#daniel bruhl x reader
If I can gather my scheisse within the next hour I'll post my zemo sequel
3 notes · View notes
This might be SO random, but hear me out. I'm house sitting for my cousin and it's this sort of sketchy apartment complex and I just walked her dog (a chihuahua) in the dark and these guys walked by and I felt ~uncomfy~ so now I'm back up and feel paranoid because I'm hearing noises/making up scenarios and checking every closet/locking all the doors etc etc (because now I'm spiraling into ghost/supernatural territory) (1/2)
pt. 2 [cont] “So I was wondering if you could do a zemo thing where reader gets spooked in the middle of the night and he sleepy goes and checks the house/under the bed/the closet and then comforts them and promises to protect them (I know cheesy, but folks it's a spooky one out there)(ps I'm asking a whole bunch of people I followed because I am SpoOked rn and want all the comfort I can get) (2/2).”
helmut zemo mini fic
a loud crash echoes through the empty hallway as you instinctively switch on the light in the bedroom, almost shrieking as the light envelops the room. peeking through the doorway, you find yourself absolutely alone, wondering what happened. your mind raced with the thoughts of what could have happened, who, if anyone was out there, and the worries started to set in.
after tip toeing out to the master bedroom, you grabbed the nearest item you could, a special edition of a novel helmut had bought you for your birthday. you tightened your robe, clinging it close to you as you gripped the book, preparing to step outside of the bedroom. after taking a deep sigh, you ran out into the hallway, darting towards where the sound had echoed. “whoever you are, get out of my home! i have a gun, and i know how to use it!” you shouted, peeking through your closed eyes out of fear to see the lights on in the kitchen, grocery bags, and a bouquet of flowers. your mind began to wonder, if someone were to break in.. why would they treat you first. a fit of giggles emerged from the kitchen, and footprints followed after as helmut stood in the kitchen, tightening the apron around his waist. “you have a gun? are you hiding things from me?” he laughed, walking towards to pull you into the light. “set the book down, i won’t attack. unless you want me to. but that will have to be after dinner.” he smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your temples before grabbing the book from your hands and placing it on the coffee table.
“what was that crash, and where did you go helmut! i wasn’t in the shower that long!” you complained, smacking his arm. “i went to pick up dinner, and when i came back, i accidentally dropped the bottle of wine i had bought. luckily, i got it all cleaned up, but, now there’s nothing to drink.” he expressed, pulling out the many boxes of take out. “i’m glad you’re okay, and it didn’t hurt you, but next time announce you’re home! you could have gotten killed if i hadn’t noticed you!” you scoffed, playing into his games. “i’m home, schatz!”
7 notes · View notes
CLIPPED WINGS | 3
CHPT 3. FLEE THE NEST
Laszlo Kreizler x female!reader series [SEASON ONE ONLY]
description: You're midway through bargaining yourself out of the Nightingale Women's Institution when another boy is found and Roosevelt is pushed to make a decision.
stars’ main masterlist!
CLIPPED WINGS MASTERLIST
ꜝ Trigger warnings for this chapter only ꜝ this chapter is rated MATURE/17+ as it will include mentions of minor prostitiuion - canon to ‘the alienist’, depictions of injury, blood, foul language, drug use/drugging, death, murder etc. Please only read if you’re comfortable with the mature/gory/explicit themes present in Alienist, which is rated 17+. OUTDATED VIEWS/TERMS TO DESCRIBE MENTAL ILLNESS.
previous chapter | | next chapter
Desperation was a powerful thing. Even the strongest of people could be brought to their knees over it, submit themselves to the lowest of actions in the name of desperation.
‘In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing.’ Those would later be the words of Theodore Roosevelt. And perhaps that was why he did what he had to. Perhaps the events of the day that he met the woman in the padlocked jacket had inspired him to accede to his desperation, admit defeat and choose the lesser of two evils.
Because as Sara, Laszlo and Theodore himself had stood to lead you back to the police carriage, ready to be shipped off to Nightingale Asylum with no chance of release in the future, one of the guards burst into the tiny interrogation room, his eyes darting to Roosevelt.
“There’s been another boy found, Commissioner,” He said in between puffs of breath, as though he had run through the entirety of the building to reach them as soon as he had received the news.
With that, all eyes fell to Theodore to make his decision.
Because it was clear what that meant. They were running out of time with little to no leads as to where to steer their investigation next. They needed help. They needed you.
He looked to you; your hands secured behind you with two of his fellow officers grabbing at your arms, then to Miss Howard and Dr Kreizler, who regarded him with a pleading gaze, knowing that your insight and position at Paresis Hall could help with the case immeasurably.
Teddy took a moment to think his options over, gaze tumbling to the floor. The pause was freighted with tension and waiting from all three parties who didn’t relent their corrosive stare at the man with the weight of the dead boys on his shoulders. “It seems you have reached a check-mate, Miss L/N,” He spoke quietly, as if somewhat ashamed as to what he was doing.
His job as police Commissioner was to catch criminals, force them to serve the time they owed in the name of justice, not free them back into society. But it was for the greater good, he had to tell himself. He was doing it in the name of the good of the children, the boys that were at risk of the sick person targeting them next, the families like the Santorelli’s that could lose their sons, their babies.
Because what if this killer moved onto bigger prey? That the small children no longer satiated him and he decided grown men and women were more his appetite now. In the time it had taken for him to talk with you and decline your plea of freedom, another life had already been taken, just sixteen days after Georgio had been found on the bridge.
He was choosing the lesser of two evils, Roosevelt reasoned with himself. The next best thing. He couldn’t stand there as more boys were slaughtered.
He gave the nod to his officers for them to release you. You were not done here as first thought.
The guards that held you were still seemingly still bitter about the fight you had put up when they had first wrestled you into the jacket and all but threw you back into the chair you had frequented. You stumbled back, legs weak from disuse, and fell back into your seat, the force of their push making it tip back in a fleeting moment onto its rear legs, before returning back with a thud.
“Please, she seems really quite passive. I doubt there is need for such brute force, gentlemen,” The man, the Doctor, with the soft eyes said in your defence. That you were not expecting. You stared at him for a moment, to which he looked back at you with a hint of a smile ghosting the corners of his lips.
What was his game? Who even was this man who seemed to extend his comfort to you despite being well aware of what you had done? He was forlorn, tentative with you almost in a way you’d never felt anyone behave towards you, both before and after… the incidents.
He was oddly calming, you’d give him that.
The three sat down once more, though this time you sat as equals. You held an upper hand here in a way you hadn’t when they’d first entered. You had a bargaining chip, your knowledge of the boys at Paresis Hall, and you were going to use it to fight tooth and nail for your freedom.
“If we let you free, there’s going to be some changes to the conditions of your arrest.” Roosevelt started, and you leaned forward in your seat.
“How so?” You asked, though you had a feeling from the cautious look in his eye it wouldn’t be a smooth transition into life as you’d known it as you hoped. But he was offering you freedom for heaven’s sake, you would take anything he put onto the table.
The commissioner looked hesitant to even propose it to you, knowing once he spoke he couldn’t take his word back. ‘For the greater good,’ bounced around Theodore’s head before he opened his mouth to talk once more.
“The first condition for your release is that you’re not allowed to leave New York? In fact, you don’t go anywhere without the accompaniment of someone working on the case.” It was less than favourable being babysat at your grand age of nearing thirty. You were a grown woman and you were still trying to recover your dignity left from being coddled like a child at Nightingale institution. Though the nurses were mostly kind, you hated how they babied you, treated you as though you belonged there, as though you really were a woman who had misplaced her sanity. But no matter how much it grated your nerves, you’d take being babysat over that wretched tiny, white room any day.
The days you had spent critiquing the lack of life in Nightingale was uncountable. The cynical part of you felt that was why everything was so clean, so bland. It hoped to turn the women habituating it into even blander, characterless beings. It planned to wipe every bit of them that remained intact clean; make them an ornament to society, something more acceptable to see. Turn mentally ill, sick women into pretty little statues that suddenly seemed nice to look at.
At least that was what could be said for you. Nightingale had tried to rip every unique part of you away and turn you into something pretty. And when they couldn’t, they forced you to sleep instead.
You would not go back there, you vowed.
“Okay,” You nodded, before a thought struck you at the proposition, “So will someone be living with me?”
Roosevelt went quiet, tilting his head in consideration “I suppose we could spare some men to keep guard over your door to prevent an escape. Though I was hoping to be subtle about releasing a prisoner into society...”
“If I may, Commissioner,” Doctor Kreizler cut in, making your head snap towards where he was sitting, “I believe I have the room to spare and Cyrus would provide the muscle power needed to stave off any nefarious behaviour. It would also allow me to assess Miss L/N more closely for any disconcerting behaviours that would make her a danger to be released.”
Theodore nodded at him, “Only if you’re sure, Kreizler. That would be a huge help to our department.” You looked between the men who discussed your future, ignoring the fact you felt Sara’s eyes on you.
“Great. I’ll stay with Doctor Kreizler and I won’t leave the city. Simple.” You said, making a move to stand. You had the taste of freedom tingling at the tip of your tongue, and you were hungry for it. A year and three months locked away in the institute and now there was the chance of emancipation standing before you. It had your heart racing in trepidation, pounding against your ribs with excitement. No more druggings. No more tiny rooms. No more nurses telling you when to eat, shoving the god awful food down your throat if you wouldn’t comply.
No more imprisonment. You could be normal again, get your life back to how it was before those awful men happened.
Doctor Kreizler seemed kind, that was a bonus. If you were to stay with him and this Cyrus he spoke of, you would be in good hands, gentle hands. You hoped, at least. You could be completely wrong about him, but out of the three people in the room, he seemed by far the superior choice for sudden supervisors.
“Then there’s the second term of your release,” Roosevelt’s voice stopped your excitement where it started, and you felt your eyebrows pull into a small frown. “If you step one single movement out of line, a lone hair width of trouble from you, and your pardon is revoked. You try to escape or hurt anyone else as you had done previously, and it’s the gallows for you Miss L/N.”
There it was.
You had to give it to Roosevelt, he was good. He had met your bargaining chip, your upper hand over the situation, with his own equally as compelling barter. You’d not had any intention as of yet to escape once and for all, but Roosevelt had made himself clear. You’d be stopped before you could even get a chance, you’d be hung for any misbehaviour. There would be no second chances.
But you wanted to help, truly. Not just for your own liberation, for Georgio. You hadn’t lied when you said you helped his family out here and there. You knew his mother struggled with such poor conditions and his father was a bastard even by your standards. He was such a small boy, and someone had robbed him from this world as well as whoever the boy was that had been found not minutes earlier.
You had a chance to help.
And so you nodded, albeit slowly, and your fate as an aid to the very same city you had sinned was sealed.
Roosevelt insisted on the guards leading you out the back entrance where a carriage awaited you and Laszlo to take you to his home. The New York police had covered up the fact they had caught the murderer of the seventeen men as simply a gang war that had gotten out of hand. They’d spun some half-assed story of how they’d chased the gang members out of New York with the promise of them not returning, too ashamed to admit it had been a pretty little woman who had caused them so much uproar. But the citizens had lapped it up, too afraid to think otherwise, to even dote on the fact that their precious high society was in danger.
So there you were, your identity safe yet being hurried into the back of the carriage to avoid any stares on the confining jacket that had still yet to be removed. The three watched as Roosevelt’s men shoved you into your seat, hearing you mumble something that clearly annoyed the bigger of the two as he swiftly backhanded your cheek and caused your lip to split open once more with a hiss of pain. Laszlo shook his head in despair, turning to his acquaintances. He was quick to notice Sara’s sad gaze as she stared at the coach where you sat, now forlorn as the blood rolled down your chin. He left her to her thoughts as the guard that had struck you handed him a small key, assumedly for the padlocks on that infernal jacket.
Laszlo glared at the man that passed him the small, metal object. His father had always taught him that there was no respect or honour in hitting women, particularly not for a man as huge and bulky as the officer in front of him. His papa may have been cruel to him at times, but he had the utmost respect for his wife and sisters and had always taught him to never lay an angry hand on a woman.
“I think it wise of you to wait until you’re with Cyrus until you free her. I’m still unsure of her nature, though I can only guess it is unreliable,” Roosevelt said quietly as Laszlo pocketed the key and stepped forward towards the carriage.
“I will heed your warning, Commissioner, but I am optimistic she will be co-operative if she cares about the boys as much as I believe she does.” He replied, turning his attention to Sara and speaking louder, “We will speak very soon, Miss Howard,”
She spared him a glance, nodding to him silently as though still lost in thought. He took his leave, stepping into the carriage himself and taking a seat opposite you.
And with that, the two of you were alone.
The coachman set off towards the other side of town, where Kreizler’s house was, and for a moment the horses’ hooves on the stone roads were the only thing to fill the silence.
You stared at him cautiously, taking in his smart clothing and the lavish gold-capped cane he carried in his left hand. He was a man of money, you quickly deduced, though he looked like no doctor you had ever seen before. He carried no stethoscope or white coat and looked more like a man of high society than anything. Your gaze travelled up to his face, his thick, well-groomed beard that gave him a very masculine yet gentle face, and eventually met two honey eyes that watched you take him in. You stared into them for a moment, as he did to yours, seemingly matching each other’s gaze with equally piqued interest.
He offered you a small smile, ostensibly trying to mute the caution that was written all over your face. You looked like a deer, attempting to decide if he were a hunter or some other menial woodland creature that would cause you no harm. So he spoke, quietly and passively to be sure he didn’t discomfort you.
“My name is Doctor Kreizler. I’m an Alienist working with Sara to catch Georgio’s murderer, and now as it seems the new boy as well,” He introduced himself, though he thought better than to attempt to shake your hand seeing as they were restricted. “I apologise for the restraints. I’m simply abiding to the commissioner’s wishes, I don’t believe you would do me any harm,”
“What makes you so sure?” You asked, your eyes narrowed onto the man who tilted his head at you in consideration.
“Miss L/N, unlike my peers I don’t believe you murdered those men on a whim. You said you were a school teacher, and that you helped the Santorelli’s when you could. From that, I can deduce you’re compassionate in nature. A compassionate woman doesn’t kill for the fun of it.” He explained, and you stared at him softly.
He had been the first, if the only, person to not brandish you a heartless ripper like everyone else.
“Is that what you do as an alienist?” You asked, curious about who this man that seemed so different to the others was. You looked down at your skirting, unable to keep his intensely inquisitive gaze on you. “You make deductions about people? Because you seem awfully sure of yourself.”
He smiled slightly again, this time a little humoured despite your serious tone. “Sometimes, yes. It’s my job to see what’s not there in someone’s words. Decide what is actually being said despite it not leaving the person’s lips.” He watched you nod in understanding, meeting his eyes again. “Can I gather from your silence that I was accurate in my conclusion that you had a good reason to murder those men?”
And there it was again. The coldness in your eyes at the prodding of the raw nerve. He should have known better than to inquire so quickly about your actions, but he was Laszlo after all. He had never been good at holding his tongue when something was on his mind. ‘You're too curious for this world, Laszlo,’ his mother’s words reverberated around his head as you drew into yourself, glaring at him for a second before avoiding his gaze altogether and searching out of the carriage window at the passers-by.
“It seems I have offended you, forgive me,” He said earnestly, attempting to reclaim your attention once more. “Miss L/N, if we are to find this murderer and…” he searched for the correct word, “cohabitate in my home for the time being, I wish for us to be civil, if not acquaintances.”
You thought his words over. He seemed to be genuine about his apology and it would make things incredibly difficult if you were to bicker with the man who had been gracious enough to offer you a place in his home. So you looked back at him, his face sweet with atonement, and nodded to him.
“Alright,” You spoke quietly, “In that case, you may call me Y/N,”
“Laszlo,” He replied, and you smiled at him in a sign of peace.
He produced an embellished handkerchief from his breast pocket and gently reached over to wipe your cheek where the guards had pressed you to the floor. It had been wet with something awful smelling that you hadn’t wanted to know the origin of, though it seems it must have left a mark as he lightly brushed over your cheekbone to remove it.
“You don’t have to,” You tried to say, though it came out as a peep at the tenderness in his movement, and he soon moved to your chin, brushing the remnants of blood away.
“Nonsense. I fear looking like that you’ll scare Mary,” He replies and you felt your heart tug as he gently dabbed at the split in your lip.
“Mary? Is that your wife?” You asked, keeping your movements as little as possible.
“No, my housemaid.” He replied simply, meeting your eyes that seemed to watch his face during his ministrations. “She will be able to patch up your wound,”
“That’s very generous, but I’m sure it can heal on its own.” You said, shifting in your spot as your arms began to fall asleep from their awkward position. “Is it just you two?”
“No. There is Cyrus and Stevie too,” Laszlo explained and you leaned in, eager to learn more of your sudden living arrangements, “Cyrus is my servant and bodyguard, and Stevie is my house boy,” You nodded your head in acknowledgement, though you were a little confused. Why would someone who seemingly lived without family employ three people to act as domestic help? How large could his house be exactly?
You remained quiet nevertheless, your eyes trailing the streets through the window. The horses trotting by with their passengers in tow. Children running in between the crowds, their little heads tipped back with carefree laughter despite the terrible, grown-up things happening in New York.
Just the colours of everything you embraced, a desperate change from the plain, bland white of Nightingale. Your eyes caught cherry blossom pinks in women’s dresses, verdant green in the fresh apples on one grocer’s stall, lapis blue in the writing on a shop window.
You couldn’t catch them all fast enough. The technicolour enthralled your vision after a year of dormant monochrome.
Laszlo’s eyes didn’t leave your face.
“Is there something the matter?” he asked, curious as to what had caught your attention so deeply.
“It’s nothing, it’s just,” You looked at the man and smiled bashfully, “I haven’t been outside in a while. I’ve missed seeing people, the outdoors.”
“I don’t wish for you to feel like a prisoner in my home, Y/N. Any time you wish to leave, whether it be for the case or for general purposes either Cyrus or myself can accompany you,” Laszlo promised, and your smile rested on your lips as you looked at him in pleasant surprise.
“Thank you, Laszlo. That’s very kind,” You replied, turning your attention back to the outside of the carriage.
And he was. He had proven himself to be kinder, gentler, than any man you’d ever met in the mere ten minutes you’d known him and you only felt curious as to where he found the strength to be so wonderfully caring for a woman, a murderer, than didn’t deserve his generosity in the slightest.
Laszlo Kreizler was like no man you’d ever met.
You’d arrived at his home shortly after that. With your lack of arms available to cement yourself to the ground, Laszlo found himself helping you to hop down from the carriage, albeit with a slight stumble on your part. He steadied you, shooting you a quick nod of reassurance before he led you up the steps to his home.
It was huge, that much you noted, possibly even three floors to it and the large, mahogany door surrounded a frosted glass window. A small side road led around to a yard area from what you could see, and the smell of animal manure was clear in the air. You knew what that meant, a man of his standing would no doubt have his own carriage tucked away back there, and even better…
“You have horses?” You asked as you reached the top step, him reaching out for the door handle with his left hand and twisting.
He opened the door, gesturing for you to enter, “Yes, three. Stevie usually tends to them, though, they’re working horses not pets.” He explained, and you nodded, making a mental note to chase up this Stevie about taking you to see them.
It was then you regarded his home. The chandelier that hung above your head must have cost a fortune alone. It rested classically in between a huge semi-spiralled staircase, illuminating the foyer you stood in as the dark wood of the railings and floorboards came to life. The wallpaper was timely, a dark blue base with cream details of flowers and swirls and other such patterns. It was oddly well furnished despite the fact this was strictly a man’s home, and part of you wondered if he had ever had a feminine association to help him.
He called out for Cyrus first, no doubt seeing as this was the man who was meant to keep you in check, per Roosevelt’s orders. Before he could call out again, a few thudding footsteps came from the kitchen in the back of the house, and a bulking tower of a man strolled into the foyer.
Despite his huge size, he had a round, kind face, beauty marks scattered on his cheekbones that you had always adored on a person. They had a way of bringing qualities to the skin, as though God himself had dripped ink over his creation, just to make it that bit more unique.
“Yes, sir?” He responded politely. He looked from the Doctor, then to you and you could only imagine what you looked like.
You knew your hair was a mess from how hard the guards had yanked it when two of them tackled you to the ground as the others had slipped the jacket on you in the first place. Your lip, though now looking less fresh thanks to Laszlo’s handkerchief, was still split and swollen slightly and the thin, cheap white gown they’d given you to wear at Nightingale was nothing like the beautiful robes you were accustomed to. You knew you looked like hell had spat you out and it read on the surprised look on this Cyrus’ face.
“Cyrus this is Y/N L/N. She’ll be staying with us to help on the Santorelli case.” Laszlo explained, handing the tiny key from his pocket to the larger man. “Would you undo these padlocks while I go find Stevie and Mary?”
“Certainly,” The man complied, the key looking like something from a children’s dollhouse in his huge hands. The doctor strode off, the sound of his footsteps reverberating as he headed towards the back room, the kitchen, that Cyrus had just entered from in search of his other house guests.
“Thank you,” You said to the man as you felt him jiggle around with the key. No doubt the size difference made it difficult for him too as he fumbled with the tiny port.
“I’m a little too scared to ask how you ended up in these, ma’am,” His deep voice spoke, trying to lighten the mood as you stood in awkward silence. You laughed lightly, shaking your head.
“I upset a few people I shouldn’t have, let’s just say that.” You replied as the first sleeve popped open and your right arm was freed. It fell limply at your side, dead and only tingling after a moment as the blood rushed through it once more. Just as Cyrus began fiddling with the second lock, a teenaged boy entered the foyer, a beautiful woman trailing behind him. Your brows raised slightly; this must be Mary. For a housemaid, you had to admit she was exquisite to the eye, with raven hair pinned back into a neat bun looking shinier than the finest silk you’d ever seen. Her dark eyes were wide with intrigue and almond-shaped, immediately zoning in on your lip with concern.
Stevie struck you next. He was tall, lean as most boys you’d seen in his societal position were but you highly doubted that the doctor starved him with all his available wealth. He had a strong jaw and a sweep of reddish-brown hair, with a face full of youthful freckles to match. He couldn’t have been older than sixteen. Two alarmed, cocoa eyes stared at you, to which you simply smiled slightly at him to show you meant no harm despite what the jacket suggested.
Laszlo ambled behind them as the pair of them came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. “Mary, Stevie. This is Y/N. She’s helping Sara, John and I on the Santorelli case.”
“What the hell is up with that jacket?” Stevie asked as you felt the second padlock drop off and your other arm was freed from restraints. You felt Cyrus undo the buckles that kept the infernal thing on your body, your arms painful with the hot tingling of waking up once more and, before you knew it, the leather slid down your arms altogether.
You eyed Laszlo, both of you seeming to share the same thought. Lie. Do not tell them who you are.
“Pickpocketing.” You said quickly, thinking on your feet for an excuse. You had a feeling ‘multi-murderer’ would only drive the three newcomers away from you, so something much less hair raising seemed fair.
But Stevie’s face only paled. “That’s what they do to pickpockets these days?” He blew a huff through pursed lips, “Looks like I got off easy,”
“Really?” You couldn’t help the amused smile spreading on your face at his response. “I don’t think a cane to the hand is cutting it anymore,” You mused.
He tutted as you shook your hands out, the pain subsiding as the blood reached your fingertips with the movement. “I’ll say,”
With another smile flashed at the boy, you looked at Mary who was still furrowing her brows at your injury, “I’m Y/N,” You said, offering your hand to her.
She didn’t reply, instead shaking your hand with a nod and a smile. You assumed she must just be shy so you didn’t mention it, your etiquette teacher’s voice echoing in your head that it was incredibly rude to be confrontational in such a way.
She pointed to her lip, where your cut was on your own face. You raised your brow, gesturing to your injury, “This? Don’t worry, it’ll heal on its own,”
But Mary shook her head, tilting her head back to insinuate you to follow her. “I’d do as she says, she can get very insistent with things like this,” Cyrus said, and you looked to Laszlo. Would this be okay? Roosevelt had been clear he wanted you to be accompanied by someone bigger, stronger than you at all times. How would Laszlo fare with you in a kitchen, alone with his maid, a woman small enough to easily overpower?
Surely he wouldn’t trust you. And yet, he was exactly the opposite to what you expect of a man, as he had been all day.
Because he nodded, a tiny smile twitching his lips as you passed him following Mary with a shocked look on your face at his permittance, and you entered the kitchen with the beautiful woman.
It was much more open than the foyer was, light streaming through two large windows that looked out onto a small courtyard. The floors were a reddish terracotta that matched the cream tones in the walls and furnishings, and you had to admit he had good taste. There was a huge wooden counter in the middle to prepare food on and a large copper basin wide enough to fit a small child. She grabbed a high stool at the side of the table, moving it closer to you and patting on the seat perkily. You compiled with her as she walked over to the cupboard below the sink and pulled out some rubbing alcohol and cotton pads. Twisting off the cap to the bottle, she splashed some onto the material, shuffling closer to you.
“This is really very kind of you, Mary.” You said graciously as she gently swiped at the wound with the alcohol, “How long have you worked for the Doctor?”
She looked at you puzzled, as though she was surprised you were even making small talk with her. But how couldn’t you? She was doing you a kindness and with such gentle, motherly hands too. She shook her head silently and before you could press any questions, Laszlo entered.
“Mary cannot speak, I found her as a young girl and she has worked for me ever since.” He explained as you sat ghostly still in your seat so as not to knock the woman.
“Lovely,” You mused, though your heart melted slightly at his kindness. “I hate to be too forward but what of my clothes and belongings? They’re all still at my home a couple of streets away,”
Laszlo seemed to consider this, as though he hadn’t given much thought to it before and neither had you to be fair, until the jacket had come off and you saw the ghastly cheap gown they had stuck you in. Wiping away all character and uniqueness, just as Nightingale intended.
“Cyrus and I can accompany you home in the morning to collect some things,” He offered, and you nodded slightly as Mary moved the cotton up to your right cheekbone. It stung as she did so, and you assumed there was a cut there either from the floor or the nasty slap you’d received that you hadn’t noticed before.
“And my job at Paresis Hall? I suppose it would be wise for me to return there to keep an eye on the boys, see if they know anything about the murderer,” You saw Mary’s eyes flick to yours for a split second, curiosity and something close to alarm at the revelation of your previous employment before she continued with her gentle touch.
“Yes, that too.” Laszlo nodded, gesturing for you to follow him. “Come along. I’ll show you to your room,”
You stood from the chair, Mary moving away from you with a nod of her head to bid you goodbye. You went to follow the Doctor through the hallway back to the huge staircase before you caught yourself.
“Mary,” You said clearly, stopping in your tracks and turning on your heel. She looked up inquisitively, mid-way through screwing the cap back onto the peroxide, “Thank you again. That was very sweet of you,”
It had been easy for you to lose some manners having been your only real company for over a year, but the dazzling smile on her face as you turned to leave was worth catching yourself on the bad habit.
You followed Laszlo up the winding stairs, Stevie and Cyrus now off doing their duties seeing as it was by now past lunch. You were starving, but you would simply wait until morning rather than bother anyone for a meal. Truthfully, you were a little nervous to be cohabitating with people once more, so you didn’t want to push anyone for anything, especially not to use someone else’s food. Even Mary going out of her way to tend to you had warmed your heart yet bitten you with a sense of guilt you couldn’t deny, that you needed someone to take care of you.
You had always been independent in nature, so this was going to be odd.
The two of you reached the top of the stairs, and you took in the chandelier from the new point. Every single glass crystal sparkled with not a single spec of dust to coat it, and you commemorated Mary’s cleaning skills. It dazzled your eyes, making it hard to look directly at, but you couldn’t stop yourself from getting lost in the maze of refracted light bouncing at you. It reminded you of the crystalline glasses of champagne at the parties your father used to force you to attend.
With the single memory, your mood turned sour. You hadn’t thought of him in a whole year.
“Your house is really beautiful, Laszlo,” You commented, eyes moving to the paintings on the walls. Most were menial things like fruit and landscapes but one stuck out to you immediately. It was a man, elderly and stern-looking with a nose resembling that of your host. His eyes were black with scorn, and he held no trace of the softness that Laszlo adhered you with. Either it was a fault of the artist, or that man was as mean as his face suggested.
You would investigate further another time, you decided, as Laszlo stood outside a door at the end of the hallway.
“This is the room I have spare. I apologise if it is not to your liking.” He said quietly, almost shy to show you what he had to offer. But he couldn’t have been more wrong.
The wood was a little darker than you would have chosen for yourself but other than that the room was lovely. There was a twin bed endowed with plain grey sheets and a simple chest of drawers and a matching nightstand next to it. The thick red rug poking out from under the bed complimented the wood perfectly, and the curtains opened up to give you a lovely view of the people passing by on the street below. You knew you’d spend the best part of the afternoon people watching.
It was wonderful.
“Nonsense. It’s perfect,” You said, smiling genuinely while peering down at the view you had.
“Mine and Stevie’s rooms are right across from yours and Mary’s is next door.” He said, as you turned to look over your shoulder to see him awkwardly standing in the doorway, looking unsure if he should leave you to your staring. “Supper is in an hour or two,”
You smiled widely at that. Thank fuck. Food. “Perfect,” You repeated yourself and he gave you a brief nod, turning to leave you to your new space. You couldn’t have that though, “Laszlo, wait!” You said loudly, hurrying over to the doorway and catching his hand, the one not holding his cane. He froze instantly, head snapping to look at you with an unreadable expression, but you assumed that was from your loud tone. “Thank you. Truly, thank you,” You said quietly, with as much honesty as you could fit into your voice, briefly stroking his hand with your thumb, “I won’t betray the trust you’ve put in me, I hope you know that.”
He said nothing, just stared at you and nodded slightly. You smiled at him again, letting go of him and retreating back into your room, closing the door as he made his way back down the stairs.
You couldn’t think why he had reacted in such a way. It puzzled you for the next half an hour, but with the smell of something divine wafting upstairs to your empty stomach, the thought left your mind before you could linger over it.
God you were ravenous.
@clints-lucky-arrow @lol-im-done @cazzyimagines
This was the last chapter worth of set up I promise! I'll move onto plot starting 1x02 next chapter :)
3 notes · View notes
When i was in undergrad I'd get really overwhelmed when writing papers (which was all the time as a history major) so I'd listen to Tchaikovsky on repeat. I essentially have all of the nutcracker memorized.
Here I am today using my man's Tchai to help me write zemo smut 😊
8 notes · View notes
It is 3pm, I have a charcuterie board, some turkish delight, and a bottle of champagne and I'm ready to write for our boy Zemo
26 notes · View notes
I'm having thoughts about a sequel to my zemo x plus size reader fic No One But Me but I'm afraid that after being in such a niki lauda simp zone I'm not doing to be able to write it correctly
12 notes · View notes
Tags: descriptions of injury, small mention of blood, Niki being a dummkopf, german, angst, hurt/comfort, some humor
A/N: our favorite Austrian asshole made interesting choices regarding his health. We knew this 🤔
Niki pulled into the pit quicker than he intended when the grand prix ended. The brakes squeaked in protest. He didn’t even care that he’d come in 4th place. His chest felt like it was on fire, like he would combust at any second. He needed to get out of the car.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Swallow. In. Out. Don’t puke.
Biting his lip to stifle the pain, he was sure he would bite the damn thing off. Arturo and Luca are already waiting to help him out of the car. Carefully they help him maneuver himself out of the car as smoothly as they can. Niki nods in thanks. The two share a look over his head, knowing something is wrong. “Get Dungl on the phone.” Luca leaves to do as instructed.
“What’s wrong?” Arturo asks.
“Ribs,” is all Niki can manage to get out around the tightness in his chest. Arturo nods, knowing about his situation. Niki leans onto a wall, keeping his back as straight as he possibly can. His breathing is shallow.
Looking up under his lashes he can see you walking over to greet him. He panics for a moment, knowing you always wrap him in your arms after a race, even though he complains that he must smell awful. He does the first thing he can think of - he grabs your hands in his own, holding them out to the side a bit as you lean in. This way you are still able to kiss him without surely doing more damage to his ribs.
You must notice the odd gesture, the stiffness in his lips as he returns the favor; your brows furrow for a second before smoothing out again. “You did great out there today.”
Niki’s answer is curt and forced. “Thank you.”
His response sounds annoyed almost, like he’s holding back anger at something. Nothing particularly dramatic happened during the race itself that you remember. You figure he must be upset about not placing in the top three. You had no fears that it had anything to do with you. Holding out a hand to him, you intend to walk him back to the trailer to change out of his coveralls.
He hesitates, his body clenches tight as you begin to pull him. A grunt breaks from his parted lips, his eyes scrunched shut.
Stopping, you search his face and ask “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, liebe.” He looks over your face and sees your questioning glance. “Muscles are just tight after being in the car,” he fibs, a strained smile on his face.
You seem to buy it enough. This time, Niki is as prepared as possible when you pull on his arm again. Each step he takes sends a stabbing through his chest and through his spine. He does his best to mask the pain from his features as you walk to the trailer.
Once the door is closed you turn to unzip his uniform. He allows you this much, knowing that he literally can’t bend over to push the garment down his hips and legs. Carefully, he steps out of the material with your help. Fucking hell, it hurts. He focuses on schooling his breaths so that you don't notice when it inevitably hitches.
The toe of his shoe catches on the pant leg, causing Niki to lose his balance. Nearly falling into the side of the trailer to catch himself he can’t stop the agonizing yelp that he makes. “Scheisse!” The little air that was in his lungs leaves him, his head spinning with pain and lack of oxygen. Black spots swim through his vision.
At his exclamation you stand, your hands flying out to steady him against his chest. At the contact of your fingers against his sweater he flinches, giving another pathetic yelp. You yank them off him; “Niki what the hell is going on?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, his face scrunched in a deep scowl. He can taste the iron from where he has bitten through his lip. Without realizing it, he’d brought one arm up around his waist to clutch at the injury.
You notice his arm cradling his chest. “Sit.” It’s a command that Niki doesn’t have the ability to fight. He lowers himself onto the bed in the corner. Reaching down, you carefully pull his arm away from him, slowly lifting the sweater up. A black and white binding of some sort supports his torso. Fingers barely ghosting down the thick straps, you ask “what is this?” You are full on panicking at this point.
“I’m fine, liebe, I just need to sit for a minute,” he grunts out.
“That’s bullshit, Niki, and you know it. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
Looking at your face he can tell that you’re barely restraining your fear and concern for him. He can also tell that you're right - he does feel like he's moments from losing consciousness. Niki licks his lips. “I… broke a few ribs.”
“You WHAT? When!?” your shout echoes around the trailer's walls.
He can’t suppose he’s upset by your reaction. There is no doubt you would have found out sooner or later anyway. Niki just hoped it would have been less dramatic circumstances. “Few days ago. I- uh-” he groans, the talking straining his chest uncomfortably, "fell off my tractor. I’m fine.” The Austrian lilt to his accent is heavy and rough.
Your hands fly up as if to say ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’, a scoff joining the gesture. “First of all - why the hell are you racing when you’re hurt, and second - since when do you drive a bloody tractor?”
He doesn’t have the chance to answer you; a knock on the door breaks your attention to the visitor. Thank god for Niki, it’s his trainer Dungl. He doesn’t look pleased himself as he enters, giving Niki a judgemental look for good measure. Dungl gets right to work sorting Niki out.
A few hours later you drive Niki home. He has been quiet since the trainer, as Niki had referred to him, arrived and sorted him out. The race had caused two of the broken ribs to shift out of place and press up against his lungs. Had he been in an accident, god forbid, he could have punctured a lung and killed himself with his stupidity. The radio does nothing to quell the tense air surrounding you both.
“You can’t do that.” You swallow.
Niki clears his throat gently. The drugs he’d taken have taken effect finally, giving him respite from the agony in his chest. “I know.”
“You’re so smart Niki. Christ, you’re the smartest guy I know when it comes to this shit. But then you pull an absolute bollocks move like that.” You take a breath to calm yourself. He shifts next to you. ‘I’m not- I’ve already accepted how dangerous the drive is… but I can’t Niki. I can’t watch you pull some bullshit move like this again. You scared me half to death. I'm going to be your wife, Niki; I need you to keep yourself alive.” Emotion hangs on every word you speak.
Niki knows it was stupid. Ich bin ein dummkopf, he thinks regretfully. He just got so caught up in racing and winning and not wanting to be seen as weak. Reaching a hand over, he circles his fingers around your own. He rubs his thumb across your palm. “I know. I’m sorry, liebling, really. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
You are silent for a moment before you nod, your eyes remaining on the road ahead of you.
“I love you, Catherine. More than I could ever say.” He brings your hand to his lips and places a delicate kiss to your knuckles. The solid warmth of your ring gives him comfort that you'll stick by him even when he pulls hairbrained stunts like this. Not that he's planning any more of them, that is.
Finally, you break your eyes from the road to look at him. “I love you too, you right idiot.” The grin on your face confirms that you have forgiven him.
A few moments of now comfortable silence passes, your hand still in his as you drive. Suddenly your voice pierces the quiet, “and another thing - how on earth did you get run over by a tractor?”
Tag list: @ay0nha @apparrio @livvyshmiv @fictionlandslanddreams @vinylrosess @typical-bistander @ntlmundy @mymagicsuitcase @anteroom-of-death @somethingthatsaysbubbles @lieutenantn @multiversemarielle @trashbin2 @whatawildone @metalbreakfast @laura-naruto-fan1998 @greeneyedblondie44 @godidontevenknowwhat @marchingicenotes7
31 notes · View notes
Y/N and Zemo a love story maybe???? 🥺
Love in Thoughts (Zemo x Y/n)
Imagine Zemo as a young Prince of sokovia seeing you for the first time in a royal occasion where you ended up accidentally (as you don’t belong to any royal class) and him instantly falling in love the moment he laid his eyes on you...
Him sneaking out at midnight to meet you as he’s not allowed to date ordinary people.
Him kind of threatening every other boys who even tries to get closer to you. Obviously he’s a possessive lover.
Oh and that first time of making love. You both young, nervous yet so passionate about it...but the young prince knows what kind of effect he has on you.
Him promising you that if his family doesn’t approve you ... may be he will just runway giving up everything ...As he’s so in love with you that nothing else matter.
And so he does...😌
I wanted to post something like this one for a long time... Thank you so much to whoever send that anon 😭❤
69 notes · View notes
Dance with me?
Synopsis: Request from @btsarmygirl417 : Andrea Marowski x shy plus size reader. Reader is Ursula and Janet’s neighbour and has a crush on Andrea, but she is nervous to talk to him (fluff)
Word count: 2.5k
Author’s note: I'm sorry it's taken so long to get to this request but I hope you like it!
(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)
Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username
In the village, everyone knew everyone. Any news you received was received to the rest of the village. Nothing was kept private here. It wasn’t people’s fault for being gossips, after all, there wasn’t much happening in the village that it was exciting any slight chance of change. One village member, Sid, always pops around to visit everyone once a week with the latest village news that he had heard and if you tell him anything you know by at least next week he has gone around to everyone else telling them. It’s why the news of Ursula and Janet taking in a young man who was found washed up on the shore was quick to spread.
From your window which the early morning sun shone through, you had noticed what appeared to be a body washed up on the beach. He was facing down and looked as if already dead. Before you even had a chance to think of what you should do, you realised your neighbours, Ursula and Janet were running down beside him. Not wanting to seem like you were being nosey if they saw you from your window, you moved away. But after hearing it was a young man they had found on the beach your mind was plagued by thoughts. What was he like? What did he look like? Was he like the other village men? Why was he out in the storm? But all your questions were to remain unanswered.
So the mystery man was left alone. You often found yourself back by your bedroom window, trying to sneak a view into their garden to spot this new stranger but you never saw anything. If you hadn’t seen the commotion on the beach you wouldn’t have believed Sid about a new person next door. You never saw him and you never heard him. Eventually, you grew tired of trying to find out information and assumed the man had left without you even noticing.
That was until you heard the music. Your window was open letting the fresh breeze roll in as you worked on your sewing when the melody of a violin started to float in. At first, this melody was jolty, it didn’t flow properly and you recognised it as Pendered’s playing. But then something softer started playing. The music gentle but emotive, skilled far beyond anything Pendered could play. You were enraptured by it. The soft melody spoke to your heart and when it ended you ached for more. You just knew it was the young man who was playing. It could be no one else. Your curiosity about him ignited again and while you simply could have gone over to their house and asked about him. You didn’t dare. The thought of doing that scared you to death. You knew Ursula and Janet but not well enough to intrude upon them purely for the sake of music. They were quite closed off people and you were very shy yourself. And even if they did let you in what would you say to the young man? Just that you really liked his music, that you were really curious about knowing more about him. You could understand how weird that was and so from your own shyness and insecurities you choose to remain at a distance from the house.
After a few more weeks of hoping you might see this mysterious man, your wishes were granted. You glanced out of your window one morning, looking for the birds which you could hear singing their sweet melody, but out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed movement. Glancing over your eyes widened as you noticed the young man standing beside some flower patches.
You watched in amazement as you saw him tilt his head side to side deliberating on which flowers he should pick. His hands rested on his hips as he thought, a few strands of his hair falling loose upon his forehead and finally, he made his decision and he leant over to pluck some of the purple forget-me-knots. He brought them up to this nose, smelling them as a happy smile appears on his lips. After picking a few he spins on his heel, ready to take them to Ursula and Janet when he notices a shadow that causes him to look directly up at you.
Instantly you ran away from the window, hiding behind the wall. Your heart was beating fast as you anxiously waited, worried about what he would have thought of you for staring at him.
His voice called out among the songs of the birds and you clasped your hand around your mouth in case he could hear you breathing. You hoped he would just assume he saw things and wander off yet he called out to you again.
“Where you go?”
After ten more minutes, you finally dare to peak out of the window and let out a sigh of relief as you realise he had walked off. You glanced back over to the other house, wondering what he would be doing now, and wondering if you really should have run away when he noticed you, but you knew you would have been mortified to have been caught staring. You pushed thoughts of him aside and believed that was the end of it till later that evening when you opened the front door to go on a walk and found the bunch of purple forget-me-nots delicately placed upon your doorstep.
Picking them up you bring them to your nose and smell them, letting the sweet aroma surround you. You wondered if Andrea smelt of the same sweetness of these flowers, or perhaps he smelt more of the sea, the reminders of what he had been through still lingering upon him. You take the flowers back inside and place them in a glass vase full of water and for the rest of the night, your mind was swarmed with thoughts of that man, his sweet smile as he looked down at the flowers, the thought of him coming to place the flowers upon your doorstep. It made your heart swell. Into your dreams he followed you, holding your hand he danced with you until the sun rose you from your sleep.
As you prepared your breakfast you kept sneaking glances back to the flowers, almost not believing they were truly there, yet they were. But unknowingly to you just as much as your curiosity was with Andrea, his was with you. It was only a few hours later when you heard a knock at the door. Believing it to be Sid you go to open it to let him in and instead you were confronted by the young boy, smiling happily at you.
As you stared at him, mouth slightly ajar, wide-eyed he gave you a little wave.
“Hello! I’m Andrea, Andrea Marowski! I see you yesterday”
He leans back and points his finger up to your bedroom window, “Up in window”
You could feel yourself going beetroot red as Andrea points out the fact that he had caught you staring, and then also the fact that you hid from him after. You felt so embarrassed you had to look away from him.
“Oh- y-yeah. I’m, I’m by that window a lot”
“You like the flowers?”
“Yes, the-they were lovely, An-an-Andrea,” you say meekly, stumbling on your words making you blush even more.
“Your name is?” Andrea says, waiting expectantly. As he waits he chooses to lean against the door casually, his hair flopping over his forehead and his shirt dipping slightly exposing his chest more to you.
Your mind blanks making Andrea snicker as he sees where your eyes have been drawn. He leans back up and crosses his arms over his chest, smirking at you as you are pulled out of your trance.
“Oh! Y/n, y/n y/l”
“Y/n,” he says, repeating it in his mouth, sounding it out in his accent.
“Pretty” he finally says. He opens his mouth to say more but is interrupted when you hear the distinctive voice of Ursula calling out his name from her house. Andrea winces as he looks over to where he was being called and then looks back over to you and offers you an awkward smile.
“I must go. Goodbye y/n”
He offers out his hand, waiting for you to shake. Panicking, thinking your palms might be sweaty you quickly rub them against your dress and then take his hand and shakes it. You were barely holding his hand for a second before you pulled it back, hoping he didn’t notice how nervous you were.
Andrea runs off, choosing to turn around briefly and wave at you then disappeared into the sister’s house leaving you to think about that interaction for the rest of the day, thinking about how awkward you were, all the time you stumbled over your own words and how much you wish you weren’t shy.
You hated the fact that he had seen you yesterday spying, and surely he must have known what you were doing which is why he felt obliged to go and introduce himself to you. Well, you were determined not to embarrass yourself anymore and found it in your best interest to avoid Andrea.
He appeared at your door again a few times knocking and each time you pretended you were out. He would wait outside your door at least for five minutes and then sighing, turning away and dejectedly walking away with his hands in his pocket, his head drooping. You would occasionally see him just outside your house, trying to see if he could spot you in the window but you didn’t believe he had. He tried to be subtle at times, one time you even swore you thought you saw him hiding in a bush seeing if he could trick you into thinking he wasn’t there, but now you were avoiding appearing at any window at any cost. All in all, you thought you were able to avoid him successfully till the night the music started.
Once again you were sitting beside your window, sewing away at your dress when the sweet sound of the violin floated up. Already your mood lifted at the sound of it and the music made you feel as if you were floating through the clouds themselves. The music was so beautiful you just had to look out the window to see him there, violin in hand playing to you.
But alas! You had fallen into his trap. As soon as you appeared in the window Andrea stopped playing to look up at you, holding his arms out in questioning, a frown upon his lips.
“Why you avoid me?” he shouts up to your window.
“I’m- I’m not avoiding you!” you shout back, already feeling the urge to hide away from the window where his piercing gaze is upon you.
“You are! I see you at window when I knock but no answer. Why is that?”
And he had caught you out once again. No matter what answer you may provide you knew it wouldn’t look good for you so at last, you accepted honesty as the best policy.
“I’m sorry Andrea, it’s just, well, I’m quite shy”
Andrea’s eyes cast down in confusion, frowning slightly at your words, “Shy?” he questions not knowing the word.
You pause for a moment, struggling to find the right way to describe it.
Instantly Andrea paled, looking shocked and saddened. “I scare you?”
“No!” you quickly shout back hoping you didn’t upset him, “Talking… scares me”
Andrea opens his mouth, letting out an “Ah” as he finally understands and shakes his head. “Talking scares me too”
“Because you don’t know English?”
“Yes, but also no. Even Polski I know no what to say at times”
You nod in understand and almost ironically you now don’t know what to say in response to Andrea, but he speaks for you.
“Tonight, dance in hall. You come with me?”
You freeze in shock at Andrea’s words.
“Y-You, want to go with me?”
“Andrea… that’s not - that’s not really my sought of thing”
A frown appears on his lips and he gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “Please y/n?”
And how could you resist?
Hours later you anxiously waited outside the hall for any sight of Andrea. More of the village people walked past and while they appeared nice, you could tell from the way they side-eyed you they didn’t expect you to come to such a thing. After what felt like hours of waiting you were ready to call it quits when you heard the sound of a motorbike and finally saw Andrea sitting on the back of Jonathan’s motorbike.
As soon as he saw you he lept off the motorbike and ran up to you, smiling widely. “Y/n!” he shouted giddily as he approached you.
“Hi Andrea,” you say shyly, feeling your cheeks heat up as you look away from him. After greetings, he opens his arms to let you walk ahead first into the hall. It was very jam-packed and as you walked in you could feel the judgemental eyes upon you. They cast their scornful glare upon you simply for being who you were, and while you could feel them, Andrea seemed none the wiser.
His smile beamed as he looked around the hall, his energy rising. He brushed his hand against yours and you were about to move your hand away but he reached and grasped it tightly. He turned to you, his eyes sparkling.
You look away, trying to swallow your nerves.
“I’m not sure Andrea…”
His lips moved seamlessly as his eyebrows knitted, “You no like dance?” he finally says, trying to make sense of the situation.
“No Andrea, it’s just, I don’t think they would like someone of my uh body type, dancing with them. I’m not like a lot of the young women in the village Andrea”
Finally, Andrea’s eyes cast around the room, realising the presence you were pulling. His lips twisted down in a frown, his mouth opens slightly in disappointment and almost the spark from his eyes faded but as he turns back to you and offers you a smile, taking your arms within his.
“I no care what they think, you don’t either. Dance with me for fun, no care for others. For I like you, I like you very much”
The gleam came back to Andrea’s eyes as he finally sees a bright smile appear on your face, his words bringing you out of your worries and into the sunshine with him. Holding your arms in his he leads you to the main floor and spins you around, and you two were dancing till the sun went down.
TAGS: @shrekboobies @arianalilyblack @wonderwoman292 @justreadingficsdontmindme @thehuiabird @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @zemosimp420 @kadeuuijib @lieutenantn @neoarchipelago @cable-kenobi @edencherries @faustlyaccused @julyvegan @prestigious-tea @hannahbal-the-fannibal @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @competitivepomegranate @welcometothemxdhouse @flutterskies @rumblelibrary @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sky-writes-stuff @rhinestxn-e @davianos-blog @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @mywinterivy @the-webkinz-killer
35 notes · View notes
Daddy | Niki Lauda
Requested by anon
Gender neutral reader
Dedicated to @lieutenantn and @scuttle-buttle 💕💕
SMUT - This is... something 😏
He had you on your knees. This was already off to a good start for him. He liked seeing you like this for him. This is what you get for behaving the way you did today.
His little brat.
You looked up at him with a waiting gaze. You wanted him, needed him, but he warned you not to say a thing. He wanted to know how long he could keep you quiet for.
He knew you wouldn't last too long. You would be begging for him sooner or later.
He stood in front of you at the edge of the bed. He had noticed the way you had looked down at him.
"Do you want it?"
You nod enthusiastically, still trying to hold back on using your voice. He grins, chuckling at how hard you were trying.
You bite your lip as you out and lightly brush your hand against his cock. His breath hitches as you toy with him.
He should have known you would play games back. He glares down at you, placing his hands on your shoulders.
"Do you want it?" He asks again, this time a little more harshly.
Oh. Oh. What did you call him?
"Say that again."
He pushes you down on the bed and pins you there. He hovers over you, his piercing eyes flickering between your gaze. Within seconds his lips are on yours, hungry to taste you.
It was the little things you did that riled him up. You could be so infuriating sometimes.
He pulls away and lets go of you.
"Get on your hands and knees."
He doesn't think he has seen you move so fast. You get on your hands and knees eagerly, leaning back enough to rub your ass against him.
That just awards you with a hard slap across the ass.
You only seem to like that.
Niki is done playing nice with you. Well, as nice as he ever would allow himself to be with you. He doesn't even wait before pushing himself into you harshly.
You didn't even need to beg for him.
His hands settled on your hips as he snaps harshly against you. The noise you make just urges him.
You ignore that command and moan further as he continues to thrust sharply behind you. His fingers dig into your flesh, but that's exactly what you want.
You wanted him to be rough.
"You like this?"
He almost snarls in annoyance, but there is one way to keep the upper hand. He stops all movements, keeping his dick inside of you, but just sitting there.
He hears your whine.
You try to wiggle your ass to get some friction, but the grip on your hips is a warning to stop.
You grin at the name. He doesn't call you that often. At least, not out loud. You knew he called you that in his head.
"Why? When I misbehave, you give me what i want~"
"Not any more. If you misbehave, I'll pull out and leave you begging."
You frown. That was the last thing you wanted.
"Fine, I behave."
His grip slackened as you stopped your wriggling. You smile when he thrusts back into you again and again, keeping that harshness he had before.
He liked being harsh with you.
You could take him. You knew how to handle Niki Lauda, which is something very people were capable of, on or off the track.
His pace picks up the longer you remain quiet. When you behave, he really spoils you.
He grunts spur you on. You're clutching the sheets below you and tipping your head back. He doesn't scold you this time as you moan.
Heck, he let's one out himself.
He can't be any physically closer to you, but if could, he would try. Niki is so deep inside you, you have no coherent thoughts.
Every snap of his hips sends you over the edge further. His hands grab you everywhere they can reach. It's when he leans over to press a kiss to your shoudlerblade where you really let go.
His soft lips brush against your skin. It's the softest touch he has given you tonight.
It's over with a snap of his hips though.
It's with a few more rapidly sharp snaps of his hips that you truly let go. He follows almost immediately after. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder as he releases within you.
His arms snake around you as he holds you like that against him, letting himself empty within you.
Your bratty behaviour today really worked him up, and you were happy with the pay off. Niki was really able to let go tonight.
You'll try even harder next time.
You can only imagine what he would do to you if you really pissed him off.
"Thank you, daddy."
"You're on thin ice... brat."
@ajeff855 @agent-laufeyson @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @luna-is-on-mars @wilder-fangirl @belle82devart @hb8301 @stardancerluv @killeromanoff @cathrin2405 @charistory @sleepyflutist18 @supercharged-tatertot @belle82devart @sexyundeadtrash @realremyd @goddessofmischief03 @myybebe @safiakillspop @scuttle-buttle @viviace @shura-gorl @fictionlandslanddreams @ay0nha @fictionlandslanddreams @anteroom-of-death
59 notes · View notes
I need to work on my Niki wips today
3 notes · View notes
Of course, do not feel obligated to, but perhaps soft papa!Zemo caring for a sick little - >:P
Please as if I could resist...we know how much I love soft papa!Zemo
It started with a dull headache, followed by a dry throat before the soreness set in. By the early evening, you had a full blown cold and you were feeling terrible. You wiggled beneath your blankets on the bed, pulling your favorite stuffed rabbit, Bramble, against your chest. Usually you were hosting a tea party before dinner and when you hadn’t come to collect him for his attendance, Helmut poked his head curiously inside your room. A soft frown crossed his face when he found you buried under your blankets.
“Little lamb?” he asked softly as he sat on the edge of your bed and gently patted his hand around until he found the little lump you made under the covers.
“Papa, don’t feel good,” you whined.
“I’m sorry to hear that, my little one, why don’t you come out and let Papa take care of you?” he cooed softly.
You didn’t need him to tell you twice as you wiggled out from under the covers and crawled into his lap. You wrapped your very warm arms around his neck and snuggled your sweaty face into his neck.
“Oh my little lamb, you’re very warm, let’s get you comfy and maybe a popsicle,” he said as he rubbed your back, getting you into your favorite set of pj’s that had the zebras on them.
You spent the rest of the evening in the big bed, right in Zemo’s lap with a cherry popsicle in one hand for your throat. He had a cup of tea cooling on the night stand for you to have later. He was even letting you watch endless cartoons, when he usually liked to limit how much television you consumed.
“Come on little lamb, just a few sips,” he encouraged as he lifted the cup to your lips, helping you take a few slow sips of the tea.
“No more Papa,” you pouted, lips stained red from the popsicle.
“Ok, ok, you did very well, let’s try to get some rest now,” Helmut encouraged.
“Story time, papa?” you asked with soft eyes and he nodded.
“Anything for my little lamb,” he smiled and cradled you in his arms while he told you the story of sleeping beauty which was your favorite.
You fell asleep in his arms about halfway through, your hand clutching at his soft black shirt.
“I love you very much, my little lamb,” he whispered before he kissed the top of your head and held you in his arms all night long.
19 notes · View notes
I have a request if you want to: Zemo learns that his significant other has bad dreams about something that happened to them as a child and wants to bring them comfort. Perhaps he can relate.
This got a little angsty, I hope you don't mind!
You broke out in a sweat as you scooted up against the pillow, drawing your knees to your chest, taking slow shallow breaths. It had been awhile since you had one of these nightmares, but today had been particularly trying and you had spent most of it without Helmut at your side. It had left you deep in the recess of your mind, feeling fear and abandonment. That one instance from your childhood playing repeatedly in your brain. It had been more than just one, but this particular incident had settled deep in your memory, and you could never seem to let go of it.
“Y/n?” Helmut whispered softly as he reached over to turn on the light then sat up in bed next to you.
“S….sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” you whispered. Your face was pressed into your knees, chest heaving softly as the tears rolled down your cheeks.
“I’m glad you did, because now I’m very worried about you,” he said gently, one hand sliding over your back, gathering you close in his arms.
You let him shift your body so you were resting against his chest, face snuggled into the crook of his neck.
“If you want to talk, I’m happy to listen,” he reminded you kindly, rocking you a bit in his arms.
You gave a little nod, not quite ready to do so just yet. You let a few more tears fall before sitting up and wiping at your face.
“I had a nightmare,” you admitted.
“Those happen,” he assured you kindly, the silk of his pajamas felt cool against your skin.
“I like to think I got over some of the bad childhood memories,” you admitted.
“They are hard to shake,” Helmut offered, fingers gently rubbing your scalp.
“You were gone most of the day,” you whispered.
“I know, I’m sorry, my love. You know I always come back, yes? I won’t leave you alone,” he assured you.
“I try my best to believe it….I wandered that park for hours until they realized they had left me,” you sniffled.
He hugged you tighter against him. “I would notice, my love." He had his own childhood traumas, but kept very tight lipped over them.
You swiped your hand under your nose. “Don’t want to be alone, Helmut,” you admitted.
“You’ll never be alone. No matter what, I’ll always find my way back to you.”
You wanted to believe him, but the nagging pit in your stomach wasn’t so sure, but for now, you would choose to believe
29 notes · View notes
Young Helmut Zemo x Reader
Summary: You’ve been betrothed and you seek out comfort from your best friend Helmut
Helmut’s heart aches for you, aches to take the pain away. He would do anything to switch places so he could be the one to bear the emotions coursing through you.
He wishes that it were him being betrothed to you, and not the strange young man you’ve never met before. More than anything, he wishes that he had the courage to openly express his utter adoration for you.
Maybe then you wouldn’t be sitting in his room with tears staining your cheeks, your eyes puffy and your small hiccups shattering his heart.
If only he wasn’t a coward.
“Oh draga, I am so sorry,” he coos softly, his arms wrapping around you and tucking your head into his chest.
Your stomach tightens, more tears flowing at his words. You cling onto his shirt, burying your nose into the fabric in an attempt to remember his scent, the dark spice that you’ve grown to love.
Helmut’s warmth envelops you, his rapidly pounding heart soothing you. He knows he shouldn’t be holding you like this, especially since you are to be married to another, but fuck tradition.
One hand rubs a comforting pattern along your spine, the other tangling in your hair and keeping you pressed to him. He almost hates how perfect you mould into him, he used to always believe that you were made for him.
Oh, how he shouldn’t be using that sweet endearment that he’s always called you throughout childhood.
“I know this is hard, believe me, it’s tearing me apart seeing you like this,” he starts, unsure if his words are a wise choice. “But they are a good person, and as much as you can’t see anything right now, you might grow to love them, and that’s okay.”
His voice strains as he tries to act composed, when on the inside he’s slowly breaking down at the thought of you falling in love with someone other than him.
“I can never fall in love with them,” you mumble into his chest, his shirt drenched with your tears.
Leaning his head back, Helmut strokes your hair. “You don’t know that,”
“My heart already belongs to someone else.”
Twice, in the same night, Helmut Zemo’s heart crumbles. How had he not known? How could he foolishly believe he had a chance of a future with you, when you want someone else.
His lips part as he doesn’t know what to say, blinking away the tears pricking in the corner of his eyes. Clenching his jaw, Helmut gazes out the window of his bedroom in an attempt to control himself.
After a moment when he doesn’t say anything, you hesitantly lift your head. Your heart constricts at the sight of him, rapidly hitting your rib cage.
In the last couple of months, Helmut has begun to grow his beard and allow his hair to fall below his forehead. It’s a look that pains you with how attractive you find him, dreaming about tangling your hands through his locks and what his stubble would feel like pressed against your face.
What it would feel like to graze your flesh and rub it raw as he brings you to the brink, over and over.
How you wish your parents would betroth you to Helmut instead. Now, you have to watch him fall in love from afar, unable to do anything.
He feels your gaze, slowly turning to look down at you. “I had no idea,” he whispers, not completely trusting his voice.
You can’t resist chuckling softly. “Of course you didn’t, you wouldn’t know if a snake bit you on the ass.”
“Hey,” he scowls in offence, his stomach coiling at the laugh you produce. He’ll never get tired of hearing your laughter. “Who are they?”
He prepares for the name, ready to feign happiness that someone else has managed to capture your attention.
You swallow, the blood rushing to your ears. “You.”
It’s barely a whisper, but he catches it. His heart stops, his body freezing underneath you. Did he hear you right? “Me?”
Nodding your head, the fear of rejection terrifying you. “It’s always been you, Helmut.”
A shaky breath slips past his lips as he looks at you with relief, his skin burning with passion and excitement. You love him.
They love me.
The hand that was once in your hair, now gently cups your cheek, his thumb grazing your jaw. “You can’t marry them,” he confesses.
“Helmut,” you start, a fresh set of tears brimming.
“I love you.”
The first tear falls, his thumb brushing it away. You dart between his beautiful brown eyes that lure you in and refuse to let go, unable to believe your ears.
“I love you, mein schatz, and I want to be the one to marry you, to be the one waiting for you at the altar and saying ‘I do,’ and planning our future together.”
“I want that too,” you whisper, your hands clutching his shirt and creasing the expensive fabric.
“Yeah?” He repeats, leaning his forehead against your own and gazing into you with nothing but pure love and passion.
You nod, slowly trailing your hands up to the nape of his neck. “Good, because your mine now, draga, and I’m never letting you go.” He promises, flickering down to your lips for a heartbeat.
Instinctively you dart your tongue out, dampening them slightly. Helmut inches forward ever so slightly, his breath fanning your cheeks. He wants to give you chance to pull away, but you don’t.
Despite your racing heart and nerves, you tilt your head forward, feeling his lips ghost your own. Your lashes flutter against your skin as Helmut closes the gap, kissing you gently.
His lips are as soft as you imagined, pressing against yours delicately, despite the tight grip he holds on your back. Almost like he fears you’ll slip through his fingers.
You tangle your hands through his hair, flexing around the strands. Helmut releases a muffled groan, the sound going straight between your legs. You shift, your legs resting on either side of his lap and allowing easier access to deepen the kiss.
It feels natural, like you and Helmut were made to be together. He roams your body in disarray, his fingertips pressing into your skin and his tongue swiping across your bottom lip.
Parting your lips, you moan at the contact of his tongue invading your mouth, exploring you in a way no one ever has. Your skin ignites with heat, an ever-growing need pooling in your stomach as the kiss intensifies.
Giving in to your desires, you glide your palms down to his beard, lightly scratching and at the same time, rolling your hips against him. Helmut whimpers, slowly guiding your movements as he desperately craves the feeling of you.
Your chest heaves, the room filling with your pants and moans. You’ve heard about the wonders of kissing, but you never expected it to be like this.
It’s truly breathtaking, your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen and your brain clouded with nothing but thoughts of Helmut.
Reluctantly, he pulls back, gazing up at you with his dilated pupils and dishevelled state. His hair falls around his eyes, his cheeks rosy and his lips swollen. Much like yourself.
“What do we do now?” You ask breathlessly, your fingers lightly playing with his beard.
“You marry me.”
67 notes · View notes
hii! i saw your requests for headcanons are open, if you’re comfortable with it what do you think Laszlo would be like with a reader that has a manipulative and abusive mother?
Warnings: Manipulation, physical abuse
- You were an enigma to Dr. Kreizler. A being shrouded in mystery who he despairingly wanted to untangle, to lay out what made you, before him and place all the pieces back together like a game. You were one of his patients and while he was used to patients not being open to him first, he could usually observe what the issue was for them, simply by the way they acted, the way they portrayed themselves.
- Yet you were a tabula rasa. A blank slate. He could neither observe you nor make assumptions about you because he'd have no proof. He asked you a copious amount of questions, attempting to figure you out but every answer in return was lacklustre. You gave away nothing to him, barely answering his questions with more than five words. And it annoyed him. Oh yes. But it also thrilled him.
- He denied ever seeing this mystery as a game, but he could not deny the rush of excitement he felt when he thought he was beginning to figure you out. The endless hours he spent in his office pouring over books attempting to see if they gave any inclination about what could be the problem. He found it gripping.
- You had submitted yourself to him as a patient, and he agreed to take you on, but once he started interviewing you, it's like you choose to drawback. Afraid of him. He tried to show you he meant you no harm, physically or mentally and he believed you were starting to come around but the process was slow.
- However, Laszlo's thrill of the hunt could come to an end quicker than he expected one sorry afternoon. He had invited you out to the opera for the evening, knowing John would not want to attend for the third time this month, plus he believed it might have had a good impact on you. Seeing him outside of a professional setting might make you feel more open to him. He knew you originally came from an upper-class position in life and would appreciate the opera as much as him.
- You were hesitant to attend but after some persuasion, you appeared at the hall on Laszlo's arm. He guided you into his box and initiated you in a polite conversation until the Opera started. He was right in understanding you would enjoy it. While you were focused on the stage before you, often his eyes sneaked over to yours, observing how happy you finally seemed to be able to watch it. He found himself overcome with happiness for finally figuring out a way to make you happy.
- Happiness was short-lived, however. During the intermission Laszlo took you out of the box to fetch some drinks and intermingle with the crowd and that was where everything kicked off.
- "Y/n! Oh my darling, I've missed you so much. Where have you been? You must have been cohorst into running away like that. Never mind darling, mothers, here now to take you home"
- Your face turned pale as the shrill voice called out to you, dread filling your soul. Instantly you let go of Laszlo's arm in an attempt to hurry through the crowds to get away but a harsh grip takes hold of your wrist, roughly pulling you back.
- "Darling, where are you going?"
- "Get off me!" you instantly shouted attempting to tug your arm away from her but for an old lady, her grasp held tight. Laszlo was instantly beside you though, confused, but glared at the woman as he noticed the harsh grip she had on you. "Madam, let go of her arm"
- The woman's ice-cold eyes finally grace onto Laszlo's and they narrow at him. "Who are you? Were you the one who took my child away from me!? I'm friends with the commissioner you know, I could have you thrown away for less"
- "You have no possession over your adult child, if she chooses to leave you that is of her own free will and you will not have any other choice but to accept" Laszlo seethed "Now let go of her"
- "She belongs to me!" the woman roared and the Laszlo observed the way you flinched at the sound and it was as if a switch in his mind was flicked. Finally, the last place in the puzzle he was playing had fitted in to reveal the whole picture. The piece he had been missing. The mother. In just a matter of moments, Laszlo could see how manipulative the woman was, trying to twist everything into showing her within a good light, from the way she held you and the way you flinched it was apparent abuse, much like his own father, took place within the household. Anger flooded over him for what the mother had put you through, for all the people around you who we're pretending to ignore this escapade, for not realising sooner what the problem was.
- "Laszlo, is there currently a problem?" Laszlo spun around and saw Commissioner Theodore standing behind him having noticed the fiasco happening. Briefly glancing at the mother she seems to make no remark at him being here and Laszlo deducts she had been lying through her teeth about knowing the commissioner.
- "Yes, rather Commissioner, this lady here claims to know you, and is attempting to abduct this woman here" Laszlo didn't try to hide the smile that appeared on his lips as the woman's mouth opened in shock, realising she had been caught lying.
- "I know no such woman" Theodore resorts, cautiously looking at the woman. "You'll pay for this" the woman turns to hiss to you and glares at Laszlo before storming off to try and regain even an ounce of dignity that she had left.
- Shakingly Laszlo took your arm within his again and lead you out of the Opera, knowing you wouldn't want to stay longer. He enters the calash with you, intending to take you home but within the calash, you finally break down and tell Laszlo all about the problems your mother had caused you, all she had made you feel and how worried you were about what Laszlo would have thought which was why you had never told him, and in return, Laszlo admitted to you his own dark past with his mother, and together within the privacy of the calash, both of your secrets were shown and no longer was an author of mystery surrounding the two of you.
TAGS: @shrekboobies @arianalilyblack @wonderwoman292 @justreadingficsdontmindme @thehuiabird @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @zemosimp420 @lieutenantn @neoarchipelago @cable-kenobi @edencherries @faustlyaccused @julyvegan @prestigious-tea @hannahbal-the-fannibal @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @competitivepomegranate @welcometothemxdhouse @flutterskies @rumblelibrary @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sky-writes-stuff @rhinestxn-e @davianos-blog @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @mywinterivy @xxlumos @cathana2264 @ajokeformur-ray @nev3rfound @unbeatablecurlgirl
106 notes · View notes
Brühl Characters Masterlist
13 notes · View notes
Laszlo Kreizler Masterlist
Brühl characters prompts
Silence is loud
7 notes · View notes
Niki Lauda Masterlist
Brühl character prompts
Payback - SMUT
Daddy - SMUT
Niki Lauda shorts:
14 notes · View notes
Brühl Boy Band Masterlist
Slow dancing - Part 1
Slow dancing - Part 2
Giving you their jacket
Taking care of you when drunk
Having a nightmare
Asking them to cuddle
Catching them staring
You get jealous
Telling them you're pregnant
Showing them affection
38 notes · View notes
I've also added my in-progress Spotify playlist to Beyond the Checkered Flag to the masterlist in case anyone wanted it.
4 notes · View notes