Marvel Universe Imagines and One Shots Book Two

Golden widow - Part 2 - Bucky x Reader

(Y/n) sat on her bed, her eyes lingering on her hands. She had hurt her sister again. She had gone on instinct again. (Y/n) had been taught to be the best. She had been pushed, forced and tortured into being the best. There had been no other option. From the moment that she had been singled out, there had been nothing in her life but fighting and surviving. Kill or be killed. As the Golden Widow, there wasn't room for emotions. Feelings. Yet now it was as if her whole world had been turned upside down. Now it wasn't just fighting and surviving. Not just about killing. Now she had to work out what it was to be a woman. To be a person that had thoughts and feelings. Emotions. And all that was easier said than done. (Y/n) feeling it was easier to be a heartless assassin, than trying to deal with all the turmoil that was going on inside her. Especially when it came to the Soldier.

It was hard to reconcile the Soldier that she could remember, with what he was now. With Bucky. But that didn't mean that she thought any less of him. In truth, he was what she aspired to be like. He had managed to break the programming. To deal with the torture that he had been subjected to. And to somehow become a little bit of the man that he used to be. Yet unlike the Soldier, (Y/n) had had no real life before the Red Room. So, to find a life that had never really existed, was proving harder than she ever thought possible. (Y/n) having no idea how her sister had been able to fit in as easily as she did. But she had promised her twin that she would try. That she would stay with her.

(Y/n) had definitely improved. Natasha had told her so. The others had told her so. Stark even commenting that he no longer feared for his life every time that she walked into the room. But the biggest hurdle was still to come. And that was to tell the Soldier how she felt for him.

(Y/n) had confessed everything to her twin. Told Natasha of her feelings for Bucky. How she found herself smiling whenever he came into the room. How the mere mention of his name sent an exquisite tingle down her spine. How the subtle smell of his cologne, that hung in any room that he had been in, made the butterflies in her stomach burst into life. Natasha had seemed delighted by her confession. She had took her hands and told her that she should go and tell all that to Bucky. That the two had been through so much and deserved some happiness now. That they deserved love. But how could she tell Bucky? How could she confess feelings that she herself was still struggling to come to terms with? Still trying to understand.

When they had first met, they had both been assassins. Both been controlled. Made to do things that they didn't necessarily want to do. Yet the difference was that Bucky had not always been a bad guy. He had been a hero. He had served with Steve. Fought an enemy that threatened the world. But she, well she had been bad for as long as she could remember. She had never been a hero. Never done any good. She had killed the weak. The innocent. Anyone that she had been sent after, had fallen by the way. And up until S.H.I.E.L.D had been able to capture her. Up until they had started to break through all the years of programming, she had revelled in being feared. She had taken delight in her reputation. In each and everyone of her kills. So, how could Bucky see past that? Natasha had tried to tell her that Bucky probably thought the same things. That he probably felt the same way. That if they actually sat down and spoke, then they would be able to help one another deal with everything. Yet (Y/n) had never believed that, even though she wanted to.

Slowly getting to her feet, (Y/n) made her way over to the large mirror that hung on the wall, so that she could look at her form. She was sure that she hadn't changed in years. In fact, it was difficult to remember a time before she had been this age. Before she had looked this way. Most of the memories of the Red Room. Of the other girls, of her sister, had been banished from her mind. The horrors locked in an area of her brain, never to be let out. The ghosts too awful to contemplate.

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass filled the room. Shards of the mirror falling to the floor. Drops of crimson dripping from the Golden Widow's fist. (Y/n) fighting back the rage that was building up inside her. Fighting back the emptiness. The loneliness. The tears that now threatened to fall. Tears that she had never allowed to fall.

Slowly she crouched down and picked up a large shard. The Golden Widow's eyes focusing on her face, as she smeared a droplet of blood across it. How much longer was she going to punish herself for things that had been beyond her control? It was true that outside forces were no longer torturing her, yet she was continuing to torture herself, for them. And she wasn't going to do it anymore. Her sister wanted her to be happy. Clint had told her that she deserved to be happy. Even Stark, who had been her biggest doubter at first, had told her to stop punishing herself. So, if everyone else thought that she should be happy, then why couldn't she? And she knew that the only person that she could be happy with was the soldier. Was Bucky.

Getting to her feet, (Y/n) rushed into the bathroom. If she was finally going to confess how she felt, she wasn't going to do it like this. She wasn't going to go and find Bucky, while she looked like this. If she was going to do this, then she was going to do it right. And even if the soldier didn't feel the same, at least then she would know. At least then, she might be able to find this elusive thing called happiness with someone else. In something else. The bathroom filling with steam, as the Golden Widow turned on the shower. Hoping that she could find the right words, the right emotions to prove that she could be the right girl for the old soldier.