#zemo angst

"Fuck, Zemo, don't stop." You pant heavily against his ear, faintly hearing your phone ringing from the bedside table.

Zemo reaches down and grips your face. "Focus on me, liebling, nothing else." He breathes out, keeping his eyes fixated on yours. "Is that clear, princess?"

Nodding in response, you can feel the coil inside of you tightening as a moan escapes your lips. "Helmut, I," You stutter, only to feel Zemo pick up his pace, slamming his dick in and out of you faster.

"Hold it, just think what would happen if James and Sam walked in, seeing you begging to cum beneath me." Zemo chuckles, feeling your nails claw at his back, begging for your release.

"Helmut, please," You try not to cry, but you can't hold on for much longer as he continues to thrust into you.

"Cum for me, Y/n." Zemo demands. "You can let go, princess." He softly tells you, watching you become undone beneath him, causing a smile to grow on his face as sweat gleams across your forehead.

Slowly pulling out from you, Zemo moans as he pulls off the condom and heads to the bathroom.

When he returns, he can feel his heartbeat accelerating at the sight of you lying in his bed, the sheets around you creased, your legs still parted and your eyes remaining closed.

"Y/n?" Zemo speaks up, watching you slowly opening your eyes only to see him holding a towel for you. "How about a bath, liebling?"

Smiling, you shuffle off of the bed with Zemo's help, his hand remaining in yours as you walk into the lavish bathroom, the tub close to full already.

"You better not try and escape whilst I'm relaxing, Baron." You quickly comment, looking over your shoulder, watching Zemo leaning against the doorframe with a smirk.

"On the contrary," Pushing himself off from the door frame, Zemo reaches out and brushes his fingers along your shoulders, feeling you shudder in response. "I wouldn't dream of leaving you." He whispers into your ear.

You quickly turn around, looking up at those brown eyes intently. "Helmut," You start, but Zemo shushes you before you can object.

"I mean it, Y/n." Zemo tells you, lifting his hand up to cup your cheek softly. "Now, come, the bath might overflow if you don't get in." He chuckles and brushes past you to turn the tap off.

"Thank you, Helmut." You mutter as you climb into the warm water, letting out a sigh of contentment whilst you lower yourself and close your eyes.

"How is it, mi schatz?" Zemo knows it's the perfect temperature, noticing how you're fully relaxed, a rare occurrence since he's known you.

Humming in response, you open one eye, noticing he's still stood there in a robe. "Why don't you join me? There's room for two I'm sure." You tease, bringing your legs close to your chest.

"Are you sure?" You can tell he's hesitant, but once you nod he removes his robe and motions for you to move forward, allowing him to slot in behind you.

The water spills over the edge at the sudden movement, but you lie back against Zemo's chest, your wet hair brushed over your shoulder as his hands settle on your thighs.

"Can you tell me a story?" You speak up after a moment of silence settled between you both.

Smiling down at you, Zemo nods. "What would you like to hear?"

"I, I'd like to know more about Sokovia. I know I wasn't there when," You trail off, knowing you don't have to explain yourself. "but, it was your home, part of who you are Helmut and I'd like, no I, I'd love to know about it."

You can feel your heart begin to hammer in your chest at Zemo's prolonged silence behind you. Yet, you can't bring yourself to glance up to see what he's thinking.

However, Zemo is trying to remain composed. "Of course," He eventually answers, hearing the breath of relief escape your lips. "well, when I was a child, my father had a farm which we used to visit on weekends,"

*

Pulling the soft robe tightly around you, you couldn't help but struggle to keep your eyes open as you wandered around the kitchen.

"Tired?" Zemo can hear you yawn before you're able to reply, listening to you laugh at yourself whilst he leans against the kitchen counter. "Why don't you lie down, you know I'm not going anywhere." He reassures you, seeing your limbs growing heavy as you shuffle around the counter to stand in front of him.

"I'll be fine, the boys won't be much longer." You mumble through another yawn, feeling your body craving sleep after that relaxing bath. "I blame you, Helmut." Pointing to him, you try your best to glare at him, but the sound of Zemo laughing makes it impossible.

Motioning to the sofa, Zemo rests his hand on your lower back in an attempt to guide you to the said sofa before you fall over. "Now, I'll be right back, I promise." He mutters as you pull on a cushion, burying it beneath your head. Leaning down, Zemo gently brushes your damp hair out from your face, taking a moment to admire how truly beautiful you are and kisses your forehead delicately.

"You are joining me, right?" You mumble through thick sleep, not even able to open your eyes to see Zemo nod as his heart melts.

"Of course, liebling. But I must change first." He assures you before retreating upstairs, knowing there's a fair bit of mess to clean up.

Whilst occupied in the bathroom and you in a deep sleep, neither of you hear the doors opening in a panic.

"Oh thank god." Sam sighs in relief to see you curled up on the sofa, not taking into account the robe you're wearing.

"Where's Zemo?" Bucky tenses up as he scours his peripheral where Zemo is nowhere to be seen. "Check on Y/n. Make sure she's not been given anything."

Rushing toward you, Sam pauses at the sound of footsteps approaching the main living space of the apartment.

"Ah, I was wondering where you two might've been." Zemo walks in, wearing a matching robe to yours as his hair is slicked back. "Did you have a pleasant adventure?" He smiles at the pair who only glare back in response.

"What did you do to Y/n." Bucky snarls, encroaching on Zemo's personal space.

"Nothing." Zemo answers, holding his hands up. "She could barely keep her eyes open so I insisted she took a nap." He explains, glancing over to your sleeping form, remembering how mere hours ago you were screaming his name.

"I doubt that." Sam comments, kneeling down in front of you as he shakes you lightly. "Y/n, come on." He mutters, causing you to stir.

"Helmut?" You whisper, unaware of Sam snapping his head around to Bucky and Zemo.

"Did she just?" Bucky doesn't even finish his question before Sam nods. Averting his focus back to Zemo, Bucky can't stop his frustration from rising. "What did you do to Y/n." He asks once again now clenching his fists tightly.

Opening your eyes, you rub them quickly at the sound of commotion. "What's going on?" Sitting upright, you blink a few times to see both Sam and Bucky standing by Zemo with heavy frowns. "Hey guys." You wave, covering your mouth as you yawn again.

"How long has this been going on?" Bucky demands, evidently disappointed as he looks over at you.

"James, please calm-" Zemo starts, but Bucky grabs the empty whiskey glass beside him and throws it against the wall, causing you to jump whilst Zemo remains stoic.

"How long." He asks again, not daring to take his eyes off of Zemo.

"Since Madripoor." You speak up, keeping your eyes trained on the ground as you tug on your robe. "Bucky,"

"I don't wanna hear it." Bucky cuts you off. "We can talk about this tomorrow." He sighs and heads back out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

"I'll go talk to him." Sam comments. "I, I don't agree with whatever this is, but I trust you Y/n, and Bucky does too." He nods to you before following after Bucky, leaving you and Zemo alone once more.

"Y/n," Zemo starts, but you can't help but crumble.

Tears start to fall from your eyes without hesitation as you curl up on the ground. Zemo sits beside you, wrapping his arms around you and turns you into his chest. "It's going to be alright, liebling." He hushes you, running his fingers through your hair.

"What if they won't forgive me, Helmut?" You hate to imagine what could happen, but you knew your actions would have eventual consequences.

"Oh, Y/n," Zemo sighs, wiping away your tears. "I know they'll come around. They're your friends after all." He admits, not adding the fact he might not be around for much longer. "Come, let's go to bed, yes?" He suggests and helps you to your feet.

Walking together in silence, you enter his bedroom again only to see the bed made with fresh sheets.

"Did you?" You look up at him to see a light blush crossing his cheeks. "You knew I'd end up back in your bed, huh?" You joke playfully, listening to Zemo chuckle whilst he shakes his head.

"I didn't know, but I'd hoped it would be the case." He shrugs his shoulder before pulling the sheets back and climbs in alongside you. "Now, whatever the morning brings, we'll face it together." He whispers into your lips before kissing you softly, never wanting to forget any of these moments with you.

Pulling away, you sigh. "You promise?" You whisper, just about making out his expression in the moonlight.

"I promise." He smiles at you once more before you bury your face into his chest, falling asleep within minutes whilst he remains wide awake. Zemo knows there are watchful eyes never leaving him and won't until he's back where he belongs, without you by his side.

"No, my son! My son is in there!" you screamed trying to claw past the guards, the military, keeping you from bringing your son back to safety.

"Ma'am-,"

"Carl!" you yelled as loud as your lungs would allow you, making your voice raw "Carl meine liebe! Carl can you hear me!"

Roughly, you pulled yourself away from the guards, taking a step back to address them.

"You're doing nothing for him! He's just a child! Let me get my son!"

"Ma'am it's too dangerous-,"

"Don't give me that-,"

You didn't have time to finish your sentence as the ground started to rumble, the building tumbling down into a pile of rubble and ashes in an already destroyed city.

You woke up, quickly pushing yourself upright, a cold sweat dripping down your forehead.

You knew what came next. It was always the same. The scream that ripped through your throat. Falling into nothingness while instead of sitting next to your son in the hospital while he recovered from a few minor injuries, you were sitting next to his casket. His hazel-coloured hair, parted slightly to the side, just like his dad's. The way he liked it.

And each time you woke up it felt more real than the last. Like you were back there. Watching the building fall while you stood helplessly.

The tears that dripped down your cheeks were old news, you'd find time to wipe them away at some point but you needed a minute. A minute to breathe.

Testing the waters you sling your feet over the bed, placing your toes on the cool wood flooring, bringing you slowly back to reality.

Standing was another challenge, but you took it step-by-step, wobbling to the washroom where you flicked on the lights, bending over the sink.

You didn't even notice how tightly you were holding onto the sides until the sink shook slightly with you while you sobbed.

You were so tired these days, it felt like it had been years since you had gotten proper sleep, you even half expected a pair of calming hands, holding your waist, pulling back your hair, tethering you to the present. But like always, there was nothing, but you supposed that was your own fault.

You managed enough strength to turn on the tap, splashing your face with cold water.

Drying your face you looked away from the mirror, unable to face yourself, instead trying to take some calming breaths the ones you used to think were bullshit but after your therapist had forced you to try it, well it was hard to go back.

Two through the nose. One out through the mouth.

Again and again, until your heart rate came to a rest.

Your eyes flicked to the bottle of sleeping pills next to your bed.

You didn't want to take them, medication, taking something for it made it seem so real, but your trouble with sleep didn't start with the death of your son.

Walking over slowly to your bed, you picked up the bottle, glancing at it for a long minute before two words came through your mind,

Fuck it

You popped open the lid, shaking out two pills into your hand, turning to look out of the window.

"You were right," you shook your head, speaking to your ex wherever he was. "Hope you're happy," you whispered, popping the pills in your mouth and climbing back into the bed that was far too large for one person, closing your eyes and letting the nightmares take you once more.

—

"Have you been back yet?"

"Hmm?" you asked, a tired glaze coming over your eyes. "Sorry, can you repeat that I-um I'm just tired,"

"Rough couple nights? You know if you took the-,"

"The pills, I know. I took them," you told her, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Honestly I think that's causing the drowsiness,"

"It's possible, but I'm glad you're giving them a try,"

"Yeah, I think that's going to be the first and only time," you admitted.

"Why is that?" your therapist asked. "Just from a point of curiosity, I won't force you to do anything,"

"They came back," you twitched, twiddling your thumbs and looking down at your feet. "As soon as I went back to sleep the nightmares came back and I couldn't get out,"

"I see," she nodded, writing something down in her notes.

"W-What was that question you asked? Before?"

"I was just wondering if you've been back to Sokovia, since after Ultron?"

You tensed, "Sokovia doesn't exist anymore," you said, trying to make sure your voice didn't hold a waver.

"I mean the memorial," she clarified. "The country may not exist but the land is the same,"

"What good would it do?" you asked. "Just to see his name on some plaque. It won't bring him back,"

"And what about your ex, do you have any contact with him?"

"No," you shook your head. "After the divorce I-," you chewed your lip. "I just tossed it all aside,"

"Maybe you should consider it," she suggested. "It might offer some sort of closure, he's probably going through the same things you are right now,"

"I'll think about it,"

"Try not to think too hard," she smiled kindly at you. "Same time next week as usual?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "Thanks again,"

"Just doing my job (Y/N), happy to help,"

You grabbed your purse and keys, standing up and making your way out of the small office building in downtown Riga.

The city was quiet now, it didn't use to be, but a part of you was grateful for the silence. It made it seem like maybe the rest of the world was on the same foot as you.

Driving back the same familiar route was like a small therapy in itself. It was one thing that didn't change. Stayed the same. Stability was something you needed now, more than anything.

You had barely even thrown your keys on the counter when you heard the doorbell ring and you wanted to let out a groan of displeasure, but you stopped yourself, walking down the stairs and peeking through the door hole, your heart almost stopping when you saw who was on the other side.

You debated just ignoring it, going back upstairs, but when you heard,

"(Y/N) I know you're in there,"

You didn't have much of a choice.

Clicking the lock, you gently swung the door open, looking straight into chestnut eyes you would have maybe been happy to see last night.

"(Y/N)," he smiled. "It really is lovely to see you, it's been a while no?"

"What do you want, Helmut," you sighed.

"My home," he said, motioning to the interior with his eyes.

"Yeah, this used to be your home, emphasis on used,"

Finally, you took a minute to see who was with him, curious as to the fact that you recognized them both.

"You've got yourself some... interesting company Helmut,"

"I'm sorry," one of them responded, clearly more of an understanding temperament to him. If you remembered his name correctly it was Sam Wilson. "We assumed this was his home. I know at least I wasn't aware there was someone else staying here, we can be out of your hair-,"

Helmut held up his hand and cut Sam off from speaking, he looked a little offended but obeyed.

"It's just a few days, we have some work to do in the city then you'll never have to see us again,"

Under any other circumstances, it would have been an immediate no. But you knew the men that were with him were good people, they didn't deserve to be turned away like that and damn if Carina hadn't said something earlier today. It would be easier to get it over with now that he was here.

"Fine," you muttered. "No messes, don't touch my stuff and I swear to God Helmut do not make me regret this,"

"Of course volyena-,"

"Don't," you pointed a warning finger at him. "Don't call me that,"

"Apologies, it slipped," he nodded and you took a short breath, moving away from the doorway and allowing the three men to come in, your ex-husband showing them upstairs.

"Please, make yourselves at home," you looked at his two companions, "Helmut knows where everything is so-," you shrugged and they nodded allowing you to make your exit into the living room, picking up a magazine that had probably been sitting there for decades, just flipping through the pages.

"You known Zemo long?" you could hear Sam's voice asking you while he took a seat on the opposite couch.

"You could say that," you nodded, turning your head and watching the man pour tea into a few separate cups.

"He always been such a pain in the ass?" the other asked and Sam nudged his shoulder.

"James right?" you asked him back and he nodded. "Sometimes," you responded to his questions. "He had his moments,"

"Thank you," the Baron gave you a hint of a smile while handing you a warm glass of tea.

Glancing down you saw the label on the teabag and frowned.

"H-How did you know? It's been seven years since we've seen each other and you still remember the tea I like?"

"You don't like change (Y/N)," he said with a small shrug, sitting down next to you. "Plus you seem to forget I used to bring it to you every morning,"

"Are you two like married or something?" Sam asked, a confused frown dawning his features.

"Were," you emphasized. "We were married,"

"So he definitely was a pain in the ass then," Bucky said, finally taking a seat and you pursed your lips.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," you whispered. "M-Maybe we could change the topic?"

The men nodded and easily switched into another conversation, giving you a chance to just sit and listen to their interactions.

They had made a small plan for themselves and decided to stay low for a night before trying to get any information for whatever it was that they were doing, honestly you couldn't care less.

The guest rooms were already set up, not having been touched in ages, allowing both Sam and Bucky to go to bed early and get a good night's rest.

Helmut on the other hand took a seat by the window, admiring the city from afar, possibly reflecting, but you really didn't know what went on in his mind.

So you did something you could handle, going into your room and grabbing a box. A box of all his things, the ones he was supposed to pick up, the things he never came back to get. Maybe this was the closure Carina was talking about.

"Helmut?" you said softly and he turned around immediately at the sound of your voice, seeing the box you carried. "I-um...I'm not sure if you remember but you were supposed to come to pick up some things from me... after the divorce."

"You kept them all this time?"

"They're your things I didn't really have much other use for them...I suppose I could've thrown them out,"

He stood up from his seat, carefully walking towards you and glancing down at the box and its contents.

A small package caught his eyes and he picked it up, untying the string holding it together to reveal a pile of photos.

"These are all our wedding pictures," he frowned. "You don't even want to keep some of them?"

"Like I said," you shrugged. "I don't have any use for them,"

That was a lie, you did keep one photo. Even if it was only one and you took it out from your desk from time to time just to remember, remember what life was like before.

He sat down on the coffee table next to the box, still looking down at the photos in his hand.

"You look unwell volyena," his eyes flickered up to you for a fleeting moment and your breath was caught in your throat. As if you were guilty of something. "If-,"

"I want to talk about it, right?" you asked and he nodded.

"There's nothing to say Helmut, it's been seven years," you whispered. "Seven years since I've held my son in my arms and that number will only get bigger,"

"I-,"

"No," you interrupted him again, "Let me finish."

He pursed his lips and nodded,

"Everyone moved on Helmut, even you but every single night I'm there," you told him. "I'm right outside that building, watching him die all over again," the pain that was laced through your voice stung him like a bite from a venomous snake. "So yes, I'm unwell and I don't think it's something that will change, there will always be a part of me that is unwell,"

After a short silence where you didn't think he was going to respond, you turned around to leave.

"I didn't move on," he whispered softly, stopping you in your tracks and turning around.

"What?" you asked, not hearing him properly the first time.

"You said I've moved on. I haven't," he said simply. "Whatever you're going through, it's not alone. The pain is something I carry too,"

"That still doesn't explain everything that happened. Everything that happened afterwards... you vanished,"

"You had every right to leave me," he assured you, taking your hand in his. "I wasn't there when you needed me most. My biggest regret,"

You took your hand away from him and shook your head.

"Helmut, I can't do this,"

"Then don't, but at least let me be here for you while we're staying with you," he begged. "Please,"

You didn't respond, only turning your back to him and walking towards your room, the one you used to share.

"I didn't give you all the wedding pictures," you said before walking into your room, turning back on your heels. "The one my cousin took of the two of us when we snuck off into the gardens to have a moment alone. I kept that one,"

He opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it, only giving you a thin-lipped smile and nodding, allowing you to retreat into the room, but it was already clear that neither one of you would get a good sleep.

—

When you walked out the next morning you looked at the kitchen curiously, noticing all three men were awake.

"Did I sleep in?" you asked, "Or are you all just early risers?"

"Military," Bucky said simply and you nodded, remembering the early days when Helmut had just come back from fighting in the Sokovian civil war, he'd be up at five-thirty in the morning on the dot. Every single day.

"Can I make you guys something to eat or have you already taken care of that?"

"Something to eat would be wonderful," Sam nodded. "And thank you again for letting us stay here,"

"It's not a problem," you gave him a small smile. "It's actually nice to have people back in the house. When my son was young we used to have dinner with his friend's families and the place would be so bright,"

"I remember that," Helmut smiled wistfully. "He made friends so easily we probably did it twice a week each time with a new person,"

You nodded, "He'd come home and say mama we have to invite them all so they don't get left out!"

"He sounds very considerate, my nephews, they're oblivious to that kind of stuff, but they're learning," Sam smiled. "Does he go to school abroad? Or is he just out of the-,"

Sam saw the look Bucky gave him and he stopped his sentence.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry for bringing it up," he apologized quickly.

"It's alright," you assured him. "It's not often I get to speak of him in a happy context, thank you for that," you came up to him and gave him a gentle hug which he gracefully accepted. "Now why don't we do pancakes, I know Helmut liked those, hasn't changed I'm assuming,"

He nodded to confirm and both Sam and Bucky seemed to be alright with that choice so you didn't waste another minute to get started.

"Can I help?" Helmut asked.

"Actually, I was thinking maybe you could do the cooking, you know I always miss the mark,"

"Burnt or undercooked," he chuckled softly to himself. "I'd be happy to,"

And for a second, it was like things never changed. Like it was still Sunday morning and you were both up early together, making pancakes and waiting for Carl to wake up.

After you finished the batter and handed it off to Helmut you focused your attention on cutting up some fruits to put on the side that could be eaten with the breakfast food along with authentic maple syrup and not whatever corn syrup crap that wasn't imported.

Halfway through cutting you realized you had some strawberries in the fridge that needed to be used so you turned to make your way there, only to bump straight into Helmut who was heading in the opposite direction.

"Oh! Sorry," you said, slightly startled.

"It's alright," he said while you both did a little shuffle, attempting to sneak past each other but keep getting in each other's way.

Finally, Helmut took initiative, grabbing you gently by the waist and rotating you both so you were in the places you needed to be.

You felt yourself coughing and averting your gaze trying to draw attention away from your flustered self, but probably just doing the exact opposite.

After all that you could feel his burning gaze on your back and you wondered if maybe he still looked at you the same way he used to. Back when you were stupid twenty-year-olds, getting in trouble, sneaking around, falling in love.

Did he look at you and see that same person from all those years ago?

"Food's ready," Helmut's voice broke you out of your thoughts and you helped bring the things to the table.

After breakfast they were quick to leave the house, scouting around for some information, not that you really knew what was going on in the first place.

It gave you time to collect yourself a bit, cleaning up the dishes with some soft music playing in the background, your mind constantly travelling back to your ex-husband.

It was almost...nice having him back in the house. Even though this wasn't the house you had shared together long term, that having been in Novi Grad and destroyed along with everything else there, it was still comforting. Like the change of his absence was part of the pain you were feeling and now that pain was gone because the change had been reversed.

Hopping into the shower your thoughts stopped, focusing instead on the little things like the feeling of the water hitting your back or the slightly cool breeze coming through the window.

When you climbed out you grabbed your bathrobe that was hanging around the door, tying it around your waist and unconsciously making your way towards your desk.

Before you knew it your hand reached to one of the drawer handles, pulling it ajar and grabbing its only content.

A small framed picture sending you almost twenty years back in a half faded memory.

You clutched onto your newlywed husband's hand tightly as he pulled you through the small gravel pathway away from the large fancy banquet hall where the reception was being held.

"Helmut slow down I'm going to trip over this damn dress!" you giggled, but he only tugged you into him with a bit more force than intended, sending you slamming into his chest and falling down onto one of the benches with a shriek.

"Shh," he chuckled, holding his hand over your mouth. "Do you want them to figure out we snuck out of our own wedding or what?"

"Oh hush," you lightly slapped his chest. "But seriously do you think they'll notice we're gone?"

"No, I think we have some time," he nodded.

"It seems so ironic, it's our day and yet I've barely seen you,"

"Yes, well, we're going to have to correct that," he gave you a wide smile, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours in a brief kiss.

"You're still wearing your glasses meine liebe,"

"Meine liebe, where did you pick that up?" he asked with a chuckle. "They will riot if they found out my so-called Sokovian wife was using these foreign terms of endearment," he joked.

"I heard someone say it in Germany," you admitted. "I don't know, I just... I thought it suited you," you straightened his tie, looking back up at him through the brown rims of his glasses.

"You don't like them?" he asked.

"No, I love them," you assured him. The way his hands shakily took them out of his pocket during the ceremony so he could read his vows, you found it adorable how nervous he was, but you knew it wasn't marrying you that scared him. He always thought you deserved better, but you wanted him, through and through. "Here let me try them on, we'll see if I can pull them off,"

You carefully pulled the glasses off his face and slid them onto yours, blinking a few times to adjust to the prescription.

"They're not that bad," you chuckled. "How do I look?"

"Adorable," he hummed, a hand of his coming to cup your face and bring you in for a sweet kiss."Okay I have to take these off before I go blind," you exaggerated and gave them back to your husband.

Husband. It sounded so surreal. He was your husband.

He put his glasses back on at your request, leaning his forehead against yours, just breathing it all in.

The smell of the flowers, his faint cologne, the vibrant colours of the nature surrounding you. It was heavenly.

"I love you volyena," he murmured, his hands intertwined with your own.

"I love you too, but what do you prefer, Baron or Colonel?" you teased.

"Neither, for you, Helmut. To the world we can be Baron and Baroness Zemo but for us. Helmut and (Y/N),"

"Or volyena and meine liebe,"

"Yes, or that," he smiled. "One more kiss for the road?"

"If you insist," you grinned, turning your head slightly to better press your lips to his, savouring every moment, down to the faint taste of coffee on his lips.

You reached a hand up to your lips, like the feeling of him pressed against you was still there, still vivid as it was the day it happened.

"(Y/N)?" there was a small knock on the door and his head peeked through the small opening. "You're here...good,"

"Find what you were looking for?" you asked, placing the frame back inside the drawer and closing it.

"Somewhat, we'll have to wait another day to see if things work out," he explained. "May I come in?"

You nodded and he opened the door wider, slipping into the room and taking a seat across from you on the bed.

"Do you need something? Want something?" you asked him while he stared back at you.

"I..." he paused as if debating whether it was a good idea to bring it up. "I haven't seen his face in almost seven years,"

"A picture," you murmured and he nodded.

"If you have one,"

You didn't hesitate to get up and quickly walk over to your bedside table and open the small cupboard embedded in it, taking out an album and bringing it to Helmut, sitting down next to him while he took a moment before opening it.

It started with his baby pictures, it was an album you had started back when he was born and each year on his birthday you'd add the previous year's photos to it.

There were many of him asleep in Helmut's arms, half of which he had fallen asleep right along with him.

"You were always so tired," you mumbled. "Even later on, do you remember what he'd do?"

He nodded, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"He would come onto my lap and run his hand over my eyes to close them and say papa sleep we can play later you're tired,"

"And then he'd fall asleep on top of you,"

He flipped through a few more pages of the book, finding a photo of the scene you were describing from when Carl was five.

Right next to it was a photo of the three of you together, taken by a hired photographer in one of your father-in-law's large estates. Carl was finding it hard to sit still for a serious family portrait so you humoured him into doing some goofy faces and something a little more casual just sitting on the couch like a regular family.

"I always liked those photos more than the one we had to print for the painter," he said softly, "He looks happier,"

"So do we," you noted, glancing at your bright smiling face staring back at you.

You felt like a shell of the person you were all those years back.

Helmut turned to face you, gently holding your upper arm while he leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering maybe a moment longer than they should have, but you didn't have it in you to fight him. The warmth that came with his kiss was something you hadn't felt in years and you weren't prepared to push that away.

"Thank you," he whispered, pulling back away from you.

You pursed your lips and nodded, reaching over and pulling out the photo from the album.

"Take it with you," you said, handing it to him. "You should have it,"

He thanked you again and stood up from where he sat on your bed. Going back the way he came and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

—

It was probably half-past three when you woke up that morning, a scream caught by in your throat, sending you up and rushing out of your room.

Quickly you ran over to the deck, trying to open the door as quietly as possible and finally exhaled when the cool air hit your skin.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Jesus Helmut!" you exclaimed quietly, one hand over your heart to indicate your surprise while the other furiously wiped away tears.

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he stood up from his seat and came to stand next to you.

You didn't have the energy to respond, your arms leaning against the railing while you covered your face with your hands, sobbing quietly.

It seemed as though Helmut froze. All this time he knew you were hurting, but for it to get to the point where you didn't even bother to hide your tears, that was something that needed to be rectified.

And finally, after all those nights of dreaming and wishing it, you felt those hands against your waist, thumbs tracing soft and carefully thought out circles, like he was reminding you he was there, feeling everything with you.

Your mind wanted so badly to hate him, resent him for leaving you behind, for giving up on you without a fight, but deep inside you knew you'd always love him, no matter what.

His hands after a while, carefully shifted, turning you around to face him so he could bring you into his chest. There was no doubt his nightshirt would be soaked in minutes.

"Come on let's get you back to bed," he whispered.

You shook your head adamantly.

"No, I-I can't they're just going to come back," you hiccoughed.

"I'll stay with you," he said, and it wasn't really a suggestion, more like an insistence.

"Hel-,"

"Volyena let me stay with you please, let me help you,"

You chewed on your lip and finally nodded your head, letting him lead you back inside to the large master bedroom.

He pulled back the sheets on the untouched side of the bed and slipped under them while you went to the other side. He motioned for you to come closer, and you did so, resting your head on his chest, letting his arm wrap around you and find itself in your hair, scratching your scalp gently.

"Helmut?" you whispered faintly, voice broken.

"Yes, my love,"

"Thank you,"

—

If it weren't for the faint clicking and rustling you heard you would have been fast asleep, not a worry in the world, but there was a civil war going on, sometimes you seemed to forget that and all of a sudden you were on full alert.

You quickly ran into your closet, grabbing one crutch from when you had broken your leg as a young teenager, the only suitable weapon you had in the house besides your father's rifle, but you doubted it was anything. You'd be fine.

"Who's there?" you called quietly. No answer.

You reached the curtains and held one of them bunched up in your hand, taking a deep breath and pulling them back in a swift motion, screaming when you saw the man clad in military uniform in the dark on your balcony. The door finally clicked open and you felt a hand on your mouth and you finally realized who it was.

"Shh! Someone's going to hear you!"

"Helmut what the hell are you doing here?!" you exclaimed in a stressed whisper, pulling his hand off your mouth and tossing the crutch in your hand over to the couch. "There's a curfew, you're not supposed to be here,"

"I-I needed to see you (Y/N)," he said in almost a begging tone, his hands gently cupping your face. "I had to see you before I left,"

"And you leave tomorrow Helmut, how did you think you were going to get across boundary lines in the city and make it back before morning, you could get killed!"

"I might as well be dead if I couldn't see you,"

"Helmut what's going on," you murmured, pushing the hair away from your young boyfriend's forehead.

"(Y/N) I'm..." his answer became stuck in his throat. "I'm scared," he confessed. "I-I didn't want to die without seeing you one last time,"

"Helmut you're not going to die," you said firmly. "Okay, you can't die. I won't let you,"

The corner of his lip twitched slightly upward at that.

"The war will end and you'll come back to my door the same way you did tonight and you're going to ask me to marry you, you understand? I'm expecting nothing less,"

"Yes ma'am,"

"Now give me a kiss," you whispered softly, your fingers brushing against his cheek. "Please,"

"Yes ma'am," he repeated and lowered his head down, capturing your lips with his own in a soft and slow movement, becoming more and more desperate as time went on, his hands gripping onto you so tight for fear of losing you if he let go. But when your lips parted he was still there, you were still there.

"Come and lay with me a bit," you breathed. "You'll have to leave before sunrise,"

He nodded in understanding and followed you to the small bed with soft and plush blankets, you had it better than most in the city and for that you were grateful.

It wasn't the first time Helmut had stayed with you. Sneaking in at the late hours of the evening just to lay down next to you. But soon he wouldn't have to do that, because just like you said he was going to come back, and you were going to get married. Start your life together. And for a minute he wasn't so scared because he believed you. He believed that everything would be alright, just like you promised.

—

The next day, before you even got up all three of the men had left the house, off to pursue the lead they had been given the previous day. You sighed heavily, missing the warmth of the body next to you, but you filled the small hole with a warm shower and a breakfast of tea with jam and bread.

You weren't sure what you were expecting to happen, but it clearly wasn't what came next.

Helmut came stumbling in, Sam and Bucky behind him, looking unimpressed. He was holding his face like he had been stuck there and you frowned.

"What happened?"

"We encountered a bit of a roadblock," Sam said, attempting to put it lightly. "It wasn't his fault though he just got stuck in the middle of it,"

"Vibranium shield to the face," he mumbled and you nodded.

"Do you need anything?" you asked your ex specifically first, making sure he was tended to.

"Some whiskey and a cold washcloth would do wonders," he groaned, sitting carefully on the couch and laying back.

You poured him a glass of whiskey in the alcohol cupboard and then turned to Sam and Bucky.

"What about you both? No secret injuries?"

"You can trust her," Helmut interjected, laying the towel across his eyes. "She served as a trauma surgeon during the Sokovian civil war,"

"We're fine," Bucky assured you, just as the doorbell rang. "And now I have a feeling that might change,"

"Let me get it," you said before any of them could fight you.

You opened the door to a man in a red and blue uniform, pushing past you along with his partner.

"Where are they?!" he asked angrily walking up the stairs.

"Um excuse me?" you spat, rushing up after them and walking into the living room before they could.

"(Y/N) I wouldn't-,"

You cut Sam off, too blinded by your anger to care.

"I'm sorry, but it's not polite to barge into someone's home unannounced," you looked him dead in the eyes, not wavering on your position.

The man tried to come forward, but you took a step in his direction, stopping him from doing so,

"Don't you fucking dare," you seethed.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked you back, an arrogant cockiness in his voice, demanding, not the good kind.

"Yes, I do know who you are, but who you are doesn't mean two shits, everyone knows you're just desperately trying to fill shoes that were meant for him," you pointed to Sam. "Pathetic,"

Bucky gave Helmut and Sam a look and said, "Well I think it's safe to say I respect your wife and she's not the only person who thinks those things," he looked over to Sam who rolled his eyes, having already expressed his very valid reasons for not taking the shield.

You didn't even feel the need to correct him when he referred to you as Helmut's wife, that didn't matter right now.

"So, I suggest you get your sorry privileged American ass out of my house before I call the cops," you said, looking directly at John.

"I could say the same, your husband is a wanted fugitive," he took a step closer, now looking directly down at you and Helmut stood up, despite his injury, prepared to come to your aid, but you stopped him.

"I said," you inched forward only slightly before placing your hands on his chest and pushing him backwards. "Get the fuck out of my house!"

"John maybe we should-,"

"I warned you, tell Interpol I said hi,"

The two finally left the house and you didn't waste a second, turning around to address Helmut.

"Don't say a fucking word," you pointed at him. "Not a fucking word,"

He raised his hands in defence and you scoffed.

"What the hell are you even doing?! Did you really think oh let me go put myself and my ex-wife in harm's way just so I can fulfil some stupid meaningless goal because I'm a selfish self-centred pig? Because that's what it seems like!"

"(Y/N)-,"

"Helmut, a fugitive!"

"I'm sorry, but what did you think I was?" he asked.

"I don't know?! I guess I just hoped maybe they had let you out, but I should know never to get my hopes up with you,"

"Okay (Y/N) what is this really about," he asked, calmly, placing his glass on the table, standing across from you.

"What is this-" you pinched the bridge of your nose. "Sam, James can you give us a minute please," you whispered.

The two men nodded and left the room, leaving just the two of you.

"Do you want to know what this is really about Helmut? Maybe it's about the fact that after our son died you decided the right thing to do was go and become a terrorist instead of helping your wife pick up the pieces of her broken life!" you screamed at him, letting it all out, no filter. "Maybe it's the fact that you didn't fight for me when I said I wanted a divorce! The fact you couldn't see that I clearly still loved you! Maybe it's the fact that you killed innocent people in your vendetta! Maybe it's the fact that it's your fucking fault my son is dead in the first place!"

Saying it out loud tore your heart out of your chest and you couldn't stop yourself from clutching onto your shirt and breaking down into loud sobs, echoing through the house.

Helmut didn't say anything, only coming up to you and wrapping his arms around your shaking frame. You tried to push him away, hitting his chest lightly, but he stayed firm until you couldn't fight back anymore, your knees buckling as you let him take the majority of your weight.

His nose was buried in your hair, tears spilling out of his eyes and onto your head, his shaky warm breath causing you to grab onto his shirt, baling the fabric in your fists.

"It's okay voylena," he said in a quiet voice, laced thick with heavy emotion breaking more with every word. "It's okay," he repeated. "I blame myself too,"

He blamed himself for everything. What happened to Carl, for the divorce, for your well-being. If only he had known what would happen, then he wouldn't have told you to take Carl to the city, to go to that building, to be among people who were supposed to keep you safe. Maybe if he had known he could have avoided all this pain and heartache. Maybe, just maybe you could still be a family.

But the time had passed, there was no bringing his son back, there was no taking away your pain. So he did the only thing he could do. He didn't stop loving you.

“why are you still with me?” helmut questioned, deciding at the time to interrupt the shared silence. you glanced up from your book, dipping a finger to mark your spot, and chuckled, “what kind of question is that, helmut?”

he fidgeted with the gold necklace he always wore around his neck: a keepsake from his past that he no longer spoke of. when his eyes met yours, you were taken aback by the solemnity in his gaze; the question was one that seemed to hold weight on his mind, and your answer would either keep him afloat or drag him under.

“hel, where's this coming from?” you swivel your body to face him, hands reaching up to grasp his face, the pads of your thumbs smoothing over the slight stubble sprinkled over his jaw.

“you know the man I used to be,” he started, hesitancy in his tone, “the things I've done that I thought were right... justified,” he rambled, distress marking his features.

“while I may be a free man, there are still people from my past out there in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike me where it pains me the most... you.” his thin lips quiver at the thought, “and I don't think I could ever forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

“so, you think – for that very reason – I should leave you?” you ask, disbelief written all over your face.

“love, I don't want this life for you. to be constantly relocating, putting your life at risk, wondering when you'll finally have some semblance of normalcy.” he pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, “look, all I'm saying is–”

you cut him off with a finger to his lips, “the man you were 10 years ago is not the same man you are now. why can't you see that? I chose to be with you, I knew what came along with the decision.”

the bedsheets rustled underneath you as his arms sought your waist; head carefully tucked in your collarbone, warm breaths fanning over your neck. you mindlessly skim your hand through his chestnut locks, massaging his scalp with the tips of your fingers, reveling in his pleased hum.

“don't say anything else, just stay,” he whispered; vulnerability evident in the way his arms tightened their hold on your body – afraid that you would slip away, like you always did in his nightmares.

“I'm not going anywhere, hel. I don't care what happens, I can handle this. all I want is for you to trust me, okay?”

you feel him nod against you – words abandoning him in favor of a physical agreement.

for the rest of the night, murmurs of reassurances and promises filled the short space between the two of you.

Steve was a fucking twat. You knew that much. He'd taken the dictionary definition of the word and multiplied it by ten. Not only had he left you behind all those years ago, but now he was throwing it back in your face. Dangling your freedom right in front of your face like someone teasing a young, naive puppy.

The worst part was that some sick, twisted part of you wanted to think about; wanted to day dream about the idea of you and him, going back to how it used to be. Before you were both worn down by the weight of reality, before you'd seen the ugliest sides of each other. Maybe that was the problem now - you'd seen the most twisted parts of Steve Rogers and it had driven you away from him. If he could find it within himself to forgive you, why couldn't you do the same? What was holding you back from throwing aside the difficulty of the last few years and just...going back?

You were leaning against the wall of the hotel room, baggy SHIELD-issue clothes hanging off your body like shedding skin. What an ugly metaphor.

Dusting off your knees, you stood up and ventured over to the door. It was locked from the outside - you raised your fist and tapped twice.

"What do you want?" the guard from the outside asked.

"To speak to Steve," you called back, "...Captain Rogers, I mean."

"About what, inmate?" he sniffed, "he's a busy man."

"I know, but he'll make time for me," you pushed. "Please? It's about my plea deal."

"Fine," he sighed, "I'll go and get him. Don't go anywhere."

You snorted. "You're funny."

Maybe you were pushing your luck with this one - but if Steve really loved you, then he'd do ask you asked. He'd gone out his way before to give you everything you wanted, and you were hoping he still held onto that value. He'd changed beyond recognition but some part of your old self wanted to find his. You'd gone through hell and back and, as anyone would have, you'd changed. Grown, withered, scarred, ran - whatever you'd done, you were no longer the same. Somehow, though, Steve's presence was bringing that old side of you back out.

There was a gentle knock, and a moment later Steve stuck his head around the door. He didn't look like Captain America now, but rather the man you used to know. Tufty blonde hair and tired blue eyes, with a loose fitting plaid shirt and look of concern etched on his features.

No, dammit, you thought to yourself, have a fucking back bone!

"Hey," Steve quietly greeted you. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah," you crossed the room, nervously playing with your hands. "I do."

"What's going on?" he asked. "Have you made up your mind?"

"Not yet," you replied. "There's one more thing."

Taking a seat at the foot of the bed, you patted the space next to you. For the sake of trying to think clearly and make a rational decision, you'd shoved aside your personal feelings, choosing just to look at the facts. You and Steve had been together for five years - he'd looked after you. He'd had your back in every aspect of the word and he'd made you feel safe. Then, he'd shoved you out into the cold - isolated you from his own world and shut you out - when things got complicated.

That was when Zemo had come in; he'd kept you company during the loneliest time of your life. When the one person who should have stayed by your side locked you out in the cold, he'd done the emotional equivalent of taking your hand and giving you his jacket.

The old you had loved Steve. The new you loved Zemo. The problem was, they co-existed in side of you in some sort of fucked up Jekyll and Hyde situation.

"This isn't an easy decision, Steve," you explained. "I'm not choosing between you and him. I would never let any part of my life be valued by which men want me."

"I know," he nodded.

"I'm choosing between being loyal to the person who has protected me the last three years or my freedom," you continued. "Because if I choose the latter, I'm betraying someone I care about."

"He ripped apart our family-"

"You did that yourself," you snapped. "do you know how isolated I was when I was out there on my own? There were times when I nearly died because I let myself, because being dead felt like a better alternative than losing my goddamn identity! He saved me from myself more than once."

"This-"

"- let me finish," you stood up. "I loved you, Steve. I loved you so fucking much to the point where I gave up everything for you and...and you just threw it back in my face like it was nothing."

"I know," Steve stood up too, broad frame coming close to you. "God, I know. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I'm just trying to make it right."

"By manipulating me?" you shot back. "By taking my literal fucking freedom and dangling it in front of my face?"

"That's not what this is about," he insisted. "I brokered that plea deal before I knew anything about you and Zemo...canoodling-"

"- you're a grown man, Steve," you deadpanned. "Use a better word than canoodling."

"Fine. I did it before I knew that you two were in love? Is that better?"

"Yeah," you folded your arms across your chest. "But that's nothing to do with the decision I'm making. I'm thinking about his actions and what he's done for me rather than my personal feelings."

"Smart," he muttered. "What did you even want to talk about?"

"I need to see him."

"I can't do that."

"You can," you said. "And you will."

--

Steve was gone nearly an hour before he came back with Zemo - after all, there was a lot of clearance that was needed from a lot of people, even just to transport an internationally criminal five doors down to see another internationally wanted criminal.

It had been just over half a day since you'd seen Zemo. You weren't that far off from going crazy with worry over him - you knew he'd been fine (he was a crafty bastard after all) but he'd been by your side for the better part of three years. There hadn't been a single day without him. You could easily get by on your own but that didn't mean you wanted to.

Steve didn't bother knocking this time round - instead, he burst in the room and shoved Zemo inside. He sauntered in, giving the super soldier a little wave as Steve slammed the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, and as soon as you were alone, he dropped his suave act.

Meeting you half way across the room, your bodies slammed together - Zemo pulled you into a tight and wrapped his arms around you. He just held you for a minute, because this time yesterday, he wasn't sure if he would again. He'd lost everything before and the second SHIELD burst through the door, he felt that all-consuming pain for a second time. He never meant for you to become everything to him.

"What's going on?" he gently asked. "Why have they let me see you?"

"Steve didn't explain it, did he?" you said.

"No. He hasn't said anything to me at all," Zemo gently rubbed his hands up and down your arms as he spoked, brow furrowed with concern. "You look scared. Are you okay?"

"He got me a plea deal," you murmured.

"That's...that's good, isn't it?" he said. "A shorter sentence and a comfier bed is never a bad thing."

"No, not like that," your eyes fell to the floor, "they're going to drop the charges completely."

"What's the catch?"

"How do you know?"

"There's always a catch, my darling," he softly smiled. "It's okay, you can tell me."

"I have to give them everything I have on you," you sighed, "but I'm not doing it. Steve is only using it as leverage to manipulate me into being in his debt-"

"- I don't think he's manipulating you," Zemo cut you off. "I think he's just doing everything within his Earthly power to win you back. I'd do the same if I could, if I'd hurt you that badly."

"He can't win me back," you huffed.

"So don't let him," he said. "Take the deal and get a fresh start. Move away from here, from him-"

"- but what about you?" you took his hands in yours, tightly intertwining your fingers.

"You talk, I go to prison for a long time. You don't talk, I go to prison for a long time," Zemo reminded you. "My destiny has been set in stone for a long time."

"I can't betray you."

"You have my permission," he said. Pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, he pulled you into another tight hug.

"I'm sorry," you murmured.

"Don't be," he replied.

You didn't want to cry. It sucked - almost as much as this whole situation, but what else could you do when everything you knew had come crashing down around you? The life you'd built with Zemo was far from ideal, but it was yours, and it was his, and it was deeply complicated little world that you enjoyed.

"D'you think you'll go to the Raft?" you asked.

"Probably," he replied. "You can write me letters."

"Right, yeah," you nodded.

"I expect to see post cards from Italy and Spain and Germany, and all the countries you'll be exploring now that you're free," he softly smiled. "But most of all, please don't let me hold you back. From a future, or from Steve - and I know what you're going to say, but your first love is always the one you'll never quite let go of."

He was right - you knew that he would drop everything you had in a second if he could get back his lost love. But, he didn't have the chance. You did. Now, there was the time and the space for you to work things out with Steve and maybe, just maybe, get back to where you used to be. Then in a few years - five or ten - all this would merely be a blip. A little detour in your relationship.

The difference between your first love and Zemo's first love was that his was dead. She was gone; forever encased in his mind as a perfect vision, protected by the fragility of mortality. Steve, however, was very much alive and breathing (and he wouldn't let you fucking forget it). You did have that memory of him - the version of him that you'd loved so deeply - but now you were faced with a darker, uglier version. A man who had hurt you in every way possible and broken your trust and your heart. Maybe you could get your Steve back and maybe you could take the remaining sparks of your love and nurture them into something bigger and better, but they were just that. Maybes. There was no guarantee that things would ever be the same again, especially not when you'd be forced to live the knowledge of how badly he'd damaged you.

That was when you knew in your heart that you couldn't choose him. You didn't love Steve - you loved the memory of him and the familiarity it brought. You loved the versions of one another that you'd been before the world had got to you. Neither of you could pretend.

"It's too late for me and Steve," you murmured.

"And it's too late for me and you," Zemo countered. "But it's not too late for just you. You have a shot at freedom and you should take it."

"I will," you tearfully smiled. "Thank you - for everything."

"No, thank you," he shook his head, "I lost everything and you helped me find it again."

"I love you," you quietly said.

That was the first time you'd said it. Before then, things had always been too complex. The L-word could only make the whole situation even more entangled, because neither of you could even work out what said situation was in the first place - especially given your history. Now that it was over, it was just...simple. Stripped back to the bare foundations of what this truly was: you loved him and he loved you. That was all that mattered.

"I love you too," Zemo replied, "you should go and talk to Rogers. Let him know that you've made a decision."

"I will."

"And for the love of god - please learn to cook."

He pressed one final kiss to your lips, before letting go and slowly backing away towards the door.

That was it. This was over. It was all over.

The last five years; the heartbreak, the tears, the love, the fights. Every single thing you'd ever felt had all mounted to this moment - from loving and losing Steve, to falling in love with the man who had once been your enemy, to finding solace in people and not causes.

There was the sound of handcuffs locking - a moment later, Steve stuck his head around the door. He looked nervous.

"Did you get to talk about what you needed?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," you nodded. "I'll take the deal."

"But?"

A sigh escaped your lips. "You can't cling onto the past, because no matter how hard you try to hold on, it's gone. Being together because it's familiar isn't love. It's fear."

What you had with Zemo was the very opposite of that: he'd stopped you being scared. He was an anchor when everything around you was fucking crazy. A life raft when you felt like you could barely tread water. He saw you out the other side of the hardest time of your life.

"You're right," Steve murmured. "But do you forgive me?"

You smiled slightly. "I forgave you a long time ago."

There was going to be a lot of paperwork - not to mention, a lot of dealing with the press. An Avenger gone bad then good again? That was gonna be in the headlines for a while. It didn't matter too much to you, because re-adjusting to normal life and moving on from yet another tumultuous love affair was your number one priority. You wanted to settle down - maybe in New York, maybe in London, or Rome - and hold Zemo to his promise of learning to cook.

Then there was something else.

"There's just one thing," you added. "If you really wanted to clean your slate."

Steve frowned. "What's that?"

"Help me find the others," you replied. "Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Nat, Clint, Scott. All of them."

"Yeah, okay," he smiled. "Let's do it."

***

It may have sounded completely crazy, but you felt safer than you ever had wrapped in Zemo’s arms.

You knew it was wrong to feel this way about someone who’d done so many awful things, some of them to your own flesh and blood, but you hadn’t been able to help yourself from falling for him. Ever since you’d come to visit that first time he had been nothing but a gentleman to you.

Of course you couldn’t let anyone know what was going on between you and Zemo, especially Bucky. He was the only family you had left, and visa-versa. Though he was technically your great-uncle, the brother of your grandmother, due to his physical youth you’d come to see him as the big brother you’d never had. He’d never said anything of the sort, but you knew that he saw a lot of his beloved little sister in you. And like any good big brother, he wouldn’t want his sister dating a criminal.

Regardless, it had happened. You had fallen for Zemo, hard. So the two of you had to make the most of the rare moments you had alone, when Sam and Bucky weren’t around to see you together. Zemo was an early riser and so were you, so you would often find yourself snuggled up together on the couch while Sam and Bucky still slept soundly in their beds. 

“Are you comfortable, liebling?” Zemo asked in a whisper, looking down at you with a fond smile on his lips. Your head rested on his shoulder, and he had an arm around your waist to keep you close to him. 

“Very,” you replied, just as quietly, as you closed your eyes and appreciated the warmth that always seemed to radiate from him, along with the wonderful scent of his surely expensive cologne. You sighed. “It’s a shame we’ll have to go back to pretending once Sam and Bucky wake up…”

Zemo sighed as well, dipping down briefly to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Yes. But every moment we spend together is more than worth it, meine Schatzi.”

That was true, but it still hurt. You’d never loved anyone as much as you loved Zemo, not by a long shot. All you wanted was to be able to just say screw it, tell Sam and Bucky what was going on, damn the consequences, but that just wasn't something you could do. You could imagine the expression that would be on Bucky’s face if he found out, the anger and the disappointment. But keeping things secret also meant there wasn’t any real way for the relationship to progress much further, and you knew that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with this man.

What was there to do?

Before you could stop them, there were tears running down your face. Zemo looked at you with soft eyes, pulling you onto his lap so he could hold you to his chest. “Shh, Schatzi, everything will be okay…”

You sobbed against him for who knows how long, your tears leaving marks on his sweater, though Zemo didn’t seem to care. He stroked your hair softly, every so often whispering little reassurances in your ear.

Even Zemo had been so distracted that he hadn’t heard the footsteps of someone descending the stairs and entering the living room. Like you, he only realised that the two of you were no longer alone when a familiar voice shouted.

In your already vulnerable state, your tears only began to flow faster when you noticed who exactly it was who had caught you.

“What the hell did you do to her?!” Bucky snapped, pointing at Zemo threateningly with a vibranium finger.

“James, please, I have done nothing to harm her,” Zemo said, his tone as cool and calm as ever. He didn’t want this to turn into a screaming match, knowing how much that would pain you.

Bucky scoffed, looking at you, being held in the lap of a known criminal mastermind while you sobbed your heart out. “You’re going back to prison.”

Only a few moments later, a new presence made itself known in the living room. “Hey, some of us were still trying to sleep, could you maybe keep it down?” Sam said, walking through the door, still clad in pyjamas. His tired demeanour seemed to completely change when he noticed the position you and Zemo were in, his eyes widening. “Okay, what the hell?”

Your sobs became louder, unable to be muffled by the fabric of Zemo’s sweater. He continued to caress your hair in an effort to calm you, but it didn’t seem to be working this time. “Can you not see that your shouting is only upsetting her? Perhaps it would be wise for you to stop.”

Bucky’s jaw was clenched, and he glared at Zemo like he could kill him with a single look. He took a few steps towards the couch. “Just when I was starting to trust you, you go and pull this shit. You’re going back to The Raft.”

You finally spoke up, for the first time since Bucky had stepped into the room. Your voice was shaky and weak, owing to all the crying. “Bucky, n-no…”

“What?”

“H-he didn’t hurt me, please don’t send him away…” you choked out, and you felt Zemo’s hands cup your face, gently lifting your head up from where it was pressing into his chest. He wiped away some of the tears that had fallen, not willing to neglect you even in these circumstances. “I love him…”

“Holy shit,” Sam whispered.

Bucky’s eyebrows were furrowed as he shook his head, unable – or unwilling – to comprehend what you were talking about. “No. No way.”

“I-it’s true, Bucky… I really do love him…” You stood up from where you’d been sitting on Zemo’s lap, turning to face Bucky. Your lip quivered as you looked at him, with a tear-stained face and red eyes. “Please… we didn’t mean for this to happen, but—”

“This,” Bucky gestured between you and Zemo, ignoring your pleas, “isn’t going to continue. If Y/N can’t make the right choices, I’ll just have to make them for her. Zemo’s going back to jail. That’s final.”

Zemo stood up from his spot on the couch, moving to stand between you and Bucky. “Y/N is a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but this is no longer the 1940’s, James. She doesn’t require your permission to live her life the way she chooses.”

Bucky stepped closer to Zemo again, looking just about ready to rip his throat out. “You know what, Zemo—”

“I hate to say it, Buck, but Zemo’s right.” Sam’s words stopped Bucky before he was able to make a move against Zemo. He turned around, staring at his partner harshly. “Y/N is an adult, and she has the right to make her own choices, even if we don’t understand them.”

“Thank y—” Zemo started to say, but he also found himself cut off by Sam.

“Don’t start, Zemo. I’m not a fan of whatever it is that you two have going on, but it’s not our place to tell Y/N who she can and can’t date.” Sam turned his attention to Bucky. “And you can’t just send Zemo to prison for kissing your niece, especially when he’s been a big asset on our missions.”

Bucky was silent, though his suspicious eyes still lingered on Zemo. You took this moment to approach him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Bucky, please…” You pleaded, Bucky still hadn’t responded to or reciprocated your hug. You took it as a good sign that he hadn’t pushed you away, however. “I know you don’t like Helmut, but he treats me really well and he makes me so happy… please, I couldn’t bear it if you hate me…”

“Of course I don’t hate you, Y/N,” Bucky told you, and you felt his arms gently wrap around you. You sighed in relief, tears welling up in your eyes once more. “You’re all I’ve got left. I just want to keep you from getting hurt.”

“I really appreciate that, but I know I’ve made the right decision.” You lifted your head to look him in the eyes, giving him a reassuring smile. “Thanks, Uncle Bucky.”

“No problem, kid,” he replied, patting you on the head rather awkwardly. He then looked over to Zemo. “I’m not gonna send you back to prison. Yet.” You knew that Bucky was probably never going to be happy with you dating Zemo, but it meant a lot to you that he was going to respect your decision to be with him.

“Much appreciated, James.”

You walked back towards Zemo, and as soon as he could reach you, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss. Your face burned in embarrassment at doing this when Sam and Bucky could see, buy you certainly didn’t push him away.

“Hey! Don’t push it!” Bucky said loudly.

“Apologies,” Zemo replied once you’d pulled away, but if the smirk on his face was any indication, he wasn’t sorry in the slightest. He looked to you, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Now that everything is sorted, I think I will go and prepare breakfast.”

“Sounds good.”

Before Zemo could get to close to the kitchen, Bucky grabbed him by the arm and whispered to him harshly. “You break her heart; I’ll kill you and make it look like an accident.”

You hadn’t expected to like him when you first met. You were working at the prison, bringing those in solitary confinement their meals.

He grew on you though, he was smart, funny, and could talk about almost every topic under the sun. You felt for him, you really did, losing his family in the Battle of Sokovia the way he did.

Sure, he may have killed the King of Wakanda and practically became the reason the Avengers nearly disbanded, but he wasn’t a horrible human being, he wasn’t evil. All Zemo had wanted was for someone to be blamed for what happened to his family.

As the years went on you fell for him and he reciprocated the feeling. You told him you’d wait for him, even after getting a new job away from the prison.

What you never expected though was for him to show up at the front door of your apartment, with Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson no less, to whisk you away to help him and the other two find out who was making super soldiers and to stop the Flag Smashers.

You were thrilled obviously, he was here, right in front of you, no glass, no cameras watching, but there was a constant nagging in your mind, a nauseous feeling in your stomach that there was no way that this would last.

When the Dora Milaje showed up in Latvia to take him back to prison, that feeling was proven to not just be a “what if”, but more of a constant dread in the pit of your stomach. Neither of you really discussed it, just tried to spend as much time together as possible.

That was of course proven difficult with the Flag Smashers and John Walker getting in the way of everything.

Sam and Bucky of course were no help, they didn’t trust Zemo one bit, which you could understand, but it seemed no one was on your side. The two men even questioned you on how you could be with him.

You tried to explain that even though he had made past mistakes you didn’t think that defined him as a person, and you felt as though you both found each other at the right time. Of course, they both thought that was bullshit.

Everything seemed to be going alright until the Dora Milaje declared Zemo had run out of time and came to collect him. During a whirlwind fight between John, Sam, and Bucky though, the Baron disappeared, apparently escaping through the sewage hole in the bathroom of his home you were staying in in Latvia.

John Walker then brutally killed one of the Flag Smashers in front of maybe fifty people, so after he, Bucky, and Sam all left Latvia, you decided there was only one place Zemo would be.

That was more than 15 hours ago, you’d been driving all night, and your GPS was having a hard time trying to locate a city that no longer existed which only fed your frustration. Although you were beyond pissed he’d left you alone, you had to get him back.

Currently according to the GPS, the memorial was only five minutes out and apparently if you headed straight through the woods to your right you would find it. So, pulling over you jumped out of the car, sprinting into the trees.

You were breathing hard, running faster and faster, fueled only by adrenaline as you were exhausted from driving all night.

You were silently begging that he’d there, that it wouldn’t be too late.

Breaking through the trees you startled the two men standing at the memorial. Bucky was there, pointing a gun at Zemo’s head, and Zemo stood there, calm as can be.

“Don’t!” you shouted running over and putting yourself between the gun and the man you loved.

“Y/N, move,” Bucky told you, face stoic, hand steady as he aimed the gun.

“No,” you said, standing your ground, fists clenched as you tried your best to keep the tears at bay.

You felt hands on your waist as you were gently moved to the side, “It’s alright, angel,” Zemo’s voice came from behind you, “Move aside.”

Turning around, you mentally cursed yourself as a few tears slipped down your cheeks, “I am not going to stand here and let him shoot you,” you said sternly.

Zemo remained calm, giving you a small, sad smile. He took your face in his hands, placing a kiss to your forehead, “Please, let me go sweetheart,” he told you, placing his forehead against yours.

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder. Your grip was tight, you were holding on like you were the only thing keeping him grounded to the Earth.

The familiar scent of his cologne was comforting but only made your heart break further. You were fully crying now, your breath catching in your throat as Zemo’s arms circled around you.

“You’ll find someone else, someone better for you, I promise,” Zemo spoke to you softly. He placed a few kisses on your head, breathing you in for a moment before taking your arms from around him. He was no super soldier but from years of training in the army and special forces, he was strong.

With a push from Zemo you were sent stumbling backwards, Bucky grabbed your arm, swiftly pulling you behind him.

“No, NO!” you screamed as Bucky raised the gun again.

“Go ahead,” Zemo told Bucky, giving you one last look before Bucky pulled the trigger.

It took both you and Zemo a moment to realize nothing had happened. Bucky held out his opposite hand, opening it to show the bullets and casings in his hand as he dropped them to ground.

Zemo nodded, accepting that he was not going to die, he was in for something much worse.

“He’s all yours!” Bucky called, looking over Zemo’s shoulder, it was then you noticed three of the Dora Milaje standing there, ready to take Zemo.

You moved from behind Bucky, “No, no please, please,” you begged, moving to grab Zemo again, hugging him tightly.

You felt as though you couldn’t breathe, your face was wet from all the tears, you probably looked like a mess.

“Y/N, let him go,” Bucky told you, trying to coax you away from the man.

“NO!” you shouted, pressing your face into Zemo’s chest this time as he hugged you again.

Zemo ran a hand through your hair, shushing you quietly, trying to comfort you in what was going to be your last few moments together for god knows how long.

“Please moya lyubov', I have to go now, we both knew this would not be forever,” Zemo told you, pulling you off him.

You couldn’t believe he was just accepting this; he was going to be put away for the rest of his life no doubt, somewhere more secure where you would never see him again.

You on the other hand were sobbing as you turned towards the Dora Milaje, “Please! I-I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything! Please! Just don’t take him again, please!” you begged.

The one you recognized as Ayo shook her head, “He must pay for his crimes, he knows what he’s done, let him go little girl.”

Zemo grabbed you, giving you a quick, soft kiss and you grabbed the front of his coat, gripping onto him tightly. Pulling away from the kiss Zemo took your hands in his, bringing each up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles.

“Stay safe angel, alright? Promise me,” Zemo told you, making sure you looked him in the eye.

You could only nod, gripping onto his coat again. “Use your words, promise me,” Zemo spoke.

“I-I promise,” you whimpered, your vision blurring from the tears as you shivered from a cold gust of wind.

Zemo shrugged off his coat, wrapping it around you, you smiled through the tears a bit. Even facing life in prison, he was still a gentleman.

You felt arms wrap around your waist, pulling you away from Zemo. Practically clawing at him you tried to keep him near you, but Bucky was too strong as he held you back.

“James,” Zemo said, turning his attention to the super soldier. “Take care of her, will you?”

You assumed Bucky nodded or gave acknowledgment, because Zemo gave you one last sad smile, “Do not worry moya lyubov', we will see each other again.”

With that, he turned and followed the three warriors towards the jet waiting for them.

Ayo came over, telling Bucky something but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of your own begging.

“No, no, no please! Please! I’ll do anything, don’t take him, please!” you were screaming after the three warriors and the man you loved. “Helmut please!”

None of them looked back as you continued to fight against Bucky, trying to escape his grasp to run after them, to do anything to keep them from taking Zemo away.

It was no use, and Bucky only let you go when the four were flying away in the Wakandan made jet.

You collapsed, the stones beneath you no doubt bruising your knees as you fell. Bucky didn’t try to comfort you as you sobbed, burying your face in your hands.

Zemo’s last words to you gave you no comfort as you cried until your throat was raw and you felt as though you were out of tears.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up, Bucky was kneeling in front of you, trying to comfort you now, “Come on kid, you can’t stay here,” he told you.

Silently nodding you took Bucky’s hand as he helped you up, “I’ll drive,” he told you, “I’m assuming you drove?” he asked.

Only nodding again, you gave Bucky the keys from your jeans pocket as you both made your way back into the trees towards the car. You shoved your arms through the too big coat Zemo had given you, breathing in the scent of his cologne.

Your heart felt as though it had shattered, you had just started to feel as though your life with Zemo had just started, and now it had all come crashing down.

You could only hope his words would ring true and you’d see him again.

***

It was weeks later when the shrill ringing of a phone that didn’t sound like yours broke the silence of your apartment.

You were laying on the couch, wallowing in self pity as you had been doing for the past few weeks.

The only solace you’d gotten was when Zemo’s butler, Oeznik, had called you to tell you that you were welcome to stay in one of the Baron’s many houses worldwide, any expenses would be paid for by the Baron of course.

Oeznik also reassured you Zemo was doing fine, as fine as fine could be in a maximum-security prison.

Bucky called you as well, keeping his promise to Zemo, you ignored most of his calls though, he was the reason they took him away.

Getting off the couch, you searched for the source of the ringing, finally discovering it was Zemo’s coat you had thrown across the back of one of the kitchen table chairs, where it had sat since you’d put it there.

Rummaging through the pockets you found a phone, it looked older, one of those cheap track phones.

Hesitantly, you flipped it open, the ringing stopped before you spoke, “Hello? Who is this?”

"Printessa, it’s me.”

A/N: Well, this is my first time writing for Zemo and of course it had to be angst lol. I hope you enjoyed it and let me know if you’d want more Zemo! Thank you for reading! 

Russian Translations:

moya lyubov' - my love