#Daniel Brühl x reader

[andy-15-07]

A Love Unscripted

Summary: Daniel and Y/N, co-stars on a film set, experience an intense connection that quickly blossoms into love. As they navigate their deepening relationship, they find that their off-screen romance becomes the greatest story of their lives.

Paring: Daniel Brühl x reader

Words count: 2907

Daniel Brühl Masterlist | Masterlist

It was a bright, crisp morning in Berlin, and the air buzzed with excitement as the cast and crew gathered for the first day of shooting. This was no ordinary film set—this was the next big project from a critically acclaimed director, and everyone knew it had the potential to be a masterpiece. The title of the film, still under wraps, hinted at a deep, emotional journey that would challenge both the actors and the audience.

Y/N arrived on set with a mix of nerves and excitement, feeling the weight of this opportunity. It was their first major role, and although they had done their fair share of indie films and theater, this was different. The script had resonated deeply with Y/N when they first read it, and they knew this role could be a turning point in their career.

As Y/N stepped out of their trailer, adjusting the costume that already felt like a second skin, they noticed a familiar face on set. Daniel Brühl was speaking with the director, his warm, easygoing smile lighting up his features. Y/N had always admired Daniel’s work from afar—the subtlety of his performances, the way he could convey so much with just a glance or a slight change in his expression. Meeting him in person, however, was something they hadn’t quite prepared for.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N walked over to where Daniel and the director were chatting. As they approached, the director noticed Y/N and smiled broadly. "Ah, Y/N! Perfect timing. Come meet your co-star."

Daniel turned towards Y/N, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. His eyes met Y/N’s, and there was an unmistakable spark—a connection that went beyond the usual pleasantries of a first meeting. Daniel’s smile widened, and there was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put Y/N at ease.

“Hi, I’m Daniel,” he said, extending his hand.

“Y/N,” they replied, shaking his hand. The touch lingered a bit longer than necessary, and Y/N felt a strange but pleasant flutter in their chest.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” Daniel continued, his voice smooth and genuinely kind. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”

Y/N chuckled, trying to ignore the heat rising to their cheeks. “Well, I hope I can live up to the hype.”

“I’m sure you will,” Daniel said, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s. “I watched some of your previous work. You’re really talented.”

Y/N was caught off guard by the compliment. “Thank you, that means a lot coming from you.”

Before the conversation could continue, the director clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s get started! We’ve got a lot to cover today.”

The first scene they were shooting was a pivotal one—an intense confrontation between Y/N and Daniel’s characters. The air was charged with anticipation as the crew set up the shot. Y/N took their position, trying to focus on the character’s emotions, but found themselves distracted by the fact that Daniel was standing so close.

Daniel, sensing Y/N’s nervousness, leaned in slightly and whispered, “Don’t worry, just be in the moment. We’ve got this.”

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath. As soon as the director called “Action,” the transformation was instantaneous. Y/N slipped into their character’s mindset, and the world around them faded away. The scene required them to confront Daniel’s character, emotions running high as they delivered their lines with a mixture of anger and vulnerability.

Daniel was incredible. His performance was raw, powerful, and it drew Y/N in, making it easy to react naturally. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and it crackled with intensity, as if they had known each other for years instead of mere minutes.

When the director finally called “Cut,” there was a moment of stunned silence on set. Y/N blinked, coming back to reality, and noticed that the crew was staring at them with something like awe. The director had a wide grin on his face.

“That was fantastic!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “The chemistry between you two is electric. If we can capture even a fraction of that in every scene, we’ve got something truly special here.”

Y/N glanced over at Daniel, who was still looking at them with that same warm smile. “You were amazing,” he said softly, his eyes full of admiration.

“So were you,” Y/N replied, feeling the flutter in their chest return.

As the day progressed, the initial nerves melted away. Daniel and Y/N fell into an easy rhythm, their connection both on and off-screen growing stronger with each take. Between scenes, they would chat about everything from their favorite films to their experiences growing up in different parts of the world. They discovered they had a lot in common—a shared love for classic cinema, a penchant for exploring new places, and a mutual respect for the craft of acting.

During lunch, they found themselves sitting together, away from the rest of the cast and crew. It wasn’t intentional, but it felt natural, as if they had always gravitated toward each other. As they ate, their conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and the occasional teasing remark.

“You know,” Daniel said, leaning back in his chair, “I didn’t expect to meet someone who’s as passionate about cinema as I am.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a warmth in their heart. “I could say the same about you. It’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.”

Daniel nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s rare to find someone who really understands what it’s like to lose yourself in a role, to feel that connection with the character and the story. I can tell you’re someone who does.”

Y/N looked at Daniel, their eyes meeting once again. There was something in his gaze that made their heart skip a beat—an intensity, a depth that went beyond mere attraction. It was as if they were seeing each other, truly seeing each other, for the first time.

“I feel the same way,” Y/N admitted, their voice soft but sincere. “There’s something about this project, about working with you… It feels different. Special.”

Daniel’s gaze softened, and he reached across the table, his hand gently covering Y/N’s. “I feel it too,” he said quietly. “I think this could be the start of something really wonderful.”

The rest of the shoot passed in a blur. Days turned into weeks, and with each passing moment, Y/N and Daniel’s connection deepened. Their scenes together were electric, filled with a chemistry that was palpable to everyone on set. Off-camera, they spent more and more time together, often finding excuses to stay late after a day of shooting just to talk, to be in each other’s company.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of filming, they decided to take a walk around the city. The night was cool, the streets quiet as they wandered aimlessly, talking about everything and nothing. Daniel seemed more relaxed than usual, his usual charisma softened by the late hour and the intimacy of the moment.

As they walked along the Spree River, the moonlight reflecting off the water, Daniel suddenly stopped. Y/N, who had been in the middle of a story, turned to look at him in surprise.

“Is everything okay?” Y/N asked, concerned.

Daniel smiled, a little sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s just… I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

Y/N’s heart began to race, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation bubbling up inside them. “What is it?”

Daniel hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

The question caught Y/N off guard. They stared at Daniel, their mind racing. Did they believe in love at first sight? They had always thought it was something that only happened in movies, in the stories they told on screen. But as they looked into Daniel’s eyes, so full of sincerity and something deeper, something that felt a lot like love, they found themselves reconsidering.

“I’m not sure,” Y/N replied honestly. “But… I think I might be starting to.”

Daniel’s smile widened, and without another word, he took a step closer. The distance between them disappeared as he gently cupped Y/N’s face in his hands, his touch warm and reassuring. Y/N’s breath caught in their throat as Daniel leaned in, his lips brushing theirs in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and full of unspoken emotions.

The world seemed to fade away in that moment. There was no film set, no crew, no cameras—just the two of them, standing by the river, lost in each other. The kiss deepened, and Y/N felt a warmth spread through their entire body, a sense of rightness, of inevitability, as if this was exactly where they were meant to be.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they shared a quiet moment of connection.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment we met,” Daniel admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled, their heart full. “So have I.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten. It was a perfect moment, the kind that Y/N had only ever experienced in the movies they loved so much. But this wasn’t a script, and this wasn’t a role. This was real, and it was happening to them.

As they walked back to their hotel, hand in hand, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like they were living in a dream. But it was better than any dream they could have imagined—because it was real, and it was theirs.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of emotions, both on and off set. Their relationship blossomed quietly, just under the radar of the curious eyes of the cast and crew. Though they kept it professional during filming, it was impossible to hide the subtle glances, the shared smiles, and the way their hands would brush as they passed each other by.

Y/N found themselves falling deeper for Daniel with every passing day. He was kind and considerate, with a sense of humor that caught them off guard and made them laugh when they least expected it. They had never felt this way before, and it scared them as much as it thrilled them. But there was a comfort in Daniel’s presence, a sense of safety that made them feel like everything was going to be okay.

One afternoon, they had a rare day off from shooting, and Daniel suggested they explore the city together. Berlin was full of history and culture, and though Y/N had been there for weeks, they hadn’t had much time to truly experience it.

They spent the day wandering through art galleries and museums, stopping at cafes for coffee and pastries. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how Daniel seemed to know all the best spots, the hidden gems that only locals frequented. He would tell stories about the city’s history, pointing out landmarks and sharing little anecdotes that made Y/N feel like they were getting a private tour from someone who truly loved the place.

As the day turned into evening, they found themselves at a small, cozy restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. The candlelit atmosphere was intimate, and Y/N could feel their heart racing as they sat across from Daniel, the flickering light casting shadows across his handsome features.

“This place is beautiful,” Y/N said, looking around at the warm, inviting decor. “How did you find it?”

Daniel smiled, a little shyly. “I’ve been here a few times. It’s one of my favorite spots in the city. I thought you might like it.”

Y/N reached across the table, taking his hand in theirs. “I love it. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Daniel’s eyes softened, and he squeezed Y/N’s hand gently. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say,” he began, his voice serious.

Y/N felt a flutter of nerves in their stomach. “What is it?”

Daniel hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but… I can’t help the way I feel. From the moment we met, I felt this connection between us, something I’ve never experienced before. I don’t want to scare you off, but I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Y/N’s breath caught in their throat, their heart pounding in their chest. They had felt it too, but hearing Daniel say it out loud made it all the more real, all the more intense.

“I feel the same way,” Y/N admitted, their voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been trying to make sense of it, but… I think I’m falling for you too.”

The relief in Daniel’s eyes was palpable, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He stood up from his seat, moving to sit beside Y/N, and pulled them into a gentle embrace. Y/N melted into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against theirs, the steady beat of his heart under their cheek.

For a while, they just sat there, holding each other, letting the world outside fade away. It was as if time had stopped, leaving just the two of them in their own little bubble of happiness. They talked quietly, sharing their hopes and dreams, their fears and insecurities. It was easy to be vulnerable with Daniel, easy to let down the walls they had built around their heart.

As the evening wore on, they decided to head back to the hotel, their hands intertwined as they walked through the quiet streets. The city was alive with the soft hum of nightlife, but Y/N only had eyes for Daniel, who looked at them with such affection that it made their heart ache in the best possible way.

When they reached Y/N’s hotel room, they lingered outside the door, neither of them wanting the night to end. Daniel brushed a strand of hair from Y/N’s face, his touch tender and full of longing.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly, his voice full of emotion.

Y/N nodded, their heart racing. They opened the door, leading Daniel inside, and as soon as it closed behind them, he pulled them into a deep, passionate kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of all the emotions they had been holding back, all the desire and affection that had been building between them since the day they met.

They stumbled toward the bed, their lips never breaking contact, and as they fell into the soft sheets, Y/N knew this was where they were meant to be—wrapped in Daniel’s arms, lost in the feeling of being loved and cherished by someone who saw them for who they truly were.

The night was a blur of whispered words and tender touches, of shared laughter and quiet moments of connection. When they finally drifted off to sleep, tangled up in each other, Y/N felt a peace they had never known before. It was as if all the pieces of their life had finally fallen into place, and they knew, deep in their heart, that this was just the beginning of something truly beautiful.

The next morning, they woke up to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. Daniel was still asleep beside them, his face peaceful and relaxed, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile as they watched him. They had never felt this content, this happy, and they knew they had found something special, something worth holding onto.

As Daniel stirred awake, his eyes meeting Y/N’s with a sleepy smile, they leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Good morning,” Y/N whispered, their voice full of affection.

“Good morning,” Daniel replied, his voice husky with sleep. He pulled Y/N closer, his arms wrapping around them as if he never wanted to let go. “Last night was… incredible.”

“It was,” Y/N agreed, their heart swelling with emotion. “I don’t want this to end.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Daniel said, his gaze serious. “I meant what I said last night. I’m falling for you, Y/N, and I want to see where this goes. I don’t care about the logistics or what anyone else thinks. All I know is that I want to be with you.”

Tears pricked at Y/N’s eyes as they looked into Daniel’s sincere gaze. They had been so afraid to let themselves fall, but now that they had, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“I want that too,” Y/N said, their voice choked with emotion. “I want to be with you, Daniel.”

He smiled, a smile so full of warmth and love that it took Y/N’s breath away. “Then let’s make it happen. We’ll figure it out together.”

And so, they did. As the film production continued, so did their relationship, growing stronger with each passing day. They faced the challenges together, navigating the complexities of a public relationship in a private world, but nothing could diminish the connection they shared.

When the film finally wrapped, and it was time to say goodbye to the set and the characters they had brought to life, Y/N and Daniel knew that this was just the beginning of their story. They had found something real, something lasting, and as they walked hand in hand into the next chapter of their lives, they knew they were ready to face whatever came next, as long as they were together.

In the end, it wasn’t just a love story scripted for the screen—it was their love story, one that would continue to unfold in ways they could never have imagined. And as they looked into each other’s eyes, they knew that this was the greatest role they would ever play, not as actors, but as themselves, deeply in love and ready to take on the world, side by side.

[uses-for-fics]

Love is Embarrassing | Eric Bouchard

pt. 2 <~~ can be found here

YN stood in the back of the bustling film set, pencil in hand, watching as the crew adjusted the lights and the camera rolled into position. As a storyboard artist for ‘Tecto’, she had a front-row seat to the action, yet her gaze constantly wandered to the man behind the camera. Eric, the director, moved with a sharp precision, directing the crew and actors with an intensity that she admired. He was demanding, yes, but she loved being part of his vision, often on call for his constant script changes and feedback. Those were Eric’s orders.

Every time Eric called her over to discuss a scene or a shot, YN felt a flicker of excitement that went beyond the thrill of the job. It was no secret to herself—she harbored a deep crush on him, a feeling that had grown over the months working together but they never crossed that line. Theirs was a professional relationship, though every shared glance and conversation carried an undercurrent of something more.

As YN sketched, her pencil strokes tracing the sharp angles of Eric’s focused expression, a shadow loomed over her.

“Still drawing the boss, huh?” Adam’s teasing voice broke her concentration. He was the lead actor, playing Tecto, the hero of the movie, and always full of playful energy.

YN quickly closed her sketchbook, a blush rising to her cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, but Adam’s knowing grin made it clear she wasn’t fooling anyone.

Whenever there was downtime on set, YN found herself sketching Eric. It wasn’t like she could help it—he was her muse, his intensity and passion translating perfectly onto the page. She'd captured him in different moments: deep in thought, laughing with the crew, even the way his hair fell messily during long shoots.

She’d grown careful about it, always making sure to keep her distance, never letting on that she spent every spare moment drawing him but the feelings that poured into those sketches were impossible to ignore. For YN, it was a quiet way of expressing her affection for him, an outlet for what she couldn't say out loud.

Adam, of course, was more observant than YN had given him credit for. During one particular scene change, he had seen her sketching again, eyes focused solely on Eric. He teased her relentlessly about it, but this time, he took it a step further. When YN left her sketchbook on her chair to head to the restroom, Adam couldn’t resist.

With a mischievous grin, he flipped through the pages. His eyes widened as he saw drawing after drawing of Eric, each one capturing him perfectly. Chuckling to himself, Adam pulled out his phone and snapped a few pictures of the sketches. He knew just what to do. “Looks like you have a secret admirer.” He signed as he sent the photos to someone.

Moments later, Eric’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Eric was in the middle of reviewing a shot when he checked his phone, only to find a text from Adam. Attached were photos of YN’s drawings—of him. At first, he blinked in surprise. He had always appreciated YN’s artistic talents, but he hadn't realized she’d been using him as a subject so often.

A warm feeling stirred in his chest as he flipped through the images. The attention to detail, the way she had captured him so vividly—it struck him that YN had been quietly admiring him all this time, just as he had been doing with her.

He scanned to her usual spot. She was gone. Without thinking too much about it, he picked up his phone and dialed her number.

“YN,” he said when she answered, “I need your help with something urgent. There’s a script change I’d like your input on. Can you meet me after we wrap up today?”

YN was puzzled by Eric’s call. Script change? It wasn’t unusual for him to ask her for help, but there was something different in his voice this time. Nonetheless, she agreed, and after the day’s shoot ended, she met him at the quiet corner of the set where he waited.

“So, what’s this urgent change?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

Eric hesitated for a moment, his usual confidence wavering slightly. “It’s about a new scene I’m considering. A date scene, actually.”

YN blinked in confusion. “A date scene?”

“For you and me,” Eric clarified, his eyes meeting hers, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Off the script.”

Realization dawned on her. Her heart raced as she realized what he was saying. She hadn’t expected this, not after months of keeping her feelings hidden.

“I thought… maybe we should give it a shot,” Eric continued. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and, well… after seeing those sketches, I figured it was time.”

YN’s face flushed with embarrassment, but also a surge of excitement. Adam! She would have to thank him—and yell at him—later.

“Well,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, “I think I’d like that.” She covered her face with her hands. “I just can’t believe Adam would send you those sketches! It’s so embarrassing.”

Eric removed her hands from her face and smiled. “Love is embarrassing but it’s worth it no?”

Their date that night was the first of many. What had started as a quiet, unspoken attraction finally blossomed into something real. On set, things didn’t change much, at least not for the public eye, though there was a new spark between them that even the crew began to notice.

Adam, ever the troublemaker, couldn’t resist teasing them both. “You know, YN, I should start charging for my matchmaking services.”

YN only rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t deny it—Adam’s sneaky plan had given her the push she needed, and now, she was living the scenes she’d only sketched in the past.

[a-strange-echo]

Distracting kiss

Pairing: Daniel Brühl x gn!reader

Summary: Reader is feeling lonely on the set of Falcon and the Winter Soldier and just want some attention from their husband.

Word count: ~~

Warnings: PDA, reader is mischievous, fluff, only one French sentence and one in Spanish.

Author's note: I don't think I will finish the flufftober, I have been really busy and lost the want to write, this is the first thing I have written in a few weeks so... yeah. Also, it's my first time writing for Daniel Brühl so please, be indulgent. (There are not enough fanfics about this man, I swear-) AS ALWAYS: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGAGE

Author's feelings: I quite like this one, especially since it's been a while since I wrote and posted something.

The cast was on a break after the whole afternoon of shooting for an episode of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier series. There was only one scene left to shoot, and while some actors preferred to laugh together or eat something, Daniel was sitting on a chair rereading his script.

Y/N wanted their husband to spend more time with them even if they knew they technically were at work. They watched him from a few feet away. He seemed so entranced in what he was doing. His eyebrows were scrunched in a little frown they wanted to kiss away so badly, his delicate lips in a small, concentrated pout.

'He looks so cute.' Y/N thought, and they were sure they had a dreaming and love-sick expression on their face that anyone could see, but they didn't care.

"Why don't you go get your man?" A deep voice pulled them out of their reverie.

"Don't scare me like that, Seb!" They chastised with a slap to his arm.

"You just were so busy staring at Daniel that you didn't hear me talking to you." He clarified before taking a bite out of his pastries. "But anyway, go get him." He repeated as he pushed them slightly towards their husband.

"You know what? I have a better idea." They said with a mischievous smirk and departed in Daniel's direction.

Y/N sneaked behind him, being careful not to be heard. When they were close enough, they slid their arms around his neck, bending a little to be able to rest their head on his shoulder. He was a little startled at first but relaxed when he realized it was only his partner. He turned his head toward them and smiled back at them before going back to memorizing the script.

Y/N wasn't having it. They nuzzle their face in his neck before placing a slow, deep kiss on his neck, right below his ear. He leaned into the kiss, his eyes closed and a soft sigh escaping his lips.

"I love you." They whispered against his skin.

He didn't have time to fully understand what Y/N said before he felt them pull away and leave.

When they turned away, going back to Sebastian, who witnessed the whole thing, they had a satisfied smirk on their lips.

Daniel tried to focus back on the task at hand, but it seemed like the kiss sucked out all of his focus. He tried and tried to read the text, but he just found himself re-reading the same line again and again. After a few frustrating seconds, he found himself standing up and walking where he knew his lover would be: talking to their best friend Sebastian.

Y/N counted down out loud the seconds it would take their husband to go to them. And right on time, they felt two strong arms wrap around their waist and their husband's head on their shoulders. Y/N bend their arm to play with the man's hair just like he liked it with a smirk still plastered on their face.

"Hola, mi amor." He purred against their neck.

"Coucou, mon cœur." They smiled at him. "Told you I had a better idea, Seb." They teased the man who had a smile stretched on his face.

——————————

Translation: "Coucou, mon cœur" -> "Hi, sweetheart."

"Hola, mi amor" -> "Hello, my love"

[hereticpriest]

Red Carpet

Relationship: Dirk Brûlée x reader

Warnings: Public displays of affection, flirting, inappropriate touching in public, light mention of alcoholism and addiction recovery, vaginal fingering, breeding kink, possessive talk, affianced couple, pussy talk (iykyk)

It was your first red carpet event. Your first truly public event, in which you were not just attending with Dirk and staying on the sidelines while he did an interview or photoshoot. This wasn’t your instagram announcement - which had had the side effect of boosting your instagram and making you thank God that Dirk had gone through your profile with you to delete all of your embarrassing or exposing posts - or any of your frequent appearances on one of his many social media profiles. You would have to face red carpet interviews, paparazzi, professional photographers, and countless reporters.

Your dress was made by Hass Idriss, a sunset-coloured orange, red and purple dress of flowy fabrics and a crystalled structured bodice in long, angular, geometric patterns. The bodice and top of the flowing train is a pale grey-lilac, which becomes orange and purple as it reaches your hips. The back of the dress is formed of two crossed strips of fabric off of which the train flows, and otherwise the dress begins at your lower back. The bodice flows down in a series of godets and crystal detailing. Normally, it wouldn’t be anything you’d ever dare to wear, but Dirk had been slowly introducing you to more and more of his fashion designer friends, which led to you dressing in much more interesting clothes at work to your boss and the gallery patrons’ delight. You were starting to embrace your body and becoming more confident in your physical being, which led you here. 

The theme for tonight’s award event was mythology, and everyone was meant to be going all out on their choices. Attendees had to submit their mythology choice and theming to the event runners, and Dirk thanked god for your quickness, as you’d managed to snag Greek mythology before too many people could sign up for it. You knew plenty about mythology as it was a popular topic in art, but you knew you looked beautiful in drapery, and you had been to Greece once for a highschool trip, and again before your mother remarried as a mother-daughter trip. Dirk, who couldn’t care less so long as he got the chance to dress up, had been happy to go along with your preference.

Dirk was proudly dressed quite similarly to yourself in flowy fabrics, a take on some sort of sun god with expertly draped fabric across his chest in one direction with a pinned broach of the sun, and a geometric patterned gold translucent fabric draped across his chest in the other direction. The bottom was flowy white pants with the same gold fabric along the outer and inner leg to create something of a peak-a-boo. That fabric also created something of a cape which Dirk had delighted in swooshing at you dramatically while he was getting ready.

Both of you wore sharp, expertly applied golden eyeliner and gold freckles, and while Dirk wore only clear lip gloss for a shiny look, you had your top lip painted pitch black while the inside of the bottom lip was shaded and the rest remained nude and glossy. You would post an instagram photo later tonight of your original lip look, which was a liquid lipstick that looked like you’d dipped your lips in liquid gold. Unfortunately, its staying power was minimal at best, and your makeup artist decided instead to go for what she referred to as a ‘Shego’ look that might make you look burnt by the sun as the partner of the ‘sun god’. You got a good photo before taking it off, and promised to post it and tag her for credit later that evening.

You may or may not have bought the black lipstick online while she was finishing the rest of your makeup because you loved the lipstick look so much. It was also, thankfully, kissproof, which Dirk had determined after thoughtlessly kissing you while passing by you to get his shoes. Both of you were wearing gladiator sandals, and Dirk’s laced up to nearly his knees while yours were mostly hidden by your dress.

Your loving boyfriend spent most of the limo ride rubbing your back, pressing kisses along your shoulder and whispering about all the dirty things he was going to do to you when the night was over. Or, in the bathroom if you kept looking so pretty and sinful, he threatened gently. He knew you were terrified of flubbing on the red carpet, and he also knew the easiest way to distract you was by teasing you with what he’d do to you with your privacy tonight. Sean was spending the weekend at Nadia’s, which meant that Dirk had you all to himself. You were fairly sure he’d make good use of it, even if you were only wearing your paint-stained sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt.

As you arrive at the event, he steps out first, then offers you his hand with a flourish of his cape that you knew was as much for him as it was for the cameras. He was very fond of the cape. As you step out of the car, he strokes his thumb across your knuckles, guiding you away from the limo and leaning in to kiss you for all the cameras to see. Gentle fingers trace the shell of your ear, then tap the sparkly purple opal earrings you’re wearing that catch like fire in the light. You’re thoroughly distracted from the flash of photographers, and are only pulled out of it when he offers you his arm.

“I’ll answer most of the questions. Speak up when you feel comfortable, ma déesse.” Dirk whispers to you, and you nod, following him up towards the doors. He pauses as a couple of reporters call for him, leading you over and introducing you as his girlfriend, his arm protective around your waist.

“Dirk, lovely to see you! This is the first time you’ve brought a date to one of these events since… well, you know. It’s great to see you with someone. How long have you two been together?” A male reporter with a curled old-fashioned moustache asks, and Dirk slides his fingertips into the open back of your dress.

“We’ve been together for four months and six days.” Dirk replies, and you snicker, patting his ribs affectionately while his fingertips slip deeper into your dress. You knew it had been four months, but the number of days wasn’t something you were tracking.

“Very specific.” The man comments with a grin that says he likes the idea of Dirk being that into his partner, though you’re unsure if that’s because he wants Dirk to be happy or he wants the drama, “your looks are obviously inspired by Greek mythology, and it looks like you’ve got a sun and sunset theme going on. Who are you wearing?”

“Hass Idriss.” You answer for him, and the reporter lights up to see that you’re engaging, “there’s an artist whose sculptures capture and reimagine key moments in Greek mythology at the gallery where I work, and I couldn’t help but be inspired. I’m lucky Dirk went along with my idea.”

“Well, it seems to me that Dirk is the lucky one. You both look stunning. Could you spin for us, please, Miss…?”

“Brülée is fine.” You reply, obediently parting from Dirk’s side to do a dainty little spin that causes the fabric to flow out like licking flames around your legs. Cameras click, and your cheeks get hot as you return to Dirk’s side. He takes your hand, twisting it so that the ring on your finger catches the light. The reporter gasps, holding out his hand as if asking for a closer look, and you let him take your hand so he can examine your ring. Photographers take multiple photos, and you giggle as Dirk kisses your shoulder.

“So quickly! You two must really be in love.” The reporter exclaims, and you beam, letting Dirk turn you to face him so he can steal another kiss.

“We are. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love her and our boy.” Dirk admits, nuzzling his nose against yours and looking at you with all of the love in the world. The reporter gives a dreamy sigh, and another one cuts in to ask.

“Your boy?”

Dirk smiles, kissing your forehead reassuringly while you slowly turn to face the reporters.

“My parents passed away a few years ago, and my younger brother was very young, so I adopted him. He doesn’t remember them very well, so he calls me his mother, not his sister. I’ve raised him on my own the last few years, but he’s… he’s really blossomed with having a guy around to give him some of the attention that I can’t always give him. Dirk is amazing with kids, I think we all know that from the show alone, but it’s all real. He’s so good with Sean and his friends.” You explain, and Dirk presses another kiss to your temple, his hand sliding into the back of your dress again.

“Does the age difference between you both concern you at all?” A female reporter asks, and you shrug.

“Dirk never makes me feel like there’s an age difference at all. He doesn’t treat me like a lot of older men treat me, like they’re superior. He’s very young at heart. He likes learning new things, and he tends to be the one helping me figure out new technology or new apps. And… well, look at him.” You shrug, gesturing to Dirk, whose smug grin only grows more smug, “He’s gorgeous, and he isn’t suffering physically from his age in any way I’ve ever noticed. I’ve always been very, very satisfied.”

The reporters chitter with laughter and the moustached one even gives Dirk a fist bump that he accepts with a laugh. You both pose for a couple of photos, then head up the red carpet a bit further for a couple more similar interviews. You see several celebrities you know as you pose for photos with Dirk, and he pauses briefly to say hello to a few people he knows while you pretend you aren’t as starstruck and unsure as you are. A hand slips into the back of your dress to give the back of your thong a tug, and you jump, then slap Dirk on the chest while he snickers and leads you into the event.

Here is where your job truly begins. Dirk has notoriously avoided these events since he entered rehab due to the alcohol present, but he trusts himself, and more importantly, he trusts you. Tonight, your job is to keep Dirk suitably distracted and make sure he isn’t tempted with alcohol. As you both approach your table, you ask a passing server for two glasses of water, and instruct them not to offer anyone at your table any alcohol. The server seems confused for a moment, but agrees, and you both take a seat. There isn’t a dinner, and the servers are really only for drinks between awards, so you aren’t too worried. You pet Dirk’s arm as you sit obnoxiously close to him, thigh-to-thigh so that he can feel you, unworried that you look clingy in that moment because you know he needs you.

The awards ceremony is long, but Dirk wins an award for his supporting role in a comedy he’d filmed before you both met. He thanks you during his speech, not for supporting him through it as you hadn’t been around, but instead for everything you’ve done since. For loving him, accepting him, giving him the experience of being a sort of father figure, and hopefully soon the role of a father as well. That earns you both quite a few cheers, and you have to work not to hide from all of the attention. Dirk returns to your side and pulls you up into a passionate kiss, murmuring against your lips that he’d quite like to get started on making that baby when you both get home.

“I love you.” Dirk whispers against your lips while several people around you down their champagne.

“I love you more. If you weren’t already marrying me, I’d ask you this time.” You tease, and Dirk laughs against your lips, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“You already got me a ring, baby, don’t steal all my thunder.” He replies, and you both sit down together. He pulls your legs into his lap, running his hands soothingly over your thighs and knees.

“We should’ve gone to Vegas.” You retort, “I’ve already stopped my birth control. If you knock me up now, I’m going to look fat on our wedding day.”

“You stopped?” Dirk asks, and you do a very bad job hiding your grin behind your glass of water.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?”

Dirk’s Adam's apple bobs, and you bite your cheek to keep from giggling at his obvious arousal. You can already feel it pressing up against your legs draped oh so helpfully across his lap.

“We should go to the bathroom.” Dirk says quite suddenly, and you finally laugh, even as his hand tries to find its way under the skirt of your dress.

“I’m not letting you get me pregnant in the bathroom of an awards show, baby.”

“Aww, come on, mon amour. I just won an award, don’t you want to give me a better one?” He asks, and you giggle, finally pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Call the driver. I’ll let you have whatever you like as a reward when we get home, okay?”

And you do.

He takes you home, carefully undressing you both and hanging your outfits to be returned to the designer tomorrow. He carries you to your bedroom with a snarky comment about how he definitely isn’t showing his age, throwing you down onto the bed and demanding Alexa play your special playlist that you both created together. You barely protest as he folds you in half, biting your ankle, then your calf as he presses two fingers into you and presses his thumb into your clit.

“Hold your legs open, mon amour, give me room.” He commands, and you obey immediately. You promised him whatever he wanted, you’d be damned if you didn’t give it to him. You had plenty of time as the dominant partner in your relationship, and you would never say no to him wanting to take over.

“Je t’adore.” You murmur, and Dirk bends to steal a kiss, gentle as can be despite the way he fucks his fingers into you at a steady pace. They curl, stroking hard across your g-spot in a way that makes you arch and struggle, but Dirk pins your leg down on the bed to keep you spread wide open. He groans as you come around his fingers in no time flat, always eager for the times when you’re so easy to please he barely has to put any effort in.

“I can tell you’re off that shit, mon amour, your cunt is begging for me. Listen to her cry for more.” Dirk coos, rocking his fingers up and down within you to stimulate the walls of your cunt while simultaneously creating a loud squelching sound from the honey dripping from you, “So wet, love. I bet I can get you there tonight, can’t I?”

You whine, but Dirk ignores it, pulling his fingers free of you to rub against your clit aggressively. Your legs tense and twitch as he slips his fingers back inside of you. You jerk, and he chuckles, finding that perfect pace that he knows will take you apart while he leans up to kiss you. His gentle but passionate kiss is in stark contrast to the way he roughly unravels you, and you moan his name breathlessly into the kiss as you feel a particular pressure building.

“Gonna-” You gasp, and Dirk moans eagerly as you start to clench around his fingers, nearly vice-like as your hips jerk, and you squirt.

“Fuuuuck, yes baby, there it is. God, you’re so fucking perfect. Ma petite femme, squirting for me so perfectly. M’never letting you go back onto your birth control, baby. I’ll keep this pussy, my pussy, nice and full all the time, yeah? Would you like that?” Dirk asks, and you sob a nonsensical response that he seems to take as a yes. He doesn’t give you much of a chance to protest. Before you’ve even finished coming, he presses his cock into you, stretching you open in a way that’s almost mean. It hasn’t been that long since you both have fucked, but if you don’t take Dirk every day, you find it to be a bit of a stretch.

“S’too much.” You slur, but Dirk ignores you, enjoying the way your cunt seems to suck his cock in deeper.

“Non, ma belle, your pussy knows better. She wants more. She’s begging for more, can you hear her crying?” He asks, shushing you so you can hear the lewd squelch of his cock in your wet, sloppy cunt.

“Dirk, please!”

“I know, I know. I’ll give you everything you want, mon amour. I’ll fuck a baby into you, make you swell with my seed, and then marry you while you’re still barefoot and pregnant. God, you’re so fucking beautiful. So perfect. You feel like heaven around my cock, ma déesse.” Your fiance groans, pushing your legs up further so he can fuck himself deeper into you. He leans down for another kiss, licking up the drool that slips past your lips while you’re unable to stop moaning. You devour each other - starving, and desperate, and insatiable - all sharp, biting teeth and questing tongues. As Dirk gets closer, he rolls his hips deeper, holding you tightly to him as he kisses you. The angle of his hips grinds his pelvic bone into your clit just right, dragging you towards a third orgasm kicking and screaming. A loud groan slips from Dirk’s lips as he tips over the edge, and you cling to his back, nails digging into his shoulder blades as he pushes you over the edge with him.

You fall asleep pinned beneath Dirk’s weight just how you like it, his seed stuffed so deeply inside of you that it takes minutes before it slowly begins to leak out. Thankfully, he’s fairly sure it’s already taken by then.

[rhey-007]

𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐥

Daniel Brühl x supermodel!reader | 18+ soft smut

Summary: You're a supermodel hired to model Zegna's new collection along side Daniel Brühl, but your session takes an unexpected yet pleasant turn.

Pairing: soft/sub/nervous Daniel x bubbly/full of energy reader

Warnings: 18+, soft smut, semi public sex (?), blowjob

___________________________________________

Daniel wasn't a model but he did pretty good on photoshoots when he was alone, at least he hoped so. With a partner though? That was a whole nother story. That is why he was a little stressed this time. He was going to work with one of the best, and prettiest, models in the world – Y/N L/N – for ZEGNA's new fall/winter collection.

He arrived to the set way ahead of time to make sure he would be ready when you arrive. To his surprise you were already there, waiting for him, getting your hair done.

„Daniel! "

You chirped happily, noticing him in the mirror in front of you. The man corrected his collar nervously with a smile before making his way over to you. Instead of shaking your stretched out hand, as you would expect, he kissed it gently as a gentleman should - which took you aback but you didn’t complain.

„I'm really happy to finally meet you”

„I'm glad to meet you too! "

Daniel's voice was like honey to your ears making your skin shiver. You took a better look at him as he stood near you. He was even more handsome in real life than you could've imagined. When he sat down you noticed his leg jump like crazy – he was stressed... You didn’t like that... Not because he could 'ruin' the photoshoot. No... You knew it couldn’t happen, he was too good at it. But because you were afraid of his well being.

„Hey... It's gonna be okay. You're gonna do great... As always "

You whispered with a chuckle, your hand making it's way over to his jumping leg and soothing it gently. Those actions made Daniel's heart go crazy. He felt like he would have a heart attack soon if you kept rubbing his leg.

„I hope so... Don't want to ruin your photos after all "

You gasped theatricaly.

„Oh honey! You're the star here! Not me. I should be the one scared. But I'm not, and neither should you. Cause I KNOW you're gonna do amazing! "

Daniel admired your enthusiasm and faith in him. It seemed as if you had it more than himself. He chuckled to your words while looking down and softly shaking his head.

„Okay, okay. Let's say I believe you”

„You have to believe in yourself and not believe me”

Through the whole preparation, the man noticed your flirty demeanour and affectionate touches. He didn’t mind that though, he found it nice to get attention from women - especially from you - and now he felt relaxed in your presence.

You were a flirtatious person who usually didn’t notice they flirt with everyone, but with Daniel? Ohh... You were heads over heals with that man - you were since you found out about him which was quite a long time ago - and you flirted with him purposely, hoping to take him out for dinner later.

„Tell me... Is there some lady Brühl waiting for you back home or can I steal you for a few hours after the shoot to go eat something? "

You asked between conversations. Daniel shook his head softly then turned to face you with a smirk.

„I guess you can be my lady for the evening”

He blurted our before realizing what he just said and after he did, he turned back to the mirror, dark blush on his face. What that woman did to him...

„I would be flattered, dear”

The cheerful smile on your face made Daniel's knees weak, good thing he was sitting or he would've fallen down right there and then.

When the photographer arrived you started your job. He put you really close to Daniel. His smell was intoxicating, making you crave for him even more, and the closeness made him even more nervous than before.

You were just supposed to be casual, relaxed, have fun with it, but Daniel was rather... Stiff... And not in the good way. So after about 10 minutes of work the man behind the camera sighed heavily signaling a short break.

„Hey... What is it? "

You asked Daniel, your voice soft, one of your arms resting on his shoulder while your hand played with the hair on the back of his head. He didn’t reply, looking around the room nervously and breathing heavily. His hand ‘unintentionally’ brushed against yours, making you grab it and interwine your fingers. You smirked devilishly and leaned closer, your lips almost touching his earlobe.

„Oh honey~ There’s no need to be so nervous. What do you say for this... I'll give you a little heads up, so you would relax and later you'll get an award if you do a great job, okay?’’

‘’Wha- What do you mean?”

“oh come on! You know what I mean~ I can feel you getting excited with my every touch”

You pulled closer, your bodies pressed against each other, lips almost touching. A blush spread across Daniel’s face, making you smile from ear to ear. His eyes avoided yours, he felt unprofesional, ashamed of his state, but you didn’t mind.

‘’Meet me in the bathroom”

You whispered and placed a soft kiss on his lips, before leaving. The man took a deep breath then followed in your tracks almost immediately. He didn’t even managed to knock on the bathroom door when you pulled him inside by his clothes and pressed against the door. You locked it then slowly dropped down to your knees.

„You have to be quiet... "

You whispered then started your sinful ministrations, without any objection from Daniel, to your surprise. With one swift motion you undid his pants and pulled them down, revealing a big bulge strained by his boxers. You bit your lip, looking up at the flustered man. His eyes were dark with lust, but his body didn’t show it, it was rather shy. You took a deep breath and freed his member. He was big, both in lenght and breadth, and you liked it... You liked a little challenge.

You licked it slowly from the perfectly trimmed bush up to the tip, then without any hesitation took him in entirely. The gagging motion signaling that it’s a bit too much made you pull away a little. You started to bob your head ahead and back, occasionally stopping to rub your thumb against his tip. You could see, and partially hear, that Daniel enjoyed it as he tried his best to quiet down his moans and grunts. You tried to be as fast as you could, as you didn’t have a lot of time, but also tried to tease the man, which you would usually do. You sucked him fast, almost bringing him to the edge to then pull away, smiling brightly and softly massaging his balls, then again and again.

Soon Daniel couldn’t take it anymore and started to quietly beg for the release. It made your panties even wetter than they already were. His pleas and cries filled the room and stroked your ego. You were so proud of yourself for being able to make one of the most handsome man in the world so vulnerable and crave for your touch. Soon you decided you tortured him enough. You went as fast as you could, massaging his balls roughly.

‘’Liebchen... I-I'm close...’’

Daniel breathed out before a loud moan escaped his lips and his warm seed filled your throat. You pulled away and showed him the mess he made in your mouth, before gulping down everything. You stood up, pulling his boxers and pants up.

‘’You did such an amazing job...’’

You praised with a warm smile, cleaned yourself up and left the bathroom after placing a soft kiss to the man’s cheek. You were really satisfied with your job as later, almost every photo came out perfectly.

After the photoshoot was done, you took Daniel out for dinner and late at night, he made you his lady Brühl, just as he promised.

[theartofimagining13]

Imagine:

You’re Mads’ +1 at an important fashion show, and at some point, he loses you in the crowd for a while. When you finally find each other, you’re wearing Daniel’s jacket.

{ Submitted by: @clockgirl94​ } 

[norabrice1701]

Consequence

 A Ghost!Horstmayer x Fem!Reader AU

Summary: “Seriously?” You say, sighing in vague annoyance. “A ghost?” You don’t consider yourself to be a superstitious person, and you certainly don’t believe in haunted things lurking around dark corners.

Of course, it doesn’t make sense. Of course, ghosts aren’t real. You just need your overactive imagination to calm down.

But then comes the night that changes everything...

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: Explicit 18+ NSFW smut; explicit language; references to 1918 pandemic and lost love; Horstmayer needs a hug

A/N: Last year, it started with a pirate!Horstmayer fic and now we have ghost!Horstmayer on this Christmas Eve. Curl up somewhere warm with something warm & cozy, and I hope you enjoy! And to those who celebrate the holiday - I wish you all a Happy & Merry Christmas 🎄😊❤️

You inherit the apartment from your Great-Aunt Alphonsine. Heartless as it sounds, you didn't even know that you had a Great-Aunt Alphonsine until the lawyer calls you. 

“The care and maintenance of the apartment is part of your Great-Aunt’s estate. Should you choose to retain the dwelling, you will only be financially responsible for the consumables.” 

“The consumables?” You echo in confusion. “What does that mean? Consumables as in… water and electricity?” 

“No, miss. Consumables as in food, paper products, toiletries, and so forth. Your Great-Aunt’s estate has allocations for utilities, cleaning services, repair services, tax fees, and insurance costs. She was adamant that you shoulder no additional financial burden with the inheritance of her beloved home.” 

On and off over the years, your mother has spoken of the estranged family that lives in France, but surely, this has to be too much. You’d never met Great-Aunt Alphonsine, and doesn’t she have any immediate family of her own? Or is this her way of trying to reunite the family? 

Regardless, you still can’t believe it. Even now as you stand - still dumbfounded by the simple fact that you’re actually here in Paris - staring at the building’s elegant stone and wrought-iron facade, you want to pinch yourself. 

Nearly overnight, you’ve gone from a cramped, nearly-windowless apartment to this sweeping, third-story, top-floor apartment with commanding views of the Luxembourg Gardens. Nearly overnight, you no longer have to choose between paying rent or paying down student loans. Nearly overnight, you find yourself faced with the decision of what to do with such a classy place, but you figure that you should at least see the interior before deciding. 

And the interior doesn’t disappoint. Cozily appointed and elegantly furnished, the whole apartment proves an expert study in Edwardian class and comfort. Each room hosts gleaming wood fireplaces, lush rugs, and plushy armchairs and settees. The living room with a piano in one corner and a simple writing desk tucked in another corner looks like the perfect place to continue work on your novel. The dining room is warm and intimate, and blessedly, the kitchen has been updated with modern appliances. 

The hallway hosts three inviting bedrooms and one sophisticated bathroom. Each progressive room makes you feel sloppy in your jeans and sweater, yet also puts you completely at ease. The old-world charm and elegance of the whole place should probably be intimidating, but there is something undeniably homey and inviting about it.  

You make your decision and settle in right away. The living room becomes your favorite haunt and think-tank, while the master bedroom serves as your private lair. You’ve never known such stylish comfort or pleasant environs. In fact, it’s a marvel that your Great-Aunt has managed to outfit her home in a way that doesn’t feel old and stuffy but still retains the splendor of a bygone age. 

As time passes, you meet the cleaning lady by name of Marie-Rose who tiptoes around on silent footsteps, and the all-around handyman, Georges, who is never without a jovial smile beneath his bushy mustache. 

“This is an easy fix, mademoiselle.” Georges says, extending the ladder legs. “I’m glad that you called.”  

“I appreciate that you came so quickly, but really, there was no rush.” And you mean it. Replacing a burned out lightbulb in the living room chandelier isn’t an urgent matter, but Georges wouldn’t hear of it. 

“Well, Mademoiselle Alphonsine was just the kindest lady, and I wouldn’t want to do her an insult by way of you, now.” 

Your mouth pulls to an awkward, closed-mouth smile. “I wish that I had known her better.” Or at all, really. 

Georges unboxes the new lightbulb, nodding up at you with a reassuring smile. “I’ll have this replaced in no time. Don’t you worry, mademoiselle.” Despite your insistence otherwise, he refuses to call you anything else. “But keep an eye out for that ghost, would you please?” 

He starts to climb the ladder, and you arch a dubious brow. “Seriously?” You say, sighing in vague annoyance. “A ghost?” You don’t consider yourself to be a superstitious person, and you certainly don’t believe in haunted things lurking around dark corners. 

“Oh, you can be sure of it. Mademoiselle Alphonsine had many stories about her resident ghost - even said that she glimpsed him in the foyer mirror once. Eyes like golden chocolate, she said.” 

“Golden chocolate?” You hum skeptically. “And I’m sure that every time this old building creaked, that was the ghost, too?” 

Georges nods as he works. “Mademoiselle Alphonsine swore that he was always here - as a chill when she entered a room, as a phantom whisper against her cheek, as a fallen and broken object.” 

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” You scoff, shaking your head. “I mean, it makes sense why a single, elderly lady living alone would conjure tales about a ghost when things went bump in the night. It’s the most basic trope in all of horror-dom! And once she believed it, I’m sure it just became easier each time something ‘supposedly-mysterious but easily-explainable’ happened for her to just chalk it up to her resident ghost.” 

Georges laughs softly but nothing about it is comforting. “Then, don’t believe in the ghost at your own peril, mademoiselle. But far be it for me to speak ill of the dead - either Mademoiselle Alphonsine or her resident ghost.” 

Of all the ridiculous nonsense. There are no such things as ghosts, regardless of what your Great-Aunt or her handyman think. 

And yet… you can’t fully banish the lingering thought. Especially in the dark hours of night when the city grows still, when the building grows silent, when shadows dance on the walls. You start to notice the ambient creaks and groans of the centuries’ old building. You start to notice the reflections in polished surfaces, unable to stop the creeping moments of suspicion and the urge to do a double-take over your shoulder. 

Eyes like golden chocolate, indeed. 

Of course, it doesn’t make sense. Of course, ghosts aren’t fucking real. You just need your overactive imagination to calm down. 

But then comes the night that changes everything. 

The day has been absolute hell in a handbasket, and you need to lose yourself. So, you do: retiring to your bed with a half-full bottle of wine and your favorite vibrator. It has been a while since your last boyfriend, and you treat yourself far better than he ever did. Still trembling from your first orgasm, you writhe against the bedsheets, slowly teasing towards your second. Your slick, sensitized skin sings as you drive the toy harder, chasing the pleasurable swell inside you. The wood and plaster walls echo with your soft cries and whimpers - and in the moments your eyes wink open, you see yourself in the mirror mounted above the bedroom fireplace. 

The debauched sight that you paint should probably be shameful, but you’re too far gone to care. Your hair fans across the pillowcase, sleep shorts and underwear discarded with your sleep shirt rucked up. With one hand twisting and pinching against your breast, the other works the toy inside you. The desperate heat builds to a crescendo as you drag against your white hot spot of pleasure, tearing a long cry from your lips as you start to boil over. 

Glass cracks and shatters across the room, slicing through your fog of arousal. You scream at the sudden burst of sound, and the toy slips from your grip. Your body fights a new surge of adrenaline-fueled energy as you stare at the fractured mirror over the bedroom fireplace. Cracked lines radiate across the reflective surface originating from a point in the middle. Several glass shards have broken loose, now smashed against the polished wood floor. 

Your heart races as you sit up to get a better look, overcome with the impending rush of your denied orgasm and the fear that bolted down your spine at the sight. Especially as you stare at the distorted reflection in the mirror’s broken remains. It looks… you gulp. Another shiver runs through you as you squint harder in the low light. The shape coalesces into a distinct, shadowed outline of a head and shoulder - and eyes. 

Eyes that glint with golden chocolate. 

You blink, and the image disappears. Or… has it even been there in the first place?

The thought keeps you awake longer than you care to admit. And ever since, you haven't been able to shake the unnerving feeling that you’re being watched. 

Sure, it sounds cliche. Fuck that, it’s definitely cliche. You’re starting to be no better than your Great-Aunt, really: living alone in an old house with an antique mirror that had finally just cracked from age. You don’t need to let the power of suggestion get to you. Of course, there hasn’t been a ghost with golden chocolate eyes watching you in your bedroom. The implications of that are just too fucked up. 

But none of that stops a shiver from crawling down your spine when living room floorboards squeak while you sit unmoving on the couch. It doesn’t stop you from giving the foyer mirror a suspicious side-eye every time you walk past or glimpse shadowy movement on its reflective surface. 

All of it stirs traitorous, lingering questions to life. Has Great-Aunt Alphonsine been right? Does her home indeed have a resident specter of some sort? Could there really be such a thing as ghosts? 

The nagging questions torment you for the better part of two weeks, not helped each night when you crawl into bed and stare at the bare patch of wall above the fireplace where the mirror used to hang. But finally, emboldened by another bottle of wine, you open an incognito browser window and let your search history spiral down a rabbit hole. 

Are ghosts real 

Why do ghosts haunt

Can you banish ghosts

Can you contact ghosts

Madame Lastra incantation 

Dr. Vladimir Zugravs’s Collection of Spells and Other Curios book

The next day finds you at the National Library of France. Of course, the section you seek resides in a quiet, dusty corner of the archives that surely crawls with ghosts of its own. Fluorescent light bulbs buzz overhead as you scan the spine titles and catalog numbers. Eventually, you find Dr. Zugrav’s book and pull it from the shelf as your heart leaps. Thumbing through the pages, you glimpse all sorts of sketches - diagrams of plants, people, symbols - and page after page of obscure, occultist lore. 

When you find the page entitled ‘Madame Lastra’s Incantation for Contact Beyond the Living World’, a forbidden thrill runs through you. Fuck, you can’t believe this actually exists, and worse… would it actually work? 

Back in the warmth of your living room, you pour over the pages with rapt interest. It… honestly, it sounds so easy. Does it really only take sandalwood scented air and a red beeswax barrier coupled with the right words to contact the dead? You read the pages again and again, looking for the obvious catch. If it is supposedly just that simple, then why doesn’t everyone know about this? 

But once you have the sandalwood incense and red beeswax candle, you wait until Saturday night. The fact that it’s Christmas Eve just happens to be a coincidence. You already told your parents that you aren’t able to come home for Christmas, and if you really have the chance to make a new friend, then… well, who wants to be alone on Christmas Eve? 

So, you sit in the foyer and light the incense. As the woodsy smell permeates the air, you light the candle and let it burn for several minutes to form a blood-red puddle of molten wax. With careful movements, you dribble the wax in a line just behind the front door, spanning wall to wall as the book instructured. Admittedly, you do cringe at the sight of the vibrant red wax cooling against the finely polished wood floor - and god, maybe you should go to a therapist after this - but for now, you’re too committed to stop. 

When the line looks thick enough - honestly, the book wasn’t too specific - you set the candle next to the incense and sit cross-legged, staring at the front door and the fresh line of wax. You turn the page and your breathing quickens. Adrenaline surges through you, taking a deep breath to listen to the gentle piano Christmas carols that play in the background as a low fire burns in the living room fireplace accompanied by the soft glow of a table lamp. 

In a clear, purposeful voice - the book is incessant on that part - you recite the words. It sounds even stupider and laughingly implausible as your voice echoes off the woodwork, as if waiting for the punchline of some elaborate joke. But then… the fire flares in the living room from the corner of your eye and a wave of intense heat rolls over you. Lightning strikes outside the windows and roaring thunder threatens to burst your eardrums. Strobing lightning continues to blind you as shapes and shadows melt and shift around you. With wide eyes, you glance around as fear otherwise paralyzes you. 

God, shit, fuck… what have you done? 

Thunder shakes the building incessantly, but your blood freezes as audible, distinct footsteps creak down the hallway. Your heart sticks in your throat as blood pounds in your ears, turning around to see… an unknown man emerge from the shadows. 

His thick chestnut hair and beard hold a neat style as he frowns down at you. He wears dark, high-waisted trousers of an antiquated fashion with a white dress shirt, matching vest, and tie neatly knotted at his throat. Firelight and lightning gleam off a wristwatch set against a thick leather band wrapped around his right wrist. He looks for all the world like he just stepped out of a late Edwarian-era photograph, and a chill runs through you. 

He rests his hands in his trousers’ pockets as he comes to a stop at the living room threshold, his face hard with disapproval. “I understand that modern sensibilities have changed,” he says with crisp, Germanic syllables. “But have you completely dispensed with all sense of general propriety?” 

You stare back at him, agape and lost for words. Too many questions overload your brain as you meet his sharp, golden chocolate eyes. Eyes that are all too familiar from a hazy moment in your bedroom’s shattered mirror. 

He blinks those otherworldly eyes as irritation tightens the corners of his mouth, and he nods vaguely over your shoulder. “Referring, of course, to the mess that you have made on his floor. Terribly inconsiderate of you as a guest, considering how that red dye will no doubt leave a permanent stain.” 

Your eyebrows climb to your hairline. “A guest…? But I live here.” 

He shakes his head in slow reproach. “This is not your home anymore than it is your Great-Aunt’s or mine - we are all houseguests here.” He advances slowly, coming more into the flickering firelight and your pulse quickens as he continues. “But, perhaps you are not as worthy as she was - first, for damaging his floor, and second, in this unwelcome -.” His words stop short as his face pinches in open confusion and disbelief. 

You freeze in equal uncertainty, watching his keen gaze fix on the roaring fire. Lightning still flashes all around - or, perhaps strobe is a more accurate word - especially as you realize that thunder no longer accompanies each bright bolt of light. Without another word, he strides forward with his attention clearly diverted from you. 

With trembling movements, you push to your feet as you continue to stare at him. Just who in the hell is this man? He can’t just come into your house uninvited… or was he invited? You stand just inside the living room, staring at the broad line of his back as he pauses in front of the fireplace. He holds his left hand in front of the flames as if warming chilled skin, but the look of astonishment on his face makes your brow furrow. 

Chilling realization creeps through you as he continues to stare at his hand in a mix of disbelief and reverence. You wet your top lip, exhaling sharply. “You’re Great-Aunt Alphonsine’s resident ghost, aren’t you?” 

“I prefer that you call me Karl Horstmayer.” 

You gasp as realization slams through you, and holy shit… the incantation has worked. The truth before your eyes stuns you as lightning flares at random, disorienting intervals. You blink away from him in your stupor, still trying to process it all, and your mindless gaze sweeps around the room. At least, until you notice that the familiar table lamp has just… disappeared. In fact, the fireplace and lightning are the only light sources around you. 

Your mind reels at the implications, and you turn towards the windows that overlook the gardens across the street. It’s impossible to make out anything of the city beyond - no streetlights, no rustling trees - as if everything outside has been swallowed up by the soundless lightning storm. 

Everything about that thought sends your mind into overdrive as your heart races. “Does…  does that mean that I’m… dead?” 

He shrugs a disinterested shoulder, still studying his hand. “What is dead?” 

“Dead is how y-you’re a ghost.” Your words shake with mounting uncertainty. “And how I’m… I’m - where are we, anyway?” 

“Why do you assume that I have all the answers?” His words cut sharp. “Aren’t you the one with the occultist book?” 

“The book doesn’t say anything about this!” Honestly, if the incantation is going to transport you to some freakish vortex between life and death, the book should at least fucking mention it. 

If your outburst bothers Karl, he gives no visible indication. Instead, he simply lowers his hand back to his side as the corner of his mouth lifts with a sad, fond edge. “All I know is that I have not felt such warmth in well over a century.” 

Despite your unease, your brow knits as you process his words. “No? Not even when… well, assuming that you’ve walked this apartment as you are now,” you gesture at him, suddenly feeling woefully out of your depth. “Does that mean that you don’t feel physical sensation…?” 

“Not as such.” He answers softly. “But the eternal now has no physical concept, so your question is invalid.” 

“That makes no sense.” You shake your head, returning your gaze to him as you wait for him to respond. 

But neither of you speak for several long minutes. Brilliant purple-white light continues to burst out the windows, punctuated only by crackles from the fireplace and the eerie melody of distorted Christmas carols. You strain your ears to listen, just able to recognize ‘Silent Night’ despite how melancholy and dissonant the tune sounds. 

You force a swallow, continuing the conversation in his stead. “I mean - clearly, this is a physical place. I’m standing here, a-and you’re standing there. And there’s a fire, and music… and you called it his place.” You pause, blinking over at him as he stands unmoving, still just staring into the fire. “So, if I’m a guest and you’re a guest… then, whose place is this?” 

Heart-wrenching sadness eats at the lines of his handsome face despite his failing attempts to hold a stoic appearance. It ages him so young - younger than you’d initially estimated due to his deceptive facial hair. What has happened to this young man? By all accounts, he looks healthy - as if he could still be alive today. 

The muscles of his throat work around a hard swallow. “This is the home of the Audebert family. Camille Audebert, in particular.” He pinches his mouth shut as if needing a moment to collect himself. 

Concern stirs in your chest as you wrap your arms around yourself and step into the living room. “And who was... is Camille Audebert?” 

Karl’s eyes swim with firelight and distant memory. “Someone who I met on a Christmas Eve long ago. Someone who… who I had hoped to find again. But someone who died in this house before I could get here.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You take another careful step forward. “How did he die?” 

“The flu of 1918 swept through Paris, sparing neither the rich or the poor, and he succumbed much like countless other victims.” 

A chill runs down your spine as your heart lodges in your throat. “The flu of 1918… that sounds unreal….” Your voice trails off as the unnerving lightning reflects off your skin and clothes. “Is that also when you… died, too?” 

“No.” He offers a weak shake of his head. “I followed… in 1919, I think it was. You’ll forgive me on the exact year…” 

You ach an incredulous brow, unable to believe it. “And you’ve been here - in this place… this apartment since 1919, give or take.” 

His heavy eyes drop closed as he bows his head solemnly. 

Your tongue runs across your top lip. “Then, why don’t you just leave?”

“That’s not how it works.” His voice chills you to the bone. “Actions on the mortal plane ripple through eternity, and a deal with the devil is just that.” 

“But you’re…,” you start as you struggle to understand. “Surely, you’re not… like a demon or something.”

“No,” he gives a short shake of his head. “But one needn’t be a demon to find themselves in hell.” 

You regard him in a moment of contemplation. Is he really trapped here? What deal has he possibly made? You exhale an uncertain sigh, hesitating until you catch yourself. For fuck’s sake, this man is a ghost – what do you really have to worry about? “So, what -” your words stick in your throat despite yourself. “How long do you have to stay here?” 

He turns an almost pitying, closed-mouth smile towards you. “Time is a mortal construct. It doesn’t exist in the eternal now. As such, I shall simply reside as I am until… until the stars turn cold, I suppose.” 

Your heart goes out to him as your gaze softens. “That sounds incredibly lonely. With no one for company.” 

“Yet, you’ve proven that it’s possible.” His brow furrows as if he just realized something that hasn’t occurred to him before. He turns towards you with his haunting, perceptive gaze. “Tell me, why did you seek this meeting tonight?” 

The intensity of his firelit gaze leaves you fumbling for words. Why exactly have you contacted him? Is it merely to satisfy your own curiosity? Is it just to vindicate your Great-Aunt? 

“And tonight, of all nights,” he continues, not unkindly as he gestures vaguely with his left hand. “I am not unfamiliar with the carols in the air, though again… to hear them so vividly now is….” He trails off with a shake of his head. 

“Vividly?” You arch a dubious brow. “It sounds like they’re playing underwater on an untuned piano.” 

“And yet all I hear is clear, harmonized perfection.” He drops his eyes closed in clear indulgence of a treat that he’s been so long denied. 

A shiver races down your spine at the thought and you can’t help but wonder. Each time that you play music in the house and enjoy tonal melodies, does he hear the sort of tuneless, distorted musical notes that you hear now? Is your presence in whatever this place is somehow letting him experience the world of the living from beyond the grave? The implications of that only make your mind spin and a distant ache blooms in your skull. You take a deep breath, massaging your temples and feeling woefully out of your depth. 

Nothing about this makes any sense – but honestly, what did you expect by using some incantation to contact a dead ghost? And now… just where the fuck do you go from here? How long are you going to stay here? How long does the incantation last? And, really, just what do you have waiting for you back on the other side tonight? 

Your gaze falls to the blazing fire for another long minute. If Karl Horstmayer is indeed dead, then why shouldn’t you just be honest? You nibble your bottom lip before speaking. “I guess it’s just…” you trail off, sighing as anxious butterflies erupt in your stomach. “It’s Christmas Eve, and I just… I didn’t want to be alone.” 

He shifts almost uneasily on his feet. At first glance in the swirls of blinding light, perhaps a blush dances high on his cheeks above his beard, but you can’t tell for sure. It does nothing to detract from his handsomeness, and an appreciative smile edges your face. 

He catches your gaze, his own pensive and analytical as he regards you. “And straddling the veil between worlds is the best way to remedy that?”

Your mouth pinches with irritation. “I… well, yes – I mean, you’ve been watching me and because I… I saw you.” You don’t want to delve into the details since - fuck, this man has seen everything that happened in your bedroom. “I saw your brown eyes - eyes of golden chocolate - just like my Great-Aunt had said.”

His eyes darken with obvious memory as the shared knowledge of the night that your bedroom mirror shattered hangs between you. Heat flares along your skin despite the fire’s warmth, gathering low in your belly under his intense scrutiny. From his words so far, the extent of his physical sensation may still be a mystery, but clearly, he isn’t emotionally unaffected by the events that took place in this house. 

You wet your top lip as your breathing quickens. “You say that the eternal now has no physical concept, yet you were able to break the mirror that night. For that was you… watching me….” 

A startlingly ashamed look crosses his face as he drops your gaze. “As only the dead can. Not one of my finer moments, I regret to say.” 

His dizzying verbal circles make your head spin, but they’re far from off-putting. “But you only feel guilty now that I’ve confronted you about it, right? Never thought you’d get caught, right? And why would you if I’m your first-ever visitor...” And, shit, the implications for the future crash down around you. As long as you stay in this house, he will be here watching you – each time you shower, eat dinner, sleep, pleasure yourself or share your bed with anyone else. Honestly, the thought should probably repulse or terrify you, but there’s something oddly… comforting about it. In the knowledge that you’ll never truly be alone. 

But what about Karl? Is he forever condemned to just watch humanity pass him by from within the confines of this apartment? “So, what does that mean, then?" You ask softly. "‘As only the dead can’…?”

“Precisely that. A spectral existence has no physical concept in the eternal now.” 

“That’s such bullshit.” You shake your head pleadingly, stepping around the couch towards him before you think better of it. “As we’ve both agreed – we’re both standing here. And you’ve felt the fire’s warmth on your skin, heard clear music – so, don’t tell me there isn’t anything physical in this moment.” You reach your hand out to his white shirt sleeve covered arm to prove your point.  

Your fingers connect with the fine fabric and solid forearm beneath, gasping as sapphire sparks burst into view and wink out with wispy trails of smoke. The scent of cedar and citrus fills your nose – and in that moment, you see everything. 

A life shrouded by the shadow of an older brother. A steadfast dedication to military service befitting a dutiful second son. A horrific world war that shatters the globe and leaves permanent scars. A forbidden, blossoming love in a snowy trench on an unexpectedly peaceful night that tragically, abruptly ends in a global pandemic. A destructive desire driving him to reunite with his beloved. 

And in that moment, when his eyes meet yours, his face blanches with the discovery of profound knowledge. As if he, too, sees everything in your life that led you to this moment as you stand with your hand on his arm somewhere between life and death. 

The breath punches from your chest as the images run through your mind and emotions boil within you. Your heart constricts yet threatens to burst, your stomach tightens with anxious knots yet lightens with hopeful anticipation. Your eyes see only him, blind to the rest of the world as you want to cling to him, to lose yourself in him, to have him lose himself inside you. 

Blood pulses through you, pooling low and needy as damp heat soaks your core. All at once, you realize how hard you’re breathing, stunned and reeling. 

You force a swallow as dizziness consumes you. “I don’t… I don’t know what’s happening.” 

He gives a slow, bewildered shake of his head, obviously just as speechless as he gasps for breath alongside you. With your mind awash in a sea of unfamiliar memories and new sensations, your hand trails up his forearm, almost disappointed that more sparks don’t appear. You raise your other hand to his chest, both exhaling long moans when you press your palm flat over the woolen waistcoat. A shower of deep blue sparks rain down around your hand as more of that intoxicating scent suffuses the air. 

You struggle for breath as a fresh wave of heat surges through you, touching the essence of your being. It extends beyond physical or emotional, as if… as if his spirit touches yours, speaking in a language that you don’t understand yet comprehend implicitly. And god, just listen to yourself, but your brain - and body - are truly too far gone to care. His warm, heavy hand falls against the small of your back, and you arch against the touch with a soft cry on your lips. 

Electricity jolts through you, driving you closer in his embrace, overwhelmed at the onslaught of sensation erupting from his touch. Everything about the moment compels you closer to him, each touch igniting more sparks and reaching some deep-rooted part of your soul that belongs only to him. 

Your lips fuse together in an intoxicating haze as that delicious scent wraps around you and sapphire light gleams beyond your closed eyelids. He can’t be close enough to you as tongues tangle and you cling to the solid, sturdy build of shoulders. His broad hands find your hips, pulling you flush against him - body to body, soul to soul. 

He needs to be closer - so much closer - and your hands tear at his tie, his vest, his shirt buttons. The heat of the fire is a distant memory compared to the scorching touch of his skin as your own clothing falls away with wisps of smoke and showers of sapphire starbursts. Everywhere he touches draws you helplessly towards him as he dissolves into you and pulls you down to the plush, thick rug in front of the fire. 

Your legs wrap around his waist with mindless instinct, driven only to connect with him in the most intimate way as your soul demands. Breath leaves you and sanity abandons you as he slides deep into your core, piercing your heart and soul as he buries himself in your heat. His groans drown against your lips as smoke and sparks shroud the frenzied rocking of his hips and he drives himself to fill you completely. 

Unrecognizable cries leave your lips, echoing in the void as you take everything he gives you and surrender yourself completely. The crescendo builds with unstoppable intensity as you claw at his back, tasting the salt on his neck and relishing the burn of his beard on your skin. A moan tears from you as you convulse around him, and a heavy force claws at the very essence of your being, shearing something inside you as euphoric ecstasy pulls you under. 

The deafening roar of his own release mixes with your deafening cry as blood pounds in your ears. Your vision swims in hazy light as your body drifts away from you, and you struggle to breathe under the gnawing sensation. His solid weight against you fades as darkness eats at the corners of your mind, and you feebly cling to him with all that you possess. 

His lips ghost against yours as your hands fall slack and thought abandons you completely. 

You blink awake, foggy headed and bleary eyed. Desperate to ignore the throbbing pain in your skull, you squint against the bright, invasive morning sunlight – Christmas morning sunlight – and don’t know what to think. Especially as you become aware of three things in quick succession.

One – the thick living room rug scratches and itches against your bare skin. A dark blue blanket covers you, surprisingly soft by contrast to the rug but completely unfamiliar to you. You grip it close, aware that it’s the only thing shielding your naked body from the clear windows. 

Two – you feel absolutely drained. As if you haven’t slept or eaten in days, or maybe both. Your minimal movements against the rug are sluggish and uncoordinated as you continue to wake up and come back to yourself. Quite obviously, whatever you experienced last night has taken a heavy toll. 

Three – you aren’t alone. A larger, broader, obviously nude and obviously male body presses against your backside as you lay against the uncomfortable carpet. You scrub a hand over your face, trying to wipe away the cobwebs and not disturb your slumbering bedmate. 

Good god, what had actually happened last night? With fleeting clarity, you remember the lightning-drenched living room, the uncanny golden chocolate eyes, and the scorching pleasure – but now faced with the cold light of dawn, has any of that actually been real? Or did you really just knock back one too many cocktails, pick up a guy, and lose yourself in delusional fantasy?

You groan, stretching against the carpet and catching a glimpse at your smartwatch. Fuck, it’s already so late. With another groan, dreading the inevitable awkwardness of saying goodbye to a one-nightstand that you don’t even clearly remember, you roll over and prepare to face your fate. 

You jump in surprise against the blanket, shocked to see two golden chocolate eyes blinking blearily back at you. Your heart pounds as you stare at Karl’s familiar features and bearded face as he lays beside you with dark swirls of his chest hair just visible above the blanket’s edge. 

You gape, unable to believe it. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Here?” He groans, looking back at you in equally growing confusion. “What is… why are you here?”

“Why am I here?” You parrot back, gripping the blanket close, hyper-aware of both your naked bodies beneath the navy fabric. “This is my house, and you’re the dead ghost, and…” Your words trail off as your mouth fails to keep up with your raging thoughts. Does this mean that you have died, too? Are you now condemned to stay in this house with him for eternity? 

A car horn blares outside the window, drawing your startled gaze. How does that make any sense? If you are dead, then why are you able to hear a car plain as day? You force a hard swallow as you try to think through the sluggish fog in your head. Maybe you aren’t dead, after all, but instead, maybe he is… does it make sense for him to be… alive? 

But, seriously… have you somehow fucked him back to life? However crass and ridiculous that sounds. Is that why those strange, sapphire sparks had ignited between you? Has your life force somehow rejuvenated his own...? 

Your head hurts too much for such mind-bending thoughts. Slowly, you turn back to him, catching his gaze as he studies you with equal bewilderment. His mouth pinches to a tight, hesitant line as he obviously considers a thought. 

Tentatively, he reaches a hand forward, brushing the back of his knuckles along your forearm. No blue sparks or blue glow emanate from his gentle caress, but a low, thrumming rhythm grows in your blood. You gasp as the beating pulse aligns with the cadence of your own heartbeat, reverberating in tandem harmony. “Is that…,” you ask in a breathless whisper, “your heartbeat?” 

His own breathing stutters as the contact lingers, and he twists his wrist to wrap his fingers around your forearm. “It’s your heartbeat, it has to be…” he whispers reverentially. “Mine stopped beating so long ago….” 

“Then, why are you here?” Heat sings in your veins as your body recognizes its missing half - the answer to make you whole, body and soul. 

He pulls his hand back, and the cloying sensations instantly dull. You’re still drained beyond comprehension and in serious need of sustenance, but whatever his touch has just ignited begins to fade without the sustained physical contact. 

Just what the fuck have you done? Are you somehow forever bound to him? And him to you? How would you ever know? And is that what you really want? What about the rest of your life? What about the rest of his life? At least, now that he seems to have one again…. 

He shakes his head, sighing heavily. “We may never know the answer. But before we start trying to figure it out,” his face softens as the corner of his mouth lifts. “I guess there’s only one thing to be said.” 

“Oh? And what’s that?” 

He fixes his golden chocolate eyes to yours, and… okay, maybe seeing those eyes every morning wouldn’t be so bad. A smile tugs at your mouth as you stare at him, hearing his accented words wrap around you and echo with the fading thrum of his twin heartbeat. “It’s not my holiday… but Merry Christmas, Liebling.”

[mlmxreader]

The Stars Shine For You | Ernst Schmidt x m!reader

anonymous asked: Could I request a very fluffy and cute Ernst Schmidt being with his boyfriend in a au where the Shepard is successful and everyone is returned home. Maybe a cute reunion where they are all emotional and reassure each other that they are still in love.

summary: you and Ernst have been apart for so long, worried about one another and what to expect when he comes back, but it seems that maybe not much is different.

tws: non-sexual nudity

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

After so much time being apart, wondering if he would ever actually come home, you watched on the news as they announced that, at last, the mission had been successful; Earth was saved, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach as you covered your mouth with one hand and sobbed quietly. Sliding onto your knees as you hit the carpet; he was coming home. Ernst was finally returning.

You broke completely. Relief, joy, pride. It hit you all at once, so hard that you ended up falling asleep on the floor after you were finished crying; so drained that you didn't even wake up when the door opened several hours later.

Schmidt folded his arms across his chest as he looked down at you, a fond smile on his face as he shed a few tears; he chucked his keys on the coffee table, grabbed the fluffy silver coloured blanket from the back of the sofa, and draped it over your shoulders.

He knelt down, kissed your temple, and put a cushion under your head; he would let you sleep for a while, it was the least that he could do. The news was behind a few hours, only just announcing that he and the rest of the crew were actually coming home.

While you slept, Schmidt grabbed a cup of coffee, unpacked everything and put it where it once lived, and showered; he was only just coming out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, when you woke.

"Hallo, mein Herz," he breathed out.

You stood there, staring at him for a while, before you swallowed thickly and barrelled into him; your arms were tight around his body as you kept him so close, crying quietly as you squeezed your eyes tightly shut and whimpered so softly. Schmidt let the initial shock wash over him before he returned the embrace; now that he had you in his arms, he was finally and truly home.

"Oh, mein geliebter," he murmured. "I missed you so much."

You didn't say anything, holding onto him with all the strength you had as you melted against him; it had been so long, so many days drenched in agony and worry that maybe he would never come back. Maybe the Shepherd would be unsuccessful and everything would go wrong, and now...

Now he was home.

"Ernst..."

"Ja, Ich bin hier," he said so sweetly. "I missed you... I love you."

You sniffled, pulling away and putting your hands on his face, studying his features; he hadn't changed much, except his stubble was a bit long, more scruff than anything else, but his big brown eyes were still the same. His hair was a bit longer than when he had left, and there was a faded bruise on his cheek, but he was still the same as when he had left.

"You need a haircut."

Schmidt grinned as he nodded, putting his hands on yours as he leaned into the touch. "Yeah, I do... you know, I thought maybe you would have moved on."

"Never," you breathed out, shaking your head. "Ernst, du bist meine Welt... I could never."

He brought your hand to his mouth, gently kissing your palm as he grumbled ever so quietly. "Du bist mein Stern. Mein geliebter. Mein Herz."

"Immer," you whispered, daring to steal a quick and gentle kiss.

You pulled him over to the bed, pulling back the duvet and getting in, waiting for him to drop the towel and finally join you; you snuggled into his side, pulling the blanket up to his chest as you slung one arm over his chest, your leg across his waist as he held on tightly to you. He was home.

He was home at last. Snuggled up with the man he loved more than anything in the world; all the video calls he had had with you never made up for the real thing. For hearing his voice again, for feeling his arms around you, the gentle caress of his scuff against your skin. Nothing could compare at all.

He tugged you closer, coaxing you to remove your shirt just so that he could feel your skin on his a bit more, tossing the offensive fabric aside and pulling you onto him; your hips on his as you rested your forearms on the pillow either side of his head, kissing him so softly.

You moved your arm so that you could tug at his hair, melting into how he kept his hands on your sides and eagerly dug his fingers into the flesh; the blanket over your back as you allowed him to take control and deepen the kiss. His tongue slipped between your lips, and you felt like you were going to cry.

It had been far too long since you had been able to kiss him again, you were starting to feel overwhelmed, and when he felt the first droplets on his skin, he gently pushed you away.

"Mein Stern... what's wrong?" He brought a hand up to wipe your tears away. "Talk to me."

"I just..." you sniffled, swallowing thickly. "I missed you so fucking much... kissing you again, it... it's all too much for me."

"I get it," Schmidt agreed softly. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Nein," you breathed out. "Bitte. Don't."

He grabbed the back of your neck, pushed you onto your back, and straddled your waist as he placed his arms either side of your head. "Is this alright?"

You nodded, hooking your arms around his neck as you pulled him down, but he grinned, and he licked his lips.

"Was?"

"Everything just keeps reminding me," he whispered. "I'm home... erinnern what I used to tell you?"

"That the stars shined only for me?" You asked, and when he nodded, you laughed softly. "Or that the stars never shined in space because I wasn't with you?"

"Both," Schmidt told you. "The stars do shine for you, mein Mann, and they never shined a day I was up there... they never shined until last night, when I was finally coming home, coming to you."

You grinned, sniffling as you shook your head. "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"You're gonna make me cry, meine Welt," you told him softly. "So... shut up, and kiss me, maybe?"

"Now, that," he gently traced your bottom lip with his thumb. "I can do, mein Stern."

[darkficslover]

My man is so delusional and I'm loving it!!😭💕💕

𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖊 || dark!father antonio x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 | tenebrae (/ˈtɛnəbreɪ/, latin): darkness, obscurity; dark place; prison (or, delusional priest develops an obsession with one of the lost little lambs in his flock)

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 3.5k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 | smut (noncon), incel vibes? (which is ironic because the celibacy is very voluntary, but still) as well as yandere vibes, significant religious imagery and references, loss of virginity, blood, some misogyny (I mean, he’s a priest, so…), spanking, pain kink, creampie, very lightly implied breeding kink, 

{a/n: my gif, please don’t steal it!}

                   Antonio had always had a gift, the same one that made him such an excellent priest: he could see darkness.

He could see darkness, and he could cast it out.

Keep reading

[loki-quinn]

SQUEE!! Daniel brühl confirming my headcannon that Zemo is so into fashion... IS JUST YES

I love the interviewer for asking!!!

[andy-15-07]

The News

Summary:Y/N anxiously prepares for Helmut Zemo’s return, holding a secret—she’s pregnant. When he arrives, they share an emotional reunion, and he’s overjoyed at the news of their growing family.

Paring: Baron Helmut Zemo x reader

Words count: 2594

Daniel Brühl Masterlist | Masterlist

The soft hum of the rain tapping against the windows filled the quiet apartment, adding to the warm, cozy atmosphere Y/N had tried to create all day. She had spent hours preparing for this moment—cleaning, cooking, and nervously adjusting everything in the living room a dozen times.

The smell of dinner—a mix of Zemo's favorite dishes—lingered in the air, and soft music played in the background, trying to mask the excitement and nerves building within her. Y/N checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time, her eyes darting to the time.

He should have been home by now.

Helmut had been away on a mission for weeks, leaving her with nothing but sporadic, cryptic messages that barely hinted at when he might return. But today was different. Today, she was certain he'd be home. She had received a brief text earlier that morning, "Coming home tonight. Don't wait up."

Of course, she couldn’t just go to bed, not with the news she had been holding close to her heart, a secret she had been dying to share with him. She glanced down at the little box in her hands, flipping it open and shut nervously. Inside was a tiny pair of baby shoes—white and soft, with delicate lace around the edges. She smiled softly to herself, a rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

She had found out a few days after he had left. The initial shock had been overwhelming, but the idea of them starting a family had slowly taken root, filling her with a joy she hadn’t expected. Y/N could already imagine Helmut’s reaction, the way his eyes would light up, the way he’d pull her into his arms, overjoyed at the news.

The rain picked up, drumming harder against the window, and she glanced outside. The city was dark, a few lights flickering through the sheets of rain, but there was no sign of him yet.

Minutes felt like hours, and the worry she had tried to suppress started to creep in. What if something had gone wrong? What if he was hurt? But no, she pushed those thoughts away. Helmut was too skilled, too careful. He always made it back to her, no matter what.

She placed the baby shoes back in the box, setting it on the coffee table and rubbing her hands together nervously. The fire crackled softly in the background, casting a warm glow over the room, but it did little to soothe her nerves.

Then, finally, she heard it. The unmistakable sound of keys jingling at the door, followed by the soft click of the lock turning. Her heart leapt into her throat as the door slowly creaked open, and there he was—Helmut Zemo, soaked from the rain, his hair tousled, but very much alive and home.

“Helmut!” Y/N exclaimed, rushing to him before he could even close the door behind him. She threw her arms around him, ignoring the dampness of his clothes as she buried her face in his chest.

“Schatz…” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion, but there was a softness in his tone as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in, as if grounding himself after weeks away.

“I missed you,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. She had missed him terribly, every moment he was away felt like an eternity.

“And I missed you,” he replied, pulling back slightly to look at her. His dark eyes were tired but filled with love as he cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, meine Liebe.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection for this man she had chosen to spend her life with. But she could see the weariness in his expression, the way his shoulders sagged slightly under the weight of whatever he had gone through. She knew better than to ask about the mission, not right away. There would be time for that later.

“You’re soaked,” she said, her voice tinged with concern. “Come on, let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”

He nodded, allowing her to guide him toward their bedroom. She helped him out of his coat and boots, and then he peeled off his wet shirt, tossing it aside. His body was as strong and lean as ever, though she couldn’t help but notice a few new bruises marring his skin.

Y/N frowned, reaching out to touch one gently, but Helmut caught her hand, bringing it to his lips instead.

“It’s nothing,” he assured her, his voice low. “Just a few scratches.”

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed with worry, but he gave her a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was trying to protect her, as always, but she could see through the façade. He was tired—emotionally and physically—but he was here, and that was what mattered most.

“Come on,” she whispered, tugging him toward the bathroom. “A hot shower will help.”

Helmut didn’t argue, and soon the sound of water filled the space as steam began to rise around them. Y/N stayed by his side, helping him rinse off the grime of whatever battle he had been through. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as she ran her fingers through his wet hair, massaging his scalp gently.

They didn’t speak, the silence between them comfortable and intimate, a reminder of how connected they were, even after all these years.

Once he was clean, she handed him a towel, watching as he dried off and wrapped it around his waist. His gaze softened as he looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he pulled her into his arms once more.

“Thank you,” he murmured into her hair, his voice filled with a deep, unspoken gratitude.

Y/N smiled against his chest, her heart fluttering with love for this man who was always so strong, so capable, and yet so vulnerable in moments like these. She pulled back slightly, looking up at him.

“I made dinner,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Your favorite.”

His eyes lit up, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “You spoil me, Schatz.”

“Only because you deserve it,” she teased, leading him back into the living room where the food was waiting.

They settled on the couch, plates in hand, and for a while, they just enjoyed the meal in comfortable silence. But Y/N could feel the weight of the secret she was holding, the news she was so eager to share. She glanced at the small box on the coffee table, her heart pounding in her chest.

Helmut noticed the shift in her demeanor, his brow furrowing slightly. “Is something on your mind, Y/N?” he asked, setting his plate aside.

She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to begin. But then she took a deep breath, reaching for the box and holding it out to him.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly.

Helmut’s eyes widened in surprise as he took the box from her hands, his expression curious as he opened it. His gaze softened instantly as he saw the tiny baby shoes nestled inside, his breath catching in his throat.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he looked up at her, his eyes searching hers for confirmation.

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m pregnant, Helmut. We’re going to have a baby.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, as if trying to process the words. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—a smile so full of joy and love that it took her breath away.

“Meine Liebe…” he murmured, setting the box aside and pulling her into his arms. He held her tightly, his hands trembling slightly as he cupped the back of her head, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she clung to him, feeling his love and warmth enveloping her completely. “I was so nervous,” she admitted, her voice cracking with emotion. “I didn’t know how you’d react.”

He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands and looking into her eyes with a seriousness that made her heart skip a beat. “Y/N, there is nothing in this world that could make me happier than this news,” he said, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “You and our child…you are everything to me.”

She smiled through her tears, overwhelmed by the depth of his love. “I love you, Helmut,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

“And I love you, more than anything,” he replied, pressing his forehead against hers. “Thank you…thank you for this gift.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, holding each other close, their hearts beating in sync. The rain outside had slowed to a gentle drizzle, the soft patter against the windows a soothing backdrop to the moment they were sharing.

Finally, Helmut pulled back, a playful glint in his eyes. “I suppose I’ll have to be extra careful on my missions from now on,” he said, a hint of humor in his voice. “I have more than just you to come home to now.”

Y/N chuckled, wiping away her tears. “Yes, you do. And you’d better keep that in mind.”

He smiled, leaning in to kiss her softly, his lips lingering against hers as if savoring the moment. When he pulled back, his eyes were filled with a tenderness that made her heart swell.

“We’re going to be a family,” he repeated, his voice filled with awe as if he was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea. His hand moved gently to rest on her stomach, his thumb tracing small, tender circles over the place where their child grew.

Y/N placed her hand over his, the warmth of his touch sending a wave of comfort through her. “Yes, we are,” she whispered, her voice full of love and certainty. “Our little family.”

Helmut’s eyes shone with emotion as he stared down at her, his usually composed demeanor softened by the weight of this new reality. He had faced countless challenges, confronted the most dangerous of foes, and yet, this moment—this simple, beautiful moment—was enough to bring him to his knees.

“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of this?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “A family of my own… I never thought it would be possible after everything that’s happened. And now, here we are…”

Y/N smiled, her heart breaking and healing at the same time. She knew his past was riddled with pain and loss, and she understood how much this meant to him. “You deserve this, Helmut. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

He shook his head slightly, his expression one of disbelief. “I don’t know if I deserve it, but I’m not foolish enough to let it slip away. You and our child…you’re my future now. My purpose.”

She could see the determination in his eyes, the promise that he would do everything in his power to protect them, to give them the life they deserved. It was a vow unspoken, yet she felt it in every fiber of her being.

Helmut gently pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered again, the words heavy with gratitude. “Thank you for giving me this gift, for giving me hope.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with love for him, a love that seemed to grow stronger with each passing second. “You’ve given me so much, Helmut,” she replied softly, her fingers threading through his as they rested on her stomach. “This is our gift to each other.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the reality of their future slowly sinking in. It was a future filled with the unknown, but for the first time, they faced it together, not just as partners, but as a family.

After a while, Y/N broke the comfortable silence, her tone laced with playful curiosity. “So… have you thought of any names yet?”

Helmut chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, breaking through the seriousness of the moment. “Already? You’ve only just told me!”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and full of joy. “Well, we should get a head start, don’t you think? We need to be prepared.”

Helmut’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he considered her words. “True. But I think we should take our time. We have many months ahead of us to decide.” He paused, his gaze turning thoughtful. “But if I had to choose… something traditional, perhaps. Something with meaning.”

Y/N nodded, her mind racing with possibilities. “Something that honors your heritage, maybe? A name that connects our child to their roots.”

Helmut’s expression softened, a deep pride flashing in his eyes. “Yes,” he agreed, his voice low and serious. “Something that carries the weight of history, but also the promise of a new future.”

She could see how much this meant to him, and it warmed her heart to know that he was already thinking of their child’s legacy. “We’ll find the perfect name,” she assured him, leaning into his embrace. “One that represents everything we’ve been through, and everything we’re going to build together.”

Helmut kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering there as if sealing a promise. “We will,” he agreed. “And no matter what name we choose, our child will know they are loved. That is the most important thing.”

Y/N sighed contentedly, feeling a sense of peace settle over her. This was what she had always dreamed of—a life filled with love, a future full of hope. And now, with Helmut by her side, that dream was finally becoming a reality.

As the evening wore on, they talked about their plans for the future—the changes they would need to make, the things they would need to prepare for. They discussed where the nursery should be, what color to paint the walls, and how they would balance their new responsibilities. It was a conversation filled with excitement and a little bit of fear, but most of all, it was filled with love.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day caught up with them, and they found themselves curled up on the couch together, the warmth of the fire lulling them into a comfortable drowsiness. Helmut held her close, his arms wrapped around her protectively, his hand resting on her stomach as if to keep their child safe even in his sleep.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart swelling with love as she watched him drift off. There was a contentment in his expression that she hadn’t seen in a long time, a peace that came from knowing they were finally moving forward together.

And as she closed her eyes, her head resting against his chest, she knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—united by the love they had for each other, and for the family they were about to start.

In that moment, Y/N realized that the future was no longer something to be feared. It was something to be embraced, something to be cherished. And with Helmut by her side, she knew they would create a life filled with happiness, love, and endless possibilities.

As sleep finally claimed her, Y/N’s last thought was of the tiny heartbeat growing inside her, a new life born out of the love she shared with Helmut Zemo—a love that would carry them through anything.

The rain outside had stopped, leaving the night quiet and still. And in the warmth of their home, their hearts beat as one, full of love, hope, and the promise of tomorrow.

[uses-for-fics]

Balance | Eric Bouchard

Pt .2 to Love is Embarrassing x

The next few days on set were nothing short of surreal for YN. The date with Eric had been incredible! Simple, quiet, but filled with an intimacy she had only ever dreamed about. They’d sat at a small café, tucked away from the chaos of the city and their work, talking for hours about everything and nothing. She learned things about him she hadn’t known before, like how he loved reading mystery novels and how he often second-guessed his directorial decisions, despite his confident exterior.

Now, back in the chaotic world of 'Tecto', they were faced with a new challenge: balancing their personal feelings with the professional boundaries they had maintained for so long.

Eric was as professional as ever on set, his sharp commands cutting through the air as the crew worked to get through a particularly grueling action scene. YN was seated in her usual spot, sketchbook in hand, as she watched him orchestrate the chaos. She couldn’t help but smile to herself—he had no idea how attractive he looked when he was in his element.

As soon as their eyes met, a silent understanding passed between them. YN quickly averted her gaze, focusing on her sketches again. The last thing she wanted was for the crew or, worse, Adam, to pick up on anything. She hadn’t forgotten how quickly Adam had caught on to her feelings before.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Adam’s voice came from behind her, causing YN to jump slightly. 'Speak of the devil.' She thought. “Still sneaking glances at each other when you think no one’s looking?”

YN scowled, trying to play it cool. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Adam slid into the chair next to her, a grin plastered on his face. “Sure, you don’t. Listen, I’ve been watching you two dance around each other for months, and let me just say, it’s about time you made a move. I can’t take credit for all of it, but I’ll graciously accept a thank you gift at some point.”

She sighed, trying to suppress the smile threatening to break through. Adam had become somewhat of a constant nuisance—one that she weirdly enjoyed. He had this infuriating ability to tease her just enough to make her blush, but never enough to push her over the edge.

“Anyways,” Adam continued, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, “just a friendly reminder to be careful. You know how people talk. Last thing you want is the whole crew gossiping. Not saying some people are noticing but people are noticing. It's kind of hard to not notice when your eyes have literal hearts in them when you stare at Eric.”

YN scoffed. “I do not have heart shaped eyes, you asshole but I know what you mean. We’re being careful. I promise.”

Adam gave her genuine smile. “Good, because if Eric gets in trouble, I’m blaming you.”

YN shoved him lightly, laughing as he got up and sauntered back to his mark, ready for the next take. Despite his teasing, Adam’s words stuck with her. They had to be careful—more careful than they’d been so far.

As the shoot dragged on into the late afternoon, Eric called for a break, and YN decided to step outside for some fresh air. She found a quiet corner near the trailers, away from the hustle of the set. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm glow over the lot. She leaned against the side of a trailer, flipping through her sketches absentmindedly.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see a text from Eric.

'Meet me by the craft services tent? I need a break. :,)'

She smiled and tucked the phone away before making her way over. The craft services area was mostly deserted, with only a few crew members milling around, grabbing snacks. Eric stood near the back, sipping coffee and pretending to study the catering options.

When YN approached, he glanced at her, his lips curving into a soft smile. “I’ve been craving some peace and quiet.”

“Peace and quiet on a film set? Good luck with that,” YN teased, stepping closer.

They kept their conversation light, discussing the shoot and the next day’s schedule, but there was an unspoken tension between them. She could feel it in the way Eric’s eyes lingered on her a little longer than they should, in the way his hand brushed hers when he handed her a coffee cup.

“How’s everything going with the storyboards?” Eric asked, his voice soft as if he was trying not to disturb the fragile bubble they were in.

“Good,” She took a sip from her coffee. “I’m almost done with the next sequence. The action scenes are a bit tricky, though.”

Eric nodded, his eyes fixed on hers. “You’re incredible at what you do, YN. I hope you know that.”

Her heart fluttered at the compliment, but she didn’t want to let it show too much. “Well, I learned from the best,” she said, smiling.

Before they could continue, a voice called out, interrupting the moment. “Eric! We need you on set!” Daniel looked a bit more frazzled than usual not even noticing the woman standing next to Eric.

Eric sighed, glancing at YN apologetically. “Duty calls.”

She nodded, giving him a small, understanding smile. “I’ll see you later?”

As he walked away, YN couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions. She was falling for him more and more each day, but there was a part of her that worried about what this meant for her career, for their relationship, (if she could call it that) and for their work. They had to keep this under wraps, but every time they were alone, the lines between professional and personal blurred a little more.

The next few days passed with the same delicate balancing act. YN and Eric kept their relationship under the radar, meeting during breaks or after hours when no one was around. The strain of keeping things secret started to weigh on them both. YN felt like she was constantly looking over her shoulder, worried that someone—especially Pat, the studio's rep who kept fucking with Eric's vison of the film—would figure it out.

One evening, after the crew had wrapped for the day, YN found herself back in the quiet corner near the trailers, her go to spot to relax at this point, trying to unwind after a long day. She didn’t hear Eric approach until he was right beside her.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning against the trailer beside her. His face was tired but still held that warmth she had grown to love.

“Hey,” she replied, smiling up at him. “Rough day?”

“Something like that,” he admitted. “I’ve been thinking…”

His voice trailed off, and YN’s stomach twisted with sudden nerves. “About what?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “About us. About how we’re hiding, sneaking around. I don’t want you to feel like this has to be some kind of secret.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I don’t feel that way, I just… I don’t want to complicate things for you. For either of us.”

Eric met her gaze, and for the first time since they’d crossed that line, his calm, collected exterior cracked. “I don’t care about complications, YN. I care about you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. YN felt her breath catch in her throat as she stared at him, trying to process the weight of his words. She had known, deep down, that this was more than just a casual thing, but hearing him say it out loud made it real in a way she hadn’t expected.

“I care about you, too,” she whispered.

Eric smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “Then maybe it’s time we stop worrying about what everyone else thinks.”

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers, soft and tentative at first, as though testing the waters. YN melted into the kiss, her worries forgotten, her mind consumed by the moment.

When they finally pulled away, Eric rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily.

“We’ll figure this out,” he murmured. “One way or another.”

And in that quiet moment, YN knew he was right. No matter what challenges lay ahead, they would figure it out—together.

[therenlover]

Always For A Second (Usually At The Start) - A Helmut Zemo x Reader fic

"And when I imagine life when it's mine / I can try to picture faceless folk to love a thousand times / But always for a second, and usually at the start / You're in the image posing with a cradled beating heart" - Katie Gregson MacLeod, i'm worried it will always be you

Synopsis: Leaving Helmut for good had been the biggest, most final choice you'd ever had to make. Two years later, he's in your living room again. This time, though, things are different.

Tags: Explicit Smut (+18), Exes, Getting Back Together, Enemies to Lovers to Exes to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, Switch!Zemo, Oral (Fem Receiving), Service Top!Zemo, Aftercare, Bucky is Mentioned Too Much

Rating: E (+18) Minors DNI

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 8,600~

-------------

“I didn’t expect you to come crawling back so soon, schatz,”

The restaurant was crowded enough that nobody heard Helmut’s words, curt and cloying and so fucking familiar. Still, my face heated. It always would for him, no matter how much my common sense protested by body’s reactions. How dare he be so damn effective at getting under my skin? 

Some over-expensive brown liquor sloshed against the rim of the glass in my hand as I lifted it less than gracefully from the table, dribbling down the edge of my mouth as I guided it to my lips and drank deeply. “For one, two years isn’t soon,” I started, swallowing. “Two, you’re the asshole who showed up in my apartment like a robber, which makes you the one who came crawling back. I was just nice enough to let you take me for a free meal to get you the hell out. Three,” I set the glass down sharply, “don’t call me that. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I still haven’t forgiven you,” 

“Apologies,” 

He didn’t mean it. 

“Still, it’s too soon to expect any sort of kindness from you,” he continued, “If I recall correctly, you said you’d rather die than suffer through another night with me for the rest of eternity. I believe an eternity has yet to pass… and yet, here we are,”

His matter of fact tone left little up for debate, unless I wanted to reach for my fork and maim his smug face. Instead, I bit my tongue and swallowed another mouthful of whatever I was drinking.

For once I was glad to be surrounded by the kind of noisy, faceless jumble of humanity that usually made my skin crawl. F. Scott Fitzgerald was on to something with his theories on large crowds and intimacy; there was no better place for two war criminals to meet than the corner booth of a hazy restaurant, lounging and drinking, covered by the blanket of sweet anonymity. Anyone who glanced our way would see two normal human beings sharing a meal in peaceable silence, sharing sparse conversation between bites of this and that. 

They would see lovers.

The thought left a lump in my throat. 

Maybe I looked uncomfortable enough that they would presume, correctly, that we were ex-lovers. I wasn’t hopeful about it, though. 

Helmut noticed, of course, but I knew he would. He had always had an almost supernatural sense for these things, like he could tune into my emotional radio on a frequency I didn’t even fully know myself. Enemy or ally or… otherwise, it was a constant to be seen through and picked apart like carrion. An appetizer for the fights to come. Thankfully, though, he chose to have mercy on me this time in a rare show of respect. Instead of wrapping his lips around another snide comment- even though I could tell it was burning a bitter hole into the tip of his tongue behind his clenched teeth- he chose to pick up a ring of calamari from the plate between us. He held it up to examine the crust in the dim lamplight before placing it delicately against his lips, pulling it from the fork in one bite. Still, he couldn’t be too gracious. Helmut held eye contact as he went.

I could only managed a disgusted sigh but found myself mirrored as his teeth sunk into the squid and his brow furrowed. 

“Bad?” I asked.

He chewed for a good while before managing to swallow the offending clump down, gagging all the way. “Despite my recent diet, that might be the worst thing I’ve eaten in a long while,”

A laugh escaped me before I even knew it was there. “You managed to pick a restaurant where our appetizer is worse than prison food? Serves you right for ordering seafood in the midwest,” 

“I suppose it does.” He nudged the plate towards me with a growing smirk, “See for yourself. I’d hate to see it wasted, and as you said, it is ours. I can’t be expected to finish it alone,” 

As if under the spell of his charisma all over again, I followed his instructions without a second thought. It was just as bad as I anticipated. 

Things were off to a bad start from the moment the tines of my fork hit the batter. The breading seemed to squelch under the pressure, sagging and giving way into meat that was somehow both rubbery and gelatinous, if that was even possible, and if the texture seemed bad outside of my mouth it was even worse inside. Somewhere between its fishy tang and the overly salted batter, there was a bitter, almost sour note that seemed to permeate further with every chew. I spit the macerated glob into my napkin before even attempting to swallow down the remaining spit. 

Across the table, Zemo grinned at my misfortune. “Let’s hope our entrees are less offensive to our palettes,” 

“Fuck off,” I muttered, lips turning up at the edges. 

“You can curse all you want at my poor choice of venue, but I can tell you’re glad you’re the one who ordered the pasta instead of the steak,” 

I went for my glass again, letting the liquor with a name I couldn’t pronounce burn all the way down my throat and into my chest. “I hate that you’re always right, Helmut. Can’t you be wrong, just once? Leave some correctness for the rest of us,” 

Maybe it was the lighting, soft and amber against the dark wood of the table to mask the bloody steaks that would sit below, or maybe it was the music, something old and swinging that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but knew from the radio in my grandmother’s car as a child, or maybe, just maybe, it was the crows feet that popped up around Helmut’s eyes when he smiled that hadn’t been quite so prominent the last time I’d seen him, but no matter the cause, the solid iron wall I had put up around my heart when I walked out of the Baron’s life those two year sago seemed to soften. Weakened, somehow. It was like someone took a blowtorch right to the center of my defenses. Something in me screamed that they had never been all that strong to begin with. 

I only noticed I’d been staring when he looked away, clearing his throat and wiping his thin mouth with the napkin from his lap. 

There went my hand. Helmut, 1. Me, 0… Well, 1, if leaving him those years ago counted for anything, and I refused to believe that it hadn’t. That the blow to his ego hadn’t given me at least a slight upper hand compared to the naive girl I had been in comparison when I first met him. There had been so much good in the world then. 

The silence dragged on as if the structural flaws of my guarded heart could patch themselves up with the defenses created from just a few silent moments between us. That’s all it would take for me to remember all the reasons this would never work: all the pain, the sleepless nights, the snide comments that turned into biting replies that grew into massive, earth-shattering fights that exploded into days or weeks or months living alone in a house with him. One by one, the memories flooded back, reminding me exactly why it had taken me almost two years to find enough peace within myself that I wouldn’t decide to shoot the man in front of me on sight. My heart hardened by the second.

“I saw your concert,” 

I was simultaneously thawed and frozen all over again. “How did you-“ 

“James mentioned it,” 

“You still talk to Bucky?” 

“Here and there,” 

The conversation lapsed into silence. 

He had… been there? I didn’t even bother to think about the talk I’d have to have with Bucky about my privacy, too focused on the more important matter at hand. 

The venue was grungy, a basement bar with a small stage serving the communities aspiring comedians and desperate punk-rock garage dwellers just waiting for their big break. I had barely had the guts to pay the booking fee, though. It was just me, a piano, and my guitar for an hour and a half set of mostly cover songs that had gone better than I’d expected, but hadn’t been anything crazy. The crowd was appreciative and respectful. Several people had left tips, even more giving me a congratulatory clap on the back as I left the building that night, promising to “stream my EP” whenever I released it, despite the fact that I had no plans to do any such thing. Still, I couldn’t imagine that I hadn’t seen his face in the crowd. I couldn’t name what I was feeling as I imagined it; visualized his face on the other side of the smoky room, leaned against the bar with his dark eyes catching hold of mine…

“You came and you didn’t say anything? Not even a hello?” 

Helmut laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “And risk my life over a free concert? No.” He paused, “Despite my tendency to sometimes be… less than kind, I knew it would rattle you to see me. I didn’t want to throw you off before your performance.” 

I didn’t have much of anything to say in response. Instead, I picked at the paper straw wrapper in my lap and tried to look anywhere but in his direction, shoving down whatever was welling up in my chest. He wouldn’t let things go, though. He never could. That was half of why we’d never work. Every time I tried to drop an uncomfortable subject he’d be there to pick it up with a snide comment or two. It was an easy rhythm. Too easy. I had never wanted to fall back into it and yet, here I was, almost excited to snipe his next words down. 

“Cain misses you,” He continued. 

I folded the straw wrapper in my hands, pulling at the crease as I thought about the doberman puppy I had left behind. He would be so big now, as big as the one I’d taken with me was now. My heart ached at the thought. 

“I doubt he remembers me after all this time,” 

“Of course he does,” Helmut’s voice was low. It was almost hypnotic, the way he carried himself. He could fool anyone. I realized, with a sinking feeling in my stomach that couldn’t have been the calamari, he could still fool me. “He’s quite the troublemaker. More times than I can count he’s evaded me in the house, only to be found asleep in your old closet. I think he remembers your scent,” 

“Thats…” I sat quiet for a moment, pursing through choices of words in my mind, mulling over the sharp accented way he pronounced the t in scent, “Sad. Really sad. Makes me wish I could’ve taken them both,” 

“And what of Brutus?”

“He’s good,” A smile crossed my face. “Big, as you saw tonight. I remember when we got them, they told us they’d be 60 pounds at most, but I swear Brutus must’ve snuck in with the rest of those puppies, because he’s massive. Headbutts me every time I walk through the door wondering where I was. He’s a good boy, though. Keeps watch while I sleep, just in case.”

“Just in case I decided to let myself in through the window one night?”

I let myself laugh without judgement this time, reaching for my water. “Looks like it was all for nothing, then. Who knew he’d just let intruders come waltzing in off of the fire escape?” 

“Am I truly considered an intruder in your home?” He asked it as if the answer wasn’t obvious. As if there were any other answer I could possibly give. As if I could’ve wanted him there. His earnestness almost hurt as much as his taunting did, maybe more, because even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, there was a soft ring of truth to his words. 

I took the cowards way out. “I don’t know, what do you think?” 

It was a vulnerability to not give a straight answer, the kind of weak spot that Helmut would catch wind of in an instant before using it to unravel someone piece by piece. Not a no, but certainly not a yes, and the fact that it hadn’t been a resounding yes was enough to glean that maybe, deep down, I wasn’t hating this dinner. He would see through me. Rip me to shreds for the subtle admittance that I hadn’t hated seeing him waiting for me on the couch when I walked through my door, even if I hadn’t expected or wanted him there in the first place. 

I found it was better to lie by omission than to fully lie and let him see through me to the more important truth; For as much as I despised everything about him, I had missed Helmut Zemo. I had missed his stupid expensive taste and the tilt of his stupid head and his stupid shiny white smile. I had missed seeing his coat hung up beside the door and knowing what waited for me inside. It was sick how I had loved him. How I had loved every minute of him picking me apart by the seams and putting me back together. Who could possibly crave their own destruction? Who could live knowing that to be loved was to be deconstructed down to the bone and laid bare as something lesser, something so small compared to the great destroyer I devoted myself to. 

How could he let me live like that if he truly saw through me? 

And that was why I had to leave. 

Loving Helmut Zemo was no way to live. I knew that. I had known that the day I picked up my dog and walked out of our home with nothing but my wallet, car keys, phone, and a polaroid picture of his silhouette. Somehow, I knew that he knew that too. Why else would I move on so suddenly, so sharply, removing every piece of the life we’d built to start myself fresh? A new me, I had said. A new chapter. Yet here I was across from him, shredded bits of paper littering my lap as he puppeteered my heart right back into his arms. 

No. I couldn’t let it happen. 

Not again. 

“Listen, baron,” I didn’t let him answer my rhetorical question. It wouldn’t be wise to let him gain the upper hand again. It wouldn’t be smart to let myself stay weak. “I appreciate dinner. It’s been surprisingly lovely to catch up with you. I’m glad to know you’re not dead, and its great to know Cain is doing well, but I know you weren’t here to tell me that over a plate of mediocre pasta,” 

Helmut smiled, his head in its signature tilt, and swished his own glass a bit. The ice was all but melted giving the liquor an almost clear quality as it diluted. Not a sip had been taken. “Ask the question, schatz,” 

“Why are you here? Why did you stalk me here and break into my apartment when I made it clear that you weren’t welcome in my life?” My words came out so matter of fact even I almost recoiled at them. Not unemotional but detached. 

“Um, who had the chicken alfredo?”

I could feel the blood drain from my face as I looked up at the poor waiter, hot plates in hand, as he took in our table at just the wrong time. Five minutes earlier he would have walked in on polite conversation about the dogs or the shitty appetizers. Now, though, he stood between a man who was known to kill for the things he wanted and me, the one thing he could never have again. 

Surprisingly, though, Helmut waved a hand towards me as I froze. There were none of the usual dramatics, just polite chatter with the waiter as he set my plate in front of me and left Helmut with his, taking the offending calamari plate away with him as he scurried away, surely to tell his coworkers about the crazy exes at the corner table. Helmut didn't even carry on with his answer. He just started tucking in to his steak and potatoes, not sparing me a single glance. If I didn’t know better, if I hadn’t memorized the way his eyes looked in the low light of a restaurant across from me, I would think he’d been replaced by a skrull.

Where was the tearing? The shredding? The utter evisceration of my waiting throat as he drank deeply of my darkest, most shameful thoughts only to spit them out for the world to see. Where was that shame? In the before times, in the times that the two of us had been a we, he never would have paused to mind a waiter. The world would have revolved around him as he laid me bare, no matter who watched or waited in the wings. What changed? 

How had I not noticed his docility until now?

The pasta was decent. It was better than anything I would’ve made at home, at least. I barely thought about it, though, letting my body go through the motions of eating mechanically while my mind went over a million things I could say. What could I say? There was nothing left to. We had gone over every possibility before I had left, at least I thought we had. Whatever we were was dead. That was certain. But what we could be…

I swallowed hard before I could choke on a relatively large piece of broccoli I neglected to chew in my trance. 

Helmut seemed to be in a painfully similar situation. One look at his plate showed a steak cut into tiny pieces. Almost none of it looked eaten, just diced into a pile and shuffled around a bit on the plate to mix with the potatoes, smashed down from their neat ice cream scoop globe and spread with the back of a fork. 

With a sigh, I set down my fork, pasta already forgotten. 

“Lost your appetite?” 

He paused his fiddling with his fork and knife, mirroring me and letting the utensils rest on the table beside his plate. It was odd to see him rattled. Strange to watch his eyes roll up to the ceiling and pause there, as if he was searching for the right words to say. He always knew just what to say to cut the deepest. Maybe it was foreign for him to not want to cut; To find a soft word, instead of a sharpened one. His mouth opened one… two…three times. Open and shut, open and shut. I couldn’t help but hurt for him. The man of many words was finally struck dumb. 

Finally, it came. 

“I’m sorry,” 

I had anticipated a selfish reply, a demand for me to come back and put the past two years behind us, but time had changed him. It had changed us both. He was no longer the man he had been when he was first freed from behind bars, vengeful and biting and so deeply afraid of being alone again, but I was no longer the lost girl I had been either. I did not need to be destroyed to breathe. I could feel tears pricking up in my eyes as he reached a hand across the table to search for my own. It was such a familiar sight in a time of uncertainty. I kept my hands firmly in my lap, though. I would not give him the satisfaction. 

More, I would not give him hope.

“Come home, schatz,”  

There it was. 

I couldn’t hold in the bitter, wet laugh that bubbled up through me, more at my own foolishness than at anything else. He had changed, yes, but some things never would. 

“Helmut,” The word hurt to say. It was altogether both familiar and unfamiliar, covered in a thick layer of dust from time, but nothing could erase the fact that it had once been used over and over, like a prayer, as easy as breathing or saying my own name. “You know I can’t,” 

He let his hand slink back to his side. “I had to try, you know,”

“I know,” The words were a whisper. 

So this was closure? 

The table was quiet. There was no desperation from Helmut’s side, no attempts to sway me or sudden outbursts of resentment. It was almost peaceful. His voice was sad but there was no manipulation in it. We laid our cards of the table as the game we’d played for years finally came to an end. 

“You were right about us, when you left,” he laughed, “I was, as you so aptly put it, a massive ass. I was still so deeply disillusioned about this world and the horrors of it. It was as if everyone around me was just another cog in it all, even you. I thought if I could puppet it all, make things go my way, everything could just be quiet. The horrors would finally stop. The memories would finally stop. I took it too far, though. I took it out on you. For that, I will never be sorry enough,” 

I put up a hand. “Helmut, you don’t have to do this-“

“I want to,”

His voice was delicate but didn’t waver. For the first time I wondered if this was more about what he needed to say than about what I needed to hear. I nodded him on. Without me even thinking about what I was doing, my hand caught his across the table.

“I wanted to run after you the same day you left. I nearly did, too, before I thought better of it. Then I really thought of what you said. What I did. It was then that I decided I had to change for the better, not for you but for myself. Only then would I allow myself to try again. So I did. I spent my time deconstructing the things I had seen and done and finally facing my own demons. I’m not perfect- believe me -but there are many things I have… worked on, for lack of a better word. James was surprisingly helpful throughout it all,” 

“Is that why you’ve been talking?” My thumb stroked over his knuckles, pausing on a scar. 

“More or less. I needed advice on how to overcome my atrocities, and I owed him an apology either way. He told me about your concert because he thought I would be ready to make amends, and yet I found myself unable to speak to you because I knew that if I did, I would have to beg you for forgiveness, and that is not something I will allow myself to do from anyone. Not now, nor ever,”

I let myself pull away. This was not a movie. There was no happy ending for the two of us at the end of this conversation. It was a chance to clear the air and let go of our grievances before going our separate ways. Treating it any other way would only hurt us both. “Why break in, then, and drag this all out over dinner? Why not just knock on my door, apologize, and leave?”

“I couldn’t have you slamming the door in my face and leaving me to apologize to the wall, now could I?” 

We shared a sad smile, a knowing one. “I guess that’s true.” 

“I needed to know you would hear what I had to say until the end,” he paused, “And one last confession. I must admit, I could not walk away without sharing dinner with you one last time. It’s selfish, as I am selfish, but I could not see you again without truly seeing you, more than just as you shouted at me and threw me to the curb,” 

“You think so little of me?” I asked. There was no bite in it. 

“No, I think so little of myself,” he finally took a sip from his glass, “Any anger on your part is warranted,” 

We did not speak again for a long while. Helmut methodically went through the bite-sized pieces of steak on his plate as I finished the alfredo, which had grown cold in the time it took to sort things out. There was no quiet conversation, no jokes or shared stories in the glow of the lamps overhead. Instead we sat in peaceable silence and breathed in the finality of it all. I was almost grateful for it. I never would have imagined sharing a meal like this with him in all of the years I had known him and loved him. If it was to be the last, and it was, we would savor every moment of each others company. Every moment not spent on my meal was devoted to memorizing the line of his jaw and the shape of his eyes as he did the same for me. 

By the time the waiter came to ask about dessert, I could have written sonnets about his face alone, and by the time he returned with the check, paid discreetly with a 40% tip for his troubles on Helmut’s card, I had committed the sound of his breathing to my mind. I could only hope the memory would last this time.

Realistically, I knew it wouldn’t. 

I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as we approached the front of the restaurant together, pausing awkwardly outside the door as we exited out onto the street. 

“So, this is it,” My hands found the pockets of my coat as I rocked onto the balls of my feet. 

Helmut smiled softly in the lamplight. “Let me walk you home,” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” 

“Says who? I have to follow you either way, my car is parked down the block,” He offered me his arm. 

I took it far quicker than I should have, relishing in the scent of his cologne. Even after all these years he had never switched to another brand, and I refused to admit to anyone else but myself that I was grateful for it. Instead I leaned into his warmth. “Well, it’s only a few blocks anyways. I guess it couldn’t hurt,” and with that, we were off. 

The night was cool. Summer had given in to the pull of a lush fall, the temperatures dropping to a comfortable but windy chill when the sun fell below the horizon. The leaves were not yet falling but they’d begun their slow transformation from green into a mosaic of reds and yellows and greens, forming a rustling canopy above the sidewalk that allowed a flash of stars and moon through the foliage every few steps. 

We were not the only pair walking through the streets that night, but if you had asked me about it later I would have said we were the only two people in the whole city, matching each other step for step under the flickering streetlights. Helmut’s crows feet were in full force as he laughed at my terrible jokes, and I couldn’t help but feel warmth rush through my neck and cheeks as he recounted the moment we first met. 

It had been fall then, too. A brief, chance encounter in the streets of Paris was all it was, a night spend with a stranger, until I had seen him again in Sibera, and again in Germany, and again on the Raft, and again, and again, and again, and again…

He had been younger then, much younger, and still raw with grief, but I had loved him even then.

I was so lost in my own memories that I almost missed the stairs up to my apartment, but Helmut paused there, keeping me rooted with him even though the look in his eyes told me he almost kept walking past, hoping to gain one more turn around the block before he had to let me go. He didn't, though. This was the end of the line. 

My arm slipped easily from its place against his own, hand catching briefly on the crook of his elbow. “Walk me to my door?”

His laugh felt almost nervous, a paid mockery of my own earlier reticence. “I don’t think that’s wise,” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman, baron?” 

“I have never claimed that,” For a moment, when he paused, I thought that would be that. I would turn my back, ascend the stairs, and turn around to find he’d shifted back into the shadows from whence he came, but then the moonlight caught on his soft, wet eyes. “But for you, schatz, I try to be,” 

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say as we walked up the front steps and into the building. 

It had been so angry last time. I had vomited up every hateful, raging, repressed thought that I had shoved down into my chest over the course of our turbulent time together all at once and left without a second glance. This time, though, it felt wrong to end things without giving him credit for all of the other things, the things I had forgotten in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded us. How could I thank him? How could I tell him every wonderful thing about himself only to close the door in his face a moment later? I spent the whole trip up to my apartment trying to find a way to express even an ounce of what I felt, and then it was far too late. 

We stood there on my novelty doormat, boots settled over the dirty cartoon chickens, hands in our pockets, and breathed in the stale hallway air. 

“Thank you for dinner,” I said. If I shut off my heart and my mind and every other little betraying ache in my bones it was like it had been all those years ago. We were just meeting. This was the end of our very first date. There was a future instead of a past in the time that lay beyond us. 

Helmut averted his eyes from mine. I could tell he was pretending too. “Of course,” 

“I’ll see you again,” I lied, “I mean, it’s inevitable. We’ll end up at Bucky’s place at the same time,” 

“Or run into each other at a busy cafe,” he offered. 

“Exactly! Or our cells will end up next to each other in maximum security prison,” I laughed, but it caught, pathetic, in the back of my throat.  

He took a step back, boots leaving my doorstep. “I look forward to it, whenever it may be,” 

My shaking hands found my keys, an autopilot motion I had done a million times, and the door to my apartment swung open. I could hear Brutus in his kennel, beginning to whine the moment he heard me come home, but I paused there for a moment, one foot in and one foot out. 

“Goodbye, Helmut,” 

“Sleep well, schatz,” 

I stepped inside and locked the door without turning around for a last look. 

My tears came quicker than expected as I took in the room around me. It was the antithesis of my home with Helmut, all whites and beiges and grays from the sparse walls to the lonely couch against the wall. There was one great shock of black, though; a solid footprint on the windowsill. One last souvenir to remember him by. 

I had done the right thing. 

I had to have done the right thing. 

Life with Helmut was hell. It was exciting and lush and romantic and alluring but it was destructive and painful too. It would mean being seen and unseen for the rest of my life, living with the ghosts of those lost in Novi Grad. He would never stop being the man his grief had created. He was just too broken… wasn’t he? 

All at once I knew I had to see him again. This wasn’t going to be the end. There were still so many chances to make it right. 

Before I knew my own feelings, I was undoing the latch and throwing my door open, only to find him there, feet planted solidly on that stupid welcome mat and fist raised to lift the knocker. Our eyes locked. 

We didn’t need words then. 

No, all I needed was his lips on mine and my hands in his hair. It was a need easily rectified. 

He didn’t pull away as I grabbed the edges of his ridiculous fur coat and dragged him in for a kiss, letting the remains of that day’s lipstick smear against his chapped lips as the parted and made way for me. It was like a piece of my puzzle fell back into place, like the thing that had been lying dormant in my empty chest for the past two years had jumped to life and jumped into my throat. The tears weren’t coming anymore, though Helmut’s cheeks felt wet when I guided one of my hands to rest against it, dragging him closer. I needed him urgently. I needed all of it. Every moment I had missed. 

At least one time in my entire tiny, useless life I needed to know him as he had always known me. I had to see him through eyes that would know every atom of him by heart. 

It could have lasted second or hours. I was lost in it; lost in every heartbeat and the messy clack of teeth on teeth as we remembered exactly how our mouths locked into each other. There was no need to breathe. I would happily drown in him if he would let me. Through the passion I distinctly remembered this fervor, the endless need for him. It wasn’t frightening anymore, though. I knew how to walk away. We both did. 

This time I didn’t want to. 

Helmut was the first to pull away. His mouth was wet and red as he panted there, just a breath away from diving in for more, but he pulled away when I advanced again, instead choosing to speak between placing kisses on my cheeks and down my jaw. “I couldn’t let you walk away from me. Not again,” his voice shook as he kissed me, “Does that make me a bad man? Does that mean you can’t love me?” 

I could only breathe a laugh as I pressed my chest to him. No measure of closeness was enough. I needed him to cover every inch of me. “I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried, and I’ve tried,” 

“Please, stop trying,”

With that, he caught me in another kiss. 

“We should probably go inside,” I panted, gesturing towards the apartment with my head and Helmut nodded, maneuvering us over the threshold and into the barren entryway of the home  I’d made without him. It didn’t matter, though. That wasn’t what I was focused on. Instead, my hands were more focused on pulling his coat from his shoulders and discarding it loosely in the direction of the coat rack between fevered kisses. 

The old Helmut would’ve pulled away and make some snarky remark about keeping the place clean. This Helmut, though- my Helmut, as I had selfishly started to refer to him mentally in the past few moments -just dragged me in closer after his arms were freed, letting his hand drift to the small of my back but not even an inch lower.

Suddenly, though, things seemed to cool. The kisses grew shorter, softer. His arms still held me but seemed to loosen their grip. 

“Tell me you want this,” He whispered softly against the shell of my ear, “That you want me,” 

Ah. So that’s what this is. 

“Helmut, of course I do-“ 

“That’s not enough,” his voice was laced with a rare seriousness as he pulled away to look at me properly. His brown eyes glowed a million honeyed colors under the shitty, flickering overhead lighting I should have replaced months ago. They flitted from my swollen mouth to my cheeks to my watery eyes as his hand came up to cup my cheeks again. “Tell me this isn’t a mistake or a bad decision you’ll regret the second we finish,” 

The rest went unsaid. 

(Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me this means something to you, even if it doesn’t mean as much as it does to me. Tell me I won’t wake up alone tomorrow morning. Tell me anything and everything except the cruel reality that neither of us really knows what the future looks like once this is over)

I simply nodded my head, coming in for one closed mouth kiss. “I want this. I want you. Whatever I choose to do next, you’ll be a part of the decision. No more running away,” 

Like a shot, we were off to the races again. 

It was hard to detach our bodies long enough to give Brutus a treat to quiet him down, harder still to lead him to the bedroom and drop his hand long enough to turn on a nearby lamp, but somehow I managed. For all of the small things I’d forgotten about Helmut in the two years we’d spent apart, his bitten nails and the silhouette of his nose and the sound of his labored breathing as he took in my body with something akin to animalistic hunger, it was easy to fall back into the rhythm we’d always found ourselves in intimately. 

His shirt came off first, exposing the soft curve of his stomach. I kissed down from his neck to his chest, letting myself pause on each and every pinkish scar that graced his flesh. I made a mental note to ask him about a few new ones, including a wicked one across his collarbone that still puckered into an inch long divot in his flesh. My fingers followed my mouth, mapping every inch of his flesh. They caught on every soft yielding place he offered, a worship on the altar of his body, dragging his flesh ever so slightly but never enough to leave a scratch or bruise. 

I would not mark him any more than the world already had. It was not my purpose to remold him into my image. Instead I would venerate what he was, what he had become. 

Helmut had put so much effort into changing himself, rebreaking the things that had never healed correctly and setting them right again. I refused to let him break down to splinters again. Not on my watch. 

He shuddered at my attentions. 

“Let me see you?” It was a question, not a demand, and how could I deny him when he asked so nicely? 

I stood up again, relishing in the feeling of his fingers against the hem of my t-shirt, the gentle scratch of nails on skin as he lifted it over my head. When he looked at me, it was like he was looking at the most precious thing in the world. Usually he was so hungry for it that there was never a pause once my shirt was discarded. My bra would be thrown off with it, then my pants, then my underwear, all in such quick succession that I barely distinguished one article from the next in the order of things. This time, though, he paused, hands just inches from my bare flesh. 

“My sweet girl,” he whispered to me like a prayer, a confession, “I don’t think I can hold back much longer,” 

Slowly, deliberately, I stepped forward and pressed my body into his awaiting hands. He squeezed my hips once, gentle, and twice. Then they were roaming up to the clasp on my bra with that usual hunger again, freeing my breasts for his attentions. I don’t exactly recall how he manhandled me on to the bed, I was too busy feeling the hard press of his bulge through his crisp dress slacks. The first thing I was fully cognizant of was his hot breath on my sternum as he hovered over me, still standing but bent at the waist, boxing me in with his knees. 

“So fucking sweet,” he whispered before taking one of my nipples between his lips and laving his tongue over the hardening tip. 

I felt like a live wire. Heat was building everywhere. Dazzling electricity shot through my head and fingers and toes and cunt and gods especially my breasts. They were always my weak spot, and how he knew it, how he knew me. I wanted to thrash against him, to buck and gain his attention where I really needed it, but his body above mine held me fast, keeping me right where he wanted me, vulnerable to him and his specific brand of torture. With a particularly sharp pinch and a well timed suck he had me keening against him, curling into his every move. 

How had I lived without him? It was hard to imagine a night not spend here with Helmut, wherever here was, not that that mattered. I was embarrassingly wet. The slickness had gathered enough that I could feel it on my thighs despite my jeans. When I tried to relieve myself, though, the baron caught my hand, tutting softly. 

I expected to have to ask permission. Soft begs escaped my mouth. I needed him. I had no patience for games. Instead, though, he lifted up off of my chest and smiled, pulling my hand to his lips. “Let me help you, love,” 

There are no words in the human language that could adequately represent the sound that escaped my mouth. I could not even begin to try. It continued even as I lifted my hips to shimmy free from my jeans and underwear in one fluid motion, only ceasing when Helmut was on his knees with his face buried in my cunt. I was making different noises then. Loud. Guttural. If I had any mind left at all I would worry what my neighbors thought, to see me out on my doorstep desperately pawing at a man only to hear the noises we were making in tandem now. Thankfully, any sensible thought I had left seemed to fly out the window with Helmut’s first lick to my cunt. 

It was clear that he hadn’t forgotten me, and if he had, the muscle memory was coming back quick. His tongue was deft as it worked its way over my aching nub in a pseudo-figure eight; circling once, twice, and three times before dipping back through my folds. I held him in place this time, though, rocking into his mouth. At some point my hands found their way into his hair. It was so soft between my fingers, so pliable as I pulled against him, desperate for more of him, anything he would good. 

Every time he relented to me. Each sharp jolt was rewarded with a kiss against my thigh or a muttered curse in Sokovian, hot breath teasing my glistening mound. 

He was so giving, so attentive to my every need. He had always been a generous lover, never leaving me wanting for anything, but this felt… different. The way he sucked bruises into my thighs, relenting to each and every sobbing please that escaped my soft lips, was a new and devastating experience. There were no power games left to play, no lording his sexual prowess over me as he brought me slowly closer and closer to the ever distant goalpost, just his mouth on me over and over and over again as he wrung the first orgasm of the night out of me, then the second in short measure, barely ceasing from one to the next.

By the time he decided I’d had my fill, my legs were a trembling mess against his shoulders and my cunt was a sopping mess. 

He grinned a crooked grin at his masterpiece.

“How was that, my love,” 

I could barely catch my breath enough to speak. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, thrumming a frantic drumbeat even as the room quieted. “So good- really really good, Helmut,” 

Slowly, he rose up from his knees, undoing his belt. “Please say my name again, schatz,” 

“Helmut,” My voice was hushed. Reverent. 

He undid the button at his fly, pulling at the band of his boxers. “Again,” 

It fell from my lips like a prayer. “Helmut,”

His cock bounced free, bobbing as he took a sharp, steadying breath. He placed his hand at the base and squeezed slightly. 

“Again,” 

“Helmut,” 

“Fuck, that’s good,” The trance broke momentarily as I gazed up at him, watching the sweat roll down his forehead in shining rivulets despite the chill in the air. He wiped at them with the back of his free hand and smiled sheepishly. “Scoot back and get comfortable, please. I don’t think I’ll last long,” 

I did as he asked, settling against my pillows on the still-made sheets. “Neither will I,” 

“Where are your condoms?” 

“Bedside drawer, way in the back. I’m on the pill too, so no worries,” 

He moved quickly, grabbing a foil package from the small pile I’d accrued, just in case. 

It felt odd to have him be the one using them. 

There had been a few other men who had been invited here, fewer still that made it to the point that Helmut and I were at now. Every time, though, I hadn’t been able to go through with it, because every time they had finally settled themselves above me, I would close my eyes and, just for a moment, see Helmut in their place. It was unsettling the first time, enough so that I sent the guy home right away. The next time, though, it was more thought provoking than anything. I chalked it up to him being my longest lasting sexual partner and left it at that, but now, watching him roll the condom onto his length and crawl into his position over me, I knew. 

I would never get over him, even if I tried for years. My heart had a space carved out in the shape of his own. No matter how long I stayed away, I would never find something quite like what we had. He was it. This was what people dreamed about. And to think, I had almost let it slip away…

He slid one hand into mine, lacing our fingers together in the gentle lamplight. “Are you ready for me?” 

“More than ready,” My thighs spread as I canted my hips up.

Physically and mentally and every other possible way I needed him. I was prepared. 

So Helmut pumped himself once with his free hand before guiding himself into my wet heat. 

It was impossible to last long once we were finally complete. 

Feeling him inside me was like knowing the truth of the universe. It was comfortable, and thrilling, and so deliciously enough. He filled me well, finding his rhythm as he swore and released my hand to prop himself up more comfortably. We were linked together like the final pieces of a puzzle. I closed my eyes at let myself relish in it. 

There was nothing left to worry over while Helmut was inside of me. All thoughts that weren’t of him were banished. It was something to be cherished, every thrust paired with a whispered confession of love from one of us, a fleeting kiss, a curse, a plea… We laid ourselves bare. I let my legs wrap around his warm, soft hips as he rutted into me, bringing a hand between us to circle my clit once more. Even after everything he refused to leave me behind while he chased his own pleasure. It didn’t take much to send me tumbling over the edge into oblivion. 

As always, Helmut followed me down. 

His thrusts quickened, then stilled as he came to rest upon me, panting and heaving and begging for breath. I didn’t care much. He smelled of cologne and sweat as I buried my face in his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could feel him soften inside of me but I was far too spent to urge him to move.

We only shifted apart when he slipped free of me.

Helmut quickly kissed my forehead and gathered himself up, shuffling to the trash can to discard the used condom and grab a tissue to wipe himself up. I didn’t let myself move an inch. If I moved, would the bliss run away? Would I realize what I’d done? I let myself lay instead, eyes closed, panting in the autumn chill as my lover approached and wiped up our beautiful mess as gently as he could manage. With one last kiss to my thigh, he discarded the rag, opened the window, and crawled back into bed with me. 

The process was indelicate, a lot of awkward shuffling of sticky limbs, but we were settled beneath the blankets soon enough. Helmut stroked his fingers down my arm languidly while kissing the back of my neck. 

I broke the peace between us. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what this means for us,” 

He sighed gently. His breath was soothing and familiar against my shoulder. “That’s not something we have to decide at this very moment,” 

“But I just don’t want you to think this means something… or at least something more than it does? If that makes sense? I don’t know,”

“Schatz, please,” 

“I want to keep my own place, at least for now. I don’t know what that means for when I’ll see you or if we’ll keep doing this,” I gestured vaguely to my nude body beneath the sheets, “or if we’re even a thing anymore, bu-“ 

Helmut reached his arm around us, placing a quieting finger over my lips and another soft kiss against my shoulder. 

“I swear, your mind sounds even louder than mine,” 

“Sorry,” 

“No reason to be,” His hand left my lips, running down to my stomach and pulling me back towards the softness of his chest. “As for your questions, I shall respect your wishes about distance and housing and labels, whatever they may be. That being said, as long as you’re still up for… this, as you put it, I will never deny you, no matter the distance. I would cross oceans for you,” 

A cum-drunk, half-asleep giggle escaped me as he nuzzled in, kissing my ear. 

“Thank you,” 

“No, thank you,” he matched my laughter with his own, “I believe this is what James would call post nut clarity,” 

“Now you ruined it!” I huffed. The faux anger only lasted a moment, though, before I was rolling to face him, cheek pressed to the soft, downy hair of his chest. “I love you, Helmut.” 

“I love you too, sweet girl. Now sleep. I’ll get up and deal with the dog once you’re resting,” 

For the first time in two years, I breathed in the scent of Helmut’s cologne before lapsing into a peaceful sleep.

---------

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first foray into smut in literal years, and it was literally all written within a 12 hour period, so I hope any mistakes weren't enough to take away from your enjoyment. Comments are always appreciated, but never expected. See you on the next authors note!

[zemosbff]

zemo headcanons

(nsfw)

a/n: guys i love zemo so much, i want and need him so badly :( i can’t decide whether i like soft or ruthless sex the most when it comes to him lol, i feel like he has a soft side but god how i want him to just grab my hips harshly and fuck into me with no mercy … anyways …!!!!

MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY

⋆˙⟡- enemies to lovers <33

⋆˙⟡- constantly bickering soon turned into something more sexual

⋆˙⟡- would kiss your tears away while thrusting into you hard

⋆˙⟡- fucking you with his mask on during a mission to let off some steam!!!

⋆˙⟡- he’s soooo devoted to you and would let the world burn just for you

⋆˙⟡- massaging your shoulders after a long day while gently kissing your neck from behind

⋆˙⟡- calls you pet names in sokovian

⋆˙⟡- dom!zemo <33

⋆˙⟡- he would take you anywhere, in the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, anywhere, anytime

⋆˙⟡- “you want your baron to fuck you hm? be a good slut for me”

⋆˙⟡- he’s not one to shy away from moaning in your ear (real men moan in their girls ear!!!!!)

⋆˙⟡- you can’t tell me he’s not a muncher …

[nxtaliaistyping]

Need Baron Zemo to fuck me with the mask on :(

Authors note: omg i'm not really into the mcu anymore, but nothing can stop me thinking about this man I need him so badddddd (and daniel bruhl in general tbh)

18+ nsfw, villain kink, mask kink, fingering, rough sex, brief mention of killing

Thinking about being his girl, his pretty thing that sits in his lap while he drinks the most expensive wine in his expensive penthouse (just because he's on the run, doesn't mean he can't be in style)

You know who he is, the things he's done, but you just don't care. Not when he caresses you so gently, cooing soft words in your ear of how beautiful and enchanting he finds you, how much you fill the empty void left within him after Sokovia fell and everyone he loved was wiped out.

And if anything, he's too gentle. Not wanting to frighten you, the poor little lamb that you were, cuddling up to such a dangerous man every night. So he attempts to shield things from you, what he's done and what he's capable of.

But that changes one day, you feel the compulsive need to find out more about your lover, or at least see what he's like when he's the ruthless and strategic criminal that you've been told about. This leads you to following him, not an easy task, but you see how readily he is able to get his hands dirty. Tracking down some old HYDRA agent that has information that is useful to him, and you watch in slight horror and slight awe how he interrogates the man.

Although you have to look away at certain parts, hearing presumably the agent's body hitting the cold ground with a soft thud. While you try and leave quietly, you underestimated how much planning had went into his operation, because on your attempted escape you feel a large hand grab your upper arm, yanking you towards him with force and the start of a threat before he stops.

"dragă? what are you doing here?" he asks, his tone still slightly deeper than usual as you stare into his brown eyes; the only facial features visible while he wears the dark purple mask.

As you stumble over your words, telling him that you wanted to see the real him, he can't help but notice the slight flush of your skin, the way your chest rises and your lips part. In that moment he finally understands.

"Oh...I think I understand now. My little girl likes that i'm so dangerous, hm?" he asks, and you can hear the smirk behind his teasing lilt, his head cocked to one side as you nod, embarassed.

Soon enough, he has you pinned to the wall, hand stuffed between your thighs as he fingers your tight cunt from under your skirt. You whimper and whine at his treatment, and he revels in the fact you're so depraved, so naughty, and all for him.

"Do you like this, hm sreco? I was going to take this mask off, but I have a feeling that isn't what you desire." he rasps against your ear, and you nod breathlessly at how right his assumption was. All you can do is look up at him, clenching and making a mess around his fingers as you whine.

When he pulls his fingers away, he doesn't give you time to recover before you find yourself bent over a wooden crate and his cock is forcing its way in your pussy. He's never treated you as roughly as this before, but something about his girl loving how ruthless he is, wanting him to keep his goddamn mask on, flipped a switch in him as he starts a rough pace. The echoes of his hips slamming into your ass make you flush with embarrassment, gripping the edges of the surface for dear life, pretty nails he paid for digging into the wood.

"So filthy for me, my little girl is nothing but a slut." he groans out, squeezing your ass before giving it a harsh spank. The rhythm of his cock railing you has your eyes nearly crossing, as you try not to think about the fact you're fucking an older man after he's literally just killed someone.

When he cums, he buries himself to the hilt inside of you, feeling the way you tighten around him and squeeze every last drop out. As his breathing returns to normal, so too does his headspace as he rips the mask off quickly, pulling out to shush you gently and hold you in his arms.

"There we are dragă i'm here, i'm right here. I'm sorry for being so rough."

Taking you home, he'd spoil his good girl with a bath and food, but in the back of his mind he's already planning out how he can fuck you like that again.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

[nocapesdahling]

Put that Pen Away

Laszlo Kreizler x GN! Reader

My Masterlist

Summary: You come across a man writing in books in your bookstore and have to put a stop to it. Yet you can’t help but think he looks familiar and for a book vandal, he’s surprisingly charming. 

Warnings/Tags: Fluff; Modern Laszlo Kreizler; Featuring Laszlo’s glasses

Word Count: 667

A/N: This one is a bit short, but I’m very excited to be dipping my toes back into writing and a sweet and silly fic featuring Modern Laszlo seemed like a perfect place to start. Hope you enjoy!

You were walking the aisles of the store to see if anyone needed help and to make sure no books were out of place when you saw him. You first noticed his profile, bearded with a lovely nose, his neck wrapped in a scarf and a pair of clear circular glasses rounding out the look. What really made you stop however was not the fact that it was a handsome profile, but that he seemed familiar somehow.

As you gathered yourself and walked closer, the next thing you noticed was he had one of the books out open on one of the tables as he leaned over it. And he wasn’t reading it. Oh no, he was writing in it. Writing in one of your store’s books. That was unacceptable, it was defacement of the highest order. That poor book. Handsome familiar profile or not, you couldn’t let that stand.

“Excuse me, sir. You can’t write in the books. Please don’t do that.”

He sighed and it sounded world weary, like he’d been caught writing in books before and he was tired of people stopping him. Well good, he should be. He should have learned his lesson the first time.

He had the audacity to finish whatever it was he was writing before gently closing the book and sliding it back onto the shelf. You made a note of where it was for its later removal and held in a shudder at the thought that he might have written in others.

He turned to you and you moved your eyes away from the books to take in his face. The gasp you let out was hopefully inaudible. It was Laszlo Kreizler. The Laszlo Kreizler. The author whose books you’d devoured since he published his first Alienist novel, reading them again and again, and the man you’d had a slight crush on ever since seeing his author photo at the end of book one. Well if you were being honest with yourself, it was a little more than a slight crush. However, it was nice to fantasize about people you’d never meet, and a famous author was a harmless person to have a crush on. It’s not like you ever thought you’d meet him in real life. Your favorite author was here in your store, and even more handsome in person. Somehow. And he was writing in books?!

“Can I do it if I’m signing my own books?”

You then realized what aisle you were in. Mystery and Thriller in the K’s. He’d been signing his own books. He hadn’t been defacing anything after all. You were giddy in your relief and smiled at him without thinking.

He was patiently watching you. His dark brown eyes behind his glasses were piercing and seemed to take in every detail as he analyzed your face and expressions. At your smile, his cheeks reddened slightly and he glanced away.

“Yes, that’s okay Dr. Kreizler. That’s wonderful. It’ll be such a nice surprise for buyers. I may have to ask you to sign mine while you’re at it.”

His blush was impossible to hide now and he cleared his throat, his accented voice hesitant. “You know of me? You’ve read my novels?”

You smiled again and gave him a once over. His author photo really didn’t do him justice. “I’ve read all of them multiple times. They’re some of my favorites.”

“Oh… well, it’s nice to meet a fan.” He looked down for a moment before making eye contact again and smiling back hesitantly.

“It’s even nicer to meet you, Dr. Kreizler. Do you do this sort of thing often? Come to bookstores and sign your books?”

“Yes, I have been doing it for years now though I am not often caught.”

“Really? That’s amazing. I’d love to hear more about it and any of your other signing misadventures over coffee. What do you say, Dr. Kreizler?”

“Coffee sounds lovely. On one condition.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“That you call me Laszlo.”

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

A/N: This is the first fic I’ve posted in ages, so I hope you all liked it and please let me know if you did! 

If inspiration strikes, then I might end up writing a sequel to this about their cozy coffee date because I love the idea of drinking a hot beverage and talking about books with Laszlo. 

My Masterlist