Avengers x Y/n One shots (finished)

dark!Wanda x Reader ft.Bucky

A/n Hi, this is my first dark fic, so don't be too mean please. Let me know if I missed any triggers. 

Tw// Kidnapping, death, gore, gaslighting, suicidal thoughts, Stockholm syndrome

Hunching your shoulders, you joined the crowd of people getting off the ship. Drops of rain stung your head and neck. Your hands, wrapped in insubstantial gloves, were clammy and wet with rain. Reaching the quay, you looked around eagerly, searching for any sign of James. It had been nearly two weeks since you'd spoken to a soul, having kept almost entirely to yourself on board the ship. You couldn't wait to have your brother to talk to again.

He wasn't there. The piles of luggage, large crates, boxes, and even piles of fruit lined the dock. People ran past you, screaming in French and trying to cram into the train station to get out of the rain. You tried your best to keep out of the way as you searched. James was nowhere to be seen.

"Miss y/l/n," the voice was deep and heavy with accent. The man moved to stand in front of you. He was tall, too tall for the top hat that sat elegantly on his head, rainwater collected in its brim. His large black coat swished at his feet. His face was oddly rectangular, he almost didn't look human when you combined that with his piercing eyes. They seemed to shine silver. You fought the urge to cringe away from him. He knew your name, maybe he knew your brother as well.

"Yes?" you answer tentatively.

"Your brother sent me. Come with me."

"Where is he?" You asked, running to keep up with the man. He didn't answer. Just wound through the crowd with purposeful speed. He turned suddenly around a large pile of boxes, then crashed to a halt in front of a large black car.

The door opened and a woman stepped out. Her reddish-brown hair framed her face.

"Y/n Y/l/n?" She asked, although she already knew the answer.

You nodded. The tall man helped the woman out of the car with the same speed and precision he had when he lead you to her. She popped an umbrella and handed it to the man, then turned to you.

"What a delight to make your acquaintance at last. I'm Wanda, your brother sent me to accompany you to London. It's quite a long ride to make alone."

You clutched your damp coat tighter around yourself.

"I don't understand. Where's Bucky, erm James? Why didn't he come himself?" Wanda smiled at you kindly,

"He got caught up at work, but he sent a note ahead for you." Wanda held out a piece of folded paper, already damp from the rain. You took it and scanned it. It was his handwriting, no doubt about it. He apologized for not being able to be there himself but gave his highest regards to Wanda, stating he trusted her to bring you to his house in London.

You swallowed hard and slipped the note into your pocket, turning to the older woman.

"Okay. Shall we get the porter to fetch my bag?"

"It's all taken care of, dove." She snapped her fingers at the tall man, who swung himself into the driver's seat.

"Come now, let's get you out of the rain." Wanda helped you into the car, then gracefully got in behind you.

"Settle in, Y/n, we've got a long ride ahead of us."

SIX WEEKS LATER

"Wanda would like to see you in her chambers Miss y/l/n." You set down the book you had been reading on the bedside table and turned, seeing the servant girl standing in the door, just as she did every day, always delivering the same message. In a moment you would ask her to wait in the corridor, and she would leave the room. Ten minutes later she'd return and say the same thing again. If you didn't come obediently after that, the maid would grab you and drag you, kicking and screaming, down the stairs to the hot, stinking room where Wanda waited.

It had happened every day of the first week that you had been at the dark house, as you had come to call the place you were prisoner until eventually, you had realized that the screaming and kicking didn't do much good. It just wasted your energy. Energy that was probably better saved for other things.

"One moment," you said. The maid bobbed an awkward curtsy and went out of the room, shutting the door behind her. You rose to your feet, glancing around the small room that had been your prison cell for the last six weeks. It was small with cream coloured walls and it was sparsely decorated. A small nightstand with a lamp, the narrow brass bed where you slept, the windowsill where you kept your books- Wanda had realized you liked to read and began rewarding you with your favourites- and card table covered by a lace white cloth where you ate your meals. It had a small bathroom with only a toilet and a sink adorned with a small mirror.

You smoothed down your hair. Wanda preferred you not to look messy, but besides that, she seemed to enjoy your appearance no matter what you did, lucky for you since the sight of your reflection made you wince. There was the pale oval of your face dominated by hollow eyes—a shadowed face without colour in its cheeks or hope in its expression. You wore the unflattering black schoolmarmish dress that Wanda had given you once you'd arrived; your trunk had never followed you, despite her promises, and this was now the only piece of clothing you owned. You looked away quickly.

Your reflection hadn't always made you wince. James, or Bucky as you had called him when you were little, had always been the pretty sibling. He had naturally been accepted as the one who'd inherited your mother's good looks, but you'd never minded. You were perfectly content with your smooth hair and steady eyes. You may not have been beautiful in your own eyes, but the boarding school nuns had said if a woman carried herself correctly, she would always look regal.

You didn't look regal now though. You looked dirty and scared, like a human scarecrow. You wondered if Bucky would even recognize you if he saw you now.

At that thought, your heart seemed to shrink inside your chest. Bucky. He was the one you were doing this for, but sometimes you missed him so much it felt like you were swallowing broken glass. Without him, you were completely alone in the world. There was no one at all for you. No one in the world cared whether you lived or died. Sometimes the horror of that thought threatened to overwhelm you and plunge you down into a bottomless darkness from which there would be no return. If no one in the entire world cared about you, did you really exist at all?

The click of the lock cut off your thoughts abruptly, but instead of the servant girl, Wanda walked in.

"Printessa," the nickname was something you had grown used to. Wanda often spoke to you in Russian even though you barely understood it.

"Printessa," she clucked again, demanding your attention. You looked up at her, trying to hide the tears brimming in your eyes. She took your face in her hands and wiped away a tear.

"My dear sweet girl. Your brother may have abandoned you, but that does not mean you are alone."

"H-he didn't abandon me," you managed to choke. Wanda shook her head at you sadly,

"Oh, but he did. He wanted to sell you to the highest bidder." You stepped away from Wanda, shaking your head.

"No. No no no, you're lying." She gave you a sympathetic smile,

"I'm sorry little dove." You fell to your knees. What was left for you in the world? What was the point of continuing to live if there was no one to live for? Wanda knelt next to you.

"You aren't alone, Printessa." She pulled you to her and you let her, melting into her chest. She kissed your forehead.

"Bu-but Bucky..." you sobbed into her shoulder.

"He doesn't deserve you." It felt as though you had been stabbed. A sharp knife of betrayal placed by your brother.

"I-it hurts, Wanda. It hurts so much." She stroked your hair with her hand.

"Don't worry, Printessa. I'll make it better. I promise, no one will ever hurt you again."

Wanda was right too. No one would ever find you now that you had succumbed. Now that you were hers. All she had to do now was get you out of that house, away from the rotting corpses of everyone you had known and the forever she had planned could begin.