#from here on zemo pays no attention to this conversation

[wintereyed]

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 32

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 3,853

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: GET LOW

You have to keep your priorities straight. There's a group of terrorist super soldiers running around while the serum to create them is apparently being created in the worst possible place for it, Madripoor. You only agreed to this mission to solve that problem; nothing else should be on your mind nor of your concern. The sooner you fix things, the sooner you can return home where you somewhat wish you would've stayed to begin with.

Despite your bitter and anxious mood, you keep strictly to your assigned character during negotiations. Standing behind Zemo with hands kept clasped in front of yourself, you pay close attention to every word said not because you care for the conversation itself, but so that you can be prepared if anything goes wrong.

As scripted, you only move when Zemo offers to 'trade' the Winter Soldier to Selby in exchange for information, at which point you briefly hold up a book for her to see containing the supposed code words (none that are accurate, as you made sure to confirm before even entering Madripoor).

Earlier when this part of the plan had been explained to you, you were hesitant, yet now you find yourself caring a little less, a petty side of you almost wanting to actually leave him here with this lunatic crime-lord since she seems perfectly willing to take him off your hands. It's not like you plan to ever come back to Madripoor anyway, so he'd never have to worry about seeing you again; a total win for him.

The good news is you get a lead from Selby: a man named Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the one making super soldier serum. The bad news? She refuses to say where you can find him, not even willingly to mention if he's in Madripoor. The worst news? Sam forgot one of the biggest rules to undercover missions: turning off your damn phone.

It's at this point that your facades begin to unravel like a cat's favorite ball of yarn. Based on the way Sam looks around the room nervously, you can tell it isn't a scam call or wrong number, yet there's nothing any of you can do for him once Selby demands he answer it on speaker phone. Despite his desperate attempts to maintain his role as Smiling Tiger, the woman on the other end doesn't get the hint, stubbornly remaining on line until delivering the final blow by referring to him by name.

"'Sam'? Who's 'Sam'?" Selby becomes enraged immediately, "Kill them -!"

Almost as soon as those words left her mouth, a bullet came crashing through the window, hitting Selby from behind and causing her to fall limp onto the ground. From there, you're only allowed a brief moment of surprise before a fight ensues.

Thankfully unlike the bar downstairs where there would've been a gun pointing at you from every direction, there are only two armed guards in this private room who are slow to react. Bucky and Sam easily knock them out while taking their guns for themselves which is enough of a threat for everyone else to flee without causing any further trouble, although that doesn't necessarily save any of you from this new situation you've landed yourselves in.

"We have a real problem now," Zemo complains, yet his behavior comes across as being no more inconvenienced than he would be if someone spit in his tea, "Leave your weapons and follow my lead."

You wish you could be as calm, too - which is the first and only time you'll be jealous of Zemo for something. Sure, you can act calm, but to truly be it is another talent. It doesn't matter how straight your expression is nor how casual you try to walk while still being swift on your feet; you feel like a deer walking through a shooting range the second you step onto the streets, senses heightened as you wait for any sign of danger directed your way.

You don't have to wait long. The lights of the street suddenly flash off, leaving you blinded by darkness soon disrupted by a flurry of gunshots aimed at your group. It's complete chaos after that. There’s no uniformed or planned attack like what you're used to. It's a city of criminals governed by no leadership or morals, only their own selfish interests in mind.

There's gunshots to your left and gunshots to your right. People screaming as they run for cover, people shouting as they chase after you through the many streets and allies. Now, you haven't been to the gym in months - Alright, maybe years, but practiced exercise is nothing compared to pure adrenaline. The mere thought of your life being on the line as motorcycles roar somewhere close by serves as the perfect motivator for your legs to keep moving, chasing directly behind Bucky who likely has no idea where he's going, but anywhere is better than stopping to ask for directions.

Your pace only slows when coming around another corner, at which point you foolishly duck upon hearing two more gunshots fired from somewhere ahead. When you don't feel the force of any bullets ripping through your body, you turn around to see the motorcycle drivers both hunched over lifeless.

“Well, this is too perfect,” A voice comes as a woman steps out of the foggy darkness, only removing a hand from her gun briefly to pull down her hood which reveals her face to the rest of you. If it weren’t for your excellent memory, you likely would’ve had a harder time recognizing her as Sharon Carter, someone you’ve only met once and under far different circumstances, but she’s an ally nonetheless.

This would be the point where you sigh if not for still trying to catch your breath and steady your nerves.

You're grateful for the opportunity to finally switch out of this stupid disguise you've been forced to wear all night and pleased to see Sharon has offered quite the selection of new outfits to choose from, although most look far too fancy for your taste, particularly the ones drenched in glitter. Not wanting to look like a walking disco ball, you pick something comfortable yet pretty and, most importantly, suitable for action since you highly doubt your game of dodging bullets is over just yet.

Glancing around to check on everyone else, you notice they all seem to be doing their own thing. Sam's trying to find his own change of clothes from the rack, Zemo's currently helping himself to Sharon's alcohol collection, and Bucky has simply plopped down on the couch with back turned to the rest of you (brooding, as you would assume).

"Is there someplace I can change?" You ask Sharon once she returns. She tosses her coat onto the couch next to Bucky and spares you a quick look as she passes by.

"What? Can't change here?" While her tone may have been teasing, that smirk on her face makes you question if she's truly joking, however you certainly aren't.

You'll confess that you've changed in the same room as Bucky before, however you'd also argue that the circumstances were very different then. To him, you had been roommates for so long that it didn't seem like a big deal to switch shirts or sleep in only boxers in your presence. To you...Well, you've always known that you had both done a little more than simply 'change' in front of each other in the 40s, so why be embarrassed about your roommate-once--fiancé catching a sneak peek?

The point is, while you're comfortable around Bucky, that doesn't apply to anyone else in this room. Sam's a friend you barely know, Sharon's a person you don't know, and Zemo's a liability you'd have to strangle if he so much as thought of saying anything remotely inappropriate.

"I'd rather have privacy."

Sharon rolls her eyes with a scoffed laugh, "Sorry, I didn't think you'd mind. You've never seemed that shy around men before."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Your voice alone warns her to answer carefully as does your irked expression, yet she still turns away from you with a careless shrug.

"It's just that you come across as someone who likes attention, that's all. What, with you going from Rogers, Barnes, Stark then Barnes again; you sure get around, but hey, props to you for having fun with your life, I guess."

"You know there's this thing called 'friends', right?" Sam interjects, unable to himself. He knows you all desperately need Sharon's help in finding Dr. Nagel, but he has trouble biting back the offense he takes on your behalf from her unwarranted comments.

For better or for worse, she isn't fazed by Sam's disapproval, instead responding sarcastically to it, "Really? Never heard of it."

"Like that isn't obvious," You roll your eyes then land them on Bucky who unlike Sam doesn't bother to show an ounce of concern for how Sharon's treating you, his back remaining completely turned to the problem.

Although his silence has been bothering you this whole time, you must say it especially stings right now. You understand that he's mad, but so much so that he isn't even willingly to say a single word in your defense? That he's just going to sit there and let her basically call you a whore? He knows the truth, all he has to do is say it. Who cares if it actually shuts Sharon up? At least he'd look like a decent gentleman by attempting to protect your honor instead of a total asshole wordlessly supporting her point!

Looking back at Sharon, you match her crossed arms and pair them with a disinterested stare, "I know you're bitter and shit about Steve leaving you for your aunt, but that doesn't involve me, so if you're that desperate to lift your ego, I suggest picking up a hobby or - better yet - moving on instead of pissing me off which I will only warn you once is a dangerous game to play.

"I'm sure you'll be pleased to know Barnes and I - we're nothing; not even friends. The sole reason why I'm right now is because Sam, a friend, asked nicely and I, for one, don't want anyone dragging the name of super soldiers through the mud; personally, I don't think Steve's legacy deserves that. Now is there somewhere I can change or not?"

Despite the bite behind your words, Sharon appears more impressed than offended or sorry as she nods her head towards the hallway, "There's a bathroom down the hall, three doors to your right."

"...Thanks," You brush past her with your clothes in hand, more convinced than ever that you'll never step foot in Madripoor again after this even if the rest of the world were to be on fire.

Seconds after you disappear through the glass doors, Bucky turns to send a glare Sharon's way, "What the hell was that?"

"What? ...Oh, come on! Did I really hit that deep of a nerve? I thought for Avengers, you'd all have thicker skin," Sharon's attempt at innocence crumbles under Bucky and Sam's intense glares, yet she merely sighs in frustration before going to pour herself a glass of alcohol over where Zemo's been watching the whole scene unfold while sipping his brandy in amusement.

"I highly doubt I'm the only one who finds it a little suspicious that someone who stuck their neck out for the Winter Soldier and Captain America was entirely forgiven when rich boy Tony Stark cried out in their favor only to conveniently fall right back into their former lover's arms after his death. I mean, last I saw they were practically your little lap dog seven years ago and honestly, I can't say it seems much has changed once Stark got out of the way."

Sharon finishes her little rant by collapsing on the opposite side of the couch as Bucky who shakes his head in disbelief, "Wow, you're kind of awful now, aren't you?"

"Look, Sharon. I'm sorry for everything that happened. I'm sorry no one ever called -" Sam starts.

"- You make it sound like it was just a missed date or something -"

"- I know that it seems like (Y/n) got off easy compared to the crap you've had to put up with after helping us, but it's not their fault how things ended. Stark was there to stand up for them while no one was there for you, so don't blame them, blame me. I should've called, but after the Blip, it was chaos and I -"

"- Oh, save your breath," Sharon shakes her head, looking back at Sam from over the edge of the couch, "...You know all this hero stuff is just bullshit, right? Deep down, you know it's all hypocrisy and that's why you gave up the shield."

"He knows, just not that deep down," Zemo asserts from the corner of the room, however Sam himself can't seem to say anything, only able to remain quiet while wishing he had your talent for snapping back. He wants to say something to disprove Sharon's allegations, yet he instead hands her the win with his silence, allowing her to go back to finishing her drink just in time for you to return, clearly still irritated and too much so to question whether the dim energy of this room is from your past conversation or a new one.

"Alright, so what's the plan? How are we finding this Dr. Nagel, hmm?" You get right to business, not even bothering to act cheerful or excited as you normally would; your will to do so for everyone else's sake is officially run dry.

"Are you guys still sure you want to get involved in this?" For once, Sharon doesn't show much confidence, in fact you would even say she sounds genuinely concerned as she sets her empty glass on the table, "For your own safety, I'd recommend that you don't. Nagel works for the Power Broker who, might I remind you, you're already in deep shit against after what happened with Selby."

"Free range super soldiers being produced under the management of a criminal empire? Yeah, for the safety of the world, I'd say backing down isn't really an option here," You argue, half surprised Sharon doesn't have some smartass comment to swing back at you which proves that while she might be a pain to deal with, she at least isn't stupid.

"To do this we need your help, Sharon. We can get your name cleared -" Sam adds.

"- Heh. Haggling with my life now, are we?"

"Not like that -"

"- Mmm, I don't buy it - you pretending to clear my name as your bargaining chip?"

"I can try," Sam walks around the couch, standing in front of Sharon with a hand outstretched towards her, "It's not impossible, after all, they already cleared the name of a bionic staring machine after he killed almost everyone he met -"

"- I heard that -"

"- I don't trust charity."

"It's not really 'charity'," You sit on an armchair and shrug when Sharon's glances around Sam at you, "Charity is the act of voluntary giving. We're not just 'giving' you anything, we're offering an exchange. You help us find Nagel, Sam here gets your name cleared. Can't be that hard. The government's views change like a flip of a dime. Catch 'em at a desperate time of need and they'll be more willing to pardon you for your help in the cause."

"...Nice to see someone here admits to seeing the hypocrisy of it all," Sharon inhales and exhales deeply, her words causing you to raise an eyebrow in confusion after having missed the context to them earlier. Nevertheless, it doesn't matter as she finally shakes Sam's hand and stands to her feet, "I sell to some pretty connected people, so just lay low, stay out of trouble, and enjoy the party while I see what I can do."

You're not a fan of crowds, but at least this suffocating party beats being cornered in a bar full of hostile, armed patrons. Here everything is more laid back, similar to any noncriminal run club. The music is blaring, lights flashing, and ground vibrating as guests dance to their hearts' content. All you have to do now is just look like you're equally enjoying yourself for a few hours which is significantly easier than your previous role as 'silent assistant'.

Leaned against a wall, your laughter becomes comparable to the booming of the bass and is contagious within the group of party goers standing around you. You just gotta keep this up - keep engaging in a few more conversations, tell a couple of funny jokes while downing a drink or two along the way, and soon that annoying, nagging voice inside your head will finally go mute, allowing you to sink deeper and deeper into your game of intoxicating pretend.

"Hey -!" You're suddenly pulled away from your new group of friends when Bucky grabs your arm, quite literally tugging your attention from them to him. While he's technically successful, you're hardly amused, immediately ripping your arm away from him with a glare and another swig of your drink.

"- What?"

Bucky, who was going to say something else, becomes distracted when his eyes flicker down to your half-empty bottle, "...Don't you think you've had enough?"

You huff, bringing the bottle back up to your lips while maintaining your glare, "I'm not going to get drunk if that's what you're worried about. I'm able to handle my liquor quite well, thank you very much. It's in my blood, after all."

Bucky sighs, half tempted to rip that bottle away from your stubborn hand, however he refrains from the urge.

"...Have you heard anything from Sharon yet?" Your question echoes within the glass as you survey the active party around you both.

"No. Last I heard, she's still talking to her 'connections'."

"Well hopefullyshe starts speeding things up. It's been a long enough night already," You'd blame it on exhaustion fogging up your mind, but in truth, it's probably the relief from Bucky's finally talking to you which seems to take some weight off of your shoulders, allowing you to relax and speak more freely in his presences - to be more like yourself unlike how you've been behaving around those other party goers...however you shouldn't have been so trusting to this feeling.

"Then you should go rest."

"Not until we find Nagel."

Bucky pauses, not even looking at you as he just stares at some other far off place in the room, "...I think you should stay here while we go talk to Nagel ourselves."

"There's no point in that," You sigh, "I came here to help you guys, not stand on the sidelines."

"It wasn't a suggestion."

"What?" You return your glare to him once more.

"It's not necessary for all of us to go. We don't need five people -"

"- Does my presence add that much to the equation? Three people is fine, but four's a crowd? In that case, why not have Sharon stay behind? She's the tag-along...Or is it just me?"

"It...It has nothing to do with you, okay? I just think -" Bullshit. He acts as if your accusation is nothing short of ridiculous yet never looks directly at you longer than an impatient glance. It is you.

"- Here's an idea: how about you just pretend I'm not there, yeah?" You put your free hand on your hip, feeling your blood begin to boil the more his words sink into your skin, "I mean, that's what you've been doing this whole time and you seem to have gotten pretty damn good at it, I'd say, so I doubt it'll kill you to do for a few extra hours."

Bucky inhales deeply while pinching the bridge of his nose, "...Look, we've already run into trouble and barely got out of it just searching for Nagel. Actually talking to him is going to be dangerous."

"Alright? And your point is?"

"You're at the most risk out of all of us. You don't have any formal training, you don't have any powers. Just - Come on and be reasonable. You'll only get yourself hurt -!"

"'Be reasonable'?" You can't help but laugh with a shake of your head, "I am being reasonable! In case you've forgotten, I protected your ass for two whole years and helped the Avengers fight Thanos twice! That's not even mentioning the shit I went through against HYDRA, either! For fucks sake, I've been shot at before, so training or not, the fear of dying isn't new for me!"

Your fury falters and you immediately regret your choice of words once noticing Bucky's reaction to them. Almost as soon as they're said, his expression becomes shattered and mournful, and a part of you instantly feels terrible seeing that, yet at the same time, your lingering anger - still fueled by your inner, unresolved pain - prevents you from outright apologizing.

"...You're a liability if you go..."

You grip your bottle, almost wishing it would just shatter in your hands to emphasize what you're feeling right now. Maybe then you'd have an excuse to cry in front of so many people - people who would definitely raise eyebrows if you were to completely lash out right now and confront Bucky with every swirling thought that's been burning hotter on your tongue following each drop of alcohol: 'What am I doing wrong? Why are you treating me like this? How come you don't love me anymore? Can't you see that it's drowning me?

You take a deep breath, calming yourself down a little before opening your eyes to look back up at Bucky with a false smile, "...You know what? Suuure. I'll stay behind. Whatever makes you happy, you fucking asshole!"

After spitting those final venomous words, you shove pass him roughly and storm off into the crowd, no longer caring if anyone heard your little 'lover's quarrel', as they probably all see it as. You have no idea where you're going or what you'll even do in the meantime, but Sharon's house seems big enough, so you're sure you'll have no problem finding someplace quiet to soak in all your self-pity.

Bucky almost calls after you, requiring every ounce of willpower not to chase you and give an apology, but what would that actually accomplish if he did? 'Sorry I hurt your feelings, but I'm still not changing my mind because I stand by what I said'...As if that would fix anything.

Maybe this is for the best, at least that's what he tries to convince himself throughout each second that his guilt eats away at him. For the price of hurting you, you won't be in danger if things go south talking to Nagel. Perhaps you'll even want to go home after this and you'll never have to be at risk because of any of this stuff again. Sure, you'll hate him as you probably do now, but if that's what it takes for you to be alive, then it's worth it.

...It'll be worth this heartache, won't it?

NEXT CHAPTER ->

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Taglist:

@arunabrak,

[therenlover]

One Last Night In Madripoor (An 18+ Helmut Zemo/Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: Baron Helmut Zemo is a lonely, wanted man looking for some fun, you’re a piss-poor bounty hunter in search of a connection before leaving your life of crime behind, and fate has brought you together at a party the likes of which has never been seen before. You only have one night left in Madripoor, so why not take a chance?

Tags: Smut, SoftDom!Zemo, Hook Up, Semi-Public Sex, Drinking, Safe Sex, Explicit Consent, First Meeting, Wall Sex, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Swearing, Explicit Sexual Content

Word Count: 4200~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

---------

Madripoor was a place like nothing you had ever seen.

It wasn’t that the sights were anything special. You could find seedy criminal underbellies lined with neon where the streets ran red with blood anywhere if you looked hard enough. Even the ocean view didn’t do much to set it apart from any other place visually. No, Madripoor’s scenery and architecture weren’t what kept your eyes wide with wonder whenever you found yourself wandering through the winding back-alleys without a purpose. It was the people that kept you around.

Thieves, pirates, and miscreants had been taking shelter at the docks since before anyone there could remember. It was a city borne of the underbelly of society, the people nobody sees, but you saw them. You saw them every day when you stood in the main market waiting for an easy bounty. There were faces everywhere; big and small, tall and short, scarred and flawless. No two people in the streets of Madripoor were ever exactly alike. If you needed to remember someone, their unique face was right there waiting in your mind.

After living on the island for almost 6 months, most people were already cataloged neatly in your mind as friend or foe. This man, though, he was new. He was different.

The night was still young. There was some trouble at the Princess Bar that ended with Selby dead and a few murderers loose in the streets with a price on their heads, but you steered clear. Going after the killers meant going up against hundreds if not thousands of trained bounty hunters and assassins and no amount of money was worth dying over now, not while you were so close to freedom. Instead of chasing your doom, you decided to head to your room, get dressed up, and head out to wherever the music was loudest in search of a place to forget about your problems for the night. The thudding sounds of poorly DJ-ed club remixes led you to Leonardo’s Place. That’s where you found him.

You were two drinks in and sticking close to the wall when he stumbled into your line of sight. What initially caught your eye was his dancing. He couldn’t move for shit. What kept your attention, though, was his face.

There was transience to him, like at any moment someone could bump into him and he would disappear without a trace at their touch. Despite that he was gaudy. Everything about his clothing screamed wealth and fine taste from the thread count of his obnoxious purple turtleneck to the shine on his boots. He was strange, a walking contradiction, and one who had never had the pleasure of gracing your presence or screwing you over in the past. In the simplest of terms, he intrigued you. With nothing left to lose you downed the last of your cocktail and made your way to the gap in the crowd where the stranger had staked his claim. It was game time.

“You come here alone?” You asked. Your voice was barely a whisper above the heavy thrumming of the music.

He gave you a long look up and down before answering as if he were trying to size you up. Something about having his gaze linger on your body made your heartbeat soar. “I’m not looking for company,” His accented tone was gruff but left a sliver of room for reconsideration. You took the chance. What could go wrong?

With as much tact and grace as you could muster you let yourself slip a little closer to him. “What, do I look too expensive for you?” you teased, before backing off with a grin, “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m not here for that. My job is a little more… dangerous.” As you danced, the hem of your dress rode up your thigh just enough to reveal the knife holster in your garter belt. It pleased you greatly to see this handsome stranger do a double-take; that meant he was looking at your upper thigh in the first place. “I just liked what I saw in you… do you like what you see in me?”

Somehow, your little joke had endeared him to you, however minutely. Instead of brushing you off the man paused his jerky dancing for a moment to really take you in. Then, he caved. “Would you like a drink?” He asked.

You smirked. “Who would I be if I turned down a free drink from a handsome stranger,”

He met you in the middle as he offered you his hand. “I never promised it would be free,”

So, the two of you found yourselves at the bar, bodies leaned into each other and away from the rest of the sweltering crowd as the bartender slid you your order. The stranger was drinking a brandy straight while you opted for a sidecar. It was enough alcohol that you were starting to feel pretty buzzed, but you still felt in full control of yourself. You took a long sip before speaking. “So, what should I call you?”

It took him a moment to respond but once he did, he seemed sure of himself. “You can call me Helmut, but Baron is fine as well,”

You cocked up an eyebrow. “Is that a nickname?”

“More of a title,”

He took a drink as you gawked. “Like royalty?”

“Not like. I am,”

Your cheeks flushed. The rational part of your mind was so stunned by the ease with which Helmut lied that it seemed to short circuit completely, leaving you very puzzled and more than a little intrigued. “Well, pardon me, Mr. Baron. What’s royalty like you doing in a place like this?”

“There are plenty of reasons a man like me would have business here. A woman as beautiful as you, though… not so much,” he waved his hand in loose gestures as he spoke, “Why risk your life and beauty for this? A life living in the underground where you cannot so much as dream of seeing the stars?”

You finished your drink in one large swig. It burned down your throat but you relished in the pain. “Not all of us are lucky enough to be born in a place where we can see the stars. Funny enough, though, I’m just about to get out,”

“Is that right?”

“I finally saved up enough money from small jobs to buy my way out from under the Power Broker’s thumb,” Something about the way Helmut smiled at you made you feel safe. It was like you could tell him your worst, darkest secrets and not feel an ounce of fear or guilt. “I’m nothing special here, a small-time bounty hunter, and I kept it that way for a reason. I’m not valuable and I don’t know much. If I just pay my dues and keep the money coming until I can get their claws out of my back, I should be free to leave with a freighter tomorrow morning,”

Helmut was quick to respond. “Ah, travel by freighter. It’s terribly dangerous to be a stowaway, you know? Impossible to predict quite what the seas will be like,”

“Well, that’s just a risk I’ll have to take to get out of here and stop… what was it that you said I was doing? Risking my life and beauty?”

The two of you chuckled as Helmut took one last drink to empty his glass. Then, the conversation stilled. Around you people were alive, gyrating to the music as their pulses thumped to the beat, but it was like they weren’t even there. Instead, your whole being was focused on the strange man in front of you who had stolen away your sensibilities with his cool tone and thick accent. He made you feel alive. No, more than alive. Every color was brighter, every sound was sharper, every sip of your drink was crisper. He was a once-in-a-lifetime man, and this was a once-in-a-lifetime night. Oh, to hell with it!

“I like you, Baron,” you purred, pressing yourself close to him. His breath hitched the moment you touched him. He acted as if it had been a very long time since he was last touched like that. “And I think you like me too. In fact, I think you like me enough that we should take this conversation somewhere a little more private. What do you say?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his gloved hand made its way around your wrist, and in a moment’s time, he was pulling you across the crowded dance floor towards a small, secluded hallway. You assumed that meant yes.

The instant you made it to the shelter of the shadows Helmut was on you like a man starved. One of his hands was quick to explore the skin just above the hem of your dress as the other pressed against the wall, caging you in and holding you as a more than willing hostage to his affections. He didn’t kiss your face, and you weren’t complaining about that, but he did put his mouth to good use sucking a dark bruise into your collarbone. His ministrations only stopped when a high, keening sound escaped your lips.

“You like that, don’t you, meine kleine schlampe?” he growled through gritted teeth. Something about his tone turned your already weak legs to jelly. The second you went limp in his grip, though, he pulled back. Straightening himself out, he offered you a steadying arm. You took it without hesitation. “I’m terribly sorry to be so rude. I assure you that I am not usually the type of man to hook up with someone on a whim, I’ve simply been… indisposed for many years and haven’t had many opportunities for pleasure, especially not with a woman as beautiful as you,”

His compliment was enough to have you blushing like a schoolgirl. You had killed more people than you could reasonably count, and probably fucked even more, but something about the way Helmut looked and sounded and acted made you feel almost innocent to his advances. He was a drug and you needed to get your fix before he disappeared forever.

“Does that mean you think I’m special?” You asked, all doe eyes with an innocent smile. Helmut ate it right up.

“Yes, schatzi. Very special,”

You hitched a leg up, letting your heel dig into his expensive dress pants and drag him closer to you once again. “First your little slut and now your little treasure? Which one is it, Helmut?”

“And so smart,”

“Move, Baron!”

At your insistence, Helmut was on you once again, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses down your neck as he fiddled with his gloves, yanking them off and shoving them in his back pocket before he continued. “So demanding,” he chided, and yet he continued to lavish you with affection, his hand climbing higher and higher up your thigh. Your back was pressed flush to the wall now, and you were painfully aware of just how warm Helmut was. He smelled like a rich man’s cologne and yet his skin tasted of cheap soap when you leaned in to give him a bruise of his own.

“You love it,” you replied. He let out a husky laugh.

“I suppose I do,” he chuckled, and then his fingers brushed over your core. Your knees buckled. Helmut kept you upright with his body as he continued to taunt you through your underwear, but he seemed more confident now, almost cocky. “My needy schatzi, have you no patience?”

Your response was breathless; a confession.

“Not with you,”

Something about your words lit a fire in Helmut’s eyes. In an instant he had your leg hiked up while he ground his hardened length against your clothed wetness. Your mind went blank. He felt big. A mindless whimper fell from your lips.

“How do you want me?” Helmut asked. As he spoke he ran a light finger down your elevated thigh. You offered up another whimper. “I’ll need you to use your words and tell me what you want or I can’t give it to you,” His tone had you wet enough that you worried you were dripping.

With a gulp, you managed to fumble out the words. “I’ll blow you first if you promise to fuck me,”

That had him grinning like a wolf. “Perhaps you are my little schlampe, so eager to get down on your knees for me…” And you were. Even on shaky legs, you found yourself happily falling to your knees as the Baron fumbled with his fly. It was only then that you found yourself gazing down the hall towards the cacophony of lights and sounds and people maybe 20 feet away from your hiding place in the shadows. As if he could sense your discomfort, Helmut paused. “Are you alright?”

You nodded quickly. “I just forgot we were out in the open for a second,”

“Do you want to stop? If the location is the problem, I would gladly pause so we can find a new hideaway,” he stopped short, looking down and meeting your heavily lidded gaze, “or perhaps the idea of putting on a show excites you?” Your heart jumped out of your chest. Helmut noticed. “Well, if my little schlampe is so keen on putting on a show, she should get a move on,”

That was your cue to get to work. In a swift motion, you finished unzipping his fly and shifted his boxers, letting his lovely cock spring free. It was a pleasant penis and far as they went, average in length but thick with a leaking purple tip at half-mast. Just looking at it made you clamp your legs together.

Slowly, you gave a tentative lick up the underside of his length. He felt heavy on your tongue in the best of ways. Helmut jerked upward, a man possessed. You couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s been a long time, huh?”

“Less talking, more working little schlam-” you cut Helmut off quickly by taking most of his length into his mouth. That seemed to shut him up. His wolf-like grin had dissolved into a slack-jawed mess the second you started to suck him off. Oh, this was going to be fun.

For the most part, the Baron let you set the pace, bobbing your head and taking as much of his length as you comfortably could, but after a short while his hands were buried in your hair as he fought the urge to buck into your throat, hard. With a particularly rough snap of his hips, Helmut pulled away.

“You are an angel from heaven, schatzi,” he groaned, pulling himself slowly from your mouth as you got your first good deep breath in a while, “but a deal is a deal, and it wouldn’t be quite fair if I got to have all the fun, now would it?” Your breath hitched in your throat. Finally time for the main event.

Helmut was surprisingly gentle with you as he offered you a hand and helped you back up, only pausing to wipe a line of dribble off your chin with his thumb. With anyone else, it would have felt wholly humiliating but with Helmut… well, it did things to you you would rather not admit. You quirked up an eyebrow, though, when he got on his knees in turn, mirroring your past position. “What are you doing, Baron?”

“I simply assumed my sweet schatzi would enjoy a reward for taking my cock so well,” his words had you biting your lip as your cheeks flushed, “now be a good girl and take what I give you. I want to hear those pretty noises you made earlier,” With that, his face disappeared under your skirt. He pulled down your panties and… snickered?

“What now?” you groaned, squirming as his hot breath hit your exposed nub.

“You’re sopping wet,” he replied. Out of habit, you moved to shut your legs but found Helmut’s large hand was holding them open. “I do enjoy being sandwiched between your thighs, but you shouldn’t hide yourself from me. Take your pleasure. You’ve earned it,” That was when he began his assault on your folds.

You had been with plenty of partners over the years, all with varying proficiencies when it came to giving pleasure, but no one had ever made you feel quite as good as Helmut did while you gripped his hair and rode his face with reckless abandon. He always hit just the right spot, alternating between sucking on your sensitive clit and running his rough tongue in sloppy circles against it. In no time flat your pleasure was building toward’s its peak as your knees trembled.

“Helmut,” you squeaked, “Helmut I’m gonna cuuuUUOH!”

You were suddenly thrown over the edge of pleasure as the Baron worked you open with his fingers, pressing that spot inside of you just right. It was a revelation. Nothing would ever compare to him and you hadn’t even fucked yet. Once you had regained some semblance of stability he emerged from his place between your thighs, face slick with your juices, wearing the expression of a cat that got the cream.

“You make such lovely sounds for me, schatzi,” Helmut groaned, rising from his place at your feet and reaching into his pocket. While he fumbled for a condom you took the time to actually remove your panties, lifting one shaky leg at a time before balling them up and tossing them on the ground. You could grab them later. Or not! In all honesty, your ruined undies were the last thing on your mind as your watched Helmut roll the condom onto his proud cock, pumping himself a few times. “Now, are you sure you want this?”

You had never felt more sober in your whole life despite the drinks you’d downed earlier.

“God, yes,”

“Wonderful,”

He caged you into his body once again, lining himself up on your slick folds, and then with a pronounced bite against your collarbone, he was entering you. It wasn’t painful or uncomfortable, you just felt full, like a missing piece of your body had been completed. For the first few thrusts, you were too blissed out to really take note of anything around you, but once you tuned back into the world of the living you realized Helmut was talking. Well, babbling was more like it. He seemed to simply be speaking his stream of consciousness into your ear as he pistoned in and out of you like a madman. There was a jilted rhythm to it, but the abnormality kept you on your toes.

“I won’t be letting you go any time soon, schatzi, and definitely not on some dank freighter like a rat from the gutters. No, you will travel with me. Once I help my friends and slip away from the front lines I can take you anywhere your little heart desires. Paris, Vienna, Australia… Mein Gott, what a sweet cunt,”

Any sane woman, after hearing his sex-drunken musings, would have run. They would have heard the wild ramblings of a madman and left after their little fling was done to never see him again. It was only rational. He didn’t even know your real name. Sane women didn’t run away with strangers claiming to be barons they hooked up with in a seedy club selling stolen Van Goghs in a hub of the criminal underworld.

The only thing was, though, that you weren’t a sane woman.

You were a killer, a child left in the streets to live or die who had scraped themselves together and dragged themselves towards life. So what if the idea of some rich mysterious benefactor with a good dick coming in to save the day sounded fantastic? It was fantastic. Like your own personal version of Pretty Woman. Even if he wasn’t as rich as he claimed to be, being poor and getting dicked down by him was better than being poor and alone.

For just a moment, and with no regrets, you let yourself get lost in the fantasy and just let go.

It was as if Helmut could sense a difference.

“Are you close, little schlampe?” He gasped, letting his thrusts take on a faster staccato rhythm.

You could do little more than moan and nod as he pounded you into the wall. That seemed to be enough for him to get the message, though.

“What a good girl,” he purred. His mouth was so close to your ear, his hot breath tickling the sensitive flesh with each heaving breath he took. As he chased his own climax, he brought a hand between your bodies and rubbed tight, wet circles around your clit. It was already sensitive, your body was only barely recovering from your first orgasm, and yet something about the overstimulation was thrilling, like racing towards an impossible dream. With a shout, you came for the second time, melting into Baron Helmut’s arms as he quickly followed.

The two of you stayed there, slumped against the cool wall and still connected by your dripping sexes, for a few moments, breathing heavy. Surprisingly, you were the first to speak.

“Wow,” you breathed, letting a soft laugh escape your lips.

Helmut returned the sentiment. “You were wonderful,” In a strange moment of intimacy, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, but then he pulled out, tying off the full condom and tossing it to the ground as he tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped up his fly.

“Are you just gonna leave that there?” you made a gesture towards his litter.

“They have janitors,”

A burbling laugh escaped from your lips. “That they do,”

Back in the main room of the party, the crowd had only grown larger as the night progressed. Nobody had seen you, nor had they noticed your cries as they danced and drank and made merry under the neon lights. You were, for all intents and purposes, invisible at Helmut’s side. Within and without. There was something exhilarating about knowing he was the only one that truly saw you in a room packed with hundreds. It was like something out of a twisted fairytale.

“So…” you broached the subject gently while you pulled down your dress to protect your modesty, “Did you mean what you said back there about Paris and Vienna, or…”

“Oh, you heard that?”

You snickered. “It was pretty hard not to with you breathing in my ear,”

“I apologize,” he leaned against the wall beside you, shoulder to shoulder in the darkness, “but yes, I meant what I said. I-”

Suddenly, from down the hall, a booming voice interrupted your moment.

“There you are!”

“Goddamnit, Zemo, I thought we told you to stay low not hire an escort,”

There, at the mouth of the hallway, stood two massive men. They were obviously displeased, and though their faces were obscured by the lights you could tell you weren’t the one they were after.

They called him Zemo… where had you heard that name before?

Helmut stepped away from the wall with a shrug. “At least I didn’t cause a scene by forgetting to put my phone on silent,”

The larger of the two men stayed where he was, while the other walked to meet the Baron in the middle.

“I swear to God, man, you’ve gotten ten times more insufferable since I learned you were rich.

The Baron shrugged. “It comes with the territory,”

“But you don’t have to be such a jackass about it,”

You felt it was a good time to chime in.

“Thank you so much for that, Helmut, but I think I should give you guys some privacy,” you said, straightening out your dress and walking deeper into the hallway. There had to be an exit somewhere…

“Wait!” When you turned, you found Helmut rushing to meet you. The men in the background looked shocked and almost smug. “Save your money. Meet me out at the airstrip tomorrow afternoon if you feel like seeing me again. If not, know that the Power Broker doesn’t let go of assets cheap, and you just slept with a man with a million dollar bounty, so buying your freedom isn’t an option. If you want to go without me, you’ll have to hitch a ride on a cargo ship but not as a stowaway. Working for your keep is the best way to stay under the radar. Nobody can touch you once you’r-”

You cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips. “I’ll see you at your private jet, Baron,”

He smirked. “So you will,” With as much gusto as a man could muster, he returned to his companions but not before offering one last goodbye. “Farewell, schatzi, until tomorrow,”

As you leaned up against the wall once more, you watched them go with a twinkle in your eye.

“Who was that?”

“None of your business, James,”

“Guys, what the hell did I just step on?”

“I believe that was my used rubber,”

“ZEMO!”

-------

a/n: I hope you enjoyed the filth! I haven’t written for Zemo before, even though I’ve loved him for years, but he’s definitely going into my main rotation now. If you have any ideas, send them my way! I’d love to fill the void, because there just aren’t very many Zemo x reader fics out there. If you enjoyed this, maybe reblog or leave a comment! I’d love to hear your thoughts. Thanks again!

Please do not post my works to any other sites, thanks! <3

[cjsinkythoughts]

Right From Left

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3085

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo being a punk, Bucky getting a little scary, some feelings, Sam being his fantastic, amazing, caring for everyone self

A/N: Here it is! At long last! I’ve been waiting for this episode and it was…holy fuck. I barely have words. And I can’t start or else I’ll be ranting for pages. Anyways, I know this Part is a little on the shorter side - not by much, but it still is - and it doesn’t even cover half the episode, but I’ve had a long day and I’m tired, so I’m going to sleep. I wanted to stop before Walker entered the picture too, because then I’m just gonna get more riled up and I’m working later. I’ll probably have another part out today, and then I’ll finish it tomorrow. Unless I can finish it today. I’ll try, but no promises.

Feel free to rant to me about the episode or the show, too, guys! My friends and I have been going back and forth about it for the past few hours. I’d love to hear your thoughts! I think that’s all for now.

As always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you for reading, be kind to yourself and others, enjoy this part and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

!SPOILERS BELOW CUT!

You were avoiding him.

When you first got to Latvia, he had pulled you aside, eyes wide and pleading. “Doll, listen-”

“I really don’t think right now is the time to have the discussion we’re about to have.” Shaking your head, you avoided his gaze, your stomach twisting into knots. It was too much for you to handle; you couldn’t focus on the mission at hand and try to unravel the emotions that were making your gut flip like a gymnast. There were too many thoughts in your head, and you needed a clear mind.

“But-”

“Once this is all done, and our lives aren’t in danger. Once we’re back home, then we can talk, okay? Just…please. Not here. Not now.”

And he dropped it. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk about it. You just couldn’t. You had always been a ‘leave your baggage at the door’ type of person. Don’t mix work with personal. Not like you had much “personal” anyways when you first decided that was how it should be. And then your coworkers became family and your motto got a lot harder to follow. But you still followed it. And you would continue to follow it.

But that made you start avoiding him. Whether you meant to or not, everyone noticed, but no one said anything. Sam shot you a look when you didn’t offer to go with Bucky when he had to check something out. Zemo raised an eyebrow when he came back and, instead of immediately questioning him, you sat still on the couch, eyes glancing up briefly, before going back to playing with the strings of your hoodie.

You were paying attention to their conversation, especially when Karli Morgenthau was brought up, you just didn’t join in. Not even when Zemo mentioned the Avengers, eyeing you to see your reaction.

Honestly, you were tired, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Your shoulder hurt, your brain couldn’t process what the guys were talking about, and your heart couldn’t take any more hits.

It was something you’d been thinking about…you just thought it’d come after this mission.

“She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her…or she kills you.”

“Maybe you’re wrong Zemo. The Serum never corrupted Steve.”

For the first time since he first walked in, your eyes met Bucky’s. “Touche.” Zemo pointed at Bucky with a pastry around his finger. “But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?”

But you couldn’t wait until after this mission. Not when he was so connected to it. “I think I’m gonna go home.” You blurted out before Zemo and Bucky could argue further, Bucky slumping down onto the opposite side of the couch.

The moment the words left your lips, Sam and Bucky shot up, staring at you in disbelief.

“Wait, hold up. What? Now? We’re so close-”

“Why? Is it your arm? Is it hurting? You should’ve told us-”

“I’m just tired.” You cut in, shaking your head. “That’s all. I didn’t expect this to be drawn out this long when you called, Sammy.”

Bucky’s hand twitched as he hesitatingly scooted closer to you. “Doll, if this is because what happened on the jet-”

“It’s not, Buck.” You tried to give him a convincing smile, but you knew by the look in his eyes that he didn’t buy it for one second. You reached over to squeeze his hand, and when you pulled back, he held on tighter, a sigh escaping his lips as he stared down at your linked hands.

“Okay…if you wanna go home, we can get you home. Just…” His head turned back to you, a pleading pout on his features. “Just…stay. Another day. Please. You can keep avoiding me, I won’t even say another word to you if you don’t want. But stay. Just for one more day.”

Chewing on your cheek, you finally nodded slightly. “Okay. One more day.”

His eyes lit up, before his face fell again when you took your hand back and curled into the corner of the couch. “Let’s talk shop, boys.”

“Okay. So, from my understanding, Donya is like a pillar of the community, right?” Sam easily changed the topic back to the situation at hand, giving you a reassuring wink when you smiled at him gratefully. “So when I was a kid, my Tee Tee passed away.”

Bucky screwed his face up in confusion, straightening his head from where he had it leaned back. “Your - your Tee Tee?”

Sam gave him a look. “Yeah. My-my Tee Tee, yeah.”

Bucky looked at him weirdly. “Who is your Tee Tee?”

The exchange made you giggle a little bit, shaking your head. “Bucky’s a city boy from the 40’s, remember, Sammy?”

“Fine.” Sam rolled his eyes. “When I was a kid my aunt passed away.”

Bucky gave a slight huff, making you chuckle again. You stopped when he smiled over at you, but your grin didn’t leave your face. Even when they were the ones to give you a headache, your fellas were damn entertaining, that’s for sure.

With a sort-of plan in place - the gathering for Donya being no more than a theory, but the only idea you really had - you stretched out from your spot on the couch, twisting to crack your back. “Zemo.” The man stopped his rummaging through the cabinets and looked over his shoulder at you, an eyebrow raised. “Go put some clothes on. We’ve got work to do.”

He gave you an unimpressed look, opening his mouth, but Sam beat him to the punch. “Do as the lady says, man. You’re already walking on a tightrope after you shot Nagel!” Zemo waved dismissively at Sam’s exclamation, heading into a separate room to change out of his robe. “That guy is gonna drive me up the wall.”

“Don’t let him get to that pretty head of yours, Sammy.” You hummed, standing up, wincing slightly as you stretched your sore shoulder over your head.

You could tell Bucky wanted to say something, the way he snapped forwards, hands moving down his thigh like he was leaning over to reach for you, his eyes locked on your injured joint, but, just as he said earlier, he didn’t say a word. But the part that made you upset was…you didn’t stop him. You didn’t tell him it was okay for him to talk to you. You didn’t reassure him that you weren’t purposely trying to avoid him. You simply moved over to the kitchen to get something to drink.

It hurt worse than your shoulder, but you couldn’t handle it. Not then. Not with such an important part of the mission coming up. So you didn’t say anything. You just sipped your water, switching into tactic mode as your mind ran through the scenarios of what could possibly go down in the next 24 hours before you went home.

*************************

Walking under the arch, you couldn’t help but feel saddened as Zemo told you about what the courtyard used to look like. Thanos messed the world up so much more than you realized and, as much as you hated to admit it, the Avengers did have a part in it. Not that they - you - were in the wrong, necessarily. You truly believed you did what anyone in that situation, with the skills and abilities and knowledge the team had, would do what you did. Or tried to do.

“I’m gonna take a look around upstairs.” Sam stated, looking up at the upper stories of the building, before glancing at Bucky. “See what you can find out here. And keep an eye on him.”

“I’ll come with you.” You said, turning on your heel to follow Sam. The back of Bucky’s gloved hand brushed against yours, and instinctually you turned your palm to link your fingers and squeezing. You let go quickly once you realized what you were doing, nearly tripping up the stairs to get to Sam, not daring to wait for Bucky’s reaction.

“You’re an idiot.” He stated simply as soon as you met him at the top of the stairs.

“Can we focus on finding Donya right now, please?” You grumbled, moving forwards cautiously, peeking around the corner. You frowned when you saw two guys at the end of the hallway, looking back at you and Sam warily.

“You need to hear what he has to say, cher.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “I know I do. I know. But I can’t. Not right now. I’m just trying to get this over with first. I don’t want too many things on my plate. I might choke.” It already felt like you were drowning most nights.

He paused at your words, giving you a once over, before nodding. “Okay. I can respect that.”

“Thank you.” You told him earnestly. “Now let’s try to get something from these people.”

He nodded in agreement and you two continued forwards with your search. Room after room, people walked out before you could get anything from them, locking doors behind them. The Flag Smashers logo was everywhere, but you expected nothing less from a refugee camp that practically worshipped what they were doing.

Even when you did get a guy to talk to you, he immediately shut you down, leaving you and Sam dejected. The fact that the world had gotten so bad that these people couldn’t trust you and Sam - Avengers; people who used to be heroes and bring hope to others - it made your heart sink.

“C’mon, Y/N.”

“Are we wrong?”

He froze at your question, his lips pressing together. “About what, exactly?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…I guess I can’t tell right from left anymore. I always assumed that the Avengers were the good guys. That the actions we’ve taken in the past were us making the world a better place, but…Sokovia and Ultron. Germany and the whole civil war thing we had going on. The entire world and Thanos. We don’t truly ever win. Do we?”

“I can’t answer that for you.” Sam shook his head. “I can’t tell you what to believe or who to believe in. But I can tell you that we’ve made a difference. Steve, Nat, Tony…they made a difference.”

“But was it a good difference? Was it a change? There’s a difference between changing the world and just making it different, Sam.”

He blinked at you, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. And I don’t have that answer for you either. But they tried. They did what they thought was right. No matter if it was or not. And isn’t that all we can do? Try?”

His words made you think back to the conversation you had with Bucky once he learned about John Walker, which seemed so long ago. When you told him it wasn’t Sam’s fault. That he was just trying. That he did what he thought was right. 

And maybe he was wrong. But he made a decision. It was his decision. To do the right thing. And right then, not for the first time, you could see exactly what Steve saw in the man in front of you.

“You’re a good man, Sam.”

Sam grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulders and squeezing. “And you’re an incredible person, Y/N. Let’s go see if Bucky and the Baron got anything.”

You snickered at his mocking tone towards Zemo and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

*****************************

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like it one bit. So far, Zemo kept proving you wrong. Even when it seemed like he was about to jump ship, he came back. No matter how many opportunities he had to escape, he never did. And it was making you even more suspicious.

You stayed out of Bucky and Sam’s conversation, although you had to agree with Sam’s point, especially with the conversation you just had.

Your thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute, only to be interrupted by Zemo information about the funeral this afternoon. Guess a snake will always be a snake.

“And you, uh, didn’t think this was important information?” You questioned, eyes narrowed and brow pinched.

He shrugged. “You have it now, don’t you, princess?”

Bucky growled at the nickname, leaning back on the couch, threatening Zemo with the Dora Milaje.

You can’t remember a time you’ve ever been scared of Bucky. Maybe a little threatened and intimidated by the Winter Soldier, but never scared of Bucky. And when he stood up after Zemo mentioned leverage, you didn’t expect anything from it; maybe another choke hold or something. So the glass hitting the wall, the clench in his jaw as he spoke gruffly to the Baron, for a mere second, he kind of frightened you. Maybe it was all the emotions you’d been through the past few weeks or maybe it was the adrenaline that seemed to be pulsing through your veins 24/7 nowadays. Whatever it was, it made you flinch, bolting up as Sam did.

You left the room quickly, hearing Sam say something about making a call, hoping to calm your racing heart.

“Doll?” You sat up from the bed you were laying on, legs hanging off the edge. Bucky stood in the doorway, nervously shifting his feet. “I know I said I’d leave you alone, but…”

You gave the bed a pat next to you and he gladly accepted the invitation, padding over to sit besides you. “I don’t want you to leave me alone, Buck. You’re my best friend. I-I just need to take it one thing at a time right now.”

He nodded. “I get it. I wasn’t…I wasn’t coming in to talk to you about that. You said we’ll talk about it later, so we’ll talk about it later.”

“I appreciate that, Bucky.” You smiled at him, before frowning. “What did you wanna talk about then? Are you okay?”

“Did I…did I scare you?”

You blinked at his question, tilting your head. “What?”

Jerking his head to the doorway he explained, “just then. With Zemo. Your heart spiked.”

“No.” You answered immediately. You would never ever admit that he kind of did scare you. It was just for a second and you knew how his brain worked; he’d beat himself up over it, go over his actions for hours instead of getting the rest he so desperately needs and deserves. He didn’t need that on his conscience right now. “I wasn’t - I just…you startled me. I wasn’t expecting that reaction-”

“I didn’t like the way he talked to you.” He spat out, glaring at his hands in his lap. “And then the smug bastard thought he was gonna get away with holding back information like that and I just…I dunno.”

His hand came off his thigh, but he hesitated. Before he could put it down again, you slipped your hand under his, linking your fingers, running your thumb in circles against his palm. “Don’t let him get to you, Buck. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

A sigh left his lips and he nodded. “I know, I know. It’s just…hard. After everything he put me through - put us through - I…I just hate that he’s really our only option.”

You frowned, shifting on the bed to face him, one leg bending beneath you while the other still hung over. “Why are you so obsessed with catching these guys?”

“I wanna do something right.” He murmured, playing with your fingers. “I’ve done so much wrong…I just wanna do something right. And I feel...responsible for it, I guess. In a way. It’s Super Soldier Serum. I thought I was the only one after Steve…” He froze at the blonde’s mention, giving you a side-eyed glance. You nudged him, silently telling him to continue, that it was okay to talk about him. “And Sam’s right, you know. She’s just a kid. So…I dunno. I wanna help. I wanna do something right. And catching them would help. It’s right. Right?”

You nodded firmly. “I understand where they’re coming from. Karli’s just trying to help the world. But she’s doing it wrong. And that I know for absolute certainty. Which is good, I guess. I was talking to Sam early and I mentioned not knowing my right from my left recently. It’s good I know something, huh? And for you it should be easy telling your right from your left.” You joked, tracing the gold lines on his metal arm. “I guess you’re just gonna have to stay besides me to help me remember.”

Looking up, you found Bucky staring at you with something you recognized in his eyes, but didn’t want to name. “Three hours, forty two minutes and thirty one seconds.”

“What?”

“That’s how long I didn’t talk to you. It was too long.”

You sighed, ducking your head. “Bucky, I’m sorry-”

“I’m sorry. For anything and everything I’ve ever done wrong. I won’t mention the plane or anything we’ve talked about until you bring it up first. I promise. Just…just don’t ignore me anymore? I'm not sure I can handle it for much longer.”

You nodded, watching your fingertips dance along his scruffy jaw. “I won’t.” He caught your wrist, opening his mouth, before shaking his head and closing it. “What?”

He shook his head again. “Not until you bring it up.”

“We will talk, James. I promise.”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it. I really do. It’s okay. As long as we’re okay for right now, I can hold it in a bit longer.”

You nearly asked him what he was holding in, but you quickly shoved the question out of your mind, knowing it would take you down a conversation you couldn’t possibly have right then. “How long do you think we have?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Zemo just said that it’s this afternoon. Why?”

“I started reading The Great Gatsby on the plane. I’ve got it on my phone. It kinda reminds me of you. Do you-do you think we have time to read some? Only if you want, I mean. Like we used to do in Wakanda?”

He grinned and nodded, scooting up on the bed and flopping down into the pillows. You smiled back, following his lead. Once you were comfortable, your phone out with the chapter you were on, Bucky scooted closer, laying his head on your stomach, hugging your waist. 

“Is this okay?”

Your fingers found home in his hair and you nodded when he looked up at you for an answer. “Yeah. It’s perfect, Buckaroo.”

[oh-ranpo]

stay, don’t go.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader warnings: angsty angst an: I don’t know, I just wrote it lmao word count: 2.4k+

“And if he was wrong about you, he was wrong about me!”

You kept hearing those words replaying over and over in your head. You knew that he had been upset about Sam giving up the shield, but you were surprised at how you hadn’t seen these particular emotions coming. There were a lot of things that Bucky worried about, but this burden of a thought broke your heart even more than usual. It was the most transparent he had been in months, and you hadn’t even been the one he was opening up to. Not that it mattered all that much, but now, you were struggling to find a way to help with the newly re-opened wound.

After the therapy session with Sam, Bucky had withdrawn into himself even more. Even though you had been waiting right outside the door, it was almost as if he didn’t see you at all when he walked through it. You had reached for his hand, and he had let you take his, but he didn’t say a word to you. 

He’s had a rough day, you had told yourself. Getting arrested on top of everything else he was dealing with had to be a lot. He just needed some time to process it all. 

Only, now, it was five hours later and he still hadn’t said a thing. You managed to get some hums in response to your prompting, and a shrug here and there, but no actual words fell from his lips. The anger from earlier in the day had dissipated, and now his shoulders drooped as he seemed to be carrying the world on his shoulders. Not that this was anything new to you either. It was a look you had long grown used to, but after hearing his outburst at therapy, you had a better idea than usual as to what was causing his pain this time.

Bucky had taken a spot in one of the chairs in the corner of your shared hotel room, and his blue eyes were fixed on the wall in front of him as he seemed to be attempting to stare a hole through it. You could practically hear the gears in his head turning, and you were sure that if you could read his thoughts, you wouldn’t be able to handle the emotional turmoil that lay inside. When you couldn’t get him to talk, you decided to order some food - something that you knew he liked - and then sat down in the chair next to him. 

“Food should be here soon,” you told him, as if he couldn’t hear you placing the delivery order just five minutes prior from the other side of the room. This time, Bucky didn’t even bother acknowledging what you had said as his hand came up to rest under his chin. He was still staring at the same spot on the wall, and his eyes were squinting slightly as he seemed to be deep in thought.

You sighed as you glanced down at your watch and saw that it was getting later in the evening, and you wondered what Sam was up to. The three of you had parted ways after the police station, and Sam had barely said anything to you or Bucky when you left. You could make out some of their conversation through the door during therapy, but really the only part you had heard clearly were Bucky’s words. And it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the ‘he’ Bucky had been referring to was Steve. This was what his whole trip had been about in the first place.

You knew that you couldn’t go the whole night without addressing the elephant in the room, but you also knew how Bucky was when it came to opening up. Even with you. You knew that, besides Sam, you were one of the only people that he trusted since Steve passed away, and you didn’t take that lightly. You really only pressed when you knew that it would be good for him to talk about something, and this was one of those times.

“Bucky?” You started again, using his name this time in an attempt to draw his attention away from the wall. He didn’t look over at you at first, but slowly, as you waited patiently, they started to trail over in your direction. When his eyes finally met yours, you gave him a small, sad smile as you leaned against the arm of the chair closest to him. “About what you said to Sam today…” 

You didn’t get a chance to finish your thought before Bucky was swiftly moving out of his seat. The movement caught you by surprise, as he had seemed so relaxed - well, as relaxed as he could be given the situation - but now he was running his hands through his hair as he started pacing in circles.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” he mumbled, as his hand ran over his face, and his other gloved hand shoved into the pockets of his jeans. Slowly, you stood up from your own chair and made your way over to him, your hand reaching out for the sleeve of his jacket before he harshly pulled it out of your grasp. 

His entire reaction was confusing you because usually, he just shut down. He didn’t get this visibly worked up, he just shut down and refused to give you any emotion or feedback on how he was feeling. Now, you could tell that he was upset, and from the look on his face, he knew that his expression and actions were giving him away.

“But you know you should,” you continued as you tried to reach for him again, this time more slowly. “Let me be there for you, Buck.” The second part of your statement came out at nearly a whisper, but it had been loud enough he had heard you and he started shaking his head.

“You shouldn’t have to. I’m- I’m fine. I just need to go-“ Now, he had started moving towards the hotel door, and you felt your heart start to race in your chest. He was trying to leave.

“Wait, no, don’t go!” You cried, as you rushed to stop him, and Bucky’s hand hesitated over the doorknob. “Please. Stay. Talk to me.” You hated how broken your words sounded, but after everything that had taken place over the last few months, you couldn’t bear the thought of him walking out of that door and leaving you alone. Hesitantly, Bucky looked back over his shoulder at you, and you could see that same, decades-old pain swimming in his light blue irises.

“You’d be better off if I did. I’m doing nothing for you here.” Earlier, when you thought the comment about Steve was the most painful thing you had heard him say, this was a close second. You shook your head firmly as you took another step closer to him, and instead of reaching for the door knob fully, Bucky allowed his hand to fall back down to his side.

“No, Bucky, I wouldn’t be better off. I lived five years without you. Five years of never knowing if you were going to come back. I’ve known a life without you, and that is something I never want to have to experience again.”

Bucky’s shoulders deflated at your words, and you could see a flash of something in his expression that gave you a sliver of hope. You knew how he felt about you, and you knew that, deep down, he was well aware of how you felt about him. That was a secret you never tried to keep from him, and the one thing he never tried to hide from you either. 

After he didn’t move any closer to the door, and he didn’t respond to your words either, you slowly reached out for him once more, but this time, he didn’t pull away. You took ahold of his gloved hand and moved closer to him. The pain and conflict was still present in his expression, but as you lifted your other hand to cup his cheek, you hoped that maybe you would be able to find a way to bring him some comfort.

“Come sit back down with me, please,” you whispered, and for a moment, he didn’t move. You knew that if he really wanted to leave, you would have to let him, but your heart started to crack at the mere thought. Thankfully, after another heavy moment of silence, Bucky nodded and allowed you to lead him back to the end of the bed. You didn’t drop his hand, and when the two of you sat down next to one another, you sat close enough so that your leg was pressed up against his. 

“I know you said you don’t want to talk about it, but I heard what you said to Sam today. About Steve,” you murmured, your gaze falling to where your hands were entwined and resting on his thigh. “And Bucky, you know that isn’t true, right? Steve… he thought the world of you. He would have, and did, do anything for you. He knew you, Buck, just as I do, and he saw the heart that you have and knew that you were worth every bit of it.”

When you looked up, you could see the tears swimming in his eyes as he tried to hold them back. Steve had always been a sensitive subject, and you knew that, but you also knew that what you said was true. You had known Steve, and you had seen and heard the way he felt about his best friend. Before he was Captain America, Bucky had always been there for him, and after he was Captain America, he was there to return the favor without hesitation. He never held Bucky’s Hydra days against him because he knew, just as you did, that he had no control over that. He was a victim; a pawn in a much bigger game than he ever could have won on his own. He was still paying for it, even after all this time. You just hoped that someday he’d find a way to forgive himself.

“I just don’t know sometimes,” Bucky managed to choke out after another heavy silence. “I mean, I’m trying, but the nightmares and the constant reminders of what I did…” His voice trailed off as he fixed his eyes on the window across the room in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. You knew that he hated crying in front of anyone, despite you having told him numerous times that he didn’t have to hide that part of himself from you.

“That wasn’t you, at least, not really,” you replied. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes, White Wolf.” This time you nudged him in the shoulder with your own and he cracked half a smile as his eyes flickered back over to you. “The Winter Soldier was not you. And before you try to argue with me, I’ve seen him and I’ve seen you, and I can tell you that he is nowhere near the same guy as the one that’s sitting right here next to me.”

Bucky cringed at the reminder that you had been forced to bear witness to his time as The Winter Soldier when Zemo had activated him a few years before the blip. He had spent months apologizing, despite not having done anything to you, and you cursed yourself for bringing it up again. 

“I mean, the metal arm is the only thing you guys have in common, and on the Bucky I know… it’s actually kind of sexy.” You added the last part lightly, and when Bucky looked over at you again, you waggled your eyebrows playfully. He just shook his head as the corners of his lips turned up just a bit, before his gaze fell to his lap. The hand you were holding now was the metal one, and you followed his gaze as you released your hold on it before slowly slipping his glove off. He flexed the metal appendages as soon as the glove was gone, and you reached for it as your fingers traced over the cool metal.

“It’s a curse,” he mumbled, his eyes still locked on where it was resting in his lap. “I mean, Shuri was nice enough to make it better than the old one but…” 

You shook your head as you grabbed it before lifting it to your lips and pressing a small kiss to the back of it.

“It’s not a curse, it’s a part of you. And because of that, I love it. Just like I love you.”

Bucky inhaled sharply at those three little words, even though you had been saying them practically non-stop since he had returned. You had said it before he was gone too, but you knew, back then, that he didn’t believe it. 

“I do love you, Bucky. So please… don’t leave.” 

For a moment, you could tell that Bucky had almost completely forgotten about how he had been about to walk out. It was a gift that you possessed that he had never truly understood. Even though you were talking about his problems, it didn’t feel nearly as bad as it did when he talked about his problems with anyone else. Not that he opened up enough to anyone else to really do much good. 

“I couldn’t leave,” he murmured as your eyes lifted to meet his. “You’re the only one that makes me feel… well, anything.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest as that was practically him saying he loved you too, and you couldn’t help but smile. 

“And thank you,” he continued. “For what you said.” You nodded in response as you leaned against his shoulder, his metal hand falling to your thigh as you wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“I’m always here for you to talk to, you know that? Though, you do need to talk to Sam too. He’s going through a hard time just like you are, and he needs his friends to be there with him too.” 

Slowly, Bucky nodded, but before either of you could continue, there was a knock on the hotel room door, and you were reminded of the take-out order that you had placed earlier.

“You hungry?” You asked with another smile as you stood up from the end of the bed and moved towards the door.

“I could eat,” you heard him respond, and you chuckled as you pulled open the door to grab your food. 

Things were far from perfect, but every day the two of you took baby steps towards healing together. And really, you couldn’t ask for much more than that. 

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Zemo Fic Teaser (Soft Target)

U want sum fic?

Edit: You did it! First chapter here!

Not technically reader x Zemo but so close they could kiss.

There isn’t much of Zemo in this first scene, but this is a slow-burn ZemoxOc. He gets in a lot of things later, I promise.

She’d been having a good day. She’d been having such a good day. It had been such a wonderful, uplifting, hopeful sort of afternoon, she didn’t immediately think the worst when Sam Wilson and James Barnes appeared at the bar. Sam had his friendly face on, the slightly strained one he wore when they first met. It probably meant trouble, but she was behind the bar – and she really had been enjoying her day – so her bartender smile lit up on instinct. Barnes looked less comfortable, his big expressive mouth warring with a frown, and she decided to take the initiative and assume the burden of breaking the ice.

“Would you like an old fashioned?” she asked him, leaning down on her elbows with a shit eating grin. “Or an old fashioned?”

He rolled his eyes, but while the tension lingered in his shoulders, the frown stopped yanking at his face. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” She looked between the two men, surprised to see them together but still expecting something good from the universe.

She should’ve known better.

“It’s good to see you again,” Sam said. A polite opener.

And probably bullshit. While the smile stayed on her face, her optimism cracked. Familiar doubt and disappointment leaked through the gaps, happy to drown her good mood. It had yet to fail entirely, but she knew. If it was good to see her, he would’ve made some kind of effort before this. If he was really seeking a friendship of some kind, he wouldn’t begin by trying to establish they already had one.

Sam pressed ahead, unaware he’d lost the edge in the coming fight. “We need your help.”

“I’m at work.”

She’d been practicing for moments like this, learning how to say no. This would test her mettle though. Sam was good at what he did, and he talked people into and out of trouble as part of his job.

“Sorry.” And he actually sounded like he meant it. “But we only have your work address.”

Her smile turned Midwestern – flat and polite, nearly apologetic. “I gave you my cell number, though. What’s so important you had to ambush me at my job?”

She took the opportunity to start making the old fashioned she’d promised. Whether or not either of them drank it was nothing to her. Well. That wasn’t true. Her professional pride would be hurt if they didn’t enjoy it.

Her two coworkers started sending her looks. A few customers tried getting her attention beside and behind the two men. Whether she caved or not, this conversation needed to be put on hold.

“Look,” she nodded to the back corner, where a gaggle of grad students had just evacuated a booth. “I’ll talk to you on my break. Seriously. I’m at work.”

She slid the old fashioned to Barnes across the bar, and he caught it through instinct rather than attention. “On the house. Go away. Sit. Stay. Whatever.”

To his credit, Sam followed her order. A polite nod, and he disengaged. Barnes hesitated with a question on his lips, eyes moving between his friend and the girl at the bar, but in the end, he followed Sam with his own nod as he retreated. At least he took the damn drink.

She lifted her fingers to her face, briefly exploring the frown she’d grown. When did that get there? Fuck. She’d been having such a good day.

A third man joined Steve’s old friends in the booth – he looked like money, and she disliked him on principle. The tips men like him offered rarely compensated for the aggravation. More than one asshole tried paying his way out getting bounced after groping the staff, or breaking furniture, or asking a bartender to run an errand. She wondered what the three men had in common, what brought them to her place of work without a call.

Her mood continued to sour.

Bottles, shakers, and spoons moved through her hands in a glittering parade as drink after drink came together for thirsty strangers and regulars crowding the old wooden bar. A professional smile masked the churning frustration, proof of her charade gathering in the tip jar.

Six months. Why did they have to ruin one of her good days? She had plenty of bad ones; she might even enjoy the distraction on one of those.

An hour ticked by, and customers started going home. It was a weeknight. Some people had places to be in the morning, though enough lingered to justify keeping the doors open, and night owls and tourists kept trickling in from establishments down the street.

She kept glancing towards the booth, where the three men sat in sullen silence punctuated with arguments muted by distance and the low thrum of music from the bar’s overhead speakers. It looked like an old married couple fighting – too stuck in habit and necessity to split, but too far from the honeymoon to care for the relationship.

They looked back, sometimes, and she always turned away first. She didn’t need a staring contest to assert herself here. She was a bartender. She was behind the bar. A mere glance towards the bouncer would send them packing. They’d wait to talk until she’d done her time and ensured she had rent covered for the month.

And then a new asshole joined the party.

He came in like a man on a mission, which was never a great start. Bros with the muscles and haircut he sported came to bars to relax, play the pick-up artist, or pick a fight – and he didn’t look like he wanted to relax. His march led him straight to the bar when his initial sweep of the place failed to deliver… whatever he was looking for. As he approached, she couldn’t help noting the recessed booth where her three unwanted guests lurked wasn’t visible from the door. She’d sent them there because it was out of the way. Was that decision about to bite her?

The big man – all buzz cut and undersized t-shirt – grabbed her arm as she reached to retrieve an empty glass. She froze. Her thoughts had a counterpoint, and it was loud.

Angry and afraid: her feelings.

Angry and looking to hurt someone: his feelings.

A few faces flickered through his surface thoughts, and she recognized them all. He’d followed Steve’s friends and the man with them through Manhattan, despite obvious efforts to throw a tail.

Well. At least they’d tried.

“You should really let go of my arm,” she said, softly, like a firm suggestion.

That amused him, and his thoughts went very dark. He wondered what sounds she’d make if he crushed her arm in his fist, what sounds she’d make if he broke her apart in other ways.

Retrieving the glass with her free hand, she subtly signaled Jack, the bouncer, and tucked the dirty dish in the bin under behind the bar. The hand flexed on her arm, and she brought up a fresh glass as Jack made his way across the room, and she began pouring her favorite overproof rum.

The man’s head was a mess, and she caught glimpses of lots of things she’d rather not see along with things that may be useful in solving this mess as his attention fluttered. She wouldn’t be the first girl behind a bar he’d hurt. Too bad he couldn’t go to the Clover anymore. So close to base and all – Maybe after they took care of the snooping problem he could –

“Hey.” Jack put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Time to go, pal.”

She returned the rum to its place and slipped her hand back under the counter. She felt bad for Jack, but she needed the distraction.

The stranger – well, not a stranger to her anymore – backhanded the bouncer hard enough to send him flying the length of the bar. Patrons jumped up, shouting, as some ran for the exit and some looked for an excuse to join the fight.

While he watched his target crash through a table, she whipped out the sturdy pairing knife she used for lemons and limes, and drove it clean through her assailant’s wrist and into the bar. The pain surprised him. It wasn’t great secondhand, either, sparking across the connection, but he released his grip, and she pressed her attack. Both hands free, she hurled the glass of rum in his face, and as he instinctively tried wiping it out of his eyes with his free hand, she thumbed the wheel of the bar’s lighter. She snarled, hurling it after the alcohol. The instant the open flame touched his soaked shirt, it burst into flames. He howled, flailing to put out the fire dancing over his chest, arms, face.

A metal arm swung from behind, into the side of his skull. The crack echoed as two more big men with bad haircuts kicked through the very open and innocent door. They looked pissed.

Sam vaulted over the bar, the third wheel from the booth slipping under the bar hatch as Bucky hurled the – still flaming – assailant towards the new threats.

“We need to go,” Sam shouted. He didn’t touch her, but his arms hovered in a vaguely protective fashion, herding her towards the back door.

She didn’t need to be told twice. By the time Bucky swung across the bar top to join them, she’d pushed through to the little hallway that led to the employee bathrooms, breakroom, and back entrance. She didn’t have to stop as she yanked her purse and coat from the hook on the wall, suddenly glad for the bar’s poor security for personal effects. Her bag was more backpack than purse. It hung heavy with all the things she needed most, including her laptop and a change of clothes. Just in case, she’d always told herself. Just in case, for whatever reason, you have to run.

Her paranoia had paid off, and she hated it.

Smoggy spring air full of car exhaust and the tempting smells of the Italian restaurant across the alley welcomed them into the world outside the bar. She gulped it in, wondering if this was a particular flavor she’d cringe over again the wee hours of the morning. No. Of course not. Someone thought she’d be useful, and another chapter of her life closed.

As the men piled out behind her, she turned to Sam, arms half-raised at her sides, asking as much with her body as her words what happened next.

“Looks like I’m involved,” she said. “Where are we going?”

The third man took point, politely gesturing towards the north end of the alley even as he stepped forward to guide them. “The car is this way.”

As she let herself be pulled along in the tide of trouble crashing around the three men, dimly aware of how useless it would be to say no, she could only – desperately – remember: it had been such a good day.

[hardlyinteresting]

Risks Worth Taking 1/2

Professor!Zemo x Student reader Part 2 here The reader takes Zemo's philosophy class focusing on Machiavelli. Slow burn. Will be posted in 2 parts because it exceeds the text block limit. Apx. 4k words. Massive thank you to @scuttle-buttle and @exit-goat for helping beta this <3

Warnings: student-teacher relationship (reader is of age, no real focus on power imbalance), implied age gap, D*vil's advocate student says some pretty misogynistic things (his comments are not tolerated) That's everything I think, let me know if you want me to add something!!

It is far safer to be feared than loved if you cannot be both is what the chalkboard at the front of the lecture hall reads. She sits at the front of the class reading the words repeatedly, mulling them over before the lecture has even begun. Why can one not be both? Why should anyone be feared at all, should we not all just strive to be loved? Questions and disagreements on the topic rattle around her head. Perhaps the professor is trying to strike fear in his students, she thinks.

She’s heard of the professor around campus, heard tales of his unforgiving marking strategies and brooding persona. But, he doesn’t look anything like she had expected. Not old and round and worn out like all the other professors she’s had. He’s at his desk reading through a notebook, brows furrowed in concentration, looking between the pages and the screen of his laptop, he doesn’t acknowledge any of the students as they file in. At exactly 5:00 pm he stands and dims the lights in the hall, leaving only the light at the front of the room where he stands.

“Good evening, I am professor Helmut Zemo. This is Intro to European Philosophy: The Birth of Machiavellianism. From experience I’ll assume none of you have done the readings yet, so we’ll begin this class summarizing--” he continues on but she loses focus instead interested in trying to place his accent.

“It is important that you pay attention,” his voice fades back in and she finds herself sitting up straighter her face warming feeling as though he might be talking to her. “A large majority of what you learn in this class will not be from readings, or from my opinions, but rather from the way you learn to debate and converse with your peers and myself”.

It’s at this point she realizes she’s the only person sitting in the front row, dear god, she thinks, I guess the rest of the class actually heeded the warnings they were given.

With another push of a button behind his desk, the projector screen is rolled down, the last light in the room dimmed too, the course outline now displayed in large Times New Roman.

Week 1: Introduction to “The Prince” Week 2: Chapters 1-5 Conquered free states, with their own laws and orders Week 3: Chapter 6-9 Totally new states Week 4: Chapters 10-13 Strength and Defense Week 5: Chapters 14-15 Reputation of a Prince Mid-term paper due Winter break Week 6: Chapters 16-19 Perception of a Prince Week 7: chapters 20-25 Prudence Week 8: The influence of Machiavellianism through history Spring Break Week 9: Modern applications and interpretations Final Exam

“A more detailed breakdown of the course including due dates for quizzes and essays will be posted on your online learning platform. I will also post the slides for each class the night before, though I do expect you still attend each lecture. My generosity is a courtesy, not a given”.

At least he’s honest she thinks.

“Now, by a show of hands, how many of you are familiar with the prince?” and class begins.

***

It’s the second week of class and she’s 20 minutes early. No one is in the lecture hall so she takes her seat, the same as last week. Professor Zemo wasn’t that scary after all, and besides it’s easier to make notes near the front closer to the light reflecting off the projector. She takes off her coat and settles in, organizing her notebooks and going over the passages of the book she highlighted during her reading again.

“You’re early,” his voice startles her from her thoughts.

“Sorry, I thought it would be okay-- no one was in here so I--” “It’s quite alright,” he interrupts her rambling apologies, “There’s still another fifteen minutes before class starts, you’re welcome to go get coffee like the rest of your classmates”. “No, thank you. If it’s alright, I’m just reviewing my notes”.

He nods. “Any questions?” “Many,” she responds.

He smirks, “good”. And with that, he makes his way to his desk unpacking his shoulder bag.

“If a prince does not destroy a city he may expect to be destroyed by it,” she mumbles beneath her breath as she transcribes her highlighted passages to notes. Her voice is quiet but in the silent room, he hears it clearly.

“You’ve done your reading I see.”

She only nods returning to her work.

“Despite Machiavelli’s beliefs, sometimes, being destroyed isn’t the worst option-- especially if one is expecting it,” he replies.

She considers his point. Maybe it’s the anticipation of destruction rather than the destruction itself that we fear. She’s unable to make her comment before other students start filing in, coffees in hand.

“ Machiavelli said, ‘if an injury is to be done to a man, it should be so severe that the prince is not in fear of revenge’. A bold statement, and perhaps one of his most famous principles that came out of the prince. I’d like to hear your thoughts,” he addresses the class, his accent Sokovian, she’s finally able to place it. She remembers hearing the accent a lot on the news a couple of years back when the country collapsed. “Yes, back row there,” the professor selects a student to share.

“I’d like to play devil's advocate for a second,” the man at the back of the class speaks up, and she can feel her eyes roll, it takes almost everything in her to not comment on it.

“I think he’s right -- Machiavelli. Sometimes to succeed you need to step on some other people on the way up”.

“A common opinion, yes. But must one do so in a way that the other person has no opportunity to succeed themselves?”

“Of course!” the guy at the back of the class laughs, “Some people are meant to succeed, some are meant to fail. Some men are just weak. Is that not just the way life works?”

She bites her tongue, her irritation at the other student growing.

The professor chuckles to himself, leaning on the edge of his desk, arms crossed as he thinks, “I don’t know. Is it?” He looks back over the lecture hall looking for any new hands that may have been raised.

She makes a note Machiavelli was a coward.

“It is true that throughout history many a man has taken it upon himself to cause harm in order to better himself. But, might it be possible that there are more reasonable and more fair ways to succeed? Does it not say more about the weakness of a man who chooses to inflict pain than it does about the people who are subjected to it?” Zemo continues, hoping to raise more discussion.

Another student raises their hand. The professor calls on them. But, she looks up from her notebook to see Zemo looking at her while he listens to the other student’s point. She returns to making her notes.

Machiavelli was a coward.

Is there not much more substance to a person who can succeed without harming their “competition”

If one is so brave, why would they be frightened of the revenge of the person they hurt.

Why act if you are unwilling to face repercussions?

She puts her pen down only for it to roll off the desk. Fuck, that was my favourite pen, she thinks.

Rummaging through her bag she attempts to find another pen. She catches the shadow of his figure out the corner of her eye, the professor placing the dropped pen carefully on top of her open notes.

“Thank you,” she mumbles nearly silently, the other student still speaking. The professor offers a nod and a tight-lipped smile before returning to his desk once more.

After some more mundane commentary from her peers completely misunderstanding the reading, and Professor Zemo trying his best to steer the conversation towards deeper and more productive dialogue, the class comes to an end. She’s finishing putting her coat on again and the professor is putting his things back in his shoulder bag. Her peers have filed out of the room muttering between themselves about how the class is so boring. His voice stops her on the way out of the room,

“You make interesting notes. It would be to the advantage of myself and your peers to hear your intelligent appraisals”.

“You speak as if my peers have an interest in understanding views beyond their own”.

He laughs, slinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder, he makes his way towards the door, the two of them standing in the doorway. “Perhaps not; another astute observation. But, still, should you wish to contribute, your opinions are gladly welcomed ” he smiles, “goodnight”.

Week three; she’s late for class. Her class on the other side of campus ran late, and just her luck it began pouring rain the second she stepped foot outside. She slipped and fell in a puddle, her jeans stained by mud. With 10 minutes left before the start of class, she thought she’d have enough time to clean herself up in the washroom, but the one closest to the lecture hall was closed for cleaning and she was forced to use the one on the second floor. It takes longer than she’d like to try to scrub the dirt on her pants with wet paper towels and even longer to try to dry them off even a little bit under the soft blowing of the hand dryer. When she makes it to class, the professor has already started his slides. She chooses to sit in one of the seats closer to the door rather than front and centre in her usual seat, as not to disrupt the class. The snickers of the idiot boys in the back row don’t go unnoticed by her as she sits down.

She takes a moment to compose herself, focusing on the slide on the projector.

Of Those Who Have Obtained a Principality Through Crimes.

It seems useless to take out her notebook today, the pages probably soaked through with rain. Instead, she finds herself content just listening to Zemo’s summary of the chapter.

“Machiavelli calls upon potential princes to be ruthless in their pursuit for power if they chose to obtain a principality by wickedness. But he focuses on the need for strategizing to strike all at once, rather than hesitate. He speaks of the potential subjects as if they are-- wild animals, as if they are prey,” the professor speaks, “He says that people will forgive cruelty if it is swift and strategic, that a prince may slowly gain favour once the deed is done, but a prince who hesitates must remain vigilant as people will see his weakness. I am curious about your opinions of a man who speaks in such a way”.

The devil’s advocate strikes again raising his hand, and it takes almost everything in her to not smack her head off the desk in front of her.

“A man who has not asserted dominance will not gain respect, but a man who acknowledges his power and uses it to his advantage--strategically, of course, will succeed. Some people are born to be controlled and will give in to a man who is dominant enough to get it. There’s a natural order to things like this. Take women for example; were things not better when women knew it was the men who were in charge?”

“Are you kidding me right now?” her own outburst startles her, but she doesn’t stop, “Machiavelli was a paranoid man who raved about power and never truly had any in any meaningful way. You idolize a coward who advocates for spending time strategizing how to cause harm. His advice goes to extremes to justify acts that prevent facing consequences of any kind. He speaks of manipulation and domineering, cunningness for one's own gain-- there’s a reason Machiavellianism is part of the dark triad in psychology. The glorification of extreme self-interest and lack of morality is disgusting”.

The boy stares back at her in shock, and she realizes that she stood and turned to face him at the back of the room at some point. Her heart races and she can hear her blood rushing in her ears, her rage far from gone. Without a second thought, she’s grabbing her bag and rushing from the lecture hall.

There’s a moment as she’s storming through the campus hallways that she feels embarrassed; unable to believe her own ebullition. No, she thinks to herself taking a deep breath and slowing her walking speed, she focuses on relaxing her shoulders and unclenching her jaw, I’m not the one in the wrong here.

It’s week four. Twenty-five minutes into his lecture and her seat is still vacant. He finds himself feeling worried, which he wouldn’t have expected. An hour into his lecture he has accepted that it is unlikely she will be coming today. He finds himself now concerned.

There’s chatter at the back of the room, and while usually, he would ignore it making a mental note to make the questions on the mid-term more difficult, today he chooses to say something.

“I thought because you were on academic probation you might have a little more interest in the course material-- attempt to actually understand the content,” he addresses the boy at the back of the room,

“Stop your talking and pay attention, or kindly leave the room and request your withdrawal from my class”.

The room is silent, and he can feel the eyes of all the students on him, their attention pulled away from their cellphones and laptops and private conversations.

“Am I understood?” the professor asks.

The class stays silent, but their attention turns to the student Zemo addresses, waiting anxiously to hear his response. Cocky as ever the guy shakes his head laughing under his breath as he grabs his things, storming down the stairs to the front of the hall and out the room. “Anyone else?” the professor asks, eyebrow raised, “Wonderful. Now, as I was saying; you have an essay due week five. It should be on my desk at the beginning of class. Your essay topics have been posted on the online learning portal”.

She lies in bed a small pile of tissues growing on her nightstand, laptop balanced on her chest and she reads through the slides from Professor Zemo’s class. A sudden coughing fit interrupts her reading and she decides that she’ll finish tomorrow before she starts her essay. She needs sleep, after being ill for nearly a week after that rainstorm while taking the time to get better has been necessary, she can’t help but feel sad that she’s missing her favourite class today. And even worse, she realizes there was a quiz today. Damn it.

The next morning she drags herself out of bed. Her head is still pounding, but it’s no longer blinding pain. She still has the sniffles too, but her cough is much better than it had been, and she finds she’s able to speak without feeling like she’s swallowed glass. She checks her school email hoping that the professor has responded to her email enquiry about what to do since she missed the quiz. No such luck; instead the school’s network is down. Double damn it.

Bundled in her cosiest sweater and leggings she owns, she manages to make herself look half presentable, grabbing her bag and laptop and heading out the door. Professors Zemo’s office hours are 10 am -2 pm today, she checks her phone to find that it’s nearly 1:30 already. The day just keeps getting better and better.

He’s trying to think about what he actually has in the fridge to eat when he gets home, and settles on the reality that he’s probably going to end up ordering in again tonight. Slipping out of his office, his bag slung over one shoulder he’s about to lock the door when,

“Fuck!” her exclamation echos around the empty hallway. He chuckles to himself, turning to look at the owner of the voice. “Sorry--I didn’t think--It wasn’t supposed to be that loud. Sorry,” she rambles.

“It’s fine. I too have found, no matter how many languages I learn, sometimes the only appropriate word at the moment is ‘fuck’. It gets right to the point,” his statement and small smile help to quell her embarrassment. He reopens the door to his office holding it open, “Here, come in”.

“Are you sure? You were on your way out-- I don’t want to keep you from your plans”.

“I have no plans. Besides, you’re the only student I’ve had in a long time who has actually bothered to come and see me after they missed a test. I owe you the courtesy”.

She bites the inside of her lip before nodding and making her way into the office. She sits in one of the leather armchairs in front of his desk peering around the room at the walls of books and maps; stacks of papers on the intricately carved oak desk.

“You didn’t miss much,” he tells her putting his bag down and shrugging off his coat, “and I’m happy to let you do the test now if you chose, I haven’t finished marking the rest of your classes yet”. “Thank you”.

“Not a problem,” he begins digging through one of his drawers, he slides a 3 page collated test across to her and sets another stack of papers on the desk, “Actually, I confess I’ve been procrastinating doing this marking, so I should be thanking you”.

“I don’t imagine it’s easy reading other people’s opinions all day”. “On the contrary-- I love reading other people’s opinions, it’s the lack of opinions that I dread”.

She nods. “Do you have a pen I could borrow?” He motions to the cup on his desk stuffed full of pens and pencils, taking one for himself.

She reads through the quiz setting to work, not finding the questions too difficult. “Sorry-- Professor, do you have a copy of the book I can borrow?”

“You apologise a lot,” he tilts his head looking at her for a moment and she feels like he’s staring straight through her, “there’s a copy on the shelf over there...should be the fourth shelf from the bottom right-hand side”.

She makes her way to the shelf fingers tracing the spines of each book; Bronte, Tolstoy, Hemingway, Freud, Jung, Fitzgerald, Woolf, Orwell, Poe, Plato, Aristotle; the panoply of books and authors go on and on, each cover more worn than the last, paperbacks well-loved with cracked spines and flaking covers, leather-bound first editions. She finds The Prince, as read as the others red leather and gold leaf. She almost feels bad taking it off the shelf, she realizes it’s most definitely his personal copy.

“Did you find it?” his voice startles her from her thoughts.

“Yeah, thank you. It’s a beautiful copy”.

He nods, turning back to his marking.

She’s just starting on the second page of the test when her stomach rumbles. It’s silent this time, but she can feel it and she knows that it’s only a matter of time before it happens again and probably louder. Being sick she hasn’t been hungry for a while, but it dawns on her that she hasn’t had anything to eat all day. She writes faster hoping to finish her test before her growling stomach becomes noticeable. Of course, no such luck. It’s only a few minutes later when it happens again, and just as predicted it’s louder. If he hears it he doesn’t say anything.

He does hear it. But he ignores it, grading his way through mindless ramblings from students who haven’t bothered to read the chapters at all, most of them coming nowhere close to answering the test questions in an intelligent form. He’s used to it though, after teaching the class for three years, it’s what he’s come to expect. Her stomach rumbles again and he looks up to see her clutching her belly and staring down as if to tell her body to shut up. It reminds him that he should eat something himself.

Before thinking it through too much he says,

“I was thinking of ordering some Chinese food. Do you want some?”

“No, I couldn’t--I don’t want to intrude”. “Please--I won’t say I insist, but we’re both hungry and I’m ordering for myself”.

“Okay. But only because I’m still working on this test, and I’m worried I’ll parish before I do”. He laughs, “I apologise, my tests do tend to run on the long side”.

She smiles.

It’s much later when tests have been put aside in favour of boxes of Chow Mein, Spring Rolls and Sweet and Sour chicken. Casual conversation flows; the stiff shroud of academia dropped if only for a moment.

“So, you’re not a philosophy major. I realize I’ve never had you in any of my other classes. I teach first-year ‘introduction to’, as well”.

She nods, “I’m not. I’m working on my masters now. Your class just seemed like the most interesting breadth elective”.

“And is it?” He smirks, taking another bite of his food.

“I was honestly hoping for some more intelligent discord, but most of the class has proved to be insufferable”.

“I am afraid I’d be a poor professor if I agreed with you--but I will not argue” he laughs.

He has a good laugh. A laugh that feels like genuine joy. It feels special coming from a man who rarely even cracks a smile. She allows herself to feel something akin to pride.

“I can only imagine how some of the other students answered these questions,” she sighs putting down her container of rice to pick up her own test, she flips through it rereading her answers, “I think I’m done by the way,” she says sliding the papers across the desk to him.

“I look forward to reading your responses”.

She tries to ignore the feeling of warmth that spreads up the back of her neck and across her cheeks.

“Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?” he tilts his head.

“Sorry--never mind”.

“No, please-- go ahead. Ask”. “Sokovia”. He smiles softly, “No one ever asks”.

“I’m sorry—I don’t mean to—“

“It’s alright. But yes, I do miss it. Very much”.

She nods, “I’m sorry it’s gone”.

“So am I,” he smiles sadly.

------

She checks her phone, 9:05pm.

“I should get going,” she sighs collecting her things.

Their conversation had shifted from his class to his home, to her major and her interests. They spent time talking about politics, art, religion. The conversation flowed easily; Two minds equally matched. But glancing out the window, the sun has set and she doesn't look forward to the walk to the bus stop in the dark.

“Did you drive here?” He asks collecting his own things, “did you want me to walk you to your car?”

“No, I took transit actually”.

“Does it run at this time?”

She nods, “it's not so bad. It's walking across campus that makes me nervous”

He nods, “I don't mean to be forward--but would you like a ride home?”

“Oh--I couldn't. I don't want to be a bother”

“Not a bother. I assure you. I must admit I'm not sure I'd be able to sleep very well not knowing if you got home safe after leaving here--” he stutters for a moment, “what I mean to say is, I know the campus isn't the best place to be at night. It's not an inconvenience to make sure you get home okay”.

Weighing her options she nods, “okay, I appreciate it”.

The walk to the car is silent and mildly awkward. Neither entirely sure what to say. Outside the air is chilly now that the sun has gone down, a shiver runs up her spine and she’s reminded that she has not fully recovered from her sickness yet.

He notices her shivers and makes a mental note to make sure he puts the heat on in the car.

She’s not shocked when he guides her towards the Mercedes Benz. Inside, leather seats, illuminated dashboard, wool carpets. She withholds a smirk as she buckles herself in. Of course, he has an expensive car.

“I didn’t know professors were paid this well,” she comments. She mentally scolds herself, what a stupid thing to say.

He laughs though, “some do. I personally am fortunate via family inheritance, however”.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry--”.

“It’s alright,” he assures her buckling his own belt and starting the car, “Your wit and curiosity are welcomed wholeheartedly”. He adjusts the heat turning it up before pulling out of the parking lot.

“You’ll have to tell me where I am going, I’m afraid I have not yet truly learned my way around this city”.

“In that case, I’ll also point out all the good coffee spots,” she smiles.

When they arrive in front of her apartment she sighs, “thank you again. You really didn’t have to”. “Please,” he stops her, “It was my pleasure. I needed a new place to get my coffee”.

“Have a goodnight Professor,” she smiles grabbing her bag. “Please, call me Helmut”.

She nods opening the door and stepping out, “goodnight Helmut”.

He smiles as she turns to shut the door behind her, “Remember you have a paper due next class”.

“I’ll try not to disappoint,” she laughs.

He makes sure she gets inside alright before driving off. As he makes his way home there’s a nagging feeling settling in his chest. A tugging at his heart like a loose thread on a sweater sleeve. He tries his best to ignore it. Part 2 here

[yelena-bellova]

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

chapter three - Chapter Four: Madripoor - chapter five

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n, Sam and Bucky pay an eventful visit to Helmut Zemo in Berlin, heading to Madripoor soon after to get answers about the serum.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: spoilers for episode.3, angst, violence, description of injuries, a few crumbs for the slow burn, breaking the law and looking good doing it

A/N: These chapters always end up being so long lol. I was going to include the nightclub scene but it would’ve made it too long so sorry, it’ll have to wait a few more days. Forgive my shitty Russian translations, I’m on Google Translate and that’s not saying a lot. 

----

“Not that it makes a difference, but I still don’t like this.” I’d voiced my displeasure about meeting with Zemo several times since we’d arrived in Germany. Even though we were already being led through the high security Berlin prison hallways, I still felt the urge to state my opinion. 

The guard that was guiding us gestured towards a door, “He’s just through the corridor.”

“Give us a sec,” Bucky said, the three of us coming to a halt in the middle of the hall. “I’m gonna go in alone.” “Why?” Sam asked.

“You’re an Avenger, you know how he feels about that,” Bucky looked to me, “You, I’m trying to keep as far away from him as possible.”

“It’s not like you two were known for frolickin’ in the sun together,” Sam remarked.

“I’m gonna say it again,” I took an assertive step forward, “I don’t like this.”

“He was obsessed with HYDRA,” Bucky pushed, “We have a history together. Trust me, I got it.”

Taking my cue from Sam, who didn’t fight him any more, I nervously watched Bucky stalk down the hallway to the corridor that led to our possible next step.

“Is he really okay?” I asked, watching Bucky’s figure until he disappeared, “I feel like we’re going a little too far with this.” “He’s invested, which means he’s desperate,” Sam answered, leaning his back against the wall, “This is a little too much though.” 

I copied his posture and we stood in silence, the occasional guard passing by. “What happened last night after I left the room? C’mon, you come out crying and you thought I was gonna let it go?” “Bucky and I were just…” I sighed, remembering the change that had happened between our two conversations, “Learning to get along. I told him about Steve, that’s never fun to relive.” “Ah,” Sam nodded, “Can I ask you something?” 

“Hm?” “You’re not mad at me that I gave up the shield, are you?”

My brows knitted together as I looked over at him, “Why would I be mad? Your decision wouldn’t have changed even if I was, would it?” “No, it wouldn’t have. But you were close to Steve too, you care about his legacy,” he went on, “We’re all angry about Walker. I don’t care if Bucky’s upset at me, but I always care if you are.” “Someone ever tell you you care too much sometimes?” I playfully nudged his sneaker with my own, “Of course I’m not mad, you know I support you no matter what. You made the right decision for you and you have nothing to apologize for. Bucky and even Steve don’t need to understand why you chose to give it up. Would it have been cool to say that my brother is Captain America?” I coaxed a laugh out of him, “Of course, but it doesn’t change how I see you. I’m just proud to say my brother is Sam Wilson.” He poked me with his elbow and smiled, “Now I remember why I keep you around.” “Y/n Y/l/n, Falcon’s Ego Booster.” We were sharing a laugh when Bucky came back around the corner. “That was quick,” I observed. He’d been in there five minutes tops.

“We’ve got our next stop.”

————

“What are you talking about? You wanna break Zemo outta jail?” Sam questioned in the dark, “Where are we, Buck? Have you lost your mind?”

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing,” Bucky replied, shining his flashlight around to try and find the power switch. I couldn’t clearly make out where he had brought us to, he’d brought us through the back door of the building. “So because we’ve hit one dead end, you want to spring one of the most dangerous men in the world out of prison?” I asked, shining my flashlight at Bucky causing him to throw a hand up to shield his eyes, “Bucky, I don’t-“ “Like this,” he finished, “I got that, but we’ve got eight Super Soldiers on the loose.” “Zemo’s gonna miss with our minds, especially yours,” Sam interjected, “No offense.” I made out Bucky’s silhouette reaching up a beam, a loud click of a switch and the lights began to turn on. “Offense,” he scowled.

With the lights on, we could finally see that we were in an auto shop. I was glad to be out of the prison but I wasn’t seeing the correlation between it and freeing Zemo.

“Super Soldiers go against everything he believes in,” Bucky continued, “He is crazy, but he still has a code.” “I’ve been on the wrong side of that code and so have you,” Sam countered, I’d heard in detail about the havoc Zemo had caused and the ramifications of his actions had caused Sam and Steve to become fugitives. Never mind what he’d done to Bucky…”He blew up the UN, he killed King T’Chaka and framed you for it. Did you forget that? You think the Wakandans forgot about it? It’s a rhetorical question, they didn’t. I know why this matters to you, but it’s pushing you off the deep end.”

Bucky stood in front of us now, “We don’t know how they’re gettin’ the serum. We don’t even know how many of them there are,” Sam turned his back in frustration, “Look, let me just walk you two through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

“What did you do?” Sam asked suspiciously, turning halfway to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“I didn’t…” Bucky’s looked away briefly, “Do anything.”

“Then by all means,” I leaned up against a beam and crossed my arms, not believing him at all, “Let’s ride the hypothetical train.” Bucky frowned at my sarcasm before launching into it, “The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element. Now, in this lockup, it’s nine to one, prisoners to guards. And if two prisoners start fighting, then the protocol says four guards have to respond.” “So why would two prisoners randomly start fighting at that moment?” Sam asked.

“Who knows? There could be many reasons…But the point is, these things escalate. Lockdown procedures would have to be initiated and with all those bodies flying around left and right, wouldn’t be hard to slip down a hallway or two. And if the fire alarm got tripped while the prisoners were being separated, someone could use the chaos to their advantage.”

“My gut is sounding off every alarm it has right now,” I commented from my place across from Bucky.

“Yeah, I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this, this is unnatural,” Sam replied finally, “Are you- and where are we, man?” A nearby door closing caused us to turn our attention towards it, a silhouette appearing soon after through a curtain. The shadow became a man and walked through the cloth divider wearing the face I’d had etched in my brain since the day it hit the news.

“You son of a bitch,” I mumbled, creating a ball of energy quickly with my hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sam’s voice rose, walking with me towards the man, “What are you doin’ here?” Bucky was quick to throw himself in front of us, “No, listen. I didn’t want to tell you ‘cause I knew neither of you would let this happen.” “What the hell did you do?” I exclaimed.

“We need him,” Bucky said. Sam pointed to Zemo, “You’re going back to prison!”

“If I may,” the Sokovian man began, removing the hat of his stolen prison guard uniform.

“NO!” the three of us yelled at the same time. He hung his head, “Apologies…” Bucky turned back to Sam, “When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you backed him. You broke the law, and you stuck your neck out for me,” when Sam averted his gaze, Bucky chased it, “I’m asking you to do it again.” 

“And what about her?” Sam gestured to me and the ball of energy I still had formed in my palms, “What happens when she breaks the law?” Bucky’s pleading eyes drifted to me, “He’s our only shot at getting any answers.” My mind was wrestling with itself, his rightness was inevitably going to come at a cost we would all have to pay. On a technicality, yes, I could plead innocent to freeing Zemo. A coconspirator charge, I wouldn’t be so lucky with. But stopping the Flag Smashers meant saving lives and that wasn’t something I could walk away from. I deformed the energy in my hands in cautious surrender, “I’m already breakin’ the law by going against the accords, I need to make it worth it at least.” Sam shot me an exasperated glance, but he didn’t fight me.

“I really think I’m invaluable…” Zemo began from his corner.

“Shut up…” Sam warned, effectively shutting him up. Sam thought it all over for a second before pressing his flashlight to Bucky’s chest, “Okay. If we do this, you don’t make a move without our permission.” Zemo shrugged, “Fair.”

The three of us shared an uneasy look, there was no going back now. “Okay, Zemo, where do we start?”

“Follow me,” he smiled, leading the way out of the auto shop and expecting us to follow. Sam went first, eager to keep his eye on Zemo at all times while Bucky and I brought up the rear.

“I didn’t want to have to go this route,” he said from beside me as if he owed me some explanation for his actions. I sighed, trying to shut off the part of my brain that was screaming at me, “Just be right.”

We maneuvered through a few corridors until we hit a room filled with beautiful antique cars. “So our first move is grand theft auto?” Sam asked. “These are mine,” Zemo corrected, “Collected by family over the generations. I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum. Because once it’s out there, someone can create an army of people…like the Avengers,” he dug through one of the cars to pull out a bag and coat, “I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished.” My eyes unavoidably flickered to Bucky, observing his reaction to hearing his old code name. He simply watched the man continue speaking. “To do this, we’ll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes.”

“Well, join the party. We’ve already started…” Sam commented.

“First stop is a woman named Selby,” Zemo stated as he headed for the exit, “Mid-level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb.” 

Sam, Bucky and I left a gaping distance between us and him, we were still highly suspicious and I had a feeling we would be until our temporary partnership came to an end.

————

Zemo had gotten word to somebody that we’d be meeting them at a private airport in Berlin and flying to someplace called Madripoor. Somehow we’d made the journey without being recognized, even those of us who were wanted across the globe. “So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam asked as we made our way towards the private plane.

“I’m a Baron, Sam,” Zemo answered, “My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country.” 

Zemo greeted the man standing outside the plane, who was dressed like a butler, in Sokovian. “Well,” I crossed my arms and watched one of the world’s most dangerous men exchange cheek kisses, “If we’re going to work with a criminal, at least we picked one that comes with transportation.” “Please,” Zemo said, gesturing for us to follow him up the plane’s steps. Sam awkwardly bowed to the butler and headed up. Bucky extended a hand towards the jet for me to go ahead of him before following closely behind.

When we filed into the plane, Sam and Zemo were already seated. I moved to take the chair across from the baron, wanting to keep as close an eye on him as I could. Bucky’s flesh arm reached out quickly and grabbed my shoulder, I turned to question him and met his wary expression. “Sit with Sam,” he muttered quietly, our faces close enough that I could feel his breath as he’d spoken. It dawned on me that he wanted me to have the safer position. I answered with a nod, maneuvering around him to sit across from Sam. Even though his hand had left my arm, I could still feel its print through my jacket.

We had been flying for maybe twenty minutes when Zemo’s butler, Oeznik, came in carrying a glass of champagne for Zemo and offering to whip up some food. It astounded me how to the world, he was evil yet to his servants, he was a joy. “You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell,” the baron said before looking over at my brother, “Oh, that’s right. You do.”

Sam bypassed the jab remarkably, “Why don’t you tell us about where we’re going?”

“I’m sorry, I was just fascinated by this,” Zemo held up a book, “I don’t know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?”

Not two seconds after the name had left his lips, Bucky out of his seat with his metal hand wrapped around Zemo’s neck. My heart stopped as I watched him lean over the man threateningly. “If you touch that book again,” he growled, “I’ll kill you.” This was a side of Bucky I had yet to see, the one that straddled the line between his dark past and his true self. As he sat back down, tucking the book in his pocket and refusing to meet my eyes, I could tell he wasn’t pleased with how he’d acted. I wasn’t in a place to criticize but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been slightly worried when his fingers hit Zemo’s skin.

“I’m sorry,” Zemo said, “I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.” “Don’t push it,” Bucky rasped, collecting himself after the scene.

“I’ve seen that book,” Sam spoke up, “It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man, he wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What’d you think?” “I like ’40’s music,” Bucky shrugged and looked out the window, “So…” “You didn’t like it?” Sam exclaimed.

“I liked it,” Bucky replied unconvincingly.

“It is a masterpiece, James,” Zemo chimed in, his hands forming a triangle, “Complete, comprehensive…It captures the African-American experience.” While my brows raised at the European’s surprising education, Sam’s furrowed. “He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great, everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

Bucky shook his head, “I like Marvin Gaye.” “Steve adored Marvin Gaye.” “He did,” I chuckled, reminiscing back to only last year, “Played him almost anytime I got in a car with him.” “You must have really looked up to Steve,” Zemo said, “But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America’s Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals.” “Watch your step, Zemo…” Sam warned. “They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there,” he shrugged, “Cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought,” Zemo turned his attention to Bucky, “You remember that, right?” As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull? That is why we’re going to Madripoor.” “What’s up with Madripoor?” Sam looked between the two men, “You guys talk about it like it’s Skull Island.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago,” Bucky grumbled, “It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s.” “It’s kept its lawless ways, but we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves,” Zemo’s unsettling eyes moved back to Bucky, “James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.” 

With the way Bucky’s expression had changed in mere seconds from complacent to tortured, it didn’t take long to decode what Zemo was insinuating. “No,” I blurted out, “That’s not fair to ask of him.” “I admire your devotion, Y/n,” Zemo complimented with his lips to his champagne flute, taking a quick sip, “But you know nothing of how Madripoor works. If you want to get to Selby, we must have protection. More than that, we must have leverage. James can provide us both by simply playing a part.” “Devo-?” I shook my head, sidestepping Zemo’s comment, “That’s not playing a part, that’s like reliving every nightmare you’ve ever had. I-it’s like-“ “Y/n,” I turned to see Bucky’s chair rotated towards me, looking helpless and determined all at once, “We need in.” “Yeah, but…” I started to protested before seeing his eyes, those ocean blue eyes I was growing to feel comforted by begging me to let the subject go. I clenched my own y/e/c ones shut in frustration, “Okay.” “Now that that’s settled,” Zemo stood from his seat, “I will find us something to change into, we will need to blend in where we’re going.” ——

The silver dress Zemo had chosen for me was…it made me wonder just what kind of scene we were planning to enter. It was more revealing than anything I typically wore, but gorgeous nonetheless and fit perfectly.

As I was finishing my makeup in the bathroom of the plane, I had to take a second to steel myself for what was to come. This wasn’t just dallying with Super Soldiers any more, this was dancing with the criminal underworld. Zemo hadn’t told us yet the roles we were playing, only that we needed to stay in character at all cost. I had never felt more out of my depth, but had no choice but to rise to the occasion. Giving myself one last check in the mirror, I unlocked and exited the bathroom. 

“Okay, I hope whoever I’m playing is bad with heels,” I held up the elaborate shoes Zemo had matched to my dress, “Because there’s no way I’m going to be graceful in these.” Sam looked up from tying his dress shoes, dressed in a maroon suit patterned with yellow circles. His eyes scanned my outfit unapprovingly. “Uh uh,” he protested, going full protective big brother, “Nope. It shows too much.” “It doesn’t matter what it shows,” I said, bending over to strap on the shoes, “It’s what I’ve got.” “She’s right,” Zemo chimed in, putting his jacket on, “You two are supposed to be rich, glamorous travelers of the world. You need to look the part,” he nodded towards me, “You wear it well.” I politely smiled at the baron and looked up to Bucky, perched in the far corner of the jet. His gaze was fixed on me, eyes quickly traveling down my body before quickly locking with mine. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his plush lips parted ever so slightly. I found myself just as drawn into him as he seemed to be with me, for a few seconds it was just the two of us shutting our surroundings out. It was…something. “You look nice,” Bucky finally said, his voice slightly strained.

My lips quirked upwards, “Thanks.” “It is time for us to leave,” Zemo announced, bursting the bubble Bucky and I had built, “You’d better get used to those shoes quickly, we’ll be making most of the journey by foot.” He hadn’t been lying. We departed the runway and walked our way towards the city. Madripoor looked beautiful on the outside, the high-rise buildings lit up in all different colors emitting a glow across the waters. 

“We have to do something about this,” Sam finally exclaimed, holding the lapels of his patterned maroon suit, “I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.” “If you’re a pimp, what does that make me?” I gestured to the amount of skin I had on display, “Suck it up, Wilson.” “Only an American would assume a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp,” Zemo added as we crossed the large bridge leading to the city, “You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.” Sam took Zemo’s phone from his outstretched hand, “He even has a bad nickname.”

I leaned over to look at the picture of Sam’s doppelgänger, “Hey, be nice. That’s your twin you’re talking about.” “And you,” Zemo addressed me, “Conrad is known for entertaining beautiful women, one after the other,” he ignored the faces of disgust Sam and I made at the thought of acting as a couple, “You will be playing tonight’s date, no need to come up with a name or a story as his dates are typically just arm candy.”

“So I’m supposed to just sit and look pretty?” I side eyed Zemo in annoyance, “Great.” “You smell this?” he asked the group.

“Yeah, what is that? Acid?” Sam asked.

“Madripoor,” Zemo answered, “No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There’s no margin for error. High Town’s that way,” Zemo pointed towards the part of the city I’d been admiring, “Not a bad place if you want to visit, but Low Town’s the other way.” We approached a car waiting for us at the end of the bridge, ready to take us into the darkest part of the city. Bucky, who had remained silent since the plane, climbed into the backseat first while Zemo took the passenger’s side. “Let me guess,” Sam remarked as we moved to get in the car, “We don’t have any friends in High Town.”

“I’m guessing not,” I muttered, ducking into the back seat and sliding till I was pressed against Bucky. He didn’t make a sound, he barely even registered my presence. I was about to ask him if he was alright when I realized what he was doing. We all had our roles to play and Bucky was doing just that. 

Sam climbed in next to me and we took off, me sandwiched between the two men trying to convince myself that I could do this. I could pretend to be someone I wasn’t to get answers, but my nerves was convincing me I was going to mess it up for us. No margin for error, Zemo’s words bounced around in my brain. He’d said our lives depended on it. They depended on whether or not I could keep it together. Sam must have sensed my anxiety because I felt his palm slide against my clammy one and squeeze. I sent a shaky one back, taking what comfort I could that I didn’t have to do this alone.

We were escorted in by a motorcade till we got to the seedier part of the city, the bridge we parked under painted with graffiti. Sam helped me out of the car and Zemo took our group through the back way into the city. As we crossed the overhead bridge, looking down into the city, I began to feel like my life had suddenly become some fever dream. Even more so once we entered the city and I was surrounded by people from all walks of life. Smugglers were making deals, guards were stationed outside buildings with machine guns, forgers were trying to sell to people. It was like nothing I’d ever seen. Sam kept me on his arm the entire time, selling our characters while still retaining his protective nature. We followed Zemo into a crowded bar, weaving our way through. “Here we are,” he announced quietly, our fellow patrons took notice as soon as they caught sight of Bucky, “Gotov podchinit'sya, zimniy soldat?” (Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?)

I tried my best to keep my face neutral, though an unwelcome chill went down my spine as Zemo began his act. It was wrong. It wasn’t fair to Bucky or his recovery to make him do this.

We approached the bar and the bartender came over immediately, “Hello, gentlemen. Ma’am. Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.” “His plans changed,” Zemo explained, “We have business to do with Selby.”

The bartender looked over suspiciously at Sam, “The usual?” Sam nodded casually in response and the man walked away to begin prepping the drink. What took us by surprise was when he reached for a jar containing a dead snake rather than the bottle of alcohol. He proceeded to lay the reptile on a cutting board and slice its stomach open, I looked up to Sam who was doing his best to keep his composure. “Ah, Smiling Tiger,” Zemo jeered, “Your favorite.”

The bartender removed a piece of the snake’s guts and sunk it into a shot glass filled with vodka. I covered my mouth with my clutch to conceal my delight at the sight I was about to behold. Sam caught the action and addressed the bartender, “You know what? She’ll have one too.” “Oh, no, I don’t think so,” I quickly protested, waving it off as if it were a shot of tequila and not an animal intestine.

“No, girl, I insist,” Sam grinned phonily at me.

“They actually upset my stomach,” I giggled, glancing to the bartender, “Can’t hold my liquor to save my life, I’ll be up all night sick if it touches my lips. But you enjoy, sweetheart.” The bartender didn’t pay much attention to the exchange as he set the shot glass in front of Sam, who looked unconvincingly between the glass and Zemo. “I love these,” he stated, holding it up for us all to see.

“Cheers, Conrad,” Zemo clinked his glass against Sam’s.

Sam made several, hopefully convincing, noises of excitement about his drink. After giving it one last look, he shot it straight down, holding a thumbs up to the bartender afterwards.

“How badly are you trying not to throw up right now?” I whispered after the man had left.

“I can’t even hear you right now,” Sam replied in a strained voice, focusing on keeping the drink where it needed to be. An intimidating bearded man made us all turn around, he looked to Zemo. “I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.”

Zemo, ever the cool and collected presence, turned to the man. “I have no business with the Power Broker. But if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo gestured to Bucky, standing at his side. 

“New haircut?” the man asked Bucky, who stayed silent.

“Or bring Selby for a chat,” Zemo finished.

The man left, leaving us with questions. “A power broker?” Bucky grumbled, “Really?” “Every kingdom needs its king,” Zemo replied, “Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.” 

“Do you know him?” Sam inconspicuously asked. “Only be reputation the baron answered, “In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner.”

I spotted another man approaching us, this one walking with a purpose. Zemo looked to Bucky, the show was about to start. “Zimniy Soldat,” Bucky nodded once, “Attask.” (Winter Soldier, attack.) As soon as the stranger thumped Zemo’s shoulder, Bucky sprang to action, his metal hand grabbing and twisting the man’s arm. He pushed him to the center of the room where he proceeded to twist it further before dropping him to the ground. The groans coming from him were sickening as he lay helpless, clutching his most likely broken arm. As another patron came up to attack, Bucky moved fast to disarm him before power kicking him into a table several times. I clung to Sam’s arm even tighter as Zemo shoved someone forward for Bucky to punch, sending him sliding across the floor. 

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form,” Zemo slyly observed, from my side. It took everything in me not to send him flying across the room right then. He was enjoying this.

When Bucky lifted a man by his throat and slammed him down on the bar was when guns all over the bar were cocked. Sam grabbed onto Bucky’s metal arm, ready to pull him back to us and to reality. “Stay in character,” Zemo whispered, dead serious, “Or the whole bar turns on us.” Sam dropped his arm as Zemo leaned into Bucky, “Molodets, soldat.” (Well done, soldier.)

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender said, watching the scene in awe. Bucky slowly let the man go, gasping and groaning for air once he was freed. Sam looked over warily, “You good?” When Bucky faced us, his eyes met mine before they met Sam’s. I wished I could have concealed my reaction better for his sake, but the second he had attacked was the first time since we’d met that I’d been properly scared of him. It made the incident on the plane look like nothing. My mind knew he was just acting, pretending to be someone he once was for the sake of furthering our mission. But my blood ran just as cold with fear as it would have if the Winter Soldier was standing in front of me. Bucky’s eyes now were watery, filled with pain that he’d worked hard with his therapist to get through, now being brought back to life. Had the bar not been watching and had I not needed to stick with Sam, I’d have been at his side trying to make sure he was alright. Instead, I could only watch as he sniffled, nodded to Sam and followed Zemo to wherever we were going next.

We were escorted upstairs through a series of hallways with a heavily armed guard following us. A white haired woman sat in the middle of the room we were led to, tapping her fingers against the couch she lounged on. “You should know, Baron, people don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” Zemo smiled, “Not a demand. An offer.”

Sam and I took our places standing next to Selby, Bucky stood watch across from us, back in his act. 

“A lot has changed since you were here last,” Selby spared a look at Bucky, “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?” 

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo shrugged, “I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.” 

Selby pointed a blind finger towards Sam, “You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger,” she eyed Sam suggestively and gave him a purr before turning her attention to me, “And what a lovely little dish you’ve got with you.” Internally I was struggling to stay calm and had never felt more exposed with the thin materiel of the dress over my body. “What’s the offer?” Selby grinned at Zemo.

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum,” Zemo replied, rising from his seat to circle Bucky, “And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want,” Zemo rubbed Bucky’s chin, playing with it to provoke him but knowing he could get away with it. I felt sick to my stomach.

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember,” Selby approved, “I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but…things didn’t go as planned.”

I squeezed Sam’s arm, we were getting answers. The crazy, chaotic plan was actually working. “Is Nagal still in Madripoor?” Zemo asked.

“Oh, the bread crumbs you can have for free,” Selby’s flirtatious demeanor shifted as she stood to business-like, “But the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.” 

A sudden vibration tickled my arm from Sam’s suit pocket, it was his cell phone. He pulled it out hesitantly and looked down at it, I glanced over to see that it was Sarah calling.

“Answer it,” Selby ordered, Bucky had moved behind her to give us protection if need be, “On speaker.” The armed bodyguards moved in closer, it was clear we had no say in the matter. Sam unlocked his phone and pressed the speaker button, “Hello?” “Hey, um, we need to talk about this situation,” Sarah’s voice filled the air, sending an all too brief wave of peace through me, “It’s been drivin’ me nuts.” 

“What situation exactly are you talkin’ about?” Sam replied stiffly. “Are you high? You know what situation, it’s the only situation me and you have.”

“What situation, Sarah?” Sam’s voice grew louder, “Say it.”

“The damn boat,” Sarah replied just as hard, “And watch your tone, okay? I let you slide at the bank.”

Sarah. The boat. Home. And here I was standing in a designer dress meeting with Indonesian crime bosses. Two unbelievable worlds were colliding on the call.

Sam scoffed and nervously chuckling, “Yeah, the bank. Laundered so much, yeah, they’ll come around.” “If that was the case, then why’d they dog you out, Big Time?”

“Yeah, you damn right I’m Big Time. You’ll see,” Sam paused menacingly, “When I have that banker killed.”

We almost had Selby convinced as I watched her pace around the room, we were so close to- “Cass! What’d I tell you about the Cheerios? I don’t have time for this!” Sarah yelled, “Sam, I’m sorry. Let me call you back, and make sure Y/n is with you too.” “Sam? Y/n?” Selby echoed the names, “Who are you? Kill them!”

A second after she had given the order, a bullet shot through the nearby window and struck her chest fatally. The four of us sprung to action, Sam landing punches on the guard stationed behind us while I used my energy to pull the machine gun from his grasp. Across from us, Bucky took care of the other guard. I handed the weapon to Sam and we took our positions in the back of the room, ready to retaliate against the hidden assassin. “They’re gonna pin this on us,” Sam panted, our backs against the wall.

“We have a real problem now,” Zemo said, unbelievably calm for someone in our situation, “So leave your weapons and follow my lead.” Bucky ripped the lock on the back door and the four of us filed down the staircase quick as we could. It dropped us back off in the middle of the city, we hurriedly made our way down the street where all heads were turning to us. “This is not good,” Zemo hurried. The words hung in the air for a grand total of five seconds before bullets started to rain down around us. Bucky, Sam and I tore down the street where in the chaos, Zemo took off in another direction.

“I can’t run in these heels!” Sam yelled over the gunfire. “Oh, I don’t wanna hear it,” I exclaimed, struggling to keep up with them in my stilettos, “Screw it!”

I threw my hands out to my side and lifted off the ground, keeping low enough to dodge any shots but stay close to Sam and Bucky. Two motorcycles sped after us promising more bounty hunters, Zemo caught up with us and killed two lone gunmen hiding behind a dumpster. Two perfectly aimed bullets came out of nowhere and lodged themselves in the heads of the cyclists chasing us.

“You seem to have a guardian angel,” Zemo observed as the three of us looked around for our savior.

“Well, this is too perfect,” a woman’s voice said, she appeared seconds later drawing back her hood and pointing a gun toward us, “Drop it, Zemo.”

Bucky stepped forward disbelievingly, “Sharon?” Sharon Carter. I recognized her only from the pictures I’d seen of her on the news when the shitstorm that branded her an enemy of the state went down. As she strode forward, ready to strike down the man responsible, I couldn’t say with certainty if she was an ally or not. “You cost me everything,” she seethed.

“Sharon, wait,” Sam, ever the steady presence, held a hand out and carefully came towards her, “Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” “Well, that explains why you guys are here and Selby’s dead.”

“So what are you doing here?” Bucky asked.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember?” she answered, her face contorting, “I also took the wings for your ass,” she aimed her gun at Sam, “So that you could save his ass,” then at Bucky, “From his ass,” the gun landed on me after Zemo, “Your ass is new.” “I’ve had one hell of an initiation, trust me,” I replied, standing my ground between Bucky and Zemo.

Sharon turned back towards Sam, “Unlike you, I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up so I’m off the grid in Madripoor.”

“Don’t blow that smoke at me, I was on the run, too,” Sam recalled. “Was. Is. Big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore,” Sharon shook her head sadly, “I can’t. My own father doesn’t know where I am.”

“Listen, Sharon,” Bucky stepped forward, “We need your help. Please.” Sharon mirthlessly chuckled to herself, sighing afterwards as she made her decision. “This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town, you should be safe there for a while.”

While Sam roughly shoved Zemo forward to keep him in his line of sight, Bucky pressed a gentle hand to the small of my back to act as a guide through the dark alleyways. “You okay?” he asked quietly, quickly looking over at me. With everything he’d gone through in the last twenty minutes, the fight in the bar, the unshed tears in his eyes, Zemo talking about him like he was property to be traded, I couldn’t understand why he was asking if I was alright. He was what I was concerned with right now. “I will be once I get out of these shoes,” I joked, trying to get him to smile if at all possible. A corner of his lips turned upwards in a blink-and-you’d-miss-it flash, mine doing the same right after in some sort of relief.

Sharon led us to her car parked down a different alley, Sam shoved Zemo in the front seat while him, Bucky and I squeezed in the backseat once again. The difference between Low Town and High Town was visceral, Madripoor may have been dangerous no matter where you went but High Town provided a little more safety. When we arrived at Sharon’s house, greeted by two burly guards, the feeling of protection increased. The first room we entered was filled with artwork, statues and other priceless works that told us exactly what Sharon had done to afford her lifestyle in High Town.

“Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well,” Sam commented as we walked through the room.

“Well, I thought if I had to hustle, might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler,” Sharon shrugged, far too goodheartedly for a true criminal, “You know how much I can get for a real Monet?” Sam grinned at his friend, “Deactivate your hustle mood, you sell fake Monets.”

“No, she means real,” Zemo corrected, “This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics.” “I kinda thought that was implied,” I said, following Sharon and Zemo and beginning to relax in the shockingly calm environment, “No offense.” Sharon scoffed, “None taken, a girl’s gotta do what she can to survive. By the way, who are you?”

“Y/n Y/l/n,” I answered, “Sam’s sister.” “Hmm,” Sharon hummed, looking me over once before turning around to hurry Sam and Bucky along, “Come on, you guys need to change. I’m hosting clients in an hour. You,” she pointed to me, “Second door on your left, I’ll bring something up for you.” At the promise of shedding the over exposing dress and blistering heels, I had never moved faster in my life.

————

I took the opportunity to catch my breath while I could, the night had been a little too exciting than any of us had wanted. Sitting on the edge of Sharon’s bed with my elbows balanced on my knees, I felt the adrenaline rush I’d been running on start to subside.

The door opened, bringing in Sharon and her garment of choice. “This looked like it would fit you,” she said, tossing me a black jumpsuit that looked ten times more comfortable than what I was in. She walked over to her wardrobe and pulled out an outfit for herself, “I gotta change too, back to back?” “Works for me,” I replied, turning around and beginning to unzip the dress.

“So you said you’re Sam’s sister but your last name isn’t Wilson?” Sharon asked, I could hear the sound of her clothes hitting the floor.

“We grew up together,” I freed myself of the dress and kicked it to the corner of the room.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here though,” she said, “This is probably the shittiest family road trip you could go on so clearly there’s a reason.” I looked over to the wardrobe, a pair of black boots sitting on the floor next to it. I used my energy to levitate them and landed them at Sharon’s side. Her dry chuckle served as her reaction. “I kinda begged him to bring me,” I explained as I pulled the jumpsuit up my body, “He was going to send me back home before John Walker decided to not so subtly threaten me with the Sokovian Accords, figured I’d be safer here with them.” “Safer?” Sharon scoffed, “Did he say this before or after you were being shot at by bounty hunters?”

“Well, between getting shipped off to jail and going undercover with a superhero and a Super Soldier as protection, I’ll take my chances here.” I heard Sharon walk away, presumably finished dressing. I zipped up the suit and tightened the belt, turning around after to find her leaned up against her dresser with her hands in her pockets. “Look, I know we just met but let me do you a favor and shed some light on the subject of heroics. It’s all bullshit. The whole costume, nickname, swoop-in-and-save-the-day act is all hypocrisy. I get that you’re young, you’ve got,” she waved a hand at mine, “Whatever that is. Maybe you want to do some good, maybe you just want to feel like you’re a part of something. Maybe you didn’t think it through at all and just thought it would be cool to run with a superhero. But if you’re smart, you’ll get your ass on a plane to anywhere but here and stay clear of all this.”

There was so much going through my head that I wanted to throw back at her, proving her speech completely wrong. Then I remembered that this woman had sacrificed more than most had and the government had turned their backs on her. She’d stuck her neck out for Steve and Sam and had been punished for it. Plus, she was kind enough to give us refuge when she had every right now to. I wasn’t in a place to criticize her. If anything, she should have been a cautionary tale. “I’ve had these powers all my life and have never known what to do with them,” I responded, “I want to help people and this is the best way for me to do that. As easy as it would be for some people to walk away, this is personal and I can’t leave now.” Sharon stared back at me silently before pushing herself off the dresser and brushing past me. There were layers of her expression, if I could peel each one back I thought I might get to the sadness I suspected she felt regarding her current life status. She opened her wardrobe, pulled out a pair of combat boots and handed them to me. “Then take a step back and ask yourself how far you’re willing to go. And if the three of you live long enough to get there, is it going to be worth the hell that’ll come afterwards?” She gave me a half smile before leaving the room, her heavy words hanging in the air. Steve had been my friend, Sam was my brother and Bucky was quickly climbing the ranks of people I cared about. I was going to see this through to the end with them, but what was the end? Was it retrieving the rest of the serum and stopping the Flag Smashers? Was it only two of us returning? One? None? Questions I didn’t have the answers to swirled in my mind as I stared at the door, wondering what awaited us for the rest of the night.

----

A/N: Next chapter is going to be...let’s just say there’s gonna be a lot of developments. A lot. Hope you guys are enjoying it, let me know what you thought or if you’d like to be tagged.

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale​ @wanniiieeee​ @asoftie4bucky​ @edencherries​ @i-reblog-fics-i-like​ @ttalisa​ @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess​ @rinaispunk​ @weirdowithnobeardo​ @felicityofbakerstreet​ @godlypotterwhodiaries @eternalharry​ @voguesir​ @mizz-kraziii​ @okayline​ @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories​ @nicklet94 @intricate-melody​ @aesthethickks​ @stumbleonmywords​ @simplybarnes​ @21bruhs​ @lostinwonderland314​ @superbookishhufflepuff​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @zozebo​ @fandomxreaders​ @kittengirl998​ @sarai-ibn-la-ahad​

[nev3rfound]

don't go yet, please : h.z

you shouldn't have followed after your dear friend, but then again, the baron should know better by now that you'll never be too far behind. (1.8k)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

requested: well I had a request from @geekgirlofarchangels for friends to lovers and this is what I came up with as I'm a bitch for zemo rn warnings: mentions of blood, descriptions from tfatws also a brief attempt at german (I'm sorry if it's terrible)

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

It was one big mistake going along. You should've stayed back in the apartment as Zemo suggested. However, having been friends with the Baron for many years, he should know better by now than assume you'd do as he suggests.

Standing in the warehouse, you were watching Walker carefully. He was becoming twitchy, his patience clearly wearing thin. "It's too quiet." He states, looking over at Bucky who remains silent.

"I could check, but I am preoccupied here." Zemo chimes in, holding up his cuffed wrists, not missing the quiet chuckle from you.

"Tough crowd, Baron." You spare him a glance, noticing how he is already eyeing up the small lock on the cuffs.

"I'm going in," John steps forward, only to be blocked by Bucky.

That was the beginning of the end for things to work out smoothly. Sure, Zemo being handcuffed by Walker was one thing, but you knew Zemo well enough after all these years to know he'd be out of those within minutes. However, Walker himself was becoming a loose cannon, and you know what they say about those.

"It hasn't been ten minutes yet, John. Just sit tight." Bucky comments.

John continues to pace, nearing you and Zemo. "Don't do that, don't patronize me." John spits back, his breathing becoming frantic.

"He knows what he's doing." You speak up, ignoring Zemo muttering your name at the sight of John pausing and turning his attention to you. "Unlike some people."

"You might wanna watch yourself," John seethes, watching Zemo tug on his handcuffs. "and find better people to hang around with, sweetheart." He looks you up and down, forcing a smirk before focusing on the clock.

Stepping backwards, you can feel a hand brush across yours. Without looking, you accept it and squeeze it three times, relieved when he squeezes back.

"I'm goin' in." John marches toward Bucky, only to be pushed back. "This must be easy for you. With all that serum running through your veins." He scoffs. "Barnes, your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?"

The question hangs in the air too long, and without needing an answer, John shoves past Bucky with Lemar on his tail.

"Seriously?" You huff, moving toward Bucky and following behind him.

"Y/n," Zemo speaks up, his voice now echoing in the empty room. "you seem to be forgetting my situation." He motions to his cuffed hand.

"Well, Helmut," Slowly you walk toward him, crossing your arms over your chest whilst you try to suppress the grin forming on your lips. "I suppose you'll just have to get yourself out, you're a pro after all." You tease, turning around and leaving him be knowing he'll be right behind you in a matter of minutes.

*

Echoes of gunfire and voices bounce from the walls as you continue to run through the endless corridors, unsure where you're even heading.

Breathlessly, you find Sam who couldn't look more disappointed. "I was so close getting through to her." He admits, shaking his head. "Walkers lost control, Y/n."

"Where is he?" You ask, but Sam sighs. "I'll find him."

"Y/n," Bucky walks into the room. "I lost her." He states. "There's a dozen of them in there."

"This place is a maze." Sam mutters, taking his eye off you for a moment, just a moment long enough for you to slip out of the room and toward a spiral staircase.

If there's anything Zemo has taught you over the years, always look for a distraction. And for once, it's actually working in your favour.

Your feet guide you toward a large open part of the warehouse, lined with dusted windows.

"Don't," Karli yells, another round of shots being fired from someone whilst you remain out of sight, ducking behind one of the barrels.

Daring to peer around it, you swear to yourself seeing the Baron stood with his gun aimed at the young girl.

"This, this is all," Zemo keeps his gun trained on Karli whilst his attention shifts to the vials of serum beneath his feet. "wrong." He smiles to himself as he stamps on the first bottle, ignoring Karli's cries for him to stop.

"Helmut!" You yell, leaving your hiding spot and head straight toward him.

Before Zemo can finish his mission, his eyes widen at the sound of your voice. "Y/n?" He turns around, only to see the shield enter his peripheral a millisecond too late.

Falling to the ground with a dull thud, your out cold.

Unable to focus on anything else, Zemo rushes to your side. Blood marks your hairline from the impact and he lifts your head up, cradling it in his arms. "My liebling," Zemo mutters, brushing his fingers along the crimson dripping down your cheek. "why must you be so reckless?"

"I learn from the best." You weakly mutter, forcing your eyes to open despite the immense pain coursing through your head.

"What have you done?" Walker emerges from the shadows, a darker look across his eyes that Zemo easily recognises. "You'll pay for this," Zemo seethes, reaching for his gun as his hand shakes, crimson coating his fingertips.

John laughs and steps toward the pair of you, noting you trying to stay awake with little success. "I don't think I will somehow." John states confidently, tearing Zemo's gun from his grip and throws it forcefully against the wall, breaking it into pieces. "Have fun, Zemo." John salutes to the Baron before disappearing back into the shadows, knowing what he has to do.

Taking your hand in his, Zemo squeezes it three times in hope of a response, but you remain limp in his arms. "Come on, Y/n," He whispers, bringing your hand to his lips and presses his lips against your palm. "I can't lose you too."

*

When Zemo emerges from the building, the world is a different place. A man's body lies beneath the feet of Captain America, blood staining the shield and you lay in Zemo's arms.

"Y/n?" Bucky hits Sams arm forcefully, averting his eyes from the scene in the middle of the square to a dishevelled looking baron cradling your body close to his chest.

"What happened?" Sam demands, now walking alongside Zemo who remains lost in his thoughts, thinking back to all that time you spent visiting him in prison, trying to provide some level of sanity to keep him occupied for the short while you had alone.

"He did." Zemo spits the words, his eyes remaining glued to your face, dried blood coating the left side that is hidden in the fur of his coat, tainting the pure white. "I'm going to kill him once my Y/n is awake." He mutters under his breath, not caring if either men hear his comment.

Once they reach Zemo's apartment, the silence between the trio is deafening.

Zemo takes you straight toward his bedroom, knowing you'd prefer privacy rather than being under the watchful eyes of your other friends.

"Oh, little dove," Pulling the silk sheets over your body, Zemo lowers the glass of scotch onto the bedside table alongside a damp towel to clean your blood.

As he presses the towel along your hairline, his free hand cups your face. He brushes his thumb across your cheek, humming a familiar tune.

"This is a nice way to wake up." You mumble, feeling Zemo tense momentarily whilst you keep your eyes closed. "Are the blinds open?"

"Hold on." Zemo moves away from you, taking the warmth with him causing a shiver to ripple through you.

Hiding you from the daylight and the cold reality of the world, darkness coats the walls. "Thanks." You comment, trying to sit upright only to wince and have your arm bat lightly by Zemo's hand.

"Don't move." Zemo instructs, perching on the edge of the bed, his coat thrown across the chair in the corner of the room, hiding the bloodied fur from your view. "You really are stupid sometimes, schatz."

"You really want to have this conversation, now?" Quick to retort, you glare up at your friend, having not forgotten what you witnessed in that warehouse. "It's all gone, isn't it?"

Zemo's prolonged silence answers your question, and he listens to you hum in response.

"Du bist ein idiot, Helmut." You state in German, not missing the tug on the corner of his lips. "But you're my idiot, nonetheless."

Stretching your arm out, you take a hold of his hand, squeezing it three times. "I thought I'd lost you for a moment in there, Y/n." Zemo painfully admits, knowing you were slipping in and out of consciousness.

"I know," You rub your thumb across his knuckles, his hands were always so soft against yours. "but I promise you, Helmut, I'll never go down without a fight."

"I don't want you to fight, Y/n." Zemo sighs heavily. "I just want you to be safe."

Scoffing lightly, you force yourself upright despite Zemo shifting closer. "You can't control that, Helmut." You remind him, having visited him once or twice with some minor injuries from smaller missions with Sam. "Nothing about us is certain, I mean," Trailing off, you can feel the mere thought of the conversation is causing your head to thump.

"Come," Zemo rises to his feet and walks around the bed. "get some rest. We can talk in the morning."

As Zemo approaches the door, you interrupt him. "Helmut, please, don't go." You whimper, faintly seeing him turn back to face you. "I don't want to be alone if I don't have to."

Smiling sadly to himself, Zemo removes his shoes and slides beneath the covers. Within a matter of seconds, he holds you close in his arms, your head resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"I'm not going anywhere, Y/n." Zemo whispers, kissing the top of your head as your eyes close, tears dampening his shirt. "Not when I just got you back."

"You sure about that?" You dare to ask, glancing up to see the faint outline of a sad smile crossing his lips as those dark eyes remain on yours.

"When it comes to you, I'm certain." He mutters, feeling you shift in his arms.

Your breath fans his lips before you softly kiss him. Zemo reacts instantly, his hand moving to cradle your neck as he kisses you back, desperate to not let you go.

Eventually, you both part. "Helmut," You breathe out, only for him to kiss you chastely. "I,"

"Don't say it, Y/n." Zemo hushes, knowing if he heard those three words leave your lips he'll never forgive himself if anything happened to you or him. "Save them for me, okay?"

Nodding in response, you mould back into Zemo, his fingers gliding across your shoulder creating various patterns including love hearts without realising it.

Yet, as you begin to drift off, you hear those three words from him, hoping that one day you can say them in return.

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[the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo]

Fall Into You | Laszlo Kreizler x Reader

Alright my friends. Here is my latest piece of insanity.

It is completely raw and unedited. So, if there are a ton of mistakes, I apologize in advance.

What a whirlwind thing this was. I literally only planned to write the last little bit at the end, that was the entire premise and then 7000 more words came along with it.

-----

This is a partial crossover fic.

TFATWS | The Alienist | Dr. Strange | Loki | universe all mushed together in bits and pieces.

But mostly The Alienist.

Hopefully the characterizations feel okay. Dr. Kreizler and John Moore can be a bit tricky to write and I've never written them before. So, please bear with me on this.

Buckle up. It's going to be a doozy. Kinda.

-----

Word Count: 6,900 - ish

What happens when you wind up 124 years into the past and meet a relative of Baron Helmut Zemo's?

A lot.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It was early evening and you were perched on one of Dr. Kreizler's fine couches, in front of the fireplace, reading a book.

You were waiting for Stevie to drop by and drag you to some musical street performance not terribly far from Dr. Kreizler's residence. Normally, you would have stayed hidden indoors, but you took a liking to the kid when you first met him, and decided you couldn't let him down.

Hopefully Stevie wouldn't drag you out too long, otherwise Dr. Kreizler would start to worry. Although, he would never outright admit to it, but it was the subtle things he did that indicated his concern. Or perhaps it was annoyance. That wouldn't surprise you either. You were loud and very talkative. He'd probably grateful to have to leave his house; so he can finally get some peace and quiet.

Dr. Kreizler always kept to himself and rarely made a display of his feelings to anyone, but you were a good friend of his in the short time you had come to know him. So, you got little peeks into what lay hidden away.

He was gracious enough to allow you stay in his home until you could figure out a way to get back to your own time. One minute you were talking to Wong inside Dr. Strange's sanctum in New York, and the next a portal opened up underneath you and you were falling.

After travelling through an empty void that seemed to go on forever, you finally exited through the other side, which landed you in front of a police precinct. You had looked around after picking yourself up and realized you were in quite the pickle. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this was not your New York.

People were starting to stare at as you took in your surroundings. You initially thought it was because you had randomly fallen out of the sky, but realization had dawned on you; it was because of your clothing.

Ah, yes. You suppose compared to what all the other women were wearing, you were a sight to behold. Jeans, a forest green blouse, and short brown leather jacket, would draw some attention, when all the other women were dressed so conservatively in dresses. You laughed nervously backing away from the small crowd on the sidewalk. You calmly but quickly darted over to a newsie holding up a paper for sale.

You paid the kid a dollar and snatched the paper out of his hand. Not paying attention in the least to his shouts of joy on making so much off of one measly paper, but you were too focused on finding out what time period you were in.

You caught the date at the top of the newspaper: April 1st, 1897.

April Fool's Day.

Typical, something like this would happen to you. Joke's on them, as someone is going to have a hell of time trying to figure out where you went. You're quite sure Wong was trying to sort through what happened and had already calling Strange.

Well, you hope he had.

You put down the paper and tried to think of what to do, but a small crowd of people were still stopped and whispering to each other, pointing in your general direction.

One man was gesturing in your direction and started shouting, but not at you.

"Hey Kreizler, this one looks like a crazy. Should probably haul her off to Bellevue!"

You raised your eyebrow at the man, but didn't say anything, instead choosing to turn and see who he was yelling at.

A very well dressed man wearing a bowler hat was walking down the steps of the police precinct in a rushed sort of manner. He had a cane with him, and it appeared his right arm was tucked against his body as if protecting it. A few steps behind him there was another man darting to catch up with him, also well dressed and carrying what seemed to be a sketchbook.

The guy on the street had yelled at the gentleman in the bowler hat again, which you had assumed at this point was Dr. Kreizler. As the two men reached the bottom of the steps and were about to step into their carriage, the incessant yelling had managed to grab Kreizler's attention. At least it seemed so, because the man with the cane had paused and turned his attention towards the direction of the yelling.

You could see from his body language he wasn't all that interested, but when his eye-line landed on you, he backed away from getting inside.

The other gentleman that was accompanying him, the one with the sketchbook, said something to him, but Dr. Kreizler just waved him off as he started to walk over to you.

Great.

You look over to the rude gentleman that had now drawn even more attention to you and gave him an unappreciative stare.

You steeled yourself, ready for whatever this stranger was going to say to you, but your guard had dropped slightly upon getting a better look at his face.

No way.

This was not possible.

The man that had come over to you was the spitting image of one genius, criminal mastermind and general pain in your ass, you knew all too well. One who's currently locked up in The Raft.

If it wasn't for the beard, you'd swear you were looking at Baron Helmut Zemo.

As Dr. Kreizler stopped a few feet from you, he tilted his head to the side and eyed you warily, but not unkindly.

That head tilt, a family trait for sure. Zemo had to be some distant relative of this man in some way, there's no chance they aren't with how closely the two resemble each other. She'd have to make a trip to The Raft and ask him about it sometime, if she ever got back home.

"My dear, you seem out of sorts. Are you alright?" the man inquired, gazing at the small gathering of people and then back to you.

"I kinda stick out like a sore thumb, yeah?" You laughed as you answer his question, peering down at your outfit.

"Quite," he replied.

You saw while he may be cautious around you, you've seem to grab his interest with the scrutiny and intensity of his gaze.

"If I may introduce myself, my name is Doctor Laszlo Kreizler," the gentleman stated.

Ah, so this was indeed the man who was being called out from the street. You noticed he didn't extend his hand in greeting, but then again perhaps it wasn't a pertinent gesture for the time period either. So, you didn't take offense to it.

Your eyeline moved behind Dr. Kreizler and could see his friend at the carriage watching with interest, but also growing impatience.

You gave a kind smile as you introduced yourself and added, "Thank you for humoring the nosy man over there, but I'm not in need of a doctor. I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your day."

"Not in the least. And I may be a doctor, but I am an alienist more specifically," Kreizler explained.

Your eyebrows shot into your forehead and then contemplated his title. An alienist? Where had you heard that before? If you remembered correctly, an alienist was someone who assessed individuals for competence?

Oh.

The shouty man had mentioned Bellevue. Okay, now you understood.

"An alienist! That term is...." you paused trying to think of a better way to phrase you response. "The term is outdated where I'm from. Instead we simply acknowledge your specific doctorate profession as psychologists, since the very definition of what you do is to study the mind and behavior of individuals," you answered, satisfied with your explanation.

"Outdated. How intriguing. Perhaps we could continue this conversation away from prying eyes and gossipy busy-bodies?" Kreizler asked.

You wouldn't be able to read it on his face, but you can tell you've piqued his interest even more so now with his body language. And his eyes had this sparkle in them as you spoke of his profession so specifically.

Though you felt you could trust this man, you couldn't take the chance that he might, in fact, lure you into his carriage and ship you off to the nearest mental institution, such as Bellevue Hospital.

You'd be lying if you weren't equally intrigued by this enigma of a man standing before you. The resemblance to Baron Zemo was uncanny, and that alone made you want to find out more about him; however, Zemo was not to be trusted as far as you could throw him. Though he did have his moments. You'd give him some credit. Doesn't mean distrustful behavior runs in the family, but it also could. It was a difficult decision.

Your eyes narrowed assessing Dr. Kreizler as you came to decision.

"Shouldn't you give me a mental health assessment test before asking a complete stranger to travel off to who knows where with you? Why shouldn't I be suspicious you aren't going to drop me off at the nearest institute? No offense," you replied warily.

"Thank you!" the man with the sketchbook at the carriage shouted at both you and Dr. Kreizler, clearly in agreement with your answer.

You snickered at his sarcastic reply, but attempted to cover your ever growing smile by coughing.

The corner of Dr. Kreizler's mouth ticked up in a smile as well.

"No my dear, if anything you've just proven you're at least slightly more sane than my counterpart, Mr. John Moore," Dr. Kreizler shook his head and jutted his thumb behind him.

"Heard that Laszlo!" Moore responded with indignation.

"That was the point John," Dr. Kreizler answered back with dry wit.

Yeah, she liked him already.

"Shall we?" Kreizler turned slightly to gesture to his carriage.

You sighed internally. Why the hell not? You had nothing better to do and no idea what your next move should be trying to get home. Dr. Kreizler would no doubt be curious about your attire and that alone with most likely bring up a slew of never ending questions. You'd have to be careful how to explain your situation and make sure what you revealed was limited, but truthful. You wanted to tell him the truth about where you were from, but you needed to word it in a way that doesn't make you out to be a crazy person, but present the information with facts and evidence that Dr. Kreizler could not refute. Luckily you had some tech with you that could prove your point rather efficiently should the need arise you convince him of what time period you come from in the future. 124 years it a length period of time. It would be difficult for anyone to accept your explanation, but Dr. Kreizler seemed to be different. Let's hope you aren't wrong about him.

"I accept your offer Dr. Kreizler, thank you," you spoke kindly.

You were formally introduced to Mr. Moore and to Stevie before getting in the carriage. Mr. Moore seemed uneasy, but went along with Dr. Kreizler's acceptance of you. He was a trusting friend of his, you could tell right away. And something told you, Dr. Kreizler was a tough nut to crack and didn't seem to be the type of person who might have very many. Only a close few.

"What made you decide to take Dr. Kreizler up on his offer so quickly," Moore asked standing outside the carriage as Stevie was getting the horses ready.

Dr. Kreizler had held the door open for you and waited patiently.

You looked at Dr. Kreizler before turning back to Mr. Moore, "You mean besides his sparkling personality?" you winked and got in the carriage.

John leaned into Kreizler before adjusting his hold on his sketchbook and climbing into the carriage himself.

"Oh, well I like her already Laszlo," he grinned incessantly and gave Kreizler a clap on the back.

You saw Dr. Kreizler bend his head down in amused exasperation as a small huff of laughter sounded with the movement. He sighed somewhat dramatically before getting in the carriage and closing the door.

"You know, I've never actually ridden in one of these before," you say slightly awed.

Both Moore and Kreizler gave you confusing looks before Dr. Kreizler used his cane to tap on the rear enclosure signaling Stevie to head home.

Home. Well, this should be interesting indeed.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You closed your book with a snap and slumped into the couch you were perched on. It had been six months, since that day. Six months, you've been trapped in this pocket of 1897.

You had reflected back on how well John and Dr. Kreizler had taken the explanation you were from the future. As you told your story, your only requirement was that they wait until the very end before asking any questions. That gave you the chance to be very methodical about how you explained the future and how it was you ended up in 1897, which to be fair, you don't know exactly how that portal opened still, but magic was involved to say the very least.

It was oddly reminiscent of when Loki used the space stone, which gave her pause. All the infinity stones had been destroyed, and yet you knew that there was an errant 2012 Loki running around the universe with one. It is plausible, he could factor into this, but how or why you, you have no idea.

After you had explained your fanatical circumstance, to help prove you weren't absolutely off your rocker and have Dr. Kreizler change his mind about you, you showed them your phone.

Yes, there may not be any service available, but you could still access all your photos and videos and holographic imagery, etc. That was what allowed John and Dr. Kreizler to accept your story; paired with your unique clothes; they had a surprisingly open mind. John had gaped like a fish for a good 10 minutes before Dr. Kreizler told him to get over it already. John was somewhat outraged that he wasn't more shocked by your existence. But like all things, Dr. Kreizler took everything in stride, which was quite a relief to you. He was incredibly understanding and offered a room in his home to you until you were able to get back to your own time. You made a promise to Dr. Kreizler that you would never lie to him, about anything. It was the least you could do since he opened up his home and essentially part of his life to you.

You understood why he was an expert in his field. His patience and intellect allowed him to be open-minded and grasp concepts others word merely scoff at. However, there was another side to that coin; he was also closed off, and could at times, be calculating and manipulative. Though, none of these traits were used in any nefarious manners, they were there all the same.

He reminded you of Zemo to be sure in this regard. Some personality traits apparently do get passed down through the generations. In some ways, after meeting Dr. Kreizler, you felt you knew Helmut Zemo a bit better. And somehow, you missed him. Not that you were ever particularly close to him, but the time you spent with him in Latvia with Sam and Bucky forever altered your opinion of him.

So while you've been living at Dr. Kreizler's residence, in your spare time, you had been working different avenues of how to achieve ways to get home. You couldn't just solely rely on your friends to get you out of this mess. So, while Dr. Kreizler was at work, you enlisted the help of Stevie to run down leads of potential scientist and gathering of general information of the time period to help you put together some sort of road map. None had turned out to be very promising.

You had, over time, gotten more acclimated to living in 1897, though you mostly refused to wear the clothing of the time period. John Moore would always comment about how you would draw attention in the public eye, should you dare to go out. But you refused to give in most of the time, saying that 1897 would just have to catch up to your fashion sense, and you weren't about to apologize for it. If you were going to be stuck here, you were going to be stuck here, comfortably. You fondly remember Dr. Kreizler's reaction. He seemed pleased, possibly proud of you in that moment. Probably because you had refused to conform to the times, and set your own rules to live by. Not giving in to anyone.

The question lingered, how exactly did you get away with living in this time without having to dress in the clothing of the period? Well, a friend of yours, Scott Lang, had gifted you a device that allowed you to chose one object to shrink and return to it's normal size. So, of course, since you traveled so often with the Sam, Bucky and the other Avengers, you chose your wardrobe. You were just thankful you had it on you already when you got dumped into that portal. So, essentially you had all your clothes with you, making things a bit easier.

Life was not fast paced here, which made things a bit difficult for you. You were used to always being on the go, another crisis to fight through, another area of the world that needed help. But here, here everything was, for the most part, quiet.

It drove you nuts sometimes. Made you antsy. You managed to weasel your way into helping John, Sara and Dr. Kreizler on one of their serial killer cases recently to pass the time. Dr. Kreizler was unhappy at first. You were able to prove your usefulness though with advanced techniques and theories on how to potentially catch the killer in question. Be that as it may, Dr. Kreizler still seemed grumpy, if that were the correct word to use, about you working on the case. You confronted him about it one evening, but he glossed over the whole thing. He was holding back, but what that was, you weren't sure. Maybe he still didn't fully trust you yet. It was a fair assumption, but he was always so hard to read. Though you've managed to get a few good laughs out of him from time to time. Those were the days that really made you smile. Seeing him happy, as most of the time he was always so guarded. It made you feel like you and Dr. Kreizler shared this little secret when no one else was around.

Dr. Kreizler let himself relax ever so slightly around you, but it was far and fleeting. On rare occasions. You savored all those memories and tucked them away. Everyone was so refined and conservative in their mannerisms. You missed just wanting to hug someone. You craved some sort of physical affection, and it was hard, realizing just how different the times were from the future. They weren't terrible by any means, but the social norms of the times had been trying on you, to say the very least. Dr. Kreizler, ever astute, had picked up on this.

He had been gracious enough to offer himself if you ever needed to hug someone. This had been roughly 4 months into your stay at Dr. Kreizler's. You both had gotten more comfortable around the other, and even had a routine of sorts. You had thanked him for his offer, and told him you would not abuse the privilege he had bestowed on you.

Something told her there was more to it, but you hadn't dwelled on it, you were simply appreciative of his friendship.

However more recently, it was more than just friendship you felt. You kept squashing your feelings down, telling yourself this was the worst possible time to develop feelings for someone. Especially someone like Dr. Kreizler. There would never be a happy ending. At some point, you would return home, and that would be that. But there was that nagging sensation in the back of your mind, reminding you, you might not ever get back home. You tried to reason to yourself that you were possibly transferring some of your fondness of Zemo to Dr. Kreizler because of how he reminds you of him. But then you were just lying to yourself. Dr. Kreizler was a person all on his own and one of a kind. You knew better, you were just fighting yourself tooth and nail to live in denial a bit longer.

Footsteps from the kitchen were headed in your direction knocking you out of your musings.

You twisted on the couch to see Dr. Kreizler had returned home from his institute.

"Dr. Kreizler! Good evening," you voiced into the low lit parlor room.

"Good evening to you as well, I trust your day was fruitful?" Dr. Kreizler inquired, coming to rest on the opposite end of the couch.

"It was, thank you. I was somewhat restless earlier, so I took it upon myself to work on the cryptogram the killer left his last victim, with the hopes of figuring out his next location before he strikes," you sheepishly stated.

Dr. Kreizler ruefully smiled at you and shook his head. At one time, he might have gotten upset, but he had been taking your antics more in stride, and you managed to be helpful providing much needed information. So, he'd act unhappy, but silently was thrilled.

"And did you uncover anything useful?" Kreizler queried, he got up from his seat and walked over to the chalk board.

"Not completely, I believe I've broken the code word and the book that the killer has been using to write his cryptograms, but I have yet to comb through all the evidence to gather the page numbers, line and word number to crack the full message. I planned on working on it when I got back with Stevie later this evening," you happily expressed while fidgeting with the watch on your wrist.

"Impressive work. And what book has our killer been using?" Kreizler asked, eyes still going over the work on the board.

"Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. You'd think we could have figured that one out sooner given our killer's eclectic methods of murdering people," you answered sarcastically.

Dr. Kreizler bent his knees in utter annoyance, "Of course it is. Of course. How ridiculous to have missed such an obvious choice."

You smiled knowingly. He was irritated he hadn't figured it out sooner.

A companionable silence continued for a few minutes after his outburst.

Dr. Kreizler was still staring at the board with mild interest when he spoke next, "May I ask you a personal question?"

You had just reached over to place the book on the coffee table next to you when he asked his question and you froze mid motion.

Dr. Kreizler generally didn't push too much into your personal life, so this was somewhat out of left field for him. Never-the-less, you recovered after a beat and placed the book on the table.

"Of-of course Dr. Kreizler. I told you I would always be truthful with you regarding anything. Please, go ahead," you answered, motioning for him to continue.

"Why do you always regard me as Dr. Kreizler and not by my first name?" he questioned softly, almost hesitantly.

This was not the question you thought he would ask. There were a million questions he could have chose, but it was this one he went with.

This really was personal.

You glanced down at your hands sitting in your lap as you pondered how to answer his questions. You could lie about it, and he'd be none the wiser, but it's not who you are. And you promised.

Dr. Kreizler went on to further express his inquiry with a bit more confidence, "You call John Moore by his first name and the same with Ms. Howard, including our other friends we work with, but not me. Why?"

You opened your mouth to answer him when the front door slammed open and Stevie came barging in.

"You ready?" he exclaimed loudly. Stevie was clearly excited at the prospect of showing off his musical talent. "Oh, excuse me Dr. Kreizler, I didn't realize you'd gotten home yet. Thought you were working late," Stevie took off his hat and looked sheepish as he apologized for the disruption in his home.

You sighed. This was your saving grace. You could probably make an excuse and make a run for it with Stevie. You mulled over what to do, battling with the decision.

"Hey Stevie. Nice to see you too! Go on outside, I'll be right there. I just need to put my coat on," you laugh at his enthusiasm.

He nodded at you and dashed back down the hallway and out the door. You could hear one last shout as he exited, "Okay, but don't be too long, we're going to be late!"

Dr. Kreizler gave a look of displeasure at Stevie's unrefined outburst, but didn't say anything as he knows his antics all too well from over the years.

You stood up grabbing Dr. Kreizler's attention.

"Walk me to the door?" you ask, jutting your head in the direction of where your coat hangs.

"Do you plan on providing me with an answer?" he kindly jabbed as he nodded his agreement to follow you out.

You outwardly sighed, trying to figure out how to best answer his question. As you both walked to the front door, you start to answer him.

"Okay, so I address you as Dr. Kreizler 33% of the time, because you deserve the respect that comes with that title. You went to school for many years, and you earned it. So, it's only fair to address you as such," you tell him confidently.

A completely reasonable and partial explanation, you thought.

You both reached the front door, and you grabbed your jacket. Dr. Kreizler, the gentleman that he is, assisted you in putting your coat on. You gave yourself a once over in the mirror, making sure you looked okay before heading out.

You caught Dr. Kreizler staring at you in the mirror as you adjusted a stray hair that had fallen onto your face.

"You look lovely," he quietly voiced.

You turned to face him as he had opened the door for you and stepped outside.

"Thank you," you said, a bit bashful by his sudden compliment.

His expression had gotten softer and his eyes were glowing in the evening lit night.

Your resolve was crumbling even more so now.

"And the other 67%?" Kreizler softly spoke, head cocked to the side.

"Hey - Miss! We need to be going!" Stevie cried.

You turned to Stevie and hollered, "One mo, Stevie! Don't lose your head!"

"I'm sorry I have to go otherwise Stevie is going to have a coronary," you apologized to Dr. Kreizler.

You walked down a few steps, but stopped. You couldn't not answer him.

You go up a step but not completely back to where you where standing in front of Dr. Kreizler. You inhaled a deep breath and exhaled before continuing, looking up to see Dr. Kreizler eyeing you with slight confusion and anticipation with your hesitance to answer his question in full.

"And the other 67% of the time, I call you Dr. Kreizler because..because," you drifted off closing your eyes. You open them again with quiet resolve shining through, finding your confidence. You take another step up to now stand just a foot away from where Dr. Kreizler was.

"Because, I love you Laszlo. And I use your professional title as a barrier, to - to remind myself I have boundaries. It's just easier to separate you this way or well, to keep myself living in denial," you quietly and defeatedly said, laying it all out for him.

You wanted to open your mouth to say something else to him, to let him know it was okay he didn't feel the same way, but you could never quite form the words that needed to come out.

The shock was written clearly on his face. You had completely gob-smacked this man. His eyes had widened considerably and his jaw had gone slack from your answer.

But he never said anything back. You weren't expecting him to.

So instead, you did what you did best. Ran.

"You've got your answer. I-I really have to go now, I'll see you later," you stuttered out, suddenly drained from your revelation.

You took one last glance at Dr. Kreizler before making a mad dash for it with Stevie.

You were gone before Dr. Kreizler recovered from what just happened. And you never got to see the expression on his face after.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[valwentinefics]

Altruism ch.6 - Zemo x F!Reader x Bucky

A/n: Laptop broke, got new one. This one flips around 360 and has a pen which is kinda cool for drawing!

Series Masterlist

Y/n walked at a quick pace down the streets of Riga. Although she healed at an accelerated rate, she could still feel the dulled pain of her broken knuckle pulsing with every step she took. She didn’t know where she was going, but she didn’t care. She just had to get away from it all, she needed a moment to breathe and collect her thoughts. A moment to think about what the fuck she had just done.

Y/n punched Bucky. Her best friend, Bucky… whose face broke a knuckle. Sure he deserved it, and maybe she did too, but she didn’t realize she had it in her to do that. 

Her non-injured hand shook as she thought about what Zemo had told her, her pace speeding up to distance herself even further from the super soldier. How dare he boil her down to nothing but a peacemaker whose loyalty is spotty enough to switch sides like flipping a coin. The conversation they had before she left reappeared in her mind, leaving a sour taste on her tongue.

Bucky’s hand went to his cheekbone, touching the spot where Y/n’s fist came in contact with his skin. Although he seemed physically unaffected, unlike Y/n who was cradling her hand with tears in her eyes, his face bore a mix of confusion and remorse. The tension in the air was thick, even Sam who was usually able to solve any conflict opted to stay silent and stand by Zemo, who was watching intently with a slightly tilted head.

“Y/n… are you okay? What was that for?” Bucky asked, taking a step forward and reaching out his flesh hand to grab Y/n’s hurt one.

“Am I okay? Am I okay? Of course I’m not okay! You didn’t tell me Zemo lost everything ! Why would you hide something so important!” Y/n shouted, stepping back and out of Bucky’s reach.

Realization hit Bucky hard, his eyes widening. “Look, Y/n, It’s going to sound bad but...”

“But what, James?” Y/n narrowed her eyes.

“Well… you know how you are about Sokovia… If you knew Zemo was Sokovian you would have let your guard down and--”

“And what? Betray you?” Y/n let out a shocked laugh, running her uninjured hand through her hair. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m some traitor? After everything I’ve done?” 

“What? No! Well at first… but not anymore!”

“You’re un-fucking-believable! You know what? I’m sick of this, I can’t look at you right now.” Y/n ripped her jacket off its spot on the couch and shrugged it on, ignoring Bucky’s pleas for forgiveness as she walked out the door, slamming it behind her.

Y/n found herself sitting down on a cool metal bench in the park, the pain in her fist subsiding to just a dull ache. She wasn’t aware of how she had ended up here, her body having been on autopilot as her mind wandered to her and Bucky’s altercation. She was glad she ended up in this park though. The spring breeze wasn’t too much for her light jacket, and the way the tree branches swayed almost calmed her down. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply to try to further compose herself.

“Sleeping in a park or just resting your eyes?” A man’s voice interrupted her moment, making her open her eyes.

“Lemar, right?” Y/n asked tentatively, not sure if it was the right name for the man that stood before her. She had only seen him once, on tv, and she hadn’t been paying attention.

The man nodded. “Can I sit down?” 

Y/n stared at him for a few moments, confused as to what was going on. What did he want from her? Although she would have preferred to be alone, Y/n scooted over to make room for him as a silent way of saying yes. 

“I thought I’d talk to you while John is busy. He wanted to do it first, but he doesn’t have the best people skills, although his heart is in the right place.”  Lemar said, taking a seat beside Y/n. 

“If you’re trying to ask me to talk to Bucky for you guys, It’s not happening. We aren’t talking.” She said quickly, hoping he wouldn’t ask her to explain.

“Actually, it’s about that. John and I weren’t spying on you, I promise you that, but we were scoping out the hideout Zemo brought you guys to for potential threats so we could go and negotiate with your group when we heard what happened. We were thinking that maybe you could be convinced to work with us.”

Y/n hesitated. From what Bucky had told her, John Walker was frankly a dick who she shouldn’t associate herself with, but at the same time Bucky had thought she was a traitor. She didn’t know what to think.

“Why do you want me to help you out? I don’t fight, I’m virtually useless.” Y/n asked carefully, wondering what their motive was.

“You’re more useful than you think.” A voice approached. Y/n looked over to see a vaguely familiar muscular blonde man approaching. She could recognize the suit that fit him like a second skin anywhere.

“Mr. Walker.” Y/n greeted quickly, looking at the man with wide eyes. She examined the man before her closely. He was muscular, but not to the same degree as Steve was. Objectively he was also handsome, although Y/n had to admit her type was more tall, dark haired, and intelligent men, not blonde and already taken ones.

“Call me John,” He reached out a hand for Y/n to shake and she took it, looking into his ocean blue eyes with confusion about the whole situation. “You seem confused. You see, me and Lemar are new to all of this, we figured it would be wise to get someone more experienced on our team, and you seem like the person who is most willing to cooperate with us, after all you were close with Steve Rogers.”

Y/n almost cringed at the last part when he mentioned her connection to Steve. She was sure he didn’t mean to openly imply that he was Steve’s replacement and that he should be treated the same as Steve was by his friends, he just seemed a little tone deaf and eager to please the avengers, it was as if he needed their acceptance for his own sake. Y/n let out a soft exhale.

“I’d be willing to help you on some conditions. I don’t have to fight the flag smashers, and you don’t kill them. They’re just people looking for a place in this world like everyone else after the snap, yes they deserve punishment after they killed those people, but they don’t deserve to die.” Y/n stated her terms after a few moments of deliberation. 

Lemar and John shared a look, seeming to be close enough to speak to each other through their glance instead of out loud. After a pause, John cleared his throat. “Alright Y/n. Welcome to the team.”

---

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[azaleavi]

Woman Like Me Part 2 - Bucky Barnes

Summary: y/n gets to talk to the person who gave her the serum and the others learn more about her

Set in the second half of episode 3 of tfatws

Warning(s): a little violence nothing too strong

Word count: 2.5K

Author’s Note: Part 2 is finally here! Thank you so much for loving part 1, i didn’t expect so many people to like it! I’m actually pretty proud of this part and i would love to write a part 3 and actually make this a series if you like it so give me feedback or tell me what you would like to see in the next part. Thank you!

Part 1

“Okay I have clients coming in a few minutes so enjoy the party and stay out of trouble” Sharon stands up, walking out of the room.

“Trouble” Zemo holds up his glass of whiskey.

“I think we should change” y/n looks at the clothes hanging by the wall, noting that they are still wearing their combat clothes. She can see multiple dresses but there are men’s clothes as well.

They all change out of their older clothes, the men giving y/n space to do it. She chose a simple black dress, appropriate for a party and she looks mesmerising. Bucky couldn’t see with the tactical gear on but she has a really nice figure which makes him stare at her a little longer than he should. Sam notices and decides to speak up.

“You clean up nice y/n” he smiles at her. This shakes Bucky out of his staring, realising what he was doing.

“Thanks. I’ve never really wore something like this before… you know with the whole Harcos thing and all” she shows a small smile.

“By the way, what language is that? I’ve never heard it before” Sam furrows his eyebrows, confused.

“Oh, it’s Hungarian, it means warrior” she rolls her eyes, clearly not amused by the name “I’m hungarian so I guess they thought it was fitting”

“Ah Hungary, what a nice place” Zemo speaks up “nice people too”

“If misogyny, racism and homophobia is nice to you I guess you’re right” y/n sends a sarcastic smile to him.

“We should go up into the party” Bucky intervenes before the conversation can escalate.

“Won’t people recognise you?” Sam asks y/n.

“Nah, I had a mask when I was forced to do the things I did. Not many people got to see my face and lived to tell about it” Bucky shudders, knowing exactly what she was talking about. Sam nods, holding the door open for her “thank you Sam”

The party is already in full swing, groups of people dancing to the music and others looking at the artwork that is displayed across the room. The three men with y/n walk over to the bar, trying to not bring any attention to themselves. They order drinks while waiting for Sharon to get the information. Bucky catches y/n looking at him from where she is sitting. He lifts his eyebrows in question.

“What are you looking at?” he shouts over the loud music.

“You” she is teasing him. He knows it, but that doesn’t mean he can’t play along with her.

“And what about me is so interesting that it got you looking at me instead of the party that’s happening around you?” Bucky tilts his head.

”That will be my secret” she winks at him. Bucky feels like he can’t breath for a second. She suddenly drowns her drink in one swift motion and stands up “I’m assuming you don’t want to dance with me” she grins.

“How can you even dance to music like this?” he asks, genuinely confused. The music back in his days was much better and what they did was actually dancing and not this… thing they are doing now. She looks away laughing. Her eyes catch something that makes her laugh even more.

“I think you should ask Zemo about that” she points at the man showing rather questionable dance moves. Bucky looks at him barely being able to hold his own laughter “well I’ll go mingle with the prime citizens of Madripoor” she does a small wave with her hand, walking away. Bucky watches her leave and doesn’t take his eyes off of her until she disappears in the crowd.

“Does our cyborg man have a crush?” Sam speaks up, having watched the whole interaction between them. Bucky whips his head in his direction, just realising that the other man was there the whole time.

“Definitely not” he answers “we were just talking”

“Talking? Sounded awful lot like flirting to me” Sam grins, making fun of the older man.

“We were not flirting” Bucky shakes his head and looks away to watch the crowd again. Sam only smiles to himself and stops pushing because Sharon appears next to them.

Y/N walks through the dancing people, just looking around and trying to absorb everything. She has never been to a party before, at least not while she was in control of her actions. She caught sight of Zemo again, who was still dancing. It was weird to see the very dangerous criminal just tearing it up on the dance floor. Suddenly someone grabs her hand from behind and turns her around. She almost hits the stranger in the head, but she quickly realises that it’s Bucky holding her. The crowd around them continues dancing, not paying any mind to the two super-soldiers standing among them.

“Hi” she smiles at him. They are standing so close to each other that their chests are almost touching and he is still holding her hands to his chest. Y/n has to tilt her head up so she can look in his eyes. She’s never been this close to a man before that wasn’t during a fight or in a threatening situation. She decides she likes it. Y/n doesn’t know if it’s because it’s Bucky who’s here with her or she would feel like this with any man, but she suddenly gets the urge to stand on her tiptoes and press her lips to his “You came here to dance with me?” she jokingly asks to get the image out of her head.

“You will have to wait for another party for that, Sharon got the information we need so we have to go” Bucky looks into her eyes his pupils slightly dilated, almost as if he was thinking the same thing. He starts lightly pulling her along, out of the crowd.

The next morning they are walking through the containers looking for the one that has Dr. Nagel in it.

“Okay this is the one” Sharon stops them in front a container. She hands them earpieces. Y/n feels a little nervous about meeting the man who turned her into what she is today. Bucky notices her fidgeting and puts his hand on her shoulder to reassure her. She gives him a small smile, grateful that he is here for her. She is wearing the same tactical gear she did when they first met which, crazy enough, was only yesterday. They walk through the door only to find it completely empty. Sam asks Sharon if she is sure it’s the right one and she tells them that it has to be. Zemo walks to the end of it and pushes only to find a hidden door.

“Fancy” y/n remarks, walking through it after Sam. They walk up the stairs and find a lab with music playing from a record player. Sam takes the needle off the record. Nagel turns around, scared.

“Dr. Nagel? We know you created the super-soldier serum” Sam says calmly.

“Get out of my lab” Nagel starts walking towards the door, but then sees Y/n standing there with a gun in her hand. The anger in her eyes is enough to stop him “Harcos” he says and she grits her teeth together.

“Do not call me that” she tries to stay calm.

“Jelentsd a feladatod, Harcos” he starts talking in Hungarian. State your mission, Warrior. She falters for a second, not having heard her language in a while. Selby only talked to her in English. Bucky looks at her worried as she points her gun at Nagel and takes the safety off.

“Az nem fog megtörténni” she answers. Not gonna happen. Sam looks between them, also worried for her. He thinks they shouldn’t have brought her with them, they didn’t think this through. What if Nagel knows the words and uses her against them? “Now why don’t you tell us about the serum you’re working on?” she switches back to English and pushes him back into a chair, her gun still pointed at him.

“I was brought into Hydra’s Winger Soldier program to pick up their work” he starts talking “after that I was recruited by the CIA. They had a blood sample that had semi-stable traces of serum in it” he looks at y/n who is still pointing her gun at him but this time he doesn’t cower in fear “after much labour, I was able to isolate the necessary compounds in it and that’s when I made her. The only successful outcome from over 40 tries” he stops for a second and Bucky can see a hint of something in his eyes. Before he can pin point what it is Nagel speaks again “Tizenhét” he says suddenly and y/n is immediately in front of him with her gun under his chin. Seventeen. The look in her eyes show that she is ready to kill.

“Say another word and you get a bullet in your head” she says through her teeth trying really hard to not shoot him right then and there.

“What did he say?” Sam asks not understanding the reaction from her.

“What do you call it? Trigger word?” Nagel smiles at her even though his life is on the line. The three men tense at the mention of that. Bucky steps next to her and for a moment she thinks he is going to pull her away but instead he also points his gun at Nagel.

“I will not hesitate” he says gesturing towards his gun.

“Do not worry, I only know the first word” he says, amused, but his eyes seem honest. They think about it for a second but pull their guns away from his head. Bucky looks at her, trying to catch her eyes. She looks back with a very small hint of tears in her eyes. He gets the urge to hug her but he knows he can’t do that right here so he only shows her a small encouraging smile.

“As I said: you try to say something about this and you won’t have time to finish that word” she starts walking away from Nagel “And you didn’t make me”she says as she stands next to a table, referring to his earlier statement “Continue” she orders him. So he does. He tells them about Karli and the woman called Donya Madani. He finishes with details about his serum, how it’s not like the ones before.

“I was a god” Nagel smiles like the crazy person he is “before I turned to dust and then Karli stole it” Y/n feels her angel boil and she lets it loose again.

“You are not a god” she shouts and slams her fist down on the table, a few vials falling down and breaking on the ground. Nagel flinches and tries to make himself smaller in his chair, immediately sensing the danger he is in. She lifts up her hand, realising that the table is now bent and you can see her fist’s outline in it “You are not a god” she repeats a little more calmly, but the anger can still be seen in her eyes “You never were and never will be. You just took in children who had nothing and tried to turn them into your version of the Winter Soldier” Bucky can’t help but feel like it’s his fault that she is in this situation. If the Winter Soldier didn’t exist y/n wouldn’t have had to go through these horrible things. She walks closer to the doctor “We were never asked if we wanted this. You told us it was some vaccine you were giving us and not the serum” while she is talking none of them see Zemo go around and get a gun from under one of the tables.

“Guys we are seriously out of time here” Sharon comes in and as soon as the rest of them don’t pay attention to Nagel, Zemo shoots him. Sam immediately takes the gun from him but it’s too late.

“What did you do?” he shouts at the other man but before he can answer the place blows up sending all of them backwards to the floor. Their ears are ringing and they can barely breathe. Zemo is the first to get up and he leaves them behind. Bucky gets back his senses quickly and searches for the rest to see if they are okay. Y/n is next to him trying to make sense of what happened and being a super-soldier she gets up at the same time as Bucky and helps Sam up while Bucky helps Sharon. They run outside as quickly as they can and realise that they are surrounded by people who are ready to kill them.

“Alright wait for my signal” Bucky speaks up, ready to take lead. Sam doesn’t listen to him and just runs out to take shelter “damn it” they start shooting with their pistols that they got from Sharon. Bucky stands next to y/n as his gun runs out of bullets. The both of them retreat to where Sam and Sharon are with y/n protecting his back.

“I thought we were gonna go left?” Bucky shouts at Sam.

“You went the wrong way” Sam answers, also shouting.

“I was clearing the way”

“I came out first. You were supposed to follow me”

“And where are we now” they go back and forth in the middle of the fight, like an old married couple.

“Can we talk about this later? We are kind of in the middle of something here!” Y/n interrupts them, trying to get them to focus. She and Sharon are still shooting.

“It’s in every action movie” the two men don’t even acknowledge her. Zemo appears on the top of a container in a purple mask and shoots at a pipe that blows up, giving the others enough time to get away. There are still people shooting at them as they run through the alleys. A man appears behind them and y/n kicks him hard enough that he flies across the open space and hits one of the containers. He falls to the ground unconscious. Another woman is in front of them and Bucky rips one of the pipes from the door and impales her with it. Y/n looks at him, impressed.

“You’ll have to teach me that” she grins. Bucky rolls his eyes, grabs her waist and pulls her inside. They punch the door open on the other side and Zemo shows up in a very nice looking car. It’s supercharged he says. Sam is ready to send him back to jail but Bucky reminds him that they need him to find Karli. Y/n agrees so she goes and sits behind Zemo. Bucky gets in the passenger seat while Sam sits next to her. They say goodbye to Sharon and Sam promises her that pardon. Before Zemo starts driving Bucky turns to y/n.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah” she answers with a little smile.

[juliewatt]

When did she ever get to say no (FATWS)

The apartment was dimly lit as she woke up from her nightmare, her past still haunting her even though it had been years ago, she still remembered it as if it was yesterday.

Her body shook from the previous event and sweat covered her body, the bodies, the blood it all still stood clear in her mind as she tried to take steady breaths to calm herself down. Once her body stopped shaking she stood up from the hard floor she called a bed, she didn’t remember having anything that was softer than the floor, she had tried a bed but after an hour she had laid down on the floor finding it more comfortable than the way too soft bed.

She walked to the shower to get the sweat off her and to collect herself more, a shower usually helped calm her body and mind after the nightmares.

After she was done she walked in her living room that was connected to the kitchen, it was a small apartment that had all the necessary stuff she needed, not too big but not too small either.

The city outside her window was alive and the sound of cars driving and people buzzing around put her on edge, she was used to silence, grey monotone walls and only being talked to whenever she was getting an order or in special occasions asked a question.

This world was new to her, she had been out for years but she still feeled uneasy navigating around in the outside world, so she for the most part stayed inside her little apartment watching the news on her television to see what happened outside without actually being there.

The knock on her door made her jump slightly but she quickly composed herself and walked slowly over to her door grabbing a knife on the kitchen counter in case she needed it. She could properly do the same damage without the knife but liked to have it with her for an extra precaution.

There was another knock on her door while she neared it and a voice from the other side “Y/n i-we need your help can you open the door?” She furrowed her eyebrows, the voice sounded familiar but she couldn’t pinpoint it and she didn’t really know or talked to anyone so she was confused to say the least.

She got to the door and peeked through the loophole in the door to get a look of who was outside the door, she stumbled away from the door when she saw who was outside it, it was a face she would recognise anywhere even after all these years and even with the haircut he had gotten. When she had stumbled back she must have made some sort of noise cause the voice outside spoke again “Y/n you alright? Can you open the door?” But she barely heard it, fear cruising through her, she backed farther away from the door she was promised safety when she got free and yet here he was standing in front of her door the man that had dragged back the last time she tried to escape, the winter soldier. Was he here to take her back? No it couldn’t, he never returned from that mission years ago she remembered that clearly, she had heard the guards talk about how they had lost him.

She got back to her senses and grabbed her knife tightly in her hand, took a deep breath and silently walked over to the door, unlocked it and stood back in the shadows, she knew she had no chance of overpowering him he was too strong so she would need to surprise him if she wanted any chance of success.

“I’m going to open the door alright? I just wanna talk” He said while turning the doorknob, she didn’t believe him, how could she the last time he had dragged her back, but she remained silent.

When he had walked in and closed the door behind him, she attacked but he was faster than her and dodged the knife that came for his head, he dodged each attack from her trying to get a hold of her without hurting her or himself in the proces.

She tried her best but in the end he ended up having her in a chokehold against his chest, the knife thrown away she tried to get free but little did it help, he was stronger than her like he always had been. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes and I'm no longer the winter soldier, so please stop. I'm not here to hurt you i just wanna talk” He said while she still tried to get free not believing him. “Lies all they do is lie” she said while she gave him an elbow in the stomach making him release her, she quickly grabbed her knife while he still was doubled over, when he stood again she pointed the knife at his throat glaring at him. For the first time Bucky got a good look at her, she had gotten older since he last had seen, of course she would look older. She had been around 16 when he last had seen her, a child who now had grown to look more like a young woman. “What do you want?” She asked, fear was lingering in her eyes, the knife slightly trembling in her hands she tried her hardest not to but the man in front of her made it hard not to. “I want your help” He started off slowly eyeing her every movement, he could easily overpower her, but he didn’t want to scare her more than he already had done. “I need your help with tracking a few people down, they have created the super soldier serum and i want to stop them, you’re one of the only ones i know that might want to help” He said, she stood staring at him not quite understanding it, he wanted her help?

She slowly lowered the knife and he took a deep breath. Maybe she would actually help him and Sam, he hoped for it but knew that there still might be a long way before she actually said yes to go with them.

“I don’t understand?” She said quietly, still confused with everything, “ you, me and a friend of mine Sam are going to find the people that made the super soldier serum, before it ends up in the wrong hands.” Bucky explained, she knew what he meant by the wrong hands, she had seen the other winter soldiers when they were created and got uncontrollable, no she definitely didn’t want that to happen again. “What do you need my help with?” She asked, still watching him and his every move, in case he should turn against her and try to attack her. “I know you’re a great fighter, we could use that. And you’re probably sick of spending all this time in your apartment.” He was right she was, but what else could she do? She didn’t know anything or anyone outside her apartment, her own mind didn’t allow her to, what if it was them trying to capture her again? She couldn’t risk that not now, not when she was finally free but if she was with James and his so called friend Sam they could protect her right? Make sure she was kept hidden and not thrown back into a cell again.

She relaxed a bit in her body and gave James a small nod, “alright James, where are we going?”

James’s friend Sam was a funny guy, he had seemed a bit distant at first and asked her a bunch of questions, but now he seemed more relaxed and trusted her a bit more than before, it made her relax a bit more towards the stranger.

She currently sat on the backseat of a car as they drove through a city in Germany, on their way to a prison where they were going to talk to a guy called Zemo. She didn’t ask many questions as they drove, she had learned the hard way in her life not to ask questions. “Wait kid, how old are you?” Asked Sam from the driver seat looking at her through the rear mirror, she took a moment to answer she needed to think she had been in cryo a few times, so her actual age didn’t add up with her appearance.

“I think i'm around 22 but i’m not quite sure” she said not quite sure with her answer, Sam took a double take at her in the mirror, “you don’t look like a 22 year old?” he said questionly “I have been on ice a couple of times.” She said quietly, not wanting to talk about her past, Sam got the hint and gave her a nod and a reassuring smile, she returned to look out her window for the rest of the trip.

She found her walking along the two other men in a garage of some sort, she walked behind them not paying much attention to their conversation, but when she suddenly heard shuffling from the other side of the room it immediately grabbed her attention.

A man walked out wearing a guard uniform, “What did you do!?” Sam's voice rang out glaring at James, “we need him!” He stated, Sam ignored him and turned his attention back to the stranger, “you’re going back to prison” “if i may-” The stranger was cut off from both of the other men “No!” She didn’t know who the man was so she couldn’t voice an opinion if she had one, but since it was pretty clear that the two other men didn’t like the stranger she decided she was going to be careful around him.

After everyone had calmed down a bit the stranger began to walk through the garage and explain the plan, not much into detail just what they needed to know for now.

Walking on to the private plane, she felt a bit more uneasy than she had before she had no idea where they were going with this stranger that apparently had a lot of money. She sat beside James across from the stranger where she watched his every move, not wanting anything to come as a surprise for her if went to pull any trick on them. The stranger talked briefly with his butler in a language she didn’t understand, she did notice a strange notebook lying within his other book that he had brought, she flinched when James launched at him, grabbing his throat. Memories came crashing within her and her heartbeat quicked up faster than she liked, flashes of her own hands on people's throats while they begged for mercy ran across her eyes, she closed them and shook her head a few times making them disappear.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book.” Sam said from his seat, she furrowed her eyebrows, who was Steve and why did James have his notebook? Sam and the stranger began to talk about how cool Marvin Gaye was, while James claimed he was more into 40’s music. The stranger began to talk more about the Steve guy and someone named Redskull, she didn’t know who it was so she zoned a bit out of the conversation.

“I’m sorry i don’t think i introduced myself. I’m Baron Zemo” The stranger said making eye contact with her, having a mischief glint in his eyes she nodded at him “y/n” she said plainly not wanting to give out information to the man in front of her. “Ahh Y/n or Plan B as you’re called in your files. I've read about you and your time with hydra, a shame you weren’t with the other soldiers in Siberia when I killed them. “ He said, her blood ran cold with the name of the organization that had held her captured and messed up her mind this much. “ I am not like them” she said, fixing her gaze on him, “are you sure about that? With all the lives you have taken, what makes you more different than them?” He pressed clearly wanting a reaction from her, wanting to see if she was as cruel and cold blooded as described in her files.

She merely glared at him “I’m nothing like them, they liked what they did and did it with freewill and no hesitation. I didn’t, when I got old enough to see what they were doing was wrong, I tried to escape several times but I always got brought back. Each time I got beat up more than the last time, whipped so I wouldn't fight them, programmed my mind so they could control me, so that I wouldn't escape all the time. I tried to get out, I really did, the last time I tried they sent him after me” She said nodding her head to James, continuing to tell her story. “I fought with everything i had learned but he was stronger than me, he dragged me back there, i guess they got tired of me escaping all the time, so they programmed my mind like i had seen they did to him, then put me on ice so they were sure i didn’t tried to run again. It was only when he didn’t get back from a mission i got brought back out again, they made sure they whipped me regularly so i didn’t get a change to return to myself again” She told all three men as they stared at her, Sam and James had sad looking expressions, while Zemo had a glint of fazination on his. “I’m sorry to hear about that. But I can’t help but wonder if your trigger words are the same as his?” Zemo asked and gestured to James beside her, she squinted her eyes at the man in front of her. “I don’t know” she said slowly while looking down thinking, trying to recall anything that might help her, a little smirk made a way onto Zemo’s lips and before anyone had a chance of stopping him the russian word came flowing “Желание” Longing. Her eyes snapped up at him in an instant, her mind betraying her in an instant, it was as if black dots started to fill her mind. But with only one of the words spoken they only covered parts of her mind, she remembered the feeling immediately, her heartbeat quickened up, fear of losing control of herself came crashing upon her. “Shut up” She spat at the man in front of her already halfway lashing herself out of her seat towards him, but James was quick and grabbed her before she had made her way over the table to do what she wanted to do to Zemo.

“Stop that right now! Do you think this is funny?!” James pointed at Zemo, anger radiating off him, the baron merely smiled “ I wanted to test a theory, it seemed like I was correct.” He brushed it off, seeming unbothered by the glaring and heavy breathing girl sitting in front him, he only told where they would be going and what the plan was, but she didn’t hear much of it too distracted in her own mind doing her best to shake away the uncomfortable feeling in her head. She snapped back when she heard her name being said “you James and Y/n will have to become someone you claim as gone.” She knew what that meant she didn’t like it, not after what just had happened, but she couldn’t back out now, she heard James taking a deep breath beside her he clearly didn’t like either.

They were used to doing things they didn’t like to do, only this time they could say no, but when did they ever get to say no.

There will most likely be a part 2

- Julie

[an-obsessed-writer]

Mind Over Matter - Part 2

Summary: Everyone knew the Baron Helmut Zemo, you’d have to be living under a rock to not recognize the name of the ridiculously wealthy royal attending your university. He was the school’s top bachelor, a sophisticated and confident man who obviously was wealthy. That was enough to make any woman at the university swoon, but he was always known to never keep a girl for long. What happens when (Y/N) finds herself meeting him at one of his parties?

A/N: i’ve started watching so many movies with Daniel Bruhl in it! he’s taking up every space in my mind. will i ever update my steve rogers fic? only time will tell. part 3 coming soon if ya’ll enjoy this :)

Word Count: 1.7k

Part One

You couldn’t believe what had just happened between you and Zemo. It was like something was controlling your body, not caring what was happening, only that it needed to happen. His hands lit your skin on fire, so comforting but almost dangerous. His kiss left you yearning for more, but here you were, walking back to your dorm instead of spending the night with the Baron.

Your heels clacked against the pavement, providing some distraction from the drunk classmates goofing off in front of Zemo’s house. You just wanted to get to the comfort of your room and lay in your bed until Wanda came home so you didn’t have to process this entire evening on your own. 

“(Y/N)!” Footsteps came from behind you with an all too familiar voice calling out your name, and you let out a groan. Instead of leaving this night behind, Zemo had to follow you out of the party, and you’d be forced to confront the scene that had just taken place in the lovely mansion you wanted to abandon.

Before you could turn around, Zemo was by your side. His suit jacket had been discarded, leaving his arms even more noticeable under his white button-up. There were a few stray hairs clung to his forehead, no doubt from the partying, but Zemo’s face was full of concern rather than a carefree college student.

“Are you okay?” His voice was soft, making you release the tension from your shoulders, and you looked at him confused. “You left in a hurry, I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he elaborated.

“I’m fine, Zemo. I’m just ready to call it a night,” you say with a pained smile. 

“Please, call me Helmut.” 

“So any girl that makes out with you can call you Helmut?” A joking tone took over your voice, and your mind still couldn’t understand the effect this man had on you.

“Precisely,” he responded with a chuckle before he continued. “But seriously, I had no intentions of making you uncomfortable, and I apologize if I overstepped.” 

Your smile became more sincere, and you looked down at the ground before responding, “I’m okay, Zemo. I’m just ready to go back to my dorm.”

With a defeated look on his face, Zemo simply nodded, “At least let me walk you back, it’s late and Wanda is still with Vision.”

Your eyes went wide with surprise. It wasn’t easy forgetting about this man, but you’re not entirely sure if you would want to forget about him. His accent and his manners left your head in a spin, and that’s without even thinking about his attractiveness in this moment. The hair that you were able to run your hands through not too long ago clung to his forehead, his cheeks slightly rosy due to the alcohol, and his puppy dog eyes were almost too much to handle. Too hard to say no to.

“Fine,” you conceded, “but you’re carrying my heels.”

“Naturally.” Zemo’s smile showed you a different man than you had ever seen on campus. It wasn’t unusual to see him remaining stoic and unbothered at the library during his studies, nor was it unusual to see him looking constantly formal. Zemo’s messy appearance showed his casual side, making him seem almost more domestic in your eyes. 

With a sigh, you hand over the heels that you’ve been carrying and start the journey back to your dorms. 

It remained quiet for a few minutes, allowing yourself to glance at Zemo whenever given the opportunity, only to find that he was constantly looking at you. A blush crept up to your cheeks as you realize this, and you shake your head as a way to ground yourself back to reality.

“This is the Baron Helmut Zemo,” you thought. “He doesn’t pine after women, women pine after him. Get a grip.”

Yet here he was walking you back to your dorm in order to ensure you arrived safely. 

“May I ask you a personal question?” There Zemo was again, making even a simple inquiry as formal as possible. Is this the European manners or simply how he was trained when he was young?

“You may.”

“Why do you not go out much?” Zemo stared at you curiously, his eyes narrowing slightly at his own question.

“I’ve… got many plans for myself. Men aren’t a part of that plan,” you explain, sending a look over to the man next to you before continuing. “My plan is school first, life second.”

“What’s the point of living if you are not having fun during it? University is a big deal in many cultures, it’s the time people find themselves and experiment.”

A small smile spread across your face, “Do you just like to be poetic randomly, Mr. Baron?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. “Only when it’s fitting,” Zemo says with a wink.

“I can’t afford to get distracted. Unlike others, I have no back-up plan. This is what I’m doing, this is what I’m going to do. Thankfully, I’ve been able to get enough scholarships to scrape by, but I have to work to keep them.” You answer honestly, feeling almost completely bare due to the intimate conversation, but his presence had a calming effect.

Zemo only nodded and furrowed his eyebrows, signaling that he was in deep thought. He’d stay like that for the remainder of the walk, making you nervous that you may have done something wrong to offend him, but you chose not to voice your own thoughts. 

Just as your building came into view, rain started pouring from the clouds overhead. Without a second to think, you grabbed Zemo’s hand and ran towards the doors under the roof, not wanting to get soaked or offend the Baron any more by leaving him in the dreadful weather.

His hand grasped onto yours instantaneously, and ran alongside you with amusement. Amused by what, you can’t understand because your luck seems to only be taking a turn for the worst. 

Walking into the building, you could take a better look of the state that Zemo was in, and he seemed beautiful. His hair had flattened out due to it becoming wet from the rain, and you could see his undershirt beneath his button-up. You could get used to seeing more of this version of Zemo.

Taking pity on the already wet man who had escorted you back into your home, you keep hold of his hand and lead him to your dorm apartment where he could dry off if he wishes to stay. 

Your hands were slightly shaking as you unlocked the door due to the cold and the skin your dress failed to cover. 

“Just come inside and dry off. You can wait out the storm and go home after,” you say without even looking at Zemo. The thought of being alone with him in your room was nerve-wracking to say the least, and you couldn’t let him know that. Letting him know the effect that he has on you would only lead to trouble.

“You’re very kind,” he responds with a grateful smile, and follows you into the college apartment. 

Thankfully, you were able to clean up the mess left by Wanda while she was getting ready. Although, you felt ashamed that you continued to live on campus while Zemo practically lived in a palace.

If he didn’t like the place, there was no way of telling by his expression. He remained stoic and took a seat on the couch, laying a blanket over so he wouldn’t get it wet, and shook his head like a dog. Water droplets flew off his chestnut hair, and Zemo smiled like a little boy up at you. This made your heart flutter.

“I’ll go grab a towel and some extra clothes, just one second,” you say softly. You had to get out of the room because he was simply making you suffocate with his boyish charms. However, when you returned with a fluffy pink towel and clothes left by old hook-ups, Zemo had already stripped down to his undershirt and boxers.

You averted your eyes, not wanting to make a fool of yourself as you handed him the things he needed.

“You can look, you know.” You could hear the amusement in his voice, but you shook your head at him.

“I’d rather not,” you respond, keeping your eyes trained on the floor. All of a sudden, you felt a finger under your chin. With slight encouragement, Zemo lifted your face to make eye contact, and he smiled down at you.

“Thank you for your hospitality, (Y/N).” Hesitantly, Zemo left a kiss on your forehead before putting on a new pair of clothes, leaving you breathless. 

After gaining some composure, you remove the wet blanket from the couch and toss it into the hamper of dirty clothes before taking a seat. Zemo soon followed along after he got his affairs in order and took the opportunity to sit right beside you.

“I’m assuming these clothes are coming from men who spent the night? After all, even a woman who refuses to date needs pleasure sometimes.” He smiled at you cheekily, raising his eyebrows in a teasing way, but all you could focus on was the way he rolled his r’s. You could listen to him talk about calculus and be able to pay attention.

“That is none of your business!” You reply with a scoff and a little slap against his shoulder. 

Zemo feigned hurt and wrapped his arm around your body, “I’d consider us friends now. Friends know each other’s dirty businesses, yeah?” 

A giggle escaped from your lips, and you wanted to scoot away from the man, but the warmth of his arm around you was heavenly. Maybe you could make an exception for him.

[dragon-kazansky]

Til death do us part | Helmut Zemo

Bodyguard AU! 🕶

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 4

London. Arriving to London was much the same as when you arrived to Paris. The Baron ignored you throughout the flight, you were in the follow up car to the hotel, which once again as the exact place you would expect a Baron to stay at, and then you were situated on his floor until he was ready for his meeting.

You figured at this point every meeting was going to be pretty much the same. Maybe you would be able to come up with some fun little games to play while you stood on guard.

You might as well since this was going to be a long process.

The Baron leaves for his meeting and you all follow him. Once again it's pretty much the same as it was in Paris. A meeting in an official building where alliances and such would be discussed and they would make a deal.

You began to wonder if your mental state would be able to handle so many days of this.

However, none of this seemed to last long.

On the dawn of the second day, you all got up and positioned yourself on the hotel floor like before. The Baron got dressed, was escorted to breakfast, returned to his room for a bit, and was then escorted to his meeting as per usual.

The only difference was that Steve wasn't present that day. He had recieved a call earlier from Stark, the big boss, and had to take it. Sam had taken over Steve's postion beside the Baron that morning.

Steve wasn't present on the way to the meeting that day, but he showed up just as the meeting started. He came over to where you and Bucky stood.

"We have an issue."

You both look at him, waiting.

"They're here. I have word that the group who are after the Baron is in London and they're in the area," he keeps his voice level.

You share a glance with Bucky.

"Instructions?" You ask.

"Pay attention. I don't know where they are, where they'll come from, but if they really are here, we have to act fast. When the meeting is over, do not let the Baron out of your sight. I know he isn't too fond of you, Y/N, but no matter what he says, don't leave his side."

"You can count on me, Steve."

He knows he can. He nods at you and leaves your side, making his way over to the others to alert them. You share another look with Bucky, both of you nodding.

The nod. A silent signal. It can be a greeting, or a full on conversation. It's a solid way of communicating without words.

The meeting goes on for an hour before Zemo exists. As soon as he does, both Bucky and yourself are at his side. You let Bucky do the talking, feeling the Baron will the listen to him over you.

"We believe your life to be at risk. We have word that group are in town and may be here for you. Please do as we say and we make sure you are escorted back to your hotel safely."

The Baron, at first, looks confused, but then he seems to become more serious. He glances at you and narrows his eyes.

"They sent you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where are the others?" He asks.

"On watch. We can't take any chances. I know you don't think I'm capable, sir, but please work with us here. I'm here to a job, and I will do everything in my power to ensure your safety, sir."

Never before have you spoken to a client like that, but your words rang true. You had a job to do and you were going to do it.

He stares at you.

You can't tell if he's upset with you for talking to him like that, or if he was just trying to think about his options, of which he didn't have many.

"Very well. What do you want me to do?" He asks, looking at you. You don't have time to think about that too much.

"Remain calm as we walk you outside. The car is just outside across the road. We are going to get you inside. I ask that you keep your head down. If I ask you to get down, please get a close to the ground as possible. Barnes and I will shield you then best we can."

Zemo doesn't say anything as he looks at you. He nods. A nod of confirmation. He understood the protocol.

You glance at Bucky.

"Ready?" You ask him.

"Ready."

Bucky and yourself walk on either side of the Baron as you head for the doors. Natasha and Clint are right outside, eyes on the rooftops. Steve and Carol are right behind you. Sam is near the car, waiting.

You step outside casually. Bucky and yourself are trying to note every detail, every person who is on this street.

The silence in the air feels eerie.

You get Zemo out into the street. It's far too quiet for your liking. No other vehicles are turning down the road and that makes you uncomfortable.

You glance down the road.

You're all almost across the street. Looking at Sam, you see he has his eyes on the roof of the building you had just come from.

You don't like this.

You're nearly at the car.

A shot rings out in the air and everything happens all at once.

All bodyguards take out their weapons and keep them up as they try and pinpoint where the gunshot rang from. There was no sign of anyone. The Baron crouched down by the car, you take a knee beside him, Bucky shielding him from the other side.

You focus your eyes on the rooftops.

"I don't see anyone," you say down through the earpieces.

"Nothing," you hear Nat say.

"All clear here," Carol states.

"Clear," Clint responds.

"Don't let your guard down," Steve says.

There's another shot. It strikes the car. You swear under your breath as you look up at where it may have come from.

"Not the rooftop!" You state.

Bucky sees the open window. There's movement within, but he can't get an angle. He looks at you over his shoulder.

"I have to move, you going to be alright?" He asks.

You nod.

Zemo looks up at you, brows furrowed together.

"You're leaving me with them?" He asks, turning back to Bucky.

Bucky looks at him.

"You're in good hands."

Bucky says no more as he pushes away from the car and bolts further down the street, taking cover behind the car you had arrived in. You open the car door.

"Please get in, sir."

Zemo stares at you.

Another shot rings out, another one striking the car. He jumps slightly.

"Give me a weapon, I was military, I can shoot," he says.

"Sorry, sir, but I cannot do that. Please get in the car. I have to get you out of the area."

He glares at you, but he climbs into the car as he is told to do. You close the door behind him and stand up, keeping your back to the car. Zemo tucks himself down in front of the seats. He keeps his eyes on you through the window.

"Crazy," he mutters.

You turn to see Bucky waiting the person in the window. From where you moved to, they wouldn't be have a good enough shot on you. However, you should have remembered the fact that cars had stopped coming down this road.

Load screeching causes you turn around. A big bulky vehicle comes to a stop at the end of the street. Along with the others, you lift your gun and hold it up at the car. Nothing happens for a minute, but all at once the car doors open and several people jump out.

All of them are armed.

Helmut watches you raise your gun. It had been a long time since he felt fear like this. They were here for him.

Gunshots go off. He turns to see three of the people from the car either fall back, or backtrack to cover. The others continue to shoot at his bodyguards.

More gunfire and suddenly he can't see you any more.

Zemo moves and looks out the window properly. You're kneeling on the ground. You're hurt.

Zemo glances up and sees them getting back in the car. The windows are rolled down. He panics all of a sudden.

"Shit." He opens the car door and runs toward you. He kneels in front of you and looks down at you. You look at him, brow furrowed.

"Get back in the car!"

"You're hurt."

"No shit. Get back in the car."

You reach for your gun and hold it up toward the car. The engine revs. They're going to drive right into you if you don't move.

You fire a couple of shots, but they got you in the shoulder and it hurts like hell. You groped your gun and give the Baron a rough shove.

"GO!"

He hesitates. He looks at you. It looks like a lot of blood, but it probably wasn't. Still, he can't help how worried he feels right now.

Why was he so scared?

Maybe because this was the first time in years they had come for him, and seeing you bleeding out in front of him takes him back to that night.

Two strong hands grab him by the shoulders and pull him back. He's startled for a moment. He looks back to see Bucky pulling him back toward the car. He is roughly shoved into the back. Bucky slams the door shut and climbs into the drivers seat.

"Wait, we are leaving them?"

As Bucky starts the engine, Zemo looks outside and sees you passed out on the street. Everyone else seems too busy to attend to you and he wonders what will happen.

He wants to jump out and move you, but the doors are locked.

"Go back!" He yells as the car turns sharply and drives down the other direction.

He just left you there!

Zemo had just seen you do your job. You protected him and took a hit for him. Perhaps more than one hit.

Were they just going to leave you to die?

Zemo tries to keep his eyes on you as Bucky drives, but they're not on that street long enough for him to do so.

Through Bucky's earpiece, he hears Steve.

"Ambulance en route. The gang have reversed out of the street, stay off the main roads and be careful."

Bucky replies, "roger that."

Zemo sits in the back in silence. He doesn't know what to do or what to think. Everything had happened so very quickly.

He was also confused.

Why had guilt settled within him.

You had done your job. He had been wrong about you. He can say that now.

I was wrong about you.

@thesuitkovian @justfangirlthingies @belle82devart @zemosimp420 @anteroom-of-death @silverlambcaptain @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @lieutenantn @daniielbruhl @awesomesauce-abbie @latenightartist-author @lazygurl05 @rumblelibrary @nonamec0s @shura-gorl @ginger-abreu @caligrl1992 @livvyshmiv @luciadiosa @vverliebt @tatooineisdry @charistory @somethingthatsaysbubbles

[mahbonesmccoy]

What's the worse that could happen? Fem!(Y/N) x Zemo Chap. 4

A/N: I know I update so so late hnngg sorry. Anyways, please do enjoy this fic I made. Thank you for reading!

Summary: Now that Zemo has taken you under his wing, would you trust your safety to him?

word count: 1.6k

part 3: https://thehalfbloodboi.tumblr.com/post/662498111207424000/whats-the-worse-that-could-happen-femyn-x

You remember distinctly how you parents were not that kind as you expect them to be. They were always at work when you were young while acing up your scores at school. The only time they cared is your interest and intellect of sciences was noticed and they decided to hone your skills, in the hopes that you will continue their work. So deprived with attention and love, you gave all your best to impress your parents. You got into a prestigious school, earning your degree with flying colours and unaware that it was Hydra paying for your education instead of your parents. You never knew they already sold you to Hydra to be their next pawn in a huge war you don’t have knowledge of. You thought you were working for something good, for the development of humanity but it turns out you were only there solely to develop the super soldier serum. Hydra wanted to get the best of minds just for the winter soldier program to be developed and you… are a perfect candidate.

You were always under surveillance for a month since you have shown hesitance to accept their offer to be one of their scientists and your parents made it clear that there’s no way out except if you are willing to take a bullet in your head. You are a risk Hydra was willing to take thanks to your brilliant mind and they have no plans to let you go… ever. When your parents died from an assassination, you knew you have to get out, but your fighting spirit became dormant when they made it clear to you that there’s no way out. You were considered one of the brightest that Arnim Zola, the German talking machine as you called him in your mind, praised you. You were permitted to stay in Camp Lehigh and was given a fake identity just to work on the serum under Arnim Zola’s watch.

“I still find it odd to see a woman so fascinated with science instead of-“

“Marriage? Children? Husband? Kitchen to organize?” There will never be a day he will stop talking about your gender related to your chosen field of work and you have to remind yourself now and then that he once lived in an era where women have no such privilege like you do. You became numb as time passes by for you while entertaining this talking computer during your working hours. You weren’t permitted to leave the camp but badly wanted to get out for once in a while just to escape Zola. You managed to sneak out during the night and the air has never been this fresh for you and it feels good to be alone. You weren’t supposed to leave but your feet acted upon itself, walking towards your temporary freedom. You were so distracted that you didn’t notice the time. Dread started to fill in your being and you started running silently back inside without being caught. Unaware, Arnim Zola knew you sneaked out but didn’t say anything yet.

The next morning during your experimentations with an axolotl, you were suddenly interrupted with one of the scientists around and told you were called by Zola. Convinced that this is going to be another tiring conversation, you silently make your way to the room where he was hidden.

“I know you went out, Engel.”

Engel… German for Angel. The use of endearment suddenly terrifies you. “I’m not a child anymore. My parents are dead and am I not allowed to have some fresh air during night-time?”

“Did you know why you have the strictest rule in here?”

“… No.”

“Because you have experienced normal life when you were just a little girl. Life isn’t always like that in Hydra… Do you want to be always in the run, mein Engel?”

“I didn’t ask to be in here!!”

“Oh, there’s the little girl… Your parents promised us you will always give your utmost service to Hydra. Even you brain, it was promised to us.”

Now that sounded evidently a threat to you. You stepped away from Zola, feeling your eyes welled up in tears out of fear. You knew your parents are cruel, but they stooped so low at this point even if they’re dead years ago.

“I did not consent to it!!”

“Who gave you the privilege of education, my dear? Hm? It was us… Is that how you repay us for being so generous?”

Out of instinct, you didn’t heed his words anymore and just dashed out of the room. With Zola being in control of the room, he sounded the alarm. You couldn’t stop shaking but you couldn’t also stop from running. You knew so well you couldn’t get pass the guards here with zero skills of fighting, so you did the unthinkable. You inject yourself some unfinished super soldier serum.

You gasps for air when you felt a pair of hands holding your shoulders, softly shaking you out of your slumber and Zemo slowly came into your view.

“It seems you’re having the cliché dream.”

Frowning, you push his hands away from you and avoided his gaze. Both of you were still in the jet but Oeznik had announced to Zemo that you are all close to the destination. Zemo decided to not bother you much for now and prepared himself before the jet could land.

“I basically grew up in Hydra…”

You suddenly confessed, interrupting Zemo’s moment of silence while he’s packing some of his things up and his silence compelled you to continue as you feel his eyes burning with curiosity behind you. You didn’t notice you are holding Zemo’s coat and brings It close to your face that you could smell the slight musk of his expensive cologne.

“My parents are assholes, handing their child to those people just because she’s a science prodigy. I don’t want to blame them for the sake of my peace, but they plague my dreams every night. Arnim Zola plagues my mind.”

Zemo melancholy observed you from behind. It’s safe to show a little emotions behind you for him, not wanting you to give the idea he’s gone softer for you. Zemo decided to not respond anything to your confession instead and gives you the time to grieve a little before setting your mind to the present again.

“We’re heading Germany. I have a place there.”

“Isn’t where you were incarcerated before?”

He smirked a little at you before turning his attention back to his duffle bag.

“Always let the enemy think you are far away. But don’t get too cocky from that either.”

“Is this your subtle way of telling me I am bad at hiding?”

That earned you a chuckle from the Baron.

“Well, technically, you are really bad at hiding if I’m the one hunting you. You just couldn’t resist on trying to make your life normal.”

It’s been so long since you went to Germany. You clearly don’t entirely remember that memory, but you were happy to be back in here. Despite the awful circumstances in life, you only remember that you were once happy here when your parents took you to Munich. After the plane was landed, you and Zemo went for another car ride before finally arriving at this place. Then it occurred to you that you don’t have a single possession with you but your phone, a couple of dollars in our wallet and your discarded coat.

“Don’t worry, you will have your clothes later. For now, I will have to brief you everything on what I’m trying to do here. Please do take a seat at the countertop while I make you some cherry blossom tea.”

Zemo eloquently makes his way to the kitchen while you are following him like a tail of a puppy from behind, taking in the beautiful architecture of his home. Or hideout… While waiting for the tea, Zemo did not waste any time to talk about pressing matters at hand. “I have files of every Identity from Hydra that I am trying to find, including yours. But since you are here being so generously kind to join me in this fiasco, I would like to take this advantage if you can tell me who these people are.”

“No I did not particularly join you because I want to hunt down some Hydra operatives, Baron. I am here with you because…”

You hesitated to tell him. You hesitated to be so vulnerable in front of him again but when you looked at him in the eye, you know that you have nothing in life but him. Helmut Zemo, Baron of Sokovia as your ticket to Freedom.

“Because I wanted to be safe, and I think you’re my best shot.”

You slowly avoid his gaze, feeling a little embarrassed. Zemo smiled at you faintly from your honesty. It gave him a little sense of pride that he was trusted instead of being feared. But he disliked the way you are so trusting… he will fix that in time. After all, he’s much willing to help you now.

“You will be safe when I’m done with this work. So, I need your knowledge so I could be steps ahead from them.”

“You told me if you cut one of Hydra’s head, it will multiply.”

“There’s no harm in trying, Schatzi. People like them do not deserve to live… You could have the normal life you wanted but they snatched it away. Sometimes, you do need a bit of revenge in your tea.”

“I can’t fight, Baron…”

“Yes… But you have me now.”

You snap your eyes back to him, but he already turned his back prepare the hot Cherry Blossom tea he promised for you. Your fingers starts to fidget, feeling a little bit embarrassed but you quickly snap yourself out when he finally serves the tea with biscuits and Turkish delights.

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t@sapphiredreamer2