Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I tossed my other pair of clothes into the small overnight bag and prepared to saunter out of the gym like I belonged there. I returned the bottle of shampoo I had borrowed from the lost and found, placed the gym hairdryer back in its cradle, and left the locker room, bag in hand.

I was wearing the only other outfit I owned: a short, tight dress with plunging neckline that I would never have chosen for myself if I didn’t need it. At the very least it had long sleeves.

The night air was cool for April and had me shivering. Tomorrow I would need to find a jacket, but for now I knew how to find somewhere to stay for the night.

My stomach growled as I passed several food carts who were closing up to head home. It had to be after nine by now. The perfect time to find my client.

I found a decent spot and leaned up against a store wall, my bag behind my feet with the straps wrapped around my ankle to keep it safe. A few couples walked by, a few of them eyeing me judgmentally.

It took almost half an hour before a mark came along. He was big, wearing a leather jacket and gloves, and absolutely looked like he would want a bit more girl - someone he could pound into it without fear she would break.

“Hey, handsome.” I swallowed down the disgust I felt at the memories. “You look lonely.”

The man barely glanced at me. “I’m good.”

“Aw come on.” I shoved myself off the wall and grabbed my bag, jogging a little to catch up to him. “I know you could use some company. I don’t charge a lot. A hundred and a couch to crash on for the night.” 

That made him halt and truly look at me for the first time. His startling blue eyes and glare had me reconsidering my choice.

“You don’t even know me. Why would you go home with me? What if I were a murderer?”

I frowned at him and wrapped my arms around myself as the wind picked up. “Statistically my chances are better with a random guy than if I stayed in an alleyway for the night.” 

His expression seemed to grow even darker. “I think there’s a shelter near here…?” He turned his head to look around.

I snorted. “Oh, I know. They’re even worse. The women who run those things are cruel and they’ll sooner take all your shit than actually do anything to help. Look, I won’t even charge if you just give me a quick bite to eat and lemme sleep on the couch afterwards. I’ll make it so worth it for you. Anything you wanna do.” There were several things offhand that I could think of that I wouldn’t be thrilled to do, but what other choice did I have?

The man bristled. “Are you— are you offering me…sex for a place to sleep?”

“Did I not make that obvious?” Maybe I had chosen a decent one. Too naive to know what I was doing? In New York? Maybe he was a tourist.

He studied me for a minute, taking in my appearance and bag of possessions. “Come on.” He nodded his head in the direction he had been walking. “It’s only a couple more blocks.”

I gave him a seductive smile. “Lead the way, daddy.”

He hesitated mid step. “Please don’t call me that.”

“Understood. You can fill me in on the nitty gritty when we’re at your place.” Maybe he was more submissive? Looks could be deceiving. Or maybe he was just vanilla. That would be a nice change of pace for me. 

The remainder of the walk was silent. He muttered, “this is me” when we arrived at a nondescript apartment building. I followed him through a dark lobby, into an elevator, and up to the fourth floor. 

His apartment was clean but small and relatively undecorated save for basic furniture and a couple of paintings on the wall. 

“Only been here a while?” I dropped my bag by the front door.

“Uh, sort of. I travel a lot.” He peered into his fridge as he spoke. “I have a frozen pizza?”

“Works for me. This is a nice painting.” I gestured to an oil painting of the New York skyline.

“Oh, thanks. Sam got it for me.”

“Sam a friend of yours?”

“Uh, something like that. I guess.”

Getting this one to talk was like pulling teeth. Maybe I should go with the direct approach. “So tell me what you’re into. You want to be in control? Or do you prefer it if I take control? Any particular kinks?” Inwardly I sighed, exhausted but knowing I had little other choice. 

He paused, the oven door still wide open from where he had placed the pizza on the middle rack. “I don’t want to have sex with you.”

I narrowed my eyes for a second. “Do you have some other kink you want to act out? I’ve never done any of what some of the other girls had talked about, but… I guess I could try…”

His face was now a deep red. “I, er, don’t wanna do any of that.”

“Well then why did you bring me here?” I was suddenly fearful. “Oh shit, are you a murderer? I was just kidding…”

“I’m not a…” He trailed off.

“The silence isn’t really reassuring.” I took a couple steps backward toward the door, my eyes darting around to see if I could improvise a weapon.

“No that’s not…You don’t recognize me?” His demeanor had shifted from intimidating to flustered.

“Should I?” There was little furniture between me and the door. Just a floor lamp. Maybe I could swing it at him?

“Doll, I’m not gonna hurt you. My name is Bucky Barnes. I used to… well, I just…” He cut himself off with a huff, seemingly flustered that he didn’t know what to say.

I paused. How did I know that name? I hadn’t watched much, if any, TV in the last year, but there was something recognizable about him now that I had a name too.

“Oh.” I glanced at his gloves and it clicked. “Are you— you’re Steve Roger’s best friend? The Winter Soldier?”

He nodded silently, the guilt clear on his face.

“Oh.” I abandoned my escape plan and crossed the small space to the tiny kitchen. “I-I’m really sorry. I know — well, I’m not really certain what the social protocol is to express that I’m sorry you were used by Hydra, but I am sorry you had to go through all that.”

“You aren’t scared of me?” His eyebrows dipped together in confusion.

“Are you still secretly under Hydra’s control?”

His expression turned to anger. “No.”

“Do you have the desire to murder people when not in Hydra’s control?”

“No.” He pushed the oven door closed as if finally remembering it was wide open.

“Then I have no reason to be scared of you. You are by far not the most terrifying people I’ve been around.” I pulled myself onto one of two stools perched next to the kitchen counter. 

The ex-Winter Soldier was silent again, studying me. “What’s your name?”

I hesitated debating on giving him a fake name. On the one hand, he was high profile and not necessarily a great person to be around right now. But on the other, he was friends with the new Captain America… oh. Sam. His sort of friend. Sam Wilson had given him that painting. 

After a moment of contemplation, I opted to give him my actual name. 

He nodded. “Nice to meet you. Is it okay if I ask why you’re propositioning random men for a place to stay?”

“It’s harder to find women who will hire sex workers?” I joked.

There was a brief flash of confusion on his face before it changed to annoyance. “That’s not what I was asking.”

I looked down at the kitchen counter, focusing in on a chip in one of the tiles and considering how much I should tell him. “I was in a shelter, but a woman stole the little bit of money I had and when I complained about it, they kicked me out.” 

“Why were you in a shelter?” 

I tore my eyes from the chipped counter tile to find Bucky leaning against the opposite counter, arms crossed with an expression I couldn’t read.

“Just… didn’t have anywhere else to go.” I pulled my arms around me in a tight hug. As much as I suspected I could trust Bucky, he didn’t need the sordid details. 

“The bruises on your wrists. He the reason you didn’t have anywhere else to go?” Bucky’s eyes cut straight into me.

Without thinking, I had pulled both of my sleeves up a bit to mid-arm, the apartment much warmer than it had been outside. On each wrist were layered bruises in several stages of healing. I tugged the sleeves down hurriedly, but didn’t know how to answer him. 

“You can take the bed. I don’t use it.” Bucky set the timer on the oven and opened the fridge again. “Beer?”

“Uh, sure. Why don’t you use the bed? Where do you sleep?” I scanned the main room of the apartment. “The couch?”

“Sometimes the couch. Sometimes the floor.” He shrugged, opened a bottle of beer and passed it to me. “I’m usually up by 5 to run but I’m back by 6 to shower after. I don’t have much in the way of groceries, but you’re welcome to what I’ve got.”

“I mean, I can’t imagine I’ll stick around too long in the morning. Don’t you have work or something? I can leave when you leave.” I sipped at the beer, savoring the taste and already knowing I would miss being able to afford alcohol for a long while.

“No mission right now.” Bucky tossed back a swig of the beer.

“Oh. Okay, well, I’ll just head out when you leave for your run.”

“That’s pretty early, doll.” 

“Then when you get back?” 

“We’ll figure it out.” Bucky’s eyes drifted down to my clothes like he had forgotten. His cheeks turned pink as he looked away. “You wanna get changed?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” I hopped down from the stool and went for my bag before pausing. I was never allowed to change in private. But Bucky had said he didn’t want to have sex with me. Did that mean I shouldn’t change in front of him? “Where… uh…?” I held up the bag.

“Oh…bathroom is just through the bedroom on the right.” 

I made for the bathroom, feeling like I could breathe easily, even if just for the night.

*~*

Bucky’s bed was the most comfortable thing I had slept on in over a year. Well, the most comfortable thing without having someone else in the bed with me, anyway. The sheets even still smelled freshly washed. He must have been telling the truth when he said he didn’t sleep in it.

I was almost sad that the sheets smelled like fresh cotton detergent and not like Bucky himself. Whatever it was I smelled when I had passed close by him a couple of times had been utterly enticing.

Or it would have been had it not been for… everything that had gotten me here. 

I shifted in the soft sheets. It had been two weeks since I had left Chicago. I had to decide if I would be better off staying in New York where I could try to blend in, or leaving the country altogether. Whatever I chose, I needed to figure it out by the end of this week. 

Because the boss was scheduled to return from Madripoor by then. I knew the idiots who ran things while he was gone wouldn’t be able to find me.

But if anyone could, it would be Rumlow.

Chapter Text

Bucky was in the kitchen with coffee by the time I woke up the next morning. I had simply slept in my panties, so I put my jeans, bra, and tee shirt back on, brushed my hair, made his bed, and headed into the living room, overnight bag over my shoulder.

“Morning.” Bucky nodded at me from over a cup of coffee. He was leaning up against the counter closest to the coffee pot. “I got some breakfast for you from the diner on the corner.” 

Two unopened foam containers were stacked on the counter.

“You really didn’t have to do that.” The loud growling noises my stomach elicited just then made my face grow warm.

He shrugged. “There wasn’t much in the apartment.”

“Well, thanks. I really appreciate it.” I went to grab one of the boxes. “Which is yours?”

“Oh, I already ate. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a couple combo platters.” 

The thoughtfulness took the wind out of me for a second. “I… that’s… thank you. Seriously. That’s really sweet of you.” I slid into one of the stools at the counter across from Bucky. 

“Yeah. No problem.” He looked down into his coffee, a noticeable blush across his cheeks. He cleared his throat and looked back up, his eyes drifting to my bag. “You leaving?”

I had just popped a bite of bacon into my mouth. I chewed quickly while nodding. “I… um, I mean. I should get going. I don’t want to put you out further.”

“You aren’t putting me out.” Bucky’s gaze seemed to be taking me apart bit by bit. “Where are you headed from here?”

The remainder of the bacon slice suddenly felt impossible to swallow. “I’m going to upstate New York. Have some family there.”

“Oh? Whereabouts?”

My mind reached for my abysmal geography knowledge. “Buffalo.”

“And you’ll be safe there?” His eyes flickered back to my wrists, which were uncovered now, the lack of long sleeves the only annoyance about the clothes. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I ate a bite of the waffle he’d purchased. 

Bucky set his mug down and leveled me with a stare. “Who are you runnin from, doll?” 

“I’m not—“

I cut myself off as he raised both eyebrows and his eyes purposefully slid to my arms.

I swallowed my words and restarted. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. I’ll be okay.” I shoved more waffle into my mouth in hopes it would deter him from asking more questions.

“Those bruises say otherwise. Just stay another couple of days, get yourself healed up, and then head up.” He sipped at his coffee again.

I swallowed down the waffle, struggling to keep it from sticking in my throat. “I can’t wait a couple days. I need to leave now. My aunt is expecting me. She’ll worry if I don’t show soon and I don’t have a cell phone or any other way to reach her.” 

“You could borrow mine.” He lifted a phone that appeared to be brand new.

My mind started spinning with different scenarios, my food long forgotten in front of me. “She’s at work at the moment so her phone is off. She’s supposed to pick me up at the bus station tonight straight from work.” 

“Okay, well I can always drop you off at the bus station. Do you know what time the bus leaves? I think we can look it up on my phone. Sam said there’s a … browser?” Bucky started to click random things on his phone. “Oh but you said your money was stolen. Did your aunt buy you a ticket?”

Shit. If I said yes, he would insist on taking me to the station and with my luck would wait for the bus to leave. If I said no, why did I have the feeling he would buy me a ticket?

His voice interrupted my thoughts, the tone more subdued. “There’s no aunt, is there?” 

I shook my head in disagreement, starting to reassure him the fictional aunt absolutely existed, but he cocked his head a bit, eyebrows raised in a way that suggested pity.

I deflated, my eyes falling away from his, the fork I had still been clutching going limp against the remainder of my food. “No, there’s no aunt.” 

“Where are you actually planning on going?” Bucky was suddenly standing next to me, his voice quiet.

I shrugged. “Either someplace in Canada or to disappear into the city somewhere.” 

“Doll, stay here. At least until you have a real plan and have some money.” He had crossed his arms and leaned next to me with his back against the counter, his face tilted to look at mine.

“Bucky, you don’t understand. I really absolutely have to go. You- you’ve been through so much already. You don’t deserve to deal with my shit too.” Tears pooled in my eyes at the thought of Rumlow and his goons coming after him. 

“Ain’t nothin’ new. Any prick that’s been beatin you up is no match for me.” He lifted his metal arm briefly with a sarcastic smirk.

“That’s… it’s not just...” I huffed a sigh. “I’m not running from some loser boyfriend. Just please trust me. Please. I don’t know how big this is, but you would get caught up in it and I don’t want to have brought that to your doorstep. I know Rumlow knows some really shady people and—“

Bucky stood straight up, interrupting me. “Who did you say?”

I paused, my words half formed on my lips. “Uh, Rumlow. He was… well, is, in charge.”

“Brock Rumlow?” His voice became a growl, and his eyes grew dark.

“Y-yeah.” I crossed my arms over my chest, hugging myself at the memories that his name conjured.

“Holy—“ Bucky almost launched himself away from the counter, grabbing his phone. “I knew he was alive. I fucking told Sam!” He made to dial his phone but stopped. “Wait, what is he in charge of?”

I blinked tears back, a few spilling down my cheeks as I shook my head, my voice unable to form coherent words. I didn’t want to think about what I’d fled. The cruelty. The constant fear and pain.

Bucky’s expression was unreadable, but it was clear he understood. “We can talk about it in a little while, okay? Try to eat some more. I’m gonna make a phone call in the meantime.” 

I sat staring at the food that had looked so good only moments before. How did Bucky know Rumlow? Bucky had disappeared into the bedroom to make his call in private. 

A thought came to me. My bag sat on the floor a few feet away. The door was only a bit further. 

I grabbed the two containers of food, slid off the stool, and flung my bag over my shoulder.  

“You really sure you wanna do that?” Bucky’s voice startled me into almost dropping the food. 

I turned to where he stood in the doorway, tucking his phone into his back pocket.

“I didn’t mean to make this your problem.” My voice was regretful, my eyes downcast. “You don’t deserve it.”

“You don’t deserve whatever it is Rumlow wants with you either.” Bucky was walking towards you, his voice growing closer. By the time he was within arm’s reach, you looked up into his face. 

“You don’t even know what it is. How can you say that? Maybe I do deserve it.” Mike’s voice echoed in my head. You’re such a little slut; I bet you’ll love all this. You’ll get used to it. 

“No one deserves anything that man is involved with,” Bucky growled, his body visibly tensing. 

I weighed my options. I could leave — I doubted when it came down to it that Bucky would restrain me — or I could stay until I had a better way to establish my safety and maybe earn some money. I knew Bucky could ultimately take care of himself even if I didn’t want him to get hurt because of me. But from the sounds of it, he already knew Rumlow.

A thought struck me suddenly. What if he knew Rumlow because he was secretly working for him? What if the person he just called wasn’t Sam but rather Rumlow to tell him one of his girls had run away and was here? 

But then I took in Bucky’s stance. Anger was practically vibrating off his body. No, he wasn’t friendly with him.

“And you promise you don’t normally sleep in that bed?” I bit at my bottom lip, gnawing gently on the skin. 

“I tried once when I first bought it. Haven’t slept in it since,” he said. 

“Okay. But I’m gonna earn my keep. I’ll cook and clean for you while I look for work. And after I get a job and save up some money, I’m leaving.”

He nodded, though I wasn’t certain if it was simply an acknowledgment that he’d heard me or that he agreed.

I shuffled away from the door and back into the small kitchen, setting the food containers back on the counter. Bucky slid into one of the two stools.

“I know that you don’t want to discuss why you were with Rumlow, but any information you could give me would be helpful.”  

I sighed and considered what I knew. 

“He mostly travels between Atlantic City and the Hamptons, but right now he’s in Madripoor. He should be back within the week.” I held the hem of my shirt between my thumb and index finger and rubbed the worn cotton, staring only at the action and avoiding Bucky’s gaze. 

“What was he doing in Madripoor?”

I shrugged, still grounding myself with my shirt. “I wasn’t even supposed to know he was on a trip. I overheard it while—“ No, pause. Bucky didn't need to know that part. “He was talking to some of the guys who work for him.”

If Bucky noticed my hesitation, he didn’t comment on it. “Did he ever talk about Hydra?”

Rumlow was typically careful about what he discussed in front of us. It was a miracle I’d heard that he would be away. But Mike, however, wanted to be powerful, and I was the only person over which he held power. 

“He didn’t, but… some others did. Nothing specific. Just that they were funneling money to them. It sounded like what Rumlow was doing was aimed at just earning Hydra money.” I glanced up at Bucky who seemed to be considering something. 

“Probably a demotion,” he muttered. “You said Atlantic City and the Hamptons?”

I nodded.

“I take it you were in one of those locations as well then?” 

Another nod. “The Hamptons. Some of the other girls were taken between the two, and I think some stayed in Atlantic City, but…” I hesitated. “They wouldn’t take me because I tried to get away so much early on. I almost made it the last time. Got a solid couple miles before they tracked me.” 

“The other girls?” One eyebrow soared up into his hairline.

I didn’t respond. 

“Doll, if Rumlow wants you back for the reason that’s coming to mind, we need to get you medical attention.” His voice was insistent, somber.

“I saw doctors plenty. Once a week.” I wrapped my arms around my middle and stared down at the floor. “I’m healthy.”

I didn’t need to look back up to know he was staring at me. 

“Okay.” He paused and I heard the telltale signs of a phone buzzing. “Try to actually eat now.”

By the time I looked back up, I only caught a glimpse of him accepting the phone call before vanishing into the bedroom.

*~*

Bucky

“Sorry I missed you earlier. Shit signal. What’s up?” Sam’s voice was a bit muffled, but Bucky understood him fine. “You said on the phone you’d picked up some girl? Way to go, Buck.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Not like that. She’s gotten away from some organization Brock Rumlow was running. It’s some side hustle for Hydra.”

“Rumlow’s alive? Fuck. Are you sure she’s not working for him? How did you meet her?”

“She’s definitely not working for him. She’s terrified of him. Sam, I think Rumlow’s… prostituting women out. I met her walking home last night. She … offered me sex for a place to sleep.” Bucky shoved a hand through his hair and let out a ragged breath. He had been thinking about their conversation last night. The way she had so nonchalantly assumed he would take advantage of her, how she had been resigned to doing whatever he wanted of her. 

“Fucker. Okay I’ll head your way. I got a couple quick things to do but I should be there by tonight.” 

Bucky clicked the red button on the phone and peered through the door to where his new guest was picking at the food he had gotten her. What he hadn’t told Sam was that if Rumlow had even an inkling that she knew he was connected to Hydra, then Rumlow wouldn’t stop hunting her. 

And Rumlow had a way of knowing things.

Chapter Text

I couldn’t stomach more than a few bites of the food. While I had lost a little bit of weight in the year or so I had been with Rumlow, at a size 14, I still was easily heavier than all the other girls. Some of the wealthier clientele had specific tastes, which meant I was often the Delicacy. I was given more food than the others to maintain my deeper curves. I received nicer clothes to wear. I didn’t “work” as often as many of the others did. 

Of course, my curves hadn’t been the only reason I’d been chosen. 

Many of my nights were spent wondering what might have happened if I hadn’t trusted Mike. If I hadn’t gone on that date with him. If I hadn’t even signed up for that stupid dating app. 

I would probably have nailed that interview for the librarian position. I would have maybe found someone nice, someone who didn’t sell me out to Hydra. 

I wouldn’t be hiding in the Winter Soldier’s apartment. I wouldn’t have absolutely no money to my name. I wouldn’t contemplate if it would be all that bad if I simply…gave up. 

Bucky had wrapped up his phone call and returned to the kitchen. 

“I, uh, I’m not super hungry right now. I’ll put the rest in the fridge for later. Thank you. Really.” I gathered up both boxes still mostly packed with food, and found a spot for them in the fridge. Though truthfully that hadn’t been difficult — there was little else on the shelves. “If you have some money, I can run to the store and pick up some food. Just tell me what foods you like or if you have any allergies or anything.” 

“You can’t leave the apartment.”

My eyes widened at Bucky’s harshness. He must have realized how he sounded as he cleared his throat and spoke again, this time with a softer voice.

“It’s not safe. I can go get you whatever you need. Just make a list.” He reached into a drawer, pulled out a notepad and pen, and handed them to me.

“Okay. I shouldn’t take very long.” I rushed to think of some meals that I could make. “Oh, wait, I didn’t ask. I’m so sorry. Do you prefer richer foods or more comfort meals or something really healthy? Are you on a special diet or anything? Or should I only use less expensive ingredients? I’m sorry for asking so many questions.” I almost winced at my rambling. Mike hated it when I rambled. 

“Whatever you want to make is fine with me. I usually live off those frozen premade things.” He shrugged and poured himself another cup of coffee from the carafe. 

I merely nodded and started to jot down a few items before I realized I needed one other thing he couldn’t get from the store.

“Um, Bucky? Do you have a washing machine I could maybe use? I just… really need to wash my clothes.” 

“There’s one in the basement. If you bring what you need cleaned, I’ll start it before I leave.”

I glanced down at my single casual outfit. “I’ll be right back.” 

I hurried to the bedroom so as not to delay him further, and I tore off my outfit, cringing a bit that he would have to wash my panties, and then I slid on my other pair of panties and the dress I had worn last night in my attempt to pick him up. I nearly sprinted into the kitchen, clothes in hand.

Bucky was mid-sip when he saw me, his movements slowing as he swallowed the coffee. “Are these your only clothes?” He scowled at the small pile in my hands.

I flushed and averted my eyes from meeting his. “Yes, sir.”

“You don’t need to call me sir.” His voice sounded weary. Before I could respond, his tone shifted to something more business-like. “I can pick you up some clothes while I’m out. Size and preferences?”

The heat in my cheeks had just subsided before rising again at the thought of Bucky knowing my size. How I was embarrassed after the last year of my life I had no idea… 

“Couldn’t I just… come with you?” My voice was barely loud enough for even me to hear it.

“Doll, if Rumlow is after you, you need to stay low profile.” 

I hated that I knew he was right. “Okay. Tee shirts in like 2X. Leggings or shorts in XL. Underwear, same. Only bikini style, please.” 

“Write that down as well.” Bucky’s voice was clipped as he turned and walked to the sink where he washed his coffee cup.

I finished writing out a list of inexpensive ingredients I could use for three nights of dinners along with some other things for breakfasts and lunches and then I wrote my sizes on the back. Bucky grabbed the list, and stalked towards the door. 

“Don’t let anyone in.”

The door clicked shut behind him. 

While Bucky was out, I flipped on the small flat screen and found Netflix already loaded up on the Roku that sat sadly on the floor. Most of the time Bucky was gone was passed by senseless scrolling, my body and brain too wired to take any of it in. 

Bucky was spending quite a bit of money on me. Would he want to be repaid? I clicked through the entire row of Comedy options, and moved on to Drama. Not only was he spending money on me, he was also giving up his time to run these errands for me because I couldn’t. 

The longer I thought about it, the more convinced I became that he would expect at least something. If the last few years of my life had taught me anything, it was that men always expected reciprocity. There wasn’t much to clean in the sparse apartment and I had already promised to cook until I could pay him rent. But there was nothing else I could do to pay for what he was purchasing for me. Not without making money first anyway.

He’d said he didn’t want sex with me, but that was last night when we’d just gotten back. Plus he was clearly displeased by the dress I had on. It was not one that flattered me — highlighting the fat on my stomach and hips. The look on his face had been one of disgust, not that I could blame him. 

Perhaps there was still something I could do to repay him, something where he didn’t have to look at my body.

*~*

By the time Bucky returned, his arms laden with bags, I had decided what to do. I helped him put away all the groceries, tore tags from clothes and then stacked them into my bag. He was standing in the kitchen, a sandwich in front of him on the counter, by the time I had finished. I’d changed into a pair of black shorts and the tightest shirt he had purchased, one which was a L but had been hung incorrectly on an XXL hanger. My bra I left abandoned in the bedroom so my nipples showed clearly through the thin material. 

I stopped just in front of Bucky. 

“I wanted to say thank you for the clothes and for buying all of the food.” 

“Oh, sure, doll, it was no—“ 

His words halted as I fell to my knees and started undoing his belt buckle. I had only gotten the belt through the leather loop when he grasped both of my wrists with a gentleness I had never known.

Bucky took a deep step backwards. “Wha-what are you doing?” 

I sucked in a breath. How could I have so badly messed this up? “I’m so sorry.” 

Bucky breathed out my name in a shaky sigh. “Why are you trying to…um…” He trailed off and gestured to his partially undone belt.

“I…didn’t know how else to repay you. I don’t… I don’t have anything else to give you.” My voice grew quieter with each word. “I’m sorry. I understand if I don’t please you.”

He redid the belt loop and took a cautious step back toward me. “It’s not — I’m not displeased by—-.” He let out a shaky breath. “You don’t need to repay me. Not for anything. And certainly not… that way. I know what it’s like to be an unwilling participant in something that will be forever imprinted in your mind.”

I absorbed his words as he continued, stepping a little closer to me.

“Look, I’m not saying I have all this shit figured out. I’m still fucked up and… I’m not really a great guy. But trust me when I say that I’m not going to do to you any of the shit that Rumlow and his goons pulled and anyone who claims to be trying to help you is not going to take advantage of you.” Bucky was within arms’ reach, and I found myself fighting the urge to make myself small.

He said my name again, almost a whisper this time. “I know that everything is still really fresh, but I need to know what Rumlow is doing. Sam is coming tonight. We can start figuring out how to take him down.” 

There were so many possibilities running through my head. Bucky could kill Rumlow and all of the others would be free. Rumlow could call in Hydra and they could take Bucky back before taking me back with them. Bucky could fail and Rumlow could simply catch me — and then I would always remember. I would recall every day how close I had been to freedom.

But if I didn’t help, all the others would be stuck there. And new people would be brought in…

I inhaled a deep, thorough breath in attempts to settle my racing heart. Once more, I slid up into the stool at the kitchen counter and began explaining, my voice subdued. “I’m guessing you’ve already got your suspicions. Rumlow has at least a couple dozen women and a few men that he trafficks. Sometimes just for labor but more often than not for sex. The clients come from all kinds of backgrounds - if you can pay, you can play - though a lot of them are definitely in a tax bracket I was not likely to ever see. Every year, he hosts an elaborate summer party where extremely wealthy clients can bid on the women.” I had to pause and take a shuddering breath. “I didn’t do it last year — it seemed like they chose women that they had complained weren’t bringing in enough money in a regular week or those who needed punishing. From what some of the others told me though, the winners of the auctions could do anything they wanted with their prize except kill them. Last year, a couple of girls didn’t come back after, and… well, I think if they’re wealthy enough, Rumlow looks the other way.” 

“How did they find clients?” Bucky was in what I was beginning to see as his pose: leaning up against a counter, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m not really sure. Word of mouth maybe?”

“And the women and men… they’re kidnapped at random?”

I shifted on the stool though my lack of comfort had little to do with the seat. “No, a lot of them are brought in by someone they know. Someone close to them. Depending on who it is, a few don’t even live in the houses Rumlow has set aside. They’re just brought in when needed.” 

Bucky was silent for a moment; I suspected he was debating on asking me about which was true for me. 

He must have decided against it. “The party. When does that happen?” 

“End of summer, like August. They were already planning it before I… well, ran.” I watched Bucky, carefully trying to determine what he was thinking, but he was so stoic. 

“How did you end up there?” His gaze had softened the faintest bit but underneath it I saw the glimpses of the anger, sparks of fire alighting his eyes.

“I didn’t think we were talking about me,” I countered. 

He shrugged, but didn’t respond. 

I thought briefly of telling him everything, but I wasn’t his problem. He didn’t care and I wasn’t going to pretend that he did. 

“The party is obviously invitation-only with strict security. I would guess that many of them are either Hydra themselves or are friends with Hydra agents who can vouch for them. I’m assuming you’re planning on someone trying to infiltrate? You’ll need an agent who can convince them they are friends to Hydra.” I pursed my lips. “And then the agent on your side is going to need to be prepared for what they’ll witness before they can bring others in to take them down.”

“Done a lot of field work?” His lips twitched a little, almost like he wanted to smirk.

“Only if you count watching movies.” 

He opened his mouth to speak but paused, turning to the door. A few moments later, there was a knock. Turning back to me, he held his finger to his lips and then seemingly glided to the door, his steps entirely silent before he peered out the peephole. His tense demeanor shifted, his body relaxing minutely as he moved to swing open the door.

In walked Captain America.

“Heya, Buck—“

“Don’t call me that.”

“—Got done early so I figured I’d come on by.” The new Captain sauntered in and straight towards me. “Hey there. You Bucky’s new guest? Pleased to meet you. I’m Sam.” 

Sam held out a hand to me while Bucky scowled behind him. 

“Hi.” I gave Sam what I hoped looked like a smile and not an awkward grimace as I introduced myself.

Bucky turned to me. “I’ll fill him in. Why don’t you get a hot bath and relax? If there’s anything else we need, I’ll let you know.”

My eyes shifted between the two before I nodded and excused myself towards the small bathroom. The hot water pooled quickly in the wide tub, steaming the bathroom up as I stripped down. I dipped my foot in, the warmth immediately creeping up into my core and making me shiver. I sank into the clear depths and reveled in the coziness, only moving to turn the water off. 

Bucky had a small bath pillow propped on the back of the tub, so I tipped my head back and closed my eyes to focus on the feel of hot water. 

“The fuck did you do?” Mike slapped me hard across the face, sending me stumbling into a bookshelf. “You honestly think you can run away from me? This is your life now, you little whore. You serve me, which means you serve anyone else I tell you to.”

I leaned against the bookshelf, hand to my cheek to suppress the throb. 

“This time, I’m not the one who’s gonna punish you.” Mike clicked his tongue in mock pity.

My heart pounded as the door to the bedroom swung open and in walked Rumlow, a sadistic smile on his face. He was carrying a metal rod and something else I couldn’t quite see, its entirety wrapped in his hand.

Rumlow stood in front of me as he was flanked by Mike and one of his other lackeys. 

“Strip her and then restrain her.”

I yelped as the two worked together to tear my clothes off me until I stood naked in the cold room, shivering and desperate to cover myself. But each of the men wrenched my arms behind me and held so that I was pinned between them. 

Rumlow revealed his other hand: a lighter. He flicked it on and held it under the end of the metal rod.

My eyes widened as I realized what he intended to do. 

I begged for reprieve, for mercy, until the words falling from my lips were almost nonsensical, please and no and I’m sorry, over and over. I bargained with the devil for my soul. 

But my pleas fell on cruel ears.

I woke with a panicked scream, flailing and unable to piece together where I was and why moving was so difficult. I managed to bring myself to my knees, the water below me now tepid.

The door broke from its hinges then as Bucky plowed through, his eyes wildly scanning for a threat. 

My bottom half hidden by the tub, I threw my arms over my breasts almost uselessly, as their size meant I succeeded in only shielding my nipples from his gaze.

As soon as he took in the scene — the water in the tub, me naked, fruitlessly covering myself — he covered his eyes and spun around. 

“I am so sorry! I just heard you scream and— I’ll just… I’ll fix the door later. There are towels in that closet.” He pointed, still holding a hand over his eyes, to the closet next to him. 

He was gone almost as quickly as he had burst in.

But despite his efforts to maintain my dignity, I knew he had seen. I knew he would look at me and forever remember that on my lower stomach, branded for the world, were the initials: B.R.

Chapter Text

Bucky and Sam were in the kitchen, Sam on a stool and Bucky in his trademark leaning position, both talking in low tones to avoid being heard.

Bucky looked up first and the talking dissipated as Sam twisted in his chair to meet my gaze.

“I’m sorry about your bathroom door.” I held my hands behind my back out of habit, my face staring down at the floor. It was Rumlow’s preferred stance before punishments. It took me a moment to realize I was doing it and after, I forced myself out of the position, hands shoved into my pockets, face up to look at Bucky.

He raised an eyebrow and gave me a ghost of a smile; I sensed he understood what had just taken place. 

“It’s not a big deal. Not the first door I’ve busted through. Probably not the last.” Bucky motioned to a bag I had overlooked. “Ordered you some dinner. Hope you like burgers. I ordered them plain but there’s ketchup, mustard, and mayo in the fridge and I had them put some tomato, lettuce, and onion in a box.”

“Thank you, it smells great.” I took my time removing the take out box from the bag, fixing my burger just so. 

“So, what did you do before… well, before Rumlow?” Sam asked, his attempts at banal conversation filling me with mixed feelings of wistfulness and anger.

“I was an Assistant Librarian. My position had been cut a month before though. Budget cuts. I had an interview scheduled at a nearby library - one for Head Children’s Librarian.” I pretended to inspect my burger. “It was my dream job.”

Sam plowed on. “And was that around here?” 

New York. The beginning of the end for me. That tiny apartment on the outskirts of Queens had felt like I had been gifted my very own fairy godmother. It hadn’t been the greatest neighborhood, but my immediate neighbors were kind. I had missed them once Mike had moved me into his apartment. 

I cleared my throat. “Yeah, in Queens. I’m from Virginia originally though. Came up here to get into publishing, but decided to go back for my MLS and become a librarian.” 

“You know, Bucky actually loves to read.”

My eyes flickered up towards Bucky who looked a few seconds away from tackling Sam. 

“You do?” I peered around his apartment. 

“Uh, yeah. I only have a few books in that cupboard over there.” He was rubbing the back of his neck as he pointed to a cabinet I hadn’t paid much attention to. “I don’t buy a lot of books these days. Mostly go to the library or use that… e… book thing?” 

“A Kindle or e-reader?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Easier to take with me on missions.”

“That makes sense.” A smile tugged at my lips. “I’ve always preferred physical copies. There’s just something about the feel of the pages. Oh, and the smell of old books. Did you know that the smell is from the chemicals in the paper breaking down? The lignin that breaks down in paper is related to vanilla.” 

Bucky smiled in return. “I wish I could take actual books on missions. I love that smell.”

Sam, meanwhile, was looking between the two of us, an odd smirk on his face. 

Bucky must have seen it too because his smile dropped into a deep frown aimed at his friend.

Sam’s smile only widened.

“So,” Sam started, addressing me as I took a first bite of my lukewarm burger. “We were just discussing that you would be safest here with Bucky until we can bring Rumlow and his crew in.”

“Sam,” Bucky hissed. 

“While local police are an option, we don’t feel they are equipped to handle Rumlow as a threat.”

Bucky was still whispering Sam’s name angrily.

I swallowed the small bite of my food. “Please don’t tell the local police. Some officers used to… well, a few were frequent visitors of the girls. And… of me.” I coughed on a stray piece of burger that hadn’t completely gone down. I always dreaded seeing a couple of the officers who preferred me. The things they liked to do occasionally revisited me in my dreams. 

Bucky and Sam both froze. Bucky’s anger towards Sam had shifted to something unrecognizable; Sam’s expression flashed momentarily to disgust before he schooled himself to appear calm.

“You’ll stay here,” Bucky said. “No jobs or anything though. At least nothing that takes you out of the apartment.”

“So I’m just gonna be locked up here indefinitely?” I let out a shaky breath. 

“Just until Rumlow and the rest are in custody,” Sam assured me.

I laughed bitterly. “You’re never going to get him in custody. He used to brag about having gotten away the first time, everyone thinking he was dead. There is no catching him. There is no being free of him! I’m just going to be a prisoner in some shape or form the rest of my life!” My voice crescendoed briefly, then fell flat, to a whispered realization. “I’m never going to be free.”

Bucky had moved across the room at some point and now stood in front of me. “I promise you, I will make sure he is taken care of. You’ll have your freedom.”

He looked so sincere. So sure. I wanted more than anything to believe him. I knew he was strong and fast and powerful. 

But this was Rumlow.

“Forgive me if I have more faith in human cruelty and evil than I have in promises from near-strangers.” I met his eyes with mine briefly before turning to hide the tears that threatened to spill. 

Sam’s phone rang piercingly through the tension. “Oh, I have to… excuse me.” He answered the phone and hurried into the bedroom for privacy.

Bucky and I remained standing still.

When he spoke again, it was quiet, whether to avoid being overheard or whether to avoid interrupting Sam, I wasn’t sure. “I saw the…branding. And the scars.”

“I know.” I tried to sniffle casually like it wasn’t obvious that I was crying. I hadn’t even considered that his glimpse of my body would have been enough to see not only the brand but also the myriad of scars sprinkled over my skin like sadistic tattoos. 

“BR?” His voice held a question though it was obvious he already knew, the expression on his face full of pity.

“Brock Rumlow.” I still avoided his gaze, looking anywhere but at him. For now, I settled on studying the color of his kitchen cabinets. “It was the second time I was caught running away.” My voice barely carried over the sound of Sam laughing in the next room. “He wanted me to remember who owned me.”

Bucky let out a noise not unlike a growl. But when he responded, his voice held nothing but compassion.

“I understand why you don’t trust me. After Hydra, I didn’t trust anyone, and still don’t, actually. Not as much as I should. I’m just asking that you give me a chance.” 

Despite the free flow of tears, I pivoted just enough to look up into his face. 

“I can’t go back there. I won’t…” My voice cracked.  “I won’t survive if he catches me again.” Whether that would be because I would take my own life or because Rumlow would end it for me, I wasn’t sure. But I knew it was the truth. 

Bucky opened his mouth to answer, but snapped it shut as Sam sauntered back into the room.

“Alright, kids, I have business to attend to. In the meantime, I’ll have Torres do some recon on the Hamptons and Atlantic City. Could give us a solid idea of where they frequent and where they keep their… um, employees.” 

Something came to mind just then.

“The summer party is always at a casino, but I think it’s maybe underground? There are no windows, but I could always hear slot machines somewhere, kinda muffled sounding.”

It took me aback for a moment as Bucky smiled widely at me at this sudden recollection. “That’s perfect, doll. That’ll be a lot of help.”

“Great, I’ll let Torres know. Buck, I’ll update you once I have something.” 

Bucky merely waved in acknowledgement as Sam disappeared into the building hallway. 

“Would you like me to reheat your dinner?” 

My apparent roommate and protector had lifted my plate and was gesturing to the microwave. 

“These microwave things are pretty great.” There was a twinge of a smirk on his face.

I let out a halfhearted chuckle and settled back on the kitchen stool, elbows on the counter, chin resting in my hands.

We sat in silence while I ate my reheated burger, Bucky studying something on his phone.

After several minutes, he cleared his throat. “I, uh, found the website for the library I go to. If you want, you could look up some books you’d like to read and I can check them out for you on my card.”

A tiny piece of me lit up like a lantern casting light through the labyrinth of a coal mine. 

“Thank you. That would be really nice.”

I accepted his phone and began typing in the names of my favorite authors to see if they had published any new books. It had been so long since I was allowed anything beyond what Mike had already owned, the best of which were books his mom had given him before she died.

For the first time in over a year, I felt a glimmer of excitement.

Chapter Text

I went to bed relatively early that night, the despair of my past and future colliding to take the wind out of me. I lay in Bucky’s otherwise empty bed staring at the headlight beams that slid effortlessly across the opposite wall. So much had happened in the last couple of days; I’d barely had time to process it all. It had been a long while since I’d had any real hope and somehow that was more terrifying than the hell I’d been living in for the last year. 

Mike had seemed so perfect at first. He was funny and smart; he had been generous in bed; he had respected my boundaries both in and out of bed. It only started to shift after a few weeks. Just a couple things here and there. Nothing that was enough to send me running.

Until he introduced me to Rumlow. But by then, it was too late. There was no way to escape his apartment. He’d shown me pictures of my apartment, now empty. He had been kind enough to bring me a box of my things. I had never been so relieved to have left anything of real value back in storage in Virginia for the day I had a place big enough. 

I rolled over and closed my eyes, willing my brain to stop thinking about Mike. Instead, I thought of the first time I discovered his true intentions.

“You’re going to make us so much money.” Rumlow grinned at me from his seat on Mike’s couch.

My eyes wide, I looked to Mike. “Sweetie?”

“Yeah, I ain’t your sweetie. Not anymore. Rumlow offered me a cut I can’t refuse. You’re worth your weight in gold.” He smirked at my body. “Which is a fucking lot.”

Rumlow laughed loudly with him. “Those curves, those breasts, and best of all, those kinks. Men are gonna pay me so much money to fuck a pussy that will get wet when you slap it around.” 

My face grew hot. Mike had told him I was a sub? And they were going to… oh, god. 

“I… I need to use the restroom.” I stood and walked as casually as I could towards the bathroom at the front of the apartment. At the last second, I turned on my heel and made a break for the door.

Both men behind me laughed as I wrenched open the door only to come face to chest with a large man holding an equally large knife. I backed into the apartment, trailed by the knife-wielding man.

Rumlow had crossed the room and now stood immediately behind me, his voice loud in my ears. “Face it, whore. You belong to me now.” His arms wrapped around me, his hands settling on my breasts. He squeezed each breast, kneading them painfully. “We are gonna have so much fun.”

I sighed and turned to my other side yet again. How long would it take for me to forget the feeling of his hands on me? Of the dozens and dozens of hands who had touched me for their own pleasure? 

I flopped from my side onto my back and stared up at the stark ceiling, the textured plaster reminding me of the tissue paper flowers my friends and I used to make in elementary school. Had any of my high school and college friends wondered why I had disappeared from social media? Would it had made a difference if my parents had still been alive? If I’d had any siblings or close cousins?

I huffed in annoyance of my insomnia and rolled out of the bed. It was after midnight — would Bucky be up still? Probably not. Maybe I could sneak out and grab a book from that cabinet.

I eased the door open, prepared to tiptoe across the room, but Bucky was sitting on the couch, book in hand. His gaze left his book and settled on me.

“Sorry. Didn’t know you were still up.” I stepped backward to disappear into the bedroom.

“Don’t hide on my account.”

I considered my options. Join him and possibly struggle through awkward conversation or go flop back and forth in the bed while thinking through the worst year of my life. 

I stepped into the living room and went to explore the book cabinet. There wasn’t much in there, at least not compared with what I owned, or had owned anyway, depending upon whatever Mike had done with my other possessions.

The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, all of the Game of Thrones books, a couple of Star Wars books that had the name Parker written in sharpie across the top, a few nonfiction books about US and world history after 1940, and several other fiction books I recognized. I selected one that looked particularly up my alley — a collection of Native American mythology — and settled into the wingback chair that stood perpendicular to the couch. 

We sat in silence for a while, each absorbed in our books, but with each page I read, the more my eyes began to droop. 

After I snapped them back open for the fourth or fifth time, Bucky broke his silence. “Having trouble going to sleep or trying to avoid going to sleep?”

“Oh, I was having trouble falling asleep. I think it’s cuz it’s a new place. Last night I only slept because I was so exhausted.” 

“Looks like you wouldn’t have trouble sleeping now.”

I nibbled at my bottom lip. He was right, I would be able to fall asleep. Especially if I took the book with me and read in bed too.

But now faced with the idea of sleep? And of dreaming? 

“To sleep perchance to dream?” Bucky quoted.

“Ay, there’s the rub,” I finished. “Technically Hamlet’s going on about committing suicide rather than actually sleeping but… the sentiment is still there.” 

“Studied it in school.” Bucky nodded.

“Ha, so did I. Guess some things never change.” I debated on asking him what I wanted. 

“Go ahead.”

My eyebrows furrowed, so he continued on.

“I’m trained to read body language and yours is particularly obvious.” Bucky smirked a bit and a seemingly foreign feeling passed through me. 

I disregarded it to consider later, focused instead on the conversation. “Do the nightmares get better?”

He seemed to be mulling over something before responding. “I’m not sure I’m the right person to answer that. My mind was destroyed over and over for decades.”

I hummed in acknowledgement and shifted my gaze back to the book of myths but found I had forgotten everything I had read of the tale. With a sigh, I pressed the book shut and closed my eyes as if resetting my brain. With a deep breath, I opened them again to look at Bucky.

“May I ask what you’re reading?”

He paused for a second like he was not sure if he wanted to tell me, but ultimately he held up the book so the cover was facing me. Red creeped into his cheeks. “Little Women. My sister… it was her favorite book when we were kids. I lost a bet to her and promised her I would read it after, well, after the war…” He trailed off.

My heart skipped for a moment as I imagined a younger Bucky ruffling the hair of a girl who shared his features as he teased her about her book choices.

He didn’t finish his thought but I knew what it was.

But there was no ‘after the war’ for him.

“It’s one of my absolute favorites. Your sister has - um, had…?” I broke off for a second, suddenly feeling awkward. Would his sister still be alive?

Bucky took pity on me. “She passed a while back.”

“Oh, I - I’m sorry for your loss,” I stumbled over my words before hurrying to finish what I had been saying. “She had great taste.”

He chuckled. “She would’ve agreed with you. And I hate to admit it, but it’s actually pretty good so far.”

I smiled and craned my neck towards the book. “Where are you in the book?”

“Beth just recovered from her pneumonia.”

“Ah,” I said, attempting to avoid giving away spoilers.

Bucky’s eyebrow lifted upwards. “What does that mean?” 

I schooled my face into nonchalance. “Just a good part. Beth is awesome.”

He eyeballed me, and I knew he could tell I wasn’t being truthful. “Nothing better happen to her.”

“Just keep reading,” I insisted. “It’s all so so good.”

There was a brief narrowing of the eyes, and a noise that sounded a bit like an old man grunting in annoyance, before he seemed to accept my response. 

I muffled a giggle and rested my head against the back of the armchair, my eyes closing once again. 

I wasn’t entirely certain when it had happened, but I felt comfortable around Bucky. Perhaps I felt we were kindred spirits - both traumatized former captives. 

Without opening my eyes, I spoke, my voice low and shaky. “It was my boyfriend.”

I heard a page flutter and the light thump of a book being closed and set on a table, so I continued, eyes still pressed tight together.

“Mike. We hadn’t been together long. He worked for Rumlow. Rumlow found out about me, about my— well, let’s just say he found me to be marketable.” I huffed out a laugh. “Mike got a good deal, apparently. Thought I was worth more as a commodity than as a romantic partner. They kept me at his apartment until the first time I made a run for it. Then they took me to one of their houses where a lot of men with a lot of guns could make sure I couldn’t go anywhere.”

I breathed in deeply through my nose to steady myself, opening my eyes to see Bucky’s reactions.

He sat, anger radiating from him, his body tense. My eyes remained open, but I shifted my gaze away, pretending to study the cover of Little Women while I spoke.

“They spent the first several weeks breaking me or letting favored long-time clients pay to break me.” 

The four March sisters smiled at me from the worn book cover. I had once wondered how hard it must have been to live at a time when a woman was discounted so little that publishing a book or a story was near impossible, just as Jo experienced in the novel. Now I knew. I knew what it was like to be seen as nothing — seen as lesser than. I had been made into an object. 

I thought of the first time Rumlow had taken me. My arms tied above me, he had used a flogger on me far beyond what I would have consented to, and then fucked me from behind. I stopped trying to fight him halfway through.

My mind snapped back to the present as Bucky called my name quietly.

“Sorry. You don’t need to hear my sob story.” I hastily wiped a stray tear from the apple of my cheek, my gaze flicking away from the book and into my lap.

“You went through hell,” Bucky said, matter-of-factly. “That’s not a sob story.”

I had the urge to look up at him but shame held me back. “I shouldn’t have trusted Mike. Here and there I saw red flags, but I ignored them. Small ways he disrespected me or insulted me. Odd hours for business meetings.”

With my finger, I traced the pattern on the chair’s fabric to keep myself detached from the memories. 

I heard the super soldier start to reply but he was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. I glanced up to see him scowl at it before answering. 

“Sam? You may have left the country, but you realize it’s 12:30 in the morning here right?”

I took the opportunity to get up like I had to use the bathroom, the door having been rigged back up in a temporary fix. I closed it as best I could and curled up, face tucked into my knees, on the floor against the tub. 

It was really hitting me now — everything all at once. I may not have been under Rumlow’s fist anymore, but I wasn’t free. Even if Bucky and Sam killed Rumlow — for real this time — and even if all of his crew were imprisoned, I would never be free of these memories. 

The first time I was sold to a stranger. The first time I was shown off to clients. The first time I was forced to cum against my will.

The tears were rolling by then. Falling to the tiled floor after careening down my knees and legs. 

A sob escaped against my attempts to hold it back. 

A minute later there was a soft knock on the door, Bucky calling my name. 

I cleared my throat. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

There was silence on the other side, but I wasn’t certain if he was still there or not. His steps were always so quiet. 

I struggled my way up off the tile and washed my face, frowning at how red and blotchy I looked.

Exhaling, I awkwardly pulled the door open on the hinges Bucky had found in his toolbox and almost ran right into him.

“H-hi. Sorry,” I apologized.

He took a small step back though he was still quite close to me. “It will get better.” 

I let out a snort of derision. “Okay. Sure.”

“You, uh, should ask Sam about… resources? He’s good at that stuff.”

I had a sudden flash of anger. “Yeah I’m sure some therapy will fix me right up.” I pushed past him towards the bedroom, needing to be alone.

I’d fallen onto the bed face first in a fit of exhaustion when something light hit me in the back. I sat up, a baseball cap falling to the side next to me. 

“Put it on and get your shoes on.”

I frowned up at Bucky who was standing in the doorway. “It’s like 1 in the morning?”

“Yeah, but I know a guy. Come on.”

Chapter Text

We walked only a couple of blocks, passing by  some college age kids who were in various stages of drunkness. 

Bucky led me into an alley, which smelled vaguely of pot and cheap perfume.

“Brought me here to put me out of my misery, huh?” I quipped.

He ignored it, busy entering a code into a pad by a side door. I followed him in, the heavy door slamming shut behind us.

We were in a narrow, pitch black hallway.

“Uh, Bucky? Where are we?”

I heard the familiar sound of a light switch being flipped, and a dim overhead light flickered on. We were in a smallish gym with a boxing ring, punching bags, and weights. “I know the owner. Every once in a while, I help him train some clients in sparring.”

“Okay, so that explains the where and what. How about the why?” 

I trailed after him as he grabbed some gear from a shelf. “Wrap each of these around your hand and wrist.” He passed me two rolls of what looked like wrist bandages.

“You still haven’t told me why.” I settled my hand on my hip, the wraps dangling from the other hand.

“Because you need to get angry,” he said simply. 

Despite my confusion, I wrapped my hands and wrists as he instructed and then pulled on the boxing gloves he handed me. 

He gestured to the closest punching bag. “Go for it.”

“I don’t really know how to land a punch nor any sort of proper technique.” I shrugged my shoulders, gloved hands turned palms-up.

“Doesn’t matter. You aren’t trying to beat someone.” Once again, his arms were crossed though his posture seemed more relaxed than it had been earlier. “We’ll work on that later.”

I inhaled a deep breath and turned towards the bag which swayed the tiniest bit. With a half-hearted swing, I hit the padded target with a light thwack. 

“Again.” 

I punched again, the bag absorbing the impact oddly as it swung back towards me. This all felt so silly. I must have looked idiotic in the eyes of the man who could likely have pulled this punching bag into halves. 

I dropped my arms to my sides and turned back towards Bucky. “Respectfully, I just feel dumb. Not angry.”

He didn’t respond at first, so I stood in silence, feeling exponentially embarrassed.

“Turn around and face the punching bag again.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he repeated himself, his voice more commanding.

“Face the bag.”

His voice — the deep timbre, the no-nonsense instruction — sent a thrill through me that I hadn’t felt for quite a long while. I pushed it aside and did as he said, facing the now-still target.

“Why were you crying in the bathroom?”

I almost rolled my eyes. “I broke a nail.”

Bucky merely said my name in a tone that told me to be serious.

“Fine. Because Mike was a douchebag.”

“Punch the bag.” 

I frowned but did it anyway.

“What else? Why were you crying?” 

I fought the urge to just walk away. With a sigh, I gave him another answer. “Because Mike acted like he cared but sold me out.”

“Punch.”

I punched again only slightly harder than before.

“More.”

I was getting frustrated with Bucky. What else did he want from me? I’d given him answers. “Because I was held against my will?” 

“And?”

“What do you mean and!? Isn’t that enough! A year of my life was stolen from me!” Punch. “I was beaten —“ Punch “— and psychologically abused —“ Punch “— and raped repeatedly!” Two more punches. 

The bag swayed further from me as my voice crescendoed with each hit. “I opened up about what I liked in bed to someone who I thought liked me and he used it to traffic me!” My breath was growing ragged as I yelled, the sound of punches the only interruptions to my confessions. “And now, I’m only possibly free of him, but what happens next? I’m never gonna be me again! He ruined me! I can never ever forget them! I can never forget feeling helpless and in pain and disgusting.” My punching jerked the bag back and forth as it shuddered under my inconsistent hits. “I AM NEVER GOING TO BE FREE! AND IT IS ALL HIS FAULT!” My words echoed off the concrete walls as my punch faltered, tears blurring my eyesight. “It’s all my fault!” I sobbed, my punching barely hitting the bag anymore. “I shouldn’t have told him. I shouldn’t have trusted him. I shouldn’t have—“ I broke off, sobbing. “Why did I trust him?” 

I was enveloped in two strong arms. I tucked myself into his chest and sobbed despite the anger still thrumming through me. 

“I just want my life back!” My voice was muffled by Bucky’s jacket. I snaked my arms around him and hugged him back, my sobs taking over my ability to speak. 

Eventually my crying subsided, and I pulled away from Bucky’s hold, albeit reluctantly, but my anger was still a dull current in the back of my mind. I had forgotten how angry I had been in the first few months of my captivity. I had been focused on surviving. 

“Come on. You need some sleep.” Bucky gently tugged each of my gloves from my hands and waited patiently while I unwrapped the wrist wraps. He tossed the wraps into a bin labeled “laundry,” and we walked together towards the side door.

“Hey, Bucky?” My voice echoed in the quiet of the gym. 

He turned to look at me without a word.

“Thanks.”

I received a quick nod in response, followed by, “Welcome.” 

*~*

“Lie on the bed.”

Bucky used that voice again. The one that had my insides squirming with desire. 

I smirked at him. “Oh? This bed?”

“Doll,” he said with warning, lowering his voice even further. 

I shuddered in pleasure and scooted backward onto the bed, my naked body singing at the feel of the cool sheets against my warm core.

“Much better,” he praised, crawling over me, still fully dressed.

He kissed his way up my hips and across my stomach before teasing the tips of my nipples with his tongue. 

“Bucky…” I whined. 

“Something wrong, my love?” He flicked his tongue across the full width of my right nipple, drawing a deep moan from me.

“I need more,” I breathed.

“More, darling?” He sucked the other nipple into his mouth and swirled his tongue in a large circle around it. 

“Oh god, yes…”

He lifted his body from mine to dip downward, spreading my legs gently and settling his face at my apex. “More… like this…?” 

I woke to the sound of a loud horn on the street below. 

“Fuck.” I raked a hand through my hair. I was noticeably wet, my pussy humming with need. 

It had been so long since I’d had a sex dream that wasn’t a nightmare. I wanted so much to dip my hand down into my panties, spread my lips, and gather my juices into wide, lazy circles, but my mind resisted. It felt odd to touch myself for pleasure. My body hadn’t been my own for so long. 

I flipped onto my side with an annoyed groan and clenched my eyes shut.

*~*

“And these are… memes?” Bucky narrowed his eyes at the laptop screen.

“Yeah. They’re pictures that are meant to be funny or thought provoking, but most of them require some sort of outside knowledge or context for it to make sense.” 

“So this meme of Lord of the Rings… it’s referencing that Sam and Frodo can’t walk into Mordor?”

“Yeah, so it only makes sense if you know that line. But here it’s also making fun of the fact that McDonald’s ice cream machine is always mysteriously broken.”

Bucky studied the picture for a moment longer. “Huh. Clever. Gives a whole new meaning to a picture is worth a thousand words.”

“Right? So many people complain that upcoming generations are illiterate. While to a point that may have some accuracy, they also speak this whole other language. The Internet has sped up the evolution of language so much!” I smiled broadly at him; I had missed talking about books and language. Something within me felt like it was patching ever so slightly, tiny threads weaving around holes that had been growing inside of me. 

And then Bucky smiled, the smile reaching upwards into his eyes.

I blushed. “Sorry, I get a bit carried away when it comes to things like language and literature.”

His smile remained, but he shook his head. “Don’t apologize, doll. It’s good to see you get excited about something.” 

My blush deepened as I joked, “Then definitely don’t get me started on the growing use of the word dystopian to describe fiction that isn’t actually dystopian by definition.” 

“Oh? Is that widespread then?” He smirked playfully.

I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, mock me if you want. I guess you’ll never know.”

He considered something for a moment and stood, walking to the kitchen. I remained facing his laptop but heard dishes moving and the fridge opening and closing.

After a moment he returned and set a fresh mug of coffee with creamer in front of me on the end table.

I laughed loudly, appreciating the feeling of visible happiness. “Alright, so let’s start with the definition of dystopian…”

*~*

Bucky and I returned to the gym each night for the week after. Not only did I tire myself out, but I also remembered how I’d felt before. The anger that lit me up inside and told me to fight back.

Bucky also taught me how to punch properly along with other self-defense moves. I began to feel more confident in the punches, switching almost-fluidly between jabs and low kicks. 

We found a routine. I slept until 10 each morning while Bucky took his morning run and drank coffee with a light breakfast. When I woke, we shared brunch and talked about hobbies and books. Then the rest of the day was a mix of trying to keep busy (in my case) or discussing with Sam or Torres any potential sightings or hints of Rumlow (in Bucky’s case). 

And then around 11, we would walk the couple of blocks to the gym and I would punch and kick my anger through my veins and out into the world like a spell meant to bind Rumlow from doing his evil.

About a week after our first visit, Bucky decided it was time to teach me how to escape different holds. 

I had been doing well wrestling away from him when he held me across the shoulders from behind, but now he wanted to try a different hold, with him pinning me against a wall.

I pressed my back against the wall and raised my arms up in a surrendering position, the backs of my hands resting against the wall by my head. Bucky wrapped his hands around each of my wrists, restraining me with ease. 

“So first, you want to slide quickly down the wall as quickly as you can to catch them off guard.”

I tried to listen as carefully as I could, but Bucky shifted ever so slightly, putting more of his weight against me, and I felt twinges of arousal, my mind flashing briefly to the dream I’d had about him. It had been so long since I had been attracted to someone, had desired their body, that I had to hold in a whimper at the suddenness. 

Bucky said my name and I blinked at him. 

“Sorry?”

“Did you wanna try it now?”

I stuttered a bit trying to think of a way to tell him I hadn’t heard anything beyond the first instruction. “Er, could you lead me through it step by step? I think I’ll understand better if I do it a little at a time.”

He nodded and repeated the first instruction while I tried to ignore the wetness that had gathered in my panties. How on earth could I feel like this? This was wrong. After everything I had been made to do? How could I be turned on? How could this turn me on still? I refocused on Bucky’s instructions, desperate not to feel as dirty as I felt then.

After several more successful tries, Bucky glanced at his watch and announced it was almost time to wrap up. “We’ll do one more and then head out. This time, I’m gonna pin you with my hand around your throat. But I won’t press, okay?”

A part of me hesitated. I had always despised the feeling of being choked. I reasoned with myself. This was Bucky. And at least this time I wouldn’t get turned on. 

“Alright, let’s do it.” 

He taught me the basic moves before even touching me: the right way to twist suddenly, how to bend the attacker’s arm with the twist’s momentum, how to put the attacker in a chokehold from there.

“I’m not gonna press too hard, doll, but it’ll be enough that you’ll have to fight some.”

I inhaled slowly and nodded, bracing myself. Once again, I pressed against the wall but this time, instead of the tantalizing pressure of Bucky holding my arms, I fought not to panic.

He was true to his word; his grip wasn’t enough to do me any real harm, but my brain was transported somewhere else entirely.

Somewhere I wasn’t allowed clothing unless the client had a request. Somewhere safe words didn’t exist. Somewhere I lived in my nightmares. 

The sheets below me were cheap, the air stale with the smell of cigarettes and an overpowering cologne. One of my regulars, whom I was only allowed to call Master, but I knew was actually named Paul, was on top of me. He had just finished whipping me and had moved on to fuck and choke me until I almost passed out. 

I yanked at his wrists fruitlessly in an attempt to get him off of me, but he wouldn’t budge. With a distraught sob gurgling in the back of my throat, I dropped both of my arms to my side and gave in, allowing him to do whatever he wanted.

Without warning, the pressure dropped from my neck and I gasped for breath, spots swimming in front of my eyes. 

I blinked in confusion as someone called my name. None of them ever used my name.

It clicked all at once. Bucky. It was Bucky.

He was on the floor with me as I struggled to breathe, incapable of taking in air. 

“Breathe with me, doll. Just focus on my voice.” Bucky pulled my hand to his diaphragm. “In. Now out. Good. In…”

Something stuttered and despite my heart racing, I felt my lungs fill to capacity, and I coughed at the change, my hand pulling away from him as I fully realized what was happening. 

It was several more moments before my coughing subsided and my breathing returned completely to normal. By then, I was crying.

“I’m sorry —“ I sputtered between increasing sobs. “I’m sor-sorry!”

“No need to be sorry, doll.” Bucky was still close to me, crouched near enough he could’ve wrapped an arm around me, but he wasn’t touching me.

He stayed like that until my crying had dwindled. 

“Let’s get home. You should get a warm shower and get to sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep.” I hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Hadn’t meant to imply what I’m sure he already knew. The strength of the nightmares, the way they lingered while I stayed curled into the bed first thing upon waking.

He didn’t protest or try to insist that I needed sleep. With a short nod, he stood from his crouch, held out a hand to help me up, and said, “Okay. In that case, let’s run by the 24 hour market. We’re out of ice cream.”

Chapter Text

 Once we were back at his apartment, two pints of Ben & Jerry’s in tow, I was a bit surprised when Bucky didn’t ask for more details about my freak out at the gym. 

I suspected he had already pieced it all together, which gave me at least some comfort that I wouldn’t have to explain it all to him. 

We settled onto the couch, respective pints in hand - Cherry Garcia for Bucky and Pistachio Pistachio for me - and flipped on Netflix.

“What are you in the mood for?” I asked, tapping the remote several times to skim the options.

“Anything, I guess.” 

I pulled the lid off my ice cream while I debated. 

“Have you watched any of the Disney animated films?” I scraped at the topmost layer of ice cream with my spoon, watching it curl into a thin roll.

“Just the ones they made before 1942.” 

I frowned at him. “You haven’t watched any of them since you’ve been free? Not even the Disney Renaissance films?”

His eyebrows tucked together in confusion. “Disney Renaissance?”

“Oh, honey. Alright. Hand me your laptop. You need a Disney Plus account.”

I made the executive decision to skip some of the more minor films to revisit later, and we started with Three Caballeros, then moved onto Cinderella. We had gotten to “Bippity Boppity Boo,” before I felt the night catch up with me. Both pints of ice cream sat empty on the coffee table, spoons abandoned after the last bites. My eyes grew heavy, but I fought to keep them open. I knew where I would go once I fell asleep, and I was eager to avoid that as long as possible. 

My head bobbed a couple of times, so I shifted on the couch in hopes the movement would give me a second wind.

“Hey.”

I blinked in exhaustion up at Bucky. 

“Get some sleep.” 

I shook my head sleepily and mumbled, “Don’t wanna.”

At some point, Bucky must have pulled me against his side as I jerked awake only to find that I was tucked into his chest.

“Go back to sleep. I’ve got you.” His voice was low and soothing, close enough to me that I almost felt it in my chest. Blearily, I muttered something even I couldn’t recognize and let my head fall back down against his warmth. I was just awake enough to feel his arm wrap around me as I gave in to my dreams.

*~*

I woke draped over something warm and comfortable. It took me only a second to realize that Bucky had shifted to his back and was reclined on the arm of the couch, asleep. I was asleep resting almost entirely on top of him, my legs spread out on the couch while one of his legs was tucked under him and the other was hanging off the couch. 

Light poured into the living room, so I searched for a clock.

Nine in the morning. 

Bucky shifted in his sleep, his breathing changing. I made the gentlest of attempts to get off of him without waking him further. He had to be uncomfortable underneath my weight even if he was a super soldier. 

But as soon as I shifted, his eyes opened and met mine. I clumsily pushed upward and scooted to sit on the other side of the couch.

“Sorry I fell asleep on you.”

He sat up and stretched. “You needed the sleep. Are you still tired? I could make breakfast.”

“No, let me do it. I need to make myself useful and be more than just a waste of space.” I was already halfway to the kitchen before he responded.

“You aren’t a waste of space.”

I didn’t look back at him until I reached the fridge. He stood next to the couch, arms over his chest, staring at me with that same stoic expression.

There were a dozen arguments I immediately thought of that contradicted him. All I did all day was read or watch TV or occasionally make us lunch or dinner. Rarely did I clean — Bucky had few belongings to get messy and most of what we used in the kitchen went in the dishwasher. I couldn’t leave to go to work each day, and given that I had been essentially missing for over a year — though I’m pretty sure no one had actually reported me as such to the police — I wasn’t sure if I would get one even if I applied. How would I explain the gap on my resume? ‘Yeah, I didn’t have a job for the last year because I was being pimped out by an organization meant to make money for terrorists?’ 

But rather than say any of these thoughts aloud, I changed the subject. “Did you want French toast for breakfast?”

Bucky frowned at me and opened his mouth, but seemed to change his mind at the last second as he sighed a bit before responding. “French toast sounds great. Thanks.”

I faked a smile. “Great. I’ll make some bacon with it if there’s still some in the fridge.”

*~*

Sam came over that evening and while I made dinner — beef stew — I heard them whispering to each other, but couldn’t distinguish what was being said. 

After several minutes, I finally interrupted. “Sam, would you like to stay for dinner?”

The two fell silent and turned to me before glancing at each other.

“I’ve been doubling the recipes because Bucky needs so much to eat. There’s plenty here. Beef stew and rolls.”

Sam’s brow hiked up but Bucky scowled at him.

“Uh, I wish I could but—“

“I also made brownies for dessert.” I interrupted nonchalantly.

“She made brownies, Buck.” Sam smacked Bucky casually with the back of his hand.

“Sam’s very busy,” Bucky insisted.

Now I was even more suspicious. What were they hiding? 

“There’s ice cream for the brownies, too.” I turned around just as I said it, a smirk on my face. 

I heard angry whispering behind me, which had me almost giggling. 

By the time I had stirred the stew, checked on the rolls, and turned back to face the odd couple, Sam wore a smile.

“I would love to stay. It sounds delicious.”

Bucky said nothing, his scowl just somehow deepened; I was constantly surprised that somehow he could look even more annoyed than I had thought possible.

“Great. Everything is all ready, so go ahead and grab a seat.” 

Sam slid into one of the two stools at the counter. I handed Sam his bowl of stew and a plate for the tiny rolls, and then handed Bucky his bowl and plate just as he rounded the counter. I stepped back and held my hands behind my back.

Bucky shook his head and handed both the bowl and plate back to me. “Go sit. Eat.”

It took me a second to realize I had slipped back into old habits: the expectations Mike had instilled in me. I served him and any of his guests and then I waited until they were done, only to eat whatever was left out of their sight.

Based on the look Bucky wore, he knew exactly what I had done. I flushed red, ignoring how Sam was watching Bucky and me with interest. I sat and started eating, staring down into my bowl.

Sam addressed me,  “So, tell me, what have you been doing to get through what I assume are very dull days with Mr Chatty over here?”

I swallowed the bite I had been chewing. “Oh, um, well Bucky has checked out a lot of books for me to read, so I’ve done quite a bit of reading. We’ve also watched a lot of movies. Ones I missed while I… well, recent movies. Plus we started working our way through the Disney animated classics. I think tonight is Alice in Wonderland and Peter Pan if I can stay awake long enough.” 

Sam smiled at Bucky. “Books and Disney movies, huh?”

Bucky rolled his eyes but kept eating his stew over the sink.

“Bucky, did you want to sit?” I shifted a bit and draped a leg over the side of the stool, prepared to jump down.

“No, you sit. I’m fine here.”

“No, really, you should-“

“Sit. Enjoy your dinner.” That voice again. I subdued a shiver and wondered for a split second if he had any idea what that voice did to me. Perhaps he had just pieced together that I listened to him when he used it.

I huffed in annoyance but remained seated. “Fine, but I’ll stand for dessert.”

He made a sound that could have been construed as agreement, but which I had come to learn really meant ‘yeah, okay, you keep thinking that.’

“I’m always happy to stand, Bucky, if you would like to sit here in my seat next to our new friend.” Sam’s smile had grown wider.

“Shut it, Sam,” Bucky growled.

“Hey, I was just trying to be a good guest.” Sam’s tone suggested sincerity, but his smile looked a bit too evil for that.

I almost questioned it, but decided it was likely best not to. Instead, I gathered some courage and asked what I had been dying to ask all night. “So, any news…? You know, about… Rumlow?” 

Sam’s smile vanished, and Bucky’s annoyed expression shifted back to his usual resting stoic face. 

“Nothing you need to worry about,” said Bucky, helping himself to another bowl of stew.

“So you found something then. What did you find?”

Sam opened his mouth but Bucky shot him a look that seemed designed to kill. “Again, nothing for you to worry about.”

The anger Bucky had helped unleash grew in my chest. “I have a right to know. Depending on what it is, I might know more about it. I could help—“

“We don’t need your help.”

The room fell silent, tension rising in the apartment. 

“Excuse me?” I demanded. “Without me, you wouldn’t have even known Rumlow was still alive. Like hell you don’t need my help.”

Sam intervened. “I think what Bucky is trying to say is that we’ve got it covered. You don’t need to even think about Rumlow or his thugs again.”

I spun on him. “Are you kidding me? That’s like 80% of what I think about. Just because I’m no longer in their hold doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about them or reliving the shit I went through.”

Sam backtracked, setting his spoon down in his empty bowl. “I just mean it’s not your job to try to take them down. Just focus on healing.”

I jumped off the stool and pushed it under the counter. “How the hell do I do that? Knowing they’re still out there? Knowing others are still suffering what I suffered? Besides I can guarantee they’re still looking for me. You two really don’t fucking understand.”

I shook my head and stalked off towards the bedroom where I sat on the bed, legs curled up under me, anger thrumming through me.

There was some quiet talking and then I heard the door open and close. Moments later, Bucky appeared in the doorway. 

“You told me to get angry.” I muttered. “Well, here I am. Angry.”

“I didn’t mean for you to use it as a way to get involved in this fight.” Bucky crossed the threshold into the room and paused at the foot of the bed. 

“Well that backfired then, didn’t it?” I snapped.

Bucky seemed to be considering something as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Sam thinks you should know anything they figure out. I think it’ll do you more harm than good.”

I gaped at him. “You lived for decades having no control over anything you did or knew. While mine was not nearly as long nor to the same extent, you would continue to subject me to remain in such a position?” 

That seemed to hit home. I saw, for a moment, his carefully crafted mask slip. 

“I’m not gonna go hunt Rumlow down with a stolen gun and some half-assed self-defense moves. I just don’t want to be in the dark. I’ve spent most of the last year there,” I pleaded.

He exhaled with an exhausted frown. “We know a few things now. One is the date of that invitation-only event you told us about. It’s sooner than we thought - beginning of July, so only another six weeks or so. The other you already seem to know… Rumlow is still looking for you, and we think he knows you’re still in New York.” 

My heart skipped erratically. I had suspected as much, but having it confirmed was something else.

“As long as you’re with me, they won’t get to you. I won’t let that happen.” 

I nodded though I was only half-listening. 

Bucky said my name, drawing it out to make sure I was focused on him.

“Hm?”

“I will keep you safe. I promise.”

I bit at my bottom lip and nodded. “He’s never going to stop. They had… plans for me. It’s why I ran.” 

Bucky cocked his head slightly. “What plans?”

I shifted on the bed, untucking my legs from under me to pull my knees to my chin. “One of my regular… clients. He wanted to purchase me. Permanently.” I swallowed down the panic just saying it aloud. “He was going to give them some amount of money that Rumlow believed would get him back on top. Put him back in Hydra’s good graces.”

“When was that gonna be?” 

“At the party. Mike came in one day whistling and ecstatic. He told me they were going to have me out with the others where the clients were, but they weren’t going to allow anyone to bid on me. I was… I was going to be a spectacle. They would announce the sale at the end of the night, and the client would… well, he wanted to show off how he intended to enjoy his purchase.” I buried part of my face into my knees, willing myself to disappear. I didn’t even want to see Bucky’s reaction.

I felt the bed dip, and Bucky’s voice was just next to me though quieter than before. “That isn’t going to happen. I would kill all of them before I would let it.”

“I was their prized whore.” I knew my words were muffled, my breath hot against my legs as I spoke. “You don’t know, Bucky. You don’t…” I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead down, my knees pushing against my hairline.

“What don’t I know?” 

I felt the warmth of his body next to me. I had begun to feel so comfortable with him and more and more I was having to remind myself that I was not in the position to get into a relationship, not to mention there was no way Bucky would be interested in me. Forgetting entirely that I was a former whore, there was no way someone like me would catch the attention of someone like him.

Did I dare put the nail in that coffin? Officially dig that grave and toss a fist of soil on the lid? 

I let a breath out through my lips and lifted my face to look at him.

“I like… being told what to do. In bed. And some other things that would probably blow up your 100-some year old brain. Whips. Being tied up. But with consent and a lot of understanding and trust. Safe words.” I had to look away then. “There were no safe words with the clients. No boundaries...but with my…interests, I attracted some of the wealthiest clients.”

The bed squeaked a little as Bucky shifted; I imagined he was uncomfortable at learning what a freak I was. 

“And this potential buyer…?”

“He’s sadistic. He loves to dole out pain, and I… that’s not something I like. He also loves ultimate control all the time. I just know if I were sold to him, he would have me naked and collared and on a leash all the time. I know some people like that, but I… I don’t. Plus I always had bruises for days after he came to see me. He also…he used a knife once. I still have the scar.”

Bucky let out a sound I could only describe as a growl. 

“Please keep me up to date with what Torres finds. I need to know what’s going on. It’s the only control I feel like I’ve got right now.” I met Bucky’s eyes with mine, unshed tears blurring his features.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll let you know updates as I get them.” His voice grew louder and sterner. “But if I decide it would only hurt you, I’m keeping it to myself.”

I nodded and made that same noise of fake agreement that he always made.

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t use that against me.”

Despite the tears that threatened to spill, I laughed before smiling with feigned innocence. “I’m not sure what you mean, Bucky.”

He grumbled but I saw a hint of a smile. “Come on, we still have brownies to eat.” 

“Oh, Sam didn’t get any. Should we call him and see if he’s still nearby?”

Bucky stood and held a hand out to help me up from the bed. “Hell no.”

“Well that’s not very nice,” I teased.

“Not sure where you got the impression I was nice, doll.” 

I stepped around him. “Oh, please. You’re a big softie. But I promise not to tell anyone.” I walked away from him, headed towards the bedroom door.

From behind me, I heard Bucky mutter something that I couldn’t quite make out. Just after, he cleared his throat and spoke louder. “If my reputation is ruined, I’ll know who to blame.”

I chuckled and swiped away one final tear. “Oh no! Whatever will I do? The big strong super soldier is gonna, what, withhold brownies from me?” I smirked at him from over my shoulder.

“And eat them right in front of you. With ice cream.” 

“Gasp! The horror!” I paused to press the back of my hand to my forehead in mock panic. 

“Come on, drama queen. The brownies are cooling off as it is. They’ll never melt the ice cream now.” Bucky walked past me to the kitchen counter and began digging through a drawer.

A part of me deep down was yelling through my entire being to fight the feelings I knew were taking root. But I felt the goofy smile on my face, and the flutter of my heart when he looked up at me. 

If I were very lucky, Sam and Bucky and Torres would figure out how to take down Rumlow sooner rather than later. Because I couldn’t get used to this — being with Bucky all the time, joking with him and leaning on him to deal with my shit. 

I couldn’t become attached. 

I had to remember I wasn’t here because Bucky wanted me here. I was here because Bucky wanted to take down Hydra. 

I was simply the means to the ends.

My smile wavered, but I plastered another back on. 

I could do this. I had to do this.

Chapter Text

This chapter is from Bucky’s perspective, because variety is the spice of life. 

Bucky lay in bed that night thinking about everything he had learned about his… houseguest. 

After she had gone to bed, he had looked up the sex interests she had confessed to having and it had led him down a rabbit hole he wouldn’t soon forget. Some of it had taken him aback, some had disgusted him, and yet… some of what she had told him about and what he found online had piqued his interest. 

He liked the idea of having control, but he also really liked the idea of someone trusting him so much that they gave up their control to him. Ever since she had told him about it, he’d had to ignore images conjured in his mind, all of her. Bucky tying her to his bed. Bucky pushing her to her fourth orgasm, his fingers pressing into her g-spot while he lapped up her juices. Bucky spanking her over his lap while she soaked into his jeans. 

It had taken every ounce of his self-control to keep from touching himself.

Bucky muttered to himself as he turned onto his side on the couch, “I have got to stop thinking about her like that. She doesn’t deserve to be objectified like that.”

He normally just took the floor, but she had convinced him to at least try the couch. Bucky was certain if he mentioned that to Sam, he would never hear the end of it. I’ve been trying to get you to do that for months! Sam would moan, before smirking yet again. Sam would’ve also been proud that he’d used the word “objectified” after they’d watched some political debate together. 

He chose not to think about either of those things.

Half of his evening with Sam had been spent trying to convince the former birdbrain to lay off the implications that he needed to make a move on her once she was better.

She deserved to be with someone better. 

But damn what he would give to hold those hips while he slammed up into her, to hear her cry his name as he sucked a nipple into his mouth and lavished her breasts, each of them filling his hands perfectly. And those thighs. 

Ever since he had crashed through the bathroom door and accidentally seen her body… He tried to shut that thought out. He hadn’t meant to see her like that. Her body wasn’t for him to look at, to daydream about. 

But oh, the image of her wrapping those thighs around his head while he ate like a man starved… 

No. He had to stop. She had spent so long being used. 

Bucky sighed. The more he got to know her, the more he found he wanted to tell her things. Personal things. Things he hadn’t really thought about since before. He had found himself laughing easier and more often since she had been there. 

The couch creaked as he shifted again. If he ever found those clients of hers, he may need another government pardon. He’d seen the scars and when she’d first gotten there, some bruises were still fading. It was hard to tell how all of the scars had been made; he’d only gotten a quick look. But that brand… BR. That image haunted Bucky. Even knowing Rumlow had touched her was too much, but that he branded her with his initials? Bucky had a sudden urge to punch something, preferably something named Brock and preferably until he made a new Brock-shaped indentation in the ground. 

Bucky always thought he had seen the worst of humanity, had been the worst of humanity, and then something contradicted those assumptions. This time, however, he was certain he had found it. 

Bucky’s jaw tensed. 

Rumlow and his lackeys didn’t know it yet, but he was going to make sure they atoned for every mark on her body.

*~*

Bucky squinted in the dim room. He could hear people, but he couldn’t see anyone.

“Red, please. Please stop. Red! Red!” 

“I own you, whore. You don’t tell me when to stop.”

There. She was right there.

 Bucky halted upon first seeing her. She was naked, a tight collar on her neck, and ropes, suspended from the ceiling, holding her wrists high above her. A faceless man next to her held a knife in one hand and a cane in the other.

He gaped at the bruises which littered her body, the blood that poured from several knife wounds. 

Bucky called her name, and she turned to stare at him. “Let me help you!” 

“You don’t understand, Bucky,” she said. “You said I can’t help you, but really…you can’t help me.” 

Bucky woke with a thin sheen of sweat covering his body. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. As silly as it was, a significant part of him wanted to make sure she was okay even though he knew she was in the next room. 

Instead of getting up, he surveyed the room to distract his mind. It was still so bare despite the stack of library books on the bookshelf. Maybe he should get her help ordering some things on the Internet. What else did people even decorate with?

His eyes fell on the closed bedroom door. He could be in and out — she wouldn’t even…

No. She was fine. He didn’t need to check on her. 

Maybe some curtains? But what color would she like? No. What color would he like? It was his apartment. 

Once he killed Rumlow and took down his newfound organization, she would leave and restart her life. The life she’d had before Mike, before the abuse.

Before Bucky. 

With an annoyed grunt, Bucky stood from the couch and crept to the bedroom. From inside, he heard her breathing steadily, fast asleep. That should’ve been enough, hearing her, knowing she rested in his bed.

And yet. 

He eased the door open and peeked in at her sleeping form. 

In all the time he’d had the bed, he’d never been tempted to sleep in it, but suddenly it looked inviting. 

Shaking his head, he closed the door and went back to the couch.

*~*

She had finished her best round yet on the punching bag and was patiently awaiting Bucky’s next lesson. 

He had considered several options for today, but ultimately knew he had to do the one he wasn’t looking forward to.

It wasn’t that he thought she would do badly or because it was physically difficult.

He was unnerved to do it because it meant straddling her, his arms holding her to the floor like she was offering herself up, a sacrifice for him to devour. He already had an inkling of what that would do to him and he wasn’t a fan of finding out for certain.

But she needed to know how to protect herself.

“Okay, so you’ll need to lie on your back on the floor.” He started out strong; no wavering of his voice, no awkward expressions. 

She was biting at her lip. One of the signs Bucky had observed whenever she was nervous. Hopefully he could teach her in a way that wouldn’t trigger a flashback. 

“I’m going to teach you how to overpower someone who’s on top of you.”

Her demeanor shifted.

“Huh, I used to love being overpowered by a top,” she quipped. Immediately her hands clamped over her mouth and she turned beet red. Loosening her hands a bit, she stammered, “I am so so sorry! I - I used to joke like that all the time, but I haven’t in… well. I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry.”

Bucky felt his cock twitch at the image, but ignored it to reassure her. “It’s fine. I don’t mind it.” I would prefer it, actually. “It’s good you’re joking. Sam would say it means you’re healing.” 

She scoffed a bit. “Sexual innuendo is healing. That I can do.” 

Bucky chuckled quietly. More of her personality was sneaking through, either because she started to feel more comfortable with him or because she had been away from her abuse for a little while.

A selfish part of him hoped it was the former.

“Alright, where were we? Ah, yes, the life of a bottom.” She shook her head. “Sorry, sorry. Once I get started…”

She didn’t see Bucky’s widening smile as she eased herself to the mat and lay on her back. Being around her was going to become even more difficult if she kept making those jokes. He’d only masturbated a few times since being freed, but suddenly he had the notion he would be tempted to do it more often.

He waited until she was settled and then gave her a play by play before doing anything else.

“I’m going to get on top of you and pin your arms to the mat while straddling you with my legs. You’re going to use your knees to bump me forwards and knock me off balance. From there, you’re going to use your arm and leg to hook around my arm and leg and throw me off of you to the side.”

“I followed… some of that.”

She gave him a smile that spoke clearly of her nervousness. 

“It’s okay. I’ll help you through it. I just wanted you to know everything I would be doing.” He cleared his throat. “Ya know, so you’re more comfortable.” 

Her smile this time was genuine, which sent his heart soaring. 

“I appreciate that.”

“Sure,” he replied. “No problem.”

They were both still for a few seconds before Bucky remembered what he was supposed to be doing. 

“Okay, we’ll… get started.” He hoped she wouldn’t be able to tell that he felt like a teenage boy about to lose his virginity. 

Bucky wasn’t certain he believed in a god anymore, but he murmured a quiet prayer to himself that he would maintain self-control. 

With the same care a museum curator may use with a priceless artifact, Bucky climbed over her, straddling her just so. He was incredibly aware of the fact that his crotch was pressed right above her pelvis all while he held her wrists to the floor.

“Now place your feet flat on the floor so your knees are pointing up.”

She did exactly that, her knees now pushed against his ass and lower back. He held back a groan and kept going.

“All at once, use as much force as possible and push your knees against me to knock me forward.” 

Her nose crinkled up as she contemplated what he meant and Bucky was hard pressed to remember what he had just told her to do. 

This meant that when she bumped him with her knees, he was momentarily surprised and was successfully thrown forward; Bucky caught himself on his hands.

While it was great she had managed to propel him off of her exactly as intended, this also meant that his stomach was now aligned with her face. It was difficult not to consider how close her face was to other parts of him. 

With all of his training at his disposal, Bucky focused on giving her instructions.

“Now hook your arm over my arm—“ he paused as she did, so he could adjust her in a stronger position— “and now the same with your foot.”

He felt her opposite foot at his ankle.

“No, the same side as your arm.”

He peered down to look at her as he spoke. She flushed that beautiful shade of pink he was beginning to love and muttered an apology before changing out to her left foot.

“No need to apologize. I wasn’t clear,” Bucky reassured her. “Now pull with that arm and foot and use the momentum to flip me.” He hoped she would do this quickly so he wouldn’t have to be so mindful of how close his penis was to her mouth. 

With only momentary hesitation, she yanked and flipped, but his body strength seemed to cause her difficulty and while he did fall over, her body didn’t go where it should have. 

Because rather than pin him in much the same manner he had pinned her, she tumbled and fell face first into his groin.

Chapter Text

I scrambled off of Bucky as quickly as I could, but as I placed my hand down in order to push up to a sitting position, I realized where it had landed. I pulled my hand away as if I’d been burned. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” 

My brain raced through several thoughts all at once. Had that been his dick? Had I just pushed myself up using his penis? Holy shit, that had been his penis. 

It took another full second to realize: holy fuck, his dick is huge.

Bucky, meanwhile, had gotten up from the floor, and while his face was a bit red, he didn’t look angry.

Once again, my face hot, I word-vomited at him. “I am so so so sorry. I didn’t mean to —“ I motioned towards my face. “—And I didn’t mean to—“ I started to motion towards his crotch and then stopped, my face growing even hotter.

“It’s okay. Shit like that happens in training.”

I covered my face. “Oh, god, I do not want to do that again.” Wait, would he think I was insulting him? “I mean, not that I don’t want to touch — I mean, I don’t want to touch — I’m sure there are plenty of women, o-or, men, who would want to touch your —“ I cut myself off with a frustrated growl, my hands coming up off my face and flailing around. “You know what I mean!”

And then Bucky was laughing. Louder than I think I had heard him laugh the whole time I had known him — which, granted, wasn’t very long, but long enough to know his laughs were more subdued.

“Well, I’m glad you find this funny.” I tried to sound sarcastic, but I had started smiling and chucking as well. “Can we just head home and try this again another night?”

“Sure,” Bucky said, still laughing, though more quietly.

We cleaned up the gym and headed out.

It wasn’t until we arrived back at his apartment that I realized I had called it home and he hadn’t corrected me.

*~*

I tried my best not to be awkward around Bucky for the entirety of our viewing of Lady and the Tramp, but I wasn’t certain how well I managed. 

I was already about to fall asleep by the time the credits started, but my main focus was trying not to fall asleep on Bucky. The last thing I wanted was to accidentally touch his penis again.

“Do you want to start the next movie? You kind of look like you just want to go to bed.”

I frowned. Sleeping Beauty was easily in my top “Princesses Who Just Get Married” list, but I was pretty exhausted. 

I glanced at Bucky. I really liked spending time with him; his presence was so comforting. And I also really liked Sleeping Beauty.

And what if I fell asleep on him again? Would he start to see me as a burden? As if I weren’t already a burden…

Would it be so bad to have this moment? This one tiny moment after days and weeks and months of misery and anguish and helplessness? 

One tiny flicker?

“Let’s go ahead and start it. If I need to go to bed, you can always keep watching it or just pause it until tomorrow.” 

He hit the button and the opening music started. “Want a beer? They’re pretty good.” Bucky stood to head towards the kitchen.

“Yeah that would be great. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anything to drink. I’ve missed it.”

The first sip was heaven — Bucky had good taste in beer. It was a craft lager I’d never heard of. “Damn that is good.”

Bucky took a swig of his own bottle and swallowed. “I’m sad to say these were a recommendation from Sam.”

I snorted a bit and took another sip. “You don’t have to hate everything he likes, you know.”

He shrugged and took a long draw from his beer. “I don’t hate everything he likes. I just don’t make it a point to tell him when I do like something.”

I rolled my eyes and downed several gulps, relishing in the quick relief that flooded my veins. Apparently my tolerance had taken quite a hit in the last year. 

“So you’re telling me she’s gonna curse a baby cuz she wasn’t invited to a damn party?” Bucky finished his beer and set the empty bottle on the coffee table. 

“I mean, it’s more than that. At the time, that was a huge slight. It was expected that everyone would have received an invite. To only refuse her an invitation is like asking for a war.” I drank another third of the beer, a rush going straight to my head. “Man it has definitely been a while since I drank.”

Bucky chuckled. “Careful there. If you weren’t tired before, you will be soon.”

“Mmhm.” I finished my beer and placed the empty bottle next to Bucky’s. 

We continued watching the movie, Bucky asking questions every so often or reacting to something. 

The fairies were preparing for Aurora’s birthday when the beer more thoroughly kicked in.  

“This is the best scene of the entire movie.” I commented, yawning immediately after.

“Then you should stay awake for it, huh?” Bucky joked.

“Hmmm…” I blinked a few times in an effort to keep my eyes open. 

It wasn’t long before I gave into my exhaustion and the strength of the alcohol. My eyes closed, I leaned over towards Bucky and rested my head on his arm.

“You’re very comfortable,” I said.

“Uh? Thank you?”

I smiled into his shirt sleeve; half-asleep and still a bit tipsy, I murmured what my brain was thinking: “I could use you as a pillow every night. Comfy and safe and with you…” I sighed blissfully. “Being with you… that would be nice.”

And then I fell asleep.

*~*

I woke in Bucky’s bed, disoriented and struggling to remember how I got there. 

Had he carried me in here? Had I— 

Oh. Oh no. 

I remembered what I’d said and my heart sank. How dumb was I? 

I buried my face in the pillow and resisted my desire to scream into it, knowing Bucky would hear. 

I needed this to be over. My fear I would be found and held captive again. My crush. My isolation with said crush in his apartment. The apartment I had just called home not 12 hours ago… 

I shouldn’t even have a crush right now. What the fuck was I doing having a crush on someone? I literally just ran away from forced prostitution! I was in no mental state to be someone’s girlfriend.  And this was all on top of feeling horny every time I accidentally touched Bucky or smiled at him or hell, thought about him? And his voice? Hearing him use that commanding voice? How the hell could I want to be dommed now? 

The pillow pressed against my skin, the fabric growing damp as I began crying. I breathed in the waning smell that reminded me of Bucky; it had begun to fade the more I slept there. The smell, or perhaps the dying of the smell, only caused me to cry harder as I held the pillow closer hoping to muffle the sound as much as possible.

I was never going to be normal. I was never going to be okay. 

And until I left, Bucky was just going to be a reminder of that.

*~*

I emerged some time later, my eyes likely still red and puffy. Bucky looked up from his phone, his eyes trained directly at mine as if deciphering coded secrets as soon as I crossed the threshold.

“Morning,” I said with faked cheer.

“Good morning. I’ll likely go to the store later — we need more eggs and milk. If you’d like anything, just write it down and I’ll pick it up.” 

“Sounds good.” I stood just inside the living room feeling awkward in the apartment for the first time in a while. 

“What would you like for brunch?” Bucky stood from the couch and made his way towards the small kitchen.

My stomach twisted at the idea of sitting with him and making small talk. This wasn’t a friendship, and it definitely wasn’t a relationship. I needed to hold myself at arms’ length starting right then. 

I’d suffered enough in my life. I didn’t need Bucky to realize he was stuck living with someone who had a silly schoolgirl crush on him.

“I’m actually not really hungry. I think I’ll just go take a shower; thank you though.”

Bucky opened his mouth, seemingly hesitating before he acknowledged my answer. “Sure. No problem.”

I vanished into the bathroom and turned the water on as hot as it would go. I undressed quickly and practically dove under the water where I could pretend, at least for a moment, like nothing else existed — just the warmth cascading over me. 

*~*

The next several days crept by. While Bucky and I went on as if everything were normal, there were hints that things had changed. I made sure to remain on the other side of the couch when we watched movies. We were more cautious and careful of bumping into one another when moving in smaller spaces like the kitchen. And Bucky had found self defense techniques that he could teach me without making much contact.

Each night, I went to bed angry with myself for ruining things. And each morning; I woke up and trudged out of the room, prepared for another day of playing pretend. 

It had been almost three weeks since my slip up when Sam stopped by to talk to Bucky.  

I was cleaning up from lunch when he showed up, acting a bit too cheerful for me not to be suspicious. 

After a few minutes of small talk, I excused myself to the bathroom only to lock the door and press my ear to it. 

“What do you mean? It’s like two weeks away! It can’t be that hard,” Bucky was saying.

“We just don’t have a way in. The invitations for this party are locked down. Without the invite, there’s no way to infiltrate.”

My mind immediately flashed to a memory of Mike’s laptop, of him opening up a poorly-hidden file with a guest list. Every person who security would allow through the door.

I flicked the lock and yanked the door open, bursting back into the living room.

“I can get us in!”

Both men stopped talking and turned to stare at me in surprise.

“I can get you on the list.”

Sam’s expression became one of interest, Bucky’s wary.

“Mike has access to the invite list. It’s what they give to security. They refuse to use paper invitations — too risky. It’s names only, fake names at that.”

“But in order for you to get someone on the list…” Sam began.

I inhaled a deep breath and finished his thought. “I have to be caught.”

Chapter Text

Bucky’s perspective once again :)

Bucky hadn’t been quite sure what to expect when he had taken this random woman back to his apartment weeks ago. But if you’d told him that he would have begun to have feelings for her, he would’ve said you were nuts.

Bucky didn’t have feelings for women anymore. He was too damaged, too wrapped up in his guilt. 

But slowly he had laughed with her and joked with her and had even borderline flirted with her. It felt almost natural. Almost like he was who he used to be.

And then she fell asleep on him, murmuring about how comfortable he was and how nice it would be to be with him. 

And Bucky realized how incredibly selfish it would be for him to pursue her. Because she had also said he was safe; Bucky was anything but safe. He was practically a magnet for trouble.

The morning after Sleeping Beauty, it was clear she was upset about something. Maybe she was embarrassed over being tipsy in front of him?

That made things a little easier on him as suddenly she sat further away on the couch and hadn’t fallen asleep on him since. No longer could he smell her floral shampoo and the lingering notes of dark roast coffee that she drank near religiously. No longer could he soothe her with caresses to the smooth skin of her arm as she started to whimper from a nightmare. 

There may have been a gnawing feeling of regret, a pit in his stomach each time he thought of her smile and her humor knowing he would one day be without it. There may have been moments fraught with tension as he desperately wished he could close the gap between them and gently press his lips to hers. 

But there was also the knowledge that by refusing that happiness for himself, she would be safe. Truly safe.

So to hear her so nonchalantly proclaim she would willing venture back into the lion’s den… Bucky had to fight not to pull her into his arms and find somewhere for them to hide together.

“No. Absolutely not.” Bucky shook his head, arms crossed in his ‘I mean business’ pose.

“Buck, this might be the only way…” Sam’s voice was quiet, but firm. 

“We will find another way,” Bucky insisted. He turned to look at her. “He will kill you.”

“No, he won’t. I’m worth too much. He’ll punish me, but even then he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his money.” 

She bit at her lip and Bucky immediately knew she was holding something back. 

He said her name and she knew he understood that there was more. 

“I know the way Rumlow thinks. He’ll use my escape as a means to negotiate my price higher. The Mas- client likes to break his women.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed at the implication. This Master tortured women. He had tortured her. He had broken her. 

Her voice quieted. “It’s why he liked me. He knew I had run before. If I went back now, Rumlow wouldn’t punish me. He would demand more money and then… he would let the client do it at the party.” 

Sam took in a quick breath, but Bucky didn’t react. 

As soon as she had burst into the room excitedly yelling she could get them in, he’d known what it meant, what it would entail. The pit in his stomach had morphed into something more ominous.

“But it wouldn’t get that far. Whomever is getting in - they would stop it all before then. Right?” She continued on, pleading. “I would be safe.” 

Bucky was back to shaking his head again. “There is no guarantee it would go as planned. They might be discovered. They might not get to you and this client could run off with you. Absolutely not. You’re not going back into that hell.” 

Images flashed through his mind: the punishments she would receive by this sicko at the party, the fear in her eyes if they didn’t get to her, the marks that were already on her body. 

But her demeanor shifted then and she cocked her head at him. “You don’t get to tell me that. It’s not your choice. It’s mine. And I’m doing it.”

Fear curdled deep within Bucky, so he decided on the only way to keep her safe.

“Fine. But I’m the one going in.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Don’t you think they’re gonna recognize you?”

Bucky answered, still looking at her, the woman who had him questioning so much of who he could be for the first time in a long while. “I have a photostatic veil. Let’s just say an old friend left it to me.” 

“And your arm? I know a face veil ain’t gonna do shit for that,” said Sam, his gaze shifting to Bucky’s uncovered hand.

“I have gloves. No one will think twice about some rich bastard wearing weird shit.” 

Sam nodded. “When should she get…re-captured?”

“Two days before the party,” Bucky said immediately.

She shook her head at him. “It’ll be too suspicious. It needs to be at least a couple of weeks before. And I need to start going out and about today to be seen. It’s in our favor that they moved the party. It’ll be less suspicious since I can pretend I still think it’s in August.”

Bucky ground his teeth together. He knew she was right — about all of it — but he didn’t want her back with those scum for so long. 

She seemed to pick up on that, saying, “Bucky. You know I’m right.”

Stupidly, Bucky’s first thought was to wonder when she had gotten better at reading him. It was immediately followed by something else much more dreadful: but what if we’re all wrong? 

He glanced over at Sam to get a read on his thoughts. Sam frowned and gave Bucky a tiny shrug and nod to show him that he agreed with her even if he didn’t like it. 

“I can call Shuri. We’ll get you a tracker. Something small and hard to find.”

“Bucky.” Her voice was just above a whisper. “They’ll be looking.”

Bucky sighed. “Then we have a lot more training to do. We start tonight.” 

*~*

Bucky studied the sweat-soaked, panting woman in front of him. She was getting stronger and faster, but still had a long way to go. It had been four days since her headfirst dive into the mission, but Bucky could only focus on how little time they had left. It particularly hadn’t helped that she had wandered around New York City for a few hours earlier, attempting to look inconspicuous while making sure to slip up in ways that appeared natural - something else Bucky had taught her how to do.

“Again.”

“Bucky.” She breathed in deeply and exhaled it in one big burst, her next sentence punctuated by short gasps. “I. Cannot. Do. More.”

“That’s not good enough. You have to be prepared.” His tone was harsher than he’d intended, but he needed perfection. Anything less meant a future he didn’t want to consider.

“Bucky. Seriously.” 

“Again.”

With another heavy exhale, she took the stance he had taught her, ready to dodge and punch.

Bucky charged at her, something he never would have done in an actual fight, but something that was necessary for her to practice defending herself.

He moved through the motions, pulling his punches so he wouldn’t hurt her; his first two tapped her lightly as she failed to dodge them both. 

“Pay attention to my body. They will help give away where I’m going.”

Bucky swiveled effortlessly to come at her from another angle. “Try to hit me.”

“Bu-Buck…” She struggled to finish the word as her body swayed dangerously. 

Bucky was already moving by the time her knees buckled, her name on his lips as he sought to catch her. 

Her limp body cradled in his arms, he carried her towards the water fountain and gently drizzled some of the water onto her forehead before smoothing it over her skin. She stirred a little, so he repeated the action before fanning her face.

It took, in Bucky’s opinion, too long for her eyelids to flutter open and meet his gaze. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

She pressed her eyes closed and drew in a breath. “Tired.”

Her breathing was better but still labored, her face pale. “Come on. Let’s go so you can get some sleep.” 

Bucky stood, still holding her in his arms despite her weak protests. 

“No arguing. This is how we are getting home.” 

She made one last half-hearted plea before settling against his chest. 

It wasn’t until they were over the threshold that Bucky realized his word choice: not “my apartment.” Just “home.”

*~*

She woke several hours later in Bucky’s bed, but this time Bucky lay next to her, reading a book.

Slipping his bookmark in to hold his place, he set it on the nightstand and craned his body towards her.

“You haven’t been sleeping.” He had run through all the possibilities while she slept. She had been eating okay, and so far she hadn’t exhibited signs of any sort of illness. That only left one thing. 

Bucky had to give her credit. She didn’t argue with him.

“I can’t,” she whispered. Her eyes teared up, one slipping free to roll sideways, across her ear and down onto the pillow. 

He heard Dr Raynor’s voice in his head: “ask her why. Engage with people and their feelings!”

But Bucky knew why. If someone asked him a question they already knew the answer to, he would just give them a dirty look. 

So instead, he asked a different question.

“Did you want to talk about it?”

Her eyes closed, another tear rolling free. “I close my eyes, and then it’s all there in my dreams. Everything goes wrong. I fuck it up. I’ve been sold. Rumlow is still free. You’re —“ She paused, her words slowing from their previous blur to a crawl. “You’re dead. I know that this is the only way for me to be free and I’m the one that volunteered, but…”

“It’s okay to be scared,” Bucky reassured. 

“You didn’t even want me to do it. And I get it. It must already be hard enough to try to fight the bad guy, but now you also have to try and train and protect someone else while doing it? It’s too much.”

An odd feeling passed through him just then. She thought he only objected because it would be bothersome to protect her? 

The words were out of his mouth before he thought it through. “Doll, that’s not why I objected.” He regretted them as soon as he finished.

A tear’s path shifted as her eyebrows furrowed. “Then why did you?”

He couldn’t tell her the truth. Couldn’t say that the idea of her not being in his apartment made him feel like the air had been sucked out of the room. Bucky shouldn’t tell her that his dreams were now filled with her — him saving her or watching in terror as he couldn’t save her. Him dreaming of leaving gentle kisses on every scar on her body, caressing the raised, mangled flesh of each transgression, each abuse that she had suffered. 

Bucky didn’t deserve the kindness. He didn’t deserve the happiness. But it was more than that. She needed to heal; she needed someone who would help her heal, not weigh her down with his own problems. Already she had tried to pay him back with a blow job — would she feel beholden to him if he confessed his feelings? Or what if she had become so comfortable with him after such trauma that she thought she reciprocated his feelings, but actually didn’t? It wasn’t fair to her. He had to be better than all those others who had thought only of themselves.

So he opted for a half-truth. “I don’t want to see you get hurt. It’s been nice having someone other than Sam around. I would hate to have to go back to just spending time with him.”

Even this seemed to surprise her. “You…you still want to hang out after… after everything is done with? Like... friends?” 

Bucky swallowed down the emotional confession trying to break free. “Yeah. Friends.”

She smiled, and Bucky’s heart soared. 

“I’d like that.” 

“Good. Now your first matter of business: getting more rest.” 

“But I need to train. I need to get better.” Her voice shook, filled with the fear of the impending deadline. “I want you to focus on taking them down. Not keeping me safe.”

Guilt flooded Bucky. He had spent much of the time while she slept thinking about how hard he had pushed her, how much he could have hurt her. 

“I need to apologize. I’m sorry for earlier; I should have listened when you said you couldn’t do anymore.” His heart leapt into his throat again at the memory of her falling. “I…I’m so sorry.”

Instead of being angry with him, she merely shrugged. “It’s okay. I know you just want me to be prepared to stay safe.” She yawned then. “I think I’m gonna try to get another couple hours of sleep. I’m still pretty exhausted. Would you… would you stay? At least, until I fall asleep?”

Bucky resisted the urge to reach over to her and tuck several strands of stray hair behind her ear. “Yeah, yeah I’ll stay. Get some sleep. I’ll be here.” 

“Thanks, Bucky.” She curled into herself and closed her eyes, her head laying mere inches from where he sat. 

He vaguely remembered his book, which sat waiting for him to continue, but he found he couldn’t look away from her. Instead, he tortured himself, remembering what it had felt like to hold her in his arms and wondering what it would be like to do that again, but side by side, as they slept in the comfort of each other.

Chapter Text

I had wandered around two more times since my first excursion, each time appearing to run quick errands, things anyone would need to do. Sam had arranged for Torres to come to the apartment and meet me, so later he could pretend to proposition me on the street. Make Runlow think I was making money in the way he taught me all while having them believe that no one would miss me if they took me again — no employer would call the cops to do a wellness check. 

Bucky met me each time in an agreed-upon location, not speaking to me, but just catching my eye. And then he led us out and away, until we were sneaking side by side as he made sure we weren’t followed home. 

It was only a matter of days before Bucky would back away and leave me unprotected, the perfect bait to be seemingly ensnared in their trap. The thought of it made me want to throw up, the fear clawing through me, seeking escape. 

I hadn’t been entirely honest with Bucky. Rumlow would up the price — I hadn’t lied about that, but he would absolutely punish me. He would just make sure that any punishment he inflicted wouldn’t leave any marks or permanent damage. 

Bucky couldn’t know that though, and I figured even Sam would protest. 

But I had done it all before. Reliving it would be a small price to pay to be finally free of them. Permanently free of them.

*~*

Bucky and I sat side by side on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between us, as we watched The Aristocats. 

“I get that this guy is basically evil, but what would cats do with all that money anyway?” Bucky tossed another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Start a home for wayward cats?” I chuckled, plucking some popcorn from the bowl.

Bucky laughed, a sound I was coming to love. 

“Catnip for All,” Bucky suggested.

“Start a newspaper to spread propaganda about dogs.” I munched on another handful of popcorn. “Oo, or start a ring of underground cat fights.”

“So they get a little bit of money and suddenly go bad?” Bucky leaned over to grab his beer from the coffee table, one eyebrow raised in my direction.

“Hey, man, money is the root of all evil,” I quipped. 

He downed the rest of his beer. “Ain’t that the damn truth.” 

We sat in silence for a few minutes just watching Edgar chasing the cats through a field, both of us munching on popcorn.

Bucky cleared his throat after several minutes, saying my name in a quiet question.

“Yeah?” I answered, my attention pulled from the screen.

“Are you certain that you’ll be okay?” He asked. I must have had an annoyed look on my face because he rushed to clarify. “I’m not trying to talk you out of the plan. I just…” He exhaled a worried sigh. “I don’t want you to get hurt anymore.”

My heart skipped a little at his concern. For a brief, very silly, moment, I wondered if this meant he had feelings for me, but I shook those thoughts away. That would never be true. 

Instead I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll be okay. You’ll swoop in and save the day before anything really bad happens.”

He narrowed his eyes at me and my smile wavered. “You do know that with my training that I’m likely able to tell if you’re lying.”

Stupid super soldiers and their experience and knowledge. 

I tried to keep looking Bucky in the face but ultimately gave into my instinct and gazed at the popcorn. “I can’t guarantee I won’t get hurt. I know you know that.”

“I don’t expect you to make that guarantee. But I do think there’s more than you’re letting on.” 

Goddamn super soldiers.

I avoided nibbling on my bottom lip, recognizing that he had started to notice that. “I’m not hiding anything.”

I heard him sigh. “I know you’re going through with the plan regardless. I’m not really certain where I was going with this. Maybe so you’ll know that… I’m here? You don’t… you don’t need to struggle with it alone.”

I blinked back tears and met his gaze once more, debating whether I should tell him the full truth. But did I want to hurt him more? 

“Thank you, Bucky. …No matter what happens, I’m gonna be okay.” 

The bowl of popcorn sat between us on the couch, but now he lifted it up and slid over so his leg pressed up against mine, the bowl now in his lap.

“Is this okay?” 

I tried to ignore the sudden jolt of arousal and nodded. “Yeah. This is fine.”

He shifted the bowl so one half was on his leg, the other on mine. “Okay.”

I found I was grateful that I had watched The Aristocats before as I suddenly had very little attention span beyond the knowledge that Bucky’s body was right against mine. Every muscle shift, every adjustment, felt like it had been my own. 

The movie ended and neither of us moved for a long moment, the popcorn bowl long ago emptied and abandoned on the coffee table. 

I needed to get up and go to bed. It was late and tomorrow I had one final excursion before Bucky would step back and allow me to be taken. But I had no desire to leave his side partly because of our current closeness and partly because as my temporary return to Rumlow neared, I had increasingly more nightmares. Even after catching up on sleep after I passed out at the gym, I was still struggling.

Bucky cleared his throat. “We should get some sleep.”

“Yeah.” 

There was more awkward silence.

“Um, Bucky?” I shouldn’t ask this. It was unfair to him to put him in such a position. Especially given my feelings for him and his non-existent feelings for me. God, I hated myself. “Nevermind.”

I stood abruptly from the couch and grabbed the trash from the coffee table, but as I turned to go to throw it all away, a hand gently grasped my arm.

“What do you need?” 

I stood, the hand holding the empty beer bottle and empty soda bottle arching behind me as Bucky didn’t let go, holding me for an answer.

I gave in and pivoted back towards him. “I, uh, have been struggling… to sleep? But I don’t want to bother you with it; I’ll be ok—“

He cut me off though not unkindly. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

Relief flooded through me and I instantly felt lighter. “Would that… be okay?”

“I don’t mind. Like I said, you don’t need to struggle by yourself.” 

I met his eyes with mine, and we hung there, Bucky’s hand still clasped around my arm, warm and comforting. 

A horn honked just outside the building and we both startled, his hand dropping away. I found the cool air against my skin disappointing. 

We readied for bed quickly in awkward silence, nearly running into each other as I exited the bathroom and he entered. I changed into my pajamas — a baggy tank top and PJ shorts — while Bucky was in the bathroom, and then I crawled into the bed, hesitating as I realized I didn’t know what side he would want to sleep on. 

My thoughts disintegrated as Bucky entered the bedroom in sweatpants and a tight undershirt, the scars on his arm just visible beyond the edge of the short sleeve. But rather than focusing on his scars, I couldn’t get past his build. My mind immediately imagined all the things he could use his muscles for, the ways he could hold me, the ways he could use those fingers…

His voice interrupted the gutter I was digging myself into. 

“Is this okay?” He gestured to his clothes. “I generally just wear boxers to bed and nothing else, but I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to put on extra clothes for me. I’m okay. I want you to be comfortable too,” I protested. I covered my arms over my chest, suddenly quite aware of my heavy, braless breasts and my nipples which had hardened into sharp points.

“I’ll be alright. I’ve slept in a lot worse.” Bucky crossed the room to the bed.

“That doesn’t mean you should have to sleep in something you don’t like. Why not just take off one of the two things?” I suggested.

He seemed to consider this and nodded, pulling his shirt over his head. 

At the sight of his bare chest, I almost let out a small moan of appreciation, but managed to withhold myself. He slipped into the bed and turned out the lamp next to him.

Both of us lay there, the only sounds coming from the street below. I flipped from my back to my side facing away from him, wrapping the sheet around me.

Bucky yanked on the sheet lightly. “Stop hogging the covers.” 

I scoffed. “I’m not hogging the covers. They’re barely covering me.”

The sheet flew off of me suddenly, a blast of cool air hitting my legs. I twisted to face Bucky. “Excuse you.”

“Excuse me for what?” His voice was pure innocence; I almost expected a tiny angel to pop up on his shoulder and give me a matching look.

“I would like my half of the sheets back, please.” I fully turned over to face him.

“You have a very skewed idea of what ‘half’ is, doll.”

“Says the person who is cocooned in an entire queen-sized sheet!” I sat up and gestured to the covers. “You’re like a damn caterpillar over here.”

He smirked up at me from his back. “Think I’ll be a beautiful butterfly?”

“Fuck you, gimme my sheet!” I yelled, laughing all the while.

Bucky stretched a bit, signaling he was about to turn to his side. “Ain’t your sheet, sweetheart.”

As he turned, I made my move, grasping the sheet and yanking as hard as I could. 

I managed to grab only a small corner before Bucky reacted, pulling so hard that I lost my balance and toppled over. I landed squarely over his chest, which was only partially covered after our game of tug-of-war. 

Both of us froze. My thin tank top provided little coverage as my breasts pressed against him, my nipples still hard against his taut muscles. It took me several seconds before my brain caught up and I struggled to find enough leverage to safely extricate myself.

I settled back on my side of the bed sans sheet, my face burning. Bucky wordlessly tossed my half of the sheet back. 

“Night,” he muttered.

“Night.” I lay once again facing away from him, but this time I was humiliatingly aware of wetness between my legs. 

*~*

Sometime later, I woke disoriented. Bucky was moaning in his sleep and it seemed like he was in pain. I debated whether to wake him. His moan shifted to a low growl and he thrashed about.

“Bucky,” I said tentatively. 

He continued, so I said his name louder and sat up, laying a hand on his arm.

“Get off me,” he snarled, snapping away from me. 

“Bucky! Wake up,” I pleaded, this time shaking him a little.

His hand shot up and wrenched my arm off of him. I cried out at the pain as he twisted me down to the bed with a bruising grip. “Bucky! It hurts! Wake up!” My eyes watered at the pain and I began to be afraid that he would break my arm.

But Bucky’s eyes popped open and his hand fell away, a look of horror on his face. He backed away so quickly he practically fell out of the bed, only stopping when he was several steps towards the living room.

“I am so sorry,” he croaked. 

I massaged my arm gently. “I’m okay. It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not.” His voice was raspy and full of anger and sadness. “It’s not alright. I could have broken your arm. And what if I had grabbed your throat instead?” 

“Bucky, you woke up. That’s all that matters.” 

He shook his head and backed away, grabbing his shirt and a jacket. 

“Where are you going?” I asked, watching him get hastily dressed.

“I don’t know. I’ll be back soon. Just… just stay here.” He grabbed his shoes and pulled them on without socks. 

“Bucky, stop. It’s okay. Let’s just talk.” I followed him into the living room. 

He spun around and burst out, “I’m not safe. I know you think I am, but I’m not. I’m a killer. I will do this job and make sure you’re safe, but you shouldn’t want to be friends with me. I’ll ask Sam to help you find a place. But here, with me? It’s not… you’re just going to get hurt.”

And then he left. And I cried on the couch until I fell asleep. 

Chapter Text

Bucky’s perspective, Beginning at his dream.

He pressed her against the wall of the gym, hands held above her head.

“Bucky,” she breathed, the lust evident in her voice. 

“Hm?” He kissed down her neck, sucking tiny marks to lay his claim. 

“Don’t tease me,” she whined. 

“That’s part of the fun, doll.” He smirked and dipped his head to her breast, pulling a nipple into his mouth to lick and suck. Her moan sent a jolt directly to his hard cock. 

Bucky abandoned her breast, chuckling at the whine of protest she made, and took the time to run his hands down her naked body, relishing the feel of her soft skin and deep curves. 

But soundlessly, she was wrenched away from him and he stood helplessly as he watched her dragged away by a faceless man. He couldn’t hear her, but he could see her screaming, calling for him as tears streamed down her face. 

Bucky ran after her but Rumlow was there, his strength mindboggling as he restrained Bucky.

“Get off me!” Bucky yelled. 

He saw her mouth move and heard her then, “Bucky. Wake up.” 

What? What did that mean?

Rumlow loosened his grip suddenly, so Bucky reached up and grabbed his arm, wrenching it around. 

“Bucky! It hurts! Wake up!” 

His body was aware of a shift and he looked down to see that he wasn’t twisting the arm of Rumlow, it was her arm.

He wanted to throw up. Bucky could only think of getting away, stumbling from the bed.

She looked haunted, trying to convince him she was okay. 

But she was rubbing her arm. Her arm, where he had squeezed. She would have a bruise. He had bruised her.

Bucky wasn’t entirely certain what he said. He hurried through getting dressed, and he had some memory of telling her he wasn’t safe. 

And then he was in the stairwell of his building, fleeing as fast as he could. 

*~*

Bucky roamed the streets until the sun crested behind the buildings on the city skyline. He couldn’t shake the image of him hurting her. Not that the first part of the dream hadn’t stuck with him… but it was the threat from Rumlow and his own accidental violence towards her that haunted him. 

By the time he arrived home, she was asleep on the couch, turning restlessly and whimpering in fear. 

Fuck. She was probably dreaming about him hurting her. 

Bucky crossed to the couch and crouched next to her head, calling her name and gently nudging her. 

Rather than wake up, she murmured in her sleep. “Please…do anything…you’re hurting…” 

The guilt grew stronger with each word. Once more, he nudged her, but this time with more fervor. She gasped awake, eyes wide with fear.

“It’s okay; you were dreaming,” he reassured.

She let out a stuttering breath, her eyes turning to his. “Where did you go?” Her tone was vaguely accusatory.

“Nowhere really. Just walked. I’m really sorry I hurt you. Is the bruise really bad?” He glanced towards her arm, wincing as he saw the black and purple marks on her skin.

“What? Oh, it’s fine.” She waved it away. “You shouldn’t have left. You aren’t a killer. None of what you said is true. We absolutely should be friends.”

Bucky stood and walked towards the kitchen, shaking his head. “I’m not safe.”

Behind him, he heard the telltale squeaks of the couch springs; he turned towards her just as she launched herself at him, her arms coming around him in a powerful hug. He froze for a second before returning the hug, his arms cradling her lightly.

Her voice was muffled against his chest. “You’re the safest person I know. I trust you to protect me. Please stop believing you’re a threat.”

Bucky closed his eyes, appreciating the feel of her tucked into his arms. After several moments, Bucky considered he should have stepped back from her but he remained, absorbing as much comfort as he could. 

Eventually she slipped out of his arms to look up at him, her eyes red and cheeks tearstained, and his immediate thought was that he hoped he never made her look like that ever again.

*~*

Every time she went on what she had started to call “excursions,” he grew increasingly anxious, recognizing that she would soon be back with Rumlow. They had decided that Bucky would remain behind in two days’ time, sitting in his apartment while she made it obvious where she was, all the while pretending she was being secretive. There were still a few self-defense moves she needed to work on before he felt even remotely comfortable with their plan.

Since they had agreed to her idea, he had changed his mind several times, nearly begging Sam to find a different way, one that wouldn’t endanger her yet again. But each time, Sam’s answer was the same: there was no other way. 

She had volunteered to make them lunch before she went out, so he was watching her from the corner of his eye, the way she was so adept in the kitchen. He admired especially how the tank top she wore was more low cut than anything else he had bought for her, and when she leaned over he saw hints of cleavage, just enough to entice him into imagining what she would look like sitting on top of him, breasts free and hanging for his enjoyment. 

The thought cascaded further and he found he had to distract himself with other random thoughts to keep from causing a problem she would absolutely notice. 

They sat together for lunch — grilled cheese with just the right amount of cheese and butter, perfectly crisp and crunchy while not being overdone — and chatted about mundane topics, nothing that hinted that within two days, she would be gone, once again trapped with a psychotic man and his lackeys. 

Bucky had never been one to be overly anxious. He knew that the current generations were more prone to anxiety, but whether because of his upbringing in a different time or because of his training and experiences, anxiety was fairly foreign to him. Sure, he had PTSD and sometimes flashed back to his time as the Winter Soldier, but he didn’t dread things to come. Either they would work out or they wouldn’t. 

But now he found himself silently panicking, focused on what would happen to her in the two weeks they would be apart. 

He had already decided that if it meant saving her, but failing the mission, that’s what he would do. She mattered more than Rumlow or his lackeys. Possibly even more than Hydra, he thought, which was a feeling with which he was still wrestling. If he had to, he would go with her into hiding. 

If she wanted that, anyway. Which she likely didn’t. 

In such a case, he would help her disappear where even he couldn’t find her. As much as that would hurt him, it was likely for the best.

Lunch passed in a blur, and too soon it was time to go out, to let Rumlow and his men hear word from their spies that she was in the city so that next time, she could purposely misstep, walk right into a web created just for her.

Bucky watched as she shopped for food in a small convenience store, picking up some overpriced fruit, a couple of sandwiches they would eat for lunch tomorrow, a box of cereal she would inevitably snack on at three in the afternoon, claiming it tasted better then and not at breakfast. The cashier put it all into a thin plastic bag while she paid with cash Bucky had given her and then she was out the door.

He kept pace with her from a block behind, his head bent just enough to hide his face. She turned into the small parking garage where he would meet her, following her closer and closer until she exited and was a full block away. 

He felt it as soon as he stepped foot into the car-filled lot. 

Something wasn’t right. 

He sped up his pace, seeking her out. Just as he spotted her, they came from shadows. Three of Rumlow’s men, all in masks, descended upon her. Instinctively he sped into a run, but halted almost just as suddenly, Sam’s voice in his head: if they see you, it’ll give away the plan.

Bucky hid, watching as she did an excellent job defending herself, kicking in just the right ways, dodging as quickly as she could. But it was three against one.

He moved again, but slower, creeping. She was looking for him as one man gagged her with a cloth, the other two holding her still. She found him almost immediately, her eyes swiveling to where he hid in the dark like she was drawn there. He edged forward, but she shook her head almost imperceptibly, and he froze. 

Bucky stared in horror as one of the men slapped her soundly across the face and called her a whore who was finally back in her place. When this was over, he was personally going to break that man’s hand. 

A van sped around the corner and the door slid open. Just before they shoved her into the back, she looked back to where Bucky stood, and he saw one tear slip down her cheek. 

The men followed her in quickly and the van disappeared from the garage leaving behind the plastic shopping bag, askew on the pavement.

Only then did Bucky speak, his voice echoing against the cement. “Fuck!”

*~*

On the way back to his apartment, Bucky called Sam. “They took her!”

“Wasn’t that the plan?”

“Not for another two days dammit! I wasn’t — she wasn’t ready!”

Bucky could practically hear Sam thinking about his slip, but thankfully he chose not to mention it.

“I don’t think we have much choice in that, Buck. She’ll be okay and she’ll get that name on the list and we’ll stop Rumlow.”

“And I’ll get her back,” Bucky finished.

“Yeah, Buck,” Sam agreed quietly. “You’ll get her back.”

*~*

That night, Bucky didn’t sleep, though he considered it. After all, would it matter if he traded one nightmare for another? 

Her clothes were folded neatly on top of his dresser. The library book she had been reading was upside down on his bed to mark where she left off. The ingredients for the dinner she had promised to make sat in the fridge untouched.

It was odd how empty he felt. Ever since Shuri had deprogrammed him, he had felt at least a little hollow, little filling him up inside, but when she was with him, those holes had begun to heal. 

Now he had to wait until he had her back. 

And even then she may not stay with him. 

And his heart hurt even more at that thought.

Chapter Text

My body ached from being tossed around by Rumlow’s men who took great pleasure in making my return as uncomfortable as possible, particularly as they had scanned me for tracking devices. I lost track of my time in the back of the van as I disassociated to try to cope with the dread that hummed through my bones.

I wasn’t fully aware of what was happening until Rumlow sauntered into the dark room where they’d brought me.

“Did you have fun on your adventure?” He mocked, walking up next to me, my hands still tied tightly behind my back and my jaw aching from the gag. 

I braced myself for what I knew was coming, but nothing happened. Instead, Rumlow merely smirked and brushed the back of his hand down my cheek. 

“Expecting me to hit you, darling?” He made a tsk sound. “I have so much better planned for you. Gentlemen?” Rumlow turned to the door where four men stood with lascivious grins. 

I’d known it was coming, but not this soon. I wished I could close my eyes and call out for Bucky, that I would open my eyes and find myself back in his bed waking from a nightmare. But I had volunteered for this. I had put myself here and there was no backing out. 

“Soon enough you’ll be somebody else’s problem, and Hydra will be all the richer for it. But until then, our boys need a toy.” His smile morphed into something much more sinister and for a second I almost laughed at how he appeared like a comic book villain. But then Mike appeared behind him with a large, unopened box of condoms.

”Hi, honey. Wouldn’t want to deliver our package with anything else on board, hm?” Mike handed the box to Rumlow who ripped it open. 

Rumlow tossed the box to one of the waiting men, giving them an order. “Feel free to remove her gag and ropes, and don’t feel like you need to keep her clothes intact. She won’t be needing them anymore. Just don’t damage the goods, hm?”

My stomach clenched in fear as Rumlow left the room and Mike and the others closed in on me. With a deep breath, I resorted back to my old habits, disappearing into my brain as much as I could as each piece of clothing was cut from my body.

*~*

The days began to blend together until I was no longer certain how long I had been there. I received two meager meals per day, less than usual; I wasn’t sure if that meant my intended owner had decided he wanted me thinner or if Rumlow just wanted to punish me a little more, not caring if I lost some more weight before my sale. After a breakfast of a small cup of juice and a muffin or piece of dry toast, I would be visited by Rumlow’s men who took turns using my body, often employing lube as the constant friction had left me so dry that it was uncomfortable even for them. Eventually, I received a dinner of some sort, usually something that looked like it was a cheap microwaveable meal along with a glass of water. Every so often, I was given a cookie in what Rumlow likely thought was humorous gesture.

The only covering I had for my body was a thin, rough blanket which I kept over me as much as possible while curled up on the stiff twin-sized bed.

With each day, my panic grew, however, as I had been unable to get hold of Mike’s laptop to add Bucky’s alias to the invite list. I estimated that it had been about a week when Rumlow reappeared, having been mostly absent since his initial “welcome,” and I determined I needed to find a way to get Mike to come see me.

“I suspect that in your time away, you have regained some of that spitfire attitude that we all loved so much. That’s good. Your new master will enjoy fucking that out of you.”

I bit my bottom lip and pulled the small blanket higher on my body to give him the idea I was nervous. While not unentirely true, I felt more determined and angry than I did scared. “And I see that you all are too terrified to have me in my old accommodations. Even my so-called former boyfriend is scared to see me.” 

Rumlow chuckled. “Never mistake intelligence for fear.”

”So I’m not even going to have the chance to curse his name one last time before I’m sold off like cattle?” 

He waved my concern away. “I’m sure Mike will want to use you one final time before then. You’ll have your chance.” 

My panic didn’t ease. I needed Mike’s ego and overconfidence. “Oh, please. Mike is a goddamn coward!” I shouted, aiming my words behind Rumlow at the door in hopes Mike was nearby and would hear. “He was so useless in keeping me captive that you all had to move me! We all know he’s inept!” 

Mike charged through the door and directly at me, slapping me across the face with a resonating clap. My head snapped back at the force and I found I was grateful at the pain as it kept me from smiling at my success. 

Rumlow rolled his eyes. “Don’t play her games.”

Mike seethed. “You think you’re so tough? You’re back here. Again. And you’re going to live the rest of your miserable life being a submissive little fuck toy to a sadistic bastard.” 

“Not unless you’re my personal guard because we both know I’d escape for the third time.” I smirked at him to provoke him further.

”Oh you think so?” He turned on his heel and vanished, reappearing with a few papers, his phone, and his laptop. “Let’s just see about that.”

Rumlow pursed his lips but didn’t argue. “Fine, but there are going to be three other guards outside this room.”

I didn’t answer; I didn’t care how many guards were out of the room. Once Mike disappeared for a while or fell asleep, I would be able to accomplish my job. If I could do that, then every moment of my abuse would pay off.

*~*

As expected, Mike left his laptop open on a small table he had some lower guard drag in. He spent most of the day with me, leaving only when I had visitors. But eventually, I had my chance. 

He announced he had to take a shit and left the room, closing the door and locking it behind him. I waited several seconds before I jumped into action, flinching upon standing, the pain between my legs radiating with each movement. 

It wasn’t difficult to find the invitation list — Mike wasn’t the strategic genius he pretended to be. I scrolled through the entries to add a new one: Sebastian Orlovschi. It had taken forever to remember how to spell it correctly, but he Bucky had insisted on it so he could use a Romanian accent and broken English in hopes some of the guards would get frustrated with him to catch them by surprise if needed.

I finished entering the data, saved it, and exited out as quickly as possible. 

By the time Mike was back, I was pretending to be asleep, blanket covering my nudity. It wasn’t until Mike crawled on top of me that I gave up my act.

*~*

A few days prior to the auction party, Rumlow barged into the room with little warning.

“Who is he!?” He demanded.

My heart stuttered but I tried to remain calm. “Who is who?”

“This guy!” He shoved his phone in front of my face. On the screen was a single picture of a man standing in the shadows outside a building I didn’t recognize. Even without a clear image, I knew it was Bucky. I would’ve known that build and stance anywhere. 

“I don’t even know where this is, so why would I know who this is?” I raised an eyebrow to challenge him. 

“He didn’t show up until you came home and now he’s been here three separate times.”

I blanched at the word home. This would never be home. I didn’t think anywhere Bucky wasn’t would ever be home again. 

“You have a whole lot of other people being held captive. Maybe he’s there for them?” I suggested sarcastically. “And you still haven’t even told me where this is.” 

He narrowed his eyes at me, assessing my lies before crouching down into my face and gripping my chin and cheeks tightly. He ignored the cry of pain I let out.

“If I find out you’re lying, I’ll take the financial hit necessary to beat you bloody myself.” He let go of me so quickly I fell forward, catching myself with my hands. “Get up and bend over that table.” 

I followed his gesture to the table where Mike’s laptop remained, still wide open. 

“Now!”

I jumped up at the sudden yell and took small steps toward the table, bending over as ordered, the lower half of me sticking out and vulnerable. 

I cried only after he finished with me and left.

Chapter Text

Bucky’s perspective

He knew it was a terrible idea to go the gala site. He knew it was dumb — she likely wouldn’t be there until the night of the so-called party. But it was the only place he knew to go. 

She haunted him; all he could do was imagine what was happening to her at each moment. What sort of abuse Rumlow was putting her through. 

He slept now for only two or three hours at a time, dreaming near constantly of her. Sometimes the dreams were soft and sweet; in a few she was lying in his arms in bed as he stroked her hair and they chatted about books and movies and anything else they thought of. But in others, in most, his mind played out the worst case scenarios, particularly what would happen to her if he failed. 

The party was that evening and he and Sam had gone over the plan several times. He would have in an earpiece while Sam and Torres would be waiting for their signal. Once Bucky saw her and felt he could get to her safely, Sam and Torres would join along with several agents. 

Bucky spent most of the day tense, going over the plan in his head. It had been decades since he had been this nervous before a mission. He readied himself in the rented tux over an hour earlier than was necessary and waited only a few minutes after the start of the event before venturing in. 

“Sam, I’m in the casino. Where to now?” Bucky skimmed his eyes across the crowded room.

“Wow you must have it bad if you’re asking me for help with reconnaissance,” Sam’s voice crackled through the earpiece.

“Just do it,” he growled. 

Sam chuckled but Bucky heard him send out redwing. 

It was another 20 minutes before a more serious Sam spoke into Bucky’s ear. “Alright, go towards the east side of the building. There’s a blackjack table there. Dealer is a squirrely-looking guy with a bad combover. Ask the dealer if Maurice is working.”

“Got it.”

The casino floor was crowded but easy to navigate as a broad man. He had specifically chosen to use the veil so he looked as frightening as usual — a scar on his forehead, a permanent scowl, deep set eyes. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t know what he looked like. He hadn’t gotten a chance to show her before her early capture. He hoped he would be able to come up with something that would safely let her know it was him.

The dealer was there just as Sam said and Bucky was easily taken through a back hallway to a dressed up guard standing outside the elevator.

“Name please?” 

Bucky deepened his voice and took on his Romanian accent. “Sebastian Orslovisch.” 

The guard keyed in a few letters, squinted at the screen, and then nodded, tapping the button to the elevator. “Enjoy your evening, sir.”

The elevator only went to one floor with a button that had no label. Bucky took in a deep breath as the doors slid open; he was going to need to be as calm as possible if this was as bad as he expected.

The room was large, but not so large that Bucky couldn’t clearly see across most of it. A narrow stage split much of the length of the space; standing in a silent row were more than a dozen women and a few men, all nude. Though they were mostly expressionless, Bucky could sense their fear and anguish. 

Despite the clear viewpoint, he saw no signs of her, which made him both relieved and nervous. There was a bar to his left, so he bought himself some time by getting a beer. As he took a sip, a man by the stage announced the next one up for auction, a petite blonde he called Ruby. A couple of men began calling out bids in the thousands as Bucky focused his attention on his drink to maintain his demeanor.

Another six women and a man were auctioned off as Bucky perched on a stool and sipped at his beer. A few of those who had bid successfully remained in the room with their winnings, a couple making them go down on them at their table, another fucking a brunette against a wall. Bucky fought from ripping the poor women from the rich bastards.

Just as he expected the next captive to be auctioned, the announcer grinned and shifted to something else. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat for you this evening. A sale of historic proportions!”

Bucky sat up straighter, his body tense.

“One of our girls, a regular troublemaker, has been permanently purchased by an honored client! Here, on this stage, she will be punished for recent transgressions, and the sale will be finalized as her new master will take possession of his new toy.”

Bucky restrained himself from growling in anger at the way they spoke of her. His eyes snapped over to a door in the corner which opened. Rumlow strolled out, that same smirk on his face, as he yanked on a chain behind him.

And then there she was. Her hands were cuffed in front of her, the other end of Rumlow’s chain attached to the cuffs. Unlike everyone else, she was not naked, but instead wore black lingerie: a one-piece thing that had several cut-outs, particularly around her breasts. Much of her breasts were uncovered except for the nipples, which had small lacy patches. 

Bucky focused on her face. She looked angry but he could tell it was masking her fear. Her eyes were skimming the room, attempting to pinpoint which man was Bucky in disguise.

Rumlow dragged her to an empty part of the stage and locked the chain around a pole stuck into the ground. Bucky narrowed his eyes as the man reached over and squeezed her breast roughly with a laugh. 

“She’s here,” he murmured to Sam.

“Okay, we will begin getting in position. Just say when.”

“Not until this client that’s trying to buy her arrives. I want his ass in prison.”

Sam replied, but Bucky didn’t hear him as Rumlow had taken the microphone. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all for being here this evening. I’m thrilled to see so many already enjoying their purchases!”

Bucky ignored the nausea that swirled in his stomach.

”In just a little bit, we’ll all get to enjoy this little whore’s punishment, but for right now, we will continue our auction! Remember that you are welcome to come to the stage and touch the merchandise to help you make your decisions, but no playing allowed until funds have been transferred.” He wagged his finger playfully as the crowd laughed. A few stood and ventured to the stage to begin pawing at the naked men and women.

She was still scanning the room for Bucky from where she was chained. 

“And as an added treat, this one’s buyer would love for you to inspect his purchase!”

Bucky’s breath caught. What did that mean? Clearly she didn’t know either, or at least hadn’t been expecting it, as her head shot over to Rumlow, eyes wide. 

“You can touch all you want, but leave no marks. Intercourse and oral sex are strictly forbidden. Please leave the lingerie on — its removal will be part of the show later this evening.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He needed this asshole to reveal himself, not stay hidden to watch from somewhere safe. But how long did he wait at her expense? 

As the auctions continued, men trickled over to her. A few merely ran their hands up and down her body, others spent several minutes massaging her ass and breasts. A few touched themselves while feeling her up.

Bucky watched her face closely. He suspected no one else in the room could read her as well as he could. While she looked calm and unperturbed, he could see hints that she was afraid and possibly angry or embarrassed. 

Without thinking it through, Bucky set down his long-empty beer bottle and was halfway across the room before he slowed his pace. What was he going to do? He couldn’t just yank her off the stage and run. And he couldn’t just stand there and talk to her.

Despite this, he continued on his path until he was next to a man who had either hand on her breasts, squeezing and kneading them hard enough that she was visibly suffering in pain, her face pinched at the onslaught.

Bucky sidled up next to him and spoke in his Romanian accent. “Is my turn.”

The man laughed at Bucky and removed a hand, only to slide it under the flimsy lace and grasp at her naked breast causing her to gasp. 

Bucky responded by leaning closer and growling. “I said my turn. I kill?” 

The hands dropped as the man looked up at Bucky with fear. 

“Mine,” Bucky growled. The man responded by practically tripping off the stage.

Her eyes flickered up to study his face as he dipped closer to her. 

“Hey, doll,” he whispered. He raised his voice to be heard, “Look at floor! Not at me!”

She looked at the ground and whispered back, “I knew it was you. I’d know that growl anywhere.”

Bucky saw Rumlow out of the corner of his eye watching him carefully. 

“I need to act like I’m here for the… entertainment. Is it okay if I…?” He mumbled towards the floor.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” 

There was something thin and unsteady about her voice that he can’t quite pinpoint, but it’s not that she’s scared. That he would be able to tell.

Vowing to work it out later, he reached for her, trailing his hands down her sides and back to lovingly grasp her ass. As he moved, he spoke quietly.

“Sam and Torres have agents ready to bust in, but I don’t know where this new so-called master of yours is. Where would he be?” He squeezed each ass cheek, focusing as best he could on the intel rather than on how good she felt in his hands. 

“No idea.” She muttered, her face still at the floor.

“I don’t want to subject you to this while we wait for him. I’m gonna signal them now.” Bucky shifted his grip but she made a noise to stop him.

“I’m okay; he’ll come out soon. Just… try not to watch, okay?”

He let his hands fall to his side, mumbling some agreement. Just as he went to leave the stage, Rumlow approached.

“I see you have been enjoying tonight’s game.” 

Bucky nodded, ignoring the fantasy he was having where he picked Rumlow up by the collar and began punching him over and over. 

“Good body. Very sexy,” said Bucky, playing up his character though deep down he knew he was speaking the truth.

“Excellent. Well, it is time to ramp up even more fun, hm?” Rumlow held his hand back behind him where one of his crew handed him something. “Perhaps we should begin to warm her up?” He held out a leather-covered paddle and picked up a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will continue our fun this evening. Our fat little whore here—“

Bucky saw her flinch a little at the description, or perhaps at whatever he was about to say. 

“—Absolutely just loves pain and submission. So let’s give her what she wants, hm?” Rumlow held the paddle out to Bucky. 

Several men nearby edged closer to the stage, so Bucky grabbed the paddle before any of the others could. 

“I try give her pain.” Bucky wanted to throw up at the notion, but noticed her face had flushed a bright pink. She glanced up at him briefly and met his eyes with hers. 

As he rounded her body, he muttered towards her, “I’m sorry.” 

She let out a murmur, but he couldn’t quite make out what she was trying to say. 

With measured gentleness, Bucky lifted the paddle and swung it down to connect with one ass cheek. It smacked soundly against the thin lingerie fabric.

“Come now, you can do better than that,” Rumlow chuckled. “Hit her like you mean it.”

Bucky refrained from saying what he was really thinking and instead aimed again, smacking the other cheek with the same ease. 

He was only thrown for a second when he heard a soft, almost imperceptible moan spill from her mouth. 

Rumlow looked torn, which had Bucky forget the moan for a second. It was clear Rumlow didn’t want to anger a potential client, but wanted to punish and humiliate her. 

He chuckled again, “With those muscles, I’m sure you can hit her harder.”

Bucky frowned at him. “I like soft taps.”

Rumlow returned the frown for only a second before his unsure smile took over. He opened his mouth to say something when there was a flurry of movement and sound. 

Her head shot up and she began to try to yank at the chains attached to her cuffs. An angry older man was stalking his way to the stage, a short whip in his hand. 

“Not like that, you useless moron! She needs to learn her place!”

Bucky hid his panic and instead looked to the ground, “Sam, now. Now!”

By the time he looked back up, the man was on the other side of her, his arm striking downward. The whip cracked across her back with a sickening thwack, and she arched away, crying out. 

He raised the whip again, but Bucky leapt forward and wrenched it from his hand, throwing it across the room. 

“Don’t interfere with this whore’s punishment!” Rumlow yelled.

“She’s not a whore, you pile of shit!” Bucky screamed back, dropping his accent.

Rumlow paled in front of him. “Y-you… it can’t…”

Bucky ripped the veil off, revealing his face. “You’re fucking done, Rumlow.” 

“Bucky!” 

He turned to find her would-be buyer had unlocked the chain from the post and was dragging her off the stage. She stumbled as she tried to pull away from him, but Bucky could see she was in pain as she did so.

“Leave her the fuck alone!” Bucky moved to chase after them, but chaos had taken over the room, captors and auction bidders alike running as agents poured into the room. Rumlow stepped in front of Bucky then, punching as hard as he could. Bucky responded by picking him up by the throat. “I will kill you myself for touching her, but I have more important things to do first.” 

He tossed Rumlow into a table and ran after her, to where she was being pulled through a door off the side of the room. 

“You’ll want to stop right there, Soldat.”

Bucky halted just inside the threshold. 

One guard was refastening her chains to a hook in the ceiling while two other guards had guns trained on her. The buyer stood next to her, an amused smile on his face. 

“Move any closer, and your pretty little bitch dies.”

Chapter Text

Reader’s perspective - beginning after she was chained in the auction

I scanned the room looking for Bucky’s build and hoping I hadn’t somehow fucked it up so he wasn’t on the list. 

Just as I thought I found him with a beer at the bar, Rumlow announced that the other bidders were welcome to come inspect me. 

How I didn’t want Bucky to witness this. I had been at least thankful I had on the lingerie — he wouldn’t be subjected to seeing my fat and out of shape body — but now he would see some of what happened to me. He would never be able to forget it. Bucky would look at me and see all of the men who had touched me, all of their hands on my skin.

Almost immediately, there were men coming up to “inspect me” as Rumlow had put it. I closed my eyes at first, trying to forget that Bucky was seeing all of this. 

It worked for a few minutes until a newcomer arrived and yanked at my nipple, twisting as hard as he could. My eyes flew opened and he laughed.

“That’s right. Keep your eyes open while I’m playing with you.” 

I stifled back a whimper as his movements remained painful, the squeezing and groping all too hard and bruising.

And then there he was.

“Is my turn.” 

Even with the accent and deeper voice, I knew it was Bucky.

The man merely laughed and slid one hand under my lingerie. I gasped as he used the new access to tweak my nipple almost flat.

Bucky leaned closer to the man. “I said my turn. I kill?”

My breasts flooded back with blood, relieved at the sudden release as the man fell away.

“Mine,” Bucky growled. If I hadn’t known it was him before, I would have after that. I ignored the butterflies in my stomach at the notion of Bucky calling me his.

I looked up at him and he leaned closer.

“Hey, doll.”

I almost smiled but kept myself from reacting; Bucky raised his voice to tell me to look at the floor and I was able to speak to him.

“I knew it was you. I’d know that growl anywhere.” 

Bucky whispered back, “I need to act like I’m here for the… entertainment. Is it okay if I…?”

After all the men who had touched me in the last year, after the ones who had touched me in public in the last 20 minutes, Bucky was the one who would make it hard for me to breathe. I stumbled to answer him.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

His hands caressed down my body, settling on my ass with gentle squeezes. I fought to pay attention as he spoke.

“Sam and Torres have agents ready to bust in, but I don’t know where this new so-called master of yours is. Where would he be?”

There were probably a slew of hidden observation rooms in the building, but I didn’t know for certain how many or where or even if they were in this room. “No idea.” 

“I don’t want to subject you to this while we wait for him. I’m gonna signal them now.” 

I made a quick noise of disagreement in hopes he would understand. I needed the master in prison too; I just needed to make it through. “I’m okay; he’ll come out soon. Just… try not to watch, okay?” 

I wasn’t entirely certain if I was trying to spare Bucky from seeing everything I would endure or if I was trying to spare myself the embarrassment of knowing he was watching and becoming more disgusted with me. 

His hands fell away and I clenched my teeth to keep from making a noise of disappointment. 

The feeling was short lived as Rumlow approached.

“I see you’ve been enjoying tonight’s game.”

Shit. What was he planning? Shit shit shit.

“Good body. Very sexy.” Bucky said in his Romanian accent.

The disappointment flooded back up knowing it was all an act. 

Rumlow’s grin brought me back to reality. “Excellent. Well, it is time to ramp up even more fun, hm? Perhaps we should begin to warm her up?” 

From behind him, Mike handed him a paddle and I knew exactly what he had in mind. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will continue our fun this evening. Our fat little whore here—“

I knew that after everything he had called me, I shouldn’t care about that, but now it was in front of Bucky. 

I didn’t hear what else he said, but just watched Rumlow hand Bucky the paddle. 

“I try give her pain,” Bucky said.

The image of Bucky holding a paddle with the intent on using it on me sent a thrill to my core and I flushed red at the sudden wetness in the lace panties. Without meaning to, I looked up at him as he walked behind me.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“Not as much as I am,” I murmured as quietly as I could. 

The first smack was light, but difficult to ignore as I knew it was Bucky behind me, holding the paddle. 

Rumlow was goading him, trying to get him to hit me harder, but he used the same strength for the second spank, and it was easy to feel the wetness growing. I accidentally let out the smallest moan, instantly clamping my mouth shut as soon as I realized it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Rumlow frown at Bucky. “With those muscles, I’m sure you can hit her harder.”

“I like soft taps.”

I watched Rumlow consider this and start to respond, when I heard His Voice. My eyes went right to him as he trudged towards the stage with a whip in his hand. I began pulling on the chain desperately, hoping it would give way.

“Not like that, you useless moron! She needs to learn her place!”

I heard Bucky say something but his voice was too muffled to understand.

And then Master was there and his whip was slapped across my back with instant fire, sending me arching upward and screaming out.

My mind pulled away as I braced for the whip’s sting again.

But it never came, and suddenly I was being pulled away by my chains, which had been undone from the stage pole.

Master was dragging me away from the stage, away from Bucky.

“Bucky!” I screamed, stumbling as I tried to pull away. The pain in my core from the abuse I’d suffered in the last two weeks felt even worse as I fought to be free.

People were running and screaming around me now, and for a second, rather than think about the fact that I was about to disappear with a sadistic man, I thought, now they can all be saved.

As soon as I crossed the threshold, Master slapped me hard across the face, sending me sprawling to the ground. I recovered and forced myself back to my feet, hoping the chains wouldn’t make defending myself too impossible.

Master laughed uproariously as I took a defensive stance and then nodded to the guards. One took hold of the chains and used them to throw me off my balance; within moments he had my arms stretched up over my head and was fastening the chain to a hook. 

“You’ll want to stop right there, Soldat.”

My eyes shot up to Bucky as Master mocked him. 

“Move any closer, and your pretty little bitch dies.”

“This isn’t going to end well for you,” Bucky warned.

“I think it’ll end perfectly. I run off with my prize, and now I don’t even have to pay Rumlow. Thank you for that.” Master dipped his head in sarcastic thanks.

“How did you manage to stay in Hydra’s good graces? I heard you turned on them all for a pardon.”

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“I got rid of all the ones who were necessary. But no one ever really leaves Hydra. You, of all people, should know that.” Master smirked at Bucky whose scowl deepened.

“Enough of your bullshit. Untie her and I’ll think about sparing your life.”

Master guffawed, “Why are you so interested in this little bitch, hm? Did her cunt please you too?”

Bucky remained silent, just staring. I shifted the tiniest bit, the chains rattling as my discomfort was harder to ignore.

Master crossed to me and slid a palm down the length of my front. “The fun we have had… Did you know, Soldat, that she screams louder than you? Of course, my fun with her is quite a bit different than the fun I had with you.” He tilted his head for a moment. “Though there are some similarities. Did you two swap scar stories? I have to say, I think I wfar more creative with her.” 

My eyes slid between Bucky and Master trying to piece together everything he was saying. 

Bucky stepped forward and the guards inched closer to me with their guns.

“Now, now, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Master shifted behind me, his arms wrapping around my front, hands dipping down to cup my privates. “Oh, such a good whore. Soldat, you should come feel how soaking wet she is. Perhaps if you’re a good boy, we can share her. She clearly has enjoyed tonight’s festivities.”

I flushed red and bowed my head to the floor as he gathered the juices that had leaked through the thin fabric when Bucky had been touching and spanking me. He flipped his hand to show Bucky his glistening fingers. 

Bucky simply said, “One last chance to let her go.”

Master laughed and cupped my throat with his hand, squeezing as I tried to wrestle away, hating the feeling of being choked. His fingers only tightened and I closed my eyes as tears began to fall.

And then suddenly, air flooded back into my lungs as shots rang out and the sounds of fighting erupted in the tiny room. It was difficult to see at first, black spots filling my vision, but when they cleared, Bucky and Sam stood panting with the three guards and Master all on the ground. The guards looked asleep, but Master… his body didn’t seem to be positioned in a way in which he could possibly be alive.

Bucky stepped over Master’s body and dashed to me. With a few tries, he broke my chains and my arms tumbled down, my body collapsing with them.

“Whoa, I got you.” Bucky caught me easily and lifted me back up. 

I stood on my own weight as quickly as I could so he wouldn’t have to touch me any longer than necessary, his warmth radiating through the lingerie. 

“It took you long enough,” Bucky snapped at Sam.

“‘Thank you so much for your help, Sam.’” Sam mimicked Bucky’s voice and then switched to his own, “‘Sure, Buck, anytime! My pleasure!’ I had a whole ass room to subdue, thank you very much.”

Bucky opened his mouth to retort but I interrupted.

“Bucky?” 

He leaned closer to me, ignoring Sam now. “Hey, are you okay? No, that’s a dumb question. Do you need me to carry you? Medical services are waiting.”

The last thing I wanted was Bucky carrying me after witnessing all that. I shook my head. “I’m okay.” 

Bucky’s look told me he didn’t believe me, but he nodded. “Let’s get those cuffs off and get you checked out.”

“Wait, where’s Rumlow?” 

“Dead. Many of his lackeys are too. That or in cuffs,” Sam answered.

“I want to see his body,” I insisted.

“Doll, I don’t know if that’s—“

“I want to see it.” I would never sleep again if I thought for a second he were still alive. 

Sam looked at Bucky who, in turn, nodded. We were led out of the room and into the aftermath of the chaos as agents and soldiers flooded the tiny room we left behind.

Just a few feet away was his body. Had it not been for the blood covering his head, he would’ve looked asleep. 

Even still, I kicked his ribs. No movement. I kicked him again, getting angrier with each moment as I kicked his lifeless body over and over, tears flowing freely. 

Then a blanket was wrapped around me with strong arms which gently pulled me away. 

“No! Let me- I need to make sure he’s dead!” I sobbed. “Let me make sure—“

“He’s dead, my love. He’s dead.” Bucky enveloped me in a hug, and I tucked into his chest, sobbing and shaking in the thin medical blanket.