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blackleatherjacketz · 2 years

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Work of Art

Baron Helmut Zemo x Original Female Character

Summary: Zemo is interested in how his new partner would look after certain *activities* while Sam and Bucky are out running errands.

Warnings: NSFW! 18+, Explicit Smut, Hand Kink, Eye Contact, Hand/wrist Kissing, Soft Dom Zemo, Zemo Being In Love With Gustav Klimt’s Artwork, Intellect Kink?, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Finger Sucking, Zemo Describing Klimt’s Paintings in Great Detail, Colors

Notes: I had a sex dream about Daniel Bruhl as Zemo last week, and I haven’t known peace since. I had to change a few things for logic reasons, but here it is. Also, this is just as much a love letter to Gustav Klimt as it is to Daniel Bruhl. Enjoy!

WC: 2.1k+

Read more MARVEL stories!

Tags: @bullet-prooflove @skittle479 @genevievedarcygranger

The setting sun of the unfamiliar country shines through the windows and into the living room, casting a rainbow of light through the glass teapot that separates him from her. It expands across the table and onto the floor, stretching beyond where they sit in reds, greens and blues until disappearing just short of the door in a purple haze. He stares at her from behind the plume of steam that rises from the pot, two identical cups filling nearly to the brim as he studies her every move.

“Darjeeling?” He raises his eyebrows with the question, the chestnut hues of his eyes glinting amber in the warm evening light.

“Please,” she nods, scooting forward in her seat to finally enjoy his company without the judgment of her two partners. She hopes she can figure out what it is about him that makes her pulse quicken and her stomach flip every time he gets close to her. Was it his accent? His title? His intellect? Maybe it was a combination of all three. “Thank you,” she nods again.

“Of course. You know, unlike our mutual friends, you strike me as a woman who appreciates the finer things in life.” He starts, setting the pot down before sliding one of the saucers across the coffee table toward her.

“Is that so?” She leans forward to touch the handle of the mug he pushes in front of her, deciding to brush her fingers over his knuckles in the process.

He pauses as she touches him, lips parting and breath stilling as he tilts his head to the side as if to think through his next move. She knows that everything within his grasp holds the potential of turning into a movable piece on the giant chessboard of his life, a game he aims to win at nearly any cost. But she also knows that he was willing to dominate the kings and queens of the board to avenge a lost love, a result of passion and attachment, a sign of weakness. She hopes to use those long, deep stares he’s been giving her these past few days to bind him to her, to distract him long enough to spill some of his secrets and place a crown on her own head.

“I can’t imagine James or Sam would be able to appreciate a good cup of tea or glass of wine the way you and I would.” He keeps his hand beneath hers as he straightens his posture, now looking her in the eye through thick and heavy lashes. “Or a work of art.”

“Art?” She holds his stare in return, continuing to trace the hills and valleys between his fingers as the tiny hairs on the back of his hand stand on end. “I wouldn’t think that you, of all people, would support the arts.”

“On the contrary.” He releases his grip on the mug’s handle and weaves his fingers between hers, deftly stroking her palm with his thumb. “Anything can be a work of art if you choose to see it that way: the fall of an empire, the structure of a building, the curves of your face.”

Her mouth falls open as he continues to caress her skin, a thousand tiny tingling sensations spreading out from their point of origin as he presses into the heel of her hand. He scoffs as a knowing smirk tugs at the corners of his lips and brings her hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss into her palm. “Are you familiar with the works of Gustav Klimt?”

“The Austrian impressionist?” She whispers, wondering where he could be going with this. “The painter?”

“A symbolist, actually.” He encircles her wrist with his opposite hand, his fingertips soft and gentle as they trace the veins that snake their way up the back of her arm. “A common mistake.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” She mutters with the little air she has left in her lungs as he strokes her arm like a trained masseur.

She watches in amazement as he opens his mouth to kiss her palm once more, this time a little deeper, a little longer as his tongue briefly parts his hungry lips. She leans forward as the tingling sensation shoots up her arm and into her chest, extending far beyond the trail his mouth leads as he kisses his way down her wrist. She can almost feel those eyes of his travel up her shoulder, noting the goose flesh racing up her axilla into the pounding pulse of her neck. His glare is nothing short of magnetic, drawing her in like a sailor to a siren as they quickly darken with desire. She isn’t entirely sure now if this seduction plot was a plan of her own, or if he’d merely tricked her into thinking it was her idea to begin with.

Either way, she sees no reason to pull back now.

“Klimt was a genius,” he stands up from his seat on the couch, keeping his fingers clasped in hers as he makes his way around the coffee table, pushing it aside. “He found beauty in nearly everything he saw.” The baron kneels in front of her, pushing the table back even further with his body as he finally settles at her feet.

“The symbolist parts of him were found mainly in his landscapes.” He pulls his hand away from hers, releasing it only to touch the intricate pattern of the dress that barely covers her thighs at this angle. He takes his time tracing the dozens of beaded triangles on the expensive cloth he picked out just for her to wear, hoping she appreciated it. “The concentric circles of trees in the forests, blades of grass in the meadows, the tessellation of leaves,” he elaborates as he smooths his hands down her legs, resting them both gingerly on her knees. “And the flowers in bloom are all different representations of the masculine and feminine.”

His chest expands as he pauses for a moment to take her in, the object of his desire, before exhaling and proceeding with his lesson. He slides his thumbs between her knees and pushes them apart, forcing her skirt to ride even farther up her hips as his lips curl into a smile. “But Klimt’s most famous paintings featured gold leaf and the women in his life.”

She swallows hard as she looks down at him for the very first time, his tall stature always drawing her chin upward to get a better look at him until now. This angle seems to suit him, the fading sunlight catching in his hair as it falls from behind his ear in front of his forehead. She can practically feel her bones shaking in anticipation as he holds her knees in his palms, that confident smirk painted permanently on his lips.

“Klimt knew that a work of art shouldn’t be rushed.” He glances up at her, sliding his hands over the tops of her thighs at an agonizing pace. “That something so beautiful should be studied at length before he would dare put it on canvas.”

She holds her breath as he ignites a fire beneath her skin, spreading her legs as the warmth of his hands ventures up toward her center. She can feel that fire rise up into her belly as his fingers tease the fine hair on her thighs, reaching the hem of her underwear as she finds herself rocking into them, silently urging him to pull that final barrier between them apart.

“He had many lovers, most of whom he painted,” He pulls back the cotton between her legs, sliding his fingers between her moistened lips before gliding them up and down. “Only after bringing them to a state of elation.”

“Yes,” she breathes out as he fondles her, his fingers the most skilled she’s ever felt in her entire life. “I remember that.” She moans as he stokes that heat, spreading her moisture over the length of her sex as he keeps his eyes on her.

“Good.” He increases his pressure on his way up to stimulate her clit as her hips begin to move in tandem with his hand. He grins like the Cheshire Cat, the skin around his eyes wrinkling as he persists in his carnal efforts. “They say his painting of Judith captures her at her most vulnerable state.” He slides his fingers inside of her walls, standing up as he pushes on her bud, rubbing a deep tantric rhythm into her core.

“Oh!” She utters, grabbing onto his shoulder as he continues his ministrations. “Baron!”

His smile widens at the mention of his title, but he only continues his lecture. “Lips flush, cheeks rosy, eyes heavily lidded,” he turns to sit down next to her on the couch, keeping his fingers warm inside as he whispers into her ear. “When I first laid eyes on you, I knew I had to see you like that.”

“Yeah?” She gasps as he lifts her leg over his lap, stretching her muscles as he delves his fingers even deeper inside of her. “Oh!”

“Yes, and you’re almost there, my love.” He curls his fingers upward, grabbing onto the base of her neck with his opposite hand as he sends messages of bliss all the way up her spine and into her brain. “Tell me when you see gold.”

She nods as he speeds up his handiwork, the sound of her slick the only thing she can hear besides her own shallow breaths and the beating of her heart. She can feel him push that final signal up through her, each of them building on top of the last like a line of dominoes bringing her closer to the edge. She looks down as he nearly breaks his wrist trying to please her, knocking down every one of them in succession as if they were laid out in an intricate shape painted by Klimt himself. Dozens of branches split off from her center, spiraling as they fall into her arms, legs and feet before curling in on themselves as her body shakes from the euphoria.

Her orgasm continues to spread through the tips of her fingers and the roots of her hair as she finally turns to look at him. She can feel those golden stems of ecstasy grow and brighten within her, splitting in half, breaking free until they reach every inch of her body through his magic fingers. She cries out as he doubles her pleasure, wrapping her foot around his leg to keep herself steady as her entire body begins to seize in his lap.

He moves his hand from the back of her neck to her jawline, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him as the sun shines one last time through the stained glass windows. Its yellow rays hit his eyes at just the right angle, illuminating the amber of his irises into a vibrant gold as he unravels her completely.

“I see it,” she confesses, now putty in his hands. “I see the gold.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, slowing his rhythm between her legs before planting a kiss onto her cheek. He pulls his thumb off her bud, careful not to get anything on her dress as he slowly drags his fingers up and out of her silky spent sex before bringing them up to his lips. “I knew you would.” He takes his time tasting her, those golden eyes of his rolling back into his head as his lips reach his knuckles.

She shivers as she watches him savor her, this deadly powerful man literally brought to his knees for nothing more than a chance to experience her beauty in person, to sample the fruits of his labor. Part of her now wishes that he could be someone else, someone who isn’t so devious, so wild and unpredictable, but she knows that’s part of what drew her to him in the first place.

He opens his eyes and draws his fingers from his mouth, letting go of her chin and stroking her hair with a newfound sense of adoration. “You look just like her now, a true work of art.”

She lets the echo of her climax shake its way through her, consciously calming her breathing as he combs through her hair, watching his chest rise and fall as a guide for her desired rate. She unhooks her foot from his calf before letting her hand drift down his neck and chest, reaching down between his legs to return the favor.

“Ah!” He stops her, clicking his tongue as he grabs her wrist. “You should rest before they get back. Drink your tea. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

#baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #daniel bruhl #zemo smut #zemo fanfiction #helmut zemo fanfiction #marvel

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inkedobsidian · 7 months

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- MARVEL MASTERLIST -

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

Peter Parker

rewrite the stars (f)

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

Bucky Barnes

jealousy (a)

runaway (a)

smackdown (f)

orchid (a)

Helmut Zemo

cute kids (f)

unexpected (f)

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mlmxreader · 1 year

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Snow Day | Helmut Zemo x m!reader

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

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

tws: swearing, smoking, mentions of violence

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

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

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

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

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

"Mein Bärchen?"

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

"I can see that."

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

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

"And you want to do it again?"

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

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

"Really?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You look so good today."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anything for you.

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

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

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

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

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

"It's a date."

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

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lorna-d-m · 5 months

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Drabbles & Notes

I may not always have time to write, but I have plenty of notes for stories or one shots that I would like to share in the meantime!

Lights Out & Away We Go

Notes: Little Laudas

Bloody Baron & High Seas

Notes: Lucky

Notes: Silver & Gold

Open House & After Hours

Notes: Pot Calling the Kettle Black

Notes: Spoiled

Miscellaneous

Idea: Vampire Zemo

Idea: Western Danny

Idea: Bareback

#daniel brühl #daniel brühl fanfic #daniel brühl fanfiction #niki lauda fanfic #niki lauda fanfiction #helmut zemo fanfic #helmut zemo fanfiction #baron zemo fanfic #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler fanfiction

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morguevampire · 2 years

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(Un) Fortunate Encounters - Masterlist

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

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

***

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

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

chapters: 4/?

pairings: Helmut Zemo x fem!Reader

You can also find this work on Archive of Our Own

***

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

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

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brittercritter · 2 years

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Wear You Like A Helmut: A Helmut Zemo Love Story (Part 2)

I, Helmut Zemo, quite enjoy the afterlife. John "Jonesy" Jones died in battle royale not long after murdering me. We since have become great friends, surprisingly. Well... more than friends. Lovers. My heart belongs to John Jones, and his to me. One thing we truly didn't expect was Megan thee Stallion coming along. She was like a breath of fresh air to our gay relationship. We are now a throuple and could not be happier. We are happier now, dead and in love, than we ever were on Earth. We are bodying the afterlife, eating it up and giving it back. On my mama.

~end~

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therenlover · 10 months

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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!

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo x reader #daniel brühl #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader #daniel bruhl x reader #zemo smut #marvel smut

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junocornkiwi · 11 days

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commission for dearest Lin :3 and her Winterbaron fic ^_^

#my art stuff #art #my stuff #art stuff #digitalart #winterbaron #the falcon and the winter soldier #the winter solider fanfiction #the winter soldier #baron zemo #helmut zemo #bucky x zemo #falcon and the winter soldier #winterbaron au #chef adam jones

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bullet-prooflove · 2 years

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San Franisco: Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

It was raining in San Francisco, Zemo watched the raindrops spatter against the glass as he lay beside you, the crisp white sheets pooling around his hips. The sound was soothing, resounding in his ears before he tilted his head towards you. You were still asleep; he could see the evenness of your breathing as he watched you. This wasn’t him; he wasn’t the type of man to get caught up with emotions, he drew pleasure from mental pursuits, manipulations. It had been a long time since he had participated in physical gratification.

It had been subtle, the way it crept up on him. The brush of fingertips over the back of your hand, the scent of your perfume, delicate notes of jasmine and amber when you leaned in close, the heat that rolled off your skin. He hadn’t expected you to have this effect on him. He understood there was an attraction, he felt the rush of his pulse when you were in his proximity, the way it accelerated. Pheromones, he thought, his physiological response was a logical reaction, but it didn’t prevent him from wondering how you would taste on his tongue.

He had the answer to that now.

Divine, like nectar from the Olympus.

It was exquisite.

His body responding to the memory, another stirring in his groin. His desire for you was wanton, insatiable. Last night had been too hurried, too rushed. He wanted to savour these moments, to drink them down like a fine wine and immerse himself in the complexity of senses.

“My love.” He whispered into the curve of your throat, his lips ghosting over the love marks he’d left across your skin. “Let’s see if I can make you moan my name again.”

Fan of Zemo? Don’t miss any of his stories here by joinng his taglist!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo #zemo #baron zemo #mcu zemo #helmut zemo fanfiction #baron zemo x reader #zemo x reader

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so-far-frogs-and-oscar · 2 years

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Me reading terrible fic on ao3, because I'm desperate for a certain man and I have nothing else left: I'm a survivor. I'm a warrior. I can do this.

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inkedobsidian · 2 years

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~ Cute Kids - H.Z ~

prompt: #24 "The kids, they ambushed me."

summary: After Zemo talks to the kids and gives them candy, Y/N goes out to get some more candy for them. Zemo finds her buried under a pile of hyperactive kids.

pairing: Helmut Zemo! x Reader

warnings: None

word count: 1,029

a/n: Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas!

Master-List - Prompts

Y/N had spent the whole day walking around the small village with Bucky, Sam, and Zemo. The trio didn't really know Zemo's true intentions, only that being with them was better than being in a prison cell. They'd already been through a lot as a group, with everything in Madripoor to then dealing with John Walker professing himself as the new Captain America. Sometimes it became easy to forget the history the whole team had with each other. The distrust still hung in the air but after saving each other's lives multiple times it became easy to trust each other on a primal level.

Y/N and Bucky hung back as Zemo made his way towards the group of kids that had gathered in the small courtyard. Bucky and Y/N shared a quick look of confusion as they watched Zemo emptied the bag of Turkish delights onto the stool and began talking to the kids that had huddled around him. Soon enough Sam had joined the trio watching Zemo.

"What the hell is he doing?" Sam spoke quietly to not disturb any of the vendors around him, who already didn't trust the trio. Y/N and Bucky just shrugged their shoulders. Meanwhile, Zemo was trying to get the kids to trust him enough to tell him where Mama Donya's funeral was being held. Kids were easy to bait into trust, all it took was a nursery rhyme and some candy. He spoke to them in a whisper just in case any of them heard him, he had to keep some leverage.

"You see those two men there? They're a very bad man, not to be trusted." Zemo whispered putting his finger over his lips to signal to keep it a secret. Just as he did the girl leaned to see over his shoulder to where Bucky and Sam were standing and met Y/N's eye line who then raised her hand to give the girl a wave.

"What about her?" The girl whispered. Zemo turned around to see Y/N leaned against the wall next to Bucky with a smile plastered on her face towards them. Zemo returned her smile before turning back to the girl with the smile still on his face.

"She can definitely be trusted," Zemo whispered towards the girl. Afterward, the girl and others scurried off, leaving Zemo to rejoin the group. As he walked up to them he smiled at Y/N before looking back at the men dropping his smile.

"Cute kids." He said continuing to walk past the group to the streets behind them. Y/N couldn't stop thinking about the smile the little girl gave her and how excited they were to see some candy. Y/N decided to break away from the group as they were walking back to the apartment they were staying in. It didn't take long for Y/N to find a small sweet shop next to where the kids were, it also didn't take Zemo long to notice that Y/N had been gone for an alarming amount of time. He used Bucky and Sam having a nap as a cover to sneak out to try and find her, hoping she wasn't in trouble.

Y/N however was already back at the group of kids that she'd seen earlier with the guys. The minute the kids seen her their heads poked up considering Zemo said she could be trusted. Y/N slowed her pace to not spook the kids, and to give them time to say she can approach. The kids nodded and beckoned her over with curiosity. Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor so she was at the kid's height.

"Don't tell anyone, but I have a present for you guys," Y/N says in a hushed voice like it was a secret occasion no one could overhear. The kids all immediately gathered around her sat on the floor just like she was. Once they were all sat in a circle, Y/N turned the bag upside down and let all the candy fall onto the floor. A chorus of oohs erupted from the kids and then it immediately turned into laughter as Y/N scooped the candy and pushed it towards the children. Immediately they all started opening bags and sharing candy while making chit-chat with Y/N the best they could in English.

It took Zemo about 30 minutes to find Y/N and as time continued he got increasingly more worried that something had happened to her, that was until he walked into the same courtyard they'd been in an hour prior, he hadn't even rounded the corner before he heard a chorus of laughing and children trying to teach Y/N their language. Zemo slowly peeked around to see various kids from before piling on top of Y/N giving her hugs in various directions. He stopped his approach and just leaned against the wall watching the chaos with a smile on his face. He thought he hadn't been seen until the girl he spoke to earlier noticed him and ran to him grabbing his hand pulling him towards the group. Once he reached the group he was sat next to Y/N by the girl and she took a seat too.

"The kids, they ambushed me," Y/N whispered in Zemos ear as she leaned in.

Bucky and Sam had a minor panic when they woke up to both Zemo and Y/N missing, so much so that they began sprinting through the streets looking for them until they went to the last location they were all at and see Zemo and Y/N still sat side by side, too close for Sam and Buckys liking. Bucky and Sam decided to stay back and see what was going on, then all of the kids stood up and started holding hands. Y/N and Zemo were dragged to stand up and join in, but then they realized they'd have to hold hands too. They both looked at the kids than each other then slowly held hands and joined in with the game.

That was until the moment got ruined by John Walker and Lemar came bounding into the courtyard and the kids scattered leaving Y/N and Zemo surrounded by candy wrappers… still holding hands.

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo fanfiction #helmut zemo fanfic #helmut zemo imagine #helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader

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mlmxreader · 2 years

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Everything’s Set Up | Helmut Zemo x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: “I got all your favourite horror films ready to go, a couple of blankets, snacks, and uh… well, I’m here, too” With zemo please ?

Hope you have a nice day!

summary: Zemo has everything set up and in order for when you come home at night.

tws: smoking, swearing, horror film mentions

word count: 1001

Working twelve hours at work was harsh, Zemo could see it in your eyes and he could see it in how you often had no interest in anything but kicking your feet up and having a nice cold beer when you got home; he wanted to make you remember a simpler time and to treat you the way that you so deserved, even if it was for just one night. He got everything set up; from a stack of horror film DVDs on the coffee table, from the likes of Cannibal Holocaust through to The Human Centipede and Hostel and even all the way to Anthropophagus and Nekromantic. All the ones he knew that you loved, the ones that he knew you enjoyed more than anything. On top of the horror films, a couple pillows were laid out on the sofa so that it was nice and comfortable for you when you got home, as well as some extra blankets so that you could stay warm as well. He knew which snacks you liked, too, and about an hour before you were about to come home, Zemo had gone up to the local shops - about a ten minute walk there and back - and gotten everything that you could desire; he got stuff that he would need to cook, already in the oven and the grill so that they would be freshly cooked once you had gotten in and settled down. The packeted and tinned snacks, however, were emptied into various bowls and onto different plates, laid out across the table just for you.

Everything was clean, all the laundry folded and ironed and put away, there was nothing for you to worry about when you got home, but the second that you walked through that door, you didn’t even stop to say hello; just trudged on out to the kitchen and lit up a cigarette as you sat up on the counter and sighed heavily.

“Everything alright, Bärchen?” Zemo asked softly as he came around, standing between your legs with his hands on your thighs as he frowned, tilting his head to the side. Dark brown eyes just about glittering with the golden light that hung up on the ceiling.

You smiled, nodding as the tension seemed to just drop from your body, a puff of pale grey smoke leaving your lips as you tilted your head back slightly, exposing your throat to him just a little. “I am so fucking tired, mein Baron, you wouldn’t believe it - I felt like I was about to fall asleep on my feet like a fucking horse.”

He smiled at that, pulling you a little closer so that you could drape your arms over his shoulders, your chin on the top of his head as you closed your eyes for a brief moment; Zemo could feel your breathing, so soft and so gentle and so quiet. Steady. “You can relax now, you’re home.”

“Yeah,” you hummed, letting out a quiet yawn before you took another drag from your cigarette and grumbled, your eyes welling up with tears as you grumbled ever so quietly. “Yeah, no, no, you’re right, I just… I’m sweating and tired and fuck so would you be alright if I go and have a shower?”

“Natürlich,” Zemo whispered, helping you down from the counter and smiling when you put your cigarette between his lips; he didn’t want you to go, not really, but at the same time, he loved to watch you leave and he really was glad that you were at least only tired and that your mood wasn’t soured.

Still, he was more than happy to wait for you, finishing the cigarette and stubbing it out in the ashtray before he dared to head back to where the films and snacks were; he had a feeling that Cannibal Holocaust was probably the best choice, as he knew that that film in particular was one that you often described as a comfort. He opened the case, and carefully put the disc into the DVD player, letting the adverts play until it got to the home menu; he pressed play, and after a couple seconds, he pressed pause before he made his way to the sofa and spread out on it, leaving enough room for you to squirm yourself in how you wanted to.

You paused in the doorway for a moment, cracking a soft smile as you looked around. “You went all out, huh?”

“Uh, yeah,” Zemo laughed softly, coming to stand beside you, his arm immediately going over your shoulders as he cleared his throat, using his free hand to gesture as he explained, “I got all your favourite horror films ready to go, a couple of blankets, snacks, and uh… well, I’m here, too, if you want me to be.”

Gently, you placed your hand at the side of his neck, turning his head so that you could plant the softest of kisses to his lips, smiling ever so softly as you met those lovely dark brown eyes. “Of course I want you to be here - who else am I gonna cuddle into all night, eh?”

“My bad, I didn’t think about that,” he joked softly, guiding you towards the sofa and letting you get comfortable first. “Where would you like me, Bärchen?”

“Preferably under me,” you dared to laugh, getting up so that he could lie down and stretch out on the sofa before you dared to get on top, your head against his chest and one leg dangled over the edge as you hummed ever so softly, able to feel the gentle thud of his heart. “Much better… danke, mein Geliebter.”

“Ist kein problem,” Zemo reached for the remote control, and fumbled with it for a second. “Is Cannibal Holocaust an acceptable place to start?”

“You know me far too well,” you grinned, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “I love you, Helmut, y’know that, right? And, uh, I really appreciate… fucking all of this.”

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

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lorna-d-m · 9 months

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Still Dark Heart Masterlist

Series (upcoming)

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x fem!OC (Matilda "Maude" Metzger)

Summary: A baron harboring a dark secret. A village girl who dreams of adventure. It’s a tale as old as time, but with a twist. Maude seeks shelter in an abandoned castle to find Helmut Zemo: dazzling and puzzling. However, not everything is as it appears. Will love make their hearts beat, or is his heart still?

#daniel brühl fanfic #daniel brühl fanfiction #helmut zemo fanfic #helmut zemo fanfiction #zemo fanfic #baron zemo fanfic #baron zemo fanfiction

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morguevampire · 2 years

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(Un) Fortunate Encounters -Chapter 1

Masterlist for this fic

chapters: 1/?

word count: 1.062k

pairings: Helmut Zemo x fem!Reader

author’s note: Hallöchen und Willkommen zurück! I haven't posted anything in ages but I suppose I am back with quite a challenge for myself: a multi-chapter Zemo fic? I will try my best to actually finish this story and post (semi) regularly - in case people are actually interested. Please excuse the kind of cryptic summary. I have the story more or less planned out but I am quite spontaneous so I might just switch stuff around. Already working on the next two chapters tho :)

As always, English is not my mother tongue so I am happy for any corrections concerning spelling, grammar and general sense-making. Also let me know what you think in general and if you are interested at all in me continuing this work. Thank you and Tschüsseldorf

You can also find this work on https://archiveofourown.org/works/43158162/chapters/108466263

Chapter One: Strangers

It must have been last Tuesday, you recall, while one of the detectives presses play on the security footage that they are showing you. You were storming out of the bank, you somehow managed to block your credit card and you were in a rush since you had to go fix it during your lunch break. God forbid you took an absence from work for stuff like this, your boss was an asshole.

You bumped into a guy on your way out, which you didn’t even fully register but apparently it was the worst thing you could have done because you’re currently sitting in an interrogation room of the fucking FBI because of it. The two detectives not so quietly knocked on your door this morning, all but dragging you out of your apartment – you were seen with a wanted criminal and brought in for questioning, while your apartment was being searched by forensics.

It’s now been almost two hours of “How do you know Baron Helmut Zemo?” and “What did he say to you?”. He apparently escaped prison again and was on the run leaving basically no traces. You told them time and time again that yeah, you knew who he was… from the news… but that you really didn’t recognize him bumping into you and had already forgotten the encounter a minute after it happened, so caught up in your own shitshow of a life. At least after the 10th time of trying to make it clear that you did not KNOW the guy they followed a different strategy in questioning you.

“Please, Miss, close your eyes for us and try to recall the moment. We really need details to get a lead on finding the bastard.”

You did as you were told. It was difficult; the fluorescent lights of the room already giving you a headache and the atmosphere rigid and uncomfortable but you really tried going back to that moment in your mind.

You remembered rushing out of the door of the bank. Not too many people were around. You were looking at your phone, checking the time to see you needed to be back at work in 10 minutes when suddenly you full on pumped into a guy in a dark purple sweater and gray baseball cap. Your phone slipped out of your hand and you remember that he bent down to pick it up at the same time as you. He mumbled a quiet “apologies”. He was quicker to grab your phone, handing it to you with a simple “Are you ok?” while intensely staring at your face, slightly tilting his head. Remembering now you could probably verify he had an accent, but it could have also just been that you now knew that a Sokovian terrorist asked you that question. You mumbled a quick “yeah, yeah no worries” and got up quickly. In your memory the exchange lasted maybe a few seconds but seeing it on the security footage it seemed to take ages until you were on your feet again heading away from the man. He even turned around to watch you storm off and quickly disappeared himself.

You could kind of understand why the FBI was suspicious about the encounter but you really did not have any useful information. Eventually, in combination with the lack of evidence in your apartment, they recognized you were a dead end and let you leave, simply warning you to stay in the country and to tell them should you remember anything useful.

************************

Once you got home you collapsed on your couch. The apartment felt strange, knowing just mere hours ago a team of men in white suits basically took it apart, looking for any kind of evidence that tied you to the man that bombed the UN.

You let out a big sigh that turned into a grunt and rubbed your eyes. You were exhausted and pissed off and maybe also a little bit scared. You couldn’t shake the feeling off that this wasn’t a simple accidental running into some stranger. This man was a mastermind. A villain. He had the brains to take out the avengers and yet he makes the mistake of bumping into some random woman all while getting caught on a security camera. What was he even doing at the bank?

Thoughts kept circling around in your head and what’s the thing a mindful, responsible adult with a good coping mechanism does in that situation? Pour a glass of wine and do some research on google. At least it was Friday night, so you had the whole weekend to come up with weird conclusions and maybe take one or the other semi-drunk nap. You opened your browser and in a Bella from Twilight kind of way simply googled “Helmut Zemo”. Random articles popped up, some pictures of him during his arrest and as with any brutal criminal there was of course a whole community of people romanticizing him. You looked down on his “fans” for justifying his actions but did you blame them for finding Helmut Zemo attractive – not really. You had to recall how he looked at your face while picking up your phone, brown eyes staring intensely into your own while a deep, quiet voice asked you if you were ok. And that’s when you shut your laptop and slumped back in your seat, groaning once again because what the fuck. Were you really that desperate and deprived of attention from the male species that you would let your thoughts go into that direction. No. It was time for bed, even if that just meant staring at the ceiling for however long it took exhaustion to overpower your restless mind.

The next morning you couldn’t really remember how you got into your pajamas or whether you brushed your teeth but your mind was still full of images of him. Coffee should help, you figured. You stared absently at your little Italian moka pot, contemplating the day’s activities when a loud crash suddenly erupted. Almost as if somebody just smashed down your front door. You startled, froze on the spot and became extremely scared. Was it the FBI again? Have they found something after all? Something that you weren’t even aware of? You were just about to turn around when something heavy hit the back of your head.

And everything went back.

#Helmut Zemo #Helmut Zemo x Reader #Helmut Zemo & Reader #Helmut Zemo fanfiction #MCU #Helmut Zemo x you #Baron Zemo #Baron Zemo x reader #TFAWS

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mjolnirswriststrap · 3 months

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Silver Bullet

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Helmut Zemo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,670 Masterlist

Summary: The best night of the year, Halloween, turns into a night you just want to forget. PART 1/4.

Warnings: werewolves, cheating, backstabbing best friend, Zemo is a whore, truly.

Red cloaks filled the crowd. This years Halloween parade theme being Dracula. Rob Zombie blared through speakers anchored to lampposts. You and your friends all wore matching costumes, collectively going as the wives of Dracula. It was a good excuse to wear the hottest outfits you could find. Most people paled their skin with white face paint, and molded little pieces of wax to their teeth.

Not you, you wore basically nothing for your costume. Each friend had a different color of fabric, that was loosely draped and cinched around your body. The best way to describe it would be a Greek toga, instead of linen it’s sheer silk, leaving nothing to the imagination. You all wore the same gold collar, a dragon etched on the front; curtesy of the blue bride, Miranda’s, 3D printer.

You didn’t plan on staying, you all agreed to be a part of the parade, once that was over, you were all headed to Zemo’s annual Halloween masquerade. You don’t think he particularly liked having hundreds of people flooding his property every year. But having the biggest house in town was a blessing and a curse. He hosted most festivities for your rather large population of teens and young adults.

You had a fascination with the bachelor. He inherited the mansion, land and money from his grandfather, skipping over his father completely. His family was prominent in the community, both of his parents having a chair at city hall. They volunteered at the food bank and donated to every shelter. Any sane person would think they deserved the money in a way. So why Zemo?

You made it to the party late, everyone leaving the house for the back yard. Zemo had the trees lighted and a dance floor built, always prepared for a celebration. Your friends ditched you as soon as you all got drinks, saying they were going to find their boyfriends. Leaving you to explore the surrounding woods alone.

You nearly drop your red solo cup when you see Zemo pressing Miranda against a tree, practically swallowing each others faces. Tears of betrayal sting your cheeks. She knew you had a crush on him, and she has a boyfriend anyways. You stalk away in anger, losing the trail but not caring. You found a tree far enough from the party that no one would hear your sobs.

You downed the cup filled halfway with vodka, a drop of orange juice for flavor. It dried your tears quickly, leaving your whole body warm. “Stupid.” You say, standing up and brushing the leaves off your dress. “Stupid for liking Zemo.”. You agreed whole heartedly with that. “Stupid for thinking Miranda was my friend.” That’s what hurt the most.

In the midst of your self hate you failed to notice a looming figure. “You’re not stupid.” You jolt, throwing the plastic cup in the direction of the stranger. “Sorry, you scared me.” You giggle, when you see it’s just a guy from the party wearing a phantom of the opera mask.

“It’s okay.” He reaches down and picks up the liter. “Gotta keep our forests clean.” He waves the red in the air. You give him a dry laugh. Men are scary and being alone in the woods with a stranger was causing every alarm in your brain to siren. But the vodka numbed your sense of fear.

“I should get going.” You say, turning and trying to step around the tree. Before you could, the stranger steps closer. “Should you?” He says deeply. He’s close enough now that you can see his piercing blue eyes behind the mask. They render you speechless, the way the moonlight shone off them, put you in a trance. You shake your head, too focused to verbally answer him.

“See, you’re not so stupid after all.” He teases. You have no reaction. His words didn’t fill you with pride or embarrassment. Your veins filled with the distinct warmth of feeling safe. You don’t know where it came from, your body was irrationally reacting to him. You should be shaking with fear and trying to get back to the party, not calmly standing here waiting for something to happen.

It felt like you were locked inside a body that wasn’t yours. It was being controlled by some outside force. You let him reach for you, never flinching away. Your body produced goosebumps where his fingertips grazed your skin. “You’re so beautiful. I’d hate to ruin that.” You nod your head, not even thinking of a single way he could ruin your beauty. Your mind was blank, you couldn’t even say thank you.

“Promise me you won’t resist, once it happens.” You knew nothing of what he spoke, but again you feel your neck bow to him, nodding in agreement. The masked man looks up at the moon, reveling in its fullness. “Are you prepared for no return?” You agree with a nod, now you know you were fully possessed by something. His words should send you running, but a small voice in the back of your head says you would never.

He steps closer again, grabbing fistfuls of your gown, cinched at your waist. “You have to say it. Say I have permission.” His voice was desperate and darker than before. You try to find the words but the influence he had on you was slowly fading, the way he started pressing you against the tree brought you back to your senses. He holds your hips in place as he nuzzles his face into your neck, taking a long deep breath.

The stubble on his chin tickled you and you had to remind yourself yet again that this is a masked stranger in the woods. Even though your senses were coming back, the way his hands lit a fire inside of you was enough to make you not care. That fire pooled lower and lower the closer he got to you. He smelled like a mix of musk and pine. You couldn’t tell if it was him or the trees surrounding you. But it made your mouth water, filling you with a want to taste his skin, just to be sure.

He raises his hand to cradle your cheek, “Please.”. He caught your eyes again, boring into them with an assured look. He focuses on your lips “Just say the words.”.

“I give you permission.” You say them without thinking of the consequences. He sealed your fate by closing the gap between your faces. Pressing his lips to yours. You moved your lips in sync with his, using your free will to wrap your arms around his neck. Before it could go any further the man disappeared. You felt him pull away, when your eyes opened to see why, he was already gone. You searched the surrounding woods with your eyes, there was no sign of him.

You grab your head, wondering if you drunkenly hallucinated. The moisture on your mouth and in your underwear was foolproof evidence that it really just happened. But you still began to question its validity.

You hear a twig snap somewhere near you, in hopes that it was the magnetic stranger you followed it, rounding an old fallen tree you spot a black dog. It was rather large in stature, must be a purebred if it’s that big. You knew an expensive dog wouldn’t be wandering the woods collarless. And you couldn’t remember if Zemo ever mentioned having any pets.

You stepped closer, never fearing animals. You loved dogs, you had a few of your own at your parents house. “Here boy.” You kneel down, reaching out your hand. It finally gives you its attention. Immediately showing his sharp canines, snarling loudly. “Oop.” You stand up and slowly back away, knowing the signs of an agitated dog.

When your view of it is blocked by the tree you turn around and sprint away. Not wanting to receive a rabies shot on Halloween night. You see the lighted trees nearing. That’s when you heard it, rhythmic thumbing coming from behind you. When you turn around you let out a scream, the dog is already pouncing on you, knocking you to the ground. You tray to scramble away. You see people’s feet running towards your screams.

The dog latches its mouth onto your leg, when you try to rip it away it only sinks its teeth deeper. You see Zemo come to your aid with a pool cleaner net, swinging it at the dog. “Get away.” He shouts, he ends up cracking the dog on top of his head with the plastic pole. It yelped, causing your leg to fall out of his mouth. He ran for cover, disappearing into the woods. Zemo drops to his knees beside you, shedding his jacket to wrap it around your bleeding leg.

“Are you okay?” Your eyes full with tears, embarrassment was an understatement. You didn’t want to face Zemo or Miranda. You didn’t want to see all the party goers pity filled faces either. You stood up, sucking a breath between your teeth at the pain. You limped past everyone giving eachother confused glances. Ignoring Zemo and Miranda’s fake concern.

You called your dad, sitting on the curb infront of the house. He rushed you to urgent care, spending the rest of the night with you in the waiting room. You were fine in the morning, a shot and a round of antibiotics set you on your way to recovering. You took ibuprofen for the pain. You called off of work for the rest of the week, needing to stay off your feet.

When you returned the next Monday, your boss told you there was a new bus boy. You waited tables all day before you finally saw him. Clocking in and disappearing to wash dishes. He was cute, dark brown hair and light stubble. He didn’t introduce himself to you or Mary, the other waitress, odd. But you had a feeling the little diner would grow on him eventually.

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