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youvebeenlivingfictional · 10 months

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Year Two

Part Three of Three Years

Year One | Masterlist | Year Three

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only.

Length: 7.2K

Notes: ….Hi! It’s part three! Huzzah!

Warnings: Cursing; angst; enemies to enemies who fuck; tech-talk; angst (I know I said it before but really); Nathan being Nathan; slapping; grinding; biting; the next chapter has more spice

Summary: Despite how irritating he can be, you’re finding that you mind Nathan less and less these days. He’s more like a common fungi: opportunistic, probably not harmful if consumed—not that you’re rushing to consume him, as it were.

Jenn is.

“We’ve gotta jump, we’ll be late on another call.”

It’s a warning that’s almost never been heeded before, but you say it as firmly as you can. You can feel your team casting a wary glance between you and the landline that you’re crowded around in the otherwise sparsely decorated conference room.

The old conference rooms at Sc(ai)le’s original headquarters could be a little tight for team conference calls, but at least they were comfy. The tables weren’t too big, but could fit most everyone’s laptops, and a drink or two. There had been armchairs, couches—enough space for people to chat, take calls, have a quick huddle—whatever was needed. By contrast, the conference rooms at the new headquarters feel like blank, sterile canvases. They have yet to be outfitted properly. For now, you’re all stuck with the chairs from your desks that you’ve rolled in, sitting around a long, bland, white conference table, with a landline in the middle.

“Move whatever you’re going to back,” Bateman’s order is haughty. “We haven’t finished ironing this out. I still have questions.”

A year and a half ago, you would’ve heeded him. A year and a half ago, you would’ve been afraid to push back, wary of Nathan’s burgeoning relationship with Jenn, and with Sc(ai)le. But now, a year and a half in, you’re far more aware of what you are and aren’t willing to put up with. It’s a gamble, a stupid one, but you roll the fucking dice:

“I hear you, and I’ll be more than happy to answer them. Pop them in an email and send them over at your earliest convenience. Thanks so much for your time, Nathan.”

You can only hope that your using his name softens the blow of how abruptly you hang up on him. You glance down at your computer repeatedly, eyeing the number for the other meeting that you’re dialing into the landline as you punch it in. You glance around, finding your team slack-jawed and stunned.

“I cannot believe you just did that.”

It falls out of Amelia’s open mouth with a shocked laugh. She’s one of the product owners, someone that you’ve been working with since before you brought onto the C-Suite—and has had a front-row ticket to the rapid decline of your giving a fuck. You shrug a shoulder.

“He’ll get it,” You insist. “He knows how these meetings run over. If it’s between cutting him off or being late for our biggest client, the fuck is he gonna do, tell us to lose money?”

A couple of your team members guffaw, and you glance up to see some of them trying to fight back smiles. It makes you grin.

“Alright, c’mon,” You urge, even as you chuckle, yourself. “Button that up, we gotta work.”

You wait for the slap on the wrist from Nathan. When it doesn’t come, you wait for it from Jenn. As your monthly one on one closes out, you expect the question: Why the fuck did you hang up on our biggest backer? Stunningly, it never comes. Maybe Nathan didn't mention it to her, even in passing. Maybe he recognizes that your judgement call was the right one.

The company is in a better place than it was last year. Sc(ai)le is drawing clients and revenue in hand over fucking fist. With the newest burst of AI chatbots coming out, there has been a wave of prospective clients. Companies that used to be too busy for you are now beating down your doors. For the first time, you have a chance to be selective about your clients. They’re chasing you and your tech, not the other way around. The company has swelled from 150 people to 400 in just under a year.

Most of your local workforce is coming into Sc(ai)le’s office at least three times a week. Some opt to come in more days than their contracts necessitate, not because they like it, but because it’s just faster to run over someone’s desk to ask a fucking question than to Slack them and pray that they’re somewhere near their laptop. You’re busy, busier than you’ve ever been. The amount of work that you’ve been hit with in the first six months of your second year is closer to what you’d initially expected when you’d agreed to take on two C-Suite positions.

Are you tired? Yes.

Do you remember what your apartment still looks like in the daylight? Not really.

Do you have personal relationships outside of work anymore? Definitely not.

But you’re staring down the barrel of a year and a half of work for stock options and a job wherever the fuck you want.

There are some moments, rare moments, when you almost want to thank Nathan for strong-arming you into this position. But there are other, far more frequent moments when you want to tell him to take his ego and his backing and cram it up his frighteningly round ass.

“Knock-knock.”

You don’t bother to look up; you know the voice well enough. It sets your teeth on edge. You keep typing, eyes on your computer as your fingers fly across the keyboard.

“You know, there is a door there,” You point out, “Most people actually bother to knock on it.”

“That’s standard procedure for a closed door. Yours is wide-open. Saying knock-knock was just a formality. I could’ve walked right in.”

“If you want, I can get up and shut the door, let you knock like a normal human being.”

“Nothing about me is normal, sweetheart.”

The endearment makes your fingers freeze over your keyboard. It’s not a surprise that he does it so damn easily—but what is surprising is how it seems to just knock your brain offline.

“Are you in my doorway for a reason?” You finally ask. It’s a moment too late; you can hear him lower into a seat across from you.

“What are you doing tonight?” He asks. You fight back a sigh.

“I’m assuming I’m having dinner with you.”

“You catch on quick.”

You let your eyes slide to him. “You’re more predictable than you’d like.”

Nathan’s expression flickers with annoyance, but he’s quick to cover it up again.

“That’s something I’ve never been accused of.”

“First time for everything. We going to the diner again?”

He huffs a humorless laugh through his nose, head jerking back with it before it tips forward again. You fight back a smile as you turn toward your computer again.

“Just be ready by seven,” He adds.

“Alright.”

“And don’t try to worm out of it,” Bateman warns as he pushes himself to stand and rounds toward the door. “I’ll pull my funding.”

“I’m shaking in my boots.”

You force yourself to keep typing, even as you hear Nathan’s step hesitate before it fades complete. It’s just a little, just for a second—but to sense that you’ve managed to put a hitch in Bateman’s day and workflow when he’s put such a hitch in your life? Hell, that feels like your birthday came early.

“Too bad Jenn couldn’t join us.”

You’re trying to goad him. From her reaction to your mention of having dinner with Bateman—the way she’d pouted just a little before brightening, telling you to have fun, and to charge it to the company card—you’re fairly certain that he hadn’t mentioned it to her at all. Bateman hardly blinks as he excuses:

“She had a conflict.”

That’s bullshit.

“Besides,” He pushes on before you can argue, “You and I haven’t had a one on one since you came onto the team.”

“There was that time at, uh…Karaoke,” You correct.

“Thanks for the reminder. What are we singing?”

You raise your brows, unimpressed. “Why don't we just pencil that in for my retirement party.”

“You already have that planned?”

“Oh, sure. I’m going to make you rent out that, uh—That palazzo, out in Beverly Hills? I want an ice sculpture, the most VIP of VIPs, a whose-who of the tech industry’s who’s.”

“You make a playlist yet?”

“No, but it’ll be done, don't you worry about that.”

Nathan searches your gaze for a moment, and you see a wrinkle of curious confusion there.

“What are the hang ups?” He asks.

“What do you mean?”

“You, in this position. You’re pushing the processes forward, you developed a uniform product release cadence and communications workflow. The efficiency is through the roof, but you’re still unsatisfied.”

You look away, lips pressing into a thin line. You let your gaze drift over the decor of the restaurant, rather than hold Nathan’s eye, and let him find a hundred little faults in you. The restaurant that he’s chosen is startlingly intimate—it has a short bar, with just two seats, and only a handful of tables and chairs. The recessed lighting has been dimmed for the evening, and if the table between you and Nathan had been just a little bit longer, you might’ve had to squint to get a better look at him. As it is, your knees are brushing under the table, and if you make one wrong move reaching for the drinks menu, you’re going to make even more contact with the guy than you’ve ever wanted.

“Is it the pay?" He presses into your silence. "Because frankly, you’re being paid more than you’re worth."

“Really? I’ve been offered more to do less.”

He bristles, and you bite back a smile. He doesn’t like that—and he doesn’t need to know that it’s a bluff. You’re sure he’ll make inquiries, now that you’ve said it, and you’re sure that every one of them will tell him the truth: that you’ve never been approached by any one of them. He won’t trust it. It’s just an added little bit of discord. Hell, you’re almost proud of it.

“What is it?” He presses.

“This wasn’t a choice for me,” You shale your head, “It was a negotiation tactic. Actually, you know what, let’s just call it what it really was: it was a fucking emotional blackmail.”

He rolls his eyes openly. “Emphasis on emotional.”

“Oh, fuck off,” You scoff, “As if you’d ever take this shit lying down.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly, so—”

“I wouldn’t have signed on in the first place.”

The fact makes you go quiet for a moment.

“Because you don’t have anyone like Jenn?”

“Because even if I had someone like Jenn, I’d leave them to sort out their own shit.”

“Well, I’ll just add that to the ever-growing list of differences between you and I.”

“It’s not that long.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re not so different, you and I.”

“Did you watch Austin Powers on the plane?”

“Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

“Isn’t that, uh…Our methods are not so different as you pretend?”

“I paraphrased. And do I really look like someone that watches Austin Powers in his free time?”

“No comment.”

“I think we’re more similar than you’d like to believe. I think that pisses you off.”

He’s right—and it pisses you off even more. You fight to keep from fidgeting in front of him, giving him the satisfaction of your open annoyance. You finally shake your head slowly, keeping your gaze on Nathan’s.

“I’m nothing like you. And I never wanna be.”

You wanna slap the widening smile off of his face.

“Wouldn’t take much,” He goads. “I’d say you’re already halfway there. Start missing a few dinners because you’re working, start keeping a change of clothes at the office, sleeping in one of the conference rooms because you realize it’s four in the morning and you won’t have time to get back to yours, shower, change, and not fall asleep on your couch while you wait for your leftovers to heat up in your microwave.”

You feel your face going hot. You don’t want to admit that you’ve already started doing every single one of those things—that you’ve done two of those things in the last forty-eight hours.

“You know where you go from there?” Nathan folds his arms on the table, leaning forward and holding your gaze with a smiling smugness. “You stop giving a fuck what other people think. Like it or not, that’s going to include Jenn. The only voice that starts to matter is yours.”

“I told you,” You press, “I’m nothing like you.”

“And if you realize that you are?”

“I’ll shave my head, start wearing polo shirts, and move to the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“The commute would be a nightmare.”

“You might look cute bald.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two of you fall quiet as the server sets your drinks down. You gaze at yours, wondering if you can drain it and run, feign illness, or snipe that you have to join Jenn at her meeting. Maybe you can tell Nathan that you just don’t want to be there—but maybe that’s exactly what he would do. So you obligingly knock your glass against his, take a measured sip, and resolve yourself to sit through this.

“Alright,” Nathan finally relents as he sets his glass down, “We’ll move off of work. Talk about something else.”

“Like what.”

“You ever think about starting your own company?”

Your brows raise.

“This is how you talk about something other than work?”

“You hate having a boss.”

“You really like to talk in absolutes, don’t you,” You comment dryly. “I don’t mind having a boss.”

“You never just wanted to break off, strike out on your own?”

You consider bullshitting him, but this drink is still pretty damn full, and if you have it too fast, you’re almost certain he’ll insist on your having another. So you consider for a moment, then shrug.

“I guess I did, once. When we’d just gotten out of here. Jenn was working on getting Sc(ai)le going.”

“So, what happened?”

“Nothing ‘happened’. One of us had to keep things afloat until she had her foot in the door.”

“You resent her for it?”

“Of course not.”

“I would.”

“Well, I already told you. We’re not the same.”

“What was it?”

“The idea?”

“Mhm.”

“A consulting firm, crisis-response specific.”

“You could do it, you know. Once your contract is done—as long as you can resist the urge to stay.”

“I’m not going to stay.”

“Not even if Jenn asks you to? I know how much she values your opinion. Almost as highly as she values mine.”

You used to think that Jenn valued your opinion twice as much as Nathan’s, but these days, you’re dismayed to say that you’re not so sure about that.

“She won’t ask me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“If I tell her I’m happy to serve my three years and move on, she’ll be fine with it.”

“And if she isn’t?”

“She’ll learn to be fine with it.”

“You wouldn’t take her wishes into consideration?”

“The last time I did, I wound up working for you.”

“So the only voice that matters on this subject is yours.”

He’s smiling like the cat that got the goddamn cream. You fight off a groan of irritation. You hadn’t been expecting it—why the hell weren’t you expecting it? You’re mad that he caught you out like that.

Worse, you sort of admire it.

Nathan’s little visits begin increasing in frequency. You don’t question it. Maybe it’s BlueBook business; maybe it’s Sc(ai)le; maybe he’s looking into investing with another company and he just happens to be in town more these days. Whatever the fuck it is, you don’t care. You just care that Nathan is now sitting in on your meetings with various departments, with the C-Suite, with you and Jenn. It’s like you can’t swing your laptop without whacking the guy these days.

But despite how irritating he can be, you’re finding that you mind Nathan less and less these days. He’s more like a common fungi: opportunistic, probably not harmful if consumed—not that you’re rushing to consume him, as it were.

Jenn is.

Jenn is soaking up this time with Nathan like a goddamn sponge. You haven’t seen her this bright, this engaged in some kind of personal relationship in a long time, since way before Sc(ai)le.

Look, maybe you’re being a little judgemental, you’re almost certain that Jenn has a crush on Nathan. And that is…A little alarming. For one, it means putting even more of her time and interest into the guy. Beyond that, it means that she may be pinning her romantic hopes on the guy who the company’s financial hopes are resting on. Sure, Sc(ai)le is getting bigger, doing better, but the cash flow into the company is still coming from Bateman.

You think of that as you see Jenn throw her head back in a giggle, her hand landing on Bateman’s forearm. He grins, glancing toward you. If you knew less, you’d think he was trying to get you to laugh, too. But it’s Nathan, and you know better. He’s showing off. He’s showing off how likable he is to your best friend. He’s showing off the fact that he’s making her laugh, not you. He’s showing you that your place in your best friend’s life is being usurped.

Asshat.

You look down at your food as Jenn’s laughter quiets to giggles, then tapers entirely. You can feel both of them watching you, and you make a point of poking through your food, just to have something to do. You hadn’t even planned on joining the two of them for dinner, but they’d happened to catch you on your way to the parking lot and insisted.

Grabbing a meal with Jenn is fine. You can sort of tolerate grabbing a meal with Nathan. But the two of them, together? Cripes, you don’t think you can take much more of this. You can only hope this place doesn’t have a damn dessert menu. Jenn can’t resist a piece of cheesecake, and you’re dying to get the hell out of here. You’re not sure you can take much more of her simping and grinning over a man that you find moderately repugnant, and mildly attractive.

You frown, putting your fork down in favor of taking up your wine and drawing in a deep sip.

Mildly attrac—Where the fuck did that come from? Whatever it was, it’s left a bad taste in your mouth.

“You alright over there?” Nathan asks.

“Great,” You answer flatly once you’ve swallowed, “Thanks.”

“Food not to your liking? We’ll get you something else.”

You shake your head, gaze flickering to Nathan’s. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

“We’ll go somewhere else.”

“That is even less necessary than getting me something else to eat.”

“So!” Jenn chirps, breaking into your and Bateman’s bickering, “We should go somewhere after this, right?”

“You know what, I actually can’t,” You give what you hope is a regretful smile, “I’ve got a call.”

“This late?” Nathan looks down at his watch, “Who with?”

“Brickandbound, the SaaS company down in Sydney. It’s only about two in the afternoon over there. And, actually,” You push your chair back, “I did not realize how late it is. I should get back to my office, prep with the team. Thanks for dinner, Nathan.” You glance toward Jenn, warming at the grateful smile on her lips.

“I’ll see you later, Jenn. Bateman, let me know how much to Venmo you.” You offer him a pat on the shoulder, then round him, dropping a kiss to Jenn’s head before heading out. You don’t bother to give them a second look, you just go.

Mildly attractive. Mildly attractive? When the fuck did that happen?

Maybe it’s because you’ve been around him so much, and because, well…He is. He’s still an irritating little worm, of course, the most annoying person on the fucking planet (after Elon), but he’s sort of…Hot. His eyes are dark, and when he’s worked up, his gaze can be intense. His lips seem far more pink and plump these days, but that could be the increasing growth of his beard, which he only seems to trim every week or so. And his smile, which you seem to be privy to more and more these days, can be kinda nice—when it’s not smug, or slick, which is fairly rare. Still, you’re certain you’ve gotten a true smile from him a couple of times. They’re in the minority, and maybe that’s why they seem so much more special when you do get them.

You lean back in your seat in the conference room, listening to the sales and acquisitions team as they prep around you, volleying pitch lines back and forth, tweaking wording. You can only hope that Jenn’s getting those smiles from him—legitimate smiles, the kinds that’ll turn her insides to goo. She better fucking thank you for your hasty retreat later.

You glance over as you hear the team beginning to dial in. You draw in a deep breath, pushing it out quietly through your lips. You’ve been on tons of these, but they still make you a little nervous. You sort of hate it. If you’re still nervous, it means that a small part of you still gives so much of a shit that you’re afraid to make a mistake. You glance around as you hear everyone introduce themselves on the call, and open your mouth to add your name, but freeze as you see the door open.

He shouldn’t be there. He should be in some dim bar with Jenn. She should be batting her fucking eyelashes, playing with the hair that she just got done today because Bateman had emailed to let the two of you know that he would be in town—

“Hey, you’ve got Bateman on the line.” He’s waving the person in the seat next to you over one before he sits down, turning your laptop toward him to get a good look at the deck, your notes. You watch, lips parted, absolutely gobsmacked. There’s just a pause before you manage to give your name on the call, to fill in the blank—and then sales and acquisitions push on.

You hardly speak on the call. You don’t have to. The team has it handled. Luckily for you, Nathan keeps his damn mouth shut, too, save to lean over and murmur the odd question in your ear. The brush of his warm breath against your ear makes your stomach flip. You’re horrified at the feeling—at the fact that the man is there with you, and not out somewhere with Jenn; at the fact that you’re feeling something other than utter disdain for Nathan.

Is it petty jealousy? The idea that Jenn’s interest is becoming your interest? Like a little girl, jealous of the toy that her friend is playing with? Or is your disdain curdling in the oddest of ways? And what’s his fucking excuse? Is he chasing you down to piss you off? Is he chasing you down because he knows he’s pissing you off? Or did he clock the heat that you’d eyed him with over dinner, and is he after answers?

You can’t imagine Nathan chasing anyone for anything but answers.

You practically run out of the room once the meeting is up after thanking everyone. You nearly snap your laptop shut on Nathan’s questing fingers as you push yourself up, dropping your laptop into your bag, and going. You make it down the hall and around one corner before you feel fingers close around your wrist, his fingers tugging you to slow, “Hey, where the fuck’s the fire—”

You whirl around, yanking your wrist away from him.

“What the fuck, Nathan!”

His surprise splits to smugness.

“Is something wrong?”

“You know something is,” You spit. “What the hell is wrong with you? What are you doing here?”

“I was told there was a meeting.”

“You didn’t need to be here for it. You should be out.”

“Out? Doing what?”

“Out doing anything but pissing me the fuck off.” You whirl away from him, striding down the hall, and foolishly hoping that he’ll let it go. He follows you, and you hope that he’ll stop at the elevator, but he keeps right up with you. You nearly manage to slam your door in his face, but he just pushes it open, chiming, “Knock knock.”

“Please leave.”

“Why are you so pissed off?”

“Why are you here?”

“In the building? In this business?”

“In my office, why are you here right now?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“Well, my purpose is manifold.”

“Oh, for fuckssake.”

“But I’m mostly here to piss you off.”

“Well, mission accomplished, asshat.”

You drop your things on your desk, then glance up, doing a double-take at the sight of Nathan. He has his hands braced on the back of a chair, a wide grin pulling his lips.

“Stop that,” You grit out.

“Stop what?”

“Smiling at me. Looking at me, just cut it out.”

“I was wondering how long it was going to take you to crack.”

“Crack?”

“You have been dying to snap at me since the day we met.”

“That is not true.”

“No?”

“No!”

“Since when, then?”

“Since you locked me into that dumb fucking contract.”

“I only offered you the contract. You locked yourself into it. Admit it, you hate it. You hate this, you hate me, you hate Jenn.”

The accusation spears through you like a hot, sharp knife.

“That’s not true,” You hiss, rounding your desk.

“You do, you resent her for needing you. You resent her for needing me, too. If she could just get her shit together by herself, neither of us would be here.”

“Fuck you.”

“And if you’d trusted her ability to get shit done, you wouldn’t have taken this job.”

“I thought you would be good for Jenn—You have been good for Jenn, and for the company—”

“But not for you. Nothing I’ve done has been good for you, has it—Not the raise, not the titles, not the work.”

“Shut up.”

“Am I wrong about that, too? Do you secretly like what you do? Or are you just going along to get along, biding your time until you can get out of here?”

“Get out.”

“I paid for this office, I’ll stay here as long as I want.”

“Get. Out.”

“Hell, I paid for you, I’ll talk to you as long as I—”

The slap is louder than his smug pronouncements. You’re certain it stings your hand and his cheek in equal measures. Your gut swoops. Oh—Fuck. Shit. Shit. Your heart pounds; your chest heaves. You swallow thickly as the room falls into complete silence. Nathan’s pupils are blown wide, the darkness nearly fully obscuring the brown you’ve come to know. You see his mouth move, but what he says doesn’t land on your ears the way it should.

“...What?” You ask warily.

“I said, do that again.”

Your stomach churns. He’s got to be kidding.

“No.”

“C’mon,” He urges. “I’ve been pissing you off for a year and a half now, that’s all you’ve got in you? One slap? A half-decent one at that.”

Half-decent? There’s no way. Your palm is still stinging.

“Do it,” He urges, taking a step closer. “Do it again.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hit me.”

“Fuck you—”

“You want me to turn the other cheek?” He asks, tipping his head from one way to the other. You balk at the sight of his red cheek. “Hm?”

“Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“You think I’m mad?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“You should be.”

“Why’s that?” Nathan shakes his head. “You just showed me who you are the first time—who you really are.”

“This isn’t who I am,” You hiss, shaking, "No matter how badly you want to be right, I'll never be you."

“You’re right. If someone I hated offered to let me hit them again, I would’ve done it by now.”

You raise your arm, winding up for a slap, but Nathan catches hold of your wrist before the blow can land. Panic flares in your chest, and you pull in a nervous breath as he yanks you closer. Your feet stumble, leaden weights keeping your unsteady legs nearly locked into place. Nathan keeps his grip on your wrist, his eyes darting over your face.

“You do hate me, don’t you,” He murmurs, breath brushing your lips, fanning the embers of your anger.

“With my entire being, you pompous piece of sh—”

Nathan’s mouth covers yours with fierce harshness before you can get the rest out. You twist in his grasp, wrenching your wrist away from him. He lets go obligingly, but neither of you get far. You cup his cheeks, sinking your teeth into his lower lip and giving it a harsh tug. His growl snaps you out of it, and you draw back.

“Fuck,” You hiss, drawing back, “I can’t, I—” You shake your head.

“Can’t do what?” Nathan goads, hands grasping your hips.

This.

You can’t do this to Jenn. You can’t give in to the man that’s been waiting for you to fall from the moment he met you. You meet Nathan’s eye. You take in the heat lingering there, the still-pink tinge of his cheek.

“I can’t do this here.”

The trip to your apartment is taken in separate cars. It gives you time to change your mind, to clear your head. But you're still just as pissed, just as turned on. The sight of Nathan’s expectant face as he climbs out of his car makes both of those feelings so much worse. He doesn’t ask any questions as he follows you inside, as he stands almost menacingly close in the elevator, as he slouches against the wall as you unlock your door. You toss the keys into the basket by the front door, setting your work bag down.

“Take your shoes off,” You order, nodding to Nathan’s feet as you lean against the wall, kicking yours off. Nathan follows suit as you walk deeper into your apartment, flicking on the light for the kitchen.

“Do you want something to drink?” You ask.

“I want you to hit me as hard as you can.”

“Drop the fucking Fight Club schtick, alright? I told you I was sorry.”

“Were you?”

“I was trying to be.”

“I don’t want you to be.” He leans against your counter, watching you root around in your fridge. “You lose the fire already?”

“Fuck you.” You grumble it, with only half of the heat that you felt in the office. Nathan laughs, shaking his head.

“I knew I should’ve fucked you over your desk.”

The comment makes heat flare in your stomach.

“I wouldn’t have let you fuck me in there,” You shake your head. “That place is a fucking fishtank.”

“You’ll let me fuck you here?”

“I might have to slap you again, get back in the mood.”

“I’d be alright with that.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Nathan chuckles.

“You really are a glutton for punishment.”

“Little bit.”

You gasp as he wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you back toward him. You whirl around, hands balled into fists, and find Nathan waiting for you, eyes bright with intrigue. You shake your head, lowering your hands to rest on his arms—his thick arms.

This is bad. This is awful. Jenn wants this man, has the worst crush you’ve ever seen her have—she needs him for work, for funding, for—

Nathan’s lips catch yours, and all thoughts of Jenn are pushed from your mind. You sigh softly, fingers curling into fists again.

“Fucking hate you,” You mumble against his lips.

“I know,” He laughs, even as you pound one of your fists against his bicep.

“Do you hate me?”

Nathan hums, grasping your hips and steering you back toward your counter.

“I have no strong feelings one way or the other.”

“Oh—You know what, get off of me—” You protest, squirming, but Nathan’s laughing again, and you’re hardly pushing at his chest with any meaning, any force. He sucks a kiss to your neck, and your pushing hands take to grasping and pulling. You turn your head, catching Nathan’s lips with yours, whimpering as his hands push you into the harsh ridge of the counter. You rest your hands on Nathan’s shoulder’s, giving him a shove. You hardly move him. In fact, he leans more heavily against you, practically crushing you into the marble. He draws back from the kiss with a sucking sound, and a groan.

“I like that,” He murmurs.

“What?”

“You know what.”

You hesitate before you give his shoulders another shove, then pound your fist against his arm. When Nathan doesn’t budge, you raise a hand, smoothing it over his cheek, then giving it a little tap.

“C’mon,” He murmurs, “You can do better than that. Make it hurt a little.”

You sweep your tongue across your lip, giving Nathan another tap, just a touch harder this time. Nathan grunts, and it’s all the warning you have before he’s turning you around. You shiver, bracing your hands on the counter. You twist, raising your hands as he draws your shirt up and off. You can’t get your hands out of the sleeves, and Nathan grasps the slack fabric, using the grasp of your shirt to keep your arms behind your back. You whimper, twisting as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. You wriggle against him, pressing your hips back. Nathan groans, pressing his face into your neck as he grinds up against you. Your clit pulses as you squeeze your thighs together, drawing in a shuddering breath.

Nathan opens his mouth, panting hotly against your skin as his hands smooth up your sides and across your front, groping your breasts through your bra. You groan in frustration, your grinding turning to wriggling.

“You gonna fuck around, or are you gonna fuck me?”

You feel Nathan smile before a sharp sting digs into your skin. You hiss at the bite, throwing an elbow back against his gut. Nathan grunts at the contact, jerking away from you. He gives you a harsher shove against the counter, grasping the back of your neck roughly. You suck in a breath as he shoves your pants down around your knees.

“This is the best you can do?” You snip. “Bending me over a counter?”

Nathan chuckles low in your ear, nipping at your earlobe.

“This is where we’re going to start,” He murmurs, “And by the time we’re finished, you won’t be able to stand.”

“Get out of my bed.”

“We aren’t going to cuddle?”

You don’t have to look at Nathan to know that there’s a shit-eating grin on his face. You’ve only spilled into your bedroom about an hour ago, and since you have, he’s drawn three more aching, slow orgasms out of you, and you’ve drawn two out of him. Now, you push yourself up and away from him, clammy hands flexing in the fabric of your sheets before you get up. You suddenly feel a wave of self-conscious nerves, naked in front of him. It didn’t matter to you a few minutes ago, when Nathan had been fucking you roughly from behind, his hands grasping greedily your shoulders, pressing with a force that’ll likely bruise you in just a couple of hours.

“Get out,” You repeat. “You know where the door is.”

You hurry into your bathroom, cranking on the shower. You force yourself inside before the water warms, wincing as the cool drops practically sting your heated flesh. You strain your ears over the sound of the water, biting your lip. You only stop when you hear the retreating thud of Nathan’s feet, and the subsequent sound of your front door closing. Once he’s out, you feel yourself relax marginally, bracing your hands against the wall and tipping your head under the warming water. You take painstaking care to clean yourself, doing your best to wipe his touch, skin, sweat, and cum from every inch of your body.

Fuck, you can’t believe what you’ve done. Nathan is the company’s biggest backer. He helped you gain your footing; he helped you create a proper place for yourself in the market. He’s Jenn’s mentor—he’s Jenn’s crush for christsakes. And you just fucked him.

Repeatedly.

When you finally pull yourself out of the bathroom, the sky is still dark, and the apartment is quiet. You glance down the hall, trying to decide your best plan of action. You hesitate before you ultimately head to your bedroom. For all of your financial growth in the last couple of years, you still only have one set of sheets. Of all of the things that you made it a point to get when you moved into a newer, bigger place, bedding was never really a priority, and your late nights at the office have lessened the need further. Still, you can’t sleep in them tonight, not until you’ve washed them. You yank them off of the bed, balling them up and striding back into the hall, shoving them into the washer with an excess of laundry detergent and scent beads before turning the water setting to hot and the cycle to deep wash.

You turn toward the kitchen next, already bracing for the sight of your discarded clothing, and the items scattered during your first frantic coupling with Nathan. You bite your lip as you come to the doorway, looking around. Cups, papers, a likely shattered BlueBook tablet. You almost want to walk away, to curl up on your bare mattress and ignore the aching in your muscles and core. But you grudgingly walk over and tidy the area, stacking them items and setting them on the counter. You take up the tablet last, wincing at the cracked screen. Yep. Bummer. You ought to expense it, just to spite him. Your lips quirk with a mean smile. Yeah, that’s what you’ll do—at least to annoy him. You’ll send him a repair invoice. Fuck it—you’ll send him an invoice for a whole new one.

“How was last night?”

You nearly choke on your coffee at Jenn’s question, but you just manage to swallow thickly and give her a smile.

“Fine! Good,” You nod. “I think we’re close to a deal.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. They just want to iron out some things contract-wise, but we should get the signatures just in time to onboard them next quarter.”

“Awesome,” Jenn nods, smiling. She hesitates before adding, “Nathan said he was going to listen in on the call.”

“He did.”

“Did he say anything?”

“On the call? No.”

“Afterward?”

“Nnn…Nope.”

“Because a few people said that they heard arguing.”

You bite your lip. You can keep digging the hole that you’ve started, or you can come clean.

“It wasn’t an argument, it was…A spirited discussion.”

Halfway clean.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

“Because, I know that you want me and Nathan to get along. And I know about the creepy little crush you have on Silicon Valley’s former boy-genius, so—”

“Shut up,” Jenn whines, covering her face with her hands, “Oh my god! Am I that obvious?”

“Probably just to me. I know you, hon. Bateman’s a smart guy, but I get the feeling that he doesn’t really get what the hair-tossing was meant to invoke last night.”

Jenn groans again, resting her arms on her desk, and setting her head on her arms. You force a smile through the rotten feeling beginning to curdle in your gut. Jenn stays there for a moment before she lifts her head, resting her chin on her arms.

“So I should be more upfront about my interest.”

It’s not a question, which is concerning.

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

“Why not?”

“Because he’s our biggest backer, and besides you, he has the largest share of the company.”

“It’s not a controlling interest.”

“No, but…If things go sour, are you prepared for the business relationship to go sour?”

“Nathan wouldn’t do that.”

“You sure? He’s, like, the king of emotional blackmail.”

“Maybe, but this has turned out alright, right?” Jenn waves her finger between the two of you. You consider for a moment before you nod.

“Yeah,” You agree, “So far. But you and I aren’t fucking, Jenn. And I don’t have the industry pull and capital to bring the building down if I decide that I don’t like one of us anymore.”

Jenn pouts, dropping her gaze to the desk and drawing in a deep breath.

“Okay,” She mumbles.

“I’m not saying never. I just think you should consider the ramifications.”

“Fiiiiiiine,” Jenn pushes herself to sit up. “What was the spirited argument over, anyway?”

“Just…” You flounder. “How he operates, how I operate. We don’t see eye to eye on most things outside of the business, you know that.”

“You seemed to be better last night. At least, you didn’t spend the evening biting each other’s heads off.”

Your palm tingles with the memory of Nathan’s cheek against your palm; you can see the snap of his head turning at the impact, the flash of hot intrigue in his eyes. You turn your gaze down to your notes in your lap, giving a small shrug.

“We’re getting better.”

“Could you sign for this, please?”

You look up from the email you’re proofreading, nodding when you see one of the people from the mail room holding a slim package.

“Sure thing.” You stand, rounding your desk and taking the proffered signature pad, scrawling it out and then passing it back with a smile. “Thank you.”

“Have a good one.”

"You, too."

You take the package, turning away and rounding your desk and opening it. Your brow furrows as you draw out a receipt and eye the Item Description column—

BlueBookTab - x1

Engrave

Your brows rise, a laugh escaping you. There’s no way. You only sent that invoice this morning, how the hell did Bateman get you a new one already? And engraved? You draw the tablet out of the box, turning it over in your hands and eyeing the etching:

For two years of work

And one night of service

Your jaw drops in shock, a stunned huff leaving you as you shake your head, fingers tightening around the tablet. Oh, you’re tempted to throw it at the wall just to spite him, and invoice him for another—but who knows that nasty shit he’d put on that one?

You consider for a moment before you pitch it at the wall. It hits the floor with a satisfying thud. You pick your phone up, zooming in on the cracked tablet screen on the floor and taking a picture. You drop it into your current text thread with Nathan, sending it, along with one word:

Whoops.

Before you can even close the text messages, you see Nathan typing on the other end. Your stomach flips as you wait. Then—

you can’t keep anything nice can you

Send me another one and let’s find out.

did you like my little message?

Oh, there was a message? I don’t think I saw anything

But then, the things that you do don’t tend to leave an impression

keep it up sweetheart

You bite your lip, trying to fight back the smile pulling your lips. It fails when his next text pops up:

im delivering the next one myself. make sure you don’t miss a thing.

Next part

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @aellynera ; @writefightandflightclub ; @thedukeofcaladan ; @beepboopyoda ; @foxilayde ; @revolution-starter ; @rachelwritesstuff ; @queen-of-elves

#Nathan Bateman x Reader #Nathan Bateman x You #Nathan Bateman/Reader #Nathan Bateman/You #Nathan Bateman fic #Nathan Bateman imagine #Three Years

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mariaxxxxx · 2 months

Text

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

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

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

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

Work count: 9.352

🟣 🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣 🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣 🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣

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

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

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

(…)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine” You said as you stood up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Let's go."

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

“Are you from Madripoor?” You questioned.

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

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

He let out a little laugh. Cute.

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

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

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

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

“Do your parents allow you to work there?”

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

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

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

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

“Thanks for following along.”

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

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

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

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

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

(...)

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

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

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

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

“Orders from above.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come, I want to show you everything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you like it?" Helmut asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(...)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s eat the pizza, little dove.”

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

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

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

"Yes." You said in one breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Enjoy little dove.”

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

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

"Little Dove." He groaned,

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

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

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

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

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

“Heike.” He said between whispers and moans.

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

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

(...)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You look so different, Heike.”

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

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

“No, don’t you dare apologize.”

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

"Everything is fine." You said.

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

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

“I ordered pizza, my favorite.”

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

"I like pizza." You whispered.

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

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

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

(...)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did Helmut love her?”

"Yes."

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

“Do I look like her?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Helmut.” You mumbled. "You love me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you having cravings?” The maid asked.

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

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

“Did you take a pregnancy test?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, my lady.”

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

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

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

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

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

"Everything is fine?" He questioned worriedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This is not right." Oeznik exclaimed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby” You heard him whisper.

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

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

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

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

(…)

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

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

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

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

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

“Please let me...”

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

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

"Sorry." He whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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