#Helmut Land | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hereticpriest · 3 months

Text

Pyrrhic

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Baron Helmut Zemo x Female Reader

Length: 14k+

Summary: Once, HYDRA sought to create an improved version of the super soldier through breeding the Winter Soldier with another super soldier they made for that express purpose.

Now, fourteen years after escaping HYDRA's clutches, Bucky Barnes comes to you for help with the rise of super soldiers under the title Flagsmashers. Unfortunately, Barnes' feelings drive you closer to Baron Helmut Zemo, and you find yourself hoping for a future for the first time in your life.

Warnings: Unrequited Bucky Barnes/Reader, Bucky Barnes is a bit controlling, Manipulative Helmut Zemo, HYDRA comes with it's own whole bucket of warnings, HYDRA had a secret super soldier breeding program, Reader is a kidnapping victim, Reader is 3/4 Sokovian, P in V sex, oral sex (f receiving), reference to potential purity kink, loss of virginity, reader is touch-adverse, reader is also touch-starved, shower sex, ambiguous ending, consent is discussed multiple times, enthusiastic consent, Helmut Zemo is a consent king. Let me know if I missed something!

“Are you ever going to tell us about this person you’re insisting we need for this mission?” Sam asked as he stepped carefully through the thick brush of the forest around them. Bucky ducked under a large branch, shoulders tense as he practically stalked through the woods. His companions, reluctant as they may be, could tell that he didn’t want to answer the question - he was always evasive, but something about this person was making him especially tense. Sam was just happy that the Baron had kept his mouth shut so far. Considering his royal upbringing, one might think he would struggle on this mostly uphill hike through thick forest and untamed land, however Sam knew he’d been part of an elite Sokovian task force and that he had the strength and stamina to prove it.

“She was called Mat when I knew her, though she hated the title, so I wouldn’t recommend using it. Too fucking young for it anyways.” Bucky spat that last sentence, and Sam raised an eyebrow sceptically, not having the linguistic context to put two and two together. Zemo, however, huffed a breath laced with disdain and curiosity. Bucky shot him a dangerous look over his shoulder, and the Baron raised his hands placatingly, though Sam noticed him roll his eyes the moment Barnes looked away. The tension had been at a record high since Zemo was broken out of the German prison he’d been interred in, and Sam was starting to get sick of playing mediator between them.

“How did you know her?” Sam asked, and James paused mid-step, then turned to his two companions.

“She was held by an offshoot group of HYDRA scientists at a lab in the Czech Republic from the age of eight. They gave her a modified version of the super soldier serum used on the soldiers at the Siberian facility against her will, and they kept her locked in the facility until she escaped when she was eighteen.” Every word was said carefully, and while Sam took that as Bucky struggling to tell the girl’s story, Zemo observed him with open curiosity. He could tell that there was quite a bit that the former Winter Soldier wasn’t telling them.

“Modified how?” He asked, and Barnes scowled, but Sam’s equally curious gaze made him bite his cheek to stop from chewing the Baron out.

“She was… faster than any other super soldier I’ve ever seen. Not as strong physically, but her reaction time is far superior. She heals fast like the rest of us, but they did something to her pain responses. Dulled them, but didn’t remove them completely. She wasn’t as aggressive as the ones in Siberia were. The scientists made some hormonal changes as well.” Bucky shrugged, getting uncomfortable as he mentioned that last part, and Zemo tilted his head, studying his reactions.

“She didn’t want the serum, though? I mean, she was eight when they took her. How old was she when they gave it to her?” Sam asked, and Barnes closed his eyes briefly, his expression pained.

“They gave it to her shortly after she arrived at the facility. Maybe a month. She was just a kid. I could hear her screaming from the other side of the facility. They didn’t put her through the same brainwashing bullshit they did to me, but she wasn’t willing like the other soldiers, so they… they used to beat her until she started to learn to fight back like they wanted. She tried to escape, but they never let her out of the facility.” He replied, “So don’t start up your ‘I need to kill all super soldiers’ bullshit with her, Zemo. She never had a choice.”

The Baron considered his words, pursing his lips for a moment before softening ever so slightly.

“As you say, she was only a child.”

Bucky nodded, then continued his solemn march, cresting the top of the hill and sighing as a dark wood cabin came into view. Smoke trailed from the chimney, and there was a long driveway heading from the cabin to the road they’d abandoned nearly a mile back due to Bucky’s insistence that they approach on foot from the forest lest she know they were coming. An old, beat up pickup truck sat like a rusty silver beacon in the driveway with a large, newer-looking storage box hooked into the bed. There was a storage shed behind the cabin, and an old, large stump that appeared to be used as a woodcutter’s block considering the axe sunk deep into it. The firewood rack was full to the brim against the right wall of the cabin, and a full clothesline hung between the opposite side of the cabin and a sturdy nearby tree.

“You okay, man?” Sam asked, clapping Bucky on the shoulder when the other man didn’t move for over a minute, staring at the cabin trepidatiously. The hundred-and-six year old man was always tense, but his shoulders felt like iron under Sam’s hand.

“She might not be happy to see me.” Barnes admitted, and Sam hummed his acknowledgement, then started trudging down the small slope towards the house. This finally kicked Bucky into movement, and he followed swiftly, pausing only briefly when he spotted your tall frame exiting the shed behind the cabin. There was a Browning Citori against one shoulder, and blood had soaked into the dirty blue plaid shirt you wore. Your knees were muddy from kneeling in the woods. To the far left of the cabin in a clearing past a line of thick trees were two worn stones sticking out of the earth, and you approached calmly, dropping to kneel before them.

“Well, she looks real friendly.” Sam mused, clapping Bucky on the back, “Good luck.”

Five hours earlier, you had thumped a deer carcass down on the butcher table in your shed, then hung your trusty shotgun on the rack behind the door where it belonged. It had taken you a long time to perfect field dressing, and even longer to learn to get good at butchering your meat, but you had learned. You had no choice. Society and its shiny grocery stores full of pre-packaged food were far too dangerous for you. HYDRA still had a hold on the world when you first escaped, and there were still monstrous little tentacles everywhere who had escaped the punishment they deserved for what they had done. You knew how to hunt humans, so animals weren’t such a big stretch. Now, after fourteen years, you were an expert at surviving on your own. You went into town once a month at most, on a different day every time to avoid routine, to pick up the essentials you couldn’t scavenge for yourself.

With the deer butchered and packed away in your meat freezer, you made your way towards the two gravestones just out of view of your cabin. With a heavy sigh, you tucked the shotgun under your chin, sitting with it between your knees, and stared at the cold stones. Upon one, Rickard Stroud. On the other, Imogen Whitley.

“Thank you both. Thank you Imogen, for having mercy on a broken creature and freeing me from my shackles. I’m sorry that I couldn’t save you in return. I bet you’re sick of hearing it by now, but I will never forget what you sacrificed for me. Thank you Rickard, for leaving me everything I needed to survive. I wish I could have known you. I hope you wouldn’t be too mad at me for moving into your home, but I promise I’ve tried my best to maintain it with the care you clearly did.”

Bucky jerked forwards as he watched you point the shotgun at yourself, panic racing through his veins at the thought of losing you before he’d even gotten you back. Not that he’d ever had you in the first place - you were a name on his reparations list that he needed to cross off. He was responsible for what happened to you, regardless of whether he was in control of himself or not. The entire choice to upend and ruin your life was made because of him. The inability to make amends sparked every selfish fear response in his body.

“Wait-” The Baron’s gloved hand closed around Bucky’s metal bicep, not quite able to pull him back, but enough to pause his forward momentum, “Look closely, James. Her finger is not on the trigger. This is a ritual.”

Sam felt sympathy coil in his gut as he watched the woman kneel in the dirt, the cold metal against her skin as if it gave her peace. He inwardly acknowledged that if anyone might understand a grief ritual of this specific breed, it might be Zemo, though he didn’t want to give the man the credit. Bucky stared down at her, seeming to deflate before their very eyes, though his face showed some measure of relief. He shrugged Zemo’s hand off of his arm, then continued forwards at a slower pace, no longer panicking. Zemo watched for a moment before following them, noting the way the woman’s head tilted ever-so-slightly in their direction before straightening out again.

Three approached from the southwest. One stomped through the forest despite the ability to soften his steps, one walked with purpose but made a poor attempt to soften his steps, and the third walked leisurely but with an awareness to his gait. All soldiers of varying service, if you weren’t mistaken. One of them was, unfortunately, familiar.

You let out a long, laboured sigh as you laid your shotgun down in front of you, then pushed yourself up from your knees. The footsteps stopped, and you shed your plaid shirt, leaving yourself in only a black undershirt and your muddy sweatpants. If this was going to be a fight, you’d make sure it was one they regretted. You spun to face the trio with a raised eyebrow, biceps flexing, shoulders rolling as you prepared yourself.

“Soldat. Falcon. Ah, and the Baron as well, how curious. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You asked, noticing Bucky’s gaze fixed on your shotgun, “Relax, Soldat, I’m far too much of a coward.”

The former Winter Soldier scoffed, taking another step closer to you but freezing when you took a step back, “I’m not going to do anything, doll. I’m not… I’m not him anymore.”

The Falcon put his hand on Barnes’ shoulder as if to hold him back and steady him all in one shot while the former Winter Soldier processed your fear of him, guilt eating away at his guts. The Baron leaned against a tree nearby to observe, just out of the way to avoid getting in the middle of any conflict.

“I know what you are, Barnes. Better than most.” You replied, glancing from him to the Baron and taking the time to stare at him from top to bottom, curious, “You’re working with Zemo. I would assume that meant you were here to kill me, but you would have chosen an easier method, surely. Which means that there’s another super soldier or two running about, and you’ve decided to try and bring me along. Why?”

Bucky squirmed as your intense stare moved from the now slightly flushed Baron back to him, and he clenched his fists a few times to work through the nerves.

“I’ve known where you were for a while. Look, I don’t want to call you… that, so what name are you using these days? Your old name?” You don’t answer him right away, brow arched sceptically as you observe his expression. “You’re long overdue for an apology, and we need someone who can go toe-to-toe with super soldiers.”

You scoffed, turning your back on them.

“I don’t have- I’ve been going by Stroud, after the guy who owned this cabin before I found it. My old name is no one’s business but mine, Barnes. He certainly doesn’t need to know any more about me than he already does. I’d like to be offended that you brought a man to my doorstep who will no doubt want me dead, but I suppose that the greater good calls, doesn’t it?” You asked, gesturing towards Zemo, whose somewhat conflicted expression did nothing to quell your worry.

“I don’t want you dead, liebling. You did not choose your fate, and you’ve kept to yourself instead of enforcing your will on others.” The Baron said confidently, and you acknowledged him with a nod, then turned a twisted smirk towards Barnes.

“You didn’t tell them my whole story, clearly. Was that to protect me, James, or was it to protect yourself?” You asked, and both Sam and Zemo turned their concerned gazes to the former soldier. You picked up your shotgun lazily, marching towards the house.

“Why don’t we go inside and Barnes can tell you the whole story. From the beginning, since he remembers all of it. Take off your shoes - if you track mud through my house I’ll make you regret it.” You called over your shoulder, tapping off your boots on the porch then heading through the door. Once inside, you kicked them off and headed towards your bedroom to get changed. When you returned, the Baron was standing in your kitchen making tea while Barnes and Sam took up every inch of space on the small sofa. You claimed your armchair after scooting it at least a foot out of Bucky’s reach.

“Well, go ahead, James. Tell them my sordid tale. Or, at least, the parts you conveniently left out.” You encouraged him, accepting the tea that Zemo offered you with a soft ‘Danke’. He nodded, returning shortly after with a tray of tea and water for himself and the others. When he sat in the other armchair no more than a foot or two away from you, you didn’t scoot away, simply looked him up and down quickly as if assessing a threat. His demure smile did little to soothe you, but you weren’t scared of him in this situation - he was much more terrifying when he had the time and space to plan your demise.

“Stroud was eight when… when I was sent to kidnap her. She spent her summers and school breaks in Sokovia, but grew up in Canada, chosen because she had no genetic deficiencies or hereditary health issues. She was on vacation with her parents visiting her family in Sokovia when they sent me. I… I took her to the lab just outside of Prague, and HYDRA left me there for a couple of months while she settled in. They unfroze me up a couple times through the years to… to test her.” Bucky explained, watching Sam and Zemo’s faces to see their reactions.

“Your family is Sokovian?” The Baron asked, and you shrugged your shoulders but nodded.

“My father, and my mother’s maternal side. They were in Novigrad.” You explained, and he gave you a sympathetic nod, “Tell them the rest, James. I don’t believe the news will make my Baron want to kill me any more, now that he knows I’m one of his citizens.”

It was said teasingly, but from the way Zemo shifted in his seat and pursed his lips, you didn’t think you were far off. You could understand - he had lost his homeland, and you were a relic of that, using it against him to protect yourself shamelessly.

“The scientists chose her because… they liked her genetics. She didn’t have any concerning genes, hereditary health conditions, and none of her family suffered from any obvious addictions…” Bucky took a deep, steadying breath before continuing, “This was important to them because… because they wanted to… they theorised that breeding two super soldiers might create a stronger variant.”

Silence reigned, while you sipped your tea patiently, letting the men absorb that painful and disgusting truth. Sam got up from the sofa, clearly needing to pace, his hands resting on his hips as he thought it over. Bucky seemed to sink into the sofa on the other hand, as if he could hide from this somehow. Zemo rubbed his hand over his mouth, lost in thought, but it seemed that the most active of them all found his voice first.

“So they made you kidnap a child so they could turn her into your… what, baby mama?” Sam asked, his sneering face matching yours. He wasn’t mad at Bucky, obviously, but the entire concept of this was entirely antithetical to his worldview and moral structure.

“Does that seem so far out of the realm of possibility for the psychotic eugenic-freak nazis, Falcon?” You asked, and he shuddered visibly, “I wasn’t trained the same way as the Widows, or the other Soldiers. I didn’t need to be. I was just a broodmare, and the Winter Soldier was to be my eighteenth birthday present. Shame they didn’t put a bow on him.”

Zemo squeezed his eyes closed in your periphery, his jaw clenched tightly, and you took pity on the men who were clearly struggling with this reveal. Sam’s fury was evident, his whole being like an exposed nerve upon which his last remaining vestiges of control were barely a bandaid. The Baron, however, kept himself far more under wraps than the other two. There were signs, of course, to his discomfort, but he restrained himself in a way that Sam and Bucky both were incapable of.

“I’m still… God, pleasantly surprised sounds terrible, but it was a shock that they waited until you were eighteen. I… I still have nightmares about that day. And only partially because you tried to bite my throat out.” Bucky said, trying to sound playful on that last part despite the trauma you were all discussing. He didn’t quite achieve the tone he was trying to set, and you gave him a serious look, bordering on sympathy.

“Tried? James, I nearly got your jugular. You had to go into surgery immediately, that’s the only reason they stopped the whole thing.” You reminded him, and he shrugged, clearly thinking he deserved it, “Enough about me. Tell me what brings three of the four horsemen to my doorstep.”

Barnes huffed a breath through his nose at the reference, but Sam stepped in to show you the video from Torres and explain the Flagsmashers to you. You hummed along appropriately, considering his words as he described the truck fight to you, and explained who the hell John Walker was when he came up. When Sam was done, you turned your gaze to the man who’d kidnapped you so many years ago and narrowed your eyes, dubious rather than angry.

“You come to my home bringing death and destruction to my doorstep, Barnes. Why? You think you’re enough to bring me into the light? I have weathered much darker storms, Soldat. I have kept to myself while your so called Avengers ripped themselves and each other apart. Why do you think I will join you now to squash this little resistance? All that your friends have done is raise the bar for sinister minds. I am not like you, James, I never wanted this. I never wanted to be a soldier, or to save the world. I wanted to be a gardener. I had such… Lofty aspirations. As if my hands can do anything now but destroy.”

You stood as you finished your tirade, eerily calm as you walked towards the kitchen, giving the men space. For your safety and theirs. You placed a box of your favourite tea on the counter, examining your kitchen for anything you would want to bring with you if you decided to accept.

“The people who have this serum are dangerous, doll. We don’t know how many there are, what their plan is, and how bad things will get. I need backup. I need someone who can withstand a fight against them, or this might go south.” Barnes explained as best as he could, “You’re hiding here, barely living. I get it. But you deserve better. If you help us, we can back you up against whatever remnants of HYDRA are left if they come for you. You could live a better life.”

You scoffed, splaying your hands out on the countertop to brace yourself as you considered your choices.

In the end, you think it must’ve been inevitable. What else could you have done?

Music pounds in your ears as you walk through a crowd towards the bar, your arm delicately linked with that of the Baron. No one knew you here despite your brief stint while you were roaming the world aimlessly in an attempt at getting away from your past, and having you as backup that blended in rather than outwardly dressed as a soldier was the best choice, according to Zemo. You weren’t sure you’d be much help at all - after years in the quiet of the woods by yourself, the bar was overwhelming at best. But, Zemo had been confident when he presented you with a dress that you were certain despite knowing very little about dresses that must have cost a fortune, and told you your role. Tonight, you would be arm candy. It had taken ages to get yourself groomed enough to pass as anything but a wild woman, but you had to admit as you admired yourself in the mirror that you did clean up well.

Despite knowing he is more of a threat than he appears - evident in the bulge of his bicep against your arm if nothing else - the man is a comforting presence. His grip on your waist is possessively tight as he guides you in front of him at the bar, caging you in with his body. His nose bumps against your ear and you shiver as he whispers against it.

“What would you like to drink, schatz?”

“Whiskey, please, Baron.” You say back, louder than he had asked you, looking at the bartender through your lashes. He hums a response, greeting Sam and asking for his drink order while he pours a shot for Zemo. You watch over the rim of your glass as Sam struggles with his repulsive drink, distracted by the soft stroking of Zemo’s hand over your stomach, and his lips against your neck. Something about having constant, roving contact with him is making it easier to tune out every other overstimulating input in the bar. You wonder if he planned it this way, or if he’s simply putting on a show. You can feel Bucky glaring at him, but the Baron seems nonplussed by the Winter Soldier’s ire.

You aren't a huge fan of physical contact, but Zemo had quietly explained his plan to you on the plane ride to Madripoor, and cleared what he might have to do to enforce your role with you. It was far more than you expected from the man, but the consideration was worthwhile in making you trust him at least a little. You had a safe word, which had been a new concept to you that Zemo had surprisingly patiently explained while studiously ignoring the way that Barnes glared daggers at his back. You weren't entirely sure what James' problem was with Zemo and you specifically, but you were putting it down to either base male ego due to the fact that you were intended for him (a gross concept) or protective instinct (less gross, but unnecessary). Or both, perhaps. He was only human, after all.

The Sokovian had done a good job of pretending that Barnes didn't exist, focused entirely on you as he explained that he may have to touch you quite intimately, and likely would have to kiss you. Selby was a woman who delighted in the obscene at times, and had a taste for pretty things. She might demand a show of perversion to prove you weren't a spy while simultaneously getting her rocks off. You gave him permission to do what he had to do, and promised that after the events were over, you would check in with him privately. You had to admit, you were impressed by his genuine show of concern, and the amount of effort he was putting into establishing consent and trust with you.

Even now, he kept his body between yours and anyone else's in a way that protected your personal space but seemed possessive to the outward eye. A man approaches Zemo from behind, telling him that the message from above is that he isn't welcome, and you splay your hands across his stomach to brace him, staring up into his eyes to see if he needs you. He speaks to the man calmly, and you slip your hand under his shirt to trace along his ribs, your gaze moving between your date for the night and the man ‘interrupting’ it like you were simply an impatient girl. The man leaves, and you listen as Zemo explains the power broker, pausing briefly and switching to Russian as a hand clasps around his shoulder.

"Winter Soldier. Attack."

The man is swiftly removed, and you watch around Zemo's shoulder as Barnes goes on the attack, your arms slipping around the Baron's waist in a way that he clearly approves of from the rumble he lets out, and the hand that covers yours to hold you in place. He’s smirking as he watches the fight, and you scoff as he pushes another body at Bucky before making a snarky comment to Sam about how little it took for him to fall back into form. Like it wasn’t his fault. You roll your eyes, pressing closer to the Baron as if trying to watch the fight, and using that closeness to whisper in his ear,

“Try to enjoy this a little less, Baron. You’re being too obvious. S’a flimsy basis for the wedge you’re trying to drive.”

You feel him shiver against you, and his honey eyes find yours over his shoulder, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Apologies, häschen.”

Soon enough, the violence ends and you are brought back to meet Selby, letting the Baron guide you into his lap as if you belonged there. A large, warm hand closes around the meat of your thigh, just under the hem of your dress, and you watch Selby's eyes track the movement with a hunger that makes you squirm against the man beneath you. Barnes and Sam watch with disapproval on their faces, though they snap back into character swiftly enough it goes unnoticed. The Baron gives you two squeezes, and you settle, draping yourself back against his chest with your head on his shoulder, face tucked demurely into his neck.

"She's a pretty thing, isn't she? New pet, Zemo? Last I heard you were in a German lockup. How'd you get out, and how'd you get a sweet little thing like that so quickly?" Selby asks, and Zemo laughs.

"People like us will always find a way." He remarks, "As for this little häschen... she hopped her way to me when she found out I was free, like a good little girl."

Selby's gaze digs into you, and you lift your head from Zemo's shoulder to trail kisses along his jaw, murmuring a quiet 'Hel, baby, I'm bored.' against his skin. You say it just loud enough to be heard, and you can see Selby out of the corner of your eye, her eyes glued to your thighs as if staring hard enough would make them open. You pointedly ignore the stirring you feel beneath you, knowing he’s only a man and at that, a man who’d been imprisoned for eight long years. It probably has nothing to do with you. The conversation continues around you as Zemo offers Selby the Winter Soldier in exchange for information about the super soldier serum, and you do your job well despite having no experience to draw on beyond the seconds the Winter Soldier had his hands on you before you nearly tore his throat out with your teeth. The Baron shivers as you kiss along his jugular, stopping briefly mid-sentence to squeeze your thigh with one hand while the other grips your hair and pulls you back.

“Häschen, I am working. You will wait.” He reprimands you gently, nipping your lower lip when you pout dramatically. Liquid fire floods your veins, and you have to clench your thighs to temporarily quell the burn even though you know he’ll feel it and probably know why.

“Give the girl a bone, Baron, she’s clearly gagging for it.” Selby commands, and you know from her tone that you’ve ignited her. Zemo glances at Selby briefly before sliding his hand further up under your dress, his fingertips skimming across your cunt. He gives you a startled look when he realises you’ve forgone wearing underwear, but masks it quickly before Selby could notice. You’re mortified to find that you’re soaked, and he can definitely feel it. He knows. The little hitch in his breath at the realisation makes your cunt throb.

“I’ve been trying to teach her patience, Selby. You know how easily a brat is born without a firm hand.” He reminds her somewhat playfully, and Selby smirks as she watches him spread your legs a little. It’s embarrassing to know she can see you, and she is shameless about tilting her head to take a long look, but you knew it was a possibility and you didn’t blame him for it. You try for an eager look instead of nervous, but yelp as Zemo’s hand slaps your cunt with a loud and worryingly wet-sounding smack, “She will get what she wants when she earns it.”

Something in that makes you sigh, and Zemo lets out a soft breath of a laugh, catching your lips in a kiss that sends fire through your veins. Your first kiss, somehow at 32, and it’s all a bit of a game. At least it’s a good one, the Baron’s soft lips moving gently against yours, guiding you to respond to him as his hand cups your jaw. His thumb traces over your cheek, tongue slipping past your lips to taste you, and you try desperately to make it seem like you aren’t as inexperienced as you are.

“Now that you’ve had your fun-” Selby begins as you part, leaving a string of saliva connecting you, only to be interrupted by the buzzing of Sam’s cellphone. You close your eyes, biting your cheek to restrain any noise of frustration, then shift in Zemo’s lap as if nothing is wrong at all while you survey the room for all aggressors and exits.

“Answer it. On speaker.”

Sam does, and you listen with a roll of your eyes as the man has a conversation with his sister. Strong hands hold you as the tension in the room mounts, until Sarah says her brother’s name, and the jig is up. Fortunately, Selby is swiftly assassinated. Unfortunately, Selby is now dead, and it appears as if it is your fault. Walking the streets of Madripoor’s Lowtown knowing that a bounty is likely already set on your head with the dings of phones all around you as the soundtrack of your departure is, you find, a great way to raise your blood pressure.

As all hell breaks loose, Zemo drags you in the opposite direction as Sam and Bucky, and you let him despite the obvious warning signals. You’re touched by how protective he acts, tucking you behind him when someone gets into your path. He efficiently takes out a man with a handgun, pilfering it from his body and leading you through several alleyways until you meet up with Sam and Bucky just as their pursuers are executed.

“You seem to have a guardian angel.” Zemo remarks to the two men, and you hum, keen ears picking up the crunch of boots just as Sharon Carter rounds into the alley with you all.

“Well this is too perfect.” She chimes, gun pointed directly at the Baron instead of Sam or Bucky. Instinct flares, and you move before you can rethink your actions, one hand clasping around her wrist to remove the gun while the other jabs sharply into her elbows to buckle her arms and stop her from being able to immediately retaliate. You turn the gun on her, grip confident as you step out of her reach.

“Who the fuck are you?” She asks, sneering as you place yourself between her and Zemo. She shifts as if trying to get an angle on him, and you mirror her effortlessly, eyebrow raised as you wait for her next move.

“You do not need to know.” You reply, tuning out the world to listen to her heart pound.

“What are you, Zemo’s new guard dog?”

You smirk. The Baron’s gaze sits heavy between your shoulders, and you wonder at his expression. Barnes and Wilson’s are less difficult to imagine.

“Woof.”

Sam and Bucky intervene to explain the situation, and you take the gun from Zemo before the others can demand it, surprised that he lets you so easily. His eyes burrow into you, and you tilt your head nearly in time with him, both of you attempting to understand each other as in the background, Sharon offers you all a place to stay in Hightown. As the boys negotiate with Sharon for her cooperation, you duck into the bathroom to clean up, pulling up the skirt of your dress. There are bruises on your thighs already, your healing factor taking you through the process faster than any human body could. More worrying to you is how wet you are. It’s not as if you don’t understand what is happening - you have a lack of experience, not knowledge - and it’s not as if you’ve never touched yourself. Unfortunately, your night isn’t over, and the cause of your apparent arousal was waiting in the other room. You’d pointed a gun at the proprietor of the house for him less than an hour prior. The instinct to protect was strong in you - it always has been, and apparently, you wanted to protect Zemo. Why? Because he had been kind to you?

You breathe out a heavy sigh, cleaning yourself up liberally before you head back into the other room, and you catch Zemo’s eyes darkening as he looks upon you. At first, you’re uncertain why, until you see his gaze flicker down to your pelvis and you remember that he’s the only one in the room aware that you aren’t wearing underwear. You bite your lip, hoping perhaps that he’ll forget or misunderstand how wet you were. You think you might die if he brings it up.

“Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party. Try to stay out of trouble and I’ll see what I can find.” Sharon says as she heads upstairs, and Zemo smirks as he shrugs, one hand open palmed in faux innocence while the other grips his tumbler of whiskey.

“Trouble?”

You have to give it to Sharon, she definitely knows how to throw a party.

You move through the crowd as the beat pounds in your ears, dodging drunken party goers with a supernatural alacrity gifted to you by the serum. The blue neons cast a surprisingly attractive light across the crowd, and you watch with growing amusement as Sam flirts with a girl while pretending to examine a gorgeous Monet. Bucky tries to get you to stay close to him, but you dip under his arm and continue on your path to the bar, ignoring the way he calls after you. A shot glass is slid into your hand moments after you smell him approaching. Warm and musky and delicious, with traces of leather and old books lingering on the edges of your awareness.

“We should talk.” The Baron murmurs, and you nod despite wanting to run, turning to him to find yourself once more caged between his body and the bar. You take a breath, clenching your thighs again as he examines your expression like he’s dissecting you.

“When the night is over, as promised, we will talk.” You reply, taking the shot easily after clinking it against his glass. He raises his glass to you, then takes the shot as if it isn't even alcohol, keeping his eyes on you. In this light, they’re more chocolate than honey, but no less expressive. You wonder if he’s getting drunk - your tolerance is better than any human’s, and you’re not sure how much it takes someone who isn’t a super soldier to begin to feel it - since he’s now on his third or fourth drink at the very least tonight.

“My room or yours?” Zemo asks, and you consider it before offering him a faint shrug.

“Yours will do. I can’t promise Buck won’t be trying to break my door down for an unnecessary heart-to-heart.”

The Baron smirks, and you lean up to kiss his cheek as you slip past him, feeling him lean into it but not letting yourself dwell on it, “Have some fun, Zemo. I’ll come find you in a little bit. Be safe.”

“Tell me you’re seeing what I’m seeing.” Sam mutters to you, and you hum, looking away from the painting Bucky is showing you to follow the other man’s gaze. It doesn’t take long for either super soldier to spot what has caught his attention, and you stifle a laugh, pushing at Sam’s shoulder playfully. Bucky’s snort and subsequent coughing on his drink makes your laughter break through, and you end up gripping Sam’s shirt for stability as you try to get a hold of yourself.

“He’s a rich boy, Sam, I’m sure you’d look much the same if you tried your hand at a slow waltz.” You tease, drawing a chuckle from Barnes. He leans closer to you, hand sweeping over your lower back in what you’re sure is probably a platonic way, but still gives you the heebie-jeebies as he reminds you that you don’t need to defend the Baron. His lips are too close to your ear, and he’s looking at you too intensely for you to handle despite his playful smile. You turn your back to Zemo to look at both Bucky and Sam, stepping out of the former Winter Soldier’s reach.

“So, who’s gonna go save him from himself and show him how to actually dance? Any takers? Consider it charity work if it makes you feel better.” You grin at them, your tone playful despite how tense you are, and Sam snorts.

“How d’you know how to dance? You’re basically a homeschool kid on steroids.”

That draws a genuine laugh from you, and you shrug your shoulders as you begin backing towards the Baron, decision made.

“I spent years roaming Europe and at least a month clubbing here in Madripoor, Sam. I may not have experience in a lot of things, but dancing is definitely not one of them. You keep Buck here unmolested by the masses, and I’ll handle our Baron.” You tease.

“Yeah, you’ll handle him alright. Gross.” Sam retorts mostly under his breath, only audible to you due to your enhanced hearing. You’re laughing as you approach Zemo, and you boldly slide an arm around his waist from behind as you press yourself up against his back, grinning as he startles. He twists to face you, and his smile is more open - genuine - as he takes you in. You’re not sure if he’s just decided he likes you, or if he’s a little tipsy.

“You’ve never danced like this before, Baron.” You state plainly, and he laughs, almost bashful but not quite as he shrugs his broad shoulders.

“Perhaps not, but I am enjoying myself.” He retorts, letting you guide him until his hips are pressing into yours, winding with the music in a way that can’t possibly be anything but intimate. You’re not sure why it’s so easy for you to touch and be touched by Zemo, when Bucky laying a hand on you sends shivers down your spine, but you don’t want to think on that too heavily right now under the blue neon lights and the pulsing of the music. As the crowd closes in around you, you move with them, all the while guiding Zemo through it. He’s observant, and he learns quickly, watching the rest of the crowd move until finally he feels confident. You grin as he presses against your back, his arm looping around your waist slowly enough that you could escape it if you so desired. His chin brushes your shoulder, and you’re tempted to look at him to see what he’s looking at, but you get distracted by a man who had been approaching you until he froze a couple feet away. You tilt your head curiously as he turns around and walks the other way, but Zemo’s mouth brushes against the back of your neck, and you scoff as you put two and two together.

“Protective or possessive, Baron?” You ask him boldly, and he smiles against your skin as if he isn’t surprised by the question at all.

“Oh, I believe both should cover it, schatzi.” he replies, guiding you towards the bar with a gentle hand on your back, “You don’t like when people touch you, even if you like them well enough. You flinched when Sharon touched your arm to apologise for her presumed insult, you shy away from Sam even though you laugh and smile with him often, and I don’t think I need to begin to touch on your avoidance of Barnes. I appear to be exempt from that, however I didn’t think he would be. I apologise if I was presumptuous.”

You order a drink for the both of you, as well as a shot each, laughing to yourself despite being a little touched by his observance.

“No, you’re not sorry. You know you were presumptuous, you’re just banking on the fact that you’re right. And now, when I tell you you are, it will reinforce your behaviour in the future.” You inform him, letting him cage you against the bar for the third time this night, “Fortunately, I’m okay with your presumptuousness, in this circumstance.”

Zemo clinks his shot against yours, and you both take them together, laughing when you spot an incredulous Sam and a frustrated Bucky staring directly at you. His metal arm is tense, hand fisted, and you’re glad he isn’t holding on to anything because it would most certainly be crushed by now. You give them a cheeky wave, and have to bite back your snicker when Zemo, seemingly noticing their attention, pulls you tighter to him so he can press his smug little smirk into the curve of your neck.

“You’re going to get yourself attacked soon, you know?” You ask in a sing-song voice, and he chuckles against your skin, collecting his drink and letting you lead him through the rows of stolen artwork. He lets you take his hand and squeezes gently, keeping no more than a step behind you the whole way.

“I’m certain I can handle it.” He retorts, and you laugh for what feels like the thousandth time tonight. You can’t remember the last time you laughed so much. You can’t remember the last time your life felt so full.

“Man, you really are trouble, aren’t you Baron?”

‘Interogating’ Nagel is a complete shitshow. You don’t blame Zemo for what he did, despite Sam and Bucky’s endless irritation. Nagel was smart enough to recreate and refine the super soldier serum, and he had to be stopped. He worked for HYDRA. You hadn’t had the chance to ask, but you were sure he easily could’ve been involved in the project that created you. He was the type who would never stop, no matter what got in his way - this was his life’s work. He was the type who would keep recreating it and refining it until he made even worse monsters than he already had.

You were just thankful that Zemo dragged you out with him before the second explosion, even if you would’ve been fine with the others. You didn’t have a gun, and a firefight would have been less than ideal, though you knew you could handle it. The Baron takes down several men while wearing a purple mask before you could even try to help him, and you roll your eyes as you follow him through the rows of shipping containers until he finds a car that makes his eyes light up. You can’t help a fond smile as he helps you into the passenger seat as if you need it, and you kick your feet up onto the dash. He offers you a surprisingly boyish grin, and you don’t feel any inclination to move away when his gloved hand closes around your thigh through your jeans, giving you a gentle squeeze that sears through you. You close your hand around his, and his gaze burns through you as he starts to drive, only looking away when he absolutely has to.

You’re going to die if he doesn’t tuck that stupid lock of hair out of his face.

Following the trail to Karli Morgenthau to Riga was simple with the use of Zemo’s jet, but you didn’t know the trials and tribulations that awaited you when you made it to his home in Latvia. While Bucky went on a walk to be sneaky, the Baron gave you and Sam a tour of his house, which you were kind of in love with. The style of the house was stunning, and you found yourself looking around excitedly for the next subtle detail that would catch your eye. Sam was quick to agree when Zemo offered you one of the three bedrooms to stay in by yourself, claiming the master as expected, and leaving the third to Sam and James. Then, he told you you could wear any clothing you found, that the second bathroom had a shower if you needed it, and departed into the master to clean up.

Sam gave you the honour first, and you tried to be efficient with your time, turning the water up just on the right side of too hot while you scrubbed yourself down. Once you were done, you dressed in a large purple dress shirt paired with a stolen pair of boxers that covered up enough of your thighs to be decent.

Now, sitting in the living room watching Zemo in his navy silk robe as he moved confidently around the kitchen, you wish you would’ve chosen anything else. When he first saw you, his eyes had burned into you. Now, you had three pairs of eyes on you for very different reasons, and you wanted to punch someone in the mouth. Sam’s gaze is a bit disdainful, since he detests Zemo and finds it incredibly uncomfortable that you don’t. Zemo looks equal parts smug and starving, which you wouldn’t mind so much if it weren’t for James glaring between the two of you like you’d both insulted him. His glare was softer on you, sure, but it was still uncomfortable when he had no right to be upset with you for wearing clean clothes. It wasn’t your fault that they’d rushed you out of your house when you agreed to help, and you’d only packed a couple of outfits.

As the boys discuss Karli, you find yourself lost in thought. What was your endgame, here? The Flagsmashers had attacked the GRC (who could all get fucked if you were being honest) instead of simply stealing from them, blowing up a building with several people still inside. There was a death toll now. That changed things. You could sympathise with Morgenthau, but you weren’t at all comfortable with her possession of the super soldier serum - both the vials of it, and that which ran through her and her companions' veins. At this point, she seemed to be escalating, and there was nothing worse than the escalation of a being with unnatural abilities. Power corrupts, and it was beginning to corrupt her if it hadn’t already warped her mind.

The Baron rants about the serum, and Karli, and you sigh as you hop up onto the counter. Sam wants to save Karli, you know it, and you’re sad for him. You know she won’t give up, no matter the cost. Nothing could outweigh her aspirations at this point. Hopefully, speaking to her at Danya’s funeral would help, but you were aware it was equally as likely to feed Karli’s anger as it was her compassion. Your eyes track the turkish delight that Zemo tosses to Sam and you have to restrain a grin at the way he says ‘Titi’.

“Zemo is right. Karli is dangerous. It’s worth trying to speak to her to see if she can be reasoned with, but you can’t hold out too much hope, Sam. It’ll break your heart when she fails you. And she will.”

Zemo gestures to you in agreement, and you hum as he plucks a turkish delight from the dish, reaching for it. To Sam and Bucky’s disgust, he unwraps it for you, and you open your mouth obediently for it even though you might’ve normally protested. Bugging Sam and James was beginning to become a sport.

“Come on, man.” Sam grumbles under his breath as you lick the sugar from the Baron’s fingertips, and you flip him off blindly, grinning around the sweet treat. Zemo’s eyes are all molten chocolate as he watches you chew.

“Okay, you know what? I’m starving. I’m getting food. Buck, c’mon. If she wants to spend her time with the Baron, we might as well let her keep an eye on him, and get ourselves some time without him.” Sam remarks, slapping Bucky’s arm, and the two depart while you shout over your shoulder for them to bring dinner home for you. Once they’re gone, Zemo raises an eyebrow at you.

“We didn’t get to talk.” He reminds you, and you nod, “I would like to. Have I made you uncomfortable?”

You shake your head, and he examines your expression for honesty before continuing, “I hoped Selby wouldn’t take an interest in you. I apologise for… groping you the way I did. I hope I did not cause you undue discomfort. Thank you, for disarming Miss Carter when she pointed the gun at me in Madripoor.”

Shrugging, you lean towards him a little, trying to read his face despite feeling as if you know what he wants.

“Her interest made her ask fewer questions. You don’t have to apologise for touching me - you asked permission before the mission, and I enjoyed it, as I’m sure you’re aware. I know that Sam and Barnes don’t trust you, but I trust what I know of you - you’ve gone out of your way to establish consent with me when you didn’t have to, you’ve protected me despite the serum that pumps through my veins, and I know you want to put an end to the Flagsmashers if only because they chose their fate. I don’t agree with everything you’ve done, Zemo, but I… I like who you are, and I can understand your choices even if I don’t approve of them.” You explain, rolling your lip over your teeth, and he moves a little closer to you.

“Helmut.” He murmurs, and you smile, watching as he drops a hand to your knee to see if you’ll protest, “I would like it if you would call me Helmut.”

“Not Hel?” You ask playfully, grinning as his grip tightens, pulling you to the edge of the counter as he steps between your legs.

“If you want to feel the softness of my bed while I reclaim my stolen clothes, by all means.” Zemo replies, and your pupils dilate as you consider the possibilities. The consequences. He’s so close, and you clench your knees around his hips, drawing a soft gasp from his lips. You swallow it, cupping his cheeks in your hands as your lips press against his. It takes very little effort for Zemo to lift you into his arms, and he carries you to the master bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him so he can drop you on his bed in privacy. He wouldn’t put it past Barnes or Sam to interrupt them on purpose.

“You weren’t kidding - this is way softer than the bed you gave me, Hel.” You tease, and he chuckles as he crawls over you, pressing you back into the sheets. He doesn’t hover over you like you might’ve thought he would. Instead, he lays mostly on top of you, hips against yours, and you feel smothered by him in the best way possible. He kisses you softly at first, but his passion grows as you respond fiercely, your hands gliding through his hair to get a good grip.

“Have you done this before, liebling?” He asks quietly, hushed with the intimacy of the closeness between you. You shake your head, locking your legs around his hips as you comb your fingers through his hair.

“When I was… before I escaped, they made the Winter Soldier pin me to my bed and… he was about to put it inside, so I leaned up and bit his neck as hard as I could. Since then, I haven’t had much desire. I danced a lot at clubs around Europe and in Madripoor when I was running from HYDRA before I found my cabin, to get used to people, but I never… I never indulged. You were my first kiss.” You admit, curling his hair around your fingers, and you can see the way his pupils dilate at that. He captures your lips again, and you feel the rumble of his moan against you, bringing a smile to your lips.

“Do you have a purity kink, Helmut?” You ask with a giggle, and he nips at your collarbone, grinding his hips into you.

“Perhaps. I hadn’t thought of it before,” He admits breathlessly, pausing to suck a dark mark into your neck, “I like the idea of being the only man to have you.”

Warm hands slowly unbutton the shirt you’re wearing, and you lay your head back with a gasp as your Baron’s lips trail kisses down over every inch of exposed skin. He smirks against your sternum, murmuring sweetness in Sokovian that has you sighing and tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I understand you, you know?” You whisper, and he blinks up at you as you’ve cut him off in the middle of waxing poetic about the size and shape of your breasts. He raises an eyebrow, tweaking your nipple between his fingers and biting down gently on the curve of your breast.

“I know, liebling. I can feel you tremble as you burn for me.”

You grab at his robe in retaliation, shoving it down over his shoulders insistently while he simultaneously tries to get his stolen boxers off of you. It doesn’t go very well for either of you, so he sits back out of reach to take off his robe for you, leaving himself in only a pair of boxers similar to the ones you’re wearing. Your fingertips rake through his chest hair as he crawls over you, and he sighs at the feeling, pulling your legs around him. In one easy movement, he pulls you up into his lap, one hand holding your lower back while the other strips his shirt from you. He kisses you slowly, sliding his hands into your boxers to grasp at your ass, squeezing as he pushes your hips together so you can feel how much he wants you.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” Zemo whispers against your lips, forcing himself to part from you despite how much he’d rather not. He kisses along your neck as he waits for you to answer, thumbs stroking over your nipples as he grinds against you.

“I’m inexperienced, Hel, I’m not dead.” You retort with a laugh, gripping his hair, “You feel bigger than the toys I’ve used though.”

That draws a hum from your Baron, and he lays you back on the bed, hooking his fingers in your boxers so he can drag them down your legs to toss them behind him. You look down at the tent in his boxers, wetting your lips and slowly spreading your legs for him, letting him take a good long look at what he has done to you. A low groan slips from his lips and he skims his hands up your thighs to soothe the tremble in them.

“I won’t hurt you, schatz.” He reminds you, gentle but serious, and you nod to say you know and understand. You glance at his boxers again, and he follows your gaze, quickly realising what you want. You watch as he shuffles out of the tight fabric, tossing it off the side of the bed and giving you a chance to stare at him. You’ve seen a cock before from a distance, but your only other close-up experience hadn’t put you in a position to see anything and while the Winter Soldier was being taken away by medical staff, you were unable to see anything, too busy with the taste of blood and flesh in your mouth. It didn’t help that one of the scientists took it upon himself to backhand you as punishment for your act of self-defence, sending you reeling.

Helmut Zemo is a gifted man. You can’t help but stare as he gives his cock a couple slow strokes to ease his discomfort, thumb stroking over the head to collect his precum to ease the glide. He’s bigger than you expected, thick enough that you aren’t sure how he’s going to fit, and long enough that you know he’s going to bump against your cervix with every thrust. You swallow hard, mentally trying to compare his cock to the toys you’ve used in the past, and trembling as you realise he’s easily twice as thick.

Sensing your panic, Zemo crawls onto the bed with you, covering you with his body again as he presses kisses to your lips. Your legs wrap almost instinctively around his waist, but he doesn’t try to take advantage of the position, focusing on intimacy instead of quick pleasures.

“Relax, liebling. I’m right here. I have you.” he murmurs as he nuzzles against your cheek, and you let out a breathy sigh, clutching at his back. He strokes his hands up and down over your sides until you relax under his touch, then begins a slow trail of kisses down your chest and stomach. You sigh as you realise what he’s doing, and your head falls back against the pillows before his lips even manage to make contact with the wet, aching heat of your cunt. His hands close around your thighs from below, pushing them up and apart as he plants a kiss against you, then swipes the flat of his tongue up through your cunt all the way up to flick across your clit. You shudder, and he holds you a little tighter, delving in with soft licks and sucking kisses that have you grabbing at the sheets beneath you.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you whimper his name as he swirls his tongue around your clit then sucks it into his mouth, his eyes dark as night as he stares up at you to watch your face. Every move is calculated, running off of your reactions and looking to draw out more, desperate to feel you fall apart for him. It isn’t until his fingers gently prod at your entrance that you feel anything but pleasure. A small spike of fear, soothed by a gentle kiss to your tummy that feels unexpectedly sweet.

One finger, and then a second fill you, but you feel no pain. It’s about the same girth as the toy you’ve used, but no toy has ever been able to stroke across that spot inside of you with such surgical precision. His lips close around your clit, and you let out a cry as the dual sensations overwhelm you, trying your damnedest not to yank on his hair though you’re sure you fail since he grunts against you. There is nothing urgent or rushed about this - this is a slow, methodical dismantling of every rational thought, every worry, every fear you’ve ever had. This is a reconstruction on a spiritual level, replacing worries with pleasure, and fears with happiness, and thoughts with need.

You realise as you have the thought to tell Zemo how good he’s making you feel that there’s certainly no question about it. You didn’t even notice how much noise you were making, the soft whines and moans falling from your lips completely unrestrained, and it’s as if you zone back into your surroundings only to have them wiped away. A crook of your Baron’s fingers and a particularly hard suck on your clit have you tossing your head back against the pillows and shouting his name, “Baron!” and “Helmut!” in equal measure.

You return to yourself again to find yourself cradled in your Baron’s arms, his nose nuzzling gently against your cheekbone as he strokes your back, your thighs clenched around his hips as he presses you bodily into the mattress. You blink, and he smiles at the sight of you, dipping down for a gentle kiss that makes you tremble.

“Oh.” You whisper, and he laughs softly.

“Are you okay, schatz? Do you need a minute?” Helmut asks. You shake your head urgently, tangling your fingers in his hair so you can pull him into a kiss that has him moaning into your mouth. You chase the taste of yourself, tongue sliding across his, then part with a gasp.

“I need you.” You whisper, and he groans against your lips, grinding his hips into yours.

“You have me.” He promises, pushing himself up a little so he can take himself in hand and press the head of his cock against your desperate cunt.

“Now, Hel. Don’t make me wait.”

His groan reverberates through you as he pushes inside, inch by inch, carving his way through your insides. By the time he bottoms out, you’re panting for breath, clinging to his back as he presses his chest to yours. The closeness soothes you, and keeps you from digging in your nails.

“Fuck.” You moan, and he groans in response, nodding against your shoulder.

“You’re so tight, schatz, you’re strangling my cock.” He murmurs without a hint of complaint in his tone. You don’t think you’ll ever be ready when he finally starts to pull out, but his next thrust drives the breath from your lungs, and you sob, tears in your eyes from the pleasure. He kisses them away so gently that you nearly want to cry again, whispering to you about how beautiful you are, how perfect you feel around him, and how desperately he needs you to be his.

“I am!” You proclaim, and he groans his approval, catching your lips in a kiss that sends fire racing through your veins. His pace has been brutally slow so far, but he begins to move faster now, each thrust driving him in to the hilt. It feels like punishment. It feels like atoning. It feels like rebirth. It feels like a new beginning without the fear that’s kept you trapped in the woods all by yourself for so many years you felt like giving up. Blunt teeth clamp around your neck and you shudder, tilting your head back to bare more of it to him.

“Mine.” He mutters around your skin, and you nod frantically.

“Yours. And you’re mine, Helmut. My Baron. I won’t give you back.” You insist, and his laugh is broken by a groan. By the time he releases his hold on you, you’ve got a fresh bruise darkening on your throat.

“You may have to, schatz. Your friends don’t want me out of prison.” He reminds you softly even as he shatters you into pieces, each thrust breaking you apart and putting you back together again. You clutch him tighter to you like somehow, in the shattering and reassembling, he can become part of you. Pressure builds inside of you until you feel fit to explode.

“F-Fuck them.” You growl, and he reaches between you to stroke your clit, gritting his teeth. He groans - nearly growls - as he comes, filling you to the brim and fucking it in deeper with his next couple of thrusts. The heat sends you reeling, and you choke on a gasp as your orgasm breaks across you like a tsunami, washing you clean.

Laying together, panting for breath under your Baron’s sturdy weight, you realise the choice you’ve made for yourself. He’s gentle as he pulls out of you, stroking your legs to make sure you aren’t too stiff, and reaching for his towel to clean you up.

“Perhaps, showering after this might have been a wiser choice.” He murmurs, and you shake your head.

“No, clean was nice, I would’ve been self conscious otherwise. This was perfect. I’ll shower again if I have to.”

That draws a soft laugh from Zemo’s lips, and he curls around you, nuzzling his face into your neck, “Do you need anything from me?”

You contemplate his question for a moment, then hum softly to yourself, nodding.

“Just hold me a little longer. I promise I’ll get up soon.”

Helmut rolls his eyes, pressing kisses along the line of your shoulder as he strokes his hands down over your body.

“You’re in no rush, liebling. We have time.”

You sigh, because you know that you really don’t.

You’re reminded that Baron Helmut Zemo had a child before you as well as a wife when he interacts with the children in Riga. You overhear him speaking to them, and acknowledge them with a nod when he gestures to you and tells them you’re safe too. You know this will likely come back to bite you, but you let Zemo play his games. He’s got a plan, clearly, and you’re happy enough to go along with it. At least someone has one.

Ever since Sam and Bucky got back to the house, they’ve been giving you odd looks, and you can see the judgement in their eyes. You aren’t quite sure if they think you’re too stupid to know yourself and have just been wrapped up in Zemo’s sugary lies, or if they think you’ve switched sides somehow, but either way it’s beginning to get on your nerves. You aren’t a child, and you’re not stupid. You know when someone is lying to you, and you don’t sense mistruths or even manipulation from your Baron.

As Zemo leads you back into the house with Bucky and Sam, the argument starts up again. Sam believes in Karli’s goodness, while Bucky is being more practical. You roll your eyes as you sit beside Sam, and Zemo admits that he knows where the funeral for Donya will be.

“Keep talking.” Bucky snaps, and you breath out a heavy sigh. Like that’ll ever happen.

“Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli. Hmm. I prefer to keep my leverage.” Zemo replies simply. You watch as Bucky stands, grabbing Zemo’s glass and tossing it at the wall.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” He asks, and you plant your feet loudly, startling both men.

“Simmer down before I fucking make you.” You snap, while Sam gets up to stop Bucky.

“Take it easy. Don’t engage him. He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing.” The leveller head says, drawing a snort from you, “Let me make a call.”

You roll your eyes, holding your hand out for a cup.

“You need to stop antagonising them. I don’t want to have to hurt them, Helmut.”

The arrival of John Walker throws a wrench in things. The new Captain America with everything to prove is not a stable resource, and you want nothing to do with him. As he approaches, all ramped up to 11 like it's his new state of being, you put yourself between him and Zemo.

“This better be an unbelievable explanation-”

“Hey, take it easy before it gets weird.” Sam insists, his gaze flicking to you, and you tilt your head innocently as if you’ve no idea what he means.

“I know where Karli is.” Zemo explains, beginning to move past Walker. John puts a hand on Zemo’s chest, and you grab it before it can make contact, holding onto him tightly.

“Well whe-”

“Awww, ain’t this romantic?” You ask teasingly, giving him a gentle shove out of Zemo’s way. He scowls at you, and you let him go to slip by with your Baron.

“All we know is, it’s a memorial.” Sam continues behind you, and you ignore the argument as Walker tries to ‘reason’ with Sam. Thank God for Lemar, as he seems to be the only thing keeping Walker in line.

“We’ll deal with you later.” Walker states firmly, pointing first to Zemo, and then you.

“I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion. My associate is just up ahead.” Zemo replies, and you walk with him towards the little girl he’d been speaking to about Donya’s funeral. She leads you into a building, and you growl as Walker pushes Zemo, handcuffing him to a metal furnace door. Bucky hooks his arms under your armpits to stop you from fighting back, and you kick your legs out to smack against Walker’s stupid shield, running up his back and flipping over Barnes. He fights to get ahold of you, throwing you to the ground finally when you keep getting loose.

“Hey, you’ve got ten minutes-” Walker shouts after Sam.

“Really?” Zemo asks as he tests his handcuffs. His gaze finds you, checking you’re alright before looking back at John Walker.

“-then we’re going things my way.” The new Captain America finishes, making you roll your eyes.

“Aggressive.” Helmut comments, and you snort, “but I get it.”

You eye the handcuffs, but Zemo shakes his head, and you sigh.

“So, who the fuck is this?” John asks, and Bucky shakes his head.

“She’s none of your fucking business, Walker. Don’t look at her.”

Lemar and John both put their hands up, brows raised as they examine you, and you lean against the furnace door next to your Baron to keep an eye on the situation. Walker is clearly falling apart, staring at his shield like a psychopath, and you catch Lemar looking at you. You raise an eyebrow, then look at Walker and nod towards him. He follows your gaze, but doesn’t say anything.

“Uh-uh. No, no, no, this is a bad idea.” Walker starts, and you let Barnes field this one, knowing it won’t end well. You step closer to Zemo, watching the clearly unstable man with wariness in your eyes. You don’t want to have anything to do with him if you can avoid it. He goes after Sam, Lemar and Bucky at his back, and you rush to follow after giving Zemo a pointed look to take care of himself.

“You’re going to ruin it, Walker, give Sam a fucking chance. It’s like you want blood, you fucking maniac. What kind of Captain America doesn’t believe in peaceful conversation to avoid violence!?”

Your words fall on deaf ears, and you watch Karli run, Bucky close on her heels. You bolt off into the maze of the building, looking for where Karli could have gone, only to jump at a gunshot. You run in that direction, gunshots ringing in your ears, and you pray Zemo’s okay. You enter the room just moments after a shield collides with Zemo’s head, blue liquid and glass sprayed across the floor, and Karli nowhere to be found. You growl so deeply your chest feels like it’s about to come apart, and you’re across the room before you even know it.

“WALKER!”

Your fist nearly meets Walker’s spine, but Bucky grabs it, wrenching you back.

“NO! He could’ve killed him! You’re no Captain America, you fucking monster, I’ll tear you to pieces! Let me at him, Buck, I could kill him right here and solve all your problems. I’m already on the run, what’s one more stain on my name? Let me hurt him, please, come on, let me hurt him!” You shout, worming in Barnes’ grasp, but he’s stronger than you. All you’ve got on him is speed.

“Control your rabid dog.” Walker snaps, and you scream with frustration. Barnes drags you a few feet away, holding you tightly to him while you rage. Walker and Lemar leave, and only then does he let go of you, letting you sink to lift Zemo into your arms. You stand easily with his weight, your face permanently etched into a sneer as you stalk past Sam towards your Baron’s home. Sam follows you, watching as you lay Zemo down on the couch and get a cold towel for his head. When he wakes with a groan of pain, you bring him a drink, covering his eyes before he can open them.

“Are you okay?” He asks you, and you sigh.

“Barnes held me back. I was gonna break his spine.”

“Jesus Christ, kid, what the hell?” Sam asks, and you roll your eyes.

“He deserves worse. He’s a loose fucking cannon and you know it. The title is too much for him - it’s making him insane.” You spit as you stalk out of the room, “I need to wash up. If Walker shows him, tell him I’m going to rip his spine out and strangle him with it.”

Zemo laughs, but Sam scoffs, slamming down into an armchair with a muttered curse about excessive violence.

“Shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

“I didn’t give him the shield.”

“Well, Steve definitely didn’t.” You hear the tail end of Sam and Bucky’s argument as you exit the bathroom, tossing your bag down as the door slams open from Walker’s kick.

“Alright, that’s it, let’s go. I’m now ordering you to turn him over.” Walker orders as he stalks in with Lemar at his back.

“Hey, now, slow your roll. Shield or no shield, the only thing you’re running in here is your mouth.” Sam retorts calmly, “Now, I had Karli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today, and we’ll need all hands on deck for whatever’s coming next.”

“How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, Sam, huh?” John asks, and you roll your eyes, moving forwards as Zemo circles the room towards you, “Should I put down the shield? Make it fair?”

You snort as he does just that, cracking your knuckles, only to be interrupted by the timely arrival of the Dora Milaje. Your shoulders relax, and Zemo gives you a quizzical look, but you don’t respond. They might be coming for Zemo, but Walker won’t be able to help himself. He’ll step right into their way, and get his ass kicked. You watch as exactly as predicted, Walker gets himself an asskicking, and you watch with a smile as you share a drink with your Baron. You’re not even slightly surprised when he grabs your hand and drags you into the bathroom behind him, closing and locking the door once you’ve grabbed your bag.

Together, you flee into the sewers, your hand gripping his as you race towards freedom. No matter how much you wanted to kick Walker’s ass, you know that the Dora Milaje will be able to do a better, and more demoralising job. And that’s what you’d prefer, honestly. You want John Walker broken down to his core as he realises that he never deserved the title of Captain America. Truthfully, he was just a placeholder while Sam figured his shit out.

The message you send to Barnes is simple.

‘If you take him from me, I will hunt you down to the ends of the Earth. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, James Buchanan Barnes.’

You discard the burner phone on a table outside of a cafe, running to catch up with Zemo where he waits in a nearby alley.

“They’ll come for me.” Helmut murmurs as he rubs his soapy hands across your stomach, up to cup your breasts, “I can only escape for so long.”

You snort, leaning back into his arms while your massage shampoo into his hair for him.

“They’ll certainly try. There are plenty of places we can hide.” You insist, sighing happily as he nuzzles against your neck. You dip under the running water to rinse yourself off, stealing a kiss from your Baron once the water runs clear. He swaps places with you and you run your hands over him slowly to rinse the soap away. Once the bubbles have been washed away, he presses you into the wall of the shower, and you gasp as he angles himself.

“Okay?” He asks, breathless, and you nod eagerly, spreading your legs a little wider. He pushes inside of you with a sigh, and you grasp at the tiles, eyes rolling back in your head.

“God, you feel so good around me, liebling. I did not… I did not expect this. I did not expect you.” He murmurs, grabbing your hips and rocking into you.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me.” You whisper, letting him pull you back against him so he can steal a kiss, “I won’t lose you, Helmut. I won’t. If they come for you, I’ll destroy them.”

He sighs, holding you tighter, pressing soothing kisses to your neck, “You cannot, schatz. Do not sacrifice yourself for me.”

His next thrust makes you cry out, and he slips a hand between your thighs to stroke across your clit, driving you closer to the edge. It’s been barely any time at all, but you’ve been pent up with emotions, from aborted fights to nearly losing him. He holds you together as you tip over the edge in his arms, his thrusts quickening before you’ve even caught your breath. He strokes your clit firmly, and you find yourself caught in the drag of the tide, unexpectedly rising to your crest again so quickly you find yourself shaking in his arms.

“I can’t!” You gasp, and he chuckles against your neck.

“You can, and you will. Come for me, schatz. Let your Baron make you feel good.”

You claw at the tiles, pinned between the cold of them and the heat of his chest against your back, and your legs shake as he sends you spiralling over the edge into your end, shouting his name into the steam. He grunts against your neck, biting into your shoulder as he buries himself balls deep inside of you to fill you up. Gentle but strong hands clean you up, then guide you out of the shower and into a warm, plush robe. Your Baron guides you into the bedroom, and then into the bed, crawling in behind you to curl up around your back.

“Sleep, liebling. A nap will make things seem clearer when we wake.”

Together with Zemo, you decide to take your time together to hunt down the HYDRA lab you’d been kept in, and the scientists who may have worked there and escaped their due. Finding the lab was simple enough considering you’d escaped it fourteen years ago on foot. It wasn’t in any of HYDRA’s released records, which worries you. How many more facilities do they have hiding? Zemo watches with a smile on his face as you wrench open the door, breaking its seal as if the metal were molten. Not four steps in, you find the bloody bullet buried in the wall that took Imogen’s life, and you hear her screaming in your head for you to keep running as the blood drained rapidly from her body. There’s a stain on the floor, and it taunts you, outlining part of the shape of a body. You find her tucked into a security office only a few doors down, and Zemo has to lead you away, reading the security logs to discover what happened. Normally, she would have been discarded.

According to the logs, after you broke out, they went into a catastrophic failure, and the entire lab was purged with the loss of their only test subject. They didn’t think you’d make your way back to the lab so nothing was actually removed aside from personnel, but they didn’t need the facility so they closed it down and sealed it in case they needed it at a later date. You hunt through their files with your Baron, comparing them to the records of HYDRA operatives who’ve been found, until you find only one name that hasn’t been tagged.

Vanya Nikitin, one of the lead scientists behind your project. You remember him. He’s the one who hit you after you wounded their precious Winter Soldier. You stare at his picture, chest heaving as you find yourself lost in memories. How he used to touch your face and chest when you were strapped down and losing consciousness. How he stroked your stomach before he unleashed the Winter Soldier on you. How he promised you’d birth an army for them.

“Schatz.”

You jerk out of your spiral and glance at Helmut, letting him guide you over to look at the documents he’s digging through. He gestures to a paper and you muddle your way through it, your Russian rusty at best.

Fertility rates… show remarkable increase.

Your Baron’s hand strokes up and down your spine soothingly, and you crumple the page in your hand, “I can take the morning after pill.”

“You could.” Helmut agreed, sliding his arms around your waist, soothing you with his heat against your back, “For once, liebling, the choice is yours. I am happy to let you make this decision - I will support you if you want a child, and I will support you if you do not. You can have whatever you want.”

You nod, resting against him for a moment and letting yourself breathe. Something about being here with him is soothing. Like you’ve reclaimed the space from such evil, and it is once more just a simple laboratory instead of a place in which you were tormented.

“I can, can’t I? I mean, who the fuck is gonna stop me?”

Helmut smiles against your skin, and you only break away from him a few moments later to begin packing up the documents. Your phone dings, and you pull it out, looking at the screen with a raised eyebrow. You don’t know how the fuck you have reception in here, but it appears you do. The message makes you smile, and you show Helmut, stealing a kiss from him with happiness bubbling in your gut like champagne.

You’re emptying out a filing cabinet when you stumble across gold, pulling out Nikitin’s file and tossing it down on the desk in front of you, open to his personal information.

“Hey, Helmut, how do you feel about hunting for squid?”

“Whatever you like, schatz. I will give you whatever you like.”

“Breaking news. We’ve got a report from the Czech Republic - Two dead and thankfully none injured after an explosion at what appears to be a former HYDRA facility. Captain America Sam Wilson expresses his profound regret at the loss of Baron Helmut Zemo, former Sokovian royalty and the man who once tried to bring the Avengers to ruin. According to Wilson, the other deceased was a woman named Y/N Y/L/N, a victim of a HYDRA plot to create an army of super soldiers by way of forced impregnation of two victims of the super soldier serum. It appears that the two were attempting to destroy the facility in which she had been forcefully confined from the age of eight after she was kidnapped, and were caught when the detonation went off early.

James Buchanan Barnes and Sam Wilson will be holding a vigil for HYDRA victims in Y/L/N’s honour tonight outside of City Hall. A second vigil will be held at the Sokovian Memorial in three days time in honour of the late Baron and his family, to honour all the Sokovian lives lost, and those who no longer have a home.”

#baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo

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supercalifragipopculturevomit · 9 months

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THE BEST OF DANIEL BRÜHL

It’s dumb, honestly.

You get this seemingly brilliant idea of turning to foreign films so you’re forced to read subtitles and focus—a problem you’ve been noticing of late—but in doing so, you end up with a more destructive distraction.

“Who’s that guy, again? The one in all those international productions?” That’s how I found myself on my Daniel Brühl marathon-turned-obsession.

It was his role as the cute Nazi in Inglorious Basterds that first put him on my radar. Over the years, I would see him in The Fifth Estate, Burnt, Woman in Gold, The Zookeeper’s Wife, and The King’s Man. Midway through All Quiet on the Western Front, I was like, “All this needs is that German actor…” and I had to chuckle when he later appeared on screen. I also checked out the first season of The Alienist because I was intrigued by what he and Dakota Fanning as leads would do with such a spooky-looking show.

Adorable as he was in his breakout role in Good Bye, Lenin!, it was his performance in the critically-acclaimed Rush that caused me to spiral. Similar to when Benedict Cumberbatch took on the modern version of Sherlock, it was like seeing Brühl with new eyes. His playful take on Helmut Zemo in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier was the final nail in the coffin. I don’t imagine it’s all too different from what Tom Hiddleston did to fans of Marvel as Loki.

I’m actually at the tail-end of this obsession now that I’ve seen everything I can get a hold of—around 39 films, two TV shows, a documentary, a music video, countless interviews, a bunch of ads, and a handful of fan cuts—but he has a lot of works worth recommending so I thought I would share them on here. This will mostly be a subjective list with priority on projects I found most interesting which showcase his range best. Like, I enjoyed The Bourne Ultimatum but he was on screen for a total of 2 minutes so I wouldn’t include that here.

RUSH (2013) This biographical sports film written by Peter Morgan—the man behind The Crown—centers on the rivalry between Formula One drivers James Hunt and Niki Lauda in the 70s. Not a fan of F1 or sports in general. I have nothing against either, just zero interest. But this character-driven film, much like Ford vs Ferrari, had me at the edge of my seat the entire ride. And it surprisingly has one of the best meet-cutes—and accidental wingmen—I’ve seen yet.

Brühl delivers an Oscar-worthy performance in this role. For someone who needed a lot of convincing he could do the character justice, he truly went above and beyond. For one, he befriended and studied Lauda, the iconic F1 figure he was portraying. No easy feat considering Lauda being, well… Lauda. In interviews, Brühl recounts the story of the memorable invite he got from Lauda to meet in Vienna. This would be their first meeting and Lauda told Brühl outright that he should only bring hand luggage so he can piss off if they don’t like each other.

He would end up staying a few days and buying additional clothes.

He also spent a month in Vienna to nail the accent, making sure to capture the arrogance and irony innate to it. And although he got driver training for the role, he also considered the tiniest details like which went on first: helmet or gloves? There was also the tricky business of looking graceful entering a tiny F1 car—a bigger challenge for Chris Hemsworth who plays Hunt—but an obstacle all the same.

All the hard work paid off. It was well-received by audiences, critics, and the F1 world. The first time Lauda saw the film he went, “Holy shit, that’s really me”. Lauda’s friends thought he did voiceover work for it. Director Ron Howard was so pleased with Brühl’s performance that he went out of his way to show an unfinished cut of the movie to the producers of The Fifth Estate (2013). This gracious act would land Brühl the co-lead role opposite Benedict Cumberbatch.

GOOD BYE, LENIN! (2003) Can't tell if it's just because the two films have the same composer and were created around the same time, but this tragicomedy set in East Germany reminded me so much of my beloved Amélie. This is definitely more dramatic and political but it has that same mix of whimsy, heart, and charm. With its budget, it was meant to be an indie film, but the story of a son who would recreate a faux-socialist world to keep his mother alive captured the heartstrings of audiences, not just in Germany but also worldwide. Brühl plays the son and his success with this film was a double-edged sword: although it would open doors for him internationally, he would also be typecast as the “nice guy” in his home country.

INGLORIOUS BASTERDS (2009) This has one of the best, most intense opening sequences in all of cinema… and one of the greatest villains. In this wild alternate universe from Quentin Tarantino, he rewrites the ending of World War II. It’s the right balance of dark, hilarious, and entertaining—my favorite from the auteur’s works. Here Brühl plays a cute and charming Nazi, which is very confusing to the senses.

Aside from Brühl, it was also my first introduction to Christoph Waltz, Michael Fassbender, and Melanie Laurent—all fantastic European actors who’ve crossed over to Hollywood after the success of this movie. “Crossing over” seems ubiquitous now but, at that time, giving most of the lead roles to then relatively unknown actors must have been a risk. But for this, it was necessary. Language plays a huge part in this trilingual film and casting native speakers grounded it in authenticity. Tarantino originally had Leonardo di Caprio in mind to play Hans Landa. Whether he meant for him to learn German or to speak English with a German accent, who knows. Either way, it’s safe to say that would have been a different film.

THE EDUKATORS / DIE FETTEN JAHRE SIND VORBEI (2004) This anti-capitalist film, which has become a cult classic, captures the spirit, idealism, recklessness, and angst of young revolutionaries who just want a better world. Where one stands on the measures taken, or even their sentiment, can be considered a litmus test. With or without reference to this quote from the movie—“Under 30 and not liberal, no heart. Over 30 and still liberal, no brain.”—is up to the viewer.

There needs to be a suspension of disbelief for the series of events that takes place but the setting is necessary for the clash of worlds to happen. It’s not a perfect movie but the issues they debate about in length… they’re still discussions we’re having nearly 20 years later.

p.s. this has my favorite behind-the-scenes of all of Brühl’s projects. Though he hasn’t lost his sense of humor, he seems to have become more reserved as he got older. HERE, at this period in his life, he’s a total goofball bordering on loose cannon.

THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER (2021) Though I’ve enjoyed quite a few MCU movies, I’m not invested in the universe at all, so watching this wasn’t a priority. In fact, I was ready to settle on YouTube compilations made by devoted fans of all the scenes Brühl was in. Upon seeing clips, however, I got intrigued by his character so I still ended up watching the miniseries and also Captain America: Civil War (2016).

Both were better than I expected. Civil War is more serious, while TFATWS is more playful, but both face relevant issues along with formidable foes. Brühl’s villain in Helmut Zemo is fascinating because he tears the mighty Avengers apart with mere patience, fury, and intelligence… and his motivations are understandable. He lets his character loose in TFATWS—at one point, on the dance floor—and it’s magnificent. His mission is still the same, but this time he does it with a lot of charm, humor, and fabulous Sokovian style. A Turkish delight, personified.

ME AND KAMINSKI / ICH UND KAMINSKI (2015) Brühl’s Sebastian Zöllner is a repulsive and sleazy journalist who has greasy hair and wears too much cologne but I can’t get enough of his chaotic energy. His magnum opus is hitched on a legendary artist dying and his fantasy is to turn the orphaned daughter into a sugar mommy. It’s all kinds of messed up but he plays the hell out of the smarmy dirtbag so it’s a lot of fun. This is Brühl’s second collaboration with Wolfgang Becker, who directed Good Bye, Lenin! Daniel Kehlmann, the writer whose eponymous book this film was based on, would later write Brühl’s directorial debut, Nebenan.

NO REGRETS / NICHTS BEUREUEN (2001) This is reminiscent of the slightly problematic but highly enjoyable teen comedies and coming-of-age films of the 90s. It’s like an edgier Can’t Hardly Wait: boy goes through cringe-worthy measures to get the girl he’s long been pining for, his two closest pals have nothing but dumb advice to offer, yet he still ends up on the path to self-discovery. It’s awkward, chaotic, frustrating, and beautiful—but such is adolescence.

Brühl and his co-star Jessica Schwarz fall in love on the set of this film. And although they would break up years later, the tenderness between their scenes together is palpable and there’s something rather bittersweet about seeing that captured in perpetuity.

For a more straightforward rom-com, he has Lila, Lila (2009). It’s about a guy who passes off a manuscript as his own to impress a girl and the hilarity that follows. It’s on YouTube for those who need a fun and light watch.

THE ALIENIST (2018 – 2020) Based on the novel of the same name, this moody psychological thriller set in late 19th century New York follows a psychiatrist—then called an Alienist—who investigates a series of grisly murders with methods still considered new and controversial at that time, such as psychology and fingerprinting. He gets by with a little help from his friends, John Moore, an illustrator for the New York Times, and Sara Howard, a society woman who works in the NYPD.

In the lead role of Dr. Laszlo Kreizler, Brühl plays the dark, complex, and mysterious Alienist whose study of mental pathologies and deviant behaviors reveals much of himself and his past.

LESSONS OF A DREAM / DER GANZ GROßE TRAUM (2011) This film is loosely based on Konrad Koch, an educator and pioneer who brought football to Germany in the late 19th century. In the movie, the sport is used as a means to pique students’ interest in the English language and culture—both considered barbaric by the Germans at that time. A heartwarming tale of a teacher who overcomes insurmountable odds and inspires students along the way, it’s the German equivalent of Dead Poet’s Society.

ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT (2022) This story, the third adaptation of the 1929 novel, “Im Westen nichts Neues”, conveys the futility of war like no other. There aren't as many films on World War I as there are on World War II, fewer ones that tell it from a German perspective, so this is doubly unique in that regard. Powerful watch but 10/10 not like to relive it again. Apart from producing it with his company, Amusement Park, Brühl plays Matthias Erzberger, the German State Secretary who pushes for armistice talks with the Allied forces.

An ideal companion watch to this would be Joyeux Noël / Merry Christmas (2005), another WWI movie Brühl stars in, which depicts the unbelievable Christmas truce between French, German, and Scottish soldiers in 1914. His linguistic ability shines here as he shifts between German, French, and English effortlessly. (Half German, half Spanish, Brühl speaks a total of five languages: those three plus Spanish and Catalan.)

The Zookeeper’s Wife (2017) and Alone in Berlin (2016) also recognize the bravery of defiance at the height of tyrannical regimes. Although between the two, I would skip the latter.

JOHN RABE (2009) This biographical film set in China tells the incredible true story of a German businessman who uses his Nazi Party membership to create an International Safety Zone in Nanking. This was in the late 1930s, during the Rape of Nanjing. In this six-week carnage by the Imperial Japanese Army—which includes sexual assault, mutilations, and killing contests—upwards of 200,000 Chinese are brutally murdered. The protective zone manages to save around the same number of civilians.

Brühl doesn’t play the titular Rabe, but his character, Dr. Georg Rosen, is one of few Westerners who decides to remain and protect Nanking even as conflict escalates. Dr. Rosen was a German Diplomat instrumental in the creation of the safety zone.

p.s. with all these heroic roles in his catalog, I’m convinced Brühl would be a frontrunner to play President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, should a movie be made about him and Ukraine’s conflict with Russia. You heard it here first.

NEXT DOOR / NEBENAN (2021) This is Brühl’s directorial debut. Here he plays a darker, fictionalized version of himself. Definitely not for everyone but quite enjoyable if you’re familiar with his major works and public persona, appreciate the ingenuity of one-location movies, and delight in British-style meta humor.

Pre-requisite viewing for maximum enjoyment: Good Bye, Lenin!, Captain America: Civil War, and The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

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mjolnirswriststrap · 3 months

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Silver Bullet

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Helmut Zemo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,670 Masterlist

Summary: The best night of the year, Halloween, turns into a night you just want to forget. PART 1/4.

Warnings: werewolves, cheating, backstabbing best friend, Zemo is a whore, truly.

Red cloaks filled the crowd. This years Halloween parade theme being Dracula. Rob Zombie blared through speakers anchored to lampposts. You and your friends all wore matching costumes, collectively going as the wives of Dracula. It was a good excuse to wear the hottest outfits you could find. Most people paled their skin with white face paint, and molded little pieces of wax to their teeth.

Not you, you wore basically nothing for your costume. Each friend had a different color of fabric, that was loosely draped and cinched around your body. The best way to describe it would be a Greek toga, instead of linen it’s sheer silk, leaving nothing to the imagination. You all wore the same gold collar, a dragon etched on the front; curtesy of the blue bride, Miranda’s, 3D printer.

You didn’t plan on staying, you all agreed to be a part of the parade, once that was over, you were all headed to Zemo’s annual Halloween masquerade. You don’t think he particularly liked having hundreds of people flooding his property every year. But having the biggest house in town was a blessing and a curse. He hosted most festivities for your rather large population of teens and young adults.

You had a fascination with the bachelor. He inherited the mansion, land and money from his grandfather, skipping over his father completely. His family was prominent in the community, both of his parents having a chair at city hall. They volunteered at the food bank and donated to every shelter. Any sane person would think they deserved the money in a way. So why Zemo?

You made it to the party late, everyone leaving the house for the back yard. Zemo had the trees lighted and a dance floor built, always prepared for a celebration. Your friends ditched you as soon as you all got drinks, saying they were going to find their boyfriends. Leaving you to explore the surrounding woods alone.

You nearly drop your red solo cup when you see Zemo pressing Miranda against a tree, practically swallowing each others faces. Tears of betrayal sting your cheeks. She knew you had a crush on him, and she has a boyfriend anyways. You stalk away in anger, losing the trail but not caring. You found a tree far enough from the party that no one would hear your sobs.

You downed the cup filled halfway with vodka, a drop of orange juice for flavor. It dried your tears quickly, leaving your whole body warm. “Stupid.” You say, standing up and brushing the leaves off your dress. “Stupid for liking Zemo.”. You agreed whole heartedly with that. “Stupid for thinking Miranda was my friend.” That’s what hurt the most.

In the midst of your self hate you failed to notice a looming figure. “You’re not stupid.” You jolt, throwing the plastic cup in the direction of the stranger. “Sorry, you scared me.” You giggle, when you see it’s just a guy from the party wearing a phantom of the opera mask.

“It’s okay.” He reaches down and picks up the liter. “Gotta keep our forests clean.” He waves the red in the air. You give him a dry laugh. Men are scary and being alone in the woods with a stranger was causing every alarm in your brain to siren. But the vodka numbed your sense of fear.

“I should get going.” You say, turning and trying to step around the tree. Before you could, the stranger steps closer. “Should you?” He says deeply. He’s close enough now that you can see his piercing blue eyes behind the mask. They render you speechless, the way the moonlight shone off them, put you in a trance. You shake your head, too focused to verbally answer him.

“See, you’re not so stupid after all.” He teases. You have no reaction. His words didn’t fill you with pride or embarrassment. Your veins filled with the distinct warmth of feeling safe. You don’t know where it came from, your body was irrationally reacting to him. You should be shaking with fear and trying to get back to the party, not calmly standing here waiting for something to happen.

It felt like you were locked inside a body that wasn’t yours. It was being controlled by some outside force. You let him reach for you, never flinching away. Your body produced goosebumps where his fingertips grazed your skin. “You’re so beautiful. I’d hate to ruin that.” You nod your head, not even thinking of a single way he could ruin your beauty. Your mind was blank, you couldn’t even say thank you.

“Promise me you won’t resist, once it happens.” You knew nothing of what he spoke, but again you feel your neck bow to him, nodding in agreement. The masked man looks up at the moon, reveling in its fullness. “Are you prepared for no return?” You agree with a nod, now you know you were fully possessed by something. His words should send you running, but a small voice in the back of your head says you would never.

He steps closer again, grabbing fistfuls of your gown, cinched at your waist. “You have to say it. Say I have permission.” His voice was desperate and darker than before. You try to find the words but the influence he had on you was slowly fading, the way he started pressing you against the tree brought you back to your senses. He holds your hips in place as he nuzzles his face into your neck, taking a long deep breath.

The stubble on his chin tickled you and you had to remind yourself yet again that this is a masked stranger in the woods. Even though your senses were coming back, the way his hands lit a fire inside of you was enough to make you not care. That fire pooled lower and lower the closer he got to you. He smelled like a mix of musk and pine. You couldn’t tell if it was him or the trees surrounding you. But it made your mouth water, filling you with a want to taste his skin, just to be sure.

He raises his hand to cradle your cheek, “Please.”. He caught your eyes again, boring into them with an assured look. He focuses on your lips “Just say the words.”.

“I give you permission.” You say them without thinking of the consequences. He sealed your fate by closing the gap between your faces. Pressing his lips to yours. You moved your lips in sync with his, using your free will to wrap your arms around his neck. Before it could go any further the man disappeared. You felt him pull away, when your eyes opened to see why, he was already gone. You searched the surrounding woods with your eyes, there was no sign of him.

You grab your head, wondering if you drunkenly hallucinated. The moisture on your mouth and in your underwear was foolproof evidence that it really just happened. But you still began to question its validity.

You hear a twig snap somewhere near you, in hopes that it was the magnetic stranger you followed it, rounding an old fallen tree you spot a black dog. It was rather large in stature, must be a purebred if it’s that big. You knew an expensive dog wouldn’t be wandering the woods collarless. And you couldn’t remember if Zemo ever mentioned having any pets.

You stepped closer, never fearing animals. You loved dogs, you had a few of your own at your parents house. “Here boy.” You kneel down, reaching out your hand. It finally gives you its attention. Immediately showing his sharp canines, snarling loudly. “Oop.” You stand up and slowly back away, knowing the signs of an agitated dog.

When your view of it is blocked by the tree you turn around and sprint away. Not wanting to receive a rabies shot on Halloween night. You see the lighted trees nearing. That’s when you heard it, rhythmic thumbing coming from behind you. When you turn around you let out a scream, the dog is already pouncing on you, knocking you to the ground. You tray to scramble away. You see people’s feet running towards your screams.

The dog latches its mouth onto your leg, when you try to rip it away it only sinks its teeth deeper. You see Zemo come to your aid with a pool cleaner net, swinging it at the dog. “Get away.” He shouts, he ends up cracking the dog on top of his head with the plastic pole. It yelped, causing your leg to fall out of his mouth. He ran for cover, disappearing into the woods. Zemo drops to his knees beside you, shedding his jacket to wrap it around your bleeding leg.

“Are you okay?” Your eyes full with tears, embarrassment was an understatement. You didn’t want to face Zemo or Miranda. You didn’t want to see all the party goers pity filled faces either. You stood up, sucking a breath between your teeth at the pain. You limped past everyone giving eachother confused glances. Ignoring Zemo and Miranda’s fake concern.

You called your dad, sitting on the curb infront of the house. He rushed you to urgent care, spending the rest of the night with you in the waiting room. You were fine in the morning, a shot and a round of antibiotics set you on your way to recovering. You took ibuprofen for the pain. You called off of work for the rest of the week, needing to stay off your feet.

When you returned the next Monday, your boss told you there was a new bus boy. You waited tables all day before you finally saw him. Clocking in and disappearing to wash dishes. He was cute, dark brown hair and light stubble. He didn’t introduce himself to you or Mary, the other waitress, odd. But you had a feeling the little diner would grow on him eventually.

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blorbocedes · 8 months

Note

"Mercedes was offering a paid F2 season in 2015 with a view to F1 the season after, probably with a Mercedes customer team. “All that we could offer them that Mercedes could not,” recalled Red Bull’s Helmut Marko, “was an F1 drive. Because we had Toro Rosso.”

The Verstappens had gone into Max’s first season of car racing knowing F3 was a big step and figuring the following season would be the title campaign. But here they were fighting tooth and nail for the title immediately and being offered F1! Jos had leveraged Mercedes’ interest to great effect and Marko was determined to land what he saw as a generational talent, someone he’d been trying to bring into the fold for years. Finally, Jos had ‘allowed’ that to happen. It was almost as if they were doing Red Bull a favour in agreeing to terms. But what terms; the combination of Jos’ shrewdness, Max’s talent and Marko’s determination not to let it escape saw Red Bull commit not just to three seasons of F1 (the first two of them at Toro Rosso) but the freedom to walk in the third year if he was not promoted to the senior team.

The power dynamic of the 17-year-old rookie within the Red Bull group was therefore unique. Every other driver had spent years proving to Red Bull they were worthy. Red Bull had almost to prove it was worthy of retaining Max – and Marko was enthralled."

he had them gagged since the start

jos' own career got fucked in part due to he was never the talent max is, and stronger part due to management absolutely fucking him over in a way that stunted his career. so he was determined max would not only have his options open, but options from the best teams. the goal was always mercedes but redbull was the one time crazy enough to put a teenager in the cockpit, and mercedes already had their 1-2 seemingly locked in for years.

max was the boy wonder who could

#blorbocedes ask #mv1 #f1 lore

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therenlover · 10 months

Text

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

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

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

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

Rating: M (+18)

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

Word Count: 5,800~

_________

“Where is the girl?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For the best? You ignoramus-“

My lord.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I closed my eyes to the oncoming reality.

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

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

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

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

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

He had come.

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sudden silence followed.

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

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

“What, my lord?”

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

“I can assure you it was-“

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

There was silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t,” I protested.

“Don’t what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He never got to finish his sentence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They never came.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right away, my lord,”

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

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

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

“Yes darling, together,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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eclairfromleclerc · 1 year

Text

Hello everyone. It’s been a long long time since I posted here but I guess life has caught up. I have been writing this chapter for god knows how long because I just couldn’t bring myself to write certain scenes. I still have so many ideas and directions about where this fic can go but as you understand, I need my time to actually try and write those ideas. I am now giving you the 8th chapter of this story which is a generous 14.6 K words to make up for my long long absence. I really hope there will be people still interested to read this. Always keep in mind that english isn’t my native language so pardon any mistakes or inclarities. I hope you will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Wait patiently for the next part. Take Care, xx.

All’s Fair

(Toto Wolff x Reader) Chapter 8

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6 chapter 7

Landing in Jeddah feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, after closing the deal with the Bahraini investors from your Monday meeting, is the only thing you could have asked for. Nothing has been bothering you for the past few days but the fact that Christian still hasn't said anything about you being late to your meeting, made you feel a little weird. Your little text exchanges with Toto made up for the whole madness.

As soon as your phone connects to the network you see a new notification popping up.

Christian Dad Horner

No need to come over today, I got everything scheduled for the press, me and Helmut will handle it

Get some rest.

You raise your eyebrow reading , not knowing what your father is up to. Is he drunk? Is he out of his mind? You lock your phone and get off the plane. You check in your hotel, go to your room and settle in. As you take your clothes off your suitcase you find once again Toto’s Mercedes shirt in it and you take it out and put it on a hanger and in your closet. Thursdays are supposed to be a fun day in the paddock because of all the media and generally relaxed vibe that everyone has. The fact that no sessions take place on Thursdays doesn’t mean everyone isn’t working hard but still Christian thought your presence was not necessary, so here you are. Your phone rings with a new notification

Wolff

What’s your schedule for the press today?

You

Christian told me he and Helmut will handle it, I won’t be joining today

I am just bored, sitting in my hotel room

You open the camera on the app and snap a picture of your computer on your bed and some snacks nearby and you hit send

Wolff

So you get to relax.

Enjoy it for all of us who have to work

You

Will do :)

You spend the rest of your day in your room and meet Max to grab dinner at the hotel restaurant. Much less eventful for a usual race week Thursday.

The next day you wake up, have breakfast and get ready to leave for the track. You check you have everything you need with you including your iPad and your badge to get in the paddock and you drive the Aston Martin, you lease for the weekend, to the track. You get to the entrance and scan your badge. To your surprise the screen in front of you shows a red cross and a message saying ‘Access Denied’. You try once again but the same message appears. You reach for your phone to call Christian to get you from the entrance. You wait for a couple of seconds before you hear his voice, the noise from the garage familiar to your ears.

“Hey Dad”

“Hello” you hear him answering

“It seems like my pass isn’t working, can you please come here and let me through?” you ask

“Oh I am quite busy right now sweetheart.”

“Can you send someone else instead?”

“Um, I am sorry I have to tell you this but there’s a reason why your pass isn’t working.”

“What ?”

“It is going to remain like this for sometime, before I trust you to come back to the team”

“Did you cancel my pass because of what happened on Monday?”

“You should have been ready for this. I can’t discuss it more right now, we are having a meeting before FP1”

“Can you at least let me know about the meeting?”

“No, you are not in the team currently so, nothing to share. Feel free to fly back to England or Monaco with the next flight you find” Christian tells you and then ends the call.

Thank god you thought about moving a bit further from the entrance so no one heard your discussion with your father. You feel a rush of anger coming at you but you hold yourself and walk as gracefully as you can back to your car, as people are watching you. You drive off the track and you pull over at the first parking space you see. You sit there in silence, since you were so confused that you didn’t even think to put some of your playlists on, and you try to realize what is happening. You let out a scream and tears roll over your face as you think of your father and all his five year old antics. But then you get the best and the worst idea you could possibly come up with. You drive fast back to your hotel and you run to your suite. You open the closet, grab Toto’s Mercedes shirt, stuff it in your new bag that you haven’t worn in public, put on some tight black pants, some flat shoes and search furiously for that Mercedes face mask that Toto gave you that day in your travel bag. You get back to your car and drive to the track again, pulling over to wear the shirt and making yourself look like a mercedes employee. You leave the car a bit farther than usual so that fans don’t recognize you coming out of the car with the Mercedes gear. You once again walk to the paddock entrance. Hair tied on a bun, face mask and huge Gucci sunglasses covering your face. You get there not having thought of a way to get in. So you go with your instincts.

“Hey” you say to the security guard.

“Hi, how may I help you?”

“Um, I am a new employee for Mercedes but I can’t seem to find my badge to get in.” you say with the best American accent that you have. Not that it mattered since the guard was Saudi Arabian. “Can you maybe call Mr. Wolff to come here? I’ll explain the situation to him”

“I’ll reach Mr Lord.” he says

“No, no. You should call Mr.Wolff instead. I am not sure Mr. Lord is aware of my arrival here.”

“I’ll try to call Mr. Wolff then.”

5 minutes later you see the Austrian walking to the entrance of the paddock and on his way there he waves to people, greets others and takes some photos.

He goes to the security guard that called him

“What is it?” he asks

“This lady claimed that she’s a new employee for your team but she seems to have lost her badge, she insisted that I should call you instead of Mr. Lord.”

Toto turns to look at you and you don’t hesitate. If you are going to get in, this is your chance.

“Hello Mr. Wolff. My name is Mindy Roosevelt, I am here from the American branch of Daimler.” you say-again in your american accent- not being even 1% sure that you are making any sense. “I was sent here to assist you but it has been a really tricky week for me.” you look at Toto and he looks as confused as ever. “I was supposed to be here yesterday but my flight was canceled so I had to travel to Abu Dhabi to catch a connecting flight.” you try to give him hints of who you are, not being sure he understands. “ I had to look for the advisor of Daimler US Anri Hakkassan to give me my badge but then my wallet got stolen at the airport so I was left without a badge and my ID to show you who I am.” you see Toto’s eyes getting wider and wider as he realizes who you are. Your story seemed convincing for the security guard but Toto can’t leave you outside. He takes a deep breath

“Ah yes miss Roosevelt I was waiting for you all day. Sorry to hear this. Come on.” he says and signals to the guard to let you through. You walk in the paddock and to the Mercedes hospitality, Toto not hesitating for a minute at the thought of you coming from another team. As soon as you both get in you see Bradley drinking coffee in the main lounge area of the motorhome and he greets you.

“I don’t want anyone bothering me for the next half an hour at least” he says to Bradley and he walks to his office as you follow him closely. You close the door behind you and Toto reaches and locks it. You take off your mask trying to apologize for the mess you’ve created.

“I am so sorry Toto” you say and you hear him laugh

“What is this?” he asks as he continues laughing

“Are you mad at me?”

“No, I am just wondering how the hell you got yourself in this situation.”

“Christian blocked my paddock pass”

“He did what?” he asks looking slightly amused

“This isn’t funny Toto, you know how much I love being in the team”

“That’s why you are hijacking my team?” he asks

“Christian thought that removing me from the team for a couple of races is a good way to punish me for being late at that meeting we had.”

“He did it just because you were 35 minutes late?”

“You don’t realize Christian has a mind of a five year old when it’s about work right?”

“You said the investors were not mad that you were late, you even managed to charm them into signing a deal.”

“Yeah but Christian was mad, and he says it’s not about the investment, it’s about basic work ethic. Anyways, I can’t buy a paddock pass because I am not the type to sit in the lounge to watch the race. I need to be in the team. Plus I can’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me depressed because I am not at the pitwall or the garage.”

“How stubborn.”

“Yeah I am.”

“That’s very Horner of you.” he tells you and you roll your eyes at his obvious reference to your father’s stubbornness.

“You are my only chance Toto, the other teams don’t even have a reason to accept me, except from Alpha Tauri, but I can’t go begging Franz about a paddock pass when he is clearly influenced by my dad.”

“Why are we even your only chance, we are your main competitors.” he asks

“I swear to god Toto I will do anything just to be here until Christian decides to drop the farce that he started. I will sign an NDA, I will keep my mouth shut about anything I see, I will delete it from my mind. Just let me be in the garage for the next few races.”

“How many races?” he looks at you

“I don’t know 3 maybe 4?” you tell him barely whispering.

“That’s a lot.” he replies “But for you I’ll try to do my best.”

You try not to scream as you stand up from your seat, walk to his chair and hug him. You catch him off guard as he widens his eyes but then you feel his tension leaving him.

“From now on you are Mindy Roosvelt and you came here to assist me as a part of your internship at Daimler US. You studied in New York, and you are American. You don’t know for how many races you’ll be here but it’s not long term.” Toto says taking his teacher look

“Understood.”

“You should never remove your mask in front of others, just tell them that you are at risk or something. Don’t wear high heels. We should do something about your hair so that people won’t realize it’s you and I advise you to wear sunglasses as much as possible, I’ll have Lewis hand me his collection from the Police Collaboration.”

“I’ll buy a wig. Can I have some more shirts and a couple of masks?”

“Is this shirt mine?” he asks and you nod “Looks good on you.” he says

“I’ll use yours then.” you tell him and you see him grinning.

“I’ll have someone send you a couple of shirts, pants and shoes. I'll request your new paddock pass and I will be printing your NDA.”

“If anything leaks into Red Bull I swear I’ll be the first to go to court even if I am innocent.” you tell him and he laughs “Don’t laugh, I need you to see how serious I am about this. I won’t be saying anything to anyone.”

“I trust you. The NDA part is only about the team having to be legally protected.”

“Okay” you say

“Your office must be ready. It’s just the room next door, please lock it when you’re in.” he advises you “And please don’t forget your American accent once you go outside.”

“I won’t forget. If we happen to see Christian around, just stay calm, I’ll handle it.”

“Okay” he says and you sit in silence for a couple of minutes.

“I’ll go next door now.” you say and you stand up. “Oh sorry Toto, can I ask you about one last thing?”

“What is it?”

“Christian told me that I am free to leave with the next flight so I will be checking out of the hotel and I thought maybe I should be at the Mercedes hotel?”

“I’ll arrange it. See you later.” he replies as you put on your mask and go to the room next door.

20 minutes later you hear the door knocking, you stand up and reach for it

“Who is this?”

“Miss Roosevelt, I am Mariah. Mr. Wolff gave me something for you.”

You put your mask on and open the door

“Come on in.” you tell her and she steps into your fake office

“I have this new iPad for you, Toto wanted you to have this. It has all of the passwords you’ll need and direct access to Toto’s schedule so you’ll know where you will be going and what you’ll be doing.”

“What passwords are there?”

“Company email, team communications and private accounts.”

“Okay thank you Mariah.”

“If you need anything else please do not hesitate to ask me, have a nice day.” she tells you and she leaves the office as you lock the door and remove your mask

You reach for your phone and text Toto

You

Didn’t need to have access to all of this

Wolff

You have to If we are planning this lie correctly.

I also sent you the details on your company email about the hotel room. I arranged it.

You

Give me a minute I’ll have to get used to all of this.

The iPad is nice, I’ll give it back once I get all the details.

Wolff

Adaptability is key

Keep the iPad I don’t want you walking around the paddock with your old one, it’s practically a part of your looks, everyone will realize it’s you

Wolff

Anyways gotta work, I will be in the garage with Nyck for FP1, you’re welcome to hang by the fantasy island if you ever get the energy.

For any question just text or call.

You sit around for a while until your phone rings with a new notification from your calendar for the session starting in 5 minutes and as soon as you get it you stand up and leave for the garage. This time though it feels different. You used to take all your stuff with you in your pit wall seat but now there’s no pitwall seat, you’ll be just standing next to Toto, in the garage. You never got to stay in the garage, Christian always made sure you had a place at the pitwall, the garage was essentially a passage to get from the hospitality to the pitwall. You never spent a whole session in there, but now you will. The difference is the garage is not the one you are used to. It’s the Mercedes one and it’s clean, organized and much more hospitable than the one at Red Bull. At the long entrance of the garage there’s someone looking at you, making sure that you’re one of them. Little does he know, you think.

“I am looking for Mr. Wolff.” you tell him

“He’s sat at the fantasy island with Nyck. You’ll see them once you get in.”

And you certainly do. The fantasy island splits the garage in two smaller ones for the two drivers of Mercedes, you get next to Toto and you don’t say a word. You look around you trying to take everything in, how the garage looks, how everyone is focused on what they’re doing and Toto next to you trying to manage everything that’s happening. He’s too far in to realize that you’re next to him and he nearly jumps as you touch his arm.

“Sorry” you say quietly behind your mask.

“It’s okay, I never realized that you came.”

“Well, I couldn’t turn down the proposal, plus I am supposed to be your assistant so I have to be with you.”

“I am not complaining.” he says and thank god Nyck is too busy chatting with Bradley next to you. Bradley hasn’t asked anything about you, he just keeps looking and staring at you but he’s not saying anything.

For the next half an hour you see Lewis and George doing their laps, coming and leaving the garage during the session but during all this time you realize that you haven’t looked at the RedBull’s performances. The Mercedes garage felt like home for some reason. You weren’t doing nothing, you were just standing with your headphones on hearing comments about the car that you swear to yourself that you will never reveal to your team. Next to you Toto sits and watches the whole team working like a well oiled machine that he engineered. You are sure that he feels proud of himself, he has that grin on his face that makes you think so. You don’t know him really well but you have learned to pick some of those signs from the times that you’ve seen him around or that you’ve hung out with him. Again all of your thoughts are interrupted by a vibration from your pocket where your phone is. Goddamn it. Another calendar reminder but this time it is from Toto’s calendar that you’ve managed to sync to your iPhone earlier.

Meeting: Team Principals, FIA and F1. (1 assistant is allowed to attend)

You widen your eyes at the notification and you tap Toto’s shoulder who is watching the timings and the data in front of him. He turns to look at you and removes the headphone from your side. You do the same but you realize Nyck is looking at you.

“Sir, I just got a notification about your meeting with the F1 and FIA execs.”

“It is half an hour after the session ends right?”

“Yes but am I required to attend?” you ask

“Miss Roosevelt I believe that you were asked to be here as my assistant so since the meeting allows assistants it is your duty to be there.”

“Okay Mr. Wolff” you say and put your headphones back on to watch the rest of the session.

“If you feel uncomfortable just excuse yourself and leave.” he turns and tells you and you nod.

After the session in which your cars -yes, Mercedes cars- finish 1 and 3 you leave the garage and go back to the hospitality while waiting for Toto to finish his press duties.

Wolff

I am done with my interviews, meet you outside our hospitality in 5?

You

Yes, I will be there.

You leave and find him at the spot he told you to. You walk side by side to the race control building where the meeting is supposed to take place, him towering over you and you feeling miniscule beside him. When you are just outside Alpha Tauri’s garage you see your dad discussing with Franz and you roll your eyes praying that they will just let you go by. You get temporarily relieved when you are already past them but of course Christian has to talk to you. The man is trouble without trying. You hear him yelling “Hey Toto” from your back and you turn to face him. Toto frowns a bit but his expressions are mostly covered by his sunglasses.

“Are you heading to the meeting?” Christian asks

“We are, yes.” Toto replies as you keep walking, Christian catching up with you. You take a sharp breath trying to persuade yourself that he won’t understand who you are. You’ve got your face covered after all.

“I’ll join you.” Christian announces not even asking Toto who is clearly getting angrier. “I don’t believe we’ve met before” he says and turns to you.

You freeze but you regain your strength and reply to him “No, we actually haven't.”

“I am Christian Horner, team principal of Red Bull Racing.”

“Mindy Roosevelt, nice to meet you.” you say in your best American accent hoping that you won’t get recognized.

“And you work for Mercedes I see. Let me guess’ Public Relations?”

“No, I am here to assist Mr. Wolff for a couple of races, it is something like an internship from the American branch of Daimler.”

“I figured from the accent that you might be American.” Christian replies “Are you planning on staying at Daimler or leaving to get a job at motorsport?”

“I don’t know yet I’ll see where it gets me.” you answer

“If you plan on staying here please text me your details, I got a very interesting assistant position for you.”

“You had your daughter as your assistant from the beginning of the season, what happened to her?” you ask, trying to understand what he’s doing but you hear his phone ringing.

“It’s complicated with her, I need something stable, and I know Wolff always gets the best of the best so I might have to get a taste.” he replies as Toto, who was silent before, scoffs in the background. Christian checks his phone and excuses himself as he runs back to the Alpha Tauri hospitality center.

You let out a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding as you are walking to the meeting.

“Red Bull will be trying to have technical directives for the next few races to try and stop us.” Toto says.

“I know, I built that case and all the arguments. I know exactly what to say to convince the FIA in favor of Red Bull.” you reply “Can I talk during the meeting?” you ask

“What do you mean talk?”

“Like defending our team’s points, why technical directives shouldn’t be changed, and counterarguments.”

“No, your role is the one of the assistant, not the meeting participant. You will only be allowed there to keep notes.”

“I can write my points to you and you can read them and elaborate more, can’t I?”

“Yes, you can write notes for me to read.”

“Nice, let’s get no regulation change for today.”

“Isn’t this bad for Red Bull?”Toto asks

“Right now I am working for Mercedes, and Mercedes is only treating me right.” you answer

Toto raises his eyebrows “I am both flattered and surprised by the fact that you want to favor us.”

“You know what Toto? I am tired of thinking how Christian and Helmut will be using my case to present in this meeting. I worked hard for this and I was supposed to present my point. This meeting was supposed to be my first one.”

“Didn’t you go when you were younger?”

“No, I didn’t Christian always had his assistant with him and never managed to get me in even when I started working part-time for him. It is frustrating to see how your own father looks to replace you at a job. And now the team that I accidentally got in, even has the ability to read my notes and present a solid case.”

Toto doesn’t say anything, he just looks at you, his body language revealing that he is scared to say anything to you.

“Am I really that bad?” you ask

“No. Don’t you ever say that again. You were great, you got a deal with some investors, you helped run a team and you are doing a good job at even being an assistant in the team you probably hated the most.”

10 minutes later you are already sitting at a long table. Toto is sitting on your left. You take your new iPad and a Mercedes notepad with a matching pen and rest it on the conference table in front of you as team principals and other officials are taking their seats to start the meetings. Once everyone is gathered there Stefano starts the meeting with all the formalities needed the conversation starts and after a while you start discussing the burning issue. You open your updated document that you had created this morning with all the arguments and the possible answers that could be said from Mercedes’ side, those ones you hadn’t given to your father. This was only to help your presentation to get the regulations changed but now you are using it for the opposite reason. Christian finishes presenting all the planned points and it’s time for Toto to express his opinion. You managed to write a couple of things on paper and showed him some of the points that he needs to discuss. The man has done this countless times you’re sure but he’s totally letting you handle this.

“Okay, this is an answer to Christian’s concerns about how the regulations right now are not in the right direction. I do not have an exact answer to each and every point of Christian’s speech but I will be trying to get most of them.” he says and glances at the paper in front of him “I’ll start by Christian’s point that the issue affects multiple teams, when in fact it’s not even the majority of the grid that faces the issue that you are aiming to get changed. I can’t see the reason for the regulation change, clearly it’s not that dangerous to drivers health according to doctors and also it would be a huge waste of our resources to just redesign certain aspects of the car when we have the budget cap this year. That’s how I see it.” Toto finishes his monologue and all the eyes are on him.

“Clearly there will be a vote for this.” Stefano says

“Thank you for the notes.” Toto says turning to you and you nod back

Later on the vote takes place and the results are the ones that you expected. That means increased performance from Mercedes and Red Bull chasing them right behind. In other circumstances you would be fuming but now you are happy Mercedes got the chance to stop the regulation changes with your help. The meeting ends and you lobby around for a little longer but afterwards you are back to the paddock walking to the garage for the second practice session. Toto walks by your side and you feel he wants to ask you about what happened there but before he can you inform him you will need some time in your office and you leave him behind.

You get back to your office and you text your friend Sara who lives in Monaco

You

Are you in Monaco?

Sara

Of course I am in Monaco.

The question is where are you?

You

Issues with dad, he won’t let me enter the paddock because I was late in a business meeting and now he removed me from the team

Still in Jeddah though

Listen, I need a favor from you and your magic contacts in Monaco

Sara

I don’t wish to know more about the dad-daughter drama

But I am here to help you with whatever you want

You

I need a place to stay in Monaco

Sara

You can crash on mine or I’ll book you a hotel

You

I am thinking more of an apartment tbh

Sara

How long do you plan on staying here?

You

Permanently?

Sara

OMG, you’ll become a fellow Monegasque?

I will be in contact with my estate agent

You

Yes, I am planning to finally start living in Monaco. I don’t even know if Christian will take me back to the team to be honest but even if he does I can still live in Oxfordshire or in my apartment in London.

Sara

How fast do you need it?

You

As soon as possible please

You lock your phone as you take a deep breath to realize the decision that you just took. Moving to Monaco has always been your dream, since you have been to the Grand Prix there you fell in love with the place and you have spent quite some time in Sara’s house during the summer when you were younger. But now you want to do this alone, you want to feel independent in the country that you loved so much. You immediately think of contacting your father. You decide email is the best option. If he wants to be a bitch so will you

Hello father,

I am sending this email to inform you about my decisions. I will be moving to Monaco in the next couple of weeks, on my own. I believe I will be able to make my own living with the money I currently have. I am requesting my last paycheck from the team since I have been fired and I am not aware of your intentions to hire me back or not. I wish that my personal space in our estate in Oxfordshire remains unchanged in case I am able to return to my obligations to the team, and I inform you that the apartment in London will still be mine. I am still in Saudi Arabia arranging my flight to Monaco. I will be quite busy during the next few weeks so I will not be able to contact you. Should you decide that I am able to come back to the team please inform me.

Wishing you the best.

And send.

You go back to the garage 20 minutes in the session and you spot Toto sitting alone at the top of the fantasy island wearing a pair of headphones while another one is resting on the desk in front of him. You go to his right and check the timings. Currently Mercedes 1-2. He looks at you and removes the headset so he can listen. He hands you the spare headset.

“Isn’t this Nyck’s?” you ask

“No this is yours, Nyck is not joining us at this session.”

“Thank you” you say and you wear the headphones

During the rest of the session Toto shows you all the graphs about the car performance as well as all the communications systems in the team. You are convinced that he is not supposed to do that, it’s knowledge that an assistant could live without knowing and wouldn’t affect their job but still he seems so invested in letting you understand how the team works. This experience is not about gathering information for Red Bull, you think. It’s more about how a team should be and how correct management is done. Something that you feel is missing from Red Bull. The session finishes and Lewis and George are back to the garage with another top 3 finish for the team.

As soon as your day ends you drive your Aston Martin back to the Red Bull hotel, pack your baggage, check out and drive to the airport where you are supposed to leave the car. When you manage to do so you go to the car rental area of the airport and visit the kiosk of the company Toto texted you about and get the keys to a brand new Mercedes AMG. Shortly after that you get dressed with your Mercedes gear once again and drive to the Ritz-Carlton to check into your new room.

Turns out Toto has not only arranged a room for you but it’s also a huge fucking suite that you’re sure most Mercedes employees wouldn’t even consider having. You take a look at the suite and you open the closet door to find it full of Mercedes team shirts, hilfiger pants and the usual Mercedes designed puma shoes. You snap a picture of the closet and you decide to document those weeks of alternate reality that you are currently living in.

When the anxiety of the weirdest day you’ve lived wears off you check your phone for your newest messages

Sara

Gerard just reached out to me.

He has a wonderful loft 2,5 km from the Quartier Du Port.

Generally peaceful location

Sea views as well

Let me know if you want to see it.

You

If you can go there and get some pictures please do. Thank you <3

After that long day you realize that you didn’t get the chance to have a proper meal so you decide to order room service to finally eat something. You think of how pathetic it would look if you eat alone in this huge suite and before you can even cope with that thought you reach for your phone and call Toto. He picks up after 2 rings

“Hello” he says

“Hi, how’s everything?”

“Good, I am getting ready to go downstairs to the restaurant to have dinner, how are you?” “Oh same I was thinking of getting some room service for dinner since I can’t actually go to the restaurant to eat, but the suite is big enough to not feel restricted in one room. Thanks for that by the way.”

“I am sure you’ve only lived in suites for the whole year now so I thought why not. Don’t let the rest of the team know that though.” he says and you hear his laugh on the phone. You stay quiet and he does the same but when you actually decide to say something he speaks again “Maybe we can have dinner together now” he says.

“That’s why I called you in the first place” you admit, but you think you definitely sound a bit in despair. “I can’t order food for two people though it might seem weird.”

“You can come over to my suite, I’ll make sure that it will look as if I am having a meeting with either James or Shov.” he suggests

“Is it okay?” you ask again

“Definitely, I will be ready in 10, suite 264. See you.” he says and terminates the call.

You take a look at the closet trying to decide what to wear. You choose a graphic t-shirt and your most comfortable pants paired with your white sneakers, the only flat pair of shoes that you carried with you. You take a look at the mirror, readjust your hair, put on a nude lipstick and after 10 minutes you are finally ready to leave. You put on your mask because your goal for today isn’t getting caught from walking in some hotel corridor and you navigate your way to suite 264, you knock on the door and Toto is right there letting you in. He’s wearing a pair of black sweats and a gray T-shirt but he is barefoot.

“Hey” you say and you walk in the suite looking around. It does look like your suite when it comes to furniture but the rooms are a little more private. There’s a desk that has turned out to be more like Toto’s office for the weekend. You sit on the couch while he closes the door behind you and walks in the living room. You take your mask off and sit there looking at the ceiling. Toto stands in front of you with a menu card in hand.

“I was thinking, maybe pasta?” he tells you

“That’s what I planned to order today.” you laugh as Toto reaches for the phone on the table next to the couch and orders 2 plates of pasta ai funghi with two glasses of red wine.

“They’ll be here in 30 minutes” he tells you

“Great” you reply and stand up. You look at the place around you, stand up and walk to the desk. You sit on the only chair there and you put on his round glasses and put on your serious face as you move your fingers on the mousepad of his mac which -to your surprise- is unlocked so you are able to navigate in his computer. You open up his email but still he doesn’t react even though you are looking at you closely and you start typing and reading out loud.

“Hey Michael, I am just sending you an email.” you say and you keep being serious while you hear Toto bursting in laughter at the couch.

“Lewis is the best of all time, he did nothing wrong, everything is red bull's fault.” you say again and he keeps looking at you.

You keep joking, acting like you are typing a new email “Hey FIA, it’s Toto, please let us use the das. It's a great innovation and we are so smart to think about it. We are not illegal, or at least that’s what James Allison and Shov said. It’s not our fault that we are both smart and sexy. Thank you in advance.”

“That’s not what I said” he laughs

“I’ll need proof for that.” you say “Would I make a good Toto Wolff?”

“The best. I’ll be sure to leave you in my position once I retire.”

“What will Daimler say for that though?”

“You are doing your training so why would they have an issue?” he replies and you laugh.

“Isn’t this suite a bit too big just for you?” you ask

“You have the same one but yeah it is a bit big.”

“Mine isn’t as big.” you say “Most times I feel lonely in those suites. Mine don’t have kitchens though.”

“You cook? Too bad we have ordered already.”

“Maybe another time.” you say and you hear the door knocking.

“Quite fast.” Toto says and he stands up to open the door.

You walk around the suite once again and enter his bedroom and look at the open closet which is once again full of Mercedes button ons so you grab one and put it on. You hear Toto talking and you go back to the living room but he’s still talking to the person outside the door.

“I am kinda busy here Cynthia. I am sorry.” you hear him say

“Please Toto.” a female voice replies “Is there someone else? Is that why you ordered two plates, two glasses of wine?” she asks

“Cynthia I am in the middle of a very important business meeting, it’s about tomorrow’s qualifying and James is waiting inside to eat so that we can continue our meeting. Thank you for the service.”

“Will you call me when you are done?”

“I will be asleep when we are done.Thank you” he says and closes the door.

You stand there in his living room wearing his button up feeling stupid for believing this thing could go anywhere further.

“I should get going.” you say

“Now that the food is here?” he asks but you don’t reply, “Is this shirt mine? Are you going to take this one too?”

“I will get back to my suite and you can call Cynthia, or whatever her name is, and tell her that James is gone and that you are okay for her to come back and do whatever you two do together.”

“Wait, are you jealous? Of Cynthia?”

“I am not jealous, just not in the position to get involved with someone who’s fucking around with the girl who brought him room service 3 times.”

“I am not involved with her.” he says

“Well she seemed awfully too comfortable to be just a stranger Toto.”

“What do you want to hear?” he asks

“That you’ve fucked her?” you tell him

“We slept together once last year.”

“That’s all I needed to hear. Goodbye Toto.” you say as you walk towards the door, his shirt still hanging on your shoulders but before you can leave he manages to grab your hand

“I only saw her once this year and I just said hi. We hadn’t spoken since last year but as soon as I arrived she didn't stop appearing in my way. She had reached out several times since we left last year but I never got back to her.”

“So she’s nothing to you?”

“She was just a fling.” he replies and you turn around to sit on the dining table.

“Fine” you say, irritation apparent in your voice “Am I just a fling?” you ask yourself in your head so you decide to ask the same to Toto who is holding the pasta plates leaving one in front of you and one opposite to you on the table. He doesn’t answer, instead he does the same with the two glasses of wine. His silence makes you feel like his answer is not the one that you want to hear but as he leaves the glasses on the table he doesn’t sit down, he stays there towering over you and looking at you.

“If it was just a fling I wouldn’t risk destroying my team for it. Also I wouldn’t have done anything that I’ve done for you in any case.” he replies. “Technically you can’t even call it a fling because we only made out two or three times and we were drunk.” he says and just stays still “And still there are two glasses of wine that I ordered on that table. I am never going to learn, am I ?” he laughs

“Sorry ?” you ask but he leans in, reaches for your face and kisses you catching you off guard. You stay still in your chair as he sits opposite to you not saying anything

“The wine is red” he says then

“I can see that.” you reply

“They say that red wine can get you drunk easier.”

You try to understand where he’s going with this

“And?”

“We haven’t drunk any of it yet so we are sober”

“Why are you explaining this to me like I’ve never drunk before?”

“This is the most sober that I will be tonight and you said that I didn’t have the guts to make a move without being drunk.” he says

“You won’t get drunk with a glass of wine Toto.”

“I know I won’t but still I didn’t want you to blame this on a single drop of alcohol.” he replies and you smile and you start eating. No one talks during dinner but you are laughing at each other when you’re struggling with eating the pasta without actually making a mess. It feels natural to just sit there and eat with his company, like you are finally where you are supposed to be. For this moment you forget everything else and you focus on what you are currently living. After some time you both finish your food and you see Toto standing up.

“We should finish our wine on the couch.” he says, taking his glass and you copy his moves. He sits on the couch and you do the same but you don’t sit close to him. You rest your back on the couch arm and lay there putting your feet on his lap. He turns and looks at you but he doesn’t say anything. He rests one hand on your feet and he grabs his phone with the other one unlocking it and looking at his mails.

“Do you want to work?” you ask

“It’s Friday night so no.” he replies

“Then close your phone”

“What can we do instead?”

“Talk like normal people?” you tell him

“About?” he asks

“I am thinking of moving to Monaco”

“That’s a bold choice, have you thought about it enough?” he asks

“I have and I think it’s the best thing I can do to be honest, I have some of my friends there and I really want to leave home, I really can’t deal with Christian while he keeps treating me like this.”

“That’s good.” he replies “What about going to the factory ?”

“How are you doing it? You live in Monaco and you also have to go to England at the factory.”

“It’s really tiring to be honest, you need to have a place to stay close to the factory “

“I have my apartment in London available.” you tell him

“London to Milton Keynes isn’t that easy to do on a daily basis.”

“Anyways, going to the factory isn’t my main priority right now, I am not even on the team.”

“You are on Mercedes.” he says

“Is this an invitation to Brackley?” you laugh

“You swore it was just for a few races, not that you will be staying permanently”

“It was my masterplan to get hired by Mercedes.”

“We don’t want you with us.” he jokes

“Why?” you ask

“You are distracting the team Ms. Horner.”

“How am I even distracting the team?” you say whining “People don’t even know who I am except from you.”

“You answered for me.” he tells you “And now I have to deal with you walking around Monaco.”

“Oh sorry, I’ll cancel my plans then.”

“Oh no, Monaco needs a twist.” he says and you look at him but say nothing. He doesn’t attempt to start a new conversation, he just readjusts on the couch, grabs the remote and opens the TV. He navigates through Netflix’s homepage and you eventually make him watch a movie which he tried to convince you not to watch. Again, none of you speaks during the movie. Halfway through, you realize you’re far too invested in the movie and turn to look at Toto who is fast asleep on that same couch. You decide that there’s no point in staying longer in his suite and you remove your legs from his lap as smoothly as you can, you grab your phone and your shoes which you had earlier taken off and head to the door tiptoeing.

“Stay here tonight.” you hear his raspy voice which takes you by surprise and you almost scream

“It’s better that I leave, you are tired and need some sleep.” you reply

“There’s a spare bed if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“And there’s an empty suite down the hallway.”

“Come on, aren't you bored to leave when you can just sleep here?” he tells you and well, he’s kinda right. Plus it’s not like you don’t want to spend some more time with him and it would definitely be questionable if someone saw you leaving his suite at midnight. You don’t go back to the couch but you leave your shoes down while Toto eyes every single move you make.

“It’s quali day tomorrow, we need to sleep. Come on.” you tell him and you walk to his room. Seconds later he follows you and enters the room.

“I’m taking the left side.” you say and he smiles at you with a sleepy face.

“You’re sure you don’t want to sleep in the other room?” he asks

“It’s not like it will make any difference. Except if you have a problem.”

“No, definitely not.” he replies and both of you lay on the bed, facing each other.

“I’ll wake up earlier to go to the gym, then we can get ready and hit the track. We’ll have breakfast there.” he says and you nod. He seems very calm, eyelids heavy with sleep so you decide to lean and kiss him goodnight. As you come closer to him you can now feel his scent and warmth and you put your lips on his. The kiss is slow and sweet, somehow different from the rest that the two of you had shared up to this moment.

“Goodnight Wolff.” you say

“Goodnight Horner.” he replies and both of you drift to sleep.

The next day you wake up without an alarm and you find the bed next to you empty. You hear water running and figure out that Toto must be taking his post gym shower. You keep laying there and grab your phone to go through new updates and messages. Not a lot of time passes until he emerges from the bathroom wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist and he holds another one trying to dry the water off his hair. You admire the sight for a while and you say “Good Morning”. He looks at you and replies

“Good Morning Horner. Slept well?”

“Very much thank you” you say “How about you?”

“Slept really well, and I started my day with a good session at the gym with George and Lewis.”

“Oh that must have been interesting. I would have loved to join you three.”

“It would be funny to see their reactions.” he replies as he dries his hair on a smaller white towel while he’s looking at the nightstand on your right where his things rest . He tosses the towel he was holding on a white chair in the room and he approaches you. He climbs on the bed and puts one hand on the headrest while his other hand is stretching to reach the IWC watch on the nightstand. His already toned muscles are a little more observable now that he’s lingering above you. You draw a sharp breath at the sight trying to contain your thoughts and your self but you still look up and stare at him while he makes sure that he gets the watch. When he actually does, he looks down at you and he catches you staring.

“What?” he asks, staying still in the same position and you don’t answer but instead you scoff. You take a quick glance on his body and you let your instincts take over. You grab him from his neck and pull him down for a kiss. He immediately reacts by holding your face with his now free hand and he pulls you closer as he deepens the kiss and bites your lip. You melt into the kiss still laying down as you feel your heart racing faster than any racing car you’ve ever seen. Your breath gets quicker as you get the sheets out of your way trying to feel his skin on yours. Toto mutters “Fuck” in between your kisses making you a little crazier. He breaks the kiss and walks to the end of the bed, he grabs your legs and starts leaving trails of kisses all the way up from your calf to your upper thigh until he stops and looks at you, eyes full of lust. He lingers above you for a second or two and he looks at you intensely trying to make sure that he has your consent for his following actions. Once you understand what this is about you nod while you're trying to regulate your breath.

"Stay still for me baby" he requests and you try to follow his order by just laying there as he dives his head between your thighs. Your breathing gets faster and deeper as he works his way down on you making you feel like you’ve never felt before. You sense his smile while his tongue makes circles down on you. It’s more sensual than you’ve imagined it to be. And god the man definitely knows what he’s doing. He keeps going on for a while with the same dedication as he started and you feel getting closer and closer to your absolute limits. You look down on him as he now uses his hands on you, and you see him staring back. “You look so good baby” he says and all you can manage to say is his name followed by a moan. “Toto I’m so close. Fuck” you say out of breath and he dives in once again as if he heard the magic phrase. He works his magic and shortly after you probably have the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Then he stands up, his hardness still apparent. You manage to regain your strength and crawl at the end of the bed. “Time to take care of you love.” you tell him and he looks at you with a sparkle in his eye. You reach for his neck and pull him in for a long kiss as you move your hand down his torso and on his crotch. You feel him, how hard he is, and you’re secretly taking pride in your effect on him. You start touching him, trying to make him feel good in your hands. His breathing gets faster as you continue and you can sense him coming closer and closer. You want to give him your best so you slowly lean down but he stops you. “Let me feel you?” he asks, almost sounding tortured. You feel a burning desire in you. You’ve imagined this for some time. You cannot say no, not now. Instead you say “Yes please” and get on his lap. You kiss him, while you’re repeating in your head “i am actually fucking Toto Wolff”. You give him one or two strokes getting ready for him but instead of following he looks around, probably for protection. “I am on birth control” you tell him and he turns his attention back to you. You place yourself in the right position as you feel him pressuring your entrance. Once he’s in you start riding him until you feel yourself getting out of breath. All this time muttering his name like a mantra and he is just repeating something in the lines of “God you feel so good.”, both of you feeling like you’re in another world. As soon as he gets that you are tired he lifts you up and lays you down on the bed. Now he is on top and he’s thrusting in and out in a rhythmic and satisfying way. He looks you in the eye. It’s not awkward. Not even close. You both seem to enjoy it quite a lot. It’s not after a long time that both of you finish at the same time, in an almost poetic way.

Now both of you lay naked on Toto’s queen sized bed. No one is talking. You just lay on his torso while his hand is round your shoulders. At some point you decide to break the silence

“That was a decent start to the day.” you say and Toto looks down on you

“Beats the early gym session to be honest.” he says

“I would be angry if you preferred going to the gym with Lewis and George to having sex with me”

“If it wasn’t for the gym you wouldn’t be here now”

“You think it was the ‘semi naked with a towel’ appearance that made me want to sleep with you?” you laugh “I would give it to you any time of the day, even if you were wearing a garbage bag Wolff.”

“Nice to hear that you are unreasonably horny.”

“It’s not without a reason though. I think you’ve figured out that I do not consider you a bad looking man.”

“I have yes.”

“All I had to do is to just find the courage to just throw myself at you.” you laugh

“And you kind of had to be drunk to do so?” he asks

“Yes”

“Isn’t it ironic though?” he says “That we actually slept together during the moment of our biggest clarity and sobriety?”

“What is it with the philosophical questions Toto? I just wanted to have sex with you for a long time and I did.”

“Long time I hear?”

“Yes, are you surprised?” you ask

“No, just glad that I am not the only one. Was it good at least?”

“God Toto, you’re asking the cringiest questions.” you say “Yes, god, it was perfect.” you answer and you hear Toto laugh.

“Now as much as I want to stay here and repeat this through the day, we have to go to the track” he says

“Ah yes, I am dying to get some breakfast as well.” you say and Toto laughs

“I’ve already had mine” he says with a smirk and as soon as you get what he’s talking about you grab your pillow and start hitting him playfully.

“Come on, let’s get ready.”

A hour or so later, you find yourself parking a shiny black Mercedes at the track's parking area while being already disguised as your alter ego, full on Mercedes’ gear. Today you are wearing Toto’s shirt, which is a little oversized but you manage to style it in a great way. You grab your bag, draw a sharp breath and open the door. You walk to the paddock and scan your pass as you go totally unnoticed by people around you. To them you look like a regular Mercedes employee that they have no reason to care about. Little do they know that this is actually you. To be honest you kind of love the calmness of it, how no one is chasing you for a photo or a statement on a recent drama or event of the F1 world. You just walk unbothered. You get so caught up in that thought that you don’t actually notice how fast you got to the motorhome. You get in and put on your show, greeting the majority of your colleagues that also seem ignorant to your presence there. You go to the buffet area and grab a tray for your breakfast which you eventually bring to the small office that Toto managed to provide you. Once you settle in, you sit down to eat but you take a photo of the breakfast as a part of documenting that crazy weekend. You also decide to send the photo to Toto.

You

[photo]

Grabbed breakfast and brought it to the office. Drop by if you don’t have anything better to do.

Wolff

Just walked in. I’ll grab my coffee and be there in 5.

You

Cool.

Five minutes later you hear a knock on the door followed by “Miss Roosevelt it’s Wolff here.”

“Coming.” you say and unlock the door for him to come in.

“Hey” you say

“Hello” he answers and looks at the full tray “You got quite a lot of food there.”

“Yeah, that start to the day just opened my appetite.”

“That’s good to hear”

“So, what am I supposed to do today?”

“Well, practice starts in 45 minutes and then we have qualifying.”

“I am aware of the program, thank you.”

“You won’t let me finish my thought will you?” he says

“Sorry” you tell him and look at him

“I am thinking, maybe you can join me and Nyck in the garage for practice.” he pauses to think “And then you can take a look at the data before qualifying.”

“No I cannot do that” you say

“Why not? I know you can read data, you have the basic skills and knowledge to judge a performance run.”

“I don’t want to be involved with your data. It’s confidential.” you reply. It is actually crazy that Toto is okay with the idea of you handling the team’s data, as if you are not his number one opponent.

“I know it is. But I trust you, plus there’s an NDA that you’ve already signed. And the fact that you deny reading the data makes me want to give you access to them more than before. Because I know how serious you are about not leaking stuff.”

“Okay I will take a look, but only for a short time.” you tell him

“Oh and then I want you to do a tour to a group of visitors that will be coming to the garage.”

“Aren’t there people responsible for this?” you ask, reminiscing the fact that in Red Bull you have people who are responsible for the hospitality packages.

“There are but they are shitting their pants because Christiano is dropping by later.”

“Who is Christiano?” you ask, slightly confused

“Ronaldo” he replies

“He’s coming to the race?”

“Yes. He’s actually coming both today and tomorrow and the team is invested in doing everything perfect for him.” he says and you are still staring at him with your mouth open “We are a bit short staffed in that team so an extra help would be amazing.”

“Good. I’ll do that too.”

“Great, thanks love” he says and you freeze at the name but before it gets too awkward the door knocks.

“Toto, this is James, do you have some time to review the quali strategy?” you hear through the door

“Yes, I will be there in a sec.” he replies “Gotta go now, i’ll see you in 45 right?”

“Right” you tell him and he is out of the office. I

You spend the next 30 minutes scrolling through twitter and eating the breakfast that you got earlier as well as taking a look at Toto’s schedule for the day. Later on you leave the office, mask on once again, and make your way to the garage and to the top of the fantasy island where Toto and Nyck are waiting for the session to start. Both cars are in the garage waiting for a sign to leave once the lights at the end of the pitlane turn green and at the same time all the mechanics are making the final touches on the set ups. You greet everyone sitting on the fantasy island and put on the spare headphones as you did the day before. The session is done as usual, the drivers going in and out of the garage to change setups on the car to find an optimal one for the qualifying. Performance runs are also on the programme but only during the last fifteen minutes of the session. Everything concerning telemetry is being sent directly into Toto’s computer on top of the fantasy island as soon as each lap ends so that he can see how they are done and areas where they can be corrected. The session ends quicker than it usually does when you are at Red Bull because suddenly all the chit chat becomes interesting and not as boring as it is with Christian.

“P1 and P2 huh?” you ask him. Nyck is already out of the garage, something about having to talk to some foreign media made Toto let him leave before the small pre qualifying debrief.

“It isn’t bad is it?” he asks back.

“It is not for us” you tell him “ It is for the rest of the grid though. I bet Christian is fuming right now.”

“It is not bad for them. If we are in front they will have to innovate more to reach us. It motivates them.”

“I bet they are not seeing it this way though.”

“Is Christian really fuming if we finish in front in practice?”

“Yeah, he’s not a fan of coming second in any session of this sport.”

“Too bad for him.” he says and you laugh. At this moment your phone rings with a notification from the calendar app reminding you of an interview Toto has to attend.

“Oh, I am seeing now that you should be outside the media pen for an interview.” you tell him

“I am very much aware, thank you.”

“Well, why are you not there now?”

“I prefer to hang out with my beautiful assistant instead.” he compliments you

“Oh my god, shut up” you laugh and he does the same “Come on, interview, now!” you say as you tug him and try to push him to the corridor that leads to the paddock playfully.

“That’s unfair. I am the boss. You are not in the position to prohibit me from doing anything.” he laughs as he walks reluctantly to the paddock.

“Well, it seems like I am in charge of what you are doing so technically I am allowed to tell you what to do.” you tell him “I will be enjoying a cold cup of coffee in the meantime.”

“Once again, that’s unfair Horner.” he says the second part whispering so that people are not able to hear. “Also, you have work to do. The telemetry data is already in your email inbox waiting to be read and commented on, so if I were you I would actually save the coffee for later.” he says and you look at him flabbergasted. “Oh and as soon as you are done with that you have the little tour to do in an hour and a half. Take care Ms. Roosevelt.”

Before you are able to form a sentence he is already gone, more like running to the media pen. You on the other side, walk back to your office, open your new iPad and take a look at the data. The lap times look good, still slower than the lap time that you calculated the pole position would be on, but they look good. In the data you can see clearly that the engine mode is in a much less aggressive setup that you are sure will change during qualifying. You add some comments using your iPencil concerning parts of where you think the drivers can gain time, as well as some questions for the strategists and the mechanics. When you are done, you forward your notes to Toto’s email and check the clock to see that it has actually been 1:30 hours and that it is actually the time to go meet the people you will be giving your tour to.

You find them all standing on a circle by the garage entrance at the paddock, discussing, taking pictures and being excited. There are 5 of them, 3 guys and 2 girls, all of them close to your age. You approach them and greet them. One of the girls looks gorgeous. The boys aren’t bad either.

“Hello everyone.” you say “You must be waiting for a paddock tour right?”

“Yeah” one of the boys says and the rest of them nod.

“Okay!” you say in an excited tone, trying to engage with them. “I am Mindy. I will learn your names during the tour I suppose.”

“Nice to meet you” says one of the girls “Likewise” you answer “So, should we start? Are you all excited?”

“Very.” one of the boys says.

The tour starts and you take all of them for a walk in the paddock to see all the motorhomes and where you actually work and you are actually describing all the details about what you are showing to them. You take them by the media pen, where you spot Toto giving another interview for pre qualifying. All of the guys and the girls get very excited and try to snap a picture even from far away. Then you take them by the garage but just before you manage to get in, you receive a new notification on your watch

Wolff

Just finished the interviews at the media pen and managed to see your notes and questions on the telemetry data. I forwarded them to James and he immediately got back to me asking who made all those brilliant notes and questions. I guess you are wasting yourself with management, you should become a mechanic instead.

Oh I also caught a glance of you and the guys during the tour. I hope that you are doing alright. We don’t want to make Ritz’s employees sad, we still have a few days left before we check out.

You read the message and realize that the people that you’ve been interacting with are people working at your hotel. So you decide to stop the tour and actually get to know them.

“You know what? Let’s introduce ourselves before going into the garage.” you tell them and walk back to a bench located at the paddock.

“So as I told you before I am Mindy Roosevelt, I am currently working at Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 but my position is totally different to what I am doing right now. I am actually working as an assistant to upper management, but the hospitality team has a very special guest for this weekend and they were busy enough so you are left with me.” you say “Go ahead, introduce yourselves.”

One of the guys starts talking “I am Ahmad Hussain and like everyone here, I am working at the Ritz-Carlton in Jeddah. I am working as a cook in the hotel kitchen so everything that you’ve tasted in the past few days might have had to do something with me.”

“I loved everything that I’ve tried, thank you Ahmad.” you tell him

“I am Benjy Ayad, I am half american half saudi arabian and I am currently working at the Ritz-Carlton as an economics advisor.” he says

“Mohammad Dawoud, and I am working at the Ritz-Carlton in room service.”

“Oh, I will be requesting for you Mohammad.” you laugh and he takes a bow showing his honor.

“I am also working as room service at the Ritz.” you hear one of the girls saying. This time it’s the pretty one

“That’s nice. What is your name?”

“I am Cynthia Jones.” she says and you freeze as you realize that the girl standing in front of you has slept with the man you slept with this morning. Jealousy as well as curiosity are your main feelings so you ask for more information.

“Sounds very non-Saudi Arabian. Where are you from Cynthia?” you ask

“I am from the UK actually. I was born and raised there, my parents are British but all of a sudden I ended up here. I was looking for a position in management in some big companies here in Saudi Arabia and I got this job as a part time until I figured things out but I ended up staying for two years.”

“That’s crazy. And why management? Do you have a degree?”

“Yes, I actually do. I got my degree in Switzerland and I tried pursuing it but right now I haven’t found anything that I like.”

You nod in agreement, trying to register all the information that you’ve learned from her directly. Toto was secretive about their relationship so learning even the slightest about her is important. Finally you turn to the last girl left

“Alina Mohammad, I work as a receptionist at the Ritz. Nothing to know exactly. I was born and raised here and I got a degree in touristics so I got the job of my dreams.”

“You guys seem really happy with what you are all doing. I hope you keep doing what you love.” you say “I mean you all managed to buy a paddock pass that most people wouldn’t dream buying at what? 24?”

“No actually we didn’t buy a pass, the team invited us to join today’s action.” says Benjy

“Oh shit, I didn’t know that.” you say

“Yeah they came in last night and handed us the passes just before our shift ended. We went crazy.” says Cynthia and you look at her.

“Sorry Cynthia, if I may ask, what time do you finish your shift on average?”

“I don’t know, maybe like 11pm or something? Yesterday I finished at that time.” she replies. At this point you are now sure, Toto asked her to come there today. There’s no other explanation. As soon as he saw her he wanted her to come back. That’s why he invited her. It wasn’t planned for you to do the interview, but he changed it to make you interact with Cynthia, to actually hurt your feelings.

“Mindy, is everything okay?” Mohammad asks as you have totally zoned out

“Sorry, I spaced out for a bit. Yes, everything is good. Shall we continue with our garage tour?” you ask and they nod. You go back to the garage trying to explain as many things as you know about the things there. To be honest, your mood isn’t quite the same as it was before you knew who the beautiful blonde by your side was. Luckily, the tour comes to an end 30 minutes later but sadly it is qualifying time so you have to be by Toto’s side by the time the session starts. Cristiano Ronaldo is also there by Toto’s side. You nod and greet him as Toto introduces you and you just get back to work.

During qualifying you sit there, not talking, just looking at the screen and the timings and occasionally checking your burner twitter account for any comments. Although you are pissed at the man next to you you definitely don’t want Mercedes to qualify in bad positions so through Q1 and Q2 you are relaxed since it is obvious that both cars will be through to Q3. During Q3 you keep your fingers crossed and mostly during the last runs for pole position you keep praying as you usually do in Red Bull. When the timer runs out Lewis and George are sitting P1 and P2 respectively, locking the front row for tomorrow’s start and as soon as the team figures it out, the whole garage erupts in cheers. Toto reaches Ronaldo for a handshake, celebrating the results. Your eye catches the guys from earlier cheering and hugging each other, taping with their phones. Toto turns to you and you do a high five with him as he smiles at you. You remain indifferent in his reaction, keeping yourself busy until George and Lewis are back to the parc ferme to congratulate them. Once you are done with that you simply say goodbye to everyone there and leave.

You go back and grab all your things and without saying a word to anyone you drive back to the hotel. When you are ready to go back to bed, you see a new message

Max Emilian Verstappen

Where are you? I missed you on track these days.

You

Sadly Christian thought it was a fair deal to throw me out of the team for god knows how long.

Happily for you I will be out of your way for that time so you will relax.

Also congrats for the P3 today, it was a decent run but the mercs had the pace.

Max Emilian Verstappen

Oh Christian…

Shut up, I already miss you. Are you in England?

Thank you H.

You

I am in Monaco, at a friend's house.

You feel kinda terrible for lying to him but there’s not much you can do.

After you chat with Max for a while, you order some food to eat but then get another message.

Wolff

Lost you after qualifying and when I asked they told me you had left. That wasn’t a bad result.

Anyways I am going back to the hotel and I am planning to order something to eat, you can hang around my suite if you want and we can discuss strategies for the race.

Let me know what you are about to do

You

I’m not feeling very good, sorry.

And tomorrow I will be coming in late, probably an hour or so before the start

Wolff

Okay. Do you need any help? Should I drop by your suite?

How am I supposed to work without my assistant?

You

I am not your main assistant Woff, you have a hundred people helping you, me not being there won’t be a huge issue

No, don’t come.

Just let me fucking be for once okay?

Later on you see that he read the message and didn’t reply. You take a hot bath and go to sleep for tomorrow.

You wake up the next day pretty late but just in time considering the fact that you are planning to leave in 2 hours. You order breakfast to avoid having something at the track and start getting ready as you are waiting for room service to arrive. You eat and then leave.

Since you left the hotel earlier your time of arrival is estimated earlier than you actually planned so you decide to take a drive in Jeddah’s streets to soak in the country. An hour or so before the start you actually arrive at the track. You park your car and walk to the hospitality. Then you lock yourself in your office and just read notes for the race. Later on you hear a knock on the door.

“It’s Wolff” you hear him say and you open the door even if you don’t want to. You don’t speak. You stay there and look at him. “Are you feeling okay?” he asks

“I am okay, yes.” you reply “Do you want anything else?” you ask him since he’s standing there just watching,

“Why are you acting like this?” he asks

“Like what?”

“Like Christian Horner’s daughter?”

“Yeah, you should be expecting that since that’s exactly who I am”

“You haven’t been like this since Bahrain.” he says

“Well if you don’t like it then you should call Cynthia.” you tell him

“Is this what this is all about? Are you jealous?” he asks

“Listen Toto, if you want to discuss this I will discuss it outside this office please.” you tell him

“Okay then, follow me.” he says

“What? Now?”

“I want to solve this right now if it’s okay.”

“The race starts in 30 minutes.” you say

“It will take less than 30 minutes, follow me” he says

Both you and Toto walk in the motorhome before he manages to open a door at the end of the hallway. You climb off the stairs and you reach a place somewhere in between a wall and a closed section of the motorhome.

“Speak” he says

“Bossy much ?” you ask

“Yes, now please tell me how did the whole Cynthia thing reoccur after yesterday morning?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know.” you tell him

“I do not have a clue.” he says

“You don’t have a clue about inviting her here?”

“Who?”

“Yesterday you made me do a paddock tour to a group of people.”

“Yes, they were the Ritz employees, I am aware of that”

“So you are aware that Cynthia Jones was proudly here watching F1 and enjoying qualifying with a VIP pass right?”

“I was not.” he says and honestly he seems like he’s telling the truth.

“You didn’t see her in the garage?” you ask

“Well, believe it or not I do not see everyone who is in the garage.”

“You didn’t invite her ?”

“Nope.”

“She said that she got her invitation right after her shift ended. And her shift ended after you saw her.”

“I was aware that they were going to be here. Just not the names of who was coming. The hotel management was supposed to do a draw and pick 5 people to join us as a gift. It’s part of our contract.” he replies

“So you didn’t know she was coming?”

“I am going to say no once again.” he says “You can search my messages if you want to.” he says as he hands you his phone.

“I trust you.” you tell him and you hand him his phone back

“After all I am not that big of an asshole to invite an ex fling and then sleep with you the next morning.”

“Don’t you dare do this again.”

“Invite people or sleep with you?”

“Oh Wolff fuck off.” you joke

“With you, gladly.” he replies

“Shhh” you tell him

“You are not going to shut me up this way.” he says and then looks at you “Also take off this goddamn mask now that no one can see us, I am tired of seeing you with it.”

You take of your mask and smile at him

“You’re sure that no one can see us here right?” you ask and he nods.

You lean on him and kiss him, catching him off guard. He returns the kiss as he smiles in it .

“I am sorry, Wolff. I won’t overreact about Cynthia again.”

“It’s alright Horner.” he tells you.

“The race starts in 15, should we go?”

“Let’s go.” he says and both of you walk back to the garage and your usual places.

At the start of the race both Lewis and George start off well, keeping their initial positions with Max lurking just behind George. Standing next to Toto, you have access to everything on his computer so you see lap by lap each and every thing you’ve learned to look for in order to plan a strategy in your head. When things get tough and Max gets behind Lewis in P2 your brain is running as fast as it can. The Mercedes strategists are proposing possible pit stop strategies based on the data that they have. However they don’t know one thing that you do. As an executive at Red Bull you have to be aware of code phrases over the team radio, which to be honest can’t be forgotten in a day. So as you’re seeing in the data Lewis is trying to manage his tires and you hear the message “Okay Max, it seems like we are going for a one stopper here.” , you feel the bells ringing in your head.

The “It seems like” phrase is a code name for doing exactly the opposite that the phrase says so you are 100% sure that they are going for a two stopper in order to win. Something that Mercedes has done countless times.

Toto had told you earlier that if you want to intervene you can press the button and speak but he thought that you wouldn’t be crazy enough to actually do it. When you crack the code of the Red Bull strategy you immediately press the button saying strategy and speak.

“Red Bull is going for a two stopper.” you say and Toto looks at you with his eyes wide open. “In about 5 to 10 laps they are going to be back on the softs to chase us. I would suggest pitting Lewis for a second time, turning the engine up and trying to chase him.”

“Are you sure?” he asks

“The “It seems like” is the key phrase Toto. Please let Lewis know. ” you tell him

“Okay. Do what she said. I am waiting for your calculations. Get back at me in two minutes.” he says while pressing the strategy button

“Thank you.” he says.

Later on it seems like Red Bull is caught off guard by Mercedes’ move and they try saving it as well as they can but they fail. At the end of the race the checkered flag is out and Lewis wins the grand prix in Jeddah.

“Yes boys, come on. Amazing strategy” says Lewis through the radio as everyone in the garage is celebrating. George finishes P2.

“Thank you for the amazing drive Lewis.” says Toto

“Get in there Lewis!” says Bono through the radio.

Toto turns to you and says thank you while he’s off to congratulate the other team members. After Lewis gives his post race interview to Naomi Schiff, you storm off to the pitlane to watch the podium ceremony. Max is also there and he seems a bit disappointed by his streak of P3’s during the season, but you’re barely worried. Right now you are celebrating about Lewis and George. You take your phone out and snap a picture or two. After the champagne opens and the trophies are given you go back to your office and lock yourself there once again. You’re hearing all the congratulations from people in the hospitality center and you sit on the office couch feeling that happiness and euphoria of winning. You haven’t spoken to anyone since the race ended but you are now just laying there happy. A long time after, you hear a knock on the door. You’re sure it’s Toto since the race debrief and the interviews must have ended by now. You ask who it is though.

“It’s Lewis. Can you please open up?” he says and you freeze, stopping dead in your tracks. You put on your mask and you open the door.

“Oh my god Lewis hi. Congratulations on your win.” you tell him

“Thank you Mindy. It’s Mindy right?” he asks

“Yes it is.” you tell him

“And you’re a Daimler intern?”

“I am yes.”

“Can you please take off your mask so that I can remember your face?” he asks and at this point you are pretty sure he knows that you’re not who you say you are.

“I am sorry but I am at great risk, I don’t want to get COVID or anything.” you tell him trying to avoid the situation.

“Don’t worry, I am wearing masks and I also tested negative this morning, so you can take it off.”

“Is it okay if I don’t want to?” you tell him

“Yes it is.” he says and he turns to face the door, finally going to leave. “We will be outside celebrating the 1-2 with the team, it will be amazing if you come, even for the picture.”

“I am not sure I have to be there.”

“I know you had something to do with that win, this strategy didn’t make itself Horner.” he says and you freeze as you register how he called you.

“Excuse me?” you tell him

“Next time that you fight with Toto, don’t do it outside my driver’s room Horner.” he says. “I know what happened between you two, I saw you without your mask and I saw you kissing my Team principal, there’s no denying.”

“Shit. Toto said no one could see us.”

“I could see you but Toto thought I would be at the grid by then when I clearly wasn’t.”

“I am sorry. You can’t say this to anyone.” you tell him

“I don’t plan to, I just find it funny that you switched teams.” he says

“Yeah, I had to because my dad’s an asshole.”

“Okay, now you get what everyone’s saying right?” he laughs

“Yeap.”

“You should come outside, let’s celebrate. You earned this victory as much as I did. Plus I want to have you in the picture. You can wear your mask.” he says and he extends his hand to make you stand up from the couch.

“Okay” you say and you walk with him

“Oh and by the way, Wolff is heads over heels for you, I am pretty sure he’s liked you for a long time and he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. That Cynthia thing is completely bullshit.”

“Really?” you ask him and he nods smiling.

Both of you walk outside to celebrate that amazing day with your amazing achievements. Mercedes really feels like home for you. Toto’s eyes light up when he sees you outside, in between the mix of employees. He stands by your side for the photos and then all of the team starts playing with champagne. It’s a really great night in the desert that makes up for the craziness of the weekend which makes you relax ahead of the new week coming up.

#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff fanfic #enemies to lovers ig #f1 #all's fair fic

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hereticpriest · 3 months

Text

The Bath

MDNI

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Baron Helmut Zemo x reader

Warnings: Cockwarming, mentions of previous violence between the two before their relationship began (he's a villain, they're ex-SHIELD guys c'mon), reference to a break-in.

Note: Liebling = darling, liebchen = sweetheart, bärchen = cute bear.

There are no rose petals in your bath.

Early on, your love had tried his best to be romantic, creating a path with rose petals to a large claw-foot tub that was absolutely teeming with them. The water was lightly fragranced, and while it had been the perfect temperature, you were covered in petals afterwards, including in some places that petals truly did not belong. You hadn't complained - you'd never put your sweet Baron down for trying to do something romantic for you - but he had somehow known how much you disliked them.

No, today, your bath is fizzy and bubbly from bath bombs. The shimmery swirl of the water doesn't bother you in the same way as the petals, and steam gently drifts from the surface to show it's the perfect temperature. You sigh blissfully, letting your lover take your robe from you and press kisses along your shoulders while you kick your slippers off into the corner out of the way. Zemo hangs up your robe for you, then takes your hand to help you into the clawfoot tub, a smile overtaking his face as you sink into the water with a happy moan.

"Good?"

"Perfect." You correct him, "Or, near enough."

"I love you dearly, liebchen, but I do not enjoy boiling quite like you do." He retorts, bending to kiss your forehead, then leaning against the counter in his adorable little silk robe. You pout at him, and he pouts right back, mocking you playfully. Eventually, as the water cools to a normal, livable temperature, he approaches to nudge you forwards and slip in behind you. You're both clean - freshly showered, but needing some intimacy and relaxation after a long, long day. Once he's settled, he lifts you carefully, holding you steady above him as he runs the head of his cock through your folds, then pulls you down into his lap, impaling you upon him. You curl into Zemo's arms, leaning against his chest and letting your eyes close, satiated in your fullness. It's been a while since you've been able to do this. He's been gone for nearly two weeks on a mission he's been very hush-hush about, but he returned to you unharmed, and that's all you can ask for. The hours of running around town with him after picking him up at the airstrip at the crack of dawn because you couldn't help but want to be there with Oeznik when he landed had certainly taken it's toll on you.

"Will you read to me tonight?" You ask him, and he squeezes you closer, tracing his fingertip over one pert nipple, then cupping your breast in his hand.

"Have I ever said no?"

You smile.

"Shortly after we first met. It was very rude of you, bärchen."

Zemo rolls his eyes at you, but his smile is fond as he presses it to your temple.

"You were very rude, liebling. You punched me in the throat." He reminds you, and you grin to yourself, pressing your bottom back into his hips.

"You broke into my house - how was I to know you were with my friends? Anyways, you've long forgiven me. I hardly think you were even mad, my love, you were rock hard when you pinned me to the wall. In my own home. That you had just broken into." Your voice is playful, and Zemo groans against your shoulder, knowing he has lost. It had been rather rude of him.

"Little did I know that the little ex-SHIELD agent would bend over my counter for me the moment we were alone in Riga. Besides, Sam told me that they called you." His stubble rubs against your neck, and you sigh, letting him rock you ever so gently as you take comfort in his arms.

"Excuses, excuses."

#helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #female reader

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cas-backwards-tie · 8 months

Text

Chapter Two: The Deal and A Meal

Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

The Missing Title

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Summary: After rounding up the entourage and getting debriefed on the mission, Madripoor and a woman named Selby await. Despite not knowing much about the place, it seems someone has a plan and it’s made clear what part you’ll have to play.

Words: 7.5k

Warnings: Insecurity, Sexism, Dubcon, Threats, Violence, Cursing, Illegal Activities, Guns, Attempted Assassinations

A/N: I intended to originally go through all of the second episode within this chapter, but it turned out to be way too long, so I had to cut it short and split it up into two (possibly three knowing what I plan for the next chapter) parts. It'll be fun though, I know it! (aka the 'meal' part of the title might have been previously in reference to a certain someone.) and thank you again to @imamotherfuckingstar-lord for essentially beta’ing for me ❤️

After a stale biscuit offered by the elderly gentleman you've come to learn is named Oeznick, and a glass of water, you'd fallen asleep. The flight passed fairly quickly, and it wasn't until you were an hour outside the drop-off point that a warm and sturdy hand placed itself upon your shoulder. "wecken," an accented voice meets your ears as you stir from your peaceful nap.

"Rise an' shine," Sam's voice calls from off in the distance. Eyes blinking open you follow the calloused fingers up to its owner, surprised to find that it's the Baron who's woken you.

"When you're ready to change, I've placed your outfit in the lavatory," Zemo explains, hand lifting from your shoulder to gesture where the aircraft's restrooms are. Upon righting yourself, you find Sam running his hands down the lapels of his suit. With your half-awake state you're unable to bite back the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Hey, I didn't pick this, okay? If you wanna thank anyone, thank the maniac over here- better yet, thank Buck since he's the one who got us into this mess in the first place." Sam turns his argument on his counterpart, the mischievously playful twinkle in his eyes landing on the man still sitting in his seat from earlier. Leg crossed over the other, small notebook open in his lap, Bucky raises his gaze to your friend.

"Yeah, like you wouldn't be doing something just as-- if not even more--dangerous if it weren't for my idea," the soldier retorts.

"So I'm hearing that this maniac is actually perhaps saving you some grace?" Zemo chips in, a smug look upon his face.

"Ha, you wish," Sam's voice bites back as you shake your head in amusement, exiting the cabin.

The lavatory is far more immaculate than you'd anticipated, the sleek shedua door leading into a room bordered with, and a sink cabinet made from the same polished material. There are rolls of towels sitting on a shelf beside the sink. Eyes taking in your groggy features reflected in the back-lit mirror, you don't spot the outfit until your eyes see a pop of color. Dangling from a hanger placed on the hooks at the back of the door is a satin cherry red dress.

With gentle fingers, you run them along the soft fabric. It happens to be one of your favorites, even if you're sure many people enjoy the smooth touch of it. Though you may consider whether your undergarments will work with this outfit--let alone if it'll even fit you--there's no better answer than seeing for yourself. After all, Zemo had said that this was for you. There's no other wardrobe in here, so it's not like you can pretend otherwise. It only takes a second to double-check and make sure you'd locked the doors and there are no cameras or an unfortunate happenstance of a double-sided mirror. With everything in the clear, you quickly undress, partially excited by the thought of trying on such a sexy and luxurious dress.

As you tug it up in place, shoulders supporting the straps, you're careful with it, not wanting to mar or maim it in any way. After all, it's not every day you're handling such expensive things. Initially, you'd been concerned about your undergarments, and while your bra straps are showing, it seems that simply tucking them beneath the draped fabric lining your chest doesn't leave behind a visible trace of the economic brand you own. The only issue is what follows next. Upon zipping up the back as high as you can, you find that the dress is snug against your curves. While that's not a style you usually go for and leaves you feeling somewhat exposed, you don't mind the way it looks on you.

Vision set on the mirror again, you find yourself running your hands down your sides as you take it in. The red material definitely contrasts against your skin, making your features pop in a different way than the more plain clothes you'd previously been adorning. Doing a slow spin, you take it all in; that's when you notice the issue... your panty-line is visible. Not to mention, the dress has a pretty high slit that ends just below the middle of one thigh. This realization causes the faint smile that'd appeared on your lips to turn downward.

Nevertheless, you continue. After all, that's only one hangup; there's plenty more to be done. Luckily, you'd brought some makeup with you. At the time you hadn't been sure why, but now the last-minute item you'd thrown in your duffle has clearly come to use. Though there could be debate on what sort of makeup style would look best in not only your picked outfit, but for whatever part you're playing. Escort? Lover? Arm Candy? Prostitute? You decide for yourself. Going for a classic smokey eye, eyeliner, and red lipstick, you make sure you look every point the part you're to play.

It's then that the final pieces come into play. There'd been a black cardboard box lying on the counter. Inside, you'd found a pair of black high stiletto heels which had a diamond encrusted floral-looking pattern attached to the back. Lips parting in a silent "wow," you can't help but enjoy them. The shoes fit perfectly, to your surprise, and while everything is in place, you decide that you're finally ready to return to the men.

"Holy...." Sam draws out the syllables as his mouth hangs open. Bucky's eyebrows raise as his blue gaze rakes over your body, taking in all the details.

"du siehst-" Zemo shakes his head, "wunderschön aus," he comments. Gloved hands tugging on the lapels of his coat, he clears his throat before turning his gaze back upon the men. "Hopefully everything is to your liking." While he doesn't look at you, the comment was in your direction, that much you know. Bucky nods in agreement.

"Never seen you so dressed up before," Sam teases, a playful smile arcing across his lips.

Eyebrows raising in surprise and amusement, you lift a finger to beckon him over. Sam obeys. "Firstly, you've seen me at the annual galas many times- and-" you clear your throat and quietly lean toward him, clearly going to whisper something. Sam recognizes this and lets you have access to his ear. "There might be a slight problem." The hint of concern in your tone is what makes him lean back far enough to gauge your reaction.

"Oh no- what is it?" He asks, not bothering to lower his voice. This comment garners the attention of everyone in the cabin, all the men turning their gaze on you. With a swallow of the anxiety rising to your throat, you try not to crumble under their gaze. Bucky senses your nerves and looks back out the window. Zemo turns his gaze away just enough to let you two remain in his peripheral vision, but make you think otherwise.

A hand gently gripping the bicep of Sam's suit, you lean in again. "You..." you sigh, turning your face away for a moment to gather yourself, "can see my panties. Clearly. I-"

"Okay-" Sam interrupts, instantly retreating from your touch as he puts his hands up. "I don't really need to hear about that, but I'm sure it's fine! It's fine- no one will notice." With a speedy glance toward the problem, his lips purse into a line. The reaction is what causes the men to return their gazes upon you, clearly left out of the loop.

"I don't- I don't know what to do about it," you whisper-yell in Sam's direction. With another look away from the men, your hair concealing the embarrassed look on your face, you gather yourself again. A sigh escapes your lips. "I don't know if I should-"

"What's the issue?" Zemo asks, clearly piqued in interest. While his hands clasp together, you can't be sure if you've offended him by the slight raise of his brow, or if he's simply determined to resolve whatever it is that's bothering you. Lips parting once more, your eyes turn back toward Sam.

"Don't look at me," he reasserts, hands raising in a childish manner. It's as if he's pawning you off to some strange man. You suppose he is, though you know how close he and Bucky are. Is Bucky a better judge though? A better critic of this? "I... think you actually oughta ask Zemo. He'd probably know better- no offense," he turns the latter half on Bucky. Almost as if he'd been on the same trail of thought as you.

"How can I help?" Zemo questions again, taking a step toward you. He tilts his head slightly, clearly trying to deduce the problem as he gives you a once-over. Nose wrinkling up in embarrassment, you let another sigh escape you before letting your head fall for a moment. Clearly, you have to do this. It's fine, though... or at least that's what you keep reminding yourself over and over again in your mind. With a raise of your hand, you summon him over. He obliges, leaving a little space between you as your relationship isn't as close as yours and Sam's. Albeit you'd have thought the man who's more like a brother would be more willing to help and hear out an embarrassing problem than a stranger. Obviously not, it seems.

With a mindless quick lick of your lips, you step closer to the Baron. Closing the space, you place your hand on the bicep of his coat as you lean in to whisper. "I... might have an obvious panty line problem. I don't know if I should take them off, or... I don't know, I mean- there's the slit, and, what if I-"

The touch of his leather-gloved hand resting on your bare arm makes your words come to a stall. "You don't need to worry, Liebling. If you want to dance or are afraid of exposing yourself, you can have my coat. I would, however, suggest taking them off for the mission, at least. Unfortunately, it would raise questions and look out of place for..."

"For...?" You pressure, wanting to have asked him earlier what part it is, exactly, that you'll be playing.

"For a high-end escort," he answers. "If this makes you uncomfortable, you may see if James and Sam are willing to let you await us at the meeting spot." Removing his hand, he remains in the closeness you'd created, wanting to be available for further conversation. However, you're all well aware of the approaching landing.

A shake of your head reveals your answer. "No, I'll do it. I just wasn't sure if that was the best option, or..." your words trail off and you give him a shrug of your shoulders. He nods in understanding.

"Problem solved?" Sam asks from the seat he'd retreated to during your exchange with Zemo. While his eyes (and Bucky's) never left you two, he had no doubts that you'd be able to come to some sort of compromise. A huff of annoyance leaves your lips at Sam's attitude. You roll your eyes in his direction before turning on your heels and heading back to the lavatory.

The last thing you hear before getting out of earshot is Zemo questioning Sam on why he couldn't have an adult conversation with a woman he's so close to.

________

It looks as if it's just rained, and while it smells somewhat revolting there's nothing you can do besides follow the men. Lagging a few steps behind (considering your heels) you can't take your eyes off the magnificent lights. The architecture something to be admired along with the mountains in the distance surrounding the city. Boats sit anchored all along the bay, and you wonder if they're night-fishing, or perhaps partying since the boys had claimed Madripoor was something of a party city when you'd been briefed earlier this afternoon.

"We have to do something about this, I'm the only one who looks like a pimp," Sam complains. "At least you look, fashionable," he gauges your expression, rolling his eyes upon noticing your amusement.

"It's not that bad," you offer, hoping to make him feel better considering he needs the confidence for this plan to work.

"Only an American would think a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you're supposed to be playing," Zemo states. Your lips part in shock and awe. He's not wrong, however considering who he's responding to, his comment might be a little out of pocket. The generalization of Americans is something you try not to take personally.

Before you can comment on who truly looks like a pimp amongst your group, Zemo continues. "The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger." Tearing your gaze from the water once more, you find that Zemo not only has a phone but is handing it over to Sam.

"He even has a bad nickname," Your friend complains. Tilting the phone so you can see the image, a laugh bursts from your lips. "Hell, he does look like me, though."

"Can't deny that," you add on. If anyone's getting credit, it once again is Zemo. While Sam had criticized Bucky aggressively, you're starting to see why perhaps the Soldier went through with his plan. Continuing down the pavement, heels clacking against the hard material as your eyes roam the expanse of the bridge and city before you, the accompaniment of boots wetly stomping against the ground gives some sort of comfort. You're on your way, this will all be over before you know it.

"You smell this?" Zemo breaks the silence.

"Yeah, what is that? Acid?" Sam questions, indulging the conversation.

"Madripoor," Zemo answers. As a vehicle approaches, the ride Zemo had ordered not long before, he speaks again. "No matter what happens we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There's no margin for error."

If you weren't nervous before, you were now. Although your intrigue about he smells and Zemo's nonanswer have left your mind, you know that anxiety won't help anything. No matter what happens, you have to act believable. Do whatever it takes. There's a reason you joined this mission, and there's a reason Joaquin asked you to help out. The car pulls a U-Turn and stops just a few feet away.

"High Town's that way. Not a bad place if you wanna visit," Zemo says, "but Low Town's the other way."

Anger once again infiltrates your system. Not only is Zemo giving out nonanswers and advice, you've walked over halfway down the bridge to High Town for what? Only to go back the way you'd come? As your mind starts to run over the possible reasons, you've been left no time to think as Bucky opens the door to the back of the car.

"And let me guess, we don't have any friends in High Town," Sam states. From your peripheral you see Zemo shake his head. He, of course, takes the passenger's seat. Most important people up front, you assume. While Bucky waits for you to get in, you slide into the middle and buckle up. Once he's in next to you and shuts the door, you're half-minded to thank him, but remember your rules: stay in character. If you were really the Baron's plaything you'd know that the Winter Soldier was nothing but something akin to more of... a doll, of sorts.

As thunder rumbles in the sky, you're glad that you guys had gotten in the car long before it started raining again. After all, your hair and makeup need to be presentable for this to work. The mindless soothing gesture of running your hands along the soft satin material of the red dress the Baron had picked out grounds you. As the ride passes you're simply happy to take in all the new scenery around you, admiring the nice vehicle's interior along with the way your acquaintances are dressed.

You hear the sound of motors before you're able to see them. While you can't exactly see the side mirrors of the car, you know there's more than just one on each side. As Sam looks around, so do you. Something sinks in your chest; whether it's fear or dread, you can't tell, but considering you're unsure who's manning the motorcycles now surrounding your car, it seems warranted.

Perception is a funny thing; everyone has their own, yet they're all vastly different. Self-aware people are hard to come by. In fact, you'd seen reports that only twenty percent of people are self-aware, while the outlying eighty percent goes through life blind. At least, that's how you'd surmise the data. Why is it funny? Well, it's simple. Everyone takes in certain things, and while you've always been once to take in all the fine details, there's another phenomena that sometimes follows secondary. Dissociation.

While the process is usually brought up as a form of coping with trauma, it never truly goes away once it comes up. Coupled with anxiety, time seems to be slipping away like a blur. Soon enough you're following Zemo down a walkway, focused solely on staying close. Upon approaching a series of stairs, you're standing over an enclave of Low Town. The lights, stalls, vendors, people, and activities all at a good viewing point from here.

Unaware of the fact that you'd stopped until Smiling Tiger bumps into your shoulder, you're shaken out of your stupor. He wasn't the only one to notice, however, as the next thing you know Zemo's taken ahold of your hand and is escorting you down the steps.

"Stay with me," he instructs, determined dark eyes searching your face. At the bottom of the stairs he tugs you by your hand in the direction you suppose the location.

He doesn't seem unfazed, yet the task of mentally processing your surroundings and staying in character almost feels like too much. Maybe this is why you were better off behind the scenes on most projects. It's the sight of guns, within view, at access, in foreign and unfamiliar territory that's doing this, you're sure. Though the thought that Bucky and Sam are there is somewhat comforting.

Following Zemo under a blue and purple neon sign in the shape of a screaming monkey, you can't help but smile. It's uncalled for, surely, but with all the conflicting emotions going on within your gut, you aren't too focused on your reactions.

Zemo says something, and you're sure it's Russian, however it's only the last word you can makeout as something that sounds like "Soldier" that lets you know he isn't talking to you. Walking through the crowded bar, Zemo releases your hand, only to wrap his plush-coated arm around you, keeping you close.

Though you're aware of the eyes falling upon your group, you don't entertain them, nor the whispers you start to hear filter up into a murmuring. It seems as though Zemo has a plan as he marches right up to the bar with you.

"Hello, gentlemen, and lady. Wasn't expecting you, Smiling Tiger." The Bartender greets, putting down the glass he was cleaning.

"His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby," Zemo states. Eyes drifting up to his face, you offer him a coquette smile before turning it onto the Bartender in hopes of enticing him just slightly. After all, your mother always said that honey works better at trapping flies than vinegar.

"The usual?" The Bartender asks, suspicious eyes turning on Sam. Luckily, the man instantly plays along and nods. Taking in the blue lights that shine down from the truss they hang upon, your eyes scan the walls which you now only realize are made from something other than simply art. With inspection, you come to see they're the skulls of what you can only guess are monkeys. Which makes sense, considering the sign you'd seen outside. Zemo orders you both a round of shots, clearly focused on business.

Hand finding the Baron's gloved hand which still lies on your waist, you unravel yourself from his hold as you turn in his grip to lean against the bar to face him, hand still attached to his. With a moment to breathe, you join his hand with your other, both hands playing with the glove, one hand's fingers running along the length of his arm.

As Zemo turns back to look at you, he's distracted by the sight of what the Bartender is making. A split-second look of stun turns into a smirk as the man releases an amused "Ah." With curiosity, you'd followed the Baron's gaze, only to be equally, if not more stunned. "Smiling Tiger, your favorite." Noticing you, Zemo can't help but let out a laugh.

Met with a gutted snake, you can't help as your eyes widen and lips part. It only takes a second to follow suit as you turn to Smiling Tiger and offer a slightly amused and tight-lipped smile. "I just never get used to it," you comment, playing along.

As the Bartender slides over the shots Zemo had requested, the Baron picks them up, offering one to you. Faces turning to Sam, you both take stock of his reaction. One of you is seemingly challenging him, while the other is offering as much support as they can through their guise.

"I love these," Smiling Tiger states with confidence. Zemo raises his shot to your friend, you following suit before clinking glasses with your fake lover.

"Cheers, Conrad," Zemo announces. Downing the shots, you both return your gaze to him.

"Mmm," Smiling Tiger hums in anticipation, lifting the shot for a moment before he grimaces and hesitates. Just when you're about to encourage him, the man downs it in one go and doesn't make a face. Another faint hum of what you assume is truly disgust, but comes across as an unsettled stomach or perhaps going down the wrong way emanates from the man. With a thumbs up toward the Bartender, the man looks skeptical for a moment before turning and helping another customer.

Eyes still on Sam, it isn't until someone approaches your left, practically invading your personal space that you right yourself. Zemo's hand shoots past you to push you behind him as he squares off against the man. "I got word from on High. You ain't welcome here," the man states.

The Baron makes a noise of intrigue and thought before clicking his tongue against his teeth. "I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me..." a slap of his gloved hand against the bar brings everyone's attention to his gesture toward the Winter Soldier.

"New haircut?" The man asks, turning his attention on the Winter Soldier, who stares him dead in the eye, unflinching.

"Or bring Selby for a chat," Zemo threatens the man. Hands moving to rest on Zemo's back, you pretend to comfort him, offering your physical touch as some sort of grounding, or at least a reminder that you're there. He looks between the Winter Soldier and the Baron for a moment before leaving. Zemo shakes his head, to which you retract your hands, unsure if he's bothered, annoyed, or something else entirely.

"A power broker. Really?" Bucky asks, annoyance obvious in his voice.

"Every kingdom needs its king," Zemo explains, resting against the bar, himself, "Let's just pray we stay under his radar."

"Or hers," you challenge, joining him in leaning against the bar, even if you're really gauging the other side of the room and its crowd.

"Do you know him?" Smiling Tiger asks as he turns to be the lookout this time. "Or her?" He adds for your benefit, as you share a knowing look.

"Only by reputation," Zemo answers, turning to look at Smiling Tiger. "In Madripoor, he is judge, jury, and executioner." Clearly, the Baron seems to disagree with your theory. In earnest, it really is only a theory. People often underestimate others, and while there's a good chance only a man could survive the streets and business from what you've seen of Madripoor so far, you never know.

As you join suit and turn to look at your friend, it's only after Zemo calls for the Winter Soldier that you notice the person approaching from your left. As the Baron engages with Bucky, commanding him in Russian, you watch the man continue toward the former and extend a hand. Grimacing, you shake your head in a tacit form of advice. Of course, he didn't listen.

As soon as the man lands his hand on Zemo the Winter Soldier grabs it and backs him up a few feet. Eyes glued to the scene, you watch as Bucky easily throws the man to the ground and breaks his arm. People begin raising their phones to record the event as the man groans in pain on the floor. Another man runs at the Soldier to come to the groaning man's defense before throwing a punch. With a quick one-two combo, Bucky kicks him into another man who'd been coming to help.

It's somewhat shocking, watching the Winter Soldier throw someone onto a table. The table collapses and yet that's not where it's going to end, you can tell by the way Bucky continues stalking toward him. With a quick shift up to meet Zemo's face you're appalled to find him smiling. "You're not going to stop this?" You ask, momentarily forgetting your role. A doll of the Baron's would know what to expect... wouldn't they? Yet the thought hadn't crossed your mind. Hands reaching out toward the Baron's sleeve, there's a quick movement over Zemo's shoulder. Someone attempts to hit him, yet Zemo catches their arm and uses their momentum to push them toward the Winter Soldier.

Making quick work of the attacker, his body goes flying into a criss-cross metal beam before slumping onto the floor.

"Didn't take much for him to fall back into form," Zemo comments toward Smiling Tiger. His tone is almost amused, as if the thought was meant to provoke something from Sam. Taken aback by the quick spiraling of events, you jump as the Winter Soldier slams a man onto the bar and Zemo's hands simultaneously wrap around your waist. "Would you rather get what we came for, or be injured, even dead?" He whispers in your ear, nose nuzzling into your neck for a moment before he releases you, still keeping one hand on your waist.

The sound of guns cocking all around you makes your heart start racing as you force yourself to continue playing the part. Staring at Bucky's metal arm choking this man atop the bar, his hands attempt to scratch and claw for freedom to no use. You wouldn't be afraid of the danger, not if you were his lover. You'd probably get off on it, probably be used to it... something that to your character is entirely false. Stomach beginning to feel as though it's knotting up, you watch as Sam breaks character, hand shooting out to rest on Bucky's shoulder.

"Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us," Zemo murmurs through gritted teeth to Sam before commanding Bucky again in Russian. You think he's congratulating him, commanding the man's release? You aren't sure.

"Selby will see you now," The Bartender announces, eyes set upon your group as the man below Bucky's hand starts wheezing.

"Thank you," Zemo replies, nodding in the Bartender's direction.

In a matter of minutes, you've been led down corridor after corridor of sketchy, colorful doors and graffitied walls. With Zemo by your side, he keeps his hand snug on your hip as his arm snakes around your waist, keeping you close. Now that you're being led behind the scenes of the public fronts, you're able to see that things are much more dangerous than you'd been led to believe. Cages line the walls of one room, different pricey items inhabiting their safe spots. On tables there are guns, drugs, and more money than you've ever seen in one place at one time. Cameras line a row of desks, the security clearly high, and well needed if your parts are the type of crowd they normally get.

"You should know, Baron, people don't just come into my bar and make demands," a white-haired woman speaks from across the room. As the guard with some type of rifle stands aside, it's clear you've come to your stop.

"Not a demand, an offer," Zemo clarifies. As he sits across from her in an armchair, he drags you with him, placing you on his knee. This time you know the part you're playing, and with the physical closeness, you figure it doesn't quite look right. Backing yourself up onto his lap, you turn your upper body toward him, slinging an arm around his neck and bringing your head to rest against it so you can pretend to admire him.

"A lot has changed since you were here last. By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?" Selby, the only person you can assume is her, based on how she holds herself, asks. She's testing him, you know that.

From her question, you know now is the time you can play. "We don't talk about that," you bite. Eyeing the velvet, patterned suit she wears, you take in her leopard-print tie and snakeskin couch. In your opinion, it's all so tacky. A two-thousands sort of 'elitism' look. Outdated certainly.

Zemo's gloved hand pats your hip a few times, his brown eyes turning to you, brows furrowing just for a moment. "It's fine, Meine Süße," he responds, voice much quieter and gentler, "I have not seen Selby in a long time! The question is only reasonable," he announces, turning his attention back on her. With a shrug, he answers. "People like us always find a way, don't we? I'm sure you've already figured out what I'm here for."

"Now, who's this?" A smirk tugs at the corner of her lips before she points at Sam, not taking her eyes off you as she gives you a once-over. "You're taller than I'd heard, Smiling Tiger." With a playful motion of cat claws, Selby purrs in his direction before finally turning her attention back on the both of you. "What's the offer?"

"She's none of your concern. Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum," Zemo lifts you onto the arm of the chair before standing and rounding the chair to pat the Winter Soldier's arms. "And I give you him. Along with the code words to control him, of course." Running his gloved hands down Bucky's chin before jiggling it, you're stunned that the man hasn't broken once. "He will do anything you want," Zemo offers.

Selby begins to smile, and you think he's got her. "Now that's the Zemo I remember," she bemuses, to which, he grunts in acknowledgment, "I'm glad I decided not to kill you immediately-" she pauses, "-Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right."

The Baron listens, his face stoic as he walks your way. Plopping back into his seat, you let your hand snake its way up his shoulder and onto his collar as you play with the fluffy speckled fur.

"Now, you know I hate to ask things twice, but how do I know your little tramp won't go running around spreading things on the street?" Selby threatens. Eyes darting from Zemo to her, you can't help the way your eyebrows furrow and anger begins to simmer in your gut.

"Because she's not a tramp." Venom seeps from his voice. In an instant he's dragging you onto his lap again, gloved hand gripping your chin and turning your face to meet his. Without a moment to think he's pressing his lips to yours with a fervor you were entirely unexpecting. Gasping, you retract for a moment, eyes searching his for only a moment before you reconnect your lips. This is your part, this is what you have to do. You should've expected it, but here you are.

With the understanding that this is life or death, you know you have to make this convincing. As soon as he returns the kiss again, you revel in the way his plump and plush lips dance with your own. His hands slide from your waist downward, dangerously low, yet not quite touching your butt. You let yourself moan against his lips. While your dress is long, you're able to move enough to straddle him, even if it's tight. Noses brushing against one another as you both deepen the kiss, it's only once your lips part slightly, each of your breath fanning across the other's cheek in rapid pants that you find yourself grinding against him.

Upon realization you must've stopped, because it seems as though Zemo recognized your hesitation. Parting from the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours for a moment before lifting you again to rearrange you to sit across his lap this time. "I don't need to explain my relations to you, Selby, but I'll say this: if she's going anywhere, it's not without me." There's once again a determination in his eyes that you find yourself unable to tear away from. While you stare at the Baron, taking in every fine detail of his face, he doesn't meet your eye. Instead, his darkened eyes remain set on Selby.

"The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Doctor Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank-" Selby concedes, the mentioned named garnering your attention. "Or... condemn, depending on what side of this you're on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but...things didn't go as planned."

"Is Nagel still in Madripoor?" Zemo asks.

"Oh. the breadcrumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron," Selby taunts. Standing, she starts to cross over to the two of you, "And before you get all cute on me, don't think you can find him without me."

Suddenly there's a buzzing coming from Smiling Tiger's pocket. Everyone freezes. Eyes flitting to Sam, you don't dare break now.

"Answer it," Selby demands, "On speaker." The Winter Soldier crosses the room, now standing behind Selby, while she calls over one of her own guards. The biggest one.

"Hello?" Smiling Tiger greets.

"Hey, um, we need to talk about this situation. It's been drivin' me nuts," the voice of a female answers.

"What situation exactly are you talkin' about?" He responds.

"Are you high? You know what situation, it's the only situation me and you have," the voice retorts, getting agitated. Eyes on Smiling Tiger, you can still see out of your peripheral vision that Selby begins rounding the Winter Soldier, checking him out, you're sure.

"What situation, Sarah? Say it," Smiling Tiger demands. Sarah? That's... his sister. Shit.

"The damn boat. And watch your tone, okay? I let you slide at the bank," Sarah explains.

Selby begins to approach the armchair, the sound of something dragging across fabric makes you think she's grazing the chair to intimidate you all. Smiling Tiger scoffs. "The bank? Yeah. Laundered so much..." He chuckles as if he were doing his best 'villain impression' and not actually in a life-or-death situation. "Yeah, they'll come around."

"If that was the case, then why'd they dog you out, Big Time?" Sarah questions. This isn't good, this is poking holes in his character. You know this must sound suspicious to Selby. Eyes finally beginning to break, you turn your gaze toward Bucky for a second, his gaze unmoving, so you turn back to meet Zemo's gaze. His hand tightens on your waist.

"Yeah, you damn right I'm Big Time. You'll see when I have that banker killed," Smiling Tiger threatens.

"Cass! What'd I tell you about the Cheerios? I don't have time for this! Sam, I'm sorry- let me call you back." The beep of the call ending fills the room.

"'Sam'? Who's Sam?" Selby asks, eyes gauging you all. "Kill them!" The command comes quick, yet the bullet comes quicker. Glass breaks somewhere behind you and you're jumping in your skin. Sam goes for the man beside him, Zemo throws you off his lap. Bucky grabs the man to your left, knocking him out with his own gun before you're all running to the exit, or rather, the door you'd come in from.

"They're gonna pin this on us," Sam warns, back against the door as he's armed with one of the men's guns. Bucky stands lookout with the gun he'd picked up. Now you're panicking, wondering why the hell you didn't pick up a gun?! Heart thumping wildly in your chest, you run a hand through your hair, anxiety rampant.

Zemo sighs. "We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead," he directs. In an attempt to play nonchalant, you all exit the casino you'd entered and wind through the confusing corridors until you're back in the bar you'd come through originally. Walking out of the bar, you're doing your best to keep up in stride with the men as you're not as tall, and your strides certainly don't match theirs-- even in heels.

It's only once you're out on the street that you hear phones chiming left and right, everyone's eyes falling on your group. Motion from your right garners your attention and you stumble, a woman within a shop's window making a finger gun towards all of you and shooting you repeatedly. "This is not good," Zemo states. Almost at the crossroads just beyond the train tracks, the lights above you go out. Someone ahead of you starts unloading a clip, the banging of metal and clinking of empty casings ring throughout the air.

Everyone ducks, "Shit!" you hear Sam yell, while you'd made a noise that could only resemble someone being punched in the guts. A hand grabs yours and tugs at you. It's Zemo. Running after him, he guides you through the streets of Madripoor into an alleyway and around trash cans, litter, boxes, and through gates.

On the corner at a crossroads of which path to take, you spot quick movement from your peripheral vision on the left. Pushing Zemo into another alley, you hear a metallic boing echo, a telltale sign of ricocheted fire. Someone is clearly still following you both. His dark eyes widen in surprise, and though the moment feels drawn out as you both stare at one another, a nearby bang reignites his fervor. Tugged through the dirty, puddled streets of Madripoor. You're approaching another road when Zemo pushes you behind the wall of a deserted outdoor booth.

A gloved hand covers your mouth as the Baron crams himself between you, the wooden pallets of the vacant vendor stall, and the brick wall of the alleyway. There's a slight light flooding out from one of the apartments on the second story. In this, you see the wild look in his brown eyes. Ignoring the obvious closeness of your chests pressed against one another, and the rapid beating of your hearts thumping, you can't help but realize where your hands are. Having reached out in the heat of the moment for some sort of stabilization, your palms rest against the thick fur coat on either side of his hips.

Before you can question his intentions, the wet pounding of boots echoes down the alleyway. Whoever had been pursuing was running, only for their footsteps to stall. The constant pounding turns into an occasional splash as they step through puddle after puddle. Feet uncomfortable as Zemo's leg had wound up between yours, you slightly shift under his weight. He shakes his head, clearly worried about the person as their footsteps start to sound more and more distant. If either of you make a noise, they'll come back.

Luckily, they don't hear, it seems as the footsteps get more and more quiet, more distant. Though Zemo doesn't move. Another half a minute passes before he finally releases you, letting you exit the hiding spot first. "My apologies," he offers, clearly wanting to make his intentions clear. "I only meant to-"

"-Save us, I got it," you cut him off. "thanks." Not wanting to further discuss or acknowledge what'd just happened, you try to put it out of your mind. Ignore the flickers of desire that had bubbled up upon his proximity.

"Precisely," he adds. While it seems he wanted the last word, it doesn't go over your head how both of you seem to want to move on or change the topic. Refocusing on what's next, you realize finding Sam and Bucky might be hard given you're in unfamiliar territory.

Following Zemo through the streets, it doesn't take long for the nearby sound of Bucky and Sam bickering to alleviate your worries. Hot on their trail, you and Zemo give each other an amused look before running off in the direction of their sound.

"You seem to have a guardian angel," Zemo states, bewildered, as the both of you round a dumpster and meet up with the rest of your group. Relief fills you as you're more than grateful you'd found them and you're all still seemingly in one piece.

"Well this is too perfect," A feminine voice states from behind you. Upon turning you find that a gun's being held to your group, though more specifically, him. "Drop it, Zemo," she commands. The Baron puts his gun on the ground and you back up, watching as Bucky squints in her direction, while Sam raises his hands in surrender.

"Sharon?" Bucky questions. The name sounds familiar, though you can't place her face or name. The woman still approaches, gun aimed at Zemo.

"You cost me everything." Her tone is low... her eyes dangerous. She's clearly here for one purpose and one purpose only: she's going to kill him.

"Sharon, wait-" Sam begs, and you all find yourselves joining him in raising your hands in surrender. Placing himself between her and the gun, Sam defends him "-Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead," he explains.

"Well, that explains why you guys are here, and Selby's dead." Righting her head from having tilted it while assessing all of you, she continues to eye each one of you.

"So what are you doing here?" Bucky asks, daring to take a step forward. With the way there's still a pit in your stomach, it takes a moment to dawn on you. He's deescalating the situation; he's using a military tactic. Or perhaps a psychological tactic, you're unsure. Either way, he's doing something, which is better than you can say for yourself.

"I stole Steve's shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass-" she points the gun at Sam, then at Bucky, and finally Zemo. "-so that you could save his ass from his ass. Unlike you I didn't have the Avengers to back me up. So I'm off the grid in Madripoor," she explains. Doing mental calculations in your mind you try to place how a woman like this could have access to Steve's shield. That's when it hits you. Sharon Carter, the woman who'd been in a relationship with Steve for a while. You'd heard her mentioned once or twice by Sam and Joaquin, she held a high-ranking position in the CIA until... well, until the whole ordeal happened with the Avengers... with Zemo.

"Hey, don't blow smoke at me. I was on the run, too," Sam argues.

"Was. Is. Big difference. I don't speak to my family anymore. I can't. My own father doesn't know where I am," she clarifies, finally lowering her gun. With everything you've put together, it makes sense why she'd be angry at them. Hell, why she'd even want to kill Zemo, you get.

"Listen, Sharon we need your help," Bucky states, taking another step closer. Sharon chuckles, an incredulous look on her face you recognize all too well. They're asking for her help... again. After she says she's lost everything because of them. "Please," Bucky begs. Sharon sighs, and you finally feel your shoulders droop and relax a little. While you don't know her personally, you feel for her. With all that'd happened in the last few minutes it only comes to realization now how the guys had taken each moment of conversation during their attempts at deescalation to from a blockade in front of you and Zemo.

"This isn't over," Sharon warns, "I have a place in High Town. You should be safe there for awhile." With a nod of her head in the direction you'd come, Bucky follows her. You follow him, and looking back momentarily you spot Sam pushing Zemo.

~~~~~~~~

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undercoverpena · 2 years

Text

Interesting (ii)

interesting (i)

Baron/Helmut Zemo x Fem!Reader | 1.5k | Smut, you’re warned — not promising it’s the best, but I’m rusty with smut.

[gif not mine]

+++++++++++++

You should leave the room.

Cheeks warm, thighs pressing together. All signs you shouldn’t have even replied. Should have kept your mouth shut.

But you’ve already gone too far.

You could argue you did that when you kissed him to appease Selby. Not needing to sell it as well as you did, not needing to slide your tongue into his mouth or let his hands wander, scorching your skin.

The same way his eyes are right now. Them burning into you, making your throat dry, desperately needing to slide your thighs together because… you want him.

You want him to rip your clothes from you, to leave marks on your skin. You want him to pull on your hair and throw you over his shoulder and take you to his room.

Thoughts you shouldn’t have about the man you helped break out of prison. Thoughts that shouldn’t be summoned about a man who was dangerous.

And yet, you didn’t fear him. Not even a little bit.

You wonder if he expects you to leave, to shout at him.

A better version of you would.

An even better version wouldn’t have said anything, to begin with. You’d have taken the drink and then excused yourself.

Not give into your lust. Because that’s all this was. Lust.

He’s a criminal—a man who was able to impersonate your friend, who blew up a building. Whether spurred by loss and grief or not, he still did it.

It’s why you should leave the room.

Bury your face into your pillow and get yourself off. Not hope he’ll do it for you. Because you shouldn’t let him touch you.

“It’s not too late to run from me,” he says, wringing his hands in front of you.

Somehow, it just makes you want him more.

The challenge. The confidence. The fact it’s frowned upon.

Not helped by the fact he keeps staring at you. Likely undressing you, his words running through your mind.

It’s then you stand up.

Mustering some confidence. He doesn’t move when you stand up. Not even when you stop in front of him. He doesn’t reach for you, giving you a land chance to bow out, to walk away.

You don’t take it.

Instead sliding the hem of your skirt up with your fingers, sliding a thigh either side of his. Watching his eyes flash, him not taking them from your face as his lips twitch.

The warmth of his palm against your thighs almost makes you rock your hips. His aftershave, musky, and wooden, hits your nose as a strand of hair falls over his forehead hearing him clear his throat.

“It’s not too late to ask me to leave…” you tease, tracing your bottom lip with your teeth. “If you don’t think this will be interesting…”

He smirks, ever so slightly as his finger slides up to your hip.

“I was interested the moment my eyes landed on you.”

Your lips curl, eyes flicking from his lips to his eyes, watching him do the same as your body moves closer.

“Such a charmer,” you whisper.

Your hand finding the back of his head, nails digging into his hair as your mouth latches onto his.

He tastes like a mix of sugar and whisky, a muffled vibration as he groans fuck against your lips. You don’t fight it when he pulls you closer by your hip, desperately wishing his other hand slid further north on your thigh.

Your stomach knotting, warmth and need spreading through you. Suddenly desperate for friction.

Even more so as your body inches closer to him until there’s no space between the two of you.

The fur of his coat tickling your skin.

Practically feeling his heart thundering against yours as you lose yourself in him.

You welcome the way his mouth nips at the skin under your jaw, sliding his tongue up to the spot under your ear as you roll your hips.

For someone who has been locked up, and as someone who didn’t know you, he knew you. Letting you rock ever so slightly, his hand urging you to as you feel the outline of his arousal through his slacks.

And you let a whimper escape, just as both his hands snap to your hips, halting your movements. A stern look meeting yours, one you were prepared to protest.

Until he moves you.

Flipping you so your spine is against the sofa, hovering over you. For a second, you’re disorientated. Feeling your own lips remain parted, eyes staring up at him, frozen. Rendered useless as his eyes darken as he drinks you in.

“I should say,” he says in a low growl, “If there’s a likeliness that you’ll regret this, I implore you to tell me to stop now, Liebling.”

Watching his eyes trace your face, his finger sliding over your cheek, dragging it until it’s tugging on the bottom of your lip.

Your tongue peeks out, circling the tip of it.

Hoping it’s enough of a sign. A silent plea for him not to stop as he inhales, before clearing his throat.

“You’ve piqued my interest, Zemo. I need to know if you’re all talk.”

He laughs.

Low. Dark. One which makes you wet as he stares at you hungrily. As if he’s been hiding his thoughts from you until now.

“I assure you I’m not.”

You arch your brow, ready to speak. But, he slides two fingers in your mouth, pinning your tongue down.

“Shh,” he whispers darkly, “You’ll need your voice, Liebling. To beg me. To moan my name.”

Your cocky response falls from your mind. Mouth parting in surprise.

“Because I’m not going to stop until you’re calling me Helmut… and I suspect,” he continues in the same tone, pulling his fingers back, “It’ll take me making you come at least three times before you’ll even consider calling me anything other than the enemy.”

Fuck.

Almost choking on your own breath as his lips slide into a smirk.

And you guess he thinks he’s won. All set to reconnect his lips back to yours.

But, you smirk, before adding, “I hope you fuck as much as you talk.”

He smirks, but less cocky.

And then he snaps—his mouth against yours, groaning as he pulls your hips towards him. The two of you kissing with an intensity you imagine both of you have been running from, so much so, you groan against this lips.

Your nails claw through his hair, his hand snaking in between the two of you, making your mouth fall open as he slides his mouth down your neck. The feel of his touch in two places making you whimper.

Because you’re pinned, his body keeping you in place. Not able to move, or shift, to gain the upper hand.

And then he slides his fingers over your underwear, silently meeting your eyes, checking for permission—one you quickly give.

Your hand finds his shoulder as he slides his fingers inside your damp, silk underwear. His lips sliding into a devious smirk, ghosting his touch over you until you’re about to plead—to beg. Before he slides his fingers inside of you, filling and stretching you as your head falls back to the cushion.

And everything else around the two of you is forgotten.

Your brain forgetting you should hate him.

Just needing him, desperately craving more that he quickly gives you. Focusing on not moaning his name as he curls his fingers inside of you. His thumb swiping over your clit as you whimper.

You try to pull him down, needing to bury your moans against his lips. But he just watches. Eyes glinting, shimmering as he does so.

Occasionally teasing you by ghosting his lips over yours as you whimper more, and more.

“Sweet, sweet, Liebling. How long have you been craving someone to do this?” he whispers, darkly. His nose tracing your cheek as he inserts another finger. “A while I guess. I can tell. You’re so wet. So responsive. Look at me.”

And you do.

You meet his burning eyes with all you have. Not able to tear them away from him, unsure how you’ve let him command such power over you already.

“Is this enough? Or do you want more?”

Your mouth contorts, shapes and words want to blossom. Your mind rendering useless as you near your release.

Only able to mumble a mmm, wanting to say more.

Wanting to beg for his cock, wanting him to turn you over and fuck you until you forget your name.

And from the expression on his face, he can tell.

Zemo touching you with more precision, as though he has an end goal in mind, knowing he’s doing this to you.

You knowing no one else can do this to you. Hasn’t done so, as he said, in a while.

“For now, this is all you’ll have. Even if I want to fuck you on this sofa, on this floor. Even if I want you,” he continues, his free hand cupping your chin. “The wait is half the fun. Isn’t it?”

Your gasping, so close and he must know it from the sounds falling from your lips.

“I want those three, Liebling…”

Because even if you want it, even if you need it, you’re fighting him.

“So you need to let go now, before they’re back—your friends,” he adds, his eyes burning into you as you fight how good it feels. “Unless you want them to see you like this. Being a whore for me.”

“Fuck,” you groan. Swallowing his name. “Plea–please.”

Not wanting to think it, never mind mumble it. His name so close to the tip of your tongue.

His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing small circles as you clench your eyes shut. Your back arching, fingers digging into his side as he twists his fingers inside of you, hitting that spot you’ve been internally pleading for him to touch.

“You should give me the first one now, Liebling.”

And you do.

Your eyes shutting, your head swirling with pleasure. Your back arching into him, your moan filling the room as he continues his ministrations until your hand tries to push him away.

But, he only stops when your hand unclenches from his side, and then his hand falls from between your thighs. Pressing a pleased, chaste kiss to your lips as your eyes slowly blink open as you watch him stand, shaking his coat from his shoulders before folding it slowly.

Your eyes falling to his bulge, before studying his movements as he places the coat down. Adjusting himself as he licks his lips.

And then he pulls you up, catching you as you almost fall on shaky legs. Barely recovered from what he’s just done to you.

“Two to go, Liebling.” Your chest rises and falls, heat blossoming across your cheeks. His knuckles brushing your cheeks. “Now, go to my room, and strip.”

Clearing your throat, you suddenly find your voice again. Brain coming back to you. “And if I don’t?”

Helmut slowly retracts his hand, before pulling you flush against him by your hips, nose against your ear.

Feeling how hard he is. How much he wants you.

Ignoring the little quake in your legs even with him holding you.

He pushes your hair from your cheek, smiling as if he hadn’t of just made you see stars. “I’ll strip you here myself, and let your friends find you cock-drunk and spent on this expensive, but dusty floor.”

His hand retracting, burning his brown eyes into you as he smirks.

“You’ve got until the count of th—“

You move.

Your fingers are undoing your zip, hearing him chuckle—hearing his footsteps. Knowing he’s following close behind—heart in your throat, excitement bubbling in your stomach.

Opening his door, stepping through as you pull clothes from your body until cool air meets your skin. Turning to face him, eyes drinking you in.

And you’ve never felt hotter, never felt more attractive.

And then he slams the door shut behind him, his hands on you once again.

#Helmut Zemo #Helmut Zemo x reader #Helmut Zemo smut #baron zemo smut #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader smut #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x fem!reader #zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #zemo x fem!reader #zemo x you #zemo x y/n #daniel brühl x reader

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writteninsaturn · 2 years

Text

stolen glances [helmut zemo x fem!reader]

summary| ✏ you have loved Helmut since you both were kids, so you couldn’t resist yourself when proposal arrived from the Zemo family for your hand in marriage, even if Helmut doesn’t feel the same way about you.

warnings| ✏ angst, fluff, smut, inaccurate marvel reference (very inaccurate, I just used marvel names to my liking), inaccurate nobility and morganatic marriage rules reference (I know nothing about noblemen), idiots to lovers, arrange marriage, pining explicit language, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering.- 18+ ONLY • MINORS DNI

word count| ✏ 9.1k *click the bold words for little visuals regarding the outfits. thought it’d be fun.

a/n| ✏ this one’s been long time coming. And I feel like my writing was a little all over the place so I sincerely apologise for that. But I do hope that you enjoy even if it’s very little, you have some enjoyment while reading this. But yeah once again, hope the warnings are appropriate, if you do think it needs a few more, let me know and I’ll add them. Feedbacks are always welcome. I will try my best with the next one and will try and make sure it doesn’t take a year again before I post another piece. I hope you can leave a like and maybe even a reblog. I appreciate you all so much.

It was quite a common thing for noble families to have arranged marriages rather than love marriages back in the days. However, such traditions were considered quite backdated and not followed anymore. I mean why should such outdated customs be followed, one shouldn’t be told who to love, they should have the freedom to choose. And arrange marriage in the 21st century? Anyone would think one must be joking.

So, when the news of Sokovia’s most eligible bachelor, Baron Helmut Zemo’s marriage being arranged to you, the Countess of Symkaria, was announced, a wave of shock and heartbreak fell over the land. Ok, more jealousy and less heartbreak perhaps. You see while the Baron was single, there was hope for all the ladies, but with the announcement, all hopes and dreams came crashing down.

Despite the mass disappointment of the ladies of the land, one couldn’t say that they were surprised by the union. Or maybe even a merger perhaps. It is only natural the Baron would agree to marry someone of a high stature, and it must’ve been a strategic and political move to marry someone of a higher nobility standing than him. That’s what the people talked about, and that’s what you thought too.

You see, you’ve known the Baron since you both were young. Whenever your family visited Sokovia, you stayed in Castle Zemo and when the Zemo family visited Symkaria, they stayed at Y/L/N Manor. Both your parents were friends from well before you two were born. However, that never raised the idea that you two would be getting married. Both your parents wanted to give you both full freedom to marry who you wished to. This was mainly why you were a little surprised when your parents told you that the Zemos wished for your hand in marriage to Helmut.

Despite growing up with Helmut, you two never grew up to be quite as close as your parents. As kids, you two always played together, but the as you grew, not seeing each other for long periods of time before meeting again, both of you grew into your own worlds. And while your infatuation and love for Helmut grew with you, Helmut was much more reclusive, busy with his education and learning the workings of his land and his people from his father.

Every year you managed to take a trip to Sokovia, you’d immerse yourself in the day to day life of the castle. Not behaving like a guest, but a part of the family. The family treated you as such also, Hilda Zemo being like your second mother. Everyone in the Zemo Castle was especially fond of you and your antics. You could often be found in the kitchen, helping (eating whatever you could find) in the kitchen. And no matter how much, Idel, the aging cook, scolded you, she knew it was useless and that you would go around doing your own thing. And if not in the kitchen you were with the younger housemaids, who you’ve befriended over time. And if you weren’t found creating ruckus around the castle, you were in some corner either with Hilda or Heinrich, just chatting away.

And no matter what you were doing around the household, running around helping the house helps in the kitchen, or having a heart to heart with Hilda, or just discussing world politics with Heinrich, whenever Helmut walked in the room, you became mute. Everyone in the household took notice of that real quick, and would tease you about it too.

However, when Hilda took notice of how you act in the presence of Helmut, she became worried. Hilda saw you as her daughter, and because how close you were to the family, she did not want to see you get hurt. So one afternoon, while you two were having tea and playing with the residential kittens in one of the balcony in the castle, she decided to bring up the situation. “Y/N love, what is going on between you and Helmut?”

This question startles you, because you genuinely thought you were doing a great job of concealing your feelings for the man. Avoiding eye contact, and giving all your undivided attention to the little snow looking kitten aptly named Snow, the Zemo house pet, you answer, “Nothing’s going on Hilma you know nothing’s going on. We barely talk.” You always said how she was like your second ma, and so, she became Hilma.

“Lovie I see how you look at him. I am worried about you. You know I can’t force him to be with you don’t you?” Hilda spoke softly.

You only nodded slowly, replying in an almost whisper, “I wouldn’t want that. I would be gutted to know that he was with me because he had to be and not because he wanted to be.” You tried to master up the best smile you could, which, if Hilda was being honest, was quite lousy, looked up at her and spoke again in the same low voice, “I just want him to be happy. Be with a person who would make him happy. As cheesy as it sounds, his happiness will bring me happiness.”

Hilda could hear the heaviness in your tone and could only let out a sympathetic chuckle as she reached out to cup your cheek with her right palm, rubbing her thumb over your cheek gently. “My little Y/N is all grown up.” You close your eyes hoping to hold back your slightly teary eyes from dropping any tear, as you lean into Hilda’s motherly touch. Despite your attempt, a tear escaped your closed eyes. Hilda gently wiped away the tear before pulling you in for a warm embrace, whispering in your ear, “You deserve all the love in the world my dear. And while that may not be my foolish Helmut, I know you will find your Count.” She gives your temple a firm kiss and rubs your back before letting you go once she is sure you are a little more stable.

The little emotional confrontation with Hilda happened when you were still a young lady in your teen years. And while you knew what Hilda spoke was true and you may never be with Helmut, that did not stop you from doting on Helmut. And over the years, your love for Helmut only grew despite the unescapable tragic end that it would reach. So imagine your surprise when the proposal for your marriage arrived from the Zemo family.

Your parents were more than happy about this union and was over the moon when you also agreed to the proposal. Invitation was sent for your family to come to the Zemo family for the festivities and a grand function for the engagement. In your heart, you were convinced that Zemo was not marrying you for love. Being a countess, you received many proposals from noblemen all around the world. You rejected them all, waiting for your Baron to marry first. Holding on to the final drop of hope. So despite being so very elated when the Baron chose you to be his baroness, you knew this marriage was to solidify the ally ship between the two nations and that you wouldn’t become the baroness but Helmut would become the count. So whether it was to climb the social ladder, or to formally become allies, you were happy to oblige to your Baron’s wishes, even if it meant that he would never love you.

When you and your family made your way to Sokovia, in preparation for the festivities, you were greeted by a large crowd. The word had gotten around that Helmut was to be engaged, and despite the green monster that had taken over the region, the secrecy of who was engaged to the nation’s most eligible bachelor kept everyone on their feet. The funny thing was, you weren’t much of a secret as everyone thought you to be. You grew in front of the nation as much as Helmut did and they all knew you equally. So when you were the first to step out of the car, and people got the first glance of their Baron’s to be, knowing whispers erupted amongst the crowd. It seemed very trivial now to even expect anyone but you to be stepping out of that car.

The people of Sokovia loved you. So when the news of your arrival as the one to be engaged to the Baron spread across the land like wildfire, all but few jealous noblewomen were joyous over the occasion and the choice. In the lead up to the engagement ceremony, you and Helmut were invited to various different events together, to get the people accustomed to seeing you two as an unit and also to give you two some more time to spend together before the official engagement. From charity events to dinner party hosted by the prime minister, at every high society event leading up to the engagement ceremony, you and the Baron attended hand in hand.

It was at one such event, your love for Helmut grew, if that was even possible still that is. The event was a fundraising for disadvantaged children. With Sokovia being a developing nation, not all children had equal opportunity, and Helmut felt very strongly for the wellbeing of the children of his land. So much so, that he was a large benefactor to the charity, so he was invited as the guest of honour for the evening.

While the original invite list did not include you, with the event being held annually and the invite having been sent out well in advance, whether or not you could be accommodated to really wasn’t up for debate. With you having attending so many events back to back, most of the outfits you had brought with you had been worn, and while no way were you a diva who never wears the same outfit twice, there was an expectation for the formal events, particularly being attended within such short intervals, that the outfits seem to have not been worn before. And so you were in complete panic mode on what to wear for tonight. With how hectic things had been, you didn’t even realise earlier that all your gowns had been worn, so you couldn’t even get an outfit prepared and fitted in time. To be fair, you weren’t prepared to be making appearance at so many events during your visit and thought 7 gowns were more than enough.

As if the gods above have heard your panic and prayers and answered your call, because as you enter your room, venting your urgency and frustration to your mother who was remaining annoyingly calm and being of no help, you spot what you can only assume is a dress inside a garment bag containing the House Insignia, with a velvet box placed next to the bag and on the floor a box which you believe is possible footwear. You turn to your mother as a smile starts to etch itself onto your mouth, “this is why you were so quiet and just watched me freak out? You already had everything figured out?”

Your mother chuckles, before replying, “I may have been aware of something before you my child but no this is not my doing.” It is then that you realise that a little note is left on top of the outfit. You step forward and pick up the slip of paper and written on it simply was “For tonight. Z.” And you couldn’t help but smile at that. Even though the note was so simple and nothing special, to you it held great importance.

You opened the garment bag and the first thing you spot is the beautiful sheer high neckline with golden details almost looking like twigs. The further you open the bag, the more of the golden branches are revealed leading all the way down and once you’ve opened the bag completely, two little golden deer are revealed at the bottom of the dress. You run your finger over the stitch work, admiring the playful deer on the dress, loving the dress at the first glance. Your mum just leaned against the door and watched as delight took over your face.

You then reach for the shoe box, opening it to reveal the most beautiful pair of golden heels, vines and pearls wrapped around the heel. You kind of just stayed sitting there admiring the ensemble. Your mother chuckled again before calling out to you, “Ok dear that’s enough sitting around, now how about you get ready, it’ll be time for you and Helmut to leave soon.” And with that, she left the room, leaving you to get ready.

At 7pm, when it was time for you to leave, a maid made their way into your room informing you that Helmut was ready and waiting. You nodded in acknowledgement before gathering up your gown, slipping on the beautiful pair of heels, before heading towards the staircase. As you stood at the top of the stairs, you saw you Baron at the bottom, fixing his cufflinks, looking handsome as ever. You took a moment to yourself to admire him as he remained unaware. And slowly as you started to descend the stairs, the sound of your heels captured his attention, looking up the stairs to look at you, and just as his eyes locked at you, he froze. Now it was him who was admiring how ethereal you looked, while you were far too busy looking at the stairs as you took each step, to concentrate and make sure that you don’t trip.

As you descend down to the final few steps, Helmut shakes himself out of his faze and reaches his hand out for you to take, like the gentleman he is. Sensing his hand in front of you, you take your eyes away from the steps and to his hand, going to grab it. And despite all the caution you took, out of nervousness and excitement, you managed to foolishly misplace your foot and trip forward. For Helmut, it was almost an immediate reaction, throwing his other hand forward to rest flat against your tummy to hold you steady, landing you face to face with him, noses almost touching, and your eyes clenched shut. Helmut takes his time letting his eyes roam over your face, a smile reaching the corner of his lips before he speaks up in his gentle, husky voice, “Careful countess, we wouldn’t want you getting into an accident under my watch now would we?”

Feeling his breath against your lips, your force yourself to open your eyes, his lips being the first thing you see. You awkwardly let out a shaky breath before you gain your footing again with his support, before replying, “Thank you Helmut.”

Helmut only nods, and leads you down the final few step, letting go of your hand only for him to guide that hand to the small of your back in a protective manner, leading you out the front door and to the car.

The driver was waiting outside the grand entrance of the castle. Zemo subtly waved at the driver to move away from the door, which you didn’t pick up on. As the driver quickly scuttled away, Zemo led you to the car and as you lowered to get in the car, he moved his free hand to guard the top of the car from hitting your head. This you did notice and as you were getting in, let your head bump a little up so that you could have his hand brush against the top of your head. Zemo’s hand, however, tensed, worried that you may have hurt yourself, and as soon as you are in the car, he brushes his hand silently over your head almost like petting a pup. He then goes around to get in the car as well.

The entire car ride was silent, both of you stealing quick glances towards each other under your lashes, none the wiser to each other. As the car comes to a halt at the venue, Zemo hurriedly steps out of the car, not waiting for his driver, and walks around to grab your door and once again extends his hand to help you out. As you step out, Zemo brings your left hand to loop around his right, and his left hand resting gently on the back of your palm as he leads you down the carpet led to the ballroom. As you two walk down hand in hand, flashes go off from both sides, capturing the most anticipated couple. Zemo stops half way down the path, taking you by surprise, as he holds you close to him. You turn to him as if to question him “what is it?” but Zemo simply smiles with adoring eyes staring at you, making for another perfect photo opportunity for the eager media. And once Zemo is sure that there is more than enough photo of Zemo’s gaze on you for tomorrow’s tabloid, he simply shakes his head and continues to lead you inside, leaving you completely confused.

Throughout the night, you were next to Zemo like an obedient partner. There was no rule or clause that required you to be with Zemo constantly, you simply chose to be with him as he introduced you to many influential people. However, as the night went on, you happened to grow more and more detached from the political conversations that were taking place between Zemo and other men. Thankfully at that point, you see the children who are taken care by the charity being brought in to join for the dinner part of the function. You decide that is a perfect time to excuse yourself from the circle of elites and quickly make your way towards the group of about 10 kids ranging from toddlers to teens, who seems to be much more approachable than the very adult conversations that were happening around you.

Just as you reach the kids who were brought in by who you can only assume is their warder, you squat down to meet the kids on eyelevel, a wide smile spreading across your face as you introduce yourself to the group, as you ask them for their names. While most remained quiet, slightly intimidated by the unfamiliar surrounding, it is one of the young ones, a young boy with mischief in his eyes and a toothless grin gracing his lips who decides to introduce himself first, “Hi ma’am my name is Thor, I’m six!”

And before you can reply to “Thor”, you hear the warden clearing her throat before saying, “What did I say about fibbing Tim?”

To which Tim lets out a huff and replies, “Not to tell them. Sorry ma’am, my name is Timofie.”

You give Tim a comforting smile and repeat after him, “Timofie, meaning god’s honour, you are as good as Thor sweet boy.” To this, Timofie lights up and jumps forward to give you a hug as big as he could manage. Despite being small, the force he came at you with took you by surprise, and while you managed to wrap your arms around the little boy, your heels weren’t prepared for the little stumble, causing your foot to trip.

Helmut had been keeping an eye on you from the moment you left his side and when he spotted you with the kids, he also excused himself from the group to slowly approach you so he could hear your interaction with the kids better. He was near you when he noticed the little stumble and in a split moment he took one quick large step to stand direct behind you, to be your support and stop you from falling. You reached back with one hand to make yourself stable, your hand going to grab the support that was holding you steady from behind, Helmut’s leg. Once you were steady, you looked up to see who was the one to save you and as you looked up, you saw Helmut towering over you, looking at you with concern, asking “Are you ok Y/N? You really don’t seem to be too steady on your foot today.” There was a teasing tone to his voice as well.

You looked back down, your cheeks heated from the embarrassment of falling twice in Helmut’s arms in one night. “Thank you, Helmut, for saving me again.” You remember the little boy still in your arm and attempt to stand up with the little guy. Helmut immediately helps you from behind, pulling you up slightly so it’s easier for you.

The little boy now leaning his head on your shoulder, turns to look at Helmut. He then leans in your ear and whispering rather loud, defeating the purpose of a whisper, “Is he your prince?”

You turn to him with a questioning look, “Prince?”

“You are a princess so he must be prince.” Tim said as a matter of fact which caused you to let out a little chuckle.

“I’m not a princess sweet boy,” you say to him as you caress his cheek with your thumb.

Helmut from next to you surprises you when he speaks up, “yes she is the princess and I am her prince.” Timofie once again turning to him at this with a smile of admiration at the idea of being in presence of royalty, which the kids don’t know all too much about. All the other kids are now surrounding Helmut asking random questions and grabbing at his hands. Helmut leads the group of kids to the bottom of the staircase, signalling you to follow him. You both take seat at the bottom of the stairs, Timofie remaining in your lap while the rest of the kids are surrounding you two.

At Helmut’s introduction the kids get very excited to meet the man which the entire country has heard about, while not everyone has the privilege of meeting. The kids get involved in conversations and banter and even little games with Helmut. The once confident boy Timofie, now shying away at the competition which Helmut poses. While you take your time to admire Helmut with all the kids, you go back to your little world you’ve created with Timofie and a few other much young ones who are much too infatuated by you. Helmut from time to time turns to you, watching you playing with the youngest ones of the group, admiring how you are with the little one, unbeknownst to him, you are doing the same.

The entire night was spent like that for you two, with the kids, separating only during the actual auction, but finding your ways back to the kids during dinner, having dinner at the same table as the kids.

The charity event really caused a buzz around the nation, photos of you and Helmut with the kids not only plastered across every newspaper and magazine, but was also circulating on social media. You two as a couple was capturing the nation’s heart. Following the event, you had a new found love for Helmut. Which is a strange thing to say because Helmut always had your heart. But seeing Helmut with kids, that made you feel something in the pit of your stomach you never felt before. And the idea of a loveless marriage started a lot less bearable than it did before.

In the lead, up to your and Helmut’s engagement party, meeting between the two of you started to become a lot scarcer. You were busy with helping out with organising the event while Helmut was kept busy with official duties. So much so that you started to miss Helmut.

Slowly but surely, the day of your engagement party arrived and you had dress set in advance for this event. And more than anything, more than the party more than the people, more than the engagement, you were looking forward to seeing Helmut after so long, excited to have him next to you. You put on your beautiful emerald gown, a diamond necklace borrowed from Hilda and a pair of silver heels to finish off your look.

Once ready, you decided to head down to see how things were, if everything was organised before the guests came. Hilda told you that everything was being taken care of and that you did not need to run around in your gown, but you couldn’t be kept calm, it was your form of distraction until you could see Helmut.

Helmut finally did show up, before the guests also, you sensed his presence the minute he stepped into the ballroom, turning immediately to catch him looking handsome and elegant as ever, walking in as he fixes his hair. You see him spotting his mother and going to her immediately, b-lining away from you. You could see the two talk and laugh and perhaps a little scolding from Hilda, you couldn’t quite tell. You truly loved the mother son pair and while you were upset that Helmut failed to acknowledge your presence on such a night, it filled your heart to see how he was with his mum and you couldn’t help but think what a good father he would be, a possibility you might not have the good fortune of seeing or being a part of.

As it neared the time of arrival for the guests, Helmut finally made his way to you, “Come on, we should greet the guests” and that was all he said as he lead you to the entrance, a hand on your waist. You two greeted each and every guest with large smiles, a large part of it having to do with how close Helmut was to you. Helmut talking to some people he knew personally, you continuing to greet as well, Helmut’s remaining around your waist the entire time and you also took the opportunity to just lean against him, standing your body completely flush against him. All the guests gushing at the loving couple as they came in.

You both headed in once it seemed like most have arrived, heading in to mingle with the guests. Once again, Helmut failing to give you any attention, busying himself with the guests. It was Helmut’s parents who called upon the two of you through the microphone for the ring exchange. Helmut looked around for you as you already slowly started to make your way to the makeshift stage and people gathered around one side of the ballroom. Instead of heading straight, Helmut started to walk in your direction, catching up to you as you both make it to the front of the room together. You almost jump a little as Helmut reached your side, not expecting him there.

Rather than you two making any speeches, it was both your parents making the speeches. About how excited they were to finally become family, how their kids are finally all grown up, how they wanted this since you two were kids. And you managed to maintain a steady smile throughout the speeches, but your excitement for the engagement had been dwindling throughout the week leading to the day and also throughout the night as Helmut continued his cold shoulder to you for god knows what reason.

As the speeches came to a close, your mum handed to you the ring, which you put on Helmut’s finger absentmindedly and Helmut’s father handed the ring to him which he put on your finger ever so lightly, leaving a kiss on the back of your hand and heat rose to your cheek, your body reacting as it always does to any form of affection, pretend or not, from Helmut. The crowd erupts into loud cheers and congratulations throughout the ballroom. As you two stepped down from the steps, people came around to congratulate you personally. And as things died down again with the announcement of dinner being served, you managed to slip out of the room without anyone noticing.

Or so you thought. After being congratulated by friends, family, business partners alike, Helmut came to notice that he couldn’t spot you anywhere around. Throughout the night, whenever he scanned his eyes, his eyes picked you out amongst the sea of crowd immediately. I mean it’s hard to miss the emerald hugging your body so perfectly from back or front. As soon as Helmut had laid his eyes on you that evening, he started to feel constricted in his pants. He had missed you all week, busy with work, trying to clear out his schedule before the wedding so that he can help his wife to be with the planning.

But as soon as he saw you, he had to hold himself back, because he knew if he was to greet you he wouldn’t be able to control himself, and so he goes to only space he knows, straight to his mum. Helmut, distracted as his eyes remained on you, bumps into his mother as he reaches her. He quickly grabs onto his mother as he steadies himself and his mum sputtering out an apology as he quickly looks at her in embarrassment. Hilda looks at her son with a knowing smirk, “Is everything ok son?” and he can only nod and busies himself talking to his mother.

He was all too aware of his self-control, or lack there of, with how tempting you looked tonight and he actively worked to avoid you except for when it was absolutely necessary. He didn’t realise that in the process of keeping himself under control, he was driving you to self-doubt. Helmut’s search proved to be futile as he found you nowhere in the ball room, asking his parents and your mum, none being able to answer. He even asked few of the wait staff who were serving drinks around the room, and the only answer they could give was that they saw you leaving the ballroom.

Helmut followed their vague instruction and headed out looking for you. He jogged around skimming outside first. He peaks through the front door, not finding you in the front porch, went to the door leading to the backyard, not finding you there either or anywhere in the bottom floor. It really seemed silly to be roaming around such a large mansion so he stood by the steps and tried to think about where you could be. And his mind could only think of one spot, the common balcony upstairs where you spend time nearly every day with his mum or even alone reading a book. He’s spotted you there plenty of time in the passing and always would stop in his way even if for a few seconds to just admire you.

He quickly makes his way upstairs to the balcony and lets out a sigh of relief when he can see your silhouette in the darkness, in the balcony. He steps into the balcony and softly calls out to you, “Y/N… What are you doing here, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You quickly wipe at your eyes when you hear his voice before turning to meet him face to face, “Oh Helmut, what are you doing here? Did you need something?” Your voice sounding a little hoarse.

“What’s wrong? Why does your voice sound heavy? Have you been crying?” He steps closer to you, hands reaching out to touch at the corner of your eyes to inspect your face to which you only move your face to the side before letting out an almost mocking chuckle.

“Let’s not pretend that you actually care Helmut, there’s no one here. Did you need something?” This time your voice sounded a little more aggressive.

“Yes I needed my fiancé, I saw that she was missing from my side and I was missing her.”

At this confession you couldn’t help but look at him in disbelief, “Missing your fiancé? Oh you’ve got to be kidding me right now.” You let out an exasperated huff. “I’ve been trying to get noticed by you the whole evening only to get ignored and now you say you miss me?” Your tears are now freely falling. “I don’t know what I ever did to you Helmut to be mocking me like this. I know this situation isn’t ideal, I know that you don’t love me but I do. I love you so much, have since we were kids. But I never had any hopes or expectations. I didn’t know that a situation would arise where I could marry you but when it did, I couldn’t help it, I became selfish. Maybe that was my mistake, maybe I shouldn’t have been greedy and I am sorry for that but please, spare me my feelings. Don’t say things you don’t mean.” At this point you have completely let go of yourself, unable to control the sobs that are coming out.

Helmut reaches both his arms for your shoulder to bring you into a hug to comfort you, unsure of how to handle the situation, never seeing you quite like this, so emotional and speaking your mind. You violently shrug him off again, wiping angrily at your eyes, mad at yourself for letting yourself go like this in front of Helmut, before you speak up again. “I know what the answer is already but I need to hear it from you. I need to hear from you what this is, what we are. If you are marrying me for the alliance, and the status, I will be that for you, I will be by your side, smile at the cameras, push away my heart’s fluttering somewhere deep down that I even forget my heart exists. I can do that for you, I just need to hear it from you, so that I don’t hold any false hope.” You finally look at him trying to smile through the tear, “I promise you I will be an ideal countess for the people, a nice trophy wife for the cameras and events, and the ideal wife to you. I just need to hear you say that there is no possibility for me to ever become your baroness. Say it to my face and I will learn to be ok with it.” With all that you wanted to say now completely out in the open, you leans against the balcony railing, sliding down, kneeling on the floor, your whole body shaking from your cries as you are kneeling by Helmut’s feet now.

Helmut couldn’t take it anymore, your ramble had caught him completely off guard, having no idea that was how you were feeling, which was why his reaction was so delayed, hearing you speak what you had to say while he remained stunned silent. Finally feeling your body move by his feet, he is now also leaning down, cupping your wet face with his palm to lift your face up to face him. You keep your eyes shut out of complete shame of becoming so vulnerable. Helmut takes a moment to just look at your face, even as pain is etched across your face, your beauty radiates far brighter. Helmut leans into your face, unable to help himself, first kissing at the corner of your lips where your tears were gathering, your eyes immediately opening in complete surprise, and at that moment, Helmut captures your lips between his, both his hands coming to delicately cup your face as his thumbs are wiping at under your eyes at an attempt to wipe away your tears, now crouching down to be face to face with you.

Caught in a trance, and in the comfort of Helmut’s warm hands, you let him kiss you, but as soon as he goes to deepen the kiss, trying to force his tongue past your lips, you come to your senses, pushing away at his shoulder with all your might before speaking out a little too loud, “What are you doing? Stop it!” You shake your head as, starting to cry again, your body jerking, “I don’t need this Helmut, I don’t need your sympathy affection.”

Helmut grows a little frustrated at this, and pinches your cheek to force you to look at him again and this time, forcefully pushing his lips against yours and immediately shoving his lips

Helmut grows a little frustrated at that, forcing you to look up as he pinches your cheek between his hand as he brings your body flush against his with his other hand around your waist, “You fool, you absolute fool! How do you still not get it?” He drops his hand from your waist down to your exposed leg through the slit. Guiding it slowly up with feathery touch as he moves to kiss at your neck. Unsure of what Helmut meant, you completely melt at his touch. And as you feel his creep to the inside of your thigh, riding further up heading to your core, your find yourself moving your knees apart, exposing your core to him. And as his fingers finds his way to your covered and slightly damp centre you decide that you don’t know and don’t want to know what Helmut means but you are going to let him have his way with you, however he wants, and whatever it means at the end, you are prepared to risk it all to have him at least once.

As Helmut is kissing your neck, you wrap one hand around his neck. He uses his fingers to move aside your panties, sliding his fingers up and down your slit, pressing lightly at your nub. He keeps running his fingers up your slit, picking up the speed, and flicking at your clit every once in a while as he is sucking at your where your neck meets your chest. All you can do is hold him tight against you, or more so reassuring yourself that all this isn’t just another one of your dreams.

Once Helmut feel his fingers are lathered enough in your wetness, he slips it into your craving whole, three fingers at once. And immediately, with the resistance he felt on his fingers from the tightness of your walls and with and the way your head lulled back and a wince etched in your face, Helmut was sensing that this might be your first time and speaks, “Sorry did I hurt you?”

You being your stubborn self, shake your head no, afraid that if you let on that this is your first time, he will stop and you are not prepared to have this end so soon. Helmut picks up on your lie however, and he carefully pulls his fingers out, stopping when just the tip of his fingers are in you, pulling out two and going back in with just one. Making sure that once the finger is inside, he moves it around and curls it, feeling around your inside, the foreign sensation making you terribly weak at your knees. Now, even more carefully, Helmut adds two more fingers, picking up his speed, and rubbing at your clit with his thumb. At this, you let a loud mewl, Helmut immediately crashing his lips with yours again to swallow your moan.

Holding you flush against himself, Helmut can feel your lower stomach quiver as your mouth opens up against his, drool slipping past both your lips from the intense kiss. Helmut can tell that you are nearing your climax. Your head slips on his shoulder when you feel his fingers moving rapidly, you bite on to his shoulder to keep yourself from screaming as the climax takes over you. Helmut starts to slow down his fingers as he helps you ride out your orgasm. Helmut slowly You hide your face in his shoulder out of embarrassment for cumming so fast and whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Helmut is confused at that, “what for?”

And you are feel a little flustered at his question, stuttering out, “y-you know, for, like, cumming, like, really fast.” You were having a hard time articulating sentences, due to both embarrassment and the recent high. Helmut can’t help but chuckle, which does not help with your humiliation.

Without another word, Helmut abruptly pulls out his fingers, which brings you back to awareness, and you push yourself slowly away from Helmut, still on your knees, trying to regain balance. Helmut brings his fingers to his lips, licking each finger while looking at you. When you catch on to what he is doing, your eyes flicker to everywhere else to avoid his eyes.

As Helmut finishes licking his fingers, letting out in the most teasing tone “yum, I think I need some more, haven’t had my dessert yet.” As he pushes your tummy, catching your off guard as you fall back on your bum in the most ungraceful way, as your leg folds out as you try to balance yourself, with your arms falling behind you on the floor as you go to hold yourself up. Helmut laughs a little at the fall, pushing you further back by your shoulder, this time much more gently, until you are laying flat on your back.

Utterly confused by what’s going on, you let Helmut manhandle you to the positon of his liking, but can’t help the arch in your back due to the coolness of the tiled floor. He pulls both your feet out from under you, stretching them out, one on each side of his waist, your one leg completely exposed to him due to the slit, a bit of your pussy also peaking out. You can feel the cool night breeze against your exposed pussy, which is still a little sensitive after Helmut’s treatment of them.

You can feel Helmut shuffling around between your thighs, moving your dress up and to the side to have your pussy completely exposed to him. However, that doesn’t last long as your thighs instinctively shut, cheeks feeling warm even in the cold night. At this point you can’t tell whether it’s due to all the previous activities of the night or the current. Helmut does not appreciate how your thighs close up, obstructing his perfect view, and is pushing apart your thighs open, and landing a harsh slap on the inside of your thigh, far too close to your pussy, as the tips of his fingers brush against your pussy lips.

“You look absolutely ravishing tonight countess.” He speaks as he takes off his blazer, throwing it off to the side and is laying himself down so that his face can hover over your bottom half. Placing soft kisses along your hipbone, he continues to pepper little kisses all the way to the top of your mound. “I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off of your all night.” Another little kiss, a little closer to your clit. Helmut is looking up at you, only to find you already looking down at him with cautious and confused eyes, anticipating, his next actions, his next words, the lower tummy shaking a little as your breath quickens a little. “And you’d be an absolute fool to think, that all that I am doing is out of anything other than complete and utter desire.” He speaks as he keeps his eyes trained on your eyes, and he thumbs at your clit, pressing down on it before rubbing harsh circles. You bite down on your lips, your one hand going up to grab on to the railing of the balcony, gripping it so tight your knuckles go white. He can see you are getting wetter with every sentence he uttered, he leans down running his tongue from the bottom of your pussy all the way to the tip, sucking your clit into his mouth so harshly that it almost feels like a vacuum on your clit. Your arm flies to your mouth to keep your moans from getting too loud. “And judging from how much sugar you have for me my dear countess,” he continues to speak against your pussy that his voice comes out a little muffled, “I’d say you desire me just as much.”

He gives your pussy another wet, sloppy, open mouthed kiss, and is reaching both his hands up as his nose digs into your pussy, bumping against the nub of your clit, causing your whole body to shudder, as both his hands are reaching out to grab both your hand, one hand unclenching your hand from the railing, another being pulled away from your face, as he brings both your hands between your legs, leading them to his head, “I’m at your control Countess, guide me as you please.” And you instinctively grip on his hair lightly, feeling him take another lick of your sleek.

Helmut lets go of your hands as his hands goes to hook around your thighs. He darts his tongue out, dipping it right into your wet and inviting hole. Your grip on his hair immediately tightens. Helmut can’t help but smile a little at that, as he thrusts his tongue out and then right back in, but you were far too drowning in the pleasure to notice the smile against your pussy. Helmut moves his face around, nuzzling further into your pussy as the tip of his nose keeps brushing against your clit, causing you to jolt up and further into Helmut’s lapping tongue. He is swirling around his tongue, savouring all that is running out of your pussy. And as he moves his mouth up, and attaches himself to your already sensitive clit, giving it few harsh sucks, you become undone in his mouth. Your fingers grip onto his hair tight, holding for your dear life, pushing his face further into your climaxing pussy, as his tongue helps you ride out another high.

Helmut can feel you quivering against his tongue, but he does not stop, licking you clean of every last drop. He brings one of his hand from around your leg to your spent pussy, moving his mouth slowly only to replace it with his fingers, gently rubbing up and down your folds, in a soothing manner. And you can’t help but twitch now and then as you are taking deep breaths to calm yourself down, as your fingers loosen on Helmut’s head, now just resting in his matted and messy hair in an almost caress.

It takes you quite a bit of time before you are coming back to your complete consciousness, all the while Helmut laid between your thighs, placing gentle kiss on your soft, warm thigh every now and then, fingers still running ever so slowly up and down your fold, with Helmut’s gaze moving from your used pussy to your face, back down to your pussy, smile never leaving his face. Once becoming more aware of your surrounding, you immediately burn bright red feeling Helmut’s fingers and eyes on you, feeling so indecent, sitting up immediately, scrambling to gather yourself.

Helmut also sits up with you, a little confused of what you are doing, “My love what’s wrong?”

You don’t miss the way how Helmut addresses you has changed, and if you are being honest to yourself, you like it quite a bit. But you can’t help but feel like what just happened shouldn’t have happened, and you start to sputter out apologies, completely disregarding the fact that Helmut had devoured you of his own will. And just as you try to get up, Helmut pulls you down on him, wrapping his arm around you, with your back against Helmut’s chest and his one hand running up and down your exposed leg in a soothing manner, making you completely relaxed despite how exposed you are, as he speaks against the back of your neck, his breath tickling you, “What are you apologising for my baroness. You have no idea how long I wanted to do that to you.” Another kiss on the back of your ear as his whispers continue, “I wanted to wait for our marriage, when I have you officially and completely to me and I to you, but with how you started to speak of us, the doubt you had in us, I could not let that manifest any further, had to clear all these little doubts you had of me, of us, of what this is. My sweet love, these titles, these ranks, they account for nothing to me if I can’t have you. You must know since the moment we’ve met, I’ve had my eyes on you always, far too young to know what love is but my eyes saw none but you when we were together. And when this heart came to know of love, it loved one heart always. Yours.” And as he said that, you found yourself pushing further into Helmut’s warmth, his words making you feel completely dizzy, as these are words you never expected to come out of his mouth.

You grab his hand from around your body, and holding them to your chest, trying to hold whatever you can of his as close to your heart as possible, trying to make yourself believe that it is no dream. You open both his palms up and put them on each of your breasts. Helmut laughs with a little humour at this and speaks, “my love what on earth are you doing.”

“Squeeze me.”

And Helmut can no longer be subtle with his laugh, “What on earth are you talking about, I pour my heart out only for you to ask me to grab your tits?”

You nod innocently, turning your head slightly towards him, meeting his gaze ever so shyly before speaking, “I need to know I’m not dreaming, so, my Baron, can you please squeeze my tits tightly.”

Helmut shakes his head fondly at your words, and obeying your request, moving his hand to slip it inside your dress from the top, grabbing your tits once more and giving both your tits a long and harsh squeeze, your nipple getting caught in the most delicious painful pinch, and you can’t help the whine that escapes your lips as you lean hear head back onto his shoulder as you repeatedly let out, “real, real, real…” Helmut leans forward to give your lips few soft pecks and slowly removes his hands from inside your dress.

“Now my love, I know you must be tired, and I apologise that I can’t take you away just yet, but we must tend to the guests again. We’ve left them alone for far too long. But don’t you worry, I’ll be right by your side the whole time. You can lean on me for the rest of the night, I’ll be your crutch” Helmut speaks teasingly.

You whine against him, “No, I’m fine, lets go.” Determined to prove him wrong, you push yourself up with his support, once standing, you start fixing yourself up, setting your panty decently, which is still embarrassingly wet, but you know you can do nothing about it. You fix the skirt of your dress and pull the bust up to make yourself all decent. Helmut stands up behind you, standing on guard in case you need any help, and he was right to do so as you stumble on the very first step you take as you find yourself still drained from the earlier events. Helmut immediately grips at your waist, holding you steady. Helmut shakes his head endearingly, bringing you close to his side, taking one last look up and down at the both of you to make sure everything is decent, and leading you both back to the grand hall, slowly.

As you both step into the ballroom again, your and his mum rush to the both of you bombarding you two about your whereabouts. “Where were you kids, leaving your guests unattended.” Hilda goes off, eyeing both of you a little suspiciously, “and something seems different about you two. Were you guys off doing drugs or something.” Hilda’s eyes turn a little wild, your mum’s eyes also going wide, “you know what I don’t want to know, not now, go back in there and tend to the guests.” Hilda pushes you both inside. Helmut’s arms remain around you as you both the guests around the room, Helmut looking at you from time to time, leaning down whispering sweet nothings to you.

Your and Helmut’s mum can’t help but stand by each other while eyeing both your interactions, can’t help but notice how it has drastically changed since earlier tonight. Both knew of your feelings towards Helmut, but now seeing both of you so cosy, so publically, both are very confused, but couldn’t contain their happiness, especially for you, both looking at each other then giving each other a massive hug of relief, both elated for their respective children and what their closeness may mean.

Throughout the night, the happy couple greeted everyone around the room, made conversation with whomever they were required to make conversation with, and with each and every people they interacted with, everyone could see the love and fondness in each other’s eyes. Anyone who witnessed Helmut’s gaze on Y/N would say that he looks at Y/N like she held the universe in her palms, the two must be soulmates, lovers for eternity, if a past life existed, the two must’ve been together. And they wouldn’t be wrong, Helmut indeed look at her as if she were the most precious being to ever exist.

You see, while Y/N was so infatuated by Helmut growing up, she never did see that Helmut was equally enamoured by her. Whenever Y/N would visit, he’d always be somewhere close by, try to get a glimpse of her, be it a second. He loved seeing Y/n with his mum in their balcony, or her in the stables, far too scared to be on the horses, but helping feeding and brushing Helmut’s horse. What started as stolen glances from Helmut, bloomed into love. And with both of them being equal parts idiots, never approached each other either with their confession of love. So when Helmut’s father approached him with the proposal of both their marriage, he agreed in a heartbeat.

That night, there was affirmation on everyone’s heart that there was love in the air and that these two were meant to be. There was a satisfaction in both their parents heart that the two aren’t simply compromising for their countries, but do truly love each other. There was content within both Helmut’s and Y/N’s heart knowing that Helmut loves Y/N and Y/N loves Helmut. And there wasn’t a doubt in anyone’s mind that these two were meant to be.

a/n: hope that was ok.

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