B&B For A Biker Gang

| A semi-okay writer with real bad procrastination | Loser™ | I take requests and I do almost any fandom | Ultimate Masterlist https://www.tumblr.com/thebargainingchip/169278854729/ultimate-masterlist

[thebargainingchip]

Already too Deep - Chapter 3

Brains and brawn (a.k.a let me beat this dead horse)*

Masterlist

Pairing: Zemo x Reader

Chapter Summary:

It just got much worse.

A/N: Also… Bucky under mind control again *gasps* but he’s supposeto be cured! Chill, he is. All explained in the next one 😘 * Yes I love beating this dead horse

“I’m-“ he swallowed, obviously distracted— fighting something— despair maybe? “I’m Bob.” Still connected, you reach for your own memories and push them onto him.

Its poker night again missions have been slow, so Thor has gone back to Asgard. At least it was supposed to be Poker night. Steve’s mom taught him to play Canasta and Tony also knows it from playing with his family so a few months back they started teaching the rest of the Avengers— the first few times were chaos. Natasha and you had never heard of it before but Bruce had said that he had never played it himself but knew of it.

“Hey hands on the table.” Steve scolds Tony as the genius tries to communicate something to Bruce only using his eyebrows but he is clueless.

“Don’t throw out any fours.” Nat says plainly to you after observing the weird form of communication that she deciphers without problem.

“Oh come on!” Tony exclaims. “Do you have to be an insufferable spy at all times?”

Nat smiles.

“How does she—“ Bruce starts asking you but you only shrug your shoulders. You don’t even know whose turn it is,

Steve sighs heavily, “Poor Ma is turning in her grave at all this table talk.” His Brooklyn accent shines through in that sentence more than ever.

“Maybe stop trying to communicate with Bruce when Nat is sitting in front of you. You do it every time and she always figures it out.” Clint advises Tony.

“You should stop cheating.” Nat says to him.

Clint looks offended, “What? I’m not cheating.”

You pull away from Bob before your thoughts interject the memory with the funerals and eulogies of your friends.

“How- how are you doing this?” Bob asks, his brows furrowed like he’s witnessing something for the first time, looking at where your hand touches him as if you’d just figured out how to cure cancer. The shadows are gone from his body and his face looks better, his eyes less dark with that heaviness, his voice is light like he was about to laugh at the memory. Even his skin feels better, there’s no darkness just a millimetre below the surface, now it feels far away— manageable.

“I just— listen, I’m really trying to leave is all.” You start answering his question but really you were running out of time. You had this feeling deep down that the last thing you wanted was to try and hurt this man. Even putting him to sleep might give the platform up to that terrifying thing that lives inside him.

His eyes flicker over your shoulder again at his friends, he nods although seeming a little uncomfortable with the idea, he steps out of your way.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

You zip open the duffel bag that your old SHIELD contact dropped off, the gun lying on top makes bile rise up in your throat, but there’s no time to play games now. You knew when it came down to it and adrenaline was pumping through your veins you would be able to pull the trigger without dissolving into a ball of nerves like you had back at the tower. You were alone now and you needed to find Bucky. You tried calling Sam, you left him a few voice mails but he was clearly too busy playing Avengers ™ with his new buddy. You knew at least one thing— Valentina wouldn’t be sending her rag tag team of B-vengers after you. Not yet, at least. No, she wouldn’t be that stupid after you wiped the floor with them, you guessed they’d be feeling it today. In truth, you got lucky in your escape. They clearly underestimated you but a second time around you might not be so successful, especially with your worsening shoulder which was no one’s fault but your own. Zemo, however, would not be so lenient. You had a small head-start, you needed to use it.

You glanced at your phone, seven missed calls from the caller ID: Trenchcoat Terrorist. It only added to your already churning gut. He’d find you soon enough, you just hoped you found Bucky before then. On top of that something about this whole thing is not sitting right with you at all and you were determined to get to the bottom of it.

Luckily this was like old times, your favourite part of your job— chasing leads and you had one already. Tonight you would rest but tomorrow you’d clock in.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

“How did this happen?” Valentina threw her hands up in exasperation at the scene before her— the whole team in the medbay. Everyone was man down— except the strongest of the team and also the most unlikely: Bob. The tall, awkward man had been the only one to come out the interaction unscathed, not even a hint of emotional distress. Except maybe worry for his fallen teammates.

She turned on Zemo. “How does a wannabe Avenger beat a whole team of trained super-soldiers and assassins?”

“Maybe your team isn’t as good as you think they are.” He turned his gaze back to watch the medical staff work. “Or you underestimated her.”He suggested then added barely audible: “I know I did.”

“No, your problem was that you allowed your feelings to cloud your judgement.”

Zemo turns his glare on Valentina. He prided himself on the fact that he was a level headed individual but his control was quickly slipping here. “Do you understand how this works?” Was his first question. “I get to dictate where this organisation goes and what it does because I make sure you have the funds to operate in the means I deem necessary. What I choose to do or not do is frankly none of your concern.“ Zemo looked away, he was determined to make that the end of that conversation.

“That argument is getting old real fast.” Val gave a dry laugh that was devoid of all humour. “You should’ve let me handle her like I wanted to then we wouldn’t be in this mess.” She said.

“You wanted to treat her like a weapon. I wanted to treat her like a person, that is the difference between us.”

“And what good did that do you? She’s out there somewhere, not knowing that someone is after her by someone who sure as hell won’t treat her like a person. And the only people who could’ve help her just had their assess kicked… by her.” She pointed out which was unfortunately true. “Listen we’re not friends by any means but I’ll be that for just a minute.” Val stepped into his personal space and he tensed. “You may think that this time you would know better, that this time you could stop tragedy from striking but you’re wrong. You allow yourself to have a weakness and the universe will see it as an invitation.” Valentina advised before she walked away. He was a little surprised, of all people, he hadn’t expected to be given relationship advice by her.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

This was what you knew to do. Your territory, your comfort zone.

You had loved the Avengers, with each and every one of your teammates you had built a good relationship but you had always worked better alone. Which was why most of your assignments were handled alone with the exception of a few small party missions. Mostly Nat or Steve and this one time Thor— which was all sorts of chaos. Your job had always been emotional and physical manipulation— it’s not something you would have chosen for yourself, nor a side that you liked to share with others. In theory, you could have lived a quieter life, you abilities made it very easy to conceal, you could have pursued something completely different. But the moment Fury had walked into the interrogation room at the police station when you were eight, you knew what you wanted to do.

You just never thought it would lead you here.

Gun trained on Sharon Carter who only stood a few feet away, and hers on you, a groan echoing from the floor where the man she had shot was dying. You shifted your grip, your heart starting to thud ever louder in your chest the longer your finger rested on the trigger.

“Aren’t you supposed to be stealing a Degar or something?” You ask, eyes flitting down to the man clawing at your leg, you nudged him away with your foot— there was no love lost, he had tried to kill you after all. Which meant Sharon had saved you.

“Sam got me that pardon.”

“I’m sure he and whoever made that stupid mistake would be thrilled that you’re holding a gun right now, sneaking around dark hallways at night.” Shit, did your hands always get this slippery when you were holding a firearm?

“You’re welcome.” She lowered her gun and turned away. You nearly breathed a sigh of relief as you holstered your own.

“Get off.” You kicked your feet to loosen the grip the man had on your pants. “Okay, firstly what the hell are you doing here?”

“Getting you out of here. Your snooping failed, there will be a team of private security swamping this place in about ten minutes.” She said swooping her hair out of her face in her telltale way.

“So I’m just supposed to believe—“ the shot that rang out so loudly, amplified by the echoing hallway that you were in made you press your back against the wall again, the rest of your sentence forgotten. You were half expecting to find your own blood mingling with the man on the floor but when you looked down you seemed intact, instead there was brain matter all over your shoes and— you just bought these. “For fuck’s sake,” You curse, this time when you kick the man’s limbs away, they stay there.

“Come on.” She tosses over her shoulder already heading down the hallway and clearly expecting you to follow.

A string of curse words follow first, muttered under your breath but you were positive she heard them before you obeyed.

So much for doing this on your own.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Your motel room is frankly a little disgusting, you don’t want to touch the sheets of your bed or sit with your skin touching the fabric of the couch. Sharon doesn’t sit either but that doesn’t seem to be her concern. She peaks at the gap through the curtains and stares at the parking lot for a long time, Your eager for her to go to her own room so you can take of the blood soaked clothes and shower. More importantly, you want to spend the last few hours thats left of night alone.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em.” She says when turns back to you, hands on her hips.

“Can’t go to hotels because then he’d find me. Had to pay off the guy at the front desk to not answer any questions, should someone come looking for me.” You explain, you sit forward on the dinning room chair, to rest your forearms on your knees and fiddle with your gloves.

“If you were smart, you’d be in a safe house far away from this mess.” Sharon says but you’re too tired to think up a witty reply. “You don’t know whats happening do you?”

That gets to you. “Barnes, Zemo and I were attacked okay. And I don’t know what these people want yet but thats what I’m here for— to find Barnes and find out what the hell these people want.”

She laughed, “You are totally out of your depth here, these people are after you.”

You paused, “Okay, so? I’ve had a target on my back before.” You shrugged.

“No, no, you don’t get it. They don’t want to kill you, what they want is way worse.” Sharon’s face was serious.

“Hold on, how do you know this? Why were you even there?” And then shots rang outside.

You shot to your feet, hand immediately reaching for your Glock again, as the two of you shared a look, Sharon crept up to the door, her own gun in hand as she slowly turned the door knob. The door burst open before she could pull it, the figure that barged in slammed her into the wall. Your own firearm was trained on the intruder but before you could unload your magazine into him you paused.

“Barnes?” The determined look on his face as he stomped over to you was enough to let you know that this was not your friend. You moved back but there was really nowhere to go and you didn’t want to shoot him, so before you knew it, the gun was ripped out of your own hands and a punch flew through the air which you managed to dodge. Rolling past him you swiped the knife from his belt, springing to your feet to face him again, knife raised. You didn’t really want to stab your friend either but clearly that was not something you had to worry about with the way he manoeuvred around your strikes. A quickly glance in Sharon’s direction revealed an empty spot where she had lied limp on the floor only a minute ago.

“Son of a—“ he knocked you to ground with a loud thud, the wind whooshing out of you. He was on top of you a moment later, knee between your shoulder blades, bending your arms behind your back while you struggled for breath, his weight wasn’t exactly helping. Then a sharp pinch on your shoulder, made your gaze snap towards it, only to see the syringe and needle. The needle hadn’t even cleared your skin before you were fighting for consciousness. Fuck.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

You get a call from Fury again. It’s not good. Someone has been working their way through ex-Hydra. At first it seemed random until about the fourth person died and now it’s been a year and there’s a morgue full of unclaimed bodies. And this is the latest of them. The killer is careful, no witnesses, no DNA, no fingerprints. You don’t have anything to go on yet and there are fourteen dead. It occupies all your time and effort which is okay because right now, all the other Avenger-stuff is quiet, after Ultron, things had felt normal for the most part. No aliens, no androids— just horrible people.

It’s clear that the murderer is taking things from the scenes but what you don’t know because there are no traces of what he leaves behind. You’re no detective but they lead you into the scene of the crime anyway and give you report on all that they find. Fury’s whole team is already on site. It’s all the same as the other dead. There are no visible wounds on the victim’s body, there are no signs of struggle in the home. Something was taken, the wall in the basement had been opened up, clearly something that the Hydra Agent stashed, something of value. “He was part of the winter-soldier program, one of his handlers.” An agent informs you. Steve’s friend? Your first clue in a year. The start of an unraveling— only you thought it was killer’s plan falling apart.

The Sakovia Accords are being signed, Steve has called you multiple times over the last few days, to tell you about Peggy, about what Ross said, about the devision in the team and how Tony found out about a kid who died volunteering in Sakovia during your battle with Ultron. You’ve only ever said one thing— “I’m with you, Cap, whatever you decide to do that’s what I’m doing.” You didn’t trust yourself to make the right choice on your own because you’d found yourself on the wrong side of the line far too many times. You’re so close at finishing up this case but you don’t tell Steve about Baron Helmut Zemo and his connection to Bucky because you don’t have anything yet and right now, Steve doesn’t need more on his plate for just maybe. You text Steve right before the funeral: On mission. Sorry about Peggy. Thinking about you xx. Then you go to confront the man who had been giving you headaches and sleepless nights for a year.

Within the next hour your world falls apart and you’re not even conscious enough to know it.

When you come to, you’re in a hotel room in Germany. There’s a warrant out for your arrest— you see it on the news. Captain America and the Winter Soldier are apparently MIA. Wilson, Barton and Maximoff are all detained on the Raft. The memories come back in bits and pieces, the people you’d burnt through to get simple information, the people written off only as collateral damage all for this man to try and tear your team apart. You understood his reasons, his wife, his kid. That can’t be easy. And the worst is he’s not wrong either but he’s done horrible people to achieve his goal, used you and Barnes to do those horrible things

You’re about to walk into the police station when someone ushers you down the alleyway, before he even has his hoodie off you realise who it is— Steve.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

It feels like wading through butter when you try to open your eyes and when you do the lights penetrates into your head with a stabbing pain, so you close them again. You’re trying to piece together what happened or where you are but all you know is that you’re not home. Some voice inside you yells that your not safe but there’s no panic to be had here, it feels far away and distant. Purposeful footsteps enter, different than the quiet, careful, tentative ones around you.

“Is she prepped?” A male voice asks. Words don’t have meaning here, you try to focus try to think but a second later you forgot what he asked and a moment later the darkness that threatens to swallow you feels far more enticing than trying to make sense of what is happening.

“Yes, we’re just waiting on the Doctor to begin.”

“Good, I am told he’ll be here soon.”

There’s a prick of something sharp and you wince. Wait a minute.

It felt just like this. Bucky. Bucky attacked you, he injected you with something but you did not hear his voice now. Sharon said someone was after you, was this them?

“Is she still awake?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t—“

“You were supposed to check! You could compromise this entire operation.” He sounds angry. “Up the dosage on the sedation.”

“If we give her anymore she could stop breathing. Already her blood pressure is in the ground.”

“Just do it!” The no almost makes it past your lips but instead what comes out is a pathetic little whimper. Then the abyss.

Next Chapter (coming soon)

Previous Chapter

[thebargainingchip]

Already too Deep - Chapter 2

Aim of a Stormtrooper

Masterlist

Pairing: Zemo x Reader

Chapter Summary:

You’re rescued! Yay!

Don’t worry it gets worse again.

You had always thought that when you ever had to make the decision to face death head on, you’d be proud of yourself, that your chest would swell with the unmistakeable feeling. Sure there would be a tremble within your fingers but it would be nothing because you’d done the right thing. Even if you were scared shitless.

The truth was much less heroic. You couldn’t stop the shaking as you waited for them to find you. Which wouldn’t be long considering the fire that you had started to attract their attention. You wanted nothing more than to sprint in the opposite direction but you were working so hard to tune out that voice at the back of your head that tried to make excuses, and reason with you.

It had started early this morning, you had woken to a chopper overhead and knew that there was no way you were making it out of here if you did nothing.

“Standby.” Your heart went wild in your chest at the sound of them so close. This is it, you were going to die.

Fuck, you had left Zemo completely defenceless in that cabin. If anything were to happen then this would have all been for nothing. Was it all one big mistake?

It had gone against everything in your nature when you had to make sure that Zemo wouldn’t stop you. It had been easy too, a well practiced skill that you had utilised multiple times in the past if situation dictated since it was nearly harmless. It’s all about pulling someone down into their own subconscious completely and then they’ll be asleep for a good half an hour at least. Enough time to sprint as far away from the cabin as you could, hoping no one would follow your tracks, and enough time to start a fire somewhere far away.

The moment the person appeared, you fired the handgun you had stolen off of Zemo. Cursing when the tree bark next to the person blew up. Guns had never been your strong point, too many bad memories. It’s only then that the recognition registers. John Walker stood stunned in clearing. You readjusted your aim and backed up a few paces. Was it too late to bolt?

“Okay, okay. Put the gun down, I’m not going to hurt you.” His words inspire the exact opposite he was trying to achieve.

“The last time I trusted you, you choked me within an inch of my life.” Would shooting him even do a thing except anger him, not long after the previously mentioned encounter that you two had.

“Look I’m sorry. We got off on the wrong foot but Bucky and I work together now.” He was gaining a few inches a minute, approaching you like you would a wild horse.

“Bullshit. I’m just supposed to believe that he would do something like that?” I demand. “Stay back, Walker or I swear I will shoot.” You couldn’t fight the tremble that crept into your voice. More boots appeared, the men were all armed with riffles and few with hand guns.

“Put down the gun and we can work this out.” He suggested.

“WhatdoIdo?” Was the chant that you kept repeating under your breath as if it would somehow summon a plan.

“Ok I’m bored of this. Drop her.” The words had barely registered before, the pain zipped up your body, your muscles all contracted to drop you to the ground, you couldn’t scream or breath or think. What felt like an eternity later it ceased as quickly as it had been there. It left you powerless on the ground, trying to catch the breath you’d lost and work through the lingering pain. Boots crunched the ground, you could only turn your head enough to watch John drop to his haunches.

“To be fair, I did warn you.” Tazed, the motherfucker had tazed you.

The sound the cuffs made as they locked in place had always been a satisfying sound in the past. Strangely enough as you semi-permanently attached yourself to Zemo it did not have the same effect especially as you looked up at him. Oh. It was almost as terrifying as the Zemo you had met post Sakovia’s fall. That Zemo had been nearly blood curdling scary. There was a hint of amusement that twinkled in his eye now which was… comforting and at the same time fear-inducing.

“Little bird, what are you doing?” His tone remained light. Well he had been the one to threatening pull you closer and forced you to pick the lock to his cuff.

“I’m not letting you kill, Morgenthau.” At your answer he cocked his head to the side in that typical mannerism of his.

“You think this will stop me?” He questioned lifting your hand that is cuffed to his, your heart was racing in your chest because he could shoot you if he wanted.

He was completely contempt with just staring you down until you answered, that amused little smirk on his face. You could drop him, that would wipe it off his face. That was the thing though— eight years ago, when you had persued Zemo after picking up the scent of multiple dead HYDRA agents, using your abilities is what essentially lead to your downfall. Things didn’t work on him like it did on others, and honestly the thought of putting your finger tips to his skin filled you with utter dread that it would bring up bad memories that you were all to keen to forget. Just as your stomach turned there was commotion from the doorway to your right, both you and Zemo turned as people rushed out, clearly running from something. The two of you exchanged a look. It was clear there would be no more negotiating about how this was going to play out.

“So whats your plan here?” You asked as you rushed down the hallway, pulling you and Zemo to a stop when he takes a beat along to answer. “The last time you faced of with a super-soldier you were behind ten feet of blast resistant steel. And I’m sure Walker has already fucked this up for us so Morgenthau won’t be complacent.” Zemo sighs as you point this out.

“We don’t have time to argue about this—“

“But we don’t have a plan either. Hey, I don’t even trust you not to kill her, I’m only aiming for stopping her from escaping. So either tell me the plan or I end this right here.”

“It’s adorable really that you think you can stop me by refusing to move.” Does he need to stand so close? He opens one side of his coat to show you the glock on his hip. You weren’t entirely sure if this was a threat or what. “I promise not to aim for any vital organs.” Clearly it was only an attempt to appease you so you’d move again. It did work however. You were cautious, you were not a fool to trust his word completely but it would do for now. The two of you moved off again.

The winding corridors of the building were extensive, turning this way and that with few very few people around, until you came into the room that as you moved deeper into, the sound of door swung open. Both Zemo and you halted behind the large pipes. The worst thing now would be to run into Walker or Lemar.

“It’s Karli.” Zemo said, who could actually peak over them, his voice soft. Her footsteps achoed in the empty room as she moved about, Zemo unholstered his gun.

“Ok plan of action, we wait until she’s right here until we jump her. I’ll try and drop her, you—“

“I have a better idea.” You should have known by the way he wasn’t look at you that he had no intention of listening to you. Zemo pulled you both out from behind cover and fired before you could properly take in Morgenthau, coming closer ahead. Then he pursued as she ran.

“What are you— You’re going to kill her.” You tried to push his hand down, the two of you halting, you tried to get your hands beneath his sleeve in what felt like a mad scramble, before Zemo grabbed your free wrist in his cuffed hand and spun you to trap you against his body, arm around you. You tried with everything to break your grasp as you were half dragged, half stumbling along. Zemo shot at her three times in quick succession as she dived to take cover behind a table but falling clumsily across it, meaning she was shot. Your fingers touched skin and you managed to get out of Zemo’s hold. His face was tense with strain, his teeth clenched together as you tried to pry the gun from his hands and knock him out at the same time— Goddammit why won’t he go down? And then your lungs reminded you need to breathe, not even realising through your concentration that you were holding your breath. With your intake of breath, Zemo managed to move unlatching your grip from his wrist, much stronger now and easily shaking of your grip on his gun. Zemo blocked the punch you tried to land and nearly knocked you off of your feet with his shoulder and then managed to twist your arm that wasn’t attached to his behind your back and slammed you into one of the metal trolleys standing aginst the wall, non too gently. Who knew these fucking cuffs would make things so difficult. Finally catching reprieve from your onslaught Zemo paused behind you, you could feel him go still and then he moved, keeping a firm hand still pn your wrist pressed to your lower back, you tried to see what he was doing over a shoulder but it was too difficult.

“Is this what I think it is?” He questioned, the next moment there was shattering of glass on the floor. Another pause and then Karli’s voice as she softly protested, clearly afraid she was putting her life at risk. Zemo being more careless in his grip, let go enough for you to see as he stomped on the vials splayed out on the ground. And it clicked. You watched as Karli ran up the stares, what must have been one of the other flag smashers waiting there for her, you turned to urge Zemo to go after him.

Zemo getting knocked back takes you with him, slamming you against the metal trolley you were pressed to only a moment before, hard. For a moment your head rings a little and then you see John Walker coming closer with Steve’s shield.

“She’s getting away you moron!” You shout from the ground your brain scrambling between checking on Zemo and somehow stopping the girl. But John’s line of gaze is not on Zemo unconscious beside you, or Morgenthau making her escape but a singe blue vial just a few feet ahead, you connect eyes with his. You shoot up as he moves but he’s quicker, Zemo’s wait stops you from going too far so you swipe out a foot like Nat taught you and send him to the floor before h can reach it. Then you stretch yourself out as far as you can go, rolling the vial closer with your toes, it comes closer at a sloth’s pace across the floor. Just when it’s almost reach of your fingers, your other wrist pinched protesting slightly from where it’s attached to Zemo, you are rolled over onto your back.

Walker slams your head back into the concrete ground, for a moment all you see is stars and hear is ringing in your ears. Pain blooms from the back of your head. Your hearing returns as you feel Walker’s weight lift off of you. “If I were you.” Through the haze of it all you watch as he picks up the intact vial from the floor. “I would keep this to myself. You groaned and rolled onto you stomach, getting onto your knees. Motherfucker. He hooks an arm round your neck and puts you in the choke hold. “Wouldn’t want you, one of the few OG Avengers, to die tragicaly at the hands of the flag smashers.” He says it all so calmly as you choke and begin to fight for your life. No amount of scratching and kicking and flailing moves him but you don’t relent. “You better tap out, or I could kill you right here, blame it on Karli, no one would be the wiser. Even your boyfriends won’t be able to save you.” Something cracks just before you feel your self slip under you hurriedly tap his arm as pain shoots through your neck.

He immediately lets go and you gasp, breathing heavy in the after math and slumping to the ground when Walker turned to you. Your coughing fit increases the pain you are experiencing an dyour gut twists as you know something is wrong. You show him the middle finger, to out of breath to speak.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The world felt like it was moving at a pace you just couldn’t reach, a ten ton weight weighed you down, you were starting to miss pieces of your memory. Everything was dulled down, like someone had taken a file to every sharp edge to smooth it out.

There was shouting outside your room and you watched as a familiar figure appeared outside the glass doors followed by a woman. Zemo looked angry while the woman looked cool and calm as she stood there.

“John and I will have words later. Everything else can wait.” His words sounded final, he then pulled open the door and strode over to your bedside, you might have thought you were in trouble had you not been so glad to see him.

“Helmut.” You blinked slowly, unable to take in his handsome features

“How are you feeling, little bird?” He brushes the hair out your face, much more tender than your body can register at the moment. And despite the fact that he touches you ever so slightly, there’s nothing— not even a hint of a feeling or a thought. Was this what normal people felt, when they touched each other? Not like a raw nerve but firm and solid. The moment you think it might be scary the feeling dissipates.

Your tongue feels heavy when you finally answer: “All tingly.” Oh shit, you had to warn him. “Watch out for the evil man in the white coat, he gave me this funny medecine and now I can’t feel my toes.” You were satisfied when Zemo’s nostrils flared, the first one to not out right laugh at you when you speak. You wiggled your toes for effect as if it would prove something but he couldn’t see your toes.

“You must admit that is kinda funny.” The woman spoke up from where she leaned in the doorway. Who was she again? Where were you by the way?

“You drugged her.” He accused. Drugged? Yeah you guessed you were drugged, they had given you all sorts of stuff since you arrived. You reached out to tug at Zemo’s sleeve but you couldn’t quite get to it, your movements being abruptly halted by a pressure around your wrist.

“How’d you find me?” You really wanted to know, last you knew he was still passed out in that cabin.

Zemo’s gaze fell down to your wrist. He shot a look towards the woman in the doorway and pulled something out of his pocket.

“Hey thats mine.” You pointed out as Zemo used your knife to cut through the restraints on your wrist that was not confined to a sling.

“Come on, we couldn’t take the risk, she touches any one of my staff and she knows too much.” The woman replied, it didn’t appear that either of them were listening to you at all.

Zemo disconnected the drip and the monitors and when he had finished that, he scooped his arms underneath you.

“Where are we going?” Startled you clung to his neck.

“Nowhere.” The woman answered. “Be reasonable Zemo. We have to keep a close eye on her, she’s a risk to our entire operation.”

“Clearly we are far past reason. Now step aside or it all stops right here.” You’re not sure what this was about but you were really hungry. The woman glared Zemo down a moment before she finally gave in and made space for him to pass.

“Bye.” You waved at the woman over Zemo’s shoulder.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Boy if you had known what you were in for, I mean it’s a given, things can always be shitty but you had no idea what would follow. It had been two days since you had been brought to the old Avengers tower in New York. And Zemo had kicked up more than just dust, in fact he had almost burnt the place down. John Walker sported a bruise just below his left eye— or so you heard since you hadn’t actually seen him. Val had not said one word directly to you, also courtesy of your self-proclaimed protector. You guessed money really did run the world because everyone seemed to be walking circles around Zemo.

To your relief Bucky had sent word that he was alive and on mission, that you should recover and he would send for backup when he needs it. But right now he was tracking the assholes down who did this.

The downsides to the whole arrangement is that you hadn’t had a lick of alone time, since Bucky and Zemo had crashed your not-date and the days were agonisingly tedious despite spending it with probably one of the most interesting individuals you had ever met. Objectively speaking of course: not everybody can say they have a royal title and almost killed all the Avengers. Nothing had been different today except bath time. No you didn’t misread that.

You were well aware that Zemo enjoyed everything in his life with a dash of luxury and no real rush at all. Things were always done on Zemo time.

“Certainly there must be a limit as to how much one person can sigh in an hour?” Zemo declared after you had infact sighed for the umpteenth time.

Let me set the scene for you. Zemo insisted on a bath, but also demands that you spend every waking moment in his line of sight. Except for bathroom breaks. Which did not include his bath time, I mean it made sense in a way: the man spent hours lounging around in the bath, you could wreak havoc on the whole of New York in that time. He was clearly not about to sacrifice this sacred time where he gets reprieve from the world. The principle made sense to you, and you had not protested much to Zemo’s rules suggestions, until now. Maybe because you were feeling guilty for abandoning him in that cabin in the middle of nowhere, so he wouldn’t be killed. Maybe.

Which is exactly why you were in the bathroom, sitting criss-crossed next to sink and painting silly caricatures of quite a few people you had met over the last three days with your finger in the fogged up mirror— honestly anything to make the situation less awkward. By the end of it you had gotten quite good at drawing with your non-dominant hand, the other safely tucked away in the sling. Sure, it sounded like a dream, a wealthy, good-looking man naked in the bath tub behind you. But not if said man was an ever-observant tease who was looking for a reason to make this all much worse for you. It was not missed by you that he had enjoyed your predicament far too much.

You detected a hint of annoyance in the ever-patient man’s voice.

“You know despite the extensive social taboos in our day and age, sighing is not one of them. Neither is it considered an indecency when two people are well acquainted.” If you weren’t well acquainted by now…

“Its not polite among royalty.” Zemo instructed.

“You’re talking about decorum? You are literally naked in a bath tub.” You pointed out. He remained silent at that. Zemo 78, Birdy 2, you added to your mental scoreboard.

“I am however prepared to make you a deal. I will stop sighing, in fact you will hear not a peep out of me for the rest of the night, if you get out and I can curl up in bed.” You were dead tired, pain did that to you. Taking any analgesia dumbed down your abilities so you tried to avoid them as far as you can. You chance a glance at Zemo through the reflection in front of you and find him completely relaxed back, a wash cloth over his eyes and lazily swirling, whatever choice of, hard liquor around in the crystal glass. You get the chance to look him over, almost giddy as you sit up straighter, not much is visible anyway, which is good— you weren’t a pervert— but his chest hair. A sculpted chest, maybe not supersoldier carved but enough. His dog tags hang from his neck. He was a military man after all. Your eyes drag up his neck, his adams apple which is visible with the angle of his head. That sight alone sets your pulse off. Then his now clean shaven face, you preferred it when stubble darkens his jawline.

“(Y/N)?” Almost worry in his voice as he sits up and pulls the cloth off his eyes, catching you in the act. You divert your eyes quickly, trying to keep your expression bored. You don’t dare glance at the smug face you know he wears. You must have been deaf to whatever he’d said. Oh, you were so screwed. You swallowed. “What I said before you got… distracted was: you’re not very good at negotiations.” That immediately discards any embarrassment you might have felt. You whip around.

Oh, you’ll show him. “I am giving you ten seconds to get out or I will walk out of this bathroom, I am beyond tired and not in the mood for games.” Zemo stares you down as if you were bluffing, setting his whiskey down on the rim of the tub. “Ten, Nine-“

“You wouldn’t.” He retorts very sure of himself.

“Eight, Seven-“

“You have a soft spot for me-“

“Six, Five-“

“I am your favourite—“ Your counting falters when Zemo doubles over, face scrunched in pain. You’re off the counter, and across the floor in less than a second.

“What is it? Did it open-“ The moment Zemo’s hand wraps around your wrist, all acting now gone, you knew you fucked up. Your unceremonious stumble into the tub, water splashing over the sides and onto the floor. You sit there a moment pondering what the score from earlier was again, clothes sopping wet and sticking to your skin.

Zemo tuts as he easily spins you so you are facing away from him “How did this little gullible bird survive this long?” He teases. And wraps his free hand around your shoulders, not your waist or your chest, your shoulders as he pulls you back to lounge with him, his fingertips on your deltoid, cheek pressed flush against the side of your head.

“Zemo.” Its meant to be a scold but is nowhere near firm enough. This seems to be becoming a trend.

“We are not going anywhere.” He chides but there is no real bite to his words as he finally sighs through his nose, his fingers brush over your deltoid. “You are far too highly strung. Which is understandable given our current location and your history. Still, we need to unwind.” The miraculously still hot water unbinds the knots in your body and you realise the calm is not your calm, it doesn’t drip into your consciousness, it soaks your thoughts and floods your senses from all the places where his skin interacts with yours and dials your tiredness to a hundred. You wonder for the second time how a man who has seen such horrible things could know such peace.

Maybe, its a bit too comfortable because your thoughts finally let loose, all the stress and pure fear resurfaces, you tremble. Zemo tightens the arm around your shoulders, squeezing you against him but careful of your shoulder. “It’s alright, Little Bird.” The whisper is not a promise of the now or the uncertain future. But a confirmation that you are here and not alone. That this moment is safe.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

You hit the floor with a thud and immediately pushed yourself up onto your hands and knees but took a moment to catch your breath— your shoulder protests. Ok maybe trying to go by Zemo’s rules weren’t working out so well.

“Are you even supposed to be here? Aren’t you supposed to be recovering or something?” Yelena asks sounding very not out of breath. Rude.

“Needed a break from recovering.” You push yourself to your feet and raise your fists, Yelena looks a little bored.

“Really? You want to keep going even though I’m handing your ass to you?” She asks disbelievingly, her stance far too relaxed. You attack in answer with a one-two jab which she easily avoids, just like she easily avoids the sweep of your foot trying to topple her balance. She immediately follows it up with an attack of her own. Her hits land, although your still standing when she pauses, the world spins around you for a moment. “I’m starting to think you were really just a courtesy Avenger.” Ouch, okay. She really didn’t like you, did she? “Why did you come here anyway? Is this your way of getting me in trouble with Zemo?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?” You bark back with an annoyed huff as you finally land a kick and she stumbles, albeit very underwhelming when it does little more than that.

She completely ignores your questions for more of her own: “You were going to ask me to help you go after Bucky, weren’t you?” Your jaw clenched, this was certainly not how things were supposed to go. Well for starters you thought she might be more receptive to you but as it turns out, she seemed cold towards you, distant. Maybe Nat hadn’t ever mentioned you or— you swallowed. You sure knew plenty about her.

“Bucky knows what he’s doing okay, just give him a chance to figure things out.” She tries to reassure but it’s really half-assed when she turns and collects her baseball cap and water beside the door.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“I’m not sticking around until I have to explain to your maniac boyfriend how you got hurt.” She dismisses you.

“Oh come on, Yelena. Yel—“ the door shuts with a thud behind her.

You could get the big blundering idiot to get you out of here but that wouldn’t really get you anywhere and then you’d be stuck with him. Ghost, was not an option, she was not really a team player, how they got her to cooperate on this one was truly a miracle. That left Walker— never in a million fucking years and the dude who skulks about, what was his purpose again?

Okay that clearly didn’t work.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

“This is ridiculous.” Zemo hands you a gun, despite it being one of the few trips outside the room where you don’t have to worry who you’ll run into, it’s still anxiety inducing. Val is off on some important business to Zemo’s relief and to yours she has taken Mr American Asshole with. Zemo doesn’t respond to your observation which is a clear indication that he sees right through you. “I completed my basics in the military before I worked my consulting job for them.”

He methodically loads the magazine, strange, you really thought he would have one already loaded. Maybe he doesn’t want to waste his expensive lead on a range, you speculate, with good reason— your minds supplies, which is really not helping. He hums. “There are so many things to unpack in that statement.”

You chuckle nervously, “What?” Because yes you’d rather maybe post pone this by trading state secrets with an international terrorist than pulling the trigger on this SIG. In all fairness you suspected he already knew them because he’s Zemo. Maybe he’ll get bored and stop this whole fiasco.

He does indulge you, “Consulting is not the word that I would use for torturing information out of subjects, some innocent, some not so innocent.” Maybe this was a bad idea. You swallow, eyes blinking against the horrors. A lot of soldiers have ptsd after battle, a few have ptsd after administering torture, you carried with you the remembrance of dragging information out of subjects and leaving the drooling vegetables to be shifted to long term full care facilities.

“I was stupid and young and thought naively that serving was patriotic and the right thing to protect my country.” You quickly defend. You are almost startled from your thoughts when Zemo grips your wrist, careful to wrap his fingers around the sleeve of your top. He didn’t want to see whatever experiences caused such a shift in your temperament. It grabs your attention so intently.

“Little-Bird you are talking to the ex-Colonel of a covert kill squad, I did not mean the statement as criticism on what you were willing to do for your country.” His eyes are intense. No it’s not that he doesn’t want to see, he doesn’t want to intrude, you realise.

“Oh right.” Your face feels hot with embarrassment because you knew that about him, did he think you were stupid? You let out a nervous huff as he brings your wrist up so the gun is pointed down range and stands next to you.

“It was a criticism on your pure denial of the fact that the term ‘consulting’ is a pure lie.” That made all embarrassment or sudden anxiety of the weapon in your hand fade. “But we’ll put it off as propaganda instilled in you during the extremely insufficient debrief.

“What? I’m not- Its not-“ he cuts your protest off.

“And my second point is that. They did not care whether you passed your basic or not, it was a formality, they were not going to let you go because you couldn’t do thirty push-ups. No, that would be stupid when you can have all your enemies secrets at your fingertips.” It was unfortunately true, no matter how you performed you were ushered through all the training —and quickly at that.

“I could do thirty pushups. Plus my knife skills were considered exceptional.” You supplied, however you fell behind on the obstacle courses consistently and you couldn’t shoot for shit— now however you would still only be able to redeem yourself at one of those.

Zemo did not grace it with an answer, only patiently waiting for you. You sighed “This is really demeaning you know.” Supporting the gun with your other hand.

“I live to charm.” He said and you snorted— very attractive of course. He slides in the magazine and it clicks audibly, he steps back. Then tuts and adjusts your grip, careful with his gloveless hands to only touch yours where the material covered it to the first knuckle. A little more of that surprise filling you at the consideration. He slides the protective headphones over your one open ear, a gesture that feels far too intimate, steps back, adjust his own and gestures as if to say ‘go ahead’. He does look Colonel-like when he neatly folds his hands behind his back, very intimidating.

You choose to focus instead on the target ahead of you, maybe ten meters if that— another insult to your already insecure ego. You recognise the target depiction, Agent Everette Ross, Val’s touch, you’re sure, since she’s is the only one who has been married to him. You try to remember what they taught you, you sigh out a breath and relax your shoulders. Lining the sights up with the bullseye on the agent’s chest, one eye closed. You ensure that it is the trigger is resting on the pad of your finger and not the crease and think to yourself about squeezing the trigger, not pulling it. You slow your breathing. You could do this.

The gun clicks with a dishearteningly low volume of an empty chamber. Fuck. You could not do this. If you had one chance to convince Zemo you could shoot, it has all disappeared in one stupid mistake. You knew it, because you have spent hours on gun ranges and the first shot was always centre and all the rest after were pathetic. Zemo’s shoulders shake in silent laughter.

“Uhmm excuse you, I meant to do a dry-fire.” If you weren’t so thoroughly ashamed , you might have enjoyed the moment of Zemo laughing, which was a rare occurrence , almost contagious. Almost. “Stop laughing.” You demanded through gritted teeth. Then choosing the high road, or so you told yourself, you placed the gun on the table in front of you, carefully because now you knew there could be a round in the chamber. Next the ear protection. “Fine, I’ll just leave.” Your tone resolved and calm. You do not get far, seemingly Zemo was in a touchy mood today. He has fingers around your wrist again, and his grip is surprisingly firm.

“I’m sorry, Little Bird, please-“ he gestures to the range, “I promise I won’t laugh.” Amusement still glitters strongly in his eyes.

“Being able to shoot a gun, does not define me.” You say firmly, not about to let his reactions get to you, because you’re sure on some level it is ingrained in him to want to affect people.

“Of course not, your abilities do not define you.” He emphasises this enough that you choose to believe the genuineness you feel from him. If he really does believe that then wow. You might have the answer to a long standing question, why exactly he tolerates you when you are in essence supposed to be on the wrong side of his values.

“Fine.” You agree for the second time. You don’t look at him again as you turn back and slip on the hearing protection once more, picking up the firearm and pulling the slide slightly back so you can peer into the chamber to discern if it was really loaded, while keeping the nose pointed down range. Suddenly the weapon felt very heavy in your hands, more like a bomb than a gun. You raise it again, who knows, maybe your marksmanship skills have fallen from the sky, to finally grace you on this day.

You take a few deep breaths in and out, not caring if you look ridiculous. Your chest feels impossibly tight, so you pull at the collar of your shirt to try and make some space. Finally you raise the gun to the target, Ross’ face a welcome distraction to the thoughts racing through your head. You feel like the pace of your heart throws off your sight a few millimeters every other moment which is way too fast for your liking. You realise you’re holding you’re breath only when you’re brain suddenly shouts panicked ‘ok breath now’, you breath whooshes out and the uneven breathing that follows is not helping with keeping the sights aligned. You don’t even think about your grip, or your finger or wait for the swinging sights to align before the loud bang echoes through the room, reverberating through your chest. It’s too loud? Did you even put your hearing protection on? Why are your eyes closed?

“Breathe,” The instruction is all to familiar but so far away. You are breathing, your breath is rising and falling, but you can’t breathe, you mean you feel like you’re drowning without being in water. You feel like if you open your eyes you might be back there—

You hadn’t known how loud gunshots could be, how they could kick you back and leave you disoriented on the floor. It’s strange, that you had seen this weapon all your life, had known about it so well, like the fridge standing in the kitchen. But you had not held it, not known the weight of it, or that you had to pull the trigger all the way back before it fired, finger trembling on the trigger with effort. God, what was that awful sound?

Like a drain pulling in air on an emptying bath tub, so overwhelmed by the fluid, so inhuman and yet—

Oh.

When you had opened your eyes, as if not entirely of your own volition, it was hard to make out your mother from the pool of blood on the floor because she was covered in it. Her blood. But she was standing right here a moment ago, intact and-

Oh no. You scrambled to your feet and nearly slipped in the growing crimson liquid as you made it to her side.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ watching her take in the next breath strikes the fear from you of what she would do to punish you for this ultimate act of defiance. And then it sinks in, this is not fixable. You had just wanted her to stop, and sating it had never worked, fighting back had never worked, so you figured this would make her stop. And it did. You didn’t mean it with such finality.

Even if you put your all into it, you could not get that blood back into her body. You don’t know how you get there but the phone is smeared with blood from having to continuously re-type nine-one-one onto the phone, every time touching a number that shouldn’t be in the combination. Fingers fumbling with the buttons, it feels like it rings forever. Surely other grownups can help you fix this.

It burns at first, your cheeks, stealing the breath from your already oxygen deprived body. Zemo’s face is right there, inches from yours, concern clear on his face. The worry floods your being where his hand is in your cheek and leaves you ice cold as if someone sucked the warmth out of your very being. Then it disappears and you can breathe more freely again. You’re vaguely aware of Zemo who wraps his fists into your jacket beneath where your arms meet your body it makes you realise you are not dying, you are having a panic attack. It breaks it all down in to reality, your breathing suddenly loud in your ears. You’re aware you’re sitting on the cold concreter floor, Zemo on his haunches in front of you.

“Breathe Schatz.” It so comforting to finally know what hes been saying, for the world not to be on mute, your eyes fluttering closed to try and take a deep breath through your nose. “Thats it.” You still have to release the breath in quick form when your lungs burn far too quickly. You’re pulling a slow breath in again. You wonder what he was about to say to that, in fact you’re not quite sure how you got here, against the back wall, on the ground. He lets go of your jacket and the loss of the pressure that feels like it might have been the only thing that held you together makes your chest ache.

His expression couldn’t be more in contrast with his words when he jokes “You’re are just a fun-sized package of nurturing and loving experiences.”

You realise it was something Zemo didn’t know about you, that he hadn’t read about you in a file. Because it had been erased from all records. You had shot and killed your mother when you hd barely knew what the word murder meant.

Thankfully for you he doesn’t deem it necessary to poke that bear.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Of course, he knew.

He found out that your trip outside of your room was not just his planned little gun range expedition.

“And you thought that it was a good idea?” Zemo’s question was simple, his tone no different his volume the same. He was good at that, conveying exactly what he thought without letting his emotions control his reactions. Your head thunked onto the table.

“I don’t think this argument will be productive.” You sigh, Zemo waits until you raise you’re head to investigate the silence. Yikes. He opens his mouth to respond, so you answer before he says anything. “You’re worried for my safety and I can’t stay in one room for days, you’ll be cleaning my brains of the walls.” Maybe a bit dark. But honestly, this place? Where your only family had lived? Not that far fetched.

“Please you couldn’t shoot straight enough to succeed.” Zemo rolls his eyes.

“What the fuck.” It slips out just as the door opens, Zemo turns to face whoever just entered but you are still staring at him disbelievingly. Was that a joke or did he just… probably both. Well that’s one way to interrupt a negative thought spiral.

“Oh am I interrupting a little tiff.” You finally turn to face Val who looks far too smug about what she stumbled in upon. “Its alright, I’ll only be a minute then you can go about sorting your little lovers quarrel.” She doesn’t wait for either of you to respond.

“Birdy, right? Can I call you Birdy?” She outstretches a hand to you leaning over the boardroom table but retracts it when you don’t move. The two of you haven’t met, not really.

This is the woman who evaded rightful impeachment by destroying evidence, eliminating people to cover up her own crude experiments. And on top of that she had drugged you just because you were a threat. Really not the best first impressions. Plus she employed Walker, which might be the worst of all her offences. “I’ll get right to it then,” she sits “Bucky has been found. He’s on mission.”

“What? Still? I already knew this.” The irritation in your voice is clear.

“Rumours and speculation and now I can confirm them.” She smirks, far too proud and satisfied by it.

“This is what you wanted to tell us?” Zemo questions.

“Well, I would like to speak to her alone if I could.” Valentina pauses and when Zemo only stares her down, she nods. “Right, I will say it anyway because this is a too good opportunity to pass up.” She turns her gaze on you.

“If you sign a contract right now, I will give you the resources and aide you need to go on this assignment.” She slides a document over the table from out her little folder.

“Valentina.” Zemo warns.

You stare at her.

“We have great benefits. Health Insurance, Pension Fund, Paid Maternity Leave.” She lists.

“You think thats whats going to convince me, paid maternity leave?”

“Well that and Bucky really has his hands full with these kids you know and to be honest the rest of the team is kind of idiots so we could really use your—“

“Enough, Valentina.”

“Let the girl make her own decisions for once.” Oh, that’s what this is about. You could feel the quiet rage pulsing from Zemo and he was at least two feet away.

“I’m mot going to fall for this negotiating bullshit. Zemo, I am leaving, whether you are coming or not.” You say firmly.

“You think its that easy?” Val asks.

“Is that a threat?” You demand, your feel your pulse in your fingers tips. If you could help it, you would prefer not to fight your way out of here.

“Please, you are not helping.” Zemo says to Valentina who lifts her hands in a shrug and sits back in her chair as Zemo leans forward.

“Am I a prisoner? Is that what this is?” You interject before he can say something

“No, Little Bird-“

“Then promise me, I can walk out of here right now.” Had you been distracted all this time? You had thought all was done under the guise protecting you from getting hurt. Zemo’s jaw works a little but he remains silent.

“Unbelievable.” You push yourself up. “We’re done here.” You slam the door on your way out. You could really use an ally right now.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Surely it can be this easy. He must’ve suspected you’d do this. Your hand creeps over the covers of your shared bed. Zemo is asleep on his side facing you. You are on your back, head turned towards him. Your movements are slow, pausing with each pause between his breaths. When your fingers finally connect with his arm it nearly startles you, before you wrap your fingers around him. You push at his dreams trying to infiltrate your thoughts. There’s a heart palpitating moment when Zemo’s eyes shoot open but you’d quickly pull him back under again. No one sleeps as lightly as Zemo does, one turn in bed and his breathing falters signalling to you his awake, its that way every single night. But you’d been careful tonight, just as you are being careful now, keeping a hold on his wrist as you stand, just to make extra sure. It’s ironic that Zemo made you stay with him in his room to protect you yet somehow this is the start to the danger you’d be putting yourself in. You would find Bucky and figure out, what the hell is going on.

All you had to do was leave.

Which sounds simple.

You get dressed, stuffing a few things, very little really, in your backpack, including the sling for your arm and your phone. Your combat suit was not really in fighting shape anymore so you settled for a pair of comfortable sweatpants, and your weapons belt, sliding your knives in place. Sure it was a risk to keep it on you, they could track you with it, especially considering Valentina’s reach but it was one you would have to take. You would need it, it was your only access to getting around, your money and your contacts.

It’s easy to navigate the walls of the Avengers tower without being seen, there was little activity especially in the upper levels and mostly security in the lower levels. You decided to take the stairs, chances of being caught was much less and it had more exit points. The only thing is— it’s a lot of fucking stairs. So round and round you went, convinced that by the time you reached the bottom the sun would have risen.

You were huffing by the time you neared the last few flights, the quickness of your descent having slowed. Your luck had run out now, you realized as you stopped on the stairs, waiting for you was Walker and Yelena. “Alright, not that you’re gonna take it but this is your chance to stop now and just go back.” Walker offered.

“I missed a security camera didn’t I?” The door a level up opened— the Red Guardian, Alexei Shostakov stepped into the stairwell. The door behind him closed, a blur and a distorted noise beside him as Ghost a.k.a. Ava Starr appeared. “I mean, I’m flattered really. You guys got all dressed up for me.” You were already pulling out your knives. “So you just do everything Valentina tells you t?”

“It’s not like that,” Yelena steps forward, she wasn’t reaching for her weapons yet. “You should really stay, you don’t understand the danger you’re in.” She tried to calm down thee situation.

“And Bucky?” You questioned, “You’re okay to just let him go at this alone. I don’t know what kind of fucked up team you’ve put together here but when we did this we had each other’s back.”

“You really think, you’ll get past us? There’s four of us.” Walker pointed out.

You nodded, flipping the knife in your hand. “Glad you can count dumbass. I’ll show you what you’re supposed to be living up to.” With a measured throw the knife imbeds into the wall, pinning Walker’s stupid beret there., none of them notice the soft beeping coming from it until it’s too late.

“You missed—“ The explosion that follows is enough to knock Yelena and Walker off their feet. Ghost is the first to reach you as you expected, you dodge her first two punches before ducking underneath her and swinging your own hit that passes through clear air as she disappears, you stumble to the ground as she kicks you from behind. There’s no time to catch your breath as you have to duck your shoulder to roll out of Alexei’s path as he tries to grab you. When you come up Walker is there, he slams you into the railing by wrapping his first in your jacket, smart man. When you reach for him he let’s go to dodge your grip. Yelena takes up the space that Walker occupied, carefully maneuvering around your reach to try and land a punch she aims high twice and then sweeps low with her foot— much like Nat would. You jump up to perch on the railing and dive over her aiming for Walker but Ghost intercepts. She appears, shouldering you to the ground, you crash against the wall.

Alexei grabs you by the shirt and you up to pin you against the wall. For a terrifying second your feet dangle in the air before you elbow him hard on the side of the head, his head swivels but he doesn’t let go, until you place your palm flat across his face.

“Alexei don’t let her—“ Yelena starts but before she can finish he is already falling to the floor out cold, you land on top of him but you’re already on your feet just in time. Ghost is there, falling into your trap, she lands the punch to your stomach, your grip wrapping around her wrist with both hands. It takes a bit of effort to feel anything through her skin tight suit but the moment you’re in it doesn’t take much. Just as you feel that rush of panic that surges as you pull up the memory for her, you let go. She collapsed onto her hands and knees, a shaky hand reaches up to press the button her suit, the mask folding away, she’s gasping for breath, tears already on her lash line.

“What the hell did you do to her?” Yelena barks.

Walker steps up rolling his shoulders, “Okay time to end this.” He rushes at you and you manage to dodge him, not wanting to get hit by his super-soldier punches. You brace, catching his shin as he nearly lands a high kick, your feet sliding across the concrete floors, the edge of a step at your heels. It leaves him open enough that you can twist before he pulls his leg back, spinning to sweep his other foot out from underneath him. He hits the ground hard enough and a second later your other foot connects with the soft place between his leg. He groans, rolling away. Supersoldier or not, that still remains a sensitive target. “You just made my day.” Maybe you spend too much time to gloat because Yelena’s foot connects to your chest when she leaps at you, sending you down a series of steps to land hard against the ground below, your shoulder screams in protest. You don’t have time to lick your wounds when she follows, she dodges the knife you throw at her, the act giving you just enough time to scramble to your feet. The look in her eyes when she comes for you reminding you of someone, as you throw the first punch, she pulls your arm past her body when she dodges and grabs it, using her other hand to elbow you in the ribs. You use the position to place her in a headlock, sneaking your fingers into the collar of her vest. The moment her arm comes up and aims towards Walker who climbs to his feet you feel her fighting against your hold on her mind. She You shoots out the wire grapple which wraps around Walker anchoring him to the railling of the stair, then you hit him with as many of the taser projectiles as she can unload.

You manage to catch your breath as she stands frozen in your grip. “Look, I know you don’t like me very much, but I’m leaving.” She already starts to sag in your arms, you ease her limp body slowly down to the ground as you carefully step over her aiming for the door to the lobby. Just as you push open the fire door you glance up at the other downed targets to make sure your escape was clear, only to slam into someone.

Hands come up to steady your shoulders as you gaze swivels to the tall man with wavy brown hair.

“S-Sorry.” He apologizes but then catches sight of the scene you left behind you. You feel the worry and anger flare up in him his eyes flash golden, his gaze back on you which is never a good sign. Who the fuck was this guy?

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

[thebargainingchip]

Already too Deep Masterlist

Pairing: Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

Tags/Warnings: M/F; Age difference; Slow Burn; Fluff; Angst; Explicit Language; Graphic Descriptions of violence; PTSD

Ao3 version

Summary:

You had been through the whole nine yards, thanks to your abilities. The whole thing with Karli Morgenthau and her band of thugs had been a reminder why you are not suited for teamwork anymore. And now at the ripe old age of twenty nine you really just wanted to be left alone to do your thing. Too bad a certain ex-assassin and international terrorist were not about to let that happen.

You never knew things could go from weird to fucked up as you are forced to confront truths about yourself. Luckily Zemo is a very patient man.

Chapter 1: Bucky Cuddle-bear

Chapter 2: Aim of a stormtrooper

Chapter 3: Brains and brawn (a.k.a let me beat this dead horse)*

Chapter 4: Coming soon…

A/N: Reader has a given nickname: Birdy— which is very rarely used. Sorry if you don’t like it.

[thebargainingchip]

Already too Deep - Chapter 1

Bucky Cuddle-bear

Masterlist

Pairing: Zemo x Reader

Chapter Summary:

Your not-date is ruined by a certain super soldier and a convict who seems to be out of prison again? What?

They need your help and this assignment goes smoothly despite the fact that they are definitely keeping some secrets. Question: How many people can say they’ve lived through a plane crash?

So far in your experience, you had the belief that if Life wasn’t absolutely horrible then all it held was an series of completely embarrassing events.

Which is why you had been more than eager to part ways with Sam and Bucky after somehow successfully wrangling together the flag smashers, the whole mission had been one disaster after the next. All you had proven was that maybe Steve Rogers and all the other Avengers had misplaced their trust in you. You’d lost your touch, so to say. The contributing factors were the fact that Sam and Bucky were often in disagreement, Cosplay Captain America did not like you and don’t even get me started on a certain international terrorist.

So you decided to keep your distance, working alone had always been your forte. If only they would let you.

Your target stood abruptly knocking over his drink as he suddenly became nervous. If you weren’t so busy trying not to get vodka soda on yourself —what a child he was— you might have had enough time to actually escape. Out if the corner of your eyes the silhouette that approached was beefy and familiar which instantly drew your attention.

Bucky’s tried to sound far too jovial for his normal cynical demeanour but you ignored it.

“Oh come on, don’t be like-shit! Hey, wait—“ he called after you as you turned to leave.

It was also improtant to point out, you and Bucky hadn’t spoken since they left you in Riga. You couldn’t help but sigh in relief as the door softly closed behind you. There were people outside but the night was quiet, you turned to walk the way back to the hotel, figuring you’d grab an uber when you had put some distance between you and this place. You stopped completely in your tracks.

“An interesting choice in company, Little Bird.” Zemo steps into your path, jabbing a thumb at the man who was quickly crossing the street, glancing back at the bar occasionally. There’s a moment of completely surprise as you look at Zemo who was supposed to be locked away for life and then— You surveyed your surroundings, maybe you could step into traffic, it was never too late to hope for some form amnesia if not something more drastic.

The bar door opened and you knew who had stepped onto the street before he said a word. You slipped off your heels, prepared to level the playing field a bit, even if it meant getting your feet dirty.

“On a date, really?” Bucky asked, amusement clear on his face.

“It was not a date.” You argued, a little defensive, “And even if it was, whats wrong with that?” You gave a quick glance to Zemo, could he see the warmth in your cheeks that had must surely be visible on your face.

“Nothing, nothing!” Bucky says quickly. “Its just… that ? Really?” The surprise is clear on his face and you can tell he’s about to laugh.

“That is wanted in four European countries and the US— that is currently smuggling HYDRA ‘owned’ artefacts between borders. Way to go Barnes and Noble, you two just compromised my objective.” There’s a long silence.

“Apologies.” Zemo offers and you only grace it with a sidelong glance. Bucky has decency to also look a little guilty.

“So?” You prompt impatiently.

“We need your help.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

You rack your brain for something to say, the imposing quiet in the car is enough to drive you mad. The radio was off. You come up empty with something intelligent to say, you know nothing about cars, and Bucky isn’t really a topic you want to bring up, despite him zipping through traffic a few feet ahead. Zemo is so deep in his thoughts, a rare occasion, that you get enough time to study him, without him noticing. This calms your mind a bit.

Zemo’s stubble is growing out, the coat he is wearing is not the fluffy collar one that you like so much but he looks good in this one too. He’s wearing his gloves, one hand rests at two and the other arm’s elbow is up against the door, he grazes his lips with the back of his fingers. The memory hits you like a tidal wave, his lips on yours. You clear your throat and it works to banish the memory but also draws the attention of a certain Baron. Except his gaze doesn’t quite make it to your eyes, it falls short.

Good, Lord, this man was going to be the death of you.

You self consciously push the dress down over the lines of ink visible on your thighs, praying he doesn’t ask you what they mean. As always however, Zemo never conforms to any expectation of him. Neither does he conform in your mind to this idea that you are supposed to hate him. To barely tolerate him like Bucky does.

“For what it’s worth, you do look good.” It makes your head whip around because what the hell had he been thinking about, you have been driving for an hour, this is the third town you are passing through.

“I am really good at my job.” You say it as if he had said something completely to the contrary.

You were quickly screwing this up too just like Riga. As if Zemo had needed another reminder that you or anyone like you should be allowed to exist.

But you were not about to let anyone disarm you, not again at least. And he chortles.

“Yes, Little Bird, you are very good at what you do.” You feel a little demeaned at the way he says it, like you’re some child who needed reassurance of the mediocre job they did at drawing a tree.

You change the topic because you might just challenge him right here if you don’t. The condescension was how he got under your skin.

“How are you here anyway? Did you swim an ocean?” Because it had been solidified in your mind that your previous encounter was your last, even if you hadn’t known it at the time.

His smile is sadder, you decide as he answers, “My freedom is interdependent with my usefulness.”

“Wow, very vague and depressing of you.” You observe.

The small private airport comes into view not long after, your heart kicks up a notch because this is happening once again. Zemo brings the car too a halt inside the hangar. This time this is not a private jet but something more capable of taking a few hits, with slick matt black sides, that stands outside the hangar fuelled and ready to go. Bucky also parks inside, but before you can open the car door, a leather glove slides over your hand that is still resting on the seat. It draws your attention back. A considerate effort since you are not wearing your normal fingerless gloves— a knee jerk reaction that you surpress. Through his thin leather ones, feelings trickle in that aren’t your own, contentment? Relief? You struggled to put your finger on it when its… muffled. “I am glad you are doing well.” Why exactly would he say that?

Maybe because when that bomb had gone off in the streets of Riga, you had ended up beneath him, he had pushed you down to shield your body. And the moment he pulled away, those ever observant eyes had scanned you for any severe injuries. You had recognised it then too, he cared. Even with your ears still ringing and and barely being able to see through the dust and debris, save for him, you cupped his face, and his lips had been so— you crash back to reality. Because you are everything he fought to destroy, what had gotten you onto his radar jn the first place had been thinking you could get through to him— that had not gone particularly well. And what exactly would a forty-something Widowed Baron who happens to be a criminal mastermind who also almost destroyed the Avengers, want with you . Then the realisation hits you that the connection is both ways, you slip your fingers out from beneath his and even though you don’t mean to, you catch his reaction. He’s about to say something, his face solemn and serious but all traces of what was supposed to be the sincere friendliness is gone and you don’t know what to make of that. He doesn’t get the chance to say what he wants, you’re already out the car.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The missions had gone surprisingly well. Bucky and Zemo were looking for a man named Phillip Vang. The titanium armed super soldier had done most of the heavy lifting, taking out any attackers while you interrogated the unconscious ones— it was why you were brought along after all, your abilities were fairly useful. Zemo on the other hand just been there, it was strange actually. Why would Bucky break Zemo out of jail for this? You didn’t want to pick that fight with Bucky, you were sure Sam was going to flip.

Bucky had stretched himself out over several seats across from Zemo. Zemo was perusing a book, you’re not quite sure if he keeps it in his pocket or what but he always seems to have one. Not having had much of a choice, you chose the seat next to Zemo. You watched the plane steering a turn on its own as the it did a slow and gradual bank.

“Who did you say funded all of this?” You doubted it came out of Bucky’s pocket and this was not Zemo’s style.

“We didn’t.” Zemo answered, not putting his book down. You gave a thoughtful hum, you didn’t know what you had expected but an answer out of Zemo wasn’t one of them, yet you had to ask.

Bucky looked good, his hair was in the in-between stage of the short cropped hair, Bucky had of course been involved with congress which was another thing that made all this strange. Was he really putting that all at risk just for this.

Zemo on the other hand, his hair had been recently trimmed and remained the same despite his growing stubble. He looked the same, at least, he looked like he hadn’t been underfed or anything even though you knew from experience that Raft’s food was not all that great.

Much like when Bucky had broken him out in Germany. He was a little changed from when you had first met him. His face had shed that youthful look to be replaced with something more mature, he also had that dull demeanour about him but you supposed being confined to four walls with minimal interaction could do that to anyone.

Maybe he had hoped Bucky would kill him. All this time you had spent being so angry at Bucky for almost making that decision without you, you hadn’t paused to consider that Zemo maybe didn’t want to stick around anymore. It seemed, however, that his purpose was not yet served.

You had been uncomfortable where you had been forced to sit. Not because of who you had to sit on, or the intense dark eyes that would connect with yours whenever you glanced his way. It was the audience that made it worse. Selby was regarding you with a look of eating you up in just one bite.

“How did you come by this information?” Selby asked skeptical of Zemo’s claims, you glanced back at the man under question, wondering how he would make her believe him. A shiver passed down your spine, halting your breath in your chest as Zemo’s hand sweaped your hair over a shoulder, as if straitening a painting on a wall. And all you had to do was sit still, say nothing and do nothing.

“A little bird told me. One who can take thoughts and find the deepest darkest secrets.” You swallowed hoping that Zemo couldn’t see the pulse in your neck. He made it sound so easy, a memory of the pain that seemed to tingle across your skin when you had entered the flags-smasher’s mind, you are immediately pulled back when a hand squeezes your thigh. Keeping you here in the present.

“I could take it of your hands, I’d have much use for the little thing.” You felt sick- you weren’t sure exactly what the plan was but this had never come up, Bucky was the one to be bartered with— not you but Zemo is almost ruthlessly unpredictable at times. For a moment you fear he might just hand you and Bucky over and then when Sam was alone to—

The stare that Zemo leveled Selby with squashes all doubts you had in him a moment ago and it is one you never want to be at the receiving end of.

“I’m not willing to let her go but we can partake in other negotiations.” He gestures at Bucky. A clear line in the sand. “(Y/N).”

“(Y/N).”

It strikes you that its the first time Zemo has ever used your name, your actual name. You had become so accustomed to his nickname for you that the syllables sound foreign on his tongue. The next thing you notice is, you are absolutely freezing and then you realise you are not in Madripoor, it shouldn’t be this difficult to hear someone, nor should the wind be inside the jet.

“More missiles incoming, weapons system is down, brace yourselves!” Bucky shouts back over the wind. You find the hole in the plane — the wind shield. How the hell did you sleep through all that?

The Supersoldier is in the pilot seat trying to take control of the plane but you have no time to do anything he says before an impact, throws you from your seat. You land on top of Zemo, who grunts but has managed to grab onto you and the leg of the dead bolted chair as gravity is quickly changing direction. You lift from the floor as the jet barrels and nearly get taken out by the G’s you are pulling, fortunately you stay awake when the wind is knocked out of you unceremoniously when you get knocked into Zemo again. The plane rights itself, your gasping but Zemo somehow manages to lift you up into the nearest seat and fumbles with the seatbelt to slide it over each shoulder. Panic hits you in full fling and you fight off Zemo’s hands wanting to urge him to get in his own seat but he clicks yours in place and tightens the belt around you middle with one smooth pull, if you were honest, you wouldn’t have been as coordinated in that moment.

There’s another impact which nearly sends Zemo flying away from you but you grab onto him with everything you have. Your left shoulder is wrenched taught in its socket and you are surprised to find you still have an arm after that. When you look to where Bucky is, the front of the jet is gone, you somehow help Zemo into the seat as the plane begins to slowly pick up speed. Luckily for you the jet doesn’t spin wildly out of control again but the nose —or what should have been— does begin to tip downward, the ground quickly approaching. you can’t reach Zemo’s seatbelt to help him buckle it before the impact of the craft hitting the ground is all that consumes you.

Death is terrifying. You would never be convinced otherwise because you had come so close to it, felt what it would feel like. You had been there the moment after Lemar had been attacked. You knew it was possible to pull someone back from the brink of death, even though you’d never done it. So slipping into his mind was easy but what was not — was the pain in your chest that bloomed, his pain seeping into your senses and the ever pull towards the void. There was no light, only a place filled with despair, black and nothingness. And when you had tried to cling on to Lemar you had almost been pulled in yourself. Sam had pulled you off Lemar and sudden connection breaking was jarring. You screamed.

Your scream is what jerked you awake in the chair you were strapped into, the signs of your vivid dream was still burning in your throat. Everything was bright and even brighter was the pain in your left shoulder, moving your arm or your torso in anyway made you whince. When you looked at the offending limb, the shoulder had way too many bumps on it. You must have dislocated it. Getting out of the seat was difficult but after unclipping the seatbelt you managed to slid of the straps and awkwardly jump down from the seat still bolted to part of jet’s floor to the ground, while only using one hand to prevent yourself from face planting.

You finally studied the wreckage around, half of it was missing, some of it was on fire and the wrest had been completely destroyed. You stood on scorched earth, a small clearing created by the crash, and despite dawn not being long ago, the clouds were moving in, the wind coming up in gusts.

“Bucky.” Your brain very unhelpfuly supplied, then Zemo’s name and panic set in. Although, The super soldier could have survived that, Zemo had less of a chance. So you started shouting at the top of your lungs.

It took you what felt like hours to find the Sakovian. At first sight, you thought he was dead, you approached getting more horrified as you drew closer especially as a piece of jagged metal from the aircraft protruded from his abdomen but then his chest rose slow and almost non existent. Maybe you had imagined it?

Collapsing to your knees beside him and felt for a pulse. Zemo’s pulse was too weak to support life, and breaths far too shallow to oxygenate anything. Despite being trained in basic life support, it was not your first instinct, rather you cupped his face. Your heart rate kicked up several notches and your fingers trembled, as if the memory about Lemar had been a warning for what you were about to do. You tried not to think about how that had ended, how it had almost consumed you.

Zemo’s was different it was dark and it was like trying to find the switch on the wall, the terror that you felt now was not your own, this time you did it differently. You imagined taking his hand and suddenly he was there, the switch had flipped. Your abilities had never been a science, it had always been through learning that you bettered it and you couldn’t exactly say you had lots of practice —at least not with bringing people back from the brink of death. That was certainly a much more recent focus.

Sitting back and letting go of his face, you felt like you were gasping for air, pain piercing through your own chest as you tried to shake off the emotional transference of your connection. He sputtered, blood coming out his mouth, eyes fluttering open, full of pain. Bittersweet, this was the meaning of bittersweet.

“You better not die on me, Zemo.” You seethed at him, not even sure if he could understand you. “I’ll take the pain away in a moment, just hold on.” You instructed, and less intimately than his face, you slid your fingers up his sleeve and wrapped your fingers around his wrist where his glove ended, the cold met of the watch on his wrist pressing against the side of your hand.

It was simple really, you could get the body to essentially heal itself by focusing on the effected area, imagining the blood clotting, arteries sealing off, tissue stitching together and breathing without difficulties. And then finally blocking off that pain.

When you looked at Zemo again, his eyes were clearing, he looked more present than he had a moment ago.

“We need to get out of here, someone wanted to get rid of us, they will be coming to ensure they finished the job.” Zemo’s words made your chest tighten thinking about Bucky.

“We can’t go. If you move with this sticking out of you, it will cause more damage you’ll bleed to death. And if I pull it out, you’ll bleed to death.” You reminded him.

“I can’t go.” He emphasised and then your words blended together as you spoke over him. “Go get out of here, find James.”

“No I’m not leaving you out here to die.” God, you were a mess.

“Stubborn little bird.”

“You mean: thank you.” You chided at him. “Now, I need to spend more time carefully stitching this wound back together from the inside and then I’ll slowly pull this out. If you give me any trouble, I will make sure you are unconscious for all of it.” You threaten and Zemo stays silent glaring up at the sky. “Good.” You mutter and then despite the exhaustion already sagging your limbs, you started.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

“Stop.” Zemo’s hands wrap around your wrists to pull them away from him, it did not break the connection but it caught your attention. Night had fallen and there was still so much to do, it didn’t help that you were exhausted and that everything was much slower now. “You’re going to kill yourself, and you are no good to either of us dead.” Zemo’s voice firm and scolding, filled with clarity.

It makes hope surge into your chest that you are achieving something if he wasn’t completely out of it due to blood loss. “You will not survive another night in this cold.” An unfortunate part of the connection was that you had access to their mind as much as they had access to your thoughts and feelings. And he was right your teeth had stopped chattering a while back but your fingers were blue and you suspected half of your drowsy state was due to the dropping temperatures.

“A fire, I need a fire.” You pushed yourself to your feet, though it’s slow and stiff.

Zemo is out again when you’ve started the fire and slowly the cold becomes palpable again before it disappears as you warm up. Just a few hours, you convince yourself, you don’t care that there is nothing beneath you but dirt— too tired to care, you lie down a few feet away from Zemo facing him.

Touch. It had always been used as a weapon, you must have been six or younger when you had decided that you’d wear gloves no matter what. Whether it was a heat wave, or not, you would always make sure you would never accidentally hurt someone. You remember making that choice clearly in your mind, the moment would not be forgotten— you felt that anger seep through your skin, the hatred and it did not inspire the same emotions in you but instead made you want to hide. Her grip was like iron on your arms, keeping you right there as she ravaged through your mind like she was turning the house upside down, pushing things away, emptying drawers on the floor, not caring about the damage she left behind. You don’t know when she had stopped, when you had ended up on the floor, since when you couldn’t move or how long it would last. It took a week before you could talk normally again. You remember it all- except what you had done to make the woman, that you were supposed to call your mother, so angry with you. You knew barely anything except that your grandfather had been the first one to manifest abilities after he had been subjected to treatments in a concentration camp when he was young. A curse upon your family.

Warmth spread through you. A flash of a beach and a little boy zipping across the sand with contagious laughter. You cling to that feeling that was not your own.

It’s a crunch of branches that makes you sit up to listen, despite the panic that had set in, your cheeks feel wet but it tingles. As if someone had stopped tears in its tracks.

“You go left.” A whisper breaks the silence of the dead of night. You shift soundlessly and slip the knife from your boot, glancing at Zemo who is staring at you wide awake, his gloves are off and lying on his chest but you have no time to ponder it. Before you get up, Zemo grabs onto your wrist which holds the knife, a warning in his eyes. But you’re determined not to let anything happen to him or you. You place a finger to your lips, and break his grip, despite him not looking happy with the situation, he doesn’t say a word for fear of giving away your position. You don’t go far, there are two targets both searching the area with flashlights and lucky for you, you’re already dressed in black. You sink down behind a piece of the jet and wait.

“There’s someone there by the fire.” Two things are audible in the moments that follow, the steps across the earth becoming ever clearer and your heart beating in your ears. The man approaches Zemo slower when he’s close, and you watch as he shines the flashlight on him, Zemo’s eyes are closed and when he kicks him he flops like something dead. Thats when you move.

You take a risk then and there— you grab the man on his neck and say the words you are trying to embed in his mind. “You find nothing here, you want to search somewhere else.” You say but persuasion is a tricky thing to get right. He instead raises his pistol to your head. You embed your knife in his wrist and barely move out the way in time to avoid the shot. In a panic you grab onto the man again and this time his own eyes widen in horror as he lifts his pistol to his own chin and fires a shot. You fall back onto the ground when he collapses and shudders, trying to disentangle his fear from your mind and feeling like you’re failing, like you might just die right there and not knowing how to stop it.

“What the fu-“ a shot rings out again and the other target has collapsed a few feet away. It seems to sober you, the echo of gunfire through the valley for the second time, you scramble to your feet, plucking your knife out as you go and pushing what you had just done out of your mind. Making someone believe something is difficult, making them do something, albeit something they really didn’t want to do, much simpler.

“Are you okay?” You’re next to Zemo in a matter of minutes, he must have had a gun on him which he still clutches.

He ignores the question in favour of what he finds more important, “You need to take this out, or we will die here and all your efforts will have been for nothing. They will come searching for their men with more people.” He explains.

“I can’t just pull it out.” You protest, you see the determination in his eyes before he does the stupidest thing that he has possibly ever done in his life.

The piece of metal is out within a second, barely a grunt escaping his lips.

“What the fuck Zemo?!”

“ Just… pulled… out.” He says it slowly, each word with a breath in between. His eyes flutter.

“Hey hey!” You shout, not caring that your voice is traveling across the silent night. “You better stay awake!” You scramble to your feet and hop over him to place your unused knife into the fire, simultaneously you place pressure on the bleeding wound as the knife heats.

“Or what?” He manages, chest rising in quick motions, at least, he’s not coughing up blood…yet. Which means your inner most patching has worked.

“I’ll kill you myself.” You say through gritted teeth. You use his own gloves to wrap it around the handle of your knife which has become scorching hot. “I’m not sorry about this.” You say before you press the knife to the wound which he had created. Zemo screws his eyes shut and was having a hard time to stop himself from letting out a scream, he kicks at the ground as he tries to endure the pain. Okay maybe you were feeling a little sorry. You dared not to touch any part of his skin with your hands, not wanting to endure what he was currently going through. Finally when you figured there was no way that the vessels hadn’t cauterised by now you pulled the knife away. Zemo didn’t stay awake long enough after that.

The next hour —which you tracked on the watch on Zemo’s wrist— was spent checking his wound often, looking out for bleeding or any signs of a bulge forming underneath the skin but none of those things happened. Zemo’s chest kept rising every few seconds or so and the relief exponential but it didn’t last long. Despite having moved Zemo’s head into your lap and trying to think up a plan to get out of here, your thoughts kept drifting back to the body that lay a few feet away. You were half tempted to place your hand on Zemo’s forehead, it would be so easy to slip into his stream of consciousness and escape. You came close to almost doing it, as your fingers brushed his soot-darkened hair off his forehead, something you’d never do were he awake. When you couldn’t take it anymore, you did make contact to wake him, only you were the one being dragged down

He had seen a lot of dead bodies in his life. He had made quite a few too. But when skin was visible in that ruble. His heart had stopped. Living flesh was never that pale. He didn’t care that it was his bloody fingers staining the rocks, that they were aching, as he threw stone after stone off of them. But they had been cold to the touch, their limbs stiff— that was when the numbness had set in. And their faces, good god, their faces—

The realisation hit you that this wasn’t yours and like a flip of a switch you pulled back and woke him, all be it a bit sudden as if burned— no not burned… choked.

Zemo’s dark eyes stared up at you and he looked startled for a moment, piecing together how he’d gone from where he was to here.

Guilt settled in. “Sorry.” You cleared your throat, at the lump that sat there. Going into someone’s mind was never easy, strong emotions or images could distract or overpower intent. You didn’t realise your tears were falling until they hit his face. You tried to take deep breaths to calm yourself down. You knew they were not your emotions but there seemed to be no end at where yours begun and his ended “How do you even-“

“Schatz, breathe.” He interrupted before you can get your sentence out. How could he be so calm when he had faced that. His fingers slipped past your glove, pushing up your sleeve, much like you had done earlier that day to find his skin. You tried to pull away before you were faced with that again but this time there was nothing like that, it was the stillness before he took the shot as he laid his sight on the target. Utterly cold and calming , but the shot never came. And suddenly its like you had control again of your breathing and the burning in your eyes “Breathe.” His words were gentle and futile to ignore. “Little bird, that is not your song to sing. Let it go.” It was not an accusation but something far kinder, when you wiped your eyes you could see that keen interest in his eyes, not much different from the look he had given you when he’d first seen what you could do.

“Sorry,” you said again, “I can’t always stop-“ you start to explain because you had not intended to take what was not yours even if you had thought about it earlier.

“We need to get somewhere safe.” He redirects the conversation instead. The time was finally here, it was time to move. You help Zemo to role onto his side and sit up and he handles the pain well.

Your expedition is a slow and tedious process, Zemo has a lot of his weight on you and his bad side, which you manage with your good arm around his waist, you’re other the two of you had managed to slip back into it’s socket. Clearly Zemo knew a few things about field medicine, probably from his military background. It is well into the day and many breaks later that you find what you are looking for, a cabin in the woods. Which you are almost sure is also a horror movie but nothing appeals more to you than sleep in that moment. Your mouth is parched and your stomach feels like it might collapse in on itself with hunger but sleep seems more easily achievable.

You have to break the lock with rock, once inside you help Zemo onto the bed and out of his heavy coat, he releases a sigh once the weight of is gone. You sag next to it, you wont even be able to rumage the cabin for supplies, but still you fight sleep.

“You’ll freeze on the floor.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I’ll just conjure up a bed out of thin air.” You say, glancing over your shoulder at him, he regards you with a smirk.

“I remember you being much more diffident.” He comments. Its the hunger of course.

“Well deal. We’ve just been through the most together, so this is the version of me that you get.” You state. Zemo shifts behind you and you wonder if he’s turned away but then realise its Zemo and he doesn’t just let go of an argument. So you peak over a shoulder again. He’s shifted on the single bed up against the wall. And now holds the fluffy blankets aloft, you’d be lying if you didn’t consider it. Everything burns from the tips of your ears to your toes in your boots, as if you’d been set alight.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m not laughing.” Your pretty sure the only reason his lips are not tilted into a smirk is because he knows you’d never fold if he seems even a little bit victorious. “You said it yourself, we’ve been through more than enough.” He points out. It was a very effective tactic of his to use a person’s own words against them. Your mouth opened and closed in protest as you fumbled for words. “Whats sharing a bed, compared to kissing-“

“Oh my god, if I get in, would you please shut up?” You didn’t even wait for a reply as you pulled yourself up onto the single and lied down, despite feeling like you might combust at any second, all the while grumbling about him wearing you down. You had really hoped he’d somehow forgotten about that.

“Just grating.” The smirk was clear in his voice now, but you refused to turn around. Even as he draped the warm blankets over your form.

And then as if he didn’t show case enough of his audacity, he wrapped an arm around your middel and pulled until the warmt of his chest was firmly up against your back. You wish you could say you wanted to scramble right back out, or fight him or punch him or something but truthfully the shiver that wracked your spine had you lying there stock still for far too long.

You pushed at the arm still heavy around your middel when you could finally take in a breath but the Sakovian didn’t budge. You meant to sound scolding when you snapped his name but what came out was far too much like a weak protest. You blamed it on the warmth that had swallowed you up, and your completely exhausted body for misunderstanding your directions. Zemo’s sigh was too close in your ear as he seemed like he hadn’t heard but finally responded:

“Sleep, little bird, I will be vigilant.” That did nothing to help with the addictive feeling that raced back up your spine.

You were half on your way in to dreamland when you just had to blurt out. “I wonder if you would have cuddled Bucky, if he was here instead?”

“I’m sure he’d make for a lovely bed partner.” His tone was full of castigation as he responded, as if it was a stupid question to have asked.

Next Chapter

[oliverr-gardenn]

fuck hussle culture, the toad to success is to sleep well, eat well and have fun

[oliverr-gardenn]

i meant road. road to success

[jellycreature]

Reblog the Toad of Success to sleep well, eat well, and have fun

[joy-and-whimsy-official]

Joy and whimsy detected! The Toad to Success is joyful and whimsical!

[thebargainingchip]

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[thebargainingchip]

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Shameless Plugs 2.0 since crushon.ai sucks (my opinion)

[thebargainingchip]

Chat with Baron Helmut Zemo | dominant bisexual

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There are only two Baron Helmut Zemo chat bots available on crushon.ai, please we need more! Also shameless plug…

[patrochilles-or-bust]

Shout out to all the Black ppl that can no longer participate directly in the fandom they love because of the stresses of racism 👍🏾 you contain multitudes of value and I'm sorry that the color of your skin and the power of your voice makes people not want to acknowledge that.

[patrochilles-or-bust]

Yes, nonblack people can reblog. I'd appreciate it, in fact, if y'all took the time to vocally support your Black friends/fans in fandom.

[thebargainingchip]

I think I’ve found my latest most hated word… caress. Don’t know why it fucks with me but I could strangle it.

[3hobbitsinatrenchcoat]

[flowercrowngods]

when ao3 is back up i want all of you to leave comments on the fics you were interrupted from reading, the fics you were looking to find, the fics you were thinking about re-reading, and the fics left open in your tabs for months now.

when ao3 is back up, i want you all to show some love to your favourite writers, favourite fics, or even just the 600 word one-shot that brought a smile to your face that tuesday three weeks ago.

when ao3 is back up i want you all to remember that comments and explicitly voiced appreciation are what keep writers going.

[thebargainingchip]

My toxic trait is that if you have a story with less than a 1000 words, I exit your story and don’t even look at your masterlist.

[queenmeriadoc]

Reblog this if you are a safe space for fans of The Rings of Power

[thebargainingchip]

So what I find really funny on this hellsite, is that the same people who write fanfiction about Tolkien’s work (which is nothing like what Tolkien intended), love to criticise the Rings of Power. And thats just soooo funny!

Like okay, Agatha, sit down, maybe stop wasting your time writing essays about how much you hate the rings of power and go edit your fanfiction or something.

[werewolf-transgenderism]

men’s tummies. you agree. reblog

[3racha-agustd]

MY DILEMA EVERY DAY LOOKING FOR FANFICS.