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Chapter Five: Tumultuous Teachings

The Missing Title

Helmut Zemo x Reader

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Summary: Circling in on Karli's position, she's in your sights. With unexpected guests and differing morals, surely the plan will go accordingly... right? All it takes is a little Super Soldier Serum and a phone for the world to blow up.

Words: 15.5k

Warnings: Dark Humor, Sexual Content, Violence, Guns, Manipulation

Mentions of: Politics, Death, Extremist Beliefs, Lying,

A/N: Ahhh, idk why I've fallen back in love with this, but I'm just... so invested in trying to get more of the story out right now! I missed all of their banter and can't wait to actually get to my continuation of the story past the actual plot of the episodes.

Following Zemo down the cobblestone streets, you can't help but take in your surroundings. Truthfully, you're not well traveled, and while it's always been something you'd been interested in, you'd never gotten the chance. Not until now, you suppose. Two continents down in a matter of seventy-two hours certainly is something to be said.

Lips parted in awe, the colorful buildings and their accompanying trim captivate you. There's so much intricacy in the sculptures and patterns adorning the architecture; it's clear that this city is old, its buildings and roads give a glimpse into the past, hints of another time seeping through. It could, in part, be due to the fact that Riga is the capital of Latvia, upon the search you did before arriving, however it's possible the theme also extends beyond the city. That part you're unsure of.

"I heard what became of Sokovia," Zemo breaks the silence. "Cannibalized by its neighbors before the land was even cleared of rubble, erased from the map. I don't suppose any of you bothered visiting the memorial?" Just as you open your mouth to speak, he's continuing, not having given anyone a chance to answer. "Of course not. Why would you?"

"I saw it," you add quietly, "well- the one in New York. I haven't ever been here before... never even been to Europe," you decidedly ramble, the last part quiet as you talk more to yourself than them, seeing as they aren't really listening. "Well, not until now, I guess."

"We are here," Zemo announces, effectively icing you out. It's clear he doesn't wish to continue on the topic he'd brought up. Though, the look that'd crossed his features for a split second upon your confession was one that seemed to give him pause. Heading for the ornately designed metal gate, it isn't until someone else speaks up that your group slows to a stop.

"I'm gonna go on a walk," Bucky states. Turning to look at him, your eyebrows raise slightly in surprise.

"You good?" Sam asks.

"Yeah," Bucky assures you all. You're tempted to ask if he wants company, but, knowing how quiet he can be, he seems more like the introspective type. Probably would prefer solitude, you jecture. "I'll see you guys in a bit."

"Okay," you acknowledge, "Be safe," you call out after him as he's already a few paces away.

"Yep!" Is all the Soldier responds with before you follow the men up the stairs. Met with an elaborate metal gate artistically crafted with points and spirals, you admire the stained glass windows on the apartment's door while Zemo unlocks it.

"Welcome," the Baron states as he opens the door and follows you in. Stunned by the foyer, you take a few steps inside, gogging at your surroundings. There's a bowl of apples on the table. You begin to slip off your shoes as the men continue settling in. "I am going to freshen up if you'll excuse me. Please, make yourselves at home."

The colorfully tiled floor captures your eyes as the stone's cool temperature seeps through your socks. "Thanks," you respond halfheartedly, still taking in all the tiny details hidden in every surface of the apartment. Opting for the expansive multi-colored couch, you plop down onto it as you let yourself relax for five minutes.

"Why don't you take a nap?" Sam suggests from where he stands in the kitchen, hand atop the counter he currently rounds.

"I'm thinking about it," you respond. Though, there might be something to the Avenger's predictive skills considering as soon as you'd sat down the tired weight of your body and mind started to drag you under.

"I meant, like, in a bed somewhere," Sam explains with a chuckle.

------------

The sound of a door shutting causes your body to suddenly lurch upright as you look for its source. Quickly finding the Bionic Staring Machine--as Sharon so lovingly put it--striding into the living space of the apartment, the slam of the door must've been him getting back.

"Well, the Wakandans are here," Bucky states casually as he walks into the room. "They want Zemo."

"What?! When? You just saw them now?" Interrupting Bucky, you feel like this is a lot bigger of a deal then he's letting on. After all, if they're here- where are they? Because they're not with him.

"-Bought us some more time." The man stops in the middle of the room and turns to you, giving you a pointed stare. "Yes, just now." You're left wondering if he got that look from Sam, or Sam picked that up from Bucky.

"Were you followed?" Sam questions, turning toward Bucky in his seat at the counter.

"No," Bucky answers.

"How do you know for sure?" You prod.

"How can you be so sure?" Zemo asks at the same time, emerging from the bathroom. This elicits a look from him as the two of you try and gauge the other, unsure if you're shocked that you had the same line of thinking, or whether you're more alike than you'd previously thought. Perhaps it's just a coincidence! After all, it's a pretty logical question, right?

"Because I know when I'm being followed. Alright?" Bucky retorts without hesitation, an annoyance obvious in his tone. At least you're almost certain that's what it is... even if the soldier sounds vexed half the time, in your opinion.

"It was sweet of you to defend me at least," Zemo comments. It's only then that you notice he's only clad in a bathrobe as he pats his face.

An aroma of something sweet like citrus, yet spicy like a mint or menthol emanates from his direction, and you can only assume it's aftershave considering his hair is also wet. Hadn't he said something about freshening up? Since when does that include actually bathing? Sleep still has it claws curled around the edges of your mind as you scoot to the edge of the couch.

"Hey, you shut it-" Sam barks, "No one's defending you. You killed Nagel." There's something uncouth about the way a quiet giggle tumbles past your lips.

"Do we really have to-" Zemo pauses, his attention turning to you with a skeptic look.

"Why are you laughing? How, exactly, is this funny?" Sam turns his frustration on you. Hands immediately coming up in defense, you attempt to hold back the smile tugging at your lips.

"It's not," you assure him, "it's not, I just... why would you say that?" You laugh again, looking toward Zemo with furrowed brows. This man is... puzzling, to say the least.

"Because it was nice of him to advocate on my behalf," the Baron shrugs, seemingly nonplussed. Yet, the faint smirk tugging at his lip tells you otherwise. "Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened?" Zemo finishes his original thought.

"You're clearly in need of some good sleep. Why don't you head to bed?" Sam urges, before turning on the redhead. "There's nothing to litigate! You straight shot the man."

"I mean... kind of hard to say you didn't when we all witnessed it," you point out with a shrug of your own. Standing, you approach the kitchen counter in an attempt to see what's so interesting on Bucky's phone. The man hasn't contributed once since leaving you all with that bombshell, distracted by the piece of technology in his gloved hands.

"Sam," Bucky calls. Of course, just when you think to engage him, he's refocused on your friend, ultimately ignoring you. Well, and Zemo, if that means anything.

"What?" The Avenger prods, his undivided attention turning toward the soldier as you all gather around the counter.

"Karli bombed a GRC Supply Depot," Bucky states monotonously.

"What?" Sam asks surprised, "What's the damage?"

"Eleven injured, three dead," the Soldier reads off his phone. "They have a list of demands and are promising more attacks if those demands aren't met in full."

"She's getting worse," Zemo states as if it were fact.

"What're the demands?" You inquire, leaning onto your forearms that rest atop the chilly black granite countertop. Sam's sigh fills the silence as Bucky's eyes scan over the webpage, presumably looking for the information you'd asked for.

"I have the will to complete this mission," Zemo speaks up. "Do the three of you?" Everyone's attention shifts upon this question. All eyes on the Baron. You're left speechless as your minds churn through the question and possible different answers and outcomes.

"She's just a kid," Sam points out.

"You're seeing something in her that isn't there," Zemo rebuttals, "You're clouded by it. She's a Supremacist. The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It's that warped aspiration that led to Nazis, to Ultron, to the Avengers."

You can see where he's coming from. Not just because of his family, but because of the articles that'd come out time and time again. The posts people would write from foreign countries detailing the way that the Avengers coming in to stop whatever malevolent threat they'd been sent in to defeat only seemed to cause more damage. The fights might've caused more destruction than if they hadn't shown up at all. Now, whether that was true or not was up for debate, but the fact that many people suffered due to collateral damage is entirely real.

It'd been swept under the rug for as long as it could, but things certainly changed after Zemo took action, and after the Blip. People don't have the same politically dutiful leashes they'd once had on their opinions.

"Hey, those are our friends you're talking about," Sam argues.

"The Avengers, not the Nazis," Bucky corrects.

"Thanks for clarifying," you joke. It wasn't really necessary, as you'd figured who they were inferring, but nevertheless, Bucky's need to clarify was amusing. "But how can you be sure? That she's not still a child?" You play devil's advocate.

"So, Karli is radicalized, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her," Sam thinks aloud.

"And if there's not?" You question him, "I'm not saying we don't try it first, but, if worse comes to worst?"

"The desire to become a Superhuman cannot be separated from Supremacist ideals," Zemo answers your question. "Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her," he pauses, "or she kills you."

"Maybe you're wrong, Zemo. The serum never corrupted Steve," Bucky contends, arms crossed as he now leans against the wall directly across the counter from the Baron.

"That's a good point," you mutter under your breath as you're intent to hear what the Baron comes up with in response.

"Touché," Zemo agrees, "but there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?" Wagging his fingers for emphasis, you can't help but be distracted by the fact that it's poked through the hole in a shortbread-looking cookie. Or, as you'd guess they're called here: biscuits. The two circle each other, Zemo rounding the counter until he's across from you opening the cabinets while Bucky rounded the other way, now somewhere behind you.

"Well, maybe we should give him to the Wakandans right now," Bucky posits.

"And you'll give up your tour guide?" Oof, Zemo was quick with the comeback on that one, you'll give it to him.

"Yes," Bucky answers with zero hesitation.

"So you're planning on killing her then?" You question Zemo, who has his back turned to you as he rifles through the cabinet he's just opened.

"From my understanding-" Sam begins to speak.

"It's the only way to stop her. You'd let her kill you first?" He tosses the hypothetical situation back on you. Without so much as a glance in your direction, clearly unphased by the content of your conversation.

"Donya is like a pillar of the community, right?" Sam continues his line of thought, unbothered by your little dissection of ideology with Zemo.

An uncomfortable chuckle escapes you. "No? I mean..." Unable to truly come up with a satisfactory response, you switch gears and turn, listening to Sam instead.

"Exactly," Zemo responds with an air of triumph, a quiet and amused scoff leaving his lips.

"So when I was a kid, my TT passed away," Sam explains.

"Your TT?" Bucky questions, head lolled back as he listens from the couch now. A pained expression crosses his features as he finally rights his head and looks back at Sam.

"Yeah," Sam delights, "my TT, yeah."

"Who is your TT?" Bucky specifies.

"Yeah, who is...?" You quietly probe, a little lost despite not having missed anything.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Fine," he concedes. You know he's not really annoyed, but it'd be easier if he didn't have to explain. "When I was a kid, my Aunt passed away. And, the entire neighborhood got together for a ceremony. It was like a week long," he explains, a far off look overtaking his features as he remembers. "Maybe they're doing the same thing for Donya."

"Worth a shot," Bucky encourages.

"Your TT would be proud of you," Zemo comments, though the way he'd said it definitely sounded more akin to something vulgar than what he'd intended. This elicits another smile you try to contain as you shake your head. Maybe he's just trying to get a reaction out of them, you ponder.

Finally taking a moment to let your eyes wander, you can't help but ogle the Baron a bit. From where you're standing you can only barely see that beneath the navy robe he's got on a pair of white silken pants, which... wow. You don't think you've ever even seen silk pants before, but, they certainly bring out the color of his hair. As he turns, the glimmer of a square pendant sits in the middle of his exposed chest. It's a pretty silver necklace, you'll admit, though the sight of his auburn chest hairs only elicits flashes of memory from the night before.

An earnest gasp leaves your parted lips at the particularly hard thrust he gives you. Nails slightly digging into his shoulders, you're breathing hard, sweat covering your chest, sweat running down his temple. While he isn't toned in the same way Bucky or any body builder is, he's still muscular. The strength with which he holds himself up over you, and grips your hip with his free hand is enough of an indicator.

While moans pour past your lips, groans and grunts slipping out of his, you can't help but admire him. Is it so wrong that you're doing this? It doesn't feel wrong. In fact, it feels like everything you've been missing the past few years. The way he touches you, looks at you, fills you... it's ecstatic. And, sure, maybe your judgment is clouded by the tangled knot that's already building in your lower stomach. Yet, you can't help it. Was evil, as they call him, always so beautiful?

Leg hooking itself around his hip, you open yourself up just enough for him to be able to hit that spot. "Helmut, I-" your voice comes out far more desperate than you'd like. You'd both fully lost your composure some time ago during the first round. Now, your fingers run through his chest hair while you gaze up at him, taking in the way his hair is mussed, his skin sheens with sweat, and beauty marks litter his face. "Блят!" He curses under his breath, and you know he's getting close too. "Cum for me, Schatz."

"Turkish Delight," Zemo announces, wiggling a wrapped piece between his fingers before tossing one to Sam. Blinking a few times, you do your best to return to the present. The Avenger catches it swiftly, inspecting it in his hand while you turn your attention back to Zemo. He pours a bunch of the--What are they? Candies?--out from a rusty silver tin onto the counter, the ornate symbol on it catching your eye. "Irresistible," he describes, winking in your direction.

With a smile on your lips all you can do is shake your head at his discreet teasing as you grab a pink piece from the pile on the counter. "These are the things from Narnia, right? Turkish Delight," you question, unwrapping the crinkly clear plastic to hold the plush candy between your fingers.

"Oh my God," Sam enunciates each word before he exclaims with a laugh, slapping the counter gently. "I haven't thought about that in ages!"

"Narnia?" Bucky questions, a quirked brow of confusion on his face. He looks between you and Sam for clarification.

"It's a children's book, though I do not remember the reference," Zemo explains, obviously intrigued.

"In the movie-" you begin.

"-Based off the book," Sam interrupts to add, popping the treat into his mouth.

"-one of the kids gets, sort of... manipulated?" You question what word is best a descriptor considering it's been awhile since you've seen it. "By the witch, because she offers him whatever he wants for his loyalty, and to rat out his sibling's location or something, basically their lives, and out of everything in the whole world, he picks Turkish Delight!" You explain with a chuckle at the thought.

"Though I think it's because it was during the war and they didn't really have food like that, but yeah- it doesn't come across in the movie at all!" Sam offers more insight.

"Makes sense," Bucky comments lamely with a shrug as he opens his own candy.

"Well, we can go once this one's dressed," Sam remarks somewhat passive-aggressively with a left-turn comment.

"Well, if you give me a moment, I'll be happy to meet you at the door," Zemo retaliates somewhat sarcastically, leaving a somewhat soured and tense vibe between everyone in the room. Back to business, you guess.

-------

You try not to ogle him when he comes back in a fuchsia turtleneck sweater that fits a little too snug, and a long black trench coat with a fur-lined collar. The entire ensemble is all too reminiscent of the night two days ago when you'd landed in Madripoor.

While you weren't exactly sure where you all were going, Zemo seemed to have a good idea once Bucky had shared the location of the Supply Depot. It might've been somewhat of a trust exercise on all your behalves to blindly follow the socialite down the winding, peeling streets of Riga, yet nevertheless somewhat of an adrenaline inducing adventure in your mind.

Having just come through a set of steel double doors, you try not to feel anxious as the gate shuts behind you. Trailing along the Baron's side, you read the posters on the walls.

"Shame what's become of this place," he states, making conversation. As you open your mouth to ask what he means, Zemo expands. "When I was young we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties. I knew nothing of the politics of the time, of course, but I remember it being beautiful."

While part of you is curious to ask the Baron questions, there's a more pressing matter at hand.

'RESET.

RESTORE.

REBUILD.

Global Repatriation Council.'

Reading the poster pasted along the white walls of the courtyard, you can only imagine what you're going to be up against.

"I'm gonna take a look upstairs," Sam announces, "See what you can find out here." Tearing your gaze from the poster you finally meet the man's gaze. "And keep an eye on him." There's no need to extrapolate, it's obvious he means the Baron. You assume dual responsibility, even if he might've been directing it toward Bucky and not necessarily you.

A nod in your friend's direction, Sam parts from the group stepping through a set of glass-paned double doors, allowing you three reign of the courtyard. "I'll stay out of your way," Zemo announces, lifting his gloved hands in a defensive gesture as he takes a step further into the area. You don't miss, however, the glare Bucky gives the Baron, and the devilish smile the man displays behind the Soldier's back.

All around you people seem busy with their activities, some hanging wet laundry up on lines to dry, some washing and cutting vegetables at tables, while others huddle in a corner and whisper to your right. Out of your periphery you can spot Bucky approaching the people laundering on your left. "Donya?" He posits, to no response. "No?"

With your more friendly demeanor, and being a woman, you decide to take a stab at it. Cautiously approaching the people on your right, many disperse from their conversation in search of something to do, no doubt. The woman and man that remain, you sidle up against. "Excuse me," you speak softly, "do you know where Donya Madani's reception is going to be?"

The woman appears meek, her stringy hair held back by a ribbon, hands coming up to her chest. She simply shakes her head while the man at least offers you an answer. "No," he responds, "We don't trust outsiders." Turning his back on you, he returns to conversation with the woman, ultimately shutting you out. Your lips purse in retaliation, and while you might attempt to argue and question why he thinks you're an outsider any other time, you know they'd seen who you'd come in with.

Mind churning through different tactics, it isn't until you spot Zemo halfway across the courtyard that you know he's most likely up to no good. He won't get a chance to escape, not on your watch. With bigger strides than you're used to, you stalk after him as discreetly as you can without straight up chasing him.

"Yes, sir~ yes, sir, three bags full~" the Baron is reciting some sort of rhyme you're not familiar with in a tone that's far too ominous for your taste. "One for my master, one for the dame~" He's certainly garnered the attention of the children, and while they've stopped playing, he's pulled out a small wooden stool from their accompanied small table. "One for the little girl who lives down the lane~"

Attempting to appear busied, you kick at the cobblestone beneath your feet, keeping a short distance between yourself and the man before you who crouches in front of the stool, spilling the contents of a paper bag he'd produced onto it. Ah.... The sly bastard. An assortment of the temptingly colorful candies plop onto the stool. It's something you're sure the children haven't seen in a long time, judging by the looks of this place. And as a child, who can resist something like that? If anything, he'd taken your comment about Narnia a little too seriously.

"Turkish Delight," you hear Zemo state, though your eyes are fixated on the statue of Poseidon behind the group of children. It's intriguing to you that he'd thought to bring the candy in the first place. How did he know there were going to be children here? "It was always my son's favorite." For some reason the admission pings at your heart. Why? You aren't too sure. Maybe it's the way it was easy to forget he had a family. At least... you hadn't remembered reading about him being a father. Yet, the revelation leaves a sorrowful feeling in your stomach. You know you never would've spent that night together if they were alive.

Motion draws your attention back to the scene at hand, and you can't help but shove your hands in your pockets. The blonde haired girl grabs one of the candies, unafraid as she'd been the only one of them to approach. "My old friend, Donya, passed away," Zemo lies, "Did you know her?" Biting your lip, you can't help but watch, impressed, by his tactic. Of course the children will know. They hear everything, and considering the taboo subject, and their naivety, will most likely respond to his white lie.

The girl tentatively nods. "Yes," she answers, fingers anxiously twirling the candy back and forth in her little fingers by either end of the plastic wrapping.

"I would like to pay my last respects," he continues, "Do you know where her funeral will be?" Wow, you mentally laugh to yourself. He's using the exact same tactic you were going to use! You might not have went with 'old friend', but rather, someone you knew. Mentor, perhaps? Contact? Regardless, the 'paying your last respects' bait is exactly what you would've claimed if only the adults had indulged your conversation a bit longer.

Moment of truth. The little girl nods again, though this time he simply points to his ear before she's skipping to his side and whispering. Unfortunately, he's too far away for you to make out what she's saying. Eyes drifting back to the statue, you can't help but wonder why such a beautiful piece of art is sitting here, in a secluded cobblestone courtyard, of all places. As far as you'd known, Latvia wasn't partial to Greece's Polytheistic beliefs.

Suddenly, Zemo's standing, towering over the children as he tells them something in a hushed voice. Tempted to get closer, you're about to make a move when his actions bring you to a halt. Fingers twisting in front of their lips, they tacitly make a bond you're familiar with. Secrets; sealing your mouth with the key and throwing it away. With a handover of the Turkish Delight, the Baron turns on his heels and strides back the way you'd come. It's then that you rejoin him.

"You just got it, didn't you?" You question, Sam and Bucky appearing in your periphery up ahead.

The Baron says nothing as he tucks his hands into his coat's pockets and shrugs. "Cute kids," he finally states. That's all the answer you know you're going to get, begrudgingly.

"Head back?" Sam suggests, hands shoved in his pockets as the breeze begins to pick up in the alley.

"We should be seen as little as possible," Bucky states. Though, you know he must mean it in agreement, it'd simply come across awkward and unrelated if you hadn't picked up on his communication style awhile back.

--------

Entering the apartment once again, Zemo heads for the kitchen with a determination that makes you think twice about where his motives lie and what he could possibly be planning, while Bucky stomps into the living room, Sam close behind.

"Well, I got nothing," Bucky admits defeat. "No one's talking about Donya."

As you follow Bucky and Sam to the couch, you remain standing while they each take a seat. You cross your arms over your chest.

"They don't trust outsiders. Know better than to confide in people speaking English," you comment. Eyes drifting over to spot Zemo rifling through the cabinets and rooting around the kitchen, preoccupied with God knows what. He knows something, yet isn't saying anything. Nevertheless, as Sam's voice fills the living space your attention falls back to the conversation at hand.

"Yeah, it's because Karli is the only one fighting for them," Sam points out. Bucky sighs at the information. "And she's not wrong."

"What do you mean?" Bucky questions, eyes landing on your friend.

"For five years people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbwire. There were houses and jobs," he explains.

"Yeah, it was actually pretty nice," you agree. "You don't know?" Settling on Bucky's features for a moment, you're only met with a tense look upon his face and cold eyes. That gives you enough of an answer. He was a victim of the Snap, too? You never would have guessed.

"Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild," Sam continues, "It wasn't just one community coming together, it was the entire world coming together... and then, boom," he snaps his fingers together, "Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them, at least Karli's doin' somethin'."

"Which is better than anything the government's doing," you add.

"You really think her ends justify her means?" Bucky posits.

"Mm-mm," Sam shakes his head in response to your comment, clearly not wanting to get into that can of worms. And you aren't entirely sure how to answer the heavy hitting question.

"Then she's no different than him or anybody else we've fought," Bucky points out.

Eyes shifting between Bucky and Zemo, you're unsure why that's necessarily a bad thing. While you've known how Sam sees Zemo's actions, and you'd thought Bucky's alignment fell somewhere in-between... you're starting to think he and Sam are more alike than you'd previously thought. As you open your mouth to debate Bucky's question, your friend beats you to it.

"She's different," Sam retorts without hesitation. "She's not motivated by the same things."

As Zemo approaches from your right, you can't help but notice he's got a tray in his hands. Some kind of pink tea sits within a see-through teapot, a couple of teacups atop their tiny plates joined by spoons lie around it.

"That little girl," Bucky states, "What'd she tell you?" The question elicits a suspicious look between the Baron and the three of you. It's obvious he's weighing his options. Setting the tray down upon the round table, he finally meets the Soldier's eyes again.

"The funeral is this afternoon," Zemo reveals. A hint of a small smirk tugs at the corner of your lip as you'd just known that tactic would work. While you may be a little jealous you hadn't thought of it first, you can't deny it was smart, and you'd known it'd pay off as soon as you saw him talking to her and realized what he was doing.

However, you can't help but notice the way he answers calmly. Cool, and collected, it's obvious he's trying to bide time. Think of a way out of this.

"You know the Dora's coming for you any minute," Bucky threatens, not having taken his eyes off the Baron since the man approached. "In fact, they're probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking." This little tidbit of information causes you to unintentionally whip your head around to stare out the thin windows lining the apartment's front door. Like you'd realistically see someone standing right there.

Even if you don't know who the Dora are, the imminent threat looms over all of your heads, not just Zemo's.

"Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli," Zemo hums in thought, "I prefer to keep my leverage." Fingers running over the smooth ceramic cup he holds within his hands, you don't question things as Bucky gets up and rounds the table before you. In an instant the Soldier's throwing it, the ceramic smashing against the wall behind the Baron. You both flinch, albeit subtly, as your eyes widen.

"You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?" Bucky taunts, taking a step closer to the Baron and eliciting you and Sam's action. While you're reaching toward Bucky, Sam's standing across from him, looming over the table like he's ready to intervene if need be.

"Take it easy," Sam warns.

"It's fine," you add on. If there's anything you've picked up on from Zemo, it's that he's just as intent on getting to Karli as the two of your guys' are.

"Don't engage him," Sam advises, "He's just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing,"

Funnily enough, Zemo straightens his posture having realized he was, in fact, tilting his head. Something, you have to pride Sam for having recognized. You certainly hadn't noticed. "Let me make a call," Sam excuses himself. Rounding the table, he pats Bucky on the back on his way out. Despite this, the men continue to stare one another down like some sort of fight for male dominance.

"You want some Cherry Blossom tea?" Zemo offers. A lame attempt at deescalating the heightened tension in the room.

A sneer displays itself across the Soldier's face. "No, you go ahead," he refutes, turning and storming off. While you deliberate on following, having even taken so much as a step or two, you give up. Considering you don't know the man that well, there's no way he'd ever care to listen to what you have to say.

You don't miss the way Zemo audibly, albeit faintly, releases an exhale. A sigh slips past your own lips and your eyes finally fall down to the tea in question. "Cherry Blossom?" You ask, amusement unhidden in your tone.

"It's a delicacy," Zemo quips without so much as a beat. The man shrugs before walking back over to the kitchen, to which, you follow.

"Sure," you respond, "I mean, I don't know, but, it sounds good." Now for your lame attempt at reducing the tension.

"Would you like some?" He asks, though his tone sounds somewhat rhetorical as he grabs a kitchen towel off the counter and turns on his heels to look at you, no apparent expression on his face besides indifference.

This takes you aback, and you try to contain the surprised look on your face when you mentally and verbally flail. "I- I mean-" you shake your head as you try to gather your rationale, "-if you're having some, then sure? Yeah, I guess it wouldn't hurt."

Your reaction elicits a faint chuckle from the man as he flings the towel over his shoulder, walking back your way toward the spill. It feels oddly both exhilarating somehow and ominous the way your shoulders brush against one another unintentionally when he passes. He doesn't stop or turn to look back at you, but simply kneels before the mess and begins to clean it up, which gives you pause.

In the silence your mind reels, yet you can't seem to stop yourself from voicing the thoughts bouncing around up there. "What do you think you're going to get?" Your voice is calm, cool, and collected. Everything he'd been only moments before Bucky had burst. It's simply a question that's been churning over and over in your mind for the past few hours.

Even if he's turned from you, the brief pause of his movement gives way to how you've rattled him. "The same thing as you," he answers, the sound of glass gently scraping against the tiled floors is all the sound you need to know he's regained his assuredness.

Only, this time you're the one stumped for an answer. Mouth opening and closing for a split-second as you search for a grasp on his meaning, you know there's no way he's serious. "What do you mean?" Fingers playing with the hem of your borrowed sweater, you hope your deciphering of his words is wrong, for many reasons.

The man before you slowly rises to a stand, his figure towering over yours as he turns, green eyes peering down at you with something cynical beneath the surface. "You're in the same boat as Sharon. Hoping for a pardon," he answers confidently, eye contact unwavering as that mischievous glint in his eye makes you feel vulnerable under his gaze. "Assuming I've picked up on your situation correctly, of course."

In this silent stare down you're the first to break, again, as your eyes shift aside the both of you in search of a decent response. When nothing comes to mind, a sigh escapes you. That's when he walks off, leaving you standing there alone. Whatever heat had been emitting from him in droves simply fades like he was never that close to begin with. "You're... not wrong," you reply, watching him dispose of the glass in the trash as you still stand between the living room and kitchen.

"So you're not the good girl you portray yourself as," Zemo diverts, the topic evolving into something you weren't prepared for. When his eyes raise to meet yours from behind the island, you can't help but search within his gaze for what prompted this, his innuendo quite overt.

"I never pretended to be someone I'm not," you bite back. This time there's no hesitancy or submissiveness in your voice. Turning on your heels, you head for the couch. Bucky still isn't back from the bathroom yet. Who knows? Maybe he went off to find Sam and relay plans without you in whatever room the man went off to for his phone call.

"I cannot say I did not doubt you," Zemo comments as he approaches once more, another cup in hand this time. "However, your tenacity was admirable in the ship yard." The man lifts his teapot up, pouring the pink liquid into their respective cups.

An eyebrow quirks in response. You're not sure how to take his words, or what his intent is, however you decide to take him at his word. "Tell me what you really think," you joke, ultimately deciding to let go of whatever indignation his comment had brewed internally. Because, why would you care about his opinion? Would it be because he'd almost gotten away with one crime? With an assassination? Or for creating a divide amongst friends? I don't think so.

It certainly wasn't because you'd slept with him. If you'd been fishing for compliments or praise, you wouldn't do half the things you do. The way you acted with him, you never pretended. At least that was honest. You're not so sure you can think the same of him anymore.

Silence settles between you for a moment. Only the sound of liquid pouring into the china resounds through the open room. "May I ask," he speaks, pausing in his actions as you can see him mentally gauging how to word whatever's on his mind. Placing the teapot back in its spot on the tray, his eyes give you a once over. "Why is it that you're not as angry with me? I cannot say that their ire has ever been subtle in the least."

The glance he'd spared in the direction Bucky had taken off leaves you with an exact understanding of what he's asking: 'Everyone else is against me. Why aren't you?' There's one thing in admitting that you don't trust him; something that wouldn't surprise him, you're sure. However, angry? No. You're not angry with him.

"Besides the fact that you haven't personally wronged me, for one," you begin, eyes shifting toward the block of couch between you. "Not everyone holds the same sentiment for our country as they do." Looking off in the direction your friends had gone, you know it's a hard truth.

Sharon may joke about them being poster boys for the United States government, and Bucky may not always agree with, or support, their endeavors. But, ultimately, isn't that exactly what they are? Even if only to some degree? After everything you'd endured on its behalf, it'd be hard to say that it didn't at least open your eyes a little toward what values the country truly stands on its feet for.

"They're just extra loud about their beliefs," you attempt to joke, diluting the reality beneath your conversation, and deescalate the tension. With a soft chuckle, you finally meet the Baron's eye again. He isn't smiling or frowning, however the look within his eyes is the only solace that there's an understanding between the two of you.

At least there's that. Someone who isn't afraid to actually weigh the reality of the circumstances.

"You are not wrong about that," Zemo 'tsks', a faint smile finally spreading across his lips as he lifts the china glass to his lips. You follow suit, having let it cool down for a moment. Somewhere in the recesses of your mind had you also potentially worried about poison. However, if he's drinking it then it should be fine... right? "It is unfortunate, however, how many people do not realize the seemingly mundane is the dogma they're being blindly fed," he says between sips. "What do you think?"

Blinking, you're met with his intent expression, unsure how to respond. He hadn't given you any time to mentally piece together a response or comment! "I... don't-"

Zemo laughs wholeheartedly; wrinkles form beside his eyes and he's bent over his lap, careful not to spill his tea. You're befuddled. You don't know how to react or what to do, or even what was so funny? Yet, you'd be lying if you said if his laughter wasn't contagious, or that you chuckle a little in confusion over the whole situation. It'd be a downright depressing question if you were left wondering if and when the last time he'd laughed like that was. That thought doesn't cross your mind in the moment, fortunately.

"I meant about the tea," he finally explains, clueing you in on the amusement of the situation. Your expression of realization must be funny considering the way it starts up his laughter again. And, the fact that it's the type of laughter that makes your stomach hurt from the muscles working overtime, to the way your cheeks also ache in conjunction after unconsciously smiling for so long is something you can only be jealous of. For, when's the last time you'd experienced that?

"Oh!" You facepalm with your empty hand, slightly embarrassed, hoping your cheeks aren't flushing with it. "I-it's good! Yeah, I like it," you reply, unable to help yourself from smiling down at the pink liquid still filling a little less than half of your cup. "It's really..." you try to think of the best word to describe it.

"Refreshing?" He posits.

You find yourself unconsciously smiling in his direction upon his response. "That's a good word for it! Sweet, and somehow, like... a little crisp? But, refreshing, yeah!"

"Is he doing his standup routine for you?" Sam questions as he strolls into the living room with purpose in his stride.

"Had plenty of time to practice in prison," Bucky grumbles in Sam's pursuit, loud enough for everyone to hear, yet quiet enough for it to be considered an intrusive thought.

As you look in their direction, you can't help but smile a little wider at their joke. Even if they don't realize it, Bucky and Sam definitely have a similar humor. One only amplifying the other. "Uh, no? He just said something I misunderstood and it was funny," you correct and inform them. Though you're sure they couldn't care less.

"Not everyone aspires to become a comedian," Zemo retorts, "even if most people of your--well, one of your--generations seem to wish to be." The man crosses his legs, body squared off toward theirs on the couch.

"Wow, what an original one," Bucky says snarkily. The solider crosses his arms, his routine stoicism having returned.

"You had some?" Sam asks, eyes flitting between you and the cherry blossom tea.

"Yeah! It's actually really nice," you perk up, glad someone else isn't brooding or feuding in this room. It's truly been enough of a testosterone-fest the past few days to last you years!

"I'll have to get some later then," Sam comments with a seemingly genuine excitement to try something from another culture.

"Yeah, just jot it down on the bucket list," Bucky remarks sarcastically.

"Okay, well, I just heard from Sharon," Sam relays, hands gesticulating as he starts to explain the plan, effectively ignoring Bucky's attitude. "She's got an eye on our back so we're not going in blind, but we still need to be hypervigilant going in there."

"Prepared for anything," Bucky reinforces the idea. You're still not entirely convinced they're not set on killing the girl. At least, you're confident that Sam isn't.

As Sam pans over the basic plan, you can't help but worry about how everything's going to realistically play out. It's all good and easy to pretend everyone has a conscience and that Karli will simply hand over the rest of the Super Solider serum she has, but you doubt that's the case. She won't go quietly.

"Your job is to secure the vials and safely escort them out of the hot zone. You're the only one who can decipher how Nagel was pulling this stunt off and if the Power Broker's planning on doling out this stuff on a mass scale, then we sure as shit need this in the right hands." Sam explains to you. It's the first time you truly realize the gravity of your job in this mission. "With that outta the way-"

"Where is this thing?" Bucky asks pointedly as he stares down Zemo, no amusement to be found on his face. Straight to business, as always. Can't say you'd expect less from the man, unfortunately.

--------

Sidling up against Sam, you do your best to keep up with the men's speedy walk. Your legs aren't as long, and you make up for it by attempting to take bigger strides.

"Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit." The vaguely familiar voice garners all your group's attention as you follow Zemo to the leveraged meeting spot. It's that guy- the new Captain America. What was his name again?

He and his friend scamper down the stairs a few yards directly in front of your group.

"Ah!" Bucky exclaims with arms wide open. "How'd you find us now?" For some reason, he doesn't actually sound upset this time? At least, not truly.

"Come on," the Captain's friend answers. "You really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?" Well, he's got you there. Word spreads fast in towns like these.

"No more keeping us in the dark," the Captain demands, "You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison." The blonde-haired man turns his frustration on the Baron.

While you're not entirely sure what the Captain is referring to, it's obvious there's history between the men. What's more bothersome, is the way you notice someone just over their shoulder--a teenager--begin to record on his phone. It's obvious, the kid isn't even trying to hide it, granted... if you saw a celebrity out in public, would you do the same?

"He did that himself, technically," Bucky responds.

It's clear that's not what the Captain wanted to hear. The anger in his face is exacerbated by the pinch between his brows and the way he hasn't stopped encroaching on you all despite the rather close proximity he's gaining. "Ah, this better be an unbelievable explanati-"

"Hey, take it easy before it gets weird," Sam warns. With the way the Captain was gesticulating wildly, you'd say it already has, though you're not sure how best to contribute and deescalate the quickly escalating situation.

"I know where Karli is," Zemo explains. A quick look around shows you that multiple groups of people have stopped walking and are beginning to stare. This isn't good. You were supposed to be as discreet as possible, and that's already hard when you're in the company of three well-known people.

"Guys, people are watching," you whisper, gaze shifting over to the two staring each other down. The Baron grimaces for only a moment before attempting to slink around the Captain, who stops him with a hand placed on his chest.

"Well, where?" the Captain demands.

"All we know is, it's a memorial," Sam informs. Yet, despite the initial focus on Zemo, the man in question is looking past him for something. What's he looking for? Following his gaze, you don't spot anything. "So we're gonna intercept her there." Granted, your attention is quickly back on the men as they continue to plan.

"That means civilians. High risk of casualties," the Captain's friend announces. As Zemo manages to slip around the Captain, you follow, the rest of the group's footsteps behind you as they do the same.

"Good, that means we move fast, take her by surprise," the Captain comments.

"That's not the plan," you argue, not bothering to look over your shoulder.

"No, I wanna talk to her alone," Sam quips as well, the two of you unwilling to let things slide into a frenzy. No doubt something more than likely with the new poster-boys of the US Government on your tail.

"I'm not losing her again," the Captain states definitively.

"Look, the person closest to her died," Sam points out, "She's vulnerable. Now if there's any time to reason with her, it's now."

"What? No!" All of the sudden the Captain is jogging beside you until he's almost in front of you. "Wait, no! No! Stop," he holds his hands out as he steps directly in front of your group's path. "Hold on. Stop, okay? I think we're way past reasoning with her, unless you forgot the fact that she blew up a building with people in it."

"Of course you'd say that," you bite. From the past you've always known soldiers to be the quickest to anger, and the quickest to escalate. Nothing can ever end peacefully with them.

"Sam, you walk in there cold, she could kill you," his buddy is pointing out.

"What is that supposed to mean, exactly?" The Captain hones in on you this time.

"And if I go in hot and the op goes wrong, more people will die," Sam argues.

"Exactly- there's no room for error here," you add.

"Are you gonna let him do this?" The Captain turns his attention to Bucky, now. "Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a super soldier alone?" Silence fills the street for only a moment.

"He's dealt with worse. And he's not my partner," Bucky answers. Out of your periphery you can spot Zemo looking around again, and this time you're irritated. It was one thing having the US Government's ponyboy delaying your prime opportunity at ending things civilly, but now the Baron's looking for an escape route? Frowning in his direction, you can't help but follow his gaze again out of precaution. Only this time you see what he's been looking for.

"I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay?" Sam informs, "This is right in my wheelhouse." As your friend rounds Bucky to get closer to the Captain, you can only be grateful someone's intervening.

"Yeah, I know," the Captain responds. "And I know those soldiers which is why I know this is a bad idea."

"Aren't you supposed to be the image of diplomacy? Don't you think that's a bad strategy and a bad look?" You prod. If no one'll say it, someone has to. It's worth a thought, at least.

"Wait, John," the Captain's friend speaks. So that's his name! Definitely American, and an eerily perfect name for someone who'd represent America. Not that you're a fan. "She's not wrong. If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try."

John, as you now know, seems to consider this as he scoffs under his breath. With a shake of his head, he finally looks to Zemo. "We'll deal with you later," he warns.

"I'm sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion," the Baron replies, palms outward in a placative gesticulation. "my associate is just up ahead," he informs, gesturing up the path. It's the girl. The same one from the GRC encampment you'd visited earlier. The only child brave enough to speak to him, to earn the Turkish Delight for the rest of them.

This time it's you who can't keep it together as an amused breath leaves your lips. "Associate?" You question quietly, peering up at him.

Zemo meets your gaze for a moment, a sort of twinkle in his eye as he offers a half-hearted shrug. "Associate," he doubles down. The Baron rounds John's friend and takes the lead. Following suit, you know Bucky and Sam aren't far behind, while John and his friend dawdle after.

While the girl has a trepid look on her face, she doesn't back away. "Hello, my friend," Zemo greets, "this is for your family." You don't see what it is at first, only that he takes something out of his coat pocket and gives it to her. It's only as she tucks it away that you can make out the note. Euro? Pound? You're not sure what currency Latvia uses, but you did spot the five hundred mark on it. "Can you show us the way?"

The girl waves him over, and a quick look over your shoulder lets you know everyone's now on board with the mission.

"What the hell," you hear John murmur from the back. Truthfully, you'd questioned Zemo's method at first too. Even if you'd had a similar line of thought, there wasn't any guarantee it'd work out. The girl could've easily taken the Turkish Delight and had been done with the whole thing. Money, though? Definitely something people could use right now; especially if that place you'd been to was where she lived.

Luckily, the trip isn't long. The building just up ahead had been the right destination, but the girl takes you around the side and through a back door that leads to what you can only assume is a bakery. Or maybe it was an electrical station? A laundry house? Crematorium? You're unsure, really. Within the room there's another set of tiled stairs that leads to somewhere else. The girl opens the metal door and turns back to all of you, pointing up the extra set of stairs within.

"Karli's in there," Zemo states, as if a translator was needed.

"All right," Sam comments, heading after the girl up the stairs. Contemplating quickly rediscussing the plan with Sam, you take a few steps before a groan brings your attention back. John has Zemo pushed up against one of the ovens.

"Hey," John calls out to Sam, "you got ten minutes-"

"Really?" Zemo asks, evidently annoyed. The sound of handcuffs fills the silent room, and you can't say you're unsurprised by John's actions.

"-then we're doing things my way," John threatens.

"Aggressive," the Baron comments, eyeing John with a dangerous look in his eye, "but I get it." When he smirks, you can't help but look away. Whether it's the reminder that this man is conniving, or that you'd given yourself up to him in the most intimate of ways, you're uncertain. Really, that night he'd been the complete opposite of everything everyone who'd warned you about Zemo claimed him to be.

You're not unlike any other girl. Everyone likes it rough from time to time, and the thought that perhaps maybe he does too might stir something within you. It's... something you're unwilling to give thought to at the moment. Nevertheless, it'd been a one night stand; you're well aware of the man that he is, the man you've witnessed incapacitate multiple men. How you feel about that, on the other hand, is something you've yet to give yourself time to determine.

Sitting on the stairs, you've given up noticing all the small details within both the room you're in, and what you can see of the adjoining one. Bucky leans against the railing beside you, while John and his friend lean against the wall across from where Zemo stands, still handcuffed to the oven.

It's been quiet, though you'd tried to make small talk here and there to no fruitful discussion. From time to time you could feel Zemo's eyes on you, or Bucky spare a glance, but it was only natural considering sitting still in silence for ten minutes gives you limited options. Besides, it's not like you hadn't gazed over them once or twice either.

Now John's pacing, and you know that can't be good considering soldier's, as you know, are notorious for their impatience. Meeting Bucky's gaze, you offer a nervous look, to which he imperceptibly shakes his head. 'It's nothing to be worried about' is what his eyes say. Even if you both know that's a lie.

While Zemo's fingers bend and shift subconsciously clueing you into the fact that he's deep in thought, you find yourself too, starting to really ponder. And even if you can't pinpoint his thoughts, yours drift to the past seventy two hours.

The more time passes, the more John starts to pace, no longer taking breaks as he continuously walks back and forth the length of the floor. "Uh-uh," he says to himself, "no- no, no, this is a bad idea."

As he approaches Bucky again, the Soldier raises his eyes to meet John's figure, only for the Captain to back away again. You almost miss it, the way Zemo glances at his handcuffs. If you didn't know better you'd think he was only trying to eye John in his periphery, but no. No, can't be, can it? He's smarter than that. Ten minutes? Ten minutes and you're not thinking about how to get out of those cuffs? You'd be stupid to think otherwise.

As soon as the Baron's eyes shift, your eyes flick over to John. They're close enough, surely he didn't notice. Hopefully, you think.

"It hasn't been ten minutes, John," Bucky breaks the silence, "just sit tight," he advises.

"Don't do that," John argues, "don't patronize me." The agitation is evident in his tone. It's only a matter of time before a fight breaks out, you just know it. A palpable feeling in the air, a sense, or maybe just anxiety. Either way, dread starts to seep into your chest.

"He knows what he's doing," Bucky assures him. Opting to stand, your butt having started to hurt, your arms cross over your own chest. Whether it's a subconscious closing off toward the raging testosterone in the room, or an imitation of Bucky's intimidation is unknown.

"Yeah," you agree, hoping to voice some sense of calm and reassurance.

John doesn't pay any of you mind though. Standing at the end of the aisle he stares at the wall, a hardened look on his face, and it feels impossible to tell what he's thinking. All you know is it can't be good.

Just as that thought crosses your mind, John's striding back over to the two of you with determination. "I'm goin' in," he declares. Taking a step backward up onto the next step on the stairs, Bucky doesn't hesitate to throw a hand onto the man's chest, effectively blocking him.

You feel like your breath is stuck in your chest as the Captain's friend sidles up to him, both of them apparently on the same page. John's eyes slowly rise up to meet Bucky's face, having been glaring down at the impediment. "This is all really easy for you, isn't it?" The man asks.

A look of confusion crosses your face as your brows pinch together slightly. Does he mean this entire situation, or does he mean...? Bucky has been through war, you know that. He was an Avenger, too, wasn't he?

"All that serum runnin' through your veins," John continues, unknowingly answering your question. Part of you knew. You just knew what he meant, but... what did it matter? The hatred in John's eyes only further elicit more questions. Mainly, is he trying to convince Bucky to join him, or suggest that he's a part of the problem? As he looks toward the room behind you, you figure the former. "Barnes, your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?"

The whole room goes silent. You know Bucky's contemplating it; you'd be lying if you said you weren't. Yet, ultimately it's another half minute before Bucky asserts that if John's going, they're all going together. One look at Zemo from both men leaves you torn. A sigh escapes your lips before you assure them you'll watch the Baron. Of course the man needs a babysitter, right? Regardless, if there's about to be a brawl then you certainly would hope, at best, to stay uninvolved.

The momentary deliberation is enough time for the men to distract Bucky as John and his friend shove their way past, the two of them taking off. Bucky follows suit. Jaw dropped, you take a few steps after them, uncertain in whether you should help Bucky stop them and let Sam handle this alone, or make sure Zemo doesn't get free.

With that, there's a metallic clinking behind you that leaves you whipping your head around. Face to face with the spoken Devil himself, he's free. "What do you think you're doing?!" It comes out louder than you'd intended, but with the way the tension's exploded in the room, you can't hold back the nerves that've been eating away at you inside.

"We have to stop Karli," Zemo asserts. As he attempts to sidestep you, you sidestep in time with him, blocking his path. "We cannot waste anymore time! If she gets away, we are all dead." There's a moment of eye contact; the determination on both of your faces surely rival one another, and while there's an unbridled anger beneath the surface of his irises, yours shifts into one of understanding upon consideration of his words.

Yet, you're not quick enough. Even if you might foolishly decide to trust him on this, which you don't, he takes advantage of your hesitancy. Hand on your shoulder, he's pushing you aside more roughly than you'd like, but not hard enough to tip you over, just enough to get you out of his way. Stumbling, you quickly regain balance before running after him.

In the span of minutes, you're running from room to room after a man who navigates the maze of a building with an uncanny sense of certainty. There's no time to question it, no time to wonder where he's going or if he's even leading you in the right direction. How would he even know? Regardless, it's only as you come to a stop in a darkened room lit only by the rays of sun streaming through the little windows atop the walls that Zemo stops.

It looks like a cellar, almost, racks with medical instruments, a table with scientific equipment laid strewn across it. You know what this is, and yet you also can't mentally process that it is what's right in front of you. Super Soldier Serum. Right here, in the flesh, sitting in a vacutainer. "How did you know-?" You question, only to be interrupted.

"Shh!" Zemo demands, pulling you into the shadows by your sleeve. The hurried sound of footsteps bounding closer and closer rings out in the cavernous room. Anxiety wells up again in your belly as there's no telling who it is. Friend, or foe? With only so many days in the boys' company, you've wound up in this situation far too often for your liking.

Both of you breathing hard, still trying to catch your breath after sprinting through the building, it's much harder to keep quiet than you would've thought. It takes the mental task of counting your breath in and out to ease the blood running through your veins.

Hidden behind a series of big pipes, his focus isn't on you as he pulls something from within his jacket. The shiny silver color of what can only be a gun reflects in the spots of sunlight streaming this far into the room. He ejects the chamber and counts the rounds. "It's not fair you get a gun," you state annoyedly. Apparently everyone else is seemingly always prepared for this, except you. Granted, this wasn't a part of the plan!

"Well, next gun you find, be my guest, Schatz," Zemo whispers, eyeing you with a look you can't place. It only lasts a moment, however, as he reloads the gun and peers around the pillar. Suddenly, there's the loud creak of a metal door opening before it slams shut, footsteps bounding down the stairs you'd seen at the front of the room when you'd been snooping.

Whoever's approaching is doing so fast, and you know you're going to have to face them. Zemo takes charge; turning the corner, he pops up, shots fired! A frustrated groan leaves the person's lips and you're quick to follow suit, popping up to see who you're up against. It's her. Shit, it's Karli! A super soldier. Shot after shot is fired and instinct drives into action.

"Stop!" You yell, beelining after him. There's a loud bang as you see the metal table topple over, everything crashing to the floor and scattering everywhere. "You can't kill her! She's just a girl!"

Just as she pokes her head out, another shot is fired. He comes to a stop just before the table, giving you more than enough time to catch up. You attempt to tackle him, jumping onto him, trying to reach around for the gun. A groan leaves him, and you struggle. The man shifts his body with enough force to toss you off and onto the ground. "Really?" He says with an obvious tone of disappointment. "You are either part of the solution, or part of the problem, Liebling! Make your choice."

"This wasn't the plan," you remind him, breathing heavy on the floor.

"Maybe not yours, but it was always the final outcome," he responds. Just as movement's heard from behind the table another shot rings out and you flinch. Springing to your feet, you grab ahold of his wrist, long enough to stall him from any further damage. "Guess you're part of the problem." Kneeing him in the thigh, you yank his arm downward with enough force for the gun to fall from his grasp. In a swift movement, Zemo turns on you, his elbow right behind.

Next thing you know, you're on the floor. Things are blurry, and your head is spinning, but you can make out the blue vials on the concrete.

"Is this what I-" you hear him say, yet it feels like you're hearing him from underwater. It feels like having to force yourself to see what's before you. The heaviness of your body and your eyelids, is far too much. It feels as though things are unfolding before you like a foreign movie, no way for you to take part, change the outcome, or even understand what's going on.

Another ringing shot resounds throughout the room and there's a series of smashing that follows. "No! No!" You hear someone cry.

--------

You'd woken with a raging headache and a barrage of questions directed your way. The room still felt like it was swaying, and while your mind raced with thoughts and answers, it was as if there was a lump in your throat. That made it hard to speak at first, and while you'd held your head, the boys moved you over to the table. Sam seemed busy on his computer while Bucky had taken over checking you out.

A few tablets later and an encouraged full glass of water downed, you feel a lot more alert. "Ow!" You exclaim, immediately turning your head to the side. "What the hell, Bucky?"

He turns off his phone's flashlight before setting the device down on the table. "At least we know it's not a concussion," he says, as if the explanation is an apology. "Really, you should be lying down."

"Was it Karli?" Sam asks, momentarily pausing his typing to tap into the conversation. His gaze is intent and serious, he wants to know whether or not she was the one who hurt you. A shake of your head leaves their expressions souring. "Then who?"

Lips pursing, you avert their gaze, considering what'll happen if you tell them the truth. Yet, you also couldn't care less what happens to Zemo. "He knocked me out," you answer quietly, eyes shifting over to the unconscious man on the couch.

"What?" Bucky practically growls, eyes darting toward the Baron.

"He was shooting at her, and I-" a breath forces itself from your lungs as you recall the recent memory, "-I tried to stop him. We got into it, and he hit me... that's all I remember before, you know." Gesturing to yourself, it's upon that realization that a thoughtful expression overtakes your features. "What happened after that?"

"Jesus," Sam curses, and you swear you can read his thoughts. The guilt is all over his face. He thinks it's his fault that this happened. "Should've known he'd try something. Why'd you-" Sam turns his anger on Bucky as the Soldier gets up.

"He was Special Forces. Makes sense," Bucky states. As he heads over to the bathroom, you figure he's exiting the conversation. It'd already been enough of a mess when John had decided that seven minutes surely equated the ten he'd promised Sam. You can't blame Bucky for distancing himself from the aftermath.

"That doesn't mean tha-" Sam argues, hand balling up into a fist on the table. "You shouldn't have had t-" he turns to you now, a much more gentle tone. Though for whatever reason, he stops himself short. Shaking his head, he looks over his shoulder at Zemo's unconscious figure with a frown before refocusing on you. "At least you did the right thing."

"We're pretty sure that John took care of Zemo considering we'd found him over both of you when we got there," Bucky explains upon returning.

"It's why we didn't immediately assume Zemo, even if I would've bet money on it," Sam adds.

You sip at the second glass of water you'd been given, not too enthused by Bucky's stoicism. Yet, when he plops back down in the chair he'd dragged before yours, both facing each other, he's folding a wet wash cloth. "Here," he offers. Despite whatever feelings are brewing within, you take the generosity.

When Zemo finally wakes, you've already caught up on everything that'd happened between Sam and Karli. The Baron's gasp elicits everyone's attention. It only takes a minute to get out of him that he'd been in the process of destroying all the Super Soldier Serum when John had apparently thrown his shield straight into the Baron's skull.

"Karma," you mutter, too out of it to fully smile, even if something more akin to a smirk displays itself on your lips.

Zemo doesn't respond for once, simple utterances of pained noises and groans escaping the man as he questions why you've been attended to, but he isn't. "After you knocked her out? I don't think so," Sam says, voice laced with incredulity.

"Even before that, yeah, it'd be a 'No'." Bucky adds, and you're not sure you entirely love that sentiment. "Guess you made it your mission to get everyone on your bad list, huh?" It's obviously a joke, you know that... yet there's something in you that contemplates his words.

Eyes shifting over toward the Baron for the second time since he'd regained consciousness, your eyes meet. There's an unspoken conversation between you; even in complete silence, telltale feelings are exchanged there. Within his hazel eyes is what you can only chalk up to a tacit question of: Is he right? There's a hint of something akin to sadness... what you'd hope is possibly regret, guilt, or an inkling of something apologetic.

Realistically, on the other hand, you know it's probably just your imagination filling in the absence of reasoning. On your end, you know there's similar feelings in yourself. The key difference is you know there's disappointment, betrayal, and hurt there, too.

It was only a fleeting moment, the eye contact, but you force yourself to close that door. Turning away, Bucky offers to get you something to eat while you attempt to relax and recuperate, lying on the window seat across the open floorplan. With that, he's off. In the tension of the room, with unspoken resentments, and disagreeing morals, another silence overtakes the apartment. Only this time, it's uncomfortable.

It's Zemo who breaks this silence. Even after he'd gotten up and poured himself a drink, along with grabbing his own wet washcloth, things hadn't lessened in their intensity. "Were you offered it?" The Baron prods. This captures your attention, though it's impossible to tell who he's asking. To make matters worse, the subject is still up in the air.

"What?" Sam responds, assuming it was for him.

"The serum," Zemo clarifies, before tacking your name onto it. "-the question extends to you as well." And you can feel his heedy stare on you.

"No," Sam answers definitively, and you can see a hint of amusement on his face from where you're lying. Understandably, it was an odd question. When you don't respond in tandem, Zemo seems to move on.

"If you had been, hypothetically, that is, would you haven taken it?" The Baron takes it a step further.

"No." Sam's quick to say. There's a moment of silence, and you find your friend's gaze flicking up to you from his computer.

"No," you iterate, not having thought your response would be unobvious.

"No hesitation. That's impressive," Zemo compliments before you spot the washcloth move from his forehead, the Baron now alert. "You, however, hesitated," he points out.

"I'm tired of your questions," you bite, "that's why."

"Yet, you would consider taking it?" The Baron furthers, gaze intent on you across the room.

"Look, st-" Sam starts, attempting to pacify the friction. You'd already been drug into this because of Zemo's righteousness, and you're ready to pounce. "-op antagonizing her. You've already done enough."

"No. Being a hero is overrated," you admit, "I just wasn't expecting the question."

"I am not antagonizing," Zemo defends, something shifting in his eyes. A darkness you've begun to see more and more today, it seems.

"You knocked her out! I think you've done enough. She's on our side, and you had to go an-" Sam's interrupted.

"Karli was getting away! I could not let that happen," Zemo argues.

"Yet, you had to go and make things weird," Sam retorts, swiveling in his chair to fully face the Baron. "Fine." Hands up, it's clear he's unwilling to fight any longer. You also don't need him to fight on your behalf, but at this point you don't really want to entice more conversation from the Baron.

Zemo finally seems to accept your answers, as he sighs heavily. There's a 'tsk' followed by a shake of his head. "You two cannot hold out hope for Karli," he begins, "No matter what you saw in her. She's gone."

There's a big part of you that doesn't want to give him the floor to speak, the air to talk and spread his extremist ideals. Yet, there's another part that can understand what he's saying, and where he's coming from. Eyes flicking between the two men, it's clear Sam isn't going to interrupt, and if he isn't, you'd be damned to do so either.

"And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people. Super Soldiers cannot be allowed to exist." Zemo states it all with a confidence and pride that draws a heaviness to the air in the room. It's definitive, radical, and more than anything... dangerous.

All you can do is sit there, your mind drifting back to Bucky, to Steve. How easy is it to say such a thing when the one person in your group who this tirade revolves around is no longer present?

"Isn't that how gods talk?" Sam rebuttles. "And if that's how you feel, what about Bucky?" He'd taken the words right out of your mouth. Great minds think alike, you suppose. Yet, surprisingly, Zemo hasn't refuted anything so far. "Blood isn't always the solution."

The sound of a latch clicking signals the said Soldier's return. How funny, or coincidental... you're not sure which one. The man strides into the room stripping off his jacket. "Something's not right about Walker," he states. Always straight to business with this one, you think.

"You don't say," Sam quips sarcastically.

"He was a soldier," you point out with an amused breath.

"Hey," Sam says in a warning tone, eyeing you with his own mirth.

"Well, I know a crazy when I see one," Bucky comments, pouring himself a glass of something amber in nature. You can only assume it's whiskey. "Because I am crazy." Glancing toward you, it's unclear whether this joke--which you're not entirely sure it is--was due to your comment, or he's being sincere.

"Can't argue with that," Sam replies.

"Shouldn't have given him the shield," Bucky changes topics. You know what he means. John Walker is probably the antithesis of what America stands for, in your opinion. Or at least from what you'd seen of him, which, admittedly, was enough.

"I didn't give him the shield," Sam retorts, frustration ebbing into his tone as he stands from the table and heads over to confront the Soldier.

"Well, Steve definitely didn't," Bucky adds, sipping at his drink.

The sound of wood splitting and doors slamming resound loudly throughout the apartment. "All right," you know that voice, "That's it. Let's go!" It's John Walker. Speak of the Devil. "I'm now ordering you to turn him over," the Captain commands, pointing toward Zemo.

"Great, here we go again," you state annoyedly, no longer willing to hold back your judgmental thoughts. Though, the headache might have something to do with it, too. Sam immediately turns from his position at the counter, meeting the Captain and his friend halfway.

"Hey, slow your roll, Man," Sam encourages. "Let's be clear, shield or no shield the only thing you're runnin' in here is your mouth." He's never been one to sugarcoat things, that's for sure. While you'd sat up, you haven't moved from your spot on the couch at the back of the apartment.

While the men talk, you're completely aware of Zemo's movements. Carrying the decanter and his half-full glass toward you, the mental eye roll is threatening to present itself physically.

"Now, I had Karli and you overstepped," Sam continues, now pointing toward Zemo. "Now, he's actually proven himself useful today. We'll need all hands on deck for whatever's comin' next."

"How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, Sam, huh?" John questions, an ominous tone in his voice that you don't like. And while it's hard to take your eyes off the sight before you, worried about how this'll all unfold, you glance over at Bucky. The Soldier is leaning against the counter, drink in hand. He must feel your stare as he meets your eye for a split second, and you know you're both curious and frustrated at how you're more than sure the conversation will play out.

John scoffs. "Yeah, should I put down the shield? Make it fair?" The amusement bleeding into his demeanor only irks you. While cockiness can be admirable on a man, there's also a fine line between prideful and egotistical. As Sam scoffs in response, John does exactly as he'd offered and puts his shield down against the pillar by the table.

"Holy shit!" You yell much louder than you'd intended. Jumping up out of instinct, there's now a spear embedded in the pillar where John's head had just been. Everyone's eyes fall to the woman who'd thrown it.

Yet, in the second you'd spotted her, there's two more similarly dressed women striding in through the apartment's open doors with spears in hand. You might not know much about the place or their customs, but you can guess they're the Wakandans. No one else speaks as the women stop just behind John and his friend, caging them in between your opposing groups.

One of them speaks up in a language you do not recognize. While you're unsure what they're saying, it's only when you look around at everyone that they say something in English. And that, you understand: "Release him to us now." It's a command, not a request. Their eyes fall onto Zemo who stands a few feet in front of you. Of course, you realize, he'd killed their leader... hadn't he?

"Hi," John says as he turns to greet them. "John Walker. Captain America," he introduces himself. "Well, let's uh, put down the pointy sticks and we can talk this through, huh?" Oh no... what'd he just say?!

"Hey John," Sam warns, "take it easy. You might wanna fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje." And while there's a hint of amusement seeped in his tone, you know he's not joking. A glance over at the Soldier tells you that he's mentally preoccupied. For whatever reason, he won't meet their gazes. What's there? Because there's clearly some history you're unaware of.

"The Dora Milaje don't have jurisdiction here," John voices in a tone that you can only attribute to the condescension of when someone manplains something to women. So, this is the Dora that Bucky had talked about earlier, then.

"And you do?" The words fall past your lips before you can stop them. You're not sure where your sudden bravery came from, but you're unwilling to go back now. Sam and the women gaze at you momentarily, though while John doesn't divert his attention, you can see the way his hand balls up into a fist at his side.

"The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be," the woman replies in a cold and menacing tone. The clock is ticking again, and you know the countdown to a fight is fastly approaching. You can just feel it.

Regardless of whether or not what the women are describing sounds awfully similar to hitmen and vigilante justice, you don't question it. If even Sam thinks they're more of a threat than Bucky, you're concerned. Certainly not people to be trifled with. Even when the Soldier had mentioned them earlier himself, he'd sounded worried in his own way.

"Okay," John responds with a wry laugh, "Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot." It's as if things happen in slow motion. You see John going in for a pat to her shoulder when she skirts out of his grasp and knocks his hand back with her spear in hand. Next she's hitting his forehead with it before kicking him backward into the spear already embedded into the pillar, effectively clotheslining him from behind.

That's when things flip. Suddenly, things are happening fast. John's on his stomach one second, then he has his shield. The woman does a flip over him, stabbing the shield before throwing her spear toward his friend. It almost hits his head, but another woman across the room catches it swiftly, swinging it around. The third woman is leaping over the couch and targeted on the Captain's friend.

Your heart is racing, adrenaline starting to kick in as you watch in trepidation. Zemo is standing there drinking, and Sam backs up to Bucky's side. "We should do something," Sam proposes. Yet, Bucky's still standing by the counter with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Looking strong, John," he jokes.

Wordless, you watch as the Captain's friend is being strangled by one of the woman's spears, trapped in a chokehold, while the other approaches him with her own spear at the ready. Simultaneously, John is still fighting the other woman, until he's not. On his knee, John's faced with a spear aimed right at him. Both men are teetering on the edge.

"Bucky," you hear Sam shout warningly.

It's only then as the spear's coming down on John that Bucky steps in. He says something, but you're distracted by the way the Captain's friend is in a losing fight.

"Let's talk about this," Bucky offers. As Sam steps in to protect the other man, you spot the subtle shift of Zemo's head and the way he puts down his drink. Nuh-uh. Not happening. Taking off in the direction he'd looked, you run toward the bathroom, Zemo hot on your trail.

You both knock shoulders as you make it to the door. Slipping in, he bumps you out of the way as he turns and locks the doors. "What're you doing?" He questions, a frantic look in his eye.

"I don't know!" You admit, eyes quickly searching his own for something, anything.

"If you're not here to help me, you're in my way," he warns. There's something foreboding in his tone, yet you're also highly aware that he is giving you an opportunity. "Please do not make this harder than it needs to be."

"You gonna knock me out again?" You question, a stern look on your face. No longer will you play nice.

Zemo scoffs, shaking his head as he rounds the bathtub. "I did not mean to do that. I was trying to stall you," he explains. "Help me." As he places his hands on the tub and begins to push, you might curiously question what his aim is, even if somehow you subconsciously know.

And maybe it's the fool in you, the hopeless romantic, or the little girl that could only dream of romance, passion, even simply an adventure beyond the confines of a book... but you help him. Breath held tight in your chest, it burns as you both push the tub aside, only to uncover a manhole. It'd been easier than you'd thought, but it weighed a ton.

"Honest?" You finally ask, wanting to know if any of it was real, or all a manipulation. His one chance at something good before his ultimate reprisal in prison.

"Honest," he responds, tone much gentler and sincere. Reminiscent of that night. A softness overtakes his features as he stares down at you, and you can feel the vulnerability of everything shining through your irises back at him. "Even if we disagree on the method, I believe there is more in common between us than you'd ever care to admit to them."

"I know," you whisper, taking a step closer toward him. He doesn't retreat, but stays put, his hazel eyes searching yours for something, even if you're not quite sure what.

"Unfortunately, there was never going to be another outcome," he admits, "Otherwise, I would've liked to explore," he seems to struggle for the appropriate word, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, "this."

"Me too," you reply, a sadness building within your chest and making your face feel hot for some reason.

"I'm afraid this is goodbye, Liebling." With that, he stoops, angling your face upward to meet his lips. It's a firm, chaste press of your lips against one another. Your hands find his biceps, only for him to part from you. The hand that'd been on your cheek swiftly pushes your hair backward over your ear, fingers trailing through your hair.

"Goodbye, Helmut," you whisper, watching him retreat down the ladder of metal bars into the tunnel. There's one last look shared between the two of you before he takes off. His boots thud against the concrete, splashes echoing only for a moment before a loud crash elicits a gasp from you.

Turning toward the door, you brace for it to be knocked down, landing on your knees. There's a rush of wind, and you cover your face with your arm. "Where is he?!" Lowering your arm again, your stomach sinks with dread. It's her. The leader of the Dora Milaje.

"I- I don't-" you stutter, kneeling on the ground above the opened manhole.

"You let him-" she begins to accuse, twirling her spear in hand.

"I tried to stop him!" You yell in response. "He went that way." Pointing down the hole, you can only pray she doesn't kill you here and now.

"She's on our side," Bucky calls out, causing the woman to stop. Turning, she walks back out, expression unreadable. It sits somewhere between stoicism and anger, a look eerily similar to ones you've seen on Bucky. Maybe that's where he'd gotten it from. Just a thought.

"He is gone. Leave it," the Dora commands, striding toward where you know the apartment's front door is. The other Dora throws down the shield before following suit. A heavy sigh leaves your lips and you stare down the manhole, unsure what to think. You'd just helped an international terrorist escape custody. And he kissed you!

"Did you know they could do that?" You hear Sam ask. Finally turning your attention away from what'd just happened, you stand, dusting off your pants. While many thoughts and emotions run through your body, there'll be time to process what'd just happened later.

Watching Bucky reattach his arm to his body, your lips part in shock. It'd never crossed your mind, you hadn't even thought... "No," Bucky responds, a faint groan slipping past his lips as he moves his fingers, testing his arm, you suspect.

"You alright, man?" The Captain's friend asks as he comes to stand over John's shoulder, the man still kneeling where you assume he'd been beaten down. Slowly moving to the doorway of the bathroom, you try not to let your thoughts continue to cloud your mind.

"They weren't even Super Soldiers," John points out in a defeated tone. The man's practically despondent, and you can't necessarily blame him. For someone who's supposed to be Captain America, he got his ass whooped.

"That was my question, yeah," you add, quietly. It'd crossed your mind when you'd seen that woman flip so effortlessly into the air. Considering your mission and everything that's been going on, it only made sense.

"Come on," John's friend encourages him, helping the man up off the floor.

As both Bucky and Sam approach you, you turn sideways to allow them a view of the bathroom. "I can't believe he really had an escape hatch," you state. It's earnest, even if you might've aided in permitting the escape to take place.

"I can't believe he pulled an El Chapo," Sam comments, staring at the scene.

"I can," Bucky states in his usual stoicism. "Come on," he demands.

Out on the streets of Latvia, you have no clue where Bucky's leading you all, yet you aimlessly follow anyway. A sudden ringing elicits your attention, Sam has a phone call. While you can't hear what's being said, you try to piece together what's happening based off his response to it.

"She said what?! Right. Hold on, hold on, I know," he states firmly, "I know. Listen, pack an overnight bag and take the boys. I'll text you directions later."

"What happened?" Bucky asks, and while you both stare at Sam with concern, distress evident in his voice, you hadn't had the balls to ask.

"Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews," Sam responds before lifting the phone back up again. "Okay. Go somewhere safe, only pay cash. Alright? Let me know when you get there." There's a pause, Sarah obviously having concerns. "I know. Look, I love you. I'll never let anything happen to you or the boys, you know that. Okay. Bye."

As his phone call ends, Sam comes to a halt, the three of you stepping to the side of the sidewalk. "Karli wants to meet. She left a contact number," Sam states, lifting his phone again. This time you're able to see what's on his screen. It's a text exchange with an unknown number.

'This is Sam. Sarah told me you want to talk.' reads the sent text. A ping rings out as a reply comes through. 'The rooftop above North Plaza. Now. Come alone.'

"Crap," Sam curses under his breath. With a click of his phone the screen darkens and he tucks it back into his pocket. Finally raising his head again he turns his attention to you. "Look," he states your name, "I know things didn't exactly go as planned here, but I need a favor. Go to the airport, get on a plane, and head to Louisiana." He shakes his head slightly before putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. "I need Buck here, and I don't know exactly how this is all gonna go down, so, if you wouldn't mind checking on Sarah for me, I'll owe you one."

It's a request. Albeit, no true upward inflection to indicate so, but... a question nonetheless. One you can't really, nor would, decline. "Yeah, I'll go, make sure they're okay." Offering him a small smile, he mirrors it back.

"Just... stay with them, if you can, till I get back. I don't think it'll be more than a few days, and, please, God, don't tell Sarah I sent you. She'd have my head! Woman can take care of herself, Lord knows," Sam chuckles at the thought.

"Got it," you respond, smile widening at the thought. Sam had mentioned her a few times, so you'd heard a few great and funny stories. Meeting her in person though? That might be another thing. Regardless, if Sam is as good of a person as he is, then she'll probably be the same.

"I'll tell her you're coming, she'll be at the airport waiting," he assures you. With that, you hug the man before eyeing Bucky. The Soldier doesn't seem like the hugging type, but you offer him a smile and nod.

"Just... talk to her. End this, and... be safe, okay?" You beg, starting to walk backward away from them.

"We'll do our best," Bucky responds, a knowing smile on his lips. With that, it seems like your time in Latvia has come to an end. Onto the next thing. Louisiana, here you come!

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @penelopepine , @moonlightsolo

tmt taglist: @wheres-mylove , @ashy-kit , @the-light-of-earendil

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

The Real America's Ass

Sam Wilson x reader

Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Sam is insecure about being Captain America, reader reassures him

A/N: Requests are open! Check my masterlist for characters/fandoms I write for

Warnings: Body worship, cock worship, ass biting, insecure!Sam, little bit of angst, captain kink, oral (m receiving)

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

The house was silent as Y/N returned home. They threw their keys in the little bowl by the door, wincing as the clatter broke the silence. An air of sadness had settled over the house, making their brow furrow in confusion.

“Babe? You home?” A muffled ‘in here’ came from the garage/workshop. Sam was sitting on one of the benches, staring at the shield in front of him. “I don’t think that thing is going to give you the answers to life my love.” They expected him to turn and give them a playful glare but he just remained in place, sighing quietly.

They stepped forward and wrapped their arms around his strong shoulders, burying their face in his neck and giving him a small kiss. “What’s going on?” “I’m not worthy of it. I’m not like him, I can never be him.” They rounded the bench and took his face in their hands, lifting his chin up so they could look into those gorgeous brown eyes. “What are you talking about Sam?”

He tried to move his head out of their grasp but they held firm, not budging an inch. They raised a single eyebrow and watched as the fight faded in his eyes. “I just, I-“ Tears gathered along his water line, a couple fat drops spilling over which Y/N immediately ripped away. “Tell me what’s wrong baby.” “Steve gave me the shield when he retired, and I can never be him. I can’t pick up that mantle. I’m not strong enough.” “Oh my love, Steve would’ve never given you that shield if he didn’t believe in you and consider you to be the best person for the job.

“Besides, who else would he have given it to? Bucky?” That made Sam chuckle, “You are a good man Samuel Thomas Wilson. Steve saw that, Bucky sees that, I see it. You deserve this shield and I know if he was here, Riley would agree with me too.” He was full-on crying now, but his shoulders were slumped as if a huge weight had been lifted off of them. He brought his partner into a tight hug, burying his face in their neck. “Thank you. But I-” “Alright, come on Cap, we have something we have to do.”

They took his hand and dragged him through the house. Their bedroom took up the entire top floor of the quant house and perfectly overlooked the secluded lake they lived in. Y/N loved waking up in the morning to see the sun rising over the water as their husband slept peacefully on their chest. But the view they had now was even better.

They had shoved Sam on the bed after removing his shirt so his toned chest and ripped abs were on display for them. They kissed down his body, nipping his perfect skin as they mapped a path down his torso. “You’re so perfect Sam. So amazing. So kind. So gentle. So hot.” He moaned, the sound coming from deep within his chest as they circled his nipple with their tongue and lightly biting down, just hard enough for his hips to jerk upwards.

“God baby please.” Y/N ignored his pleas, continuing to worship every inch of skin before them. “You always take such good care of me. It’s my turn now. Let me love my husband the way he deserves. Until he believes me when I tell him that he is worthy, more worthy than he thinks.” But despite their words, they took pity on him, slowly dragging the waistband of those delectable grey sweatpants down his thick thighs. His cock smacked against his lower stomach, leaving droplets of pre-cum on the little trail of dark hair below his belly button.

Y/N moaned at the 9 thick inches of pure pleasure that had just enough curve to it that every time he thrust into them, he hit the exact right spot. “Such a pretty cock baby. The prettiest I’ve ever seen and it’s all mine.” A devious smirk was all the warning Sam got before Y/N took his cock completely down their throat. “Holy fuck!” His body hinged forward, curling around his spouse’s head, as if trying to keep them in place.

Sweat dripped down his back as they worked his length perfectly. They licked the little spot on the underside of his dick, just below the tip while one hand fondled his balls. Sam shuttered at the feeling. He was almost never vocal in bed, only really speaking dirty phrases into their ear and giving soft groans as he neared his end but now, as his perfect, gorgeous partner gagged on him but refused to relent, his moans rang through the house, his voice getting deeper as he got closer.

His legs shook as their nails dragged down his thighs, cutting into him as an attempt to stop choking on his massive cock. “Baby stop, I wanna make you feel good too.” They came up for air but continued to stroke him with their hand. “Not today. Today is all about you. My incredible husband, let me worship you.” With that, they returned to sucking him off. His cock twitched wildly in their mouth, his balls tightening up as his orgasms grew and grew. “Baby I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for me. Come on Captain, give it to me.” He growled at the name, hips canting upwards, chasing the tightness of their fist while they nibbled on his earlobe and spoke filthy praises into his ear. “You’re so brave, so strong. Such an amazing man. I have no idea how I got lucky enough to marry you. You’re my soulmate captain, the love of my life. Cum for me, let go.”

“Fuuuuuucckkkkk!” Hot ropes of cum coated Y/N’s hand as they worked him through his high, slowly loosening their grip when he became too sensitive. They kissed his cheek. “I love you Sam.” He sagged back onto the pillows, chuckling breathlessly. “If that’s what I get for being insecure, I’m definitely not going to take that shield.” Y/N glared at him. “Oh baby, that was a one time thing. Next time you question your worth, I’m using those ropes you love to use on me to tie you up and edge you for hours.” The serious expression on their face stopped Sam’s laugh in his throat.

“Damn you are scary.” “Damn right I am. Now turn over, I have something I need to do.” He looked at them confused but obeyed anyway. Once he was flat on his front, Y/N bent over and bit one of his ass cheeks. Sam yelped. “What the hell was that for?!”

“I’m sorry but America’s ass just looked so delectable.” And all of a sudden, the air of sadness in the house disappeared and was replaced by Sam’s laughter and unconditional love.

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Return

Sam Wilson x Friend!Reader, Zemo x Reader, Bucky x Reader

Part 1

By : @pusantheamazonian

beta'd: @2cciberrylee

Standing at the top of the jet’s stairs, heavy bags in his hands. An irritated Bucky glances back at Sam. 

"She's a kid. How is she going to help?" Growling the question out.

"We could use another set of eyes on Zemo. Besides, I've had her on a job before." Sam informs firmly.

Bucky enters the jet ignoring Zemo, sitting at the back. He throws the bags at the closest seat possible. "So in the process, we're going to make her a wanted criminal  too. Good plan Sam, very fucking good one." 

"Can you just go wait with him? I'll be back with her in a minute." Sam exasperatedly points to Zemo, making his way back down the steps.

An interesting turn of events. Zemo wonders exactly who you are. Since this is a different type of argument between Sam and James.

Waiting on the tarmac alone in the middle of nowhere. It's weird but Sam told you to wait here. So you stayed right here for hours awkwardly standing with just a backpack. 

You're just excited to be working with him again. Since he joined the Avengers you've had hardly any time to hang out. Just the occasional text to let you know he's still alive. 

Knowing that Bucky will also be there makes you jittery. During the last few months, you have developed a crush on him. This puzzled you because you didn't know how to express your feelings plus, couldn't exactly identify what drew you to him. Bucky is coming to terms with his own traumas; finding peace within himself, and starting to live his own life on his terms. So expressing your feelings of love or at least intense attraction will be too much for him to handle and he may reject you. On top of that, his body language is hard to read. A brick wall that you have to keep chipping at. That is why you prefer to enjoy every moment with him. You remember every detail about him; you miss the sounds of his voice and the feeling of his presence when he is gone.  

“Y/N!" 

Jolted out of your daydream, Sam is waving his hands in the air.

"Sam!" You are nearly jumping out of your skin when you see Sam cross the terminal to get you.

"It's good to see you." Sam wraps you in a big bear hug. The kind of hug that makes you feel safe and loved. He hugs you with his whole body making the hug warm and snuggly too. 

"I've missed these hugs." Groaning you don't want it to end.

"Last chance to cash out. Are you sure you want to help? It's going to be dangerous."

Sam takes your backpack.

"Yes, I'm sure. I don't see why you're being so secretive about needing my help. I've helped plenty of times with your projects." You bump into his arm on purpose. 

"This is different. Bucky's waiting with our current project. We need his help but he's a liability." Trying not to frown, he's not happy about the arrangement.

"Oh. So you think he might make a break for it?"

"Something like that." Sam leads you up the stairs and into a private jet. "Meet our-"

"Y/N? Long time no see." Zemo smiles, interrupting Sam.

You recognize this voice from anywhere. Keeping your composure, you struggle forcing yourself to keep a blank face. You slowly turn to look and glare daggers into him. Your body doesn't know whether to cry or throw up from this confusion.

"You know each other?" Sam questions pointing at Zemo.

"We've met. Briefly." You give a slight frown trying to remain neutral. You can physically feel the cold glare from Bucky. 

"Are you serious?" Surprised, Sam is having a hard time believing this.

"Unfortunately yes." Sighing you turn away from Zemo, making sure Sam has your full focus.

"I wouldn't say, unfortunately." Zemo chuckles.

"Quiet." Bucky growls.

"Is there any other bullshit I need to know besides this? How in the hell did he end up being with you?" Gesturing at Zemo. "Ain't he supposed to be underwater somewhere?"

"It's complicated. You can thank Bucky for that." Being childish Sam quickly points at Bucky.

Pinching the bridge of your nose. You quickly go over the pros and cons of just ditching them. But your loyalty to Sam and Bucky wins you over. This trip is going to be painful because either way Sam and Bucky are going to want to know how you know Zemo. 

"Let's get this over with." Sighing you take your backpack back and toss it to the side and buckle in. Making sure to keep your distance. 

God, you should have just stayed in bed.

~

What the fuck has happened? In a matter of hours the trio of untraceable got caught in their bullshit. Letting the whole island know of their presence. Beginning the reign of bounty hunters wanting their heads. And you are now part of that crossfire. Guess this is what Sam meant when he said it was going to be dangerous.

This wasn't the kind of bullshit you were expecting. This is way above your pay grade. But are you surprised? No. Should you be? Yes. Then to add to the bullshit. Sharon. Personally, you don't know her. The timing with her feels weird. But Sam seems excited? Happy? It's a weird situation. You feel jealous for some reason. Like she doesn't deserve his happiness but Sam is a happy person by nature.

Though Sharon brings the four of you to her place. Talking about this and that. Obviously trying to egg Sam and Bucky on about something. Bucky looks more pissed off than normal at the situation.

"I don't like her." Finally Sharon leaves and you can't help yourself.

"She did just save our lives." Sam sighs.

"So. That doesn't mean shit." Folding your arms, you're ready to list off all the reasons why. You can tell Sam is not liking your new attitude. Not that you can help it. Your nerves are shot and everyone is out to get them.

"Why? You don't know her." Sam groans.

"I don't know. Something just feels off about her. I can understand doing what you have to, to live here but it's not that. Feels like something worse."

"You should always go with your gut feeling." Zemo chimes in. The three of you just look at him.

"I'm going upstairs." Shaking your head you quickly disappear, trying to maintain distance from Zemo.

Watching you disappear Sam and Bucky surround Zemo before he can move.

"How do you know Y/N?" Sam stops him, a hand on his chest pushing Zemo back.

"Does it really matter to you?"

"Cut the crap. How?" Bucky snaps.

"Sorry gentleman. It is not my place to say." Zemo smugly grins.

Agreeing to go to Sharon's stupid party. You're perched in the corner, hiding your laugh behind a drink. You watch Zemo from a distance as he dances. That man still dances awkwardly. But you got to give him credit, he doesn't care if he's a bad dancer.

Speak of the devil. He's maneuvered his way through the crowd to your hiding spot.

"Care to dance?" 

"No." Frowning, it's hard avoiding his gaze.

"It's a party, you should relax." Turning on the charm Zemo slides I to the seat beside you. 

"You know I don't dance." Annoyed, you start swirling your drink. 

In bold, brash Zemo fashion he snatches your drink and takes a sip. "How can you keep an eye on me if you are over here and not on the dance floor?"

"I can see just fine from here." Snatching your drink back. 

"Are you sure?" 

Smug bastard.

Groaning you know he's right. It would be easy for him to duck out of sight while on the dance floor. Finishing your drink you gesture for him to lead the way. Weaving through the crowd he stops in the middle of the dance floor.

"Are you sure you don't want to dance? You are very noticeable just standing there."

Irked, you start to mimic some of his dancing moves. Unenthusiastically bouncing from foot to foot.

"See Y/N. Dancing is fun." An almost genuine smile appears.

"You're just trying to annoy Sam and Bucky." 

Zemo smirks, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer. An arm wraps around your waist, holding you close.

"The boys are getting suspicious. They asked how I knew you." He whispers in your ear before carefully spinning you in a circle.

"What?"

Before you can process what he said. Zemo is pulling you back in for another spin.

"Don't worry, too much frowning will cause wrinkles. I told them to ask you." 

"How considerate."

"I always am."

Scoffing it feels like nothing has changed between you two. You don't know what makes you angrier; the complete ease of being near him again or the lack of true hatred for him because of the crimes he has done.

Underneath it all, the moment makes you homesick for what you had and what could have been.

~

Finally getting some useful information. Sam and Bucky loosely agree on a plan. 

“Y/N you on lookout duty.” Sam orders.

“Okie dokie.” Saluting him you turn and head for higher ground with coverage.

Positioned atop a shipping container with binoculars. Scanning the area it seems quiet, too quiet. There's no one to be seen. Wouldn't even just a normal shipping yard have a few people roaming around? 

“Shit!” 

Out of nowhere there’s a fireball explosion off to the side. You can vaguely make out a masked man on top of a shipping container but through your binoculars you know that fucking fur collar coat anywhere. 

Damn it Zemo. You're going to strangle him before this mission is done. 

"Guys you have incoming and a fireball explosion." Radioing Sam and Bucky, you've lost sight of Zemo.

Making it to the ground you start running to the entrance. But you're intercepted by Zemo in a car. How did he have time to find a car?

"What the fuck was that?" You gesture at the fire still blazing high. 

"Don't worry about it Y/N. All part of the plan." Dismissing your question, he leans over to open the door.

“Part of the plan? Creating a giant explosion was part of the plan?”

“Yes. Now if you will get in the car we have to pick up Sam and James.” 

Against your better judgement you sit down in the front seat next to him. "Where did you steal the car from?"

"I found it. As they say finders keepers." Smirking, he gives a wink. 

"You're ridiculous, I hope you know that." With a scoff you close the door.

"You mean sophisticated and eccentric."

"Not what I would have chosen." Mumbling, you root through the glove box. Trying to find any indication of who this car really belongs to but that's a dead end. There's nothing in it. Meaning he’s already thought about that or there never was anything in it. 

"There they are!" Pointing up ahead you can see Sam and Bucky looking confused.

"Hello gentlemen. Do you need a ride?"

"Where did you get a car?" Both shouting in unison as Zemo puts the car in park.

"Don't ask." Rolling your eyes, you wave the question off before Zemo can speak. That's a conversation that doesn't need repeating."Just get in."

[fckwritersblock]

WIPS 12/22/21

Hey babes! I know it’s been a while. But my name is my name for this exact reason. Fuck writers block, am I right?. Plus you know, life and shit because adulting is fun all the time but here we are! I have been writing like crazy and I have a few works I hope will be complete by this weekend that I can post.

I’ve Got It Bad ( Part 2 )| Riven x Reader | Fate: Winx Club POSTED

Riven finally gets the courage to tell you how he feels after speaking to your sister and getting her approval.

It’s Okay… | Epps | Transformers: Dark of The Moon

Epps asked you not to fight. He asked you to promise him. That you would wait for him to come back to you, because he promised he would return, And not dare step foot into the chaos that was Washington DC. But once a soldier, always a soldier.

Greatest Good | Sam Wilson | The Falcon & The Winter Soilder

The two of you had plans. Tonight was date night and boy was it long overdue. However there’s always something that needs to be avenged right?

Feel My Love | Atticus “Tic” Freeman | Lovecraft Country ( SMUT)

The lies, and eminent danger your life has been put in because of this man we’re all piling up. If it wasn’t one thing it was another. You were scared, angry, and the most recent emotion. Well, you’d been feeling…in love. In turn, that new feeling well the exact reason for your current state of jealousy. Tic plans to help you take your mind off the madness, if only for a moment.

Please? | Bucky Barnes | The Falcon & The Winter Soilder POSTED

 After a heated argument between the two of you,  one where the words exchanged were better left unsaid, has left your apartment leaving the two of you unsure of where you stood in each others lives. Now, all Bucky wants to do, is be done with this John Walker business so he can come home to you and tell you how he really feels.

When A Woman’s Fed Up | Rio | Good Girls

It was real simple. Rio had fucked up. Again. And you are all the fucking way over it.

There are a few more but those are the next three I’ll be posting. As well as the next chapter to my Killmonger fic Runnin’ Me Dry - Chapter 7 POSTED

I have also wanted to write a soulmate AU. So if any of you guys have any ideas, feel free to send me request. I have room for three at the moment without completely overwhelming myself and sinking into a deep dark hole of ‘oh my fuck’. 😅

- Mo 💕



[writingtoforgetreality]

Gold Rush (Sebastian Stan x Reader)

[Actors-Masterlist]

Gold Rush [1] / You’re Not Sorry [2] / This Is Me Trying [3] / [4] (soon)

Summary: Your career was blossoming, especially with your new role in “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier”. Working on set was a dream come true. It was never your intention to fall for one of your coworkers. Not when you knew that he would never look at you that way.

Words: 2,637

Warnings: language, it’s Anthony Mackie’s world & we’re just living in it, angst, feeeeeels, maybe I cried, maybe I didn’t, we’ll never know, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Inspired by: “gold rush” by Taylor Swift

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Gleaming, twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships on waters

So inviting, I almost jump in

You scored big time when you were casted in the upcoming Marvel series “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier”. Working alongside Anthony Mackie & Sebastian Stan had been more than you had ever wished for. The atmosphere on set was harmonious. Everything would have been fine if it were not for your stupid crush on your fellow castmate. Mackie picked up on the fact that you liked Sebastian almost immediately & he teased you about it one too many times. No matter how obvious his teasing, it seemed like Sebastian was completely oblivious to it. Or he acted as if he had no clue. You were not quite sure about that.

The press tour was going strong, which meant that Seb, Mackie & you were teamed up for every interview. Now, that was not something that bothered you too much. After all, you were more than comfortable around them. But when some interviewers did not know where the line was, you got frustrated. Like, okay, we got it. Everyone with eyes knew Seb was hot. But as an interviewer, you should know when to stop. Shamelessly flirting in front of the camera with basically a stranger? Sorry, but you had no explanation for such a behavior. Yes, some interviewers flirted with you, too. But you were great when it came to brushing them off while staying polite. Of course, Mackie’s teasing did not make this any easier for you. Every now & then, he would bring up the chemistry you & Seb shared on screen. And off screen. Like usual, you laughed at him & so did Seb. During interviews, you teased each other a lot, it was a playful manner you all enjoyed. And the audience loved the three of you for it.

Sometimes, when Seb answered a question that had him explain scenes with you or something similar, you hated the butterflies you felt inside. You hated how your cheeks warmed up. You hated that he had such an effect on you. You hated Seb. You hated him for being so perfect. You hated him for being a literal God. You hated him for ruining every other man for you. Because nobody could ever compare to him. And you said that even though you were not even in a relationship. Hell, you were not the only person who looked at him that way. If the interviews were not proof enough, a look at social media did the job, too.

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

Walk past, quick brush

I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

Everybody wants you

But I don't like a gold rush

“So (Y/N)…” the man sitting opposite of you started. It was not a lot of times that questions were directed at you. Usually, people were more excited to talk to the guys. No offense taken. “The chemistry between Sebastian & you can be felt even after such a short trailer. My question is…are you two, like, a thing?” of course. If you got a question, it was about your love life or about how great you looked in your suit. The others got complex & well thought through questions & you got this shit. Internally rolling your eyes, you stayed professional & answered casually.

“Sebby & I are friends. We work well together. We know each other well enough to communicate with our eyes, body language & so on. Some people mistake that for dating, apparently.” finishing off with a sarcastic chuckle, you had to hide the fact that you wished that there was more between you two.

“I gotta say. Even I think they’re dating sometimes.” Mackie smirked when he spoke up which earned him a light slap from you. Seb only hid his face behind his hand & laughed quietly. It was nothing new. You were used to his teasing by now. Looking over at Seb, you could not help but admire him. Even when he was embarrassed, to you, he was the most beautiful person on this planet. Not a single flaw. Just…perfect. If only you had enough courage to do something about your damn feelings.

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominoes

I see me padding across your wooden floors

With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door

“Stop that.” Mackie walked over to where you were sitting. Finally, you had a break after hours of giving interview after interview. Looking up, your face turned into one of pure confusion.

“Stop what?” he exaggeratedly rolled his eyes at your question.

“The daydreaming.” it was a simple statement. But why would he tell you to stop that?

“What? Is it forbidden to daydream now?” chuckling at him, you offered him one of your coffee cups. Your handler brought you two because you had not slept much that night. But Mackie needed one just as much & he gladly accepted it. Still, he could tell that you were trying to change the topic. Not with him, though. Sitting beside you, he sighed loudly.

“Why don’t you just tell him?” he looked straight forward when he asked that question. Your face fell at his words but maybe, maybe, if you played dumb, you could get out of this conversation without any awkwardness.

“Tell who what?” your innocent eyes bore into his side profile & you saw him shaking his head slightly. A low chuckle escaped him.

“Tell Seb you like him or I will.” he stated & your eyes widened in fear.

“You wouldn’t dream of it.” exclaiming frantically, you grew more nervous at the thought.

“I wouldn’t trust that thought.” & after a few seconds of silence, you breathed out loudly.

“Yeah, sure. And I’d risk our friendship for that? Forget it.”

“He likes you, too, you know?” he casually stated. Your face changed, but only for a second. He was wrong. Someone like Seb could never like you back.

“Stop, Mackie. Don’t just run around assuming shit.” you pushed his shoulder playfully but it did not do too much. What a surprise.

“My running around assuming shit isn’t assuming. It’s facts. You guys are awful, by the way. It’s exhausting, watching you two trying to dodge your feelings. Why can’t you just, I don’t know, get everything sorted out & be happy together? If someone deserves that, it’s you.” yes, Mackie could be sarcastic but when push came to shove, he could be serious, too. And that last part, he meant by heart. Was it true? Did Seb like you? More than a friend? Maybe you should just tell him. Life was too short to be filled with what if’s. It was now or never, right?

At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit

And the coastal town we wandered 'round had never seen a love as pure as it

And then it fades into the gray of my day-old tea

'Cause it could never be

Wrapping up for today, the three of you decided to grab some take-out & eat it back inside your hotel. After quickly showering & dressing more comfortably, you made your way over to Seb’s room. Mackie was already there, he texted you at least ten times to hurry up because they were starving to death. Dramatic diva. Knocking softly, a smile spread across your face when Seb opened the door. Stepping aside to let you in, you greeted Mackie briefly. He was already eating so why the hell was he rushing you earlier? He could be such a child. Seb handed you your food & motioned for you to take a seat on the bed. Take-out in a hotel bed? It should be illegal. Usually, you were not one for eating in bed but whenever you where staying at a hotel, it became some sort of a routine for you. Same for the guys. For a while, the three of you just talked & ate your food. Conversation always flowed easily with them. You knew all of their secrets & they knew all of yours. Well, except for Seb having no clue about your silly crush on him. When he & Mackie discussed a topic you did not know too much about to actually engage in their conversation, you found yourself stealing glances at Seb. If it were not enough for him to be so gorgeous, of course he had the best personality to match that. God really took his time with him. And the weirdest thing of it all was that Seb never let that thought get the best of him. He was aware of people admiring him but that never changed him.

'Cause I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

Walk past, quick brush

I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

Everybody wants you

But I don't like a gold rush

Mackie got a phone call & said goodbye to you before leaving the room. Which meant that Seb & you were alone. It was nothing special, the two of you spent a lot of time together. This time, though, you wanted to confess to him. Finally, you wanted to tell him how you felt. Could you live with the rejection? Well, if things turned in that direction, you had no choice but to. Seb’s lips moved but no sound came out. You zoned out & simply stared at him. Your thoughts were running wild. The sun had already started setting & the golden light illuminated his features in such a beautiful way. It almost looked like a movie scene. He was the masterpiece others could not keep their eyes from. You were this close to speaking up, taking a deep breath for preparation. This could change your bond with him forever.

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominoes

My mind turns your life into folklore

I can't dare to dream about you anymore

A phone ringing interrupted you. It was not yours. But Seb pulled his phone out of his pocket. The moment he saw the notification, he started smiling so brightly. The smile you had grown to love so much. It brought a grin to your face, too. The things this man could do to you, completely unaware of the effect he had on you.

“What?” you asked when he could not stop staring at his phone. Had Mackie sent him a message?

“Nothing, it’s just…” he stopped before saying too much but you were having none of it.

“Aw, come on, Sebby. You can tell me anything.” encouraging him, your hand found its way on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. Seb seemed almost shy right now. And this was weird because he usually was everything but shy when he talked to you.

“There’s this girl & she’s just…amazing.” your face fell the moment he started talking. No. “I asked her for dinner but when she hadn’t replied after hours, I started losing hope. She just messaged me back.” his smile was sheepish & you hated that you had to admit that he looked happy right now. Genuinely happy. But you were not the reason of his happiness. Another girl was.

“And? What did she say?” deep down, you knew the answer & you actually did not want him to say it out loud. But you were best friends, after all, it was kind of your duty.

“I got myself a date. I’m going on a date with her, (Y/N)!” he beamed & pulled you into a big hug. One, that made the butterflies act out. Fuck, that hurt.

“That’s great, Sebby. I’m happy for you! You deserve it.” your excitement for him was fake but the sincerity behind your last words were not. If one person on this planet deserved endless love & happiness, it was him. Mackie was wrong. Seb had never liked you. Not in that way, at least. And his date saved you from embarrassing yourself & ruining your friendship. That did not change the fact that you felt like crying right now. You could not shed tears in front of him, could not show how much it actually affected you. No. You had to fake a smile. And that shit hurt like a bitch.

At dinner parties I won't call you out on your contrarian shit

And the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure as it

'Cause it fades into the gray of my day-old tea

'Cause it will never be

“Something’s wrong with you.” Mackie stated at breakfast. No shit, Sherlock.

“What makes you think that?” feigning innocence, you rolled your eyes when you saw the look he was giving you.

“Clearly, you’re upset. Did something happen after I left you with Seb yesterday?” he hit the nail on the head with his assumption.

“Yeah.” was all you answered. His eyebrows raised, he waited for you to continue. But when he noticed that you were not planning on engaging in any more conversation with him, he pressed further.

“Did you tell him? Did he mess up?” if Seb messed up, he would kill him. There was no other person who was better for him than you. The two of you deserved each other. And everyone seemed to realize that but you.

“I wanted to tell him.” admitting quietly.

“But?”

“He got a notification.” your short answers made Mackie freak out. He grew frustrated with you when you dragged out this entire conversation.

“(Y/N), come on.” he urged.

“Sebby has a date.”

“With you? But that’s great.” his smile was small but present. Did you finally realize that you were feeling so much more for each other?

“With another girl.” then you looked up at his face, your eyes glossy. Clearly, you were trying to keep it together but he could tell that you had a hard time doing so. Yes, Mackie would kill Seb. He could have sworn that Seb only had eyes for you. The stolen glances, the efforts to make time to spend more with you. What the fuck was going on? When he saw your first tear falling, he wasted no time in pulling you in for a hug. You were broken, all because of one man. But the thing was that he was not just any man. He was Seb. Your best friend. Your everything. But he would never be yours. Not in a million years. Because he only saw you as a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was not like you did not have options. Hell, you declined so many people over the time. All because of him. And you were afraid that this would not change anytime soon. Because you did not think you would ever get over him. Your heart was ripped into a million pieces & the only person who could help you fix it was getting excited over his upcoming date. Whatever you thought could be between you guys, it was nothing but a dream. Something that could never be.

Gleaming, twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships on waters

So inviting, I almost jump in

Gold Rush [1] / You’re Not Sorry [2] / This Is Me Trying [3] / [4] (soon)

Published (04/22/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @buckysleftarm420 (thanks for your support <3)

[infernal-fire]

I Can Save Everyone But Myself (2/3)

Warnings: fluff, angst, strong language, mentioned sexual themes, sort of CA: TWS and Far From Home spoilers.

Please do not interact with this blog if you are under the age of 18. Your media consumption is your responsibility.

Summary: Fighting the bad guys comes easy to James Buchanan Barnes. What will end him, is the fight against his will to be with you. 

Word Count: 2200

Here’s Part 1 in case you missed it. 

(This GIF does not belong to me)

The next day, Sam took Bucky to the barber and fixed up his hair. Sam was convinced Bucky was backtracking on his recovery which was going smoothly up till this point.

The car ride back to their place was quiet. Bucky looked out the window, subconsciously rubbing the nape of his neck, looking for the lost hair. 

“Why’d you do that man.”

Bucky looked straight ahead and lowered his eyes after a moment. “Don’t say I don’t know dude, I will punch you” Sam warned. 

“I didn’t grow out my hair willingly. I just never got to cut it when I was with HYDRA.” 

Sam drove without replying. They both knew he was lying. 

“You cut it because she said liked your hair.”

“Maybe.”

The car pulled over to the side of the road and a surprised Bucky turned to look at an exasperated Sam. “Why won’t you let yourself be happy? You know she likes you. What you’re doing is going to push her away.” Sam berated. He held the steering wheel and dropped his forehead onto it with a light thud. 

“I don’t want to hurt her,” Bucky mumbled.

“I’m done tryna’ convince you to move on from things that you had no control over. Come on. Just ask her out or something and if it doesn’t work out then it doesn’t. She’s not the type to make it weird if it doesn’t work out,” Sam pleaded. He couldn’t help but feel like everything he was saying was going through one ear and coming out the other. 

“I don’t deserve her love Sam. I’m so fucked up, I have so many of my problems that I don’t want to drag her into.” Bucky sighed. At this point, he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince his friend or himself. 

“I’m not saying you should pick her up and take her to the altar. All I need you to do is acknowledge to her that there is something more than friendship between you guys. Please Buck, man, don’t let something good go to waste.”

That was the end of the conversation. Sam could tell that only parts of what he said made into his friend’s thick skull. Bucky was too stubborn for his own good.  

///

The next time you saw Bucky was during the mission briefing. You were surprised to see he cut his hair. Regardless, you complimented him.

“Sweet look, Buck.”

Bucky involuntarily beamed at you and you grinned back. You sat down, waiting for Fury to begin the debriefing. He tried not to make it obvious, but Sam noticed his friend lose brain cells over deciding where to sit. He nudged him in Y/N’s direction and took his own seat, waiting to see if he would listen to him and sit beside her. 

Bucky considered his options again before sitting far away from Y/N. Sam smacked his forehead and groaned. 

“Don’t start groaning just yet,” Fury chuckled as he entered the room. The debriefing began and Nick rambled on, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how Buck chose to sit away from you. 

“And we have an unofficial new addition to the Avengers. His name is Mysterio, and he is currently working with Peter Parker to stop the Elementals,” Maria Hill announced “The final Elemental is what we’ll need help fighting against.” 

The three of you looked at each before Sam spoke up. 

“What can a super soldier, a bird-man and an assassin do to stop an elemental monster?”

“Mysterio will be leading the mission. He has dealt with this before and has an idea of how you can help. You’re flying to London and you leave tonight.” Fury concluded and dismissed everyone. 

That night, everyone regrouped at the quinjet and put away their belongings in overhead cabins. You struggled to put up your luggage and Bucky watched. He wanted to come over and help, he really did; but it was best if he just stayed away. “Bucky?” your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

“Can you..” you gestured at your suitcase. “Uh no, I’m… busy” he blurted before walking off to the front of the jet. 

“Ignore that idiot” Sam interrupted and helped you. “Did I do something Sam?” you asked. 

“It’s nothing Y/N, he’s just being weird. This is why I don’t take him out in public” he laughed and you awkwardly laughed along. Your anxiety grew as you thought back to anything you may have done that set Buck off. 

You couldn’t be happier to land, stretching as you got out. You gathered your belongings and made your way to the hotel. 

“Y/N! Wait!” Sam called after you. 

“Mission is in 2 days. You wanna’ check out the bars nearby?”

You thought about it before agreeing. It didn’t seem like such a good idea but you thought it'd be better to accompany Sam rather than sulk in your room. Bucky caught up to the two of you before Sam walked off with him, discussing what places they would visit tomorrow. You didn’t miss the way he completely ignored you.

When you greeted the boys again, the smile on your face wasn’t fooling anyone; both of them knew you were sad about Bucky’s sudden shift in behaviour. They reached the bar and you left to go to the bathroom. 

“You’re not protecting her. You’re flat out hurting her right now. Stop the charade and talk to her, please.” Sam chided. 

“After the mission, I’ll talk to her.” Bucky argued.

“Just… allow yourself to be a happy man. Only good people worry about being bad.” Sam said as he produced Asgardian liquor out of his pocket. 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Bucky downed a shot, ignoring Sam’s glare.

When you joined them again, Bucky downed his second shot. You listened to Sam and Bucky engaging in conversation about the Elementals, when a guy came up to you and offered to buy you a drink. You heard Bucky go silent in mid-conversation. 

“Hey, could I buy you a drink? If you’re alone that is,” the guy referred to Sam and Bucky. 

“Oh, these are my friends, Sam and Bucky. You can buy me a drink,” you greeted, adding a warm smile for good measure.

Time passed and Bucky was getting tired of hearing him make you laugh. It seemed platonic enough but he couldn’t think straight with the liquid courage swirling around his head. He wasn’t paying attention to what Sam was saying and walked over to the nearest girl. 

At the end of the night, you said goodbye to the nice guy, declining the exchange of phone calls. You ignored Bucky, who kept burning holes into the back of your head. He was the one who repeatedly pushed you away today. It wasn’t to get back at him, but you didn’t mind getting him a little jealous if it’ll push him in the right direction. 

What you didn’t notice was Bucky getting up and flirting with a girl nearby. Sam watched as Bucky pulled out all of his tricks from the 40s. The air-headed girl giggled at everything he said, practically hanging off of him by the end of the night. They left before Sam asked Y/N to leave. The Falcon was a smart guy but the one thing he didn’t know how to do was lie; when you asked where Bucky was, he barely managed to tell you that he went back to the room, omitting the part about the girl. 

You reached the hotel and upon nearing your rooms, which was lined up beside each other, you heard the unmistakable sound of moaning and grunting. Bucky’s name was muffled, but screamed by whoever was inside the room. 

You stilled and looked at his hotel door before quietly slipping into your own room and breaking down. Sam didn’t call after you when he himself didn’t know what to say - there was no excusing Bucky’s behaviour. Whatever happened to talking to her after the mission, he thought as he willed himself to walk away from the sound of your crying. 

The next day, you ignored the girl that walked out of Bucky’s room and headed for the breakfast bar. Bucky and Sam showed up a few minutes later and no one said anything as they sat down with their food. Everyone ate in silence, unsure of what to say. Once you were done, you worked up the courage to say what you were wording in your head throughout the duration of the breakfast. 

“I thought you and I had something before you started acting all weird Buck.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You avoided me right after I complimented you at the debriefing, you refused to help in the quinjet and then you hook up with some random girl at the bar? I thought we were going somewhere with this.” You tried to avoid his gaze, a feeble attempt at ensuring you didn't cry but it was too late. Unwarranted tears trickled onto your plate and shirt. “And you cut your hair after I told you I like it. Don’t think I didn’t notice Buck.” you wiped your tears and waited for an answer.

“I didn’t cut my hair because of you. There’s no need to make this about you.” 

You looked at him in disbelief while Sam dropped his fork and stared his friend down. 

“I don’t know what made you think at this,” he pointed at himself and you, “was going anywhere. Because I didn’t even know this was a thing.” 

“Right.” you choked out. “Well since this isn’t going anywhere, I’m gonna’ head out with Maria. Have fun banging random chicks.” 

With that, you got up and left the room.

Neither of them said anything. 

They sat in silence for god-knows-how-long until Sam broke the silence. 

“All this time, you try to prove to everyone that you’re a good person and no one believed it. You were scared of being a bad person, well congratulations. You are a horrible person. You hurt the only person who never questioned whether you were good or not.” Sam got up and left too.

Bucky slouched into his chair and blinked. He was supposed to feel numb but felt like crying and crying until his body had no life left in it. He told himself that he did what needed to be done. 

The super soldier spent the day walking around London - a lot had changed since the war. He pulled out his camera to take a picture of the Big Ben. When he flicked back to take a look at the shot, he saw the picture of Y/N resting on his lap while his arm draped over her. He remembered that day and thought back to the intimate conversation you had with him about Tony. A stray teardrop reminded him of what he said this morning. 

“What am I doing?” he questioned himself and began running back to the hotel. 

He reached your door and breathlessly called out for you, knocking on your door. You opened the door to reveal your red eyes and a stuffy nose, surely a byproduct of relentless crying. He pulled you into his arms and you began crying again with your head nestled into his chest. He walked in while holding you and closed the door behind him. Picking you up bridal style, he walked over to your bed and laid you on it before climbing in and snuggling you. 

“Asshole, I’m still mad at you” you reminded him. He smiled lightly, kissed your forehead and pulled you closer. “I’ll make it up to you doll. I’m sorry” he promised. 

“Sam told me everything. You deserve a good life Buck. The Winter Soldier and you are two different people. Please,” you sobbed harder, “Stop hurting me. You deserve a good life too.” You tried to look up at him but he kept his chin on top of your head, refusing to meet your eyes in fear of crying. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart” he repeated before delicately shushing you to sleep. 

When you woke up, Bucky was nowhere to be found and it was 8 PM. You checked your phone to see that Sam had reserved a table for dinner.

You reached the restaurant and Bucky was waiting at the front. He gave you a soft smile before wordlessly walking you to the table. You weren’t sure where you two stood right now, but it was better than not speaking at all. You contemplated whether the incident at the hotel was a proper apology or not. 

“I’m glad no one was in the breakfast room for our little scuffle.” Sam teased as you both sat down. 

“I’m not gonna’ lie, I would shit my pants if the Falcon and White Wolf were arguing in a breakfast bar,” you remarked and settled further into your chair. The three of you were laughing before a sudden movement out of the corner of your eyes stopped you.

Someone splashed water onto Bucky’s face. “YOU MURDERER! YOU KILLED MY DAD YOU ASSHOLE,” the guy grabbed Bucky by his shirt collar. “FUCKING WINTER SOLDIER, DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER HIM?” Sam pulled the guy off of Bucky and tried to calm him down but he wasn’t having any of it. He repeatedly spat insults at the ex-Winter Soldier before he was escorted out by the security. You tried to hold Bucky’s hand but he recoiled from your touch. He wiped wetness off his face and you couldn't tell if it was his tears or the water. He stalked off to the exit before sprinting out of the restaurant. 

You called after him with no avail. Sam and you shared a hopeless glance between each other and ran off to find Bucky.

a/n: oh bonky :’(

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[steves-on-a-plane]

The Safest Hands

*Slight Spoiler* For Falcon And The Winter Soldier Words: 1383 Pairing: Former!Sam Wilson x Reader Summary: Reader is the Eldest daughter of Tony Stark and the former fiancé of Sam Wilson. After the government announces its plans for Captain America, Reader pulls together the best plan she can manage to get the shield back. Author’s Note: I’m loving everything that's happening so far with TFAWS, and it gave me the idea for this fic where Reader is a lawyer who tries to say Steve had no legal right to the shield. 

Courtrooms are nothing but theaters with bad actors in cheap suits. That was the first piece of advice your father had given you when you told him you wanted to become a lawyer. You were surprised by how true that turned out to be. Not so much the part about the suits being cheap, but the theatrical side of it for sure. You always tried your best not to play into the theatrics, unless it was the last resort.

Sure as hell hope this works. You thought as you shuffled papers at your table. You’d been in the courtroom for almost an hour. It seemed crazy to you that Supreme Court cases were decided so quickly. While corporate trials lasted weeks or sometimes months, the fate of a historic mantle would be decided in less than ninety minutes. You drank a sip of water from the glass in front of you. It was warm and tasted metallic, like someone had filtered it through pennies. You took a measured breath and waited for your turn to speak.

“So, as you can see by the evidence provided,” You began your closing statement. “Captain America’s iconic shield never legally transferred to Captain Steven Rogers. When Howard Stark passed, ownership of the shield was moved to the beneficiary of his estate, Mr. Stark’s only son, Anthony Stark. While under Anthony’s ownership the shield was stored in various facilities including being on loan to S.H.I.E.L.D. for several decades. Sometime in 2011, the shield was then loaned indefinity to Captain Rogers as shown in the asset transfer form submitted to the court. This form was signed by Captain Rogers, Nicholas J Fury and Anthony Stark. However, Captain Rogers terminated any rights to the shield following his refusal to sign the Sokovian Accords, as the original terms of the loan stated the shield would be reclaimed by Mr. Stark in the event the weapon was linked to a known crime in anyway. Therefor it stands to reason that since Captain Rogers had no legal right to the shield, he could not legally gift the shield to Mr. Samuel Wilson. Since Mr. Wilson was also not the legal owner of the shield, he could not legally donate it to the Smithsonian museum, which the government has since claimed the shield from. Rightfully, that shield belongs to the estate of Mr. Anthony Stark.”

“Thank you for those impassioned words, Ms. Stark.” The Chief Justice remarked. His tone was condescending, but you weren’t quite sure if that was intentional. “We thank you for your time as the court knows how personal this case is for you. We must hear our next case now. I expect you’ll have your answer following our next conference.”

With that the trial was over. There was nothing more you could do but wait for the justices to confer and deliver their opinion. You began gathering your things and exiting the court room. You’d presented every shred of evidence you could find. Proof that legally the shield had never transferred fully into Steve’s possession. Proof that Stark Industries still held pattens on all previous versions of the shield as well as several prototypes. Your father’s company or his estate also maintained pattens on every iteration of the Captain America Uniform. You could stop them from creating a new Captain America in everything but name.

You’d barely exited the Supreme Court Building when your phone rang. Sam Wilson’s name scrawled across the screen. You heaved a deep sigh, wishing this whole ordeal was over with already. You ignored Sam’s call, too preoccupied with dodging the press who were swarming around you. You gaze in the distance, relieved when you saw a familiar face. Happy Hogan met you at the base of the steps and helped you int the backseat of the car. You secured your seatbelt as he slipped behind the steering wheel and drove away.

“They were live streaming the courtroom.” He told you, not looking away from the road.

“Of course, they were. Vultures.” You complained, as you watched the reporters get smaller and smaller in the rearview.

“Can you really blame them? The whole country wants to see how this ends.” Happy told you.

“Wish it was over already.” You mumbled from the backseat. You answered a text from Pepper, asking if you were okay. You assured her that you were fine and that you’d been seeing here and Morgan soon. You just had a few things in DC that needed tying up. Again, your phone began to ring. It was Sam. You silenced it before tossing it across the seat.  

“You know he’d be proud of you, Kiddo. They both would be.” He assured you.

“If they weren’t both so stubborn, they’d still be here. Not leaving me to fight their battles for them. Which for the record, I stayed away from the tech industry specifically so that I wouldn’t turn into my father and…GAh!” You couldn’t help but let out a small exclamation of frustration. “Here I am throwing around the family name and exploiting thin as ice legal loopholes to get the stupid shield back! A shield that Sam was at best too humble and at worst too stupid to keep. Even if you don’t use it, man, just do the one thing you know Steve would have wanted and keep it away from the government! Aside from the fact that it’s classified as a deadly weapon, the thing’s got enough vibranium to buy you a decent house. Or If you want to give it to a government don’t give it to ours! Bring it to T’challa….”

You phone was now vibrating loudly as it skidded across the car’s leather back seat. You took a brief pause from your rant and finally answered the phone. You didn’t even bother looking at the caller ID. Only one person had been blowing up your phone all morning.

“What, Wilson?” You snapped at him.

“Hey, Baby, nice to hear your voice too. Long time no see.” He cackled from the other side of the line. You pinched the bridge of your nose and exhaled a deep breath.

“Sam, now’s not a good time…” You told him.

“C’mon you’ve been dodging my calls all morning.” His tone finally changed to something serious.

“You didn’t think that was for a reason?” You snapped.

“Oh, I know the reason. You think I’m going to ask you about the trial.” He laughed.

“Aren’t you?” You sighed.

“Nah I saw the whole thing on TV.” He assured you. “You look great by the way, very Stark-like.”

“Yeah, well the hot rod red power suit probably did most of the leg work there.” You sighed. “What do you want Sam? Happy and I are on our way to the hotel.”

“Any chance you want to join me for dinner?” He asked.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be seen together. I’m suing you remember?” You reminded him.

“So we just make sure no one sees us.” You could practically hear him shrugging. “Besides you’re only technically suing me. Once all the dust settles with the federal case we get to pretend we agreed to something outside of court. Then everything goes back to normal and you don’t have to pretend you’re mad at me anymore.”

“Let me be clear about something, I’m not pretending to be mad at you. I’m furious.” You told him sternly. “This isn’t like the time you bleached my favorite shirt. I’m not just going to get over it. You really messed this one up, Sam. I’m not fighting this fight for you and we’re lucky we didn’t go through with that proposal of yours, because if we were married right now, I’d have no hope at all of getting that shield back.

“It won’t kill you to say that you missed me too, [Y/N].” He said.

“I miss a lot of things Sam.” You told him. “But not all of us have the luxury of walking away from a legacy. Stark out.” You ended the call and tossed your phone again.

Everything’s gonna workout exactly the way it’s supposed to. Your father’s final words echoed in your head as you stare at the window.

“Probably not this time, Old Man.” You whispered to yourself.

[zorak-show]

pls comment or message me if you’d like a tag for the fem!dom reader x bucky fic im working on.

[sheikahchevvy]

Fleur de pays de Caroline

layla ♡ ˚✧ 20s ♡ ˚✧ s*her

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• ° • _____ ° ➳ i'm a writer & marvel nerd who writes bad fanfiction while she's not studying to become a doctor! interact at your own risk

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[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Four: The Morning After

The Missing Title

Helmut Zemo x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: After yesterday's events, it's time to face a ghost from your past. The only problem is, you'd forgotten the Power Broker has a hit out on all of you. When things go sideways, what can you do?

Words: 7.5k

Warnings: Sexual Inferences, Traumatic Flashbacks, Gunfire, Raids, Death, Gory Descriptions, Violence, Existentialism, Guilt, Harsh Self-Judgment,

Mentions of: Talk of Morals, Life,

A/N: It's been awhile, but I love changing up what I'm writing on from time to time and whatever inspires me and doesn't leave me stuck is what I'm working on. I missed Zemo❤️

Slippers shuffling across the polished wooden floor, you revel in the--far too big--terry cloth bathrobe sleeves brushing the backs of your hands. Blasé as you flick on the electric kettle in the kitchen, the simple task of retrieving a mug from one of the cabinets and an accompanying teabag preoccupy your mind.

"Looks like you had fun last night." Sharon's voice elicits a jump as you startle. "Can't say I would've taken you for the type if I'm honest."

While you'd normally be offended any other time, the relaxed nature you'd acquired after sleeping in a warm plush bed luckily isn't as easily swayed. "What do you mean?" You ask, turning to her to in an attempt to gauge her meaning through her eyes.

Sharon gives you a once over, lips opening for a moment before they close. Having gotten out a tub of strawberries from the fancy bottom drawer of her refrigerator, she plucks one from the container. "All I'm saying is... I'd be careful if I were you." Her eyes shift to the table a few feet away before resettling on your figure. Strawberry lingering against her lips, you notice the faint smirk she dawns before she bites into the fruit.

"So... what's the plan?" Sam's groggy voice asks. With a clap of his hands together, he rubs them for a moment before taking a seat at the table just a few feet from the counter. It's only then that you notice you're not alone anymore. Sam sits at the table while Zemo browses the couple of magazines lying there. It's then that her comment dawns on you. Hiding your embarrassed blush behind your cup of tea, you can only hope and pray neither of them heard.

"I was thinking breakfast, then we can devise a plan for Nagel." Sharon posits with a confident air about her. "Please, help yourselves." Rummaging through her kitchen with ease, you tentatively work around her to find something for yourself.

"We cannot afford to delay too long," the Baron says. All the while he's not torn his gaze from the magazine he's picked up and is now flicking through. Part of you can't keep from ogling him; adorned in a matching white bathrobe, he must've found another. Surely that's why Sharon said something, no? Jumping to conclusions? There was no other plausible reason, right?

"Can't say no to that," Sam teases. Closing the laptop he'd only opened moments before, he slides it aside and stands to get himself something to eat. "A cup o' joe never hurt anyone."

"Best way to start off the day right," Bucky's sarcastic tone emanates from the hallway. As he turns the corner you can only hope he's joking. Seems like something he'd find funny. At least from the lack of acquaintance, that's what you'd guess.

"Most important meal of the day and all," Sam digs at him. With a hand gently encompassing your waist, he skirts past you in search of a mug. "You make coffee?" He asks no one in particular.

"No," Sharon responds. As she spreads cream cheese on her bagel, you debate having one yourself. When was the last time you had one? It's not something you'd typically have in your house, not to mention that these look to be high quality.

"Mm-mm," you reply. With your tea, you hadn't thought to make a pot of coffee. Even if you knew they might've wanted one, you wouldn't know where to start.

Halfway through breakfast, you can't help but feel your blissful demeanor start to slip as nerves begin to crawl toward the forefront of your mind. Surely with the fleeting time at hand, you'll be facing a ghost from your past sooner than you'd like.

"What else do we need? I managed to exhaust a connection last night. I found him; Nagel," Sharon informs you all. Running your fingers over the smooth surface of the grape you'd picked up from your plate, you simply listen to them discuss.

"Where is he?" Bucky asks. Dominant hand encapsulating his coffee mug, he doesn't take his eyes off the steam rising from the cup.

"You got earpieces? I can reroute them through my equipment and link us to a private channel for communication." Sam responds before taking a big bite of the bagel he'd gotten himself. It seems finishing off Sharon's bagels is something you'd all inadvertently tacitly decided.

"He's hiding out in the shipyard. I've got a container number here," Sharon answers as she fishes her phone out of her pocket. Placing it down on the table for all to see, she then tosses her crumpled up napkin onto her plate and stands to discard of her dishes. Zemo follows after her with his own.

Attention drawn to your heart thumping in your chest, you can't help yourself as the words slip from your mouth before you've settled on a way to phrase your thoughts. "Sam- I... I need to know what's expected of me before I go in there. Because I'm..." you hesitate, eyes drifting away from his face as you unconsciously bite your lip.

"Did you hear about the wrap party on Friday evening at Brian's place? I heard Janice is bringing her fiancé! We're finally going to meet him." Partially interrupted from the forms you're manually copying from the computer's formulas as security, the older woman leans on your desk, looming over you. "And for the record, everyone's allowed a plus one," she mentions in a sing-song voice. "Are you bringing someone?"

BOOM! It's the aftershock that jolts your writing hand, the calculations jagged. Screams sound throughout the dark lab as you're met with light shining from the direction of the crash. Looking to Denise you're met with her fearful expression. Eyes widened, lips parted in shock, there's blood running down the side of her temple as you stand from your chair. Gunfire echoes and pings off nearby surfaces as her body slumps on top of you, weighing you down. Pinned beneath her motionless body you try to push her off as black and white passes your vision over and over. It's them, the black regulatory shoes, the white lab coats. Your fellow coworkers, the people that've grown akin to family in the past eight months you've been working on this project, all scatter before your eyes.

"-I'm not doing that again. Okay?" Shoving the memories from your mind, your jaw tenses slightly as you try and figure out the plan.

"Doing what, exactly? You know the plan, we've just discussed the plan. You're either in or you're out, and quite frankly, we need you in," Sam argues. Staring you down across the table, he's got a stern look on his face.

"We don't. Still don't even know why she's here," Bucky mutters from beside him. Taking a sip of his coffee, he looks nonplussed about the entire situation at hand.

"Fine. I need you in. Got it?" Sam corrects himself. "You know more about this entire situation than any of us, and that's saying a hell of a lot with Cyborg over here."

A halfhearted chuckle escapes you, your lips twisting in thought. "So we go in there, we interrogate him? Because this is more of a question of build-up. I mean, there's not really the question of how, since we know he's capable, it was just a matter of time." You point out the real problem. "This is tracking back. Who's funding him? Where did he get the supplies and essentials for this? Because this isn't just some seventh grade science project shit! It requires equipment that costs thousands and thousands of dollars," you retort, unable to help yourself from getting louder as your fear and anger start to surface.

"He's working for the Power Broker, Sharon said," Sam reiterates. Placing your closed fist to your lips, your eyes flit around the table, lingering with each person for a moment. "Okay, so... what's the plan?"

"Arrest him. Get him out of the shop so he can't help anymore," Bucky butts in. Knowing him, however, the lie, or sarcasm--whichever it is--is easily detectable.

Lips curling inward, this is exactly what you were scared of. Head lowering for a moment, you can't help but look anywhere aside the table since no one seems to disagree. "Wow," you say, finally raising your gaze again. "Okay, this is exactly why I can't do this. I'm not going to jail."

"No one said-"

"He's sick! Alright? He's sick, but he's not- it's not like we're some evil scientists running around doing shit for... well, maybe he's doing it for the pleasure of it. Not really though since clearly he just wants namesake, but still-"

"Look, if you help us, you'll get pardoned. You won't have to keep hiding. Isn't that why you flew all the way to Germany?" Sam points out.

As silence overtakes the table and you find yourself lost in thought, it's the sudden movement before your face that tears you from your mind. Gloved hand finally dropping back to his side, you question the man with an acknowledging hum. "Hm?"

"I asked if you were done." Eyes wandering up to meet his face, you're met with a strange look from Bucky. With a subtle shake of your head to ground yourself, you reply with a simple nod and smile. The soldier takes your almost empty plate and heads toward the counter.

"You good?" Sam questions from across the table, his eyes on you. "You know I can't afford to lose you now. Not on this," he reminds.

Met with silence, this time it's Sam who breaks the eye contact as he sighs. He quietly says your name. "I can't promise you it won't end the same. I just can't... but you know what's at stake right now, and we can't lose this chance."

"But you get that this isn't just an infiltrate and demolish kind of deal, right? That's the mistake they made last time." You point out. Despite the worry etched across your face, Sam meets you with a look that can only, really, say one thing:

'Really?' A huff of breath leaves him as he tilts his head back a bit and sits up straighter. "You don't need to tell me twice. This is an infiltration and extraction," he assures you.

With that conversation over and your burden lifted from your shoulders, you feel able to continue with the plan. "Good."

"Here we go, then," Sam announces. Standing, he pats your shoulder as he, too, heads off to dispose of his dishes.

Dressed, ready to go, and thirty minutes later your boots stamp against the damp concrete as you follow Sharon through the stacked containers in the shipyard.

"Madripoor could give New York a run for its money," you hear Sam comment behind you.

"They know how to party," Zemo indulges his conversation. An amused smile threatens an appearance as it tugs at the corners of your lips. It seems Zemo's traveled a lot. You'd ask him about his experiences if only it were another time and place. Travelling is something you never had the luxury of doing, but always dreamed of.

Leading the pack, Sharon guides you as she references some tracker or map on her phone. "With that bounty on your head, the longer you're in Madripoor the less likely you're ever leaving." Her words loom ominously over your heads. While last night had managed to temporarily eradicate the reality of being hunted by the Power Broker, the reminder was needed. As she comes to a stop in the junction of four containers, she turns to face you all.

"All right, he's in there: Container 4261," she points out, "I'll keep an eye out while you talk to Nagel, but hurry, we're on borrowed time." Withdrawn from her pocket, she extends a handful of earpieces. As the men grab theirs, you take a deep breath and follow suit. You can do this, you remind yourself. Facing parts of your past may be dreadful, but in this case, there's no way to set things right without having to dive head first into it. There's no use running from it any longer.

Earpiece in place, you follow Sam as he marches right up to the container. He opens it without much trouble. When he doesn't go in, you step out from behind Bucky to see what's up. The container is dark and empty; there's no way that's right. With a look around, it doesn't seem like anyone's followed you, and Sharon said this was the right one. Either someone lied to her, or... there has to be something more.

"Hey, Sharon," Sam calls, testing the communication line. "You sure this is the right one? It's completely empty." As he stands in the doorway, you slink around him and enter the metal box.

"Positive," she confirms, "It has to be."

While it's dark, you can still make out the blank walls of the container. That is, until your light is blocked. You look back to see Sam and Zemo follow after you, yet the light is lacking now. With a faint click Zemo shines a flashlight, something you should've thought to bring. As he steps around you to delve further into the container, you search the side walls for any sort of clue or sign.

All of the sudden there's a loud creak. Stopped in your tracks, you whip your head around to find Zemo's eyes slightly widened and the back wall pushed in. It's a door! As everyone gauges each other upon this revelation, Zemo decides to push it open and see what's inside. With quick feet, you follow him. Before you can follow the set of stairs up and into the light, however, Sam stops the both of you.

Your friend takes the lead as he has his gun held up in a readied stance. A glance behind you shows that Bucky's done the same, his gaze behind himself to make sure you all aren't followed. With quiet and cautious steps, Sam's halfway up the stairs before Bucky pushes past you in pursuit. At the bottom of the stairs, Zemo simply lifts a gloved hand in a tacit gesture. 'Ladies first' you can only hope, gut twisting and turning at the terrifying alternative.

Fluorescent light illuminates your group as you make your way into the laboratory. 'You know I'm waitin' here for you~' Music plays loudly throughout the container and you can't help but wonder how this man possibly thought it was a good idea. Wouldn't he be ready for something like this? It's that thought that instantly has you recoiling into yourself mentally. You weren't expecting it. None of you were when the SWAT raided that lab. 'Comin' home, baby, now. You don't know what I'm goin' through~'

As you all spread out, you find yourself lagging behind as you're more interested on the setup rather than the man. After all, this... is some authentic tech. An actual laboratory, an expensive one at that. Eyes running over the grow lights, the centrifuges, melting point actuator, it's clear there's more than meets the eye.

Suddenly the music stops. "Doctor Nagel?" Sam's voice calls out.

"Who are you? What do you want?" That familiar nasally voice responds. The creeps run up your spine and elicit a shiver from you.

"We know you created the super-soldier serum," Sam states.

"Get out of my lab," Nagel responds. As you contemplate approaching and interfering, the sound of footsteps makes you halt.

"Hey!" You hear Sam call out. He's trying to flee, your anxious mind worries. He doesn't really think you'll just let him go... does he? As the footsteps cease, you gauge Bucky, the closest person to you. "You know who he is, right?" The soldier's gaze is focused on something, and you realize Nagel has to be right behind the corner, a machine blocking your view of one another. There's no response. "This is Baron Zemo. I know you've heard of him, too, right?"

Someone stumbles a couple feet before you; it only takes a split-second to recognize it's Nagel. "You seem like a pretty smart guy," Sam compliments, "So you better become conversational real quick." It's then you notice how your friend has a hand wrapped around Nagel's bicep. With a shove of him into the metallic wall, the scientist turns.

Unfortunately for you, Zemo had taken it upon himself to insert himself between you and Sam. He clearly wants a piece of Nagel. You're still blocked from view though, unable to determine what exactly is going on. "How about a counter proposal?" Nagel barters. As you step out from Zemo's shadow and get closer to Sam is when it happens. He sees you; there's a faint look of recognition in his eyes, a parting of his lips, and a slight furrow of his brow. "Make me a better offer and I'll talk."

Despite your past, your presence doesn't deter him. He's far gone. The creepy and nihilistic man you once knew is now completely devoid of any self-preserving instinct. "Guys, we have company," Sharon's voice warns through the earpiece.

All the sudden it seems like Bucky's had enough. With a sturdy hand he grabs Nagel by the shirt before tugging him closer. Shifting his hand onto his collar he guides the weak man toward an empty chair before forcing him into it. Never straying the gun from its target--his head--Bucky intimidates him. "You're with these guys?" He questions, spitting in your direction as his eyes draw in on you, narrowing with contempt. "Who's to say you weren't the little rat all those years ago?" A vile laugh emanates from the man as he throws his head back.

Jaw clenching, hands balling up into fists, you internally writhe in the anger he's stirring up. Someone might have spilled the project's secret contents to the Government, but it certainly wasn't you. That information would cost most of your coworkers their lives, and leave the rest scarred, scared, and forever fleeing from the fed's eyes in search of security and home. You'd never betray your family like that. Never, not even for reward.

"Every bounty hunter in the city is here-" Sharon's voice comes through again. "We gotta go!"

The metallic echo of a round piercing the wall somewhere behind Nagel elicits a gasp from both you and said weasel of a man. Bucky doesn't even need say anything to intimidate him. "Okay! Okay, I was brought into HYDRA's Winter Soldier program to pick up their work after the five failed test subjects in Siberia." Despite his clear fear shown in not meeting any of your eyes, Nagel starts to gain confidence as he takes his time. "When HYDRA fell, I was recruited by the CIA, as you know." Eerie blue eyes settle on you as he speaks.

"They had blood samples from an American test subject with semi-stable traces of serum in his system. After much labor, I was able to isolate the necessary compounds in his blood. I recreated it on my own. Without any of you. I was a god. I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do."

The monotonous tone of his voice starts to wear on you, and despite knowing what he's talking about, you don't dare interrupt him when he's on a roll and bound to spill something. Anything. And it doesn't just seem to be you, either, as Zemo turns his back on him, beginning to walk around the lab analyzing the environment.

"But mine was going to be different. No clunky machines or jacked up bodies. Mine was going to be subtle, optimized, perfect," Nagel brags.

"How have we never heard about this?" Sam's voice is quiet in comparison as everyone's eyes turn to him momentarily.

"You haven't?" Nagel's questioning look toward Sam turns into a glare as he hones back in on you. "You haven't," he repeats, a slight shake of his head. One that almost reminisces of disapproval. "Because..." He begins to answer Sam's query. "Before I was able to complete my work, I turned to dust. Then when I returned, it was five years later, program had been abandoned, so I came here. The Power Broker was more than happy to fun the recreation of my work."

Just like any other day in your office--a laboratory--nothing was unordinary. Of course, you knew of the tensions in the East, and while things had been on and off going for years now, the presence of aliens that day would have made things known earlier, if only you all hadn't been shut inside work with your faces buried in the business you were hired to do. Regardless... even if you knew what was coming, was there anything you could do to change the way things would inevitably unfold? No.

While the Avengers might have been off fighting on your worlds' behalf somewhere in the East, you were busy doing what you could too. Had you realized your employer's intentions from the beginning, would it have changed things? Perhaps. But you can't go back and change time.

It happened in an instant; the gasps and crashes of different equipment dropping all around you had the group of you in panic. Looks around only left the lot of you puzzled and in distress as your coworkers and friends began crumbling before your vision into what could only be described as a powdery dust.

Wilfred Nagel was one of them. It was probably the only time you'd seen any notion of some tell in emotion on his face.

Eyes widened in fear as the beaker fell through his disintegrated hand, both of your attention shifted from the broken glass up to one another's faces. Despite being across the room from one another, the utter look of despair, distraught, and utter horror behind his irises had him seeking out help. You were frozen in place, stock still, as whatever it was continued to consume his body rapidly in an eerie, silent, and fast pace. His lips parted as he tried to say something... but by then it was too late. The last of it eviscerated his face and dissolved the man right before your very eyes. It was the last time you'd ever see him.

Or so you thought.

"How many vials did you make?" Sam prods, attempting to get the facts.

"Twenty," Nagel answers. The lack of emotion or concern on his face only causes dread to further sink in the pit of your stomach. He'd already been frighteningly stoic when you'd first met the man upon hire, but this... this feels as though he came back vile, with any sort of remorse he'd held out for humanity wiped clean. Revenge consumed him whole, and now he was nothing but a shell of the man he used to be.

"You didn't!" You exclaim, brows furrowed in shock.

"Karli Morgenthau stole those, so... I can only imagine what the Power Broker has planned for that poor girl." The lack of remorse, the apathetic speak of logical contemplation leaves you angered.

"Where's Karli now?" Sam interrogates.

"I don't know where she is, but a couple days ago she called and asked if I could help someone named Donya Madani. Poor woman has tuberculosis," Nagel explains.

"And you didn't. Did you?" You poke at him, no longer able to hide your equal contempt for the man.

"-Typical of overpopulation in displacement camps like that," he continues.

"Well, what happened to her?" Sam asks, clearly unamused by the need to continue prodding for information that's clearly relevant.

"Not my pig, not my farm," Nagel answers. A sneer displays itself across your face and you can't keep yourself from turning on him. It's one thing to be a scientist, to understand many of the mechanics that make up life... but it's another to be heartless and cruel. To not help those in need? Those without the capabilities, knowledge, or necessities? And after the Snap? When so many suffered. You'd seen how people rallied together, how humanity actually felt like it meant something again, and now? Now it's like none of that ever mattered anymore.

"Is there any serum in this lab?" Bucky questions, finally putting his hat in the ring. It only takes a moment of silence for the soldier to press the barrel of his pistol into Nagel's temple. Whatever apathy had been there before is now replaced with fear again. Clearly, he has the ability to feel something.

"No," Nagel answers.

"Now what?" Bucky asks. Both of you look toward Sam as he'd been the one leading this plan originally.

Just then you spot someone run in. "Guys, we're seriously outta time here-" Sharon exclaims. A gunshot rings out. You jump, body going rigid. "No!" You hear Sam yell, motion on either side of you as you hear the shuffle and bang of someone shoved into the container's wall. Eyes settled on Nagel's body lying on the floor, blood pooling from his chest out onto the pristine floor. It stains his shirt, the dark red bleeding into the blue fabric and turning it a dark sort of maroon. You can't bring yourself to look away.

"What did you do?" Sharon urges.

Boom! You're thrown to the floor, heat burning your backside as a weight lies heavy across your side. An alarm blares throughout the lab and groans emanate from across the aisle. You don't know when you closed your eyes, but upon opening them you're met with Bucky's stoic expression. Eyes searching one another's momentarily his blue eyes scan you before he's pushing himself up and off you.

"You okay?" The soldier asks. All you can do is nod.

It'd all happened so fast.

He'd saved you; having pushed you out of the way he must've landed on you partially. It all happened so fast. As the soldier pushes himself back up onto his feet you can see the fire roaring behind him. What the fuck happened? There was nothing that should've caused an explosion like that. At least... nothing you saw.

The alarm is loud, yet the clinking of vials and test tubes rattling in their sets are ominous in a way that immediately sets you into flight mode. There are chemicals and compounds here that will cause a secondary explosion any second now. Reality set in, you immediately follow Bucky's lead as you push yourself up, uncaring of the glass shards that may imbed themself in your palms. Glass crunches beneath your boots as you stumble, and there's a faint hissing that reminds you of the kettle this morning. Only you know this is far more dangerous.

"Anybody see Zemo?" Sam's voice calls out. You hardly make it out as the alarm drowns him out, yet you heard him just barely. You'd seen it. In your peripheral you'd seen something fly by in the corridor. It had to be Zemo. That's the only explanation that makes sense. With Sam's concern in your mind, you can only think of one thing to do.

You take off after Zemo.

"Let's go!" It's Bucky's voice. He's got them, Sharon and Bucky; he'd never leave them behind, from everything you know about him, and even if he did- they're more than capable of taking care of themselves.

You've barely caught up. The tail of his expensive coat is all you're chasing. Rounding one corner and then the next, you follow him blindly through the shipyard. Boot-clad feet stomp against the pavement in matching strides as you chase after him. "Stop!" You yell. "Stop running!" You refuse to let him get away.

Surprisingly, it works. Zemo comes to a halt and lingers for a moment as you close the distance between you. Finally a matter of an arm's length away, you don't know what you'll do to subdue him and stop him from running off again, but you're not thinking straight. He's suddenly turning toward you. "I'm not letting you-" the rest of your sentence is muffled under his glove. Pressed up against the closest container, Zemo stares down at you with ferocity in his eyes and his leather glove covering your mouth. Surprise quickly turns to understanding in your eyes as his tacit request is met. Be quiet.

The sound of thudding footfall approaching comes to a stop and you realize that your yelling might've drawn unwanted attention. Metallic pings resound in the distance from ricocheted fire and you know that the fight is going on back where you'd come from. It's a matter of moments before the thudding returns and you both listen to the bounty hunters run on the other side of the container toward the commotion.

Pushing his gloved hand off your mouth, you glare up at him. "I'm not letting you get away," you scold him in a whisper.

"I'm not running away," Zemo bites back at the same volume. With a look around he slowly steps back before returning his gaze down to you. "Follow me. Stay close."

The Baron takes off again, this time with you close behind. You round a container only to be met with two men wielding guns; where you halt, Zemo has no hesitation and charges into one of them. He knocks the shoulder of one, his hands going to the gun and trying to disarm him. It's then that you notice the other raising the gun at you. Jumping aside, you feel something graze your bicep as a whiz resounds beside you. Heart accelerating rapidly, you're left scrambling to your feet when you find yourself towered over. Who it is? You can't tell fast enough as you're being kicked back onto your butt, pain spreading through your stomach. As you look up at your attacker, you find he's being pulled backward by Zemo, effectively taking the man by surprise as the gun drops.

The other bounty hunter is slumped against the nearest container with blood dripping from his temple. "Ack!" The pained noise elicited from Zemo captures you're attention and you're reaching for the gun that'd clattered onto the pavement. Luckily it didn't go off- not that you have time to think on it now. In a tangle of bodies, the two men are still wrestling one another. With a slow lift of the gun, you're aiming it, finger hovering over the trigger.

Eyes drawn to the movement of the man's hands into his pockets retrieving a switchblade, you can't breathe as the juxtaposition of Zemo finally trapping him in a headlock does nothing. He's going to get stabbed. Bang! Smoke trickles from the chamber as you stand there, watching as the man's body falls limp, the dot of red on his shirt beginning to pool. "Good," Zemo praises, shrugging the body out of his hands and onto the pavement. "I doubted you had it in you for a moment there," he chuckles to himself as he dusts off his gloves.

Stepping over the body, he approaches, lifting your hands into his own as he presses the gun back into them upon spotting you attempting to dispose of it. "Take this." Pistol shoved back into your hands, you quickly right it and do as you've seen in your limited exposure and on tv. "You will need it."

There's no words coming out. Nothing you can say to stop the pit in your stomach from deepening. You might not have time to think on the precarious thoughts tempting to take center stage, yet you know you can't let yourself do so. "We need higher ground," he mutters. With a final look around he sets off. Vaulting himself onto the stack of barrels and pallets at the other end of the container, he gains leverage to climb atop. You follow suit.

"You're supposed to follow me!" Sam yells.

"And where are we now?" Bucky counters.

You can hear them arguing even from here. Wherever here is. While the Baron might take big strides resulting in the obvious clank, clank, clank of his boots against the metal, you take quieter more cautious steps. He retrieves something from his pockets, and it's only as he tugs it over his head you realize it's a mask. Why though? You're unsure. As you rear closer you can see he was right: you have a better vantage point from here. Worry washes over you as you spot your friends trapped under a shipping container with people approaching on either side.

Without warning, Zemo aims and shoots a pipe a few meters away. Boom! In a fiery explosion you watch as a group of bounty hunters going after your friends burn. They're down. The Baron takes the lead as he jumps down onto the adjacent container and launches himself off that one down onto the concrete.

Dodging one man's advances, the Baron shoots the attacker's partner before spinning, using that same man as a shield to shoot another bounty hunter approaching from the container to your right.

Still standing atop the container, you watch as some more people file in from the left. They're in a blocked viewpoint from your friends. Crouching, you vault yourself off the container and ignore the pain that shoots up your shins as you try to catch the attackers off guard. Gun aimed before you, the first man walks out into the open before you shoot him. Pop! Pop! Pop! One man down. Two to go. The next two emerge, one darting for their friend in an attempt to save him. You take that opportunity to shoot. He's injured, but not dead yet when you feel something whiz by you. The third man, who'd taken your opportunity to his advantage is coming for you! Another bang comes from behind and you find yourself cowering, hands covering your head as you realize someone is shooting at you too! You're screwed.

The advancing man coughs, however, blood sputtering at his lips as he comes to a halt. With a shaky hand he lifts it to his stomach before you turn and see that it wasn't someone out to get you... but was someone protecting you? It was Zemo... and knowing him, you'd sooner guess that he was simply finishing the job so your friends can make a quick exit.

You watch as Buck leads Sharon and Sam down an aisle. With a quick look between the two, Zemo's closer. While you've been left behind, you chase after the Baron who's only a few feet ahead of you. Every few feet he slows down, head turning this way and that as you eventually realize he's reading the numbers on the shipping containers. While you have no idea why, you don't question him. He turns a corner and stops. Opening the latch, he spots you in his peripheral as he turns his head and waves you closer. "Get in."

While it's almost pitch black inside as the shipping containers parallel this one are stacked high enough to block out most of the sun, you can see the shadow of a large object. Gently guiding you further inside, there's a faint click before the container is illuminated. His flashlight, right. Why hadn't you thought of one of those? Or better yet, why didn't Sam, for God's sake? You'd think someone with more experience would've guessed what we were up against beforehand.

Lips parting in awe, you can't help but ogle the car for a moment as you don't think you've ever had the luxury of being in a convertible. "Hello," Zemo practically purrs, and you're more than sure it's for the car. After having seen his little collection back in Germany, it's clear he has a thing for them. "Ladies first," he teases. This time you know it's toward you, and while the car is pressed up against one of the walls of the container, it makes getting in the passenger's seat difficult. With that in mind, you simply opt for the back. Climbing in behind Zemo as he takes the driver's seat, you meet his eye in the rearview mirror as he adjusts it. "Like what you see?"

"Can't say you don't have taste," you joke. With that, you're out of there. The wind whips around you, and you're suddenly thankful you'd tied it back this morning as the car expertly swerves and maneuvers the crates. The car eventually rolls to a stop just before your friends. "Supercharged," Zemo touts, a small smirk tugging up the corner of his lips.

"You're going back to jail," Sam states, clearly unamused. You hadn't even had time to think about how Zemo found them before the banter began. Geez.

"Do you want to find Karli or not?" Zemo asks, trying to ration with him. An eyebrow quirked, you all wait for their response.

"He's right. We need him. There's two of us and at least twenty of them," Bucky defends. Opening the passenger side door, he climbs in. Sam opts for the back seat beside you. Any other time you might be offended that Bucky hadn't included you in the count, however you're sure he sees you more as a Bioengineer than a Fighter.

"Fine, but if you try that shit again," Sam warns, still eyeing Zemo skeptically.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Zemo quips smoothly. With a shake of your head and a roll of your eyes, you decide to chime in.

"Hey, at least I didn't let him get away," you point out. If there's anything you accomplished today, it was that.

"I saw that," Sam acknowledges, a chuckle escaping him as he shakes his head with a reluctant smile on his face.

"Well, that was one hell of a reunion," Sharon comments as she shuts the back seat door. Wait. She's not coming?

"Come back to the States with us," Sam offers in an attempt to persuade her.

"I told you, I can't. Just get me that pardon you promised me," she responds. With that, she's headed in the direction you'd come from. Fortunately, you know that you'd gotten every bounty hunter you'd come across. She should be alright, she can clearly handle herself. At least, that's what you tell yourself out of comfort.

"Thanks for everything," Sam calls after her. Sliding down into his seat, he turns his sight toward the seat in front of him. Where Bucky sits. "You're not gonna move your seat up, are you?"

"No," the soldier responds without hesitation. This elicits a chuckle on your behalf, though a pointed look from Sam is all it takes for you to pull your attention elsewhere.

--------

While you were out of leads and aboard Zemo's private jet once more, you have no idea where it's taking you all. Did Sam really intend on returning to the US and harboring a fugitive? Were you going to give up and just go home? The morose thoughts had consumed you since you'd gotten to safe space.

Eyes on Madripoor's city lights disappearing under the settling fog over the island, you can't help the incessant bouncing of your knee as worry brews within you. The recent memories of shooting those men in the shipyard gnaw at your moral scale; you may have never been directly involved with the Avengers, or your friend's antics, but that doesn't mean you hadn't done bad things in life. Yet... taking someone's life? That's on an entirely different scale, you fear. Sure, you could argue that they were after you and it was a matter of self defense, yes... but was it? Couldn't you have taken them out some other way? Rendered them unconscious?

Nevertheless, there's no point in arguing the different ways today could've unfolded when there's no way to change what happened. It doesn't change things. You killed two people, aided and abetted in more deaths. That's blood on your hands, something that despite the physical act of washing them of their blood, will never truly rid them of the true sentiment.

You can spot Zemo drying his hands off on a towel as he heads toward the galley in your peripheral, Sam pacing the short distance of the aisle repeatedly as he'd picked up a call you can only assume is business related.

"Donya Madani. She's a refugee, yeah," Sam explains over the phone. His voice stirs you from your internal war, the recipient on the other end must be done talking for now.

"I still don't understand how you can get service up here," you mutter jokingly to yourself. "Always thought the plane was supposed to explode or some shit if that happened." Head leant back against the jet's leather seat, you turn your attention onto Sam, watching him pace.

At this point you can deduce who's on the other end of the line. Joaquin must say something as Sam quiets again, the cabin silent for another moment, the only sound being that of the wind passing by the windows and the simultaneous quiet roar of the jet's engine.

"Okay. Call me if you get a hit," Sam instructs. Heart leaping in your chest, you know he's about to hang up.

"Say 'hi' for me, please!" You shout, not wanting Sam to ignore you, and to miss this opportunity. Joaquin's been your best friend since you were kids, after all, and you miss him. If today had shown you anything, it's that you weren't the only ones after the serum, and there were people willing to kill in order to protect it. Tomorrow is not guaranteed by any means.

"Thanks, Torres," Sam responds after another moment. "Oh, and-" Sam says your name, "says 'hi'." A light-hearted and audible huff of breath leaves the man as he plops back into his seat. "He says 'hi' back for the record." There's a tired smile on your lips as Sam releases a sigh. It's clear that exhaustion has consumed your group for the time being and rest is needed.

"You okay?" Bucky speaks up, turning his head toward your friend.

"Yeah," Sam responds, though it doesn't sound entirely convincing. "Just thinkin about all the shit Sharon had to go through. And Nagel referring to the American Test Subject like Isaiah wasn't even a real person." The Avenger sits up, turning to face the soldier. Your lips curl inward in a grimace as guilt sits heavy on your chest. Hopefully, Sam doesn't think of you the same.

There was a reason Nagel referred to 'Isaiah' like that. And while you might only just be learning the name of the test subject yourself, you have no idea of his background. The government did it on purpose. Most clinics do it intentionally; it's a way to keep things isolated and somewhat confidential. Almost like a doctor's confidentiality agreement. The government may know the details concerning Isaiah's specimen, but you, the scientists handling it were never to know.

And you know the only reason is to cover up America's hands getting dirty.

While you'd drifted into your own thoughts again while the boys were talking, you finally manage to tune back in. Whether they know the circumstances of your employment or not isn't really necessary at the moment.

"But maybe I made a mistake," Sam says. Though you're now lost as to what the topic's about.

"You did," Bucky agrees.

"Yeah," Sam continues, "Maybe I shouldn't have put it in a museum, maybe I should have destroyed it."

The shield. That damned thing, that's what this is about. Garnering your attention, you can't help but eavesdrop. Albeit, you're sure they know considering it's a small space. Not that you'd ever divulge any sensitive information if it were to come out.

"Look, that shield represents a lotta things to a lotta people, including me," Bucky points out. "The world is upside down, we need a new Cap, and it ain't gonna be Walker, so before you destroy it, I'll take it from him myself."

You wonder what Bucky's plan is, and how exactly he determines to do that... but you also know it's not your place to ask. It certainly isn't the time either, considering all of your emotional states. Just as the buzzing of someone's cellphone chimes throughout the cabin, Zemo returns. Plate in hand, he wordlessly offers you it. Dinner, you suppose.

"Thanks," you graciously respond while taking the plate into your hands and place it across your lap. A silent nod of his head, you take that as the closest thing to 'you're welcome' that you'll receive.

"Yeah?" Sam says. "Yeah... yeah. Okay." The boys, focused on the call, Sam listening while Bucky stares, as if trying to read the man and figure out what's going on before Sam can say, Zemo returns again. Two plates in his hands this time, he offers the men dinner as well. "Thanks, good work." As the Baron takes a seat beside the men, you all wait intently for whatever news it is Sam's gotten. "They found Madani. Dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea."

Sat in contemplation upon the revelation, Zemo suddenly points his finger, the motion catching your eye. "I have a place we can go," he announces. While none of you question it, you can't help but wonder about it. How many places does he have? And where? All across the globe? How long does his contact list go, exactly? Yet, the Baron sits back in his seat, an unreadable expression across his face. "I, for one, am looking forward to coming face to face with Karli." As you all process the change in plans, Zemo speaks up again. "Oeznik, we're changing the course."

--------

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @jynzandtonic , @safarigirlsp , @moonlightsolo , @penelopepine

tmt taglist: @wheres-mylove , @ashy-kit

[pastafossa]

Hey, Pasta! I have a sorta-dumb question, so feel free to ignore it. Soooo, I write fanfic-OC inserts a lot (Daredevil, TFAWS, Shadow and Bone, Daughter of Smoke and Bone), and I used to write the chapters - really more like oneshots - in a Gdoc and webshare it on Twitter because I hate plot and there was no need for any of that fancy fanfic page stuff. However, now that I'm on Tumblr, I have been told that the Gdoc method is insecure and troublesome (true) and that I should, if I may quote my sister, "Just post it in AO3 if you're gonna write so much."

I have the common writer's anxiety, so I've never been comfortable with sharing my work in such a public manner, but I decided that I may just make an AO3 account. But! I wanted the opinion of 1) a seasoned AO3er and 2) a writer I like and admire, so my question for you is: Is AO3 a site that you'd recommend/do you feel like there's a good community over there? Tysm!

This isn't a dumb question at all, and I totally get the anxiety to post in a more public way (and also thank you so much!)! So I've been on AO3 for about seven years now between my Pasta account and my old account. Before that I was a kid posting my first fics on ffn, I tried LiveJournal at one point, and I've obviously posted on tumblr, so I've tried a faaaairly wide variety of fic sites save for something like wattpad. And I have to say, even with its hiccups, AO3 is hands down my favorite fic site to write on, my favorite site to read on, and - imo - the best fic site out there for posting.

The tagging system is unmatched once you get the hang of it, and it makes it so, so gd easy for readers to find your fic based on whatever niche tropes or tags they might be looking for.

The way you can group fics together in a series is incredibly convenient.

They work hard to protect your fics and fic culture, defending it both from larger corporate entities and from puritans who believe fic shouldn’t exist - your content won’t every be swept away overnight like in the ffn purges of 2007 and 2012.

If your fic is plagiarized, they work fast. It took me less than 2 days to get a response from their team when dealing with the plagiarist last week.

No advertising, so not only are they not bound to rules by said advertisers, but your readers are free to read fic uninterrupted by ads (as always, consider donating if you can since they run on donations and are composed largely of volunteers!).

As the number 1 fic site, people will usually search for fics here first, so if you’re looking for readers or a community, this is the place to go.

As a writer, if you’re worried about troll comments, you can set each fic’s comment section to only registered users (so no guest comments). This weeds out the vast majority of trolls since most don’t want to go to the effort of making an account and waiting to get in. You will still sometimes get people willing to do that, or who’ll still go at you with their actual accounts, but I’ve found far less of an issue on AO3 than elsewhere - you can even set it, in that case, to ‘no comments’ or report the comments to AO3.

In my personal experience, the community is far friendlier on AO3 than on other fic posting sites. Probably 95% of my interactions and the reactions I see in other comment sections are positive, and the 5% is broken down 50/50 between either unintentional rudeness or actual trolls, which is manageable.

A few cons, in the interest of full disclosure, although ultimately I feel these are worth it for such a good site:

The site is mostly staffed by volunteers, and while they do their best, functionality updates can take considerable time. We only recently got a block button (preventing certain users from interacting on your fic), for example, and a mute button (so you no longer see fics from certain users) is still a ways off.

Comments are rare. I know there’s a ton of comments on TRT, and I am incredibly grateful for it and for the way it slides into comments on my other fics, but outside of big fics like that, interaction is a lot lower and it’s just something to know going in (although if you’re going from twitter into a fairly popular ship and/or large fandom, you might get way more interactions than from posting on twitter, so it’s all relative!). This is something I’ve found on most sites, and it’s the exact same way on AO3. Your hits will be highest, followed by kudos, and then comments. Generally speaking on oneshots, a 10% kudos to hits ratio early on (before repeat readers begin to push hits higher, since you can only kudos once but add a hit multiple times) is considered quite good. Lower that further for comments. After a bit, stop tracking the ratio because ultimately it’ll become meaningless, especially for chaptered fics where folks come back to read new chapters.

If you’re writing in google docs and try to copy+paste that into AO3′s form as is, you will learn very quickly that ao3 hates google doc formatting. You’ll get weird spaces where they don’t belong (especially if you use italics), the spacing will get fucked, all sorts of hiccups. I use the method from this tumblr post as a workaround. It’s a few extra steps but it’ll help you loads.

Speaking of: using their form to submit a fic definitely takes some getting used to. It’s a bit clunky I’m told, compared to other sites, but stick with it. My biggest advice here is, after pasting your fic in, do not post it yet. Use the preview function to see just how all the formatting is going to turn out. I’ve often found that it looks fine until I preview, and only then do formatting issues show up, which I can then fix. Again, extra work, but worth it for the pros listed above.

Honestly those are the only cons I can think of, and all of them are generally things you can either work around or adjust to as a writer posting there. They’re also absolutely worth it for such a good site, imo, and it’s the best I’ve found out of all of them. I have zero regrets posting on AO3 instead of another site. And I think you’ll come to love it, too, if you decide to join up!

[mezmerwrites]

MEZMERS WIP

ALL MY WORK CONTAINS SMUT. MINORS DNI!

Eddie munson x roommate!reader

AUish set years after s4, Corroded Coffin needs a new drummer and reader needs a place to crash.

2 parts, it's already 9k words 💀

eddie munson x new girl!oc

Celeste is new to Hawkins, moving right into Forrest Hills Trailer Park. Starts before S4 but will follow s4, a fix it fic.

I haven't broken this into parts yet, but I'm thinking close to 30. Oops.

Bucky Barnes x oc (may make this reader insert)

Follows TFAWS

Multiple parts

Steve Harrington X Reader (if you're in, I'm in)

-im still writing this! I took a break to write some other things I was inspired to write.

[sunlightdances]

Honey Slow

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Original Fem Character (unnamed, could also be read as reader insert) Summary: It always takes Bucky an extra two days to get to Sam and Sarah’s place. He’s always really tight lipped about it. Author’s Note: If you thought I was going to watch TFAWS and not write Bucky Barnes fic, you were sorely mistaken.  Disclaimer: I don’t own Marvel or any associated characters, just borrowing them for a bit. The title is also a song by Colton Venner, with lovely lyrics. Please don’t repost anywhere without my permission! I’d love it if you reblogged.

Bucky sighs as he gets out of the car, seeing Sam on the front porch steps looking like a disappointed father. His arms are crossed over his chest, tapping his toe.

“You were supposed to be here two days ago.” He says.

“I took the scenic route.” Bucky says, tucking his sunglasses into his pocket. “I like the drive.”

“Uh huh. You can tell Sarah that. She made a plate for you and it sat there, all alone and miserable looking…”

Bucky rolls his eyes, opening the back door of the car and grabbing his bag. “Okay, okay, I get it. I did check in with you, you know.”

Bucky can see the look on Sam’s face, and can see what he’s not saying. He feels it too. Hard to get rid of the feeling, even after all these years. Hard to tell yourself that just because you can’t see someone, they’re still okay and alive.

“Bucky!” They’re interrupted by the kids barrelling out of the house and launching themselves at the man.

“That’s Sergeant Barnes to you, rugrats.”

“Yes sir!” They echo each other, saluting him.

“For Christ’s sake.” Sam mutters. “Let’s go, in the house, in the house.”

Bucky, thankful to avoid the inquisition, heads inside with the boys. He really doesn’t feel like getting into every detail of his road trip with Sam, at least not now.

Sarah is mercifully understanding, even tells Sam to lay off.

“I’m just saying. It’s suspicious.”

“You’re suspicious, Cap.” Bucky mutters under his breath, shoveling another forkful of apple pie into his mouth.

He likes being at Sam’s place. It’s quiet. Their friends and neighbors have kept it pretty quiet, about where Captain America lives. They make sure people who come poking around don’t get too much information.

Bucky suspects that they’ve been keeping quiet about him, too. It warms him inside to think that he’s considered part of this family.

It’s taken him a long time to put down roots. Even now, he floats between Brooklyn, DC, and Louisiana. He just can’t seem to find a place that feels like home.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Sam’s voice floats through the air. “I know you’re keeping something from me.”

Bucky scoffs. “Like you tell me everything.”

“Fine, fine.” Sam sighs, sitting down on the steps next to Bucky. “Keep your secrets. Just-- you’re not into anything, are you?”

Bucky turns his head slowly. “No. You think I’d keep that from you?”

Sam puts his hands up in surrender. “I had to ask.”

“Just-- let me keep this to myself for a while longer.” He makes eye contact with Sam. “Okay?”

Sam’s quiet for a minute. “Yeah. Okay.”

Bucky stays for a few days. He helps with some repairs around the house, and some on the boat. He plays with the kids, and he and Sam spar. He runs.

Three days later, he hits the road.

He meanders down two-lane highways, windows down, music loud. His heart beats a little harder when he pulls into her driveway. The lights are on inside, and he takes a second to watch her silhouette. He feels as nervous as he did the day he met her.

The window slides open. “Are you going to sit out there all day?” She asks, her voice carrying, and he smirks.

“Maybe. Enjoying the view.”

She rolls her eyes, and shuts the window again. He takes that as his cue and gets out of the car, tucking his keys into his pocket as he jogs up the front walkway and to the front door. The door opens before he gets there, and he takes her in, hair tied up loosely and barefoot. He likes her like this.

“Hi.” He says. He wants to roll his eyes at himself - his palms are sweaty.

“Hi there.” She smiles.

“Gonna let me in?”

She grins wider. “Maybe.”

Her smile lights him up. Four months ago, on his trip back to New York, he stopped in a small town for something to eat, a cup of coffee, and a book. The bookstore was charming, and the owner even more so. She smiled at him then just like she is now, and he still can’t fathom that he gets to be with her like this.

“Sergeant Barnes. Good to see you.”

“You too, ma’am.”

“You’re late.” She opens the door wide enough that he can push past her.

“I was being held against my will.”

She snickers. “You were not.” She joins him in the kitchen, and starts to pour them both a glass of whiskey. “Did you have a good time?”

He nods. “Always do.” He looks down, and then sneaks another look at her. “Missed you.”

She looks pleased, but tries to play it off. “I saw you five days ago.”

He shrugs. “Still missed you.” He decides to just play all his cards and moves a little closer. This is still new. He’s not really sure what he’s doing. He is sure that he cares about her. She’s been another bright spot as he tries to figure out who he is.

She doesn’t know him, not really, not outside of what she learned a million years ago in middle school. But to her -- he’s just Bucky.

He gets to write his own story this time.

“I might have missed you a little bit, too.” She says, coy.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t get too smug.”

He laughs. “Me? Never.” Even closer now, he crowds her against the counter, just slightly, just so she has to look up a little bit to make eye contact with him. Her perfume is something earthy mixed with vanilla.

“You’re like a furnace.”

He tilts his head to one side. “Unfortunate side effect.”

She hums. “Not for me; I’m always cold.”

“Good thing you met me then.”

“Good thing.” She agrees.

Finally, she closes the distance. Her kiss is sure, slow, and sets his head spinning. He feels like honey is running through his veins, warming him from the inside out.

“There.” She whispers. “Now sit down, I have dinner for you.”

“You didn’t have to go to the trouble--”

“It’s no trouble, Bucky.”

They sit down at the table together, knees touching as they eat. He keeps stealing glances at her, and she just shakes her head. He stops drinking before she does, even though he barely feels a buzz. Never does, these days.

“You’re staring again.”

“I’ve been told.” He says, smirking. “Listen, I… what would you think about going to Louisiana with me next time?”

She pauses, setting her fork down slowly. “Really?”

He nods. He’s ready, he thinks. There’s always the fear. The fear that it’s all going to be too much, or even worse, the fear that he’s going to put a target on the back of anyone he cares for. He’s tired of being scared. He trusts Sam. He trusts Sarah. He knows the kids would love her. And most important of all, he trusts her.

“No pressure.” He says. “Just -- I think Sam probably knows. Or suspects, anyway. He’d like you. You’d like him, too.”

“Who wouldn’t like Sam Wilson?” She says, winking.

Bucky rolls his eyes, relief rushing through him at the sight of her smiling. “Make sure you say that in front of him. It’s good for his ego.”

She leans in a little closer. “I’m… I’m serious about this, Bucky. About me and you. If you are.”

“I am.” He tries to show her, tries to make her see it in his eyes. He wants to be selfish, for once.

“Alright then. Next time you’re on your way down, you can pick me up in that nice car of yours. Just give me enough notice so I can close the shop for the weekend or get someone to cover.”

His heart swells. He pictures the two of them in his car, her hair highlighted by the sun and their hands wound together tightly. He’ll have time to be anxious about the introduction to Sam when they cross that bridge, but for now he’s content with the fact that she wants to do this. That she wants to be with him and wants to meet the people who are important to him.

There’s someone on that list he wishes she could meet. But for now, this is good. This is really good, and he says another prayer that he was given a third, fourth, and even fifth chance. They brought him to her.

That night when he falls asleep, he doesn’t have a single nightmare. He barely even dreams, except for one vision of her, that smile he loves so much the only thing on his mind.

[squishneedsahero]

Eye- idk but like I finished it… I’ll release it later today

This would be why I haven’t released anything new in the last week… I might break it into two parts cause I’m maybe halfway through 🥴

[sweetkingdomstarlight-blog]

Author Spotlight

Hiii again everyone!!

Today I want to recommend @awesomerextyphoon​, one of the genuinely best people on this hellsite. Her masterlist is absolutely full of gems and she writes black reader inserts and we all know there aren’t enough of them on here.

Her stories are fantastical, she builds worlds and stories like no one I have ever read before, my personal favourite is her ongoing series a warriors heart her OFC Ife is complex but relatable and it won’t take you long to want to know everything about her.

If you want a one shot instead then read don’t tell me I LOVED it so so much and I know you will too.

Lastly she’s just lush, I adore her and I get to talk to her about our stories (as well as screaming about tfaws together).

GO FOLLOW HER

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Three: Fate Rewritten

The Missing Title

Helmut Zemo x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: After bumping into Sharon, you're escorted back to her apartment in High-Town. What lies in wait is way more than you'd anticipated in store for your night.

Words: 6.4k

Warnings: Partying, Alcohol, Power Dynamics, Semi-Smutty, Inferences toward sex, Age Gap

Mentions of: Government, Betrayal, Treason, Hypocrisy, Grief

A/N: I've been waiting so long to get to this part! Ahhh, I feel like this is really when things will start to change, considering the reader's backstory and her growing relationships with the guys. Not to mention that some of the main plot points are finally being set in motion. I decided to not fully wind up writing them together since the chapter got so long, but I'm sure it'll def pop up in flashbacks later on down the line.

It's safe to say that you're more than a little out of it by the time you guys get into Sharon's vehicle. She insists on driving, and the guys need a good view of Zemo to make sure he's in check. That leaves the three of you in the back: Sam, you, and Bucky. As your journey takes you back a similar way you'd come, you can't help but still be fascinated with the lights. What's Sharon got in store for you all? What's her plan? While you're not super familiar with her, you wonder what she was doing in Low Town Madripoor in the first place. Surely, she hasn't been following you all this whole time.

Once she parks outside a luxury-style apartment, you follow Sam out the back door and follow Sharon into her place. "Woah," you whisper, taking in the fact that not only one security guard--slash--doorman stands out front, but two. Through a big metal sliding door lies an art exhibit, glass containers lined with neon blue lights illuminate different sculptures and craftsmanship. Real antique and pricey-looking things.

"Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well," Sam comments as he walks beside Sharon alongside the containers. Whatever she'd been going through when you'd first had your run-in has clearly dissipated as she seems to come to life upon Sam's teasing.

"Well, at some point I thought if I had to hustle, might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler. You know how much I can get for a real Monet?" She asks, gesticulating with her arms as she explains her situation. While Zemo lingers a few steps behind you with Bucky trailing, you can't help but slow your steps upon this information.

"Easy, deactivate your hustle mode," Sam warns, "You sell fake Monets." He wants to clarify. While Sharon might pretend to allude to a profited criminal life such as Zemo, Sam clearly thinks she's a goodie-two-shoes.

"No, she means real. This gallery specializes in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics," Zemo explains nonchalantly as he follows Sharon, continuing to round the exhibit.

"So it's true then? What they say..." You ask them, eyes shifting from Zemo onto Sharon, then finally Bucky who stands a few feet before you while Sam occupies the space by your side.

"It's true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this," Bucky answers, eyes still taking in the pastel-dotted canvas.

"There's no way," you whisper to yourself, voice trailing off as you take in the scenery. Heading down the two steps, you approach Bucky's side, eyes scanning over the Monet painting before you. You've seen his other works in museums, though now you know they were fakes. Regardless, you don't think you'd be able to tell the difference.

"Okay, guys, I see what you're doing. You're more worldly than good old Sam," your friend complains, still stationed where you stood a few moments ago.

"Yeah? What's Google say?" Bucky asks, a playful tone curling around his words as he physically rounds Sam. This elicits your attention as you shift your gaze onto Sam, glad he's now enlightened onto the, well... not-so theory of conspiracy you and Bucky both seem to know about.

"No shit," Sam exclaims, clearly bewildered by the thought. In all honesty, you can't blame him. To think people would do something so greedy and frivolous? Useless? It takes seeing it firsthand to really believe, and it seems Sam's eyes are finally opening to that aspect.

"Come on, guys-" Sharon calls from the stairs, Zemo waiting a few steps behind her as they stare in your general direction. "You need to change. I'm hosting clients in an hour," She informs.

While you don't question her, you are curious as to what sort of clients and business she does... besides selling art, that is. There's a world of art, of course, yet you know that there's only so much a lifestyle of it can afford. Following the group upstairs, you're taken aback by the fact that this whole place is starting to seem like Sharon's.

"Of course, I've got all this stuff out here for you guys-" Sharon eyes the men, "-but I've got a few things you can borrow for tonight. Come with me," she commands.

Following Sharon through a series of archways and pristine doors you find yourself in a massive bedroom. Intricate patterns are embroidered on the comforter, and through an open doorway, you can see that there's a walk-in closet. It's precisely where she's led you, her hands gesturing for you to follow. "I know. Nice right? Every girl needs a walk-in," she comments before chuckling to herself.

Taken aback by the wide array of shoes on the shelves, purses on hangars, coats, dresses, pants, and shirts all hang neatly in their place, their own rack for each category of piece. Though you aren't sure where to even start, let alone if you even want to. Everything is too expensive, you couldn't possibly use them. Sharon speaks up.

Her fingers run across the fabric, only stopping once she spots something, though her back is to you and therefore your view is obscured. "Try this on, I have the shoes to go with them and together? I'm sure you'll have a great night!" She says over her shoulder before winking. With a quick hand she tosses the hangar to you, which you scramble to catch. "I'll see you downstairs, then."

The dress is a plain black fabric, a halter top cut, two slits on either side of your hips at the start of your thighs. It's a little more exposing than what Zemo had picked, though with everything that's happened tonight, you feel for some reason that you can't bring yourself to care. If someone sees something, it's not like it's the end of the world. Besides, with this dress you could wear a thong or panties. Though the panties would have to be matching or sexy, intentionally meant to be seen as a fashion statement. Deciding to just go for the dress, no bra needed and your panties already discarded, you're glad for the comfy snug fit the fabric offers. It's far more stretchy and accommodating than Zemo's. The shoes you have on work, the only thing left to do is to put your hair up. Finding a claw clip on Sharon's vanity, you figure she won't mind if you borrow it for tonight. After all, it's a lot less intimate than a dress.

With a wet wipe from the bathroom, you're all good to go. Makeup is natural enough to pass as anyone, hair is different, so is your dress, and while the shoes may not be, with the darkness of the gallery you're sure no one will notice. Especially not if there's going to be drinking; and no good party lacks a variety of drink. Heading back to the foyer Sharon had originally brought you to, you find the guys settling in nicely.

Taking in the intricate pieces placed throughout the room, you inspect each one carefully. "Much better," Sharon comments, heels clicking against the wooden floors announcing her return.

"What's going on, Sharon? You don't ever wanna come back home?" Sam asks. The shuffle of fabric and the faint tinkling of metal tells you he's changing his shirt again! Trying to find something suitable for him is practically impossible, and this, you swear. Out of your peripheral vision, you see Sharon place something on the arm of the couch while Zemo stands by the bar.

"They'll lock me up if I ever step foot back in the States. Madripoor doesn't allow extradition," She informs.

"Good to know," you joke to yourself. Fingers running along the smooth wood of the desk behind the couch, you don't notice how the comment seems to have everyone's eyes lingering on you for a moment before Sam chuckles and shakes his head.

"Look, sorry I didn't call, but after the Blip and the chaos, I just..." He attempts. This piques your interest, not initially intent on eavesdropping, though this sounds like something a lover might say. Did Sam and Sharon-? You don't wanna know... do you?

"Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right?" Her tone softens, a genuine question reaching out to form some sort of connection. An attempt to regain a friendship, you think. "I mean the way you gave up that shield, deep down you must know it's all hypocrisy."

Eyes rising from the necklace displayed by the clothes rack, your eyebrows furrow in surprise. Wasn't Sharon CIA? To join the government so outright, then denounce it only a few years later? Something's fishy about it and eerie in a way you don't like. Even if what she's saying elicits a subconscious subtle nod of your head.

"He knows. And not so deep down," Zemo comments with a raise of his drink. This garners everyone's attention for a moment. You can't help but stare as you linger on him. Curious... Questioning.

"By the way, how is the new Cap?" Sharon asks, hands in her pockets. You aren't CIA by any means, but you know how to read body language. She's clearly got her guard up, but for what? You're not sure.

"Don't get me started," Bucky groans.

"Please, you buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit," Sharon argues. You round the room, peeking through the windowed panes of the glass doors into surrounding rooms to see what goodies lie there. If the rooms you've seen so far are anything to go by, you're sure the rest of the apartment complex is loaded with treasures. "Before you were his pet psychopath-" it doesn't take looking to know she's referring to Zemo, considering her positioning and emphasis, "-you were Mr. America! Cap's best friend."

Although you don't comment, you can't help the way your lips curl inward in a silent attempt at holding back any sort of chortle or chuckle from emerging.

"Wow. She's kind of awful now," Bucky comments. While you might guess he may be joking sarcastically, you can't be sure. Is he just insulting her? Being passive-aggressive? You can't tell.

"Karli Morgenthau and at least seven others have taken the serum," Sam informs, passing you as he rounds the couch the other way and sits across from Bucky.

"You guys really should steer clear of all this for your own safety," Sharon warns. Being in Madripoor and clearly in a position of wealth and selling artwork underground, she must know the rumors.

"We know it's a risk, but we won't leave until we find the person who cracked the code," Sam responds, unfazed and defiant of her advice. Elbows on his knees he leans in closer.

"We got a name. Wilfred Nagel," Bucky discloses. Sharon gets up and crosses Bucky to get to the bar, Zemo gets out of her way and walks toward you to sit in the lone chair by the side table.

"Nagel works for the Power Broker," Sharon replies. A dissatisfied hum rumbles in your chest. You don't want to think about the past, nor worry about how you're going to find the Power Broker to stop the supplier.

"We need your help, Sharon. I can get your name cleared," Sam offers, all the men's eyes intent on her as she pours a drink. Fingers running over the edge of a tapestry hung on the opposite wall, you listen intently.

"You haggling with my life?" She asks, tone sounding genuine to you.

"Not like that," Sam corrects.

"I don't buy that," She responds, and really, you can't blame her. "You pretending like you can clear my name."

You have to admit that Sharon is starting to grow on you in some sense. She's smart, that much is clear. While you don't outwardly boast the things you know will be demonized, she does, and you can respect her for that, if anything. Though you haven't weighed in much, you've been listening. Of course everyone has their judgments and suspicions, and while you may be leaping to conclusions, there's a fishy suspicion brewing in your mind. You only wonder if anyone else is catching onto what Sharon is putting down. Eyes flickering over to Zemo for a moment, you notice him meet your gaze. Immediately looking back to Sharon, you can't help the tiny smile that snags at your lips, blush forming on your cheeks. Originally intending to gather intel, for some reason you couldn't handle the pressure of his gaze.

"-I'm willing to try if you are," you zone back in on what they're saying. "They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he's met," Sam points out. A chuckle escapes your lips and you shrink in on yourself, not having expected that.

"-I heard that," Bucky comments to Sam, though his eyes and dissatisfied look are aimed at you. You don't even have to see it from your peripheral to feel his stare, the sense of it sending an internal sort of shiver down your spine.

"I don't trust charity," Sharon posits, intent on finishing their conversation.

"All right, a deal then. You help us out, and we get your name cleared." Sharon accepts Sam's extended hand and they shake on it. Downing her drink, she places the used tumbler aside and starts toward the door you'd entered from.

"Well, I sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party. Try to stay outta trouble. I'll see what I can find." With that, she's out of the foyer and onto whatever business it is that she's doing.

"Trouble," Zemo repeats playfully with a shrug of his shoulders, a mischievous look in his eyes.

"Yeah, that's what you better not be," you warn. Eyes meeting his, you can't help but find that his playfulness has spread to you, even if you know you can switch into gear and act in accordance with the mission if need be.

"Well, you know me," Zemo taunts. With a swig of his drink, he lays the finished glass atop the coaster on the table beside his chair.

"That's the problem," Bucky quips, standing as Zemo moves to follow where Sharon had gone.

--------

You have to admit, with wherever Sharon stands in your likes, she can throw a good party... that much is clear. Originally determined to view all the authentic art pieces lingering around the gallery, it hadn't actually taken as long as you'd have thought. With a drink or two offered along the way, you can feel yourself start to loosen up. Hors d'oeuvres are littered throughout the party, and with Sharon being such the great hostess, you hardly feel the usual sense of guilt for indulging when it comes to fancy parties. It also doesn't help that they're really good and you hadn't eaten a lot, really, since Zemo's jet was scarce of in-date snacks. Eating expired foods wasn't really a risk you were willing to participate in today.

As the night goes on you find your way to the dance floor after a little persuasion from Sam. While you all might still be focused on your mission, the excuse of blending in is one of necessity. It's not really a party if there isn't dancing, right? The Avenger eventually decides to ditch you in favor of making small talk with some of the other partygoers. He's most likely trying to seek information, knowing him.

Dancing with Sam was different than dancing with Zemo. You hadn't anticipated for this to happen, but considering he's maintained a central viewpoint for the boys, that just so happens to be the dance floor. He's discarded his jacket at some point clearly as his chest is in full display in the plum sweater he's donning. It'd started off friendly, simply busting out your lamest dance moves for fun in the same vicinity. Yet, as the songs played on and you grew closer in distance to make conversation, the vibe between you shifted.

There's a reason they say not to mix drinks... and now you know why. It takes a matter of a half hour for your resolve to break, the inner dialogue, the constant fighting of the comical angel and demon on either shoulder bickering with one another. Overall, the devil had won- there was no use in denying what you want, that you have a plan, and are pursuing it. You're going after what you want. Using any chance to get closer, any excuse to feel his hands on you. the recent memory of his hot breath fanning across your neck, the spark when your lips met... it's still heavy on your mind and hot in your blood.

"You should know this one," you joke across the few feet between you as you sway to the music, the beat of the music ramping up, the bass and beats getting faster and faster toward that familiar climax you all know so well. 'There's not a soul out there-' bouncing to the rhythm, you let your hips sway as your arms find their way above your head.

'Give Me,

Give Me,

Give Me A Man After Midnight~'

It's a remix, the techno music is very different from the original, however, you can't deny you enjoy the song. It's fitting if nothing else. If anyone were to ask why you want this, you couldn't explain it--not rationally--and looks aren't a good enough reason, you know that better than anyone. While there are certain characteristics that could be said of his mannerisms and personality, you wouldn't dare to compliment or lead to the ego of a madman overextending its peace. Many would argue it already had, after all.

He doesn't seem to mind either. Whether you're simply keeping up the act, even if it's unnecessary here, you both find yourselves indulging in the ambiance around you. Breath heavy with the adrenaline of dancing and the higher temperature of lots of bodies on the dance floor, you're being bumped and jostled by the people around you. His hand extends at some point, loosely wrapping around your waist as the two of you draw nearer to one another. Over all, it's safe to say that Sharon may just have predicted your 'great night'.

As it draws closer to the wee hours of the morning, Sam makes his way around to advise you all of making it an early night. Tomorrow is supposed to be busy, so it makes sense. While the four of you head upstairs in a staggered manner, you find that once you're changed and sat on the bed that you still don't feel ready to officially end the night. Eyes drawn to the red dress and accompanying apparel you'd borrowed earlier, you can't help the thoughts that follow. However lewd they may be, it doesn't stop your mind from drawing up a vague plan.

Part of you knows it's a bad idea, that you shouldn't do this, but then again... what's the worse it could lead to? A one night stand? There's no reason that leads you to believe, rationally, that any of the same thoughts are going through his head at all. Therefore, you continue your trapse down the hallway. The wooden floors creak every so often, and you don't miss the way that Sam's clicking fingers on the keyboard come to a momentary halt before returning to its previous pace. It'd go unnoticed if you didn't know better, but you know he's well aware of your presence, just as you are of his.

You'd already thought this through--the excuse--the lie. It's a shame, really, to have to lie to a friend whom you love dearly... yet, you know there's no telling the truth in this circumstance. Yet, there is... isn't there? After all, you know it'd be taking a play from Zemo's book, you're sure, no doubt, but anyone who's smart knows that all lies hold some semblance of the truth. Hence, your excuse; smooth and comforting material weighing your hands down by your stomach, you're about to walk past the back of the couch when his soft voice stops you.

"You're going to visit him?" It's a reasonable question, a check-in. Something to note, since, he is a criminal... a dangerous person. Someone to be kept in check. Unpredictable, as they'd said.

"Just returning these," you answer, lifting the bundle of clothing and the accessories of your disguise for Sam's viewing.

"I'm sure he could care less, but, by all means-" Sam extends his hand in the direction of the hallway. "If he tries anything-"

"-call out, I got it. I'm only planning on dropping this off. Maybe asking him something if he's up for conversation. But it shouldn't be too long. Don't worry," you attempt to reassure him. "You should get some sleep soon, too, you know? Especially if we're to do this in the morning," you shift the topic, intent on reminding him of what you hope is tiredness showing, even if the bags under his eyes grow heavier with the hours.

With a nod in your direction, Sam lets his attention drift back to the computer screen, intent on whatever work it is he has waiting within the digital world. Though you'd like to say this relieves you, lifts a burden from your shoulder, it only makes the weight on them sink further into you. Whether it's dread, guilt, or shame at all of the incredulous scenarios that run through your mind in possible what-ifs of the conversation to play out between you and the Baron, you can't do anything but shake your head in an attempt to dissuade them. Bare feet padding across the wooden floor, you notice how the dim light that peeks from under the door gives your heart a reason to speed up. Really, its the realization that you've never truly been alone with this man since you've met. The rumors, perhaps, the danger they claim he holds... the possibility of a supposed madman snapping at any point is equal parts exhilarating and yet, still terrifying. At least when you let yourself truly contemplate this fact.

With a hesitancy at the door, you lift your small fist up to the carved oak, lingering... debating. While you'd thought all resolve had fled the moments after you'd downed your fifth shot... the buzz of alcohol has long since seemed to dwindle away from your mind, the accelerating carefree feeling emptied from your veins and replaced by the cautiousness of someone who Sam would tease is entirely, all you. Determined to defy the limits of the box your closest friends place you in for one reason or another, you gently knock on the door.

There's no response. Something you'd expect, if not for the way that there's a shuffle of fabric and then a sigh on the other side. "Come in." Cold golden ornate knob within your grasp, you turn it and push the heavy door open enough for you to slip inside before quietly closing it behind you.

"Hi." It's the first word that comes to mind, the only thing you can think to say, to break the silence between you as he takes in your bare goosebump-riddled legs and the satin robe you have on.

"Hello," he returns the sentiment, unmoving from his position, torso upright against the headboard as he lies in bed, legs outstretched before him. "What a surprise to see you, Schön. Though I should've guessed from the light footsteps and quiet knock. James would certainly not allow me a moment of privacy, nor Sam." Sitting up a little straighter, his hands clasp in his lap. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Swallowing your shyness, as you can't simply stare at him forever--that'd be far too embarrassing--you lift your arms a bit for emphasis. "I thought I would return these to you." There's a wooden chair with a striped pattern of cloth covering the cushiony seat standing by the vanity. That's where you place the pile of folded clothing and shoes. Although you're no longer facing him, you can feel his gaze lingering on your figure. When you turn around again, he has his head tilted, no doubt thinking about something.

"You can keep the clothes, Schön, I don't need them back. However, I'm sure you knew that. Why are you really here?" He questions.

"What if I really was just here to return the clothing?" You offer, mirroring him unconsciously with a little tilt of your own head.

"Then I'd say you're courteous, and ask how you liked the outfit I picked out for you," he retorts. Even from across the room, you can spot a flicker of something within his irises. Whether he's playing with you, toying with you, or testing you, you're unsure. This question, however, puts you on the spot. A bemused smile graces your lips and you don't try to hide it. Taking in his state of wealth, you decide not to comment on how expensive you thought everything was, as you'd rather not know. It's better to play on his level.

"I... thought it was very nice. Not something I'd normally wear, but for a nice evening out, I think it was a good pick. The shoes were cool, the gems on the back," you recount.

"The color suited you wonderfully. Brought out your features, just as I'd predicted," he comments with a somewhat smug look upon his face. Seemingly half-placated with the notion, though there's still something gnawing at the seams of his resolve. "There's another reason you're here, whether you're willing to admit it or not." This is a test, you're well aware.

"Mmm," the hum leaves your lips before you can even begin to think of a retort. Turning on your spot, you can't help but run your fingers along the carved wooden back of the chair, walking your fingers along it and taking a step further into the room as you think. "Am I?" You stop moving, offering a look in his direction. "What if I said that you intrigue me? That I wanted to ask you how you do it?" You posit.

Tongue sneaking out to wet his lips, the Baron listens intently. Though he silently chuckles to himself at you returning his question with another question, the second half of your thoughts elicit a narrowing of his eyes. This notion has caused pause for his own thought. "Do... what, Schatz?" He plays along, subconsciously leaning a little closer despite being across the room.

Though the various thoughts and moments from tonight race across your mind, there's one theme that you can't bear to continue reliving. One thought, one realization that you know will have you getting nowhere in the coming days. Jaw threatening to clench down on itself, you can't help but sigh as your hands ball up into fists by your sides. "I... tonight, I just noticed how... in every instance, no matter what seemed to be going on, you... didn't seem scared. Like nothing fazed you," it comes out a whisper. Those final words. Though you'd been trying to search for the right words, everything came out how it wanted to, yet in the end you couldn't help but whisper the truth. It seemed like nothing fazed him. Meanwhile you... were downright terrified. Scared in a way no one has made you feel. Ever. And the worst of it is that you know it's not over. Tomorrow you will get up, alongside the rest of your friends and acquaintances and get geared up and ready to face a man who's only haunted your past.

"Oh..." Zemo responds, your name falling off his lips as if you were simply a child, a silly girl that he feels pity for. Something shifted in his demeanor by the time you finally raise your eyes to meet him again, not sure when you had dropped your vision to the floor. Possibly too embarrassed to admit the truth.

It's this moment... that's when things changed, you think. Time settles in the space between you, the air thick and heavy with confusion and a cluster of effervescent emotions bubbling up and out of you both into the air, a swirling and confusing domination of raw emotion. There's no denying what's there; the truth, the matter of your age held right before you in time like a reflection of your souls. While you'd both endured a heaviness of trauma encumbered in your life time and time again, there's no denying that he's the older man, that he's experienced more... seen more, done more, lived more. And you... well, let's save the stereotype for literature digests, will you?

"Don't-" you warn, the rise of embarrassment hitting you like a brick wall as you begin to march toward the door with a speed that leaves him in a whirlwind. What surprises you both, however, is the way that as soon as your hand is reaching for the doorknob, his is roughly placed atop it. His hand effectively trapping yours underneath. You hadn't even heard him get up, yet you can feel the heat coming off his body only inches away.

"Come," he beckons, "listen." With gentle hands he peels yours away from the knob as he guides you over to the side of the bed, simply sitting. A pat of his free hand on the empty space beside him lets you know what he wants. Really, you'd want it too... if it weren't for the conflicting emotions in your stomach making you want to tear up.

He seems to pick up on your hesitance as he stands once more, hands tentatively moving to ghost over your shoulders, tacitly asking for your permission. When you don't push him away, he places them on you, hands encompassing your satin-covered shoulders. "You have to understand, Meine Süße," he starts, voice holding a softer tone than you've ever heard him use. "I joined my country's military as soon as I was eligible. From the time I was a recruit to the time I eventually became a Colonel..." Zemo sighs as he tears his gaze from you, the motion eliciting your gaze on him in turn. "The point is, I have been through more, seen more, than you and anyone will ever know. And despite my training, the truth still remains... disregarded by most."

Soft hand sliding down your shoulder to your wrist, his long fingers gently wrap around it as he guides you toward the bed. Sitting, you follow suit beside him, shoulder to shoulder as his arm winds its way around your shoulder. "As I see it, there is only reason to be afraid of death if one feels they have something left to live for. Would you agree?" While speaking you'd noticed his gaze, even if no longer stationed on you, become more far off and glazed over. As you silently ponder on his words, his eyes find your face, gauging you no doubt.

"Yeah, I suppose so... though are you saying you don't have anything left to live for?" You prod, eyes shifting between his as you attempt to read him, the two of you finally making eye contact once more.

"I did, once, yes. Though your friends would most likely also claim my recklessness only provides evidence for this theory," he answers. Zemo may not mention it explicitly, but you know that he's referring to his family. You'd heard the stories from Sam, the details from Bucky. That's why he tried to destroy the Avengers. Or did, considering the rift he'd created.

"Maybe... but you know that most people would argue that when you don't feel you have a reason to live anymore, that's an opportunity to find a new one, right?" You offer. Brushing your hair behind your ear, your vision drifts from his face toward the wall before you both. "And don't get me wrong. I understand. I do, really... I'd be lying if I said that I felt I had any sort of reason right now, but... I also think there's a certain cynicism in giving up hope. Maybe it's my naivety... my lack of experience in life comparingly... but I believe there's hope for everyone."

He hums in contemplation, "Perhaps." It's the only answer you receive, his eyes still lingering on your face for a moment before he, too, finds his own spot on the wall across from the bed. Neither of you move, still stuck in quiet consideration.

Held safe within his warm arms, there's a relaxation that finds you in the blue. You hadn't anticipated the night going this way, and yet... you wouldn't change it for anything. The answer was unexpected, but you can't deny that you'd gotten an answer. Heart thumping steadily in your chest, you finally take in a deep breath before leaning back just enough to peer up at him from underneath your thick lashes. "Thank you, Zemo," you whisper. There's no reason to be loud, not when the night is so quiet, so still, and there's only so much room between you.

"Helmut," he offers, a slight nod of his head downward in your direction, a squeeze of your hand in reassurance.

"Thank you, Helmut," you repeat, teasing slightly as you use the name he'd offered. An amused smile graces your lips and his grip on you loosens, glad to see you're no longer feeling beaten down. Unbeknownst to the both of you, while his grip has loosened, the distance between you is increasingly closing. In a matter of seconds, you can't help but jump off the ledge you'd been teetering off all night long- diving into the ocean that is Helmut.

Pressing your lips to his gently, the shocked gasp that resonates through his closed mouth easily turns into a hum as he returns the kiss, then draws out into a growl as his hand roughly finds your cheek, gripping it tightly with a desperate need. A whimper involuntarily leaves your throat as this happens, unsure what you've unearthed. Slowly forcing himself to pull away, his forehead rests against yours as you both breathe deeply, in need of the oxygen that streams into your lungs and filters through your blood. "Why?"

It's a question you hadn't anticipated receiving from him. An answer that you weren't prepared to give. Even if you both knew of the inklings and sparks that'd been building and dancing around you all night. "Because you were right," an airy laugh echoes in the space between you, "earlier. I did want something else, even if I wanted this, too." A smile stretches upon your lips, and the contagion spreads, Helmut mirroring it as an amused smile of his own tugs at the corners of his lips. The moment is short; a brushing of your noses against one another as you breathe in the same light-hearted air. Each of you tempting the other to be the first to lean in and capture a kiss from the other. Some unspoken instinctual game, perhaps.

Lips darting in for another peck, you're not surprised when his hand moves from cupping your cheek to rounding your head in search of a hold, a grasp of some sort. His hand winds into your hair, fingers gripping it tenderly. Pulling you in with his lips, he draws back, making you careen after him in search of his lips. Yet the instant he lies back, hands moving mindlessly down to your hips to help you straddle him and stay steady, the spark is interrupted. Helmut lies on the bed, a look crossing his face that leaves you knowing.

How can one read a stranger like they're a book they'd left open on a coffee table, passed by dozens of times? The heat where your clothed sex meet his undeniable erection. a spark sated in nips and kisses you'd been teasing each other with all night, yet there's something unsaid. "We don't have to," you voice it. "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to." The hand that's not secured on his chest and holding you up runs down the front of his robe, the thick and cozy material running beneath your fingertips.

"I want to..." his voice trails off, "I just..."

"Don't want to offend her. I understand," you answer for him. Lips pursing into a thin line, the upward tilt of the inner corners of your eyebrows betray that semblance, showing your empathy. Even if to him it might appear as some sort of pity. "Though... if I may?" You inquire.

"You may," he encourages, curious to hear your thoughts. Warm splayed hands lie on your thinly robed hips keeping you steady and preventing you from grinding down on him and teasing further, even if you aren't presently doing so. A precaution, nonetheless.

"I know I didn't know her, and I've only heard a little, but... if there's anything I can say, I'd think she'd want you to be happy." The sentiment lingers in the air, and you offer him a saddened smile, quickly intent on clarifying. "And I'm not saying that to get you to sleep with me, I just... I think you should know. If anyone hasn't said it, I think any wife that truly loves her husband would eventually want him to find happiness again. However, it may be."

Silence settles in the air for a moment, and his lack of response elicits a spike of anxiety as you continue to voice your thoughts. "I know it probably doesn't mean anything coming from me, a stranger, but I still do believe in what I said," you chuckle, "and that includes people some may otherwise consider criminal, but... I believe there's hope for you. To find another reason."

"Verdammte Hölle," he curses. One of the hands on your hip squeezes for a moment. "I know," he acknowledges, "I just..."

"Haven't since?" You question, noticing the slight pinch of his brows. It's a guess, a posture in relation to the circumstance you both come from.

"Exactly," he affirms. Searching your eyes, you leave him no room for doubt as you lean down so you're chest to chest.

"Then we'll take it slow. If that's what you want," you reassure him, eyes searching his for some sort of clue into his thoughts.

"Yes, just bear with me, Schatz. It's been a while for me," He reveals, a hint of red tinging his cheeks. Whether it be from blush, embarrassment, or lust, you can only think of how handsome it makes him look in the golden light pouring from the bedside lamp.

"Me too, don't worry," you reassure. Hands resettling themselves on his chest, you both lean in, lips easily finding their way back to one another.

~~~~~~~~

translations:

Schatz = treasure, sweetheart, darling

Schön = lovely, beautiful, nice

Verdammte Hölle = fucking hell.

Meine Süße = my darling, sweet, dear, honey

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