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blackleatherjacketz · 2 years ago

Text

Point of No Return

Baron Helmut Zemo x Original Female Character

Summary: While preparing for a mission where she has to seduce their target, Zemo convinces her to show him how she plans on doing it.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Daniel Bruhl’s Magnetic Essence, Dubious Consent, Manipulation, Sugar Daddy Undertones, Soft Dom Zemo, Roleplay, Oral Sex (Male and Female Receiving), Vaginal Sex, Lingerie, Dresses, Tuxedos, Kissing, Face Holding, Teasing, Hair Pulling, Zemo’s Hands, Eye Contact, Classical Music References, Zemo Possibly Catching Feelings

Word Count: 3.7K

Tags: Thank you to @bullet-prooflove for helping me concoct this universe! @letsby @imadeadpoett @mrsmaxwelllord @genevievedarcygranger

Read more MARVEL stories!

“How does it fit?” He doesn’t bother to look at her as she walks into his room wearing the gown he had made especially for her, one he was certain would fit every curve and angle of her body. He takes care to glance over just as she looks away, pretending not to notice how the vibrant color of the cloth complements the olive tones in her skin, accented only by the raven locks that cascade down her shoulders.

“Well enough, I guess.” She lifts her arms up, defeated by the fact that her chromosomes drew her the short straw in the group tonight.

She had dressed up a handful of times before; weddings, parties and funerals all placing her in dresses of varying lengths throughout her lifetime, but none of them were quite like this. None of them had clung so tightly to her skin, restricted her movement or made her feel so incredibly vulnerable that she questioned her ability to carry out her skill set in the presence of her colleagues… and him.

The baron looks up at her as she slowly turns around in front of him, noticing that the zipper on the back of her dress is still only halfway up. “You’re not zipped all the way.”

“What?” She turns to each side to get a better view of the back of her dress, bending her arms backward in a failed attempt to get a grip on the elusive zipper, splaying her fingers out across the fabric.

“Here,” he presses his lips together and walks toward her, motioning for her to turn around, “Allow me.”

She walks over to the full sized mirror to get a better look at herself, making an effort to grab hold of her dress as if to show him that she can do it herself. She’ll be damned if she actually needs a man to help her to get into this thing, even if he is the one who paid for it. And the flat they’re currently staying in. And their mode of transportation. And all their meals. And everything else.

Damnit.

She huffs before letting go of the silky cloth, reluctantly letting him take his place behind her. Although she had thought about it a few times before, she had never let the baron get this close to her, heeding her partners’ warnings of his hidden agendas and dual nature. Even with the heels she has on he still towers over her, the top of her head barely meeting his eyeline as they both look straight forward into the mirror. It’s almost as if they’re posing for a formal portrait, a snapshot of this moment in time portraying them as an opulent couple who had been together for years, his hand finding a sudden familiarity on her lower back.

“It suits you,” he whispers into her ear, tracing his way down her shoulder blade with his opposite hand.

“Does it?” She keeps her eyes on their reflection in the mirror, hoping that her makeup is heavy enough to hide the flushing of her cheeks as his fingers send a shiver down her spine. She’s supposed to be getting into character, one who is single and ready to mingle with their target long enough for Sam and Bucky to get the information they need; not one who can’t get over the intoxicating scent of her benefactor’s cologne.

“You don’t think so?” He takes his time feathering his fingertips over her silken strap as it curves its way into the unfastened bodice. He follows it down the inner arch of her back, noticing the absence of black lace or any other delicate fabric underneath. “You’re not wearing the lingerie I set out for you.”

“It was too bulky, didn’t look right.” She pauses as he excites the skin on her lower back, sparking a hint of heat into her core. “It’s just been a while since I’ve worn a dress, is all,” she starts to explain herself, feeling his breath warm against her hairline as his lips brush the shell of her ear.

Good God, why does he have to be so fucking handsome?

“You should wear them more often.” He reaches the tiny metal zipper at the base of her spine and slowly pulls it upward before laying it down flush against the material of her bodice. “You’re a vision in red, but every piece of your costume serves a purpose, tells a part of the story.” He takes a breath, pausing before continuing on, “You’re going to have to do more than just look the part tonight.”

“I know that,” she says, more to herself than to him as she watches his hand smooth its way over her hip in the mirror. She holds her breath as he guides it up her belly, inhaling as it curves over her breast and touches the bare skin on her chest.

“Do you?” He reaches her chin with the pads of his fingers, turning her face away from the mirror. “You’re going to have to distract him.” He tilts her chin up so that she has no other choice but to look into the dark caramel of his eyes. “You’re going to have to seduce him.”

“I can do that.” Her sentence wavers as it leaves her lips, a pathetic whisper of a promise as he drags his fingers off of her face.

“Can you?” He lets go of her completely, taking a step back before turning on his heel. “Sam seems to have a lot of confidence in your abilities, but I have my doubts.”

“Really?” She watches him walk away from her, his musk still lingering on her skin as he casually makes his way over to the vanity. “Is that why you can’t stop touching me?” She does her best to sound level headed as she challenges him, her body already yearning for his touch. “Your doubts?”

“My attraction to you isn’t in question here.” He states the obvious so matter-of-factly that it takes her by surprise, keeping any rebuttal she may have prepared still in her throat. “Your ability to stand out from the dozens of other European socialites is. And we want him… need him to do more than just touch you.”

“I can’t apologize enough for being an American,” she puts her hands on her hips, still flustered by his flippancy, “But I can do a British accent if you want.”

“No.” He puts a hand up to stop her before letting it fall to his side. “I want you to be as believable as possible.”

“Okay, then I just won’t talk as much.” She takes a deep breath. “That usually works on men of any social class, they all love the sound of their own voice.”

“Is that so?” He scoffs, leaning his back against the vanity. “If you’re so confident in your skills, then why don’t you show me what you plan on doing.”

Her heart nearly stops as it’s beating, its last contraction a loud and heavy thump in her chest as she swallows the lump in her throat. If he wanted her so badly, then why didn’t he just keep touching her? Why didn’t he take the chance to kiss her when his lips were so close to her mouth only moments ago? Why pull away at all? Maybe he is just as manipulative as Sam had warned her about.

“Excuse me?” She checks, her eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hairline as his lips curl into a smirk.

He can’t be serious, can he?

He merely nods with a sound confidence that only the baron of Sokovia could have. “I’d like to see how you’re going to keep his attention. The lives of dozens of people depend on it.”

“Well,” she starts, eager to play his game. They have a few hours to kill before the party starts, and she can’t think of any better way to fill each passing minute than to get his hands back on her body. “I’ll walk by him and… I’ll give him the look.” She’s never really had to think through what she’s done in the past to get a man’s attention. It always just seemed to happen to her without her really trying.

“The look?” He stands up straight, tilting his head to get a better grasp of the idea.

“You know…” she turns to the side and glances at him, lashes batting with feigned desire. “The look.”

“And?”

“And?” She laughs, exacerbated. “And I’ll look away then wait for him to approach me.” She looks up to see an unamused look on his face, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I’ll laugh at his jokes, touch his arm, touch my neck, things like that.”

“And if he doesn’t have any jokes for you to laugh at? What then?” He raises his eyebrows scoldingly, his tone dripping with acid. “Julian isn’t nearly as kind or as generous as I am, and it’s imperative that you distract him tonight. We can’t count solely on the luck you’ve had with men in the past.”

“What makes you think I’ve had any luck in the past?” She decides to commit to the bit wholeheartedly now, wondering what it will take to bring that sensual side of the baron back out to play. She steps toward him in her heels, careful not to make too much noise in them as she corners him against the dresser.

“Women like you usually haven’t had to seduce anyone before.” He inhales as she gets closer, pressing his back against the vanity as the different colored liquids sway to and fro inside their delicate glass bottles.

“Women like me?” She smiles and touches the hem of his waistcoat, a timeless piece he undoubtedly kept in storage from a lifetime ago. “What do you know about women like me?” She slides her fingers up his chest, following the design of his tuxedo to the fastened collar of his dress shirt.

“I know enough.” His words barely blow a few stray strands of hair away from her face, their tone shaking just a little at the end.

“Really?” She stands up even higher on her tiptoes, the bottom of her heels leaving the ground as she smoothes her hand beneath his tuxedo jacket. “You seem so confident in your skills.” She uses his own line against him, whispering her taunt against his ear as she slides her hand up the base of his neck. “But your years behind bars would prove that you’re a little out of practice.” She smiles against his skin as his palms warm her waist.

“One would venture to say that it’s as easy as pedaling a bicycle.” His fingers find the zipper they spent so much time and effort pulling up just moments before, holding it delicately between his thumb and forefinger. “A muscle memory, if you will.” He tugs it slowly down her backside, loosening her bodice along with the straps around her shoulders.

“Well, I’ve always heard that practice makes perfect.” She presses her fingers into his hairline, forcing him to look down at her as she brings her other hand up to mirror its movements. She can smell his cologne even deeper at this proximity, his raging pulse enriching the notes of cedar wood and patchouli into her nostrils as she massages his scalp. It’s different than anything else she’s ever smelled before, a perfect signature scent for a man unlike anyone else she’s ever met before.

She continues to card her fingers through his hair as she gazes upon him, the chestnut hues in his irises making way for expanding pupils as they dart nervously over her features. She can feel his chest as it rises against hers, expanding with each prolonged inhalation as his heart beats wildly inside. He must be just as rapt as she is with the scent he dabbed onto her wrists earlier, a rich floral perfume with a hint of orange that is ‘fit for a queen’, if she remembers his words correctly. She presses her thumbs into his temples before sliding them down his cheeks to hold his face merely millimeters away from her own.

“Don’t you want to be perfect?” She parts her lips and feathers them over his, teasing the idea of a kiss that’s only just out of reach.

“More than anything.” He nods as he takes her in, his body giving him away as his nose gently nudges into hers. He opens his mouth and kisses her, tasting the savory combination of her lips and tongue as he slides his hands up the muscles of her exposed back. He pulls her in close, finally exhaling into her as he lets his guard down for the very first time in over a decade. He wants to relish every inch of her, to memorize how she feels as she trembles against him, but he must stay on track.

“Remove my jacket,” he tells her, smoothing his palms across her neck and shoulders before letting his arms fall to his side.

She nods and presses her hands over his chest, sliding her fingers beneath the thick black fabric of his coat. She takes her time sliding it off of his arms, carefully folding it in half before draping it over the back of the chair next to the bed.

“Now my tie.” His words are cold against the warmth of her cheek as she unfastens his off-white bow tie. “You’re doing well, darling, but I’m going to need you to look up at me with those eyes while you undress me.” He lifts her chin with a curled finger beneath it, holding himself back from tugging on her bottom lip with his thumb. “Let him know how badly you want it.” He tries to circle back to his original plan by taking his own needs and desires out of the situation, but it’s obvious that he’s already dipped his toe into the shoreline of the point of no return.

“Okay.” She finishes pulling his tie out of his collar, the fancy bow now reduced to a single flat piece of cloth as she makes quick work of unbuttoning his vest and shirt between intentional stolen glances.

With his clothes off he’s absolutely beautiful, his broad chest and trim figure nothing how she imagined it would be, but somehow that much more alluring to her. Dark hair scatters its way across his chest, mixing in with a constellation of moles down his belly and into his pants that seem to be growing tighter in between his thighs, proving the effectiveness of her skills.

“Now get out of that dress and onto the bed.” His order ties a knot into her stomach, the authoritative tone of his voice pulling on her muscles as his callous words do more for her libido than she cares to admit. She should probably unpack the origin of that gut reaction when she gets a chance, but there’s a time and place for all of that.

She turns around and unzips the rest of her gown, casually sliding it off her shoulders with ease as she steps out of her heels. She takes a moment to look back at him with her practiced stare, catching him with a hungry look in his eye as she follows his instructions. She only smirks before looking away again, stepping out of the gown and over to the king sized bed in her bare feet. She hears him undress his bottom half on his own, the sound of him undoing his belt buckle and pants zipper echoing loudly in this tiny little bedroom as she climbs up onto the freshly made bed.

She takes her time turning over onto her back, spreading her legs in full display as he finally approaches her, now just as naked as she is. All of the sudden he isn’t this manipulative mastermind who lied, cheated and killed his way to revenge. He isn’t an escaped felon, a criminal or an enemy of the state. He isn’t even a baron, her benefactor, or the one hope to get the information she needs for this mission.

He’s just a man.

She sits up and reaches out to him, wrapping her fingers around his wrist before bringing his hand to her breast. She waits for him to squeeze it before looking up at him just like he’s told her to, letting her eyes fill up with desire as he grows right in front of her face. “Still doubting my skills, Baron?” She chides, opening her mouth to lick his tip.

“No.” He takes a deep breath as she tastes him, slowly taking more of him into her mouth as her perfect lips wrap around his cock. “Not at all.” He runs his other hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear as she opens the back of her throat to take him in completely. He lets his eyelids fall down as her lips reach his pelvis, tugging on her hair so that her tongue encases his shaft as she sucks her way back up. He guides her back down again, repeating the motion over and over as he nearly gets lost in how good her mouth feels as it glides over his throbbing member. He can’t get over how the warmth of her lips and the sensation of her tongue are far superior than that of his hand slick with spit in the cool recesses of his prison cell.

He also can’t get over the fact that he’s actually here, a conditionally free man who gets to enjoy a woman so utterly gorgeous as she does nearly anything that he asks…. a real, tangible woman. She looks so beautiful like this, eyes wide as she nearly chokes on his girth, saliva dripping down the corners of her mouth. He could finish like this in a matter of minutes if he wanted to, his hand in her hair as she swallows his release; leaving Sam and James none the wiser to their current activities, but he wants something more. He wants to know what she feels like from the inside, how the warmth of her cunt compares to the warmth of her mouth as her features contort with the pleasure he’s so ready to give her.

He pulls her off of him and loosens his grip on her hair, smoothing it out as he memorizes every curve of her face before leaning down to kiss her. He can feel himself walking straight into the depth of his desires, subconsciously crossing that line between motivation and need, between restraint and reckless abandon. At this point he doesn’t care what they’re supposed to be doing or how he’s supposed to be acting, all he can bring himself to care about is how he can taste himself on her lips as he presses his knees into the mattress.

He pushes her onto her back and climbs on top of her, kissing his way up her legs before tasting the moisture between her thighs, savoring the delicacy of her tangy flavor with muffled moans. He feels her fingers weave their way into his hair as she writhes beneath him, groaning as he laps her up until those groans increase in pitch, climbing up the octave scale one note at a time. It’s as if she’s singing her very own aria, telling the story of her pleasure to the centuries-old walls as he greedily dines on her flesh.

He grabs onto her wrists as the twitching of her hips becomes more sporadic, holding them down at her sides as that inner music moves its way through her. It steals her breath, turning that consistent vibrato in her lungs to a stifled staccato as her flavor grows sweeter beneath his tongue. It’s the most divine thing he’s ever heard in his life, each note sticking out in his memory forever as he kisses his way up her pelvis and chest, trying his best not to suck a few bruises into the delicate skin of her neck.

He releases his grip on her wrists, lifting her thighs around his waist as she nods for him to continue, pushing that staccato deep inside of her. He watches her mouth fall open as he stretches her out, leaning down to kiss her lips as he takes his turn adding his own groans to their proper duet. He takes advantage of the freedom of these walls, moaning into her as she envelops him with her velvety warmth, bringing him even closer to the brink.

He grabs onto her jaw as he rocks into her, gradually picking up the pace as their hearts provide the drum beat to their chaotic song of groans and grunts. He can’t help but bury his face in her shoulder to soften his fervor, tasting the salt of her skin as she reaches another octave while he pushes inside at a brand new angle.

“You feel so good,” she barely whispers, crossing her legs behind his back to keep him there. “Oh my God, Zemo!” She wraps her arms around his back in a similar fashion, pulling him in even closer as their steady collection of notes build upon each other, one right after the other with each rhythmic thrust of his hips until they both reach the height of their crescendo.

He cries out against her shoulder as the pleasure washes over him, releasing his bliss inside her walls in irregular spurts as he merges his body with hers, both of them vibrating in rhythm together. He kisses his way up her neck and jawline, still holding her face in his hand as he kisses her lips and cheeks. He pulls back, opening his mouth as if to say something mean or witty, to reinstate the power dynamics of their relationship, but the ecstasy wreaking havoc on his nervous system won’t let that happen. Instead he only kisses her again, soft and gentle as he rests his forehead against hers while he allows himself to forget everything that’s happened except for this very moment. He allows himself another scene of romance after their passionate duet, knowing full well that it can only last as long as it takes for the curtain to fall and the next act to begin.

#baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #daniel brühl #Helmut Zemo #Helmut Zemo Fan Fiction #Daniel bruhl #the falcon and the winter soldier

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andsheloved · 3 years ago

Note

here's another prompt for drabble tuesday if you'd like! featuring forced proximity!! with either zemo (because i've fallen hard for him) or bucky? could be a simple locked in the closet deal, or maybe a mission gone wrong and they're stuck in close quarters until a rescue team is dispatched? it's only then that he realizes how much he's fallen for reader and tries to hide it; with feigned confidence for zemo or gruff grumpiness for bucky :)

okay since i absolutely love enabling new loves for The Men, i had to go with zemo for this one!! (but don't worry, a bucky drabble is happening as well today!!) i just had to do my part in hopefully, enhancing, your love for zemo, so i hope you enjoy this one!! i know this turned into more of a reader's pov, but i do hope you enjoy it nonetheless!! mwauh!!

pairing ~ helmut zemo x gn!reader

word count ~ 1.4k

warnings ~ fluff and awkwardness, reader is very flustered about zemo, zemo is a Cocky Man who is secretly a sap, mention of anxiety on the reader's part but nothing very specific, madeline needs to write shorter drabbles

prompt ~ trope #11: forced proximity

Click

The two of you paused instantly at the sound, both turning quickly to face the door that had now apparently been locked behind you.

You shot a hand out, grasping the door handle desperately as you pushed and pulled with as much force as you could muster, a concerned hum rumbling in your chest when the door still didn't budge.

"Allow me..." Zemo purred, the fur collar of his coat almost brushing against your cheek as he awkwardly shifted between you and the wall.

He placed his gloved hands on the door handle, noisily jostling it for a few moments before huffing. "I believe..." He sighed in defeat as his hands fell to his sides, "It is locked."

You let out a soft chuckle at his words, "I think so" You smiled as he tilted his head at you, Sam was right, he did do that a lot. "So, what's the plan?" You added. You knew you were supposed to be keeping an eye on him, you really were never even a field agent when Sam had first gotten to know you, and you definitely knew that allowing the man you were supposed to keeping under control to create a plan for escape from this room was probably not the best idea, but you really didn't mean to get locked in this small storage space in the first place, so what was another off course decision?

"My plan?" He scoffed, and the sudden sound finally allowed you to realize how close you two actually had become, his chest almost entirely pressed against yours. "I would have believed you'd know better than to allow me to come up with a plan"

The cramped quarters did nothing to conceal how your breath hitched at the crooked smirk that appeared on his features. You swallowed, trying to compose yourself and definitely not get lost in the warmth of his amber hued stare. "I mean, Sam's told me all about you, you seem pretty good at plotting." You laughed again, and just as before, his head cocked to the side as you did, his eyes narrowed, almost as if he were analyzing you, not that it would surprise you if he was.

He continued to hold your gaze, even as he lifted on of his hands towards you, his fingers nearly tracing along your side before landing on the small, black box that you had entirely forgotten was fastened to your belt. You hastily turned to look at it when you heard the soft 'beep' sound that it made once he pressed the small button on it's top.

"Oh..." You timidly replied, almost wincing at your own forgetfulness of the tracker Sharon had made sure to remind you all about before splitting up.

"That. Is my plan" He replied, his eyebrow raising, a self-satisfied smile growing on his lips.

"So, now what do we do?" If you weren't so close to him, maybe you would curl into a ball and wonder when you had forgotten how to speak to people.

"We wait" He sighed, shifting slightly closer to the door before sliding his back against the wall until he finally sat on the ground, his knees pressing almost completely against his chest in the small space.

"Don't get too excited" You quipped facetiously, mirroring his own actions as you slid down the wall opposite, making sure to shift slightly to your right as to not get tangled in his limbs.

A quiet, 'humph' escaped his lips at first before he responded, "I'll do my best" he hummed, "I've been in worse company"

You couldn't help but feel the slightest twinge of disappointment at his words, and you silently cursed yourself for allowing your facial expressions to be so open, or maybe they weren't, over your few months of knowing him, you had realized how easily he was able to pick up on your emotions. Even the slightest changes in the turn of your lips, or the smallest wrinkle in the space between your eyebrows, he was frighteningly attuned to how you were feeling most of the time. Or maybe not so frighteningly. As much as it confused you to admit, it felt nice to have someone who read you so easily, to have someone that could understand you just from looking at your features.

"I didn't- I- Not that you're bad company" He sputtered, a touch of pink crawling onto his cheeks as he clarified himself.

Was he getting flustered?

"I quite enjoy your company..." He added shyly, clearing his throat as he finally composed himself.

You had never expected to enjoy the company of a war criminal so much, but things felt so easy around him. You loved both Sam and Bucky, but sometimes, it was a little hard to simply just exist around them. When you wanted to laugh at their banter and poke fun at old memories, you knew they would always be there, and you were grateful for that, though, on nights when the chaos of the outside world seemed to seep into every corner of your mind, you found yourself gravitating to the gentle aura of the man now sitting across from you.

Some nights you would chat, talking about everything from your favorite tea's to your lives before you even knew of the existence of SHIELD.

He made it feel so easy to just, be, in a world that already had asked so much of the both of you.

You needed easy.

You loved easy.

Easy was different, much, much, more different compared to what your day to day had become, running around with a former-assassin-super-solider and a man with bionic wings.

But you liked it.

Maybe more than liked it.

And in moments when his stare lingered on you for a second longer than what was usual, when his fingers ghosted against yours as he handed you a comforting cup of his cherry blossom tea, you let your mind wander.

Maybe he liked it too.

"So you memorized 'The Little Mermaid'?" You giggled, trying to catch your breath after almost choking on the mental image of the man who originally disbanded the Avengers singing Disney soundtracks.

"I locked myself away for days schatz, the television was the only thing I had to entertain myself"

"And how old were you?"

"12..." He mumbled, a bashful blush crawling from his neck and onto his cheeks as he spoke.

You wondered when the small space had grown so hot, but as Zemo adjusted his coat to wrap around him more, you began to speculate if maybe it was just you.

Suddenly, the both of you turned towards the black tracker on your belt as the soft beeping became increasingly louder and more frequent. You sighed, a wave of displeasure washing over you at the notion that your uninterrupted time together was drawing to a close.

You groaned as you finally stood, your bones creaking and moaning with you as you adjusted to the abrupt change in position. You smiled, "This has been fun" You almost whispered, throwing your arms above your head as you stretched.

"It has..." He sighed, you could have almost sworn a flash of melancholy crossed his features as he stood with you.

Instead of a knock at the door, or the squeaking of some tool picking at the lock from the outside, you heard nothing. Not even a soft murmur of teasing from Sam could be heard from beyond the door, only a single 'pop', followed by the hushed, screeching, creaking sound of the door opening.

You could have kicked through the door, you could have thrown it open with all the force you had and ran, but you didn't, you both just waited for any sign of life from the other side, some sort of taunting from someone on the other side about your situation, but still, nothing came.

You tossed around the idea of if Zemo had done this all on purpose, if he had some secret control to the door and he had planned this all along, opening the door only when he grew tired of your conversation.

If he did, you thought, you didn't think you'd mind all that much.

You watched as his hand finally reached out toward the silver handle almost reluctantly, and your brow furrowed as you suddenly noticed an undeniably mischievous glint appear in his gaze.

"But- We can go now?" You questioned, your eyes flickering to his hand as he quietly closed the door in front of you, the dreadful click once again echoing around you.

"We can." He replied, a crooked smile growing on his features, "But they seem to be doing well without us" He slid down the wall once again, softly grunting as he made himself comfortable in the cramped corner. "It wouldn't hurt to leave them for a few more hours, yes?"

oh to be trapped in a closet with zemo for hours :'), i hope i did your request a bit of justice my friend!! or at the very least enabled your newfound love of zemo a bit more!! mwauh!! i hope you're doing so well!! as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!!

want more zemo? check out my masterlist!

join in on drabble tuesday!

#madeline's drabble tuesdays!#helmut zemo fluff #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #zemo fluff #zemo x reader #zemo x gender neutral reader #zemo x gn!reader #zemo x y/n #zemo x you #helmut zemo comfort #daniel bruhl fan fiction #zemo x reader fluff

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loveofafangirl · 3 years ago

Text

A New Dawn

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader (no gender, race, body type given)

Synopsis: You wake up to a new day in the arms of Zemo (what could be better). *Domestic Fluff*

Word Count: ~500

A/N: I know it's been ages since I wrote Zemo. I've been struggling with mental health and writer's block. This was supposed to be for a different character I write, but I wasn't loving it for them and somehow I ended up here. Not my best, but hoping that maybe it'll spark some inspiration for more Zemo.

Strands of golden sunlight peek through the crack in the long dark curtains, shielding you from the start of a new dawn. The honey-colored beams caress a soft line across your cheek. Your mouth is parted slightly, your breathing still shallow with sleep.

The back of his fingers brush gingerly across your cheek, no longer able to stay away. There was a time when this—this simple moment—didn't seem possible. He didn't think he could ever allow this for himself again, to be vulnerable, to be at the mercy of another, knowing any day could threaten such a moment as this, that this moment itself could be the last of its kind. It was a bittersweet knowledge, one born from the devastation of loss but, renewed with light each day by the love you shared.

You'd overcome so much to get here. It wasn't easy, but the two of you found your way, one day at a time, learning to trust and let go of the pains of the past. Each new dawn was another gift for you to treasure, knowing the frailty of each moment.

He listened to the soft sounds of your breathing, watching your chest rise and fall in a delicate rhythm that brought him peace. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, breathing in your familiar scent. If time could stand still, he would keep you there forever.

This was his favorite time of day. A new sunrise, a new dawn, a new start, a promise of hope (something he hadn't expected to believe in, and he never would have if it were not for you)—just a quiet moment where the world was still calm, many like you, still asleep. There wasn't so much noise. There was room to think and breathe. The pain of the past was left in yesterday, and the trials of the day had yet to begin.

You hum quietly, stifling a yawn. Your body shifts, searching in earnest.

He exhales a breath through his nose. The corner of his mouth turns up as his lips press together in a Cheshire grin. He wraps you in the warmth of his embrace.

Your body relaxes in the comforting safety of his arms. You nuzzle into him, letting the soft hair on his chest tickle your nose as you stir awake.

His thumb caresses soft circles on your back. "Morning, y/n," his velvet voice greets you.

You shake your head in protest, nestling further into him, not wanting to greet the new dawn yet, for this was your favorite time of day too. Waking up in his arms, knowing no matter the trials or troubles that you would face, you'd never be alone; he would always be there. His loyalty and devotion blanketed you in security. You smile to yourself, uncertain how you ended up here, in the arms of a (reformed) terrorist, knowing nowhere on earth was safer and more loving than this.

If you made it here, thank you so much for giving this drabble a chance! I truly appreciate it! Likes, reblogs, and comments are so truly appreciated.

I'm including the tag list I had last time I posted, which was months ago. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed, or if i need to update your blog name since I'm not sure all of these are still active.

Perma(til the end of the line): @the-soot-sprite; @fandomxreaders ; @itdobe-foggy ; @angiekurosaki

Zemo tags: @montypythonsholysnail ; @killsandthrills ; @noavengers ; @nalabarnes1031/ @treasureswordsgirl55 ; @trelaney ; @willowtheewisp ; @marchingicenotes7 ; @valquiria3000 ; @swooning-for-spider-man; @coffeewithoutcaffeine ; @mischievousvillainy ; ; @alindeluce ;

@book-fic-reader (incase your interested, sorry if you're not!)

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mcbiteypantspresents · 3 years ago

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Vogue Magazine | June 2002

10 Eligible Young Royals You Probably Didn't Know About

#7 Helmut Zemo: Educated in Germany and graduating with degrees in both political science and Italian literature, this heir to the Sokovian barony was once known for his scandalous partying. These days he's begun a career in the military where he's quickly become a well-respected member of his squad, and looks to have a promising future. Though he's been romantically linked with a number of young royals (and commoners), he's still currently single.

(Just some headcanon when I saw this sassy image of Daniel 😂)

Bonus Image:

#helmut zemo #tfatws #daniel bruhl #the falcon and the winter soldier #daniel brühl #baron zemo #blorbo from my shows #headcanon #fan fiction #zemo headcanon

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thelifeofbaronzemo · 4 years ago

Photo

This blog is a way to better organize my Zemo fics and help people find what they are looking for. All fics originally posted on @loveofafangirl but are reposted here for easier navigation.

Blog Navigation

💜 Masterlist : a list of all Zemo fics with synopses and in chronological order

💜 Fluff : all things fluffy and soft

💜 Comfort/Care : fics where either Zemo or the reader are comforted by the other

💜 Bittersweet : fluff with a bit of angst or sorrow

💜 Angst: fics that hurt (I’m sorry)

💜 Smut (coming soon or eventually)

💜 TFATWS AU: fics set during The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Series

💜 Future AU: fics set after the events of TFATWS Series

💜 Carl Zemo: fics that mention Zemo’s son either in discussion or memories (usually angst, comfort/care, or bittersweet)

💜 Requests: fics I’ve written based on requests

💜 Fan Art : my Zemo commissions

Fics by Reader

💜 Reader A: fics are mostly one-shots and can be read as standalones, but I headcanon that all of these can be read as the same reader with their relationship with Zemo growing over time. (there are two fics in this batch that are F!Reader the rest are gender neutral)

💜 Reader B : fics that don’t fit any other reader (gender neutral)

💜 Reader C: fics that don’t fit any other reader (gender neutral)

#baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo #baron zemo x yn #baron zemo x you #zemo x you #zemo x yn #baron zemo fan fiction #daniel bruhl

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lorna-d-m · 3 years ago

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Lights Out: Chapter 11

Summary: Roxanne, recently graduated and unemployed, gets a call from her childhood friend and hero: her cousin James hunt. In need of a social media manager after one too many scandals, he can think of no one better than Roxanne for the position. Excited about a fun job and getting to know more about her cousin, she jumps at the chance. However, amongst all the bright lights of both the circuit and the media, Roxanne falls in love with his rival: Niki Lauda.

Pairing: Niki Lauda (Rush 2013) x fem!OC Roxanne Hunt

Word Count: 4,152

CW: language, drinking, explicit content (oral fem receiving, vaginal sex)

A/N: First week of classes done AND I have a chapter for y'all :) I know the movie has Niki winning the title at Watkins Glen in 1975, but he technically won it at Monza since he scored enough points that no one could beat him. So I decided to have some fun with that. As always, check out the race report, any mistakes are my own, and let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Previous chapter

Monza, Italy

September 27th, 2020

The penultimate race of the season, and yet to many the most important. So long as Niki Lauda scored a single point, which appeared extremely likely, he would become the 2020 world champion.

Roxanne had never seen so many fans packed into the grandstands. Italian spectatorship was always high at Monza, but with Ferrari set to take both the constructor’s and the driver’s championship for the first time in eleven years, the stands overflowed. Additionally, the Niki stands were filled with Austrian fans willing to make the trip to see their man take the win.

But she wasn’t in the Ferrari camp. She spent her days in the Hesketh garage, offices, and surrounded by the team. At other races, she and Niki might have found a moment to be in the same conversation, with James and perhaps some of the other drivers there, but Monza was different. So much attention was thrust onto the Ferrari drivers, Roxanne never saw Niki. He was always swarmed by Ferrari team members or fans, all decked out in red.

“And our starting lineup for today has both Ferrari drivers on the front row. I think my ears are still ringing from the Tifosi’s cheering yesterday at the Ferrari lockout.”

“They have a very real possibility of seeing that man in pole position, Niki Lauda, take the win. What an incredible season it has been for a man who, at the start, seemed to be lacking pace.”

The cameras cut to Niki in the Ferrari garage, his bright red race suit zipped up and the balaclava in his hand. He talked animatedly with one of his mechanics, both their hands gesturing wildly, but their voices couldn’t be heard over the commotion. Instead, Roxanne listened to the commentators.

“For a man who started his season with what, a sixth-place finish, and two fifth-place finishes, he has recovered remarkably well.”

“Remarkably well is one way to put it!” The commentator, she was sure it was Martin, laughed. “Aside from the chaotic races of Silverstone and Austria, and his start, of course, Niki Lauda has been on the podium every single race this season.”

Niki finished his conversation and prepared to race. First, he inserted his earpiece, then he put on the balaclava which crushed the curls she adored, before securing his helmet. His fingers deftly found the clasps before slipping on the gloves. Dressed to race, he climbed into the car, careful not to muss the shine with his shoes. She watched Niki do a little twist and position himself in the seat before nodding to himself. He reached for the steering wheel, which they dutifully handed to him. Roxanne realized how regimented his approach was. Niki had a routine every time he got in the car. It was the complete opposite of James, who always scrambled to get ready and jump in the cockpit.

“And there goes the man in question now! He’s on his way to complete his warm-up lap before settling into his grid position.”

Roxanne beamed as he went and said a little prayer to anyone who might be listening. Let him be safe, and let him win.

***

Niki sat in his car and glanced all around him. It was difficult with the helmet, but he knew Clay sat beside him in P2. He smiled at the memory of the cheers from the day before. It was like they won the world championship, the fans screamed so loud. No, that would be today.

In his mirrors, he saw Emerson Fittipaldi behind him, the man second closest to him in the championship but still far behind, and beside him Jody Scheckter, who would be fighting to make up for eighth place in Austria. Further back in the fourth row he spotted Carlos Reutemann. Carlos was the other contender for the championship, but Niki would need to fail to score in both of the closing races with Carlos taking first both times to beat him. Niki looked at the clear sky above him, that had threatened rain only an hour earlier, and nodded to himself. There was no chance of rain now.

However, getting a good start off the line was not Niki’s only worry. James Hunt, three rows back and beside Carlos Reutemann, made him clench his jaw. Niki believed in good, clean racing, defined by following the track limits and respecting the boundaries. James, who was never one to live his life within the lines, troubled him for multiple reasons. First, he was aggressive and likely to shunt Niki if they inexplicably came to be side by side. Second, any contact between the two of them might give Roxanne a stroke or a heart attack.

Niki took a deep breath in and focused on the track ahead of him. The lights would go out at any moment, and he needed to be ready. He pushed any thoughts of Roxanne from his head and pictured the racing line into turn one.

“And it’s lights out and away we go at Monza!”

The right side of the track proved to be the better side to start from. Clay got the jump on Niki just as Scheckter got the jump on Fittipaldi. As they came into turn one, Niki found himself in second place behind Clay rather than leading as he envisioned. No matter. Keep going.

***

It wasn’t the start Roxanne envisioned for Niki, but at least he was ahead of the chicane calamity. From the screens, arguably the best viewpoint on the whole track, she watched a driver halted on the track with some issue which forced Scheckter to use the escape road and Mass to hit the curb. Behind them, Peterson collided with another car, and Andretti was forced to retire after hitting the debris. Yellow flags went up for the first sector, but Niki- already in the second sector- was unaffected.

“That is a nasty pileup in the chicane, but the race leaders continue the charge up ahead!”

“Reutemann and Fittipaldi are extremely eager to catch up to the Ferraris of Clay Regazzoni and Niki Lauda, but the Ferraris seem to have found another gear here at the temple of speed!”

“Cars with great traction and impressive braking tend to outperform any other on this track, and the Ferraris sure are showing it!”

“That’s why this track is incredibly tough on the engines! In one lap around Monza, the engines are at full throttle for nearly 80% of the lap. Engine failures are common, and they must be careful.”

“A Ferrari having an engine failure at Monza would be an outright disaster, wouldn’t it? Certainly not what the Scuderia or the Tifosi want to see today.”

It wasn’t what Roxanne wanted either. She remembered Niki talking to her about the track one night, making her visualize the turns with him. Drivers approached the final curve on the track in seventh gear, and would quickly shift down to fourth gear for the apex before shifting up to fifth for the exit. She watched him enter the curva parabolica, as it was called, and swore she could hear his engine shift gears. It was impossible of course, for her to hear his car over the roar of the crowd and over a dozen other engines, but she felt that connection watching him maneuver through the turn.

***

“Keep pushing, Fittipaldi just overtook Reutemann behind you.”

Niki moved his hands ever so slightly and hit the radio connect button. “What’s the gap to Regazzoni?” He didn’t worry about who scrambled for third behind him when Clay ran so far ahead of him on the track.

“Ten seconds at the moment. Hold steady, Niki. You’re doing good.”

He approached the chicane again and shifted down.

***

Roxanne sat in her corner of the garage and monitored the screens. One always showed the television coverage of the race, while another had James’s onboard camera. James ran in fifth place, a good recovery from qualifying, but still hungry for a podium. Depailler drove behind him for a while, and even took the position, but shortly after he spun off and went down the escape road.

It quickly became a three-way fight for fourth place, as the Ferraris were much further ahead with Fittipaldi following behind them. James spun out on lap twenty-seven but regained the position ten laps later. He fought hard, but Roxanne wasn’t sure he could overtake Reutemann before the end of the race.

“As they stand now, a fifth-place finish would put James Hunt in fourth in the championship. Not too shabby for a man who finished last year in eighth.”

“Not at all. It makes me wonder what James could do in a better car, not to disrespect the Hesketh, but if he were in, say a Ferrari or a McLaren, he could be fighting for the championship win.”

***

Niki knew Fittipaldi would turn into a problem for him. When Emerson took third place, Niki still worried about his gap to Clay. Then, for the next thirty or so laps, he heard his engineers report that Fittipaldi was gaining on him. Sometimes not much, maybe a quarter of a second per lap, sometimes as much as half a second a lap, but Niki knew with Fittipaldi’s determination it would turn into an issue.

Now when he looked in his mirrors, Fittipaldi was right behind him and desperate to make a move. Niki wiggled his thumb over the radio button while preparing for the next turn.

“How many laps are left?”

“Six laps to go.”

Niki covered himself on the turn, but he knew Fittipaldi would catch him before the end. Niki’s tyres were older than his, and he could cover as much as he wanted, but an experienced driver like Fittipaldi would find a way through.

Sure enough, at the second chicane, Fittipaldi overtook him. The slow corner, long straight, slow corner was the best section of the track to make a move.

***

“And it’s Clay Regazzoni for the win, Emerson Fittipaldi finishing in second, but all eyes are on Niki Lauda in third place!”

The roar of the crowd threatened to overshadow the announcers. Roxanne grinned for Niki and would have cheered too if she hadn’t sat in the Hesketh garage. The team rejoiced at James’s fifth place finish, and amidst the chaotic congratulations and claps on the back, Roxanne slipped out of the garage to find the rostrum. She needed to see Niki, not on a screen, but in person.

***

Before Niki could even park the car in parc fermé, the team swarmed around him. They patted him on the back, shook his hand, and even hoisted him up on their shoulders. He was on top of the world.

After giving everyone a moment to celebrate, he told them to put him back on the ground so the ceremony could proceed. Niki finally removed his gloves and helmet, leaving them on a little table where he picked up a cold water bottle and a towel to wipe away the sweat. He greedily drank it and wiped his brow before approaching one of the cameras.

“Niki, it’s been an incredible season! You must be overjoyed to take the title today here, in Monza, in front of thousands of Tifosi.”

He took another long sip from his bottle before responding. “It feels amazing. It’s been a tough but very rewarding season so far, and I can’t wait for the end of the season at Watkins Glen.”

“I expect you’ll be celebrating tonight, Niki?”

He laughed. A few things popped into his mind but none of them he wanted to share. “Celebrating, yes, but also getting back to work as soon as possible. There’s still one more race in the season, and there’s next season to look forward to as well.”

“You are relentless!”

“That is how you become world champion,” he grinned. “The moment you become complacent, you lose it.”

Niki couldn’t help but look for Roxanne when he stood on the podium. His eyes scanned the crowd, passing the Ferrari team decked out in red, and looked for her in her uniform: white polo shirt with the Hesketh logo, black pants, and her hair braided and tucked away. Niki’s goofy smile only widened when he found her, off to the side from the teams, but still there. There were too many cameras and eyes on him when all he wanted to do was to wave to her, say hello to her, or blow a kiss to her.

It was the happiest moment of his life, but he couldn’t share it with her.

***

James approached Niki, beer in hand, at the first party of the night just when he was trying to leave. There was always the dinner with the team, and then the first party with drivers and paddock members, but after parties, and the party after the after-party if you were James Hunt reveling through the night. Niki saw no need for such extravagance when he had a much better celebration waiting for him.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Niki nodded.

“With a car like that-” James started. Niki rested his hands on his hips, knowing James would say something to push his buttons. “-the rest of us never really stood a chance, did we?” James took a sip of his drink to punctuate his statement.

Niki crossed his arms in defense. “Maybe the fact the car is so good has something to do with me.”

“Oh, come on Niki,” he scoffed. “You’re in a Ferrari. I’m in a Hesketh.” Niki rubbed his chin in consideration. “Equal terms, the way it was in Formula Three, I’d beat you and you know it.”

“Never.” Niki wagged his finger in disagreement. “You might win one race, maybe two, because you’re aggressive. But in the long run, over the course of a season, no chance.”

“Right, why is that?” James entreated.

Niki couldn’t hide his smile as he explained. “Because to be a champion it takes more than just being quick. It’s the whole picture.”

“Ah.”

“You’re just a charger and a party guy.” James laughed while Niki shrugged. “That’s why everybody likes you.”

“Ah, try saying that and tell me you’re not jealous.”

He chuckled. “Why would I be jealous? Think about it. All that affection, all those smiles,” he gestured to the crowds around them who were oblivious to their conversation, “is a sign of disrespect.” Niki punctuated every sentence with a precise hand movement, his thumb and forefingers pinched together. “They don’t fear you. Whereas compare that to me-”

“-Yes,” James interrupted, “compared to you whom no one likes.”

“Right,” Niki nodded again. Not no one. He knew Roxanne slipped out of the party half an hour before him and would no doubt be waiting in her hotel room for him.

“Not even his own teammate.”

“Right.” Niki and Clay didn’t need to like each other, but they respected one another. “Because I’m a serious guy. I got to bed early, I look after myself, look after my car-”

“-Yes, you’re very well behaved.” James took another swig of his beer.

“Go to work, kick ass. And then after the race, I go home instead of going to bars and talk all this bullshit with all these assholes.” Niki once again waved to the partygoers around them. I go home to my loving girlfriend, he thought.

“Arseholes?” James took offense, and not for the first time in their conversation.

“You should go home more often, too.” James paused. He clearly hadn’t expected Niki to flip the tables on him. “I heard you got married.”

“Ah, yes, I did.”

Niki contemplated this. “So where is she, this mysterious wife?”

“In New York, working,” James answered flatly.

“Oh,” his brows furrowed together. “You know I’ve never seen you with her once.”

“No?” Niki shook his head. “Maybe that’s because you’re always at home, on your own, looking after yourself, being a good little boy.”

James’s closing comment clearly meant to insinuate he was alone, and Niki suppressed a smile at this. He was far from alone. James raised the bottle to his lips again as he walked away, and Niki couldn’t resist saying “Take a drink on me, James.”

“Thank you, Niki.” He teased. “I might just have two.”

Niki’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

Roxanne: I just got back to the hotel. Are you coming?

Niki: Leaving now.

He saw no need to tell her of his conversation with James. It was just drivers busting each other’s balls. Nothing more.

***

Cameras followed Niki all weekend, but as it reached one A.M. he considered himself safe in the hotel hallway. He knocked on Roxanne’s door with a bottle of champagne in the other hand. Niki figured since she never tasted victory champagne he might as well bring her some.

Roxanne opened the door, a satin black robe tied tightly around her. “Have you ever fucked a world champion?” he asked cheekily. Before she could answer him, he cupped her face and pulled her to him for a kiss. Her mouth tasted better than any champagne he ever had before. When he pulled back from her, he entered the room and shut the door behind him. She led him to the big bed while his hand held on to her waist.

“I like this,” he commented, fiddling with the thin tie.

She enticed him with a smirk. “Then you’ll like what’s under it even better.”

Niki tugged on the little string and pushed the satin fabric off her shoulders. He groaned at the bright red lingerie, the exact same color as his car and his racing suit, that hugged her figure.

“How long have you been hiding this?” His fingers trailed over the soft fabric as he fought the urge to rip it off of her. It looked so delicious on her, but he thought it might look better on the floor next to his clothes.

“I’ve been saving it for a special occasion,” she teased as she crawled onto the bed, “and I think it’s only worthy of a world champion, don’t you, Niki?”

That moment, her posed on the bed, the Ferrari red lingerie pushing up her breasts and cupping her ass perfectly, and her saying the words “world champion” did something to him. After stripping off his clothes, Niki crawled on the bed too and nestled himself between her legs so he could rip the thong off of her. There was a damp front on the spot, and he couldn’t resist teasing her as much as she teased him.

“Already? Does the thought of fucking a world champion make you wet, Schatz?”

“Only if it’s Niki Lauda, World Champion for 2020,” she answered.

“That’s right.” He tore the rest of the delicate fabric, sad to see it gone so soon, but relishing the sight of her without it. She slapped his arm playfully for ruining the set. He admired her, propped up on her pillows, and realized something was missing. Niki reached for the bottle of champagne he brought, and she curiously raised her eyebrows at him.

“You taste much better than it, Schatz, however, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would taste like if I licked it off of you.” She giggled in surprise when he popped the cork of the bottle. Bubbles and foam flowed from the neck of it and dripped on her. Niki brought the bottle to his lips, tasting it since he hadn’t on the podium, before spilling some across her chest.

Roxanne shivered at the drink, but soon enough his hot mouth was on her chest, lapping it up. He groaned softly at the taste of it. He licked every last drop off her, wandering from one breast to another and in the valley between them. Her fingers twisted in his hair, holding him close and tugging him more when he took one of her nipples into his mouth. His lips and tongue were soft as he played with it before he tugged on it with his teeth just as she clutched on his curls.

Niki looked up at her through his dark eyelashes and smirked against her skin. He kissed his way down her body, stopping to catch every trail of champagne as it ran down her. Niki settled himself again between her legs, his hands pushing against her thighs and holding her open for him. “I still think I’m right,” his eyes met hers again. “You taste much better than any champagne.”

Immediately after stating that fact, he dove in. He licked a stripe up her lips, spreading her slick arousal around, and gave teasing licks to her throbbing clit. She writhed under him, sensitive to his every touch, and that fueled his ego. As if winning the world championship hadn’t done enough to make him insufferable, hearing the way she panted and pleaded for him made him feel divine. Niki kissed and licked and sucked every bit of her, drawing her to the very edge of coming, and then focused somewhere else just to taunt her.

“Niki, please,” she moaned, her fingers tangled in his hair and drawing him closer.

His lips broke from her for a moment, glistening with her slick. “What? What do you need, Schatz?”

“I need to come!” she cried.

He slipped his fingers, which had been holding her apart bruisingly hard, into her wet cunt. His thumb rubbed her clit in small circles as he spoke, so cocksure of himself. “And who can make you do that?”

Roxanne begged. “You! Only you, Niki.”

“And who am I?” He brought his mouth back to her, his hot breath fanning her wetness.

“The champion! The world champion!”

“That’s right, Schatz.” He toyed with her clit with his tongue as his fingers curled and pressed on that spot that made her squeal. Her body shook with pleasure at his touch, and he eased off his movements, not stopping completely, but guiding her through it. A gush of her release coated his hand and spilled onto the sheets, but what was that compared to the champagne that had already been poured? Niki lapped that up as well.

When she could move again, he laid down on his back and coaxed her into getting on top of him. Niki remembered how beautiful she looked on top of him in Monaco and couldn’t resist. The way her chest bounced above him, and her hips and waist were perfectly within reach, not to mention how when his fingers found her clit again she turned into putty.

He slid into her with ease, thoroughly prepared moments before, and she moaned at the feeling of being full. Niki wiggled his hips under her, encouraging her to start moving. Obediently, she slowly lifted herself off him and then pushed back down, keeping a steady rhythm. Niki briefly pulled his lips away from her chest to reach for the champagne bottle again. He poured some more on her chest and licked it up as she rode him.

Niki set the bottle down and kissed her again, the taste of her and the expensive drink on his tongue. His lips wandered from hers, across her jaw, and to the spot on her neck that made her pulse quicken. One of his hands played with one of her nipples while the other snaked its way down, taking the time to squeeze her waist, her hips, and her ass. She clenched tighter around him when he did, which only spurred him on.

Soon enough, he started to toy with her sensitive clit again. Roxanne whimpered at his skillful fingers, and he felt her start to grip him tighter. She was close, and he was too.

“Whose tits are these?” His teeth grazed her throat, having already left one mark on her, and the hand on her nipple pinched it between his fingers.

“Yours!”

“Whose pussy is this?” His thumb that rubbed her clit in quick circles pressed it firmly.

“Yours!”

“And who am I?” he growled.

“The champion!” she gasped.

Almost overstimulated at his touch, she came again around him. This time he didn’t lighten up as she did; he fucked her through it. The way she squeezed him tight sped up his orgasm, and he buried himself deep inside her, filling her completely. When she came down from her high, she rolled off of him and laid down next to him, panting as well.

He shuffled to the bathroom to find a washcloth. On his way back to the messy bed, he leaned against the doorframe. “I think you should call room service for some new sheets.” Laughing, Roxanne reached for the bottle of champagne on the nightstand and took a sip.

“It tastes pretty good,” she admitted.

Niki sat back down on the bed and started to clean her up. “You taste even better, Schatz,” he said with a kiss.

Next chapter

Tag list: @apparrio @scuttle-buttle @lieutenantn @fictionlandslanddreams @danielbruhlswife @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @hardlyinteresting

#niki lauda fan fiction #niki lauda rush 2013 #daniel brühl fanfiction #daniel brühl niki lauda #daniel brühl rush #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl fanfiction

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lafemmedezemo · 3 years ago

Note

how did you just manage to pick like my two favorite artists?

witchcraft!

I’m curious about ♫ + laszlo kreizler for the music ask, please???

I’ve been trying to find the perfect song for him, but I just can’t decide…

- @lafemmedezemo 🖤

Yes! I've been working on a Laszlo playlist for the last couple days and 2 songs I've been thinking about for him are Arsonist's Lullabye by Hozier and this is me trying by Taylor Swift

Send me a ♫ + a character’s name and I will respond with a song that reminds me of them. Send a ♫ + a ship and I will do the same.

#if you finish that playlist let me know please!!!#I’m obsessed with peoples playlists for fictional characters #also #are all daniel bruhl fans required to like hozier?#ella.txt #my secret identity

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smokeybrandreviews · 3 years ago

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Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Russia's Favorite Love Machine

Historic fiction is one of my favorite genres to explore in storytelling. History, by itself, is already bonkers as f*ck, but in the hands of a proper creative? Masterworks can be created. Tarantino has positioned his later career almost exclusively in this genre and he has brought us gems. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, The Hateful Eight, Django Unchained and, of course, his magnum opus, Inglourious Basterds. Absolute f*cking brilliance. Now, it’s never a grantee that you hit as hard as Quentin does dabbling in retelling history. Sometimes, you stumble and get an Alexander or The Passion of the Christ. I don’t know what the f*ck happened with that last one but it was absurd and i hated it so much. I am also a fan of the Kingsman franchise, even if Golden Circle was basically just an exercise in ego and hubris, so when a third was announced as a prequel set in WWI, i was on board. And then the Wuha happened. And then the Wuha happened again. The Wuha is still happening but, now, we don’t seem to care anymore and The King’s Man is on VOD to check out. Doe this thing stand as tall as the first or does it do the way of a henchman burger like the second?

The Good

Gorgeous film is gorgeous. That opening sequence sets the pace bu this entire movie is a feast for the eyes. I generally like the globe-trotting spy experience and King’s Man did not disappoint. I mean, it did in other aspects but never aesthetic.

Matthew Vaughn has his hands all over this thing. Dude is an exceptional creative and rarely disappoints. I say rarely because he is definitely not bullet proof. Kingsman: The Golden Circle was a bloated mess of unfocused ego and underwhelming spectacle. That said, the work he delivered here skews more toward the strong than the bloated. There is a clear , focused story Vaughn want to tell and he tells it wonderfully.

I mentioned before I'm a sucker for a good historical fiction and this one is a strong contender for one of the best. Vaughn got a story credit for this thing so it’s his idea, and a very good one at that. Sh*t ain’t Basterds but it’s still dope as f*ck.

The writing is decently strong, too. I can’t say it’s on par with, say, the first Kingsman or Layer cake, but it’s still really f*cking good. There were very few moments during dialogue exchange where i kind of groaned. I found myself doing that sh* all the time with The Golden Circle.

But that sound design, though!

I have to say, i really enjoy this cast. There are a lot of strong performers who do not disappoint. Ralph Fiennes delivers a very English performance as the lead Orlando Oxford but the excellence doesn’t end there. Gemma Arterton and Djimon Hounsou are both very capable in their respective roles and Matthew Goode was delightfully evil as the primary antagonist. I loved that vulgar motherf*cker. There were many, many, more names in this thing but I'll get to them later. That said, my absolutely favorite character in this was Rasputin.

I have an affinity for fictional Grigori Rasputins. From those old Devil Summoner games to the weirdly zombified version in that old Anastasia cartoon but Rhys Ifans was absolutely amazing in the role. He was so charismatic and chewed all of the scenery on the way to stealing every scene he was in. Seriously, Rasputin is the best thing about this film and it feels less after his death.

The Meh

So i mentioned this solid cast above, i am by no means walking that back, but it’s kind of a blessing and a curse. All of this talent; Tom Hollander, Harris Dickinson, Daniel Bruhl, Charles Dance, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, and Valerie Pachner all show up in this thing in one form or another so some cats get the shaft in terms of screen time. Literally everyone i just listed get that shaft and there are even more who aren’t even worth mentioning. I wanted more of Taylor-Johnson and Bruhl but, instead, i got next to none. Frustrating.

The pacing was a little wonky. There is a scene that just grinds this entire film to a halt for about ten minutes. It’s the third act revelation and it kind of f*cking sucks but that’s probably more because i found the character it involves, borderline insufferable.

The violence and gore is toned way down in comparison to the first two entries. It’s not a bad thing, you know sh*t happens and it’s inferred well but there is nothing so graphic as Julianne Moore grounding her henchmen into hamburgers. And then feeding it to someone. The action you expect is intact. There is a wonderful sword fight with Rasputin set to the 1812 overture and it’s breathtaking, but there is next to no gore in this film whatsoever.

The Bad

The women in this film get shafted hard. I mentioned this in the Meh, but a lot of characters don’t get enough screen time to really be characters and the three women get the worst of it. Alexandra Maria Lara gets fridged for character development in the opening sequence, Valerie Pachner is a literal plot device, and Gemma Arterton is never given the opportunity to be the utter bad ass she was hinted at truly being. The first two, fine, i get it. But Gemma’s character is founding member of Kingsman and she was little more than a background character.

The Verdict

The King’s Man is pretty good. Definitely a step up from The Golden Circle but just shy of the height Secret Service achieved. There is a lot of good here, fertile ground to build a prequel universe around. Vaughn has created a lore rich world, piggy-backed off real world events, and you can tell he’s having a field day playing in that sandbox. His direction is on point and the narrative is compelling, if a little drawn out. The cast is outstanding, if a little underused, but the standout is definitely Rhys Ifans’ Rasputin. That guy came though and made this film a straight experience. Until he died. Rasputin dies. Because history. This thing has wonderfully sound design, great editing, decent pacing, and gorgeous shot composition. It’s a true theater experience ad i feel bad i missed it in the cinemas. Still, The King’s Man is exceptional and definitely worth the watch.

#Smokey brand Movie Reviews #The King's Man #Kingsman

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ultrahpfan5blog · 3 years ago

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The King's Man - a weird tonal misfire

I am honestly a big fan of Matthew Vaughn. I remember loving Kick Ass and then X-Men: First Class was my favorite X-Men movie when it came out. Then I watched films like Layer Cake and Stardust, both of which I enjoyed. Then Kingsman came out and that just solidified my love for his work. Kingsman 2 was the first time where I thought he stumbled. But even though I wasn't a big fan of the film and overextended his hand a bit, there was still enough to like to make it passable. So I was interested in The King's Man as an origin story for Kingsman. Having seen it, I ended up finding it to be a puzzling misfire.

The film really is a bizarre confluence of tones. On one hand we have a period action film which fictionalizes events of World War I, on another hand we have an over the top spy film with characters like Rasputin, the Shepherd and his agency, the Kaiser etc..., and then thirdly we have a pretty grim WWI film in the middle of it. Any of these tones individually could work, but together they are just a mishmash that makes no sense. It honestly feels a little uncomfortable at times because the WWI section of the film is pretty gritty and brutal and realistic, and then they are fictionalizing real life horror events and characters like Lenin, Rasputin, Kaiser, and even Hitler as part of one big conspiracy. The two tones don't work well with each other. That's really the primary, but very big problem with the film. Because the film feels so different from act to act, there is no natural flow. Whereas the first Kingsman hit a right balance of the over the top spy and great action, Vaughn hasn't really been able to hit the balance in this universe since with Kingsman 2 being a little too over the top and ridiculous and The King's Man being overly serious and dramatic at times.

There is some good stuff. Taken individually, the war sections are pretty harrowing and some of the action set pieces are pretty good. The fight against Rasputin is quite fun. The climactic sequence is also quite enjoyable. I would say that the film could have been a good period action film, a good WWI drama, or a good over the top spy film, if Vaughn had just committed to that particular aspect.

The performances are all solid. Ralph Fiennes is an excellent lead. Gemma Arterton and Djimon Honsou as Fiennes' primary backup are both excellent. Harris Dickinson is solid as Conrad. Rhys Ifans is clearly having a blast as Rasputin as is Tom Hollander in a triple role as King George, the Tsar, and the Kaiser. Matthew Goode delivers a weird performance with an over the top scottish accent that I'm not sure was meant to be funny or to be menacing. Actors like Daniel Bruhl, Aaron Taylor Johnson, and Charles Dance are mostly wasted. In the end, its a watchable but rather bizarre tonal misstep. It sets up a sequel that I doubt will happen given the BO result of this film. Overall, a 5/10.

#the king's man #rhys ifans #ralph fiennes #djimon hounsou #gemma arterton #harris dickinson #tom hollander #daniel bruhl #aaron taylor johnson #matthew goode #charles dance #matthew vaughn

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smokeybrand · 3 years ago

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Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Russia's Favorite Love Machine

The Good

But that sound design, though!

The Meh

The Bad

The Verdict

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nightingveilxo · 7 years ago

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The Alienist: Inside The Mind of a Serial Killer With Daniel Brühl

Daniel Brühl opens up on crime, serial killers, and his complicated character, Dr. Laszlo Kreizler, in The Alienist.

Serial killers have never been more popular. The taboo, frightening topic has always had a place in pop culture, but recently there has been an abundance of programs about serial killers and grisly murders. TNT has recently thrown their hat into the ring in this category with The Alienist, which is based on Caleb Carr’s series of books. The Alienist is set at the end of the 1800s in New York City and follows the unusual group of professionals who are brought together to take down a murderer who targets young boy prostitutes. One of the reasons that The Alienist works so well is that it’s an original, fictionalized crime, but it pulls many actual details from history and involves real historical figures. It has the feeling of a great true crime story, even though it’s not.

The Alienist also features an incredible cast that features the likes of Luke Evans, Dakota Fanning, and Daniel Brühl. Brühl portrays Dr. Laszlo Kreizler, an “alienist” (1900s criminal psychologist), who finds himself trying to get into this serial killer’s head in order to catch him, but he must also be careful to not lose himself in the process. Brühl brings a strong, nuanced performance to the role and we got the opportunity to chat with him about Laszlo Kreizler, the show’s grisly subject matter, and if he’s a big crime junkie himself.

DEN OF GEEK: The Alienist isn’t exactly true crime, but it uses a lot of historical figures and accuracies to tell its story. Why do you think this genre and serial killers have exploded so much lately?

DANIEL BRUHL: There’s always been a huge interest in stories dealing with serial killers because darkness and evil lies within us all and we normally, as human beings, try to bury the horrible impulses that we have, I guess that makes the subject fascinating. Violence is such a big human theme. We’re captivated by it in this particular show. I think it’s thought-provoking to see the forensic experts and psychologists who started to chase and follow serial killers all that time ago.

Are you a big true crime junkie yourself?

Yes I am. Right now I’m watching Mindhunter and addicted to the show.

There’s a really fascinating team or personalities and specialties in this show between an alienist, a police commissioner, a newspaper illustrator, and a secretary. Talk a little on why you think this dynamic between this eclectic group works?

I think because they are all outcasts who share similar motivations and values, each one of them is determined to make a change and each of them is a pioneer in their own right and field. All of them have to fight obstacles and enemies, none of them are accepted, and most of them have to fight tough backgrounds and demons of their own. They have these symbiotic relationships because they know they need each other to succeed.

Dr. Laszlo Kreisler is such a fascinating character because he really needs to get in these criminals heads and you can see him begin to lose himself in the process. Talk a little on how he tows that line and what’s interesting about that balance?

It is interesting to play a psychologist back in those days. They didn’t do instructive analysis which nowadays everyone does. Kreizler needs to deal with his personal problems, pressures and demons by himself and that puts him very often in a state of a huge vulnerability and emotional fragility. That contrast of being such a determined and smart psychologist and analyzing everyone as well as being sensitive to everything around him appeals to me.

There’s that telling line in the pilot where Laszlo says that John Moore represents the good in people. There’s also another line about how some people might think that Laszlo looks at himself as God. How do you think Laszlo looks at himself and what do you think that he represents in people?

At the end of the show we’ll clearly understand his issues and the reasons why he is such an obsessive man. This obsession and attempt to help children comes from a deeply rooted humanistic attitude he has, so he is a man who is genuinely interest in human beings and wants to help them. This is why I would say he is not God, but is good.

There are so many unique, unusual details about this case that make it so interesting, like the fact that the body shows up on the Brooklyn Bridge, or that it involves little boys whose organs are removed. What was it about this story that you were attracted to?

Since I was a teenager I was attracted by darkness, dark books, dark writers so I devoured all these dark stories like ‘Jack The Ripper’ and mysteries with ‘Sherlock Holmes’. Many of these stories that I was attracted were set is this period of time. The Alienist for me was a combination of all these dark fictional stories and all historical books I read which equally fascinate me. I’ve been reading a lot about psychologists and how their mind works and thought process so to play a character like this was a great challenge.

Misdiagnoses were so rampant back in that day and your character is right in the middle of that field. Elaborate on that a little and if you think Laszlo is reluctant or cavalier with his diagnoses?

It is such a complex process to diagnose disease, especially mental disorders. There are still misdiagnoses, many question marks, and mysteries when it comes to the human mind. It’s not surprising this science began quite late because it also means looking into ourselves and that’s something not everyone is ready to do and know. Kreizler does his best in finding the right path, as we’ll see further on the show. He will also commit mistakes and make wrong judgments and so this is something that I liked about him and something I look for when choosing characters. He has to live and deal with his flaws and mistakes because these can have a huge impact on him and the people around him.

#the alienist #daniel bruhl #laszlo kreizler

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blackleatherjacketz · 2 years ago

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When you've got me on my knees

Baron Zemo x Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Edging, Bondage, Sex Toys, Dom/Sub Dynamics

On the brink of collapse, your thighs shake as he pulses the vibrating toy deeper into your center, his eyes transfixed on your slack expression. Your eyelids nearly fall shut as you attempt to guide your hips into it, moaning with delight as every inch of your skin tingles with sheer ecstasy.

He pulls the toy out from between you thighs, robbing you of the pleasure you were so close to experiencing, like a word you can’t recall that’s on the very tip of your tongue. You feel it begin to diminish already, to recede back into your core as that device of his slowly leaves your body. Whining in protest, you instinctively knit your brows together as he looks at you with piqued interest.

“Do you want me to continue?” He teases your clit with the tip of the toy upon its exit, spreading your juices up and down your length.

“Yes!” You barely manage a whisper, tugging on the restraints that keep your hands tied behind your back.

“You didn’t think I was going to let you get off that easily, did you?” He strokes your hair with a gloved hand, keeping the toy just close enough for the heat to radiate onto your moistened skin.

“No? I… I don’t…” your answer trails off, unsure of what you’re supposed to say in this moment to get what you want. You aren’t exactly used to playing these kind of games just yet, the rules to them still seeming a bit hazy in your head.

“Do you want me to stop?” He leans down closer to your face, his glare so heavy it nearly weighs you down.

“No.” All you want is for him to keep touching you, for you to be released and to be able to touch him in return, but something tells you that it won’t be that easy.

“Do you want more, my darling?” He traces the outline of your face with his forefinger, a devious smirk curling his lips upward.

“Yes,” you nod your head, eyes welling up with tears as your entire body shivers in anticipation. “Yes, please.”

Zemo licks his lips, his eyes suddenly glinting with satisfaction as he smooths his fingers down your neck and chest before bringing them down to your belly and between your thighs. He spreads them even further apart as he gets down on his knees, kissing the sensitive skin between them as he holds the toy even closer.

“Good,” he kisses you there again. “Now beg me for more.”

#baron zemo x reader #baron zemo imagine #daniel brühl #helmut zemo fan fiction #helmut zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo x reader #daniel bruhl

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andsheloved · 3 years ago

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for drabble tuesday maybe a soulmate au!! with zemo? mayhap something along the lines of when he met heike (his wife), though knowing she wasn't his soulmate, he still loved her dearly. however after sokovia fell, he found that the reader was the only one able to fully bring him comfort/peace from his grief, being soulmates and all. perhaps with a bit of angst in where he's conflicted over his feelings in honor of his dead wife? but the desperation knowing he'd never have this peace otherwise.

oh man, me thinks i absolutely levitated when i got this ask, mmm i love this so much!! i have never written a soulmate au before but i am very excited to try!! i hope you enjoy this my friend!! mwauh!!

pairing ~ helmut zemo x gn!reader

word count ~ 1k

warnings ~ discussion of familial death (heike + carl), mention of praying in a not religious sense, mention of shield agent reader (but no real elaboration), slight tfatws spoilers, mild angst with a fluffy ending!

prompt ~ trope #5: soulmate au

He was told all of his life, even from when he was a young boy, mindlessly wandering around his family's estate without a care in the world, that love had bigger plans for him.

He was told he would simply just feel it. An undeniable pull, like a string tied to his heart that would tug and tug relentlessly until he was chest to chest with the apparent love of his life.

As years went on and people passed him by, he feared that the empty feeling of desperation that had settled in his chest, longing for something, someone, would always remain.

Even as he found himself at the alter with Heike, he waited patiently as they both said their vows, anxiously anticipating the sudden feeling.

Though it never came.

He still felt that he loved her, that he never doubted, even when his son was born, it wasn't that he felt nothing, it was just a strange, different sort of love that kept them all together.

He wondered if she felt the same way, empty and yearning for a feeling that may very well never be found.

He hoped not.

He prayed not.

As he finally lay eyes on the bodies of his family, he found himself on his knees, not only weeping, but praying.

He had never been much of a religious man, but suddenly, words tumbled from his lips, words begging that she had felt at least something. His heart sunk at the idea that she had never felt that pull that now almost seemed like a fairy tale to him, and for her to not feel anything before she passed pained him to even wonder.

He felt empty, he still loved her, he feared he always would, and he had just lost the only chance he would ever have at some semblance of love.

"I'm so sorry."

He heard a soft voice behind him, and he quickly stood from his knees, brushing off dust and debris as he turned.

It was just as sudden as he had been told, like a unstoppable magnet that attracted him to you.

Not now, not now, not now.

He had dreamed of this moment, for years, and now that it had finally came, he wished he could have taken back every day dream and hope for this one minute.

A soft, sad smile played on your lips, "I'm sorry" You repeated, slowly placing a hand on his shoulder.

It felt like electricity, like a lightning bolt had shot straight though him. He should have been overjoyed, finally, what he had always been waiting for.

But all he could feel was grief. His future may very well could have been standing before him, but all he felt was loss. He had loved them, he still loved them, he had loved her, and joining the pit that had begin to fester in place of his heart, confusion and pain nestled themselves deeper between his heart strings.

You had clearly felt it as well, your eyes slightly widening the moment you touched him. You seemed so unsure, but intrigued regardless.

He sighed, a feeling of shame now washing over him, he hated to think that now, you would be left with that same empty feeling he had felt for years, but it was simply a fact of life to him now.

Sometimes, some things aren't meant to be, some people aren't meant to be, even some feelings just aren't destined to be felt by certain individuals.

And although walking away from you almost physically pained him, he knew he had to.

It would be for the best anyway.

It felt like a lifetime ago, his family, Sokovia, you, and he had believed he had almost become completely numb of feeling, he was sure that prison only helped him in that regard.

He would think about you on occasion, sometimes, he even believed he could even feel that rush of sparks shooting through him as you touched him that day.

It was a strange sort of comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

He dreamt of a life beyond the walls of his cell, and when he dreamt, while he still felt a flash of guilt at the idea, he dreamt of you.

He would sometimes feel that same pulling feeling again, and he would rush to the front of his cell.

He remembered your clothing that day, a uniform of some sort, the SHIELD logo emblazoned on the sleeve of your shirt.

Were you here to release him? To bring him in for questioning? Or maybe you had found him?

Were you just as lonely as him?

His shoulders slumped when he finally saw who had entered the room, but as the familiar man propositioned him, he was filled with something entirely new.

Hope.

As he made his way through the guards and brawling prisoners, he felt it again. The sudden pull he had felt when he first met you had returned, but it wasn't fleeting this time, it was somehow stronger, much more powerful than any other time, and ignoring every instruction given to him, he began to be guided by it, he followed the feeling, all the way into some hidden away garage.

His heart drummed in his ears, the pull was almost as strong as the day he had first met you, yet you were nowhere to be found.

"...He okay?" He heard Sam chime, though he was much too distracted by the thunderous beating in his chest to care.

There were footsteps behind him, and he instantly turned.

"Hi" You muttered, a stunned expression on your face as you stood before him.

"Hello" He meekly replied, his legs seemingly working on their own accord as he walked closer to you.

He could hear the two men behind him bicker, "You're kidding" "How were we supposed to know..."

It was going to be an interesting few weeks, that was certain, but a thought occurred to him, a feeling he wasn't convinced he had ever felt before. The very idea both frightened and excited him.

No matter what happened, no matter what Sam and James threw at him, regardless of whatever peril and danger he found himself in, you would be worth it.

i hope i did your request some justice my friend!! this was actually kind of very fun to write, and i am just, asghdhwfornewg over the idea that your soulmate will always find you :'), anyways, i hope you enjoyed this my friend!! mwauh!!

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!!

want more zemo? check out my masterlist!

join in on drabble tuesdays!

#madeline's drabble tuesdays!#helmut zemo x reader #zemo fluff #helmut zemo angst #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo fluff #helmut zemo x y/n #zemo x y/n #zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo x gender neutral reader #zemo x gn!reader #daniel bruhl fan fiction #helmut zemo fan fiction #no use of y/n

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loveofafangirl · 4 years ago

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The Right Thing

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader (no gender, race, body type given)

Synopsis: As Zemo is sneaking away from his abode in Latvia in search of freedom, he is pulled back when he notices the fight in his home above has become dangerous for those in the streets. *Fluff:Comfort/Care*

Word Count: <1,500

Author’s Note: This is my first time writing Zemo. I don’t know what happened but he is living (and dancing) in my head rent-free so I hope you enjoy this little fic. I typically write third person; second person/reader is not really my area of comfort, so please excuse any mistakes. Not betad. A/N2: This reader becomes “Reader A” on my masterlist. Most fics can be read as this reader with their relationship with Zemo developing (even though they are all mostly one shots)

TW: non-graphic mentions of blood and injuries

He averted his gaze, pulling the collar of his coat up, attempting to blend in with the crowd forming in the street as he slipped out of his Latvian home. He could hear the clash of Vibranium echoing on the floor above. Children gathered in the street below, looking up curiously at the unusual sounds. He wanted to warn them. He knew the threats of fallout that followed from being too near those so-called heroes better than anyone. However, he feared the delay would cost him his freedom and what he must do. He quickened his pace away from them.

The shattering of a large window sounded behind him as the building took a beating from those fighting. He turned at the noise, too late to do anything more than observe the shards of colorful glass rain down on those below.

He watched in horror as the debris struck a few people. You caught his attention when you protected a young boy, which caused you to suffer the most. He admired your resolve. You did what he wasn’t strong enough to do. He turned back the way he was heading, trying to forget the damage he saw.

You were curious about the cacophony of sounds coming from the building. You had heard that some of the Avengers were in town. You had secretly hoped to catch a glimpse of them. Not because you were a fan, more because you wanted to see them—to size them up. You had always been a good judge of character, and you wanted to determine for yourself whether they were essentially good or not; although, you already knew the world was far grayer than most people gave it credit.

The noise above grew louder, and you could tell a battle was ensuing. You watched the number of people growing beside you, more specifically, the number of children enchanted by the unusual sounds. For a moment, fear flashes on your face, remembering Sokovia and the damage left in the wake of the last Avengers fight in the area.

Before you have time to warn them, screams fill the air as glass and bricks begin to fall. You turn quickly, covering a small boy standing beside you, shielding him from the brunt of the crumbling debris. You cry as the glass pierces your skin; you feel blood begin to drip from some of the larger wounds.

“Are you okay?” You ask the boy whose body trembles in your arms.

He nods, his lips quivering. He runs off down the street, following the crowd away from the scene without a word to you.

You drag yourself away, too, hoping to find a quiet spot to nurse your injuries. You’re grateful they’re not worse since you can’t afford to go to the doctor. You turn a corner and sit on an old crate in the quiet alleyway.

You peel off your shirt and turn to pull the first piece of glass from your back. You cry at the pain but continue on, gritting your teeth.

“Let me?” His voice was soft as he held his hands out in front of him, gesturing toward your wounds.

Weary of the new stranger, you pull back defensively.

“Please.” He remained where he stood, not moving on you, giving you space. “I can help. You saved that child. Let me help you now. You won’t be able to reach them all on your own.”

Reluctantly, you nod, allowing him closer.

He slowly moves beside you, keeping his hands up, showing you he meant you no harm.

His touch is softer than you imagined. You don’t even feel his careful fingers removing the glass. Eventually, you work up the nerve to ask, “Are you a doctor?”

“No,” he replies simply and continues his work. “Unfortunately, I have seen more destruction and loss than I would like.”

You sit in silence until he is done. He takes a minute to carefully inspect you, making sure to have removed all of the pieces to prevent infection.

He wipes the soft fabric of his trench coat over your skin, collecting the blood that had spilled.

His movements were so tender and warm that you can’t help but relax at his touch. The pain in your back seems to disappear under his care.

“There. All better.”

“Thank you, truly.”

His lip curls up in the corner. “You were a hero today. Many only delude themselves to be that. Few actually prove themselves to be so on occasion.”

You search his face for more. There is pain there that cut deeper than any shard of glass could. The two of you shift closer. There’s something in his eyes that lets you know his thoughts had drifted away from you. You know that look‚ the look of loss—of longing. It was all too common in the recent months and years.

Before you can step back and thank him once more, his lips brush over yours, slowly. It feels like a dream, and for a moment, you’re afraid to breathe, as it feels like the wind whispering quietly on your lips. His eyes seem brighter at that moment like something had changed. As you decide to give yourself over to it, he pulls away, startled.

“My apologies.” His tone is honest as he steps back. He almost sounds surprised that it had happened.

“It’s okay.” You aren’t in the habit of letting random men kiss you and get away with it, but there was something genuine about him. Your eyes widen, truly focusing on the man in front of you for the first time. His brown eyes are warm and kind. You could tell he had been through a lot, but he had still taken the time to assist you. “It wasn’t you. Well, at least not completely you. It’s been a long time since someone was that…tender to me.” You swallow hard at your confession, unsure of why you had told this stranger that. “Most men want more. Demand it when it is refused.”

His eyes fill with what you think is concern, but he’s hard to read. You wonder if you’re fooling yourself, and it’s a look of pity that you’re trying to rewrite.

He looks around nervously as people rush past the entrance of the alleyway. “I should be going.”

Filled with courage you didn’t know you had, you take a step forward and brush a kiss on his cheek. Your fingers linger on him. “Thank you again.”

“My pleasure.”

His smile, as he begins to move away, left you wanting more—needing to better understand him. You watch him walk toward the busy street. “Wait.”

He turns toward you, his head tilted to the side, waiting for you to continue.

“Why did you help me?”

“It was the right thing to do.” He stated plainly.

You nod thoughtfully. Not many people would have helped you like that without wanting more. Not many people know what the right thing is anymore. You’re not even sure you know all the time. “Can I ask you something else?”

He looks around again as if waiting for someone to find him. He offers a curt nod.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but do you need a place to lay low for a day?”

His head tilts further to the side, “why would you ask that?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. I guess, you just look like a man who’s running.”

“How very astute of you.” He marches closer again, studying your face more carefully now.

“You can stay with me...just for the night,” you clarify quickly.

“You don’t know me. Why would you make such an offer?”

“It’s the right thing to do." You look down, bashful for a moment, before continuing. "Plus, you helped me; I owe you a debt.” Both were partly the truth, but the third reason you couldn’t bring yourself to admit to him was that you weren’t ready to let him go.

He considers your offer, as he proceeds to attempt to understand you. "One night."

"One night," you agree. You reach for your shirt, attempting to shake out the remaining bits of glass and put it back over you.

"Here." He stops you, pulling his lavish coat off his shoulders, and wraps it around you in one fluid motion.

The gesture catches you off guard, and you let a little noise of surprise slip from your lips.

He doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he isn’t smug about it. He buttons the coat closed, shielding your body from the outside world. Stepping to the side, he extends his arm, a gentle smile on his lips. "After you."

You're not really sure what you're doing or why you made the offer you did, but you do know that for the first time in a long time, there's a smile on your face that you can't seem to wipe away. You touch your fingers to your lips, still mesmerized by the delicate kiss. You step forward, ready for whatever the future has for you. "Follow me."

[Next Part: A Promise]

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#baron zemo #zemo #the falcon and the winter solder #baron zemo x reader #zemo x reader #zemo x original character #helmut zemo #marvel fan fiction #mcu fan fiction #baron zemo fan fiction #daniel bruhl fan fiction #tfatws

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