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mlmxreader · 1 year

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Snow Day | Helmut Zemo x m!reader

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

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

tws: swearing, smoking, mentions of violence

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

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

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

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

"Mein Bärchen?"

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

"I can see that."

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

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

"And you want to do it again?"

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

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

"Really?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You look so good today."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anything for you.

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

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

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

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

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

"It's a date."

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

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knucklescum · 2 years

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Mind Over Matter - Helmut Zemo x mutant!reader

This is the new home for a fic i wrote on wattpad when i was 14/15 - currently being rewritten but will update as much as i can!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

#helmut zemo #zemo #helmut #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #cacw helmut #cacw zemo #cacw helmut zemo #fatws helmut #fatws zemo #fatws helmut zemo #fatws helmut zemo x reader #cacw helmut zemo x reader #mutant reader #zemo x yn #helmut zemo x yn

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loveofafangirl · 3 years

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Marvelous

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

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

Synopsis: Zemo reflects on the life you've shared and how much you've helped him. *Fluff* (with a tiny bit of hurt/comfort and n*fw if you squint at the end)

Word Count: ~650

“What?” Sensing Zemo's lingering gaze, you look up from your book. The two of you were relaxing in bed at the end of a long day. You can't help but smile as you catch his eye.

He brushes the back of his hand gently across your cheek. “You’re marvelous!” His lips press a delicate kiss on your forehead in adoration.

“Not that I’m looking to argue, but what exactly did I do?” You question curiously, pushing your book to the side, giving him your full attention.

“You are—you!” He states simply, his gaze never wavering from you.

You shake your head as a low laugh escapes your lips, not sure what that meant.

He wraps his arms around you, guiding you into his embrace. His long fingers cascade delicately up and down your spine as he holds you safely in his arms. "I never imagined I could find someone—" he pauses, taking a moment to consider his words and reflect on your time together over the past several months. "I thought the scars of the past—they would always remain. The hurt and pain—they were now a part of who I was."

"Helm—"

"I don't know if I deserve this life that we have," he continues with a deep sigh. His head falls to the sides in consideration. "I feel as though I do not, or at least should not. In my vengeance, I brought death and untold loss to others. I did not hold any resentment or grudge for my imprisonment. Unlike the others, I am willing to pay for the consequences that resulted from my actions. Yet, there are times when I feel this is still the justice I deserve, not this life—and certainly not you."

"Don't do that." You prop yourself up quickly. "You deserve this life. You are more than you think of yourself. You've helped saved others when no one else would. You've brought life where before there was only death. You don't deserve the fate of a prisoner. You have earned your freedom and this life—our life."

His lips press together, and his eyes close as a smile stretches across his features. "Hence, why it is that you are marvelous, y/n." His voice is softer, the sound of your name a tender breath on his lips. "I could not have believed that there would be anyone who could see the shadow of the man I once was and pull him from the ashes of his own demise."

When his gaze meets yours this time, it is open and warm. You feel as though you can see all of him in his dark, soulful eyes, perhaps fully for the first time. The walls are gone, and the man who had been trapped inside was finally free.

He cradles your face, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek. He mouths the words, "Thank you."

You lean into his touch, at a loss for words. The once-feared terrorist simply needed someone to believe in him again. Your eyes mist over wondering how many victims the world had torn down until there was nothing left of the person they once were or could be, and then labeled them monsters. "I didn't do anything," you stumble to say.

"Liebling, you did everything."

You chew the corner of your cheek under the heat of his gaze.

"You are everything to me." He lifts your chin to him, brushing a delicate kiss on your lips. "I need you to know that in case anything were ever to happen to me. Okay?"

You nod, understanding the importance of his words. You trusted his team—well, you tried to trust his team. There were those you had concerns about, but so far, they had always brought him back safe to you. "You're everything to me, too."

He kisses you softly and slowly, letting the warmth between the two of you blossom. Time falls away until all that remains is you. He will take his time, caressing and worshiping you, reminding you just how important and marvelous you are.

A/N: I headcanon this conversation had to take place before he could finally say I love you in "Three Words"

Tags in reblog, please let me know if you would like to be added or removed

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mahbonesmccoy · 3 years

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What's the worse that could happen? Fem!(Y/N) x Zemo Chap. 4

A/N: I know I update so so late hnngg sorry. Anyways, please do enjoy this fic I made. Thank you for reading!

Summary: Now that Zemo has taken you under his wing, would you trust your safety to him?

word count: 1.6k

part 3: https://thehalfbloodboi.tumblr.com/post/662498111207424000/whats-the-worse-that-could-happen-femyn-x

You remember distinctly how you parents were not that kind as you expect them to be. They were always at work when you were young while acing up your scores at school. The only time they cared is your interest and intellect of sciences was noticed and they decided to hone your skills, in the hopes that you will continue their work. So deprived with attention and love, you gave all your best to impress your parents. You got into a prestigious school, earning your degree with flying colours and unaware that it was Hydra paying for your education instead of your parents. You never knew they already sold you to Hydra to be their next pawn in a huge war you don’t have knowledge of. You thought you were working for something good, for the development of humanity but it turns out you were only there solely to develop the super soldier serum. Hydra wanted to get the best of minds just for the winter soldier program to be developed and you… are a perfect candidate.

You were always under surveillance for a month since you have shown hesitance to accept their offer to be one of their scientists and your parents made it clear that there’s no way out except if you are willing to take a bullet in your head. You are a risk Hydra was willing to take thanks to your brilliant mind and they have no plans to let you go… ever. When your parents died from an assassination, you knew you have to get out, but your fighting spirit became dormant when they made it clear to you that there’s no way out. You were considered one of the brightest that Arnim Zola, the German talking machine as you called him in your mind, praised you. You were permitted to stay in Camp Lehigh and was given a fake identity just to work on the serum under Arnim Zola’s watch.

“I still find it odd to see a woman so fascinated with science instead of-“

“Marriage? Children? Husband? Kitchen to organize?” There will never be a day he will stop talking about your gender related to your chosen field of work and you have to remind yourself now and then that he once lived in an era where women have no such privilege like you do. You became numb as time passes by for you while entertaining this talking computer during your working hours. You weren’t permitted to leave the camp but badly wanted to get out for once in a while just to escape Zola. You managed to sneak out during the night and the air has never been this fresh for you and it feels good to be alone. You weren’t supposed to leave but your feet acted upon itself, walking towards your temporary freedom. You were so distracted that you didn’t notice the time. Dread started to fill in your being and you started running silently back inside without being caught. Unaware, Arnim Zola knew you sneaked out but didn’t say anything yet.

The next morning during your experimentations with an axolotl, you were suddenly interrupted with one of the scientists around and told you were called by Zola. Convinced that this is going to be another tiring conversation, you silently make your way to the room where he was hidden.

“I know you went out, Engel.”

Engel… German for Angel. The use of endearment suddenly terrifies you. “I’m not a child anymore. My parents are dead and am I not allowed to have some fresh air during night-time?”

“Did you know why you have the strictest rule in here?”

“… No.”

“Because you have experienced normal life when you were just a little girl. Life isn’t always like that in Hydra… Do you want to be always in the run, mein Engel?”

“I didn’t ask to be in here!!”

“Oh, there’s the little girl… Your parents promised us you will always give your utmost service to Hydra. Even you brain, it was promised to us.”

Now that sounded evidently a threat to you. You stepped away from Zola, feeling your eyes welled up in tears out of fear. You knew your parents are cruel, but they stooped so low at this point even if they’re dead years ago.

“I did not consent to it!!”

“Who gave you the privilege of education, my dear? Hm? It was us… Is that how you repay us for being so generous?”

Out of instinct, you didn’t heed his words anymore and just dashed out of the room. With Zola being in control of the room, he sounded the alarm. You couldn’t stop shaking but you couldn’t also stop from running. You knew so well you couldn’t get pass the guards here with zero skills of fighting, so you did the unthinkable. You inject yourself some unfinished super soldier serum.

You gasps for air when you felt a pair of hands holding your shoulders, softly shaking you out of your slumber and Zemo slowly came into your view.

“It seems you’re having the cliché dream.”

Frowning, you push his hands away from you and avoided his gaze. Both of you were still in the jet but Oeznik had announced to Zemo that you are all close to the destination. Zemo decided to not bother you much for now and prepared himself before the jet could land.

“I basically grew up in Hydra…”

You suddenly confessed, interrupting Zemo’s moment of silence while he’s packing some of his things up and his silence compelled you to continue as you feel his eyes burning with curiosity behind you. You didn’t notice you are holding Zemo’s coat and brings It close to your face that you could smell the slight musk of his expensive cologne.

“My parents are assholes, handing their child to those people just because she’s a science prodigy. I don’t want to blame them for the sake of my peace, but they plague my dreams every night. Arnim Zola plagues my mind.”

Zemo melancholy observed you from behind. It’s safe to show a little emotions behind you for him, not wanting you to give the idea he’s gone softer for you. Zemo decided to not respond anything to your confession instead and gives you the time to grieve a little before setting your mind to the present again.

“We’re heading Germany. I have a place there.”

“Isn’t where you were incarcerated before?”

He smirked a little at you before turning his attention back to his duffle bag.

“Always let the enemy think you are far away. But don’t get too cocky from that either.”

“Is this your subtle way of telling me I am bad at hiding?”

That earned you a chuckle from the Baron.

“Well, technically, you are really bad at hiding if I’m the one hunting you. You just couldn’t resist on trying to make your life normal.”

It’s been so long since you went to Germany. You clearly don’t entirely remember that memory, but you were happy to be back in here. Despite the awful circumstances in life, you only remember that you were once happy here when your parents took you to Munich. After the plane was landed, you and Zemo went for another car ride before finally arriving at this place. Then it occurred to you that you don’t have a single possession with you but your phone, a couple of dollars in our wallet and your discarded coat.

“Don’t worry, you will have your clothes later. For now, I will have to brief you everything on what I’m trying to do here. Please do take a seat at the countertop while I make you some cherry blossom tea.”

Zemo eloquently makes his way to the kitchen while you are following him like a tail of a puppy from behind, taking in the beautiful architecture of his home. Or hideout… While waiting for the tea, Zemo did not waste any time to talk about pressing matters at hand. “I have files of every Identity from Hydra that I am trying to find, including yours. But since you are here being so generously kind to join me in this fiasco, I would like to take this advantage if you can tell me who these people are.”

“No I did not particularly join you because I want to hunt down some Hydra operatives, Baron. I am here with you because…”

You hesitated to tell him. You hesitated to be so vulnerable in front of him again but when you looked at him in the eye, you know that you have nothing in life but him. Helmut Zemo, Baron of Sokovia as your ticket to Freedom.

“Because I wanted to be safe, and I think you’re my best shot.”

You slowly avoid his gaze, feeling a little embarrassed. Zemo smiled at you faintly from your honesty. It gave him a little sense of pride that he was trusted instead of being feared. But he disliked the way you are so trusting… he will fix that in time. After all, he’s much willing to help you now.

“You will be safe when I’m done with this work. So, I need your knowledge so I could be steps ahead from them.”

“You told me if you cut one of Hydra’s head, it will multiply.”

“There’s no harm in trying, Schatzi. People like them do not deserve to live… You could have the normal life you wanted but they snatched it away. Sometimes, you do need a bit of revenge in your tea.”

“I can’t fight, Baron…”

“Yes… But you have me now.”

You snap your eyes back to him, but he already turned his back prepare the hot Cherry Blossom tea he promised for you. Your fingers starts to fidget, feeling a little bit embarrassed but you quickly snap yourself out when he finally serves the tea with biscuits and Turkish delights.

----

t@sapphiredreamer2

#baron helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo x reader #zemo x yn #mcu #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #zemo #x reader #marvel imagines #laszlo kreizler #helmut zemo #daniel bruhl x reader

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thelifeofbaronzemo · 3 years

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

Blog Navigation

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

💜 Fluff : all things fluffy and soft

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

💜 Bittersweet : fluff with a bit of angst or sorrow

💜 Angst: fics that hurt (I’m sorry)

💜 Smut (coming soon or eventually)

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

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

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

💜 Requests: fics I’ve written based on requests

💜 Fan Art : my Zemo commissions

Fics by Reader

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

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

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

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

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mlmxreader · 2 years

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Scraps | Helmut Zemo x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Hi! Can I request a Zemo x gn reader where the reader comes home with a bloody nose and bruises from being attacked? Zemo obviously gets really fucking mad and makes sure the people responsible for this will suffer.

summary: you and your best friend get jumped by some drunk assholes, and when your boyfriend finds out, he's ready to jump at their throats and make them pay... only, he has to make sure that you're alright, first.

tws: blood, injury, bruising, fights, alcohol consumption, swearing

It wasn't exactly like it hadn't been a long time coming, a bunch of assholes at the pub you and your best friend Frank often visited always making some sort of bullshit comment, and although you never threw the first punch, you and Frank had managed to get yourselves into a fight; sure, you worked well as a team, you were a fucking formidable pair and even your boyfriend Zemo had mentioned a few times that if there was anyone he didn't want to meet in a dark alley, it was you and Frank. But there were more of them than there were you, and while four of them held Frank down after kicking the shit out of him and even going so far as to knock his head against a fucking brick wall, two of them had started on you.

At least you could say you didn't throw the first punch; you and Frank were actually on your way home when they jumped you, taking you both by surprise. Of course you tried to fight back, but you could only do so much when Frank was practically out cold and you felt like you were getting your fucking teeth kicked in; at least they left you alone after they thought they had definitely knocked you and Frank out. But he picked you up, wrapping your arm around him as he helped you to get up and trudge home; the sight must have spooked a few people but you and Frank had gotten into worse scraps before. This was just a bunch of drunk assholes, this wasn't the likes of Billy Russo.

"You sure you're gonna be alright?" You asked, holding Frank's face in your hands when he got to the door, your brows furrowed.

Frank nodded, licking his split and bloodied lips. "Yeah, I'll get Micro to pick me up and patch me up - you gonna be good? Is Zemo home?"

You nodded, wincing a little. "Yeah, I'm not as beaten to shit as you... you wanna come inside and wait?"

"Best I don't," he told you with a shake of his head. "I'll wait on the steps outside."

"Alright, well... let me know how you're doing later, yeah?" You pulled away from him, steadying yourself against the door for a moment with a weak smile. "Y'know, we ain't had a scrap like that in ages - long overdue."

He dared to laugh, knocking on the door before he turned tail and yanked himself outside; you were worried, he was your best friend and he was badly hurt, but he was also the Punisher, he could look after himself. Micro would look after him. You went inside, groaning softly as pain shot through your shoulder, and you collapsed on the sofa, resting your head against one arm and kicking your feet up on the other, squeezing your eyes tightly shut.

"My god," Zemo breathed out, brows furrowed as he knelt beside you, one hand on your cheek and the other on your chest as he looked you over. "What happened? Tell me everything."

"Just some drunk assholes," you groaned. "Jumped me and Frank on the way home, beat us to fuck."

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head and working on getting you out of your clothes so that he could properly assess the damage; your nose was fucked without a doubt, you had bruises almost everywhere and it was clear that something sharp had caught your sides although it wasn't deep enough to cause any issues to your organs. At least there was that, none of it looked like it needed stitches. But you truly looked like you had been to Hell and back; he had to think quickly, discarding your clothes in the washing basket and setting everything up.

Liquor bottle. To steady his hands and to help you put up with the pain. Antiseptic. Bandages. Plasters. Painkillers. A cloth to bite down on. Kitchen paper. The speaker blaring 'How Many Tears to Nurture A Rose?' by Cradle Of Filth, if only to give you something he knew would cheer you up a little and would take your mind from it all. More than anything, though, he was angry.

How fucking dare someone bruise and bloody his partner? How fucking dare they hurt you?

He had more important things to focus on right now, like patching your wounds and making sure that you were going to, at least, not be in agony throughout the night; he was quick to work on it all, though. Blood soaked blue kitchen roll building up on the coffee table; empty plaster packages; a mountain of orange stained antiseptic wipes; a half empty bottle of Grant's whisky in your hands; a spit and blood covered cloth on the floor. The last of the strong painkillers finished off, the metal packet chucked in the pile with the rest of it. But it didn't take long at least, and Zemo was as careful as he could be; even though all he could think about was tracking those assholes down and making sure that they paid for what they did to you. Not so much Frank, you.

As he tightened up the last bandage, Zemo couldn't help but to sigh. "I'm going to find them, Bärchen, I'm going to make them all pay."

You groaned softly, offering him the whisky. "Can it wait til tomorrow? I'd quite like to see it."

He nodded, daring to smile a little as he traced the outskirts of the bruise on your jaw, knowing that he would give those responsible far far worse than a bruise. "Natürlich. I need to find them but... that won't be too hard, and I suppose Frank will want to join, too."

"More than likely," you tried to move to lay on your side, but Zemo pushed you down gently and kept you pinned there on your back. "Can I at least get in my own bed?"

"Not without help," he told you sternly. "It might actually be better if we both sleep here tonight."

You raised a brow, trying not to laugh because you knew that it would sting like a motherfucker if you did. "Why both of us?"

"Someone has to look after you," Zemo pointed out. "And as your boyfriend, that would be me. I won't hear any excuses."

"Fine, fine, alright," you mumbled. "You win."

"Thank you," he sighed, going to grab a couple of blankets and the pillows from the bed. At the very least he could make sure that you were comfortable. He set everything up, asking you if you were okay, if you needed anything extra, but you shook your head. "Tomorrow. I'll track them down tomorrow, and I'll make sure that they pay for what they did to you."

Watching Zemo make himself comfortable on the floor by the sofa, you let your hand drift down, letting him hold it tightly as he hummed softly; you cleared your throat. "Tomorrow... I think we all just gotta get some sleep for tonight. Pretty sure Frank's knocked the fuck out with some strong shit Micro dosed him on."

"I don't care about Frank, he can look after himself... but you... no one fucks with you, Bärchen, you're mine. I'll make sure they fucking suffer for what they've done."

He would, you didn't doubt it for a second; when Zemo got angry, he didn't just get even. Oh, no, he made whoever his wrath was directed at fucking wish for someone kinder, someone like Frank, they would beg and they would plead and they would sob and their snot would trickle down to their lips. But Zemo would drag out everything, when he got angry, he was more than dangerous. He was worse than you and Frank. Far, far worse. You almost wanted to pity those drunk assholes who had jumped you and your best friend, but you couldn't bring yourself to; you couldn't even force a fake beg for him to go easy on them. Zemo would make damn sure that each and every one of them would suffer, and he was capable of more cruelty than you and Frank were. He could be more cruel than anyone. At the end of the day, no one made Zemo angry, and those assholes were about to have an entire shit storm rain down on them.

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

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mlmxreader · 2 years

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Not On The Floors | Helmut Zemo x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Hey, can I request “You’re bleeding all over my freshly mopped floors” with zemo please? If you want to angst with a happy ending?

If not that alright, have a good night!

summary: in his biggest time of need, there’s only one person that Zemo can turn to for help, only one person that he can trust... he’ll even agree to mop the floors again in exchange.

tws: swearing, blood, injury, smoking, drinking

word count: 1080

You were enjoying your night, the last night home alone before Frank came back, when the doorbell rang; you had left the door unlocked for Frank, so you didn't think anything of it, thinking he was just announcing that he had returned, you didn’t even flinch when you heard the door slam; you only hoped that he wouldn’t drag fucking mud and shit all through the floors, you had mopped them not even an hour ago and they were only just dry.

“Frank, if you get shit all over my floor, I’m gonna kill you!”

“Es tut mir leid," you turned around to look at the voice, sighing when you saw Zemo, your boyfriend. “I need help, (y/n).”

You furrowed your brows, but when you saw the blood on his jacket, you clenched your jaw. “You’re bleeding all over my freshly mopped floors, Helmut. Fucking sit down.”

He did so with a laugh, but soon groaned when he shrugged his jacket off; across his forearm was a deep and awful gash, and he sighed as he looked at you. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

You grumbled in response, fetching the first aid kit; it was a good thing that Frank had taught you how to stitch wounds like that, but when you sat opposite Zemo, you frowned. Your hands were shaking, and your heart was thudding in your chest as you looked at the gash. “Fuck… can you not go to the hospital?”

Zemo shook his head, almost frantic as he reached for your hand, gripping it tightly, big brown eyes pleading as he gave you the best puppy dog eyes he could muster through the pain. “Bitte, Bärchen. Bitte.”

You groaned softly, wrenching your hand out of his grasp and turning your attention to the first aid kit; you rummaged around for a moment, finding the sewing kit and the antiseptic wipes. You grabbed the bandages and made him hold them in his free hand - he could break his knuckles gripping them while you worked, at least. “It’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker, you realise that, right?”

He nodded. “I’m ready when you are.”

You grabbed one of the larger antiseptic wipes, trying not to show how your eyes welled up with tears when he winced loudly, making you clench your jaw as you tried to work steadily; your hands were shaking something awful as you wiped down the wound, slowly turning the antiseptic wipe orange. You tossed it aside when it was spent, and grabbed another to keep wiping it down; you weren’t even halfway done by the time you had used six. Six more, and the wound was clean; there was no debris, there were no foreign objects, the edges weren’t jagged and at least it was definitely clean. You grabbed the needle, stuck it through his skin but paused when he growled so loudly that you almost thought you had heard a death rattle; you started to work on stitching up the wound, having to put more force on his arm than first expected, if only to stop him from wriggling around and moving so much. Your heart was fucking pounding, and you could feel your breathing pick up and get more shallow as you worked; sure, patching up similar wounds on Frank meant nothing to you, you had done it for so many years that it was almost instinct these days… but Zemo was different. You loved him in a different sense and in a different way, and when he cried out with pain, you almost wanted to stop altogether; but you had to keep going, and only when the wound was finally stitched up properly, you could at last stop. Licking your lips, your mouth felt dry as you took the bandages from him, working slowly and cautiously on wrapping the wound; you had to use that awful smelling surgical tape Frank bought a couple nights before he had left to make sure that it was secure.

“That too tight?”

“No,” he shook his head, his voice hoarse. “Thank you.”

You dared to smile sadly at him. “What happened?”

“I met that new guy,” he explained, “you know, the one that dresses in all white and everything is moon-shaped?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I know the guy. Frank takes the piss out of him every time they meet.”

Zemo smiled, although it did not mask the pain as he groaned softly, pulling his bandaged arm to his lap as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Well, he doesn’t like me a lot.”

You nodded. “How does it feel? The arm? I have some leftover painkillers from Frank’s last escapade. I still owe that damn nurse half a grand.”

“I’ll pay it,” he told you gently, shaking his head. “In exchange for a night here.”

You got up, abandoning him at the table for a moment so that you could roll two cigarettes; you sat back down opposite him, and chucked one his way. “Sure, I can do that. I’ll, uh, I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“You don’t have to,” Zemo said quietly. “I’m your boyfriend, we can share a bed.”

You frowned, scratching at the back of your neck. “That ain’t why. I don’t wanna accidentally smack that gash of yours while I’m sound asleep. It’d only make it worse.”

He let out a quiet hum, daring to take the lighter from you so that he could light his cigarette. “Thank you.”

“It’s alright,” you told him with a shake of your head, taking the lighter back and lighting your cigarette. You dared to laugh. “You owe me, though, you fucking bled all over my floors and I spent ages mopping ‘em.”

He smiled, nodding. “Of course, where are my manners, Bärchen?”

“Thank you,” you hummed, daring to nudge his shoulder as you raised your brows. “Fancy a beer?”

“I would kill for one,” he agreed.

You got up, and Zemo heard the fridge open, glass bottles clinking together before you snapped the lids off on the counter; but when you brought them over, you passed his over his shoulder, and dared to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“I missed you, y’know… after, y’know, I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“And yet here I am,” Zemo said quietly. “I told you, I will always return to your side. You’re the only one I can trust when things like this happen.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “I love you, too.”

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mlmxreader · 2 years

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Sugar, Sugar | Helmut Zemo x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: You said you’d marry Zemo for his money so I’m here asking for a sugarbaby x Zemo fanfic kdjskdjskd

Not one of those strictly business ones, more like he has money and he loves you more than anything so he buys you anything you could ever wish for. Plus it would be kinda funny if the reader just likes normal stuff, no designer things or anything outrageously expensive.

summary: Zemo loves you and he adores you, but when money gets tight for you, a new meaning to your relationship comes to light.

tws: sugar Daddy/sugar baby relationships, swearing, mentions of smoking

It didn't start out like this, in fact, it started out relatively normal; you and Zemo met through a mutual friend, Frank Castle, who had set you up when he thought that you two would get along. It started out as just a normal relationship; Zemo was your boyfriend and he liked to take care of you at every opportunity he could and at any moment that he could spare. He loved you, he really did. He loved you, he adored you, he wanted to take care of you; when Frank told him that money was a little tight for you, Zemo offered you something you couldn't resist.

An opportunity to be his sugar baby. You jumped at it, although you weren't sure if the relationship would change much, letting him take care of the money side of things for you and all you had to do was just... be the same as you were anyway; it didn't actually change that much, if you were honest. He simply took care of things and be spoiled you like there was no tomorrow; shopping trips became more regular, usually just grocery shopping and occasionally stopping in cheaping shops to check out what clothes they had.

"I can get you something designer," he would remind you, but you would shake your head. Designer rings and pretty things never had much of an appeal; the only big things you ever allowed him to buy were leather - real leather. Jackets, boots, belts. Good quality shit that would last a lifetime. The real leather. But that only happened a few times, even if he insisted that he could buy you one for every day of the week throughout the year.

Today was one such shopping trip, though, and as you held onto Zemo's arm, you frowned.

"We don't have to go in there, do we?" You asked when he gestured to one of the luxurious high street perfume shops. They sold decent cologne and aftershaves, sure, but the stuff you could get for a quarter of the price at Asda was better - and the bottles were bigger.

Zemo shook his head, humming softly. "Not if you don't want to... it's your day, (y/n), we can go wherever you want and I'll buy you whatever you want - that's the point of being your sugar Daddy, isn't it?"

You tugged him over to one of the cheaper shops, humming softly as you lead him over to the aisle where the snacks and drinks were. He raised a brow, but you shrugged. "You said you'd buy me whatever I want and the crisp cupboard is running low... plus, I kinda fancy a can of Monster."

"Alright," he laughed softly, letting you grab what you needed for at home. You never let him spoil you the way that he had thought you would; you never wanted diamonds and gold and silver and gems, you never wanted fancy cars or flashy clothes, you didn't want expensive or designer things. A can of Monster and a few packet of crisps would do just fine.

He let you live with him when you first became his sugar baby, and he was always finding you fixing something around the flat or painting something or anything that needed to be maintained; he could so easily pay to have someone come and do it but you always insisted on doing it yourself. Zemo loved that, it was endearing; all of his money, and yet you never seemed to want the luxury.

"What are you so happy about?" You asked when you noticed his smile, hardly to bite your own back as you raised a brow.

Zemo shrugged, patting your hand gently and kissing your temple. "I just think it's quite endearing that you have all my money if you want it - but the most expensive thing you've ever asked for is a leather jacket. And even then, that was more because they're practical, last long, and they're durable."

"They are," you told him. "I mean, you can buy that fake leather shit, but you'll never get the qualities of the real stuff."

He rolled his eyes, such a fond smile coming to his lips. "That's not the point. I'm your sugar Daddy, you can whatever you want."

"Yeah, but..." you held up the can of Monster. "This is all I want. I don't... I don't need fancy and expensive shit. I just need a boyfriend who buys my Monster and my tobacco and who lets me fix shit around his place."

"Our place," Zemo growled, letting go of you so that he could wrap his arm around your middle. "Not my place. Our place."

"Alright, our place," you scoffed, trying not to laugh as you leaned into him. "You're the best sugar Daddy I could ask for, by the way."

"If you're really good, I'll buy you a fifty gram pouch of tobacco," he teased.

"I'll be on my best behaviour, if that's the case."

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mlmxreader · 2 years

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

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

Hope you have a nice day!

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

tws: smoking, swearing, horror film mentions

word count: 1001

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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mlmxreader · 2 years

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Saintly | Helmut Zemo x m!reader (🍋)

Anonymous asked: Z-zemo smut 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 I- this man needs to make me get on my knees and then tilt my chin up and praise me until I die or something

I want him to make me cry from feeling too good 🙏🏻🙏🏻

summary: it’s a special night, and all Zemo wants to do is to make you feel like you’re in heaven

tws: swearing, spanking, anal sex, praise kink, religious imagery

word count: 1509

MINORS DNI

You were always so eager for Zemo, always begging and pleading for the most simple of touches, the most gentle of his kisses and the most sweet of his slaps and bites that he so eagerly landed against your skin every single time that you simply looked at him; he always loved it so fucking much when you were on your knees for him, when you were so fucking eager just to be there and just to watch him, whether he was touching himself while he looked at you, or whether he had… other plans for you.

Tonight, though, he had… a few plans for you; with you on your knees, all lubed up and already so eager for him that you were practically crying for his attention, for his touch and for his kiss. Already so fucking desperate and so fucking needy for him. The carpet dug into your knees, leaving imprints on your skin as the cold air hit your skin and the handcuffs that bound your wrists behind your back bit into the soft flesh, and when his thumb gently ran along your bottom lip, you could not stop the whimper that left the back of your throat.

“Such a good boy,” Zemo said lowly, his voice thick with amusement and that fucking stupid smug attitude. “Aren’t you? Hmm?”

He let his grip fall to your chin, grasping it between his forefinger and thumb as he tilted your head up ever so slightly, just to look into your eyes and to see how fucking eager and desperate you were for him; by now, he would have covered you in bruises and bite marks. By now, he would have made you beg for him to go further, to make you bleed, to make you squirm for him as your voice became strangled, hoarse, muted from the way he gripped your throat so tightly. But tonight was different, tonight was a lot more special than most. An anniversary. A night where he wanted little more than to treat you like the fucking prince he wanted you to be.

“Always good for you,” you breathed out with a nod. “Always.”

“Bend over my desk,” Zemo growled, tilting his head so that he could gesture to it. “Now.”

You swallowed thickly, waiting for him to pull away before you did as he said, bending over the dark brownish red wood, you waited for him to unlock the handcuffs before you could stretch your arms over it, and when he locked them to the drawer closest to you, you couldn’t help but to growl softly under your breath. You licked your lips, shaky breaths leaving you as you readied yourself for what he was about to do.

“You’ve been a good boy,” he praised once more, coming to stand beside you and running his hand up and down your ass. “Tell me - what do you want me to do with you?”

“I want you to fuck me,” you could hardly get the words out, nodding and trying your best not to wriggle your ass just so you could feel his skin on yours. “Please, Baron. I want you to fuck me.”

“Say it again,” Zemo hissed, getting behind you and rubbing your ass again, ready to slap it at a moment’s notice. “C’mon, be a good boy and say it again.”

“I want you to fuck me,” your voice was getting weaker by the moment. “Please, I want you to fuck me.”

Slowly, his movements calculated and almost tortuous as he lined himself up behind you, Zemo pressed his body against yours, groaning softly before he eased himself into your ass, clenching his jaw as he grabbed the back of your neck with one hand and letting his other hand rest on your hip. “That feel good? Hmm, mein Prinz?"

“Yeah,” you could hardly speak, pushing back against him and trying to fuck yourself against him, but when he delivered a harsh slap to your ass, you bit your lip, and whimpered softly under your breath. “Do that again, please… please, Baron.”

Zemo couldn’t deny such a sweet little beg, bringing his hand down against your ass once more, harsher this time, before starting to pick up his pace; snapping his hips as he pounded into you, his grip around the back of your neck getting harder as he forced you to stay still against the desk, not caring that you were starting to sweat and to lose your ability to speak. All he cared about was claiming you, making you his as much as he could.

“Sehr gut,” he breathed out, biting at the inside of his lip. “Such a good boy for me, aren’t you?”

Shit, he made you feel so good, the way he seemed to hit all the right and sweet spots of your ass and make you pant and moan for him, coming undone in just a few moments, you couldn’t stop yourself as your eyes welled up with tears and you pressed your forehead against the dark wood of the desk; all you wanted was for him to make you cum, was for him to make you feel like you meant every-fucking-thing in the world to him. All you wanted was for him to claim you. To fucking ruin your body so that only he could ever make you cum, could ever please you. Ruin you so that no one’s touch could ever make you feel a damn thing, except his; your Baron’s.

Your Baron. The only man who could ever drive you so fucking wild in so little time.

Zemo didn’t let up, though, slapping your ass again and digging his fingernails into the flesh at the back of your neck so much that you could only squirm and beg softly for him to keep going, begging between soft and gentle sobs; he was pounding into you so well that all you wanted was to cum. All you needed was for him to keep praising you, keep slapping your ass while he pounded it. All you needed was him.

“Good boy,” Zemo praised softly. “You’re so, so good, mein prinz… fuck, I might have to make you cum more than once tonight - would you like that?”

“Later,” you couldn’t whimper out anything else, your voice so hoarse and so strangled and so raw that just the single word made it scratch the sides of your throat.

“Later it is,” he promised you softly, growling softly as he kept up his quick and harsh pace, slapping your ass. “Fuck, you’re being such a good boy… sehr gut.”

You couldn’t hold yourself back, trying so desperately to fuck yourself on his cock despite the fact that he was holding you down by the neck, all whimpers and moans and grunts and growls; release starting to build up as you let out a string of howls of his name under your breath. It sounded like a fucking prayer. Like you were begging him to cleanse every sin you had ever committed. Every sacrilegious act washed from your bones. Every time you called his name, it sounded little more than like a prayer. Like he was a Saint. Your Saint.

The one who could rid you of your sins. The one who could answer every and any prayer. And shit, when you called his name like that, even Zemo had to admit that he felt a little godly. He felt like he wasn’t just any god, but your god; like only he could ever be the one to forgive any of your sins. No gods and no masters could ever come close to him; he was your Saint. He was your saviour. His touch was holy and his words were commandments. A Saint, a saviour, the only one who could have you down on your knees begging for forgiveness. The only one that mattered. Divine. Angelic. Heavenly.

“That’s it,” Zemo praised softly. “Cum for your Baron, mein prinz. Be a good boy and cum for me.”

You weren’t ever going to disobey such a commandment, letting yourself go, become undone; letting all those sins wash away as you howled and moaned and let him deify you. Make you holy. Sanctify you.

You didn’t want him to stop, though, you didn’t want him to ever stop, and when he started to fill your ass with his cum, you couldn’t help but to wish that he could have kept going; that he could have washed you of your sins completely, that he could have made you feel like a divine being - like him.

Letting go of you, Zemo pressed his forehead against the back of your neck as he doubled over, letting his hands lay limp either side of you as his hot breath traced your skin.

“Such a good boy,” Zemo whispered. “All mine… only mine.”

“I wanna keep going,” you said softly. “Please, Baron?”

“Give me a moment, mein prinz,” he couldn’t help but to laugh softly. “We’ll go for round two once I’ve caught my breath, ja?”

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mlmxreader · 2 years

Text

Was Ich Liebe | Helmut Zemo x gn!reader

summary: when Sam and Bucky ask you and Frank to look after Zemo for a while, you end up feeling something that you never would have expected before.

tws: swearing, smoking, mentions of violence, jealous, possession, drinking

word count: 5433

You and Frank had been living together for years, since before his Punisher years, as he couldn't afford a place on his own, and neither could you; as close friends, family really, it only made sense that the two of you would end up living together somehow. You patched his wounds, you hid him away from everyone who was chasing after him, you kept him a secret when he needed to be; you were his best friend, and at times, it felt a lot like you were his only friend. You enjoyed it, though, being able to spend so much time with him, being able to act like your best friend wasn't also one of the most wanted men on the planet; you were at peace, and whenever Frank snuck in, he felt much the same.

Nobody ever bothered you, nobody came asking for favours, nobody ever disturbed or shattered that peace; Frank made damn sure of that, keeping you and your home together far, far away from his work as the Punisher, the more distance he could make, the better.

It felt redundant to say, but when Frank trudged in with his hand around a guy in a purple mask's fur coat collar, you were more than surprised.

"Frank, what the fuck?"

He shrugged, roughly removing the guy's mask. He didn't miss the way you looked at the stranger. He rolled his eyes. "This here's Zemo."

Zemo went to extend his hand, but Frank slapped it away and glared at him.

"Right," you couldn't take your eyes off of the stranger. "And why's he in our home, exactly?"

Frank sighed, running a hand down his face as he grumbled. "I owe Sam Wilson a favour… he asked if I'd make sure this little shit doesn't go anywhere."

"Oh, great," you muttered. "So now we're in debt to Captain America himself? Well done, Frankie."

"Blame yourself," he growled, shoving the stranger aside. "You were the one that broke his pool table."

"I said I'd pay for it," you pointed out. "Not that I'd babysit a…" you turned to the stranger with a raised brow, "what are you?"

"A Baron," he replied.

You turned back to Frank. "Not that I'd babysit a Baron."

"He's got a rap sheet half a mile long," Frank hissed. "He's lucky he's still breathing."

You shook your head, gesturing for him to leave. "Go make a cup of coffee."

Chuckling, Frank shot you a smile as he dared to move away. "Yessir."

"You bicker like you're siblings," the stranger said.

But you scoffed as you took a seat on the sofa and sighed. "Who are you?"

"Baron Helmut Zemo," he didn't dare to move across the room to shake your hand, not with the Punisher around. "And who are you, gutaussehend?"

"I'm the one that won't rough you up," you laughed softly. "(y/n)."

"A pleasure," he nodded curtly. "Really."

You dared to smile at him. "The feeling's mutual."

Zemo hung his head as he dared to crack a small smile, chewing at the inside of his lip; he was about to say something when Frank came trudging back in, passing you a cup of coffee as he sat beside you.

"Don't listen to a goddamn word he says," Frank rumbled. "I got told he's a great manipulator."

You shrugged your friend off with a shake of your head. "Would you quit complaining?"

"He's responsible for all that bullshit between the Avengers," Frank muttered. "I got every goddamn right to complain… dragging me into their bullshit like this."

"In my defense-"

"Shut it," Frank hissed, glaring at Zemo.

The Winter Soldier had been one thing. Dealing with Sam and Bucky had been one thing. But Frank? Frank really did scare Zemo; word of the Punisher, what he did to people who deserved it, it scared even Zemo. Nobody fucked with the Punisher, and there was a damn good reason for that. Frank wasn't like the others, he wasn't like Sam or Bucky - Frank would kill. From the stories, it sounded like he was happy to do it, too.

"You're scaring him," you said gently.

"Good," Frank scoffed. "I should fucking hope so."

You sighed, shaking your head as you turned to Zemo. "Did he at least grab stuff for you to wear other than that?"

"Yes," Zemo answered with a curt nod.

"Where'd he chuck it?" You set your coffee aside and slapped a hand over Frank's mouth.

"In the car boot," Zemo wanted to smile at the fact that you had so casually covered your friend's mouth, he wanted to laugh when the big bad Punisher dared to lick your palm, making you groan and grumble in disgust.

"You're so fucking disgusting, sometimes," you got up, the sound of Frank's laughter following you as you went and grabbed the car keys. "I'll go get your things, Zemo… don't worry about Frank, he won't bite."

The second the door closed behind you, Frank crossed the room, pinning Zemo to the chair with his hand on his shoulder, his voice low and coarse - the same one he used when talking to the cunts he killed.

"You so much as even fucking look at (y/n), and I'll rip your eyes out," he threatened. "One wrong move, Zemo, that's all it takes and then… one batch, two batch, penny and dime."

Zemo could only nod slowly, he knew what Frank was capable of, everyone did, and he didn't quite fancy being on the receiving end of it. He didn't want to know what Frank would do, from the stories, he knew that the man was capable of great brutality and great graphic gore. He didn't want to find out if they were true.

Frank moved away again, taking his seat on the sofa once more, his jaw clenched as he picked up the television remote and turned it on; it was already playing one of your playlists, this one happened to have a little bit everything - some Tina Turner, some Sabaton, some Trivium, some Slayer, some Metallica, some ABBA. Frank turned the volume up a little, finally relaxing as he leaned back against the soft cushions. Zemo didn't dare to move - not until the door opened and you held up a bag.

"This the one?"

"Yes, thank you," he nodded.

"Come with me," you gestured for him to follow, and he did so with little hesitation. You lead him to the bedrooms. "Now, there's only two - so, uh, would you rather sleep in the same room as the guy who might rip your head off in the middle of the night, or would you rather be woken up by Rammstein at three in the morning?"

"Rammstein sounds… better," he shrugged, entering the room with you. He took a look around and frowned a little; it was nowhere near as bad as the cell in Berlin, but it wasn't exactly the luxury he had known for most of his life, either.

"You can use that cupboard," you pointed over to it. "Unpack your shit, make yourself comfy."

Zemo gently grabbed your wrist when you turned around, pulling you close as he dared to smile, his voice soft and quiet. "Thank you, (y/n)."

You could feel your heartbeat pick up a little, a certain thudding thunder coming to the side of your throat as you looked into those big brown beautiful eyes. "No need to thank me, just… get as comfy as you can."

He dared to let you go, clearing his throat as he turned to his bag and started to take out his things; you sighed as you headed downstairs, finally able to confront Frank.

"You didn't fucking tell me he was fit as fuck, you ass!"

Frank rolled his eyes. "I knew you thought he was your type the second you saw his face."

"Frank, this ain't funny," you growled. "How the fuck are we meant to put him up until Sam and Bucky can grab him, if I'm wanting to fuck him?"

"Easy," Frank shrugged. "Just don't."

You folded your arms across your chest, glaring at him as you clenched your jaw. "Don't you dare hurt him."

"Now," he tutted, raising a brow as he tilted his head a little to the side. "Why would I do that?"

"You said he's got a rap sheet half a mile long," you started, "in your books, he deserves it."

"You ain't wrong," he held up his hands. "But I ain't gonna hurt him. I'm smart enough to know not to piss Captain America off."

"You better be," you warned with a huff. "You really fucking better be."

══════════════════

Frank left that same evening, abandoning you and trusting that you wouldn't do anything stupid, he had work to do, and he knew it would be a while; he had to go two States over and get through a shit tonne of forest, he wasn't going to be less than twelve hours. But he left you in charge of Zemo, hoping that you wouldn't do anything stupid. Really, really hoping.

It was around five minutes after he had left that you had decided to go to bed, with Zemo in the bathroom, you stripped off and yanked a pair of fluffy pyjama bottoms on before crawling into bed; unfortunately for him, Zemo had to have the chair next to the bed instead of an actual mattress. But he had said that it would be fine. You hoped so.

You yanked at the thin blanket, pulling it over you as you rolled onto your side and started to scroll through your phone; you didn't look up when he walked in, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, but then he paused for a moment to look at you. He cleared his throat as he sat down on the chair, pulling a red blanket across his lap as he met your gaze with a soft smile.

"I don't think your friend would like us being so physically close."

"No, but he'll get over it," you chuckled, putting your phone down and smiling back at him. "Y'know, I think there's room enough in this bed for us both… might save your back and your neck a little bit to sleep on an actual mattress."

Zemo bit at the inside of his lip as he let out a shaky breath, not even audible. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," you nodded, moving over to make space for him. "Trust me, that chair ain't fit for sleeping in."

“As long as you’re sure,” he muttered, daring to slip beneath the blanket beside you, careful not to touch you - he wouldn’t dream of such a thing, not unless if you asked him to.

You cleared your throat, getting a little closer until your head was on his chest, and you grabbed the remote for the television, quickly putting on ‘Hostel’ before you dared to relax again.

Zemo wasn’t sure about the film to begin with, if he was honest, as he was never entirely all that keen on films of such a graphic nature, but when he stole a look at you and saw a look in your eyes that could not be mistaken for anything except passion, he started to see it in a different light; he started to respect the film a little more, just because you were so keen on it. It was around halfway through the film when he dared to speak up at last.

“How long is Mister Castle usually gone for?”

“Anywhere from an hour to all night,” you replied quietly, your gaze never leaving the television, “sometimes, he can be gone for days.”

“Does he not worry about you?” Zemo asked with a little bit of genuine concern.

“Sure he does,” you muttered. “But Frank’s known me for a Hell of a long time. He knows I’m not helpless - plus, he keeps his work away.”

He nodded, biting at the inside of his lip again, unable to admit that if he was as close to you as Frank was, he would have been worried sick about so much as stepping out of the house; with a job like Frank’s, it would be more than difficult not to worry about loved ones.

“Besides,” you yawned, stretching and groaning a little. “Uncle Logan is only down the street.”

“Logan?”

“Yeah, Logan,” you nodded. “He was a friend of my family growing up - taught me how to handle myself in a fight. Between him and Frank, there’s really nothing to worry about.”

Zemo had heard that name somewhere before, Sam had mentioned it when talking about a school for gifted youngsters, he was sure that Sam had said there was someone called Logan there - “grumpy old man with can openers between his knuckles,” - but surely it wasn’t the same man; Logan was a very popular name, there was no way it could have been the same man at all.

“But you’re not a-”

“A superhero?” You scoffed, shaking your head. “No. I just know how to fight… and my best friend happens to be one of the most dangerous men to ever exist.”

══════════════════

You weren’t sure when it happened, between the end of ‘Hostel’ and the start of ‘Cabin Fever’, you had fallen asleep somewhere along the lines, your head on Zemo’s chest, one arm across his stomach and the other under his back, your leg thrown over his hip; somewhere along the lines, you had fallen asleep together, but when you woke in the morning, it wasn’t because Frank had done his usual - kicked the end of your bed and asked what you wanted for breakfast - it was because there was an unusual smell coming from the kitchen. It smelled like someone was cooking, but it couldn’t have been; you and Frank rarely had time or money to actually cook meals, and if you ever did, you usually reserved them for special occasions - birthdays, holidays, to celebrate good news - and always reserved it for evening meals.

You were confused, heading downstairs as you rubbed your eyes, immediately going to the fridge first and foremost and pulling out a can of Red Bull; you cracked it open and took a swig before you dared to look at the state of the kitchen.

Zemo, still wearing just his boxers, a tea-towel thrown over his shoulder, turned to you with a smile. “Good morning. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought I would make breakfast - as thanks for last night.”

You scratched the back of your neck, furrowing your brows as you tilted your head to the side, slowly nodding. “We don’t usually cook ‘round here, y’know.”

“I can tell,” he said. “Go sit down, it won’t be long.”

“Long enough for me to have a quick smoke?”

“I suppose.”

══════════════════

It went on like that for a while, at least a fair few weeks; you and Zemo would sleep in your bed all cuddled up to one another at night, in the morning he would make breakfast for you and sometimes Frank - when he was around - and then make another meal for dinner just for you and him and a final one for tea - which usually Frank also attended. During the day, you would show Zemo your favourite films and let him show you some of his, you would listen to music together and occasionally dance around, you would talk at length; every now and then, you would even ask Zemo for his help in deciding what to wear for the day, something he was all too happy to help with. He didn’t think it was worth telling you, but he had started to pay your rent for you; when you were busy with something and had your back turned, he would sneak off and pay the landlord - he knew how much living with Frank meant to you, he knew how desperate you both were, and he wanted to at least give his own back in exchange for Frank not gouging his eyes out every time he looked at you. He paid about a year’s worth of rent by the end of the month.

You were getting closer, though, starting to cuddle up on the sofa together whilst watching films, getting so close that you could feel his breath on your features when he pulled you in close whilst dancing; pressing your forehead against his back when he was chopping something up whilst preparing dinner, your arms around his waist; sitting on the counter and talking to him about anything and everything while he was putting a meal together; you stopped eating at opposite ends of the table, preferring to sit right next to one another instead, your knee pressed against his as he leaned into you a little more.

You were getting closer by the day, and you were starting to realise - you didn’t want Zemo to leave. You wanted him to stay, you wanted to know what his kiss tasted like and what his hands would feel like holding yours, you wanted to know what it would be like to go on actual dates with him, you wanted to know what it would be like to belong to him. You knew, though, that such a thing could never happen; if you had been living alone, then it would have been possible, but Frank was not keen on Zemo - even if he did quietly admit to you that he did enjoy the meals that Zemo cooked for you both. So, you went to the one person you knew you could talk to about it: Uncle Logan.

══════════════════

Logan came over on a day where Zemo was in the living room reading, and Frank was off getting the weekly shop; he went down to the bottom of the garden with you, rolled two cigarettes, and gave one to you before lighting his own.

“Alright, what have you done now?”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you took a drag from your cigarette. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Yet,” Logan pointed out, noticing the way you were a little on-edge. “What is it?”

“It’s Zemo,” you muttered, licking your lips and taking a deep breath as you looked at him. “I think… shit, Logan, I think I’ve fallen for him.”

He dared to laugh a little, running a hand through his hair as he nodded. “Look, kid, you want my advice? Just be honest.”

“This coming from the guy who told Magneto and Professor X to fuck themselves,” you hummed. “Honesty isn’t the issue here.”

“Then what is?”

“Frank,” you muttered, sighing heavily. “He fucking hates Zemo and-”

“You and Frank have been friends since you were babies,” Logan huffed. “He might talk and act tough, but you know he’s a softie.”

You raised a brow as you looked him in the eyes, a smile coming to your lips. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Logan rolled his eyes at you as he scoffed. “I helped raise you, (y/n). I know how close you and Frank are, but if you like this guy, your best bet is just to be honest about it, alright?”

“Alright,” you nodded. “Thanks, Uncle Logan.”

“Does he know?” He asked. “I mean, this guy hates super-soldiers, right?”

“Right… I didn’t say anything about you, though,” you reassured. “You’re not a super-soldier, anyway. The only thing them cunts altered was your bones.”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna piss of the guy who managed to fuck over the Avengers.”

“Didn’t you say that they were the most stupid, idiotic, selfish bastards to exist?”

“Yeah, and I stand by that.”

“I think you should be worried more about him becoming your new best friend, if that’s the case.”

══════════════════

When Logan left, you knew that there was only one thing you had to do, you knew what you had to do and how to do it, but when you saw Zemo in the living room, his legs spread as he read one of your books - it looked a lot like American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis - you weren’t sure if you could go through with it; doubt started to bubble up in your stomach, making it churn as your throat began to feel dry and coarse, you caught your bottom lip between your teeth as you let out a shaky breath, swallowing thickly. Logan told you to just be honest. You dared to move closer, and when Zemo lifted his arms up so that you could sit on his lap, you did so with a quiet eagerness, letting him put an arm around your back whilst leaning it on the sofa’s arm, holding the book in his free hand as he continued to read for a moment; it didn’t exactly take him long to realise that something was wrong.

“What is it?”

“Zemo, what if…” you swallowed thickly, able to feel your heart thud against your chest. “What if I told you I… felt things for you?”

“I would tell you that if your feelings are romantic, then they’re reciprocated,” he admitted with a soft chuckle. “Why?”

“They’re… they’re reciprocated?” You asked quietly, biting at the inside of your top lip.

“Well, yeah,” he nodded. “Over the short time we’ve known each other, (Y/n), I have to admit - I’m very fond of you.”

“So, if I uh, if I asked you out…” you took in another deep breath. “You would say yes?”

“I would,” he nodded again. “Would you flip the page for me, please, mein Bärchen?”

You did as he asked, leaning into him a little more so that your shoulder was pressed into him, letting him rest his chin on top of your head as he hummed softly; you didn’t need a big romantic gesture to know that it was official now, you didn’t need some big dramatic gesture or some long and heated kiss to know. All you needed was the way he held you so close, the way he gently asked for you to turn the page of the book he was borrowing from you.

Now you just had to figure out how to tell Frank.

══════════════════

You didn’t want to tell him right away, as you knew that he would need time and space to process everything, which was why you waited until he announced that he was going away for a while; on the trail of someone who had done things that even Frank wouldn’t mention, but because they were halfway across the goddamn country and then some, Frank had told you that he would be gone for at least a week or two - depending on how slippery and sly the asshole was. It was damn near perfect, until Sam came wandering in while Frank was getting ready to leave.

Frank was out back sorting out what he would need for his little trip, which was where Sam went first and foremost, tapping the Punisher on the shoulder and clearing his throat.

“How’s it going?” Sam asked, letting himself take one of Frank’s beers and cracking it open. He took a quick swig.

Frank sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against the workbench and folded his arms across his chest, shrugging. “It ain’t bad, but…”

“But?”

“(y/n) and Zemo are friends now,” Frank chuckled, shaking his head. “They’re actually friends. He’s even managed to befriend Logan.”

“Logan?” Sam let out a whistle as he shook his head. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Frank nodded. “It ain’t all that bad, though. I mean, he cooks, and he’s pretty damn good at it, too. He’s been behaving himself, too, thankfully.”

“He better be,” Sam huffed. “Do you need any help with anything? Least I could do for you agreeing to babysit.”

Frank shook his head, smiling at Sam for a moment. “We’re good - besides, we owed you for the pool table.”

Laughing softly, Sam shook his head. “Don’t worry about it… seriously, though, if you need anything, you know where I am.”

“I know, thank you,” Frank nodded, sighing as he made a move to pack up a few more boxes of ammunition. “Y’know, I always did prefer you over the other guy. I’m glad it was you that picked up the shield.”

“Thank you,” Sam smiled back, clapping Frank on the shoulder. “Where are they?”

“Front room,” Frank shrugged. “C’mon, I need something to eat.”

Following Frank inside, Sam couldn’t help but to let out a noise when he looked into the living room; on the sofa, you and Zemo were cuddled up, your lips pressed to his neck and your arm slung over him, the other one beneath your head to give you a little comfort, your leg over his waist as he held onto you tightly. Sam almost couldn’t believe it, but when Frank came to see, he simply shrugged.

“They do it all the time,” he explained, “it’s normal.”

“Normal?” Sam grumbled. “Frank, they’re cuddling.”

“Yeah, for those two, it’s normal,” Frank replied, “shit, it’s nothing me and (y/n) don’t do.”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck as he shook his head, taking a step into the living room and knocking gently on the doorframe; within an instant, you and Zemo perked up, lazily waving at him.

“Ah, Sam,” Zemo smiled. “I wondered when you would come to visit.”

“I’ve seen enough,” Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Frank, do you need help getting everything loaded up?”

“Yeah, I could use a hand,” Frank agreed with a shrug. “Car’s out front.”

“Let’s go,” Sam agreed. “You can drop me off on the way, right?”

“Right.”

You waited for the two to leave before you turned to Zemo, biting your lip as you tried not to laugh. “I don’t think they’re happy, y’know.”

“I don’t think they are,” he agreed with a shake of his head, but then he turned to you, and ever so gently, pressed a kiss to your lips. “But at least we’ll be alone for a while, won’t we?”

══════════════════

The first couple of days, everything was fine between you and Zemo; you did everything together as a romantic couple, no longer feeling the need to ever hide anything - not your relationship, not your care for each other. It got to the point where one night, while you were singing and dancing around in the kitchen, probably keeping the entire neighbourhood awake, you stopped - you pulled out your phone, encouraging Zemo to take a picture with you; he was quite eager to do it, even taking a few of him kissing you, his hand on your jaw to keep you close while he took the phone in his other hand and used it to snap the pictures. You debated posting it for a little while, too distracted by the way he held you and how he kissed you, up until his phone rang.

“It’s Frank,” he muttered, handing the phone to you and running a hand through his hair. “Should I answer it?”

“I’ll do it,” you shrugged, clicking the answer button and putting the phone on speaker, leaving it on the closest counter. “Frank, why aren’t you calling my phone?”

“Zemo’s number was at the top,” came the crackly and quiet reply, “how are you doing? Is he behaving?”

Zemo stood beside you, gently coaxing you closer, his hands on the waistband of your jeans as he kept you close, your back against his chest; he tilted his head a little to the side, starting to kiss at your neck gently, forcing you to stifle a laugh and to slap at his wrist.

“Yeah, he’s behaving,” you replied, “we had Logan swing by the other day - didn’t he send you the picture?”

“The one of you two sound asleep out back? Yeah, I saw it.”

"See?" You chuckled, biting down on your bottom lip when Zemo started to gently bite and suck at your neck. "He's behaving."

Zemo grabbed your phone when you nodded at him to let him know he could, going onto your social media and pulling up the picture of you and him; he dared to post it with the caption was ich liebe.

"Yeah, alright," Frank hummed. "Look, I ain't sure when I'll be home."

"What do you mean?" Your voice cracked a little with worry.

"This one's tough," he explained, "slips away every time we come close… it's gonna take a while to catch 'em."

"Oh," you sighed, relief flooding your voice. "So it's not because you're hurt?"

"Aside from a few stinging nettles, I'm fine," he laughed softly. But then there was a vibration sound, and he growled lowly.

"What?" You asked.

"Logan just texted me," he explained, "it's from your social."

"Yeah?" You mused, turning around and letting Zemo pin you against the counter, his hands bracing it tightly as he pressed up against you, welcoming the feeling of one hand in his hair, the other on his jaw. "What'd he say?"

"There's a fucking picture of you," Frank started, "you and Zemo. What the fuck? Are you two-"

"Come on, mein Bärchen, hurry up," Zemo growled, just loud enough for the phone's speakers to pick it up. "I want to kiss you again."

Frank's voice got louder as he repeated the question, "hey, what the fuck?"

Your eyes went wide as you kept your eyes on Zemo, silence following for a minute before you cleared your throat and dared to answer, "don't be mad."

"(y/n), what the fuck?" Frank almost shouted. "You're dating him?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, hanging your head and pressing it against Zemo, welcoming the feeling of his arms around you tightly. "Yeah, we've… we've been doing it for a while…"

"Jesus Christ!" Frank spat. "Y'know what? We'll talk about this when we get back… Jesus Christ…"

══════════════════

It was painful, waiting for Frank to get back home, but the days and nights that you spent with Zemo more than made up for it; the nights cuddled up watching films, the days sat with him as he read, the afternoons lounging in the garden together. It more than made up for the increasing anxiety over how Frank would react when he got home; but when he did, he was… at peace with it. He stopped being so intimidating and aggressive towards Zemo, he started to laugh and joke with him, he started to open up a little; to say the least, you were so glad of that - your best friend and your boyfriend finally getting along. It was all too good to be true.

And when you, Zemo and Frank met up with Matt Murdock at a local pub, suddenly reality hit.

Matt was always flirtatious with you, he always turned on the charm, and he didn't seem to realise that you and Zemo were actually a couple.

"You smell really good tonight, (y/n)," Matt smiled. "Did you switch from your usual stuff?"

"I did, yeah," you confirmed. "You noticed?"

"I always notice when it comes to you," he replied, chuckling softly. "I bet you look really good, too."

"Excuse me," Zemo cleared his throat as he leaned his forearms on the table and hunched over a little. "I don't like it when you flirt with my partner, Mister Murdock."

Matt tilted his head to the side, the pub lights shining on his red glasses. "Sorry? Who are you?"

"Baron Helmut Zemo," he growled, shaking his head. "(y/n)'s boyfriend."

Matt nodded slowly, daring to laugh a little. "My bad. I didn't realise."

"C'mon, it's just a bit of fun," you shrugged. "Right, Matt?"

"Yeah," he leaned back. "It's just fun."

But Zemo didn't like that, and by the time that you were walking home, leaving Frank and Matt to talk business, he was getting rather possessive; you welcomed it when he pulled you into an alleyway, pinning you between cold bricks and his body, his hands either side of your face as he kissed you harshly, enough to make you moan against him, burying a hand in his hair as the other gripped the front of his shirt to try and pull him closer.

"You're mine," Zemo growled against your lips. "Aren't you?"

"All yours," you panted out, desperate and needy for him; his touch, his kiss, anything. "Only yours, Zemo."

"Good," he praised quietly. "Say it again for me, please?"

"I'm all yours and only yours," you said softly, pressing your forehead against his. "I love you."

"I love you, too, mein Bärchen," he whispered, backing off enough to let you crush yourself against his side. "Shall we go home?"

"Yes."

102 notes · View notes

mlmxreader · 2 years

Text

All Yours | Helmut Zemo x gn!reader

@befreebehappya012 asked: Could I please request “I don’t give a fuck” from Jack’s bored prompts with Zemo and gender neutral reader..? Maybe its some sort of undercover situation but things get spicy? Or it could be anything man wherever you feel like going with this!!!

summary: you and Zemo have to pose as a rich and wealthy couple for a night, but when you run into a certain someone you’ve been looking for since you met him, Zemo can’t help but to get a little jealous.

tws: swearing, cigarettes, jealousy, a little bit of possession, choking kink, sexual references, alcohol

word count: 2040

MINORS DNI

You and Zemo were nominated as the ones to go to some fancy event to see if you could gather some information on something that, if you were honest, you didn’t really give a shit about; you only bothered to join Zemo, Sam and Bucky after you had found out that your original partner, Frank Castle, had gone missing. Frank was your friend, as well as the person you fought alongside, and you wanted to find him - you wanted to know that he was safe after his mug was plastered everywhere, something to do with being wanted for murder. Again. Sam offered you a place on his team, just until you managed to find Frank, and you agreed; but what you didn’t expect was that when you did join them, you found a sort of soft spot growing for a certain Baron.

You hated it to begin with, the thought of wanting to be with someone who undoubtedly would have given up your friend if he saw him, but then you came to realise - Zemo wouldn’t give up Frank. Not just because he despised super soldiers and the Avengers, but because he was… he was kind of a decent guy.

So here you were, dressed your finest as you sipped on some disgusting champagne that made your mouth feel dry and left a bad taste on the tip of your tongue, crushed into Zemo’s side as he played the part of your darling false-husband; he played it well, and you tried to do your best, trying to push down the feelings that you wished the relationship was real as you wrapped an arm around his waist and smiled politely and nodded along. He was better off doing the talking, you were sure that you would have called someone a cunt within seconds if you so much as thought about opening your mouth. It was going well, though, or at least that’s what you guessed from Sam’s texts, encouragement and praise through the phone every time you checked it; but as Zemo was talking to some hot-shot lawyer you thought you recognised, eerily familiar red glasses and a soft laugh you could have sworn you had heard before but couldn’t place it, you caught the man you were looking for.

“Excuse me,” you pressed your glass into Zemo’s hand as you cleared your throat, slipping out of his grasp and feeling somewhat… empty at the sensation, like something was missing the second you let him ago. You were quick to cross the room.

You followed the man outside, and when you saw there was no one around, you grinned, and ran over, wrapping your arms around his waist tightly as you crashed into his chest.

“Frank, you fucking bastard!”

A grumbling laugh left Frank’s mouth as he dared to smile, his hand between your shoulder blades as he shook his head. “This place is a bit upper class for you, isn’t it?”

You slapped his shoulder gently as you shook your head, letting out a scoff. “And it’s not a bit upper class for you?”

“What are you doing here, (y/n)?” He asked, his voice dropping low as he pulled you a little closer, practically growling in your ear.

You shrugged, gesturing to him. “I teamed up with Captain America… he said I could join his team while I looked for you.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Frank shook his head, pushing you away slightly as he dared to reach into his pocket, handing you the packet of cigarettes you had left in his coat pocket the last time you were together. “If the law finds out you help me-”

“Frank, you’re my best friend,” you insisted. “If you go down, I’m going there with you.”

He frowned, running a hand through his hair. “Have you seen a lawyer around? Red glasses, carries a cane - probably flirting with everyone and pissing them off.”

“Yeah,” you turned around, but through the large windows, you couldn’t see Zemo stood with the lawyer, which made you frown as you furrowed your brows. “He, uh, he’s over there, he was with…”

“With wh-”

“Baron Helmut Zemo,” the voice made you turn around again, a surprised look coming to your face as your gaze met Zemo’s, but something was off, he looked… he looked like he was angry. He extended his hand Frank’s way. “(y/n)’s husband.”

Frank raised his brows as he looked between you and Zemo, a smile coming to his face. “Really? And when did this happen?”

“Uh-”

“A couple of days ago,” Zemo growled, staring Frank down. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. “And who, might I ask, are you?”

Frank licked his lips, shaking his head as he took in a harsh breath. “I’m the guy you don’t wanna fuck with.”

“Frank,” you grumbled, shaking your head. “Play nice.”

“Me? Play nice?” He scoffed. “What about your so-called husband? He gotta play nice, too?”

You rolled your eyes as you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Frank. Please.”

“I gotta see a lawyer,” Frank replied, “you let me know when you’re alone, and we’ll… we’ll talk.”

As he brushed past you, you felt him slip something into your pocket, making you want to call out to him, but before you could even think about it, Zemo cleared his throat, looking at you with that animosity again.

“Who was that?”

“That was my best friend,” you explained, “that was Frank Castle.”

“He was getting a bit too close for just a friend,” Zemo growled.

You furrowed your brows, tilting your head to the side as you looked at him. “What do you care?”

Gently, he let go of you, bringing a hand up to cup your jaw gently as he let out a quiet sigh. “Because I… I don’t want you to leave.”

You smiled, biting at the inside of your lip as you looked him up and down. Finally, that look on his face made a lot more sense than you first thought. “You’re jealous.”

“Well-”

“You’re fucking jealous,” you laughed, the sound musical as it left you. “You’re fucking jealous - of Frank?”

“Quiet,” he almost demanded, but you kept laughing. Thinking quickly, Zemo closed the distance, kissing you harshly, both hands now on your face as he kept you close, not expecting you to kiss him back, a wave of even more shock rolling over him when you buried one hand in his hair, waiting for him to drop his grip down to your sides so that you could grab the collar of his shirt.

Clumsily, he backed you up against the nearest wall, hidden in the darkness as he pinned you against it, his hands either side of your head, pressed against the cold stones as he continued to kiss you roughly, harshly, drawing a soft moan from your lips; it was enough to make you moan, enough to make you roll your hips, your open mouth giving him a split second chance for him to slip his tongue between your lips and claim you for his own. You brought your thigh up to his hip, gasping softly when he roughly grasped your flesh, keeping you pinned there between the wall and his body as he finally pulled away, nipping at your bottom lip.

“Are you still jealous of Frank?”

“I thought I told you to be quiet,” he hissed, and when you licked your hips, he had to stifle the urge to kiss you again.

“Oh, I don’t give a fuck about what you tell me to do,” you teased, bringing your hand down to his belt and tugging at it. “You should know that by now - I don’t take orders.”

Zemo shook his head, dropping your leg from his grip as he laid his hand on your throat. “Do you want me to squeeze it?”

“I’d be upset if you didn’t,” you chuckled, a grin coming to your lips when he applied a little pressure. “Kiss me while you choke me, won’t you?”

He let out a soft moan beneath his breath, applying a little more pressure as he dared to lean in again; he was rougher this time, your moans coming from the back of your throat quicker. This time, though, it was all open mouths and tongue and teeth as you brought both legs up and around his waist, one hand on his shoulder, the other tangled in his hair as he kept one hand on your throat, the other going to your ass and squeezing gently. He pulled back, removing his hand from your throat so that he could grab your thigh instead, burying his face against your neck for a few seconds, just to catch his breath, before he bit down on your most sensitive spot, sucking on the flesh as you softly moaned his name and bucked your hips against him; he did it again, marking your skin as if he was claiming you for himself. He knew what he was doing, getting you going, and you did resent him a little for it.

“Zemo, you know if we fuck here, we could get caught,” you grumbled, tilting your head back against the cool stones to give him better access to your throat. “You realise that, right?”

Zemo knew, he just wanted to tease you until he could get you back to his flat, back to somewhere private where interruptions could not happen; he pulled away, letting you go but keeping you trapped between the wall and his body, his hands splayed out either side of your head as he licked his lips and smile. “I want you to come home with me.”

You shook your head as you dared to sigh. “I can’t. Not tonight. I have to speak to Frank.”

“Please,” he took your hand from his shoulder, lacing his fingers with yours as he frowned and shook his head. “(y/n).”

“Zemo, as much as I’d like you to fuck me, I have to speak to Frank,” you told him gently. “Frank’s my best friend, and you… as much as it pains me to say, you’re just my temporary teammate who I might fuck.”

“I don’t want us to be that,” he muttered, letting go of your hand and taking a step back. “Seeing you with him… it made me… it made me realise I don’t want to be just teammates.”

You dared to smile, gently pulling him closer so that you could press a kiss to his cheek. “I want that, too, but I spent so long looking for Frank that I-”

“Then speak to him,” Zemo said quietly. “Speak to him, and then come get me.”

You were about to wander off to go and find Frank when he caught your wrist gently, pulling you flush with his chest as he smiled and pressed a kiss to the side of your mouth. “What?”

“Make sure you tell him who you belong to,” he whispered, “and that lawyer he kept speaking about.”

“I have a better idea,” you mused, humming softly. “Why don’t you come with me to speak to them? Then they’ll definitely know. Everyone inside will, too. Especially if you kiss me like you did just then.”

He laughed softly as he nodded, his arm finding its way around your waist as he let you lead him back inside; the way you leaned into him and kept your arm around him and how you stole a look at him every now and then, he had no doubt that he would almost certainly kiss you the same way.

“If you do manage to find Frank,” he whispered in your ear, “will you come home with me?”

“I can guarantee you that I will,” you muttered back. “Who knows? I might even stay.”

Zemo could hardly contain his smile as he cleared his throat and pulled you a little closer. “Even if you go back to working with him?”

“Even then,” you nodded.

Daring to steal a quick kiss, Zemo made sure to keep you close as a single word came from him quietly, almost like a prayer, “mine.”

“All yours, Baron,” you said softly. “All yours and no one else’s.”

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mlmxreader · 2 years

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Mornings | Helmut Zemo x gn!reader

@befreebehappya012 asked: Hey Jack! Could I please request "Well, now, that's a sight I could get used to" with Zemo? 💜

summary: Zemo's been staying with you for a while, and although closeness isn't exactly new, one little choice of attire causes everything to change.

tws: smoking, swearing

Zemo was staying with you for a little while, as the adopted sibling of Matt Murdock it was quite well known that you were relatively well protected and that it was a safe place to stay, and as he needed somewhere to lie low... well, it kind of worked out better than first thought. A bit too well, actually. The routine you both fell into came more than naturally, and it wasn't exactly a shock when he ended up sleeping in your bed with you at night; it was never questioned, never once. The same as you didn't think anything of it when Zemo sat with his back against the bathroom door while you showered; you didn't bat an eye, letting him into your personal space constantly. You liked his company too much to ever think twice about it. The evenings spent sitting around smoking cigarettes and listening to old school rock and roll. The mornings spent lounging on the sofa together. The nights spent cuddled into his side while he gently ran his hand up and down your bicep until he drifted off.

Zemo was always up first, always the first to get up and to get out of bed, he would spend a couple of minutes looking at you, bathed in the light of dawn, sleeping soundly, and he would smile a little before he got on with the day; he was always careful to be quiet while he got washed and dressed, even more quiet when he made two cups of coffee. He knew how you liked it by heart, now. He would start breakfast and put on some Sabaton for when you got up; it wasn't his type of music at all, but he knew you liked it, so while he rolled a cigarette, he would choose which song would be best. Usually, The Red Baron put you in a great mood, but so did The Last Stand and Coat of Arms; today, he put on something entirely different, though. He knew you liked All American Nightmare by Hinder, so he put that on instead, and by the time he was putting your cigarette next to the mug of coffee along with the lighter, he could hear you finally get up.

You never took half as long as he did in the bathroom, always insistent that you wouldn't get dressed unless if you were going anywhere, so it wasn't long until you were trudging into the kitchen while he was starting to get breakfast; you started to nod your head a little as you grabbed the coffee and took a long swig. Zemo didn't get the chance to look at you just yet, focused on making sure that everything was timed right so that breakfast would be done all at the same time, but as soon as he was able to, he turned to look at you, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

You looked like a fucking masterpiece by the likes of Van Gogh; cigarette hanging out of your mouth, cup of coffee in one hand, your phone in the other. You had on a pair of boxers and that was it.

Zemo swallowed thickly, shaking his head and turning back to the cooking. But then he stole another look at you, and he couldn't help but to comment on your appearance. "Well, now, that's a sight I could get used to."

You looked up at him and raised a brow. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

He was happy to do so, pulling his phone out from his back pocket and taking a quick picture. He admired it for a second. "Can I post this one?"

You shrugged, daring to laugh a little as you flicked ash into the sink and let out a little yawn. You put your phone down on the counter and looked at him with a hum. "Only if I can do the same."

Zemo was happy to give his consent for that, waiting for you to take a picture of him and to pull your social media up; he couldn't help but to smile when his phone buzzed and he looked at the post. The caption, though, was what caught his eye more than anything; right beneath the picture, clear as day and obviously not a mistake, it read: "mornings with the best one 💜💜 couldn't love him more"

He looked at you, flinching a little when the song ended and Fuck Away the Pain by Divide The Day started to play, but he slowly approached, putting his hands on the counter either side of you and trying not to grin when you grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged him a little closer. "What does that caption mean, exactly, (y/n)?"

"I think you know what it means," you whispered, looking down at his lips. Something you had done a thousand times, a kiss when you left to go anywhere, a kiss when you came back, suddenly meant an entirely different thing. "Don't you?"

"Is this your way of saying you want to be mine?"

"Perhaps," you mused, licking your lips and biting down on the inside of your bottom one. "Why? Do you want me to be?"

"I thought you'd never ask," he dared to laugh a little, pressing into you a little further. "You do realise this will have to wait until after breakfast, don't you?"

"Wait," you tugged his shirt again, your eyes so fucking pleading that he couldn't say no, even if it meant everything burning. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes," he growled. "Now, be good, and wait."

"Fine," you huffed, daring to smile at him as you let his shirt go. "Have it your way."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it.

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mlmxreader · 2 years

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To Behave Or Not To Behave | Helmut Zemo x gn!reader

@befreebehappya012 asked: Heey Jack!! Could I request "You're here with me, behave yourself" from your prompt list with Zemo please? Thank yoouu!!

summary: you and Zemo are tasked with something so simple and so easy that it can't go wrong - but it's not exactly in your interests to behave, if you're honest.

tws: swearing, smoking, choking, hair pulling

Gold seemed to fill the room so effortlessly, even with the large chandelier that hung from the ceiling; it made you think of an episode of an old television show you used to watch when you were a child. Two brothers had been tasked with cleaning some chandeliers and Granddad had unscrewed the wrong one, resulting in it plummeting to the floor and smashing. The thought made you bite your lip as you tried not to laugh and grin; furrowing his brows when he heard the quiet snort of a half escaped laugh, Zemo pulled you a little closer against his side as he dared to mumble in your ear.

"What are you laughing at?"

You couldn't resist it, clearing your throat and keeping your voice quiet as you pointed to the chandelier. "Brace yourself, Rodney, brace yourself."

"Who's Rodney?" He asked, confused and vexed, but when you only laughed, he smiled and shrugged it off. He guessed it was something of nothing.

Besides, it wasn't like this was particularly important, all you and Zemo had to do was make an appearance and look pretty doing it while Sam and Bucky snuck around to gather information; all you had to do was walk around, chat up some rich cunts, go for a smoke, have a drink and then go back to the hotel room. It was a piece of piss.

But then Zemo just had to stop to talk to some aristocrat about something, and although you tried to seem like you were somewhat interested, you ended up sneaking away; weaving through the sea of suits and ball gowns, you wound up sat out in the large garden. Parker on a concrete bench as you dared to smoke a cigarette, a habit you had promised Zemo you wouldn't indulge in too much; but a familiar shadow soon came to block the outdoor lights, and when you looked up, you met a pair of all too familiar dark brown eyes, and you smiled.

"You caught me."

"I did," Zemo nodded, sitting down beside you and holding out his hand, humming softly when you passed him a cigarette and a lighter. "I take it you're bored, puppy?"

You nodded, daring to laugh quietly as you flicked ash onto the precious and perfect patio. "Who would have guessed? You brought the fucking Punisher's sidekick to an event filled with cunts."

He raised a brow, taking a long drag and licking his lips. "My apologies. We won't be here long, though."

You leaned into him a little, your free hand on his thigh as you dared to smile a little. "I don't mind it so much... just bores the fuck out of me hearing rich cunts chat shit for ages. Like, we get it! You had a fucking private education! Good for you, you Tory cunt."

Zemo laughed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes before he dared to lean against you a little. "I had a private education."

"You're different," you scoffed. "You're not a Tory cunt."

"Point taken," he mused. "Is there any other way I'm different?"

"Well, a few come to mind, yeah," you dared to steal a look at him as you took a drag from your cigarette and cleared your throat. "I could name 'em, but I don't think you'd want them rich cunts to hear about what we do behind closed doors."

"Not particularly," he admitted. "You're here with me, behave yourself, won't you?"

"Me? Behave?" You tutted, shaking your head. "Zemo, I never thought I'd hear the day you chatted such fucking horse shit!"

That filthy mouth was the thing he was worried most about, not the boredom or the disapproval at being surrounded by a bunch of rich cunts, it was going to be your filthy mouth that blew it all; the words that left it could blow the whole operation. Still, he supposed it would have been more than entertaining to watch you get into an argument with one of those cunts. The thought made him smile as he finished his cigarette and chucked it aside.

"Perhaps I ought to shut you up," he purred, waiting for you to sit upright and throw your cigarette away before his gaze dropped to your lips as he raised a brow, a smile on his lips.

You grinned back, licking your lips and tilting your head to the head. "And how do you think you'll do that?"

"The only way I know how," he hummed, one hand going to your throat and the other on your jaw as he pulled you in, his kiss so harsh and so rough that you couldn't help but to let out a quiet moan as you kissed him back.

You moved to get on his lap, drawing a surprised but pleased chuckle from him as he eagerly pulled you closer, squeezing your throat a little as you buried one hand in his hair, tugging at the brown strands; but then he broke the kiss, his lips a little swollen and his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, a harsh blush on his features.

"Will you behave, now?"

"I suppose," you huffed, licking your lips to savour the way his tasted. "Kiss me like that again, and I'll promise you I will."

"Now that," Zemo dared to give your throat a playful squeeze. "I can do, Mein Stern."

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mlmxreader · 2 years

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A Temper To Rival The Devil's | Helmut Zemo x m!reader

Anonymous asked: “Hang on, I think my boyfriend’s about to kill someone” for Zemo x male reader?

Reader struggles to manage his anger sometimes even though he tries his best and loses his cool during a mission with Zemo, Sam and Bucket Barney. Zemo kind of just pulls the reader away by his collar or something (not literally, unless you wanna) to avoid a murder.

summary: everything seems to be going fine, even if Sam and Bucky are a little apprehensive about you joining the mission due to your temper, everything seems to be going fine - until you overhear something that really makes you snap.

tws: swearing, collars

Sam and Bucky were never quite keen on bringing you along for missions, but Zemo would beg and plead, telling them that he would keep your temper under control this time, although they never really believed him; you had a vile temper, one that could easily rival the devil that they said resided in Matt Murdock, and you could be quite the liability when it came to using anything except brute strength. They were concerned, worried, and mostly because your temper not only put them at risk, but it also put you at risk; just because you were Zemo's boyfriend, they didn't see why he had to drag you into the middle of fights like some sort of attack dog.

Yet, here you were, looking rather dashing in Zemo's opinion; in your own, you thought you looked like an absolute cunt. A finely tailored pastel suit made up of an off-white shirt, a purple blazer, cream shoes and blue trousers. You looked like a cunt, save the silver chain collar around your neck; but you pulled at the collar of the shirt, grumbling and groaning and complaining about it. Sam and Bucky had said that it wouldn't take long, while you and Zemo were to mingle with the crowd and find out what you could, they would sneak around and they would try and find phsyical evidence - paper documents, files on computers, anything that they could grab, really.

At least Zemo had let you keep your headphones, they kept you from getting into arguments with the crowd, and even though he could clearly hear 'D I V I D E D' by Caliban when he stood next to you, he brushed it off with ease; they seemed to keep that temper of yours at bay. Zemo knew that they would, but then you spotted someone that made your fucking blood boil; an absolute cunt who you would have just loved to get your hands on. The type that Frank Castle often went after, and when you slipped your headphones off, you caught wind of what they were saying; some fucking bigoted bullshit that made you snap. However, just as you were about to head over, Zemo grabbed the collar, fine chain links warm at the back of your neck were soon replaced by the feeling of his knuckles as he pulled you close and shook his head.

"Please don't."

"Do you fucking hear what that bastard is saying?" You snarled, tugging at the collar to try and get out of his grip. "Fucking let me have this one! Fucking lemme at 'em."

Zemo sighed, but there was a crackle over the earpieces, and Sam's voice rang out.

"What the Hell is going on down there?"

"(y/n) spotted a Tory," Zemo replied softly, tugging at your collar when you made a move to break free. "He's not happy about it."

"Well, tell him to leave it for just one night," Sam replied, "we've got a lot riding on this and-"

"Hang on, I think my boyfriend's about to kill someone."

Another firm tug to the collar and your back was against Zemo's chest as he nipped at the end of your ear and grumbled quietly, "behave. You can have them later, Prinz."

"I don't want that cunt later," you growled. "I want that cunt fucking now."

Zemo sighed, his hand letting go of the collar as he brought it round to your throat, only then did he grasp the metal once more; he took charge, pulling you outside into the luxurious gardens, and he pinned you against the nearest wall, still holding tightly onto the collar as he glared at you. He grabbed your headphones, folding them up and stuffing them into the inside pocket of his fine dark red blazer.

"Stand down."

"Make me," you hissed, your gaze dropping to his lips.

He chuckled softly before he dared to give you what you wanted; shutting you up and distracting you at the same time as he crashed his lips against yours. Harsh and quick, he wasn't shy about using the collar to choke you a little bit, just enough to make you moan so that he could slip his tongue between your lips and deepen the kiss; he used his free hand to grasp your wrists, pinning them above your head and against the cool bricks as he let you melt against him. Only Zemo could make you so weak so easily.

He pulled away, his voice quiet against your lips. "There's armed guards here. If you want to get shot, then by all means, go after the Tory bastard."

You clenched your jaw, swallowing thickly. "I'm willing to take that chance."

"I'm not," his grip on the collar tightened. "Behave yourself, (y/n)... or I'll have to keep my hand on your collar all night."

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mlmxreader · 2 years

Text

Void | Helmut Zemo x m!reader

Anonymous asked: Can I request some Zemo angst? Male reader has been in love with him for ages, knowing (or assuming) Zemo is straight and could never be interested in him. Reader tries to drown those thoughts out or get over him by drinking too much or isolating himself etc. and Zemo gets worried when it’s too much and tries to talk to him.

(Also can I be 🌵 anon?)

summary: being in love with a straight man is a fucking pain in the ass, and although moderation is key, that doesn't fucking matter anymore.

tws: drinking, swearing, drugs

A drink every now and then did no harm, neither did a few grams of weed, but when you didn't give a single fuck about moderation anymore, everything sorted of became a blur; you would wake up in fields miles away from home and you would splatter vomit all over the pavement, painting it. Moderation wasn't something that you could say you were fond of anymore. You knew that the man you were so stupidly in love with was straight, you knew that he was fucking straight and there was no way he would ever look at you the same way; you didn't give a fuck anymore, or at least that's what you told yourself.

Cans and bottles carpeted the floor of your flat, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care anymore; ashtrays so filled with finished blunts that they were damn near overflowing. Your phone was constantly going off; texts and calls from people who genuinely cares about you. Marc. Frank. Matt. Luke. Logan. You brushed them off every time; you didn't want to see anyone anymore. The white ceiling fan was so coated in dust and smoke that it was a dark grey now; the curtains had not been opened in weeks. All you wanted to do was to forget and to move on; all you wanted to do was to erase Zemo from your mind. Was that so fucking much to ask?

On days you didn't drink and smoke, you would just lay around in bed all day and wish that it would all fucking end; you wanted him gone from your life, but no matter where you looked in your flat, there were reminders. His fur coat that he had let you borrow when it was fucking freezing and you had forgotten your own. A bottle of whisky he had given you, the only thing you couldn't bring yourself to drink. A picture of you and him when he had taken you to a concert to see fucking System Of A Down. A picture of you both sound asleep - courtesy of Marc - and cuddled up together on your bed when you had thrown a party. Zemo was fucking everywhere and you wished that you had never met him; for fuck's sake, even Peter had managed to get himself out of his slump after his divorce. Why the fuck was it so hard for you to get over a stupid crush?

Still, days were turning into one big blur, and things weren't exactly getting better; all the Sabaton songs and all the fucking Lorna Shore songs didn't seem to help, either. Nor Caliban. Rammstein. Cannibal Corpse. Nothing could pull you out of it, and you were certain that this was how you were going to spend the rest of your days; but then, on a warm September night, your door was unlocked, and a groan echoed through the thin walls despite 'Void' by Lorna Shore playing loudly. You listened to the lyrics more than you did whoever the unwanted guest was; you supposed it was Marc or Wade, given that they had spare keys.

Will there be flies that make homes within my eyes, will my soul split like an atom and wander the skies, or fall to the earth with no one's surprise? The body subsides, am I damned to wander the earth? No soul to subside I seek rest in the dirt, how can I still feel this emotion? Why can I see beyond the grave? How can I still feel this emotion? A life long lost with nothing left to save, a series of needles dive within the skin, to seal shut the incision the coroner has made within, I can't quite comprehend my eyes, floating above my body the misery will never subside

"I know they said you were in a state, but this is certainly worse than what I'd expected," the voice you dreaded to hear rang out as Zemo pushed aside empty bottles to get to the bedroom. He leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded. "You haven't spoken to anyone in weeks."

You huffed, moving to the far side of the bed just so you didn't have to look at him, to see those big brown eyes that you could get lost in and that fucking smile that made you so goddamn weak that you hated yourself for it. "Fuck off."

The bed dipped as Zemo sat at the edge, looking at the wall as he kept his back to you, his hands clasped between his knees as he sighed. "Was it something I've done?"

"Fuck off."

"I'm worried about you," he started, "everyone I've spoken to says they haven't seen you or heard from you. I thought... I thought maybe you were ignoring me but... it seems it's not. Logan said you were upset about something but you wouldn't tell him what. Frank said you blocked his number, Matt and Luke, too... Marc and Wade said they wanted you to at least tell them you're alive... what's going on?"

"I thought I told you to fuck off," you grumbled, getting up and grabbing a blunt that you kept on your bedside table. You sparked it up, the smell so fucking good that you couldn't help the sigh that left you, the taste of it on your tongue as you felt your muscles relax a little.

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on."

"Alright," you chuckled. "How's this? The man I was so fucking in love with for so long is straight. Sure, he's got those fucking big brown eyes, that fucking smile to die for, and sure, it was hot when he fucking grabbed my throat to put on a show for some cunt because he fucking choked me the way I like it but... he's fucking straight!"

Zemo stared at you for a moment, dumbfounded before he dared to get up, taking the blunt from you and stubbing it out in the nearest ashtray; he was so gentle as he put one hand on your throat like he had done last time, the other on your jaw as he pulled you in. He couldn't think of how to say it, how to tell you, but he felt the same and the only thing he could think of in that moment was to kiss you so fucking gently whilst choking you the same way he did before, daring to smile when you kissed him back, one hand on his cheek, the other buried in his hair. Zemo couldn't think of the right words to explain it, but he had been a mess without you; he wanted you to be his boyfriend, he craved your company, and he needed you there. He had been worried to fuck about you, and finding you in such filth and such a mess was something he never wanted to see again.

You pulled away, daring to laugh softly as you shook your head. "Get lost, Zemo, I don't want your pity."

"Does this look like pity?" He whispered, daring to kiss you again. "Let me help you clean up. Please."

You frowned, grabbing the bottle of whisky he had given you and pressing it into his hands as you sighed and ran a hand down your face. "Take it back. I can't look at it anymore."

"No," he put it back and sighed heavily as he tried to think of the right words to say, swallowing thickly as he groaned softly. "I care a lot about you, (y/n), and I know you think I'm straight but... I'm not. And if there's anyone I want right now, it's you - it's been you for a while... just let me help you clean up and then we can talk properly, please?"

"Fine," you caved. "But you owe me a ten."

"I can get you a thirty," he whispered. "But please... let me help?"

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