For the WIP meme: Puppy Love, please! I want to read more of your Torres so bad. Also Oeznik’s Big Day Out, because that sounds adorable.
Thank you for asking <3. More about Oeznik's Big Day Out (should be Big Night Out) here!
Sweet bebe Torres. It's been too long. The premise of Puppy Love was: (set in the nebulous Zemo parole universe) Zemo notices that Torres has a big crush on Bucky and manipulates the situation to get them both in bed with him. There's potential for it to be fluffy, but it definitely will not be lmao. I've planned 3 chapters with switching POVs, which I don't normally do so we'll see how it turns out.
It had started out innocently enough – Joaquin watching James intently during briefings, barely blinking, a mixture of awe and adoration in those sweet doe eyes. Then there were the jokes, addressed to all three of them but clearly directed primarily at Barnes. The crestfallen expression when they were pointedly ignored.
It was sweet really – the new puppy pestering the old dog, always hopeful that this time he would want to play.
At first, Zemo had thought it was nothing more than a young soldier’s admiration for his superior (in every way but rank), in years and strength and experience.
But then they had been in the cabin of the jet, hurriedly changing into their combat gear after receiving intel that a friendly contact was now a hostile contact. And Zemo, observing the scene with a glass of warm champagne in his hand, had caught Joaquin sneaking furtive glances at James’ naked back, at the scarred shoulder where skin met metal, at the unnecessarily tight black briefs and tighter ass beneath them.
some first draft Torres POV. this is more than a snippet but i'll probably never do anything with it so i might as well put it here!
It was weird without Sam or Sergeant Barnes. Like being left home alone with a stepdad for the first time. Not uncomfortable, just unfamiliar.
The living space of their latest, luxurious base was large and open plan – a single room containing lounge, library, kitchen, and dining area. Nowhere to hide. No escape from his gracious host slash parolee.
Joaquin perched awkwardly at the end of the long leather couch, opening and closing the same five apps on his phone while Zemo puttered about in the kitchen, humming to himself.
He could always head up to his small bedroom for an hour or two of precious privacy. It was sparsely furnished, though, with only a cot and closet, and Joaquin was embarrassed to think what the baron might imagine he was doing up there. The bathroom posed a similar problem.
He wanted to take a walk, get some air, but he was meant to be playing guard for the day – keeping an eye on the prisoner. He looked up from twitter at the wrong moment to find said prisoner watching him, head slightly tilted.
“You mustn’t take it to heart,” Zemo said suddenly, “The things James says. He’s a very troubled man.”
“I don’t think I’m meant to, you know, talk to you.”
“Please, Joaquin. Have I done anything to indicate that I can’t be trusted?”
He opened his mouth to list one of the many, many incidents of Zemo’s blatant insubordination but the baron continued, undeterred.
“I’ve become unfortunately invested in the success of your little trio... fighting the good fight. I only wish to ensure that the team continues to function effectively.”
“And we appreciate your help. Really, the jet and the houses and stuff. It’s... It’s been great. I just don’t think...”
“My hospitality is the only gift I have left to offer.”
He poured a second tumbler of the clear liquid and offered it up. Joaquin accepted, unsure what else to do.
“Have you ever tried Mastiha?”
“Is that a vodka, or..?”
“It’s a liqueur made in Chios using the resin of the mastic evergreen. It’s sweet. You’ll like it.”
“Sure. I... OK.”
“As I was saying, the tension between yourself and Sergeant Barnes is beginning to concern me.”
“Tension? I don’t... I don’t think there’s tension. We disagree sometimes, but who doesn’t? I mean, we’re still getting to know each other and I... I know he’s been through a lot, so I try to make things...”
“Easy,” Zemo finished for him, with an understanding nod. “Of course. It’s kind of you. Only, I don’t enjoy seeing you allow yourself to be treated unfairly, talked down to and lectured as though you were a child.”
“I’m not... That’s not what I...”
“I see you, Joaquin. Your ambition. Your strength. Your potential. Super-soldiers,” he gestured vaguely with his glass, lips thinning disapprovingly, “They can never see us mere mortals as equals, only as lambs to be rescued or wolves to be slain, never as fellow shepherds capable of doing our part to protect the flock.”
“I don’t think I follow.”
“No. Forgive me. The Mastiha brings out the poet in me. I only mean to say that I believe you are an invaluable member of this little squad. Sam was right to pass the wings down to you.”
“Oh. I... Thanks.”
“Of course. I’m sure Sergeant Barnes will come to recognise this too. Given time.”
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