#lower Madripoor

[embbarnes]

Filthy Fingers.

summary: You check on Bucky after the mission in Madripoor.

warnings: Angst | TFATWS!Bucky | PTSD episode | Sexual trauma | Mentions of SA & SH | Slight SH | Vague descriptions of medical procedures | Swearing

a/n: Back on my bullshit with angsty fics. I wish the series had done something more than brushing this scene off as nothing. I have similar trauma with his experiences, so I sort of put my heart into this. I hope you enjoy, he needs a hug. Unedited. ;; wc: 4.4k

It horrified you, even if you knew about it prior.

After the mission, you searched for Bucky upon returning to the safehouse that Zemo had insisted on using. Bucky had already retreated to the bedroom you both shared, locking himself inside. You knew something was wrong, you knew him better than anyone honestly. He had barely muttered a few words about feeling exhausted before withdrawing from the group. The locked door and his sudden disappearance had you concerned about his well-being, especially considering the shitty mission you had done.

Zemo pushed Bucky to act as the Winter Soldier again, the man took great pride in being his handler and controlling him like a puppet, just as HYDRA had done. He relished in ordering him to attack and heel like a dog, and his cruel comments about using his body, about selling him in exchange for information, made you furious. Sam didn’t quite get the depth of the situation, though he had a good idea, he just didn’t know the extent. He didn’t want to ask.

Bucky’s behavior back at the house seemed unusual, even for someone typically reserved like himself, and you couldn't decide what to do, debating whether to check on him or give him the space he seemed to desperately need.

You also had to fight the urge to break Zemo's jaw.

As deep night fell over the city, a hush descended upon the streets. Sam and Zemo, too, decided to call it a night, bidding their farewells before retiring to their respective rooms. You found yourself alone in the kitchen, the sudden quietness of the house sounded so loud in your ears. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you made the decision to head towards the bedroom. Your footsteps echoed softly in the hallway as you approached the door.

Your knuckles gently rapped against the wooden surface as you announced your presence. The sound seemed to hang in the air for a moment before you slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open. You stepped into the dimly lit room, your eyes immediately fell on Bucky. You weren’t surprised that he wasn't asleep; sleep often eluded him, and considering the memories that undoubtedly came back to him after the mission, you didn’t blame him.

He sat on the floor beside the bed, his back pressed against the wall and his knees drawn up to his chest. His gaze was fixed intently on the wooden floorboards, tracing the intricate patterns etched into their surface. The silence in the room was heavy and Bucky remained motionless, not even lifting his eyes to acknowledge your entrance.

You closed the door with a gentle click and cautiously made your way towards him, your footsteps barely audible on the floor. As you approached, you lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. "Hey..." You began, your voice barely above a whisper, carefully considering each word as you prepared to navigate this situation.

You took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the tension in your shoulders as you shifted your position, crossing your legs where you had been kneeling. Your eyes never left Bucky's face, searching for any sign of acknowledgment. He remained motionless, his lack of response hanging heavy in the air between you. But his stillness was preferable to a negative reaction. At least he wasn't pushing you away or lashing out in his distress.

"I know this is stupid, and it's probably the last thing you want to hear right now, but..." You paused, weighing your words carefully before continuing, "Do you want to talk about what's going on? About what happened?" The question left your lips in a gentle, non-pressuring tone, leaving the decision entirely up to him. You sat there patiently, ready to listen if he chose to open up, or to simply provide a comforting presence if he preferred silence.

Bucky remained silent initially, his gaze fixed intently on the floor. He drew in a shaky, uneven breath, his eyes noticeably bloodshot and surrounded by dark, heavy circles. It was obvious that he had been struggling with sleep, but you knew that even a small amount of rest would be beneficial compared to none at all, especially dealing with the Flag Smashers and all the bullshit you were both thrown into again.

"Why don't you try to lie down and get some rest? I'll stay right here with you," you suggested gently, your voice filled with concern as you waited patiently for any sort of reaction from him. After a moment of hesitation, you added, "I know you might not feel like sleeping right now, but we have so much shit we have to do tomorrow.” You mumbled, “A few hours, at least.”

Hoping to appeal to his practical nature, you attempted to persuade him to sleep by emphasizing the logical reasons for doing so. However, your efforts seemed to fall on deaf ears as Bucky remained unresponsive. You sighed, your arm stretched up to reach for the blanket that lay haphazardly across the bed, intending to cover him and provide some comfort if he wasn’t going to sleep. Just as your fingers brushed against the soft fabric, Bucky's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"I felt it," he murmured, his words so faint that you had to strain to hear them, the pain and vulnerability in his tone made your heart stutter.

You turned to look at him, your hand still grasping the edge of the blanket, and you settled back down fully on the seat. Your eyes met his, searching for understanding as you softly inquired, "Felt what?"

"Hands," he muttered, his gaze flickered momentarily before meeting yours again. "I felt... hands. On me. They weren't his," Bucky spoke slowly but with a certainty that sent a chill down your spine. He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "Not Zemo's hands, but I would have preferred if he didn't touch me at all during the damn interrogation." His words trailed off, hanging heavy in the air between you.

You watched as his brow furrowed deeply, his eyes growing distant as he seemed to retreat into the labyrinth of his thoughts. A maze he still couldn’t get through, he’d always be lost, stumbling upon memories randomly and losing others he had a grip on. The silence stretched on, filled with unspoken memories and the weight of past trauma.

You nodded, remaining silent for a moment as you processed the situation. The anger bubbled within you, fueled by Bucky's own emotions. Zemo's arrogant behavior had struck a nerve, his deliberate attempts to provoke Bucky were infuriating. The man was more than just an asshole in your eyes and words; he was a calculated manipulator, intent on unraveling all the progress Bucky had made.

His creepy obsession had drawn tension between the group. Zemo had persistently tried to breach Bucky's defenses, attempting to draw out the Winter Soldier persona that lay dormant within him. His tactics were cruel and precise, aimed at undoing years of healing and dragging Bucky back into the darkness of his past.

What made it so much worse was Zemo's obvious familiarity with the red book - that cursed tome that held so many of Bucky's painful secrets. You were certain Zemo had pored over every page, absorbing all the horrific details it contained. The book was a comprehensive record of Bucky's torment: control words that could strip away his free will in an instant, precise actions that would render him a puppet, and graphic descriptions of the punishments HYDRA inflicted whenever Bucky showed the slightest hint of disobedience or failure. The thought of Zemo possessing this knowledge, wielding it like a weapon against Bucky, made your blood boil.

"Bucky..." you began, your voice soft and laden with emotion. You paused, searching for the right words to convey the depth of your empathy. "I'm so... sorry. I can't even begin to imagine how difficult this is for you. It's just…not fair…that you have to endure all of this. You never asked to be pushed into this shit again." There was clear frustration in your voice with a mix of anger at the circumstances and deep concern for Bucky's well-being.

Your mind drifted to the apartment you shared with Bucky, while he wasn't always at his best there either, it was a vast improvement compared to situations like this. The space was familiar. He was surrounded by sights and sounds he knew, Bucky found a measure of peace inside the walls, mostly because you were there with him. He still struggled with his demons, but within the safety of your home, he could face them without the added pressure of external threats or responsibilities that weren't rightfully his to bear.

But it seemed that no matter what, the outside world was determined to drag him back into conflict.

In your apartment, there were no manipulative villains, no reminders of his painful past, no hidden ulterior motives to hurt him, just the warmth of your presence and the promise of a better future than past. He had you, and you were always there with him, helping him navigate through the storm that always threatened to pull him down again.

"M'used to it," he mumbled weakly, his voice devoid of emotion, carrying the weight of resignation and defeat. The words fell from his lips like heavy stones of the burdens he had borne. "I've had worse than simply being traded away for sexual favors."

"Yeah, but you shouldn't just be used to it," you countered, "You didn't deserve anything they put you through. I don't care what justifications they gave or what they forced you to do. You, Bucky Barnes, are a good person. You, at your core, are pure and untainted. You are the one in control now. Not the soldier they created, not HYDRA with their manipulation, not anyone else. It's all you."

Your eyes locked onto his, your gaze gentle yet unyielding, radiating unwavering belief in him as you tried so desperately to let him see how much faith you had in him. "You've already won over their programming, Bucky. You've reclaimed yourself."

"Then why won't his memories go away?" Bucky croaked out, his voice cracking under the weight of suppressed emotion. "I want nothing more than to...to forget. It's...it's so hard, doll," his voice wavered, the floodgates of emotion threatening to burst open despite him trying his damnedest to keep it all in. "Why can't I forget the bad, and why can't I remember the good?"

Bucky sounded completely worn down, his voice cracking with heavy emotion as he spoke. He couldn't bring himself to raise his head, feeling an overwhelming sense of shame and self-loathing washing over him. The weight of his perceived inadequacy pressed down on him, making him feel incredibly pathetic and foolish.

Your support through numerous similar episodes didn’t shake off the intense feelings of guilt and self-deprecation that consumed him during these moments. It was as if he viewed himself as nothing more than a heavy burden, a complex problem that you were obligated to solve time and time again. Even a glued vase is still cracked and much weaker than an untouched one.

No amount of reassurance or comfort seemed capable of mending his fractured psyche. He’s still broken, no matter what you do to help.

In his mind, he was irreparable, his former self having been long gone. Hell, he's not even whole. The prosthetic arm, the threatening object that he despised with every fiber of his being. Vivid, haunting memories flooded his consciousness as he recalled the moment HYDRA had finally attached the mechanical limb.

The sensation was overwhelmingly unpleasant - the arm felt unnaturally cold against his skin, its heavy weight throwing off his balance and coordination. In his disoriented state, he could feel the lifeless metal appendage hanging limply at his side, dragging him down both physically and mentally. The phantom sensations of drills and saws assaulted his senses, causing him to relive the trauma of the procedure.

Wide awake.

He was desperate to rid himself of the foreign object, so he clawed frantically at the point where metal met flesh, feeling the cold, unyielding surface beneath his fingertips. The memory of being forcibly restrained to prevent him from damaging the prosthetic flashed through his mind, the clinical indifference of his captors etched permanently behind his eyelids. It was clear to him that their sole concern lay with preserving the integrity of the mechanical marvel they had created, with no regard for the man to whom it was attached.

He was nothing more than a vessel for their prized creation - the arm was their priority, not the broken soldier who bore it.

Then their hands came.

Never-ending hands on his body, everywhere.

They always came when he couldn't fight back.

Teasing, pinching, groping, twisting, penetrating.

Make it stop.

Make it stop.

Make it -

Bucky's loud thoughts were abruptly interrupted as you reached out and gently grasped his flesh hand, your voice filled with concern as you spoke, "Bucky, hey, hey, stop... It's alright, you're safe now, it’s just you and me." The urgency in your tone was notable, yet you managed to keep it soft and reassuring.

His brow furrowed deeply, a mix of confusion and realization crossing his features as he slowly turned his gaze from you to his hand, which you now held firmly in your own, having pulled it away from his body. A searing hot sensation radiated from his scar, and with a sinking feeling, he realized what he had been doing.

He had been scratching at the old wound, hard. Clawing, digging, as if trying to remove something from his skin. His arm, the metal - titanium, vibranium - did it matter?

"It's okay, you're fine," you whispered gently, your voice acting like a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. Your hands worked carefully but firmly to keep his own from returning to where he had been clawing. Your thumb gently rubbed circles on his inner wrist in an attempt to keep his mind grounded. You were always scared during these moments, worried for his well-being as the rooted fear threatened to overwhelm you.

But you pushed it down, maintaining a calm and composed demeanor for his sake. Your voice remained steady as you continued to comfort him, "It's okay... you're doing so good, Buck Buck..." The silly name slipped out naturally, reminding him of where he was and who he was with. You always called him Buck Buck instead of just saying Buck once, you knew that endearment made him think of Steve. And he didn’t like doing that with Steve being gone.

"Breathe," you gently instructed him, guiding him to take slow, deep breaths as the memories and vicious flashbacks gradually began to subside. "You're doing great, just like that. Keep focusing on your breaths." You continued to offer words of encouragement and carefully guide him through the breathing exercises, your voice soft yet steady. His eyes, now rimmed with red, glistened with moisture, the strain of the moment evident in his features.

Delicate streams of tears traced paths down his cheeks, tiny rivers carrying his pain and guiding it out of him. The sight tugged at your heart, but you remained a pillar of support and strength for him to lean on.

"Make it stop," he rasped out to you, his voice thick with desperation and fear. "Make it stop," Bucky repeated, his body instinctively moving towards you as if seeking shelter from an invisible storm. "They're on me," he added, his words barely above a whisper, laced with a haunting mixture of panic and pleading.

You immediately wrapped your arms around him the second his body touched yours, enveloping him in a protective embrace. You would always wait for him to make the first move closer, respecting his space and not wanting to inadvertently exacerbate his episodes. Your touch was gentle yet firm, grounding him in the present moment.

"No one is touching you but me, baby," you assured him, your voice steady and filled with warmth. "And I'm not doing any of those awful things. I would never. You're safe here with me, Bucky. We're getting through this, you’re doing so good. Just focus on me and taking those breaths okay?"

Bucky remained pressed against you, his body tense and trembling as he desperately attempted to hide himself inside your smaller body. His hand darted up to his shoulder, fingers curled as if to claw at something unseen. Then his hand quickly moved to his neck, desperately grasping and pulling at an invisible entity.

The frantic movements sent a chill down your spine as you watched him struggle against phantoms of his past, it never ceased to horrify you to see him react to the glimpses he was shown again from HYDRA. You tried not to let your imagination run wild, but the implications were clear and it only made you feel even worse seeing him play it out.

You felt helpless.

All you could really do during these episodes was be there for him.

Holding him close, enveloping him in a gentle embrace that provided a sense of security and reassurance, something so simple yet so luxurious in his life. Your touch was carefully calibrated, always mindful of his boundaries and sensitivities, ensuring that every contact communicated safety and understanding. You learned what he liked, disliked, what made things better and worse. You would soothe him with those very tender caresses, running your fingers through his hair or tracing calming patterns on his back, grounding him in the present moment.

Bucky really liked when you rubbed his back.

You would speak words of encouragement, your phrases were carefully chosen so they’d break through all the rampant thoughts flooding his mind. You reminded him of his resilience and progress. You whispered affirmations of his worth, validate his feelings, and reassure him of your presence and support throughout the episode.

“It’s not real, Bucky. No one is here, no one is touching you. It’s just me. You are safe.”

The efforts you put into comforting him so tenderly often felt mediocre or not enough, you always felt like nothing was ever working or meant a thing. But for Bucky, they were his lifeline, you helped him more than you could possibly fathom. Having endured these episodes alone for so long, the contrast of facing them with your loving support made them significantly easier, more manageable.

You held him for a while, gently cradling his body against your own. Most of the time, he just needed this physical connection to be brought back to reality, to feel grounded and secure again. Your arms enveloped him in a protective embrace, creating a cocoon of warmth and comfort. Sometimes you’d wrap him in a blanket, but you didn’t think Bucky was going to let you move to grab one.

Slowly, deliberately, you moved your hands up and down his back just how he liked. Your fingertips tracing intricate, soothing patterns across the fabric of his shirt, random shapes and swirls, sometimes a letter or number that he’d weakly repeat into your chest. The repetitive motion seemed to have a calming effect on both of you, a silent reassurance that everything would be alright.

As you continued to hold him, your gaze wandered towards the window. Through the thin, gauzy curtains that hung there, you could make out the blurry silhouette of the city in the distance. The lights twinkled like earthbound stars, their glow softened and diffused by the cloudy barrier between you and the outside world. It created an almost dreamlike atmosphere in the room, emphasizing the intimate bubble you two had created. It reminded you of home.

Still whirling from the events that led to this moment, your mind gradually began to quiet. Bucky appeared to be much more relaxed, no longer breathing heavy and shaking as terribly during his attack.

"You okay?" You inquired softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The darkness of the room cast a deep, night blue hue, partially dulling the angry red blotches that you knew still marred Bucky's face from your sight. Bucky’s sweet, rosy nose glistened from his recent emotional turmoil.

He turned his face fully into your chest, burrowing against you as he sniffled. Amusement colored your voice as you gently teased, "Are you wiping your snot on me?" Your tone remained cautiously gentle, not wanting to upset the fragile calm that had settled over him.

Bucky's response came muffled against your chest, a small chuckle that vibrated through you. His voice was barely audible and tinged with a hint of sheepishness. "Maybe..." he admitted as he pulled back and finally looked you in the eye.

You rolled your eyes, casting a concerned glance back at him as you gently used your thumbs to caress his cheeks. The tender gesture was comforting for him. "Are you okay?" You repeated. You wanted—no, needed—to hear the truth directly from him, to gauge his emotional state beyond the façade he often presented.

Bucky instinctively leaned into your touch, finding solace in the warmth of your hands against his skin. His eyes fluttered closed slowly, almost involuntarily, as he drew in a deep, shaky breath. The contrast between your warm, caring touch and his own clammy cheeks made him shiver. He allowed himself to be vulnerable with you, to absorb the comfort you offered.

"Yeah... I'm..." Bucky started, his voice barely above a whisper. He paused, reconsidering his words. "I'm fine." Another pause. "I mean, no, I'm not but... you know. I'm good." The contradiction in his statement was painfully apparent. He cleared his throat, as if trying to dislodge the emotions threatening to spill out verbally, and slowly opened his eyes again.

They met yours, a swirl of conflicting emotions evident in their depths. It was a typical answer from him, a reflexive response born from decades of forced conditioning and denial of feeling. You had expected it, of course, knowing his tendency to downplay his struggles, but that didn't make it any less concerning.

"Well, it's late. Maybe we should try to get some sleep?" Your lips softly kissed his forehead, tenderly giving him some affection. As you pulled back, you looked into his eyes and reassured him, "If you say you're alright, then I believe you. I trust your judgment, and I want you to know that I'm always here for you, whenever you feel ready to talk about it. There's no pressure, no rush. And in the meantime, I'm more than happy to simply be here, to be your comfort, your support... your pillow, if that's what you need."

"You're too good to me, doll... you really shouldn't have to deal with all this," he said softly, his voice tinged with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. He rubbed his nose a little with the back of his hand, a nervous habit he'd developed over the years. "You've got more than enough on your plate already. Your own struggles, your own dreams to chase. You don't need my baggage weighing you down too."

"Hey, now. I won't hear any of that," you insisted, your brows furrowing slightly in concern. Your voice was firm but warm, you understood why he felt the way he did, but you didn’t like it. "I love you, sweetheart. That means I love every part of you - the good, the bad, and everything in between. Taking care of you, making sure you're okay... it's not some burden I'm shouldering. It's not something I'm just 'dealing with' because I have to."

You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours. "I'm here, by your side, because that's exactly where I want to be. Because you deserve love, support, and care. And because giving you those things brings me joy. It's as simple as that."

You squeezed his hand softly, your eyes meeting his with a look of pure, unconditional love. "So please, don't ever think you're too much or that you're burdening me. You're not. You're the person I choose, every single day. And I want to be here for you, through thick and thin."

"I love you too, doll... I don't know what I'd do without you," Bucky replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He was still avoiding your gaze, but you didn't mind. Vulnerability was difficult for him and you appreciated his honesty even in his discomfort.

"Let's get comfortable, we need to rest for whatever shit is going on tomorrow," you said softly, your voice filled with care and concern, yet a small bite for this ridiculousness of the mission. You were still annoyed you and Bucky had been dragged into this mess.

You began to shuffle the comforter and blankets on the floor, creating a cozy nest beside the bed. Bucky's brow furrowed as he watched you meticulously prep the area, his eyes following your every move with curiosity and confusion.

"You're not planning on sleeping on the floor with me, are you?" he questioned, his voice tinged with disbelief as he observed you fluffing the pillows to ensure maximum comfort. The idea seemed to both perplex and touch him deeply. You had before, of course, at home. But he always insisted you go back to bed after his nightmares died down and he could fall asleep on his own. He didn't like the idea of you sleeping on the hardwood floors with him at night, especially when you could have the bed all to yourself.

"Of course I am," you replied without hesitation, your voice firm but gentle. "You think I'm gonna just let you sleep by yourself after this? Nope, that's not happening. I'm gonna be right by your side, supporting you through this. That's a promise, Bucky, and I intend to keep it." Your words were filled with determination and unwavering loyalty, leaving no room for doubt about your commitment to him.

He let out a deep, resigned sigh, fully aware that you wouldn't budge from your decision, despite the presence of a perfectly comfortable bed in the room. You'd pick sleeping on the floor with him over the warmth and softness of the bed any day. Bucky inched closer and settled into the makeshift sleeping area you had prepared.

Once situated, he gently pulled you towards him, enveloping you in a tender embrace. No words were exchanged, but he carefully repositioned himself, shuffling down slightly to rest his head against your chest, seeking comfort in your presence.

He wanted to be held tonight, and that was perfectly fine with you.

Thank you for reading. -em🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Cover images from Pinterest

[delicatebarness]

i cant read your mind | chapter five

Summary: The Return of The Winter Soldier?

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier spoilers throughout. Zemo. Reader has anxiety and doesn't trust men.

Word Count: 1308

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A/N: I will get through this episode, even if it kills me. 2/? of episode 3.

Tags: @blackhawkfanatic | @cjand10 | @wintrsoldrluvr | @missvelvetsstuff | @buckys-metal-arm | @matchat3a | @shadowzena43 | @torntaltos | @honeydew3064 | @scott-loki-barnes

As the car approached Madripoor, you nervously bounced your leg in the backseat, and you found yourself picking at the skin on your fingers. The bright lights, booming music, and the smell overwhelmed your senses, leaving you to feel uneasy. Just as your anxiety threatened to consume you, Bucky’s hand landed gently on your thigh, giving it a slight squeeze, instantly soothing your nerves. 

Feeling Bucky’s reassurance, you turned to him and offered a grateful smile. His presence acted as a grounding force amidst the Madripoor chaos. As the car continued its journey through the streets, you felt a renewed sense of determination, ready to face whatever awaited. 

Arriving at the club, Sam seamlessly slips into his character, Smiling Tiger. He placed his hand on your lower back as he skillfully navigated you through the bustling crowd. As you moved, you couldn’t help but sense the curious stares directed at Bucky. The whispers of “Is that The Winter Soldier?” come from different areas of the space. But, you also felt the weight of their attention on yourself. 

Suddenly feeling self-conscious in the revealing dress, you attempt to discreetly pull down the hem trying to cover more of yourself. However, your efforts failed as the fabric refused to cooperate, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. 

“Hey,” Sam attempted to grab your attention as he noticed your fidgeting. “It’ll be okay,” he reassured you, his voice gentle. 

In the back of your mind, you knew the truth: you were one of the world’s top secret agents, as well as an Avenger, surrounded by a fellow Avenger who is a trusted friend and ex-Winter Solder. You took comfort in the belief that Bucky still cared enough to ensure your safety. 

~

Emerging from the restroom, you adjusted your dress once more before returning to find Sam, Bucky, and Zemo. You expected to return to Sam’s arm encircling your waist yet you were instead seized by a sudden dread. 

You observed with a mix of fear and recognition as the Winter Soldier once again overshadowed Bucky’s mind. Sam and Zemo remained passive which only added to your concern. Though you knew this was part of the plan, it felt all too authentic and it unsettled you.

With your protective instinct for Bucky, you began to move closer to him, determined to snap him out of it. Memories flooded your mind of nights you’d calm him down after a nightmare, reassuring him that, that isn’t who he is. Now, all seemingly in vain. 

As you approached, he sensed your presence. He knew he was still performing and knew if you tried to bring him back then your cover would be blown. He caught the genuine worry etched on your face, striking a chord within him.

Before you could begin to intervene, a cold metal grip closed around your throat, lifting you off the ground. You kicked frantically as your hands desperately clasped his wrist, your eyes pleaded with him.

Pinning you against a wall, he paused for a moment before he revealed himself to you. A smirk played on his lips, accompanied by a wink as he eased the grip on your throat. 

“Hi, Baby,” he began a low growl in your ear before detecting someone behind him. Swiftly dropping you, he spun around and aimed a blow at the intruder who lurked behind him. You scrambled to your feet, gasping for breath as you made your way over to Sam. 

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us,” Zemo murmured toward the three of you after Bucky forcefully pinned a man against the bar nearby. “Well done, Soldier,” he added in Russian, addressing Bucky. With a vacant expression, he gradually released his grip.

“You good?” Sam inquired, receiving a quick nod from Bucky in reply, never glancing in your direction once. Sighing, you proceeded to follow them to speak to Selby.

~

You remained at Sam’s side as Zemo conversed with Selby, the tension hung in the air. You couldn’t resist glancing over at Bucky as he kept a vigilant eye on her. 

A shiver ran down your spine as Selby’s voice took on a seductive tone, addressing Sam as his cover, Smiling Tiger. You suppress a cringe when he purrs at him. 

You listened to the conversation as they continued, your breath caught in your throat as Zemo approached Bucky: offering him and the Winter Soldier code words in exchange for information. The urge to intervene surged through you as his hand neared Bucky’s face. 

Your jaw tensed as your phone began ringing in your bag, you hesitated looking between Selby and Sam. You reached into it, pulling the phone out, and you read the name ‘Tim TD’ on the screen. 

“Answer it,” Selby demanded you, her tone was sharp. “On speaker.” she gestured to one of the men on guard. The phone continued to ring persistently. Between Selby’s commands, the guarded men, and Bucky’s watchful gaze, you hesitated, uncertainty ran through your body. 

“Hello?” you finally answered, you tried to keep your voice steady despite the rising tension in the room. 

“Hey, um, we need to talk about what happened at brunch.” Tim’s boomed over the speaker, he sounded strained and troubled.  “It’s been driving me nuts.” 

“What exactly happened at brunch?” you inquired, trying to maintain the facade of one of Smiling Tiger’s girls, you exchanged a glance with Bucky.

“You know what happened, the problem that showed up,” Tim replied, his frustration palpable even over the phone. 

“What happened, Tim? Say it,” you pressed.

“The damn Winter Soldier,” Tim’s voice rose, causing you to instinctively glance over at Bucky again, a sense of unease settling in your stomach. 

“Yeah, I’ve got my eyes on the Winter Soldier,” you replied, trying to inject a hint of levity into your tone.

“Oh you’re with him now?” surprise was evident in Tim’s tone. “I guess I know now why you haven’t answered any of my texts, Y/N.” 

“Y/N?” Selby’s sharp voice cut through the conversation. “Who’s Y/N? Kill them.” Suddenly, a gunshot came through the window, killing Selby instantly. 

For a second, the room froze until the guard looked back at you and Sam instantly disarmed him, knocking him out. On the other side of the room, Bucky did the same to the other guard. You ran behind Bucky for cover as he took a stance readying himself with the gun he took from the guard. 

“They’re gonna pin this on us.” Sam rushed as he readied himself for further confrontation. Zemo sighed heavily, “We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead.” he directed. Bucky removed his leather jacket after setting the gun aside, handing it to you with a reproachful glance as he eyed your dress once again. 

Clutching Bucky’s jacket tightly around you, you kept your head low as you stuck close to Sam and Bucky. Suddenly, the light of Madripoor flickered out, and the sound of gunfire filled the air. Bucky’s arm swung around urging you to duck as he yelled, “Come on!”. Zemo had vanished, leaving you, Bucky, and Sam to sprint away.

“I can’t run in these heels!” Sam shouted as he ran. “Welcome to my world!” you shot back as you ran ahead of him slightly. 

Dashing down the alley, you find yourselves cornered by bounty hunters closing in from both exits. You glance around as gunfire erupts again, but it’s not aimed at you - it’s targeting the bounty hunters. With a sigh of relief, you watch them collapse to the ground. As tension eases, Zemo emerges from behind a dumpster, stepping into your view.

“Well, this is too perfect,” a familiar voice speaks, you glance in the direction it came from. Your suspicions are confirmed as your old friend emerges, gun pointed at Zemo.

 “Sharon?!”

---

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[logansgaar]

Autistic Bucky Barnes stims & other headcanons part 1/?

Likes the feeling of having a stubble, but can't stand being clean shaven or having facial hair that's too long. He particularly likes how the stubble feels when he scrunches his face up

Face scrunching and otherwise exaggerated expressions, this one's newer since he broke the Winter Soldier conditioning, he likes being expressive with his face now he doesn't have to be a stone mask

The sound of his hair over his metal hand, he'll sit just listening to his metal fingers swishing through his hair over and over. It's almost imperceivable to average hearing, but it's just the right volume to his enhanced hearing

Can't have things covering his lower face the way his old Winter Soldier mask used to, it makes him feel like he can't feel his face anymore/can't move it (related to the facial scrunching stim). He outright refused to wear something similar in Madripoor and it took some arguing with Zemo that he could convincingly be the Soldier without it

Hand flexing and palpating, includes shifting the plates around on his metal arm even when he doesn't need to calibrate it

He's the Too Much Eye-Contact type of autistic and knows it. He gets frustrated and overwhelmed when he's pestered about it too much because he really doesn't know what to do or what people expect him to do about it. Sometimes he feels like he's not even allowed to look at people since they seem to think he can't do that right, but he can't not look either because that's rude

Similar to the face scrunching, Bucky likes to fidget on purpose, not because he's restless. He likes to just move his body or posture as if to remember he can move and move whenever he likes, he's not frozen and he's not under commands to be still

Can't stand the feel of polystyrene or PVC and will reflexively smack his hand on something nearby whenever he feels them. He's broken a lot of things so he's trained himself to at least smack his vibranium arm and not breakable furniture or walls

Also hates fabric over his metal arm, if he can he prefers to have it exposed because the sound of different fabrics over the metal grates wrong

His strongest sense his is sense of smell, particular smells that calm him are gunpowder, pancake batter and woody, deep smells. His tolerance for people is slightly dependant on how agreeable he finds their natural scent and has a strong preference for rich earthy, grounded smells. Shuri, T'Challa and Peter in particular have the Best Scents but he can't really place why. People who smell more like space/not-of-Earth (like Wanda, Thor, Doctor Strange, the Guardians, Bruce, Carol etc) have unsettling Nope Scents, again he can't put into words what it is. The only Guardians he doesn't mind the scents of are Rocket and Groot.

[neoarchipelago]

Madripoor High (part 2)

A/N: I still don't know if you guys like this... I keep writing it in my corner cuz my mind is just running around with ideas so... if you guys want i'll get a part 3 out. Also there's a whole moodboard of this en Pinterest it's on the masterlist.

Warning: Cursing, Swear words, bad writing in general

Walking through the hallways, hands behind your back, the big man next to you, you used your time to look around. He had eased his grip on you, noticing you weren't trying to go anywhere. What was the point anyway? This is where you had to be. Seeing a vending machine at the end of the hallway you jumped, gaining the man's attention. 

"Oh, oh! Can you get me something from the vending machine? I'm hungry. I got my phone to pay." You said. 

He looked at you emotionlessly. It was almost comical, both of you staring at each other without a sound for several seconds. 

"Please?" You added. 

His shoulders lowered with a sigh. He nodded, making you smile as you both walked to the vending machine. Stopping in front of it, you browsed through the different snacks and drinks. He stood next to you, arms crossed. 

"Humm… can you get me… the bag of chips? And… those chocolate bars?" 

"No." 

You frowned, staring at him. 

"Why not?" You asked. 

"Did you even have lunch?" He asked in a disapproving tone. 

"No. Someone decided to handcuff me before I could get lunch!" You complained. 

He kept staring at you. 

"Listen, I'm really hungry! Please…" you debated, stepping forwards. 

With the movement, one of your thigh socks slipped to your knee. You cursed, looking down at it. You looked around looking for anything to help you. You noticed chairs not too far and you started moving towards them. A strong hand grabbed your arm, making you sigh. 

"I'm just going to sit down!" You answered loudly. 

He walked you to the chair where you sat down. Honestly nothing changed. Your hands were still tied up behind your back. You were annoyed. You were hungry, unable to move and you couldn't place back your sock where it should be. You looked up at the man, expectedly. He tilted his head to the side in confusion. You leaned back, slowly moving your leg up, the tip of your shoe now touching his abs. He frowned. 

"What the fuck are you-?" 

"Pull it back up please. I can't do it." You answered monotonously. 

Another staring match,  but he didn't remove your foot. You almost felt him growl as his hands rose to pick your foot and drop it back to the ground slowly. You were ready to complain when he knelt down, putting your foot now on his thigh. His hands inched closer to the hem of the sock, just above your knee, gripping it before pulling it up. He let his fingers circle around the hem to make sure it was in place and secure. You wanted to scream. It had been a very long while since anyone touched you even remotely. 

His fingers made you shiver, your tights were clearly not a barrier that could keep away the feeling of his skin touching your tender flesh. He seemed to look at something on your thigh. 

"What..?" You asked. 

His head snapped up.

"What's wrong?" You asked again, looking at your thigh. 

It didn't take long to notice what he was looking at. The little chubbiness of your thigh because of the tightness of the hem. You looked at him, he looked at you. An awkward silence settled in between the two of you. Did he… like it? The only thing that broke the silence was the sound of footsteps, a man showing up in the corner of your eye. You both looked at the young man who simply stared. He stared. He stared at you, sitting, hands handcuffed behind your back, with this masked man in front of you, kneeling, hands on your thigh. 

You blushed. The situation could be misunderstood and right now you felt like this was too much. None of this was part of the contract. You opened your mouth but you didn't know what to say. 

"Keep walking." 

You looked back at the masked man. It had been an order. Menacing. But his voice had remained at a normal level, and a normal tone. Something else seemed to come from him that made people obey. A silent threat. He had turned his attention back to your sock like it didn't matter. To your dismay, the young man scurried off. You frowned. 

"What… what was that?" You asked. 

He stood up. 

"Let's go lunch. I'll call Price so he joins us." He said. 

You were still completely confused. What the hell was going on. Who was this man. 

"What's your name?" You asked. 

His head tilted again. He thought for a second. 

"Lieutenant Simon Ghost Riley." He introduced himself. 

You smiled. 

"Simon…" you repeated. 

"No. Lieutenant. Or ghost." 

You smirked. 

"Can you help me up please?" You asked. 

He did, spinning you around to take out the handcuffs. 

"So… you trust me?" You asked. 

"We're going to have to work together. I don't trust you. But I can be civil." 

You pouted, nodding your head. He was right. Didn't matter if he trusted you. You didn't trust him after all. 

"Alright. Fair enough. I'll follow you. I'm here for work anyway" you finally said. 

He turned around, walking away. You sighed, following him. 

They had a cafeteria. Huh. Well you didn't really think of how these people ate. It didn't matter anyway. Ghost, or Simon as you had decided to call him, just to annoy him, had made you sit down at a table telling you not to move. You decided to behave for now. You were on your phone, testing the security system of the base, trying to find useful information for the contract. Eventually you stumbled upon the file you will be working on. You started reading through it as a platter was set in front of you. A plate of mashed potatoes and meat, some bread, and a donut. A cup of water was placed next to it. 

You happily jumped in your chair, feeling your stomach grumble.

"Thank you Simon!" You said. 

"Lieutenant." He corrected, annoyed. 

You took a bite of your plate humming happily. He looked away, watching the room around him. It was late evening, not exactly time for dinner yet but soon soldiers would start rushing in. You choose to resume your reading. The file wasn't very interesting. Above all, you already knew what was in there. You felt slightly tricked. What evidence did they have that could be helpful? Noise made its way towards your table as you looked up. A group of men and… 

"Valeria" you called. 

She smiled brightly rushing to you with arms wide open. You rolled your eyes, standing to meet her embrace. 

"Muñeca, god you're beautiful as always!" She said with a big kiss to your cheek. 

"So.. this is tracker." 

You recognized the voice. You looked over at the man, beard and mustache, a hat that looked like a fishermen's. He had a warm smile. Silly warm smile. 

"Captain, right?" You asked. 

He nodded. 

"When did you get here?" The soft British accent from the phone. 

You looked over at the boy, cap over his head. 

"Hum… few hours ago." 

The group looked shocked, the captain frowned. 

"She stole my knife." Simon grumpily said. 

"I told you. Sharing is caring. You should be more aware of your surroundings anyway, or did the mohawk bore you with his rant about his explosives?" You threw back, eyes narrowing. 

"You were listening?! How?!  Where?!" The Scot rang loudly. 

You smirked. 

"I see you've already made yourself comfortable." The captain answered, slightly more weary now. 

"Well… not everyone takes contracts as seriously as I do. Would you walk into the lion's den without a plan or Intel?" You questioned. 

He seemed to think for a second. 

"Probably not. Found anything interesting?" He questioned. 

"A pretty knife! And grumpy Simon right here." You answered playfully. 

"Lieutenant ! And it's my knife" He corrected again. 

The team laughed a bit. 

"I see you've made friends already." Valeria teased. "How did you find him?" She asked. 

"Well… he found me." You answered with a little frown staring right into Simon's eyes. 

"Oh… that's unusual…" she said with a tone that sounded like she was trying to unravel an enigma. 

She tilted her head, looking at Simon before turning to you. 

"Is it your mask kink? Stared too long?" 

Your face fell. You remembered how much of a bitch she could be. 

"Go fuck yourself Valéria." You answered by pushing her away. 

"Oh come on, you were always down bad for mean bad guys." She kept teasing. 

You've had enough, two can Play that game. You turned to Alejandro, because of course that was Alejandro, she had said so much about him that you couldn't not recognize him. 

"Alejandro right? I've heard so much about you, she just wouldn't shut up. The boyfriend. How's things going with this bitch? Any wedding on sight?" 

Alejandro immediately frowned. Valeria tried to slap the back of your head but you dodged. She cursed you in Spanish as you stepped away, sitting back down. 

"So, you're friends?" The Scot asked with irony dripping. 

"No. She's a pain in the ass." You answered with a side glance to Valeria. 

You turned back to your plate, the rest of them taking place at the table with you. 

"So… you got a mask kink?" The Scot teased. 

You froze, looking at him. 

"You want to find out or you want to put on a mask and see how I act afterwards?" You teased back. 

He opened his mouth but didn't say anything. You smirked, shaking your head. 

Taking a deep breath you decided that it was time to talk about serious things. 

"I reviewed the file. There's nothing I don't know already in there. You said you had proof. I suppose you're gatekeeping it?" You said, looking at the captain as you took another bite. 

"We didn't send you the file." 

"Don't need to." 

"How about we start again? With names and greetings?" He answered with a smile. 

You sighed. Putting down your fork and leaning back on your chair like an annoyed teenager. 

"Alright. You're right." You agreed. 

"I'm captain John Price. You can call me Captain or Price." He introduced. 

"I'm Y/N. That's all you get sorry… you can call me tracker." You answered. 

"Well, I'm Operator Kyle Gaz Garrick. " The soft British accent grasped your attention. 

You smiled, turning to the Scot. 

"I'm John SOAP McTavish" he said. 

You frowned. 

"Soap? Your call name is soap?" You asked with a smirk. 

He smirked back, nodding. You rolled your eyes again. Your eyes fell back on the man in front of you, arms crossed, leaning back on his chair. 

"Go on. Introduce yourself." Price pushed. 

Silence remained as your staring match resumed. 

"She knows who I am." He answered. 

"Yes! Simon!" You happily claimed. 

"For fuck's sake." He cursed. 

Price laughed again, some full on bawling from Soap. Simon threw him a dangerous dark look. 

"Alright, are you both going to play nice with each other?" He asked a bit more seriously to the both of you. 

"I'm being nice!" You countered, offended. 

"You're a thief." Simon stated. 

"Let it go already! You're so hostile, you have it back no?" You answered back. 

"I'm hostile?" He asked in a darker tone. 

"Yes you are! Pouting over some knife! It's not even pretty anyway!" You lied. 

The more the conversation went, the more you both leaned forward. 

"You little stealing bitch." 

"You grumpy asshole!" 

"I do not care that you are a girl, i will knock your ass out." He threatened standing now. 

"Come get it then you Micheal Myers wannabe!" You answered standing up as well. 

"ENOUGH"

Your heads snapped towards Price. He slowly stood. 

"Both of you. Sit." 

The order made Valeria snicker, she was enjoying the show way too much. You decided to obey, crossing your arms and pouting. Simon did too, slower than you did. 

"You are both gonna have to learn to behave and cooperate." 

"Yeah. What's making you so angry?" She teased "te gusta el hombre?" She teased again. 

"Valeria. I will hit you." You warned. 

You looked away. 

"Since you both seem to like each other so much, Ghost. You'll be in charge of her." 

You froze. Looking at the man in question who looked absolutely furious. Shit…

"Captain.." he started. 

"No discussion. And if anything happens, you'll both be sanctioned." 

You opened your mouth, offended by this injustice but no sound came out as you quickly shut up under Price's warning gaze. You decided to avoid any eye contact with the masked man. A hand flew to your plate to grab a piece of food. You looked at Soap who grinned at you. You couldn't hold your own smile. Footsteps echoed again through the cafeteria, capturing everyone's attention. A woman walked to the table, her blond hair held at the back of her head. 

"Gentleman. Ladies." She greeted. "My name is Laswell. You were unexpected tracker." 

You smirked. 

"Yes, sorry. I don't like to announce my arrivals." You explained, eyeing Soap stealing from your plate again in the corner of your vision. 

"Well. You'll have to wait for us to prepare your room." She said. 

"It's alright. Kind have to go grocery shopping anyway." You said. 

"You want to leave the base?" Alejandro asked. 

"I have a contract with you. Am I a prisoner? Are you breaking the contract?" You asked in a frown. 

"We're not. Let's try to keep a minimum of trust." Laswell cleared. 

You nodded. 

"If it makes you feel better, my babysitter and the gremlin eating from my plate can go with me." The two men snapped their heads towards you as you made a show to ignore them. 

"I love going shopping with you." Valeria said. 

"You're not going anywhere," Alejandro growled. 

"Don't worry. She can come. I won't let her out of my sight and you can come by too, it'll be like a date." You teased. 

"Aww you won't help me escape?" Valeria asked. 

"Absolutely fucking not. The rule is don't get caught. You failed, deal with it." You scolded. 

Valeria scoffed, as you looked forwards towards Simon. 

"Alright. It settled. I guess it'll be like… a proof of each other's trust." Price announced with a smile. 

You nodded. Silence stood for a little second before they finally rose. Everyone took it as a sign that it was time to go. 

Walking through the aisles you tried to focus on the groceries you should buy. Unfortunately, the ADHD Scot as Valeria had called him, was enjoying the trip way too much, adding stuff to the cart for himself. Valeria was at the end of the aisle, Alejandro and Rudy very close to her. The most distracting thing might be the skull man wearing a hoodie with a military logo on it. He was clearly annoyed to be here. You had seen him get distracted by Alejandro fighting with Valeria and took the opportunity to bring Soap closer to you. 

"Do you know what skull-face likes? As snacks I mean." You asked. 

"Ohhh you want to buy him something?" The men grinned. 

"I'm trying to bury the hatchet. Should apologize…" The word almost burned your throat as you grumbled it. Of course you should apologize, you stole from him, but you had to raise yourself to be like this. You were sure he had done worse as well and never apologized.

It seemed to amuse the Scot though, who grabbed you by the hand to drag you out of the aisle to different ones. It made you smile as well. You tried to hide it, but his joy seemed to be contagious. Unfortunately, you were quickly tracked down by your babysitter. 

"What are you doing?" He asked, grabbing the Scot by the back of his shirt. 

"It's fine. We're just shopping. I'm still here. Didn't run away." You answered instead of the boy, attracting the full attention to you. He squinted his eyes as you decided to look away. 

"We're done anyway, right?" The Scot announced with a smile. 

You smiled too, nodding. 

"Fucking finally." Ghost groaned. 

You all walked towards the cashiers, waiting in line. Right in front of you was a tall man, sunglasses over his head, t-shirt on and shorts. He was huffing and puffing, clearly annoyed. The sound of a baby crying made you take a step to the left to see where it came from. You could see a woman, holding a baby, a toddler sitting in her kart. She tried to hurry, grabbing her groceries to drop them in the kart as fast as possible with her only free hand. So this was the reason for this man's mood. 

You frowned. The woman finished putting the groceries in her kart, the cashier giving her a gentle look before announcing the price. The woman fumbled to find her credit card under the grumbles of the man that you had affectionately renamed douchebag. A little pull on your shirt made you step closer to the line as you looked towards the culprit. Simon looked down at you, crossing his arms over his chest. You sent him a death look that he ignored. You turned back to the drama, now noticing the anxiety on the mother's face. You heard the cashier softly tell her that her card was declined. 

"Hey lady, move! There's people who want to shop here!" The man scolded. 

God his voice was just as horrible as his face. You started to feel a familiar anger rise in you. What made you flip was the glossy eyes of the woman. You pushed past the man, making sure to shove him in the process. The woman fearfully looked at you as you gave her your warmest smile. Turning to the cashier you grabbed your phone. 

"I'll pay." You said. 

The woman gasped, looking at you. 

"Fucking finally." You heard behind you. 

"Will you shut the fuck up?" You answered, turning to him. "You're a fucking waste of air and space. We're all made of stardust and I can't believe they stuck together to create the biggest douchebag on earth." 

You raised your phone to the machine, a little 'beep' confirming the transaction. The cashier smirked, handing the receipt to the woman. You grabbed it pointing to the pen next to the register that the boy gladly handed to you. You scribbled your phone number before handing it to the woman. 

"If you ever need help. Call this number." You said with a smile. 

"I… I'll pay you back-" 

"No.. don't worry about it really, I got plenty of money. If I can help others I don't mind." You added with a wink. "So don't hesitate to call." 

"Hey! Can you fucking move it bitch?" 

Your face fell, turning to the man behind you. 

"You little asshole. What's wrong? Tiny dick itching?" You spat. 

You barely registered the man raising his hand, pointing at your face and stepping forward because someone already grabbed him. A firm hand around his wrist, as a tall body stood in front of you. You blinked. 

".. lieutenant ?" You called. 

"I advise you to shut up. Finish your shopping. And learn some fucking manners." Simon growled in a low voice at the man. 

You stared at him. How could you not? His stance alone was frightening. The man tried to keep a facade but dropped his hand when Simon let go of his wrist, and remained silent. 

Simon's hand reached for you, trying to grab your wrist, but to his surprise you gave him your hand. He pulled back in line, behind the guy. 

"Do you often get into trouble?" Soap asked playfully. 

"More often than she'd like." Valeria answered with a smile. 

You looked down at your feet, avoiding eye contact with the big man next to you. 

"What about the, 'there's no justice in this world'?" Valeria teased. 

"If you'd listen to me more often and more carefully Valeria" you started, rolling your eyes "you'd know that i say that there's no justice in this world, not unless we serve it ourselves." 

You grabbed your phone, eyeing the man in front of you as he finished taking his groceries, sending you a dark look. You tapped a few things on your phone, Valeria eyeing it over your shoulder. The man frowned as the cashier told him that his card declined. Valeria laughed. The man tried to argue that his bank account was full. He tried again, various times before the cashier started to get frustrated. 

"Sir. Other people would like to shop." Soap joked behind you.

He visibly turned red before leaving all of his groceries right there and leaving the shop.

"Douchebag." You let out under your breath. 

Valeria laughed behind you as soap tapped your shoulder. You tried a little look at Simon who ingored you completely. The exhaustion started to weigh on you. You rang your things, paid, before heading towards the exit. The bag was taken from your hand, you watched as Simon looked down at you before walking with you to the car. If you had to be honest, you enjoyed his car. The mat black jeep was stunning. He dropped the groceries in the back seat as you stood watching the rest of the team exit the store. They had taken another car all together. 

"We'll go back to base, put this one back in her cell." Alejandro said, accent tainting his words. 

Simon nodded. 

"Well good night then." You said. 

"Good night tracker!" Soap said with a wink. 

You smiled watching them turn to their car and walk. 

"Let's go." You heard.

You sighed, heading for the passenger door. You were shocked to see him open the door for you to hop in. You thanked him in a whisper, as he closed the door behind you. 

The way back to the base was made in silence. It was awkward yet… calming. You felt yourself dozing off despite the reckless driving of the man. You even muttered something along the lines of 'did you get your license in a cereal box?' to which he answered 'I don't have a license'. The silence afterwards made you grow anxious but decided to leave it at that because that couldn't be true… right?

When the car came to a stop you had let your head against the window, eyes closed. 

"Hey…" 

This was the softest you had heard him speak. You remained still, curious if he'd keep speaking softly to you or simply lose patience. You also felt your body heavy from the long day, and even if you weren't as comfortable as you were in a hotel, the warmth of the car made you want to remain there. 

"Tracker…" same tone. 

You frowned, letting out a little moan. That wasn't on purpose. Your body was exhausted and you really had felt yourself fall asleep. 

"Y/N." 

Your heart skipped a beat. He called your name? You let your eyes fall open, blinking away the blurriness and adjusting to the light of the parking lot. You straightened yourself, looking around before looking at him. 

"We're here." He said, his tone less soft but not as cold as he was all day. 

You nodded, turning your gaze away and passing your hands through your hair. He opened his door and stepped out. The cold air made you shiver. Your door opened, a fresh breeze making you shiver. 

"Shit…" you cursed under your breath. 

He groaned. He let you step out as he walked to his trunk. You closed the door, opening the back one as the trunk closed, the sound echoing in the parking. He stepped towards you, handing you something. You looked at the black fabric, taking it in your hand. You realized it was a hooded sweatshirt jacket. His. You put it on, feeling yourself warm up a bit. 

"Thank you…" you let out again. 

He nodded, grabbing the grocery bags in one hand and closing the door with the other. You both walked closer to where the barracks were. You still didn't know where you'd be sleeping tonight but thankfully, Price and Laswell stood waiting for you at the building's entrance. 

"How was the shopping?" Price asked. 

You shrugged. Simon looked at you but had no reaction. 

"I see. Nice. Let's go up." He instructed. 

You started following behind the two superiors as you looked at Simon. 

"You don't have to hold my stuff.. do you-" 

"Leave it. I'll handle it. Walk." He answered, his cold tone back. You simply rolled your eyes. 

Climbing up the stairs you received a few looks from recruits on the different hallways and levels. The view of the lieutenant seemed to make them back off though. Once you reached the third level, a heavy door was pushed, then another one, leading into a hallway. 

"This level is solely for task force 141. It's a bit big for the squad so we also give the spare rooms to other temporary members like colonel Vargas." Laswell explained. 

You stayed silent, nodding occasionally. You kept moving forward, passing by several doors. Finally, entering a large room, a few couches and a TV and a kitchen area. 

"Hey!" Soap greeted from one of the couches. 

Him and Gaz jumped to help Simon with the bags, heading to the fridge with them. 

"I'll leave the rest to you." Laswell said, looking at the captain who shared a nod with her. 

She left, leaving you in the middle of the room. You looked around, Vargas and Rudy were on the couch. Another man, also wearing a mask, sat in a corner. You smiled, waving slowly. The man raised his hand before waving as well. He looked shy, so you thought best to let him come to you if he felt comfortable. You looked back at Price who eyed you with a glint of amusement in his eyes. 

"What's wrong?" You asked, the tiredness erasing every once of brattiness in your voice. 

"Nothing." He said, starting to walk back towards the hallway. "Nice jacket." 

You blinked, before looking down at said jacket and then at its owner. He looked pissed but didn't say anything, his gaze towards the boys next to the fridge. You followed his gaze to meet two boys who tried their best to keep their laughter in. You laughed a bit, gaining the three's attention. You shook your head before following Price. 

"Your room will be this one." He explained pointing at a door. "On your left is gaz and in front Ghost." 

You nodded. 

"Not very talkative?" He teased. 

"Honestly I'm tired… jetlagged." You answered with a smile. 

"Yes. The suitcases that mysteriously showed up at the gates tipped me off." He said with a smile. "What was your last destination?" 

"Hmm… London." 

"Oh really? You like it?" 

"Yes. So far one of my favorite places to go." You said with a smile. 

He nodded with a smile as well. He opened the door, inviting you in. You stepped inside the room. It was a basic room. A bed, a desk, a closet and a bathroom. 

"No shower?" 

"Showers are shared." 

Your eyes open wide. 

"Don't freak out. You'll be able to shower in peace. One of the guys will escort you and stay outside until you're done. We'll make sure it'll be out of hours of the recruit's time." He explained. 

You weren't exactly thrilled but you nodded. You just had to finish this contract and go back home. To your beautiful, spacious penthouse in Hightown, graciously offered by the high table after helping them with a risky contract. You looked at your suitcases at the door of the bed. 

"Any way I could shower now?" You asked. 

"No problem." He answered, head tilting towards the door. 

"I'll grab my stuff." You said. 

"Alright, I'll ask one of the boys to escort you." He said before exiting the room. 

You took a deep breath, looking at your suitcase. You really just wanted to shower and get to bed. Maybe eat a snack before. You decided to just get on with it, the faster you did the faster you could sleep. You opened the suitcase rummaging through to find some underwear and some joggings and tank top. You quickly realized you didn't have a towel or soap. You frowned. They very probably didn't have some in the showers, this wasn't exactly a four star hotel. You decided that you'd simply ask the boys for some. Probably the one who'd walk you to the showers. 

You stood, holding your clothes before stepping to the door and opening it, a tired expression on your face. You looked up, freezing on the spot. 

"Let's go." He ordered. 

Of course. Your babysitter. 

"W-wait! Sorry… hum.." you shook your head a bit, trying to focus under the man's cold gaze. "Can I ask you for a towel and some soap please?"

He stared at you for a second before sighing and opening the door to his dorm and walking in. You closed your door behind you, standing in the hallway. He quickly showed back up, holding a folded towel and a bottle of body wash. You thanked him before following him out. Again silence through the whole way. The cold air was making your body scream that a shower might and might not be the best thing. Finally reaching a building, the man swung the door open, beckoning you to walk in. 

The showers weren't comfortable. You were in a military base after all. You were glad to be alone because common showers seem to be embarrassing. You felt uncomfortable enough on your own. You hopped in the shower, feeling the water prickle at your skin. You sighed as the water relaxed your muscles. The bottle of shampoo body wash eyed you. The unknown brand brings up your curiosity. You chuckled to yourself. Picking it up to drag out a bit of it on your palm, you took a deep breath to inhale the scent. God. What was it? Damn… it wasn't strong, but it was… manly? God it smelled good. You surprised yourself as you hummed, washing your body with the soap. 

As you were bubbling up yourself, drowning in the smell that your brain was slowly associating with the masked man outside much to your dismay, a glance to the side made you jolt. There on the wall, a black centipede seemed to nag you. You retracted your hands to your body, taking a deep breath. You could just… kill it? Throw water at it and… it moved. IT MOVED. TOWARDS YOU. 

You yelped, the sound echoing in the shower room before your fight or flight instinct kicked in. Barely grabbing the towel, shoving it around you in a haste you ran out the door, skin still full of white foamy bubbles. Slamming into the lieutenant, wetting his tactical shirt in the process. 

"What the-?!" 

He looked down, your body barely hidden by the black towel. His eyes opened wide. His pupils blown. His eyes picked up on the shiver that ran through you as the cold air hit your wet skin. He threw a quick glance around after noticing the way your towel revealed your back and legs, probably barely hiding your ass, because clearly in the front, it'd take a simple-

"What." He hissed. 

You were going to say something when he picked you up, throwing over his shoulder as you yelped. He rushed back inside the showers as you felt your skin crawl at the idea of the bug inside. 

"No no no! There's a HUGE BUG." You tried. 

He was already inside dropping you to the ground, his chest rising quickly as he looked at you. He was infuriated, shocked but also… something else. 

"A fucking bug? Really?" He growled. 

You looked up at him, frowning, anger rushing through you. 

"Yes! A bug! It's disgusting! And I'm naked!" You added, voice rising. 

"I noticed! You better hope no one else did!" He scolded again. 

"Why would you fucking care anyway?" You spat. 

"These men haven't seen a woman naked in a long while, getting their attention is like attracting moths with a flame." He hissed. 

"Oh shut up! No one saw me!" You rolled your eyes. 

With the action your eyes fell on something on the ground. The bug. The centipede. Crawling on the ground. You didn't stop to think for a second, jumping on the man in front of you as he immediately caught you, your legs wrapping around his waist. In the process the towel had fallen to the floor. 

"Jesus fucking-" he cursed, his large hands squeezing at the back of your thighs to hold you in a better grip. 

"What in the world is going on-" 

Your head snapped right towards the entrance, but before you could see anything, Ghost spun around, his back facing the door, your body shielded from view. Your eyes widened as they fell on the Captain's shocked ones. The situation was too much for the curse to not escape your lips, in a low whisper, near the ear of the lieutenant, as he tensed up under you.

"Shit…" 

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tags: @thychuvaluswife @emily-roberts @warrior-of-justice @gh0stedddd @ladyelissarose

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

Little less than super, soldier

Part two because I like to split bits up

Previous / Next

Summary: You have to play the part while in Madripoor despite your discomfort with your situation. Zemo finds out a little more about Sam's companion.

Zemo X OC (but written an reader insert in-case you wanna play in the space. backstory linked in part one ✌)

Also forgot to mention but I've been substituting Sokovian for German, translation will be provided.

Warnings: Violence, eye trauma,

scheisse - fuck

Schatz - treasure (a pet name)

First stop was a fancy little boutique outside the city an old friend of Zemo's owned. If this was going to work you'd all have to dress the part. The dark wood and smokey smell was pleasant but your nerves were still fried from trying to keep peace on the plane.

You'd taken to allowing Zemo to try press you for information once he'd gotten bored of Sam and Bucky.

"So where'd you learn Sokovian?" he'd queried, leaning forward into your space.

"In Sokovia." You replied, narrowing eyes at his closer form.

"And you know Bucky and Sam from...?" He continued forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"The US." You answered, shifting lower in your seat. A bitter rush of anger flooded you again. You slouched even lower, kicking a foot up onto his arm rest. If he was going to invade your space like that you'd just give it right back. He didn't move only staring harder at you with a slight smile.

"Leave them be." Bucky warned, Zemo chuckling tipping back into his chair. You let your foot drop now, returning to your personal space.

"I'm only making conversation Sam" his voice was like velvet, feigning innocence. Out the corner of your eyes you saw his head tilt to you again but you were distracted looking out the window. The man in front briefly forgotten as you peered excitedly at the passing land bellow.

Now you were avoiding his eyes again, poking around the fancy clothing while trying to avoid Bucky too. After he'd stepped out in the soldier gear you'd had to take a turn about the room. It was distressing even with his new haircut. Too much like old memories.

"Okay so he's all set but what about us huh?" Sam questioned, eyebrow quirking at Zemo in his fancy coat.

"Ah well I have someone in mind for you, as for your charming companion..." His eyes drifted back to you. "They might have a little harder time passing as anyone."

"Y/n." You said finally willing yourself to speak more than a couple words to the guy. "And I'm not exactly new to this." You leaned round gowns, hoping that your forced confidence would work.

Sam disappeared behind the curtain with the shop keep, returning shortly after. He sulked out of a changing room in an amazing suit. You forgot yourself a moment hands hiding a wide grin stretching across your face.

"Don't Y/n... I look like a pimp." Sam frowned at you making you bark out a laugh. He shot Bucky a warning glance, as he just smiled at his friend.

"Only an American would assume a fashion forward black man looks like a pimp." Zemo rolled his eyes, glancing back to yourself. You dropped your smile, crossing the room to Sam.

You weren't keen on letting Zemo be alone with either of them in this city. So you'd have to go too. Which meant crowds and someone touching you. Steeling yourself mentally you slipped an arm in Sam's.

"So if I'm hard to place, surely I can be someones date?" You queried. Sam straightened, he'd have to work on that if you would pass as a couple.

"Ah unfortunately not Smiling Tiger here." He stepped between you both causing you to shift away to avoid him. "He's pretty known for his devotion to his partner." Zemo smirked down at you, a hand on Sam's shoulder.

You sensed a challenge in the air, forcing a smile back to your face. "And I suppose it's too much to expect your soldier to have one." You purred stepping in closer to him, letting a hand rest on his chest. It almost sickened you how quickly you could slip into the act.

You caught the way he froze a second, must not have expected that from you. Still he caught himself quickly, looking unimpressed. Your anger flared at him. He was belittling you? Maybe it was better he underestimated you but your pride was wounded.

"Y/n." Sam spoke softly. You let your gaze shift to him but remained in proximity to Zemo. Sam stared at you for a second till he confirmed your resolve. He rolled his eyes, sighing.

"You got something for them to wear then?" He asked, rubbing his brow.

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Zemo mind kept getting stuck on Sam and Bucky's companion. He'd had Oeznik look into you but he'd come up with nothing so far, though he'd be in contact with any news. Still there was a niggling feeling in his mind. Some kind of recognition he couldn't place.

You weren't Sokovian, your accent proved that much but you'd spent time there? Enough to have strong feelings on the matter. Maybe enough to share some sympathy? Get you more to his side, drive a wedge between you and them.

Then there was the way you tensed when James had stepped out in his winter soldier clothing. It wasn't subtle the way you practically jumped away to stare at a blank wall. So there was a history there? To think of it you'd stepped up when Barnes had threatened him too.

You didn't entirely trust him. So you were the weakest link in this team. If he wanted break the chain I'd be easiest to play you against Barnes.

Still your willingness to come here for Sam could pose some problems. Though even in that relationship you seemed closed off? Maybe a softer touch with you could work and a wedge to block Sam out. For now that's all he could use on you.

Helmut sat with these thoughts while he waited for the shop keep to finish with you. If he played this smart he could even get an ally in you. After all you'd come to his defense once before and it'd been amusing watching your reactions to him. How hard could it be to make you distrust James some more. He missed the curtain pulling only realizing you'd finished when he heard Sam.

"Wow Y/n you look...." Sam had began.

"Ridiculous, yes?" You quipped. Helmut heard heels clack as you approached, lifting his gaze to appraise the change. His jaw dropped, you were stunning. Sure he'd noticed your pleasant features before but you'd had a sort of disheveled look to you. Only sparkling in the little moments of wonder he'd witnessed on the plane. Now you shone, filling out the tight clothing just right.

"So this work?" You cocked a brow at him. Zemo tore his eyes from the maroon fabric matching his jumper. You looked like incredible and you looked like his, Selby might actually buy this.

"If you can act the part." He hummed, tilting his head. He slipped out of his chair and circled you. Your shoulders only tensed subtly when he took your hand, placing a bracelet around your wrist.

"Oh I can act the part, can you?" You challenged, jaw clenching and sliding in beside him. You linked an arm in his, resting a cheek against his bicep. He stifled a reaction to your sudden closeness. Cursing himself at loosing the upper hand again. You merely looked up at him through lashes and suddenly his nerves were alive.

"Don't think that'll be a problem." He smirked down at you. Your eyes widened slightly before your gaze shifted to Sam. Zemo preened at the flush rising to your cheeks. It was amusing watching you squirm but he really should try being kinder if he wanted your trust.

"Yeah maybe just don't talk." Sam grumbled though Zemo was miles away again.

All the way from the shop, to the escorted car, then to the club you kept up your part. Body pressing against his arm so close he could feel your heat through his coat. It'd been so long since he'd had someone close like this and he didn't realize how much he'd been missing it. Or any contact really.

He tried not to dwell on the exposed skin or the softer look you'd given him when he'd offered you a hand out the car. Nor the way the way he found himself wanting to pull you closer. To hide you away from the prying eyes around them.

Part of him wished he'd worn a thinner coat or skipped the gloves. To have been able to enjoy this moment unfettered. Though he couldn't allow his guard down now. He had a plan and you were a nuisance at best.

Zemo he relayed the plan to Sam, Barnes and yourself, keeping up an indifferent attitude. It was a simple plan but it should get him and Sam in front of Selby. Honestly if you entered the club alone looking like this, you'd probably get a private meeting with her in seconds. Though he doubted Sam would let that plan go ahead.

The Brass Monkey Saloon was busy this night, though they got in alright with the expensive look about the group. Even the leather he had James wear was designer.

Zemo led the group to the bar, dropping the title of winter soldier as they passed by groups. He kept a hand on your lower back as he led you through the crowd. With the low cut of the garment he could feel a slight shiver even through his gloves.

It was certainly a lot warmer inside. You were nervous. You showed no other sign of it but with that realization your actions were making more sense. You weren't just playing the part, you were clinging to him! Zemo pulled a seat out allowing you to sit as he stood close to your side. He kept his arm securely around your waist as he shot a look to a patron beside you.

He started talking business, enjoying the way Sam paled at the snake guts shot before a gruff looking guy appeared over your shoulder. He placed a hand on you and Zemo held back venom.

"Word from on high, your not welcome here. They can stay." The man commanded, his hand moving from your shoulder down your arm as his eyes traced your form. Zemo caught your eye for just a moment, the discomfort only flickered a second before he was giving the order.

James was on the man in a flash, wrenching him off you in a swift motion. You flinched back slightly into Zemo, your back remaining against his chest as Bucky beat the man down. Helmut tried to convince himself it was part of the act but truthfully he didn't like seeing you distressed like that. It wasn't like the way you flustered before. There was real fear behind your eyes and he couldn't stand it.

Another man approached from your side and Zemo pulled you closer to him, shoving the man back towards his soldier. He could feel your hand against his abdomen shake as your fear grew at the sight of James in action. He was right, you were afraid of the man. Why was a question for later, for now this was working in his favour.

Zemo quipped a comment about him to Sam too for good measure before guns were drawn. You seemed to snap out of your state, standing more firmly away from him and closer to Sam. He snaked his arm around your shoulders, before telling Bucky to stand down. It was strange to watch what frightened you. It would seemed you couldn't care less about the guns. Your wide eyes were still caught on Barnes.

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You could still feel the quake in your fingers. Some last trace of adrenaline coursing there. Still you strutted by Zemo's side, a cold leather clad hand on your exposed back.

It shouldn't feel as comforting as it did but you couldn't think about that now. You were deeper in the lions den now and you had to stay focused. There would be time to wallow in your pathetic thoughts later.

Selby wasn't quite what you'd expected, still she had that sense of power that came with territory. She was just chipper in a way that felt like she was talking down to everyone. Zemo made his way to sit in front of her, leading you closer to danger.

It was a ploy you soon realized as you watched her speak to him whilst her eyes traced up your legs. It disgusted you to use old tricks again but you couldn't hate their effect. Anything to keep the eyes off Sam for now. You sat on Zemo's armrest, his hand reaching to touch your thigh where Selby's eyes were.

Her gaze flicked back to him as she continued. You took the opportunity to look around the room as she spoke with Zemo and Sam. There were four armed guards around the room, blocking exits and keeping everything in sight.

You didn't like Sam being so far away, if things kicked off it'd be hard to take the hit from your position. Moving wouldn't be an option, you were supposed to be an obedient little ornament right now.

So you stayed seated as Zemo got up to show off his winter soldier, watching as Selby's attention drifted away from you to Bucky. You didn't like the predatory smile she wore looking at him. It'd been better when her focus was on you, at least Bucky hadn't looked so uncomfortable then. Though the act was good, too good. The stillness he'd adopted was still sending your heart thundering against its cage again.

Zemo returned to his seat, hand on your leg again, as you tried to maintain an almost bored smile. You found yourself calming somewhat before, though the realization was distressing in itself. Maybe it was the contact alone? You really hadn't been this near another person in some time. Not for any length of time anyway.

You tried to focus in on the conversation again, letting your eyes rest on Selby. The serum was here but she wasn't just going to tell you where it was, no matter how you rubbed your legs together.

"Your friend isn't distracting enough Baron, the bread crumbs are free but the bakery 'll cost you..." She began before a buzz from Smiling Tiger caught everyone's attention.

You stiffened as Sam was forced to take his call. Zemo's hand shifted on your thigh, squeezing it slightly. You looked down as he gently shook his head. He knew you wanted to go to him but he was right, you had to try maintain the cover.

"Sam?"

Oh shit. Before you could react Selby was shot and on the floor. The next second you were up and in front of Zemo. He grabbed your waist moving you away to attack one of the guards. Bucky and Sam had the other two it seemed. Leaving you the one setting his aim at Sam.

You tackled him, knocking him to the floor. You straddled him briefly before a boot slammed into him head. Zemo held a hand out to you, an incredulous smile on his tilted head. You took his hand, letting him pull you up. Though you let it go the second you stood, straightening your clothes.

Sam and Bucky regrouped, sure that this hit would be blamed on your group. Zemo tossed a gun taken off the guard aside, instructing Sam and Bucky to do the same.

"Follow my lead" Zemo almost whispered over your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine but it didn't feel like fear. As confidently as you could you all walked out of the bar, Zemo's hand in your own. You rubbed a thumb on the smooth leather, trying to relax yourself as you walked into the street. You focused on the imperfections, the seam under your thumb as your breathing eased.

Each quick step matched the hard thump of your heart. Phones went off all around you as the bounty must have been set. A cacophony of tones, buzzes and lights illuminating wicked grins. You kept pace with Zemo's stride praying you'd slip away before anyone made a move.

The prayers were dashed at the first gun shot. In a moment the night was alive with muzzle flash and gunfire. Zemo tugged you sharply along with him as he darted into an alleyway. Your heals splashed as he half dragged you after him.

"Wait! Sam and Bucky went that way." You yelled as you tried not to fall in your fancy shoes. Zemo didn't respond instead leading you through a winding path. He took a sharp corner suddenly spinning you against the wall.

It felt like the air had be knocked out of you as Zemo caged you in His long coat obscured you as you heard more footsteps splash past you both. Legs felt shaky as your heart remained thunderous. You stared up at his pale face, bathed in neons of the city, his dark eyes still watching for a movement. He paused looking back down at your wide eyed expression.

You were so close, his breath hot and fanning over your features. You could smell his expensive cologne, something smokey. The heaving in your breast settled bit by bit as you kept your eyes locked on his deep brown ones. He didn't back off a lazy smirk drifting onto his face.

For a second your eyes darted down to his lips before a pain shot through you. You doubled over, Zemo catching you before you fell. A growing heat blossomed out from the bullet wound you'd failed to register. The red stain seeped out further against the purple fabric.

"Oh, I actually quite liked this outfit." You joked, hand coming away shaky and red. It hadn't shot straight through, embedding somewhere in your gut.

Zemo's hand immediately came to cover the wound, applying pressure as he slung your arm over his shoulders. You let him half carry you out to where Sam and Bucky were, not caring much for whatever they were talking about.

No matter how many times you'd been shot, it never got easier. Without the adrenaline the pain was excruciating, almost blinding in it's intensity. With that and the groggy feeling blood loss gave you, you had no real reaction when Sharon turned up.

The talk was short, but soon you were in a car. Bucky hovered close, your head in Sam's lap as he tried to explain the situation to Sharon.

"Are you joking your friend is going to die!" Zemo protested against your slurred response, staring back from the front seat.

"Relax, she'll be fine let me just..." Bucky started before digging a digit into the wound. You screeched at the sudden rush of pain writhing as more shouting surrounded you. Then you went limp. There was the itching sensation of your skin reforming and silence in the car.

"What the hell..." Zemo began, eyes glued to the sight of your wound stitching itself back up. His eyes shot up to yours, somewhere between disbelief and something else.

"Guess you could say they've an invested reason to want the serum gone." Bucky spoke for you as you groaned sitting up and off of Sam. It was still painful, the internal still reworking itself but in a few minutes even the ache would be gone. You tried not to show how rough you felt. While the wound wasn't huge here was a lot of your blood soaking Sam and yourself.

You said no more until you were back at Sharon's. Still feeling too weak for the first few minutes and then ashamed by Zemo's silence. You showered and redressed in another fancy outfit at Sharon's. She had a party tonight and you'd all need to attend.

She'd almost given you an out when Bucky had said you were fine now. You cringed inside as you felt Zemo's eyes burning into you. Of course he'd hate you now and god knows what that meant for you going forward.

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

Zemo watched you over his whisky. Sam, Bucky and Sharon seemed involved in a conversation he was not invited into. Seeing that he watched you pause, shifting awkwardly by the bar cart. His heart still pounded looking at you. Despite everything you were a vision, another less revealing outfit still accentuating your body.

His curiosity was peaked, far more than any anger at this having been kept a secret from him. Made sense they didn't share that detail with him of all people, still he'd like to know your intentions.

He caught your eye, raising his glass. You seemed to hesitate a moment longer before joining him. The whole walk over took seconds but in those moments Helmut realized where he recognized you from.

Something in the more timid expression brought to mind a photo he'd seen in Hydra's files. He'd have to get it soon, until then he'd keep you close. Figure out where you stood in all this.

You sat across from him, toying with bracelet from your previous outfit. Helmut thought to break the silence before you suddenly looked up.

"I didn't ask for this." You stated, meeting his gaze, brows knit. Zemo kept his face passive.

"Never said you did." He responded, coy smile returning.

"Good." you nodded, leaning back in your chair.

"Good." He stated. There others he'd found out about always had. The HYDRA soldiers, the flagsmashers and even Steve Rogers all chose it. Though you wouldn't be the first to have the choice taken from you. Perhaps that's where Bucky fit in for you.

"Do I have to worry about more of you?" He probed. If they'd experimented with yourself there was no reason they wouldn't have tried to make more.

"No... it's just me now." You continued, eyes casting down. They looked glassy in the low light, he'd struck a nerve there.

"I... it's not like with Steve or even Bucky okay. It's the healing, that's all." Zemo watched you squirm. Clearly you were fighting two needs here, your secrecy and a need to explain yourself to him. He hummed considering you for a moment. That's all? As if what you did wasn't incredible?

It confused him slightly why you were struggling so much to try explain yourself. Sure it could just be self preservation, he was most known for his hatred of the Avengers. Though with friends like Sam why you'd need to ingratiate yourself to him was odd. Unless you weren't with their team.

You'd need a clear out too when this was over and the less anyone had on you the better. So you'd risked yourself to come help Sam deal with this super soldier problem.

"Does that mean you can drink?" He smiled pouring you a glass.

"Yeah I can drink." You answered, taking the glass from his hand and returning his smile. He let his fingers graze against yours and watched for your reaction. There wasn't one he could see, so hopefully you were more comfortable with him now.

He'd gotten a message off moments earlier with the phone still hidden in his jacket. He'd have your file soon enough. Until then he could trust you weren't going to get in the way of his mission and clinked his glass to yours.

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

Zemo couldn't lie to himself, he was enjoying your company greatly. Having cracked your shell a little he managed to get you talking about your time in Sokovia. You were light on details that brought you there but were delighted to reminisce on the city.

After heading out to Sharon's party he found himself glued to your side. Especially after Sam and Bucky left. Though it would seem they'd asked you to keep an eye on him as you followed him even onto the dance floor.

It was clear you hadn't had much opportunity to dance before but he couldn't judge, he was rather rusty himself. It was amusing to watch you twirling in this space. Despite an initial discomfort you were all open smiles and singing to yourself now. Clearly whatever happened before now had deprived you of lives many joys.

You spun and swayed for a time before the crowd in the area seemed to get too close. Zemo ushered you to follow him to another room, using an arm to block others from you.

Sam and Barnes where still no where to be seen. Though he had no plans of escaping until this serum problem was gone. Which meant he was free to enjoy your rather charming company in peace without their interruption.

The genuine dazzle returned to your eyes, the same one that made him pause his questioning on the plane. You stared up at a painting, a classic piece, oil and stretching across the entire wall of this room. Helmut smiled, stepping beside you again to tell you about it. You listened eagerly before turning your attention to the other art expectantly.

Zemo couldn't be sure he had an ally in you yet but it was pleasant none the less. He liked having you enjoy his company like this. Now all he needed to do was drive a wedge between you and the others and that file should help.

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The morning came and you were off with Sharon to the ship yard. As always your ability to heal didn't seem to extend past poison not killing you. Your head pounded in the morning light.

You'd awoken feeling guilty about last night. Sam had asked you to keep an eye on Zemo and you suppose you did. Only your sure he didn't mean follow him onto the dance floor and drink with him. Still it wasn't like anything happened. You just didn't like the look Sam gave you before heading to bed.

"You should stay with Sharon." Bucky said. "Keep an eye out with her." You nodded a response, following after her. He and Sam both knew how you felt about the serum. You weren't exactly going to be easy on this guy. Probably best you didn't meet him face to face.

You followed after Sharon, her signaling you to go left while you kept a eye out around the containers. It was only a couple of minutes before the samey look got you lost. You cursed, wishing you'd taken note of the numbers on them or something.

There wasn't time to worry about that, gun shots echoed through the containers and you were sprinting towards the source. You rounded the corners at speed, coming to the container you'd split from Karen from. She was worse for wear, bruised but not hurt near a badly as the bodies behind her.

"God you're so cool." You smiled, her returning a pained one before you both rushed to get the boys. The chaos hadn't finished though, as you entered the lab Zemo shot the scientist.

Sam yelled out, him and Sharon rushing to un-arm him but it was done. You peered over the mans body but there was no helping him. Though you don't think you'd have found it in yourself to do so. There was no time to think anymore on the mater, the lab behind you exploded and you were sent hurtling back towards the others.

Your ears rang you could smell smoke billowing around as you tried to regain your bearings. You'd clipped an arm on something as you shot past, the bones bending out at odd angles. Still you struggled painfully to your feet, trying hard to ignore the biting pain as your arm snapped back into place.

You stumbled, crying out and trying to force your eyes to work but sharp pain scratched as you tried to blink. Glass... there was definitely glass in your eyes. God you shouldn't have turned to look at the explosion. You felt a strong hand grab your shoulder, pulling you back down the stairs to the shipyard.

"Sam?" You questioned, light filling your vision but not clearing it yet. You were stumbling after him, still blind but you felt a piece of glass fall to the ground.

"Not quiet." Zemo's voice lilted out before another explosion sounded off. You went to scream, to call out for the others but a gloved hand covered your mouth and you were pulled back against him.

You struggled a moment, thinking of biting his hand to let you go but stilled. With some sight returning you could see dark shapes passing by you. He didn't let go till they were round another corner and you stepped away.

"Let me see..." His hands returned to your face, you pulled away for a moment but relented as his grip remained firm. "scheisse, there's quite a big... should I remove it." You hissed, adrenaline gone and leaving you in a lot more pain than you'd expected.

"Please," you all but whimpered, gritting your teeth when you felt him tug. He was kind at least, one sharp tug and it was out. You bit your cheek, whining as your hand came up to stem the leaking blood.

"Stay back." He commanded, gripping your shoulders a moment before disappearing from your returning sight. God you hated eye stuff, eye stuff was so gross.

You slumped against the metal a moment before hearing Sam and Bucky's voices between gun shots. Without another thought you tried to follow pausing back from an approaching group.

Above them you saw Zemo, calmly he walked atop the containers before firing at a gas pipe. In a fireball the majority of the threat was gone, leaving only a few stragglers shooting blindly.

You watched him leap down, picking off the bounty hunters quickly. You shouldn't have been surprised, you knew his background but still it was impressive to watch.

Bucky and Sam were no where to be seen. You paused uncertain what to do at this point. If they were taking fire somewhere you should be with them. You searched around before you heard a shout.

"Schatz!" Zemo called over the fire, motioning you to follow. You sent a last glace around before you ran after him. Sam and Sharon had to be around here soon and you really should keep an eye on him right?

Zemo paused ahead of you at an open container. You followed, slowing your pace as you neared him. He shot you a grin before stepping inside, slowing you rounded the door to see a very fancy car. Zemo already at the open passengers door. He gave a wave of his arm.

"After you, schatz." He smirked and you rolled your eyes at the pet name. Still couldn't help but laugh as he tore out at speed. The wind was whipping against your face as he sped through the ship yard. You weren't sure you remembered ever sitting up front in a car before. Definitely never one with an open top, it was exhilarating.

He skidded round a corner, stopping sharply in front of Sam and the others. You grinned, feeling a little dazed from the passengers seat. Bucky awkwardly climbed into the back, Sam approaching round the corner with a harsh glare directed at Zemo.

Sheepishly you rose, climbing into the back as Sam took the seat up front. He tore his gaze from Zemo, turning a kinder look to you before shifting to Sharon outside the car.

"Your not coming?" You asked her, turning your face a little to wipe the viscera from it on your sleeve.

"I can't..." She turned to Sam "Just keep that deal alright." Then she was gone and you were speeding off again.

[mads-weasley]

Legacy Pt. 8: Confessions

tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME GUYS! This was my first year of college and it has been HECTIC, so thank you for putting up with my super late updates!

Summary: At Zemo's safe house, some uninvited guests lead to (y/n) and Bucky revealing something they've been holding in for years.

Warnings: mentions of injuries, fighting, and pretty heavy angst with fluff at the end :)

a/n: this gif is so hot🫠

Walking through the streets of Riga, Latvia, (y/n) couldn't help but feel sorry for Zemo as he spoke of the fate of his homeland.

"I heard what became of Sokovia. Cannibalized by its neighbors before the land was even cleared of rubble. Erased from the map. I don't suppose any of you bothered visiting the memorial."

She glanced at Bucky and saw his eyes glued to the ground.

"Of course not," he stated softly. "Why would you?"

Silence filled the air as the group rounded a corner.

The Sokovian held his hands out, "We are here."

Before (y/n) could make her way into the house, Bucky's voice cut through the silence as he started to walk away.

"I'm gonna go on a walk."

Normally (y/n) would offer to go with him, but all she could think about was what had happened in Madripoor.

Surprised at her silence, Sam piped up. "You good?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "See you guys in a bit."

Watching as he rounded the corner out of sight, she turned to Sam.

"What was that?" She asked.

He simply raised his shoulders. "I have no idea, (y/n). He'll be okay, though."

Zemo opened the door for the trio as they walked into the building. "He is a supersoldier, so I doubt the-"

"Please shut up." Sam interrupted, closing the door behind them.

Looking around the large house, (y/n) wondered how all the extravagant properties they'd stayed in came to be in his possession. All thoughts were erased from her mind when she saw a large bathtub through open doors on her right. A hot bath sounded amazing, especially to her throbbing muscles.

"I'm gonna be in here for a while if anyone needs me," she absentmindedly announced, her eyes on the tub.

After closing the doors, she turned on the faucet to her desired temperature before turning to the mirror. It was the first time she had seen herself in days, and man, did she look half dead. Light green bruises littered her cheek and jaw, and dark bags seemed permanently drooped under her eyes.

Careful of her injuries, she slipped out of the t-shirt and sweatpants she was wearing, to be met with the sight of a few more bruises along her torso. They were dark purple, one even being the perfect shape of a boot.

(Y/n) felt the water with her castless hand, sighing in relief at the wonderful feeling. She was dirty, sweaty, and hurting, so when she lowered herself into the bath, it felt as if she was in heaven. To her frustration, she had to keep her broken hand out of the water due to the cast, but it was perfectly fine once the heat seeped into her bones.

After soaking in the tub for a while, (y/n) washed her face and dried off, grabbing a soft robe on a hook and tying it around her waist. Fixing it to cover everything, she walked into the living room.

The first thing (y/n) heard was Zemo's accented voice from the kitchen. "Your TT would be proud of you."

Her brows furrowed at the statement as she leaned against the counter. "What conversation did I just walk into?"

When she glanced over at Bucky, he had an unreadable look on his face, but his blue eyes floated up and down her body. With a smirk, she winked at the man, letting out a laugh at the blush that crept up his neck.

"Turkish delight?" Zemo offered, throwing one over to her. "Irresistible."

Popping it into her mouth, her eyes closed at the sweet flavor. "This is amazing. Can I have another one?"

He threw her another one, and she made her way over to Bucky, who was sitting on the couch.

"Here, have one."

(Y/n) plopped down next to Bucky, holding the candy out in her hand.

"What did I miss?" She asked, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Nothing much."

"Well, I wouldn't say that, Barnes," Zemo scoffed. "The Wakandans are here for me."

The woman's eyes shot to Bucky. "What?"

Groaning, he cut his eyes over at the Baron. "Ayo is here. She gave us eight hours."

(Y/n) stood abruptly with an angry sigh. "This is what I'm talking about, Buck! You've got to tell me this stuff."

"I know, I know," he muttered, getting up as well. "Look, doll, I kn-"

She turned and walked away towards her room, cutting him off. "No. Do whatever you want, Barnes."

He immediately trailed her, just catching up when she reached the threshold. "(Y/n), come on. Don't-"

With a slam, the door was shut in his face. Bucky stood there for a second with his hands on his hips, trying to process what had happened. She called him 'Barnes,' and she never called him Barnes. Only Bucky, Bucky, or James. Never Barnes.

He wanted to punch himself for doing the opposite of what he told her he would. See, he had a habit of keeping things from the people he loved to protect them, even if he knew they could take care of themselves. He was thankful when Sam's voice broke him from his thoughts.

"Just leave her be, man. She's still hurting, and whatever you've been doing is making it worse."

The young woman listened to the conversation through the door that she slid down after she slammed it in Bucky's face. She tried to hold in her tears, but they slowly trickled down her cheeks. She really shouldn't have been crying over their fight, but it just happened to be the last thing to tip her over the edge.

After a few minutes, she changed into a sleep shirt and spandex shorts and moved to her bed, relishing the feeling of its soft sheets on her battered and bruised body. It wasn't too long before her eyes gently closed, and sleep welcomed her.

Two gentle knocks woke her from her slumber. "(Y/n)? You okay in there?"

It was Sam.

"Yea'," she croaked, voice laced with sleep. "I'm alive."

(Y/n) smiled when a soft chuckle sounded through the door.

"I'm glad to hear that. Um, listen. We've got a lead on Madani's funeral. You wanna come?"

She flipped on the lamp beside her, wincing at the sharp pain it caused. Her crying session must have aggravated her concussion, giving her another horrid headache. She quickly turned it off, holding her head in her hands.

"Uh, do you think you two, or three, can handle it? My head is killing me."

She heard loud footsteps followed by a voice she knew all too well.

"Do you need anything? Pain meds?"

Even though her heart warmed at his concern, she pushed the feeling down inside her, hardening her voice.

"Sam. Could you get me something for my head?"

Outside the door, Sam looked at Bucky with a pitying gaze. "Yeah, I'll get it."

As the pair walked away, Bucky lowered his head. "She hates me."

"She does not," Sam scoffed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "She just needs time."

He delivered the meds to her with a glass of water. "Call us if you need anything, alright?"

(Y/n) nodded. "Same to you. I'm not out of commission."

She spied Bucky leaning against the doorway of the room, concern written all over his face, as Sam walked out. He offered one last smile before closing the door gently behind him.

After taking the pills, she fell back under her covers with a huff, letting sleep take her again.

(Y/n) woke up with a start when a loud slam echoed throughout the large house. Taking a few seconds to get her bearings, she blearily made her way to the door and opened it, slowly stepping out.

The second she saw who was in the room, (y/n) wished she would've stayed in bed. All eyes flew to her, but she could specifically feel his disgusting gaze on her. Suddenly, she felt so bare as she realized what she was wearing, and how much of her legs were exposed.

"Well, well, well," Walker cooed with a smirk. "I wondered where you disappeared to. I missed seeing yo-"

"Shut up," Bucky growled, moving in front of (y/n) to block his view. She instinctively clutched the back of his shirt as John's eyes roamed over her still-visible body.

"John," Lemar called, breaking him from his trance. His focus shifted to Sam, who was a few feet in front of him.

"How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, Sam, huh?"

(Y/n) realized she must have missed part of their interaction.

Her blood only boiled when he continued. "Should I put down the shield? Make it fair?"

Moving from behind Bucky, she pointed at him. "You should've never gotten that shield in the first place. You have no right to it, Walker."

Just as he opened his mouth to respond, a spear came flying through the air, embedding into the pillar directly beside him.

'So close,' (y/n) thought to herself.

Looking to their right, she groaned when she was a Dora Milaje, knowing a fight will soon follow. Ayo spoke in Wakandan to Bucky before switching to English.

"Release him to us now."

(Y/n) zoned out as Walked tried to introduce himself, mentally preparing herself for whatever came next. When she saw him reach out for Ayo's shoulder, she knew it was about to start.

"Look, I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot."

The second his hand made contact with her shoulder, she took him down in less than 5 seconds, before continuing her assault. Lemar joined in, attempting to defend himself from the well-trained warriors.

Sam walked over to (y/n) and Bucky as they watched the fight. The pair were getting their butts handed to them, and (y/n) couldn't help but smirk at the way Walker was getting thrown around.

"We should do something," Sam announced begrudgingly.

(Y/n) laughed when Bucky called out, "Looking strong, John."

As Ayo backed Walker into a corner, Sam piped up again. "Bucky."

The three sprang into action, and while Bucky went to stop Ayo from killing John, (y/n) and Sam ran to help Lemar who was outnumbered.

As Sam grabbed the blunt end of a spear meant for Hoskins, (y/n) blocked a swing with her forearms, giving Lemar a chance to get his bearings. She grimaced as the spear hit her cast, jarring her healing hand. Before long, all three were trying to hold off the Dora Milaje.

All of this stopped, however, when a mechanical whirr filled the room, followed by a heavy thud. (Y/n) looked towards the sound and her mouth fell open at the sight before her.

Bucky's face was contorted in an expression of hurt and confusion with his vibranium arm on the floor. Ayo whispered something the woman couldn't hear as she walked by him to find Zemo. Within seconds, (y/n) was by Bucky's side.

"What happened, Buck?" She asked, a hand on his flesh shoulder.

"Ayo... she-"

Before he could finish, she emerged from the bathroom. "He is gone. Leave it."

Within ten seconds, the group was gone. Sam grunted as he got up and made his way over to them. (Y/n) could see the pain behind Bucky's eyes, and she knew exactly why he was feeling that way.

"Did you know they could do that?" Sam asked as Bucky picked up his arm, inspecting it.

When he reattached it to his shoulder, he spun his arm around. "No," he said quietly.

"Buck, I'm sor-," she started, following him as he walked away.

"It's nothing."

The woman decided to wait until they were alone before bringing it up. As Walker and Hoskins left without a word, Sam peered into the bathroom where Zemo escaped. "I can't believe he pulled an El Chapo."

"I can."

With his jacket in hand, Bucky started to walk out of the main room. Sam sighed, nodding his head in the old man's direction.

"He alright?"

(y/n)'s eyes followed her boyfriend's retreating figure. "He thought the Wakandans trusted him, but this proves they never fully did. I'm gonna talk to him."

After a nod from Sam, (y/n) followed the direction Bucky disappeared to and found him sitting on the porch with a thousand-yard stare. He was so focused, or unfocused, that he didn't even notice when she sat down next to him until she looped her arm through his flesh one.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he mumbled, glancing at her briefly. "I just know how worried you get and I-"

"No, James. I was being overdramatic and I'm sorry, as well," (y/n) paused. "Do you want to talk about what just happened?"

(Y/n) felt him tense up at the question and knew he was trying to hide his emotions. She rubbed his arm gently, trying to coax him to answer. After a few seconds, he looked at her with tears in his eyes.

"I thought I was free," he whispered shakily. "But I guess they never really trusted me."

The young woman's heart broke with every crack in his voice. She moved a hand to his cheek while the other grabbed his vibranium one.

"I trust you, James Buchanan Barnes. I trust you more than anyone else because I love you."

At her confession, his eyes snapped to hers, just staring for a few seconds. It was as if he was making sure she said what he thought she said. Sensing his apprehension, she repeated herself, a soft and teary smile painting her face.

"I love you. So much. I have for a while."

A single tear slipped out of the eye of the usually stoic supersoldier as he gently pulled her into an embrace, his chin on top of her head.

"I love you, too, doll. More than anything."

Pulling apart, he cupped her face and kissed her softly. (Y/n)'s hands traveled up around his neck as one of his moved to her waist, pulling her closer.

The door behind them opened without warning, followed by a wolf whistle from Sam. "Well, I'm glad y'all have made up 'cause I was tired of dealing with your mopey selves."

Pulling away, Bucky looked at the man with a look meant to kill, except for the little quirk at the corner of his lips that said otherwise.

"I hate you."

Sam chuckled. "I'm aware."

Red-faced and flustered, (y/n) laughed along with him before glancing between the men. "What's next?"

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[abarbaricyalp]

For @sambuckylibrary TFATWS Anniversary Event! How late is this fill? Yes. I just couldn't get the idea out of my head.

CW: Grief and related discussions

Sam didn't jump when the door to his suite in Sharon's place opened. He didn't even turn off his phone screen, like a kid being caught up past their bedtime. Or like a superhero whose phone rang in the middle of a delicate mission. He did set the phone aside and turned to find Bucky in the dimness of the room. Despite the thriving nightlife and the pulsing neons of Madripoor outside, the room remained dark without the overhead lights on. One lamp, in the far corner, provided all there was.

Bucky paused halfway between the bed where Sam was sitting and the door he'd just come in. "Do... do you want to be alone?" he asked hesitantly.

Bucky was impossible to figure out. Every time Sam thought he had his temperament down, Bucky hit him with something else. Sam thought he was broody and a loner; Bucky made friends with strangers on the street. Sam thought he was confident and sure; Bucky deferred to Sam's judgement before answering. Sam thought the adrenaline would be coursing through him after running for his life; Bucky showed up in soft athletic shorts with a quiet voice.

Sam gave a quiet, bitter chuckle. "The opposite, actually," he answered. He picked up the phone and waved the lit screen at Bucky. "I wish someone very specific was here."

Bucky came over with padded, but heavy, foot steps and sat beside Sam on his bed. He took the phone and scrolled through the line of texts on it. "Romanov?" he asked in surprise. "Were you two...?"

Sam shook his head and took his phone back. "No. We were just friends. And I really miss her ribbing right now. God, do you know how much shit I'd have to hear if she was around to find out about my phone ringing during that debacle with Selby?"

Bucky offered him a small smile and handed his phone back. "I didn't know her as well as you did. Tell me about it. Tell me what you wanted to tell her."

Sam turned the screen off, then tapped his thumb nail against the black box of it. "I told Fury once--after DC, when Steve and I were getting ready to find you--I told Fury I was more of a soldier than a spy. Nat found out I'd said it--swear it was Steve who ratted me out--and she made it her mission to train me in the ways of spycraft. It was usually silly stuff, things you'd expect out of a children's book, the fun, easy, practical stuff. But I think the first thing she told me was to always leave my phone on silent. As soon as it rang in there, I think I heard a thousand lectures all at once. Man, she probably would've made me take a bunch of laps around the gym for that."

"She made you exercise when you were a bad spy?" Bucky asked in amused confusion.

"Nah, because she woulda been chasing me," Sam corrected with a small laugh. "And then you in that club, when that guy tried to dance with you? God, I just wanted to take a picture and send it to her."

"He was brazen," Bucky agreed.

"It was the first time you really dropped character all night, y’know? The Winter Soldier woulda just pushed him away but you froze and got all wide eyed and old-fashioned."

"I am not old-fashioned," Bucky argued with a roll of his eyes.

"Nat would've agreed with me," Sam said with a total confidence in his voice. He watched his own reflection in the screen of his phone and then sighed. "She'd love all of this. I bet she had Madripoor on her map. I wanted to call and ask her about it when we first heard about it. Steve always called what she did 'intel gathering' but I think half the time she already knew what he was asking about. She was so smart and so sharp." A pang shot through his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut, swallowed away tears in his throat.

Bucky's hand came to rest on Sam's thigh, lower down by his knee. "I'm sorry she's gone," he said softly.

"I wasn't even there to say goodbye," Sam whispered back. "She died for us, to bring us back, because we failed in that fight."

Bucky's fingers tightened on Sam's knee, and then his arm moved around Sam's shoulders instead, pulling him into an awkward half hug. It was made all the more awkward when Sam collapsed against Bucky's side and hid his face in the meat of Bucky's shoulder. The day had been long and exhausting and exciting and terrifying. For so many years, he'd had people to fall back on after days like that. There were jokes and greasy foods and other people who had gone through it too waiting in a crappy motel room.

And now what he had was a fancy but empty room, a partner who didn't trust him, and a gnawing hunger in his stomach for something he was never getting back. The danger persisted in this country and a whole new crop of problems awaited him back home. Legacies and prejudices and desires and expectations, all coming from a thousand places, all pulling him in different directions.

All he wanted was to hear Natasha laugh at him and Bucky for tripping over their own feet on this one. He wanted to know what she'd say about the shield. He wanted her next to him no matter what decision he made. She'd instantly defied the Accords to be next to Steve when Peggy died and Sam could really use that kind of selfless, unconditional support right now.

Bucky curled closer to Sam, using his other arm to brace him upright. "I'm right here," he murmured. "It's going to be okay."

Sam nodded against his shoulder. Maybe that would be enough later. And maybe one day it would be enough to keep going in the future. For tonight, he let himself feel safe with Bucky and let himself miss Natasha with an ache so profound that maybes and optimism weren't cutting it.

And still despite that, an optimistic maybe lingered as Bucky rubbed his back and stayed right there, just like he promised.

[hiimtai]

Character: Tai

Face Claim: Amberly Yang

Full Name: Tai Lin

Age: 24

Birthday: July 23rd

Species: Mutant, Half Neyaphem

Abilities: Teleportation, Time Manipulation, Martial Art Mastery

Gender/Pronouns: Female, She/Her

Occupation: N/A

Affiliation[s]: The Hellfire Club, The Feng Empire

Family

Mother: Dai Lu Lin [Alias: Feng]

Father: Azazel

Siblings: Kurt Wagner [paternal half-brother], Dawn Quested [paternal half-sister]

Abilities [expanded]

Tai has the power to teleport to any place she can see. This isn't limited to direct line of sight, as she can use images of places to travel globally. She also has the ability to stop and rewind time, the limit being a few hours before she begins to experience psychological side effects. She can use these two abilities together to "jump" to the past or teleport when time is stopped. The area of effect of her time manipulation is roughly ten miles in any direction from where she's standing, but she can affect individual people or things directly.

Personality

Traits: Loyal, Generous, Outgoing

Flaws: Manipulative, Merciless

Likes: Reading, poetry, card games, sunny weather

Dislikes: Flying, being late, board meetings

Bio

Our story begins with a woman named Dai Lu Lin. Originally from Hong Kong, she was arranged to be married to the son of a wealthy crime lord who ran a large organization in Madripoor. Dai Lu, who had been an orphan all her life, saw the marriage as a way to propel her forward and accepted it with little resistance.

The marriage was one of convenience more than anything, and while her husband worked as a goon for his father, Dai Lu would go on to learn about organized crime and the inner workings of the family she married into. She also studied law and was permitted to return to Hong Kong to get her degree.

When she returned to Madripoor, Dai Lu found out that her husband's father had been murdered, and a power struggle for the criminal underground had begun. Dai Lu wanted her husband to assume his father's role, something that would, in turn, serve her own desires, but he refused. Incensed by her husband's weakness, Dai Lu poisoned him and tried to assume control of the criminal underworld.

However, she was met with resistance and forced to go into hiding after a failed attempt on her life. Madripoor's criminal underworld continued to crumble as different families tried to assume power, all while Dai Lu waited for the perfect moment to strike again.

During this respite, Dai Lu lived in Hong Kong and worked as an attorney at a small but proifatble law firm. It's here she would meet Azazel, who would make her the offer of a lifetime. If she would bear him a child, he would remove her competition and make it so that she could assume complete control over the criminal underworld in Madripoor. She agreed, and Azazel held up his end of the bargain by slaughtering the smaller crime families and anyone else who would stand against her. Dai Lu held up her end by giving birth to a baby girl.

Dai Lu, now operating under the name Feng [凤], would teach Tai the ways of the world they lived in while also providing her with love, comfort, and protection. Tai has always been a generally happy person, and she and her mother have lived lavishly and generally unbothered. Due to her connection to Azazel, Dai Lu is also a lower ranking member of the Hellfire Club, which means Tai is affiliated as well.

Notes

Tai has worked as a bodyguard for her mother on multiple occasions

Tai was trained in several different martial arts styles from a young age

She has a tattoo down her spine that says "在擁有你之前我不懂得如何去愛" ["I didn't know how to love before I had you." -something her mother said to her]

She's close to the Frost siblings, but closest to Amelie, whom she regards quite highly

Despite her generally sweet exterior, Tai is just as, if not more ruthless than Dai Lu

[tllgrrl]

The Marks by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

Pairing: James “Bucky” Barnes/Sarah Wilson | Rated: T / SFW

Summary: “What…did you…tell the boys…about those bites, Sarah?”, he says very slowly, between each searching, searing kiss. “Tell me, please?”

It’s one thing to explain about a scar or a bruise from when you do superhero or fishing boat stuff.

It’s another thing to try to explain something like a bite…from when Mom & Dad are having their own “Playtime”.

* * * * * * * * * *

“James…?”

There he was, at the desk in his room up in the attic.

It’s like a study. Bookshelves filled with books, a few framed photos, and some shelves of vinyl LPs.

And there’s a wooden table with a refurbished record player on it.

A wardrobe is on the other side of the attic space, against the wall opposite the bed. There’s also a dresser, a full length mirror, a wall mirror, and a chair.

The king-sized bed is under the skylight, so he knows where he is if a nightmare wakes him.

One of Sarah’s headwraps and her kimono robe are hanging on the bed frame at the foot of the bed.

He also has a sleeping bag on the floor. Just in case.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Breakfast is almost ready…”

“Sure thing.”

He looks over his shoulder, away from the laptop and schematics on his desk, and sees the almost sheepish smile on her face. Like she’s embarrassed about something.

Something that she’s not completely embarrassed about.

“What’s…that look? OK. What happened?”

“You happened. Last night. Remember?”

“Mmmmm…sure do.”

He smiles and his eyes do a quick tour of her. She’s sexy as hell even in some oversized secondhand men’s jeans and, what he knows by its colour, an almost scandalously tight tank top she’s wearing under one of his old dress shirts that has a hole in it…from a bullet fired at him during a shootout in Madripoor where, after that mission, he half-heartedly swore to Sam he’d never return.

“It was nice.” He grins, leaning back in the chair. “Especially when you did that thing where your hips—“

“Yeah, no. This is about the thing you did.”

She was looking at the floor, then she looked up and caught his eyes.

And she smiled, then bit her lip.

Which made him put down his pen, and turn his chair around to face her.

“Sarah…if you ask me if you can give me a hypothetical, I will lock us in this room…and do things with you…breakfast, lunch, and dinner be damned.”

They both laugh.

“I was giving the boys their breakfast, and they saw these…”

She shows him the inside of her left forearm, and also where her neck meets her shoulder.

Even from where he’s sitting he can see that those are his teeth marks, upper and lower, as well as bruising.

“Cass’s mind, of course, went straight to Werewolves. AJ? Vampires.

I had to stop myself from telling them that Cass was the closest, because the White Wolf’s story isn’t mine to tell, sithandwa. It’s yours.

They asked me what happened…and…I…I told them…”

“What did you tell them, baby?”

“Well…I…” she looks away from him. “I…” She drops her head.

“Sarah?” He’s now smiling at her embarrassment. “Close the door.”

She turns, quietly closes the door…and locks it.

When she turns back to face him, he’s about 3 feet away from her.

(How…?! He was way on the other side of the room! How?!?)

“Sa-raaah…” He takes a step, picks up her left hand and pushes the already rolled sleeve up further to reveal her arm, and the obvious bite mark shaped like two crescents, surrounded by bruising, visible on her otherwise flawless deep brown skin.

He hisses and looks up into her eyes, and sees that she’s…

(She’s blushing.)

“Aw, baby.…” He kisses the bite, lightly licks it, and kisses it again. Then he runs the back of his metal hand gently over her left cheek, pulls the shirt collar away from her neck, and sees the same type of bite marks near her shoulder, these too, surrounded by bruises.

“Sarah…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“I was putting their plates down, about to reach across for the syrup, and I pushed the sleeve up so it wouldn’t…and I wasn’t thinking about it until I heard Cass gasp and drop his fork.

Then AJ pointed at me and said ‘Mama, are you hurt?’ He saw just the edge of the bruise on my neck. Thank God I pulled the collar closed before he saw the whole bite and started yelling for Sam to come look—“

“Well…what did you tell them? That I’m a werewolf?” he chuckled.

He took off his shirt, unzipped his jeans, pulled them down…and there, on his left side, and on his upper right thigh, were two bite marks, and bruises that looked like they were fading as she watched.

She shakes her head, feeling herself wanting to laugh partially because she’s embarrassed at the thought of her kids seeing evidence of adult—particularly their Mom and Dad’s sexual shenanigans, and partially because her partner in said shenanigans is standing close…really close.

He pulls his pants up and puts his shirt back on.

“And so, my question remains unanswered.”

“I…told them…I…Okay…”

“Saaa-raaah”, he coos as he takes another step closer and his chest is a couple of inches away from contact with her body. “Tell me, baby.”

“James…”

“Yes…?”

“I need to go back downstairs. I have…there’s oatmeal cooking—“

“SAM?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“CAN YOU KEEP AN EYE ON THE OATMEAL? SARAH’S IN THE BATHROOM.”

“Sure thing.”

“THANKS!

There. Now...” He closes the last inch of space between them, bends his knees a little, then pulls himself up to his full height, dragging his body against hers while pressing her back into the door, his hands flat against the wood, one down by her waist, the other up by her head.

“You…were saying?” he says softly, into her ear.

“I…told them…well, I said to them..that…” she whispered, panting.

‘You’re stalling…” he said, eyes twinkling mischievously, “but you know me. I can do this all day.”

He kisses her…and kisses her…and kisses her, his tongue rolls across her teeth and sweeps across her tongue…and he pulls her bottom lip into his mouth…

“Tell me, baby. Use your words…” he says, now also rolling his hips on her as he tries to pull the words out of her with his mouth.

She feels her focus start to telescope down to where all she is aware of is his mouth having its way with hers, and how she could easily beg him to have some mercy and please use that mouth of his on other parts of her…but…

“What…did you…tell the boys…about…those bites…Sarah?” He says very slowly, between each searching, searing kiss. “Tell me, please?”

“Ohmygod…” she says into his mouth, gasping for breath, and giggling.

“I told them…that you’d explain it to them.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Originally posted HERE on AO3 about 2 years ago. Happy Fic Birthday.

[biitchcakes]

@raisedcold ( misumi ) ♡'d for a starter !!

❝ Misumi ? ❞ A shave and a haircut rhythmically knocked on the door of her PARTNER'S Tokyo apartment. ❝ そこにいる ? [ Are you there ? ] ❞ Chewing her bottom lip, Jessica lowers her voice, speaking through the almost non-existent gap where the door meets its frame, and directly to the sorcerer she hoped was inside.

❝ もっと早くここに戻ってこようと思った [ I thought I'd be back here SOONER ]. Madripoor was insanely difficult to get a flight out of. ❞

[badtothebcne]

@makeowndestiny

There didn't need to be any pleasantries, or any type of fancy setup to get one another in something of a private, intimate setting. Logan and Diana both knew each other incredibly well enough by this point to know what the other wanted when it came to these types of moods: Madripoor nights, rough passion, and emptying out all of the anger, anguish, and any other type of emotions within their system. She was an Amazonian and blessed from birth, and he was a mutant who had a healing factor that allowed him to heal from virtually any type of injury, so their unions were the perfect holy mesh of physicality, endurance marathons, and raw emotion unleashed. Diana may have been slightly jaded with the world and mankind in general lately, but Logan was more than happy to be the exception, to be that distraction that she needed to keep believing that the world itself was one day saving. But right now, the only world that needed saving was this bed, because with Logan now topping Diana, he planted all six claws into the pillow right next to her head, dangerously close to her ears but not quite piercing her skin. "Glad you're here darlin', because things are about to get a whole lot more physical from here," Logan assured, thrusting into Diana's core with her legs wrapped comfortably strong around his waist. They'd done this song and dance before, and neither ever grew tired of it, so why change it up or stop? Rolling Diana's lower body upwards a bit, Logan went all in with his aggression, growling as he thrusted the Amazon's core repeatedly without mercy and without stopping, closing his eyes as he soaked in the exasperated moans emanating from her mouth. "Let me hear you say it. Say my name," he growled in her face, their foreheads leaning against one another in their own definition of what one would call romantic fashion.

[belayadeath-goner]

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽: 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙸𝙿𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈 𝙾𝙵 𝙼𝙰𝙳𝚁𝙸𝙿𝙾𝙾𝚁. 𝙳𝙰𝚃𝙴: 𝟶𝟾/𝟷𝟽 - 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴: 𝟸𝟹:𝟶𝟺 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙾𝙱𝙹𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴: 𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝙴𝙻𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙾𝚁.

________________________

THEY'D BEEN DROPPED OFF AT THE DROP - POINT, INTEL BRIEFED AND ASSET READY TO GO. the target was being moved from their election celebration to meet with the american intelligence agency, S.H.I.E.L.D., possibly to discuss the relations between the state of madripoor and the world. madripoor had always been notoriously known for its corruption and violence. S.H.I.E.L.D. likely wanted to get a foot in with the new head of state as early on as possible.

they're knelt down in front of the parapet of a rooftop opposite the government offices, gloved hands silently and carefully prepping the large rifle. SOVIET SLUGS, NO RIFLING. asset shifts slightly in their seat, moving to get a glance at the masses down below after hearing [ Цель в движении. S.H.I.E.L.D. присутствие подтверждено ]: ' the target's on the move, S.H.I.E.L.D. presence confirmed ' in the comm in their ear. trained eye narrows in through the scope, scanning, scanning, finally locking in on the chancellor and his companions... S.H.I.E.L.D. agents crowd him, and among them one the asset knew as the former captain america, @libertadr . escape wasn't going to be easy, though the mission's objective always came first.

[ “  Цель зафиксирована.  ” ]: ' target locked. ' they breathe, pulse slowed and waiting for the go. confirmation reads through the comm, and they breathe... ... trigger is pulled, and the shot clocks through the air — none below register anything until the chancellor is suddenly on the ground, and agents rushing to surround him in the ensuing chaos. ' no vitals. clean shot. ', THE WHITE DEATH hears from a second voice in their comm from the ground below.

the confirmation almost start a clock within them, packing the rifle back up and slips it into the bag with ease, before it's slung over their shoulder and they make their way to the exit staircase. only briefly do they break off to safely stash the weapon away in a utility closet, five floors below the rooftop, to be collected by lower rankings on a later date. upon returning back to the staircase, they decide against mechanically taking every flight, and instead they throw themselves over the railing for the remaining five stories and land with a loud THUD on the ground floor; the tiles slightly breaking up underneath their boots. though the situation takes a much expected turn when they collect themselves to see a broad, uniformed figure stand between them and the door way. the very same they'd spotted in the scope only moments ago. COMMANDER ROGERS.

“  move. or you will be moved.  ”

[xprojectrpg]

This Day in X-Project - January 30

PHASE 2

2015: Rogue runs into Gabriel and he expresses bitterness over the fact Rogue doesn’t have to remember what happened to their universe. Jubilee texts Wade asking him if he likes mimes. Wade texts Kurt to tell him Jubilee bought him a mime and that he can’t shoot it but later that she came to her senses and got rid of it. Laurie posts about being sad she’s had to defer her studies for a year. Adrienne texts Rogue to complain about Scott not caring about Jean’s death after Rogue calls her out on being a crazy bitch to Scott in her journal. Jubilee texts Adrienne asking why she’s so cranky. Cammie posts about hiring a flock of mimes to annoy Jubilee. Wade texts Adrienne asking if she wants to spar when he gets back from the office. Miles texts Spiderman about meeting ‘taco angel’ last night. Logan texts Scott asking if he’s okay because he’s been hearing ‘rumblings’ about him. Garrison runs into Rogue in the kitchen and they discuss the relationship Rogue can’t remember, which upsets Garrison to a great degree. Rogue lets Adrienne know in their texts that she’s upset Garrison so Adrienne texts Garrison to ask if she can help him and tell him she’s planned an escape to the Plaza for them for the weekend. Rogue texts Logan after Adrienne gets upset with her for upsetting Garrison, and Logan comes to collect her to take her away for a while. Marie-Ange tells Cammie and Jubilee in Cammie’s post to stop fooling around so Jubilee texts Marie-Ange to tell her she’s sorry and that she’ll be going to Madripoor so can Marie-Ange or Amanda keep an eye on Kurt for her. Amanda texts Marie-Ange offering to ask Kurt to take Jubilee on holiday. Amanda emails Kurt to tell him that she and Marie-Ange have officially decided Jubilee needs downtime and that she can get them tickets anywhere Kurt wants to take her. Laurie emails Doug about going out for dinner.

2016: The Two Sided Coin of Ambition: Hope A asks Doug for some help investigating who might have set her up; Julian talks to Hope A about the situation so far; Julian calls X-Factor in to investigate. After a day of job searching, Jennie and Gabriel hit up a Lower East Side bar and talk about life. Jubilee gets back from a work trip and she and Kurt catch up.

2017: Bobbi admits that eating Nutella for two straight weeks might make you a little sick.

2018: Artie contacts X-Force from Chicago, where he’s trying to make contacts, and avoid the man with the pigeons. Sooraya emails Angelo about her email from Charles. Hope A emails Topaz about a meeting with her advisor at college and getting the classes she wanted.

2019: Maya asks if boys care if you ask them out first. Terry posts a request for an assistant. Felicia finds North at the firing range after he returns from a difficult mission and gives him support.

2020: Topaz announces Jean-Paul has gone walkabout. Jean emails Kitty about doing an escape room for Kitty’s birthday. Molly bites her tongue and wonders if that means she’s not invulnerable to herself.

2021:

2022: Gabriel comments on the snow storm leaving him in Brazil.

2023:

[ofsokovianbaronesses]

Heike jumped into one of the many cars she’d acquired in Madripoor, classics like the collection she’d amassed at home in Sokovia. She’d picked up a love of them from her father and Helmut had been more than willing to spend stupid amounts of money on helping her build up her own collection. Probably all destroyed or impounded by now, she thought wryly as her knuckles whitened against the steering wheel.

Despite the reputation of the city, Heike felt perfectly at ease driving to the safe house herself, parking up and beginning upstairs, only a few minutes before her husband was due to arrive. If it was her husband, she thought to herself as she checked her gun.

She fiddled with her wedding and engagement ring as she heard the arrival of the escort up the stairs, sat at a dining table in the relatively bare bones apartment on the lower end of High Town. She looked up when Helmut walked in, and instantly seemed hurt and confused to see her.

Well, that made sense, she thought. But on the other hand, why would he come here or break out if it wasn’t for the discovery that she was alive? Why was he wearing his old uniform?

“Helmut.” She replied in a tone she hoped was calming, before indicating that everyone else should leave. They filed out relatively quickly, leaving them alone. She gestured to the chair opposite her. “Much better to talk alone, hmm?” She asked in Sokovian.

Mistimed & Misplaced || @ofsokovianbaronesses

Helmut didn't remember falling asleep, but waking up was a nightmare.

It took him almost ten minutes to figure out where he was - though, it had been almost five years since he'd last been to Madripoor, so it was the mix of languages more than anything else that tipped him off as to where he was. He didn't remember everything being quite so... neon.

Memories were missing; that was the only logical conclusion he could come to. He didn't remember getting here. He hadn't even changed out of his uniform, clearly. The last thing he remembered...

... a forest. A strange flash of light.

Absolutely nothing helpful, clearly, and his head hurt too much to properly make sense of the situation immediately. What he knew was that he needed to reach out to a contact, find a place to lay low until he could get back home.

He made his way to a sideroad, and then into a small park where he pulled out his phone, only to find it 'not in service'. That was less than helpful. He didn't even know where he was going to find a payphone. A hotel would be the better option, and using a phone there.

With a sigh of frustration, he made his way back out to the main road again to get his bearings, before starting on the steady walk towards where he last recalled there being a hotel, doing his best to ignore the strange looks he was getting for his attire. At least it was Madripoor and no one was giving him a second look for his weaponry.

[dynamicduoofstackie]

Sam Wilson on Fear Factor like:

[jangofctts]

All the Love We Never Had (Zemo x fem!reader)

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 

Warnings: smut, explicit language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence and injuries, finger sucking, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, overstimulations, multiple orgasms, unprotected vaginal sex (dont be a dick, wrap that stick), fucking on a couch

How you ended up globetrotting alongside The Falcon, the Winter Soldier, and Baron Helmut Zemo? You have no fucking clue. Sounds like the start of a bad joke.  

Madripoor was a nightmare, Sharon a guilty reminder, and Nagel a fucking disaster. Not like you held any empathy for the guy—bastard stole your journals and dressed your work up as his to further his own research. Made this new strain of super serum—fucker. As terrible as it is to say, you weren’t all too pressed when Zemo pulled the trigger. 

And now you’re here in Riga—holed up in the Baron’s vacation home. It’s nice, you suppose—Zemo has lavish tastes. 

Unfortunate you don’t get to immediately enjoy the spoils of a king sized bed. Sam makes sure of that. “Mind watching the Baron, kid?”  

Under normal circumstances you’d agree—Sam’s been pushing himself, Bucky never sleeps, and it shows. However, you’re in exactly the same predicament. These past few days have not been kind—you’re exhausted. And besides, Zemo unnerves you. It feels like his dark eyes are always upon you—tracing your every step. And the flirting—     

“What? No,” you protest. “I don’t wanna babysit his ass!”

“Tough shit,” Sam says, folding his arms over his chest. “It’s your turn.”  

Bucky hauls his overnight bag over his shoulder and pats your arm. “He’s right—good luck.” 

You gape, sputtering nonsense as they both disappear into their own rooms. The doors slam shut behind them. Oh, fuck this—

Zemo crosses his ankles, propped on the couch. “And then there were two—whatever shall we do together?“

You glare and snatch a spare magazine from the ottoman and throw yourself onto the couch, opposite of Zemo. If you have to babysit, might as well be comfortable doing it. “Don’t talk to me.”

Zemo tilts his head, his smile devious. “We could be enjoying more pleasurable activities to fill the time.” 

“I literally hate you.” 

And you do. You should. 

Oh, but he is attractive. You’d have to be blind not to admit such a thing—but even then, his mannerisms are chivalrous and polite. Putting the whole international terrorist thing aside, he’s the kind of man that plays right into your fantasies. Put together, well-spoken, dark hair and dark eyes to match. It’s rare to find a man with such an extensive amount of education without being snobby about it. Sometimes...

It’s one of his vices—looking harmless. You should know by the vulpine smile he wears that he’s nothing but sharp fangs and savagery. You’ve seen it first hand. Never aimed at you, but close enough to the people you love.     

“You have wandering eyes.” Zemo purrs, peering over the rim of his crystalline tumbler as he raises it to his lips. “Do you find something to your liking?”

You scoff and raise your magazine to block Zemo’s face—a shame you never learned Latvian. It’s basically just a picture book at this point. “Just wondering what poor animal you scalped for that coat.”

Zemo hums in contemplation and raises a hand to thumb at the fur. “Rabbit I believe. Or maybe it is kitten fur.”

You purse your lips and lower the magazine just far enough to shoot him an icy glare. A devilish sparkle flickers to life within those captivating dark eyes, the barest hint of a smirk gracing his lips. He shrugs out of his coat. You chew the inside of your cheek and return the magazine to its previous position. Damn him. “A real comedian, aren’t you, Zemo?”  

“You find me funny?” 

You clench your jaw. Stupid bastard is fishing for compliments. “Yeah, in a clown sort of way.”  

The rapidly melting ice cubes clink against the glass as Zemo stirs his drink with a languid rotate of his wrist. “I find you amusing,” he sips his drink, “among other things.” 

Irritation flares hot and bright beneath your skin. You snap the magazine over your thighs. “I’m trying to read, if you don’t mind.” 

“You are only looking at the pictures, lastovička,” he states matter of factly. “If I am not mistaken, Latvian is not among the languages you speak, yes?”     

You squint. You don’t like where this is going. The beginnings of a game of cat and mouse—dangling the bait above your head to entice you—instill the beginnings of rapport you’ll have a bitch of a time scrubbing clean. You should take Sam and Bucky’s advice and just ignore him. But, the coyness of his smile, viper like and dangerous, tempts you nonetheless. You figure there’s no harm dealing into his little game—only to deduce what exactly he’s angling for. 

“No,” you admit. 

Zemo leans forward, leather creaking as he places his glass onto the ottoman. He rubs at his chin with his forefinger and thumb, rasping against his dark stubble. “Arabic is your favored second language and Spanish—“

“How do you know that?” You hiss, heart leaping between your teeth. S.H.I.E.L.D assured your file would be scrapped and kept off the books.  

“I know much about you,” Zemo grins, interlacing his fingers and reclining back against the couch. 

A biting chill races down your spine. You run your tongue over the backs of your teeth. “Oh?”

“Indeed,” Zemo chuckles. “A graduate of chemistry from Oxford and later a doctorate in cellular biology from Harvard. Hired by Stark Industries, then S.H.I.E.L.D., later to run off with our esteemed American sweetheart, Steven Rogers, during the Avenger’s little spat… Shall I continue?”       

Your lips part in surprise at the regurgitation of your resume. You pride rears at the last bit. “I didn’t run off—I was forcibly removed from S.H.I.E.L.D..”

Somehow, you believe he already knows that tidbit of information. He smiles. 

“Your studies regarding the serum are impressive to say the least,” Zemo compliments as your lungs tighten and squeeze. He’s skirting a dangerous line. “I admit running into certain difficulties in my attempts to access your research journals—and the scientist herself.” 

You teeth gnaw on your bottom lip. It’s still a tender subject for you—your life’s work being destroyed and all. Swept under the rug and scolded for your ambitions. “My research was controversial—firing me was not.”

“They saw your results as a threat to the Avengers,” he states. Zemo shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “Typical capitalistic dogma.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “I wouldn’t call it that…it was more like fear…if anything.” 

“So it worked?” Zemo, in these brief moments, has shuffled closer. Excitement is plastered all over his delicate features. You wince—S.H.I.E.L.D. terminated your project before you could gather a better sample size—to protect their secrets from people like Helmut Zemo. An experiment in whether or not the serum could be micro dosed for temporary uses. Instead you just figured out how to suppress the cells and render the serum useless—permanently. “I am surprised they let you keep your life.”  

You rub your arms and look away. So are you. You figure someone high up in the ranks either pulled some strings or outright threatened someone. S.H.I.E.L.D. is long gone but you can never shake the habit of looking over your shoulder—the paranoia that comes with even mentioning the subject. You’re not an idiot—they’ve sent agents time after time to ensure you kept your mouth shut—sent people to neutralize you when you and Steve were on the run. Hell, they probably still keep tabs on you. 

Zemo hums and reaches for his drink. He kicks his head back and drains the remnants. His thumb swipes at a bead of liquid that pearls off his bottom lip. “We are not so different, you and I.” 

Your shoulders bounce as you scoff. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t an international terrorist.” 

He bobs his head. “True—but you are a humanitarian, however.”

“Are you suggesting you are too?” You say, lifting a brow.

Zemo shrugs. “I promote the welfare of others and social reform in methods I find suitable.” 

“Like bombing the Sokovia Accords?”

A swift silence ensues. He levels you with a serious stare. The hairs on the back of your neck rise to fine points. “It was necessary.” 

It briefly crosses your mind to call for Sam and Bucky—they’d appear in a heartbeat. Zemo follows your line of thinking and waves his hand to dismiss the tension. He wants you alone—or just doesn’t want Bucky to punch his teeth in. 

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You unclench your fists from the fabric of your leggings. 

It’s a fascinating experience to watch Zemo flip from deadly to placid in the blink of an eye. Intriguing but nothing less than intimidating. A vortex of emotion that lurks under the cool surface. “The serum is a blight upon humanity—a shame you never published your findings.” 

He’s fishing again. 

“Unlike you, I was trying to give enhanced people options,” you accuse, biting down on the bait. “I didn’t care about the defensive threat or whatever they labeled it as.”           

“Same purpose, different angles, Doctor.”   

You hate that he’s right.

His motivations stem from hatred and revenge while yours are rooted in compassion and mercy. It’s no secret that enhanced individuals are exploited, persecuted and shunned from the majority of society. You get it—you’d be fuckin’ pissed too if your car was used as an Avenger’s personal springboard each week, fighting off hoards of aliens or psycho robots. Fucked up is what it is. 

Unfortunately you happen to be friends with the bastards in question.   

You’ve seen both Steve and Bucky suffer—crumple under the weight of an era they have no business living in. The perpetual demands of society with equally critical conviction. Fear is a funny thing, and world leaders do not like things that they cannot control. 

“If I may ask,” Zemo drawls. “How did you come by your findings?” 

You snort and pick at a loose thread on your sleeve. “Subjects were limited, so I uh—well I tried the antiserum out on myself.”

His eyes widen. “You took the serum?”

You nod. Worst pain you’d ever fuckin’ felt. You nearly died from it too. “Yeah—no one else volunteered.” 

Steve was close to agreeing—dipped out at the last second. You don’t blame him, the antiserum hurt like a bitch. You had a fever for days.     

“Brave girl.” 

His words send a dark thrill through you, heat burning under your cheeks. “Whatever—it’s kinda obsolete at this point.” 

“Many do not have your resolve.”

“Ok?” You shrug, hoping your chilliness will ward him off. “It’s not a big deal.”

A stagnant silence ensues. His dark eyes search your face—calculating. You don’t like being under such scrutiny.

When Zemo finds what he’s looking for he speaks up. “You claim to hate me to convince yourself that you do not find my company enjoyable.” 

Anger boils in your chest. It’s true. It’s true and you hate yourself for it. Your muteness gives him enough of an answer. He taps his finger to his nose and scoots closer. You eye him warily.  

“You are a woman of science—indulge me in an experiment.”

Every word from his mouth is like bringing wood to a burning house. You’ll be here all night until ashes are all you breathe.

He’d almost broken past the walls you erected between you in Madripoor. In order to blend in, you acted as his arm candy. It was too easy to pretend to enjoy his possessive touches, the quick pecks against your temple and throat. Not so much an act—you wrestled with the sick flips of your stomach at Sharon’s party and your innate curiosity for Zemo. You’re dousing yourself in kerosene and playing with matches.  

What Sam and Bucky don’t know won’t kill them, right?”

You bob your head with a stiff nod. “Ok…”

Zemo closes the distance between you on the cushions.  

Captivated with each movement, every quirk of his lips and the playful glitter in his eyes—you allow him to skim his soft palm over your knuckles. His long fingers skate over your wrist, curling around the delicate area with equal tenderness as a musician would do with the neck of a stringed instrument. Your eyes are glued to his face, not once dropping that mischievous calculating stare as he brings your fingertips to his mouth. His lips are plush, warm and far too inviting.

A blush heats your cheeks as Zemo plants a sweet kiss into your palm, folds your fingers and peppers light kisses over your knuckles, the back of your hand, your wrist. His lips tickle the crease of your elbow then lift away as he tempts you closer, skimming his fingertips down the length of your arm to catch around your wrist. He tucks your hand close to his hip, making it so that you need to prop most of your weight up on the forgiving cushion while leaning into his space. You’re nose to nose with Zemo now, his gentle exhales cool against your flaming skin. It’s too late to escape his trap of bridging the distance you tried so hard to keep. 

He brings his right hand up to your face and smooths a knuckle down your cheek. He curls his index finger under your chin, tilting your head up and a little to the side. Zemo’s lips are hovering over yours, sharing air and alighting your nerves with crackling energy each time his bottom lip just barely grazes yours. Suspended in a wicked dance of lofted desire. It drives you mad. 

Your voice is breathy—wavering. “I’m not going to beg.”

“I am,” you feel him smirk, his voice a rough rasp. “Kiss me.” 

It’s easy to surrender your pride—to press your lips to his mouth that tastes like cherry blossom tea and devastation. The kiss is hazy and slow—a faint whisper of Zemo’s pleased sigh and the tickle of his stubble against your chin. No rush, no hasty fight against the ticking of a clock running on borrowed time.  

His thumb strokes over the line of your jaw with such fondness that a stab of ache pierces through your ribs. The second kiss is bolder as his lips mold to yours, the hand on your jaw sliding to the back of your neck while the other grips your upper arm. Your fingers tangle into his soft hair as you drag him impossibly closer, tilting your head and deepening the kiss—Zemo groans. 

If he is the sun then you are his forsaken Icarus. What’s left of your molten wings is burning—dripping down your spine in great rivulets of ichorous wax. You can’t change your trajectory and the sun still seduces you in with his dazzling, golden rays—what needs to be and what will be. Heat tears you apart from the inside out and you are only adding fuel to the fire by dragging yourself onto his lap and locking your arms around Zemo, rolling your wet tongue against the seem of his lips. You do not fly too close to the sun—you step towards it, offering yourself up like the great sacrificial lamb upon a funeral pyre. You do not fall to the water and extinguish. The sun stops burning you—morphing into the soft light of dawn and honey glazed fruits. A gentle caress against the skin. 

You breath hitches as he parts his lips, tenderly exploring the taste of you. It’s a perfected dance, playful dips of his tongue to keep you enticed and eager for more and just enough teeth nipping at your bottom lip to remind you of his venomous nature. It’s addicting—  

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, Zemo parts and dips his head to leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up your neck and jaw. His tongue laves at your earlobe, muttering a curse under his breath as your rock your hips into his lap. You whimper and nestle into the crux of where his neck meets his shoulder, your humid breath blooming across his skin and bringing to light just how hard you’re panting. His cologne is elysian, a smoky blend of juniper and bergamot. Expensive.  

Zemo trails his curious fingers down your spine and wraps his hand around your waist, jerking you higher up his legs. Your knees press into the back of the couch, keeping you from fully resting on his lap. Already his arousal presses against the front of his pants. A light cherry red flush stains his fair skin as a sheepish smile works its way onto Zemo’s face. “Apologies—you are terribly alluring and I—ah…I have not taken a lover in many years.” 

“I don’t care,” you assure, a sick sort of delight rushing through your veins at his confession. You drag your tongue up his neck and clamp your teeth around the bit of skin right over his pulse point. He grunts and shifts under you. “I’m in the same boat.”     

“I thought perhaps Sam or Ja—“

“Don’t talk about them,” you interrupt with a wince. Fuck, you’re going to hell. “Please—not now.”  

Zemo hums, obliging your request. He noses at your cheek and guides you into another saccharine kiss. When you part, a sticky trail of saliva connects your lips. “What is it you desire from me?”    

Far off in the back of your mind, your conscious screams at you to flee, escape while you can and shake your hands free of him. The more present part of you and the heat between your legs, convinces you otherwise. Zemo knows it too—he’s had you in the palm of his hand since Madripoor, tugging on your invisible strings like a marionette doll.  

Your stubbornness ties your tongue into knots. You clench your teeth and run your fingers down his burgundy turtleneck. You refuse to give him complete satisfaction over the fact you crave him so desperately. “You.”

Zemo laughs softly and rolls the pad of his thumb over your wet lip. “You already have me—tell me what you want.”

You swallow. You’re at a standstill—neither of you will budge. You mutter a curse. “I…I want to fuck you.” 

Zemo’s wolfish grin spreads wide across his face. He then tuts in reprimand, thumb skimming your jaw. “Such crass language, lastovička.” 

You open your mouth to protest—to accuse him of hypocrisy—but the warm slant of his lips over yours washes away the irritation, a warm buzz replacing it. His other hand drops to join the other, inching up the swell of your hip in search for bare skin. Goosebumps erupt over your flesh as Zemo’s warm fingers latch over your waist, guiding the languid roll of your hips over the growing bulge in his pants. The pace is nowhere near fulfilling, it’s a slow tease meant to drag you under the waves of lustful desperation. You bite your lip to keep your airy whimpers at bay, uninterested in alerting Sam and Bucky to your sin. It’s pathetic how your arousal already soaks the fabric of your underwear. 

Breaking from Zemo’s kiss, you tuck your head into his neck and whine into his ear. His hands drop to rest on the creases of your thighs. Your voice comes out strangled. “Touch me?”

You can feel his dark chuckle vibrate through his sternum. His finger hooks into the elastic of your leggings and lets it snap back. “Take these off.” 

Peeling yourself from him, you stumble to your feet on shaky legs. Zemo watches in appreciation, laces his hands together and reclines into the cushions. Your leggings slide down the length of your legs, abandoned on the hardwood floor in a pathetic heap. Your underwear is quick to follow. Zemo reaches for you eagerly, mumbling praise in his native tongue under his breath as you settle onto his lap.            

Zemo’s thumbs rub soothing circles into the sensitive nerves lining the protrusion of your hip bones, sharp eyes blown wide in arousal. They drop between your legs. His right hand is a blaze of fire as he trails it down your thigh and over your pussy. Your breath catches in your chest as the pads of his index and middle finger lightly part your cunt—there’s no hiding your wetness that coats his fingertips with a single touch. You twitch as he runs his fingers up the line of your cunt, pausing when he finds the little nub of your clit. 

“So wet for me,” Zemo goads, circling around the bundle of nerves. Another rush of liquid heat collects in your core, flooding through your body with a wicked flush. You bite your cheek as Zemo pulls his hand away, inspecting the sticky arousal that glistens on his fingers. Smirking, he catches your eye, ensures your attention is solely on him, and laves his pink tongue over the digits. Your cunt clenches at the sight, engulfed in molten heat as Zemo moans in approval. “You taste divine, lastovička.”  

His saliva coated fingers find your cunt again, gliding through your folds with ease. Your pulse roars in your ears, body arching into his skilled touch. Your thighs jerk as he increases the pressure over your clit, drawing tight circles that burn through your abdomen. Your nails harpoon into the fabric of his shirt. “What—what does that word mean? Shit—“ 

Zemo’s breath is a scalding pant over the column of your throat, right under your chin. His teeth nip your jaw. “Nothing vulgar.”

He leaves it at that. You don’t care enough to pry it out of him.  

Your eyes flutter shut as Zemo’s fingers slip lower. Your cunt clenches in need as his wide fingertips circle your hole, lifting away every time you push into him. Fucking rude.

Whining his name, wicked need surges up your body and spreads to each limb—itching to be sated. You kiss him, open mouthed and wanting, softly groaning as his tongue curls around yours. “You are impatient.” 

You nibble his bottom lip. “And you’re a tease.”

Zemo tilts his head, grins, then abruptly thrusts two of his fingers inside of you, grinding the heel of his palm into your clit. His other arm wraps around the small of your back and pulls you even closer, trapping you against him as you wriggle and squeak. “Is this what you want?”

Your body seizes as white hot ecstasy sears through your core as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt. Sparks, brighter than an array of fireworks, burst behind your eyes. A long whine filters past your lips as you shake in his hold, your core clenching tight around his long fingers. It’s a rough change of pace—you’re flying towards your high, faster than a fucking bullet through paper. 

Zemo nuzzles into your neck, lips pressed sweetly against your ear. He nips the shell of your ear and growls your name—you’re done for.  

You cum onto his fingers with a choked cry of his name, the edges of your vision fading into hazy blobs as your back arches. A network of open ended fuses exposed to a current implode behind your eyelids as wildfire spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your curled toes. Zemo continues to finger you through your orgasm, keeping you in place as you jerk and shiver in his unrelenting hold. 

You hear his self-contented laugh above the fuzzy pleasure clouding your brain. He's still curling his fingers into your pussy—your stomach drops. Your cunt is still throbbing and aching—sensitive. Zemo is rubbing your nerves raw, each pass of his fingers a searing line of electrified bliss. 

“Take your pleasure,” Zemo purrs, devouring your cries in a kiss. “Cum around my fingers once more.”   

Zemo tilts his fingers into your cunt faster, suckling your throat and leaving behind stinging marks. Your cunt burns from overstimulation—you're back at the very edge again. Your orgasm swells within you, chars you from the inside out, leaving you a blackened husk of what you once were. Your arousal twists and folds into itself, satiated for now. The throbbing bulge of Zemo’s arousal pressing through his pants is doing a lovely job of contradicting that statement.    

You whine as Zemo pulls his hand free, aftershocks of pleasure wracking through your body after your euphoric highs. Each accidental touch that scrapes over your hypersensitive skin dances the edge of a knife between torture and enjoyment. A deep ache settles in your hips, but you’re too lazy to roll to the side. Zemo’s chest is comfortable too—you can hear the fluttering of his heart, trapped in the gilded, ivory bars of his ribcage. He runs his hand over your hair while the other traces down the line of your spine.

Sleep claws at your eyelids, yet Zemo’s shifting, trying to rearrange himself interrupts the process. He clears his throat and uses two fingers to lift the underside of your chin to reach your lips. Zemo kisses the corner of your mouth. “Would you like to continue?”

The gravelly timbre of his voice stokes the embers of desire. Your inhibitions are stamped out. “Pants off—now.” 

“Is that a yes?” Zemo asks, quirking an amused brow. His fingers find his belt buckle. They toy with the excess leather. 

“Yes.”    

His belt buckle clinks as he paws it open. He reaches between his legs to unzip his fly, sighing in relief. “Sit up, please.”

You rock onto your knees as Zemo shoves the fabric of his pants down his thighs to pool around his ankles. A wet spot darkens the front of his grey briefs—your mouth waters. Impatient, you reach your hand between you and palm at his erection through the fabric, delighted by Zemo’s hiss through clenched teeth. He’s heavy in hand, feverish and throbbing. 

Fuck, you need him.

You look up in search for his permission. 

Zemo’s fingers skate up your bare thigh. He grins and gives the soft flesh a squeeze, near reverent in the way he stares up at you. This is where it starts to hurt. It’s frustrating how easy he unravels you, that poetry could exist in a pair of such wicked hands—how they cradle you like your body is made of fine china. “All yours, darling.”  

Licking your lips, you reach between your legs to tug at his waistband and shift his cock free from its confinements. It's somehow exactly what you expected and more. He’s average but mouthwateringly thick, a little curved, swollen cherry red tip glistening with gooey beads of clear liquid. Zemo huffs as you wrap your hand around his length, your knuckles brushing your clit as you pump your fist up and down. He barely bites off his moan, entranced by the oozing tip being swallowed up by your palm, stroking the velvet covered steel of his cock. 

His thighs jump under you each time you reach the base of him. Zemo mutters a curse and tips his head back against the couch, fingers squeezing around your hips. His cock twitches as your mouth finds his neck, throat bobbing as you suck a purple mark right under his jaw. He’s being cordial, patient with you as you explore—even if he is starting to get a bit twitchy.    

He snaps when you reach down to fondle his balls. Zemo sits straight up like he’s been pricked by a needle. He snatches your wrist and pries your hand off, chest heaving.  

“You ok?” You ask tentatively, fearing you’ve hurt him. 

Zemo quickly shakes his head and waves a hand in dismissal. He huffs, his smile bashful and eyes black with arousal. “As I’ve said, it’s been awhile—a shame to cut our time short and spend myself in your hand, no?” 

Oh. Heat burns under your cheeks. “Y-yeah. Makes sense.”

“Unless you—“

“No,” you assure, cutting him off with a short kiss. “I want you.”

A pleased hum rumbles through his chest. Zemo grips himself and settles his cock between your legs, rubs his length through your slit until he's shining with your arousal. You lean up as he cups your upper thighs with both hands and lines the head of his cock up with your center. You let yourself be pulled back down.

“Fuck,” Zemo grunts as he buries himself inside of you, the stretch a satiny, aching burn that wipes your mind clean. Zemo’s vocabulary rarely drops to anything below debonair, and hearing him dissolve into debauchery sends a dark thrill up your spine.

Your breath is no more than a little more than stuttered gasps as Zemo grinds his hips up, slowly inching himself in. It feels like you’re pulling apart at the very seams of your being, your world blackening around the edges and zeroing in on the way Zemo’s cock twitches inside you. His girth starts to hurt a bit, buried to the hilt, but nonetheless igniting a fire in your belly. Zemo presses his nose and lips against the line of your cheekbone, mouthing kisses over your flushed skin and parted lips. His breath is sharp. Tense.

"Good?" He rasps, grabbing firm handfuls of your ass. You nod shakily, shivering when he twitches inside you again, clearly struggling against the urge to throw all caution to the wind and fuck you mindlessly. “You feel heavenly.”

You preen under his complement and lift up slow, shallow little jumps of your hips that hardly satisfy. Experimenting with the catch and drag of his cock splitting through your folds. It’s hypnotic watching the sight of you taking the entire length of his thick cock in and out between your splayed legs. Your arousal drips onto the groomed thatch of dark hair covering the base of him. 

Zemo sighs as your hands plant themselves on his stomach, pushing his shirt up to reveal more of the lean muscle of his middle. He seems to have the same idea. Zemo slides his hands up your middle and finds the swell of your tits under your shirt. He doesn’t even bother taking your bra off either, just shoves his palms up under the wiring and fondling your breasts. You clench around him as his fingers toy with your nipples, the pace of your fucking amping up to a speed that has you scrabbling to latch onto his shoulders. 

“When you wore that dress in Madripoor…” Zemo starts, a dark strand of his hair falling across his forehead. His brows are furrowed, wrestling his words into something coherent. “I could not stop looking at your breasts. I was—shit—was tempted to invite you to bed that night.” 

The admission only adds to your need. “Why didn’t you?” 

He pinches your nipples, rolling the hardened buds between his fingertips. You muffle your cry by biting down on your tongue. Fuck—he knows exactly how to touch you, how to fuck you into a quickly spiraling stupor. You’d give him anything he asked for in these fleeting minutes. 

Zemo’s grip drops to your gyrating hips, aiding by roughly pulling you forward and back,  driving into you roughly. His cock fills you perfectly, scraping against every spot that makes you sing and melt. Zemo answers you with a deep, taking kiss. “I was lucky to even look—your bodyguards are fearsome, and I value a full set of teeth.”   

He’s not wrong. Sam and Bucky are always hovering, within arms reach—two terrible foes that gave every suitor a glare that entailed a horrific fate beyond just punching their lights out. It’s Steve’s fault—it’s no secret he was fiercely protective over you—no surprise that it rubbed off on his two best friends. Sam especially—fuck, you can’t even go on a fucking date without him accidentally crashing it or digging up some obscure file on them. Your gut flips with dread. You wonder what he’d think of this. Zemo balls deep inside you—and you’re enjoying it—    

Zemo jostles your chin. “Come back to me, moja lastovička.”  

Your eyes snap to his. Zemo’s hand drops between you, deft fingers finding your swollen clit. You don’t realize how close you’d been hovering on the edge—spiraling down into a vortex of an orgasm that zips through your veins, consuming you entirely. Your back arches, as your hips snap viciously against his, chasing after those final tidbits of friction you need to set every single one of your nerves ablaze and singing. Sitting over his lap, the taught pale, skin of Zemo’s groin scrapes sinfully against your clit with every unbridled buck of your hips, spots of lightning hot pleasure zinging behind your eyes. To save yourself from being too loud, you mold your lips to his, cry into his mouth as you tremble son Zemo’s cock. Euphoria floods your very soul, yanking you off the precarious edge of sensible thought and lunacy.   

The second you fall limp, Zemo pounces. In a dizzying display of speed, Zemo rolls you onto your back, flat against the couch. He pulls out sharply, lifts up your legs and throws them over his shoulders, all but folding you in half. He slides back inside, your cunt still slick and sore. You whine and scratch at his back in some weak attempt to protest or encourage him, you don't fucking know. Zemo rests his full weight against you, swinging his hips freely, in search for his own high. Between the light slapping of his thighs meeting your ass and your uncontrollable squeaks of pleasure, Zemo thrusts two of his fingers into your mouth to quiet you. 

“Hush, little songbird,” he purrs against your ear, grunting as your tongue slides between his fingers. “Your friends will hear.”

You have half a mind to just say fuck it and deal with the consequences later—but you know better. So does he.   

His thrusts later into an erratic pace, and with a snarl he’s shoving himself deep inside of you as he cums. Sharp pain bursts upon the side of your neck as Zemo’s teeth pinch the delicate skin—you’re lucky if he doesn’t break skin. Your previous high has you still floating in the clouds, drifting on endorphins, but it's impossible to miss the subtle swell and twitch of his cock, and the liquid heat that now coats your insides. Zemo trials his warm tongue over the indents of his teeth as if in apology, and tenderly maneuvers your legs off his narrow shoulders. He removes his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop and kisses your cheek sweetly. 

You hiss as he pulls his softening cock out of your abused hole, wincing as a mix of his cum and your wetness trickle out. Zemo’s eyes are transfixed upon the mess. “You have a towel or something—“

When you try to close your legs Zemo tuts and pulls your legs wider by pushing against your knee. You shutter as he runs a digit through your slit, pushing globs of his pearly white cum back into your cunt. “Better.”

Before you can ask what that means, the Baron slides to the floor, hooks his arms around your thighs and yanks your ass off the side of the couch. Oh my god—he’s gonna kill you. His hot breath fans over your pussy as he uses his thumbs to glide through your slick folds, devotional with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds. 

“Next time,” Zemo rasps darkly, “you will beg for me.“

You bite your lip and arch—Zemo’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit, licking you clean. Zemo sucks on your little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re choking on sobs, raw molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his soft hair—shit. 

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons—the current of a river, even on its surface but deadly and treacherous the deeper you swim. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.   

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—that this is only a dream. It very well might be.

Your nails harpoon into the couch as Zemo strokes and curls the tip of his tongue over you, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. It’s concerning how good he is at this—

Zemo lifts the hood of your clit up with his thumb and zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery. You’re careening towards another end, his eagerness to devour you amping up the influx of your pleasure. 

“Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue deeper into your dripping hole. 

Your release rips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your orgasm seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through your muddled thoughts and remember where exactly you are—who you are. 

Vaguely, you feel Zemo manipulate you into the spot you were in earlier, laying atop his chest. He pulls that stupid coat of his that smells like his cologne around your shoulders and tucks your head under his chin. He runs his fingers through your hair and begins to hum a quiet tune in that raspy timbre of his.  

“You have a pretty voice,” you slur, fighting sleep. 

He hums and plants a kiss onto the top of your head. “You are not so mean when you’ve been properly fucked.” 

“M’not mean,” you retort. 

“Of course not, lastovička.” 

There’s that word again. You work your jaw. “What does that word mean?”

Zemo shifts under you, heartbeat kicking up a beat or two before settling down. He runs a hand down your covered arms. Zemo doesn’t answer for a while—bruised fist clutching onto the remains of an evanescent dream in which these moments are not sparing. You both watch as the soft silver moonlight seeps into the room, distorted by the stained glass, painting patches of your skin ruby red and midnight blue. Just like the watery moonlight, the pulsing ache seeps into your ivory bones while his ethanol dipped fear seeps into the depths of his nimble mind. Strike a match and he will burst into flames and you will disintegrate into ash. 

Zemo thumbs at the cartilage of your ear, delicately twisting the two metal bands pierced into your skin. He inhales deeply, the exhale disturbing stray hairs on the top of your head. “My little swallow.”  

What does it mean to miss something you’ve never had? 

Decaying dreams bleed into the wilting flowerbeds of the past. He can never be yours and you can never be his. You’ve always had a tender heart—no matter how you dress it with barbed wire and rusty switchblades. Your heat still melts, cracks into a million pieces wether it’s made of cardiac muscle or steel. He’s named you swallow, a flying black star, a small warm-breasted piece of what people label as an omen of luck. You’ve finally come to realize that hope for doomed fates do not exist where there is no light. No chance. No luck.   

But there’s always darkness in things—the moon, the sea, the early light. There’s no love to be had here—but you can feel the stirrings of it in another lifetime. The idea of it is devastating and equally revolting. He’s revolting. 

Your throat cinches. You move to leave but he stops you.   

“Stay with me, lastovička,” Zemo whispers, edging on a beg. “Just for a while longer.”

You do.       

a/n: ok hi this fic is very self indulgent and very long overdue but oh well lmfao please enjoy and lmk if I missed any tags!