#my arms r so sore from my sets yesterday but the show must go on

[transheimdall]

goooood morning gaynation . (it is nearly 5pm)

[the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo]

Missed Opportunities | Helmut Zemo x Reader | Chapter 4

Good morning, afternoon, evening fam. Hope you all are doing good.

Here's the next installment of Missed Opportunities. There's one chapter left. Hopefully this one will be enough to tide you over to the finale.

Thank you for all the continued support. Love you all.

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@ajeff855 @vrsidae @greeneyedblondie44 @bbakugaan03 @somethingthatsaysbubbles @lieutenantn @aisling1985 @fillechatoyante @maria-chwan @neoarchipelago @lostghostgirl94 @whovianayesha @mochminnie @fanfics-ig @congurl @ay0nha

Did I miss someone? For future tag requests: Please send me a direct message if possible, it’s easy to lose people in the mix and I don’t want to miss anyone!

For previous chapters go here: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Word Count: 2,462

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You were violently woken up in the middle of the night. At some point, during the early hours of the morning, you must have rolled over onto your side. The movement caused your bruised body to send a jolt of stinging pain to your brain, immediately causing you to jerk awake.

You squeezed your eyes shut and took deep breaths to ride out the wave of agony. After the pain subsided, you let out a small groan and attempted to situate yourself again. You failed to find any real rest after that incident and faded in and out of sleep until you could see dawn about to break. Through your restlessness, you thought you could hear faint murmurs and reassurances in your ear.

Delirium must have set in, because when you woke up for good this time, you realized you had a blanket covering your body and a heaviness on your left hand.

You lolled your head to the side to avoid the faint rays of sunlight streaming into the room. You blinked several times before peering down at your hand, which you now noticed, was being held by another person.

Remembering the previous night's events, your eyes travelled up the arm of the person holding your hand, tracking all the way until you landed on the person's face.

Zemo.

He was still here with you and apparently had fallen asleep during the night.

You swallowed thickly and not because of the throbbing pain coursing through you. Your eyes flicked up to the nightstand to see the book he was reading placed neatly at the corner.

He chose to stay.

Your eyes moved back to look at Zemo. To really look at him. He seemed so much younger in his sleep. The tense concentration lining the features of his face each day were gone. The weight of his decisions and promises he made to himself given a reprieve. You wondered when the last time was he truly slept.

For all the wrongs he had done, the choices he had made, he did so out of grief and love. He's a complicated man to be sure. For all his darkness, there is still a light that shines brightly in him.

Though you disagreed with his methods of avenging his family, you knew from his actions, that when Helmut Zemo loved, he loved with his entire being. There was no question about it.

For this one moment, you decided to give in. You softly brushed your thumb back and forth against the skin of the hand holding yours. If you could give him one brief second of comfort, you hoped it was this.

You smiled to yourself as you watched Zemo snuffle in his slumber and unconsciously tighten his grip on your hand, but not uncomfortably.

You had the irrational urge to run your fingers through his hair, but he was sitting too far out of your reach. So you settled for continuing to stroke gentle touches along his hand.

His presence was calming. Safe. There was no where else you wanted to be right now.

You looked up to the ceiling to glance at the digital clock projecting the time. 5:42AM. Definitely too early. You wondered if Bucky and Sam had returned from their outing last night.

If you were to guess, you'd think not, because they most likely wouldn't have allowed Zemo to stay with you the whole evening.

You twist your neck up to the night stand and tried to grab your phone with your bad arm. It wasn't your best idea. You had full range of motion again since Bucky popped your shoulder back into place, but the soreness was downright breath-taking, and coupled with your ribs, you were wheezing with effort to retrieve the phone.

Your finger tips manage to grab the edge of the phone. You attempted to scoot it closer to you so you could grip it better. Unfortunately, you ended up clumsily knocking the phone onto the floor with a clatter, arousing your companion out of his sleep.

Zemo snapped to attention immediately. With his years of military experience, it would disappoint you if he didn't.

He quickly assessed the room before his gaze landed on you. The tension in his body released once he realized there was no threat. His eyes dropped to the hand he was holding.

You could see his brow furrow in confusion, as if he didn't know how his hand got to be where it currently was. Zemo tilted his head in thought, eyes never leaving where your hands were joined together. You could see an indecisiveness written across his face. After a beat, he seemed to resign himself to whatever was running through his mind, because he sighed heavily and gave a sad smile. Then he gently lifted your arm towards him to place a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

"Hi," you shyly responded. Zemo's kiss was just the barest brush of his lips against your skin, but it was electric all the same. You were too stunned by his action to do or say anything else except stare.

"Morning," he rasped quietly. His voice was still riddled with the remnants of someone who had just woken up. He brought your hand back to the bed as he made a move to sit up in his chair more appropriately, "How are you feeling?"

You cleared your throat and licked your lips as you take stock of your injuries before answering him, "Been better. Could have been a lot worse."

"That's not what I asked," he said, clearly unimpressed with your attempt to dodge answering him properly.

"I'm in pain; however, it is manageable," you answer him honestly. You felt he deserved that for having stayed with you the entire evening, and you didn't want him feeling guilty over whatever it was that was eating at him.

You maneuvered yourself to swing your legs over the bed captiously and sort out your stiff limbs without making any sudden quick movements. Zemo silently held out his arm in an offer of assistance, should you need it.

"Are Sam and Bucky not back yet? I can't imagine they would let you stay here and watch over me," you glanced at Zemo, trying to make light of the heaviness hanging in the room. You used your good arm to brace yourself on the nightstand next to you to push off of and stand up.

Zemo lowered his arm and stood up from his seat once he saw you were okay to move about on your own. You saw him turn his head towards the door which was cracked opened slightly before facing you fully.

"They did come back briefly early this morning to check on you. And you are correct, James did, in fact, kick me out, but both he and Sam left again for a few hours. They should be making their return soon. I must have dozed off at some point when I came back to check on you, so thank you for waking me. I would like to avoid a confrontation from either Sam or James," Zemo worded carefully.

You felt as if he were leaving something out, but decided against calling him out on it.

"I appreciate you staying, but you didn't really need to," you replied earnestly, shrugging a shoulder.

"On the contrary, I am the reason you are in the state you are in. It was the very least I could do," Zemo said.

You knitted your brow together and moved to look at Zemo more closely. Lips pursed, it was your turn to be confused.

"I'm not following. You weren't even here when everything went down with Walker yesterday," you expressed slowly and hesitantly.

Maybe it was just too early in the morning to have sensible conversation.

Zemo shook his head and stepped close enough that you could smell his cologne again. He raised his hand to trace the bruise forming across your collarbone.

"Walker was searching for me. And you, you put yourself in harm's way to protect me, indirectly as it was. Whatever your reasonings were, I cannot remember the last time someone was willing to show such an act of resilience, of kindness towards me. And for that, I owe you my deepest and most sincere thanks," Zemo clarified to you. It did not go unnoticed the hidden layer of emotion laced in his voice as he spoke to you.

You could have just brushed his comment off with an excuse that Walker was such a pain in the ass, you refused to give him up on the preface you simply wanted to piss him off.

But that would be a lie, mostly.

Instead you grabbed Zemo's hand, the one that was tracing your battle scars from the previous day and lifted it high enough so that you could wrap your right arm lightly around his torso and your left arm around his shoulders and into a hug.

As you snuggled up against him, careful not to disrupt your injuries, you turned your head so that your nose barely touched his jaw and whispered into his ear, "You're welcome."

Unlike the first hug the two of you shared, there were no death grips this time. This hug held so much more. An acceptance of one another. A promise.

Reluctantly, you untangled yourself from Zemo to peer up at him.

His gaze roamed over your face, searching. He brought his hand back up to rub his thumb gently over your cheek.

He had that look on his face again. The one that looked like he was fighting with himself about something. Then you saw his eyes drop to your lips and back up to your eyes.

Oh.

You leaned into his touch ever so slightly. This was probably a very bad idea, and you shouldn't let this continue.

"Zemo," you breathed.

He dropped his head against yours and dragged the tip of his nose down the bridge of yours.

"Helmut. You can call me Helmut," he murmured.

Your hands were flat against his chest and you hesitate lifting your head to close remaining distance between you to kiss him.

"Helmut," you voiced, the soft resonance of your vocals floating through the room.

You saw him shut his eyes, a small twitch of his lips curl in an upward motion before he opened them again.

He must have sensed your hesitation because he drew back, but only enough to get a read on your face.

"I apologize, I shouldn't have -" he started rambling, dropping his head to reprimand himself.

You draw your hands up from his chest to his neck to prevent him from stepping away. You needed to make sure he understood.

"No, Helmut. That's not - this is okay, I just -" you paused, giving yourself a moment to make sure you word what you want to say to him next properly.

"I can see the conflicted look on your face. I just - I would never," you trailed off, gathering some courage, you drew in a deep breath before continuing, "I would never want to put you in a position where you felt that you were disrespecting the memory of your wife."

There. You had said it. Zemo had been through so much and you couldn't let him kiss you if he still felt like he would betray the memories of his family.

Even if it were for one brief and fleeting moment between you two, you couldn't do that to him. And you wanted him to make peace with everything on his terms, and not just for the emotional roller-coaster you're on, whatever it may be that lies between you both.

You felt him stiffen in his stance, clearly not expecting you to say something like that to him.

He looked at you for a few moments before twisting his head to stare out the window. He had dipped his head in contemplation and turned back to you.

You could feel him shutter a few deep breaths and when you met his gaze again there were tears glistening in his eyes.

His mouth opened and closed, but no words had come out. You could see him struggling with what he wanted to say.

"It's okay. You don't owe me any answers right now," you said. You tried to give him a reassuring smile.

Zemo huffed as he blinked back his tears and shook his head.

"Schatz. You truly are a piece of work," he said, a mixture of amusement and awe heard in his voice.

Zemo opened his mouth to say something else, but you heard the entrance to the apartment open and the voices of Sam and Bucky trailing.

You both turned your head to the door in mild alarm. Without much time, as you're sure one of your friends will be making a bee line to check on you, you start to unzip Zemo's hoodie you went to sleep with last night.

Helmut's eyebrows shot into his hairline and his eyes widened in shock at your undressing in front of him.

You give him an outrageous expression, as you carefully remove your injured arm from the garment and then your other, before handing it to him.

He took the garment hesitantly, a look of confusion on his face.

"An excuse as to why you were in my room, as I'm sure they are going to want to know why you're still in here. There's no way one of them won't spot you leaving. At least you'll have a good reason," you explained rapidly, trying to keep your voice from reaching Bucky's ears.

Zemo nodded in agreement at your cleverly crafted plan, and moved to exit the room. He paused at the door and looked back to you. You could tell he wanted to say something before leaving.

Later. You mouthed to him.

He sighed, but you knew he understood this wasn't the right time to have an extended conversation.

You saw him poke his head out the door before ducking back in to give you a mischievous expression.

You narrowed your eyes at his sudden mood change.

He left your room and could hear him faintly walk down the hall. You turned to walk to your in-suite bathroom when you heard a large clatter and shout from Sam.

"Bucky!"

"It wasn't me! you heard Bucky reply.

There was a snicker and then a door closing from not too far away.

"Zemo!" You heard both Sam and Bucky shout this time. Foot steps followed and some banging on the door down the hall. Hushed whispers could be heard after that.

You continued your journey to a nice shower and some pain killers. Yup. Never a dull moment around these guys.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 9 of love is the only thing we can carry with us (kristanna slowburn/angsty but cute/no magic au, rated t) is up! next chapter // all chapters

Elsa looked at her sister’s back, hating herself for what she was about to say.

“Do you have feelings for that man?”

Anna, who had been busily pouring two cups of tea, paused, the teapot suspended in midair. It was all the answer Elsa needed. She hadn’t needed to ask in the first place, really; the radiant smile on Anna’s face as she’d come up the hill had told her everything.

chapter 9: fears

Elsa looked at her sister’s back, hating herself for what she was about to say.

“Do you have feelings for that man?”

Anna, who had been busily pouring two cups of tea, paused, the teapot suspended in midair. It was all the answer Elsa needed. She hadn’t needed to ask in the first place, really; the radiant smile on Anna’s face as she’d come up the hill had told her everything.

Anna set down the teapot with a decided thunk, loud enough that Elsa winced, half expecting it to break. “Why do you care?”

“Because I’m your sister.”

Anna stirred sugar into both cups of tea, her shoulders stiff. “He has a name, you know.”

“Mr. Bjorgman--”

“Kristoff.”

Elsa sighed heavily. “Kristoff should know better than to take you traipsing around the mountains.”

It was the sort of thing her father would have said. She didn’t know if that made it the right thing.

“Why?” her sister challenged, chin raised in defiance. 

Because he knows what’s wrong with you. Because overdoing it just once could kill you. Because I saw the way you looked at each other, and that’s not part of the plan.

“Because you’re a princess, and he’s...well, he’s just a man from the mountains.”

“I happen to like these mountains.”

Elsa pinched the bridge of her nose; this was going nowhere. “You know what I mean.”

Anna’s face was screwed up tight; angry as she was, she was fighting back tears. She had always been an angry crier, always expressed her frustration through a wave of hot teardrops rolling down her cheeks. “He’s my friend, Elsa.”

“Just a friend?”

“Jesus, Elsa, yes, okay?”

It was Elsa’s turn to frown; Anna had always been spirited and unafraid of an argument, but there was a new edge to this anger, something as brittle as it was sharp. 

“I’m sorry,” she said hesitantly. “I didn’t want to upset you. I’m just...worried.”

Anna crossed her arms. “You’re more worried about me making friends than you are about me marrying a guy from another country. A guy I don’t even know.”

“You can say no, Anna, this isn’t the Middle Ages.”

“But that would mess up the plan, wouldn’t it?”

“It might,” Elsa admitted. “You know how long our father worked on settling this alliance. Arendelle is in a weak position right now, with only two surviving members of our family. The Southern Isles are able to provide us with the economic and military backing we need. This marriage cements that alliance, joins our countries together. It’ll bring sorely needed stability.”

Anna looked away from her then. She knew all of this. It was the same speech their father’s advisors had been giving them ever since their parents’ untimely passing. Elsa, floundering in her newfound role as queen, had latched onto it as the next right step-- but only after asking if it were possible for her to be the one to marry into the Westergaard family instead.

It wasn’t; according to their laws, to do so would mean she forfeited the crown and her titles, effectively handing Arendelle over like a treat to a slavering dog. And so the burden had fallen on Anna, as it so often seemed to. At first, she had accepted it cheerfully, proclaiming that she was grateful to have a prince found for her instead of having to do all the hard work of looking for herself. If she had ever thought otherwise, she had never made her thoughts known to her elder sister, not that she would have had a chance to; they hadn’t been particularly close since they were small, and Elsa had used her coronation as an excuse to pull even further away from her sister.

She hated herself for it, knew it was the coward’s way out of dealing with the mess their parents had left them in. She was the guardian now, of Anna and of the secret, and that thought terrified her more than negotiating trade deals and managing diplomatic relations. 

More than once, she had wanted to just tell Anna, explain the whole damn story like it should have been in the first place. To do so would give Anna the answers she had been seeking since she was a child, would finally open up the chance to melt the wall of ice between them, would change absolutely everything.

But every time she told herself she was finally going to do it, she saw her father’s face as he had knelt down to explain to her that her little sister was on death’s door. She could still see Anna lying in her bed, so tiny and so pale she looked like a forgotten little ghost. She remembered hearing her parents whisper when they had thought she was asleep.

They had tucked her in bed an hour ago, but it was impossible to sleep without the steady background noise of Anna’s little snores. Elsa found herself now with her ear pressed to the solid wood of her parents’ bedroom door, hoping to finally understand what was going on.

“She must have caught it from playing with Elsa.”

“But why is it so much worse?”

Her father sighed. “The doctor said it’s progressed faster anyway because she’s younger, but...we didn’t catch it in time. We were so focused on Elsa…”

Elsa ran away as fast as her little legs could carry her, all the way down the hall to the big room, the one that was supposed to be for company. And now there was lots of company, but Anna was the one who stayed in the big room and slept in the big bed. She was alone in there now. Anna didn’t like to sleep alone. She liked to know her big sister was right there in case she had a nightmare.

Elsa wondered if she was having nightmares now. The thought frightened her; Anna had been asleep for so long. What if she got stuck in one?

She had to stand on her tiptoes to peer over the edge of the bed and see her sister. Her hands were the same color as the sheets, but her cheeks were red, like she had just gotten in trouble for something. Elsa wanted to take her hand, but she knew she wasn’t allowed to touch Anna, not while she was like this. She wasn’t even supposed to be in here. She didn’t care.

“I’m here, Anna,” she whispered, her little voice thick with tears. “I’ll always be here.”

How many times had she broken that promise over the years? 

Anna was sipping her tea, still resolutely refusing to make eye contact. Elsa cleared her throat. 

“You...you do look well, by the way,” she said, managing a small smile. “Being in the mountain air seems to have done a lot to help you.”

“Yes, the air,” Anna said drily.

“And it’s beautiful up here, all the wildflowers…”

Anna finally flicked her eyes in Elsa’s direction, just for a moment. “How much do you like them?”

“Oh, I think they might make it into my happy ever after.”

A grin spread across Anna’s face, and Elsa felt herself smile, too, relieved to be back in familiar territory, the language of their childhood, the bond they had built on shared, silly dreams. 

“Me, too. And the place we saw today, I...I think you would have liked that too.”

“Maybe you can show me sometime,” Elsa said. “Next time I visit?”

Anna’s smile faded. “I don’t know. Kristoff is the one who showed me the way.”

Elsa fidgeted with her skirt. “It’s not that I dislike him, Anna. I just...worry about you.”

“Everyone always worries about me. Even when there’s absolutely no reason to.”

“Point taken. Maybe...maybe it is good that you’ve got a friend up here, since I can’t be here with you.”

Anna just nodded. Elsa reached over and squeezed her hand. After a moment, Anna squeezed back. 

It was something, at least.

---

The next morning when she met with Kristoff and his grandfather, she was frostier than ever, hoping to hide the way she felt suddenly off-balance, like she was midway through taking a step and was unsure where to place her foot. 

She found it especially hard to focus on the younger man without remembering him the way he had looked yesterday with Anna on his arm. It had been as if nothing else existed for him, as if she was the axis of his world; the glow of her expression had been reflected back in his smile.

She pitied them both, knowing it would have to end someday for some reason or another, even if Anna did decide to break off her engagement. Princesses didn't just marry rough-hewn men from mountain villages.. She had hoped that by talking with the both of them she might be able to root it out before it ever blossomed, but judging by Anna’s reaction, the tragedy would run its course regardless of her attempts at interference.

They were seated at worn kitchen table. Kristoff was drumming his fingers against the wood, keeping his expression carefully blank, though she could see by his eyes he was nervous. She couldn’t blame him after what she’d said to him the evening before.

“Your sister has improved by leaps and bounds since coming here,” the old man was explaining. “As important as rest is for her, I believe that perhaps my grandson has the right idea in letting her get small bursts of exercise. They seem to strengthen both her body and spirit.”

“I thought your grandson would no longer have anything to do with Anna’s care,” she replied coolly.

“He is seeing to other matters now, yes. But, your majesty, the princess has improved so much that I believe she no longer needs his dedicated attention.”

“And yet she seems to be getting it anyway,” she snapped.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Finally the older man spoke, his tone equally as cold. “If you are unhappy with your sister’s remarkable recovery, then by all means, take her home.”

“I wouldn’t call it recovery. We all know she isn’t fully out of the woods.”

“And she never will be. But progress is progress, is it not?”

Elsa stood. “I suppose that remains to be seen. Anna will stay in the mountains for now. Gentlemen, I bid you good day.”

She climbed into her carriage outdoors, head held high, and pulled the curtains closed in all four windows, hiding her face in case they were watching her go. Still, she waited until she was halfway down the mountain before she allowed herself to bury her face in her hands and weep.