#baron zemo fan fic

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Soft Target - Ch. 2

Not strictly Zemo x reader, but so close they could kiss.

Chapter summary: Our girl meets Zemo properly, Sam gets to explain himself, and we all love Jurassic Park.

Chapter warnings: Language

Chapter 1: Link

Thanks for all the support so far! Likes are beautiful, retweets are blessings, and comments keep the Depression Beast at bay. nvtaliaromanovv, I don’t know why it isn’t always showing up in the tags, alas!

*I’m using original villains in this for reasons, but they’re very simple and quickly explained in this chapter.

She tried not to think as they ran down the alley, across a street, and around the corner. So, of course, she thought about everything. She thought of the heavy grip on her arm and the way her knife pushed through the thick resistance of muscle and tendon to reach the bar’s hardwood. She thought of the hesitation in Barnes’ posture and Sam’s careful words. She thought of the stranger leading them away from a place she’d thought so safe and wonderful a mere hour before.

But, as she thought, her feet moved, and soon enough they reached their ride, a black SUV a little too sleek for its class, but reassuringly large. If they were pursued, their hunters would have a challenge forcing the massive thing off the road.

The man in the ridiculous coat took the driver’s seat, and Sam rushed to take shotgun, leaving her to slide into the back with Bucky. The vehicle swung away from the curb before she’d even finished fastening her seatbelt.

“Are we being followed?” Sam asked.

Barnes, with his eyes fixed on the rear window, shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Behind the wheel, the stranger hummed. “We’ll take the long way to the airfield. Just to be safe.”

A beautiful voice. His accent sounded familiar, but she had too much on her mind to place it. Eastern European, but beyond that…

Wait.

“Airfield?” Her eyebrows rose. “You have access to a plane?”

The man chuckled, and Sam rolled his eyes as he answered, “Yes. For all the good it does us right now. We’re out of leads.”

His eyes flicked her way, and she felt rather than saw Barnes turn to the window. No one had to explain. They came looking for an asset, not a friend, and every instinct she had during their earlier conversation had proven true. Damn it.

She took a deep breath, reigning in the urge to do something rash – like jump out of the fucking car. This could be worse, but she had to remind herself of the fact, so it couldn’t be much worse. Like it or not, they’d involved her. The man who grabbed her wasn’t the sharpest crayon on the pack, but he wasn’t operating alone, and he definitely had resources. She needed to resolve this before it boiled over into her private life.

Still, before she threw in her lot with the old married couple and their third wheel, she needed to know. This couldn’t be an intentional manipulation. Oversight she’d accept. Misjudging their relationship – fine. Even intentionally using her could be forgiven under certain circumstances. But if they knowingly put her in the line of fire…

“Before I give you anything, you need to answer a question.”

Sam turned in his seat to meet her gaze, firm but sincere. A second pair of eyes kept flicking towards her in the rearview mirror, and Barnes’ solemn attention burned against the side of her head.

“Did you know that would happen?” she asked. Sam looked like he needed clarification. “Did you know those men would follow you? Were you hoping one of them would touch me?”

“No.” Sam was a man of his word, and the weight of his sincerity pulled his voice deep. “That wasn’t supposed to happen, Triss. You were supposed to have a choice about all this, and I’m sorry.”

So, it was all another accident of circumstance. Why couldn’t these hero types cross a few more lines so she could hate them with a clear conscience?

A weak smile fluttered across her lips. “Apology accepted.”

Barnes squirmed a little in his seat, clearly torn. “So, did you get a lead?”

“I got a lot,” she scoffed. “But, yeah, I got some useful things. We’re heading to Lexington, Kentucky. I hope you like bourbon.”

It was enough for the moment, and an uncomfortable silence settled in for the rest of the ride. She couldn’t quite bear more eye contact at the moment, and her emotions fizzed in her gut, building towards an inevitable explosion. Conversation would make the pressure worse, and she’d hate to say something she’d regret since – apparently – they were stuck together for the time being.

Her gaze hopped from streetlight to streetlight, letting the beams lull her into transitive mindlessness. It wouldn’t last. Best to seize the quiet while she could. Sam and Bucky must’ve felt the same way. Everyone kept their eyes on the windows as they moved out of the city and past the suburbs. But she felt him looking. His attention moved from the road to her reflection in the rearview several times, but she only glanced back the first time his focus turned her way.

It felt like he was measuring her up for a fight, and not necessarily as part of his team.

As in the bar, he became a problem to prepare for. What had she given him to use against her so far? Very little. She knew the superficial analysis – blue hair, tattoos, and a strappy black harness dress to show them off. It was her professional look, but she doubted that was what he’d take away from her appearance. Men weren’t so great at distinguishing those kinds of details. He was welcome to his assumptions. They may keep her safe.

The last few minutes of the drive were particularly dark as they approached the small airfield. She tried not to read into it, her jumpy imagination summoning monsters from the shadows under the suffocating weight of the void. When she knew they were out to get her, and she couldn’t see a threat, she’d invent one. As they finally approached their destination, the lights lining the field, strip, and hangars offered relief. Even walking into hell, she liked to see where she was going.

The man behind the wheel parked them – seemingly at random – near the field’s edge, and everyone jumped out as he cut the engine. Backpack over one shoulder, she followed them not to a military aircraft, not even to a beat-up prop plane, but to an actual private jet.

Oh, she wanted to ask. They owed her answers, but if she held her tongue, she’d probably get them without asking. This wasn’t something Sam or Bucky could afford. That left the third man, and she didn’t want to show him her hand. She’d bury her curiosity for another day and trust her patience would pay off.

An elderly butler greeted them at the ramp, welcoming the stranger in a language she vaguely recognized as Sokovian. That explained the accent. Well. One answer given, a dozen grown.

The stranger replied in the same tongue, and she couldn’t help enjoying the sound. She wasn’t at all fluent, but she recognized “Lexington” and “Kentucky” when they popped awkwardly against the language’s natural cadence. A wave of goosebumps crept up her arm as he spoke more than a hasty sentence for the first time in their acquaintance. She’d always had a thing for voices – harmless in the end – and she’d long since learned how to accept such feelings as they moved through and beyond her. It was like they knew there was no point sticking around. Nothing could come of her crushes.

Sam followed the stranger up the stairs, and she followed him, Bucky bringing up the rear with a wary eye roving the dark field and shadowed hangers. Even if he didn’t think they’d been followed, he’d be ready in case they were. It brought her a bit of comfort, actually, having someone else prepared for the worst-case scenario.

The cabin was all oak paneling and creamy leather seats. Clearly expensive. A little dull. The muted environment made her three companions stand out, though, like dark sketches on a blank canvas. Sam and Bucky chose seats catty-corner across the aisle, ensuring she wouldn’t have to sit beside their… frenemy? Despite the distance, once they were settled, he reached forward for a handshake with the kind of smile she saw tossed around during professional networking events.

“I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced,” he said.

She heaved a deep sigh, glancing at his hand as she folded her own against the impulse to reach out. “You don’t want to do that.”

His head tilted to the side. “Pardon?”

“Touch me. You don’t want to touch me.” It felt like a test, or at least investigation. He must’ve seen what happened at the bar, and he certainly heard her discussion in the car with Sam. He had an idea, but he wanted details. Threat analysis.

“Ah.” He pulled back. “A personal preference?” He made the question sound friendly, though he watched for her reaction like a seasoned interrogator. Fishing for information.

“You don’t have to tell him anything you don’t want to,” Sam interjected. “This is Zemo. You might remember him from the news. He blew up the U.N. and murdered the king of Wakanda. Those are just the highlights, but you get the idea.”

Instead of arguing, Zemo ducked and raised his hands in a kind of shrug. “An oversimplification, but loosely the truth.” His eyes, a little sharper this time, returned to hers. “And may I have your name?”

She wasn’t about to give him anything. He’d turn it against her, claim some kind of power with it like a faerie.

“You already heard Sam call me Triss, right?” she asked. “You can call me that.”

His dark eyes sparkled with a cold fire as his smirk creased up into a smile. If her standoffishness irked him, he didn’t show it. He could even be pleased, like she’d just handed him a challenge, or a puzzle to beat.

“A pleasure to meet you.”

“Don’t bullshit me.” She said it without heat, weary from a long day’s work and rough night’s escape.

As the plane accelerated down the runway and inertia tugged hard on her stomach, she chewed her lip, watching the watcher as she balanced her thoughts.

“What have they told you?” she asked.

He didn’t even blink. “Nothing.”

Honesty was the best policy. How long would he keep to it? Probably only as long as it suited his ends, and she had no idea what those were. She could play by those rules.

“I imagine they have a reason for that.” She leaned back, fighting to ignore the helpless feeling of freefall that haunted her gut during takeoff. “You want to know about my condition, right?”

Sam jumped in again. “Triss, you really don’t have to –”

“If we’re working together, he needs to know. Don’t worry.”

He would worry. Of course he would, so would Barnes, and – frankly – she was counting on that, but at a certain point, good intentions became impractical. The sooner she dealt with this, the better. All three men watched as she straightened in her seat, Zemo raising a hand to his chin so one finger could sweep across his upper lip in thought. Even before she began, she must be telling him something.

“Skin to skin contact gives me unfiltered access to your head. What you think and feel, I sense and hear. I can’t turn it off, so a handshake would be a lot more intimate than you intended. Nothing personal.”

“I appreciate your discretion,” Zemo agreed. “And I think I understand why Sam thought your abilities would be… invaluable for this mission.”

“About that.” She turned her full attention on the Falcon, eyebrows up, ready for an explanation. “I think you owe me a story.”

But Sam wasn’t the one to answer.

“We’re hunting super soldiers,” Zemo said. He continued the instant he had her attention, before either of the other two men could do more than splutter. “James was kind enough to break me out of prison to assist in their efforts to track the source of the serum and prevent the remaining soldiers from escalating.”

Sam jumped in, giving Zemo a nasty side eye. “There’s a friend of mine, air force, who noticed a weird trend. Long story short, someone’s been running black ops without official sanctioning, and when we finally crossed paths, they hit harder than they should.”

She subconsciously touched her forearm, sure it would be black and blue by morning, as Zemo picked up the saga.

“We found the source of the serum,” he said, tone neutral, despite the dark glances exchanged by the other two men. “But a powerful figure in Madripoor already sold five doses to a private American security firm. We hoped to find them before they found us, but…” Zemo motioned to her. “You know how that story ends.”

“Yeah.” She combed her fingers back through her hair, massaging her scalp. “Sounds like a mess.”

The plane was leveling out, and as much as she liked this dress, she was ready for something with fewer straps and more give. She rose from her seat, bag in hand, and asked, “Is there somewhere I can change?”

Zemo, the gracious host, rose as well, ushering her towards the back of the cabin. “This way.”

Bucky twitched, like he might follow them, but she waved him down. No point starting a fight in a pressurized metal tube thousands of feet in the air, especially with the man who apparently owned said flying tube. The fact Sam didn’t jump into action assured her it would be fine. Apart from a warning glance in Zemo’s direction, he didn’t even acknowledge the interaction. Discussing their mission seemingly reminded him that he had his lead, and his phone claimed his attention as he tried to research ahead of landing in Lexington.

A discreet door in the paneling at the back of the cabin swung in to reveal a smaller space with a narrow bed to the left and a second door to what she assumed were the facilities on the right. Assuming the second door would have a lock – because trust be damned in close quarters with people she barely knew – she thanked him and ducked through.

She was right. It was the largest lavatory she’d ever seen on an aircraft, and she took full advantage of the space. Lock engaged and backpack on the counter, she set to work transitioning between work and leisure attire. Away with the dress and on with the jeans – much better for running, and fighting, and swimming neck-deep in someone else’s shit. When she tugged her faded Jurassic Park tee from the bottom of the bag, a pack of old make-up wipes fell out – not as wet as they could be, but still serviceable. Some groping deep in the side pockets brought up a surprising amount of makeup. Tubes of mascara, eyeliner pencils, and powder long believed lost returned to the light. She wiped off one face to replace it with another. Although the idea of keeping her maroon lipstick and heavy, winged liner tempted her, she knew it would only look messy in a few hours, and it would draw attention where they were going.

Ready to face the world again, she pulled open the door – and found Zemo waiting in the little sleeping area. She’d surged forward, eyes on her feet, and nearly ran into him.

“Ope.” She stumbled a step back. “Sorry.”

He shook his head, a lock of his hair falling softly across his forehead with the motion. It drew attention to his face, devoid of a smirk, and she only looked away when he extended his hand.

She glanced down, an excuse ready on her lips, when she realized he’d donned a glove.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” he said, “I’d like to try introducing myself again.”

“Why?” Consideration usually came at a cost, and she wanted to know his before she shook on it. Literally.

“Because some things should be done properly.” His devastating voice masked any insincerity beautifully.

She trusted him as far as she could throw him, but he had nothing in his hands, and the boys were just a shout away. Besides, she thought she might like this version of him better than the smirking menace he became in other company. He had more than one reason for cornering her alone, and it wasn’t just good manners.

But she took his hand anyway.

A small, firm shake brought a smile to his face, though nothing so vulpine as what he wore before.

“Baron Helmut Zemo,” he purred. “Again, a pleasure.”

Well, fuck. Didn’t that just explain it all. Of course, he was a baron. Of fucking course. Shaking her head, trying not to laugh, but definitely smiling, she said, “I’m still just Triss.”

“And that is more than enough,” he assured her.

He hadn’t let go. She realized she hadn’t either, but she made a point to slacken her grip and glance down at their joined hands. A whisper of the nefarious smirk crossed his face, but he buried it under a polite nod and the release of her palm.

“Apologies. I believe our companions will think I’ve eaten you if we linger any longer.”

Interesting word choice. She tried not to mull over it as they rejoined the others. They found Sam and Bucky with their heads together, leaning half out of their seats as they argued over… something. Bucky, who’d taken the rear-facing seat on Zemo’s side of the plane, saw them coming first.

“Everything okay?”

She shrugged, dropping her ass to the seat and her bag to her feet. “Fine, Barnes.”

Complicated emotions churned over his face at the use of his last name. Had she actually used it out loud before? It was how she most often thought of him. He was only “Bucky” with other people. Steve. Sometimes Sam. And he’d never given her permission to use the nickname. They really didn’t know each other, and he was lucky she didn’t use an honorific. She knew, because of their introduction, that he’d always associate her with Steve, and that may be a shadow she never shook off. She could empathize with that, really, she could, but if he wasn’t sure what he wanted from her – friendship, distance, support – she couldn’t give it.

She pretended not to notice how attentively Zemo monitored the exchange.

Sam took one look at her shirt and shook his head. “Damn, you’re a nerd.”

“Shush. That’s my childhood you’re insulting.” She was unspeakably grateful for the break in the tension and an opportunity to snark with someone who wouldn’t hoard every word out of her mouth as ammunition.

“Your childhood?” Sam asked. She could practically see the numbers rolling behind his eyes. Like a man suddenly feeling his age, or realizing that he was approaching an age to feel.

“Like it’s a surprise I’m the youngest person on this plane.”

Across the aisle, Barnes chuckled. “Be real careful what you say next, Sam.”

“Hey, I wasn’t going after anyone’s age,” Sam defended. “Just taste.”

“When I want fashion tips from the Junior Birdmen, I’ll ask.” She pulled up Google on her phone, ignoring the scoffing fallout of her parting shot as she looked up fragments of images and impressions from her time in the fucking super soldier’s head. The bar he’d thought of, the Clover, was easy to find.

She handed her phone to Sam, who took the change in her expression in stride. “What’s this?”

“Place our burning man used to hang out. Got banned or… something. I think he hurt someone. They may have a record of his tab, and that would at least give us his name.”

“And if they don’t?” Bucky asked.

A deep breath quashed her immediate urge to glare, and her palms rubbed up and down her thighs as a proper response came together. The texture of her jeans helped ground her as her mind spun with possibilities.

She’d been wondering how long it would take them to ask. They meant to at the bar, and Sam had insisted he wanted to give her a choice – and she still had one. She could leave them in this mess and hope no one thought to hunt down the weird little bartender who disappeared with the trio of snoops. She could depend on someone else’s oversight to keep her safe, or she could further involve herself. The fake I.D. she’d used for her old job wouldn’t lead the bad guys anywhere interesting, but their connections… Someday, she’d like to walk confidently through an airport again, and she couldn’t do that while goons with ties like Sam described had her name – real or otherwise – on their shit list.

A rock and a hard place – neither a destination she preferred.

“Then I’ll ask,” she replied.

As Sam leaned forward, probably to thank her for signing onto the team, she raised a hand.

“I will only ask, and I’ll only accept what I’m offered.” She let the pause hang, grateful none of them leapt to fill it. This mattered, and involved or not, she would stonewall them if they broke her rules. “I am not your interrogator. Do we understand each other.”

“Perfectly.” Sam nodded. “Thank you for helping us.”

He was so damn polite, and he worked so hard to stuff each word with grounded sincerity that it bordered on patronizing at times. Nothing intentional.

Then Barnes had to open his fucking mouth.

“We won’t let anything happen to you.”

She closed her eyes, taking the deepest breath she’d drawn all night, and wondered if it was too late to jump out of Baron Helmut Zemo’s ostentatious jet.

“Don’t jinx it.”

Chapter 3: link

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#Zemo #helmut zemo x oc #zemo x reader #zemo x original character #baron zemo x oc #helmut zemo #baron zemo #fanfiction #fan fic #tfatws #sam wilson #bucky barnes #original character #oc #zemo x oc

[rax-writes]

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Fandom:  MCU Pairing:  Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader Warnings:  Sexual intercourse with a female-identifying person with a vagina + a bit of sugar daddy Zemo vibes at the end Notes:  Y’all... don’t judge me. I have a power kink, and Marvel did me dirty by randomly deciding that Zemo is fifthly rich royalty. And my girl @henrysmorgan​ did me even dirtier by actively encouraging my attraction to this fucker. So, blame Marvel, and blame her. // This is kind of really fucking long, and I didn’t edit it much, because I wanted to get it posted before episode 4, in case that episode flips the script. So, potentially some editing issues, and slightly rushed writing. Hopefully it’s alright, but please let me know if I screwed up anywhere. // Lots and lots of TFAWS ep. 3 spoilers

When Bucky texted you to ask that you meet him in some dusty, old, abandoned-looking car garage, you certainly didn’t know what to expect. All you knew was that an old friend needed your help, so you intended to be there.

It had been a few months since you’d last seen him, and even longer since you’d participated in any sort of mission, but you suspected that was what you were walking into. Being exposed to the Mind Stone had granted you the power of telepathy, which meant that SHIELD was quite keen on persuading you to work for them. They trained you in martial arts and hand-to-hand combat, and you went on miscellaneous missions a handful of times. They put in a lot of effort to convince you that it was your moral obligation as an “enhanced individual” to help them with these missions, but you ultimately decided that that simply wasn’t the kind of life you wanted. Instead, after the Blip, you began working a desk job for SHIELD, which is when you crossed paths with Bucky, helping him with paperwork associated with his pardon, and the two of you formed a friendship. But SHIELD kept trying to coerce you to get back into the field, constantly badgering you about it and making it clear that you weren’t wanted if all you were doing was paperwork.

The truth is, you weren’t cut out to be a superhero, and you had no desire to be. It didn’t help that your entire country had been reduced to rubble several years prior, leaving you with a bottomless pit of homelessness in your heart. So, you left SHIELD, and started a life in Berlin, where you were content to live out your days as the owner of a small bakery, residing in the small apartment above your shop.

That is, until Bucky Barnes dragged you into a particularly sticky situation, with a certain Baron Helmut Zemo.

You knew that helping Bucky and Sam would throw a colossal wrench in the life you’d created for yourself in Berlin, but after they explained the situation with the super soldiers, coupled with Bucky’s puppy dog eyes, you found yourself refraining from storming out of the building the second you saw Helmut fucking Zemo.

“We need you to keep an eye on him. You don’t have to tap into his mind 24/7, we just want a heads up if he’s going to screw us over,” Bucky explained.

"Look, we really need him. We’re obviously scraping the bottom of the barrel here, otherwise he'd still be in that cell. And neither of us want to be packing a criminal around like a rich bitch's chihuahua, so we need you here to make sure we're not gonna get bit," Sam explained.

"Fine. But you both owe me," you relented, and they both took sighs of relief. You glanced at Zemo, locking eyes with him for several tense moments. He gave you a polite smile, giving off the impression that he had nothing to hide – which he didn't, as his thoughts showed his intentions were pure at the moment. "We're good for now. He just genuinely wants the opportunity to take down these new super soldiers."

Sam and Bucky nodded, visibly releasing tension from their shoulders as they moved to head out, now reassured that Zemo was truly on their side. Meanwhile, Zemo eyed you with curiosity and awe, murmuring, "Fascinating."

The four of you walked on the landing strip toward a private jet, owned by Zemo.

"So all this time you've been rich?"

"I was a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty before your friends destroyed my country," Zemo explained, before glancing at you with a small smile. "But you knew that already."

"Wait, how did she know that?" Sam asked, then turned to you. "How did you know that?"

"I am Sokovian myself. I was certainly not royalty, but I lived there for my entire life, until it was destroyed," you explained, stopping outside the jet as Zemo greeted the elderly butler, Oeznik, in your native language. It made you smile to yourself; it had been years since you'd heard it spoken. Zemo shot you a grin when he noticed, and when you took a peek into his mind, you saw that he understood exactly how you felt.

As the butler handed Zemo a flute of champagne after you all boarded the jet, the Baron smiled politely as Oeznik stated, “Apologies if that's a little warm. The fridge is out, but I will see if there is some good food in the galley.”

Zemo glanced as you sat across from him, then in Sokovian, Zemo told Oeznik, "Another flute for the lady, please. And if the food does not pass the smell test, give it to the gentlemen."

"It's good to have you back, sir!"

As the man retreated to the cockpit, also in Sokovian, you noted, "You are a mischievous man, even more so than in your infamously criminal ways."

"You will find that there is more to me than meets the eye, angel," he responded coolly, the Sokovian language rolling off his tongue like honey. Before you could respond, admittedly enjoying speaking Sokovian, Sam grew tired of everyone speaking a language he couldn't understand.

"Why don't you tell us about where we're going?"

After a tense exchange between Bucky and Zemo, followed by a discussion about Marvin Gaye, Zemo finally got to the point: Madripoor. You exhaled slowly, resting your forehead in your palm in exasperation.

“You couldn’t have invited me on a mission to Cancun? Or Paris? Why must it be Madripoor?” you asked Bucky, who shot you a tight-lipped, pitying smile, silently apologizing for what he was dragging you into.

“What’s up with Madripoor? You guys talk about it like it’s Skull Island.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s,” Bucky explained.

“And upon seeing it, you would see that times there haven’t changed one bit since then,” you added.

“It’s kept its lawless ways. But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone,” Zemo said.

You frowned as you caught a glimpse of Bucky’s thoughts as he went silent. Fear. Anxiety. Disdain. Apprehension. You reached across to rest your hand on his shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze. He shot you a small smile, then looked out the window.

Upon landing in Madripoor, one of Zemo’s contacts met you on the landing strip with a new wardrobe for you, Bucky, and Sam, and Zemo explained that each outfit was per his instruction, carefully chosen to fit the role each of you would be playing in Madripoor. One by one, you took the covered clothes hanger to the bathroom of the jet and changed. Bucky was first, stepping out in some sort of leather number, looking eerily similar to the Winter Soldier you’d seen in photos. Sam was next, donning a three-piece suit of burgundy and gold. He looked sharp, although he was immediately complaining about how ostentatious it was. And finally, you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you, unzipping the covering on the hanger and revealing your “carefully chosen” outfit.

“Ich werde dir im Schlaf die Eier abreißen, Zemo!”

Bucky choked on his water and Zemo chuckled under his breath, while Sam looked between the two in confusion.

“I don’t know what she said, but she sounded pissed,” he observed, eyeing Zemo suspiciously.

“She informed me that she intends to remove my testicles in my sleep.”

“And why is that?”

“Perhaps because he’s chosen to parade me around Madripoor like a cheap whore,” you said angrily, stepping out of the bathroom with your hands on your hips, glaring at Zemo.

“That dress is by Armani Prive, and your shoes are Louboutins – far from ‘cheap.’ And you do not look like a whore, the dress is merely more revealing than what you are used to,” Zemo argued, standing and walking over to survey your outfit. He seemed to be enjoying what he saw, judging from the way his eyes raked up and down your body, but you didn’t dare check his thoughts to confirm or deny it.

If you were honest with yourself, he was right. It was a very nice dress; plum purple, matching the color of Zemo’s turtleneck, with long, fitted sleeves, all of it made of the softest silk you had ever touched. It was fitted at the top but flowy from the hips down, with a low balconette-style neckline, showing more of your chest than you were accustomed to, although you pulled it off quite nicely. It ended just above your knees, which was fine, as you sometimes wore skirts of that length. Overall, the luxury of it and the low-cut neckline ensured that you were out of your comfort zone, but you looked stunning – and expensive, despite your spite-fueled initial claim.

“I thought the color would look nice on you, and I was right. And I knew that the flow of the fabric at the bottom would allow for this,” Zemo said, his hand gingerly trailing from your waist to your thigh, where he pulled up the hem of your dress slightly to reveal the edge of the Glock strapped into your thigh holster. He smirked as his suspicion was confirmed. He knew you’d find a way to arm yourself, regardless of what you wore.

In hindsight, the way Zemo touched your side and lifted your skirt was all far more intimate than you should have allowed, and yet… you couldn’t deny the way your breath caught in your throat when he touched you, or how his close proximity made your body temperature rise, as he gazed down at you with those intense brown eyes.

Christ, you needed to get laid. Soon. Before you further entertained the idea of jumping the bones of a highly wanted criminal.

“Touch me like that again, and I will kill you where you stand,” you informed him sternly, and Zemo immediately took a step backwards, looking apologetic. From the corner of your eye, you saw both Sam and Bucky visibly relax, tension leaving their shoulders. You had read their thoughts briefly, and they were both wondering why the hell you were so calm about getting cozy with Zemo. The absolute last thing you wanted was for them to know that you were, in fact, inexplicably drawn to being that close to the Baron.

As the four of you walked along a bridge in Madripoor, Sam was quick to resume his complaining.

“We have to do something about this. I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.”

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“He even has a bad nickname,” Sam grumbled, then looked at the phone Zemo handed him. “Hell, he does look like me, though.”

“And who am I supposed to be?” you inquired, glancing down at your clothing to see if you could guess who you were meant to be portraying. An heiress or socialite, perhaps.

“My fiancée,” Zemo answered simply, the faintest smile on his lips.

You barked out a crude laugh, “Oh, I think not.”

“There is no one involved with Madripoor who looks like you. And it is rare that there are newcomers to the island, especially not in the place we’re going. Pretending you are someone random would raise concerns about the intentions of your presence; you would be perceived as a potential threat, which would jeopardize our mission. It is far easier to simply pretend we are engaged, I assure you.”

You hesitated a moment, before arguing, “No one will believe that we are engaged.”

Zemo pulled something from the inside pocket of his jacket, took your left hand, and slipped it onto your ring finger. It was a solitaire diamond ring; not large enough to be gaudy, but enough to catch anyone’s eye.

“They will if you play your part well,” he told you, then addressed the rest of your party when he added, “No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There is no margin for error.”

The four of you reached a sleek black car, and climbed in, you in the back between Sam and Bucky. The ride to Low Town was tense and silent, as each of you mentally prepared for what lay ahead. When you arrived, Zemo offered you his hand as you exited the car, and the pointed look in his eyes told you that it was time to begin playing your part. You took his hand, and as you began walking into the heart of Low Town, he laced his fingers with yours. As the crowd drew near, Zemo wrapped his arm around your shoulders, gloved fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your shoulder. After reading his mind, you realized that it was both for the sake of protecting you, and showing possessiveness to make it believable that you were his girl – and because he simply enjoyed having your body close, although you suspected that he’d rather you have not known that.

Despite the fact that you had been on a few missions for SHIELD, you were not exactly incapable of fear; you did not possess nerves of steel. All of the missions you’d been on were low-profile, and you were mostly just there for the sake of gathering information from those reluctant to share it. Sure, you’d been in danger before, you’d had to fight your way out of several sticky situations, but this… this was different. You were in the crime capital of the world, a lawless place filled to the brim with crooks, thieves, and murderers. More than likely, any given person around could slit your throat and never bat an eye or give you a second thought. Swallowing your own pride in the face of fear prompted you to return Zemo’s gesture, wrapping your arm around his waist and sticking close to him, which earned a smile from the man.

When you arrived at your destination, Zemo approached the bar and leaned against it confidently on one arm, the other still wrapped firmly around your shoulders.

“Hello, gentleman,” the bartender greeted, before his eyes fell on you. “Who’s your new lady friend, Baron?”

“My fiancée,” Zemo answered, then turned to you and ran his finger along your jawline, as you looked at him in adoration. “Isn’t she lovely?”

“Very,” the bartender acknowledged, then turned to Sam. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby,” Zemo responded.

The bartender made ‘Smiling Tiger’ his usual drink, which apparently consisted of… something he cut out of a snake, and dropped in a shot glass with a bit of liquor. You shared a look with Bucky before he turned away to survey the room, and when you read his thoughts, you found that you both desperately wanted to laugh out loud at Sam’s ‘short end of the stick’ situation, but didn’t want to risk everyone’s lives for the sake of a chuckle. You returned your attention to Zemo, opting to sell the whole “fiancée” thing a bit more by turning into him and tracing patterns on his chest as you gazed at him affectionately, while the bartender handed you and Zemo each a shot glass of your own – sans snake organs, thankfully. You both downed yours, while Sam understandably struggled a bit more with his, but still managed it.

A random man approached Zemo then, and as Zemo turned to face him, he protectively moved you behind him a bit.

“I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.”

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo countered, gesturing toward Bucky, who looked menacing as he pretended to be the Winter Soldier. “Or bring Selby for a chat.”

After a weary look in Bucky’s direction, the man walked away, and Zemo turned back around to face the bar, this time keeping you in between him in the bar, in case someone were to come up behind him – which they did a few moments later.

“Winter Soldier… attack,” Zemo commanded in Russian, as a different man came up and laid a hand on Zemo’s shoulder. With a pained look in his eye that quickly shifted to cold determination, Bucky grabbed the man’s hand with his vibranium arm, twisting it as he removed it from Zemo’s shoulder. Zemo took a step away from the bar to allow you room to turn and observe as Bucky beat the absolute shit out of various challengers. Zemo wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him as he noted, “Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.”

The unmistakable sound of numerous guns cocking drew your attention away from the altercation, and Zemo gently pushed you behind him as he surveyed the room to note all the weapons drawn. Sam grabbed Bucky’s bionic arm to stop him, but Zemo whispered, “Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.”

“Well done, soldier,” Zemo then said to Bucky in Russian, signaling for the ‘Winter Soldier’ to stop.

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender interjected, and Bucky released his grip on the random man’s throat.

“Thank you,” Zemo responded, walking off to find Selby, grabbing your hand to guide you, but not before you spared a sorrowful glance at Bucky as your friends followed closely behind.

As Zemo took a seat on a couch across from Selby, you sat close to him, crossing your legs gracefully as you leaned into him, your arm wrapped around his as he clasped his hands in his lap authoritatively. You watched his exchange with Selby in silence, as did Sam – and Bucky, of course, considering he was pretending to be the Winter Soldier.

“By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison,” Selby told Zemo, then smiled as she looked you up and down, before her eyes found the diamond ring. “And not engaged – to a woman far out of your league, I might add.”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo answered calmly, then looked over at you, staring into your eyes with warmth and adoration, and you smiled lovingly at him. “My beautiful fiancée was a guard at the prison. We fell in love over the years, and she helped me escape. Anyway, I’m sure you have already figured out what I’m here for.”

The conversation went relatively smoothly after that, until Sam’s goddamn phone rang and screwed the entire operation. In the blink of an eye, Selby was shot dead, you had shot two of the guards with the gun strapped to your thigh, and Sam and Bucky had each knocked out one, before Zemo suggested sneaking out of the bar as best you could, without any weapons. You secured your gun back in its holster, not missing the way Zemo watched as you hiked your dress up to do so, before making a break for it with the three of them.

Once you were on the streets of Madripoor, bounty hunters began to come out of the woodwork, and when they began shooting at you, Zemo abruptly grabbed your hand and ran down a nearby alleyway. As you were running, the heel of your stiletto caught on a grate, and you’d have fallen flat on your face if Zemo hadn’t caught you.

“Are you alright?” he asked hurriedly, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he supported you, before standing you back onto your feet. You nodded, and he glanced over your shoulder as he noticed a few men looking down the alley. “Forgive me.”

You were about to ask what he was talking about, but then Zemo abruptly grabbed you by the backs of your thighs and lifted you up, pinned you against the wall behind you, and kissed you.

The men at the end of the alleyway muttered something about “freaks who do it in public,” then their footsteps faded as they walked off, clearly thinking the two of you were some overly horny couple, not two of the people with an insane bounty on their heads. But you were barely paying them any attention, a bit preoccupied with the fact that Zemo was fucking kissing you, and much to your chagrin, you really fucking liked it.

Once there were no more voices and no more footsteps, Zemo broke the kiss and sat you down. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, before you heard more gunshots, and you broke into a run in the direction Bucky and Sam had gone, desperate to find your friends, and no time to process what the hell just happened.

As soon as you caught up with them, the two bounty hunters nearby were shot dead, and the four of you turned to see Sharon Carter emerging from the shadows.

An hour later, you found yourself in her swanky home in High Town, in a change of clothes, since the brick wall Zemo had held you up against ripped the back of your silk dress. You lied to Sam and Bucky, saying that it happened because you fell while running in your heels, and thankfully, they believed you. Sharon commanded the four of you to lay low and enjoy the party, which Sam and Bucky left her living room to go do, entrusting you with ‘Zemo watch.’

It seemed as though he was merely nursing his brandy in lieu of abandoning it for the party prior to finishing it off, but his eyes were on you most of the time. You didn't necessarily believe he could be plotting to overpower you and run off, but there is always that possibility, so you delved into his mind to check.

Expecting to find thoughts of strategy about how to defeat the super soldiers or travel plans, or even plots to escape you, Bucky, and Sam, you were astounded to find nothing but thoughts of you.

The way it felt to kiss you in that alleyway, and how he had monetarily debated just staying there, having his way with you against the brick wall before Sam and Bucky could locate you. The dress from the bar, and how it rested on your thighs, revealing just enough to have his mouth watering without being revealing to the point of immodesty. The way your necklace currently rested against your bare collarbone, and how desperately he craved to litter the area with love bites. The delicate skin of your throat, thinking of how it would look with his hand wrapped around it, just enough to cut off a bit of air but not enough harm you. How alluring your voice is, and how much he'd like to know what it would sound like to hear you scream his name. The softness and warmness of your skin when he had his arm around you in the bar, and when he held your hand as you fled the scene, and he wondered how soft and warm you were elsewhere.

"Your thoughts are filthy."

He bristled immediately, sitting straighter in his seat and eyes going slightly wide, either forgetting you can read minds or not realizing you'd be doing it right then. It only took a moment for him to regain his composure, before he took one long, last drink of his brandy and set the glass on the table in front of him. He turned his whole body to the side to face you, as you sat on the opposite end of the couch, wearing a small, somewhat mischievous smile.

"I suppose there is no sense in denying it, is there?"

"What game are you playing, Zemo?" you snapped. He was rattling you. As much as you hated to admit it, he was. For the entirety of the time you'd been around him, this wanted criminal had been flustering you, and goddammit it, you wanted to know if it was accidental, or for nefarious purposes. He could be using it as a tactic to throw you off your game, so that he could get away when it was just the two of you – like right now.

"There is no game, Liebling," he stated softly and sincerely, sensing your discomfort. Slowly, he scooted closer to you on the couch, so that the arm he had laid across the back of it was now behind you, as he stared intently into your eyes. "Merely the natural response of a man who has been widowed and then locked in a prison cell, and therefore has not known the touch of a woman in many years, sitting next to a woman of absolute ethereal beauty."

You said nothing, merely stared at him, sizing him up to see if he was toying with you or telling the truth. Zemo sensed your lack of belief in his words.

"If you doubt my true intentions, you are welcome to delve as deep into my mind as you'd like to find the truth."

In all honesty, you'd have done that already if you weren't trying to avoid being even more flustered by his thoughts about you – but you couldn't tell him that. So, you did as he bade you, and searched his mind to find any shred of malevolence towards you, but you came out empty-handed. Zemo genuinely just wanted you, craved you, like a starved man sitting in front of an endless buffet. He watched you carefully as you came to this conclusion, and although you said nothing further, he knew that you had found what you needed to know.

"Just say the word, and I will never approach the topic again, as well as attempt to quiet my thoughts about you. But if there is any part of you... deep inside you," Zemo paused, eyes grazing you up and down purposefully, before continuing, "that has any interest in being with me... I will do anything to bring that to fruition."

The ball was in your court now. You could tell him to get bent and never speak to you like this again… or you could get your rocks off, and maybe even get something more in return.

"Such as?"

"Name it, Schätzchen. Anything you want. A car, a mansion, jewels – say it and it's yours, if you will be mine," Zemo proposed earnestly, licking his lips quickly as he looked at you, visibly thrilled that he was getting somewhere with you.

You weren't the type to accept gifts from men you barely know, but… this was Zemo. A man who had done a great many terrible things, which soothed your guilty conscience. So, you said the first thing that came to mind.

"A car," you blurted out, then explained, "Mine broke down a week ago, and it's beyond repair, so… a car."

"Tell me the make and model of your preference and I'll have it delivered to your home within a week's time," Zemo said calmly, then brushed a lock of hair away from your face, before allowing his fingers to trail delicately along your cheek and jawline. "Is that all, Kätzchen?"

"No. One more thing," you replied, then looked at him sternly. "You must agree to never speak of this to Bucky or Sam."

"You have my word," he assured you, smiling in amusement.

"Then I'm yours."

Zemo's smile faded slowly, and he merely stared at you for a split second, before cupping your face in his hands and pulled you into a searing kiss, full of ferocity and sheer desperation. It shouldn't have been this easy, to kiss a man who's done such terrible things – yet here you were, melting into his embrace, allowing him to pull you into his lap and straddle him, your hands resting on his shoulders and gripping the black fabric of his turtleneck. His hands laid flat against your back as he kissed you in this new position, slowly gliding down, down your sides and to your hips. He kissed you in a way that was feverish and fast and hungry, as his fingers dug into your skin, holding you firmly against him as if he were fearful that this was all a dream and you'd disappear at any moment. Upon taking a peek into his mind, you realized that was actually exactly what he was thinking. Additionally, he mentally spoke to you directly, somehow knowing you were reading his thoughts at that moment.

"Tell me if I do anything that you do not like, and know that you have absolute freedom to end this at any given moment."

You pulled away slightly to nod in confirmation that you received his message, before resuming the kiss. Mind hazy and instincts taking over, you found yourself tugging his bottom lip between your teeth, earning a low groan from Zemo. One of his hands darted upwards to grab a fistful of your hair, right against your scalp at the base of your neck, and he pulled on it harshly, causing you to let out a wonton moan. He then laid that hand flat against the back of your neck, holding your lips firmly against his as he kissed you with even more fervor, and the other vacated its position on your hip to slide slowly up your torso, until he began palming your beast through your shirt. You moaned softly against his lips, but not as loudly as a moment ago.

Zemo wanted more, needed more; he longed to hear you loud and desperate. So he delved that hand at your neck back into your hair, gripping it tightly once more, and used it to pull your head backwards a bit, so that he could have better access to your neck. The action itself, and the tightness of his grip, earned an embarrassingly loud moan to escape your lips, and you felt him smile against your skin. He moved his hand to the middle of your back, supporting you as you leaned back a bit to grant him better access. As he littered your neck and décolletage with kisses, you felt him pull the neckline of your blouse down a little, then felt the sharp pain of a bite on your chest, above your breast. When you looked at him with narrowed eyes, he wore a cocky little grin.

"You should not be surprised, Liebling. I know you saw that I've been wanting to do that all day when you read my mind," he noted. "Wear a high neckline tomorrow, it will be fine."

Before you could respond, Zemo pulled you flush against his chest with that hand behind your back, and into another heated kiss. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and without thinking, you ground your hips down on the bulge resting against your core beneath your skirt. He groaned, both hands flying to your hips to push them down again, guiding them as you repeated the action. It only took a minute or two of this before Zemo had enough, abruptly grabbing you by the throat and throwing you down onto the couch beside him. He then loomed over you, one hand propping himself up and the other applying slight pressure to your throat, gazing at you with admiration in those searing eyes, pupils blown wide from lust. You looked right back at him, pupils undoubtedly dilated as well, eyes half-lidded, panting a little, and hair a bit of a mess.

"You are an absolute vision," Zemo praised softly, to which you smiled, then he released his grip on your neck to lean down and kiss you again. That only lasted a moment, before he broke the kiss to pull your blouse up and over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. Your bra joined it shortly after, then he moved to your skirt, fussing with the zipper for a moment, but it seemed to be caught on something, as it wouldn't budge. Before you could interject and state that you'd get the zipper yourself, Zemo ripped the seam apart with his hands, before tearing the article from your body and tossing it like he had with the blouse. A gasp escaped you, but you had no time to think much about his actions, before he was pulling off your panties and bra as well, dropping them somewhere beside the couch.

He was then looming over you again, kissing you breathless as he rested on one elbow while the other hand toyed with your nipple, his knee coming up to rest between your legs as he laid between your body and the back of the couch. You tangled your fingers in Zemo's hair, moaning against his lips as you sought friction against his leg. He smiled softly against your lips, before your hands wandered, finding the hem of his shirt and tugging it off of him. You had just managed to get his belt off before his hand left your breast, trailing downwards across your torso as he moved his knee further away from you, before delving between your hips and expertly locating your clit.

No longer capable of focusing on ridding Zemo of his clothes, your hands gripped his shoulders, and he hissed deliciously as your nails dug into his skin when he began rubbing small, methodical circles on your clit. Small moans fell from your lips as he watched the way your mouth hung open slightly, face relaxed and eyes closed as you enjoyed his work. But again, he wanted more, needed more. Still observing you, he delved his middle and ring fingers into your core, causing you to let out a loud gasp that faded into a long, low moan. Zemo smiled to himself. That was the reaction he was dying for.

He kissed you senseless, drinking in your moans and gasps of pleasure like wine, his free hand cradling the back of your head as your arms wrapped around his neck. It didn't take Zemo long to find that sweet spot, deep inside you – as he'd subtly alluded to earlier – that longed for his attention the most.

You couldn't help but moan loudly and cry out, "Fuck! Baron!" Zemo growled low in your ear, clearly a fan of your usage of his title as he picked up the pace, fucking you with his fingers with expert precision and speed, sending you hurtling over the edge with a string of curses in both Sokovian and English. By the time he removed his fingers from you and stood, you were seeing stars, breathing heavily as you laid flat against the couch. When your dazed gaze found him, he was naked from the waist down, and was just finishing rolling a condom over his length. You had no idea where he got it from, but you were way beyond giving a shit at this point. Zemo then rejoined you on the couch, roughly spreading your legs apart as he kneeled between them, looking at you with a primal, deep hunger in his eyes.

"You are certain that you want this?"

"Yes, please – fuck," you cut yourself off as he began rubbing your clit again.

"Yes please, what?" His voice was low, teasing, as he continued his work below. "I want to hear you say it again, Kätzchen."

"Yes, please, Baron."

"Good girl."

Zemo took your leg and rested your calf on his shoulder, before easing himself into you, agonizingly slow. You watched through half-lidded eyes as his brows furrowed together, his jaw went slack, and his eyes squeezed shut as he bottomed out. He was silent, but you very much preferred it when he was a bit vocal. So, you flexed your muscles down there, and he groaned, letting his forehead fall against your shoulder.

"Do not do that if you want this to last long," Zemo suggested through clenched teeth. You smiled to yourself, then said the magic word that you knew would get him going.

"Yes, Baron."

He growled again, right in your ear, then sat more upright to begin a harsh, quick pace of thrusting. His hips collided with your body each time, causing a delicious sort of pain, and he leaned down to lock you in a messy, deep kiss.

A few minutes later, Zemo moved your other calf to his shoulder as well, and the new position enabled him to get delectably deep inside you. You raked your nails down his chest, watching as a shudder ran down his spine, all the while releasing small, breathless moans and whimpers. When he opened his eyes again to gaze down at you, he licked his lips before delving both hands under your head and into your hair, and forcefully gripped two fitfuls of it at the base of your skull. The moan that tore its way from your throat was animalistic, as your nails dug into his forearms as you desperately gripped them from their positions on either side of your head. Just then, he hit a spot deep inside of you, and that familiar, tight coil in your lower belly began to form.

"Fuck! Right there, Baron, please, right there!"

"As you wish, Schätzchen."

Zemo began to thrust even faster, careful to maintain the same angle as he released his grip on your hair and leaned up a bit, so that he could resume rubbing your clit. Moans began to fall from your lips practically endlessly, and somehow, you still needed more. More, more, more. You took his free hand and laid it on your neck, and he instinctively wrapped his fingers around your throat, careful to apply pressure on the sides but not the front, as to avoid harming you. When he opened his eyes once again and looked down at you, he couldn't stop the moan that escaped him.

"You will be the death of me, mein Engel," Zemo whispered, seemingly more to himself. All you could do was moan in response.

"Baron, I'm going to – fuck – I'm —"

"Yes, come for me, Kätzchen. I want to feel you."

That was all the encouragement it took. Well, that plus how perfectly he was rubbing your bundle of nerves, and how his pace nor angle had faltered once since you had requested exactly that. You came undone again, legs shaking as your nails clawed at his shoulder blades, earning a series of groans from him. As you came down from your high, Zemo's hips began to falter, enthralled by the waterfall you had become, soaking the base of his cock as your walls squeezed around him. His hand at your wet heat abruptly moved to grip your hip, at the same moment his hand around your throat clutched at your hair again, and he met his end with a loud, gruff moan as he spoke a mantra of nonsensical praises and your name.

Zemo rested on his arms on either side of your head, and he let your legs fall to the sides of him, breathing hard against your neck as he occasionally peppered kisses there. He remained inside you for a few moments, savoring the feeling, before you chose to have a bit of extra fun by flexing your lower muscles and squeezing yourself around him again. With a sharp intake of breath, he pulled out of you, shooting you a glare.

In Sokovian, he murmured, "You are a naughty little thing."

"You adore it."

"That I do," Zemo conceded, then stood and walked off to the restroom. You heard the tap run, and a few moments later, he returned with a glass of water for you, sitting beside your feet on the couch and resting his heels on the coffee table. He was exceptionally handsome like this; still catching his breath, sweat glistening on his forehead and chest, a content look upon his face. You spent a minute or two admiring him, before he looked over to you, and a smile blossomed on his lips.

"I cannot thank you enough for that. I must admit, I spent countless nights alone in my cell, dreaming about getting to touch a woman like that again. Especially considering the fall of our country, I never could have imagined I would be lucky enough to lay with a stunning, intelligent Sokovian woman."

"In the spirit of confessions, it's been a while for me, too. My last boyfriend was about two years ago. And I'm not the one-night-stand type. So, do with that what you will," you stated, earning a small chuckle from Zemo. You sat up so that you were sitting beside him, instead of laying down, as you continued. "I fantasized about it a lot myself, but I never even dared to think my next time would be as good as this was."

Zemo smiled, a mix of pride and joy, then his smile softened as he leaned toward you, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. "This doesn't have to be our last time, you know. I would be honored to have you as often as you'd allow me to. And I assure you, I would make it worth your while. I will give you whichever vehicles your heart desires, more jewelry than you know what to do with, take you to the most beautiful places in the world, dine at only the finest restaurants – and above all, treat you like my queen. Take care of me, and I will take care of you, Liebling."

You allowed your curiosity to get the better of you, as usual when you feared that someone was lying to you. You searched his mind for any fraction of false pretenses, but there were none. The man simply found you intoxicating, and would do whatever it takes to keep drinking you in.

The arrangement wouldn't exactly be an easy one, nor would it be all that wise – nor morally correct, in all honesty. But he was undeniably sexy, and the danger and reprehensibility of it all made it that much more alluring. And besides all that – the way his power and wealth turned you on, how good he was capable of making you feel – most Sokovians were dead, and you missed home. Getting to speak your native tongue with him, chat about your country – it made you feel at home with him.

But you wouldn't give Zemo the satisfaction of agreeing to him that quickly.

“We'll see.”

—————

Part Two

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[deceitfuldevil]

I’m vibing with the idea of 9. for our muses to have sex as a means of comforting each other with Zemo

I love that man omg

9. for muses to have sex as a means of comforting each other

Absolutely taking advantage of my rewatch of TFATWS along with seeing sugar daddy™ Zemo so I can write this.

Obvious smut and NSFW content ahead, MDNI (18+)!!

As much as the pain of Zemo being locked away in some German prison, you had to admit his house in Riga was luxurious. It had everything you could ever want or need, but it still felt empty without your lover's presence. You kept in touch with him as much as you could, but considering your relationship with Zemo, and his criminal past, you weren't allowed to know the specific prison he was sentenced to. So all your letters were addressed to some random German post office, then screened intimately. Meaning some poor prison guard had the displeasure of reading through your love letters to Zemo. But occasionally that was the thought that kept you going.

It had been 7 years since you'd last seen Zemo, and you knew that you'd likely never see him again; but you still held onto one small sliver of hope that one day he'd come walking back in that door. Little did you know, he was about to do just that.

It was a normal afternoon, the house quiet and empty as usual. You were sitting on the couch, reading a book as the colored light streamed in through the beautiful stained glass windows. Then you heard keys jangling in the lock of the door, confused you set your book down on the table and peered over the cushions of the couch. When the door opened, and you saw him step inside, your heart stopped.

You stood from your place and looked right at him, upon meeting your gaze a sympathetic smile adorned his face.

"Hel? Is it really you?" you called out, tears brimming your eyes as you paid no attention to the pair of men following Zemo inside.

"Yes my love, it's me." He said sweetly, his face showing age and exhaustion. His few words of confirmation being all you needed, your feet carrying you towards him faster than your mind could process his presence. You practically threw yourself onto him, arms wrapping tightly over his broad shoulders as he stumbled backwards a bit before embracing you back. Strong arms wrapping around your waist firmly, lifting you off the ground in a rib crushing hug as you nestled your face into his neck, breathing his scent that you missed so much.

"Uh... Zemo?" one of men said tentatively, stepping further into the house while eyeing you and Zemo.

Zemo gave you one final squeeze before releasing you from his grasp, setting you back down gently as he grabbed you hand in place of holding on to you entirely. He was never going to let you go again.

"Y/n, this is Sam and James. I'm helping them with some.. business." Zemo said shortly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles as you looked at the men curiously, quickly recognizing them.

"Sam, James, this is y/n. They are my lover." Zemo explained to the pair, moving to stand in front of you protectively.

"Lover? What about that wife and kid of yours you worked so hard to avenge after Sokovia?" Sam asked expectantly, to be fair he had a point.

"My wife, the whole marriage was purely political. Not to say I didn't like her, but she was always more of a friend to me than anything else. We got married because that's what the royals expected of us, the same for why we had a child together. She had another lover too, and she knew about y/n. It's always been them." he elaborated, wrapping an arm around you, knowing how much you missed his wife and son. You were close to them too.

"Okay then, so what's our next move?" James asked, not truly caring for Zemo's sob story.

"Our next move is to lay low, stay inside for the evening after the stunt we just pulled in Madipoor." Zemo said, walking towards the kitchen with you.

"Lay low? What so you can just make up for lost time with this lover of yours?" Sam asked offensively, prompting you to reach for a kitchen knife out of the block and hold it to Sam's neck.

"I have a name, it's y/n." you said lowly, pulling the knife away just as quickly as you had held it to his throat. "Don't forget you're in my, our house now." you finished off, Zemo's had slipping off your shoulder and wrapping around your waist as you stared Sam down.

"You and James can decide who gets the couch... and who gets the floor. Y/n and I will be retiring in the bedroom for the night." Zemo said, tightening his grip on your waist as he led you to the hallway. James and Sam didn't bother trying to object this time.

As soon as Zemo closed the bedroom door behind him, you immediately turned around and embraced him again. The tears you had been holding back in front of Sam and James now spilling out onto the neck of Zemo's shirt. Not that he minded, Helmut just traced his hands up and down the curvature of your spine as he nudged you backwards towards the bed so you could both sit down.

Your knees buckled at the backs of them hit the edge of the bed, hopping up and sitting on the edge as you pried yourself away from your lover. Zemo shed his jacket and set down next to you, taking your nimble hands in his large rougher ones.

"I missed you so much Helmut." you spoke softly, staring down at your hands in his. "The idea that you were never coming home, the thought that I was never going to see you again, it was so hard; I've never felt so incredibly alone." you further on, looking up to meet his soulful gaze.

"Dragosté..." Zemo trailed off, removing one of his hands from yours and sweeping it under your chin. "I'm so sorry I couldn't come back to you sooner, those thoughts that you's never see me again, I promise they were never true. I was always going to find my way back to you." He spoke sweetly. "Do you know why?" He asked.

"Why?" you asked with a sniffle, a few more tears gently streaming down your face.

"Because the thought of you, the memories of our time together, that's what got me through my time in prison." Zemo explain, his eyes becoming glossy as he remembered all the times he thought of you to get him through. "That empty isolated cell, my only contact with others was when guards would bring me meals. Years spent pacing around the same small space, over and over again. It was you, it's always been you." Zemo finished, a single tear falling from his eye.

A warm smile graced your face as you pressed your forehead to his. "I love you so so much Helmut." you said lovingly as one final tear fell down your face. Zemo leaned in to your cheek, kissing away the droplet sweetly. But he didn't stop there, Zemo continued to press soft kisses all over your face. Each one more prolonged than the last, one for every year he was gone. The last kiss he pressed was to your lips, tender and slow. As he pulled away, he didn't move far. His breath fanning over your lips as something deep within your core was ignited.

You pressed forward and kissed Zemo again with vigor, and he immediately matched your passion and backed you up further onto the bed, pinning you below him as he helped you to remove your clothes. Zemo shed his own clothes while simultaneously keeping you as close as possible.

"I still can't believe you're really here." you spoke tearfully, joy emitted from your tone as Zemo lined himself up with your entrance. "I'm here my love," he said kindly, leaning down and kissing you passionately one more time as he slipped inside your heat. "...and I'm never leaving you again." he promised as bottomed out, his thick member stretching you out in such a delicious way.

Feeling Zemo inside you once again, it made you feel whole again. The sensation of his tip twitching deep inside of you, allowed for a moan to slip from your lips. "After all this time, you still feel so perfect." Helmut said lovingly, slowly drawing out and thrusting back into you. He held you close as you could already feel yourself falling off the edge, it had been so long, too long after all.

"Hel I, I'm close." you whine pitifully, Zemo gently kissed your temple and said "Don't worry love, I am too." reassuringly as he brought one hand down to rub gentle circles on your clit, encouraging you to fall off the euphoric edge with him. His pace gradually picked up as your back arched up to match his thrusts. Nothing but content moans and whines falling from your lips as Zemo sucked a sweet mark on your neck, his hips stuttering inside of you as your eyes fluttered shut.

"I-I love you, Zemo." you said softly, coming back down from your orgasm. "I love you too y/n, so much." He said sweetly, kissing you once more before allowing you to fall asleep in his embrace.

—

dedicated to my fav mutual who deserves the world @wannabemurdock everything will be okay, eventually.

#marvel #mcu #cute #fan fic #fan fiction #fluff #love #au #sky’s doing requests now #taking requests #request #requests open #helmut zemo x y/n #baron zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #zemo smut #zemo x you #zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo x you #captain american civil war #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #sugar daddy zemo #zemo imagine #helmut zemo imagine #baron zemo imagine #mcu x reader

[loveofafangirl]

Marvelous

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader (no gender, race, body type given)

Synopsis: Zemo reflects on the life you've shared and how much you've helped him. *Fluff* (with a tiny bit of hurt/comfort and n*fw if you squint at the end)

Word Count: ~650

“What?” Sensing Zemo's lingering gaze, you look up from your book. The two of you were relaxing in bed at the end of a long day. You can't help but smile as you catch his eye.

He brushes the back of his hand gently across your cheek. “You’re marvelous!” His lips press a delicate kiss on your forehead in adoration.

“Not that I’m looking to argue, but what exactly did I do?” You question curiously, pushing your book to the side, giving him your full attention.

“You are—you!” He states simply, his gaze never wavering from you.

You shake your head as a low laugh escapes your lips, not sure what that meant.

He wraps his arms around you, guiding you into his embrace. His long fingers cascade delicately up and down your spine as he holds you safely in his arms. "I never imagined I could find someone—" he pauses, taking a moment to consider his words and reflect on your time together over the past several months. "I thought the scars of the past—they would always remain. The hurt and pain—they were now a part of who I was."

"Helm—"

"I don't know if I deserve this life that we have," he continues with a deep sigh. His head falls to the sides in consideration. "I feel as though I do not, or at least should not. In my vengeance, I brought death and untold loss to others. I did not hold any resentment or grudge for my imprisonment. Unlike the others, I am willing to pay for the consequences that resulted from my actions. Yet, there are times when I feel this is still the justice I deserve, not this life—and certainly not you."

"Don't do that." You prop yourself up quickly. "You deserve this life. You are more than you think of yourself. You've helped saved others when no one else would. You've brought life where before there was only death. You don't deserve the fate of a prisoner. You have earned your freedom and this life—our life."

His lips press together, and his eyes close as a smile stretches across his features. "Hence, why it is that you are marvelous, y/n." His voice is softer, the sound of your name a tender breath on his lips. "I could not have believed that there would be anyone who could see the shadow of the man I once was and pull him from the ashes of his own demise."

When his gaze meets yours this time, it is open and warm. You feel as though you can see all of him in his dark, soulful eyes, perhaps fully for the first time. The walls are gone, and the man who had been trapped inside was finally free.

He cradles your face, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek. He mouths the words, "Thank you."

You lean into his touch, at a loss for words. The once-feared terrorist simply needed someone to believe in him again. Your eyes mist over wondering how many victims the world had torn down until there was nothing left of the person they once were or could be, and then labeled them monsters. "I didn't do anything," you stumble to say.

"Liebling, you did everything."

You chew the corner of your cheek under the heat of his gaze.

"You are everything to me." He lifts your chin to him, brushing a delicate kiss on your lips. "I need you to know that in case anything were ever to happen to me. Okay?"

You nod, understanding the importance of his words. You trusted his team—well, you tried to trust his team. There were those you had concerns about, but so far, they had always brought him back safe to you. "You're everything to me, too."

He kisses you softly and slowly, letting the warmth between the two of you blossom. Time falls away until all that remains is you. He will take his time, caressing and worshiping you, reminding you just how important and marvelous you are.

A/N: I headcanon this conversation had to take place before he could finally say I love you in "Three Words"

Tags in reblog, please let me know if you would like to be added or removed

#baron zemo #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x yn #baron zemo fluff #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #zemo #zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo x yn #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x yn #baron zemo fan fiction #baron zemo fanfiction #marvel fic #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws

[eyeofthebrainstorm]

You no the scene that Stan describes in the interview that's going around, with the robe (he could see half of il his chest) and the steamy elevator... That is Winterbaron gold, right? You see it right?

#Zemo #baron zemo #bucky barnes #winterbaron #zemobucky #I need a fan fic #I'd do it my self but I don't have the time #I'll make art eventually

[ay0nha]

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde: Session #3

(Working) Summary: Following the events of TFATWS, Zemo is sentenced to live his days out in the Raft. He knew what to expect, or so he thought. Nobody could have prepared him to meet Dr. Ruth Jekyll, the therapist assigned to him every Monday, Friday, and occasional Wednesday for an hour at a time. Sixty minutes is much longer than one would think.

Pairing: Zemo x femme!OC (therapist)

Word Count: ~3K?

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying

A/N: Had this in my drafts for MONTHS. yolo bitches, no proof reading and I don’t remember the plot, just doing some spring (winter) cleaning. Thanks to anyone who reads this lol.

"This is a lovely view."

"You're tense today."

"Merely, acknowledging the view," Zemo's eyes remained on the dreary view. It was storming today and somehow it seemed like it was the reason Zemo was acting the way he was.

"Did something happen since the last time we spoke?" I attempted, once again, to pull something out of him. Half of the time had gone by and all he seemed interested in was anything but what I had to say.

I refused to show him how it bother me, but it didn't matter. Zemo's eyes remained locked to the scene beside us. It was strange to call it a window as it was more of a glass wall with thick, metal edges. Looking out, there was nothing but stormy-looking skies, that matched the raging water. Every time I looked out it just reminded me that we were stranded out here surrounded by water that held toxic jellyfish and a forcefield that sealed off the courtyard.

"Did you read my notes?" He asked quietly, still not offering his eyes to me. He was throwing me a very small bone.  

"I attempted to," I let out a breath, settling my hands on my lap, "Unfortunately, though, it might take me a bit longer than expected since I am not well versed in German."

"I can translate for you."

"Is that what you want?" I prodded even though I wanted to hand him the book right now just so I could hear him speak German again. However, he went quiet again. "Well, if you're not willing to talk, I will."

I knew not every meeting would be perfect, that would be hypocritical of the work I did. Maybe I was fabricating it, but when I looked up at Zemo, looking at his side profile gazing out the window, it looked like he wanted to talk but just didn't know how. So I was willing to try and pry it out of him if I could.

"I understand where this stems from," I hinted at the loss of his family. I had the mistake of addressing it a little too directly the last time. It was now the first on the list of topics I would wait for him to bring up, rather than me, "But clearly you're interested in possible future relationship building, otherwise you wouldn't have chosen Schellenbaum's book."

Silence, yet again.

I was starting to get frustrated. I was a firm believer in silence, silence is important to healing. However, silence is like treading in water where at any moment you can sink and have no strength to come back up to the surface. It is a fine line between restorative and debilitating. Today chose to be debilitating.

"Granted the relationships Schellenbaum discusses are a bit more...romantic oriented," I spoke intently, knowing if he wanted to he could twist my words at a moment's notice for his own amusement, "I'm sure you can still apply it to other relationships."

I could see his thought process, probably wondering what kind of relationship could he truly form in here. I asked myself the same question. Part of me wanted to be happy that Zemo's demeanor was different today. It showed me that there was more to him than just a clever quip or intelligent fact. But it bothered me that he was bothered today and that bothered me.

"You've spent more time, money, and energy on analyzing, attacking, planning, plotting things for other people. Have you considered putting that same energy into yourself?"

I was once again hit with silence.

"Let me rephrase," I backtracked, "How would you describe your relationship with yourself?"

I hadn't expected an answer even if I wanted one. I was content with getting my points out into the opening, knowing he had at least heard what I was asking. He was a thinker and there was no doubt in my mind that even if he was ignoring me, he would still have to think about what I said whether he liked it or not.

"I want to see you Wednesday," This seemed to catch his attention, his eyes finally meeting mine, unsure of what to say, "What is your schedule full?"

"I think I can pencil you in."

"How kind of you, Baron."

---

"Am I boring you, Mr. Hyde?" I chided softly as Zemo's eyelids started to flutter closed.

"I'm...tired today,"  This was the first time he himself wasn't prepared for his own answer.  We had made some progress over the few weeks, but usually, he only regurgitated things that could be found either in his file or something anyone could find in a newspaper clipping. Nothing that would tell me how he was in the present moment.

"Would you like to rest?" He only stared at me, not allowing himself to respond. I was worried that our sessions weren't bringing him anywhere as he become quieter and quieter as time went on. It was hard to tell if this was him showing his own version of vulnerability or if he was trying to shut me out. However, I was confident that he saw me as neutral territory even if I was technically part of his incarceration. He only confirmed this as he started to blink heavier and heavier until his eyes were completely shut.  

The vulnerability in sleeping especially for someone who has had to be on edge for more than I'd like to think about would be beyond something I could ever imagine. I listened to his breathing, the faint inhale through his nose and the exhales through his slightly parted lips. I caught myself glancing at him more than I would like, but I couldn't help it. He was right there for me to watch. I wasn't trying to be creepy, I was just surprised at his almost eager vulnerability. His physical position even exposed him. He had slumped down in the sofa chair significantly, hands folded comfortably over his stomach, while his feet were planted firmly to the ground. He was no longer surveying the area, checking the entrance every few seconds. He was simply...asleep.

I thought about getting up and floating around the room, tidying up from the week, read something, do anything, but I was too afraid to wake him up. Zemo had come in today looking worse for wear. Anyone could tell things were catching up with him. He masked it extremely well. He had held it in for so long and so well, but today he proved he was only human. So taking a page from his book, I slumped into my seat and watched the water around us. For as serious as this place was it was meditative. It had its moments, but it could never last. With a sharp inhale of breath, Zemo's eyes shot open as his posture went rigid before looking around.

"Are you alright?" I looked up from my thoughts. I masked my concern, glazing my words over as smoothly as I could.

"Fine," He cleared his throat, trying to cover up the crazed look in his eyes.

"Does that happen often?"

"What?" He played dumb for his own sake.

"The dreams."

"It'll pass." He sniffed in slightly adjusting himself in the seat, settling on a rigid posture in his chair. As much as he wanted that mask to be back on, there were now cracks I could easily see through.

I nodded my head, unsure if he was planning to continue, but giving him space if he wanted to proceed. He didn't. Reading his body language, I could tell he was struggling to calm himself. His knuckles were turning white as he clasped his hands together, his chest was rising and falling heavily, and his eyes tried not to dart to any vulnerable areas of the room. He didn't like that I was watching him so intently, understanding every thought that passed through his mind during his recovery. It had almost felt cruel with my scrutinizing gaze, but I wanted to absorb anything I could.

After a few beats, with my voice as stable as I could make it, I changed the subject, "You're a well-educated man...Teach me something."

"Excuse me?"  

"Teach me something," I shrugged, praying he'd run with it anything to calm the wildness behind his eyes.

"I'm not sure I have anything interesting to teach you." His tone sounded defeated, unsure of how to respond to me, but eager to talk about anything but the elephant in the room, "Especially not here."

"Boring."

"Perhaps if there is something you would like to learn, I may assist you," He suggested.

"A comprise," I nodded my head approvingly, "Let me see. Do you know how to knit?"

Zemo started to smile, attempting to hold back a larger one, "I can certainly try."

"So, no," I let myself smile, hoping to create an even lighter atmosphere, "I've been trying to get into crafts more, but it seems like the world is always against me."

I was specifically trained to keep the conversation going, no matter how many times it died. But I felt cautious, too cautious on continuing this one with Zemo. The ends of my sentence were always left open, welcoming more only if my counterpart wanted to. However, now repeating what I had just said aloud in my head, I realized I felt timid.  It was something trivial, but by seeing Zemo's face now, I could tell he realized the same thing; that I had revealed something personal. It was another thing I was trained not to do and usually something I never seemed to struggle with until now as it slipped almost undetected out of my mouth.

Just as I moved on from his nightmare, Zemo moved the conversation on telling me he would pay no mind to my misstep, "Do you have scratch paper?"

"Do I have scratch paper?" I scoffed playfully, shaking off the fleeting feeling of shyness, getting up to grab the stack I used as printer paper.

Placing it in front of him, he grabbed a piece, handing it to me first before getting a piece for himself. He told me to copy what he did best I could. At first, I followed blindly, trying to fold the paper in the same crisp manner. I asked if we were making airplanes to throw at the guards, which made him smile, but then he responded by saying we were doing origami.

"I took this up when I was in Berlin," He noted as he folded the final corner. He was talking about his last prison sentence at the Berlin Correctional Facility where it was nine to one, prisoners to guards, yet still managed to escape. In the same place, he had more freedom than here, "The person who I would eat lunch with taught me."

I hummed thoughtfully as he told me more about his days in Berlin. It was interesting how fondly he remembered then.

"Unfortunately, I only know how to fold it into a crane," Zemo held up a crisp crane, it looked like he hadn't been a day out of practice.

"I'm not sure you can call mine a crane," I held up a very crumpled-looking bird.

"Ah, that's not bad," Zemo said softly as he leaned forward reaching out for me to hand it to him, which I did, "A little rough around the edges, but nothing practice can't fix."

I watched him hold the paper gently, making slight corrections. It was fascinating to see someone who had done so much, caused so much damage, be so gentle. His fingers were slender, each move calculated.

However, just as he made his way to the tail-end, my eyes flicked to the door's small window, a flash of something caught my eye. "What was that?"

"I'm just about done-

"Sh!" I held up my finger to stop him just as a loud boom was heard.

Zemo got up immediately, hardening in a flash. He turned around with a look on his face I never thought I'd see. It was like a flip was switched, he was no longer the polite,  slightly silly, but experienced and showing his past, "Stay. Here."

"What?" I got up, to see what he was talking about, all my   professionalism is thrown out the door with each step closer to him. We had drills for this very thing monthly, but none of the rules seemed to come to mind.

Rule #1: Always keep your distance.  

"You're not going out there!" I hissed at him. The commotion commenced in seconds. There was shouting and banging and nothing that indicated we should leave the safety of the room.

I went to the door as Zemo looked around the room, thinking of what to do next. There was no longer a guard outside the door from what I could see from the small square window.  As if on cue, the emergency signal started to flash and the alarm indicated someone had either escaped or was in the process of. Zemo had connected the dots much quicker than I had as he crossed the room again to stand next to me. I noticed now how he had set up a makeshift shelter for me made out of the furniture in the room. I hadn't even noticed he moved them as my body was still trying to catch up to the event.

"Did you hear me?" Zemo asked, touching my shoulder, touching me for the first time. His hand was warm against my arm causing a shock to run  through my system,  "Ruth, I'm serious. Stay put and I'll get you when  it's safe."

"No," I grabbed him by his wrist  as if it was inherent, "Don't go out there. Please."

Rule #2: Never  make contact.

He searched my eyes for a moment, then glanced down to where our   hands connected. I immediately disconnected us and he began working to   get himself out of his handcuffs, taking almost no time to do so.  I hadn't had enough time to work through my initial shock of how easy that was for him before they were on the floor.

He looked at me briefly as his eyes scanned the room for any imminent threats, "I mean it."

It felt like we were missing something. He felt it too, expressing it differently than I would have. But our eyes were obvious, scanning each other’s faces to see if the feeling was mutual only to find out we were distracted. No. Focused on the sudden closeness. However before I let that thought cross my mind again, I watched Zemo head towards the door. Again, as if it was second nature, I pulled his arm back. I almost flinched at my impulsivity. But the words tumbled out of me before I could in precautionary gratitude,"Thank you."

Rule #3: No fraternizing with the enemy.

#baron zemo #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #after tfatws #tfatws #daniel brühl #marvel #fic #fan fic #zemo fanfic

[awhorewithissues]

guess who can't stop remembering all their trauma from when they were a kid...

✨this twat ✨

I could really use some comfort from Zemo or Bucky and them just telling me shit is gonna be fine cause currently things ain't feeling that way.

#trauma #repressed memories #honestly can my brain just fuck off #tfatws #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #comfort zemo #comfort bucky #fan fic

[liz-allyn]

new fic art ~ liars and thieves

I’m jumpin in! Book cover art for a new story I’m going to *attempt* to write.

Liars and Thieves - a thriller, starring Daniel Brühl

“My name is Zemo—” “I don’t care,” she snapped back with a defiant gaze. She watched his lip curl just slightly into the beginnings of a scowl. He reached up and removed his glasses.  Through the video screen she spotted a shift in the temperature of his eyes. They were almost black. He clenched his jaw, tilting his head slightly to the side.  “Perhaps you should, Ava,” he responded with an unsettling sweetness in his voice.  His eyes burned coldly. She swallowed dryly. He could definitely see her. His eyes saw straight through the camera lens, through the video screen, through her clothes, through her chest, into her soul. Into her nightmares. “Because now,” he smirked, “you belong to me.”

No man on earth is a match for the world’s most dangerous woman - Ava made sure of that. But when a hit goes south, she wakes up a prisoner in a plate glass cell surrounded by cameras. The mysterious man that kidnapped her knows exactly who she is, and intends to push her to her limits.

GOTTDAM intros are hard. I hate the assassin trope but I wanted to do something with it. 

Started as a non-MCU compliant Zemo fic and morphed into something else.

Also, not to hate on anyone else's work, but I personally don’t like reading “real people” fan fiction. It just takes me out of the story too much. I can read Y/N stuff but it’s so much smoother to have a character name in place. And I tried to make this one have a personality. When writing this I’m thinking more like “this is a character I want Daniel to play.”

First chapters are up here. Please tell me what you think! Also, I might suck and this and I’m really new at writing for people’s eyes, so any kind feedback is welcome.

#daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #the alienist #the cloverfield paradox #tfatws #baron zemo #helmut zemo #zemo fic #zemo #falcon and the winter soldier #fanfic #laszlo kreizler #dedicated to the 24 other DB fans in here

[leylinefiction]

No More Yesterdays

Here are the links to the entire story of No More Yesterdays: 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15 

Epilogue

#fan fic #tfatws #Bucky Barnes #baron zemo #sam wilson #bucky barnes x oc #baron zemo x oc

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hey! Could I request a fic where the reader and Bucky like each other and she has to pretend she’s Zemo’s girlfriend for the Madripor mission? Bucky gets jealous and all that jazz and they confess their feelings :)

Madripoor Muse

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | Bucky harbours feelings for you, but despite Sam’s inflatable encouragement, refuses to inform you of them. However, seeing you pretend to be Zemo’s girlfriend whilst on a mission, more so when the criminal knows what strings he is pulling at, happens to infuriate him inevitably.

Warnings | jealousy, violence, references to sex work (there is nothing wrong with it, everyone is free to do what they want or need to do to get by, angst, mentions of death, grief, smut, unprotected sex, fluff, swearing

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

“I mean, if he looks like a pimp, then I look like one of his workers.” Sam snorted at your words, as Bucky’s eyes trailed down the skin that was exposed through the small piece of fabric, that in modern days, was considered a dress.

Zemo simply sighed at the pair of you, shaking his head as though the former winter soldier would understand his point. “It’s Madripoor, not an american graduation. You are not going to be clothed in long robes in this place, expression is in the body, and how it is clothed.”

“Or not clothed.” Bucky retorted, frowning at how you shuffled beneath the criminal’s gaze, crossing your arms, which definitely did not help the situation, considering that it did nothing more than make your breasts rise. Admitting defeat, you let them fall, holding them to your sides, outlining your hips, which once more, was not how you wished to be portrayed as you walked through the illuminated air, careful to keep pace in your heels.

“We all have a part to play, winter soldier.” Helmut spoke, his accent causing waves to ripple through the euphoria of lights that lay up ahead. “I am me, you are you, Sam is the Smiling Tiger, and...”

“I’m a hooker?” Once more, Zemo showed disappointment, pinching the bridge of his nose as he turned to you. It seemed that tonight, you, a smart and well coordinated avenger, was absolutely adoring testing his patience, but that was his trick.

He was the captive here, forced to help the forsaken superheroes that had prompted him with the idea of escaping from the government’s ensured facility. And it was without a doubt that he would mess with their minds each chance that he got.

“No, think of yourself as more personalised to one person than that y/n. Your as you people say ‘arm candy’.” He used quotations with his fingers, causing you to reach for Sam’s arm to assume the role. “Oh no, not his.” Zemo made a come here motion, making you gulp.

“You’re kidding, right?” Bucky huffed, glaring unimpressed towards the Baron, who only tutted in reply, implying that he indeed was serious. “This is stupid.”

“Stupid would be allowing this hurrah of new age super soldiers to continue their war path, don’t you think James?” Zemo asked condescendingly, holding his arm out for you to grasp onto, so that you would look more than an associate, or a serum induced bodyguard.

“Me posing as your sugar baby is stupid.” You muttered, as you walked, Bucky on look out behind you, as he glared frustratedly at where you and the mass murderer were touching.

Zemo tugged you by the arm for the comment, causing you to roll your eyes at the man that had tried his best and succeeded, at destroying your team; your family. Nevertheless, you followed his stride, well aware of the sharp eyes of the man behind you.

As you entered the club, a spectrum of blue lights illuminated your skin, as you stared around in wander. There was a variety of all didn’t people, born from different virtues, wealths and races all intermingling around in the space.

If Zemo didn’t have a leash on your arm, you’d have stared for a little longer, perhaps even gotten purposely lost in the sea of bodies that flashed with such ambition and prospect. All were designed to suit their surroundings, and you wished that you could fit in that easily too.

But you were lost, roped into this journey by the Falcon, the man that denied Steve’s wishes and passed on the shield to firmer hands, still uncertain of where you were planning on going. What you needed was a fight, a reason to keep roaming upon the earth. If you came up empty, you may have well have taken up Thor’s offer, and accompanied him with his new friends.

The avengers were disbanded, dotted with different services. You’d heard nothing from Wanda, it appeared that her phone had been cut off, leaving you gravely confused, but you understood that she needed time to mourn. But you couldn’t give yourself the same pampering, if you did so, then all purpose of life would slip through your fingers, and you’d be left vulnerable, a hero that willingly fell from their graces.

Finally you reached the bar, with the shadow of the winter soldier hovering over your shoulder, watching as Zemo’s untrustworthy hand trailed along your furthest collarbone, using it as his sway to grab your attention. He set his sights upon his touch, glaring harshly at it.

No one would question the expression that he wore, it was only natural for his reputation to be proceeded with such a dagger like gaze; he was supposed to be playing the killer that he once was after all.

“My lady, what would you like to drink?” Helmut asked, turning your gaze towards his, gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forbidding you from even try to look away from his sly eyes.

“White wine will do the trick, my love.” The words felt like spew falling from your mouth, but you withheld the impulse to grimace, instead, flashing him a flirtatious smile, fanning his face with your eyelashes as you were still held to face him.

“Fine choice.” He smirked, nodding towards the bartender, who had just presented the Smiling Tiger imposter with a shot that had the intestines of a snake floating around in its liquid. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Sam hesitated to drink it for a moment, before throwing it down the hatch, treating it as an old trick.

Madripoor, for an island trapped in violence, didn’t appear that bad on the outside. That was, until the shooting began, causing the lot of you to leg it from the citizens targeting their rifled hardware towards you, running with your lives depending on it.

You had temporarily lost Zemo, as you put head your own safety, your pace and spot being just between Sam and Bucky, as the first man’s arms flailed as he insisted that he could not run in the heels that he was wearing. Huh, you’d be running in heels all your life, maybe he shoulda learned how to do so earlier, it came as a great talent.

Gunshots rang out, as a hooded figure unveiled themselves, introducing the older face of a blonde that you had once knew. It had been quite some time since you had last seen her, all having gone your separate ways to evade the law, and its cruel jurisdiction. “Sharon?” Bucky spoke, instantly recognising the woman that had aided them in the past.

Once you were all reintroduced, and met with her annoyance, which was surely understandable, she led you to her property, where you were able to part from the Sokovian, and share your distaste to the man, as well as remove the skimpy dress.

It pooled at your feet as you tossed it from your ankle, leaving you in nothing more than your underwear. As you squinted, searching for some reason that you were continuing with this foolishness of thinking that the world still considered you a hero, an echo of a knock rattled against the door. It was metal upon wood; Bucky.

“Come in.” You spoke, as you tied a spare robe around your waist, watching as the super soldier, who appeared less stoic, and more human stepped into the room, closing the door behind his emerging shadow. “You alright man?”

Bucky’s eyes drifted down for a moment, before they splintered back up towards your face, his jaw physically tensing, the notion well visible. He breathed in a long breath through his nose, as he stepped closer, his brow harsh and lined upon his forehead.

“I didn’t like Zemo putting his filthy hands on you.” He admitted aloud, the words of Sharon, teasing him for pining after someone that he had once thought of as no more than a friend of Steve’s. But now that man was gone, and so was the one that he used to be. Instead, he was left standing on his own feet, having to find balance by himself somehow.

“Neither did I.” You informed him. “It was like he was pulling back the images of his collapsing country, pouring every ounce of pain and hatred upon me, evading my mind with guilt, and the memories of what it all amounted to. None of it had been worth it, living like this. We’re treated like animals, no longer idols or heroes, people under the big thumb that keeps pressing down on us.”

“Well we’re both pressed down, limited to our rules and the outlines they want us to obey.” He nodded, raising his flesh hand to your collarbone, wanting to mark his touch upon it to remove that of Zemo’s. At his action, your breath hitched, but you allowed him to sweep his pads over the flesh, shuffling indefinitely closer so that you were chest to chest.

“We’re dangerous in their eyes. That’s a mindset they have in common with our prisoner out there.” You whispered, frowning from the thought. Two monarchies, one still whilst the other already fallen, served the same opinions, though, only one could continue to take action. Zemo was a Baron, but of what country now?

Like all, his home had been vanquished into smithereens, the foundations collapsing into rubble, the history disappearing with its lands, having thrown its dusty remnants in your face.

“I’m fine with being considered dangerous so long as I’m not alone.” He pinched your chin, tilting your head, this time though, you felt in his grasp. It didn’t belong to that of an enemy, it was one of an ally, a friend. “Tell me I’m not alone y/n.”

“I’m here James.” You stared up at him with focused pools, biting your lip as your mind went haywire over everything. “The Wakandans will come for him, you do realise that, right?” He hummed in reply, briskly bringing his metal hand to toy with the belt of the white wrap around.

“Do you think that you could show me that I’m not alone?” He nervously asked, shuffling his weight from foot to foot, as he awaited a reply. But instead of words, he earned himself the sensation of your lips upon his, collaborating in a touch starved jumble of grunts. “You’re beautiful, like...”

“Like what Barnes?” You prompted, brushing your palms onto his shoulders, easing his tenseness. Expectedly, you watched him through half lidded eyes as you leant up to plant supple kisses upon his neck, sucking his skin into your mouth, as though you were trying to thread it gently with your teeth.

“A muse.” He sighed, thinking for a momentum, before dragging your hair through his vibranium fist, lightly grinning as he heard your breath wither from the sensation. “A beautiful muse, one that reminds me to be better everyday. I want to become someone better for you.”

“You shouldn’t.” You unlatched your mouth from him, frowning lightly at the brunette man. “You should become better for nobody but yourself Buck, each day, it’s about self growth, fixing everything that you have ever been taught so that you can learn to do better next time, so that no one else will die because of your expense.”

Bucky nodded, allowing your words to sink in. His fingers returned to playing with the waist band on your robe, his eyes gazing into your own, as he fiddled with the material. “Can I?”

“Go ahead.” You granted him permission, allowing him to push the coverage from you, his eyes widening at seeing you in nothing more than your underwear. His sight traced every curve and bump and dip that was upon your shape, licking his dry lips to make his gawking less subtle.

“You’re killing me doll.” He leant his head back, as he raked his contrasting fingertips down your shoulders, all the way to the small of your back. You smirked, grasping him through his jeans, earning yourself a moan from the elder man.

“I said it’s all about self growth, didn’t I? It seems that you are taking that in quite a literal sense.” You rubbed him through the denim, finding it unsurprising as the man backed you towards the bed, your knees hitting the end sending you falling onto the mattress.

Bucky crawled his way atop of you, rutting his hips against your own. It had been so long since he had been permitted to be this free, and he knew for sure, this would be a secret that he would not inform any therapist of. This was private, the sentiment making it close to his weathered heart.

His lips returned to your own, as your hands scaled beneath your shirt, lightly tracing the scars. He wasn’t as insecure as he thought he’d be about someone touching them, perhaps it was because many of your own materialised stories were written in your skin, or that you understood what it meant to be a soldier, serving under orders.

It didn’t matter too much, he wasn’t overthinking it. Instead, he was yearning as he grasped at the straps of your bra, trying to pull it over your head, as was done with the dames back in his day, but the effort seemed more difficult. Lightly leaning away from him, you reached around your back, unclamping the contraption before tossing it out of his sight.

He didn’t care to ask what the modern day had done to the garment, he was far too focused on your pert nipples, and how they stood to attention before him. The super soldier reached forwards, running his smooth hands upon the underneath of your breasts, before interacting with the present buds, softly tugging at them with his whimsical fingers.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” Released from you as a sign, instantly becoming pleased as Bucky stripped himself from everything but his underwear, leaving a nest of his clothes upon the wooden floor, as he leant his head down, capturing your left nipple within the warmth of his mouth, moaning lightly as your hands weaved through his locks, tugging lightly at the short roots. “Stop teasing Buck.”

He didn’t miss the way your eyes roll from the slowness of motions, and thus, he reached down, and snapped the band of your underwear, the ripping noise audible, as he then pulled his boxers down, revealing his bobbing cock, that was directing its tip towards your entrance.

With a glance down, he lightly drooled at the way your cunt clenched around nothing, quickly swiping his fingers through your slit, as he brought them up to his lips, humming contently at the flavour that graced his tastebuds. “Need to be in you doll.”

“Need you in me soldier.” You taunted back, digging your knuckles into his shoulders as you pressed him against you, pushing your tongue into his mouth, as he suddenly bottomed out inside of you, waiting for a moment for the pair of you to adjust to the sensations.

He was in you, filling you to the brim, as you tucked your heels into the base of his back, lightly rotating your hips up, as your tongue chased his own, sucking on it as you nipped at the end, causing him to unintentionally jerk his rigid cock into you.

That had prompted him to start moving, screwing his hands into the satin sheets either side of your head, as your bodies succumbed the others to waves of pleasure. It was a luxury, having an outlet to all the stress that your duty brought. If you could just pass the mantle on like Steve had done, and Clint was in the process of doing, you would.

But it was all you had known; the gritty route, that had spanned the entirety of your tale. And Bucky now became a part of it, as he became a part of you, unravelling your vulnerabilities with sleek thrusts into your cunt, and smooth words that had swept you from your feet and had landed you in a bed.

A bed thats structure was creaking from the strength behind the animalistic carnage that you spent on one another. His teeth pulled at your lip, opening your mouth so that you could use him as an oxygen mask. Neither one of you had noticed the door opened, and an unimpressed Sharon standing in the entry way, her agent arms crossed unamused.

She cleared her throat, which made Bucky still inside of you, and you to clutch onto his back, to cover the decency of your chest. “You let me go on the run, then you fuck in my bed. It’s like I’m not allowed to belong anywhere.”

“Sharon-“ she halted your speech by raising a finger, her eyebrows pointedly telling you not to bother trying to speak, as sweat beading down your body. Bucky subtly rolled from atop of you, quickly pulling the sheets over you both, giving Sharon views that she neither wanted nor appreciated.

That was grittiness, she was a hustler, not a once avenger. A part of you wished she would understand that, as much as it would be painful to hear, she hadn’t been the top of anyone’s list. She had disappeared, and from so, she had became unreachable, practically falling off the face of the earth.

But she had been here, in Madripoor, the island of bones and whatever else Zemo had described it to be. “You two fucked in my bed. Okay.” She remained cool headed, her eyes trailing through the various fabrics among her floor. “Thought I’d tell you to get ready, and to blend in, though you two have that part already figured out. There’s some clothes in the wadrobe, and from what I can tell, you’re going to need new underwear.”

She bothered no longer once she had informed you of what she had told the other men. Instead she simply left, only for you to brace your head back into the quality pillows, slumping, and dreading the journey ahead.

Though you seemed restless, Bucky still thought of you as a muse. His hands grasped your chin, leading your lips to his own, as he sucked on your bottom one, his right hand grasping one of your breasts, as he pulled you atop of him, your skin flushed as you steadied your weight over his tough thighs.

“Now this is a dangerous sight.” He clicked his teeth, trailing his large hand down from your jaw, surpassing the middle of your chest, to your hip, which he grasp, as he shuffled you up just a little, so that you were seated upon the base of his cock.

“I can show you dangerous Barnes.” You smirked, adjusting the both of you so you were ready to sink down on his length. Your hands softly stroked his erect shaft, as you tapped his tip upon your pussy, before pushing down, filling yourself up one more.

Madripoor was a bad place, but good things could come out of visiting the skull island. This was the job, though, breaks were prompted, and were you glad that Bucky had became your little bit of calm in the arising trouble in the world.

“Fuck.” He groaned beneath you, his balls clenching as he felt you writhe all the way down to his base, beginning to bounce upon him, the years of training that you had endorsed coming in handy as it had helped your stamina. He was a super soldier after all, you were surely going to need it.

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[rax-writes]

More 》 Part Two

Fandom:  MCU Pairing:  Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader Warnings:  Sexual intercourse, choking, hair pulling, oral sex (f!receiving) [reader is a female-identifying individual with a vagina] Notes:  Part two of More  》 I cannot thank you guys enough for how well More did, and I hope that you enjoy this addition to it!  》 I honestly didn’t edit this all that extensively, so if there are any errors, please let me know. ♥

At the break of dawn the next morning, you found yourself on a loading dock for shipment containers with Sharon, Bucky, Sam, and Zemo – pretending all the while that nothing had happened between you and the latter individual. You wore a sweater with a high neckline, per Zemo’s suggestion, and interacted with him exactly the same way that you had before. He did a good job at selling the lie as well, although he seemed incapable of keeping his eyes to himself, frequently staring at you for far longer than he should have, that dark, hungry look in his eyes returning if his gaze lingered for too long.

“All right, he’s in there,” Sharon announced, stopping in the middle of the massive metal boxes. “Container four-two-six-one. I’ll keep an eye out while you guys talk to Nagel, but hurry. We’re on borrowed time.”

You accepted one of the earpieces she offered, getting it into place as she walked off. When the four of you entered the container, you found that it was empty, and appeared to have been that way for quite some time.

“Hey, Sharon, you sure this is the right one?” Sam inquired incredulously. “It’s completely empty.”

“Positive. It has to be.”

You entered the container, the other three right behind you, and closed your eyes as they looked around.

“He’s here. I can hear his thoughts,” you announced, then began to pick the doctor’s brain further. “Push against the back wall. There’s a secret passageway.”

Zemo did as you bade him, and sure enough, the wall moved backwards a bit, to allow him to open the hidden door. He shot you a curt nod of approval, then stepped back to allow Sam to enter first, and the rest of you followed suit.

Music filled the air, a swanky song you didn’t recognize, as you stalked through the laboratory, your gun aimed dead ahead and eyes peeled.

“Follow me,” you whispered, taking the lead as you easily navigated to the physical source of Dr. Nagel’s thoughts. When you saw him, his back was to you, slouched over whatever he was working on as he hummed along to the tune. Sam silently walked over and removed the needle from the record that played the music, and Nagel turned around slowly, fear written all over his face.

“Dr. Nagel?”

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“We know you created the super soldier serum.”

“Get out of my lab,” Nagel commanded, as if he was in any position to give orders. He began to walk toward the exit, but you stepped in front of him and stopped him with a hand flat against his bony chest.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that. Not until you tell us what we need to know,” you informed him without speaking, your voice infiltrating his mind. Nagel let out a frightened gasp as he looked behind him, apparently thinking that may be the source of the voice, before his eyes landed on you.

“You,” he whispered, his voice a mix of confusion, fear, and awe as you met his gaze with harsh eyes. “You – you spoke to me, in my head. How did you do that?”

“She can read your mind, and she can also control it. So, I’d advise you to answer our questions, before she forces you to,” Sam threatened, then watched as Nagel took note of Bucky across the room. “And you know who he is, right?” He then grabbed Nagel by the arm and turned him to face Zemo. “This is Baron Zemo. I know you’ve heard of him, too, right?” He dragged Nagel to the nearest wall, shoving him against it as his back collided with the metal grate. “You seem like a pretty smart guy, so you better become conversational real quick.”

“How ‘bout a counter proposal? Make me a better offer, and I’ll talk,” Nagel proposed.

“Guys, we have company,” Sharon’s voice stated through the earpiece. “Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go!”

Bucky grabbed Nagel by his shirt and dragged him over to a chair, forcing him down roughly before pointing his gun at Nagel’s head, finger on the trigger. He still didn’t look terribly interested in talking, so you lowered your weapon and narrowed your eyes at him, and used your abilities to insight sheer, unadulterated fear in his mind. His eyes widened and he visibly paled as his mind wreaked havoc on itself, instilling a very pure, very powerful terror within him.

“Okay, okay! I’ll talk! Just stop it!”

You ended the onslaught of panic, and raised your gun once again, as your three companions eyed you with curiosity, unsure of what exactly you’d just done to him. But there would be time for an explanation later.

Nagel explained how he formulated the super soldier serum, and you all listened intently to his little tale. That was when you heard it. Like the crack of a twig in an otherwise silent forest, yet making no audible sound at all, you heard it.

“I must kill him.”

You looked over at Zemo as nonchalantly as possible, and his eyes widened slightly when he realized you’d picked up on his decision. The two of you shared tense eye contact for several beats, and you knew that you must make a choice. Allow Zemo to end this man’s life, and end the possibility of additional serums being created, or warn Sam and Bucky of his intentions?

“You know the damage unchecked Super Soldiers can cause. He is dangerous; he must be stopped.”

Zemo spoke directly to you in his mind, and you took the opportunity to dig deeper, searching for any sign that he was going to betray you, Sam, and Bucky. When you found none, you sighed quietly as you made your choice, and returned your attention to Nagel. Out of your peripheral, you saw Zemo begin perusing the room, feeling underneath tables in the lab in search of a secluded weapon.

“Is there any serum in this lab?” Bucky inquired, and when Nagel hesitated, he pressed the barrel of his gun against the man’s temple, prompting an answer of no. “Now what?”

Sharon ran into the room then, announcing, “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.”

Zemo took her distraction as an opportunity to draw his gun and shoot Nagel in the chest, straight through his heart. Sam tackled Zemo, and Sharon took the gun from his hand, whispering, “What did you do?”

The very next moment, the entire place exploded, erupting into flames as you, Bucky, Sam, and Sharon hit the deck, although Zemo was nowhere to be found when you groaned in pain and looked around the room from your position on the floor. Bucky pulled you to your feet, then Sharon, then Sam, as the four of you exited the container before it could explode from all the chemicals and fire in Nagel’s lab. You didn’t quite make it, as a gas-fueled explosion went off just as you exited the container, but you were far enough away from it that it merely blew your hair forward. Once outside, the adrenaline wore off just enough that you felt a blinding pain in your torso, and looked down to see blood quickly soaking through your sweater.

“Bucky,” you called out, and he turned quickly, a frown forming on his face when he saw your injury. You lifted your shirt to reveal a thin, jagged, three-inch long sliver of metal embedded in the center of your abdomen. Sam turned to bark orders at the two of you, but his face fell as he saw the blood.

Sharon made quick work of removing the metal, which was thankfully only about an inch or less in width, so it wasn’t at all deadly. Truthfully, it wasn't that bad of an injury, but god was it bleeding like hell. Bucky yanked off his jacket and handed it to you, instructing you to apply pressure to the wound and stick close to him. Your three companions shot at the bounty hunters that were approaching, and you did your best to fire a few shots yourself, your other hand pressing the jacket firmly against your injury. Sam shot you a disapproving look and told you to focus on yourself, but you ignored him.

While Sam and Bucky began bickering about who should have followed whose orders, there was yet another deafening explosion nearby. You looked in that direction to see Zemo with some sort of mask on, jumping down from atop some storage containers, before leaping over some metal piping and dodging past a man to evade his bullets, then grabbing him by the collar to use him as a human shield. He fired multiple rounds at the nearby bounty hunters, before releasing his grip on the first man and kicking him away, then shot him too. He looked at you through the flames, and you didn’t have to read his mind to know how exhilarated he felt, being truly back in action after spending years in a cell.

If asked, you’d chalk it up to the blood loss, but… goddamn, he looked hot kicking ass like that.

“Go,” Bucky ordered, helping you up and wrapping an arm around your waist to steady and guide you as the four of you made a break for it. Eventually, you reached an open storage container, and Sam helped you into it as Bucky fended off the last few bounty hunters.

When Bucky burst through the back of the container with his vibranium arm, you heard tires screech and an engine rev, before Zemo pulled up in a sports car.

“Supercharged,” he stated with the faintest smile. Christ, he was just a little bit of a goofball, wasn’t he?

“You’re going back to jail,” Sam said angrily, then turned to you. “And you were supposed to tell us if he was going to screw us over.”

“Nagel shouldn’t have been kept alive. I know you don’t like it, but it is the truth,” you reasoned.

“He didn’t have to die though, dammit! He could have just gone to jail, locked up for the rest of his life!”

“Oh, yes, just like Zemo? The man standing five feet from us, very much not in jail?” you countered, and he frowned, knowing you had a point. “Once word got out that Nagel knew how to recreate the serum, every power hungry individual and group in the world would be trying to find a way to either break him out or ask him about it. And I’m sure he would have told anyone for the right price. Even if the serum didn’t fall into the hands of the wrong people, even if a seemingly good-natured country like America were to get ahold of it, it could still be used for evil. They clearly don’t have the best moral compass, considering the asshole they gave Captain America’s shield to.”

“Alright, yeah, you’ve made your point,” Sam grumbled. “But I still think we should take Zemo back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” Zemo interjected.

“He’s right, we need him. And there’s three of us, and at least 20 of them. Come on,” Bucky said, pulling open the door of the car before turning around to help you into the vehicle. Only then did Zemo notice the blood on your hands and sweater, and Bucky’s blazer pressed against your torso.

“What happened to her?” Zemo inquired, sitting up to help you sit behind him, and frowning when you grimaced as you maneuvered into your seat, careful not to get any blood on the lovely cream interior. The car didn’t belong to any of you, but it was so beautiful that you hated to harm it.

“Stray shard of metal during the explosion in Nagel’s container,” you explained, grimacing a little as you leaned your head against the headrest behind you, eyes closed as you willed the pain to subside.

“Are you alright?”

“I will be. Probably just needs a few stitches, then I’ll be good as new,” you assured him, shooting him a tight-lipped smile, which he didn’t seem to buy before he removed his trenchcoat and laid it on top of you.

“You look cold,” he muttered, then turned back around in his seat to face the steering wheel.

“Fine, but if you try that shit again…” Sam told Zemo as he climbed into the car.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Zemo responded, and you didn’t have to check his thoughts to know that that was a complete lie.

Sharon bid you all goodbye, and Sam thanked her for her help before sliding down into his seat.

“You’re not gonna move your seat up, are you?” Sam asked Bucky.

“No,” he deadpanned, causing you to chuckle under your breath, which earned you a glare from Sam.

The drive back to the airport was mostly silent, which you were thankful for, as you didn’t really have the energy for talking. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but you’d still lost enough and exerted yourself enough that you were feeling fatigued. Zemo parked the car on the landing strip, a short distance from his jet, and was quick to exit the vehicle to help you out. You thought you were doing quite well, until you actually stood up outside the car, and the exhaustion combined with some wooziness from the blood loss made your knees buckle. You would have fallen if Zemo hadn’t lunged forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

“Let us get you aboard the plane, and I will dress your wound,” he said, then stooped to scoop you up into his arms bridal-style, and began carrying you toward the jet. Sam and Bucky eyed him curiously, but said nothing. Admittedly, you were too flustered by the close proximity and his gentleness toward you to say anything yourself. You looked over his shoulder, admiring his stolen vehicle one last time.

In Sokovian, you stated with a smile, “I’d like one of those by the way, the Pontiac.”

“Whatever your heart desires,” he responded calmly, matching your Sokovian. As he approached Oeznik, who stood beside the steps of the jet, he continued in that language as he instructed the butler, “Have that car, or one exactly like it, delivered to Berlin as soon as possible, please.”

“Of course, sir.”

Zemo laid you down gently on the couch inside the plane, Sam and Bucky following close behind. Once inside, Oeznik brought Zemo the first aid kit, a needle, and some stitching. Both of the other men offered to do it themselves, but Zemo insisted that he could do a better job than both of them combined. In a manner much unlike the night before, Zemo lifted your shirt to have access to the wound, and set to work. Bucky let you hold his hand as Zemo cleaned the area and did the stitches, while you forced yourself to breathe evenly and ignore the pain of the antiseptic and the needle. A mere fifteen minutes later, you were all patched up, and Zemo was helping you up and sending you to the washroom with a change of clothes.

“You’re gettin’ real sweet on her, Zemo,” you heard Sam note, his tone suspicious. “You better watch yourself, man. Step out of line with her and we won’t hesitate to end you.”

“Understood,” Zemo replied nonchalantly, then you could hear him open a book and take a sip of his champagne. For your own amusement, you took a peek into his mind, and found that he was thinking, “Too late.”

You smiled to yourself as you undressed, carefully removing the blood-soaked sweater and placing it in a trash bag. When you saw yourself in the mirror, you first noticed the hickeys from last night, then the miscellaneous cuts scattered across your skin from the various explosions, and the gauze taped over your wound. The hickeys caused your smile to widen further, and you donned the plain black t-shirt of Zemo’s and his loose gray sweatpants before rejoining them in the lounge. His eyes darkened in that way as his gaze raked up and down your body, clearly enjoying the sight of you in his clothing, but he quickly returned his attention to Sam.

“She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea.”

“I have a place we can go,” Zemo suggested, then leaned back in his seat. “I, for one, am looking forward to coming face-to-face with Karli. Oeznik, we’re changing the course.”

A few hours later, Bucky and Sam had fallen asleep after reclining their chairs and dimming the lights, as you laid on the couch, halfway asleep yourself despite the book in your hands. Once their near-identical snores had filled the cabin for several minutes, Zemo stood from his seat and came to crouch down beside your head. His expression was unreadable as he stared at you, before leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I must admit, I was very concerned when I saw all the blood on your shirt. I have only just found you, my Sokovian beauty. I would prefer to draw out having the privilege of being acquainted with you for as long as possible, but I cannot do that if you get killed.”

“I’ll do my best to avoid it,” you teased, and he smiled softly. “Thank you for taking such good care of my injury earlier.” He said nothing in response, simply smiled a bit wider and kissed you again, longer this time, but still far shorter and far less intimately than you’d have preferred. You both had to take the others into consideration, even despite their snores, because you were quite certain they’d put a bullet between Zemo’s eyes and send you home immediately if they learned just how “sweet on you” the man truly was. He stood and fetched a blanket from an overhead cabinet before laying it over you, then pressed his lips to your forehead, and returned to his seat.

“Goodnight, Liebling,” Zemo said softly, flicking off the last light in the cabin as he settled back into his seat.

“Goodnight, Baron.”

—————

Riga was somehow comparably chaotic to Madripoor, in terms of the events that transpired there.

Shortly after you arrived at Zemo’s estate, Bucky returned from his "walk" to declare that the Wakandans were there to take Zemo, although he bought some time. In all honesty, you were only half-ass listening to him, because Zemo had exited the bathroom with wet hair and a purple robe that revealed half his chest. He caught you staring and shot you a subtle wink while Sam and Bucky were talking, and you rolled your eyes in return.

Next stop was a refugee camp, where you, Bucky, and Sam searched in vain to get any information on Danya Madani. Zemo somehow managed to accomplish the task, albeit in the creepiest way possible, which you teased him relentlessly for on the walk back to his flat. When he revealed that the girl he'd spoken to told him the time and location of the funeral, but refused to tell any of you, Bucky was quick to anger, snatching the teacup from Zemo’s hand and throwing it against the wall. Sam talked him down before you grabbed Bucky’s arm, pulling him gently toward the door.

"Come on, let's take a walk. I saw a little farmer's market down the road; let's go have a snack and explore a little, yeah?" you asked, your tone calm and soothing to contrast the rage that swarmed in his mind, and Bucky nodded gravely to you as he let you lead him. When you glanced back into the flat as you closed the door behind you, you saw that Zemo was wearing a frown, and a quick peek at his thoughts informed you that he was pouting a bit, wishing you'd have just sent Bucky off and stayed with him. You rolled your eyes internally, then accompanied Bucky to the market, where the two of you ate some plums and took a little walk. When the two of you returned to the flat, Zemo announced that it was time to head to the funeral.

"Did you enjoy your little excursion with James?" Zemo inquired in Sokovian, a tinge of spite in his voice. "Did you relieve his tension?"

"It wouldn't be any of your business if I did," you shot back, also in Sokovian. The disdain on his face disappeared quickly, and you added, "But no, we just took a walk and had some food, as I said we would. Jealousy does not suit you, Baron."

Zemo's voice took on a gentler tone, the Sokovian dripping from his tongue like honey as he said, "My apologies, darling. You are just so magnificent that I want you all to myself; the thought of you with another man is enviable."

"Don’t apologize. Just end it."

He nodded, and before either of you could say anything else, that asshole John Walker showed up, along with his partner. They demanded that Sam and Bucky no longer keep them in the dark, but ultimately, Walker conceded to follow Zemo, and allow Sam the opportunity to talk to Karli alone. As Sam walked off, Walker grabbed Zemo forcefully and handcuffed him to some kind of metal contraption on the wall.

"Aggressive. But I get it," Zemo quipped. He turned to you, and in Sokovian, said, "Once I get out of these, perhaps we could use them to our advantage later this evening."

"Zip it, Zemo."

Unsurprisingly, Walker betrayed his agreement with Sam, barging in on the memorial before Sam's allotted time was up.

"Uh-uh. No, no, no, no. This is a bad idea."

"It hasn't been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight," Bucky responded calmly.

"Don’t do that. Don't patronize me."

"Then do not behave so childishly," you retorted, and Bucky elbowed you while Walker shot you an icy glare. He opened his mouth to say something, but Bucky cut him off, aiming to divert the subject before Walker pushed you any further.

"He knows what he's doing."

Walker was silent for a moment more, before he grabbed the shield – which shouldn't be in his possession in the first place – and marched toward the door. "I'm goin' in."

Bucky stopped him, but after Walker guilt-tripped him, Bucky stepped to the side to allow him to pass. You groaned in exasperation the second Walker walked off.

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"It was either that, or you and me fight Walker and Battlescar – or whatever his stupid code name is. I'm already on probation, and I helped the guy that split up the Avengers break out of prison. I really don't need ‘beat the shit out of the new Cap’ added to my list of wrongdoings," Bucky said, running a hand through his hair before clapping a hand on your shoulder. "Come on, let's go find Sam."

As Bucky jogged off in the direction Walker had gone, you followed while grumbling, "My preference would have been the latter, but no, why would anyone ask for my opinion? I'm just the pet mind reader."

When the two of you caught up to Walker and Hoskins, the former was thrown into a table by Karli, and she ran off. Bucky chased after her, and you took another route to try to intercept her, to no avail. You caught up with Sam and Bucky a few minutes later, out of breath as Sam commented that the building was like a maze, and you wholeheartedly agreed. By the time the three of you found the others, Karli was gone, Walker was just standing there, and Zemo was out cold on the floor.

Walker and Hoskins stated that they were going to search for Karli, and ran off. Bucky threw Zemo over his shoulder like a damn ragdoll, and the three of you trudged back to Zemo’s flat, a little worn out and a little defeated. Once there, Bucky threw him down on the couch, and Zemo bounced limply atop the cushions, still unconscious. Sam began working on his laptop, and Bucky went on yet another walk, while you searched for the first aid kit.

Zemo looked surprisingly peaceful and non-threatening as he laid there, appearing to be asleep. You kneeled beside his head and lightly applied some antiseptic on the cut left by Cap's shield, right at the top of his hairline, and you found yourself admiring him. He had soft features for a man so dark inside; soft chestnut brown hair, adorable nose, slight bit of stubble across his gentle jawline and neck. You began dabbing the antiseptic again, still lost in your own thoughts when he awoke very suddenly, grabbing your wrist in a fierce grip out of reflex. Zemo's eyes were wide when he first opened them, but upon seeing you, he visibly relaxed and released his grip on you.

"Apologies," he whispered, then groaned softly when he felt the pain in his head. You stood silently and retrieved a rag from the drawer beside the sink, wetting it with cold water, then filled a glass with some ice and brandy and returned, handing both items to Zemo. He thanked you very sincerely, then laid the rag over his forehead and eyes, and held the glass atop his chest.

You were grateful that Sam hadn't noticed you doting on him, too focused on his laptop, because he'd have definitely asked you about it, and you didn't even have an answer for yourself. It wasn't like there was any need or obligation for you to tend to him like that, and yet you did without even thinking. As you took a seat opposite Zemo on the couch, you told yourself that it was merely payback for how he assisted you with your own injury the day before, and left it at that.

It wasn't long before Walker and his partner showed up again, demanding to place Zemo under arrest. You, Sam, and Zemo all stood when he burst through the doors, all silently conglomerating to one side of the room. Walker had the gall to threaten Sam, and it had your fingers twitching on the gun in your thigh holster in rage. Before anything could come of that, the Wakandans Bucky had mentioned showed up, and when Walker tried talking down to them before placing a hand on one's shoulder, melee ensued.

You leaned on the bar with one arm, watching in amusement as Walker got his ass handed to him. Zemo seemed to be in the same boat, observing without expression as he passed you his drink, and you took a couple of sips before returning it.

"We should do something," Sam said to you and Bucky.

"Looking strong, John!"

"Yes, excellent form! Top notch," you added. "Really showing them the prowess of the new Captain America!"

"Bucky…" Sam chided, prompting Bucky to finally intervene. Sam looked to you, and you held your hands up in defense.

"I am not fighting the goddamn Dora Milaje. I don't feel like dying today – especially not for the sake of helping John Walker."

Sam sighed before joining the fight himself, and that was when Zemo’s hand enveloped yours, silently tugging you towards the bathroom. You opened your mouth to say "Is this really the time for a quickie?" but he held a finger to his lips, effectively silencing you. Once he had successfully guided you into the bathroom, he closed the door quietly behind him, and shoved the tub to the side, revealing a secret passageway.

"Come with me," Zemo said simply, and you scoffed.

"I'm not abandoning Sam and Bucky. My place is here."

"Actually, if I remember correctly, your assignment is to keep an eye on me. Although I'd rather not have to, I will overpower you if I must, because I will be leaving now. So, it is technically your job to follow me, and it would behoove you to simply follow your comrades’ orders without an unnecessary scuffle."

The man really didn't miss a beat, did he? Sam and Bucky had, in fact, assigned you to watch Zemo. Although it was implied that that was everyone's task, they had specifically delegated the role to you. So, it was a matter of whether or not you could take Zemo in a fight, and although you secretly hoped he'd go easy on you, you knew that his own self-preservation was his chief concern.

"Fine," you grumbled, not missing the smile on his face as you shoved past him and jumped down into the tunnel.

Your joints ached in protest of your actions, but you ignored it. He was right behind you, not even bothering to cover the passageway back up before taking off in one of the three directions that the tunnel led to. You were right behind him, and it wasn't long before the sounds of the scuffle faded away. Roughly five minutes later, you reached the end, and he pushed aside the manhole above you and climbed out. Zemo took your hands and helped you out as well, before replacing the manhole while you surveyed the area. It was a city street, but they all looked the same in Riga, so you had no idea where you were.

"Come on," Zemo said, lacing his fingers with yours as you ran down the street. He took a few turns and ended up in the town square, where he led you into a hotel. As you entered the lobby, he explained, "We'll stay here for a few hours, essentially hiding in plain sight, to allow the Dora Milaje and Walker time to leave and search for me elsewhere."

You nodded, and as you approached the front desk, Zemo wrapped his arm snugly around your waist, pulling you close to him.

"Do you have any availability for the night?" Zemo inquired, then smiled lovingly at you. "It is our wedding day, and my beautiful bride simply cannot wait until we reach our honeymoon destination to get her hands on me."

You sent Zemo a quick glare, but the man at the desk didn't notice. He chuckled and nodded, saying something about "What a happy couple" as he booked the room for you. Zemo ignored your pointed look and kissed your temple, thanking the man and paying for the room before leading you in the direction of the room. As soon as you were out of earshot of the desk clerk, you glowered at Zemo once again, although his arm remained around your waist until you reached the room. Not that you minded, really.

"'Beautiful bride'? 'Honeymoon'? Really?"

"Yes," Zemo replied calmly, unlocking the door and opening it for you. As you walked past him, he elaborated, "If Walker comes looking for me, he'll be asking for a former SHIELD agent and a criminal. If the gentleman at the desk is convinced we're a happy newlywed couple, he won't even think to mention us to Walker."

It didn't take more than half a second to find his genuine answer in his mind. "How smoothly and effortlessly you lie, Zemo. You simply wanted to touch me again, so you came up with a convenient excuse."

Zemo licked his lips subtly, before shrugging with a small smile, wordlessly saying 'you got me there.'

"We need to get back to Sam and Bucky once Walker and the Dora Milaje are gone, but there's no foolproof way to go about it," you began pacing the room, as Zemo remained fixed beside the wall. "If I text Sam or Bucky, Walker will know they got a message, and they're both the worst liars I've ever met. God knows we don't need the Dora having any idea about where you are, you wouldn't last a full minute before they drove a spear through your chest. We also can't wait around too long, because then Sam and Bucky might leave Riga, and —"

You were still pacing and mid-sentence when Zemo suddenly grabbed you by the back of your neck and pulled you into a searing kiss, effectively silencing you. His other hand rested on the curve of your waist, pulling you against his chest. The surprise of the act and subsequent warm feeling in your stomach absolutely obliterated all other thoughts from your mind, and all you could focus on was him.

At some point, you regained your senses, albeit still in a haze. You pressed your palms to his shoulders and shoved him a few inches back, and he stared down at you with half-lidded eyes and lust-blown pupils.

“We – we need to focus on Sam and Bucky,” you managed to stammer out, but Zemo simply cupped your cheek and stroked the side of your face with his thumb.

“Is that truly what you want to be focusing on, Schatz?” Zemo inquired, his voice low, taking on even more of a gravely tone than usual. It flooded your veins with heat and desire, and you found your eyes fluttering closed as he bent down to pepper your neck with kisses. “Or would you rather simply wait out Walker and the Dora Milaje here, with me? Allowing me to touch you, taste you, in all the ways I know you crave?”

The final shred of your sanity left the building when he gently bit down on your neck, at the point where it met your shoulder, and you found yourself releasing a breathy moan and melting into his touch. Zemo wasted no time in kissing you once again, lips fast and insistent on yours, one hand on the small of your back, pressing you against him, and the other on the nape of your neck once again. His body leaned into yours as he kissed you with fervor, and your hands longingly grasped the front of his sweater. Eventually, Zemo abruptly spun you around to press your back against the wall that had previously been behind him, and he hiked one of your legs up onto his hip, gripping it under your thigh. His other hand slowly moved from the back of your neck to the front, fingers curling deliciously around your throat as he applied a little pressure, earning another airy moan from you.

As if on reflex, his hips bucked up into you, and the friction left you mewling. Just like last time, it seemed to be your noises that set Zemo off, as he released a low growl from the back of his throat and dropped your leg to tear your shirt off while you took the hint and kicked off your shoes. He undid the fasten on your jeans with lightning speed, and yanked them – along with your panties – down past your hips so you could kick them both off. Next went your bra, which was flung god knows where in the room, and Zemo took a small step back to admire you.

It only lasted for a split second, because you then grabbed the straps he wore around his shoulders and used them to pull him in and kiss him again. Zemo’s hands glided slowly, sensually down your shoulders, your back, then came to rest upon your ass, grabbing it fiercely with both hands. His hands trailed further down, to the undersides of your thighs, before he lifted you with surprising ease and carried you over to the bed at the center of the room. Zemo threw you down onto the mattress unceremoniously, gaze locked on your chest as he watched your breasts bounce from the force, but you were quick to sit upright and pull him back in by the shoulder straps. You removed them then, as well as his turtleneck and belt buckle, and he was cooperative in removing his own boots and slacks, leaving him in his black briefs, his cock tenting the fabric there.

When you reached out to remove his briefs, Zemo pushed you to lay down by your shoulder, and knelt down at the edge of the bed, opening your legs at the knee with a harsh grip. You didn’t even have time to blink before he dove in, licking a long stripe up your slit before moving to your clit as your head fell back onto the mattress and your eyes fluttered closed. He focused primarily on your clit, occasionally lapping at your folds, but always returning his attention to that bundle of nerves. Gasps and moans were already falling for your lips, but when his middle finger and ring finger entered the fray, you found yourself crying out his name and tangling your fingers in his hair.

That delectable little growl of his escaped him once more, and you felt the vibrations of it against you, which warranted another moan, and Zemo’s fingers began delving in and out of your core at a steadfast pace. When he began curling them upwards, rubbing them against that sweet spot deep inside you, you were a goner. He wanted more of your beautiful sounds of pleasure, wanted to see you become more and more undone for him. You only lasted a couple minutes longer, growing progressively louder and more unhinged with each passing second. You were then launched over the edge, one hand tugging on his chestnut tresses and the other gripping the comforter of the bed, crying out his name amongst various explicatives.

When your eyes opened again, Zemo was standing, kicking off his boxers as he made eye contact with you while he sucked his fingers clean of you. He had set his wallet on the bedside table in the midst of your pacing, so he retrieved it and pulled a condom from one of the compartments. You sat up and snatched it from him, quickly tearing it open and rolling it down over his length. The sensation caused a sigh to leave his lips, before murmuring, "Eager, are we, Kätzchen?"

Electing to ignore him, you grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the bed with you, wordlessly instructing him to lay down by pressing your hands on his chest. Zemo got the message with ease, happily complying as you straddled him. The sight of you sinking down on his clock, your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself, caused him to groan in pleasure. Far too eager to spend an abundant amount of time adjusting to him, you began moving, rocking your hips back and forth at a resolute pace, savoring the feeling of him sliding in and out of you. Zemo's hands rested on your waist, fingertips digging into your skin as he helped you keep your rhythm, while he gazed up at you as if you were a goddess in the flesh, his jaw hanging open slightly and hair disheveled.

By the time you were approaching your second orgasm, Zemo could tell, from the faltering of your hips as they strove to increase their speed, and from the way your nails raked down his chest each time you used his length inside you to hit that special spot there. He began thrusting up into you, eager to feel you come on his cock. You unintentionally caught a passing glance at his thoughts, and learned that it seemed that he always wanted more of you, needed more of you, to the point that he questioned if you had toyed with his mind somehow. You were about to inform him that no, you had not done anything to his mind, when he trusted particularly hard and deep up into you and his fingertips dug deliciously hard into your hips at the same time, and all sensual thoughts left your mind as you met your release a second time.

Still shaking slightly and moaning breathlessly, Zemo flipped you over onto your back, lifted your calf up onto his hip and held it there, and began pistoning in and out of you at a desperate, unforgiving pace. When your eyes fluttered open, you found that he was practically snarling above you, teeth bared in concentration and an intense fire in his eyes. It reminded you that his softness toward you did not change the fact that he was a criminal mastermind and former kill squad leader, who had done a great many terrible things. Yet the thought only made you want him even more, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him into a heated, haphazard kiss.

Zemo thrust in and out of you like a man on a mission, the sound of his pelvis colliding with yours filling the room, before he pulled out of you long enough to flip you onto your chest, face in the pillows and ass in the air, then resumed his pace. The new angle felt incredible, and it didn't take long before you were moaning into the pillows, fists clenched around the duvet. In the blink of an eye, Zemo grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you upright, your back flush against his chest.

"Do not hide your beautiful noises from me, Liebling. I want to hear you," Zemo commanded, and you moaned in response, both as a confirmation of his words and as a natural reaction to the low, gravely tone his voice took on. His hand moved to encase your neck, tilting your head back even further so he could trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck, before biting down on your shoulder, earning a shuddering gasp from you. "Now tell me, Kätzchen: who makes you feel this good?"

"You," you choked out, groaning in pleasure when his fingers tightened their grip on your throat.

"Me, what?"

"You, Baron," you corrected, and Zemo hummed in approval, kissing you quickly in praise. He gave your neck another squeeze before throwing you back down onto the mattress, his hands on your hips as he returned his focus to fucking the very soul out of you.

As his hips began to stutter into yours and soft moans began falling from his lips, signaling he was approaching his end, Zemo reached around your body to begin expertly rubbing your clit, desperate for you to finish in unison. The way your walls fluttered around him let him know that he was on the right track, so he quickened the pace of his fingers on your clit, careful to maintain the angle he was thrusting at. As you fell apart beneath him a third and final time, your scream of "Baron!" and your core clenching around him like the most luxurious vice, Zemo found himself crying out your name in accompaniment with a low, guttural moan, spilling himself into the condom.

Zemo didn't move for a moment, hands still clutching your hips, albeit with a looser grip now, as he fought to catch his breath. Still panting, he slowly removed himself from you, falling into a sweaty heap beside you. Breathing heavily yourself, you leaned over to kiss him – far slower this time, both of you reveling in post-coitus bliss. He affectionately brushed your hair away from your face, as it had been stuck to your forehead from perspiration, before stroking your cheek with his thumb.

A brief eternity later, Zemo stood and headed to the restroom, no doubt disposing of the condom, before returning in one of the hotel’s white bathrobes and holding a cold rag. He flopped down onto the mattress, placing the towel over his forehead and eyes as he had earlier in his flat.

“Apologies, Schatz. As enjoyable as that was, it certainly did not help my migraine,” Zemo explained, blindly reaching out to grab your hand and bring it to his lips, placing a kiss on your knuckles.

You murmured a dismissive ‘you’re fine’ before heading to the washroom yourself, hopping into the shower and allowing the burning temperature of the water to ease the ache in practically all your muscles – some of it from fighting, some of it from fucking – although you suspected that the ache in your thighs, from being so tense throughout the multiple orgasms, wasn’t going away anytime soon. Thankfully, Zemo truly had done a marvelous job on your stitches, and the wound was already healing up nicely. By the time you finished your shower, the steam had clouded the room and coated the mirrors with condensation, but you felt more relaxed than you had in days. Donning a bathrobe yourself, you exited the bathroom, and situated yourself in the chair beside the floor-to-ceiling window on the wall of the room. Zemo was snoring softly, and the quiet tranquility of the room and the comfort of your seat sent you into a cat nap of your own, your head falling back against the chair as you slipped into unconsciousness.

You were entirely unsure how long you had slept, but when you awoke, Zemo was sitting with his back resting against the headboard, reading a random book he’d found in the room’s nightstand. He looked up at you long enough to flash you a small smile, before returning to the book. You yawned and rubbed your eyes, then sat up straighter in the chair and gazed out the window beside you. You hadn’t noticed, but the room had a lovely view of the town square.

A few minutes after you began observing the city below, your eyebrows practically shot up into your hairline as you saw none other than the bastard himself, John Walker, chasing one of the Flag Smashers before hitting him with the shield, sending the man flying into the statue at the center of the square. Each member of the bustling crowd stopped dead in their tracks, watching the scene unfold before them, as this new Captain America placed his foot on the man’s chest, pinning him against the stairs of the statue, as the man screamed, “It wasn’t me!”

The chair you were sitting in clattered to the floor as you stood bolt upright, a shuddering gasp escaping you and your hand flying to your mouth as you watched Walker raise the shield high above his head, a completely unhinged look upon his face. Zemo was at your side in an instant, his hands on your upper arms as he stood behind you, a worried expression on his face, wondering what could have caused you such distress. Before he had the chance to ask, Zemo’s eye caught the scene below, and you both watched in shock and horror as John Walker drove the shield into the Flag Smasher’s chest, again and again and again, until the man just laid there – bloodied, bludgeoned, and unmoving. Dead, at the hands of the new Captain America.

—————

@henrysmorgan​ @clints-lucky-arrow​ @therenlover

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #my writing #more #mcu #zemo x reader #zemo fanfiction #zemo fan fiction #zemo fic #zemo fanfic #zemo fan fic #baron helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #baron zemo fan fiction #baron zemo fanfiction #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo fan fic #baron helmut zemo fanfiction #baron helmut zemo fan fiction #baron helmut zemo fic #helmut zemo fanfiction #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo fan fiction #helmut zemo fan fic #helmut zemo fanfic #helmut zemo fic

[deceitfuldevil]

Savior

Baron Helmut Zemo X Reader

Summary: You were only on this mission because you owed a debt to an old friend because of your past. But what if you miss your past? No matter how hard you tried this criminal kept saving you, swooning over you. You wanted to disregard him at first, keep your disate for Zemo. But when he showed you his kindness and saved your life on more than one occasion, maybe this hero-life wasn’t worth following. When he held out his hand. . . was it worth taking?

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drugging, fighting, falling for a criminal <3

Word Count: 1.8K

Why you agreed to help Sam with this little mission he had going on was beyond you, but he knew your past and you owed him a debt. Working with Bucky helped you believe this mission was respectable since he’d been pardoned, but when you were listening to him explain a ‘hypothetical’ in an unknown auto repair garage. . . things got leery.

You just about blew your top at Sam when you saw world-class criminal mastermind Helmut Zemo walk in.

“What the fuck is this Sam? You said this was a good mission, not breaking any bylaws!” you exclaimed, going for the dagger strapped to your thigh.

“Hey hey hey! You think I would’ve brought you along if I had any idea this was going to happen?” Sam started “and you, you're going back to prison!” he shouted at Zemo and started to walk towards him, but Bucky held out his arm and halted him.

“He can help us.” Bucky said simply, like it was supposed to make the escaped convict in front of you any less of a threat. Given your history with Sam and the avengers you had a premeditated distaste for Zemo, one he would try to disband.

The whole plane ride you could feel Zemo’s lingering eyes on you, but every time you would shift uncomfortably in your seat he'd break his gaze. Like he was trying to respect you. But suspicions that he had good intentions for you went out the door when you were about to land in Madripoor and he revealed what everyone’s secret cover would have to be. Sam thought he got the short end of the stick when Zemo informed him of his ‘Smiling Tiger’ cover, that was until Zemo pulled out a skimpy little purple dress and handed it to you.

“And what the hell am I supposed to do with this?” you asked expectantly.

“Put it on, your beauty does not hold the likeliness of any well-known felons. So you will have to play the part of a high class call girl, think pretty woman.” Zemo explained, tossing a trashy pair of heels your way.

“Oh there is no way in hell that-” you started, but Zemo cut you off stepping forward giving you merely a few inches of personal space. “Or you can stay back, if you’d prefer.” he said simply, making you curse as you turned around and made your way to the bathroom on board to change.

The business Zemo had gone over, moderately well. The bright side was you weren’t dead and you found an ally, Sharon. The downside was that Zemo’s hands were all over you when Zemo posed his false offer to Shelby.

“In exchange I’ll give you him, along with the code words to control him of course. He’ll do any and everything you ask of him.” Zemo said, sitting back down on the couch next to you.

“And what about this little gem you’ve got here? If I double whatever you paid for her can we roll her into the deal?” Selby asked with a cynical grin.

“I’m afraid she’s not for sale.” Zemo said, placing his hand on your thigh giving it a gentle but noticeable squeeze. You wanted to swat his hand away and scold him for handling you so boldly, but you knew given the situation you were in that you couldn’t do that. Well, that and the fact that his strong hand on your thigh sent an all too familiar buzz to your core. But you wouldn’t admit that to yourself quite yet.

Later on at Sharon’s party Zemo was out on the dance floor enjoying his freedom as much as possible before he inevitably was locked back up, still keeping a watchful gaze on you. You had changed for the party, something less flashy from Sharon’s closet that didn’t make you look like a hooker. It fit your personality better and only made you more irresistible in his eyes, hence his watchful gaze. With his keen eyes Zemo noticed a man stalking you, when he tried to get a closer look he saw the man roofie your drink and walk away. Zemo overstepped your boundaries and immediately took your drink away, tossing it over his shoulder.

You scolded Zemo and asked what the hell was his problem, he tried to tell you what he saw but you didn’t believe him. You just rolled your eyes and left the party. But you started to wonder if he was really lying when on your way back to Sharon’s place, a man who you’d seen around the club pushed you up against a wall and started to feel you up.

Of course you fought back and the perpetrator was shocked and angry, asking why you weren’t passed out by now, but before you could get another punch in he was shot. You looked to your left and saw Zemo, smoking gun in hand.

“Now do you believe me?” He asked.

“Still doesn’t mean I trust you.” You said bitterly, continuing your way back to Sharon’s apartment.

You were on and off sleeping throughout the night, thoughts of why Zemo saved you and if he was to be trusted ran rampant in your mind. Even worse, your own hand traced over where his was earlier on your thigh, almost missing the feeling.

You got enough rest to suffice to for the day, you rolled out of bed and made your way to the kitchen; dying for a cup of cof-

“Good morning dragosté, I made some coffee since Sharon had quite the collection. Would you like some?” Zemo offered kindly, nearly showing a softer side to him now that Sam and Bucky weren’t around.

You were too tired to address his borderline flirtatious comment and agreed to a cup of coffee, turns out you would be needing it for the events of later that day. Sam planned to find and speak with Dr. Negal, which unsurprisingly turned into a shitshow. You and Sharon stayed on the outside fighting off bounty hunters while Sam, Bucky, and Zemo confronted Dr. Negal inside his lab. You quite weren’t sure exactly what happened in there, but you saw Sharon run inside and heard lots of shouting. Right as you were about to walk in as well an explosion went off and sent you flying backwards into an adjacent shipping container, knocking you out completely.

The next thing you knew you were being carried to god knows where, at first you assumed some bounty hunter picked you up when you opened your eyes and saw a face covered by a purple mask. But when you were laid gently in the back of some fancy car, you opened your eyes again and saw your savior. Pulling off his mask was none other than Zemo, who brought his hand up to your face gently caressing it. “You’ll be alright, dragosté.” he said sweetly before you faded out of consciousness again.

This time when you awoke you were on Zemo’s private plane again, this time en route to an old property of his in Riga. You pushed yourself out of the bed in the back of the plane despite your pounding headache, walking out into the main floor of the plane to find Zemo, Sam, and Bucky all in conversation.

“Y/n,” Sam said, standing up “You’re alright.” he said gratefully.

“Yeah I am uh. . .” you trailed off, meeting Zemo’s gaze. “Thank you” you said quietly, nodding your head at Zemo before heading to bed to lay back down. You arrived in Riga a few hours later, and with your head and body still scrambled from the explosion you stayed back from any intel operations the rest of the boys went on. But Zemo made you a more than comfortable recuperating area in his bedroom, where you rested for what felt like days.

You came out of the little setup Zrmo had made for you when you heard he’d been hurt. But there he was, just laying on the couch with a hot towel over his eyes nursing a cup of jasmine tea. He was hit in the head with a vibranium shield and was treating it like a bad cold. He sat up upon noticing your presence in the room.

“How are you feeling dragosté?” he asked, setting his compress aside.

“I think I should be asking you the same thing.” you joked back, earning a look from Sam. But he didn’t have time to address it before John Walker barged in. “Alright, you had your chance. Now I’m ordering you to hand him over to us.” he demanded. Zemo stood up and made his way to his kitchen counter, now pouring himself a drink for the situation at hand.

You intently followed John’s antics as you made your way over to where Zemo was, only stepping closer to him when the Dora Maljie arrived. When Zemo made his way to the bathroom, he pulled you alongside him. You heard the muffled sounds of fighting beyond the bathroom doors and looked back to Zemo who was holding out his hand as he stood above a now uncovered sewer grate.  You knew what would be the right choice, but then again maybe you were sick of batting for the good guys. You decided to go with Zemo, crawling down that tunnel and running with him despite any lack of a plan or structure. You’d never felt more free in your life, and once you were out of the sewers and in a secure location Zemo smiled at you, he was about to thank you.

However you wanted to thank him first in a different way, you grabbed the fur of his coat and pulled him down to meet your lips. You kissed him sweetly, feeling all the emotions you’d been pushing away flood to the surface as joy erupted from the deepest parts of you. Zemo kissed you back tenderly. When you pulled away your eyes stayed shut for a few more seconds, savoring the moment.

“I expected you to come with me, yes. But I must admit I didn’t expect that.” He said with a cheeky smile.

“Well there’s more where that came from, if you’ll take me with you wherever you go.” You said with a smile, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear.

“I promise, my dear little dragosté.” Zemo said, pulling you in for another kiss.

“You have got to tell me what that means.”

-

Dragosté - lover, darling, sweetheart.

A/N

Holy shit has it been a minute since I wrote for Zemo, I had a pretty intense obsession for him and his actor back in spring of 2021 so I’m surprised I only ever wrote the one fic. But that fic didn’t do too well so i can’t imagine this one will either with absolutely no Zemo content releasing from marvel as of lately. This fic really is mostly for my personal enjoyment seeing as I got the inspiration to write this when doing my yearly MCU rewatch, thanks to the falcon and the winter soldier that is. Anyways for those who did read this, thank you.

Much Love,

—Skyler

#marvel #au #cute #fan fic #fan fiction #fluff #love #mcu #reader insert #zemo x you #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #baron helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #Barron Helmut Zemo x reader #helmut x reader #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x you #captain american civil war #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #sugar daddy zemo #zemo imagine #<3

[loveofafangirl]

I posted 4,254 times in 2021

99 posts created (2%)

4155 posts reblogged (98%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 42.0 posts.

I added 2,390 tags in 2021

#comment reblog - 559 posts

#tfatws - 324 posts

#zemo - 275 posts

#daniel brühl - 230 posts

#daniel bruhl - 190 posts

#fan art - 185 posts

#bucky barnes - 182 posts

#fashion - 169 posts

#baron zemo - 152 posts

#loki - 124 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#i know i haven't published anything new in months. life has been hectic. i keep hoping it calms down so i can get back to my zemo wips

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

See the full post

332 notes • Posted 2021-05-06 03:56:17 GMT

#4

Remembering

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader/You  (no gender, race or body type described)

Synopsis: You awake to the sounds of Zemo suffering a nightmare. *Hurt/Comfort*

Word Count: < 900

TW: mentions of previous character death/death of a child

A/N: This was supposed to be a fluffy short drabble, but it ended up being angstier than I intended. Sorry! Zemo needs all the comfort/care!

See the full post

338 notes • Posted 2021-04-29 01:50:23 GMT

#3

Three Words

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader/You (gender, race, and body type not specified) 

Synopsis: Zemo may come across as overly confident and sure of himself, but you see a different side of him as he struggles to find the words to express how he feels. *Fluff*

Word Count: ~600

A/N: Not beta’d. No permission given to reuse or repost any part of this. Likes, comments, and reblogs greatly appreciated. Thank you for your support ❤️

See the full post

341 notes • Posted 2021-04-22 01:32:28 GMT

#2

Lazy Afternoon

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader/You (gender, race, and body type not specified) 

Synopsis: Kisses are a must on a lazy afternoon with Zemo. *Fluff*

Word Count: ~400

A/N: this is a mostly pointless drabble, but isn’t kissing and being kissed by Zemo the dream? Or is that just mine? This man 😍🙈

See the full post

358 notes • Posted 2021-04-25 04:06:10 GMT

#1

I’ve Got You

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader/You  (no gender, race, body type given)

Headcanon/Synopsis: Zemo won’t fall asleep at night until he knows you’re already safely asleep. *Fluff*

Word Count: ~1,100

A/N: Was just going to post the headcanon (above) but it turned into this instead.

See the full post

408 notes • Posted 2021-04-20 02:33:02 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#baron zemo #zemo #helmut zemo #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #zemo x you #marvel #zemo fan fiction #marvel fan fiction #mcu #daniel brühl #thank you for the support #these fics saved my life #i will always be grateful for your support #and showing me I can write something new

[bottoms-movie]

SAMBUCKY FIC RECS

so a lot of people seemed interested this so here it is! if ya’ll like this, i can make more parts! this is split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. all fics are on ao3. all of the fics are complete. some fics do include smut, but i included the ratings, so make sure to check for that based on preferences!

also, feel free to send me asks on your thoughts on any fics or if you’re interested in another sambucky fic rec post!

BASED ON TFATWS

Fill the Hole in my Heart | Not Rated | 4,848 words

Bucky dives into the world of online dating. The girls are nice, but there seems to be something missing. When he goes to Louisiana to meet Sam and his family, he realizes what that something was.

Skip, Reverse | Explicit | 7,945 words

Sam stood in the middle of their local Target with a throw pillow in each hand. The one in his left hand was butter-soft and matched the drapes in the living room, but Bucky had walked by five seconds ago and declared the one on the right “absolutely fucking hideous,” and so now Sam kind of wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

Sometimes romance is just bickering with your superhero partner/roommate at several different Target locations.

just won’t do right | General | 7,524 words

Sam's eyebrows go up, impressed, and he reaches over to squeeze Torres' shoulder, "This is amazing, kid. Thanks, really."

Bucky sits and watches in utter horror as the pink darkens on Torres' cheeks.

Oh, he realizes. Oh. Fuck.

body language will do the trick | Explicit | 12,598 words

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

checklist | General | 4,716 words

Bucky Barnes keeps a mental checklist of things he knows to be true at any given moment. Sometimes the checklist changes, because he's learned something else about himself. It changes, for example, when he starts realizing that maybe he would like to kiss Sam Wilson. Maybe.

best laid plans | 3 parts | 26,808 words

part 1: baby you’re the wave and I’m ready for the crash | Explicit | 6,616 words

Nah, my plan’s better,” Sam declares, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what plan? Was that a plan? It didn’t sound like a plan to me, it sounded like a vague intention,” says Bucky, still scowling, and Sam grins.

“We’re winging it, the plan is a work in progress! Now c’mon, we gotta make some wardrobe adjustments if we’re gonna get into that club.”

Sam and Bucky have some unorthodox methods of going undercover in a club.

He Doesn’t Deserve You! | Teen | 5,154 words

Sam and Bucky have an argument that results in Bucky being left at the bar. A group of drunk strangers assumes Bucky just got dumped and quickly adopt him for the night to make him feel better.

Reconstitution | Not Rated | 10,228 words

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

Or: a breaking down, remaking, and coming back stronger than ever before

Stuck On You (You Suez, You Luez) | Explicit | 10,136 words

Sam and Bucky’s mission was simple: stowaway on a ship suspected of weapons-smuggling in the Suez, gather enough intel to report back, and hop off again in Port Said. Something gets in the way, and a day-long recon session turns into a week of chess, bickering, semi-successful movie references, and trying not to go slowly insane.

His Touch | Mature | 1,006 words

When Baron Zemo touched Bucky’s face, Sam Wilson saw red.

Bucky just wants Sam to comfort him.

rusted | Teen | 2,358 words

Bucky doesn’t grace him with a sound of acknowledgement. He’s been quiet, ever since that night with Zemo. Well. Quieter. It’s almost like. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s half-expecting the Winter Soldier to come out.

He hasn’t, yet. Won’t, ever again. Not unbidden. Sam’s sure of that. Bucky, not so much.

‘You busy?’

‘’m scouring the—’

‘Good,’ Sam cuts the idiot off, ‘I need you to help me shave.’

advanced therapy methods for large adult men | 2 parts | 11,717 words

part 1: The Gottman Method for Dealing with Conflict | Mature | 4,187 words

Bucky and Dr. Raynor have a follow-up session and two entirely different conversations about his relationship status.

Or: Let's do more couples therapy, James.

it’s always Bucky’s Fault | 3 parts | 20,089 words

part 1: Did you see it? | Explicit | 3,905 words

In which there's supposedly a viral video of the Winter Soldier on his knees sucking off Captain America.

Everything is, like always, completely Bucky's fault.

CANON DIVERGENCE

Even in the Present (I Am Living in the Past) | Teen | 16,977 words

Sometimes Sam still questions everything about his ability to shoulder the 80-year legacy he now bears. His history, and the history of his loss, sticks with him and even in healing he doubts whether or not he is able to fulfil his purpose, and whether he may find lasting peace and happiness.

Told in fluid-fragments, the story moves between his therapy sessions after his return from active duty and the post-Endgame present.

You never forget your first | Teen | 3,650 words

The story of Bucky and Sam getting together in a series of firsts.

leftovers | Mature | 19,249 words

With the New Avengers up and running, Sam finally has time to start dating again. Unfortunately, it's not going as well as he'd hoped.

Partners | Explicit | 7,235 words

Sam's not sure if he can be Captain America. He's not a supersoldier. He can't throw the shield. He's just a dude.

And Bucky Barnes is just a nuisance, albeit a pretty good-looking one.

I’ll explain everything to the geese | Explicit | 50,949 words

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Night Swimming | Teen | 2,056 words

“Come on. The princess has a new arm for you and I gotta see if there’s a barber around here willing to tackle your…” Sam waved a hand at Bucky’s face.

“I don’t want a new arm,” Bucky immediately bit out.

And then -

“I can cut my own damn hair.”

Sam just raised both eyebrows. Crossed his arms over his chest again.

Dared Bucky to prove him wrong.

AU

Cpvert Coffee & Flirtation Specialist | General | 5,542 words

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield?? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

Stolen Moments | Teen | 98,767 words

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

Such a Whirlwind Since I Saw You | Teen | 10,871 words

The Men of Letters turned Bucky Barnes into a weapon. Hunters Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov are determined to save him, but they're going to need Sam Wilson's help.

“So you want me to ditch work, drive across America with you until you find your friend, who you thought was dead - all while avoiding some high-tech hunters who are out for blood?” Sam is asking.

Steve shrugs a shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Natasha almost laughs at the dry tone of Sam’s voice, but he's not wrong.

You Got What I Need? | Explicit | 37,588 words

Sam and Bucky are both in a bind, professionally. Nat points out a solution that neither men like. To save their careers they play along or rather, stop playing all together.

#marvel #sam wilson #bucky barnes #tfatws #sambucky #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky fic recs #fic recs #usermarcy #usersof #tusernini #tusersammy #usersmile #usersamanne #usercross #sambucky fanfic #my fic recs

[valwentinefics]

Helmut Zemo NSFW headcannons

A/n: It’s ya girl Aur back on her h word bullshit. My dating headcannons were very well received (that post is more popular than my actual writing) so here's the fun headcannons, enjoy!

Warnings: Nsfw, bdsm stuff, written with a girl afab reader in mind,

Soft dom soft dom soft dom, did i mention, soft dom?

He’s very heavy with the praise and dirty talk

He’ll probably call you his little hase, his little bunny

He likes to be called baron or daddy, whichever you're more comfortable with

The man is TOTALLY a giver in bed, he takes pride in making you cum over and over again, and man is he good at it

He's down to try out any kink you want, just wanting to make you satisfied and he enjoys most things as long as it's with you

Look i also just gotta say it, he has a breeding kink

He loves to watch his cum trickle out of you once he's finished fucking your brains out

His favourite position has your legs over his shoulders allowing him to go deep inside you

Honestly I picture him with an average dick, but very well groomed

One of his favourite things to do is have you read him something as he eats you out, hearing you whimper between each word, desperate for release that he'll only give you after you get far enough for his liking (my future fic writing senses are tingling 😉)

Zemo isn't jealous... At least thats what he says. he's totally a jealous guy

But the jealousy sex is amazing, both of you sweaty and gripping onto eachother as he pounds into you, mumbling in your ear about how you belong to him.

He talks a lot during sex, calling you pet names, talking about how much he wanted this, and what he's going to do to you as he fucks you

Usually you're too fucked out to reply, making him smile as you try to reply to him through your moans

I feel like he'd be a big fan of bondage, liking the control it gives him over you. He likes having control in the bedroom, and he's good at it

Wanna know what else he's good at? Aftercare

He'll hold you gently in his arms, kissing your face gently all over as he tells you how good of a job he did and how he loves you oh so much.

He'll bring you tea after and massage your sore body, making sure to worship it like it deserves

After that he'll read you a book, petting your hair as you lay your head in his lap, completely content with just being around you.

#baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo #zemo x reader #baron zemo #zemo #zemo smut

[gyllenhaalstories]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS — SUGAR DADDY!ZEMO

summary: a series of unfortunate (or fortunate, depending whose side you’re on) events brought you to mandripoor seven years ago. it was fun, dangerous and exciting for the most part. a lot has changed, but you are back in high town in the hope of purchasing a rare monet painting, and reuniting with an old flame.

warnings: tfatws spoilers, alcohol, established sugar daddy x sugar baby relationship, smut (daddy kink, dom/sub/switch dynamics, choking, hair pulling, blowjob, fingering, both degradation and praise kinks, spit kink, cum play, marking, unprotected sex). 18+ MINORS DON’T INTERACT.

word count: 2685

gif credit: pedropcl

notes: this (very long) fic is brought to you by zemo’s #1 hoe. for the sake of the fic, zemo’s daughter and wife have never existed. i get it zemo is the bad guy daniel is not your typical hottie but let me live my fantasy and reclaim my crown as the original zemo fan. listen to off to the races by lana del rey and let no man steal your thyme by the pentangle if you want to fibe with me! i hope you guys will enjoy it!!! <3

“If you keep staring at me like this, I’ll mistake you for the Mona Lisa.” You took the last sip from your glass, which was immediately filled by the man standing behind you. You had felt his familiar presence a long time ago, but you were too mesmerized by the rare painting trapped in a cage of glass to bother notifying him. “Your glance has followed me around the room. In other circumstances, I’d find it creepy. Now, it’s just very flattering.”

You heard him laugh through his nose. You saw his reflecting in the glass, lit up by flashing blue and pink lights and vibrating ever so slightly to the sound of the loud music.

“You’re like a Monet painting. From afar, you are clear as cristal and easy to read like an open book. From up close...” You marked a pause and stoodby straight. Your eyes never leaving the work of art you had been scrutinizing for the past hour. Water Lilies in Bloom, it was called, an incorrect translation that always brought a grin to your lips. “You are a mystery.” You swallowed thickly the bubbly liquid, recognizing the peculiar taste of champagne.

“It is arrogant but right to think of myself as the pure definition of mysterious.”

You chuckled, throwing your head back in disbelief. Some things never changed.

“After all these years... I managed to find my way back to you. Now that’s a mystery.”

You turned on your heels as you spoke. “Is it, though? Tell me, Daddy. Is it really that hard to believe you’d recognize your property even after all these years. I heard they put you in a pretty little cage. Didn’t have much else to think about than what you missed most?”

He took you in, just how ethereal you looked under the colourful neon lights. You had your arms pressed against your chest, the shiny material of your matching bracelet and necklace twinkled. He squinted slightly, his lips curled into a smirk while he looked down your body, the one thing that kept him sane after all these years in jail (that and the thought of destroying symbols like super soldiers and make the world a better place once and for all). “Nice dress.”

“My Sugar Daddy got it for me.” You did a twirl, showing off your outfit innocently. “You like it?”

He reached up to his neck and pulled on the collar of his purple sweater, like it was a tie he could loosen up. “So you received everything I sent you.”

You clicked your tongue. “Not everything...” Your head turned to look behind you, where your most priced possession was glowing in its full glory — soon to-be yours, you should say.

“Use your words, Princess. Say it and it’s yours.”

It was your turn to analyze him, to take every ounce of cockiness and pride. “You’re playing with fire.” You walked closer to him, erasing the distance but increasing the tension between the two of you. “All the money in the world won’t get you everything you want.”

He was quick to move, his soldiers instincts never left his body, clearly. His delicate hand wrapped around your throat so effortlessly. It tightened, forcing you to manage your breathing. “Money got me everything I wanted already.”

“What is it, Daddy? What is it that you want so badly?” You clenched your jaw, holding his glance which was filled with lust, instead of rage and grudges.

“You never looked so beautiful.” He leaned closer too, whispering the words to your ear. It was liked the loud club music turned into white noise. He could not care less about the stares and the words strangers exchanged as they witnessed the scene. High Town was not his playground.

But you were his plaything.

*~*~*

History repeated itself, in one way or another. Icons rose and fell. Symbols mattered and vanished into oblivion. Originality turned into plagiarism. Winners would lose it all, losers would dig their graves deeper into the abyss.

History repeated itself. The sight before your eyes was the same one as seven years ago, when all that was on this man’s life before meeting you was this stupid Mission Report of December 16 1991. You met him at a party like this, in High Town before he was banned from the land. He caught your attention doing his ridiculous dance moves, sharing his knowledge about the art pieces showcased around the room. Then he brought you to a hotel, the ones so fancy they had multiple rooms and a vintage record player as part of the decor. Only, it worked, and he put on his favourite Édith Piaf records. Rien de Rien, Le Petit Homme, La Vie en Rose, song after song, you were diving deeper in your memories.. He was popping yet another bottle of champagne open and pouring some in flutes you would never touch for the rest of the night. The same night, seven years ago, it changed your life. At the second you regretted setting foot in Mandripoor, he changed your mind and gave you the best months of your life. You would ride around Europe in vintage cars, dine in gigantic mansions you called castles. You admired the old paintings of his royal family members while he brought you a silk bathrobe to change into after a steamy shower.

You’d get lost in your thoughts, he’d get lost in his ambitions. You two were one and the same, in one way or another. That affirmation sent shivers down your spine. You could not tell if it was a good or a bad thing, a shy voice in your head was reassuring you it was the former.

“They call me Baron again, I guess I’m not doing too bad after all.” His voice snapped you back to reality. He was still wearing that obnoxious trench coat. You hated it, it made him look like a pimp. Although that was not too far from the truth, as the mountain of luxurious jewelry and clothes in your closet proved.

“Do you like being back here?”

“I love it here.” The emphasis on the last word was audible. You nodded in agreement. This place was heaven on Earth for some people, hell for others. For both you and Zemo, it was somewhere in between.

“You’re certainly not here for me.” You laughed, setting the still full glass on the nightstand.

He shook his head, mouthing a negative response.

“What is it, this time? Mission report February 32?”

“Something like that.” He answered, after another silent laugh.

“If only you had made me your mission, your life would have been easier.”

“Yours would have been, too.”

You shrugged. You agreed, but you did not need to say it. He knew. The two of you knew that this warmth washing over your bodies was the answer to all of your problems. Yet, you were fighting the urge to surrender and give in.

History always repeated itself.

All it took was for him to set his hand on your exposed knee. You got flashbacks of the numerous times his hand rested there while you two drove deeper in the country side, in some old Chevrolet, Ford, or any other European brands he could find and buy.

“Say it, Princess. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

You swallowed thickly and fell on your knees. He sat straight, as straight as he could on the comfortable mattress, and spread his legs wider. “I want to go back in time.”

He leaned foward and you opened your mouth, your tongue poking out. He spit in your mouth, and you swallowed. The giggle that followed your actions sent blood to his hardening cock. “Just as eager as I remembered, right? You’d do anything to please me.”

“I’d do anything for you, Daddy.” You repeated, the confession left you breathless.

“That’s my good girl.” He brushed your hair with so much tenderness for a moment, you let out a content moan. He changed the mood real quick when he pushed your head closer to his crotch and unbuckled his belt at lightning’s speed.

Your mouth was watering at the sight, a sight that was tattooed in your memory forever. Whatever relationship you two had went beyond fancy presents and sex, it was a connection that tickled your souls and left you a different woman than when it first started. You wasted no time, stroking him a few times as you spit on his blushing tip. You smeared the spit over his sensitive spot and pulled the sweetest moans out of him, which grew louder and more intense when you finally wrapped your lips around his head.

No one compared to you, to your attention to details, to the way you were taking him all in, inches by inches like you were made for his cock and his cock only. No one compared to how blissful you looked pulling back, choking on your own saliva and the lack of oxygen. “You look so beautiful, Babygirl.”

His praise made you bat your eyes, hoping to receive more compliments. You flattened your tongue, licking him from the base to the top before you deep throated his cock again. You never left him untouched, your hands were massaging his walls or exploring his thick thighs while your mouth almost brought him to the edge.

That was when he pulled on your hair and demanded you went back up on your feet. “I bet you’re soaked. All you need is to see a cock to wet your panties.” You nodded as one hand reached up to cup your face, the other to cup your core from under your dress. He could felt the ever growing wet patch. He discarded of your panties in one effortless pull and pressed his pointer and middle fingers against your sensitive clit. He circled it, studying your reaction.

“Daddy...” You breathed out. “I need you.”

“I’m proud of you for using your words,” his finger slipped inside of your entrance, you moaned out his name. “So greedy and needy and easy for me, like the good whore that you are. Is that right? You’re Daddy’s perfect little whore?”

He was two fingers in, all the way to the last knuckles. He pumped in and out of you slowly yet roughly. You smirked when he finally touched that spongy spot inside of you. “I’m Daddy’s. I’ll always belong to Daddy.”

“That’s right.”

He brushed his thumb over your clit, his fingers stopped fucking your hole to abuse the bundle of nerves until tears started to pool in your eyes.

“Be a good baby.” You looked at him with doe eyes, sucking his thumb between your plump lips. “Do what I want.”

And you reached your high. You had nothing to hold you up, except for your shaky legs that threatened to give in under your weight and the intensity of your orgasm. You sucked on his thumb harder, hoping to quiet some of your moans but your screams escaped your parted lips.

In a blink of an eye, you were pushed against the bed and bounced against the body that blocked your every movement. His pants were nowhere to be found, just like the rest of your respective clothes. Your finger tips brushed over the skin of his shaven cheeks, down to his neck and chest. The intimacy, you had craved it all these years.

“I bet that sweet cunt of yours missed my cock.” He spoke, chuckling mockingly when he pushed himself in your stretched hole. You both let out a long moan of satisfaction. He rested inside of you, adjusting to your warmth and tightness. “I was right.”

“You’re always right.” You flattered his ego, and earned a sloppy kiss in return.

His lips moved down to your neck where he sucked hickeys and left small bite marks as he picked up the pace of his hips.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, hoping to bring him that much closer, and deeper, into you.

Zemo pinned your wrists above your head and pumped his cock inside of your tight pussy like his life depended on it. “So fucking wet for me,  gonna make me cum, Baby.” He had tried so hard to hold back, not to mark you and claim you again.

“Wait for me.” You begged him, and he brought one hand down to your neck again. He squeezed it, choking you deliciously until your eyes rolled inwards. He tightened his grip ever so slightly and he felt it, he felt the way your walls fluttered around him.

He thrusted inside of you, his hips snapped against yours and the sound of your skin slapping echoed in the bedroom. “Cum for me, Princess. Cum with Daddy.”

And you did, your body exploded in fireworks when you felt his release planted inside of you. He kept moving, rocking back and forth. He leaned back, leaving your neck to rub your clit once again. He was a moaning mess, the overstimulation made it almost painful to keep going but he did not want it to stop, not until...

“Fuck, Daddy!” And a second wave of pleasure hit you hard, it left you panting and shaking even more than before.

Zemo had to pull away quickly, and already missed the feeling of being inside of you.

Your fingers reached between your bodies, dipping into your folds and moving up to your lips as they were covered in his seed. You painted your lips with his white cum, before you licked them and your fingers clean as he watched, completely amazed and mesmerized. “Taste just as good as I remembered.”

He laughed, he was always one step ahead of everything and everyone, but you always managed to take him by surprise. You were just that great, that perfect. He rolled to the side and fell heavily on the bed. His skin was glistening under the light of the chandeliers from the thin layer of sweat.

You pressed your legs together, clenching around nothing. You hoped you could keep his load inside of you, as a proof this had really happened and it was not just one of your daydreams where you two would be reunited.

“I missed this.” You boke the silence with a small voice. Your fingers brushed over the bruises on your neck, and you hissed at the sensitive skin.

He turned on his side, worried for a second that he went too hard on you. The smile and joy on your face proved him otherwise. “I missed you, Princess.”

“I missed you so much, Daddy.”

*~*~*

The sun hurt your eyes, he noticed. He slipped out of the bed to pull on the curtains only to hurry back to you so you could lay your head on his chest. You were still wearing your bracelet, he started playing with it.

His mind was racing, just like his heart. You could feel it rumble in his chest like a loud engine. Something was bothering him.

“Oh, Zemo...” You caressed his cheek, looking up to study his features. “You can fool the smartest people in the world, but you’ll never be able to lie to me.”

“I’m coming home, Baby. I’m coming home now.”

You looked down again, taking a moment to answer. “Let me guess, you’ll take me to a fancy house like Rebecca’s Manderley and Jane Eyre’s manor at the Rochester’s. You’ll show me around, make me feel like I belong. And you’ll leave, high and dry. Again. All the money and presents from your people won’t erase the pain I felt. Not this time, not ever.”

He pressed his thin lips together. Pain, suffering, he was used to it. He had his fair share of it, caused even more to other people. The thought of hurting you, however, was unbearable.

“Every kingdom needs its king...” He paused and moved you, so you were resting on your elbows and your face was closer to his. “And an even greater queen.”

#baron zemo #helmut zemo #marvel imagine #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws spoilers #tfatws #one shot: champagne problems