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questionableratatouille00 · 8 months

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ʜɪɢʜᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴄʜ. 5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an effort to get the two of you to bond, Tony Stark sends you and the ex-assassin Bucky Barnes on a road trip together. The problem? You hate each other. The situation? Two weeks in a car together. The reward: three days of a resort vacation. And the problem? He's kinda cute.

Warnings (Entire Series): Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, angst, fluff, crying, fighting, violence, chaos, mentions/talk of trauma, discussions of mental health, and potentially more.

Warnings: Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, talks of nightmares, eating and food, mentions of Bucky not doing so well, mentions of Bucky's trauma in general, and Bucky is probably written wrong. (Trying my best lmao)

A/n: Hi! So sorry that this came out later than expected, life is kinda kicking my ass right now. This chapter’s shorter than usual, but I wanted to at least put something out. I hope you enjoy!

||Part 4|| Part 5 || Part 6 (Coming soon!)

[Series Masterlist]

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𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒆

🄳🄰🅈 3

You slept in the next morning, and Bucky didn't have the heart to wake you. Well, he did, but he felt bad for last night. He knew you were right. God, he knew. He regretted it. It was a stupid argument to even get into in the first place.

The two of you had a habit of getting into stupid arguments. Over little things, like you sitting in the chair he always sat in at the dinner table, or him eating the snack you were waiting to eat. Sometimes it was over bigger things, like who fucked up the mission, or who's fault something was.

He couldn't even remember half of them. He just remembered that he'd had them with you, and that you pissed him off. A lot. But even just for three short minutes last night, he thought otherwise.

"Who gives a shit?" Your voice echoed through his brain, and it felt like every other thought he could hear you again. As he got ready for the day, he heard it over and over again.

When you woke up, he waited patiently for you to pack up your things and get ready. Once you did, he took down both of the room keys as you loaded the truck. He let you drive this time, thinking that it was only fair.

“Remember when you first came to the tower?" You asked, eyes never leaving the road.

Bucky did remember. He remembered it clearly. He remembered Steve's reassurance every five seconds, he remembered the fear. He remembered staying holed up in his standard Compound bedroom. Nothing unique or special, no extra decorations. Cold and unwelcoming. He'd slept on the floor. He deserved it, he knew. The bed made him feel like he was sinking, anyway. Beds always made him feel like that. Even now.

He gave a simple nod as you continued.

"How long had it been? Since..HYDRA?"

"Two years." He'd been getting better, during those years. Kind of. He learned to make decisions again. He figured out an easy way to live. He didn't have very many memories back then. Newer, more recent HYDRA stuff. But then the whole Zemo thing happened, and it had basically reset the entire process. And then the memories hit. He knew for a fact that he didn't have them all, and he wasn't exactly sure if he wanted them.

You nodded in the driver's seat.

The car drive felt long. There wasn't much talking, which meant Bucky was left alone with his thoughts.

He remembered what it felt like, after Zemo had triggered the Winter Soldier. His mind was so used to operating knowing that those times had passed that once he was back, when he was Bucky again, his brain seemed stuck in that mindset.

Steve hated it when he said it that way. "You were always Bucky. You've always been Bucky. You're not a machine, Buck," he'd say.

He'd isolated himself from the team, terrified both of them and for them. He couldn't prove to himself that he wasn't some kind of monster, he couldn't prove that he wasn't a danger to the team.

Steve had treated him like he was made of glass, always being cautious and quiet and polite. Steve had introduced him to the others, who either quietly avoided him or pretended like he didn't exist past a simple 'hello'. Bucky didn't mind.

But you weren't like that. You treated him like he was just another guy, arguing and bickering with him. Sometimes he'd leave annoyed, other times he was glad that you didn't treat him like a glass vase.

Bucky didn’t mind that either.

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You said nothing as you checked into two motel rooms. You couldn't get conjoined ones, so Bucky was just across the hall. The drive had been quiet. It was different, but a somewhat good kind of different. You hadn't argued, or bickered. You listened to your favorite playlist, and Bucky sat quietly.

Sleep came easily that night. You wondered if it was the same for Bucky.

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🄳🄰🅈 4

It was not the same for Bucky. He'd been up half of the night trying to fall asleep. He hated nights like these. He had them quite often. Sure, they were annoying as hell, but he'd take them over a nightmare any day.

It was day four of the trip. That meant thirteen days left, and then the two of you didn't have to share a truck ever again.

“Let’s play a game. Or something.” You suggested. You were driving again, because you’d made it to the left side of the truck first.

“Like what?” Bucky questioned.

“Ever played twenty questions?”

Bucky shook his head. He hadn’t.

“The way Kate and I play it is that you just take turns asking questions until twenty questions have been asked. You can’t lie and you have to answer it no matter what.” You explained. Bucky nodded. It seemed simple enough.

“Okay. I’ll go first.” You decided. “Hm..are you left handed or right handed?”

This was an easy question. “I’m right-handed.” Bucky answered.

“That’s one question. Now it’s your turn.”

Bucky couldn’t think of a question. There were so many things he could ask, but he wasn’t sure what qualified as a good question. He could ask your favorite color, but would that be too basic? He could ask where you would want to live if you weren’t an Avenger, but would that be too personal?

“C’mon, it’s easy. First thing off the top of your head.” You encouraged.

“How did you meet Kate?” He decided on an easier question, at least to start the game.

“When Clint brought her to the Compound. She made a Shrek joke, and then it just kinda happened.” You explained. Bucky had no idea what a ‘Shrek’ was, but he just went along with it.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Before the war, before HYDRA, Bucky would’ve said blue. Sergeant James B. Barnes would’ve said blue. Blue like the sky on a sunny day, blue like the ocean on a tropical island far away. Blue like Steve’s eyes, blue like his sister’s favorite and nicest dress.

He still is that Bucky. Just..different, now.

“Pink.” He answered simply.

“Pink?” The way you echoed it wasn’t mocking, nor disbelieving. Bucky didn’t really know what it meant.

“Pink.” He nodded. Pink like the sweatshirts in the men’s section in stores, pink like the sky when the sun’s setting. Pink like Natasha’s old ballet outfit from the time where he trained Widows in the Red Room. There was no pink in HYDRA. He was sure of that.

The game continued, but parts of Bucky’s mind lingered on the subject. He had a favorite color. He was free enough and in control to have a favorite of something. And his favorite color was pink.

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(My apologies if your blog couldn't be tagged- I have no idea why it won't work.)

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp @laughterafter @cjand10 @kandis-mom @emmsybucky @mrsnotfeelingsogood @matchat3a @identity2212

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes enemies to lovers #highway to hell

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andydrysdalerogers · 3 months

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The Type You Save ~ S I X T E E N

James "Bucky" Barnes and OFC Alexandra "Alex" Richards

Detective James Barnes hasn't seen the love of his life in three years. Since the night she was almost caught stealing a painting. He knows it was her and she disappeared leaving him confused and heart broken.

Alexandra Richards never expected to be pulled back into her old life two years after she left it. She had found love and a home and was happy. Until a note blackmailed her to take one last job. Three years later she walked into the last person she expected to see in San Francisco. Because he lived in New York right?

They always put family before everything. And he would do anything to get his family back. Because she's the type you save.

TW: mob, death, smut, rape intentions, angst, guns, family abandonment, dub-con, manipulation

A/N: the penaultimate chapter

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Previous: F I F T E E N

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Steve woke up with pain. Shit, he thought to himself. The light in the room was blinding, not helping the headache he had at all. He blinked slowly trying to orient himself. He went to massage his head but found he couldn’t move. This is what finally brought him into full consciousness. He looked to see Nate sitting next to him, tied to the chair with his arms behind his back. He finally lifted his head and saw Alex in front of him, also tied to a chair but gagged. He could see that she had been crying. “Alex?”

“Ah, Captain Rogers, good to see you are finally awake.” A man in a crisp suit stood in front of him. “I don’t believe we have met. Christian Grey.”

Steve stared daggers at the man. “You’re the asshole that is trying to rip my family apart. Trying to take my brother’s wife. My nephew’s mother.”

“She is mine,” Christian snarled. “She was always mine.” He punched Steve in the face. Steve raised his face back up, a trickle of blood running from the corner of his lip. Alex muffled scream came from across the room. A laugh could be heard, and he looked to see another man with Zemo standing next to him.

Christian walked over to Nate. “I knew you would betray me, Nathaniel. You were always weak, especially for my girl.”

“She was never your girl.” Nate looked defiantly towards him. “You took an innocent girl and ruined her. I did everything to protect her. You just wanted to fuck her up. We had a code, ethics.”

Grey got right in his face. “Don’t act like you had to moral high ground,” he snarled. “You were right there next to us, doing my dirty work without a second thought. You lusted after Alex just like every other man. Let me rephrase, you were in love with her.”

Nate didn’t blink. “Yes, I do. I loved her so much, but she deserved more than this life. I had no problem helping her escape if it meant she was happy. I couldn’t save my soul, but I could save hers.”

Alex let the tears openly flow. She knew Nate had a crush, but she hadn’t known how deep it had gone. She looked at him with sorrow. Nate knew what she wanted to say but he simply nodded.

“That is so romantic. A declaration of love,” Grey mocked.

“Well, it’s better than what you think you are calling love.” Nate threw back. “Tell her. Tell her how you made her an orphan. How Walker ran them off that cliff. That you actually found her brother a few days after he tried to leave and tortured him when he refused to give his blessing. How he begged you to spare her life. How you slit his throat and watched him bled out on the same floor you made her bedroom in.”

Alex’s eyes widen at Nate’s words. She started to scream through the gag and buck in the chair. Her mind on Simon. She had assumed he was alive but underground. Underground was right but he hadn’t been alive in years.

Christian roared at Nate. “You think giving her these truths would make it better? I should kill you first, so she knows she is powerless to stop this. Walker.” Christian turned to face Alex as Walker went up to Nate and punched him in the gut, the force tipping the chair over and sending Nate onto his back. Walker picked him back up and swung at his face, his nose now bleeding but unconscious.

Alex continued to scream until Grey went and ripped the gag from her mouth. “You’re a monster! You killed my family!”

“I only did what I had to do to keep you, Alexandra. I wanted you from the moment I saw you.” He saw the confusion in her eyes. “You don’t remember? You wandered into a game one night, looking so innocent and beautiful. I knew I had to have you. But Simon refused. So, I eliminated the obstacles.” He laughed with such malice that it made Alex flinch. “You were so easy to mold into what I needed. Now, it’s time for some negotiations.”

Outside, the police were slowly surrounding the home and garage. Infrared camera detected no one in the house but they still send a team in to make sure. James and Tony were waiting at the command center with the local police captain Thor Odinson. “The house is clear, but it looks like someone was injured. They found blood in one of the bedrooms.”

“Alex,” James whispered and closed his eyes. He snapped them open. “Have you found Captain Rogers?”

“No, but we still have the garage that is a ways back.” Thor looked at his colleagues. “I would ask but I already know you won’t stay put.”

“Sorry, but my entire family is in this.” James pulled on his vest.

Tony moved to stop him. “Bucky, are you sure you can handle this?”

“I need to bring them back to Drew. He can’t lose them.” He checked the clip on his gun. “I’m taking Grey dead or alive.”

“What negotiations?” Alex kept breathing deep, trying to level her head. But all she saw were thoughts of her parents, her brother, ripped away from her.

“I have some paperwork that needs to be signed.” Grey smirked. “Formalities, really.”

“Formalities? For what?”

“For you to be completely mine. We have things that need to be resolved.”

Alex lifted her chin. “I won’t sign anything for you, you fucking prick.”

Christian didn’t say a word as stepped towards her. About six inches away, he leaned to her face. “Watch. Your. Mouth.” And without another warning he slapped her, her face rearing as it moved from the force. A cry left her mouth as the pain radiated.

“Don’t touch her!” Steve yelled, trying to move the restraints. He felt one of the ropes slip but didn’t let on as he slowly freed one of his hands.

“I won’t touch her again Captain. Not until we finished at least, and I claim my prize.” He whipped back to Alex. “These papers.” He threw them on the table next to her and turned her in her chair. “You will sign them. Otherwise,” he grasped her chin to have her face the men tied up, “I will make you watch as we began to play with them. Walker, as you know, loves to have fun with new friends.”

Alex’s eyes glanced at Walker, an evil smile gracing his face as he played with a knife from his belt, twirling, glinting with menace. “What are they?” she whispered.

“Marriage dissolution papers. I want you to be mine and first I need to end your joke of a marriage to that cop.”

Steve pleads with her. “Don’t sign them, Alex. Its ok. Everything is going to be ok.”

Alex could barely see him through the tears building up in her eyes. “I have too Stevie. I need to save you.”

“No, you don’t Ale. You were the one we needed to save. Everything will be ok. Please don’t sign them.”

The SWAT team approached the garage silently, James and Tony among them. They all positioned themselves near the windows and doors. James glanced in to see the three people tied up, Alex’s face red but could see someone with their head down and Steve with what looked like a hand free but playing it off. “We have three hostages in there, one who looks unconscious,” he whispered. They could now hear the conversation going on.

“This is all so sweet,” he heard Grey say, but now is not the time. A gun cocked back, ready to fire. “Now, Alexandra. What have you decided?”

He could hear Alex sobbing quietly. “What happens if he doesn’t sign? You need two signatures.”

“To save your life, I’m pretty sure I can get your officer to sign them. He gets everything after all. Your business, your money. Everything but your son. I’ll raise him after this. Bring him up to be a good soldier and eventual heir. You will still be his mother, but you will be my queen.”

Alex face was one of horror, matching the one she could see on Steve’s and unknowingly James’s as well. “You can’t have him,” she whispered.

“Oh, I will pet. And we will have others. Our own little family.” Christian laughed, echoing in the garage.

Steve saw out of the corner of his eye that Nate was waking up. Nate looked around and saw Steve waving his loose hand at him. He gestures to charge, and Nate understood. He waited until Walker turned his back on the men. Steve loosened his other hand holding the rope, so no noise was made. He glanced around for a weapon and saw James in the window. James winked and Steve understood. They were no longer alone.

He saw the men waiting for Alex to make her decision. He subtly glanced at Nate and nodded once.

James got ready after explaining what he saw. He made it to the main door. And took a breath. Please God, make sure they are ok. He closed his eyes and opened them with focus. The SWAT team took position in front, their tactical gear making the practical choice for all. Odinson counted down in his ear piece. “Breach in three, two, one… “

“Let’s have it, Alex. I want an answer. NOW!”

Alex pulled in a breath as she could see that Steve was free and motioning Nate, looked in her direction. But not at her. And it hit her. He was here. James was here. “Fine, I’ll sign. But I need my hands. I want to read it. To understand what you are taking away from me.”

Grey smirked. “Sure.” He let go of the tie on her wrist and she flexed. She picked up the papers and started to read them, her eyes moving but actually observing the scene. Walker and Zemo had their backs to Steve and Nate, a huge mistake on their part. Grey had his body turned as well.

Steve saw that he had Alex’s attention. He held up a hand counting down. Closing his fist, he quietly went up to Walker, Nate up to Zemo and charged. Steve put Walker in a choke hold while Nate charged into Zemo’s stomach, dropping both. Grey turned to the commotion and then back as the door burst open.

“Police!”

Grey didn’t hesitate, firing at the officers as he ducked behind the desk. Alex pushed herself back out of the way, but Grey grabbed her. Walker loosened Steve’s hold, turned and pointed his gun at Steve, but a SWAT officer took him out before he had a chance.

Nate was loose from the chair and began to wail on Zemo. Zemo pushed him off, but Steve got there with Walker’s gun. “Move and you die, “ cocking the gun back.

As the police moved in, Grey took hold of Alex and used her as a shield, his gun at her head, arm around her neck. James ran in and stopped. “Ah, Sargent Barnes. Nice of you to join us.”

“Stop!” James put his hand up to stop the other officers. Steve looked up and his face fell. Nate’s face twisted in anger at the scene. “Ok, just let her go.”

“Let her go? No, I don’t think I will.”

“Jamie!” Alex cried.

“Its ok Allie. Everything is going to be ok, doll.” James took in her disheveled state. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head slightly. “No.”

“Ok enough chatter. You are going to talk to these nice officers and let us walk away. I’m going to put her in the car with me and we are going to drive far away. I won’t hurt her, and you get to live.”

“That’s not going to happen.” James kept his gun trained on him but had no clean shot.

A movement in his peripherals caused Grey to shift. “Think about what you are going Captain. I just need to pull and the world ends,” stopping Steve in his tracks.

“Ok, let’s just remain calm,” James called out. “You have no clean exit, Grey. I don’t want to kill you, but I will if you try and take her from me again.”

“Take her? She was mine to begin with! She was always mine! And you, you just charmed her with your Brooklyn ways!” Grey screamed. “You took the only thing I have ever loved!”

“She ran from you. What does that tell you?”

“Alex just needed time.” Grey was letting his delusions out. “Didn’t you just need time pet?” He grasped her neck harder, making her cry out. “She’ll see that we are perfect together. I just need to get rid of the obstacles. I just...” his eyes moved to James. “I just need to get rid of you.” He moved his gun away from Alex and pointed it at James.

“No, please!” Alex yelled. “I’ll leave, I’ll stay with you. Please don’t hurt him.” She cried harder. “Please don’t kill him.”

“You need to stay with me Alex and the only way is if he is gone.” His attention was now on Alex, watching her beg for her husband.

“Please Christian, I’m begging you to leave him alone.”

In the chaos of her pleas, Nate moved closer to James. He knew how unstable Grey could be. He got around Steve just as Grey refocused the gun on James.

“Thanks for keeping her safe Barnes. But it’s time to go.”

Alex screamed as the gun fired at James. “Jamie!”

James fell over, the wind knocked out of him after he hit the floor. He coughed and looked up to see Alex fall to her knees leaving Grey wide open. He fired and hit Grey right in the chest, the blood splattering onto Alex as Grey fell over on top of her.

That’s when James realized a body was pinning him down.

“Nate!” Alex screamed

James realized that this was Alex’s friend who jumped in the way to save his life. He pushed him over to see blood seeping from his stomach. James immediately put pressure on the wound. “Steve! Get Alex!”

Steve pushed Grey off of Alex. Steve checked her over as she thrashed to get to James and Nate. “Stevie please, I’m fine!” She finally pulled free. “Alex, wait.”

She fell next to Nate. His eyes looked around panicking until he saw her face. “Its ok Nate, it’s going to be ok,” she whispered.

“We need EMTs in here now!” James yelled. “Come on Nate, keep your eyes open.”

“Please Nate, keep your eyes on me,” Alex pleaded. She took his hand into hers. “You have to live, ok? I need to kick your ass for being so stupid.”

Nate tried to smile, blood coming from his mouth, staining his teeth. “Love. You,” he labored to say.

“Love you too Nate but don’t do this ok. My son needs to meet you.” She watched as his eyes began to flutter. “No, no, no, Nate come on, stay with us.”

The EMTs rushed over, and James moved out of the way to let them work. He went to Alex to move her out of the way. “Come on Allie.”

“No, I can’t leave him! Nate! Nate!” she screamed as James picked her up and pulled her away. “Jamie please, he needs me.”

“I know doll, I know. I’m sorry.” He held her close as she screamed for her friend.

Nate felt cold, but when he looked into Alex’s eyes, knowing she was now safe, he felt at peace. He let his eyes close as the medics worked on him. He could rest now that she was safe.

I'm sorry... I'm so so sorry....

@patzammit

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@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

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#andy's shenanigans #andy's hea #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #the type you save #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fandom #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky x ofc #Steve rogers #detective AU #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes smut

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thedogsled · 3 months

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Chores

Card Number: B089 Square Filled: Y1 “You’re such a tease” Word count: 625 Rating: PG-13 Main pairing: Helmut Zemo/Bucky Barnes Major tags: domesticity, fluff, horniness Summary: Bucky is very distracting, and Zemo has to pretend it’s not being done on purpose.

Zemo’s eyes linger on Bucky despite his best efforts to pretend to resist. It’s been exceptionally hard, simply on account of the fact that Bucky has been going out of his way to be distracting. For one thing: doing the washing up shirtless. Who does that? There he is, metal arm glistening in the light coming through the kitchen window, shoulders occasionally rolling along with the sway of his hips as he dances in place to the music from the radio–and Zemo’s supposed to resist that? Pretend he doesn’t see it?

Things don’t get much better when Bucky’s doing the yardwork. Raking up leaves is serious business, but of course it’s expected that such physical labor won’t be much of a warm up to a man who has more strength in his pinky finger than most others. So, of course, Bucky spends at least two hours working on it, raking and then bagging the leaves, blowing the rest into the corner of the yard and bagging those too, and - to further the illusion of it being hard work - he stops near the end of the work to grab the hose and spray the water up in the air, letting it rain down on him as he laughed.

The consequence of this, of course, is that his too small shirt sticks to every angle of his body as he finishes work, and his long, dark hair needs to be repeatedly shaken out as the natural air dry crimps it into his natural curls. Zemo, reading a book on the porch, has to pretend to look away every so often, but he - like every housewife with a direct view of their Indiana back yard - can’t help but drool into his lap when he’s sure Bucky’s gaze is busy elsewhere.

Zemo cooks dinner, which does not really feel like a fair share of the day’s labor, but then, Bucky is busy downstairs on a call to his therapist. Staying busy in the kitchen, clinking pans and keeping the bacon hissing allows Bucky the confidence to speak freely, and Zemo knows that he deserves that, even if he frequently finds himself agitated by the advice the therapist passes on to Bucky. Some of it, he feels, seems extremely out of touch with what Bucky specifically has been through, and relating his experiences to those of other veterans, or even other former POWs, makes for ill fitting suggestions. Fortunately, it means that Zemo ends up hearing most of the sessions regurgitated over, as Bucky vents his frustrations directly to him in turn, with an edge of mutual hatred for his doctor, which puts them both in a better mood for the rest of the evening.

After dinner, then, things inevitably turn frisky, and Bucky laughs when Zemo’s impatience to get his own shirt off makes a button ping across the room, never to be seen again.

“What’s the hurry?”

“You don’t get to sit there and tell me you don’t know,” Zemo growls, trying to be more patient with the other buttons and failing. His shirts are expensive–what kind of idiot decided an expensive shirt needed to have smaller buttons?

“Don’t know what?” Bucky purrs, in that specific sultry tone only he could perform which had Zemo’s head snapping up sharply. And there he was, with his shirt off already, propped on one elbow with his metal hand already down the front of his own pants.

“You…” Zemo blushes, flustered. “You’re such a damn tease. You know what you do to me and you do it on purpose.”

“That right?” Bucky’s tongue pokes out between his lips - just a miniscule amount, but it’s unmistakable - and Zemo tackles him like he’s an oasis, and he hasn’t had a drink in years.

#bucky barnes bingo #winterbaron #ficlet

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six-demon-bag · 7 months

Note

How do you think about the movie "The Falcon and The winter soldier"?

mmm my opinion on tfatws…mixed bag and i dont think ive ever put it into coherent words outside of random messages with too many exclamation points.

things i liked:

so much opportunity for fic!!!!!

zemo

john walker

bucky suffering

hydra trash parties are canon now!!!!

things i did not like:

they tried to tackle a lot of social issues and flopped on them all

character assassination for literally everyone - sam? where’s his understanding of people? rude comments about bucky, his terrible approach after lemar died, cmon he is so much better than this!! i know he is!!! bucky? aaaaaaaa dont get me started. >:( john? they seriously shorted his character and backstory here, there is so much to explore and they just went all one dimensional villain even though thats not how he is, and the material is there in the show!! they just couldnt handle making him both sympathetic and give up the shield apparently. must get off my john walker soapbox sharon? she deserves to be more evil. zemo? well he’s perfect .to me. more screentime.

uhh lets wrap that up there

#i am not known for my hard hitting coherent analysis #tfatws thoughts #sixdemon answers

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undercoverpena · 2 years

Note

RANDOM Q ALERT. What was the last song you listened to and which boy does it remind you of? (PS! Praying you have had a better day)

I wanted to reply with a cheery song, but I’ve not listened to many. I’m torn between the man below and zemo - but I hadn’t written for you lot in a while, so wanted to give you something quick, easy. as the zemo one would be looooong with a backstory and everything. but, here you go, some Murdock angst. (Equally anyone wants the zemo one, hit me)

matt murdock x reader

angst, so much angst. written on phone.

song: sam smith - I know I’m not the only one

______________________

As soon as you hear the piano keys being played, you’re pretty sure your heart drops. Even if you try to hide it, taking a sip of your drink, pushing your hip further into the bar—just to feel something, needing to be grounded.

The tune carved into your bones with how often you play it. The song for your heartbreak as you try to smother your pain with wine, beer or spirits.

Because you shouldn’t have kissed him. And you most definitely shouldn’t have taken a cab ride back to his.

You don’t mean to, but you let your eyes cross the room to him. Brushing over him, light, meaningless. Even if it means everything.

Even if you’re held together by mirror-talks and quick motivational speeches.

Because you love him.

You have done for a while. And he’s your friend. He’s best friends with your best friend, and…

Sighing, you bring your drink to your lips. Attempting to focus on the way the edge of the wood is digging into your skin. Leaving a mark, most likely.

Just like he did.

You downed your drink, even if it made you wince. Needing to halt your thoughts, desperately realising you needed to leave as you placed the glass on the counter.

Because if you stayed, if you let your eyes fall to him, you’re sure he’ll read you like a book. Already so open to him, his fingers knowing you as if he’s studied you.

You grab the strap of your bag, turning your back to the room, to the song. Thankful it was warm, that you hadn’t needed to go back to the corner where they all were—where he was. Pushing open the door, letting the city wash over you, allowing you a chance to breathe, to swallow.

That tremor in your throat, the warning side of a lump, of a sob. Your hands wrapping around yourself, nails digging into your arms as you try to push on, trying to move with urgency.

Only to feel him.

His fingers taking your arm, turning you to face him. Your eyes reluctant to meet his, even if he’s already burning his senses into you.

Because that’s what Matt Murdock does.

“Matt…”

“Shh,” he whispers, pulling you close to him.

And you should fight him, even if it feels nice—feels exactly like what you need. Your eyes opening wide, staring over his shoulder at the moving cars and people. None of them realising, none of them noticing that the Devil of Hells Kitchen is in plain clothes.

That he’s holding you together.

“I can’t…” you whisper, trying to wiggle free.

And he whispers your name. A sound that’s like a key to the chains you’ve been wrapping around yourself, determined to keep yourself from letting it all come loose.

The mere sound unlocking a memory of him whispering it in your name, of his hand on your neck, of his hips meeting yours.

You press your palms to his chest, pushing him, blinking tears back. Not wanting to let them fall. Refusing to let them fall.

“Please,” you beg, voice cracking. “I can’t be…”

“Can’t be, what?”

Your bottom lip trembles, shaking your head, knowing he’s seeing it all—in his own fucked up way. Another secret, another deceitful action on his part.

Like the nightly routine. Like the woman he drops everything for.

His hand moves to cup your cheek. “Sweetheart—“

The name pulling you back, wrenching yourself from his touch. A look of disgust so powerful, you’re sure it spoke volumes even to him.

“I can’t be a placeholder, Matt. I deserve… I’m worthy of better than being a backup.” You let it wash over him, providing him a second. “I know, okay. A-and it’s fine. I’m f-fine with not being more than fri-friends…”

Even if you’re not.

The door of the bar opening again, releasing a few seconds of the song into the air.

“…but I need to stop loving you as something more, to do this. To be around you,” you say, running your tongue over your lips. “Otherwise… I’ll lose you, and you’ll lose me. For good.”

He doesn’t say anything.

And you’re not sure if that’s worse.

Your stomach bubbling, almost fluttering with nerves. Even if you should feel relieved, almost free. You’d said it, you’d let the words out.

“Good—“

“I can’t…” he began. “I can’t let you go… I care about you. I… I can’t.”

You almost held your breath. Almost let yourself believe in a fairytale. But, this is Hells Kitchen. There were no magical godmothers or glass slippers. There was no carriages or magical kisses.

Straightening your spine, you painted a smile on. For your sake, more than his. “Try.”

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x oc #daredevil x reader #kind souls #asked and answered

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frostironfudge · 2 years

Note

🎪 house of song

Love you like a love song by Selena Gomez + Civil war Bucky

(I chose civil war Bucky because in my opinion he was at his most vulnerable..so he should be showered with this song..just wanted to share my thought process)

🥰

I Want You To Know

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 826 || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Warnings: not canon compliant, sort of fluff, angst, bucky struggling to come to terms with no longer having to be tws, reader comforting bucky, crying by both, happy ending, post civil war.

A.N: thank you for this request under house of song, i'm sorry i couldn't write more i just loved how it flowed and i was surprised it was more in the drabble category than one shot, i hope you enjoy!

Main Masterlist || frostironfudge's funfair masterlist

His breathing is soft against your skin, head resting on your chest as you run your fingers through his long hair. Muscles weary, aching, he’s tired.

Your hands move to his shoulders, Bucky lets out a quiet sniffle.

“I’ve got you, baby.” You whisper, softly kissing his temple.

“So tired of running.” He whispers, hand tracing over the bandage on your arm, “Keep getting you hurt.”

You shake your head, “Just need to get better at defence, I know you’re tired of running. Just a while more right? Then we’ll be safe.” You assure, Steve and the others stayed back in Siberia, as you and Bucky took the QuinJet.

His arm ripped away, you gave Steve a piece of your mind, all of it could have been prevented.

Had Steve just explained better.

Had Tony just listened better.

Had Steve just allowed Tony a moment to understand. Had he just let the man mourn for his mother.

Now the Avengers all sat fractured in fragments, scattered.

Your family was in tatters because of Zemo, because he manipulated and played with emotions.

“It isn’t your fault.” You murmur, he turns his head, hearing your heart beating.

“Should have just stayed back in HYD—,”

“No. Don’t you dare complete that sentence.” You cut him off.

“None of this is your doing. You were at the mercy of your circumstances. You began doing good the minute you gave up that mask. You kept doing good as you tried to protect yourself from being taken again. You’re doing good by trying to get better.” You cup his face between your palms.

“What about you? I’m tainting your good, don’t deserve your love. All this work trying to get better, I see all the fucked up shit I’ve done. How can you want to remain with me?” He wonders, blue eyes brimming with tears.

“You saved my life, James Barnes. In more ways than one.” You tell him, your heart searing in pain at the weight he carries.

He says your name, sounding broken as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. Clutching you closer.

“You can do it, you can get through this ordeal. You will get your life back, Bucky.” You assure him.

Your hands smooth over his skin, he sighs at the contact. His own hand keeps you close flush against him.

“I know you think you aren’t worthy of good. I know you scream till your voice numbs during the nightmares. It pains me that I can’t protect you from those, I’d take them on myself if I could.” You admit, stray tears falling from your eyes.

“But you’re wrong, you’re wrong when you think you don’t deserve good, that you think you deserve this turmoil as penance for things you were forced to do.” Your voice breaks, your chest heaves as Bucky shifts you both so you’re straddling him, now you stay hidden in the crook of his neck.

“You’re wrong. I love you. I love you but you’re wrong about what you deserve.” You press your palms against his chest. Warm skin under yours own.

“You can’t say that.” He says, “I’m, you can find someone better.”

“No.” You lift your head, locking onto his eyes. Grasping his palm and pressing it to your sternum, his eyes shift to your hands holding his against your skin.

“No one compares to you. This heart holds love only for you.”

“You will live a trapped life with someone like me.” He argues.

“I feel as if I’ve been set free with you, Bucky. As if I can breathe easier.”

He just stares at you. Your heart beats erratic against his palm.

“You won’t leave even when you see the ugly, the pure darkness I come from?” His cheeks and nose are red, tears sliding down his cheeks. Lip quivering as the panic of you leaving sets into his skin and bone.

“I will stay despite it, Bucky without darkness you wouldn’t be able to see the light and if, if there is darkness all around us and I can see you that means that you’re light.” You rest your forehead against his, Bucky closes his eyes, heart finally understanding you don’t want to leave, that you wouldn’t leave, that he would not have to tear you both apart by refusing to be with you.

“You won’t hurt me Bucky, we both have blood on our palms. It has been washed away, you won’t taint my skin with yours and I won’t taint your skin with mine.” You tell him, he nods.

“I love you, Bucky.” You whisper, finally saying those words the two of you danced around.

His face morphs, more tears but a smile finds itself on his lips.

“I love you, Doll.” He whispers back, cupping your face to draw close.

Salt mixes with the taste of his lips against yours.

The kiss holds love, hope, intertwining happiness with his destiny.

permanent tags: @stevesmewmew @pandaxnienke

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violetwinterwidow01 · 9 months

Text

Civil War: Airport

Imagine: Steve needs Cevyn's help knowing she's quite stubborn.

°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

Clint: "Cap, We need her."

Steve: "I know. But she's not easily convinced."

Wanda: "Do you want me to contact her?"

Steve: "Yes."

(Wanda calls Cevyn through her mind)

(Cevyn snaps in)

Cevyn: "Wands, that's not how I imagined you screaming my name."

(She jokes with a smirk making Wanda laugh.)

Clint: "What!?"

(Ignoring Clint, Steve speaks.)

Steve: "Cevyn, I know you're helping Tony, but we need you. We have a plan."

Cevyn: "I wasn't planning to, I just wanted to move on. But since you know I'm one to listen, convince me."

(Steve starts explaining)

Cevyn looks around at everyone questionably, then looks back at Steve

Steve: "Cevyn, are we clear?"

Cevyn: "Sorry, it's taking me a minute to process all the bull that just came out of your throat..."

Steve: "Bull -"

Cevyn: "So let me get this straight, you want me to help you get dreamy McHandsom out of here as fast as possible before they show up, right?"

(Bucky blushes)

Steve: "Yes."

Cevyn: "Making us fugitives of the law, knowing that some of us will be going to prison?"

(She walks toward him.)

Steve: "Yes. I know it's a risk, but we could use your help."

(She cups his face.)

Cevyn: "Did you take a couple of "Stupid pills" today? Because I worry about you."

(Clint, Bucky, Wanda, Scott, and Sam laugh.)

Steve: "Cev-"

Cevyn: "And why is Scott here?"

(She walks over to Scott and hugs him.)

Scott: "Hey, Cevy!"

Cevyn: "Wassup?"

Steve: "You know Lang?"

Cevyn: "I'm from Oakland. He's from San Francisco. You do the math."

Steve: "Scott?"

Cevyn: "I was looking for interesting friends, but that's beside the point. Do you know how stupid this sounds?"

Sam: "Do you have any other options?"

Cevyn: "Uh, yeah. You give him to me because I know he's innocent."

Bucky: "You do?"

Cevyn: "Yes, I have powers, plus I rewatched that news video enough to see it was a mask. I also wanna say sorry for kickin' your ass earlier."

Bucky: "It's okay. I'm Bucky."

(She's gorgeous)

Cevyn: Cevyn.

(She shakes his hand and hears his thoughts.)

Cevyn: "Thank you!"

(Bucky looks at her confused.)

Bucky: "What do you-"

Cevyn: "I can hear your thoughts."

(He blushes)

Bucky: "I'm sorry..."

Cevyn: "Oh no, you're fine. You're not too bad yourself. "

(They both blush and stare.)

Sam: "Cevyn..."

Cevyn: "Sorry, like I was saying, I can take him to Wakanda and help tell your truth. Sounds a lot better than whatever the hell that was."

Steve: "We don't have time for that. They want him now. We gotta get him out of here."

Cevyn: "Why you insist on making things harder than they have to be, I will never understand."

Steve: "Cevyn -"

Cevyn: "It's like your mind isn't there. It's out there somewhere. You can't even see it anymore. At this point, it's a speck of dirt!"

(Everyone laughs, except Steve.)

Steve: "Cev, will you please help us? Since you think this plan is terrible-"

Cevyn: "Nope, not "THINK". I know."

Steve: "Please?"

Cevyn: "I need a minute."

Sam: "We don't have time-"

Cevyn: "I need a minute."

(Silence for a second)

Steve: "What are you think -"

Cevyn: "I'm thinking you want this vein in my forehead to pop just... BE QUIET."

(More silence...)

Everyone: "Cev-"

Cevyn: "Alright, fine!"

Steve: "What?"

Cevyn: "I will help you."

Steve: "You will? You'll be on the tarmac?"

Cevyn: "Hell no, I'm helping from afar just in case this goes to shit."

Steve: "It won't."

Cevyn: "I said "just in case", but if it does, you're on your own. Okay, because I- I can't go to jail. Again."

Steve: "What do you -"

Cevyn: "It was his fault."

(pointing to Scott)

"But I mean it, if we go down, YOU are going to Feel. My. Wrath. Are we clear?"

Steve: "Yes, thank you. I know I'm an idiot and I don't deserve a friend like you."

Cevyn: "Hmm, Can't argue with that."

Steve: "But I appreciate this. Thank you."

(Steve kisses her forehead.)

Cevyn: "Mmhm... Im'a go, you guys get ready. When you're done with this, and whether or not you find Zemo, I'll send the jet some coordinates so you can find me."

Steve: "Okay."

Cevyn: "He's handsome, by the way." (towards Bucky). "You're very handsome, by the way."

Bucky: "Thank you, you're very pretty."

(Cevyn blushes)

Cevyn: "And he's gotta a good eye."

(She winks and snaps out.)

#black reader #captain america civil war #bucky barnes x black reader #team cap #y/n #also on wattpad

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kitkatt0430 · 2 months

Text

So I'm finally watching The Falcon and the Winter Soldier and... I'm not sure how I feel about it thus far.

I do like Sam & Bucky's dynamic. Bucky being offended that Sam gave up the shield makes sense because Bucky misses Steve and is projecting things on to Sam. It's not fair, because Sam is his own person and deserves the chance to find himself first, but it's very human of Bucky to behave that way. Especially while he's struggling to make apologies to the people he hurt as the Winter Soldier, probably because he feels it's selfish to seek this catharsis for himself when it means dragging this pain up for them instead.

In turn Sam is also kinda projecting his feelings about Steve onto Bucky. Steve left Sam with a legacy he feels unsuited for, or at least unready for. Bucky is Sam's connection to Steve and he doesn't need Bucky piling on, making him feel guilty about giving up the shield when he already feels bad about it himself. At the same time he really wants to have a good working relationship with Bucky and be there for him in the way he can no longer be for Steve.

Their staring contest therapy is hysterical.

That said, their reaction to John Walker as the new Captain America was a major over reaction and kinda shitty. I get it. They feel like the only person who should be picking up the mantle of Captain America is one chosen by Steve Rogers or at least similar to him in some way. All John really has going for him is he has a very impressive military record. He's a good soldier, but he's not really the kind of person who Steve would have picked and he's got very little in common with Steve, though there are some things they do have in common that stick out.

John is very much suffering from gov officials making promises they didn't intend to keep. Sam gave up the shield with the promise it would be retired and instead the government chose a new Captain America to wield it. Which isn't a great look for the gov where the Avengers are concerned, but it's not exactly unexpected. Despite what Steve clearly believed, Captain America isn't a personal title for Steve Rogers alone... it's an honorary military title. (The fact that they didn't name a new Captain America while Steve was on the run still surprises me, tbh.) And the military is going to use everything at it's disposal to make itself look good which means passing on the mantle one way or another. Sam would've made good optics if he'd accepted and John makes for good optics for completely different reasons.

John was absolutely the wrong choice to be Captain America - honestly he kinda comes off as being in over his head after being picked for being a white guy who bears a superficial resemblance to Steve and has never been accused of terrorism... unlike Steve... which allowed for rehabilitating the Captain America 'brand' for the military. He probably could have made it with support but he gets none and I know from spoilers that Lemar is going to die, sending John over the edge not unlike how Steve reacted when he thought Bucky was in danger. So, you know... superficial resemblance but not entirely superficial.

Honestly, the next Captain America needed to be better than Steve and I could see Sam having that potential. John really just doesn't have it. But that doesn't make him a bad person - he really does seem to me that he's a good person trying his best and it's unfortunate his best isn't enough in this situation.

Anyway, Zemo and Sharon have shown up and I'm enjoying how these two are playing Sam and Bucky to varying degrees. Seriously boys, get your acts together.

So while I'm enjoying a lot of the character interactions overall... this is very much a case of strawman bad guys. Their goals are ultimately good - putting an end to border fanaticism and making immigration between all countries easier is something that very genuinely needs to happen - but their bad methods are used to pretend that increased, selfish nationalism is the right way to go. Someone has to be Captain America. And anything that 'threatens' the borders of America must automatically be bad, including the idea of a world without borders.

There's a lot of rah-rah-USA in the MCU and I knew that going into this show, but it still really sucks a lot of the enjoyment out of watching this for me. When your antagonists are acting in ways inherently anti-thetical to their own stated goals for the sole purpose of making them more villainous/justifiable to treat badly, it makes them less interesting villains overall and it does feel like that's what's going on with the Flag Smashers. It's one thing when bad guys act counter to their cause for a purpose, but when it's solely for drama...

#kitkatt0430 watches #the falcon and the winter soldier #fandom meta #mcu meta #These guys have got stop leaving Zemo unsupervised

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mlmxreader · 2 years

Text

Was Ich Liebe | Helmut Zemo x gn!reader

summary: when Sam and Bucky ask you and Frank to look after Zemo for a while, you end up feeling something that you never would have expected before.

tws: swearing, smoking, mentions of violence, jealous, possession, drinking

word count: 5433

You and Frank had been living together for years, since before his Punisher years, as he couldn't afford a place on his own, and neither could you; as close friends, family really, it only made sense that the two of you would end up living together somehow. You patched his wounds, you hid him away from everyone who was chasing after him, you kept him a secret when he needed to be; you were his best friend, and at times, it felt a lot like you were his only friend. You enjoyed it, though, being able to spend so much time with him, being able to act like your best friend wasn't also one of the most wanted men on the planet; you were at peace, and whenever Frank snuck in, he felt much the same.

Nobody ever bothered you, nobody came asking for favours, nobody ever disturbed or shattered that peace; Frank made damn sure of that, keeping you and your home together far, far away from his work as the Punisher, the more distance he could make, the better.

It felt redundant to say, but when Frank trudged in with his hand around a guy in a purple mask's fur coat collar, you were more than surprised.

"Frank, what the fuck?"

He shrugged, roughly removing the guy's mask. He didn't miss the way you looked at the stranger. He rolled his eyes. "This here's Zemo."

Zemo went to extend his hand, but Frank slapped it away and glared at him.

"Right," you couldn't take your eyes off of the stranger. "And why's he in our home, exactly?"

Frank sighed, running a hand down his face as he grumbled. "I owe Sam Wilson a favour… he asked if I'd make sure this little shit doesn't go anywhere."

"Oh, great," you muttered. "So now we're in debt to Captain America himself? Well done, Frankie."

"Blame yourself," he growled, shoving the stranger aside. "You were the one that broke his pool table."

"I said I'd pay for it," you pointed out. "Not that I'd babysit a…" you turned to the stranger with a raised brow, "what are you?"

"A Baron," he replied.

You turned back to Frank. "Not that I'd babysit a Baron."

"He's got a rap sheet half a mile long," Frank hissed. "He's lucky he's still breathing."

You shook your head, gesturing for him to leave. "Go make a cup of coffee."

Chuckling, Frank shot you a smile as he dared to move away. "Yessir."

"You bicker like you're siblings," the stranger said.

But you scoffed as you took a seat on the sofa and sighed. "Who are you?"

"Baron Helmut Zemo," he didn't dare to move across the room to shake your hand, not with the Punisher around. "And who are you, gutaussehend?"

"I'm the one that won't rough you up," you laughed softly. "(y/n)."

"A pleasure," he nodded curtly. "Really."

You dared to smile at him. "The feeling's mutual."

Zemo hung his head as he dared to crack a small smile, chewing at the inside of his lip; he was about to say something when Frank came trudging back in, passing you a cup of coffee as he sat beside you.

"Don't listen to a goddamn word he says," Frank rumbled. "I got told he's a great manipulator."

You shrugged your friend off with a shake of your head. "Would you quit complaining?"

"He's responsible for all that bullshit between the Avengers," Frank muttered. "I got every goddamn right to complain… dragging me into their bullshit like this."

"In my defense-"

"Shut it," Frank hissed, glaring at Zemo.

The Winter Soldier had been one thing. Dealing with Sam and Bucky had been one thing. But Frank? Frank really did scare Zemo; word of the Punisher, what he did to people who deserved it, it scared even Zemo. Nobody fucked with the Punisher, and there was a damn good reason for that. Frank wasn't like the others, he wasn't like Sam or Bucky - Frank would kill. From the stories, it sounded like he was happy to do it, too.

"You're scaring him," you said gently.

"Good," Frank scoffed. "I should fucking hope so."

You sighed, shaking your head as you turned to Zemo. "Did he at least grab stuff for you to wear other than that?"

"Yes," Zemo answered with a curt nod.

"Where'd he chuck it?" You set your coffee aside and slapped a hand over Frank's mouth.

"In the car boot," Zemo wanted to smile at the fact that you had so casually covered your friend's mouth, he wanted to laugh when the big bad Punisher dared to lick your palm, making you groan and grumble in disgust.

"You're so fucking disgusting, sometimes," you got up, the sound of Frank's laughter following you as you went and grabbed the car keys. "I'll go get your things, Zemo… don't worry about Frank, he won't bite."

The second the door closed behind you, Frank crossed the room, pinning Zemo to the chair with his hand on his shoulder, his voice low and coarse - the same one he used when talking to the cunts he killed.

"You so much as even fucking look at (y/n), and I'll rip your eyes out," he threatened. "One wrong move, Zemo, that's all it takes and then… one batch, two batch, penny and dime."

Zemo could only nod slowly, he knew what Frank was capable of, everyone did, and he didn't quite fancy being on the receiving end of it. He didn't want to know what Frank would do, from the stories, he knew that the man was capable of great brutality and great graphic gore. He didn't want to find out if they were true.

Frank moved away again, taking his seat on the sofa once more, his jaw clenched as he picked up the television remote and turned it on; it was already playing one of your playlists, this one happened to have a little bit everything - some Tina Turner, some Sabaton, some Trivium, some Slayer, some Metallica, some ABBA. Frank turned the volume up a little, finally relaxing as he leaned back against the soft cushions. Zemo didn't dare to move - not until the door opened and you held up a bag.

"This the one?"

"Yes, thank you," he nodded.

"Come with me," you gestured for him to follow, and he did so with little hesitation. You lead him to the bedrooms. "Now, there's only two - so, uh, would you rather sleep in the same room as the guy who might rip your head off in the middle of the night, or would you rather be woken up by Rammstein at three in the morning?"

"Rammstein sounds… better," he shrugged, entering the room with you. He took a look around and frowned a little; it was nowhere near as bad as the cell in Berlin, but it wasn't exactly the luxury he had known for most of his life, either.

"You can use that cupboard," you pointed over to it. "Unpack your shit, make yourself comfy."

Zemo gently grabbed your wrist when you turned around, pulling you close as he dared to smile, his voice soft and quiet. "Thank you, (y/n)."

You could feel your heartbeat pick up a little, a certain thudding thunder coming to the side of your throat as you looked into those big brown beautiful eyes. "No need to thank me, just… get as comfy as you can."

He dared to let you go, clearing his throat as he turned to his bag and started to take out his things; you sighed as you headed downstairs, finally able to confront Frank.

"You didn't fucking tell me he was fit as fuck, you ass!"

Frank rolled his eyes. "I knew you thought he was your type the second you saw his face."

"Frank, this ain't funny," you growled. "How the fuck are we meant to put him up until Sam and Bucky can grab him, if I'm wanting to fuck him?"

"Easy," Frank shrugged. "Just don't."

You folded your arms across your chest, glaring at him as you clenched your jaw. "Don't you dare hurt him."

"Now," he tutted, raising a brow as he tilted his head a little to the side. "Why would I do that?"

"You said he's got a rap sheet half a mile long," you started, "in your books, he deserves it."

"You ain't wrong," he held up his hands. "But I ain't gonna hurt him. I'm smart enough to know not to piss Captain America off."

"You better be," you warned with a huff. "You really fucking better be."

══════════════════

Frank left that same evening, abandoning you and trusting that you wouldn't do anything stupid, he had work to do, and he knew it would be a while; he had to go two States over and get through a shit tonne of forest, he wasn't going to be less than twelve hours. But he left you in charge of Zemo, hoping that you wouldn't do anything stupid. Really, really hoping.

It was around five minutes after he had left that you had decided to go to bed, with Zemo in the bathroom, you stripped off and yanked a pair of fluffy pyjama bottoms on before crawling into bed; unfortunately for him, Zemo had to have the chair next to the bed instead of an actual mattress. But he had said that it would be fine. You hoped so.

You yanked at the thin blanket, pulling it over you as you rolled onto your side and started to scroll through your phone; you didn't look up when he walked in, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, but then he paused for a moment to look at you. He cleared his throat as he sat down on the chair, pulling a red blanket across his lap as he met your gaze with a soft smile.

"I don't think your friend would like us being so physically close."

"No, but he'll get over it," you chuckled, putting your phone down and smiling back at him. "Y'know, I think there's room enough in this bed for us both… might save your back and your neck a little bit to sleep on an actual mattress."

Zemo bit at the inside of his lip as he let out a shaky breath, not even audible. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," you nodded, moving over to make space for him. "Trust me, that chair ain't fit for sleeping in."

“As long as you’re sure,” he muttered, daring to slip beneath the blanket beside you, careful not to touch you - he wouldn’t dream of such a thing, not unless if you asked him to.

You cleared your throat, getting a little closer until your head was on his chest, and you grabbed the remote for the television, quickly putting on ‘Hostel’ before you dared to relax again.

Zemo wasn’t sure about the film to begin with, if he was honest, as he was never entirely all that keen on films of such a graphic nature, but when he stole a look at you and saw a look in your eyes that could not be mistaken for anything except passion, he started to see it in a different light; he started to respect the film a little more, just because you were so keen on it. It was around halfway through the film when he dared to speak up at last.

“How long is Mister Castle usually gone for?”

“Anywhere from an hour to all night,” you replied quietly, your gaze never leaving the television, “sometimes, he can be gone for days.”

“Does he not worry about you?” Zemo asked with a little bit of genuine concern.

“Sure he does,” you muttered. “But Frank’s known me for a Hell of a long time. He knows I’m not helpless - plus, he keeps his work away.”

He nodded, biting at the inside of his lip again, unable to admit that if he was as close to you as Frank was, he would have been worried sick about so much as stepping out of the house; with a job like Frank’s, it would be more than difficult not to worry about loved ones.

“Besides,” you yawned, stretching and groaning a little. “Uncle Logan is only down the street.”

“Logan?”

“Yeah, Logan,” you nodded. “He was a friend of my family growing up - taught me how to handle myself in a fight. Between him and Frank, there’s really nothing to worry about.”

Zemo had heard that name somewhere before, Sam had mentioned it when talking about a school for gifted youngsters, he was sure that Sam had said there was someone called Logan there - “grumpy old man with can openers between his knuckles,” - but surely it wasn’t the same man; Logan was a very popular name, there was no way it could have been the same man at all.

“But you’re not a-”

“A superhero?” You scoffed, shaking your head. “No. I just know how to fight… and my best friend happens to be one of the most dangerous men to ever exist.”

══════════════════

You weren’t sure when it happened, between the end of ‘Hostel’ and the start of ‘Cabin Fever’, you had fallen asleep somewhere along the lines, your head on Zemo’s chest, one arm across his stomach and the other under his back, your leg thrown over his hip; somewhere along the lines, you had fallen asleep together, but when you woke in the morning, it wasn’t because Frank had done his usual - kicked the end of your bed and asked what you wanted for breakfast - it was because there was an unusual smell coming from the kitchen. It smelled like someone was cooking, but it couldn’t have been; you and Frank rarely had time or money to actually cook meals, and if you ever did, you usually reserved them for special occasions - birthdays, holidays, to celebrate good news - and always reserved it for evening meals.

You were confused, heading downstairs as you rubbed your eyes, immediately going to the fridge first and foremost and pulling out a can of Red Bull; you cracked it open and took a swig before you dared to look at the state of the kitchen.

Zemo, still wearing just his boxers, a tea-towel thrown over his shoulder, turned to you with a smile. “Good morning. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought I would make breakfast - as thanks for last night.”

You scratched the back of your neck, furrowing your brows as you tilted your head to the side, slowly nodding. “We don’t usually cook ‘round here, y’know.”

“I can tell,” he said. “Go sit down, it won’t be long.”

“Long enough for me to have a quick smoke?”

“I suppose.”

══════════════════

It went on like that for a while, at least a fair few weeks; you and Zemo would sleep in your bed all cuddled up to one another at night, in the morning he would make breakfast for you and sometimes Frank - when he was around - and then make another meal for dinner just for you and him and a final one for tea - which usually Frank also attended. During the day, you would show Zemo your favourite films and let him show you some of his, you would listen to music together and occasionally dance around, you would talk at length; every now and then, you would even ask Zemo for his help in deciding what to wear for the day, something he was all too happy to help with. He didn’t think it was worth telling you, but he had started to pay your rent for you; when you were busy with something and had your back turned, he would sneak off and pay the landlord - he knew how much living with Frank meant to you, he knew how desperate you both were, and he wanted to at least give his own back in exchange for Frank not gouging his eyes out every time he looked at you. He paid about a year’s worth of rent by the end of the month.

You were getting closer, though, starting to cuddle up on the sofa together whilst watching films, getting so close that you could feel his breath on your features when he pulled you in close whilst dancing; pressing your forehead against his back when he was chopping something up whilst preparing dinner, your arms around his waist; sitting on the counter and talking to him about anything and everything while he was putting a meal together; you stopped eating at opposite ends of the table, preferring to sit right next to one another instead, your knee pressed against his as he leaned into you a little more.

You were getting closer by the day, and you were starting to realise - you didn’t want Zemo to leave. You wanted him to stay, you wanted to know what his kiss tasted like and what his hands would feel like holding yours, you wanted to know what it would be like to go on actual dates with him, you wanted to know what it would be like to belong to him. You knew, though, that such a thing could never happen; if you had been living alone, then it would have been possible, but Frank was not keen on Zemo - even if he did quietly admit to you that he did enjoy the meals that Zemo cooked for you both. So, you went to the one person you knew you could talk to about it: Uncle Logan.

══════════════════

Logan came over on a day where Zemo was in the living room reading, and Frank was off getting the weekly shop; he went down to the bottom of the garden with you, rolled two cigarettes, and gave one to you before lighting his own.

“Alright, what have you done now?”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you took a drag from your cigarette. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Yet,” Logan pointed out, noticing the way you were a little on-edge. “What is it?”

“It’s Zemo,” you muttered, licking your lips and taking a deep breath as you looked at him. “I think… shit, Logan, I think I’ve fallen for him.”

He dared to laugh a little, running a hand through his hair as he nodded. “Look, kid, you want my advice? Just be honest.”

“This coming from the guy who told Magneto and Professor X to fuck themselves,” you hummed. “Honesty isn’t the issue here.”

“Then what is?”

“Frank,” you muttered, sighing heavily. “He fucking hates Zemo and-”

“You and Frank have been friends since you were babies,” Logan huffed. “He might talk and act tough, but you know he’s a softie.”

You raised a brow as you looked him in the eyes, a smile coming to your lips. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Logan rolled his eyes at you as he scoffed. “I helped raise you, (y/n). I know how close you and Frank are, but if you like this guy, your best bet is just to be honest about it, alright?”

“Alright,” you nodded. “Thanks, Uncle Logan.”

“Does he know?” He asked. “I mean, this guy hates super-soldiers, right?”

“Right… I didn’t say anything about you, though,” you reassured. “You’re not a super-soldier, anyway. The only thing them cunts altered was your bones.”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna piss of the guy who managed to fuck over the Avengers.”

“Didn’t you say that they were the most stupid, idiotic, selfish bastards to exist?”

“Yeah, and I stand by that.”

“I think you should be worried more about him becoming your new best friend, if that’s the case.”

══════════════════

When Logan left, you knew that there was only one thing you had to do, you knew what you had to do and how to do it, but when you saw Zemo in the living room, his legs spread as he read one of your books - it looked a lot like American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis - you weren’t sure if you could go through with it; doubt started to bubble up in your stomach, making it churn as your throat began to feel dry and coarse, you caught your bottom lip between your teeth as you let out a shaky breath, swallowing thickly. Logan told you to just be honest. You dared to move closer, and when Zemo lifted his arms up so that you could sit on his lap, you did so with a quiet eagerness, letting him put an arm around your back whilst leaning it on the sofa’s arm, holding the book in his free hand as he continued to read for a moment; it didn’t exactly take him long to realise that something was wrong.

“What is it?”

“Zemo, what if…” you swallowed thickly, able to feel your heart thud against your chest. “What if I told you I… felt things for you?”

“I would tell you that if your feelings are romantic, then they’re reciprocated,” he admitted with a soft chuckle. “Why?”

“They’re… they’re reciprocated?” You asked quietly, biting at the inside of your top lip.

“Well, yeah,” he nodded. “Over the short time we’ve known each other, (Y/n), I have to admit - I’m very fond of you.”

“So, if I uh, if I asked you out…” you took in another deep breath. “You would say yes?”

“I would,” he nodded again. “Would you flip the page for me, please, mein Bärchen?”

You did as he asked, leaning into him a little more so that your shoulder was pressed into him, letting him rest his chin on top of your head as he hummed softly; you didn’t need a big romantic gesture to know that it was official now, you didn’t need some big dramatic gesture or some long and heated kiss to know. All you needed was the way he held you so close, the way he gently asked for you to turn the page of the book he was borrowing from you.

Now you just had to figure out how to tell Frank.

══════════════════

You didn’t want to tell him right away, as you knew that he would need time and space to process everything, which was why you waited until he announced that he was going away for a while; on the trail of someone who had done things that even Frank wouldn’t mention, but because they were halfway across the goddamn country and then some, Frank had told you that he would be gone for at least a week or two - depending on how slippery and sly the asshole was. It was damn near perfect, until Sam came wandering in while Frank was getting ready to leave.

Frank was out back sorting out what he would need for his little trip, which was where Sam went first and foremost, tapping the Punisher on the shoulder and clearing his throat.

“How’s it going?” Sam asked, letting himself take one of Frank’s beers and cracking it open. He took a quick swig.

Frank sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against the workbench and folded his arms across his chest, shrugging. “It ain’t bad, but…”

“But?”

“(y/n) and Zemo are friends now,” Frank chuckled, shaking his head. “They’re actually friends. He’s even managed to befriend Logan.”

“Logan?” Sam let out a whistle as he shook his head. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Frank nodded. “It ain’t all that bad, though. I mean, he cooks, and he’s pretty damn good at it, too. He’s been behaving himself, too, thankfully.”

“He better be,” Sam huffed. “Do you need any help with anything? Least I could do for you agreeing to babysit.”

Frank shook his head, smiling at Sam for a moment. “We’re good - besides, we owed you for the pool table.”

Laughing softly, Sam shook his head. “Don’t worry about it… seriously, though, if you need anything, you know where I am.”

“I know, thank you,” Frank nodded, sighing as he made a move to pack up a few more boxes of ammunition. “Y’know, I always did prefer you over the other guy. I’m glad it was you that picked up the shield.”

“Thank you,” Sam smiled back, clapping Frank on the shoulder. “Where are they?”

“Front room,” Frank shrugged. “C’mon, I need something to eat.”

Following Frank inside, Sam couldn’t help but to let out a noise when he looked into the living room; on the sofa, you and Zemo were cuddled up, your lips pressed to his neck and your arm slung over him, the other one beneath your head to give you a little comfort, your leg over his waist as he held onto you tightly. Sam almost couldn’t believe it, but when Frank came to see, he simply shrugged.

“They do it all the time,” he explained, “it’s normal.”

“Normal?” Sam grumbled. “Frank, they’re cuddling.”

“Yeah, for those two, it’s normal,” Frank replied, “shit, it’s nothing me and (y/n) don’t do.”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck as he shook his head, taking a step into the living room and knocking gently on the doorframe; within an instant, you and Zemo perked up, lazily waving at him.

“Ah, Sam,” Zemo smiled. “I wondered when you would come to visit.”

“I’ve seen enough,” Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Frank, do you need help getting everything loaded up?”

“Yeah, I could use a hand,” Frank agreed with a shrug. “Car’s out front.”

“Let’s go,” Sam agreed. “You can drop me off on the way, right?”

“Right.”

You waited for the two to leave before you turned to Zemo, biting your lip as you tried not to laugh. “I don’t think they’re happy, y’know.”

“I don’t think they are,” he agreed with a shake of his head, but then he turned to you, and ever so gently, pressed a kiss to your lips. “But at least we’ll be alone for a while, won’t we?”

══════════════════

The first couple of days, everything was fine between you and Zemo; you did everything together as a romantic couple, no longer feeling the need to ever hide anything - not your relationship, not your care for each other. It got to the point where one night, while you were singing and dancing around in the kitchen, probably keeping the entire neighbourhood awake, you stopped - you pulled out your phone, encouraging Zemo to take a picture with you; he was quite eager to do it, even taking a few of him kissing you, his hand on your jaw to keep you close while he took the phone in his other hand and used it to snap the pictures. You debated posting it for a little while, too distracted by the way he held you and how he kissed you, up until his phone rang.

“It’s Frank,” he muttered, handing the phone to you and running a hand through his hair. “Should I answer it?”

“I’ll do it,” you shrugged, clicking the answer button and putting the phone on speaker, leaving it on the closest counter. “Frank, why aren’t you calling my phone?”

“Zemo’s number was at the top,” came the crackly and quiet reply, “how are you doing? Is he behaving?”

Zemo stood beside you, gently coaxing you closer, his hands on the waistband of your jeans as he kept you close, your back against his chest; he tilted his head a little to the side, starting to kiss at your neck gently, forcing you to stifle a laugh and to slap at his wrist.

“Yeah, he’s behaving,” you replied, “we had Logan swing by the other day - didn’t he send you the picture?”

“The one of you two sound asleep out back? Yeah, I saw it.”

"See?" You chuckled, biting down on your bottom lip when Zemo started to gently bite and suck at your neck. "He's behaving."

Zemo grabbed your phone when you nodded at him to let him know he could, going onto your social media and pulling up the picture of you and him; he dared to post it with the caption was ich liebe.

"Yeah, alright," Frank hummed. "Look, I ain't sure when I'll be home."

"What do you mean?" Your voice cracked a little with worry.

"This one's tough," he explained, "slips away every time we come close… it's gonna take a while to catch 'em."

"Oh," you sighed, relief flooding your voice. "So it's not because you're hurt?"

"Aside from a few stinging nettles, I'm fine," he laughed softly. But then there was a vibration sound, and he growled lowly.

"What?" You asked.

"Logan just texted me," he explained, "it's from your social."

"Yeah?" You mused, turning around and letting Zemo pin you against the counter, his hands bracing it tightly as he pressed up against you, welcoming the feeling of one hand in his hair, the other on his jaw. "What'd he say?"

"There's a fucking picture of you," Frank started, "you and Zemo. What the fuck? Are you two-"

"Come on, mein Bärchen, hurry up," Zemo growled, just loud enough for the phone's speakers to pick it up. "I want to kiss you again."

Frank's voice got louder as he repeated the question, "hey, what the fuck?"

Your eyes went wide as you kept your eyes on Zemo, silence following for a minute before you cleared your throat and dared to answer, "don't be mad."

"(y/n), what the fuck?" Frank almost shouted. "You're dating him?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, hanging your head and pressing it against Zemo, welcoming the feeling of his arms around you tightly. "Yeah, we've… we've been doing it for a while…"

"Jesus Christ!" Frank spat. "Y'know what? We'll talk about this when we get back… Jesus Christ…"

══════════════════

It was painful, waiting for Frank to get back home, but the days and nights that you spent with Zemo more than made up for it; the nights cuddled up watching films, the days sat with him as he read, the afternoons lounging in the garden together. It more than made up for the increasing anxiety over how Frank would react when he got home; but when he did, he was… at peace with it. He stopped being so intimidating and aggressive towards Zemo, he started to laugh and joke with him, he started to open up a little; to say the least, you were so glad of that - your best friend and your boyfriend finally getting along. It was all too good to be true.

And when you, Zemo and Frank met up with Matt Murdock at a local pub, suddenly reality hit.

Matt was always flirtatious with you, he always turned on the charm, and he didn't seem to realise that you and Zemo were actually a couple.

"You smell really good tonight, (y/n)," Matt smiled. "Did you switch from your usual stuff?"

"I did, yeah," you confirmed. "You noticed?"

"I always notice when it comes to you," he replied, chuckling softly. "I bet you look really good, too."

"Excuse me," Zemo cleared his throat as he leaned his forearms on the table and hunched over a little. "I don't like it when you flirt with my partner, Mister Murdock."

Matt tilted his head to the side, the pub lights shining on his red glasses. "Sorry? Who are you?"

"Baron Helmut Zemo," he growled, shaking his head. "(y/n)'s boyfriend."

Matt nodded slowly, daring to laugh a little. "My bad. I didn't realise."

"C'mon, it's just a bit of fun," you shrugged. "Right, Matt?"

"Yeah," he leaned back. "It's just fun."

But Zemo didn't like that, and by the time that you were walking home, leaving Frank and Matt to talk business, he was getting rather possessive; you welcomed it when he pulled you into an alleyway, pinning you between cold bricks and his body, his hands either side of your face as he kissed you harshly, enough to make you moan against him, burying a hand in his hair as the other gripped the front of his shirt to try and pull him closer.

"You're mine," Zemo growled against your lips. "Aren't you?"

"All yours," you panted out, desperate and needy for him; his touch, his kiss, anything. "Only yours, Zemo."

"Good," he praised quietly. "Say it again for me, please?"

"I'm all yours and only yours," you said softly, pressing your forehead against his. "I love you."

"I love you, too, mein Bärchen," he whispered, backing off enough to let you crush yourself against his side. "Shall we go home?"

"Yes."

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valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn · 2 years

Note

I imagine Bruce Wayne as someone who donates money and helps charities that give to underfunded schools while Tony Stark will give one single gifted kid scholarship. Bruce wants to make whatever change he can to make things better for as many people as possible. Tony Stark while not without good intentions views helping people more like a project that he can succeed at

That scene in CW after the MIT speech is proof of that:

Miriam: "That was nice, what you did for those young people" Stark: "Ah, they deserve it. Plus, it helps ease my conscience" Miriam: "They say there's a correlation between generosity and guilt"

Bruce's childhood was one of privilege but he had been raised by his father to care about those who had less than them, to spend part of their wealth to make life easier for them, that was a constant in his life ever since he was a kid, his father genuinely cared for the good of others and they wanted to help Gotham.

Stark's case is completely different, he does it to ease his conscience, it's no coincidence this comes after Sokovia - but of course he's giving money to Americans. Did he ever return to Sokovia? Did he ever spend any money to rebuild the country? If we're taking Zemo's words as truth he didn't.

Not to mention Damage Control and him taking the jobs from the people in NYC (I'm not going to say Vulture was justified in what he did but boy do I understand him).

Plus, you know, once Bruce became the Batman he was fighting street crime. If anything he's more similar to Peter Parker than Stark (he even has that 'no killing' rule that I think they changed for BvS but that movie was so bad that I guess we can ignore it lol)

#anti tony stark

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sholiofic · 2 years

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It’s me, the pigeon that lives under your floorboards. Sequel to the “trapped in a motel blizzard over Christmas” where the trio do make it for a holiday and realise how much Zemo has grown to care for them specifically, from watching the baron who’s nonchalant about life or death missions, solitary confinement, a little mass murder, etc. going absolutely laser-focused on being a perfect houseguest and staying in the background because he doesn’t want to disturb their family happiness.

For six of the ten hours (or so) since they arrived at Sarah's for Thanksgiving, Zemo had been an absolutely impeccable houseguest, helping to chop vegetables, fetching and carrying, staying out of the way, and then politely eating light portions of the family meal that was spread out all over the big oak table that used to be Nan Jolene's, taking a tiny portion of each item. He had helped clean up, helped wrap up leftovers and politely washed dishes that he handed to Sarah to load into the dishwasher. He had been absolutely nothing except polite, quiet, and helpful.

Then Sarah went up for a nap, the boys settled in to play video games with Bucky and Sam—and Zemo disappeared, more or less.

Sam was not about to lose track of the felon he had (against all reason or logic) brought to Thanksgiving at his sister's, so he was aware that Zemo was out on the back porch, drinking.

For four hours.

Sam finally slipped off, leaving Bucky and the kids yelling at each other while playing Call of Duty, and went quietly out the back door into the warm dusk.

Zemo made a slight, abrupt move, then relaxed. Sam sat down beside him.

"Enough to share?" Sam asked quietly.

Zemo hesitated and then handed over the bottle. Sam took a sip and made a face.

"You're drinking this straight? God, have some self-respect. Or respect for your liver if nothing else."

"I found it in the kitchen on a high shelf." After a moment, Zemo said, "I'll replace it."

"You—no, you're a guest, you know that?"

"You've been very kind," Zemo said. "I know that you didn't have anything else to do with me. This is, from what I have picked up, a holiday for family, and ..."

"No, it's a holiday for feeding anybody who shows up, including your dumb ass," Sam said. "It's a stupid holiday based on a stupid tradition that a lot of people have entirely reasonable problems with, but see, what we've gone and done with that, with that whole entire mess, is turned it into a reason to feed people and welcome them and bring them in out of the cold, whether or not they deserve it. You sitting out here in the dark is the kind of insult to my family's cultural hospitality that can start a feud that'll go down for three generations."

Zemo looked at him.

"If you don't believe me," Sam said, "ask Sarah sometime about Titi Jeanne's pie war with Titi Margaret."

This actually wrung some kind of smile out of Zemo, wistful and oddly young. "I think the grandmothers back home would relate," he said quietly, and damn, he must be drunk if he was talking that casually of Sokovia.

"Look," Sam said quietly. "If you'd rather be alone, that's fine. But if you want to come in, the boys are going to bed soon, and Buck and I were just going to stay up and watch a movie. You can pick. If Bucky doesn't like that, I'll sit on him, because he made us all watch that cowboy movie marathon at that shitty motel last week and I think we owe him for that." Zemo didn't respond, and Sam said, "And if you still want to get drunk, that's fine; we're not going anywhere tomorrow. I think I can find you something better to get trashed on than white lightning from the back of Sarah's top cabinet—and how did you even find that, anyway?"

"Instinct," Zemo said. He got up, weary but graceful. "All right, I will accept your invitation."

"We get veto power over the movie," Sam said, suddenly wary of what he'd just agreed to.

This actually got Zemo to laugh a little. Sam opened the screen door, and Zemo went in ahead of him.

#tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #sam wilson #helmut zemo

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lorna-d-m · 2 years

Note

for the innuendo prompts i would absolutely love to see what x marks the spot could be in reference to 👀👀 -rachreads :)

(also the Bloody Baron was great! literally dropped everything once i got the notif for chapter 11 <3)

X Marks the Spot

Word Count: 1,165

Rating: Explicit

Warning: marking, oral sex (m receiving)

Author's Note: Aww thank you so much babe! 💖 I thought it would be fun to see a more submissive side of Zemo. He's usually the more dominant figure in their relationship, but sometimes the tides need to turn ;) There are still available prompts to request! (link here)

Helmut called Mary his little star, but she thought he was the one more deserving of the nickname. The freckles, moles, and scars dotting his skin were like stars, and they made constellations. Mary trailed her fingers along them in the flickering candlelight. Helmut’s skin twitched, responsive to her touch, and relaxed as she continued. As her touch wandered to his side, tracing the prominent scar there, Helmut rolled onto his back.

His dark eyes watched her face as she ran her fingers over him. Mary smiled with a determined look in her eye that excited him. Any time she took the initiative in touching or admiring him, Helmut indulged her. Slowly and mischievously, her hands moved down his torso. Her fingertips were soft over his marks and scars, respecting the pain behind each one, but she tugged on his scruffy patches of hair.

As Helmut parted his lips to tease her, Mary pressed her lips to his neck. She hooked her leg over his side and settled herself on top of him without ceasing her kiss. Mary stuck to him like a barnacle to the side of the ship. Helmut squeezed her waist and pulled her impossibly closer. He ground against her, and she reciprocated in kind.

“There,” Mary gently brushed the back of her fingers over her handiwork. Already, his skin was mottled. “A good beginning.”

“Beginning?” Helmut adoringly ran his hands up and down her back. He loved to feel every inch of his wife. “What are you planning, Sternchen?”

Mary smirked, “Wait and see. You must trust me.” She brushed an errant curl of his aside, only for it to fall across his forehead again. Mary loved that curl.

“I trust you. That’s the problem.” Helmut chuckled and rested his hands on her hips.

Mary moved back and resettled herself over him. She kissed down his chest and stomach, nipping every so often to surprise him. Helmut showed his appreciation and amusement in hums and grunts. Mary felt his enthusiasm over his loose linen sleep pants, and Helmut writhed under her touch. He willed her to do more. She pulled on the laces and the waistline, so he raised his hips to help her.

“Eager, aren’t you?” Three little words Helmut frequently said to her, and Mary relished turning the tide on him. She enjoyed how readily Helmut surrendered to her. He trusted her completely as she trusted him.

“For you, my little star? Always.” Helmut propped himself up on his elbows to kiss her. She shocked him by biting his lip as she pulled away, drawing Helmut ever closer.

Mary knew her experience was limited by her upbringing, so she mimicked Helmut when she took the helm. Light, trailing touches, and teasing kisses. She brushed her fingers past his twitching cock and pressed her lips to the strong muscle of his thigh. His leg flexed and relaxed as Mary wrapped her fingers around his leg. Helmut wriggled and whimpered, and Mary had yet to touch his leaking cock. He thought he might die when she finally did.

“Better.” Helmut noticed how red and plumped her lips were when she spoke. He wanted to kiss her and feel them against his own. “I do believe the color suits you well.”

He gazed at her through fluttered eyelashes. Mary kept her hand on his thigh, tantalizingly close to his cock. “Is that your intention then? To leave your mark on me?”

“Would you mind terribly?” She arched an eyebrow. “Are you afraid the one on your neck will expose you to your crew?”

“No.” Helmut confidently let the sound roll off his tongue. “I am not ashamed for them to see that I am yours, and you are mine.” Helmut was proud to have Mary at his side, and he wanted her to know. Too many people in her life did not value her as they should have, and Helmut was not one of them.

Mary blushed and took him in her hand. He unabashedly groaned when Mary touched him, and he resisted the urge to throw his head back against the pillow. Helmut wanted to watch her as she licked a stripe on the underside of his cock, and he shivered when she twisted her tongue over his slit. Mary spat in hand, and she spread her saliva and his slick pre-come along his shaft. Helmut bucked to follow the movement of her hand.

“Aren’t you sweet, my seductive little siren?” He gasped when she cupped his balls. “You always know how to surprise me.”

Mary’s cheeks flushed a deeper crimson at his praise. Emboldened, she took him into her mouth. Still a novice, Mary did not try to fit all of Helmut. He never pressured her to do so, knowing it was an acquired skill, and he encouraged her to take her time. Mary wrapped her hand around what she couldn’t fit.

Helmut twisted her hair around his fingers, and he gently guided her with his hand. In Mary’s new position, Helmut could move, thrusting into her mouth and hand. He muttered quick and passionate pleas in English and his native tongue, too spellbound by Mary’s tongue to think straight.

Mary felt him twitch hard in her mouth. Tears pricked at her eyes, and saliva dribbled down her chin, but she persisted. Helmut’s fingers tightened in her hair, a warning before he found his words, and Mary noised her consent. He chanted Mary’s name like a sinner praying for repentance as he came, hitching himself further in her mouth.

Helmut’s warm, dark eyes glazed over in reverence when he watched her swallow. Mary smiled with pride, and some of Helmut’s spend dripped from her lips. She licked it away with her little pink tongue like a cat that got the cream. Helmut pulled her in for another kiss, and he tasted himself on her lips.

He pressed his forehead to hers as his breathing settled. Helmut’s heart beat rapidly in his chest, and Mary rested her hand over it. “You’ve certainly left your mark on me,” he quipped as he fixed his pants.

“That was my plan all along.” Mary lay down beside him, but she kept her hand over his heart. Feeling the steady, familiar beat calmed her more than a lullaby.

Helmut pressed another kiss to her temple and brushed aside her hair. “I suppose I ought to wear a low-collared shirt so everyone can see your mark.” He knew it would be a dark purple by morning, his favorite color.

“Of course,” Mary giggled, “so long as the other stays hidden.” She entwined her leg with his, her usual sleeping position.

“They don’t need to see all of me to know I belong utterly to you.” Helmut grew comfortable alongside her. He would reciprocate in the morning, waking her with ardent kisses and caresses. Perhaps he would leave an identical mark on her neck.

“No,” she agreed, “they only need to know that x marks the spot.”

tag list: @scuttle-buttle @fictionlandslanddreams @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @hardlyinteresting @sapphiredreamer26 @aedeluca @alycu1 @linkpk88 @rachreads @fandom-princess-forevermore @alindeluce @f1yogurt @groovyponypatrollamp

#daniel brühl smut #daniel brühl fic #daniel brühl fanfiction #daniel brühl fanfic #helmut zemo fanfic #zemo smut #zemo fanfiction #baron zemo fanfic #helmut zemo fanfiction #baron zemo fanfiction #zemo fanfic #sub!daniel brühl #sub!zemo

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suzieloveships · 2 years

Text

So MCU thunderbolts are two men who done some seriously bad shits but they did one good thing in the end so I guess they are redeem, two women that deserve so much better, a guy who spent the whole show trying to redeem himself only for creators to call him the name he wanted to get rid of, marvel biggest adaptation flop since X-Men origins, and Val, about whom I don't have a opinion yet. Zemo is nowhere to be seen. Bitches are already started shipping Yelena and Bucky. I hate it here, if anybody needs me I'm in my room rewatching James Gunn's Suicide Squad

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 2 years

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A Stranger in My Own Home | Vampire!Wanda Maximoff x F!Reader

Prompt: Purple

Words: 1885

Fandom: Marvel (MCU)

A/N: Took me long enough to get this out. Wanted to reveal a bit of backstory for Wanda while having an almost like a filler episode to show where they are at mentally before they start on their mission. Lots of existential talk. Continuation of [Stranger in Camo]

Summary: After the decision to step out of the shadows and take action against the inhumane lab experiments around the world, you, Wanda, and Zemo look back at what had led all of you to this point.

“To think that this place was here this whole time,” Zemo said in wonder, eyes taking in the castle before him. He turned in his seat, seeing the hedges knit back together, closing off any access from the outside world.

Two servants walked up, opening the door for you and Wanda. A woman stepped forward, handing you an iPad with any information she managed to find from the moment Wanda had called her to your arrival.

“Everything is ready for our guest,” she said.

You nodded, locking the screen as you turned to her. “‘Thank you, Ariadne.”

She smiled, giving you a polite nod before making her way back inside. Her smile was strained, you could just tell. Not just because she’d worked for you for a good fifteen years now, but also, from the tension in her shoulders, the wringing of her fingers, and her eyes not quite matching her lips. You would have to remember to go talk to her in private. There were currently other matters to focus on.

“We will send someone for your things later. That is if your information checks out,” Wanda told Zemo, leading him through the imposing double doors of the estate.

“I’m sure you would have had the means to investigate it years ago. Why didn’t you?” he asked, stopping briefly to take in the foyer.

You and Wanda did many remodelings throughout the years, including the purple carpet the ran through the foyer and up the grand staircase, updating with the times while keeping its original charm. Of course, in the place of your long deceased husband were you and Wanda, painted years after she had turned you. Zemo stepped closer to the painting, trying to find any indication of what year it was from.

“Like I’ve told you, we don’t normally interfere in the affairs of humans,” she said, standing next to him with her arms crossed.

“And you’re okay with that? Surely, that makes you no better than the Avengers,” he countered, failing to hide the bitterness laced in his voice.

“You know how humans are when there is something strange and more powerful than them. They’ll fear it, revere it, blame everything on it, then want to control it before destroying it. Right now, I get the sense that the Avengers are in various stages of those things, with you wanting to destroy it.”

Zemo could not deny it, nodding solemnly. “An empire toppled by its enemies can rebuild and rise again, but one which crumbles from within… that’s dead. Forever.”

Wanda hummed. “But they will find a way to come back, just not in the same way,” she said, “It depends on whether they’ve learned from their past. Trust me, I’ve seen it.”

She had traveled the Earth long before she had met you and seen kingdoms and civilizations that changed exponentially or no longer exist. There’s a cycle that is pliable to the will of each generation. Their choices, big or small, could build or tear them down.

So, she understood where he was coming from. The government of his own country failed their people long ago and the very ones that were hailed heroes to them left the wreckage without sending aid to the ones who had suffered. A whole city had literally fallen and they did nothing to even acknowledge the people there.

Zemo was only one man, but he was determined to bring down Earth’s mightiest heroes, because among those people that had fallen… was his family. To him, what was the point of having all this power and authority if you won’t use it to help those who you’ve sworn to protect? Those types of people did not deserve all that power. No one does.

“Come,” Wanda said, making her way towards the staircase, “I’ll show you to your room.”

Wanda found you in the drawing room, the same one where she had sat down in front of the fire that fateful night and turned you into a being like her. You were lounging on one of the plush couches with a wine glass of sweet warm crimson liquid. You took a sip of it and sighed.

“And what’s gotten you stressed, my love?” Wanda asked, sitting on the floor next to you.

“I spoke to Ariadne not too long ago. Her family had been stuck in the city when it fell. She needs time off to get everything sorted and I offered her any help that I could…”

“And?”

It wasn’t as if she was being dismissive of it. If anything, she knew all too well the grief that Ariadne was currently going through and all the stress that came with dealing with the aftermath. Wanda also knew that you had always cared for each and every person that had worked for you, treating them like family. Your empathy could consume you for months, maybe even years. Yet, there was something more on your mind besides the passing of Ariadne’s family.

“I just wish I could do more.”

Wanda sighed, grabbing your hands and enveloping them in hers. They no longer feel icy now that your body temperatures were the same, but they didn’t get any warmer, either.

“We can’t save everyone.”

“I know.”

“But we’re trying to save them now, if what that baron says is true.”

You hummed, leaning down to kiss her knuckles. She gave you a small smile, something familiar flickering through her eyes. There were times where you’d see regret or sadness on her face when she thought you weren’t looking. You had approached her once about it and she confessed that sometimes she wondered if it was the right decision to turn you, making you watch the world rise and fall and age around you while you remained the same, depriving you of the simple human pleasures and sentiments.

The first few years took getting used to, now that you had infinite time and infinite possibilities of what your life could be without there being a deadline. You came to the conclusion that you would not have changed a thing that night. Yes, it was sad to see the people in your home grow older, to see the distant family members that were younger than you having their own families and having a legacy through their children and their grandchildren and growing old with their partners. Only a few of your family remaining knew of what you were. An old family secret passed down through generations. Every family must have had at least one of those.

It would have been a much different experience if she had turned you and left. Living in this world alone forever sounded like torture. But, she stayed. Eventually, the two of you became more than friends, more than a passing curious fancy. You did not know what love, unconditional love, truly was until you met her, and you got to spend an eternity reveling in it.

You tried to imagine what would have been like if she left without turning you. What would you have done? Remarry to keep the estate afloat and keep everyone clothed and fed? Would you be able to salvage it on your own even after the war?

“What changed your mind?” you asked her.

She raised an eyebrow and hummed in question.

“About helping people. Hunting down those labs that were experimenting on people like they did to that boy and his sister.”

“I’ve always wanted to. I did…,” she said, standing up. You made space for her on the couch, letting her sit down before resting your head on her lap. “No matter what age it was, there will always be humans wanting to be gods or deciding to sacrifice others to gain favor of gods. I was a young vampire then, but I already grew sick of it. Lost sight of why I was angry and who I was angry at… I slaughtered an entire village. Villages, in fact.”

She had mentioned about those early days after she had been turned. It was something that she had confessed after you both wanted to make this relationship serious, that she had done horrible things to innocent people.

“You’ve changed since then,” you said firmly, “You have more control. You’re wiser. You won’t lose control like you did all those years ago.”

“How do you know? I had carelessly walked out to confront the boy that looked so much like my brother and almost interfered with their military. How do you know that I won’t just snap after holding myself back for so long?”

You lifted a hand and cupped the side of her head, making her look at you. “Because you’re not alone anymore. I’m here. I’ll always be here, no matter what. Forever and ever until the sun ceased to exist.”

Wanda shook her head with a watery smile at your sappiness, placing her hand over yours. “Until every star fades away.”

Zemo slipped away from the door, overcome with emotions that he had been bottling up up to this point. He understood that he was grieving, but the weight of it had not crashed into him until now. He ducked into another room, not trusting his shaking legs to carry him up the grand stairs to his room. His breath grew heavier with each step towards the nearest chair before he collapsed, tears streaking down his face as he struggled to get the family picture that he had tucked away in his jacket with shaky hands.

There was a jagged hole where his heart’s supposed to be, not so different from the crater that had been left when the city had risen in the sky. He had spoken to them yesterday - was it really just yesterday? - reassuring them that the countryside with his father would be safe and far from chaos in the city. Now, they’re gone. They’re actually gone. All he had left was the remnants of the house in the countryside, this photograph, and the voicemail from his wife. He had a few safehouses here and there, but they weren’t home.

At first, he had felt it unfair for vampires to have the ability to live forever, to have enhancements in their physiology to make them an apex predator, to be nearly invincible. But, sitting here now in a large estate surrounded with the history of Sokovia that dated back possibly centuries, breathing in deeply the musty smell of the library to calm his still beating heart, it did not seem all that glamorous as the stories say.

How was he supposed to endure the torture of being the one left to continue breathing in the dusty air, walking through dirt and cracked asphalt, feeling every ache in his muscles and bones, and witnessing the miracles and atrocities of the world within his human years? To even think of enjoying a moment of life when they cannot feel the sun on their skin or fill the air with joyous laughter made Zemo feel bitter and filled with self-hatred.

You and Wanda had lost so much even before either of you turned immortal. Still, you had each other. A constant in an ever changing world. Zemo was now alone, untethered in a raging storm, while the world moved on to the next big disaster.

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