#zemo reader insert

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."