#Alpha!Helmut Zemo

[ace-marvel]

Bereavement

Alpha!Helmut Zemo x Omega!Reader

Synopsis: Your daughter's question at bed time stirs you to think of how you came to be with Zemo

Word Count: 11.8K

(A/N: I saw a Zemo edit on TikTok and then this came out of my brain. I am a Bucky girl through and through but god fucking damn, emotionally manipulative men are my weakness.)

Your daughter’s laughter makes you smile as you follow her into the decorated room, pink walls decorated with sparkling stars and rainbows. She’s in her pyjamas, already crawling under her covers when you sit beside her on the bed.

Gently, your hands tuck in the blanket around her chin and move the teddy bear closer to her. She wraps her small arms around the massive thing, smiling up at you.

“Mommy,” She yawns slightly as you stroke her cheek, “How did you and Otecko meet?”

You can’t help but smile at her little accent. Innocent eyes stare up at you, full of wonder and amazement as you softly begin to run your fingers through your hair.

A soft laugh leaves your lips as you remember how you met your husband and alpha.

It had started with a phone call.

You didn’t even know that Sam Wilson still had your phone number until he called. He was lucky to have caught you in one of the rare moments you weren’t knees deep in a mission, tracking down whatever target you were after.

“What?” You answered bluntly as you held the phone to your ear.

“Is that how you talk to the guy who kept you out of prison?” Sam’s voice called through the speaker and you rolled your eyes.

“I would have broken out of whatever hole they stuck me in,” You stated simply, leaning against the wall of the shitty, run down hotel you were staying in.

Sam chuckled, “You probably would have,”

“What do you want, Sam?”

There’s a moment of silence followed by a sigh. You can hear the frustration through the phone before he’s even said anything, meaning this is something serious. Serious enough for him to call you, of all people.

“I need your help,” Sam explained, “Bucky decided to help a psychopath break out of prison,”

“What did you expect from the man who was The Winter Soldier?” You spoke sharply.

“Well,” Sam huffed, “We kinda need this psychopath,”

You pursed your lips, “And I come in, how?”

“I figured I’d fight fire with fire,” Sam stated, voice firm, “I need you to keep an eye on him with us,”

That was how you ended up in a safe house, facing off with Baron Zemo. The moment you arrived, both Bucky and Sam were having their usual bickering session, which made you roll your eyes as you stared at the man.

“You called her in?!”

“If anyone is going to control Zemo, it’s her!”

“She tried to kill Steve!”

“So did you!”

You had heard of Baron Zemo but this was the first time you were meeting him in person. He smelt like something expensive but also tainted. Your expertise lay in scent tracking, something that not a lot of people had these days.

It made you dangerous against alphas.

Zemo’s scent is rich, refined and you find yourself subtly intoxicated by it. It’s a mix of spiced cedarwood, worn leather and dark amber with a faint trace of bergamot and smoky vanilla.

It’s a scent that lingers but doesn’t command attention- because his presence does that effortlessly.

"You reek of grief,” Zemo finally said, his voice smooth yet laced with something unreadable.

Sam and Bucky are pulled out of their bickering when you pull a gun, shooting it at Zemo. Bucky flinched while Sam yelled, Zemo standing there with a smirk on his lips.

The bullet hadn’t hit him but was instead was embedded into the wall next to his head.

“Takes one to know one,” You bit back.

At that, his eyes turn sharp and assessing before it flickered away. You could smell it in his scent, the way it spiked to something more smoky before it fainted away.

“Ah, a kindred spirit then,” He chuckled, “You missed,”

You didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger again, a loud ‘ping’ and metal scrapping against metal filled the room. Zemo turned his head, finding the bullet in the exact same spot as the first one.

His scent flared again, this time an air of impressiveness and attraction? It caught you off guard for a split second.

“I don’t miss,”

“Can we put the gun away?” Sam asked loudly, he stepped in front of you making you put the weapon back on your hip, “Thank you,”

“You really think we can trust her?” Bucky had spoken up, clearly annoyed with the whole situation.

You scoffed, eyes rolling as you took a seat on the couch. But it didn’t mean your guard was down.

“Right,” Sam spoke, “We are going out, you..,”

Sam looked at you as you looked back at him.

“Play nice,”

When Sam and Bucky left, that’s when the connection came to life.

Zemo had analyzed you, like you had done with him. He noticed the way you sat, your scent so well hidden, your heartbeat steady and how you positioned yourself out of arms reach of anyone.

“Sam trusts you to keep an eye on me?” Zemo asked, arching an eyebrow, “How.. bold of him.”

You scoffed, “He trusts me to put you down if you step out of line,”

Zemo had chuckled, low and dry, “Oh. I like you already,”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t deny the way his scent curled around you- something dark, expensive, and laced with grief so similar to your own. It was maddening, the way your omega instincts stirred at the presence of this alpha.

He turned his head slightly, watching you with an interest that was piqued and unwavering.

“How long do you intend to sit there?” Zemo questioned, a slight amusement in his tone.

“Long enough to know if I have to kill you,” you replied, voice sharp but almost teasing.

He hummed softly, a sound of intrigue. “Do you find it difficult? Being surrounded by alphas?”

You laughed, bitterly. “No more than they find it being around me.”

His gaze lingered on you, searching. “Did you know there was a time when alphas like us ruled with fear?”

You tilted your head, meeting his eyes squarely. “Is that what this is? You trying to scare me?”

“No.” Zemo smiled faintly. “It’s quite the opposite.”

His honesty was disarming. You fell silent, wrestling internally with instincts that were screaming at you to close the distance between yourself and him. Zemo sat on the opposite couch, his scent closer, more distinguished as he spoke.

“An alpha is only strong with an omega,” He spoke proudly, “And an omega is only protected with an alpha, Contrary to popular belief, the two need each other in order to survive, keeps the instincts from consuming the mind,”

“I survive just fine,” You spat.

Zemo leaned forward slightly, tilting his head, “Tell me, Omega..do you ever wake up expecting to find them beside you, only to be met with cold sheets and an emptiness that never quite fades?”

The words sent a sharp pang through your chest. You swallowed, looking away but he didn’t need you to talk to answer him.

“Then perhaps you understand me better than most,” Zemo hummed, his gaze unreadable.

You hated this. The way he made you feel unnerved, because he was someone that understood you. Because mates died with each other, bond mates didn’t survive if the other wasn’t living.

Your gaze wandered to the dark, jagged scar etched across the side of his neck. The mark, with its uneven edges and slightly raised texture was black, representing that the person who put it there was no longer living.

It reflected your own.

The cat and mouse game continued for the rest of your time in Latvia, surrounded by the rich scent that was Baron Zemo. You were used to scents, you had smelt a lot of alphas in your time, tracked them down, killed them.

But nothing affected you like his did.

His scent put you on edge, they way it made you calm down when the battles were tough and you were faced with a strong opponent. The flag smashers weren’t anything you couldn’t deal with, but your omega instincts still lingered in the back of your mind despite anything you did.

Yet Zemo’s scent, the strong cedarwood and worn leather wrapped around a part of yourself you didn’t believe exist anymore.

It all came crashing down when you met Zemo in front of the Sokovia Tribute.

This was the mission, you reminded yourself. You were to ensure Zemo be handed over to the authorities or put him down with a bullet. Soon, the Dora Milaje would come, with Bucky, and they would drag him to whatever cage awaited him.

And you? You’d continue on, like you always did, finding another mission, finding another person to hunt down and turn over or kill.

Zemo stood in front of the statue, his hands clasped behind his back in that way of his- controlled, unreadable. He always held himself like he was two steps ahead of everyone, like he had already anticipated what was coming next. But he turned towards you, with something in his gaze.

Something like uncertainty.

“This is the end, then,” He murmured.

It should have been. You should have walked away, said something sharp, something final. But you didn’t.

For once, you didn’t stand out of arms reach. Zemo’s scent was making your guards fall and you couldn’t control it. Because his instincts called to your own, whether you controlled it or not. The strange pull- the one you had been ignoring the entire mission - it remained.

It was unnatural. It was wrong. Your instincts had died when your mate did and so did his. You both had bonds once cherished, now severed, leaving you both hollow, broken things.

“Why do you look at me like that?” Zemo’s voice was soft, for once, the cunning tone gone.

“Like what?”

“Like you feel it too?”

You exhaled sharply. “There’s nothing to feel.”

A slow, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Lying doesn’t suit you, Omega,”

You should have left. Should have walked away, turned your back and ignored everything that was coming to life in that moment. Because it felt like a charged, crackling wire.

Zemo took a step forward, closing the space between you both. He wasn’t touching you, not yet, but his presence was overwhelming. And then- so softly it was barely a whisper - he asked.

“Would you let me kiss you?”

You didn’t answer. Not with words.

Your hands could his collar, fisting the fabric, pulling him down just as you rose to your toes and then-

Your lips met.

The moment they did, it felt peaceful and the electricity you felt had suddenly calmed, thrumming between you both. Something dormat had awoken in that moment. Overwhelming. Suffocating. Real.

You pulled away first, breathless. For the first time you met him, Zemo looked genuinely stunned. His pupils were blown wide, his scent thick with something bordering on disbelief.

“..Well.” His voice was hoarse, “That was unexpected,”

You swallowed hard and took a step back, regaining your composure. This wasn’t allowed, the moment should not have happened in your mind.

“You are the first person I have kissed since my omega died..,” He confessed.

The lump in your throat was swallowed down, a lie leaving your lips, “It’s just our instincts reacting to each other, you haven’t been near an omega since that moment and I just did you a favor since you asked so nicely,”

Zemo exhaled, his hand lifted to try and touch you. But at the sound of footsteps, his fingers curled shit into a fist and he took a step back.

Bucky and the Dora Milaje had arrived. Which meant your mission and your time with Zemo was done.

“It seems I must thank you for such a kind farewell, then.” The cunning had returned to his voice, along with an edge of something else. Something that almost sounded like regret.

Ayo gestured sharply at Zemo, and the Dora Milaje surrounded him, efficient and determined. Your gaze followed as they led him away, every step taking that intoxicating scent further from you.

You should have felt relief. You should have been glad it was over. But instead, there was an ache that gnawed at the edges of your mind, a hollowness that hadn’t been there since your own mate had died.

Bucky’s voice pulled you back.

“You alright?” he asked, watching you carefully.

You snapped back to that emotionless person you always had to be and nodded. “It’s done,” you said flatly.

He studied you for a moment longer, like he didn’t quite believe you but wasn’t going to push it. “We’ll be stateside by morning,”

“You’ll be stateside,” You spoke firmly, adjusting your weapons, “Just tell Sam to wire me the rest of the money,”

With that, you walked off.

Two years passed, of you throwing yourself into work. You hunted down men, alphas, enhanced individuals or anyone that had been involved in Hydra. You were finishing up a mission in Italy when Sam called you, your ringtone of ‘Dynamite’ by BTS blaring in the air as you held a gun to a man’s head.

The call came through, and you ignored it at first. The guy tied to the chair had whimpered, begged and pleaded as you held the barrel of the gun to his temple.

“Tell me who you were selling them to,” You snarled.

He whimpered and pleaded again, you were about to punch him when the ringtone cut through the air again, vibrating annoyingly in your pocket. You shot the man in the shoulder, just enough to make him think twice before running.

“Can I help you?” You snapped into the phone.

“Two years, no goodbye and this is the hello I get?” Sam joked through the phone, “Harsh,”

“I’m working,” You hissed.

“And I got work for you,”

Before you could respond, the man in the chair whimpered again before yelling out. In a second, you pointed the gun at his head and pulled the trigger.

“Did you just shot someone?”

“He was a human trafficker, he sold young omegas and I mean, young,”

Sam replied after a pause. “Listen, we need you in New York. I’ll pay you double,”

“Triple or I’m not interested,” You said shortly.

“I’ll wire it tonight,” Sam sighed. “But this is a big one, alright?”

You rolled your eyes. It was always a big one when it came to Sam. But if it didn’t include fighting aliens then you didn’t class it as a big one.

“I’ll be there soon,”

New York wasn’t your favourite place to be. Too many people, too many arrogant alphas who thought they ruled the streets.

Avengers tower stood tall, as it always did, like beacon and warning all in one. You just slumped against the elevator as it rode up the floors, looking as the numbers lit up. It reminded you of the happier days, when you’d joke around with your fellow agents on the way back from your missions.

The floor you stopped on wasn’t marked on the elevator, the doors slowly opening before you stepped out. It was the hidden floor of the tower, only the heroes and yourself knew about it. The Avengers darker side, their team of mismatched anti-heroes for the more cruel missions.

The Thunderbolts.

Sam was waiting.

“This is what your paying me for?” You asked.

“I’m not actually the one paying you,” Sam stated, “I just got you here,”

You narrowed your eyes at the Falcon as he lead you into a well lit briefing room. The moment you stepped into the room, you smelt him. The same sharp, undeniable awareness that haunted you since Latvia.

You had spent those two years forgetting about. Burying the way your body had reacted to Zemo, how your instincts, long thought dead, had stirred the moment his lips touched yours. You had spent the time convincing yourself it was nothing but a mistake, a fleeting consequence of fried and circumstance.

But the second you saw him again, standing at the head of the table, dressed in all black with his signature coat draped over his shoulders, your body ignited.

Zemo looked just as he had back then- poised, unreadable, a ghost of amusement dancing in his eyes. But this time, there was something different. This time, he had expected you.

“Ah,” Zemo mused, head tilted as his gaze raked over you, “So they finally convinced you,”

“They didn’t convince me, they paid me,”

He chuckled, slow and rick. “Of course,”

You had known what they were getting Zemo to do. He was the perfect person to lead the darker extension of what heroes liked to pretend didn’t exist. It was a condition of his release from the raft.

You folded your arms, ignoring the way his scent, spiced cedarwood and worn leather, wrapped around your nose, “So, what? Can’t get any of your little team of misfits to do something?”

“I like to think of myself as a fair boss,” Zemo chuckled and you ignored the way it made your body shiver, “Yelena and her father have gone on little family vacation, the others are on their own missions elsewhere,”

“And The Winter Soldier?” You quipped.

Sam answered your question, “He’s expecting a pup any day now,”

Your brow raised, “A pup?”

“Yeah,” Sam grinned. “Fatherhood’s mellowed him out. It’s weird.”

The idea of Bucky as a doting parent was something you couldn’t quite picture, but it wasn’t relevant now. Not with Zemo looking at you the way he was, like he could see past every wall you built, every lie you told yourself in the last two years.

“What is this job?”

Zemo gestured towards the table, scattered with maps and intel. He spoke, his voice low and smooth.

“It requires finesse,” he said, moving closer than he needed to, spreading his scent further; it was intoxicating and infuriating how much it affected you.

“They usually do when you’re involved,” You stated flatly.

He smirked, a slight tilt of his head acknowledging your point. “A group of radicals in Symkaria have uncovered some Hydra technology,” Zemo explained. “They’ve been capturing and experimenting on omegas,”

Your scent soured, followed by you picking up the file and briefly flicking through it. Maybe this was a big one, you had been tracking down omega traffickers for the last six months, this could be what they had all been selling to.

“I see you are interested,” Zemo said, watching you carefully.

“Don’t push it,” You answered.

“Then you’ll work the job?” Sam asked, a hopeful edge to his voice.

You shrugged, but your resolve was already slipping. “I’ll work it,”

Zemo’s eyes lingered on you, satisfied. He leaned against the table, his expression thoughtful. “We leave tomorrow,” he said, “After we gather some additional resources.”

You nodded once and turned to leave before either of them saw how affected you were. Before they could see the conflict tugging at your emotions.

But Zemo called after you. “Oh, and one more thing,”

You paused, dread mixing with the adrenaline in your veins as you glanced back.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said simply, that ghost of amusement ever-present in his eyes.

You didn’t have a response for that, as a new scent invaded your senses. It was a scent of roses mixed with rain, with the very lingering scent of crisp linen on top of it. It was coming behind you, making you quickly pull the gun from your side and pointed it at the person who had just walked in.

The omega at the door screamed, dropped the papers in their hands before letting out a string of curse words in Spanish. You raised an eyebrow, staring at the young omega. She looked oddly familiar.

“Can we not point guns at Jordi?!” Sam shouted out, grabbing the weapon in your hand, “She’s the Thunderbolts doctor and weapons expert,”

Jordi.

You knew her.

“Holy Shit,” Despite a gun being pointed in her direction a moment ago, a smile cracked onto her features, “It’s you! You worked with my dad!”

“I also put your father in jail,”

Jordi waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, well, he wasn’t a great guy,”

You lowered your gun, feeling the weight of memories pressing in. Jordi had been barely ten when you last her, a tiny kid genuis who rushed around her father’s lab, a blur of energy and wild ideas.

Zemo’s voice cut through the moment. “She’s quite indispensable,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Don’t be too mean to her,” Sam said with a sigh, “She’s going to be working closely with you and Zemo on this one.”

You put the gun back into its holster before turning away from them all. “I’m going to regret this,”

“Probably,” Jordi replied with a shrug, “But it means I get to see your work first hand,”

Your eyes flicked back to Zemo briefly. His expression was still amused, you hated how much he enjoyed this.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” You huffed, turning and marching out of the room.

You had to get away from Zemo.

—

But your problems didn’t stop there.

Because twelve hours later, you were stuck on a private jet with no-one other than Helmut Zemo.

He sat across from you, completely calm as the plane cut through the sky. Your foot tapped nervously, even though you tried to appear just as composed.

“Care for something to drink?” he asked, already pouring champagne into a glass, the bubbles rising in a delicate swirl.

“No.”

Zemo laughed softly. “Still so serious,” he said, handing you the glass anyway.

You took it because refusing felt like a win for him, and you couldn’t allow that. “Where’s your little protégé?”

“Jordi will be helping us remotely,” he replied. “She’s not someone who goes into the field. Not to say she can’t defend herself.”

There was a lure to his words, an invitation for you to ask more questions, but you didn’t take it. You stared out the window instead, watching clouds blur past, clinging to this small piece of distance between you.

Zemo leaned back, his eyes never leaving your face. “You always did prefer working alone,”

“The last time I worked with a team, half of them turned out to be undercover hydra agents,” You slumped in your seat further, eyes locked onto the champange glass.

“Ah, SHIELD’s kill squad for enhanced individuals,”

You didn’t look at him, but you didn’t correct him, either.

“They were very brutal,” Zemo continued, “I was almost impressed.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “You would be.”

“And your mate had been one of them,”

You slammed the glass onto the stupid little table beside the the chair, eyes narrowed as you glared at Zemo.

“He was not a hydra agent,”

“I didn’t say he was,”

The hint of a smile on Zemo’s lips told you he knew exactly what he was doing. He always did. You forced yourself to look away, clenching your hands to stop the tremor that had started.

“What is this, Zemo?” you snapped. “A reunion tour? I’m not interested in reliving the greatest hits.”

His expression softened, an uncharacteristic moment of sincerity breaking through. “We have more in common than you admit,” Zemo said, his voice low and knowing.

You hated that he might be right.

You felt his eyes on you, reading every twitch of muscle, every flicker of emotion, and it left you feeling raw and exposed. You needed to focus elsewhere before he dug any deeper.

“Tell me more about these traffickers,” you demanded, steering the subject back to the job. “What do we know about them?”

Zemo paused for a moment, as if deciding whether to let you change the topic so easily. But he allowed it, going on about the targets you would hunting down and the intel they had received. Keeping it professional helped you stay focused on something other than his scent, which was swarming around you.

—-

You had grown used to being in the guts of countries, deep in holes that no one ever climbed out of. Symkaria was a breeding ground of filth, lies and crime. The air in the country was sharp, carrying the scent of damp stone and distant gunpowder. At the center of all the corruption and crime, you knew something foul was festering.

The little base that you and Zemo infiltrated was run down, one of the Starks old weapon warehouses that no longer worked. But the men around the place, you had seen it all before. Alphas and betas who profited from selling omegas, taking their rights and erasing their autonomy. The worst part was half the time they were sold to rich, government officials who wanted a trophy.

You reminded yourself that’s why you were here, everytime Zemo’s rich scent invaded your senses.

It was the worst part of the operation.

You were surrounded by it—rich and dark, a scent of spiced cedarwood with hints of smoky vanilla and something warm. Something that made your instincts stir, a deep ache blooming in your chest.

You clenched your jaw, forcing the feeling down.

Zemo suddenly stopped, his hand coming up in a silent signal. You halted beside him, peering around the corner.

Two guards. Armed. Chatting casually in Symkarian.

Zemo glanced at you, amusement flickering in his sharp eyes. “Shall we?”

You rolled your shoulders, gripping your knife. “Try to keep up, Baron.”

You moved first—swift, silent. Your knife slid through the first man’s throat before he even registered the attack. Blood spurted as you twisted the blade free. The second man had just enough time to reach for his gun before Zemo was there, snapping his neck in a clean, practiced motion.

The bodies hit the ground almost at the same time.

Zemo exhaled, shaking out his wrist. “Efficient as ever.”

You wiped your blade against your pants. “Don’t sound so impressed.”

“On the contrary,” he murmured, stepping closer—too close. His voice dropped lower, smoother. “I have always found competence… very attractive.”

Heat prickled up your spine.

You forced yourself to scoff, turning away. “Keep your focus, Zemo.”

He chuckled, a sound that tangled around your resolve, but he didn’t press further.

You cleared the rest of the compound in record time, the two of you moving as if you’d never stopped. You hated how effortless it felt. How natural. By the time you reached what passed for an office, you were breathing hard but steady, adrenaline singing through your veins.

Zemo rifled through papers while you tapped at a decrepit computer terminal.

“Can she get anything off this?” You glared at the screen, skeptical.

“She’s quite resourceful,” Zemo replied, pulling out his phone. “Jordi, we’ve located a terminal.”

The line crackled, and then Jordi’s voice came through clear and bright. “Is it a hunk of junk? I bet it’s a hunk of junk. Don’t worry—just plug in and give me three minutes.”

You connected her to the system and backed away, feeling restless as you watched the computer screen. They weren’t keeping the omegas here but something in these files would point you in the right direction.

Zemo’s eyes were on you but you kept your focus on the computer, watching as Jordi hacked into the system. When a hand touched your cheek, you stepped back quickly, knife at the ready.

“Blood,” Zemo chuckled as he held up his gloved hand.

You hadn’t realized some of it had spattered across your face.

“Thanks,” you muttered, swiping at the spot with your sleeve.

Jordi’s voice crackled over the phone, “Uh, tiny problem,”

“What is it?” Zemo asked, oddly gentle in his approach to Jordi.

“They’ve got some hard encryptions on this stuff, it’s going to take me a while to get through it,” She explained, “Think you two can lay low for the night until I hack it?”

“Do we have a choice?” You asked sharply, not happy with the delay.

“Not if you want locations,” Jordi replied. “And I know you do.”

You shot Zemo a glare. If there was anyone you hated dealing with more than him, it was his smart-mouth hacker. “Fine.”

“We appreciate your skill,” Zemo said smoothly.

“Just watch your backs out there, alright? And tell her I expect a thank-you gif when this is all done.”

The line cut out before you could respond.

Zemo set the phone down and moved closer. “I have a penthouse nearby,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “We can stay there and wait for Jordi to make progress.”

You didn’t argue, though every step out of the warehouse felt like another surrender. You told yourself it was only temporary. Just until you had enough intel to move on.

The drive to the penthouse was mercifully short.

The apartment was luxurious in the way only old money could afford—high ceilings, dark wooden floors, and a fireplace crackling softly in the corner. Heavy velvet drapes were drawn over the windows, shutting out the noise of Symkaria’s restless streets.

Zemo poured himself a glass of whiskey from the bar in the corner, his movements slow, unhurried. You, on the other hand, were tense as hell.

The mission was on hold for now. The encrypted files you’d stolen from the trafficking ring’s server were being decoded, but it would take time—too much time. You hated waiting. It made your instincts restless, clawing at the edges of your control.

And then there was the bed.

Just one.

You had noticed it the moment Zemo led you inside. The massive four-poster bed took up the center of the room, draped in dark sheets that looked entirely too inviting. There was no couch. No spare mattress.

You weren’t an idiot. You knew what this meant.

Zemo took a slow sip of whiskey, watching you over the rim of his glass. His scent was there—rich, dark, unmistakable. You had been trained to be in tune to an alphas scent, which was now making your life harder than it needed to be. The warmth of leather, smokey vanilla, and something spiced curled around you, burrowing under your skin.

Your instincts shifted uneasily, confused. You weren’t supposed to react like this. Not anymore. Your mate had died. So had his.

But this bond— whatever the hell it was—refused to stay dead.

“You’re unusually quiet,” Zemo mused, setting his glass down. His sharp eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “Is something troubling you?”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall. “There’s only one bed.”

Zemo smiled. “Ah. Yes, I suppose there is.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You planned this.”

His lips twitched. “I would never be so manipulative.”

“You would and you are,” you shot back.

Zemo let out a low chuckle and stepped closer. Too close. The air between you grew thick, charged. His presence was warm, his scent brushing against your skin like a whisper of something forbidden.

Your body betrayed you—muscles tensing, breath hitching. Your omega instincts stirred, restless and confused. You weren’t supposed to want. Not after everything.

But Zemo wasn’t backing away.

“If it truly bothers you,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk, “I will take the floor.”

You exhaled sharply, trying to steady yourself. “Good.”

He tilted his head, studying you like he could see through every wall you had put up.“Would you prefer that?”

The question shouldn’t have made your pulse spike. But it did.

Zemo had always been dangerous. But this? This was something else entirely.

You swallowed hard, turning away before he could see the answer in your face.

“I’ll take the bed,” you muttered, heading for the bathroom. “And lock the damn door behind you.”

Zemo only chuckled, and the sound followed you long after you shut the door.

You stayed under the hot spray of the shower for longer than you should have, skin flushed and raw. The water washed away grime and blood, but not the heat curling beneath your ribs. This was insane. A mistake. You shouldn’t be here, with him, and he shouldn’t have this much of an effect on you.

Not anymore.

You turned off the water, hissing as cool air touched your skin. You dried off quickly and pulled on a spare shirt from your bag. It hung loose over your frame, claiming too much space, too much air. You shouldered the bathroom door open, half-expecting to find Zemo already in bed, smirking at your discomfort.

The room was empty.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He had actually listened for once. Maybe he had taken pity on you—or maybe it was all part of his game.

The thought settled heavily in your chest as you climbed onto the bed. The sheets were softer than anything you had ever slept on, no doubt a reflection of Zemo’s wealth. Thankfully, the sheets didn’t smell like him, instead they smelt clean.

Sleep comes easier than you thought it would.

The pain started as a dull ache in your lower stomach, a vague discomfort that you tried to ignore. But as the night wore on, it grew sharper, twisting through your insides like a knife. A cold sweat clung to your skin, and your limbs felt heavy, wrong.

You curled on your side, clutching your stomach. Not now. Not here.

The suppressants always worked. You took them religiously, never missing a dose. But sometimes your body fought back, for brief periods of time.

You bit down a groan, forcing yourself to breathe through the pain. You just had to ride it out.

A sharp knock at the door made you tense.

“Liebling?” Zemo’s voice was smooth, but there was something careful in his tone. Too careful. “I heard you moving.”

Shit. Had you made a noise?

“I’m fine,” you gritted out. “Go back to sleep.”

Silence. Then—

The door opened.

You should have locked it.

Zemo stepped inside, his silhouette dark against the dim glow of the city lights seeping through the curtains. He was barefoot, his dress shirt unbuttoned at the throat. His scent hit you like a physical force—leather, whiskey, warmth. It curled around your senses, sending a ripple of something dangerous through your veins.

His gaze landed on you—curled in on yourself, trembling—and something shifted in his expression.

“Schatz,” he murmured, softer now. “What’s wrong?”

You clenched your jaw, willing your body to stop shaking. “Nothing.”

He exhaled, stepping closer.

You tried to sit up, but the motion sent a fresh wave of pain rolling through you. A strangled sound tore from your throat before you could swallow it down.

Zemo was at your side in an instant.

“Don’t—” You started, but his hand was already pressing against your forehead. His touch was warm, firm.

Grounding.

His eyes narrowed. “You’re burning up.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Zemo ignored you, his gaze flickering over you with calculated precision. Assessing.

“This isn’t a fever.” His lips pressed together, thoughts clicking into place. “You’re suppressing something, aren’t you?”

You stilled.

His eyes darkened. “Your heat.”

A rush of humiliation burned through you.

You shoved his hand away, forcing yourself to sit up. “Don’t,” you snapped.

Zemo didn’t move back. He just watched you, gaze unreadable.

“I take suppressants,” you admitted, voice tight. “Medically. Regularly. I don’t have heats.”

His brow furrowed. “Clearly, that is not entirely true.”

You swallowed, looking away. “Sometimes this happens, it’s a s-side affect. I just have to wait for it to go away.”

Zemo was silent for a long moment. Then—

“How long?”

You hesitated.

“How long have you been suppressing it?”

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. “Since my mate died.”

The words settled between you, heavy with something unspoken.

Zemo’s jaw tightened, and his gaze flickered—just for a second—with something you couldn’t name.

Then he let out a breath, his posture shifting. Less rigid. Less guarded.

“Suppressing it for this long—it isn’t natural.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “Neither is living after your mate dies.”

His expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes. A shadow. Understanding.

He reached out then, slow enough that you could stop him if you wanted to. When you didn’t, his hand pressed lightly against your wrist.

His touch was warm. Steady. Unwavering.

“I won’t insult you by pretending I know what’s best for you,” he said, voice low. “But if you continue like this, it will only get worse.”

You swallowed, but you didn’t pull away.

Your body still ached, muscles tight and unyielding. But the pressure inside you— the gnawing, twisting pain—seemed to ease just slightly with his presence.

That was dangerous.

You met his gaze. “This doesn’t change anything.”

His lips curled—not quite a smirk, not quite a smile.

“Of course not.”

Neither of you moved.

You should have pulled away. You should have told him to leave.

But you didn’t.

And Zemo didn’t push.

Slowly, hesitantly, you leaned against his body.

His scent washed over you, and the pain ebbed to a dull thrum.

You could feel him breathe, each rise and fall of his chest against yours matched with your own. Your instincts unfurled, craving more—more warmth, more touch, more of the connection he offered without words.

He was quiet for a long time, as if he knew speaking would break whatever fragile truce lay between you. His hand rested on your back, light and reassuring. Unthreatening.

“Stubborn,” he murmured, almost affectionately.

You didn’t reply. Couldn’t. The fight was bleeding out of you, leaving behind something raw and vulnerable.

He let you rest against him, quiet and patient. You wanted to hate him for it.

Instead, you found yourself focusing on his heartbeat—a steady rhythm beneath the chaos of your own pulse. It was too comforting.

Your eyes stung, an unexpected surge of emotion pushing against the walls you had built so carefully. You had forgotten what this felt like—this terrifying vulnerability, this precarious comfort.

You closed your eyes against it all, exhaustion crashing over you like a wave.

“Sleep,” Zemo murmured.

As the pain ebbs away, you fall into a light sleep.

His scent lingered in the air like a promise. You drifted in and out, half-aware of Zemo’s warmth beside you. Each time you surfaced, he was there—silent, present. It should have scared you how easily your body accepted it, how naturally you surrendered to the calm he offered.

When you woke, morning light seeped through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold. Zemo was gone. The space where he had been was cool to the touch, but his scent still curled around you, too familiar now.

The ache in your stomach had dulled to a distant memory, and the tension in your muscles had eased completely. You sat up slowly, waiting for pain that didn’t come. It left you feeling hollow and relieved all at once.

You rubbed a hand over your face. This couldn’t happen again. You wouldn’t let it.

A tray sat on the nightstand: coffee steaming, toast perfectly golden but you choose to ignore it.

You stumbled out of the bedroom, body aching in your joints as you walk into the living area. Zemo is sat at the table, sipping his coffee and looking out the window as if he’s on a holiday, not a dangerous mission.

“You should rest more,” He stated, almost like he was demanding it.

“I’m fine,” You huffed you.

“At least eat something,” He gestured to his own plate, “Toast? Yogurt, perhaps?”

“I don’t really eat much,”

He looked displeased at this statement but doesn’t touch on it. You’re already pulling your weapons back into their designated places on your body, trying to ignore what had transpired last night.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

He looked up, an eyebrow arching. “For what?”

“For staying.”

Zemo set his coffee down, regarding you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. “I told you before—a think of myself as a fair boss.”

You tensed, fingers fumbling over the buckle of your holster. The reminder was uncomfortable, a truth you weren’t ready to face.

“It’s not mutually beneficial if one of us is incapacitated,” Zemo continued, and there was a faint edge of amusement in his tone.

You bit back a retort. He was giving you an out, an easy way to sidestep the vulnerability you’d shown. You took it gratefully.

“Yeah, well.” You strapped on your last piece of gear. “You shouldn’t get used to it.”

His lips twitched. “Noted.”

Suddenly, his phone beeps and you look over. Zemo simply placed the device on the table before answering it.

“What’s cookin’, boss?” Jordi’s voice comes calling through the phone, “Sleep well?”

“You could say that,” Zemo smirked, “What do you have for us?”

Jordi goes on a ramble about the decryption, she’s talking fast and stumbling over a few words that makes you think she’s been up all night and pumped full of coffee. She explained that she managed to crack it and was sending the information to Zemo now.

“Good work, Jordi,” Zemo smiled, “Now, I have a medical question, if you don’t mind asking,”

“Uh,” Jordi sounded a little caught of guard, “Sure?”

“What would happen if someone was to suppress their heat for say..,” Zemo pursed his lips, shaking his head slightly before talking, “Almost ten years?”

There was silence on the other end. You held your breath.

“Yikes,” Jordi said finally, and you could practically see her wincing. “That’s… not great. They’d get really sick. Probably have breakthrough heats. It could kill them, honestly.”

You stiffened, your jaw clenching.

“Hm,” Zemo replied, and his eyes flicked to you, watching for your reaction.

“Someone in that situation really needs to be careful, y’know? Like super cautious,” Jordi continued, oblivious to the tension in the room. “And they should definitely stop suppressing.”

Zemo hummed again, “Thank you for your help, Jordi,”

The call disconnected.

The silence that followed was punctuated only by the distant hum of traffic outside.

“You needn’t look so smug,” you muttered.

“Smug?” He feigned innocence. “I am merely... informed.”

You glared at him but couldn’t hold it—your gaze dropped to your own phone. Jordi had also sent the information to your device, although you didn’t question how she managed to get your number.

From what you gathered, the headquarters of this operation was in Latvia.

Great. Fucking Latvia.

“Well,” Zemo chuckled, the amusement obvious in his tone, “Back to Latvia,”

—-

Latvia smelled the same.

The damp cobblestone streets, the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, the sharp bite of vodka spilled outside bars—it all hit you the moment you stepped off the plane. Unchanged. But you weren’t the same person who had left this place years ago.

And neither was Zemo.

He stood beside you, adjusting his leather gloves, his gaze cool and unreadable. He blended in with the crowd, dressed in a tailored coat and scarf, effortlessly slipping into the role of a man meant to be here. Meant to be anywhere.

You, on the other hand, felt like your skin was too tight.

“Welcome back,” Zemo murmured, voice smooth with something dangerously amused. “Feeling nostalgic?”

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

The two of you moved through the airport with ease, just another pair of travelers in a sea of faces. Your mission was simple—infiltrate the omega trafficking ring that had relocated to Latvia, identify the key players, and dismantle the operation from the inside.

It should have been easy.

Except for the fact that Zemo was an Alpha. Any other time, you would have posed as an omega sold, taken down the guards and released the omegas while taking down every piece of filth.

After the incident in Symkaria—after your body rebelled against the years of medical suppression— you weren’t sure where you were supposed to stand with Zemo. He was a powerful man with a powerful mind, both alluring and terrifying.

And yet, the moment you had to pretend—the moment Zemo pressed his palm against the small of your back as you passed through security, the warmth of his body bleeding into yours—it hit you like a live wire.

The bond inside you, the one you’d thought was gone, shook itself awake.

And the worst part?

It wasn’t just you.

You felt it in the way Zemo’s muscles tensed, the way his fingers flexed before pulling away. The way his scent—usually controlled, carefully masked beneath expensive cologne—deepened just slightly.

Dark, spiced cedarwood, the vanilla notes stronger now.

You clenched your jaw, forcing your body to ignore it. To ignore him.

This wasn’t about you. It wasn’t about Zemo.

It was about the omegas trapped in this operation, the ones who didn’t have a choice.

The two of you left the airport without another word, slipping into the waiting car that had been arranged under one of Zemo’s many aliases.

As the city blurred past the window, Zemo finally spoke.

“We will need to be convincing,” he said lightly, his voice giving nothing away. “A lone alpha will raise suspicions. But an alpha with an omega?” He smiled, turning his head toward you. “That is expected.”

You exhaled sharply. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

Zemo chuckled. “Not at all, liebling. But it is curious, is it not?” His gaze flickered over you, sharp and assessing. “How your instincts react to me.”

Your fingers curled into a fist.

He knew. Of course, he knew.

But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“This is a mission,” you said coldly. “Nothing more.”

Zemo hummed, leaning back against the leather seat.

“Of course,” he murmured. “Nothing more.”

But the bond between you throbbed.

And you both knew it wasn’t that simple.

—-

The air inside the private auction house was thick with power—alphas. Dozens of them, their scents coiling through the dimly lit room like a noxious fog. It was overwhelming, even for someone like you, who had spent years dulling your omega instincts with suppressants and sheer willpower.

But nothing could prepare you for the way your instincts screamed when Zemo touched you.

His arm slid around your waist, pulling you against his side as you stepped further into the lavish, candlelit chamber. Every pair of predatory eyes in the room flickered toward you, assessing, judging.

Stay calm. Stay in control.

The omegas up for auction were displayed in open cages—dressed in silks, their eyes glazed from suppressants or conditioning. Some were defiant, their shackles rattling as they moved, while others were still, quiet, their faces carefully blank.

Your stomach twisted at the sight.

Zemo must have felt the way your body tensed because his grip on your waist tightened. “Careful, liebling,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your temple. “We cannot afford suspicion.”

You exhaled through your nose, pushing down the rising anger in your chest. You had to focus. Play your part.

Because you weren’t here to buy.

You were here to destroy this place from the inside out.

Zemo guided you toward the front of the room, where other alpha couples lounged on velvet seats, sipping aged whiskey and speaking in low, murmured tones.

The scent in the room was disgusting—possessive. Every alpha here was marking their territory, ensuring the other predators in the room knew exactly who belonged to whom.

Which meant…

You stiffened as Zemo leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“They expect submission,” he said smoothly. “You must let me hold you.”

You knew that. You had prepared for this.

And yet—

Your skin burned where his hand rested at your hip. Where his breath ghosted along your jaw. Where his presence surrounded you like something solid, something unshakable.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Not real.

Not like your body wanted it.

But the moment you hesitated, you felt the eyes of the room narrow on you. Alphas could smell uncertainty. Smell weakness.

So you did what you had to.

You let yourself lean into him.

You dropped your gaze, tilting your head slightly—offering your throat, just enough—and felt the deep rumble of Zemo’s approval vibrate through his chest.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

Your stomach flipped.

The seats of these places were designed to reflect the power alphas had. They had a step in front of them, where you had to sit, knelt in front of Zemo. He settled into the velvet, exuding the controlled confidence he wore like a second skin.

“Comfortable?” You muttered bitterly.

Zemo’s chuckle was nearly drowned out by the auction beginning, a man on the stage talking but you drowned out his words. You had a mission, you needed to get to the main officer, find the ledger and any other information you could. The authorities had already been made aware and would be back the moment you gave the signal.

His hand snaked down your shoulder and back, finally landing on your waist, resting there. You involuntarily shivered. You tried to remind yourself that it was just apart of the mission, to show dominance amongst the scum but you couldn’t deny the way it made your legs quiver.

Zemo's grip on your waist subtly loosened. His fingers brushed against the small device hidden beneath the folds of your dress—a silent signal.

Now.

With practiced ease, you shifted away from him, your movements fluid, graceful, unremarkable in a room full of alphas far more interested in the display of bound omegas than one quietly slipping away.

Zemo played his role well. He remained seated, his expression one of mild disinterest as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass, looking every bit the bored aristocrat. But you knew better.

He was watching.

Always watching.

You made your way through the shadowed corridors of the auction house, moving quickly but carefully. The blueprint Jordi had provided was burned into your mind, each turn and doorway mapped out with precision.

The main office was your target.

You reached the heavy door at the end of the hallway and slipped inside, moving straight to the desk. A sleek black computer sat at the center, its screen locked behind layers of encryption.

You pulled out a small drive and interest it into the port. Jordi had given you this device specifically for this mission It would work fast, cracking the security while downloading everything onto an external server.

Before the progress bar could even reach 10%, the air shifted.

You smelt it. The stench of an alpha, only there was hint of something chemical, meaning that whoever this person was, they were enhanced in some way.

You turned, just in time for a fist to connect with your ribs, sending you crashing into the desk. The sharp edge bit into your side, pain blooming across your torso as you gasped for breath.

Your attacker was huge.

Not just tall—muscular, built.

The way he moved, the sheer force behind his strike—it was obvious. You’d fought enough enhanced soldiers to recognize the telltale signs.

A super soldier.

Great, the last thing you needed was to be going up against another Captain America rip off.

"Shouldn’t have come here, little omega," the man rumbled, his voice thick with amusement as he cracked his knuckles. "You really thought you could sneak in and walk out alive?"

You didn’t answer.

Instead, you wiped the blood from your lip and shifted into a defensive stance, steadying your breathing.

Because you weren’t dead yet.

And if this bastard thought you were going down easy—

He was about to be very disappointed.

The super soldier lunged at you.

You barely dodged, twisting to the side as his fist shattered the desk where you’d been standing a second ago. Splinters of wood exploded outward, but you didn’t flinch.

Keep moving.

Your training kicked in—muscle memory taking over as you pivoted on your heel, using the momentum to drive your elbow into his ribs. He barely reacted, but you weren’t expecting him to.

Super soldiers take more than brute force.

His next swing came fast, but you were faster. You ducked, sliding beneath his arm and striking out with a sharp kick to the back of his knee. It buckled, just slightly—enough for you to grab the knife from your thigh holster and drive it toward his neck.

He caught your wrist mid-swing.

Shit.

"Nice try," he sneered, twisting your arm. Pain shot through your shoulder, but you let it happen, using the force of his grip to pull him forward—right into your knee.

His head snapped back, and you wrenched free, flipping the knife in your grip before slashing across his chest. The blade barely cut through his tactical gear. You needed to aim for softer targets.

"Omega, status?"

Zemo’s voice crackled in your ear. You could hear the tension beneath his composed tone.

You ducked another strike, feeling the heat of the super soldier’s fist grazing past your face.

"Little distraction," you muttered, gritting your teeth.

The super soldier snarled, swiping for your throat. You threw yourself backward, twisting mid-air as his fist grazed your arm—

No, not grazed—

A sharp, searing pain bloomed through your bicep.

You hit the ground, eyes flicking down. Blood. The bastard had a gun. You hadn’t even seen him draw it.

"Omega," Zemo’s voice cut through the haze of pain, he almost sounded worried, tense. "Report."

The super soldier stalked forward, gun still raised.

You clenched your jaw, rolling your injured shoulder as you rose to your feet.

"I’m handling it," you said, voice tight.

Zemo let out a low hum over the comms.

"So stubborn, liebling."

You exhaled sharply, grip tightening around your knife as the super soldier smirked.

"That was your one shot," you told him, shifting your stance.

Because now?

You were pissed.

The super soldier came at you again, fast and relentless. The pain in your arm burned, but you pushed it aside, narrowing your focus. You had one goal—put him down.

He swung wide. You ducked under the punch, spinning on your heel and using your momentum to drive your knife into the soft flesh beneath his ribs. A normal man would have gone down instantly, but this wasn’t a normal man.

The super soldier grunted, reaching for you. You twisted the blade, then ripped it free.

He staggered.

Not enough.

You darted behind him, wrapping an arm around his throat and locking your legs around his waist. A chokehold. He thrashed, trying to pry you off, but you gritted your teeth and held on.

Super soldiers needed oxygen, same as everyone else.

His movements became sluggish.

Then—a gunshot.

The super soldier jerked. You released him, letting his body crumple to the ground. Your breath came fast, your injured arm throbbing.

Zemo stood near the doorway, lowering his gun. His gaze flicked from the body to you.

"Disgusting thing," he murmured, stepping inside. He approached smoothly, scanning you for injuries.

His eyes lingered on your bleeding arm.

“Don’t you work with three of them?” You huffed.

“And I will deal with them if I ever need to,” Zemo hummed.

His hand reached out to your arm, but you took a step back. This was a mission, it was still going on. You couldn’t afford to be vulnerable here. Zemo lowered his hand.

“Come. Let’s see what they were hiding.”

You both walked back to the desk, where the device was still downloading the data. Zemo opened the draws, pulling out a stack of files. You flinched, seeing the symbol printed on them.

Hydra.

“Great.” You spoke spitefully.

“Like I said, they’ve been experimenting with old Hydra tech,” Zemo spoke calmly as he opened the files, glancing inside, “We will take these,”

You busied yourself with a thick book, flicking it open.

The ledger.

As you opened it, a name stood out that made your heart stop.

Your ex-mate.

Your dead ex-mate.

Zemo must have smelt the sudden change in your scent, the way it soured and twisted in the air. He stepped closer just as your breath caught, your fingers shook as you poked the name.

He had been a trafficker.

He had been with Hydra.

“Liebling,” Zemo’s calm voice sounded but you didn’t focus on it.

The shock, from Zemo’s scent to finding about such a betrayal, your instincts were starting to go haywire. You needed to stay calm but you couldn’t, a sound working it’s way up your chest and out your throat.

You whined.

Zemo was quick to shut the ledger, tucking the book under his arm as loud foosteps sounded outside the door. Your hands were shaking as you reached for the device, only for Zemo to grab it before you could.

“Not now, omega,” He spoke oddly calmly but his scent smelt like anger.

Distress.

“Jordi,” Zemo spoke over the comms, “We’d like to come home now,”

“Permission, boss?” Her voice called back.

“Permission granted, Hase,”

Jordi appeared out of no where, standing between you and Zemo. You jumped slightly, brows furrowed as you tried to figure out where the hell she had come from.

The tech nerd grabbed both your arm and Zemo’s and you were gone.

It was like a flash of white and coldness before the three of you appeared in the Thunderbolts foyer.

A wave of nausea rolled over you, making you stumble to the nearest bin and release the contents of your stomach.

Jordi winced as Zemo slapped the device into her hand, “Sorry, it’s a bit of a shock to the system the first time,”

“She needs medical attention, Jordi,” Zemo stated firmly, leaving no room for argument as Jordi helped you up.

It wasn’t the authority of Baron Zemo, it was the voice of an alpha.

"Let’s get you patched up,”

—-

Jordi’s medical room isn’t massive but it’s surprisingly cozy.

Fairy lights trail along the ceiling, and a stack of thick blankets sits on a cushioned bench. You sit on it with a grunt, cradling your bleeding arm. The shock of the ledger hasn’t quite worn off yet; your mind races between the pain in your body and the revelation from those files.

Jordi rifles through a drawer, pulling out bandages and a small medkit. "This might sting," she says, as she dabs at your wound with antiseptic.

You wince but don’t flinch, letting her work. "How long did it take you to get used to that... teleporting thing?"

"Honestly, it’s still difficult, I only really use it when it’s needed," she grins, glancing up at you from behind her glasses. "Freaked out a lot, ended up in some weird places."

You give a short laugh that comes out shakier than you’d like. Jordi’s easygoing manner is a good distraction, but your thoughts keep racing.

You didn’t expect this to hit so hard, you’d seen his body in the rubble of the destroyed SHIELD building. You had worked alongside him, grew to love him and eventually bonded with him.

Was it a lie? Was anything about him even real?

Jordi doesn’t try to talk to you about it. She knows better.

You stared at Jordi as she stitched up your arm, her brows furrowed together in concentration and tongue poking out slightly. But your gaze was on the pinkish scar on her neck, not even the tiniest bit hidden.

It was a bond bite.

“You get that willingly?” You asked softly.

“Oh?” Jordi pulled back slightly, “The bite? Yeah, Yeah I did,”

“Are they a good alpha?” You questioned.

Jordi chuckled as she placed the surgical tools in the kidney dish, “Yeah, Peter’s amazing, just took me a while to see it,”

“Peter?” You raised an eyebrow, “As in Peter Parker, Spiderman?

“You didn’t know?” Jordi’s eyes widened in surprise.

You shook your head slowly, the pieces clicking together now. “He doesn’t seem like the alpha type.”

“Well, he is,” Jordi laughed, securing a bandage around your arm with quick efficiency. “And he’s mine.”

You felt a strange pang of envy at how easy she made it sound. At the way her face brightened just talking about him. “And you’re happy?” You asked, trying to keep your voice casual.

Jordi nodded, leaning back to admire her handiwork on your arm. “Happier than I ever thought possible. Funny, considering I hated him when we first met,”

Your eyes flicked to the side before you spoke, “How does Spiderman’s omega become the doctor and engineer for The Thunderbolts?”

“Well, I started off as Tanya Stark’s intern, trained under her until some weird shit happened, got bonded to Peter during all that weird shit and then got transferred when they formed The Thunderbolts,” Jordi shrugged as she sat backwards in her chair, a cute grin on her face, “I also worked in a bakery for spare cash,”

“You’re barely twenty,”

“I got into college at fourteen,”

“Of course you did,” you muttered, a reluctant smirk pulling at your lips.

“What about you?” Jordi asked. “I can smell the way you and Zemo react to each other?”

That was the end of this conversation. You stood up, pulling your jacket on before heading towards the door.

“Hey! Everyone can see the weird ass tension you two got!”

You paused, your hand hovering over the doorknob. “It’s nothing,” you muttered, a little too quickly.

“Sure,” Jordi said, not buying it for a second. “But if you want to talk about it…”

You didn’t wait for her to finish, slipping out and letting the door click shut behind you.

You find yourself stepping into the Thunderbolts briefing room, taking a seat as you just stare at the window, looking at the New York skyline.

Your entire life was coming crashing down.

When you had first joined SHIELD, you were changing your life, getting away from what had been your home life with your parents. SHIELD had become your life, you trained to be the best at what you did and joining that squad had been you finding your found family. You had a friendship with every single member, met your mate and bonded with him. Then it was time for you to retire, start thinking about the future.

The day he died had been the fall of SHIELD, when Hydra had taken over. It was supposed to be his last day, you were going to be moving inland, starting a life and a family together. Then he died and you blamed Steve Rogers at first, you hunted him down and almost killed him until Sam had talked you out of it.

Then, you spent your years hunting down hydra, hunting down anyone that hurt others. Because your mate would have wanted that, he was brave, he protected others.

And now, you knew he was a liar.

You stared at the table, fingers laced together as you simply sat in silence. There was an edge in the air, something that you weren’t sure you were ready to face.

You felt empty- hollow. There was nothing left to focus on. No next step.

The door creaked open, your senses, hyper aware and trained immediately picked up on the distinct scent. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Zemo.

Of course it was him.

He stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him, his presence as commanding as ever. He didnd’t speak at first, just observed you for a moment from across the room. His expression remained unreadable, but his gaze was sharp, as thought he could see straight through you. As if he could feel all the emotions coursing through your body.

“You’re alone,” Zemo remarked finally, sitting down across from you without waiting for an invitation. His voice was calm, steady, the cool authority always present.

You exhaled, a small, humourless laugh escaped your lips as you tilted your head up to meet his eyes. “I’m not surprised. I don’t anyone would want to be around me right now,”

Zemo didn’t respond immediately, instead, he leaned back in his chair with a quiet, almost imperceptible shrug.

After a beat of silence, you finally spoke, voice low and uncertain as if you were questioning yourself. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now, Zemo,”

Your words were a confession, an admission of vulnerability that you never allowed anyone to hear. Not even yourself. Your life up until not had been a series of missions, a strong of one objective after another, always moving forward, always with a purpose. But now? Now it was all over, your life shattered.

For the first time in years, tears rolled down your cheeks. Your instincts were flaring up, finally unleashed after you had closed them off for so long.

Zemo studied you for a moment, his expression thoughtful.

“Retire,” He said, his voice steady, almost too casual for the weight of the suggestion.

You blinked in surprise, a laugh coming out amongst the tears, “Retire? I’m a trained killer,” The words echoed out, gaze meeting his as you dared him to say it, “How the hell am I supposed to support myself if I retire?”

Zemo’s lips curled into a slight smirk, his eyes gleaming with a hunt of amusement. He leaned forward, hands resting on the table, scent thick in the air that curled around you like some sort of brace, a support.

“You’d be surprised how much you can accomplish without having to worry about paying bills,” He said, tone teasing, though there was an undercurrent of sincerity that you pause.

You were surprised by his answer, thought part of you had expected it. Zemo was wealthy- his resources, vast. It was always evident that the life Zemo lead was one filled with luxury, power and control with money hardly a concern. If this bond between you was real, some sort of twist of fate, he was already leaning into it.

“You want me to retire, live off your wealth?” You shook your head, tension in your shoulders easing slightly, though the uncertainty remained, “I don’t think I could do that, Zemo,”

His gaze softened, just a fraction, as though he understood exactly why you’d say that. Zemo was no stranger to pride, especially when it came to independence.

“I’m offering you an option,” He spoke, voice turned serious and direct, “It’s not about money. It’s about freedom. You’ve spent your life in service of others, living in the shadows. You don’t have to anymore,”

You looked at him for the longest moment, considering his words.

Could you really just walk away?

Zemo’s eyes never left your own, his scent still licking at your skin, as if softly begging you to take up his offer.

“You’ve earned peace,” He added quietly, his voice like velvet, almost soothing.

You exhaled slowly, mind swirling with the thoughts of what life could be like if you listened to him. If you took that step back, allowed yourself to breathe, to heal, to be with him.

The thought.. it was tempting with its simplicity.

“I don’t know,” You muttered, the weight pressing down on your chest, “I’ve never had peace,”

“Then allow yourself to find it, if not now, when?”

A beat of silence. A sliver of hope. Of something outside of missions, the violence, the constant fighting.

“How would I even begin?” You spoke small, vulnerable.

Zemo’s smirk returned, faint but genuine, “You start by allowing yourself to believe you’ve deserved it and then..maybe, you’ll let me support you,”

You stared at him. There was a strange, unexpected comfort in his words. For once, you didn’t fight your instincts, fight that crackle of electricity that came to life around him.

Resting your head on the table, you let yourself think about it. But slowly, your hand inched towards his own your fingers coming to rest in his palm.

Zemo accepted, like he always did. He always waited for you to make the first move. Like that day at the memorial when you had kissed him, like in the hotel room when you had rested against him. And now, with your hand resting in his own.

The silence stretched on, not uncomfortable but filled with unspoken words, unexpressed emotions. It was a silence that had weight, but for the first time it didn’t threaten to crush you. Zemo’s presence grounded you in a way you hadn’t expected. He didn’t push further, didn’t demand an answer or force you to confront what you weren’t ready to face. He just stayed there, holding your hand with a calm certainty that told you he wasn’t going anywhere.

You squeezed back after a moment, surprising yourself at how easy it was to allow that small gesture of acceptance. A nonverbal acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, his support—his offer of freedom—was something you could lean into. Something you could want.

—-

“Your Otecko and I rescued each other,” You whisper fondly.

You watch as your daughter’s eyes widen, intrigued, “Rescue? Like in the princess movies?”

You can’t help but smile more at the question, thinking about the fairytales that your daughter loved so much.

“Exactly like the princess movies,” You laugh.

She giggles, snuggling into her pillow while yawning, “Does that mean Otecko has a castle?”

“No, No castles,” You state with a grin, “But I’m sure if you asked, Otecko would buy you a castle,”

Before your daughter can speak, there’s a soft sound at the door followed by a chuckle. You smelt him before you heard him, your instincts still in tune with your surroundings. It was a habit you never really lost.

You look and find Zemo standing in the doorway, his presence unmistakable. His eyes soften as he steps into the room, moving closer to your daughter’s bed.

“What’s this I hear about castles, Zlatko?” His accent is thick as he speaks, sitting on the other side of your daughter.

Your daughter’s eyes light up immediately, sitting up a little straighter in her bed, “You made it home!”

Her little voice is full of excitement as Zemo cups her cheek, nodding, “I always make it home,”

“Mommy said you’d buy me a castle,” She giggles, laying down with heavy eyes, “Like in the princess movies,”

“I can see what I can do,” He chuckles before kissing your daughter’s forehead.

Your daughter laughs, eyes closing as she sinks deeper into the covers. You smile at her sleepy face, cherishing the simple peace of this moment.

“Good night, lovely,” You whisper as you kiss your daughter’s forehead.

She mumbles back a ‘good night’ in Sokovian before drifting off to sleep.

Zemo’s scent flares and you look at him.

“Rescue each other?” He whispers after a moment, amusement dancing in his tone.

“Would you rather I have told her the full story?” You quip, both of you standing up and heading to the door while Zemo flicks the lights off.

Her night light remains on as you both look at her sleeping form. Peacefully, calm, protected.

“You’re adorable, liebling,” He chuckles, that amusing taunt still in his voice.

“I can still beat your ass,” You whisper back, just as tauntingly.

“Oh, I know,”

[the-dreaming-angel]

saving bucky barnes chapter 9

"Zemo you just want me so you can get too bucky. Do you think I will let my guard down ?.. I won't ever I will never allow you to take bucky back to hydra. " Zemo replied I'm surprised you actually want a book on cooking from sokoiva". You look down "I've never tried it. but you always smelled so delicious I wanted to taste the food myself. " Zemo smirks, "I would love to teach you how to cook it properly draga. If you would let me in the tower I can teach you". you chuckle, nice try but I'm not inviting you into the tower. you let out a small whine as another cramp causes you to double over in pain. Zemo whispers his voice slightly thicker. you know draga it will only get worse, I've studied wolves if they don't have an alpha mate them they often go feral, or they are attacked by hunters because they are weaker. Clint walks back in holding a frozen coffee. "the Cinnabon place was closed". Zemo why are you here he asks with a death glare". you pick up your books and take them to the checkout counter. Zemo speaks softly "I came to apologize to y/n after I heard about what happened I realized it was all my fault." Clint checks on you over his shoulder what do u mean? I already know u hurt her last night are you telling me you don't remember doing that? Zemo looks down no I heard about the 8 dead bodies they found outside of a bar. they were all mauled by some animal 4 blocks from where she threw me through the wall. Clint whispers that's why she was drunk last night when we found her.

What do you mean? Clint, where did you find y/n? Clint checks on you again before replying. Bucky and I heard her scream and ran to her room to find her in the shower with all her clothes on, trying to frantically wash off she was saying it won't come off it won't come off. we had to give her some medicine to calm her down so we could find out what happened. bucky slept in his room with her to make sure she was ok. she came to the bookstore trying to feel better hence the coffee. you walk back over to Clint. "im checked out can we go now I do not want that smell getting on my jacket I just washed it" Zemo looks up at you "I am sorry for my actions draga but I meant what I said. " you glare at him "stay away from my human Zemo that's a warning. with that you disappear having teleported back to the tower. clint goes to talk to bucky. "bucky did you know she killed 8 people last night ? " bucky looks up from cleaning his guns "no but that would explain why she was so drunk last night I thought zemo had tried to trigger her and she managed to get away but that makes a lot more sense. Clint says zemo showed up at the book store he apologized to her but then threatened her because she won't come with him. bucky gets up and walks out to the kitchen where you are curled up reading under the counter. you look up at him and say softly I'm not mad at you anymore I understand you just wanted me to rest so I didn't get sick. y/n you killed 8 people last night why didn't you tell me that this morning? bucky stands there with his arms crossed looking very irritated waiting for an answer. you look down I don't remember doing it bucky I had no idea when zemo tried to bite me everything went black and then black I woke up next to you. bucky kneels on one knee and gently tilts your head back to make you look directly in the eyes with him . bucky i promise i didnt know . bucky gets up and walks back over to clint . " she says she dosent remember any thing and i can tell her in her eyes the the only thing she remembers is me triggering her to pass out . she has trama from zemo he used to taunt her and he was quite cruel to her he put her in the chair more made her fight more often it was like he was on a mission to make her kill him and then one night she snapped thats the night she still has nightmares about we almost escaped but she blacked out again and i was the only one around she attacked me and we both woke up in the med bay the doctors say the only reason i didnt bleed out was because my heart was beating so slowly from the extreme cold from the winter . i dont know why but she didnt leave me they said she was trying to get me too wake up when they found us. after that they kept her separated from me i would hear her screams i have no idea what he did to her but it must be pretty traumatic for her to switch personalities for hours like that . clint whispers keep an eye on her he might tell the police they might come asking questions. it dosent matter if she doesn't remember doing it she did it . she said something about a scent getting in her jacket at the store she just washed it . bucky looks over towards the kitchen before whispering cherry blossoms she told me before thats what he smells like normally i imagine now he smells like that plus the scent of an alpha. the two walk over to the kitchen to find you asleep with your blanket and a book in top in your lap.

zemo couldn't sleep the scent of you drove him mad he wanted nothing more than to rut deep inside of you . he was fascinated with you while u were at hydra. he had a soft spot for you that was why he would train your harder, he didnt want you being replaced. when he almost lost you he separated you from the soldier, unless the two of you were sparing or on a mission. he couldnt out his finger on it but he didnt want to let you go unfortunately him pushing you so hard caused him to one of the first ones you attacked when you finally did snap it was terrifying. he wanted to teach you how to cook the dishes from his home land sonce you seemed so intrigued by them . he knew he had to bring the soldier back with or without you he snarled at the thought of them hurting you again he get up to take a shower hoping it would help he allowed the water to run he leaned his head back trying to calm him self .

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

highridge university faculty members

take her under your wing 101

return to the au guide | au masterlist | pinterest board

masterlist | join my taglist 

Dr. Peter Parker

professor at Highridge University | teaches a course about medical history

stressed single dad in desperate need of a nanny | father of 6-year-old Benjamin

lives in a house not too far from campus

last listened to song on spotify: when i kissed the teacher by ABBA

Dr. Reed Richards

professor at Highridge University | teaches a course about advanced neurobiology | faculty advisor to Kappa Alpha Nu

hot shot neurosurgeon finally slowing his roll a bit and teaching on the side

he’s a total perv, but because of what a legend he is in his field, he can get away with essentially everything 

last listened to song on spotify: teacher’s pet by Doris Day

Helmut Zemo

ethics professor at Highridge University

last listened to song on spotify: sometimes by Britney Spears

Logan Howlett

history professor at Highridge University

never goes anywhere without his little flask

last listened to song on spotify: simple man by Lynyrd Skynyrd

Dr. Tony Stark

professor in the science department at Highridge University

last listened to song on spotify: you shook me all night long by AC/DC

Dr. Bruce Banner

professor at Highridge University | teaches a course on advanced biology

last listened to song on spotify: jump by The Pointer Sisters

Loki Laufeyson

poetry professor at Highridge University |  faculty advisor to Gamma Sigma Zeta

Thor’s adopted older brother

last listened to song on spotify: teeth by Lady Gaga

Nick Fury

dean of Highridge University 

last listened to song on spotify: shoop by Salt-N-Pepa

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[hereticpriest]

Masterlist

MDNI

Series

Mercy

Rating: Explicit 18+

Relationship: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

To begin with, some warnings about this story: A/B/O Dynamics, Female Alpha, Male Omega, Some chapters may involve messing with the whole 'alphas are always dom and omegas are always sub' because I think nuance exists even in A/B/O dynamics, Fucking with the timeline (this is a blend of Canon, Legends, and original lore), Minimal use of Y/N (Explained in the first chapter), Reader is an alien species of my own creation and thus has a physical description, Familial bonds explored heavily, Clone rights explored heavily, Violence is more graphic than canon-typical however any graphic descriptions will be noted, AFAB reader, Not beta-read so I apologize for any mistakes.

Read on AO3

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Nine Point Five - Part Ten -

Miniseries

The Typist - Laszlo Kreizler and his Bitey Wife

Bite - Laszlo Kreizler x reader ft odaxelagnia

Chew - Laszlo Kreizler x reader ft odaxelagnia, prequel to Bite

Swallow - Laszlo Kreizler x reader ft odaxelagnia, prequel to Bite and sequel to Chew

Gulp - Laszlo Kreizler x reader ft lactation and mommy kink, sequel to Swallow

Alpha Mine - Laszlo Kreizler x reader ft Omegaverse, AU to The Typist series

Bokeh - Niki Lauda and his Photographer Wife (Mouse)

Muse - Niki Lauda x photographer!reader ft soft femdom and bondage and breeding

What Happens in Ibiza - Niki Lauda x photographer!reader x James Hunt ft threesomes, double penetration and anal

Life and Death - Niki Lauda x photograhper!reader x James Hunt ft heavy hurt/comfort and mild petplay

Brûlée - Dirk Brûlée and his Single Mama

Sriracha - Dirk Brûlée x single mom!reader ft sex toys/sybian

Red Carpet - Dirk Brûlée x single mom!reader ft breeding

Victory - Helmut Zemo and his Super Soldier

Pyrrhic - Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader ft 14k of HYDRA being the worst and Helmut Zemo being a consent king

Clutch - Helmut Zemo x Reader ft daddy kink, Hydra hunting and impact play

Oneshots

The Bath - Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader ft cockwarming

Ctrl and Power - Ernst Schmidt x Reader ft rough sex and secret relationships

Ganache - Tony Balerdi x Original Male Character ft food play and body worship

Requests and Prompts

Reader likes to come up behind Zemo and kiss or bite him

Roman Sionis fucking reader in his club and being a show off about it (and also he's a total switch)

Roman Sionis making female reader cockwarm him during a gang meeting

Obi-Wan Kenobi noticing female reader's tattoos after sex and pausing to enjoy them

[ao3feed-sambucky]

Repeat Until Death

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/91dTLbt by Aethermint "If that tea isn’t laced with bourbon or classified sedatives, I’m not interested.” Mel offered a faint smirk and a flash drive. “No bourbon. But classified intel recieved from our last mission, and also uh... well, it's about the team. You're going to want to sit down for this one.” Val sighed and took the tea, her tone dry. “If this has anything to do with Captain America, time travel, or another Barnes-related disaster, I’m walking into traffic.” She kept walking. Of course she was going to read the file. She always did. But a girl could dream. "It's... all three actually. The New Avengers or uh, The Thunderbolts now I guess, are gone. With Captain America." Jesus Fucking Christ. Ava and the rest of the Thunderbolts deal with domesticity, time travelling shenanigans and villains in the search to find their missing team-mate, Bucky. Even worse, they're stuck in the late 1940s with Sam Wilson. And Steve Rogers isn't having the best time. Peggy Carter isn't either. Words: 2652, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thunderbolts (Movie 2025) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Yelena Belova, Alexei Shostakov, Ava Starr, John Walker (Marvel), Robert "Bob" Reynolds (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Rebecca Barnes Proctor, Helmut Zemo, Kate Bishop, Joaquín Torres (Marvel) Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Yelena Belova & Kate Bishop, Ava Starr & John Walker, Yelena Belova & Robert "Bob" Reynolds Additional Tags: Set in 1940s Brooklyn (Marvel), Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travel, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Protective Steve Rogers, Domestic Thunderbolts Team (Marvel), John Walker Not Being an Asshole (Marvel), Non-Consensual Body Modification, Found Family, Domestic Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson, Soft Bucky Barnes, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Post-Movie: Thunderbolts (2025) read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/91dTLbt

[the-ravening]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you @zsparz and @six-demon-bag for tagging me! ❤️

1. How many works do you have on ao3? Only 12, because I am a baby writer.

2. What's your total ao3 word count? 86k

3. What fandoms do you write for? Winterbaron, or more accurately, Zemo/everyone

4. Top five fics by kudos: Let's do a top 3, since top 5 would just be like half my fics.

Something Sweet to Eat (142 kudos) Extremely underage Halloween fic, bunny boy Zemo shows up trick or treating at Bucky's house Adopt, Don’t Shop (123 kudos) Omegaverse, bratty teen Zemo is for sale at an Omega kennel and Alpha Bucky goes shopping Gift-Wrapped (113 kudos) This was the first fic I ever posted (just a few years ago) and I'm still pretty proud of it. Just a silly Winterbaron rimming PWP, but it's hot

5. Do you respond to comments? I try to, I always mean to, but I think I'm a bit behind right now. I know there are some amazing comments on Home to Me from last year that I still haven't replied to and I feel bad about it all the time.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably Under Lock and Key (what a mess we’ve made), the Heinrich/Helmut Zemo dadcest fic I wrote for @ex0rin where I followed her hurt/no comfort philosophy of leaving him on the floor crying.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I don't know if I really do happy endings? I have PWPs where the happy ending is they both come, if that counts. 😅 Let's say... Ink Kissed (with violent precision) where tattoo artist Bucky gives his client Zemo a dick tattoo, and Zemo ends up quite happy with the tattoo as well as the rest of the service.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I've only gotten one or two of the world's mildest hate comments. I guess my ships are sufficiently niche that no one cares about them.

9. Do you write smut? Yeah! Do I write anything other than smut? No.

10. Craziest crossover: I've only written one crossover, A Suitable Course of Treatment, Bucky Barnes/Laszlo Kreizler from The Alienist, which isn't crazy at all because as we all know, Laszlo has Zemo's face. (If it counts, I once started a Dir en grey x Sailormoon fic where the band members magically turned into Sailor Scouts, but I did not ever get far on it.)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, the aforementioned Adopt, Don’t Shop was co-written with @violenciorp and @tales-from-a-maphia-don, because Vio lovingly bullied us into it, despite me and Mel ostensibly not being into Omegaverse.

14. All time favorite ship? I've jumped ship a lot over the years, but it's gotta be Winterbaron, since this is the ship that finally got me writing and posting and getting really involved in a fandom.

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? The first serious attempt I made at writing in this fandom was this teen Zemo necrophilia thing, and I wrote the necro part but none of the plotty stuff leading up to it. I still dream of finishing it, in an abstract way where I have no motivation to ever work on it.

16. What are your writing strengths? I think I'm pretty good at rhythm and flow and making my prose sound musical? That's something I focus a lot on and I tend to read aloud while editing to make sure it sounds good to my ear.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Probably plot and dialogue, and figuring out how to include technical details of things I know nothing about. But most of all procrastination, my arch-nemesis.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I personally avoid it, because I find it annoying to have to look up the translations in the middle of reading. I prefer to just say they're speaking in whatever language but write the dialogue in English.

19. First fandom you wrote in? J-rock RPF in the early 2000s, but I mostly just did a bit of RP and never got far with any fics I started.

20. Favorite fic you've written? Sometimes it feels like every new thing I post is my new favourite, haha. But I thiiiink my fave has been Something Sweet to Eat since I wrote it (the Halloween fic mentioned earlier), because it's probably the most self-indulgent thing I've written to date. I am truly the main audience for that fic and I'm very happy with it.

No pressure tagging: @violenciorp, @tales-from-a-maphia-don, @thepiper0fhameln, @ex0rin, @unlikelymilliner, @evenmyhivemindisempty, and anyone else who sees this and wants to join in!

[six-demon-bag]

resonance hybrid

Pairing: Ernst Schmidt/Helmut Zemo

Summary: Schmidt, a throwback omega with physical traits that keep him on the outside of society, ends up in the sights of a dangerous and possessive man when he turns up in another universe after an experiment on the station goes wrong. Maybe being in an entirely different universe is what Schmidt needs to finally find the acceptance he’s never had before.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Crossover, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, but also not omegaverse, Omega Ernst Schmidt, schmidtys got all the parts, low self-esteem schmidt, not alpha zemo, double dick zemo, Anal Fingering, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Rimming, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Double Penetration in One Hole, Double Penetration in Two Holes, EKO Scorpion Helmut Zemo, Multiple Orgasms, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Knotting, Mating Bond, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Word count: 8242

Link: resonance hybrid

Excerpt:

Keys jangle and the door screeches as Zemo steps in, crouching in front of Schmidt’s mat. Schmidt tries to look smaller and uninteresting. There’s nothing he can do but wait and hope Zemo gets bored fast. “There’s something about you,” Zemo says, his hand firm on Schmidt’s jaw as he turns his sweaty face up to meet his eyes. His thumb strokes Schmidt’s chin idly and Schmidt barely keeps himself from leaning into it. Zemo might not be an alpha, but the command in him pulls on his stupid omega instincts just as much. “What is it,” Zemo muses, sharp eyes searching Schmidt’s face. “You don’t do anything, yet there’s something.” “No,” Schmidt grits out around clenched teeth. “There’s nothing.”

[illicien]

We did it, guys. A day later that planned, but it means it was perfectly in time for an enabler's birthday so HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEEEECH.

My... WinterBaron debut, I guess. Oops? Look it's 4AM and I finished writing and editing it like 10 minutes ago. Y'all get what you get.

Summary:

When you're on a mission and your usually (somewhat) reliable partner goes into heat and becomes something of a beacon for trouble, what do you do? Or: WinterBaron A/B/O to fuck with the rise of AI

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Marvel Cinematic Universe

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV)

Relationship:

James "Bucky" Barnes/Helmut Zemo

Characters:

James "Bucky" Barnes

Helmut Zemo

Additional Tags:

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Knotting

Oral Sex

Rimming

Multiple Orgasms

look I forgot how to tag things okay?

It's porn

what do you want from me

Thank you so much for the inspo @knotinmyname

[ao3feed-steggy]

Repeat Until Death

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/PdxUNV1 by Aethermint "If that tea isn’t laced with bourbon or classified sedatives, I’m not interested.” Mel offered a faint smirk and a flash drive. “No bourbon. But classified intel recieved from our last mission, and also uh... well, it's about the team. You're going to want to sit down for this one.” Val sighed and took the tea, her tone dry. “If this has anything to do with Captain America, time travel, or another Barnes-related disaster, I’m walking into traffic.” She kept walking. Of course she was going to read the file. She always did. But a girl could dream. "It's... all three actually. The New Avengers or uh, The Thunderbolts now I guess, are gone. With Captain America." Jesus Fucking Christ. Ava and the rest of the Thunderbolts deal with domesticity, time travelling shenanigans and villains in the search to find their missing team-mate, Bucky. Even worse, they're stuck in the late 1940s with Sam Wilson. And Steve Rogers isn't having the best time. Peggy Carter isn't either. Words: 2652, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thunderbolts (Movie 2025) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Yelena Belova, Alexei Shostakov, Ava Starr, John Walker (Marvel), Robert "Bob" Reynolds (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Rebecca Barnes Proctor, Helmut Zemo, Kate Bishop, Joaquín Torres (Marvel) Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Yelena Belova & Kate Bishop, Ava Starr & John Walker, Yelena Belova & Robert "Bob" Reynolds Additional Tags: Set in 1940s Brooklyn (Marvel), Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travel, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Protective Steve Rogers, Domestic Thunderbolts Team (Marvel), John Walker Not Being an Asshole (Marvel), Non-Consensual Body Modification, Found Family, Domestic Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson, Soft Bucky Barnes, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Post-Movie: Thunderbolts (2025) read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/PdxUNV1

[missjaystone]

Inescapable

Summary: Even in the middle of the ocean, your alpha manages to find you, even if it was an accident. Pairing(s): Alpha!Helmut Zemo x Reader Word Count: 3,640 Warning(s): NONCON! DUBCON! A/B/O Dynamics! Forced Claiming! Manipulation! Implied Stalking! Miscarriage mentioned! Death mentioned!

Everything around you froze when you looked up and met a certain pair of brown eyes, a certain sparkle when they looked into yours. The contact was brief before he was led around the corner by the Dora Milaje but it felt like it would never end. You worked on the Raft as a therapist to put as much distance between the two of you as possible but now that he was here, where could you go? The way he smiled at you as he walked by, it wasn't comforting like the first time you'd seen it, it made your heart stop in fear. It made his claiming mark on your neck throb in pain, a reminder of how much power he'd had over you before and how much he'd always have. It reminded you that he was your alpha, whether you wanted him to be or not. The man that passed by you wasn't the man you'd met, he was much worse.

The battle was over, your husband was dead, the child you were growing followed suit not long after you got the news, like he couldn't bear to even be born in a world without his father; you couldn't even blame him, you'd contemplated ending your own life to join your husband in whatever afterlife awaited. You'd just gone back to work after your allotted week of bereavement leave and another week of personal time. You weren't sure if you were ready to go back to work or not, but at the very least it would distract you. The first thing you noticed when stepping into your office were the pictures of you, your husband, and his family. You turned the picture frames face down before you could stare for too long, everyone in the pictures was dead; your husband, your mother and father in law, your two brothers-in-law, everyone.

Your first patient came exactly at 9:30 for their appointment. He was a brown-eyed brunette man of average height, dressed surprisingly nice for a therapy appointment. You greeted him with a soft smile and a handshake. "Welcome, Mr..." you trailed off so he could introduce himself. "Zemo," he answered, his thumb running over your knuckles gently before he let go of your hand and took a seat "Baron Helmut Zemo." "Would you like me to address you as Baron Zemo or Mr. Zemo? Or just simply Helmut if that would make you comfortable?" You asked him. "You can just call me Helmut, Doctor, but thank you for asking," he returned the same sad smile you'd given him when he came in. "Well, Helmut, I'm glad you came in. It's never easy dealing with loss and having someone to talk to is far better than bottling it up. I'm proud of you." He gave a single nod after looking around the office, motioning to the overturned picture on your desk "I thought my friend might be nuts to have referred me here but maybe you understand my pain better than anyone can." You smiled sadly at him "you'd be surprised at how many people understand." You saw his attention drift towards the sweets jar on your desk, holding it out to him "Turkish delight?" He smiled a bit more, this time a little more genuine as he took a piece out "don't mind if I do, Doctor."

After your first appointment, he came back twice a week. He told you about his wife and son, how much it hurt when he finally found their bodies amidst all the rubble. You asked him about his favorite memories with them, trying to make him remember the good times. You asked him about them; his wife's favorite flower or his son's favorite toy, encouraged him to open up about them. Soon he had you talking about your husband and the people you lost. It was amazing how effortlessly he tore down both your professional and emotional walls. He had you falling for him before you even knew you were.

For two months you tried every which way to talk him down off of his growing rage and hatred for the Avengers. You used everything you'd learned in school to make him understand breaking them apart wouldn't bring back his family or make anything better. At the beginning of the third month, he seemed to drop it, and you foolishly thought that was the end of it, that he'd seen reason. He'd slowly been getting bolder during your appointments, asking questions, each more personal than the last but only by a little. One evening, after seeing him for almost four months, he showed up about half an hour after your last appointment of the day, it was about a quarter of six. He was dressed just as nice as he always was, maybe even nicer "I hate to disturb you so late, doctor but may I take you out to dinner this evening? I'd very much like to thank you for these past months; I knew it's your job but I can't imagine what kind of troubled headspace I'd be in if I didn't have you to talk to." He'd asked so politely, how could you refuse? While you gathered your things, you missed the hungry look in his eyes. You missed the way they dragged over your body, the same way a lion looks at his prey. You'd be his omega soon. Whether you wanted it or not. You were his innocent, gentle little lamb and you needed to be protected from other wolves.

Thirty minutes later, the two of you were at his favorite fine dining restaurant in all of Novi Grad. It was fun, the most fun you'd had in months since the battle of Sokovia and the heartbreak that followed. After that first dinner together, it became a more frequent occurrence, usually once a week after his appointment. You were smart, you knew how stupid it was to be dining with the patient so frequently. This professional relationship was becoming close and intimate. He had you on the hook before you could even realize it and pull away. As you began dining with him more, your guard fell. Helmut was no longer your patient, he was your friend, he understood your pains. You began dining together more frequently and then he introduced alcohol into the equation.

When you looked back at everything, you cursed yourself for being so stupid. How could you not see his plan? He was making you comfortable so it'd be easier for him to go in for the kill. Everything you shared with him would get used against you later. Helmut could play your mind like a flute and you let him, you gave him the tools he needed to find your weak spots and exploit them for his own benefit. If he'd crashed into your life and caused as much trouble as he had, you could hate him, but you let him in, welcomed him even and he made himself as comfortable as possible before finally taking what he came for.

Your first night together was gentle and slow, getting to know each other's bodies on such an intimate level. You turned your back to him afterward, eyes watering as the feeling of betrayal settled in the pit of your stomach like a stone. "What's the matter, malo jagnje? Did I hurt you?" He'd asked softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder as he looked you over worriedly. You shook your head, quickly wiping your tears before they hit the satin pillow sheets beneath you. "No, it's not you, Helmut," you whispered. "Then what?"  He asked, a worried frown on his face. "I just worry, it feels too soon, like I've already started moving on," you answered with a sniffle. "Nobody mourns the same, jagnje, it's different for everyone. You told me that," he assured you, wrapping you in his arms and pulling your back to his chest.

He repeated everything you'd told him whenever you got emotional. 'Sometimes the best way to honor someone's memory is to find new ways to be happy' 'you can't beat yourself up for being happy without them, this is what they would have wanted' 'nobody can ever replace them but you can't wallow in self-pity forever'. Every piece of advice you gave him was used back against you. The two of you had been seeing each other for two months before you stopped answering his calls and messages. He'd shown up at your apartment when you hadn't returned his messages, worried something had happened to you, that his little side activities trying to destroy the Avengers might have led to you being hurt or captured or worse.

He was relieved to find you alive and well. "You haven't been speaking to me, are you unwell?" He asked after you hesitantly let him inside. "I don't think I can keep doing this, Helmut, I'm sorry," you said in a shaky, quiet voice. His face fell in disappointment "what's the matter? Have I done something? Malo jagnje, please, you can tell me anything you know that," he pleaded, taking your hand only to have it slowly pulled from his grasp.

"It's not you, Helmut," you said as clearly as you could muster, wiping the tears that were already beginning to roll down your cheeks. "Then what is it, moj voljeni? What's happened?" He pleaded for an answer. "It was too soon, I can feel myself forgetting him and I don't want to. I don't want to forget all the time me and Christoph spent imagining and building our future together. I don't want to forget about the baby we almost had, that died inside of me almost as soon as he heard the news of his father's death. I don't want to forget everything he and I had but when I'm with you, I feel the memories slipping away and I'm not ready and I'm so sorry for that Helmut," you told him, sniffling throughout. He stared at you for a long moment after you finished speaking, not saying anything. When he finally did react, he approached you and pressed a kiss to your forehead "I understand, little lamb, and I'll wait for you." With that, he gave you a tight hug, rubbing your back comfortingly as you sobbed into his chest for a bit before he left. You went to sleep that night thinking about how lucky you were to have a confidant like Helmut in your life.

You remembered thinking that was the end of things. He took it well and things would continue as they were before you became sexually involved. No wonder he called you his little lamb, you were too innocent and naive to see the anger in his eyes when you told him you'd stop sleeping together. If you knew then what you knew now, you would have run from the hills, hidden at the north pole. You would have gone to the police and gotten a restraining order or hired a security detail. But you didn't do any of that. You were a lamb being led to the slaughter by no one other than yourself.

Helmut stormed into your office on a night he knew you stayed late to put the week's worth of notes away in their correct files. As fast as he'd appeared, he'd closed and locked the door behind him, watching your stunned form for a reaction. "Helmut?" You barely managed to get his name out before he'd crossed the room, pulling you to him and into a rough kiss. No matter how much you shoved his chest, he only pulled away when he was ready to. He effortlessly picked you up and set you on your desk, already positioning himself between your legs "I've waited for you to realize your mistake, jagnje, but I'll wait no more. I know you love me, омега, you're troubled mind is still reeling from the loss too much to accept it." "Helmut, I don't want this anymore, stop it," you shoved him away but it did little to dissuade him. It only angered him.

He grabbed your jaw tightly and made you look into his eyes; the pools of brown swirls had been replaced by black, lust-blown pupils of a... an alpha going through his rut. It sent waves of panic through your mind but waves of something else to your core. You whimpered when you felt your heartbeat speed up, reacting to the alpha's close, intimidating presence. "Helmut this isn't what you want, this isn't you," you tried to reason despite the rising panic telling you to run. He chuckled darkly "oh, little lamb, this is what I've longed for since before I stepped foot in your office. I caught a whiff of your sweet, scent when you visited the memorial all those months ago and I knew you'd be mine. You might not want to admit it, but your body knows you need an alpha like me to treat you right, keep you safe," he hummed as he ground the growing bulge in his pants against your clothed core. "Helmut-" you started, but his squeezing your jaw harder made you stop immediately. "You'll address me as alpha from now on, little lamb. I'd rather not hurt you but tonight I will make you mine by any means necessary, understood?" He asked, loosening his hold so you could nod, which you did hesitantly.

Pleased, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pants and pulled them and your underwear down, a smirk appearing on his features. He pulled your pants completely off and discarded them carelessly, holding your underwear up so you could see just how much you didn't want this; the flimsy black fabric already had a small amount of slick arousal on it. You watched in embarrassed shock and he brought the fabric close and sniffed it, a pleased hum leaving his lips as he tucked them into the pocket of his pants. "I think you do want this little omega, you want to please your alpha don't you?" He asked softly as his hand slowly drifted higher up on your thigh. "You aren't my alpha, Helmut," you said bitterly, ignoring the tears that stung your eyes as you glared daggers at the man you'd considered your friend and confidant. He snarled and dropped his hand to your neck, squeezing until the air barely flowed "but I will me, little lamb. And you'll be my perfect little omega, my perfect girl who'll give me the family we both crave and deserve."

His hand on your thigh finally came in contact with your core which was already soaked and ready for him. He hastily pushed in two of his fingers, curling them as he pulled you into a dominating kiss, nipping your bottom lip enough to bruise. Your denials were muffled by his lips and soon faded into pitiful, needy whines from his unwanted touches. He smiled darkly against your lips when he felt your body arch into him "see, омега? Your body knows what it wants, it's that big beautiful brain of yours that's keeping you down." You shook your head, trying to save any dignity you had left, which was none "I don't want this, Helmut, and I don't want you!" The words felt like acid coming up but his chuckle hurt worse. He was three fingers deep in your cunt, pulling whines and quiet, muffled moans from your lips, he knew you didn't mean that.

When he abruptly pulled his fingers out, you regrettably let out a disappointed whine, another, needier whine following as you watched him suck his fingers clean without break eye contact. It took .2 seconds for him to undo his belt and push his pants and briefs down, stroking his throbbing cock while he looked into your eyes. His hand still holding your wrist remaining just as tight. "I'll always take good care of you, my needy little lamb, you'll never want for anything ever," he promised, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead that didn't match the roughness he used to immediately bury himself to the hilt. He started off with a brutal pace, not giving you any time at all to adjust as he had before. His thrusts were purely animalistic, he was just an alpha trying to knot the omega in front of him amid his own release. He let you bury your face in his chest as an escape for now, whispering the filthiest things you'd ever heard in your life.

"See, little lamb? See how much you need your alpha to make you feel good, make you feel better than good?" He asked when you finally gave up on trying to mentally escape the moment. "N-not my alpha," you stuttered out in between the rough hammering of his hips. He snarled and bared his teeth, eyes darkening even more than you thought possible. "We'll see," he mumbled angrily. He tilted your head and moved your hair out of the way quickly, leaving no time for you to react before he sunk his teeth into your mating gland, his hips faltering a few times before his movements went from thrusts to more a series of rapid ruts as his knot began to inflate. Your pained scream was music to his ears, it was the sound of you becoming his omega, making it so no other alpha alive would dare to so much as breath on you.

When he detached from your shoulder, he again pulled you into a kiss, making sure you could taste the metallic taste of your blood on his lips while the feeling of euphoria from the bite coursed through your veins, reaching every last nerve ending. He let out a pleased groan when he felt your cunt strain around his knot as you came, sending him headfirst into his own climax almost immediately. His face happily buried in your chest as he rode out his orgasm, ropes of his cum painting your walls, reaching your innermost areas while you held onto him for dear life.

Your stifled sobs made him look up, a small frown on his face. "Oh, little lamb, don't cry," he said softly as he wiped your cheeks "I just want to keep you safe from all the wolves in the world, it won't always be this way." He ignored how hard your palm connected to his cheek "you bastard!" He gently picked you up and sat down in your chair, letting you curl up in his lap without dislodging his knot, smirking slightly when he heard your whimper at the shift in position. He soothingly rubbed your back as he held you close, comforting you "it's okay, омега, I'd hoped you'd accept us on your own terms but my rut came early and nobody else will do." You hated this; being reduced to your dynamic, to some cock sleeve for him to use as he saw fit. He'd bound you to him for the rest of your lives and there was nothing you could do about it now, so you curled into his chest and sobbed until you had no more tears.

You recalled the way he stayed with you for the rest of the night, comforting and tending to you. He'd return often, usually every other day to take you out somewhere for a date or just show up at your apartment to do it all over again. You couldn't put up much of a fight, once he was close enough, your omega side came out and you were putty in his hands. And he knew that, and he treasured it. He showered you in gifts; clothes, jewelry, wines, books, everything he could think of. When his visits became few and further in between, you hated the nerves you felt. You hated the way you wondered when he'd come back home to you. You were messed up, and it felt like it was all your doing. You broke your professional rules. You let him into your life. You told him everything he needed to know to get to you. You let him claim you. You were Baron Helmut Zemo's little lamb, and he'd never let you forget it, leaving bruises on your thighs and hickeys on your neck to show any and everyone you were a protected little omega, and woe to anyone who caught your alpha's wrath.

You then had to watch in horror as his actions became known on the news; he'd never given up his plot to destroy the Avengers. He'd succeeded more than he could have ever dreamed of and now, he was in jail. He'd be in jail for the rest of his life. It felt like losing your husband all over again, the pain deep in your heart hurt twice as much now. You practically had to go through detox to get used to life without your Helmut around you. You were still protected by his mark but you'd never get to listen to him shower you with praises while he cleaned you up after sex. You had to get used to a life without being on his arm and you hated yourself for craving his attention and companionship that you'd still claim to hate.

He smiled so happy when they stopped while waiting for the door to open. He spoke in Sokovian so nobody around understood him "izgledaš prelepo kao onog dana kad sam te pogledao, jagnje malo." "What'd he just say?" Your superior asked, looking between the two of you. You felt that familiar stone in the pit of your stomach, he'd have you doing his bidding in no time. You were already wrapped around his finger. You shook your head and looked at your boss "he's mistaken me for someone else." "Jedva čekam da stignem, jagnje," Helmut said with a smirk before he was pulled away by a member of the Dora Milaje, leaving you with a wink.

-malo jagnje - мало јагње - little lamb -jagnje - јагње - lamb -moj voljeni? - мој вољени - my beloved -омега - omega -izgledaš prelepo kao onog dana kad sam te pogledao, jagnje malo - изгледаш прелепо као оног дана кад сам те погледао, јагње мало - you look as beautiful as the day I laid eyes on you, little lamb -Jedva čekam da stignem, jagnje - Једва чекам да стигнем, јагње - I can't wait to catch up, lamb

[ruquas]

The Accident

Fandom: MCU Title; The Accident Pairing; Bucky Barnes/Helmut Zemo Rating; T Summary; “I will simply follow you, whatever you will choose” Bucky answered, leaving out what they both knew – that he would always follow Zemo as long as the other man let him do it. AO3 can be found here

[the-dreaming-angel]

Saving bucky barnes chapter 8

bucky woke with a jump as the howl echoed through the quiet hallways . he jumped out the bed and quietly grabbed one of his knives . he knew he had laid y/n in her bed hours ago. he saw clint as he exited his room and said what the hell happened barton ? clint replied "y/n woke up and took her med's she looked haunted so she went hunting. i don't know why she howled i had came to the kitchen and heard it so i was coming to check." bucky quickly made his way to your door and opened it he heard the shower . "y/n" ? he called out as he made his way to the bathroom. d-don't come in here ! you cried out . you whined come off .. bucky heard you whine and said y/n whats wrong i can hear it in your voice your upset what won't come off doll ? . clint said are you decent ? what happened ? . bucky said im coming in doll i can hear your heart racing. you looked up at bucky as he walked in , he looked confused as hell . he spoke gently "y/n whats wrong did you drink to much ? your eyes ive never seen your pupils this large . clint cautiously walks in and turns off the shower and looks at your eyes " why are you bathing in your clothes ? you look like you are on drugs . you studder out "h-he i-is h-here i-in n-new York " bucky says quietly "the only time she ever studders is when she is scared" clint nods and grabs a towel and hands it to bucky. he says softly im going to go make some lavender tea to help her calm down and sober up . he leaves the room and shuts the door back . bucky says doll we need to get you into some dry clothes . you suddenly hug him tightly and start sobbing . bucky holds you for a few minutes before softly saying you may not remember the night we escaped but you killed every person in the building except me ... but if you remember its ok to tell me . after several minutes bucky pulls you away from him and starts drying you off, as he pulls off your jacket he notices the red rash like spots on your throat and what seems to be scrape marks and the same marks are on your wrists where they look like they have been held . y/n what is this he says as he drys your hair. you studder out t-the m-mean man who h-hurt you. he whispers no thats not possible his heart wasnt beating i watched him die.." нет" is all you respond . bucky quickly scoops you up and carries you to your bed he quickly grabs some of your clothes and finishes drying you off the best he can he says im gonna change your clothes so you don't get sick you already feel feverish. he quickly helps you change into your sleeping clothes ,then he scoops you up again and carries you to the kitchen . clint hands you a cup of hot tea. "so did you have a nice time im glad me or bucky didnt have to come bring you home". you just sit and stare at your tea . bucky looks at you "doll are you ok ?" нет is all you respond . clint tilts your head back "what the hell is this ? did some one attack you ? why does it look like a rash ? you just stare at your cup of tea . clint says sternly "y/n answer me who did this to you let us go kick there ass". bucky says "his name is helmut zemo he was our handler .. but i dont under stand how he is here unless he turned instead of dying." bucky looks to you " is that what happened y/n . fresh tears start to stream down your face . bucky hugs you gently and tries to comfort you . "did he hurt you any where else than right here ?" he touches your throat where the red marks are the worse. you shake your head no, and whisper "i have to keep you safe". you get off the stool and put your tea in the fridge and grab a blood bag and bite into it and drain it. bucky walks over to you and gently tilts your head up and looks in your eyes " скоро рассвет (its about to be dawn) he watches as your eyes drift shut and catches you as you fall. "i hate doing this to her but she already feels feverish i don't want her going back out tonight or worse staying up all night worried about me . he carries you to his room and lays you on the bed and gets a knife to hide under his pillow just incase .

you wake up to find your self in bucky's room his metal arm wrapped around your waist. you were pissed as you remembered what happened. every thing in your stomach and below hurts worse than any peroid you have ever had . you feel hot and cold all the same time. jarvis reminds you that your meds are waiting for you. "james ... let go of me" bucky sits up and sits back from you to give you your space . "im sorry doll" . you look at him " i trusted you ..." you teleport from the room to the med lab so u can take your meds . you whine and bend over holding your stomach when a really bad cramp hits you . bruce says whats going on y/n ? you reply still holding your stomach i dont know i think i may have ate a sick person last night, this is worse than any pms symptoms . bruce says lets get you checked out ill call strange. bucky walks in and says whats wrong with her why is she holding her stomach? bruce says i dont know strange will probably know but i have to call him first . you stand up and say "no im fine it was just a cramp im going to the book store " bucky says ok ill be down in a minute . clint walks in and says ill come with and bucky can stay here so he dosent have to wear his ear plugs. your Irises turn red as you say he isant going no where with me i dont trust him any more ive never done what he did to me to him. i dont need a baby sitter im immortal. clint says "im comming with because i dont want you getting triggered by zemo" fine you snap at clint you glare at bucky and teleport to the book store with clint . when you arrive you storm off in search of the cook books. clint sighs and shakes his head and goes to find you. he finds you looking at ramen books . "you know ramen would be great for supper why dont we order some so you dont have to cook ?" you smile and keep looking at your book. " i know what your trying to do clint let me get my mind off it and ill be fine . "you know i cant stay mad at him forever im just upset he triggered me thats all. "but i would like a large coffee milk shake from the coffee place and some cinnabon if you wouldnt mind getting me that i would be happy. " clint smiles alright your trying to get rid of me i can take a hint ill be back later with ur snacks .

you nod and put the book back and pick up one from sokovia and start looking through it . zemo walks in a short while after clint left and walks up to you from behind and wraps his arms around you and sets his chin on your shoulder. "i am sorry for my actions last night i was drunk . can we talk ? .you answer softly can you let go of me ?. you hurt me alot last night . zemo lets go and steps back . you turn around too see him . he says im sorry i hurt you. a bad cramp hits you lean against the wall and bend over in pain. he curses in russian. " Draga your heat has started you need to get home before another alpha scents you " you growl and stand up . "im not going any where zemo if some one trys any shit with me i will kill stab them . " he smiles " i see james and i trained you quiet well . " zemo if u wanted to apologize then you've done it and can leave . i dont want your smell on me like it was last night so please leave me be i am still not fond of you ." he chuckles . "draga i meant what i said . but I apologize for how rough i was with you ." you glare at him and go back to the garlic soup recipe you were looking at . you walk over to the stack of books by the wall you plan on getting and set it down. zemo says you cant ignore for forever draga i will have you as mine weather you like it or not even if i have to trigger you.."

[ao3feed-sambucky]

Repeat Until Death

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/91dTLbt by Aethermint "If that tea isn’t laced with bourbon or classified sedatives, I’m not interested.” Mel offered a faint smirk and a flash drive. “No bourbon. But classified intel recieved from our last mission, and also uh... well, it's about the team. You're going to want to sit down for this one.” Val sighed and took the tea, her tone dry. “If this has anything to do with Captain America, time travel, or another Barnes-related disaster, I’m walking into traffic.” She kept walking. Of course she was going to read the file. She always did. But a girl could dream. "It's... all three actually. The New Avengers or uh, The Thunderbolts now I guess, are gone. With Captain America." Jesus Fucking Christ. Ava and the rest of the Thunderbolts deal with domesticity, time travelling shenanigans and villains in the search to find their missing team-mate, Bucky. Even worse, they're stuck in the late 1940s with Sam Wilson. And Steve Rogers isn't having the best time. Peggy Carter isn't either. Words: 2652, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thunderbolts (Movie 2025) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Yelena Belova, Alexei Shostakov, Ava Starr, John Walker (Marvel), Robert "Bob" Reynolds (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Rebecca Barnes Proctor, Helmut Zemo, Kate Bishop, Joaquín Torres (Marvel) Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Yelena Belova & Kate Bishop, Ava Starr & John Walker, Yelena Belova & Robert "Bob" Reynolds Additional Tags: Set in 1940s Brooklyn (Marvel), Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travel, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Protective Steve Rogers, Domestic Thunderbolts Team (Marvel), John Walker Not Being an Asshole (Marvel), Non-Consensual Body Modification, Found Family, Domestic Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson, Soft Bucky Barnes, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Post-Movie: Thunderbolts (2025) read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/91dTLbt

[the-ravening]

Fic: Adopt, Don’t Shop (Winterbaron, A/B/O, Teen Zemo)

Once upon a time, @violenciorp lovingly bullied me and @tales-from-a-maphia-don into writing an A/B/O fic with them. This is the result of that.

Title: Adopt, Don’t Shop

Warnings: Zemo is a teen of unspecified age

Pairing: Helmut Zemo/Bucky Barnes

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10k so far

Tags: Omega Teen Zemo, Alpha Bucky, Slavery (Omegas aren't quite their own people), Bucky bucking expectations, Age difference, Power imbalance, Shower masturbation, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, mentions of piss (no golden showers though), Public nudity, Humiliation, Physical punishment, Use of Omega Prods (colloquially known as Slick Sticks)—kinda like a cattle prod

Summary:

Helmut Birthday: June 16 Age Group: I Gender: Male, Omega Hair Colour: Brown Eye Colour: Brown Height & Weight: 5’ / 85 lbs Helmut is a sweet, docile little Omega that will adjust nicely to any REQUIRE an Alpha with a firm hand. He plays well in small groups tends to be a little bossy. NOT RECOMMENDED FOR HAREM INTEGRATION. Recently presented, Helmut enjoyed an extensive education before he was surrendered to the Omega Kennel. Fun Fact: Very sensitive to physical stimulation! Go on and try to make him moan by poking him gently!

Read on AO3!

[illicien]

Third Time's the Charm by Illicien (Foxglove_Fiction)

Fandoms: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe  

Explicit

Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

M/M

Work in Progress

Tags

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

James "Bucky" Barnes/Helmut Zemo

James "Bucky" Barnes

Helmut Zemo

Sam Wilson (Marvel)

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

Heats and Ruts

Breeding Kink

No mpreg

Omega Helmut Zemo

Alpha Bucky Barnes

Protective Bucky Barnes

medication withdrawal

Dirty Talking Bucky Barnes

Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary

When an absence of Zemo for their infiltration missions results in injuries, Bucky puts his foot down and makes it clear that they do actually need his help and whatever's keeping the man locked up in the RAFT needs to be dealt with. Of course, that means it's time for him to make some serious changes, and figure out how to explain his feelings - and what they are to begin with.

Series

Part 3 of Counting On It

Language: English Words: 6,201 Chapters: 1/5

[ao3feed-steggy]

Repeat Until Death

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/BRvdTPG by Aethermint "If that tea isn’t laced with bourbon or classified sedatives, I’m not interested.” Mel offered a faint smirk and a flash drive. “No bourbon. But classified intel recieved from our last mission, and also uh... well, it's about the team. You're going to want to sit down for this one.” Val sighed and took the tea, her tone dry. “If this has anything to do with Captain America, time travel, or another Barnes-related disaster, I’m walking into traffic.” She kept walking. Of course she was going to read the file. She always did. But a girl could dream. "It's... all three actually. The New Avengers or uh, The Thunderbolts now I guess, are gone. With Captain America." Jesus Fucking Christ. Ava and the rest of the Thunderbolts deal with domesticity, time travelling shenanigans and villains in the search to find their missing team-mate, Bucky. Even worse, they're stuck in the late 1940s with Sam Wilson. And Steve Rogers isn't having the best time. Peggy Carter isn't either. Words: 2652, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thunderbolts (Movie 2025) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Yelena Belova, Alexei Shostakov, Ava Starr, John Walker (Marvel), Robert "Bob" Reynolds (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Rebecca Barnes Proctor, Helmut Zemo, Kate Bishop, Joaquín Torres (Marvel) Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Yelena Belova & Kate Bishop, Ava Starr & John Walker, Yelena Belova & Robert "Bob" Reynolds Additional Tags: Set in 1940s Brooklyn (Marvel), Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travel, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Protective Steve Rogers, Domestic Thunderbolts Team (Marvel), John Walker Not Being an Asshole (Marvel), Non-Consensual Body Modification, Found Family, Domestic Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson, Soft Bucky Barnes, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Post-Movie: Thunderbolts (2025) read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/BRvdTPG