#falcone writes

[runawrites-blog]

Trust (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: You notice it during a quiet evening spent with Bucky and then it won't leave your head again. Bucky is afraid of touching you with his vibranium arm, going out of his way to avoid doing so. You take it upon yourself to try and show him that he doesn't have to worry that you're not afraid, and that you trust him completely. (Gender Neutral Reader)Word Count: 6,092 Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Mild Discussions of Past Traumatic Events, Mild Violence and Mentions of Fighting, No Y/N, Petnames (Doll, Love), Non-Graphic Smut Scene (To avoid it skip from "It was three days later" and continue at "You moved your hands", so skip the first paragraph there. Please do not read it and instead skip it if you are not 18+/ Skip it if you are a Minor) Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51380476

---

The first time you noticed it, was during a stormy night which you had spent curled up in your bed with Bucky, reading a book while he was lying by your side, his head on your chest and his right arm looped around your waist. Eventually, you decided to turn down for the night, and seeing as Bucky had not moved for the past hour or so, you were careful as you put your book down and turned off the light, assuming that he had fallen asleep. But as you gingerly shimmied down on the bed he looked up at you and you gave him an apologetic look, thinking you’d woken him up.

“Sorry, Bucky, I just wanted to lie down so we can turn in for the night.” You whispered, pressing a kiss to his head as you settled on your pillow. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“You didn’t, Sweetheart. I was about to drift off.”

“You could have if you were tired, Love. I wouldn’t have minded.” You soothed, lips moving down to his cheek. “Why didn’t you?”

“Better safe than sorry.” He sat up and you watched as he reached up to detach his vibranium arm before putting it down close to the bed and lying back down next to you. “Now we can finally settle down.”

His words made you still in your movements, a terrible suspicion dawning on you that painted a lot of his previous actions in a completely different light. Bucky usually preferred to hold your hand with his right one and always had you sit by that side. During intimate moments he never touched you with his left hand and solely used it for keeping his balance. Every time you shared a bed he detached his arm before settling down. You had always assumed that it was simply more comfortable to sleep without the metal arm weighing him down and had it not been for his words you would have continued to think so but now you knew that this was not the only reason.

Bucky was afraid of hurting you with his vibranium arm.

For a few seconds, you mulled over that suspicion, thinking about how to breech the subject, how to assure him that you trusted him not to hurt you, to talk about his fears. But you were at a loss and when Bucky turned halfway back onto his stomach, head settling on your shoulder and face buried at your neck as his right arm looped around your waist you decided to not speak up about it for now. Bucky was exhausted from a long day and you wanted to offer him the comfort and safety he needed. So you just wrapped your arms around him and buried your nose in his hair.

“Sleep well.” You whispered, pressing a kiss to his head. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Bucky mumbled back, voice soft as he held onto you tightly. “Sleep well, Sweetheart.”

“With you by my side, I always do.”

Against your skin, you could feel his mouth turn into a smile and despite your worries, you felt grateful that he was at the very least smiling and that he seemed comfortable. But his words still circled your head. Bucky was afraid of hurting you with his metal arm and he was actively going out of his way to keep it away from you. You wanted nothing more than to prove to him that his worries were unfounded but you didn’t know how to go about it -- and even if you did, you knew he wouldn’t believe you.

When the next morning rolled around, waking you with the rays of sun that gently fell in through the curtains and had long since chased the rain away, it only took your thoughts a few seconds to circle back to the previous night. A frown overtook your features as you once more thought about what to do but before you could come up with an idea a hand reached up to gently carass your cheek.

“What’s got you frowning first thing in the morning, Doll?”

You looked down at Bucky and gave him a soft smile. “Nothing important, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t too heavy, was I? I keep telling you that if me sleeping halfway on top of you is too heavy you have to tell me so I can move.”

“No, that’s really not it, I swear.” You said, chuckling softly as you shook your head. “If anything I like having your weight on me. You’re like my personal weighted blanket.”

Bucky leaned up to kiss your cheek before he slowly sat up and you admired how his body stretched in the warm sunlight, outlining his features. For a moment you allowed yourself to smile at his domestic moment with your partner. But when he reached for his arm to reattach it to where it hooked into his shoulder all the concern from the previous night came back and once more you thought about what to do to ease his worries. You still knew that he would not believe you if you simply told him these things but perhaps it was worth a try to show him that you did not share his worries even in the slightest. So, you decided to make it your mission to prove this to Bucky.

---

You tried to show him that you were not scared of his arm just about half an hour later after you had gotten out of the shower and found him making breakfast in the kitchen. Since the two of you had a date at a current exhibition at the local museum planned for the day Bucky was preparing a quick breakfast, cutting some fruit up, and setting the table with all the things he knew you liked. He was currently cutting up an apple into slices when you entered, his back turned to the door, and you quietly made your way toward him before draping yourself across his back though you still made sure to make enough noise so that he would hear you approach and wouldn’t be startled.

“Thank you for preparing something to eat.” You whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek before you moved around and embraced his left arm, leaning your head against the metallic shoulder of it. “What do you say? Should we bring lunch with us or should we try to find a place to eat while we’re out?”

Bucky froze a little as you leaned into his vibranium arm and quickly turned around, leaning against the counter, subtly but effectively turning the arm away from you with his right side now facing you. “I say we go find something while we’re out.”

“Are you looking forward to the exhibition?” You asked with a smile, trying to ignore his actions so as to not make him uncomfortable. “I know you’ve been very interested in space travel lately.”

“Can you blame me?” Bucky joked, returning your smile. “I recently learned about how much further we have come in terms of space travel in the last decades. It’s really amazing, I have to say.”

“I’m not blaming you at all. I’m really interested in it, too, and I think your interest in science is really charming.” With another small kiss on his cheek, you moved away to sit down at the table. “Your excitement about it is quite frankly adorable.”

“Adorable?” Bucky chuckled as he sat down opposite you. “I am far from adorable.”

“I’d beg to differ. When you smile in amazement at a piece in the museum or your eyes light up when you get to listen to someone’s stories of space travel you’re so sweet that I can barely handle it.”

“What can I say? I’ve always been interested in science, even back in the fourties.” Bucky smiled softly as he began to eat. “Steve and I would go to science fairs, exhibitions, and museums all the time.”

“Tell me more about that, please.”

---

You hoped the museum would give you more opportunities to show Bucky that you were not afraid of his vibranium arm, planning on trying to hold his left hand or onto his arm. Unfortunately, you found that you never got the right opportunity to hold onto his arm because you never stood in one spot long enough to cuddle up to him and you never had the chance to hold his left hand because he kept the guide to the exhibition clutched in that one. You resigned to try again later and simply enjoyed your date with your boyfriend, smiling at his excitement and interest, reading all the informational signs, and looking out for the things you had encountered on the few space missions you had been on.

“Can you believe we’ve been in one of these before in actual space?” Bucky asked as you made your way through the recreated interior of a space ship and you knew that he was referring to your latest mission where the two of you had set out on a spaceship to an old abandoned space station where you had been getting important documents from. “It’s amazing when you think of it.”

“What a coincidence. I had the exact same thought just a few seconds ago.” You grinned as you turned to him. “It always seems unbelievable to me.”

“I honestly find it hard to believe, too, but I have encountered many unbelievable things in the past few years.” Bucky mused with a small smile, looking back at you. “Want to continue on? The next room is a display of our galaxy.”

“Let’s go.”

The two of you entered the next room, a big hall that had holograms of all the planets in the known galaxy projected above the visitors who were able to circle the model of the sun placed in the middle of the exhibit on a metal walkway. You and Bucky walked on the metal walkway, looking at the display, stopping next to the hologram of Earth and looking up as the voiceover talked about the newly discovered planets in the galaxy. Gingerly you reached out to grab Bucky’s left hand, squeezing it with yours as you leaned into his side a little.

As soon as your fingers closed around his, Bucky pulled his hand back and rounded your body. You watched his movements with a small frown but you couldn’t help but smile softly as he held out his right hand to you, flexing his finger in invitation and you took his hand, holding it tightly as you once more leaned into his side, wanting nothing more than to be close to him. But Bucky seemed to have caught your frown because he sighed softly, keeping his eyes firmly on the exhibit as he spoke.

“Sorry, Sweetheart.” He whispered. “I’d rather you hold my flesh hand.”

“There’s nothing to apologise for.” You said softly, deciding against speaking up on his worries so as to not ruin the date for him. “I simply want you to be comfortable.”

Bucky was quiet for a few seconds before he changed the topic. “Do you like the exhibition? I think it’s really interesting to learn about all the ways space travel has changed and hear about the new planets we’ve made contact with.”

“It really is.” You agreed, going with his change in topic and offering him a playful smile. “And I enjoy seeing you so invested and excited about something. You can be such a nerd and I love it.”

“And you’re any better?” He teased right back, giving you a sly smirk. “You’ve read every informational sign there was to read.”

“I’ve never said I wasn’t just as big of a nerd.” You chuckled, leaning your head onto his shoulder. “That’s why we get along so well.”

Bucky smiled and pulled you into a gentle kiss, his right hand settling on the small of your back as he leaned into you. All you could do was reciprocate, your eyes fluttering shut just as his did. He pulled back all too soon but he kept his forehead leaning against yours as he sighed softly. “I love you so much.”

“I love you just as much.”

---

It was three days later that you noticed how big Bucky’s concerns were once more. He still took his arm off when you slept in bed with him and avoided having you hold his left hand every time but you really saw his fears when the two of you shared an intimate moment. You were in Bucky’s lap, his right hand on your hip, guiding your movements. His face was buried at your neck, nipping and kissing the flesh there as you held onto him. His hand tightened on your hip and the metal one clenched the headboard behind him.

You moved your hands from his shoulders, intending on trailing them down his body but as you took them off him you lost your balance and tipped backward. Bucky reacted quickly and brought his left hand around you to catch your fall, holding you up by your upper back, stopping his previous movements, and looking at you in worry. Tipping backwards so suddenly startled you and you gasped in surprise. And just as you did Bucky froze, eyes going wide in what you could only describe as horrified guilt as he pulled away his left hand, switching it with his right to pull you back into a sitting position.

When he was sure you wouldn’t lose your balance again he pulled back all together, gently coaxing you off him and physically withdrawing from you, face scrunching up in concern. You got to your knees, getting closer to him again, feeling worry rise in you at his actions. While you knew he held back from touching you with his metal arm this extreme of a reaction to accidentally touching you with it was concerning. But before you could speak he did.

“I am so sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“I am so sorry that I hurt you.” Bucky explained quickly, getting to his knees and placing his right hand on your shoulder to turn your upper body around so he could see your back. “All I could think of was not letting you fall. I didn’t think this through and I-- I caught you with the vibranium arm and-- and now I’ve hurt you.”

You were quick to get onto your knees and bring your hands to his shoulders, making him look at you. “Bucky, I’m fine, I swear. You didn’t hurt me at all, I promise.”

“But you gasped. It sounded like I hurt you when I caught you.”

“Bucky, you didn’t hurt me.” You assured him, looking at him in earnest. “I gasped because I was surprised at falling. If anything, you caught me and probably stopped me from actually getting hurt. You did not hurt me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” You assured him and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his temple. “You could never hurt me.”

Bucky opened his mouth but then closed it again, deciding to remain quiet and instead simply drew you close to him, bringing his right arm up to hold you sightly. You had a suspicion about what he had been planning to say but you said nothing and simply wrapped your arms around him, climbing into his lap to cradle his head to your shoulder and Bucky took a deep breath before he spoke again.

“Can we simply cuddle tonight?”

“Of course, we can.”

“I’m sorry for ruining--”

“I’m not even going to let you finish that sentence.” You interrupted, keeping your voice gentle. “You haven’t ruined anything and you could never ruin anything by not wanting to sleep with me or needing to stop in the middle of sex. Do you understand?”

He nodded against your shoulder. “I understand.”

“How about we cuddle up under the blankets and simply watch a movie?”

“Depends.” Bucky drew back to give you a playful smile and that was enough to ease your worries a little bit. “Will there be popcorn?”

“Of course.”

---

Bucky’s terrified reaction to thinking he had accidentally hurt you didn’t leave your mind for days. You made sure to assure him that you felt absolutely safe with him and eventually he started to relax again. Your routine continued as usual until, after a small mission, Sam came over for a visit to celebrate everyone’s safe return. The three of you had eventually ended up watching a movie on your sofa after dinner -- one that Sam had suggested because Bucky hadn’t seen it, yet.

As the movie went on you inched closer to Bucky, wanting to be close to him after a rather hard mission. So while he was engrossed by the movie you reached out to lift his left arm up and put it around your shoulders. It took Bucky a few seconds to react and he moved his arm away from you, resting it on the back of the sofa before looking at you.

“Would you mind switching sides with Sam?” Bucky asked softly, a frown on his face as he looked at you. “Then I can hold you all evening, Doll.”

You looked at him for a second, worry overtaking you as you once more saw how worried he was about touching you with his vibranium arm. “I don’t mind staying on your left, Love.”

“Sweetheart, I’d be more comfortable if you moved to my right side.” Bucky explained quietly before turning to Sam. “You wouldn’t mind switching sides, right?”

Sam’s worried eyes locked with yours for a second before he looked back at Bucky. “Of course not.”

With that, he stood and the two of you switched sides, Sam on Bucky’s left now and you on his right. Bucky extended his right arm and you gave him a soft smile before leaning into him, embracing him as he pulled you close to his side. The three of you continued to watch the movie but all you could think about was how worried Bucky still was about touching you with his metal arm and wondering how you could prove to him that he didn’t have to be. When the move was over and Bucky left to put the dishes away you couldn’t help but speak to Sam about it, wanting to hear someone else’s thoughts on this whole situation.

“How do I help him with that?”

“With the dishes?”

“No.” You rolled your eyes a little, annoyed by him not immediately understanding the issue but also somewhat understanding the miscommunication. “I mean how do I help him with how scared he is to touch me with his metal arm? It seems like he’s scared to hurt me with it.”

Sam looked at the door to the kitchen before nodding. “Now that you say it he really seems a little concerned about it.”

“He is more than a little concerned, Sam.” You said, sounding more worried by the second. “He keeps me exclusively to his right side, he won’t touch me with his left hand and he panics whenever he accidentally does so.”

“Really?”

“Last week he caught me with his left arm and went into a downright panic, apologising for hurting me multiple times.” You recounted the event that was still present in your mind before sighing. “I really want to help him see that I am not afraid of him hurting me and that I trust him completely but I don’t know how. Do I just tell him? Do I show him? How do I show him?”

Sam thought for a few seconds before sighing softly. “I would continue doing what you’re already doing -- telling him you don’t mind him touching you with it, showing him that you trust him and just reassuring him when he overthinks.”

“You think that will be enough?”

“He’s made such great progress and you helped him with that. I can’t remember the last time he was so relaxed and smiling so much.” Sam reassured you with a soft smile. “You help him a lot.”

“I just worry about him.”

“I think that he’s spent so long thinking of his arm as nothing but a weapon -- even after he got the vibranium one -- that it will simply take him some time to realise that it’s not inherently dangerous.”

His words got you thinking for a few seconds before you nodded. “That actually makes a lot of sense.”

“Of course, you should respect it if he feels more comfortable not touching you with his left arm, but you could always simply talk to him. If you think bringing this up will help, then sit down with him, tell him that you feel absolutely safe with him, and reassure him.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

“Anytime.”

“What are you two talking about?” Bucky asked as he walked back into the room, chuckling a little as you and Sam turned around in perfect unison. “That synchronised head turn is pretty creepy, you know?”

“Should we stand at the end of a hallway like the twins in The Shining?”

Bucky gave you a questioning look. “I don’t think I’ve seen that movie before.”

“We could watch it right now.” Sam exclaimed before smiling a little as he came up with a quick excuse as to what you two had been talking about. “We were actually just wondering what movie to watch next.”

“Then let’s watch that movie.” Bucky said and sat back down, pulling you close to him. “It’s a horror movie, I assume from context, right? Won’t it scare you, Doll?”

You chuckled and kissed his cheek. “Horror movies don’t scare me. Besides, they are nothing compared to the bad guys we fight on a daily basis.”

“Will you get scared?” Sam grinned at Bucky, giving him a teasing look. “If you end up scared in your partner’s lap, I will laugh at you. I hope you know that.”

“I don’t get scared that easily.”

“We shall see.”

---

After your talk with Sam and deciding you should speak to Bucky about his fears, you waited for the right time to do so but when it never seemed like the appropriate moment, you sat down next to him on the bed one quiet evening. The slight drizzle outside had forced you to stay in that day and Bucky was reading on the bed when you came inside. He looked up from his book to give you a small smile but when he saw your serious expression he put it down and sat up properly.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

“Can I talk to you?”

“You can talk to me about literally anything.”

You nodded and sat down on the bed next to him. “I’m gonna say it straight out because I don’t want to beat around the bush and honestly, I’m unsure of how to approach this subject. I realised that you are worried or afraid to touch me with your vibranium arm and I need you to know that I am not scared of it or worried you’ll hurt me with it.”

Bucky looked at you for almost a full minute before he seemed to have concluded what to say. “Doll, I really appreciate you telling me that you’re not afraid of-- of my arm and that you’re speaking up on this because you worry about me but I-- I know how strong and destructive this arm is. It was built as a weapon.”

“But it no longer is. You use it to help people, to protect them. I just-- I mean, just on the last mission we were on you saved a whole elevator full of innocent civilians by holding it up until they could be evacuated.” You tried to reason. “I know it’s hard for you to believe and I understand that.”

“It’s hard to realise that. I know that I help innocent people and I know that what happened to me wasn’t my fault, trust me. After everything that happened, I’ve learned that.” Bucky said before sighing deeply, taking your hand into his right one. “But that doesn’t change the fact that objectively speaking the arm was designed to be a weapon, that it’s capable of terrible things and could hurt you even if I don’t want to.”

“Anyone is capable of hurting people, metal arm or not, James.”

“It was designed as a weapon.” Bucky repeated and you realised how mentally caught up he was on that fact. “A gun is still dangerous even if it’s not inherently bad.”

You were quiet for a second, gaze dropping to his vibranium arm. “The arm you have now wasn’t designed as a weapon, though. You got it in Wakanda, not at a Hydra base. The scientists there gave it to you because they trust you not to hurt anyone.”

“Yet they put in a mechanism that allowed them to detach it with the press of a button.” Bucky said, eyes dropping and tearing up just slightly. “And I don’t blame them for not trusting me completely.”

“I do.” You said in earnest, squeezing his hand with both of yours. “I trust you blindly, James. Please try to believe me that I trust you completely.”

Bucky looked up at that, teary eyes meeting yours before he pulled his hand away to wrap around your shoulders and pull you into a tight embrace, burying his face at your shoulder. You quickly hugged him back, bringing a hand up to cradle his head.

“Thank you, Love. Your trust means the world to me.” Bucky whispered into your shoulder, voice tight with emotions. “But I still know that the arm could potentially harm you and I mean-- I would feel better if I weren’t touching you with it.”

“That’s alright.” You said softly, holding him tightly. “Whatever you need is alright. I just noticed how scared you were and I wanted you to know that I trust you.”

“Thank you.”

---

A new mission coming along shoved all your remaining worries to the back of your mind. Now infiltrating a base of previous HYDRA agents to retrieve secret files was not an easy task but you and Bucky had encountered hurdles far bigger and together you had always managed to overcome them. It took a while but eventually, you two were rushing to your getaway car, dodging bullets from the former agents while you kept the files safely clutched against your chest.

Bucky threw open the car door and got inside while you slid across the hood of it to get to the passenger side. Once you were inside, he hit the gas and took off, tires screeching against the concrete and you gripped the back of the seat to keep yourself steady as he swerved around a building to get away from the abandoned warehouse the former agents had holed up in. As you buckled up he turned to you for a second.

“You okay, Doll? No injuries?”

“I’m fine. How about you?”

“Me, too. Let’s get out of here.”

But before you could there was a loud bang from underneath the car and before you knew what was happening the vehicle flipped over. Everything went by in a blur. The car landed on the roof and when you opened your eyes again you found yourself hanging upside down from your seat. Bucky unbuckled himself and was at your side in an instant, worry etched on his face.

“Are you alright?”

“Mostly fine. What happened?”

“I think they threw a bomb underneath the car. I know I did it once back under HYDRA’s control and the whole car flipped over like ours did.”

You were about to answer when a shot was fired at the car and pierced through the back window before the bullet lodged itself in the back of your seat’s fabric. Bucky pulled out his gun and you tried to free yourself from the seatbelt just to realise that its mechanism had been damaged in the crash, leaving you unable to unbuckle it. Anything you could have used to cut yourself free was out of reach and so was your gun. Panic rose in you as you turned to look out the window to find one of the agents approaching your getaway car with a rifle in their hand.

They aimed at your head and fired. Fully expecting to be hit you turned your head away, not able to move much due to the seat belt still holding you relatively in place. You knew that even if you moved your upper body, the agent would still be able to hit you if they just slightly readjusted their aim, so you closed your eyes in anticipation. Then suddenly a metallic clang echoed through the car and when you looked back toward the window you found your sight obstructed by Bucky’s vibranium arm.

He had blocked the bullet with it. He had saved your life.

Then he fired at the agent that had shot at you, sending them to the floor. Quickly, he used the vibranium arm to yank your seatbelt from where it was fastened to the car and free you. Once out from your confinement, you grabbed your gun and helped him shoot at the agents to take them out.

And soon enough, all of them were down just in time for your backup to arrive. Both of you were quickly helped into the other car and then you were off on your way, Bucky sitting next to you in the back of the SHIELD van. When the van had started driving off and you two knew you were safe, Bucky turned to you.

“Are you injured, Love? They didn’t hit you, did they?”

“No, they didn’t.” You said, taking his left hand into yours and before he could pull it back you shook your head, speaking up again. “You saved me. You say the arm was designed as a weapon but today it saved my life.”

Bucky looked at you for what felt like forever but was realistically not more than about a minute before his vibranium hand squeezed around yours, eliciting a small smile from you. He was slowly realising that his arm was more than a weapon and seeing that it had the potential to protect the ones he loved. You knew that holding your hand was a small step forward but it still meant moving in the right direction.

“Thank you for saving my life, James.”

“I would always save you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

---

A few hours later found you and Bucky at your place, reclining on your bed and watching a movie on your laptop. Bucky was still working off his list of things he had missed, the idea having been something he’d picked up from Steve a few years earlier, and this evening you two had decided to watch a movie that he had yet to see. The blanket was draped over the two of you and Bucky’s right hand was settled on your hip, thumb gently rubbing your skin. With the adrenaline of the mission wearing off, Bucky right next to you, and the sun setting outside you felt your eyelids growing heavy. The movements of your left hand that had been running up and down his right arm were faltering now and again. Your head kept drifting onto Bucky’s shoulder before you brought it back up to watch the movie.

But eventually, your exhaustion combined with his gentle ministrations made you drift off, head coming down to rest on his shoulder and body snuggling into his side. Had you not been so exhausted from the fight you would have noticed that your head had fallen onto Bucky’s left shoulder, left hand coming up to wrap around his biceps.

You were awoken a few minutes later by a loud noise coming from the television, immediately followed by Bucky quietly swearing and the volume being turned off. Blinking your eyes open, you turned your head to look up at him and he gave you an apologetic smile.

“Go back to sleep, Doll. I turned the volume down. You can rest.”

With another soft smile you snuggled back up to him, your cheek smushed against the cool vibranium of his left arm and your hand once more holding onto his biceps. It was a few seconds later that you realised you were holding onto his left arm and you tilted your head up to look at Bucky. When he saw your head turning he examined your face, taking in your thoughtful expression.

“What are you thinking about, Doll?”

“I’m leaning against your left arm.” You whispered, running a finger up the biceps of said arm. “Is this really alright for you? As I said, I’m not afraid of you hurting me and I trust you completely, but I know that you don’t really like touching me with it and I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You were right, earlier in the van.” He said softly, eyes flicking to the window so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact. “Had it not been for my vibranium arm, you might not be here right now. And it made me think about all the things you’ve said about the arm beforehand.”

“How so?”

“The arm was meant to be a weapon, the one from Hydra most definitely, and even the one I got in Wakanda had the potential to be used as one. But you were right about it not being used as one anymore, or at least not outside of fighting bad guys.” Bucky concluded, eyes flickering to your face once before focusing back on the window. “It helped me save you and it helped me save many others before.”

“I’m glad you’re starting to see your arm as something other than a weapon.”

Bucky turned back to look at you before resting his cheek against your head. “It’s something that’s been ingrained in my brain for a long time, though, so please give me time, and don’t be upset if I’m ever withdrawing from you or afraid to touch you.”

“I would never be upset with you for that, James. Why would you even think that?”

“Because you always get so sad when I talk negatively about myself or the arm.”

“That’s not because I’m upset with you. I understand that it’s hard to see a part of yourself that others have misused as a weapon as anything but that. When you say things like that it makes me hurt for you.” You explained softly, bringing a hand up to cup the cheek that wasn’t smushed against your head. “And I know you don’t like people pitying you but that’s not what I’m doing. I love you and I hate seeing you in any sort of distress.”

“I’m doing much better now.” Bucky promised quietly. “I mean, I’m far from fine and I still have nightmares and fears and the like, but I’m so much better than I was before and I will get better in the future. So please don’t worry about me too much, Doll.”

“James, take one look at me and tell me that you think I’d be able to not worry about you.” You joked, earning a small laugh from him. “You know me too well for that.”

Smirking a little at your joke, Bucky reached out to turn the movie off and flicked the switch on the bedside lamp. “Still, please try not to be too concerned. You’re helping me an awful lot, I hope you know that.”

“And I hope you know that every step you take in your recovery, no matter how small it might seem, is something you can be proud of. I’m proud of you for how far you’ve come.” You closed your eyes then, cuddling up to him. “And I trust you with all my heart.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. That’s on you for being trustworthy.” You whispered. “But is it physically uncomfortable to keep the arm on while sleeping?”

“No, with the new one, it’s not. The old metal one was heavier and could get uncomfortable but this one is fine.” Bucky said with a smile before kissing your head as you snuggled closer to his side, your head moving to rest on the junction between his vibranium arm and his shoulder, allowing him to wrap his left arm around you. “Thank you for everything, Love. I love you so much.”

“Right back at you, Sweetheart. I love you just as much.”

[mysecretwindowuniverse]

Season 1 | Oswald + The Dons

[abarbaricyalp]

Hi! Intimacy prompt #36 for SamBucky?

#36 being pushed against a wall Sorry this took so long! // CW: Injury/blood

It had been a while since Bucky had been manhandled and he didn't really care for the sensation. The only saving grace was that it was Sam who was doing the shoving.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded as he shook Bucky by the lapels.

Bucky blinked at him, trying to clear dust and grit and flashbang from his eyes. He'd know Sam blind, but he still liked to be able to see him anyway. "I saved your life. You're welcome."

Just below Sam's knuckles, Bucky's heart was beating a ferocious time. There had been many times when Bucky reacted without thinking, pulled off some feat he was sure he wouldn't be able to if he'd intentionally tried. All of them paled in comparison to the blackout he'd just had when he'd realized Sam was directly in the line of fire from a row of combat robots who all had multi-shot weapons trained on him. One moment he was following the trajectory of a barrel, the next he and Sam were on the ground, rolling out of the way.

He'd been too far away to grab Sam. There must have been a running start to it, but Bucky couldn't remember. He didn't remember how he'd tackled Sam or how he kept from crushing him into the unforgiving concrete of the ground. And he wasn't sure how the robots had all ended up exploded, but there was a grenade missing from his tac belt, so he assumed those two things were related.

Sam was standing really close. So close, Bucky could smell the sweat dripping down his face, feel his breath as Sam panted at him, watch a bead of blood as it welled and then fell from his brow.

Then Sam was undressing him, which was a shock to the system.

"What are you doing?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level. It came out bored, which was great since his heart rate had just increased by 33%.

"You were shot," Sam snapped. He was holding Bucky up against the wall with a knee against Bucky's leg and his opposite hip pressed into Bucky's. Christ alive, he was really close. Bucky wasn't sure if he should blame himself or Sam when his forehead came down on Sam's shoulder.

Sam shoved him upright again with a jarring of his shoulder. "Don't pass out," he ordered.

"I got shot?" Bucky finally pieced together. "When?"

The glare Sam leveled on him was enough to stall out the wild beating of his heart and then trip it back into overdrive. He finished getting Bucky's jacket off and--oh, yeah, he'd definitely been shot. He just felt his jacket peel away from three different wounds. Nausea flowed through him briefly, but he got it under control. If he threw up on Sam's boots, he'd never hear the end of it.

"I had it handled. I knew what they were doing," Sam was bitching, voice tight and strained and scared. "Where the hell did you even come from?"

Bucky made his vision stop swaying long enough to focus on Sam's face again. "I was next to you," he said. His voice sounded far away, which was probably not great. He spit out blood and was pleased when no tissue seemed to be present in it. "I was just a few steps away."

"No you weren't," Sam insisted. "You weren't anywhere near me."

Bucky's stomach hurt too much to argue. "It's not like I'm gonna die," he pointed out. "Relax."

That glare came back out. Bucky had the feeling that if he had less holes in him currently, Sam would have already socked him on the shoulder. As it was, the glare was enough to hush Bucky. He couldn't stand it when Sam was mad at him for some avoidable thing, like running his mouth. Sam had the best eyes. Bucky loved to have them on him. But his eyes also expressed hurt far too effectively for Bucky to get away with ignoring what Sam wasn't saying. Especially when they were three hair's breadths away from each other.

Sam pulled out a huge compression bandage and then hiked up Bucky's shirt, ordered him to hold it, and began to apply the bandage to the scattered buckshot that littered Bucky's side. Bucky kept his shirt held up, but his head came back down on Sam's shoulder. He could feel Sam working, hands moving faster now. He wasn't sure which part to blame on the sudden crash--the adrenaline rush fading out, knowing that he'd been hurt, or the fact that it was Sam who was taking care of him now. Bucky was pretty certain there wasn't a safer place in the world for him than right in front of Sam Wilson.

"I was fine," Sam repeated roughly. Bucky had seen him like this once before, but it was a much more serious injury. This was nothing in the grand scheme of things. "Why would you do that? Why did you jump in front of me?"

If he'd had the strength to, Bucky would've lifted his head or blinked in confusion. "Why wouldn't I jump in front of you when someone was pointing space guns at you?"

"Because I was fine and now you're bleeding." Sam lifted Bucky's head for him, both hands on either side of Bucky's face so he could hold Bucky against the wall fully again. The brick or concrete or whatever had gotten warm under his body and Bucky didn't like it. "Look at me," he ordered.

Bucky managed, but only barely. Only because it was Sam giving the order and Sam's face promised at the end. "I'm always gonna save your life," he said, which is exactly what he'd been telling himself not to say. "Because I'm in love with you."

Sam's frantic energy condensed inwards, like a star about to go supernova. It kind of felt like all of the air had been sucked out of Bucky's lungs in the same moment. Not because he was mortified at what he had said. Of course not. It had to do with Sam's energy star supernova thing. Bucky tipped forward again, caught up in the gravity pool of it all.

Then all that cosmic energy was exploding into him. Sam's body was pressed flat against his and the wall behind him was giving away none at all, so Bucky was being held up by nothing at all except Sam, it felt like. Sam, whose hands were still on Bucky's face and who Bucky couldn't get away from, even if he wanted to. He didn't want to. He never wanted this moment to end.

Sam was actually kissing him. Sam Wilson. That felt impossible. Unheard of. Maybe he'd been rattled around too hard by the explosion. Or he'd lost too much blood and had passed out. He was imagining all of this.

"Ow," he said into Sam's mouth when Sam crushed his nose with another desperate push into Bucky's space. "No, wait, don't stop," he added quickly when Sam sank back and took all his star warmth with him.

"You weren't-- You weren't kissing back," Sam objected. "And...and you're bleeding. Oh my God, your face is so pale, you're almost green."

"I don't care," Bucky argued. And he really didn't. He'd kiss Sam until he was blue and purple and red and yellow and green and orange and stripped and spotted and flashing. He brought his metal hand up to Sam's neck, because that was the one still responding to his brain, and pulled him into another kiss. He'd really meant to be kissing Sam the last time. He'd thought he had been. Hell, he was a little out of practice, but he wasn't that bad. (It was difficult to find people worth kissing when who he wanted to be kissing was Sam Wilson) It was just that he was kind of very light headed and he really should sit down but this was more important.

Sam kissed him back, crowding even further into Bucky's space until Bucky was certain he was feeling Sam's heartbeat in his chest instead of his own. This was really good. The best, even.

Then Sam pulled away again, wiping the back of his hand over his own mouth with a slightly horrified, strangled kind of look. "Oh my God, you're bleeding," he repeated.

And, oh. Shit. Was that Bucky's blood on Sam's lips? That was fucking embarrassing. "I'm sorry," he said, which was about just as embarrassing.

"I have to get you to a medic," he insisted.

"Wait, hang on," Bucky interrupted, reaching for Sam's flailing hand as Sam tried to grab him. "Are you gonna keep kissing me if we do that?"

The panic eased off enough for Sam to throw him a disbelieving kind of glare. "Later. Fix your priorities, Barnes."

"My priorities are exactly in the order they need to be in," Bucky assured.

He stepped away from the wall, made it two steps with his fingers wrapped around Sam's wrist, and then immediately collapsed. The world spun around him, vision darkening around the outside. He could hear Sam saying his name and holding his face again. This was not helping the racing of his heart.

"Kissed me right off my feet, Wilson," he said and passed out.

- - -

When he woke up in a hospital bed, the first thing he saw was Sam, sitting beside him, reading. For a moment, Bucky thought he was just seeing what he wanted.

"Did you kiss me?" he asked and then cringed at how wracked his voice sounded.

"You told me you loved me," Sam said without looking away from the book.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. "Do you want to do it again? Is it a trigger phrase? I love you," he offered.

Sam snorted and looked down at him. "Last time, it was 'I'm in love with you.'"

"I'm still in love with you," Bucky promised. "More now, I think." As he stared up at Sam from the bed and lackluster pillows with wide, slightly medication-heavy eyes, he kind of felt like a loyal dog begging for pets. He was not above begging.

Sam rolled his eyes, but he was smiling and then he was leaning over to kiss Bucky again. This was a thing Bucky was going to get to have and get to do for the foreseeable future. This was great.

The heart monitor Bucky was attached to kicked up instantly.

"It was better up against the wall," he said when Sam sat back a little.

"Uh-huh," Sam said doubtfully. "I'll hold you up against something." And he kissed Bucky again.

[dance-is-life27]

The Bet

Joaquin Torres x Reader

Summary: You make a bet with your boyfriend, Joaquin, that involves cockwarming him for the entirety of a soccer match.

Warnings: Female Reader, 18+, smut, blowjobs, it goes like straight into the smut, very little plot

A/N: This fic was created solely based on the fact that I need to give Danny Ramirez Joaquin Torres head and this post from @tigerlillyyy Also I haven't written smut in like years so if this is bad, I'm sorry. Reblogs are appreciated more than likes!

You let your eyes flutter shut as Joaquin tosses his head back. A breathy groan leaving his lips and the word fuck has never sounded more beautiful falling out of his mouth. Your thighs clench together at the sound.

“Baby, I don't think-, I can't-,” Your eyes reopen to find Joaquin staring at you once more. His pupils blown wide and his curls a mess atop his head. “Baby please, you're killing me here.” 

You let out a hum that has Joaquin twitch in your mouth before you pull off of him completely, allowing his teasing to come to an end temporarily. 

“What's the score baby?” You ask, your voice raspy, jaw sore, and throat dry, but you'll deal with those things later, you have far more pressing matters at hand. Joaquin breathes heavily over you, his eyes flicking up toward the screen and then back down towards you, twice. 

Huh, not very good then. “That bad?” You pout, mock upset filling your voice. Truthfully you don't care about how badly the match is going for your team, at least not right now. Right now your sole focus is on Joaquin and making sure he holds up his end of the bet.

Joaquin lets out a whine as he nods, you've been stroking him this entire time, not giving him a proper break from you. “Please, mi amor, I can't take it. It's too much.” Joaquin shudders out in a whisper and you can't help the smirk that rises on your lips. 

“Oh yeah? You wanna call the bet off?” Joaquin’s once half-lidded eyes spring open at your words, “Oh don't act so surprised honey. You had to know that was coming.”

Joaquin whimpers deliciously when you run your thumb over his tip, the motion getting him to buck up into your hand. You switch up the pace on his cock, going back and forth between fast and slow as an idea pops into your head. 

“How long until half-time?” You question, slowing your hand once more to allow your boyfriend a moment of breath to be able to answer. 

“15, maybe 20 minutes or so left,” Joaquin answers, one of his brows coming up after his gaze turns downwards to you. 

“Okay then, here's the new bet. I'm going to keep sucking you off, at my pace at whatever speed I choose until half-time, if you cum at any point before half-time you lose the bet. Deal?”

Joaquin’s nod is immediate as he glances up at the TV quickly, “Yeah I can do that.” 

You force yourself to hide your laugh, knowing that your poor boyfriend is already so wound up, you're sure that your victory is just around the corner. 

You don't give Joaquin a warning as you take him back into your mouth, he lets out a hiss in response and one of his hands comes up to rest on the back of your head. 

You go slow, moving at a snail's pace as you suck from the tip of his cock down to the base of it. You let out a moan each time you bottom out, unable to help the way just having Joaquin’s cock in your mouth affects you. And well, the soft groans the man himself is letting out definitely don’t help. 

It doesn't take long for you to increase your speed, allowing your head to bob more fluidly, all the while keeping your cheeks hollow around Joaquin. 

“Fuck!” 

You can't help but keep your eyes open as you watch all the faces Joaquin makes. All of them are of pure and absolute pleasure. From the furrowed brows and the gritting of his teeth to the slacked jaw, head-thrown-back look, all of them incite you to work him that much faster. The hand at the back of your head tightens its grip slightly as your tongue begins to pay extra special attention to the head of his cock. 

“Oh, fuck! Shit, baby-,” Joaquin moans as you keep up your pace. His hips bucking into your mouth on instinct that lets you know that he's absolutely done for. “Yeah baby, your mouth-, oh god!” 

Joaquin continues to babble, his vocabulary switching from English to Spanish to absolute gibberish in a way that has your mind near melting and your underwear fucking soaked. 

“Oh fuck-, yeah!” 

You moan around his cock once more, unable to help yourself from rubbing your clit through the clothes and underwear and Joaquin makes the mistake of looking down, his eyes opening wide to look at you that lets the both of you know that he's done for. 

“Oh, fuck I'm cumming!” Joaquin moans out, tossing his head back as his chest all but leaps off the back of the couch. The hand at the back of your head forces you to stay as his cum shoots down your throat. You let yourself still, allowing Joaquin this moment as his salty cum fills your mouth, and you swallow all he has to offer. 

You pull back slowly, once Joaquin has stopped pulsing in your mouth and his body slumps back against the couch. Your eyes stay on him as he cools down, and your hands rubbing soothing circles into his thighs, subtly reminding him to breathe. Joaquin is halfway through a deep breath you hear from behind you the announcement that half-time is just about to start and to stay tuned for the rest of the game. 

Your lover freezes, all that work to calm him undone in a second. But you still can't help the vindictive smile from appearing on your face. 

“Oh honey,” you start, unable to help the teasing in your tone. Joaquin groans in frustration as you move to stand in front of him. “You were so close.”

Your boyfriend gulps before he speaks, “Alright, what's my punishment?” 

You start to undress, allowing every inch of your clothing to fall to the floor, reveling in the sight of Joaquin’s mouth practically drooling as he takes in every inch of your body with his eyes. “I'll dish that out later, but for now,” you continue, moving to lay back against the rest of the couch with your legs spread, “how would you like a reward?” 

Joaquin smiles at you before he leans in, giving kisses up your inner thighs and the game on your tv screen becomes forgotten about background noise.

[amhrosina]

oh god, i made more. i can’t stop. here’s more marvel textposts (seriously sos i can’t stop).

[starwolf479]

Been gone a long time - Whoops... But I've been writing and drawing :D So here are some artworks for my WIP - [ERROR] [REDACTED] [Ȓ̛̤̖̐͟E̲̥̟̙͓̊̒́̌̂B̛̟͈̩̣̏̎̔O̯̩̖̖̿̍̓̋̆ͅOT͙̺̠̣́̅̏̍]

Poor Zane be going through it.. but what else is new lol (Sorry, Zane)

[ex0rin]

+bonus feral super soldiers:

[19thcenturylover]

"Snowing"

Two boys after a little turbulent mission ujum ujum🤸

This comes from a Wingterbaron idea (FalconBaron center) which in turn came from a concept that's in the TFATWS artbook and it made me stupid. It doesn't have much to do with the drawing itself but god, you can't give me a Zemo in the snow and then not use it—

+the sketch, initially I was going to leave the drawing like this because it was a practice of grayscale and values... but no, not because idk what happened and became this :3

[itsawritblr]

"You shouldn't watch 'The Maltese Falcon,' it's problematic and---

Fuck your "problematic." Give me some popcorn.

unmute.

Writers, you really need to read Dashiell Hammett's "The Maltese Falcon." The man is a master of description, atmosphere, and memorable characters.

The movie is amazingly close to the original text, and a masterpiece in its own right.

And fuck people who try to police what other people read and watch.

[solid-white]

What if the serum DOESN'T age super soldiers? So Steve just goes back in the past and 70+ years later he's sitting on the bench young as ever:

Sam: Steve? Is that you?

Bucky: You... didn't stay in the past?

Steve: Oh no, I did, but after 20 years I realised I was essentially immortal. Got bored real quick and pretty depressed when Peggy broke up with me because she didn't want to stay with someone who still looked young.

[loganwritesprobably]

So I'm an Aphmau fan, yes hello - I watched MCD, Mod Mod World, Mystreet, the works alright.

I'm getting back into it, slowly but surely, and I'm working on a rewrite of Falcon Claw University via group roleplay! (If anyone is interested, DMs are open, it's 16+ on discord)

But.. do we actually know what anyone studied? Is it ever mentioned? I cannot find ANYTHING on the topic anywhere online, including the character wikis.

Did Jesson do an entire university season and just never mention what the characters study (major in)? Really?

Does anyone have any head canons? Cause personally I'm struggling - and I'd just love to hear them tbh!

[lilcatdraws]

How would Joker feel if Y/n died? Can you write something for this?

My Everything

Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Death, mention of suicide, violence

Summary: Y/n is killed by one of Joker’s many enemies and as we can all predict, J loses his everloving mind

Author’s Note: Thank you thank you thank you for this request beloved anon!!!! This has been my favorite thing I’ve ever written so far. And also the longest I’ve wrote in one sitting. I’m so proud of myself, I wrote almost 4000 words! I need to do that more often.

This is going to be an angsty one. But it’s not all bad. My oc Matilda makes her debut and there’s a ton of bromance going on between J and his right hand man. As always, enjoy! <3

Taglist: @alittlesmartcookie @unholiiness

“She’s gone…she’s…she’s…” Joker mumbled to himself.

The phone slipped out of his hand and clattered onto the floor. He sat down on a chair and stared out into space, disassociating. 

Frost noticed his boss from across the room. He knew those distant eyes from anywhere. It only meant trouble.

“Boss! Boss! Snap out of it!” He shouted.

Joker jumped up out of the chair. He grabbed Frost by his shirt collar and shook him in anger.

“What the fuck happened, Frost?! How did they get to her?!” Joker thundered.

“I-I don’t know! There’s no way they could’ve gotten past the security we set up. I’m just as shocked as you are!” Frost pleaded his case.

Joker grumbled and released him, sending him tumbling to the floor. Frost was right. Nothing was out of the ordinary. The security and all the cameras J had set up for your apartment were all working fine that day.

Joker stormed into the control room with Frost tagging along right behind him. He scanned the footage from that day and stopped when he saw movement around 2 pm. No wonder the cameras didn’t catch anything. You had left the apartment.

He felt a sharp pang of guilt. He shouldn’t have left you alone for so long. If he had been home or nearby he could’ve saved you. 

Frost’s phone dinged and he glanced at it. He looked up at Joker gravely.

“They found her body. She’s in the boardroom.”

Joker didn’t say a word and marched straight out of the control room into the boardroom. He pushed open the double doors and walked up to the table. His henchmen backed away in fear. 

Your body was placed carefully on the table. You looked so pale, your hair was a mess, and you were splattered with blood. Clearly you didn’t go down without a fight. Joker felt a lump form in his throat. He hated himself for letting this happen to you.

As Joker observed, Frost came into the room behind him and motioned for the goons to leave before things got ugly. The men cleared out and Frost walked up to Joker. 

“Um, boss, what do we do now?” He asked.

Joker turned and looked at him solemnly. “I don’t know…”

They stared at the table in silence for a while. Joker couldn’t stand it. A surge of rage swept over him and he slammed his fist on the table, causing Frost to jump.

“Keep her here. I’m going out. I’ll figure out what to do with her later and give her a proper burial and all…” Joker trailed off.

Frost nodded.

Joker grabbed his jacket off of a hook on the wall, threw it on, and rushed out the doors. He had no idea where he was going but he had to get away from this. He ran down the sidewalk, his brain moving a hundred miles an hour. His worst fear had come true. You were taken from him in cold blood. 

The crisp Gotham night air burned in his lungs as he ran. Long before he donned his Joker persona, running had always helped him clear his head. The adrenaline was a temporary relief from the pain.

It was dark, not many people lived in this area, and he was wearing casual clothes so he didn’t have to worry about being seen. Not that he cared. Nothing mattered anymore.

Joker gave one last burst of energy and stopped, panting. He ended up on the west side of Gotham harbor. A bridge was a few feet ahead. He walked up to the railing and gazed out over the water. The moon cast a shimmering reflection on top.

He sighed. Nights like this reminded him so much of you. You loved to go on walks through the park or other scenic spots in Gotham on cool, clear nights, holding his hand and skipping down the sidewalk without a care in the world.

You were his light in the dark places, his rock, his everything. You showed him real genuine love and compassion. You made him feel alive again. Now you were gone and he would never forgive himself. 

He breathed heavily as he felt the intense emotions weigh down on him. His first response to your death was shock and then fury but now the reality of the situation hit him and he broke down. He felt his breathing hitch and tears form. He blinked them away with a snarl of disgust. He would not succumb to such weakness!

But he underestimated the effect you had on him and felt the anguish come surging back. Then Joker did something he hadn’t in years. 

He began to cry. 

It started out soft but the more the tears fell, the louder he wept. These tears were long overdue. So much pain over the years but he could only think about you. 

“Oh God, why? Why her?” Joker sobbed.

He looked out over the water again, letting his misty eyes wander down to the base of the bridge. The waves crashed against the stone pillars holding the bridge up. Clusters of giant rocks lined the two banks. It was at least 30 feet down.

He felt the sudden urge to jump. He rejected it at first. He wasn’t done yet. He still had many years of causing chaos left but then he thought of how different his life was going to be. 

No more beautiful smiles to come home to after a gruesome day’s work. No more warm cozy mornings spent cuddling with you. No more late night strolls at the park. No more shared laughter. No more y/n…

A life without you wasn’t worth living. So he went for it. He turned his back to the water, spread his arms out wide, looked to the sky, and fell backwards. He closed his eyes as he went over the railing. 

The sound of the crashing waves got closer and closer until…silence.

…

Joker opened his eyes and looked around groggily. He was strapped to a bed and hooked up to several things in Arkham’s infirmary. At first he didn’t fully grasp what he was seeing. Then it hit him. He regained his senses and jolted as upright as the restraints would allow him. He wriggled around and struggled against them.

A nurse came running in and grabbed his shoulders, trying to calm him down. Joker recognized her as Matilda.

“J, relax. It’s alright.” His favorite nurse said gently as she eased him back. 

“No, no, no! It’s not alright! It’s…it’s…” He struggled to get his words out and panted.

Matilda rubbed his back in another attempt to calm him. 

“You have got to calm down, honey. You’re hooked up to a heart monitor. It starts going off and they’re all gonna come running in here like chickens with their heads cut off.” 

Joker breathed in and out and tried to think clearly. His head was spinning with a sensory and information overload.

“Why am I here? What happened?” He blurted out.

“They found you at the bottom of the bridge at the harbor last night. You jumped.” Matilda responded calmly. 

Joker groaned as the events from the previous day came back to him. He woke up thinking it was all just one horrible nightmare but once again reality came crashing down. 

“Why did you do it?” Matilda asked.

Joker looked up at her with sorrowful watery eyes. The older woman had never seen such a look on his scarred face before. 

“My sweet girl, my y/n, she’s…she’s dead.” He mumbled.

He was delirious with grief. Matilda could see that now. Under normal circumstances, he would never have shown such emotion. 

And hold up, the Joker in love with someone? It seemed so unbelievable. Throughout all of his time in Arkham he’d never once mentioned this girl to Matilda. Most likely to keep her safe and hidden.

“Who was y/n? A lover? A girlfriend?” Matilda questioned him.

“She was my everything…my special treasure that made me feel again. She never hurt anybody. She didn’t deserve this.” 

“I’m so sorry, J. She sounded like a wonderful person. Listen, I know you’re still grieving but try not to think about it too much. You need to rest. You hit those rocks pretty hard. It’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

“But I can’t stop thinking about her. It feels like a part of me has been ripped out of my chest.” Joker whined.

“I know dear, but you mustn't dwell on it too much if you’re going to recover. Just lay here and rest. Your body will thank you for it.” 

“Okay…” Joker murmured as she pulled the blanket resting on his legs up over his chest and then left the room to finish her rounds. 

The rest of the day Joker laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. All he could think about was you. Your absence felt like a gaping hole in his heart.

A few other nurses came by throughout to check on him. He didn’t speak a word to them. They didn’t either. He let them do their job and get out. Normally he would torment them by being difficult or teasing them but this time he just didn’t have the energy. 

That evening he grew restless. 

What am I doing here moping around? I should be out there getting even!

It had just occurred to him that by giving up he was letting your murderer go free. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? He would not allow that. He was extremely glad he didn’t die. Even if he didn’t think of it when caught up in the moment, it would haunt him forever that your killer got away.

Sofia Falcone and her lackeys would pay. But first, Joker needed to escape.

He waited until a young nurse came in a little later to give him a sedative that would help him sleep. Before she could prepare the syringe, he looked up at her innocently. 

“Um, nurse, can you loosen these straps? They’re really botherin’ me.” He asked nicely.

The nurse laughed to herself. “Ha. You think I’m gonna loosen your restraints? No way. Nice try though.”

“Please? Just a little bit…” He said and stared her down with his big pleading brown eyes. This was when his handsomeness really came in handy. 

The nurse sighed. “Well, okay. But only a little bit.”

She bent down and loosened the buckles on his wrists a notch or two. When she came back up, Joker head butted her and she collapsed onto the ground. 

He slipped his hands free from the straps and unbuckled his feet. Then he unhooked himself from the different monitors and quickly took his IV out. He grabbed the nurse’s badge and keys and sprinted out the door. 

Luckily, the infirmary was close to the back entrance so he could get out much faster than if he was coming from his cell. He dashed down the stairs to the ground level and through the halls, shoving a few nurses out of the way as he went. He had a small limp in his leg but other than that he was able to run just fine.

How did I survive that fall? He thought as he ran. 

He made it to the double doors of the back entrance and used the nurse’s badge for the identification scanner that unlocked them. Regardless, someone must have reported him because the alarm went off anyway. So much for stealth.

“Screw this.” Joker muttered and ran into the parking lot. 

He used the nurse’s car keys to find which one was hers. A small white car flashed in response. It wasn’t much but it would have to do. He hurried over to it, climbed in, started the engine, and took off. He made it to the gate and sped through just as another car came through the opening. The guard stationed there just sat there dumbfounded.

Joker flew across the bridge and into the mainland where the cops were waiting. He groaned loudly in frustration but kept going. He drove straight towards them as bullets whizzed past his head through the windshield and the windows. Then he made a sharp turn and went around the blockade of cars. 

The police hopped in their cars and sped after him. Joker weaved in and out of other cars as he drove into the city. He made turn after turn and took back alley after back alley, trying to lose them. Finally, he crashed into a dumpster in an alleyway, crawled out of the car, and hopped the fence before the cops could get there. 

He ran down the sidewalk, unsure of what to do now. He hadn’t planned this far ahead. There was a very high chance they were going to catch him and drag his ass back to Arkham. He couldn’t let that happen.

Suddenly a black car pulled up beside him. The driver rolled down the window and shouted, “Get in!” 

Joker breathed a sigh of relief and climbed in. It was Frost, there to save the day like always. Frost made a quick glance to the passenger seat as he sped off. Joker was wearing white scrubs, no makeup, his hair was everywhere, he was covered in bruises, his forehead had a bandaged gash on it, and his lip was busted.

Frost chuckled. “You look like shit.”

“I’m aware…” Joker grumbled.

“I saw the escape on the news so I figured you needed some help. And I also saw that you, uh, well…I’m just glad you’re still here, boss.”

“Aw, quit your blubbering and drive, Frost. I’m fine. I won’t try it again. Y/n wouldn’t want me to.”

Frost nodded and looked into the side mirror. The cops had gone in the other direction so he slowed down a bit. A few minutes later he made it to the hideout. He pulled into the garage and parked. 

Joker thrust the door open and made a beeline for his office/sometimes living space. He desperately wanted to get cleaned up and change his clothes. He shut his office door and flung the closet open. There were spare suits and casual clothes hanging in there. He grabbed his signature purple suit and laid it out on the desk to change into. 

He walked into the built-in bathroom in his office and locked the door. He ripped the bandage off his head and examined the gash. 

Yeesh. That’s nasty. He thought as he threw the gauze away. 

He turned on the shower and stripped off as he waited on the water to warm up. He looked at his body in the mirror. His body was dotted with bruises and small cuts. He still had no clue how he survived that fall.

Once the shower was ready, Joker hopped in and started washing himself off. He didn’t know why but Arkham always made him feel dirty. Whether it be the combined smell of bleach and vomit or those itchy patient scrubs. 

The hot water stung his wounds a little but Joker relished in it. The water comforted him and soothed his aching muscles. The last two days had been hell. This was a temporary escape from his current circumstances.

Joker finally returned to the real world and shut off the water. He staggered out and dried himself off. Then he secured a bandaid on the gash and slathered white paint over it, quickly reapplied his makeup, and dyed his hair green again. When he was done he wrapped the towel around his waist and walked back into his office. He dressed himself, careful not to smudge his makeup too much.

He went to the lounge room, where Frost was sitting on the couch drinking some coffee. He looked up and waited for Joker to speak.

“Go call everyone together for a meeting. We’re nailing that bitch.” Joker ordered gruffly.

“Yes sir.” Frost replied and hopped to it. 

Not long after, the goons were all seated in the boardroom as Joker had requested. He walked in and the whole room fell silent. All eyes were on him. He cleared his throat.

“As some of you are already aware, something very important to me has been…taken. Sofia Falcone is responsible. And as you all know, we’ve been waging in a bit of a war for years now. I did a pretty good job eliminating Gotham’s mob but then she came along and rebuilt her father’s empire, encouraging others to rebuild and ruining all my hard work. This is the final straw. We’re going to storm her headquarters tonight and destroy it along with everyone inside.”

The men cheered but quickly silenced themselves when both Joker and Frost glared at them.

As Joker laid out the plans, Frost couldn’t help but feel a knot of fear turn his stomach. The Falcones were dangerous. It was a suicide mission. The majority of the goons were probably going to get killed. Joker knew that but it didn’t matter. He had to avenge y/n or die. Frost came to terms with it, deciding it was a noble cause.

Once everyone was armed and ready to go, they all piled into the four black cars lined up in the garage. Joker and Frost got in the last car in line and took off. To not draw attention to themselves by traveling as a group, the cars each headed out in different directions but were all going to the same place. When they reached the Falcone base of operations (an abandoned club), the cars pulled in towards the back of the building. They walked up to the door and waited for Joker’s instructions.

Joker stood up on the steps and looked over all of his men.

“Shoot to kill, boys. But Sofia is mine.” He growled.

Frost kicked in the door and stepped aside. The goons stormed in and began shooting at everything. Sofia’s men were caught off guard so many of them were killed instantly while others had a delayed reaction. Groups of Joker’s men moved into other rooms to attack. Blood and debris was strewn through the air. Men were dying left and right and more so of Sofia’s than Joker’s.

Joker stood back and watched the chaos ensue with satisfaction. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of reddish brown hair stream down the hall adjacent to the back room. He made eye contact with Frost who caught on fast. They both went in different directions to seal off both ends of the hall.

Sofia and her bodyguard were trapped in the middle. Sofia dashed back into her office while the bodyguard blocked the doorway. He went to fire at Joker but Joker was too fast and killed the bodyguard with a quick flick of his pistol. 

Joker came inside and slammed the door shut, locking it. Frost stayed out and went back to overseeing the goons. Sofia crouched behind her desk in fear. 

“J-Joker, please! I’m sorry about having your girl killed, honest! Maybe we cut a deal- Aaaah!”

Joker didn’t even let her finish. He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her close to his face. He unsheathed his knife and held it between her lips. Trembling with pure rage, he steadied his hand and bared the knife down on her cheek.

“You…took…EVERYTHING from me! She was innocent! She was not involved with any of this! How the hell did you even find her?!”

When Joker got this angry, he sounded demonic. Sofia’s eyes widened in fear. She gasped for air as Joker switched his other hand from her hair to her throat.

“ANSWER ME!”

Sofia cringed. “I…I have my s-sources.” She sputtered.

Joker took a deep breath to calm down and tightened his grip around her neck. 

“I’ve, uh, tolerated our little war over the years, taking hit after hit. You were a hated enemy but not my biggest concern. Now you’ve really gone and done it. I will not ignore you this time.” 

Sofia grunted and tried to wriggle free from his grip. Joker grinned sadistically. 

“You really need to smile more. Here…let me help!” 

He pressed his knife down and sliced upwards. Sofia cried out in pain. Joker laughed maniacally and loosened his grip on her. She kneed him in the groin and pushed him away. Joker brushed it off and shoved her to the ground. She grabbed his leg and pulled him down with her. They fought for what felt like forever. Punching, kicking, pulling hair, whatever they had to do to keep the other down. Sofia was a broad, muscular woman so she put up a good fight against Joker.

Finally Joker managed to gain the upper hand and pinned her down. He drew his pistol and pressed it to her temple. Sofia’s eyes widened in horror. Joker wasted no time and pulled the trigger. Blood splattered on the floor and her body went limp.

Joker stood up and decided this was enough. He left the office and went back to where the shootout was happening. There were still some of Sofia’s men left. Joker got in on the shooting and killed four of them. Frost took care of the rest. Joker gave him the signal for the next step of the plan. 

“Everybody out! Unless you wanna be burned to a crisp!” Frost shouted to the remaining goons.

They hurried out and piled back into the cars. Frost grabbed two gas cans sitting on the steps outside and handed one to Joker. They both poured them around the building, in every room. Joker purposely dumped some on Sofia’s body. 

He threw a few lit matches down on the ground to get the fire started. Then, once he and Frost were out on the steps, he took a grenade out of his coat, pulled the pin, and chucked it inside. 

Joker and Frost sprinted back to the car. Frost hopped in the driver seat and sped away. The others had already left. Joker looked over his shoulder at the burning building in the distance. It was completely engulfed in flames. He felt content with this outcome.

He successfully avenged you but he’d never be the same again.

[abarbaricyalp]

Short little fluffer-nutter-nothingness-sandwich because the first few lines were so clear in my mind

Written for the @sambuckylibrary Anniversary Event!

"Hypothetically," Bucky says in the middle of the afternoon while Sam is half asleep against him on the couch.

"No," Sam answers without opening his eyes.

"Sam."

"No," Sam repeats more firmly.

"Sammy," Bucky whines, squirms beneath him. "Babydoll. Sweetheart. Love of my life. Sunshine of my world."

"Absolutely not," Sam decides. He sits up, using Bucky's chest as leverage so he has an excuse to touch him, and fixes an unamused stare on him.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say." He's back to fake pouting because that gives him an excuse to spring the puppy dog eyes on Sam.

"Your hypotheticals usually end in us jumping off a bridge into water to escape a bunch of guys dressed like bears."

"That was one time," Bucky objects. He's running his fingers over the back of Sam's head, even while Sam's sitting further back. It does its job of keeping Sam close. Every time his fingers dip to the back of Sam's neck, it sends a shiver through him. "Hypothetically," he continues, "if we left Torres in charge, we could take a honeymoon."

"Oh?" Sam says. "Suddenly Joaquin's qualified to be left alone?"

"He's always qualified to be left alone. Left alone is my favorite version of him."

Sam rolls his eyes. "You wanna leave all the fighting and protecting to Jay, so that we can go hang out on a beach somewhere?"

"Hypothetically," Bucky corrects.

"Four years after we got married," Sam confirms.

"Well, no time like the present. We're never gonna get closer to that date again."

Sam lays down against Bucky's chest again and closes his eyes. "Hypothetically, he'd be the only one we'd tell. No one else is gonna give us permission."

"Well, that's never stopped us before."

"Encouraged us, even," Sam points out.

"Exactly," Bucky agrees. "So let's do it. Let's disappear for a little while. Doesn't have to be a beach. Could go camping or something."

"We got enough camping the last time you 'hypothetically' wanted to hunt down that monster-alien lead."

"Again, not my fault," Bucky defends. "There was a monster-alien in the woods."

"It wasn't doing anything to anyone. You just wanted a picture."

Bucky's massaging Sam's neck now and Sam's falling even further asleep. The argument is about to peter into nothing and Bucky would think he's won.

"What if the world tries to end again?" Sam asks. "What if Captain America needs to save the day?"

"Well, Elijah can stop pretending like he isn't secretly training with all the other kids," Bucky suggests. "He can use that fancy shield Riri Williams definitely didn't make him."

Sam snorts softly. "Good kid. Dunno if he's ready for it yet."

"For the hypothetical end of the world while we're on a beach?"

"Yeah, that." Sam ducks his face under Bucky's jaw and takes a deep breath of his scent. It's the last nail in the coffin. He's got no hold left on his consciousness.

"It'll be fine, Sammy," Bucky promises softly. "Hypothetically."

"Hypothetically," Sam agrees. "Hypothetically, I'd say yes to that. Hypothetically."

[falcon-writes]

IN ONE DAY??? Y’ALL CRAZY

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Three: Fate Rewritten

The Missing Title

Helmut Zemo x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: After bumping into Sharon, you're escorted back to her apartment in High-Town. What lies in wait is way more than you'd anticipated in store for your night.

Words: 6.4k

Warnings: Partying, Alcohol, Power Dynamics, Semi-Smutty, Inferences toward sex, Age Gap

Mentions of: Government, Betrayal, Treason, Hypocrisy, Grief

A/N: I've been waiting so long to get to this part! Ahhh, I feel like this is really when things will start to change, considering the reader's backstory and her growing relationships with the guys. Not to mention that some of the main plot points are finally being set in motion. I decided to not fully wind up writing them together since the chapter got so long, but I'm sure it'll def pop up in flashbacks later on down the line.

It's safe to say that you're more than a little out of it by the time you guys get into Sharon's vehicle. She insists on driving, and the guys need a good view of Zemo to make sure he's in check. That leaves the three of you in the back: Sam, you, and Bucky. As your journey takes you back a similar way you'd come, you can't help but still be fascinated with the lights. What's Sharon got in store for you all? What's her plan? While you're not super familiar with her, you wonder what she was doing in Low Town Madripoor in the first place. Surely, she hasn't been following you all this whole time.

Once she parks outside a luxury-style apartment, you follow Sam out the back door and follow Sharon into her place. "Woah," you whisper, taking in the fact that not only one security guard--slash--doorman stands out front, but two. Through a big metal sliding door lies an art exhibit, glass containers lined with neon blue lights illuminate different sculptures and craftsmanship. Real antique and pricey-looking things.

"Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well," Sam comments as he walks beside Sharon alongside the containers. Whatever she'd been going through when you'd first had your run-in has clearly dissipated as she seems to come to life upon Sam's teasing.

"Well, at some point I thought if I had to hustle, might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler. You know how much I can get for a real Monet?" She asks, gesticulating with her arms as she explains her situation. While Zemo lingers a few steps behind you with Bucky trailing, you can't help but slow your steps upon this information.

"Easy, deactivate your hustle mode," Sam warns, "You sell fake Monets." He wants to clarify. While Sharon might pretend to allude to a profited criminal life such as Zemo, Sam clearly thinks she's a goodie-two-shoes.

"No, she means real. This gallery specializes in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics," Zemo explains nonchalantly as he follows Sharon, continuing to round the exhibit.

"So it's true then? What they say..." You ask them, eyes shifting from Zemo onto Sharon, then finally Bucky who stands a few feet before you while Sam occupies the space by your side.

"It's true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this," Bucky answers, eyes still taking in the pastel-dotted canvas.

"There's no way," you whisper to yourself, voice trailing off as you take in the scenery. Heading down the two steps, you approach Bucky's side, eyes scanning over the Monet painting before you. You've seen his other works in museums, though now you know they were fakes. Regardless, you don't think you'd be able to tell the difference.

"Okay, guys, I see what you're doing. You're more worldly than good old Sam," your friend complains, still stationed where you stood a few moments ago.

"Yeah? What's Google say?" Bucky asks, a playful tone curling around his words as he physically rounds Sam. This elicits your attention as you shift your gaze onto Sam, glad he's now enlightened onto the, well... not-so theory of conspiracy you and Bucky both seem to know about.

"No shit," Sam exclaims, clearly bewildered by the thought. In all honesty, you can't blame him. To think people would do something so greedy and frivolous? Useless? It takes seeing it firsthand to really believe, and it seems Sam's eyes are finally opening to that aspect.

"Come on, guys-" Sharon calls from the stairs, Zemo waiting a few steps behind her as they stare in your general direction. "You need to change. I'm hosting clients in an hour," She informs.

While you don't question her, you are curious as to what sort of clients and business she does... besides selling art, that is. There's a world of art, of course, yet you know that there's only so much a lifestyle of it can afford. Following the group upstairs, you're taken aback by the fact that this whole place is starting to seem like Sharon's.

"Of course, I've got all this stuff out here for you guys-" Sharon eyes the men, "-but I've got a few things you can borrow for tonight. Come with me," she commands.

Following Sharon through a series of archways and pristine doors you find yourself in a massive bedroom. Intricate patterns are embroidered on the comforter, and through an open doorway, you can see that there's a walk-in closet. It's precisely where she's led you, her hands gesturing for you to follow. "I know. Nice right? Every girl needs a walk-in," she comments before chuckling to herself.

Taken aback by the wide array of shoes on the shelves, purses on hangars, coats, dresses, pants, and shirts all hang neatly in their place, their own rack for each category of piece. Though you aren't sure where to even start, let alone if you even want to. Everything is too expensive, you couldn't possibly use them. Sharon speaks up.

Her fingers run across the fabric, only stopping once she spots something, though her back is to you and therefore your view is obscured. "Try this on, I have the shoes to go with them and together? I'm sure you'll have a great night!" She says over her shoulder before winking. With a quick hand she tosses the hangar to you, which you scramble to catch. "I'll see you downstairs, then."

The dress is a plain black fabric, a halter top cut, two slits on either side of your hips at the start of your thighs. It's a little more exposing than what Zemo had picked, though with everything that's happened tonight, you feel for some reason that you can't bring yourself to care. If someone sees something, it's not like it's the end of the world. Besides, with this dress you could wear a thong or panties. Though the panties would have to be matching or sexy, intentionally meant to be seen as a fashion statement. Deciding to just go for the dress, no bra needed and your panties already discarded, you're glad for the comfy snug fit the fabric offers. It's far more stretchy and accommodating than Zemo's. The shoes you have on work, the only thing left to do is to put your hair up. Finding a claw clip on Sharon's vanity, you figure she won't mind if you borrow it for tonight. After all, it's a lot less intimate than a dress.

With a wet wipe from the bathroom, you're all good to go. Makeup is natural enough to pass as anyone, hair is different, so is your dress, and while the shoes may not be, with the darkness of the gallery you're sure no one will notice. Especially not if there's going to be drinking; and no good party lacks a variety of drink. Heading back to the foyer Sharon had originally brought you to, you find the guys settling in nicely.

Taking in the intricate pieces placed throughout the room, you inspect each one carefully. "Much better," Sharon comments, heels clicking against the wooden floors announcing her return.

"What's going on, Sharon? You don't ever wanna come back home?" Sam asks. The shuffle of fabric and the faint tinkling of metal tells you he's changing his shirt again! Trying to find something suitable for him is practically impossible, and this, you swear. Out of your peripheral vision, you see Sharon place something on the arm of the couch while Zemo stands by the bar.

"They'll lock me up if I ever step foot back in the States. Madripoor doesn't allow extradition," She informs.

"Good to know," you joke to yourself. Fingers running along the smooth wood of the desk behind the couch, you don't notice how the comment seems to have everyone's eyes lingering on you for a moment before Sam chuckles and shakes his head.

"Look, sorry I didn't call, but after the Blip and the chaos, I just..." He attempts. This piques your interest, not initially intent on eavesdropping, though this sounds like something a lover might say. Did Sam and Sharon-? You don't wanna know... do you?

"Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right?" Her tone softens, a genuine question reaching out to form some sort of connection. An attempt to regain a friendship, you think. "I mean the way you gave up that shield, deep down you must know it's all hypocrisy."

Eyes rising from the necklace displayed by the clothes rack, your eyebrows furrow in surprise. Wasn't Sharon CIA? To join the government so outright, then denounce it only a few years later? Something's fishy about it and eerie in a way you don't like. Even if what she's saying elicits a subconscious subtle nod of your head.

"He knows. And not so deep down," Zemo comments with a raise of his drink. This garners everyone's attention for a moment. You can't help but stare as you linger on him. Curious... Questioning.

"By the way, how is the new Cap?" Sharon asks, hands in her pockets. You aren't CIA by any means, but you know how to read body language. She's clearly got her guard up, but for what? You're not sure.

"Don't get me started," Bucky groans.

"Please, you buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit," Sharon argues. You round the room, peeking through the windowed panes of the glass doors into surrounding rooms to see what goodies lie there. If the rooms you've seen so far are anything to go by, you're sure the rest of the apartment complex is loaded with treasures. "Before you were his pet psychopath-" it doesn't take looking to know she's referring to Zemo, considering her positioning and emphasis, "-you were Mr. America! Cap's best friend."

Although you don't comment, you can't help the way your lips curl inward in a silent attempt at holding back any sort of chortle or chuckle from emerging.

"Wow. She's kind of awful now," Bucky comments. While you might guess he may be joking sarcastically, you can't be sure. Is he just insulting her? Being passive-aggressive? You can't tell.

"Karli Morgenthau and at least seven others have taken the serum," Sam informs, passing you as he rounds the couch the other way and sits across from Bucky.

"You guys really should steer clear of all this for your own safety," Sharon warns. Being in Madripoor and clearly in a position of wealth and selling artwork underground, she must know the rumors.

"We know it's a risk, but we won't leave until we find the person who cracked the code," Sam responds, unfazed and defiant of her advice. Elbows on his knees he leans in closer.

"We got a name. Wilfred Nagel," Bucky discloses. Sharon gets up and crosses Bucky to get to the bar, Zemo gets out of her way and walks toward you to sit in the lone chair by the side table.

"Nagel works for the Power Broker," Sharon replies. A dissatisfied hum rumbles in your chest. You don't want to think about the past, nor worry about how you're going to find the Power Broker to stop the supplier.

"We need your help, Sharon. I can get your name cleared," Sam offers, all the men's eyes intent on her as she pours a drink. Fingers running over the edge of a tapestry hung on the opposite wall, you listen intently.

"You haggling with my life?" She asks, tone sounding genuine to you.

"Not like that," Sam corrects.

"I don't buy that," She responds, and really, you can't blame her. "You pretending like you can clear my name."

You have to admit that Sharon is starting to grow on you in some sense. She's smart, that much is clear. While you don't outwardly boast the things you know will be demonized, she does, and you can respect her for that, if anything. Though you haven't weighed in much, you've been listening. Of course everyone has their judgments and suspicions, and while you may be leaping to conclusions, there's a fishy suspicion brewing in your mind. You only wonder if anyone else is catching onto what Sharon is putting down. Eyes flickering over to Zemo for a moment, you notice him meet your gaze. Immediately looking back to Sharon, you can't help the tiny smile that snags at your lips, blush forming on your cheeks. Originally intending to gather intel, for some reason you couldn't handle the pressure of his gaze.

"-I'm willing to try if you are," you zone back in on what they're saying. "They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he's met," Sam points out. A chuckle escapes your lips and you shrink in on yourself, not having expected that.

"-I heard that," Bucky comments to Sam, though his eyes and dissatisfied look are aimed at you. You don't even have to see it from your peripheral to feel his stare, the sense of it sending an internal sort of shiver down your spine.

"I don't trust charity," Sharon posits, intent on finishing their conversation.

"All right, a deal then. You help us out, and we get your name cleared." Sharon accepts Sam's extended hand and they shake on it. Downing her drink, she places the used tumbler aside and starts toward the door you'd entered from.

"Well, I sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party. Try to stay outta trouble. I'll see what I can find." With that, she's out of the foyer and onto whatever business it is that she's doing.

"Trouble," Zemo repeats playfully with a shrug of his shoulders, a mischievous look in his eyes.

"Yeah, that's what you better not be," you warn. Eyes meeting his, you can't help but find that his playfulness has spread to you, even if you know you can switch into gear and act in accordance with the mission if need be.

"Well, you know me," Zemo taunts. With a swig of his drink, he lays the finished glass atop the coaster on the table beside his chair.

"That's the problem," Bucky quips, standing as Zemo moves to follow where Sharon had gone.

--------

You have to admit, with wherever Sharon stands in your likes, she can throw a good party... that much is clear. Originally determined to view all the authentic art pieces lingering around the gallery, it hadn't actually taken as long as you'd have thought. With a drink or two offered along the way, you can feel yourself start to loosen up. Hors d'oeuvres are littered throughout the party, and with Sharon being such the great hostess, you hardly feel the usual sense of guilt for indulging when it comes to fancy parties. It also doesn't help that they're really good and you hadn't eaten a lot, really, since Zemo's jet was scarce of in-date snacks. Eating expired foods wasn't really a risk you were willing to participate in today.

As the night goes on you find your way to the dance floor after a little persuasion from Sam. While you all might still be focused on your mission, the excuse of blending in is one of necessity. It's not really a party if there isn't dancing, right? The Avenger eventually decides to ditch you in favor of making small talk with some of the other partygoers. He's most likely trying to seek information, knowing him.

Dancing with Sam was different than dancing with Zemo. You hadn't anticipated for this to happen, but considering he's maintained a central viewpoint for the boys, that just so happens to be the dance floor. He's discarded his jacket at some point clearly as his chest is in full display in the plum sweater he's donning. It'd started off friendly, simply busting out your lamest dance moves for fun in the same vicinity. Yet, as the songs played on and you grew closer in distance to make conversation, the vibe between you shifted.

There's a reason they say not to mix drinks... and now you know why. It takes a matter of a half hour for your resolve to break, the inner dialogue, the constant fighting of the comical angel and demon on either shoulder bickering with one another. Overall, the devil had won- there was no use in denying what you want, that you have a plan, and are pursuing it. You're going after what you want. Using any chance to get closer, any excuse to feel his hands on you. the recent memory of his hot breath fanning across your neck, the spark when your lips met... it's still heavy on your mind and hot in your blood.

"You should know this one," you joke across the few feet between you as you sway to the music, the beat of the music ramping up, the bass and beats getting faster and faster toward that familiar climax you all know so well. 'There's not a soul out there-' bouncing to the rhythm, you let your hips sway as your arms find their way above your head.

'Give Me,

Give Me,

Give Me A Man After Midnight~'

It's a remix, the techno music is very different from the original, however, you can't deny you enjoy the song. It's fitting if nothing else. If anyone were to ask why you want this, you couldn't explain it--not rationally--and looks aren't a good enough reason, you know that better than anyone. While there are certain characteristics that could be said of his mannerisms and personality, you wouldn't dare to compliment or lead to the ego of a madman overextending its peace. Many would argue it already had, after all.

He doesn't seem to mind either. Whether you're simply keeping up the act, even if it's unnecessary here, you both find yourselves indulging in the ambiance around you. Breath heavy with the adrenaline of dancing and the higher temperature of lots of bodies on the dance floor, you're being bumped and jostled by the people around you. His hand extends at some point, loosely wrapping around your waist as the two of you draw nearer to one another. Over all, it's safe to say that Sharon may just have predicted your 'great night'.

As it draws closer to the wee hours of the morning, Sam makes his way around to advise you all of making it an early night. Tomorrow is supposed to be busy, so it makes sense. While the four of you head upstairs in a staggered manner, you find that once you're changed and sat on the bed that you still don't feel ready to officially end the night. Eyes drawn to the red dress and accompanying apparel you'd borrowed earlier, you can't help the thoughts that follow. However lewd they may be, it doesn't stop your mind from drawing up a vague plan.

Part of you knows it's a bad idea, that you shouldn't do this, but then again... what's the worse it could lead to? A one night stand? There's no reason that leads you to believe, rationally, that any of the same thoughts are going through his head at all. Therefore, you continue your trapse down the hallway. The wooden floors creak every so often, and you don't miss the way that Sam's clicking fingers on the keyboard come to a momentary halt before returning to its previous pace. It'd go unnoticed if you didn't know better, but you know he's well aware of your presence, just as you are of his.

You'd already thought this through--the excuse--the lie. It's a shame, really, to have to lie to a friend whom you love dearly... yet, you know there's no telling the truth in this circumstance. Yet, there is... isn't there? After all, you know it'd be taking a play from Zemo's book, you're sure, no doubt, but anyone who's smart knows that all lies hold some semblance of the truth. Hence, your excuse; smooth and comforting material weighing your hands down by your stomach, you're about to walk past the back of the couch when his soft voice stops you.

"You're going to visit him?" It's a reasonable question, a check-in. Something to note, since, he is a criminal... a dangerous person. Someone to be kept in check. Unpredictable, as they'd said.

"Just returning these," you answer, lifting the bundle of clothing and the accessories of your disguise for Sam's viewing.

"I'm sure he could care less, but, by all means-" Sam extends his hand in the direction of the hallway. "If he tries anything-"

"-call out, I got it. I'm only planning on dropping this off. Maybe asking him something if he's up for conversation. But it shouldn't be too long. Don't worry," you attempt to reassure him. "You should get some sleep soon, too, you know? Especially if we're to do this in the morning," you shift the topic, intent on reminding him of what you hope is tiredness showing, even if the bags under his eyes grow heavier with the hours.

With a nod in your direction, Sam lets his attention drift back to the computer screen, intent on whatever work it is he has waiting within the digital world. Though you'd like to say this relieves you, lifts a burden from your shoulder, it only makes the weight on them sink further into you. Whether it's dread, guilt, or shame at all of the incredulous scenarios that run through your mind in possible what-ifs of the conversation to play out between you and the Baron, you can't do anything but shake your head in an attempt to dissuade them. Bare feet padding across the wooden floor, you notice how the dim light that peeks from under the door gives your heart a reason to speed up. Really, its the realization that you've never truly been alone with this man since you've met. The rumors, perhaps, the danger they claim he holds... the possibility of a supposed madman snapping at any point is equal parts exhilarating and yet, still terrifying. At least when you let yourself truly contemplate this fact.

With a hesitancy at the door, you lift your small fist up to the carved oak, lingering... debating. While you'd thought all resolve had fled the moments after you'd downed your fifth shot... the buzz of alcohol has long since seemed to dwindle away from your mind, the accelerating carefree feeling emptied from your veins and replaced by the cautiousness of someone who Sam would tease is entirely, all you. Determined to defy the limits of the box your closest friends place you in for one reason or another, you gently knock on the door.

There's no response. Something you'd expect, if not for the way that there's a shuffle of fabric and then a sigh on the other side. "Come in." Cold golden ornate knob within your grasp, you turn it and push the heavy door open enough for you to slip inside before quietly closing it behind you.

"Hi." It's the first word that comes to mind, the only thing you can think to say, to break the silence between you as he takes in your bare goosebump-riddled legs and the satin robe you have on.

"Hello," he returns the sentiment, unmoving from his position, torso upright against the headboard as he lies in bed, legs outstretched before him. "What a surprise to see you, Schön. Though I should've guessed from the light footsteps and quiet knock. James would certainly not allow me a moment of privacy, nor Sam." Sitting up a little straighter, his hands clasp in his lap. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Swallowing your shyness, as you can't simply stare at him forever--that'd be far too embarrassing--you lift your arms a bit for emphasis. "I thought I would return these to you." There's a wooden chair with a striped pattern of cloth covering the cushiony seat standing by the vanity. That's where you place the pile of folded clothing and shoes. Although you're no longer facing him, you can feel his gaze lingering on your figure. When you turn around again, he has his head tilted, no doubt thinking about something.

"You can keep the clothes, Schön, I don't need them back. However, I'm sure you knew that. Why are you really here?" He questions.

"What if I really was just here to return the clothing?" You offer, mirroring him unconsciously with a little tilt of your own head.

"Then I'd say you're courteous, and ask how you liked the outfit I picked out for you," he retorts. Even from across the room, you can spot a flicker of something within his irises. Whether he's playing with you, toying with you, or testing you, you're unsure. This question, however, puts you on the spot. A bemused smile graces your lips and you don't try to hide it. Taking in his state of wealth, you decide not to comment on how expensive you thought everything was, as you'd rather not know. It's better to play on his level.

"I... thought it was very nice. Not something I'd normally wear, but for a nice evening out, I think it was a good pick. The shoes were cool, the gems on the back," you recount.

"The color suited you wonderfully. Brought out your features, just as I'd predicted," he comments with a somewhat smug look upon his face. Seemingly half-placated with the notion, though there's still something gnawing at the seams of his resolve. "There's another reason you're here, whether you're willing to admit it or not." This is a test, you're well aware.

"Mmm," the hum leaves your lips before you can even begin to think of a retort. Turning on your spot, you can't help but run your fingers along the carved wooden back of the chair, walking your fingers along it and taking a step further into the room as you think. "Am I?" You stop moving, offering a look in his direction. "What if I said that you intrigue me? That I wanted to ask you how you do it?" You posit.

Tongue sneaking out to wet his lips, the Baron listens intently. Though he silently chuckles to himself at you returning his question with another question, the second half of your thoughts elicit a narrowing of his eyes. This notion has caused pause for his own thought. "Do... what, Schatz?" He plays along, subconsciously leaning a little closer despite being across the room.

Though the various thoughts and moments from tonight race across your mind, there's one theme that you can't bear to continue reliving. One thought, one realization that you know will have you getting nowhere in the coming days. Jaw threatening to clench down on itself, you can't help but sigh as your hands ball up into fists by your sides. "I... tonight, I just noticed how... in every instance, no matter what seemed to be going on, you... didn't seem scared. Like nothing fazed you," it comes out a whisper. Those final words. Though you'd been trying to search for the right words, everything came out how it wanted to, yet in the end you couldn't help but whisper the truth. It seemed like nothing fazed him. Meanwhile you... were downright terrified. Scared in a way no one has made you feel. Ever. And the worst of it is that you know it's not over. Tomorrow you will get up, alongside the rest of your friends and acquaintances and get geared up and ready to face a man who's only haunted your past.

"Oh..." Zemo responds, your name falling off his lips as if you were simply a child, a silly girl that he feels pity for. Something shifted in his demeanor by the time you finally raise your eyes to meet him again, not sure when you had dropped your vision to the floor. Possibly too embarrassed to admit the truth.

It's this moment... that's when things changed, you think. Time settles in the space between you, the air thick and heavy with confusion and a cluster of effervescent emotions bubbling up and out of you both into the air, a swirling and confusing domination of raw emotion. There's no denying what's there; the truth, the matter of your age held right before you in time like a reflection of your souls. While you'd both endured a heaviness of trauma encumbered in your life time and time again, there's no denying that he's the older man, that he's experienced more... seen more, done more, lived more. And you... well, let's save the stereotype for literature digests, will you?

"Don't-" you warn, the rise of embarrassment hitting you like a brick wall as you begin to march toward the door with a speed that leaves him in a whirlwind. What surprises you both, however, is the way that as soon as your hand is reaching for the doorknob, his is roughly placed atop it. His hand effectively trapping yours underneath. You hadn't even heard him get up, yet you can feel the heat coming off his body only inches away.

"Come," he beckons, "listen." With gentle hands he peels yours away from the knob as he guides you over to the side of the bed, simply sitting. A pat of his free hand on the empty space beside him lets you know what he wants. Really, you'd want it too... if it weren't for the conflicting emotions in your stomach making you want to tear up.

He seems to pick up on your hesitance as he stands once more, hands tentatively moving to ghost over your shoulders, tacitly asking for your permission. When you don't push him away, he places them on you, hands encompassing your satin-covered shoulders. "You have to understand, Meine Süße," he starts, voice holding a softer tone than you've ever heard him use. "I joined my country's military as soon as I was eligible. From the time I was a recruit to the time I eventually became a Colonel..." Zemo sighs as he tears his gaze from you, the motion eliciting your gaze on him in turn. "The point is, I have been through more, seen more, than you and anyone will ever know. And despite my training, the truth still remains... disregarded by most."

Soft hand sliding down your shoulder to your wrist, his long fingers gently wrap around it as he guides you toward the bed. Sitting, you follow suit beside him, shoulder to shoulder as his arm winds its way around your shoulder. "As I see it, there is only reason to be afraid of death if one feels they have something left to live for. Would you agree?" While speaking you'd noticed his gaze, even if no longer stationed on you, become more far off and glazed over. As you silently ponder on his words, his eyes find your face, gauging you no doubt.

"Yeah, I suppose so... though are you saying you don't have anything left to live for?" You prod, eyes shifting between his as you attempt to read him, the two of you finally making eye contact once more.

"I did, once, yes. Though your friends would most likely also claim my recklessness only provides evidence for this theory," he answers. Zemo may not mention it explicitly, but you know that he's referring to his family. You'd heard the stories from Sam, the details from Bucky. That's why he tried to destroy the Avengers. Or did, considering the rift he'd created.

"Maybe... but you know that most people would argue that when you don't feel you have a reason to live anymore, that's an opportunity to find a new one, right?" You offer. Brushing your hair behind your ear, your vision drifts from his face toward the wall before you both. "And don't get me wrong. I understand. I do, really... I'd be lying if I said that I felt I had any sort of reason right now, but... I also think there's a certain cynicism in giving up hope. Maybe it's my naivety... my lack of experience in life comparingly... but I believe there's hope for everyone."

He hums in contemplation, "Perhaps." It's the only answer you receive, his eyes still lingering on your face for a moment before he, too, finds his own spot on the wall across from the bed. Neither of you move, still stuck in quiet consideration.

Held safe within his warm arms, there's a relaxation that finds you in the blue. You hadn't anticipated the night going this way, and yet... you wouldn't change it for anything. The answer was unexpected, but you can't deny that you'd gotten an answer. Heart thumping steadily in your chest, you finally take in a deep breath before leaning back just enough to peer up at him from underneath your thick lashes. "Thank you, Zemo," you whisper. There's no reason to be loud, not when the night is so quiet, so still, and there's only so much room between you.

"Helmut," he offers, a slight nod of his head downward in your direction, a squeeze of your hand in reassurance.

"Thank you, Helmut," you repeat, teasing slightly as you use the name he'd offered. An amused smile graces your lips and his grip on you loosens, glad to see you're no longer feeling beaten down. Unbeknownst to the both of you, while his grip has loosened, the distance between you is increasingly closing. In a matter of seconds, you can't help but jump off the ledge you'd been teetering off all night long- diving into the ocean that is Helmut.

Pressing your lips to his gently, the shocked gasp that resonates through his closed mouth easily turns into a hum as he returns the kiss, then draws out into a growl as his hand roughly finds your cheek, gripping it tightly with a desperate need. A whimper involuntarily leaves your throat as this happens, unsure what you've unearthed. Slowly forcing himself to pull away, his forehead rests against yours as you both breathe deeply, in need of the oxygen that streams into your lungs and filters through your blood. "Why?"

It's a question you hadn't anticipated receiving from him. An answer that you weren't prepared to give. Even if you both knew of the inklings and sparks that'd been building and dancing around you all night. "Because you were right," an airy laugh echoes in the space between you, "earlier. I did want something else, even if I wanted this, too." A smile stretches upon your lips, and the contagion spreads, Helmut mirroring it as an amused smile of his own tugs at the corners of his lips. The moment is short; a brushing of your noses against one another as you breathe in the same light-hearted air. Each of you tempting the other to be the first to lean in and capture a kiss from the other. Some unspoken instinctual game, perhaps.

Lips darting in for another peck, you're not surprised when his hand moves from cupping your cheek to rounding your head in search of a hold, a grasp of some sort. His hand winds into your hair, fingers gripping it tenderly. Pulling you in with his lips, he draws back, making you careen after him in search of his lips. Yet the instant he lies back, hands moving mindlessly down to your hips to help you straddle him and stay steady, the spark is interrupted. Helmut lies on the bed, a look crossing his face that leaves you knowing.

How can one read a stranger like they're a book they'd left open on a coffee table, passed by dozens of times? The heat where your clothed sex meet his undeniable erection. a spark sated in nips and kisses you'd been teasing each other with all night, yet there's something unsaid. "We don't have to," you voice it. "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to." The hand that's not secured on his chest and holding you up runs down the front of his robe, the thick and cozy material running beneath your fingertips.

"I want to..." his voice trails off, "I just..."

"Don't want to offend her. I understand," you answer for him. Lips pursing into a thin line, the upward tilt of the inner corners of your eyebrows betray that semblance, showing your empathy. Even if to him it might appear as some sort of pity. "Though... if I may?" You inquire.

"You may," he encourages, curious to hear your thoughts. Warm splayed hands lie on your thinly robed hips keeping you steady and preventing you from grinding down on him and teasing further, even if you aren't presently doing so. A precaution, nonetheless.

"I know I didn't know her, and I've only heard a little, but... if there's anything I can say, I'd think she'd want you to be happy." The sentiment lingers in the air, and you offer him a saddened smile, quickly intent on clarifying. "And I'm not saying that to get you to sleep with me, I just... I think you should know. If anyone hasn't said it, I think any wife that truly loves her husband would eventually want him to find happiness again. However, it may be."

Silence settles in the air for a moment, and his lack of response elicits a spike of anxiety as you continue to voice your thoughts. "I know it probably doesn't mean anything coming from me, a stranger, but I still do believe in what I said," you chuckle, "and that includes people some may otherwise consider criminal, but... I believe there's hope for you. To find another reason."

"Verdammte Hölle," he curses. One of the hands on your hip squeezes for a moment. "I know," he acknowledges, "I just..."

"Haven't since?" You question, noticing the slight pinch of his brows. It's a guess, a posture in relation to the circumstance you both come from.

"Exactly," he affirms. Searching your eyes, you leave him no room for doubt as you lean down so you're chest to chest.

"Then we'll take it slow. If that's what you want," you reassure him, eyes searching his for some sort of clue into his thoughts.

"Yes, just bear with me, Schatz. It's been a while for me," He reveals, a hint of red tinging his cheeks. Whether it be from blush, embarrassment, or lust, you can only think of how handsome it makes him look in the golden light pouring from the bedside lamp.

"Me too, don't worry," you reassure. Hands resettling themselves on his chest, you both lean in, lips easily finding their way back to one another.

~~~~~~~~

translations:

Schatz = treasure, sweetheart, darling

Schön = lovely, beautiful, nice

Verdammte Hölle = fucking hell.

Meine Süße = my darling, sweet, dear, honey

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

tmt taglist: @wheres-mylove , @ashy-kit

[800db-cloud]

im sick but im thinking about captain falcon f-zero so idrc about that rn