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cherryblossomtease · 2 years

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summary- Crossing nearly every line with your married boss was never your intention, but when Helmut Zemo is the one signing your paychecks, and his husband is Bucky Barnes, all bets are off.

warnings- 18+ only —UNDER 18 ARE NOT WELCOME — Dom Zemo with Alpha vibes, bi-Zemo, boss Zemo, sprinkled with a daddy kink, boss/employee relationship, claiming, lace panties, public claiming?, punishment, humiliation, shaming, sub-reader, falling in love, moral dilemmas, Dom Bucky, sub Bucky, Bi-Bucky, Alpha Bucky energy, I think I have a scent kink? Size kink, oral, denial, cheating/implied cheating, yes— you read that right. If you’re sensitive to the topic in it’s many possible forms this might not be the story for you 🖤

an: Are dim fics a thing? Because this isn’t exactly dark, but it’s no fluff piece either. I don’t know what mood I was in when I started, but I’ll say this, it was a joy to write such trash and I’d do it again. Enjoy the first part. I’ve linked the rest of the story where it’s posted here on AO3

PROLOGUE

This tension has been building for weeks.

To many highly charged moments from each day, stacking on top of one another to apply pressure at a steady pace you should be used to by now.

In some ways you are, but there’s just something about this day. It’s leading towards more.

You can feel how the waiting is different now and it’s starting to drive you mad.

You grip the edge of the long, unused conference table and close your eyes.

Your hips roll the tiniest bit as you lean forward, tucking your chin, opening your eyes, parting your lips.

Yes you're sick of waiting, but you would be lying if you said you weren't wet.

The little pulse between your legs is involuntary; you feel how it dampens the cotton center of the high-cut lace under your dress and imagine a small dark spot in the fabric. You almost wore a black pair. You're happy you chose lavender.

What is it about forced isolation? It gets you there so quickly.

You're far from everything on the thirty-sixth floor, hidden away in this dim corner of an otherwise bustling hotel.

You clench those muscles, release— sigh.

If only he would get here.

You roll your eyes with a pointless huff. Your contempt for patience in a corporate setting wasted on the sterile room with its drab grey walls, this engineered table trying to pass as wood, and empty ergonomic chairs that someone actually got paid to design.

There are rich and famous people below you, dressing and drinking, laughing and getting ready for the night, while you wait in your tower; the princess assistant willingly cut off from it all in perfect makeup, immaculate hair, a little black dress to die for and the killer heels to match. Where is the dragon? You sure as shit aren't waiting for a prince.

Dropping your hips and leaning against the table, you glance at your phone beside you.

No text, and it's getting late. The event is going to start soon. The only reason any of you have flown across the country to be here and still, the closer that digital clock ticks towards 5:45— the more you want this.

What has he done to you. Baron Zemo—your boss—the menace behind your torment. You shake your head having a silent laugh because it's all you can do.The man is cunning, brilliant— fine as hell, and he knows it.

You grin because he could waltz in here, tell you to sit for ten more minutes, and you would— you fucking would.

You hide that toothy excitement behind your fingertips, biting at your thumb with all the giddy nerves of a woman guilty of wanting a man like this one.

Some days you want to say no to him and leave, but resisting your natural pull to Zemo is about as likely to happen as not needing air to breathe.

Occasionally you strain your ears to listen for the sound of his footsteps because you know he will come. But for now you wait.

It wasn't always like this. When you first came to work for the Baron you didn't dare read too much into the meaningless flirtations because the risk far outweighed the reward.

And then it didn't.

Still, the possibility of being rejected by him was unthinkable.

And then, two weeks ago, it wasn't.

Two weeks ago, the possibility was completely obliterated.

Just you and him, in an elevator, after a hotel press conference — how convenient.

Three floors up and looks were exchanged.

By the sixth he took your hand.

By the tenth you knew.

He'd closed in on you, stroked your cheek, looked into your eyes, tilted his head just a bit and sighed because the inevitable had finally happened.

You thought he wanted to kiss you, and maybe he had, but instead he'd gently pushed your chin down with his thumb, opened your mouth enough to slide his index finger between your teeth and touched your tongue. You still remember your sound of surprise that made his eyes shut and his jaw clench, the muscles working as his grip on your face tightened.

He was holding back.

Withdrawing his finger Helmut wet your lips in a smooth, slow circle before pulling his hand away as you reached the top floor.

The doors opened and he stepped out, his firm touch still hot on your skin.

You did not follow him because you could not move...

That elevator was the beginning.

Afterwards, the nature of your, unconventional encounters, makes it very clear the sort of man your boss really is. His tastes awaken wants and needs you were unaware of —these kinks that thrill you with little more than a look and a few whispered words— The fact that you find yourself falling for him, not in spite of but possibly aided by these dark delights, is not lost on you. Sometimes all you can do is laugh at your overly dramatic life as of late.

Taboo.

It's a hell of a word but fitting.

He is your boss, and by all accounts, still somewhat dangerous.

He is also married to a beautiful man.

Your heart flutters fast as a deck of cards being shuffled.

What will his husband say?

You can't think of this. You can't think of anything but the progression between the two of you over the last few weeks and how it's intensified.

You cross your arms, turning your back to the table.

It's funny; you'd been anticipating his groping hands and tongue down your throat like any other man.

Instead, you were given more responsibility as assistant to his assistant with tasks too impossible to complete.

Every time you fail, you find yourself sitting on the oxblood leather sofa in his home office completely alone.

The first time you'd squirmed around, confused and uncomfortable, looking over your shoulder at the shut door until he came back and casually dismissed you, watching you awkwardly leave.

The second time, he came in, locked eyes with you, and told you to get up and leave.

You'd smiled then, fairly certain you understood, and he, for all his natural dominance, smiled back.

It is the control over you as much as it is the restraint within himself.

You'd nearly passed out from the thrill as you walked down the hall.

The third time, he stayed in the room at the start of your five minutes.

He did not get up; he simply sat at his desk and watched.

You stared into his eyes for as long as you could stand until you felt the deep, unmistakable throb become a pulse that grew until you parted your knees for him ever so slightly. He watched as you gripped the edge of the cushion, trying desperately not to cum on his imported couch.

The end of your five minutes spared you the agony.

"You may go." That was all he said.

Such a strong sense of reserve while doing things that leave you gasping for air and the man has not even kissed you yet…

Fuck you're going mad waiting in this room. He knows it too. The shit.

You look around the tiny conference space.

You're fidgeting where you stand, afraid to move.

He never told you to stay still, but something in his tone made it very clear he expects you to be ready when he does come for you.

You let your head relax back, hand sliding down your neck. You smile thinking of his gentle demands. If this is how it is when he's never done more than touch your mouth and toy with you, what happens when you do cross the line?

Because you know it's coming.

Actually, you'd thought it was happening last night, poor thing.

After goodnights were said to the rest of the red carpet team, you'd left for your room down the hall.

The keycard was against the lock when you felt him at your back.

A former EKO Scorpio colonel? Of course he'd snuck up on you.

Left hand slipped between your arm and waist, palm to your stomach he pulled you back, that voice soft in your ear, his tone direct.

"I'll ask you once."

You could only stand there wide eyed.

"Yes or no?"

"What?" You'd started to turn, but his right hand was against the door frame boxing you in, the other arm still keeping you close. He was much stronger than you'd realized.

"Yes or no?"

You could smell him, feel him, hear him. You swore you could taste him. "Yes?"

"Is that a question?" He'd asked, loosening his hold. He did not want you if you did not want him.

"No!" You'd quickly replied. "Yes! I mean. Yes. The answer is yes."

His soft laughter at your eager reply made you duck your chin, trying to hide the brushstroke of heat across your cheeks.

"Alright." He assured you. "Goodnight."

You tried to stop him from taking the key card out of your hand but he did it with such ease you could only laugh as he opened the door and gently pushed you inside.

You'd thought he would follow.

His sly smile and the way he tucked your key into his shirt pocket was the last thing you saw as the hotel door swung shut.

Confused, flustered, and straight up angry with his arrogance— you slid your hand down your pants and came on your fingers as you whispered his name.

So, no. He hadn't come to you for sex last night, but, the word makes you shiver like you're back in high school. You run your tongue over your bottom lip like a hungry virgin and smile with a sigh remembering how it felt to be "locked in" by him. Like a thing kept. You could have opened your door and walked away, but instead you’d showered, put on your pajamas and slept soundly.

It was perfect.

So now you're thinking back through today. Did you mess up somehow? Fail at some menial task? What's earned you this level of punishment?

The event is just about an hour away. You really should be working. Up until he followed you over to the bar in the room and told you where to go, you had been. People will be looking for you. This is really cutting it close.

Fuck. You tap your phone for the time.

Why does this turn you on even more?

Your light laughter is the first sound you've heard since you shut the door behind you, but this is wild. You're going to lose your job while you wait for your boss.

You've already spent the day pretending like there's nothing between you. It's what you've been doing for so long you're starting to forget what life without secrets is like and now you'll have to explain this one away.

Maybe you should start auditioning in your off time– if he'll give you any– you've gotten so good at faking it.

And then, without warning– the door is tossed open.

Zemo does not give you a moment to speak.

You step away from the table and back from him with a deep breath held high in your lungs.

In a mad dash across the short distance, he crashes into you, spinning you around—his sigh of relief along your neck making you do the same— and the waiting is over…

It's so fast.

You have just a few minutes.

After being alone in the quiet dark, he is a burst of energy and he is warm, and solid.

You close your eyes and sink into the moment.

His strong hands are unforgiving. One closes around your throat from behind.

The sound of your shaking breath fills the room as he does what he wants, which is to bend you forward just a little, toss your black dress up over your ass, let the air touch your skin while he admires the view and then pull your underwear down below the curve– right and left cheek in turn— until the lace is stretched taught by your upper thighs.

He's never done anything like this before. He's never seen any of your bare parts. You turn your head feeling anxious, but he quickly lets go of your neck to grab your face and keep you looking forward.

You feel a wash of fear and excitement rush over you. You want him but you had hoped for more than a shitty room reserved for business deals.

"Helmut?" His name is a loaded question that he understands.

He leans in, pressing his face to your profile, "Hush" He sighs, "Not yet."

Your shoulders drop. Of course, he wouldn't, not like this.

But the sound of his dominant hand quickly unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, and with familiar ease, pulling himself free tells you what it might be.

"When you walk that carpet behind me tonight," He starts in your ear,

Is he going to? Will he? Fuck. He is…

"Anyone who sees you and wants you will know. They may not know why, but they'll know."

You swallow hard against the hand returned to your throat, stunned as your fingers dig into the soft cashmere of his black turtleneck and tug at his forearm.

There is a pause, he inhales the scent of you, turning his face to watch what he's doing, and then you feel him start to move. Slow at first but only at first.

There isn't time.

His full fist hits your ass, making it bounce. "That you are claimed. That you are mine."

You open your mouth but no sound comes out. What is there to say?

"You'll do your little job." He says, his words shaking with his breath as he keeps going,

"You'll do it covered in my cum," you both gasp. "Spread against you…" He lets go of your throat and slides his hand over your shoulder and down your back, around to your hip.

Without warning, he reaches to find your velvet soft skin making you give a high pitched yelp.

"Quiet," He scolds as if surprised you would be so noisy.

You bite your lip and shut your eyes tight.

His fingers curve down, cupping you in a way so as not to spread or enter. Just to touch. "I'm going to cover this pussy so there is no mistaking— you belong to me,"

This is what you said yes to last night.

You can't take it and sink back against him with a desperate whimper and he breathes into your sweet approval with a heavy moan. "Do you feel that?" he asks with a long stroke.

Your eyes open. You feel what's in his hand; the hard thick length. Every damn inch held against your ass, soft skin brushing yours as he swipes down leaving a thin line of precum as what? A tease? You smile. It is both shocking after so much restraint and all you want.

"Yes," You answer, quieter than you did before but still just as true.

He groans, drawing back, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, now working towards a finish.

"You're going to take it." He tells you, "Not now. Later. Yes?"

"Yes."

He moans and slips behind you, beating his cock between your parted thighs, holding you close, so close you lay your head back, breathing in time with him, your right hand reaching back, just barely finding the solid muscle of his flexed thigh.

"I'll do anything you want." You whisper, too shy to say so any other time.

Helmut gasps in your ear. You grab his forearm. He makes the softest sound of release.

Your expression mimics his— open mouth, eyes closed, shaking with pleasure.

You however look up to stare out the window at the blue sky as warm shots pool in the waiting lavender lace.

Marked. Claimed. You are his.

Through long heavy breaths he smiles. He rubs the head of his length across your ass and reaches down to take the sides of your underwear and pulls them up, letting the surprisingly large amount of semen spread against your throbbing center.

You quickly pull your dress back down and grab the table to steady yourself.

His cum is on your thighs in seconds.

You spin in your heels and look into Helmut Zemo's eyes.

With a blissed out smile, his eyes half open and dreamy he pats your hip. "Mine," He says, nodding down and you find yourself grinning at his sudden decline in vocabulary. He looks ready to sleep. How adorably unlike him.

You reach up, brush that lock of hair from his eyes and cradle his face, letting him sink into your palm as the warmth settles down your divide, you return the look.

"Yours…" You agree with a slight shrug because it is very true. His and no others. "But, excuse me Baron" You let out a deep breath and step back, back… back…. He looks at you curiously as you make your way to the door, hand resting on the doorknob.

"I'm late for work."

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cherryblossomtease · 2 years

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Me pausing while working on new stories 🖤

gorgeous gorgeous girls read fanfiction for 4 straight hours then daydream about their unhinged villain lover.

#Baron Zemo #Zemo #winterbaron #part of your world #look at this stuff #isn’t he neat #wouldn’t you think my collections complete

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cherryblossomtease · 2 years

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Coolest surprise. I might have a tear or 20 in my eye ☺️ time to start reading!

Black Authors : Check The Original Post for UPDATES!

Here’s a list of Black authors. Masterlists are linked when available. Please send me a dm/ask for other authors recommendation or feel free to add to this list. I’m going to tack this on to my masterlist! Check the original post for updates!

Edit: The reason why I started this list!

Also blogs listed here could be 18+ to 21+

My Masterlist

@marvelmaree - Masterlist

@tgigoldie - Masterlist

@amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes - Masterlist

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@fluoresensitive - Book: On Sundays, She Picked Flowers

@solarfantasies - Poetry

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@daisy-birb - Wattpad - AO3

@princessphilly - Masterlist

@girlygirl14534 / @amyverse - Adventures of Amy Masterlist

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cherryblossomtease · 2 years

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Starting the new year off with a bang 😉

the empress (I)

MY MASTERLIST | PART TWO

this fic is inspired by the Empress card of the Major Arcana of the Tarot

pairing(s): helmut zemo x reader

summary: So You're Babysitting Your Ex's Pet Villain: How to Demoralize Yourself in 8 Easy Steps

words: 7,104

warnings: explicit (18+ MINORS DNI), the smut is in the next part and this is just the buildup so the rating is in fact accurate, past!bucky/reader, reverse beauty and the beast vibes, zemo interacting with animals o'clock, zemo is also scared of snakes, yearning, femdom, dom!reader, sub!zemo, margaret atwood references, bucky barnes is a jealous ex and zemo is the smug knife cat meme, and if you ask me if this was partially inspired by clue (1985) i will tell you no but we all know the truth

additional notes: yes this is a smutty work that I indeed had to cut in half because apparently tumblr doesn't vibe with 12k+ word porn with plots. I am posting part two exactly as the same time as this, because this was posted on AO3 as a single chapter piece in its original format.

taglist blog: @rosemareblogs

“Hers is the wisdom of nature, which understands that all things move in cycles and ripen at the appropriate time.” -Juliet Sharman-Burke, The Mythic Tarot

.I.

“We’re still friends, right?”

You stare down at your phone on the kitchen counter, coffee poised in the air, your brow furrowed so tightly that it nearly hurts. Bucky Barnes’ contact name glares up at you, the time stamp for the phone call reading a solid ten seconds.

“Bucky, you’ve had your head between my thighs. ‘Friends’ is not the term I’d use.”

Bucky audibly clears his throat, and you hear someone shouting something in the background. “So is that a no?”

You sigh as your cat, Artemis, enters the room, mewling pathetically as she hops up onto the counter to investigate your coffee. You give her a nonplussed side eye as you take a sip before she’s able to. “Is there a point to this call, soldier?”

“I need your help.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well, remember when you said if I ever needed a place to lay low, you had some swanky estate up in the mountains?”

Your eyes instinctively glide to the open kitchen window, where the yellow curtain sways with the gentle, damp breeze blowing in from the misty morning. Fog rolls in across the valley, backlit by the rising sun- a picturesque fairytale landscape known only to you.

It’s been years since you came to possess the estate, and you have yet to allow anyone other than the groundskeeper to see it. You’d told Bucky about it once, back when you first acquired it; when you were sure you were going to die, and the prospect of dying alone scared you so entirely that you’d dared to imagine Bucky Barnes sharing it with you.

But that was a long time ago. Back before the Blip.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t do anything.”

“Bucky.”

“What is it with people assuming it’s my fault?” Artemis meows loudly at the phone, and Bucky huffs a laugh. “Is that a cat?”

You lift the phone and step away, leaning on the counter just beside the stovetop. “So what’s definitely not your fault?”

Bucky sighs, and the crackle of movement resounds through the speaker. “I may have an acquaintance that needs a place to stay hidden from public view for a while.”

“Breadcrumbs aren’t going to wash with me, Buck.”

“Okay, fine. I… encouraged Zemo to break out of prison and now he’s on the run. I still need his help but I don’t know when I’ll need it, and I don’t trust anyone else to keep a leash on him.”

You can feel your expression wither and droop almost immediately. It’s too fucking early in the morning for this. “Zemo.”

“... Yes.”

“You helped… Zemo.” You’ve never met the man personally or even seen him in real life, but you knew practically everything there was to know about him.

“I know it sounds bad-”

“You helped the man who literally mind controlled you into attacking the Avengers, who killed King T’Chaka, who bombed the U.N…”

“Yes, I know, I get it!” There’s a loud whirring in the background, like the rushing of jet engines. “I don’t like it either, but he’s useful. If I return him to prison there’s no way I’ll be able to get him out again. He’s just... tricky.”

Your jaw sets with an uncomfortable click. “If you think I’d touch him with a ten foot pole-”

“Empress.”

The word sends a chill through you, like ice water poured down your bare back. “I don’t do that super hero shit anymore. You of all people should know that.”

“I’m not asking you to. But you’re more equipped to handle Zemo than just about anyone I know.”

You pound your fist against the counter beside you, because you know deep down that his flattery is working, despite how much you’re reviled by it.

“God damn it- please.”

That makes you smirk. You can hear the desperation in his voice, and you have to wonder if you’re the only option he’s got. “You always did sound so sweet when you begged.”

You hear him scoff. “You gonna help me?”

“When?”

His relieved exhale sounds a little bit too jovial for your liking. “We can be on the way to you immediately, if you send coordinates.”

You lift the phone, opening your messages as a disenchanted look passes over your face. “I hope to god you don’t make me regret this, Barnes.”

“You’re a peach, doll.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“See you soon.”

.II.

It takes 12 hours for Bucky to text you that he and Zemo are on the ground and headed your way.

By the time the doorbell rings, you’ve been seated on the chaise lounge in the entryway for so long that Artemis has fallen asleep on your lap. Her dozing form perks up just before the bell tolls, and she leaps from your legs before you can even straighten yourself out.

The battle to the door is something like a dance; Artemis skirts around your legs as you try to step in front of her before you open the door, where you can see the silhouettes of two people standing just beyond the antique stained glass window. Eventually you curse and scoop her up in one arm just before you throw open the door, and her claw swipes at you in displeasure.

“Dammit, Missy.”

“I was about to say the same thing to you.” You whip your head around to make uncomfortably direct eye contact with Bucky Barnes. His steel blue eyes stare solidly back at you as he smirks at your deer-in-the-headlights expression, muttering your name with a chuckle like he can’t believe he’s saying it after so long. “You said your house was big, but I wasn’t expecting a castle.”

“Tudor revival. How quaint.”

Bucky jams his elbow back into Baron Helmut Zemo’s ribs. Zemo grunts, looking as though he may double over, but he steels himself with a slow hiss through the teeth as his eyes drift with measured disgust to Bucky’s profile. Bucky is still looking at you, as your eyes flicker between the two men standing both awkwardly and ominously in turn on your doorstep.

You hum after a moment, stepping back and away from the door to allow them to enter. “Welcome to my humble home."

Bucky steps tentatively through the doorway, stooping a bit as though he’s trespassing despite the invitation. The Baron, however, stalks through the portico like he’s done so a million times before and shuts the door swiftly behind him, eyeing the squirming animal in your arms.

As soon as you hear the latch click, you open your arms and let Artemis drop to the ground. The cat situates herself and trods off, meowing louder than necessary.

“I apologize for my cat. Artemis likes to scream all day,” you explain as you return your gaze to Bucky, and then to Zemo, where your eyes linger just a little too long on the man’s piercing stare. “She’s in heat.”

“That’s… all right.” Bucky coughs, fascinated with something on the toe of his shoe. “You’re pretty hard to find out here.”

“That’s what you wanted, right?” You don’t wait for a reply before you turn to trail after Artemis down the hallway. You pause halfway down, when you realize the two men haven’t moved. “You gonna stand there in the entryway all day?”

The two men do a little back and forth, bumping against each other to determine who walks first before Bucky roughly shoves Zemo forward by the shoulder of his fur lined coat. You watch the exchange with a touch of incredulity before turning into the kitchen.

“I think you’ll find the house to be quite suitable to your needs,” you rattle on with clinical disinterest that requires almost too much effort to sound convincing. You bristle at the two men’s silent presence over your shoulder as you begin to set a fresh coffee pot on to brew. “We don’t get visitors here. On any given day, it’s just me and the groundskeeper.”

“You mean the mafioso who nearly pulled a gun on us at the gate?” Bucky’s voice holds a hint of humor.

“Valentino means well, he just isn’t used to strangers,” you reply with a cool look over your shoulder at the Baron. “Nor am I, for that matter.”

Zemo, for his part, gives you a curt nod in return, affecting politeness. “Apologies. My name is Helmut Ze-”

“She knows who you are,” Bucky deadpans. The icy glare the two share between them holds something more than just the animosity between old enemies turned grudging allies. You think you might be mistaking it, but the tension resembles something akin to rivalry.

You wonder what Zemo is capable of that’s making the Winter Soldier feel the need to peacock.

A croaking sounds just beyond the open window, breaking you from your analysis of the two men. You step toward the Baron, reaching around him for the refrigerator handle, and he halts in his place. It appears to take him visible effort not to move away, peering down at you with careful stoicism even as you crouch level with his belt, and turn your head slightly towards him while reaching into the back of the fridge. Over your right shoulder, you hear the leather of Bucky’s glove creak in his tightened fist as you draw back holding a tupperware filled with greying meat.

“What the fuck is that?” Bucky startles, bumping into the island as a large black mass eclipses the window before it settles down on the sill in the form of a bird.

“This is Dodie. How are you, darling?” you say as you crack open the tupperware of rotting meat and shove it toward the tittering raven before the odour can assault you. The bird takes to the offering with obvious enthusiasm.

“You named a wild raven ‘Dodie?’” The name is drawn out in the Baron’s delicate accent, sounding somehow more elegant than you could ever dream to make it.

“Yeah, short for Dodecahedron.” The bird squawks as you set the tub down on the sill beside it, and you immediately shove your hand under the hot tap. “I should probably warn you, my house is host to a number of animals, both wild and domestic.”

Bucky snorts. “When did you become Doctor Dolittle?”

“When I realized that I would be alone in this enormous mansion with an ex-mafia bodyguard as my single confidante.” You dry your hand casually on a tea towel, and the petty side of you hopes that Bucky’s face reads the regret his silence speaks.

“Empress-”

“Zemo.” You cut Bucky off and spin around, your eyes desperately honing in on the Baron’s shrewd face before they can stray to Bucky. “Where are my manners? I think I should give you a tour of my home. You’ll be here for an indefinite amount of time, after all.”

“Indeed.” The Baron’s gaze rakes slowly over you, and despite the chill that comes from his scrutiny, it still feels more comfortable than the torture of finally meeting Bucky’s eye.

Because Bucky’s eyes are cold, and when he speaks, his voice is void of emotion. “It was good to see you again.”

“Was it?” You keep your expression carefully unreadable, mirroring his. In the back of your mind, the intonation of the conversation reminds you of the last goodbye you shared with him.

Bucky smirks, but there’s no humor in it. “Don’t worry. I know my way out.” As he approaches the kitchen door, he stops and turns back to point a gloved hand at the Baron. “You remember what I told you, right?”

“I will not soon forget it, James.” Zemo’s tight smile is sardonic, and gives you a small sense of dread despite not knowing the context of it.

You think you hear Bucky growl as he makes his exit.

.III.

Although you are normally a gentle and humorous person socially, your time as an agent of SHIELD taught you to use abruptness and frigidity to your advantage in order to maintain the upper hand of any given situation. Steve Rogers, bless him, used to describe you as ‘moody’ with the way you could turn your gentility on and off like a switch.

It has never been more difficult to keep a handle on your affectionate nature than it is now.

You stare across the library at the Baron, who has been content to trail behind you through the many rooms of your expansive mansion. He doesn’t seem to be feigning interest; in fact, he gives the occasional comment about the architecture, noticing small features most would overlook. It reminds you just how perceptive he is, which then reminds you who he is. And you remind yourself that you must not forget it.

Zemo admires the craftsmanship of the bookshelves on the far wall, while you stand with your back to the antique floor-to-ceiling windows. “Original panelling,” he observes with a hint of a smile, his head tilted upwards. “1921, it appears.”

You watch him blankly, or at least with what you hope is an expressionless face; on the contrary, you’re enrapt by the sight of his adam’s apple bobbing below his sharp jaw. You’d told Bucky flat out that you wouldn’t touch this man for anything, and now you’re swallowing back your realization that the Baron is, actually, a painfully handsome man. This information would have been appreciated before you’d allowed him into your home.

Your rationality tells you to look away. Your ego tells you that objectification is not idolization, and no harm comes from admiring a beautiful creature, even if it’s dangerous.

“Yes, it is. The house was built from 1920 to 1922.” You cross your arms, trying to appear dismissive. “I inherited it from my grandfather some years ago.”

Zemo turns to look at you, and his eyebrows quite obviously shoot up, despite his attempt to quickly sober himself. His lips quirk up at the edges just before he says, “You appear to have a bird on your head.”

You click your tongue. The budgerigar has been chewing on your eyebrow for about as long as Zemo has been studying the interior design of the room. “You don’t say.”

He turns his eyes to the rather large cage in the corner, which holds two more of the colorful birds, and tilts his head curiously when he sees the door to it hanging open. “You do not keep them caged?”

“You think this isn’t a cage?” You lift your finger to the bird on your head, and it hops on happily. You kiss it squarely on the breast before letting it flutter back onto your shoulder. “The birds don’t leave this room. They wouldn’t even if I left the door open. I believe they’re frightened of what’s outside of it.”

Zemo’s gaze cuts like a knife across the expanse of the room. “Is that why you refuse to leave, as well?”

You cast him a caustic glare, and decide not to dignify his question with an answer. “I will ask that you keep the door to this room and a few others closed. Artemis does tend to torment the other animals, especially now that she’s adolescent.”

“Of course.” His honeyed eyes linger on the sight of the budgerigar reaching its head to gnaw on the corner of your mouth. “You have… an affinity for animals, but not people.”

“I never said I don’t have an affinity for people.” You try not to break your composure as the bird begins to crawl across the neckline of your shirt, the weight of it tugging down slightly on the fabric. “I said I’m not used to strangers.”

He hums, nodding as his eyes travel from yours to the bird squirming across your chest. “And, what are their names?” When you frown, he gestures to the cage. “The birds.”

“Widget, Fidget, and Gidget.”

He coughs down at his feet, the back of his hand flying to his mouth to stifle it. When he looks back to you, he’s visibly holding in the laughter he just poorly tried to cover up. “Noble names, indeed.” He walks over to the cage, and a smile sneaks across his face for half a second.

“Hello there,” he nods to the two birds in the cage, speaking lowly, as though they are the most deadly assassins he’s ever met. “I am Baron Zemo. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m sure we will be seeing much of each other in the near future.”

You suck harshly on your tongue when the bird on your chest, Widget, flutters over to land on the Baron’s head with a decidedly happy chirp, and begins to groom his hair. Zemo turns to face you with a pleased look on his face.

“It seems we are no longer strangers.”

You allow yourself a sarcastic huff of laughter to compensate for how the sight of the budgerigar messing up his pristinely styled hair in the name of affection stirs something beneath your ribs, which has admittedly been dormant for far too long.

“You still have to do that to my python, though. And my german shepherd. And my ferret. And my monkeys. We have a lot more to get through before we reach the guest wing.” You walk past him, and the sudden movement causes Widget to flutter into the cage for the time being. When you reach the library door, you turn back to see him watching you with a wry smirk. “Why don’t you take off your coat and stay a while?”

.IV.

He’s scared of snakes.

You don’t know why the idea is funny to you, but something about the Baron, who can be aptly described as a serpent, being frightened of snakes just screams irony.

You showed him into the garden room with carefully concealed excitement, because the conservatory is your absolute favorite area of the mansion and, as someone so obviously educated on architecture, you figured he may have something to say about the engineering of the room.

Not that you care about anything he has to say about your house.

That being said, you didn’t expect him to take two steps into the room, and then turn tail and nearly run out without a second look. He stands five paces into the drawing room, through which you had to walk to reach the garden room, with his back to you blair witch-style.

“Should I even ask?” You bite your lip to hold in an obnoxious snort as he slowly shakes his head.

“That is the biggest snake I’ve ever seen in my life,” he admits so quietly you’re not sure he meant for you to hear it.

You pretend that you didn’t. By the time he turns around to face you again, you’ve already allowed the four foot reticulated python he’s speaking of to drop from its perch on the hanging tomato plant and slither its way along your shoulders. Zemo walks to the entrance of the garden room and leans casually against the doorframe with a blasé expression, but you can see the terror in his eyes.

“Can’t take the heat?” You ask with a coy smirk on your face. The Baron shrugs, visibly stretching his neck within the confines of his purple sweater. He refuses to move any further into the room, which is fine with you. The more distance he keeps, the better.

But you enjoy making a convicted murderer squirm.

“This is Nerissa, my darling baby girl,” you say as you lift your hand to cup the python’s smooth underbelly to help her pass along your arm onto a shelf of culinary herbs.

“You speak of it as though it’s a child.”

“She is my child, so to speak.” You stroke your hand lovingly along the end of the snake’s tail as it glides smoothly across your skin. “Why don’t you come introduce yourself?”

“I don’t feel that’s necessary.”

“Fucking liar, you made such a point of doing it to the birds.” You turn to look at him, and though his face has taken on a ghostly pallor, you can see a dangerous look of intrigue cross it.

He clears his throat, shifts his weight on his feet, but doesn’t move from where he rests his shoulder against the doorframe. “Hello, Nerissa. I’m Helmut.”

“Oh, not Baron Zemo this time?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a taunting giggle leaving your lips.

“I don’t think my title will matter to her when she eats me, in the grand scheme of things.”

You snort and step back once Nerissa’s tail has securely passed onto the shelf. “You’re, what, five foot ten? She swallows her food whole. She’d sooner choke on you than fully enjoy you.”

The Baron seems to regard that statement with great interest for a moment before sly amusement washes over his features.

And then you realize the insinuation of what you just said.

You’re no stranger to making double entendres in order to take a person off-guard, but this was entirely accidental, an ill-timed Freudian slip. You try not to falter, running your tongue along your lips and cocking your head to the side like you’re waiting for a reply.

“May I ask you something?” Zemo’s voice is soft and dismissive. His arms rest crossed over his chest, seemingly void of tension, but his finger taps lightly against his sleeve.

“If you think you can handle the answer.” Oh yes, your SHIELD skills are coming in handy today. Because you sound so sure of yourself, so confident, all the while your pulse is pounding in your temples.

You do not like this man’s presence. Nor what it is doing to you.

“James referred to you as ‘Empress’ earlier,” he says slowly, sizing you up similarly to how he did when Bucky said it to you. When he’s satisfied that he hasn't elicited any sort of reaction, his eyes meet yours again. “What exactly does that mean to you?”

You give him a reserved smile. Just from his question alone, and the demeanor with which he asked it, you can tell that Bucky told the Baron practically nothing of your background. You aren’t sure whether you should commend him for it or not.

But then you remember something else that Bucky said.

“I’ll tell you what it means,” you begin, and watch the smile on Zemo’s face fall, “if you tell me what Bucky apparently wants you to remember.”

The Baron remains silent, and you’re certain that he’s not actually considering your bargain, he’s merely acting as though he is. Then he straightens himself up in the doorway with a polite bow of his head.

“You said you keep monkeys?”

You take a breath through your nose, and move toward the door. So, he’d rather be strangers. That’s a relief.

“I hope you’re not afraid of those, too.”

.V.

It takes six days for your composure at the Baron’s presence to wear thin.

On the first night, you’d laid out the ground rules as you walked him finally to the guest wing. “The animals generally wake with the sun, so I try to as well, but I’m prone to oversleeping. When it comes to kitchen leftovers, meat is reserved for Dodie, and the rest are tossed into the backyard for the other scavengers. Valentino will drive into town to get you anything that you need, but for the meantime I’ve provided you with a few basic changes of clothes.” You waved your hand at the open door to the rather large guest room, where a dark wood four-poster bed loomed out of the darkness.

“And mealtimes?”

You startled, turning to him with bewilderment. “Whenever you want to eat. Do as you like. You have free reign over the house.”

He gave you a polite smile that was otherwise emotionless. “Not unlike one of your pets, yes?”

Ah. Therein lies the catch. He’s your prisoner, not your guest, and you would do well not to forget it.

“Good night, Baron.” With a curt nod, you left him alone in the guest wing.

And he proceeded to fall into the routine of the house as though he’d been living with you for an eternity.

It started with little things. You’d wake up to an entirely clean kitchen and a fresh pot of coffee on the hot plate. You found that the budgerigars were never running low on water or food, when usually they would be. You occasionally heard a noisy meow from Artemis in the direction of the Billiards room, but you scantily saw her.

Then, things began to get more specific. On the third day, you woke not to a pot of coffee, but a steaming mug sitting on the counter, prepared just the way you preferred it. It was as though someone had been in the kitchen seconds before you entered, and heard you descending the stairs just before they slipped away unseen. That same occurrence repeated itself in the study, the parlor, the upper floor sitting room, and the dining room. The scent of his cologne tended to hang in the air, especially in the library, signifying that he’d just been there, but seemed to dissipate like a ghost.

You didn’t see much of him, but you felt his presence all through the house, seeping into the woodwork, curling around you like a vice. Suffocating you.

For your part, you’d been staying in and around the garden room, because it seemed like that was the one place in the entire house that wasn’t swimming with his energy. At one point you saw him pass through the drawing room from the kitchen, and through the open conservatory doors you could see him dramatically turn his head away, as though he couldn’t bear to perceive the room he knew housed a snake. You snickered, and turned your nose back to the book of poetry you were reading aloud to Nerissa, who slithered serenely along the top of your high backed wicker armchair.

Zemo doesn’t entirely avoid the drawing room, though. You discover this on the sixth night, when you plod down the stairs, heading for the kitchen to inhale some late night shredded mozzarella in your silk nightgown like a civilized person. It seems that he doesn’t mind the conservatory when the door is closed, because you walk into the drawing room to find him completely unconscious, sprawled across the antique couch with Artemis snoozing in a bundle on his chest.

His right hand rests on her back, as though he’d drifted off while petting her.

His other hand has fallen to the carpet, finger tucked between the pages of the poetry book you’d been reading to Nerissa when he passed by yesterday.

Your mouth runs dry at the sight. You don’t know why you suddenly become so frightened to make a sound, like you don’t want to disturb the tender moment you’d walked in on. Your deft footfalls against the paisley rug barely make a whisper as you clutch your nightgown close to your chest, somewhere in the back of your mind registering that you aren’t wearing anything beneath it, and you might actually die if he jolts awake to get an unwarranted look at your goods.

The Baron’s breathing is in sync with the cat’s. You pause, watching the rise and fall of his chest echoed in Missy’s little torso, curled up against the light grey fabric of his blouse. Slowly, you reach down to slide the maroon colored poetry book from where Zemo’s hand limply holds it, sliding your index finger between the pages beside his.

The book is Morning in the Burned House by Margaret Atwood. It’s an old copy that’s been worn from too many months being toted around in the bottom of a backpack, dogeared and annotated to oblivion. You’d tossed it onto the coffee table after you finished reading it to Nerissa, and from there you guess that Zemo came to investigate the book he’d heard you reciting.

You flip it open, but you don’t really have to check to know which poem he had been reading. It’s the last one in the book, the titular piece, in which the narrator mourns the loss of their family and their lack of intimacy in the wake of it.

Faded pink highlighter marks the first stanza. “In the burned house I am eating breakfast./ You understand: there is no house, there is no breakfast,/ yet here I am.” You don’t remember highlighting it, but it sounds so much like the sad girl literature you’d buried yourself in during the Blip that you probably did at some point.

Then your eyes fall to the third stanza, where fresh pen marks underline the words in bold, as though they were just put there. And you know from the fact that you read the poem yesterday that they absolutely were.

“Where have they gone to, brother and sister,/ mother and father? Off along the shore,/ perhaps.”

Your toenail taps against something hard on the carpet, and you glance down to see the felt tip pen in question, its cap still tucked tightly onto the back end of it. Zemo hasn't finished annotating.

You pick up the pen and cap it before the ink dries out, and tuck it into the pages before setting the book onto the edge of the coffee table. You frown, though, considering how relevant the poem is to the both of you. You, with your reclusive lifestyle. Him, mourning his family.

Your eyes flicker back to Zemo’s sleeping form, his head turned barely toward the backrest of the couch, his hair just dishevelled enough to cause a few strands to fall across his brow. In sleep he seems so at peace, without the stiffness he keeps about him at all times like some kind of rigid mask he puts on in waking life.

You stop your outstretched hand just short of brushing the strand of hair away from his forehead.

Then you nearly run back to your room after filching the bag of shredded cheese from the refrigerator, like a misbehaving child trying not to get caught.

.VI.

You’re not much of a drinker. Occasionally you’ll treat yourself, but on the whole you keep the liquor cabinet in the drawing room shut. Tonight is not one of those nights, though, because all afternoon you had to watch Zemo playing fetch with Bruno, your elderly german shepherd.

Bruno never even plays fetch with you.

But oh, how he was so energetic with the Baron, as if the arthritis in his ancient hind legs didn’t even exist. Zemo has a ridiculously strong throwing arm, as it turns out, and you found yourself watching the immaculate arcs of the bone as he tossed it through the air, all the while imagining how strong his arms could prove to be in other circumstances.

So here you are, curled up in your wicker chair in the garden room, nursing your third brandy and praying to god that the alcohol kicks in soon, because you don’t think you’ll get to sleep unless it does.

The antique lamp beside you casts a golden hue across the vibrant green forestry throughout the room, reflecting off the darkened glass. You’d taken the liberty of putting a record on the old player in the corner to fill the silence. Bizet’s Carmen was the only disc you could find that wasn’t covered with dust, though.

Nerissa has been contentedly cuddling with you almost the entire time you’ve been seated, slithering across your lap and over your shoulders, at one point nuzzling herself beneath the flap of your loose fitting satin robe and worming her way down the sleeve of it like it’s a McDonald’s Playplace.

Despite the snake’s condolences and the tune of Habanera, you’re still seeing visions of Zemo’s back flexing beneath a blue v-neck sweater, the hem of it riding up as he stoops to praise your dog for bringing the bone back to him. You take a sip of brandy, and you wonder if Bucky didn’t foist the Baron off on you on purpose, just to torture you and your touch-starved impulses.

You don’t even realize that you’ve completely zoned out until the Baron speaks.

“Well, you look lovely this evening.”

You lift your eyes from the floor, and nearly spill your drink at the sight of his face. Three deep gashes arc across his cheekbone, blood spilling down the side of his face and along the line of his jaw, dripping down onto his sweater.

Zemo, for his part, stares levelly at you like he can’t even feel it.

“Are you- your face is bleeding,” you splutter out, setting the brandy down on the side table with your glass of water.

“Really?” He quirks an eyebrow at you. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“What happened?” You go to stand, but Nerissa holds you in place as she glides slowly across your lap and wraps herself around the arm of the chair.

Zemo stands awkwardly in the doorway, arms limply hanging by his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Regrettably, I made the mistake of leaving the door to the library open.” When you open your mouth to chide him, he supplements, “I could hear you playing Carmen. It’s... a favorite of mine.”

Your expression crumbles, because you don’t really want to berate him while his face is bleeding all over his shirt. Your hand falls to the tissue box on the side table, and you beckon him toward you. “Come here.”

Zemo doesn’t move. His eyes fall to the python that’s nuzzling its way up the line of your chest.

“Helmut, my cat just mauled your face. What more can a snake possibly do to you?”

His eyes snap back to yours, dark and brimming with carefully withheld anxiety. Then, hesitantly, he steps into the garden room for the first time and approaches your outstretched hand.

He stands before you just within arms reach, but when he realizes that you’re not going to simply hand him the tissue box, he reluctantly takes a knee. He watches the snake nudging at your neck, his mouth moving with the nervous swallow that he makes at the sight of it.

You take his chin between your fingers to tilt his head up to look at you instead. When his honey brown eyes meet yours, his pupils are blown so wide that they’re almost black.

You dip a tissue into your untouched glass of water, and begin to wipe the blood from his chin. “Are the birds all right?”

“Yes.”

“And Missy?”

“Yes.” His voice is hoarse, but he hasn’t moved his eyes from yours. “She put up a fierce fight. You would be proud.”

You hum, running the damp tissue up the side of his cheek toward the gashes. “On the contrary, I think it’s a shame she maimed such a pretty face.”

And there it is. The alcohol has worked its way to your mouth. The Baron’s eyelashes flutter, evidently surprised that you would pay him a compliment. But, of course, Zemo is incredibly perceptive. You know he can smell the brandy on your breath, can see the legs of alcohol running from the high water mark on the side of your glass. He says nothing in return.

“You seem to have gotten close with many of the animals already.” You have the presence of mind to use your loose tongue to your advantage and keep him talking, so that he doesn’t focus on the reptile that’s slowly inching its way toward his hand on the arm of the chair.

“You have an impressive menagerie. They are all very social creatures.” He doesn’t wince as you press the tissue against his open wound. “You were right.”

“About?��

“It is better to have animals around in isolation. They distract the mind from the monotony.”

His eyes begin to follow your hand as you move to grab a new tissue, but you grab his chin again, a bit rougher this time, and order, “Look at me.”

He clenches his jaw, causing a few beads of blood to pool at the surface of the scratches. “May I ask a question?”

“You may.” You dip the corner of the fresh tissue into your glass of brandy in lieu of antiseptic. As you raise the tissue to his cheek, you warn him, “This will sting a bit.”

He jumps when the alcohol touches his wound, his hands surging forward to grip onto both of your knees.

The touch is meaningless, a grasp for stability through the shock of pain, but the warm grip of his fingers against your bare skin burns along your nerves, your own need culminating at the apex of your thighs. You swallow hard when he makes no move to release your legs, nor to look away from where you keep his face gazing steadily into yours.

“Why do you refuse to leave this place?”

“I can’t leave,” you reply simply, honestly. “I’m wanted by the government for helping Steve and Bucky evade capture after-”

You falter, your gaze flickering to where you press the alcohol soaked tissue against the Baron’s cheekbone.

“After I bombed the U.N.” He says it so matter-of-factly, you’re sure he’s had this similar conversation time and time again. He squeezes your thighs gently, his own way of urging you to meet his eye. When you do, he nods at you. “Go on.”

You reconsider it only for a moment before the brandy and your own need to just tell someone gets the best of you. “I used to work with Steve. Not super closely, but in the same circles. I was an agent for SHIELD, and when that went under, I became something of a mercenary for hire.”

Your thumb strokes along the curve of his chin just before your hand fully cups his jaw to tilt his head up a bit further, because Nerissa is now slithering along the arm of the chair toward his elbow.

When you’re satisfied that his eyes are trained solely on you, you tell him, “They called me ‘Empress.’”

“It was your alias.” He says it as a statement, likely to show you that he’s following you.

You nod your assent. “I would train new field agents. I had a way of… commanding people.” You lift the tissue away from Zemo’s wound to find that it’s no longer actively bleeding.

You don’t release his chin, though, because Nerissa has found her way onto his shoulder. He knows it; his pulse pounds beneath your fingers. His eyes drift in the direction of the snake, but you snap, “I told you to look at me.”

You steal the breath from the Baron’s chest when you tighten your fingers on his jaw.

His eyes are wide when they return to yours, and he croaks, “Please continue.”

So, you do. “When they needed a place to hide, Steve called me. I took Bucky in for a little while before they went to Siberia, and… well. You know the rest.” You tilt your head to the side, effecting a shrug. “I learned that my grandfather left me this estate, and when I went into exile, I came here. I’ve been here ever since. No more fighting, no more super heroes.”

“Is that why you dislike when James calls you by that name?”

“Not entirely.” You can feel the flush creep across your cheeks at the prospect of telling the Baron your personal history, but you know even before opening your mouth that fighting it is a losing battle. “Bucky and I were… together for that time, when I took him in. He knows that I only allow the people I’m closest to the privilege of calling me ‘Empress.’ Now that we aren’t so close, I imagine he just does it to mock me.”

You feel Zemo swallow against the palm of your hand. “James was a lucky man.”

You give him a small smile, but you’re sure it doesn’t meet your eyes. “He could have been, if he’d taken my offer to come here with me. He chose Siberia instead.”

The Baron’s pupils are still eclipsing his irises, but there’s an eerie heat in them, simmering just below the surface. “That was foolish of him.”

“Maybe not. He’s a good man, but he isn’t meant for love. Good men usually aren’t.”

Zemo’s eyes flutter again, and you swear that his hands move up your thighs a miniscule amount. “What makes you say that?”

“They’re too selfless. Their loved ones usually get the short end of the stick in favor of the masses.”

“And who do you think is meant for love?”

You smile, but it’s not because of Zemo’s question. It’s because, during the course of your conversation, Nerissa has slithered her way along the span of his shoulders. When you release his jaw, you pretend the weak noise he makes in the back of his throat doesn’t send a rush of pulsing heat between your legs.

“Look at you,” you breathe, letting your hand fall to stroke the python on his shoulders. “You did so well. That’s what happens when you listen.”

This time, you don’t question that his hands slide further up your thighs, because they’ve now breached the hem of your robe.

He whispers your name, and it sounds like a prayer on his lips. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

You may be a filthy hypocrite when you say you want him despite your prejudice, but you’re not a liar, and the room is spinning.

“Smart boy,” you remark, and hear his sharp inhale with a touch of pride. “Too much.”

He ducks his head to let you lift Nerissa from his shoulders, and he waits there a moment longer than necessary, staring down at your lap like he’s looking for the answers to life’s mysteries in the parting of your thighs. Before he stands, he takes your hand and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles, but the look in his eyes as they gaze up at you through his lashes is less than.

At the door, he pauses as though he means to say something else, but appears to rethink it at the last moment. Instead, he leaves you with a soft, “Good night, dragă.”

You remain, downing the last dregs of your brandy while your breath stutters in your lungs.

#make him say please

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cherryblossomtease · 2 years

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This is very exciting for me! I’m thankful for making the list of course but now that I’m finally finished with my story, I’m free to read the others! I have never been so excited to dive into a year end rec list! Happy New Year!

🎉 Natbarnes1917's 2021 Fic Rec List! 🎉

This year has been--a lot. But the one thing that got me through it was writing. I have found a new passion, new friends, and an excellent coping mechanism. Now I want to take a moment to celebrate just a few of the amazing MCU fanfic writers that I have come to love this year. Your fics have inspired, distracted, and amused.

Please do yourself a favor and read these amazing stories--if you do be sure to leave a comment or reblog to let the author know you liked it!

*All fics are 18+ only. Minors DNI*

Happy New Year!!

Pleasures Remain, So Does The Pain by @cherryblossomtease

Summary: Helmut Zemo was only supposed to be your weekend escape, but your heart just can’t play by the rules especially When Zemo’s past inevitably catches up with you both in the shape of James Bucky Barnes. Instead of running, your worlds collide and you find love in the arms of not one, but two very, different men. A story of submission, dominance, discovery and love.

The Legend from a Golden Castle by @fivepointedstar

Summary: In mythology, Loki often turned into a woman and was described as a shapeshifter and is the most complicated character of the Norse gods. Often left to deal with the mess the other gods caused. In this story Loki tries a different approach of life after what happened at the end of Thor the dark world. Steve tries to build a new life for himself in the future. Our Super Soldier is in for some changes. Thor takes the role as the big brother; he always should have been.

The Empress (part 1 & 2) by @rosemaremembrance

Part one summary: So You’re Babysitting Your Ex’s Pet Villain: How to Demoralize Yourself in 8 Easy Steps

Part two summary: Zemo takes you to his bed. And then, of course, there’s all the shit that happens after because we can’t just have nice things.

Don't Talk With Your Mouth Full @becca-e-barnes

Summary: You rile Bucky up during a briefing and after everyone leaves, you make it up to him in the conference room, whether Steve is there or not

2:22 AM by @sweetdreamsbuck

Summary: Bucky comes over to your apartment for the first time since letting you into his guarded heart.

A Little Help by @captainsimagines

Summary: Bucky’s been having difficulties in a certain… department. He’s at a loss, completely ready to give up until he starts theorizing. If you have the ability to heal people, maybe you can help him out. Maybe you’ll be able to fix him.

Almost Had Me Believing It by @tuiccim

Summary: An undercover operation playing Bucky Barnes’ wife is a dream come true. Playing house in the suburbs while trying to take down a drug ring brings you and Bucky closer but a nosy neighbor causes trouble in paradise.

Mine by @sweetdreamsbuck

Summary: Mafia!Bucky X f!Reader

Came for the Low by @cherryblossomtease

Summary: Christine Vargas was one vial away from becoming a Flag Smasher until Baron Zemo crushed her chances, only to offer her the world instead…his world. True love comes at a dangerous price, but it’s one she’s willing to pay if it means another day with the Baron. Flash backs and forwards of love, sex and violence tell this globe trotting story of a woman smitten with the villain whose good heart is no match for her tenacity. They’ll fix the world together or die trying. This is a love story.

My masterlist

#year end list #year end fic recs

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cherryblossomtease · 2 years

Text

Pleasures Remain, So Does the Pain

Chapter 26

chapter specific warnings 18+ only - if you are under 18 you are not welcome to read further - m/f/m threesome, use of safe song, use of safe colors in d/s positive way

warnings and summary - masterlist

Epilogue 1 year later

Manhattan, New York City New York

one Art Deco Inspired Penthouse

(also— it's your birthday!)

“Oh god, is it bad? It’s bad isn’t it.” You peek through your fingers, sink down in your chair on the balcony, the distorted image of Bucky leaning over Zemo across the table from you with his arms wrapped around the Baron’s shoulders as they both look at his phone killing you slowly. They've been reading the article for what feels like hours “Shit, wait, no. Don’t tell me.” They clearly aren't planning to and haven’t actually said anything in at least five agonizing minutes. “Oh my god fine! Will one of you say something!” You shout, looking up towards the clear blue sky, only mildly obstructed by the buildings.

“Shhhh!” They hush you together.

You huff loudly and sit up, grabbing your Bellini off the slotted cedar tabletop and down the last of it. They're doing it on purpose, you swear. You'd be mad if you weren’t so jittery and if they didn’t look so proud.

Honestly you still can’t believe it’s come to this. Interviewed by one of New York’s most terrifying, but widely respected journalists. You shiver thinking back to her sitting where Helmut is now. Jane Eastman has been known to obliterate even the most seasoned socialite. Who are you? One of the few who climbed out of Madripoor alive? Oh well. If this is what it takes to quiet the speculation and rumors and obsession…

Bucky leans away and rubs Helmut’s bare cheek with his knuckles “Did you already shave?” He asks, distracted from the article.

“I was up early to shower and make sure there were no… negative trending topics with our girl’s name in them." He eyes you "If you’re going to persuade someone to alter a story, it should be done before the rest of the world wakes up,” He says with a particularly sinister smile. You give his threats a dismissive laugh and Bucky hangs his head wide eyed for a moment as if he's appalled, but raises it just enough to look at Zemo and smiles instead of scolding him,

“Because what wouldn’t we do for her.” He says and they both look over at you like a couple of dangerous yet, pardoned criminals...

“You’re terrible, both of you. I want a divorce.” You joke, assuming they are too.

“Another?” Petra asks as she comes out. “Grandfather made a full batch.” She says with a wink knowing how much you love Oeznik’s Bellini mix.

Bucky and Helmut are still just looking at you and the image of Jane tied up in her apartment pops into your head and not in the sexy sort of way. “Yes please!”

You plop back and watch as the angel that is Petra makes you another drink. She glances over at them, their eyes back on Zemo’s phone and you can feel her looking down on you again, not judging, Petra is never one to judge. She is always understanding to a fault, and her smile, as comforting as a homemade meal widens as she sets the bottle of champagne back into the bucket.

“They are only being silly.” She smiles.

“I know.”

“Have you read it?” She asks quietly.

“I’m too scared.” You whisper.

“Oh you shouldn’t be!” She scolds kindly as if the very idea of your worry is unnecessary.

“Wait; have you?” You sit up with a start. The dogs sleeping at your feet both raise their heads.

“Of course! Don’t you know?” She stands back, hands on her hips.

“Know what?” You ask, palms sweating, heart racing.

She giggles and shrugs, “You’re going viral. Well the photos are. You look amazing. I’m sure people are reading the interview too!”

“Oh no,” You groan, slumping back into the chair. Petra laughs and reaches for the Dom adding a few extra bubbles to your glass.

You’re going to chew through your lip you’re so nervous. Watching their faces does damn near nothing to help.

Zemo smiles, Bucky laughs. Zemo’s brows raise and Bucky looks over like you’re the center of the universe… but then they both frown and look at one another before reading on in silence and all you can do is wonder if you’ve ruined everything in a single moment of internet fame.

Fifteen minutes right? That’s all that fame lasts for? You really hope Warhol was right. A little fame always sounds fun but after the year you’ve all had, you don’t know that you’re cut out for this.

“Would you like the highlights?” Helmut asks, eyes up head down. He's spotted your fidgeting and takes pity on you.

Your frantic nod makes him chuckle before he starts to read.

Brunch with a Baroness

It’s been said you should never look a queen or a Diva in the eye, but what about an un-official Baroness? I had to wonder as I made my way to the new residence of the woman in question. Shared between herself and everyone’s favorite anti-hero turned American darling once more, the decorated war vet Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes and, of all the people in all the world, a man who it would be irresponsible of me not to say, has committed crimes deemed worthy of life imprisonment, but has since had his story told and shared though never by himself, the illusive, somewhat mysterious and therefore I think, fitting title— the Baron Helmut Zemo.

I could not believe when she agreed to be interviewed. Brunch? Really? It seemed even a woman who’d grown up in the mad streets of Madripoor and fallen in love with not one but two of the world’s most notorious men, still had a taste for avocado toast and mimosas.

You laugh and shrug. “What can I say, shits delicious.”

Security more intense than Stark Tower behind me, I made my way into the much talked about penthouse. It’s what you’ve seen in bits and pieces on TIk Tok and Instagram. But to step inside is very much like stepping into the mind of the woman who owns it.

A stunning combination of old world elegance and youthful pops of color, unexpected art and humor; there is a lived in warmth to this grand space that makes it feel so much less ostentatious than you’d expect and as I’m given a very quick, but lively tour I can’t help but to understand why anyone lucky enough to be invited past the muscle that guards the elevator never wants to leave.

“Well damn. That was…” You smile and take a long sip of your drink scratching Lou’s ears. “But I swear I did not take all of the credit for decorating!” Zemo had entirely too much fun with this apartment, as did you, and you like to think that while he stood there looking so confused by things like sconces and herringbone parquet floors; poor thing, deep down, Bucky did too.

Zemo laughs with a shrug. “She heard what she wanted to hear.”

“Oh, I like this part,” Bucky says and takes over reading.

She is quick to offer a drink or a snack without a maid in sight. Although I find out later it’s because the staff is at her morning yoga class. She apologizes for the dogs who do no more than politely sniff until I assure her I would love to pet them. Their names are Ada and Lou. Two beautiful French Mastiffs the both of them, and they follow her on either side like lions protecting their queen.

Bucky likes to read the praise about you, but typically you don’t let him read anything on a screen about anyone who lives in this house for everyone’s own good. But when its positive and he happens to see it, it makes your heart sing to see him light up like this.

Zemo raises a finger and reads again.

Who wears a vintage caftan she swears she grabbed from a friend’s thrift shop. It flows around her body, falling from her shoulder, like it's been put on merely to praise her existence. The light catches the shine of the simple jewelry she wears, and I detect the makeup is a touch of lip stain and perhaps a swipe of mascara. This tossed together, wildly elegant look is accentuated by— her bare feet. I say this only so that my readers understand the sort of creature we're dealing with here. She walks with the confident, heavy steps of someone who does not care. Still, she is soft around her hard edges. I wanted to hate her because I cut my teeth on the pages of this former magazine long before it went digital, during the height of the patriarchy when society told me that I should. But by the time she's got me helping her with plates and cups and has me laughing at her jokes, she leads me out to the balcony with the dogs panting at our heels; I think I could spend hours doing absolutely nothing with this human and still want more….

"It doesn't say that," You interrupt.

"Yes it does." Bucky says, grinning.

"No, it doesn't" You roll your eyes.

"You think I'm just making things up as I go?" Zemo says, glancing at you." Would you like to hear the rest or not?"

You nod with your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling both embarrassed and flattered.

"Don't let out the cat!" She shouts as if suddenly remembering that I am not a permanent resident of the house, aware of how things go down here. I am quick to shut the door behind her, which leaves me alone with the escapee herself, one miss Alpine Barnes-Zemo. She is a white cat of pure fluff and big eyes who meows at me while winding through my legs as though she thought we were friends. "Sorry babe, I'm on her side," I say to the little snowball. Luckily this is nothing new for her mother, who quickly scolds the cat and lets me out, gently toeing Alpine back in and away from the door.

"She's as grumpy as her daddy when she doesn't get her way," I'm told with a sweet laugh, and I have to wonder… exactly which daddy?

You choke on your drink. "Bad?" You ask

Bucky smiles and shrugs a little. "I never really thought I'd be called a cat dad in an interview read by millions, but no, not bad." He says and gives you a wink

"Technically, she could have been referring to me," Helmut adds.

You and Bucky both laugh. "Yeah, okay," You mock loudly, "Keep reading."

As we sit down to eat and her story begins to unfold, nothing about her necessarily screams "girl with daddy issues" or "repressed sexual deviant" or any of the other awful things being tossed her way in the press.

"She talks about your early days in Madripoor," Zemo glances up

"Skip it." You say quickly.

He scans and finds where it gets interesting for you again.

While not unheard of, a polyamorous relationship is still somewhat taboo even in this day and age, especially one rumored to function as this one does. This is why I must ask her about a particular piece of jewelry that started a mini firestorm not long after her arrival here in New York.

"Oh, okay, here we go." You say, and they both hush you again.

She hangs her head, sighing like she knew it was coming when I bring up the infamous pendant, but her knowing smile encourages me to go on, so I do. I don't want to push her into this, but I'm here to ask these questions. For those readers who happened to miss it, pictures of her wearing a very simple necklace known in the BDSM counterculture as a day collar, the somewhat discreet symbol of a person submissive to another, were taken earlier this year. I asked what she felt that night as she and a friend were spotted on their way into a restaurant. She'd worn a black Balmain blazer, strappy heels and not much else, sending a very clear message. The look was stunning, as was she, but when the paps asked a few too many rude questions about one partner in particular, she did not hesitate to physically show how far she'd go to protect the men she loves.

No charges were pressed. The cameraman only suffered the embarrassment of having her call him out as she shoved him into a parked car to get him out of the way. If you're wondering —yes— she does still occasionally wear the necklace as a lovely sign of defiance, refusing to be shamed into a more vanilla existence. But the speculation as to the structure of the relationship has never stopped. Not that it matters. You can speculate all you want, just be polite. She does eventually answer my question. How did it make you feel? I asked her and she just looked me in the eye and said one word. Strong.

You look up, your heart beating a little faster. Both Bucky and Helmut pause to acknowledge this. You will not be tricked into outing him you think, looking into your Bucky's beautiful blue eyes. When he's ready, then he'll say it. Until then, you'll toss anyone who stands in your path demanding you tell them “who tops who” into a car, a trash can or oncoming traffic... that asshole paparazzi, you should have done worse.

Helmut can see it in your eyes and gives you the smallest smile, he knows you're not one to be pushed either.

So it seems there are three people to contend with in this relationship, although my money is still on the winter soldier for brute strength. But she reminds me that Bucky as he's affectionately known isn't that sort of man. He's above brawling in dives. He is, as she says, very peaceful.

"You speak of them both with such reverence," I tell her, insisting that there must be something that makes her go a little mad. She laughs, picking at the fruit on the table choosing a few blueberries. "Of course. They're only human. They drive me mad, everyone in a relationship can relate. If you're looking for something scandalous, I might disappoint you. We can be pretty boring most of the time time.” I insist that I'm not disappointed, just surprised.

"Why? Because we watch movies and make dinner and take naps and one of my boyfriends plays chess and reads, while the other enjoys watching baseball?" I have to note the sweet way she rolls her eyes. She swears they have as many mundane habits as anyone else, but I bring up their knack for violence and destruction. She counters with their lack of it when there is no need. She does not make excuses only gives simple reasons why neither of them desires that life. They only want to live peacefully and to help when they are called on. I tell her many people find this hard to believe and she laughs "What? that My boyfriend is a good man? That they are both incredible men?” Yes this, this is exactly what so many people have a hard time believing.

She is frustrated but understands. "Do you know how many assholes I've had to shove away to find a man worth a damn?” Two! Two men worth a damn! I remind her. She smiles again, but this time I have to say, it is the smile of a woman who still feels the flush of love. No one is sure of how long the relationship between them has been going on but speculation is at least two years, perhaps even three, and still she glows as though they've only just declared their undying affection.

"Jeez." Bucky interrupts Helmut sounding amazed "How the hell do people know this stuff?"

Helmut shrugs “The internet. Who needs detectives when you've got fans."

Before we go in, she leaves me with something I do not expect but it makes me think— can we not just let them be? Have they not earned it?

"The way we live is truly our choice and we do so consensually, safely and sanely." She says it with a wink and a nod to those in the know. And yes, the choice was made by three adults." It's then that she offers me a splash of whiskey in my coffee, as if this conversation might need something a little stronger to help wash it down. "I won't say more because I love and respect everyone involved and everyone involved has not had a chance to say what they want to say about it yet." It's clear she wants to protect the men that she loves and while Helmut Zemo has never shied away from his beliefs when asked or his sexuality, getting an answer out of James Barnes has proven to be nearly impossible. I ask if thats who she's protecting and she just smiles at me and offers this bit of advice. "You know I'm from Madripoor right? Life there makes you ready for anything, including nosey bitches. Its how you make your money and I respect that, but I have to ask that in my home, you follow one rule. Don't be a nosey bitch Jane"

Fair enough Baroness, fair enough.

“Remind me to never piss you off.” Bucky laughs, but you can see that he’s a little shaken by the topic. The three of you have already lived that paparazzi moment; dealt with it, talked it through, been there for Bucky and stopped Zemo from killing the man. But to have it brought up again and so publicly… it’s not easy. But then again you all knew this was a likely outcome. Next time maybe it’ll be Helmut’s terrorist labeling. This time was Bucky’s turn. He’s an easy target. A gorgeous reformed killer turned Avenger in a long term polyamorous relationship? The world is tripping over itself trying to find out more… guess they’re going to have to stumble along a little longer.

“Shut it.” You flush. “She was cool, but she also pushed. I know I know. I agreed to the interview. But she really knows how to get under your skin without you even realizing she’s there until you’re squirming. I‘m sick of people asking about us, about you.” You pause and see how Bucky is torn between feeling bad and touched by your attempts to protect him. “And if I’m going to have a PR person, then I should probably listen to their advice. Hannah thinks this is a good move.” You shrug, “as scary as this was, I think it might have been a smart move. Give a little and the masses will back off. At least for a while.”

“I suppose. I don’t know that dangling forbidden fruit in front of greedy hordes ever really worked but, why not?” Zemo says and laughs, but you’re struggling to find the humor. He lets it fade to a smile and gives you that look that says both, enough, and I love you. “It was really very good.” He tells you setting his phone down “I agree. It was a smart move, a true power play, I really do, and I’m thankful that you’ve taken this role on. We never asked it of you and it won’t always be easy. But— You were brilliant.” He says and his praise makes your heart flutter. “When you’re ready, you should read the entire thing.”

You shake your head furiously making him laugh again.

“Well no matter what, between sleeping in, the pictures from the photoshoot being viewed, what? I don’t know— viral amounts of times?” You almost spit out your drink laughing “I would call it a success and the perfect way to start your birthday, don’t you think?” He says and raises his glass to you.

Bucky raises his mug of coffee. With a grin you lean across the little table and clink glasses.

He’s right. It’s been wonderful. You’d woken up to music in the bedroom, Zemo bringing you coffee and Bucky slow dancing with you to some sweet old song that made you almost cry.

You’d had crepes with strawberries and lemon meringue, and then the big article drop after Hannah called screaming that it was out. Life was moving at both speeds. Too fast to keep up, just slow enough that you could sit back and watch it go by. Your head is spinning and it feels glorious— but something else is up, you can sense it.

Bucky’s got his eye on you as he turns his back on the table, his perky ass propped up against the ledge of the cedar as he leans down with his black and gold hand rubbing Helmut’s shoulder in a deep massage. “I don’t know about you babe,” he says leaning down to half whisper even though he’s watching you over his shoulder. “But I’m aching to give her at least one present.” That look is nothing but trouble. It’s playful but there’s a hidden agenda in there too.

“What have you two been planning?” You ask sitting up.

“Oh, lots of things.” Bucky says smiling with that pretty, pink pout. “A very full weekend and all about you.” He says and his expression changes ever so slightly when he focuses on Helmut. “If, that’s all right with you?” He asks, always so politely submissive, and your senses start tingling.

Zemo has been lightly stroking Bucky’s arm with the back of his finger this entire time while staring at you. His eyes flick up and down taking you in and not for the first time since you all got up this morning. You assume it’s because you’re wearing these new little pajamas from Bergdorf’s. Emerald green shorts with pink cheetahs hunting on them that barely cover your ass and black piping around the collar and cuffs. Very kitch. He picked them out and clearly adores you in the set. You can see him burning for you from here.

Zemo lets his gaze drift up to Bucky. “The perfect time. Take her to the bedroom.” He says with a slight nod back towards the French doors. His voice is kind with approval but not without the usual command perfected by a former Colonel.

You quickly swallow the last of your Bellini and lay your hand in Bucky’s once he rounds the table and pulls you up.

He leads you away and as the two of you pass by the Baron, the look in Helmut’s eyes as he watches you go tells you that you’ll be spoiled rotten for your birthday— but this first gift won’t exactly be a dozen roses, and it sure as hell ain’t a new car with a ribbon on top

A ball gag and double penetration.

Just one of the many ways to say happy birthday in a polyamorous sub/dom relationship.

You open your eyes as the last note of the song you've hummed hangs in the air. What song was it? It doesn't matter; it worked.

Everything has stopped.

They've been incredible so far, both of them, so attentive, so slow and gentle and not gentle when you don't want them to be… you feel parts of you flex and twitch and shudder as time in the bedroom slows.

Looking down, you make a sound of surprise when you see a thin shining line from your mouth and go to apologize, only to remember you can't for the red ball in your mouth. Still, you feel bad for drooling on Bucky, who lies on his back beneath you in bed, but this seems to be the least of his worries; in fact, you aren't sure he's even aware. He's got his head back and his cock too far up your pussy to care. Not to mention he's doing his very best to not fuck you as you've asked or, better yet, hummed.

You close your eyes again. It's not about him right now; you need to focus on yourself.

"Are you in pain?" Helmut asks, his voice thin and very soft in your ear.

Breathing harder again, you open your eyes. His voice has reminded you of his presence inside your body.

You shake your head. That's not it. They've taken their time with you— mouths and hands calming and exciting you all at once in a perfect mix of pain and pleasurable foreplay until your body reached a level of heightened bliss that opened to them without resistance. You moan, involuntarily thinking of it.

He eases you back just a little, and you feel not so much the length of him, but the width and the sound changes. It's more a whimper. Still not pain, just a sense of being so full.

The lonely goat herder? That's the song. Jeez. Really going for it with the Rodgers and Hammerstein— it was all you could think of. What an awful way to ruin one of your childhood favorites, but it works every time when you can't say your colors, and you had to stop; you had to. It was too much. Together, they are too much.

His kiss is very soft on your shoulder. "Do you want me to take it out?" Helmut asks breathless, his open mouth against your ear, his hold on your hip a little too tight; after all, you've only just had him stop, he's still so hard inside of you, so ready to fuck his little sub up her ass on her birthday. You would smile if it weren't for the gag and the fear of exactly this.

Your back is slightly arched, and you can't ignore the way he throbs as you both breathe together. Why did he have to ask like that? Please be less hot, for fuck sake…

You shake your head no. You don't want to lose the physical connection with either of them, and you do not want to start from the beginning. You just needed a break— that's all.

Helmut exhales slowly and calms. Beneath you, Bucky reaches up and wipes your chin with a smile, You give him a pitiful look, and he chuckles softly. "You look amazing," He mouths.

You roll your eyes but appreciate it feeling helpless like this.

He reaches up and closes the pajama top, temporarily covering your exposed breasts. The bottoms are a wet mess stretched and pulled so far to the side you'll probably have to order a new pair…

"What is your color now?" Helmut asks when you're relaxed. He strokes a nice rhythm up and down your spine. "Tap my hand twice for the correct answer. Understand?"

His hand is on your belly; you tap twice.

"Red?"

You wait; his breath is warm, tickling your skin. Bucky's hands are heavy on your thighs, and you love the feel of his consistent comfort.

"Yellow?"

You raise your hand, wondering. Can you? You have actually done this before but not successfully. The first time you made them both stop. The second you lasted about a minute. The third was good, and then your safe word came out too close to a scream for anyone's comfort. The fourth was much better, so good you'd actually almost climaxed, but it was Helmut who couldn't hold back— it still made you smile remembering the way he leaned over you in the tub, Bucky under you both damn near drowning. It was a perfectly sexy mess, but no more double pen in the tub, not if you wanted to keep both your boyfriends alive.

"Green."

You tap twice.

He sighs with relief, kisses your cheek, and grabs your shoulders, slowly thrusting up, and you are once again blinded by the feel of two very demanding dicks at once.

Thankful that he's let you have the use of your hands, you lean forward and grab Bucky's forearms. He raises his hips with a loud groan grinding against your pussy. Your scream is muffled against the red ball.

"Don't make me come," Helmut warns him. Bucky flashes a smile but obeys and lowers his hips. "Not after last time." You hear the way Helmut smiles, thinking of how quickly it was over in the bath, but you don't know if you can take it for much longer as Bucky holds you in place, spearing you again and again while Helmut holds you tight, moaning and watching, as he stretches you to your limits.

The swell starts to rise the second Helmut moves. It's the slow, smooth roll of his hips in contrast to the hard thrust of Bucky's. Your chin raises as your head falls back; a breath fills your lungs and does not leave. What are the obvious contradictions? Fire and ice? That's what this feels like. You hear your own voice stunted by the gag, pushed back down your throat but no less vocal as you're fucked towards your first birthday present.

"That's it," Helmut says in your ear, grabbing your arms. He slides his hands down almost to your wrist, causing you to arch your back even more, and you open for them both, unaware that you could. It feels like… like an offering. Like you are giving your body to them completely, nothing at all to stop you now.

You open your eyes wide, looking up at the beautiful coved ceiling painted the deepest peacock blue, hand-carved moulding and all—and you think 'take me, I am yours' as the laugh in your chest becomes a deep gasp, shoved against the gag by the force of their thrust.

"You want to come for me now?" He says your name and licks your neck, biting to make you squeeze your eyes shut. "You're going to come first. Yes?"

You nod.

He pulls you back, and you want to moan, but you can't. It sounds throaty, and your chest rises and falls, ribs contracting and expanding, your breasts shaking free of the top as you take them both in, just once— all the way.

Bucky is holding your face with a hand. "Look at me," he says, half sitting up now, "Look at me. You're alright." He breathes, rocking your hips gently. You can hear it, the way your moans sound like cries. Are you crying? "You're alright," He assures you and bites his own lip before kissing your forehead quickly. "Fuck… fuck." He's mouthing it, just barely saying it, "You feel so fucking good babe." He says with a breathless laugh, and your eyes search one another. He looks past you to Helmut like he doesn't know what to do. You see your Baron's hand come forward and grab him around the back of his head and pull him closer even though you’re all only inches apart.

"She comes first." Helmut warns, to Bucky's pained acknowledgment. Helmut himself sounds like he's barely holding on. His grip on your arm tightens, "You feel how hard you make me— how hard you make him." His words are praise in your ear given with a scolding tone. He draws a breath through his teeth and puts his arm around your neck. Your eyes spring open. Bucky is watching like he could eat you both alive. "You fucking torture me with this ass," he grabs a handful of your right cheek like your body is a personal affront to him and shoves his cock in deep. You cry against the gag feeling yourself get even closer. "This body…" His teeth catch the tip of your earlobe. "You're so beautiful. So fucking beautiful." He says, punching his hips forward as he inhales you, "I want to tear you apart you're so perfect." He runs his free hand up to your head and grabs, the pain of having your hair pulled so hard makes your eyes roll back as your frustrated moan makes him match your tone and pass it with a growling laugh that taunts you.

"Make it good for her James," he says and Bucky is quick to find your clit with his warm hand.

Your thighs are shaking instantly. You melt down helpless as they watch, more enjoying the sight for a second as you let Helmut hold you against him, whimpering and shaking through the power of this orgasm. It's not the sort that comes and goes, rising and falling and ending. It's the kind that grows like the cliché wave, but there is no better description. It's the sort that picks up momentum from the depths and rises towards the shore but too far off to crash just yet, it's going to be the endless, rolling sort, you can feel it start from your glorious center, and you laugh with the happy realization as you mount that swell and ride.

Bucky can't take it. He can feel you clenching him and sits up a little more, rocking you back and forth, looking like he might cry. "Please," he asks Helmut just once, he's so desperate. Maybe a while ago, back on the yacht perhaps, Zemo would have tormented him longer, but now, today, he reaches over and grabs Bucky's head, his hand sliding down to pull at the leather collar around his neck.

"Yes, but— you'll pay for it later."

Bucky's eyes shut, he drops his head, he holds you tight with his hands going still as he comes hard. He flashes a smile of relief and pleasure. All the things that make the rippling bursts of delight in your body so incredible. You moan louder than he does, so happy to have him fill you.

You are a mess between them, that orgasmic curve rising to a sharp peak with the warmth of his come on your thighs as Bucky starts to lower to his back. He raises you up on his still hard dick knowing how good it feels for you, a proud little smirk on his lips.

"You like that," Helmut manages, and you nod. He laughs a little and reaches down between your legs, rubbing your now sticky clit, making you scream, muffled as it is. "Good. Now we'll finish together," He says because he can't hold back. And he drops his arm to push his hand against the small of your back, the other hand pulling the metal grommet of your collar, and he starts to choke you as he pushes back in.

You hadn't realized how much he'd slipped out until you are blinded by shock of just how far he has to go.

When he bottoms out you don't move, you can't. You can only breathe and hold tight to Bucky's hands, the deep sound of Helmut’s satisfaction making you feel too small and helpless and yet here you are, raising your ass to him.

Fuck crashing into the shore. When Zemo fucks you, the wave explodes.

Sweat, come, tears. Just sloppy and perfect and you are laughing? Crying? You can’t breathe… gasping. Yes. His hand is sliding away from your mouth, you don’t even know why. The gag is gone? You spot it tossed onto the bed. He'd said "scream for me" and so you had. In the end it was all you could do. Fuck, that was all you could do…

You are drawing in slow deep breaths with Helmut still inside of you and his arms still around you. Your hand is pressed to your stomach the other still holding Bucky’s because he’s the other reason you’re not on the floor—Bucky!

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." You're saying again and again to him as you press your palm to your head to make it stop spinning. You're not even close to a full breath yet, you can hardly move at all.

Bucky looks down at his stomach shining from the amount of saliva you were not aware your mouth could produce.

He just smiles and sits up, looks down, and scrunches his nose. "It's all right. Not like I've never been covered in your other bodily fluids before."

You grin and roll your eyes shaking and gasping as Helmut whispers in your ear, and you nod and brace.

The feel of him leaving your body can be as overwhelming as him entering sometimes, especially after something like this.

Engulfed in his arms, with your head back on his shoulder, your mouth open in silent protest against the slow withdrawal until he is gone you feel empty but warm and used. He kisses your cheek and pushes you forward to kiss Bucky's lips, simultaneously raising your thighs and ass together until Bucky slides free. "Love you." He mouths against your lips.

"I love you." You say back softly. "Thank you."

"Happy Birthday" Helmut says when you come back up, sitting on Bucky's lap, "I know it's not jewelry or anything but…"

You laugh at his nonsense between them, "Stop." You say, turning your head to inhale the scent of his skin, with your gaze still fixed on Bucky.

Your body is completely and undeniably spent, but you are buzzing with life. How’s the saying go? There are some things money just can’t buy?

Looking up into Helmut's eyes, all sleepy after that release of energy, your smile grows, "The only people demanding jewelry on their birthday… have never been fucked like that before.” You grin and rise up to kiss him lightly, tasting him, and you, and Bucky… “So good,” you mumble and giggle, “I’ll take your ass to red lobster.”

“Excuse me?”

Bucky snorts.

You fall to the bed laughing.

“I thought I made you happy?” He stands there, beautifully ruined and appalled, so regally confused, so perfectly unamused that all you can think, is how deeply you love this man, and that you will absolutely be taking him to Jersey for Red Lobster. After you fuck him again, of course.

Go figure, Helmut was lying.

A purse, a necklace, earrings — all the things his money can buy and then some.

You wonder if the gifts will stop coming as you go wild opening them in the dressing room of the apartment. It's been a magical evening with champagne and one of the best cakes you've ever had, and now all of this.

You stand in the mirror admiring the earrings when you feel the weight of something warm and expensive on your shoulders. The tears come as quickly as you realize— Bucky's gotten you a new leather jacket.

"It's perfect," You gasp in the mirror, turning to see. It's not just a leather jacket; it's very similar to his but different in ways that suit you perfectly.

Between the sparkle coming from the understated jewelry and the soft leather hanging from your shoulders, you feel like a fucking queen.

Petra even looks a little misty-eyed, watching from the corner with the babies, panting cluelessly happy.

It's Oeznik who breaks up the little party, "Your guests are arriving, miss," he says with a warm smile and Helmut jumps up from the settee with a loud clap, all excited, his eyes sparkling with his occasionally wild energy.

"What have you done?" You demand following him out of everyone's favorite room in the penthouse — yes, Bucky included.

"Nothing, nothing, just a small thing, really." He says with a grin so wide even Loki would be suspicious as you go into the hall.

"Sure." You roll your eyes and glance at Bucky as he passes, your eyes lingering on him. Damn, he's become something of a fashion aficionado without realizing it since moving back to New York. Your gaze could best be described as dirty as you eye him from behind in black boots, and not the bad-guy fighting kind either; these are strictly for looking good. He's wearing a pair of black jeans that show off that glorious ass and a short sleeve black button-down with a rich floral print. He glances back over his shoulder, feeling your eyes on him, and smiles. He knows he looks good; plus the three of you are still riding your high from this morning's sex. It was a bonding session for lack of a less obnoxiously sweet term, and now you can't stop touching one another as you walk down the long hall from the dressing room with your men; proud of your interview, loving your gifts, and drowning in their affection.

And then you freeze in the doorway, too stunned to move.

"Surprise," Helmut whispers in your ear.

Bucky steps aside, crossing his arms with his head down to hide the brightest smile you've seen on him yet.

He and Helmut— these wonderful boys— have flown in two of your friends from Madripoor and invited the only other two you've made since moving back to the city, one of which you and Bucky both knew because she'd been your neighbor in his old building. Just the very presence of estrogen makes your heart sing.

However, the biggest surprise by far is Sam, who comes in just as the second or maybe third bottle of champagne is popped.

You really aren't expecting to see him.

You know he and Bucky keep in touch quite a lot actually, and during Helmut's transition from Zemo the terrorist to Zemo the… not terrorist… he'd come around once or twice, but things are still a little weird. Honestly, you're just thrilled to see him in a casual setting, and it seems so are they.

The best part of it all is watching the way Bucky doesn't stop himself from doing any of the things he'd typically do around Helmut. When he thanks him for a beer from the fridge, he kisses him; when he makes a horrible joke and Helmut groans, Bucky insists that this is just one of the many reasons why Zemo loves him, right in front of Sam.

You've studied Sam's face waiting for a reaction from across the room with your friends laughing and chatting around you, but there is none. He just watches them with his usual look of endearing suspicious disgust that he gives everyone.

"Hey man, if you can put up with these corny ass jokes, you're the real one," Sam says, shaking his head and walking over to grab a beer for himself.

Helmut smiles and nods at Bucky. "You see, even America's finest agrees with me; your sense of humor can be truly awful."

"Oh, come on!" Bucky tosses his hands up, making Helmut smile.

You do too, but yours is reserved for Sam, who catches you watching him.

"Whats up, birthday baby, how you feelin?" He asks as you walk over.

"Good. Anxious to know what else they have planned for me."

"Oh, you don’t know?" He asks, glancing over at the two of them still bickering even though it's quickly devolving into something else a little more affectionate. Sam pulls a face, but you're certain it's the look of brotherly disgust.

"Not a clue. Wait do you?"

He looks at you and opens his beer shutting the fridge. "I'm not saying anything!" He says and takes a sip. "You think I'm ruining Martha Stuart's plans over there?"

You look over. "Who, Zemo?" You grin.

"No! Bucky! Damn, he made me swear not to tell you anything! Everything has to be perfect! It's her weekend!" He mocks Bucky's voice. "I mean, I get it, though. How many birthdays do you think he got to celebrate." He says, relaxing back against the marble counter

You both look over and watch them join your friends at the long L-shaped sectional.

"The ones he did have were shit." You say softly, thinking of Bucky's life before it got bad. "I'm happy he's having fun now."

"Yeah me too." Sam says and instinctively, you tap your drinks. "Hey by the way. I know we got off to a rocky start. I think maybe I passed some judgment on you that wasn't exactly fair in the beginning. But you know, I just thought… well, I thought you were just in it for the moment. I didn't think it was like— this."

You drink some champagne and look up at Captain America. "Yeah Sam, I know. I don't really blame you; I mean, the chances of it being just a fling were pretty high." You admit, watching them again. "But it was always going to be more."

"I can't say that I believe in love like you, but if anyone can get me to give it a chance, hell it's you, Baron fucking Zemo. And my old pal Bucky Barnes." He grins as Bucky walks over. "Whats up, Sarge. You doin' all right? You need another beer?"

Bucky laughs as he comes up."Nah, I'm fine. Just wanted to make sure you're all set to go?" He asks you.

"I think. Do I look all right still?"

"Does she look all… does she look all right?" He steps back like you've just asked the most outrageous question. You cover your giggles with your hand. "Are you? Hey!" He shouts over to your friends, and you instantly turn away, hiding your face. "She wants to know if she looks all right?

They erupt into whistles and hollers that make you cringe and laugh, but you eat that shit up.

"Friend. Would you please tell my beautiful," he takes your hand from your face and pulls you away from the counter. "Stunning girlfriend." Bucky makes you look at him, "That she looks much more than all right."

Sam makes a long sweet hum that sounds like a southern bell. "Girl, you know you look good." He teases. "Stop playin. Look at you, got your little belly shirt on, with the long skirt lookin like baby Stevie Nicks. Got that leather jacket on. Who got you that? Bucky did, didn't he?"

"Yes," you squeak out.

"I know." He says right back, winking at Bucky, who gives one of those chin first head nods like he's some big bad man; okay well, he is but it's obnoxious and cute.

"Okay, okay, point made. Thank you." You spin to him, arms around his neck with a kiss. "Now, can I know where we're going yet?"

"Sure." He says and looks over his shoulder. Bucky turns with you in his arms, and Zemo is smiling, just waiting patiently.

"The cars are ready downstairs. Dinner reservations are in twenty minutes, the concert is in two hours. We'll have to eat fast."

Over the beautiful noise. The perfect screech of precision guitar riffs and the random notes tossed together by the woman onstage with the voice of an angel, you stand and watch the sea of bodies scream for her and it takes all you have not to cry.

"Good?" Bucky asks, standing behind you.

You can't take your eyes off the stage below. You nod and feel a tear roll down your cheek ignoring your attempt to keep it together. He rubs your shoulders before going back to stand with Helmut.

Dinner at your favorite restaurant, and now this…

You look back and see Bucky and Helmut watching the concert, looking happy too. Sometimes you have to just step out of yourself and look around to see just how much has changed.

You never could have imagined the reaction of the public, but the pardoning of Helmut Zemo had been a whirlwind with the added shock of Bucky Barnes and "the mystery girl." At first none of you had dared turn on the news or google it or even scroll beyond funny cats, the newest dance, or a good recipe for mixed drinks. The attention was too much. It tried everything in those first few months— everything but your relationship.

You'd hid out in the French Villa, thankful for its sanctuary until your location was given up, and you still have your suspicions about who had done that.

And then the first call came. You'd been reluctant to let him go, but Zemo had to hold up his end of the bargain. In the end, he went off on some mission you'll never know the details of "To keep you safe". But whatever Valentina needed from him had proven to be worth the risk, because word of his assistance began to spread. People who had been sympathetic all along began to drown out the naysayers. The second time he played the hero, those voices grew louder, declaring him a man of his word; a man who would not let supremacists and evil take over the world. By the third time, well, the third time, someone leaked a shot of him and Bucky on the ground walking away from a fight together, which was unusual as until then Bucky had stayed out of it, but this time Zemo needed him.

You smile now, watching the lights shine on their faces, and remember the image of them on your phone looking absolutely breathtaking. Baron Zemo, his coattails blown back, face hidden under the purple mask, but those piercing eyes shining out to wreck you. And at his side, Sergeant Barnes, still as deadly as he'd ever been, but fighting on the right side now, he seemed even more dangerous; that shining arm promising death to anyone who threatened the man he secretly loved— and then the secret came out.

You hated that for him.

Why can't they understand that Bucky still isn't ready?

Someone got a shot of him getting into the jet and his hand is on Helmut's face, but it's the look in his eyes that gives it away. They aren't kissing, it's not some provocative pose. He could deny it, but he chooses silence for now and when he’s ready, there is a community the world over that has already rallied behind him, behind all three of you for that matter. When he's ready, he can make that choice, but oh, the public went wild.

The first queer avenger!

You idiots, he's far from the first…

Suddenly you remember being back in France, back at this club you dragged them to one night and how you had to dance practically up in the rafters because you'd been in hiding in more ways than one, but not anymore.

You look over at your friends dancing, so happy up here in V.I.P. then back to Zemo "I want to go down," You shout over the music, looking him in the eyes.

He seems to know exactly what you mean.You miss the crowd. Zemo gives you a small, warm smile. With a kiss to your forehead, he gives you a single nod.

"You wanna come, Buck?" You ask between songs, the guitars dying down, replaced by the roar of the crowd.

Bucky looks at the stage, then you, and shakes his head. "Nah, not yet. But you go. It's your night."

You can't fight or force him. He'll get there eventually. "Okay" You kiss his cheek and quickly summon your tipsy entourage to take them through the heavy door, down the steps, and to ground level with the rest of the people.

The ones standing closest to the side door give you wide-eyed glares, shocked to see you here in the flesh but you just smile and focus on the magic happening onstage as a wave of white light washes over you and the siren onstage lets out a long wail, the band behind her joining at decibels that vibrate your bones.

You're grinning from ear to ear, feeling transported and in that moment, the beat drops, and the song changes to something sweet. It hops along deceptively, but her voice is heartfelt and her words cut like a blade.

You are compelled to turn and look up. When you do, you see Bucky watching the concert but Helmut is watching you. Your connection is as strong as it ever was. With nothing but a look shared it’s clear, this is not the end of your weekend.

"I wish you didn't have to both go." You're gazing down towards Helmut lounging on his side across the bed, his head resting in his hand, his fingers casually stroking the arch of your foot.

"Me too, but we'll be home quickly. Some things must be seen to in person." He says.

Bucky, who yawns on his back, slides his hands behind his head and settles into the pillows. "We work better as a team." He adds and smiles at Helmut, who returns the gesture.

"You think you've really figured it out? Valentina's angle?" You ask, angry that Helmut's been secretly working while celebrating with you all weekend. You knew he'd been sneaking off, but you thought he was just planning more fun stuff. After the dinner and the concert, Brunch, and the spa the next day, you assumed today would be more of the same over indulgence.

"Let's just say, Helmut's figured out that she's not presenting the whole truth," Bucky says with the serious voice usually reserved for his Winter Soldier persona. "Which is something we never doubted but now it's pretty clear. But listen, we'll be back as soon as we can. Until then, you've got extra guards on duty." He says, turning towards you.

You nod, not sure if that makes you feel better or not. You do know where all the weapons are, though. "Just get your asses back to me as quickly as possible and preferably in one piece. Both of you." You say with a stern look for the Baron in charge.

He gives you a tight, “of course” smile but something is still off. You've noticed it all weekend.

"What is it?" You ask, sitting up to rub the soft arm of his dark navy robe.

He stares at you, blinks himself free of some thought, and looks at Bucky before turning away, his distracted gaze wandering, but you know it's not the expansive bedroom he sees.

You look to Bucky for answers but he just shrugs.

"Are you all right?" Bucky asks and reaches to run his vibranium hand down Helmuts arm.

He gives a slight nod, but when he looks at you both again, you're surprised to see tears in his eyes.

"Helmut?" Shit… you knew something was off.

"Please," He quiets you. "There's something I need to say, something I need to do before another minute passes and I let this morning end without having done it."

You freeze. There are so many possibilities. You could think of thousands, and all of them end with the three of you apart because of that damn Contessa and her deal being as bad as you've worried it really is. It could also be whoever she works for wanting too much from Helmut or maybe— Maybe they really are asking too much…

He sits up and tries not to look like there is a storm of emotion brewing. "I am not fearful of many things, but if anything has been proven to me over this weekend celebrating your birthday, it's that I pride myself on being patient, but I'm also very good at procrastination when I'm afraid of the outcome." He says with a sad laugh at his own expense.

"What do you mean?" Bucky asks, sounding as nervous as you feel.

Helmut's gaze meets his. "Sorry, let me be more clear. While there's no reason for me to think otherwise, there is still a chance that this could end in many ways, but— I'll never know unless I stop stalling— and just ask."

You feel the way your face twists with the pain of possibly losing him. After all of this…

Helmut was up before you both. He's already showered and his hair is slicked back, he looks as dangerously handsome as he ever has but there is an energy about him this morning you can honestly say you've never seen before. It's not nerves though, so you're stumped. It's more life and the exciting, overwhelming possibility of living it. He is wearing his thick robe that you like to snuggle into when the weather changes. You know well how easy it is to fall asleep with your head on his chest, his arm around you...

This robe has a pocket. He reaches in and you feel Bucky quickly take your hand snapping you from your daydream and your world slowly begins to turn over on itself as you see, there is no threat of it ending at all…

He starts to speak, not looking at either of you at first. “There is something I realized as I went on the hunt for the right one. The symbol you wear around your neck," He says, speaking of your necklace, "It shows that you belong to me, that you are submissive to me. I find it so fitting that it is the same as a ring."

He's pulled a pouch from the pocket— dark green. He opens it. "The three of us know most of society will never understand the way we live, how you as two adults could consent to the things I do to you, to this life I lead you through, how I dominate you."

Bucky's fingers grip yours tighter, you inhale only because you are forced to breathe.

How could you not have seen this?

"But, I also think how funny then, that we may walk among them wearing the symbols they find acceptable knowing what they mean to us…" He turns the bag over and lets two rings drop into his hand. "I will have to wait for mine, but only if you both accept yours first." He smiles.

Your breath shudders from your lungs with the shock and thrill of what is happening. You can not believe this is happening…

"I've teased you before." He says to Bucky, gently taking his Vibranium hand, "Saying marriage would be the only way to settle that temper down, but I would never dream of changing you. You are exactly as you should be, and I'm lucky you put up with me long enough to fall in love, as opposed to killing me right away." He laughs softly.

Bucky laughs too, even though you spot the thin line of tears as he sits up.

"And so for you, I chose, something dark…" He palms what you know is your ring and instead holds the smoky black band, unpolished but smooth around its edges with a large black diamond, square cut and flush mounted perfectly within the band, but jaw dropping for anyone lucky enough to stand close to Bucky. Helmut smiles, all three of you looking at it, "At first, it seems understated, but there is so much to see, so much to admire when you hold it just right. It is, moody," he chuckles, and you put your fingers to your lips, pressed tight to your smile, "But stunning and unbreakable to remind you when you forget, that no matter how many times they've tried Bucky, no one has ever broken you. Not truly"

"Is it?"

"Vibranium?" Helmut nods "I called in a favor. "No friend of mine," he says with a laugh that only he knows the story behind, "But you have more than earned your place in the hearts of some powerful people in Wakanda, especially one very enthusiastic princess."

Bucky can not hold back, he hangs his head with the tears that fall.

"James." Helmut looks him over. He lifts his chin and wipes his cheek with the back of his fingers. "You have been mine for close to three years now by choice. And I thank you every day for choosing to come, and to stay and for giving us a chance, But I fear, greedy man that I am —Only a lifetime of you would be enough for me.” Helmut holds the ring just an inch away from his finger and looks into his eyes “I love you James, and I would very much like to marry you… will you marry me?”

Bucky exhales, shaking his head no from the shock as he laughs, letting that shake become a nod. His eyes get big as he looks at Helmut like he almost can’t believe he’s said these things and finally with a deep breath he manages to answer, "Yes." He sighs, letting the Baron slide the band onto his finger, and surprising you both, he goes onto his knees throwing his arms around the man's shoulders.

You wipe your face and grab his hand, pulling it further around, staring at the ring, amazed that anything could be so beautiful.

"Don't move," Helmut says when you swing your legs over the side of the bed.

"Tissue," you nod towards the bathroom.

"No," he says, and you grin. He really has this planned out. He pulls you back up and you fall back laughing through your tears.

"I've gotten one yes, no one leaves this bed until I have two answers."

Yes, you beautiful idiot, you think but lay against the pillows biting your bottom lip, making fists to keep your hands from shaking.

Helmut rubs your knee; Bucky moves aside looking down on you with such love, probably looking just like you did during his proposal.

What is there left to say? What could Helmut possibly have for you after that? You don't care if all he does is ask those four words, but you can't deny wanting a little something…

Helmut is looking at you; his hand glides up your thigh and leaves to bring yours up from the bed spread. He uncurls your fingers and holds it in his own as he speaks. "So what do you choose for the woman who, when she walks into the room, becomes its center."

You sink back into the pillows feeling the heat of his attention rising. You roll your eyes, but only because it's wonderfully embarrassing. If this is how he sees you, then so be it, your wide grin reflects this.

"Something that highlights what is her natural beauty, not distracts," He says, and with a smooth maneuver of his fingers, brings your ring forward, holding it between his thumb, middle, and pointer for you to see. You gasp without opening your mouth. Helmut smiles when he sees how you look at the ring. The band is very simple; it is the three oval diamonds that make you think you might black out. "I thought perhaps one, but well, you know I have a problem with controlling myself when it comes to you," He says, and there are so many layers to that statement, you both smile. "Three may seem obvious, but do you see how the two hold the middle in place, keep it safe and secure while letting it shine brightest?"

You give your best attempt at a nod as Bucky comes close. He can't stay away and moves in to put his arm around you holding you up as Helmut goes on.

"But as glorious as that center diamond is, without the two on either side it is alone, beautiful in its singularity but— once you've seen them all together, you can not imagine the three apart. Just as the two would look utterly ridiculous without their center."

You look up into his eyes, and he gently brings your hand closer, holding the ring just above your finger like a halo.

"You’ve always been the reason for our happiness after so much… pain and darkness. You brought light back to my life when I did not want to see it. You were the first woman to love me after I thought no one ever would again. The world looked at me and saw someone to fear; you looked into my eyes, and you did not turn away." His tears sparkle along his lashes like the diamonds in your ring. "I was not a monster. I was me. Just me." His voice is so light, you break first and start to cry. "I'd forgotten what it felt like…Four years later, and you still look at me that way." He says and wipes his eyes quickly before taking your hand again. "You are smarter, funnier, kinder, and more willing to give love with such selflessness…" He hangs his head not wanting to let his words get lost "I don't know that I've ever done anything to deserve you or the way you love, I don't know that I ever will. But I will try. I promise that I will try everyday if you give me the years it will take— for the rest of my life I will try as the man who cares for you, protects you, respects you, adores you,” you both smile, “and loves you deeply if, you will marry me?"

The sound of your name on his lips for a lifetime? Yes yes and yes again.

"Yes." You whisper and then laugh. "Yes of course I will." You say watching, eyes round as plates as he slides that fucking show stopper onto your finger.

Your hand stays fixed in the air as you stare at it and then up at him. "It's beautiful. Too much but everything… It's perfect. They are both perfect." You manage and reach up to pull him down into a kiss.

This is the ending you’d feared? You laugh as your mouths meet again and again. You must have known?

Bucky wipes Helmut’s face, kissing him hard just above you.

How could you not have known you wonder, laughing as you lose track of time.

You gasp from the tickle of hands and mouths.

When you saw him, standing in the balcony at the concert you sensed something. You knew— but this ?!

Your ring shines as you slide your fingers through his hair and close your eyes letting him take your mouth with his again, completely undone by the passion of his joy filled kiss. You don’t think he’s ever smiled so much while kissing you this hard.

By the time you all come up for air your face is wet —from whose tears you can't say— but the three of you are lying in bed together, angry that you have to part.

There's hardly time to say goodbye. Shit, how can you possibly have to say goodbye? But it must be said. Damn them and their responsibility. You want to have them both, your beautiful men.

You kiss Bucky and ruffle his messy hair, thick and grown somewhere between long and short, and something suddenly strikes you.

"Wait. What about us?" You say, sitting up.

"What?"

"Us, you and I. Based on the makeup of our relationship it's only natural that we're marrying Helmut," You pause to look down at him lying between you and Bucky and press your palm to his face "But, we're committing to one another as well? Right?"

Bucky smiles. "Are you serious?"

"Very."

Bucky laughs, knowing that you are and takes your hand shaking his head "Well, I don't have a ring and, I'll never have one to compare with that, but, how about this; a second band for us both. Would you like to pick them out together?"

You let out a shriek that makes him cringe like he always does when your voice hits that octave. You hop up onto your knees, throwing your arms around his neck, and plant a kiss on his lips. "Are you asking then?"

"I guess I am."

"Yes!" You say and from his sprawled out spot on the bed Helmut sighs and slaps your ass making you jump.

"You mean it was that simple? That's all I had to say?"

You both look down at him, all gorgeous and fully aware of it. His hair is messy now from the heated session. You lay down at his side not wanting him to think you don't appreciate every word of his beautiful proposal, and here is Bucky following only seconds behind.

"Yes, that's all, but I'm thankful for every word." You say, pleased to see his eyes close as you nuzzle his neck.

He gives a soft moan, and you feel Bucky's hands glide over your own and up Helmuts torso. "Let us show you." He says in that soft voice that drives both you and the Baron wild. "Please."

Helmut groans and lifts his head. You peek down to see the top of Bucky's as he gives an example of exactly what he means, inching towards the looped belt of the robe.

"I would like nothing more," Helmut says sinking deeper into the pillows." But, there really is no time. We both have to get dressed. We have to get to the jet. We have to reach her before this goes to shit and our plan is ruined."

"Five minutes," You whine and kiss his neck, sucking a little and licking. He hisses and moans again and you know Bucky is doing something nice because his gasp is the sort that could easily lead to more, but then the tone changes.

He says your names, and you both pull away, knowing he won't warn you again and if he has to you'll suffer later. You go to your knees and Bucky sits up, both of you with your heads down. Helmut gets up and you wait until you feel him touch your face. "Nothing, absolutely nothing would please me more than to completely destroy you both right now," He says relaxing into a grin, you hold in your own. "But, this is important." He looks at Bucky. "You know that."

Bucky gives in with a nod.

"Let's go."

With a kiss on the cheek for you, Bucky gets up and heads for the shower but Helmut stays behind.

"Come here," he says and you go to him, letting him take your face in hand. "When we come back, things will really begin to change. I can't help thinking about the interview. How you did it to quiet the rumors and critics. That will never change. You know that right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"I want you to be ready for it. You'll be my wife soon, legally Mrs. Zemo." He says looking at you like he might cry all over again and it stirs the emotion for you too. "Just promise me this won't change," He slides his hands up your thighs emphasizing you on your knees. "Don't let them tell you this is wrong. This is who we are. You are the strongest woman I know, and should you ever want out, should you ever want it to stop I will not stand in your way. I want nothing but your happiness if I haven't already made that clear." He says making you smile, "It is, hard for me to put into words how much I'm looking forward to coming home to you, but knowing that the sooner we put this mess with the Contessa behind us, the sooner I can resume planning my future with you, and James makes me— well happy." He smiles, lips brushing yours. "I want to be your husband. More than anything else I've wanted in a very long time. Yours and his. Please, promise you'll be here when we get back, that you won't listen to what the world tells you."

Your tears fall, wetting both your lips. You hold onto his wrist; his hands are holding you so tight. “Helmut Zemo, how dare you.” You whisper heavy, you reach between his arms and push against his chest. "You know I am no different from you. If a single person tries to shame me, let them. Either they'll be ignored or regret every word. You and Bucky are my heart." You push your fingers against his warm, soft skin. "I would do the very same as you did if anyone took you from me. No one will ever change my mind. I chose this, and I chose you. I am yours. I get on my knees for you and I stand tall for myself. Don't ever say this to me again."

Slowly, he lets go and sits beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He holds you tight, and you cradle his head to your chest until Bucky comes back.

"Helmut?"

He lifts his head. "Yes, sorry. I'm coming."

He looks up at you. His eyes a little red, the look of worry gone at least. "I love you,"

"I love you so much Helmut."

He kisses you again very lightly, glancing over at Bucky. "What time is it?" He asks mushed against your mouth.

Bucky crosses his arms stifling his laugh. Helmut could just as easily do it but he asks the smart device who tells you that it's nine thirty.

"Good." Helmut has an arm around you looking up. "For her," he says, trailing his fingers down the space between your breasts to your belly which he rubs gently. "I only need two minutes." You feel it already. Helmut turns to Bucky who is breathing harder. "You..." He smiles "I need five. You're high maintenance." Bucky pulls a face that makes you laugh. "Somewhere in there, is time for me and soap and water for us to clean up," He insists and bends to wrap his arm tight around you, clutching your thighs. He stands, making you shriek and hoists you over his shoulder.

"Come on Sergeant. Time is of the essence."

Your hands press to the shower glass. All you see are the diamonds on your finger— all you feel are his inside of you, beckoning the orgasm, willing you to come.

Soap slides down your arms as your hands curl to fists and your head falls back.

Bucky is there to cradle your head as you cry Helmuts name, thankful for their bodies so capable of keeping you from falling and so ready for you to make them feel just as good.

From his knee, Helmut just smiles; watching, listening, enjoying the way his future wife comes undone in just under two minutes.

"Ready miss?" Petra asks with her hand on your shoulder, gently coaxing you to turn away. You're on the roof, and the helicopter is waiting which made your initial desire for a penthouse easier to stomach for Zemo. You smile, remembering how happy he was to show you and Bucky the place for the first time.

You can't leave, though, not until they board and the door shuts. You move her hand and walk towards the cold gusts of wind, pulling your coat up onto your bare shoulders, letting the fur tickle your cheeks as you watch them go.

God you hate to see it, but you could watch the way they make an exit all day.

So you stand there in your bare feet and underwear, cold but ignoring it, wrapped in a coat of value you don't want to know, clutching it closed.

"I want to see them off. I want to wait." You say, not looking to see if she's still there.

The wind makes Zemo's coat fly back and shows his hard strut in those heavy black boots. He doesn't wear it so often anymore, just for missions like this one, but when he does, you see how another part of him comes alive. He's speaking to Bucky, gesturing with his gloved hands, the black and dark purple leather similar to the ones you'd once bitten down on in a tiny fitting room here in Manhattan. You smile and watch him hand a phone to Bucky, probably with some intel on it. He takes it with his vibranium hand to scroll with the warmth of his right, and you imagine his ring blending in, beautifully camouflaged until noticed and then it is all a person can see. He's back in his uniform of utilitarian leather, marching beside his fiancé, his dom, the man he loves. It doesn't exactly show, but little things give it away. The way Bucky looks at him as he talks, the way Zemo holds the door open for him. There is a connection between them that can not be denied, and they have never once denied it.

They climb into the helicopter that will take them from you.

You don't think they notice that you've come out, but they do, and when he sees you first, Helmut smiles and holds up his hand to give you a single wave goodbye.

Bucky looks over and smiles too, triggering a beautiful memory of them in the shower that you can still feel…

Helmut is beside Bucky, coaxing him with that husky whisper, as he works him until you pull Bucky down into a kiss to catch the breath of his climax. It had been easy for Helmut to make him come after he'd watched you melt down on the Baron's skilled hand and Helmut teased and toyed with him until he was so hard the touch of the water was nearly enough to get him off.

Helmut pushed Bucky to his knees so fast Bucky came into the spray of the shower, still throbbing as he sank down— the sight of him clinging to Helmuts thighs with his ring shining in the water will stay with you always. And when Helmut was very close, he pulled from Bucky’s mouth, spun you around, tossed you against the wall, raised your leg and shoved inside to leave you breathless for the few hard thrust that ended with you full, and still feeling sticky at the top of your thighs …

They boarded the helicopter with one minute to spare.

Bucky types something out on his phone, looks up and waves.

The black metal bird lifts, and they are gone.

Back inside you are thankful for the dogs and the cat and consider calling your mom but first, you want to read the text from Bucky.

It's a picture of you. He took it so quickly you didn't even realize he had.

You look beautiful doll. Helmut says close that coat a little tighter before we change our minds.

You laugh alone, sitting at the kitchen table and look at the picture again.

Is this how they see you?

From this view, you almost understand how you keep them looking— trailing after you like some lovesick boys in the halls of high school. You imagine Bucky eyeing your leg that peeks out from the unbuttoned slit up to your thigh. You think Helmut might have been admiring the curve of your shoulder just before you pulled the coat back up, how the sun-kissed your skin and grazed your neck…

You've seen pictures of yourself that they've taken on their phones before. Some good, some bad, some so bad you've nearly murdered them until they promised to delete them. But this one shows how they see you before they go and you're happy that all it shows is love.

Looking over at the city, you sigh, thinking of them off to face who the hell knows what, but it won't be long, they will be back and you will be waiting for them. You made a promise which you very much intend to keep. You belong to him —to them— and no one will ever convince you otherwise.

"Now." You turn and look back at Alpine, flicking her tail on the table looking at you. "How does one go about planning a queer poly superhero wedding?" You ask, resting your chin on your fist rubbing her head.

Alpine purrs and blinks, turns her head, and yawns.

"Yeah. Maybe a nap, then we'll call in reinforcements. I'm pretty sure between my girls from home and me, we'll figure it out. But first my sweet snow ball." You say, picking up the heavy floof of soft fur who purrs over your shoulder. You carry her to the sprawling pink velvet sectional and go to your corner that smells like Bucky after you fell asleep next to him last night. "We take a little nap and dream about the rest of our lives."

You call out for an alarm to be set so that you don’t over sleep. There are other things happening today after all. The excitement of an engagement doesn’t change that, you smile as you settle.

While your men are off being global anti-hero’s. You have just a few hours before your volunteer shift at the art center begins. No it’s not stopping the end of the world or supremist, but your entire existence can not revolve around superheroes or people trying not to be supers not that you’ve got an address and a local deli. So you've found something of your own, helping in a way that you truly enjoy.

You find it easy, to show up and offer your time. It’s so much more valuable than money, although you give that too. Still, the groundwork is what you love; watching beauty sprout from young minds not altered or effected by serum or hatred, just hope and nurturing it in the ways you know how… You sit and listen to the wisdom of people who have lived through the sort of things the three of you would run from and in some cases run towards. But you make sure their stories are not forgotten and that their art is seen in some way, be it by friends, family or strangers in the park. It is rewarding and it is yours alone. Your secret —since everyone else gets to have one— you’ll tell them when the time is right.

Until then, you’ll continue doing as you please because it pleases you.

Snuggling down into the couch, you smile at your animals and close your eyes thinking one familiar but distant question.

How the hell did you end up here?

It's actually not a silly question when you think about it anymore. You know exactly how and why.

The reason and the answer is all around you. His scent, his energy, little pieces of the life you've made together and with your beautiful winter soldier. From the penthouse in Madripoor to this one, you've come a long way together— you still have so far to go.

So, thank you for reading this impossibly long beast of a story! I had 0 intentions of making it drag on so long, but I could NOT stop. Even still I see a pic of either of these men and the wheels start turning lol. But no, for now i'm done. Again, you're all awesome, thanks for the love, I'm sending it right back to you!

#fatws #Baron Zemo #james buchanan barnes #winterbaron #reader insert #sub bucky #sub reader #dom zemo #baron zemo fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #polyamourus pride #threesome romance #winterbaron x you #zemo x reader #bucky barnes x you #happy endings #happy beginnings

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cherryblossomtease · 2 years

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Pleasures Remain, So Does the Pain

Chapter 25

warnings and summary - masterlist

Authors Notes: The final two chapters! Fluff and drama and well, you know... I suppose this is a warning for lots of plot to tie it all up--Just like Zemo would if you break a rule-- but I think they are deserving of a real ending after everything they've been through and I hope you like it as much as I love to write it!

The wild antics of the week prove to be a very cruel reminder of the yacht. All of this deviant fun… all of this love, and all of it ending soon. It’s getting old honestly.

Quiet times like this afternoon are even worse. All there is to do is think. And now, as your mid-day movie has been interrupted— speculate.

“How long until he lets us in on that conversation?” Bucky asks you from his spot on the couch. He’s lying on his back, arm behind his head, one leg up over the back cushions. You’re curled up at the other end picking at your slouchy socks and peek over your knees. The movie plays on but you’re both only half watching now, instead too busy trying to listen to Zemo who is pacing in the garden just outside the den where you’d all come down earlier.

The room is below ground level with black metal steps perfect contrast to the soft vintage warmth of the room that leads up and out to the small green space behind the house. When Zemo answered his phone, he kept it cool and slipped out the smoky glass door, but try as he might, his behavior didn’t go unnoticed. It was all too— easy.

You both have been trying to hear, but it’s damn near impossible, even with the volume of the tv turned down low.

“Stop snoring Ada” You grumble and drop your foot from the brown leather sofa giving her a little shove. It works for all of half a second before she opens one blue eye, snorts and falls back asleep to snore again.

“Business?” You try guessing.

Zemo has his back to you now, standing there with his hand in his pocket looking at a bird in the bath maybe? He’s tense, that’s for sure. “Maybe it’s got something to do with the attack from Bruno? Or maybe even the Power Broker again?” You glance over at Bucky and see how these names draw him out of his relaxed state and back into his ever dangerous reality. He slowly pulls himself up to sitting.

“You shouldn’t worry about that stuff.” He dismisses your guesses, glancing at you before looking at Zemo, with a tightly clenched fist you notice. It’s such a natural reflex he probably doesn’t even realize it anymore, but you’ll always see how he protects you both.

“What do you mean?” You ask, ignoring the fist, focusing on his profile.

“Really, you leave this stuff to us and we’ll keep you safe…” He mumbles sitting back. Bucky grabs the remote from the side table and mutes the tv. “You don’t need to get involved”

“That’s very insulting. I would expect better from you Barnes.” You say not actually offended, but you can’t let it slide. Still, you can see he’s just talking to talk. Bucky’s worried and saying nonsense. He knows you’re too deep in the mud to ever get out and you’d never want to.

Bucky pulls a face, clearly confused. “Wait…What’d you say?” You don’t even think he knows he’s been talking, he’s too focused on trying to read Zemo’s lips.

“Bucky, I’m a grown woman, it would be dangerous and pretty irresponsible if I didn’t know who was after us all the time. Or should I say who’s after Helmut. Shit it could be Sam for all I know, calling to say hi before the Dora Milaje come to haul him back to the raft.”

“That’s not fair.” He says, sounding hurt as he sits up straight.

You bite your lip and look away. It wasn’t. But neither is implying you’re just the little woman who shouldn’t worry her pretty head about big scary man problems. But just as quickly as it’s been casually implied, Bucky takes it back. He’s never been that sort of man and he’s not going to start now, “I’m sorry.” He says shaking off the weird energy and reaches over to give your knee a rub. “I don’t even know why I said that. I’m just worried. Of course you know.”

“Me too.” You say with a little smile that he gives right back. You aren’t even mad. The fact is the trio is off balance and it has you both stressed.

“He’ll tell us.” Bucky announces, sounding all rainbows and sunshine. He’s not nearly so grumpy these days but this is a bit much even for him. “He keeps secrets but not for long.”

You toss a hard side-eye glance that says otherwise and Bucky sighs, leaning back, tossing the remote onto the couch. “Yeah, I know, don’t say it. But… damn it. I thought maybe he might have stopped doing this by now.” His exasperation is palpable.

“I know.” You’d hoped so too “Im sure he will, and maybe he has? Maybe he’ll walk back in here and tell us every single detail.” You say, both of you staring out the door. “But sometimes Buck, it’s just easier to not ask for answers. Sometimes, I just let it slide and let him spoil me with a life in private planes, and fancy New York apartments, yachts and French villas while he ties me up” You say and curl back up on the couch watching Zemo gesture while he talks on the phone. “What?” You see how Bucky’s looking at you.

“Nothing.” He says with a tone, palms up, looking away.

“It’s not nothing.” You slide your foot over to push his leg. Bucky gives you that pained smile. He’ll never say anything to hurt your feelings, so you say it for him, because you know exactly what he’s thinking. “Not very progressive I know.” You shrug “But there are times when the most powerful thing a woman can do is choose when and how she wants to take on life’s bullshit.” You say shaking your head and he gives a little laugh agreeing, sounding almost jealous. “Funny isn’t it. How we’re all given choices in life. So many really… And here we are.” You look at Helmut, you look at Bucky. “Give me a thousand different scenarios that end with Helmut offering me a seat while I was working at the bar and I’d take it every time. And if your heroics got you on board his plane, I would look you in the eye and know the moment I saw you smile for the first time, that I’d never choose anyone else.” His profile relaxes and you smile to see his response “I love you both, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, just like you, just like him. So now here we are wondering if he’s outside talking to someone who could be a possible threat. We’ll worry; he’ll tell us it’s nothing and it won’t be. It’ll be something all right. Shit will hit the fan and we’ll hopefully live long enough to do it all over again.”

Bucky’s been staring down at the floor while you’re talking, but looks up when Zemo comes to stand at the door— the hand that was in his pocket slipping free to touch the glass. You don’t know what he’s up to, but at least his smile is genuine.

And then you notice; whatever the person on the other line is saying must be something awful, because it keeps the warmth from reaching Helmut’s eyes. Not even the sight of you and Bucky can make him feel the love that keeps the cold at bay.

“Okay,” you sit up “Scratch all of that. What the hell is this about?” You ask, keeping your voice low.

His gaze fixed firmly on the glass door, Bucky waves once at Zemo “Honestly doll, I have no idea…”

He’d been too obvious. You are far too observant and Bucky is —well he’s Bucky. Nothing gets past him when it comes to sneaking around. But Zemo hadn’t been expecting the call so soon even though he’d been the one to set it up, she’d called early. Probably to throw him off, which she had.

He couldn’t take it in front of the two of you, so he’d done what he had to do and left the den for the garden to have a conversation he’d not exactly been looking forward to but was certainly not about to miss.

Now, three minutes in he found himself remembering why he’d gotten up and left Valentina alone in the cafe a few weeks ago. Perhaps he should have let the assassin shoot her…

“Don’t get cocky Contessa.” He replied to something snarky she’d said. “Yes I’m giving you another chance, but that’s all this is. A chance, not a guarantee.”

“If your ability to keep that gorgeous girl and the winter soldier happy is any indication, I wouldn’t dream of bringing cocks into the conversation Baron.”

He paused to smile but chose to ignore the backhanded compliment . “You have ten minutes.”

Even though you’re reluctant, you and Bucky finally let Zemo’s strange behavior from a few days ago slide. You assume Bucky has his own reasons for not wanting to push the issue, and you just can’t give another ounce of energy to fearing things beyond your control. Not this time.

In the end, Zemo insisted everything was fine. The phone call was just about making sure his security measures were in place and he swears again and again that the three of you are as safe as you ever were.

You accept his word as truth, quickly realizing that this might be the longest stretch of time on dry land you’ve gone not thinking about who these men are to the rest of the world, because here —in this beautiful villa on this lovely bay— they are simply Helmut and James and you are the woman lucky enough to be loved by them. So what if there are probably mercenaries or assassins or gang leaders or hell; kings, presidents, and galactic emperors on their way to ruin everything you have. For now, your life is yours to control and you choose to live it happily, until the aforementioned bastards force you to retaliate.

Until then, going to the market in the early mornings has become your favorite form of living normally. Luckily the summer has cooled into a beautifully warm autumn but with enough of a chill that Bucky can just about get away with wearing a light sweater with his gloves and ball cap and be dismissed as a stylishly strange American without getting too many looks.

Up at seven you beat what’s left of the tourists to the oceanside, where the locals know you and Zemo well enough that you’re treated like you belong; waving hello as you ask after their children, offering advice on how to get an old car started, haggling over the cost of their goods like they would anyone else— sometimes you feel as if you’ve always lived here…

“Ten minutes is more than enough. Speaking of… you’re living on borrowed time Zemo. Life is good now, but I’m sure you’re aware of what’s coming. The people looking for you are getting closer. They aren’t as inept as you might think, and they won’t be kind when they find you. I’m not claiming to offer you protection beyond what you already have, but what I am offering is a chance to wipe the slate clean so that when they do realize where you are, they won’t be able to toss you into prison quite so easily.”

"Very few people hold that sort of authority without asking for too much in return which would leave me in a less than desirable position. You see I don’t answer to anyone with very— very few exceptions.”

“You wouldn’t have to. All that we ask Baron, is that when we call, you be available.”

“That is the very definition of answering,” He said with a dry laugh.

Valentina snickered into the phone irritating him. “Can I be blunt with you?” She asked

“Please.” He said only slightly distracted by the sight of you and Bucky pretending to watch t.v. It’s cute, you’d never be able to hear him through the doors, but he liked watching you try.

“What I’m offering you is a chance to live. I don’t propose to know what you’d like to do with a second chance, but I know you went through a lot to get them there by your side. No no don’t worry your secret is still very safe with me,” She said quickly cutting him off before he could protest “I happen to be a romantic myself.”

Zemo clenched his jaw involuntarily; a predator's response to being threatened as his eyes narrowed.

“Being able to live with them— with him— and not have to look over your shoulder every day should be incentive enough. You scratch our back Baron, and we will scratch yours.”

You like to watch the way Bucky and Zemo share fresh bread from the cart in front of the bakery; tearing pieces still warm from the ovens as you head for the stalls, Bucky offering you as much as you can stand, always happy to feed you, kiss you, love you…

You think, this is what makes Zemo most at ease. Seeing the two of you so happy together in this paradise. You catch the occasional glimpse of his smile reserved for you and Bucky together —it’s different from the way he looks at you separately— it reminds you of the wistful gaze he sometimes slips into while remembering his family…

Bucky has a habit of brushing bread crumbs from his gloved hands onto his pants and you think one day Zemo is going to strangle him. Your little quirks bother him, Bucky’s drive him mad. Try as he might to ignore it, you see the way Zemo’s right eye twitches as he watches Bucky dirty his jeans with buttery crumbs and it makes you laugh every time.

And then just as quickly, the sound of Bucky’s breathing, no, blustering, like an old bull, fills your ears as you enter the market. He gets so impatient because Helmut has to try every odd looking delicacy there is to be sampled. But, for every grumble and eye roll there is a smile. Good luck not being charmed by Helmut Zemo around good food. That expressive face wins Bucky over every time and he ends up listening to Helmut translate the names and descriptions right along with you, pretending to care and sometimes, he actually does.

This, is family. The annoying bits and funny parts. The beautiful sight of the man you love taking the hand of the other, dragging him across a market aisle to look at some fruit that has just come into season while he mouths the words “help me.” This is why Helmut looks at the two of you the way he does when you come here together — just to catch a glimpse of what your life could be if you were able to live in one place long enough to take root.

You eat up the fantasy like Bucky wolfing down fresh bread and Zemo trying some unidentifiable delight.

“Why me?” Zemo asked and turned towards the door. He could see you nudging Ada with your foot and knew instantly that the dog was snoring. She always snores, the sweet awful thing. He loves that damn dog. Her and Lou.

What have you and Bucky done to him…

“Why not you?” Valentina declared.

“I asked first.”

Val laughed. “Well. To be honest, with the avengers gone, you’re the closest thing to a wealthy beneficiary we’ve got.”

“What makes you think so? The royal line of my family was blown to shit when the avengers destroyed my country.”

“Please, don’t insult me. I know your history, your family’s wealth runs deep; all the way back to your fathers German roots and your mother’s royal Sokovian title. The day your wells run dry— well lets just say, It’ll be generations before the Zemo name is not synonymous with the life of luxury. Oh that is of course if you choose to continue the line? Try again?” Her toothy grin could be heard through the phone.

“Careful.” He warned, his voice like a blade.

The line went quiet “I’m sorry that was a little below the belt, pun absolutely not intended”

He looked at you and for just a second Helmut allowed himself to imagine you as a mother, but he was not so foolish as to let Valentina into his head that easily. Not to mention her math wasn’t adding up. “So, you’re claiming to need my money. Although if the person you’re working for has the sort of power to change my life, I can’t imagine their wealth does not surpass my own… unless they fear they will lose that power. And very soon.” He paused, finger pressed to his lips as he redid the calculation. The pieces were starting to come together again just in a new shape.“And— something else. Tell me what more you need Contessa.”

“Just you Zemo. All that natural wit and charm. And… Maybe a little bit of that brilliance that you brought to the special forces when you led Eko Scorpion.”

He leaned back with a long sigh, satisfied to be finally getting down to it. “I thought as much.”

“You thought right, as usual.”

“You’re looking for a leader. That’s what this is.”

“I can take you all so far, but I can’t always be there when shit hits the fan. Not like someone whose been in the battle can, not to mention they don’t all trust me. Can’t say I blame them. But you, you they seem to gravitate towards. You’re one of them. The righteous villain. A man who does not claim to be innocent just misunderstood. They need your guidance Zemo. We need it.”

As you make your way through the stalls together, the highlight of interacting with the people is always Zemo’s ability to swear in multiple languages when he doesn’t get the price he wants. The heated argument with the local fish monger being the pièce de résistance.

Bucky saves a scene being made by pulling him away into the little side street laughing as he kisses him until Zemo gives in and calms, kissing him back. “That was the dumbest, sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Bucky says grinning at him.

“What? Fighting because he was trying to sell me two day old fish?” Zemo says towards the market as if the man can still hear him, all that fire coming back in seconds.

“No” Bucky laughs again as he grabs Zemo’s shirt to pull him close. “You yelling in French.”

“You should hear him fuck in French.” You tease walking past, leaving Bucky to pick his jaw up off the ground.

“You never used French on me!” He whines as Zemo gently pushes him away and follows you towards the cafe which is where your shopping always ends. Espresso, lattes and fresh croissants.

“You never asked me to.” He smirks eyes ahead on the main road.

“I didn’t know it was an option!”

“Who? Who needs me?”

“Our group. Our… Super-antiheros. I keep giving them names but they think they all sound corny.”

He turned his back on the two of you, now lost in your own conversation as his agitation with Valentina grew. “I don’t work with supers of any sort. You’ve done nothing but waste our time today.”

“I know I know, not your choice of company. But listen to me. They want a chance just as badly as you.”

“What don’t you understand?” He seethed, “I brought them down. Why would I join them now?” Zemo demanded.

The line was silent and he saw it as a moment to calm himself. He took a breath and quietly told her,“twice now you’ve come to me, and twice I’ve had to say, your time is up.”

“Wait.” She could hear it in his voice. He would not give her a third chance. “Helmut listen. What’s being put together will never work without someone like you.” She was trying but he could still hear her putting it on a little too thick. “We need more than money all right? We need— someone to center us— a home to come back to if you will. Funny, home can be anywhere when you’ve got something to fight for and someone to remind you of it. You’d be surprised what you might have in common if you give us the chance to lay it all out and, as promised, extend that pardon you so desperately need.”

Zemo rubbed his face and shrugged. “Never knew you were the sentimental type Valentina, it’s a little unsettling.”

She laughed “Yeah it did feel a little weird… Okay look, I’ve got a team. They’re going to need a little guidance sometimes and pretty soon, we’re gonna need your fucking money Baron.”

“I’m sorry. I’m simply not interested.”

“Are you sure Helmut? Because this may be the last chance you get. They may not always be there.”

You look back at them and grin as Helmut and Bucky step out of the shadows and onto the sunny sidewalk. Bucky keeps grumbling until Zemo laughs and gives him a playful slap on the ass which does nothing to stop Bucky’s little fit.

With a smirk, Zemo grabs his arm to pull him close as you walk beside them holding his other hand and your bag of groceries.

“Ask me the right way and I’ll fuck you in whichever language you’d like.” He says quietly, his lips brushing Bucky’s ear, but you’re pretty sure the two women passing hear and all three of you smile as they slow down, eyes wide looking scandalized.

“Think they recognized me?” Bucky asks glancing back, giving a polite nod, trying to look as un-Bucky like as possible. You notice how he’s shoved his gloved hand into his pocket.

“One, I’m pretty sure that’s the last thing they were thinking.” You say amused that he could be so oblivious as Zemo opens the door of the cafe gently ushering you in. “And two, I think they’re trying to understand how to find a man like this one to grab them and whisper into their ears.” You say easing the tension as you turn and slide your hand up Zemo’s arm to curve it over his shoulder.

“Easy,” He warns in a drawn out rumble. “We’re in public.” He says, both hands on your hips, eyes scanning the room. He doesn’t look at you but he kisses you all the same. Just enough to make you give the softest little moan which melts into a laugh.

“Yes Baron.” You say mocking the role you love as you roll your eyes. You get a light tap on your backside too.

“Go sit. Both of you.” Zemo says nodding hello to the barista behind the counter as he waves you and Bucky towards the tables like a father dismissing his annoying children.

The smiles you and Bucky exchange are the same ones that often got you in trouble on the yacht. But this is real life and you have to play by more sets of rules than just his, at least for now, but whose to say what will happen when you retreat to the wild safety of home.

“You love to push don’t you.” Zemo sighs into the phone.

“I have to, You’re stubborn as hell.”

“I’m not so much stubborn as I am a man of conviction.”

“So I keep hearing. Listen, I don’t know how else to say it. This is the sort of offer men like you don’t get every day and sure as hell not from women like me.”

Zemo has been watching a bird bathe in the old stone bath as he listens to Valentina plead her case. He is growing impatient. She’s not far off track from the plan he’s laid out, but he wants more answers now. “Who sent you? Really? Who is this we?”

“Really and truly? I can’t tell you. Not yet. Not until we have a real agreement. But what I’m saying is this. If you offer your— services— and please don’t be modest we both know you’re not only a man of means but a man of skill and intelligence. The person or persons who sent me are very much willing to keep you out of the hands of the other people still looking to send you back underwater.”

“For nothing more than leadership and money eh?” He deadpans knowing there is so much more to the simplicity of it than that.

“And you can have your life back.”

“My life was taken.”

“So start a new one.”

THE LAST DAY

“Wheres my bag?” Bucky asks sitting on the edge of the bed, clearly not in the mood for games. His only reply is the sound of the rain outside.

Of course it’s raining. The damn weather thought it would be funny to make the day even more depressing than it already is.

Zemo sits on the chair at your dressing table sipping his tea looking far too calm and collected. “The black duffle?”

“Yeah, Helmut, the only one I have.” Bucky shoots him a look.

You’re standing in the doorway with your arms crossed just watching them.

“It’s the one I came here with.” He says inching towards real anger. When there’s still no follow up answer, Bucky stops looking around and glares at Helmut.

You on the other hand are simply suspicious. Something is up, you can practically taste it.

Zemo shrugs. “I’m sure Oeznik has put it with the rest of the luggage.” He sips his tea.

“What? He knows I’m leaving today.” Bucky says looking around as if the old man is hiding in the room just waiting to pop out and explain why he’s suddenly hidden his bag.

You however are not interested in playing games. This day is already bleak enough. “All right Helmut, this would be funny if it weren’t happening now. But it is, so stop. What’s going on?” You ask walking towards him.

Zemo swings his gaze up at you and the look… it makes you pause mid step. Why are you smiling? It’s a weak, uncertain smile that wavers and breaks quickly but you feel it. In that moment, you know that something has changed.

Call it intuition, but you find yourself wondering about that phone call.

"So start a new one."

"I've already started that life, Contessa. There's nothing you can offer that I don't already have." He glances up to find you looking at him. Helmut is drawn to you. He goes to the glass door, looks in at you sitting on the couch just a little sleepy, even a bit sweet in your t-shirt and socks with the dogs at your feet, and James —Bucky— is sprawled across the sofa next to you like the vision of perfection itself in his sweats and t-shirt.

This is it. This is everything he'd planned for while in the raft, put into motion and coming together, just as he'd calculated so meticulously. Then why does it feel wrong? Was this not what he wanted? Yes, he has a life. But it's a life lived in pieces, connected by infrequent phone calls and worry over your safety while trying to make the most of a few days without any promise of when the next time will be.

How long could this really last? When will you both want more? Stability, true security, something other than running? Bucky is tired; you will be. Hell, maybe you'll find that peace with each other... Clearing your name would be a lot easier than the name of Helmut Zemo, and once it's done, you could leave for New York; lay low for a while. You'd wait until it's safe to come to visit of course, but when you do, you and Bucky will find him a lonely man with no one but his dogs — His dogs?

"Jebiga," Zemo huffed, raking his fingers through his hair, tugging his head back to look up at the cloudless sky. He should have just stayed in the raft. And then, when he dropped his chin with another sigh, there was James, looking him in the eye from inside the den; those baby blues piercing his heart, and you, who will love him no matter what it seems, trying very hard not to look as concerned as you really are.

"Fuck indeed, Baron Zemo." Valentina's knowledge of Sokovian foul language and her grating voice came through the phone with the light fluff of her laughter. "But don't worry. It seems you do have a way of getting everything you want."

"Helmut," Bucky says his name with a threatening tone you've never heard. You think maybe he hasn't said it like that since they were enemies. "What'd you do?" He accuses from the bed, hands on his knees, ready to spring into action.

Zemo raises his hand palm up. "What anyone in my position would do. I gave up."

"What?" The nervous disbelief twists your face as you lean away. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Give up isn't in your vocabulary," Bucky adds, his shoulders relaxing; he assumes it's a joke. You both do. Although now isn't the best time for humor.

Zemo sits the little cup down on the tabletop scattered with your makeup and hairbrush and one leather gag with bite marks you forgot to put away. He’ll punish you for that later, he insists on everyone keeping their things clean and orderly. You tend to forget.

Helmut rubs his hands briskly over his pajama pants, then claps them together loudly, stands and comes over to Bucky and grabs his face. "It is now," he says so confidently when he looks into Bucky’s eyes; neither of you says a word to contradict him. "Come here," he calls your name.

You're there, sitting beside Bucky in seconds, anxious to find out what's happening. It must show because Zemo's breath catches with a bit of realization. He's being flippant and smiles sympathetically, letting go of Bucky with a hand to stroke your cheek with the back of his fingers, he gives you both a sort of funny smile as he enjoys the secret one last time; then he steps back, crossing his arms.

"You see, some time ago, it came to my attention that the US government was in desperate need of replacements for superheroes. Without the Avengers, they would be looking for someone to take their place, and when world leaders are desperate, they'll look in unlikely places. Bruno confirmed it. So once we were settled, I simply made myself available for the request and waited for the call."

You and Bucky glance at one another.

"There is a woman," Zemo says as he walks away and picks up his teacup disappointed that he's already finished it. He goes to the window and looks out at the view of the water, arms crossed at the wrist behind his back now— you can't help but notice the tension come and go. Like he feels it wash over him in a wave that he does not let take him under. "Contessa Valentina Allegra De La Fontaine." He lets her name roll over his tongue beautifully as it would for a man who speaks so many languages. "She's got an agenda I can't place yet, but Fontaine’s call was the loudest, so to speak." He turns enough that you see his downturned profile, "I've decided to accept her terms, allowing her to think they are her own, and in many ways they are." He faces you both, arms at his side, looking somehow vulnerable while being the authority on the subject. "For now, we work together, at least when the time calls for it. By offering my services, my so called crimes will be forgiven, and we, all three of us, can live as we wish. Together."

Your mouth is dry you feel a little light headed. Helmut Zemo working with someone? Okay, what you really feel is scared for the first time since meeting him. "What is this? What's happening?" You demand a little too softly for him to hear and answer you.

"You trust this woman?" Bucky asks, sounding less stunned but no less suspicious.

"Not at all." He says without hesitation.

That's a relief. That's the Zemo you know. So long as he's playing her, you'll play right along.

You and Bucky look at one another again, a thousand thoughts exchanged in one look.

"I get why she might need you, although I have my doubts about it. But what do you need her for?" Bucky asks. "What's the point? Don't get me wrong, I'm flattered, but..." He shakes his head, tossing his hands up at a loss for what else to say. You're chewing at your bottom lip on the verge of tears tossed between elation and confusion.

Helmut just nods, letting Bucky's words sink in. The way his expression changes, how his eyes glass over, you think you might have an idea, "I had a family once. You know this. There's no need to go over it again and again." He says and looks off for a second to remember and then move on. "I don't hope to recreate that life, but what I have with the two of you; I honestly did not see coming. I was ready to die after the loss and before prison. Then you got me out, and I was ready to live so fast and so hard; if death came, it wouldn't matter. So when I found myself feeling of all things love," He huffs out a quick laugh, and Bucky smiles. "Well, maybe I was not so ready to leave this world after all. And when I saw those eyes look into mine through the crowd at a club in Madripoor of all places, " He says to you, and you have to hold your hand to your heart to keep it from beating out of your shirt, "I should have known. I spent half our time together convincing myself that what I felt was just an endless need to fuck you." You both laugh, Zemo rubs his beard slowly thinking back with a brilliant smile "Which, of course, was true, but we both know what was happening," He looks into your eyes “I fell in love with you so easily it shook me to my core. I thought I’d lost my mind” he laughs softly. You love him so much.

"I just couldn't imagine it then." He starts to come towards the bed, and without taking your eyes off him, you slide your hand over and take Bucky's "Time changes us. People learn and grow." He shrugs. "Because therein lies my problem James. Our problem really. Now I can not imagine a world without the two of you in it, and so much of what we have is based on imagination.” The word offends him. “Just ideas— hopes and dreams. We are not able to actually live it." He says, his head tilting with a frown as he picks a string from the shoulder of Bucky's shirt and brushes some unseen dust away before looking at him. Bucky inhales an unsteady breath and holds Zemo's wrist, not wanting him to pull away.

"It can't be that simple, can it?" You ask, wanting so desperately for it to be as easy as his explanation.

"Can't it?" He counters, dragging his gaze from Bucky.

You think about what he's said. How people with enough power and money can make anything at all happen. Suddenly allowing Baron Zemo to slip under the radar doesn't seem so far fetched. "What about the Wakadans?"

Bucky goes stiff. He really had something special there. They are more than friends to him; they are family, healers, and the only reason besides you and Zemo he's ever had something other than war. It would be devastating to upset his alliance with them any more than he already has. He's off the hook this time since he truly had nothing to do with Zemo's escape from the raft but when it gets out that he's actually with Zemo...

"If they would ever like to talk, I would ask only that they forgive me for taking a good man from them, a man I did not wish to kill," Zemo says and so clearly means it. "I will never close the door on that opportunity, but I will not run from them, and we will not hide from them, but they can not take me."

"On whose authority?" Bucky asks.

Zemo smiles, taking his hand away. "We have all the time in the world to talk through the details James. What matters is that, as of last night, I am not on any watch lists. I am longer a wanted man. I am absolved of my crimes, so long as I hold fast to my end of the deal. The contessa may have her own agenda but she also answers to the right people with the right power, which is why, in the end I did choose her.”

“Yeah. And you shouldn't have done that," Bucky says knocking the wind out of Helmut’s nearly convincing speech, and with his voice so torn between love and anger, even you hesitate to agree again, "What if they want you do something that goes against what you believe in? You know these people don't exactly share your views on morality."

"I know and I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"This isn't like you," Bucky insists and tries standing, but Zemo pushes him back down.

"This is exactly like me. You've just never seen what I'm willing to do for the people that I love— oh wait. Yes you have."

Bucky backs down quickly, and you can see the memories of every event leading up to their meeting and beyond replaying in his mind. He needs a second, and so do you. Is this what it's like to be blindsided?

You get up and go to the dressing table, glancing in the mirror. You're wearing your own t-shirt and boy shorts that you slept in which easily show the light bruises on your upper thighs. You don't know who gave them to you but it doesn't matter, you just try to think of having never experienced this life, or never having it again. Its not for everyone, there’s no argument there, but you chose it and you don’t want to lose it now. And so it seems you don’t have to.

Helmut has just changed everything. Your entire relationship up to this point, has been spent on the run, avoiding people out to get him and falling in love with the only one who did.

You are; overjoyed, scared, excited, terrified, there are too many words. But mostly, you think —you’re happy.

"Helmut?" You turn and don't bother wiping the tears from your face; more will be there to replace them in seconds anyway.

He looks over his shoulder and clicks his tongue, upset to see you crying. "Come here, what's wrong? I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says softly as you go to him, those last steps a stumble into his arms which catch you so effortlessly. His chest is hard and warm and instantly a place of comfort.

“Nothing,” you breathe and inhale the scent of him, “I'm in shock, that's all. Mostly, I'm relieved." You say with a laugh that tastes salty from your tears.

He smiles and holds you tighter. You glance around his arm at Bucky and see that he's just sitting there with his head down. Laying your hand on his thick hair, you feel the tension instantly give way, and he lets out his breath in a forced exhale as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees with his face in his hands. You're not surprised by his reaction; it makes all the sense in the world. Wouldn't a man who has been through hell be hesitant to believe that anything could be different? But if Bucky is as much the secret optimist as you know him to be, what he's feeling most right now, is hope. Despite all the awful, evil shit he's been through, there's still that little bit of him that holds onto the light.

He looks up letting you and Helmut see how badly he needs this to be true, because he had Wakanda and he tried New York. His attempt to live normally was a failure. Your year together was better, but even then he wrestled with his guilt, and you hadn't exactly been at your best. Not to mention that loving Helmut Zemo of all people isn't something to shout from the rooftops, but at least now, he doesn't have to lie about it.

"This is a lot to take in." You say softly, rubbing circles on Bucky's back as you slip from Helmut and sit beside him, wiping your own face as you do. You kiss his cheek and smile, feeling a bad attempt at humor coming on… "But, take it in Bucky." You whisper, grinning. "Take it all in big boy." You jerk him towards you trying to make him laugh. It works. You get a snicker from him that he doesn't want to give. "Buck? It means you can stay.” You say more gently “Or, go. You can do whatever you want and no one can trace you back to Helmut. And if they do, who cares.” He wipes his eyes with the heel of his hand and looks up. "And so can we." You say, realizing it. "If we want, we can all go together, anywhere. I love it here, don't get me wrong but we don't have to hide."

"Yes." Helmut says, pinching your chin.

"And just so we're clear, this has already happened? You've made the deal. There's no going back?" You ask.

He chuckles but glances at Bucky and wipes his wet cheek with his thumb. "Yesterday." He tells you, eyes still on James, "I wanted to tell you last night, but I thought the morning would be better. I know you love your sleep," He teases you.

You smile, but it's how Bucky pulls back from Zemo's touch with this pained look on his face as if he’s just been struck. "You mean after all of this, everything that we've been through, I can just be with you." He spits out, shaking his head. "I— can come out?" He says it, and you feel like you've been hit over the head with your own privilege. This means something else entirely for him.

Your heart leaps in your chest at his realization, "Oh my god. Bucky. You're going to be an even bigger hero than you already are. You'll be iconic." You say with your arm around his shoulder, giving him a shake.

He gives you a funny look, but it dawns on him that this is very likely to be true. He may have been born in another time, but he has lived long enough in the present to know how and why this will matter for a lot of people. Bucky gets a little awkward as he smiles, "Maybe."

Helmut is just as eager, you can see it in his eyes, but his voice is calm. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I know there is a lot to talk through, the many changes that will be made but— why don't we just start with breakfast?" He asks and lifts Bucky's chin. He could go on about what this means, how this will be the true start of your lives together, but he doesn't; instead, his eyes narrow, and he gets that wicked look that makes your brow raise with playful suspicion. "But you must promise me something." He says.

"Anything," Bucky answers in all seriousness, his hands going to fists in Helmuts shirt.

"No more dogs." He says, tapping Bucky's cheek entirely too hard.

Bucky shuts his eyes, turning his head to hold back the immediate fury. There's no threat of violence, just the absolute rage over falling for Helmuts trick.

You press your lips tight to keep from laughing as Bucky's angry squint becomes a pout. You know as well as he does you're thankful to have Zemo shift away from the emotion of this moment, there will be plenty of time to talk everything through —a lifetime, so it seems— but for now, he's right. It's better to get a little food in your stomachs before you start working out the logistics.

"Fine." Bucky gives in, letting go of his shirt with his right hand, tightening with the cool left and raising his brow in defiance. “But what about a cat? I have always liked cats."

You snort and duck your head. Helmut groans, absolutely appalled— brushing that vibranium aside like it’s plastic— he walks away as your laugh breaks free. It all reminds you so much of when you first got Lou.

"What?" Bucky asks, feigning ignorance. "You said nothing about cats!"

"I can't believe this," Helmut says over his shoulder, eying Bucky as he grabs his tea cup. "Give a man the world and he wants a cat."

You lean towards Bucky, still laughing but sit up with the gasp of a brilliant idea that might see your ass red hot and stuck in the corner but well worth it. "We should get one today to celebrate! Oh my god, a kitten!"

"Don't encourage this!" Helmut scolds on the verge of exasperation as he heads for the door.

Bucky is quick to follow, "I'll wear you down. You know you can't resist me." He says, sauntering after him with all the well earned confidence of a loving sub who looks gorgeous in boxer briefs and has just cemented his permanence in his dom’s life.

"It's okay, Helmut!" You add, following close behind. "There'll be so much room in the penthouse you won't even notice another animal.

"Penthouse?" They say in unison, turning in the hall to look back at you.

Your tight-lipped smile breaks with your shrug. "Yeah," You say perfectly nonchalant, "The art deco penthouse in New York."

Bucky looks at Zemo; Zemo rolls his eyes shut. "Do I even bother?" He says under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I do not own an art deco penthouse in New York." If he flexes that jaw any tighter…

"No," You are trying so hard not to laugh, you do love to drive him mad, it’s the credit cards all over again… "But, I'm sure there are a few left, and if not, I’m sure some designer would be more than willing to spend your money turning a place into something like what I have in mind. Think about it. We really should be closer to everything, what with your new job and all." You add as if practical thinking plays any part in your desire for the city.

And the face Zemo makes when you say the J word! You almost faint holding in that laugh.

"Oh! Then the cat should be white!" Bucky declares, as Helmut starts for the stairs again, pretending to be annoyed by the entire proposition.

"Why?" He dares to ask as you enter the kitchen.

Bucky shrugs. "Seems like a good fit. A big white cat in a penthouse? Not exactly what I'd pick out, but if we're going to live there, we might as well do it right?"

"We aren't going to… You know what? Never mind." Helmut goes to the fridge grumbling. You pick out a few foreign words— the bad ones mostly.

You and Bucky know better by now. It takes all of one minute for him to pour a little juice into a glass, stand at the kitchen island, and stare at you both before he betrays himself and smiles into the glass.

"Better start thinking of names," You whisper, leaning over to Bucky, who chuckles softly.

Zemo turns, tossing his hand up in defeat. "What the fuck have I done." He gripes with an oof as Bucky rounds the counter and grabs him from behind to kiss his cheek.

"You've given yourself that life you imagined. A whole damn family." He says softly, holding Helmut in his arms, refusing to let go, and from here, you can see how Helmut's false air of indifference fades. He strokes Bucky's arm with his fingertips, one hand moving up to cradle Bucky's face beside his own, the other hand reaching for you as you come around and go to him, laying your head on his chest, both their hands and arms on you in some way.

The three of you stand there in the warm silence of the kitchen for a while, just listening to the sound of your breath and heartbeats, until Bucky finally laughs a little, his voice sort of distant as he says, "Tell Oeznik, he can burn the damn duffle bag."

Breakfast in the garden is a surprisingly calm one. The shock of the news has settled into a sort of numbing dream-like haze from which none of you seems to want to wake.

The world, however, has other plans. But doesn't it always.

"Well. You've got impeccable timing, Helmut," Bucky says, from his seat across the table from you. "That's kind of your thing though." He sighs.

You and Zemo look up and stare at him while he stares down at his phone.

“What’s up?” You ask around the oatmeal in your mouth.

Bucky's gone a little pale, which is frightening, he's got a great tan over the week, and he's just sort of frozen in place, his delicious breakfast all but forgotten.

"James? What is it?" Zemo asks, rubbing his thigh under the table.

Bucky blows a breath through his parted lips and runs his hand over his head a few times before reading as if he doesn't want to say the words, but has no choice, "Winter Soldier spotted with mystery date in the south of France." He finally looks up, his eyes wide like a kid caught stealing.

Your heart stops, but your head springs into action. "Me or him?" You ask to no reply. "Bucky! Is it me or Helmut?"

"You." He says, blinking out of his stupor.

You and Zemo both relax. "Sorry Helmut, I know it'll be okay soon, but…"

"It will take time. Yes of course." He says, reaching to give your shoulder a squeeze. "I'm not in the shot at all am I?"

Bucky shakes his head, squinting. "Just… your arm? It's us at the market." He says holding the phone out then close again before handing it to you across the little table.

Zemo is watching your face to see how you will react when you see the photos. All you feel is a wave of heat when you see them.

So this is it? This is what it's going to be like? Bucky isn't exactly the most famous of them all, but he's known, that's for damn sure, especially because of his past. He's got an interesting fanbase that the other avengers never had. They were always heroes, though some have fallen off and some are gone forever, most were the good guys from the start, there to save the world and get the bad guys.

Bucky was the bad guy.

The people who are drawn to him are not your typical fans, and his story is the sort that really gets it’s hooks into you, making it very hard to look away no matter what you see. You only hope this will be different. Maybe people will realize that he's a man, just a man who was never given a chance…

A warm breath on your neck and shoulder makes you jump a little and you realize Zemo is behind you. He's gotten up and come to stand and see for himself. You must be taking too long, but you can't stop looking and then you realize why. For the first time —even though it is an invasion of privacy— you see something really beautiful captured when you had no idea that it was being done.

The way you're looking at one another as you laugh under the canopies of the market is undeniable.

You peek up at him now and Bucky smiles, he saw it too.

The love you have for one another is frozen permanently in time, captured through the eye of someone who knows nothing about either of you really.

You scroll through the shots that create a quick vignette of four pictures and the last is of you and Bucky; you looking over your shoulder and him looking just past you. Luckily the photographer must have just been a tourist, otherwise, they would have known Zemo's face even with the beard and longer hair. They did not realize that light in your eyes was nothing but love and directed towards the man standing just out of frame. They did not realize that you're both gazing at him the same way.

You never want this to happen again, but this one time, you can't help but see it for what it is. Something special and very real. You turn to look up at Helmut whose deep frown eases when he sees the look on your face now. His hand is warm on your cheek, his fingers strong as he massages into your hair. He looks over at Bucky and back at you and sighs just a little through his nose, a sound of concession.

"This will not be easy. Either of you can walk away now before anything comes out. Before anyone knows more than they do. I can make any evidence of these past few years vanish if that is what you want."

You rise up in your seat, looking over at Bucky who is sinking down into his. "No," Bucky says, shaking his head. "No I'm not going anywhere. You tell me I can finally be with you and expect me to run because someone took a few pictures? No, you're not getting rid of me that quickly Baron Zemo.”

You turn your head and kiss Helmut's palm pulling his hand away to hold it and look from one face to the other. "I told you a long time ago I wasn't leaving Helmut, I am yours."

He already knew as much but leans down to kiss your forehead in thanks before standing to look at you and Bucky. He gives a confident nod; the love in his heart softening the cold edge in his golden brown eyes.

"And you are both mine."

#baron zemo fanfiction #winterbaron #bucky barnes fanfic #buckybarnes/zemo #zemo x reader #buckybarnes x reader #baron zemo #helmut zemo #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #winterbaron x you #true love waits #castle in the sky #we belong together #at all costs #risk it all

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cherryblossomtease · 2 years

Text

Pleasures Remain, So Does the Pain

Chapter 24

chapter specific warnings 18+ only - if you are under 18 you are not welcome to read further - heavy m/m punishment, heavy dom sub - intense m/m and m/m/f oral and other punishment

warnings and summary - masterlist

"Quiet. Don't wake her up."

Bucky glances back at you still sleeping peacefully. You look so pretty with your leg peeking out from under the blanket and a subtle frown between your brows.

"I was going down to the garden for some breakfast," He whispers, sliding his hands up Zemo's back to help flip down the collar of the clean shirt he's just put on.

"No— you're weren't," Zemo answers, doing up the buttons. Bucky goes to correct him but steps back. Their eyes meet over Helmut's shoulder with a loaded pause. "Were you?" Zemo asks with a dash of sarcasm.

Bucky stares at him for a few seconds of defiance before he lowers his eyes. There's only one answer he can give, "No."

Zemo squares up and turns to face him. "What?" He whispers a little louder.

"No, Baron." Bucky corrects himself somewhat reluctantly, his jaw tightening with the exhale.

Zemo looks him over, holding back desire to only show dominance "Come into the bathroom," He instructs quietly as he goes, not bothering to look and see if Bucky obeys. He knows his soldier will follow.

"You may have me. I like it." Zemo smiles. He presses his forehead to Bucky's temple and whispers hot and heavy in his ear "I like it when your big beautiful cock is inside of me." They moan together, Bucky grips the edge of the sink tighter, Zemo holds him closer—his free arm around Bucky's chest, his hand closed tight on the flesh and bone shoulder— he turns his head looking down at Bucky's bare legs in the dim light, "But only when I allow it. Do you understand?" He demands, shoving his hand forward, the squeeze around his middle finger making him ache for the same feel in another place.

Bucky nods quickly, licking his lips, sinking down against the pressure, his eyes shutting tight and going wide as he's drilled deeper by Helmut's steady finger.

"Say it!" Zemo whispers loudly, bringing him closer.

"I understand." Bucky spits out, leaning against Zemo —he's helpless to the Baron's battering of his ass.

"Good," Zemo says, stoping. Very slowly, he slips his finger free. "Now, we can begin."

Bucky groans, his face falling as he realizes they've only just started. He should have known this was why Zemo told him to shower more than usual when he woke up this morning.

"Quiet," Zemo soothes, stroking Bucky's face, "You were such a big man yesterday. So ready to shove me up against a wall and do what you want to me. What happened? Where is that man now?"

Bucky knows better than to say anything back. He just takes his verbal shaming.

"He's gone, isn't he? Hiding behind the one holding onto the sink." He smiles and taps Bucky's bare ass a few times, making him hang his head more. "Now, big man. Go into the bedroom very quietly. In the top drawer is her glass toy. Get it."

Bucky snaps his head around, eyes wide with shock. "But that's hers! I can't. It's been inside of her?"

"Oh it's quite clean. Very sanitary. Sterile actually. But that's not what's bothering you— is it" He grins. "It's the humiliation."

Bucky quickly looks away. He doesn't want to say.

"Well, perhaps you'll remember this lesson better than I'd anticipated."

Humiliation is the perfect word.

Bucky can't even look at him.

"Go on." Zemo says as if he's getting impatient, but he enjoys every second. He could watch this all day.

Eyes on the stone floor, Bucky inhales and stops resisting, letting the smooth, well lubed dildo go as far in as it can. He gives in with a low grunt, his lips parting with the lightest moan.

When Bucky's eyes close and his shoulders relax a bit, Zemo has to force himself not to cross the bathroom and kiss him, not yet…

Bucky exhales and slowly brings his empty hand back around, crossing his arms at the wrist, finished with this perfectly awful part of his own shame and punishment.

"You look beautiful if it's any consolation," Zemo says with a little smirk as he approaches, running his hand up and over Bucky's chest. He steps behind him, watching the sergeant raise his head and breathe quickly, expecting the Baron to do something awful, but that is not the plan. "Put on your underwear, James. Join me on the balcony. Let's see if we can put your mouth to good use while your ass remembers its place."

Morning comes with the warmth of the sun and the smell of breakfast from the kitchen thanks to Petra.

Bucky and Zemo woke you up earlier for a few seconds with their low voices, but the bed is empty now so you sprawl out like a starfish, stretching until your arms and legs flex tight and relax.

With the pleasant hum of a woman well rested and the filtered rays on your face, you draw your limbs in, curling over onto your side and slide your hands under the pillow to rest a little while longer, thankful that they've let you sleep in. It only took a few days, but you're finally exhausted from something other than sex.

Mr. come sit on my cock is —unsurprising— a sneaky devil and your song-like laughter vibrates into the pillow as you remember the way he'd dangled the car keys in your face yesterday.

"What's this?" You'd asked, looking up from your tea and book in the front sitting room.

"You said you wanted to do something else. I can't have you getting bored. So, come on, get dressed. Oeznik will be bringing the car around shortly."

You'd realized then as you raised your head, intrigued by what he'd said, that Zemo was not wearing his usual, around-the-house, shirt and pants. He had on simple canvas shoes, relaxed khaki chinos— ankles out the bastard—a white t-shirt rolled once perfectly at the bicep, his tortoiseshell Persol sunglasses hiding his eyes, and his signature "I have a secret" smile, curling the corners of his lips.

You'd sat up, turning around in the wingback chair, going to your knees. "Fucking hell. Daddy..." Your hungry grin spread making Zemo laugh, even though it felt like your heart had stopped. "Where’re we going? You look…" You couldn't finish your sentence as you scanned down and up again.

His genuine amusement calmed to a cocky smirk "A place for you to run free. With the sun on your skin and the sand underfoot.” You can still feel the warmth of his touch as he’d brushed his hand along your cheek, as much as the heat of his gaze— loving as it was playful, “We'll spend the day doing everything except for the one thing you seem to have grown tired of; as requested." He'd teased. You'd gasped at being denied, which he’d quickly copied, mocking you with exaggerated outrage that made you laugh even though you hated it.

“I didn’t mean never again Helmut. I just meant let’s do something outside of these walls.” You’d said crossing your arms.

“No, no no.” His brilliant grin shone bright “you’re right. Something else, we only have him for a few more days.” You’d both felt the mood shift, but Helmut would not allow it.

"So up. Now! Go and get dressed." He'd told you, pulling you from the chair; your book falling to the seat forgotten. "What you'll wear today is laying on the bed for you. There is a bag ready with a bathing suit and some other things you will need. You'll bring only what I've already packed for you. Understood?"

You feel the little quake in your belly as your hips roll slowly under the covers with the memory of his control. You can feel the way he held your face and waited for your reply. Your small nod had been enough.

"Good. Go on. James is already outside helping Petra pack the other car, she'll follow with lunch. Hurry, or I'll take my belt off," He'd taunted.

You'd gotten up to leave, excited to obey and to see what he'd picked out, only for him to grab your arm and pull you back, your lips meeting his without stopping. The way his tongue swirled into your mouth had you weak— still did.

"Lemon tea?" He'd asked, licking his lips after kissing you, and you'd just giggled. He gave a single nod of approval, turned you around, swatted your backside, and sent you on your way.

When you came down and went out the side door that led to the street, you must have been beaming because all three of them, yes, even old Oeznik stopped to stare.

"Like Bardot." Bucky gawked, "But… not." He came around to lean on the side of the car, gazing up at you on the little stone entry steps.

You did honestly feel gorgeous. The high waist cap-sleeve pale pink romper, cut so high you could tan your ass cheeks, and white canvas beach keds Zemo dressed you in, had you ready for your black and white noir film debut. Funny enough, for all the attention you were getting, it was Bucky in his loose button down and swim shorts that stopped at the tops of his thighs that had you forgetting your own name. The Baron clearly had fun playing dress up with both of you today.

"He's going to get a lot of attention," Petra said behind you.

"Helmut can't help himself." You'd said with a crooked smile. "I think those are smaller than the ones on the yacht." You added under your breath.

"No, the arm." She said back as she trotted down the steps with the dogs.

She'd been right, but one thing Petra had forgotten was that Zemo would never be so foolish as to take you to a public beach.

Instead, the three of you and the two dogs piled into a classic red convertible with four seats pulled from some hidden garage Zemo keeps a few of his cars stored in, and took off down the road, winding away from the hillside villas.

It was a fairly short drive to the property of a man you're not allowed to know the name of, or so says Zemo. No matter, you made plenty of good memories to block out suspicions. You and Bucky quickly changed on the beach since you were alone and went right to the water, the dogs coming in after you.

It was exhilarating for a man so used to secrecy. Here he didn't have to hide his arm or his face, and the two of you played like a couple of teenagers flirting with life and each other.

Helmut, who had been inside the house dealing with some business, came out eventually, a drink in hand calling out for a round of bocce to begin as your nameless host had a small court where the grass became sand, but it was the way he approached that stopped your running around.

Poor Bucky —you think now biting the tip of your tongue— those little shorts were not forgiving and he’d tugged at them to stop his very visible reaction to watching Helmut's slow strut along the well worn path.

He'd changed, no he'd stripped down to the vintage dark blue and red striped swim shorts that had anyone else been there, looks would have been given, and served. He was calmly ordering Petra around, pointing this way and that; Sokovian Serbian rolling off his tongue like the waves behind you as she set up the game while you'd taken in the rest of him in that … what was it? A sort of summer blazer? A sweater? Also deep, navy blue and opened to the breeze. The sleeves were pushed up, the veins in his arm pronounced from holding his glass by the rim, his gold necklace against his chest glittered in the sun. He'd raked his hair from his eyes still hidden behind his sunglasses and walked right up to you both, kissing Bucky's lips quickly.

Bucky had mumbled something like…"You look good enough to shove against a wall and fuck." Which made Zemo laugh before he’d kissed you, and then he was off to help Petra separate the colored balls for the game.

From the comfort of bed you stare at the glow of the sun behind the sheers, remembering how he’d moved around the long court, taking sips of his drink, smiling, chatting, looking so effortlessly like the wealthy sugar daddy from every Gatsby fantasy you'd ever had—but make it European.

That fantasy had come to a swift end though when Helmut chose Petra to be on his team. You should have known then that something was up.

"How many times have you two played this together?" You asked, watching her from the corner of your eye as you stood side by side, pretending to watch Bucky throw the little white ball.

Her tight-lipped smile needed no answer, but she gave one. "How many years have I known the family?"

"Your, entire life?" You answer, obviously.

"Ah, yes." She’d given Helmut the sort of wink reserved for a couple of hustlers ready to show off.

That first round had been an unsurprisingly competitive one. By the time the arguing began over who's ball was closest to the pallina during the second match, Petra declared the game a tie, insisting that lunch was served. Shocker; an Avenger, a Baron and a woman from Madripoor are all sore losers, but no one argues with the woman in control of the food.

Under the shade of a large yellow umbrella with white fringe —the kind they don't make anymore— you'd fallen onto your towel content and sleepy, feeling the effects of this place like a drug…

THE BEACH

"Doesn't today feel special? Different somehow?" You ask, with your arms under your head, your leg crossed over your knee, foot making little circles in the air.

"What do you mean?" Zemo asks, trying to decide where to start; there's so much food.

You take a deep breath of the air and let your head relax to the side, looking down over the sand to the clear blue waves sparkling in the sun. Lou and Ada sniffing and digging at something they probably shouldn’t.

The peace is interrupted by the sound of Bucky's happy eating. "Petra, this sandwich is great." He says, raising the half in salute to her.

She nods her thanks, eating demurely behind you all.

You pull your hand from under your head, letting it lay on Bucky's very warm back. How is he so obliviously sexy. Even when a dollop of the spread falls from the lettuce and onto his finger, he licks it off and loses none of the appeal. You lick your own lips hypnotized by his.

Dropping your hand, you go onto your stomach, rest your chin on your arm and enjoy the show, deciding quickly that Bucky is like having your own personal bi-sexual 40's heartthrob always just a reach away— at least for the week.

"You were saying?" Zemo interrupts your thoughts snorting a laugh at your thirsty gaze, and tosses a piece of bread, hitting you in the face to make you jump and turn your head.

Bucky hardly notices he's so happy with his sandwich, and your innocent giggling stops Helmut from any more attacks, just a warm smile as he starts to eat, inevitably looking at Bucky, thinking the same lovely thoughts.

"I was only saying that today feels sort of — well, it's all sort of —timeless." You say dreamily.

Bucky lowers his last bite pondering before looking down over his shoulder at you. "I know what you mean." He says with his arms around his knees, turning his head to the ocean. He watches the dogs pant on the beach. "1940, 2040. Hell you could tell me this was a victorian picnic, and I wouldn't bat an eye."

"Except for the many modern amenities," Zemo says with a wink behind his glasses, "Like that arm. Open this, will you." He hands Bucky a dark skinny bottle.

Bucky's face twists with confusion, but he does it anyway. "Since when do you drink beer?"

"I don't," Helmut says, taking it back, letting the foam spill over his fingers before noisily sucking it up. He wipes the cold bubbles from his mustache with his hand. "But, on a hot day like this, it looks so cold and refreshing. And you certainly enjoy them for a man who can't get drunk."

"I'll drink to that," Bucky says, and they clink ends.

Turning onto your side, you rest your head in your hand cocking your brow, not believing him for a second. "Wait for it…."

Helmut takes a real sip, swallows, bares his teeth against the taste, and lets it grow into an exaggerated smile. "Thought I was going to spit it out, didn't you?" He says, settling his weight back on his left arm.

You shrug. "I can't lie. I'm impressed."

"I may have been royalty, but I did my time living among the common folk for a while in the army. You spit your drink out there; it's the last thing you'll do without shame."

"Oh, sounds wonderful" You roll back over. "Now stop playing. Did we bring Champagne? Tell me we brought Champagne."

"What, are you kidding? Of course. You think I would come here with only beer?" Helmut says, quickly handing his bottle to Bucky. "I love you soldat, but I would rather drink saltwater than finish that. Petra! Open the Dom."

"Of course, Sir!" She grins, jumping up to open the cooler as you let your laughter bubble up with the sound of the cork popping free.

"This house is amazing. I could go for something like this. A small upgrade?" You say, wiggling your brows at Helmut as the three of you snoop around.

His cute frown makes you laugh as you slip past him in the open air sitting room.

He's paused in the middle of running his hand along the baby grand piano displayed in the window, while yours finishes a path across the curve of his ass in those mouthwatering shorts "Sorry that your current living situation is not enough." He says —eyes following you as you go— almost in denial that you could possibly be serious. You just laugh.

"You know I'm joking." You say, going towards the sitting area with the Eames chair and record player. Bucky is turning a slow circle under the wild mid-century sputnik chandelier.

"Are you?" Zemo asks, not out of worry, just curiosity.

You spin to face him. "Helmut."

He knows.

Joining the two of you, Bucky smiles at your toying with Zemo, kissing your temple as he passes. "This place is pretty incredible. You sure it's all right that we're here?"

"That's not for you to worry about." He insists, hands going to Bucky's waist, he pulls him close.

"What if I am?"

"Don't be."

"Too many secrets Helmut. That's never good for men like us." Bucky scolds.

Zemo can't tell if Bucky is serious or not, it's almost surprising that he would question the Baron on his own territory. "I'll pretend you didn't accuse me of keeping things from you or putting you in danger." He says with a slight tone of warning."

Bucky shrugs and pushes him against the piano. It's just a step, maybe less, but it's enough and done with just the right amount of aggression that you feel the air leave the room. "Maybe I'll fuck the truth out of you later." Bucky says quietly, his smile implying his playfulness, but the way he leans against Helmut...

You'd once been dared to lick batteries as a kid. It was stupid, but you did it. That little jolt was more than you'd thought it would be— how something so small could pack such a punch— that's exactly what Bucky's comment made you feel.

You stood in the middle of the room, sparse and maybe a little too cold for your liking wondering what Zemo would do.

His head tilted ever so slightly, his hair still wet from your late afternoon swim shining almost black in the lighting. "Maybe." He smiled, raising his brows, one hand braced on the polished black baby grand.

Bucky's grin was innocent enough as he kissed Zemo's forehead and walked away, but you saw the way Zemo stood there and the way his eyes went dark.

Later, when the three of you got home, and you said you were too sleepy to walk, Bucky pulled you up and out of the car like a child, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. You held onto him and let him carry you into the house, very much like you had once before on the yacht.

The feeling of being so cozy and safe kept your eyes closed. But in the hall, in your state of half-awake and asleep, you heard him and Zemo laughing and chatting about something —some memory of pissing off someone, you think they said Walker— the tone changed after it was suggested that Bucky teach Zemo a lesson.

"Don't tempt me." Bucky teases, "I've been wanting you all day." He said through clenched teeth. "I don't know what the rules are for that, but I might have to come up with a few of my own."

For what or why Zemo deserved Bucky’s attention you’d missed, but you hear Helmut’s reply just fine.

You open your eyes and raise your head from Bucky's shoulder to see Zemo standing in the hall frozen in his steps. "Is that so?" He says calmly enough, a storm brewing below the surface.

Bucky, only mildly aware of stirring up trouble, glances back with a low laugh and keeps going into the bedroom with you in his arms.

The Morning After the Beach

So now, here you are lying in bed, sore from working those forgotten muscles, swimming and playing games and fucking in a nameless man's sprawling country villa. Yes, you’d convinced him that you did in fact want to be fucked, but damn did he make you beg…

Poor Petra, she'd started to walk in the sitting room when your eyes met hers over Helmut's shoulder from your perch on the piano with your legs around his waist and him deep inside of you while Bucky watched from the sofa. She took one look, bit her lip, held in a reactionary laugh, and turned right back around.

It was bound to happen at some point, you think, covering your face, feeling the heat of embarrassment and the slight ache in the back of your head. Shit, what's worse? A hangover from drinking all day? Or having your maid walk in on you? Maid? She's Petra; you can't even say the m word in your mind. And luckily you'd been too busy having fun to drink too much, thank the stars. But between the awkward hellos waiting for you downstairs and the reminder of the drinks you did have, you're not sure you want to get out of bed.

You roll onto your back, rub your eyes and slowly sit up to look around and catch a glimpse of Helmut on the balcony. You try to remember what he and Bucky had been talking about this morning, but their voices are just a blur of deep whispers and maybe a moan or two?

Currently, he's relaxed on the little couch with one arm resting along the back, his profile highlighted by the sun and looking off at the water between the other village houses.

Bucky must be in the shower or maybe downstairs, so you slip from bed and get up, tugging at the thin white tank top you slept in to straighten it and decide to put on your robe.

With a bottle of water from the little fridge cooling your insides, you feel slightly more alive and decide to ask if the plan for the day can be the cafe and then the little bistro with the salty fish you can't pronounce.

You practice saying it under your breath as you stagger to the door, smiling at Helmut’s casual enjoyment of the view. The boats coming and going, the low waves. It lulls you into thinking he is alone so that when you step into frame, ready to speak, what you find leaves you wonderfully stunned.

Bucky, in nothing but a pair of briefs that perfectly accentuate the chiseled curvature of his solid ass, is on his knees between a fully yet comfortably dressed Zemo’s legs and moving slowly, so much so that he doesn’t really seem to be moving at all.

He’s got his mouth full, and you squint to confirm that yes, his eyes are open and up and looking right at Zemo. He’s waiting, just— waiting like a large, gorgeous device for pleasure patiently waiting to be used.

You inhale your shock, standing as still as a statue. You want nothing more than to see exactly how Zemo will use him.

When he does finally turn his attention down towards the soldier, Helmut slowly drops his hand from the back of the couch to Bucky’s head, strokes the velveteen hair at the back of his head, and taps twice.

Bucky starts to move; his mouth slides up, leaving a sheen of saliva behind and down to swallow that solid length again and when Bucky touches a good spot Zemo shuts his eyes, clenching his jaw with a deep moan. When Bucky draws up to the very tip of his cock, Zemo opens his eyes, tilting his head to look down as he strokes his knuckles up and down the stubble of Bucky’s cheek, watching him circle his tongue around the soft skin along the head of his now wet shaft until Zemo can’t stand it, opens his hand, runs it up and over Bucky’s head and pushes him back down.

When he opens his eyes again, you finally step out, not wanting to be a voyeur anymore. Instead, You wait patiently to be acknowledged.

One thing you love about your relationship with these men, you are never made to feel like you’re interrupting or intruding, simply that you’ve joined at a different beginning. He looks at you, and his eyes say “Come here,” so you go to him, happily crawling onto the couch, careful not to disturb Bucky, now working Zemo’s glistening erection with his mouth and hand in tandem as you are pulled you into a kiss.

“He sucks as good as you do now.” Zemo teases, and you grin against his lips, only for him to gasp. The sound makes you moan. He can be so hard, so dominant, and demanding that when he is soft and gives in to feeling good without the edge, you don’t want it to end. It reminds you of the other night when Bucky was inside of him, and the thought makes you want to rip him apart, but you don’t. You just watch.

He smiles wide and pulls away from you to look down at Bucky with an open mouthed breath and his brows knit. He grips his own thigh and raises his hips a little, groaning, closing his eyes, smiling with a long sigh but he stops it, “Slow.” He tells Bucky. “Slowly.” His rough voice is deep and your pussy responds immediately.

Bucky shifts his weight and rises a bit to rest his elbows on Zemo’s thighs, dragging his mouth to suck up and down in long perfect movements until the man grabs the edge of the couch.

He won’t last long. “Go on, help him” He says, quickly opening his eyes to look at you.

He won’t last long, and he won’t ask twice. You quickly slide away to the floor and around his leg.

Bucky sits back with his head down, just letting that intimidating dick that makes you say the most random things under your breath stand in the air for a second, “Fucking— make me beg for it daddy” You mumble in a whisper, rolling your eyes at yourself Yep you dork. Random stuff, Just like that.

But look at it, you think on your knees, any self-deprecating humor already fading as your eyes shift up, practically praising Helmut and that tower so wet, hard, and ready. You draw your smile in, running your tongue across the back of your lips, your eyes heavy with the desire for more of what you’ve gotten all weekend.

Bucky turns his body, making space for you to come join him, and closes like a wall behind you. He leans to kiss your neck and gently stroke your face as he reaches over your shoulder and takes Helmut’s shaft in hand, guiding your head with his metal palm. He mimics you, opening his own mouth a little as he watches you open yours as you take his place.

Zemo’s at the edge of the couch in seconds, letting you swallow him again and again. Your fingers dig into the expensive cotton of his pants, feeling his solid legs beneath as you taste him and suck, wanting so badly to please him—to make him come.

He is hard as stone while his skin is so soft. He tastes like nothing. He tastes like him. He is salty. He is sweet. You moan, knowing the very faint taste of Bucky still there too as you slowly wiggle your head down to fit him into your mouth and refuse to choke.

Bucky is heavy at your back. You feel him rise up and kiss Helmut, stopping you from moving at all. You can do nothing but hold him in your mouth, just like Bucky had before. Wonderfully aware of his size, Helmut throbs in your mouth, heavy on your tongue, tickling your throat as he kisses Bucky, which ends quickly. You know it’s because he doesn’t want to come just yet. He needs it to be slow.

He pushes Bucky back down and you pull away, taking a deep breath but now you're both able to lick and suck together, your tongues and lips a slow, noisy frenzy of eager effort as you compete for the chance to finish him off. When Bucky pulls back to smile at you licking your way down towards the base, you wonder who Helmut will choose.

His thighs flex with a tremble, He moans like he does before he comes; a higher pitch is the sign of the pressure mounting. He suddenly grabs you by the shoulder and pulls you up from your spot. For a moment, he just stares at you like he's considering something, but then he forces himself to look away. "No. This wasn't about you. He's not finished," He says quickly. You don't know what he means, but he pulls you close with one arm as the other hand comes down on Bucky's head, and he shoves further into Bucky's mouth. You hear him choke, but he doesn't tap or hum.

Zemo sighs, letting his head fall back for a second before looking back down. "Mine?" He asks, and you realize you've been assisting with something you'd been completely oblivious to.

Bucky taps twice for yes you think.

"This mouth is mine."

Yes.

He practically growls down at him. "And that ass I mine."

Yes.

"Don't forget it. Next time you're fucking me, remember what it feels like to wear your humiliation. Remember what it feels like now with me in your mouth..." He raises just a bit until he hears the throaty sound he wants, "To choke on it. I'll know if you don't. And if you don't, it will be worse for you. Understand?"

A master of fucking the body and the mind, you look down, see Bucky's black fingers raise, and then finally tap twice.

Instantly Zemo fucks his throat with three hard thrusts that make you shrink back until he stops and holds Bucky in place.

You manage to drag your eyes from that perfect sight and look at Helmut to watch the deep frown between his brow grow just a bit deeper before his mouth opens with a rush. He breaths deeply, again and again in rhythm with the release. He comes so hard he has to hang his head on your shoulder, and you bite your lip from the pain of his hold on your arm, listening to him groan loudly. Only when his grip on you loosens does he let Bucky go.

Bucky falls back with a massive gasp for air, swallowing and inhaling at the same time, tears in his eyes from the force of it. He wipes at his mouth, but you feel Zemo shake his head.

"No, finish her fist." He manages, still breathing hard.

Bucky looks up, exhausted but obedient he gives you no time to say anything. He moves over to you, grabs your knees, puts your legs up onto the couch, and pulls your shorts aside, pushing your thighs apart and starts to lick.

Mercifully for him, it doesn't take long at all.

His tongue and lips are so warm and soft from Helmut's abuse you feel like you're melting into one another. When he backs away, you see how wet both of you are, and you know it's from the come he didn't swallow… a few more sticky flicks, and you're over the edge.

When your legs stop shaking and you open your eyes, you look up at Zemo, who is watching.

You slowly close your legs, feeling the wet mess against your shorts, and pull Bucky close, letting him put his head down against your chest where you both calm.

"Can I?" You nod down towards him, implying you'd like to return the favor. "I think he's earned it." You give a sweet smile to persuade him.

Helmut's curt laugh says otherwise. "Just barely," He says but does eye Bucky sidelong, "There is plenty of time to spoil James." He says with a tone that implies all sorts of things, and Bucky lifts his head with a little sparkle in his eye, "But I think it's best he attend to something else right now."

Bucky seems to agree and thanks you for letting him use your robe to wipe his face as he pushes on his jaw that must ache by now. He's pushing left and right, not paying attention when Helmut leans forward and smoothly pushes his hand away. "Are you all right?" He asks in all seriousness. You didn't use a word or a song…"

He looks up. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes,"

"James,"

"I said I'm fine,"

"Bucky,"

He lifts his chin, his eyes looking deeply into Zemo's, and the veil lifts. "I didn't mean anything by it, not really. I just thought you looked good, and we'd already—I mean i'd already— I didn't think it really mattered and sometimes I can't tell if you're really mad or not. It gets a little muddled."

Helmut's understanding lowers his gaze. He holds onto Bucky. "The line does… what does she say?"

"Get blown to shit?" You offer.

Zemo blows a heavy laugh through his nose. "Yes, that. And no, I'm not mad. Not really. Just, wanting to remind you of the way things are and the way I want things to stay. What we did, what I allowed you to do to me—with me— we did because I love you. We don't do that casually; it's not something you can just decide you want to do because you're in the mood on a Sunday afternoon. It's not like that with us, and if that's what you want, we need to seriously reassess our relationship. Forgive me if I didn't realize this was no longer a dominant and submissive relationship."

"What? No! Helmut no!" He insists not so much yelling as he is just passionate. "I'm sorry. I just didn't think it was as serious as you did, the joking around I mean. I won't anymore. But I don't think there's anything wrong with saying how badly I want you."

"No, nothing at all." He calms Bucky with a chuckle thinking back. "I just don't want you thinking things have changed, forgetting how things are."

Bucky shakes his head no. "I won't, I promise, "He says, dropping his hand from his face to Helmuts knee. "I want it to stay this way. Thank you for the reminder Baron. And thank you for letting me help you come." He says softly in a way that is so uncontrived you're sorry for not saying it too. He's so good at submitting now that you've learned a few things from him this week. His pretty blue gaze is soft and shy as he looks up at Helmut. For a man who's just done what he has, he manages to look demure. Teach me your ways you smile.

Helmut is moved. He tosses the towel you didn't know he had from his lap onto the floor and zips his pants sitting at the edge of the couch. With a tight sigh, he pulls Bucky in, kissing his forehead. "All is forgiven soldat. Besides, I had no choice in the coming part. You're the one with the magic tongue." He says with a chuckle against him.

"If that's not the truth…." You mumble, sitting up to look down at the man still on his knees.

"What can I say, I aim to please." He says so much softer than you'd expect from a forties war hero. "Did I?" He asks you with a coy smile. Bucky knows the answer, but he likes to hear it.

"Yes" Zemo dismisses shaking his head. He reaches to stroke Bucky's cheek "Everything you do pleases me." He says with such a gentleness in his voice that your own heart responds to it. "Now, let's go in, the neighbor is likely to ask to join if we keep this up." He says and you both look across to the neighboring houses feeling suddenly very exposed.

Zemo laughs and gets up, grabbing his balls, adjusting his pants giving a single wave in the direction of the pink house. "Come on," He says to you and Bucky still looking towards the neighboring villa. "I can smell breakfast; Petra will be upset if we let it get too cold" He looks down at you both then and has another laugh, tapping your cheek, kissing the top of Bucky's head. "And you really need to get that out of your ass." He remembers suddenly.

"Is he serious?" You look over your shoulder, squinting to spot the neighbor.

"I don't think I want to know," Bucky says, hanging his head. He's laughing, but you're pretty sure he's going to punch something.

"No! He's fucking with us. There’s no one there! Right? He's such a shit!"

You hear Helmut's obnoxious titter, "Come on!" He yells from inside the bedroom, and you both get up, quickly following your bastard Baron inside.

"Wait! Bucky! What did he mean? What the hell is in your ass?" You respond way too late; alarmed, horribly curious, amused, disturbed but absolutely aroused, even after all that.

Bucky puts his arm around you and kisses your face. “I’ll meet you in the garden. But apologize to Petra for me, I think I might miss breakfast.”

#winterbaron #baron zemo fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #zemo x reader #winterbaron x you #bucky barns x reader #somebodies in trouble #oh Bucky #zemo smut #bucky smut #you get the picture

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cherryblossomtease · 2 years

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Pleasures Remain, So Does the Pain

Chapter 23

chapter specific warnings- 18+ only - m/m- minor punishment

warnings and summary - masterlist

Authors Notes: Thanks for sticking with the story! So wild to be posting these final chapters this week, feels bittersweet. Who knew pwp could be so emotional! Hope you enjoy!

You don't leave the house. You hardly leave the room. You see no one but them, sharing days and nights that blend seamlessly together— a much longed for and well deserved lost weekend.

The few times you do untangle for something other than the bathroom or water and the occasional assortment of alcohol and sexual accessories, you emerge from the bedroom, wandering down into the kitchen for food.

Of course Bucky is introduced to the dogs, or "the babies," as they've been dubbed, which irritates Zemo to no end.

Lou and Ada are instantly fascinated by this new source of attention in the house and follow Bucky around, constantly showering him with slobbering affection. Heaven forbid the man should actually sit down on anything —a chair, a couch, especially the floor— and there they go, one of them inevitably trying to fit all four legs and the massive body those legs support onto his lap.

What is it about the biggest dogs having no idea they aren't made to curl up on top of us…

You scrunch your nose, amused as you watch Lou attempt to desperately paw his way onto Bucky who is sitting on the floor of the bedroom just across from you. He's made it his mission to sleep on Bucky at least once.

"Lou! Off!" Zemo scolds, leaning back on the Moroccan ottoman with disgust, making it funnier.

"It's okay. Really." Bucky tries to assure him, chomping on a bite of cheese "He just thinks I'm a pillow."They both seem happy with the dog’s big head finally resting on Bucky’s bare thighs.

Zemo rolls his eyes. "Not with those abs," He mumbles under his breath and you almost choke on your brie as you laugh.

Bucky holds his proud nose high, while making Lou's ears flop, but you see the way he peeks over at Zemo; all secretly flattered and showing off for him in nothing but the tight black underwear that hugs him just right.

You want to tease them for being so annoyingly cute, but then you remember no less than five minutes ago when Zemo called you out for your own antics as Bucky fed you. "She eats this all the time, don't let her fool you." He'd said. "Sure. But not like this." You'd shot back leaning across the charcuterie board to gently pluck the thinly sliced apple from Bucky's fingers with your teeth, his kiss following close behind. "Good call on the snacks" Bucky'd said with a crooked smile and the taste of green apple on his lips which he'd licked slowly. Zemo just raised his drink in agreement.

The three of you had started the evening with every intention of enjoying a real meal tonight, but right before getting out of bed, Helmut sank his teeth into the back of Bucky's thigh where it's soft, just before the curve of his ass and decided sitting down at the table was too formal. He wanted you both here, with as few clothes between you and him as possible, so you'd all ended up in the kitchen grabbing an assortment of snacks instead.

Olives, sliced bruschetta, all sorts of cheese and apricots, some grapes and apples… a bag of chips, and a candy bar? "I brought some stuff from my bag too." Bucky'd whispered to you on the way back upstairs making you snicker.

Now it's pillows and poofs on the floor in your underwear and pajamas as you share the tasty spread in the bedroom. The balcony doors are open to let in the ocean breeze and music is playing low, just under your light conversation while the sun sets, reminding you very much of the yacht. It is the perfect evening.

Halfway through the little feast, you look from one set of pretty eyes to the other and see the way they look at you and know exactly how this night will end.

After a morning spent sleeping in, and a perfectly lazy day, you think you'll be up for it too. At least you hope so. They've had you every way you can take them; the only remaining options make you blush just thinking about them. Simply put, it's been incredible, but Bucky isn't here forever.

"We will do something other than have sex, right?" You ask, looking to your lord and master with a cheeky grin getting both Zemo and Bucky's attention. "Maybe go to the beach or if you think it's safe enough.... Oo, we could drive… up to…Monaco…" Your voice trails off.

Zemo is sitting up and leans in close enough to Bucky that his voice makes the Sergeant raise his shoulder from the tickle of his breath against his ear. Happily tracing his finger along the side of Bucky's face as he goes on, Helmut drapes his hand down to the board of food, grabs a dark red grape without missing a beat and tosses the fruit up into his mouth. Bucky pretends to find him obnoxious but he's as smitten as a private-school boy and damn near giggles eyeing Zemo sidelong while the Baron chews, watching him with a smile.

He's definitely not listening.

Zemo picks up his drink and finishes the cognac, washing down the grape. Looking pleased to have made Bucky smile, he goes back to his lounging position only to turn his gaze on you because it's your turn for a bit of attention, and you feel a warm shiver rush over your body. He looks regal. Every bit the king of this kingdom he's made with that silky robe open showing a toned stomach, thick patch of chest hair and a dark tan that looks a little golden in the sunlight. The deep chestnut hair on his head is in messy swept-back layers complementing the beard which frames his face in shadow and from out of the dark his eyes find you, playfully daring you to leave, like he's saying; no more sex? Fine, go to the beach. Get in the car and drive to Monaco. Just try.

Damn it .

He exhales slowly through his nose, his smile spreading as your gaze wanders along his body. Why are his thighs so muscular? Probably from always being on the run, you smirk and nibble at the inside of your lip trying, not to smile back. He really needs to close that fucking Tom Ford robe. Your eyes dart up and down to find a part of him that could be average, or normal, or dare you say it—boring. Something to help you ignore him…

Arms? Never. Legs, nope, already established as gorgeous. Feet, no, even those are nice, you smile and sigh. Ankles? Jesus the man has sexy ankles. Who knew that was a thing... Okay fine —king Zemo— you win. You're basically one wet pussy away from pledging your sword and fealty to him.

Laughing at yourself, you look over to Bucky and see that he's just as hopeless as you are at resisting. Shit at this rate, you're never going to see the outside world again.

Zemo's laughter is light. He's amused by the way he's got you both practically drooling. "Come here," He implores softly, but with no question of the command. "Come and tell me you're done— with this inside of you," He moves his hand down and grabs, not aggressively but in that way men do to really show you when they want you to look and you lick your bottom lip, drawing it in, your eyes flitting up to look into his, then back down. He's hard already. The way the soft black silk of those boxers clings to the length and curve of his shaft makes you breathe harder. "Let's see how long you can it before you change your mind."

You shrink back a little feeling your belly ripple with the ghost of so many orgasms that you hide your smile behind the back of your hand, angry that you're giving in, knowing you can't deny him as your dominant and that you really don't want to.

"What do you think James? Something other than sex?" He asks, raising his hips just a bit to slide his hand under the waistband.

"Yeah. Sure." Bucky mumbles, tossing his half-eaten apricot onto the board. "Maybe the beach tomorrow…"

Zemo gives a half chuckle in Bucky's direction and beckons you over. He rests back on his elbows to watch with his cock free of the fabric, laid heavy and hard towards his stomach, the underside of his shaft veined beautifully and wanting your tongue —no, you smile, not your tongue, your pussy— you can already feel the way he won't wait. You can see it in his eyes. He's going to grab you, grab it and shove in.

You're already moaning by the time you're close and Bucky comes up behind you to slide your own pajama shorts down over your ass. He's practically purring. He wants to see you ride that big dick too. Your moan blurs with your fluttering laugh in reply to him wanting you both so bad.

"Don't you want to see the sights?" You ask with a gasp when Bucky picks you up with one arm from behind to pull your shorts down past your knees.

"Yep." He says in your ear, nipping at it as he sits you back down, smoothly bending you over, ready to pull them off your ankles. Your hands are flat on the floor on either side of Zemo's legs and just close enough at his waist to get an eyeful of what's waiting for you.

Thinking you'll find him looking pleased and slightly impatient, you are more than surprised to find a look of pure irritation on Helmut's face instead. One so amusing that it stops your hand from closing around him.

"What's wrong?" You ask, drawing back, genuinely confused.

He sighs, shutting his eyes, shaking his head. "Your damn— babies ." He nods.

In unison, you and Bucky look over your shoulders to find the wonder twins sitting at attention. Their giant golden heads are tilted, looking very confused, panting, drooling, watching, and probably thinking if they wait just long enough, they'll be given something from the wooden board on the floor.

Bucky's forehead falls to your back as he laughs. "Not exactly the audience I'm into."

"Me either." You grin, pull yourself out from between your man sandwich and hike your shorts up. "Come on." You say with a loud sigh. Your simple command is all that's needed and the dogs follow at your heels out into the hall.

"Sorry loves, but now is not the time. Go and get Petra. Go! Go on!" You shoo them, but they stubbornly pant and wag their tails until you give up with a frustrated growl leading them to the back stairwell. "Go!" You point. "Go get a treat from Petra!". They turn together at the sound of the magic word, looking only slightly betrayed and trot away, tails and butts bobbing down the steps.

You look over your shoulder with the image of Zemo on his back waiting for you still emblazoned on your mind and trot to the bedroom with an eager little grin.

Pushing through, you find Bucky returned to his spot on the floor, picking at the remains of the spread and Zemo getting up, off to … pour another glass?

What is this? You stand in the doorway, looking back and forth between them. What are they doing? Fueling up? You try holding onto your smile, but something is clearly very wrong.

"Hey. What's that face?" You ask Bucky, ruffling his hair as you walk past.

In all the time you've been together, you've never seen him look at Zemo like this before. You can't quite place it; is he mad? No, this is a complex emotion to be sure, not something as simple as anger. Something upsetting has been said that much is easy to surmise, but how bad is it?

"Who pissed who off?" You ask and sit at the edge of the bed, crossing your legs at the knee.

Zemo is messing around at the little bar, dropping ice from the bucket into his glass with silver tongs, one at a time while staring at Bucky, still picking at the tray.

"Wow." You say, crossing your arms. "I walked a few feet away for like, half a minute. How is this even possible?"

Nothing. No reply. Just two stubborn men who are notoriously good at getting under one another's skin.

"Well, fine. Maybe you two need to work this out alone. I'm going downstairs to watch tv." You get up, but Zemo doesn't want you to go, and Bucky doesn't like it when you're upset, especially if he's the cause.

"I made a joke," Zemo says, glancing at Bucky again like he's assessing the damage.

Your mouth twists in thought as you try to figure it out. Was it about how they met, maybe? "Was it a bad joke?" You ask.

He gives one of his little sighs as he rests the arm with the hand that holds his drink over the other wrapped around his torso and leans against the counter, crossing his legs at the ankles. He'd look edible if he weren't trying to be serious; maybe thats' why he looks so good.

"I didn't mean it," Zemo says to him.

"Didn't you?" Bucky asks, looking up and quickly away.

"No." He answers matter of factly.

"Then why did you say it."

Zemo shrugs.

Bucky scoffs and sits criss-cross, looking no less than exquisite. God if they could be a little less sexy while having these domestic squabbles…

"James, if I were truly angry with you for giving me up, do you really think I would have extended the invitation? Do you, knowing me now as you do," He sets his drink on the counter, pushing off to walk across the room, robe open, slowly approaching until he is able to slide his hands down Bucky's face and tilt his head up so that they can look at one another. "Think that I was ever anything but completely in love with you?"

Bucky has a habit of letting his eyes betray him. Love comes first, then whatever emotion to push it aside. Right now it seems to be an attempt at holding onto the mixture of hurt, anger, and maybe a little resentment? "I don't know." He grumbles and attempts to pull away, but Zemo won't let him.

"Yes, you do."

"Stop."

"No. I'm sorry for making a joke of it; I know you were hurting. Giving me up was not easy…You did what you thought you had to do." He says in a way that makes it clear this is not the first time he's said these words to Bucky.

"I did the only thing I could and I'll regret it for the rest of my life." Bucky says, the bitterness directed towards himself.

Head tilting just a bit, Zemo realizes then what's going on. "You've been holding onto it all this time? Why didn't you say something?" He asks, stepping back to look at Bucky without looming over the man so much.

Bucky sighs like he never meant to say, but it's out there, no turning back now. "I just didn't want to bring it up. It was in the past. I mean, you were gone for so long."

He's trying to play it down, but you feel for him and the man he was during the year you watched him missing Zemo, "He brought it up Helmut, he just didn't know he was bringing it up," You add softly not wanting to call him out so much as you want to shed some light on what he went through. Bucky is not so good at hiding his pain as he thinks.

Zemo looks at you then back down. He gets it. Typically he always does. "I don't hold it against you and I'm sorry I haven't made that more clear. So you can't walk around blaming yourself James, please." He says his voice as soft as his touch. "You have enough unwarranted guilt and pain to work through without putting my name back on your list." He smiles affectionately, brushing his thumb over Bucky's strong brow and cheek.

"I am trying," Bucky says. He means it, but it's an ongoing battle.

Zemo's compassionate smile widens and you think he'll give Bucky a well deserved kiss, but he stops suddenly, standing like a jolt has gone through him. "Wait. Is that what this is?" Helmut drops his hands, stepping back. "Some sort of atonement?" His snarky laugh pierces the air as he shoves his hair from his eyes, turning away and spinning around just as quickly. Now it's his turn to display a wide range of feelings you can't place.

"What?" Bucky lifts his head, completely confused.

"This." Zemo raises his arms, backing away. "Our relationship and the makeup of it. Are you submissive to me because you feel guilty?"

Oh no…

Bucky pulls a face, appalled, offended, insulted… and then the look begins to melt away. His breathing slows, and his gaze floats down to the floor as he begins to actually consider what Zemo has said.

Don't you dare, you think. There's no way that's what this is about. Right? Not after all this time. But then, it hasn't been that long. Six months apart and the two weeks on the yacht and now this weekend with the week ahead. Shit…

Bucky glances at you, then back at Zemo. His brows knit tightly together as he struggles with the possibility. He did, after all, send the man he loves to a very desolate prison, and, at the time, he thought it was for life. You think back to all of the things the three of you have done together. All of the wonderfully dark things. You've never shied away from exploring different sexual tastes and desires; coming from Madripoor, you never had to. Everything was right there, just waiting to be tasted. But to think of something you've chosen as a lifestyle, something you love as dearly as you do these men being used as a way to heal and not simply enjoy when you were not aware of it? Well, you aren't sure how you'd feel about that.

Bucky's shoulders slump as he rubs his face.

Fuck, is he going to cry? This is not how you thought this day would end, but then if he needs to process in this way, you'll be there for him. At least you'll try.

Zemo leans away. He's unsure of what's happening too. "James?"

His shoulders shake.

"Bucky?"

Harder now he's shaking and then he drops his hands, revealing his laughter.

Your own nervous smile wavers. You have no idea what turn this is going to take.

Bucky looks up at Zemo and shakes his head with a humored sigh leaving his lungs. "You're kidding, right? You must be. You think I'm here because I feel bad? I mean, don't get me wrong. I do, in some ways, I might always. But shit— the way you beat my ass? Jesus Helmut. Physically I think I've more than "atoned for my sins." He laughs again, thinking back, "That one night, when you punished me for what I did to her," He glances over at you and sort of whispers as if he's embarrassed to say, "When you bent me over the bed— made me count off every strike of the belt…" Bucky's big eyes meet Zemo's but quickly look away, and you catch your lip with your teeth, keeping your smile held tight. "No. That night and all the others, are not why I'm here. Not at all." They exchange a look of that shared memory; you all do.

Zemo doesn't want to laugh but he can't help it. "You're saying all those years being the winter soldier and your kink truly is submission?"

Bucky winces rolling his eyes. "Yeah, Helmut. It's fucked up isn't it." He says, rocking his jaw, "You wanna laugh at me now? Point out the irony?"

You raise your hand, "I don't know if that actually..."

"Don't" Bucky cuts you off.

"Oh now James." Helmut says, changing his tone to one genuinely sympathetic," What's one of the fundamental rules of love? That true love starts within?" He smiles, walking back towards Bucky to pull him close. "I'm only teasing." He says gently. "And I shouldn't. It's a stupid defense. I use it when I know I’ve fucked up and don’t want to admit it. I’m sorry. Just ignore me."

"I tried that. You're like a very elegant bull in a china shop."

You giggle quietly.

"I can hear you." Zemo says, raising his brow at you and your smile warms to his. "Yes, well, I had to get your attention. You seemed intent on getting rid of me even though I knew how you felt. Which, as I've said to you before, I know why you couldn't explore it. Even in the moments when I made it clear I wanted you."

"I was just scared. That, and you were as good as gone, I just didn't see any way around it Helmut. I didn't know you'd have all of these plans. Yachts and French villas."

He shrugs "Part of the plan was for neither of you to know, and it worked. You're still here" He strokes Bucky's hair but looks over at you resting on your side. "Of your own free will because you choose to be. Yes?"

You nod "Yes of course." You answer.

"There's nowhere else I want to be." Bucky says, his gaze locked on Helmut. "Not if you paid me, begged me or forced me," Zemo looks down and you watch their profiles come slowly closer. "And I'm not mad, I'm just a little uptight about that day."

Even though I'm the one who went to prison?" Helmut asks. Bucky's gaze dances across Helmuts face and like you he settles on his lips.

" Because you're the one to went to prison."

"I still forgive you." Zemo insists and finally, their lips touch. It is the soft, easy kiss of love, not passion. Bucky's hand comes up and presses firm against Helmuts cheek keeping him close, and you have to hand it to them, they do know how to work through things better than most, and the make-up intimacy is always, well…

That little flicker of tongue makes your smile fade quickly and reminds you of what almost happened before the dogs ruined it. They part to look one another in the eye.

"And" He lets his gaze float your way "You were there to care for her, " He eyes you lying on the bed with a soft breath of a laugh.

"Think I did a good job?" Bucky asks, joining him.

You wouldn't let anyone else in the world talk about you like you aren't there except for them, but you do like when they ogle you together.

"Look at her, she's perfect. I don't think you had anything to do with that, but well done making sure she didn't fall into the hands of my many enemies." Zemo teases… you think. He stands "Come and fall into the hands of the men that love you." He says, his voice dropping deeper.

"So you're done fighting then?" You ask, rising slowly.

"It was never a real fight." Zemo answers. You go and kiss him sweetly feeling Bucky squeeze the back of your neck before he slips away "Just something that should have been said a while ago." He says pulling away.

You both look over at Bucky getting a class of water and you kiss Helmut’s cheek knowing he wants to go to Bucky.

"I would have been willing to have that conversation a while ago. Just so you know.” Zemo says at his side. “There was no need to go on carrying that with you for so long."

"I think I was nervous," Bucky says as he finishes his water.

"It really was hanging over him like a black cloud." You add going down to the floor to look for your favorite dried cherries.

"No secrets James, you know you can tell me anything," Zemo says, rubbing his smooth metal shoulder.

You smile, popping the tart, chewy fruit into your mouth. You love seeing them grow in the relationship.

"I do, actually. Thank you." He says and pauses to lean in and kiss him.

It was meant to be a peck. You can tell because he's still holding his water and his body is turned away, but that lasts no more than a few seconds before he's melting against Zemo.

It's funny you think —a dopey smile on your face as you watch— Bucky is taller than Helmut by about three inches in their bare feet, but you always forget. You could watch this brutal force of strength and power look so safe and content in the arms of the man he loves for the rest of your life if given a chance. Bucky leans into the kiss a little more and you eye the way Helmut circles the small of his back with his fingertips and wonder if he even knows that he does it? What does he do to you when you kiss?

Bucky's gasp snaps you out of your dreamy haze as you see that other side of him when he becomes this incredibly gorgeous display of sex, alive at Zemo's touch. He's nodding, sort of lowering as the Baron has his balls in hand through his boxers. You've missed what was said but whatever it was, Bucky is quickly submitting to it.

"Maybe it's a little obvious but— my house, my rules." Zemo smiles in Bucky's face and grips harder. "You know that I love you with all of my heart."

"Yes, Baron." Bucky says, through gritted teeth, holding the counter with his right hand, the vibranium braced on Zemo's shoulder.

"I only punish you for your own good. Especially for things like this. Such a betrayal. It is your fault after all." He says so casually you're annoyed that you've missed something yet again. And then your frown grows deeper.

He wouldn't…

Didn’t they just fix this? Not to mention the boundaries being pushed. You've crossed, blurred, and blown up lines, you've lived this life so long; but to punish Bucky for something that has affected him so deeply? You're not sure you can agree with it morally. Biting your tongue, you wait to see how Bucky will respond.

"Say it." Zemo says.

"It's my fault." Bucky manages, sinking just a bit more with a strained moan.

Zemo steps closer, putting his other arm around him to hold him close. "Next time, when I say put the dogs outside. I mean, put the fucking dogs outside. Do you understand?"

"Yes Baron." Bucky gives in and Zemo lets go kissing his cheek.

You drop your head back with a crack of laughter.

"That wasn't so bad was it?" Helmut declares, stepping back as Bucky slowly stands, the red in his face fading. "Looks like all I did was help move things along." Zemo laughs and Bucky protests, but he's not wrong. The massive erection under his boxers is begging to be toyed with again. Zemo looks over at you. "Why are you sitting there? Come on. I'd like to finish convincing you that we can spend all of our time fucking," He says in all seriousness but with that distinct spark of wild excitement in his eyes that makes people do what he says.

He should moonlight as a motivational speaker. "Fine. First, where's that candy bar Bucky?" You ask because you know you're going to need the fuel.

"I'm really happy you two finally had that conversation." You say, smiling at Bucky in the dark. You've come down into the garden for some water and air; it's so late you feel like two teenagers sneaking off together, having left Zemo asleep in bed. You're sitting at the little white iron table in the center of the garden on the pea-gravel path and Bucky looks up at you nodding.

"Me too. It was long overdue— obviously."

"Well, if there's one thing you're both good at, it's bottling emotions." You give him a playful smile.

Bucky agrees like you're the asshole but knows you mean no harm. He leans back, petting Lou, who followed you out. Their bond is unbreakable, and it's quite possibly the sweetest thing you've ever seen.

"Hey, I've been curious. How was New York? Helmut sort of hinted that it wasn't easy. Sorry for jumping right in on your first night back but I just worry."

"I know. But I really have been through worse." He says, and it doesn't take any stretch of the imagination to know he's telling the truth "Still, being separated from the people I love pushes the limits. Decades ago, it was my little sisters…"

This strikes a nerve. He's only mentioned them one time to you and never again.

"Then Steve. It's not the same with you and Helmut, I know you're alive and safe so that keeps me sane. I just feel like I'm always so far away…" His voice trails and you feel the lump in your throat hurt with the promise of tears.

"Bucky— I would come back with you, I would. I will!" You say, reaching for his hand on the table.

His smile is as sad as the vibranium is cool that closes around your fingers. "I know you would. And I'd be a fool to let you. How long do you think it would take before everyone looking for him closed in on you? And how long do you think it would take for me to kill them all to keep you safe. It's too dangerous." He says your name with the fear he feels at the thought of you risking everything just to go back and resume life with him in New York. "It was different before. I could pull a few strings, say you were just mixed up in his mess, fooled into going along with him, but it was over because he was in prison. Not anymore."

You sigh and sit back. You already know this.

"He has a place in Spain. Did you know?" You say, breaking the silence.

Bucky looks up at you. "What?"

You nod with a the tight-lipped smile of a woman in the know. "If this location is compromised, that's where we'll go,"

"You shouldn't have told me."

"It doesn't matter; you'll visit."

Bucky laughs. "Any other over-the-top locations I can add to the list?"

You consider telling him about the castle, but Zemo doesn't know that you overheard his conversation with Oeznik and the only reason you understood was that you forced Petra to tell you. Her loyalties lie with the family, but you and she have become quite close over the past few months. "No, I guess these two are enough."

"Ha!" Bucky is a little taken aback but not much. Nothing Helmut does really surprises him anymore. "Yeah, two is good," He jokes shaking his head. "New York is— lonely." He says, suddenly, looking you in the eyes, and your smile dies like someone blew out a flame. "I think I forgot about that part. Kinda wishing I'd stayed alone so that I would never have remembered."

"Really?" You ask, feeling the sting of his honesty.

He looks up, and you know instantly that he doesn't mean it. "No." He says with the sort of sweet dismissiveness that warms your heart.

"One day."

Bucky nods. "One day."

You bring your knees up under your chin in the chair, wrapping your arms around your legs. "So how's superhero...business…" Bucky is giving you a blank stare. You stare back.

"What?"

"You're serious right now?"

"What?" You feel a wave of heat. You know what he's talking about and you're trying not to blush like a fucking virgin.

"Really? Are we really not going to talk about what just happened?" He asks.

You slowly cover your mouth to keep from smiling pulling at your lips and look away. You don't know what to say, all you can do is look back at Bucky until your laughter threatens to wake the entire neighborhood.

"Shit…" You lay your head to your knee. "Um. I thought we'd just sort of be adults about it? Let it be?"

"I am being an adult! Adults talk about things, especially big moments in their lives. This was a big moment and I need to fucking talk about it." He whispers very loudly hitting the table.

You laugh against your thighs feeling your heart start to race as you drop your legs back down.

Looking at Bucky —happy and comfortable in a t-shirt and underwear— you can still see them, hear them, taste, smell, and feel them. Fuck it "Did it feel as good as I think it did?" You ask, instantly biting your lip. You feel nervous for him to answer.

Bucky slides down in his chair, hand behind his head, eyes up at the stars. He smiles, he sighs he laughs a little, he gets very quiet, and then he gets very serious. You give him all the time he needs. "I…" He pauses to think again "I did not imagine ever doing that… but… he looked so—beautiful. Not like the way you do." He sits up and stares at you again. "Its different. You're soft and warm, I want to protect you while warning everyone to get out of your way" He stops to laugh "You're home to me but Helmut… he's every moment I've ever been afraid or lost or scared and every time I've ever wanted more, a future, peace, love. I could see all of it. Right there; in the moment he looked back at me." He glances up at you and you can see that he's embarrassed to have said so much, but you don't give him any reason to be so he goes on. "Yes. Yes it felt good but it was more than sex. I've never really felt anything like it."

Your heart feels too tight. You reach for him, and he leans forward, dropping his head to rest on his cold arm bent on the table, and with a deep sigh, he takes your hand without looking. "It was the most natural thing that I've never done before," He says, his voice muffled in the dark space of his arm, "As natural as being with a woman. I think if I'd ever wondered about my sexuality before tonight, which trust me I haven't, but if I had, the moment I was inside of him," You hear Bucky's quick sigh, "I'd never doubt it again. He looks up at you, his face just a little flushed. "I can't compare the two of you, but I do know that I can't imagine never being inside of him again. I hope he knows that."

You just squeeze his hand, "I'm sure he does…”

It's happening so fast.

"Are you sure?" Bucky whispers in his ear.

You watch his black and gold hand curl through and up to press flat against Helmuts chest, holding him close from behind. "Yes," Helmut says, still confident in this moment of unexpected submission… but no. This doesn't have to always be an act of submission. This is an act of love. The games have been played tonight; Bucky has suffered for not doing as he was told. Now, here is his reward for nothing more than existing.

"You aren't my first James, far from it." Helmut says in the dark. "Far from it. But the first that I love, and the first that I want in this way because of it."

He smiles down on you, watching them with your legs spread on either side of theirs, comfortably laid on your back, and he leans to smooth his hand down your stomach and over to the bedding, where he picks up the little black remote "Don't worry," He says, and you realize your internal thoughts must show on your face. "It's all right. You still belong to me. He still belongs to me," He says, closing his eyes briefly, moving in slow, small waves with Bucky, who is losing himself to the excitement of what's about to happen.You can hear him laying kisses along Helmut’s back and shoulders, "This changes nothing, and you will both do as I say when I say it. Yes?" The all too familiar vibration against your clitoris begins, and your chin raises as your eyes shut, making you moan as he does from Bucky's increasing enthusiasm.

"Yes," You say quickly, watching with more anticipation and excitement and fear than you did when Bucky was the one between you.

Helmut gives a nod, and before you realize what he's doing, he reaches, pulls the panties aside, and runs two fingers along your spread divide. You're so wet you can hear the sound his fingers make as he glides and pumps them back and forth at your entrance, just enough to make your back arch, and then he lays the sticky champagne-like slick over your clit and lets the underwear snap back. You shiver and open your eyes.

"I love you." You whisper, catching your breath as Bucky leans to pull him back again, holding him so tight with his metal arm you're scared for him. Helmut's calm breaks just enough that you moan for him. You’ve never seen him make this face before. Bucky is breathing so heavy along his neck that you can feel it. Helmut looks off into the dark, but then he smiles.

"You won't break me, James. I promise." He says. And just before his eyes close and the air is knock from his lungs he grabs your thigh, and you grab his wrist. "I love you." He answers to the both of you.

"I still can't believe it happened," Bucky says, sitting up slowly. Lou lays his head in his lap, but Bucky pushes him away. "And why do I feel like I'd get on my knees for him even faster now? What the hell is that?" He laughs, sounding completely confused.

You laugh too and shrug. "I don't know. I’m sure there’s plenty of psychological work to be done there. But if it’s any consolation there’s just something about him. He’s the sort to get in your head no matter how you fuck. Pretty sure I warned you on the yacht,” you say and you both laugh. “Seeing him in a t-shirt and jeans helps— sort of?”

Bucky grins. "I wish I could stay long enough to see that version of him. For now he's still magic."

You sigh, shaking your head. "Yeah well, if it makes you feel better, I've seen most versions of him, and he is for me too. I think it's because we love him."

Bucky nods, smiles, sighs, looks off towards the wall of ivy and white flowers and you lose him to a memory that makes him blush.

"Okay, what?" You ask, shy to hear the answer.

"Nothing, just … the way you both looked." He glances at you. "I could see you too you know. You seemed afraid and then. Awed."

You quickly look away. It's embarrassing to hear, but maybe you were a little.

Helmut's hand slams into the wall well over your head and the slotted headboard. He reaches back with the other, grabbing for Bucky, pulling him close, urging him deeper—harder. His hand on the wall goes to a fist, Bucky's open mouth gasp becomes a moan against his ear, and their faces press close as they move. No, as Bucky moves, and Helmut has no choice but to move with him.

"When in all of that did you manage to see me? I mean I couldn't take my eyes off of you two." You say, staring at him, remembering it so well you're having trouble talking now. Your throat is tight, your chest rising and falling with the deeper breath of being so quickly aroused.

"I just opened my eyes." He says softly. "I had him in my arms, so tight around me, I could feel his heart racing under my palm. There you were beneath us. So pretty in that underwear," You both grin "I knew you were close; you had that little frown on your face." Your smile becomes a self-conscious eye roll, "I watched for as long as I could stand it, and then, well…" He happily shrugs.

Bucky is begging, pleading; he'll do anything to come. No, not just come— come inside of him. He wants to fill this man so badly he is gasping for air as he slams his hips forward, arms around his shoulders, mouth open, teeth grazing his neck and ear as he tosses out half-spoken pleas.

You're anticipating the way this will end, and just the thought of Helmut's aggressive explosion across your chest has you seconds away from beating them to a climax, but you wait to see how he takes it, how your Baron, the man who makes the rules and decides when and how to punish you both makes it through this. Both of his hands are on the wall, and Bucky has him by the waist now, but soon leans against him, his face pressed to the back of Helmuts head as he drives up and in so far you can only hear the deepest of breaths and moans that make it so easy to come.

It's your voice, your rhythmic breath and moan that sends them over.

"I can't stop," Bucky warns. You feel him touch your leg, his warm fingers gliding along your calf, holding you tight to both of them.

"Come with me." You hear Helmut's permission to you both and feel his hand on your thigh joining Bucky, and you rise onto your forearms back arching, breasts perked as you let the orgasm grab hold.

From them there is only the sound of skin on skin, their loud moans and deep ones mixed with gasps and your own feminine voice woven in.

The warmth that dots your chest makes you smile with your eyes closed as your contracted walls start to relax and your muscles begin to release. He'd given you the remote a while ago, thankfully, and you lay in the blissful still of the powered down vibration that only you control for the first and probably the last time.

Opening your eyes, you look down to find your breast and collar bones looking like a monochromatic Jackson Pollock. You'd laugh if you had any breath left, but you just look up to find them as quiet as you are, and that's how they stay for a while.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you." Bucky asks, "I hurt you, didn't I?" He sounds frustrated with himself but still high from the unbelievable thing that's just happened.

In his arms, Zemo shakes his head, his damp brown hair against Bucky's smooth black shoulder, "No. I told you, physically, you wouldn't—not too bad— my heart is the only thing in danger of being crushed by you." He says with a soft, very tired but very satisfied single laugh as he rubs Bucky's thigh beside his own slowly, "All right fine, maybe my right shoulder, and my lower back, maybe my left arm but…"

"God damnit Helmut!"

"I don't think he's ever fallen asleep before us now that I think of it." You say, looking up towards the third floor of the house.

Bucky nods. "Yeah, I thought the same thing. He's okay, though, right? Just messing with me?"

"You are the most self-aware partner I have ever known. You did not hurt him." You assure Bucky. "He said as much at least two hundred times."

Bucky smiles wide. “Sneaky little shit"

"Yep."

"Well." He says, sort of shaking off the magic of reliving the night, "Should we let him sleep and have a drink to celebrate?"

You scrunch your nose and draw your shoulders up, feeling only a little naughty. "Have I ever said no?"

"Not since I've known you." He says, hopping up to head back to the kitchen.

"Wait, are we celebrating you topping?" You ask with a confused snort. "I mean, I'm all for important moments, but just so we're clear."

"I think we're celebrating— me understanding who I am. My therapist would be proud."

"You still have one?"

"Nah. But if I did, seems like the sort of thing they'd say was a step in the right direction. Tell me I'm making progress towards becoming a better me or something."

"Ha!" You slap his ass ignoring the way Lou jumps around, thinking it's time to play. "Then grab a bottle of Zemo's best champagne. You fucked him so good I felt it."

Bucky laughs, the blush in his cheeks in stark contrast to the man who just an hour or so ago had his metal arm around Helmuts waist and the other palm to the wall as he shoved into the Baron like the world was going to end tomorrow and this was the last and only time he'd ever have this man— maybe it was, but something told you that was not the case.

He may look sweet, but you watched the way Bucky walked into the house, strutting like he owned the place. You laughed and warned him not to get ahead of himself.

"Remember," You said a little later, sitting on the counter, sipping your champagne, "You may have fucked him, but who gave you the permission?"

You watch as Bucky's little smirk wavers, his blue gaze falls to the floor, and he stops chewing on the Red Vines he'd also had in his pack (how much candy did he bring and why?) When he looks at you again, you wink at him, and he stands straight, crosses his arms, uncrosses them, huffs, looks at you, then hits you over the head with the whip of red licorice.

"Gee,thanks.” He squints at you heading for the stairs “You always know just what to say."

#Baron Zemo #Bucky barnes #bucky barnes/zemo #zemo x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader #winterbaron #winterbaron x you #polysexual #poly romance #working through some shit #healthy relationships #who would have thought

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