#helmut zemo x oc

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Soft Target - Ch. 1

Not technically Zemo x reader, but so close they could kiss.

Thank you all for your interest in the teaser! Here we go! For real this time!

My muse is an asshole - interaction (likes, comments, reblogs, etc.) helps keep the Imposter Syndrome in its hole.

Summary: Their friendship failed before it ever got off the ground, but Sam still turns to her when they need a lead. When things go sideways, she shares more than is safe with a very, very dangerous man. 

Chapter warnings: Language, violence, implied intent to assault (not by Zemo), Bucky being a damsel in distress

What was she doing?

She smelled blood – oozing through Bucky’s bandage in the backseat. She tasted it, too – leaking from her ravaged lower lip. Over the three-hour drive, she’d chewed it to pieces, peeling the flesh away in ribbons as she guessed and second guessed until her stomach warped and twisted like a separate animal, ready to pop out Alien-style and run for the hills.

There was no time to think and no room for error. They needed safe haven and she could give it to them, but if anything went wrong, it would cost her everything. She wasn’t willing to pay that. Not for their lives. Not even for her own. The two men in the backseat didn’t bother her. For all the grief between them, neither Sam nor Bucky would ever use this against her. They respected boundaries and operated under moral guidelines. The third man… not so much. She didn’t know him. Didn’t trust him. So, what was she doing?

She speared Zemo with a glare from the corner of her eye. He looked back innocently, face cool and still as a reflection pool, ready to echo and absorb every barb and compliment. Keep it. Weaponize it when the old words and feelings would deal the greatest damage. She’d seen how elegantly he picked at Sam and Bucky. What would he do with the leverage they hurtled towards?

She couldn’t do it.

Punching the emergency flashers and tapping the brakes, she pulled onto the shoulder, only giving the startled grumbles and exclamations from America’s heroes half an ear.

“What’s happening?”

“Is something wrong?”

Her hands clenched around the wheel. A deep breath in, eyes on the horizon – not on any of the men in the car and the drama they inflicted on an otherwise peaceful week. The breath left, slow and steady. Another in. Another out.

Sam, at least, seemed to have caught on to the situation and dealt with Bucky’s concerns. “Give her a minute. Everything’s fine.” He stared at her through the rearview mirror until her eyes shifted to meet his in the glass. “Everything’s fine.”

Everything was not, in fact, fine. Not at all. But she knew what he meant. And she nodded to thank him and assuage his own anxieties as she hunted through her thoughts for a solution. She needed… action? Proof? She needed to be sure. Beyond all doubt.

“I can drive if you need a moment to breathe,” the third man – Zemo – volunteered.

A last, deep breath.

“Out of the car.”

His brow furrowed in deep confusion. “I do not understand.”

Sam piped up from the back. “Triss, we can’t just –”

“Just Zemo,” she clarified.

“Have I somehow offended you?” He sounded incredulous, annoyed, but very well-mannered about it.

Rolling her eyes, she unclipped her seatbelt and popped open her door. “I just need a word. We’ll be right back, Sam.”

She checked for passing traffic before clambering out. The lonely stretch of state highway offered nothing but a single semi-truck, and she had plenty of time to close her door and move to the front of the car before it rushed by. Her hair flew around her eyes in streaks of blue, and she closed her them against the concussive force of the wind and noise. Once the truck passed, she looked up to see Zemo, magically unruffled, waiting.

She wanted to clear her throat, stick her hands in her pockets, or otherwise submit to her nervous habits. This conversation required a strong front, though. He had to know she meant what she said, and he needed to fear for her continued utility should he refuse.

“Before we go any farther,” she said. “You need to swear something to me. And you need to swear to me on something that fucking matters.”

He blinked, and his eyebrows pinched together. “May I ask to what I am swearing?”

For all her deep breaths, she felt like she was gasping as she explained. “You will not hurt anyone where we’re going. You will not fuck with them. You will not use them. They are not leverage, or pawns, or collateral. When we leave, you should do your best to forget you ever went there. And you should definitely forget the way.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she wasn’t finished, and she wanted more than air behind his words.

“Whatever vendetta you have with Bucky, or Sam, or me – it has nothing to do with the place or people ahead. Now or ever.”

When he’d tried to answer before, his mouth never quite closed. It gave him a slightly puzzled look, and she knew he was playing chess in his mind, looking for the move that followed this one, seeking the treasured piece he’d overlooked.

As she lifted her hand, palm up, he finally understood.

“Swear it,” she repeated. “In the only way I’ll believe.”

To his credit, he didn’t gulp. He paused, though, staring down at her skin with an unreadable expression. He’d seen enough over the past two days to know what she was asking. In theory, at least.

“Just think the words,” she said. He needed to do this before she lost her nerve and started shaking. “I’ll hear you, and I’ll feel what you really mean. A quick touch is all I need, and I won’t see any more than that.”

He must remember how vehemently she’d refused to touch others at Sam and Bucky’s pleading. The refusal that served as their introduction. Doubtless, he had a lot to hide. All of that, her ethics included, mattered less than what she had to protect. If he couldn’t do this, she’d think of another place to hide while Bucky healed from the slash that nearly cut him in half. It wouldn’t be as safe, or clean, or good, but they’d all just have to make due.

“Zemo.” His eyes lifted to hers, though his face remained angled down. “Please.”

The gravel crunched under his feet as he adjusted his stance, and he looked away for a long moment to study their surroundings. Fields and trees filled the distance. Queen Anne’s lace and cornflowers bloomed along the verge. No farmhouses sat on the hills, and no voices apart from birds and cicadas carried on the wind. There weren’t even enough passing cars to hail as a hitchhiker. He was stranded, and although she’d given him a choice, he didn’t have many reasonable options.

His gaze returned to her face with that placid expression, and he pressed the tips of his fingers into her palm.

I swear on the names of my family.

And she felt how it mattered. Warm sentiment that blistered like acid, unshakable loyalty, and a willingness to burn the whole world down to avenge them. Yes, it mattered. No, he’d never dishonor their names by breaking his oath.

No. He was not happy about it, and his anger was a dark, dark thing.

She pulled away after the briefest flash of contact, determined to keep her own promise and pry no deeper than she absolutely had to.

“Thank you.”

He nodded, eyes a little harder than they’d been before, and she wished she could express her gratitude the way she could understand others’. He’d just have to believe her. Or not. That wasn’t up to her. They climbed back into the car, and the peanut gallery remained blissfully silent. She knew Sam would have opinions about her performance. He could see through the windshield what she’d done. Maybe Bucky was resting. Or maybe he didn’t care.

Breathing easier, but keeping a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, she turned off the blinkers and moved back onto the road.

No one had anything clever to say for the next thirty minutes, as they peeled off the highway and onto narrow backroads. No one commented as the trees grew thicker and the potholes more frequent, though she caught all of them looking out the windows with greater attention when the fields petered out. No one spoke when she pulled onto a private drive, followed it through the woods and entered a broad clearing. Two houses stood in the sunny space, one as much relic as house, the other only new in comparison to the first.

Home.

She turned off the engine.

Silence.

But not for long.

Two other cars sat parked in the gravel, and she knew what that meant. A full house, and this late in the afternoon, everyone would be home.

She puffed out her cheeks and looked at the three men, each in turn. Hands rising to tangle in her hair, she said, “Best behavior. All of you.”

A dog barked from inside the newer, larger house. They’d been spotted. Any second now, hell would break loose. Best to meet it on her own two feet, outside of the car. She climbed free, and the two men able to stand mirrored her, stepping out on the other side of the little sedan.

The screen door flew open and into the siding as two streaks of screaming energy blasted across the yard and into her chest.

“Auntie B!”

They hit hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs and push her back against the car door. She felt the entire vehicle rock with the force of it. Neither child shied from skin-to-skin contact, and dozens of excited, bubbling thoughts and feels assaulted her anxious mind.

“Oof!”

She had trouble separating words from ideas or expressions from feelings for a hot minute, and she didn’t realize she’d gained a third attachment until a chanting of B, B, B shouted through her skull. Fighting for air and sanity, she tried to hug them all and push them back, half breathless from the struggle.

“Triss?” Sam asked – low, smooth, and in a single syllable – what the fuck was happening.

She craned her head around just enough to see Zemo, standing on the other side of the car. He held her gaze, lips pressed thin as he analyzed the situation.

“This is my family.”

 38 Hours Earlier

She’d been having a good day. She’d been having such a good day. It had been such a wonderful, uplifting, hopeful sort of afternoon, she didn’t immediately think the worst when Sam Wilson and James Barnes appeared at the bar. Sam had his friendly face on, the slightly strained one he wore when they first met. It probably meant trouble, but she was behind the bar – and she really had been enjoying her day – so her bartender smile lit up on instinct. Barnes looked less comfortable, his big, expressive mouth warring with a frown, so she decided to take the initiative and assume the burden of breaking the ice.

“Would you like an old fashioned?” she asked him, leaning down on her elbows with a shit-eating grin. “Or an old fashioned?”

He rolled his eyes, but while the tension lingered in his shoulders, the frown stopped yanking at his face. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” She looked between the two men, surprised to see them together but still expecting something good from the universe.

She should’ve known better.

“It’s good to see you again,” Sam said. A polite opener.

And probably bullshit. Years of work taught her how to read a man who wanted something. Whatever drew them to Manhattan – together – it wasn’t just drinks. Or an attempt to make good on Steve’s introduction, she guessed.

While the smile stayed on her face, her optimism cracked. Familiar doubt and disappointment leaked through the gaps, happy to drown her good mood. Her hopes had yet to fail entirely, but she knew. If it was good to see her, he would’ve made some kind of effort before this. If he was really seeking a friendship of some kind, he wouldn’t begin by trying to establish they already had one.

Sam pressed ahead, unaware he’d lost the edge in the coming fight. “We need your help.”

“I’m at work.”

She’d been practicing for moments like this, learning how to say no. This would test her mettle though. Sam was good at what he did, and he talked people into and out of trouble for a living.

“Sorry.” And he actually sounded like he meant it. “But we only have your work address.”

Her smile turned Midwestern – flat and polite, nearly apologetic. “I gave you my cell number, though. What’s so important you had to ambush me at my job?”

He didn’t have an immediate answer, and Bucky’s uneasy shift to look over his shoulder told her things Sam hadn’t. Bucky didn’t choose to come here. He didn’t want to see her or ask for her help. That could mean he’d paid better attention, that he expected her refusal. Or he could just be an old man feeling old man ways about things.

She took the opportunity to start making the old fashioned she’d promised. Whether or not either of them drank it was nothing to her.

Well.

That wasn’t true. Her professional pride would be hurt if they didn’t enjoy it.

Her two coworkers started sending her looks, and a few customers tried getting her attention around the two men. Whether she caved or not, this conversation needed to be put on hold.

“Look,” she nodded to the back corner, where a gaggle of grad students had just evacuated a booth. “I’ll talk to you on my break. Seriously. I’m at work.”

She slid the old fashioned to Barnes across the bar, and he caught it through instinct, even though he’d barely been paying attention. “On the house. Go away. Sit. Stay. Whatever.”

To his credit, Sam followed her order. A polite nod, and he disengaged. Barnes hesitated with a question on his lips, eyes moving between his friend and the girl at the bar, but in the end, he followed Sam with his own nod as he retreated. At least he took the damn drink.

She lifted her fingers to her face, briefly exploring the frown she’d grown. When did that get there? Fuck. She’d been having such a good day.

A third man joined Steve’s old friends in the booth – and she realized he’d been the thing halving Barnes’ attention. He looked like money, and she disliked him on principle. The tips men like him offered rarely compensated for the aggravation. More than one asshole tried paying his way out getting bounced after groping the staff, or breaking furniture, or asking a bartender to run an errand. She wondered what the three men had in common and what brought them to her place of work without a call.

Her mood continued to sour.

Bottles, shakers, and spoons moved through her hands in a glittering parade as drink after drink came together for thirsty strangers and regulars crowding the old wooden bar. A professional smile masked the churning frustration, proof of her charade gathering in the tip jar.

Six months. Why did they have to ruin one of her good days? She had plenty of bad ones; she might even enjoy the distraction on one of those. She’d been less than enthused to see Steve again, but he’d been so insistent, and he looked so damn hopeful as he introduced her to his two friends, recently returned from dust. Then he left. And that was that. She thought it was over. Apparently not.

An hour ticked by, and customers started going home. It was a weeknight. Some people had places to be in the morning, though enough lingered to justify keeping the doors open, and night owls and tourists kept trickling in from establishments down the street.

She kept glancing towards the booth, where the three men sat in sullen silence punctuated with arguments. Although distance and the low thrum of music from the bar’s overhead speakers muted them, they looked like an old married couple fighting – too stuck in habit and necessity to split, but too far from the honeymoon to care for the relationship.

They looked back, sometimes, and she always turned away first. She didn’t need a staring contest to assert herself here. She was a bartender. She was behind the bar. A mere glance towards the bouncer would send them packing. A tempting thought. They’d wait to talk until she’d done her time and ensured she had rent covered for the month.

And then a new asshole joined the party.

He stormed in the bar like a man on a mission. Never a great start. Bros with the muscles and haircut he sported came to bars to relax, play the pick-up artist, or pick a fight – and he didn’t look like he wanted to relax. His march led him straight to the bar when his initial sweep of the place failed to deliver… whatever he was looking for. As he approached, she couldn’t help noting the recessed booth where her three unwanted guests lurked wasn’t visible from the door. She’d sent them there because it was out of the way. Was that decision about to bite her?

The big man – all buzz cut and undersized t-shirt – grabbed her arm as she reached to retrieve an empty glass. She froze. Her thoughts had a counterpoint, and it was loud.

Angry and afraid: her feelings.

Angry and looking to hurt someone: his feelings.

A few faces flickered across his surface thoughts, and she recognized them all. He’d followed Steve’s friends through Manhattan, despite obvious efforts to throw a tail.

Well. At least they’d tried.

“You should really let go of my arm,” she said, softly, like a firm suggestion.

That amused him, and his thoughts went very dark.

“Oh yeah?” He smiled. “I’m looking for some people. Seen three guys come in here? Leave through a back door maybe?”

He wondered what sounds she’d make if he crushed her arm in his fist, what sounds she’d make if he broke her apart in other ways.

Retrieving the glass with her free hand, she subtly signaled Jack, the bouncer, and tucked the dirty dish in the bin under behind the bar. The hand flexed on her arm, and she brought up a fresh glass as Jack made his way across the room, and she began pouring her favorite overproof rum.

“Only one door for patrons. Haven’t been keeping tabs on numbers. If you don’t see them, they’re not here.”

The man’s head was a mess, and she caught glimpses of lots of things she’d rather not see along with things that may be useful in solving this mess as his attention fluttered. She wouldn’t be the first girl behind a bar he’d hurt. Too bad he couldn’t go to the Clover anymore. So close to base and all – Maybe after they took care of the snooping problem he could –

“Hey.” Jack put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Time to go, pal.”

She returned the rum to its place and slipped her hand back under the counter. She felt bad for Jack, but she needed the distraction.

The stranger – well, not a stranger to her anymore – backhanded the bouncer hard enough to send him flying the length of the bar. Patrons jumped up, shouting, as some ran for the exit and some looked for an excuse to join the fight.

While the big man watched his target crash through a table, she whipped out the sturdy pairing knife she used for lemons and limes. She drove it clean through her assailant’s wrist and into the bar. The pain surprised him. It wasn’t great secondhand, either, sparking across the connection, but he released his grip, and she pressed her attack. Both hands free, she hurled the glass of rum in his face, and as he instinctively tried wiping it out of his eyes with his free hand, she thumbed the wheel of the bar’s lighter. She snarled, hurling it after the alcohol. The instant the sparks met his soaked shirt, he burst into flames. He howled, flailing to put out the fire dancing over his chest, arms, face.

A metal arm swung from behind, into the side of his skull. The party of three had returned to close their tab. The crack echoed as two more big men with bad haircuts kicked through the very open and innocent door. They looked pissed.

Sam vaulted over the bar, the third wheel from the booth slipping under the bar hatch as Bucky hurled the – still flaming – assailant towards the new threats.

“We need to go,” Sam shouted. He didn’t touch her, but his arms hovered in a vaguely protective fashion, herding her towards the back door.

She didn’t need to be told twice. By the time Bucky swung across the bar top to join them, she’d pushed through to the little hallway that led to the employee bathrooms, breakroom, and back entrance. She didn’t have to stop as she yanked her bag and coat from the hook on the wall, suddenly glad for the bar’s poor security for personal effects. Her bag was more backpack than purse. It hung heavy with all the things she needed most, including her laptop and a change of clothes. Just in case, she’d always told herself. Just in case, for whatever reason, you have to run.

Her paranoia had paid off, and she hated it.

Smoggy spring air full of car exhaust and the tempting smells of the Italian restaurant across the alley welcomed them on the other side of the door. She gulped it in, wondering if she’d ever cringe over the mix again the wee hours of the morning.

No. Of course not. Someone thought she’d be useful, and another chapter of her life closed.

As the men piled out behind her, she turned to Sam, arms half-raised at her sides, asking as much with her body as her words what happened next.

“Looks like I’m involved,” she said. “Where are we going?”

The third man took point, politely gesturing towards the north end of the alley even as he stepped forward to guide them. “The car is this way.”

As she let herself be pulled along in the tide of trouble crashing around the three men, dimly aware of how useless it would be to say no, she could only – desperately – remember: it had been such a good day.

Chapter 2: Link

Tags List: 

@dweeb-central​ @nvtaliaromanovv​

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x oc #zemo x reader #baron zemo x oc #helmut zemo x oc #zemo x original character #bucky barnes #sam wilson #tfatws #fanfiction #fanfic #oc #cuckoo-on-a-string #zemoxreader #zemoxoc #zemo x ofc

[pickledpascal]

Daniel Brühl Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series:

In A Rush

The Life Sentence

The Study of The Alien Mind

One shots:

REQUESTS OPEN

#oc #laszlo kreizler x oc #laszlo kreizler #daniel brühl x oc #daniel bruhl character #daniel bruhl #the alienist #the life sentence #the study of the alien mind #carmen niabi x niki lauda #niki lauda x oc #niki lauda #zemo #helmut zemo x oc

[i-love-frogs-but-loki-more]

Me reading terrible fic on ao3, because I'm desperate for a certain man and I have nothing else left: I'm a survivor. I'm a warrior. I can do this.

#it was disgusting for 50% of time but i tried for the rest #fanfics #fanfiction #x reader #x oc #loki #lee scoresby #matt Murdock #remus lupin #severus snape #din djarin #helmut zemo #cassian andor #kylo ren #marvel #doctor who #jaime lannister #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steven grant #tony stark #bruce banner #jack russell #killian jones #rumplestiltskin #thor #morpheus #sandman #dream of the endless #jack the lamplighter

[hereticpriest]

Masterlist

MDNI

Series

Mercy

Rating: Explicit 18+

Relationship: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

To begin with, some warnings about this story: A/B/O Dynamics, Female Alpha, Male Omega, Some chapters may involve messing with the whole 'alphas are always dom and omegas are always sub' because I think nuance exists even in A/B/O dynamics, Fucking with the timeline (this is a blend of Canon, Legends, and original lore), Minimal use of Y/N (Explained in the first chapter), Reader is an alien species of my own creation and thus has a physical description, Familial bonds explored heavily, Clone rights explored heavily, Violence is more graphic than canon-typical however any graphic descriptions will be noted, AFAB reader, Not beta-read so I apologize for any mistakes.

Read on AO3

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Nine Point Five - Part Ten -

Miniseries

The Typist - Laszlo Kreizler and his bitey wife

Bite - Laszlo Kreizler x reader ft odaxelagnia

Chew - Laszlo Kreizler x reader ft odaxelagnia, prequel to Bite

Swallow - Laszlo Kreizler x reader ft odaxelagnia, prequel to Bite and sequel to Chew

Oneshots

The Bath - Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader ft cockwarming

Pyrrhic - Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader ft 14k of HYDRA being the worst and Helmut Zemo being a consent king

Ctrl and Power - Ernst Schmidt x Reader ft rough sex and secret relationships

Sriracha - Dirk Brûlée x single mom!reader ft sex toys/sybian

Requests and Prompts

Reader likes to come up behind Zemo and kiss or bite him

Roman Sionis fucking reader in his club and being a show off about it (and also he's a total switch)

Roman Sionis making female reader cockwarm him during a gang meeting

Obi-Wan Kenobi noticing female reader's tattoos after sex and pausing to enjoy them

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x oc #obi-wan kenobi x original character #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #my writing #requests and prompts #masterlist #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis #black mask x reader #dirk brûlée x reader

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

Little less than super, soldier

Basically an oc x zemo fic but I'm going to write it in y/n style because that's what I'm comfortable with ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also I am still working on Avatar and Spiderman fics just taking a self indulgent break because the FOCUStm is on Zemo rn.

Your characters background is clear as the story progresses but if you'd prefer to know it going in this is a post on it! And this is a short fic of that info too ✌

This is a part one... I got so excited and wrote a few more ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Summary: Sam gets back up from an old friend, meanwhile y/n is struggling to deal with Zemo.

warnings: for now canon typical violence, tho later chapters will contain mild body horror. Warnings will specify.

Nicht - Don't

Tut mir leid - I'm sorry

Soldat - Soldier

(My german is very basic so feel free to correct me!)

next

Sam hadn't seen you in years, not since he watched you walk away from him, Bucky and Steve. He couldn't argue with their decision, it was for the best. You were a wreck and despite his best hopes he knew you were right. If anyone knew you were alive they'd use you again.

Still he wasn't too surprised when you turned up at his house. He'd only been back from dust a few days earlier but he'd heard from others that you'd been there. Stepping up to help when people around the globe needed you. He hadn't realized the broken person he'd met screaming in a cell had so much heart.

Still you were a ball of nerves, being overly polite and stumbling over your questions. It was a far cry from the swearing, snapping venom you'd spit when the Avengers had you and it put him a little on edge. You just wanted to know if he was okay, if they all were and that you'd be leaving again. He'd given your shoulder a squeeze, despite the flinch, and wished you the best. You'd settled quickly under his had and that was the first time he saw you really smile.

He found the number a few hours later. A tiny scrap you'd somehow tucked into his own jean pocket. A small note, "Just in case." He felt oddly proud of who you'd become and kept it into his wallet.

That day passed into fond memory but every so often a little note and number would turn up. A small reminder you were out there and willing to help again. A few times he thought to call but he didn't. No point worrying you or pulling you back for nothing.

Only this wasn't nothing now. He and Bucky were stumped and with the threat of super-soldiers and he knew you'd want to know. Though the idea of dragging you back it was horrible. He felt the weight of his decision bearing down on his shoulders. Sam slumped further into his chair as he eyed the message. Then with a last deep breath in, his thumb tapped the glass.

Sent. Delivered. Read. Ellipsis.

Then nothing. He waited, head in hands, regretting it immediately. It wasn't like you wouldn't be a huge help but dragging you back like this? It just didn't feel right. Even if you came what could you know anyway? Hydra weren't exactly open with you about things whilst in there clutches. Hell you might end up coming to draw gun fire and that thought twisted his gut. Sam watched the screen until his eyes burnt, then let his head hit the desk.

The buzz startled him some time later. He flung out his seat, scrambling to the message. Bucky, whatever he had been up to after visiting Zemo he was ready to meet. Sam's shoulders sagged as he read the text. He wasn't disappointed, not really. He knew he was asking too much by contacting you. The risk to your freedom was eminence. There was no telling who was still out there looking for you, other than SWORD anyway.

Still Sam couldn't help but feel down as he got his things ready. God only knows what Bucky had done and meeting him across town in some garage didn't bode well.

Maybe you'd settled down somewhere, maybe you were happy. He hoped so, that you'd chosen yourself. Sam fortified himself, squaring his shoulders as he headed to the door. No point stalling, he needed to find out what Bucky had been up to.

He swung the door out quickly but found his feet rooted in place. There you were, frozen with a hand in the air ready to knock. A mess of hair, in sweatpants and an old thread bare t-shirt, looking rather stunned. He stared a moment, watching your mouth bob open and shut, over night bag slipping down your shoulder.

"Y/n!" Sam couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. To his relief your posture relaxed and you returned his smile. "Come on, Bucky might have something, we'll meet him across town."

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

You knew you should try to stop bouncing your leg but every time you lost focus it jumped to life. You didn't want Sam to see you worried like this. He'd always been so kind to you and you didn't doubt he'd let you leave if you asked. You couldn't however, no matter how much it felt like jaws were gonna snap down on you.

He'd been so nice in the car over, being careful to avoid touching you, asking after your life, avoiding making you speak any specifics. You appreciated that, although your run down, rented flat and part time jobs were hardly worth the effort. Hell you'd struggled enough making nice with coworkers, maybe a fresh start would be nice after this.

You'd wanted to call Sam. You'd wanted to check in with him and his family. For a time you even considered contacting Wanda but you never liked someone else in your mind with you. No you'd resigned yourself to the loneliness. Maybe you should get a pet.

"Is it Bucky?" Sam offered, eyes glancing to you before returning to scanning the room. "You know after Wakanda he's..."

"Yes I know." You interrupted, stilling yourself again. You'd actually gone to see him shortly after checking in with Sam. A guilty part of you had felt relieved when he'd disappeared. Though after the five year absence you felt you had to see him too.

He'd been starting therapy at the time, was working, he was doing well all things considered. Still you'd felt the need to check, to be sure the Soldat was gone. You'd left then satisfied that the man you'd known wasn't behind those kind sad eyes and that this Bucky that stood in his skin was not a threat. Still an incredibly able soldier just not of the winter variety. Anyway it wasn't him you were worried about.

When Sam had fully explained the situation you'd blanched. These flag-smashers had access to the serum. Not the same one you'd had pumped into you but a better one. One that left them with the strength and power of Captain America, not just side effects.

Still no matter what it cost, you couldn't leave knowing the serum was out there somewhere. So you'd focus on that, let it anger you, burn away any doubt and drive you forward.

You heard him before you saw him. Loud deliberate steps, Sam must have let him know you'd be there. Unless they were so as not to startle Sam. Regardless there was little more than a tight smiles shared before Bucky led you both further in to the garage.

You wouldn't say you were on comfortable terms with him yet. He was still guilt ridden about the Soldat's memories with you and you were still a little unnerved with a new man wearing the same face. It was nice to see him so happy though. Even in this circumstance his mood seemed far different than you'd ever seen him. Here's to therapy you supposed.

Bucky's plan seemed rather extreme. Break Zemo out and have him help. You had to admit it seemed rather extreme. The ex Colonel was part of an elite intelligence op and had a history of hating Avengers. Though he also hated super soldiers more so that might keep him on their side. Enemy of my enemy and all that.

Except you'd be among the enemy in that case. It wasn't outside the realms of possibility that Zemo didn't know about you. After all his search through the leaked files where rather singular in their aims. Your particular information had been lost or redacted so heavily that without specific knowledge on you it would be hard to link the two.

You continued to follow behind Sam, keeping your eyes on the shadows, watching your back. Some stress was elevated when Bucky flipped the lights on, continuing his back and forth with Sam after shooting a soft look at you. Nothing got past his notice.

If they kept this bickering up you'd be there all day. You slunk over to a car under the lights, perching on the open bonnet. You couldn't help the fondness in your smile as you watched their amusing relationship. Giggling to yourself as Sam rolled his eyes with his whole body, raising his brows to you.

"Look, let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I just walk you through a hypothetical." Bucky started.

"What did you do?" Sam questioned, his brow furrowing as he turned back to face him.

You felt tense again, arms uncrossing from your chest. You weren't quiet sure what was going on now. Clearly Sam had caught on to something you'd missed. Bucky launched into a far too detailed plan and you felt a shiver run down your spine. Every hair stood on end as the dawning realization hit.

"You didn't..." You almost whispered as Sam interrupted again. Then the door was opening and your ears were ringing. Your heart pounded in your throat as Sam charged forward in front of you. You were still stunned, now behind them both as Zemo entered the garage, dressed in a guards uniform.

He caught eyes with you for a moment, taking his hat off before returning to Sam and Bucky's argument. His eyes seemed to drift back to you before he interjected again.

You found yourself standing under his scrutinizing gaze, drifting closer to Sam, inching him further between you and Zemo. You barely followed what was being said, waiting for him to pull a gun or stop staring. Either was preferable in this moment.

"Okay." Sam spoke, defeat in his tone. You clenched your jaw. You didn't like this. If the guy wasn't gonna attack he was going to manipulate his way to his release, you were sure.

Still he seemed cooperative, leading you all back to a larger room filled with old cars. They were expensive things but you didn't let your eyes wander from him. Choosing to break the middle of the pack, you kept yourself between Sam and him. Despite his words and values you wanted to remain vigilant. If you could do nothing else you'd shield Sam.

Other than a few snide comments he seemed true to his word. He drove the group of you to an airport in mostly silence. Peaking back at you and Sam through the mirror.

"So all this time you've been rich?" Sam said incredulous at the sight of the privet jet on the tarmac. You'd calmed down a little, walking by him and Bucky's side as you followed.

"I'm a Baron Sam, my family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country." Zemo spat back. You couldn't help but snort at his comment. You regretted drawing his attention again when he stared back at you. You looked away until his attention left, drawn else where.

Bucky and Sam eyed you a moment and the indignation flared in you again. "What? They dropped that city on me." you hissed quietly. You weren't sure you wanted Zemo to hear that. Sam looked stunned blinking at you before he was turned back to the plane. You fell back in step behind the group as you approached.

You suppose you never did tell him about that. Just letting it stew with your general hatred towards your then captors back then. It'd been a huge loss to you. A life built there crashing down on top of you, leaving you broken and pinned for days. You shook the memories away trying to forget the carnage.

Zemo greeted an old butler looking guy at the steps. To your delight he was wearing the little white gloves and everything. Sam awkwardly nodded and you gave the man a genuine smile as you passed. He was just like the caricature on TV. He looked to be 100 and considering his familiarity with Zemo he could've known him all his life.

It soon set you on edge to be at his mercy 1000 feet in the air. With a knowing look he could fly you all anywhere and you'd be none the wiser. Certainly wouldn't make a change from most flights you'd been on, at least your hands would be free.

Zemo smiled at you as you boarded, gesturing to the seat opposite his own. You ducked your head, shifting quickly to the back behind Sam. If the staring was bad in the garage you sure as hell didn't wanna experience it in direct line of sight.

You didn't catch his name but Zemo spoke to the butler in Sokovian for a moment, implying he'd give out of date food to Sam and Bucky. Angered you huffed, Zemo turning at the sound. You caught his eye, keeping a glare set on his smug expression.

"Nicht." You bit out through gritted teeth. Your Sokovian was rusty but you saw the slightest change in Zemo's expression, before it settle back into a cat like grin.

"Tut mir leid." He nodded, turning back to face forwards again. Sam's head peaked at you from round his seat but you just slumped back into your own. Staring out the window and gripping the arm rests as the plane took flight.

Not long into cruising altitude Zemo angered Bucky. You hadn't been paying them much attention by this point. You'd found yourself relaxing and had become dazzled my the ice on the window and fluffy clouds below. You were startled back by the sudden movement of Bucky. Jumping up and catching Bucky's eye as he took his hand off Zemo's neck and slumped back into his seat, his book back in his hands.

Cursing under your breath you moved to the seat in front of Zemo now. You resigned yourself to a task to keep you awake, stop them from killing one another.

Zemo spoke an apology, but it seemed more probing than you liked. To your relief Sam seemed to turn the conversation back to lighter topics. You slid further into your seat a moment before Zemo began pushing again. You glare into him, not missing the way he glanced at you when he said "innocents die."

A small pang of fear hit you but you bit back a response. He'd clearly caught the hint of resentment you felt towards what happened in Sokovia. Still you kept your gaze level as you bit your cheek and allowed Zemo to continue.

Madripoor, you'd only ever been there in passing. The lawless nature allowed you to obtain some fake documents for relatively cheap. It was too risky to stick around though, too many dangers, too much risk of outing yourself.

Worse still Bucky was gonna have to put on an old mask.

Soldat

#my fics #helmut zemo #the falcon and the winter soldier #kinda wanna write a sam x reader too now #zemo x reader #zemo x oc #little less than super soldier

[gcthvile]

You're losing me.

Pairing: Cole Lensherr (OC) x Helmut Zemo

Fandom: Marvel

Warnings: angst

Summary: Cole and Zemo's love ends when Zemo leaves, despite Cole's desperation to stay connected. Alone and hollowed, Cole mourns what could have been as his broken heart surrenders to the loneliness.

Cole sat on the bench in the empty public park, Zemo's call haunting his thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to forget his partner's words, that it was over, they had to part ways. But Cole knew that moment would come, as Zemo's quest for vengeance against those who took his family consumed him.

Zemo approached quietly, as was his way. Cole didn't turn, didn't meet his eyes, afraid of what he might see - or not see - in their haunted gray depths. "You've said your piece. Now say what you really came to say."

Zemo sighed softly. "There is nothing more, you know my path. But know that what we had..." he trailed off, as if the words pained him. Cole wanted to beg, to plead, but his pride held fast.

"Will you not even look at me?" Zemo asked. Cole turned then, seeing the conflict, the regret, but also the resolve. He knew nothing would sway Zemo from the course he had set himself upon.

"Some days, it's like I'm someone else," Cole said bitterly. "I watch you walk away, leaving me out here on my own, and it feels like you're taking everything. Guess I didn't realize everything means you."

Zemo reached out a brief moment, fingers brushing Cole's cheek, before dropping his hand once more. "Perhaps...when this is over..." he suggested, though they both knew that was a promise neither could truly make. With a sad half-smile, Zemo turned and walked away, disappearing into the gathering dusk as Cole fought the tears threatening to fall, feeling as though his heart was being torn from his chest with each step Zemo took, knowing he may never see him again but unable to call out, to stop him, pride and pain holding his silence.

"We thought a cure would come through in time, now I fear it won't"

Cole watched Zemo walk away until his figure was lost to darkness. A solitary tear finally escaped, sliding slowly down his cheek. They had believed, somehow, that Zemo's quest could be sated, that vengeance would salve the wound in his soul and set him free to live again. But watching Zemo retreat into the night, Cole knew with sinking certainty that would never be the case. The pain and loss ran too deep, and Zemo was drowning in it, lost to the dark currents with no hope of surfacing again. This parting was no temporary one, but a final goodbye, as Zemo gave himself over fully to the shadows and Cole was left with only memories, and the knowledge that Zemo's cure had proven fictional - the damage was done, and nothing would heal the scars on both their hearts.

"Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light

Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time"

Cole returned to the home he and Zemo had shared, now empty of all but memories. He sat in the darkness, not bearing to turn on the lights that had once illuminated their joy and intimacy. How many hours had they spent in this very room, talking late into the night by the fire or curled together on the couch, each taking solace in the other's embrace?

Now loneliness pressed down with suffocating weight. Cole glanced around at familiar furnishings that seemed foreign and cold without Zemo's vital presence to give them life and meaning. He thought of simpler times, not realizing back then how fleeting they truly were. Zemo had always kept his past and future close, sharing little of either, and Cole wondered now if some part of Zemo had known even then how brief their time together would be.

Was it time to let go, to accept it was over and face the empty house and hollow future alone? The shadows held no answers, only specters of the past that mocked his solitude. With a weary sigh Cole rose, unable to endure the ghosts of memory a moment more. He left the darkness behind, but it remained imprinted on his heart.

"Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

I'm getting tired even for a phoenix

Always risin' from the ashes

Mendin' all her gashes

You might just have dealt the final blow"

Cole wandered the empty house once more, still unsure what to do with the remnants of his life with Zemo. So much of who he was had been entwined with the other man - should he simply purge it all, as if Zemo had never existed? But the thought of erasing their history together was its own anguish.

Yet staying here, surrounded daily by reminders of what was lost, threatened to break him further. Cole had risen from ashes before, reinvented himself when all seemed lost, but this loss cut deeper than any other. He was tired of fighting only to have hope ripped away yet again.

Zemo had done more than break his heart - he feared the other man may have destroyed Cole's very ability to heal and begin anew. Always before when battered and wounded, Cole had found resolve to fly once more. Now, he knew not if any power resided within him, any flames remained to be rekindled.

In the end, Cole decided to take one box of treasured memories, leaving the rest for another day. For now, survival would require distance from these rooms steeped in their shared history. Whether any ash-scattered phoenix could manage even that, Cole did not yet know.

"Stop, you're losin' me

Stop, you're losin' me

Stop, you're losin' me

I can't find a pulse

My heart won't start anymore

For you

'Cause you're losin' me"

As Zemo spoke of leaving, Cole felt himself dying inside. He struggled to comprehend how the man before him, who had given Cole purpose and passion, could walk away as if what they shared meant nothing. Zemo met his gaze briefly but offered no true explanation or reassurance, only vague words that did little to quell Cole's rapidly intensifying terror.

Cole's heart pounded frantically, feeling as it if threatened to shatter within his chest. His pulse echoed in his ears, the only thing he could hear over the roar of blood and mounting panic. With eyes pleading, desperate to glimpse even a hint of doubt or regret in Zemo's cool gray stare, Cole reached out a trembling hand to grasp Zemo's wrist weakly.

"Please..." Cole whispered, his voice cracking. Zemo gently but firmly removed Cole's grasp, and Cole saw with crushing finality that nothing he said or did would change the inevitable. With that, the last flame within Cole's heart was snuffed out, leaving behind only the charred remains of what once beat strong and sure. Zemo was truly lost to him now.

"Every mornin', I glared at you with storms in my eyes

How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?"

As Zemo turned to leave, Cole grasped his arm once more. "Say it," he begged brokenly, the pain and desperation in his eyes cutting deep.

Zemo hesitated, knowing the words were but bitter ash now. Yet he owed Cole this final kindness at least. "I loved you," Zemo said softly. "More than you knew."

Cole laughed mirthlessly. "No, you didn't. Not truly. If you had, you would see what this is doing to me. Every day I stared at you hoping, praying you would finally see. But you were always too busy planning your vengeance to notice me slowly dying inside from keeping this secret."

Tears glistened in those stormy eyes Zemo had always admired, the eyes that now saw him with such anguish and betrayal. Zemo had no defense, no explanation Cole would accept in his agony. Some pains were simply too deep for words to soothe.

With a heavy heart, Zemo gently released Cole's hand. "Farewell," he whispered, and was gone. Cole sank to his knees amid the wreckage, shattered beyond any hope of repair.

"And the air is thick with loss and indecision

I know my pain is such an imposition"

Cole sank down on the couch, his body heavy and aching as if every muscle had been pulled taut to the point of snapping. Grief and anguish swirled thickly around him, almost a tangible thing he could reach out and grasp in his fist.

He knew his turmoil and distress must be weighing on others as well. How selfish he was being, wallowing in his own pain without thought for how his suffering affected those around him. Zemo was gone - they all lost something with his departure, and yet here was Cole drowning in his private sorrow as if it was the only thing that mattered.

It was an imposition, he knew, to expect others to bear witness to his unraveling or pick up the pieces of his broken heart. He should be stronger than this, carry his grief silently as Zemo would rather than make a public spectacle of his despair. But strength had fled, leaving only hollowed-out ruin in its wake. All Cole could do was succumb to the darkness steadily strangling him from within.

"And you know what they all say

You don't know what you got until it's gone"

Cole sat alone in the silent darkness, memories of his time with Zemo drifting bittersweet through his mind. He recalled lazy mornings waking in Zemo's arms, feeling sheer contentment in those quiet stolen moments before the demands of the day. Nights spent pour over old books or discussing philosophy and history by firelight, Zemo's passion for knowledge kindling Cole's own intellect.

Small touches and gestures that had simply been part of their everyday before now seemed precious - a hand guiding Cole's in a dance, fingers threading through his hair, the warmth of Zemo's smile, rarely shared but capable of lighting Cole's world when it appeared. Only now, through the harsh lens of loss, did Cole truly grasp how much he had taken for granted. These days of intimacy and understanding were behind them now, the realization leaving only emptiness in its wake. You never do know what you had, Cole thought sadly, until you find yourself with nothing at all.

"How long could we be a sad song

'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?"

Cole recalled the subtle shifts in Zemo in the weeks and months preceding their parting. There had been an increasing distance in Zemo's eyes, a hint of darkness creeping into his gaze that hadn't fully lifted even in their most intimate moments. His smiles came less easily, and he seemed to pull away emotionally when once they had been open books to one another.

At first Cole had tried to draw Zemo back out, concerned something weighed on his mind. But Zemo remained resignedly silent and aloof, no longer willing to share the thoughts that so obviously plagued him. As the distance between them stretched each day, Cole feared he was losing the man he loved to some interior abyss he could neither name nor navigate.

Each morning it took more effort to rouse even a glimmer of warmth from Zemo's cold exterior. Cole wondered how long they could continue like ghosts drifting past one another, until the sadness encircling them became something inescapable, and the men they used to be faded beyond any power to restore. It seemed Zemo had walked that line and crossed over, leaving Cole alone on the near side, grieving for what was lost.

"I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy

And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier"

Cole sat among the debris of his shattered world, exhaustion like lead in his bones. Though he tried to hide it, Zemo had always seen straight through to his core - and what had he found there? Only a man straining under the weight of another's burdens, doing all he could simply to keep standing as blow after blow fell.

He had spared nothing in caring for Zemo, holding his fractured soul in gentle hands and easing what pain he was able. In turn, Cole's own seams had slowly begun to tear under the pressure, leaked agony seeping through the cracks in his facade of strength. Always he strove to remain stalwart, a solid foundation for the other to lean on.

But foundations can crumble under enough strain, as Cole had finally at length done. Now surrounded by ruins, he questioned all that had come before - had he truly offered solace, or only served as another burden for Zemo to bear? Perhaps in caring so deeply for another, he had neglected his own wellbeing until there was nothing left to give. Cole wept now not only for their lost love, but for all the ways he may have failed the one person whose regard had meant most.

"And I wouldn't marry me either

A pathological people pleaser

Who only wanted you to see her"

Cole knew that if he were to look within himself with brutal honesty, he too would not have chosen such a broken mate. All his value had been placed in another's hands, leaving himself neglected and wanting. He knew now that his endless deference to Zemo's every pain and need, however well-intentioned, had been borne not from pure caring alone - there were uglier motives entwined.

In pleasing Zemo so completely, in making himself indispensable, had he simply sought validation and purpose? Had he wrapped his own insecure soul in the guise of selflessness, so that Zemo's favor became the lens through which he viewed his worth? No wonder such a foundation proved perilously unstable, cracking under the slightest pressure once Zemo's regard began to waver.

"And I'm fadin', thinkin'

"Do something, babe, say something" (say something)

"Lose something, babe, risk something" (you're losin' me)

"Choose something, babe, I got nothing (got nothing)

To believe"

Cole knew Zemo was resolved to leave, yet in his eyes he dared to hope that some part of the man he loved remained, a part that could feel Cole's pain and be swayed. As Zemo turned to go, Cole's gaze bored into him with exhausted desperation.

"Please," Cole whispered, voice cracked and fraying like his ravaged heart. "If there is any part of you that can be reached...do something. Say anything to make this agony stop. Or if you cannot stay your hand, at least grant me some small sign that what we had was real to you."

A tear broke free, tracing the exquisite torment on Cole's face. "I have nothing left to sustain me if you go like this, without a word of comfort or care for what becomes of me. One word is all I ask to ease this void threatening to swallow me whole. Then I can let you walk away in peace."

Zemo met his pleading eyes but a moment. Some words passed between them, unspoken yet understood, before Zemo turned once more toward the darkness and was gone.

"Stop (stop, stop), you're losin' me

I can't find a pulse

My heart won't start anymore"

His heart shattered beyond repair, Cole withdrew into a pain so profound he could no longer bear another's touch or kindness. While friends reached out in concern, their words and comforts seemed hollow echoes that could not carry through the dense fog enveloping his soul.

Each day Cole faded further, going through motions of living while inside he ceased to do more than merely exist. His vibrant spirit had been severed from this mortal shell it once animated; only an echo remained, drifting wraithlike through the ruins of what was.

No pulse of life or hope stirred in the ashen wasteland Cole had become. His heart, once so full of passion and longing, lay stilled; no force of will seemed capable of jolting it to beat again. And so Cole dwelt as one already dead, wandering a purgatory of his own shattered making, lost to all in this world and the next.

decided that one of our OG couples deserved a fanfic of how the things ended between them, so there you go!😁

tags: @missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @purpleprincessonfyre @ask-missparker @askstevella @therealdaydreamstark @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @gaminggirlsstuff

#oc post #oc rp #oc rpg #marvel #marvel roleplay #marvel oc #marvel x oc #cole lensherr #helmut zemo

[frostironfudge]

Tenebrous - Loki (AU) - Chapter Twenty

Pairings: Vampire! Professor Loki x Fem!Reader, Bucky x Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki, Reader, Bucky Barnes, Stephen Strange, Baron Zemo, Other OCs

Warnings: 18+ minots dni, angst, witch-vampire bonds, coven dynamics, blood drinking, emotional, swearing, sm/ut, mmf, mm, mf, thre/esome, soul bonds, vamipire stuff, or/al, fing/ering

Word Count: 5.1k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics​

Chapter Nineteen || Epilogue

Main Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || My AO3

Chapter Twenty: Time Will Be Immortalised

Eight Months Ago. 

They all stood at the foot of Thor’s grave. Nia placed a single flower near the headstone. Her hand pressed upon the apex, “God, Thor, did you have to be so horrible?” She grumbles. 

Loki stands solemnly between Bucky and Y/N. Her head resting against his arm and Bucky’s palm intertwined with his own. 

The vampire sighs, looking at the grave. Stephen and Emery stand a few feet behind Loki. Though he had an off feeling about the dead vampire, he had hoped this would not be the outcome. 

“He made bad choices.” Y/N reasons, Bucky wants to scoff. His displeasure at her words traverse across the steadily growing bond. Y/N’s gaze meets his blue eyes. 

“He didn’t take care of you as he had promised. Do not make excuses for his choice of actions.” Loki looks down at Y/N. 

“I—,” She begins but Bucky shakes his head. 

“Poetess, things would have been much different if he held focus upon you.” The warlock reasons. 

“He’s right, even if I did not know the truth of Loki leaving you. Thor did, I would have understood why he was being protective.” Nia stands, turning away from Thor’s grave. 

Y/N stays quiet, eyes lingering upon the headstone. 

‘Thor Odinson — brother, first love, and friend. Immortal in memory.’ 

Nia did not want to write soulmate, he didn’t deserve that title. 

“He did possess good qualities, it is a shame they were outshined by the bad.” Stephen adds, Nia joins them. 

“Any bars nearby?” She questions Loki, this was their hometown, built by them over years, most of the land owned by them. 

“In the town square there are five, Meade’s is decent, good hard liquor.” Loki chuckles as Nia grins. 

“Pretty good tab we’ll be stacking up.” Emery chuckles then looks at Y/N. 

“You okay?” They ask her, she nods in response. 

Having Emery know everything made their friendship even more strong. Y/N could tell them everything. They could ask the questions that Y/N could answer while still preserving her recovering mental health.

The bond thrums Y/N and Bucky eye Loki curiously. 

“You three go ahead, I want to take them to Mum’s resting place.” Loki gestures with his head towards the path which leads to the destination in mind.

“Very well.” Stephen intertwines his hand with Emery's, they blush. Y/N has a knowing smile upon her face. Stephen chuckles.

Emery meets her gaze, their happiness shining through the smile they harbour.

Nia checks her phone for messages from the law firm, nothing new, no fires to put out. She sighs, tucking the device back and following Stephen to the bar.

Loki, Bucky and Y/N remain back.

“I know I should have asked the two of you before—,”

“We’d like to meet her.” Y/N interrupts, quelling Loki’s nervousness.

Bucky smiles as well, “We would be honoured to meet the woman who raised our mate.” 

Loki smiles, leading them to the grave that has flowers bordering it.

“These were her favourite, we had a garden back home.” Loki touches the petals as the flowers sway in the wind. “Mother, this is Y/N and this is James, they both are my mates.”

Bucky and Y/N look at each other and then at the grave, then Loki,

“You have a wonderful son.”

“So full of love.”

Loki smiles hearing their words as he kneels placing his lips to the headstone.

“She is proud of you, you know?” Bucky adds with a smile. 

Loki nods, “I wish she could have met the two of you.”

“We wish we could have met her too.” Y/N places a palm on Loki’s shoulder. it trembles despite her best effort. 

She attempts to use the spell that would allow him to feel her embrace.

The spell spurs in and out, flickering like a broken lightbulb.

Bucky feels her frustration. Loki is about to tell Y/N that it is okay, she needs to rest. When his mother’s embrace takes over.

Y/N stares at Bucky’s warm hand placed upon her own. Eyes closed in concentration to stabilise her spell. She sighs, the inability to perform magick frustrating her to no beyond.

“Just a matter of time, you will get back to it.” Bucky whispers, peeking at her with one eye open, “Then we can have a magick battle to see who is the better spell caster.” He grins focusing back on the spell after her frown is turned into a smile.

“You both are not doing anything reckless.” Loki pipes up.

Y/N giggles, Bucky looks at her and winks, “Of course, we won’t.”

“I felt the wink, Warlock. Witchling, you better not be agreeing with him.” Loki mutters.

“Good, the bond works then.” Bucky laughs, drawing more laughter from their mate.

“Little troublemakers.” In a blur Loki has the two of them flush against him in his arms, lips brushing over their foreheads.

Seven Weeks Ago.

Y/N had avoided speaking to her quote unquote mother for as long as she could. Clark and Miles suggested she get it over with, but Sierra surprisingly told her to take her time. The moon ruled over them, as Celestials there was a bond of a higher calibre. 

Y/N purses her lips, as she trudges to Clark, moving away from where Bucky and Miles were discussing types of divination. 

“Keeping secrets?” Clark chuckles, gesturing for her to sit, she shakes her head.

“What do you know about power transferring? I read in one of the books that we can store powers in inanimate objects or other…. beings.” She keeps her gaze steady.

“Who do you want to transfer your powers to?” He places the book on the side table.  

“I’m not sure if I want to but I’d like the option open.” Y/N admits, fingers drumming against her thighs. The thoughts she was having, the aversion to magick that suddenly was thrust upon her only to take Alexander down.

It felt alien to her. Not a part of herself as it should feel. 

“Transferring is no easy feat, razor sharp focus and the person should accept your powers before the spell.” Clark writes upon a piece of paper, handing it to Y/N.

“This book is in the library, you can take it. I hope you think it through before giving away your abilities.” He regards her, knowing he was hard upon her.

“It doesn’t feel as though it is my own.” She admits out loud for the first time. Fingers run over the written words upon the paper. She sighs.

“You can work on it, as part of the coven–,”

“Am I part of it? I didn’t have a traditional initiation, I just practised and learned to protect. I know you’d save them over me.” Her words silence the High Priest.

“I will admit your journey has not been the easiest.” Clark wonders what words are correct, soothing in this situation. It doesn’t come easily to him.

“It hasn’t.” Y/N agrees, biting down on her bottom lip to stop the tears. 

Weak. The word rings across her mind.

“Giving up isn’t the way.” He advises, reaching out to place a comforting palm over her forearm.

“I’m not giving up Clark, I just, I feel disconnected. I went through so much with everything. I don’t belong in this world in this way. I can’t push myself to work with something that doesn’t seem to want me.” Y/N looks up at him, hoping he understands. 

Clark nods, “If you want to practise or have questions let me know. Learn to cloak the object you do pick. If it is another witch or warlock I suggest speaking to them first about it.” 

“Thank you.” 

Bucky’s leg bounces as he watches Y/N approach the dinner table. Loki places a gentle hand on his knee. Reassuring him silently. Two weeks after the meeting with the Celestials and things were going well for the three of them. Date nights, days, falling further in love. Exploring aspects of their bonds one on one and together. 

Things were looking further upwards and onwards for all of them. Y/N and Bucky both recovering from the traumas of the past year. Healing. 

The bonds no longer looked decaying and broken but now gleamed gold, fragments repaired. 

“You’re not going to hurt her by your decision.” Loki assures yet again, the sinking feeling Bucky has quells in the slightest when he feels the love rush across the bond. 

Y/N grins at the two, her loves, her mates. 

Recovery wasn’t an easy road in the slightest but things seemed better, felt better. She takes her place at the table. The mahogany is covered with different dishes for dinner. 

Impeccably plated and micro greens used for garnishing. 

Loki cooked, she deemed then her brows furrowed. It was Bucky’s turn to cook today, she looks up at the warlock who regards her and allows his own unease to trickle past his carefully guarded walls. 

“You can tell me… what happened?” Y/N reaches towards him, Bucky’s fingers intertwine with her own. Giving a squeeze he grounds himself. 

She had her own decision to share, but what had Bucky worried would take priority. 

Loki grasps Bucky’s other hand, “Whenever you’re comfortable.” 

Y/N squeezes Bucky’s hand, he nods. Pursing his lips and then closing his eyes. She gazes upon Loki; he offers a smile that is assuring but she notes the hint of his own anxiousness. 

“Whatever it is we’ll get through it okay? We’ve been doing so well since everything went down months ago, even the pending conversation with Moonmy.” Y/N recounts, attempting to ease their worries. 

“I have decided that I want to turn. I’m close enough to Loki’s apparent age and I think it is time.” Bucky’s words are met with happiness from his bond with Loki. The vampire is smiling at his mate.

“Oh.” The word leaves past her lips with such heartbreak her mates both lose their smiles.

“Are-are you not happy?” Bucky begins to pull his hand away from her own.

Y/N tightens her grip on his hand, “Bucky, I am happy, I just, I wanted to discuss something with you and based on your decision I don’t think what I had in mind will work out. I’m happy for you, I’m glad you’re taking this step and Loki and I both are here for you during your transition and after it.”

“What did you want to discuss?” Bucky counters, not allowing her to be dismissive. 

“It’s nothing, I–,”

“Witchling.” Loki shakes his head, “You need to share whatever it is that is bothering you, with us.”

“Exactly, Poetess. How are we to provide you with the tools necessary or be there for you in the way you need us to be there if you don’t tell us?” Bucky unlaces their intertwined fingers cupping her cheek. 

The book and her notes weigh heavy on her chest. 

Loki and Bucky exchange a glance then gaze back at their mate. Observing her internal turmoil. Watching her swallow before gesturing with her index finger for them to wait. She heads upstairs.

Loki follows her footsteps with his hearing, “Her reading room.” He watches Bucky’s brows furrow attempting to decipher what was there that had a profound impact.

“She has been in there quite a lot, I deemed it was for her return to her course.” The warlock reasons. 

Y/N returns, a thick book and notes in hand, post-its sticking out of several places and handwriting strewn across the pages haphazardly. Loki denotes the different coloured pens adding to the notes.

“I um, I was reading up on how to transfer powers.” Y/N begins placing the books and notes in front of the two. Bucky takes her notes and Loki opens the book to the first sticky tab annotation. 

“Transferring powers is not uncommon, but you will require training.” Bucky assures, “I think you will be able to do it.”

“I, um, yes, yeah, practice is required but it’s straight forward.” Y/N agrees, her fingers intertwine as she fidgets nervously. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Bucky hums as he reads over her notes, “This is good extensive research. I’m pleased and an object that can be kept safe so that no one may steal and–, oh.”

Loki’s gaze moves from the book to the page Bucky is reading. 

‘While transferring powers to inanimate objects is the far more common and reversible practice it is not lost that a witch or warlock can provide another living being – either animal or human with their powers, provided permission is sought and the recipient of the powers is willing.’ 

‘Supernatural beings such as witches, warlocks, werewolves and vampires may be considered as recipients; this practice is lesser known and explored. It is deemed, however, to be an irreversible spell.’

Bucky’s azure eyes find Y/N’s nervous gaze. Loki gazes upon her as well. 

“Why?” The two of them ask her together. 

“I don’t feel connected to my powers… I know I did the magick when it was required but,” she looks to her warlock, “You had your initiation, a coven that cherished you as their own and not a pawn that was needed to fight battles and only trained in a manner of dire circumstance.” 

“You’ve been doing well, gaining control.” Loki counters, he feels her heartbreak before she vocalises it. Bucky winces, this wasn’t the reaction she expected or hoped for from them.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m getting better… I just, I appreciate the powers, I appreciate what flows through my veins but it’s second nature or rather basic instinct for all the other warlocks and witches I know. For me it's…” She takes a deep breath. 

“Does it feel as if it's more of a burden to you?” Bucky offers, his heart cracking as she nods. His Poetess’ entire demeanour feeling as if she’s admitting defeat. 

“Did you want to transfer your powers to an object?” Loki shifts the focus, they needed to know what she was thinking and how to get through this together. 

Y/N says nothing just swallows the lump forming in her throat, her eyes flashing towards Bucky and then back to her fidgeting hands. 

Bucky looks at Loki, the two gaze down at her notes. Finding the small scribble at the corner.

‘Ask Bucky… if he says no then consider Midnight’s old collar.’

“Did you want me to be the one to receive your powers?” Bucky questions, thumb brushing over her handwriting on the paper. She doesn’t answer. 

“Witchling…” Loki’s voice is pleading; making her look at him.

“Okay, you know what? We’re going to the living room to discuss this, this isn’t a conversation where you need to feel small or thinking you’re asking something you aren’t supposed to,” Bucky tucks the notes back in the book. He then walks towards his mate, gently taking her hand and guiding her to the couch. The three spent the most time either reading, talking or binge watching shows and movies. 

Y/N easily falls into place across Bucky’s lap, Loki follows suit settling next to them, his hand holding hers, kissing her palm. Bucky allows Y/N to nuzzle against the crook of his neck grounding herself before they continue the conversation. 

“You don’t have to be afraid alright?” Loki assures, “No matter what choice Bucky makes, his feelings towards you won’t change nor will he feel forced to choose for you.”

Bucky feels her nod, his palm rubs up and down her back soothing her. 

Loki presses a soft kiss to Bucky’s temple, “You do know you won’t be forced to choose.” 

“I know, I want to hear our mate out completely and help her research further before taking an informed decision together.” 

Y/N takes a few more grounding breaths, lifting her head from Bucky’s neck and she faces the two of them. Her explanation falls from her lips the feeling of disconnect, the way it doesn’t feel nurturing. As though it was a chore to teach her rather than a tradition of passing down knowledge. 

Bucky understands every word, knowing what it is to have a coven that nurtures their baby witches and warlocks rather than just prepping them for battle as if a lamb to slaughter. 

Loki understands nodding along to everything, a worried pit forming in his stomach at the prospect of her regretting the decision. 

“It’s okay if you say no…” She shrugs, “I just, I think I was supposed to be normal?” Once she’s done she looks at both waiting for a response. 

“You’re anything but ordinary, witchling.” Loki kisses her nose making her giggle. 

“Look, I’m not saying no, but I did consider the fact that I would lose my powers when I turned.” Bucky begins, “It’s not to say that I don’t mind losing them, but my powers are another thing that connects me to my coven and Grandmother. I know I would probably have some other kind of ability in place if it is part of my transition but I doubt it.”

“Celestials are known to retain their abilities after the shift.” Loki adds.

“I could transfer my powers to an inanimate object,” Bucky looks at Y/N, “It humanises me, then you could well transfer your powers to me.” 

Her features light up.

“Provided the two of you research this in depth and are equally prepared.” Loki adds, “Also if her transfer doesn’t work can you reabsorb your powers from the inanimate object?” 

“I will be able to, it’s reversible.” Bucky assures, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Loki’s ear. Then brushes his lips against Y/N’s cheek. 

“Will you be telling Moonmy?” Bucky raises a brow. 

“I guess she already knows…” Y/N shrugs, “It doesn’t matter if she says no, either way I want to do it.”

“If you had undergone a better time as part of the coven would you still feel the same way?” Bucky questions her, Y/N ponders over it, replaying all the interactions she saw between the other members and the stories Bucky told her.

“I wouldn’t feel disconnected if I had that kind of witchy upbringing.” Y/N admits.

“Okay.” Bucky nods.

“Dinner then research?” Loki offers, his mates both nod.

Present.

“Professor?” One of Loki’s students cuts through his thoughts of the past five weeks. He refocuses into the present, plastering on a smile for the student. 

Questions answered for his students yet Loki’s own worried curiosity knows no bounds. He retires to his office, heading straight for the alcohol. 

“Pour me a glass.” Bucky’s whisper travels across the floor to Loki. He places another glass filling it with the amber liquid. 

The vampire waits for his warlock to join in, Bucky opens the door, closing it softly. In a few strides he’s pressed up against Loki. Wrapped in each other’s arms. Their mutual worry over their mate quelling in the slightest. 

“It will be alright.” Bucky whispers, “It has to be.” 

“It will be my warlock.” Loki runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair, he sighs leaning for more support onto his mate. 

Grasping onto his blazer lapels, blue eyes meet green ones. Loki leans in, his lips meet Bucky’s own. The soft gesture is comforting enough to quell the growing anxiety. 

They part when their phones vibrate and chime in unison. 

The dates had aligned; it was the phase of the lunar cycle when Bucky would be completing his conversion. It was also the night they would be transferring the powers before Loki would complete the process and turn Bucky into his own kind. 

Bucky’s nerves were shot but in a good way. Excitement of being the same creature as his mate, having the chance to deepen the bond he shared with Y/N. There was a part of him that was melancholic over the loss of his original powers. 

The blue markings on his left arm glow in response to his call. He traces the lines with his eyes. 

Loki gently raises Bucky’s palm to his lips, tracing the lines to his elbow. 

“Loki.” Bucky whispers, red rims surround his vampire’s eyes, “Loki.” he says yet again with need.

Loki pulls Bucky closer, nose tracing the juncture of his chest and neck, “You smell divine, our mates blood mixed with yours and mine.” open mouthed kisses have Bucky whimper. His shirt unbuttoned, Loki sinks to his knees. Undoing the jeans, Bucky hisses as the confines upon him are released. 

Loki brushes his lips over the tip, Bucky’s fingers tangle in his hair. 

“Mate, you’ve come at the right time.” Loki speaks, Bucky’s eyes snap open and towards the door.

“I,” Y/N’s hand is frozen on the door knob, arousal brims through the two bonds

“Poetess I-,” Bucky’s words are cut off as Loki takes his length in his mouth, cheeks hollowed, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

‘Get inside.’ Loki’s voice instructs in her mind. 

Y/N scrambles inside, locking the door. She moans at the sight of her mates. Bucky beckons her closer. His lips meeting hers in a bruising kiss, teeth and tongue and moans as Loki continues his movements, varying speeds enjoying the sounds he draws from Bucky.

The scent of Y/N’s arousal urges Loki on, one hand caresses Bucky’s balls. The other moves along her inner thigh, the skirt allowing him leverage. Her soaked panties have him moan around Bucky. 

The three moan in unison. 

Loki’s thumb draws circles over her clit, the fabric adding another layer of sensations that have her whimper into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky’s arm wraps around her waist, holding her flush against him. 

Their sounds grow needier, Loki times his head bobbing to the thrusts his fingers provide to Y/N. His sweet mates unravelled for him. Bucky tugs on his hair. 

Y/N moves as Bucky lifts her in his arms, facing Loki. Her dripping cunt soaking his cock her legs thrown over Loki’s shoulders. His fingers now move on her clit.

Loki takes Bucky back in his mouth, their mixed arousal only urging him onward.

She falls apart first with a cry, her head thrown back against Bucky’s left shoulder. Bucky places kisses over her neck as he moans against her sweet spot as he cums. Loki swallows every drop they give him.

Slowly the two humans calm down, Loki kisses them deeply each stated to an extent.

“What brought you to my office?” Loki questions his witchling.

“I um, forgot…” Y/N’s cheeks flush, drawing laughter from Bucky. 

“Perhaps another set of orgasms might jog your memory.” Loki offers, Y/N squeals before she’s placed on his desk. Bucky and Loki both gaze at her glistening folds. 

“We’re the luckiest aren’t we Loki?” Bucky’s large palm traces up her thigh, spreading her legs further apart.

“We are.” Loki agrees, “Have your fill my Warlock. I’ll have her moan around my cock.” 

Y/N clenches around nothing, preening under their intense gazes, words having her grow wetter. 

Bucky takes a seat on Loki’s chair, lips tracing her folds as his lips then latch upon her clit. Loki traces her parted lips with his cock before slowly sinking into her beautiful mouth. 

<><><>

Everything was set up, candles arranged in the shape of a crescent. Y/N sitting at the centre of it. Bucky’s jaw clenched as the air became heavier around them. 

Iridescent glimmers shift through, candle light adding to the glow. Embers casting shadows across their features and the walls. 

Loki attempts to quell the growing unease across the bonds. Disallowing his trepidation to trickle to his already worried mates. 

Y/N bit her bottom lip, eyes meeting his then drifting to Bucky. The warlock gives an encouraging nod. His spell was done, he was left without powers, they were encased into a necklace he had bought for Y/N.

She blinks, the white glow returns. Loki swallows, shifting towards Bucky. The warlock grabs his hand. Then let it go.

It was time. 

The charged air seems to move. Loki watches, the flames of the candles shift into circles. Burning full moons. 

Bucky swallows, feeling the first of the powers wrapping around him. His eyes close. 

The charged air recedes into nothing, the flames return to their normal shape. Y/N’s eyes open first, no glow present. Her eyes move to Bucky. Loki waits, their breaths held.

Bucky falls to his knees, wheezing and then his eyes open. White crescents visualise across his irises and then fade back to blue. 

‘She may have given you her powers, but they do not make you a celestial.’ The voice rings across the room. The necklace shatters into pieces and blue lines form along the broken fragments. They move towards Bucky wrapping around his left arm. 

The moon gave him back the markings of his old coven. The three of them stare at one another for long moments.

Loki and Y/N move then, helping Bucky up. The warlock only stares at his arm, the lines do not fade as they used to but now remain as a constant as though a glowing tattoo. 

Her hand reaches to touch the line, she had done it before, but this time she feels nothing. 

No flow of magick. Nothing weighing down upon her, making her struggle to stay afloat. A responsibility she wasn’t encouraged or nurtured to bear.

No sense of connection to Bucky and Loki beyond the soul bonds.

The way it should have been. The way it felt before her awakening as though there was something between them but now it was more, deeper and defined.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Bucky gently grasps her face, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

“I don’t regret it. I just, it feels peaceful?” Y/N looks up at him, he nods.

“I just feel my magick, not the Celestial one.” Bucky admits his own eyes glazing over with tears, “Even if I don’t retain it when I turn it's okay.”

Loki pulls the two of them into his embrace. 

Kissing every bit of their faces, taking away the tears that flow. Salt on his lips, his mates cradled in his arms. 

Nia, Stephen and Emery join them hours later. In the last of the night, Bucky consumes the last vial of Loki’s blood mixed with Y/N’s. The taste wasn’t blood-like, the bit of ironish rust taste one would get when trying to curb the bleed of a paper cut.

“This next part may hurt.” Loki says, setting the glass down.

“It definitely will hurt.” Stephen pipes up.

“Does it have to be this way?” Emery questions, their own transformation pending. 

Stephen reaches out to them, gently stroking their arm to soothe them.

“It has to be a sort of clean death. Not to say other forms of killing don’t work. They do but this is swifter.” Nia explains nursing another glass of alcohol. Y/N looks at her in worry. 

“Nia…”

“Doesn’t affect me. Perks can’t get drunk.”

“Nia.. still.”

“Drop it, your boyfriend’s about to turn into a vampire. We’ll discuss this later.” Yet again Nia tables the discussion.

The loss of Thor doesn’t hurt as much. It’s the betrayal, Nia missing the signs. Signs she was fucking good at noticing.

“Just do it.” Bucky exhales, eyes meeting Y/N’s worried ones, “Just a nap, Poetess.” 

“Just a nap.” She affirms, walking back to him. 

“It’s going to hurt like a bitch.” Nia reminds Y/N, she nods.

“My blood runs through him, so I know he will awaken, I’ll be there to hold you through it. Unfortunately you know the experience of the breaking of a bond.” Loki strokes her cheek, “I’ll keep the bond fully open so it may help quell the despair.”

“Or you end up feeling mine.” She mutters.

Bucky laughs, “Look, he fully deserves to feel it.”

“Bucky!” Y/N lightly hits his chest.

“Rude.” Loki rolls his eyes but he smiles at the banter.

“Hey you were the one deciding for us before. This is just karma.” 

Y/N laughs at Bucky’s retort, Loki grumbles under his breath.

“Alright, alright, it’s a bit of time away from Bucky.” Stephen assures, pointing at the clock.

Loki grapes Bucky’s face gently, palms moving to his jaw. 

“I trust you.” Bucky assures, “I love you both.” He looks between his two mates, smiling.

“I love you.”

“I love you, thank you, for trusting me.” Loki places a kiss on his forehead.

Y/N and Emery close their eyes. The cracking sound has them flinch. 

At first Y/N feels nothing and then the bond rips apart, her chest heaves. Loki grasps onto her pulling her against him where the two remain near Bucky. He opens the bond he shares with Bucky to the bond he shares with her. 

The certainty of his soon to return to life status begins to wash over the turmoil in Y/N’s chest. Her sobs begin to quiet and tiredness takes over. Loki rocks her back and forth, her hand not leaving Bucky’s own. 

Sleep finds her after an hour still not letting go of Bucky. Loki feels the vampire aspect take over Bucky stronger, the warlock markings begin to gleam and change. The parallel lines once linear now wrap around his arm.

Y/N is placed in the farthest room as it gets closer to Bucky’s awakening. Nia and Loki remain in the house to prevent things from going south in case the bloodlust is too much for Bucky to handle.

The former warlock stirs, groaning, his hand reaches for his neck rubbing over where he could feel the ghost of the bone breaking. Bucky’s eyes open, black with red rims, a deep hunger manifesting in his belly. As he licks his lips they are dry, parched. The thirst is taking over. He suppresses it, walking to the mirror to observe the changes he’s gone through. 

The short sleeved V neck fits him, his features seemingly sharper and defined but not taking away from what he was born as a human with, it wasn’t as though he was fully changed. 

When he touches his face with his left hand he notices the biggest difference. The three lines of his tattoo now wrap around his arm in swirls.

The middle line has a small crescent at his wrist and a star akin to the northern star is now over his cubital fossa. At the centre of the star however, is a crescent moon with a tiny sprig of lavender.

Pride swirls in his chest as does a familiar happiness, Bucky turns, Loki stands at the door with a bottle in hand.

“Welcome back, James.” Loki greets with a bright smile, their bond thrums. Bucky almost knocks his mate over when he’s by his side in a blur. Loki chuckles, wrapping his mate in his arms.

“Loki.” He breathes, melting into his embrace. 

“You need to feed.” Loki reminds and the thirst comes back tenfold.

“I need to see her.” Bucky argues.

“Warlock, she’s still human.”

“She’s my mate.” 

“And you will know then to feed before you see her.” Loki’s eyes turn black with red rims in response to the defiance, “Quell the beast within, James. You do not want to accidentally hurt Y/N.” 

Bucky clenches his jaw, pushing away from Loki, “You didn’t tell me it was this hard, curbing the need to be with my mates.” 

“You’re a half mated newborn, two basic urges are strong.” Loki hands the bottle to Bucky.

The latter drinks the blood in large gulps, sighing in content as the thirst quells. 

“Better?”

“Maybe after two more bottles.” He jokes, Loki chuckles.

Two more bottles are consumed, Bucky wipes the corner of his lip. 

Enhanced hearings pick up soft careful steps and then a ‘oof’ along with a whined out call of Nia’s name.

“You will wait patiently for Bucky to come to you.” Nia chastises Y/N, She huffs in response literally being dragged away as though a child.

“I need to see him.” She reasons when Nia pauses in the room.

“I know, but you need to let him feed,” Nia looks to the side, “Well you’re in luck, impatient little human he’s on his way.”

Nia stops at the door, “There are about 5-6 gatorades in the drawer.”

“For what?”

“Stamina, you have to keep up with two vampires now.” Nia laughs, easily dodging the pillow thrown her way. 

Y/N sits at the edge of the bed. There is a knock at the door. Her heartbeat picks up, as does the rustling of pages within her chest, as though pages being turned to reach the favourite part of a beloved novel.

Loki smiles at Bucky, noticing the anticipation of the bon trickle through the bond. 

“Come in…”

Loki turns the door knob, he enters with an encouraging smile. Y/N doesn’t look at the door but at Loki as he stands before her. Cupping her face.

“He’s fed, taken to the change well. Eager to see you and bond if you’re willing. He’s told me to pull him away if you do not want to tonight.” Loki explains, Y/N nods.

“I’m ready. I trust him.” She whispers. 

Bucky sighs in contentment.

Loki shifts, Y/N looks up at Bucky. The blue flickers in and out of focus as he tries to keep the beast at bay. Her eyes fall to the markings. The star gleams in the slightest and then the lavender sprig. 

Bucky’s fists clench, “Poetess.” he calls out to her, voice hoarse, needy. 

“Bucky.” Y/N says with equal need.

In a blur she’s pressed against the mattress, a breathless laugh leaves her before Bucky’s lips find her soft ones. Her scent thrums through his senses. The beast within him wanted more. 

Bucky’s hands wander over her frame, drawing moans from his mate into his mouth. Her hands grip at his t-shirt arching against him. He nips at her bottom lip. Bucky moans at the taste of her blood. 

“You’re so fucking divine.” He hums, “Loki was right, a goddess, we’re blessed with a goddess.”

Y/N preens at the praise, Bucky allows the beast to take over, the spot under her left collarbone calls out to him. His thigh grinds against her core.

He raises his head looking at Loki who watches them with a lust filled gaze, “Claim our mate, James. You can have her this once alone, because after that she isn’t leaving from between us for a long time.” he smirks.

Bucky returns the gesture, “Hear that Poetess? You’re going to be worshipped. You’re going to feed our hunger the way no other could ever.” He kisses the spot of their bond. Y/N hums, the pheromones clouding every sense their needs brimming across the bonds.

Bucky’s fangs break through the skin, tears brim over as the bond forges between the two. Golden, gleaming, bright. Strong. Bucky feels whole, his bonds complete. The magick thrums through him as well. As before, stronger now.

Y/N breaks out of the haze of the bond, her chest feeling full, the love prominent and everything she needed it to be from both of them. Her hand moves to Bucky’s new markings, thumb brushing over the crescent on his wrist. Both vampires watch the outline of the same crescent form in her eyes then fade away. 

Clothes are scattered over the floor, their mate worshipped between them. Bonds thrumming happily, sighs and moans fill the room. Y/N falls apart between them and is put back together by her mates.

The tangled mess of limbs, she lays between the two. Bucky’s chest against her back and Loki’s chest pressed to hers, she’s on the precipice of sleep with a smile on her face. 

“I love you both.”

“I love you both.”

“I love you both.”

A.N: finally combated the block on this fic and the epilogue will be uploaded next week! thank you for waiting and supporting this fic, i'm so happy i was able to finish it and give it the ending that i feel is deserved by our witchling/poetess, warlock and vampire

tagging: @camerons-specialinterest@stevesmewmew@pandaxnienke

#loki x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #loki odinson x reader #mcu fanfic #mcu loki #loki x you #loki odinson #loki loki loki #loki is a sweetheart #vampire loki x reader #loki au #loki alternate universe #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki laufeyson #thor x oc #vampire thor #helmut zemo #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston characters #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #loki x soulmate #soulmate au #loki series #frostironfudge #loki #marvel #james buchanan barnes #loki x reader x bucky #vampire bucky

[jewel-pixelheart]

Marvel OCs Links :

Here you will find all my Marvel related OCs and Arts :

OCs

Karina Nagy - Ref Sheet (OC)

Karina & Zemo - Short Comic

You know I can read minds ? (Karina x Zemo)

Guess Who ? (Karina x Zemo)

Do you think mom will like it ? (Pietro & Zemo)

MCU OC - What if...

Fan Arts

Baron Zemo Fanart

#oc #fan character #original character #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl #marvelsona #marveloc #marvel oc #baron zemo x oc #baron helmut zemo #zemo x oc #helmut zemo

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𝑬𝑩𝑰𝑬'𝑺 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

Hello, everyone!

First of all, before the list begins, I feel that I need to warn you that English isn't my first language, so might happen you find some writing/grammar mistakes, I also don't have a beta reader, again I'm sorry for any mistakes.

Most, if not all my fanfictions are 'x ofc/c', however, I write them as reader fics. That means that the only differences from a 'x reader' fic is that the character will have a name and the narration will be in the third person. But no details about the embodiment of the character will be given, with a few exceptions in a couple stories, but I'll be warning in the notes and warnings of the piece when that happens.

Also, I made this Google form, so you can tell me where you want to be tagged. That's all for now.

Enjoy :)

Update: ALL my fanfictions are on indeterminate hiatos. But, I'm not abandoning them, I promise 😘

Update #2: Some changes in the Masterlist, I'm reorganizing the whole thing to get a better view of what I'll be doing, hopefully I'll be able to post something soon.

𝔇𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔡 𝔅𝔬𝔴𝔦𝔢

𝐉𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝔒ℭ'𝔰

𝑯𝒂𝒚𝒘𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔

𝔇𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔩 𝔅𝔯𝔲̈𝔥𝔩

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐙𝐞𝐦𝐨

𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐳𝐥𝐨 𝐊𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐥𝐞𝐫

𝐄𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐭

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔰

𝔒ℭ'𝔰

𝑳𝒆𝒏𝒛 𝑴. 𝑯𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒏

𝑯𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝑯𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒓

𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒐 𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒐

𝔇𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔡 𝔇𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔩𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔞𝔫

𝐀𝐛𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐊𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥 [𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐚-𝐃𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐧]

𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐜

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔰

𝔒ℭ'𝔰

𝑯𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 𝑯𝒂𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓

ℌ𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔏𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐇𝐢𝐥𝐥 | 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐭

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐊𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞

𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞

𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐡 𝐓𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐫

𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐊𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔰

𝔒ℭ'𝔰

𝑯𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒚 𝑮. 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒕𝒕

𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒𝖘

And that's it for now.

I'll make a separate post for each fanfic and one-shot, with the specs of genres and warnings.

𝑰𝑴𝑷𝑶𝑹𝑻𝑨𝑵𝑻!

These stories are 100% MINE, that is, I created, started and will finish them the way they were planned.

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME! REPORT IT.

Thank you in advance for your attention and I hope you enjoy these stories made with great care and effort.

Good reading!

#ebie's masterlist #my writing #ebie's writing #john blaylock x reader #jareth the goblin king x ofc #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x ofc #baron zemo x oc #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler x ofc #polka dot man x reader #abner krill x ofc #dennis murdoc x reader #dennis murdoc x ofc #johnson reprisal x ofc #father paul x ofc #john tyler x ofc #john tyler x reader #matthew kimble x ofc #matthew kimble x reader #brice catledge x ofc #brice catledge x reader #andrew keanelly x ofc #andrew keanelly x reader

[writingtoforgetreality]

i'd like to give you another link to my most recent story ("Outsmarting Opposites"). it's exclusively on ao3 and i'm still writing it. but 11 chapters are out and ready to be read (~41.000 words).

it's a wild ride. a negan x reader AND helmut zemo x reader. mhm, you heard that right. i can't promise regular updates but i am determined to finish it up eventually.

CLICK THE LINK TO READ "OUTSMARTING OPPOSITES" ON AO3

kisses to whoever decides to check it out

#original series #negan smith #negan x oc #negan x you #negan x reader #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #zemo #zemo x reader #baron zemo #marvel imagine #marvel #the walking dead #negan imagine #zemo imagine #helmut zemo imagine #detective story #murder mystery #inspired by #big sky #prodigal son #love triangle

[peachyxboy]

✧˖° Masterlist ˖⁺‧₊˚ ✧

⊹˙⋆ Lalo Salamanca ⋆˙⊹

Series:

A Love so Sweet, it Hurts

One-shots:

It’s a Salamanca!

HCs & Drabble

TBA

⊹˙⋆ The Salesman ⋆˙⊹

Series:

TBA

One-shots:

TBA

HCs & Drabbles:

⊹˙⋆ Helmut Zemo ⋆˙⊹

Series:

TBA

One-shots:

TBA

HCs & Drabbles:

TBA

#lalo salamanca fanfic #lalo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca x oc #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #the salesman #the salesman squid game #the salesman x reader #the salesman x oc

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Soft Target - Ch. 2

Not strictly Zemo x reader, but so close they could kiss.

Chapter summary: Our girl meets Zemo properly, Sam gets to explain himself, and we all love Jurassic Park.

Chapter warnings: Language

Chapter 1: Link

Thanks for all the support so far! Likes are beautiful, retweets are blessings, and comments keep the Depression Beast at bay. nvtaliaromanovv, I don’t know why it isn’t always showing up in the tags, alas!

*I’m using original villains in this for reasons, but they’re very simple and quickly explained in this chapter.

She tried not to think as they ran down the alley, across a street, and around the corner. So, of course, she thought about everything. She thought of the heavy grip on her arm and the way her knife pushed through the thick resistance of muscle and tendon to reach the bar’s hardwood. She thought of the hesitation in Barnes’ posture and Sam’s careful words. She thought of the stranger leading them away from a place she’d thought so safe and wonderful a mere hour before.

But, as she thought, her feet moved, and soon enough they reached their ride, a black SUV a little too sleek for its class, but reassuringly large. If they were pursued, their hunters would have a challenge forcing the massive thing off the road.

The man in the ridiculous coat took the driver’s seat, and Sam rushed to take shotgun, leaving her to slide into the back with Bucky. The vehicle swung away from the curb before she’d even finished fastening her seatbelt.

“Are we being followed?” Sam asked.

Barnes, with his eyes fixed on the rear window, shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Behind the wheel, the stranger hummed. “We’ll take the long way to the airfield. Just to be safe.”

A beautiful voice. His accent sounded familiar, but she had too much on her mind to place it. Eastern European, but beyond that…

Wait.

“Airfield?” Her eyebrows rose. “You have access to a plane?”

The man chuckled, and Sam rolled his eyes as he answered, “Yes. For all the good it does us right now. We’re out of leads.”

His eyes flicked her way, and she felt rather than saw Barnes turn to the window. No one had to explain. They came looking for an asset, not a friend, and every instinct she had during their earlier conversation had proven true. Damn it.

She took a deep breath, reigning in the urge to do something rash – like jump out of the fucking car. This could be worse, but she had to remind herself of the fact, so it couldn’t be much worse. Like it or not, they’d involved her. The man who grabbed her wasn’t the sharpest crayon on the pack, but he wasn’t operating alone, and he definitely had resources. She needed to resolve this before it boiled over into her private life.

Still, before she threw in her lot with the old married couple and their third wheel, she needed to know. This couldn’t be an intentional manipulation. Oversight she’d accept. Misjudging their relationship – fine. Even intentionally using her could be forgiven under certain circumstances. But if they knowingly put her in the line of fire…

“Before I give you anything, you need to answer a question.”

Sam turned in his seat to meet her gaze, firm but sincere. A second pair of eyes kept flicking towards her in the rearview mirror, and Barnes’ solemn attention burned against the side of her head.

“Did you know that would happen?” she asked. Sam looked like he needed clarification. “Did you know those men would follow you? Were you hoping one of them would touch me?”

“No.” Sam was a man of his word, and the weight of his sincerity pulled his voice deep. “That wasn’t supposed to happen, Triss. You were supposed to have a choice about all this, and I’m sorry.”

So, it was all another accident of circumstance. Why couldn’t these hero types cross a few more lines so she could hate them with a clear conscience?

A weak smile fluttered across her lips. “Apology accepted.”

Barnes squirmed a little in his seat, clearly torn. “So, did you get a lead?”

“I got a lot,” she scoffed. “But, yeah, I got some useful things. We’re heading to Lexington, Kentucky. I hope you like bourbon.”

It was enough for the moment, and an uncomfortable silence settled in for the rest of the ride. She couldn’t quite bear more eye contact at the moment, and her emotions fizzed in her gut, building towards an inevitable explosion. Conversation would make the pressure worse, and she’d hate to say something she’d regret since – apparently – they were stuck together for the time being.

Her gaze hopped from streetlight to streetlight, letting the beams lull her into transitive mindlessness. It wouldn’t last. Best to seize the quiet while she could. Sam and Bucky must’ve felt the same way. Everyone kept their eyes on the windows as they moved out of the city and past the suburbs. But she felt him looking. His attention moved from the road to her reflection in the rearview several times, but she only glanced back the first time his focus turned her way.

It felt like he was measuring her up for a fight, and not necessarily as part of his team.

As in the bar, he became a problem to prepare for. What had she given him to use against her so far? Very little. She knew the superficial analysis – blue hair, tattoos, and a strappy black harness dress to show them off. It was her professional look, but she doubted that was what he’d take away from her appearance. Men weren’t so great at distinguishing those kinds of details. He was welcome to his assumptions. They may keep her safe.

The last few minutes of the drive were particularly dark as they approached the small airfield. She tried not to read into it, her jumpy imagination summoning monsters from the shadows under the suffocating weight of the void. When she knew they were out to get her, and she couldn’t see a threat, she’d invent one. As they finally approached their destination, the lights lining the field, strip, and hangars offered relief. Even walking into hell, she liked to see where she was going.

The man behind the wheel parked them – seemingly at random – near the field’s edge, and everyone jumped out as he cut the engine. Backpack over one shoulder, she followed them not to a military aircraft, not even to a beat-up prop plane, but to an actual private jet.

Oh, she wanted to ask. They owed her answers, but if she held her tongue, she’d probably get them without asking. This wasn’t something Sam or Bucky could afford. That left the third man, and she didn’t want to show him her hand. She’d bury her curiosity for another day and trust her patience would pay off.

An elderly butler greeted them at the ramp, welcoming the stranger in a language she vaguely recognized as Sokovian. That explained the accent. Well. One answer given, a dozen grown.

The stranger replied in the same tongue, and she couldn’t help enjoying the sound. She wasn’t at all fluent, but she recognized “Lexington” and “Kentucky” when they popped awkwardly against the language’s natural cadence. A wave of goosebumps crept up her arm as he spoke more than a hasty sentence for the first time in their acquaintance. She’d always had a thing for voices – harmless in the end – and she’d long since learned how to accept such feelings as they moved through and beyond her. It was like they knew there was no point sticking around. Nothing could come of her crushes.

Sam followed the stranger up the stairs, and she followed him, Bucky bringing up the rear with a wary eye roving the dark field and shadowed hangers. Even if he didn’t think they’d been followed, he’d be ready in case they were. It brought her a bit of comfort, actually, having someone else prepared for the worst-case scenario.

The cabin was all oak paneling and creamy leather seats. Clearly expensive. A little dull. The muted environment made her three companions stand out, though, like dark sketches on a blank canvas. Sam and Bucky chose seats catty-corner across the aisle, ensuring she wouldn’t have to sit beside their… frenemy? Despite the distance, once they were settled, he reached forward for a handshake with the kind of smile she saw tossed around during professional networking events.

“I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced,” he said.

She heaved a deep sigh, glancing at his hand as she folded her own against the impulse to reach out. “You don’t want to do that.”

His head tilted to the side. “Pardon?”

“Touch me. You don’t want to touch me.” It felt like a test, or at least investigation. He must’ve seen what happened at the bar, and he certainly heard her discussion in the car with Sam. He had an idea, but he wanted details. Threat analysis.

“Ah.” He pulled back. “A personal preference?” He made the question sound friendly, though he watched for her reaction like a seasoned interrogator. Fishing for information.

“You don’t have to tell him anything you don’t want to,” Sam interjected. “This is Zemo. You might remember him from the news. He blew up the U.N. and murdered the king of Wakanda. Those are just the highlights, but you get the idea.”

Instead of arguing, Zemo ducked and raised his hands in a kind of shrug. “An oversimplification, but loosely the truth.” His eyes, a little sharper this time, returned to hers. “And may I have your name?”

She wasn’t about to give him anything. He’d turn it against her, claim some kind of power with it like a faerie.

“You already heard Sam call me Triss, right?” she asked. “You can call me that.”

His dark eyes sparkled with a cold fire as his smirk creased up into a smile. If her standoffishness irked him, he didn’t show it. He could even be pleased, like she’d just handed him a challenge, or a puzzle to beat.

“A pleasure to meet you.”

“Don’t bullshit me.” She said it without heat, weary from a long day’s work and rough night’s escape.

As the plane accelerated down the runway and inertia tugged hard on her stomach, she chewed her lip, watching the watcher as she balanced her thoughts.

“What have they told you?” she asked.

He didn’t even blink. “Nothing.”

Honesty was the best policy. How long would he keep to it? Probably only as long as it suited his ends, and she had no idea what those were. She could play by those rules.

“I imagine they have a reason for that.” She leaned back, fighting to ignore the helpless feeling of freefall that haunted her gut during takeoff. “You want to know about my condition, right?”

Sam jumped in again. “Triss, you really don’t have to –”

“If we’re working together, he needs to know. Don’t worry.”

He would worry. Of course he would, so would Barnes, and – frankly – she was counting on that, but at a certain point, good intentions became impractical. The sooner she dealt with this, the better. All three men watched as she straightened in her seat, Zemo raising a hand to his chin so one finger could sweep across his upper lip in thought. Even before she began, she must be telling him something.

“Skin to skin contact gives me unfiltered access to your head. What you think and feel, I sense and hear. I can’t turn it off, so a handshake would be a lot more intimate than you intended. Nothing personal.”

“I appreciate your discretion,” Zemo agreed. “And I think I understand why Sam thought your abilities would be… invaluable for this mission.”

“About that.” She turned her full attention on the Falcon, eyebrows up, ready for an explanation. “I think you owe me a story.”

But Sam wasn’t the one to answer.

“We’re hunting super soldiers,” Zemo said. He continued the instant he had her attention, before either of the other two men could do more than splutter. “James was kind enough to break me out of prison to assist in their efforts to track the source of the serum and prevent the remaining soldiers from escalating.”

Sam jumped in, giving Zemo a nasty side eye. “There’s a friend of mine, air force, who noticed a weird trend. Long story short, someone’s been running black ops without official sanctioning, and when we finally crossed paths, they hit harder than they should.”

She subconsciously touched her forearm, sure it would be black and blue by morning, as Zemo picked up the saga.

“We found the source of the serum,” he said, tone neutral, despite the dark glances exchanged by the other two men. “But a powerful figure in Madripoor already sold five doses to a private American security firm. We hoped to find them before they found us, but…” Zemo motioned to her. “You know how that story ends.”

“Yeah.” She combed her fingers back through her hair, massaging her scalp. “Sounds like a mess.”

The plane was leveling out, and as much as she liked this dress, she was ready for something with fewer straps and more give. She rose from her seat, bag in hand, and asked, “Is there somewhere I can change?”

Zemo, the gracious host, rose as well, ushering her towards the back of the cabin. “This way.”

Bucky twitched, like he might follow them, but she waved him down. No point starting a fight in a pressurized metal tube thousands of feet in the air, especially with the man who apparently owned said flying tube. The fact Sam didn’t jump into action assured her it would be fine. Apart from a warning glance in Zemo’s direction, he didn’t even acknowledge the interaction. Discussing their mission seemingly reminded him that he had his lead, and his phone claimed his attention as he tried to research ahead of landing in Lexington.

A discreet door in the paneling at the back of the cabin swung in to reveal a smaller space with a narrow bed to the left and a second door to what she assumed were the facilities on the right. Assuming the second door would have a lock – because trust be damned in close quarters with people she barely knew – she thanked him and ducked through.

She was right. It was the largest lavatory she’d ever seen on an aircraft, and she took full advantage of the space. Lock engaged and backpack on the counter, she set to work transitioning between work and leisure attire. Away with the dress and on with the jeans – much better for running, and fighting, and swimming neck-deep in someone else’s shit. When she tugged her faded Jurassic Park tee from the bottom of the bag, a pack of old make-up wipes fell out – not as wet as they could be, but still serviceable. Some groping deep in the side pockets brought up a surprising amount of makeup. Tubes of mascara, eyeliner pencils, and powder long believed lost returned to the light. She wiped off one face to replace it with another. Although the idea of keeping her maroon lipstick and heavy, winged liner tempted her, she knew it would only look messy in a few hours, and it would draw attention where they were going.

Ready to face the world again, she pulled open the door – and found Zemo waiting in the little sleeping area. She’d surged forward, eyes on her feet, and nearly ran into him.

“Ope.” She stumbled a step back. “Sorry.”

He shook his head, a lock of his hair falling softly across his forehead with the motion. It drew attention to his face, devoid of a smirk, and she only looked away when he extended his hand.

She glanced down, an excuse ready on her lips, when she realized he’d donned a glove.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” he said, “I’d like to try introducing myself again.”

“Why?” Consideration usually came at a cost, and she wanted to know his before she shook on it. Literally.

“Because some things should be done properly.” His devastating voice masked any insincerity beautifully.

She trusted him as far as she could throw him, but he had nothing in his hands, and the boys were just a shout away. Besides, she thought she might like this version of him better than the smirking menace he became in other company. He had more than one reason for cornering her alone, and it wasn’t just good manners.

But she took his hand anyway.

A small, firm shake brought a smile to his face, though nothing so vulpine as what he wore before.

“Baron Helmut Zemo,” he purred. “Again, a pleasure.”

Well, fuck. Didn’t that just explain it all. Of course, he was a baron. Of fucking course. Shaking her head, trying not to laugh, but definitely smiling, she said, “I’m still just Triss.”

“And that is more than enough,” he assured her.

He hadn’t let go. She realized she hadn’t either, but she made a point to slacken her grip and glance down at their joined hands. A whisper of the nefarious smirk crossed his face, but he buried it under a polite nod and the release of her palm.

“Apologies. I believe our companions will think I’ve eaten you if we linger any longer.”

Interesting word choice. She tried not to mull over it as they rejoined the others. They found Sam and Bucky with their heads together, leaning half out of their seats as they argued over… something. Bucky, who’d taken the rear-facing seat on Zemo’s side of the plane, saw them coming first.

“Everything okay?”

She shrugged, dropping her ass to the seat and her bag to her feet. “Fine, Barnes.”

Complicated emotions churned over his face at the use of his last name. Had she actually used it out loud before? It was how she most often thought of him. He was only “Bucky” with other people. Steve. Sometimes Sam. And he’d never given her permission to use the nickname. They really didn’t know each other, and he was lucky she didn’t use an honorific. She knew, because of their introduction, that he’d always associate her with Steve, and that may be a shadow she never shook off. She could empathize with that, really, she could, but if he wasn’t sure what he wanted from her – friendship, distance, support – she couldn’t give it.

She pretended not to notice how attentively Zemo monitored the exchange.

Sam took one look at her shirt and shook his head. “Damn, you’re a nerd.”

“Shush. That’s my childhood you’re insulting.” She was unspeakably grateful for the break in the tension and an opportunity to snark with someone who wouldn’t hoard every word out of her mouth as ammunition.

“Your childhood?” Sam asked. She could practically see the numbers rolling behind his eyes. Like a man suddenly feeling his age, or realizing that he was approaching an age to feel.

“Like it’s a surprise I’m the youngest person on this plane.”

Across the aisle, Barnes chuckled. “Be real careful what you say next, Sam.”

“Hey, I wasn’t going after anyone’s age,” Sam defended. “Just taste.”

“When I want fashion tips from the Junior Birdmen, I’ll ask.” She pulled up Google on her phone, ignoring the scoffing fallout of her parting shot as she looked up fragments of images and impressions from her time in the fucking super soldier’s head. The bar he’d thought of, the Clover, was easy to find.

She handed her phone to Sam, who took the change in her expression in stride. “What’s this?”

“Place our burning man used to hang out. Got banned or… something. I think he hurt someone. They may have a record of his tab, and that would at least give us his name.”

“And if they don’t?” Bucky asked.

A deep breath quashed her immediate urge to glare, and her palms rubbed up and down her thighs as a proper response came together. The texture of her jeans helped ground her as her mind spun with possibilities.

She’d been wondering how long it would take them to ask. They meant to at the bar, and Sam had insisted he wanted to give her a choice – and she still had one. She could leave them in this mess and hope no one thought to hunt down the weird little bartender who disappeared with the trio of snoops. She could depend on someone else’s oversight to keep her safe, or she could further involve herself. The fake I.D. she’d used for her old job wouldn’t lead the bad guys anywhere interesting, but their connections… Someday, she’d like to walk confidently through an airport again, and she couldn’t do that while goons with ties like Sam described had her name – real or otherwise – on their shit list.

A rock and a hard place – neither a destination she preferred.

“Then I’ll ask,” she replied.

As Sam leaned forward, probably to thank her for signing onto the team, she raised a hand.

“I will only ask, and I’ll only accept what I’m offered.” She let the pause hang, grateful none of them leapt to fill it. This mattered, and involved or not, she would stonewall them if they broke her rules. “I am not your interrogator. Do we understand each other.”

“Perfectly.” Sam nodded. “Thank you for helping us.”

He was so damn polite, and he worked so hard to stuff each word with grounded sincerity that it bordered on patronizing at times. Nothing intentional.

Then Barnes had to open his fucking mouth.

“We won’t let anything happen to you.”

She closed her eyes, taking the deepest breath she’d drawn all night, and wondered if it was too late to jump out of Baron Helmut Zemo’s ostentatious jet.

“Don’t jinx it.”

Chapter 3: link

Tags List:

@dweeb-central​ @nvtaliaromanovv​

#Zemo #helmut zemo x oc #zemo x reader #zemo x original character #baron zemo x oc #helmut zemo #baron zemo #fanfiction #fan fic #tfatws #sam wilson #bucky barnes #original character #oc #zemo x oc

[albinomc]

Zemo x Oc

Hoping no one really sees this, but this is a silly little writing I made from a tiktok audio/hamilton song lyric 😭

Widow is one of my Marvel Ocs and she’s paired with Zemo so

:)

“The letter I received from you two weeks ago, I noticed a comma in the middle of a phrase- it changed the meaning, did you intend this? One stroke and you’ve consumed my waking days! It says-“

Widow kept rereading and rereading the letter Zemo had sent her somehow from The Raft. Sam and James left the safehouse, and Zemo disappeared as well. She had noticed the Dora Milaje around more often and she knew he was on their radar but—

Anyways.. she hadn’t seen him in months it seemed. Getting this letter lit a flame that probably should have been put out as soon as she read it- but it wasn’t.

“‘My dearest, Widow,’”

She felt all giddy yet relieved every time she looked at the starting words.

“With a comma after dearest, you’ve written-“

“My dearest… Widow~”

Zemo finished the letter, his eyes flicking back up to the words he started with. He got one chance to communicate with anyone, he wanted it to mean something.

He smiled a little and ticked a comma after ‘dearest’.

He let out a satisfied hum before folding the letter carefully and placing it inside the envelope he was given. Before handing it off to the guard, he placed a kiss to the seal, hesitating a little bit before handing it off.

How he wished he could see her again.

The most he could hope for is that she wrote back.

That's all he wanted, even if having her was just a line of words.

#helmut zemo #mcu zemo #oc x cc #marvel #baron zemo #writing #ocs

[ichxbod]

Just a thought about this fanfic I want to write with Loki, Bucky and Zemo.

His beginnings would be linked to a young Baron Zemo and he would get the name Zlý from him. Zlý: from Slovak ''bad/evil''.

Loki finds an old Hydra experiment at a base in the sea (maybe in thor 1 or avengers) so the girl? creature? She's linked to a line of hydra that everyone doesn't know about, more linked to magic and sorcery. The fic could be her/their journey throughout the timeline, bonding sentimentally with Loki but also with Bucky because both sides of Hydra have a commonality.

Maybe a series.

Zlý: into the unknow for Loki, going through the events from Thor to Thor 2 (passing through avengers).

Zlý: Agonizing among tentacles (idk lol) since Captain America: The winter soldier to Avengers: end game.

And Zlý: An empire fall for Zemo and Bucky (like a polyamorous relationship, I don't like love triangles) during the events of FTWS.

Please, I need to know that this idea is a good one so I can sleep in peace lol

#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki odinson #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #helmut zemo #bucky x zemo #zemo fanfiction #zemo x oc #zemo x reader #loki genderfluid #Bisexual Bucky

[duckybarnes1917]

Figure My Heart Out: Chapter 4

Bucky x Black Original Female Character.

Picking up right where we left off in chapter 3...as Zemo and Bucky continue to pull at opposing sides of Chanel's identity, she begins to find out that balancing her past life and who she's trying to become won't be so simple. Especially when her past comes back to haunt her.

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #tfatws #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky x black!reader #bucky x poc!oc #sam wilson #helmut zemo

[blackjackmagi83]

Criminal Behavior (7)

-

Masterlist

WC: 3.8k

Pairing: Druglords Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes X Detective Original Female Character

Summary: Rose Phillips, one of the best vice detectives in the game, was given a mission to catch the biggest drug lord in all of New York. James Buchanan Barnes. Framing as a lady of the night at a hidden gentlemen’s club, her mission being to do anything it takes to lure her target into her trap. Even if it means going through one of his accomplices to get there. Will the notorious criminals fall for her trap or will Rose fall for their criminal behavior?

Warnings: Lots of swearing, violence, and mild sexual content.

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Hope you enjoy the chapter! ♡

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Rose watched in silent excitement as Stark gripped the piece of paper. Eyes in disbelieving at the amount of names on the list in his hands. Most he recognized, sending a rush of panic and anger through him. He felt betrayed as he counted the names. He would have to take care of this mess himself.

"This is a great find, truly. I’m not doubting your skills but you're certain this was given to Rogers? I don’t want to be baited into unknown territory for nothing."

Rose shrugged, sipping at the bitter liquid swirling in the cup in her hand, "It was in his office, tucked away in a book. That’s a little sketchy. Plus when he dropped me off at my apartment he gave me a whole speech about going on a business trip for an uncertain amount of time and how much he’d miss me, sappy shit to cover up the real issue. Don't think it gets more certain than that." 

Stark nodded, placing the paper in a folder on top of his desk before tucking it into one of the many filing cabinets behind it, "I'll have someone check it out, snap some pictures. You know, the usual routine." 

Rose nodded again, drifting her eyes to her coffee, an unsettling amount of guilt burrowing her chest. She pounded the rest of her coffee down, needing the buzz of caffeine to distract her from thinking of the intrusive thoughts brewing at the back of her mind. 

This is her job. To catch criminals like him. Like them. No strings attached, just pure acting and faking it till she made it to her goal. She had to keep chanting it to make it stick, forcing the thoughts back into the dark.

Tony's concerned expression came into her view, distracting her train of thought, "You alright there sunshine? You’ve gone a bit pale if that’s possible."

Rose sighed, rubbing a hand over her face, "I think I need to get back on the road again, I feel caged being stuck around these guys. They’re draining and piss me off more. Let me investigate Rogers. That way I get myself out of Brooklyn for some time but still keep an eye on him at least. I doubt Barnes will go anywhere, not without trying to get to me first. Just let me do something, Chief. Please."

She knew Natasha would be pissed at her again, abandoning her word on coming back to her old schedule. She could deal with her pissy tantrum later, she wanted this small relief. Like a caged circus animal, once used to the wild, now begging to run on the grass, even for a mere few seconds.

Tony immediately shook his head, fingers anxiously scratching at the thin facial hair that lined his chin and upper lip, "Absolutely not, it's too dangerous.”

She gave him a deadpan stare, "How is this any different from what I've done in the past? I’ve gotten knocked out, broken bones, hell I even got shot a few times. Trust me I’m a big girl, I can handle a little shadowing without issue."

“That’s exactly my point, you’re better off here. You need to distance yourself from Rogers and get closer to Barnes. Give me something, anything with him because you’ve given me nothing but a distribution list and to be frank that’s nowhere near enough to prosecute shit.” Tony refused to look at her, hiding the true reason he wouldn’t let her go. This was too personal for him to give it to anyone but himself and he didn’t want to admit it was because he worried for her safety. He knew these men more than he was letting on. But she didn't know that. Not now, not ever if possible. 

Rose gritted her teeth at the insult to her ego, she wasn’t used to disappointing Stark while on a case as important as this one and certainly not with her level of experience, “I’m trying my best alright? Don’t forget I’m playing two different people here. I can’t be in two places at once. The minute either of them find out I’m the same person it’ll start a full on possession war between them and then what? Oh yeah, we’re fucked. Now give me the real reason you won’t let me investigate this and don't bullshit me on this. You've been fidgety and paranoid since I handed that list to you.”

Tony was almost to his limit with her bullshit, chewing at his bottom lip till he tasted the iron substance on his tongue, "Because I said no Rose. End of story." 

Rose was begging almost on her hands and knees at this point, "Chief pl-"

Tony threw the coffee mug he was holding against the back wall, coffee and glass splattering everywhere, "For once in your fucking life will you listen and do what you're told?" 

That shook Rose almost as far as her core. Stark had never acted out that way towards her or anyone for that matter before even with her constant annoyances. This side of him frightened her, her body shaking from the panic that rose from the archives of her body. Something that hasn’t been around since she was a child.

Rose sat there in stunned silence as Stark breathed heavily, head hung low in shame and boiling rage, “Just go Rose. Please.”

She gave a simple nod, trying not to let her body collapse beneath her as she walked out of the office. The commotion had echoed throughout the whole building, turning everyone’s eyes towards her hunched figure as she made it to the main floor. Their eyes burned holes in her, building scenarios that could've led to such an outrage from the composed chief. Especially towards his star detective.

Martin saw how she shrunk within herself, holding onto her arms anxiously as she walked by silently. He's only seen her like this when she first came into vice, shiny and untouched like a newly released action figure. Now that simply wouldn’t do for him though, he wanted to make her squirm.

“Awh did daddy yell at his babygirl? You gonna go cry to one of your boy toys about it? Maybe they’ll fuck you better if you ask nicely.”

Rose didn't say anything sarcastic back to his nasty remark. She didn’t say anything at all. Not even an eye in his direction. She breezed through him as if he was a leaf blowing in the wind beside her. Her mind reminiscing in the old emotions that began to pick at her, bringing back memories she wanted to keep locked up for the rest of eternity. 

"Don't look at me like that sweetheart you know you did wrong. You know you should've listened like a good fucking girl but what did you do? What the fuck did you do Rose?!"

Stark held the same anger as her dad did that day. The day she left the house without permission to go play with a new friend she had made at school that day. One of the few people who weren't aware of her home life and was allowed to play with her. But like the others, that didn't last long. No one wanted to play with the girl who was in a broken home with parents who cared more about their next fix than their child. Where violence was a form of love and the shattering of glass was music. Who would allow their child to be around that life. No one. 

Rose's senses dimmed from her emotional state, barely feeling the watchful eyes target her as she left the building, following her every step around the bustling city. She finally noticed something was off when she stopped at one of the crosswalks. The air had shifted to a heavy dread. She felt the culprit lurking quietly around every corner she turned, hidden in shadows and alleyways. If she wasn't used to being followed from past cases she'd be paranoid to the point of a breakdown by now. It was an expectation while in the field. What Rose didn't expect was to find Sam Wilson lounging on her couch with a glass of scotch when she entered her apartment.

She had her .38 revolver pointed towards the shadowed figure on the couch within seconds of hearing the ice clink. Her finger toyed with the trigger, hearing the satisfying click as she pushed the hammer down. The noise caught the figure’s attention as well, raising their glass in mock surrender.

"No need for the dramatics. Just came for a drink is all." 

The figure pulled at the cord of the lamp in the corner beside them, revealing Sam Wilson, eyes in a continuous blank stare as he inspected her.

She lowered the gun, placing it back in the holster under her blouse. She carried whenever the opportunity allowed it. Stark's orders rather than her own. She wasn't trained to fight only to rely on a piece of metal that misfired more than she could count on.  

Rose made herself a well deserved drink, nearly spilling the liquid all over the counter as her hands still shook from the incident with Stark. She sipped at the liquid for a moment, helping her nerves calm enough to try to assess the unexpected situation at hand now. If Sam was the one watching her then most likely he saw her come out of the station and tapped into her phone lines like Stark had predicted at the case briefing. God only knows what else he’s messed with in her apartment. Not to mention what he might have already told James.

Irritated at the thought of losing her only sense of privacy and lead in the case, she turned sharply, pounding the rest of the liquor down in a large gulp. Her hand slammed the glass on the counter top earning a less than impressed glance from the intruder, “Let’s cut to the chase, did James send you to spy on me?”

Sam ignored her question, eyes focused back on the amber liquid in the crystal container he held, “Enlighten me Rose, what is a young woman such as yourself doing with a weapon like that?”

She put on a neutral face as she held the urge to tap along the countertop, a clear sign of nervousness, “Protection.”

Sam shook his head, displeased with her response. He stood from his spot on the couch, glass still untouched, approaching her at the counter with a pointed finger, “Statistically, women tend to carry smaller weapons, like pocket knives, pepper spray, nothing lethal. Not unless trained that is. You see, I know a lot of things Rose, and I know for certain that only cops are allowed to carry those guns. So what are you doing with it?”

Rose visibly gulped involuntarily, the hole she had stepped in had gotten bigger beneath her, “It was originally my grandfather’s. He passed it down to me after he retired from the force.” 

She wasn’t fully lying, her grandfather did serve but not on the police force. He served in the military, becoming one of the first founders of shield from what she was told. But that’s as much as she was allowed to know. Her grandfather was a very private man, especially when it came to his past.

"That why you became a cop? Follow in his legendary footsteps?" His eyes locked on hers as he sipped on his drink.

Not fully. The real reason was her hatred for the drugs that took over her life. The people who deal it out like a pack of candy, not a care given on the consequences. She couldn't let people like that get away, living the rich life while their customers lost everything, "That's the reason why I never could become a cop, to become like him. That job was his life till he was on his deathbed. I don't want to live that way, no one should."

Sam gave another shake of his head, seeming to be having a mental struggle with himself. He wasn’t happy with the results he was getting from this conversation, he didn’t want to tiptoe anymore, “How do you know Natasha Romanoff? You two seem rather acquainted.” 

There was no point in covering that secret up, she knew he had listened to her conversation earlier, “She’s my boss.”

Sam’s brows raised, eyes glazing at the multiple possibilities of her position with the ex-spy, “For?”

Rose clenched her jaw, her fingers aching from her grip along the countertop, “I work at the club when she needs someone. Speaking of which, I need to get my afternoon nap in before it’s too late and I get no sleep for the next 8 hours so if this interrogation is over then you can get the fuck out of my apartment.”

A deep rumble released from Sam’s chest, the closest noise to a laugh she’d probably hear from him, “I see why he wants you so much now.”

“Because he’s a controlling asshole who can’t take no for an answer? Because he can’t accept the fact that someone is happy and he isn’t? The list I assure you goes on for a very long time.”

Sam released another attempt at a chuckle from the venomous sting you leave in your words, “In a way yes. You challenge him to the point it drives him crazy. That sort of feeling becomes addictive to someone like him. Better watch yourself."

"He'll learn to sober up."

Sam had finished his drink by now, delicately placing the glass besides yours on the counter. 

"I meant it when I said watch yourself Rose. James is a man you don't want to toy with. He doesn't discriminate against women, Natasha knows that from experience. You don't want to be next."

If that wasn't a threat then Rose didn't know what was, "It's not polite to threaten a woman Mr. Wilson."

"Then it's a good thing you're no ordinary woman."

Rose could see Natasha was on edge when she found her inside the club dressing room, watching protectively from the doorway. It took the impossible to bother Natasha but something had scared her. Or someone. 

"He doesn't discriminate against women, Natasha knows that from experience."

Rose could only imagine what he could've done to cause such an effect on her. She struggled to pull away from the image of Natasha getting her face bashed in, blood pooling from her broken nose and eye socket. 

The hand on her, rubbed fondly against the top of her thigh as she rested in her companion's lap, enjoying a glass of champagne as she listened to him talk. His sokovian accented voice was pleasant to her ears, complimenting her whenever the chance was given.

"You seem so miserable here, let me take you away my darling. I can cherish you the way you deserve."

Helmut Zemo, a brilliant and very rich nobleman. Known for being the son of Heinrich Zemo, the man who aided the enemy of the war. He was one of Rose's first returning clients, gifting her with many beautiful pieces of jewelry whenever he paid a visit. One of the few she tolerated, dare even say was fond of.

"Oh don't tease me Zemo, it's too cruel." Rose patted a hand on his chest, shifting on his lap as his arm tightened on her. 

"You know I don't tease when I'm with you. I mean every word. Please, let me take care of you." Zemo's fingers danced along the sapphire necklace he bought that adorned Rose's neck as he gazed up at her. His eyes held truth and affection.

The offer was more than tempting if not for her morals. To live in a life of luxury and carefree moments filled with expensive drinks and clothes. But he was still a bad man, one who’s had his fair share of crimes and far from who Rose would ever become.

“Zemo-”

The bang of the main door opening startled her, shattering the glass onto the decorative carpet, and the men around her forced the room to go abruptly silent. Eyes followed each other to land on an angry James Barnes. Jaw tensed, fist white and bruised darkly along the knuckles. His face was lined with the same color, traveling from his eye to his cheek.

"What the fuck you all looking at?!" He growled, slamming a fist along the bar counter. 

Everyone's attention turned back to their company, not daring to take another glance at the ex super soldier. Rose however remained her eyes on him as he slowly became aware she was among the crowd but he didn't move from his seat. He just stared mindlessly at her. So Rose had an idea. A very dangerous one.

She turned back to Zemo who sat unamused by the angered display, her lips brushing his ear, "Tell me my love, if I agreed to go with you tonight, how would you spoil me?" 

She felt him shiver under her touch as she placed kisses along the curve of his neck down to his collarbone. The pulse of his vein quickened beneath her lips,

"First I'd take you back to Sokovia, show you around your new home." His voice was almost completely steady if the edge that laced it didn’t completely give away that he was internally unwinding at her touch.

Her eyes trailed back up to James over Zemo's shoulder as she kissed back up to his ear, "And then? I need a little more convincing than that." 

The mindless staring was morphing into possessive jealousy, his breathing had picked up again in an animalistic pant as he watched her challenge him. She was surprised that the glass in his hand hadn’t completely shattered beneath the death grip he held.

Zemo caught the bottom of her chin, pulling her face to line up with his, "And then I'll give you the world. Anything you want you shall have it. My life, my money and myself is yours, just say the words my darling." 

Rose was internally screaming. How come it's the bad ones that are so charming?

The sound of a gun clicking next to her head broke her out of the fogged daze that was beginning to consume her, "Over your dead body pal." 

There he was in all his glory, the rotten beast she was after. Rose internally smirked at the animalistic dominance he was radiating. His body ready to pounce what he viewed as the weaker link to the mate he desired to have. How calm he appeared but eyes screaming, daring for him to make an attempt at taking her. 

Zemo’s composure didn’t falter, calm and collected with a hint of polite sarcasm lacing his tone, "There's no need to be impolite, friend."

The glint of the metal shined out of the corner of her eye. The hand hidden besides her leg was locked and loaded, aimed for James's looming figure. This incident gave him an excuse to kill James Barnes right there. One of the leading men that aided in killing his father during the war. Steve Rogers was more so his main target but he was willing to be a step ahead and take one over nothing right then and there.

Not wanting a mess on everyone's hand, especially her own, she didn’t need another table full of reports to fill out on her hands. So, Rose placed a hand against Zemo's chest grabbing his attention with a soft smile, "It's alright Zemo, I'll see you when you get back from Sokovia."

Zemo nodded in understanding, placing a delicate kiss to the back of her hand as she stood from his lap, "Till then my darling." 

Her focus shifted to James, her eyes screaming angrily to follow her and for once he did it with no further complaint, not to her at least. Just a wave of his gun and a snippy comment in a language she wasn’t familiar with. Zemo sent back a hasty response earning only a snicker from James.

The remnants of her glass crunched beneath her heels, the sound tingled her senses, becoming more aware of the man following behind her. How he hovered over her protectively, hiding her from the eyes that dared to follow them. The vibranium hand rested along her back, the cold vibrations traveling up her spine to the back of her head causing a slight chatter on her teeth. How he could deal with the constant hum against him without issue baffled her. Must’ve taken a long time to grow used to.

Rose twirled around in her heels to face him. Never keep your back to a predator, stay calm and watch without eye contact. She held an irritable but playful smirk, noticing he never left more than a foot of room between them, his body towering over her’s, "So why all the fuss? Don't get me wrong, that little show was cute but very unnecessary. All you had to say was please." 

His hands dragged up her arms, nails gliding against her skin leaving goosebumps in their path, "It's like coming home from a bad day of work to find your wife fucking the pool boy. I don't like to share my toys."

The sensation brought that emotion she passionately hated back. The one she only had with him. It was desireful, dangerous and greedy. She wanted him to explore the crevices of her but beat the cocky smirk off his face at the same time. Watch him bleed like he did to Natasha, like he wanted to do to the real Rose. A sensational gory battle that she couldn’t win.

Her eyes dared to meet his, uncertainty caving in as her body was reacting to him against her wishes, "Thankfully I'm no toy, especially not yours Mr. Barnes ." 

He bit his lip as she rolled his name from her spiteful tongue. He wanted to nip at it till it bled, taste the iron as he devoured every part of her. The thought was both blissful and enraging, "See, that's where you're wrong doll."

He didn’t need to hold her in place as he nudged her nose with his lips, teasing her’s with a simple brush. He knew he had her. She could deny and hide behind a confident cover all she wanted to but he knew the truth. By the way she sensed his presence in the room without needing to look. How captivating he was to her despite his cocky demeanor. How her breath hitched as his teeth dug into her bottom lip while his eyes pierced into her, watching the barrier she built crumble in her hands. 

“You’ve been mine since you walked into the room that night and there’s not a single person who will tell me otherwise. You’re caving beneath my touch as we speak. You’ve lost. Now all you have to do is completely give in.”

Rose felt like she was slowly drowning. James’s hands pulling her further and further under the shimmering surface as all the air within her vanished, bubbling above her. Words barely formed as his nips trailed down her collarbone, his hand gripping possessively at her throat, gently squeezing at her quiet response, “Never.”

A dark chuckle left his lips, “But you already have.”

Part 8

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