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averagehorrorgirl · 4 months

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Angel Wings (pt.2)

Paring: Zemo x reader

Summary: As an ex Avenger you remain hidden in your mountain top oasis away from the world that was so empty to you, so it was rather strange when none other then James aka Bucky asks for your help, of course curiosity gets the better of you and you agree.

Warnings: smut, thats all. Just porn.

Part one

A sharp inhale escaped Zemo, who wasted no time in kissing you back. Injured wings or not, you wanted him so terribly. Your hands moved against his chest, desperate and flighty. What started out as a more tender kiss quickly escalated into raw passion, lips tangled together, hands flying and scurrying to new places. Zemo stopped, momentarily breaking the kiss as his hands stop around your jaw as his thumbs caress your cheeks. “Are you not scared? Distrusting?” He asks you quietly, it was barely a whisper.

His hands would come to rest on either side of your throat, thumbs pressed against your jaw, caressing against your soft skin. Open-mouthed, you brazenly kissed him back, hands flying to the hem of his turtleneck this time around. You gave it a brusque tug, loosening it enough to where your fingers graced his waist.

The Baron murmured into your ear, teeth grazing against the sensitive shell. As innocuous as the question sounded, his sultry tone sent tingles up your spine, excitement spiking within your gut. Heat began to pool between your thighs, a familiar sensation that indicated your arousal. With another engaging kiss, you felt his tongue threaten to slip into your parted lips, a breathy moan eliciting from you. Zemo was a vigorous lover, passionate as ever — he gave you everything you wanted and more. A dance and clash of both tongues and mouths resulted in a stalemate, with him biting upon your lower lip, that hand squeezing a bit upon your throat. “Undress me.” Your voice cut through, as sharp a knife. You wanted it to be slower this time, your gaze lascivious as could be. The sultry edge to your voice certainly gave Zemo pause, but he began to obey without an objection. His hands curled into your shirt, mindful of the location of your wound as he removed it, tugging it over your head. His lips pressed themselves to your neck, aiming to leave a hickey in an unoccupied space. “Look at you, minze,” Zemo purred, kissing your jugular with a devilish smirk. “Gaining your confidence, I see.” The Baron knew exactly what he was doing now, one hand slipping from your throat to your pants. “How long will it last?” He hummed, fingers curling into the waistband. Not a moment was wasted as he tugged the garment down, working them along the length of your legs. You assisted, kicking them off and discarding them elsewhere. Zemo would never forget the look upon your face when he sank down to his knees before you, lifting your legs up onto his shoulders. It was a complete and utter surprise, coupled with adoration. The flush of scarlet that rose to your skin, spreading from visage to collarbone was a most delightful sight to him. Warm lips met your inner thighs, showering them in tender kisses to begin with. Spreading your legs just a bit further, the Baron comfortably accommodated himself between them, face nestled at the cleft between your thighs. Your fingers immediately maneuvered themselves into his hair, back arching as his tongue made contact with your slit. One hand would creep up along your thigh, dipping down a bit to rub slow, steady circles against your clit. A breathy moan tore past your mouth — and then you remembered Sam sleeping outside of these doors. Faced with yet another challenge of how quiet you could be, Zemo’s tongue would split past your folds, greedily lapping up whatever nectar you’d given him. It would flick against your clit, thumb stopping the circling of your bud in order to tease you, shifting your legs upon his shoulders. Your breath hitched within your throat, and what would’ve been a myriad of flustered, pleasured noises were lowered to mere needy, desperate whimpers. You shifted, bringing your hips down onto his mouth. You could almost feel that smirk, hand clamping tightly around one of your thighs as he nudged it apart once more. Without pause and with vigor, Zemo devoured you, tongue moving from flicks and long stripes to thrusting against you, breath hot as it fanned out upon your inner thighs. His thumb promptly returned to provide you with that sensation against your clit even still, his pace having climbed from slow and steady to something more intense.Struggling to steady yourself against the rim of the tub, you nearly squealed when one digit slipped inside of you. His tongue lashed against your clit, exchanging places, one pleasure to the next. You were red in the face, eyes closed, teeth biting down upon your lower lip as you struggled to contain your noises. There was an excitement and relentlessness as he dragged his tongue up the length of your cunt for yet another taste, enough to make you see stars. The feeling was explosive, a blazing fire set within the pit of your stomach. Your legs were trembling, quivering like leaves as Zemo pushed one more time, lips pursing around your clit. It sent you over the edge, writhing and squirming as he attempted to hold you steady. You reached your pinnacle, orgasm hitting you hard. The mess you made was likely something embarrassing, but Zemo’s tongue would correct some of the damage, more or less. When his face emerged from between your legs, his hawkish stare had returned. He’d wipe off his mouth with the back of his hand, a twinkle within his eye as he eased you back down onto the floor. Your poor legs were shaking. “Irresistible,” Zemo purred, hands moving to your chest in order to remove your brassiere. The garment proved to be nothing more than a small obstacle, being flung with carelessness toward the floor. “You taste delightful.” He was teasing and toying with you now, smirking impishly as he felt your hands move to his belt. You were desperate to see him, practically craving the skin upon skin contact. “You’re slow,” You mumbled, unable to withhold your playful grin as you tugged his belt off. Zemo tugged you into his lap, allowing you that sensation you’d been yearning for all this time. Breathless and speechless, you draped your arms across his shoulders, fingers idly combing through his hair. The closeness was addictive, and you jumped a bit when his hand brazenly grabbed at your backside, lips twitching into a smirk. The pad of his thumb traced across your lower lip again, a familiar gesture that always filled you with butterflies. You could feel his length pressed snugly against your thigh, and as you deliberately released his thumb from your mouth, lips were clashing again. His hands grabbed at your hips, lifting you up slightly, water sloshing around a bit as the two of you clamored for friction, gliding against one another. Zemo swallowed your wanton moan with a heated kiss, continuing to maneuver you until his cock pressed against your slit. Biting upon your lower lip, you finally lowered yourself with a sudden force, causing the both of you to groan, faces pressed together. Zemo was smirking, though — he absolutely loved whatever it was you just did. Holding some measure of leverage over him, dangling it like a treat for a dog. Rolling your hips downwards, you felt his fingers direct your face towards his, lips clashing again with a fury. He immediately resumed prior dominance, biting at your lower lip, guiding you down onto his cock. With one hand splayed against your hips, the other came to trace along your spine, caresses that made you shiver in delight. The rhythm was slow at first, initially awkward for you, but Zemo was confident in leading you into a more comfortable pace. Another crash of your hips drove him deeper inside of you, the action setting your nerves ablaze. Of course, your lips didn’t stay tangled together for too long, either. Tangled against your hips, that wandering hand slipped to grab a handful of your ass this time, rough and unyielding as he began to bring you down with each lift of your hips. A strangled whimper escaped you, and the fullness you’d felt made you dizzy with desire. It turned from something intense to something rough and fervent, water becoming a bit turbulent. Bodies were snug together, and Zemo’s mouth hadn’t left your chest just yet, lips capturing one of your nipples. Zemo’s impish smirk from around your breast made you tense up, lips falling apart just slightly. You brought one hand to the back of his head, fingers threading throughout damp hair as your head lolled backwards, eyes fluttering shut. Your riding had eventually calmed down, to the point where him merely being inside of you was enough to drive you up the walls. As you tried to move again to get off, the Baron firmly held you in place, cock buried deep inside of you. Zemo began to move faster, developing a passionate, enthusiastic pace as his cock pumped in and out of you, leaving you awestruck and seeing stars. The hand that clutched underneath your jaw left you absolutely breathless, your gaze pleasantly half-lidded and mouth agape. One of your legs secured itself around his hips, a squeak leaving you as his teeth skimmed across the sensitive flesh around your jugular. Lips clashed again, swallowing up any noises as his cock buried itself inside of you. Your back arched slightly, Zemo’s mouth assaulting your neck and collarbone again. A small sliver of you was terrified that Sam or Bucky would wake up, but you were attempting to keep tabs beyond the curtain. With another perfect roll of his hips, his length drove into you again and again, slow yet buried completely. Muffling and suppressing noise was the hardest thing for you, toes curling in delight.Seeing stars, you became loose, body twitching and shuddering as you came. Zemo happened to follow suit, the grip upon your throat loosening enough, your faces pressed closely together. A thin layer of perspiration had developed upon you, even if you were cold from being naked. Coming down from the intensity of your orgasm, the Baron pulled out of you with a lewd pop, hastily collecting himself and his appearance.

You smile at the Baron wrapping your wings around him as if making a protective wall around him and the world. Just for a moment it was just you and him, on the balcony tucked away from the world.

“I think I love you.”

#zemo x y/n #zemo x reader #zemo x you #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x y/n #marvel #marvel x reader #bucky #the falcon and the winter solider

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undercoverpena · 2 years

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Interesting (ii)

interesting (i)

Baron/Helmut Zemo x Fem!Reader | 1.5k | Smut, you’re warned — not promising it’s the best, but I’m rusty with smut.

[gif not mine]

+++++++++++++

You should leave the room.

Cheeks warm, thighs pressing together. All signs you shouldn’t have even replied. Should have kept your mouth shut.

But you’ve already gone too far.

You could argue you did that when you kissed him to appease Selby. Not needing to sell it as well as you did, not needing to slide your tongue into his mouth or let his hands wander, scorching your skin.

The same way his eyes are right now. Them burning into you, making your throat dry, desperately needing to slide your thighs together because… you want him.

You want him to rip your clothes from you, to leave marks on your skin. You want him to pull on your hair and throw you over his shoulder and take you to his room.

Thoughts you shouldn’t have about the man you helped break out of prison. Thoughts that shouldn’t be summoned about a man who was dangerous.

And yet, you didn’t fear him. Not even a little bit.

You wonder if he expects you to leave, to shout at him.

A better version of you would.

An even better version wouldn’t have said anything, to begin with. You’d have taken the drink and then excused yourself.

Not give into your lust. Because that’s all this was. Lust.

He’s a criminal—a man who was able to impersonate your friend, who blew up a building. Whether spurred by loss and grief or not, he still did it.

It’s why you should leave the room.

Bury your face into your pillow and get yourself off. Not hope he’ll do it for you. Because you shouldn’t let him touch you.

“It’s not too late to run from me,” he says, wringing his hands in front of you.

Somehow, it just makes you want him more.

The challenge. The confidence. The fact it’s frowned upon.

Not helped by the fact he keeps staring at you. Likely undressing you, his words running through your mind.

It’s then you stand up.

Mustering some confidence. He doesn’t move when you stand up. Not even when you stop in front of him. He doesn’t reach for you, giving you a land chance to bow out, to walk away.

You don’t take it.

Instead sliding the hem of your skirt up with your fingers, sliding a thigh either side of his. Watching his eyes flash, him not taking them from your face as his lips twitch.

The warmth of his palm against your thighs almost makes you rock your hips. His aftershave, musky, and wooden, hits your nose as a strand of hair falls over his forehead hearing him clear his throat.

“It’s not too late to ask me to leave…” you tease, tracing your bottom lip with your teeth. “If you don’t think this will be interesting…”

He smirks, ever so slightly as his finger slides up to your hip.

“I was interested the moment my eyes landed on you.”

Your lips curl, eyes flicking from his lips to his eyes, watching him do the same as your body moves closer.

“Such a charmer,” you whisper.

Your hand finding the back of his head, nails digging into his hair as your mouth latches onto his.

He tastes like a mix of sugar and whisky, a muffled vibration as he groans fuck against your lips. You don’t fight it when he pulls you closer by your hip, desperately wishing his other hand slid further north on your thigh.

Your stomach knotting, warmth and need spreading through you. Suddenly desperate for friction.

Even more so as your body inches closer to him until there’s no space between the two of you.

The fur of his coat tickling your skin.

Practically feeling his heart thundering against yours as you lose yourself in him.

You welcome the way his mouth nips at the skin under your jaw, sliding his tongue up to the spot under your ear as you roll your hips.

For someone who has been locked up, and as someone who didn’t know you, he knew you. Letting you rock ever so slightly, his hand urging you to as you feel the outline of his arousal through his slacks.

And you let a whimper escape, just as both his hands snap to your hips, halting your movements. A stern look meeting yours, one you were prepared to protest.

Until he moves you.

Flipping you so your spine is against the sofa, hovering over you. For a second, you’re disorientated. Feeling your own lips remain parted, eyes staring up at him, frozen. Rendered useless as his eyes darken as he drinks you in.

“I should say,” he says in a low growl, “If there’s a likeliness that you’ll regret this, I implore you to tell me to stop now, Liebling.”

Watching his eyes trace your face, his finger sliding over your cheek, dragging it until it’s tugging on the bottom of your lip.

Your tongue peeks out, circling the tip of it.

Hoping it’s enough of a sign. A silent plea for him not to stop as he inhales, before clearing his throat.

“You’ve piqued my interest, Zemo. I need to know if you’re all talk.”

He laughs.

Low. Dark. One which makes you wet as he stares at you hungrily. As if he’s been hiding his thoughts from you until now.

“I assure you I’m not.”

You arch your brow, ready to speak. But, he slides two fingers in your mouth, pinning your tongue down.

“Shh,” he whispers darkly, “You’ll need your voice, Liebling. To beg me. To moan my name.”

Your cocky response falls from your mind. Mouth parting in surprise.

“Because I’m not going to stop until you’re calling me Helmut… and I suspect,” he continues in the same tone, pulling his fingers back, “It’ll take me making you come at least three times before you’ll even consider calling me anything other than the enemy.”

Fuck.

Almost choking on your own breath as his lips slide into a smirk.

And you guess he thinks he’s won. All set to reconnect his lips back to yours.

But, you smirk, before adding, “I hope you fuck as much as you talk.”

He smirks, but less cocky.

And then he snaps—his mouth against yours, groaning as he pulls your hips towards him. The two of you kissing with an intensity you imagine both of you have been running from, so much so, you groan against this lips.

Your nails claw through his hair, his hand snaking in between the two of you, making your mouth fall open as he slides his mouth down your neck. The feel of his touch in two places making you whimper.

Because you’re pinned, his body keeping you in place. Not able to move, or shift, to gain the upper hand.

And then he slides his fingers over your underwear, silently meeting your eyes, checking for permission—one you quickly give.

Your hand finds his shoulder as he slides his fingers inside your damp, silk underwear. His lips sliding into a devious smirk, ghosting his touch over you until you’re about to plead—to beg. Before he slides his fingers inside of you, filling and stretching you as your head falls back to the cushion.

And everything else around the two of you is forgotten.

Your brain forgetting you should hate him.

Just needing him, desperately craving more that he quickly gives you. Focusing on not moaning his name as he curls his fingers inside of you. His thumb swiping over your clit as you whimper.

You try to pull him down, needing to bury your moans against his lips. But he just watches. Eyes glinting, shimmering as he does so.

Occasionally teasing you by ghosting his lips over yours as you whimper more, and more.

“Sweet, sweet, Liebling. How long have you been craving someone to do this?” he whispers, darkly. His nose tracing your cheek as he inserts another finger. “A while I guess. I can tell. You’re so wet. So responsive. Look at me.”

And you do.

You meet his burning eyes with all you have. Not able to tear them away from him, unsure how you’ve let him command such power over you already.

“Is this enough? Or do you want more?”

Your mouth contorts, shapes and words want to blossom. Your mind rendering useless as you near your release.

Only able to mumble a mmm, wanting to say more.

Wanting to beg for his cock, wanting him to turn you over and fuck you until you forget your name.

And from the expression on his face, he can tell.

Zemo touching you with more precision, as though he has an end goal in mind, knowing he’s doing this to you.

You knowing no one else can do this to you. Hasn’t done so, as he said, in a while.

“For now, this is all you’ll have. Even if I want to fuck you on this sofa, on this floor. Even if I want you,” he continues, his free hand cupping your chin. “The wait is half the fun. Isn’t it?”

Your gasping, so close and he must know it from the sounds falling from your lips.

“I want those three, Liebling…”

Because even if you want it, even if you need it, you’re fighting him.

“So you need to let go now, before they’re back—your friends,” he adds, his eyes burning into you as you fight how good it feels. “Unless you want them to see you like this. Being a whore for me.”

“Fuck,” you groan. Swallowing his name. “Plea–please.”

Not wanting to think it, never mind mumble it. His name so close to the tip of your tongue.

His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing small circles as you clench your eyes shut. Your back arching, fingers digging into his side as he twists his fingers inside of you, hitting that spot you’ve been internally pleading for him to touch.

“You should give me the first one now, Liebling.”

And you do.

Your eyes shutting, your head swirling with pleasure. Your back arching into him, your moan filling the room as he continues his ministrations until your hand tries to push him away.

But, he only stops when your hand unclenches from his side, and then his hand falls from between your thighs. Pressing a pleased, chaste kiss to your lips as your eyes slowly blink open as you watch him stand, shaking his coat from his shoulders before folding it slowly.

Your eyes falling to his bulge, before studying his movements as he places the coat down. Adjusting himself as he licks his lips.

And then he pulls you up, catching you as you almost fall on shaky legs. Barely recovered from what he’s just done to you.

“Two to go, Liebling.” Your chest rises and falls, heat blossoming across your cheeks. His knuckles brushing your cheeks. “Now, go to my room, and strip.”

Clearing your throat, you suddenly find your voice again. Brain coming back to you. “And if I don’t?”

Helmut slowly retracts his hand, before pulling you flush against him by your hips, nose against your ear.

Feeling how hard he is. How much he wants you.

Ignoring the little quake in your legs even with him holding you.

He pushes your hair from your cheek, smiling as if he hadn’t of just made you see stars. “I’ll strip you here myself, and let your friends find you cock-drunk and spent on this expensive, but dusty floor.”

His hand retracting, burning his brown eyes into you as he smirks.

“You’ve got until the count of th—“

You move.

Your fingers are undoing your zip, hearing him chuckle—hearing his footsteps. Knowing he’s following close behind—heart in your throat, excitement bubbling in your stomach.

Opening his door, stepping through as you pull clothes from your body until cool air meets your skin. Turning to face him, eyes drinking you in.

And you’ve never felt hotter, never felt more attractive.

And then he slams the door shut behind him, his hands on you once again.

#Helmut Zemo #Helmut Zemo x reader #Helmut Zemo smut #baron zemo smut #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader smut #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x fem!reader #zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #zemo x fem!reader #zemo x you #zemo x y/n #daniel brühl x reader

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punemy-spotted · 10 months

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A Family Sleepover, Down in the Valley

It’s been about two years since I first wrote Dead Trees Like Lavender Fields, and the town of Bell’s Holler was born. I know it’s not quite the actual anniversary — I’m pretty sure that passed — but I want to celebrate anyway! I’ve missed the Valley, and I’ve missed y’all being a part of the Family. I’m excited to add more stories to the universe, talk lore and what-ifs, and in general get spooky with it.

As such, from now until my birthday on August 19, 2023, I am opening up my inbox to all manner of Valley-related things, including the following:

Seven Sentence Somedays: Send em an ask with a fluffy, smutty, or hurt/comfort prompt of your choice + any CE, SebStan, or other character listed below. You might just get a lore drop or bring out hidden ideas for a Valley-related story!

Hainted Headcanons: Got questions about the true name of Bell’s Holler or what it really means to be Green? Wanna know about your favorite Babe and who they are in the Valley — Agent of the Inner Dark, Guardian of the Gren, or somethin’ more besides? Curious about each story’s individual Reader and who they might be? Send an ask! Hainted Headcanons are more in-depth explorations of the world this Alternate Appalachia and the people living and shaping it.

Moodboard Minin’: If you know me, you know I love a good Moodboard and you know I love an excuse to make ‘em. Send me a request and I’ll put together a moodboard for a possible Valley-verse story, or even an alternate story for an existing Valley character!

Asks will be responded to on a rolling basis, to the best of my ability! Thank all of you for being here with me!

Current Members of the Valley-Verse

Steve Rogers — Glory, Amen

Bucky Barnes — Dead Trees like Lavender Fields

Sam Wilson — Company Property (TBA)

Ari Levinson — A Worthy Grave

Curtis Everett — Sixteen Tons (coming soon!)

Possible (Future) Members of the Valley-Verse

Charles Blackwood

Jake Jensen

Andy Barber

Lloyd Hansen

Ransom Drysdale

Helmut Zemo

Lee Bodecker

I’m tagging some moots who showed interest in the Valley-verse and associated fics, including my stalwart beloved @brandycranby. As always, I love you and thank you for being here!!!

Tagging: @iwannabekilledtwice; @boxofbonesfic; @wordywarriorwrites; @patzammit; @valhalla-kristin; @sanfransolomitatm; @professorrw; @chipilerendi; @biiskuitx; @hope-to-hell; @toozmanykids; @imanuglywombat; @caffiend-queen; @federalchickensoup; @mansaaay; @ccmarvelxx; @hallecarey1; @justile; @kuranes-12; @hotnmad;

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hope-to-hell · 1 year

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Winter’s bite. Helmut Zemo x Reader. Smut, bondage, s/m dynamics, brief wounds/broken bones, post-unsnapping. This is a conversation, a persuasion, an attack on dignity and a breaking-open of the hollows left inside those who were gone-then-not. Zemo has some trouble dealing with loss.

—-

Hey, yeah, listen. I know it’s been a while, and I guess maybe you’re not so thrilled to see me but here we are and you said talk, so I’m gonna talk and you’re gonna listen; maybe you’ll find those little tells you’re hoping for. There’s been all this running and hiding and yeah, sure, a little bit of dying— but don’t hold it against me. It’s like this: here one minute and gone the next, which doesn’t matter much because if you’re nothing then you’ve got nothing to worry about, ya dig?

Well. Until everyone and their dog gets unsnapped and suddenly you’re looking at your own shinbones all wet and sticky because you were thirty feet up the side of a building that doesn’t exist anymore. Listen, I didn’t want to see my own marrow and I know you don’t want to hear about it either, but I’m one of the lucky ones. Lot of people were falling out of the sky, you know. They came back but their airplanes didn’t. And there’s others, too: so many of us were in the wrong place all of a sudden, part of the miraculous rebirth for less than a heartbeat before dying in some stupid way or other.

Maybe we just should’ve stayed gone. Maybe then there’d be at least an ending even if there was never any closure, but like. Coming back has been this weird no-man’s-land where I’m legally dead, physically alive, and mentally still five years in the past. So yeah. Maybe bringing us back was a mistake. Z doesn’t agree, but then again he’s real close with loss; he wears it on his chest in bloody ribbons and he’ll tell you no no, nothing personal, don’t take it so hard when he’s stepping on your neck. ‘Course it’s personal, though. It always is with him: he’ll take your eye for a slight, and for losing a loved one? Christ, he’ll burn the world. Don’t make him angry, and for fucksake don’t take from him, because he’s got a long memory and a hell of a lot of imagination in the whole pain-and-suffering department.

So anyway. I’m laying there with pins in my legs and my ears all full of beep beep beep every time my vitals go a little wacky, and this motherfucker comes strolling in with a face like he’s filing taxes— you know, that neutral if I must with just a tinge of murder underneath— and all he says is hmm. No hi how are you, no thank the stars you’re safe, just that look. He’s gonna take whatever’s in his head and let it eat at him until it all comes pouring out, and when it does— oh, it’s really gonna be something.

Like now.

Do you know why you’re here? he’s asking, but it’s not a question, not really. It’s a trap. Not like there’s anything to do but see this through; he’s real fucking good with rope and he’s made sure to get the knots right over the most painful pressure points. And it’s cold; everything he says hangs solid in the air, like he could grab hold of his you were gone, you left and drive it deep, past bone and meat right down to where my heart’s beating hard enough to crack ribs, and listen. Listen. Fuck. I know maybe this part makes you feel all icky but you’re gonna hear it anyway. And hell, maybe it’ll get you feeling all antsy. Maybe you’ll be jerking off to this in the middle of the night. I don’t mind.

I just wanna make sure you know he waited til all my bones were knitted together, all those strands of shredded muscle repaired and revitalized— and I don’t want to see another treadmill as long as I live; I walked backwards on that fucking thing for hours— he waited with the patience of a thousand fallen saints so he could wake me up one midnight with his gloved hand heavy over my mouth and and his breath carrying ice into my ear. You are well, he said, like he was talking about the weather, but you know it’s always winter wherever he goes. You are well, you are whole, but through all those years there was a rift in the world in the shape of your flesh.

So, anyway. Buckle up, big guy; I know you’re desperate to know where he’s gone, and I know it’s more than anger, more than vengeance; you think I can’t see it but it’s all over your face. You’re not as good a liar as you ought to be after— well. Don’t let me get off track here, not when I’m about to get to the juicy part. Now, where was I? Right.

So there I am buck-ass naked— ha— with my knees going all pitted from kneeling on concrete, tied up tighter than anything, and he’s even got mirrors all around because you know how Z is. You know he wants you to see exactly what he’s doing to you from every angle but it’s more than that: this way he can see the effect of every little thing he does, every tiny detail he adds to make sure he’s got you exactly where he wants you to be. If I could move enough to look down, I bet I’d see rice all over the floor, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it was thousands of tiny garnets. Like I said, details. If he’s gonna make it hurt, you can bet he’ll do it beautifully.

Have you ever been fingered by a man in leather gloves? Listen. It’s— it’s a lot, especially when he’s crouched down right there with me, one hand wrapped around the ropes at my back and the other one two fingers deep and thrusting hard. No warmup, no preamble, just the sound of his boots, then that nasty spit-slicked do you understand grief? Have you felt the bile that chokes, or the bruises that bloom across your ribcage from the inside?

Five years. Maybe I can’t fathom it, but fuck can I ever feel it; the next time he moves that hand there’s another finger and he’s got to be spreading them wide as he can because between that and the leather I’m gonna split apart. Five years. Can you picture it? God, I hope you can. I hope you think about it later, when you’re alone and needing to get off so bad. Maybe I’ll think about you thinking about me and him, touching myself and feeling your eyes on me even from another room. Would you like that? Or would you like it better if I was bound, squirming and helpless, desperate for what I can’t have?

Either way, I want this right at the front of your mind: Zemo with his punishing hands, composure in shreds, pulling me apart from the inside and neither of us has any words left, just these snarls and whimpers all mixed together til it doesn’t matter who they’re coming from anymore. He made me come, of course he did; he ripped it right out of me with a twist and shove, every bruise tied together with this bright-burning silver thread.

You know I couldn’t help leaving; we’re alike in that regard, but has anyone ever given you what you’ve needed so badly since you came back? No. I can see it: you’re so full of guilt you haven’t earned, and sorrows you haven’t let yourself begin to feel. But you can take that rawness and put it to work; you’re a good man who got a bad deal and you have to know that. I see it; he sees it.

He’s on his way; any minute now those doors will open and he’ll be there with that half-smile, the one that says I’ve got a little secret; for all your efforts, you can’t find him until he wants to be found. You’ll see him dressed for the cold, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles of his left hand. It’ll look artless, casual, but you know what it’ll mean. He’ll make you an offer— and you really, really oughta take it. After all, I wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t worthwhile. And yeah, I know you were expecting to have to pry it out of me, maybe reach down deep for those parts of you that you wish you’d burned away, the parts of you that get answers out of tight lips, but here we are. Everything is on the table— well, not everything; there’s got to be something left for later, but I think you’ll find it in your favor— and everything I’ve said tonight is true.

It still aches, even now. I can still feel the stitching along the sides of his fingers, not to mention all those tiny pocked bruises on my knees, all those knots pressed deep, his coat buttons imprinted on my spine from where he fell against my back and let his words fall wetly on me. I will move heaven and earth to keep you here. You mustn’t doubt that. And I believe him, James. I really do.

#daniel brühl #baron zemo #helmut zemo #zemo #baron zemo fic #baron zemo smut #helmut zemo fic #helmut zemo smut #zemo fic #zemo smut #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #zemo x you #tfatws

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justsomerandomfanfic · 1 year

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Never Gonna Give You Up - Helmut Zemo X Female Reader

Title: Never Gonna Give You Up

Helmut Zemo X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Bucky, Sam, Sharon (Mentioned), Steve (Mentioned), Helmut's Family (Mentioned), and other TFATWS characters (Mentioned)

Requested by @futuristicyouthvoid! (Thank you for requesting!!!)

WC: 932 (sorry if it's a bit short)

Warnings: Agent Reader, follows plot sort of, Zemo loves to dance, slight Bucky X Sam, anxiety, nervousness, german nicknames (my darling), mentions Helmut's loss of family and home, baby angst, and fluff

You entered the club of vibing people, dancing to upbeat house music. The lights were low in the nightclub, but you could tell that it was packed as all clubs tend to be. You weaved past dancers, and to the bar where you spotted Bucky and Sam, they were staring off at the dancing, as you made your way to stand beside them.

"Why'd you call me here?" You called out to Sam loudly over the music, "You know how expensive Madripoor tickets are? This better be something important because that was an eighteen-hour plane ride."

Sam shrugged, "I'll pay you back," He said. "And try to be quiet, will you? Don't want our cover blown."

You rolled your eyes, "What cover? Will you tell me why you so desperately wanted me here for then?" You asked, glancing at Bucky as he continued to stare down at the dancers.

"We're trying to find out who has been recreating the Super Soldier serum," Sam spoke in your ear, before leaning away.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "That doesn't explain the club?"

"It's Sharon's. She's helping." He answered and your jaw dropped slightly.

"Sharon? Steve's old fling? Jesus." You muttered under your breath and Bucky turned his head towards you.

"She's going to help us with intel on Nagel." He spoke, before turning back to the dancers. You furrowed your eyebrows once more, turning to Sam.

"Why is Buck staring at the dance floor? If he so desperately wants a dance partner... Why aren’t you two dancing?" You asked Sam, gesturing between him and Bucky.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Bucky doesn't want to dance. He's watching Zemo, so he doesn't get any ideas."

At his words, your eyes widened. Zemo? Your Zemo? Was here? You hadn't seen him since before the snap. You had visited him on multiple occasions before, but that was for SHIELD business. You had to interrogate the man, and it didn't help that Helmut was gorgeous. You didn't know it then but somehow you were able to melt his frozen heart, and that was saying something. Helmut had lost so much... His home, his family... He was distant towards you for so long. But, slowly, gradually, Helmut warmed up to you, and for the first time in years... He felt loved again.

And here you were, in a club, eyes wide as you stared at your Helmut from across the dance floor. He was dancing, rather... Adorably. You would've laughed if you weren't in so much shock. Sam stared at you, before placing a hand on your shoulder.

"You know him?" He asked and you ignored the man, rushing to maneuver and weave past dancers, desperate to get to Helmut as fast as you could.

Standing behind him as he fist-bumped the air, you let out a sigh. Slowly, with your bated breath, Zemo turned around and paused when his eyes locked with yours. You stared at one another, the loud music slipping away into nothingness as the world disappeared into only the two of you. Your gaze softened as you stared at Helmut, as did his. The two of you smiled, almost shyly as you gazed at each other.

Then, suddenly, Helmut was pulling you into his arms and into a deep kiss. The kiss felt like a dam had burst inside of you. You couldn't stop yourself anymore, wrapping both arms around Helmut's neck, clinging onto him desperately. Your fingers curled into his expensive shirt, tugging lightly on it as you kissed him passionately. Helmut pulled away after a moment, resting his forehead against yours as you both breathed heavily. You rested your hands on his chest, holding him tightly. You both looked at one another with soft smiles, before Helmut placed a small peck on your lips and stepped away. His cheeks reddened under the dim lights of the club, but his smile remained plastered on his face.

"Helmut... How did you get out?" You whispered gently, grabbing his hand to pull him closer.

He glanced away briefly, before looking back down at you. "James let me out."

"Bucky... Bucky let you out?" You asked skeptically, not believing this. Helmut nodded. You opened your mouth to speak but stopped yourself as Helmut spoke up.

"Not that I’m not elated to see you, my love, but why are you here?" He asked, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to him, as the two of you swayed together on the dance floor.

"Sam called me." You mumbled into his shoulder, your grip tightening around him. He held you tighter. He knew you needed this. "He said he and Bucky needed help."

"Well," Helmut began, his hand running through your locks, "I am happy you're here. It's been a long time, meine Schatz."

You leaned away just enough to look him in the eye, "It has... And I am not letting them take you away from me again." You spoke determinedly.

His eyes flickered downwards, before looking back into your own eyes. "I know, my Schatz. I shall hope you never leave my side as well."

"I never could, Hel.” You muttered. "Now what trouble have they gotten you into?" You asked playfully as Helmut only smirked lightly, rolling his eyes. as he began to explain everything, you simply stared up at him, listening to his soft voice, hypnotic accent, and all, while holding the man you loved in your arms. You weren't going to let anyone take him away again, that was for sure. And if they tried, you would fight them tooth and nail. For Helmut.

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inkedobsidian · 5 months

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- MARVEL MASTERLIST -

- main masterlist - - current prompt list - f = fluff a = angst ** = nsfw

Peter Parker

rewrite the stars (f)

i hope -> i hope pt. 2 (a)

Bucky Barnes

jealousy (a)

runaway (a)

smackdown (f)

orchid (a)

Helmut Zemo

cute kids (f)

unexpected (f)

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nocapesdahling · 2 years

Text

Life Eternal

Helmut Zemo x F! Reader

My Masterlist

Prequel to Cousin Helmut (Can be read as a stand-alone)

Summary: Helmut Zemo is an Addams. When an Addams falls in love, they fall fast and they fall hard. After the loss of his Heike, he never thought he would love again. Until he saw you.

Rating: M (18+, Minors DNI please)

Warnings/Tags: Smut - Unprotected piv sex; Implied sexual content; Crossover; Darker Zemo; Darker Reader; These two are made for each other; Artist! Reader; Canon-typical Addams Family elements, such as casual discussions of and attitudes towards murder, violence, and poison; Macabre; Possessive Behavior; Love at first sight; Implied Dom/Sub; Implied breeding kink; One mention of exhibitionism; Brief mention of bondage; Some references to polyamory; Slight Canon divergence

Word Count: 9.1k

A/N: It only took a year, but it’s finally time for the long-promised Cousin Helmut prequel. This is officially my longest one shot I’ve posted, which I’m rather proud of and I really hope you enjoy. Have a very happy Halloween!

Being in prison had given Helmut a lot of time to think and to remember. He didn’t have much choice. He was alone with his thoughts and there wasn’t much else to do in solitary confinement, besides working out, sleeping, or reading books and newspapers, so he spent his time reminiscing.

One of his first childhood memories was of his mother. They were sitting eating breakfast, which Oeznik brought them — Oeznik had been his mother’s companion for as long as Helmut could remember and he had always looked the same.

Helmut watched her add something, which he later realized was arsenic that morning though sometimes she favored cyanide instead, to her tea, stir it, and breathe it in with contentment. His mother’s dark red lips curved into a small smile that contrasted with her dark hair and black dress. His father was out of town that weekend, so she was wearing her favorite hemlock berry lipstick that she said made her lips tingle. She only wore it when his father was traveling because it was too strong of a poison for his resistance levels and his father could never resist kissing his mother, poison lipstick or not, so there would have been some unfortunate trips to the hospital.

Helmut was a child and wanted to do everything his parents did, especially his mother, so he asked for some for his juice. His mother laughed, her chuckle low and mesmerizing, before smiling at him.

“Oh, my Helmut. You are not ready for arsenic yet. I’ve only just started you on corn cockle, my little monster. We have to work our way up to arsenic, cyanide, and belladonna. Now drink your juice, and we will learn more about the Plague. We’ve reached the picture portion of the lesson, isn’t that exciting?”

He smiled and eagerly drank his juice. He loved his mother’s lessons. It was only later in life that he realized most children were not served poison by their parents and that most mothers did not teach their children about the Plague, about wounds, or how to use all manner of weapons before they reached the age of 10. Fencing and swordplay were always his favorite, and he enjoyed practicing with his Uncle Gomez whenever he and his Aunt Morticia came to visit. However, his mother was not a typical mother. She was an Addams and that made all the difference.

Helmut Zemo was only half Addams and it was a well-kept secret in Sokovia. The Addams Family had a bit of a reputation throughout Europe, and his mother had wanted him to keep his heritage hidden as something of a trump card.

His father was a normal man and a Baron of Sokovia, who fell in love with a beautiful woman that he met at his parents’ funeral. As his mother told it, she had been on vacation and after visiting some family buried in the graveyard and having a lovely séance, she had seen the funeral and decided to attend. She loved funerals and didn’t want to miss what looked like a delightfully unhappy one. As his father told it, even if she had been uninvited, she had bewitched him at first sight. He had fallen madly in love and asked her to marry him within weeks. To the surprise of the rest of the Addams clan, she accepted and Helmut was born a few years later.

Looking back, his childhood had been idyllic, full of mayhem and his mother’s lessons in how to be an Addams. He only wished there had been more murder involved. He excelled at his mother’s lessons and wanted to put them into action, so when it came time to choose a career, he chose the military without a second thought. It was expected of him as a Baron’s son to serve in some capacity, but he went outside the norm and chose to join a covert kill squad after training. It let him indulge his Addams’s side in the best ways. The danger excited him, giving him a thrill when he almost died and even more so when he killed. He enjoyed what he did, relishing in the thrill of the hunt and the joy of leaving no survivors.

Then, he met Heike. She was a doctor at the hospital, where he brought an injured member of his squad, and when he met her she was covered in blood. It appealed to his baser instincts with the smear on her cheek being particularly lovely in contrast to her eyes. She had been and still was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. While Helmut’s last name might have been Zemo, he was an Addams through and through; when an Addams fell in love, they fell hard and they fell fast and he was no different.

He still chuckled to himself when he thought of Heike’s reaction to his gifts of flowers after they started dating. It took him a while to realize that she wanted roses with flowers still attached. His mother had always cut the blooms off and Helmut preferred them that way too. The thorns were the best and most dangerous part of a rose after all. Yet just as his father had learned to gift his mother bouquets of poison plants, Helmut learned to gift Heike bouquets of actual flowers.

They married within the year and Carl followed soon after. It was quickly apparent to Helmut that Carl was normal. He had not inherited the Addams constitution, traits, or ability to cheat death, so for the sake of his son he reined in his Addams side and played at being a normal man, a normal father. And he was good at it, even as it chafed at him. His mother had prepared him for this too. He always excelled in his childhood acting lessons. If he wished sometimes that he could go commit a nice murder, then he stopped himself with the thought that Heike needed him. That Carl needed him.

Then, they died along with his father. They went where he could not follow, at least not yet. His mother had been on a “trip” at the time, hunting down a serial killer, so she was not there to protect them. To save them. He knew that he had only survived Sokovia because he was an Addams and that his family did not have that benefit. Oh, how he wished they had.

He called his mother with the news, knowing that she would help him in what he had resolved to do, and let his facade disappear. It was time to let his Addams side out to play again, the side that relished violence and was good at it — the one that would help him get his revenge, no matter the cost. Hiding did not matter anymore, not when you lost practically everyone you cared about all at once.

His mother helped him with his plans, which came to fruition in exactly the way he hoped. Well, besides his death of course. He had been ready to die, ready to join Heike six feet under in a matching coffin. He wanted to rot next to her for all eternity, but he would face the keen torment of living for a while longer it seemed, biding his time in prison.

He had a visitor today. It had been so long and as he opened his eyes and caught sight of the Winter Soldier, he smiled a devilish grin that he hid using the shadows and began to speak. Longing…

His escape from jail was exhilarating . It was nice to stretch his legs again and engage in some casual violence, though the guard had barely put up a fight. How disappointing. He wondered what his Uncles would make of it. After all, he hadn’t had to kill anyone or set off any explosions. He left the guard alive to avoid suspicion and to curtail the scale of the manhunt for him, and he had a feeling that Uncle Fester would deduct points for that.

It was a pleasure to see Oeznik again, looking the same as the last time he had seen him. Helmut had never asked Oeznik what he was because it wasn’t his business, though he had ruled out whatever Lurch was. Oeznik had served his mother and now Helmut faithfully for many years and he knew that he would continue to do so for many more, so what did it matter?

----

Ah, Madripoor. He had missed it, the people, the lights, and most of all the aura of danger that permeated the air. This was his kind of place. He only wished that they had been there for pleasure and not on a mission. Surely, there were plenty of people here that no one would miss. Oh well, he would do what was necessary. Having any additional fun would draw both Sam and James’s suspicions.

Sharon Carter and her stately residence had been a surprise, but now that they were here he was determined to enjoy the party. It had been too long. Prison had kept him from his vices, and now it was time to indulge.

He surveyed the room from the bar, feeling the presence of James and Sam alongside him. He would start with a drink, then maybe a dance. If he were lucky, then he’d get to use the knife he’d pilfered from the plane. He had plenty of practice blending in and even as every fiber of him wanted to cause “trouble”, he would resist it. Somewhat. A little trouble wouldn’t hurt anyone. Much. His mother had chosen his middle name of Tribulatio for a reason.

But then as he glanced towards the artwork, Helmut Zemo spotted you and froze. He never thought he would feel this way again, not after Heike, but there you were in all your glory and beauty and he fell. He fell as an Addams did — hard, fast, and with no regrets.

He began to approach you and as his Uncle Gomez’s words ran through his mind on how to woo a woman, his walk turned into more of a prowl and people unconsciously got out of his way — scattering like prey in the presence of a predator.

You hadn’t wanted to attend this party but Sharon Carter, one of your few friends in Madripoor, had insisted. She thought that you spent too much time working and not enough time having fun, so here you were. You would rather have been home, preparing for the week ahead or painting, but you figured that since you were here that you might as well admire the artwork. Your attention had been drawn by one of your favorite paintings, Artemisia Gentilischi’s Judith Beheading Holofernes, which was supposed to be in The Uffizi at the moment. The music and the other guests had faded away as you stood entranced by the painting and its use of chiaroscuro.

You almost jumped when you heard an accented voice speak close to you, “A beautiful painting, isn’t it?”

You turned your head to look at the man next to you, only to stop short. He was more handsome than you’d expected him to be and now that you were looking at him you couldn’t seem to stop, taking in the details of his clothes and the angles of his face until you met his amused eyes. He smirked at you, having noticed your appraisal, and tilted his head towards the painting.

You cleared your throat. “Yes, I’ve always thought so, though I don’t find many others who do. Many find it too gory for their tastes.”

He turned his face away from you to look at the painting, giving you a view of his profile, which was just as handsome as the rest of him. You wished you had your sketchpad with you in order to capture this man and his features. You hadn’t felt this inspired in ages.

“I find the moment that the artist has captured and the way she has depicted the women compelling. They are front and center, determined, strong, and in control. They have chosen to do this deed and are unafraid of getting bloody while doing so. They are powerful.” His voice seemed to linger over the word bloody.

You nodded along, listening to him voice what you had always thought out loud. “Exactly. You do not find it frightening? It was considered so for its time.”

He turned back to look at you, stopping his scrutiny of the painting, and smiled with a small upturn of his lips. “It is often the so-called horrors of life that are the most arresting. It is a beautifully depicted scene, but not as beautiful or bewitching as you.”

“As me?” Your voice showed the surprise you felt.

“I found myself enchanted by you from across the room and knew I had to approach you. That I would not rest until I had.” He stepped a bit closer to you as he spoke and you enjoyed his increasing proximity.

You stared at the man in shock. If this had been anyone else, then you would have found his comments and closeness a bit creepy. Yet for some reason, you didn’t. You found him as compelling as he apparently found you.

“I find you handsome as well. Striking. It’s been difficult to keep my eyes off you.” Your voice was hesitant as you spoke because you weren’t sure how he would take that. This was new territory for you and not at all what you had expected for tonight.

“Perfect. Then, you feel it too.” He smiled and stepped closer, while reaching out a hand. “Would you dance with me, draga?”

You placed your hand in his and were unsurprised to feel slight gun calluses. This was Madripoor after all. You could tell that he either wore gloves while handling a gun or it had been some time. You knew you were one of the few, who didn’t have them, at least not from a gun. Knives left different calluses. You had refined your skills with a knife after arriving in Madripoor. The streets were dangerous and you needed a way to protect yourself that was more dangerous than attempting to stab someone with a paintbrush. In your old life, you never would have considered that you would enjoy the feeling of a knife in your hand so much.

“Ah, but before we do, I have gotten ahead of myself. I am Helmut Zemo, my beauty. And you are?”

You were embarrassed to think that you hadn’t even thought about exchanging names, too consumed by his presence. You gave him yours and enjoyed the way it sounded in his voice as he repeated it.

“Now, we may proceed.” Helmut was smirking as he gestured towards the dancing crowd and he seemed to relish in your laugh.

You walked hand and hand to the dance floor, where he proceeded to make you laugh harder than you had in a long time with his moves. He then pulled you into what you vaguely recognized as a waltz without a care that it didn’t match the music and was causing the people around you to stop and stare. He was going to be Trouble. You followed his lead and forgot about everything else.

After you danced, you walked the gallery together, looking at the paintings and talking about anything and everything. None of the paintings prompted a similar amount of attention from either of you as Judith Beheading Holofernes, but that was to be expected. Nothing was as arresting, when your attention was fully devoted to Helmut and his to you.

As he watched you smile at him, Helmut spoke to you about what he had done to avenge his family, watching your face change to a serious and thoughtful expression. He wanted you to go into this with your eyes open. He also wanted to impress you, even if most people would not have been impressed by murder and arson, but he couldn’t help but want to show off. He knew the Addams side of his family would have been impressed.

He expected you to be horrified as any normal person would be. He was prepared for you to run from him. As though he would let you. He did not expect the look of intrigue that came over your face. It was not difficult to read and he wanted to see that expression directed at him again. He told you why he did it of course — about Sokovia, Carl, and Heike — and you understood and admired his resolve. He had done it for love and he had succeeded. What was more attractive than a competent man, who would do anything for his loved ones? What would he do for you if you were counted among their number?

You told him more about you and how you ended up in Madripoor. It had been because you had no choice, not really. Due to the Blip, you had nowhere else to go and you felt like you needed to be there because that was where the real art was. It was how you’d become friends with Sharon, visiting her gallery and falling into conversations with her about the different pieces. Yet something else about Madripoor had drawn you in and once you were in its claws, you couldn’t have escaped even if you wanted to. Which you hadn’t.

Helmut devoted his full attention to you, admiring the way your eyes lit up while discussing the art and your fascination with the city before responding. “I understand the appeal of a city like Madripoor. I do. The savagery is beautiful here. People are in touch with their base natures in a way that I find compelling.” Here Helmut paused and grasped both your hands in his and looked deep into your eyes. It almost felt like he had hypnotized you with both his eyes and his voice. It wasn’t hypnosis per se, but his mother had taught him a few skills to gain and keep someone’s attention that he’d never forgotten. “But would you leave here? Would you come with me?”

“Come with you? We’ve only just met, Helmut. I don’t…” You lost your train of thought as you looked at him. It didn’t feel like you’d only just met. It felt like you had known each other for lifetimes.

“My beloved, does that matter? You know me and I know you. I do not want another.” Here he paused and pulled you closer, your breasts pressing against his chest. You wondered if he could feel your nipples through your dress, and had conflicting desires where you both hoped he couldn’t and that he could. That he would touch you there in front of everyone. In ways you had never let anyone else do in public. There was no room for self-consciousness, not with a man like Helmut. Everything he did seemed to arouse and attract you. Like a true apex predator.

He swayed the two of you to music he must have been hearing in his own head and whispered in your ear — his voice rough and deep, “I have been yours since I first saw you across the room, admiring one of my favorite paintings. I do not know what spell you have cast over me, but I belong to you now. Are you mine?”

You pulled back slightly to scrutinize him. You ran your eyes over his attire and his body then finally his face, meeting his deep brown eyes.

What did you know about this man, really? That he was handsome and that you could listen to his voice for hours. That he had killed before and was likely to do so again. You only knew what he had told you since you met, but you couldn’t imagine never seeing him again. Something told you that you had found a kindred spirit. A man who wouldn’t shy away from your skills with a knife or your more gruesome paintings — you wondered what he would think of the ones where you used some rather unconventional pigments. A man that you wouldn’t mind belonging to as long as he was yours in return. He had already assured you with his words and actions that he was, and you in turn wanted to be his. And his alone.

While you deliberated, he continued to watch you patiently.

“Yes, my villain. I am yours.” The nickname had come out without thought, but it seemed fitting.

His face looked exultant for a moment, almost mad with ecstasy before he hid whatever that had been back behind his calm mask. It would have made anyone else have doubts and regrets for their decision, but you — it only made you more enthralled by him.

“My love.” He leaned in and kissed you passionately in a way that made you feel like he was trying to devour you, to consume you. And you wanted to do the same to him as you reciprocated and lost yourself in the kiss. It could have gone on for hours, the outside world with its loud music and party goers having faded away, when you heard a throat clear awkwardly behind you.

“Zemo. Zemo. Zemo!” The voice sounded impatient.

As Helmut pulled away from you with reluctance, even as you tried to pull him back, you wondered how long the man had been trying to get his attention. For all you knew, it could have been hours. Even after that one kiss, you knew that you wanted to spend the rest of your life kissing Helmut Zemo. You didn’t want to let him go. Ever.

He kept his hand in yours as he turned you both to face the other man, who stood behind him with a look of both impatience and confusion on his face. He caught your scrutiny and gave you an awkward smile, even as you caught the veiled suspicion in his eyes. You smiled back and gave him a casual little wave, acting as though you hadn’t been caught kissing an escaped convict.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.” He didn’t sound that sorry, but he stepped closer and stuck out a hand. “I’m Sam.”

You shook it and told him your name, and watched as Sam lost his smile when he turned to Helmut. “Zemo, we have to go. Sharon found who we were looking for.”

Helmut nodded, though he was sure that he looked somewhat exasperated as he willed you to stay in front of his body for a few more moments while he calmed himself down. “I’ll be there shortly.”

“You better not take too long, Zemo.” Sam’s tone was full of warning as he addressed Helmut before he turned to you and smiled again, even as confusion on why you had been kissing Zemo continued to show in his eyes. “It was nice meeting you.”

Sam walked over to where you could see Sharon and a man whose hard stare was focused on Zemo, and was that a metal hand? How fascinating. You turned to face Helmut, knowing this was goodbye. At least for now.

“I’m afraid that I must go, draga. But I will call you before we leave and you will meet us, yes?”

You nodded as you gestured for his phone, inputting your number and thinking of what you wanted to take with you from your small apartment.

“Yes, I’ll meet you at the airport. I just want to pack some things up first. Don’t take too long, Helmut.” Your tone turned teasing at the end. “I won’t wait forever.”

He smirked at you and kissed you again, and as you pulled him closer the effect you had on him was obvious. The same effect he had on you, so it was nice to know that it was reciprocal.

“If I am not there, then Oeznik will take care of you. You can trust him with your life. Goodbye, my love.”

“See you soon, my villain. My Helmut.”

He gave you one last lingering look that promised things to come and went to join his companions. You watched them leave the party, giving Sharon and Sam a wave and cheerfully smiling at the stoic man with the metal arm, who was still staring at you as they left. You blew Helmut a kiss and watched him smile, an actual smile this time, before walking away. That was just as nice a view from the back as it was from the front.

You roused yourself from your small daydream of seeing Helmut’s body and especially his butt unclothed and left the party, knife in hand. You never knew who you would encounter on the way home in Madripoor and you had a date tomorrow that you were not going to miss.

You arrived at the airport and were met by a man, waiting outside of what you assumed was Helmut’s private plane, on the tarmac. Oeznik seemed to be a wonderful person, who had only fond things to say about Helmut. Now as you got settled into one of the comfortable plane seats, all you had to do was wait.

You’d taken out your sketch pad and were drawing Helmut from memory when you heard men’s voices bickering back and forth with Helmut’s accented voice standing out to you with more familiarity than it should have. He was here. As they entered the plane, you ignored Sam and the man who had been staring at you last night in favor of focusing on Helmut. He looked tired, but no worse for wear. As he laid eyes on you, they lit up in a way that neither of the others seemed to notice.

“You came. My beloved.” He stepped closer as if to embrace you. He smelled like fire. You stepped closer in return, but were interrupted as you went to answer.

“Who the hell is she, Zemo? Why is she here?” The voice came from the man you had yet to hear speak.

Zemo reluctantly faced him, who was still staring at you. Sam had already settled into a plane seat and was looking at you as well, though he too looked confused about why you were here.

“She’s with me, James, and will be accompanying us to our next destination. I vouch for her.” Helmut’s voice sounded proud when he said she’s with me and it gave you a thrill to hear it. You were with him now. His tone begged James to contradict him.

“This isn’t a vacation, Zemo. Why is she here?” James’s voice was hard and he was still staring at you, his blue eyes intense.

Sam also spoke up, “Your vouching for her isn’t likely to make us trust her, Zemo.”

By now, Helmut had settled himself in the seat next to yours and grasped your hand seemingly without a thought. He went to speak and you squeezed his hand before speaking up yourself, “I needed to get out of Madripoor, James. It was not safe for me there and Helmut was gracious enough to offer to help me. Aren’t you heroes? Isn’t helping people your job?”

You had thought Sam looked familiar last night, even without the wings and goggles, so you’d looked him up online and figured out that he was the Falcon. James also had to be some kind of hero if they were traveling together and based on his dislike of Helmut and what Helmut had told you last night, there was some history there. Either way, a little manipulation never hurt anyone.

Based on Helmut’s tightened grasp of your hand, you might have been a bit too blatant but what could you do? What had been said couldn’t be taken back.

James continued to stare at you before finally settling into a seat. “It’s Bucky.” His voice sounded resigned.

Sam spoke up, “Bucky, give it a rest. We can’t bring her back now and we can’t just leave her here on the tarmac, not with everyone coming after us. We have to go.” He then nodded at you. “And if she needs help, then she needs help.”

You knew that both Sam and Bucky would be watching you. You would do the same in their place. It was a good thing that you had nothing but the best of intentions. At the moment.

Everyone settled into their seats and began to talk about what they’d discovered in Madripoor. You tuned them out and focused on Helmut’s thumb that was caressing your hand. You felt him lean closer to whisper in your ear.

“Well played, draga. Though a bit heavy handed on the manipulation. Don’t worry, I’ll help you refine your techniques.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder and whispered back, “I look forward to it, my Hel.” You got comfortable and with the scent of smoke and something uniquely Helmut in your nose, you fell asleep.

Helmut breathed in the smell of your hair as he told Oeznik to set the plane’s course for Riga. He was glad you were here, that you were with him. You would not be leaving him again. Not if he had anything to say about it.

You woke as you felt the plane descend, your head still on Helmut’s shoulder.

You lifted it and turned to pull up the window shade to look outside. “Where are we, Hel?”

“Riga. It’s the next stage of our endeavor, and I have a place that we will be staying.”

You turned to face him, noticing that it looked like he hadn’t slept. You decided not to mention it. “You have a place here?”

“I used to come here when I was young with my parents. My mother in particular was fond of the city, though if it has fallen into some disrepair like I expect, then I believe she would be even more fond of it now.”

You filed away the fact that his mother was still alive for later. He stood up. You hadn’t even noticed the plane landing as you listened to him speak. You loved his voice. He offered you a hand and helped you stand.

“I believe you will like it here, draga. There is a bathtub that I hope we can put to good use.” With that, he smirked at you and you laughed even as you couldn’t help but anticipate that very scenario.

----

Helmut watched your face as you entered the apartment behind him and Sam. You had taken everything in, but your eyes kept coming back to the stained glass windows. Understandable, those had always been one of his favorite parts of this apartment. As he directed Sam to one of the bedrooms and moved towards the room he always used when he stayed here, his last glimpse was of you stepping closer to the windows and pulling your sketch pad out of your bag.

He settled everything in his room and stepped out. “I’m afraid there aren’t enough bedrooms for all four of us to have our own, my beloved.” His voice was teasing because while you’d be able to step into the hallway and see that he was telling the truth — both you and he knew that he wanted you in his room and in his bed. Nowhere else.

“There aren’t?” You turned to face him and tilted your head to the side with a grin on your face. “What a shame. Whoever shall I share with? Should I ask Bucky?” You paused and let your grin become even more mischievous, almost devilish in a way that appealed to Helmut more than he would admit out loud. He was pretending to be somewhat normal after all, though he hoped one day that there would be no pretending necessary. At least not with you. “Or is Sam the better option? He seems to like me.”

He let a growl escape as he stepped closer, cupping your face in his hand and kissing you. The pressure of his lips against yours was light before increasing due to your eager response. His lips shifted into a small smirk that you could feel against yours as you opened your mouth to his.

His voice when he murmured your name was deep, causing you to let out a soft moan as his hands slipped down to grasp your butt, pulling you closer. You bit his lip teasingly, first lightly then harder causing him to let loose another growl and for his eyes to go wild as he pulled back. “Don’t tease me, draga. You would not like what I would do to Sam if I thought you had even the slightest interest in him.” He kissed you again before pulling away. “I would kill for you, my beauty. And to keep you. Just as I would die for you. And I would do it all with a smile on my face.

You shivered and tried to pull yourself together because each kiss with this man got better every time. That was also the hottest thing anyone had ever said to you. He was so beautiful to you and he got more beautiful by the minute as he showed himself to be more dangerous.

As Helmut began to fill the tub, you let your eyes rove over the bathroom and your attention was caught by the intricate tiles on the walls before you heard clothes begin to drop to the floor behind you.

You turned your head and watched as he settled into the tub, noting that the reality of his body including his butt, was even better than all your imaginings.

He caught you looking and chuckled, his voice husky, before smirking. “Well, aren’t you going to join me? There’s more than enough room for two.”

You thought that might have been the first time you heard him laugh and you wanted to hear more of it, especially in this context. You sat down to pull off your boots, knowing that he hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

After taking your time and feeling the intensity of his gaze as you removed each item of clothing with deliberate slowness, you approached the tub and looked into his eyes. They were dark with want and an emotion you weren’t ready to name.

It wasn’t the largest tub in the world, but as he helped you enter it you decided it didn’t matter. It would only allow you to be closer to him. As you settled into the tub, your back to his chest, you sighed in contentment. You relaxed together, feeling his warmth against your back and the muscles of his thighs under yours.

Helmut began to run a washcloth over your body, taking his time to caress your arms and hands. He washed your stomach, ignoring your squirming that you couldn’t quite contain. You closed your eyes in bliss as he reached your breasts, lingering on them a bit more than needed to get them clean. You felt hot and involuntarily leaned back even closer to him, feeling him hard and thick against the small of your back.

You gasped, “Hel…”

He continued to caress you. You could feel his breath against your ear, “Yes, draga? You teased me and now I get to tease you. Quid pro quo.” He was attempting to sound unaffected, but you could hear the rasp in his voice and you felt just how affected he was against you. He continued to run the washcloth over your stomach before dipping it in between your legs and replacing it with his fingers. He circled his thumb over your clit and you gasped, rocking back against him without a care if water fell on the floor. It would serve him right.

You turned and kissed him, straddling him and running your hands through his hair as his fingers worked over you and inside you. He gave as good as he got as you rocked back and forth on his lap, pulling your hips down harder and bucking up against you. You couldn’t take it anymore, crying out and clenching on his fingers — you needed him inside of you and you wanted to feel it. His length was hard and hot in your hand and as you grasped him and sunk down on him with a moan, he groaned.

“You’re so tight. And wet. All for me.” His pupils were blown wide and his hair had fallen in front of his eye, causing you to reach out a hand and push it back. Your thumb brushed across his cheekbone tenderly and he reached up to grasp your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. You smiled at him and laughed as more water fell onto the floor as you both began to move again. He laughed too before speaking, “Draga, we must be quiet. Sam is right outside. Do you think you can do that?” His voice was rough and close to a growl.

You nodded even as your eyes began to close, feeling him thrust up into you as you rolled your hips.

Helmut grasped your chin. “No, you will look at me. I want to see your eyes — every expression on your face as you come for me.”

You lost count of how many times you fell apart. Let’s just say that you hoped Sam was not too close to the bathroom because your endeavor to keep quiet failed more than once.

----

You laid in what was left of the bath, lazy in your satisfaction, watching Helmut tend to his hair while naked. You looked at the small half moon marks and scratches your fingers had left from digging into his back with no little amount of possessiveness. He was Yours. You had wanted to mark him and you knew he had wanted it too. After all, you had marks of your own. Just as you were His.

He smiled at you in the mirror and turned. “I will wear them as a badge of honor and hope for more in the future.” His eyes were alight with his own satisfaction and possessiveness as he took in the marks he had left on your body in return through the now clear water. “Beautiful, draga.”

Helmut pulled on a robe, before offering you a towel to dry yourself with. Then, it was his turn to watch you.

“I would do this every day. With you.” His statement had the tone of a question. Did you feel the same?

His robe gaped at the top, leaving his chest hair and necklace exposed and you already wanted him again, even knowing that you didn’t have time right now. Sam was outside and Bucky would be back soon.

You had taken too long already.

You turned to him, dropping the towel and stepping closer. You watched his eyes linger on your body, before focusing on your face.

“If every day is like today, then I’m going to want you all the time.”

As he helped you into a matching robe to his, he brushed his thumb over your nipple teasingly before whispering in your ear, “Oh draga, we didn’t even have a bed. Imagine what it would be like in our bed… The things I would like to do to and for you.”

You tied the robe and turned to kiss him, which he cut short. “Come on, my beloved. We musn’t keep Sam and James waiting.”

With that he strode out the door in his robe, towel in hand.

He was so dramatic and you loved it.

You took more time coming out of the bathroom, changing into an extra pair of jeans and a sweater that you’d left on the side. Not everyone had Helmut’s uncaring attitude when it came to wearing a robe in front of strangers. Then again, it was his house.

You exited the bathroom, only to see Helmut rummaging through the kitchen cabinets and rolling his eyes at something that Bucky had said. You waved in greeting to Bucky and gave Sam a smile before focusing back on Helmut, who apparently had killed a man in Madripoor.

Typical. He’d probably looked good doing it too. And did he have a cookie on his finger? This man.

You shook your head and settled into one of the chairs at the counter, watching Hel pull out what looked like candy as the men talked about Sam’s Titi and a funeral for someone important in the community.

Little did you know that Helmut was making sure that this was the non-poisonous Turkish Delight. His mother had liked to make the candy and fill it with all types of different poisons. It had been a game for him as a child to try and guess the poison. By the time he was teenager, he won the game every time. The cyanide Turkish Delight was particularly good with a quite enjoyable flavor. While it was tempting to have you try one of the poisonous ones and begin your acclimation to poisons now, it wasn’t the time. There would be time for that later.

The men discussed heading out into the city and seeing if they could find where this funeral was going to be. You knew even as you ate one of Helmut’s so-called irresistible Turkish Delights that you weren’t invited. That was fine. You’d rather do some sketching anyway.

Helmut had changed back into his clothes, coat included. You loved that coat and were looking forward to getting to try it on for yourself, preferably with nothing on underneath. He kissed you and caressed your cheek before bidding you goodbye.

You watched them leave, worrying about Helmut, yet looking forward to some time alone to draw. As you settled on the couch, beginning to focus on the contours of the skull you were drawing in loving detail, after the excitement of the last few days it didn’t surprise you when your eyes began to close.

----

You awoke with a jerk as you heard what sounded like glass hitting the wall. You sat up, head foggy only to see Bucky facing Helmut whose back was to you. Based on their postures, that must have been Bucky who threw something.

You went to stand and watched as Sam deescalated the situation, even as Bucky and Helmut were still staring at each other.

You held in a laugh at “ the stupid head tilt thing” because you knew Helmut wouldn’t like that he had any tells, but the way Sam phrased it was funny. And also accurate.

Sam left the room and Bucky walked away after saying no to the cherry blossom tea, leaving you and Helmut alone. It was then that you spoke up.

“I’d like some cherry blossom tea if you’re offering, my villain.”

Helmut turned to you. “I am sorry we woke you, draga. Yes, of course.” He poured you a cup and presented it to you. “Here cherry blossom tea for my sweet blossom. Or should that be my thorny blossom?”

You laughed, glad that you hadn’t drank any tea yet, before taking a sip. “Really, Hel? That wasn’t as smooth as normal.”

He joined you on the couch. “I thought you might need a laugh. As do I. Interacting with the children brought back memories.”

You watched him before reaching out to take his hand in yours. “Of your son?”

At his nod, you continued, “Tell me about him.”

He cleared his throat and you were prepared for him to turn away and leave, but to your surprise he spoke, “Carl was… Carl was good. In a way that I have not been nor will ever be. He loved the outdoors and he loved to play video games. He was a good boy and a good son, and I wish that I had gotten to see what he would become.”

His hand clenched tightly around yours, almost to the point of pain, but you said nothing.

“And your wife?”

“Heike was beautiful, both inside and out. When I first met her, I thought I would never see anything more arresting. Her bloody hands as she stitched up my men. Until I saw you, standing in front of Judith Slaying Holofernes. I thought Heike was the love of my life and though she still is and always will be, I have realized that we may be lucky enough to have more than one. She would have loved you. Just as I do. I’m excited for when you’ll meet in the afterlife. All three of us together will be glorious.”

You disregarded him talking about your potential deaths for another time. “You love me?”

He turned his head to look into your eyes, “I have loved you since I first saw you, but do understand if it’s too early for you to know your feelings.”

You didn’t hesitate, “I love you too, my Hel.”

The three men returned from the funeral and you ran towards where Helmut was being supported by both Bucky and Sam.

“What happened?” You looked to Sam as you helped them situate Helmut on the couch.

“Walker happened. He hit him in the head with the shield.”

You moved to the kitchen and ran cold water over a washcloth for Helmut’s forehead.

“And he’s your Captain America?”

Bucky scoffed, “He’s not my Captain America. He shouldn’t even have the shield in the first place.”

Sam sighed, “Here we go again.”

You tuned out their bickering as you tended to Helmut. He had been fine this morning, telling you that he loved you, and now he was hurt. What if he never told you that he loved you again? You watched him carefully and were surprised to see his eyes fluttering. You leaned closer and saw him smirk and put a finger to his lips. You smiled. He wasn’t as bad as you thought. He was going to be okay.

For his part, Helmut had been knocked out but had woken up about halfway back to the apartment. His cousin, Wednesday, hit much harder than John Walker. Even Pubert hit harder than John Walker. This injury was nothing to an Addams but he was planning to play it up for as long as possible, especially if it would get Sam and James off his back for a few hours and give him a little time to plan his escape. Well, his and yours. He would not be leaving you behind for any reason.

----

Walker burst into the room, causing you to move closer to Helmut who had stood up with his whiskey still in hand. You didn’t want to take your eyes off of Walker, the threat in the room, but you couldn’t help but let them admire Helmut in his shoulder holsters. He looked good. As always.

You watched Sam stand up for Helmut and listened to Walker, who unsurprisingly made you angry with his attitude. This was the man who had hit your Hel in the head with a shield? What an asshole. You stepped closer to Walker, reaching to pull the knife that you always kept in your boot. No one was looking at you, too consumed in the interactions between Sam and Walker. Or so you thought. You felt a hand on your arm and Helmut gently pulled you back, shaking his head as you looked at him and motioning for you to come closer. He offered you some of his whiskey, smirking as you shook your head no. He wanted to pull you into his arms and press a kiss to your forehead, but resisted. He knew you both might need your hands free for what was to come.

It was enjoyable standing next to Helmut as he casually sipped his whiskey and you watched avidly as the Dora Milaje fought Walker. They were amazing. As Bucky and Sam joined the fight, you glanced at Helmut to see if he was enjoying this as much as you were. He had an interesting look on his face and as he put down his drink and grabbed your hand, you had a feeling that you knew where this was going. He led you to the bathroom and had you step in front of him as he subtly closed and locked the bathroom doors.

“Time to escape, my villain?” You whispered as you watched him fiddle with the tub.

“Time to escape, draga. It should be just here. Ah, yes.”

The tub began to move, leaving a sewage grate exposed in the ground. You helped him lift it and each of you went through one by one. Helmut helped you down the ladder and kept hold of your hand once in the tunnel.

“Come, my love. I have a place we can go.”

“You always have a place we can go, my villain.”

You enjoyed the time that you got to spend alone with Helmut in one of his family’s properties, not far from where Sokovia had fallen — even with the knowledge that it couldn’t possibly last. That Sam or Bucky or both would eventually catch up with you and send your Hel back to prison. It had been blissful and satisfying here as though you and Helmut were in your own little world, cut off from everything.

You had never known another partner, who could satisfy you the way that Helmut could. You had lost count of the variety of different ways and places that he had made you come. He anticipated your needs in a way no one else had and he knew the perfect balance between pleasure and pain. He began to teach you the same and you were a diligent student, looking forward to those lessons with anticipation.

Flashback:

You were reading in the library when he stepped in, wearing one of his many robes. You knew that he did it on purpose to entice you and it got your attention as always. He sat across from you and let the robe gape open, leaving his chest exposed. You couldn’t help but stare at him, taking in the necklace and chest hair, your interest in the book lost. Helmut acted oblivious, picking up one of the books on the table and beginning to read.

You closed yours with a snap and placed it down.

“My Hel.”

He hummed absentmindedly, keeping his eyes on the book even as he hadn’t turned any pages yet. He wasn’t fooling anyone. “Yes, draga?”

“I would like to try something new today, Hel.”

“Hmm?”

“I would like you to be the one restrained this time, my villain.” You leaned in close and grasped his chin, tilting his head up. His eyes were dark. “Would you like that, darling?”

“Yes, my love. Please.” It came out as a gasp.

“Do you have everything prepared?” You assumed he did because that had to have been his intention coming into the library, looking like temptation personified, in the first place.

“Yes.” His voice was giddy with anticipation.

You smiled at him and caressed his cheek before walking away with the expectation that he would follow. He always did.

“Such a well behaved villain. You deserve a reward. Meet me in the bedroom.”

You smirked to yourself as you heard the chair hurriedly push away from the table.

End Flashback

You never wanted to give him up. You wanted to be by his side forever. In life and in death. But it was not to be. Your time together was coming to an end. Helmut would be going to the Sokovian Memorial to await Bucky’s arrival and leaving you behind.

“You will be safe here, my beloved. No one, save Oeznik and my mother, knows of the existence of this house.”

You nodded as you let the tears that you were trying to hold in flow.

“I promise that I will see you again. Nothing shall keep me from you, even in death we will be together. Always. With my Heike too of course. She will adore you. Just as I do.”

He proceeded to give you instructions for what to do after he’d gone, which you committed to memory. You knew that while he did not want to go, he was ready to leave. If he didn’t leave now, then he didn’t know if he’d be able to do so. You kissed him desperately and as his hands grasped your waist, pulling you closer, you ground against him. He pulled back in admonishment.

“I know what you’re doing, draga. It will not work. I must go.”

Even so, he was the one to lean back in and reinitiate things. He couldn’t resist you. Not in this. By the time you were in the bedroom and Helmut was inside of you, he had forgotten why he had protested in the first place. He made desperate eye contact with you and held you close, committing every detail to memory. It was slower than normal, tender, and as you came you gasped his name. He picked up the pace and followed suit, hoping that you didn’t notice his worshipful gaze on your stomach and the hidden hope on his face.

He would never be over Carl’s death. Never. Carl was His. Yet he wanted another child with you, one that you had made together. One he hoped to teach about poisons and the best way to kill a man, just as his mother had before him. One he could introduce to his mother as an Addams, just as you now were. He wanted it with a quiet kind of desperation and a secret yearning. You would look so beautiful carrying his child.

----

You kissed him again before he left, and you didn’t make any attempt to stop your tears this time.

“Don’t cry, draga. All will be well. You will see me again soon, and I will count the days until you are once again in my arms. You won’t even have time to miss me.” His voice was teasing, but rough as he held in emotions of his own.

You humored him with a watery laugh. “Good bye, my villain. Don’t torture yourself in prison, Hel. That’s my job.”

“Oh, my love. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He gave you one last smile before getting into the car with Oeznik behind the wheel.

You stood in the doorway until you couldn’t see the car anymore before letting yourself give into your tears. You didn't know how long you sat there sobbing, but some time later you began to carry out Helmut’s instructions. This would not be forever, not if you had anything to say about it.

It was time to take a trip to 001 Cemetery Lane and meet your new family. Something told you that you’d get along just fine.

Reblogs, comments, and likes are much appreciated. Thanks so much for reading!

A/N: This goes right into Cousin Helmut if you’d like to read the fic that started this little crossover series. Hope you all enjoyed this, and please let me know if you did!

I do have ideas for a sequel, where the whole family breaks Zemo out of the Raft which I think would be a lot of fun.

Many thanks to my beloved @clints-lucky-arrow for giving me a much needed confidence boost, for your feedback, and for beta reading 💜 And to the lovely @lafemmedezemo for being a big supporter of Zemo as an Addams since the beginning and for requesting this fic’s moodboard -- you’re both the best and ily!

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applepiewinchesters · 1 year

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Don’t Blame Me (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

A/N: Hellooo friends. This is a fic I started a month or so ago and just now finished so I hope you like it!! This is based around the song “Don’t Blame Me” by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 4,200

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy. If it doesn’t you ain’t doin’ it right.

When you agreed to help Sam and Bucky investigate who was to blame for the recent string of super soldiers running around, you didn’t really think it would entail breaking a terrorist out of prison.

Helmut Zemo was crafty, dangerous, and overall, at least in your mind, a shit person. So, when he emerged from the dark in what apparently was his parking garage, you had to hold back from knocking his teeth in.

It wasn’t long after you were aboard a private jet flying to Madripoor to try and get to the bottom of everything. Bucky and Sam were bickering constantly, and the Baron wasn’t exactly welcome company, but he was quiet as he sat across from you, reading in his seat.

A question was nagging at you, one that was insensitive in some respects, but you were curious regardless.

“Did you really try to kill us all because a sentient robot decided to try and take over the world?” you’d asked suddenly.

Zemo’s eyes lifted from his book to you, raising an eyebrow as he did. He sighed slightly, marking his page before setting the book on the small tray beside him.

“To be truthful, you and your friends were easiest to blame,” Zemo told you casually.

You eyed him, waiting for some cruel comment, but none came.

“We saved everyone we could find in time, you do know that right?” you replied, crossing your arms.

“Yes, and I do applaud you and the others for that, but my family…” Zemo began but trailed off, a pained look in his eye.

You were both silent for a moment before he continued, “Love will make you crazy, perhaps you’ll find that out some day.”

A nasty remark caught in your throat, and you sat back, because he was right.

My name is whatever you decide, and I’m just gonna call you mine.

Of course, your job was being the arm candy. And not even the arm candy of whoever the hell Sam was pretending to be while you four slunk around Madripoor, Zemo’s arm candy.

The dress you had managed to find on such short notice glittered in every light you passed, the gold color of it apparently matching the gold in the Sokovian flag, according to Zemo. The high heels you wore were almost impossible to walk in, and you could hope you wouldn’t be doing any running.

Your hair was curled and pinned back, your makeup accentuating the best parts of your face.

When the car stopped on the bridge, Sam helped you out of the car, and Zemo appeared beside you, offering his arm, his gentleman ways stirring something up inside you.

The man was a murderer, but a classy murderer at that.

You took his arm, and he began leading you towards the city along with Bucky and Sam, who were ready to kill the man if he touched you the wrong way. Despite knowing the fact you wore a knife in the thigh holster barely hidden by your dress, they’d kill Zemo for you at your request.

By the time you finally got to the club, your feet were on fire, and you were ready to just get whatever information you needed and get the hell out of there.

Zemo led you all towards the bar, and once you all reached it his arm let go of yours, moving down to your waist and securing you to his side. Sam looked ready to punch him, and looks could kill, the glare he was getting from Bucky would have made him drop dead.

You tried your best to look happy, even leaning into Zemo to give everyone a show.

“Hello gentlemen, and lady, wasn’t expecting you Smiling Tiger,” the bartender greeted you all.

“His plans changed, we have business to do with Selby,” Zemo lied smoothly, easily and almost absentmindedly, pulling you closer to him when a drunk girl bumped into you.

So close you had to put a hand on his chest as to not look awkward and uncomfortable.

“The usual?” the bartender asked, making Sam only nod, trying to look intimidating.

You could feel Zemo’s heartbeat fast beneath your hand, it seemed his calm exterior may have been just an act.

The bartender set to work, making two normal shots of what you assumed was probably rum or tequila, before setting to work on Sam’s drink.

It was made with at least three different liquors, and you nearly jumped when the bartender pulled a cobra from a glass jar, tossing it on the counter and cutting it open from head to tail, easily pulling out its heart and plopping it in the drink.

You almost snorted, there was no way Sam was going to do it.

The bartender set the two normal shots in front of you and Zemo, and slid the more intricate drink in front of Sam.

“Ah, Smiling Tiger, your favorite!” Zemo exclaimed as Sam reluctantly picked up the glass, inspecting it.

Zemo handed you one of the other shots, taking the other in his hand not on your hip.

“Cheers Comrad,” Zemo told Sam, clinking his glass against the other man’s before turning to you, leaning down so his lips were by your ear, “and you, dorogoy.”

You had no idea what that meant as you weren’t exactly fluent in Russian, one of the main spoken languages of the Sokovians, but nonetheless gave your fake date a dazzling smile before tossing back the alcohol.

It burned your throat as it went down, almost making you feel dizzy, it seemed to be stronger than the average alcohol.

Sam was hyping himself up it seemed, the bartender was obviously getting suspicious. You managed to shoot a look that said “hurry the fuck up” to him and he finally tossed it back, obviously disgusted as he did so.

But at least the bartender seemed satisfied.

“I got word from on high, you ain’t welcome here,” the bartender said pointedly to Zemo, who had Bucky standing close behind him, rather good at keeping up the Winter Soldier persona.

“I have no business with the Power Broker,” Zemo began, “but if he insists, he can either came and talk to me, or bring Selby for a chat.”

“New haircut?” the bartender asked Bucky suddenly, who only gave him a deadpan look.

When the bartender looked away, Bucky leaned over to Zemo, “A power broker, really?”.

“Every kingdom needs its king,” Zemo replied, smiling a bit. “Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.”

“Do you know him?” Sam asked.

“Only by reputation. In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner,” Zemo told him.

Suddenly a man saddled up beside Bucky, telling him something you didn’t understand in Russian.

That was all it took for Bucky to grab him, shoving you and Zemo out of the way as he slammed the man into the bar, bending his arm back and making the man groan in pain.

The sound of guns cocking around you filled the air, and Zemo moved in front of you as he leaned towards Bucky and whispered, “Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.”

“Selby will see you now,” a man said as he appeared beside Bucky, who let the man go.

“Thank you,” Zemo said, wrapping an arm around your waist again as he led you away, Bucky and Sam trailing behind you both.

You were all led to a back room where the club’s music was quieter, making you wonder if the others inside would be able to hear if you all got shot.

The room looked to be an office of some sort, couches and a desk were the main staples of the room, along with the bodyguards stationed around the room.

Zemo sat down on one of the couches, easily pulling you down onto his lap so you sat sideways, legs hanging off one side and one arm going to rest behind him, the fur of his coat tickling you a bit.

You did your best to look like the bimbo arm candy you were playing, even going as far as leaning into Zemo’s chest, and placing a kiss on his cheek.

His arm wrapped tighter around you, hand gripping your waist.

“Don’t get any ideas,” you whispered to him as a woman with short white hair entered the room. This must be Selby.

“You should know Baron,” Selby began, taking her place on a couch across from you and Zemo, “people don’t just come into my bar and make demands.”

“Not a demand, an offer,” Zemo spoke as you fiddled with the fur on the back of his coat nervously.

"A lot has changed since you were last here,” Selby replied, “by the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”.

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo answered, voice unwavering. “I’m sure you have already heard what I’m here for.”

“You’re taller than I’ve heard, Smiling Tiger,” Selby commented, half ignoring Zemo.

Sam gave Selby a convincing smile, so she turned back to Zemo, “What’s the offer?”.

Zemo smirked, “Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum and I give you him, along with the code words to control him of course,” Zemo spoke, nodding in Bucky’s direction, “he’ll do anything you want.”

Selby smiled, leaning back on the couch, “What about her?” she asked, motioning to you perched on the Baron’s lap, “She’s a pretty one Helmut.”

While your heart pounded in your chest, Zemo only gave you a small smile, his hand moving to cup your cheek, gloved thumb rubbing against the warm skin, “Isn’t she? But I’m afraid this little bird is mine.”

Your face got hot, but you managed a ditzy giggle, grabbing Zemo’s hand from your cheek and holding it in your lap, giving it a squeeze. Maybe a bit too hard.

“Too bad, I could think of plenty of people who would gladly take her to bed,” Selby commented, shrugging off the fact she essentially wanted to pimp you out.

Zemo must have felt you tense up because he gave your hand a light squeeze, leaning over to whisper to you as Selby moved to ‘inspect’ Bucky.

“I won’t let anything happen,” he reassured quietly, making you nod.

While you really tried to hate this man still, it was hard not too when he’d just promised to protect you from the psychopath you were doing business with.

“I’m glad I didn’t kill you immediately, you were right to come to me,” Selby suddenly spoke up, seemingly satisfied with the deal offered to her. “Arrogant, but right.”

Zemo nodded, motioning for her to go on.

“The serum is here in Madripoor, Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you want to thank…or condemn, depending on what side you’re on,” Selby explained. “The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still here in Madripoor?” Zemo asked.

“Oh,” Selby answered, almost mockingly, “the bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.”

Zemo opened his mouth to reply but the vibration of a phone broke the silence, all eyes fell on Sam, who looked like he wanted the Earth to open up and swallow him whole.

Selby frowned, “Answer it, on speaker.”

Sam pulled his phone from his pocket, doing as told, “Hello?”.

“Hey, we need to talk about the situation, it’s been driving me nuts,” came the voice of Sam’s sister, Sarah.

“What situation are we talking about exactly?” Sam asked, trying to keep up the tough guy exterior.

“Are you high?” Sarah exclaimed on the other end, “You know exactly what situation, it’s the only situation you and I have!”.

“What situation Sarah? Say it!” Sam commanded, raising his voice.

You could feel yourself beginning to sweat, this was going downhill fast.

“The damn boat! And watch your tone okay? I let you slide at the bank.”

Sam scoffed, “The bank, yeah. Laundered so much…they’ll come around.”

“If that was the case, why did they dog you out, Big Time?” Sarah asked, obviously annoyed.

“Yeah, you damn right I’m big time, you’ll see when I have that banker killed,” Sam answered, trying to sound cocky.

“Cass! What’d I tell you about the Cheerios? I don’t have time for this! Sam, listen, I’ll have to call you back,” Sarah spoke, and with that, hung up.

Your heels were kicked off and you were ready to run.

“Sam? Who’s Sam?” Selby asked, your heart dropped, “Kill them!”.

You jumped, Zemo joining you shortly after, but before any of you could pull a gun, the sound of glass shattering filled the room, along with a sickening crack as a bullet pierced Selby’s skull from an unseen shooter, killing her instantly.

All of you ran, Zemo grabbing your hand and pulling you from the club, weaving you through sweaty bodies and out into the cool night air.

“They’re gonna pin this on us!” Sam spoke hurriedly as you all began power walking down the street, you stumble a bit as Zemo pulled you along.

“We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead,” Zemo reassured, continuing back the way you’d came.

Phones began pinging around you and it wasn’t long before the sound of gun shots filled the air, some whizzing right past you.

“Shit!” Sam yelled as you all scrambled, Bucky and Sam continued running forwards, while Zemo pulled you down an alleyway, both of you sprinting, breathing hard, his hand never leaving yours.

Your path was blocked suddenly by a rather larger man, and before he could react you ripped your hand away from Zemo’s, reaching for the knife in its holster on your thigh and tossing it, the blade sinking into the man’s chest.

“Come on!” you shouted, grabbing Zemo’s hand once again, as it was your turn to pull him away from danger.

You felt relieved when you spotted Bucky and Sam at the end of the alley you’d turned into, both staring in confusion at a dead man laying on the ground.

“Seems you have a guardian angel,” Sam was saying as you and Zemo stopped, catching your breath.

“You okay?” Bucky asked you, and you nodded, still trying to breathe normally.

“Well, isn’t this just perfect,” came a voice behind you.

You whipped around to find the last person you expected to be there. Sharon Carter.

For you, I would cross the line.

Music shook Sharon’s large home, you were almost afraid some of the priceless art would fall due to the loud bass.

People danced, sweaty bodies moving to the beat of the music, or they stood around talking about the art surrounding you.

You sat at a small table, sipping the drink you’d gotten from the bar. Bucky and Sam were “patrolling” at a party of all places, and you could see Zemo on the dancefloor. He danced like the whitest dad at the neighborhood block party, but either the alcohol, or the fact it was sort of cute, made you giggle.

Zemo happened to look over as you were laughing, and you quickly tried to hide it by taking a sip of your drink, but it was obvious he saw you.

In minutes he was sitting across from you at the table, drink in hand, a bemused look at his face.

“Did I catch you smiling at me?” he asked, taking a sip of the amber liquid in his glass.

“Laughing, actually,” you retorted, leaning back and crossing your arms.

Zemo smirked, “You expect me to believe that, dorogoy?”.

“You dance like an old man,” you replied, looking away from him and to the dancefloor.

Surprisingly, Zemo laughed, a genuine one, making you smile a bit.

“Ah,” Zemo pointed to you, “there it is again.”

“Oh, shut up,” you told him, taking a drink from your own glass.

Zemo obliged, but still smiled as he leaned back in his chair.

It was silent between you both, before you spoke again,

“Would you really have protected me from Selby?” you asked, eyeing the man across from you.

“Of course, you had no business with her,” Zemo replied without hesitation.

“Even with my…background?” you asked, referring to your alliance with the Avengers.

The man chuckled, “Like I said, of course, you’ve proven you are much more than what I believed you to be.”

“And that would be?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought you’d be much like your friends, loyal to a fault, but you…you are much more. You know what you want, you know what you’re worth, I admire that,” Zemo told you, and you couldn’t help the blush that crept across your cheeks.

“Um…thank you,” you told him awkwardly.

“You are welcome,” Zemo told you, throwing back the rest of his drink, “now, you owe me a dance.”

You must have looked unsure, because Zemo smiled, standing and offering his hand to you, “I promise to not dance like an old man, as you put it. We must blend in, correct?”.

Sighing, you took his hand, and he led you to the dancefloor, more towards the edge, away from others. He took your hands, moving them so that they rested on his shoulders, and his moved to your waist, pulling you a bit closer.

While the song was fast and loud, you two moved slow, still to the beat, but nothing like the others jumping around you.

“Is this so bad?” Zemo asked, looking down at you.

“I suppose not, but you better be careful, one wrong move and Bucky will make you swallow your teeth,” you joked, making the Baron wince slightly.

“It will be hard not to cross that line with you, I must admit,” Zemo told you casually.

“You can’t fall for the first girl you meet out of prison,” you laughed, but the man in front of you looked serious.

He leaned down so that his face was closer to yours, his lips beside your ear, “How can I not when she is so beautiful?”.

A shiver went down your spine as one of his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you against him, his other hand sliding into yours.

You managed to get out a small laugh, “You’re smooth, I’ll give you that.”

I would fall from grace, just to touch your face.

After some help from Sharon in Madripoor and the imminent death of Dr. Nagel, who was shot by none other than Zemo himself, you were all hiding out in one of Zemo’s houses, this one located in Latvia, where the super soldiers were thought to be.

The sheets beneath you were cool and soft despite the heat radiating from your bare skin. You were laying on your side, watching the rise and fall of the Baron’s chest. He looked peaceful when sleeping, the seemingly permanent frown lines gone from his face.

If someone had told you a few days ago you would have slept with none other than Helmut Zemo, you probably would have punched them in the throat. But laying here beside him, the morning sun streaming through the window, you couldn’t help but smile.

Sam and Bucky had left you to “babysit” Zemo last night and hadn’t come back. If they found you like this, they’d surely kill Zemo, and then you, for “sleeping with the enemy”.

This would be your fall from grace for sure.

The Baron’s eyelids fluttered suddenly, slowly opening, blinking in the morning light. He sighed, blinking a few times before his eyes met yours.

A small smile broke across his face and he reached for you, easily pulling you on top of him, despite your slight protests.

“Shhh, just lay with me printsessa,” Zemo spoke, voice gravely from sleep.

You huffed, resting your head in the crook of his neck, his fingers trailed up and down your spine. He turned his head to plant a kiss on your forehead, making you giggle.

Zemo smiled in turn, resting his head back against the pillows.

It was silent besides the sound of you both breathing, both content to lay there forever, although you both knew it wouldn’t last. None of this would, but that wouldn’t stop you from pretending it would.

“They’re going to come for you, aren’t they?” you asked softly, tracing a scar on Zemo’s chest, more than likely from his years as a Colonel in the Sokovian army.

The Dora Milaje warned Bucky just yesterday they would come for Zemo, and that you would all have no choice but to hand him over.

Zemo sighed, arms wrapping around you, “I suppose…but that does not mean I will be gone forever.”

“You’re going to escape The Raft?” you scoffed, making Zemo chuckle.

“Did Sam not do so?” he asked you, “Do you not believe in me?”.

You smiled and shook your head, “Of course I do…it’s just, they’ll find you, again and again.”

Zemo kissed the top of your head, “I’ll find you lyubov’, every time.”

If you walked away, I’d beg you on my knees to stay.

You gripped onto Zemo’s coat tightly, sobbing.

“Y-You can’t, you can’t go,” you whimpered, tears streaming down your face.

Everyone knew this would happen, you, Zemo, Bucky. You knew the Dora Milaje would come for him, but it was too soon.

You’d ran with him when Bucky and Sam were distracted by John Walker and the Dora Milaje when they’d all arrived at Zemo’s home in Latvia. You two spent an amazing night at another one of his safe houses.

When he brought you to the Sokovia memorial, you knew he was saying goodbye before Bucky even showed.

“I have to,” Zemo told you calmly, gently prying your hands off his coat. You only wrapped your arms around his waist, wishing that if you held him tight enough, he wouldn’t leave.

“Please,” you choked out, “you don’t have to take him.”

You moved to look at the members of the Dora Milaje standing behind Zemo, but you were only met with a cold glare, “He will pay for his crimes,” one of them told you.

Turning your attention back to Zemo, you were met with a man who accepted his fate. You wanted him to fight, to run, but he wouldn’t, you knew that.

Zemo took your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your lips, when he pulled away he kissed your forehead as well.

“Let me go, Moya lyubov’, I’ll find you,” Zemo told you softly.

You shook your head as Bucky grabbed you from behind, forcing you away from Zemo, holding you tightly against him as you thrashed, hitting his arms, kicking him.

Given he was at least 50 times stronger than yourself, it really wasn’t much of a fight on his end.

You watched helplessly as Zemo nodded to Bucky in thanks, giving you one last look before following the female warriors to their ship and boarding without a fight.

He only let you go when the ship disappeared from sight and you collapsed, the hard ground beneath you hurting your knees as you fell but you didn’t care.

You cried into your hands, your whole body shaking. The one good thing in your life in years and it was gone in seconds, he was gone in seconds.

“Come back,” you rasped out, “please.”

Bucky let you cry until your sobs had died and you’d stopped shaking. He carefully helped you up and away from the memorial.

“It’s better this way,” Bucky tried to reassure you, but you weren’t listening, you could only think of the phone number Zemo had put into your phone the night before. The number that with one call, could maybe get him back.

Oh lord save me, my drug is my baby, I’ll be using for the rest of my life.

Red lights flashed and sirens blared throughout the Raft, signaling a security breach. The lights inside went out and the emergency lights flashed on, illuminating everything in red.

Helmut Zemo sat up on his bed, raising an eyebrow.

Guards ran past the Baron’s cell, armed and ready for whatever, or whoever, had just breached one of the most top security prisons in the world.

The door of Helmut’s cell slid up moments later. Helmut stood, walking hesitantly towards to escape.

A shadow moved in the blinking red lights, walking towards him. Helmut had no weapons, but he’d go down fighting whatever the hell was coming towards him.

But the lights flashed again, illuminating a familiar face. Your hair was tied back, a gun in your grip.

“Dorogoy?” the Baron spoke.

When the lights flashed again you were smiling, running towards him now and when you slammed into him, wrapping your arms around him, Helmut felt his heart skip a beat.

Helmut’s fingers tangled into your hair as he held you tightly, afraid you’d disappear if he let go, still unsure if this was even real.

You buried your face into his shoulder, hugging him even tighter.

“I know what you mean now,” you told him, your voice muffled.

Helmut’s brow furrowed, pulling away from you.

“What?” he asked, making you smile.

“Love, it really does make you crazy,” you replied.

Helmut smiled, shaking his head slightly and pressing a kiss to your lips.

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy. If it doesn’t you ain’t doin’ it right.

#fatws #fatws spoilers #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #daniel brühl #helmut zemo angst #marvel #Bucky Barnes #sam wilson #don't blame me

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clacefe · 2 years

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Lifeline

Helmut Zemo x gn!reader

Summary: Your husband comforts you after a terrible experience.

Warnings: Descriptions of sexual assault, hurt & comfort.

(This happened to me a couple of months ago, and I didn't have a Zemo to comfort me. Please, if you have any troubles regarding SA, my messages are open.)

You did your best to hold in your hiccups as you walked back to your shared apartment. Your form was trembling slightly as you clutched your handbag closer to you; a form of security, perhaps even comfort.

With every look a random man on the street gave you as you passed them, you immediately turned your head and started walking a bit faster. Once your apartment building got into view, you almost ran to the front door.

You spammed the lift button, praying it’d come sooner than usual. The doors opened smoothly with a ding, and you dove in, immediately pressing the button of the uppermost floor.

Your breathing started to pick up again, the metal box appearing smaller and smaller with each inhale. The doors couldn’t have opened soon enough, and your hands shook as you tried to find your keys.

Your legs gave out on you, and you slid down the wall, gasping for breath. Your eyes caught the glint of the doorbell, and praying that Helmut was already home, you rang it. Again. And Again.

You were about to push it for the fourth time, until your husband opened the door, mumbling about the impoliteness of the person ringing the bell.

But then he saw you, eyes red-rimmed and body shaking. He immediately crouched next to you and started talking. You saw his mouth move but couldn’t understand what he was saying. It felt like you were underwater, drowning, unable to hear, unable to breathe with just the burn in your lungs accompanying you.

“Helmut,” his name escaped your mouth with a whimper, it being the only thing you’re able to say.

The moment that he picked you up from the floor, you looped your arms around his neck, burying your head there as well.

He sat down on the couch with you in his lap. Being in his arms made your breathing even out a bit. Like the water was being pulled out of your lungs, and you could finally breathe again.

“Mīla, what happened?” his voice was dripping with concern.

You closed your eyes tightly, the pit in your stomach deepening as you recalled what happened.

“I- I was on the metro, like usual, you know? Of course with me being stupid, I took it during rush hour. And well, it, uh, it was packed. The- the man behind me–” you had to stop, screwing your eyes shut and burying your head once again in Helmut’s neck.

His grip tightened on you, and after inhaling deeply, he asked, “What did he do, mīlulis?”

“He- he started grinding his… his–” You burst out in tears again, clinging to your husband as if he was your lifeline.

Zemo didn’t need to hear anything more, he understood what happened, and he was murderous. But the killing could happen at a later date, right now he had a wife to take care of.

He put his finger under your chin and tilted your head to meet his gaze. The tears swimming in your eyes made him want to hide you away from this cruel world.

“Oh, mīla, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. But I’m here now. How about I run you a bath?”

You nodded silently, wanting that disgusting man’s touch off of your body.

You held his hand tightly as he led you to the lavish bathroom in the penthouse. He set you down on a stool near the bath and opened the faucet, letting hot water rush down.

Then he turned to you and gently started to undress you, opening the buttons of your blouse one by one and letting it slide down your shoulders. Once you were fully rid of clothing, he took your hand and helped you sit down in the bath.

He started with your favourite soap first, the smell soothing you as well as his touch. Then he used the shampoo, and in no time you were towelled down and ushered into the softest pair of pyjamas you owned.

You two lay down on the king-sized bed, the sheets rustling beneath you. For a moment, there was only silence. Just the two of you, and nothing else.

“It’s all my fault,” you whispered your voice hoarse, “if I’d just stayed half an hour extra at work…”

Helmut climbed on top of you and cupped your cheeks, “Hey, this isn’t your fault, you understand?”

You looked at him, still unconvinced.

He kissed your forehead. “You’re strong.”

Then your cheek. “And brave.”

He started trailing kisses all over your body, whispering encouraging things after each one.

And by the end of the night, as you lay naked next to your husband, you couldn’t help but feel that he was right after all of his loving touches.

#helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x you #zemo x y/n #zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo imagine #baron zemo #oneshot #comfort #hurt/comfort #marvel #marvel mcu #tfatws #falcon and the winter soldier

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mlmxreader · 1 year

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Snow Day | Helmut Zemo x m!reader

anonymous asked: Helmut with And this one's for you

summary: you and Zemo get to spend the day together, only it's the weather that makes you actually have a plan for the day.

tws: swearing, smoking, mentions of violence

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Snow was coming down thick and heavy, blanketing the outside the same way that a duvet would, completely covering and swallowing everything it touched; it was early, the clock hardly touching seven o'clock in the morning, and already Zemo could feel the bed beside him was cold and barren, and the smell of coffee was hard to ignore as he dragged himself out of bed.

The clouds were a thick grey, almost black as they clung to the pale grey coloured skies; the wind howled against the window frames and the doors, begging to be let inside, and the ice made everything so slick that even pigeons couldn't cling to the branches of densely covered trees. Zemo sighed when he saw you in the kitchen, standing in front of a white canvas; he tilted his head to the side as he let out a yawn.

His hair, usually so neat and so tidy, often slicked and combed so that every single strand would sit properly, was messy; sticking up this way and that way, ruffled and unkempt. A reminder of what had happened the previous night, as well as how he had tossed and turned in his sleep every time you broke the way that he held you so tightly; bags under his dark brown eyes, and even worse, his scruff was starting to grow out again.

The chill of the air was the first thing to hit his bare chest, making his breath hitch as he clenched his jaw slightly; it crept down to his bare legs, nearly gracing the waistband of his boxers as he wished that he had thought twice and had put his dressing gown on. Or brought the duvet with him.

"Mein Bärchen?"

You hummed as you looked at him, a smile coming to your lips as you gestured for him to stand next to you. "It's snowing."

"I can see that."

"I'm just thinking," you started, "the last time we were together when it snowed, when we spent all day watching horror films, all snuggled up."

He nodded slowly, his hand coming to the small of your back as he dared to flash you a tired smile, doing his best not to yawn and not to shiver. Fuck, you were so warm. All wrapped up in his hoodie, a pair of thick and soft pyjama bottoms, fuzzy socks; he wished he had thought of that.

"And you want to do it again?"

You nodded, daring to meet his gaze as you raised your brows a little bit. So fucking hopeful that he worried it would almost kill you. "Please? If you're not busy helping Captain America, that is."

Zemo scoffed, shaking his head as he let out a quiet hum, dipping his hand under your hoodie and grumbling at how warm you felt against him. "I think we could probably arrange it."

"Really?"

"Natürlich," he shrugged. "Anything for mein geliebter... mein Mann."

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you were too tired to do so as you broke away from him, forcing a sigh from the back of his throat as he shook his head and took a seat at the breakfast bar; it was his turn to pose in front of the white canvas this time, and before he could say anything, you were already taking a picture on your phone, making him smile as he wondered what could possibly go wrong.

Last time, he had the Punisher threatening him, as well as the infamous Wolverine; he wondered if they would do it again, given that they were your self-appointed bodyguards. That always made him laugh. They weren't bodyguards, just overprotective friends of yours... but, taking pictures made you happy, and Zemo would do anything to keep you that way.

He didn't say anything as you made two cups of coffee, merely watching you with the sort of tender curiosity that came with being together for so long; the first time he had met you was so long ago, now, but the memory was still fresh as wounding from barbed wire. He happened to be sitting in a little café with Sam when you had strolled in with Frank; he thought you were handsome from the moment he saw you, and when he heard your voice, he knew he had never heard a complaint about music in the car sound so good before.

Nothing changed since. He still knew you were handsome, still reminded you of it every time he got the chance; still loved to hear you talk, no matter what the subject was. Still loved to hear you laugh and to see your smile. You still took his breath away when you dressed up in the fancy suits and tuxedos he bought you for when he took you out; only ever the finest for the Baron's boyfriend. Fuck, you still took his breath away when you were wearing stained jogging bottoms and a ratty old hoodie.

"And this one's for you," you gently pushed the mug across the breakfast bar. "Biscuits?"

Zemo thought about it for a moment, pursing his lips before he nodded. "Sure."

He took the opportunity to check you out as you rummaged for them in the cupboard, chewing at the inside of his lip and trying not to say anything, but he couldn't stop himself.

"You look so good today."

You grinned as you brought the biscuits down, shaking your head as you scoffed. "You tell me that every day."

"And?" He raised a brow. "You look good every day."

"You're terrible," you told him, taking a swig from your coffee. "Smoke?"

"I'd love one," he agreed. "So, horror films and blankets today?"

You nodded as you started to roll cigarettes. "Unless there's anything you wanna do?"

"Be with you," Zemo said softly. "As always, mein Mann... you know I'm happy as long as you're happy."

You rolled your eyes but your smile didn't fade, and he knew that he had you exactly where he had wanted you; trying not to laugh, grinning, happier than a pig in shit. You were everything to him, all he needed from you was to see you happy, to see you smile, and he would do anything to make sure of it; if you said it would make you happy, Zemo would have gladly beheaded kings and stabbed princes, he would have happily brought palaces down to rubble and dust. Anything for his beloved, for his man.

Anything for you.

"Come here," he gestured, and when you were close enough, he grabbed you, and swiftly pulled you down onto his lap. His arms around you securely, kissing your neck ever so softly. "Whatever you want to do, mein geliebter, I will happily go along with you."

"What if I said I wanted to go for a hike?"

"I'd go with you," he told you sincerely. "Du bist mein Herz. Just don't go anywhere I can't follow."

"I'm messing," you laughed softly, grinning. "I'm perfectly happy to just laze on the sofa with you..."

"As am I," Zemo agreed. "So, is it a date?"

"It's a date."

"Now," he gently bit at your skin. "Do you want me to finish rolling?"

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morguevampire · 1 year

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(Un) Fortunate Encounters - Masterlist

This is the masterlist for a multi-chapter Helmut x fem!reader fic that I am currently working on! It's a slow build romance and my first adventure into the Zemonation!

Let me know what you think! Comments, likes, reblogs are always appreciated!

***

summary: You already had enough shit to deal with in your life and probably could have done without bumping into a wanted Sokovian terrorist/criminal by accident. Of course this random encounter had to turn into a whole new mess but could it perhaps turn into something beautiful?

warnings/tags: fluff, smut, angst, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of torture, drinking, mild alcoholism, dark themes, slow build romance, not really Stockholm syndrome but that’s up for interpretation

chapters: 4/?

pairings: Helmut Zemo x fem!Reader

You can also find this work on Archive of Our Own

***

Chapter One: Strangers Chapter Two: Unconscious Chapter Three: Unfamiliar Chapter Four: Night Terrors Chapter Five: Exploring Chapter Six: Stitches

#masterlist #helmut zemo #helmut zemo fanfiction #zemo fanfiction #Helmut Zemo x Reader #Helmut Zemo & Reader #Helmut Zemo x you #Helmut Zemo/reader #Baron zemo x reader #MCU #FATWS

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free-for-all-fics · 1 year

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Random Zemo thought but all this talk about and love for Zemo’s coat makes me want a Selkie AU fic!

Zemo is a Selkie and reader gets his coat. Whether he gives it to her, she finds it, or she gives it back to him, up to you. I’m just thinking about Zemo claiming reader as his wife, whether she willingly knew about Selkie coats or not. Could be dark with Zemo pretending to be human and tricking her into marriage, or could be fluffy with them meeting on the beach. I just love monster AUs so much and I wish there were more for Zemo. 💜

“Sometimes it is revealed she already had a first husband of her own kind.” Maybe Selkie! Zemo already was married to Heike, also a Selkie and they had their son, Carl, but he lost both of them tragically. He’s a widower and he wants another wife, another chance at a family. A human wife, so that she’ll be safe from hunters who are after seal skin and he can protect her from other dangers.

“Male selkies are described as being very handsome in their human form, and having great seductive powers over human women. They typically seek those who are dissatisfied with their lives, such as married women waiting for their fishermen husbands.” Perhaps Selkie!Zemo is dark and either manipulates reader into coming with him and takes advantage of her vulnerable emotional and mental state while she’s dissatisfied with her life, or he’s fluffy and his intentions are pure when he comes to save reader from her life on land.

#Zemo x reader #Zemo x you #dark!helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #selkie au #random fic ideas #fic ideas #please tag me if you write this #i’d love to read it

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undercoverpena · 2 years

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I just saw that zemo isn't in the thunderbolts movie and im devastated and would really love some headcanons when you ask him to massage you to cheer me up🥴

never say never. marvel are sneaky snakes, so we don’t know yet fully if he is/isn’t. i’m holding out hope that they’re just trying to keep us on our toes.

also this got away from me, sorry not sorry.

On Your Back

Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

_________________

“You’ve hurt your neck.”

You paused your movements, fingers falling from your neck as you close your eyes, sighing, as you turn to face him.

The most annoying thing about him being here, is that nothing goes unnoticed. You expect it’s the very reason he was able to commit the crimes he did. He’s detail-orientated, patient, observant.

“You keep rubbing your neck, yes?”

When you open your eyes, your glare must say enough because the corners of his lips twitch upwards. “Am I? I wasn’t aware.”

He places his cup down, the steam swirling upwards as he comes around the kitchen counter. Your throat tightening, thighs pressing together as he does.

Because it’s hard to be around him.

Because you should be wary of him, not attracted to him. You shouldn’t want him near you, instead of constantly thinking about being under him.

It’s gotten worse since Latvia. Since the tension mounted to a height you’re surprised Walker didn’t notice, when he showed up.

And then you’d been free. His great escape providing breathing room, until Bucky picked him up, hid him, and landed him on your doorstep.

Please, just until we can be sure there’s 100% no more serum.

That had been two weeks ago.

Now, it’s getting harder and harder to fight Zemo for the sake of fighting him.

Especially when he looks at you with care, adoration even. When he keeps doing kind things like cooking for you, cleaning, and genuinely not being an asshole like you’d expected him to be when he was plonked under your care.

“I did warn you about moving the chaise alone.”

“I remember, Baron.”

He tuts. “If you can recall it, why didn’t you call for me? Now you’re hurt. I had told you to call for me if you were redesigning that room too.”

There are so many options you could consider.

Pain killers and a heat pad, a sedative for the Baron and a restful evening. Or, saying:

“Are you going to assist me or just keep pointing out hindsight’s? Because while you’re a pain in my side, this actually hurts more.”

He blinks.

You’re usually not short.

You’re sarcastic, and dry. Often purposefully argumentative, but not short. Not with him. You reserve that for Bucky—Bucky who asks you to be around handsome criminals and not expect you to drop to your knees for them.

“Of course.”

“Wh—“

“I’ll help,” he says, a curt nod.

And then he moves past you, beckoning you to follow. While you don’t what to follow his instruction, his outright demand, your reluctance is wearing thin quickly, following him through rooms in your home until you reach the room where the problematic chaise is.

You shoot a glare as he stops at the foot of it, hands rubbing together. “If this is you being an ass—“

“Lie down.”

You don’t move. His eyes narrowing, lips thin as he sighs. A set of expressions you’ve grown used to, usually brought on because of his displeasure at you not directly following one of his orders.

He sighs, turning on his heels, leaving the room. You hear his footsteps until you don’t, all set to berate him when you hear a clatter, and his footsteps getting louder and louder.

In his hands are lotions, ones he must have noticed prior to now to have found them so quickly. His eyes scanning over you as he returns to the place he was.

“Lie down. Please.”

You hesitate, but for different reasons, moving closer to the chaise as you say, “It’s my back too. If… if you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“And what is it that you think I’m about to do?”

You hate his smirk. Even if you don’t. You swallow it all quickly regardless. “I assumed offer me a massage?”

“You assumed correctly.”

“So,” you continue, “It won’t solve all my problems if you get me to lie on the chaise, if that’s your intention.”

He smiles, more deviously than you liked.

Which is why you ended up on your bed. The cool air brushing over your skin, your cheeks warm, almost burning through your duvet as you wait for him to enter the room.

He’d insisted on being outside when you removed your upper clothing. Him placing both a towel down on the bed, and handing you one—as if he was a professional masseuse.

“One is for any mess—“ his comment sparking a raise eyebrow. “The other is to cover yourself, to feel comfortable, until I enter.”

You try to reply in an even tone when he asks if you’re comfortable, because you’re not. How can you be? You’re topless, even face down, with him about to massage your strained muscles.

A barrage of thoughts attacking you, faux snapshots of disapproval from Bucky flashing through your mind accompanying all the ways in which this was bad. Especially when the mattress dips, and you feel his knees either side of your thighs.

Because, you should tell him this is a bad idea. Even if it’ll feel nice, even if will stop the pain from pulsing. This was too far.

Your brain hurriedly trying to assess all the rights and wrongs, wants and needs.

“Be aware, I have attempted to warm my hands, however—“

You gasp.

The decision removed as Zemo’s fingers slide over your shoulders, the coolness of his fingers on your skin both soothing and welcomed. Each digit adding a slightly different pressure, as if knowing exactly which parts are causing you discomfort.

And you should hate it. That his touch is precise, that it’s nice, that you want him to slide his palms down your back and rid the ache from the centre of your spine too.

Your lips even about to ask as much, because you’re already over the line. The two of you having galloped so far over it, you weren’t sure you’d get back on the right side of it.

But a hand moves, instinctively. One focusing on an area between your shoulder and neck, and the other sliding to the part close to the second pain point.

“Is it here, the pain?” he asks, his voice darker even in his low volume as he presses the base of his palm down, your spine curling as he does so. “Ah, it is.”

You clench your eyes shut, the pain loosening, his fingers and palm massaging whatever grievance there was from you. Just as the scent of the lotion he used met your nose.

It’s one you recognise, one you remembered smelling in the store. A treat, you’d mused to yourself. One you hadn’t indulged in until now.

And what a unique treat it was.

Especially when his hands moved from soothing to massaging the untouched parts of your back. Ensuring he rubbed your neck, your shoulders. Dipping fingers into your shoulder blades, likely drawing patterns in lotion on your back.

But he always returns to your neck, to your spine. Every movement so calculated, it relaxes you—actually unlocks the tension from your muscles.

Each slide of his fingers, each motion of his palm, wrist and arm settling it all. Making it almost seem worth it for the hours of discomfort moving the chaise caused for all of this.

Because he’s lighting your skin on fire and soothing it all at once. It’s not enough, him just touching you here, now awakening more of your desire to have his hands elsewhere, realising how purposeful he is.

Knowing it’s likely, although not guaranteed, that while he hasn’t ever been with you, he’d know the exact ways to make your toes curl.

It’s this lulled state and ridiculous thoughts which are the cause for why you moan his name. Not Zemo. Not Baron, as you’ve been teasingly calling him.

“Oh, Helmut.”

Your eyes widen, even against the duvet. Your muscles, all of them, flexing into a tensed state. Even his hands stopping, halting. Neither of you even daring to breathe.

He should move. That’s all you think. He should leave the room and you should avoid seeing him for the remainder of his time here—create a schedule, if you have to. Share and split off the rooms in the house—

“Who knew you could make such sweet sounds, Liebling.”

Your eyes flick to the side, frowning, instinctively wanting to clench your thighs together. Because fuck. Double, almost triple fuck.

Needing, and wanting to turn to look at him. Especially when he places both palms on your back gently, less massaging, and more a reminder he’s there and remaining so.

“It’s important you listen now,” he says, leaning down, mouth closer to your ear.

You’re sure you can feel his heart hammering against your spine, even through his top. Even without him being flat against you.

“I think there’s a high probability that you’re as tired of playing this game, yes?” he whispers, fingers spreading out over your skin. “And while you’re in pain, I don’t believe where my hands are now, is the only place you’d like them.”

If your cheeks weren’t already on fire before, they’re now molten. Threatening to torch your bed, and everything else in the room.

“Now is the time you tell me if I’m wrong, Liebling,” he says, returning to kneeling upright.

And you contemplate.

Briefly.

“My back… it still hurts…” you mumble, your head turning more sideways, trying to gain a view of him. “But, no.”

“No?”

“No. You’re not wrong.”

You’d kill to see if he’s smirking or tilting his head. Half tempted to try and roll, even if it meant displaying yourself to him.

But, you’re unsure if it would inflict more pain, your neck less bothersome but your back still twinging.

Until he moves, your focus shifting, slowly gripping the towel under you as you try to roll, finding him watching you, a curious and lustful look on his face as you meet his eyes.

Likely having waited, wanting you to move to face him.

“Zemo…”

“Helmut,” he corrects. “Helmut is the name I’d prefer when you’re begging me not to stop.”

He smirks, rubbing his hands together before he places a knee on the bed.

“I wouldn’t worry about your back, Liebling,” he says, placing his hand down beside your waist. “I’ll only need you to keep still, and remain on it and nil else. Do you think you’ll be able to do that?”

#baron zemo #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x fem!reader #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x y/n #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #baron zemo x fem!reader #daniel brühl x reader

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