#helmut zemo fan fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deceitfuldevil · 2 years

Note

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.

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 2 years

Text

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

Tags List:

@dweeb-central @nvtaliaromanovv

#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

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rollforjackass · 11 months

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson & Helmut Zemo Characters: Helmut Zemo, James "Bucky" Barnes, Sam Wilson (Marvel) Additional Tags: Nebulous Zemo Parole Universe | Helmut Zemo Paroled from the Raft, Developing Friendships, goofy self-indulgence with a smidgen of angst, not even really a smidgen more like a sm

Ah, shipping crates. The only way to travel.

“This is a stupid plan,” Bucky hisses from the general direction of Zemo’s lower back.

The crate they’ve crammed themselves into is made of iron, insulation padding the inside to protect them from heat-identifying technology. The lid is close enough that Zemo’s breath jets back into his face, hot and sour. The buckles of Bucky’s body armor are wedged uncomfortably against his spine, dragging at his skin and catching on his shoulder holsters with every restless shift. (And there have been many.)

“You’re the one who wanted to go back to Madripoor,” Sam retorts, voice muted through the layers of iron that separate their box from his. There’s a note of smugness in his voice that Zemo instantly hates; of the three of them, Sam had been the only one to get his own crate. Zemo and Bucky, on the other hand, have had to make do with being back-to-back and head-to-foot, a situation that Zemo takes comfort in knowing is far less cozy for the other, taller man.

“Want is a strong word when you're being chased by the US government, and I didn’t want to go by UPS,” Bucky snarls back.

Zemo resists the urge to kick out behind him, resorting to diplomacy instead. “Gentlemen, it is a fourteen hour trip by ferry, and we are to be contained for three of those hours. If we could refrain from wasting oxygen for that duration?”

“Funny, I was gonna say the same thing to you,” comes Sam’s muffled rejoinder. Bucky snorts softly and Zemo does kick this time, his heel thudding satisfactorily into something meaty and earning a grunt of pain.

“Terribly sorry,” he says sweetly.

Bucky says something that sounds like ‘truck cough’. Zemo’s sure he’s misheard.

The first hour goes by relatively painlessly. By his second year of Sokovian military service, Zemo had perfected the art of falling asleep at a moment’s notice, on ground far less comfortable and in environments far more dangerous; this time, he had had the forethought to remove his coat before getting in the crate, making a fairly comfortable pillow. It takes little effort to tune out the mutterings of his closed-in companions, and less to drop off.

The downside is that he has also perfected waking up at the slightest disturbance, and Bucky fidgets like he has a shirt full of ants. Every ten minutes, it seems, Zemo snaps to attention to the bump of a boot heel against his shoulder, an accidental smack against his ankle, an ammo clip wedged into his kidneys. It is immensely irritating.

Overcoming the increasingly-sincere desire to kick the former Winter Soldier in the head does not grow easier with time: before the second hour has passed, Barnes is humming to himself, songs that, from their strict tempo and rhythm, Zemo takes to be old wartime anthems. Through the wall of the case, he can hear Sam doing much of the same – albeit with more songs that he’s familiar with – as well as the faint thumps of what he takes to be impromptu drum solos against the insulation.

Yet more proof that life outside of prison is not always a better one, if I have to spend it with these people, he thinks, resigned.

He closes his eyes and tries to recall the old movies he had loved as a younger man, to keep from going any more insane than he already is. He had not watched many in the last six years, between his quest for revenge and prison; the details are hazy now, like the signal on the television when the bombings came too close to their neighborhood, each impact polluting Hitchcock and Herzog with static and warbled dialogue.

When Karl was born, he had paid an exorbitant amount for a Smart TV, hoping vainly that streaming sites and the Internet would be enough to shield his son from the wars outside, from the endless fighting. If only it could have held up the roof of his father’s home.

He swallows against the pain the recollection brings, frustration and nausea coagulating in his chest like the phlegm of a bad head cold. Sam and Bucky have taken to bonding over a song they both know, a repetitive number about the alphabet. It seems to bring them some measure of joy, although Zemo can’t piece together what ‘YMCA’ could possibly stand for. Something about men. None of them are particularly heteronormative, so that doesn’t surprise him.

He tries again to sink into his own mind, scrounging for something with detail and without the painful memories attached. He settles for recounting episodes of The Great British Bake-Off – they had watched it in Riga while staving off jet lag, after much disagreement over which sports constituted ‘entertainment’ and much difficulty locating English subtitles for Sam.

There’s something soothing about recalling the recipes and the designs, assigning arbitrary values to desserts that look like children’s clay creations; it’s a formula, simple and easy to follow. Challenge, explanation, the five stages of grief, banter that is neither entirely insulting nor entirely not. The schadenfreude of witnessing confidence crumble into despair.

Truly a staple of European television.

“She should have won off her fondant alone,” Bucky says wistfully, and Zemo comes to the appalling realization that he has been reciting the details aloud. In a confined space. With the only one of them who has enhanced senses.

“Her composition sucked, man,” Sam argues through the wall, picking up the thread of an old argument. “You can’t have just one thing going right and expect to win, it’s a combination of elements.”

“It’s bullshit,” Bucky retorts. “That cake looked better than all the other ones put together. You put some ice cream with that and no one would have been calling it dry.”

“So she should have won because something that wasn’t even part of the challenge might fix the texture if they added it? That’s not how it works!”

“You are very invested for someone who dismissed the competition as, how did you put it: ‘voyeurism for culinary sadists’,” Zemo points out, more than a little peeved by the eavesdropping.

“I said it was a show for white people who can’t bake to feel better about themselves, and I am one: not white, and two: an awesome baker, so I absolutely get to make fun of these people,” Sam protests. “Case in point, you guys are the ones who love it.”

“I can bake,” Bucky says, sounding genuinely hurt.

“No you cannot.”

“I bake! I baked all the time back before I shipped out.”

“Uh huh, heating up war rations isn’t the same as baking.”

“Steve and I made cakes on Christmas. He did the batter, and I did the icing.”

“I don’t believe a word out of your mouth right now. I can’t imagine you baking.”

“Well getting brainwashed for ninety years doesn’t exactly help my image.”

“I also bake,” Zemo offers, just to remind them that he's there. “In fact, with my experience, I would argue I am the most qualified person here to judge the contestants fairly.”

“Like hell,” Sam says, at the same time that Bucky says, “Bullshit.”

Zemo frowns, actually offended. “Neither of you can profess to be experts in the culinary arts when you are unable to sit still long enough to make a correct cup of tea.”

“Tea is completely unrelated to baking,” Bucky points out.

Zemo shrugs, forgetting that neither of them can see it. “On the contrary, I find tea to be an apt metaphor for the process. Tea requires patience, mindfulness, and the balancing of ingredients – too sweet and the flavor is diminished, too bland and there is little joy in its consumption. It can be a one-man endeavor, or it can be shared with others, and it can be decorated to personal taste. This is all much like baking, yes?”

“Did you make tea for your family?” Sam asks abruptly.

It can’t have been asked out of cruelty -- Sam Wilson is certainly a petty man, but he is not cruel -- but Zemo feels his stomach twist all the same, leveling his voice into smooth, polite neutrality that gives nothing away. “Tea is a social event in my country. Was a social event. As is baking, as in many countries, or the show would not exist and you would not feel so passionately about my superior expertise.”

“Were you born annoying or is that a social event for you too?” Bucky grumbles.

Zemo allows himself a grin, since neither of them can see it. “That is entirely dependent on the company. After all, people tend to mirror the personality traits of those they surround themselves with.”

“And you picked up ‘asshole’ from Bucky instead of ‘nice’ from me?”

“If it helps, I believe I picked up a cell on the Raft from you.”

“You’re about to pick up these hands,” Sam retorts.

"If you want someone to hold your hand, Sam, you shouldn't have chosen the solo crate," Bucky innocently points out.

Sam says something that sounds like 'truck cough.' Funny, Zemo thinks with real amusement, how people so easily pick up the colloquialisms of those they spend time with.

#tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #helmut zemo #bucky barnes #sam wilson #fan fic #my writing

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addict-rat · 1 year

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Your Eyes Betray You

Summary: You have a rivalry with Zemo and his team, but you also have mixed feelings with him, in one mission you both finally end up saying what you feel and more.

Words count: 2880

Paring: Helmut Zemo x F!Reader

Warnings: +18 Explict, swering, very poorly written smut, wall sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, fingering, p in v.

Author’s note: Buenas, I just want to say a few things, frist this is my frist smut written in english, that leads to the second thing english not my first language I know a bit of the language but still learning so I used a translator from time to time if you see a mistake in the grammar or in general please let me know, I accept criticism but I don’t tolerate hate comments or similar. I probably gonna write more fanficons so I accept request in the future and I in the process of writing a Namor fanfic x!Reader. Gracias enjoy the fic :D

My masterlist.

Your career as a government agent was going pretty well. Not long ago you had been promoted to a position now you have your own team of agents to lead although you still had to follow orders from your superior, Secretary Ross. you could say that you had done everything to be where you were now, and you knew that one day you would be in a higher position than the one you were currently in, you worked hard to have a record of success in most of your missions, that was one of the reasons why you were given this position, however everything changed when you met your now "enemies" the Thunderbolts.

Thunderbolts was a team similar to yours except they had two supersoldiers, Ava Starr better known as Phantom, Justin Hammer and criminal mastermind who more than once could take you down. While your team was not bad, the problem was that it turns out you were not the best person to lead, since most of your life you had and preferred to work on your own.

Valentina and Ross were on the same path, therefore Thunderbolts and your team ended up on the same mission so you saw them very often, they were a headache for you because you knew you had a half chance of succeeding in the mission and a half chance of losing because of them.

Everyone already knew each other, it was like seeing co-workers who had been together for many years, but as team leader you knew all the opposing team better, especially their leader.

Helmut Zemo.

Being both team leaders you had faced him before, at first you could say you had no opinion of him, after meeting him on a mission where you lost, you began to hate him especially when you realized how much you found yourself thinking about him, you were not going to admit the obvious you had to stay focused on what mattered.

You weren't a fan of missions that involved having to infiltrate parties and looking like you were enjoying being there, usually these types of missions you would send someone from your team, but this time you had to go, so there you were finishing your fifth drink. You were waiting for the host of the party to come out of his office so you could go and get some files that could put a big f behind bars, you heard in one of your headphones that he had already left his office and that you could move on, so you preferred to go and finish the mission instead of having your sixth drink, you walked straight to where there was a crowd of people dancing.

"I thought you didn't like these kinds of events" you pulled away a little when you saw how close you were to him "I don't I'm here beacuse of work, look like you a really having fun" you said in a mocking tone "I'm here beacuse of work too and your distracting me, can you even fight in that? "You tried to ignore the previous comment even though you still felt that feeling that had become recurrent in your stomach and you knew that he was the reason for your behavior. Your thoughts left you when you heard one of your colleagues telling you to hurry before he went back to his office "I don't have time for this and yes I can fight in this" you said walking to where you should have been a few minutes ago.

You felt someone pulling you by your arm so hard that you ended up glued to the body of the man who had pulled you, obviously it had to be the last person you wanted to see here and who in fact you were expecting to see.

The mansion you were in was so ridiculously big that it took you a little longer to get there, in some corridors there were people around so you had to find another way or wait for them to leave. You were a little more relieved that you were so close, you just had to look for the files and leave being as cautious as possible. Already in front of the door you looked to the sides before placing your hand on the door handle but before you could open the door, you were a little scared since no one had warned you that someone was already inside but your concern was gone when you saw Zemo in the door frame, the two looked at each other for a few minutes, you still did not understand how he had arrived so fast.

"If you are looking for the same as me, good luck, I doubt you will find a copy" whenever he was in advantage or beat you he always put that mocking smile, you saw him walking away while you doubted if you were really looking for the same or were different motives of the mission, but still you went after him, you approached him and he stopped walking when you reached him "Do you really want took me into a fight in that dress?" he asked this time looking at you again from head to toe "Do you want to try me? Baron" he approached you, cornering you in the wall "Do you know I love when you use my title?" you were going to answer him but you both became alert when you heard footsteps and you heard your team warning you that someone was coming in the corridor, obviously it was going to be suspicious to see you two standing near the office and there was no time to go anywhere else.

You grabbed Zemo by his coat and pulled him closer to you, you whispered an almost inaudible "sorry" before you started kissing him, obviously nobody was going to suspect two lovers looking for a place to be alone, at first Zemo was a little astonished he didn't expect you to do that, but he understood that it was to cover the two of you and not to raise suspicions, so he didn't let go of you, his leg got between yours applying some pressure, which made you moan in the kiss, he took the opportunity to dominate more the kiss and taste inside you, you didn't want to admit it but it was the first time you had been kissed so well.

You remembered that this was your chance to look for the files in his coat, your hands traveled through Zemo's coat, trying to find the files but he noticed what you were doing, he took your hands and slammed them against the wall, pulling something out of you between a sigh and a moan, something you were going to regret later "You like that don't you? You like it when someone else takes control" He said close to your lips, you started to move your hips a little on the leg he had between yours, you did it by mere instinct you hadn't even noticed, " Egear are we? " He murmured as he left a path of kisses from your jaw to your neck, you let out a gasp as you felt his wet kisses, your weak legs brought you back to reality and you saw that there was no one but the two of you in the hallway "T- they're already gone" Zemo let go of your wrists "Yes, I know they left like two minutes ago" he left a kiss on your cheek "Looking for this, Draga? "He took out a small usb from his coat and put it back almost immediately, while you were still stunned and bewildered by what had just happened a few seconds ago.

You followed him down another corridor when you had already put your feet on the ground again, when you got to the corner where he had crossed he was not there, you looked around, but it was useless, there was no one there, you walked back from where you came but you saw from afar that a group of people were coming and you saw that from the other side of the corridor as well. For a moment you were paralyzed, but they dragged you to another small room, that looked like a cellar or something similar, the room was only illuminated by the small lines of the shutter that almost completely covered the window of the door.

"What..."

You couldn't finish.

"Shhh."

"Don't shhh to me"

He put his hand on your mouth "Shhhh" you heard murmurs that were going to close where you were, you did not pay attention to what they were talking, you were more focused on watching him even with the little light that came from the hallway, his dark eyes staring at the door where he had you nailed, you saw how he frowned to concentrate on what the other people were talking, his dark hair well combed and how soft it seemed to be, you wanted to pass your hand touching him.

"Enjoying the view?" He ask with that cooky smirt and removed his hand from your mouth "I do, although I preferred the way you looked in the hallway" he tilt his head, his hands went to your hips "You didn't look at me like you hated me... but you don't, do you? Well you did at first, but then you pretended to" Your eyes widened in amazement, after all this time you were still impressed by how capable he was of reading you despite how good you were at pretending.

"Your eyes, your eyes betrayed you" he replied as if he knew what you were going to ask, it was no secret that he no longer saw you as if his gaze could kill you, at first he detested you especially you being the one who had beaten him a few times, but that had been a long time ago.

Your lips approached his, when it finally looked like your lips were about to touch his, he moved a few inches away from you "Tell me what do you want, darling?" You bite your lip, his hand slowly went down to the hem of your dress, caressing your thighs under your dress "Please, please Helmut... Touch me, make me yours please fuck me please" you begged pathetically for the other man to touch you, you never thought you would beg like that for anyone ever in your life, but for him, you didn't mind doing it.

This time it was his lips that found you and he drank you in almost the same way he had done in the past kiss, his kisses went down to your neck and his hands this time went up your dress to your waist and into your panties playing with the now wet fabric, you were about to beg for more, when you heard the rustle of the fabric tearing, You gave a gasp of astonishment that quickly turned into a more erotic one as you felt his fingers in your wet folds "You won't need these" he said finishing removing your panties "You already so wet for me" one of his hands took your leg to lift it a little, your fingernails dug into his shoulders to steady you.

"Don't stop Zemo ples...Ah" Two of his long and thick fingers penetrated into your wet cunt, his fingers curled in that place that made you forget where you were. "Ah" you moaned loudly feeling how his fingers stretched you and at the same time his thumb started massaging circles in your clit. You began to feel that sensation in your belly that indicated your orgasm was beginning to form, your nails dug deeper into his shoulders. His lips so close to yours that you could feel his breaths heaving and he could feel your gasps and moans.

"Zemo... I..." His lips caught your lips in a kiss before you could raise your voice any more, you heard footsteps and murmurs outside, across the hall but they gradually receded. "You have to be a little more quite, my love... As much I would love to hear you, we can't let anyone hear us, do you understand?" Zemo asked you shortly after you came down from your state of pleasure. "Yes, Baron" you said he kissed you again, this time a little shorter "Good girl" you were surprised when he turned and your face pressed into the door, you heard the sound of his belt unbuckling as well as the zipper of his pants, one of his hands was on your hip gripping you tightly then you were to find the bruise in the shape of his hand on your hip, with his other hand he said the tip of his cock was moving in your wet folds "Stop teasing me, baron please" a choked moan came from your lips as you felt him slowly penetrate you, it was much bigger than you had thought, your count trembling with the strecht as inch after inch.

You both let out a sigh when he fully stettled, both of his hands on your hips "Fuck, you're so thigt" He whisper in your ear leaving a path of kisses and hickeys in your neck, you moved your head to the side leaving him more space, you let out a loud moan when you felt his teeth penetrating the skin between your neck and shoulder "Oh! Don't mark me you possesive... Oh fuck" you whimper when you felt how he came out completely and penetrated you again in a single movement, his nails dug into your hips while he came out and entered you in a constant pace, Zemo grabbed you by the neck turning your head so he could kiss you, his kisses were hungry, a little violent, you tried to follow the same rhythm as him returning him with kisses full of lust and needy, you didn't separate until you were both out of breath, a loud moan came from your lips when he hit that place that left you wanting more, your back arched and he noticed it by the way your legs weakened and by the way your walls squeezed his cock, his pace this time faster hitting that sweet place. Even though you wanted to be quiet because you were not exactly alone, anyone could pass through the hallway and hear you, but Zemo made it difficult for you to be quiet, his arm grabbed your hips while the other one massaged your clitoris, a gasp escaped your lips from the pleasure he was giving you, it wasn't a few minutes later when you felt your second orgasm come again.

"I'm so close... I'm gonna come" you let out a loud moan "Come for my draga" he grabbed your neck bringing your head to his shoulder, he applied a little pressure to your neck, which brought you to your second orgasm with a sigh and a gasping moan, Zemo waited until your breathing was no longer so agitated and came back with the same pace he had before. You felt his seed fill you deep inside your walls, you heard profanities between Sokovian and Ingles in between cut off by his agitated breathing.

After a few minutes you both had come down from your euphoria, you felt Zemo's lips on your bare shoulder, his short but affectionate kisses were going up to your cheek, his hand grabbed your jaw returning it to his face leaving a soft and affectionate kiss on your lips, you kissed him back, you let out a whimper in the middle of the kiss when he came out of you, you felt his semen going down your thighs "We could have had fun a long time ago... you know it was much better than I had fantasized..." you weren't going to admit that you had also dated him in this way, but that wasn't something you would say out loud at least not today. you know it was much better than I had fantasized" you weren't going to admit that you had also fooled around with him in this way, but that wasn't something you would say out loud to him at least not today. You both began to arrange yourselves to hide any kind of evidence. You looked for your panties on the floor, when you found them they were torn "Great, now I have to go back without underwear thanks Zemo" you said showing him your ruined panties, Zemo took them out of your hands and put them in his coat "I will buy you new ones, and next time I won't tear them" you both left the room and walked down the hall "So now we will do this on every mission we see each other" You smirk devilish "I can't promise you that I won't, but I'd prefer it to be somewhere more private" they both laughed a little "What a strange way to propose a date but ok I'll take it" they both headed for the exit and went their separate ways to where each team was waiting for them, and there Zemo noticed that you had removed the usb.

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rax-writes · 3 years

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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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maukimagna · 3 years

Text

The problems with German in fanfics.

First of all, this post isn't meant to attack writers who include German in their fics. I actually love it. As a native speaker I like it when someone tries to speak it, or it comes up. It makes me happy for nor reason at all. But most of the time, there are some common problems. If you are a writer that currently writes fics, one shots ect. With German in it, it might be wise to read this post. But I can't force you. Do what makes you happy.

GRAMMAR: Ok this is a big one. Grammar in German is hard and sometimes makes no sense at all. But it is kinda essential for the sentence. Much more than in English, because we have 3 genders that apply to our words. Maskulinum, Femininum and Neutrum. (Der/Die/Das) so we use different articels and they change often into other forms and the following words (adjectives and nouns) need to be compatible with them. If this does not happen, the sentence makes little sense, or is funny as fuck. For example "Der ist einer Mädchen" )The red parts are wrong.) The sentence should say "she is a girl" but it says "he is a girl" because the first article is genderd wrong (Maskulinum instead of Femininum) and the second indefinite article is also genderd wrong. It is genderd as maskulinum, but should be a Neutrum. In English you do not gender your articles like that, so I can't translate the mistake. So that might be hard to understsand. But I hope you get it. But why do I tell you this? I do it because this is the most common mistake I've seen in fics: misgendering words.

OUTDATED WORDS: Like every other language German also has words that are not used anymore, or just very rarely. Some of them even lost their meaning or it changed. Common words that are found in fics and aren't used anymore are: das Luder (A woman that... is sly/uses her looks to get her career going/ is cunning. It is also used to refer to little girls that misbehave a lot.) die Augenweide (Most of the time it is used on people that look very beautiful bit you can also say it to objects, animals or landscape.) Der Schwerenöter ( A man that is very alluring and has had a lot of women) Der Süßholzraspler (A person that flatters someone too much.) Das Honigkuchenpferd ( A person that is always happy / extremly happy at the moment) der Kavalier (A well mannerd and nice Man / a bit like gentleman) Das Fräulein (a young woman that isn't married) And many more but this is what comes to my mind now. Not even my 92 year old great grandmother uses this.

ENGLISH PET NAMES IN GERMAN: The problem is, that you can't just translate pet names. German pet names are different and if you translate some English ones, it can get weird pretty fast. For example "honey" is often used in English and I really like it. It sounds so melodic. But in German you do not call your significant other "Honig". I've never heard it and it just sounds off. More common pet names are: Schatz (treasur) or Schatzi (a cuter form of treasur, but it has a bad reputation because of some german celebrity.) Schätzchen (Also a cute way to say treasure but without the reputation. Often used for women) Süßer (A sweet man) Süße (A sweet women) Schönheit (beauty) liebling (someone you love dearly/ kinda like darling) Maus (Mouse) Herzblatt ( heart-leaf. Used very rarely.) Engelchen (a cute form to say Angel -> {Engel}. Most of the time used for women.) Sonnenschein (Sunshine. Also used rarely) Täubchen (a cute way to say dove. Also used extremly rarely.)

If you are a writer and struggle with this because you write Zemo from tfatws or so. Hit me up. Anyone can write me a message (Anon or not dosen't matter). I will gladly help you.

Again I wanted to say that this shouldn't be patronizing. The fics I've read were remarkably eloquent and written in a very beautiful way. It was a joy to read them. I just want to help you guys out because I hate it when I find out that I did something wrong in Spanish or English. But I love it if someone points it out to me so I can learn how to do it better the next time.

This post will probably get a part two about German culture.

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loveofafangirl · 3 years

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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

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mcbiteypantspresents · 2 years

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I only recently got into reading fan fiction.

#winterbaron #helmut zemo #daniel bruhl #tfatws #bucky barnes #hydra trash party #adhd hyperfixation #fan fiction #fan fic problems #dead dove do not eat

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ay0nha · 2 years

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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

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emptymidnight · 1 year

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My second piece for @zsparz ‘s wonderful story The Original Sin. When I read this chapter I just knew I had to try and capture this awesome scene.

#winterbaron #bucky x zemo #zemo #helmut zemo #bucky barnes #fan fic #fan art #my art

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deceitfuldevil · 2 years

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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

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awhorewithissues · 3 years

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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

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liz-allyn · 3 years

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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

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rax-writes · 3 years

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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

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leylinefiction · 3 years

Text

No More Yesterdays: Chapter 9

Hazel is growing increasingly frustrated. She is trying to reattach the arm on the suit but she can’t get the leverage needed with just her left arm. She can get the soldered wires and metal to align but actually holding it in place while she secures the plates with the miniature welding torch, she’s just not able to do. The metal falls on the concrete floor for the fifth time with a loud clatter.

“Shit!”

“Problems, Maus?”

Hazel turns and sees Zemo enter the garage. “Oh no, everything’s great.” She tosses the small welding torch back into her tool kit for the suit in utter disgust.

He has a pale blue wool coat folded over his arm. “Come. Walk into town with me.”

“I have to fix this-” she turns towards him to see he’s already holding the coat open for her and he gives it a delicate shake. Well, she certainly isn’t getting anything done at the moment. “What the hell.”

“Ah,” he quips as she slides her good arm into the sleeve of the coat and gently drapes the other side over her injured arm. “The three words every man loves to hear. ‘What the hell.’”

“Sorry, I’m just frustrated. And tired.” Hazel takes the cashmere scarf he hands her and loops it around her neck with her good arm. “I’ll be better company.”

“I will hold you to that.”

She follows him out of the garage and into the biting spring cold. Even though the chalet is sitting at the base of the mountains, the walk is relatively short into the heart of Chamonix. As they wander the old cobblestone streets, Hazel feels the shift between them. Their conversation the other morning had altered their views on each other. No longer are they a wanted terrorist and wannabe-Avenger; now they are just displaced refugees trying to find their place in the post Blip-world.

“Any word on Karli’s whereabouts?” he asks her.

Hazel checks her phone. “Nope. I have Friday monitoring the internet, social media, satellites, and more for anything and everything that can be connected to the Flag Smashers and the Power Broker. They’ve been uncharacteristically quiet.”

He “hms” in response but leaves it at that. “And Sam and James?”

“They, on the other hand, are not being very quiet. But I’ve checked in with them at all the appropriate times and they’re settling down.”

“That’s surprising.”

Hazel laughs. “I thought so too. But I also don’t look a gift horse in the mouth either.”

“A wise choice.”

There are multiple footbridges that crisscross through the town and Hazel stops on one of them. The water is an opaque greenish-blue color as it runs under the bridge and into the center of the town. The mountains stand in the distance and it’s a breathtaking view. Zemo’s shoulder brushes hers as he leans on the railing and again the familiarity between the two of them doesn’t go unnoticed. Hazel decides to take a chance.

“Would you tell me about your wife?” She expects him to deflect the question or just say no outright but a small smile graces his face before he starts to speak.

“She was a beautiful woman, inside and out. Intelligent, elegant, strong-willed,” he gives her a knowing look but softened with nostalgia, “stubborn.”

“How did you meet?”

“It was arranged, as most noble marriages were in my country. But Lena and I were fortunate. We liked each other, and were friends before the subject of marriage was approached. We both considered the arraignment advantageous. Both of our parents were not so lucky with their marriages. We were very...happy.”

Hazel doesn’t know what to say given all the emotion she can hear behind that one word. Happy. James Baldwin, an American novelist that Hazel had read in college, once said “The most dangerous creation of any society is the man who has nothing to lose.” Helmut Zemo seems to be that quote personified and she understands now hearing the emotion and memory soaked words he spoke.

She lays her hand on his. “I’m terribly sorry for what happened to your family. It’s...beyond unfair.”

He stares at her hand for a moment before his fingers close, one by one, around hers. “Thank you.” He stands up straight and starts to walk still keeping her hand in his. “Now, tell me about the countless hearts you have broken in your wake.”

Hazel laughs. “Rich and a sense of humor.”

His fingers slide effortlessly between hers and the intimacy sends a jolt up her spine. “There’s no one pining away for you back home?”

“Hardly.” Hazel swallows down the nervousness that has wrapped around her chest. “I was such an oddball growing up, I didn’t even go to Prom. And in college I was one of three women in the Engineering program and spent the majority of my time proving I was just as, if not more, capable then the men. That doesn't exactly earn you a lot of dating opportunities.”

“In Sokovia, a strong, highly intelligent woman was something sought after.” He tsks. “Such a pity.”

Hazel scoffs. “Yeah, and maybe they knew what they were missing out on too.”

He stops abruptly and Hazel runs into him. When she looks up at him, there’s such an intensity in his brown eyes she can’t figure out exactly what emotion he’s feeling. Still using their clasped hands, he tugs her towards him and their lips connect. The contact surprises her and he takes advantage of that by sliding a hand along the side of her face and into her hair, holding her stationary. She can feel his frustration and awe in the kiss and it confuses her. He releases her hand and she reaches up and grasps the lapel of his coat as he places his free hand around her waist. When he breaks the kiss, he rests his forehead against hers.

“My God, woman, you’re stubborn.”

She laughs lightly. “And you sir, are an enigma.”

He leans back slightly. “How so?”

Hazel feels herself blush. “Why me?”

“Why not you?”

She fidgets with the lapel of his coat. “I’m…”

“Unique. Cognitively nimble. Project motivated. Endearing.”

Hazel shakes her head. “And you call me stubborn.”

He leans down and kisses her again, softer and more sweetly than before and when they separate again, Hazel sees that it’s snowing. She knows the world is going crazy with John Walker, the Flag Smashers, and the GRC but for the moment, there’s peace and she’s going to enjoy it because it will not last for long.

“Dinner?”

Hazel releases the breath she has been holding. “Yes, please.”

He takes her hand from his coat and places in the crook of his elbow. “I know just the place.”

***

Zemo has no idea what he is doing. He is sitting across the table at one of the best restaurants in Chamonix, sipping the most expensive wine on the menu, and watching Hazel stare at the sunset-blushed mountains. Every drink he takes is an effort to taste something other than her. He is used to playing dangerous games but this feels different. It feels as if there’s more at stake.

He is shocked at himself for how easily he has spoken of his family and how she consistently responds with kindness and empathy. The trust she has placed in him is also unnerving. She allowed him to change the bandages earlier that day and showed no hesitation or fear that he would take advantage of her wounded condition. It would have been oh so easy to introduce a bateria into the wound and let nature take its course and he could disappear once again, never having to see the inside of a cell again.

But he couldn’t even bring himself to entertain the thought and that frightens him to his core. This woman has single handedly disarmed him with nothing but direct honesty, wit, and innocence. Then again, he is in a position to enjoy the situation he finds himself. There is no complex plot that needs to be negotiated, no revenge that he is seeking on behalf of himself or his lost family. If he wishes to indulge in an impromptu dalliance, then what is there to stop him? There will always be Flag Smashers to chase.

“You’re uncharastically quiet over there.”

He gives her a sly smile. “Merely enjoying the view.”

“You do realize I can tell when you’re being sincere and when you’re bullshitting me.”

“How so?”

She tears off a small piece of bread and puts it in her mouth.

He sighs. “I see.”

“The mouse needs to keep somewhat of an edge over the hawk.”

Good God, he’s falling in love with her. It takes a couple heartbeats for the realization to settle into his consciousness. He pours more wine into his glass and tries to list reasons as to why that can not be the case. He’s misreading the situation. He has a fever and this is just a hallucination. Or a dream. When Walker hit him with the shield, he has yet to wake up. But he refocuses back on Hazel, all those reasons evaporate as quickly as they appeared. She is very much real, and judging by the glint in her blue eyes, very much aware of the situation that they find themselves in.

“I haven’t seen Oeznik today,” Hazel breaks the silence. “Is he okay?”

No wonder the old man likes her so much. “He’s perfectly fine. He’s visiting some family in Switzerland. He’ll return by the end of the week.”

“So we’re unsupervised. How scandalous.” Hazel’s phone buzzes and she picks it up. “Smile.”

He gives her a slight smirk as she takes a picture and sends it. “Sam?”

“Bucky, actually.” She puts the phone back into the pocket of her coat. “I’m going to have to figure out how to fix that suit. I’m getting the feeling Karli is going to come out of the woodwork very soon. I’d like to feel semi-prepared for it.”

“I may be able to assist.”

She perks up at that and starts to stand up.

“Tomorrow,” he qualifies.

She sits back down again and frowns. This could work in his favor though. Her mental gears have shifted back to work.

“When you do research,” he asks her, pouring the rest of the wine into her glass, “how many places do you save your information?”

“Multiple. Why?”

“We found the man, Nagal, who created the super soldier serum that Karli stole.”

She takes a sip of the wine and narrows her eyes. “And what tells me Mr. Nagel is no longer creating serum?”

He waves dismissively. “Minor details.”

“I’m sure. Knowing you and your thoroughness though, I’m assuming his lab was lost as well.”

“The lab was destroyed, yes, but unfortunately, I can not take credit for that.”

“So you’re wondering if the serum formula is floating out there, somewhere, waiting for the highest bidder?”

Night has more than fallen, and Hazel props her head up on her hand. The candlelight bounces off her face and he can see the dark circles under eyes. She looks pale and exhausted in the dim light. The change in her demeanor strikes him as odd, however, he needs to remind himself that she is not used to the superhero lifestyle. “Yes, however, we can speak more on this tomorrow.”

“What? Why?”

“You look tired.”

She shrugs. “I always look like this.”

He stands and tries to hide his worry. She’s not wrong; she has always been pale and plagued with fatigue. But once again, she has never been trained for endurance. The streets are quiet as they walk back to the chalet. Snow is still falling and with it that soft silence it always brings. Even Hazel relinquishes her chatterbox personality in respect for the environment. However, Zemo is aware that this time she is leaning more heavily on him than their previous walk. When they reach the house, she looks slightly better with rosy cheeks and brighter eyes.

“Thank you for dinner, Zemo.”

“Please,” he removes her coat and brushes his lips against her cheek, “Helmut.”

She hums and places a hand to forehead. Her cheeks are still flushed even though the house is quite warm. She takes an unsteady step and he reaches out to grab her uninjured arm and she falls into him.

“I don’t…” she starts to say before going completely limp. She’s completely white, except for her cheeks which are still a bright red.

A fever.

Dammit. He still has her coat in his hand and wraps her back up into the warmth before picking her up and heading back out into the cold. Due to the town being a famous ski resort, there is a hospital within walking distance. Thankfully, Hazel is light enough he’s able to keep a quick pace and is walking into the emergency department in under ten minutes.

He gives fake names, slips more than 800 euros to the staff for their silence, and sits in a private room waiting for news. They examine her for forty-three minutes and then bring her to the hospital room where he’s been waiting. He tries to hide his relief at seeing her walk in the room under her own power. The nurse helps her into the bed, hangs an IV bag on the hook and covers her with an extra blanket before leaving them alone. The fever seems to be lessening and Hazel gives him a crooked, yet tired, grin.

“All this because you wanted to get me into bed,” she quips.

The desire to laugh and strangle her hit him with equal parts. “Amazing how the only time you’re tolerable is when you pass out.”

“That would explain why Rhodey was always pushing me out of planes.”

“Hazel.” He tries to sound stern but all he can hear is fear.

She gives him a serious look and nods slightly. “They’re thinking it could be an infection from the arm. I told them how careful we’ve been with changing the bandages but they were pretty insistent that’s what it could be. They’re waiting for some bloodwork results and until then, pumping me full of antibiotics.”

He sits down in the chair next to the bed and sighs. “Good news then.”

“Hey,” she reaches out her hand to him and he gently takes, mindful of the IV lines. “Thank you for bringing me here. I know I come off as not being very observant but I know how easy it would have been for you to just...let me…” she shrugs. “I appreciate you taking care of me.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t want to face Oeznik when he came back with the news of your demise.”

“We couldn’t have that, no.” The fire in her face is almost gone and her eyes are losing the fever gleam. She’s looking more like herself and the relief starts to unwind the fear that sunk it’s claws into his heart.

There’s a quick rap on the door before the doctor steps into the room. Zemo gets a sinking feeling in his stomach when the doctor won’t meet either one of their eyes and instead focuses on the paperwork in front of him. Hazel must sense it too because he feels her fingers tighten around his hand.

“Ms. Carbonelli, we have your bloodwork results and there are some...anomalies.”

“What kind of anomalies?”

The doctor does finally look at Hazel. “Have you ever had a history of leukemia?”

#fan fic #tfatws #baron zemo x oc #baron zemo #helmut zemo

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