#baron zemo dark fic

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙯𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙨 | helmut zemo x reader

@radmerrmaid requested a drabble with zemo and enemies to lovers. what happened is a whole oneshot. don't ask me how.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: DUBCON SMUT, enemies to lovers/hate sex, rough sex including hair pulling, degradation and name calling, restraint, a slap, and overstimulation, touchstarved reader, unspecified age gap, very mild violence (hand-to-hand combat and a mention of a previous gunshot wound), kidnapping, soft!dark zemo?

"It must drive you crazy," he purred, wrapping his fingers carefully around the crystal glass before picking it up. "Seeing me like this."

He smirked around his sip of bourbon— at least you figured it was bourbon— as you tried to keep a poker face. You didn't like the idea of being seen as crazy at all, let alone because of him. "Like what?" you pressed instead of admitting to it.

"Free," he shrugged. "Out of that cage you worked so hard to keep me in."

"Getting you there was my job," you corrected with a frown. "If keeping you there was mine, too... you'd still be in it."

He laughed lightly, if briefly, and shook his head. "Still so prideful. You're young, and you have something to prove."

"I have nothing to prove to you," you asserted, shifting your weight on your hips— it was sort of uncomfortable to keep standing, but it felt wrong to take a seat even though he'd offered you one when you entered. It seemed like a sign of trust. Not that he should be surprised by you acting aloof, when he'd offered to meet you here without even explaining why.

"No, not to me," he agreed, setting the glass down again and taking one step closer to you. "To your friends at the CIA."

He seemed to emphasize every letter of the acronym, a playful condescension in his tone. "Friends is a funny way to say it," you rolled your eyes, "like I do what I do because I want to be popular, and not because I want to keep the world safe."

"Safe from me," he added, "the evil terrorist. Right?"

You ignored his question, not really wanting to dignify it with an answer— or start some spiel about how you don't really believe in evil people, just actions that merit punishment, bla bla bla...

"Yet, you couldn't keep yourself safe from me," he went on, raising one eyebrow as he examined you. "Or, you can't. Here you are— alone, as I asked."

Obviously, you had tried to imagine some way you could have back-up for this, even just tell someone where you were going. But this was Zemo's turf, and he had eyes and ears all over the city... he would know if you tried to turn this into a sting. Instead, you only hoped to gain some sort of information tonight that you could use to track him down when he tried to run again.

"You're more trusting than I suspected," he smirked, gaze darkening a bit. "Or, more desperate."

"Maybe the right word is 'curious'," you proposed. "Clearly, you have something to discuss with me."

"I do," he nodded. "A question to ask you-- one I feel only you can answer."

You waited for him to ask it, but even just the way he sucked in a sharp breath made you realize he was going to bore you with some preamble first— just like him, really..

"You see, after evading you so many times—"

"Narrowly," you interjected.

"Maybe some times," he shrugged, smiling, "other times, I think I had plenty of room. But that's besides the point... the point is, here I am. I've probably bested you for the last time—"

"That's not—"

"Ah ah, no interrupting, please," he scolded gently. "I know you know that if I can keep a low profile here, your organization has no hope of getting me back. I simply have too many resources, and your superiors know my risk is relatively low. No?"

Again, you refused to answer, but the way you crossed your arms tighter and glanced away seemed to serve as enough of an agreement.

"So that's it— I'm free. It should be so simple," he sighed. "So, why am I disappointed?"

You furrowed your brows, staring at him in confusion. You were waiting for him to say something to give context to that, but he didn't— he only waited for your response with an earnest look. "Why... are you asking me that?" you wondered.

"Because you're the person who knows me best."

You'd never thought of it like that, and it was such a jarring idea that you began to shake your head almost instantly. "No, that... that doesn't seem right..."

"I figured you would take pride in it," Zemo grinned. "You tracked me for years, studied me, learned my habits... I had to do the same to escape you. I must know you better than anyone else."

"That's ridiculous," you scoffed. "What are you trying to say?"

"I just hoped you could tell me why I feel this way— why I feel so wrong about never seeing you again."

Your chest tightened. You couldn't bear to meet his gaze; your stomach felt sick and strange and you just wanted to run out of there, but what good would that do? You needed him to tell you something you could use, one last chance to catch him before it was too late.

"If I didn't know you so well, and hate you so much," he went on, "I wouldn't have the energy to keep running. And me? I'm your biggest case. Sometimes you act like I'm your only case. What is it about me, that you need to win against me so badly?"

"It's not you," you insisted instantly, "it's me— it's who I am."

"Maybe that's how it started," he suggested, "but you can't spend so long hunting someone without becoming a little obsessed with them— trust me, I would know."

You grimaced at him. "You— you can't be serious."

"Who will you be without me to chase?" he pressed anyways, matching some of your anger as he stepped closer again— almost too close. "Without this... passion, between us?"

"Don't step any closer," you warned.

"Or what?" he challenged. "No weapons, no soldiers— it's just the two of us here."

He stepped up again, nearly pressed against you, and you couldn't let him get away with that... you had to prove you meant what you said. You weren't armed, and you knew he wasn't someone you wanted to go up against hand-to-hand... but at the same time, it was one thing you'd always secretly wished for. A chance to wage this war the way it should be, the way it had always been: personal.

You stepped back at the same time as you swung your fist, giving yourself just enough room to gain momentum— but you weren't quite fast enough, and he blocked you. From then on it was fast, instinctual: he was stronger but you were quicker, and on the offensive.

You never quite landed a hit, but neither did he— which felt like a good sign, until you realized he wasn't really giving it his all. Dodging and blocking, yes, but he wasn't trying to win, just keep you at bay.

"Come on!" you yelled in frustration as you finally got in a kick to his chest, forcing him to stumble back and nearly fall. "What are you doing, pitying me?"

"Hardly," he wheezed, a little affected by the hit, which made you smirk. "But I don't want to hurt you."

"Please," you rolled your eyes, putting your fists up and stabilizing your posture. "If we're going to do this, let's do it right."

He came at you, and finally, there it was... his real strength. That passion he'd been talking about, you could feel it.

Both of you were flushed and panting, exhilarated by the sport of it all. Unfortunately, right as you thought you'd found your moment— the weak spot in his form— it was a trap. When you moved in closer, he grabbed you and spun you around, holding your back against his chest so tight that you struggled to breathe.

But he didn't shove you down, didn't put you in a chokehold, didn't even threaten you or gloat about pinning you. Instead, he only held you tighter, and soothed you with a gentle 'shh' in your ear when you tried to squirm out of his grasp.

"Wh-what are you doing?" you whispered, your whole body shaking as he ran his tongue up your neck.

"If it's curiosity that brought you here," he purred in response, "I can satisfy that."

"You can't be fffucking serious," you hissed, though a moan tainted your words as one of his hands ran down your body, the other still effortlessly holding you still.

"I know you so well," he went on, a deep growl in his voice as your eyes fell shut. "I know how lonely you must be. That's one of the things we share."

His hand was heavy and warm against your leg, even through your pants— and it was moving higher, petting your inner thigh as you shivered.  Though your mind longed to resist him, your body was desperate for any affection; because he was right, you were lonely.  You couldn’t think of the last time someone had touched you like this, and yet you remembered it didn’t usually feel this good.  His touch was precise and careful and teasing— not too awkward but not too cocky.  And the heat of him wrapped around you, his hot breath on your shoulder, his wider form encompassing you… how could it feel so good?

“And I know you’ve thought about this,” he added.  “That’s something we share, too.”

He couldn’t know that— he might be rich and resourceful, but he wasn’t omniscient.  If you were any more logical in that moment, you would’ve realized he was just guessing and denied it.  But his teeth brushing over your pulse didn’t exactly provoke your critical thinking skills.  “Fuck, I— fuck,” you choked out instead, shuddering when he chuckled proudly.

“You might hate me, draga, but you need me,” he explained.  “Your mind needs me, just as much as your body does.”

Something about the way his fingers traced up your side, teasing your breast before pulling away right before getting to anything too exciting… it seemed to bring you back to reality, at least partially.  You absolutely couldn’t do this— you couldn’t let him do this.  “G-get off me,” you choked out, struggling against him again.

“That’s what you want?” he taunted.

“Get the fuck off me!” you yelped.

“Make me,” he challenged.

Bringing your foot down hard on top of his, he winced and you managed to break away, spinning around and shoving him back— he actually lost his balance that time, falling to the floor.  You were ready to deliver a firm and swift kick between his legs, but rolled over and grabbed your leg while it was up, bringing you down to the floor with him.

He laughed breathlessly, sounding a little frustrated, as you flailed for purchase against the floor— only for him to grab your wrists and pin you down, positioning himself over you with a grin.  His hair was shaken out of its style, hanging around his face which was flushed from exertion.  “You keep me on my toes, I’ll give you that,” he offered.  You tried to writhe again but he had you properly trapped now, with absolutely no way out.

“You wouldn’t,” you sneered incredulously.

“Wouldn’t what, dear?”

“You wouldn’t force yourself on me,” you completed.

He seemed a little surprised, hanging his head and shaking it.  “Oh,” he breathed, “no, I wouldn’t.”

A little relieved, you started to catch your breath.

“I don’t need to.”

He brought his lips down to yours suddenly— the collision was almost too rough, and yet it was the only thing that made sense for the two of you.  You groaned in protest yet submitted instantly, opening your mouth wide for his desperate and dominating kiss.

Your back arched up off the floor, and his weight seemed to sink down on top of you in response.  Though you hated yourself for it, you spread your legs a bit, just enough for him to rest his hips between— and fuck, you could feel it.  The hard, throbbing heat, you could feel it pressed against you and the most horrible moan was nearly lost to his lips.

He hummed back proudly, running his hands over your body, kissing you faster.

You were gasping for breath when he broke away, which only worsened when he latched onto your neck.  “God, I hate you,” you blurted out, just to remind you both that if this was going to happen, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“You hate me for all those times I embarrassed you?” he assumed, hands holding your waist and starting to slide up your shirt.  “For when I eluded you, wasted your time, made a fool of you?”

“And that time you shot me.”

“I winged you,” he corrected— like that was any better.

He tugged your shirt up and you raised your arms, letting him slip it off; he spotted the scar right away, a line across your arm just under your shoulder.  He cooed for a second before kissing it softly— too gentle a moment for you to let lie.  You shoved his jacket back next, helping him slip it off his shoulders before pulling him down to kiss you again.

Your sports bra had a clasp in the front, it was a bit unique in that way, yet he had no trouble with it.  Freeing your chest, he of course had to tease you a bit more— instead of groping your waiting breasts right away, he guided your arms down from where they held onto the back of his neck, lifting you up from the floor a bit so you could slide the garment off and toss it away.  

When you laid back down, the floor was cold, but the hiss you let out was more a response to him rocking his hips against you, teasing you through these stupid remaining clothes.  “You know why I hate you?” he returned as he started to unbutton your pants, even though you’d entirely forgotten that last part of the conversation.

Before he answered the question, he yanked your pants and underwear down to your thighs— and swiftly got his own out of the way.  Your heart raced; you weren’t totally convinced this was really happening, not until he pushed into you in one painfully sudden thrust.  You cried out, yet he took no mercy on you.  He was ruthless, in fact.

Choking on your broken cries, you arched up off the floor again as he hammered into you, rage and relief and desperation evident in every movement.  He had to hold your legs tightly just to keep you from sliding across the floor, which only ensured you took every stroke as deep as it could go— which was already too fucking deep.

“Say it,” he ordered, “tell me why I hate you.”

“I caught you,” you said— but you knew that would just make him angrier.  Maybe that was kind of the idea.

Stopping just long enough to tug your pants the rest of the way off— and leaving you naked while he was still mostly dressed— he descended over you and looked right at you, far too close, with a rageful stare.

“You trapped me,” he corrected gruffly.  “You played dirty.”

Before you had a chance to retort that all’s fair in love and war, he started to pound into you… harder and meaner than ever.  You didn’t surprise yourself by crying out, considering how intense and nearly painful the feeling was, but you were a little confused that the word you said was a needy yes!

"Those years in prison," he snarled, "you could barely call it living, life in that place— you put me there. I thought every day about how you put me there."

He yanked your hair, making you whine loudly and exposing your neck for his lips and teeth to explore freely.  

Finally, a hand latched onto your chest— a hot palm encompassing your breast and skilled fingers pinching lightly at your nipple.  You couldn’t believe how composed he was through all this— in many ways, he wasn’t, but he seemed to be deliberate with every way he touched you and that was far more togetherness than you had.

You weren’t together at all, actually… something about the heat of the moment, the way your body responded to him, the way he glared at you… you could already feel tension building inside you.  It wouldn’t be long, not if he kept going like this.

“I thought about you every fucking day, draga— that you were free, and I was trapped in that cell,” he growled.  “You missed it, didn’t you?  Chasing me.”

When you didn’t answer, he struck you across the face with the back of his hand; the shock of it made your walls clench on him, or at least you could blame it on that, but you had no way to explain the way you moaned a moment later.

He moved even faster, a sickening wet sound echoing through the room which you hated to acknowledge was your own body.  “The worse I am to you, the wetter you get,” he noticed, smiling for just a moment.  “What a filthy whore you are.”

“F-fuck you,” you stammered roughly.

“Actually, why don’t you?” he offered, grabbing you by the hips and rolling both of you over until he was on his back and you were straddling him.  “Show me how bad you need it.”

As much as you wanted to not do what he told you, your hips were already moving— your body was on its own mission now, desperate for pleasure and friction and heat.  Desperate for anything he would give.  You whimpered as you grinded down on him, feeling his cock go so much deeper than you imagined was possible.  “God,” you sobbed, tossing your head back and trying not to picture the way he must have been looking at you then.

His hands moved all over you, up your thighs and over your breasts, even wrapping around your neck once though they didn’t put on enough pressure to really choke you.  “Pretty girl,” he praised darkly, making chills dance over your skin.

But when his hands settled on your hips, trying to guide you the way he wanted, you’d had enough; you grabbed him at the wrists and leaned forward, pinning his hands beside his head.  He smirked up at you at first, but when you bounced your hips up and down while hovering over him, his eyes fell shut and he let out a deep groan.  “I’m close,” you panted sharply.

“You can make yourself come like this?” he realized, sounding a little impressed.  He opened his eyes and lifted his head for a moment to get a better look at you, before almost instantly giving up again and dropping his head back to the floor with a moan.  “Fine, take it— just take what you need, draga.”

You held tighter to his wrists, mostly to keep yourself stable, and you felt his own hands ball into fists as you bounced faster.  “Oh god, oh god, oh god— yes!” you yelped, legs quivering as it struck you.  It seemed to come and go so quickly, perhaps because your strength gave out halfway through and you felt weak and paralyzed.  It had been ages since you’d felt pleasure like that… actually you weren’t sure you’d ever felt pleasure like that, at least not so much all at once.

If only he were satisfied by that.  With your grip weakened, he easily pulled his hands away to wrap his arms around you, holding you tightly and bucking his hips up into you rapidly.

“Fuck, wait, s-slow down,” you panted, whining weakly as he shook his head against the crook of your neck.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” he purred.  “I won’t be able to slow down at all until you’re full of come, draga.  I want you dripping.”

You were all numb and limp now, so raw and sensitive inside— he put you on your back again and didn’t struggle at all to pull another orgasm from you.  The third, though, was a little more hard fought: he rubbed your clit with an almost painful amount of pressure, watching through dark eyes and with a sneering grin as you screamed and shivered.

“Not too loud, darling,” he warned, “the people in the streets might hear you, the window’s still open—”

“Fuck!” you shouted, high-pitched and shaky, and he covered your mouth with his other hand as he laid on you with a growl.

“Just one more, then I’ll fill you,” he promised.  “I only need to feel you come one more time.  You want a rest, don’t you?”

You nodded weakly, biting down on your shaking lip.

“Then give me what I want.”

Your final cry was stuttered and helpless, every final ounce of energy in your body being taken from you by the final forced peak of ecstasy.  But it wasn’t until you sighed out his name, barely audible under your breath, that he groaned against your neck and pumped himself deep inside you— every drop, leaving you full to the brim and then some.  

You didn’t even have the strength to hold onto him, but he held you far too tightly as if to make up for it, and didn’t let you go for quite some time.

It had only gotten darker and colder out, and the draft through the window eventually danced over your sweat-slickened skin.  When you shivered under him, Helmut lazily reached up to the couch nearby, pulling a throw blanket off of it and wrapping you both up in its soft embrace.  You sighed with relief from both the cold air and the hard floor, not even realizing you were falling asleep. 

Even when you woke up, you didn’t really notice that you’d been asleep— except that Helmut was gone, and the fireplace was going.  Sitting up as little as you could get away with to look for him— since moving at all was quite a task given how tired you were— you heard him coming around the corner and turned back to look at him.

He was in a robe now, and carrying two crystal glasses of water.  He smiled at you as he sat back down on the floor, laying beside you on the blanket and handing you your glass.  “Figured you would need this soon enough,” he explained with a soft voice as you sipped carefully at the water.  You weren���t really ready to talk to him yet, but you wanted to thank him for the water, so you just nodded and hoped that would get the point across.

The silence was probably only awkward for you— he seemed totally at peace, getting through most of his drink before setting it down on the floor and cuddling up to you again with a contented sigh.

You quietly drank the water, staring forward at the crackling fire, hardly believing where you were.  It actually sounded sort of romantic on paper: a dashing and wealthy older man, a penthouse apartment in a foreign city, a fire, a blanket, a crystal glass…

If it weren’t for the wanted terrorist, it might make for a good little fantasy.

Yet, you set your glass aside and laid back down with him.  He slipped an arm around you, holding your shoulder and petting it with his thumb, even kissing the side of your forehead sweetly.  “I don’t understand how you can… be like that,” you whispered, glancing down at his arm crossed over your chest.

“Not everyone is so afraid of their feelings as you are,” he countered, and you snorted a little.

“I’m not afraid of my feelings,” you denied half-heartedly.

“You’re afraid of me, then?” he wondered.

“Not… quite…” you murmured your answer, not even sure yourself what you felt.  “I mean, I drank the water, so—”

“I wondered if you would,” he laughed, “but I’m glad you did.”

“I mean, only half the glass, technically,” you noticed.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ve had enough,” he shrugged.

“Enough?” you chuckled.  “After that, half a glass of water is hardly enough.  I won’t be recovered until I have a protein-heavy meal and probably a couple painkillers— if I wanna, you know, sit or jog or whatever in the next few days.”

“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” he chuckled, “but I didn’t mean enough to recuperate.  I meant enough for you to sleep until we get there.”

“...what?” you asked, turning over your shoulder with knitted brows to look at him.

“If even you know where you’re going, you might find a way to get out is all,” he explained flippantly.

“What… what are you…?” you started, shaking your head— but it didn’t shake off that funny feeling, that heaviness in your head.

“You see, I did think about you every day in my cell,” he went on, “and I thought about how, someday, I would lock you away— so you’d know how it feels, to be a prisoner.”

Whimpering as realization dawned, you sat up quickly to try to fight whatever was in that water… but it only seemed to make it worse, spots forming in your vision like when you stand up too fast— except they didn’t fade, just multiplied.

“I’ll treat you much better than I was, though,” he assured, “in fact, I think you’ll be better off than you were before… you’ll be mine, draga.  No one else will ever see you again.”

You tried to speak but it wasn’t really coming together— you tried to push him away but you only limply held onto him, looking up at his eerily blank expression with your fading vision.  As it all turned to black, he caught your head before it hit the floor, cradling it rather tenderly before kissing your cheek.

“Now,” he whispered to you, though you couldn’t possibly hear it, “let’s get you cleaned up— the plane is waiting to take you to our new home.”

#baron zemo x reader #baron zemo smut #dark!zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #daniel bruhl smut #dark!zemo smut #helmut zemo dark fic #baron zemo dark fic #WELP. oops.

[mariaxxxxx]

The love you offer me (Zemo x Female Reader One-Shot)

Summary: Short stories of how Helmut J. Zemo destroyed his heart.

Warnings: 18+ sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, pussy eating, anguish, depression, separation, unprotected sex, cream pie, pregnancy, loss of a child, manipulation, abusive relationship.

A/N: English is not my mother tongue. I apologize for any errors.

Work count: 9.352

🟣 🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣 🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣 🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣

Helmut J. Zemo was like no one You had ever met before. Although he is a very vindictive man, he is actually the ultimate embodiment of manipulation, as he is able to carefully plan and execute every step necessary to accomplish his goals. Despite his intense behavior and capacity for extreme violence and destruction, Helmut possessed a more pleasant side to his personality. He was a family man, a loving companion, with a passion for collecting art and high-value cars, and even dancing in a nightclub.

Maybe it was his pleasant personality that led you to him in the first place. The charismatic, respectful and passionate Helmut Zemo who would never hurt You. Helmut is good, but not in the way everyone thinks. He's good at wooing you with expensive trips and gifts, good at making you scream his name on his private plane. He's good at taking you out of reality, destroying your mind when you're under him. He's good at making You beg to be ruined. He is good at adorning your neck and wrists with precious jewelry; he is good at kissing you and telling you how much he loves you. Zemo is everything.

Unfortunately, he was also good at breaking your heart into tiny pieces without any chance of concert. He was good, excellent and perfect in reducing You to nothing more than a broken doll.

(…)

You still remember the first time you saw him. You were a simple, new waitress at a nightclub in Madripoor. On your first day on the job, you were already cleaning tables, serving drinks and keeping the cash register full, even if it meant losing precious nights of sleep. You were more than grateful for that. Staying in Madripoor, in the upper city, was really expensive and after his father's death things really got difficult for his side. Unfortunately for him, his damned father had wiped out his bank accounts with gambling and drinking, leaving nothing but negative accounts. After burying them the bills arrived; rent electricity, food, and hospital and burial bills. You wouldn't be able to maintain everything with a simple part-time job and, to your delight, your colleague Nathan offered you the chance at employment.

It was a dangerous place indeed. With rude men, women of dubious reputation and corrupt foreigners, but the money at the end of the night made it all worth it. There was also protection exercised over site workers; it wasn't uncommon for a funny guy to try his luck by touching you under your skirt. You were a pretty and delicate little thing for the place and that attracted curious people as to why a pretty girl like You stopped in a place like that. Countless times Mark, the security guard, had to chase away mean men and jealous women to keep you alive.

One night, like any other, the most bizarre version of Charles' little angels you've ever seen appeared; the damned winter soldier, the smiling tiger and a man in a big fur coat. You thought it was fun. But confusion soon ensued at the scene when the Winter Soldier attacked some men, causing a general fight. You were hiding behind the counter when his gaze met yours. Maybe, if You weren't so enchanted by those damn eyes, you would have noticed the pain behind it. In an almost supernatural way, You struggled to keep your balance as he continued to stare in your direction.

The moment was interrupted with the departure of the three men and the news that the club would be closed for the rest of the night. The way home was strange, not to mention funny. His gaze never left your idle mind, sending shivers down your spine and contractions in your stomach. You remember finding him handsome and old, older than you, but that didn't matter after all he was beautiful. You slept that night with him in your head like a teenager discovering her first love.

A week later You found him while walking through the streets of the upper city carrying bags; You had received payment and decided to stock up on supplies at home by going to the market. You were distracted watching the ships parked at the pier that you didn't notice someone going in the same direction, they collided quickly and you didn't have time to stop it. You struggled to keep your balance, failing to fall to the floor with your bags. You opened your eyes, fighting the embarrassment, and saw some of your purchases scattered across the floor.

"Are you well?" A voice with a thick accent. You moved your head quickly ready to trash talk the man, but something stopped you.

There he was, the man from the nightclub, the one who would rip your heart out of your chest, at that time You didn't know. For some reason, you bit your tongue to avoid the curses and opened your mouth to show the most beautiful smile.

“I’m fine” You said as you stood up.

"He is sure? I am really sorry." He apologized again. You thought the attempt to alleviate all the embarrassment was cute.

With his help, you gathered up the fallen products on the floor, trying to ignore how his touch made your heart flutter as he handed you a can of peas. After making sure everything was collected, You turned on your heel about to leave. His hand held your forearm keeping you in place. The heat that came from his touch took you to heaven for a few brief minutes only to be replaced by a slight disappointment when he took it away.

You looked at him, trying to say something funny about the situation, anything that would make you seem less clumsy, but you couldn't. The brown eyes were looking at You. No, they were marking You. You couldn't move or speak.

"Everything is fine." You said after a long minute of silence. "Thank you for helping me."

“Let me do something to make up for this misfortune.” He said. “I can take her home. My car is parked right there.”

His cheeks heated at the tempting but dangerous proposition. Madripoor was a den of outlaws and fugitives. You wouldn't risk your safety with a stranger no matter how handsome he was.

“I prefer to walk.” You were definitely being petulant and he seemed amused by it.

“Stop being stubborn.” You didn't miss the authoritative tone in his voice. “You’re full of bags and you just got hurt. I just want to take care of You.”

“My parents taught me not to trust strangers.” You said amusingly. “But if it pleases you You can walk home with me.”

It wouldn't hurt to flirt a little; after all, you were young and single in front of a handsome man. Sometimes, you blamed your naivety for allowing yourself to be carried away so easily by him, being at the height of your youth and ready to experience all the good things in the world. You allowed yourself to be swept away with a simple bump into the curb. As you sunk into his smile, his hand brought you back to reality. A comforting touch on your arm and a friendly expression on your face.

"Let's go."

He walked you home and offered to even carry your bags. The path was filled with conversations.

“Are you from Madripoor?” You questioned.

"No." He said. “I'm here on business.”

“I saw you at the club the night the Winter Soldier showed up, but you looked different. You wore a funny coat.”

He let out a little laugh. Cute.

"Oh yeah." You rounded a corner. “I was helping an old friend.”

“You guys made a mess. We had to clean everything up the next morning.”

“Do you work at that place?” There was a hint of mockery in his voice and it bothered you briefly. It wasn't one of the best jobs in the world, but it was still a job and it paid all the bills.

"Yes." You said with a firm voice. “I work waiting tables, sometimes making drinks, sometimes cleaning and sometimes taking care of the cash register. I do everything."

“Do your parents allow you to work there?”

You looked at him, in disbelief to hear something so silly. You were young, but not too young to ask your parents for permission – if You still had them.

“My mother left when I was little and my father died.” You said. “But that doesn’t matter since I wouldn’t need their permission to work.”

"Of course not. You’re a big girl now and you can take care of yourself.”

If you were a little smarter at that time you would have been able to capture the tone of eroticism in his voice when he said those words, but at that moment you thought it was funny. The conversation was interrupted when you arrived at your residence. You stopped in front of your building and looked at it.

“Thanks for following along.”

“I must be grateful for allowing me to accompany you. It’s been so long since I’ve had a pretty girl by my side.” He winked and you smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up once again.

"You are very kind." His words came out as a whisper, even though it wasn't his intention.

He reached into his back pocket, took out a black cell phone and handed it to You.

“Write down your number.” He instructed. “I would like to talk to you more.”

You put your number on his cell phone, convincing yourself that this was all just a quick flirt with an older man. How wrong you were.

(...)

You underestimated how flirtatious and charming Helmut would be. You thought he would just take you to bed and disappear before dawn, but that wasn't what happened. You spent hours sharing text messages that would evolve into phone calls and, later, romantic dates. Days with him turned into weeks and, without warning, into months. He wasn't at all interested in fucking you and leaving, no, Helmut was different; he spoiled her with expensive dates and exorbitant gifts. Before you knew it, you were falling for him.

You had been dating for four months when he took you to bed for the first time. It was good, but clumsy and quick. Helmut made her cum that night, but he himself had finished quickly with just a few thrusts. You didn't mind finishing quickly since the man had brought a beautiful orgasm out of you with his fingers and tongue. In the eighth month, you and he made your relationship official. Helmut took you to a restaurant in the upper city. The food was good, the waiters were polite and the atmosphere was pleasant. He gave her a simple and delicate necklace; with a gold chain and a pendant with a design that resembled an H. You thought the H symbolized the initial of his name. He placed the necklace around your neck and stood in front of you to admire it. At that moment, you noticed emotions passing through your face, love, longing and sadness. He covered it up with a smile.

“Wear it always, my dear.” He said as he played with the pendant. “It would break my heart if You took it away.”

You wore that necklace without ever taking it off your neck. You were in love and would do anything to make him happy. What you didn't expect was to be fired from your job. When You demanded an explanation, your former boss just gave a disinterested shrug.

“Orders from above.”

Of course, the bastard wouldn't say anything more than that. In Madripoor, loudmouths didn't have happy endings. You returned home frustrated that night, wondering how you were going to support yourself now. You had no family or studies to guarantee you a good job, all that was left were part-time jobs and bars with a dubious reputation. Still, you needed to find something quickly, as the month would soon end and new bills would arrive.

When he got home, his cell phone beeped in his pocket with a new message from Helmut; the man who won a place in your heart in just a few weeks. The message only said that he would pick her up that night for a date. So authoritative You thought. Your current state didn't allow you to have fun, but you swallowed all your anguish to be with him. You might not have fallen in love so quickly if he was just attractive; a pretty European faces to look at on a sunny afternoon. Something superficial, like the designer handbags in the window that you wanted but would never have. Deep down, deep down, You knew there was something wrong with falling in love so quickly, but who could blame You? The man was simply perfect.

After reflecting for a moment, you walked to the bedroom to improve your swollen face from crying and look pretty for him. He showed up in his luxury car at the appointed time, Helmut was always so punctual. You sat down next to him and gave him a small peck.

"Where are we going?" You asked as you fastened your seatbelt.

"A surprise." He whispered with a false air of mystery.

Helmut took you to the pier that night where a huge white yacht was waiting for you.

“My god” You sighed as you came across the grandeur of the yacht. Helmut stood beside you, his hand on your waist guiding you inside.

“Come, I want to show you everything.”

He introduced you to the deck, the captain's cabin, the crew, the room you would share for the night. After the short tour You sat at a table set on the deck with exquisite dishes under the starlight.

“What a great surprise.” You said with a big smile. “I’ve never been on a boat before.”

“It saddens my heart. A girl like you deserves everything the world has to offer.”

When he tells you this your heart jumps out of your chest. After all, no one had ever loved you like this to the point of spoiling you with such beautiful things. The moment of joy was replaced with sudden distress as You, for the first time, realized the vast difference in social class between You. Helmut was a fit, cultured and rich man. You were just a young thing without a family, education or job.

“Helmut.” You started talking. “What will happen to us?”

“What do you mean, darling?” He asked with a slight tilt of his head.

“It’s just…” You took a deep breath. “...we've been dating for a few months and I...it's just...We're so different.”

“Oh, my dear I know I'm too old for You.”

You scolded yourself for not being good with words and causing that misunderstanding. You didn't want to hurt him, so you recanted as quickly as you could.

"It's not that." You said it too loudly. “It’s just that you’re so rich and I’m me. I don’t even have my job anymore.”

"I know." He raised the glass of white wine to his lips. “I asked them to fire you, I didn’t want you working in that dangerous place with men of ill repute.”

“Helmut!” You exclaimed indignantly. “I needed that job. How will I support myself?”

"I will take care of you." There was a wild gleam in his eyes as he said this.

Maybe it was passion speaking too loudly, but you didn't question him any further and just allowed yourself to be taken care of by him. You talk that night, there was no room for silence at that table. He told him his story; about Sokovia, the Avengers, the prison, about Sam and Bucky and how he was now an international fugitive. In normal situations, an abrupt reaction would be expected, but you didn't do it. At that point, You were sure that you loved this man and that he loved you to the point of trusting You so much to tell him all his problems. You comforted him as he told you about his family buried in the rubble of New Gadi after the Avengers battle and the killer robot, Ultron, created by them.

You smiled beside him as he recounted the antics of his son, Carl. You comforted him when he shared a close bond with his father. When he started talking about his late wife with so much love and devotion a spark lit in You because of the way he spoke; Helmut exercised such devotion over the woman that she could be his own private goddess. You saw the sadness, longing and love run through his eyes. You ignored the jealousy and resentment by convincing yourself that she was dead.

“So, you’re telling me to run away alongside you?” You ask in disbelief. You were sitting on the deck floor, your legs spread across his lap, his hands lightly brushing your skin.

"Yes." He says with a mischievous smile. “There is nothing for You here. Come with me and I will give you everything.”

You accepted the invitation as there was nothing for You in Madripoor.

You guys spent a week or two, you're not sure, on the yacht going from place to place across the ocean. You and him talked a lot, drank a lot and fucked a lot. To his surprise, Helmut took her to Germany. You disembarked from the yacht on a Sunday night. On the way to the hotel You tried not to show all your perplexity at being in a completely new place. You had never left Madripoor before. The biggest surprise was the hotel he chose. With a huge reception, golden pillars and employees who guided you to your hotel room.

"Did you like it?" Helmut asked.

You didn't make a point of answering right away, you were too busy, impressed by the large windows with a privileged view of the city.

“I loved it” You shouted while jumping up and down with joy. Helmut laughed behind You at your excitement.

“I’m going to draw a bath. Then let's get some sleep. Tomorrow we need to buy clothes for You.”

“Uhm.” You murmured, still impressed by the grandeur of that room.

With your crazy and sudden impulse to go after one of the most wanted men in the world You didn't have time to grab clothes. Helmut assured You that your belongings in the old apartment would be well taken care of and that the expenses left by You would be paid. Although you were sad to leave some gifts he gave you in his old apartment, he assured you that he would give you others. During the yacht trip, You didn't miss his clothes, preferring to wear his shirts; Helmut had a lot of fun with your lack of underwear and it allowed him to fuck you everywhere on that yacht.

“The bath is ready.” Helmut announced from the bathroom.

With a burst of joy, you went to the bathroom, which turned out to be even more elegant and sophisticated than the large windows. You liked it and quickly got used to that life.

(...)

The time with Helmut was funny, everything seemed to move so slowly. You stayed in Germany for a year and six months, settling in the city of Munich in a small village far from the big center surrounded by trees and stone roads. Helmut was kind to you and taught you to speak fluent German, to dance and differentiate between the different forks that were on the table. He instructed you to go back to studying, although it wasn't his wish, he enrolled you in a semester-long fine arts course at the University of Munich. You didn't hate art, but you didn't identify with it enough to study the subject.

In the end, despite yourself, you took the course and finished it with honors and letters of recommendation for internships in galleries. Helmut was proud and to congratulate you he presented you with a new wardrobe of haute couture clothes. Your stay in Germany ended with the authorities discovering your existence in the country. You and Helmut fled in the early hours of the morning, heading straight to the airport where his private jet was waiting for you.

“We’ll be fine, my dear.” He said while hugging You.

Leaving Germany was difficult, as you left behind a few friendships and opportunities for a bright future. But You consoled yourself by remembering that you were with him, by his side, and wherever Helmut took you You would be okay.

The next stop was in Spain, on one of the Balearic Islands, where a small but luxurious house was waiting for you. You settled in quickly and to your surprise Helmut introduced you to the Oeznik family butler, an old man with a great sense of humor and loyalty.

“We can have pizza today, Oeznik.” You said as you walked around the kitchen with bare feet carrying dishes from one place to another.

“You should eat something healthier, my lady. You young people love to eat junk.” Oeznik said, watching You walk from one side to the other. “You won’t like your choice.”

“He will like it.” You guaranteed it. “I’m going to order a pizza.”

Oeznik was right that Helmut wouldn't like the pizza.

“You don’t like that kind of thing.” Said Helmut with clear mockery in his voice as You placed the slice in front of him.

"I love pizza." You said, trying to hide your discomfort. “We eat a lot of that in Madripoor.”

“Well, I took you for pizza in Venice and you hated it.” Helmut said with nostalgia in his voice. “You said mixing tomato sauce and pasta was a crime against nature.”

It was the first time Helmut looked at You with dazed eyes. As if he was not seeing You, but seeing someone else.

“We never went to Italy, Helm.” You mutter.

Helmut blinks rapidly as if trying to get something out of his mind and smiles in your direction.

“Let’s eat the pizza, little dove.”

The nickname was new, You noticed. That night you ate the pizza reluctantly, because with each bite a bitter taste formed in your mouth.

In the following months, Helmut was a very generous man towards You. He gave you a luxury apartment in Ibiza, created a bank account with $3,000,000 so that You could have a good life in case he was arrested again and enrolled you, again, in another semester arts course. You took the course reluctantly, because you didn't identify with it, but it made you happy so you were happy, and you had the advantage of learning a new language; Helmut joked about how smart You were at learning new languages in such a short time. To his delight, the course ended in exactly four months. You and he celebrated with a candlelit dinner by the sea.

"Marry me?" Helmut asked with his knees on the floor and a diamond ring in his hand.

"Yes." You said in one breath.

“Baroness Zemo.” He said as he put the ring on her finger. “I will make you very happy, little dove.”

You hugged him, kissed him and swore your eternal love to him. After dinner he dragged you back home; you walked through the door holding each other without separating your lips from each other. One moment you were on the stairs and the next you were in the bedroom. In bed, with a shirtless Helmut on top of you. His clothes disappeared. His panties and bra were the only things covering his body. His hands were touching you, exploring his skin while his lips devoured yours. Helmut knew what he was doing. He was reducing you to dust.

His hand grabs your panties, his finger trailing down your covered slit. A wet spot made him smile proudly.

“Always so wet for me, my little dove.” He whispered in her ear. You tried not to think about how much that nickname bothered you, but to your delight his fingers began to trace circles around your clit. Erasing everything from your mind. “Do you like this, little dove? Do you like how I make you feel?”

The lack of response made him accelerate his movements. His head spun at the sensation. He was torturing You; The moisture in her panties increased, creating a slight discomfort with the contact between the wet fabric and the hot flesh.

"Answer me. Use the damn words, little dove.” His voice was deep, his accent stronger and more authoritative.

“Yes, Helmut.” You said. He kissed you, his tongue finding its way to his.

He pulled away, kissing his way down to her covered breasts where he nibbled on her right nipple through the lacy fabric. You moaned loudly at the stimulation. He bent down completely, with his head between his legs, freed himself from her completely soaked panties. He brought his face closer to her wet pussy, inhaling her scent. He traced a line between her folds, playing with her pussy. Lick after lick, Helmut placed his lips on her folds and began to suck her clit.

You screamed at the quick action and pleasure. His fingers teased your entrance, slowly massaging your arousal until he finally slipped one of them inside and then another. Helmut had deliciously large fingers, bigger than his own, and he reached the g-spot with flying colors. The way he moved them, with such agility, was breathtaking. The established rhythm was specular. His fingers pumped in and out of You while his tongue stimulated your clit, making You feel better than ever.

Suddenly, he lifted his face away from You, but his fingers kept moving inside. His lips glistened with a mixture of his own saliva and his arousal. That and the damn smile on his face made her belly tighten.

“Enjoy little dove.”

The tightness in his stomach intensified, a tingling started from the tips of his toes, went up his legs, going to his stomach causing an explosion of pure ecstasy. You felt his soul leave his body for a few seconds and return. You were stuck in your little world of satisfaction as Helmut got rid of his pants and underwear. He placed himself on top of you, both hands rested on the sides of his face. The feeling of his dick, dripping with pre-cum, made You look down.

Helmut had a dick that was large in length and thickness, half tilted to the right, white and with a reddish head with a drop of pre-cum leaking out. You reached out to his arm and touched him. His breath hitched as his palm closed around his member to stroke it. His thumb slipped on the tip, making his dick twitch in circles in his hand.

"Little Dove." He groaned,

Her hand trailed up and down, down and up, pumping him as he grew harder and wetter. It was gentle touches, but it was driving him crazy. After some more stimulation, Helmut moved his hand away and positioned himself at her entrance. He spread her legs, with his right hand guided his cock between her slit. A brief lapse of consciousness appeared in his brain as he remembered the lack of protection. You didn't use contraceptives, as Helmut thought they were a poison bomb, always preferring to use condoms.

“Helmut.” You said between moans. “The condom...”

“We don’t need her.” He said come in and cuddles.

You moaned loudly when you felt him inside you. The feeling of having him without the latex was simply sublime. With quick movements, the head of his dick reached her spongy spot. The sensation of it made your eyes roll back, electricity course through your body aware of what his cock was doing. His legs opened wider for him. You felt it everywhere. The deeper he went, the more pleasure you felt. His hands grab his hair, pulling it lightly into fists.

Like the popping of a bottle You have, once again, reached climax. You have never been so satisfied in your life. Helmut fucked you like there was no tomorrow. You felt him go faster, riding out his own release, and when he finally did, releasing all of his semen inside of You a name escaped his lips.

“Heike.” He said between whispers and moans.

Helmut pulled out of You and rolled onto his side, falling asleep. You remain in bed, rubbing your face with your hands, hurt from hearing him cry out for the dead woman as he spilled himself inside you. It was an unraveling feeling, as if strong waves flooded your heart with sadness and disappointment. You even tried to convince yourself that you heard wrong. It wasn't her name, You thought. Maybe, it was something in his mother tongue that resembled his name, maybe he just blurted it out in his frenzy, maybe he didn't love you that much and thought about his wife every time You shared a bed.

At that moment, You found yourself crying yourself to sleep at the possibility of Helmut thinking about his late wife every time he was with You.

(...)

Things were great for a while. Helmut spoiled you, your stay in Spain increased, the preparations for the wedding were almost ready and sex became constant. You memorized the things Helmut loved during sex. The way he moaned when You were on your knees with his dick in your mouth, massaging his balls. The way his eyebrows do when You ride him. You even noticed how quickly he finished when You let him eat his anus. So things were great, but there was still growing discomfort.

Helmut still moaned for Heike every time he came. You decide to pretend not to notice his late wife's name slip past his lips every time. You just hid in the bathroom, with the shower running and burst into tears. You never imagined that being by his side would have you competing for affection with a dead woman. After all, she was rotting underground, while You were there in the prime of your youth with all the love and affection to give. You just suppressed all those feelings and pretended everything was fine, pushing all those thoughts away and convincing yourself that he loved you. When you were convinced of this, you would take a long shower to hide your swollen face and leave the bathroom with a big smile.

The wedding took place in mid-July, the seventeenth to be exact. You exchanged your vows in a minimalist ceremony with the presence of Oeznik, a priest and a justice of the peace to establish the prenuptial agreements.

“I promise to love, respect you and make you happy for the rest of our lives.” Helmut recited the vows while placing the ring on her finger.

“I promise to love you, respect you and yours until death do us part.” You recited your vows when you put the ring on his finger.

“You can kiss the night.” Said the priest.

Helmut kissed you with so much passion that you truly believed again that he loved you. The party was held at home, a dinner between the two of you, just to celebrate the union of two souls. Due to his fugitive status, he was not allowed more than that.

Married life was easy. You instructed the servants how to take care of the house, you often went to the beauty salon to look beautiful and you had sex with your husband whenever asked. You could live like this for the rest of your life next to him if it weren't for Heike's growing presence in your lives. After being married for a while, being called Heike didn't just extend to bed, but to everyday life. The first time was during a walk through the streets of Barcelona.

“I love this coat.” You pointed to a window where a mannequin was dressed in a cloth coat with colorful abstract designs.

“It’s so messy.” He said. “I thought you liked more minimalist clothes.”

“Helmy.” You groaned. “I love messy clothes. What would our lives be without neon clothes and red boots?”

He laughed at your words and said something that would break your heart forever.

“You look so different, Heike.”

Your eyes burned into his dark ones, anger welled up inside You, ready to explode like a volcano. You let out a nervous sigh as you feel tears start to well up in your eyes. You try to swallow the solutions that reached your throat.

“I...” He starts to say, taking a step forward to take you in his arms, but you move away, shaking your head.

“No, don’t you dare apologize.”

You leave him standing on the sidewalk and run in the opposite direction, blending into the crowd. You spent the whole day on the streets trying to forget the humiliation and pain caused in your heart. After a long period of walking and reflection, you convince him that everything is fine and that he loved you for who you were. You came home at night and found him in the living room. Helmut walked up to You hoping to apologize.

"Everything is fine." You said.

You took one more look at him before going up to the bathroom and locking yourself in there. You turned on the shower and burst into tears and sobs. Deep down, you knew, you always knew. He didn't love you. He tried to turn You into his dead wife; with the art courses, the language classes, the new clothes, the strange nicknames. You were just a substitute, an object to replace what he had lost.

You took a long shower, got dressed in comfy pajamas, and did your nightly skin care routine. When going down the stairs that led to the room You found Helmut walking with a pizza box in his hand towards the stairs. He stopped and smiled when he saw you.

“I ordered pizza, my favorite.”

Oh! That nickname. It had been so long since he called you that.

"I like pizza." You whispered.

"I know." He responded equally in a whisper. “I want to spoil you tonight. I’ll start with the food.”

You smiled at his gesture. You sat by the fireplace where you ate pizza and wine, talked banal things and laughed at silly things. When they finished, Helmut took you to the bedroom where he mounted you and fucked you hard. When he came it was his name that left your lips, You were happy about that. It was his name he said and not hers, but his happiness was short-lived. For in his sleep Helmut cried out to her. By Heike.

You got up and walked to the bathroom where you cried through the night, returning to bed before sunrise. When the day started, You just went downstairs, smiled and shared breakfast next to him. He didn't bring it up and you pretended everything was fine. He still said her name at inopportune moments where you pretended not to hear. His trips to the bathroom at night were becoming more and more frequent.

(...)

You and Helmut migrated to another country. You didn't know the exact location, but according to Oeznik, you were close to what would have once been Sokovia. You have settled into an immense residence, with several bedrooms, bathrooms and living rooms worthy of the title of Baron. The property was large; surrounded by trees and high walls with large silver gates.

"It's so big!" You exclaimed as you got out of the car and came across the mansion. “I’ve never seen a house as big as this one.”

“It’s been in my family for generations.” Helmut said. “I had to rebuild it after the fall of Sokovia, but here we are. You need to see your new home, Baroness.”

Helmut guided you inside where a line of employees waited for you. He introduced you one by one and indicated their services.

“They are here to serve your Baroness.” He whispered in her ear. “I know you will be a great lady for this property.”

“Yes” You mumbled. “I’m going to be a good lady.”

You really were a good lady; The employees tolerated you and things went reasonably well. However, the comparisons with the old lady still echoed between the walls, although Oeznik tried to hold the servants' tongues, it was not uncommon. You heard whispers among them about how Mrs. Heike had more class, how Mrs. Heike knew the Baron's tastes, how Mrs. Heike was beautiful, just as Mrs. Heike had given birth to a healthy boy. You tried to persuade Helmut to fire them, but he disapproved saying how difficult it was to find trustworthy people with his current fugitive status, he said that the former employees were trustworthy and Sokovia's last legacy. You just accepted your situation by hiding in the bathroom every time you heard her name echo.

“What was she like?” You questioned Oeznik one day as you walked through the estate. You felt trapped inside the house and decided to walk a little, Oeznik offered to keep you company.

“Madam...” said the old man with a clear sign of reprimand.

“Everyone loved her.” A bitter taste formed in his mouth. “Please tell me about him.”

“She was pretty.” He started to say. “She had noble blood in her veins and class in her feet. Their marriage was arranged, like all Sokovian royal marriages, but it worked. The young Baron loved her as soon as he saw her.”

You felt your throat close and your stomach tighten with the jealousy that formed.

“Did Helmut love her?”

"Yes."

You felt her eyes burn. You didn't know why she felt this way now, You knew how important she had been, the most important in Helmut's life, and there You were, wallowing in her insecure questions. His body shuddered in the icy breeze.

“Do I look like her?”

You needed to sink even deeper with your damned questions, which you knew the answer to, but you needed to hear it from someone else to torture yourself even more.

“A little, ma’am.” Oeznik seemed hesitant to continue. “You have similar trajectories, I would say. The courses taken in Germany and Spain, the way he dresses and even the necklace around his neck, it was the same necklace that the young Baron of Heike wore when he made their courtship official. He also called her his little dove.”

You let out a nervous sigh, barely holding back the tears. You turn and walk quickly towards the house, leaving the old butler behind. You feel your heart slowly submerge under the waves of pain. Your nimble feet guide you to a familiar place, the bathroom. You pass through the long corridors and the employees who whisper about your deplorable state. Reaching the bathroom door was a relief, because as soon as you reached the door, tears fell from your eyes.

Your mind reflects on how, little by little, Helmut turned you into her. He instructed you to dress like her, to study like her, to be like her. You were just a clay doll in the hands of the skilled sculptor to be sculpted to his whim. You wanted to leave, get as far away from him as possible, but as you stood there, feeling your heart breaking, you realized you couldn't leave. The love you felt for him kept you together, even the mention of leaving him could open a wound in your soul that You were fighting to stop.

After the tears dried, You performed your usual ritual; shower, cleanse and go downstairs as if nothing was happening. As if your soul wasn't broken, your bones aching and your heart stabbed. You found Helmut in his office carrying papers back and forth. He smiled when he saw you and patted your thigh indicating for you to sit there. You sat up and snuggled in, placing your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his expensive cologne.

“Helmut.” You mumbled. "You love me?"

“Of course I love dove.” He kissed her forehead and turned his attention back to the papers.

Little dove, little dove, little dove, little dove, little dove. That word echoed in your ears and you bit your tongue to avoid crying.

The days passed quickly when You established a routine. You alternated between instructing the employees and paying attention to Helmut. Comparisons with the former lady seemed to have diminished drastically; Helmut no longer cried out to her in his dream, and the servants no longer whispered. You knew that there was a finger of the old butler behind this, but you chose to believe that it wasn't that. You preferred to believe that you had finally achieved your rightful place in Helmut's heart and the full respect of the employees. His trips to the bathroom no longer existed, that is, more or less. You no longer went to the bathroom to cry, but you often went to the bathroom to vomit.

It happened on a Saturday morning. You woke up early and left Helmut sleeping in bed, you walked to the kitchen to eat something since your stomach demanded food. You found a loaf of bread on the counter, when you put it in your mouth a wave of nausea came and you ran to the bathroom. After that morning you vomited for any nonsense.

"Enough." Helmut exclaimed when he saw you kneeling on the toilet putting out all the dinner. “We’re going to the doctor now.”

"It is not necessary." You said. "I am..."

You were interrupted by another wave of nausea where you let it all out again. The next day, the doctor came and diagnosed you with severe food poisoning; He recommended drinking plenty of fluids, avoiding heavy foods and using lactobacilli. You followed all the recommendations, but the nausea continued and with it came other symptoms; her blood pressure plummeted with every movement, her breasts felt like they wanted to explode, her period didn't start, the cramps kicked her ass and the fatigue was constant.

You spent half the day sleeping and the other half vomiting. It wasn't uncommon for Helmut to find you dozing in some corner of the house; You once dozed off while eating dinner. Helmut called the doctor again, this time; he diagnosed you with a virus. You constantly took anti-flu medications, drank lots of water and ate foods rich in fiber and vitamins. But the symptoms didn't go away at all. Helmut was visibly irritated by the doctor's incompetence in curing you.

On a Monday morning, you were in the kitchen devouring bread filled with ketchup and peanut butter; You had woken up that morning with a strange desire and decided to fulfill it, the crazy mixture proved to be delicious. A maid, named Jenna, found you in the kitchen eating your strange food.

"Madam." Greeted Jenna. “Can I help you with something?”

"Don't worry." You said with your mouth full. “I just felt like eating bread with ketchup and peanut butter. I must be going crazy, but this feels so good.”

“Are you having cravings?” The maid asked.

"Yes. Cravings, nausea, sleepiness and sore nipples. The doctor said it has a virus, but nothing is helping.”

You took a generous bite of your bread as Jenna seemed to ponder something.

“Did you take a pregnancy test?”

Her throat closed and you choked on a piece of bread stuck in your throat. Jenna ran to help you. You coughed, watered, and sniffled as you choked on the piece of dough. After the feeling passed, you looked at the maid in disbelief that she would suggest something so absurd.

"Do not say silly things. I can’t be pregnant.”

"Why not? She is a married woman. I'm sure the Baroness has been fulfilling her duties as a wife.”

Sex in your marriage was one thing You couldn't complain about. Helmut fucked you often and always ejaculated inside you; the use of condoms was no longer necessary. It wasn't in her plans to be a mother one day, but the idea of carrying a part of her and Helmut in her womb caused good feelings.

“Jenna.” You started talking. “I could go into town and buy some pregnancy tests.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Jenna brought five pregnancy tests from different brands. You used them all and to her surprise, all five gave a positive signal. You look down, moved by what you see and convinced yourself that you wanted this. With the tests in hand, You want this more than you could ever imagine. Your smile is dulled by the tears that fall silently on your features, You needed to tell him.

He loved you, the life you built together and he loved children. The loss of his son broke a part of him that he could never get over. Now, You had the chance to make him happy again, rebuild a new family. For hours, trapped in the bathroom, you try to gather the courage to tell him. Every time the time approached, you found excuses not to leave. But his plans were thwarted by a knock on the door.

“Little dove, are you there?” It was Helmut's voice behind the door. “Are you sick again? I will call the doctor.”

"No." You screamed, feeling despair flood your senses.

You didn't want him to find out like this, it wasn't fair. You would prepare a space moment where the news would be given and celebrated with kisses. You hide the pregnancy tests in a drawer full of towels and open the door to find him.

"Everything is fine?" He questioned worriedly.

“It’s okay” You reassured him. “Only one got sick quickly.”

“Come on, let’s get something to eat.” You followed him, dinner went well with conversations and jokes between you.

Keeping the secret proved difficult since every time you saw him you wanted to shout from the rooftops about your pregnancy. With Oeznik's help, you prepared a special night for you, complete with typical Sokovian food. It would be simple, Helmut would arrive at home at night where you would have dinner and then you would tell him the news. You took the day to take care of yourself, wanting to look pretty for him, you prepared your hair, did your nails and wore a beautiful purple dress, Helmut's favorite color.

You turned around to admire your appearance in the mirror, it looked beautiful. Her hands caressed her still unchanging stomach, feeling a mix of emotions for generating life in her womb. A silly smile formed on his lips as he imagined how good it would be to have a little boy or girl running down these long corridors with black hair and brown eyes like Helmut's. The feeling was interrupted by knocking on the door.

“Madam, the Baron has already arrived and is in his office.” It was Jenna. “Should I serve dinner?”

"Yes. Serve dinner and release other employees. I want to be alone with my husband today.”

Jenna left leaving You alone in the room. One last look at your reflection, You left the room heading towards the stairs. Your intention was to go to the dining room, but somehow You ended up passing through a door. Behind her were pictures, books and a large Persian rug. Adornments that probably dated back to the medieval age. The house was big and even after so long You hadn't seen all the rooms, it was not uncommon to get lost between the different doors that led to uninhabitable rooms.

Before You have the chance to turn around, voices reach your ears. The nature of the noises was obvious and, from the sounds, they were both having a serious conversation. You recognized Oeznik's soft voice followed by Helmut's Eastern European accented voice. You tried to find the source of the voice and came across a false wall with a vast view of Helmut's office, he and Oeznik seemed immersed in conversation.

"This is not right." Oeznik exclaimed.

You froze in your spot. The old butler never got excited, he always kept a soft and friendly voice. You decided to listen to more of the conversation.

“She is my wife.” Helmut said. “I will do whatever I want.”

“Turn her into the late Mrs. Zemo? For God's sake Helmut. This isn’t doing her any good, the employees comment on her constant trips to the bathroom to cry.”

You wanted to leave, get as far away from them as possible. But as you lay there, holding a piece of your heart, You realized you couldn't move.

“She is not Heike. She never will be.”

Every word that came out of his mouth was meant to hurt you whether intentionally or not. You held firm as you wanted to see where this would lead. You hear Helmut sigh and the echoing words break you forever.

“You have no idea how many times I imagined it was Heike next to me. How many times have I called for her. I almost asked if I could call her that, but instead I did it without permission. I never wanted her, not really. I just thought I would have another chance and I actually did; They are so similar physically and it was easy to compel her to do things that pleased me.”

Helmut was cruel. Helmut never loved You. He played with your heart for his own benefit. Deep down, you always knew, preferring to deceive yourself with small gestures of apology and accepting to play the role of the dead woman. He molded her like a little doll so she wouldn't be alone. He never saw you as a companion, a mind or a human being. You were just a substitute and the child You carried in your womb would soon play the role of the lost son.

A sudden pain hit his chest; his heart was no longer in place. The other times he broke your heart were nothing compared to this. The more his words stuck in her mind, the more intense the pain became. Waves of shock and grief hit his chest as You tried to process what was happening.

His feet retreat, your shaky legs failing as you try to move. One wrong move causes you to fall against a dresser that falls to the floor, causing a loud noise. You hear a surprised gasp from Helmut and, unfortunately for You, he emerges through a false door. With all the strength you have left, you turn to see him.

“Baby” You heard him whisper.

His eyes connect; he knew You had heard every word. His expression reflected the one You had when you heard them. The shock, the surprise and the sadness. He saw the pain on his face, the way you held on to a piece of furniture to keep from collapsing. A flash of regret ran through his eyes when he saw how you grabbed the necklace around his neck. The necklace that belonged to her, the damned Heike. The necklace that, even though he knew what it meant, never left his neck so as not to hurt him.

You lost yourself over the years to make him happy. You allowed yourself to have your heart crushed multiple times just to satisfy you and receive nothing but disappointment in return. He never cared about you and he would never care about the child that was forming in your womb.

“Let’s talk.” You heard him beg. “Let’s order pizza and talk about it.”

You didn't let out a tear when you heard his apology. You also didn't cry when you ripped the necklace from your neck and threw it towards him. You didn't cry when you went upstairs and locked yourself in your room. You didn't cry when Helmut desperately banged on the door clamoring for your attention. You didn't cry, not even when you made the decision to leave, packing all your clothes, shoes and jewelry in your suitcases ready to leave forever; You no longer cried for Helmut J. Zemo. He could go fuck himself for everything he caused you.

(…)

Waking up the next day was relatively easy. You got up, brushed your teeth, skin care routine, passport, suitcases and handbag with intimate items. Everything was in its right place. You closed your bags and left them next to the door. A quick look at the clock you had on your dresser indicating that it was not long before you left that place and never came back. You opened the bedroom door and allowed two servants to enter who took your bags.

“Put them in the car, boys.” You instructed.

"Yes ma'am." They said together leaving the room with their bags.

One last look at the room, You walked out the door heading towards the stairs. You found the bastard at the foot of the stairs waiting for you. He had a swollen face, indicative of a bad night's sleep, with messy hair, something so unusual for him. A part of You liked seeing him so broken. Helmut was selfish and evil. You put an end to his selfishness and evil.

"Let me pass." You demanded the moment he stood in front of you, blocking your exit.

“Please let me...”

“Whatever You have to say, I don’t want to hear it. Get out of my way let me go, stop being such an idiot.”

His own words surprised him. You never had the strength to face him, not really, nor to release the anguish you felt for so long. Your words were met with silence, none of You dared to speak. His breathing became heavy, after a few minutes, Helmut finally gave in and broke the silence.

"Sorry." He whispers.

“That doesn’t solve anything.” You snort.

"I know." he says. "Where are you going?"

Maybe it would be better to just turn around and walk away, before the conversation gets worse. That would have been the right thing to do. Unfortunately, the sadness was not motivated by reason.

“You are a patient and persistent man, I know you will figure it out on your own.”

"Do not go, please." He begged. "Please, do not go. Do not leave me alone. Stay. I will improve how I treat myself and I will never hurt you again. I love you dear."

On a normal day you'd go back to him for a lot less. A few days ago, you would have given him everything, without a doubt. But now, the devotion You had for him was buried. A high wall was built around his heart and not even the warmest words could break it down.

"Stay." He begged again. “It will be different.”

Helmut's love was strange. He appeared to be generous, but he was destructive and cruel. He never had anything to give you other than scraps; it was easy to let yourself be fooled with good charisma. A part, deep in his head, begged you to come back to him. But it wasn't fair to You to allow yourself to live all of this once again and it wouldn't be fair to the child You were carrying. Helmut was not worthy of You, he was not worthy of his son, he was not worthy of anything. You had to save yourself, You had to save what little was left of your heart.

"No."

With the final word You left without looking back. Carrying with him a son that Zemo wouldn't live with, he didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve anything that came from You. One day, with persistence, he would discover the existence of a child conceived by you, but it wouldn't be You who would tell. As the car drives, you lean your head against the window, caress your stomach and allow yourself to dream of a day that would open your heart again.

#helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #helmut zemo #zemo x reader #falcon and the winter soldier #fatws #zemo x you #marvel mcu #dark!fic #zemo

[addict-rat]

Night Ties

Summary: You were a very famous hunter monsters, one day you decide to go after a famous vampier, but he was very aware of that and he change all your life.

Paring: Helmut Zemo Vampire x F!Reader Human

Words count: 3595 words

Warnings: +18 explicit, mention of blood, poor written smut, p in v, spanks, unprotected sex, bitting, ropes, bondage, desk sex, a little CNC, bondage. fingering, dominant/submissive.

Author’s note: Holas, I was writting this long ago, but I kinda forget when I get obsses with Ch.ai and all that, but here it is, I might be writting more of Zemo in the future. Please feel free to write me for any mistake I made or any suggestion.

You had begun to make a name for yourself within the small towns that were frightened by all those over-natural beings. It was many of those people that lived dominated by supernatural beings, whether they were werewolves, witches, vampires, etc. However, among the people they were more feared and dominated by vampires and werewolves.

It was for that reason that you began to gain popularity, you were known as part of the good cause dedicated to killing or hunting such beings. Not only were you doing that, but they were very few, not many survived them, and for that very reason it was that very few wanted to take their lives to kill a few of them. The few people who did so had a reason to simply want to get rid of them.

You did it for revenge, your mother had been killed by one of them, all the people you lived in had been attacked by werewolves, but it was not them who killed your mother, you had managed to flee before they saw them. Deep in the woods when they thought the werewolves could no longer find them, they stayed for a moment near a river to grab strength and find safety, yet their mother heard noises in the distance, afraid that something might happen to you, I took her to a small cave near the river, told her to rest there and come out until there was sunlight. With the ingenuity of a child, he was obvious and did what I ask, when the light came out he called his mother without any answer from her, came out of the small cave, I looked for her by the gunmen until he found her pale and lifeless body.

She wasn’t looking to find the killers who killed her mother, because she knew she’d never find him, she knew it wasn’t human, what killed her, she knew it was what killed her, but again she wasn’t looking for her killer to never happen to anyone else. He was aware that he could not kill each of them, but with his perseverance and courage he could perhaps make more people unite and decide to end the dominance of these beings.

You had come to a small town where it was dominated by vampires, especially a special one. You knew how to deal with vampires, you’d learned from your group, they’d taught you their weaknesses especially. You could say that you were a little popular not only among humans but also within these "monsters", they had divided to hunt these vampires, it was expected that the majority lived in mansions or even castles, were arrogant and presumed most of them, but they were also intelligent, manipulative and persuasive.

You had decided to go ahead, you already had experience you did not believe that something could go wrong, so you had made a plan to get into that castle, which was simple, it was not like vampires had bodyguards or anything. They didn’t watch the whole castle, so you looked for a room that nobody had set foot in many years ago.

That’s how you ended up like this now, kneeling, your hands tied on a short chain that was stuck on the floor. You heard a few steps and saw a man dressed elegantly, his hair well-groomed. —What a foolish, hunter— he sneered, his voice echoing throughout the chamber. —I’m surprised you made it this far. You must be very brave or very dumb— You only stare at him as if you look could kill him. —Don't look at me like that, darling. Who are you to judge me? You are the one trespassing on my home. I could kill you right now for your insolence, if I so desired. But I feel... merciful— He say getting closer to him, in your position you have to look up to him, feeling like so insignificant in that position. —I don't know if you are brave or foolish, or just a bit of both— He was now very close to you, you feel his hand touching your cheek —You intrigue me.—

That took you for surprised other vampires they have just taken all your blood of your body and leave you completely drain. —How can I intrigue you? — Your voice sounds almost sarcastic, but there was confusion there. —Oh, little one, you’re so much more than “just a human”— He leans down and run a finger along your face, gently stroking your chin and jawline. —You have hunted my kind… Even I don’t really care about those ones, is really fascinating to see someone like you murdered that kind of vampires— He takes your chin tilting up so you can his eyes, his crimson red eyes, you could not deny that I cause you to send a chill in your spine. —But that doesn’t take the fact you’re very foolish to come to my home and try to kill me… You’re here not just by coincidence, I bring you here you alone… Ever since I found out about your existence, which wasn’t a year ago, I’ve been watching every step you take, every decision you make, piqued my curiosity, my dear… Of course I had to bring you here with me.—You feel his fingers caressing your chin as he doesn’t let you go, the two of them staring. —M-my friends… They know I’ll come here, they’ll get worried and they’ll come here to help me— Your voice trying sound convinced that they will come to rescue you. —Yes, they certainly would come here and try to rescue you… But let me ask you a question... Do you know how many hunters have entered my domain? How many have existed?… Like I told you, you’re here because I want you to be here alone, I know where your friends are, and I know who are with them, I can make your friends get killed right now, but I will not do that yet…—He says in a threatening voice —B-but there are a lot of people that know me… Th-they will get worried… And they know I’m here— You say with a desperation tone —Hmmm... I'm sure there are many that know you, yes. But what will they do about it, hmm? Come to my domain? The place where hunters never return from? I admire your courage, my love, but I do not think your "friends" are going to come rescue you... And talking about your friends, I know you love them because you see a family in them.— Your eyes get worried and surprised —What if we make a deal… You have two options, you can stay here and we both wait for your friends and I killed them one by one, slowly and painfully in front of you… Or you can save them by submitting to me and save them, but you have to behave or there will be punishments for you for your bad behavior… You’ll have to write a letter to your friends saying that you retired from vampire hunting, that you found love and now you’ll dedicate yourself to staying with him and pleasing him in all his spades… Now take your decision, but we don’t have all day, darling so you better hurry up— You couldn’t believe that not only he have trapped you, now you have to submit to him to save your friends, he’s using them to get you, and he’s achieved it. You don’t have any option. You regret coming alone and not waiting for others to accompany you.

He kneels before you, his head moves to your neck as you can feel his breath, he lift a trail of kiss on the side of your neck —Frist I want a little bite, I want to taste your sweet blood— his teeth and fangs brush in your neck, you can feel the sharp of his fangs on your neck, then you feel how his fangs they break through your skin, you bite your lip trying to not make any noise, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of the sound of your pain. He sucks your blood for a few minutes, you start looking dark circles as you feel more weak until you close your eyes and you remain unconscious.

When you wake up, you were laying on the ground, your hands remain tied, you tried to sit down but your body was so weak, you didn´t know how long you were there locked. You don’t have any other option, so you have to access his deal. He comes back after some time. —Did you take your decision?— He looks down at you, looking deep at your eyes, you only could nod —I’ll submit to you— Your eyes look down as you say that, he smiles at your choice, he kneels and take your chin looking at your eyes. —Good girl. I will untie you, I know you’re weak so you can’t attack me, even if you try you only have your hands to try it, darling.— He takes the handcuffs in your wrists, you don’t even try to do anything, he lifts you up in his shoulder, your tired eyes didn’t even look the way he is taking you, until you feel the soft mattress of the bed, after a few minutes you fall asleep.

You couldn’t believe after years of hunting and killing vampires you end up cleaning the castle of a vampire. You were walking in a corridor and open one of the rooms, you look around and see there were black curtains on the wall, that’s when you notice it wasn’t a wall is a window, you open the curtain and you realize it wasn’t evening yet, you calculated around 4 or 5 pm, that means the sun was still up. You haven’t noticed the time until right now, and after Zemo wasn’t around, you could escape you have a few hours before the sun sets.

You didn’t take too much to find a door that leads to the yard, and for your luck it wasn’t locked. You open the door and go out, you see your surroundings and walk through the yard, it didn’t take you long to arrive in the forest that surrounded the castle, you walk with joy to the forest, without noticing there were two deep eyes looking you walk in the forest.

One of Zemo’s butler have notified about your “escape”. —My Lord, the lady has run away to the forest alone, I think she’s trying to escape, but I don’t think she might go too far after the sun sets… I know the forest is very tricky for someone doesn’t know it— Of course Zemo knows the forest like the palm of his hand.

Zemo looks up at the butler with a sharp look. —Very good, I'll take care of it.— He says, as he stands up from his desk. —Thank you for the information.— Once the butler leaves, Zemo smiles slightly to himself. —Run away, have you, my love? So eager for danger, eh?— He thinks for himself looking at the window of his room.

When the sun went down, Zemo went out to look for you soon enough to find you, you were lost and your solution was to climb a tree to the top and see from above, which clearly did not work and only served to stay trapped in one of the branches, you couldn’t get off and you probably stayed there for a few minutes until I found you —Do you know what a stubborn and foolish creature you truly are, my love? — He gets close to you, but he did nothing to help you. —Can you help me please, sir? — You didn’t have any other option but plead for his help. His cold, dark eyes look down at you. —Why should I help you? You were so eager to leave. To run away. To defy me. And yet now, when you are caught, you beg me for help?— You weren’t in a position to act up and try to get the worst out of him —Don't worry dear, I already have an idea of what to do with you…– You watch him walk away, he didn't come back after some minutes, you were scared and cold, you couldn't see anything in the darkness of the night.—

Of course, he leave you in the damn tree for a few hours and then one of his servants brings you back to your room. You wake up in your bed, one of the servants enters after some minutes to your room, he was very nice to you, he serves you food and make sure you weren’t hurt last night. Until he mention that Zemo wanted to see you in his room after you have eaten, your face goes pale you know the reason why he wanted to see you.

You finish your food and get dressed before to go to Zemo’s room, with a soft knock at the door you make your presence noticeable to him, you heard him talk in the inside of the room, you open the door and Zemo look up to you to meet your gaze. –Do you want to see me, sir? – You asked when you enter into the room –Yes come here, darling– You obey and stand closer to him, he stands up from his chair behind the desk –So, darling… You have a bad behaviour last night, and you know the consequences of your bad behaviour– He moves behind you while he talks, you softly nod when he finishes, feeling his hands on your hips caressing slowly you feel your cheeks getting hot, you couldn't help but bite your lip when you feel his lips brushing your neck, leaving light kisses, You bite your lip as he moves closer to that sensitive spot on your neck, his kisses getting more longer as he was close to that sensitive spot, you almost moan when you know he was about to kiss you there but instead he pats your hips lightly and pull away slightly. –This is a punishment, my dear. I know you're enjoying this and maybe you get a little more if you behave after your punishment… Now bend over the desk. – He says in a commanding tone, you didn't hesitate and do it, one of his hands move to tease your legs, his fingers brushing your thighs lifting slowly the hem of your dress, your face now red for the situation, he saw the way you press your thighs together, his fingers move to pull down your panties slowly until the small fabric falls on the floor.

—Such a pretty thing… See how obedient you can be— You bite your lip when his hand starts to caress your ass cheek, in the unexpected moment he slaps your ass a little to hard to make you moan, Zemo smirk when he gets a reaction from you. You heard one of the drawers open, you couldn’t see what is going on, you just wait impatiently. Then you feel his hands covered in the gloves of leather caressing your thighs –Oh darling we gonna have so much fun– he leans closer to you in a soft whisper, his hot breath against your ear, as you feel his grown erection inside your ass —I want you to count this one, I want you to count 20 and then I’ll stop, but if you don't say it loudly and right I’m gonna start again. — He pulls away and his hand caresses your ass cheek with the glove leather then again he slaps your ass, the leather makes your soft skin sting —O-one… — a soft moan come out of your mouth.

The slaps get even harder when the number gets higher, making you more difficult to count right —I didn't hear you right, sweetheart he has to start again… — You were for the 17 slap after start over 3 times, his slaps get harder every time you make him repeat.

After several times, you finally reach to 20, you couldn’t believe how much your ass sting and hurt, you didn't have to look to see how red it was, as you couldn't believe how wet your inner thighs and folds were, you don't want to admit how turn it on you have get when he spanks you. Zemo look at you with satisfaction, he leans closer to you, a soft moan leaves your lips when you feel the rough fabric of leather caressing your inner thighs —Such a good girl… Already so wet for me, that was supposed to be a punishment not for you to enjoy— He chuckled softly, his hands moving to your wet folds, a soft moan leaves your lips as you feel his finger teasing your folds to your clit making slow circles, making you squirm under him, with a warning he push two of his fingers deep inside of you the leather glove makes his finger more thick, he moves his hands in a slow pace, he was enjoying the way you squirm under him, your little whimpers and moans. —You're so responsive— he murmurs, his voice dark and seductive. —I can feel every pulse, every quiver. You belong to me now, don't you? — His voice possessive close to your ear in a whisper —Y-yes, I’m yours… — You whine, you were so close to your orgasm. —That's what I want to hear— he says, pushing another digit inside you. —You're mine and you'll do as I say. — His fingers thrust into you in a faster pace, filling you up completely.

—You’ll cum when I say you can— With that he continues to finger you, his other hand moves closer to your clit, his fingers start rubbing that sensitive nub. Your walls squeezing his fingers as you were trying to not cum in his hand, not until he tells you that you can. You squirm and beg for him to let you come.

—Cum for me, sweetheart… Cum around my fingers. — And you did, you cum around his fingers with a loud cry, he continue milking your organs moving his fingers in and out while he continues rubbing your clit. He stops when you finally finish your orgasm, he withdraw his fingers slowly, a soft whine comes out of your mouth.

You close your eyes for a few seconds trying to get your breath –Don’t fall asleep already, sweetheart… I'm not close to finish with you. – You try to turn to look at him when you feel the tip of his cock on your swollen folds, he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pushed into you, filling you up with his length. You only could moan loudly and squirm under him. Your tightness around him felt incredible as he began to thrust slowly, taking his time to stretch you out. —So tight and warm for me… — His lips curled into a smile as he felt your pussy clench around his cock. He increased his pace, thrusting harder and faster. The sounds of their bodies slapping together filled the room, punctuated by your moans and gasps of pleasure. You don't want to admit it, but he was making you feel the pleasure you never though you could get. Zemo moves to kiss your neck and shoulders as he continues thrusting in you in a rough pace, his grip on your hips was strong, that's gonna leave you bruises the next day. You cry louder when you feel his fangs break the skin in your shoulder, taking your blood. —So sweet and all mine— he whisper on your ear after take some blood of your body, his hand move to your clit, he moan when he feel your inner walls clenching around his cock, he pick more faster and rougher the pace, you can feel the tip of his cock hitting om your cervix, making you squirm under him, you didn't even think straight in that moment he was fucking you deep and senses that you only moan and whimper, you have lost the count of how many times he had make you cum.

Seeing you all ruin for the pleasure just arouse more Zemo, he grabs your face making you to face him and he takes you in a messy kiss, with a deep thrust his cum inside of you filling you up with his warm seed.

Zemo stays inside of you for a few seconds as he catches his breath, you were laying on his desk, blushing and panting, he pulls out of you, his seed come out of your swollen pussy, dripping on your thighs and floor, your red ass checks just give him the imagination of you that he wants —What a messy girl you are, What you're “fans” will think of you? Their little hunter here on my desk all marked by me, you don't want they find out the truth about you? That you enjoy being my little maid and warm my bed. Don't worry, my love that's not gonna happen, because you're mine and you will stay here by my side—

You try to run away a few more times, but the punishment gets even worse with the time that you start to get used to stay around him, you even start to crave for his touch and his sweet words, you fall in love with him, and now you were tied to him for the rest of your life.

#fanfic #zemo x y/n #baron zemo x reader smut #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo #marvel #smut #zemo x you smut #zemo x reader smut #baron zemo #female reader #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel brühl #vampire #vampire zemo #dark!fic #dark!zemo #dark!helmut zemo x reader

[punemy-spotted]

Iris - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie

Pairing: SoftDark!Devil!Helmut Zemo x Sky-Captain!Reader

Warnings: Cosmic Horror; Dubious Consent; Dubious Morality; Estranged Relationship; Zemo and Reader are not in the Good Place; THIS IS A HORROR FIC; Soul Stealing; Incredibly Loose Relationship with Physics; This is a Fallen London x Marvel Crossover Moment; There are Space Bees; And Giant Lovestruck Space Crabs; Violence; Murder; Death; Poison; At Least One Reference to a Garrote; Estranged Relationship; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY AND IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT THAT IS BEING PRESENTED, PLEASE DO NOT READ

Chapter Summary: Sokovia rose, then fell, and then rose again. And now the stars will never be the same.

Notes: Hi, welcome, I really wanted to write an MCU crossover with the Fallen London 'verse so here we are. Imagine House of M except Wanda Maximoff became an actual factual God and it actually wasn't that bad after all. And now imagine all of that is background noise in favor of one unhinged Devil and one overly hinged Epistolarian. An Intrepid Epistolarian.

Oh also Wanda's waging war against Queen Victoria. It's fine.

For those of you who have read my other Zemo fics, finished and unfinished, if you notice similarities between this fic and the other ones... yes. I am Frankenstein trying to raise this fanfiction monster and put scenes, passages, and themes to better use than languishing in my Ao3/Tumblr cupboard. (Also if you've read my other fics, hi, hello, I love you.)

I crave feedback, so tell me what you think!

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

The First taught Restraint, and the Second Betrayed. The Third taught us Hunger and the Fourth we Remade. The Fifth will live on in the Heart of the Sun but the Sixth did quickly Fade. The Seventh City will never Fall, never ending the Deal we made.

She kept some of the old names when she took this place, you know. Built onto it, even when her Renewed Empress had to bend the knee to the Scarlet One, sealed away in her undying mausoleum.

The Proclaimers of the Cult of the Sanctified, still seated at the Avid Horizon’s High Gate and whispering Truths to their counterparts on the other side, were right — the Seventh City would never fall; the Bazaar would never be compelled to deliver that fatal missive to that Beacon of Bright Betrayal it loved so much; there would be no opportunity to argue that Seven Cities worth of love is proof enough of Her Worthy Love.

If there is one thing you know about opportunities, it is that they are also opportunities to fail.

The long tradition of the Duchy of Sokovia — that Bulwark which once stood the test of time against even the Tsars of Russia — is not what it once was. There is, in fact, no such thing as Sokovia now, not the way you would think. There are Sokovian people, clinging to an identity lest it be lost in the abyss below, but all that remains of the Earthly land which remembered the Duchy’s history with the joint Empires of Austria and Hungary is now nothing more than a chasm of stone and steel.

A monument to violent delights in want of violent ends.

Cast your eyes not to the ruins of her past but to the gleaming future written in the stars ab—

The sound of a train whistle drowns out what remains of the tinned announcement, an earsplitting shriek you endure for what feels like forever, but is in fact — if the clock before you is accurate — no more than two minutes. Which — as it turns out — is plenty of time to interrupt the announcement’s conclusion and leave ringing silence in its wake.

Good. You were rather tired of hearing your own voice drone on any longer.

You turn your head away from the train schedule you had previously been pretending to occupy your mind with, watching the rails with mild impatience and fidgeting with your gloves.

He is late.

It’s not abnormal, really, for the more independent locomotives — those not on the Scarlet Empress’s own payroll, that is — to run on their own definition of time, but you’ve never known your contact to be anything more than a man of his word.

When you’ve properly interpreted his words, that is.

No matter. You have the luxury of time. Collecting your luggage takes little effort — a rather bulging handbag and a briefcase is not so terrible compared to the crates of fuel, souls, and hours you see being carted around you — as you step briskly towards the more busting central parts of port. The station itself has seen better days, almost empty save for a handful of dock-workers and the occasional Employee making sure the schedule runs on time, but as you pass through an open archway into the city proper, they seem eager to resume whatever activity they might otherwise have abandoned for your intrusive presence.

NORTH.

How did it happen? Was it prophecy — or maybe some mad interpretation of the scream-whispers of Distant Polythreme, a vision of the Garden — that led the Proclaimers to make their rhyme, completing the riddle and speaking for the Masters themselves?

Something must have rung true to the Masters, for them to solve the riddle.

Novi Grad rose, then fell. Fell until it could fall no further, until there was nothing left of decades of history but ash and blood for the ghosts of her denizens to wander through. Until there was nothing for the Masters and their bats to drag to cavernous depths.

So she, in her infinite tragedy and infinite pain, became the solution.

Your tea, madame. You look up from your scribbling absently, glancing briefly up at the server and then feeling your polite smile immediately fade off your face.

Must you always play games?

Helmut Zemo stands before you with a perfectly placid smile on his cruelly handsome face, So lovely to see you again, sweetling, and you’re quite welcome for the tea.

You narrowly avoid the temptation to roll your eyes, closing your journal and placing the cap on your pen, its nib glimmering venomously in the candlelight, You are late. A casual accusation, one he dismisses with an easy wave of his hand, just before seating himself before you and stealing a biscuit from your place.

And you are impatient. Surely this must mean you have missed me, little bird. If he notices the way you flinch at the sweetname, struggling to compose yourself before you manage to settle on sternness, he does not say.

You have faced worse things than Helmut Zemo, you know. Worse than the ache that slices through your heart when you look at him and his easy smile, the one you might have fallen in love with once again, if you forgot yourself.

You will not.

Instead, you breathe, letting the heavy air in your lungs out slowly as you tug the fingers of your glove until the whole thing is loose enough to be removed entirely.

You always hated getting biscuit crumbs on your whisper-satin fineries.

You asked me to meet you here, Helmut, a fact which he seems to dismiss with another too-sharp smile, eyes flickering over you.

It burns. Licking over the neckline of your dress before moving down to the delicate pearl buttons that hold shut your bodice, heat rising over the thin lace collar wrapped around your throat, and you wonder idly how often he fines pleasure in watching people struggle to breathe and die.

I’m told you have been busy, he tells you flatly, practiced hand snapping his biscuit in half before dipping one perfect semi-circle into the cup of tea he’d placed in front of you, Too busy, it seems, to inform your husband of your whereabouts.

The knifeblade edge of his voice is enough, slipping past the plates of armor you always try to wrap around yourself every time you agree to meet him, his joyless smile the barbs he leaves in your heart, ensuring it will bleed for him for a few months more after your eventual parting.

The first time he’d touched your cheek in the shadow of a clockwork sun while you wept, his lips ghosting  your skin, you nearly fell to your knees at his feet.

That should have been the last time you would ever see him, as he whispered sweet nothings and sweeter promises in a language you did not speak, burning intention into your skin and leaving you forever bound, words falling from his lips like a waterfall.

The third time you met Helmut Zemo, you cried. And the fourth. And the fifth.

You refuse to meet his eyes, smoothing out the wrinkles in your gown with trembling hands, Is this what you came to remind me?

He does not stop smiling, even as you make note of the uneasy tension sitting on his shoulders, the vicious gleam in his eyes as he continues his visual examination of your countenance, tea soaked biscuit melting idly on his tongue.

Yes, it is.

You should be grateful for his honesty — Devils rarely are, after all.

He continues before you have a chance to consider it, How much farther do you plan to run from this place, sweetling, before time returns you back to me?

You wish he wouldn’t call you sweetling.

You haven’t been sweet in a thousand years.

But that’s beside the point, isn’t it? He already knows that, anyway.

Though you suppose that maybe you ought to tell him about something he doesn’t know.

Why did you call me here, Helmut?

Why does any man call his wife back to the port where they parted last? I missed you.

You swallow thickly, avoiding the unyielding blade of his sharp-eyed gaze and even sharper smile, refusing to let your heart leap out to him as it aches to do, You are lying, Helmut, you accuse, pretending to busy yourself with the biscuits he brought to your table.

As always, as you should have expected, he only grins at you — a cruel, twisted grimace that makes your stomach twist not-wholly-unpleasantly — before reaching out and brushing his knuckles over your cheek, Would you let me lie, little bird?

I certainly hope you don’t expect an honest answer to that question.

His laugh is as sharp as his smile, a huff of bemusement you recall bringing you happiness before, a long time ago.

Now it reminds you of the taste of poison, of bile curling in the back of your throat, of blood and metal and the screaming agony of time stretched to its very limit.

The silence too, stretches between you, taut as the wires you would wrap around your palms to cut through cheese and impertinent throats, waiting for you to finally surrender and rise to your feet, gather your things and bid him as formal a goodbye as you’ll allow yourself — always just out of reach, I have no intention of playing games, Helmut, you challenge with the same tone of voice you might use to scold the Empress’s misbehaving sons, If you refuse to do me the courtesy of your honest, then do me the gift of your absence.

He watches you, eyes glimmering amber with insult, but does not dishonor you enough to reach out, There was a time, little bird, when you loved me without such reservation.

The words burn across your skin like living fire, your vows and his molded together in a single remembered sigil, a bond forced with the very language of Judgment, unbidden agony scorching your composure as you make a desperate, futile attempt to push away the memory; his voice soft, the low timbre of his accent sliding over your ears like honey in your mouth, gentle lips on yours as he sealed your fate with a kiss, I have memorized you like a prayer.

You could almost have forgotten he was a liar, standing lost in your memories as you are, forgotten the price of promise and the weight of truth.

Almost.

The tears burn at the backs of your eyes, but you blink them back, let bone grind against bone before, More fool I, then, for thinking you did the same.

You turn to walk towards the door, four sovereigns in hand to pay for your meal — interrupted though it has been — making a concentrated effort to not look back, even as you hear his voice cutting through the otherwise silent room, When everything goes wrong, it is a terrible burden to bear alone, don’t you think?

You cannot help yourself, can you? Shoulders slumping as you declare a reluctant defeat and turn to face him, swearing your heart has lit aflame.

You cannot ignore His Law forever, little bird.

You know nothing of responsibility, Helmut, your voice is cold as the icy expanse beyond the warm walls of Novi Grad station, still aching to leave and frustrated by your uncooperative feet.

There’s a twitch at the corner of his lips, amusement sparking in his own eyes, And what of you, little bird, what have you learned of responsibility since your escape from Perdurance?

You visibly flinch, the name sparking an endless array of horror and memories within you, just as his expression falls into uncharacteristic regret.

Nothing, clearly, you reply hollowly, words bitter on the back of your teeth, Much to your pleasure, I think.

That wounds him, to your surprise, hurt painting his face before he controls his features and buries both regret and rage beneath a placid mask, Infinite freedom is as tight a prison as an opulent cage, on occasion.

#helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #dark!helmut zemo #dark!helmut zemo x reader #dark helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo x reader #fallen london #mcu #dark fic #fanfiction

[nocapesdahling]

Under the Cover of Darkness

Helmut Zemo x GN! Reader

My Masterlist

Summary: Baron Zemo has amassed quite an art collection over the years and it’s enough to draw your attention. After much surveillance, you don’t know which work you’re going to steal, but know you’ll have plenty of options to choose from. Little do you know that he’s been watching you too.

Rating: M (18+, Minors DNI please)

Warnings/Tags: Soft! Dark Zemo; Degradation; Art Collector! Zemo; Thief! Reader; Dirty talk; Power imbalance; Referenced masturbation; Arrogant! Zemo; Referenced voyeurism; Implied future dubious consent; Brief mention of cockwarming; Hints of Dom! Zemo; Possessive behavior

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: I originally had a very different fic planned, and this ended up going in an unexpected direction. I know this is a bit outside the realm of my usual fics, so I’d love to hear what you think. 

You’d been casing his place for way too long. Baron Zemo, who was one of the wealthiest people in Sokovia and rumored to be one of the most prolific art collectors in the world, hadn’t been the easiest man to find. The scope of his collection had only been a rumor to you, one you’d heard in passing and paid no mind to. Until you’d heard it again from one of your closest friends and fellow thief in Madripoor, who’d been at an auction to see who was buying what for future reference and saw a man, who everyone knew was Zemo’s representative, buy a Raphael like it was nothing. Based on that, your friend thought there might actually be credence to the rumors and that was enough for you to check it out.

From your research and surveillance, you’d learned that Zemo lived mostly alone with only Oeznik, his butler and also his representative at auctions, for company. Well, he also had the company of his art collection. And that was no small thing. You’d been able to discover after almost a month that his collection was everything they said it was and more. You’d caught a glimpse of a Rembrandt, a Monet, the aforementioned Raphael, a Van Gogh, and a Basquiat with who knows what else displayed in other parts of the house. 

After searching for what felt like ages, you’d finally found what looked to be a small hole in his security. A place where the cameras had a blindspot, where the hallway was dark, and where the window could be jimmied. That meant that you were done casing and it was time to do what you did best, stealing. Tonight was the night. Finally.

You got the window open without the telltale sound of breaking glass and pulled yourself through, landing lightly on the balls of your feet. At a crouch you moved forward, towards the Monet you’d glimpsed during your surveillance. Up close it looked like “Meules'' from 1890, a painting that had been held in private collections almost since its creation. You shined your flashlight on it and were mesmerized by the brushstrokes, even in the dark — so much so that you forgot where you were for more than a moment. That was until a lamp turned on in the corner of the room, startling you into dropping your flashlight. No one was supposed to be in here. Oeznik’s room was on the other end of the house and Zemo kept the same bedtime every night. You’d watched his robed form lounge on his bed before he turned the lights out exactly at 10 pm each night enough to know.

Speak of the aristocrat and he shall appear. You turned, eyes wide, to behold Baron Helmut Zemo lounging in one of the leather chairs with a glass of scotch in his hand. The lamp cast his face half in shadow and he looked sinister for a moment. His lips were twisted into a cruel smirk you’d never seen on his face before during your scrutiny of him and his eyes looked triumphant before his face smoothed and became still again – as inscrutable as the depths of the ocean. It was so quick that you may have imagined it.

“It was nice of you to join me, my rogue. I thought that I’d be waiting forever for the pleasure of your company.”

You knew what that meant. He’d known you were coming. How had he known? You’d been so careful.

“Ah, I see it in your face. That moment of realization. You were careful, little thief. But not careful enough. For while you’ve been watching me, I’ve also been watching you.” He paused for a moment in contemplation and tapped his thumb against his lips. “And I have liked what I have seen.”

This had never happened to you before. You chose a mark, you cased their house, and you stole what you planned to steal. Each time was a success, allowing you to make something of a fortune and to even keep your favorite pieces for your own collection. You were a damn good thief if you did say so yourself. No one had ever made you. Not like this.

“You are speechless. That’s fine. I often have that effect. Let me ask you. You saw me swimming in my pool. Didn’t you, my thief? Nod if you can’t summon the words.”

You bit your lip, thoughts meandering back to that day. His surprising muscles with the water dripping off of them and the way his bathing suit had flattered his assets – yes, you’d like what you’d seen even knowing that those muscles were remnants of his recent time in EKO Scorpion. Even so, you were tempted to shake your head no. He had the upper hand here already and you wanted to gain something of your own back.

“Before you respond, I will know if you’re lying. And you will not like the consequences.”

You shivered slightly at his tone and how his voice had deepened before hesitantly nodding yes.  

“I knew you did. I knew you were watching that day you see and wanted to put on a little bit of a show. I knew my collection already had your attention, but I wanted it for myself.”

You cleared your throat, summoning words for the first time in his presence. “And you had it.”

He leaned forward, his scrutiny of your face intensifying. “I know I did.” He sipped his scotch, his mien assured as though he already knew the answer to his next question. “Tell me, my rogue, did you touch yourself afterwards to thoughts of me? If you don’t want to admit it, that’s fine but I will tell you that I did. I imagined what you would look like — below me, riding me, in my sheets, against the wall, and covered in paint in my studio with my cock inside you as I worked. I can detail all the ways I’ve imagined you if you’d like. It’s rather a long list.”

You looked away, unable to hold eye contact. You had in fact got yourself off to thoughts of him as soon as you’d found a secluded place and had a few times since then, but you were never going to admit that to him. Before they’d been harmless fantasies of a mark, which once you liberated one of his paintings, you’d never see again. But now faced with Baron Zemo watching you from the shadows, his eyes intense and burning, they felt anything but harmless — they felt dangerous, like you were about to jump into an abyss without knowing its depth, and it made you shift in discomfort. It was too bad you’d always liked danger more than you should. You shook your head no and began moving towards the window as subtly as you could, which in your current agitated and aroused state was nowhere near subtle.

“Oh, you didn’t? See my thief, I don’t believe that. I think you made it to my hedge maze and no further before bringing yourself pleasure. I think you got lucky that the cameras there were off that day otherwise I would have had that memory preserved forever. But don’t worry, we’ll make new ones.”

You’d almost made it to the window, which with its age had unfortunately slid closed. You only needed to get it open and you would be free. You wouldn’t be around to “make new memories” with him, and hoped to never see Zemo again.

He was still serenely watching you and sipping his scotch as you went for the window.  

“It looks like I’ll be leaving now, Baron. I’ll leave you be. I promise your collection is safe from me, and you can forget you ever saw me.” Your voice sounded as nervous as you felt.

“Leave me be?” He stood, placing his scotch on the table, and prowled closer like a predator approaching its prey. “Now, when did I give you the impression that I wanted that? You see, my rogue, the window won’t open. I closed it and locked it while you were entranced by the Monet. You do have good taste, though I thought thieves of your caliber were supposed to have better senses.”

At this point you’d backed up into the wall next to the window, dropping the tools of your trade to the ground. Zemo’s face was fully illuminated in the moonlight as he loomed over you and he was just as handsome as ever, even more so now that you knew he was a worthier opponent than you’d ever expected.

His voice when he spoke again seemed to linger over the words as he smirked at you. “Oh no, my little thief in the night.” He tsked, “You will not be leaving for a very long time. This is your home now. Isn’t that wonderful?”

You shook your head and a tear escaped from your eye. He wouldn’t be able to keep you here. Your friends would look for you. Your buyers would miss you.

“Look on the bright side, you will be well taken care of here and my art collection will be within your reach at all times. You’ve seen how well I treat my art, yes? I take good care of what’s mine.”

You continued to shake your head. “What about me? What about my life?”

Zemo reached out and caressed your cheek, his thumb catching a tear and his hands shocking in their warmth. “Ah, yes. An important question. As for you – well, you will be within my reach at all times. Mine to do with as I please. Doesn’t that sound lovely?” He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “I think we’ll be very happy together, don’t you? You’ll be the crown jewel of my collection.”

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

A/N: I will confess that I rather like the last line. Hope you all liked this, and please let me know if you did! 

I do have a Halloween fic in the works for Zemo and a fluffy Laszlo Kreizler drabble I can’t wait to post. I have quite a few fics for Zemo on my masterlist too if you’d like to check them out!

My Masterlist

#Zemo x reader #Helmut Zemo x reader #Baron Zemo x reader #dark!zemo x reader #dark!Helmut Zemo x reader #dark!Baron Zemo x reader #dark!zemo #dark!helmut zemo #dark!baron zemo #Helmut Zemo x you #Zemo x you #Baron Zemo x you #Zemo x gn!reader #Zemo fic #Zemo fanficton #dark fic #Daniel Brühl x reader #zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo

[six-demon-bag]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Helmut Zemo Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Helmut Zemo Additional Tags: Episode: s01e04 The Whole World Is Watching, dark!bucky barnes, zemo whump, Sexual Sadism, Choking, Asphyxiation, Rape, Anal Sex, Forced Orgasm, Hurt No Comfort, not safe sane or consensual, heavy-handed symbolism? in my fic?, (it's more likely than you think...!), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Series: Part 2 of lock the fire escapes Summary:

Bucky continues to take liberties with how he treats Zemo, and Zemo continues to have a bad time.

#hello i love this #!!! #go read this #winterbaron #dark!bucky #read the first one too #but i adore this second installment even more #dead dove do not eat #omg #baron zemo #zemo #bucky #bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #fic #fanfic #ao3 #fic rec

[therenlover]

Balm (A Medieval!Helmut Zemo x Maid!Reader Fic)

A/N: Guess who's back from a 2-year hiatus and dragging Zemo back into style with me kicking and screaming? ME! ME! ME! More explanation is to come about why I've been gone and what the plan is now, but for the moment, enjoy the most-requested unfinished fic I had from before my mysterious disappearance <3

Synopsis: Your forbidden dalliance with Baron Zemo, the lord of the house, has finally landed you in the dungeons, subject to the whims of the guards and the endless passage of time. As your sanity slips away, you wonder what will come first, your execution or the Baron's return?

Tags: Hurt/Comfort Heavy On The Comfort, Reunions, Medieval!Zemo, Maid!Reader, Dungeons, Psychological Trauma

Rating: M (+18)

Warnings: References to Recent Sexual Assault and Psychological Torture (Male on Female, No Graphic Descriptions), Imprisonment, PTSD Symptoms **Stay safe and avoid this fic if you need to, this was a personal project made to help me cope with my own feelings about my trauma**

Word Count: 5,800~

_________

“Where is the girl?”

Sharp voices, some unknown and some chillingly familiar, boomed against the dark walls that closed in on me by the minute, gaining ground with every agonizingly long second. They were still far out, at least a minute away from the wrought-iron door of my cell. Somehow, though, I couldn’t bring myself to care. No, not anymore. If my execution was finally rapidly approaching with the sound of armor and thundering feet, it would be much more to my benefit than anything else the men approaching could possibly do to me. Or what they had already done.

The thought sent a shiver down my bare form despite the hardness of my heart.

Was there any torture, commonplace or strange, worse than what I had already endured at the hands of men who considered themselves to be bringers of justice and keepers of peace? I could not fathom it. Even a painful, slow death in the iron maiden would be preferable to the time I had been confined to the dungeons of the manor I’d once called home.

A soundless laugh, weak and bitter and halfway to a rib-crushing cough, escaped my cracked lips at the irony of it all. I tasted blood with every swallow.

Yes, I decided death was a welcome friend a long time ago, even if with it came the moment I dreaded most of all. In the pitch darkness, I let my eyes fall closed, and somewhere down the hall, the cacophony of voices grew louder.

“Why was I not informed of this the moment I returned to the manor?”

“I assure you, my lord, we thought it for the best-“

“For the best? You ignoramus-“

My lord.

The words stirred nameless feelings in my chest. Screaming, sobbing, nameless feelings that pulled the dregs of my humanity back to the stony surface of my strong facade.

How long had it been since those words had left my lips, a veneration above all others reserved only for the man I loved, despite their demands? I couldn’t even wager a guess. There were no windows in the dank room that served as my personal hell, just darkness and torchlight. The only way of keeping track of the suns and moons that passed was through the changing of the guards, and I had come to anticipate those for an entirely different reason. Counting the days had ceased being a priority long ago. It was much more important to count the passing shifts in order to prepare for the true punishment, doled out by faceless men in near-identical leathers. Here I was little more than the Baron’s abandoned whore, and rather than counting days I counted the cycling of warm bodies in the frigid underground air.

Horror and shame and rage coursed hot in my veins at the thought.

Surely this amount of men could only mean I was to be escorted to your execution, but I wondered in the darkness: Would they defile me one last time before dragging me out into the square, heavy hands and covetous eyes taking and taking and taking until there was no chance of forgetting what they had stolen from me, even as I took my final breaths? Or would they feign justice instead, slipping my bruised body back into the rough prisoner’s uniform that had remained crumpled in the corner far beyond my reach since the first hours I’d spent at their mercy? Either way, their impure actions would be evident when they dragged me out to the town square, which was a small blessing amongst the terrors that awaited. Maybe it would not be clear to the public, but the Baron… he would know.

He had known every inch of me. He would have to know.

He would see the marks, so similar to those left by his own fingers and teeth and lips and palms, and he would know the truth of the cruelty I’d faced, but he wouldn’t turn away from the sight of my broken body. It was his job as a crowned head to witness my death to the end the same as any other prisoner, no matter how gruesome or horrible an end I met. Perhaps that was to be his end of the punishment for the beautiful crime we’d shared. Perhaps, in a turn of events that I could only now imagine in the depths of my despair, he wouldn’t feel pain or punishment at all. My head could roll to his feet with no more than a tired sigh from his royal lips.

None of those possibilities really mattered though. Nothing mattered because nothing could be changed. Not anymore.

Distantly, I wondered if they would hang me, burn me, or separate me from my head. If I was especially unlucky, which I usually was, they might choose to make an example out of me and choose to draw and quarter me instead. The thoughts hung heavy in my mind, and all the while the end of my life drew closer and closer, marked by angered shouts and the gentle glow of torchlight, growing brighter and brighter in the corner of my sight.

I closed my eyes to the oncoming reality.

Seeing their reaction to me, strung up nude and probably still dripping with spend, would be too much. instead, I allowed myself to listen. That was the one sense they could not sully or steal away from me. Besides, if I kept my eyes open I would be forced to behold the faces of the guards, and I would much rather not have features to put to the nameless, faceless shadows that haunted both my nightmares and every waking hour. I had managed to keep them anonymous in my mind until now, and I would prefer to keep them that way until the end.

Something clanged a few feet away from the cell door, loud and tinny.

A voice called out from beside the noise, low and raspy. Familiar in the worst of ways. “My lord, what are you doing down here?”

“Where is she?” A new voice replied, “Which cell?”

Or… perhaps the voice wasn’t new. It rattled something within me, and slowly my memories regained some of their clarity. His voice was louder than I was used to hearing it, rougher around the edges than I remembered, but it was Helmut’s voice nonetheless. A weak smile spread across my bloodied lips despite my internal protestations.

He had come.

For what reason I still couldn’t say, but he was right there. He had come back and he was searching for me. The sound of him, his heavy footsteps and thunderous timbre close enough that I could almost imagine grasping the sounds from the air… I could not begin to describe the strange feeling bubbling up through my chest at his very presence, so close and yet so far. Still, I did not dare make a noise, I doubted I could manage a shout or even a whimper if I tried to, and instead, I listened as intently as I could.

The frantic conversation outside only grew louder as the men approached my cell. It was hard to fully focus on it. Through my hazy delirium of starvation and pain and hope, I could only focus on the image of his face in my mind, smiling brightly down at me in the firelight as he had so many times before. His touch was a phantom on my burning skin. It was a memory so close to reality that if I kept my eyes squeezed shut, it was almost indiscernible from the real thing, down to the bruises on my hips and the ache in my legs. Still, it was a fantasy, the final beautiful dream of a scullery maid who had taken too much from this cruel world to be allowed to continue to live in it.

I relished in every single moment I was gifted with him; past and present, real and imagined. There was little else I could possibly do but wait and hope, and hope was a dangerous thing.

“I’m afraid you’re too late, Baron. She is… no longer with us,”

The words made all the warmth I’d gathered up through my dreaming turn sour and cold in an instant. This was why hope was such a dangerous game for me to play. It comes just as easily as it goes, but it never leaves without taking something with it.

“What?”

“Her womanly constitution was simply too weak for the dungeons, my lord. We did everything by the book, I assure you of that, but she couldn’t manage it past the first week. She. Perished in her sleep,”

The guard's voice was so sickeningly genuine that even I almost believed him.

“That cannot be true. I refuse to believe it is true,”

“Aye, my lord. Any of us men could verify,”

Metal slammed against metal in the distance as shouting began in earnest, but I couldn’t focus on any of it. No, my mind was far, far away as I pondered the consequences of what I had witnessed.

I began to think that they never intended to let me die. At least not in the way I had been meant to. Instead, they would kill my soul and rob me of my sanity until my heart simply gave out from the horror of it all, hidden away in the bowels of the Baron’s manor where screams of pain and wails for help would fall on deaf ears. No one would come looking for me again. No one would even know I had survived. A sob escaped my mouth, breathy and broken. Would the tortures never cease?

A sudden silence followed.

Helmut spoke again in a quiet, measured tone. “What was that noise,”

I sniffled as the faceless man outside the door clambered to cover up whatever had caught the Baron’s attention.

“What, my lord?”

“That noise. What. Was. It.” The T seemed to be spat from the baron’s quivering lips. “I thought you said no others remained in these cells as we descended, so what could possibly be making noise?”

“I can assure you it was-“

A slam echoed through the dungeon. “Tell me the truth, or I shall imprison you long enough to find out when someone of your… constitution would perish under these conditions.”

There was silence.

No one spoke or moved an inch. I couldn’t even manage a whimper in that soundless eternal moment that seemed to stretch on and on into the oblivion that surrounded me on all sides. Creaking armor finally cut through it all, breaking through the void, and like a spark on dry kindling, everything burned quickly from there. Something clattered to the ground, metal rattled, boots stomped and keys clanged on their loop. Still, I could not bring myself to open my eyes, even as the great iron door of my cells groaned open and exposed my bare body to a new rush of freezing air from the hall.

All at once, silence prevailed again, cut only by the wails of air rushing down from the stairway.

I couldn’t lift my head; it was far too heavy on my trembling shoulders with my grubby, matted hair falling like a filthy curtain in front of my face. I didn’t need to lift it, though, to know Helmut was there in the doorway, beholding me in all my shame. Another sob cut its way through my throat and body at the thought. I was so consumed in my pain that I almost missed the sound of soft footsteps on the packed earthen floor beneath me.

“Schatz?” He whispered. I winced at the tenderness of the nickname he had once grown so fond of. It was like I could slowly feel him comprehending the level of my suffering the longer I sat, eyes screwed shut. If I stayed just like that, unmoving and unseeing, I might be able to imagine it all away like a dream. That was easier than the alternative. He had finally seen me as what I had always been: nothing. It was only a matter of time before his kindness soured too.

Despite the gruesome scene before him, though, he did not turn away. He did not run.

Instead, the Baron took a few tentative steps forward. I could practically feel his presence before me. Then he inhaled, sharp, but stayed silent for a moment more. If I hadn’t dared to know him better, I would have thought he had reached out to touch me before choosing another course of action. He couldn’t have done that, though. There was no possible way he still cared for me, especially after seeing me in such a state of filth and shame. Right?

“Oh, my sweetest one,” Helmut murmured, “what have they done to you?”

And just like that, I shattered at his slightest word.

“M-my lord, I…” my throat burned in protestation, a thousand red-hot needles thrust with every breathy whisper, “I have failed you. Punish me how you see fit,” In a sudden rush of pain, it was as though I could feel every bruise and slice on my body, every aching muscle in my arms screaming for release from the manacles above my head. I didn’t dare strain against the restraints, though, because even with Helmut present I couldn’t fathom what might happen if I stepped out of line knowing the guards were just steps away at the door. Despite the fear, it was excruciating.

As if he could sense your agony, the Baron jumped into action. “Someone remove her shackles! Now!” He shouted back towards the door.

I could hear a bit of shuffling behind him, trembling as the noises grew closer and louder. There were people with us now, people who might witness firsthand the impropriety of my relationship with the lord of the house. People who would use that against me in the worst of ways. A whimper escaped my lips at the thought as I could feel them lean in to undo my hands from the bolts on the wall. Though no one else would possibly notice, the man above me still smelled like sex.

Helmut was a constant tether to sanity through the terror. A distraction from the world outside the two of us in each following moment.

“You have not failed me, little one,” he said, “In fact, I’m incredibly proud of how strong you must have been.” His voice was soft, one only ever used for me. It felt almost too good to be true.

I shook my head, ignoring the sharp pains that shot through my neck, eyes still firmly closed. I couldn’t allow myself to hope. Not yet. “Why have you come here?” I begged, “We cannot be seen together. Your reputation…”

He sighed softly, and a familiar hand came to rest on my knee. I jumped from the alien sensation at first but corrected myself quickly. It was just Helmut. I knew those calloused palms by touch alone, as sure as I knew my own. Those hands were just as incapable of hurting me now as they had been when I first held them in the soft lamplight of the harvest festival so many moons ago.

“I am the head of this manor and the Baron of these lands. If I wish to protect the woman I love, I am well within my rights to do so,”

“Don’t,” I protested.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t give me hope. Not now, not so soon before we’ll be parted again,”

With a loud clunk, my wrists were released from their manacles.

After however long I had been imprisoned in this dark, wet hell, the muscles in my arms had weakened considerably. What once was toned muscle from years of labor now sat taut against bone, withered away with time and disuse. I could do little more than let them drop to my sides as the Baron rubbed calming circles into my knee with his thumb.

Why couldn’t he see how much it would hurt to be apart from him after this agony? How allowing me to dream now would only mean those dreams could be crushed when he returned to his life above. I had committed a crime, after all. Even if the punishment I had endured until this moment ended, I would still serve the rest of my treasonous sentence to the death without him. Alone. It all made me feel so defeated that I could do little more than cry dry tears and memorize the feeling of his skin on mine. It would keep my mind with me longer once he had gone if there was a pleasant memory to cling to. I couldn’t decide, though, if keeping my mind would be a blessing or a curse.

Helmut didn’t give up despite my insistence on pushing him away. In fact, I could almost imagine he grew gentler as a few guards shuffled about behind him. “Where are the fine clothes I had given you, my love?” he asked, “How can I warm you?”

What little moisture had returned to my mouth dried completely in an instant at his words. I couldn’t rip the answer from my tongue if I was forced to with a dagger at my heart.

Still, the Baron tried again. “If they’re here, please try to guide me to them. I can have one of the guards retrieve them,” The moment he mentioned the guard, every muscle in my body tensed, trembling from the effort of it all despite my mental protestations to calm. I couldn’t raise any alarms. I was too late, though. Helmut took note of my reaction with a measured rage as his teeth snapped together. “Ah,” his voice was a low growl, “I see now. No need to fret, Schatz. I’ll have Oeznik bring you a fresh gown. You won’t need whatever they dressed you in down here from now on anyway,”

Distantly, I could hear the hurried rush of slippered feet disappearing down the stone corridor, and I could only assume it was the trusted manservant following his lord’s orders to fetch me some clothes. I was so focused on following the sound of footfalls up the stairs that I almost didn’t notice the warmth of a cloak settling around my bare shoulders, draping over my nudeness and surrounding me with the string musk of cedarwood and sweat. I almost felt safe there, within the thick fur and leather of that mantle. When was the last time that had been even partially true? I couldn’t honestly say I knew. Maybe was that Helmut was there, so close to my side, or maybe it was that my modesty was covered for the first time in gods know how long, but no matter which was true, a strange sense of relief began to flood my veins. It burbled up to the surface like some sort of warm natural spring flowing from the very core of my being. For the first time in ages, I could breathe without terror, even if not without pain.

After the initial rush, though, it almost felt as though not facing my imminent demise made everything worse.

If I wasn’t actively about to be executed at any given time, that meant I had to face the things I’d seen, the things that had been done to me… oh yes, things felt much worse when I had to confront them in the proverbial light of day.

All at once, I learned that there were fates far worse than death and that mine was one of them.

A gasp, wet with blood and spittle, escaped my throat as I burrowed deeper into the cloak, pressing my face to the collar where the Baron’s scent was strongest. He was quick to bring a hand to my face, but I pulled away from the gesture. I couldn’t bear to look at him. To let him look at me… it was unfathomable. Not as I was.

Despite everything, Helmut was as patient as he could be while I trembled there. He rubbed his calloused thumb slowly over my gaunt cheeks, hushed me, and dried my tears. Everything about him seemed to radiate comfort like the sun.

The switch flipped when one of the guards made the mistake of speaking.

“Baron,” the new voice said, voice low, “don’t you think it best to-“

He never got to finish his sentence.

No, before he had the chance to utter another syllable, Helmut was standing at his full height and grasping the man firmly by some piece of his armor, dragging him closer across the muck on the floor.

“What were you about to say to me?” The man did not reply, but the Baron refused to relent to his silence. “I asked you a question, worm. When your lord commands, you obey,”

The guard's reply was stuttered out as soon as his heaving breaths allowed him a moment's respite. Was Helmut… choking him?

“I was going to suggest that you return to your father to get an official pardon before you decide to elope with a rightfully imprisoned woman, Baron, no matter the nature of your business with her. Need I remind you that he is the true Baron of this manor until his passing, after all,”

That was, evidently, not the correct thing to say.

A growl ripped free of Helmut’s throat that could have been loosed by a wild beast as he shoved the man harshly to the floor.

I heard others move to defend their comrade, but they all seemed to still at the sight of Helmut’s ferocity. In an instant he was standing over the fallen guard with what I could only imagine was a murderous rage from behind my shut eyelids.

“Rightfully imprisoned? Rightfully imprisoned?” Rage dripped from every seething word, “There is no rightful imprisonment when you strip a prisoner of their decency- of their humanity! When was the last time she was fed? Allowed time off the rack to care for herself? Rightfully imprisoned… you lost the right to claim that the second you locked her down here without the advisory of my father, who has given me full permission to free her and return her to my quarters immediately,” Helmut paused for a moment before adding, gravely, “I shall call a healer for her there to confirm what I believe to be true, and if it is… well, may the gods have mercy on your souls, because I certainly will not,” With that, he spat into the face of the guard at his feet and stepped back, taking heaving breaths, though I could not tell if it was from the effort of his rage or the effort of holding it back.

The moments that followed beloved into sort of quiet chaos in the darkness of my mind. There was a shirt scuffle as the guard seemingly rose to his feet once more, aided by his compatriots, while Helmut stood silent. I could just make out the shaky sound of his ragged breathing. Everything else just melded into a cacophony of voices and loud, disjointed noises that seemed to jump out of the darkness and straight for me. It made me want to implode.

It was as if, all at once, everything became… too much to bear. The air was too thick and the sounds were too loud and every inch of my being was alight with small bursts of needling pain, driving far past my skin and deep into my bones as the room grew colder and colder around me. The sensations were nothing compared to the tortures I had endured before, physically or otherwise, but with the promise of freedom and safety waiting so closely to me in the form of the man that I loved, even the smallest of pains felt unbearable and unending. It was as if every bit of suffering. Had fought through at the hands of the guards to survive to see this glimmer of hope had been compounded into one, large pressure that threatened to crush me the second I clawed my way to freedom.

Helmut would never allow that to happen, though. Not again. Not after he had seen me in this state. I could only suspect that this newfound softness in him meant he wouldn’t allow me away from his side for quite some time, no matter how ridiculous or unbelievable such an idea seemed. In the deepest, most shameful corners of my heart, I could only hope it would be true. I wanted desperately to be tucked away someplace soft and warm and utterly mundane where I would never be forced to face another ounce of horror or darkness for the rest of my life.

Somewhere between the sudden influx of sensation and the daydream of peace, I forgot to keep my eyes shut.

My eyelashes peeled apart, adhered together with some sort of muck, revealing Helmut standing before me. The sight of him was enough to let me fight through the pain of the light and keep them open. A soft sob escaped me once more.

His body was tense and readied for movement, white shirt soaked with sweat and grime and what looked like it had to be blood as he stood with his back to me, one arm outstretched back towards me in a silent gesture of comfort he didn’t even know if I would see. He could not reach me, nor did I think he intended to, but it offered me security nonetheless. His other hand sat easily on the hilt of his sword, resting sheathed on his hip as it always did during long trips outside the manor walls. Had he come directly to me upon his return home, not even taking the time to shed his outdoor cloak and sword, only to find me missing from my place in his chambers? I banished the thought from my head. That was unimportant at the moment. What mattered was that Helmut’s body served as a barrier of safety between me and the rest of the world. It gave me just enough courage to keep my eyes hooded, but open.

It took a moment to adjust to the darkness. While the torches in the hall still burned brightly, the great iron door blocked most of their glow from reaching my gaze. The light was just enough to focus in on the world beyond Helmut’s silhouette, letting me catch sight of the glint of a guard's sword appearing from the dark corner of the room before the Baron did.

What once was quiet chaos devolved into loud, maddening chaos from there.

I screamed. That was certain, even when all else was not. It was a dry, cracked, raw thing that escaped me as the hidden guard broke rank and lunged across the room. There was no humanity in his ice-cold eyes, not the slightest glimmer of anything besides bloodlust and pure self-preservation crossing his face, and yet somehow, despite all the time I had spent at the mercy of him and his companions, I held no fear for myself. Instead, the terror that wracked my body was for the man who stood between me and the sword.

Helmut was the only thing in the world that could keep me from an eternity of torment and his attacker knew that better than even I did at the moment. He intended to kill the man I loved, a treasonous act, in exchange for the safety of his own hide. If Helmut was bested… I couldn’t even fathom it. The moment stretched on endlessly, and yet there was no time to think about the sight I beheld. As the Baron took note of the man, he drew his own sword. I urged my own abused muscles forward, managing to almost drag myself across the few feet of space that separated me and my lord and his hand, still outstretched towards me; a beacon of reassurance. The moment my fingers brushed his, I collapsed, muscles spasming against the dirt. I had done my part. From there, I could do nothing but close my eyes once more and wait for the telltale metallic noises of swordplay.

They never came.

Helmut jolted before me, hard enough that even from my spot on the floor I couldn’t help but wince, and I heard the telltale swish of his blade leaving its sheath, feeling the wind in its wake on my teary face. Still, the terrible fight I anticipated didn’t rage on. I couldn’t hear any of the other guards present so much as breathe. I found myself utterly lost in the darkness. My cluelessness towards the current situation was almost worse than seeing Helmut skewered, at least in that moment as I reached out and grasped fistfuls of dirt, desperate to hold on to something real. Someone groaned a quick, pained breath, and then everything ceased to be.

Time stopped there for a while. Maybe it was only in the prison of my own mind, but it was as if the space between breaths had extended out into the infinite darkness and fear that consumed me whole. He couldn’t be dead. Even if he was, I couldn’t bear to check.

The moment was only broken when a familiar voice cut through the silence. “Shall I have him disposed of, my lord?”

My eyelids were heavy, but I forced them up and open as I released my fistfuls of dirt and dragged my face up to look towards the door only to find Oeznik had returned. With a bundle of linens in one hand and a bloodstained sword in the other, he stood flanked by some of the elder Baron’s personal guards. If looks could kill, the man who had attempted to take Helmut’s life would have been in a much more merciful situation, and the baron stood before you, triumphant.

His blade remained pressed into the man’s neck, keeping the poor bastard frozen mid-swing for fear that one wrong move would take off his head. All the while Helmut’s face remained hidden from my view. If his body language was anything to go by, it was taking all of his self-control not to slaughter the guard right then and there, but he remained as still as a statue, unreadable and cold, as I reached a trembling hand up to his still extended hand like a lifeline. He squeezed my cold fingers in his own comfortingly the moment we managed to touch. 

“Just ensure that he doesn’t move from this cell,” Helmut replied, “None of them should,”

It was as if the great group of men gathered around the door forgot how to breathe. I, on the other hand, felt freer than I had in an eternity.

“Shall I lock the door behind us?” Oeznik inquired.

Despite his hidden face, I could hear the pure wickedness and vengeance in Helmut’s grin. “Yes, Oeznik, and station a few of our best men at the door. One of them may still have a key, and all would be for naught should they simply remove themselves from captivity,”

“Right away, my lord,”

It shouldn’t have surprised me when Helmut let go of my hand and finally shifted himself to regard me once more. Still, the look in his eyes made my heart feel although it could stop beating. He turned and knelt before me, taking my muddied face in his hands and brushing a thumb over my cheek. His touch was so tender I almost forgot to breathe, as though taking even a gulp of air would break the spell and plunge me back into reality. The light, remained, though, even as he sank to his knees to assist me.

“There's no need for us to tarry here any longer, schatzi. Come along now,”

An almost childlike, hysterical wonder flooded my senses as I tried to pull his cloak tighter to my body. The warmth was addictive. “We’re going? Together?”

“Yes darling, together,”

“But what if someone sees us? Baron, I can’t let them see you like this, especially with me in such a state. If someone from town were to see-“

Though his face betrayed none of his emotions, the ice-cold tone of Helmut’s voice was enough to send a shiver down my aching spine. “I will cross that bridge when I’m required to. Now come. You’ve spent far too much time in this dank hole already and I refuse to let you remain here for even a moment longer,”

I needed no more convincing than that to take the Baron’s hand as he helped me up on unsteady feet.

Standing again was a strange sensation, to say the least. It was as if I were a fawn taking my first steps across the damp forest floor in spring. Helmut kept me upright against his side and jumped into action the moment he was needed, bracing my body on his as my legs gave out time and time again in the steps toward the door. When the struggle became too great for him to bear watching, he wasted no time before sweeping an arm beneath my knees and cradling me to his chest, making sure to keep me wrapped securely in his mantle along the way. From there I could do little more than let the shock set in, drifting in and out of the present as he carried me away from the hell hole I had believed I would never leave again. All the while, a loose, pained smile crossed my bloody lips.

On the way up the steep, winding stairs, I faintly recalled hearing Helmut muttering to Oeznik, who remained a few paces ahead of you during the ascent like a buffer. The contents of their conversation eluded me. I could only assume they were speaking of what had transpired, but I couldn’t say with any certainty. Not with the way my mind seemed to be covered in a thick fog as soon as I let my eyes drift shut once more, tucked into the furs that surrounded me on all sides. The only certainty in the world became the steady thrumming of Helmut’s heart and the heady musk of travel clinging to his clothes and skin.

As the last of my lucidity faded, I opened my eyes one last time, only to be greeted by the warm light of dawn. It streamed down upon me in a million colors from the stained glass windows lining the hall. I had believed so truthfully that I would never see the sun again, and yet here I was, bathed in the glory of a new morning. A new day.

Everything became lost to time from there as my eyes drifted shut once more, still catching glimpses of colored light from behind my eyelids until I lost my grasp on the present.

#helmut zemo #zemo #baron zemo #zemo x reader #daniel brühl #x reader #marvel fanfiction #falcon and winter solider series #technically there will be a part 2 to this but it'll take me a few days to edit it up

[late-to-the-party-81]

Kinktober Master list

Day One- Good Boy Subby!Bucky x Reader (Mommy Kink and Edging)

Day Two - Wrap me up in your love Frank Castle x Reader, from It can’t rain all the time (Shibari and competence kink)

Day Three - A good ‘bad idea’ Mean Dom!Steve x Reader, from I love you then I hate you (Impact play and Bratting)

Day Four - Strangers in the night Unknown CE or SS character x Reader (Sensory Deprivation and Anonymous Sex)

Day Five - No work and all play Ransom x Reader (Dumbification and Free Use)

Day Six - Take everything you need Ari x Reader from Ari and his Angel series (Anal sex and Praise kink)

Day Seven - Run (You belong to me) Hulk x Reader from You, Me and the Other Guy (Primal play and Breeding kink)

Day Eight - Versatile Camboy! Sam x Reader from Whatta Man (Pegging and Mirror sex)

Day Nine - You and me, always Steve x Bucky (Oral sex and a Uniform fetish)

Day Ten - Can't fight the moonlight Werewolf! Ari x Reader (Cream Pie and Werewolf/Shifter)

Day Eleven - All for one, and one for all SamStucky x Reader from Conclave (Triple Penetration and Aftercare)

Day Twelve - The awfully good, terribly bad day part 1 Steve x Bucky x Thor x Agent! Reader (Orgy and Sex Pollen)

Day Thirteen - The awfully good, terribly bad day part 2 Steve x Bucky x Thor x Agent! Reader (Size Kink and Bukkake)

Day Fourteen - Things that go bump in the night Jefferson, Lee Bodecker, Charles Blackwood & Nick Fowler x Reader (Gangbang and Clothing Disparity) DARK FIC

Day Fifteen - Once more, with feeling DBF! Steve x Reader from Like fireworks on the 4th July (Overstimulation and Sex Toys)

Day Sixteen - Trust in me Virgin Pre-Serum Steve x Vampire Bucky (Lingerie and Vampire)

Day Seventeen - Give you hell Lance Tucker x Reader (Hate Sex and Cum Marking)

Day Eighteen - I own you (body and soul) Loki x Reader (CNC x Dacraphilia)

Day Nineteen - Good girls get treats Daddy!Val x Puppy!Reader x Mommy!Nat from Good Pup (Pet Play and WLW)

Day Twenty - It's all about experience Peter Parker x Reader, Stephen Strange x Reader (Cuckolding and Age Difference)

Day Twentyone - Tit for tat SamStucky x Reader from Conclave (Voyeurism and JOI)

Day Twentytwo - Whatever he wants Mafia!Tony x Reader (Exhibitionism and Objectification)

Day Twentythree - Planes and Barons and Knives, oh my! Zemo x OFC! Marcy from Bad Kids (Knifeplay and Roleplay)

Day Twentyfour - Sex outside the bedroom Sam x Bucky, part of BBB22 (Leather and Frotting)

Day Twentyfive - Control Lloyd Hansen x Reader (Degradation and Omoroshi)

Day Twentysix - I was made for loving you Sam x Bucky, fits into my SamBucky Stories (Nipple play and Intercrural Sex)

Day Twentyseven - Food for thought Thor x Reader (Oral Fixation and Food play)

Day Twentyeight - Need you now Nomad Steve x Reader (A/B/O and Biting)

Day Twentynine - Her Master's voice Loki x Reader (High Protocol D/S and Collaring)

Day Thirty - To sleep, perchance to dream Eddie Brock x Reader x Venom (Somnophilia and Tentacle Sex)

Day Thirtyone - Very, very frightening Sex Worker Thor x Reader, from Thunderbolts and Lightning (Electroplay andSafeword usage)

Tagging some beauts: @sidepartskinnyjeans @christywantspizza @yarnforbrains @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @lunarbuckv @navybrat817 @jobean12-blog @poppunksnowwhite @summerofsnowflakes @tuiccim @bucky-barnes-diaries

#kinktober 2022 #late writes #kinktober masterlist

[morguevampire]

(Un) Fortunate Encounters - Chapter 6

Masterlist for this fic

summary:  Fighting boredom and missing genuine human interactions you make it your mission to find out more about the Baron. He ignores your questions but tension builds up eventually, when you don't stop prying.

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

chapters: 6/?

word count: 1.934k 

pairings: Helmut Zemo x fem!Reader

author’s note: 

Uhhh, it's been a minute. Whoopsie.

Here's the usual excuses of being busy with uni and real life responsibilities but if we're completely honest I did not really feel like writing and I think I needed a (quite long) break from this story but I am back and i had fun writing this! Wrote this chapter pretty fast, so excuse the mess lol. As usual, english not my first language bla bla bla.

Feedback is always appreciated and THANK YOU to whoever is still reading this and has not given up on me. I have the intention of finishing this... i just need time. But as Zemo said: I have experience. And patience. A man can do anything if he has those.

Muchos besos mis amores <3

You can also find this work on https://archiveofourown.org/works/43158162/chapters/119680711

The more time you spend talking to Zemo, the more intriguing it becomes to find out more about his person. He’s like a closed book, not giving you any more information than is visible on the cover. Little side notes sometimes helping your brain in forming a genuine personality around him. But it feels like a one-sided game. He asks you questions about your family and friends, your hobbies, your feelings and your morals but in return you get almost nothing.

Mentally you make a note to pay extra attention when talking to him. Taking in all the crumbs he gives you about his private life. It almost feels like a game, and it does keep you entertained.

With time you get bolder in returning his questions. Simple little inquires, which aren’t too intimate but when answered could reveal something.

It’s obvious that they annoy him, most times he won’t answer or even leave the room in a sort of nonchalant way which makes you even more curious. As if he didn’t hear you. But his ignorance doesn’t stop you from prying. He’s fast to tell you his values and morals in a general sense, yet he will not go into specifics about his actions or his past.

On one occasion, it was during your dinner-routine, he seemed to be in a particularly chatty mood and gave you quite a few personal insights, so you figured it might just be okay to ask him about his family. You were both indulging in some whiskey and at the beginning it seemed to have lifted some of his secretive nature. You even catch him smiling at one point. Like a full-on laugh. But that changes immediately once you ask him about his son.

“So, what was Carl like? That’s your son’s name right? I think I read it in a news article somewhere?”

The noise of his cutlery clashing against the porcelain plate startle you. You immediately fix your gaze to your own plate, not wanting to look at his furious face and be reminded of the incident in his study. Your intentions were innocent enough but you knew you had overstepped a boundary. Instead of rage or screaming, his eerie soft but sharp voice tells you it’d probably be best to retire for the night. You mumble a quiet “sorry” but he’s already out of the dining room.

With that you’re left alone, food half eaten and the light mood of the evening ruined.

It bothers you. The way his mood changes so dramatically. It was difficult to navigate. On one hand you feel welcomed and heard and safe in his presence and on the other hand you feel like walking on very thin ice around him.

You were also sick of apologizing for asking questions. He seemed to know everything about you, yet you had no idea who the man you were staying with was. For the next day he was nowhere to be seen. Your trust had been broken.

You decide to distract yourself with books and a cup of tea, spiked with rum to ease your nerves. That evening you eat dinner on your own. Sulking in your own stupidity in thinking such a manipulative, egoistic man would open up to you. You still couldn’t even figure out what his intentions with you were. What did he want? Why were you still here? After all, it has been two weeks or so.

Time seemed to fly by when you were in company with either the Baron or Oeznik, but when you were alone it was like living in a never-ending dream. Not necessarily a nightmare, but the sort of dreams that made you feel stuck and anxious.

After dinner you decide to lounge around the living room, nursing a glass of the expensive liquor stashed in a cupboard next to the bookshelves. Alcohol helps pass the time, you figure. You were staring at the words in a random book, absently touching the stitched up wound above your left eye when his voice interrupts your aimless thoughts.

“We should probably take out those stitches. The wound seems healed enough.”

It wasn’t a question or a request. It was a command to get up and follow him into the downstairs bathroom.

He instructs you to sit down on the edge of the bathtub, where he kneels in front of you, unpacking the medical kit which seems to have magically appeared. You feel yourself caught in a sort of haze, intimidated by the situation. You’ve never been this close to the man before.

Perhaps that time in the warehouse where he carried you towards safety but having him in front of you, on his knees, face so close you could feel the ghost of his breath on your cheek not only made you blush, but also tense up.

You try avoiding his keen stare, rather just looking down at your sweaty hands fumbling around nervously.

When you dare to look up for individual short moments you notice light freckles on his skin. Also some stubble on the cheeks. But his face seems soft, even with his focused gaze, eyebrows furrowed to assess the wound on your forehead.

Whenever you feel your staring becomes too intense or obvious and you look down again, his smell overtakes your senses. His cologne smells citrusy, mixed with notes of cedar wood. 

You curse yourself for being so desperate. It must be your lack of social interaction with other humans besides him that makes you so overwhelmed with the closeness. Needless to say, it is an invasion of your private space, whether you appreciate it or not, you can’t really tell just yet.

After assessing the healing process of the wound Zemo mumbles a simple “looks good” and proceeds to take out tweezers and medial scissors.

It’s in that moment that he briefly catches your stare. For some unknown reason, instead of avoiding his eye, you decide to look right back at him. It’s probably only a fraction of a second but it feels like minutes of staring into each other’s eyes and by the time he finally concentrates on your forehead again you’re a wreck. Shaking even more than before and trying to breath as quietly as possible. What was wrong with you? Why did he have that effect on you?

He must have noticed your discomfort as he tells you that “it’s alright, just stay calm and relax” while he’s preparing to remove the stitches.  

It really just isn’t that easy to relax when your brain decides to completely eliminate the function of self-control and all you can think about is the fact that your kidnapper/host/new-friend-who-also-happens-to-be-a-Baron-AND-a-terrorist is actually quite an attractive man and very caring and gentle when he wants to be. His fingers just ever so slightly ghosting over your skin, giving you goosebumps all over. Underneath all those rigid, strong features definitely lies something soft and vulnerable.    

You try to calm yourself down, you really do. Closing your eyes and easing your breathing when Zemo suddenly burst your meditative bubble.

“He loved Turkish delights.”

Your eyes snap open, finding Zemo’s but he’s not looking at your confused expression, but instead focusing on the wound above your left eye. He senses your confusion though.

“Carl. My son.”

Now you were even more stunned. He was actually opening up. In all of the possible situations, he chooses to tell you about his son while being mere inches from your face. But you didn’t want to break the spell. Staying quiet and assuming he talked to distract you, why he chose such a personal topic, you didn’t know but you appreciate his story.

He tells you about how Carl was a tough kid. Nothing ever hurt too much and he wasn’t scared of anything, besides maybe wasps. But he most likely got that from his father. 

  He would come home from playing outside spotting bruises and cuts from branches or wounds from falling from his bike but he’d be so casual about it. Simply asking for a band aid, just to rip it off again after a few hours because it was “annoying on his skin”. 

His mother was worried he’d be too reckless, but she knew he’d learned from his father to always calculate the risks. 

It was only once, when he suddenly came running from playing with friends outside. When jumping over a little stream somewhere in the woods surrounding the Zemo’s Estate he must have slipped and cut himself quite deep on his shin on a sharp rock. The ever cool Carl he was, he told his friends it was nothing, just a scratch and he’d just get a band aid real quick.

  He really did try to hold back the tears, but when he spotted his father sitting on the balcony and alarmingly getting up when he saw his boy limping towards him, blood running all over his legs, the tears came, even for tough Carl.  

The wound was quickly fixed up, the tears dried and the mood lifted with a treat of Turkish Delights. 

“With all my efforts, I've always encouraged him to freely express his emotions. And not to shy away from embracing his weaknesses.” He sighs.

“But then again, I suppose I wasn’t much of a role model in that regard.”

You don’t know what to say. You want to say something. Anything. Mostly you want to thank him for opening up. For telling you about something so intimate. Essentially telling you about his own failings. Making himself vulnerable, right in front of you.

“I think he still really looked up to you. And I don’t think you failed.”

It’s all you say.

Zemo has long finished taking out the stitches but he’s still there. Not having moved from his position and it seems you’re back to simply staring at each other. In that moment he looks like a normal man. A bit of a broken man but a genuine one. An open book, really to be read and ready to be understood.  You catch yourself wanting to touch him then. Just softly run your hand along his cheek, or just give him a hug, a long one. You search his face, wanting to take in as much as possible, before the moment expires or worse: it turns out to have been a dream. He’s doing the same, his stare dropping to your lips in an almost antagonizing rhythm. It takes everything in you not to reach out. You’ve never been one to make first moves, and you feel it isn’t your place to take action or advantage of his vulnerability. So you wait, and continue to stare and hope he just leans in and kisses you already. You know it probably isn’t a good idea, but you also feel it to be something you both would need at the moment.

It could be your imagination but you feel as if he was leaning even further into your space, ever so closer, breath hitching and heart beating too fast, too loud in your chest….

“Right… the scar should heal quite nicely.”

It is pure disappointment. The way he pulls back in the last second, right before you could have tasted his lips, mumbling whatever about your scar. You just nervously clear your throat and thank him.

He’s stood up and is out of the bathroom before you can even think about saving the situation.

Needless to say, that night you can’t sleep. And for once, it’s not because of nightmares.

You lie there, wondering if his thoughts are circling around as well.

#helmut zemo fanfic #zemo fic #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #mcu #baron zemo x you #zemo x you

[orions-quiver]

do you write smut fics too cause i'd really enjoy a fic with jealous zemo🥺

Only Mine (Baron Zemo x Female!Reader)

Summary: After the meeting with Selby in Madripoor Zemo needs to remind you of who you belong to.

Word Count: 2.3k

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

General Tags: Smut, Explicit, PWP, Daddy Kink, D/s Undertones, Oral (male receiving, female giving), Face Fucking, Thigh Riding, Degradation (name calling and demeaning language), Light Choking, Dirty Talk, Use of Force/Restraints, Rough Fucking

Note: This thing took up 18 pages in my notes app good lord. I had fun writing this from the usual jealousy in Madripoor trope with Zemo though. I got carried away and made him go somewhat feral lmao. This is not a soft possessive fuck, this is an angry "you are MINE" kind of possessive fuck. Hope y'all enjoy. ;)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"The breadcrumbs you can have for free, but the bakery will cost you, Baron. And before you can get all cute, you can't find Nagel without me."

Zemo had already agreed to pass ownership of the Winter Soldier to the woman across from him. He began to think of what else she could be after. "I have given you HYDRA's greatest asset, Selby. What more could you want?"

(Y/n) had agreed to go along with Zemo's plan of putting her in the role as his arm candy. She sat in his lap snuggled up to him as his hand absentmindedly traced patterns against the exposed skin of her thighs. The (hair color) squirmed slightly when his hand roamed higher to slide under the already short fabric of the dress.

Zemo had bought a rather expensive but skimpy outfit for her to wear. It was a short, tight red dress that hugged the form and left nothing to the imagination paired with black velvet heels. The dress had a corset decorating the front, keeping her waist cinched and her figure more hourglass. The demand that came next didn't surprise him when Selby had spoken again.

"I want your other toy, Zemo."

Selby looked over (Y/n) with a gaze that screamed nothing but hungry predator. Zemo hummed, his gloved hand reached and grasped her chin before pushing the now utterly helpless bait to stand in front of him. "Go on, Draga. Show our friend a good time." The Baron looked back up at her as he spoke with an indifferent look crossing his features.

(Y/n) stood for a moment in front of Selby, silent and unsure. "Strip. Make it interesting." She barked. The woman felt uneasy with the situation already. "That was an order. Did your handler here not teach you to obey?"

A darkness began to consume Zemo's eyes as he watched this little charade of a mission. A violent, horrible feeling made his grip on the arms of the chair tighten and the gloves to give a soft squeaking noise.

"Forgive me, ma'am." (Y/n) reached up to the bow that held the corset lacing of the dress drawn together and pulled it free. She took small steps towards Selby as the lacing was removed. By the time she was straddling the older woman's lap the dress's front was completely open, a beautiful lace bralette was the only thing that protected her from being truly topless. (Y/n) had to commit if this was going to work.

She wanted to throw up.

Zemo had reduced her to nothing but another pawn to be handed to Selby like a cheap whore.

She giggled with fake shyness as Selby pushed the dress to pool at (Y/n)'s middle. (Y/n) finally removed the dress completely to reveal matching lace panties. The set was white, much like Zemo's knuckles were under the protection of his gloves. She sat more up on her knees and dipped her head to rest in the crook of the other's neck. Zemo's breathing was deep and deliberate as he watched on.

(Y/n) needed to be praised for her dedication to the part to make this work - but at what cost? Helmut Zemo's self-control, it seemed.

(Y/n) sighed softly, the end of the noise made her sound needy and pliant as the Baron watched the other woman grip her waist with a possessive edge.

When Sam's phone rang, the room fell silent as Selby stopped her movements. "A moment, beautiful."

Bucky caught her eye and flashed a curt nod of feeling equally as awful in their respective positions. Zemo ran through numbers in his head to keep himself from rising and ripping her from Selby's grip and covering her with his coat.

"Answer it." Selby's voice was cold. "On speaker phone." Leave it to Sam 'I-Don't-Put-My-Phone-On-Silent-During-An-Undercover-Op' Wilson to blow their cover, truly a stellar display for an experienced Avenger.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Are you joining us for the party?" Sharon asked as she ran a hand through her hair. "I'll pass. I want to be alone. I need a while." (Y/n) didn't hesitate in taking her retreat to the room Sharon had given her. She was angry at Zemo for giving her over like that, forcing her to play a more extreme character than what was already being pushed at her.

Zemo returned from the party soon after she had left for her room. "Where is (Y/n)?" He asked Sharon while taking a sip of the whiskey still in his hand. All she did was point to her room.

The Sokovian knocked once. Then twice. Now a third time. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience wearing dangerously thin as his mind was still reeling from the incident with Selby. When no answer was given Zemo opened the door and walked into the bedroom, having shut the door behind him. "(Y/n)-"

"Fuck off, Zemo. You're the last person I want to see."

"That's no way to greet your handler, is it Draga?" Zemo was a stubborn, manipulative bastard. His aura alone drew the girl to him like a magnet. "You're not my fucking handler. Fuck. Off."

Zemo stalked closer. In seemingly one quick movement he had one hand holding (Y/n)'s wrists behind her back while the other hand gripped the back of her neck. She drew in a ragged breath as he pushed the girl back down and ripped the robe off of her body to discard it on the floor.

"What was that Draga?"

(Y/n) whimpered into the mattress in reply. She was again only covered by her undergarments. The sudden shift made her go soft. The possession in his grip was obvious, and it spoke to a need rising within her.

Zemo hummed in approval as he took the hand off of her neck to undo his belt and slide it out of the belt loops. "I must say Dušica, you committed to your role beautifully." (Y/n)'s brain clouded with the sound of his praise. "With doing this I hope to remind you of who you were supposed to belong to. You seemed to be having so much fun with Selby."

(Y/n) gasped quietly at the feeling of the leather gathering her wrists and holding her still. Zemo admired his work for a moment before he leaned forward, his body covering her back. The Baron nosed at her shoulder as he kissed every bit of skin that was offered to him.

"You're going to be making it up to me." He whispered as he nipped at her skin. "On your knees in front of me. You are going to let me use that pretty little mouth until you're choking on my cock."

When he stepped away (Y/n) seemed to scramble. The anger had burned away underneath the calm authority Zemo always embodied. She sought the steadiness of his control. It was sure. It was comforting. He was always comforting in that way.

Her attention was drawn back to the task at hand when Zemo unbuttoned his trousers with deft fingers. (Y/n) could already see how his cock was straining against the fabric keeping it out of sight. She shifted on her knees when Zemo forced a foot between her thighs.

"Stay just like this. If you want to act like a whore in front of me then you'll keep your legs spread like one." (Y/n)'s eyes peered up at the brunette through long lashes.

"Yes Daddy."

Zemo felt the air leave his lungs in a low groan. Lightening fast his cock was freed and rested against the woman's lips. "Open up Draga, Daddy wants to see how much of his cock you can swallow." Her lips opened and Zemo was hit with the sinful warmth of her tongue flattening to taste as much of him as possible as he fed her every inch. "Good girl." He praised softly. (Y/n) moaned around his cock, her jaw went slack and her breathing became forced as she settled just an inch away from the base of it. Her pretty white panties were going to be wrecked by the end of the night, and Zemo wanted to see it.

Zemo carded his fingers through (Y/n)'s (hair color) locks to soothe her as he eased himself back out. "Don't move. Keep your jaw relaxed. Daddy's going to make sure you can't talk tomorrow my darling."

With a handful of her hair Zemo thrusted back into the soft wet heat of (Y/n)'s mouth with brutal force. (Y/n) sputtered and gagged from the violent nature of his movement as her core throbbed at the sound of Zemo biting down a groan. "Beautiful. A perfect cocksleeve, aren't you baby?" He repeated his motion with the same violent possession burning through his system.

(Y/n) choked with every push and pull of her head meeting Zemo's punishing thrusts. Tears stained her face as the Baron groaned and moaned out soft praises at the feeling of her throat spasming and swallowing around his length. It made his head fog with a manic pleasure as (Y/n) began to feel the effects of her lack of oxygen between Zemo's rough rutting into her pliant mouth.

It's just as violent of a movement as the rest when Zemo is suddenly pulling his cock out of (Y/n)'s throat with a louder moan.

"You feel so good Draga. Took my cock so well in that sinful mouth of yours." His pupils were blown and eyes dark, a single band of his brown honeyed eyes threatening to snap with even one wrong move. He watched with quiet amusement as (Y/n) coughed violently as her lungs gulped down all of the air they could get. Spit had dripped from her mouth down her chin and onto the floor where her legs were still apart. He pushed her shoulder down until the fabric covering her throbbing pussy rested against his shoe where he had stuck his leg out. "Fuck yourself while I finish. If I'm satisfied I may even let you come soon."

(Y/n) sobbed when Zemo forcefully yanked her head back to look straight up at him. "What are you supposed to say when I give you an order?"

"Yes Daddy!" She cried with a soft, hoarse voice as her hips rutted against his Oxford. The laces against her swollen clit was good, but it wasn't enough with the sticky fabric of her panties in the way.

"You may be a pathetic slut but I would think you'd still have your proper manners for your Daddy." The hand holding her head back let go and returned to its place jerking his cock with quick movements. "Open your mouth."

When (Y/n)'s mouth opened she was met with the warmth of Zemo's come as it hit her face, her lips, and on her outstretched tongue. He tasted salty, but somehow sugary sweet in her mouth and she wanted more.

The woman rutted even harder against his shoe before she was grabbed by her abused throat and hauled up onto her shaking legs. Her knees buckled, and would've slammed against the floor if not for Zemo's (thankfully) firm grip on her. "Look at the mess you made of my shoe." The laces down to the toe of the Baron's shoe glistened under the dim light of the room. (Y/n) could feel how her underwear stuck uncomfortably against her and whined at the feeling.

"Shh little one," Zemo hushed as he adjusted himself and walked them to one of the plush chairs in the room. "You've been so good, taking me so well. There we go, back on your knees. Turn around sweetheart." His voice softened significantly as he unfastened the belt and let her hands free. "Up on three Draga. One...two...three." (Y/n) was lifted again and adjusted to straddle one on of the Baron's thighs. She rocked against him with short movements.

"You can touch me, Dušica. Would you like your underwear off honey?" She nodded shyly while her hands wandered to grip Zemo's broad shoulders and find purchase in the knitted fabric of his turtleneck. She didn't expect Zemo to pull out a pocket knife and cut the ruined fabric right off of her hips.

"Daddy!" She whined and buried her face in his chest out of embarrassment when he held the now scrap of fabric up to inspect it.

"Absolutely ruined." He leaned down to place a soft kiss to (Y/n)'s hair. "You can move Ljubav. You may come when you want my sweet." (Y/n) braced herself once more. Zemo lifted his leg upwards as she ground her hips against it. The fabric of Zemo's pants were a bit scratchy against her inner thighs and added to the friction on her clit.

Soft "Ah- Ah- Ah-"'s filled the room while (Y/n) fucked herself against the Baron in ernest. Zemo pressed feverish kisses against his lover's neck when her pace picked up and her cries grew in volume. He lowered a hand from her hips to seek out the sensitive bud. "Let go Kleiner. Come for Daddy. Tell them all who you belong to."

(Y/n) arched her back as she ground her hips again as hard as she could when Zemo's thumb drew tight circles around her clit and the other moved to grasp her throat. He squeezed it. It wasn't enough to hurt (Y/n), but just enough to cut off her air. With a sharp cry (Y/n) came, her voice high and airy as she moaned. "Helmut-" Her pussy clenched around nothing while Zemo didn't let up with his stimulation to help her ride out the high. "Helmut- Daddyyy-" The girl babbled softly while trying to move away as the oversensitivity set in like a vice.

"I hear you Draga. My beautiful girl, Selby would have only dreamed of seeing you fall apart like that." Zemo felt powerful having gotten more than she had ever bargained for in the first place. He grounded (Y/n) with a soft kiss to her lips.

Zemo carried (Y/n) back over to the large bed before he stepped into the bathroom to retrieve a warm washcloth and lotion. "Let's get you cleaned up, meine Liebe."

#baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #daniel bruhl #helmut zemo x reader #the danny bunch #helmut zemo #daniel bruhl x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #ca:cw #captain america: civil war #baron helmut zemo #answered

[applepiewinchesters]

Don’t Blame Me (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

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

Word Count: 4,200

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But at least the bartender seemed satisfied.

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know him?” Sam asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zemo nodded, motioning for her to go on.

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

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

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

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

Selby frowned, “Answer it, on speaker.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 For you, I would cross the line.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This would be your fall from grace for sure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 You gripped onto Zemo’s coat tightly, sobbing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dorogoy?” the Baron spoke.

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

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

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

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

Helmut’s brow furrowed, pulling away from you.

“What?” he asked, making you smile.

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

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

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

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

[st-eve-barnes]

My writing

All my fics can be read on AO3 or my writing blog

My Masterlists:

Aemond Targaryen

Eddie Munson

Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan

Steve Rogers/Chris Evans

Loki/Tom Hiddleston

Other muses include baron Zemo, no masterlist yet but you can find those on AO3

Recent fics and favorites:

Burn (Aemond x fem reader)

Somewhere only we know (Aemond x fem reader)

I will follow you into the dark (Aemond x wife reader)

Something for the pain (Eddie Munson x fem reader)

You could be mine (Zemo x fem reader)

Amends (rpf Sebastian Stan/Tom Hiddleston x fem reader)

Someone like you (Steve Rogers x fem reader)

Warm bodies (Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers)

The man on the train (Bucky Barnes x fem reader)

#my writing #Masterlist #eddie munson fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #steve rogers fanfic #stucky fanfic #sebastian stan fanfic #chris evans fanfic #joseph quinn fanfic #loki fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfic #zemo fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfic

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

Hunting Roses - Chapter 4

AN: This is a yandere Zemo fic. That means that it will have dark content. I do not endorse these relationships and behaviour in real life. This chapter contains mentions of death, tears, pain, divorce, grief, manipulation, fear, panic, and funerals. Also, please let me know if you like the new mood board!

Steve Rogers who was also known as Captain America was not having a good day.  To begin with, General Ross, a man who operated on fear and not respect had introduced the Sokovian Accords to the Avengers.  In doing so, Ross had ensured that each one of the Avengers thoroughly understood that an overwhelming majority of the governments around the world supported the Accords and what would happen to anyone who opposed the Accords in any way, shape, or fashion.

Steve wasn’t blind.  He’d seen the way that Ross zeroed in on Wanda and heard how he kept repeating and emphasising the complete title of the Accords.  He was proud of the way that you and Rhodey had stood up for her.

Steve’s mind was whirring when Ross announced that you had immunity and the other Avengers didn’t.  He had just realised that the singular offer of manipulation was part of a bigger, hidden plan when his phone vibrated.

The message that lit up his screen only contained two words.  But those words were enough to cause another crack in his heart.  Steve’s gaze became unfocused and all he could see were the words, “She’s gone.”

His body trembled as he announced that he had to leave.  Steve couldn’t bring himself to turn around to look at any of his team because he feared that they would see the tears pooling in his eyes and the pain in his heart.

Fifteen minutes later, Steve found himself carrying Peggy’s coffin with five other people.  He had tuned out the whole service and his gaze had become blurry as he stared unblinkingly at Peggy’s coffin.  While there were certainly people in the church that knew of his dual identity, he was sure that none of them would judge him for his grief.

The end of the service came too quickly and not fast enough for Steve and he once again found himself guiding Peggy to her final resting place.  Due to the large crowd, it was easy for him to slip away and return to the now empty church.

That was where Natasha found him.  Natasha had just finished explaining that Tony, Rhodey, and Vision had already signed the Accords.  When Steve asked about Wanda, Natasha replied that Wanda was under house arrest and Tony’s protection.

Steve’s throat felt dry as he gathered his courage to ask Natasha if she had signed the Accords too.  He was afraid that her answer would mean that he would lose another friend.

Steve felt his heart constrict as Natasha confirmed that she had signed the Accords.  He blew out his breath in a disappointed exhale and bent his head to look at the ground instead of Natasha.  Steve couldn’t even find it in himself to reproach Natasha when her phone rang in the church and she answered it.

His head shot up when he heard her tone change.

“Say that again,” the spy commanded, lowering the hand that held her phone to waist level and pressing the speaker button.

“I’d be more than happy to arrange a hearing appointment for you, Widow, although I didn’t think that I’d need to do that for a couple more decades.”

“Tony.” Natasha snapped.

“Not in the mood for jokes I see.” Tony replied smoothly.

“What gave it away?” Natasha asked sarcastically.

“The general tone of your voice, the fact that….”

“Tony!” Steve bit out impatiently.

“Steve.  I’m sorry to hear about Peggy,” Tony stated sombrely, “and I hate to be the bearer of more unwelcome news but (Name) is nowhere to be found and a woman claiming to be the ex-wife of Baron Helmut Zemo has arrived at the compound along with Zemo’s father and son.  They are insistently demanding to talk to as many of us as they can.”

Steve’s feelings about Natasha signing the Accords were pushed to the side at Tony’s words and he and Natasha shared concerned looks.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” Natasha promised.

Steve couldn’t think of a time when he had been more grateful for Natasha’s driving ability even if she was a slightly reckless driver on normal occasions.  Neither of them spoke as she sped through the streets arriving at the compound in exactly ten minutes.

Steve’s curiosity and apprehension built with every step.  He and Natasha walked in silence through the compound and Steve pretended not to notice her side glances every few minutes.  While he walked, he wondered exactly what the Zemo family was doing at the compound.  He also worried about the fact that you had disappeared from the compound.

Over your time with the Avengers, Steve had been able to piece together bits and pieces of your history.  His mind kept returning to the fact that years ago, you and some others had fought against a bill called the Mutant Registration Act.  The reminder of the Act was enough to have Steve fighting a shudder.  He’d done some research on that act and he had been appalled at the fact that the Act had even been allowed to enter the Congress chambers.

Steve had also been horrified at the amount of support that the Act had amassed.  It seemed that the America he had fought for in the forties was slowly slipping away and being replaced with an unfamiliar, unpredictable, and harsher America. 

Three people stood up from their chairs as Steve and Natasha entered the conference room.  Tony, Rhodey, Clint, Wanda and Sam all turned to look at them.  Vision was the only one who didn’t.  His head was cocked to the side and he was gazing at Wanda with concern.  While Natasha sought Clint’s gaze for reassurance, Steve looked at Wanda.  Her eyes were red and the skin around them was red too and Steve felt sympathy and protectiveness surge through him.  He also noticed that Vision was standing close to her.

When Wanda spoke, her voice was firm, “Baron Heinrich Zemo, Heike Párduc, and Carl Zemo, may I introduce Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff?”

Steve frowned slightly as he tried to figure out why Wanda had introduced the three visitors the way she had.  The closest he could get to an answer was that Wanda wanted to introduce them as humans not by their job titles.  He melted when he saw Carl wave to him and he returned the gesture.

“And your other friend?  Phantasm?” Heinrich demanded forcefully, “Where is she?  We came to speak with her!”

Steve’s mind registered the with in Heinrich’s sentence and for some reason, that four letter word had his muscles tensing.  Steve estimated that Heinrich was in his mid-sixties but the man still had a formidable air around him.  Heike seemed to have a similar fire in her eyes.  With her styled, curly blonde hair and light blue eyes, Steve could be forgiven for thinking that Heike was a woman he had encountered in the forties.

Heike’s son on the other hand had innocent brown eyes underneath furrowed eyebrows and neatly parted, short brown hair.  It was easy to tell that Heinrich and Carl were related just by looking at them and Steve’s heart sank because if he could spot the similarities, chances are that other people could as well and Carl could be used as leverage against his family simply because his grandfather was royalty.

Heike turned to her son, who had sat down again while looking at Steve with an awed expression.

“Show them what you can do,” Heike urged quietly and Carl frowned deeply, closing his eyes.  When Carl reopened them, Steve was shocked to see his shield sitting on the table between them. 

Without thinking about it, Steve reached forwards to touch his shield but his hand passed through it as if it wasn’t there.

“Carl’s talent appeared the night we left Sokovia.” The Baron rumbled, his voice losing some of its forcefulness as Heike smiled at Carl proudly and the illusion of Steve’s shield vanished when Carl grinned happily up at his mother.

“We think it has something to do with his father’s innate talent of persuading people to see his point of view,” the Baron continued.  Steve understood the underlying meaning of the Baron’s words.  It seemed that the Baron’s son had no qualms about using words or force to encourage his audience to see his point of view.

“Though that isn’t the only reason why we came,” Heike revealed, “it is a small part of it.  We all wanted to thank Phantasm for her actions in Sokovia and we wanted to warn her.”

“Warn her?” Clint echoed, “Why?”

Wanda and Heike looked at each other and then Heike asked Wanda and Vision to take Carl on a tour of the compound.  Heike and Heinrich watched them leave and then Heike turned back to face Steve.  When she spoke, Steve noticed that her voice had risen slightly and he could detect notes of urgency and panic in it though her tone remained level.

“You must understand that Helmut and I fell out of love a long time ago.  We chose to stay together for Carl and because we didn’t want to give the Sokovian media any opportunity to report gossip.  I’m sure you understand that concept.”

The present Avengers all made small noises of agreement.

Heike cleared her throat, “When we landed in America and had not heard from Helmut, I began to dream of a different life.  In Sokovia, not only was he a former Colonel of the Sokovian Armed Forces but he was a commander of EKO Scorpion, an elite strike force.  As a result of his time with those organisations, I began to witness a darker side of the man.  There was a ruthlessness to him and so, I quietly made inquires about divorcing him.  Heinrich found out about my endeavours and to my surprise, he supported me.”

“People change over time.”  Heinrich asserted, “Sometimes it is not for the better.” 

Tony nodded, “I’ve had that happen to me once or twice with people I’ve known for a long time.”

Heike nodded, “Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, I was able to recover the divorce papers that I had signed before we fled Sokovia.  When Helmut arrived unexpectedly on our doorstep, he inquired about your friend and there was a longing hidden in his inquires and I thought to myself, “Why would he hide his intrigue?”  All of the answers I considered left a bitter taste in my mouth and so, I took the opportunity and presented Helmut with the divorce papers that I signed.  As soon as he left, I felt as if I had played right into his hands and so, we made plans to come here to warn Phantasm.  It seems we have arrived too late and she is gone.”

“I have a few ideas where she might have gone.”  Natasha spoke up reassuringly and some of the tension left Heike’s body although Steve saw that Heinrich was still unconvinced, “We’ll find her and we’ll tell her what you told us.”

“I will also admit that I am worried about Carl,” Heike continued and Heinrich nodded, “while I know that Helmut would be incredibly protective and if the occasion asked for it, downright wrathful if any of his enemies tried to harm Carl in any manner, Carl is a young boy who adores his father.  He knows he has a talent and if he thought he could help his father by using this talent…” Heike trailed off.  Steve could see the shock on all the Avengers’ faces particularly Natasha, Rhodey and Tony’s faces at the implication that an innocent child could be manipulated into helping his father simply because they were related.

Heinrich confirmed the hidden message in Heike’s final speech for the Avengers, “It would be best if Helmut never found out about his son’s talent but we do not live in an ideal world.  We must be practical.  Do you know of a place where my grandson can learn to use his talent safely and without fear?” 

“There’s a place called Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters,” Natasha explained “and it would be the first place (Name) would go to feel safe again.  On the outside, it appears that the school is academically focused but that is a façade.  Its true purpose is to provide a safe environment for children and adults like Carl.”

“Can you escort him there?” Heike pleaded, “I fear that my ex-husband has eyes and ears everywhere and that it will be sooner rather than later that he finds out about Carl’s gift.”

Natasha raised her chin, “I will escort him there and do my absolute best to protect him,” she vowed.

#mywriting #civil war au #spoilers for marvel movies #yandere helmut zemo #female reader #avengers team #avengers fanfic #avengers au #reader is an avenger #reader has powers #enemies to friends #friends to lovers #dark helmut zemo #dark zemo #yandere zemo #steve rogers #wanda maximov #tony stark #heinrich zemo #heike zemo #carl zemo #clint barton #vision #natasha romanoff #the images for the mood board were found on google #credits to the original owners of the images #the mood board was made by me

[summertrashsplash]

Wow, our summer trash splash has resulted in 31 trashy works!  Here is the full roundup of the fics and artworks that have been added to the Summer Trash Splash AO3 collection during the SplashZone, in alphabetical order:

A Means to an End by Call_Me_Kayyyyy and HaniTrash (art + 1k words)

Zemo is using Bucky as a bargaining chip in Madripoor, which means Bucky must play along to get the information they need. He hadn't expected the Baron to take things this far...

a widow's tender bite by ghostlygun (2k words)

After the creation of new Winter Soldiers has failed in 1991, HYDRA finds a new partner in Dreykov and his Red Room, both parties determined to try again. Vasily Karpov doesn’t like those plans. Neither does the Soldier.

aftertastes by Lies_Unfurl (5k)

The Red Book didn't just contain the trigger words: it also had thorough accounts of all the many punishments that HYDRA inflicted upon the Winter Soldier. A not-insignificant amount of which involved food or drink.

While in Madripoor, Zemo sees a way to use scent and taste to draw out the Soldier he's certain still hides inside James.

ART Fill for "Collar/Leash" by BloodMooninSpace

ART Fill for "Enforced Chastity" by BloodMooninSpace

ART fill for "forniphilia" by BloodMooninSpace

ART Fill for "Magic/Occult" by EclipseArts (BloodMooninSpace)

ART fill for "Tentacles" by BloodMooninSpace for mumblemutter

Art of Steve Rogers in an Army Green Stealth Suit by BloodMooninSpace for NeonBat

Art for a piece that NeonBat wrote for Trash Splash 2022!!!

[Art] Recreational Use by Call_Me_Kayyyyy (many arts!)

Some art I made based on bingo prompts. No real explanation's given.

The Asset Mindset by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy and Call_Me_Kayyyyy (3.3k + art!)

The Asset has always been turned on by violence—so much so that Hydra’s been forced to keep him on ice. When an urgent mission means he needs to stay out of cryo, his handler orders him to bring in a high value target for his fuck toy. Soon enough, Steve Rogers is the Asset’s unruly, misbehaving pet who only needs to be broken in order to be properly trained.

bonding ritual(s) by cm (mumblemutter) (1.5k)

The one where Sam and Bucky bond in Europe.

For the squares: recreational function / public use, restraints, breeding

Bucky the dog by Neonbat (40k)

Bucky's life has never been his own. Pierce is his Uncle, his provider, his everything. A chance encounter one day calls everything into question, and after fate provides a chance at freedom, Bucky seizes it without hesitation.

But Bucky can't outrun his past forever, and soon it catches up. He will do whatever it takes to ensure Steve is safe and far away from his dark, cold world wrought with blood and violence.

caught in 4k by ghostlygun (4k)

John Walker releases some old Hydra footage to the public, proving that the Winter Soldier did a lot more for them than killing people, while looking far too happy in these videos. Word spreads, and soon everyone knows about Hydra's whore. Bucky and Sam have to deal with the fallout.

en pointe by cm (mumblemutter) (6k)

Steve finds the man unconscious in the woods.

Or: The one where Steve is the Stomper and Sam is the Red Falcon.

For the squares: shrinkyclinks, Tony Stark, secret trigger phrase, brainwashing (free space)

etiquette for beginners by cm (mumblemutter) (3.5k)

The one where Sam inherits a Bucky from Zemo.

Things go about as well as expected, really.

For the squares: gaslighting, friend = handler, trade sex for x

hard times by Lies_Unfurl (5.5k)

“Don’t make this weird,” says Bucky.

“…is that a cock cage?” asks Sam.

Bucky glares at him, in a single motion yanking up both his boxers and his sleep pants—the black checkered pair, the ones he wears in order to signal to Sam that he doesn’t want his dick touched, and doesn’t particularly want to discuss it. “What did I just say.”

(or: Sam, Bucky, and The Cock Cage Incident.)

heat. concrete. polaroid by cm (mumblemutter)

Or: The one where the author conveniently manages to fill their final two squares with a sequel to a fic that didn't need a sequel (except for the one where they have birbies).

I'm gonna just say that this is outside canon, and a completely self-indulgent alternate universe sequel to ice. hollow. nightfall.

For the squares: Johann Schmidt, reclaiming what HYDRA ruined

key issues by ghostlygun (2k)

“I didn’t get all the science stuff, but for him, it basically works like an aphrodisiac.” “Sorry, what?” “He’s horny. Do something, or he dies of a heart attack.”

Or: There's no safe house stay with the Soldier that doesn't include more-or-less unpleasant surprises.

man's worst by cm (mumblemutter)

The one in which Sam and Bucky talk about dogs.

For the square: dogs

(non)negotiation by cm (mumblemutter) (2.2k)

The one in which Rumlow makes a brief return.

For the squares: Rumlow / Rollins / STRIKE, self sacrifice

Parts of a Whole by writerkenna (14k)

When he first receives the part, the Asset does not allot much time to examining it. He’s had many adaptations made to him, most reversed eventually when they do not function as they should. This is no different. In fact, this part is hidden, tucked away under clothes, and creates no obvious distraction during missions. The Asset he sees no cause to look for trouble with it when there is none.

He doesn’t give his attention to it until it starts to bleed.

or

HYDRA outfits their Asset with a vagina and uterus. Bucky has to deal with that fact.

the plural of octopus shouldn't end with an "i" by cm (mumblemutter) (3k)

The one in which Sam has a secret, and Bucky finds out.

For the squares: magic/occult, tentacles

Reaching through shackles (Save me from the flames) by Neonbat (10k)

Steve never dreamt of what being turned over to Ross could lead to. Not only is he forced to give up the search for Bucky as soon as it's started, but give up all he holds dear. His friends. His body. His name.

A path diverges, and yet, through everything, the ending is always the same.

Til the end of the line.

rock meets scissors by cm (mumblemutter) (8k)

Bucky and Sam, in the Framework and out of it.

For the squares: orgasm control, impact play, triggered during recovery (flashbacks, etc), endurance torture (wooden horse, stress positions)

sleepless nights by ghostlygun (2k)

Bucky gasps for air, tries to move, tries to break free but he can’t, and the other person – the Asset, the Soldier, it’s him – squeezes until it hurts so much that the edges of his vision start fading to black. A rush of memories hits him like another punch; he knows he has done this too, crushed his target’s windpipes until they screamed and gasped and went limp in his grip.

“Who do you belong to,” the Asset growls. It’s not a question.

Some Like it Hot by HaniTrash (3.5k)

Steve has been captured by HYDRA. The STRIKE team is having a fun time trying to break him.

sore spot by cm (mumblemutter) (2k)

The one where Sam gets taken by John.

For the squares: John Walker, no place is safe

sweet as honey by ghostlygun (1k)

“Isn’t it tragic,” Dottie said as she took a step forward, “that every time we meet, we’re on different sides?”

Your Voice in my Head by thefilthiestpiglet (6k)

If someone cares about you deeply enough, you can hear snippets of their thoughts in your head. As a kid, Steve'd only ever heard his ma and Bucky.

So how come he still hears Bucky even now, when his best friend fell off a train 70 years ago?

Wow!!! A huge thank you to all the authors and artists who reveled in the dumpster this year!  Congratulations everyone!

#summer trash splash #summertrashsplash #sts 2022 #hydra trash party #stucky #sambucky

[nocapesdahling]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

Ooh, thank you so much for sending this Mack! 💜

Let's see, my five favorite fics I've written are (It was a little hard to narrow down and there's a lot of Zemo on this list 😅):

Logs on the Fire : Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Sweet: Helmut Zemo x Reader

Cousin Helmut: Helmut Zemo x Reader (Addams Family Crossover)

All of Me: Pre-Serum Steve Rogers x Reader

Appraisal: Helmut Zemo x Reader (Dark Fic with Soft!Dark King Zemo)

Honorable Mentions: Winter Wonderland (Bucky Barnes x Reader) and Helmut Zemo & John Wick Headcanons (Crossover) because I had so much fun with them.

#asks #mack the pirate queen #I cheated a little with the honorable mentions #Geralt of Rivia x reader #Helmut Zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #Zemo x reader #Steve Rogers x reader #pre serum steve rogers x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #dark fic #addams family fanfic #John wick fanfic

[giurochedadomani]

Guys I've been possessed by the possibilities of a winter soldier mungrove au.

@puppetoffthehook 😁

I'm shit at any long format fic, but I couldn't stop thinking about the ‘first meeting’ post the winter soldier events. Also, perhaps Eddie getting framed for murder fits better post his turning into the winter soldier? As in, every information points in the direction that the winter soldier was designated to infiltrate, kill and disappear. So it doesn't make sense that he was behind the brutal murder of governor's Carver wife (or any of the horrific murders that take place shortly after). They have been extremely public and extremely gory, not like any of the other victims of the winter soldier, who disappeared never to be seen again.

However, Eddie might be the key to lead them to whoever's plotting behind the curtains (perhaps Vecna / Henry Creel is our Baron Zemo?). Billy really defends this hypothesis because something something he and Eddie have always had each other's back, something something he finds infuriating that people have always read the worst in him, but also because he prefers that option to telling anyone about why he's so invested in helping Eddie.

(Also, the logical thing to me is to make Steve into our Iron Man, because rich white boy with daddy issues and also to keep the Rivalry ™ with Billy, but I'm also a strong supporter of harringroveson or at least 'Steve, Eddie and Billy as besties' so, an Iron Man that doesn't have uhhhh the same kind of backstory with the winter soldier? A bit more understanding Iron Man that doesn't lead to the civil war big fight?)

(also Corroded Coffin as the howling commandos, perhaps?)

Anyway, a bit of suffering for our favourite guys:

A red guitar pick hangs from a necklace. Strange light reflects on it, making it vaguely fluorescent. Billy feels the familiar warmth of a leather jacket as two arms envelope him in a hug, a voice speaking as through a broken phone:

"Don't believe him. You know what Neil wants. What do I have to do to convince you that you're not the bad guy?"

"Eddie". Then again, louder: "Eddie". He feels the cold down his back and then– on his face? And the arms around him keep him from– Gareth's shouting something. And Billy hangs on the broken door of the train. And Eddie's scream gets lost in the distance as he falls to his death.

"Eddie!"

…

…

Billy wakes up as the bucket under the broken pipeline overflows. Drop, drop and then–

"Don't move", mutters a voice next to him. Billy rises up abruptly, only to be pulled back by his wrists and a clinking behind his back and– okay, he's handcuffed to what feels like a broken, old radiator. And Eddie's next to him.

Eddie–

Eddie slowly rises the damp rag when Billy's head snaps back to look at him. He's been. Patching him up? Big, brown eyes eye his forehead curiously as Billy feels the cut closing. The long list of plans, the myriad of contingencies Harrington ran him through disappear as his chest constricts.

He thinks: he's alive. He mutters: "Thanks".

The hair's longer than the last time, curls sitting comfortably past his shoulders as Eddie sets the rag aside and gets up. He has ditched the uniform in favor of a dark leather jacket over dark denim.

"You didn't have to put yourself in the middle". If it wasn't for the roughness of his voice, it would almost feel like they're again sixteen and he's chiding Billy for defending him from some bullies instead of for helping him out with a Swiss special operations team.

Billy shrugs.

"You didn't have to take me to–", wherever this is. He takes on the aseptic, spartan room they're into as Eddie moves around. There's a thin, ratty mattress in a corner, Billy can't help the little smile that curves the corner of his lips when he sees Eddie putting in a bag a scribbled notebook next to it. "You didn't have to help me either. Yet here we are".

He can't have been unconscious for long, they're probably still somewhere in Geneva. He wonders how long he has before someone inevitably tracks them down.

"I'm not here to arrest you. I can help", he says, because it probably begs clarification. Eddie's face parts in a sneer. "I know you didn't do it".

Which is an hypothesis at best, a bad hunch at worst, as Harrington oh so kindly put it back in New York.

Billy's not sure what Eddie's trying to read on his face, but he'd like to smooth his frown with his hand. He wants to– He wants–

"Whoever you're searching for is dead". Billy feels as if all air has been punched out of him, as if they were back at Starcourt, Eddie's hands around his throat. "You'll end up dead if you keep searching for him".

He thinks: no. He thinks: not even if another century passes. He'll drag Eddie back from hell no matter if the devil himself decides to get in his way.

"That's what he told you?", he shouts, as Eddie makes his way to the door. "You don't have to believe him! Eddie!"

(What do I have to do to convince you that you're not the bad guy?)

…

…

Later, a shadow on the Mont Blanc bridge will extend their hand over the water. They will absently caress a stolen necklace, feeling the slight beat of the minuscule tracking device hiding on the pick. After a long moment, the shadow will put it back around their neck.

#Mungrove #billy hargrove #Longpost #Also puppet! I want to post this on ao3. Do you mind if I'm the notes of the fic I link your winter soldier fic??