how many times you banged on it and begged to be let free . he never listened , it was almost as if he didn’t care . he kept you in there for the rest of the day , didn’t visit or talk to you . any time you messed up , that would be your punishment , so you made sure not to mess up often because when you did it would be hell . you hated that cell , to the point where you couldn’t sleep with the lights off and door closed anymore — too dark , only one or the other .
1959 , february 17th | “y/n karpov” , sixteen years old | subject number : 43XX
stopped talking to your father after the first time he hit you . you’d yelled at him , finally broke after six years of silence and asked what he was keeping the “soldier” downstairs for . the war was over , there was no reason to harbor a man in their basement and he responded by slapping you so hard you were disoriented . your body fell to the floor , hand covering the warmth blooming on your cheek from the pure force he held behind the hit . “ when I tell you to stop talking , you stop talking . when I tell you to be good , you be good . why do you always have to disappoint me ? ” that was the last time to disappointed him before the testing started .
it was countless injections and being wired up to machines , every day , all day , you hated them . any time you tried to move and fight back it resulted in shocks . electro shock therapy as your father called it , they needed to get you ready and in shape . for what ? you’ve never known but if you hated this then you were worried for what was next . the therapy got worse and worse , to the point were they would shock you until you couldn’t think straight , couldn’t move your body without help and your eyes couldn’t stay open . your brain was mush , you didn’t remember much during those sessions or much that happened before or after them . just the pain , all you remembered was the pain . now it was your screams that filled the room and the hallways and instead of being outside , coloring , doing homework or watching tv , you were experiencing it and you hated it .
“ You share DNA with him . That soldier , you know that ? My blood , his blood — it all runs through those veins of yours . took it from him when we captured him . You are his child , just as much as you are mine . ” you didn’t understand what he was saying , the man in there was clearly older than you but not old enough to have kids , especially not for you to be sixteen , it didn’t make sense . how did you share DNA with him ? you wanted to ask but your mouth wouldn’t open , your eyes were barley keeping open but managed a struggle just to look at him .
“ do you remember the red room ? I took you there whenever you were younger . one of those women , was lucky . the rest of them have their ovaries removed but that one , she got to keep them , for just a pinch longer than the others did . to have our child . our creation . unfortunately Barnes missed the birth of his first child but I didn’t . I was there for you . I will always be there for you , my experiment . ” your father was just rambling at this point , it didn’t make much sense . experiment ? you were an experiment ? a test subject ? for what ? “ why ? ” you just barley managed to croak out , your voice was hoarse , throat dry and cracking .
“ the winter soldier . he can topple governments , countries , win wars , our greatest weapon against our opposing forces . however where one goes right , there is always room for improvement . for more . ” now it made more sense . he was a power hungry bastard . your father was the worst man alive but you were truly his daughter . perhaps even his favorite . with the way he talked you were positive he had more , you’ve never met them , probably never would if you couldn’t get off this damn table .
almost as if he read your mind , your arms and legs were unhooked from the table , you couldn’t move them on your own but it was still a little bit freeing . only for a few moments , it was quickly replaced by you being hauled into a chair within a chamber . that was the first time you’ve ever witnessed the cyro chamber . it was colder than any winter in Siberia . the chill never left , even after the seasons passed and the years went by , the chill remained but you were barely conscious enough to remember what season it was — to even remember what seasons were .
2003 , march 9th | y/n barnes karpov , “Scylla” , sixteen years old physically , mentally ?? | subject number : 4384
you had been let out of the cyro chamber a few times , at least six times through out the years . they tried to disorient you , perhaps thinking that it would keep you from remembering where you were and what time period you had been in and honestly it worked . you could never understand what year you were in until it was too late and you were back with the uncomfortable chill . you tried your best to prove that you weren’t going to be a good investment , that you would fail in the moment of danger but with the “super soldier serum” (as they called it) running through your veins you were quite the opposite . you were strong , stronger than the average teenager , with enough strength to take in a man in his average thirties and forties even if he worked out — they tested it . young men , old men , each came in and out of the training room and as much as your body shook at the sight of them and the thought of hurting someone when you were told to attack , you did . biting just like a lap dog .
very rarely , whenever you and the soldier were awake at the same time , they’d let you train together . see who could hold their own the longest , it was always him . no matter how many times they’d run your two up against each other , he reminded you that you were nothing more than a child and it was so insulting . you trained hard and long , went through suffering and pain and torture just to be treated like a child and worthless by “the soldier” .
your hands gripped at his arm , the metal one holding you down by your throat to the ground , cutting off your air supply and keeping your body pinned to the floor . he didn’t feel a thing whenever your nails scratched against his silver arm , an attempt to rip it off or get it off of your throat , anything to get you to be able to breath again . “ off . winter , six . scylla , none . ” he finally pulled off of you , allowing you to take in greedy gasps of air . your arms flailed helplessly as you forced yourself upwards onto your feet .
your hand rung your own neck , feeling at the injury that was certainly to bruise . there was so mumbling from the soldiers behind the two of you before your “father” spoke once more . “ you two are done for the day . take them back . scylla to the chair , we have something else to do . ” the brainwashing had embedded itself in you . they didn’t need to drag you anymore unless your body was weakened but you had enough strength to walk and if you were being honest you hated their touch being on you so you would have forced yourself up anyways .
they say you down , back in the chair , usually you’d wake up here with no memories of what had happened before , only that you needed to follow the directions of the men before you and your father was the only one who truly cared about you . it was ridiculous but you couldn’t find yourself to deviate from what they said . they had strapped you down once more , body pushed backwards and the edge of the wall was your only view before your father graced your line of vision . “ we were trying to wait until she had developed further to do this but we’ve run into some complications . so what better time than the present , eh ? ” he held up a freaky looking vial , it was obvious that there was blood inside but it had mixed with something you couldn’t place .
“ inside this is the blood of our most powerful assassin , winter is good but everyone needs a femme fatale , don’t they ? but you , you my creation , my child . you will be a mix of everything great — everything good to have ever come out of this organization . mixed all into one , my hydra . ” this is what he meant all those years ago , not that you remember , when he called you an experiment . you were a mix of everything great and the only hope was that you would come out even better than everything you had been mixed with .
2016 , april 12th | y/n barnes karpov , “Scylla” , eighteen years old physically , mentally ?? | subject number : 4384
Bucky Barnes . the Winter Soldier had escaped and with him he took down Hydra , not all of it but most of it . he disappeared off the face of the earth then , you couldn’t find him , at least not for a little bit . bucharest , romania , the area felt familiar to you , every country did , as if you’d been there before . ever so slowly everything had been coming back to you , the torture , the murder , the pain . everything hurt and it never got better . your handler , at least the one you had been left with , Alexander Pierce was dead — murdered by Nick Fury . a subject was never supposed to be on their own , wander alone with no place to go but you and one objective in mind . find the winter soldier .
unfortunately following him through romania led to problems , one star spangled man , a flying bird man and a cat man . . . what had superheroes nowadays come to ? “ uhh cap , I got a child following you and Bucky down the building . ” Captain America , you’d heard of him a little during the wars and whenever they’d allow you to see what America was trying to produce in respond to the winter soldier — he was a specimen in the minds of Hydra but a joke of your own . Bucky and Steve were on foot , running across the roof of a building and you followed closely behind them , you didn’t think you’d be seen but you also didn’t account for a man with wings to following you .
you never actually engaged in the fight , didn’t need to tire yourself out for no reason , besides they didn’t think of you as a threat yet and you would have liked to keep it that way . that was until you all reached the underpass , you’d run up on them just as Bucky had been disarmed and thrown off of his motorcycle , his only way of transportation . the man dressed as a cat was seconds way from clawing the man’s face off but was thrown away by the strength of Captain America . it was intriguing to watch him fight in real time however he wasn’t your concern . without sparing him another glance you reached Bucky’s side , sirens and ringing from cop cars starting to filled the area . “ there’s a kid here ! a kid ! be careful , would you ? ” Steve pleaded to the cops , your eyes hadn’t left Bucky as you stood in front of him , mocking his movements , kneeling down on the ground and putting your hands behind your head .
“ long time no see , Отец . ” Bucky’s eyes widened at your words . he was expecting a “soldat”or maybe for you to try and kill him , force him to pay for the crimes he might have committed against you that he just didn’t remember . the cops were barely gentle with you , forcing your face into the ground with such harshness that everyone there turned their head with guilt and disgust . “ be careful with her , she’s still a kid . ” Sam spoke up , he hadn’t talked much but at least he had the balls to say something about that . Bucky’s eyes never left your , even as they dragged him away , he wouldn’t let it happen . when they placed him in a glass cage , you just in handcuffs (what a mistake) , he still never looked away . not until they forced him away from you .
“ what are you doing here ? ” Tony Stark . he wasn’t a cop , barely a S.H.I.E.L.D agent so he shouldn’t have been interrogating you but they allowed him to — god only knows why . you just looked behind him , the two way glass , trying to figure out who was back there . “ why were you following Barnes and Roger’s ? ” you could answer both questions but didn’t want to , he didn’t give you any reason to . “ come on kid , you gotta give me something- ” “ you talk too much . ” your eyes met his for once , getting a ticked off chuckle from his lips . this man was ego and pride , perhaps if you could knock him down then you’d be allowed another interrogator . “ where is . . . Barnes , I want to speak to him . ” Tony shook his head at your statement , he most likely took it as a question but you weren’t asking . “ I’m the one asking the questions here , alright ? You can see him whenever he gets done with his psych eval and his questioning . ”
you shook your head and tried to stand , the handcuffs holding you to the table being the only thing keeping you down . “ no . now . I need to go now . ” instead of answering you , Tony walked out , probably joining his friends behind the two way glass . you hated being treated like a child , being ignored , being disrespected .
Tony entered the room with the two way glass , glancing towards Romanoff . “ I don’t know what’s wrong with that kid . she’s not even afraid she just- stares , it’s freaky . are we sure she’s even real ? not something somebody built in their lab ? ” she rolled her eyes at him, “ not everyone had the money to do that Stark . you are right though , something about this kid just isn’t right . how did she know where to find Barnes ? ” before she could get an answer to her rhetorical question the sound of you breaking the handcuffs that connected you to the table , you approached the two way glass , without knowing it looking Natasha directly in the eyes . “ I want to see Barnes . now . ”
Can we please please PLEASE have part two of Brackish?
Title: Brackish [Part Two] | Read Part One Here
Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanov/Romanoff
Word Count: 3454
Warnings: Mentions of torture, mentions of mind control, mentions of ice baths, cannon typical violence, nightmares, physical testing, murder, KGB conditioning, Horrible grammar I don't proofread!
Summary: Agent Romanoff is sent into an interrogation room to break the only prisoner they pull from a Hydra compound, but things don't go exactly as planned.
[A/n: Totally wasn't expecting the response the first part got, thank you so much! Truthfully this ask and the draft was sitting in my inbox for months. This is just a bunch of fluff. I don't know where to take it from here. Hopefully you enjoy!]
You’d woken up screaming, something that never bothered Daniel Whitehall. There were stretching corridors that were damp from broken pipes and water buildup. It smelled thickly of metal and never offered any kind of warmth. It carried your agony like a music box, or a greeting card. It had amused him- his men. So, you did your best to swallow your distress. But sometimes it was impossible to tamp things down in the bridge between sleep and alertness.
It had been three days and you still expected to be jerked back into the reality. A frigid tub of ice and metal under Whitehall’s hand. You must have lost your grip on reality and the Avengers Tower, Agent Romanoff and her rigid kindness, was all a mental tactic, to account for the trauma. You’d finally been broken.
But no: Right now, as you woke up screaming as the hours rolled into the fourth day, she was there. The bed was too soft. You’d learned, and sleep did not come easy. But you drifted off in spurts and woke with air caught in your throat. Never yelling. Never in such a panic.
You didn’t remember what had startled you, but there was a cool hand against your cheek and another one splayed against your chest and worried green eyes peering into yours. You moved to fight back, wanted to push the limbs away until you realized who they belonged to. Until you breathed in that polished scent.
“Sorry, I’m sorry” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over her wrists.
She was a busy woman. You’d realized that over the past 72 hours. Agent Romanoff was in high demand, her signature was required on countless documents and many with downturned eyes stalked up to her with a nervousness that you didn’t quite understand but, you were beginning to.
After some persistent pushing from Natasha on the second day, you’d agreed to blood tests, to EKG’s and other medical trials to make sure you were relatively healthy after years of captivity. She’d promised to stay, and she did. While a certain heat and embarrassment colored your cheeks at the unspoken request, she saved your dignity that morning by not brining it up.
Natasha frowned, didn’t say anything but applied a short pressure to your jaw with her thumb before guiding a glass of water to your hand as she lowered herself to the bed. “Sip this, all of it until it’s gone. Don’t gulp, it’ll hurt your stomach.”
You nodded, doing as you were told. She watched you carefully until you finished the glass. You wanted to cower under her scrutiny, but your heartrate had slowed by the time you’d drained the water and she’d taken it the moment it was empty, her hand on your knee as a grounding source. She was like that, you’d learned, attentive and able to read what you needed though you’d not found your voice to ask.
There wasn’t a clock in the guest room. You didn’t know what time it was, but no morning light seeped through the crack in the door and sleep still clung to you like a heavy blanket. You let out a deep breath and pressed your head against the wall behind you, tempted to let your eyes droop shut, but stopped from the fear of another scream ripping through you.
“The nightmares won’t go away. They’ll come less and less, but they’ll always be there.” She swallowed audibly, ran her fingers over a raised pink scar from a blade, or a bullet, or some type of metal that could easily tear skin against her exposed muscle. “What you went through isn’t easily forgotten. You can manage the symptoms, push it to the back of your mind during your waking hours but it’s hard to fight that kind of thing when you’re asleep. You’re guard can’t always be up.”
You nodded, working your hand through your damp hair. “I’m sorry for waking you.”
“You didn’t” Natasha assured “Would you like me to stay?”
More than anything. It felt like crossing a line. There wasn’t a chair in the guest room. It was fairly sparce. A bed and a nightstand and lamp that had bathed you both in a soft golden glow. It would be easier to tell her no, to ask her to leave. But your chest wouldn’t forgive you for that.
So, you scooted over, looked at her expectantly, going as far to peel back the duvet. Natasha huffed out something akin to a laugh and laid in the spot that you had just vacated. You could feel the heat of her skin, the closeness of her as you lowered yourself down next to her. She paid you a mercy by turning the lamp off.
The two of you lay, shoulder to shoulder, breath synchronized. You couldn’t sleep. Wouldn’t. Your entire body was wound up. While Agent Romanoff’s presence was a balm, it also wound you up like a spring. You were conscious of every movement. Every twitch of your finger and tense of a muscle.
“It scares me that I can’t remember things.”
You could hear Natasha turn her head in the dark, the shift against the pillow. Her breath was warm against the side of your face. Your fingers curled against the fabric of your shirt, a stone on the center of your chest. You couldn’t remember feeling this comfortable- this at ease- in a long time.
“Do things come back when you sleep?”
It was her job, you knew, to pull things from you. In exchange for a bed and warm meal, you’d give her anything. She had quiet eyes and a quietness to her that gave away the fact that she was examining you methodically. But there was something else there that you couldn’t pinpoint. Something caring.
You turned onto your side, facing her, curling up more for your own comfort. “More of a feeling than a memory. Being there, I recall everything. Whitehall, his brainwashing, his tests and his tortures. His why’s and his motives are foggy. It was like he just wanted to inflict pain. But at his core. At Hydra’s core, I know that’s not true.”
Natasha adjusted on the bed, turned to face you. Inches apart. Her nose was close enough in the dark to bump against your own. Neither of you spoke for a moment, hands brushing closely like a bridge uncrossed.
“I worry that they changed me in way’s that can’t be unchanged, but can’t recall who I was before they’ve changed me. That they kept me alive because they were… succeeding in something that they hadn’t before.” You let out a heavy breath, it splayed hotly against Natasha’s chest, warmed her. “That deep down inside, something uncontrollable is there.”
Natasha made a small noise in the back of her throat that could only be described as a whimper. Tentatively, she’d shifted in the quiet, had found the edge of your jaw in the darkness and traced the sharpness of it with her touch. You let your eyes flutter shut, leaned into it.
Soon, her palm was against your cheek, warm from the prospect of sleep. Her hold soft as she pulled you forward, the initial shock of the swift movement replaced by that detergent scent and the instant comfort. An undignified grunt escaped you when you slotted so perfectly against Natasha’s front.
You’d learned rather quickly that she liked to show her protection.
When your blood had been drawn, the tech on the medical floor insisted of her credentials but quickly blanched with a glare from the Black Widow herself and the assured hand at the base of your spine. You’d shown your strength during the physical trials as they monitored your heartrate during a mile run, and Natasha had watched with a warning stare as another tech adjusted the censors.
And now, she wrapped her arms around your center and hooked her leg over your own. She was tense until she felt the coolness of your nose against her pulse point, the way you nuzzled against her, sighed into her comfort instead of tensed, as if she feared of rejection.
“We’ll figure it out.” Her voice was a rumble, your ear this close to her chest. “Get some sleep. I’ve got you.”
There was a sensor under your collarbone, one on either side of your chest, and another directly under your ribs. Two more that had been stuck to your abdomen. The adhesive was unbearably itchy, and you had half the mind to tear them away. A huff pulled uncomfortably at you. Another huff earned you a sharp glare from the woman wrapping your hands.
Natasha was on her knees for you. Not for you, but certainly in front of you. Either way it made you blush profusely. She worked with intention, making sure that the next trial they were putting you through was safe enough for you to participate in. A tech had offered to do this for her. For you. But she’d refused.
“Stop pouting, sweetheart. This is the last one and then they’ll leave you alone for at least the weekend.”
“Promise?”
Natasha sighed and her exhale was hot against the skin on your chest, forming a valley of goosebumps. You swallowed back a shiver. “No. Now sit back.”
You did as you were told, all the while, another SHIELD tech kept a keen eye on the both of you. Nameless, faceless, dressed in black. You almost preferred them this way. Whitehall was a constant for you, a villain that always signified a form of hurt and anguish. The constant revolving door of men and women made it impossible to link a test with a face.
Natasha was almost the opposite. You were starting to associate that piney, vanilla bergamot scent of hers with safety. It scared you. Her hands were assured and so were her movements. You were very aware that she had been with you nearly all hours of the day since you’d been pulled from the wreckage of all you’d known for possible years. Stockholm syndrome, some would call it.
You approached it with reckless abandon. You didn’t care. She was warmth. She was opposite of ice baths and frigid water that you choked on until you blacked out. She was lean muscle and healed scars and tender green eyes. She made it easier to think. She gave orders that were easy to follow: To sit back. To Stop Pouting. To Get some Sleep. You could do those things. Those things were easy.
“We’ll start at a weight of fifty and steadily increase until you cannot support the bar any further.” The nameless, dark-eyed man said, not looking up from his tablet. “If at any point, you feel uncomfortable during the test, please alert me or Agent Romanoff. Do you have any questions?”
You shook your head, laid back on the cool bench and adjusted yourself until you stared up at the metal ceiling. It looked taller from this angle, impossible to reach. Black weights were saddled on either side. Agent Romanoff’s presence was at your six the entire time. Lingering, watching with careful and apt attention.
“Alright. You may begin. Make sure not to lock your arms.”
The bar was nothing in your hands, a slight nuisance, if anything. Ever-so-slowly the weight was increased: Fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty. All the way to 700 before another huff left your lungs, chin tipping towards Natasha as you stared up at her. Pouting. You were absolutely pouting.
They were being methodical about this, and that also meant it was taking ages. One of Natasha’s brows was quirked and she worried the nail of her thumb between her teeth as they upped the weight to a solid 1,000. You adjusted your hold on the bar. Nothing more, nothing less. There was no strain, no sweat. No spike in heartrate.
“Okay. I think we know enough.” Natasha finally barked. “Right?”
“But I-“
“Right?”
Sure, it had only been a few days, but you knew that tone and it was enough for the SHIELD agent to snap his jaw shut and for you to replace the bar before sitting back up. The test, you were sure, was far from over. But there was such a finality in the demand.
You knew you had some strength to you, sure. Daniel Whitehall wouldn’t keep you locked up the way he did, in a steel-enforced cell, if that weren’t the case. The binds you’d sometimes recall were much too thick for anyone that had the normal stamina, someone who could survive his trials. You don’t remember being tested like this before, your limits pushed.
The SHIELD agent tapped at his screen, letting out a non-committal noise “Well, your strength is remarkable. You say you don’t remember a thing? I think you could benefit from some memory recovery sensory therapy.”
Natasha rumbled in the back of her throat, snatching the tablet from the man before shoving him roughly from the room. You watched the display with raised brows, the protective edge to her that you knew was there, but hadn’t been privy to at this degree. He protested, but didn’t’ overtly stop her. Not even when she slammed and locked the door with the waggle of her fingers and the lowering of the blinds.
“The know at all’s from logistics get on my nerves.”
She wouldn’t look at you, instead clicking off the screen and throwing the tablet onto the counter. There was a light blush to her cheeks. You peeled off your shirt, almost in habit now, leaving you in nothing but one of the agencies issued sports bras. The adhesive was getting too irritating.
Your eyes lingered on her. “Uh-huh, is that all?”
“Yes, that’s all.”
But when those deep green eyes snapped up to yours, the way her breath hitched betrayed her. You’d effectively flustered the Black Widow herself and it brought a sort of heady confidence to you that you quite enjoyed. You ripped the sensor from below your ribcage away, the stickiness making an odd noise as it pulled away.
“I don’t know what you’re smirking about, what he was suggesting is out of the question. They’ve run enough tests on you to determine that Hydra didn’t place any type of chip in your brain. They didn’t change your bone density or alter your blood chemistry. With your added strength, your speed.” She closed the distance between you, ripping another sensor off with little abandon, her hands cold against your skin. “We’re looking at an infinity stone.”
You grunted under her touch, fingers soothing over the spot she’d just torn, a silent apology. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Wanda Maximoff, do you know her?”
You shook your head, remaining still as she moved to the next sensor. Agent Romanoff pulled with the same quickness as before, but was softer with her hands, instantly using the coolness of her palm to quiet the sting that soon followed. You’d given up peeling them away yourself. Instead, you peered up with her with watery eyes, blinking and doe-like. They’d melt her if you weren’t careful, and it seemed like you never were.
“Hydra conducted experiments on Wanda and her twin brother Pietro using something called the Mind Stone. A very powerful mineral that ultimately should have killed them, but it didn’t. It changed their DNA and gave them abilities. Pietro super-speed and Wanda the ability to manipulate the world around her.” Natasha’s voice was smooth as she spoke, the final sensor ripped away, you watched her do it, frowning at the red mark it left behind.
After a few moments of labored silence, she dragged her touch feather-light against your jaw and guided your attention back to her own. “They think Whitehall got ahold of the power stone, and they think it was used to torture you for years to replicate the success achieved with the Maximoff’s.”
“I don’t think he was very successful,”
Natasha’s grip tightened on your chin, not enough to wound, never enough, but a soft warning. “Nonsense. You’re more capable than you think.” Her thumb ran over the blush that was suddenly running across the bridge of your nose and your cheek. “Let’s take a break from all these boring trials. I want to show you something.”
There was a basement that resided below the cacophony of spruced up cells in the Avengers tower. You’d stood shoulder to shoulder with Agent Romanoff and watched as the numbers descended. Her scent had soothed you, even as the cold infiltrated the elevator and reminded you too much of a metal tub, safe for the water.
It jolted to a stop before the anxiety swirling in your lower belly could solidify. Natasha led you into another corridor that looked like all the other corridor’s in the tower. She walked with no urgency and you followed with the same pace. Finally, you reached another non-descript door, only accessed by the card on Agent Romanoff’s belt.
You were hit by the sharp scent of decaying paper, quiet leather and dust. There was a coolness here. A dull light that Natasha flicked on. A heaviness that reminded you of a library. There was a history here that told you it hadn’t been accessed in a long time.
Copy boxes lined bookshelves bracketed to the walls, a single table with a few chairs sat pushed in the corner. Natasha seemed to know exactly where she was going, exactly the files she was looking for. “We’re a multi-trillion-dollar organization, yet, all of the incriminating evidence about the Avengers exists in this singular room.”
You flinched, eyes meeting Natasha after she hauled the off-white box to the center of the table. You watched her carefully, not moving from your rooted spot at the edge of the doorway. You blinked at her, mouth slightly agape. She was trusting you with this. She was trusting you with this?
“Natasha you can’t… you don’t have to…”
“I want to. Come, sit.”
The chair was frigid against your skin, the whole room kept tepid to preserve the documents. Natasha sat adjacent to you, your knees brushing in a surge of warmth. Neither of you moved to pull away. She pushed the box to the far end and pulled out the first file, edging her fingers against the manila.
Before she could pry the cover back, you gripped her hand, squeezed it with fervor. “Wait, you can’t do this. Agent Romanoff, if you… if you tell me this, and I’m- if Whitehall did something that fundamentally changed me and I turn around and betray you, then I’d never be able to forgive myself.”
“Mm” She hummed, frowning down at the file. “There’s more to you than that.”
“And if there’s not? I don’t even have a name, and you’re about to trust me with everything from your past, everything you’ve worked so hard to scrub. I can’t let you do that.”
“You’re not letting me do anything, darling. I didn’t scrub anything, I embraced it.”
Her other hand engulfed the one that had covered the one that had grasped her own. You hadn’t realized that you were squeezing so hard for purchase. Goosebumps covered your entire body, and you were trying not to tremble. It felt as if your bones were trying to claw their way from your skin. You ground your teeth together to keep them from clacking.
Natasha’s hand left yours for only a moment, peeling the cover of the file back, moving it in between the both of you. “I was born in Stalingrad Russia, indoctrinated into the Red Room by a man named General Dreykov. The Red Room was a program designed to create sleeper agents utilized by the KGB. Young girls were taken against their wills and molded into perfect killing machines.”
Your thumb moved over her knuckles, scarred from years of strain. She grasped back, grounding herself.
“For years, I was just that. Ruthless. Cruel. I spilled an impossible amount of blood because that’s what I was trained to do. It was a cycle. Wake up, kill, sleep. Wake up, kill, sleep. Sometimes they’d throw a little torture in there just to spice things up.”
You knit your eyebrows together, a small whimper escaping you.
“Tough room.” Natasha gave you a sad smile “milaya devochka, eventually, someone saw through the dripping ledger and what Dreykov had done. They saw me. That made a world of difference when the programming I had was all I’d ever known.”
You swallowed thickly, fingers tracing a raised pink scar at the edge of her palm. You let out a shaky breath. “And you… can be that person for me?”
Joaquin Torres x FormerHYDRA!Reader (gender-neutral, second person).
Mentions of identity struggles and PTSD. Emotional breakdown. Negative self-talk / self-worth issues.
Soft hurt/comfort. Slow-burn love confession. Happy ending.
English is not my first language. I search a lot of words.
More of my work
Blown Candles
The concept of a birthdate was once reduced to a cold line on a file folder: HYDRA Asset 13-71. Years had passed without candles, or cake, or even a mention of the day. Even after the Avengers tore the system apart, even after freedom came wrapped in confusion and sunlight and too many new clothes, the date never felt worth honoring. So you don’t celebrate birthdays.
Bucky Barnes, former Winter Soldier, gets it. Of course he does. He’s the one who found you, skin and bones and half-mind, in a bunker no one else thought to check. He’s the one who sat beside you through your first panic attack in the compound, who taught you how to breathe again. He doesn't push, he remembers.
So when the calendar rolls toward that day —the day you once guessed might be close enough to call a birthday— Bucky just makes sure the fridge has your favorite drink and leaves you be. Sam Wilson gives a nod.
But then came Joaquin Torres. Because if being Bucky Barnes’ unofficial trainee means tagging along behind Captain America, then tagging along behind Sam Wilson means you also get stuck with his second: a golden-retriever-in-human-form with too much energy and too much heart and absolutely no respect for emotional walls.
“You’ve never had a birthday party?” he asked once, like the very idea was illegal. You shrugged. “I’m fixing that.”
You thought he was joking, and Lord save you, because you should’ve known better.
It starts small. Texts about cake preferences. Polls sent to the group chat you didn’t know you were in. Questions about color palettes and how you feel about party hats. You ignore all of them but Joaquin doesn’t seem deterred and by the time your maybe-birthday week arrives, he’s already roped in Sam, Bucky, and a few other people who know your taste in music, and even had excitedly promised to bring balloons.
The worst part is: it’s not malicious. He doesn’t mean to overwhelm. He’s just… thrilled. He wants you to be happy, like a friend would, like you matter. It would be easier if he were annoying. But he’s not: he’s warm, loud, funny and kind. And that’s the problem, because you can feel the walls starting to crack.
The not-so-secret party happens on a Saturday.
Everyone pretends it's a surprise. That’s the first joke. The second joke is you, standing in the center of Sam’s townhouse, surrounded by bright ligths and people who are genuinely happy to see you, and trying not to crawl out of your own skin.
You’d tried to prepare: picked out something to wear that didn’t scream discomfort, practiced neutral small talk and even told yourself, over and over, it’s just a gathering. It’s fine. It’s one night.
But then someone starts singing, Sam claps you on the shoulder and calls you “birthday royalty.” And then there’s a cake with your name on it. Joaquin finds you, practically vibrating with joy.
“I told them you’d love it,” he beams. “Didn’t I tell you? Look at everyone. You’re loved, okay?”
He says it like it's a fact. Like it’s obvious and you’re supposed to accept it without question. But instead, your chest tightens, the music feels louder and the room smaller.
You give a tight nod, try to smile, but he doesn’t catch the warning in your eyes. He keeps going, offering to light the candles, joking about who might cry first during the toast, trying to hand you a party hat that you definitely didn’t ask for.
“C’mon,” Joaquin says, his hand landing on your shoulder again. “Let yourself have this.”
Something in you snaps.
"Stop!" It’s sharper than you meant it to be. The room stills. Your voice has weight, slicing clean through the noise. "I didn’t want any of this, Joaquin."
You don’t mean to look at him like that. Hurt flickers behind his eyes before he schools it into concern.
“I— Sorry, I just thought—”
“Yeah,” you snap, voice flat, brittle. “That’s the problem with you, Joaquin. You never ask. You just do.”
His mouth opens, confused. "What does that mean?"
“It means you throw parties without asking. You make assumptions. You think you know what people need just because your heart’s in the right place.”
The room is silent now –too silent. Someone even lowers the music and you hear your own breath coming too fast.
You shake your head, suddenly exhausted. "I didn’t want this. I don’t want this. I didn’t ask to be celebrated. I didn’t ask for people to pretend like the day I was born means anything."
That last part slips out before you can stop it.
Joaquin’s face drops, expression cracking wide open. He takes a step toward you. “I—”
“Don’t.”
You’re already moving, shoulder brushing past him, eyes on the door. Joaquin instinctively starts to follow, but Bucky moves faster.
His metal arm rises firm. It rests across Joaquin’s chest like a quiet wall. “Not now.”
“But—” Joaquin looks at him, helpless. “I didn’t mean to hurt—”
“You didn’t mean to,” Bucky agrees, voice low. “But you did. Now is time for you both to breathe.”
Joaquin’s jaw tightens, throat working. He watches the door long after it shuts behind you. Outside, the night wraps around you like armor. Inside, Joaquin stands in the middle of a party no one’s celebrating anymore.
You're already curled up by the time the door of your room shuts behind you. Boots kicked off, jacket tossed somewhere on the floor, limbs pulled tight like you're trying to fold yourself smaller than the ache in your chest. The apartment is quiet —too quiet— and it lets your mind run wild. You lie there in the dark, eyes fixed on nothing, thoughts crawling in every mission, every order and every face you can't forget. Everything they made you do.
And then the moment you were freed; like waking up gasping from a nightmare only to find you're still underwater. The months after that came with the learning, the guilt, the therapy and Bucky’s patient silence. You'd made so much progress, or so everyone said. But now all you can feel is the weight of the cake you didn’t want, the decorations, the music, the people cheering for a day you wished didn’t exist. And Joaquin’s bright, stupid grin. So excited, so certain he was doing something good.
You hate that you snapped. You hate that he didn’t ask. You hate that deep down, a small piece of you wanted to deserve all that celebration. The thought burns in your throat.
Then a soft knock on your door makes you freeze.
“Hey.” Joaquin’s voice, quieter than usual. “Can I…? Just talk. For a minute?”
You don’t answer, but you don’t tell him to go away either.
After a few seconds, the door creaks open. Joaquin steps in slowly, like he's entering the cage of something wounded. He doesn't try to smile, just closes the door behind him and looks at you —small and coiled on the edge of your bed, barely a shape in the dim light. He takes a careful seat on the floor, back resting against your dresser like he’s grounding himself before speaking.
"I'm sorry," he begins, voice soft.
You cut him off like a wire snapped too tight. "You don't have to be sorry. You didn’t know. Because I never told you. Because I don’t tell anyone."
You're sitting up now, words tumbling fast, too sharp.
"I hate my birthday. I hate that I was born. I hate what I’ve done, what they made me do. I hate waking up and remembering that every year, and I hate people clapping and singing and pretending like I should be grateful for it all. Like being born was some gift instead of a sentence."
Your voice breaks. You don’t look at him.
"I don’t want candles or balloons or some dumb cake with my name on it. I didn’t earn that. I’ll never earn that. So no, Joaquin, I didn’t want the party. I didn’t want the attention. I didn’t want to feel this again. And the worst part is—"
You stop yourself, breathing ragged.
"The worst part is, you don’t even ask. You just decide. Like you know what I need. Like you know me."
Joaquin doesn’t flinch nor pushes back. He just watches you with something heavy in his eyes. And then, quietly, simply:
"I'm in love with you."
The words fall like thunder in a dead-silent room. You blink. The air goes still, thick, impossible, like all the oxygen’s been sucked out of the world. You stare at him and nothing comes out. Just the sound of your pulse crashing in your ears.
Joaquin doesn’t move. He gives you a second, maybe two, watching the way your chest barely rises, how still you’ve gone. Then he speaks quiet and firm. Honest in a way that strips everything bare.
“You think I don’t know you,” he says, “but I do.”
His voice doesn’t tremble. It aches.
“I see the way you carry things no one should ever have to. I see it in your hands when you make a warm drink for someone who’s hurting. In your shoulders when you come back from missions that remind you of places you’d rather forget. I see it when you go quiet after a nightmare, and pretend you’re just tired, like I can’t tell the difference.”
You don’t say anything. Your throat is tight.
“I see the way you try,” he says, softer now. “Every single day. Even when you think no one’s watching. Even when you think you’re failing. I see the way you’re learning how to live again. The way you listen to birds in the morning like you’re hearing them for the first time. The way you flinch at your own joy, like you don’t think you deserve it.”
He looks down for a moment, breath catching, then back up, meeting your eyes like he’s never meant anything more.
“And you do deserve it. You deserve all of it.”
A pause.
“When you laugh at some dumb joke I make, it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. When you challenge me, push me to do better, be better—it's because you believe in me. Even when I don’t believe in myself. You see me. And somehow, even after everything, you let me see you.”
He swallows.
“I’m in love with you. Not in spite of what you’ve been through, not because I think I can fix you. But because you're already doing the work. You're surviving. You're growing. And even on the days you think you’re not —you still choose to stay.”
He leans forward slightly, voice breaking now.
“So yeah. I didn’t ask about the party and I’m sorry for that. But I’d never do anything to hurt you on purpose. I just wanted one good thing for you. Because you’re a good thing. You deserve to be celebrated. At least, to me.”
You’re frozen. Not because you’re unsure, but because for the first time in maybe your whole life you believe him and it cracks something open in your chest. First, a tremble in your hands, then your breath stutters, shallow and uneven, before it collapses entirely into a sob. The kind that’s been waiting for years to be let out. You press your palms to your face, trying to stop it, contain it, anything, but it’s useless.
Joaquin is already reaching for you when you fall into him slowly, like gravity is finally working right. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your arms wrap around him tight, trembling, clutching like you’ll disappear if you don’t hold on. You bury your face into his shoulder, and the sobs come harder, messier. Is ugly but real.
And Joaquin just holds you, without flinching or rushing. Just his arms around you, firm and steady, one hand rubbing slow circles against your back, the other curling gently around the back of your neck.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice soft and warm in your hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
You don’t know how long you cry. But Joaquin never lets go. Not once.
When you finally pull back, your face blotchy and wet, he doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t look away. He brushes your cheek with his thumb, gentle as the breeze outside the window.
“I mean it,” he says. “We’ll take it slow. We’ve got time. We can figure this out together. Heal together.”
You pull back enough to look at him —really look at him— and your voice comes quiet, raw.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be... normal. I don’t know how to be loved like this, Joaquin.”
His hand stays at your cheek, grounding. “I’m not asking you to be normal,” he says, smiling gently. “Just real. Just you.”
You sniffle, eyes wet again but softer this time. “I want to try. I want to… I want this. With you. If you’ll be patient with me.”
Joaquin nods without hesitation. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You both breathe that truth for a moment, sitting with it in the hush of the room, curled close on the bed like the world’s been muffled outside the door. When you finally settle beside him, wrapped in the quiet, the warmth, your voice breaks through again —tentative, unsure.
“Can I… kiss you?”
Joaquin’s smile blooms slow and bright, and he leans in, just a little.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “You can.”
And when your lips meet, soft and trembling, it doesn’t feel like a firework or a movie moment. It feels like something better. Like safety; like choosing each other, here and now, broken pieces and all. You kiss him again, but this time, you let yourself believe it’s okay to want more.
! Y/N is Wanda (12 yrs) and Pietro (12 yrs + 12 mins)’s older brother (16 yrs) and the later relationship with Nat is purely platonic !
ALSO, I MADE THIS SO THAT YOU THREE WERE TAKEN UN-CONSENSUALLY WHILE WANDA AND PIETRO WERE 9 YEARS OLD AND Y/N WAS 13 YEARS OLD
N/N = A nickname for you
Bolded sentences your thoughts.
I’ll make a master list for this soon to be series.
Word Count: 2.1K
—(START)—
THRASH
THRASH
THRASH
The skin of your back burned. From the top of your neck to where your pants begin, you were bleeding badly. Tears spilled uglily down your face but you didn’t dare make a sound. You knew it’d only make this worse, you knew better.
Agent Niko, the HYDRA agent in charge of punishing you and the twins (yes, I’m making this a thing), had just spent the last hour whipping your bare back. Pietro was in your shared cell, he’d slammed into a wall and got to leave once he passed out. But they were pushing Wanda far past what she was capable of. She was strong for 10 years old, but it has been hours of training. She needed rest. Unlike you, you had the strength to keep going.
You couldn’t just stand by and watch as tears began to spill out of your poor sister’s eyes.
—(FLASHBACK)—
Wanda raised her arms once again, eyes tearing up as she pleaded,
“Pl-Please, sir! I-I can’t do train anymore!”
“YOU WILL OR SO HELP ME, GIRL, I WILL MAKE SURE YOU WON’T STAND UP NEXT MORNING FROM THE BEATING YOU’LL RECEIVE FROM ME! PERSONALLY! THIS IS YOUR PURPOSE AND YOU WILL DO AS YOU ARE TOLD!”
The agent yelled back. His brown eyes brimmed with purple. He had been experimented on too…
At least he got to choose this life…
You shouldn’t have thought about him like that but you did. You didn’t ask for this crap, you didn’t ask to be a lab rat, and he didn’t have any rights to yell at Wanda like that.
You stayed still as he yelled at Wanda. You don’t know why. Shock or maybe even fear? No, that wasn’t it, this had happened before. It wasn’t a new discovery of how cruel HYDRA could be. You had first hand experience with HYDRA’s “love”.
Anger. That was it. You were mad. It felt like your feet had melted to the floor from how mad you’d gotten over this.
Your hands… they were scorching hot. But it didn’t hurt like fire had before HYDRA took you. It felt… almost good.
The experiments that Hydra did on you, they gave you powers. You could create fire out of thin air from your body, it basically healed you. It did take a big toll on your body though so your body developed a heightened endurance and strength capacity. Obviously you still get tired but it’s a hell of a lot harder!
Then, he pushed Wanda. She fell onto the floor and covered her face as the man raised his hand once again.
“I’M GONNA TEACH YOU A LITTLE LESSON ON HOW TO PERSEVERE THROUGH PAIN, LITTLE GIRL!”
“NO, YOU AREN’T GONNA TOUCH HER!”
You yelled at him but immediately regretted giving up the element of surprise as two of the large HYDRA agents standing by rushed towards you.
You didn’t have time to think about it though, you raised your open balms and blasted two fireballs at the brown eyed agent just as you were tackled into the ground.
Your training had been going pretty well because they’d told you that you were almost ready for “the mission”. You knew what that entailed. The demons at HYDRA were sending you after a different group of demons called The Avengers.
Kinda stupid name if you ask me but at least it’s not HYDRA. Now THAT’S a corny name.
The two fire balls, almost perfectly aimed, hit him right on the side of the face. If those two agents hadn’t grabbed you, you could’ve fully blinded him. You’ll take making a real life Zuko though, he deserved to see what you did to him.
The fall wasn’t soft nor were the agents who were bringing you to the “timeout room” as certain HYDRA agents called it.
—(END OF FLASHBACK)—
That’s what lead for you to be in this situation now.
Every experiment in the “HYDRA family” knew and was actively scared of the “timeout room”. It was a symbol of discipline and pain. It was separate from the cells you’d sleep in but sometimes, in the closest cell, you could hear when someone screamed if you were quiet.
The room was grey, being made completely of concrete. Every wall except for the wall with the door was the same. There was one difference amongst the walls though. The dried blood that stained the floor and walls. HYDRA didn’t care enough to clean the room after every use so it happened once a month. The room was usually just messy enough to gag about on your first visit. In the middle was a light hanging from the ceiling, a black chair, and a black table.
You were on your hands and toes on the floor, they had made you hold a plank. The whole time. The ground beneath your hands was cold but a welcome difference to the fire in your back (something you never thought you’d experience ever again).
This is the worst they’d ever beaten you throughout your three years here. Your nose was bleeding, your eye was black and blue, your back’s blood had begun to drip onto the floor. Your abs were sore from the hard position and your wrists felt heavy as if you were going to collapse any second. In all honesty, you were. You’ve lost a lot of blood.
You looked up at Niko just in time.
“Repeat after me, rat... I'm the problem, I am HYDRA’s perfect soldier, I will work harder.”
Niko spoke in a single toned voice you were very familiar with. He used it every time you got in trouble.
You were in trouble a lot over the years, you didn’t know how you managed to climb the ranks with the amounts of visits to this room.
Most of it wasn’t actually your fault. You couldn’t bear to see Wanda or Pietro taken away or punished with pain so whenever they broke something or anything you could chalk up to being your fault, you’d take the blame. And, in turn, you’d take the punishment too.
They’re just kids, you’re their older brother. It was your responsibility to protect them. Your parents died when you were just 10, they’d only been 6 years old (don’t ask how CPS didn’t come get you guys). They barely remember them. It was you guys against the world until HYDRA.
I don’t wanna say that crap. It wasn’t my fault that the dude was a jerk.
But if you wanted medical attention… you were gonna have to give them their key sentence. Sometimes you think that Niko gets off to hearing you say that line every time.
You take a big breath, trying to steady your voice as if this didn’t affect you in the slightest bit. Even if it didn’t fully work out..
“I-I’m the pro-problem… I am HY-HYDRA’s perfect s-soldier… I will work har-harder…”
You were barely understandable at this point. Niko seemed to think it was enough luckily.
BAM
Niko harshly dropped the whip he used on you onto the ground. Usually, you would’ve called this a stupid move but right now, you were too weak to do anything other than finally having the satisfaction of dropping onto the floor.
You closed your eyes, taking in the silence. Tears now fully covered your cheeks as the pain had time to settle in now.
He called for a medic. He had no hurry, if you died it’d just be one less annoyance in his day. You felt many hands grab you, lifting you up. But before you could open your eyes and check where you were, you blacked out.
—(IN THE MORNING)—
The world comes back from a blur to clear. You're laying down in your cot, as you do every morning. The morning HYDRA agent hasn’t come. It’s at most 4:55 AM. On your right, Wanda lays snuggled into your side.
She’s always been scared of being alone in the dark ever since you guys were taken. It was midnight. You were just walking home from the convenience store when HYDRA’s car pulled up. You had no reason to run, you didn’t know that you should’ve. They slowed down, jumped out of the car and grabbed you guys.
Pietro laid on your right side. Usually, he is fine enough to sleep on his own cot but I guess seeing you unconscious freaked him out enough to wanna share.
You sat up from your position, fighting the urge to groan from pain. You didn’t want to wake the twins by being loud. You already pushed the line a lot by sitting up.
Luckily for you, your experimentation gave you a great healing factor/system to compensate for the fire on your skin (you are immune to fire damage all together). Your back still hurts but according to the bandages on you, you stopped bleeding during the night but it’s definitely still scabbed over.
You touch your face a bit, just to test. Your black eye has healed up and stopped swelling. Your nose as well has healed and luckily didn’t break in the room. It was only bleeding.
Every morning, they throw your breakfast at you (it’s always protein bars or sandwiches in plastic wrap or stuff that won’t splatter. Hard things for the most part). Not underhand. A full strike. They want to make it so that you can be ready with a split sound. You’ve conditioned yourself to wake up before breakfast is served so that you can cover Wanda and Pietro under you so that when they throw it, it only hits you and not them.
You lay there, Wanda and Pietro safely (and soundly) below you. You take a moment to revel in the peace. The beauty of silence and peace.
SCCRRRRR
The door to your cell slides open with a creek, showing its years in one sound. An agent walks in, holding food. Protein bars and bottles of water.
You tense up a bit, waiting for the strikes. And a few seconds later, they hit you. Not all at once but one at a time dropping to the floor afterwards. You flinch a bit at each one. It doesn’t hurt anymore but when they first did it, it made you scream. The early conditioning just left you flinching now.
Once the agent left, chuckling to himself as he shut the door, you got off the bed and picked up the food. You put it on Pietro’s bed, it’d be safe there while you put a shirt on and woke the twins up.
You had only a long sleeve mission regulated HYDRA shirt. It wasn’t the most comfortable material but after all these years, it felt luxurious to wear. It would cover the bandage from the twins who would be worried if they saw too much which was a bonus to it.
Now fully clothed, you go to your cot once more and shake Wanda and Pietro’s shoulders gently, not wanting to scare them.
“C’mon guys. It’s 5:00 AM now, it’s time to eat.”
Wanda lets out a yawn as she slowly sits up from the cot, letting herself fully wake up before she stands up.
As for Pietro, he is sitting on his cot, waiting to eat his rations before you could even turn your head to watch him run. He was always an early bird when it came to breakfast.
I guess running that fast has to come with a fast metabolism.
“… are you okay now, N/N?”
You freeze up a bit as Wanda asks, referring to your back. For a split moment, you’d forgotten that they’d seen your bandages. You know that Wanda asked purely out of concern but you felt bad that you made her worry about you.
“Of course I am, sis. I’m the strongest man around, remember? If Y/N Maximoff is ever hurt..?”
You pause your sentence, waiting for Wanda to finish the line you always tell them. But before Wanda can start, Pietro interjects in an upbeat voice.
“Just wait a couple minutes!”
You all laugh for a minute at the interruption from Pietro. You have a fast heal so it’s only a few minutes wait for minor injuries (which is the only thing you usually let them see) to heal fully.
And once again, like before they’d woken up, the cell was easy. Warm. It felt almost peaceful.
But as Robert Frost said, “Nothing Gold Can Stay”.
BOOOOM
Rubble and debris flies everywhere as an explosion comes from the wall outside of your cell.
—(THE END)—
My first fic, please be nice!!!
I’m in the works for a part 2 as well (If you want it)!!!
This story was written for @jtargaryen18's Jamie's Halloween Challenge 2023
My prompt was: The Unexpected Visitor: On Halloween night, an unexpected visitor knocks at your door. It's not a trick-or-treater but something else.
Square filled for @buckybarnesbingo: U2: “I knew it was you.”
Summary: The Unexpected Visitor: On Halloween night, an unexpected visitor knocks at your door. It's not a trick-or-treater but something else.
Trope: Villain Reader
Pairing: Winter Soldier x former Handler!(fem) Reader
Warnings: angst, fear, implied revenge, mentions of Hydra/Bucky’s past, implied/past abuse/sexual abuse on the Winter Soldier, hand around throat, no happy ending
Rating: Mature
Words: 1,1 k+
Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023
Life is funny, isn’t it? How does the saying go? The past always catches up.
You can run. You can hide. You can change your name and appearance. But you cannot run away from the guilt you feel, nor the sins you committed.
In the waking hours, you regret your doings. And at night, you have nightmares. You can see every soul you ever hurt. Guilt is eating on your body and soul.
You’ll never be able to wash away the sins sticking to your skin.
How many souls did you doom? How many people did you condemn to commit crimes in the name of an organization so evil that its name alone plants fear into people's minds?
Hydra.
You’re not an innocent victim. Back then, you willingly worked for them. It was the money they offered that made you forget about morals and humanity.
Growing up poor, but with a sharp mind and ambitions you’ll never be able to reach without money does this to people. If you see a chance, you take it. Sometimes you sell your soul on the way.
After Hydra fell apart, you realized how evil the people you were working for truly were. Until that day, they protected you at all costs.
Being one of their only experts on mind manipulation made you irreplaceable to them. That was, of course, until you made one mistake, and their most important asset managed to escape.
The Winter Soldier.
Your voice and gentle words didn’t lure him in any longer. The asset learned that you were just another monster keeping him hostage. He broke out of the chair during your last session and killed every soul trying to stop him.
You’re the last handler alive. The only one he didn’t kill…yet.
He’s out there, waiting for his chance to get his hands on you. You know your time is running out. The moment he stepped out of the darkness to join forces with Captain America, you knew your life was over.
On the run, you barely have the time to catch your breath until one of the Avengers shows up. More than once you barely escaped.
You’re so tired of running away.
Night terrors keep you awake, and you’re slowly losing your mind.
Every shadow looks like him – the man you forced to do unspeakable things.
Not only in the name of Hydra.
No. You abused your powers and made him your compliant toy. On the cold nights, when you were stuck at the Hydra base, when no one was around but you and the asset you found shelter in his lap.
He wasn’t himself. It was wrong. But you already crossed so many lines you didn’t care about the consequences.
What’s one more sin? Right?
If the dark side inside of your soul already consumed all the light left, nothing is keeping you from taking what you want. And you wanted him.
That’s in the past. Now, that you have faced the consequences of your doings, you know every step you took, guided by Hydra, led you down the road to hell.
Your soul is lost. There is nothing you can do about it but sit and wait for the end to come.
If you can see his steel-blue eyes one last time before you take your last breath, it will be enough to let you rest in peace…
You found shelter at an old, abandoned Hydra hideout. You’re the only soul left knowing about this place.
It’s not much, a cabin that’s falling apart, and nothing but trees around. It’s cold, and the fireplace isn’t working as it should.
You’re used to hiding in such places. There’s no place for luxury and coziness in your life. That’s in the past. You don’t deserve good things in your life.
It’s past midnight when you wake from another nightmare. You wheeze and press your hand to your heart, inhaling and exhaling slowly to calm your racing heart.
Cold sweat makes your clothes stick to your skin, and you shudder at the coldness creeping into your bones.
Glancing at the new burner phone you huff. It’s Halloween out of all days.
You slowly slip out from under the covers, hissing as your feet touch the cold floor. When you are about to walk toward the small kitchenette a knock makes you freeze.
It's not a trick-or-treater, that’s for sure.
Holding your breath, you turn around to stare at the door. You press your hand to your heart and close your eyes. God forgot about you years ago, but you sent a prayer, nonetheless.
This is it. The moment you’ve been waiting for.
Your feet carry you toward the door on their own. Muscle memory is a handy thing. Isn’t it? Even if your mind is a mess, your body knows what to do.
It’s like your body is drawn to the person knocking at your door.
Your trembling hand grips the door handle, you take a deep breath and open it.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Soldat.” He’s as surprised as you are as you look him straight in the eyes. His face is hidden by the mask you know so well, but his eyes give away his excitement. “I’m glad you finally came to collect.”
The Winter Soldier dips his head. This is not what he expected you to do. You’ve been hiding from him and his allies for years. And now, you stand in front of him, shivering at the cold.
You’re not the powerful handler he remembers. “I knew it was you,” he says. His voice sounds different but as dangerous as ever. “Steve didn’t want to believe me. He said you are dead.”
“He’s not wrong,” you reach out to grab his mask and rip it off his face. “My heart is still beating but I died years ago. I’ve only been waiting for you to end me.”
“дорогая (darling),“ he growls before lunging forward to wrap his metal hand around your throat. Your eyes drop to his arm, focusing on the new color as he squeezes your windpipe. You close your eyes and embrace the darkness. “Goodnight…”
