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undercoverpena · 2 years

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Interesting (ii)

interesting (i)

Baron/Helmut Zemo x Fem!Reader | 1.5k | Smut, you’re warned — not promising it’s the best, but I’m rusty with smut.

[gif not mine]

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You should leave the room.

Cheeks warm, thighs pressing together. All signs you shouldn’t have even replied. Should have kept your mouth shut.

But you’ve already gone too far.

You could argue you did that when you kissed him to appease Selby. Not needing to sell it as well as you did, not needing to slide your tongue into his mouth or let his hands wander, scorching your skin.

The same way his eyes are right now. Them burning into you, making your throat dry, desperately needing to slide your thighs together because… you want him.

You want him to rip your clothes from you, to leave marks on your skin. You want him to pull on your hair and throw you over his shoulder and take you to his room.

Thoughts you shouldn’t have about the man you helped break out of prison. Thoughts that shouldn’t be summoned about a man who was dangerous.

And yet, you didn’t fear him. Not even a little bit.

You wonder if he expects you to leave, to shout at him.

A better version of you would.

An even better version wouldn’t have said anything, to begin with. You’d have taken the drink and then excused yourself.

Not give into your lust. Because that’s all this was. Lust.

He’s a criminal—a man who was able to impersonate your friend, who blew up a building. Whether spurred by loss and grief or not, he still did it.

It’s why you should leave the room.

Bury your face into your pillow and get yourself off. Not hope he’ll do it for you. Because you shouldn’t let him touch you.

“It’s not too late to run from me,” he says, wringing his hands in front of you.

Somehow, it just makes you want him more.

The challenge. The confidence. The fact it’s frowned upon.

Not helped by the fact he keeps staring at you. Likely undressing you, his words running through your mind.

It’s then you stand up.

Mustering some confidence. He doesn’t move when you stand up. Not even when you stop in front of him. He doesn’t reach for you, giving you a land chance to bow out, to walk away.

You don’t take it.

Instead sliding the hem of your skirt up with your fingers, sliding a thigh either side of his. Watching his eyes flash, him not taking them from your face as his lips twitch.

The warmth of his palm against your thighs almost makes you rock your hips. His aftershave, musky, and wooden, hits your nose as a strand of hair falls over his forehead hearing him clear his throat.

“It’s not too late to ask me to leave…” you tease, tracing your bottom lip with your teeth. “If you don’t think this will be interesting…”

He smirks, ever so slightly as his finger slides up to your hip.

“I was interested the moment my eyes landed on you.”

Your lips curl, eyes flicking from his lips to his eyes, watching him do the same as your body moves closer.

“Such a charmer,” you whisper.

Your hand finding the back of his head, nails digging into his hair as your mouth latches onto his.

He tastes like a mix of sugar and whisky, a muffled vibration as he groans fuck against your lips. You don’t fight it when he pulls you closer by your hip, desperately wishing his other hand slid further north on your thigh.

Your stomach knotting, warmth and need spreading through you. Suddenly desperate for friction.

Even more so as your body inches closer to him until there’s no space between the two of you.

The fur of his coat tickling your skin.

Practically feeling his heart thundering against yours as you lose yourself in him.

You welcome the way his mouth nips at the skin under your jaw, sliding his tongue up to the spot under your ear as you roll your hips.

For someone who has been locked up, and as someone who didn’t know you, he knew you. Letting you rock ever so slightly, his hand urging you to as you feel the outline of his arousal through his slacks.

And you let a whimper escape, just as both his hands snap to your hips, halting your movements. A stern look meeting yours, one you were prepared to protest.

Until he moves you.

Flipping you so your spine is against the sofa, hovering over you. For a second, you’re disorientated. Feeling your own lips remain parted, eyes staring up at him, frozen. Rendered useless as his eyes darken as he drinks you in.

“I should say,” he says in a low growl, “If there’s a likeliness that you’ll regret this, I implore you to tell me to stop now, Liebling.”

Watching his eyes trace your face, his finger sliding over your cheek, dragging it until it’s tugging on the bottom of your lip.

Your tongue peeks out, circling the tip of it.

Hoping it’s enough of a sign. A silent plea for him not to stop as he inhales, before clearing his throat.

“You’ve piqued my interest, Zemo. I need to know if you’re all talk.”

He laughs.

Low. Dark. One which makes you wet as he stares at you hungrily. As if he’s been hiding his thoughts from you until now.

“I assure you I’m not.”

You arch your brow, ready to speak. But, he slides two fingers in your mouth, pinning your tongue down.

“Shh,” he whispers darkly, “You’ll need your voice, Liebling. To beg me. To moan my name.”

Your cocky response falls from your mind. Mouth parting in surprise.

“Because I’m not going to stop until you’re calling me Helmut… and I suspect,” he continues in the same tone, pulling his fingers back, “It’ll take me making you come at least three times before you’ll even consider calling me anything other than the enemy.”

Fuck.

Almost choking on your own breath as his lips slide into a smirk.

And you guess he thinks he’s won. All set to reconnect his lips back to yours.

But, you smirk, before adding, “I hope you fuck as much as you talk.”

He smirks, but less cocky.

And then he snaps—his mouth against yours, groaning as he pulls your hips towards him. The two of you kissing with an intensity you imagine both of you have been running from, so much so, you groan against this lips.

Your nails claw through his hair, his hand snaking in between the two of you, making your mouth fall open as he slides his mouth down your neck. The feel of his touch in two places making you whimper.

Because you’re pinned, his body keeping you in place. Not able to move, or shift, to gain the upper hand.

And then he slides his fingers over your underwear, silently meeting your eyes, checking for permission—one you quickly give.

Your hand finds his shoulder as he slides his fingers inside your damp, silk underwear. His lips sliding into a devious smirk, ghosting his touch over you until you’re about to plead—to beg. Before he slides his fingers inside of you, filling and stretching you as your head falls back to the cushion.

And everything else around the two of you is forgotten.

Your brain forgetting you should hate him.

Just needing him, desperately craving more that he quickly gives you. Focusing on not moaning his name as he curls his fingers inside of you. His thumb swiping over your clit as you whimper.

You try to pull him down, needing to bury your moans against his lips. But he just watches. Eyes glinting, shimmering as he does so.

Occasionally teasing you by ghosting his lips over yours as you whimper more, and more.

“Sweet, sweet, Liebling. How long have you been craving someone to do this?” he whispers, darkly. His nose tracing your cheek as he inserts another finger. “A while I guess. I can tell. You’re so wet. So responsive. Look at me.”

And you do.

You meet his burning eyes with all you have. Not able to tear them away from him, unsure how you’ve let him command such power over you already.

“Is this enough? Or do you want more?”

Your mouth contorts, shapes and words want to blossom. Your mind rendering useless as you near your release.

Only able to mumble a mmm, wanting to say more.

Wanting to beg for his cock, wanting him to turn you over and fuck you until you forget your name.

And from the expression on his face, he can tell.

Zemo touching you with more precision, as though he has an end goal in mind, knowing he’s doing this to you.

You knowing no one else can do this to you. Hasn’t done so, as he said, in a while.

“For now, this is all you’ll have. Even if I want to fuck you on this sofa, on this floor. Even if I want you,” he continues, his free hand cupping your chin. “The wait is half the fun. Isn’t it?”

Your gasping, so close and he must know it from the sounds falling from your lips.

“I want those three, Liebling…”

Because even if you want it, even if you need it, you’re fighting him.

“So you need to let go now, before they’re back—your friends,” he adds, his eyes burning into you as you fight how good it feels. “Unless you want them to see you like this. Being a whore for me.”

“Fuck,” you groan. Swallowing his name. “Plea–please.”

Not wanting to think it, never mind mumble it. His name so close to the tip of your tongue.

His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing small circles as you clench your eyes shut. Your back arching, fingers digging into his side as he twists his fingers inside of you, hitting that spot you’ve been internally pleading for him to touch.

“You should give me the first one now, Liebling.”

And you do.

Your eyes shutting, your head swirling with pleasure. Your back arching into him, your moan filling the room as he continues his ministrations until your hand tries to push him away.

But, he only stops when your hand unclenches from his side, and then his hand falls from between your thighs. Pressing a pleased, chaste kiss to your lips as your eyes slowly blink open as you watch him stand, shaking his coat from his shoulders before folding it slowly.

Your eyes falling to his bulge, before studying his movements as he places the coat down. Adjusting himself as he licks his lips.

And then he pulls you up, catching you as you almost fall on shaky legs. Barely recovered from what he’s just done to you.

“Two to go, Liebling.” Your chest rises and falls, heat blossoming across your cheeks. His knuckles brushing your cheeks. “Now, go to my room, and strip.”

Clearing your throat, you suddenly find your voice again. Brain coming back to you. “And if I don’t?”

Helmut slowly retracts his hand, before pulling you flush against him by your hips, nose against your ear.

Feeling how hard he is. How much he wants you.

Ignoring the little quake in your legs even with him holding you.

He pushes your hair from your cheek, smiling as if he hadn’t of just made you see stars. “I’ll strip you here myself, and let your friends find you cock-drunk and spent on this expensive, but dusty floor.”

His hand retracting, burning his brown eyes into you as he smirks.

“You’ve got until the count of th—“

You move.

Your fingers are undoing your zip, hearing him chuckle—hearing his footsteps. Knowing he’s following close behind—heart in your throat, excitement bubbling in your stomach.

Opening his door, stepping through as you pull clothes from your body until cool air meets your skin. Turning to face him, eyes drinking you in.

And you’ve never felt hotter, never felt more attractive.

And then he slams the door shut behind him, his hands on you once again.

#Helmut Zemo #Helmut Zemo x reader #Helmut Zemo smut #baron zemo smut #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader smut #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x fem!reader #zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #zemo x fem!reader #zemo x you #zemo x y/n #daniel brühl x reader

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justsomerandomfanfic · 1 year

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Never Gonna Give You Up - Helmut Zemo X Female Reader

Title: Never Gonna Give You Up

Helmut Zemo X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Bucky, Sam, Sharon (Mentioned), Steve (Mentioned), Helmut's Family (Mentioned), and other TFATWS characters (Mentioned)

Requested by @futuristicyouthvoid! (Thank you for requesting!!!)

WC: 932 (sorry if it's a bit short)

Warnings: Agent Reader, follows plot sort of, Zemo loves to dance, slight Bucky X Sam, anxiety, nervousness, german nicknames (my darling), mentions Helmut's loss of family and home, baby angst, and fluff

You entered the club of vibing people, dancing to upbeat house music. The lights were low in the nightclub, but you could tell that it was packed as all clubs tend to be. You weaved past dancers, and to the bar where you spotted Bucky and Sam, they were staring off at the dancing, as you made your way to stand beside them.

"Why'd you call me here?" You called out to Sam loudly over the music, "You know how expensive Madripoor tickets are? This better be something important because that was an eighteen-hour plane ride."

Sam shrugged, "I'll pay you back," He said. "And try to be quiet, will you? Don't want our cover blown."

You rolled your eyes, "What cover? Will you tell me why you so desperately wanted me here for then?" You asked, glancing at Bucky as he continued to stare down at the dancers.

"We're trying to find out who has been recreating the Super Soldier serum," Sam spoke in your ear, before leaning away.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "That doesn't explain the club?"

"It's Sharon's. She's helping." He answered and your jaw dropped slightly.

"Sharon? Steve's old fling? Jesus." You muttered under your breath and Bucky turned his head towards you.

"She's going to help us with intel on Nagel." He spoke, before turning back to the dancers. You furrowed your eyebrows once more, turning to Sam.

"Why is Buck staring at the dance floor? If he so desperately wants a dance partner... Why aren’t you two dancing?" You asked Sam, gesturing between him and Bucky.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Bucky doesn't want to dance. He's watching Zemo, so he doesn't get any ideas."

At his words, your eyes widened. Zemo? Your Zemo? Was here? You hadn't seen him since before the snap. You had visited him on multiple occasions before, but that was for SHIELD business. You had to interrogate the man, and it didn't help that Helmut was gorgeous. You didn't know it then but somehow you were able to melt his frozen heart, and that was saying something. Helmut had lost so much... His home, his family... He was distant towards you for so long. But, slowly, gradually, Helmut warmed up to you, and for the first time in years... He felt loved again.

And here you were, in a club, eyes wide as you stared at your Helmut from across the dance floor. He was dancing, rather... Adorably. You would've laughed if you weren't in so much shock. Sam stared at you, before placing a hand on your shoulder.

"You know him?" He asked and you ignored the man, rushing to maneuver and weave past dancers, desperate to get to Helmut as fast as you could.

Standing behind him as he fist-bumped the air, you let out a sigh. Slowly, with your bated breath, Zemo turned around and paused when his eyes locked with yours. You stared at one another, the loud music slipping away into nothingness as the world disappeared into only the two of you. Your gaze softened as you stared at Helmut, as did his. The two of you smiled, almost shyly as you gazed at each other.

Then, suddenly, Helmut was pulling you into his arms and into a deep kiss. The kiss felt like a dam had burst inside of you. You couldn't stop yourself anymore, wrapping both arms around Helmut's neck, clinging onto him desperately. Your fingers curled into his expensive shirt, tugging lightly on it as you kissed him passionately. Helmut pulled away after a moment, resting his forehead against yours as you both breathed heavily. You rested your hands on his chest, holding him tightly. You both looked at one another with soft smiles, before Helmut placed a small peck on your lips and stepped away. His cheeks reddened under the dim lights of the club, but his smile remained plastered on his face.

"Helmut... How did you get out?" You whispered gently, grabbing his hand to pull him closer.

He glanced away briefly, before looking back down at you. "James let me out."

"Bucky... Bucky let you out?" You asked skeptically, not believing this. Helmut nodded. You opened your mouth to speak but stopped yourself as Helmut spoke up.

"Not that I’m not elated to see you, my love, but why are you here?" He asked, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to him, as the two of you swayed together on the dance floor.

"Sam called me." You mumbled into his shoulder, your grip tightening around him. He held you tighter. He knew you needed this. "He said he and Bucky needed help."

"Well," Helmut began, his hand running through your locks, "I am happy you're here. It's been a long time, meine Schatz."

You leaned away just enough to look him in the eye, "It has... And I am not letting them take you away from me again." You spoke determinedly.

His eyes flickered downwards, before looking back into your own eyes. "I know, my Schatz. I shall hope you never leave my side as well."

"I never could, Hel.” You muttered. "Now what trouble have they gotten you into?" You asked playfully as Helmut only smirked lightly, rolling his eyes. as he began to explain everything, you simply stared up at him, listening to his soft voice, hypnotic accent, and all, while holding the man you loved in your arms. You weren't going to let anyone take him away again, that was for sure. And if they tried, you would fight them tooth and nail. For Helmut.

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morguevampire · 1 year

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(Un) Fortunate Encounters - Chapter 4

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Masterlist for this fic

summary: With your body needing rest you fall into a sort of routine at the Baron's mansion. Which doesn't mean you trust him. It's mostly a back and forth between the two of you.

warnings/tags: fluff, smut, angst, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of torture, drinking, mild alcoholism, dark themes, slow build romance, not really Stockholm syndrome but that’s up for interpretation

chapter: 4/?

word count: 2.121k

pairings: Helmut Zemo x fem!Reader

author’s note: Hey yo,

there ya go. Chapter 4!

Honestly not sure about this chapter but let's just blame it on uni being stressful and my brain being fried. I really tried my best, going over it a few times but at last I figured I'd post it because I was afraid that if I didn't keep up the regular updates I would just abandon this story.

Let me know what you think! I promise to do better for the next one! Comments, kudos etc. are welcome, as well as feedback :)

Adios

You can also find this work on https://archiveofourown.org/works/43158162/chapters/108965257

It’s almost midday when you wake up the next morning. Your exhaustion completely took over you and you find yourself surprised at having slept soundly through the night. It takes you another good hour of contemplating your life and the current situation until you finally crawl out of the comfort of the warm bed and into the bathroom to freshen up.

Your dreamless slumber and general fatigue didn’t necessarily leave you with much capacity to mull over whether you wanted to accept the invitation of staying with a murderer or strike out on your own and most likely get killed by other murderers but really, perhaps unconsciously you had already made up your mind.

As you head down the stairs towards the living room you find the house quiet and unoccupied. You decide to explore the space, perhaps finding Zemo in the dining room or wherever all the other paths of the mansion led to.

Carefully, almost as if you were an intruder you make your way through the dining room, where just the evening before you had dinner with a god forsaken terrorist. Another door leads into the modern kitchen, fully equipped with appliances you could only afford to dream of and a big island with stools on one side. One wall was lined with full glass, overlooking a lush forest which made you conclude that the house was most likely in the middle of nowhere. You stand in front of the windows, memorized by the scenery when Oeznik quietly enters the room, startling you as he interrupts your daydreaming.

“Would you like a cup of coffee, Miss Y/N?”

You accept eagerly, realizing you haven’t had your coffee fix in almost three days. Oeznik informs you that the Baron was out on an errand. He disappears shortly after handing you your cup and you decide to sit down in the living room once again, staring out of the windows there or roaming through the shelves of books while enjoying your freshly brewed coffee.

You were almost finished when you heard the front door open and close, expecting the Baron to appear shortly after.

“Good morning. I thought I’d get some of your belongings from your apartment so you’d feel more comfortable.”

You stare at the two duffle bags that he hauled onto the couch.

“So, you just assumed I would stay?”

“Aren’t you?”

His condescending tone once again annoying you,´; you challenge him, even though he is right. His whole demeanor oozes arrogance and a know-all attitude which pisses you off, not just on him but on humans in general.

You’re almost too proud to answer him, his face once again wearing a slight smirk.

Most likely with too much force and looking clumsier than you intended it to be, you snatch the two duffle bags and simply mumble a hasty “thanks” before storming off towards your room once again, leaving the Baron to huff out a quiet laugh at your temperament.

In your room you go through the duffle bags. They’re filled to the brim with clothes, surprisingly a lot of your favorites. Toiletries are also neatly packed, which makes you cringe a bit at the thought of this man going through your bathroom. You’re sort of at a loss when you discover your nowadays not so stuffed little plush duck in there. It’s a little greyish thing, used to be white but that was a long time ago, its head not really upright anymore. It’s usually hosted on your bed and you haven’t stopped sleeping with it since you were about five years old. You were oddly sentimental over this thing, holding it in your arms now. It gave you a sort of safety to know you had it with you.

You sort through the rest of the stuff, happy with having a bit of your life back but also unsure as the amount gave you a feeling you’d be staying for longer than you initially hoped.

The only thing that’s really missing in the bags is your phone, or your notebook. You suppose it’s because of the very obvious reason that technical devices would mean communications to the police or the outside world which most likely don’t overlap with the Baron’s plans for you. It still makes you frustrated.

Once you descend the stairs again you find the man who just an hour ago went through your private belongings sitting on the kitchen island, a laptop in front of him.

“I want my phone.”

He looks at you somewhat surprised that you would even dare to ask such a stupid question.

“Not possible.” He scoffs. “At least for now.”

You roll your eyes, once again annoyed and already regretting your decision to even come down here.

When you inquire about the duration of your more or less forced stay, or the progress in his strategy to get his enemies off your back he gives you cryptic, monotone answers. None the wiser and feeling defeated you sit down on one of the high barstools furthest away from him. Once again absently staring out of the window. Out of the corner of your eye you see him shuffling around the kitchen but you completely zoom out and don’t really take in anything he’s saying until a plate with food on it is placed in front of you.

“You should eat.” Is all he says before picking up his laptop, leaving you alone once more.

********

A few uneventful days fly by. In a weird, twisted sort of way your life found a routine. With your body still being in the healing process you spent most of your days sleeping, or dozing in your room. You couldn’t remember the last time in your life you actually had the time to just do nothing. No distractions, no guilty feelings about being unproductive. Even if you wanted to, there was nothing to do. The times you did wander downstairs to pass over the time, you usually found yourself drawn to the book shelves in the living room. Browsing through the titles and mostly being too afraid to touch vintage looking ones.

You were never a crazy reader, but you did go through your phases and always wished for more time for the activity. Often work or general adult-duties kept you from it and the forced technology detox helped you appreciate books more.

The Baron wasn’t around too much. Usually in the morning or rather midday Oeznik would offer coffee and breakfast to you and quickly disappeared out of sight once you sat down on the kitchen counter, staring out at the woods. You’d encounter Zemo randomly throughout the day, never saying too much and mostly trying to be out of his way as much as possible. Your trust in him was still uncertain and he didn’t seem to try to make much of an effort in gaining it. The only consonant was your shared dinner, usually something hearty, the two of you on the large dining table. It felt awkward, the only conversation usually being him checking up on your general wellbeing and health condition.

He’d always seem so unbothered by the tension in the room, while you were constantly in flight mode. Even though he had more or less shown you hospitality, always been polite and tried to stay out of your business, he still made you uncomfortable. He seemed so sure of everything, his position, your position while not really giving you any answers to your questions, yet still underneath concerned about you. You couldn’t figure him out.

You were relieved once these dinners would end and you could go curl up in bed once again – just to have a deep dreamless sleep.

It surprised you how easy sleep came to you, considering you were usually an overthinker with insomniac tendencies whenever your mind was occupied with personal struggles.

You should have seen it coming, there was only so many hours of rest your injured body would need before your unconscious mind decided to plague you with nightmares.

It comes on the fourth night at the mansion.

You jolt up chocking. Your lungs desperately grasping for air. It takes you a moment to realize where you are. The room, your room. Your head isn’t underwater. You aren’t back in the warehouse. You’re safe now, he said.

You drag your forearm across the top of your head, realizing just how much you sweated. Still not fully awake and back to reality you slump back down, breathing hard and trying to control your emotions. You’ve been rescued, your wounds are healing, the bruises are fading, you’re safe. But you’re also still locked up. Forced to stay in a safe house of a man who killed innocent lives.

You toss and turn for an hour or so, slipping in and out of consciousness, that feeling of fear, torture and pain always coming back. The clock on the little bedside table reads 3:38 a.m. when you decide to give up. You wouldn’t fall back asleep anytime soon and the room suddenly feels too claustrophobic, the chocking feeling in your throat becoming more intense as the minutes tick by.

You decide to head downstairs into the living area, selecting the book you started to read days prior. Only it didn’t quite manage to distract you from the night’s terrors.

Curled up under a cashmere blanket on the big leather couch your body was still tense and you couldn’t concentrate on any of the words in the book. You don’t know how much time has passed when a low voice interrupts your blank staring at the letters.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

The Baron entered, a steaming cup of tea in his hand, heading towards you.

You only shake your head, feeling uncomfortable in being called out.

He doesn’t ask you, just holds the steaming cup of what you smelled to be chamomile tea in front of you. Hesitantly you take it from him, not trusting his intentions.

It seems as if he’s giving you space to talk on your own, even though he sits down right next to you, close enough to make your body tense up again.

After a few sips in heavy silence you slowly begin to speak.

“Why are you up?”

He was still dressed in his street wear. Black trousers and a gray knitted sweater.

“Insomnia.” He answers with a shrug, turning his head to look in your direction, focusing his brown eyes on you and pursing his lips before he continues. “Let me guess… nightmares?”

You nod.

“It’s the natural reaction of your brain and body to all the horrors you’ve experienced in the past week.”

A nod again, this time faintly annoyed at his smart talking and prying into your personal matters.

“I am sorry for your pain. This might not help, but I do empathize with what you’re going through. I have had my fair share of nightmares and PTSD.”

“We’re not the same.”

You mumble and break eye contact, not being able to take his soft, pitying look anymore. You don’t want his empathy and you certainly don’t want to empathize with him. If he wants to open up about his past or his struggles he should see a therapist, not load it onto the woman he kidnapped.

You fumble around with the handle of the tea cup for a bit, wishing to just be on your own again.

“What are you reading?”

You show him the cover of the book. Walden by Henry David Thoreau.

“Can’t really concentrate on the words though.”

“Would you like me to read to you?”

You most likely don’t hide your surprise well but he only chuckles and motions for you to had him the book, still lying open in your lab. You do and not soon after find yourself half lain down on your spot, feet curled up and eyes fluttering shut as Zemo’s low, accented voice carried you into a solidary life in the woods.

You’re not sure at what point you fell asleep but as you drift in and out of a calm slumber his voice is always there, a consonant that your unconsciousness latches onto for distraction. A guide into a numb sleep.

********

You awake in your bed the next morning. Hazily trying to remember if you’ve only dreamed of the Baron reading to you and trying to figure out how you ended up in your room. It must have really happened as you faintly remember being pulled out of sleep for a second as he lifted you in his arm and carried you upstairs, brushing the hair out of your face softly, before leaving your room, letting your tired mind rest.

And you felt safe. And cared for.

#helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo fanfiction #zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo/reader #Helmut Zemo x Fem!Reader #Zemo #Helmut Zemo #Baron Zemo #TFAWS #MCU

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deceitfuldevout · 1 year

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Deceitfuldevout's Marvel Masterlist:

❤️ = Fluff

🔞 = Spicy/Nsfw

🖤 = Dark

❌ = No warnings/Sfw

One-Shots:

An Eye for an Eye - Dark!Helmut Zemo x Sheild!Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/704581646926626816/an-eye-for-an-eye?source=share

Sold - Dark!Suagrdaddy!Baron Zemo x SugarBaby!Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/704641875247874048/sold?source=share

Trust - Dark!Stucky x Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/704649373631528960/trust?source=share

Red Daughter - Dark!Steve Rogers x ExHydra!Reader x Dark!Bucky Barnes: 🔞🖤 https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/704649377217724416/red-daughter?source=share

Sleeping Beauty - Dark!Husband!Steve Rogers x Wife!Reader x Dark!Bucky Barnes: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/704649380328882176/sleeping-beauty?source=share

The Passenger - Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/704662523144765440/the-passenger?source=share

Smile - Dark!MidnightSons x Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/716976143318876160/smile?source=share

Ruining America's Sweetheart - Dark!Steve Rogers x Sidekick!Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/726011254129524736/americas-sweetheart?source=share

Series:

Brooklyn Baby - Dark!Billy Russo x Rawlins!Reader: 🔞❤️🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/728281624940331008/brooklyn-baby-masterlist?source=share

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shesthejukeboxhero · 1 year

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ELAYNA’S WRITE LIST:

MARVEL:

STEVE ROGERS

HELMUT ZEMO

KRASINSKI!REED RICHARDS

JACK THOMPSON

STRANGER THINGS:

BILLY HARGROVE

JASON CARVER

STEVE HARRINGTON

KNIVES OUT/GLASS ONION:

RANSOM DRYSDALE

MILES BRON

GREYS ANATOMY:

MARK SLOAN

TOM KORACICK

DIVERGENT:

ERIC COULTER

THE HUNGER GAMES:

FINNICK ODAIR

DAISY JONES AND THE SIX:

BILLY DUNNE

THE OFFICE:

JIM HALPERT

ROCK OF AGES:

STACEE JAXX

THE BOYS:

SOLDIER BOY

HOMELANDER

SHAMELESS:

CARL GALLAGHER

MORTAL KOMBAT:

JOHNNY CAGE (MK11 both versions & MK1)

KURTIS STRYKER

**ALL WORKS ARE X FEM OR X GN READER**

**MOSTLY ONESHOTS, WILL BE INDICATED IF A SERIES**

#helmut zemo x reader #steve rogers x reader #krasinski!reed richards x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x reader #jason carver x reader #steve harrington x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #miles bron x reader #mark sloan x reader #tom koracick x reader #eric coulter x reader #jim halpert x reader #jack thompson x reader #soldier boy x reader #homelander x reader #finnick odair x reader #billy dunne x reader #carl gallagher x reader

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waywardxrhea · 3 months

Text

Jealousy: a Bucky Barnes one-shot

pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 3k

You are working with Bucky, Sam, and Zemo to get intel on the Power Broker when the night takes an unexpected turn...

content warnings: minors DNI (18+) - smut (semi-public, oral - male receiving, fingering), PWP, jealousy, groping, drinking, language, name calling (slut - not by Bucky), some violence.

“You can come out now,” Helmut Zemo called to you through the bathroom door of his private jet you were currently holed up in after getting ready for an evening of espionage.

“I feel weird…” you muttered, looking at yourself in the mirror.

Sam, Bucky, Zemo, and you were getting ready for an intel gathering mission and this time it was your turn to gather intel. Why that meant you had to have your tits nearly falling out of the dress Zemo picked out, you didn’t know, but you were so close to getting the break you needed you would do nearly anything to get answers.

“Everyone feels weird at these things. The dresses are uncomfortable but when you’re somewhere looking at art you need to look like art yourself,” he told you.

“Fine,” you sighed, giving yourself one more once over as the plane started to descend.

On anyone else you would have said the dress was gorgeous. It flowed like a river when you walked, it was sparkly enough to be seen from space, and the combination of the low cut neckline and the slit in the leg was enough to make the devil himself blush. It just wasn’t you. Ever since you became an agent for SHIELD, the CIA, and now freelancing with this band of misfits, you’d grown accustomed to wearing pants and tactical gear and in your downtime it was leggings and chunky sweaters. Nothing even the slightest bit revealing.

So when you exited the bathroom you couldn’t help the blush that creeped up your neck as Sam gave a low whistle from where he stood in his steel blue pressed tux, saying, “Man you’re looking good!”

“Can it,” you told him, rolling your eyes and shoving your hands into the pockets of the dress. That part at least Zemo took your advice on when designing the dress which you guessed you were grateful for…

“I told you you’d look beautiful,” Zemo said. “A thank you would be nice.”

“Thank you,” you told him with a sarcastic smile, turning away and rolling your eyes.

As you turned away, Bucky emerged into the main area of the plane, adjusting his tie and giving you a once over. “I think you’ve made him speechless,” Sam said teasingly, nudging Bucky in the ribs after he didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

Sam had always teased the two of you because he knew you liked Bucky but you’d just never made a move. He’s got bigger things to worry about than me, you’d always told yourself. Besides, he’s on those dating apps and all, so that’s proof he isn’t interested, not in you...

“No time for puppy eyes, we’re here,” Zemo said as the plane touched down. “Does everyone remember the plan?”

“Yes,” you replied. “I go in first and blend in for a while. Admire the art, catch the attention of the target, chat him up for a bit. Once I get what we need on the Power Broker I’ll excuse myself to the restroom and we make a break for it.”

“Correct,” he told you with a nod.

“The three of us will go in separately and pretend to look at the art while making sure things don’t go sideways,” Sam added.

“Right again. What is the code word for if you become compromised?”

“Champagne,” you told him instantly. Now this was the stuff you were built for.

“Are we ready?” Zemo asked as the group approached the door to the jet.

“As I’ll ever be,” you said, making your way to the door and carefully picking your way down the steps to head into the party.

“Don’t strut or anything,” Sam told you teasingly as he watched you feign confidence on your way in.

“Shut up, I don’t strut,” you snapped.

“You do tend to strut when you’re in heels,” Zemo said.

“Okay let’s not focus on my walk you guys!” you said before approaching the door to the art show.

“Here, let me get that for you ma’am,” a suited man said, opening the door for you with a smile and a wink.

You gave him a smug raise of your eyebrows in return as you walked through the door, narrowly missing the hand that was outstretched, no doubt trying to cop a feel. “I feel gross…” you mumbled as you walked further in, grabbing a glass of champagne from a tray nearby.

While looking around, something caught your eye so you made my way to an art piece that you had only ever seen in textbooks. It was beautiful… A man slid up next to you to admire the piece as well, and casually asked, “You like it? It’s one of a kind.”

“It’s wonderful, I didn’t know this piece was even on the market!” you said, wonder in your eyes over the art in front of you.

“Maybe it could be yours if you give me something in exchange,” the man said suggestively, making you throw up a little in your mouth.

You turned to see who the man was and saw that it was the target. Like some miracle he had walked up to you, but you weren’t about to take it for granted. So as much as it pained you to do it, you reached over to his arm and brushed your fingers over it and asked in your most innocently seductive voice, “And what may that be?”

“All right we’re all in, if this guy goes too far, say something and we’ll come get you,” Sam told you through the earpiece as he casually made his way over to the nearby bar.

While he said this, you and the man made your way over to the VIP area where you two sat down on a couch and were served drinks of your choice. He glanced down at your breasts quickly before asking, “So what’s your name darlin? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

You giggled and put on the charm as you walked two fingers up his chest, telling him, “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

“That I would,” he replied, placing a hand on the bare portion of your thigh. He snaked his other arm around your back and rested his hand on your ass, pulling you close. “A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t have to attend these events alone.”

“Play your cards right and I could be your plus one from now on…” you told him, the corners of your lips turning up in a small smile.

The next half hour felt like forever as you pushed for more drinks for your pleasant company and innocently sweet talked your way into the answers you needed. When you felt like you had enough intel to make our next move, you sweetly told him, “I’m so sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me, I need to go to the girls’ room. These drinks went right through me!”

“I’ll be here when you get back sweetheart,” he told you with a smile as you got up, grabbing your ass once more when you stood.

As you turned the corner to make it seem convincing that you were actually looking for the restroom, you suddenly felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you toward them. You just about took them out before realizing that it was just Bucky. “What the hell, Buck?” you asked, taken aback.

He put his finger to his ear, turning off his coms before whispering sharply, “Why’d you let him touch you like that?”

“W-what?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing.

“We’re getting out of here, you two need to get out before we’re compromised,” Zemo told you over the coms.

“Be there in a minute,” you told him before turning your own off, following Bucky’s actions. Getting back to his question, you said, “I did what I had to do to get answers. Why do you care?”

“Because no one should be touching you like that,” he replied, looking deep into your eyes.

You laughed a bit before asking sarcastically, “Oh yeah because it should be you right?”

What happened next shocked you to the core. Because Bucky, the man who had stolen your heart, said, “Yes,” before crashing his lips down onto yours, pinning you against the wall hard. A million thoughts ran through your mind and your head spun as you tried to process what was happening all while sinking into his soft lips.

“Bucky…” you whispered between kisses as he held you close. Never breaking the makeout session, he felt around for any door handle he could find before pulling you into whatever room it revealed.

Once the pair of you were in the room, he hiked you up onto the counter before resting his forehead on yours, saying, “It killed me seeing that bastard touching you like that. I wanted it to be me.”

With your senses finally kicked in after the shock of the kiss, you shook your head and whispered, “You don’t mean that. You’re just saying that because of how I look right now. If we were back at the hotel and I was in my leggings and sweater you’d just look the other way…”

“No,” he said as he looked deep into your eyes, pulling away and taking your hand in his. “This is something that’s been on my mind for a while, but I never had the courage to say it until now. I thought I could push away my feelings in order to not compromise our friendship and partnership but… I wanted to kill that guy for touching you like that.”

You opened your mouth to say something in response, but nothing came out. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into another kiss. When you got back to it, your hands wandered each other's bodies desperately, Bucky’s metal hand slipping under your dress to cup your breast and mess with your sensitive nipple. You gasped at the cool touch and he took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

As you ran one hand through his hair, he slowly slid his right hand down to your thighs, not moving any further than there without permission. Not even caring how dirty it made you feel to do so, at the touch you spread your legs for him and pulled away for a moment to whisper, “Please touch me…”

“As you wish,” he whispered, taking no time at all to begin toying with your swollen clit. He nipped at your earlobe before mumbling, “God you’re so wet.”

“That’s because you drive me crazy,” you admitted. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this…”

“Oh yeah?” he asked while gently pushing two fingers in and feeling around for that special spot inside.

“Oh God yes,” you whimpered, your head rolling back as he found what he was looking for. No one had touched you like this in so long and it just felt so good and so…right with it being him.

He added his thumb to the mix, rubbing your clit while his fingers worked their magic and you had to bite your knuckle to keep from screaming, it felt so good. Seeing your reaction, Bucky smirked and started kissing your neck, telling you between kisses, “I guess we shoulda talked about it because I’ve been dreaming of this for a while. First chance I get after tonight, I’m fuckin’ you into oblivion, doll.”

Those words were all it took to bring you impossibly closer to the edge. The idea of Bucky doing unspeakable things to you made everything that much better and you could feel yourself shaking as you approached your high. “Bucky…” you whispered shakily.

Bucky stood there just admiring you as he picked up the pace of his fingers inside your sensitive cunt. He gave you a sideways smile before whispering, “God, just look at you. You’re so beautiful. Those little gasps and whimpers all for me? That’s enough to make me wanna go all night,” he said, making you even weaker in the knees. Your head rolled back and your breathing started to become uneven as he worked his magic inside, the pace somehow getting more vigorous the closer he brought you to release. The smirk was audible in his voice as he added, “Come on doll, I can tell you’re close, just cum for me.”

And just like that with a few more strokes of his fingers you were experiencing the most intense orgasm you had in years. “Oh my God, fuck…” you moaned before he captured your lips on his own once more while you rode it out on his fingers which continued to pump in and out lazily as you clenched around them.

“I think I can get used to that sound,” he told you with a smile once he pulled back from your kiss.

You couldn’t help the school-girl-like giggle that escaped your lips before you got serious again, kissing him after jumping off the countertop. You spun the two of you around and pinned him to the counter this time, your fingers trailing their way down to his belt and messing with the buckle waiting for permission. “You don’t gotta do anything for me right now, the others are waiting. I’m sure they’re getting worried,” he told you.

“I think for once you need to put yourself before others,” you whispered, ghosting your fingers over the prominent tent in his slacks.

He chuckled before giving in, saying, “Make it quick.”

“Oh trust me I can do that,” you told him with a wink before undoing his belt buckle and letting his slacks fall to his ankles. You toyed with the waistband of his underwear for a moment before pulling them down as you sank onto your knees in front of him.

As you kissed the swollen tip of his penis he sucked in air through his teeth, telling you, “Don’t be a tease.” You giggled and ran one finger on the underside of his cock, the vein pulsing beneath your touch, and that had him like putty in your hands and asking, “Please?”

With that final almost whimper of a please from the man standing above you, you took his impressive length in your mouth. You got as far back as you could before beginning to bob your head, his right hand gently resting in your hair to guide you while his left had a death grip on the counter behind him.

When you hollowed out your cheeks, Bucky’s knees almost buckled and he tightened his grip on your hair. At this you pulled back and teased his head with your tongue before going back in. The way his breath hitched in his throat and the way he started moving his hips showed he was losing the restraint he had on himself meaning that he was close, so you used your hand to work what you couldn’t with your mouth and that’s exactly when he lost it.

He had never felt anything like the feeling he was experiencing right now as he gently thrust his hips forward, relishing in the feeling of pure pleasure he was getting from your mouth. “Fuckin’ hell!” he groaned as he came to his high, his warm release filling your mouth while his grip on the counter tightened, his metal hand breaking the marble in the process.

Coming back up to eye level with him after he finished, you smirked before telling him, “Quiet down Sergeant, you don’t want anyone to catch us, do you?”

“Oh next time you’ll be regretting that, doll,” he growled playfully before pulling his clothes back up while you fixed your makeup with what you brought in your pockets. As you fixed your hair too, he looked at you in the mirror and said, “Really though, that was nice. Something I’ve been wanting for a while.”

“Me too,” you replied, kissing him tenderly once you looked presentable again.

After you and Bucky got yourselves calmed down from all the excitement you headed back out to the party so you could go back to the jet. As Bucky adjusted his belt while the pair of you exited the room, you noticed the man from earlier was standing down the hall talking with someone. He seemed to notice Bucky adjusting his belt and that goofy smile on his face so he rolled his eyes and shoved past you, muttering, “Slut.”

“What did you just call her?” Bucky asked, sudden white hot rage filling his whole body.

“I called her what she is, a slut!” the man spat loudly.

And that was all it took for Bucky to wind back and punch the man in the face, taking care to use his metal arm to do so. Once the man was on the ground, Bucky took the man’s collar in his hand, yanking him up and growling, “Don’t you ever talk about a woman like that again. Got it?”

“Got it!” the man whimpered as Bucky threw him back down on the ground.

With that settled, you two left the party and got back to the jet, walking hand in hand. Sam took one look at you and told Zemo, “You owe me twenty bucks.”

“We don’t know that!” Zemo retorted defensively.

“Oh don’t we now?” Sam asked with a laugh. He turned his attention to the pair of you and asked, “Did you or did you not go MIA so you could have sex?”

“I- What- We-” you tried to say, stumbling over your words as your face heated up.

Bucky rolled his eyes and chuckled before saying, “Whichever one bet that we had sex lost.”

“I told you!” Zemo shouted victoriously.

“But did you at least do something?” Sam asked, fishing in his wallet for a twenty.

“That’s for us to know and you to not find out,” Bucky replied, kissing your knuckles before leading you to a seat on the plane where you could rest your feet for the flight. As you sat down and relaxed into Bucky’s strong embrace, you had a feeling that tonight was the first of many pleasurable nights to come.

a/n: so this is my first one shot on tumblr! I wrote this one night when I just couldn't get Bucky out of my head, I hope y'all enjoy!

and if you don't follow me or know my account, feel free to check out my Steve Rogers long fic here!

#bucky barnes x reader #smut #marvel #bucky barnes #oneshot

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scoonsalicious · 2 months

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Unwanted: Chapter 2, Unspeakable - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of alcohol, longing looks/touches, this part's mostly fluff, ngl.

Word Count: 1.1k

Previously On...: And from that night, you and Bucky became best friends. Because there are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and the stuff of your nightmares was one of them.

A/N: I thought the Harry Potter quote was appropriate to bastardize for the Previously On... Don't come for me, lol

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21

From that night on, Bucky found every excuse he could to touch you. It was as though, after so many years of nothing but cold cruelty, he had become addicted to the warmth and softness of your skin. You didn't mind in the least; you liked the way he wrapped his arm around your stomach and rested his chin in the crook of your shoulder when he came up behind you, or the way he pulled your hand onto his thigh and traced the lines of your palm with his index finger while you watched TV in the common room, side by side.

One afternoon, you were standing in front of a monitor in your lab, lost in thought as the numbers from your latest algorithm trial ran across the screen. So immersed were you in the data that you didn't notice the form coming up behind you until two hands grabbed you by the waist, lifting you up and spinning you.

Without thinking, your years of training kicked in, like flipping on a switch. You stomped down, hard, on the top of your assailant's foot with your heel, while simultaneously throwing your elbow back into their solar plexus. The attacker let out a low "Oof" and released their hold on you, giving you the opportunity to drop your weight low and spin on your toes to face them.

Bucky stood stooped before you, one hand clutching his abdomen where your elbow had made contact, the other hand held up in surrender. The other hand?

"Jesus Christ, Buck!" you panted. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"I was trying to surprise you, you hell beast," Bucky said, though he was smiling. Rubbing the tender spot of nerves you had so artfully disturbed, he asked "Where'd you learn to fight so dirty?"

"Krav Maga," you beamed, pleased that you'd managed to get a hit on a super soldier, even if Bucky hadn't been actually attacking you. "Care to tell me how you managed to end up with two fucking arms?"

Now it was Buck's turn to beam at you as he held out his new left arm for your perusal. You took the hand, inspecting it. Black metal gleamed in the light of your lab. You turned the arm over, admiring the craftsmanship. "This is a thing of beauty, Buck," you murmured, trailing your fingers along the gold veins that ran through the metal. Bucky involuntarily shivered at your touch. "You can feel that?" you asked him, awestruck. He nodded, his face awash in delight.

You leaned in to examine it more closely. If you didn't know any better, you'd say it was... But, no, it couldn't be– "Bucky," you said in astonishment, looking up to meet his eye, "is this vibranium?"

Bucky grinned from ear to ear, looking like a little boy who had gotten just what he'd asked for for Christmas. "It was a gift. From the Wakandans, for helping them capture Helmut Zemo." Bucky seemed almost shy at revealing why the Wakandans had gifted him the arm, as though he was still uncomfortable with being acknowledged for doing good instead of being blamed for committing evil.

"This..." you started, at a loss for words. "Bucky, this is amazing! The Wakandans are the most technologically advanced nation on the planet. This makes the arm I've been working on look like a fucking stick."

Bucky cocked his head and studied you as you studied the vibranium appendage. "You were making me an arm, doll?" he asked, throat choked on emotion.

You looked up at him, a blush of color rising to your cheeks. "Well, I was trying to. I wasn't going to say anything until I knew it would work; I didn't want to get your hopes up, but this... this is worlds better than anything I could have manufactured."

Bucky gently pulled his metal arm from your hand and used it to cup your cheek, instead. You leaned into the cool, hard metal. "That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me," he murmured. You gave him a soft smile.

"You're one of my best friends, and you deserve all the good things," you told him with a shrug of your shoulder. "Including two functioning arms."

Bucky pulled you into a hug and you returned his embrace, relishing in the feeling of being completely held by him. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Pocket," he said into the top of your head.

You pulled back to look up at him. "Well, hopefully, you'll never have to find out." You stayed like that for a few moments longer, neither of you willing to be the first to let go. "You know what," you said, eventually pulling away from him, "we should celebrate."

Bucky looked down at you with a glint in his eye. "Celebrate, huh? What should we do?"

"Anything you want," you told him, moving out of the cage of his arms. Arms. You still couldn't believe it. "It's your arm we're celebrating."

He studied you for a moment, and there was a look in his eyes you couldn't quite decipher. As the heat of Bucky's gaze lingered on you, a shiver ran down your spine. There was something different about the way he looked at you now, something that made your heart race and your palms grow sweaty. It was as if every fiber of his being was focused solely on you, his eyes tracing every contour of your face with an almost alarming intensity.

"Can we start those Hobbit movies?" he asked.

"That's how you want to celebrate?" you smiled up at him. "You're such a fucking nerd. Yeah, we can absolutely do that. Oh, shit--" you remembered. "It's Girls' Night tonight. It’s fine– I can skip it."

"No," said Bucky, and the look he'd been giving you had vanished, leaving you to wonder if you'd simply imagined it to begin with, "go to Girls' Night. I know how much you look forward to those."

"I said we'd celebrate, and I want to celebrate," you insisted. "I can bow out of Girls' Night early. I'll just pop in, have one glass of wine, and then I'll be all yours; they can manage without me for a night."

Bucky hit you with his devil-charming grin. "All mine?" he asked, a mischievous lilt to his voice.

Rolling your eyes, you playfully slapped at his chest. "You know what I mean, asshat."

"Another dollar in the jar," he tsked.

"Get the fuck out of here and let me get back to work," you said with a laugh, shooing him away. You followed him with your eyes as he made his way to the door. Right before he went through, he turned around and looked back over at you, giving you a parting smile before walking off.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky x y/n

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therenlover · 8 months

Text

Always For A Second (Usually At The Start) - A Helmut Zemo x Reader fic

"And when I imagine life when it's mine / I can try to picture faceless folk to love a thousand times / But always for a second, and usually at the start / You're in the image posing with a cradled beating heart" - Katie Gregson MacLeod, i'm worried it will always be you

Synopsis: Leaving Helmut for good had been the biggest, most final choice you'd ever had to make. Two years later, he's in your living room again. This time, though, things are different.

Tags: Explicit Smut (+18), Exes, Getting Back Together, Enemies to Lovers to Exes to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, Switch!Zemo, Oral (Fem Receiving), Service Top!Zemo, Aftercare, Bucky is Mentioned Too Much

Rating: E (+18) Minors DNI

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 8,600~

-------------

“I didn’t expect you to come crawling back so soon, schatz,”

The restaurant was crowded enough that nobody heard Helmut’s words, curt and cloying and so fucking familiar. Still, my face heated. It always would for him, no matter how much my common sense protested by body’s reactions. How dare he be so damn effective at getting under my skin?

Some over-expensive brown liquor sloshed against the rim of the glass in my hand as I lifted it less than gracefully from the table, dribbling down the edge of my mouth as I guided it to my lips and drank deeply. “For one, two years isn’t soon,” I started, swallowing. “Two, you’re the asshole who showed up in my apartment like a robber, which makes you the one who came crawling back. I was just nice enough to let you take me for a free meal to get you the hell out. Three,” I set the glass down sharply, “don’t call me that. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I still haven’t forgiven you,”

“Apologies,”

He didn’t mean it.

“Still, it’s too soon to expect any sort of kindness from you,” he continued, “If I recall correctly, you said you’d rather die than suffer through another night with me for the rest of eternity. I believe an eternity has yet to pass… and yet, here we are,”

His matter of fact tone left little up for debate, unless I wanted to reach for my fork and maim his smug face. Instead, I bit my tongue and swallowed another mouthful of whatever I was drinking.

For once I was glad to be surrounded by the kind of noisy, faceless jumble of humanity that usually made my skin crawl. F. Scott Fitzgerald was on to something with his theories on large crowds and intimacy; there was no better place for two war criminals to meet than the corner booth of a hazy restaurant, lounging and drinking, covered by the blanket of sweet anonymity. Anyone who glanced our way would see two normal human beings sharing a meal in peaceable silence, sharing sparse conversation between bites of this and that.

They would see lovers.

The thought left a lump in my throat.

Maybe I looked uncomfortable enough that they would presume, correctly, that we were ex-lovers. I wasn’t hopeful about it, though.

Helmut noticed, of course, but I knew he would. He had always had an almost supernatural sense for these things, like he could tune into my emotional radio on a frequency I didn’t even fully know myself. Enemy or ally or… otherwise, it was a constant to be seen through and picked apart like carrion. An appetizer for the fights to come. Thankfully, though, he chose to have mercy on me this time in a rare show of respect. Instead of wrapping his lips around another snide comment- even though I could tell it was burning a bitter hole into the tip of his tongue behind his clenched teeth- he chose to pick up a ring of calamari from the plate between us. He held it up to examine the crust in the dim lamplight before placing it delicately against his lips, pulling it from the fork in one bite. Still, he couldn’t be too gracious. Helmut held eye contact as he went.

I could only managed a disgusted sigh but found myself mirrored as his teeth sunk into the squid and his brow furrowed.

“Bad?” I asked.

He chewed for a good while before managing to swallow the offending clump down, gagging all the way. “Despite my recent diet, that might be the worst thing I’ve eaten in a long while,”

A laugh escaped me before I even knew it was there. “You managed to pick a restaurant where our appetizer is worse than prison food? Serves you right for ordering seafood in the midwest,”

“I suppose it does.” He nudged the plate towards me with a growing smirk, “See for yourself. I’d hate to see it wasted, and as you said, it is ours. I can’t be expected to finish it alone,”

As if under the spell of his charisma all over again, I followed his instructions without a second thought. It was just as bad as I anticipated.

Things were off to a bad start from the moment the tines of my fork hit the batter. The breading seemed to squelch under the pressure, sagging and giving way into meat that was somehow both rubbery and gelatinous, if that was even possible, and if the texture seemed bad outside of my mouth it was even worse inside. Somewhere between its fishy tang and the overly salted batter, there was a bitter, almost sour note that seemed to permeate further with every chew. I spit the macerated glob into my napkin before even attempting to swallow down the remaining spit.

Across the table, Zemo grinned at my misfortune. “Let’s hope our entrees are less offensive to our palettes,”

“Fuck off,” I muttered, lips turning up at the edges.

“You can curse all you want at my poor choice of venue, but I can tell you’re glad you’re the one who ordered the pasta instead of the steak,”

I went for my glass again, letting the liquor with a name I couldn’t pronounce burn all the way down my throat and into my chest. “I hate that you’re always right, Helmut. Can’t you be wrong, just once? Leave some correctness for the rest of us,”

Maybe it was the lighting, soft and amber against the dark wood of the table to mask the bloody steaks that would sit below, or maybe it was the music, something old and swinging that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but knew from the radio in my grandmother’s car as a child, or maybe, just maybe, it was the crows feet that popped up around Helmut’s eyes when he smiled that hadn’t been quite so prominent the last time I’d seen him, but no matter the cause, the solid iron wall I had put up around my heart when I walked out of the Baron’s life those two year sago seemed to soften. Weakened, somehow. It was like someone took a blowtorch right to the center of my defenses. Something in me screamed that they had never been all that strong to begin with.

I only noticed I’d been staring when he looked away, clearing his throat and wiping his thin mouth with the napkin from his lap.

There went my hand. Helmut, 1. Me, 0… Well, 1, if leaving him those years ago counted for anything, and I refused to believe that it hadn’t. That the blow to his ego hadn’t given me at least a slight upper hand compared to the naive girl I had been in comparison when I first met him. There had been so much good in the world then.

The silence dragged on as if the structural flaws of my guarded heart could patch themselves up with the defenses created from just a few silent moments between us. That’s all it would take for me to remember all the reasons this would never work: all the pain, the sleepless nights, the snide comments that turned into biting replies that grew into massive, earth-shattering fights that exploded into days or weeks or months living alone in a house with him. One by one, the memories flooded back, reminding me exactly why it had taken me almost two years to find enough peace within myself that I wouldn’t decide to shoot the man in front of me on sight. My heart hardened by the second.

“I saw your concert,”

I was simultaneously thawed and frozen all over again. “How did you-“

“James mentioned it,”

“You still talk to Bucky?”

“Here and there,”

The conversation lapsed into silence.

He had… been there? I didn’t even bother to think about the talk I’d have to have with Bucky about my privacy, too focused on the more important matter at hand.

The venue was grungy, a basement bar with a small stage serving the communities aspiring comedians and desperate punk-rock garage dwellers just waiting for their big break. I had barely had the guts to pay the booking fee, though. It was just me, a piano, and my guitar for an hour and a half set of mostly cover songs that had gone better than I’d expected, but hadn’t been anything crazy. The crowd was appreciative and respectful. Several people had left tips, even more giving me a congratulatory clap on the back as I left the building that night, promising to “stream my EP” whenever I released it, despite the fact that I had no plans to do any such thing. Still, I couldn’t imagine that I hadn’t seen his face in the crowd. I couldn’t name what I was feeling as I imagined it; visualized his face on the other side of the smoky room, leaned against the bar with his dark eyes catching hold of mine…

“You came and you didn’t say anything? Not even a hello?”

Helmut laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “And risk my life over a free concert? No.” He paused, “Despite my tendency to sometimes be… less than kind, I knew it would rattle you to see me. I didn’t want to throw you off before your performance.”

I didn’t have much of anything to say in response. Instead, I picked at the paper straw wrapper in my lap and tried to look anywhere but in his direction, shoving down whatever was welling up in my chest. He wouldn’t let things go, though. He never could. That was half of why we’d never work. Every time I tried to drop an uncomfortable subject he’d be there to pick it up with a snide comment or two. It was an easy rhythm. Too easy. I had never wanted to fall back into it and yet, here I was, almost excited to snipe his next words down.

“Cain misses you,” He continued.

I folded the straw wrapper in my hands, pulling at the crease as I thought about the doberman puppy I had left behind. He would be so big now, as big as the one I’d taken with me was now. My heart ached at the thought.

“I doubt he remembers me after all this time,”

“Of course he does,” Helmut’s voice was low. It was almost hypnotic, the way he carried himself. He could fool anyone. I realized, with a sinking feeling in my stomach that couldn’t have been the calamari, he could still fool me. “He’s quite the troublemaker. More times than I can count he’s evaded me in the house, only to be found asleep in your old closet. I think he remembers your scent,”

“Thats…” I sat quiet for a moment, pursing through choices of words in my mind, mulling over the sharp accented way he pronounced the t in scent, “Sad. Really sad. Makes me wish I could’ve taken them both,”

“And what of Brutus?”

“He’s good,” A smile crossed my face. “Big, as you saw tonight. I remember when we got them, they told us they’d be 60 pounds at most, but I swear Brutus must’ve snuck in with the rest of those puppies, because he’s massive. Headbutts me every time I walk through the door wondering where I was. He’s a good boy, though. Keeps watch while I sleep, just in case.”

“Just in case I decided to let myself in through the window one night?”

I let myself laugh without judgement this time, reaching for my water. “Looks like it was all for nothing, then. Who knew he’d just let intruders come waltzing in off of the fire escape?”

“Am I truly considered an intruder in your home?” He asked it as if the answer wasn’t obvious. As if there were any other answer I could possibly give. As if I could’ve wanted him there. His earnestness almost hurt as much as his taunting did, maybe more, because even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, there was a soft ring of truth to his words.

I took the cowards way out. “I don’t know, what do you think?”

It was a vulnerability to not give a straight answer, the kind of weak spot that Helmut would catch wind of in an instant before using it to unravel someone piece by piece. Not a no, but certainly not a yes, and the fact that it hadn’t been a resounding yes was enough to glean that maybe, deep down, I wasn’t hating this dinner. He would see through me. Rip me to shreds for the subtle admittance that I hadn’t hated seeing him waiting for me on the couch when I walked through my door, even if I hadn’t expected or wanted him there in the first place.

I found it was better to lie by omission than to fully lie and let him see through me to the more important truth; For as much as I despised everything about him, I had missed Helmut Zemo. I had missed his stupid expensive taste and the tilt of his stupid head and his stupid shiny white smile. I had missed seeing his coat hung up beside the door and knowing what waited for me inside. It was sick how I had loved him. How I had loved every minute of him picking me apart by the seams and putting me back together. Who could possibly crave their own destruction? Who could live knowing that to be loved was to be deconstructed down to the bone and laid bare as something lesser, something so small compared to the great destroyer I devoted myself to.

How could he let me live like that if he truly saw through me?

And that was why I had to leave.

Loving Helmut Zemo was no way to live. I knew that. I had known that the day I picked up my dog and walked out of our home with nothing but my wallet, car keys, phone, and a polaroid picture of his silhouette. Somehow, I knew that he knew that too. Why else would I move on so suddenly, so sharply, removing every piece of the life we’d built to start myself fresh? A new me, I had said. A new chapter. Yet here I was across from him, shredded bits of paper littering my lap as he puppeteered my heart right back into his arms.

No. I couldn’t let it happen.

Not again.

“Listen, baron,” I didn’t let him answer my rhetorical question. It wouldn’t be wise to let him gain the upper hand again. It wouldn’t be smart to let myself stay weak. “I appreciate dinner. It’s been surprisingly lovely to catch up with you. I’m glad to know you’re not dead, and its great to know Cain is doing well, but I know you weren’t here to tell me that over a plate of mediocre pasta,”

Helmut smiled, his head in its signature tilt, and swished his own glass a bit. The ice was all but melted giving the liquor an almost clear quality as it diluted. Not a sip had been taken. “Ask the question, schatz,”

“Why are you here? Why did you stalk me here and break into my apartment when I made it clear that you weren’t welcome in my life?” My words came out so matter of fact even I almost recoiled at them. Not unemotional but detached.

“Um, who had the chicken alfredo?”

I could feel the blood drain from my face as I looked up at the poor waiter, hot plates in hand, as he took in our table at just the wrong time. Five minutes earlier he would have walked in on polite conversation about the dogs or the shitty appetizers. Now, though, he stood between a man who was known to kill for the things he wanted and me, the one thing he could never have again.

Surprisingly, though, Helmut waved a hand towards me as I froze. There were none of the usual dramatics, just polite chatter with the waiter as he set my plate in front of me and left Helmut with his, taking the offending calamari plate away with him as he scurried away, surely to tell his coworkers about the crazy exes at the corner table. Helmut didn't even carry on with his answer. He just started tucking in to his steak and potatoes, not sparing me a single glance. If I didn’t know better, if I hadn’t memorized the way his eyes looked in the low light of a restaurant across from me, I would think he’d been replaced by a skrull.

Where was the tearing? The shredding? The utter evisceration of my waiting throat as he drank deeply of my darkest, most shameful thoughts only to spit them out for the world to see. Where was that shame? In the before times, in the times that the two of us had been a we, he never would have paused to mind a waiter. The world would have revolved around him as he laid me bare, no matter who watched or waited in the wings. What changed?

How had I not noticed his docility until now?

The pasta was decent. It was better than anything I would’ve made at home, at least. I barely thought about it, though, letting my body go through the motions of eating mechanically while my mind went over a million things I could say. What could I say? There was nothing left to. We had gone over every possibility before I had left, at least I thought we had. Whatever we were was dead. That was certain. But what we could be…

I swallowed hard before I could choke on a relatively large piece of broccoli I neglected to chew in my trance.

Helmut seemed to be in a painfully similar situation. One look at his plate showed a steak cut into tiny pieces. Almost none of it looked eaten, just diced into a pile and shuffled around a bit on the plate to mix with the potatoes, smashed down from their neat ice cream scoop globe and spread with the back of a fork.

With a sigh, I set down my fork, pasta already forgotten.

“Lost your appetite?”

He paused his fiddling with his fork and knife, mirroring me and letting the utensils rest on the table beside his plate. It was odd to see him rattled. Strange to watch his eyes roll up to the ceiling and pause there, as if he was searching for the right words to say. He always knew just what to say to cut the deepest. Maybe it was foreign for him to not want to cut; To find a soft word, instead of a sharpened one. His mouth opened one… two…three times. Open and shut, open and shut. I couldn’t help but hurt for him. The man of many words was finally struck dumb.

Finally, it came.

“I’m sorry,”

I had anticipated a selfish reply, a demand for me to come back and put the past two years behind us, but time had changed him. It had changed us both. He was no longer the man he had been when he was first freed from behind bars, vengeful and biting and so deeply afraid of being alone again, but I was no longer the lost girl I had been either. I did not need to be destroyed to breathe. I could feel tears pricking up in my eyes as he reached a hand across the table to search for my own. It was such a familiar sight in a time of uncertainty. I kept my hands firmly in my lap, though. I would not give him the satisfaction.

More, I would not give him hope.

“Come home, schatz,”

There it was.

I couldn’t hold in the bitter, wet laugh that bubbled up through me, more at my own foolishness than at anything else. He had changed, yes, but some things never would.

“Helmut,” The word hurt to say. It was altogether both familiar and unfamiliar, covered in a thick layer of dust from time, but nothing could erase the fact that it had once been used over and over, like a prayer, as easy as breathing or saying my own name. “You know I can’t,”

He let his hand slink back to his side. “I had to try, you know,”

“I know,” The words were a whisper.

So this was closure?

The table was quiet. There was no desperation from Helmut’s side, no attempts to sway me or sudden outbursts of resentment. It was almost peaceful. His voice was sad but there was no manipulation in it. We laid our cards of the table as the game we’d played for years finally came to an end.

“You were right about us, when you left,” he laughed, “I was, as you so aptly put it, a massive ass. I was still so deeply disillusioned about this world and the horrors of it. It was as if everyone around me was just another cog in it all, even you. I thought if I could puppet it all, make things go my way, everything could just be quiet. The horrors would finally stop. The memories would finally stop. I took it too far, though. I took it out on you. For that, I will never be sorry enough,”

I put up a hand. “Helmut, you don’t have to do this-“

“I want to,”

His voice was delicate but didn’t waver. For the first time I wondered if this was more about what he needed to say than about what I needed to hear. I nodded him on. Without me even thinking about what I was doing, my hand caught his across the table.

“I wanted to run after you the same day you left. I nearly did, too, before I thought better of it. Then I really thought of what you said. What I did. It was then that I decided I had to change for the better, not for you but for myself. Only then would I allow myself to try again. So I did. I spent my time deconstructing the things I had seen and done and finally facing my own demons. I’m not perfect- believe me -but there are many things I have… worked on, for lack of a better word. James was surprisingly helpful throughout it all,”

“Is that why you’ve been talking?” My thumb stroked over his knuckles, pausing on a scar.

“More or less. I needed advice on how to overcome my atrocities, and I owed him an apology either way. He told me about your concert because he thought I would be ready to make amends, and yet I found myself unable to speak to you because I knew that if I did, I would have to beg you for forgiveness, and that is not something I will allow myself to do from anyone. Not now, nor ever,”

I let myself pull away. This was not a movie. There was no happy ending for the two of us at the end of this conversation. It was a chance to clear the air and let go of our grievances before going our separate ways. Treating it any other way would only hurt us both. “Why break in, then, and drag this all out over dinner? Why not just knock on my door, apologize, and leave?”

“I couldn’t have you slamming the door in my face and leaving me to apologize to the wall, now could I?”

We shared a sad smile, a knowing one. “I guess that’s true.”

“I needed to know you would hear what I had to say until the end,” he paused, “And one last confession. I must admit, I could not walk away without sharing dinner with you one last time. It’s selfish, as I am selfish, but I could not see you again without truly seeing you, more than just as you shouted at me and threw me to the curb,”

“You think so little of me?” I asked. There was no bite in it.

“No, I think so little of myself,” he finally took a sip from his glass, “Any anger on your part is warranted,”

We did not speak again for a long while. Helmut methodically went through the bite-sized pieces of steak on his plate as I finished the alfredo, which had grown cold in the time it took to sort things out. There was no quiet conversation, no jokes or shared stories in the glow of the lamps overhead. Instead we sat in peaceable silence and breathed in the finality of it all. I was almost grateful for it. I never would have imagined sharing a meal like this with him in all of the years I had known him and loved him. If it was to be the last, and it was, we would savor every moment of each others company. Every moment not spent on my meal was devoted to memorizing the line of his jaw and the shape of his eyes as he did the same for me.

By the time the waiter came to ask about dessert, I could have written sonnets about his face alone, and by the time he returned with the check, paid discreetly with a 40% tip for his troubles on Helmut’s card, I had committed the sound of his breathing to my mind. I could only hope the memory would last this time.

Realistically, I knew it wouldn’t.

I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as we approached the front of the restaurant together, pausing awkwardly outside the door as we exited out onto the street.

“So, this is it,” My hands found the pockets of my coat as I rocked onto the balls of my feet.

Helmut smiled softly in the lamplight. “Let me walk you home,”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,”

“Says who? I have to follow you either way, my car is parked down the block,” He offered me his arm.

I took it far quicker than I should have, relishing in the scent of his cologne. Even after all these years he had never switched to another brand, and I refused to admit to anyone else but myself that I was grateful for it. Instead I leaned into his warmth. “Well, it’s only a few blocks anyways. I guess it couldn’t hurt,” and with that, we were off.

The night was cool. Summer had given in to the pull of a lush fall, the temperatures dropping to a comfortable but windy chill when the sun fell below the horizon. The leaves were not yet falling but they’d begun their slow transformation from green into a mosaic of reds and yellows and greens, forming a rustling canopy above the sidewalk that allowed a flash of stars and moon through the foliage every few steps.

We were not the only pair walking through the streets that night, but if you had asked me about it later I would have said we were the only two people in the whole city, matching each other step for step under the flickering streetlights. Helmut’s crows feet were in full force as he laughed at my terrible jokes, and I couldn’t help but feel warmth rush through my neck and cheeks as he recounted the moment we first met.

It had been fall then, too. A brief, chance encounter in the streets of Paris was all it was, a night spend with a stranger, until I had seen him again in Sibera, and again in Germany, and again on the Raft, and again, and again, and again, and again…

He had been younger then, much younger, and still raw with grief, but I had loved him even then.

I was so lost in my own memories that I almost missed the stairs up to my apartment, but Helmut paused there, keeping me rooted with him even though the look in his eyes told me he almost kept walking past, hoping to gain one more turn around the block before he had to let me go. He didn't, though. This was the end of the line.

My arm slipped easily from its place against his own, hand catching briefly on the crook of his elbow. “Walk me to my door?”

His laugh felt almost nervous, a paid mockery of my own earlier reticence. “I don’t think that’s wise,”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman, baron?”

“I have never claimed that,” For a moment, when he paused, I thought that would be that. I would turn my back, ascend the stairs, and turn around to find he’d shifted back into the shadows from whence he came, but then the moonlight caught on his soft, wet eyes. “But for you, schatz, I try to be,”

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say as we walked up the front steps and into the building.

It had been so angry last time. I had vomited up every hateful, raging, repressed thought that I had shoved down into my chest over the course of our turbulent time together all at once and left without a second glance. This time, though, it felt wrong to end things without giving him credit for all of the other things, the things I had forgotten in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded us. How could I thank him? How could I tell him every wonderful thing about himself only to close the door in his face a moment later? I spent the whole trip up to my apartment trying to find a way to express even an ounce of what I felt, and then it was far too late.

We stood there on my novelty doormat, boots settled over the dirty cartoon chickens, hands in our pockets, and breathed in the stale hallway air.

“Thank you for dinner,” I said. If I shut off my heart and my mind and every other little betraying ache in my bones it was like it had been all those years ago. We were just meeting. This was the end of our very first date. There was a future instead of a past in the time that lay beyond us.

Helmut averted his eyes from mine. I could tell he was pretending too. “Of course,”

“I’ll see you again,” I lied, “I mean, it’s inevitable. We’ll end up at Bucky’s place at the same time,”

“Or run into each other at a busy cafe,” he offered.

“Exactly! Or our cells will end up next to each other in maximum security prison,” I laughed, but it caught, pathetic, in the back of my throat.

He took a step back, boots leaving my doorstep. “I look forward to it, whenever it may be,”

My shaking hands found my keys, an autopilot motion I had done a million times, and the door to my apartment swung open. I could hear Brutus in his kennel, beginning to whine the moment he heard me come home, but I paused there for a moment, one foot in and one foot out.

“Goodbye, Helmut,”

“Sleep well, schatz,”

I stepped inside and locked the door without turning around for a last look.

My tears came quicker than expected as I took in the room around me. It was the antithesis of my home with Helmut, all whites and beiges and grays from the sparse walls to the lonely couch against the wall. There was one great shock of black, though; a solid footprint on the windowsill. One last souvenir to remember him by.

I had done the right thing.

I had to have done the right thing.

Life with Helmut was hell. It was exciting and lush and romantic and alluring but it was destructive and painful too. It would mean being seen and unseen for the rest of my life, living with the ghosts of those lost in Novi Grad. He would never stop being the man his grief had created. He was just too broken… wasn’t he?

All at once I knew I had to see him again. This wasn’t going to be the end. There were still so many chances to make it right.

Before I knew my own feelings, I was undoing the latch and throwing my door open, only to find him there, feet planted solidly on that stupid welcome mat and fist raised to lift the knocker. Our eyes locked.

We didn’t need words then.

No, all I needed was his lips on mine and my hands in his hair. It was a need easily rectified.

He didn’t pull away as I grabbed the edges of his ridiculous fur coat and dragged him in for a kiss, letting the remains of that day’s lipstick smear against his chapped lips as the parted and made way for me. It was like a piece of my puzzle fell back into place, like the thing that had been lying dormant in my empty chest for the past two years had jumped to life and jumped into my throat. The tears weren’t coming anymore, though Helmut’s cheeks felt wet when I guided one of my hands to rest against it, dragging him closer. I needed him urgently. I needed all of it. Every moment I had missed.

At least one time in my entire tiny, useless life I needed to know him as he had always known me. I had to see him through eyes that would know every atom of him by heart.

It could have lasted second or hours. I was lost in it; lost in every heartbeat and the messy clack of teeth on teeth as we remembered exactly how our mouths locked into each other. There was no need to breathe. I would happily drown in him if he would let me. Through the passion I distinctly remembered this fervor, the endless need for him. It wasn’t frightening anymore, though. I knew how to walk away. We both did.

This time I didn’t want to.

Helmut was the first to pull away. His mouth was wet and red as he panted there, just a breath away from diving in for more, but he pulled away when I advanced again, instead choosing to speak between placing kisses on my cheeks and down my jaw. “I couldn’t let you walk away from me. Not again,” his voice shook as he kissed me, “Does that make me a bad man? Does that mean you can’t love me?”

I could only breathe a laugh as I pressed my chest to him. No measure of closeness was enough. I needed him to cover every inch of me. “I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried, and I’ve tried,”

“Please, stop trying,”

With that, he caught me in another kiss.

“We should probably go inside,” I panted, gesturing towards the apartment with my head and Helmut nodded, maneuvering us over the threshold and into the barren entryway of the home I’d made without him. It didn’t matter, though. That wasn’t what I was focused on. Instead, my hands were more focused on pulling his coat from his shoulders and discarding it loosely in the direction of the coat rack between fevered kisses.

The old Helmut would’ve pulled away and make some snarky remark about keeping the place clean. This Helmut, though- my Helmut, as I had selfishly started to refer to him mentally in the past few moments -just dragged me in closer after his arms were freed, letting his hand drift to the small of my back but not even an inch lower.

Suddenly, though, things seemed to cool. The kisses grew shorter, softer. His arms still held me but seemed to loosen their grip.

“Tell me you want this,” He whispered softly against the shell of my ear, “That you want me,”

Ah. So that’s what this is.

“Helmut, of course I do-“

“That’s not enough,” his voice was laced with a rare seriousness as he pulled away to look at me properly. His brown eyes glowed a million honeyed colors under the shitty, flickering overhead lighting I should have replaced months ago. They flitted from my swollen mouth to my cheeks to my watery eyes as his hand came up to cup my cheeks again. “Tell me this isn’t a mistake or a bad decision you’ll regret the second we finish,”

The rest went unsaid.

(Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me this means something to you, even if it doesn’t mean as much as it does to me. Tell me I won’t wake up alone tomorrow morning. Tell me anything and everything except the cruel reality that neither of us really knows what the future looks like once this is over)

I simply nodded my head, coming in for one closed mouth kiss. “I want this. I want you. Whatever I choose to do next, you’ll be a part of the decision. No more running away,”

Like a shot, we were off to the races again.

It was hard to detach our bodies long enough to give Brutus a treat to quiet him down, harder still to lead him to the bedroom and drop his hand long enough to turn on a nearby lamp, but somehow I managed. For all of the small things I’d forgotten about Helmut in the two years we’d spent apart, his bitten nails and the silhouette of his nose and the sound of his labored breathing as he took in my body with something akin to animalistic hunger, it was easy to fall back into the rhythm we’d always found ourselves in intimately.

His shirt came off first, exposing the soft curve of his stomach. I kissed down from his neck to his chest, letting myself pause on each and every pinkish scar that graced his flesh. I made a mental note to ask him about a few new ones, including a wicked one across his collarbone that still puckered into an inch long divot in his flesh. My fingers followed my mouth, mapping every inch of his flesh. They caught on every soft yielding place he offered, a worship on the altar of his body, dragging his flesh ever so slightly but never enough to leave a scratch or bruise.

I would not mark him any more than the world already had. It was not my purpose to remold him into my image. Instead I would venerate what he was, what he had become.

Helmut had put so much effort into changing himself, rebreaking the things that had never healed correctly and setting them right again. I refused to let him break down to splinters again. Not on my watch.

He shuddered at my attentions.

“Let me see you?” It was a question, not a demand, and how could I deny him when he asked so nicely?

I stood up again, relishing in the feeling of his fingers against the hem of my t-shirt, the gentle scratch of nails on skin as he lifted it over my head. When he looked at me, it was like he was looking at the most precious thing in the world. Usually he was so hungry for it that there was never a pause once my shirt was discarded. My bra would be thrown off with it, then my pants, then my underwear, all in such quick succession that I barely distinguished one article from the next in the order of things. This time, though, he paused, hands just inches from my bare flesh.

“My sweet girl,” he whispered to me like a prayer, a confession, “I don’t think I can hold back much longer,”

Slowly, deliberately, I stepped forward and pressed my body into his awaiting hands. He squeezed my hips once, gentle, and twice. Then they were roaming up to the clasp on my bra with that usual hunger again, freeing my breasts for his attentions. I don’t exactly recall how he manhandled me on to the bed, I was too busy feeling the hard press of his bulge through his crisp dress slacks. The first thing I was fully cognizant of was his hot breath on my sternum as he hovered over me, still standing but bent at the waist, boxing me in with his knees.

“So fucking sweet,” he whispered before taking one of my nipples between his lips and laving his tongue over the hardening tip.

I felt like a live wire. Heat was building everywhere. Dazzling electricity shot through my head and fingers and toes and cunt and gods especially my breasts. They were always my weak spot, and how he knew it, how he knew me. I wanted to thrash against him, to buck and gain his attention where I really needed it, but his body above mine held me fast, keeping me right where he wanted me, vulnerable to him and his specific brand of torture. With a particularly sharp pinch and a well timed suck he had me keening against him, curling into his every move.

How had I lived without him? It was hard to imagine a night not spend here with Helmut, wherever here was, not that that mattered. I was embarrassingly wet. The slickness had gathered enough that I could feel it on my thighs despite my jeans. When I tried to relieve myself, though, the baron caught my hand, tutting softly.

I expected to have to ask permission. Soft begs escaped my mouth. I needed him. I had no patience for games. Instead, though, he lifted up off of my chest and smiled, pulling my hand to his lips. “Let me help you, love,”

There are no words in the human language that could adequately represent the sound that escaped my mouth. I could not even begin to try. It continued even as I lifted my hips to shimmy free from my jeans and underwear in one fluid motion, only ceasing when Helmut was on his knees with his face buried in my cunt. I was making different noises then. Loud. Guttural. If I had any mind left at all I would worry what my neighbors thought, to see me out on my doorstep desperately pawing at a man only to hear the noises we were making in tandem now. Thankfully, any sensible thought I had left seemed to fly out the window with Helmut’s first lick to my cunt.

It was clear that he hadn’t forgotten me, and if he had, the muscle memory was coming back quick. His tongue was deft as it worked its way over my aching nub in a pseudo-figure eight; circling once, twice, and three times before dipping back through my folds. I held him in place this time, though, rocking into his mouth. At some point my hands found their way into his hair. It was so soft between my fingers, so pliable as I pulled against him, desperate for more of him, anything he would good.

Every time he relented to me. Each sharp jolt was rewarded with a kiss against my thigh or a muttered curse in Sokovian, hot breath teasing my glistening mound.

He was so giving, so attentive to my every need. He had always been a generous lover, never leaving me wanting for anything, but this felt… different. The way he sucked bruises into my thighs, relenting to each and every sobbing please that escaped my soft lips, was a new and devastating experience. There were no power games left to play, no lording his sexual prowess over me as he brought me slowly closer and closer to the ever distant goalpost, just his mouth on me over and over and over again as he wrung the first orgasm of the night out of me, then the second in short measure, barely ceasing from one to the next.

By the time he decided I’d had my fill, my legs were a trembling mess against his shoulders and my cunt was a sopping mess.

He grinned a crooked grin at his masterpiece.

“How was that, my love,”

I could barely catch my breath enough to speak. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, thrumming a frantic drumbeat even as the room quieted. “So good- really really good, Helmut,”

Slowly, he rose up from his knees, undoing his belt. “Please say my name again, schatz,”

“Helmut,” My voice was hushed. Reverent.

He undid the button at his fly, pulling at the band of his boxers. “Again,”

It fell from my lips like a prayer. “Helmut,”

His cock bounced free, bobbing as he took a sharp, steadying breath. He placed his hand at the base and squeezed slightly.

“Again,”

“Helmut,”

“Fuck, that’s good,” The trance broke momentarily as I gazed up at him, watching the sweat roll down his forehead in shining rivulets despite the chill in the air. He wiped at them with the back of his free hand and smiled sheepishly. “Scoot back and get comfortable, please. I don’t think I’ll last long,”

I did as he asked, settling against my pillows on the still-made sheets. “Neither will I,”

“Where are your condoms?”

“Bedside drawer, way in the back. I’m on the pill too, so no worries,”

He moved quickly, grabbing a foil package from the small pile I’d accrued, just in case.

It felt odd to have him be the one using them.

There had been a few other men who had been invited here, fewer still that made it to the point that Helmut and I were at now. Every time, though, I hadn’t been able to go through with it, because every time they had finally settled themselves above me, I would close my eyes and, just for a moment, see Helmut in their place. It was unsettling the first time, enough so that I sent the guy home right away. The next time, though, it was more thought provoking than anything. I chalked it up to him being my longest lasting sexual partner and left it at that, but now, watching him roll the condom onto his length and crawl into his position over me, I knew.

I would never get over him, even if I tried for years. My heart had a space carved out in the shape of his own. No matter how long I stayed away, I would never find something quite like what we had. He was it. This was what people dreamed about. And to think, I had almost let it slip away…

He slid one hand into mine, lacing our fingers together in the gentle lamplight. “Are you ready for me?”

“More than ready,” My thighs spread as I canted my hips up.

Physically and mentally and every other possible way I needed him. I was prepared.

So Helmut pumped himself once with his free hand before guiding himself into my wet heat.

It was impossible to last long once we were finally complete.

Feeling him inside me was like knowing the truth of the universe. It was comfortable, and thrilling, and so deliciously enough. He filled me well, finding his rhythm as he swore and released my hand to prop himself up more comfortably. We were linked together like the final pieces of a puzzle. I closed my eyes at let myself relish in it.

There was nothing left to worry over while Helmut was inside of me. All thoughts that weren’t of him were banished. It was something to be cherished, every thrust paired with a whispered confession of love from one of us, a fleeting kiss, a curse, a plea… We laid ourselves bare. I let my legs wrap around his warm, soft hips as he rutted into me, bringing a hand between us to circle my clit once more. Even after everything he refused to leave me behind while he chased his own pleasure. It didn’t take much to send me tumbling over the edge into oblivion.

As always, Helmut followed me down.

His thrusts quickened, then stilled as he came to rest upon me, panting and heaving and begging for breath. I didn’t care much. He smelled of cologne and sweat as I buried my face in his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could feel him soften inside of me but I was far too spent to urge him to move.

We only shifted apart when he slipped free of me.

Helmut quickly kissed my forehead and gathered himself up, shuffling to the trash can to discard the used condom and grab a tissue to wipe himself up. I didn’t let myself move an inch. If I moved, would the bliss run away? Would I realize what I’d done? I let myself lay instead, eyes closed, panting in the autumn chill as my lover approached and wiped up our beautiful mess as gently as he could manage. With one last kiss to my thigh, he discarded the rag, opened the window, and crawled back into bed with me.

The process was indelicate, a lot of awkward shuffling of sticky limbs, but we were settled beneath the blankets soon enough. Helmut stroked his fingers down my arm languidly while kissing the back of my neck.

I broke the peace between us.

“I don’t… I don’t know what this means for us,”

He sighed gently. His breath was soothing and familiar against my shoulder. “That’s not something we have to decide at this very moment,”

“But I just don’t want you to think this means something… or at least something more than it does? If that makes sense? I don’t know,”

“Schatz, please,”

“I want to keep my own place, at least for now. I don’t know what that means for when I’ll see you or if we’ll keep doing this,” I gestured vaguely to my nude body beneath the sheets, “or if we’re even a thing anymore, bu-“

Helmut reached his arm around us, placing a quieting finger over my lips and another soft kiss against my shoulder.

“I swear, your mind sounds even louder than mine,”

“Sorry,”

“No reason to be,” His hand left my lips, running down to my stomach and pulling me back towards the softness of his chest. “As for your questions, I shall respect your wishes about distance and housing and labels, whatever they may be. That being said, as long as you’re still up for… this, as you put it, I will never deny you, no matter the distance. I would cross oceans for you,”

A cum-drunk, half-asleep giggle escaped me as he nuzzled in, kissing my ear.

“Thank you,”

“No, thank you,” he matched my laughter with his own, “I believe this is what James would call post nut clarity,”

“Now you ruined it!” I huffed. The faux anger only lasted a moment, though, before I was rolling to face him, cheek pressed to the soft, downy hair of his chest. “I love you, Helmut.”

“I love you too, sweet girl. Now sleep. I’ll get up and deal with the dog once you’re resting,”

For the first time in two years, I breathed in the scent of Helmut’s cologne before lapsing into a peaceful sleep.

---------

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first foray into smut in literal years, and it was literally all written within a 12 hour period, so I hope any mistakes weren't enough to take away from your enjoyment. Comments are always appreciated, but never expected. See you on the next authors note!

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo x reader #daniel brühl #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader #daniel bruhl x reader #zemo smut #marvel smut

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mariaxxxxx · 7 months

Text

Red fruits (MarvelboysxFem!reader) series masterlist.

Summary: You were a sweet, ripe, juicy fruit; ready to be devoured. Marvelboysxfem!reader!)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/ Minors DNI, Angust, Hurt comfort, Sex, Apologies, Crying, Creampie, Passionate sex, virgin!reader, size difference, smut, soft!dom!, HEA, good ending, somnophille, slight degradation, duvious consent, menstrual sex, pregnancy, arranged marriage, inexperienced reader, abortion commented, unprotected sex (don't do that wrap this thing), kidnapping, aftercare, curse words.

A/N: English is not my mother tongue. I apologize for any errors.

◦ parte 1:Cherry (bucky barnes/winter soldier x fem!reader) - The Soldier takes care of you when your monthly blood appears suddenly. (+18)

◦ parte 2: Strawberry (Loki x fem!reader) -

◦ parte 3: Blackberry(Steve Rogersx fem!reader) -You shouldn't have had too much to drink at that party, blackbarry. (+18)

◦ parte 4: Raspberry (T'Challa x fem!reader) -

◦ parte 5: Dragon fruit ( Namor x fem!reader)- You beg K'uk'ulkan to give you a baby (+18)

◦ parte 6: Blueberry(Helmut Zemo xFem!reader)-

#namor x reader #bucky barnes x reader #helmut zemo x reader #loki x reader #steve rogers x reader #t'challa x reader #mcu fanfiction #x reader #mcu fandom #winter soldier x reader

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lokislittlemidgardian · 1 year

Note

Can we get a Zemo caregiver moodboard please?

#ria answers #daddy!zemo #cg!zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo x fem!reader #helmut zemo x wife!reader #helmut zemo x reader #little!reader #sfw age regression #caregiver #age regression reader #sfw littlespace #agere sfw #little reader

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undercoverpena · 2 years

Note

I just saw that zemo isn't in the thunderbolts movie and im devastated and would really love some headcanons when you ask him to massage you to cheer me up🥴

never say never. marvel are sneaky snakes, so we don’t know yet fully if he is/isn’t. i’m holding out hope that they’re just trying to keep us on our toes.

also this got away from me, sorry not sorry.

On Your Back

Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

_________________

“You’ve hurt your neck.”

You paused your movements, fingers falling from your neck as you close your eyes, sighing, as you turn to face him.

The most annoying thing about him being here, is that nothing goes unnoticed. You expect it’s the very reason he was able to commit the crimes he did. He’s detail-orientated, patient, observant.

“You keep rubbing your neck, yes?”

When you open your eyes, your glare must say enough because the corners of his lips twitch upwards. “Am I? I wasn’t aware.”

He places his cup down, the steam swirling upwards as he comes around the kitchen counter. Your throat tightening, thighs pressing together as he does.

Because it’s hard to be around him.

Because you should be wary of him, not attracted to him. You shouldn’t want him near you, instead of constantly thinking about being under him.

It’s gotten worse since Latvia. Since the tension mounted to a height you’re surprised Walker didn’t notice, when he showed up.

And then you’d been free. His great escape providing breathing room, until Bucky picked him up, hid him, and landed him on your doorstep.

Please, just until we can be sure there’s 100% no more serum.

That had been two weeks ago.

Now, it’s getting harder and harder to fight Zemo for the sake of fighting him.

Especially when he looks at you with care, adoration even. When he keeps doing kind things like cooking for you, cleaning, and genuinely not being an asshole like you’d expected him to be when he was plonked under your care.

“I did warn you about moving the chaise alone.”

“I remember, Baron.”

He tuts. “If you can recall it, why didn’t you call for me? Now you’re hurt. I had told you to call for me if you were redesigning that room too.”

There are so many options you could consider.

Pain killers and a heat pad, a sedative for the Baron and a restful evening. Or, saying:

“Are you going to assist me or just keep pointing out hindsight’s? Because while you’re a pain in my side, this actually hurts more.”

He blinks.

You’re usually not short.

You’re sarcastic, and dry. Often purposefully argumentative, but not short. Not with him. You reserve that for Bucky—Bucky who asks you to be around handsome criminals and not expect you to drop to your knees for them.

“Of course.”

“Wh—“

“I’ll help,” he says, a curt nod.

And then he moves past you, beckoning you to follow. While you don’t what to follow his instruction, his outright demand, your reluctance is wearing thin quickly, following him through rooms in your home until you reach the room where the problematic chaise is.

You shoot a glare as he stops at the foot of it, hands rubbing together. “If this is you being an ass—“

“Lie down.”

You don’t move. His eyes narrowing, lips thin as he sighs. A set of expressions you’ve grown used to, usually brought on because of his displeasure at you not directly following one of his orders.

He sighs, turning on his heels, leaving the room. You hear his footsteps until you don’t, all set to berate him when you hear a clatter, and his footsteps getting louder and louder.

In his hands are lotions, ones he must have noticed prior to now to have found them so quickly. His eyes scanning over you as he returns to the place he was.

“Lie down. Please.”

You hesitate, but for different reasons, moving closer to the chaise as you say, “It’s my back too. If… if you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“And what is it that you think I’m about to do?”

You hate his smirk. Even if you don’t. You swallow it all quickly regardless. “I assumed offer me a massage?”

“You assumed correctly.”

“So,” you continue, “It won’t solve all my problems if you get me to lie on the chaise, if that’s your intention.”

He smiles, more deviously than you liked.

Which is why you ended up on your bed. The cool air brushing over your skin, your cheeks warm, almost burning through your duvet as you wait for him to enter the room.

He’d insisted on being outside when you removed your upper clothing. Him placing both a towel down on the bed, and handing you one—as if he was a professional masseuse.

“One is for any mess—“ his comment sparking a raise eyebrow. “The other is to cover yourself, to feel comfortable, until I enter.”

You try to reply in an even tone when he asks if you’re comfortable, because you’re not. How can you be? You’re topless, even face down, with him about to massage your strained muscles.

A barrage of thoughts attacking you, faux snapshots of disapproval from Bucky flashing through your mind accompanying all the ways in which this was bad. Especially when the mattress dips, and you feel his knees either side of your thighs.

Because, you should tell him this is a bad idea. Even if it’ll feel nice, even if will stop the pain from pulsing. This was too far.

Your brain hurriedly trying to assess all the rights and wrongs, wants and needs.

“Be aware, I have attempted to warm my hands, however—“

You gasp.

The decision removed as Zemo’s fingers slide over your shoulders, the coolness of his fingers on your skin both soothing and welcomed. Each digit adding a slightly different pressure, as if knowing exactly which parts are causing you discomfort.

And you should hate it. That his touch is precise, that it’s nice, that you want him to slide his palms down your back and rid the ache from the centre of your spine too.

Your lips even about to ask as much, because you’re already over the line. The two of you having galloped so far over it, you weren’t sure you’d get back on the right side of it.

But a hand moves, instinctively. One focusing on an area between your shoulder and neck, and the other sliding to the part close to the second pain point.

“Is it here, the pain?” he asks, his voice darker even in his low volume as he presses the base of his palm down, your spine curling as he does so. “Ah, it is.”

You clench your eyes shut, the pain loosening, his fingers and palm massaging whatever grievance there was from you. Just as the scent of the lotion he used met your nose.

It’s one you recognise, one you remembered smelling in the store. A treat, you’d mused to yourself. One you hadn’t indulged in until now.

And what a unique treat it was.

Especially when his hands moved from soothing to massaging the untouched parts of your back. Ensuring he rubbed your neck, your shoulders. Dipping fingers into your shoulder blades, likely drawing patterns in lotion on your back.

But he always returns to your neck, to your spine. Every movement so calculated, it relaxes you—actually unlocks the tension from your muscles.

Each slide of his fingers, each motion of his palm, wrist and arm settling it all. Making it almost seem worth it for the hours of discomfort moving the chaise caused for all of this.

Because he’s lighting your skin on fire and soothing it all at once. It’s not enough, him just touching you here, now awakening more of your desire to have his hands elsewhere, realising how purposeful he is.

Knowing it’s likely, although not guaranteed, that while he hasn’t ever been with you, he’d know the exact ways to make your toes curl.

It’s this lulled state and ridiculous thoughts which are the cause for why you moan his name. Not Zemo. Not Baron, as you’ve been teasingly calling him.

“Oh, Helmut.”

Your eyes widen, even against the duvet. Your muscles, all of them, flexing into a tensed state. Even his hands stopping, halting. Neither of you even daring to breathe.

He should move. That’s all you think. He should leave the room and you should avoid seeing him for the remainder of his time here—create a schedule, if you have to. Share and split off the rooms in the house—

“Who knew you could make such sweet sounds, Liebling.”

Your eyes flick to the side, frowning, instinctively wanting to clench your thighs together. Because fuck. Double, almost triple fuck.

Needing, and wanting to turn to look at him. Especially when he places both palms on your back gently, less massaging, and more a reminder he’s there and remaining so.

“It’s important you listen now,” he says, leaning down, mouth closer to your ear.

You’re sure you can feel his heart hammering against your spine, even through his top. Even without him being flat against you.

“I think there’s a high probability that you’re as tired of playing this game, yes?” he whispers, fingers spreading out over your skin. “And while you’re in pain, I don’t believe where my hands are now, is the only place you’d like them.”

If your cheeks weren’t already on fire before, they’re now molten. Threatening to torch your bed, and everything else in the room.

“Now is the time you tell me if I’m wrong, Liebling,” he says, returning to kneeling upright.

And you contemplate.

Briefly.

“My back… it still hurts…” you mumble, your head turning more sideways, trying to gain a view of him. “But, no.”

“No?”

“No. You’re not wrong.”

You’d kill to see if he’s smirking or tilting his head. Half tempted to try and roll, even if it meant displaying yourself to him.

But, you’re unsure if it would inflict more pain, your neck less bothersome but your back still twinging.

Until he moves, your focus shifting, slowly gripping the towel under you as you try to roll, finding him watching you, a curious and lustful look on his face as you meet his eyes.

Likely having waited, wanting you to move to face him.

“Zemo…”

“Helmut,” he corrects. “Helmut is the name I’d prefer when you’re begging me not to stop.”

He smirks, rubbing his hands together before he places a knee on the bed.

“I wouldn’t worry about your back, Liebling,” he says, placing his hand down beside your waist. “I’ll only need you to keep still, and remain on it and nil else. Do you think you’ll be able to do that?”

#baron zemo #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x fem!reader #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x y/n #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #baron zemo x fem!reader #daniel brühl x reader

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justsomerandomfanfic · 1 year

Text

Free - Helmut Zemo X Female Reader

Title: Free

Helmut Zemo X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Sam (Mentioned), Bucky (Mentioned), Fury (Mentioned), the Avengers (Mentioned), and Dora Milaje (Mentioned)

Requested by @freestarlight!

WC: 2,574

Warnings: Reader was an ex-SHIELD agent, blip mentioned, FATWS canon violence mentioned very briefly, slight angst, some good ol' flirting, crying, some kissing, confessions, nicknames, Reader is kind of a criminal now..., slight suggestiveness, and fluff

You never thought you'd ever fall in love. You were an agent for SHIELD who worked constantly and had no time for real personal matters or relationships. For years, you did your job. Going on small missions for Fury, filing paperwork, and even sometimes working undercover when needed, but all the while you did your job; and you did it well. You hardly ever thought about a life where you had a "normal" job. Yes, sometimes you daydreamed of a better apartment, maybe even a pet to keep you company on the days you were free from work. And, yes. You daydreamed when you were off work, dressed in sweats on your couch as you binge-watched some Netflix movie. You thought about a life with a sweet partner, a house with a white picket fence, and maybe a pet or two. But you knew with the life that you chose, that seemingly perfect dream wasn't possible.

You never thought you'd ever have a life outside of work, so when the snap happened. A lot of things had changed. SHIELD wasn't as... Alive, shall we say, and you were basically out of the job for five years. You had to think of something. So, when you had the chance, you got a job as a waitress. It paid alright, but not the best. You had to deal with rude customers and low wages, and sadly just working that job couldn't pay the bills. So, you had to take up another part-time job. You were able to get a job in an office building. And with your filing expertise, you went around five hours of the day filing papers, and files, and using the copier machine. Those five years were rough. You sort of missed your job at SHIELD.

You were overwhelmed when everyone came back. Only five years prior did you have to basically restart your life, and now, you had to do it again. New York had become a very stressful environment. The people there were not as trusting as they once were. But, you still kept your head down and your mouth shut and did as you always had done. You were going to survive this new life. You did it once, and you could do it again. And because life just loved to kick you while you were down, you got a phone call a couple of weeks after everyone came back. It was an unknown caller, but for some reason, you answered it. Your brain rationalized that it was a scammer or a wrong number. But, no. You knew that voice from your time at SHIELD. It was Sam Wilson. The Falcon.

He was asking for your help. Yours! Like you could help him figure out who's been recreating the Super Soldier Serum, really? You were just a Level Two Agent. You didn't know all about the details; you only knew the basics. You wouldn't be a help to him at all. If anything, you wouldn't only get him killed. But Sam insisted you join him and Bucky and find out who was recreating the serum and stop them. You wanted to say no, you really, really did. But, something deep down inside you was nagging you to say yes. You couldn't explain it, not even now, but that feeling... It was like another force, pulling and pushing you. You said 'yes,' and suddenly you were in a plane headed toward Madripoor.

~~~

Again, you never thought you'd fall in love. But... When you saw him... Dancing to the loud, pulsing music of the dark club... He was tall, wearing a seemingly costly outfit, and he was just chilling; having a good time. You were smitten instantly. You wanted to go over to him and dance, too. But, your body froze in place. You had a job to do, sadly. You didn't have time to go over there. That's when you found Sam and Bucky, and they uttered the mysterious man's name. Helmut Zemo. You had heard that name before. With your Level Two clearance, sometimes you were allowed to review criminal files, and Zemo was one of them. You had read through his file probably more than ten times, almost invested in his saddening story. The loss of his home and family... Even though your mind tried to object, you couldn't help but feel sorry for him; understanding why he was so against the Avengers in the first place. You understood, to an extent, his pain.

For however long, you, Bucky, Sam, and Zemo stayed at his safe house in Latvian. It was lavish, to say the least. You knew Zemo was a Baron and all, but you were hypnotized by the lovely blue, red, yellow, and clear star-shaped glass that made up the four large windows. And during your time staying there, you had grown very close to the Baron. Zemo was sweet, compassionate, and even funny at times. He would subtly poke fun at Sam or Bucky, making you have to hide your grins.

During one day in the Latvian home, Sam and Bucky had asked you to watch Zemo for the day while they went out for some research purposes. You were a bit hesitant, but that uncertainty washed away when Zemo offered to make you tea. It was calm, the time you had watching Zemo. Even though Sam and Bucky were very cautious of the man, you didn't think Zemo was an actual threat. He did what he had to do, he got his revenge. He was not a threat. He especially wasn't a threat when he walked out of that great bathroom of his in a blue robe, slippers, and chain around his neck. He even offered the bathroom to you next, allowing you to have a nice warm bath to relax and calm you. Of course, you took it.

You sat together, side by side. Just talking. The conversation was a bit awkward in the beginning, but you quickly relaxed in his presence. He was a very charming and soothing person, his accented voice was hypnotic, and the way he looked at you gave you butterflies in your stomach. You weren't used to men looking at you in such an affectionate or caring manner. But Zemo was different. You felt comfortable around him. The tension between you and him melted away after only a few minutes in his presence. He made you laugh, almost crying laughing, he was addicting. And on top of that, he was a good listener, he listened to you. You couldn't believe how close the two of you got in the span of three hours. From small glimpses into each other's pasts to full conversations about everything under the sun. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this... Content.

"So," You turned slightly in your seat on the couch to face Zemo, tucking your legs under you slightly. "Don't laugh but this question has been on my mind for a while."

Zemo gave you a small grin, his arm across the back of the couch, his hand almost grazing your shoulder. "Ask me whatever you want; I will not judge."

Your cheeks flushed, and you bit your lip slightly as you spoke, "What's your favorite color?" You blushed harder when you realized what you had just blurted out, and how silly the question was.

"Well," His green eyes sparkled as he smiled, his accent more prominent than usual, "My favorite color is purple." Your eyes winded slightly in surprise and Zemo chuckled as he continued, "Specifically Dark Orchid. And you?"

"Y/F/C." You spoke with a small laugh, tilting your head slightly as you stared at the man before you, "Why Dark Orchid specifically?"

"Yes, well..." Zemo started, licking his lips. "Dark Orchid, the color conveys a message of strength, mystery, and determination." He smirked, "Descriptors that I believe I possess." He spoke with such confidence in his words. It was adorable, how much confidence he carried in himself. "I find that to be fitting."

"Very," You smiled. "I completely agree, Mr. Baron. Very fitting indeed." Zemo laughed at the title you bestowed upon him.

Zemo turned his gaze to you, his brown eyes soft and warm as he stared right into your orbs. "I'm glad you agree, meine Schatz. But, please..." The tips of his fingers grazed your shoulder, "Call me Helmut."

A flustered smile formed across your features and your heart began racing. How could you possibly deny this man? "Alright... Helmut."

Zemo had thought you were beautiful from the moment Sam and Bucky introduced you to him at the club. His eyes followed you wherever you went, admiring every inch of your being. Zemo's locked-away heart was rapidly beating in his chest, wanting to escape; and you had the key. At first, he tried to ignore these growing feelings. He hadn't felt this way in a long time; not since he met his late wife. This love, this longing for you, was unfamiliar and frightening. He didn't know if he could do it again, his mind racing with 'what ifs'. What if he did let himself fall for you and you mirrored those feelings? What if something bad happened and you got hurt? What if you didn't even return those feelings? What if you hated him? Would he be alone forever? He had accepted that a long time ago. All those thoughts swirled inside his mind, making him feel sick to his stomach.

But then, in the quiet moments, when you were both relaxing in his Latvian home, he realized that he had fallen for you. Hard.

~~~

After defeating the Flag-Smashers, stopping the serum, and the Dora Milaje wanted Zemo. You were scared when they first came to take him away, you stayed close to Helmut's side, thankful that they gave him more time. Those extra eight hours gave you and Helmut enough time to think of what to do. Without Bucky or Sam even suspecting anything, you and Helmut were able to escape. It was a hard task, but the two of you were able to ride off in one of Helmut's fancy cars, right off into the sunset. You almost felt bad for Sam and Bucky, after they had asked for your help, only for you to run off with the man who caused so much pain and mischief. But, when you turned to gaze at the man behind the wheel beside you, the wind blowing through your hair and the sun gently setting on the horizon behind the two of you, you didn't care anymore.

"They are going to take you away, Helmut." You stared desperately up at him, your fingers clenched around the sleeve of his expensive coat.

"It doesn't matter now, my Y/N." He said softly, taking your hands into his. "There is no point worrying about it. I can not stop them this time. I have to go with them."

You rapidly shook your head, "No, Hel, you don't. You deserve a second chance." You pledged, "I cannot allow them to take you away."

He pulled your hands into his, intertwining his fingers with yours, and leaned into your palm, staring lovingly into your eyes. "Please, Y/N, do not try to stop them. It won't be possible."

You frowned deeply, looking down at your shoes, pressed toe to toe with one another, you closed your eyes, tears threatening to spill as you tried to control your breathing. "We don't have to stop them if we leave, Helmut. We can escape and run away. We can restart our lives... You can be free."

He gently ran a finger under your chin, lifting your head up to look at him. He was smiling down at you sweetly, his eyes sparkling with adoration. "My sweet Y/N," He whispered. "They will hunt us down like animals. They will come for you. I can not let that happen."

You felt the tears fall down your cheeks, "I don't care." You cried, "Even if you don't believe it, you deserve a second chance. I know how much pain you have suffered and how much you have struggled. Please, Helmut, don't go."

His hand reached up and wiped a tear off your cheek, cupping your face tenderly. Leaning down, Helmut's eyes fluttered shut as his lips touched yours gently; brushing against you like a feather. He paused, his breathing shallow, and his lips hovering over yours, waiting for your response. You didn't waste another second, leaning up a little bit to press your lips against his, kissing him passionately, feeling his kiss returning your passion. His hands came to rest around your waist and you could feel yourself melt into his hold. His lips moved perfectly against your own as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer to him until there was no space between you two. Your hands made their way around his shoulders, the fur of his coat tickling you slightly as your fingers raked through the hair on the nape of his neck.

After what seemed like an eternity, you broke apart slightly to catch your breath. Your hands still held onto him tightly as you looked him in the eyes. Your heart swelled as you gazed into his eyes filled with adoration, "Helmut..." You muttered breathlessly, your voice barely audible.

His hand trailed its way up to your face once again, gently wiping the wetness from your cheeks with his thumb. He smiled softly down at you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His nose brushed against yours lightly, as a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "We should leave soon, my love. We don't want to get caught."

You were free. For the first time in years, you finally felt happy. You felt truly happy.

~~~

You never thought you'd fall in love. You never thought you'd have that chance to find someone who loved you for you. You had accepted that fact and had lived your life that way, but, here you were; tangled in the silk sheets of a king-sized bed. The sun softly shone through the small opening in the curtain, casting warm rays upon your soft skin, making you feel sleepy. You turned over, wrapping your arms around a very familiar body. A body that belonged to the man you loved so dearly. You smiled as you kissed along his jawline, before closing your eyes and nuzzling your face into his warm neck. You could feel him smile, kissing your temple tenderly. "Good morning, meine Schatz," He mumbled in that raspy, husky voice. You smiled even wider.

"Morning, Hel." You sighed out softly, your fingers running up and down his spine, and he hummed contently. You snuggled closer, sighing contentedly; enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

"What should we do today, my love?" He asked, his fingers slowly, soothingly, running up and down your arm, caressing your own skin. You smiled, pressing your lips against his throat.

"I don't know. I mean, it's Sunday, we could stay in bed all day..." You replied, trailing your fingers across the bare skin on his chest.

"I'm not opposed to that," He murmured. "If you wish it, we can stay here as long as you desire, my dove."

You giggled, burying your face deeper in his neck. "That sounds perfect, darling." You replied, letting out a sigh as you felt the warmth of his body surround you.

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holylulusworld · 8 months

Text

Best night of your life (2)

Summary: You get the offer of your life.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plussized!Reader, Implied former Helmut Zemo x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: a lil angst, unrequited feelings (kinda), cocky Bucky, teasing, implied smut, light smut, oral (fem rec), bitchy Peggy Carter

A/N: I love being a tease...

>> Part 1

“Fuck, look at you,” he purrs in your ear. Bucky has you sprawling out on his desk. A very expensive desk. Not that you had the time to get a closer look. He was all too eager to shove you dress up your thighs and spread your legs. “Such a pretty pussy for me to ruin.”

His face ended up between your thighs seconds after he ripped your panties down your trembling legs. “OH GOD,” you grab a fistful of his hair, tugging hard as your legs begin to shake again. “Y-ou didn’t exaggerate.”

Bucky chuckles against your cunt. He gives your thrumming clit a few more kitten licks before he gets up from the floor to lean over your body. Bucky greedily claims your lips, tongue sliding over yours. “That was the most delicious pussy I ever tasted, doll. I hope to do this again with you.”

“More?” you whine. “You promised me the night of my life. Your mouth is very good, but I’m curious if your cock can keep up with your tongue.”

“Sweetness, you won’t survive taking my cock after I ate you out,” he grins. Damn, that man. His second name should be cockiness, not Buchanan. “Let me take you out on a date before I feed this pussy with my cock.”

“Hey, don’t chicken out now,” you mutter. “I want that dick, and I want it now.”

He laughs at your attitude. “Baby doll, I won’t fuck you before we had our first date.” Bucky’s eyes darken when you wrap your legs around his waistline. “You’re a bad girl, aren’t you?”

“Depends…” You watch Bucky place his hands on each side of your head. He cages you with his body, teasing you with the feeling of having him on top of you.

“On what?” He asks.

“If you like a bad girl.”

“I like you,” Bucky claims your lips again. “I think we can find a compromise.”

“Shoot me, Sir.”

He laughs wholeheartedly at your reply. Bucky pecks your lips and pushes off the desk to hold out his hand for you.

“We will go back downstairs, dine together, and after I kicked my guests out, I’m going to ruin this pretty pussy and make you mine…”

Bucky led you back downstairs to dine with you. Now he shoves another canape into your mouth, smirking as you eat out of his hand. Literally…

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers lowly. His erection prominent in his pants he already imagines how he ruins you the moment the last guest left his house. “I will make you scream my name tonight.”

“I already did,” you cock your head to look at his crotch, “didn’t I? Right after you pushed your thick and talented fingers inside of my greedy hole.”

“Holy,” he curses under his breath. “You dirty girl. Where have you been all my life?” He furrows his brows, expecting an answer.

“I was dating the wrong guys, I guess,” as you run your hands over Bucky’s chest, a pair of jealous eyes follow the motion.

Once again, Margaret didn’t get every man’s attention, because of you.

She grabs Helmut’s wrist to move a little closer to your position.

“Peggy, what’s wrong?” Helmut wants to know. He thought Peggy will be all over him, and now, she seems to be more interested in listening to your and Bucky’s conversation.

“I just want to know how she wants to get rid of the extra calories,” Peggy sneers when you look in her direction. You grit your teeth, ready to give her a snarky comeback.

“Well, that’s easy,” Bucky jumps in. He narrows his eyes at Peggy and smirks, “I will fuck every single calorie out of her body tonight, and every night after. Not that I want her to lose one single pound. Y/N is perfect the way she is and gets me rock-hard.”

You are speechless and just watch Bucky snap his fingers at his bodyguards. “Miss Carter wants to leave my home now. Make sure she finds her way.” He says, nodding at Helmut. “You are welcome to join her.”

Bucky smirks when you pounce on him. You press your lips to his ear, and purr. “How about you kick all of them out right now and fuck me on that buffet. I’m on the menu tonight…”

“Fuck, I knew it was the best decision of my life to order food from this catering company…”

>> Part 3

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mafia au #Best night of your life (2)#mobster!bucky #mobster!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction

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mjolnirswriststrap · 1 month

Text

Silver Bullet

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Helmut Zemo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,670 Masterlist

Summary: The best night of the year, Halloween, turns into a night you just want to forget. PART 1/4.

Warnings: werewolves, cheating, backstabbing best friend, Zemo is a whore, truly.

Red cloaks filled the crowd. This years Halloween parade theme being Dracula. Rob Zombie blared through speakers anchored to lampposts. You and your friends all wore matching costumes, collectively going as the wives of Dracula. It was a good excuse to wear the hottest outfits you could find. Most people paled their skin with white face paint, and molded little pieces of wax to their teeth.

Not you, you wore basically nothing for your costume. Each friend had a different color of fabric, that was loosely draped and cinched around your body. The best way to describe it would be a Greek toga, instead of linen it’s sheer silk, leaving nothing to the imagination. You all wore the same gold collar, a dragon etched on the front; curtesy of the blue bride, Miranda’s, 3D printer.

You didn’t plan on staying, you all agreed to be a part of the parade, once that was over, you were all headed to Zemo’s annual Halloween masquerade. You don’t think he particularly liked having hundreds of people flooding his property every year. But having the biggest house in town was a blessing and a curse. He hosted most festivities for your rather large population of teens and young adults.

You had a fascination with the bachelor. He inherited the mansion, land and money from his grandfather, skipping over his father completely. His family was prominent in the community, both of his parents having a chair at city hall. They volunteered at the food bank and donated to every shelter. Any sane person would think they deserved the money in a way. So why Zemo?

You made it to the party late, everyone leaving the house for the back yard. Zemo had the trees lighted and a dance floor built, always prepared for a celebration. Your friends ditched you as soon as you all got drinks, saying they were going to find their boyfriends. Leaving you to explore the surrounding woods alone.

You nearly drop your red solo cup when you see Zemo pressing Miranda against a tree, practically swallowing each others faces. Tears of betrayal sting your cheeks. She knew you had a crush on him, and she has a boyfriend anyways. You stalk away in anger, losing the trail but not caring. You found a tree far enough from the party that no one would hear your sobs.

You downed the cup filled halfway with vodka, a drop of orange juice for flavor. It dried your tears quickly, leaving your whole body warm. “Stupid.” You say, standing up and brushing the leaves off your dress. “Stupid for liking Zemo.”. You agreed whole heartedly with that. “Stupid for thinking Miranda was my friend.” That’s what hurt the most.

In the midst of your self hate you failed to notice a looming figure. “You’re not stupid.” You jolt, throwing the plastic cup in the direction of the stranger. “Sorry, you scared me.” You giggle, when you see it’s just a guy from the party wearing a phantom of the opera mask.

“It’s okay.” He reaches down and picks up the liter. “Gotta keep our forests clean.” He waves the red in the air. You give him a dry laugh. Men are scary and being alone in the woods with a stranger was causing every alarm in your brain to siren. But the vodka numbed your sense of fear.

“I should get going.” You say, turning and trying to step around the tree. Before you could, the stranger steps closer. “Should you?” He says deeply. He’s close enough now that you can see his piercing blue eyes behind the mask. They render you speechless, the way the moonlight shone off them, put you in a trance. You shake your head, too focused to verbally answer him.

“See, you’re not so stupid after all.” He teases. You have no reaction. His words didn’t fill you with pride or embarrassment. Your veins filled with the distinct warmth of feeling safe. You don’t know where it came from, your body was irrationally reacting to him. You should be shaking with fear and trying to get back to the party, not calmly standing here waiting for something to happen.

It felt like you were locked inside a body that wasn’t yours. It was being controlled by some outside force. You let him reach for you, never flinching away. Your body produced goosebumps where his fingertips grazed your skin. “You’re so beautiful. I’d hate to ruin that.” You nod your head, not even thinking of a single way he could ruin your beauty. Your mind was blank, you couldn’t even say thank you.

“Promise me you won’t resist, once it happens.” You knew nothing of what he spoke, but again you feel your neck bow to him, nodding in agreement. The masked man looks up at the moon, reveling in its fullness. “Are you prepared for no return?” You agree with a nod, now you know you were fully possessed by something. His words should send you running, but a small voice in the back of your head says you would never.

He steps closer again, grabbing fistfuls of your gown, cinched at your waist. “You have to say it. Say I have permission.” His voice was desperate and darker than before. You try to find the words but the influence he had on you was slowly fading, the way he started pressing you against the tree brought you back to your senses. He holds your hips in place as he nuzzles his face into your neck, taking a long deep breath.

The stubble on his chin tickled you and you had to remind yourself yet again that this is a masked stranger in the woods. Even though your senses were coming back, the way his hands lit a fire inside of you was enough to make you not care. That fire pooled lower and lower the closer he got to you. He smelled like a mix of musk and pine. You couldn’t tell if it was him or the trees surrounding you. But it made your mouth water, filling you with a want to taste his skin, just to be sure.

He raises his hand to cradle your cheek, “Please.”. He caught your eyes again, boring into them with an assured look. He focuses on your lips “Just say the words.”.

“I give you permission.” You say them without thinking of the consequences. He sealed your fate by closing the gap between your faces. Pressing his lips to yours. You moved your lips in sync with his, using your free will to wrap your arms around his neck. Before it could go any further the man disappeared. You felt him pull away, when your eyes opened to see why, he was already gone. You searched the surrounding woods with your eyes, there was no sign of him.

You grab your head, wondering if you drunkenly hallucinated. The moisture on your mouth and in your underwear was foolproof evidence that it really just happened. But you still began to question its validity.

You hear a twig snap somewhere near you, in hopes that it was the magnetic stranger you followed it, rounding an old fallen tree you spot a black dog. It was rather large in stature, must be a purebred if it’s that big. You knew an expensive dog wouldn’t be wandering the woods collarless. And you couldn’t remember if Zemo ever mentioned having any pets.

You stepped closer, never fearing animals. You loved dogs, you had a few of your own at your parents house. “Here boy.” You kneel down, reaching out your hand. It finally gives you its attention. Immediately showing his sharp canines, snarling loudly. “Oop.” You stand up and slowly back away, knowing the signs of an agitated dog.

When your view of it is blocked by the tree you turn around and sprint away. Not wanting to receive a rabies shot on Halloween night. You see the lighted trees nearing. That’s when you heard it, rhythmic thumbing coming from behind you. When you turn around you let out a scream, the dog is already pouncing on you, knocking you to the ground. You tray to scramble away. You see people’s feet running towards your screams.

The dog latches its mouth onto your leg, when you try to rip it away it only sinks its teeth deeper. You see Zemo come to your aid with a pool cleaner net, swinging it at the dog. “Get away.” He shouts, he ends up cracking the dog on top of his head with the plastic pole. It yelped, causing your leg to fall out of his mouth. He ran for cover, disappearing into the woods. Zemo drops to his knees beside you, shedding his jacket to wrap it around your bleeding leg.

“Are you okay?” Your eyes full with tears, embarrassment was an understatement. You didn’t want to face Zemo or Miranda. You didn’t want to see all the party goers pity filled faces either. You stood up, sucking a breath between your teeth at the pain. You limped past everyone giving eachother confused glances. Ignoring Zemo and Miranda’s fake concern.

You called your dad, sitting on the curb infront of the house. He rushed you to urgent care, spending the rest of the night with you in the waiting room. You were fine in the morning, a shot and a round of antibiotics set you on your way to recovering. You took ibuprofen for the pain. You called off of work for the rest of the week, needing to stay off your feet.

When you returned the next Monday, your boss told you there was a new bus boy. You waited tables all day before you finally saw him. Clocking in and disappearing to wash dishes. He was cute, dark brown hair and light stubble. He didn’t introduce himself to you or Mary, the other waitress, odd. But you had a feeling the little diner would grow on him eventually.

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quigonswife8 · 1 year

Text

Unexpected visitor: Namor x fem reader

While staying at Zemo's place with Sam and Bucky temporarily, an unexpected person shows up after years.

@namorslit I hope you like this!! I'm sorry it took longer than it should have to get out, but I still do hope you like this. Thank you again for request :)

I checked this over but if there are still mistakes and stuff and I messed up somewhere with the Yucatec Maya, just let me know. Also it's been a while since I've seen The falcon and the winter soldier, and this episode, so it may be a bit different.

-----

When Bucky had broken Zemo out of prison, you had helped.

After moving to New York you had become friends with Bucky pretty quickly. He knows almost everything about you...except for the part about Namor. When Bucky had asked for your help, you had agreed pretty quickly. He trusts you a lot, and you didn't want to let him down.

"Turkish delight?"

Zemo stands in the kitchen, standing in front of the jug. Mixtures of different tea sit in a container near the jug, and you would be lying if you said you didn't want to test out all the different teas.

It's only you, Sam, and Helmut, in the apartment at the moment. Buck is running an errand. Baron looks at Sam, but he shakes his head, so he looks at you. A smile creeps onto your lips, and as you raise your right hand, you reply with:

"I'd love one." He grins at you, before tossing you the chocolate.

"Thank you."

He nods, before turning in the other direction to finishing making yours and his tea, as Sam didn't want one. 'You're missing out' you had joked. Unwrapping the chocolate you toss the wrapper into a nearby bin, popping the treat into your mouth, and leaning back to get more comfortable in the chair.

It may not have been the best option to break Baron out, but he knows a lot about the super soldier serum, and that's your best bet to tracking the remaining vials down. While tracking down the flag smasher's too and more specifically, Karli Morgenthau.

To be honest you don't mind working with Zemo. Despite what other people think, you don't think he's a bad person. Has he made decisions that go against the law? Yes. He was in prison for those reasons. Did he do it for a valid reason? You believe so.

You see where he was coming from, why he did what he did, as you would have done the same for K'uk'ulkan. You would have moved mountains for him if you had the ability to. That's why you are able to work with him, even though a lot of people can't or don't want to.

"Is it good?"

Helmut is approaching holding your tea in his right hand, and his in his left. Swallowing the piece of chocolate, you give him a thumbs up,

"Here."

"Thank you."

You take the cherry blossom tea, while Zemo takes a seat in front of you and gets comfortable. He nods again, and replies with "you're welcome" before taking a sip of his tea.

-A few hours later-

"And then I-"

The sound of knocking stops you mid-sentence. Confused you look at the other's, but they seem to have no clue who this could be. It's not Ayo, and it can't possibly be the flag-smashers, plus Walker has no clue where you are. No one comes to mind, which worries you.

"...I can..."

"I'll get it." reaching for your gun you tuck it away, and as you stand, you look from each of them "...just stay here."

Keeping a hand on your gun you approach the door. Slowly. Whoever is out there may be a threat. The knocking continues, until you get to the door, pressing a hand to it, and taking a deep breath.

"...who's there?"

...silence. Gripping your gun tight you remain there, not daring to open the door until you get something in response. Anything.

"Hello?"

It feels like forever when they finally reply. Though, finally, as in a few seconds later. Their voice is slightly muffled but you still can make it out...you can make him out.

"(y/n)..." and you feel like something hits you in the chest, and you suddenly can't breathe.

It can't be him. No, you had parted ways with him years ago. You had cried over him, had mourned the relationship you had. He may have been the one to end the relationship, but you still feel the blame as to why he had ended it.

Now he stands there. Why is he there though? Shouldn't he be ruling his kingdom? Looking after his people?

"Please open up."

How did he find me?

Sighing you tuck away your gun knowing that you have no use for it. Though you don't open the door, not for a minute. You need a minute to ready yourself to see him again.

Does he look different? He's over 500 years old and ages slowly, he probably looks the same. Is he even there for you, though? He could be there to see the other's which is unlikely but, hey, anything is possible.

Okay

You finally open the door: sliding your hand down to grab the doorhandle, you compose yourself for a few more seconds.

Taking a deep breath, and then opening the door, your eyes fall on him. On your love, and he looks exactly how you remember him: from his soft brown eyes, to his ears that point to the sky, to the way he holds himself.

Three years have passed and he still looks how you remember him. Unable to stop the feeling you still harbor from him slowly come to the surface, you look away from him.

"K'uk'ulkan? What...what are you doing here..?"

"I need you to come with me."

So it was you he wanted to see, and obviously it's important enough to warrant him leaving his kingdom to come all this way. Looking at him again.

"Kin wa'alik ti' teech ba'ax ku yúuchul ts'o'okole', ba'ale' súutuka' k'a'abéet a taal wéetel (I will tell you what's happening after, but right now I need you to come with me)."

You sigh softly.

"Namor..." dragging a hand over your face, you lean a hand on the door.

"I..."

"Is everything alright?"

Bucky

Looking away from him for a moment, you look at Bucky. He looks protective- and if looks could kill. Though you seem to notice how Namor seems to stiffen- how he notices that Bucky is a little too close than he likes. Jealousy, that's it. He has no reason to be jealous, you are no longer together, but that doesn't mean the feelings have disappeared.

"Buck..." you bring a hand to rest one of his arms. "...everything is fine. This is my...this is an old friend." it shouldn't hurt as much as it does when Namor hears you call him just an old friend, but it does.

"What's your friends name?" now he's looking at you again. You sigh softly, forcing a smile to fall on your lips.

"...Namor. His name is Namor." turning back to look at him.

"Namor, this is Bucky. Bucky, Namor."

Neither men are trusting of eachother and you understand that: K'uk'ulkan is the love of your love. Despite everything he's still the love of your life, the person you care for most, and the person you think about most often. Bucky? Bucky is one of your closest friends, and you consider him to be like a brother.

"Okay..." you continue, taking your hand away, and stepping forward a little.

"Now that the introductions are out of the way. Let's just talk first."

"(y/n)." he steps forward, which warrants Bucky to step closer. You look at him, however, letting him know with your eyes that Namor isn't a threat. He never could be.

"I am sorry, ba'ale' le ba'ala' jach páaybe'en (but this is important)." putting emphasis on the 'important'. That may be, but what you are doing, with the whole super soldier thing and tracking down the flag smashers, is important too.

"yéetel le ba'ax táan in meentik xan jach páaybe'en (and what I am doing is important too)." a pause. A soft sigh, and you continue.

"So please let's just talk first. That's all I'll ask of you...please."

3 years ago

"Please don't do this.."

You are near tears, on the verge of breaking down hearing his words.

"I'm sorry in yakunaj (my love), but I have to."

Have to? No. More like he wants to. He wants to end the relationship, because he believes you deserve to be with someone better. Someone human, like you. You deserve to grow old with that person, not with someone who's can live as long as he can. No you deserve to be able to live out the rest of your days with someone better.

"I'm sorry but it is better this way-"

"That's a lie." anger seething through your words, but the sadness breaks through more, and you quickly wipe away the tears.

"...just...please. Please think this over."

He has. He's thought this over many times. You deserve better, and he can't give you that better. As heartbreaking as that is, it's true.

"I have..."

Namor doesn't cry. Even though he wants to. He needs to remain strong, he has to make this quick or he'll change his mind. As he turns back to look at you, you can see in his eyes that he's made his mind up. It hurts like hell, and you cover your mouth to stop the sobs.

Taking a step back, you shake your head.

"No."

He steps forward, but you shake your head again, making him to stop.

"If..." you begin, looking at him again. "...if you think this is best, then I'll just go."

Praying that he'll say 'no' .you get your answer when he looks away. Heart breaking you fall into a step past him, brushing your shoulder against his, and walking to the door. You need to wrap your head around everything and the best place to do it is your home that you rarely live, up on the surface.

You try and find the words to say but end up falling short. Instead you just open the door and leave.

"Okay..."

Namor speaks before thinking. You're right, though. You deserve to hear what he has to say. Especially after...

"Can we talk in private?"

You nod, "we can talk somewhere. I know a place." though, before you leave, you turn back to Bucky. He looks...different. He doesn't look as defensive as before, or protective, but he has a look of something in his eyes that you can't quite place. He looks at Namor, then back to you, and it's now that you realise.

"I'll be inside (n/n)."

He places a hand on your shoulder, a hint of a smile on his lips, and then he leaves you and Namor to be alone again. Clearing your throat you walk down the stairs, soon falling into a step,

"This way." and he follows after you.

----

It's silent when you get to where you had been meaning to take him.

A small hut by the sea that you had stumbled across not that long ago. K'uk'ulkan sits in front of you, while you listen to what he has to say. It's nice, you have to admit. To be able to see him after all these years. To be able to listen to him, reminds you of the past.

He comes to a stop, wanting to hear what you have to say. The distant sound of waves crashing brings you back to reality, and as you look up from your hands, you finally decide to say something.

"So what you're saying is. If I don't return to Talokan with you to be your queen, they will...kill me?"

It makes no sense. Why would they need to kill you? They, as in enimes of K'uk'u'lkan. They had demanded he bring you to Talokan or they would go to the surface world and kill you themselves. Is this some sort of sick game?

"Je'el (yes)."

well, great.

"I did not want to come here and put this burden on your shoulders, but I needed to come here and tell you as soon as possible" so that's why he couldn't say it in front of Bucky, or in front of you, or other people may have heard.

"Well what...what do I..."

You want to help Bucky and the other's with the serum and searching for the flagsmashers, but if your life is on the line, staying isn't the best choice. Not that you're not panicking because you are, you are just doing a good job at hiding it.

"I am sorry. Ma'atech ka'ach dejado ba'ax le ba'ala' sucediera, ba'ale' táan a le máako'ob peligrosas yéetel in woojel ba'ax ma' táan u tuus (I would never have let this happen, but these are dangerous people and I know they are not lying)."

Sucking in a sharp breath, you fight back the tears. So I just leave, then? leave the life you have made for yourself. Leave your friends, leave Bucky? It's hard to process and even harder to think about what your goodbye's are going to be like.

"There are no other options?"

With a head shake, you get your answer.

"...okay..."

The only word you can properly get out at the moment without breaking down. Namor stands up, offering you a hand, to which you find yourself taking.

"I am sorry in ya..." he catches himself before he can call you that term of endearment he used to call you, and instead calls you by your actual name "(y/n)."

"I know..." you blink away the tears. "...but thank you."

You stare blankly at the building in front of you. You have said your goodbyes, though now you can't help but just stare forward. Everything is still processing in your mind, but you haven't broken down and that's a start.

You are about to leave to start your new life in Talokan as the queen of the person you broke up with years ago. It's hard but you need to go because you really do not want to die.

"Are you ready...?"

He is understanding, of course. You look at him, noticing a small smile on his lips: the memories of seeing that smile flash in your mind, but you soon focus back on what you have been.

"Not really..."

You stand there for another minute, then you turn to look at him.

"..but I have to go..." with one last look at the building, you look back at him. "...so let's go."

The two of you soon leaving to go to Talokan.

#Namor #Namor x reader #K'uk'ulkan #K'uk'ulkan x reader #tenoch huerta #wakanda forever

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