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steeeeeeeviebb · 7 months ago
Home from Home (one shot)
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pairing: sam wilson x fem!reader  word count: 6.6 k (SO SORRY) warnings: mild spoilers for episode 5 of tfatws, SMUT (18+!!) , tit play, oral (fem receiving), slight breath play(maybe? if you’d call it that. it’s so brief it’s barely worth mentioning lmao). LOTS OF EMOTION.
Home from Home
Masterlist here
And those dawning eyes brought forth my own sunrise, Well it's been a long time since the beat of my heart was a friend, It's been a long time since I felt I was breathing again. In you I found my home from home, Left all that I knew for a love that I know.
-home from home / roo panes-
There was something about seeing your surname haphazardly scribbled out in his mom’s old pocketbook that made Sam stop dead in his tracks.
He knew it was inevitable, he knew that he would see it as he made his way through the alphabet and yet, as he flipped that page and saw it there, written clear as day, it was as though he’d been sucker punched. It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to go there, since he allowed himself to get lost in what was, in the memories of who he used to be before the world went a little crazy.
Get lost in the memory of you and every emotion under the sun that came with it.
For a few long seconds, Sam’s thumb hovered over the screen of his phone, waiting to punch in the landline of what used to be your house. Of course, he didn’t need to read it off of that page to know it. It had been engraved to his memory, even after all these years. Before cellphones were even attainable, that old landline was everything to him. Even now, he knew that damned number like the back of his hand.
It had been years since the two of you had seen each other let alone spoke to one another. The last he’d checked, you were somewhere in the west coast living a life of your own, and yet that number was still there. Still locked up tight in a memory he couldn’t allow himself to dive into all that often.
You’d been such a massive part of his life, a massive part of him, for so long that reliving those memories just felt too raw, too real, even after all this time.
Do it for the boat, he thought to himself, knowing full well that your dad, who he could only assume still lived in that old house down on Wainscott Terrace, would want to help in the efforts to salvage the boat. Sam’s mom had been like a second mother to you growing up while your dad worked his ass off to make ends meet and he’d always said that if there was anything he could do to repay everything that Mrs. Wilson had done for you that he would in a heartbeat.
This was that favour. Now was his time to help.
And yet, Sam’s thumb still hesitated over the first digit of that goddamn number.
Why? He knew you wouldn’t be there, so why in the hell did he feel like that fifteen-year-old kid all over again? The one that was shit scared to call the cute girl in his history class all those years ago. He was a grown ass man now, a veteran, a fucking Avenger for god’s sake, and yet this felt ten times scarier than any of those missions.
Was it fear? Or was it something else? Something much more unnerving and a lot more complex than your average case of nerves? Of course, he knew, deep down in his gut, that he wasn’t scared of you, scared to dial the number he’d called more often than his own back in the day – no, what swirled around in his gut and settled in his chest felt a lot more familiar than fear.
This feeling he knew all too well.
Aching, near debilitating regret.
Sam Wilson knew regret well. He’d lived with it overseas every single day watching his fellow brothers and sisters fall in an ugly war, he had his own conflicting feelings about Steve’s shield and everything it meant to unknowingly pass that torch on to someone the likes of John Walker. Regret was something he lived with every single minute of every single day and, while he’d be the first one to talk offer guidance to his fellow veterans about the dangers of carrying the burden of guilt, he knew unloading it was easier said than done.
It wasn’t a single event, it was a process. A long, gruelling, often times tedious, process that involved more strength than any one person could fathom.
But the one regret Sam Wilson had that, no matter how often he had tried to rid himself of it, had always been you.
The two of you had always been two peas in a pod since your junior year of high school. Best friends through thick and thin. But, as it often goes, one day that friendship turned into something more. Lingering glances, stolen kisses between classes, you’d lost your virginity to each other during a shitty Nicholas Cage movie in his fucking basement, for crying out loud. 
You’d been each other’s first, swore to be each other’s lasts, and yet somewhere along the way, after finishing up college, none of that came to fruition.  
It was just before his first tour overseas that the relationship came to an abrupt end. You were both nervous, terrified of what was to come, but Sam could feel that fear radiating off of you in waves. How could he put you through that sort of stress? To him, it wasn’t fair to have the woman he loved with his entire being, sick with worry as he was off with the Air Force, putting his life in danger every minute of every day.
So, he did the only thing that made any sense to him at the time. He broke it off with you to save you from that sort of fear, that sort of pain.
There had been a lot of tears, a lot of yelling on your part, trying to get it through his thick head that you were in it for the long haul, no matter what, but he didn’t listen. He wouldn’t do that do you. He couldn’t. Not when you could have some semblance of a normal life here without the worry of whether or not the next phone call you got was going to be a death notice.
So, bleary eyed and heartbroken, Sam Wilson walked away from the one and only woman he’d ever loved.
He’d been tempted to call you over the years, find you on social media and reach out, catch up for some awkward chit-chat about how you’d been doing and how wild of a turn his own life had taken since befriending Steve Rogers, but he always came up with an excuse as to why that wasn’t a good idea. He’d broken up with you that night all, he didn’t have the right to pop out of the woodwork and hit you up after all these years.
So, life continued on in the bizarre way it always had.
Until, of course, the blip happened.
Five years of his life…just gone. He’d woken up one day with two small nephews and woke up the next to two pre-teens and a sister in enough financial debt that it nearly broke him. And then, of course, the decision with Steve’s shield had come in to play in the midst of all of that chaos.
It was game of catch-up that Sam was struggling to play. 
He’d been treading water for all those years, staying just high enough to remain afloat despite the horrors of everything he’d seen but that goddamn blip and the realities that greeted him afterwards was almost enough to drown him.
Almost, but not quite.
Because here he was with a plan. A real plan to give back to Sarah and the boys for everything they had to endure in his absence. If he could turn his boat around, if he could get it into tiptop shape in order to sell, their money problems would be substantially lessened. He was swimming, not just treading the murky waters now, he just needed some manpower to back him.
This phone number, no matter what, meant manpower. It meant another body to help repair and paint and fix up that boat.
And so, releasing a puff of air through his lips, Sam punched in the number he knew like the back of his hand.
In his head, he could still hear your voice on the other end of the phone, just like when you were kids, and that swell of nerves that came as the line picked up was back in full force. He felt like an awkward teenager all over again despite the fact that he knew it was going to be your dad answering.
Man, get a damn grip.
His eyes nearly bulged out of his head when that voice he could hear so vividly from his youth was literally the one on the other line. It was you. Not a pipe dream, not a memory, but the real fucking thing.
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. No words, not even a breath, just an awkward croak from the base of his throat.
“Hello?” You tried again, confusion clear in your tone.
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to regroup. Speak, idiot.
“Y/N,” his voice, despite the swell of nerves in his gut, was impressively smooth all things considering. “It’s Sam.”
There was a beat of silence after that but whether or not it was a mere few seconds or a few hours, he couldn’t tell. How the hell were you here? Why were you home? You were supposed to be somewhere out west not back home at your dad’s place!
“Sam?” Your voice was every bit as beautiful as he remembered it, and Sam fucking hated himself for thinking as much. It had been nearing a decade since the pair of you had spoken to each other, you’d both lead very different lives in that ten years, hell, you could have been married for all he knew. He didn’t have the right to dwell on the sound of your voice. Not anymore. “What…” he heard you release a long, breathy sigh, “how have you been? It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah,” Sam swallowed and licked his increasingly dry lips, “it has been.” He agreed. “I’ve been good, you know, all things considering. How about you?”
You breathed out a quiet laugh. “Good,” you repeated, “all things considering.”
Sam had never been one to hate small talk but this? This, he loathed. Everything about this, the awkward, uncertain pauses, was not you guys. But ten years was a long time, no matter how integral either of you had been in each other’s lives.
“I thought you moved out west?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he plopped himself down on the stool.
“I did,” you told him quietly, “I mean, I was for a few years, but then the blip happened and when I woke up and called my dad, it was his nurse I got instead.” There was another moment of complete silence as Sam’s heart fell into his stomach. “Dementia,” you mused sadly, “hell of a disease.”
Sam’s eyes fell shut as a wave of guilt hit him square in the chest. He’d thought about reaching out to you once he’d woken up but then life happened. First Steve and then the shield and then all of the missions as the Falcon he was still involved in – everything else had just kind of…fallen to the wayside. He was desperate for distractions, desperate to clutter his mind so that the heaviness of everything that had taken place whilst he was in the blip couldn’t fully devastate him.  
“I’m so sorry,” Sam whispered, shaking his head, “I didn’t know.”
“No need to apologize, Sam,” you told him, “you’ve been busy. The world can attest to that.”
There was no bitterness in your tone, no resentment or disdain, but Sam knew there wouldn’t be. Not when it came to you. You’d always had this effortless way about you, this breezy, sincere way about you that had always drawn people in. Hell, it had drawn him in all those years ago.
Sam’s fingers toyed with the corner of his mother’s pocketbook. “How’s your dad now?”
“He has his good days and his bad days,” you told him, “today was a good one. Took him that diner we always used to go to—”
“Fran’s,” a small, barely-there smile pulled at Sam’s lips.
“That’s the one,” you laughed, “and he ordered his favourite milkshake and some fries without hesitation. He remembered where we were for most of the time we were there, got a little confused towards the end, but I’ll take it as a win.”
Your dad, despite working all of the time to make ends meet, was just as big of part of Sam’s life as you had been. He was a good man, a devoted man, and he’d always done his best to do right by you which only made Sam respect him more so to hear this, that your dad was suffering of dementia, only made Sam’s guilt grow.  
Words didn’t seem good enough in that instance. Nor did a lousy phone call after going ghost for a decade. You’d been such a massive part of Sam’s life, of Sarah’s life, that this entire conversation felt so…unnatural.
“Sam,” you muttered after another round of awkward silence, “not that it’s not great to hear from you but, I have to ask, why are you calling my dad’s landline?”
Seemingly coming to his senses, Sam released a quiet, awkward laugh and ran his thumb along his forehead. “Right,” he murmured, “I mean, I was calling to see if your dad would want to help get the boat ready to sell. I’m calling the entire town, calling in all those favours for my mom.”
Another awkward silence.
“You’re…selling the boat?” Disappointment and awe weaved through your every word. You knew just as much as he did the amount of memories that took place on that boat were irreplaceable. “Sarah never mentioned that.”
Sam gaped out of the window he’d been sitting in front of. “Sarah?” He asked. “Sarah knew you were here?”
“Yeah,” you pushed out slowly, confused, “I had coffee with her last week.”
Son of a bitch. At the sudden mention of her name, the very devil herself poked her head around the corner looking every bit as confused as Sam felt. Mouthing your name as he pointed to the phone, Sarah did a horrific job at concealing her small, guilty smile as she shrugged her shoulders. Sam narrowed his eyes in disdain and shot his sister a less than amused look. “She never mentioned that.”
“Well, I can’t guarantee my dad will be up for it, but I’ll be there.”
Sam’s eyes widened as he turned away from Sarah to face the window. “I wouldn’t want to take you away from your dad, Y/N,” he reasoned, “it could take—”
“Your mom meant a lot to me, too, Sam,” you interjected, “I owe your entire family a lot. I’ll be there.”
A tension he hadn’t been aware he’d been carrying in his shoulders seemed to relax momentarily. “I appreciate that.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sam,” you muttered. He could hear the smile in your voice. “It’s good to have you home.”
Before he could even think of coming up with a reasonable response to that, you’d hung up, leaving him to dumbly stare out of the window.
He was going to see you tomorrow.
“You didn’t think to mention that she was back in town?” Sam asked, knowing full well his sister was still watching his every move from her place in the kitchen.
“And miss you giggling like a little school girl?” She beamed across at him. “Not on your life.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I hate you, you know that?”
“Love you, too.” Was all she said before disappearing around the corner.
You felt like you were going to throw up.
You were a grown woman, you’d walked the path along the pier a thousand times before this and yet today, the path felt endless. You felt as though you were on autopilot as you laughed and made small talk with the people in your hometown who had all shown up for the very same reason you had.
You were all there to help out the Wilson’s, the very heart of your seaside town. They had been like a second family to you as a kid up until you were an adult. They had meant everything to you, each one of them, and yet you were sure you were going to pass out.
Ten years had passed since you’d last seen him. Sam. The boy, and eventual man, who had been your entire world once upon a time. He’d been your first love, your first everything, really, and the idea of seeing him after all these years was enough to incite a minor conniption fit.
You’d seen him on the news, of course, along with the rest of the Avengers every few months, but that wasn’t the same as this. As coming face to face with the very man you’d once loved so wholly that losing him nearly broke you.
Of course, you held no ill will towards Sam. You couldn’t if you’d tried, to be honest. He’d ended things because he thought he was doing right by you. He was a scared twenty something year old kid who was going to war, you couldn’t fathom that sort of responsibility, that sort of commitment, but he had been devoted to the cause.
For as long as you’d known him, Sam Wilson, despite his quick, sassy wit and casual demeanour, gravitated to those in need. It’s what made him enlist, you could only imagine it’s what made him become an Avenger, it’s what made you fall in love with him in the first place.
His heart was pure gold. 
He was relentlessly kind – smart assed and incredibly infuriating when he wanted to be – but compassionate and true above all else. In his head, all those years back, he had to leave. He was doing what he thought was right and, even if had broken you at the time, you couldn’t fault him for that. You wouldn’t.
But that didn’t mean that walking towards the very ship the two of you had christened in all ways possible, didn’t scare the hell out of you.
And then you saw him and you quite literally felt your entire chest squeeze with an emotion you hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell on in years. He was talking to someone who looked relatively familiar, undoubtedly someone from his Avenging life, and hadn’t quite noticed you standing there, gawking across at him in mild panic. But, god, he looked good.
His shoulders were relaxed, despite scrubbing tirelessly at the pane beneath him, and that gorgeous smile of his was ever-present as he gabbed on and on.
It was as though you’d been hit by a freight train as you stood there, frozen in place.
This wasn’t you. You were confident, you were cool as a cucumber in most situations, so what the hell was this?
“Y/N,” a familiar voice called out from your left. Snapping your head around, grateful for the distraction, you came face to face with Sarah who couldn’t have look more amused if she tried. “You good?”
You blinked and smacked on what you hoped was a breezy smile. “So good,” you ensured, waving your hand noncommittally, “are you good?”
Sarah was giving you a small, knowing smile. “I’m good,” following your line of sight, she spotted Bucky and Sam and felt her smile grow. “Enjoying the view?”
Blowing out a raspberry, you made a show of looking off into the horizon. “Yeah, I mean, the water’s always gorgeous this time of year.”
“Right,” she grinned, “the water.”
Glancing across at the woman you slowly released a heavy sigh as your shoulders fell. She knew you too well at this point, there was no point in lying. “Why do I feel like I’m seventeen all over again?”
Sarah merely laughed and threw her arm around your shoulders as she guided you towards where her brother and Bucky sat on the boat. “Come on,” she laughed, “no time like the present.”
You followed her blindly, going over every possible scenario in your head in a mild panic as Sam drew closer and closer. All at once, years of memories began to surface as you got a better look at him. He’d obviously filled out over the years, that much you had seen in the media, but seeing him here seeming him up close was so vastly different that it caught you off guard. Gone was the skinny kid you’d fallen in love with, the Sam you approached now was all man. He just seemed…so much bigger. His shoulders were wider, his arms buffer, his thighs, the same thighs that you could recall raking your fingernails up and down, something you knew drove him crazy, were thick from years of muscle building on account of his new life.
What hadn’t changed, however, were those eyes. Those gorgeous brown eyes that knew you better than anyone ever had. And, as those eyes flitted over his dark-haired friend over towards his sister only to eventually befall on you, your breath escaped you in one fell swoop.
Words, idiot, use your fucking words!
But no words came. None that deemed worthy enough, at least. So, you remained standing there, smiling across at him like the idiot you were until finally, your brain registered with your mouth.
“Hey, Sam,” you pushed out.
Any and all mirth that had once been on his face as he spoke to his friend was long gone now as he stood up to his full height, clearly shocked to see you in the flesh. The man beside him, clearly just as surprised to see Sam’s demeanour change in the blink of an eye, furrowed his brow as he looked between the two of you with confusion splayed out on his face.
He said your name quietly, just barely above the gust of wind that blew over across the boat, but you’d hear it all the same. You felt it. Every letter of your name seemed to coat your skin in a way that only Sam had the ability of doing.
His eyes scraped up and down your frame in that moment, committing it to memory before meeting your eyes once again. His adams apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed back the nerves that he’d been stewing on for the better part of twenty-four hours. “It’s good to see you,” he smiled, “you look good.”
It was so stupid that after all of this time, after years of new experiences with other men, years of growing and nurturing your needs and becoming the woman you were today, that that goddamned smile was still enough to make your knees buckle. “So do you,” matching his smile, you soaked the man in and laughed, “I mean, obviously. You probably knew as much.”
Grinning, Sam ducked his head only to catch Bucky’s amused stare. With a lazy smile of his own, Bucky pushed himself up to his full height and walked towards you. “Bucky,” he introduced, shaking your hand.
You gave him your name and caught Sam’s stare over his shoulder. “I should let you guys finish up, is there anywhere you wanted me to—”
“You stay-put,” Bucky insisted with a subtle wink, “there’s some guys over there that look like they’re struggling with one of the motors.”
“Oh, and you know how to fix a motor all of the sudden?” Sam asked, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah,” Bucky simply said, “I do.” Looking back at you, he gave you another quick smile before taking his leave. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit, Sam.”
You turned and watched him leave for a brief moment just as Sarah made some half-assed excuse to get the hell out of dodge herself leaving you and Sam alone for the first time in a decade.
For a few brief moments, it was awkward as all hell. The idle chatter of those around you bled into the background noise of the ocean, but all you could focus on was the man in front of you. He was so much older than the man you knew, he’d been through so much, seen so much horror and so many truly incredible things on account of being an Avenger that there were bits of him you were almost sure were brand new. Just as there were parts of you that were foreign to him.
In those moments, the two of you were strangers, two people who happened to be on the same pier, working on the same boat, and nothing more. Pushing out an awkward laugh, you rubbed your forehead and gave him an apologetic smile. “This is weird, right?”
“Weird as hell,” he agreed with a laugh. But then that small, sweet smile you knew so well broke out across his handsome face as he offered you a small rust coloured sander. “You want to help me sand this thing?”
Stepping onto the boat, you snatched the rough paper out of his hands and nudged him with your shoulder as you took a seat where Bucky had been sitting only moments prior. “Throw in a beer and I’m game.”
“There she is,” Sam remarked as he pulled two beers out of the cooler. When the two of you were situated on either side of the rail, Sam peered up at you through his eyelashes only to catch you taking a much-needed sip of beer.
You were the same woman he’d always known, he knew that much, but you were older now, wiser in a subdued way. Time had been kind to you but there was a weariness in your stare that was new, an exhaustion that seemed to be on everyone’s face since coming back from the blip. But you were still you. Still the same gorgeous woman he’d spent his adolescence fawning over and his young adult life loving.
When you caught his stare as you finished with your gulp, he was thankful he was already seated because that smile would have knocked him clear on his knees.
“So, catch me up on all things Sam,” you muttered, getting to work. “I know you’ve got some stories.”
Sam breathed out a quiet laugh through his nose. “Where do I start?”
Your eyes found his and, for a fleeting second, you saw the boy you’d fallen in love with staring back at you. “At the beginning.”
Hours had passed after that in the blink of an eye. Sam told you story after story about everything he’d seen in the last ten years, minus the five years lost in the blip, and you filled him in on everything in your life that had taken place before and after the snap.
It took no time at all for the pair of you to fall back into the swing of things, not long at all, and before either of you knew it, night had washed over the sleepy seaside town leaving just the two of you on that boat.
You weren’t sure where the time had gone, if you were being honest, but talking with Sam made the hours fly by. He’d seen so much, endured so much in the last decade between his time overseas and his time with the Avengers that it made your stories seem like piddly little anecdotes and yet Sam listened, hanging onto your every word as though you were weaving a fairy-tale rather than catching him up on your mundane life out west.  
He was still very much the same man you’d always known, just older. Wiser. Bigger. Yet he still wore that same cologne you’d got him for one of your anniversaries back in college. It was Tom Ford and smelling it on him as he sat so close to you after all these years was almost surreal. You’d caught whiffs of it on other man over the years or a quick smell whenever you’d walk through the perfume section of a store, but smelling it on him, on your Sam, was a sensory overload.
And yet, despite everything, sitting there with each other, catching up, re-learning all there was to know about the other, was easy. Possibly the easiest thing you’d ever done, if you were being honest. There were no awkward pauses, no idle small talk, nothing at all to make this experience anything less than seamless.
There was laughter, there were tears, and then there was rain. Lots and lots of rain. Heavy pellets that soaked you both to the bone as you scrambled to get anything that could get damaged inside the hull of the boat.
Breathless, you collapsed on the heap of crates and wiped at your brow as Sam steadied himself on the stool by the controls of the ship. “Forecast definitely didn’t call for rain,” you laughed, ringing your hair out onto the floor beneath you.
Sam couldn’t quite match your smile as his eyes raked over your frame. The shirt you had been wearing was clinging to you on account of the rain, making your breasts strain against the thin material of your top. In a blurry array of memories, he could see himself in this very spot, dragging his mouth across your pert nipples as you rode him on top of the very stool he now sat on. He could feel his hands curling into your hips, kneading at your ass, feel your entire body shake and bounce on top of him as he held onto you for dear life.
But that was a lifetime ago. The two of you might have christened every inch of this ship once upon a time but now was not the time to dwell on that.
“I probably have an old sweater in here you can throw on,” Sam swallowed, averting his eyes to the ground out of respect as he pawed around for anything you could throw on. The night had dipped down in temperature and the last thing he wanted was for you to get sick on account of him.
“Don’t worry about it,” you laughed, “unless you have a towel, so I don’t soak your floor any more than I already have.”
“I’m not too worried about the floor,” he chuckled, “it’s seen worse.”
You caught his eye and managed a small, knowing smile. “It’s definitely seen some things.”
When you saw Sam’s eyes widen as that sly smirk broke out across his face, you knew his mind went to the same place yours had. “Man,” he shook his head in disbelief, “I still can’t believe you’re here.”
“You’re telling me.” Eyeing the familiar room, you shook your head at the amount of memories that came flooding back. “I’d hate to see this boat go. There’s just so many memories in here.”
Sam swallowed hard. Too many memories. And, having you this close but so incredibly far all the while being bombarded with these memories was almost enough to kill him. Not being able to take his eyes off of you, Sam swallowed hard and nodded. “That it does.”
You caught his eye from across the room and tried for a smile. He looked so raw, so real, standing there in the dim lighting of the cabin that you struggled to breathe for a few seconds. Sam Wilson might have been the Falcon to the rest of the world, an Avenger, a soldier, an enigma to most – but this man, the one eyeing you in a way that made your stomach flutter the way only he could, was just Sam to you. Your Sam.
Licking your lips, you crossed the threshold of the cabin and swallowed back your nerves as Sam braced himself on the stool. On instinct alone, his hands circled your hips, holding you between his strong thighs as those dark eyes soaked you in.
You didn’t dare reach out to touch him yet, not when you were still trying to register the last twenty-four hours, but feeling his hands through your jeans, having his cologne waft all across your skin as you stood so close to him was enough to make you dizzy.
With trembling fingers, you reached out and gently ran your fingers along his chest. You could feel his heart pounding beneath your fingers as searched his warm stare and, as you raked your fingers gently up his chest, across his shoulders and up his neck to cradle his jaw, you watched those gorgeous eyes flutter close as he once again tried to commit this exact moment to memory.
He whispered your name so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “If we take this any further,” his eyes slowly opened as his thumb drew tiny circled into your skin at the hem of your shirt. “I won’t be able to stop myself.”
Ducking your head so that your foreheads were touching, you released a shaky breath. “Who says I want you to?”
In a single, blinding second, your lips met his in a bruising kiss. The kiss was intense, needy, and his hands were desperate to pull you as close to him as humanly possible as he sat on that stool the same way he had all those years ago. You were both dripping wet on account of the rain but the need to get closer, to feel more of each other, won over as Sam’s hands busied themselves kneading your ass through your jeans.
Fisting a handful of his shirt, you all but yanked it over his head, breaking the kiss for only a second before throwing the material clear across the room, anything to get closer to the man you adored so wholly. You could feel each strain of muscle beneath your fingers, feel the scars mattering his skin from the years of battles he’d endured thus far.
Scraping his hands up from your hips and up the sides of your stomach, Sam peeled the thin shirt off of your body and yanked one of the cups of your bra down to release your breast. Wasting no time at all, his hot mouth enveloped your pert nipple and the moan he got out of you on account of it made his cock twitch in his jeans.
He’d thought about you for so long, about this: tasting you, feeling you, having you all too himself again that now that the moment was actually here, it was all he could do not to rush it.
His mouth was methodical on your nipple, coaxing it and lapping it up as he sucked and nipped at your tit, taking his time with each one as his hands fiddled with the button of your jeans.
“Sam,” you moaned out, throwing your head back as you stood between his thighs, “fuck.”
His arms, like towers, flipped you around in the blink of an eye so that you now leaned haphazardly against the stool as he got to work on yanking your jeans down the lengths of your thighs. “I have thought about doing this,” he breathed out, releasing your nipple to place sloppy, wet kisses down your stomach, “for ten damn years.”
You laughed and watched him kneel between your thighs. “Five of those years we were stuck in the blip, so I’m only half honoured.” Reaching out to ghost your fingers across his stubbly cheeks, you grinned down at him and ran your thumb along his lower lip. “But, me too.”
Tossing your jeans across the cabin to join your long-forgotten shirt, Sam tugged your thong to the side and buried his face in your sopping pussy. Your breath hitched in your throat as you reached behind you to lean back against the control panel to avoid falling clear off the stool. His tongue was slow at first as he lapped at your slick folds, but as your moans became grittier, your breathing heavier, his pace only sped up as he began to suck and moan into your pussy.
“Fuck,” you cried out, chest heaving, “oh my god, Sam.”
His long fingers squeezed at your thighs, pulling you closer into his face as he buried himself inside of you. You tasted so fucking good, just as sweet as he remembered, and as he flung your thighs over his shoulders to allow him full access to that perfect pussy of yours, Sam could have come on the spot.
He wanted you so bad, needed you in every way, shape, and form.
You were close, he knew as much. He could still recall the way your body would quiver before an orgasm ripped through your entire body. Your moans became a little more primal, your breathing more laboured and you always managed to tighten your thighs around his head in a way that would nearly choke him each and every time.
He fucking loved it.
Loved you. Even still, after all these years.
Your body began to quiver and, just as they always had, those perfect thighs tightened around his head as he gave your clit one long, hard suck as you finally allowed an orgasm to take hold of your entire body.
Peering up at you from between your thighs, Sam caught your eye as you watched him tongue fuck you into oblivion. You were moaning his name, begging him to stop as your climax ripped through your body and, just as you couldn’t take another suck, Sam pushed himself up and met you in a sloppy kiss.
You could taste yourself all over his lips, feel your slick on cheeks and his chin, but all you could focus on was getting those fucking jeans off of him. Working on his buttons, and then his zipper, you tugged his jeans down those muscled thighs and nearly gasped when he buried his throbbing cock inside of your raw pussy.
Your fingernails dug into the flesh of his ass as you wrapped your thighs around his slim waist, pulling him into you with each primal thrust. He filled you up so good, he always had, but after all these years your body reacted to him in ways you couldn’t begin to fathom.
He whispered your name as he nipped at your neck and the sound of it alone was enough to bring you back to a place of comfort, a place of pure pleasure.
It brought you back home.
Even after all these years, all that time spent apart, after that god-forsaken blip, Sam Wilson was still home to you.
“I’ve missed you so much,” you admitted, kissing his shoulder as he continued to pound into you with enough force to render you breathless. “So fucking much, Sam.”
Pulling away from your neck, Sam’s hips stilled for just a moment as he tenderly cradled your face in his large hands. He said nothing for a moment, but the look on his face, the look in his eyes, said everything he couldn’t.
“You don’t have to say anything,” you hushed, nudging his nose up to get a better angle at his lips. “I just…needed you to hear that.”
“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he avowed, leaning his forehead against yours. “You hear me? Not this time. Not without you.”
He kissed you then, slowly, as if his life depended on it and you kissed him right back. For the first time in a decade, Sam felt lighter than he ever had. He felt a sense of belonging, a sense of ease.
A sense of peace.
Sam was home.
With you, Sam was home.
maybe yall wanna read?: @krissology @jettia @artsymaddie @onfiretakemehigher @astral-violet @frankiemorales @rae-gar-targaryen @lascatederals @thebakerstboyskeeper @pedrothirst @oh-oh-ophelias @xxlovingfandomsxx @ms-fatally-yours @chasingdreamer @blackberries45 @blogbykate @rosiefridayrogersunday @cloud-of-roses​ @dindjarinsriduur​
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owpeanuts · 7 months ago
Synopses: Before you go to Sharon's party, your mom calls to you. You have to say to the boys that they can go ahead and after you'd follow them so you can answer your mother’s call. However, little do you know that in the middle of your conversation with your mother, Zemo would check if you were fine.
Word count: 2,2K~
Warnings: fluff, slow burn, (there is no kiss, so sorry but it’s a cute conversation, I swear!) and GN!READER
A/N: First of all, English isn't my first language, so I hope that everything is okay or understandable. Second, the reader is a portuguese speaker, I did not specify their home country but I based on mine when I wrote the dialogue.
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You looked to yourself in the mirror one last time, glad to be wearing something more you than the strange clothes that Zemo made you dress in that bar. A smile took over your lips, you never knew that you would miss so much your clothes as you missed one or two hours ago.
"Y/N" Sam called you as he knocked on the door, making sure that you hadn't died inside the bathroom, "We have to go the party or did you forget about it?"
"Don't be silly" you opened the door, don't forgetting to catch your phone next to the sink, "I was busy"
"Busy with what?" Bucky raised an eyebrow as you left the bathroom and opened your arms.
"Appreciating myself" you winked to him, "To look good, you have to know that you look good, see?"
"They are right" Sharon pointed to you and your look.
Sam bursted into laughter when he saw Bucky rolling his eyes and muttering about this not making any sense. You chuckled with Bucky's reaction as well and by the corner of your eyes, you noticed Zemo gazing at you, it seemed like he was analyzing you. Maybe, if you looked away, he'd stop but you discovered that you were wrong.
You could feel his eyes burning your skin, whatever Bucky, Sam and Sharon were talking about you were incapable of comprehending, your mind just seemed interested in the sensation of being observed. In an instant, you stared at him back, raising your eyebrows like who’d ask if there was something funny in your face, but you didn’t expect to see Zemo grin as your eyes collided with his. God, was he wanting attention? You questioned yourself as you rolled eyes, because if he was, he was getting it.
Perhaps, as he noticed your annoyance, Zemo tilted his head like he was greeting you or just intensifying his analyses of you, you couldn’t guess which one. You shrunk the bridge of your nose in a grimace, you didn’t like the idea of this guy thinking something about you, not when you didn’t know what it was. He could be remembering your last look or the way you were in a state of unawareness back in that bar, there were too many things that he could be thinking of.
Before your cleared confusion, Zemo smirked at you. Oh my God, you would kill him, you didn’t care about the prison, if you had a minute alone with him, you would punch this guy. You didn’t see what was funny about your face to the baron being chuckled in such a soft way.
The vibration coming from your phone snapped you out of your thoughts, it got you some second to notice that it was your mother calling you.
Shit, she would kill you through the goddamn phone.
"Are you coming, Y/N?" Bucky asked, he and the others were already going downstairs.
"You can go ahead" you forced a smile, trying to not seem nervous, "I'll catch you later, give me a minute"
It got a second or two to the boys and Sharon agreed to this and left you alone, you sighed loudly before you answered the call.
“Where are you, Y/N?” Your mother questioned even before you could say a hello, from behind her voice, you heard the voices of your uncle and father. Goddammit, they were all in the same room? What bad luck of yours.
“What do you mean where I am, mãe? Mom?” you blinked and pressed your eyes, correction yourself after switching languages accidentally. Because of your mom, you grew up learning how to speak the language of your home country, so you were used to switch up while talking with her, “I don’t know if you remember, but I am an independent adult”
“Ah, cala a boca (Oh, shut up)” you raised your eyebrows surprised with the tone of your mom, she was obviously angry, “You are not in your house, your uncle didn’t saw you there. So I am asking again, where you are?”
Of course your uncle would decide to visit you right now, when you were in another country secretly. Why wouldn’t him?
“Tell Tio Bruce (Uncle Bruce) that I’m fine. I’m in a friend’s house” you circled yourself, turning your backs to the stairs and fixing your eyes in one of Sharon's paintings. 
“He told me that you are lying” the voice of your mothers became more angrier, and there were you thinking that it was impossible for her to be more irritated than the usual, “Você não tem amigos, Y/N (You don’t have friends, Y/N)”
“Well, fala para o tio que ele não (Tell to uncle that he doesn’t)... He doesn’t know me too well as he thinks he does” you bite your tongue when you notice that you were speaking in portuguese again, “I can have friends”
“Então (So)...” you could listen to your mom making that face that she usually does when she knows that you are lying, “You are telling us that you have nothing to do with that prisoner that broke out of prison?”
Shit, shit, shit…
“Que prisioneiro, mãe? (Which prisoner, mom?)” you tried to sound confused, totally ignoring the sound of steps coming from the stairs behind you. As long as you would be speaking portuguese, nobody would understand what you were talking about.
“Você sabe qual prisoneiro muito bem, Y/N! (You know which prisoner, Y/N!)” you looked above your shoulders, planning to just see quickly who was the person coming from the party. You almost choked when you saw Zemo, speaking on the Devil… He widened his eyes, how this was his way of asking what was the matter, but you just gestured with the other hand a simple go away, “That guy that… O cara de Sokóvia que explodiu a ONU e desgraçou a vida dos seus amigos (The sokovian guy that blew up the UN and made your friend’s lives a living hell)” 
For God’s sake, you pressed your fingers against your eyelids, didn’t knowing exactly how to answer this. At least, Zemo shouldn’t comprehend portuguese, right?
“Ah, sim, aquele cara… Ele escapou da prisão? Que porra? (Oh, that’s guy, right… And he broke out of the prison? What the fuck?)” you tried your best to sound the most casual as possible, still trying to ride off from Zemo, but he didn’t seem to care about you wanting him to leave you alone. He was patiently waiting for you to finish the call, holding his hands in the front of his body while raising an eyebrow, “Não sabia (I didn’t know)”
“Tá’ me dizendo que não sabe nada do sokoviano louco que fugiu misteriosamente da prisão? Que você não está por trás disso? (So you're telling me that you know nothing about the crazy sokovian that mysteriously broke out of the prison? That you have nothing to do with this?)” your mom didn’t was sounding like she was buying any of your fake confused tone.
“Não… (No)” you insisted, still hearing murmurs coming from your uncle and father, “Mãe, cê’ acha mesmo que eu estaria por trás da fuga desse cara sendo que ele é um criminoso? (Mom, do you really think that I’d be behind this guy breaking out? He is a criminal)” you asked the question, pretending that you were talking about any bullshit and not discussing about the guy that were some inches of distance from you, watching you carefully.
“Fine, fine” your mom didn’t seem to be saying this to you, but for the other figures in the house and listening to the conversation, “Você sabe que nós só nos preocupamos com você, né? Só acabamos vendo a notícia e lembrando do que aconteceu com você e os seus amigos (You know that we’re just worry about you, right? We saw the news about this and we remembered what happened to you and your friends)”
“I know, I understand” you spoke in english, knowing that your uncle and father would hear you, “I am fine, I’ll talk to my friend and I see about this, okay?”
“Okay” your mom sighed, “Se cuida (Look after yourself)”
“You too” you ended the call and put the phone in one of your pockets.
You had almost forgotten about the presence of the baron. Zemo still was next to you, waiting for you to finish your conversation. Maybe the boys got worried about you and sent him to check you, or he sent himself.
“What?” you questioned anyways, noticing his eyes narrowing at you.
“Family?” he asked and pointed to the phone that wasn’t in your hands anymore.
You furrowed eyebrows, how would he even know this?
“My mom was asking me about what to buy for the house” the lie slipped through your tongue like it was a simple thing, something too far to not be true. Anyone would have bought this one lie, but you observed that Zemo didn’t.
“You know that I speak portuguese, right?” the baron took a step close.
“No, you don’t” you crossed your arms, even if you were starting to question yourself if he was really lying. Anyone who listened to you or your mom speaking in portuguese for the first time, always asked if it was spanish. For some reason, americans or some europeans seemed to like to switch the two languages.
“Na verdade, eu sei, sim (Actually, yes, I know)” Zemo chuckled, shaking his head while his eyes kept fixed on you, he stopped at your side and in front of this one painting, “Tive aulas (I had classes)”
“Of course, you did” you rolled your eyes, looking away from him and sliding your eyes back to the classic painting, “Burguês de merda”
“I know that you called me in a mean way to say show off” if Zemo was offended, he didn’t let it show, he just said it in a mockery tone, “Your family sounded worried, they knew about me getting out of prison, didn’t they?”
“Maybe” you mumbled, “It’s not of your business, anyway”
“I’m aware” Zemo got his hands up, “I just think it was cute, they calling you to know if you were fine”
“Cute?” Confused, you turned your face back to him and he nodded, proving that you had not heard wrong, “Do you think it is cute that they are worried about the idea of me helping you?”
“I think it’s cute the fact that you also is worried for them, of what they might think if they discovers that you aren’t with a friend” Zemo shrugged and draw his way closer to you, pointing, “I remember of you swearing to Sam that if you died here, your family would kill us”
The mention of the moment made you remember this as well, the four of you were running through the streets of Madripoor, running away from the bounty hunters. You had one of your knives aimed in a random guy’s eyes while you shouted this to no one in specific but it was Sam who answered you, assuring you that he didn’t doubt of this. In the next moment, someone covered you before a shot could have hit you, you didn’t see who it was exactly because of the chaos. However, now you noticed that it was Zemo.
Was he thinking about this when he glanced at you?
“What can I say” you tried your best to hold a smile, but it didn’t work, “I care about my friends and my family”
“You may not know…” Zemo hesitantly raised his hand and held your right shoulder, “But you caring about the people you know is what makes you an interesting person to be around” you opened and closed your mouth, just letting your breathe out, you didn’t know what to say in answer. You felt his hand warm your shoulder and before you could even cover it with yours, he quickly stepped back, “They are waiting for you down there”
Your feet were frozen into the floor as you saw the baron making his way back to the downstairs. You bitted your bottom lip, thinking in how stupid you were being just because of a couple of words that came from Zemo’s mouth. Although, you forced yourself to take Zemo’s pace, approaching him before his foot stopped in the first step of the stairs.
“I think you also are an interesting person to be around, don’t you” The corners of your lips curved up, you felt a ray of joy fill you when you noticed that you got Zemo off guard.
So, you only passed by him, going downstairs, like you had said nothing three seconds ago. Zemo watched your back with locked eyes, containing himself to not laugh at what happened. You just proved his point, you were a funny person to be around.
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owpeanuts · 6 months ago
Synopses: You, Sam, Bucky and Zemo back up again in a new mission. During this mission, an unexpected event makes the four of you split in duos and you see yourself trapped in the middle of a forest with Zemo.
Word count: 5,5K~
Warnings: angst, hurt & comfort(?), swearing, slow burn, enemies to lovers(ish), haphephobia (the fear of being touch or touching other people) and reader throwing up
Inspiration: Snow — Ricky Montgomery
A/N: English isn't my first language, so I hope that everything is okay
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Your nightmare starts as always.
You can't feel your face, black points cloud your sight, stopping from you to being able to see where you are. As you step further in this dark place, voices echo through the strange and large hall, all of them seem to grab in your ears just like a beat of a drum.
They are all claiming something. At first, it's difficult to understand why, the voices are loud and getting one above the other, competing for which one shouts more. But, after some seconds walking through them, you can understand what they are screaming, making your eardrums twist in pain.
Their faces. They want their faces back. Now, you can feel their mouths nearing their ways to your ears while their fingers hold your hands and wrists tightly, trying to push you from different directions. You try to hold yourself in place, shouting back that you don't understand, if you let them go, you sense that they could rip you apart.
Their fingers drill through your skin, now you are the one screaming as you feel blood rolling down your hands. But, they don't let your screams be the loudest ones. As the point of their fingers go further in your skin and flesh, it's impossible not to listen to what they are saying in unison.
"Give my face back, give my face back…"
The request is repeated over and over again. Each time you recognize a new voice. They are all someone that you shaped into once, mimicking their appearances and their voices, even when most of them you just made up from nothing. They were there, they were real.
Their touch is just like poison. You can feel the pain spread through your hands and the screams start to get caught in your throat as you can't breathe anymore. It has become difficult to breathe for yourself and it takes you some seconds to understand why.
Your body is giving all its attention to morphing. Everytime you recognize one of them voices, you immediately distort into that person. However, you still can't feel your face and as you alter over and over again, this emptiness spreads through your body along the pain.
Until, you can't feel anything. But the pain.
You give a last scream, not just in horror, but trying to get air before it's too late.
So, you wake up.
The sudden pain in your back makes your eyes open almost immediately, you need to take a whole minute for your vision to get less blurry and comprehend where you are. There are trees everywhere around you, the sun is upon your face and its bright rays feel like it could blind you.
At first, you don’t remember why you are here, in the middle of an unknown forest, but when the pain on your back spreads to your legs, it gets difficult to not remember.
You, Bucky, Sam and Zemo were infiltrating the Dark Avenger’s aircraft. The plan should be simple, you would split through the big jet, destroy their control and stop them from sending bombs to the continent. After, if this part of the plan works, the next step would be to get the parachutes and get the fuck out before exploding their aircraft. A really simple plan, but it all went wrong. It was difficult for you to recall when it all started to fall apart. 
It was difficult for you to recall when it all started to fall apart.
Maybe it was because John Walker was already ten steps ahead of you.
Or when “the bad Spider-Man” took Sam and Bucky out before you could even reach them.
Or, when Lady Hydra threw you out of the airship.
Well, maybe it was all of that combined.
You would have died with the fall, but your fingers got tangled with some part of the jet, trying to hold tighter and not look down and suddenly…
There was Zemo.
“Good, you are alive'' speak of the Devil… You turn your face slowly in the direction of his voice, trying your best to not let a snorf escape from your lips, “If you died, Sam and James would certainly put the blame on me”
Narrowing your eyes, you remember what happened before you fell. Helmut had jumped towards you with a parachute on his back, pushing the two of you out of the jet. You remember that the parachute almost didn’t open.
“For Saints, you” you look to your hands, confirming that you still were wearing your gloves. As you try to get up, but the pain in your back gets worse, “Why did it have to be you?”
It's a surprise for no one your hatred for the Baron. Ever since Bucky broke him out of that prison in Berlin, you made it very clear. Always giving him stoic and irritated looks, never having a word with him or barely bearing his presence when you were in the same room. However, even Sam presumed that the things were getting better between you two as the days went by, neither him or Bucky would dare say that you were growing up some kind of friendship, but you were starting to get along.
But something happened in Riga. You never told your friends exactly what happened between you and Zemo, but they noticed that your cool relationship with each other had regressed back to nothing.
Even when you needed the Baron’s help again after what happened in Riga, they couldn’t get any explanation about what happened between you both.
“If you are asking about saving your life” Zemo approaches you, letting you view him better. He was wearing his usual coat, his purple mask was resting in one of his hands. There were some bruises over his face but nothing serious, maybe just his right leg since he was limping, "Your friends went down because of that ‘Venom’, I only had time to save you. I couldn't fight my way through to Sam or Bucky”
“And let me guess” you sigh, clearly annoyed, your eyes sliding to the parachute that was tangle in the trees above you, “I fell when the parachute got stuck”
“Well, at least the fall did not affect your head” he crouches until your level, “But, yes”
Hesitant, Zemo holds out his hand in your direction, his eyes showing doubt behind his dark brown tone. You swallow dryly, looking at his hand while feeling a metallic shiver raises its way through your spine and works its way to your own hands. Unconsciously, your thumbs press against the palm of your gloved hands, it was an instinct that you usually did before any type of contact.
You never notice when you do this, but Zemo had noticed this habit of yours since Riga. You used to do this every time after you woke up. And, as it seems, you haven’t stopped ever since.
“You need to get up” Zemo says, trying to get your attention back to him, “We can not stay here forever, we need to move”
“Fine” you roll your eyes and hold his hand, ignoring the way you start to sweat and your fingers hurt while he pulls you up, “So, what is your idea, Sherlock?” as soon as you’re up and steady on your feet, you shove his hands off yours, leaning on the nearest tree and pressing your hands one against the other.
Zemo raises his eyebrows and locks his eyes at you, “Sadly none, schatz”
Immediately cross, you stare at him, if only looks could kill...
“Do not fucking dare to call me that” you point to him, putting his arms up in surrender, you could hear him whispering an apology. For the Saints sake, you breathe out deeply, not capable of keeping your fingers quiet, “Do we know where we are?”
The Baron looked around, you see when his commander's tactics of command show up behind his fixed eyes, studying and analysing the forest where you are. It’s easy to see his gears working harder inside his head while relating what he sees with what he knows. That is something that you’d never admit it, but you admire how smart he is. Not just because of all the knowledge he has for being a Baron, but the years that he was in the EKO Scorpion.
Not that you weren’t smart yourself, you had knowledge about a few things and the boys usually complimented you for your deduction skills. But, you don’t feel that this helps as much as your power to shift does.
“Russia” you almost jump in surprise. You had forgotten that you questioned him about that. Zemo shrugs as he towards his way to you, “I do not know which forest, but we can not stay any longer”
“Well, seeing that the purple parachute is stuck in this tree, they will not get long to find us anyhow” you look up and Zemo follow you stare, looking for the damn parachute, “But we also have to find Sam and Bucky, if the dark group find us, we can fi-”
“Find Sam and Bucky, I got it” the Sokovian rolls his eyes and turns his back to you, walking away leisurely, “But if they find us first, we do not have a chance against them, my leg is not great and you can not even walk, can you?” looking at you over his shoulder, Zemo motions at your state as he waits for you to prove him wrong.
“This is no- Fuck” you shout in the first step you give, before you could fall, Zemo runs into you and catches you.
Your eyes widen with the physical contact, even if the clothes you were wearing don’t expose your skin, you can feel a sequence of cold goosebumps that break out over your body and raises the hair from your feet to your head. From the corner of your new eyes, you glance at Zemo, not able to hide your gasp, why the hell didn’t he just let you fall?
“Apologies” he says quickly, letting your body lean in one of the trees, “but until you get better, I will need to carry you”
You chew your inner cheek, looking away from Zemo. Only the thought of someone touching you makes you sick right now. It's almost instantly, the nightmare comes to your mind. The feeling of all those people hurting you and the pain spreading to your whole body.
Even now, you can feel the cold filling up your bones.
“Y/N, please” the Baron whispered, trying to get your attention, “Schatz”
In the same second, you dare to look in his eyes and saints, you regret this. You can’t seem to feel angry, because when you gaze in his brown eyes, you just see concern.
He is worried for you, what sounds suspicious for you, but this is the first time that you get to read his expression. It’s the first time that Zemo has let you see what he is feeling and being aware of this… It’s weird for you. You try to focus on the reasons why you hate him, on how he called you darling even after all the things he said and did to you. Even after what he made you feel.
But, somehow, something in his eyes answered the little voice inside your head. The one who liked to remind you about the pain that comes with the touch. It doesn’t matter how bad the relationship between you two is, or how he or you feel about each other, Zemo would never hurt you. Not again, not now.
You sigh, glancing at your gloved hands and looking back at the man before you.
"Heilige (Saints)!" you mumble and bite your lower lip, ignoring how cracked it already is. Zemo seems to smile when he listens to you speaking Sokovian, usually it’s just him that speaks the language and not you, "Just... Let's go, before I puke on your shoes"
“So…” slowly, he gets your arm around his neck and holds your torso, watching and waiting for your reaction. But all you do is keep the same stoic face of always and ignore the damn shivers in your spine, “That’s mean that we are following my plan, who would guess”
“Shut up, Zemo” the way you snap at the man makes him grin, your lips part when you see that, "Less talking and more walking, huh?"
"Who could say that Y/N L/N would follow my plan" he continues to tease you, helping you to walk away from where you were before.
One more time, you roll your eyes but fail to hold a chuckle back. And, you don't see but when Zemo listens to it, the corner of his lips turns up more and more.
It is in these moments that he can recognize the real you.
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“Your plan just includes walking away?” you inhale air as much as possible. Maybe the fall actually affect your head because you have to control yourself to not throw up on Zemo, even if part of you wants to ruin his clothes, “We need to think in how to save the boys, you know”
Zemo doesn't say anything. Again. You are trying to talk with him for some minutes, but he seems distracted with finding a way out of the forest rather than listening to you. The journey makes you uncomfortable, always trying to get in a position where the other Sokovian wouldn’t need to touch you so much. But that was an impossible task.
“Saints” you frown and stop your steps, you feel faint. When you stop, Zemo glances at you, confuse as he see a strange sick tone takes over your cheeks, “I’m go-”
You don't continue, in the next second, you turn your body and vomit. Quickly, Zemo holds your hair back even with you gesticulating for him to get away. He ignores your hands and continues there, not letting go of your side. You feel your throat dries, the acid and bitter taste doesn’t leave your palate.
“Scheiße (Fuck)” you mutter, trying to clean your mouth with your sleeves, “I said that we should stop”
“You did not say you were about to vomit” he raises an eyebrow, getting his hand off you, “What do you need?”
Once again, Zemo tries to approach you and guide you to somewhere to sit, but you interrupt him with another gesture of hands. With some difficulty, you go by yourself, sitting over the grass and ignoring the pain residing inside your muscles every second you move. You raise your brows back to him, shrugging as who says ‘I’m fine’.
Holding back a giggle, the Baron sits besides you, giving you another look, one that says ‘I will continue to ask you, you liking it or not’
You snorf, “I need you to start to plan on how we will help our team” with the index finger, you indicate yourself and him.
“Why me?” Zemo asks, “I am already trying to find a trail to a civilisation around here, you should be the one planning”
“I thought that we were following a master plan of yours” you comment with a mock tone, seeing Zemo twisting the bridge of his nose and tilting his head, “Which technically includes that you also has to plan a second step”
“I am sorry to inform you that I do not have one, though” your face close in a grumpy expression, your eyes narrowing at him like you are about to jump at him and kill him, “What? Are you more worried about the Dark Avengers finding and killing us or with your friends that you know that can figure it out something until we reach them?”
“You know my answer” you stare at him, turning just a little of your chin in his direction.
“If may I say, it’s a stupid one” you shove his shoulder and he groans, Zemo doesn’t seem angry. In fact, you see him grinning with the same smug smile.
Saints, if you didn’t need him to get out of that forest, you would have already killed him.
“No, you may not” rolling eyes, you press your own knuckles. The synapses on your head get to work twice as you bit your lips and focus your eyes in your gloves, “If you do not have a second step, I have one”
“Please, enlighten me” he doesn't seem to be mocking you, but curious with what you are about to say.
“The plan…”
You breathe out and Helmut’s eyes widen when he sees you morph. It is not the first time that he sees you using your power. In fact, he isn’t surprised at all while he watches your skin tremble and your appearance change as your shape moves like waves, the Baron looks at you with a fluttering face. He always seemed stunned with you when you were morphing.
Your hair gets short and dirty blond, your put on some muscles & height and the features on your face completely change. The last thing you alter, is your eyes. Zemo quietly sees when they are filled up with a sparkly and stormy blue.
When you breathe in again, you turn your face back to his, avoiding his pointy stare and the sudden pink that erupts to your cheeks.
“It is not exactly me” your voice is not the same as before, it is thick and sounds deeper.
You are wearing John Walker’s skin, flesh, bone and face.
“It would be a great plan” Zemo looks at you from up to down, his head tilted and nearing his right shoulder, “If you had his clothes”
Looking down, you see what he means. You can look exactly like the American Agent, but you can’t morph your clothes as well. You just seem to be a John Walker dressing like you.
“It can not be so hard to solve this” you respond, “When we find people, we can borrow their clothes and I can wear something similar to him, it is still a plan”
You notice a strange look passing through Zemo’s face. Some kind of flash. He moves his eyebrows in what you read as overthinking. Perhaps, if you ignored the sound of nature among you, you’d listen to his synapses working hard inside his head while his eyes are gazing through you. Even if he is not touching one of your arms or hands, you feel the metallic shiver dance in your spine, you know that look in his eyes.
“There's still a problem,” he whispers.
“Do not tell me that is the clothes again” you know that isn’t.
“No” Zemo rolls his eyes but returns his stare at you, watching for your reaction as he says, “When you morph, use your power, you have to be concentrated” he isn’t questioning, he knows that. You chew your cheeks again and avoid his gaze, turning your attention to any bird in this forest, “And you are not just tired but hurt because of that fall”
“That is not true” you murmurs, hating the way you sound like John when you say it, “I can do this”
“You could” Zemo corrects you, you glance at him, confused by his answer, “If you were not spending a hundred per cent of your energy concentrating”
And then, holus-bolus,  the Sokovian claps his hands in front of your face and makes you jump in a gasp. In the same second, you feel your power slips off of your brain as your skin starts to leave John Walker behind. Your eyes widen open and nothing comes out of your mouth while your body is morphing again, you return your attention to what your shape will look like rather than the curiosity in Zemo’s eyes. You sense when your body is about to reset but you are quick to get it to transmute into the first unknown face you can think of.
It’s not exactly you, but it’s one of the faces that you usually wear.
“Are you nuts?” you grit teeth and thread to push the man sitting besides you, just inches of distance, “What are you thinking?”
“How long have you not been wearing your own skin, Y/N?” Even when the rage covers your expressions, the Baron dares to ask, “When was the last time?”
The answer escapes from your lips as a hoarse noise, but it’s just you trying to speak up without let your emotions take care of you, “You know when it was”
“I already said no, Zemo” you rolled your eyes and shook your head, “Like… Saints, I don’t even know if I could”
“Why?” Curious, Zemo asked. He was about to reach for one of your hands but quickly he remembered your late reactions, so he just gestured while saying, “It is your face, your real characteristics are all framed inside your cells”
“How do I explain this to you without sounding like someone explaining to a child?” you joked, getting your hands together and sighing, “Look, you know when you do not see someone for a long time, because that person passed away or it’s just the distance and whatever?” you saw when something changed in Zemo’s eyes, there was something sparkling behind his soft brown eyes but you just watched he slowly nodding, “So, you know how easily our brains make us little by little forget some of these their features and starts to make up anothers”
“You are saying that you do not remember your own face?” the question slipped through Zemo’s mouth but he didn’t regret to, you swallowed back the air, choosing to not answer it. However, this was an answer for him anyways, “Schatz” the pet name arrived on your ears and made you gaze at his figure, giving him a sad smile.
“It is not that I forgot, it is just…” once again, you sighed, leaning your forehead against the palm of your hand, “I am afraid of how I will look, and If I do not get it? It will just be a proof that I will never be capable to turn back”
“But you are already doing this” he frowned his brows, “You are already on this road if you never try”
“I know” you whisper in response, “But sometimes, that are things better inside our heads than out”
“I do not think so” Zemo offered for you a half smile, you raised your eyebrows, surprised and confused with his words and how they made your chest warm up, “Has it ever crossed your mind that If you start to wear your skin, maybe the nightmares will go away?”
“Maybe” you started to understand where he wanted to go with this thought.
“Do you not think that it deserves a shot, then?” he crossed his arms, tilting his head back, “You can do this, Y/N”
The smile on your face was light, but it was enough to make a cold sensation travel through Zemo's spine and through his temples. He tried to push this aside and watch when you started to change. As always, your skin was moving in waves, washing the one you were currently using away and, piece by piece, your body shaped back to the one face and skin that you thought that you would never go back again. It was like putting yourself back in old shoes, a little tight but the nostalgia was there, hurting the point of your feet.
But it wasn’t a bad pain.
Your hair got colored by a bright (H/C), dancing through you not new hair strands as your skin tone also changes to a (S/T). Your face seemed that it was being carved before Zemo’s eyes, he glared at you in shock when your features started to take over your cheeks, your nose, your mouth… And, what you always let for the last, your eyes, the Baron saw your eyes flash and change from the cold colour they were before being painted with warmth (E/C).
Your eyes popped a little out when you noticed how Zemo was attentive to you ‘dismorphing’, pressing your gloved hands one against the other and listening to your fingers clicking, you asked in a whisper, “How do I look?”
For anyone else, the question wouldn’t be audible, but Helmut was so closed to you that he heard. Tilting his head, he felt once again the cold shiver taking over his body and raising up the hair of his arms and neck. He considered what to say but words wouldn’t leave his lips, he didn’t know how to say this or even if he could say this.
But, you were too perfect. More gorgeous that he could ever imagine. And... God, Zemo hated when he noticed what he had to do even after this, you were just making this worse for him.
“That means that you still have nightmares, don’t you?” his questions get to your ears somehow, you wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t sitting just besides you. Saints, you wish that you had not heard, “I assume that this is a yes”
You raise your finger against his chest, pointing at him with a broken expression trembling your face as you stare in his eyes back. Your hands are shaking and the words almost don’t get out of your throat.
“It is not of your business, Helmut” that’s the first time that you call him by his first name after all those months, the words tumble from your mouth in an irritated tone. But, Zemo doesn’t stop looking at you, not even for a second, so he sees when tears start to come into your eyes and you try to swallow them down, “It can be anyone else's business, but not yours. Not after what you did”
“You are talking about…” he doesn’t complete the question, the way you sob and one tear escapes from your eyes is enough for him to understand, “I see”
Sincerely, Zemo already knew that. From the moment that he hurt you, on purpose, he knew what he had done. After giving so many steps in that relationship of yours, because of him, you gave a hundred steps away from him.
You have the same broken and sad eyes from that day.
“I am really sorry for what I said to you in Riga, Y/N” a sarcastic chuckle escapes from you, you look at him, outraged. It’s difficult for you to believe a single thing that he says. Even though, this don’t stop him from keep trying, “I never meant those words, none of them were true”
“Really, you are saying this right now? When we are in the middle of nowhere?” you need to hold you back as much as you can so your index finger doesn’t turn in a punch. But you don’t get to stop yourself in time, when you see, you are already punching his chest and ignoring the way that your fingers burns, “You are saying that you didn’t meant it when you said to me that I was stupid? An easy target? A burden for my friends? A complete control freak…?” you aren’t able to continue, the tears rolling through your cheeks prevents you to say more, the sentences are a ball of bitterness stuck in your mouth.
“At the time, I thought that was best for all of you If you just tolerated or hated me” Zemo doesn’t stop you from punching him, his face twitches with your strength but nothing beyond that, “For Bucky and Sam it was easy, I just needed to catch them by surprise so they could feel like they needed to walk on eggshells around me. I thought that it would be easy with you as well, you already hated me, but I messed up, I got fascinated by you. You worry for your friends safety, always look for a solution even when it is a lost cause, you are smart and-” And you are beautiful, “And I did not notice that I let you in, when I saw it was too late and I did not want anyone to get under my skin. Especially you”
You open your mouth, not knowing exactly what to say. All you feel is rage, you are so angry at Zemo bringing this up, the metallic shivers and the burning goosebumps are trembling under your skin. However, you also are in shock, part of you says that he is lying, he is only saying this because you two are trapped together in the middle of nowhere, another part says that he is telling you the truth. And, the quick idea of maybe this be the truth it’s what makes you sob even more.
“Why?” you don’t have a chance to hold this question back, it crawls its way out of your thoughts, “Why me?”
Conflicted, Zemo searches for one of your hands. He just lays his hand on yours, waiting for the second you will push him away, But, you don’t. You ignore the shouts inside your head and the way your hand heats, you swallow all the bad sensations back and bury them inside your mind. Months before, this would be impossible for you, but it’s an easy task when you have your eyes fixed on Zemo's.
His lips curve in a small smile, close to what would be a line, but you are aware that he is smiling. He is smiling because of you, “Because you are the only one that I do not partially loathe and I never could. Before I could get under your skin, you got under mine and didn’t push me away at the first shot”
“Saints” you shake your head, not capable of looking him straight in his eyes anymore, “I hate you so much, der Dummkopf (Bonehead)”
“I know you do” in fact, both of you know that you are lying. Zemo sighs, “You really want to help Thing One and Thing Two, right?”
You ride your tears away and try not to let your voice cracks, “Of course I want to”
“So, let’s do it like this: I guess there’s a hunters hut around here, we can stop there and rest. There, we could find some clothes so you can pretend to be the American Agent, we get rid of him and act like ‘you’ caught me. But you will have to really rest for this to work out, you understand?”
You would have to stop to focus on your power and let that skin slip off. Let your real face, flesh and bones take over.
“I guess so” you breathe out so air and fill up your lungs slowly, biting your lips as you think about, “This kind of sounds like a plan”
“It’s sounds like one to me as well” Zemo raises up on his feet and offers his hand to pull you, you snorf when you let him pull your hand and stand up, “It is always good to work with you, Y/N”
“Okay, let’s not lose ourselves, Zemo” you cross your arms, “I’m still mad at you, but it is good to know that we are following my idea”
You pass by him and start to walk into the way you were walking before. The pain in your feet and legs is getting better, sitting and talking wasn’t so bad at all. But you would never say this to Zemo, not when you are aware that he would use this to tease you.
“I would be surprised if you were not, but it is okay for me” Zemo passes in front of you, since he was the one tracking your way and not you, “I will wait patiently for the day that you forgive me, so we can try again”
You don’t need to ask what he means with ‘try again’. You hide a smile and look for his eyes as you stare behind his head, “Me too”, accelerating your pace, you get side by side with the Baron.
Zemo looks at you from the corner of his eyes, surprised when he feels your gloved hand holding his and slowly your fingers intertwining. You were taking little steps. And he would not leave your side, he would still be there beside you, watching you as you adventure yourself with those steps.
This time, he would not let himself waste his chances. For you, Zemo would also take some steps. Looking at him, you could sense this, you hold his hand tighter and the smile on your face gets bigger. Perhaps, for once, the nightmares would finally go away.
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Taglist: @ourladybinxthings (thanks so much for helping me revise this imagine!!)
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cosmicloki · 7 months ago
𝐌𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 | 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬
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summary: john walker is flirting with you in front of bucky and he won't take it pairing: bucky barnes x female!reader word count: 2k warnings: john walker (yes, he is a warning), jealous!bucky, some angst, fluff.
english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!
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You snorted as you dropped between Bucky and Sam, your gaze on everything but the big jerk dressed as Steve sitting across from you. And by the time the vehicle started to move, you knew that you had regretted getting into it in the first place.
"You know we just saved your asses, right?" John Walker, the clown himself, questioned, shooting you an almost mocking look.
"We had everything under control." You replied dryly, finally joining your gaze with his blue one, crossing your arms over your chest. You frowned when you saw how he blatantly moved his eyes from your face to your chest and vice versa, and Bucky could see it too as he immediately tensed sitting next to you.
"And if 'having everything under control' means getting your butt kicked out, of course, you had everything under control." John joked, but seeing that none of the three invited passengers smiled at his words, he sighed. "We're on the same team, guys, c'mon. I don't know why you act like you hate us."
"We're not on the same team, man." Sam was quick to reply, as calm as ever. You found it incredible that he could maintain his composure even in such stressful situations.
"And we do hate you." Bucky added, you nodded at his words.
"My point is, we could work well on the same side." John leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees and by the time his eyes landed on you, you knew some disgusting statement was coming. "And we could use an avenger of your caliber, sweetheart." You raised an eyebrow at the nickname. "You have a hell of potential, but I can see you don't work well with these two. Maybe you're on the wrong team."
John smiled widely when he saw a smile rise on your lips as well and when you approached him, he approached as well.
"Uh, I wouldn't recommend doing that." Sam muttered under his breath seeing John's closeness to you.
"I'm going to give you two seconds to retract all the bullshit you just said if you don't want a broken nose." You said in a low tone against his ear still with that dark smile on your lips and Bucky smiled totally satisfied at Walker's expression, who looked truly terrified for a couple of seconds.
Your lover's vibranium hand rested gently on your thigh, trying to calm you down, which worked almost automatically. He knew how much the subject of the shield and Steve affected you, even as much as him.
The fake Captain America cleared his throat, straightening his body to sit well. "Look, I'm not trying to replace anyone, okay?"
"Oh, so is that why you're dressed exactly as Steve Rogers?" Sam answered wryly, raising his eyebrows at him.
"I'm not Steve Rogers, I'm Captain America."
Sam, Bucky and you laughed, the three of you looking at Walker in disbelief.
"You know that carrying that shield around doesn't make you Captain America, right?" You questioned in a cold tone.
Bucky, still with his hand on your thigh, dedicated himself to gaze intently with narrowed eyes at who, until now, had easily proven worthy of being his potential enemy. He quick noticed how John Walker's disgusting eyes traveled over your body, sometimes stopping at cuts that had ripped open your suit from the previous fight.
And God he wanted to break his therapist's rule number two so badly.
John Walker finally glanced at Sam, pointing at the super soldier with a movement of his fingers. "He always stares like that?"
"You get used to it." Sam replied calmly and proceeded to shrug. "And man, you've been flirting with his girl in front of his eyes all this time, do it a little while longer and I assure you it will be more than a stare."
"I confirm that." Bucky agreed with a darkly ironic look, giving Walker an even darker smile, almost looking like psycho.
John sighed for almost the tenth time in the hour, looking truly defeated. "If you guys joined us, this would be a lot easier for everyone." His blue eyes traveled over the hate-filled faces of the trio of passengers in front of him. "I know it's a complicated subject, but with Falcon, Diamondback, and the Winter Soldier we could― "
You quickly interrupted him in a warning tone, your eyebrows furrowing with anger. "Don't call him that."
"Easy, Walker." Sam spoke at the same time as you did, also looking a little more tense with the name brought into the conversation, gesturing with his hand and pointing at Walker with his index finger warningly.
The aforementioned blinked a few times and then dropped his shoulders, exhaling a great breath of air. His blue eyes fell back on you before he spoke. "I'm trying, sweetheart, I really am― "
"Don't call her that." Bucky snapped this time, annoyed, but John completely ignored him, continuing to look at you in a way that really disgusted you and your lover alike, even Sam got uncomfortable with it, frowning at him.
"I still think you should switch sides here, (Y/N)." You kept quiet, allowing him to keep talking. Maybe you wanted to hear him, maybe you were giving him a chance to say something that would clean up all the garbage he had been saying so far. "I mean, you are an avenger, the last one standing and a very good friend of Steve, you were his partner. The right thing to do now would be for you to be my partner, don't you think?"
You were going to answer something immediately, your trembling lips parting as you felt a strange sensation when hearing the words Steve and avenger in the same sentence, but Bucky, once again, interrupted the conversation, raising his head towards the driver with a clenched jaw. He had enough. You had enough.
"Stop the car!"
Walker rolled his eyes, watching as Bucky stood up as the car came to a stop and moved to the side of the road, his hand entwining with yours, gently pulling you to follow him, knowing full well that all you wanted was to get out of there as fast as possible, just by reading your body language. "You know what? I get it, alright?"
When the blue-eyed super-soldier was on the ground, he turned to look at you, offering his hand to help you down as well, but you turned to Walker, feeling a wave of fury shake your body. "No, you don't get it. You don't understand what this shield means to us, what Steve means to us. You never will, John."
Walker opened his mouth to reply, but you interrupted him with your eyebrows rising ironically. "Oh, I almost forgot."
What immediately came following your words was your fist impacting against his face so fast and hard that not even he saw it coming. He let out a great whine and brought his hand to his nose, feeling how the blood began to come out of the nostrils thanks to, probably, a fracture.
You didn't stop to watch the man whimper and cry down on his seat, as you hurried to get out of the vehicle taking Bucky's hand, who kept a wide smile full of pride on his lips, looking openly satisfied with the situation.
"That's my girl." He murmured against your forehead as his arms pulled you close to his body and placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head. "I'm sorry you had to listen to all that, doll."
Sam decided to stay with John and his partner for a couple of minutes, to, as his good heart requested, listen to what he had to say, perhaps waiting for an apology. While you and your lover were simply holding each other on the side of the road, already away from the car.
You kissed Bucky's clavicle before separating from him and raising your head to join your gaze with his beautiful blue eyes, which, in the contrast of daylight, shone like never before. His orbs automatically softened once they landed on you. "He's a dick, don't worry about him, love."
"But he really choose to flirt with you in front of me. How bold. Switch sides he said, right?" Bucky's hands rested on your waist, keeping you close to him, as if you were such an idiot to want to get away from the warmth and comfort that his body offered you. "You're not going to leave me, are you, doll?"
You could feel your heart squeeze inside your chest when you saw a hint of insecurity flash in the blue of his eyes. Suddenly, he looked like a little lost puppy.
"Oh, baby, no." You released with an exhale of air, as you stood on tiptoe to level a bit with his height and both of your hands were raised towards his cheeks, lowering his face to you, making him focus only on you. "I'll never leave you, James. You're all I have, all I need. Only you. Some fool with a shield won't be able to keep me away from you, Steve couldn't, and neither will this one." You gave him a short kiss, caressing his face with the greatest delicacy in the world. You raised your eyebrows before speaking again. "And hell, there is a big difference between them."
Bucky gave you a little smile, almost dazzling you at how beautiful he was when he smiled. But after a few seconds that warm smile turned sad and melancholic, just before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to his body once more, in a strong hug, full of shared emotions.
"Never leave me, baby doll." He whispered against your ear, leaving a soft kiss on the side of your head.
"Never." You replied immediately, showing absolutely no doubt.
"You two finished?" Sam's voice brought you both back to reality. Bucky grunted, reluctantly pulling away his face from your neck. Your coworker was looking at you with a single raised eyebrow and when he saw how you finally separated from each other, he crossed his arms. "You know what the rule is, love birds."
"I hate you." The super soldier responded by shooting his co-worker a short, annoyed look.
Sam smirked. "No you don't."
The three of you started walking across the path back home, Bucky intertwining his flesh fingers with yours, keeping you close to him, as always.
"That punch back there was really necessary, though, (Y/N)?" The Falcon asked you, while he walked to your other side. An amused expression as he turned to you.
"It really was." You nodded your head with a big smile on your mouth, giggling shortly, making Sam laugh too with it.
But you and your best friend were surprised all of a sudden at hearing Bucky laughing next to you as well, both of you turning to look at him with raised eyebrows, totally stunned by his open display of emotion.
"My girl is the most badass of all." The super-soldier said after a few seconds of laughing softly, unable to erase the huge smile of pride plastered on his pretty face. A soft kiss was placed on your forehead, as he brought you closer to him. “My girl.” 
Sam rolled his eyes at you. "No PDA in front of me, guys. You know te rule, c’mon.”
"Shut up, Sam." You declared this time with a smile, while you put Bucky's flesh arm around your shoulders to be even closer to him, passing your arm around his waist, immediately feeling his natural warmth delightfully invade you. 
"I love you, doll." He murmured against the side of your head, his warm breath crashing against your skin.
"I love you too." You mumbled back, leaning your head against his chest.
"That's it, I'm flying."
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