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jtargaryen18 · 8 months

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His Inheritance ~ Chapter 31

Part 31: Girl on Fire

Series Masterlist

Words: 6.7k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mafia, reference to violence and violent acts, references to sexual violence. Strong language, dismemberment, and physical violence. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Bucky’s phone rang, it didn’t surprise him. When he saw Kat’s number… They didn’t have plans tonight. Why the hell was she calling?

“Hello,” Bucky said, pausing the cage match he’d been watching.

“Bucky?” Kat sniffled, tears in her voice.

“Yes?”

“I’m at the hospital,” she said, clearing trying not to sob.

“Have you been hurt?” he asked, pulling the lever to sit up in his recliner. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s my sister, Paulina.”

Ah. “What happened?”

“She’s unconscious,” Kat managed. “I don’t know what happened. But neither of us have insurance…”

Neither of them was legal residents of the US either. Bucky sighed.

“I’ll send someone down there,” he told her, ready to get back to his fight. Before his hand reached the lever on his chair, she started sobbing in earnest.

“Please,” Kat begged him. “Will you come down here?”

Kat wasn’t usually so needy. Usually, she stuck to their agreement. Something had her shaken up.

“Give me a few minutes,” he said before hanging up. Shaking his head, he shot a text to his men telling them he needed the car ASAP.

Erik Killmonger was there in less than five minutes. He’d been a soldier for the Barnes family for the last five years. The entire time, he’d handled the tasks that he was given. He never failed, followed orders to a fault, and was always quiet and respectful, Bucky’s three favorite qualities in a soldier.

Erik’s ambition had been obvious from the beginning. It was in the confident way he walked, the efficient way he took care of business. It was there when he asked Bucky if he could serve him personally. Since then, he had Erik reporting directly to Hansen, and he showed the same respect to him.

The two men were comparable in their abilities, evenly matched when it came to killing a man. But where Hansen liked to put on a show and preen around, psychologically breaking down his prey, Erik was silently lethal. Bucky had to wonder if half of the men he’d sent him to kill even saw him coming.

Now that Hansen was wherever the fuck Hansen was, Bucky didn’t believe for a fucking minute the bastard was dead, Erik was his top lieutenant. Maybe he should have been all along.

He’d put the man in charge of finding Hansen. Erik knew him better than he did. Bucky’s only request was that Hansen be brought in alive. Bucky wanted to kill the fucker himself. The betrayal signed his death warrant. The fact that Hansen thought he was going to just make off with the woman Bucky coveted, the bright jewel in the crown he'd soon wear... Bucky was just sorry he could only kill him once.

“Where we off to?” Erik asked, ready to go.

“The hospital,” Bucky said, following him out to the garage. “Kat’s sister is there. I don’t know what happened yet.”

Erik held the door open for Bucky to climb in the back of the huge SUV. Walking around, Erik took a seat in the front next to the driver.

Bucky caught Zemo’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “We’re going to the hospital. St. Agnes," he told him.

When they reached the hospital, pulling up to the door at the ER, Zemo again met his gaze in the mirror. “Should you be going in there, boss?” he asked respectfully.

“He can go wherever he wants,” Erik said, opening his door. “Nothing’s going to happen to him.”

Damn right. Very soon, Bucky would be the goddamn king of Boston.

He waited while Erik inquired about Paulina, speaking to the older woman at the emergency room desk. His man led him past the desk, swiftly through a maze of corridors until they found Paulina’s room. Kat looked grateful when they arrived, her dark eyes still shiny with tears when she opened the door.

Paulina lay in the hospital bed, curled in on her side. Her hair was a wild tangle around her head and her face was streaked with makeup and tears.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, moving to stand at the foot of the hospital bed. Erik closed the door, staying close to it.

“We went shopping,” Kat explained in her tear-filled voice. “Our car dropped her off first at her apartment building. And then… I w-went home.”

“So she was attacked in her apartment?” Bucky asked.

“I didn’t see it happen,” Kat went on. “But she didn’t make it into her apartment. Someone found her in the hallway… One of her neighbors called an a-ambulance.”

Great. More people in his business.

“My number was the emergency contact on her phone,” Kat went on. “They called me.”

“I’m sorry this happened, Kat,” Bucky said, his patience slipping. “But you didn’t need me to come down here to pay the bill.”

“What if this wasn’t random?” Kat asked.

“What else would it be?” he countered.

“Steve,” she said. “I think Steve is behind this.”

Bucky shook his head. “Why would you think Steve had anything to do with this?”’

“Why?” Kat threw her hands up. “Isn’t it obvious? With everything you’ve done to him? With you taking me away from him? He’s hitting back.”

That had Bucky chuckling. Yeah, he’d put Rogers through some things. And it wouldn’t be long until he finished Rogers, put him and his fucking family down and took the lead that should have been his when the old boss died.

“Yeah, he’ll try.” Bucky stared her down. “But what does that have to do with you and your sister? I didn’t take you away from him. You were all over me when he threw you off to get married if I remember correctly.”

Kat looked affronted. “You took me away from him. Paulina? She was seeing his consigliere.”

“Still not seeing a connection,” Bucky told her, ready to end the conversation.

Ready to end things with her period. Pretty soon, he wouldn’t need Kat.

“Banner betrayed him,” she said. “Maybe that’s why they went after Paulina.”

It was plausible. But why hit his family there? As Kat pointed out, Paulina had been Banner’s side piece. Banner was out of the Rogers’ family and no longer any use to the Barnes family. Honestly, Banner was lucky Rogers let him live. But messing with Banner’s mistress after the fact? It didn’t make sense.

It wasn’t Rogers’ style.

That reminded him. Banner had been laying low on Stark’s turf after Rogers ousted him. Then he’d disappeared. Bucky made a mental note to follow up on that.

“Did anyone see who did it?” Erik asked. “Did the neighbor see anything?”

“No,” Kat told them. “They just found her. Beaten… Don’t you understand? She wasn’t robbed or violated or anything else. Just beaten. To hurt her was the point. What else could it be? Am I next?”

Bucky moved closer to Kat, taking her chin in his fingers. She trembled in his grasp, and he knew she was scared. He wanted her to be.

“Pain and death are always the point,” Bucky whispered, gazing into her eyes. “But Steve’s not after you, Katerina. He’s not after you sister.”

Releasing her, he watched indignation and hurt bleed into her expression.

“When Rogers strikes at me,” he explained, “he’ll make it hurt. He’ll make it personal.”

“This is personal,” her voice was rising. “This does hurt.”

“You and your sister maybe,” Bucky told her. “It’s not personal for me. It doesn’t hurt. I’d have to care about you and your sister for this to hurt me and I don’t.”

Tears slid from her eyes now. “You’re wrong.”

Bucky moved closer to the woman on the bed. Her makeup was a mess but on closer inspection, there were no cuts on her face. There could be bruises under the makeup, he supposed. Pulling back a tangled section of her hair revealed her throat. No bruises there or any injuries at all.

Kat said she was beaten. Were they fucking with him?

Grabbing the edge of the blanket covering the woman, he pulled it back to reveal her unconscious form covered by a thin hospital gown with shorter sleeves. He half-expected her arms and the rest of her to be unmarked as well. He was all ready to flip shit on Kat and her sister for wasting his time.

Paulina’s arm? That was a different story. The bruises were red and angry, lacing up from her forearm like macabre artwork. The gown opened at the back, and she lay on her side facing him. Throwing the blanket back, he leaned over to look at the woman’s back. A wild patch of pink and red marks covered most of it. The one contusion right where her kidney was? That had him wincing.

Tomorrow, her skin would be purple, black, and blue and she’d be feeling it. Shaking his head, he pulled the blanket away from the rest of her. More evidence of the beating she’d taken over thighs and upper shins. Nothing close to the ankle…

Kat, still lost in her indignation, glared at him as she grabbed the blanket to cover her sister up again.

“Still think this is random?” she asked, still swiping away tears.

Bucky shrugged as he headed for the door. “I’ll handle the billing,” he said over his shoulder as he walked out.

The entire situation should have left his mind never to return the minute he was back in his car and headed home. Bucky just couldn’t get his mind off it. It was just so off. Why was it done? What did it mean?

Was it a message for him?

***

After finishing his run, Bucky headed for his study to check messages before getting a shower.

“Bucky?”

He jumped at how off-guard she’d caught him. There Kat stood in the door of his study, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Her big dark eyes were on him, a shiny red shopping bag dangling from her manicured fingers.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked irritably. He didn’t like her coming by his house uninvited. She knew that.

“I’m sorry.” She looked it.

As he stood watching her, a sweaty mess behind his desk, she meekly approached him. Stopping on the other side of his desk, she carefully placed the bag on the top of his desk between them.

“It’s for you,” she said forlornly. “Thank you for helping Paulina.”

Blowing out an exhale, he looked at the bag. “She out of the hospital yet?”

Kat nodded. “She’s home. Resting. I’m staying with her since we don’t know who did this… or why.”

Bucky hated wasting the manpower but in the off-chance Kat was right… “I’ll send someone to keep an eye on her place for the next couple of days, okay?”

“And mine?” she asked, flashing him a smile.

“You said you were staying with her,” he pointed out. “You stay with her, someone’s looking after you too.”

The smile faded and he couldn’t even feel badly about it. Kat was one of many. He’d had women who were more beautiful, better in bed. She wasn’t unique. She wouldn’t even be memorable.

And she’d served her purpose a long time ago. He took up with her to piss off Steve, to hurt his wife. While Rogers had been pissed and insulted that Bucky brought his former mistress to his wedding, he hadn’t succeeded in his second objective. The new Mrs. Rogers hadn’t been hurt.

No, the daughter of the old boss and the new bride of his enemy had turned out to be a lioness.

Think of that. The girl had been hidden away like Quasimodo in his bell tower, mutilated and not fit for society. That was what he’d always been told about the old boss’s surviving child. His bitch wife, who’d ripped Bucky’s family apart by having an affair with his father, died trying to get out and killed the man’s son. The daughter was never supposed to be anything for Bucky Barnes to be concerned with.

Even so, Bucky hated her. He’d been glad she was disfigured, glad she’d never be out in the world. He’d even toyed around with the idea of paying her a visit once her father died. Taking care of the disfigured little lamb once and for all.

Rogers had executed his plan well. That he was kissing ass to claim the crown, Bucky got that. He had no idea, however, that Rogers planned to marry the boss's daughter who was supposed to be horribly disfigured. Within a week of her father dying, Bucky gets word that she’s engaged to Rogers and the wedding Is being rushed.

When he went to confront Rogers about it, he was surprised to find her alone and barely dressed in the kitchen. She was uncovered enough for him to see there wasn’t likely a scar or blemish on her. She was amazingly beautiful wearing her whore mother’s face with innocent eyes. That first impression of her had him both hard as a rock and ready to commit murder, right there in Rogers’ kitchen.

Rogers knew what he was doing. He didn’t care who she was, that her mother destroyed the Barnes family. Rogers didn’t care about anything but the throne and it was then Bucky decided he’d do whatever it took to take Rogers’ crown, to take him and his bitch wife out.

But he couldn't get her out of his head. Not once he saw her.

Bucky had assumed for most of his life that Mrs. Rogers was his half-sister. The daughter of his father. After meeting her, he looked into it, knowing her father would have had a paternity test done under the circumstances. With a little patience and a lot of money, Bucky had an answer.

Mrs. Rogers was not related to him by blood. The old boss was her father after all.

By the time he figured this out, Bucky had found his attitude toward Mrs. Rogers shifting. Yeah, he could kill her when he destroyed her husband. No one would be surprised or even blame him.

But he’d never met a woman like her. There was a fire, an iron will, buried beneath the persona. Mrs. Rogers was stunning, beautiful. But according to Loguidice, Rogers’ bride wasn’t just a pretty face. There was a beast in her heart. The lioness could handle her husband, win his men’s loyalty, and even fucking shoot Lloyd Hansen which had been hilarious when his lieutenant had to explain it to him.

And she would be Bucky’s at the end of this. It was going to happen.

Glancing at his current mistress, he knew it was past time to end things. But he’d wait until Paulina had mended. Make sure nothing else was heard about that little incident. Then he’d drop the hammer.

“Do you really care so little about me?” Kat asked him, pulling him from his thoughts.

It wasn’t a bad acting job. Bucky smiled.

“Do we really care about each other?” he wanted to know. “Relationships aren’t based solely on love. That’s the movies. Relationships are based on mutual need. You need someone to give you money to maintain your lifestyle and I need sex and occasionally some arm candy. Don’t make this something more than it really is.”

Hooking a finger in the bag, he peeked into it to see a wad of tissue paper.

Kat watched him expectantly.

Grabbing the bag, he pulled out whatever she had wrapped in that tissue paper. It felt odd in his hand, more than one thing. The first thing he encountered was a small jewel box. Setting the rest down, he opened that to see a set of ruby cufflinks winking up at him from the black velvet.

He had to give her credit. She knew his tastes.

“These are nice,” he told her with a grin. “Thank you… What else do we have here?”

Kat’s brow creased as she watched him pick up the wad of tissue still in front of him.

“There was nothing else,” she said, looking confused.

But there was something else. Peeling away the tissue paper, Bucky stared at the fucking fingers – five human fingers – he held in his hands. In disgust, he dropped them onto the desk as Kat covered her mouth with her hand, backing away in horror.

“What the fuck?” he demanded, staring at those digits.

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I didn’t do that. I didn’t… I feel sick.”

Kat dashed from his study like the devil was chasing her as Bucky muscled his way past the revulsion to study those digits. The fingers of a white man, toughened from work. There was no blood. No rings. No scars or other identifying marks.

Grabbing the bag, Bucky looked to see if there was something else. There was. A business card for a donut shop on Rogers’ turf. He recognized the name of the shop.

Fuck.

Bucky hadn’t ordered a hit on that shop or the girl. No, that was all Hansen who took the girl that worked there. Bucky hadn’t known a thing about it until after Rogers’ faceoff against Hansen who had since disappeared.

Bucky studied the fingers again. Were they Hansen’s? He didn’t think so. Hansen had big hands, he didn’t remember the fingers being slender.

Well, they’d find out.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he shot a text to Erik to come right away.

Now he wondered if the attack on Paulina was related. Was it tied to this? Was there more to come?

It would make sense if it was Rogers. But Rogers wasn’t usually so theatrical. He’d hit hard, head on. Anyone who was at odds with him always saw him coming. In his defense, he always hit really fucking hard.

This? It was puzzling. And not Rogers’ style at all.

What game was he unwittingly playing? And with whom?

***

The tap at the door pulled Bucky away from trying to catch up on his investment portfolio, sheets scattered all over his normally immaculate desk. His mind wasn’t on it. He’d been pretending to look at the numbers for damn near an hour.

Erik looked as tired as Bucky felt. He was hoping his lieutenant had some news for him. The episode earlier with Kat and the dead man’s fingers still had him rattled.

“Found out who those fingers belonged to,” Erik got right into it. “Belonged to one of Hansen’s men. One of our guys found the rest of him in a dumpster on your turf. The prints matched.”

Bucky nodded. Hansen likely had the guy pick up the donut shop girl for him. And the ax fell on him because they didn’t get Hansen. Bucky nodded. It was something he’d do.

The donut shop girl. What did she know, if anything, about everything going on? Maybe he should chat with her.

“Hansen’s still alive,” Buck said flatly.

Erik nodded. “There’s no proof he’s not.”

“Anything else?”

His man’s dark-eyed gaze met his. “I sent men looking for Banner, but it looks like he skipped town.”

A wise move on the man’s part.

“You don’t think he targeted Paulina, do you?” Erik asked.

Bucky shook his head. “Not with that temper of his. If Banner decided to do that, she would know it was him. He’d make sure she knew it was him.”

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Bucky leaned back in his office chair, tried to relax. To think. “Any word on Rogers?”

“You knew Hansen and Frankenstein grabbed Dyson to draw Rogers out,” Erik said.

“Frankenstein?” Bucky asked.

“Neal Logiudice,” Erik explained. “Pop some bolts on his neck and he looks like Frankenstein.”

Bucky snorted. He could see that.

“Then he was supposed to off Dyson and Logiudice,” Erik continued. “Grab Rogers if he could. Hansen changed the plan. He drew Mrs. Rogers out instead of her husband.”

Bucky was still furious about what happened. Dyson would never betray Rogers and Logiudice was collateral damage. The move was meant to break Rogers down. Dyson’s loss on top of Logiudice’s betrayal would demoralize him. Bucky thought it might just finally finish his rival off.

Instead, Mrs. Rogers showed up, playing right into Hansen’s hand. Then her husband showed up and he brought friends. A shootout ensued. Rogers, his wife, and Dyson made it out. So did Hansen and Logiudice, apparently. And Bucky was out several men. Several good men.

“Does anyone know?” Bucky pressed. “Was Rogers shot?”

“Most likely,” Erik told him. “There’s different versions of the story. Some say he got shot. Some say Dyson got shot. Other say Mrs. Rogers was shot to protect Dyson and Rogers got shot trying to shield her.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky blew out an exhale. Needless to say, whoever did or didn’t get shot in Hansen’s grand fuckup was a moot point. Rogers was fine. He’d apparently had enough of Bucky fucking him and now he was firing back at the Barnes’ family.

There was nothing altruistic about their chosen business. You were either a ruthless bastard or dead. Back when they were both younger and coming up under their fathers’ wings, Steve Rogers had been a cocky, dangerous bastard and Bucky always hated all the attention he got. How Rogers always got away with everything.

Bucky always knew that the minute his father was gone, the minute it was just him calling the shots, that Rogers would fail. Then he’d found another mentor in the former leader of the five families but that didn’t last, and he died too. Bucky just knew that without the mentorship of better men, Rogers wouldn’t make it on his own. He was one hell of a soldier, terrifying if he came after you. But a leader?

Still, something was different. So far Rogers had pulled himself out of the trap Bucky set for him with Hansen, sent him the fingers of one of Hansen’s men in Kat’s little gift bag, and maybe had someone beat the shit out of Paulina, Kat’s sister.

While Kat swore to him she had nothing to do with the fingers, Bucky wasn’t leaving anything to chance. He had her taken to her sister’s place and there she would stay under close watch. He didn’t think either woman had anything to do with whatever the fuck was going on. But he’d keep them under glass for now to make sure.

Rogers?

There was an underlying menace to sending Bucky the dead man’s fingers. It wasn’t just the barbarism of the act. It was multifaceted. It was Rogers letting Bucky know that he knew about the donut shop girl and exactly who abducted her. It was knowledge that she’d been taken under Bucky’s command even if it wasn’t his personal decision. It was accusatory and direct.

It left him feeling unsettled. Bucky had been so close to shutting Rogers down, to finally taking everything he wanted.

And now? Well, he sure as fuck couldn’t slow down now. He couldn’t let Rogers even the score.

“My Vinny’s gotten here yet?” Bucky asked. He’d sent out for food from his favorite restaurant. Vinny’s was the best Italian restaurant in all of Boston and the owner's brother was one of Bucky’s best soldiers.

“I’ll go check,” Erik said, heading off to do that.

It was only a few minutes later that Bucky had his takeout, enjoying it in his recliner while he took in an action movie he’d been wanting to watch. His meal didn’t disappoint. The veal was perfect, just what he’d wanted.

After he’d digested a few minutes, he took his dishes to the kitchen, ready for dessert. The tiramisu was in the fridge and Bucky grinned as he pulled it from its foam box to carefully place it on a plate. With a fresh glass of wine, he returned to his recliner and resumed the movie.

Bucky was two bites in when his fork hit something that felt unexpectedly solid in the layered dessert. Frowning, he worked at using his fork to grab the next bite. But something was wrong. Something was in there…

Taking a closer look, he found something solid in there. Plucking it at with his fingers, he found… meat?

He almost lost his meal to realize that something was the tip of a human ear.

“What the fuck?” Bucky said to himself, his heart starting to race in his chest.

Sitting up in the recliner, he kept digging through the dessert to find an earlobe, just as bloodless as the tip.

It was the dark eye staring up at him that from the bottom that had him screaming, fighting nausea as he slung it all away and sent it flying across the room.

“Fuck me! Fuck me!” he was shouting as Erik and Zemo both raced into the room to see who was killing their boss.

Covering his mouth with a hand, Bucky fled to the bathroom…

***

“I am so sorry,” Erik said for the hundredth time. “I looked in there, but I should have looked a lot closer.”

Soldiers were crawling his house, crawling the grounds. Zemo was at Vinny’s, no doubt tearing the restaurant apart. And he’d specifically requested that Zemo take Vinny’s brother with him. If there was a rat in his ranks or at the restaurant, heads would roll.

Bucky shook his head, sitting in his recliner with his elbows on his knees. He felt like shit. More body parts sent to him set his nerves on edge.

Was it Rogers? If so, he didn’t like the fact that his enemy was running up the score. That really pissed him off. His mind was spinning with the theories forming in his head.

“We’ll try to figure out who those…” Erik shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?” Bucky asked, rising from the recliner to glare at Erik. “That’s all I’ve been fucking doing the last three days. You know?”

Erik didn’t drop his gaze, didn’t back down. Bucky admired his quiet accountability.

But it wasn’t exclusively Erik’s fault. It was on all of them. Even him. No one had ever been able to get him directly. People around him, yes. But never him. Taking another drink of his Scotch, his mind spun webs with his instincts. He was starting to form a few ideas on his current situation.

“Boss,” Zemo called, walking into his living room.

Bucky spotted his man, standing a few feet away with a white takeout carton in his hands. He wasn’t going to like whatever was in the box, he knew from the way Zemo shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously.

“What is it?” Bucky asked, trying to be ready for anything.

“We went through Vinny’s, and we found this in Vinny’s office,” Zemo explained carefully. “It’s for you. Vinny swears he didn’t see who left it and he doesn’t know anything about it.”

“You believe him?” It was an honest question.

Zemo nodded.

Bucky motioned him forward, not looking forward to his latest surprise with the dark red stains at its bottom corners. He plucked the card off the top. It simply read, “Hint: It’s not Snow White’s.”

Bucky really shouldn’t have been surprised to find what appeared to be a human heart in that box. He really shouldn’t have. Once he started laughing, it was hard to quit. His laughter was manic, a stress response. Something he hadn’t done in years.

It’s not Snow White’s.

Erik looked concerned. “I’ll get on figuring out who that is,” he offered.

Laughing, Bucky sank back onto his recliner, still laughing as he set the carton on his end table like it didn’t have a human heart in it.

“I think… I might know who this is,” Bucky said when he caught his breath. “It’s not Snow White’s. What did the magic mirror tell the evil queen about the heart the huntsman delivered to her? The mirror said it was the heart of a pig.” Laughter threatened to halt his conversation as pieces of the puzzle started to slide together in his mind. “This is the heart of a pig.”

His men didn’t speak, looked like they had no idea what to say to that.

“This is making a little sense now,” Bucky told them. “Erik, you and Zemo stay. Everyone else, fuck off.”

The soldiers cleaning and checking everything cleared out fast while Erik and Zemo moved closer.

“Who do you think that is?” Erik asked.

“That?” Bucky pointed to the carton. “That’s the heart of a pig. I’ll be really fucking surprised if it’s not Bruce Banner.”

Zemo’s brows shot up. Neither man spoke.

“Kat was right,” Bucky said. “This is Rogers hitting back. But… it isn’t.”

Rising from the chair, Bucky started pacing. Both men watched him in silence.

“Think about each incident,” Bucky told them as he paced. “Paulina was attacked. Then the fingers, eyes and ears, now the heart. All of it’s personal. It’s very, very personal.”

“Personal?” Zemo asked.

That stopped Bucky. “Don’t you see? Paulina was Banner’s side piece. Someone did a number on her.”

“In a way that could be covered up,” Erik muttered.

“Yes!” Bucky pointed to him. “Exactly. Hold that thought… And now, here’s the cheating, deceitful pig’s heart.” He continued pacing. “The tiramisu? I think that must be Logiudice. He was my eyes and ears in the Rogers household.”

Understanding lit up Erik’s face. “What about the fingers? That guy?”

Bucky shook his head. “The guy Hansen sent to kidnap the donut shop girl isn’t the point.”

“What is the point, boss?” Zemo asked.

“Each of these messages were sent on Rogers’ behalf,” Bucky explained. “But I don’t think they are from the man himself. No, this is someone else… All three messages have one thing in common… A woman scorned.”

Erik nodded, listening. He was always quick on the take. Zemo still looked confused.

“Bruce Banner was married to Rogers’ sister, but she didn’t love him,” Bucky told them. “She loved her high school sweetheart, Clint Barton. Banner knew this. That's why he’d beat his wife where it didn’t show. It's why he shot Barton.”

“Then,” Bucky stopped in front of Zemo. “Hansen got away but I was sent the fingers of the man who took the girl from the donut shop by Hansen’s order. Hansen was my right-hand man. A reminder of the wrong done to that woman.”

“Explain Logiudice,” Erik said.

Bucky smirked at him. “Oh, I can. He betrayed Mrs. Rogers herself right before we grabbed Dyson. Her husband had restricted her to their bedroom he was so pissed..” An idea with merit.

“You think a woman gave these orders?” Zemo looked puzzled.

“Maybe,” Bucky muttered, as something occurred to him. “I need to talk to one of these women first.”

“Who?” Erik asked.

“I need you to find the girl from the donut shop,” Bucky told them. “I need to see if she knows anything we don’t before I make any decisions.”

***

Bucky was both surprised and pleased to see the girl waiting for him. The park this time of day was quiet with only one man walking his dog, and she was sitting on the bench by the giant sandbox, just as he instructed her.

When he walked around, she didn’t look up. Hell, she probably had no idea who he even was. He didn’t mind keeping it that way. There was no reason she needed to know anything else about their world. All she had to do was be nice, be cooperative, and he’d help her find her way out of his world.

Carefully, like he was trying not to frighten a doe, he sat a couple of feet away from her on the bench, setting the bookbag he brought with him between his feet.

She didn’t look up until he called her name and then, her eyes were wide in alarm. The lower half of her face was covered by a medical mask, maybe because of the flu going around. She’d made herself small, slouching on the bench with her hands folded on her knees.

He introduced himself just as Bucky, that was all she needed to know. Her cold hand was trembling when she shook his. He knew she was scared, and he didn’t intend to keep her long.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

She nodded, her gaze on the floor in front of her.

“I want to apologize to you for what happened,” he said without preamble. “The man who… While he was a soldier of mine, taking you wasn’t an order I gave. I know that doesn’t change a lot for you. But you should know that.”

Again, she just nodded.

“And I do want to help you,” Bucky said slowly, leaning a little closer to her. “I’ve brought you a substantial gift. Enough to help you get back on your feet and back to school somewhere else.”

“What do you want?” she asked quietly.

Bucky grinned. It was a smart question.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “There is something I want. I want to ask you a few questions about your time with him. Will you answer?”

She squeezed her eyes shut at the mention and guilt pricked at him. Hansen was a fucking weirdo, and he could only imagine what he might have done to her. It had him wishing he’d framed the question in a different way. But it was out now so…

“Do you know his name?” Bucky asked her.

“Lloyd,” she said. “Sir.”

Oh, he did not want to know about any of Lloyd’s kinks or hangups.

“He didn’t give you any other names?”

“No,” she said.

“Another man brought you to Lloyd’s house,” Bucky said quietly. “Did you see anyone else. Besides him and Lloyd, in your time there?”

The young woman shook her head.

“Tell me about the day you got out,” Bucky said.

She shrugged nervously. “A man broke down the door and helped me out,” she said. “That’s all.”

Bucky frowned. That didn’t sound right. “You didn’t hear a fight elsewhere in the house? The sound of bullets?”

After a moment, she nodded, still staring hard at the ground before them on the bench. “It was the day before. There was shouting and a fight. Guns…”

So no one found her until the next day. Bucky wasn’t happy about that. None of his men swept the house?

“Where did the other man take you once he got you out?” Bucky asked.

The young woman blew out a long sigh. “To a friend’s,” she said slowly.

He nodded. “I don’t need specifics. I just need to know if you ran into anyone else since you were taken. Did you ever leave his house until the guy got you out?”

She shook her head.

He hated to ask. “Did he let anyone else…”

“No,” she said quickly.

“All right,” Bucky said in a kinder tone. “What can you tell me about the guy who got you out?”

She was still for a moment, before shrugging. “Not much. I wasn’t… trying to look at him.”

“Did you see any women?” Bucky asked. “Any other younger women like yourself, about your size?“ Did she see Mrs. Rogers there?

“No,” she said after a moment. “Why?”

“Why what?” Bucky asked, giving her one last chance to tell him something useful before he handed her the bag of money and told her to get lost.

“Ask about other women?” she asked.

“I was just wondering if you'd seen someone I’m interested in,” Bucky said simply.

“Why are you interested in her?” the young woman asked.

“For many reasons,” Bucky told her as he rose from the bench. “For our purposes here, I’m curious about the part she played in the last few days.”

She sighed again but didn’t move as he stood above her.

Hauling the bookbag off the ground, he held it up for her. It was filled with money, a lot of it, hers for the taking.

“Take this and make a fresh start,” he told her. “But this talk didn't take place. You understand?”

Slowly, she stood, her head ducked making her smaller than him. With a hand, she reached to take the bag from him. She froze. Her hand gripped one of the straps, but she’d stopped moving.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I can’t…”

She couldn't take the money?

“I’ve got it,” another female voice came from behind him, with a Russian accent. Before he could turn to see who it was, he felt the blade pierce his clothing, pierce his skin before sliding into his flesh at his side. The fuck?

The pain didn’t subside when the blade was pulled free as he expected. The pain grew in intensity, spreading out from the wound.

Was the blade coated in poison?

The woman in front of him now held the backpack in one hand, pulling the mask from her face with the other. Bucky's pain was breathtaking and had him gasping as he dropped to his knees, gripping his side with his hand and listening to shouts from his men drawing closer.

Bucky stared up in pain and rage at the woman he now recognized as Mrs. Steve Rogers.

“You!” he managed. “You fucking bitch! You’re… You did this?!”

Her eyes were fierce on him. “I did,” she said.

"Evil bitch," he hissed.

"When all of you commit violence, you're protecting your family," she explained angrily. "When I commit violence, I'm an evil bitch."

His gaze darted to the backpack and back.

“And you’re taking the fucking money… too?”

Yelena Belova was there, trying to pull her away.

“I’m giving it to her,” she said as Belova pulled her away. “Just like you wanted.”

Bucky's mind was a mad whirl of thoughts as pain strengthened its grip on him. It was her. Not her husband. Did that mean...?

"Is Steve even alive?" he managed.

She held his gaze. "He is."

"He's not in good shape," Bucky shot back, hating how the pain rendered him unable to wring her neck. "He wouldn't let you... He's bad off if you..."

"We have to go," Belova urged her, grabbing Mrs. Rogers' arm and pulling her behind her in earnest.

“I’m… I'll get you!” Bucky promised, his vision fading to black at the edges. "I'll survive this... and I'll get you!"

"If you survive this," she called back, "Steve will get you."

Then she was gone and his men were there, crowding around him, their shouts fading as he let the darkness claim him.

@valsworldofcreativity @21stcenturywitchcraft @coconutqueen21 @bval-1 @caffiend-queen @sadlittlecountess @candy-and-writing @capsicle-shield @chaoticfiretaconerd @chrisevansgirl @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @coldmuffinbanditshoe @daughterofthenight117 @hv-chw3 @iheartsebstan @imanuglywombat @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @justrae9903 @lokislastlove @mariaenchanted @maxwelllee2020 @nekoannie-chan @nerdwholikesword @notyourtypicalrose @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @peaceinourtime82 @rainbowkisses31 @rayofdawnworld @richonne4life @rissysthoughts-blog @saiyanprincessswanie @scarletsoldier21-blog @shygirl-00 @supernaturaldean67 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @team-iron-wannabe-man @titty-teetee @tonib666 @villanellev @vitamingummies @what-is-your-plan-today @what-is-your-wish @xoxabs88xox @rosalynshields @naturalthrone22 @marvelovernfan @gotnofucks @eralen @kawairinrin @bluemusickid @geminievans1 @daughterofthenight117 @sunmoonandbuckyrecs @jesevans @kandis-mom @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @kmc1989

#His Inheritance #Bucky Barnes #Yelena Belova #Erik Killmonger #Zemo #Mafia AU #Mob Boss!Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x you

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hobbit-in-space · 7 days

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many thoughts

#loki fanart #mobius m mobius #mobius mcu #mobius #mobius fanart #helmut zemo #tva loki #loki laufeyson #loki #fanart #an au !!#consulting detective mobius

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wintereyed · 4 months

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Oh, dear diary, I met a boy

He made my doll heart light up with joy

#winterbaron #bucky barnes #helmut zemo #tfatws #the winter soldier #sebastian stan #daniel bruhl #bucky x zemo #peggy carter #wwii au #spy zemo #i love them your honor #i will never tire of this au #young n flirty bucky #im a baron james

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fleshtonyart · 7 months

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The King’s Favor(ite) ✨🎗️👑

Details under the cut

#winterbaron #art #bucky barnes #fanart #illustration #digital art #procreate #helmut zemo #knight au #au art #painting

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emptymidnight · 11 months

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Flying in with a little late birthday gift for @zsparz . Thank you for always being such a wonderful fandom cheerleader as well as a great friend. I hope you like it ♥️

#winterbaron #bucky x zemo #zemo #bucky barnes #wings au #fan art #my art #helmut zemo #digital illustration #art #illustration

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months

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In The Summertime 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, power imbalance, grooming behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father’s best friend gives you a job for the summer, but he’s not so interested in your work ethic.

Character: dbf!Helmut Zemo

Note: This just sits in my drafts.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The doorbell chirps and draws you from the reverie of your fictional paradise. You set the bookmark between the pages and put down the book, rounding the counter mindlessly as your thoughts linger on the fearless heroine’s next move. You don’t think about how late it is or that you can hear the kettle starting to quake. You’d almost forgot the very reason you’d ended up in the kitchen.

You open the door a crack and peek out. You smile and let it fall ajar.

“Dr. Zemo,” you greet, “how are you?”

“Oh, you’re back,” he says, “I’m very fine, my dear, I didn’t know you’d returned. How are you? How is school?”

“Yep! Came back for summer break. I’m doing okay. Catching up on some reading,” you answer, “my dad’s not here. He texted though, he should be back soon.”

“I’m sorry to disturb you so late, I can always come by tomorrow,” he assures, “I suppose I was overly eager. I get some thought in my mind and must see it through at the very moment.”

“You can wait for him,” you say as the kettle begins to whistle, “I was just making some tea if you want some.”

“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully, “perhaps I might before my purpose runs away from me.”

You step back and let him in. He is not a stranger to your father’s modest home. You watch him shed his blazer and hang it. He turns to you as he smooths the front of his sweater, a crisp collar peeking above the vee. You spin and lead him down the hallway.

“You still have classes, right?” you ask as you enter the kitchen and rush to turn off the burner, removing the screaming kettle.

“I do, but my summers are always slower,” he assures as he nears the island. You sense his shadow as you take out a second mug, “do you miss campus terribly?”

“Hmm, I suppose but it’s good to be back,” you say, “I think even dad would agree. Any particular tea you’re in the mood for?”

“It is late, perhaps a chamomile, something herbal,” he replies carelessly.

You take out your tin of teas and sort through, tearing open a packet and placing the bags in the cups. You go through the process of steeping and turn back as Zemo stands over your novel, flicking through the pages curiously.

“Oh, I was just reading,” you say bashfully.

“I usually see you carrying around Tolstoy,” he muses, “this is very different.”

“Just a book I was suggested,” you answer as you near and place the cup before him, “I think I’m all burnt out on history and lit right now.”

“No judgment, you know, Lovecraft is regarded as a great and he wrote quite peculiar fantasy,” he muses as he closes the book, “it is always a positive to broaden our horizons.”

He pulls the cup closer as you cradle yours between your palms. It’s been a while since you saw the doctor, your father’s oldest friend, and the indulger of your historical whimsy. Many of your books had once been his.

His brushes back the grey at his temples, some new silver laced over the top of his head. He looks older but not poorly for it. He always seemed entirely too sage and intelligent for you and even after a year of university, you feel inadequate.

“And you’ve just been teaching?” you ask.

“Mm, yes, and I did make my rounds at the conferences this year,” he replies as he traces the porcelain brim with his finger, steam coiling up from the tea, “I have a few this summer. I thought, now you are a fully-fledged scholar, you might… be interested? Or perhaps you’re life is much too exciting for me now.”

“Ha,” you scoff, “maybe. I’ll have to see. My dad says I have to get a summer job so I don’t know if I’ll have the time.”

“Then we will see,” he says smoothly as you hear the front door click.

“Sweet pea, I got you the grilled combo, they were all out of the tenders,” your father calls down the hallway before he appears. He winces as he sees Zemo but smiles nonetheless, “Hel,” he greets as he places the paper bags down, “I wasn’t expecting you–”

“Ah, yes, forgive me,” Zemo stands straight, “I had only a thought about the shelves in my office and thought to discuss it with you, my handy friend.”

“Mm,” your father rolls his eyes, “and it’s not about the vintage in my toolbox?”

“Oh, I have tea,” he lifts the mug, “I promise, I am not after the scotch. Not this time.”

“Here,” your father slides a paper bag in your direction, “I’ll take care of this pest.”

He takes his own bag and a cup from the tray.

“Thank you, dear,” Zemo takes his tea and sends you a smile, “have a good night and enjoy your book.”

“Thanks, Doctor, you too,” you reply as he follows your father.

“So what is it this time? I can’t perform miracles, man, you need to stop buying books…” your dad’s voice trails off and you chuckle.

The two of them are an unexpected pair; the professor and the carpenter, it would be a good buddy film if you had a hand for screenplays. You slide your book off the counter and grab your tea. Hopefully, you can finish the chapter before your eyes start to burn.

🌻

A lazy breeze flows in across the window sill. Sweat films over your face as the fan oscillates and blows over you, sprawled across your bed in a tee and shorts set decorated with purple petals. You woke up uncomfortable, sticky and stewing from the heat.

Your room in the attic is always the hottest or coldest in the house, but in your former teenage obstinance, you insisted on privacy and now your pride will not let you retreat. You languish in the temperature, the humidity thick as it seeps in, crawling over you. It should storm soon before the stranglehold gets too tight.

At last, you roll out of bed and tug on the front of the button up shirt to try to ease the trickle along your spine. You go to the window and pull it open with a great heave, grunting as the frame makes a similar noise. You peer down as a figure catches your eyes.

It's early, you glance at the old two handed clock on your round night table, but you always assumed Dr. Zemo never sleeps. He's unbothered by the heat as he stops on the walk and looks up at you, drawn by the grind of old wood. You wave at him and he lifts his free hand to return the gesture. He proceeds up the pavement and disappears below the eaves.

You groan and spin away. You need to get out of this room. You change into a pair of loose capris and a gingham blouse that knots over your belly button, just a hint of skin above the waist. You check yourself in the mirror, never very bothered by your bare face, and descend the creaky old stairs.

"I see you've been up all night about it," your father admonishes, his voice gristly with sleep. He's an old bear and hates early hours.

"Yes, well, I've been restless about the shelves," Zemo replies as you near the top of the second flight staircase, "so, is it feasible?"

"You need to let me wake up, Hel," your dad grumbles into a yawn, a great roar as you imagine him stretching, "I can't focus on your scribbles before my coffee."

"Yes, yes, you and your caffeine," Zemo intones, "it isn't very good for you, you know?"

"Thanks, mom," your father rebuffs dryly as you hear the lid of the machine clap down.

You carefully continue down the stairs and peek around the railing. Zemo stands by the island, toe tapping as his fingers play with the corner of a page. His leather folio lays open as the coffee machine makes noise.

You tiptoe down the hall and squeak, "good morning."

Zemo smiles as he peeks over at you as your dad stares down the coffee pot.

"Morning, sweet pea," your father mutters as you stop by the island, "you're up early."

"It's so hot," you say as you bask in the cool air of the lower floors.

"I told you the attic was a bad idea," your father attempts to resurrect that battle.

"Maybe," you shrug, in no mood for arguing, "what's this?"

You glance at Zemo's papers and he pulls his hands back to frame his sketches.

"My plans for my study. I never much use my guest room so I thought to expand it–"

"And pay me pennies," your father pours a mug, "con artist, this one."

"If you are too busy, just say the word and I will consider other prospects," Zemo challenges.

There's a brief silence before they laugh. The two of them always speak with a sense of chagrin. Two grumpy old men.

"Seems like a lot of work," you comment as you look closer.

"Mhmm," your father agrees, "a lot."

"Well," Zemo sighs and runs a hand up his lapel, "speaking of work, I have another proposition."

"There he goes," your dad crosses one arm over his stomach as he takes a gulp.

"As my study will be under construction, I shall need to relocate my work for the summer. As well, as I've made some commitment before this decision to throw all into chaos, I have much to do and would require some assistance."

"Gimme, gimme, gimme," your father scoffs.

"As I was saying," Zemo taps on the papers, "I require assistance and the position would look well for any aspiring historian–"

"Her?" Your father arches a brow at you.

"I heard she was in need of employment," Zemo says, "it would be mutually beneficial."

"So you say," your father counters, "dunno if she'd agree."

"Remind me not to accost you before your coffee again," Helmut mutters.

"Oh, I have no problem reminding you over and over," your father taunts, "well, sweet pea, it's entirely up to you."

"Uh," you're surprised by the offer.

It would be ideal to grilling burgers at the McDonald's or sorting flyers down at the newspaper. Still, as nice as Zemo is, it could be awkward. Him being your boss. He doesn't seem anything less than strict in his study and you're barely above a freshman.

"It isn't an urgent decision, dear," Zemo assures, "for the time, I am more concerned for my shelves–"

"The shelves," your father waves him off, "you're like a buzzing fly."

"Now, do not make me mention what debts are beholden to me," Zemo warns, "I could ask for worse things."

"And I'm sure you will," your father snorts as he stands straight, "I'm going to finish this outside. The sun makes you slightly more tolerable."

Your father goes to the patio doors and drags his feet outside. You smile awkwardly as Zemo closes his folio and scoops it up.

"Let me know when you've made up your mind," he says as he tucks the folder under his arm, "I always did wonder how you are that man's daughter. Such a stubborn… one."

You chuckle as you imagine what he truly meant to end with. He turns to follow your father and you go to the fridge to search out something cold. You can't think when you're this hot.

#helmut zemo #dark!helmut zemo #dark helmut zemo #series #helmut zemo x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #avengers #mcu #marvel #au #dbf #captain america

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mjolnirswriststrap · 27 days

Text

Silver Bullet

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Helmut Zemo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,670 Masterlist

Summary: The best night of the year, Halloween, turns into a night you just want to forget. PART 1/4.

Warnings: werewolves, cheating, backstabbing best friend, Zemo is a whore, truly.

Red cloaks filled the crowd. This years Halloween parade theme being Dracula. Rob Zombie blared through speakers anchored to lampposts. You and your friends all wore matching costumes, collectively going as the wives of Dracula. It was a good excuse to wear the hottest outfits you could find. Most people paled their skin with white face paint, and molded little pieces of wax to their teeth.

Not you, you wore basically nothing for your costume. Each friend had a different color of fabric, that was loosely draped and cinched around your body. The best way to describe it would be a Greek toga, instead of linen it’s sheer silk, leaving nothing to the imagination. You all wore the same gold collar, a dragon etched on the front; curtesy of the blue bride, Miranda’s, 3D printer.

You didn’t plan on staying, you all agreed to be a part of the parade, once that was over, you were all headed to Zemo’s annual Halloween masquerade. You don’t think he particularly liked having hundreds of people flooding his property every year. But having the biggest house in town was a blessing and a curse. He hosted most festivities for your rather large population of teens and young adults.

You had a fascination with the bachelor. He inherited the mansion, land and money from his grandfather, skipping over his father completely. His family was prominent in the community, both of his parents having a chair at city hall. They volunteered at the food bank and donated to every shelter. Any sane person would think they deserved the money in a way. So why Zemo?

You made it to the party late, everyone leaving the house for the back yard. Zemo had the trees lighted and a dance floor built, always prepared for a celebration. Your friends ditched you as soon as you all got drinks, saying they were going to find their boyfriends. Leaving you to explore the surrounding woods alone.

You nearly drop your red solo cup when you see Zemo pressing Miranda against a tree, practically swallowing each others faces. Tears of betrayal sting your cheeks. She knew you had a crush on him, and she has a boyfriend anyways. You stalk away in anger, losing the trail but not caring. You found a tree far enough from the party that no one would hear your sobs.

You downed the cup filled halfway with vodka, a drop of orange juice for flavor. It dried your tears quickly, leaving your whole body warm. “Stupid.” You say, standing up and brushing the leaves off your dress. “Stupid for liking Zemo.”. You agreed whole heartedly with that. “Stupid for thinking Miranda was my friend.” That’s what hurt the most.

In the midst of your self hate you failed to notice a looming figure. “You’re not stupid.” You jolt, throwing the plastic cup in the direction of the stranger. “Sorry, you scared me.” You giggle, when you see it’s just a guy from the party wearing a phantom of the opera mask.

“It’s okay.” He reaches down and picks up the liter. “Gotta keep our forests clean.” He waves the red in the air. You give him a dry laugh. Men are scary and being alone in the woods with a stranger was causing every alarm in your brain to siren. But the vodka numbed your sense of fear.

“I should get going.” You say, turning and trying to step around the tree. Before you could, the stranger steps closer. “Should you?” He says deeply. He’s close enough now that you can see his piercing blue eyes behind the mask. They render you speechless, the way the moonlight shone off them, put you in a trance. You shake your head, too focused to verbally answer him.

“See, you’re not so stupid after all.” He teases. You have no reaction. His words didn’t fill you with pride or embarrassment. Your veins filled with the distinct warmth of feeling safe. You don’t know where it came from, your body was irrationally reacting to him. You should be shaking with fear and trying to get back to the party, not calmly standing here waiting for something to happen.

It felt like you were locked inside a body that wasn’t yours. It was being controlled by some outside force. You let him reach for you, never flinching away. Your body produced goosebumps where his fingertips grazed your skin. “You’re so beautiful. I’d hate to ruin that.” You nod your head, not even thinking of a single way he could ruin your beauty. Your mind was blank, you couldn’t even say thank you.

“Promise me you won’t resist, once it happens.” You knew nothing of what he spoke, but again you feel your neck bow to him, nodding in agreement. The masked man looks up at the moon, reveling in its fullness. “Are you prepared for no return?” You agree with a nod, now you know you were fully possessed by something. His words should send you running, but a small voice in the back of your head says you would never.

He steps closer again, grabbing fistfuls of your gown, cinched at your waist. “You have to say it. Say I have permission.” His voice was desperate and darker than before. You try to find the words but the influence he had on you was slowly fading, the way he started pressing you against the tree brought you back to your senses. He holds your hips in place as he nuzzles his face into your neck, taking a long deep breath.

The stubble on his chin tickled you and you had to remind yourself yet again that this is a masked stranger in the woods. Even though your senses were coming back, the way his hands lit a fire inside of you was enough to make you not care. That fire pooled lower and lower the closer he got to you. He smelled like a mix of musk and pine. You couldn’t tell if it was him or the trees surrounding you. But it made your mouth water, filling you with a want to taste his skin, just to be sure.

He raises his hand to cradle your cheek, “Please.”. He caught your eyes again, boring into them with an assured look. He focuses on your lips “Just say the words.”.

“I give you permission.” You say them without thinking of the consequences. He sealed your fate by closing the gap between your faces. Pressing his lips to yours. You moved your lips in sync with his, using your free will to wrap your arms around his neck. Before it could go any further the man disappeared. You felt him pull away, when your eyes opened to see why, he was already gone. You searched the surrounding woods with your eyes, there was no sign of him.

You grab your head, wondering if you drunkenly hallucinated. The moisture on your mouth and in your underwear was foolproof evidence that it really just happened. But you still began to question its validity.

You hear a twig snap somewhere near you, in hopes that it was the magnetic stranger you followed it, rounding an old fallen tree you spot a black dog. It was rather large in stature, must be a purebred if it’s that big. You knew an expensive dog wouldn’t be wandering the woods collarless. And you couldn’t remember if Zemo ever mentioned having any pets.

You stepped closer, never fearing animals. You loved dogs, you had a few of your own at your parents house. “Here boy.” You kneel down, reaching out your hand. It finally gives you its attention. Immediately showing his sharp canines, snarling loudly. “Oop.” You stand up and slowly back away, knowing the signs of an agitated dog.

When your view of it is blocked by the tree you turn around and sprint away. Not wanting to receive a rabies shot on Halloween night. You see the lighted trees nearing. That’s when you heard it, rhythmic thumbing coming from behind you. When you turn around you let out a scream, the dog is already pouncing on you, knocking you to the ground. You tray to scramble away. You see people’s feet running towards your screams.

The dog latches its mouth onto your leg, when you try to rip it away it only sinks its teeth deeper. You see Zemo come to your aid with a pool cleaner net, swinging it at the dog. “Get away.” He shouts, he ends up cracking the dog on top of his head with the plastic pole. It yelped, causing your leg to fall out of his mouth. He ran for cover, disappearing into the woods. Zemo drops to his knees beside you, shedding his jacket to wrap it around your bleeding leg.

“Are you okay?” Your eyes full with tears, embarrassment was an understatement. You didn’t want to face Zemo or Miranda. You didn’t want to see all the party goers pity filled faces either. You stood up, sucking a breath between your teeth at the pain. You limped past everyone giving eachother confused glances. Ignoring Zemo and Miranda’s fake concern.

You called your dad, sitting on the curb infront of the house. He rushed you to urgent care, spending the rest of the night with you in the waiting room. You were fine in the morning, a shot and a round of antibiotics set you on your way to recovering. You took ibuprofen for the pain. You called off of work for the rest of the week, needing to stay off your feet.

When you returned the next Monday, your boss told you there was a new bus boy. You waited tables all day before you finally saw him. Clocking in and disappearing to wash dishes. He was cute, dark brown hair and light stubble. He didn’t introduce himself to you or Mary, the other waitress, odd. But you had a feeling the little diner would grow on him eventually.

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multific · 1 year

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If He doesn't Scare You, No Evil Thing will

Cruella!Helmut Zemo x Reader

Words: 5.5K

Summary: Helmut Zemo, the best designer, a cold and manipulative man. You, a barista, a kind and gentle person. Nothing common between you two yet fate had its ways to toy with you.

A/N: None of the above pictures are mine, all rights go to their owners, especially the beautiful work of art by @enstatia which inspired this whole story.

Baron Helmut Zemo is the best fashion designer in the entire world.

He was rich, smart and elegant. He was adored by some and hated by many.

He wasn't a gentleman, he was rude and cunning, and he always got what he wanted. In the name of fashion, he had done many terrible things.

The Sokovian noble born became a well-known name in the entire world after his first collection.

Most people knew him for his famous furs, others knew him because he liked to crush the competition, literally.

He always said, fashion isn't kind, so why should he be?

You were always fascinated by fashion, even if you didn't have a taste for it or the money to afford it.

But Zemo's collections always stood out for you, you spent many many hours looking at his clothing. His taste and creativity were beyond everything you could ever imagine.

But you will never be able to afford anything of his, working in a coffee shop certainly didn't give you the paycheck of your dreams, if you were honest you barely made enough to live but you dreamed big.

You let out a long sigh as you were getting ready to close the store finally. A long shift and you were the only one remaining to close it all up.

Just as you were sweeping the floors, a man came rushing in, he was heaving, he clearly had a run, but who would run in a suit like that?

"We are cl-"

"PLEASE! I need a double espresso urgently."

"Sorry, Sir."

"I NEED that coffee or my boss will kill me! Please! I pay extra, double, triple whatever but I need that coffee." he was desperate, probably a new started who was trying to impress their boss.

"Okay." you ended up saying. "But! This is the first and only time! You have to come next time during open hours!"

"Thank you! THANK YOU!"

You made the coffee as best as you could in your tired state before handing it to him.

He really did leave a nice tip for you and was soon out the door, running.

You shook your head and closed up.

The next day, everything went normally. Customers came, left, some leaving you nice tips.

Then, when you stood behind the bar, he arrived again.

"Hello. Coming this time during normal hours." he laughed lightly. "Look my boss really liked the coffee you made for him, so I'll have to come here regularly from now on, maybe even more than once a day. So, I'll always order the same, double espresso, like you made yesterday and for me a cappuccino."

And just like he said, he came to the store every morning at 7:50 sharp, ordered the same thing every time and occasionally, he arrived in the afternoon.

"I do see why Boss likes your coffee, the cappuccino you made for me was amazing."

He was your first regular customer. He told you he worked for a big company and had a husband and a german shepherd. He was talkative as if he didn't have anyone to talk to about these things during the day.

Then, one day, he didn't come in the morning.

It was strange coming from someone sharp.

But, you went on with your day, and just as you were ready to close, the front doorbell sounded off.

It gave you deja vu.

"Sorry, but we are closi-" you stopped immediately when you noticed the man in front of you.

Baron Helmut Zemo.

The leading man in fashion, in this little store.

"I didn't have my espresso today, you see my assistant got sick."

That explained a lot, like how he was always so dressed and in a hurry.

You didn't know what to do. To deny him coffee would be a death sentence.

He sat down at a table like it was the most casual thing.

You made him the coffee, just like you always did.

"Anything else I could get you?" you asked as you placed the mug in front of him.

"No, thank you." as he picked up the mug his hand brushed against yours.

He was much nicer than people made him in their stories. Maybe he was having a good day, you didn't want to poke around, so you left and went back to whipping tables and cleaning the floor.

When he finished, he left you a good tip and without another word, he was off.

Everything happened so fast, you wondered if it was even real.

In the end, you convinced yourself that it couldn't possibly be Baron Zemo, and you just moved on.

The next day, the assistant guy didn't come nor did Zemo so you really must have been imagining things.

However on the third day, just before closing time, both arrived.

"We are still in time right?" asked the assistant, whose name you just remembered being Bucky. "Can I also get a slice of that chocolate cake please?" he asked as he ordered while the Baron sat down. You knew better so you acted like a professional and served them both.

And while they talked about work, you cleaned the tables.

"Y/N." you heard your name being called, nearly making you jump. "Can you help us?"

"No need to bother her, James, I know what I want."

Bucky rolled his eyes as you walked over, you looked at the drawings in front of them.

Two beautiful suits, one dark with fur around the neck, white with black dots, reminded you of dalmatians, the other suit just as beautiful, dark green with gold embellishments. Both are similar styles for a very very rich man.

"Which one do you think is better?" you looked at both of them.

"Both look really nice."

"You have to pick." said the Baron and you picked up both papers.

"I like this one better." you said placing the dotted one back on the table. Zemo had a smirk on his face while Bucky huffed. "But it's missing something." you said as your eyes were glued to the paper.

"Boss said the same thing." said Bucky before taking the other drawing and putting it away.

"Is it for a man or woman?" you asked as it wasn't clear from the drawing, your question was for Bucky but Zemo answered.

"It's for me. It will be made out of fur, real fur, but as you said, it's missing something. And I'm not going to the fashion show with an incomplete piece."

Then you remembered something.

"Do you have pencils?" you asked and Bucky nodded, he gave you the box of coloured pencils.

They both watched you as you did something.

You showed them both.

You added red gloves. Ones that were missing on the fingers.

They both went silent. Completely silent and you knew you messed up.

"I-I'm sorry. I ruined it." you were about to place it on the table when the Baron grabbed it and looked at it.

"He loves it." said Bucky. "He always has that face when he loves something.

"Incredible! You have an eye for fashion!"

"I really don't, Sir. I just-"

"Come with me to the fashion show in Rome! I need your eye, your talent is impeccable."

You tried to refuse, you really did. But it was hard to argue with a Baron. And in the end, you had to go. Because who were you to say no?

You told your boss you are sick, so you won't be able to make it for two weeks.

You couldn't believe you were going to miss work, but the nice check the Baron put into your hands was twice as much as you made in three months.

"For your time." he said when he placed it into your hands. And you nearly doubled over at the amount written on it.

"This is too much."

"Not at all. It's barely anything for your time." he said as he left.

You learned he loved to have the last word.

And now here you were, looking into your wardrobe, realizing just how poor you were.

You didn't even have decent clothes to wear to work let alone to the biggest fashion event!

Then the packages arrived.

Clothes, some were so new they weren't even announced just yet.

And a simple note that the delivery guy handed you as Bucky carried the boxes into your tiny apartment.

'Wear these. H.Z.'

A simple message, you couldn't question it. Then you realized you never even tell him your address let alone your sizes to be able to send you clothes.

"Bucky? How did you know where I live?"

"Oh, easy, Boss told me, he had a feeling you wouldn't have any dresses for a fashion event, so he sent me along, you should try them on."

He sat down on your couch sipping a glass of wine.

Just where did he get the wine from? And how did his boss know where you lived?

And again, you couldn't say no, so you tried everything on. If you were honest you were impressed and also happy to have Bucky there, you had a great time.

Then, the day came.

But instead of Bucky, a driver came to pick you up. It was a luxurious car which drove you to the airport.

You didn't even dare to talk to him, but you do remember his name when he introduced himself, Frederick.

He looked like the kind of intimidating guy who was actually really sweet and kind. But you rather not push his buttons.

"Here she is." said the Baron as you got out of the car, a luxurious jet awaiting the two of you. "James sadly couldn't make it, his husband had an accident and he wanted to stay with him. But fashion doesn't wait so it will be the two of us on this trip, I hope that is okay with you."

"Most certainly." you said as he lead you into the jet and showed you where everything was.

You weren't sure why you were even there, because he liked your idea of red gloves? Because you made good coffee? Why were you there?!

"I can almost hear you thinking, how about we do something creative instead of your worries." he thought you were scared of flying. You weren't. But it was a better excuse than the fact that you had a very handsome and rich man sitting right across from you and it made you nervous.

He placed a couple of drawings in front of you, all with women's clothing this time, gorgeous gowns and suits.

"Which one should be the centrepiece of my show?" he asked as he leaned back in his chair, watching you closely

You looked at him for a moment before looking at the table, why was he asking you? He must have one already.

Collections don't come out unless you have one, do they?

You looked at him as he was sipping some champagne before your eyes moved across the drawings.

Was this a test? It had to be. He had to be toying with you. Or it could be genuine, but you had your doubts.

You picked the dress you liked the most and he nodded.

He didn't comment or ask anything, he just simply nodded and left it at that.

---

When you arrived in Rome, your breath was taken away. This lifestyle. This level of luxury that came so naturally for him was something you never even imagined.

You got a room in the most expensive hotel, your room was more like an apartment. The view was gorgeous.

And again, you asked yourself, what were you doing there?

Then the phone in the room rang, and you picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Darling, let's go and get something to eat, you must be hungry from the flight." It was Zemo.

"Oh, sure."

"Let's meet in the lobby, 10 minutes?"

And sure enough, ten minutes later, there he was, standing in the middle like a King in a gorgeous deep wine-red suit. While you had jeans and a shirt on... great. You should have changed.

As he turned and saw you, he did make a face, he hoped you didn't see, but you surely did.

Half of the things on the menu, you couldn't even pronounce, so you stuck with something you knew, hamburgers and fries. It also worried you that you couldn't find the prices.

Zemo got something very Italian. By the sound of it.

It looked really nice, some nice pasta, cheese, but your burger, oh, your burger was everything.

It was so delicious, you nearly went blind eating it. And the fries were beyond this world.

"I hope you are enjoying yourself, is your room appropriate?"

"More than that. I have a huge balcony, I can see the Colosseum from there!"

"Glad to hear that you enjoy it. What about the dresses? I sent you a couple, do you not like them?" his brows furrowed as he pointed at your top.

"Oh, they are beautiful, but I just wasn't sure when to wear them."

"Whenever you see fit. They are yours after all." he said that but he clearly didn't mean it. He wanted you to wear those dresses, it was clear.

"They cannot be mine, they are way too expensive." you argued as you thought he only gave them for the trip.

"I made them just for you, they only fit you." you really didn't want to believe him.

But you went along with it.

You knew better than to argue with Baron Zemo himself.

Later that evening, you sat out on the balcony, taking in the view then suddenly something hit you.

"Did he say he MADE them just for me?" sudden realization hit you like a train.

---

The first day of the fashion show, you felt really out of place. Even with the beautiful dress you had on, you didn't feel comfortable at all.

You were nervous as you entered the car and you were even more nervous when you realized that there are paparazzi.

"Take deep breaths, don't look into the flash and you'll be fine. And smile." Zemo said as he put his arm around you and guided you through the crowd. People were trying to ask questions but he only waved and smiled.

And then, you were inside.

The first show wasn't Zemo's. It was a woman's collection. Filled with colour and texture. Not really your style, but you just sat there, not making any faces. There were too many cameras watching, if they caught you at the wrong time, your life could be over.

"What do you think?" asked Zemo as he leaned over and into your ear. You were in the middle of watching another oversized coat walk down the runway.

"Not my favourite. Everything is too big, it swallows them." you said honestly, turning to him, hoping no one heard you.

"Quite right, My Dear." he said before leaning back and continuing to watch.

About three more collections later, that day was done.

And the fact that you didn't like anything... worried you. Zemo asked every time, how you like it, but you could never say a good thing.

How can someone be exhausted after such a day?

All you had to do was sit and smile occasionally when Zemo introduced you to people.

Oh, the number of men and women who could kill you with their eyes just to be standing next to the man who kept his arm around your waist.

He always introduced you as a friend, but the looks you received from people were not meant for a friend. They saw you as a threat.

But now, you were back at the hotel, sitting on the balcony, still in that gorgeous dress as you enjoyed your view.

You promised yourself that morning that you are going to enjoy your time here. After all, who knew if you would ever be able to make it back to Rome anytime soon or ever in your life for that matter.

"Darling?" the voice came from the room and it made you jump in your seat.

"Zemo?"

"Here you are. I see you do enjoy the view." he sat down next to you in another chair, looking at you, not the view.

"It's beautiful. How did you get into my room?"

"It is breathtaking. I came to ask if you are ready for dinner, I see you didn't change." he just completely ignored your question.

"I like this dress. And yes, I'm ready for dinner." you said as you looked at him, eyes shining but he didn't smile, he simply nodded and guided you to the dining hall.

Dinner was as delicious as the day before. You were a bit more daring regarding the food you ordered.

"Tell me about yourself." he suddenly said. Now you were glad you didn't have any food or drink in your mouth.

Why would he be interested?

But he genuinely looked like he cared, and what harm would it be to tell him?

Not like he really cared, he probably just wanted you to ask the same from him and after you told your story, you did ask him.

But he dodged the question and instead told you how tomorrow will go down.

A three-day fashion event. Was that too much or too little? You weren't sure.

But your second day was much like the first, except it was longer.

The day before Zemo made you promise that you'd wear the pink dress he sent you.

Much like the day before, he came to pick you up in the morning, complimenting you while he looked like a nicely wrapped box of bonbons.

The man looked way too good for his own good.

He sat in the car with you, looking out the window, you enjoyed the view.

"Hopefully today we will see something we actually like. What would you like to see?" he asked.

"I want to see yours." you said without any hesitation.

"Hm, you do have good taste." he said just before the car stopped.

Another day without seeing any interesting pieces. You did see one thing, a kind of duo chrome gown, it looked promising, but the back of it... horrible.

You made a face which amused Zemo. He did notice how hopefull you were and then you saw the back.

And now you learned that Zemo's collection will be tomorrow, the last day, the grand finale.

You were about to get dressed when there was a knock on your door, a woman came in with a gorgeous dress, you recognized it from the sketches Zemo showed you on the plane.

"Miss, Mr Zemo send us as he was required before the show. He sent us to get you there, we have a car ready."

The fact that you had to go alone scared you a tad bit. But you did understand why he would be there earlier.

You felt like a Goddess honestly, the dress was perfect. You can imagine him in his room, perfecting every detail before sending it over to you.

You knew he wouldn't give out anything less than perfect from his hands.

---

"To us." he said lifting his champagne, "To the perfect show." he said as you clicked your glass against his. You smiled as you lifted the glass to your lips.

"To you." you said. "Your amazing collection."

"Precisely." he said and nodded. "Wouldn't have been able to do it without you, Darlin’."

And then you suddenly realized.

It was your last day there, last dinner with him and you knew you were going to miss him.

You'll have to go back to the life of a barista. And you were okay with that. You never expected this to happen, so even the fact that it did give you a reason to go forward.

"Can I ask you something?" you asked when the waitress left after she poured you two glasses of wine.

"Go ahead." he said as he lifted his glass.

"Why did you invite me? What is your real reason? Because I'm still confused by it."

"Beauty is something I always thrived for. I always wanted to achieve perfection. With my clothes especially. When Bucky mentioned this new shop with the kind barista I didn't think much. But he started to mention you more and more. And then I went to see you for myself, you took my breath away. You inspired me as a muse would. Something I have never had. I always worked for myself, but now, now I create for you, Darlin’."

You still didn't want to believe him. You weren't that beautiful, you weren't even thin.

"I-"

"I know you doubt yourself. I see it in your eyes. But there is nothing to doubt. Your beauty is extraordinary. You might not see it, your body, and your curves would drive any man crazy, including me. And your personality, you are shining my Darling. Like today, in that dress, I couldn't stop looking at you. Breathtaking, you always look breathtaking but when I see you wear something I made, it does something to me."

You were not sure if this was some weird kink of his. Picking up unsuspecting broke women and then living a fantasy through them. But the way his eyes shined told you he wasn't lying nor was this a weird kink. Adoration is what you saw. But then, why didn't you believe him? Why couldn't you? Could it be what he said before? The way you doubt yourself, it can be getting in your way.

"I'm not that special."

"You don't see what I see. Do you think I get everyone on a plane to Rome because they thought of adding red gloves to a suit? You are exquisite, and I planned on seducing you. I'm not really good at the love department, but you are special."

Seducing you? Love? Well, the black suit he had on certainly didn't help your situation. He looked way too delicious for his own good. You couldn't think straight.

"Are you serious or are you playing with me? Is this some game rich people play?"

"No game, Darling. I'm serious about my feelings." this is when the waitress arrived with your food. He studied your face. "You do not believe me."

"It's hard to. It's hard to believe that a man of your level would ever be interested in someone like me. I'm a simple woman, a barista while you are the best fashion designer in the entire world."

"Do titles bother you that much?"

"When it's this huge, yes. What will people think? You with me? Me with you? They will think I blackmailed you, that I'm a golddigger or something."

"Don't be silly, Love. I do not care what others say about me. My work speaks for itself. But if you really are not interested, I'll understand."

"It's not..." you looked around, no one was paying any attention. "It's not that I'm not interested in you. It's just hard to process your declaration of love when your face barely moves."

"I trained myself. So I wouldn't get wrinkles."

Of course, he did.

"How can I prove myself? How can I prove that my feelings are true?"

"I don't know, honestly."

"I brought you on many dates. Every day, I saw every lunch, breakfast and dinner as a date. Even if you didn't. Which now I realize you might not have. I should have told you from the beginning, but I needed to know who the angel who made those amazing espressos was. And I really found an angel. I watched you as you worked, cleaned the store when you were ready to close and I walked in."

"I need to think." you said honestly.

"Of course, I never expected you to be ready with an answer. But please know, I am serious."

Rest of the dinner, you spent quietly, eating and trying to think.

Why did he have to look so delicious in his suit?! It wasn't fair.

Your mind couldn't even register that evening or the next morning, nor the flight nor when you stood in front of your apartment while Zemo's driver got your suitcases out. You arrived with more than you left with.

You turned and looked at Zemo.

"Thank you again for the opportunity and the amazing memories." he only nodded once before you walked away from him.

Zemo had a cold heart. His industry and past made him this way, but he could feel his cold heart break into millions of pieces as he watched you walk away and the door closed behind you. He got back into the car and headed home, home into the cold mansion where he lived all alone.

You couldn't even unpack. Your suitcases have been in the same place as you left them days ago when you arrived home.

So many thoughts yet your mind was blank, and your heart hurt.

But why was it hurting so badly? The look in his eyes as you said goodbye. It was as if he was a different person, not the kind Zemo you saw at the shows, not the Zemo who laughed with you as you looked at all the dresses and discussed them at dinner.

It was the cold and old Zemo who walked into your work many days ago.

Today was your day off.

You haven't seen or heard about Zemo or Bucky at all. You figured they were busy after such an amazing show.

You pulled out your phone and smiled as you looked at all the photos you took.

During many days you and Zemo went around Rome, being tourists he guided you through the streets as if he was living there for years.

How did you fail to see the look in his eyes? He took so many photos of you at your request and then you stopped at one.

It was a selfie of you and Zemo. You remember how grumpy he was but you ended up getting a picture where he was in the background.

Then photos of the last show, his show.

You took many photos of him.

And then, as if someone poured cold water all over you.

He was wearing the suit. THE SUIT, with the red gloves.

"You picked this one out." he said when you complimented him. At the time you only laughed it off not believing him.

And you realized your many mistakes.

You were too blind to realize what was happening right in front of you.

You fell in love.

You fell in love with him and you didn't even know it.

Now, the place on your waist where he always had his hand felt hot, burning. You couldn't believe how stupid you were.

How could you ignore his feelings? The way he looked at you, the way he held you and walked with you.

"I wouldn't have anyone else by my side, Love." he said one day and it all came crushing down.

You wanted to yell. Scream.

How could you done this?! Who cares about titles? Who cares about who he was.

All you cared about was him.

The way he looked at you, the way he smelled and the way he cared for you.

You rushed out of your apartment and got a taxi.

Only when you stood in front of the building you realized you had no idea what you were doing. You walked in and the receptionist gave you a look.

She probably had a strong feeling towards the crocks you wore, the sweatpants and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt.

"How may I help?"

"I'm here to speak with Helmut Zemo? I have an urgent matter." she gave you another look.

"Sure, I'll call security."

"No, please I'm serious, can you at least call him? Or his assistant? Bucky Barnes? They know me, I promise."

She only raise her brow as security started to walk towards you.

"Ma'am, please." one man said and you really didn't want to cause a scene.

"Please, just call Bucky at least, I really-"

"Y/N?" all of you looked at Bucky who just exited the elevator. "What are you doing here?"

"Mr Barnes we are about to get this lady out, I apologize for the scene."

As the bodyguard grabbed your arm Bucky almost growled at the man.

"HEY, let her go. I really don't think your boss would appreciate you touching her and you," he continued pointing at the receptionist. "You throw people out without confirming if we expect them or not?"

"Sir, sorry but I didn't think-"

"Exactly, you didn't think, but you wouldn't know so, I suggest you do your job properly from now."

"Yes, Sir. I apologize."

Bucky got you into the elevator as he looked at you. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk with Helmut."

Bucky smirked. "Oh it's just like a romantic movie, the heroine realizes her love for the cold hearted man and rushes to confess to him." Bucky said with a dreamy voice. "But wait! What are you wearing?!"

"I was home! what am I supposed to wear at home?"

"You need to change." he said as he pushed a different button on the elevator. "Hair, make up and dress."

And again, you knew better than to argue with Bucky.

About two hours later, you felt and looked like a completely different woman.

"Much better."

"I don't even want to know how much the clothes cost."

"Then don't ask. He's free now, probably in his office mopping."

"Why would he be cleaning?"

"Not that kind of mopping. He is sad because he let you go. SO ROMANTIC."

"Bucky." you said as you went up the elevator, top floor to finally do what you were ready to do 2 hours ago. "I'm nervous."

"Don't be. You wouldn't even have to say anything just go in, kiss him and boom. Wedding." you wanted to laugh. "Good luck." he said as he stopped in front of a huge door. He knocked before rushing off like a child.

"Come in." you heard his voice inside and you slowly opened the door.

He was sitting in his chair, his back to you. "What do you need Bucky, I told you I don't have the dresses, I don't even have ideas."

"Looks like you lost your muse." you said, your heart hammering in your chest.

"I did but why are you saying that?" did he really not realize that you were not Bucky?

"Why don't you get it back?"

"I told you I-" this time he turned and noticed you. He was, of course, wearing a suit, he look at you as if you were a ghost. "Darlin’? Am I imagining things?"

"No, and I'm sorry for being so blind. I came to tell you that if you want to, I'd like to try... us." you watched as he stood up from his chair.

"Are you serious?"

You nodded as he took steps towards you. He placed his palm against your cheek, leaning down to kiss you.

A kiss to make sure you were real, a kiss to finally mend and melt his heart.

When he pulled back, you smiled at him.

"You look stunning."

"Thank Bucky."

"Of course."

"But I do want my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt back!" he couldn't even comprehend what you just said. He was way too happy to fully process it.

---

That Christmas, you were already living with him.

You had a rather difficult time finding something for him as a gift, but then you came up with the perfect one and with the help of Bucky, you got just the thing.

You couldn't wait for his reaction to see it.

You smiled as you opened all of your gifts, clothes, jewellery, and a trip to Japan. Everything is absolutely amazing.

"Thank you, Babe, now, it's your turn."

"We said nothing serious." he said motioning towards the huge box you had in your hand which you just brought it.

"I know, open it."

Helmut looked at you and then at the box. He opened it, and then immediately looked up at you.

"What-"

You reached into the box and pulled out the small puppy and handed her to him.

"You can name her, she is a nine week old-"

"Dalmatian." he finished your sentence as he took the puppy from you. The puppy immediately started to lick his face. You smiled.

"You like her?"

He looked up at you and nodded.

"I thought I already had the best present be you, but this is amazing. Thank you, Love."

You pulled out your phone and took many many photos of him and the dog.

"What should be her name?" you asked as you watched the puppy sleep while you and Helmut cuddled on the couch.

"Cruella De Vil." you laughed slightly.

"Of course, you'd pick a name like this." you shook your head. "Cruella it is then."

You leaned over to give him a kiss on the lips as he pulled you even closer before another movie started on the TV.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @paola-carter @stunkbiggu

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

#marvel #Marvel character #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #zemo x you #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #zemo imagine #zemo imagines #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo imagine #helmut zemo imagines #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #AU #disney au #cruella de vil AU

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liminsendhelp · 20 days

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Soulmate AU

when you meet your person, you have your eye color change to the other person's eye color.

Person A who has heterochromia after meeting a soulmate. Soulmate is Person B, who has a split personality. B's eye color is the same, but persona A is convinced that this particular person is their soulmate. Something just went wrong.

Something definitely goes wrong when they get into some kind of stressful situation.

Maybe they're separated by a fallen building, maybe they're captured, maybe it's a trivial fight in an alley outside a bar. But afterward, finally holding B in their arms, the A's can't breathe. From B's angry, smiling face, covered with blood and sweat, an exact copy of their unchanged eyes stare at A.

Put your favorites in here

#hannigram #tomarry #batjokes #did i need to mention winter soldier cause i will #winter soldier #bucky barnes #helmut zemo #limin #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter #hannibal #baron zemo #will graham #oh and starling! how i love starling #clarice starling #soulmate au #tf 141 #cod #our flag means death

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addict-rat · 1 year

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Your Eyes Betray You

Summary: You have a rivalry with Zemo and his team, but you also have mixed feelings with him, in one mission you both finally end up saying what you feel and more.

Words count: 2880

Paring: Helmut Zemo x F!Reader

Warnings: +18 Explict, swering, very poorly written smut, wall sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, fingering, p in v.

Author’s note: Buenas, I just want to say a few things, frist this is my frist smut written in english, that leads to the second thing english not my first language I know a bit of the language but still learning so I used a translator from time to time if you see a mistake in the grammar or in general please let me know, I accept criticism but I don’t tolerate hate comments or similar. I probably gonna write more fanficons so I accept request in the future and I in the process of writing a Namor fanfic x!Reader. Gracias enjoy the fic :D

My masterlist.

Your career as a government agent was going pretty well. Not long ago you had been promoted to a position now you have your own team of agents to lead although you still had to follow orders from your superior, Secretary Ross. you could say that you had done everything to be where you were now, and you knew that one day you would be in a higher position than the one you were currently in, you worked hard to have a record of success in most of your missions, that was one of the reasons why you were given this position, however everything changed when you met your now "enemies" the Thunderbolts.

Thunderbolts was a team similar to yours except they had two supersoldiers, Ava Starr better known as Phantom, Justin Hammer and criminal mastermind who more than once could take you down. While your team was not bad, the problem was that it turns out you were not the best person to lead, since most of your life you had and preferred to work on your own.

Valentina and Ross were on the same path, therefore Thunderbolts and your team ended up on the same mission so you saw them very often, they were a headache for you because you knew you had a half chance of succeeding in the mission and a half chance of losing because of them.

Everyone already knew each other, it was like seeing co-workers who had been together for many years, but as team leader you knew all the opposing team better, especially their leader.

Helmut Zemo.

Being both team leaders you had faced him before, at first you could say you had no opinion of him, after meeting him on a mission where you lost, you began to hate him especially when you realized how much you found yourself thinking about him, you were not going to admit the obvious you had to stay focused on what mattered.

You weren't a fan of missions that involved having to infiltrate parties and looking like you were enjoying being there, usually these types of missions you would send someone from your team, but this time you had to go, so there you were finishing your fifth drink. You were waiting for the host of the party to come out of his office so you could go and get some files that could put a big f behind bars, you heard in one of your headphones that he had already left his office and that you could move on, so you preferred to go and finish the mission instead of having your sixth drink, you walked straight to where there was a crowd of people dancing.

"I thought you didn't like these kinds of events" you pulled away a little when you saw how close you were to him "I don't I'm here beacuse of work, look like you a really having fun" you said in a mocking tone "I'm here beacuse of work too and your distracting me, can you even fight in that? "You tried to ignore the previous comment even though you still felt that feeling that had become recurrent in your stomach and you knew that he was the reason for your behavior. Your thoughts left you when you heard one of your colleagues telling you to hurry before he went back to his office "I don't have time for this and yes I can fight in this" you said walking to where you should have been a few minutes ago.

You felt someone pulling you by your arm so hard that you ended up glued to the body of the man who had pulled you, obviously it had to be the last person you wanted to see here and who in fact you were expecting to see.

The mansion you were in was so ridiculously big that it took you a little longer to get there, in some corridors there were people around so you had to find another way or wait for them to leave. You were a little more relieved that you were so close, you just had to look for the files and leave being as cautious as possible. Already in front of the door you looked to the sides before placing your hand on the door handle but before you could open the door, you were a little scared since no one had warned you that someone was already inside but your concern was gone when you saw Zemo in the door frame, the two looked at each other for a few minutes, you still did not understand how he had arrived so fast.

"If you are looking for the same as me, good luck, I doubt you will find a copy" whenever he was in advantage or beat you he always put that mocking smile, you saw him walking away while you doubted if you were really looking for the same or were different motives of the mission, but still you went after him, you approached him and he stopped walking when you reached him "Do you really want took me into a fight in that dress?" he asked this time looking at you again from head to toe "Do you want to try me? Baron" he approached you, cornering you in the wall "Do you know I love when you use my title?" you were going to answer him but you both became alert when you heard footsteps and you heard your team warning you that someone was coming in the corridor, obviously it was going to be suspicious to see you two standing near the office and there was no time to go anywhere else.

You grabbed Zemo by his coat and pulled him closer to you, you whispered an almost inaudible "sorry" before you started kissing him, obviously nobody was going to suspect two lovers looking for a place to be alone, at first Zemo was a little astonished he didn't expect you to do that, but he understood that it was to cover the two of you and not to raise suspicions, so he didn't let go of you, his leg got between yours applying some pressure, which made you moan in the kiss, he took the opportunity to dominate more the kiss and taste inside you, you didn't want to admit it but it was the first time you had been kissed so well.

You remembered that this was your chance to look for the files in his coat, your hands traveled through Zemo's coat, trying to find the files but he noticed what you were doing, he took your hands and slammed them against the wall, pulling something out of you between a sigh and a moan, something you were going to regret later "You like that don't you? You like it when someone else takes control" He said close to your lips, you started to move your hips a little on the leg he had between yours, you did it by mere instinct you hadn't even noticed, " Egear are we? " He murmured as he left a path of kisses from your jaw to your neck, you let out a gasp as you felt his wet kisses, your weak legs brought you back to reality and you saw that there was no one but the two of you in the hallway "T- they're already gone" Zemo let go of your wrists "Yes, I know they left like two minutes ago" he left a kiss on your cheek "Looking for this, Draga? "He took out a small usb from his coat and put it back almost immediately, while you were still stunned and bewildered by what had just happened a few seconds ago.

You followed him down another corridor when you had already put your feet on the ground again, when you got to the corner where he had crossed he was not there, you looked around, but it was useless, there was no one there, you walked back from where you came but you saw from afar that a group of people were coming and you saw that from the other side of the corridor as well. For a moment you were paralyzed, but they dragged you to another small room, that looked like a cellar or something similar, the room was only illuminated by the small lines of the shutter that almost completely covered the window of the door.

"What..."

You couldn't finish.

"Shhh."

"Don't shhh to me"

He put his hand on your mouth "Shhhh" you heard murmurs that were going to close where you were, you did not pay attention to what they were talking, you were more focused on watching him even with the little light that came from the hallway, his dark eyes staring at the door where he had you nailed, you saw how he frowned to concentrate on what the other people were talking, his dark hair well combed and how soft it seemed to be, you wanted to pass your hand touching him.

"Enjoying the view?" He ask with that cooky smirt and removed his hand from your mouth "I do, although I preferred the way you looked in the hallway" he tilt his head, his hands went to your hips "You didn't look at me like you hated me... but you don't, do you? Well you did at first, but then you pretended to" Your eyes widened in amazement, after all this time you were still impressed by how capable he was of reading you despite how good you were at pretending.

"Your eyes, your eyes betrayed you" he replied as if he knew what you were going to ask, it was no secret that he no longer saw you as if his gaze could kill you, at first he detested you especially you being the one who had beaten him a few times, but that had been a long time ago.

Your lips approached his, when it finally looked like your lips were about to touch his, he moved a few inches away from you "Tell me what do you want, darling?" You bite your lip, his hand slowly went down to the hem of your dress, caressing your thighs under your dress "Please, please Helmut... Touch me, make me yours please fuck me please" you begged pathetically for the other man to touch you, you never thought you would beg like that for anyone ever in your life, but for him, you didn't mind doing it.

This time it was his lips that found you and he drank you in almost the same way he had done in the past kiss, his kisses went down to your neck and his hands this time went up your dress to your waist and into your panties playing with the now wet fabric, you were about to beg for more, when you heard the rustle of the fabric tearing, You gave a gasp of astonishment that quickly turned into a more erotic one as you felt his fingers in your wet folds "You won't need these" he said finishing removing your panties "You already so wet for me" one of his hands took your leg to lift it a little, your fingernails dug into his shoulders to steady you.

"Don't stop Zemo ples...Ah" Two of his long and thick fingers penetrated into your wet cunt, his fingers curled in that place that made you forget where you were. "Ah" you moaned loudly feeling how his fingers stretched you and at the same time his thumb started massaging circles in your clit. You began to feel that sensation in your belly that indicated your orgasm was beginning to form, your nails dug deeper into his shoulders. His lips so close to yours that you could feel his breaths heaving and he could feel your gasps and moans.

"Zemo... I..." His lips caught your lips in a kiss before you could raise your voice any more, you heard footsteps and murmurs outside, across the hall but they gradually receded. "You have to be a little more quite, my love... As much I would love to hear you, we can't let anyone hear us, do you understand?" Zemo asked you shortly after you came down from your state of pleasure. "Yes, Baron" you said he kissed you again, this time a little shorter "Good girl" you were surprised when he turned and your face pressed into the door, you heard the sound of his belt unbuckling as well as the zipper of his pants, one of his hands was on your hip gripping you tightly then you were to find the bruise in the shape of his hand on your hip, with his other hand he said the tip of his cock was moving in your wet folds "Stop teasing me, baron please" a choked moan came from your lips as you felt him slowly penetrate you, it was much bigger than you had thought, your count trembling with the strecht as inch after inch.

You both let out a sigh when he fully stettled, both of his hands on your hips "Fuck, you're so thigt" He whisper in your ear leaving a path of kisses and hickeys in your neck, you moved your head to the side leaving him more space, you let out a loud moan when you felt his teeth penetrating the skin between your neck and shoulder "Oh! Don't mark me you possesive... Oh fuck" you whimper when you felt how he came out completely and penetrated you again in a single movement, his nails dug into your hips while he came out and entered you in a constant pace, Zemo grabbed you by the neck turning your head so he could kiss you, his kisses were hungry, a little violent, you tried to follow the same rhythm as him returning him with kisses full of lust and needy, you didn't separate until you were both out of breath, a loud moan came from your lips when he hit that place that left you wanting more, your back arched and he noticed it by the way your legs weakened and by the way your walls squeezed his cock, his pace this time faster hitting that sweet place. Even though you wanted to be quiet because you were not exactly alone, anyone could pass through the hallway and hear you, but Zemo made it difficult for you to be quiet, his arm grabbed your hips while the other one massaged your clitoris, a gasp escaped your lips from the pleasure he was giving you, it wasn't a few minutes later when you felt your second orgasm come again.

"I'm so close... I'm gonna come" you let out a loud moan "Come for my draga" he grabbed your neck bringing your head to his shoulder, he applied a little pressure to your neck, which brought you to your second orgasm with a sigh and a gasping moan, Zemo waited until your breathing was no longer so agitated and came back with the same pace he had before. You felt his seed fill you deep inside your walls, you heard profanities between Sokovian and Ingles in between cut off by his agitated breathing.

After a few minutes you both had come down from your euphoria, you felt Zemo's lips on your bare shoulder, his short but affectionate kisses were going up to your cheek, his hand grabbed your jaw returning it to his face leaving a soft and affectionate kiss on your lips, you kissed him back, you let out a whimper in the middle of the kiss when he came out of you, you felt his semen going down your thighs "We could have had fun a long time ago... you know it was much better than I had fantasized..." you weren't going to admit that you had also dated him in this way, but that wasn't something you would say out loud at least not today. you know it was much better than I had fantasized" you weren't going to admit that you had also fooled around with him in this way, but that wasn't something you would say out loud to him at least not today. You both began to arrange yourselves to hide any kind of evidence. You looked for your panties on the floor, when you found them they were torn "Great, now I have to go back without underwear thanks Zemo" you said showing him your ruined panties, Zemo took them out of your hands and put them in his coat "I will buy you new ones, and next time I won't tear them" you both left the room and walked down the hall "So now we will do this on every mission we see each other" You smirk devilish "I can't promise you that I won't, but I'd prefer it to be somewhere more private" they both laughed a little "What a strange way to propose a date but ok I'll take it" they both headed for the exit and went their separate ways to where each team was waiting for them, and there Zemo noticed that you had removed the usb.

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reveriix · 3 months

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─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Singer Loki

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Barista Mobius

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Model Zemo

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Made moodboards for one of the AUs!

#helmut zemo #mobius m mobius #mobius mcu #loki laufeyson #mobius #an AU !!#tva loki #✨ creations #usually i just draw it but i wanted to make a moodboard if I ever do write for it <3

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hobbit-in-space · 4 months

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#tva loki #loki laufeyson #loki #helmut zemo #fanart #loki fanart #an AU !!#mobius m mobius #mobius mcu #mobius #mobius fanart

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wintereyed · 4 months

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The Racing AU we all know is coming:

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

Pardon the way that I stare

There's nothin' else to compare

#winterbaron #bucky barnes #helmut zemo #sebastian stan #daniel bruhl #bucky x zemo #tfatws #logan lucky #race for glory #racing au #you're welcome #i'll be here all week

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therenlover · 7 months

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Slain (Vampire Hunter!Helmut Zemo/Vampire!Reader)

Chapter One: No Compasses, No Signs

Synopsis: The world undergoes change. Helmut Zemo finds new residence and perspective on his journey for revenge.

Tags: Vampire!AU, Vampire Hunter!Helmut Zemo, Slow Burn, Blood Drinking, Manipulation, Everyone Is Morally Grey, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Rating: E (+18) For Later Chapters, Minors DNI

Warnings: Mild Gore, Minor Mentions of Child Death

Word Count: 9,900~

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

Her lips were a breath away from his neck, fangs bared, when his weapon found purchase in her heart. She settled there a while, leaning closer into him and the great bolt of wood that sat between them. He stilled as she did.

One last shuddering breath escaped her lips. “Thank you, Helmut,” It was more than that, though. A confession of love hid itself within her words.

Helmut grimaced. Not this. Not now.

Before there was even a moment to reconsider, he wrenched the stake free and brought it down again, and again, and again, and again… Better to make sure the job gets done than leave her to suffer.

He walked from that room into the daylight an untethered man. The hunt was just beginning, though.

Every inch of the floor sat soaked red in his wake.

———

Sokovia was always most beautiful in the autumn.

It was a timeless place, or at least that’s what all the brochures had said. After spending the morning exploring old-growth forests or quaint villages, a three-hour car ride could take you straight into the city, filled with modern Sokovian culture and art. The capital city of Novi Grad was bursting at the seams with theaters, galleries, museums, historical districts, and Michelin-rated restaurants serving farm-to-table cuisine: anything you craved on an international vacation, you could find it there. Students the world over chose the Sokovian National University over all others across Europe and the globe for its arts department. People thrived there.

At least they had.

Now the theaters that still stood sat empty, never to play another film or host another symphony. Museums were looted, restaurants burned, and the university, with a campus several hundred years old, turned to dust as Novi Grad disappeared off the map forever. The bricks that had once built a nation came crumbling down in one final, fatal blow. In the span of one night, the history of the whole country was lost forever.

Some things still remained, though; things older than even Sokovia had been.

Helmut Zemo just had to find them.

There was no map to follow towards his prize. There had been once, an ancient thing that sat rolled up tight in a glass case on his father’s desk for all his life. It had been there, untouched, in every memory Helmut had of that office. He imagined his father and grandfather had similar memories there, looking up at the very same desk and pondering the stiff, crumbling parchment above. Not anymore, though. There would be no more young Zemos to gaze up at that sturdy oak desk. It had been found crushed beneath the rubble of their ancestral home.

In fact, there wouldn’t be any more young Zemos at all.

Carl had been found crushed in that rubble too.

It was better that way. He had met a nobler fate than most Sokovian citizens had. Still…

Sometimes it was better not to dwell on things like that.

Helmut’s father hadn’t had much time to teach him the ways of the family before his passing, but some things came with time and the rest could be gleaned from superstition.

Silver, for example, was plentiful across their vast collection of heirlooms. Those trinkets had become incredibly useful to melt down for bullets and crossbow bolts when he started to hunt. Much more helpful, though, was the fact that the furniture in their homes was often made of fine wood, and some of those handcrafted bedposts and coat racks, when twisted just so and pulled at the socket, would reveal a perfectly sharpened end hidden within.

Those stakes had come in handy.

And even if there hadn’t been any childhood lessons on how to slaughter a creature soundlessly in the darkness of the night, Helmut had learned plenty about that in the Sokovian special forces.

After months of little revelations, his preparations were long past done. Now the only thing left to do was follow his father’s footsteps.

Surviving the journey was a secondary priority.

Helmut didn’t need his family’s map to know exactly where to seek the first of his quarries. He had heard tales of her for his whole life in nursery rhymes and whispered childhood stories.

Women, children, and wandering folk with pure hearts couldn’t be led astray, but if a man with a guilty mind followed the Behnit River, he might just get lost. Thankfully, Helmut had that part covered. Once lost, the poor soul would trek through the winding Sokovian mountain passes, traveling far beyond the shadow of Mount Wundagore until he came across a forest of fog. If the man wandered the forest long enough, evading the great beasts that lurked there, he would find the castle of the Grey Lady.

Anyone foolish enough to seek her there would see the face of death.

Now, Helmut Zemo was not afraid of death. He had been intimately acquainted with it from birth as had twelve generations before him. Ever since his father’s head arrived home on the morning of his eighteenth birthday, shipped neatly in an ice-packed crate and wrapped with a red ribbon, the abyss was attached to him like a lover. Not even his wife or child could escape that cruel mistress’s clutches. Without anything left to lose, Helmut found himself in only death’s company.

Even now, as he wandered the abandoned villages and barren fields of the country he once called home in search of the Grey Lady, he spent his time slaughtering the last stragglers of Ultron’s army and putting any live victims out of their misery before they turned. Neither tended to last long once they were starved, but a few stubborn bastards held on. He liked to think of it as a mercy when he drove his stake through their skulls.

Death walked beside him like a friend, and Helmut didn’t fear his friends.

They feared him.

That suited him just fine.

To be fair, not everything was bad here. The Behnit flowed through fields of flowers and fruiting trees where all manner of soft, warm, innocent creatures slept, untouched by the horrors of modern civilization. Helmut slept among them unnoticed. He sustained himself off of their sacrificial charity.

Another silver lining: the longer he traveled along the riverbank the less it seemed to rain, which was appreciated. His coat kept him warm and the stars kept him company. The autumn leaves seemed just as beautiful as they were advertised to be in the travel brochures he used to wipe his ass on the trail.

He had pitched his tent for the night in a cluster of boulders by the pebbled shore. The greatest of the stones were still jagged from where a slowly dying glacier rended the earth and left a river its wake. Still, they were softened somewhat by moss and time.

When Helmut woke that morning, emerging from the boulder’s shadows, the once open field that had surrounded the river the night before had been replaced with more trees than could be counted. Thick morning fog rolled in from the water’s edge. Visibility was at almost zero. There were just trees and trees and trees and nothing.

It was exactly as he thought it would be.

So he packed up his tent, tucked it away in his bag, and freed his wicked, silver blade from its holster- another heirloom coming in handy. Its weight rested naturally in his hand. Then, he walked on.

Thus began the first leg of Helmut Zemo’s journey towards revenge.

———

Black blood splattered against the cobbles as my ringed fingers slammed into the younger man’s cheekbone again.

It pooled in the stones’ creases; a thick, stinking ichor that clung to my jewelry and my skin as it continued to dribble down from his face and body. I couldn’t help but lick a stray droplet from my lips.

He wasn’t quite broken yet. It wouldn’t take much longer, though. My hunger could wait until then.

The pathetic creature stood his ground in the corner of the darkened stable as his eyes darted about to search for an escape route.

There were none. I had made sure of that. There was only me and the sturdy walls behind him. Nowhere to go but down.

As expected, he sunk to his knees after just one more sharp hit to the cheek.

I allowed my hand to linger for a moment. It may have been cruel, but I didn’t care to think too much about it. “Are you ready to tell me now?”

His red eyes glinted with tears. Slowly, he nodded.

“What is your name,” I asked.

“Pietro,”

“Pietro,” I repeated the word on my ancient tongue, feeling each syllable roll over the muscle. A strong name. Sokovian. I brought myself down to his level, resting on the balls of my feet before him. My fingers danced along his skin. “How did you receive the gift?”

“Please, I don’t kn-”

His voice shuddered and stalled as one of my pointed nails slowly began to dig into the cold meat of his cheek and more sticky blackness coated my fingers.

I smiled right through it despite the growing unease in my stomach. Maybe a gentle hand would be more helpful…

“You do know, Pietro, even if you don’t think you do. Don’t you want to tell me? To get this over with?” My voice was sickly sweet. The dank stall, once reeking of stale piss and rot, began to match my cloying tone. The air grew thick with a dizzying perfume and Pietro’s stiff posture softened at the first breath of it. All at once his eyes swam with not fear, but relief. He wanted to make me happy now. Nothing would make him feel better than following my command. It almost made me want to vomit more, if I were capable of it.

The words came soft and dreamlike from his trembling mouth. “Novi Grad, at the university. My friend was a student. We were walking back from the bars to meet my sister and a man was waiting in the alley… oh god. No.” Pietro shook his head. His pulse began to speed. “I ate him. I ate Paul. The man attacked us and Paul tried to run and I- I ate him!”

His story was sad but unhelpful.

My voice stayed even despite his hyperventilation. It was best to keep him calm for both our sakes. “Who changed you, Pietro? Who was that man?”

The air grew heavy around us both, blanketing him in warmth and pleasant feelings from all sides. It was calm. It was safe. It was all a deception.

Pietro leaned into my touch like a young, blind animal searching for his mother and I hated to admit it stirred something more in me than nausea. Whatever it had awoken, and I didn’t care to find out, it was bringing out my mercy. Death no longer waited for him at the first wrong move. I sat quietly at his side, smearing dark blood across his hair as I stroked it without meaning to; a small comfort. Absent tears dripped from his empty eyes.

After a long while, Pietro decided he was ready to speak again.

“He said he was a friend of Stark… that he would change the world,”

My voice came in a low sigh. “Starks always think they will,”

I had known. Even if I hadn’t been absolutely certain, it was hard to ignore the sinking feeling his scent brought on. If I wasn’t in so much denial I could have guessed as much the second even a drop of Pietro’s blood hit my lips. He was of my own flesh in a way, however diluted by distance and time. I had tasted it in him. There was a flavor only attributable to myself under his chemical bitterness and the musk of wet dog.

Slowly, I let my hand slip away from his face and stood, kicking at a pile of rotting straw on my way up.

Pietro drooped further into the corner. His sandy hair covered enough of his face that I couldn’t tell if he was still crying or not. “I was just so hungry,” he breathed, “I couldn’t even think, I just kept eating them. All of them. Anyone I could catch. I was just… so hungry,”

“Are you still hungry,” I asked.

The stable went silent.

He nodded. “I’m starving,”

It was a huge risk, and a stupid one too. I hadn’t taken on a familiar since the 1800’s. It had been much longer than that since I’d created a thrall or spawn, and this… this was much more complex in new and different ways. He was not mine, even if he shared traces of my disease in his blood. Whatever hybrid monstrosity he was—I was almost certain he contained something other than the vampiric curse I bore—it meant he could not be controlled by force as a young spawn could. Pietro would instead need to be tamed to be trusted, much like the legacies of wolves that dwelled alongside me in my woods.

Pietro didn’t look particularly defiant, though. Keeping him leashed to my side couldn’t be that difficult. Besides, the idea of having some company wasn’t a completely unpleasant thought.

In fact, I rather liked it.

I approached him again like I would have approached a wounded animal, undoing button after button on the sleeve of my coat and exposing the smooth flesh of my forearm. It was an offering. An olive branch. He swallowed hard.

“I will not give you this gift lightly Pietro but I am in a particularly giving mood. You only need to answer one more question, and this can all be over. Do you wish to pay penance for your hunger? Or do you wish to die?”

His body trembled as the pungent reek of fear took over the room once again. My glamour had worn off well before. It was only fair to let him make this choice with all of his mind in his own hands. “What are you doing?” He asked. His accent trembled on every syllable.

“I’m offering you a choice,” I replied. “You weren’t given the luxury of choosing what you have become, but now you can choose what you do with it. We’re similar, you and I. We’ve made mistakes. I know from firsthand experience that one needs to learn to control this curse or die before it kills them in the ways that matter, and you don’t look dead to me. At least, not yet. So what would you prefer, Pietro? How does this end?”

Pietro gulped. His shaking hands were fisted in the soft cotton of his dirty AC/DC t-shirt. “I don’t want to die,”

My face relaxed into a soft smile. That would do just fine.

“Then drink,”

He attacked my wrist like a mad dog. It didn’t even feel like a pinch as his teeth ripped into my skin.

Cool, red blood flooded his mouth in an unholy communion, and, in that moment, I could have been his god.

Pietro ate like an animal.

It was clear that nobody had guided him when he was created. No one had sat at his side as he fed for the first time, showing him just where to put his teeth or how to keep things from getting messy. Of course he’d had to kill to eat. There were no lessons on where the major veins and arteries lay: which ones were deadly, which could be pierced and healed, how to heal them… It was a damn shame. He could have been so much more than an animal.

Now, blood splashed wildly from his mouth as he tried to swallow as much as he could, ripping with his new, sharp molars to try to coax more viscera into his throat. I pitied his lack of understanding. He could barely feed himself, even off of my near-endless supply.

That being said, his desperation was almost cute.

He drank his fill of me until his eyes glazed over. As a fed man, he was flushed with life again, breathing deeply and gaining color in his pallid complexion with every breath. From the looks of it, a few more hours without a meal would’ve killed him before I could. When he finally detached from my wrist there wasn’t a hint of guilt or shame or fear in his eyes. Instead, they reflected pure satiation into the darkness. His look promised gratitude. Servitude.

I released a cold huff of breath into the air. “Full?”

Pietro replied shortly, wiping his mouth with the butt of his palm. “Yeah, much better,”

“Good,”

His eyes darted to the wound he’d left. “Are you ok?” He asked. For all of his previous boldness, he now refused to meet my eyes.

It didn’t matter much to me, but I shrugged, examining the previously mangled flesh. “No harm done.”

Pietro gaped at the improvement. My skin was already knitting itself back together, though it was working a bit slower than usual. I needed to feed soon myself.

Strong with a fresh supply, his pulse beat hard enough in his jugular that I could watch it pulse from half a meter away. More thoughts sparked behind my eyes.

Well… it couldn’t hurt.

I needed far less than he did to keep myself running. It would only take one bite. One big mouthful. One swallow. I had given him far more than that, so it shouldn’t leave him wanting in the least.

“Would you do me a favor, Pietro?” Using his name was a manipulation. The air grew thick again with the scent of pear blossoms and juicy, dripping stone fruits. “The first step towards controlling your new form,”

“Anything,”

The graphic on his t-shirt was soaked with blood and bits of ripped vein.

“Give me your neck,”

It wasn’t a question. Instead, I found myself demanding access to him.

The worst part was he followed me blindly, even with his own understanding of what it meant to feed. Pietro tilted his chin to the sky as if he might begin to wail at the moon and waited. Not a muscle moved as he waited for brutality.

I didn’t quite know what to do with him anymore. He was filled with too many unexpected surprises.

This man, barely more than a boy, was an abomination, a scientific marvel, living and dead all at once. He never should have been thrust into his creation, but abomination or not he would satiate the hunger that gnawed at every cell in my body better than any other source of blood at my disposal. His blood, however tainted, was warm beneath his skin. It called to me like the predator I was made to be.

As I moved in for the bite, though, his eyes met mine again despite the obvious effort he was taking to close them and imagine he was anywhere else. I found a new terror overwhelming him there. Something even more ancient than I was sat deep in the dilated pits of his pupils, like a pig finally understanding his purpose as the axe began to drop. I had seen it more times than I wanted to count: The looks they gave when it was too late to squeal or run. Fear, understanding, and acceptance of the end. It was the place they went when there was nowhere left to go as they waited for the slaughter. I could stomach it in animals, a needed sacrifice to sustain myself, but to see it in the eyes of one so much like me, his eyelashes wet with blood and tears… I saw my own face looking back at me.

Slowly, deliberately, I guided his head back to its front-facing position, patting his unscathed cheek with a cool but soft hand. “You passed the test, now go to the house. Find somewhere comfortable. I’ll meet you there,”

I wasn’t that hungry anyways.

Pietro sat still for a moment, eyes shifting warily from wall to wall, but as soon as he realized there were no more instructions to wait for he scrambled to his feet, bolting from the stables almost on his hands and knees until he managed to keep his balance. In a moment’s time, he was shoving his way out the door. Every few seconds, though, he would look back at me until he couldn’t manage to keep me in his sights.

He still reeked of fear.

Good. It was best for him to fear me. I would rather keep him in line with fear than with pain, and we weren’t here to make friends. Things would be better this way.

Brushing wet straw from the thick leather of my day pants, I rose to follow, leaving the bloody stall behind me. I only paused long enough to spare a look towards the piles of rotting, ichorous bodies packed into the adjacent stalls from the months and weeks before. It would need to be dealt with eventually, but not tonight. I continued into the gloom, locking the door to the stables on my way out.

There was more important work to do.

———

Pietro adapted to my solitary life far better than I could’ve expected him to.

He mostly kept himself entertained, never lingering too long in my presence, not that he should want to. There was very little of mutual interest between the two of us anyway outside of mealtimes. Still, I kept a close eye on him, from a distance of course.

The garden had become his main refuge, and that suited me just fine. It had gone neglected for a while anyway. Having a hobby would help him adapt to his new life more smoothly, and hey, a little uninformed TLC at his hands couldn’t possibly hurt the plants that had already survived generations' worth of being harvested but otherwise ignored.

When he wasn’t scrounging around the loamy dirt, Pietro spent his days patrolling the grounds. He had probably seen more of the expansive property in the past weeks than I had in the past decade. It was a stark reminder of what a homebody I’d become in the past hundred years.

Every night, when the gardening and patrolling was done, he would trot back to his seat at the dinner table, right beside my own at the head, and share his informal report on the events of his day. Once it had been news of the wolves he’d befriended, then a broken fountain that needed repair, then a deer caught in a fence. I figured this was his way of earning his keep, even if I had never asked him to. I had barely done more than feed and house him since his arrival. No progress had been made on controlling his power. His proverbial leash grew longer each day I refused to put in the time (and effort) to discipline him.

It would be so easy for him to slip away

I had no more control over him than I did over the weather. If he truly wanted to, Pietro could have run off into the mist the second I let him out of that stable, escaping to whatever fate awaited him outside the bubble of my protection. There was no glamour, no psychic energy compelling him to stay. It would be as easy as him making the choice and enacting a plan.

Still, he came back each night like a hound with a rabbit in his teeth, sometimes literally. We shared the details of his day over light, meaningless conversations each dinner time until he fed from my wrist once more and shuffled off to rest.

Despite everything, the time I spent with Pietro in the evenings was the most fun I’d had in ages.

Not that I’d ever admit that. There was still a certain air of decorum and fear-based respect that hung between the two of us and I refused to bridge the gap. He was my ward, after all. Or… manservant? No, he didn’t do enough around the interior of our home to warrant the title. Housemate indirectly threatened with death upon his departure? Whatever. The semantics of what he was to me were unimportant. What he wasn’t was a friend or equal. I lorded above him in every way: age, knowledge, sheer supernatural power. It wouldn’t do either of us any good to pretend we were closer than tentative acquaintances.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t privately relish in the meals we shared, though, and the brief bits of humanity he coaxed out of me somehow with his presence. Our quiet companionship would perfectly toe the line to keep him respectful but less fearful. At least, I hoped so.

It would be painfully miserable to be alone again now that I’d remembered what it was like not to be.

My own days hadn’t changed much, with the exception of my evening meals. Dawn was spent in the animal pens. I fed and watered the pigs and chickens and lambs before taking their offerings: the sheep were sheared on seasonal rotation, the chickens laid in the mornings, and every once in a while, a pig would grow round and tired enough to be culled. Mostly I would toss anything slaughtered and drained to the wolves to keep them happy, but on occasion, I’d leave with a lamb of my own to quench my unending thirst. Not often these days. Instead, I supplemented my diet with wine in the hopes that, eventually, I could overcome my hunger entirely. It hadn’t happened yet. I hadn’t given up hope.

Once the beasts were tended, the rest of the day was spent curled up in one nook or another attempting to pass the hours with whatever useless activity was available. If I stayed put too long, I had learned my flesh would begin to petrify, so I forced myself into monotonous, limited activities each day. Recently that meant embroidery, which made its way into the rotation once every few decades. Before that, I’d organized the library alphabetically by the author’s names (before it had been by book title), taken up oil painting until I ran out of paint, and spent a small stint attempting to design my own clothes for the hundredth time. It turned out as well as it always had. That was to say, every single design was awful and/or impossible to sew with the materials at my disposal. Even the garden Pietro loved so much had once been a time-sink to keep me from turning to stone. After almost a thousand years, though, nothing kept my attention long.

Nothing new was left to discover here. On rare occasions, a new hobby would arrive on the body of an interloper, like the Game Boy with its drained batteries that sat next to my bed, but even those didn’t take long to break or lose their novelty.

Besides, visitors had become a rarity as soon as cars and highways came into fashion.

Who would spend their days wandering down old forest paths when they could take their new vehicle down a well-mapped road instead? It was quicker, cheaper, safer- and then came the airplanes and the busses and the high-speed rails. By my nine-hundred and eighty-seventh year of immortal life, I was lucky to get a lost hiker at my door once or twice a year that the wolves didn’t shred before I found them.

Things changed for a bit after the world shook. Suddenly, it seemed as though there was a wave of new bodies wandering the wood every dusk and dawn. No companionship could be found with those maddened newborn creatures. They were like only one man-made monster I had ever witnessed, almost seventy-five years before, but they were mindless with the endless tug of their starvation, an unprecedented side effect of their disease. Always so hungry. Few retained any scraps of humanity by the time they made it to me, sunburnt and emaciated and so very confused.

After a while, though, even they became rare. It was as if they had all been sent in a great burst before whatever event that bore them was over. The whole situation concerned me. I wondered if they weren’t coming to me anymore, where were they going? There must have been more of them than the ones who had come to my door. If this hadn’t been an attack on my home, organized to finally rid me of my life, why were they created? And if so many had made it as far as my castle, what had become of Sokovia? I feared I would never get an answer.

Pietro was the last.

I couldn’t have known it when I spared him, but no more followed in his footsteps. He himself had arrived almost a month after the young man who came before, and he had taken a few weeks to find me after the one before him. Then, after Pietro, there was nothing. If he hadn’t been spared, I would never have known of Ultron, or the children he sired to prove himself to Stark, or the bomb Stark had dropped to rid the world of the vampiric plague that would descend upon it.

Maybe it was the renewed scarcity that made me pause when I first saw him stumbling through the bushes. That split second of indecision before I gutted him on sight, was it curiosity or loneliness? Or was it luck? Whatever it was, and I didn’t care to dig too deeply into any of my feelings on the matter, I was glad for it.

The pair of us kept each other company. Fog rolled in each morning and the moon glowed full each night and the world kept turning, but things were new now. The same china and linen and dining table I had stared at for hundreds of years seemed to have new detail in it every day.

We had peace.

Until the morning Pietro came wailing through the study doors with that mangled wolf in his arms.

“There’s a man!” He gasped, blood running down his front and into the deep auburn of the rug at his feet. The poor thing was long dead. From a few feet away I could tell it had gone quickly to whatever had felled it. Even still, Pietro’s eyes were wild with something more than fear at the sight of the corpse’s state. “He-“

I cut him off, rising from my chair. “Where,”

His eyes darted to the dripping gash in the wolf’s neck.

“The front walk,” he said, “I didn’t see much of him, just a shadow, but he’s armed with something bad, something that felt wrong. There are more dead too, too many to carry, but I thought she might make it. I thought I could fix her,” Pietro was babbling now, talking faster than he could even rationally think. It was evident that he had never seen a slaughter like this. At least, he had never seen a slaughter like this without a driving bloodlust that would drown out every thought other than hunger. A slaughter that wasn’t his own to make.

I crossed the room to him. “Watch the house,”

“But-”

My eyebrow raised. I was chillingly calm, tutting at him softly. “Do you think I am incapable of defending my own home?”

“No, no, but he’s just… I… how can I help you?”

Despite his fear, Pietro still so desperately wanted to do what was helpful. His moral compass was strong. I appreciated it. He was already making progress all on his own. I didn’t need him though, not for whatever awaited me in the woods. There were few people who had any knowledge of my location, and fewer still who would be able to enter and hold their own against my defenses. Knowing what I knew of Ultron, I was prepared for my feud with the Starks to come to an end. Besides, he would just be a liability, a clear weakness in my rock-solid strong persona. He was still too young.

Teeth bared, I let out a soft growl. “Like I said, watch the house. That is how you can help me, just in case someone else attempts to enter while I’m distracted,” I gestured towards the door into the greater hall outside. “Eat, then keep watch. I would only judge you if you wasted her body. If I need you, I’ll whistle,”

“How will I hear you from so far?”

“I have my ways,”

Without waiting for confirmation, I started my warpath towards the front of the house, leaving the sounds of sloppy tearing in my wake.

———

As soon as I was out the doors I could feel him at the end of the walk, but it wasn’t until he had broken the tree line, several hundred yards away, that he noticed me waiting for him.

Not a word was exchanged. That blurry body on the horizon shifted, reached back, postured, and- snap.

One soaring arrow cut through the air and found its target in my chest.

He wanted violence? I would give him violence. It had been so long since I had someone to toy with, someone who had the capability to even try to resist the toolbox of horrors that my nature had lent me. I grinned. This was a game, and I was a sore loser when my life laid on the line.

Time turned to mist in my grasp.

All at once, I was acutely aware of the bolt that had shredded through the shoulder of my coat. It stayed embedded there, the tip jutting out just below my shoulder blade, but the shaft sat too high, missing my heart by a significant margin. Stoney flesh burned all the way through the wound. When I tried to send a tendril of energy through the tunneled muscle, it fizzled out and died.

The damn tip was silvered.

This was a clever one; more than just another mindless, bloodthirsty drone in search of a throat to rip. This man had knowledge. He was a craftsman. A hunter.

My revenge awaited.

With a speed that defied the laws of the natural world, I greeted my opponent.

I moved with the wind. Every molecule of my body sang as I pulled them apart and brought them together at will, drifting over his shoulder in an amorphous cloud of smoke. Blood thrummed under his skin like thunder even if he could not actively comprehend my presence.

He was mortal.

I could feel the loose amalgam that made up my mouth almost watering at the sheer feeling of a human pulse so close to me, however slowed in the wake of my speed. Every bit of him was lean muscle, too, wrapped up in leather and military-issue kevlar. It would rip like butter under my predator’s teeth. He didn’t know that, though. In his mind, he was blissfully protected from the things that went bump in the night.

A quick scan with the looser edges of my cloudy form revealed that, despite his silver weapons, he wore none of the metal on his person.

This man may have been a hunter, but he was also a fool. He wasn’t a Stark, either. No, he smelled wrong, not a note of wolfish musk surrounded him besides the stench of dead dog in his wake. A wild card, then. Or something I couldn’t quite recognize without my nose all put together.

Plum, perhaps.

A sword, silvered like his crossbow bolts, was strapped high on his hip, but it didn’t take much maneuvering to undo the clip and send the blade clattering to the ground. Next came the crossbow itself. Taking something from the man’s hands was a little trickier, but nothing was beyond my grasp, especially when I unleashed this power. Usually, it was kept close to my chest. It was a secret truth I couldn’t even burden myself to recognize. I was ancient. I was so much more than any living soul could be forced to comprehend, I was-

The seal on the crossbow caught my eye. A badger posed regal, gnawing on the snake in its dripping teeth. My snake. Their crest.

Oh.

The game had just become so much more fun.

I felt the air, bringing my nose together enough to sniff at it. I had to be certain. There could be no mistakes if it was who I knew it had to be. And it was: It was like a perfume I could never quite wash out, a song that always resided in the back of my head, as familiar as my own name after all of the years I had known it. Maybe, just maybe, I knew it better than my own scent.

He was a Zemo.

Twelve generations I had killed over that stupid attempt at a takeover to expand their barony. Twelve fathers of twelve sons, each more horrid and twisted than the last, had willingly walked into the lion’s den on the eve of their eldest son’s 18th year to fulfill their end of a bargain struck by the first of them all in the hope to spare their bloodline from total annihilation in my wake. One by one they sought me out of their own free will. Every time they believed they would improve on the failings of the last, finally besting me, but their pride was their fall. They were cocky and stupid enough to think they knew enough to defeat me.

Every single son had died for their gall.

They didn’t have to. If one had simply disobeyed or learned mercy, I would have let them go without a second thought. It wasn’t as if I could leave this forest to find them. Nothing compelled them besides their own hubris.

And now, the thirteenth was there to take his place at the grave.

This was wrong, though. An unshakeable feeling gripped my mind more than even my rage at the damned bloodline before me. Maybe not wrong, no, but not quite right either. He was far too young.

It wasn’t as if he looked exceedingly youthful. The man’s eyes held a certain wisdom that only came with time. I was sure that, if I were capable of seeing my own reflection clearly, it would be a trait we shared. His face showed age too. A thick but well-trimmed beard decorated his cheeks and chin, obscuring the thin line of his scowl. I spent what felt like hours memorizing those features— searching for hidden signs of age, of course, or other features that might give away his weaknesses.

The point wasn’t to admire him, though, or let his features become the focal point of my focus. This was not a man who had raised a man.

He had simply come too soon.

There was no reasonable explanation I could find to explain him birthing a blood son who had reached the age threshold to fulfill our bargain. To take a father from his child… the thought haunted me. Even with the acrid stench of death and dog permeating my home from all sides, with the culprit all but waiting for release in my hands, I couldn’t do it. My standards remained.

It just… wouldn’t do.

I let loose my tight grip on time, letting each shred of my body come together into its correct place like the snap of a fresh rubber band. It was always dizzying to find time’s proper flow again but I leaned into the exhilaration of my physical form’s newness. My voice escaped my lips- at last, my real lips. It was a bone-chilling whisper. To him, I seemed to appear at his back in an instant, traveling with the breeze that froze him.

“Next time, son of Heinrich, you’ll have to aim better than that,”

He went stiff at the feeling of my cold breath on his neck, like every hair on his body had stood at attention the second he became aware of my closeness. It was more than just a startle, though. That fear was genetic, bred into him by father and father and father before him. It was in every drop of blood that rushed to his face in my wake. He masked it as well as he could have. His expression remained schooled even as a freezing hand came up to brush against his neck. I knew better, though. I saw things humans could never dream of comprehending about each other.

Minutiae. Breath and pulse and scent and temperature. Predator senses.

“You were expecting me,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“And you weren’t expecting me,”

Zemo laughed, a bitter thing. “Perhaps not. None of the others have been quite so… fast,”

I tossed his crossbow aside. It landed in the nearby brush and shattered as it slammed against the ground. My own strength was unknown to me. I could only pretend it had been intended. “Your father should have taught you better than this. This is a disappointment,”

“He might have,” he said, “but he didn’t live long enough. So, I believe you are to blame for his inability to mentor me in the rules of your little game.

My pulse raced even as my mind paused. His dark eyes took in the surroundings, surely searching for something to get him out of my grasp and back into the upper hand. Little did he know that uncertainly was creeping below my skin.

Men. They were all the same. They lacked the sight.

“You’re free to believe that if you choose,” I replied, “but eighteen years was plenty of time for the rest of them. If it was not enough for you, well, I can only call that greed. Of thirteen men, you are only the second to lose your weapon before even crossing my threshold. That and the fact that the first was not your father, it seems, means it is your father’s failing that he did not pass on the wisdom he had learned.”

“How long did he last?”

“He lasted more than six hours of combat before I gutted him. It’s a shame you couldn’t do the same. At this rate, you won’t survive the hour. What a bore,” Slowly, and without a wince despite the burning at my fingertips, I snapped off the end of the bolt in my shoulder and placed the silvered tip in my pocket, patting it softly through the fabric once it settled at the bottom. Extracting the rest of the solid metal rod was an easy feat from there. His eyes remained trained on me over his shoulder as it joined his bow on the ground.

Zemo, to his credit, mastered his fear beautifully.

His pulse had stabilized some, though its steady rhythm still rushed through my nostrils and into my dizzy mind like an intoxicating symphony. He was a cocktail of emotion inside his well-kept exterior. The scent of sudden horror was now morphing into surprise, perhaps even curiosity. His gaze only escaped mine to examine the blood dripping lazily from my shoulder to my feet.

“Confused?” I taunted.

He shook his head. “Not confused, no.”

“Then what are you?”

I wanted to know him. I wanted to rip the deepest secrets of his mind from his chest and devour them. I wanted to taste it. It would be so much sweeter if I didn’t have to take it, though. If it were given freely.

“Learning,” he replied.

It was my turn to be unprepared.

I stalked around him, coming to face him head-on, and he held my gaze again. His pulse stayed steady despite the fact that the space between us was near nonexistent, as if he thought of himself as a predator too, just like me. Still, those damn eyes examined me like some sort of experiment, not like prey. Questions sat unsaid between us in the fog.

What makes you different? What makes you special? What makes you tick?

Stars above, he made it so easy. It was impossible to keep from smiling just a little at the absurdity of it all as he took in the sight of my neck and the puckered scars that littered it. This was nothing like my dinners with Pietro. This was dangerous. Almost fun.

Everything I gave to him he shot right back at me in spades, almost as if he was toying with me too and deriving his own sick satisfaction from the electricity in the air. It reminded me a bit of the great bacchanals that had been thrown here in my youth, when the castle halls ran red with the blood of my victims, both unwitting and all too willing to die by my lips. I hadn’t been alone then. There were faces to entertain me around any corner. Even when the party ended and the bodies ran dry, my creator waited patiently for me in the bedroom as dawn broke each morning. It was horrifically, terribly, irredeemably fun. I wanted to forget it so badly that I almost had.

Now, though, the memories were fresh.

How long had it been since I’d really spoken to someone without their fear leaking from every pore? Since there had been someone to laugh with? To bounce off? To feed from?

My throat twitched shamefully at the thought.

Blood was a varied thing. No two feeds would ever taste exactly the same, even if they were almost interchangeably similar. Every emotion, every dietary choice, and every passing second spent aging would affect the profile as it hit my taste buds. Omnivorous or herbivorous animals tended to be brassy and harsh on the tongue, yet somehow watery. Overall, unfulfilling. Carnivores left me a bit more satisfied, but not much, and definitely not in terms of flavor. Other vampires were more substantial than animals, but bitter depending on their age. A young vampire tasted a bit like a berry that wasn’t quite ripe.

Humans, though… humans were uniquely human. There were no words to describe it. Mortals could not comprehend the kind of sensations that fresh human blood would fill me with enough to create the vocabulary to depict it properly. Some were savory, some were sweet; some were stomach-churning and heavy and some lighter than water on the tongue. They were ephemeral. Unique. Devastatingly addictive.

There was one unchanging fact about the taste of blood, though, that haunted my waking dreams on my worst nights.

However disgusting they had been in life, every Zemo had been orgasmically delicious in death from the very first.

I resisted the urge to unleash my glamour and drain him dry right there and then heroically. I was not that woman anymore. I had to promise myself that, at least, to keep it all reined in. The last human I’d fed from had been his father and before that his grandfather. It would do me no good to give in to my basest urges which I had fought so hard to suppress. He would die with honor and dignity when it was his time, and it wasn’t.

Not yet.

So, instead of ripping his throat clean out, I dragged a nail down the column of Zemo’s neck, relishing in the gooseflesh that raised at my touch.

“Do you always play with your food?” He asked.

I shrugged, playing the persona he needed from me to keep his dignity. “Only with your family. It keeps me young,”

And suddenly, that little playful light in him died. I didn’t quite know what had set him off, or how, but it was as if a switch had been flipped on his mood.

“I would appreciate getting on with whatever this is, then, if you wouldn’t mind,” He hissed. Zemo took a sharp step forward, closing the space that lingered between us in one swift motion. My nail pressed dangerously close to his jugular. “I am not your toy, nor was my family. This little game you’ve played with us is finished. It’s long past time. No more sons,” his nose was almost brushing my own as he spoke. I could taste every lick of hate in his breath. “This ends here.”

Even now, at my mercy, he was spending his last moments protecting his son from meeting the same fate. Not even once had any of the other men who came before even mentioned them. Not even in passing.

For a moment, I almost let him go.

The first of the Zemos had deserved it. The second had almost deserved it more if such a thing were possible. The generations seemed to snowball through the decades like some sort of horrid disease. Each man had found their way through the warding around my forest, and that in and of itself was evidence of their crimes in my eyes. The weight of guilt in their hearts had guided them to me like the light of the north star. Once they’d arrived too, every man had only continued to prove themselves unworthy of life. Every time, I thought maybe I could impart a lesson.

Twelve men had failed to understand their own failings, though, and until they did, I had doomed them to pay the same price, over and over, in an unrelenting loop of loss.

But I was so tired.

So, so tired.

Who could say if they’d ever learn? The blood I spilled might have taught them nothing at all, and it might never teach them. How many years would I spend alone, haunting the halls of an empty castle, waiting for them to learn?

Always starving.

Always hurting.

Even the guilt was gone. It was just…

Emptiness.

Deep down, I had to wonder if I was really doing it to teach them a lesson, or if I was just glad to have a warm meal and a conversation these days. When had it started to become less about them than it was about me and my own feelings?

Thirteen men. An unlucky number, but a prophetic one.

Maybe it was time to let go.

I took a deep breath and crossed my arms, letting my hand slip away from Zemo’s neck. “I have to admit, son of Heinrich, it takes a lot of nerve to demand anything of me,” I sighed, reluctant, “I’m impressed,”

He quirked up an eyebrow. “This sounds like the beginning of another game, vampire,”

“You might find out if you let me finish,”

Zemo stayed silent. I could almost hear the whispers daring to escape him as he licked his lips. Around us, the fog sat heavy and thick.

“As I was saying,” I cleared my throat and my stomach turned. When was the last time I’d been so nervous about something? When had I last felt anything at all? “You want to end the games? Fine. Lay this bare. Why are you here? Thirteenth son of Zemo, what brings you to me? Why risk your life, your youth, for this?”

I did not dare unleash my glamour to pry the truth out of him, nor did I need to. His words came easily from the very depths of his soul.

“Revenge,”

His eyes glossed over as he said the word. No longer was Zemo looking at me, though, even if his eyes were trained on my own. Instead, he was looking somewhere distant. A wrath that moments before had seemed so personally tailored against me and my existence now resided not within me, but far beyond me… Interesting

I could work with that.

The whole situation was incredibly delicate. One wrong move from me and he would be lunging for any remaining weapon in the vicinity. I walked the razor’s edge, the snake in Eden. But would he bite?

My voice came low like a prayer.

“Against who? Me?”

“Against all of the monsters in this world,” Something akin to madness pushed through the man’s demeanor. It smelled inky and burnt on the skin: a human crematorium. Loss. “The things that roam and kill without a second thought, bloodsuckers like you who thrive off the deaths of those around them. Mostly, though,” Zemo grimaced, “I want to put a silver bullet between the eyes of Tony Stark and every monstrosity he’s ever created,”

Tony. He had a son.

Despite the palpable tension in the air and the pang of shock that hit me at the mention of Howard’s offspring, the wrong Stark, I shrugged my shoulders, keeping up my unbothered persona as long as I possibly could. Anything to keep this moving forward. Anything to keep him talking and not attacking. Any excuse to keep him alive just a few minutes more. “You aren’t the first person to wish for a Stark’s demise,”

He stilled. “Maybe, but I will be the last,”

“What makes you so certain that you will succeed where even I have failed?”

“He killed my wife and son,”

After all the years I’d spent surviving off of the sacrifices of others, I had thought my heart was stone. That there was nothing left, just petrified muscle and dust. Somehow, though, I could feel it thump and ache for him. Ache for his wife, his child. All at once his early arrival made all the sense in the world.

There would be no eighteenth birthday to wait for.

No more sons, he’d said. Not now, not ever.

My voice shook ever so slightly in the mist. “I’m sorry for your loss,”

Zemo shook his head. Greasy, unkempt hair fell over his eyes, shading them, hiding them away from my prying gaze. “You say that now, and yet you were the one who killed my father,”

Touche.

Uncomfortable emptiness filled the air. Neither one of us made a move to continue the banter.

It would be as easy as breathing for me to put him out of his misery. I could drink my fill of him and forget. After a few decades, my imagination would stop being haunted by the chubby cheeks of a boy who would never find a calling, fall in love, or have chubby-cheeked babies of his own. Zemo could have destroyed me too, in that moment, just as easily as I could have destroyed him. He couldn’t know it, but I would have let him. It would be as easy as lunging for his unbroken sword and ending it all. I wouldn’t dodge. I wouldn’t dare. Not when the guilt I had hidden away so well was finally rearing its ugly face.

This one felt different. He was like nothing I’d encountered in all of my long, miserable years of life. Maybe he was even more needed than Pietro had been.

If I were to end my empty existence at his hand, I could die happily.

The idea came clear.

It had been foggy before, a half-assed imagining. I could overpower him, control his fragile mortal mind, and keep him tucked away somewhere where I could covet the feeling of his resistance against me, all to ease the endless, aching loneliness I still felt every day. He didn’t need to come willingly. Just like Pietro, I could break him to my will. If I could do it to another vampire, how hard could a stubborn mortal be?

Now, though, I saw a different path through the darkness. It was a terrible idea. Self-destructive. Awful.

The worst part? It might just work.

“Howard Stark stole something from me too, once”

Zemo scoffed in disgust. “Your wealth?”

“No, my blood,”

My deepest secrets flew plainly from my lips like they were nothing more than facts. We lapsed into momentary silence once again.

“So those creatures in the countryside…”

“Are a part of me, yes,” I mindlessly fiddled with the hem of my coat pocket, feeling the weight and heat of the silver within. “I have regretted trusting him every day for the last seventy-two years,”

Zemo stepped back and I let go of the breath I’d been holding for what felt like decades. Finally, someone else knew. The jig was up. In its wake, he seemed pensive. Thoughtful. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he seemed lonely too.

This mess was my fault, that much was plain. I hadn’t set foot outside of this damned forest since 1943 and yet, somehow, the choices I had made back then had led to the destruction of my mother country. No amount of solitude could pay the penance I owed for the crimes I had committed now, no matter how desperately I had tried.

The worst of it all was that so much was still unknown. If so many of those hybrid spawn had made it here to my home, how many more had ended up elsewhere? Was it just Sokovia that was overwhelmed by them? Who made it out? How many women and children had died at the hands of my own blood?

I rid my head of the poisonous memories as best as I could, shoving down the growing pool of guilt and regret that had been threatening to boil over for longer than I thought I could have swallowed.

One thousand years of death was finally here for its vengeance, and it was fast approaching; finally catching up to me. It was poetic, though, for it to come from him.

“I am willing to listen to your proposal,” Zemo said. “Let’s get on with it,”

“Alright. I’m offering information about the Stark family; everything I know about their affliction, my affliction, their plans to use it, the weaknesses of the monsters that will stand in your way. Anything you want, anything I know from all of my years in this life, is yours for the taking,”

He replied plainly, eyes suspicious. “I won’t spare your life,”

“Did I ask you to?” I stepped towards him. We were nose to nose again. “You can’t kill me. It wouldn’t even take a second for me to snap your neck and leave you here to die in paralyzed agony—it would be so easy—but I’ve decided against it. I’ve already had my fun for far too long, so stay here and learn all you must know from me for as long as you’d like. If you ever manage to learn enough to kill me, we shall duel honorably as your forefathers did before you. Either you will die here a failure, or you will leave here with all of the information you need to become the deadliest hunter in history. Once that’s completed, your revenge will be all but guaranteed,”

Ever the skeptic, he tilted his head to the side. “But what do you gain from this? Why would you decide against getting rid of me before I become a threat?”

“Companionship, stimulation, absolution; take your pick,”

“A meal?”

“Not until you die. Not unless you ask,”

Stroking his beard, Zemo took a step back and looked me over with a discerning eye. He had examined me intensely before, but it was like a canine scoping out its prey. Now, though, he searched me for signs of verity, any reason to distrust the suspiciously beneficial deal I had all but laid at his feet. Around us, the world seemed to pause for him as it might have for me.

“As soon as I have the power to kill you, you’ll be dead,” he muttered.

And so my final deal was struck.

“I look forward to you trying,”

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

Thank you for reading! Once completed, the next chapter will be linked here.

This work has been crossposted to Ao3

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