#When people just call him 'Zemo'

[onebadwinter]

If they pronounce your name like a curse then you might as well teach their mouths how to taste a growing hell. -- Scherezade Siobhan

[notafunkiller]

Bucky Barnes is the best super soldier

How it was subtly emphasized in The Falcon and The Winter Soldier:

He always holds back

With the Flag Smashers and even with John Walker. We could see the difference in the last 3 episodes. Sebastian Stan did an incredible job making it clear in a subtle way.

I want to mention that famous "Stay there" scene, and how it was visible Bucky was not punching as hard as he can in the fight with John.)

This is the thing about Bucky, he isn't after the kill, he just does his part. He doesn't try to show off his skills or that he is a good guy. He doesn't try to play the victim role, either. In the scene where Zemo fake-activates the Winter Soldier in Madripoor, he just makes a point. He's obviously not even trying hard.

If he wanted those in the club dead, they would be. But his self control was wow. Sebastian acted so well, his exes said everything.

*And to be honest, even when he was TWS, he could have killed everyone, but he didn't. He could have killed all of the Avengers in Civil War is they were his mission, but they weren't. This is how Natasha survived when she met him, too. It depended on what kind of mission he had (if he wasn't allowed to be seen, then the witnesses would die too, but otherwise? He didn't bother).

2. His skills

People tend to forget how smart and good at making strategies Bucky is. He's been fighting (even though he hates fighting and never wanted to be in the army) for years before he was even captured by Hydra. And this is the reason why government still want him, after all. They can use his strategies as a leader (*cough* Thunderbolts *cough*).

In the last episodes of TFATWS, we could see how he outsmarted everyone. Karli was so terrified of him.

3. Karli Morgenthau

And talking about Karli, the phone call was interesting:

She asked him if he's not tired of fighting for the wrong side, and then told him she's fighting for something bigger than herself.

"And with all the bodies you've collected, have you ever been able to say the same?"

The first thing I wanna point out is how everyone talks about the deaths Bucky caused when he was controlled by Hydra, but everyone ignores the fact that all the Avengers killed far more, but since we consider them the good side, we just don't care.

Clint, Tony, Steve, Wanda etc. They all cause(d) far more deaths than "two dozen" (known assassinations - to quote Natasha), and neither was controlled. The double standards are something else, especially for Clint. (One of the reasons why Tony was on the other side in CW was because of his guilt, after all.)

The second point is how Bucky's answer says a lot more than we might realize at first:

"You don't think I ever fought for something bigger than myself? That's all I ever tried to do, and I failed twice."

Even as TWS, Bucky had to be convinced he is on the right side, that what they do is to save the world, to give "the world the freedom it deserves".

Even brainwashed and put to sleep all the time, he had to be lied to. Bucky as TWS was a victim too. He is not a victim only because he didn't have memories or control, but also because they lied to him and used him as a toy. That milk scene is so loud. (And I am gonna talk about it in a different post). He had no rights, no choices. He was used to being tortured.

[And I wish they explored it more. We deserved and deserve a WS film - maybe with him in Romania getting back his memories, writing in his journal etc.]

"You think your cause justifies all this death, but in the end, the nightmares won't go away. You're gonna remember all the ones you killed. Trust me. Don't do this. Don't go down this path."

Despite being on opposite sides, Bucky still said this to Karli, trying to help her, to make her see the big picture, sharing how he felt and feels.

He is on "the right side". He is a hero, and Bucky being thanked by that man for saving everyone's life was touching.

4. Baron Zemo

You can see how smart, strong, and rational Bucky is when he decides to break Zemo out of jail (his plan was amazing too), risking so much (his relationship with Wakanda people and his own freedom) to get his help for the mess. He puts the cause above his own (huge) trauma. And this makes that moment in Madripoor even more disgusting (he is treated as an object, as a toy):

Zemo: Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum. And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.

The way he keeps his composure, reacts and manages the situation... absolutely incredible!

This conversation also says a lot:

Zemo: The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals. Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path.

Bucky: Maybe you're wrong, Zemo. The serum never corrupted Steve.

Zemo: Touché. But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?

Bucky positions himself below Steve, who's considered a good hero, a good person... like no other. But Steve never had to go through what Bucky did: from being kidnapped like that, to being tested on, to falling off the train, to being tortured, and used, and brainwashed for decades, and put to sleep when he was not needed and having n "keepers".

Also, interesting how all Steve wanted was to fight (for a good cause, but still)... and fighting still means violence, meanwhile Bucky never wanted to fight, not even before becoming TWS, in the army (and yet he is still great at fighting. And he is deadly, even when he holds back.). All he wanted was peace.

Despite not getting the "perfect serum", despite being brainwashed, put to sleep, and forced to fight for decades, he is still himself. He never gave in to the dark side for real. He fought in his own way. The first thing he did when he woke up was to choke the Hydra guy with a whole new arm!

Bucky is so underrated: from his intelligence and fighting skills, to how human he is. Being flawed, keeping his sassiness and charm from the 40s, but getting more mature and carrying his past on his shoulders... he's so relatable and real. And every day, he shows Zemo he is wrong.

The show he makes in his final scene with Zemo is absolutely fantastic. He doesn't just prove the point he isn't defined by the serum and Hydra (AND not even by Steve, thanks to Sam. His speech made him realize the important thing about himself: that he decides who he is, not others - even those who know him before becoming TWS- "And this might be a surprise, but it doesn't matter what Steve thought. You gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are." parallel to "Steve believed in you. He trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason. That shield, that is… that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. He gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing. [...] So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, then he was wrong about me."), but also that he is superior.

When Zemo tells him that he decided to let him alive (probably so he can kill Karli) and basically calls him a killing machine: "programmed to kill", Bucky plays the role, lets Zemo talk him into killing Karli, and then Bucky watches him waiting for his own death.

[Also, Bucky's line: Imagine my relief is hilarious.]

The acting was incredible: the shock on Zemo's face and the amusement and somehow relief on Bucky's after he pulls the trigger and lets the bullets fall... He proved him he's THE standard of the super soldier. Because despite everything he went through, he is the best.

Zemo telling him to cross his name off felt like a fresh start (+ telling Nakajima the truth).

5. John Walker

John, on the other hand, is lucky Bucky is an understanding person. He gets what is like... the pressure, the environment, the loss, and even tries to help.

Bucky: Don't go down that road. Believe me, it doesn't end well.

John: I'm not like you!

Of course he is not like Bucky, because Bucky has control. He is not killing to get revenge in a cynical way.

"That serum doesn't exactly have a great track record."

John kept judging Bucky every time they spoke, somehow placing himself above this "broken" man.

"This is all really easy for you, isn't it? All that serum runnin' through your veins. Barnes, your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?"

This is so wrong on every single level, especially because Bucky didn't choose to take the serum, and he always had his friends' back. He's loyal and ready to sacrifice himself.

The "funny" part about this is John ending up taking the last super soldier serum vial. All the judgement, the disgust, the patronizing tone, just to do that. Plus, of course, to kill someone with the shield.

(John proves Zemo's point about super soldiers, and Bucky does the opposite.)

And what is it easy for Bucky anyway?

He's under government conditions (so CACW coded), he has a vibranium arm that I bet the government would try to take after he dies (HOPEFULLY WHEN HE'S 200 YEARS OLD IN HIS BED, as Sebastian wants too) if he isn't in Wakanda, he is haunted by nightmares (which also can mean he is still Hydra's TWS in another universe as we found out from Strange), and he has to learn how to live for real. He's smart, charismatic, has values and principles, and he's incredible.

We need to see his version of TWS going after everyone Hydra helped. TWS is him, a part of him, and doing that on his terms, having control over it would help him heal.

[touchtheinvisiblestars]

Imagine Bucky when he realises you were right there as he put on the winter soldier persona

The entire club felt like it was being held at the edge of a knife. All eyes trained on the small group of you at the bar.

Unprepared for what just happened, your gaze flickered around, avoiding Bucky. Nervous of just how many people were watching, and the hired security that were inching their way closer, fingers ghosting over their own triggers.

Sharing a side glance with Sam, who's only assurance was a visible clench in his jaw. You stepped closer to him and warily watched Zemo.

The only person you hadn't looked at was Bucky. Still too stunned by the events of the last few minutes, even though you could feel him staring.

As he released the man he was gripping onto, the movement drew your gaze to him. He was still looking only at you, a kind of half horrified, half defeated look in his eyes.

You felt like there was no air in the room, unable to catch your breath, you startled as the man crumpled to the floor.

"I can't do this Sam."

You backed away and made a beeline for the exit. Sam failing to grab you as you rushed out.

Busting out the emergency exit of the club, the cool night air hit you.

"Y/N." Sam called, having followed you.

"I'm sorry Sam. It's too much, seeing that side of him. It just looks so easy for him to slip back into it."

"I know. I get it. But it's just for show. He's safe."

Leaning against the railing, you looked at the stairs down. Knowing you could run if you wanted to.

Letting out a big sigh, "I know. It's funny we've been working so close with him and we've shared so much. But all it took was 30 seconds and I'm back on that highway again thinking I was going to die."

"And we've done really well to get this far. Don't doubt yourself. You've come so far."

"Sam." Buckys voice started from the doorway.

"She's alright. Here. I'll go keep an eye on Zemo." Sam squeezed your shoulder affectionately, before disappearing back into the club.

You turned to look at him. He had his classic lost puppy dog expression. One you had grown to be quite fond of.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry Bucky. It just took me back a bit."

"I didn't want to do that. I need you to know that. Especially with you there. That's not who I am. Please don't think it's just waiting to come out. I was in control the whole time."

"I know you didn't. I'm sorry you had to."

"It's why I hate places like this. You just get labelled as guard dog."

Feeling the tension wash out of you. You relaxed your posture fully turning to face him.

"We know that's not who you are anymore. Please don't feel guilty."

"Come on its like you don't know me at all. I'm a walking pin cushion of guilt" He laughed.

[ivybucky]

First Time - b.b. x gn!reader

Summary: You have a habit of calling people by cute nicknames or monikers, and Bucky isn't sure why it made him feel so good.

a/n: I'm breaking my hiatus finally!!! this is just a cute lil fic somewhat based on first time by hozier without the thought-provoking underlying angst. 1.9k

Content/Warnings: tfaws!Bucky, fluff, pining, tfaws fight scenes, zemo mention, multiple Sam appearances, references to fights/violence, use of y/n, use of the nickname doll when referring to the reader, friends to lovers? (let me know if i'm forgetting anything)

Masterlist

Believe it or not, Bucky Barnes tried to not think about his past. 

Though his efforts to make amends were a work-in-progress, and his name was brought up in the press more often than he preferred, Bucky Barnes tried to think about his past as little as possible. 

The first time you called him James was the first time he had liked the way it sounded. You had smiled at him, sweet and welcoming, as Sam introduced the two of you.

“It’s nice to meet you, James.” God, did it fall off your tongue in the nicest way. “Thank you for looking after birdbrain over here.” You giggled at Sam’s distant-sounding protest.

Bucky cracked a sideways smile, not being able to stop himself. “You can call me Bucky, doll.”

Your smile morphed into a sort of smirk, cheeks warming at the nickname he gave you. “Is that what you prefer?”

He hadn’t given it much thought anymore. He knew James as the person who enlisted in the military, the person who fell from the train following Captain America into the throws of war. James was the person who was Hydra’s plaything, the assassin, the monster he was so desperate to forget. Bucky was the charmer, the best friend of Steve Rogers, the swing dancer who had a habit of punching bullies(justified obviously). 

Now, he didn’t feel like either. Going by Bucky was the easiest option, since it was the part of him he was desperate to gain back. Talking to you however, he didn’t think he cared what he was called anymore. 

He gave you a soft grin, one that may have held a bit more meaning than flirtation. “I don’t mind either, you can call me whatever you want.”

—

The first time you called him by any kind of nickname was the day they went to Madripoor.

“Sammy! Buck!” You called their names as you waved big at them from the small airport hangar. 

Bucky tried to slow his heart as the pair walked closer to you. Sam let out a chuckle next to him, a teasing smile thrown his way. “Hope you don’t mind the extra company, Buck.”

With a frown and a grumble, Bucky widened his gait, the toe of his shoe catching on Sam’s, causing him to trip up momentarily. “Don’t call me that.”

He reached you first, allowing his smile wider further than before. “Hi Y/N, what’re you doin’ here?”

You placed a gentle hand on his left shoulder, rubbing back and forth. “It’s good to see you too,” you chuckled. “Sam told me what you guys are doing with Zemo. He thought I might be able to provide some kind of help, right Sam?”

Sam walked up with somehow both a smirk and scowl on his face and pulled you into a quick hug. “That’s right, though I might’ve invited you along so that I’m not the only one putting up with his old ass.”

Bucky scoffed, trying to ignore the lack of warmth from your otherwise occupied hands. “Are you sure about this, doll? This is probably gonna end with all of us on a watch list.”

You nudged his shoulder, your own smirk gracing your features. “As if I wasn’t on one already.”

The boys both chuckled, before Sam spoke up. “Speaking of watchlists, he’s here.”

Boarding the private jet that Zemo just happened to have, Bucky tried to keep his eyes on you the whole time, even as you sat in the leather seat between him and the window. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just fascinated by this - I don’t know what to call it,” your brows furrowed at the sentence, at the faint smirk that rested on Zemo’s face. “But this part seems important. Who is Nakajima?”

Bucky was out of his seat in an instant, metal fingers gripped tightly around his throat. Zemo’s face wiped itself of any amusement. Bucky spoke into his ear low and gruff, but it could easily be heard throughout the plane cabin. “You touch that again and I’ll kill you.” 

He snatched the notebook back into his and heavily sat back down into his seat, hand wound tight around the small journal

Your fingers reached across his lap and wrapped around his clenched metal fist, thumb rubbing soothingly over the back of his hand. “Just ignore him, sweetheart. You and I both know nothing that man says is worth anything.” 

Bucky looked down at your joined hands, then glanced up at you with a small smile. He gave your hand a couple of squeezes, and tried to focus back on the words being said throughout the rest of the plane ride. 

—

The first time you called him “baby” was during their fight with John Walker. 

Madripoor and Latvia had been filled with silent stares, small smiles, and soft words . Fleeting “friendly” touches ensued as well - Bucky’s hand on your back drawing small circles, your gentle grasp of his hand or arm when he clenched his fist.

Bucky talked to you about Yori, about his too soft mattress, about his too shitty of a therapist, his want to get a cat. You told him about meeting Sam, your agency background, your agreement that he should totally get a cat. And now, you just wished you could have that again.

Walker was too strong, landing solid hits on both Sam and Bucky that could easily start slowing them down. He had lifted the shield over their bodies too many times, clearly holding on to the same psychotic fury he had when he killed the Flagsmasher.

To this point, you stood frozen in watch. You weren’t there when the fight started, and between Sam and John’s current focus on Bucky, you weren’t sure which side needed the most aid.

John had flung Bucky into a nearby metal utility pole for Christ’s sake, and a cry wretched itself from your lips. You ran to his side as he laid on the ground unconscious, metal arm cackling with untamed electricity. 

“Bucky,” you murmured as you checked his spine for any breaks. You could hear his breath, as shuddered as it was after an impact like that. You moved him to lay on his back, palm pressed to his cheek. “Bucky, honey, come on, wake up.”

You tapped his cheek a couple of times in slight panic, other hand unconsciously combing his hair back. A couple of moments passed before he groaned and huffed out a cough. “Bucky,” you sighed a breath of relief, eyes near tearing up as the tension left your body. “Are you hurt, baby?”

He sat up with a grimace, another groan leaving his lips. “What the fuck?”

“He took the serum,” your hands had yet to leave his face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He looked up at you with a wincing smile, still bright enough to make your heart stutter. “I’m okay, sweetheart.” The red gracing your cheeks could be easily based on the intensity of the fight, but it was unsaid knowledge that wasn’t the case. He touched the hand holding his cheek as you swept a thumb back and forth. A grunt from the fight crashed them both back to reality. “He’s gonna kill Sam.”

You stood up, pulling him with you by his metal arm. Bucky swung his arm around to recalibrate before jogging forward. “We gotta get the shield. Be careful, don’t let him pin you.”

____

The first time you kissed him was in Louisiana. 

You giggled from the picnic table as you watched Bucky dodge Sam’s nephews, cake in hand, as they tried to tackle him for his arm, as well as when several of the children pleading to hang off of it.

He sat next to you on the bench of the table, shoulder pressing into yours as you basked in Sam and Sarah’s storytelling. Bucky shared some bittersweet stories about Steve, drawing smiles from everyone listening. Each laugh had you leaning into him a bit more, but a complaint could not be heard, especially when your hands brushed under the table.

The evening continued on like that into the early night. Bucky entertained the masses, looking a lot like the charmer he used to be. Sam reminisced with his community, taking many photos with his local family. 

You sat on the pier, leaning back against the wooden bench as the sun set over the water’s horizon. You could faintly hear laughter behind you on the dock mixed with the sound of the stereo’s music drifting over. A smile grew on your face as a presence made its way towards you, shoes scuffing against the wooden slats. A soft hand rested on your shoulder and sent warmth through your body. “Care for some company, doll?”

You flashed Bucky a smile that had him weak as you turned back to him and patted the space next to him. He sat down close, thigh pressed against yours, shoulder to shoulder yet again. 

“What’re you gonna do now, Buck? You think you’re gonna stick around?” 

He sighed, staring down at his metal hand in contempt. “I don’t know,” his hand clenched in his lap. “I’ve been following orders for a long time now. Might be good for me to work with someone, not for. Even if birdbrain has a habit of getting on my nerves.”

You reached across his lap and gently unfurled his fingers. He wished the pressure he felt against the metal was more tangible for once, more definitive. “You should do whatever makes you feel the most free, sweetheart.” You slipped both of your hands around his, rubbing small circles with your thumb. “Whether that be with Sam or doing something else. You deserve it.”

Bucky’s eyes drifted over your face and observed its features - the small smile that curled around your lips, the kindness in your eyes. “And what about you?” he spoke softly. “Will you stay?”

You looked up to him and searched his eyes with a hopeful grin. “Are you asking?” you chuckled, using one of your hands to comb his hair back behind his ear, thumb resting on his cheek. “If I’m needed, I’ll stay.”

Bucky puffed out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. “Well ya know,” he threw a bright smile in your direction. “Sam’s gonna need you here so he doesn’t lose his mind.”

You chuckled, leaning a little bit closer.  “And you? Do you need me?”

Bucky took in the space between you, the way your breaths mingled, foreheads near touching. “Yeah, baby,” he allowed himself to fully lean in. “I need you.”

You kissing him was like coming up for air, or finding water in the middle of the desert. It was salvation, it was required for him to have in order to survive. Your lips were soft, tasting faintly of the beer you had earlier. His mouth moved against yours like a magnet following them wherever they went. His hand drifted to your waist, moving you somewhat into his lap as you both smiled into the kiss. When you finally broke apart, it was only for the need for oxygen to fill your lungs. 

You giggled from above him, heads pressed together. Your hands locked themselves around his shoulders in an embrace that forced him to stay where he could feel the pant of your breath across his skin, not that he was complaining. “I guess I’ll stay then.”

Please reblog and comment! It's my first fic in *two fucking years* and i need to know that this is still good lol

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙯𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙨 | helmut zemo x reader

@radmerrmaid requested a drabble with zemo and enemies to lovers. what happened is a whole oneshot. don't ask me how.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: DUBCON SMUT, enemies to lovers/hate sex, rough sex including hair pulling, degradation and name calling, restraint, a slap, and overstimulation, touchstarved reader, unspecified age gap, very mild violence (hand-to-hand combat and a mention of a previous gunshot wound), kidnapping, soft!dark zemo?

"It must drive you crazy," he purred, wrapping his fingers carefully around the crystal glass before picking it up. "Seeing me like this."

He smirked around his sip of bourbon— at least you figured it was bourbon— as you tried to keep a poker face. You didn't like the idea of being seen as crazy at all, let alone because of him. "Like what?" you pressed instead of admitting to it.

"Free," he shrugged. "Out of that cage you worked so hard to keep me in."

"Getting you there was my job," you corrected with a frown. "If keeping you there was mine, too... you'd still be in it."

He laughed lightly, if briefly, and shook his head. "Still so prideful. You're young, and you have something to prove."

"I have nothing to prove to you," you asserted, shifting your weight on your hips— it was sort of uncomfortable to keep standing, but it felt wrong to take a seat even though he'd offered you one when you entered. It seemed like a sign of trust. Not that he should be surprised by you acting aloof, when he'd offered to meet you here without even explaining why.

"No, not to me," he agreed, setting the glass down again and taking one step closer to you. "To your friends at the CIA."

He seemed to emphasize every letter of the acronym, a playful condescension in his tone. "Friends is a funny way to say it," you rolled your eyes, "like I do what I do because I want to be popular, and not because I want to keep the world safe."

"Safe from me," he added, "the evil terrorist. Right?"

You ignored his question, not really wanting to dignify it with an answer— or start some spiel about how you don't really believe in evil people, just actions that merit punishment, bla bla bla...

"Yet, you couldn't keep yourself safe from me," he went on, raising one eyebrow as he examined you. "Or, you can't. Here you are— alone, as I asked."

Obviously, you had tried to imagine some way you could have back-up for this, even just tell someone where you were going. But this was Zemo's turf, and he had eyes and ears all over the city... he would know if you tried to turn this into a sting. Instead, you only hoped to gain some sort of information tonight that you could use to track him down when he tried to run again.

"You're more trusting than I suspected," he smirked, gaze darkening a bit. "Or, more desperate."

"Maybe the right word is 'curious'," you proposed. "Clearly, you have something to discuss with me."

"I do," he nodded. "A question to ask you-- one I feel only you can answer."

You waited for him to ask it, but even just the way he sucked in a sharp breath made you realize he was going to bore you with some preamble first— just like him, really..

"You see, after evading you so many times—"

"Narrowly," you interjected.

"Maybe some times," he shrugged, smiling, "other times, I think I had plenty of room. But that's besides the point... the point is, here I am. I've probably bested you for the last time—"

"That's not—"

"Ah ah, no interrupting, please," he scolded gently. "I know you know that if I can keep a low profile here, your organization has no hope of getting me back. I simply have too many resources, and your superiors know my risk is relatively low. No?"

Again, you refused to answer, but the way you crossed your arms tighter and glanced away seemed to serve as enough of an agreement.

"So that's it— I'm free. It should be so simple," he sighed. "So, why am I disappointed?"

You furrowed your brows, staring at him in confusion. You were waiting for him to say something to give context to that, but he didn't— he only waited for your response with an earnest look. "Why... are you asking me that?" you wondered.

"Because you're the person who knows me best."

You'd never thought of it like that, and it was such a jarring idea that you began to shake your head almost instantly. "No, that... that doesn't seem right..."

"I figured you would take pride in it," Zemo grinned. "You tracked me for years, studied me, learned my habits... I had to do the same to escape you. I must know you better than anyone else."

"That's ridiculous," you scoffed. "What are you trying to say?"

"I just hoped you could tell me why I feel this way— why I feel so wrong about never seeing you again."

Your chest tightened. You couldn't bear to meet his gaze; your stomach felt sick and strange and you just wanted to run out of there, but what good would that do? You needed him to tell you something you could use, one last chance to catch him before it was too late.

"If I didn't know you so well, and hate you so much," he went on, "I wouldn't have the energy to keep running. And me? I'm your biggest case. Sometimes you act like I'm your only case. What is it about me, that you need to win against me so badly?"

"It's not you," you insisted instantly, "it's me— it's who I am."

"Maybe that's how it started," he suggested, "but you can't spend so long hunting someone without becoming a little obsessed with them— trust me, I would know."

You grimaced at him. "You— you can't be serious."

"Who will you be without me to chase?" he pressed anyways, matching some of your anger as he stepped closer again— almost too close. "Without this... passion, between us?"

"Don't step any closer," you warned.

"Or what?" he challenged. "No weapons, no soldiers— it's just the two of us here."

He stepped up again, nearly pressed against you, and you couldn't let him get away with that... you had to prove you meant what you said. You weren't armed, and you knew he wasn't someone you wanted to go up against hand-to-hand... but at the same time, it was one thing you'd always secretly wished for. A chance to wage this war the way it should be, the way it had always been: personal.

You stepped back at the same time as you swung your fist, giving yourself just enough room to gain momentum— but you weren't quite fast enough, and he blocked you. From then on it was fast, instinctual: he was stronger but you were quicker, and on the offensive.

You never quite landed a hit, but neither did he— which felt like a good sign, until you realized he wasn't really giving it his all. Dodging and blocking, yes, but he wasn't trying to win, just keep you at bay.

"Come on!" you yelled in frustration as you finally got in a kick to his chest, forcing him to stumble back and nearly fall. "What are you doing, pitying me?"

"Hardly," he wheezed, a little affected by the hit, which made you smirk. "But I don't want to hurt you."

"Please," you rolled your eyes, putting your fists up and stabilizing your posture. "If we're going to do this, let's do it right."

He came at you, and finally, there it was... his real strength. That passion he'd been talking about, you could feel it.

Both of you were flushed and panting, exhilarated by the sport of it all. Unfortunately, right as you thought you'd found your moment— the weak spot in his form— it was a trap. When you moved in closer, he grabbed you and spun you around, holding your back against his chest so tight that you struggled to breathe.

But he didn't shove you down, didn't put you in a chokehold, didn't even threaten you or gloat about pinning you. Instead, he only held you tighter, and soothed you with a gentle 'shh' in your ear when you tried to squirm out of his grasp.

"Wh-what are you doing?" you whispered, your whole body shaking as he ran his tongue up your neck.

"If it's curiosity that brought you here," he purred in response, "I can satisfy that."

"You can't be fffucking serious," you hissed, though a moan tainted your words as one of his hands ran down your body, the other still effortlessly holding you still.

"I know you so well," he went on, a deep growl in his voice as your eyes fell shut. "I know how lonely you must be. That's one of the things we share."

His hand was heavy and warm against your leg, even through your pants— and it was moving higher, petting your inner thigh as you shivered.  Though your mind longed to resist him, your body was desperate for any affection; because he was right, you were lonely.  You couldn’t think of the last time someone had touched you like this, and yet you remembered it didn’t usually feel this good.  His touch was precise and careful and teasing— not too awkward but not too cocky.  And the heat of him wrapped around you, his hot breath on your shoulder, his wider form encompassing you… how could it feel so good?

“And I know you’ve thought about this,” he added.  “That’s something we share, too.”

He couldn’t know that— he might be rich and resourceful, but he wasn’t omniscient.  If you were any more logical in that moment, you would’ve realized he was just guessing and denied it.  But his teeth brushing over your pulse didn’t exactly provoke your critical thinking skills.  “Fuck, I— fuck,” you choked out instead, shuddering when he chuckled proudly.

“You might hate me, draga, but you need me,” he explained.  “Your mind needs me, just as much as your body does.”

Something about the way his fingers traced up your side, teasing your breast before pulling away right before getting to anything too exciting… it seemed to bring you back to reality, at least partially.  You absolutely couldn’t do this— you couldn’t let him do this.  “G-get off me,” you choked out, struggling against him again.

“That’s what you want?” he taunted.

“Get the fuck off me!” you yelped.

“Make me,” he challenged.

Bringing your foot down hard on top of his, he winced and you managed to break away, spinning around and shoving him back— he actually lost his balance that time, falling to the floor.  You were ready to deliver a firm and swift kick between his legs, but rolled over and grabbed your leg while it was up, bringing you down to the floor with him.

He laughed breathlessly, sounding a little frustrated, as you flailed for purchase against the floor— only for him to grab your wrists and pin you down, positioning himself over you with a grin.  His hair was shaken out of its style, hanging around his face which was flushed from exertion.  “You keep me on my toes, I’ll give you that,” he offered.  You tried to writhe again but he had you properly trapped now, with absolutely no way out.

“You wouldn’t,” you sneered incredulously.

“Wouldn’t what, dear?”

“You wouldn’t force yourself on me,” you completed.

He seemed a little surprised, hanging his head and shaking it.  “Oh,” he breathed, “no, I wouldn’t.”

A little relieved, you started to catch your breath.

“I don’t need to.”

He brought his lips down to yours suddenly— the collision was almost too rough, and yet it was the only thing that made sense for the two of you.  You groaned in protest yet submitted instantly, opening your mouth wide for his desperate and dominating kiss.

Your back arched up off the floor, and his weight seemed to sink down on top of you in response.  Though you hated yourself for it, you spread your legs a bit, just enough for him to rest his hips between— and fuck, you could feel it.  The hard, throbbing heat, you could feel it pressed against you and the most horrible moan was nearly lost to his lips.

He hummed back proudly, running his hands over your body, kissing you faster.

You were gasping for breath when he broke away, which only worsened when he latched onto your neck.  “God, I hate you,” you blurted out, just to remind you both that if this was going to happen, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“You hate me for all those times I embarrassed you?” he assumed, hands holding your waist and starting to slide up your shirt.  “For when I eluded you, wasted your time, made a fool of you?”

“And that time you shot me.”

“I winged you,” he corrected— like that was any better.

He tugged your shirt up and you raised your arms, letting him slip it off; he spotted the scar right away, a line across your arm just under your shoulder.  He cooed for a second before kissing it softly— too gentle a moment for you to let lie.  You shoved his jacket back next, helping him slip it off his shoulders before pulling him down to kiss you again.

Your sports bra had a clasp in the front, it was a bit unique in that way, yet he had no trouble with it.  Freeing your chest, he of course had to tease you a bit more— instead of groping your waiting breasts right away, he guided your arms down from where they held onto the back of his neck, lifting you up from the floor a bit so you could slide the garment off and toss it away.  

When you laid back down, the floor was cold, but the hiss you let out was more a response to him rocking his hips against you, teasing you through these stupid remaining clothes.  “You know why I hate you?” he returned as he started to unbutton your pants, even though you’d entirely forgotten that last part of the conversation.

Before he answered the question, he yanked your pants and underwear down to your thighs— and swiftly got his own out of the way.  Your heart raced; you weren’t totally convinced this was really happening, not until he pushed into you in one painfully sudden thrust.  You cried out, yet he took no mercy on you.  He was ruthless, in fact.

Choking on your broken cries, you arched up off the floor again as he hammered into you, rage and relief and desperation evident in every movement.  He had to hold your legs tightly just to keep you from sliding across the floor, which only ensured you took every stroke as deep as it could go— which was already too fucking deep.

“Say it,” he ordered, “tell me why I hate you.”

“I caught you,” you said— but you knew that would just make him angrier.  Maybe that was kind of the idea.

Stopping just long enough to tug your pants the rest of the way off— and leaving you naked while he was still mostly dressed— he descended over you and looked right at you, far too close, with a rageful stare.

“You trapped me,” he corrected gruffly.  “You played dirty.”

Before you had a chance to retort that all’s fair in love and war, he started to pound into you… harder and meaner than ever.  You didn’t surprise yourself by crying out, considering how intense and nearly painful the feeling was, but you were a little confused that the word you said was a needy yes!

"Those years in prison," he snarled, "you could barely call it living, life in that place— you put me there. I thought every day about how you put me there."

He yanked your hair, making you whine loudly and exposing your neck for his lips and teeth to explore freely.  

Finally, a hand latched onto your chest— a hot palm encompassing your breast and skilled fingers pinching lightly at your nipple.  You couldn’t believe how composed he was through all this— in many ways, he wasn’t, but he seemed to be deliberate with every way he touched you and that was far more togetherness than you had.

You weren’t together at all, actually… something about the heat of the moment, the way your body responded to him, the way he glared at you… you could already feel tension building inside you.  It wouldn’t be long, not if he kept going like this.

“I thought about you every fucking day, draga— that you were free, and I was trapped in that cell,” he growled.  “You missed it, didn’t you?  Chasing me.”

When you didn’t answer, he struck you across the face with the back of his hand; the shock of it made your walls clench on him, or at least you could blame it on that, but you had no way to explain the way you moaned a moment later.

He moved even faster, a sickening wet sound echoing through the room which you hated to acknowledge was your own body.  “The worse I am to you, the wetter you get,” he noticed, smiling for just a moment.  “What a filthy whore you are.”

“F-fuck you,” you stammered roughly.

“Actually, why don’t you?” he offered, grabbing you by the hips and rolling both of you over until he was on his back and you were straddling him.  “Show me how bad you need it.”

As much as you wanted to not do what he told you, your hips were already moving— your body was on its own mission now, desperate for pleasure and friction and heat.  Desperate for anything he would give.  You whimpered as you grinded down on him, feeling his cock go so much deeper than you imagined was possible.  “God,” you sobbed, tossing your head back and trying not to picture the way he must have been looking at you then.

His hands moved all over you, up your thighs and over your breasts, even wrapping around your neck once though they didn’t put on enough pressure to really choke you.  “Pretty girl,” he praised darkly, making chills dance over your skin.

But when his hands settled on your hips, trying to guide you the way he wanted, you’d had enough; you grabbed him at the wrists and leaned forward, pinning his hands beside his head.  He smirked up at you at first, but when you bounced your hips up and down while hovering over him, his eyes fell shut and he let out a deep groan.  “I’m close,” you panted sharply.

“You can make yourself come like this?” he realized, sounding a little impressed.  He opened his eyes and lifted his head for a moment to get a better look at you, before almost instantly giving up again and dropping his head back to the floor with a moan.  “Fine, take it— just take what you need, draga.”

You held tighter to his wrists, mostly to keep yourself stable, and you felt his own hands ball into fists as you bounced faster.  “Oh god, oh god, oh god— yes!” you yelped, legs quivering as it struck you.  It seemed to come and go so quickly, perhaps because your strength gave out halfway through and you felt weak and paralyzed.  It had been ages since you’d felt pleasure like that… actually you weren’t sure you’d ever felt pleasure like that, at least not so much all at once.

If only he were satisfied by that.  With your grip weakened, he easily pulled his hands away to wrap his arms around you, holding you tightly and bucking his hips up into you rapidly.

“Fuck, wait, s-slow down,” you panted, whining weakly as he shook his head against the crook of your neck.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” he purred.  “I won’t be able to slow down at all until you’re full of come, draga.  I want you dripping.”

You were all numb and limp now, so raw and sensitive inside— he put you on your back again and didn’t struggle at all to pull another orgasm from you.  The third, though, was a little more hard fought: he rubbed your clit with an almost painful amount of pressure, watching through dark eyes and with a sneering grin as you screamed and shivered.

“Not too loud, darling,” he warned, “the people in the streets might hear you, the window’s still open—”

“Fuck!” you shouted, high-pitched and shaky, and he covered your mouth with his other hand as he laid on you with a growl.

“Just one more, then I’ll fill you,” he promised.  “I only need to feel you come one more time.  You want a rest, don’t you?”

You nodded weakly, biting down on your shaking lip.

“Then give me what I want.”

Your final cry was stuttered and helpless, every final ounce of energy in your body being taken from you by the final forced peak of ecstasy.  But it wasn’t until you sighed out his name, barely audible under your breath, that he groaned against your neck and pumped himself deep inside you— every drop, leaving you full to the brim and then some.  

You didn’t even have the strength to hold onto him, but he held you far too tightly as if to make up for it, and didn’t let you go for quite some time.

It had only gotten darker and colder out, and the draft through the window eventually danced over your sweat-slickened skin.  When you shivered under him, Helmut lazily reached up to the couch nearby, pulling a throw blanket off of it and wrapping you both up in its soft embrace.  You sighed with relief from both the cold air and the hard floor, not even realizing you were falling asleep. 

Even when you woke up, you didn’t really notice that you’d been asleep— except that Helmut was gone, and the fireplace was going.  Sitting up as little as you could get away with to look for him— since moving at all was quite a task given how tired you were— you heard him coming around the corner and turned back to look at him.

He was in a robe now, and carrying two crystal glasses of water.  He smiled at you as he sat back down on the floor, laying beside you on the blanket and handing you your glass.  “Figured you would need this soon enough,” he explained with a soft voice as you sipped carefully at the water.  You weren’t really ready to talk to him yet, but you wanted to thank him for the water, so you just nodded and hoped that would get the point across.

The silence was probably only awkward for you— he seemed totally at peace, getting through most of his drink before setting it down on the floor and cuddling up to you again with a contented sigh.

You quietly drank the water, staring forward at the crackling fire, hardly believing where you were.  It actually sounded sort of romantic on paper: a dashing and wealthy older man, a penthouse apartment in a foreign city, a fire, a blanket, a crystal glass…

If it weren’t for the wanted terrorist, it might make for a good little fantasy.

Yet, you set your glass aside and laid back down with him.  He slipped an arm around you, holding your shoulder and petting it with his thumb, even kissing the side of your forehead sweetly.  “I don’t understand how you can… be like that,” you whispered, glancing down at his arm crossed over your chest.

“Not everyone is so afraid of their feelings as you are,” he countered, and you snorted a little.

“I’m not afraid of my feelings,” you denied half-heartedly.

“You’re afraid of me, then?” he wondered.

“Not… quite…” you murmured your answer, not even sure yourself what you felt.  “I mean, I drank the water, so—”

“I wondered if you would,” he laughed, “but I’m glad you did.”

“I mean, only half the glass, technically,” you noticed.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ve had enough,” he shrugged.

“Enough?” you chuckled.  “After that, half a glass of water is hardly enough.  I won’t be recovered until I have a protein-heavy meal and probably a couple painkillers— if I wanna, you know, sit or jog or whatever in the next few days.”

“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” he chuckled, “but I didn’t mean enough to recuperate.  I meant enough for you to sleep until we get there.”

“...what?” you asked, turning over your shoulder with knitted brows to look at him.

“If even you know where you’re going, you might find a way to get out is all,” he explained flippantly.

“What… what are you…?” you started, shaking your head— but it didn’t shake off that funny feeling, that heaviness in your head.

“You see, I did think about you every day in my cell,” he went on, “and I thought about how, someday, I would lock you away— so you’d know how it feels, to be a prisoner.”

Whimpering as realization dawned, you sat up quickly to try to fight whatever was in that water… but it only seemed to make it worse, spots forming in your vision like when you stand up too fast— except they didn’t fade, just multiplied.

“I’ll treat you much better than I was, though,” he assured, “in fact, I think you’ll be better off than you were before… you’ll be mine, draga.  No one else will ever see you again.”

You tried to speak but it wasn’t really coming together— you tried to push him away but you only limply held onto him, looking up at his eerily blank expression with your fading vision.  As it all turned to black, he caught your head before it hit the floor, cradling it rather tenderly before kissing your cheek.

“Now,” he whispered to you, though you couldn’t possibly hear it, “let’s get you cleaned up— the plane is waiting to take you to our new home.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Professional Oversight

Masterlist

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, power imbalance, blackmail, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are noticed for all the wrong reasons. (plus sized reader)

Characters: Helmut Zemo, Brock Rumlow

A note on reader characters:

For clarity,  each reader will have a defined nickname when appearing in any installment not their own. This is Scribble.

Note: real life interrupted me

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Donkey love Waffles. Take care. 💖

You stare across the courtyard as you let the spoon stick out of your mouth. You hoped the spring would make the days seem less blurred, maybe bring some excitement to your dull life. You suck the last of the yogurt from the silver and scrape the side of the cup, scooping up the fruit bottom and cream. You savour the last bite, so overly sweet it makes your cheeks twitch. 

You tap the empty cup so it makes a hollow noise. You crush it in your hand and stand to toss it in the bin just across from the bench. You sit again and wipe the spoon before you tuck it away, folding it in the kleenex to sink to the bottom of your purse. You sigh and watch a long-necked goose honk at an oblivious pedestrian. 

You’re used to it. The sounds, the sights, the latent energy of the university green. You thought it would be better to eat there instead of the stuffy office break room but after a while, it’s just as boring and bleak as the old institutional walls. 

You zip up your purse and checked the slender watch on your wrist. Just a little longer before you have to drag yourself back to your shared desk to answer phones and redirect lost students. You don’t hate your job only that it’s all you have. Your life is as fruitless as the used yogurt cup you just tossed away. 

You wake up, eat, get ready for work, go to work, eat lunch by yourself amidst a sea of indifferent people, go back to your desk, then wait until it’s time for you to go home, and there, nothing. Just you and the evenings filled with lonely restlessness. You want to do something, anything, but you just can’t figure out what. 

You aren’t an interesting person. Plain, at best, with no discernible talent. Friends never flocked to you despite your effort, even as pathetic as those were. You’re always a fleeting thought to other people. You’re kept around so long as you are useful; a study buddy, a wing woman, and occasionally, a shoulder to cry on. But there was rarely any reciprocation in those roles and never anything meaningful enough to call friendship. 

You’re distracted from your existential daze by a shadow above you. You look up at the man as he smiles at you. It’s more akin to a leer. That’s odd. He’s odd. Men don’t smile at you, they barely even see you. And he surely doesn’t belong here. Too old to be a student and his jacket too casual to be a professor. 

“You mind if I sit?” he asks without greeting. His tone is brusque but unconcerned. 

You looked at the empty spot on the bench beside you. You hug your purse and sidle over. You shrug and mumble “sure,” but he's already sitting. 

He sits with his legs wide and pushes his shoulders back. He sighs as he stretches out his broad figure. He glances around nonchalantly and leans back with his elbows over the back of the bench. You look at your watch again. What’s a few minutes early? 

“You work here?” he asks before you can stand. 

You blink and furrow your brow at him then glance around at the green campus. You waver on the bench. You should just walk away but you hate to be rude.  

“Uh, yeah?” you answer awkwardly. 

“Not that you-- you don’t look young enough to be a student, you know? I had a hard time telling, which is why I asked,” he explains as he turned his palm up, “I wasn’t meaning-- heh, well, you look like a very nice lady, is all.” 

You poke your tongue out between your lips and quickly retract it. Your thoughts are racing. You should get back to work and away from this man. He gives you this creepy crawly feeling. 

“Brock,” he holds out his hand as your eyes graze the dark five o’clock shadow along his sharp jawline. 

You force out your own name and nervously shake his hand. You’re polite, perhaps overly so, but your customer service instinct can’t be repressed. His grip is firm and his hand big enough to cover yours entirely. He lets you go reluctantly and you hook your purse over your arm. 

“Sorry, I gotta get back to work--” you stand as the sirens in your head tell you to leave. His grips speckles in your hands, throbbing in the bones, tingling on your skin. 

“That’s too bad,” he says coolly, “maybe I’ll see you around.” 

You nod dumbly and step past him. You trod down the path, on your usual route, then stop as your suspicions tug at your mind. You turn back as he remains on the bench, his gaze stuck to you. 

“You work here too?” you call back. 

He shakes his head and smirks. He doesn’t say anything as you frown. He doesn’t move. He just watches. You turned back to your path and quickly stomp away. You’re unsettled by his presence alone but his assured calmness at being an intruder on campus is even more frightening. Not least of all, his interest in you; always an unexpected trait. 

🖊️

After work, you walk across campus without urgency. You fall into autopilot. Your departure trails over its usual route. There’s nothing special awaiting you at your destination; only your couch and a frozen pizza.  

Students still loiter and hop up the steps of the buildings on the way to evening classes. You envy them just as you had when you were in their shoes. You were never really one of them. You always felt like you were on the outside looking in. You didn’t find your niche, you just floated along untethered, still lost in the breeze. 

The lot you park in is mostly empty. You prefer that one even though it’s a ten minute walk from the building you work in. It’s far from the main row and so you didn’t get caught in a jam on your way out, not until you get to the roundabout near the east entrance. 

You stroll along behind the few other cars parked before yours and check your phone for the time. You don’t hear the footsteps as they approach and the dimming sky disguises his shadow. You don't notice any of it until you’re grappled from behind. You’re taken off your feet as a large hand covers your mouth. 

Your phone bounces against the tarmac and your bag is flung from your arm. You kick out and flail, whining into the calloused palm as your eyes prickle. You grasp at the thick arms as you’re spun around to face the open trunk. You kicked at the man’s feet as he bends you and shoves you headfirst into the trunk. You try to push yourself out but he’s too strong. 

The lid shuts and you roll over to beat on it as you holler. Your heart pounds in your ears and your lungs burned as your voice turns to horrible gasps. Panic drowns you as the engine turns over and the car backs out smoothly.

Oh no, no, no. This can’t be happening. 

The suddenness of it all has you dizzy. The man’s scent clings in your nose. You've smelled that before. Your eyes round in the darkness as the tires roll without stopping. No, no, no. That man! The same one on the bench. 

You didn’t forget him. You couldn’t. The abnormality, the absurdity of his introduction, was enough to stick in your head. It’s only that you didn’t let yourself believe it was anything but a strange encounter. You know who you are, you know you’re nothing special. Unlike him, you’re not interesting enough to remember. 

Or so you thought. 

You thump on the lid of the trunk, then the back, screaming. The car doesn’t stop. The man only muffles your voice with the radio. As you continue your assault on the walls of the trunk, he slams on the brakes so that you roll violently into the siding. He does the same several times until you’re quiet and stunned. 

Your adrenaline fades to fear as you can only lay in the dark and dread what comes next. The worst scenarios race through your mind but every now and then, your heartbeat spikes again. You have to get out.

Bang, bang, bang, ‘let me out!’ 

You’re shaken and exhausted but utterly and painfully awake. Whatever comes next, you can’t just put your head down and ignore it. Not like everything else in your life. This is the one thing you have to face, whether you like it or not. You can’t just brush it off, you can’t just forget. 

You wanted desperately for something to happen in your dull life but could never conjure a nightmare as real as this. 

🖊️

When the engine slows and the axle lurches to a stop, you’re not ready. How could you be ready for any of this? You don’t understand why this is happening to you. 

The car shuts off and your heart reaches its paramount. It’s beating so fast you can’t think. You can barely breathe. The car door slams shut and shakes the entire vehicle, making clear that you are overpowered. Footsteps tread over the ground towards the trunk and you steel yourself for the horror that awaits you. 

You know his face before you see it. Even as the shadows swallow up his features, you know him. He grabs you by the front of your blazer, hauling you out without a word. He handles you like a stray caught; rough and agitated. You claw helplessly at him and whine. 

“Please--” 

“Scream one more time,” he spins you and curls an arm around your neck, marching you forward with stunted steps, “and I’ll crush your throat.” 

You gurgle and clasp onto hit thick forearm. Your tears well over, though your face is already raw from the waves of terror that poured over in the black of the trunk. Lights wash over you and give some sense to the grounds around you. 

You expect an abandoned warehouse or some faraway cabin. Somewhere remote where you’ll never be found. Somewhere you’d be forgotten. Who is there to forget you? 

Instead, you make your way up a long walkway before a large mansion. At least compared to your box apartment, it seems as such. Your low heels clack shakingly as the man keeps you firmly hooked. He takes you up the front steps, between replicas of famous status, and lets himself in through the double doors, the brass knockers jiggling with his entrance. 

He doesn’t seem the type to live in a place like this. The thought is silly given your circumstance. Your sobs settle to hiccups as your mind wanders to the tedious and unimportant. Is that a genuine Rembrandt on the wall? 

“Can you walk on your own or do I keep the leash on?” He snarls. 

You gulp and try to nod against his burly muscle, “yes...” 

He lets go at the wisp of your agreement. You shudder and pull away from him, not far as you don’t want to instigate him. You cross your arms and look at him, pouting as tears roll to your chin. It is the man from the bench. You knew it but now you’re certain. 

“Up,” he points to the left branch of the double staircase. 

“Sir, please, why are you doing this--”  

“Sir?” He grimaces, “no questions. Just go.” 

You snivel and put your head down. You turn stiffly to the staircase and reach for the curled banister. You climb with dread heavy in your heels. Your shoe slips off and you stumble. He growls and lifts you under your shoulders, dragging you up the last few steps. 

“Left. Second door on your right,” he commands. 

You whimper and hug yourself again. You obey as peruse along the finely decorated walls. The details assure you that whoever’s home this is has a precise eye. There is some familiarity in the style; it reminds you of some of the offices nestled in the heart of the university. 

He reaches around you, crowding you against the door as he turns the handle. His breath scalds down your neck. Is he smelling you? 

He pushes the door open and snaps his fingers. You enter and look around for an answer. Why are you here? Who has brought you here?  

The leather chair behind the desk has its back to you. You can see a man’s dark hair above it. Like some sort of movie, he turns to face you slowly. You unwittingly step back against the other man as you’re struck by the reveal. 

“Ah, I was starting to think you got lost,” Helmut Zemo intones as his latent gaze meets your startled one. 

His soft brown hair with wisp of silver, the keen way his lips naturally curve, and his dark eyes. He's unmistakable. The vaunted dean of linguistics and language studies is the last face you expect to see.

“Dean?” You murmur dumbly and chuff out several shallow breaths. 

“Hello, darling,” he purrs as he sits forward, putting his elbows on his desk, “I trust you had a safe journey.” 

“I-- what?” You gasp. You turn to look at the man prowling behind you. “No, he--” you choke as he snarls at you.  

You face the dean again. It doesn’t make sense. Why are you here at the dean’s home? You only really know him by his likeness, pasted on every literary publication on campus and hung in the halls across his faculty. You’ve met him once at some lunch but it was that fleeting formal introduction you forget before you’ve even left the event. 

“Rumlow, I told you to be gentle with her,” he tuts and shakes his head, “allow me to apologise for my colleagues behaviour. He isn’t the type for sorries.” 

You mop your cheeks with your cuffs and sniffle. Your a shaking mess. The other man paces towards the other side of the room. He uncaps the decanter there and pours himself a glass of dark liquor. 

“Now, it is rude to serve oneself before a lady,” Zemo snips, “please, she would do well for it.” He turns to you after reproaching his associate; the man he calls Rumlow. “Sit, dear, let us speak civilly before things get... less civil.” 

You suck in a quaking breath, “I don’t understand--” 

“Sit and I shall explain,” he insists. 

You cross the large study and claim the seat across from him. The other man approaches and holds a glass of flat scotch under your nose. The roiling alcohol fumes and makes your eyes water anew. You accept it he loudly slurps his own. 

“Thank you, but I...” 

“Drink. I believe you will need it.” 

The dean’s words draw your attention back to him. You make yourself sip and scrunch up your nose at the taste. You don’t drink. It only gives you a headache. 

“Now, I’ve brought you hear because I would like to review your work,” he smirks and goosebumps raise on your skin. Rumlow looms close as Zemo’s tone puts you on edge. “I do enjoy when university staff are so eager to put their work out there.” 

You’re confused. What does he mean? You’re not a PhD, you’re no faculty spending hours writing papers on physics, you’re just a registrar’s assistant. 

“Ahem, let me just...” he pauses and unfolds a tablet on the desk. He props it up in the case and pulls his glasses down to his nose. He taps the screen and begins to read, “'You can hardly believe it’s real. That you’ve put yourself in this position. There’s no going back now. There is no escape from this man...'” he pauses and looks up at you, waiting for a reaction. Your spine tingles, “let me go on to my favourite passage,” he refocuses on the tablet, “’his rough hands grazed her soft skin, making her shiver, making her whine. He smothers her protests and her breath as he drowns her in a hungry kiss”.” 

Again he looks at you. You sink down in chair and turn your attention to the liquor. Oh no. You make yourself drink. You don’t stop until it’s empty. The other man laughs. 

“You have a way with prose,” Zemo praises. 

“Please,” you choke through the burn, “I... its just stories. They’re meant to be private. It’s...” you bite your lower lip. It still doesn’t make sense. “Why am I here?” 

Now both men laugh. You’re the joke. You look between then. Rumlow approaches and you shy away. He takes the empty glass and walks away with it. He clinks it down with his own on the oak bar. 

Zemo watches you intently. You rock in the chair. He could’ve fired you in the office, so what is all this? 

“I like your hypotheses,” he slithers, “I thought we might test them out. As is the academic way.” 

“What?” You pulses thumps in your temples, “what do you--” 

Rumlow startles you as he closes his hands around your neck from behind. He hushes you as he squeezes your yipe into a croak. He drags you up to your feet as you writhe and kick out. One of your shoes falls off in your struggle as he lurches you forward. 

“You know, fantasy can be such a good outlet for... self-discovery,” the dean stands as his chair rolls out behind him, “but it pales in comparison to the real thing.” 

“Please--” you crackle out of your throat as Rumlow squeezes your neck tighter. 

“And reality is a writer’s companion. Their work is always better when they have experience to draw on,” he comes around the desk as Rumlow brings you to face him. You can’t help but press yourself to the other man as the dean closes in. “And a creature like you, you’ve never felt desired. That much is clear. It drips from your words. These stories are a plea for more.” 

He runs his fingers up the lapel of your blazer and urges it down your shoulders and arms. You quiver as you’re trapped between the two men. You can only stare wide-eyed as you reach back weakly to claw at the bigger man’s jacket. He growls and you quickly retract. 

“Now, darling, the fear will only make it all the more... exciting,” he draws out the last word teasingly, “have you not written this one already?” 

You whimper as he unbuttons your blouse. You quake as he bares you plain white bra and you quivering stomach. The other man pushes his crotch to you, grinding with a snarl. 

“Ah, Rumlow, patience,” Zemo warns as he peels your blouse down your arms, “my colleague can be rather... impulsive.” 

Your head swells and spins. This can’t be real. You just can’t believe it. The humiliation of being found out is burned through by the fear coursing in your veins. 

“Please,” you eke out again. 

“Shhh,” he presses a finger to your lips and toys with the bottom one. “Mmm,” he turns his hand to frame your mouth, “how has no one ever noticed these pretty lips?” 

He leans in and kisses you. The other man moves a hand to the back of your neck, pinching so you squirm. Rumlow’s other hand hooks around to cover one side your chest, kneading through the unlined cup as you’re suffocated by Zemo’s mouth. 

Zemo purrs and draws back. He licks his lips and hums again. His fingertips crawl down your sides and across your stomach. You squeak and flinch as Rumlow squeezes your neck harder. 

“Darling, you can be good, can’t you? I fear you’ve been for too long,” Zemo taunts, “but can my associate let you go? Might we trust that you are to struck with lust that you cannot possibly flee?” 

You suck in air and babble. You only want the pain to stop. You nod, “yes...” 

“Yes, Dean,” he corrects and sends a look to Rumlow. 

The vice falls away from your neck, instead tugging at the hook of your bra. Zemo’s gaze falls to your tits and he purrs. He fondles you brazenly, running his thumbs over your nipples as the point through the thin fabric. 

“So plain one must appreciate the simple beauty,” he squeezes and leans in to kiss along your cleavage.  

You bra slackens and he lets go to let it slip down. Rumlow untangle it from your arm as Zemo gropes one side of your chest and seals his lips around your nipple. You moan and the air turns static at the vocal betrayal. 

Rumlow laughs and his hand spreads across the other side of your chest. He rolls your nipple harshly, tweaking as you whine. His hand falls down and he feels along your saft tummy. He growls as he slaps your ass with his other hand. You jolt and Zemo’s mouth pops off your tit. 

“Delectable,” he snarls and gives a nip to your flesh. 

Rumlow yanks down the elastic of your plain slacks. The cheap sort you order online. Your panties slip down halfway as he forces the fabric past your thighs. You reach to brace Zemo’s shoulder without thinking, feeling as if you might tip over. 

He touches your elbow as he bends to once more teethe and tease your tits. He bounces them then crushes his face between them. You stare down in shock, still paralysed in disbelief. 

Rumlow rolls your panties down your ass, your ankles bound up in the gathered wool and cotton. He shifts and lowers himself to his knees. He covers your ass with his large hands and you waver on your feet. He pulls your cheeks apart and snarls again. The man sounds like an animal. 

You yelp as he pushes his face into your ass and his tongue swipes along your tight hole. Oh god! Oh! Your muscles knot and coil and you hug Zemo’s head to keep from tipping between them. You reach one arm back as you arch your back and latch onto the other man’s shoulder. 

You drone out a startled but sultry moan. It’s unlike anything you’ve felt before. You haven’t felt this before. Another’s touch. Another’s hunger. You puff out shallow gasp as you’re caught in the storm of warring sensations. Your fear dissipates as you’re overcome by the slow build of please. 

You close your eyes as you try to pretend it’s just one of your stories. One of the many written fantasies you used to tamp down that need for desire. For this! Even alone, even your own touch, could not ease the longing that needles inside you. 

“Darling,” Zemo growls as he kneels in turn and grips your hips, doting on your stomach. He makes your imperfections feel perfect as he worships you with his mouth. 

Rumlow lets out another growl as he laps and his finger tickles up to meet his tongue. You squeal as he pokes his fingertip inside of you, the scalding intrusion tingling in your thighs. It hurts but in a way that you want more. Without a thought, you lean back, urging him deeper into your ass. 

Zemo traces along your pelvis and over the patch of curly hair. His fingers wander between your legs, nudge them apart and he toys with your clit. You quiver as he rolls over your bud, flicking and swirling as you slicken. You feel the blood swelling at his touch. 

He leans forward on the heel of one hand and tilts his head up, delving into your folds. He trails his hand down your thigh and sucks on your clit as he purrs. Rumlow pulls his finger in and out of your ass as you tighten around him, your walls pulse at their duality. 

Your stomach coils and your insides ripple. A tightness bounds you up as you puff out heavily and spasm through the sudden release of tension. You grip Zemo’s hair, forgetting the man has more than a physical hold over you, your other hand curling on Rumlow’s shoulder. You cum with a warbling yawl as you throw your head back. 

Neither man stops until you’re a shaking mess. Until your legs are so slack that you lean back on the man behind you and your whole body threatens to fold over. Rumlow slides his finger free and Zemo wipes his wet lips up your pelvis before he sits back on his heels. 

The move you as you pant loudly. You have no strength left to resist them. You’re strewn across the leather chaise that sits mirror to the desk at the other end of the room. The men circle you as your head lolls and you lay naked but for one heel still on your foot. 

They undress without a word between them. It’s clear this is planned. That they have every single second of the night calculated. You can only get through it. 

As Zemo reveals his furry chest, your cheeks raze with fire. You’re embarrassed more to see the dean like this than for him to see you. You turn your face away only as Rumlow stands even more bare.  

His chest is covered in coarse black hair that trails down to his pelvis. You gasp at the sight of his rigid length bobbing before him. His thighs are corded with thick muscle and his stomach tightens as he steps closer. 

Your turn your head again and nearly squeal at Zemo. Slighter than the other man he is no less eager to have you. As he nears, you curl into yourself. 

They don’t let you disappear or detach. Rumlow grabs you, lifting you off the leather, and takes your places across the chaise. 

Zemo guides you, something in his hand. You can’t keep up with any of it. He turns you to face the other man, nestling his chin into your shoulder as he holds himself flush with you. He sways you and he presses the shape between the top of your cheeks and squirts coolness down your ass. 

He tosses the bottle onto the chaise and it bounces to rest at the end. He rubs the lube around your hole and dips his fingers in, once, twice, three times. He nuzzles you and moves you closer to the leather bench. 

Rumlow reaches for you. Both men guide you over his prone body. You’re made to straddle him with your back to him. He grips his dick and taps the tip on your ass, sliding between your cheeks as he wets himself with the lube. Zemo grabs it and reaches around you. Another squirt adds to the wetness. 

Rumlow pushes his tip against your ring. You yelp and try to pull away. He grabs your shoulder and holds you in place, stretching you around him slowly. You shake at the deep and fervent agony that radiates up your back. 

Zemo coos at you as he strokes your cheek. He climbs up on the chaise as Rumlow drops his legs over the sides. He sits before you, coaxing you as the other man eases you onto his dick. You grit your teeth and cling to the dean’s wrists as he kisses your forehead. 

“It’s alright, darling, you’re doing good,” he praises and pets your head, “just a little more, mm?” You sink down another inch and whimper, “a little more,” he repeats. When at last you bottom out, tears spring fresh down your face. “Very good, darling.” 

“She’s tight,” Rumlow snarls and starts to rock you, “holy shit, she’s fucking--” 

“Language,” Zemo girds as he continues to stroke your face, “you hear that, darling? You are so good. Hm? He likes you.” 

“Weirdo,” Brock mutters but keeps you moving. 

Zemo runs a hand down your body. A tide rolls through you at the soft graze of flesh, and he once more finds your clit. You’re overly sensitive and so full already. He toys with you as you pout out shallow pants. He slowly lays you back as Rumlow takes you across his torso. 

Zemo dips his fingers into your cunt and out again, smearing around your slickness. As his eyes fixate on your cunt, you close your own, hiding beneath your lids. The other man continues to rock from beneath you, stretching you to your limit. 

As Zemo drags his hand from your cunt, the chaise shifts with his weight. He moves closer, draping your legs around him as he slides his tip along your entrance. He pushes along your folds, wetting himself as you quiver, then aligns himself again. He forces his tip inside, just the head, and lingers. 

He raises himself and bends over you as your muscles tug with tension. Rumlow grunts from below as Zemo bends over to kiss you and inches further inside. You nearly cough into his mouth as he gets deeper and deeper. Oh, god, you don’t know if you can take it. 

Rumlow brings his hands around to kneads your tits, his hips tilting as the other bottoms out in your cunt. They both groan as if they can fill your fullness. You throw your arms around Zemo and gnash your teeth, mewling and moaning as you sink your nails into his back. 

He kisses along your chin and cheeks as he starts to thrust. Long, languid, and calm. It has you on fire as the other man matches his tempo. A torturous teasing rhythm that has you writhing and whimpering. 

You’re crushed between them, bodies sweaty and sticking, the friction of hair and skin, of saliva and need. Your head lolls as Zemo nips and sucks as Zemo nips and sucks at your throat, a hand snaking under your ass, basking in the feel of you as nails graze tender flesh. 

A roughness from below as Rumlow bucks his hips harder, plunging deeper, breathing across your scalp as he grunts and growls. His pinches and gropes your chest as your spine curves wantingly. You succumb to your basest desires, to the fantasies you fall asleep to, the very same that you put to paper. It’s horrid but it’s oh so delightful, being used and bruised and tortured until you just can’t think. 

“That’s it, darling, you see how natural it is,” Zemo purrs as he quickens, “how you give yourself over to your purpose. You always knew you would...” he speaks between stolid groans, “those weren’t only stories...” he cradles your head and lifts it, looking deep into your eyes as he ruts into you, the man below you matching his time, “you were begging for this.” 

Your eyes roll back and you cum again. You feel something inside you snap, like a dam breaking with the pressure of a deluge, you gush out around the men, squeezing and twitching until you are hollow. Yet they don’t stop. They keep going. 

Rumlow sits up as Zemo moves with him, bringing you into his lap. The man behind grips your shoulder as his pelvis claps against your ass and the one before you sits back as you shake around him. He holds your head up as it threatens to wobble on your neck. 

You orgasm again. Your lashes flutter, your heart too. Every part of you is pulsing. Their gristling, grinding voices storm in your skull, almost maddening as their bodies sandwich yours. 

“Shittttt,” Rumlow drawls and bends his head forward, biting into your shoulder as he empties himself in you. He quakes as slows and sits back, twitching as he keeps you around him. 

Zemo sighs as you feel his own release. His hips rock subtly as he cums and holds you close, his eyes roving down to watch you tremble. When at last you’re still, the tremors do not fade. He grazes his knuckles down your stomach and you moan. 

“Shall we try that sweet mouth?” Zemo brushes long you lower lips. 

“Fuck yeah,” Rumlow growls, causing the other man’s eyes to glint.  

He might pretend to be proper but dean has proven himself just as sinister as any man; in reality or fiction alike. 

[bottombaron]

ranking the Thunderbolts characters by how likely they are Zemo in disguise

some context: a character being revealed as Zemo in disguise in a genuinely unexpected twist is somehow hilariously common for the character in the comics (if i had a nickle for each time i’d have at least four, and that's almost a whole quarter!). most notably however it’s in the very first introduction of the Thunderbolts team. the Thunderbolts are kind of synonymous with a Zemo related twist at this point. basically, with the DC not-alive-anymore-by-choice squad you can count on the team having their implanted neck-bombs and with the Thunderbolts you can count on Zemo being hidden somewhere like a murderous purple Where’s Waldo.

SO, while everyone is like “where is Zemo?” and “why isn’t Zemo in the Thunderbolts movie?”, i remain steadfast in certainty that he’s going to show up in the third act,,, despite there being literally no evidence to the contrary. also this is just for fun so don’t take it seriously unless i’m right then i told you so.

these rankings go from least to most likely

0 / 10

Ava Starr

-because Zemo knows better

——————————————————————

1 / 10

John Walker

-he would have to dress up in an American propaganda outfit

-Zemo might have to intimately deceive Walker's wife and child and that's creepy

-he has the Super Soldier Serum

-calls Bucky “Bucky”

-even Zemo wouldn't ignore Walker's crying child like that, comeon man

——————————————————————

2 / 10

Yelena Belova

+surprisingly not completely unthinkable???

+like maybe as a gag it could play?

+i think it’s because they both have that tiny stabby assassin energy

-obviously it would be super weird, confusing, and narratively unsatisfying for both characters

-Yelena and Florence deserve their spotlight and i wouldn't want anything to detract from that

——————————————————————

3 / 10

Alexei Shostakov

+only slightly above Yelena in believability simply for him being more expendable narratively (so the character not actually being himself in the movie wouldn’t be as much of a let down)

-he’s not particularly similar to Zemo in any way

-like Walker, he has the Super Soldier Serum, so it’s unlikely Zemo would disguise himself as Alexi by choice

-it seems exhausting just being Alexi for any length of time, even for Alexi

+bonus: in the trailer, Alexi b-lines for the bar the instant they exit the elevator in the former Avenger's tower. total Zemo behavior

——————————————————————

4 / 10

Taskmaster

+same height

+non-powered (if you don’t include mimicry but i think Zemo could fake it for a short amount of time)

+wears a mask and doesn’t talk much, making for easy impersonation

+scarred face is similar to Zemo’s scarred face in the comics

-their builds don't match up to a passing glance and unlike Yelena, with her more baggy clothes, Antonia is wearing a fitted outfit, making it more difficult to pass (i don't need it perfect mind you, just enough to suspend believability juuust a little)

-mostly it's just the vibes tbh

-idk man im not feeling this theory anymore and i used to be a Zemo in the Taskmaster suit truther

-maybe it's the suit redesign 🤷‍♂️

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5 / 10

Bob/Sentry/The Void

now we’re getting to the ones where i start to vibe with, but also would need a whole lot of exposition

basically, if you wanted to give a guy like Zemo brain scramblies, make him forget who he is, do some experiments (possibly à la Hydra on Wanda/Pietro? finally pulling on that dropped thread of Sokovians having a higher rate of manifesting powers -specifically Wanda’s reality warping powers- when exposed to the Mind Stone than the average human?) and try to corrupt him into an American branded superhero with a mild-mannered personality, you usually give him a three letter name. like Bob. or Jim.

turning to a comic that i can't believe more people dont talk about in relation to Zemo and the Thunderbolts: Welcome to Pleasant Hill

there's a lot in this comic that gives precedent to the twist of Zemo (and the audience) believing they're just a common, good-natured, all-American before finding out it's a lie in an elaborate supermax prison system. (this will definitely come up in almost all other thoughts and theories i have, including the character on this list that i'm most interested in. i'm kind of obsessed with this comic tbh) the story even involves Bucky, the Thunderbolts, the Cosmic Cube (which is the Space Stone in the MCU - related to the Mind Stone) and reality warping/memory altering similar to the Sentry’s own comic twist. and yes, it’s basically the plot of WandaVision before WandaVision except that the warden wasn't a grief stricken Wanda but a surprisingly Valentina Allegra de Fontaine-ish Maria Hill (put a pin in that similarity). there's also the fact that the MCU loves to merge characters into one, like the upcoming Doom-Stark combo.

so how does this work? hell if i know. Zemo could be forced to change his appearance with that Black Widow spy mask thing? maybe the only ones who see Bob as Bob are the ones who don't really know him + Walker who's easily deceived?? idk. it's a pretty big stretch (but not as big the next one on this list!) the most probable scenario of this one happening is Zemo somehow being tied to Bob’s alter, The Void. again, not probable at all unless the movie does some trippy stuff, but it’s fun to imagine the possibilities.

+the trailer seems to suggest said trippy identity/mind stuff, which you would need to pull this off

+Loki’s staff that once housed the Mind Stone in Sokovia could be a reference to Kobik/the Cosmic Cube that creates Pleasant Hill in the comics

+uhhh Bob and Joe are both three letter names??

+in the Pleasent Hill comics Zemo kind of looks Bob/Sentry like?

-a major thing that holds this theory waaaaaaay back is the fact that Steven Yeun was going to play the part of Sentry first and its highly unlikely they would Plot Twist him into a white man (or god i at least hope not)

-ultimately, there's just not a lot of places this reveal could go imo so /shrug

——————————————————————

8 / 10

Countess Valentina Allegra de Fontaine

look ok hold with me here bc we both know that when those heels started clacking outside the Senate hearing in TFATWS everyone was thinking that it was Zemo rocking them for a whole hot second. I KNOW. I REMEMBER. I WAS THERE.

does this make sense? no, not really. should comedy legend Julia Louis-Dreyfus unmask as Zemo in drag in the third act of a big, multi-million dollar franchise movie made by The Mouse?? absa-fucking-lutly.

i even think it would go over with audiences for the most part. they’d see Zemo, Zemoing about, and go, oh yeah ok that tracks.

+Bucky kind of looks like he’s playing the role of Val’s bodyguard/muscle and his demeanor reminds me so much of TFATWS when he was playing the same role for Zemo

+Bucky knowing this whole time that Val is Zemo and is reluctantly going along with his grift for whatever reason is so funny to me idk why

+Bucky saying “what's the plan” in the trailer just feels better if he is saying it to Zemo

+Bucky is wearing some of his old WS gear and who put him in that last? Zemo

+her line about there being bad guys and worse guys is very on par with Zemo’s pessimistic mentality, maybe justifying an Avengers team up as a necessary evil?

+there should only be one unpowered, tiny, bitchy, manipulative, mastermind serving cunt in a purple jacket in the MCU and Val is crowding Zemo’s throne. solution: Zemo uses Val as his public identity (you know, because of all the war crimes. Val has almost certainly done similar war crimes but they were for the U.S. government so she’s safe to masquerade as) and leads the Thunderbolts with nobody being the wiser

+this also means keeping Julia Louis-Dreyfus around and thats worth like, a hundred '+'s

+the purple. the royal titles. oh, it’s all coming together

+totally think that JLD and Daniel Brühl could pull this off i’m not even joking

+it would delight and entertain me

+Zemo would be leading the Thunderbolts team as he should be

-i fear a shadow of transphobia looming around this idea (with a female character being revealed to be a man in disguise) and that instantly sucks any fun out of it

-Zemo’s ideology would have to do a complete 180 hairpin turn or be a very elaborate plan to sabotage things from the inside, kind of making it difficult to buy into the whole thing in the first place

-its never going to happen

——————————————————————

8/10

Bucky Barnes

ohhhhhhh kkkk

here we go

here’s all that twitter stuff abt how there’s reason to believe that the person shooting at the limo isn’t Bucky at all or that he’s being brainwashed again:

personally, i don’t feel WS here but maybe that's because Seb is doing a little bit of his Judge Dredd scowl and there’s too much going on behind the eyes? it still feels like Bucky still imo, even if his actions are like, a bit extreme. it’s that whole “i had to go to work today” energy that Bucky perpetually puts out lol. basically i didn’t get the vibe that he’s Winter Soldiering, or even that he’s trying to kill the team, i just get the vibe he was tasked with rounding up and escorting the group back to Vale and he’s doing it his usual undelicate way. of course, this is only 3 seconds from a teaser so all those details could be right or wrong in the film, only time will tell.

BUT this reasonable talk is counterproductive to this crackpot theory, so…

The Zemo being brainwashed or otherwise manipulated/reality altered into believing (or pretending to be) he’s Bucky/WS theory:

+if i had a nickel for every time Zemo in the comics was brainwashed/tortured into believing he was Bucky/Bucky adjacent and/or the narrative obfuscating which one was which, i’d have at least two nickels

+and that is purposeful btw, in the comics Zemo and Bucky have a strange thematic connection. it’s not a coincidence that when Steve was still grieving Bucky, here came a guy with ties to his past (specifically the son of the man who ‘killed’ Bucky) that would have been roughly the same age as Bucky if he didn’t ‘die’. Steve then commits to saving Zemo time and again, dispite what a complete fuck-up he is. so, Zemo hating Bucky but also kind of having this deep inner desire to be him at least has thematic presence in the comics

this motherfucker literally keeps a shrine of Captain American memorabilia, including putting Bucky’s old costume in a lit glass display case

-on the other hand, MCU Zemo is almost nothing like his comic counterpart and certainly doesn’t hate Bucky or want to be him

+on the other-other hand, there’s far too many similarities to MCU Zemo and the MCU Winter Soldier to ignore and the text of the movies/show seem to continuously remind us of that in little ways

+so in this theory Zemo wouldn’t be impersonating Bucky Barnes per se, he’d be the Winter Soldier

+who, conveniently, has Sebastian Stan’s face so Daniel Brühl wouldn’t have to be on set as much nor have to do any stunt work. good for him

means, motive, and opportunity:

+Val most definitely has access to the raft (and by extension Zemo) as the head of the CIA

+we also know that Val must have access to some form of the Super Soldier Serum if the Sentry is involved, and the clutter of Sentry related branding in the trailer seems to indicate Val/OXE/the U.S. government has been trying to create their own superhero, Homelander style

+Val also has access to all sort of means of manipulating Zemo's sense of identity. chemical memory alteration, use of off-world artifacts, the old fashioned WS programming way, or even all that Stark tech that was confiscated by Damage Control…remember B.A.R.F.?

+the whole choice to use Zemo could even be out of convenience. he’s already had extensive military training, was a successful black ops commander, he literally has nothing left, not even citizenship to a country

+nobody would look for him or wonder where he is or if he’s even still alive

+even if they did, would they care? to most people, he's a super villian. even people who might object morally, like Sam or the Wakandans seem to be too busy with their own shit rn anyways

+Bucky is literally the only one left who might object and if they're using his identity to carry out clandestine missions then they have leverage. keep quiet and you have a job, prestige, perks, etc. without having to actually do any of the dirty work. don't, and we spin this like you went off WS style and there's nobody to keep you from being locked up anymore. plus Bucky hates Zemo right? why would he care if he's America’s Winter Soldier

+this also allows for a built-in deniability for Val/the government if Bucky!Zemo was ever caught on a mission. that can't be the Winter Soldier doing assassinations in Europe if you can see Bucky Barnes at a Congress meeting on public tv at the same exact moment

+as to motivation, other than all the reasons stated above, it's clear that Val doesn't want a Captain America. she said as much to Walker in TFATWS. while it might work to her advantage to have a controlled Avengers team for her public image, it helps her far more to have someone reliable to do her dirty work

+creating a black ops assassin à la the Winter Soldier, but for America, would be her goal

+and sure, she had Walker and Yelena under her payroll already (and we assume Ghost and Taskmaster as well) but they don’t have that living action figure, perfect soldier rizz. in various ways im going to assume they've disappointed her, questioned orders, or just generally was too human

+so why Bucky's identity? easy. he's already got a whole brand. i can hear the sardonic lines out of JLD mouth about how hard it is to create something new when you can just reboot it. Bucky has a legend as the Winter Soldier, one that still carries a lot of clout. she wouldn't even need to deploy him for assassin reasons, just use him for negotiations and fear tactics. the Winter Soldier is already a verified threat at an international level, you can't buy that kind of marketing. using Bucky's face and WS identity would be essential to her

+wouldn’t just brainwashing the real Bucky again be easier? well, other than the advantage of having Bucky and the WS be separated people as mentioned above…the last two times Bucky Barnes was brainwashed to be the Winter Soldier and otherwise held against his will, an empire fell (S.H.I.E.L.D./Hydra and The Avengers). so, while i’m sure Val has a fondness of the Rule of Three as much as i do, i also think she’s smarter than that

+i’m sure she’s even approached Bucky directly and has probably tried to manipulate him with a job that looks legit on the outside and gets him a nice private house. but Bucky isn’t going back to the WS role, it’s not going to happen. and he’s already side-eyeing Val pretty hard in that trailer so her perfect soldier he won't be

so Val has means, opportunity, and motivation to take Zemo and turn him into her very own super assassin. but lets take this a step further.

this post by magnitothemagnificent brings up a great theory that Bucky here could actually be Jack Monroe, more importantly brings up one of Jack's alter egos, Scourge.

this same guy from the comic page above

(for my theory, obviously, instead of Jack, it would be Zemo as a Scourge-like character)

+we know that there is a version of the serum going around to create the Sentry, and that the Sentry's #1 personality trait in the comics is his mental instability

+we know that, in the comics, Jack Monroe was driven mad specifically by the Super Serum he was given. it messed with his sense of reality and identity in big ways including making him believe he actually was Bucky, instead of just taking up his mantle

+possibly, this version of the serum is responsible for the mental instability of everyone who takes it, creating delusions and hallucinations and this is what affects the Sentry’s mental stability and warps this hypothetical Bucky!Zemo/Scourge's sense of reality

+this could even tie into Walker's story, as it seemed like he escalated in his instability after taking the serum (you know, there's actually a fairly large connection between Walker/US Agent and Monroe too hmm…)

in the comics, Monroe is being controlled (through nanites, so idk maybe Stark Tech?) by a very Zemo-type motivated guy who hates supers and even works for the Commission on Superhuman Activities (basically the same people who created the Sokovia Accords in the MCU, led by Ross and the UN). being controlled by this man, Monroe, as Scourge, is forced to attack and kill super powered people and targets the Thunderbolts. Comic Zemo is literally beheaded by him in a page that definitely tries to make the reader think that it is Bucky Barnes attacking Zemo (this was before the Winter Soldier Brubaker run that brought back Bucky Barnes, so at the time Bucky was still thought to be very dead for over 50 years)

and the Scourge suit would explain other parts of this theory, such as why is that literally Sebastian Stan’s face?

+the suit comes with a camouflage feature and image inducer so looking just like Bucky wouldn't be a problem (in the comics, previous versions of Scourge, one who i actually believe was Jake Monroe, just used latex masks, even disguising himself as a woman more than once -go Val=Zemo theory!- but the most important detail is that Scourge has always been a master of disguise, so that element is already built into the lore of the character)

how would Zemo be able to mimic the Super Soldier Serum?

+if he's not being dosed by Val with a version of the serum, the suit has various means of mimicking increased strength

but unless they really committed to amputating an arm and have a Wakandan prosthetic laying around, how would Zemo have the metal arm?

+from what i can tell, we don’t actually see Bucky’s metal arm in this scene? i believe it’s covered up with a jacket. and even if some of it shows, that could be a CGI misdirect. otherwise the Scourge suit would answer this too, specifically the metal-looking high-tech gauntlets that he wears could be made to at least look like Bucky’s arm and do the same things Bucky’s arm can do

but what about real Bucky?

+we have to first buy into the two Bucky’s theory, which i don’t actually hate. there’s Bucky trying his best in the trailer and then there’s an impersonator out there doing his best Winter Soldier. this way we don’t run into the same problems of a third act reveal like with the others (not actually following the real Bucky Barnes). we would be, hopefully with a confrontation between the two in the climax, getting almost an out of body visual of Bucky’s inner turmoil. him vs the winter soldier identity and everything that represents to him

even having Bucky wearing the Winter Soldier gear would have a cool call back to the Scourge suit:

+the suit in the comics has two gauntlets that can access various tools and weapons by simply voicing a code. they appear as if from thin air but in reality it is a clever use of pym particles

+these weapons aren't even just regular ‘ol things but rather he has a whole arsenal taken from other heroes and villains

+so a suit that carries the whole Winter Soldier arsenal, despite us having every reason to believe Bucky wouldn't have those things anymore, could be a fun way to reference that

speaking of the WS arsenal:

+I know its just a coincidence, but its worth noting that, as others have pointed out, Bucky is predominantly carrying the Škorpion vz. 61 (also known as the Sa vz. 61 Skorpion) in the trailer and in the poster. which was the gun that used to attach to the harness on the WS suit

+Zemo's paramilitary team from Sokovia, EKO Skorpion, was, at least partially, named after the Serbian Skorpion paramilitary force. the real life Serbian Skorpions named themselves after their favorite gun, you guessed it: the same Škorpion vz. 61 that is used by the WS

+additional fun(?) fact: the real life Serbian Skorpions had a secret relationship to the CIA and the CIA might have had a hand in the Yugoslav wars (shocker). if we follow this trajectory, it's possible that Val could have had connections to Sokovia and Zemo as early as the 90s/early 2000s, working as a CIA agent involved with the Sokovian Civil War

+if Hydra was involved with instigating the civil war in Sokovia (as they almost certainly were as it gained them a great advantage in establishing their base there) and Val truly is Madame Hydra, then that would establish pretty strong connective tissue between Val, Sokovia, Zemo, and the WS/Bucky

taking us to Pleasant Hill again:

i love this panel in relation to the Thunderbolts bc this is everything that Yelena is struggling with and seems to be the central theme of the movie, these broken people finding purpose in a world that they’ve been alienated by

+now the major twist in the comic wasn’t just that Zemo is really mild-mannered Jim, but rather the readers were manipulated through various means into believing that Jim was actually Bucky until the end reveal

+combining these things (the Pleasant Hill comic run and the Jack Monroe/ Scourge comic run) creates a story where the audience is led to believe Bucky is Winter Soldiering about, attacking and possibly trying to kill the Thunderbolts team

+but in reality it is actually Zemo, being manipulated and controlled by Val thru various sci-fi means to make Zemo just appear as Bucky

some other things:

+the last person to imitate the WS specifically? Zemo

+and he literally did it with just some prosthetics and theater kid energy

+their height difference is concealable with some heels and Zemo would know how to run in them

+this might even explain Bucky's bad hair:

+like ok hold with me here but Daniel Bruhl had this same exact hair cut for his role as Karl Lagerfeld

did he keep the hair during Thunderbolts filming? i have no idea. but its fun to imagine

and finally,

+the popular Bucky/WS left hand theory. while i’m not necessarily convinced just by this trailer (even tho i really like the theory and the visual importance of Bucky using his metal/left arm), this would gain added legitimacy if it’s actually Zemo impersonating the WS

+because, while Bucky may not be left handed,

+Zemo is

——————————————————————

10 / 10

this gerbil

+100% Zemo, he’s not even in disguise here that’s just Daniel Brühl on set

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Sweet Pumpkin Chapter 5

Summary:  Bucky is struggling with the dating world and knows that if he ever hopes to have a serious relationship, that he needs to get through his touch deprivation issues.  It’s not that he doesn’t want to touch people, or them to touch him, but after decades of pain he doesn’t know how to accept physical intimacy from others, or how to give it himself.  He hires Y/N, an intimacy coach and professional cuddler, who comes highly recommended.  Will his heart be able to distinguish between a service given versus real love?

Warnings: mentions of past violence and past sexual assault, language, physical intimacy, eventual smut

**curvy reader

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Their relationship very quickly progressed after that.  Neither of them saw any point in waiting any longer when they both felt good about themselves and where the relationship was taking them together.  Bucky moved into her apartment, not bringing much of anything with him since he loved her stuff so much.  He only went on missions every once in a while, and only ones that were more stealth or surveillance.  He was tired, both physically and mentally, and ready for a slower, cozier life to settle into.

The hardest part was getting over the fact that she had other clients that she was helping and close with.  He met most of them in passing as they came in for appointments and he would disappear into the back rooms to let her work.  The jealousy of knowing that she was physically close with others like she’d been with him was hard to stomach, but his rational brain knew better than to fixate on the idea.  That was until she shut the door hard after a fairly new client he hadn’t met one day.  

Bucky opened the bedroom door and walked through the hallway to the main living room, finding Y/N hugging herself and leaning against the front door looking unhappy.  “Pumpkin?” he said, walking up to her.  “What’s wrong?”

Y/N shook her head and then rubbed her face harshly.  “I think I’m going to have to fire my newest client,” she said tiredly.

“Why?” Bucky asked, reaching up and grasping her hands.

Y/N looked up at him worriedly.  “Because he keeps pushing the contract boundaries.”

Bucky immediately became enraged.  He had to sign a contract when he first started working with her, and the rules and boundaries were extremely clear.  Y/N was a consummate professional, never pushing the boundaries beyond what was specifically listed within the contract.  She was friendly with her clients, as she had been with Bucky, but the second he had expressed feelings toward her she had ended their working relationship, she just so happened to reciprocate his feelings.  “Who is he?  What did he do?” he asked, trying to keep the anger and bitterness in his tone at bay.

Y/N sighed, and he could see she was upset but trying to keep her emotions under control.  “Helmut Zemo.  Retired Sokovian special ops.  He’s been very pushy about getting straight to the cuddling part, and just…” she swallowed harshly.  “He keeps giving me lingering touches on intimate parts of my body.”

Bucky inhaled deeply, his hands almost shaking as they held hers.  “Where?” he whispered, looking her over.

“My face,” she blinked rapidly to keep her oncoming tears back, her voice starting to wobble.  “My lower back, close to my butt.  And…” she paused, her lips trembling as she shut her eyes tight.  “He touched my breast.  He tried to play it off as an accident but…he squeezed it,” she released Bucky’s hands and hugged herself around her chest again.  

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his frown making his brow hurt from how tense he was.  He lifted his hands and cupped Y/N’s face, making her look at him.  Her tears started to fall and he quickly swept them away with his fingers.  “You’re going to call him,” he said, keeping his voice even and quiet, “and tell him that you’re voiding his contract for inappropriate behavior and touching.  If he decides to be an ass about it, I’ll take care of it.”

“Buck, you don’t have to–”

“Believe me, pumpkin,” he leaned down and kissed her nose.  “I’d love to.”

Y/N called the client a few minutes later, gripping Bucky’s hand tightly.  “Hey beautiful,” his voice rang out through the speakerphone.  

“You can’t call me that, Zemo,” she said simply.  “I’m just calling to inform you that our contract is officially void as of this moment, and I won’t be taking you as a client anymore.”

“Excuse me?” Zemo asked, his European accented voice angry.  

“Our sessions are canceled.  I will not be working with you,” Y/N said firmly.  

“And why may I ask?” Zemo sneered.

“For inappropriate behavior and touching,” she explained.  “Goodbye.”

“Y/N–” 

She hung up the phone and blocked his number, sighing heavily.  Bucky hugged her tightly.  “Good job, pumpkin.  I’m proud of you.  If he ever even looks your way again, you tell me and I’ll handle it.”

Y/N snorted.  “My big bad super soldier boyfriend is gonna come to the rescue?”

“Always,” Bucky said, kissing the top of her head.

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess @cjand10 @railmesebstan @danzer8705

[elegantauthor]

Saving Grace Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Aurora Stark

Summary: Bucky finds that Aurora has changed.

Warnings: mentions of grief, soft erotica

Series Masterlist

“I helped Zemo break out of prison.”

Aurora couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She hadn’t heard from Bucky in months, and this is what he’d called to tell her. She couldn’t help but question whether he truly needed her help, or if he felt guilty.

He paced the front porch, his heavy footfalls thumping against the wood. “Please say something.”

“He framed you, Bucky. He’s the reason I was forced to choose between you and my dad.”

Bucky sighed, flinching at her tone. He expected it, but it still grated on his already frazzled nerves. He knew it was stupid, but he didn’t have any other choice. They needed Zemo, if they were going to track down the creator of the new super-soldier serum.

“Aurora…”

“Don’t.” She held up her hands, sighing. “Just… don’t.”

Bucky staggered. She’d grown so much in five years. She was as beautiful as he remembered, and more elegant, despite living away from the city. There was something else, though. She was no longer the same meek young woman. She’d been tempered by loss and grief. She was probably more powerful, too.

When he knew her, she was just discovering her innate abilities. He wondered what she was capable of, now. And that’s why he needed her. As the half-mortal child of Aphrodite, she could read people unlike any other.

“I need you,” he stammered quietly. “You’re the only person I trust.”

Aurora’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected this level of honesty from him, and as their gazes met, she clearly saw the vulnerability in his blue orbs. She also noticed the dark circles and bags under his eyes. He was still having nightmares. “Bucky…” she said more softly.

“I understand that I’m asking you to go against your moral code. I haven’t forgotten what Zemo did.” He dared to venture a step closer, to close the distance between them, physically and emotionally. “I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings. That’s the last thing I’d ever do. Sam and I… we can’t complete the mission without him. But, I can’t do it without you.”

“You want me to come with you?” Emotion constricted her throat and pushed up tears behind her eyes. She glanced away, cursing herself for being so weak, until Bucky cupped her chin and gently coaxed her to look at him. He wore a glove to conceal his vibranium hand, the feel of leather and hard metal beneath it cool against her inflamed face.

“I want you to come with me,” he affirmed. “I want…” God, he wanted so badly for things to be like they were in Wakanda. He knew they never would be, but dammit if he wasn’t willing to try and make up for his absence.

“Where?” she asked.

“Berlin. From there, we’re flying to Madripoor in Zemo’s private jet.”

For a few painstaking moments, Aurora was silent. Bucky feared that spending time in such intimate proximity with Zemo was going to be the deal breaker. “I’ll do it… for you,” she murmured, finally.

The only thing she knew about Madripoor was its seedy and lawless reputation. She wasn’t thrilled by the idea; at the same time, there was definitely something lacking in her life. In her grieving, she’d lost part of herself and wanted her back.

Bucky exhaled a relieved sigh, thumb rubbing over the swell of her cheekbone. The corner of his mouth twitched into a half-smile. “Thank you,” he said in earnest. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

“When do we leave?”

“Soon. Uh, once you’ve packed.” He tripped slightly over his words, running a hand through his hair—his short hair. Aurora liked it… a lot.

“Okay.”

The smile that crept halfway across his face broadened. Aurora gestured with a tilt of her head, and Bucky followed her inside. He took in the familiar surroundings. She’d transformed the cabin into her own. Seeing photographs of her and Tony elicited a pang in his chest. Although they were together for two years, she had no proof of their relationship. Nothing of him to keep her going after the Snap, except memories.

~ * ~

Six years ago

Covered from the waist down with a soft, woolen blanket, Bucky positioned himself above her. He felt her arch off the ground, watching her lips part in a moan. Slicked with sweat from firelight and the tropical heat of Wakanda, their bodies moved in perfect rhythm.

“Bucky,” Aurora gasped, her fingertips pressing into his skin and sinew of muscle. His shoulders and back rippled under her touch, sending waves of pleasure throughout his body. He couldn’t recall ever feeling so good and told her as much.

“You feel so good, baby,” he muttered, “so damn good.”

As he pushed in deeper, gaining in speed and roughness, she moved her hands and curled them into the blanket upon which she lay. She tightened around him, and he chased her orgasm with a groan, before collapsing on top of her. His heart pounded in his chest, the feeling of being alive and with her more than he could fathom at times.

Bucky closed his eyes to the feel of her fingers threading through his hair. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, soldier.”

[atlasscrumpit]

Baron Zemo x reader

You sat in a bathtub with a large window overlooking New York City while you sighed and relaxed into the water.

You felt like you could fall asleep right there and then, but you didn't exactly want to drown. You heard the front door open and smiled a little, knowing it would be your husband.

"I'm in here, love!" You called out, it went silent until the door opened and you saw two men with guns pointed at you.

You looked at them and rolled your eyes.

You stood up in front of them, completely naked and dripping with water.

"Can I help you?" You asked as they awkwardly looked away.

They took of their masks and you smiled, realising who they were.

"Well, if it isn't the winter soldier and captain America. In the flesh. You know Baron actually gave me a pass to fuck you guys." You said as they continued to look away, making you laugh.

You stepped out of the bath and wrapped a towel around your body.

"I'm just kidding, Zemo would rather bomb the entire city then let anyone else have me." You continued as they lowered their weapons.

"So, Zemo is living in New York? Our Intel was right." Bucky said as you looked at him unamused.

"He's not exactly in hiding, he's paid for his crimes. So, mind telling me why you broke into our home?" You asked before you dropped the towel and grabbed your bathrobe and wrapped it around yourself.

"We got Intel that he was back in town and had something to do with a human trafficking case." Steve said as you rolled your eyes again.

"Come sit down and have coffee while we talk." You said walking out of the bathroom and letting them follow you.

They sat down at the dining table and you began preparing coffees.

"I can garentee the Intel you got is false. My husband isn't a monster that would trade human lives. Maybe he did terrible things in the past but we all have." You said bringing over two cups of coffee for the soldiers.

"How can you be sure?" Bucky asked as you sat down across from them.

"Because he helps take down human trafficking activity now. He wanted to make up for what he'd done so now he works with a group of other ex-criminals to take down things like human trafficking, drug trades and many others." You explained as they looked at you, not fully convinced.

"How do you know he's not lying? Do you ever see him do all of this?" Steve asked making you chuckle softly.

"We've been married for two years now and I met him four years ago. I was being trafficked, I was about to live a life of complete and utter hell and Baron saved me. He took down the men that had taken me and assaulted me, he let me kill some of them. After that he couldn't let me go and I didn't want him to. I know it's hard to believe when you saw him at his worst, but people can change." You replied as they looked at you, their eyes softening a little.

"I guess we jumped to conclusions." Bucky muttered before you heard the front door open.

You saw Zemo entering and his eyes landed on you then to the two super soldiers.

"What on earth?" He muttered as you stood up and kissed him on the cheek.

"It's okay, they aren't here to hurt us. They had Intel that you were apart of a criminal gang, but I explained everything too them." You explained as he looked down at you.

He reached up and held your face in his hand and kissed your softly before he looked down to notice you only had a bathrobe on.

"My love, please get changed I don't want these men seeing you naked." He whispered making you chuckle.

"Well, they barged in on me while I was in the bath tub so they've already seen everything." You replied as Baron's eyes widened.

He smiled and shook his head, laughing a little.

"You're truly not afraid of anything are you? But, please go get changed, my love otherwise I might have to take you on the counter right here right now." He whispered into your ear making you laughed softly.

You kissed his cheek again before running off to your room.

Zemo placed his bag down and looked at the two soldiers.

"You two sure are affectionate, huh?" Bucky muttered as Zemo sat down and looked at them.

"We aren't here to discuss my wife, we're here to discuss the fact that you barged into my home, saw my wife naked and accused me of crimes." Zemo growled as the two soldiers looked away with guilt.

"We weren't aware you had a wife, we heard you were in town and we had photos of you at the scene of many crimes." Steve explained making Zemo sigh.

"I was undercover, a lot of criminals know me and they don't know I've gone clean. So, I use that to take down as many gangs as I can." Zemo said as they both nodded.

You emerged in pjs and a robe over you before you came back and sat on Zemo's lap, kissing him softly.

He chuckled and kissed you back as the two soldiers stood up.

"Well, we should leave you both. And we're sorry again for barging in." Steve apologised as you smiled and looked at them.

"It was nice meeting you both." You said as they smiled in return.

"I guess we'll see you around and if you ever need backup don't hesitate to ask." Steve offered as Zemo nodded to them.

"Thank you, gentlemen." He replied before they both left.

You moved so you were straddling Zemo's legs and kissed him deeply.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, my love." He whispered, resting his hands on your hips.

"It's okay, they were actually really nice. I missed you." You whispered, kissing his lips again as he smiled.

"I missed you too, my love. How about I make it up to you?" He asked as you chuckled softly.

"I think that's an excellent idea, darling."

[endless-summer-soldier]

cruel to be kind - chapter one

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (90s college AU)

summary: it started with a dare. Bucky restlessly pursues Y/N, seeking just one date. as he chases her, he realizes she's different from she challenges him, so he starts to catch feelings. but it all falls apart when she learns about his initial motivations. based on 10 things I hate about you!

warnings: alcohol use, cursing

word count: 1.4k

series playlist

series masterlist

taglist: @sebsgirl71479 @ozwriterchick @notmeddy @drewsuncrustables @lokidokieokie @nats-whore @m4nulup1n @arcanebabe @tanyaspartak @jackiehollanderr @princezzjasmine @pono-pura-vida @mavrellover91 @helluvapimp @charmedbysarge @blackwood-bodecker-housewife (message me to be added)

There were three bangs that came from the other side of the wall and a voice yelled, “KEEP IT DOWN. SOME OF US HAVE STUDYING TO DO.” 

The small group of college boys playing Nintendo 64 groaned and turned the music down a few notches. This was a usual occurrence for a Thursday night.

“She is such a bitch!” Zemo said.

“Come on, cut her some slack,” Bucky said.

“Since when are you defending her?” Sam asked.

“I’m just saying, if you guys were my neighbors, I’d be annoyed too.”

“Alright then Barnes if you like her so much-”

“I don’t even know her,” Bucky interrupted.

“I’ve got a proposition for you,” Zemo continued.

“What’s that?”

“Take her on a date.”

“No chance,” Bucky scoffed.

“I dare you.”

“I’m not ten years old. Daring me to do something isn’t gonna work.”

“Oh I see,” Sam added, “You know she won’t say yes.”

“That’s not it-”

“I didn’t think you were afraid of a challenge,” Zemo added.

“I’m not-”

“Sounds like you’re making a lot of excuses,” Sam said.

Bucky clenched his jaw in frustration, “Fine, fine. I will take her out on a date if it’ll get you two to shut up.”

As the other two went back to playing video games, Bucky started wracking his brain on how he was going to pull this off. Y/N was Zemo and Sam’s next door neighbor and she had a bit of a bad reputation on campus. She was the star player on the field hockey team and the only thing more lethal than her stick handling was her sarcasm. She didn’t put up with any bullshit, and people found that to be intimidating. But Bucky wasn’t intimidated, he just had to think through his first move.

He sat on the bleachers watching as field hockey practice drew to a close. Once the final whistle sounded, he took a final puff of his cigarette, dropped it on the ground and crushed it under the heel of his leather boot. He sauntered over to the bench where Y/N was gulping down a cup of water.

“Hey there doll,” he said, capturing her attention, “How are you doing?”

She crushed the cup in her hand and said, “Sweating like a pig.” 

“Now there’s a way to get a guy’s attention,” he replied. She started packing up her things in a duffel bag.

“My mission in life. But I caught your attention, so you see it worked.”

She grabbed her things and started walking off the field as he followed. “Pick you up on Friday then?” he replied.

She rolled her eyes and said, “Oh right, Friday...uh-huh.”

“I'm serious," he added.

She stopped walking and turned toward him, “Do you even know my name?”

“I know a lot more than you think.”

“I highly doubt that,” she said, picking up her pace. He stood there watching her leave.

“Think about it!” he called.

She turned around just for a moment to flip him off with both hands and then continued off the field. He stood there shaking his head with a smile. He lit another cigarette and watched her leave, wondering what his next move would be.

Bucky stumbled across Y/N rather unexpectedly a few days later. He spotted her in the window of the record shop, browsing through albums, and decided to wait out front to say hi. She walked out of the store with a few vinyls and stopped in her tracks when she saw him. 

“Hi,” he said, with a smile.

“What, are you stalking me now?”

“I was in the laundromat and I saw you in the window and thought I’d say hi.”

“Hi,” she said, walking away from him.

“You’re not much of a talker are you?”

“Can’t say that I am.”

Bucky took a few quick steps so that he was ahead of her and then came to a stop, blocking her path.

“You’re not afraid of me are you?” he said.

“Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?”

“Most people are.”

“Okay well I’m not.”

“You may not be afraid of me, but I bet you’ve thought about me naked,” he said in his most sultry voice.

She stared at him for a moment, choosing her words very carefully. 

“Wow, am I that transparent?” she replied, sarcastically. With that she nudged him out of the way and continued on her path. She turned around and saw him standing there, watching her walk away. She stuck her tongue out at him and continued on her way. He lit a cigarette as he watched her trudge off in the opposite direction.

Bucky wasn’t giving up on her that easily. It wasn’t because he wanted to win the dare, now his interest was piqued. He could always rely on his good looks to charm women, but this girl was different. His normal moves weren’t even scratching the surface. He would have to get creative. He deduced from the run in at the record store that she liked music. As luck would have it, a local girl band was playing a set at one of the bars nearby and Bucky thought there was a good chance he might run into her there.

He walked into the bar and he immediately stuck out like a sore thumb. The place was filled with women and Bucky stood about a foot taller than everyone. He immediately made his way to the bar where he caught up with one of the bartenders he knew.

“What are you doing here man?” he asked Bucky.

Bucky downed a shot of Jameson and said, “I have no idea.” The bartender poured him another drink when Bucky saw Y/N dancing in the crowd. He almost didn’t recognize her with such a big smile on her face. She was usually scowling at him, but tonight she let her hair down and was laughing and dancing with her friends. He watched her for the next few songs when she suddenly started weaving through the crowd toward the bar. Bucky brought his attention back to the bar where he took a big swig of his drink and then gazed back up to watch the band. He saw Y/N approach the corner of the bar but he kept his attention focused on the band, waiting for her to approach him. She ordered a round of drinks and then she spotted him. 

She slid over toward him and said, “If you’re planning on asking me out, you might as well get it over with.”

“Do you mind?” he said, glancing at her briefly before looking back at the band, “I’m trying to listen.”

“You’re not even going to offer to buy me a drink?”

Bucky signaled to the bartender and ordered them two tequila shots and smiled at Y/N. The bartender placed the shots in front of them and Bucky took the salt shaker and sprinkled a pinch of salt on the back of her hand before doing the same to his own. He wedged the lime slice between his fingers and he held up the shot glass to her. She clinked his glass and they licked the salt, downed the shot, and then sucked on the limes. 

“So what are you doing here?” she finally asked him. 

“I come here a lot.”

“Not sure if you noticed, but you are one of the few guys in this bar right now.”

“Maybe this is where I come to pick up women.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

He shrugged, “I needed a change of scenery.”

“Ah, did you get hustled at your regular pool hall? Can’t show your face there anymore?”

“Something like that,” he smirked at her. 

“Well as much as I’d love to hear that story, I have people waiting on me,” she said, grabbing the round she ordered. She collected the glasses and turned, walking back towards the dancefloor. But Bucky wasn’t finished yet. He brought his drink and followed in her footsteps.

“Come to a party with me tomorrow,” he leaned over her shoulder and spoke in her ear. She turned to look at him, rolled her eyes, and shook her head in disbelief.

“Was that a yes?” he added.

“No.”

“Was it a no?”

“...No.”

“Great, I’ll see you at 10:30.” Before she could protest, he disappeared in the crowd.

“That smug son of a bitch,” she muttered to herself, returning to her friends.

[katatonicimpression]

🥃 please 👀

Sambucky Prompt Game

Thank you for the ask!

Captain America and the Winter Soldier walk into a bar. 

The bar is a front for an arms dealer. 

Some people got shot.

Once they’ve called in the cavalry (i.e. Sharon) and all the arrests have been made, it’s just Sam and Bucky, standing around in this dingy bar. Broken glass covered patches of the floor, chairs lay overturned and the pool table was splintered and torn, having been used as an impromptu shield. But hey, no one had died, and the decor wasn’t that bad.

Sam was sitting at the bar, facing the room and leaning back on his elbows.

“You ready to go?” He asked Bucky, when he emerged from the bathroom.

He shrugged.

“I don’t mind. You wanna stay for a drink?”

Sam wasn’t tired, and this stuff behind the bar was just sitting unused. It would probably end up “confiscated” by some cop eventually. Might as well take their cut.

“Yeah, sure.”

Bucky placed one hand on the bar and vaulted over it, and Sam turned to face him, and snorted a little at the display of effort.

“Hey,” Bucky flirted. “What’s a nice kid like you doing in a place like this?”

“You know I was just asking myself that?”

Bucky smirked, grabbing a cloth from behind the counter and tossing it over his shoulder. He leaned over the bar slightly.

“So, what will it be?”

“What’ve you got?”

“Urm…” Bucky dropped the suave act and looked behind him. “We got scotch and we got bourbon.”

Sam laughed. “Maybe I should have been the bartender. I make a mean manhattan.”

“Yeah, well the whiskey is the only thing here that I trust the look of.”

“Suit yourself.” Sam found himself smiling. “Bourbon then, on the rocks.”

“Coming right up.”

Sam watched Bucky rummage through the glasses before finding some that seemed decent, then look around for the ice. He stared at him absently, lost in the strangeness of the moment. Because when was the last time they’d had a moment like this? When was the last time they just did stuff?

“Cheers.”

Honestly? It tasted alright. Sam had definitely had worse. For his part, Bucky had downed his own glass of the stuff and was already pouring himself another. Sam wondered how much it would take to actually get the man drunk. He was about to ask if he’d ever tried but Bucky spoke first.

“We should go out for drinks.”

“Is that not what we’re doing?” Sam said.

“No, let me take you out.” Bucky placed one hand on the counter and leaned over. “Let me show you a good time, sweetheart.”

“It’s “sweetheart” now, is it?” Sam asked, smiling but deflecting, pretending this wasn’t doing a thing for him.

“It can be.”

Sam took another sip of his drink. 

“We’re a little past the first date stage, aren’t we?” He said, teasing, but it was true. They’d been practically living in each other’s pants since that whole business with Karli and Zemo. Sleeping in the same bed most nights. Doing things Sam would usually wait until at least a second date before. Well, maybe after the first if the guy was built like Bucky, who was he kidding.

“I may have gotten a little ahead of myself,” Bucky said, clearly thinking the same thing. “But look at you, can you blame me?”

Once again Sam pretended that this wasn’t charming.

“So, what do you say? A night on the town? You can dress up real pretty and I’ll show you off.”

“Do I get flowers?”

“If you want, Sweetheart.”

There it was again. Goddammit.

“Sure. Sure, let’s do it.”

[thatmexisaurusrex]

if we got a second season of tfatws what would you want to be in it 👀

Oh my gosh, such a good question to ask! 😆 A very hard one too Cassie, lemme think on this 🤔

Okay, a few things that would be a must would be:

A "Meanwhile, on the boat..." moment, or perhaps a montage of moments where things are happening throughout the MCU movies that happened post-TFATWS and Sam and Bucky are just 😂 on the boat, hearing about the events after the fact. I keep thinking about the scene in season 7 of Supernatural where they montage Dean commenting on what Castiel does with his new godlike powers while Dean fixes his car, but it doesn't have to be like that (3:16-3:46 here for reference lol).

Sam needs to save Bucky from falling. Sam had someone he couldn't save in the air. Bucky didn't have anyone to save him when he fell. Sam and Bucky both need that catharsis and it's wild that didn't happen in the first season.

Sam flying around as Bucky snipes at things 😂 Again - how did that not happen in the first season?

Sam and Bucky must either be already roommates or looking for an apartment which will be the place they will live in together.

Sarah, AJ, and Cass must be in it as well as other people we've seen like Carlos, Tommy, Isaiah, and Eli.

Another song by Curtis Harding must close the show's next sunset ending (it MUST be a good ending where they look into the sunset again, I'm sorry, I don't make the rules). Perhaps Can't Hide It by Curtis Harding?

Joaquín! There must be more Jay, I refuse to believe there wouldn't be so much more Jay in a season two.

FLASHBACKS. WHERE. WERE. THE. FLASHBACKS. Gimme Sam and Riley flashbacks, flashbacks of Sam with his family, gimme more info on Sam.

Can we???? Get more info on Sarah too???? Like was she married before??? Who are Cass and AJ's dad or dads??? How does she feel about Sam disappearing for a huge chunk of years??? I just want to know more about her.

And GIDEON. GIVE SAM HIS OLDER BROTHER.

Also, GIVE SAM BIRD TELEPATHY, YOU COWARDS, AS WELL AS A FALCON NAMED REDWING.

AYO AND ANEKA VISIT. THEY HAVE TO VISIT. LET AYO AND ANEKA BE BESTIES WITH SAM AND BUCKY.

Acknowledgment that Sam found Bucky in Europe but kept Bucky's secret and visited Bucky. Also that Sam visited Bucky during his time as a goatherder in Wakanda, possibly with a reference to the costco tub of lube 😂

MORE EPISODES. GIVE US MORE EPISODES. GIVE US TEN EPISODES AT LEAST, YOU COWARDS.

Things I can live without but I think would be a waste if they aren't in a hypothetical season two:

A huge and exciting action sequence during a New Orleans Mardi Gras Parade with Sam being the King of that parade.

There's a team of villainous jugglers in the Marvel comics called the Death-Throws. I really want them as secondary comedic villains who may or may not be kind of good people a la Jessie, James, and Meowth from Team Rocket in Pokemon movies. Just let Sam and Bucky have some comedy villains in the background doing their thing, Marvel.

Visiting Steve on the Moon. I just think Sam and Bucky deserve space shenanigans. I will also take a Facetime, if that's too out of budget, though.

Misty Knight cameo where Sam and Misty either imply or outright talk about being exes. Probably amicable, though, it would be funny if Sam's a bit awkward about it, but Misty's chill with him.

Karli resurrection. She deserved more of a redemption arc than Walker. Bring her back to life, Disney, I dare you.

Bucky and Falcon!Redwing don't get along. More because Bucky is jealous than anything else.

A VISIT TO WAKANDA! Do they go to Birnin Zana? Do they visit the town Bucky was living in as a goatherder? Do they go to Ayo and Aneka's home for dinner? Maybe they possibly only let Sam into the country while Ayo is like "I told you to lie low for a while, White Wolf" to Bucky 😂

Baron Zemo can have a cameo, if only because Anthony Mackie was bummed that Daniel Brühl isn't a part of Cap 4.

Wildest Options I Don't Think Would Happen But I Would Love:

SamBucky wedding. It all takes place the days leading up to their wedding. Or, if I'm being more realistic, a wedding. Like, if, say Sarah and Rhodey were getting married or Carol and Valkyrie or perhaps Ayo and Aneka.

SamBucky kiss? Though, again, highly doubt that and I'm really okay with SamBucky not being canon.

Fourth wall break where Feige himself walks into a room, sits down, and apologizes about how he treated Sam Wilson's character in the MCU and promises to do better. He pulls out an entire slide show and the episode is just him talking about how he will be integrating Sam more thoroughly into the MCU. I'm talking how specifically Sam will cameo, where he will cameo, pitches for other projects Sam will be heavily tied to, the works.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Mine Baby

Summary: Sitting at a bar one night, long after you'd abandoned your friends and even Bucky at the tower, you'd finally gained the courage to explain to him why you'd left months ago. The results weren't at all what you were expecting. Th reunion had all but been a terrible feat.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, swearing, slight drinking, vile insults, slight fat shaming, accusations of cheating

Word Count: 831

Staring at the man across the bar, you hardly notice the bartender refilling the water in your glass. “He’s a looker, innit he?” the woman whispers in your ear. 

“Certainly is,” you frown, finally taking your eyes away from the man seated in the corner of the bar. “What’s his story?” 

She clicked her tongue before grabbing a glass from underneath the bar and filling it with some drink. “Dunno much, all he seems to do is sit down at a bench and stare out the window. He’ll tip whoever serves him, but not much of a talker. Just sits there for hours on end most nights.”

“Yeah,” you hummed, “Doesn’t seem much of a talker to me, either.”

“Why not try getting his number?” She shrugged as you glared at her. “Doesn’t hurt to try, right?”

“I’m pregnant, you fool.” you reminded her, deliberately pointing at the glass of water in front of you. “Who’d want to try and shack up with a pregnant broad?”

“You’d be surprised at that fact, actually,” She nudged your arm but you hardly moved an inch. You knew all too well who that man sitting in the corner had been. After all, the growing belly you donned was proof that you knew the man. But the bartender didn’t need to know facts. You knew it was almost her job to get people drunk and hooked up. 

“Fine,” you grumbled, choking back the remainder of the water in your glass as though it would give you courage and luck. Quickly you strolled over to the booth before settling down in the seat opposite the man. Without much acknowledgement in your direction, he continued to glare out the window, a finger running circles around the brim of the glass in front of him.

“Hey,” you pouted, almost afraid at what his words would be as he finally turned his head to look at you, fierce brow pulled up with a scowl pulling at his mouth. “Long time no see.”

“You made sure of that, Y/N,” he scowled, turning his head to look at you with venom clouding his eyes. “Fucking leaving in the middle of the night with nothing but a text message on my phone in your absence as a farewell.”

“Buck, you can’t blame me,” you pouted, nearly shrinking into the seat, fear pooling into your chest. “I had my reasons.”

“I loved you,” he growled out, leaning over the table, his blue eyes glaring harshly in the dim lamp that hung above your table. “And what the fuck did that get me? A broken heart and an empty bed to sleep in; I should have listened to Zemo when he warned me that you weren’t all there in your fucking head. Fuck, you probably slept with all of them before you left.”

“Helmut has absolutely nothing to do with my decision to leave, Buck.Nobody had anything to do with my decision.”

“Then why the hell should I even talk to you?” he growled, leaning back in his seat with folded arms. “And since when the fuck have you called that man by his first- you know what? I don’t even wanna fucking know that answer. Go, Y/N. Leave me in-” he became silent as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, revealing the growing bump.

“You’ve gained weight,” he observed, “That is, I’m assuming?” 

Quickly covering yourself, you shook your head. “No, actually.”

“Why are you at a bar if your fucking pregnant?” he leaned over the table again. You could feel the anger in his eyes. Not daring to look away, you sighed. “Tell me.”

“I’ve been watching you over the last few weeks, Bucky.” you admitted, tapping your fingers along the tabletop. “I’ve been missing you.”

“Don’t make me look like a fool.” 

“Buck, the baby, it’s-” you couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Steve’s? Tony’s? Zemo’s, perhaps?”

You couldn’t help but to feel incredibly offended. “Yours, actually, you fuck.” You wanted to get up and walk away, never to see the man again after that assumption. Not believing that he would ever assume that of you, you covered yourself up with your jacket before scooting out of the booth. “I knew I shouldn’t have come here, it was certainly a damned mistake.”

“Indeed it was.” he growled. “DNA test when it’s born, or so help me.”

“Go fuck yourself, Barnes, you’ll be lucky if I ever allow you visitation after the shit you just said to me.”

“See you in court, darling.” He leaned back with a childish grin. Not wanting to cause a scene, you stormed out of the bar before getting in your car and pulling out your phone and erasing Bucky’s contact entirely. You’d be damned to hell if you ever allowed a man to treat you in such a way.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter One: Assembly Required

The Missing Title

Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

Summary: Enlisted to help a friend with a crisis you once specialized in, you find yourself in a foreign country getting ready for a mission in which the details you're unaware of. Reunited with a good friend, you follow his unhinged partner as you all prepare to stop more harm from being released onto the world.

Words: 5k

Warnings: Cursing, Illegal Activities, Terrorists, Politics, Bombs, Assassinations, Criminals, Secrets,

A/N: So I watched the series this summer, and while I hadn't anticipated to get hooked onto anything, a surprise appearance from Zemo had me falling in love with his character and now I'm writing this series and it'll just evolve forward into a story I've been daydreaming up these past few months. Also thank you to @imamotherfuckingstar-lord for hyping me up and encouraging me to step out of my comfort zone with the future topics of this story.

“Whatever, we just need to get inside,” Bucky dismisses Sam’s introduction to you. Truly, it’s a reintroduction, since you’d met him once or twice before, even if it was really only in passing.

From all the stories you’ve heard, you’re sure his attention was elsewhere, so you aren’t too dissuade by his stiff attitude. Sam offers you an annoyed glance in hopes that you, too, are either amused or off-put by the ex-assassin’s dour aura. With an alacrity you'd rarely seen in the past few years, his partner opens the auto shop's door and heads inside.

"What're you talking about, you wanna break Zemo outta jail?" Sam asks the man, clearly more perturbed by the incurring situation you'd stumbled into upon your good friend, Torres’, request. "Where the hell are we, Buck? Have you lost your mind?" Following both the men with the little light their flashlights emit, you listen, unsure what exactly the job Joaquin sent you to help out on entails.

"We have no leads, no moves, nothing-" Bucky answers, but Sam cuts him off.

"-Except the one I just called in, yeah. What we have is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars," Sam argues. Rounding the shelves of oil, dirtied gloves, tools, and mechanical parts, you try and watch your step. Albeit the darkness makes it harder than necessary to find your way without stumbling. Burner phone dug out of your pocket, you shine its faint light around your surroundings.

"And we also have eight super soldiers that are loose," Bucky reasons, his light casting downward as Sam shines it on him stepping over a rig. Despite not knowing James well, you know most people call him 'Bucky', and you know it's probably best not to interfere with the two men considering you're aware of Sam's indulgence when it comes to arguing. Hell, him and Joaquin could bicker for the rest of time. The thought elicits an amused eye roll on your behalf.

"Look, Zemo's gonna mess with our minds. Especially yours, no offense," Sam rebuttals, following suit as he steps over the rig. Suddenly his light is held still and there's a loud click before overhead lights come on all around you guys, lighting up what you can now see is a garage. Granted, the outside did have a sign indicating it was an auto-shop, you never know if it’s just a cover.

"Offense," Bucky comments, laying his flashlight aside on top one of the movable shelving carts. "Super soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy, but he still has a code." Lips parting in thought, you're about to speak up when Sam beats you to it.

"Yeah, and I've been on the wrong side of that code, Buck, and so have you. He blew up the UN, he killed King T'chaka and framed you for it. Did you forget that?" Eyeing his partner with a ludicrous look in his eyes, he quickly finishes his train of thought. "You think the Wakandans forgot about it? It's a rhetorical question- they didn't. I know why this matters to you, but come on, it's pushing you off the deep end."

Despite your abhorrence for bickering, there was admittedly not much you could contribute to the conversation. Though the name ‘Zemo’ sounds familiar, you can’t pinpoint its origin. Tucking your burner phone into your back pocket, you place your hands on your hips in waiting. A big breath puffs out your cheeks as you pray they come to some sort of conclusion sooner than later.

"Sam, we don't know how they're gettin' the serum. We don't even know how many of them there are. Look, let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?" Though the topic is concerning, Bucky’s phrasing and search of consent elicit an amused smile.

"What did you do?" Sam asks accusingly, like the man’s already committed some sort of crime.

"I didn't do anything. The weakest point in a system isn't the software, or the hardware, it's the meatware. The human element. Now, in this lockup, it's nine to one, prisoners to guards. And if two prisoners start fighting, then the protocol says four guards have to respond-“ Bucky starts to explain.

“-So why would two prisoners randomly start fighting at that moment?" Sam questions.

"-Who knows? There could be many reasons. But the point is, these things escalate. Lockdown procedures would have to be initiated with all those bodies flying around left and right, it wouldn't be hard to slip down a hallway or two. And if the fire alarm got tripped while the prisoners were being separated, someone could use the chaos to their advantage." With his thorough knowledge of the protocols, it’s clear Bucky has a plan.

"I don't like how casual you're bein' about this. This is unnatural. Are you... and- where are we, man?!" Sam comes back to reality, demanding an answer as hypotheticals really won’t do much for whatever super soldier problem is going on. In the distance the metallic sound of a hinge squeaking and a click of a lock signals a door’s been opened.

Eyes flitting to its source, the three of you watch in anticipation as a blurry figure approaches, its shadow cast upon the hanging plastic curtains of the auto shop. Lifting a section of said curtain, a police officer or guard of some sort enters. Considering the lack of people around, you assume he’s here to arrest you all for trespassing. Vision shifting to the men in hopes they have a better plan than you, the two of them surprisingly don’t move.

“WHOA, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa- what’re you doin’ here?!” Sam yells, clearly upset by the man’s presence.

“No, listen. Look, I didn't wanna tell you cause I knew you wouldn't let this happen. Okay?" Bucky says calmly, a confusing juxtaposition for you, to say the least.

"What did you do?!" Sam turns his attention to Bucky.

“Nothing, according to him,” you quip. Gears turning within your mind, you’re starting to wonder if this is that ‘Zemo’ character they were just talking about. The former Winter Soldier aims a glare at you momentarily before refocusing on Sam.

“We need him,” Bucky asserts.

"You're going back to prison!" Sam declares, focus and pointer finger now targeting the dressed up guard.

"If I may,” the man speaks, lifting a finger to weigh in the conversation.

"No!" Both Sam and Bucky simultaneously yell, their similarity amusing if it weren’t a serious situation. If this is that ‘Zemo’ guy they were talking about who’s in prison… then clearly they’re in trouble.

"Apologies,” the mystery man’s accented voice elicits your attention which shifts over to him. Eyeing him up and down, you feel like he looks familiar in a strange way, but your memory is failing you in this moment. As his eyes turn in your direction, yours dart back to the two men closest to you.

"When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you backed him. You broke the law, and you stuck your neck out for me. I'm asking you to do it again,” Bucky’s words elicit slight paranoia and anger within you. Torres didn’t mention the help you’d be giving was illegal. While you’d technically broken the law before, it’s not something you were ever hoping to do again. If something goes wrong… you aren’t sure if you’ll be able to get out of this, and going to jail is not an option. Hopefully Torres could work something out if worse comes to worst.

"I really think I'm invaluable,” mystery man speaks up again. While you’re distracted by the notion of mentally planning next steps, the comment elicits a mildly amused smirk from you.

"Shut up,” Sam commands the guard-dressed man. He spares a glance in your direction, tacitly seeking affirmation, which he’s granted. “Okay. If we do this, you don't make a move without our permission.” Sam directs the latter of his sentence toward the accented man, to which he subtly shrugs.

"Fair,” he comments, holding the black cap between his hands in front of him. It reads ‘JUSTIZ’ in white big bold capital letters across the front.

"Okay, Zemo. Where do we start?" Sam inquires, handing the reins--temporarily, knowing Sam--over to the man in uniform.

“Woah, woah! He’s the guy? The one you were talking about- the UN Bomber?!” You exclaim, hands thrown out in front of you as you gauge the two familiar men.

Sam sighs, running a hand over his face. “Why do you think we made such a big deal out of it?”

“The one and only,” Zemo—as you now know—responds all too calmly for your preference. Though what were you expecting, really? The man who supposedly (if you remember correctly) broke up the Avengers, according to the news.

“Correction: you made a big deal,” Bucky retorts, a disgruntled look sent in Sam’s direction.

“Nevertheless, first I need to grab a few items,” Zemo states, turning and walking back behind the plastic curtain in the direction he’d come from. Though the two man-children behind you begin to bicker again, you follow the criminal behind the curtain. This attracts their attention as they follow, intent on watching Zemo and making sure he doesn’t escape.

Opposite where he’d come in there’s another door. Pushing it open, you walk through; a few feet ahead Zemo confidently walks toward a black sedan-style car that looks like something out of an old Hollywood movie. “Woah,” you whisper, taking in all the little details of what’s clearly more a showroom than a garage.

“So our first move is grand theft auto?" Sam asks sarcastically, you assume based off his tone. Approaching a yellow-colored convertible car of the same antique classiness you slowly reach out and run your hand along the smooth metal, taking in the intricate detaling.

"These are mine. Collected by family over the generations,” Zemo informs, opening the trunk of the black car nearest the door you all had entered through. Though you can see him stashing equipment into a duffel bag in your peripheral vision, you follow Bucky and Sam suit as you marvel over the opulent vintage automobiles.

"I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum-" Zemo explains. Information cataloging in your mind, your heartrate accelerates slightly as your vision shifts between the men in hopes of gauging their mentality. As the known terrorist approaches the vehicle you'd just been examining, you feel yourself stiffen slightly. Surely if he'd wanted me dead he'd have killed me already, right? As he opens the right-side back door and rummages inside, it seems as though everyone's attention has returned to the one speaking. "-Because once it's out there, someone can create an army of people like the Avengers." Slow and deliberate with his word choice, you can tell that there may not be any secrets left unsaid. As the man's intense brown eyes shift over toward you, and then Bucky, your jaw clenches, and you swallow.

Uprighting himself, he continues. "I ended the Winter soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished." With this revelation, relief washes over you and your tension ebbs again. At least it seems, for now, that you're not on his list. Crossing your arms over your chest, you refocus on the information Zemo's relaying. "To do this we'll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes." While the terrorist walks off toward the other side of the garage, you turn and follow his figure.

"Join the party, we've already started," Sam comments, seemingly trying to piece together whatever plan Zemo is forming. Walking after him, you try to keep up considering the man seems to be taking lead.

"First stop is a woman named Selby--mid-level fence I still have a line on--from there, we climb," Zemo explains. While an eyebrow quirks in confusion at the term 'fence' you don't verbally question it. It's obvious whoever he's talking about is some kind of 'in' and while Joaquin hadn't taught you everything he knows, you can still follow along with enough context to understand what they're talking about.

--------

It'd been easy enough to get to the airport as it wasn't far, only about a twenty-minute ride in a taxi. While the men attempted to ascertain a location from Zemo, the criminal had been reluctant to indulge them, simply profiting a 'you'll know soon enough.' to keep them satisfied.

"So how was the flight here?" Sam inquires, finally turning his attention to you as the past half hour has been hectic. Sitting between Sam and Zemo, you try not to let the awkwardness of the whole situation get to you. Up front, an old man drives the taxi while Bucky had insisted on the passenger's seat. The ex-Winter Soldier stares out the windshield, yet something tells you he's eavesdropping, which you wouldn't put past anyone in this vehicle, honestly.

"It was fine. Short enough, though the constant 'we're here, now we're here, no, we're here- was somewhat annoying. Like, I just kept having to reroute and figure out how the hell I was gonna get to you when you guys couldn't keep still for even a second!" This elicits a laugh from your friend on the left, and you can't help but smile for the first time since you'd arrived.

"Kind of hard to do when you've got an agent on your ass," Sam comments, an amused smile on his lips as he leaves room for you to continue.

"Oh God, who is it this time?" Palming your face, you know that this mission is dangerous, yet you haven't been involved in this world for a while, and considering the subject matter, it's rather crucial you help them out.

"The new shield," Sam explains. He gives you a tight-lipped disapproving smile, nodding in understandance of your reaction. Eyebrows raised and lips parting in shock, you shouldn't be surprised, yet you are.

"That's why Joaquin warned me," a hum escapes your lips, "makes sense. Can't say I'm a fan, granted I don't know him."

"You don't need to know him to know he's doing something despicable," Bucky comments from the front, not bothering to even spare a glance in anyone's direction.

"Hey now-" Sam goes to start something, yet you interrupt him with a dissatisfied noise.

"So we know that whoever their supplier is, they've gotta have a lab. A professional one, one big enough to be producing the-" you glance at the driver in the rearview mirror, "stuff, and once we know where we're going I can start looking into a lead. Sound good?"

The distraction seemed to work for now as both your acquaintances respond in some form. Bucky nods up front, the two of you momentarily making eye contact in the side mirror.

"Yeah," Sam answers, arms crossing over his chest as he sits back in the seat. Luckily, the airport is already approaching in the distance.

Upon arrival all the doors are thrown open and the men evacuate the vehicle. Zemo lingers at the door as he holds it open. Unaware of the implication, you instinctively slide out on your left, following your old friend, Sam. "How much do we owe him?" You ask. As Bucky begins speaking with the driver and Sam dismisses you with a wave of his hand, you follow Zemo as he walks toward the airport's runway.

The infamous 'Avengers' follow you two suit, the both of them adorned with sunglasses, even if it's not the brightest out today. Readjusting your duffel bag on your shoulder, you aren't entirely sure what Zemo's plan is here.

"So all this time you've been rich?" Sam asks incredulously, and it's then that you realize the private jet the group of you are approaching is for you. Steps falling behind, your lips part in shock and surprise. Bucky notices your change in pace and offers a look back in your direction, a quirked brow. Small legs quickening their pace once again to catch up to the tall men, you contain your awe.

"I'm a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country," Zemo answers. Another revelation, another piece of information you hadn't known and hadn't anticipated. While the man may be an international terrorist and criminal, you hadn't paid the case too much attention as it was going on considering you were going through your own set of problems within your work field during that time.

"A Baron?" You echo Zemo's answer as you outwardly process this information. Though you're by no means stupid, the title is something you're not the most familiar with.

"Yes, the thirteenth, to be exact," Zemo responds, offering a look back in your direction before returning his attention to the man awaiting your group at the steps of the private jet. The puzzle only grows as Zemo greets the older gentleman in a language you don't understand. With extended arms, the well-dressed gentleman takes the Baron into his arms. Kisses placed on either cheek, you find the custom familiar. Smiles on both the men's faces, you feel taken aback. Mind reeling, you only find your curiosity toward this criminal growing. "Please," Zemo encourages you all to follow him up the steps.

Sam mumbles something to the older gentleman, and Bucky doesn't acknowledge him as he gestures with his hand for you to go up first. The older gentleman begins to take your bag off your shoulder, but your hand is quick to find its way atop his. "It's okay, I've got it. Thank you."

"Are you sure, Miss?" The elderly man asks in English. With a nod, he releases the strap of your bag and offers a polite smile. Following Sam up the steps, the other two men follow suit.

With help from the taller men to stuff your bag in one of the compartments toward the back of the jet, you find the only open seat is the one across from Zemo. It shouldn't be a surprise, despite Sam and Bucky's marriage-like bickering relationship, they're friends, teammates, and are more fond of one another than you'd guess they are of Zemo.

Before you know it, the jet is taking off and you're in the air for the second time today. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced," the Baron extends a hand in your direction, eyes roaming your face as you do the same, taking one another in.

With a quick look toward Sam, you're sure the worry in your eyes shows. Just as the Baron is about to sit back and retract his hand, you envelop his hand with your own, much smaller one. A firm shake between you two, you aren't sure what Zemo will make of your past, but surely he'll find out at some point.

"It's fine," Sam says your name, catching your attention. Even if the reassurance is small, you trust him.

With a divulgence of your full name, you offer Zemo a polite smile. "I take it you and Sam are friends? Former partners, I assume?" he questions, his head tilting slightly as he gauges both your, and Sam's reaction. The latter coughs, suddenly turning his attention out the window. You take that as your cue to answer.

"We've worked together once or twice, but... really yes, we're more friends than anything. One of his coworkers and friends is like a brother to me."

"Apologies if that's a little warm, the fridge is out-" the elderly man from earlier hands Zemo a glass of champagne, "-but I will see if there is some good food in the galley," he informs the Baron. From his attire, you've realized in the short time between boarding and taking off that the man is Zemo's butler.

Accepting the flute, the Baron responds in a language that sounds akin to Russian, you'd guess. The butler laughs, "Oh, it's good to have you back, Sir." Although you're not sure why, a small smile graces your features as you watch the butler turn to leave, though he suddenly turns back. "Can I get you anything, Miss?"

With a look between the butler and Zemo, who simply repeats his earlier indulgence of 'please', you shake your head, only to furrow your brows, rethinking. "Actually, water maybe, if you can, please?"

"Of course, Miss." The butler offers a polite smile and nod before turning to retreat into the galley toward the front.

"A friend of yours?" You question, turning back to face Zemo. Swallowing the sip of champagne he'd taken, he nods.

"Something like that," he responds with a look you can only attribute to playfulness in his eyes. "Can I ask how you've wound up on this exploit alongside us?"

Eyes shifting toward the windows beside your seats, you feel your heart beating a little faster under his gaze Zemo stares intently at you. Unwavering attention, he simply sips his drink as he waits for an answer.

"I, um... used to work for the CIA in their R and D department," you admit, swallowing the thick feeling in your throat as you contemplate explaining the whole truth.

"Which is how you met Torres," Sam comments with a smile, swiveling in his chair as he engages in the conversation.

"Yeah," you respond, meeting Sam's gaze. "though none of us knew what they were doing at first, we were just hired as scientists to test and develop certain biological elements. Our friend--" you turn your attention back to Zemo, hoping to clarify, "--Joaquin, the one who's like a brother to me, he wasn't a scientist, but we came into contact a few times and considering we grew up together we ended up in similar fields: the government."

"And how you met Sam," Zemo assumes, to an exactly correct truth.

"Yes, eventually."

"So you worked in Eugenics?" Zemo dares to ask, blatantly. Though you hadn't been expecting the boldness, you aren't surprised by the question. It was reasonable.

"In some ways... yes, though we thought at the time we were only doing it for the benefit of the people's health. Eradicating diseases, testing possible solutions and seeing how they affected the gene code," you explain. "Things... changed, toward the end, toward the snap..." trailing off, it's clear to everyone that there's a story there.

Not interested in divulging your secrets and past traumas, you don't indulge the following silence. While Sam may know a few select details of what occurred in the R and D department, he doesn't know the whole truth of what happened to your unit. Only what their cover-up was.

"You don't know what it's like to be locked in a cell," Zemo comments, his thoughts obviously having drifted from the conversation. "Oh, that's right- you do." Turning his attention to Sam, he offers him a grimace along with false cheers, sipping his warm champagne.

"Why don't you tell us about where we're going?" Sam pressures, swiftly changing topics as he doesn't wish to go down memory lane, and certainly doesn't want to entertain anymore thought of your previous life, nor the onslaught of questions, ethics, and morals he knows Zemo would cave to if he had you alone.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes with a wave of his hand before flipping another page in the small book he'd produced from his jacket a few moments ago. "I was just fascinated by this," the Baron comments. Eyeing the front of the book, you don't speak German, however, you can recognize it. 'Das Offene Nein In Der Liebe' reads the title, though you don't recognize any words besides 'nein', meaning 'no', and 'der' which you're pretty sure means 'the'. Curious as to why Zemo is suddenly avoiding Sam's questioning under the guise of reading, your eyebrows furrow.

"I don't know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?" Zemo asks. In a sudden movement that makes you yelp and jump, Bucky has his gloved hand wrapped around Zemo's throat. Wide-eyed, you stare in shock and fear as you aren't sure what to do.

"If you touch that again, I'll kill you," the ex-Winter Soldier whispers, eyes filled with anger as he threatens the Baron. The thief quickly nods and Bucky retracts his hand, sitting back in his seat. Letting a big breath slowly filter through your lips, you try not to let the situation unsettle you. After all, from the fleeting moments you've been acquainted, Bucky's always been a wild card.

"I'm sorry," Zemo apologizes again, to your surprise. While you don't know either of the two men well, you hadn't heard them to be quite as... dramatic, as they've been the last hour. Still gathering yourself, you try not to meet anyone's gaze as your eyes travel to the flute Zemo still somehow holds in his grip. "I understand that list of names. People you've wronged as the Winter Soldier."

Your association with the man brought up, you let your gaze flit over to him, Bucky's face somewhat stoic on the outside, yet the faint view of his eyes from your position lets you see that Zemo's not wrong.

"Don't push it," the man warns, and you can't help but offer Bucky a sympathetic smile. While you don't know too much of his story or personal life, you've heard about how he's been through more than anyone could ever imagine.

"I've seen that book-" Sam speaks up, and you have no doubt he's trying to lessen the tension between the four of you. "It was Steve's when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man- he wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What'd you think?" Sam asks, turning the conversation into something more causerie.

"I like Fortie's music, so..." Bucky responds, finally shifting his attention back to Sam as opposed to staring out the window like he'd been doing for most of the conversation since take off.

"You didn't like it?" Sam asks, obviously offended in some way. Clearly his taste seems to differ from Bucky. Steve, though, was a different man. You hadn't known him personally, though you've heard all the stories everyone did growing up and during the time he was alive.

"Fortie's music is great, so- can't say I blame you," you agree, taking Bucky's side. Is it really taking sides if you're just stating your opinion, though? Sam clearly seems to think contrarily as he gives you a glare before turning his pressuring and quizzical look on Bucky.

"I liked it," Bucky states.

"It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive," Zemo pipes up, gesticulating with his hands to emphasize, "it captures the African-American experience." While you're personally not familiar with whatever movie, song, book, or album they're talking about, you can't help but find yourself biting back a smile. Sam's concerned look only adds to your amusement as he shifts his attention back and forth between the two men.

"He's outta line, but he's right. It's great! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye," Sam argues, finally turning an eye on you in question, "right?"

"I like Marvin Gaye," Bucky agrees.

"I... can't say I know Marvin Gaye," you admit embarassedly as your eyes turn toward your lap for a moment.

"Steve adored Marvin Gaye. Wait- what do you mean you don't know Marvin Gaye?! Everybody knows Marvin Gaye!" Sam argues, starting to go off about how Joaquin had to have shown you and how he'll correct that, that is, until Zemo speaks up again.

"You must've really looked up to Steve. But I realized something when I met him--"

"You met him?" The words leave your mouth before you cringe, palm coming up to your face as you remember. You hadn't been involved, but you'd seen the news. You knew what happened with Zemo. "Sorry! Sorry, I-" No one addresses your misstep, as you're sure they all know, or suspect, that it wasn't really your personal business anyways, even if the entire world knew what happened to some degree or another.

"The danger with people like him--America's super soldiers--is that we put them on pedestals," Zemo continues, reciting his line of thought on the subject as he ignores what you'd said, thankfully, and blows right past it.

"Watch your step, Zemo," Sam warns, obviously defensive over one of his closest friends.

"They become symbols, icons... and then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die, movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right?" Dark eyes turning on Bucky, Zemo clearly is bringing up what happened, what? Almost... nine, ten years ago? Silently counting on your fingers in your seat, you conclude: nine years. It's been nine years since Ultron rose and attempted to overthrow the world. Nines years since the Battle of Sokovia happened. Yes, it's all coming back now.

Zemo. Baron Zemo, royalty of Sokovia, right? There'd been something in the papers, something about how his family had tragically died and that was the reason he blew up the United Nations headquarters. That's what he's talking about. Tuning back in to the conversation, you follow his line of thought.

"As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?" Zemo shakes his head, and you can't help but do the same. "That is why we're going to Madripoor."

"What's up with Madripoor? You guys talk about it like it's Skull Island," Sam interjects, Zemo must have said something about it when you were zoned out.

"It's an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary in the 1800s," Bucky explains.

"It's kept its lawless ways, but we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves." The Baron turns his attention on Bucky, "James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone..." with no outward reaction, he turns to you and then Sam. "You two will have a part to play as well."

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

[midethefangirl]

it’s been long since I made a pro Tony Stark post but seeing someone try to blame the events of Civil War going south on him had me heated. look, I will admit that some of Tony’s actions in the movie where not okay at all like wanting to kill Bucky for killing his mother while under HYDRA’s influence but maybe Steve stans and a lot of pro team cap folks should realize that Steve’s actions also played a huge role in the movie as well.

for one, maybe Steve should have realized that 119 countries banding together to make a document, you feel is threatening your rights, is a serious matter. 119 countries is almost two-thirds of the countries in the UN and the world, if a great part of the world thinks you are doing more harm than good, maybe as a superhero, you should try to reason with them.

two, Steve chose to do nothing when he thought his rights were threatened by the accords. I do think there were some human rights violations in the accords that should not have been avoided, however, Steve chose to do nothing. anyone who has done a bit of activism know how ineffective that strategy is.

three, Steve’s actions were proving to the UN even more reasons why they felt the accords were necessary. interfering with law enforcement when they were out for Bucky who was potentially dangerous was a bad idea. sure, Bucky was his best friend and I don’t blame Steve for wanting to save him. however, let us remember that Bucky had killed people while he was the Winter Soldier and the Romanian government didn’t have the perspective we have and they had every reason to see him as a huge threat.

four, infantilizing Wanda by calling her a kid because Tony decided to put her on house arrest. and yes, I agree that Tony not telling Wanda was a very bad idea but let us not forget that the Avengers were still under public scrutiny after a disaster of a mission in Lagos and the accords. Wanda could have been attacked by outsiders who could have gone the Zemo route because a family member was in Lagos and that would have caused her to try to defend herself which could get twisted by the media and turn more of the public against her and the avengers as a whole. mind you, the Avengers were facing enough mistrust from the public.

also, Steve, calling a huge comfortable compound with a swimming pool an internment is a bit tonedeaf to those whose ancestors have been to actual interments. as someone who had an Asian American on his team, I’d expect he know better.

five, accords or not, maybe the Russian government has the right to know about a man controlling dangerously brainwashed men within their country. sure, it latter turned out to be a false alarm but considering the fact that this was a security threat which many countries would take seriously, Steve for some reason never considered the fact that the Russian government should be alerted to something like that. if this didn’t scream arrogance, I don’t know what else did.

six, resisting arrest and trashing public property while on international borders in the bid of resisting arrest would piss off the very people who are already pissed at you and your American passport would not bail you out of that one. even international passports come with a warning about their holders committing a crime in other countries. the fact that Steve acknowledged that his team could get arrested for that made it even worse.

this one is actually addressed to the whole of team cap, not just Steve, but seven, you cannot commit a crime on international soil with full knowledge that it is a crime and then blame somebody else for why you ended up in jail. sure, the rift and Thaddeus Ross are sketchy in nature but Scott and Clint blaming Tony for why they ended up there was funny to me because they made the informed decision to commit a crime.

eight, which is a major part being that it was the climax of Civil War, hmmm, maybe keeping the secret of the death of the parents of your rich teammate whose money was funding the search of their killer from him is a very bad idea. idk, man, I would be angry too if it were me. sure, wanting to kill Bucky was wrong but if we didn’t fault the Mayonnaise twins, T’Challa, Peter Parker and later Shuri for going after their parents’ (perceived, in T’Challa’s case) killers, maybe we could give Tony too some grace because brainwashed or not, I would have gone after Bucky too.

nine, the apology letter was the shittiest letter ever and I don’t blame Tony for not wanting to speak to Steve during the events of Infinity War. like how can you even write that type of letter to someone you offended and expect the relationship to still be intact?

there was one part I almost forgot but that quote that emboldened Steve is also dumb the more I look at it. oh yeah, plant yourself in front of the 119 countries you didn’t even bother to address at all and tell them “no, you move” is the ultimate height of hubris. when you are already on thin ice with the public? and Steve thought this was a good idea? yikes 😬