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#;;—Also the fact that someone telling Helmut that they hate him
undercoverpena · 2 years
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interesting
I decided, thanks to some kind souls in my DMs to indulge. I know he’s not why many of you are here, but if you’re a fan of wcrp, you’ll know how much I loved writing zemo.
helmut zemo x f!reader summary: zemo wants you alone. you want him. an: alludes to smut, this man owns me rn, or has done for a while. WC: 1.1k part two
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Helmut Zemo has done bad things.
He knows this. Accepts it.
He would argue he isn’t a bad person. Even if his actions, his choices dictate him as one.
Which is why he shouldn’t have kissed you.
But now he has, he can’t stop thinking about it.
The two of you could have sold the lie to Selby with words alone. He’s heard you talk, heard how you can wrap those around your finger in many languages. He also knows the kiss had been an easy out—one which stirred something that didn’t need stirring.
And now the two of you are alone.
Again.
Which is why he pours himself a drink, something strong, something with an amber shade. He considers downing it before refilling, but decides instead to pour you one.
Because he’s hospitable.
He stares at the back of your head, hating how hard you’re pretending to be indifferent. Despising that you’re pretending you’re not unravelling too—because he knows you are.
For a long time, knowing, and understanding people, was his business.
Which is why he’s moving across the room until he’s beside you, offering out the crystal-cut glass to you.
“Drink?”
If your surprised, you don’t show it. Likely instead chanting that ‘You should hate him.’ And maybe, you should. Even as the dark orange liquid sloshes when your hand takes it.
“Thought it would make being around me more… interesting?”
He hears you scoff as he sits on the opposite corner, hearing it followed by the noticeable sound of ice meeting the glass when you take a sip. Because the room is silent, holding its own breath as though waiting for the two of you to snap.
Not that he’ll be the one to do so first.
And, from what he can tell of you, you’re going to hold out as long as you can before you do. He can tell, from the way you avoid his eyes, even as he sits in your peripheral at the other corner of the sofa, enough of a distance, but not enough to likely stop your cheeks from burning, ears and chest wanting to follow suit.
“I don’t need interesting.”
He studies you.
Because he knows you do.
He’s not sure he’s met another soul who needs interesting, who is more bored than him.
But, he’s bored because he made a choice—took revenge. A choice he never regrets, but wonders if he could have done it differently, smarter. Had his cake and eaten it too.
He knows why he’s bored, but he can’t quite place why you are. His dark eyes scanning over you, wondering if the answer is just beneath a layer or two.
Like the fact that you keep pretending that, in another world, in another life, you likely wouldn’t have this faux-hate when it comes to him. One he can sense.
The same as he did on the plane, when the others slept.
When you looked at him, without trying to look at him.
When you smirked when he spoke Sokovian, when he made a comment about your book and your eyes shimmered as if finally meeting someone who challenged you.
It would be a lie to say he didn’t think the same. It had been a long time since he’d met someone with plump lips and curves who could make his brain work harder, and not just smarter.
“You don’t feel it’s necessary to… what did James say, babysit me?”
It would be easy to ignore him. Easier.
But, from the way your shoulders tense, he can tell you’re not one for preservation, not one to back down from a fight.
It’s the very reason he suspects that you’re here, wrapped up in international issues and gallivanting without worries of breaking the laws in cities he suspects you’d love to explore.
“I don’t.”
“Because you don’t believe I can do harm?”
You smile, but he’s not sure they’re at his words—or his digging. “You blew up a building, meaning you are, by definition, harmful.”
He tilts his head, not vanishing the smile which begins to grace his lips. Because he sees it. Before you speak it.
“But, no. I don’t believe you’ll do harm here. To us…”
“To you?” He adds.
Motioning the glass to swirl, before taking a sip, a delicate—almost hidden—smirk behind it. One that is taking more effort than he likes to keep hidden.
Especially when he realises that your pressing your thighs together, that your eyes keep darting from his to his lips. The same as his do, when you’re not paying as much attention.
A devious, and clever game of cat and mouse.
He has to wonder if it’s his features or his chivalry which has caught you by surprise. Remembering your surprise when he asked if he could wrap his arm around you during the showdown in the seedy bar.
As though you hadn’t considered he’d be kind.
“Would you? Harm me, I mean?” You ask, smirking as you take another sip.
He watches you, noticing how you don’t shudder this time, noticing how you’re growing used to the taste. Something which both makes him smirk and spread his thighs.
Leaning back, he swallows, sweeping his eyes over you. Letting the silence sit, just for a moment.
“Not intentionally.”
You nod, short, brief. Before you drain your glass, placing it down on the table, meeting his eyes with the same determination he’s usually sporting whenever he finds himself around you.
“I think you’ve been locked up for so long, you wouldn’t know how to harm a woman. Not in the way you’re insinuating,” you add.
He hears the way you are slowing down your words by just a touch, elongating some, but not all.
“I would never question whether you could kill one, maim one. I’ve seen the evidence of that. But I’m not sure you remember how to please one.”
He swallows before he’s aware, he can feel heat spreading across his stomach. A growing need running through his veins.
“You should be careful.”
“Doesn’t seem interesting,” you retort.
And the corner of his lips twitch, an almost smile. “No. I suppose it doesn’t.”
Your eyes narrow, in either confusion or surprise, he isn’t sure.
“But, Liebling. If you want to know whether I would be able to fuck you, like you so need, all you have to do is ask.”
Your smirk falls, lips parting. He watches as you shift in your seat, thighs pressing together more than before.
He drains his own glass, placing it down on the table, the sound vibrating across the room.
“I think now is when you should use your words, Liebling.”
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cecoeur · 20 days
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The way you defend Ric for not giving a shit about the CH victim, but blast Max for staying neutral and not kicking his dad to the kerb? Girl, get a grip, they're all rich, no fucks given assholes, at least be consistent...
Omg you are legit my first anon hater, how fab! I hope you see this and enjoy some kind of warm fuzzy feeling because no lie this is hilarious to me. Strap in, baby because I have never been very succinct and I want to give my first anon hate due respect. ❤️
I Don’t think I’ve defended Daniel or his response to this situation - in fact I think the main thing I said about his comments were these tags:
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Where I said basically exactly what you said in your message. They’re rich entitled men who aren’t impacted directly and don’t really care. Also, I’ve said in other tags that he’s a dumb fuck who needs to do better! Legit this might be the only other thing I’ve said about Daniel’s comments:
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So.. I don’t think I’ve defended him? And if that’s not clear, let me be clear. He’s an ignorant rich man who says stupid shit that I don’t agree with. Lewis is the only driver who has had even a remotely okay answer to any question asked about it. (Which is a whole other wild thing. Like they knew these questions would come and they still fumbled them so badly.) Ultimately my feeling on this is that they’re all probably fine people but they are narcissists who really only care about what’s happening in their immediate lives and this is only impactful in that people keep asking them questions about it.
Now to Max. I also don’t think I said Max should kick his dad to the curb but I appreciate that this is what you may have perceived. What I said is that he is complicit in his dad’s actions/comments when he openly refers to them as a team and they act as business partners. And that the folks who are infantilizing him and telling reporters to stop asking him about his dad because he can’t control what his dad said, are ultimately wrong. He can…he point blankly refuses to and doubles down on how tied his dad is to his racing career. Ergo, it’s fair for him to be asked about it. 🤷🏻‍♀️
And finally, he 100% is not staying neutral in that. He literally said his dad doesn’t lie and he supports him. He also has some kind of weird symbiotic relationship with the reanimated corpse that his Helmut Marko soooooo def not neutral.
Still a fan of both Max and Daniel but that’s just kind of how shit goes? I want F1 and everyone involved to be more inclusive and progressive (I want that on a worldwide scale, obvs) but I’m also aware that this is a hyper fixation that I enjoy mostly on the internet/ the tumblr community and so im not going to expect too much out of it.
Nor am I going to anonymously tell someone to get a grip about it but that’s apparently just me. 😘
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hansensgirl · 3 years
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put me in a movie.
summary. | He knows you can’t make it on your own, so he’ll put you in his movie.
warnings. | Dubcon (reader doesn’t know what he’s doing but consents to it), smut, drinking, age gap (reader is legal), virginity loss, choking, spanking, dirty talk, degradation, corruption kink, innocence kink, cream pie kink, penetration, teasing, praise, filming, voyeurism, porn (the industry), fluff, yearning, Daddy kink, humiliation, overstimulation, dumbification kink, and more. SMUT, 18+ MINORS DNI.
word count. | 6.5k.
pairing. | Grey!Pornstar!Helmut Zemo x Innocent!Reader.
a/n. | please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. inspired by wet, written by the talented @thewritingdoll! do not translate or repost my fics at all.
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You don’t like the heat, but you love the summer. The way the days are seldom cold and cloudy, with that occasional breeze that your skin gracefully soaks up in the same way your beach towel soaks up the water on your bathing suit. Popsicles of different flavours dripping down your skin and onto the hot sidewalk. The sticky residue makes you cringe, and you’d use the damp side of your towel to wipe it away. It would work for a few seconds, maybe even a minute or two, before the feeling returns.
You hate the heat, but you love to see him. Those swim trunks of his sticking to his wet skin. They’re a blue colour that seems easy to describe at first glance, but you’ll soon realize just how many shades of navy blue there are, and suddenly you don't even know what colour they are. Maybe it’s the colour of the jeans the cameramen wear, or perhaps it’s the colour of the night sky at around six in the evening during the summertime.
They lug heavy equipment, and you just wonder if they’re filming a movie. If your friends and family members got word, they’d probably lose their minds before begging you to get them a part. Vying for fame runs through the family tree branches, and even you would want a small part in it as well. You give them empty promises, forgetting their words after a few minutes until the following text message or phone call.
You don’t spend much time at the beach anymore. Heck, you haven’t been there since June. Your friends have left with their boyfriends and girlfriends on a trip to Bali, and all you have are your family members to keep you company. Your white fence, magazine and lawn chair are all you know of now. You spend your days outdoors, knowing each one will be filled with the same things. The sunlight, bees buzzing, and seagulls having unwarranted ferociousness.
Your parents spend their days at work, and you stay home to hold your small fort down. You don’t water the grass or touch the garden because your father does it better than anyone. You don’t touch the paint meant for the walls or the furniture boxes that are strewn across the floors because your mother knows where to put them and how to paint. You just relax, and you don’t mind it at all.
That was until you saw him.
Curiosity is your closest friend other than the blue raspberry flavoured popsicles that take up more space in your freezer than anything else. So when the empty house next door suddenly filled up with around half a dozen people, you just couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing. So you peer over the fence, standing on the small two-step ladder that your dad stole from his previous job. Women and a few men are laughing, dressed down in both swimsuits and t-shirts. Their bodies are lovely, the pinnacle of beauty that you sometimes envy. Other times, you’d feel as though you’re the prettiest girl in the world, and that’s not far from the truth. They’ve got different brands of alcohol in their hands, White Claw cans littered on the ground, and you cringe at the mess.
They must be mentally younger than you’ll ever be again because no person older than you can act like this. Heavy, black cameras are resting nearby briefcases, and you hope to god that nothing illegal is going on. The last thing you need is the police questioning you at 1 in the morning. Some of the men ogle at the younger ladies, and they bask in the attention. You watch as their eyes rake up and down their shiny, sweaty bodies.
“Oh, please, the least you all can do is wait for me before you start the party,” a man snickers, stepping out of the house. You look over to him, and your breath is taken away. Water drips down his face, cascading down to his neck and onto his slightly hairy chest—a navy bluish-purple robe and those blue swim shorts that peek through underneath the cloth. The colour of the fabric goes oh so well with the blue of his eyes. They all laugh until they’re sighing and already cracking open another bottle of beer.
You admire him from afar, and you can’t help but be mesmerized by the way he moves: such grace, such elusiveness. The glass in his hand isn’t cheap beer or tequila; it’s whiskey that looks rich as fuck, and he swigs it back like it’s water. You remember the first time your father and mother brought whiskey home from the local liquor store. Your father didn’t enjoy it, and neither did your mother. It sat in a random cupboard until a year ago when your mother decided to throw it out.
He lets out an exhale as the amber liquid flows down his throat, and you watch in awe as he handles the burn like a champion. God, you can’t even handle beer if you try hard enough. He gently places the glass onto the table, far away from the men’s feet, as he knows that they can be quite clumsy. There must be a proper name for all feelings; you believe. Like that feeling when it dawns on you that you’ll never experience something like this ever again.
Or maybe the feeling that Helmut has right now. Not the excitement of finishing this film, and not the tiredness that is a result of working too hard. No, the feeling that he knows you’re watching him from over the fence. He sans his hand towards you, and you quickly duck down, letting out a whimper. You nearly fall from the small ladder, but it wouldn’t be so graceful if it did happen. “What’s wrong, Baron?” one of his co-stars teasingly asks.
“Nothing... Must’ve been the whiskey…”
You don’t hate the summer; you just don’t like the boredom. Even relaxation is something you can tire of, believe it or not. You’ve got nothing to do. Your friends are still out of town, and your parents are at work. You’ve cleaned the house not once, not twice, but three times. Your closet is as clean as it’ll ever be, and the pantry is now organized by most used to least used. The plants have been properly watered, even though it wasn’t necessary since the forecast said there’d be light rain.
You love the rain, especially during the summertime. The sky makes the surrounding world have an almost orange tone to it. The after smell––an earthy, oceanic scent that is so unique––is something you’ll forever look forward to. You’re excited for the day it’ll rain, but even meteorologists tend to be wrong, and Mother Nature has a thing for keeping her children on their toes. It’s one of the many reasons why you love her. So with your little red dress on, you spin around in the backyard.
You’re sensible. You know what creepy crawlers lie underneath the dirt, between the fluffy grass. So instead of being barefoot (just like in those Sofia Loren movies) and playing around, you grab that little latter once again. You’ve scrubbed the grooves and cleaned them of their plant stains––sloppily, of course. Your oversized slippers belong to your dad, and they struggle to stay on your feet, but it doesn’t matter.
You’re not going to be moving around much, anyway. You move the latter closer to where you last saw the group of men and women. You truly hope you don’t get caught and get into any trouble; the last thing you want is your parents scolding you and embarrassing you. You step up on the ladder carefully, grasping onto the wooden fence for support. The surface is hot to the touch, and you really want to let go, but you really shouldn’t. You whisper affirmations along the lines of ‘I won’t fall…’ over and over again, under your breath.
And you hope to God they work.
Admittedly, you also hope he’s wearing those blue swim shorts of his again. The look (and he) resides in your heart, amongst other tubes and canals that have learned to make room for friends, family and passions. But he’s not a friend, he’s not family, and he’s most certainly not a passion. ...He’s something else, that’s for sure. An enigma, really. He reminds you of that feeling––the one that has a name, temptation. Someone tells you not to do something you weren’t going to do in the first place, and now you want to do it.
Except the case is different. You shouldn’t be perving on strangers like this––sneaking up on them, spying on them––all because you just can’t help it. Your mind tells you to stop, but it’s just giving you all the more reason to continue doing it. So, until you nearly get caught one more time, you’ll continue to watch him. Desperate to figure out who he is and what he’s doing.
The cameras are no longer on the ground; a smart decision, given that there’s a pool that takes up more space than anything. The blue water of pools has always fooled you. You grew up believing that it was the true colour of water, not even knowing that it was, in fact, the tiles and not the water. There’s no mess there either, clean and tidy. Maybe professionally done, because the concrete has but not one dark spot or crease where grass grows out of it.
Laid perfectly, you know your mother and father would admire it for a few minutes. You squint your eyes and gaze at the glass sliding door. Inside is him. You let out one of those dreamy, love-filled sighs that only main characters do in romance movies. You watch him as he pours himself a cup of coffee, two spoonfuls of sugar, and a dash of what seems to be almond milk.
You wonder if he likes iced coffees, as they can be so nice during the summertime. He wears those lovely blue swim shorts once again, hair slightly damp (with a pretty curliness to a few strands) and a navy bathrobe. It’s that same outfit as the other time you saw him, and you realize that they’re probably filming a movie. He moves around the counter, putting away certain little ingredients and whatnot.
The most mundane actions ever, ones that even you did just this morning. But god, he just makes it all seem so unique. He cards his fingers through his brown, almost dirty blond hair. There are clumps of strands that stick together, wetness that’ll dry probably as soon as he steps outside. He faces the window, staring out towards the fence that has been freshly painted, and sighs.
His head lulls back, and his neck is exposed. He’s probably both an actor and a model, you think to yourself. His chest hair has grown a bit more, and you can’t find yourself complaining. Tingles run through your body and even down to your pussy. You rub your thighs together, trying to make the feeling go away, while still being careful about holding onto the fence. You hope that he doesn’t know you’re watching him because you’ll never be able to live that down.
And it’s just so unfortunate that Helmut is such a clever man. Heightened senses from when he used to camp a lot when he was younger; he just knows practically everything. He knows you’re watching him, squinting your eyes until they’re nearly shut close. The skin around them wrinkles in the most adorable way, just like the way your nose scrunches up out of instinct. God, he could kiss every crevice of your body, even if you don’t know who he is.
“Hey, Helmut, we have a few re-shoots to do. Do you want to start now?” one of the cameramen asks him, holding a microphone in his hand. “No… I’m tired; we’ll do it all tomorrow,” Helmut says, waving his hand. He’s no longer looking outside and instead at the man who he’s addressing. He nods and walks off before Helmut follows him. Common courtesy is to always escort your guests out, and Helmut was raised with manners. With a hand on the man’s lower back, and a smile on his face, Helmut gently pushes him out the door and locks it.
You watch him as he disappears, seemingly leading someone out of his home, and you think all is fine. That is until that little voice in your mind decides to be obnoxious. The slight possibility that you’ve been caught and he’s mad haunts you, and your breath hitches. Your eyeballs are wide open, as big as the eyes of an owl, and your hands shake a bit out of fear. They dampen up a bit, not enough to the point where you’d be disgusted, but they’re clammy nonetheless.
You make a move to jump off the latter, not caring about the possible risk of falling and scraping your pretty legs. Your hands begin to let go of the fence, but they’re stopped by someone grabbing you by your wrists. You let out a squeal of shock as they hold you tightly from over the barrier, and you’re screwed. “I’m sorry!” you quickly yell, squinting your eyes out of fear. You’re not sure what to expect, whether he would yell at you or threaten to call the cops.
“No, it’s okay. Calm down, I’m not mad. Come back,” Helmut tells you, and you calm down. Yet you’re still nervous, scared that he’s a liar and that you’ll be in deep shit with the law. You step back onto the latter and are wary of looking over the wood. His eyes meet yours, and you swallow thickly. “I’m not mad, okay? I think it’s kind of cute. You’re like a curious little bunny,” he smiles, and you giggle.
“Never been called that before, usually just a curious cat,” you share with him, and he laughs. “Well, that’s not wrong,” he adds. A brief silence intrudes, and you just stare at one another. Helmut’s eyes jump from feature to feature on your face, relishing in that unique gorgeousness of yours. Someone like you will never be found amongst models because you’re an absolute angel. You’re like a pretty rose amongst other flowers; all are beautiful in their own ways, but you always manage to stand out.
You wonder if Helmut is the wolf to your bunny. That dark look in his eyes that compliments his features and overall attitude. He carries himself in such a way that old Hollywood actors wish they were so graceful. He’s the polar opposite of you––seemingly. But from the few words you’ve exchanged with each other, he just might be a bunny friend to yours. “I- I saw that there were cameras and I heard people talking… Are you filming a movie?” you ask him.
“...Yes, we are, bunny. I apologize for being so loud. Do you forgive me?” Helmut questions with a smile on his face. You nod your head and bite on your bottom lip, watching as his eyes brighten up a bit. “What’s it about? Can I know? Are you the main protagonist? Or the antagonist? What genre is it?” you interrogate, flooding him with questions. “Shh, one at a time, bunny. It’s very, very special and secretive. I can’t tell you much. But I’m the main protagonist, and it’s a bit of a naughty movie, so I don’t think a little girl like you should know much,” he whispers to you.
You nod your head as you listen to him, so intrigued about the work of art being filmed next door. “I’ve always wanted to be in a movie! Especially in one of those old Hollywood ones, they’re so good,” you admit to him shyly, with a coy smirk on your face. “Really? I think you’d be an amazing actress. You’d be even more popular than Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe,” Helmut praises, and you giggle once again.
“T- Thank you so much! ...Can I be in your movie?” you politely request him, but he shakes his head. You frown, your bottom lip jutted out. “You wouldn’t want to be in this movie, bunny. Remember what I said? It’s a naughty movie, and you’re just a little girl,” he reminds you, but you’re still pouting. “Is it a violent movie? One with curse words and lots of scary stuff?” you innocently ask, not sure as to what he means.
Helmut laughs quite loudly. “No,” he stifles a chuckle, “but one day I’ll shoot a movie with you, and I’ll show you how it’s all done.” He promises, and you can just tell he’s honest. You’re elated, hoping that the day he’s talking about will come soon. “What is your name, bunny?” Helmut asks, and you tell him. He nods before repeating it, giving you a smile. He brings both of your hands close to his face. You go on the tip of your toes to properly watch him once more. He presses his lips to the back of your hands, kisses them one by one.
“Go get some rest, bunny, and come by my place tomorrow,” he tells you before letting go of your wrists. He walks off before you do anything else. Sliding the glass door behind him, he disappears somewhere, and you’re left all by yourself. You’re still standing there, sighing dreamily as you replay the moments that will surely turn into a broken record. You hope that he’ll wear those blue swim shorts again, even though he’s already worn them twice.
There’s a skip in your step—nothing new and nothing unusual. Your shoes scratch against the concrete of the sidewalk that connects to Helmut’s front door. The sun only rose an hour and a half ago. The sky is a bright blue, filled with a few clouds that compliment the colour. The sun beats down onto your skin, and you haven’t forgotten to put on sunscreen once you finish twirling around in your little sundress.
You’ve got a miniature backpack that is slung over both of your shoulders. It’s orange, a bright one, in fact. It reminds you of the tangerines you love to peel, and those creamsicle treats that can be quite rare to find at this time of the year. You climb up the two steps that lead to his grey door, and you rap the wood a few times. There’s a doorbell too, one of those high-tech ones that record everything in its view.
Nothing but silence echoes back. No cars driving by, no birds chirping, no insects buzzing. Nothing. You wonder if he’s woken up yet, or if he’s even home. But as the door suddenly swings open––without a squeak, mind you––you’re met with the smiling face that belongs to Helmut. “Good morning, early-bird, is everything alright?” he questions, not one ounce of sleep tainting his look.
“Good morning! Everything is alright… D- Do you remember what you told me yesterday? About coming by?” you ask him, almost thinking to yourself that you’re just insane and that conversation never really happened. “Oh, right! Sorry, I've been a bit forgetful lately. But come in, have you eaten already?” Helmut asks as he moves to the side for you to enter.
Hesitatingly, you step inside his home. You kick off your shoes and look around. It seems sleek and modern at first, quite… different from the familiar feel of your house. Now, there are no wild polygons or geometric shapes that make you feel like you’ve been placed on a spaceship. No, it’s something that even your mind can’t come up with. The walls are a cream colour, engraved with different patterns that make it resemble marble. The chairs and couches have clear plastic legs on them, adding to that newfound era feel.
The floors are a light brown colour; wood in the shape of long, skinny parallelograms fitting against each other perfectly. The lights hang down a bit, high ceilings that you can’t even fathom reaching. You spin around and look up at them as they shine down brightly on you. They stem down from a pretty grey bronze appliqué that is attached to the ceiling. It’s practically art, just like the portraits of half-naked ladies that hang on his walls. There’s a specific piece that is above the fireplace.
It’s a mirror, and your reflection is in it. So is Helmut’s. You’re in front of him, looking at him through the mirror. He’s behind you, staring at your reflection. You both stay like that for a bit before you look away and admire the windows. He has such a lovely view; you can’t help but envy him for it. “Now, bunny, I have to be honest with you. We wrapped the movie up last night, and it was very late. I didn’t call you over because of that, and I’m really sorry about that. Do you forgive me?” Helmut questions.
You nod your head eagerly, just sensing that he’ll lead on with some sort of good news. Your parents have done that far too many times for you not to know better. “But, if you want, I’ll put you in a movie. It’ll be just between you and me because it won’t be too professional, okay?” Helmut grabs your hands and looks you in the eyes, waiting for your answer. “Oh, yes, please! That sounds amazing. Thank you so much!” you cheer, wrapping your arms around him.
You hug him tightly, and he eventually hugs you back. “Now, I want to finish it as soon as possible. So set your bag right on this couch, and go sit on that one,” Helmut instructs, pointing at the biggest couch in the living room. You nod and do exactly as he tells you. He walks away, possibly to set something up or to get ready, but either way, you still sit on his couch, filled with pure excitement. You cross one leg over the other, your pretty white dress covering the upper half of your thighs.
Lace that is on top of the cotton, both the same colour, and you realize how much you love this dress. Helmut saunters back into the living room, holding a giant tripod in one hand and a small camera in the other. You gasp at the sight, and he chuckles. Setting them up from the other side of the small coffee table, you watch him in awe. “This is going to be… a big girl movie, okay? Just like the one I was in. But I don't think it will be visible to the public eye, might just be between you and I,” Helmut tells you.
You nod in understanding. “Are you fine with that, little bunny?” he asks you just for reassurance. “Mhm, you can do anything you want; I don’t mind!” you reassure him, with a giant smile on your face. He swallows thickly as blood rushes downwards to his cock from your words. You still grin gleefully, such innocence on your features that he almost feels bad for having feelings for you.
He presses the little power button on the camera and waits for a green light to come on. With a smirk, Helmut walks around the table and stands in front of you. You look up at him, waiting for him to do something. He bends down and grabs both sides of your face––gently, of course––and he makes you stand up. He tilts his head and leans forward, slotting his lips against yours.
Now, you’ve kissed someone before. His name started with something along the lines of ‘J’ or ‘L,’ but that doesn’t matter. But that kiss was nothing like Helmut’s kiss. His kiss is soft and passionate, something you struggle to match. His lips stay locked with yours before moving to push his tongue into your mouth. You’re not sure what to do, so you just give up and let him kiss you until you both run out of breath. His tongue runs against the wet skin of your mouth, and you gasp at the feeling.
He eventually pulls away, and he looks at you with his eyes blown out. Helmut sighs and smiles at you. “You gotta trust me, okay?” he tells you once more, and you nod. “Ok…” you trail off, not knowing what to follow up with. “You gotta call me by a nickname, bunny… Hmm, how about Daddy?” he exclaims, his accent becoming more prominent. You love it and how unique it is. “Okay! I like that one a lot, my friend calls her boyfriend that sometimes,” you share with him, and he laughs.
He sits you down on the couch again, and his hand inches up your dress, making you giddy. He smiles at you, and you can see from the corner of your eye how the camera is filming you both. Helmut just knows you’re wet already, but you probably don’t know it. And he’s not wrong. You feel slightly tingly, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Your panties slide down your legs, a wet patch on them, and Helmut throws them to the side. He lifts your dress over your head and tosses the fabric away, too.
He takes a step back and admires you. You still have your ankle socks on, but God, you’re so gorgeous he thinks he’s in heaven. “You’re so pretty, bunny. The prettiest bunny I’ve ever seen,” he compliments. You grow shy and smile before whispering a thank you. You smile at the camera, and he begins to undress. The first thing that goes is the robe, and his chest is now exposed.
Helmut hasn’t shaved his chest hair, and you’re glad. It looks nice on him––but to be fair––anything does. All he has on is those swim shorts. God, you love those shorts so much. They’re no longer wet, and yet they still cling to his thighs. He slowly pulls them down––and you feel as though you should look away and give him privacy––but you just can’t. His cock is hard, and it shows through the fabric, but you’re too busy staring at his hands to notice it.
His Adonis belt is slowly exposed, along with his pelvic bone, as he pulls down his boxers as well. There’s a small bush of hair right above his cock, and you find yourself wanting to tangle your fingers between the strands. Helmut’s cock bounces up––hard, red, and leaking––and the tip slaps right below his belly button. You let out a gasp, and he chuckles. His swim shorts lie on the floor, and you’re suddenly being urged to lay back.
Helmut climbs on top of you, caging you beneath his well-built body. Soft abs that are just perfect enough for you, and big hands that hold you so lovingly. He wants to feel his rough palms against your delicate skin, falling into every groove and curve there is. Like an artist admiring their artwork, he runs his hands along your body. From your thighs to your hips, over your stomach, between your breasts, all the way up to your neck. His hard cock is between your legs, nearly touching your sensitive little pussy.
You swallow nervously at the feeling. Helmut’s left hand wraps around your throat, and his right hand moves downwards to your legs. Gripping your calf, he places your right leg on the head of the couch and moves to position your left leg so that it hangs off the edge of the seat. You’re spread wide open for Helmut, not able to hide your naked body or close your legs. Your hands rest above your head, almost as though you’re pathetically shielding your hair from the rain.
Helmut’s hand still rests on your neck, but he doesn’t squeeze your throat or anything like that. You’re not sure if he’s playing the antagonist or not, but you decide to just go along with what he does. “You’re okay, right, bunny? You’re fine, I’m gonna treat you so good,” he promises, and you give him your best superstar smile. You have to admit that you’re nervous, but you trust him completely. Helmut would never do anything wrong to you.
“Has anyone ever touched you down here, bunny? Have you ever touched down here?” he questions you, walking his fingers up to your soaking wet pussy. “Hmm, uh, I touched it once, but I didn’t know what was happening, so I stopped,” you shyly explain to him, and he nods. “That’s okay, bunny. Can I touch you here? I won’t hurt you too badly, I promise,” Helmut assures you, and you nod. His index finger sticks out, and he watches as slick drips from your hole and coats the silky skin around it.
The digit becomes a bit shiny and quite sticky, and he traces your slit lightly. You shiver lightly from his touch, and sensitivity blooms in your core. “Uhm… Daddy?” you call out to him, a bit worried. “What’s wrong, bunny?” he asks, bringing his finger up to your clit. It throbs with want, just like the veins on his cock. “It feels very sensitive, almost too sensitive…” you admit to him, even though he continues to touch your clit.
“That’s okay, bunny, that’s how it’s supposed to feel. But if you want to stop, just tell me,” Helmut urges you. “Okay, Daddy.” He rubs your little nub in small, light circles. The muscles in your legs twitch, and you bite down on your bottom lip. He continues to touch your clit, and you begin to writhe from the overwhelming feeling. You let out a few whines, and Helmut watches as your cunt just gets wetter and wetter.
You try to shift his hands away from you in your weird position. It’s just too much at once, and you’re scared of what will happen next. The pornstar’s finger slips off your cunt, and he lets out a small gasp. The sound is mixed with displeasure, and you look him in the eyes with innocence. “Don’t do that again, bunny,” he warns, squeezing your neck a bit just to add to his threat. His index finger returns to your clit, and this time, he rubs your little pearl even harder. You see stars, ones that are dark and would be hidden in the blackness of outer space. Your eyes roll back into your skull, and you’ve never felt such pleasure in your life. Helmut’s digit touches the most sensitive part of your clit, and you jerk in response. Your legs try to shut close, but his body stops you from doing so.
When you open your eyes, you’re faced with a displeased superstar. Helmut lets out a shaky exhale, trying to compose himself. He knows he shouldn’t get mad at you, but he just doesn’t like it when he doesn’t have his way. His hand leaves your cunt and moves downwards. Suddenly, a harsh slap lands on your ass, making you cry out in pain. The skin stings and prickles, and you can feel slight tears beginning to form in your eyes.
Instead of staring at your pretty little face, Helmut squeezes your neck even tighter and watches as your little hole begins to leak with even more wetness. “Aww, bunny, did you enjoy Daddy hitting you? Hm? I bet you did; that’s you’re so wet,” he chuckles, and you grow shy. He’s not wrong, though. You enjoyed the pain quite a bit, even though you tend to avoid any and all activities that could leave you with a minor injury.
“Such a little slut for pain. But I bet you don’t like it when Daddy gets mean with you, right? Yeah, because you’re just a sensitive little bunny,” he coos, and you smile. You nod to him, and he grins down at you. Helmut’s cock is a furious red, almost purple if you really look closely. Beads of precum run down the sides of his cock, all the way to his thick base. He slaps your ass once more, enjoying the way you flinch and then smile from delight.
“I guess I’ve been a bit mean, just touching your little button without even letting you come…” he sighs before shifting onto his knees. Helmut looks over to the camera, just to make sure it’s still recording. And it is, so he smiles. He towers over you even more now, a few strands on his hair dangling downwards, and you find yourself wanting to play with them. The hand that was on your ass grasps the base of his cock, and he runs the head through your folds.
A quiet squelching sound echoes between the both of you, and you giggle. Your laughter is cut short when he bumps up against your clit, and you let out a moan. The sound is unexpected on your behalf, but Helmut just smirks. Your moans turn into a string of shallow pants, and he curses under his breath at the feeling. Dragging his head away from your clit, he brings himself down to your hole, and you let out an even louder gasp.
“Shh, just let Daddy in, okay? I know it’s your first time, but it’s okay. You’re fine, don’t worry,” Helmut reassures. You nod your head and let out a pained cry as he pushes into you slowly. You feel as though you’re being torn apart, split into two. He grips your throat even tighter, and you wrap your hand around his wrist in a panicked, fleeting moment.
Helmut sheathes himself inside you, with your mouth parted open in a silent scream and his eyebrows knitted together. He eventually bottoms out, and the stretch of his cock goes from a harsh burn to a pleasurable feeling. His swollen balls touch your aching ass, and he bends down to kiss your forehead lightly. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he questions. “Y- Yes, it feels really good, Daddy. Just a li’l uncomfortable, but it feels really good,” you tell him.
Your cunt squeezes him in a tight hug, your silky wet walls welcoming him in hesitantly. He wishes to stay inside you his whole life, and he would if he could convince you. Helmut pulls out until his head is the only thing inside you before roughly thrusting back inside. You cry out, and his hand loosens around your throat. “Such a good girl, letting me use your pussy for my pleasure. You like being recorded while I fuck you, right? Say it,” he demands, fucking into you roughly.
Your tits bounce with each and every movement. Helmut’s cock gets closer and closer to your sweet spot, and you moan loudly. “I- I like being recorded while you fuck me, Daddy,” you repeat to him. Helmut groans loudly, and you clench down on his cock tightly. “You feel so good, bunny, better than anyone else,” he compliments, feeling slick sweat beginning to build upon his back. “Uhm, Daddy? S- Something’s happening,” you whisper to him through your desperate cries of pleasure.
Searing heat grows hotter and hotter in your stomach, right above your pussy. You’ve never felt like this before, other than when Helmut was touching your pussy a few moments ago. “Let it happen, bunny, it’s okay, come all over Daddy’s big cock. I know you can do it, squeeze me, bunny,” Helmut urges, and you listen to him. The powerful feeling grows and grows, and so do your moans. And the elastic cord breaks eventually. It always does.
You cry out ‘Daddy’ as you come undone around his cock for the very first time. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm, even though you’re gripping him so tightly. You gush all over him, wetness coating his cock, and it makes him fuck you even quicker. The sound of skin on skin and loud moans fill the room, and Helmut hopes to God that the microphone is picking up on it all. The feeling in your body makes you lose all sense of reality, and you’re babbling like a little baby.
“Daddy- It’s too much,” you sob to him, digging your nails into your palms. “Shh, it’s okay, bunny,” he shushes gently, keeping his hand wrapped lazily around your neck. Helmut’s cock slams into your cunt, pounding into you ruthlessly, yet he’s somehow oh so gentle. Your eyes roll into the back of your head again, and you moan gently as you feel another climax being built up. Back to back, and you’re not sure how your body is going to handle it.
He’s close, too. He’s never had this happen before, and he’s not sure what to think of it.
“Awe, you’re going to come again, bunny? That’s okay, shh, Daddy’s here, bunny. We’ll do it together, and it’ll b- be good,” he tells you, and you nod. Helmut bends down and places his shiny forehead against yours. He stares you into your glassy eyes––they’re hazy––and he can tell you’re gone. You’ve gotten all stupid and dumb for his cock, and he loves the idea so much.
You both pant as he sloppily fucks into your cunt, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. “Fuck, I can’t wait to fill up your tight little pussy with my cum. Gonna watch it leak out, and I’m just gonna fill you up over and over again. Make you all mine because you belong to me. Right? Say it,” he growls, fucking you even faster. “I’m all yours, Daddy, I’m all yours,” you say to him, and you’re both pushed off the edge after one specific thrust.
“O- Oh my…” you choke out, squeezing your eyes shut. Helmut curses loudly, saying all kinds of sinful things that a nun would faint if she hears him. His cock twitches as he comes inside you, and your pussy squeezes him as you let go. Streaks of cum shoot out his tip and paint your inner walls, and it all begins to leak out already. Your cum mixes with his, and he can’t lie and say he doesn’t enjoy the sight of it.
He presses a kiss on your nose before slowly pulling out. Helmut’s cock is still hard, and he just knows the afternoon won’t end until he says so. You wince loudly at the feeling of emptiness and overwhelming sensitivity. “Sorry, bunny,” he frowns, reaching over for the camera. You watch him through droopy eyelids as he focuses it on your cunt, then to your body, and then to your face.
“Did I do good, Daddy?” you ask him excitedly.
“So good, bunny. You’re going to be sweeping up at the awards next year.”
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becca-e-barnes · 3 years
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hi lovely, I wanted to make a request about a sensitive topic, so it's ok if you decide not to.
But if you decide to do it, Zemo x Reader where she has been sexually abused and he comforts her, because I just need him to tell me that it was not my fault.
I sometimes remember the moment it happened and it makes me really sad and guilty. I'm really sorry if this request triggers you. Thank you in advance🖤
Honey omg, can I start off by saying whatever happened was absolutely not your fault. I woke up at 5am and saw this request and I just couldn’t get back to sleep until I had started writing it. I was in a similar situation a few years ago so this is really based off my experience and how I found I dealt with it. While it still upsets me sometimes I’ve found I don’t think about it as often as I used to so it does get better, I promise. I actually found this quite cathartic to write since it’s something I don’t talk about much. If you ever want a little chat, please don’t be scared to shoot me a message! Hope you’re doing okay 💗
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Pairing: Helmut Zemo x GN! Reader
(Again, the fact this is gender neutral was a happy accident but I wanted it to be applicable to anyone that might find some comfort in it)
Word count: 1.5 k
Summary: You have a bad night and Zemo comforts you (list of international resources at the end.)
Warnings: TW: Sexual Assault mention, please don’t read this if those themes will upset you. There are no graphic descriptions, this is more just the reader dealing with the aftermath. Hurt/ comfort, quite dark, angst, Zemo does his best but everyone heals differently, fluff.
You weren’t quite sure how it had happened but it had become one of those nights where reality had become a little too heavy to handle. You had went to bed feeling fine but woke in the early hours, head swimming with the recollection of everything that had happened. All of a sudden, sleep was the last thing on your mind, your body jarred awake by the painful memories and the sickly feeling that always accompanied them. Rather than spend the night tossing and turning in bed beside your boyfriend, you got up, hauling your sleep deprived frame from the warmth of your bed, heading to the little snug at the end of the hall. Grounding yourself wasn’t easy when you felt like this, but you had to take the time to notice the little things or risk losing yourself in the past altogether. You let yourself notice the little breeze that came in through the window down your hall, the smooth feeling of the wooden bannister under your fingertips and the cold that travelled up your bare legs as your feet padded softly across the wooden floor. Your pyjama shorts tickled the tops of your thighs as you walked the short distance before you gently pushed the heavy wooden door, admiring how it manoeuvred silently under your touch, despite it’s weight. None of these things were particularly special, often lost in the monotony of day to day life but during these early mornings where the past felt all too real, they were little blessings, reminders of the present.
Closing the door behind you quietly, you made your way over to the little cushioned window ledge. It had been extended so it was easily large enough to sit on, giving you a vantage point to look out the topmost window of the house, completely unobstructed. You settled into the familiar spot, legs crossed in front of you. From here you could see everything that went on in the grounds of Helmut’s massive estate. You could see the little stream running down beside your house, often your favourite point of focus as it was ever changing and therefore, distracting. Huge birds swooped and dived at the lake, hoping to procure some breakfast for themselves and their young, some flying off triumphantly with a tasty fish while others left with nothing, frustrated by the difficulties of hunting. Apart from the running water and their squawks, there were no other sounds to disturb the early morning air.
The birds were an adequate distraction for around an hour before you began to lose interest, feeling your mind wander once more in a direction you didn’t want it to take. That pang of guilt hit you deep in the chest as you began to feel like your body was tainted in some way. Horrible memories flooded your head, memories of roaming hands and that feeling of being painfully helpless, your chest feeling like it might collapse under the weight of those memories. You had no more tears left to cry when you thought about what had happened, while it still hurt as intensely as it did, the memories weren’t often accompanied by tears anymore, rather a guilty ache in your chest that threatened to consume you and you honestly weren’t sure which was worse. A good cry used to get it all out, give you the opportunity to start fresh and you often felt all the better for it when you were done but the ache was harder to manage. You hated how this was now something you had to live with, knowing that someone else’s actions had such a huge reign over your life.
You were so lost in thought, you hadn’t even noticed Helmut slipping in behind you until you heard the faint click of the heavy wooden door.
“Bad night my love?” He asked softly, his voice barely disturbing the calm, his accent noticeably thicker after he had just woken up. He was still in a little thin pair of cotton pyjamas, hair messy and tousled from sleep. You could only nod in response, noticing how his lips pressed together so he didn’t voice his anger about the person that had done this to you. He didn’t want the focus of this to be on them and their selfish actions, that wasn’t helpful but it didn’t stop his blood boiling in his veins. Dealing with this was often as hard for him as it was for you, seeing the only person he loved so dearly feel the way you did, knowing you were hurting and he wasn’t able to take the pain away sometimes brought him to a very dark place.
“May I touch you?” He whispered quietly, knowing that sometimes having that contact could be worse for you.
“Please.” You nodded simply, feeling his body slot in behind yours. His legs bracketed yours, arms wrapped around your waist and his head buried in the crook of your neck as you both went back to watching the birds silently. His heart beating in his chest was comforting against you, the rise and fall of his breathing giving you something else to focus on.
“This is not your cross to bear alone, my dove.” He whispered, thumbs rubbing at the exposed skin of your waist where your pyjama top had ridden up slightly.
“I know I just… Didn’t want to wake you.” You replied, equally softly.
“How many times must I tell you sweetheart, I want you to wake me. Let me be there for you.” He pleaded, pressing little kisses to your shoulders, hoping to rid your arms of the goosebumps that had begun to form. He was not mad, not at you anyway, understanding that sometimes you just needed the time alone to come to terms with things but if you needed him, he wanted to be there. There was a heavy pause that hung in the air after that, both of you slightly weighed down by the gravity of the emotions this can inflict on you as a couple.
“Can I talk about it?” You asked softly. It wasn’t something you did very often, preferring not to burden Helmut too much with the details. He had heard it all before so nothing would surprise him but you were still conscious that it hurt him to hear what had happened.
“Of course.” He answered, gentle chaste kisses to your shoulders reminding you that this was entirely on your terms. He did not press you to talk further when you had said enough, he also didn’t let his own pain at the situation take away from yours, knowing if you needed to talk about it, he had to be there to listen. You took a deep breath, taking one of his hands in yours, clasping them together.
“I just feel… Tainted? I feel guilty. Feel like I could’ve done more to stop it.” You knew you couldn’t have done more but there was always a nagging sense of ‘what if’. Helmut nodded from behind you, giving your hand a little squeeze, waiting to see if you wanted to continue. “Feel like it’s my fault. And now I have to deal with it. But you don’t have to.” You explained quietly, ache in your chest growing to sharp pain.
“You are not tainted my love. Nor was it your fault. You could not have done more to prevent it and even if you could, that is not the point. You shouldn’t have had to do more. One ‘no’ should have been enough.” It killed him to know you thought like this about yourself. He didn’t see you like that at all. Your body wasn’t tainted from what had happened, it didn’t make him want you less. It made him admire your strength and courage, seeing how you got up every morning and took care of the body you blamed. “Your blame is misplaced my love. The blame is not yours to carry. You have done no wrong.” His words made warmth flourish in your chest, hearing him listen to you and truly understand meant more to you than he would ever know.
“Thank you Helmut.” You whispered, tears brimming in your eyes, spilling over your cheeks but not from sadness, more from the unconditional love Helmut afforded you, the time he took to make you be gentler to your body again making you feel more loved than you could’ve imagined possible.
“Not at all, my sweet.” He whispered, gripping you just a little tighter. He loved you, every single part of you. To him, you were perfect and nothing would change that. He just wanted to help you through your pain and absolve you of it, hoping some day you could see yourself how he saw you.
A/N: I’m going to drop this link here just in case it’s needed, this was the most comprehensive resource I could find. If you need it, please do use it. 💗
https://osapr.harvard.edu/international-resources-0
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lastxviolet · 3 years
Text
Madripoor is for Lovers (Zemo x F!Reader - Ch. 4
Summary: Y/N is a SWORD agent recruited to help Sam and Bucky track down Karli and the super-soldiers. When Helmut Zemo joins the team, he takes a special interest in her. The friendly union is wrought for disaster, but then things take a turn for the worst when Y/N is taken as collateral. Will Zemo keep her forever? Does she even want to escape? And what happened in Madripoor that made the whole thing so complicated?
Warnings: mention of violence
https://archiveofourown.org/works/32878015/chapters/81589774
Madripoor was lovely until the shootout started.
It was difficult to appreciate the city views or even the night before as the shipyard collapsed around you.
One second you were running through fire and smoke, and the next, searing pain ripped through your bicep. The shrapnel and spewed toxic lab material were an afterthought as you hit the ground, clutching the place where a bullet grazed you.
The pain made it impossible to get up, open your eyes, or care about broken glass scraping your exposed skin. The smoke left you breathless, making the scream in your throat die before it could alert your friends of your location. You thought that maybe you heard Sam yell your name from somewhere far away — too far away.
Your lungs stopped fighting to scream and began the fight for air. Short puffs were all you could manage. Counting them held off the thoughts of your body behind left in Madripoor for only a little bit before your vision tunneled.
A familiar voice wafted through the chaos before darkness took you.
“There you are,” it had said as you felt strong arms lift you from the rubble.
That was all you could remember as you awoke from a hazy dream.
There was pressure on your arm and even with your eyes closed, you sensed the presence of people looming over you. They spoke but a harsh white noise filled your head, drowning out their words.
As the grogginess faded away, reality hit. You were on a plane. There was no mistaking the familiar rocking and engines rumble. A sickening thought hit you. Was this a military plane taking you back home, or Zemo’s private jet again. If your injurers were enough to land you in a hospital Sam would've called for backup, even in Madripoor.
You squeezed your eyes tight, unwilling to return to reality. This could be the moment you woke up and went back to your normal life.
The last week of your life had felt like a dream. Galavanting through Europe with super soldiers, uniting forces with a notorious villain, and forming a makeshift Avengers.
You still couldn’t decide if Zemo’s involvement made it more dream or nightmare. Either way, you didn’t feel ready to give it up. Opening your eyes meant coming to terms with what happened. This morning at breakfast, nerves had made it impossible to eat. You’d been sure that Zemo would make some mention of what the two of you had done. He could use the information against you, or worse, Bucky and Sam.
The thought of their eyes turning on you with disappointment almost made you keep your eyes closed for the rest of the ride but a sharp pain chose for you. The overwhelming throbbing of your arm shot you back into full consciousness. A guttural groan was all you could muster to alert the looming figures of your state.
“She’s back!”
Sam bent into view. From behind him, you saw the pristine accents of the private plane. Your heart fluttered.
They’d brought you with them.
Sam knelt next to the couch you’d been laid out on and placed a hand on your leg.
“How you feeling?”
Your mouth was too dry to speak so you nodded and took in more of your surroundings. The bathroom was near your feet, so you were facing backward.
A blanket weighed you down but you tried to sit up anyway. Sam’s arm shot out and knocked you back. He yanked the blanket up towards your neck and eyed the edge to make sure it reached your chin. The cool air on your back told you that someone had taken your shirt off to get to the wound.
“Nothing I have not seen before.”
The voice flooded your body with heat, making your cheeks burn. For the first time, you turned to see who was tending to your arm.
Zemo stared at Sam with a smile and continued. “From her dress last night, of course.”
That was the voice you’d heard. That was the voice that had saved you.
It wasn’t Sam or Bucky, it was the man they’d told you to hate. He’d come back through the flames, gunfire, and danger to pluck you out of the wreckage and bring you to safety. And now he healed you with his own two hands. He didn’t look you in the eye or acknowledge you at all as he bent his neck to focus on your wound.
You returned your gaze to Sam and spoke before Zemo made any more taunts or innuendos about last night. For now, you were partially certain that he hadn’t told anyone what happened. Sam’s demeanor might be quite different with you if he had.
“What happened?”
“I’ll tell you when we land, you need to rest.”
“I’m fine,” your voice came out as a croak. The room around you spun with the exertion of energy, proving your words false.
Sam chuckled and tapped your shin a few times while exchanging words that you couldn’t hear with Zemo. They leaned close and shared a worried glance before Sam entered the main cabin, closing the sliding door behind him.
You felt Zemo's hands at work but the pain subsided. Something had numbed your arm, or perhaps your brain had done you a favor and cut ties with the nerves there altogether.
Alone again, you stared at him, conscious of your hammering heartbeat and the fact that this was the second time you'd been topless in front of him in 24-hours.
“What are you doing?”
“Listen to your comrade. You need sleep.”
His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, sweat forming on his forehead and upper lip. His face was more flushed than normal, almost as if he’d been running but his breathing wasn’t heavy behind his firmly set jaw.
“Thank you,” you muttered. “For saving me.”
A frustrated sigh was all he responded with.
Of all the expressions you’d seen of his, you couldn’t understand this one. No smirk formed as he worked. And where his eyes usually told you everything you needed to know, all they communicated was his desperate need for sleep.
You choked a few words out to quell the tension and distract your mind.
“Were you a medic?”
He shook his head. “Our army did not have enough enlisted for such distinction. I was a commander but we had to learn everything.”
“Commander,” you repeated. “Baron. Quite the collection of titles.”
You smiled and raised your eyebrows in jest, noticing that you felt lighter than before. An odd giddy feeling bloomed in your chest, despite the dull pain. He must have given you some sort of pain medication before you woke up.
The drugs continued for you. “I’m just an anomaly investigator so I don’t know how to do all that.”
“I’m sure you could learn.”
“I’d need a teacher.”
He hung his head and you adverted your eyes. Even without the oncoming haziness from the drugs, you knew that this little game of flirtations should stop. You opened your mouth to change the subject but he beat you to it.
“I’m not sure we have enough time.” His voice had a twinge of sadness as he spoke the truth.
Eventually, you’d part ways and the world would be better for it. The mission would be over and he’d have less to worry about with the super-soldier serum destroyed.
“Well, who knows how long it will take to catch Karli and…”
He flashed you a somber look and your voice caught in your throat. He wasn’t talking about the mission. He was talking about the two of you.
That's right. Reality came back into full force then, knocking sense into your head.
He was a criminal who'd be locked up for the rest of his days and you would go back to your full-time job, fighting people like him.
It shouldn’t have been as big of a blow as it was, because you’d only known each other a few days. If the drugs and exhaustion weren’t keeping you firmly in place under the threat of passing out again, you’d run as far away from this man as you could.
He was a criminal. He was not to be trusted.
But he’d saved your life.
He didn’t have to, in fact, it didn’t make an iota of sense that he did. But the words he’d whispered on the balcony floated back to you.
Had he meant it all?
His strained voice invaded your pestering thoughts.
“Suffering by nature or chance never seems so painful as suffering inflicted on us by the arbitrary will of another,” he said, caressing your bare skin one last time before tucking your arm underneath the blanket. “Do you know who said that?”
You shook your head, ruffling your hair with the pillow.
“Arthur Schopenhauer. The philosopher of pessimism.”
The fresh stitches scratched against the fabric as you turned towards him.
“A terrible choice for a man in prison,” you whispered.
He played with a roll of gauze in his hands, turning it over and over. The muscles of his jaw flexed and clenched as he sorted through his thoughts before speaking.
“Is it surprising though? For a man with a life sentence?”
He met your eyes then. The hard glare almost made you flinch.
Your heart ached for him. You knew firsthand the harm the Avenger had caused, but you also knew it could’ve been worse. The eradication of Sokovia had been to avoid the destruction of the world. But that had been his family, his home, his world. You knew his vision had tunneled because of what he’d gone through. A smart, military man knew the cost of peace but resented who had to pay.
Did he not think that was what everyone who had to pull a trigger in the name of peace thought of? Did he think that made him different from the Avengers?
Again, the drugs moved your mouth before you could think better of your words.
“Maybe we can push for better arrangements? Your assistance to the US must count for something —“
He raised his hand to silence you before you could finish the thought.
“That opportunity passed as soon as you assisted my escape. You know, as well as I how this will end. It is not the United States that is most concerned with my sentence but those who are will insist upon a worse cell, where they do not negotiate for amenities or comfort.”
Your stomach dropped with the realization. “The Raft.”
He was right. You knew he was. In all the chaos, Wakanda hadn’t crossed your mind, but this was a betrayal of mass proportions. His life sentence was their revenge and they wouldn’t take his brief freedom lightly. You couldn’t blame them of course. He’d assassinated their king in cold blood, in front of the world.
Prison had seemed like a joke to him before. When you’d first spoken to him in his cell with Bucky, it almost seemed amusing. Now the weight of his reality seemed to have set in. You wondered what changed.
“Do you not think you deserve it…your sentence?”
He squinted and stared over your head towards the windows. “That is not the question.”
His words felt the same as the bullet that had hit your arm; sharp, and perfectly aimed.
Normally your banter felt like a dance. There was no point to get across, or set path. You simply swayed back and forth, feeling each other out. But this time, it felt like he had something to say but was unwilling to go through the elegant waltz that you usually did.
The realization struck like lightning.
“Whether you’ll serve it,” you asked hesitantly, hoping for the first time in your conversations with him that you were wrong. His eyes gave nothing away but the hint of a smirk ghosted his lips.
Warning bells rang in your head, overwhelming your thoughts and any willpower to be careful with your words.
“Helmut, you’d be insane to escape the raft and even crazier to tell me about it.”
His eyes widened at the sound of his name.
“But I am not in the raft, am I?”
You stared at him in silence, failing to hide your angry expression.
“Perhaps, I never will be,” he finished with a raise of his eyebrows.
There it was.
He flinched as you brought your good arm up to swat his leg.
“Why would you say that,” you hissed.
He caught your hand, lowering it back down to your side. His fingers lingered around yours, caressing the back of your hand in a random pattern. It was then his smirk reappeared. Whether it was because of how your fingers gravitated towards his, or your anger, was unclear.
“I thought you might like to know.”
You shook your head and dropped his hand. “You’re insane.”
The Zemo that everyone else knew returned right before your eyes. He lived to taunt everyone and everything. You’d only ever seen the mask drop for you but now it was back up.
“No heavy lifting for a while, yes?”
The change in his voice was a show for the others as he stood and spoke loud enough to fill the cabin.
To hell with the pain. You ripped off the blankets and sat up. Thankfully, you’d been mistaken before, you weren’t topless, a thin sports bra kept you from being exposed.
“Zemo —”
“I do think it will heal in a few days —”
“— that would get you killed.”
He busied himself with something and paid you no mind as he spoke.
“— so the hospital in Riga won’t be necessary.”
You used the rest of your energy to shove him. Hard. All your strength went into it. All your frustration with his past decisions that separated you and the future ones that might keep him from you still. There was no way for you to be together and so you put all the maddening anguish into his back.
He hardly registered the blow as he spun, bringing his face inches from yours.
“Do you plan to be a criminal for the rest of your life? Is being on the run better than serving time for something you did?”
His eyes kept his concerned doctor mask for a second and then you saw the damn break. His iris’s widened, making an angry abyss of his warm eyes. You had no choice but to sit back down as he marched forward and braced an arm on the back of the couch, hovering over you.
“Something I did?” He asked in a dangerous tone.
You held his gaze and sunk into the cushions. Fear. You should’ve felt fear but a familiar heat rose from between your legs. You willed it away and focused on his quirked mouth, almost quivering with anger.
“Was it I who destroyed a country — thousands of lives? I, who created that hellish serum that makes gods out of man? I, who unleashed them on the world without a leash?”
He paused and leaned closer, waiting for an answer.
“No,” you whispered.
“One man receives life in prison while a band of thugs runs free, wreaking havoc on earth and calling it justice. They are your friends, are they not? That is your side. So why would you, S.W.O.R.D agent, fighter for the United States, Avenger, care about my sentence?”
His nostrils flared as he hissed and anger burned in his eyes. You could’ve retreated from the accusation that you were the same as those you worked with. But it wasn’t true. It might have been foolish to think that you knew him but the delusion made you speak softy, and tame the beast.
“Because I know what you’re doing.”
He flinched at the words, offended by the meaning and delicate tone. Again, you wondered the last person to show him any kindness or regard him with gentle eyes.
“Enlighten me about what you think you know.”
His jaw was tense when you brought your face closer to his and spoke in nothing more than a whisper.
“You obsess over revenge in the hopes that it will fill the holes in your heart left by loss. I know that you think keeping yourself distracted will heal you but it’s not true. The harder you run away from all that pain, the worse it’ll be when it finally catches up.”
There was more anger in his face when you finished than there was when you started. He stood and straightened his jacket before clearing his throat, unwilling to let you finish.
You tried to get up and follow but blood rushed to your head as soon as you stood up. The room spun and your vision tunneled. The roar of white noise washed over you again, threatening to send you back into unconsciousness.
Steady hands were on you in an instant, making sure you didn’t fall. Despite everything, Zemo reached out and folded you into his chest. One arm looped around your waist, and the other tentatively held up your injury.
“Lie down, liebling,” he whispered, not looking you in the eye.
He laid you down and pulled the blanket back up to cover your torso. You tried to focus by counting your breaths and watching the man who made good on his promise to be sweet as he looked for something in his bag.
He came close again and silently helped you pull one of his sweaters over your head. You hissed in pain as he straightened your arm through the sleeve and he made a disapproving look as if it hurt him as well.
He stood to leave but you held onto his wrist.
“Distractions won’t heal you, Helmut. Nothing — no one can,” you said through the haze, searching for him in your clouded vision. “Only you.”
You meant it, deeply. Even though you longed to be someone that could put broken things back together. You meant it, despite knowing that it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
Zemo withdrew from your space and sat the chair opposite, watching you from afar as the plane began its descent. The words he’d said when he’d found you played over and over in your head as you watched him too. His expression was thoughtful and less angry than before. He looked to be mulling something over, and you wondered if your words had made a difference but it was impossible to tell. Sleep threatened to take you again, but you fought it off, opting for a staring contest with the man you couldn’t ever seem to figure out.
It wasn’t until the plane was safely on the ground that Zemo moved.
He crossed the plane to you like a rubber band being flung across the room before tucking one arm underneath your shoulder blades and the other under your knees, scooping you into a bridal carry. Eyes level now, he drew in close and pressed a kiss to your cheek.
“You underestimate yourself,” was all he said before walking out into the cabin, towards the exit.
The door opened before you could object and both Sam and Bucky’s faces fell immediately.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Zemo ignored Bucky’s protest and pushed through them to descend the stairs. The sun was too bright so you shut your eyes and leaned into the man holding you. The man who had admitted that you might be enough to heal him. Your heart ached at the impossibility of it but you let yourself live in the fantasy for a little longer.
“James, are you not a gentleman?”
“She hurt her arm, she can walk fine,” Bucky yelled from behind you, stomping down the stairs.
Zemo’s chest rumbled as he spoke. “The question is not can she do it, but whether she should have to.”
Sam piped up, his voice exhausted from the journey. “Put her down, Zemo.”
The man didn’t listen, of course, and crossed the tarmac before setting you down gently a step away from the opened car door. You hobbled in and looked him in the eyes a final time. He no longer looked to be mulling over his thoughts, but rather, like he’d decided something.
“Chivalry may not be dead but it does seem to have many enemies,” he said with a wink, before closing the door.
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dragon-kazansky · 3 years
Text
Til death do us part | Helmut Zemo
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Bodyguard AU! 🕶
Gender neutral reader
Collage by @realremyd
[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]
Part 10
The very day the rest of the guards that Steve had contacted arrived. He gathered them for a meeting to brief them on the job. He was worried about the group that had taken you out of action for a while.
You had begun to suspect that Zemo knew exactly who they were and what they wanted, but he hadn't informed you about them at all. Since it wasn't deemed important enough for you to know, you didn't ask.
You had been excused from Zemo's side, reluctantly for him, to join Steve and Bucky outside.
The boys were stood with their hands behind the back watching the new lot get used to the grounds. It was important they knew their way around.
You came up beside Steve.
"Morning."
"Morning, Y/N," he smiles.
"How is it being Zemo's personal bodyguard?" Bucky asks.
You chuckle. "So far so good. No issues to report."
"And in the romance department?" Bucky asks, grinning like a fool.
"Non existent, Buck. Don't be silly," you scold him.
Steve is smiling.
"Not you too, Rogers."
"I'm sorry, Y/N, but I think Bucky is right. I honestly believe the Baron may have feelings for you."
"Why would he? He hated me when we met."
"You saved his life," Bucky reminds you, "that is plenty enough to change a point of view on someone."
You sigh.
"I suppose."
You knew it was probably true just from the way he had been treating you. You felt less like a bodyguard and more like a guest. Even you could tell he was reaching for any excuse to keep you near him.
You would just go back to being the professional you were and decline politely, having excuses of your own to do other things.
He was your boss.
"Nothing is going to happen, so no point in bringing it up any more," you tell them.
"You sound so sure of that," Bucky says.
"Because I am."
Neither one of them mentions it further. The new group finish their tour of the outside grounds, and it's here you decide to go back inside, leaving Steve and Bucky to show them the rest.
Bucky watches you go, feeling bad about teasing you, but also not because he knows it's true.
You pass Natasha on tour way back inside.
"Can I join you?" She asks.
"I don't see why not," you chuckle.
The pair of you walk in perfect sync as you head upstairs. The house is quiet as you walk your usual route.
"Are you not scared they'll come back?" She asks, looking at you from the corner of her eye. Natasha had been worried sick after you were rushed off to hospital. There hadn't been much word about your status until they all got back to the hotel. She was scared it was going to end badly.
Then they heard you were stable and she let out the biggest sigh of relief. It painted them that they couldn't all come and visit you, but Steve assured them you were on the mend.
You sigh softly.
"Honestly, yes."
Natasha didn't miss the way you reached u pro your shoulder for just a moment. Obviously it bothered you everytime that day was mentioned.
"But in here to do a job and I'll do it again if i have to. My life for his."
"It's a reckless job, isn't it?"
You smile softly. "Yes, it is, but it is also the most rewarding. We are duty bound to protect someone and I did just that."
She smiles.
"And I'm sure you'll be rewarded handsomely for it too."
You narrow you eyes at her, lips tugging into a frown.
"What do you mean by that?"
She laughs a little. "The Baron fancies you, perhaps your reward is, well, him."
"You too? Natasha, no! I just told Steve and Bucky off for this. Even if he does like me, I won't peruse it. I'm here to do a job, Natasha. He trusts me with his life."
"Maybe he just wants to keep you close to him."
"You're being ridiculous," you sigh.
The pair of you reach Zemo's office. You stop outside and turn to your dear friend.
"Trust me, nothing is going to happen here."
She looks sceptical, but Natasha doesn't say anything and just nods once. She gestures to the door and leaves silently.
You hold your head up high and knock on the door.
"Come in."
You open the door and enter. The door closes gently behind you, and then you make your way over to the Baron to stand behind him.
You ignore the way he watches you do so. You can feel his eyes on you as you pass him.
Helmut hides his smile as he looks back down at his work. He was glad you were here. He had missed your presence in the room. You had this calming affect for him and he noticed it greatly when you were gone.
He hadn't got very far with his work. For every time you leave him, his mind lingers on you. He wonders what you'll do, where you'll go, if you think of him as he does you.
Whenever he thought about that last part, his heart was skip a beat.
Zemo's thoughts came to a halt when another knock sounded at his door. He gave them permission to enter.
A maid enters. One you've seen around the estate. She is carrying a tray with a tea set on it. The maid approaches the desk and places the tray down. Helmut thanks her quietly and she then excuses herself.
Helmut pours himself a cup.
You admire the little tea set. It's all matching. All made from china. White with flowers painted onto them in an intricate design. Simple, yet classy.
Too busy admiring the teacups, you only just realise he is pouring another cup.
"Sit."
You glance at him quickly. He was obviously talking to you as you were the only other person in the room. Not wanting to argue with him, you take a seat opposite him, all while keeping your wits about you just in case.
Helmut places the other teacup in front of you. You stare at it.
"For you," he chuckles softly.
"Um, thank you, sir."
You accept it. You sip the hot contents of the cup and hum softly. It was very nice. You hide your smile behind your cup, hoping he wasn't looking at you right now.
Problem is, he is always looking at you when you're within his eyeline.
"How did you get into this line of work?" He asks, desperate to get you to open up to him. He wanted to know about you, hear you say more than a few words to him.
"Steve Rogers is a dear friend of mine. He was looking for recruits back when the agency was just starting. I told him I was interested, but I had no training. He assured me that was alright and introduced me to Natasha. She became my mentor. Everything I know, I learned from Nat. Within the first month of my employment, I received my first assignment. I've been a bodyguard ever since."
He smiled. This was progress. You were opening up to him and he was happy.
"Then I should thank Mr. Rogers and Miss. Romanoff," he says, smiling softly.
"Thank them?"
"If not for them, I wouldn't have such a hard working and efficient bodyguard."
"With all due respect, sir, you didn't think that way when we met."
His smile fades. Of course you wouldn't forget about that. First impressions are important and he had ruined it by thinking lesser of you.
You must really hate him for that.
Perhaps he didn't stand a chance with you after all.
"Yes, well, opinions can change," he said, lowering his cup onto it's saucer on the desk.
"Your opinion changed because I took a dee bullets for you. Your opinion changed because I did my job and saved your life."
Normally you would never talk back to your employer, but you wanted him to know how he made you feel.
"I apologise."
"Apologies are unnecessary when I'm doing my duty," you tell him.
"Do you ever not think of your duty?"
"No. When I'm working, all there is to think about is the job."
Helmut looks at you with a longing gaze, not that you see it as such.
"Are you happy?" He asks. The question startles you.
"Happy?"
"Happy doing your duty? Happy putting your life before others. Do you not think your life as important compares to those you serve and protect?"
You stare at him blankly.
"My purpose is to put my life before others. I do what I do because I'm good at it. It is my job to put myself before others in dangerous situations. I wouldn't want to do anything else. I'm here to keep you safe, sir."
Silence falls between you.
All you think about your job and for some reason he hates that fact. Right here in front of him, you aren't your own person, you're someone who lay down their life for whoever employs them.
Once upon a time he had happily felt the same, laying down his life for his country, but things changed. He changed.
"Anything you want, just say the word and I'll get it for you. I want you to be happy in my home."
Our home. He wanted to say our home, but that felt far too personal, even of you were living here now.
You put your cup down and stand up.
"If you'll excuse me, sir, I have to make my rounds."
You leave before he can say anything.
Helmut stares at your half empty teacup. He sighs. The most you had ever said to him, and he had only managed to upset you further. Judging by the way you left, he may have offended you.
His heart was going crazy.
"Why must romance be so difficult?" He sighed, sitting back in his chair.
He just wanted to know you. What a fool he was.
Sitting there in silence, he made a silent promise to make it up to you. He had a mission of his own now.
Helmut Zemo had accepted that he liked you, and now he just had to win you over. He would start tomorrow, when the day was fresh and today could be forgotten.
He was going to show you who he was underneath the title of Baron.
Helmut Zemo was going to win over your heart.
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littlemessyjessi · 3 years
Text
“Mother Nature”: Baron Helmut Zemo Imagine: Plus Size
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A Helmut Zemo Imagine Commissioned by: She chose to remain anon so I won't tag her but thank you love for your commission! Much love! Notes from cx:  "Can you use your oc Jessi for this please? Can we have cottagecore vibes? Can we have an animal mama? Can we have a cool power and some backstory?" Note from myself: Yes, bebe, of course you can have anything you want! -----------  
The tension in the jet could be cut with a knife as the three males resided there.
Sam was caught between irritation at Bucky... in general and due to the fact that he would do nothing but glower at Zemo.
And also by the subject of his glowering himself.
He didn't like the situation in any way, shape or form.
But after coming to the resolution that he was more help to them out of prison that he was in... the both of them had agreed to 'let' him stay.
Even when all of them knew that if and when Zemo was ready to flee... he'd just do it.
"So this woman?" Zemo spoke up.  "Why is it that we must collect her?"
"Collect her?" Sam laughed. "What the fuck, man? She's a woman.  Not a pokemon card."
"We need her." Bucky said shortly.  
"Yeah, we need her." Sam laughed. "What I'm not looking forward to is the ass whoopin that she's undoubtedly gonna dish out when she sees us.  What was it she told you the last time she saw us?"
"Shut up, Sam."
"Oh, yeah.  Something about, 'If I ever see your wish brand Terminator looking ass -"
"Shut. up. Sam."  Bucky snapped.
"Then I'll rip that Transformer's reject arm off and shove it up your ass."  Sam continued through his laughter.
"I think I may like this woman." Zemo said sipping his champagne with a smirk.
Bucky just glowered out the window and Sam looked thoroughly pleased with himself with the torment he'd managed to provide Bucky in only a few short sentences.
"If I may.." Zemo started only to recieve a menacing glare from Bucky.  "If she dislikes you so much what makes you think she'll be willing to help us?"
"Because Jess is easy to bribe." Sam said. "And you're going front the bill for it."
Zemo lifted his eyebrows, "Ah, I thought it would be more interesting.   What's her price?"
"Probably some exotic plant that no one has ever fucking heard of and is impossible to get." Bucky sighed, running a hand down his face.  "She'll let you know."
"If she doesn't shoot us before we get off the jet." Sam pointed out.
Sam wasn't scared of a lot but Jess McCarty was definitely on that list.
Even if he did find her highly entertaining.
"Oh and she hates Sharon." Bucky said staring our the window again. "So don't bring her up."
"I'm not ignorant enough to bring up another woman." Zemo said. "I was married, you know."
He had been teasing but none of them said anything else.
They weren't exactly on the best terms but even still they wouldn't bring up conversation relating to his late family.
Eventually, they landed in large field with a beautiful mountain landscape decorating the distance.
Helmut could distinctly see a large white truck in the distance.
"So much for easing into the situation." Sam said.  "I see she still has Leroy."
"Leroy?" Zemo asked.
"Her truck." Bucky clarified. "Don't ask and don't bring up the bullet holes."
Sam snorted, "Yeah, I think she still owes you a few shots over that."
"Fuck off."
Zemo rolled his eyes at the two of them.
Even after all this time and how much he had become accustomed to their bickering ... it still both amused and annoyed him.
As the three of them descended the stairs of the jet, the slam of a door was heard in the distance.
A woman stepped out and leaned against the grill of the truck, blankly staring them all down.
She was tall, that much Zemo could tell even from a distance, with neck length dark hair that sprung from her head in a wild dark halo.
They'd managed to get about half way to her when she whistled and several dogs bounded from the bed of her truck.
"Fuck." Bucky whispered. "She brought the fucking dogs."
"You better run,"white wolf"." Sam said with a chuckle.
Half amused and half concerned.
"We." he responded. "I'm not the only one here."
"You state your fucking business, Barnes. Before I let them tear you part."
A smirk worked it's way onto Zemo's face as her venomous southern drawl that seemed to contrast so much to her appearance.
She was the picture of lovely.
She looked more like a fairy belonging to a magical woodland than someone associated with the Avengers.
Like a tall, curvaceous Elven queen.
"We need your help and we brought an ATM who has connections." Sam said trying to ease the tension.
She didn't seem impressed.
"I'm not asking again, Barnes.  You got three seconds before I sick the hounds on you.  And they're hungry. We've been into town passed the diner where they're having a fish fry.  My babies are just dying for a snack.  And if you even think about laying one hand on them, I'm turning that fucking arm of yours into a coat rack." she spat.
"God dammit, Jess.  I told you we need your help.  It's a mission and you're the only one who can-" Bucky started before she snapped her fingers and the dogs charged at him. "Shit!"
Realistically, Bucky could've ended those dogs in seconds but if he did, A.) she'd never help them, and B.)  she'd make him suffer for it.
Buck let out some kind of strangled cry as he took off away from the dogs chasing after him.
Zemo, no stranger to the military and the dogs associated with it, noted that none of them actually looked as if they were going to harm him but rather just enjoying the chase.
Bucky didn't need to know that though.
"How long are you gonna let them chase him?" Sam chuckled as he and Zemo finally made their way closer to where she stood leaning against the truck.
Jess shrugged, "So what is it exactly that you need?"
"We just need your help with a mission." Sam said.  "We can talk about the details later if you decide not to kill us."
She scoffed, "I'm not going to kill you, Sam.  But I might maim Barnes a little.  Enough to make me feel better."
She finally turned her eyes on Zemo who gave her a small smile.
"So you're the ATM?" she asked with lifted brows. "Do you have a name? Bank of..."
"This is Zemo." Sam said.  "He's a Baron and he's loaded."
"Zemo." she nodded, dark brows drawing together.
"Please call me Helmut." he said producing a hand.
She took it firmly as she stared at him.
"Zemo..." she said almost tasting the word in her mouth.  "That is so familiar."
Sam sighed, "Yes, it's that Zemo, Jess.  And I know what you're thinking-"
"You have no idea what I'm thinking." she snapped, her eyes wretching themselves away from Helmut's soft dark eyes to meet Sam's endless pools.
"Jess.."
"No, you were not there and you do not know." she said as her skin and hair began to change color as her temper rose.
It was then that Helmut recognized just exactly who she was.
"You were there." he said. "In Sokovia."
Her eyes connected with his.
"Yes, I was." she said.  "I was with the Avengers when we faced Ultron."
"You're the one that stayed." he said.
"Yes." she whispered.
"You are a hero among my people." he said. "Those of us that are left."
"I am no hero." she said turning away from him and whistling for the dogs who had chased Bucky up an old flagpole and were barking at him.
"There would be many more Sokovians dead if you had not stayed. We were not a large people to begin with and there are even fewer now.  I know several who owe you their lives." Helmut said.
"They owe me nothing." she said. "And for the record, of course, I do not support the bombing but I also understand what it is like to be ridden with grief and confusion and anger when you have lost loved ones.  Especially as someone who had lost their own children."
Helmut's eyes softened as he thought of his late wife and child and it was then that he recognized the same tendrils of heartbreak in the woman's eyes.
"For what it's worth, I destroyed my fair share of places in my grief." she said. "People will remind us of our faults as long as we live but what they say can never compare to the torture we inflict on ourselves."
Helmut said nothing, only nodded in understanding.
She turned to Sam with a sigh, "I will help you.  But I am going to kick Barnes' ass for good measure."
"You sure you wanna go toe to toe with the Winter Soldier?" he teased her.
She lifted a brow, "He is just a man.  A soldier.  Like the both of you and I can assure that I am not scared of any of you."
"Well, he's not exactly..." Helmut said.
"Yes he is.  He lives, he breathes, he bleeds." she cut him off.  "And he shot my truck and kicked me off a building.  So I atleast owe him a kick in the nuts."
Sam and Helmut dissolved into a fit of laughter as she whistled again and the pack of dogs came running before bounding into the bed of that beat up white truck.
She opened the door and slid into the driver's seat.
"Do you have a way to follow me? Other than by jet?" she asked through the open window. "Or do I need to drop the hounds off and come back?"
"It's already taken care of." Helmut said gesturing behind to the jet where Oeznik was pulling driving the car off the jet.
"Nice car." Jess said.  "I still prefer Leroy though."
"Definitely a beauty." Helmut said. "A little rough around the edges but all wild things are."
Helmut gave her a soft smile to which she returned before speeding off.
"What the fuck was that?" Sam asked.
"What was what?" Helmut asked.
"You flirtin with her?" Sam said.  "She will eat you for breakfast, man.  And then shit you out and use you to fertilize her little poison garden.  Don't go down that road."
"What road?"
Bucky had rejoined the conversation.
"Man, you run like a bitch." Sam laughed.
Bucky just stared at Sam in irritation.  
"You couldn't even fight off a pack of dogs?" Sam teased. "One of them was a Yorkie, Buck."
"First of all, I told you that you can't call me that." Bucky said.  "Second of all, if I so much as look at one of those dogs the wrong way you know she'll launch a missile at us."
Sam just snickered.
"Apparently, you have a 'kick to the nuts' coming your way." Helmut said and Bucky groaned.
"She is never going to forgive me." he said.  
"Why exactly did you shoot her property and kick her off a building?" Helmut asked as they piled into the car.
There was a brief argument about the seat being moved up before Bucky answered.
"Look, the truck was an accident." he said.  "It was just caught in the crossfire.   And I only kicked her off the building because she was nearly insane."
"Weak logic, man." Sam laughed.
"You were there, asshole!"
"You could've tackled her to the ground."
"While she was trying to choke me to death with vines?"
Sam just laughed at Bucky's predicament while Helmut continued to ponder this woman.
He remembered what little footage there was of her.
After the battle with Ultron, Sokovia had been decemated and the Avengers had left them in the rubble.
In reality, they had tried to evacuate as many as possible.
With the help of Sokovia's own, The Maximoff Twins.
But when it was all said and done, Sokovia was left in the rubble and Earth's defenders just deserted them.
All but the one.
He'd seen the footage.
Shaky cellphone videos of the woman who transformed into animals to move the debris crushing people to death.
Or of how she was in the tents with the small group of survivors using her powers with plants to heal as many as she could.
She'd even tried to plant things and bring the country back to life before the government had basically laid waste to her work.
She'd been most popularly dubbed as Mother Nature by people across the globe but she never spoke in public or confirmed her name.
Helmut got the feeling that she didn't exactly like being apart of the Avengers and certainly did not enjoy the attention that went along with it.
He knew then that it had to have been her that cleared the bodies of his father, wife and son for when he found them among the dead that had been intricately encased in vines with flowers decorating them in the most beautiful way.
When he'd asked about it, he only been told that Mother Nature had stayed to help them.
He hadn't understood that at the time.
After the loss, all he could think of was revenged as grief consumed him.
By that time, she had long since left the Avengers and wasn't on his radar.
He'd never put two and two together.
Helmut drove for the longest time, the lamborghini speeding along the road as they followed the beat up white truck.
The pack of dogs all happily placed in the back, tongues flopping in the wind and tails wagging.
The further they trekked the wilder the country became and soon the hot rays of sunshine only beamed through the thick cover of vegetation above them.
The light through the leaves creating a green glow.
"I feel like Welcome to the Jungle should be playing right about now." Sam commented.
The finally broke through the tunnel of vegetation into a large property of rolling green field smattered with wildflowers and towering trees.
Garden beds and greenhouses were in the distances and horses could be seen grazing freely as chickens clucked around them.
Helmut noted that there were no fences, no pins, no coops for the chickens but instead all he wild life seemed to roam freely.
"Just forewarning you, there's probably a bear or moose around here somewhere." Bucky said. "But don't shoot it or we're dead."
"A bear?" Helmut asked. "She keeps bears as pets?"
"Don't call the animals her pets." Sam said with a smirk, "It pisses her off and as much as I would just love to see you get shot, it's not very practical at the moment."
Eventually they came to a stop behind the truck.
The pack of dogs all bounded out and took off in the direction of several little goats who seemed more than happy to play with them.
Helmut took in the home in front of him.
It was a beautiful home.
Simple in design but stunning in the sense that it seemed to be built around a tree.
"Come inside and have some tea." Jess said. "I'm going to need some if I'm going to listen to whatever utter bullshit you've gotten yourself into this time."
"Uh uh." Sam said with a shake of his head. "That is a lion. I am not going up there."
Jess narrowed her eyes at Sam as Helmut and Bucky looked around for what he was talking about.
Sure enough on the level there was a small balcony where the railing was absolutely littered with cats and a rather large mountain lion was sitting there watching them all with it's great luminous eyes.
"She's pregnant.  Relax." Jess said ascending the steps, gently smiling at Helmut when he followed her without reservation.
"Like that's supposed to instill confidence." Sam said. "You ever been around a pregnant female? Hell no."
"I have been a pregnant female, Wilson.  And I also very clearly remember the labor pain of having twins.  So watch your mouth and come on. If she wanted to eat you she would've already done it. Though if you're so scared, just feed her Barnes.  That should tide her over for a while." she said disappearing into the house with a chuckling Helmut behind her.
"This is your fault." Sam said shoving Bucky who only shoved him back.
"Shut up, Sam." he said before they continued up the stairs with Sam moving a little quicker as the cluster of felines watched him.  
"I hate cats, man." he sad.  "Fucking creepy."
Bucky snorted.
"What?"
"Nothin."
"What?"
"Just fitting that the bird is scared of a little kitty." Bucky teased.
Sam lifted his brows, "First of all, that was not a kitten.  That was full on Lion King back there.  And second of all, have you never seen Looney Toons.  I'm not trying to be Tweety bird."
"Stop being a pussy and come on." Jess' voice rang out. "And shut the damn door. You're letting all the cool air out."
Sam and Bucky grumbled at each other before making their way into the kitchen to see Helmut sitting at the table already happily sipping a cup of tea.
"This is exquisite." Helmut complimented her. "What is it?"
"It's peach and apricot." she said pouring both Sam and Bucky a cup and leveling them both with a look that told them if they didn't drink it she'd strangle them.
"It's wonderful. Thank you." Helmut said.
"It was my daughters' favorites.   Flora loved peaches and Fauna loved apricots. So to please them both my husband used to blend them together for their little tea parties. Along with little pieces of toast and jam."
She smiled into her own cup of tea but there was a sadness there that he recognized.
He chose not to remark on it and instead studied her features as Sam relayed the information as to why they were actually there in the first place.
"I've seen the Walker guy." she said. "It's unsettling to say the least.  But you know I do the limelight, boys.  I walked away from all of that when it became obvious that-"
"Jess." Bucky said. "Please. You don't have to talk to anyone. You don't have to-"
"People died.  And not just in Sokovia.  Yes, that was the final straw for me but it was happening long before that. I understand that 'earth's greatest heroes' or whatever are there to defend everyone.  But no one ever stays around to see the carnage.   No one talks about everyone who dies in the crossfire.  I joined the avengers out of revenge.  I was fueled by my anger and pain and I went on missions.   How many have I ended up inadvertantly killing under this ruse of 'for the greater good'.  I loved Steve to death but he took that shit to his heart and forgot to use his eyes." she said. "While everyone else is busy looking at the 'bigger picture' all of these other people who perhaps you don't know the names of are dying horrible deaths, boys.   I pulled people from wreckage who had moment to live.  People who's organs were crushed into nothing and they were rushing to give me messages to pass along to their families.  Those people are the heroes and no one ever knows it."
The subject of Steve was a sensitive one for everyone but she had a point and they knew it.
She sighed as she looked down into her teacup again, "I will help you regarding John Walker.  But I'm not blindly following orders anymore.   I make my own decisions and when I'm done, I'm done and I don't want to hear anything about it when I go."
The three of them nodded even though she wasn't asking for permission.
"You want some more tea, love?" she asked Helmut who's heart fluttered a bit at the soft term of endearment.
"Please." he said watching as she methodically poured him another cup.
"I can not leave immediately." she said. "I have to take care of a few things first. But you are welcome to stay here if you wish."
"And if you're not afraid of the cat." she said, aiming it at Sam. "Tweety bird."
"I hate you." he said flatly and she only laughed.
"Her name is Cleopatra by the way. Or Cleo for short. And if you give her a can of tuna from that cabinet there then she'll be putty in your hands.  If you rub her belly then she'll love you forever." she said.  "She also seems to enjoy listening to Elvis Presley and laying in the sunlight.  If that should interest any of you."
"Thanks, Jess." Bucky said sincerely.
"You're welcome." she said. "But I still owe you a beating."
He sighed, "Fair enough."
She left the table and meandered out onto the lower porch to stay at the horizon.
Sam and Bucky said nothing as Helmut followed her out there.
"Thank you." he said as he stared off in the distance as well.
"For what?" she asked. "The tea? You're welcome, dear.  It was nothing."
"No." he said turning to look at her. "For what you did for the bodies.  My father, wife and son were among the ones you uncovered.   They told me it was Mother Nature.  I never put it together but now I see."
She said nothing.
"I did it because it was what I would've liked for my own family." she said.  "I'm just sorry I couldn't do it for everyone.  I tried but there were so many that needed healing.  I didn't have ti-"
"The people of Sokovia know that." he cut her off.  "But as a son, a husband and a father, I'm thanking you for myself and also for everyone else."
She said nothing as they stared out at the trees.
"What happened to your family?" he asked her.
He knew, from first experience, how painful it was to talk about something like but he wanted to know.
"There was a bombing." she said. "My husband and I had taken my daughters to the museum to see the dinosaur exhibit.   It was so wrapped up that day that it was nearly impossible to get food there.  So we called in some food a couple of miles away at one of the girls' favorite resteraunts.  He'd told me to go and get it and that they'd meet me by the water fountains and we'd have lunch.   I was stuck in traffic for a good hour coming back  when it hit.  They'd called in an air strike because it was confirmed that an extremely dangerous  terrorist was there.  He'd been on the run for nearly a year from a foreign government and when it was confirmed what he had on him, I guess they decided it would be better to blow everyone there off the place of the planet that risk him setting it off and possibly destroying the world.  I saw it hit, saw everything go up in flames before it the whole of everything just crashed into the ground.  Like the whole word swallowed it whole." she said, voice shaking.
Helmut watched with rapt attention as she struggled to continue.
"I just jumped out of the car immediately and took off.  Police were swarming and I got thrown this way and that but I got loose.  My family was in there.  My husband.  My children.  I dove head first into the crater not even thinking about self preservation or logic at all.  There were no survivors of course but I didn't care.   A mother can't just walk away like that.  Or atleast I couldn't.  I should've died on impact based on the fall but I didn't.  About half way down gas released and I can just remember the burning.  My skin felt like it was melting off.  I was still falling through the air and my skin was searing hot, burning every nerve ending I had.  And then I hit.   When I woke up, I wasn't there anymore but I panicked because I was covered in vines.  Wrapped up like a mummy in vegetation." she said, a dark chuckle coloring her tone.
Helmut shivered as a chill ran down his spine.
"The local authorities pulled me out when everything had been cleared and they began to sort through the wreckage.  I'd been turned over to American government when they discovered my ID in my back pocket.  They told me that it took forever for the police to get in because vines kept growing from everything I touched.  Several of them were strangled to death as I lay down there unconscious.  I was deemed dangerous and therefore put it a high security area.   I was told a version of what happened that day and propositioned to join the Avengers.  I was angry and grieving and I wanted to find out who murdered my children, my husband... so I accepted without hesistation. So when I tell you that I understand how you got to the point that you did... trust me.  I get it."
Helmut said nothing as he reached out to take her hand.
"Perhaps, you and I are not so different." he said.
"Probably a lot more similiar than you think." she chuckled.
"Though I am not a goddess." he said with a small smirk.
"I'm no goddess." she said.
"Ah no?" he asked. "Not Mother Nature then?"
"Sure you can call me mother nature...of the current year where I've been poisoned by the human race and am genuinely fed up with life in general.  Maybe Mother Nature's trailer trash cousin, Global Warming." she said and Helmut laughed at her in disbelief. "I can say trailer trash cause I am trailer trash."
Helmut shook his head in amusement.
He wasn't sure of anything in that moment but he was thankful for it and he hoped that perhaps his family was somewhere looking down on him.
He silently thanked them for allowing him to meet the one person who had stayed.
Mother Nature always found a way.
----- Hello my loves! I hope you enjoy this! This piece was commissioned by a lovely lady who chose to remain anon!  If you have a commission that you'd like done just reach out and I'll answer any questions you have!  Thank you so much for reading and I would love to hear your thoughts!
All my love, Kenny -----
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therenlover · 3 years
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that list says blurb, so here we go...
young Daniel, LIL era Daniel, playing Sky in Mamma Mia and singing Lay All Your Love On Me
((Okay I took this shit and ran in another direction with it because @creme-bruhlee loves to indulge my ridiculous ideas. Sorry lol))
How The Danny Bunch Would Do Performing "Lay All Your Love On Me" From Mamma Mia From Worst To Best
Number Seven: Laszlo Kreizler (The Alienist)
Poor Laszlo would be absolutely miserable trying to do the whole number.
Like... the whole dance includes push-ups and barrel rolls and all that crazy cardio stuff, so with his arm being the way that it is he would just have a terrible time.
More than once he'd get stuck like a turtle on his back unable to get up from both physical inability and just plain exhaustion.
He'd probably be taken out of the number at his own request about 2 weeks into rehearsals, so we'd never get to actually see him in the diving suit and flippers.
Honestly, it would be for the best though.
I can't imagine how John and Sara would react to seeing him perform.
His dignity would be safe for another day, at least for now...
Number Six: Checo (Paradise Mall)
Checo, though attractive, would not want to be there at all.
Like, he has a million better things to do with his time that don't involve humiliating costumes and hours worth of dance rehearsals every week
He probably wouldn't even show up for the actual performance.
That being said, he'd be around a little longer than Laszlo, and he would actually end up wearing the cute costume at least once, so he doesn't get put in dead last
When it comes to the actual dancing he wouldn't put in any effort
Like... he'd consistently not actually know the moves and would be several beats behind because he'd just halfheartedly follow along with what the other guys were doing.
Checo has potential, and if he actually tried he'd be higher on the list
But he refuses to try, therefore, he is at the bottom of the people actually dancing.
Number Five: Niki Lauda (Rush)
Ah, Niki. What can I even say about Niki...
He, like Checo, does not want to be involved at all.
That being said, Niki is not a quitter, so he would show up and give it his absolute all because he might hate it, but he would refuse to be anything but the best.
That being said, effort can't save everything.
I feel like it wouldn't matter how much Niki rehearsed the moves or did his best to do them right.
He would just look really, really ridiculous.
Not that he would accept that. No, no, no, he would be convinced that he was the absolute best, and when he was confronted with facts that showed him that his assumption wasn't true, he'd get really, really bitter.
In fact, he'd probably even put aside his need to be the best and team up with another dancer if he thought it would mean someone else wasn't better than he was anymore.
More on that later
Also, Niki would look like a fool in the costume.
It's flattering on a lot of people, but with his bouncy little curls it would just be a hot mess
Number Four: Ernst Schmidt (The Cloverfield Paradox)
Schmidt, like Niki, does not want to be involved and is not gifted with the talent that is being able to dance with any semblance of internalized rhythm.
He's a scientist, not a dancer, and that's for good reason.
That being said, Schmidt's attitude is really what sets him about Niki.
He might despise being involved and complain about the experience to anyone who will listen, whether they're in the cast or just strangers, but he would give it a good effort and wouldn't try to tear other people down just because he's a bad dancer.
In the end, he wouldn't do too badly, and he's on the better end of things as far as the Dannys go.
I also think that by the end of the experience, he would be secretly glad he was involved.
Even for hot-headed guys like Schmidt, it can be fun to blow off some steam and just have some stupid fun, even if you make a fool of yourself while doing it.
If any of his teammates recorded it, though, he would simply kill them, so if anyone had a tape of the performance it would have to be a big secret.
Number Three: Andrea Marowski (Ladies In Lavender)
Oh, sweet Andrea would be having the time of his life and I refuse to believe any different.
I have no doubt that he'd be the one that dragged all the other Dannys into this and they couldn't say no because lets be honest, who could risk making Andrea upset? Nobody. Not even the most heartless of bastards.
Andrea is a musician, and he's decently fit and pretty young, so he'd probably do alright with learning the actual choreography.
What he lacks in skill he'll make up for in heart.
That being said, he probably would get so caught up in the excitement of it all that he'd trip over his own feet a few times like an overexcited puppy, so he wouldn't be the very best.
Everyone would tell him he was though, and it would make his whole life.
As for the costume, we basically already saw him in something close to it when he wore the one-piece bathing suit in Ladies In Lavender, so we know he pulls it off well.
He'd look extra funny in the flippers though.
I can see him doing the goofy run with them on backstage and just grinning like a fool saying "Look! Duck feet!"
Number Two: Helmut Zemo (Falcon and the Winter Soldier)
Now, Helmut Zemo may be getting older, but I am a firm believer that he was trained in dance for at least part of his young adulthood.
That means he would pick up the choreography fast, and execute it with a dancer's precision, especially since it isn't super tough skill-wise, it just takes the ability to keep a rhythm in your body and the strength to do the cardio of it for several minutes.
Zemo can do both of those things.
That being said, he is getting older, so he would have some struggles when it came to the more strenuous moves.
The biggest setback for Zemo isn't his skill, or even looking silly in the costume (though I personally think he'd absolutely kill the look)
No, his issue would lay with his ego, because Zemo, even if he thought the whole thing was the stupidest idea he'd ever heard, would need to feel like he was the best.
Just like Niki, he'd get bitter when he realized the attention was going towards someone else.
So, inevitably, he would team up with Niki to do whatever it took to distract the audience and win back the eye of the watchers.
Nobody likes that asshole, so he doesn't to be on top; sorry Zemo.
Also, just for funsies, Bucky and Sam absolutely would come, and they absolutely would make fun of him for it forever as he defended it as an "expression of his inner youth and freedom"
And, Number One: Alex Kerner (Goodbye, Lenin!)
Now, this may come out of left field, but hear me out.
Alex is young and attractive, so he's already got that going for him.
He's also a laborer (he installs satellites) so he would probably be able to keep up with the physical aspects that would be required.
The biggest thing that would make him the most charming and adorable one up there, though, is that he would be doing it all to see little Paula smiling up at him from the audience.
So, even if he thought that whole thing was stupid, he'd put his heart into it.
That combined with his other traits would be enough to win over everybody who saw him as a shining diamond in the rough.
Also, come on, just imagine Alex in one of those wetsuits. He would be too hot for his own good.
Zemo and Niki would totally try to steal the spotlight, but Alex would just be so endearing that nobody would take the bait.
Basically, I wanna give Alex a big smooch after frothing at the mouth as I watch him do high kicks in those stupid flippers
BONUS ROUND
Young Daniel Bruhl would be the one actually playing Sky, because he's the leading man of the bunch.
He'd probably get all shy about the vocal aspect of it.
He would kill it though, no matter how humble he acted about the whole thing.
His costume would be a little different, just swim trunks and the flippers, but he would still rock it and have everybody drooling because duh.
Nobody would be paying attention to him for most of it though.
Because let's be honest, Daniel is wonderful, but the fools doing his backup dancing would be causing enough chaos that people couldn't help but be distracted.
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itszemo · 3 years
Text
(    *    & .    ---    NOT  A  GOOD  MAN .
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*   helmut  zemo  x  gn!reader . warnings  for  angst   &   character  death .   —    ‘   728 words  ’
HE  STANDS  ON  HIS  feet, though he should be on his knees. But you know, you know him and his tendencies. His pride, his grace, his poise; all things that should have saved him now are the things that will end his life.
In his mind, you have killed him over a hundred times, each time more painful than the last. His first death had been the fire in your eyes when you were dragged to you cell after a particularly bloody interrogation. You are half-dead, and you still launch yourself at his body when he appears at your cell door. You meet face to face, separated only by glass that would have shattered had it not have been reinforced. You glare at him and promise his immediate death in your sneered lips, and he laughs as though he does not feel the heel of your foot slowly pressing down on his throat.
His latest death happened only moments before the alarm sounded. You pitied him, and the fact that he could only love something if it brought him revenge. And you would have brought him just that, if your thirst for vengeance ranked over the side you’d chosen for yourself. You brought him nothing he thought he wanted, so he gave you nothing. Yet, now, he realizes that he would want nothing more than for you to be selfish.
“Please.” You speak softly. You ask though you know you can take what you please, and to that, Zemo’s lips quirk. Always so generous. Too kind for your own good.
Zemo raises his gun and shoots. He is not sure if you move in time or he purposely misses and tries not to think much of it as he feels hot, searing pain in his abdomen. He rocks on his feet and then falls and you are there. Your arms wrap around him, your body acting as his floor as he dies slowly. You should have aimed for his head. You still can, but you do not, in favor of loving him freely in his last few moments of life.
You kiss his forehead, and then his nose. You force a hold of hands, whisper your apologies against his paling skin.
Through this, he says nothing. He figures he should grace you with last words, maybe the words that you are so desperate to hear from his heart. You are telling him of how you wish it was different, and you are a spluttering mess with a red face and you should not be crying over someone who caused you violent nightmares for many nights. And yet, that is you in all your glory; too good for the world. Too kind for your own good.
He feels himself slipping away and does not protest. He has no reason to stay. You are taking all he had left after Sokovia, which you also helped destroy, he laughs to himself at the irony.
“I love you.” You finally say, and it is as glorious as it is tragic. Maybe you will tell the story to your children one day. Maybe you will paint him as a good person, maybe you will describe him as the monster under their beds.
Zemo chokes, and through that realizes that he does have the power to speak. He is fading fast, but he can leave you with what he knows in his heart to be true. Maybe you will cry for him at night. Maybe you will hold him long after he is gone. He could leave you with a comforting thought, tell you that he knows you only did it to spare him the humiliation of a public prison sentance he knew he was sure to get.
Instead, Zemo closes his eyes and dies feeling the warmth that is you on his back, and his neck, and his head and his...heart. His heart which beats for the little deaths. The little thrills that were your hateful glares, the heart that would not stop pounding in his ears when he realized he was to die by your hands. His heart that gave him the will to say all he needed to, and the one he failed when he chose to remain silent.
He is not a good person, he reminds himself before he exhales for the last time. He would fail you every time.
‘   @noavengers   ’    —   comment to be added to my taglist .
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kururu418 · 2 years
Note
Do you have any Rico fun facts?
Before Gordon joined he only showed up to games every so often since “his team sucked”. And he didn’t like losing because of dead weight.
He and Helmut don’t get along well since Helmut (who is very much starting to genuinely like volleyball) doesn’t like how he skips practice and doesn’t take things seriously.
Despite his cocky and laid back attitude he also genuinely loves volleyball. He’s been playing since he was a kid and plans on going pro.
Despite he and Chris having supposedly different views on volleyball they mostly get along off the court and often hang out with one another outside of practice.
He loves soaking in the attention at big games. Sometimes he’ll show up late just to get a reaction from the crowd. (Gordon has made his displeasure about this very much known.)
He wholeheartedly believes he’s the best and will tell anyone that without a second thought. He’s a fan of the saying “The only one who can beat me is me.” and he means it very literally.
He often flirts with Akielah, who usually just brushes it off. But sometimes she’ll manipulate him to get him to show up to practice or play as the team needs.
Though he’s a wing spiker he excels at pretty much all aspects of the game and can play any position on the fly.
He hates when someone moves to cover him because it implies he they think he isn’t going to score, which he finds insulting. Helmut does it anyway. (Mostly because it’s his job as a libero, but partly because he knows it irks him.)
He’s never been kill blocked before and doesn’t ever think he’s going to. Even if the other team keeps soft blocking him, he will demand the ball as many times it takes for him to score.
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undercoverpena · 2 years
Note
I read the post that we can send prompts soo... pouting Zemo bcs you have been ignoring him all day
honestly, anon! I'm always down for more Zemo in my life. hope this is ok? (Part of the sleepover)
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helmut zemo x reader summary: he's not sure what has stolen your attention, but he knows he doesn't like it. wordcount: 1k
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Helmut Zemo isn't sure what you’re doing, but just knows you're not doing him.
Hidden behind a door you have locked shut, a simple handwritten sign telling him to not disturb. And, even if he shouldn't be, it annoys him.
Very little gets to him after all the loss he's already experienced. But sharing you is something which rattles him. He despises it, in fact. 
He hated it from the moment he met you.
Because, even if he tried not to, he found himself vying for your attention. Trying to find innocent reasons to talk to you without James or Sam.
Not knowing or realising that you liked talking to him—just him. Having a soft spot for him, as much as he did for you. Being rewarded with a kiss for being persistent and so much more for being a gentleman.
And now he's competing with something—or someone—all over again.
This time, though, he isn't entirely sure what he's fighting against. Drained by the idea of it all again, annoyed with himself for forgetting that you'd have moved on in the short time he'd been locked back up.
Annoyed because he knows he should be grateful. Relief that it's you he's bound to, on house arrest in the confines of your home for a reason no one can adequately explain to him. But he can't complain. And shouldn't, either.
Because the moment James left him in your capable hands, he found himself with his own hands full. And they have been, from time to time, for the last two weeks.
Until today. Today, you’re hiding from him.
Locked in your office. His hand brushed over your cold sheets when he woke. Descending the stairs to find cold coffee in the pot. The wisps of your perfume in the air, but no person, not even a sound.
It wasn’t that he slept in particularly late. A trait of his time in the military and the schedule he’d been on when Carl had been young. But, as of late, you were up earlier than him. 
Something you rarely ever were before. You liked and needed lots of sleep. Became a nightmare without it. You grumbled and became irritable, half-depending on naps even if the world was on fire. He'd found it cute, even if your friends did not.
His mouth shifts as he remains lost in his mind, not recognising he was even pulling an expression until he saw you in front of him. Lifting his eyes, taking you all in.
“Are you… pouting?”
“No,” he says too firmly, too quickly. Continuing to stir his fruit tea with a spoon.
But, your arms are folding, brow arching, and he knows before it appears that you'll smirk. And you do.
He both loves and hates it equally. Because on one hand, it makes your eyes twinkle, but it also informs him he’s been caught. A smirk you first sent him when John Walker handcuffed him; a similar smirk he sent back when he broke free with ease.
"Why are you pouting?"
He shifts his face, attempting to quickly bury it.
Hating he even had been, never mind been caught.
“Ze," you continue quickly. “Don’t do the head tilt…”
He swallows. "I hadn't been about to."
He had. But, he rather hated that you knew him so well. Saw through him when he felt he'd only just begun to scratch the surface when it came to you.
The things he did know, mainly how insatiable you were, had presented themselves easily. The rest, it feels like he moves further from learning the closer he gets.
"You're a terrible liar for a criminal mastermind."
He quirks a brow.
Not that you notice, too busy moving from your position to darting around your kitchen. Likely for food since it's long past lunch.
 "So," you continue, pulling open cupboards before rustling fills the air, "Why are you pouting?"
His mouth opens, almost ready to spill his secrets. Thankfully, he refrains. Managing to catch the words before they're even said, likely looking more idiotic the longer he stands there.
So, he places his spoon in the sink, returning to lean against the counter, taking a sip, even if it burns his tongue.
And then you say his name. Not a nickname. Not Zemo, Zee or Hel. But Helmut.
In that soft but stern way, you do when you want an answer. One he's heard so often directed at others.
"You have been gone. All day, in fact."
He hears you hum. A short sound, one having brewed at the back of your throat before you close the cupboard door, holding nothing.
"And, I'm guessing that's bothered you?"
Annoyance and embarrassment descend over him.
Because he's not been this weak, this needy, in a long-time. Not required attention from anyone.
"Immensely," is how he answers.
Sighing afterwards, hoping to exhale his emotions.
It doesn't work.
It never does.
His eyes catch you nod before moving closer. Finding you leaning against the counter beside him in the corner of his eye, your hands fall to your sides. For a second, there's nothing else, and he feels irritation growing in the places his other emotions haven't touched.
And then your fingers brush over his.
"I hope... I hope that doesn't bother you," he adds, quieter than he originally intended. "I've grown used to your company, is all."
"Grown implies I've worn you down."
He snorts, placing his cup down, before turning his head to face you. "A poor choice of words on my part, Liebling."
You smile. "I know, Hel." Your fingers weaving with his. "I'm not going to apologise for leaving you to stew and pout, though."
"Truthfully, I hadn't expected you to."
You nod. "Good. Because if I'm going to continue wearing you down, I need you alive."
He raises his brow as you shake your head.
"Another time. For now, I feel I have some attention I need to give." Your body moves from beside to in front of him, fingers remaining connected as his free hand slides over your hip. "How would you like me to make it up to you?"
He considers many things.
Some involve bed sheets, and some involve staying curled against you without removing a single item. Half-torn over what to choose.
"Don't move," he says, gripping your waist a little tighter, "Not for a moment, at least."
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anadorablack · 3 years
Text
FATWS Ep. 5 Thoughts
Me having thoughts. Lots of thoughts. Spoilers below.
This episode upped the game a notch. I say it each week, and each week I mean it, but this series is such quality content I can’t express myself enough most of the time.
Okay...let’s try to be coherent.
- Sam and Bucky fighting Walker for the shield like the team they are was great but also stressful AF because Walker has proven that he’s unhinged and I honestly thought one of our boys was going to get seriously injured.
- Bucky surrendering the shield to Sam was so symbolic I...
- Joaquin Torres is the next Falcon, I don’t want to hear anything else. He’s the purest child and I want to see him with his wings next ep okay?
- I don’t feel any sort of sympathy towards Walker. Not one ounce of it. But DAMN, he’s right, the government made him this way, own it punkasses!
- (On this note, I’d like to address the fact that talent did NOT skip a generation in the Russells’ family tree. Goddamn Wyatt is talented.)
- K. Helmut. I KNEW he was going to the memorial. It was a given. I also knew that Bucky wasn’t going to shoot him because that’s not him anymore, but-
- He was CLEARLY okay with dying. Had made peace with it, just like in Civil War when T’Challa found him in Siberia. And that made me so sad I started weeping.
- (I really hope we’ve not seen the last of him. He’s such a cool character, in a way he wasn’t at all in the comics. I love my antiheroes, sorry.)
- (And Daniel will be missed. I don’t care about that ‘sugar daddy’ stuff, I’m 30 and Dan is hardly old enough to fit the description, but I’ll miss him. His voice, his fucking coat, and his stellar acting. Stan since 2009 represent. :P )
- Bucky being the one to ask the Wakandans for a new suit for Sam is so sweet, please!
- Isaiah’s speech and story made me feel so uncomfortable. As only a white woman from Europe could feel uncomfortable. The situation in the US has always made me want to vomit, because I’ve not been raised in that environment at all, but this hit super hard.
- The US being the ‘land of the free’? Ha. Ha. Ha. Has anyone of you punks actually studied your own History? Murderers, the lot of you!
- Sarah Wilson deserves everything. That’s it.
- Bucky flexing his super-strength, uh? Got a message for Sam, Bucks?
- Bucky smiling at Sarah like he used to before the War... I don’t know how to feel... She makes him feel flirtatious like his old self? A blessing for our hearts, a curse for our eyes. Fuck you Seabass.
- Our boyz repairing a boat. Like mates. *cough cough* SOULmates.
- Bucky apologizing was important. His character is evolving. May I remind you that he was born in 1917? Yeah, so, some things haven’t computed yet in that white boy’s brain, but they’re starting to, because he’s spending time with Sam and if there’s ONE person who can make you see things you never saw, it’s Sam Wilson.
- Yes, Sam is right: stop relying on somebody else to tell you who you are, Bucks. You’re you. Steve was a bitch, forget him.
- (Am I still bitter over Endgame? You got it! Have I hated Steve Rogers ever since? You betcha ass!)
- “We’re just a couple of guys” Right. Stop it. Get a room. Now.
- That training montage....... I’m not physically attracted to Anthony Mackie (despite acknowledging that he’s handsome, that’s a given) so I wasn’t thirsting and more pondering. Because it was important to see him train and become Captain America ON HIS OWN. Without Bucky’s help, or anyone’s help for that matter. He’s made himself. It was super beautiful to watch. Amazing.
- Also, can’t wait to see him in that new suit next week. I’m salivating thinking about it.
- Also, tired of hearing about that Winter Soldier guy. He’s WHITE WOLF, now, people!
- Sharon is shady. I really don’t like what they’ve done to her character, despite the obvious ‘repercussions from Civil War’. She’s Peggy’s niece, and Peggy’s niece would NEVER be this shady. Correct me if I’m wrong.
- Sam is surely becoming my second favourite Avenger, right after Wanda. His character is amazing in so many ways... <3
- Anthony Mackie is a wonderful actor. Everyone in that episode was just amazing, but he SHONE.
- Macattack and Sexy Seabass play off each other so perfectly, I’m just asking for them to end up living together and only working together because it’s just perfection.
- Anthony’s man-crush on Seabass shows, and I love it.
- I’m gonna miss Zemo. And Ayo. Because the Dora fighting the Flagsmashers would have been epic... :D
- Can’t wait for next week, and at the same time, I don’t want it to end.
- The Russos couldn’t see what wonderful actors and characters they had in front of them, but thankfully, someone else did and repaired the fuckery that these two had made with Endgame (yes, I’m talking about Sam (mostly Sam, who was flavourless before this), Bucky, Zemo, and even Sharon).
- I’m done ranting, see you on the other side!
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babssionate · 3 years
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Hiii, This ask will be all over the place so let's gooo
Pleaseee tell me why Max is always being praised for doing stupid stuff while the rest of the drivers are literally being DRAGGED.
I am Dutch and used to be a big fan of Max. How nice is it to see a Dutch driver who is just fucking good?? But soon I started to like him less and less due to his behavior. I understand that as a driver you sometimes have to deal with disappointments, but I think you should still try to keep your emotions in check! In my opinion, Max is one of the most aggressive drivers on the grid not only because of the way he drives but also his off track behavior. The sad thing is that there’s hardly anyone who says anything about it. Most Dutch fans and the Red Bull team love literally everything Max does. He hardly ever gets in trouble for berating his colleagues and causing accidents during the race. Even the FIA ​​barely punishes him while his colleagues get time penalty’s. After watching his documentary I understand why he is the way he is. The fans and his team are encouraging his behavior so I can see why he hasn't changed.
And now about Max as a teammate. I remember when Max and Daniël were teammates. I really loved them together! Daniël showed a nice side to Max, but that friendship changed when it was clear that Red Bull saw Max as their favorite. Daniel was almost literally put aside and instead of Max standing up for his teammate he just kept quiet or said; “well this is racing”.
Pierre and Max were teammates for a very short time, so I can't remember many of their moments. Then Alex came to Red Bull(poor soul). After Daniël I think Alex is a nice teammate for Max, why? He brings a nice balance because he is calm and patient. I don't think he's ever talked badly about Max in an interview or talked ridiculous, but his teammate Max took every chance he had to make fun of Alex during interviews. Alex was already having a hard time because he has little experience (I don't get to this day why they promoted Alex to Red Bull so quickly) and the team didn't help him enough. After that, he also had to deal with the media that brought him a lot of negativity and angry fans. If you notice that your teammate is having a hard time, you would help him, right? Well not if your name is Max Verstappen. He only made the journalists and fans treat Alex even worse.
I follow F1 via Ziggo Sport and they too took every opportunity to make fun of Alex and applaud Max. In their eyes, Max can't do anything wrong, everything he does is great, but when others do it, it's bad. For an example, if Alex complains about something he is called weak, but if Max does, they understand it.
Not only in the Netherlands, but also abroad, Max is hyped for everything he does and I have the feeling that they do that because he’s a white top driver. Lewis is also a top driver, but he has been criticized because some fans (and Max) think he only wins because of his car.
I don't know what needs to happen before fans around the world see that Max isn't perfect because I'm fed up with it personally.
Sorry for the nagging, but I really had to get this off my chest. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk. And loveeeee your blog and presentations (giving me George Russell vibes)
Hi Sweets! Thank you for sending in an ask and don’t worry I loved reading it! I’m just going to answer you chronologically, just so that everything will be clear and I’ll add some excerpts from your ask to make sure you know what I’m talking about! This will be a long one as well.. I just feel the need to write down as much as I can.... Let me start of with saying that everything written below is my opinion as of now and that I’m also Dutch (so we are kind of in the same boat).  Personally I think everyone who joined F1 from The Netherlands started off because a Dutch guy was doing well - we heard, we came and we fell in love with Max or the sport. Personally I’ve never been a Max fan, I have huge respect for him and his accomplishments and will applause his wins (and point out the flaws on track). My dad is a Max fan and I wanted to choose someone to support (and I chose Daniel haha).
I think it’s important to split Max in two: one half is his racing talent and the other half his personality (to make it ‘easier’). People praise Max over his racing talent, because he is aggressive and bites himself into a situation (usually coming out on top). This part I can agree with, many aggressive drivers in the past (not drivers that cause accidents or get mad, but ones that will always go for the gap and try to improve themselves) are found in history books. 
But he also has that aggressiveness off track (I’m not saying he’s aggressive, but he just says it how (he thinks) it is). You said this in your ask as well: “The sad thing is that there’s hardly anyone who says anything about it. Most Dutch fans and the Red Bull team love literally everything Max does. He hardly ever gets in trouble for berating his colleagues and causing accidents during the race.” And I completely agree. Here in The Netherlands Max gets away with every single thing. He crashes into a wall in Hungary - people put the blame on the wet track (not on the fact he was really going over the limit). I can wrap my head around the fact that nationality plays a huge role. We love a Dutchie succeeding. The French love when French drivers succeed, Spain goes mad when a Spanish driver wins and Italian fans just live and breath Ferrari. Do I agree with praising him for everything? No absolutely not, he may be the Dutch Golden Boy but he doesn’t deserve to be put on a pettlestdal. 
With Red Bull, that’s another story for me. In the documentary you can see where his story with Red Bull began and how badly Helmut wanted Max to be his driver. Max is their fighter, their chance of another title after they lost Seb and Max is their media hero. Max brings money because our orange country breathes up every thing he puts out. Look at the huuuge orange grandstands and the merch that is being bought. Red Bull has always been a team favouring their most succesful driver. In 2010 till 2013 that was Seb, 2014 till 2016 it was Daniel and ever since 2016 it has been Max. And there is a trend to spot here: it’s always the one getting points (getting money) for Red Bull. I’ve said that I’m a Danny girl and I was just that in 2017 & 2018. Daniel was my hero, the guy I rooted for (I still root for him every single race don’t get me wrong) but the rest of The Netherlands were rooting a thousand times harder for Max. When Daniel’s car became worse and worse with every single race (end of 2017 and the whole of 2018) it was clear to me: RBR was favouring Max, otherwise Daniel wouldn’t have left. You could see it on Daniel’s face when he had another DNF, the inner turmoil of constantly begging for praise but someone else getting it was killing him. RBR is toxic and you said it well when you talked about Pierre and Alex. They were ‘upgraded’ too fast, couldn’t keep their head above water in a team that was ruled by Max - can you blame them? Both of them are incredible drivers, but somehow all their talent disappeared in RBR? That’s weird. Pierre is back at Alpha Tauri, in a good and comfortable (non-toxic) environment and he thrives, but he loses all of that talent as soon as he gets in an RBR car. (insert sarcastic voice) bUt ThAt’S oBvIoUsLy BeCaUsE mAx Is JuSt BeTtEr. 
I noticed something you said about Alex: “After that, he also had to deal with the media that brought him a lot of negativity and angry fans. If you notice that your teammate is having a hard time, you would help him, right? Well not if your name is Max Verstappen. He only made the journalists and fans treat Alex even worse.” and that makes me reach my next point Ziggo. I remember this one interview Max did with them where he blatantly said: “Well Alex is just not performing well enough.” and this was right after the weekend Max himself had a DNF. Alex was pushed and stabbed from every direction, he was insecure of his seat and that made him loose his cool in the car. That is 100% acceptable, but Ziggo and the rest of the media don’t believe in that. 
Speaking of Ziggo, I think you said it best: “I follow F1 via Ziggo Sport and they too took every opportunity to make fun of Alex and applaud Max. In their eyes, Max can't do anything wrong, everything he does is great, but when others do it, it's bad. For an example, if Alex complains about something he is called weak, but if Max does, they understand it.” I think Ziggo adds fuel to an unnecessary fire and I think we both know the two people who just love to do that. It’s licking Max his ass but forgetting all about the full picture. I was disgusted with the way Ziggo spoke about Daniel, Pierre, Alex and all the opponents Max has. And you know what the worst thing is? THEY KNOW THEY DO IT! They know people on Twitter will get mad if they only praise Max, but they do it anyway - they don’t care. 
If we look outside of our orange tinted country (that Max doesn’t care about and rarely visits) and to the rest of the world.. I think that Max gets praised because he brings excitement to a very dominated season. Lewis for me is the king of motorsport right now and he deserves all the recognition, but we can’t deny that it’s a bit boring seeing the same guy win constantly (I love Lew, but it’s the truth). And the funny thing is that you will have that with every consecutive championship winner. Sebastian was the most hated guy in the paddock and in the media when he won his 4 consecutive championships. Lewis even called those seasons boring. Now you have the same thing. Max is the only driver who AT THE MOMENT can come close to the Mercs and get a win or two. Max brings a fight, when the season becomes boring - and people are only rooting because of that. 
To kind of answer your question at the beginning of your post: “Pleaseee tell me why Max is always being praised for doing stupid stuff while the rest of the drivers are literally being DRAGGED.” and your ending statement: “I don't know what needs to happen before fans around the world see that Max isn't perfect because I'm fed up with it personally.” There is only one thing that comes to mind and I’m gonna split it into Max’ two halves (that I spoke about earlier). 
1. His driving talent - People praise Max for doing stupid stuff on track because he brings excitement and a challenge to Lewis. Which is fair, he makes races exciting and he has a huge amount of talent. Does this mean he can’t be held responsible or people will never see his imperfections? I think he was held accountable back in 2018 when he crashed a couple weeks in a row. The media was done with him and that Canada press conference still gives me chills. But on the other hand people will always label his aggressive passes or controversial moves as ‘exciting’ or ‘a sight for sore eyes’. On his driving talent I think something will only change when he loses out on the championship that he was set to win. Just imagine he misses it out to Charles (in a couple years), that’s when RBR, the fans and the media will stop praising him. But for now, that’s something we have to deal with. And I can kind of be okay with that.
2. His personality - Max his personality came from all the shit that happend with his father. I’m not going into that but I have to be honest. Dutch fans & Ziggo love his father, because he raised this Golden Boy. But I do feel like there is something that can happen to stop the praise: holding him accountable for his words. If a lot of F1 fans speak up when he does or says something unacceptable, the media outside of The Netherlands could possibly see it. Will it change much? No, because I think Max is the kind of guy that doesn’t care what the internet says about him. But it’s a 100% worth to speak up about.
It’s difficult to change the view people have and of course everyone is allowed to have their own opinion on a driver. So we can only speak up, because speaking up is necessary. As long as we explain with the uttermost amount of respect why we think the situation is unacceptable, we could open up some eyes. I’m not sure if I answered your question, but I tried my very best to give my view on the situation - in the hopes that you and anyone else reading this gets something out of it. You’re an Anon and I have no idea which blog this comes from, but if you want to chat further and you’re comfortable doing it off Anon, please send me a message! But you’re obviously welcome as an Anon too, because you made my night :) 
Also thank you soo much for saying that you love my blog and the presentations. Reading that you said I remind you of George is such a surreal but fun comment to get! 
Anyone else - if you have something to add, please do so! I would love to hear your views. 
Lots of love, Babette 🧡✨
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bestie-enthusiast · 3 years
Text
Chapter 4: Awkward Conversation and Lawyers
Hello!! This is the fourth chapter of my PTA! Dad! Zemo fic. This is the sixth installment of 11, and the previous chapters can be found under the hashtag pta dad zemo.
Fic Summary: After the untimely death of both his wife and father due to a bombing, Baron Helmut Zemo takes his son and immigrates to America. He does not expect to find a family nor a romantic partner, and he especially does not expect to find the ability to heal. To grieve.
And yet, here we are.
This is a story about connections, growing, healing and mourning the past while still appreciating the future and all it has to offer.
Chapter WC: 2040
Fic under cut!! Hope you enjoy!!
One Month Later
Zemo walked next to Sarah, chatting about nothing in particular. He had nothing to do today and was accompanying Sarah to her restaurant. He had been a few times before, but each time made an excuse to leave when the compassion and empathy Sarah clearly had became too much. He was always worried that he might become too attached to Sarah, start viewing her like the sister she practically was to him, that he would lose sight of the only thing that mattered, that being Carl.
But today the grief was especially strong, and he was not about to talk about mindless things with Oeznik. His butler was an old friend, but he was required to listen to Zemo and do what he says, Sarah wasn’t. It was comforting to have someone to call him out. He knew Sarah wanted to ask, but she was kind in the way she never pressed. Not on this, at least.
“Look, you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but something clearly is, and I’m here if you need me okay?” Sarah suddenly said, and Zemo blinked at her.
“Thank you.” He replied thickly, and quickly cleared his throat. He briefly considered talking to Sarah about his wife, but he still was not yet prepared for that conversation. He blinked harshly when his eyes threatened to fill with tears and instead told Sarah about his most recent conversation with James.
“He’s so perfect,” Zemo waxed, biting back a grin at the way Sarah lit up. She loved teasing him over his cru- er liking of Carl’s teacher. “I mean honestly, have you seen him?”
Sarah laughed, and they both walked into the restaurant. Sarah was rushed off by an employee, and Zemo took his usual seat. He ordered a glass of water and handed a 100 dollar bill to the employee, telling her to keep it. She muttered something about rich people, and he felt his smile flicker, but kept it up regardless.
He reminded himself that some people didn’t like randomly being paid by rich assholes. He was an acquired taste. She returned with his glass of water, giving it to him and leaving without saying anything. As soon as she was out of sight, he let his smile drop. He briefly debated texting Dr. Raynor, but decided against it. They had only one session and a brief phone call to talk about session frequency and dates. He had an appointment tomorrow, he could manage until then.
Despite the fact that he thought he could manage, he texted Oeznik to pick up Carl from school, instead of him. As he was texting, someone came into the restaurant, and Zemo shrunk in on himself when he noticed it was Sam. The man had a clear distaste for him, and Zemo tried to avoid him whenever possible. Oeznik texted him an affirmative, and Zemo put his phone away. He purposefully made himself smaller in hopes that Sam would not spot him, but unfortunately he was rather unsuccessful. Sam had surveyed the room and spotted him in his semi-hidden corner table. Sam made his way towards him, and Zemo summoned all of his energy into looking like a baron, like he was supposed to. “Zemo. What are you doing here?” Sam asked, glaring daggers at him. Zemo wilted a little under the forceful glare. The harsh tone of voice made his already weak defences waver, and his smile tightened.
“I enjoy the atmosphere.” Zemo responded with a smirk, and Sam’s glare turned all the more powerful. It was the truth though, so he was at a bit of a loss as to what to say. Clearly Sam would dislike any answer he gave, so it didn’t particularly matter what he said.
“Really? A rich jerk like you?” Sam questioned incredulously, eyes sharp and words sharper. Zemo struggled to keep his composure. Normally he would be able to keep up with insults and banter of his own, but today he was consumed by thoughts of his wife. He had also been thinking about his father, which was a pain he had not even started to process. He was not having a good day, and was constantly a minute away from just breaking down. Sam’s harshness was making that go from a minute to seconds.
Zemo swallowed thickly, trying to come up with a response, but he did not trust himself not to start sobbing if he opened his mouth, so he settled for just nodding instead. Sam glared at him suspiciously, and took the seat across from him. Inside, Zemo was already breaking down, everything was on fire. But on the outside? He gave Sam a polite smile and held out his hand for a shake. Sam ignored him and pulled out his phone, so Zemo awkwardly retracted his hand and pulled out his phone too. They sat in silence, Sam playing some kind of mobile game and Zemo simply swiping back and forth on his phone screen to look busy.
After about ten minutes Zemo broke their stifling silence.
“So…” Zemo began, tucking his phone back into his pants pocket. “How are AJ and Cass doing?” Sam continued to silently glare at him, seemingly analyzing every movement that he made. Zemo swallowed and rubbed his hands together nervously.
“Fine.” Sam finally responded sharply. “How’s-” Sam paused, searching for the name.
“Carl.” Zemo supplied helpfully. “He is well.”
“Right. Yeah.” Sam said, looking as awkward as Zemo felt. Zemo gave him a tentative smile, which he didn’t return, in fact, he actively scowled at him, so Zemo schooled his face back into something more neutral.
And then Zemo’s phone rang. He pulled it out and immediately felt a severe amount of anxiety when he noticed it was from the school.
“Helmut Zemo, how can I help you?” He answered, shoving all his panic to the back of his mind. Ensuring Carl was safe was his first priority, he could panic later.
“Hello, Mr. Zemo. I am calling to inform you that Carl got into a fight during recess today. We believe that his arm may be broken. If you could come pick him up and take him to the emergency room that’d be great, thanks.” “Mein gott,” Zemo muttered to himself, “Yes of course. I’m on my way, I should arrive shortly.” He quickly hung up the phone and threw his coat on. He ignored Sam’s question of what's up and ran out the door. As he made the trek back towards the school, he called Oeznik. He told him to bring their most comfortable car that looked like it belonged to rich people. The stupid American supervisors let his child get hurt, he was not afraid to show off the power and wealth that he had. Oeznik pulled up to the school with the car just as he arrived, and he nodded to his butler to let him know to follow him in. They were both buzzed into the school with ease, and Zemo (gracefully, he was a baron not a barbarian) stormed into the office. The secretary directed him into the principal's office, and he thanked her with a quick nod.
Oeznik opened the door for him and closed it with both of them inside. Oeznik stood in the doorway, watching over everything carefully. He would not hesitate to act if any more harm befell either of his young masters.
“Ms. Carter, always a pleasure.” Zemo said to the principal agreeably, holding out his hand for a shake. Sharon shook it once and they both released. Zemo knew of her connections to the underworld and she knew of his, so they had a mutual agreement to not bother the other one while they were living out their normal, everyday lives.
“Baron Zemo.” Sharon greeted. After he turned away from her, he took in the other members of the room. Carol was seated in one of the two chairs in front of Sharon’s desk, and her son, along with Carl, were in two other chairs near the back of her office. Zemo made his way over to Carl, carefully assessing the arm he was cradling close to his chest.
It was most definitely broken.
“Oeznik,” Zemo commanded loudly, “Take Carl to the hospital. Get him seen as soon as possible, his arm is clearly broken. Inform him that I will make my way as soon as possible.” Oeznik rushed over, gently leading Carl outside of the office, although Zemo gave him a hug and a quick kiss on the forehead before they left.
As soon as Carl was gone, he changed from a loving father figure to a pissed off, rich, european who could end your life in one word. He took the seat next to Carol and ignored her attempts to talk to him, instead he spoke directly to Sharon. “Would you mind explaining to me what happened, Ms. Carter? I would hate for any inaccuracies in the story to result in a lawsuit.” He said nonchalantly, inspecting his nails. Sharon smirked at him, and began to explain. “From what I could gather from the children, supervisors-” Sharon began, only to be cut off by Carol. “They're all lying! My darling Hunter would never dare do such a thing!” Carol huffed.
“-and security footage.” Sharon finished dryly, and Zemo delighted in the way Carol’s face turned white and dropped. His smirk grew as he watched Carol mentally panic. “Hunter started to insult Carl, who was making his way into the school in order to use the washroom. When Carl ignored him, Hunter used physical force to get his attention, and pushed Carl onto the ground, resulting in his broken arm.” “Well,” Zemo said with a smirk, “I believe we can all agree that the young Mr. West is at fault here. I will not press charges, but I think that Carol should temporarily have her position on the PTA revoked, considering that this was an act of poor parenting on her part.” Sharon’s responding grin was very much similar to a sharks, and Zemo made a mental note to go to her next party and purchase some art work. She was being remarkably helpful in dealing with Carol’s actions.
“Of course. You are free to go, Baron Zemo, and I’ll talk with Mrs. West on the matter of punishments.” Sharon responded, standing up to shake his hand. When she did, he quietly whispered for her to contact him with the details of her next gathering. She gave him a nod and they parted. He left her office with a wink, gave another nod to the secretary on the way out of the conference room, and promptly ran directly into James while exiting it.
"Говно!” He cursed in surprise as he tripped over James’ feet and started to fall. He was prepared for a harsh impact, only to have a hand wrap around his waist instead. James had caught him, and was also laughing. Zemo soaked in the noise, pushing away the normal guilt and shame he felt over enjoying James’ presence.
“I didn’t know you knew Russian.” James said, still laughing slightly as he helped Zemo right himself. Zemo flushed, knowing that his curse had been understood.
“The sentiment is shared,” He said, embarrassment coursing through him. “My apologies, I really do hate to cut our conversation short, but, as I am sure you are aware, Carl has been injured.” James nodded and they parted ways, him back to his classroom and Zemo calling an Uber to come drive him to the hospital as he exited the school.
He paid the driver extra to keep his mouth shut, and enjoyed the silent ride. He collected all his thoughts and pushed everything not important to the side. His only focus will be Carl, and that was it.
Once he arrived at the hospital he headed into the ER and texted Oeznik, who told him where he was with Carl. Zemo rushed over, not running, but walking as fast as he could that was still socially acceptable. Carl appeared to be relatively happy, and Zemo felt his heart and head finally start to slow.
Carl was safe. And that was all that mattered.
Tagging: @morganbritton132 (Who came up with this AU) and @i-ll-be-the-moon (Who is a super suporitive friend!!)
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My Opinion
(This is going to be long...sorry!)
I never really give my opinion on things like this but after everything that as happened and after I’ve had time to process everything, I wanted to share how I feel about it
I have only been really watching F1 for the past year or so (mainly down to having nothing to do during lockdown) but I had seen it on TV many times growing up due to both my nan and my dad being big fans of the sport. My dad is a big Lewis Hamilton fan whereas my nan can’t really stand the guy.
If I’m being honest, I’m more of a Max fan as he was the first driver I took an interest in when I started watching it.
But that aside, let me give my opinion on what happened on Sunday and what has followed.
Firstly, I’m really glad that Max is okay. I was watching the race live when it happened and I can’t lie, I was in tears at the site of the crash. I have never been so worried in my life and when I saw him get out of the car, I was so relieved to see that he looked somewhat okay and later when I saw his posts on social media, I was feeling better but after reading them, I have my own opinion about it
I’m not going to go into detail about who I think was at fault for the crash but from what I’ve seen and having looked into what other people have said, I think Lewis is more at fault for the crash. That’s my opinion on it and others may have a differing opinion and that’s alright, everyone’s allowed to have them.
As for that Instagram/Twitter post (we all know the one I’m on about), I somewhat agree with him but I also disagree with him. I somewhat agree with the fact that the move may have been dangerous, I don’t believe Lewis did it on purpose or anything like has been said, but the move was a bit odd to me if I’m being honest. I believe if Hamilton hadn’t had understeer and hadn’t been affected by the dirty air, he would have made the apex and maybe the move would have been done.
As for the penalty, I believe that the penalty was correct but I feel like it should have been a little harsher. The penalties are inconsistent and I feel like this needs to be fixed as if we go back to Austria, Perez basically had a 10 second penalty for forcing Leclerc of the track a couple times and for Lewis to get the exact same penalty for causing a collision at high speed, I don’t agree with it as causing a collision is a lot more dangerous than forcing a driver of the track. I feel like what the stewards should do is use the 5-10 second penalty for something minor like track limits, forcing another driver off the track, crossing the line at pit entry etc. but use the more severe penalties for things like collisions as a crash is more severe and more dangerous that going over track limits. And don’t even get me started on the penalty points...
As for the part saying Hamilton was unsportsmanlike and disrespectful for celebrating his win while he was still in hospital, I don’t really agree with that and I think that it may have been a big misunderstanding. Lewis didn’t know that max was in hospital until it was mentioned in an interview and I have a feeling that Max didn’t know that Lewis hadn’t been told yet. I feel like there were things that both sides could have done better, Mercedes could have had someone tell Lewis before the podium that Max had gone to the hospital, it was common knowledge at that point (I think?) or Lewis could have asked the team how Max was doing after going to the medical centre whereas Red Bull could have told Max that Lewis hadn’t been told yet or make him wait until the interviews are over to post what he did.
I get that Max was probably mad, I was for a short while, but I think he should have waited to post what he did and maybe edit it a little to not make it sound like it did. I just hope that maybe sometime they can clear the air between them after this...
As for what Christian Horner and Dr Marko said, I do NOT agree with them in the slightest. I find some of what they said to be abhorrent. I haven’t seen everything but from what I’ve seen/heard, I don’t think I want to if I’m being honest. I’ve never liked either of them, especially Dr Helmut Marko, and now I have a bigger reason to hate them more than I already do
As for everything else, I find it absolutely appalling seeing all the racial abuse that Lewis is getting at the moment. I know that some of it is probably from Max fans and I hate that some people think that it’s all of us that is sending this abuse to Lewis when it’s not. Just because some of Max’s fans are doing it doesn’t mean we all are! 
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the biggest fan of Lewis’s but I would NEVER send him messages like some of the ones I have see on social media. I just find it abhorrent that some people feel like they should because he deserves it, when he doesn’t! He’s a human just like the rest of us and just because he is slightly different doesn’t mean you can treat him like he’s not.
As someone who has been bullied in the past for the way I am, it’s horrible to see these messages that Lewis is getting and I admire him for the what he does and how he can cope with it so well, not letting any of the messages get to him and continuing to grow and get stronger.
Anyway, this became a bit of a rant and I hope you managed to get through all of it. Thank you for reading and remember, we can all have our own opinion on things...
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johannesviii · 4 years
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Top 10 Personal Favorite Hit Songs from 2009
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20 to 21 years old. And so the 2000s end, not with a whimper, but with an explosion of upbeat, great pop songs.
Only one third of these lists left to make!
Disclaimers:
Keep in mind I’m using both the year-end top 100 lists from the US and from France while making these top 10 things. There’s songs in English that charted in my country way higher than they did in their home countries, or even earlier or later, so that might get surprising at times.
Of course there will be stuff in French. We suck. I know. It’s my list. Deal with it.
My musical tastes have always been terrible and I’m not a critic, just a listener and an idiot.
I have sound to color synesthesia which justifies nothing but might explain why I have trouble describing some songs in other terms than visual ones.
First to second and final year of my Master degree in Contemporary History. Also got two summer jobs that year. I was basically only researching and writing my master thesis at this point and trying to survive on a 50€ per month budget to pay for transport, clothes, driving lessons, and food apart from one meal a day. Needless to say, some corners had to be cut and my health wasn’t the best. I was also trying to register to pass some concours d’Etat to be a government worker considering there was 0% chance I’d be able to find a job otherwise with my qualifications and my mother had been trying to find an excuse to throw me out for more than four years at this point. Basically I was broke, stressed out and in panic mode.
Thank god, the music was mostly energetic and upbeat on the radio. I can’t imagine what my mood would have been like if the charts had been as horribly depressed as in 2018 or 2019.
This was also the year when my favorite music reviewer ever, Todd In The Shadows, started to make his first videos, so you might think his lists are going to influence mine, but as it turns out we have very, very different tastes for the most part (I mean come on, the guy hates Depeche Mode), so... not so much. But he helped me discover a lot of songs I would have ignored otherwise, so yeah, godspeed, Todd.
It should be mentioned that the two songs that I wanted to put at the top of this list before looking at the actual year-end lists turned out to be non-elligible and that is extremely frustrating. Obviously, as I mentioned in the previous post, there’s Life In Technicolor II by Coldplay, which has an incredibly fitting name since it’s one of their most colorful songs ever. But I’m not even sure I would have put it at #1 since this was the year of Mika’s second album, and oh my god, We Are Golden was FANTASTIC. It’s my absolute favorite song from the guy, the music video is incredibly fun, and I listened to that shit on a loop as soon as it dropped.
I usually don’t put such large links for non-elligible songs but the fact this isn’t elligible is nothing short of criminal. Check it out if you’ve never heard it.
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As for albums from bands I liked... eh. Lacuna Coil dropped Shallow Life, which was not as good as KarmaCode, Pet Shop Boys dropped Yes which wasn’t nearly as good as Fundamental, Depeche Mode dropped Sounds of the Universe which was DEFINITELY not as good as Playing the Angel (I liked Wrong, though. But it’s not elligible), Eminem released Relapse which was joyless and pretty bad and he was kinda dead to me at that point (even if it wasn’t as terrible as Encore AND he had that song with Drake that was very good), Placebo released Battle for the Sun which was pretty great but still not as good as their previous two albums, Paradise Lost had Faith Divides Us Faith Unites Us and basically same thing there, and Indochine had La République des Météors which is imho their worst record in the past twenty years, by far.
Long story short, every single one of the bands and artists I loved who released an album that year let me down (except Placebo, maybe).
And then VNV Nation released Of Faith, Power And Glory, I listened to it, and suddenly I had a new favorite band, and everything was good and beautiful in the world again. Album of the year for me, hands down.
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With that out of the way, a few honorable mentio-HOLY SHIT HOW MANY OF THESE ARE THERE, WTF
Replay (Iyaz) - A perfectly good and innocent little earworm.
Run This Town (Rihanna) - I don’t like the original very much (Kanye’s verse is atrocious) but I've had a mashup of it with Bach’s Tocatta & Fugue in D minor (yes you read that right) on my mp3 player for years now, so this has to count. The mashup is called Run This Town In D Minor. It’s one of my favorite mashups ever. I even made fanart of it once! Look it up if you can, the original video has apparently disappeared.
Circus (Britney Spears) - You know it’s a good year for pop when even Britney Spears makes music I like.
Magnificent (U2) - Wait, even U2 was making decent music? I had zero use for them since at that point Linkin Park had more or less taken over their ecological-musical niche of “mainstream epic-sounding pop-rock music with tortured vocals and Emotions(tm)” but that one was still kinda nice.
Même Pas Fatigué (Magic System & Khaled) - I’ve said that before and I’ll say it again but they always bring a smile to my face and I don’t get why it’s ‘cool’ to hate their songs in my country. Yeah, they often sound the same, but I’d listen to ten similar-sounding Magic System songs in a heartbeat whereas you’d have to pay me to listen to ten similar-sounding Nickelback songs.
Day n Nite (Kid Cudi) - This had a tendency to get stuck in my head, but not at all in an unpleasant way.
21 Guns (Green Day) - Much better than I remembered.
When Love Takes Over (David Guetta), Stereo Love (Edward Maya ft Vika Jigulina), Evacuate the Dancefloor (Cascada) - That year was full of catchy, stupid, energetic songs, wasn’t it?
Greenlight (John Legend) - If I had better taste, this would be on the list. Alas, you’re reading the top 10s of someone who once put Blue (Eiffel 65) in a #1 spot, so yeah.
In Your Hands (Charlie Winston) - Same thing, basically.
Like a Hobo (Charlie Winston) - “Like a hobo from a broken home, nothing’s gonna stop me”, said this very useful song. Now is a good time to remind you that my nickname at the public university was The Hobo. So yeah. I liked this song a lot and I still do.
Forever (Drake) - Drake and Eminem are both amazing on this track. Unfortunately there’s also Kanye West and Lil Wayne on it. But. Like. “I'm Hannibal Lecter so just in case you're thinking of saving face / You ain't gonna have no face to save”. Dude. Duuuuuude.
You Found Me & Never Say Never (The Fray) - Did I mention I really, really liked this band. I think I did. Several times.
Paparazzi & Love Game (Lady Gaga) - Would both have had a chance to land on the list without the incredible amount of great, catchy tunes that year had to offer.
C’est Dans l’Air (Mylène Farmer) - Mylène Farmer had THREE singles on the French year-end list and this is the ONLY one I like. Good electro, mediocre verses but a great chorus (and a weird and kind of hilarious music video). Basically a song saying we’re all going to die and she can only sing about it. It’s strange, it’s a bit dark in a fun way, but it’s sadly not enough to land on the list, and it was the last cut from it.
Phew. Making this list was like a Hunger Games of catchy, upbeat, stupid songs to find which one was the best. It’s not #1 but I’m still shocked I had to put it so high.
But first, the runner ups.
10 - Fire Burning (Sean Kingston)
US: #33 / FR: Not on the list
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Yes, ALL these honorable mentions were kicked out to give the last spot on the list to this guy and a chorus that goes “somebody call 911, shawty fire burning on the dance floor, WOAH!”.
The fact that I don’t feel bad about it means this was the right pick for that spot.
9 - Rain (Mika)
US: Not on the list / FR: #22
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Anybody else thinks Mika looks like the Fourth Doctor on this screenshot from the music video or is it just me?
Anyway. So yeah, as I said, We Are Golden would have topped this list if it had been elligible. Sadly, it isn’t, but Rain is. I don’t like it nearly as much as We Are Golden, but what can I say. It’s still Mika. I’ll take whatever I can.
8 - I Gotta Feeling (Black Eyed Peas)
US: #4 / FR: #17
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I lost about 80% of the respect I had for this song the day I realised its untouchable, marvellous beat was very probably stolen from Take a Dive. I still love it though. Had a few actual parties in 2010 and early 2011 and this was garanteed to make everyone dance, even people like me who don’t know how to dance.
And then the dancefloor died instantly anytime anyone tried to put Boom Boom Pow on because it’s impossible to dance on that one. But that’s another story.
7 - Poker Face (Lady Gaga)
US: #2 / FR: #5
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Needless to say this was absolutely everywhere and overplayed to death and beyond, and the fact I still wanted to listen to it and put it on my playlists really tells you how good I thought it was (and still is).
6 - Ça m’énerve (Helmut Fritz)
US: Not on the list / FR: #1 (...yes.)
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This is a novelty song with a singer pretending to have a thick German accent, complaining about various things in France, like the fact he doesn’t fit the dress code for a club, that he wanted to buy a sweater with “Rock” written on it but it’s out of stock, that some girls can fit in a size 34 blue jean and not him, that there’s a queue of people trying to buy macarons at the Ladurée shop, and so on. And every time he concludes “that gets on my nerves”, said in a very flat tone. Here’s a translation.
It was overplayed as f█ck here. Think Despacito levels of overplay. But the beat is great and it’s still hysterical after having heard it about a hundred times that year.
Fun fact, while I was making this list and relistening to this song, my s.o said “haha that sounds great! What is it?” and I stared at him in disbelief. Somehow, he was completely serious. That’s like someone escaping the Great Macarena Onslaught Of 1996. What happened. How.
5 - Waking Up In Vegas (Katy Perry)
US: #36 / FR: Not on the list
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Again, I must remind you that my s.o is a Katy Perry fan and that I’ve heard this song even more than the average radio listener did at the time, and it’s STILL #5 on this list. What can I say. It’s a ton of fun and one of my favorite songs from her.
4 - New Divide (Linkin Park)
US: #61 / FR: Not on the list
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Is this their best song? Not by a f█cking mile. I thought it would be much lower when I started to make this specific list, but what can I say. Linkin Park is like that one old friend that you kept no contact with for years, and once you meet them again, it’s like they never left. Who cares if that wasn’t nearly as good as Numb or In the End? Not me, that’s for sure.
Also, “In every loss in every lie / In every truth that you deny / And each regret and each goodbye / Was a mistake too great to hide / And your voice was all I heard / That I get what I deserve”. Holy shit, dude.
3 - Good Girls Go Bad (Cobra Starship)
US: #43 / FR: Not on the list
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BEHOLD. THE ONLY SURVIVOR OF THE 2009 ‘CATCHY UPBEAT STUPID SONGS’ HUNGER GAMES. THE CATCHIEST, UPBEAT-IEST, STUPIDEST OF THEM ALL. HERE IT IS AT LAST.
The thing I love about this is that it’s a song made by nerds for nerds and that the singer looks and sounds completely non-threatening. As Todd said in his own list back in the day, “that guy couldn’t make good MILK go bad” and that’s what’s so endearing about the song, I think.
Also yes, this is, in fact, placed above Linkin Park.
2 - Use Somebody (Kings of Leon)
US: #14 / FR: Not on the list
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This was my #1 at first. I LOVED it. I even bought the album, even though, as you know, my funds were very low that year. That music is soaring. It’s majestic. Well, the lyrics aren’t that majestic and soaring, it’s about loving someone and trying to catch their attention, but the rest? Damn this is intense. It was also elligible for the 2010 list, by the way, where I ALSO wondered if it should be #1, but in both cases, it wasn’t meant to be.
And so this list of 2009 hit songs comes to a close.
It began with the forging of the Great 2009 Upbeat Songs. Three were given to the Punk Rock hits. Seven to the Dance Tracks. And nine, nine songs were gifted to the Radio Friendly Pop Songs, which above all else desired power.
But they were all deceived, for another song was made. Deep in the forgotten land of Synth Pop, in his Parents’ Basement, the Dark Lord Adam Young forged a master song, and into this song he poured his joy, his talent and his will to dominate all charts.
One song to rule them all.
1 - Fireflies (Owl City)
US: #60 / FR: Not on the list (76 the next year)
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I know. It’s a meme nowadays. But still. Have you any idea how satisfying a song with an initial beat that looks like small pulsing yellow and blue lights in the dark ACTUALLY titled “Fireflies” is? How gentle it all sounds and looks, even when the music soars? The number of drawings and paintings I made just based on the colors of THAT song? It’s like a synth pop version of one of my favorite Mike Oldfield tunes ever, Weightless.
And then, on top of all the rest, how relatable was that guy’s body language and general attitude?? Before even knowing he was on the spectrum I was like “oh BIG mood.”
Also following his twitter was one of the best decisions I ever made.
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So yeah. I would have loved to put Coldplay or Mika in that #1 spot, but I’m not too mad about it thanks to this wonderful little song and its author. Such a shame Deer in the Headlights and Alligator Sky aren’t elligible for the 2011 list.
Next up: Johannes finally moves out and finds a great job and starts living a little, plus here’s a #1 that will be difficult to justify
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