#Helmut Zemo drabble

[hughiecampbelle]

Divine (Helmut Zemo Oneshot)

Character/s: Zemo, Bucky

Word Count: 1,691

Requested: rupture + slamming doors + "If I wanted to, I would have already."

A/N: Not requested, just an idea I wanted to try out :) Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

REQUESTS ARE OPEN 🔮

Святой. Иголка. Собака. Покайтесь. Музыка. Шрам. Более легкий. Девятнадцать. Бог. Ангел. He rattles off those words like they are nothing, like they mean nothing, placing them between sentences, attempting coherency, while he waits for the aneurysm to burst. It’s cerebral: meaning “of relating to the brain or intellect”. The words, the diagnosis. You are smart, he knows this, he has seen this, therefore you are destined to be doomed. You always have been. The vessel wall is weak (frail, feeble, fragile) and the blood begins to pool, applying pressure to the nerves. The brain. Eventually, the vessel will fracture and begin to hemorrhage. You have yet to detonate, though you’re close: your seams are loose, the wires crossed, your skull filled to the brim. Seeing red. The rupture will be catastrophic. No survivors. Under your breath you repeat the words: over and over, trying to regain control, trying not to let him win. Your fists are balled. Your voice is shaky. Your heartbeat rapid. Cerebral aneurysms can lead to brain damage, hemorrhagic stroke, coma, and death. You wonder if you will die like this, listing off those words, everything in you fighting for control. You wonder if his voice will still be in your head, all of their voices, while you become undone. 

Святой. Saint. You weren’t devout. Your mother, though, feared the wrath of God. She went to the saints, the individuals, to solve her problems. Her knees bled, and her back broke, and the holy pages became frayed. She wore Mary around her neck, clutching her, cradling her. She pleaded and you’d wait for something to happen. A miracle. A light. Anything. She’s find her glasses and thank St. Anthony. It was St. Raphael who cured you when you were sick. St. Agnes would keep you pure. You didn’t not believe. You had no proof in either direction. It didn’t seem fair to write them all off completely. Still, it didn’t sit right with you. It still doesn’t. You can’t remember her face. In your memories, her features are blank. Her voice, her mannerisms, all of gone along with her name. But her devotion, her begging, has been carved into you, deep enough where Hydra could not touch. All across the world, you’d wander off to churches between jobs, blood scrubbed off your skin, circling the drain as the doors open. The pews lined. The priest would welcome you in, speak to you in his native tongue, and you would shyly reciprocate. If not fluent, then stumbling your way through a prayer to your mothers saints long gone. They don’t hear you: you know this. They heard her, the worked in her favor. You called to them, to help you, to save you, as they tore you apart. Nothing changed. No one stopped. Still, there is a moral obligation, an innately human desire, to ask for forgiveness. Even someone as irredeemable and sullied as you bows your head and clasps your hands together. You prayed to your mother, a stranger now, that she might be looking down on you, that she is not upset with what you have become. A killer. An assassin. Where was St. Agnes now?

Иголка. Needle. There is nothing to compare it to, no history of childhood fits, no surge of panic in your adolescence, nothing, though you’ve been told you become difficult in the presence of needles. You used to put up more of a fight, hysterical at the idea of something sharp and pointed plunging into you. After the accident, most of your body was in ruins. You needed IV’s, and shots, and spinal taps. You screamed and cried and bargained everything you had, everything you were worth. Zola didn’t believe in pain killers. It would be wasted on something that didn’t deserve relief. Strapped to the table, a syringe digging into your spine, he’d shush you, your wimpers, brushing the sweat off your face. His breath was hot, his words pungent. That piece of you never got lost. They tried, they really did. Their own version of exposure therapy. Sam thought you were ridiculous. Your bones, your skin, your muscle put back together, most of you metal and scar tissue (Frankensteineque) and yet your eyes tear up at the thought of a vaccine. You have killed and been killed, but a needle, something so small it’s insignificant, throws off your day. Sends you into a panic. Not because of what they did. Not because, when you were especially difficult to deal with, they’d puncture you like a human pincushion. But something deeper, older, in you that you cannot recite. Something childlike and stubborn remains and they come out even now, petrified and clawing, trying to get away. This piece of you is not embarrassing, as others would expect. Rather it is proof that a part of you is still human. Still mortal. Still you. 

Собака. Dog. He’d look at you the way one does at a rotten dog.  He’d watch you like your canines have fallen out of your gums, like your mouth is a series of sockets and spit, like your legs are chewed and chunkless, and your eyes are glazed over with cataracts. He never meant to. Zola. Loved you as one loves an old dog, too. With admiration and nostalgia. You were his child, his creation, his life. The Winter Soldier was his best, but you would always be his favorite. They broke you before they put you together again. You’d yelp, and bark, and whine. There was so much pain, it was all-encompassing. Blinding. Not just your skin, but in the marrow of your bones. It’s indescribable. He would stand by your side, he would hold your hand. When you regained feeling, eventually, you could feel him squeezing it. One. Two. Three. Your mouth tasted of metal. Even your gums were bleeding. You’d try to speak, but the gag in your mouth prevented it. He loved you. He loved you so much he locked you in a cage. Like a dog, he expected you to obey. To sit, and stand, and protect him, protect them. You were allowed to play, to bite at one another, but they preferred to keep you and Bucky separate. There was a great fear that, if placed beside one another, you would learn to communicate, to work together, and find a way out. The more secluded you were, the safer they would be. 

Шрам. Scar. You didn’t return to the living unscathed. Your body was all scar tissue. Hard, restricting, and thick. Some have faded, others tear open with one wrong move. You were the first of your kind, a test subject they could have a little fun with. It isn’t pretty. Some of it resembles your natural features: they eye they replaced is identical to the real one. Other parts they chose to keep more archaic. You are metal, and flesh, the two working together to keep you in one piece. You used to rust. They’d upgrade the mechanics every few years when something better was invented. It was excruciating. You don’t look like a person. What’s worse, you don’t feel like one. Where there should be softness is sterility. Zemo has seen more than anyone’s been allowed. He’s watched your muscles contort, heard the faint whirring of your limbs as they reconfigure themselves. He understands why Zola loved you so. You were beautiful. When the time came to use you, to blame you, a small part of him was remorseful. Sorry. You still catch him staring. Not out of anger or confusion, but infatuation. They all liked you for your body. That never stops. Not in life, not after death. 

Ангел. Angel. That was your name, the one they gave you when you forgot your own. There was The Winter Soldier and there was The Angel. Instinctual, you answered to it. A reflex. A habit. You chose a new one. Your therapist thought it was a good idea, to put distance between you and the thing they created. There were no files, no identification, no ties to anyone or anything, though. As far as they could find, you had always been Angel. Your identity not only stripped, it has been decimated. It’s as if you already belonged to them even before you got there. My angel, Zola would say, his tone affectionate, his mannerisms disturbing. The Angel, Zemo would bask in awe. You were real after all. You were still getting used to the one you gave yourself. Two, maybe three seconds before you recognized someone was trying to get your attention. All those years, it was hard to break. You’d like to think your mother would have laughed: her child? This child? An angel? You were cynical. Masochistic. Ruthless. You killed some of the most important people on the planet and you did it well. If nothing else, there was a sense of pride, a sense of duty, completion. You did so quietly, silently, and when you were done, eye-witnesses swore they truly saw an angel. How fitting. 

Святой. Иголка. Собака. Покайтесь. Музыка. Шрам. Более легкий. Девятнадцать. Бог. Ангел. Your hand is wrapped around his throat. Sam and Bucky are at your sides, trying to deescalate the situation. He watches you knowingly, expectantly. He wanted this to happen. It would be so easy. Can’t they see? Can’t they understand? Slip back into place. Disappear, go into hiding, and live as you did. You weren’t just good, you were excellent. You could crush his windpipe without a second thought. But Bucky, cautiously, places his hand on your arm. If you meet his eyes, you will have to let go. You will back away. You will become a dog again, beaten and abused, forced to obey. He can see it in your features. He knows what this would mean. But he is a changed person, a desperate person who needs Zemo. So you do. I see you are still following orders. Too scared to kill me? His voice comes out strained, choking, but he is remains arrogant. If I wanted to, I would have already. You spit, slamming the door behind you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drabble Roulette: Helmut Zemo + Mob AU

Hey hey! This weekend (July 6 -7) I’m going to be playing drabble roulette! I’ve curated a list of characters, tropes, AUs, and kinks and I’m spinning the wheel! Hopefully I can do this once a month as a little writing exercise.

Character: Helmut Zemo

Warnings: this drabble includes illegal activity and drunkeness. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+. Please reblog and leave some feedback.

A giggle bubbles up from your throat. You don’t know why it’s so funny. Maybe it’s the absurdity. Maybe you’re just tired of being the other one. Or you’re drunk. Very drunk. 

You glance over at Shantal. She’s making eyes at the guy who brought her a lime twist cocktail. He’s into her too. And Traci grinds on the dance floor with a buff guy you know spends more time in the gym than doing actual work. And you, well, you get the cream of the crop, don’t you? 

As the man approaches, you try to ignore him. Try not to see him. Maybe he’ll get the hint. You’re really not interested. 

He doesn’t. He sits beside you on the long bench behind the table and sets the second martini in front of you. You repress a cringe. You hate to be rude but you can’t help another giggle. 

He looks older up close. You could tell before he’s beyond your age range. Do you have one of those? Not like you have a vast field for selection. Next to the young studs your friends have reeled in, his seniority is even more stark. 

“You look lonely,” he slithers. 

You put on your best smile. It’s hard. You’re mortified. 

“Um, thanks, that’s nice but...” you look away and wet your lips, laughing again. “I’m sorry I’m not looking--” 

“Mm, you could’ve fooled me the way you keep peeking over at your friend. You are rather green.” 

You wince at the insult. You’re not jealous but you do wish you could find them as east as Shantal. You shrug. 

“I appreciate the gesture but I think I might be a bit... young for you,” you suggest. 

It’s his turn to laugh and he does. Heartily. He stirs the cocktail with the toothpick, three olives skewered upon it. He raises his chin and inhales through his nose, looking around the flashing club. Why is he even there? It can’t be much fun hanging out with coeds at that age. 

He looks at you smugly, “do you have any idea who you’re laughing at?” 

His expression turns dire and your stomach drops. Something in his dark eyes strangles you. You shake your head and look at the stemmed glass. 

“Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” you utter. 

“We’re meeting. Now.” 

“Right,” you hesitate. This is awkward. You don’t know what he wants you to say. “I am the designated driver so--” 

“Don’t lie to me,” he sneers. “I’ve watched you keep pace with these sluts you call friends. You’re slurring right now and I can smell the vodka on your breath,” he leans in, “I’d rather taste it.” 

“Excuse me?” You sputter. 

“You’ve got a pretty mouth,” his eyes flick down to your lips, “go on, have a sip.” 

“You’re gross.” 

“I bought you a drink so don’t be so impolite,” he retorts. “I’m sorry, did you have a line up?” 

He peers around again, even more smug than before. That hurts.  

“You know, you catch more bees with honey--” 

“I already own you,” he insists, “you’re in my club, you have my liquor in your stomach, and you are sat at my table. So, show some manners and drink what I give you.” 

You shake your head. This man is confounding. Is he flirting or demeaning you? 

“I recommend you weigh this very carefully. I don’t just own this snake’s pit. The landlord you pay for their basement, I know him. He pays me his dues. And the college campus, yes, well, several professors have a taste for gambling, and I suppose you would need to deal with the banks...” 

“You’re lying--” 

“Perhaps, would you like to find out the hard way or the easy way,” he reaches over and taps the glass before you, “I do find gin does go down rather smoothly.” 

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙯𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙨 | helmut zemo x reader

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

word count: 4.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Narrowly," you interjected.

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

"That's not—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what you want?” he taunted.

“Get the fuck off me!” you yelped.

“Make me,” he challenged.

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

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

“You wouldn’t,” you sneered incredulously.

“Wouldn’t what, dear?”

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

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

A little relieved, you started to catch your breath.

“I don’t need to.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And that time you shot me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“F-fuck you,” you stammered roughly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded weakly, biting down on your shaking lip.

“Then give me what I want.”

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

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

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

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

He was in a robe now, and carrying two crystal glasses of water.  He smiled at you as he sat back down on the floor, laying beside you on the blanket and handing you your glass.  “Figured you would need this soon enough,” he explained with a soft voice as you sipped carefully at the water.  You weren’t really ready to talk to him yet, but you wanted to thank him for the water, so you just nodded and hoped that would get the point across.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

Drabble Roulette Masterlist

July 6/7

Drabble Roulette: Knifeplay - Steve Rogers

Drabble Roulette: F*ck Machine - Bucky Barnes

Drabble Roulette: Rafe - cheater won’t let go

Drabble Roulette: Matt Murdock - Flowershop AU

Drabble Roulette: Kraven - Forced Pregnancy

Drabble Roulette: Andy - Public Sex

Drabble Roulette: Brock Rumlow - Stolen Bride

Drabble Roulette: Helmut Zemo + Mob AU

Drabble Roulette: Cole Turner - Age Gap | Part 2

Drabble Roulette: August Walker + Face Sitting

Drabble Roulette: Lloyd Hansen - Bounty Hunter

Drabble Roulette: God the Bounty Hunter - Break-In

Drabble Roulette: Tommy Miller - Only One Bed

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

💥Marvel Masterlist💥

Smut: 🔥🔥

Fluff: 🌸🌸

Heated Fluff: ⭐️⭐️

Friendly: 🌈🌈

Angst: 🌨️🌨️

💙 Collages

💚 Oneshot

💖 Preference/Headcanon 

💜 Quotes

💞 Drabble

Adam Warlock

- Virginity 💚🔥

- It’s Okay Not To Be Okay 💞🌨️🌸

Bucky

- Nightmare 💙🌸🌨️

- Hike 💙🌸

- Gags 💚🔥

- So Desperate 💚🔥

- Please Love Me 💚⭐️🌨️

- Crush 💞⭐️

- Don’t Drink 💚🌨️🌸

- Swing Dancing 💙🌸

- Betty Boop 💙⭐️

- Drunk Mistake 💚🌸⭐️

- Colour In 💙🌸

- Camp Fire 💚⭐️

- It’s My Fault 💚🌨️

- Sensitive 💖🔥

- Nazis Stole My Brain 💞🌸

- Doll 💖🌸

Charles Xavier

- Best Friend 💖🌈

Fandral

- Denial 💚🔥

- Two Fae in The Forest 💚🔥

Helmut Zemo

- Medical Play 💚🔥

- Pancakes Fix Everything 💚🌸🌨️

- Car Ride 💚🔥

- Undercover Hurt 💚🌨️

- Can I Hold Your Hand? 💚🌸

Logan

- Daddy 💚🔥

- Lyrics 💙🌸

Loki

- Hate 💚🔥

- Don’t Care About You 💚🔥

- So Desperate 💚🔥

- Use Your Words 💚🔥

- Mini Skirt 💙⭐️

- Trouble In The Garden 💚🔥🌸

- Two Fae in The Forest 💚🔥

- Is This A Date? 💚🌸

- Fairy 💙⭐️

- Colour In 💙🌸

- Fairy Wings 💙🌸

Natasha

- Crush 💞⭐️

- Ballet 💙🌸

Pietro

- Praise 💚🔥

Sif

- Free Use 💚🔥

Steve Rogers

- Collar 💚🔥

- His Desires 💚🔥

- I Thought I Lost You 💚🌸

- Bombshell 💙🌸

Thor

- Sensory Deprivation 💚🔥

- Rock Concert 💙🌸

- Armour 💙⭐️

Venon/Eddie

- Monster 💚🔥

- Venom To The Rescue 💚🌸🌨️

Victor Creed

- Bondage 💚🔥

Yelena

- Dating 💙🌸

Multiple

- Meeting Your Partner 💖🌸

- Asking You Out 💖🌸

- Kink Alphabet 💖🔥

- Cosplayer 💖🌈

[princesevsnape]

Drabble Requests

I would some more drabble requests. I find they are easier for me to write especially between longer requests. Send in a prompt or a few and the characters you’d like the drabble to be for. Send in a trope if you would like to add a specific trope to the drabble too. This just means I get to post more content and can write things a bit quicker in between the longer requests.

Prompt List

Character List

Trope List

Here is a short list of characters I would like to see some requests for. Obviously you can still send requests in for the other characters on my full character list these are just a few I’d like to hopefully see some requests for .

Percy Weasley

Cormac Mclaggen

Bill Weasley

Charlie Weasley

James Potter

Lorenzo Berkshire

Newt Scamander

Theseus Scamander

Regulus Black

Ron Weasley

Tom Riddle

Viktor Krum

Bucky Barnes

John Walker

Garreth Weasley

Ominis Gaunt

Sirius Black (Sir Gary Oldman version)

Remus Lupin

Helmut Zemo

[winterbonesthings]

Count your sins by candle light by Rainbow_WinterBones

Summary:

A birthday surprise for Zemo turns into a surprise for Bucky.

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV)

Relationship:

James "Bucky" Barnes/Helmut Zemo

Characters:

James "Bucky" Barnes

Helmut Zemo

Additional Tags:

Drabble

Birthday Fluff

Language: English

Stats:

Published: 2024-08-16

Words: 100

Chapters: 1/1

[wlwloverwrites]

wip folder

tagged by @logaenhowlett @cruel-as-sin

rules: in a new post, post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a snippet or tell us about it.

Know Better (old man logan x latina reader) juno fic

untitled bucky barnes juno fic

Present boyfriend (part 2 of Future boyfriend) theres six different versions of this fic

untitled fwb kate bishop drabble

untitled sub natasha drabble

untitled layla el-faouly fic

forget her (makkari x eternal reader)

mi amor, mi corazon (helmut zemo fic)

leaving tags open !

[peachyxboy]

✧˖° Masterlist ˖⁺‧₊˚ ✧

⊹˙⋆ Lalo Salamanca ⋆˙⊹

Series:

A Love so Sweet, it Hurts

One-shots:

It’s a Salamanca!

HCs & Drabble

TBA

⊹˙⋆ The Salesman ⋆˙⊹

Series:

TBA

One-shots:

TBA

HCs & Drabbles:

⊹˙⋆ Helmut Zemo ⋆˙⊹

Series:

TBA

One-shots:

TBA

HCs & Drabbles:

TBA

[ao3feed-sambucky]

Soldier

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/IHG6u4p by Heartswarm Lowtown, Madripoor - Bucky had to play the part of the Winter Soldier for the team to obtain information. Then shit just got too real. SamBucky drabble (100 words) Words: 100, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Helmut Zemo Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson Additional Tags: Madripoor (Marvel), Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Soldat - Freeform, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Comfort, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes has DID - Dissociative Identity Disorder, Protective Sam Wilson, sambucky - Freeform, sambucky drabble, Episode: s01e03 Power Broker (The Falcon and the Winter Soldier TV), Hurt Bucky Barnes, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Tone shift in the middle read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/IHG6u4p

[justanoasisimagines]

Heroes versus Villians October Event

Hey lovelies, throughout the month of October, I'll be posting twice a day for a hero and a Villian. Below is the list of what's going to be posted.

1st October - Neville Longbottom (Blurb) & Aemond Targaryen (Blurb) 2nd October - Podrick Payne (Blurb) & Victor Zsasz (Gotham) 3rd October - Elijah Mikealson (Drabble) & Charles Vane (Headcanon) 4th October - Steve Rogers (Love Letter) & Clay Morrow (Love Letter) 5th October - Neal "Baelfire" Cassidy (Headcanon) & Phillip Graves (Headcanon) 6th October - Alex Keller (Love Letter) & Rollo (Blurb) 7th October - Harwin Strong (Headcanon) & Ramsay Bolton (Drabble) 8th October - Bruce Wayne (Drabble) & Kraven the Hunter (Headcanon) 9th October - Aethelred (Drabble) & Tom Riddle (Blurb) 10h October - Captain James Flint (Blurb) & Niklaus Mikealson (Headcanon) 11th October - Daryl Dixon (Blurb) & Negan (Headcanon) 12th October - Viktor Krum (Blurb) & George "Digger" Harkness (Drabble) 13th October - Captain John Price (Headcanon) & Cormac McLaggen (Drabble) 14th October - David Hale (Drabble) & Gaston (Drabble) 15th October - Clint Barton (Headcanon) & Aegon II Targaryen (Drabble) 16th Drabble - Gwayne Hightower (Blurb) & Miguel Galindo (Love Letter) 17th October - Adrian Chase (Blurb) & The Joker *Heath Ledger" (Love Letter) 18th October - The Beast (Headcanon) & Vladimir Makarov (Headcanon) 19th October - Alden (Love Letter) & Ceasar Martinez (Drabble) 20th October - Stefan Salvatore (Drabble) & John Walker (Headcanon) 21st October - Johnny "Coco" Cruz (Blurb) & Ivar the Boneless (Blurb) 22nd October - August Wayne Booth (Love Letter) & Troy Otto (Blurb) 23rd October - Ragnar Lothbrok (Blurb) & Damon Salvatore (Headcanon) 24th October - Theon Greyjoy (Love Letter) & Rumplestiltskin (Love Letter) 25th October - Bucky Barnes (Headcanon) & Criston Cole (Drabble) 26th October - Rick Flag (Love Letter) & Koing (Love Letter) 27th October - Simon "Ghost" Riley (Love Letter) & Killian Jones (Drabble) 28th October - Dewey Riley (Headcanon) & Billy Loomis (Blurb) 29th October - John Dorie (Drabble) & Viserys Targaryen (Drabble) 30th October - Matthias Helvar (Love Letter) & Baron Helmut Zemo (Blurb) 31st October - Robert "Bob" Floyd (Blurb) & Stu Macher (Headcanon)

[marvelmusing]

At His Feet

Zemo x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: implied 18+ content

My Masterlist

°•. ✿ .•°

“Where do you want me?” You ask, turning to face Zemo. He frowns in confusion. “In your lap, or at your feet?” Sam and Bucky seem rather put off at your suggestion, but Zemo holds your stare. They asked for you to be the eye candy after all, and whilst you don’t want to admit it, you wouldn’t mind getting on your knees for him. Zemo seems deep in thought. “We don’t have much time, Baron.” You tell him, as your group approaches the end of the corridor. He slips his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. He presses a kiss to your temple, trailing his lips to graze against your ear as he murmurs,

“At my feet, Liebling.” Your eyes flicker back to his gaze, before giving him a subtle nod of confirmation. One of the guards addresses Zemo,

“Selby will be with you in a moment.” He nods and settles down in a nearby chair. Sam and Bucky stand on either side of him. Once Zemo is seated, you sink down onto your knees, sitting on the floor with his foot between your thighs. It doesn’t take long for you to get reasonably comfortable. Your eyes follow Sam as he wanders along the side of the room, casually looking at some of the decor. Your attention is pulled away by Zemo as he shifts his foot, pressing the top of his shoe up against your core.

“Eyes on me, Liebling.” You clench your jaw in an attempt to prevent your whimper at the contact. You adjust your position, pulling yourself flush against his leg. You try and pull the skirt of your dress down, as the position of your thighs causes the fabric ride up. You catch Zemo’s eye as you’re wrestling with the material. He raises a brow at you before leaning forward to observe your struggle. “And what do you think you’re doing?” He asks, his tone a mixture of stern and mocking. Your face warms as you attempt to explain your situation. He looks down at the dress. “Keep your legs a little closer together, but leave the dress as it is now.” Your stomach flips as his words run through your mind. It’s almost like he wants you to be comfortable. Or as comfortable as you could be on the floor of a Madripoorian criminal’s lair. “Liebling?” He prompts and you obey him instantly with a small,

“Yes sir.”

“Braves Mädchen.” Good girl. You duck your head at the praise, but he hooks a finger under your chin. He frowns slightly, confused a little that you understood his Sokovian. You settle your chin against his knee, and look up into his eyes. His gaze is soft as he admires your face, but a small smirk lingers on his lips. He moves his hand to trail his fingers against your cheek. You hum contentedly, your eyes flickering closed for a second. At that moment, you almost forget that you’re on a mission. All you can think of is how good his attention makes you feel.

[make-me-imagine]

I'd love a drabble 🥺

I just really love this look w the holster

It is a very good look <3

- - - - -

You walked into the safe house with a huff, your eyes scanned the room, finding Zemo making himself a drink, Bucky looking out the window, and could hear Sam in the adjacent room.

Zemo turned at the sound of your entry, his eyes scanning over you. You ignored the burning feeling it seemed to leave behind as his eyes bored into you.

Removing your jacket, you threw it onto the sidearm of a chair. Zemo turned and gestured his glass to you. "Drink?" You scanned him yourself now. He was wearing all black, and a holster that was usually hidden under his coat. You found you often forgot he had been a soldier and a member of a death squad years prior.

You shook your head, "No thanks."

He smiled lightly at you as you exited the room. He smiled softly to himself as he watched you. You two often caught each other studying the other, which often made Zemo think the tension between the two of you was not always that of distrust.

xx

[daremartyevil]

2 and 29 from the fluff prompts w zemo pls? maybe they're in bed at night and talking or

LOVELY NIGHT | H. ZEMO

word count: 369 summary: as helmut returns home, you think that you can finally sleep in peace. but, doubts come in.

You should be sleeping, you know that.

The night outside the window is bright, full of stars setting against the darkness and forcing you to face your thoughts. You could try all you want, but even Helmut has commented before about how you're agitated when overthinking.

Speaking of which, you sigh and turn to face his sleeping figure.

Your heart got heavy and you took a deep breath, after years, there he is. Finally, Helmut is with you, sleeping so calmly in his bed and not in a cell.

There aren't any more reasons to be worried about... Right?

"What are you thinking, Liebling?" opening his eyes slowly, the baron questions, his voice sounds deep and sleepy.

"It's nothing" you shake your head, but your partner doesn't seem to believe you since he raises his brows at you, "Okay, I'm just... Why?"

This single question is disturbing your head since the moment that Helmut returned home. With his bright honey brown eyes, grinning as if he had won the prizes of the prizes.

Helmut is at home. He is by your side. He is where he is supposed to be.

But-

"Why?" he asks back and tilts his head at you, confused, "What do you mean?"

"Why did you come back?" you blurb the question out, biting the inside of your cheeks, "You could be anywhere in the world, so... Why me?"

Helmut listens to you, quiely. Acknowledging each one of your words and holding back a smile, as if he couldn't believe that this is why you can't sleep.

Even though, slowly, he caresses your cheeks and approaches you.

Then, casting out all your fears, he whispers, "Because I love you"

Simple as that.

You look at him, only to find truth in what he said. He just said it, without hesitation or doubts.

"Liebling," Helmut sighs, "I don't want to go anywhere in the world if I can not be with you. No power or mission is important to me if you're not there. So, next time you ask yourself why... It’s you, it always has been.”

He kisses the top of your head, pulling you to his chest. Then, finally, you can sleep without a fear.

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

July 7/23 Masterlist Update

✅ - finished 🆕 - new series

Series

Marvel

The Little Things In Life (Steve Rogers)

Never Too Late ✅(Steve Rogers)

Outside the Lines 🆕(Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes)

All the Good Girls Go To Hell🆕(Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes)

Watching, Waiting…🆕(Bucky Barnes)

In the Summertime🆕(Helmut Zemo)

Take Shelter🆕(Thor)

No Time This Time🆕(Tony Stark)

Other Fandoms

Who’s The Boss?🆕(Lloyd Hansen, The Gray Man)

Wildest Dreams (Andy Barber, Defending Jacob)

River Below (Rafe Canerom, The Outer Banks)

Only Yesterday 🆕(Nick Fowler, The 355)

Laisse tomber les filles ✅(Lee Bodecker, The Devil All the Time)

Don’t Speak🆕(Andy Barber, Defending Jacob)

To be alone with you🆕(Clark Kent, DC)

Multifandom

Pretty Petals (Multifandom)

Crushed (Colin Shea, What’s Your Number; Jonathan Pine, Night Manager)

One Shots

Marvel

Graceless (Steve Rogers)

Other Fandoms

Through the Eye (John Wick)

God Mode (God The Bounty Hunter, Ghosted)

Double Trouble (Lloyd Hansen, The Gray Man; August Walker, Mission Impossible: Fallout)

Drabbles

Series

Marvel

Drawn Together🆕(Steve Rogers)

Wallflower✅(Thor)

One (Steve Rogers)

Hide and Seek 🆕(Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes)Watching, Waiting…🆕

Resistance (Bucky Barnes)

Other Fandom

Unexpected (Lloyd Hansen)

Multifandom

Sweet Treat Epilogues🆕

The Club AU🆕

One Offs

Marvel

Make You Feel My Love (Bucky Barnes)

Other Fandoms

Paradigm Shift (August Walker, Mission Impossible: Fallout)

Let’s Have A Picnic (Lloyd Hansen, The Gray Man)

Multifandom

Song Lyric Drabble Requests (Multifandom)

[thesuitkovian]

“Home stopped being a place when you entered my life.” + “I haven’t seen them smile in months.” w/ Zemo

A/N: Zemo, my love, mi amore, my darling, my husband. Mwah <3

Prompt: “Home stopped being a place when you entered my life.” + “I haven’t seen (them) smile in months.” w/ Zemo

Word Count: 406

Content Warnings: Zemo x Reader, gn! reader, they're fiances, helmut on the run, fluff, a kiss

A few feet away from your ‘sleeping’ form, Helmut and Oeznik stand in the doorway to the living room of your home, speaking about you. They don’t know you’re awake and the only thing keeping you from alerting them of this fact by tackling Helmut with a hug is your curiosity about what they’re saying.

“How has Y/n been?” Helmut asks, his familiar accent and whispering tone making a shiver run down your spine. There’s a moment of silence and then Zemo continues, “It’s okay, Oeznik, you can tell me the truth.

“I haven’t seen Y/n smile in months, sir...”

You can hear the Baron’s pained sigh, and can just imagine the expression on his face. You wish Oeznik hadn’t told him that, you didn’t want your fiance to worry about you so much and this new information would only make it worse.

“Could you give us a moment alone, please, Oeznik?”

“Of course, sir.”

Oeznik’s steps completely fade from your hearing range before Helmut approaches you, sitting quietly on the coffee table. “Y/n, I know you’re not actually sleeping.”

You roll over, itching to immediately launch yourself at him, but you want to also show your displeasure with him.

“Hello, Helmut.” You greet, keeping your voice steady and politely formal.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know you’re upset, liebling, but this is for your own benefit. You are safer here, where Oeznik can take care of you and keep you safe.”

“You could keep me safer than him!” You interject on instinct, sitting up quickly and forgetting all pretenses of acting aloof.

He thinks on this for a moment, nodding slowly, “Then if not for safety, then because you deserve a steady, stable life. Something I cannot provide for you while on the run. A home.”

“Helmut, home stopped being a place when you entered my life,” You scooch to the edge of the couch, so you’re looking at him head on, knees touching, “You’re my home, Helmut.”

You close the distance between the two of you, kissing him passionately in a last ditch attempt at getting him to agree. You bring your other hand to the other side of his face, leaning as close to him as you can get.

He breaks away from you, resting his forehead to yours as you wait impatiently for an answer.

“Alright, liebling. I will take you with me this time.”