Baron Zemo X Reader - Tumblr Posts

you are a dancing queen

bliss [helmut zemo x reader]

summary ↠ "i would die for her. i would kill for her. either way, what bliss." - gomez addams pairing ↠ young!helmut zemo x fem!reader (y/n) word count ↠ 1.8k warnings ↠ explicit language, murder a/n ↠ listen, i’m a sucker for a baby zemo doing everything he can to protect you. enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio!

You heard his laughter, and you knew that something was wrong.

The man was a flirt, player, and, as your friends said, “not good for you”. He was only just freshly 19 when you had met and, upon literally bumping into each other in a small cafe, you were instantly smitten. It was impossible not to be, though; he had these big brown eyes, fluffy and dark-ginger hair, and a dimpled smile that drew you in immediately. He introduced himself as “Hel” and gave you his phone number, and you were satisfied with your little interaction. It had been a while since anybody had shown interest in you like that.

He took you on a date. An unusual one, late at night, all alone on abandoned rooftops of Novi Grad, but a date nonetheless. Hel had greeted you with a smile, a red rose, and a bottle of German beer, and you had decided that you were hooked on him. The night was a bit cold and you buried yourself into his body, and he had soothed you to sleep with gentle scratching on your back. As you drifted to sleep, you remember thinking that he smelled nice and how you wouldn’t mind wearing his jacket one day.

That day came about a month later. He had come to pick you up after one of your lectures and he stood there in the rain as you had bustled out of the building. “Hurry up!” he had laughed as you raced to meet him under the umbrella. “Here, take this…” He had struggled his rain coat off and draped it around your shoulders and over your back to protect your bag, and he had quickly tapped your nose when he pulled the hood over your head.

“Thanks, Hel,” you chuckled, stepping a bit closer to him.

“I love you,” Hel told you, and you looked at him to find his gaze clear and fixed on you. “I love you so much, it hurts.”

You smiled, moved onto the tips of your toes, and kissed him. “I love you too, Hel.”

Hel’s 20th birthday was in the summer, and he invited you to meet his parents. It was a small get-together, he had told you. Just his mother, father, a few close friends, and you. He drove you, his hand fixed on your thigh the whole time, and you noticed his fingers tapping nervously. “What’s this all about?” you asked, gesturing the frantically-moving digits.

Hel had swallowed thickly, and replaced his hand on the wheel. “Nothing.”

That night, you found out who Hel truly was. Your boyfriend, the most beautiful man you had ever met, the one who knew how to dry your tears and kiss you drunk, was royalty. Baron Helmut Zemo. You had moved to Sokovia to go to university in Novi Grad and hardly recognized any of the royal family, let alone the lesser members, so it wasn’t that hard to believe that you hadn't recognized him. It was still shocking, though. What was even more hurtful than Helmut keeping it from you, though, was that he wasn’t even the one to tell you the truth; it was his cousin, Emil. He had said it and given you a smile, like he was aware that you had no idea and was intent on letting you know the secret. Your head was spinning as you excused yourself from the conversation and went to the balcony, and you found Helmut out there, smoking a cigarette and laughing at something his friend had said. “Baron?” you asked, and he turned to you so quickly that you were surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash. “When were you gonna tell me this?”

“I-I was planning on doing it tonight,” Helmut had said, but your senses were too muffled by anger and hurt to process much other than his words.

“You had a whole fucking year to tell me,” you said. “Are you ashamed of it? Did you think I wouldn’t be around long enough for it to matter?”

“No, no!” Helmut had exclaimed, and he crossed to you and took your hand in his. “That’s not it at all, mein Schatz! I didn’t want you to get hurt. This life, it’s… I wouldn’t wish it on anybody. It’s cutthroat, it’s mean, it’s-it’s not for you.”

You pulled your hand away from him and sighed. “I just can’t believe you’d keep this from me,” you said. “Me, of all people, Hel. And I find out by your fucking cousin telling me that you were on some fucking list of Hottest Bachelors or some shit like that--”

“Who?”

“What?” you asked. Helmut had a look in his eyes that you had never seen before, one of pure and potent anger, and his dark eyebrows were furrowed.

“Who told you?” he said. His back teeth were clenched-- you could hear it in his voice-- and his hand was too tight on yours.

“Emil,” you replied. “God, let go, you’re gonna leave a bruise.”

Helmut suddenly dropped your hand like it had burned him, and he instead clasped your face in his palms. “I love you, mein Schatz,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. You have every right to be angry and to hate me, but please, I can’t… I can’t live knowing that I fucked this up so spectacularly.”

You smoothed your hands up to meet his, and you tangled your fingers with his. “I’m gonna go home,” you whispered. “I don’t feel comfortable here anymore. But don’t rush, love. Enjoy your birthday. Just come by my apartment when you’re done and we can talk about this.” You reached to him and tugged him down to kiss you, and you swore that you could taste his love on his tongue. Cigarettes, champagne, and love.

You were asleep by the time Helmut came home. Rightfully so, seeing as it was nearly four o’clock. You knew that Europeans, specifically Sokovians, knew how to party, but even that was a bit much for Helmut. You knew that your neighbors would have a few choice words for you about your boyfriend coming home drunk an hour before the sun rose, but then you heard the laughter.

It was quiet at first. As you rose from bed, you hardly heard it. You thought it was your window unit AC acting up again, as it was prone to do. But then, the laughter grew. It bubbled up and grew, until it was nearly hysterical.

“Hel?” you called. You quickly stepped out of the bedroom and into the front room, and, in the darkness, you saw your boyfriend’s form sitting at the window. He was laughing. He was shaking, trembling, and you flicked on a lamp. You nearly threw up at what you saw.

Blood. Still red, still fresh. Red blood on his shirt, on his jeans, on his hands, in his hair. It wasn’t that much, but it was everywhere. His shirt, the nice white button-down that you had begged him to wear but that he had only agreed to if he could pop the top three buttons (and how were you going to say no to that?), was perhaps the most stained of all. The sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and you clutched his arm in fear.

“Hel!” you cried. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

He was still doing that awful laugh, and it made your stomach drop. Something hadn’t happened to him; he had made something happen to someone. He had tears in his eyes and tears rolling down his flushed cheeks, and he sniffled in-between bouts of laughter. “Helmut,” you said quickly, and you took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “What did you do?”

Helmut responded instantly. He threw his arms around you and pulled you into a wild kiss, clutching at your waist, ass, thighs, any part of you that he could reach. His hands were shaking as he touched you, and you prayed that he wouldn’t notice how hard you were trembling. “Nobody’s going to hurt you again,” he whispered into your mouth. “Not as long as I have breath in my lungs and a gun in my hand.”

You broke out of his grip, and you staggered to sit down before your legs gave out entirely. Gun. He had said gun. “What did you do?” you asked weakly.

Helmut came to kneel in front of you, and he nudged your knees open to slot between your thighs. “I did it for you,” he told you. “All for you, mein Schatz, just for you. See if anybody ever fucking disrespects you again.”

You pushed him away, but that wild look in his brown eyes told you that not even being a few inches apart could help you. “Was it Emil?” you whispered, and Helmut smiled as he nodded.

“So smart,” he muttered, and pulled you close and landed a firm kiss to your head. “So fucking smart, mein Schatz. You’ll be a good baroness, I know it.”

“What did you do to him?” you asked. You had almost not understood what he had said, but you caught it. Baroness. If you married him, you too would be royalty. You were conflicted anyway; Helmut Zemo had hurt someone for you. Baron Helmut Zemo had attacked his own cousin for “disrespecting” you. You wanted to condemn his actions, to cry and yell at him and break up, but a small ball of anxiety sat deep in your stomach. He did for you. He loved you so much that he would hurt someone for you.

“S’what he fucking gets,” Helmut muttered to himself. “Saying that to you, how dare he--”

“Helmut,” you said quickly. “Did you… Did you kill him?”

You felt ill as your boyfriend nodded, and you drew your knees up to your chest. “Holy shit, Hel,” you whispered, and you shoved him away when he tried to embrace you. “No, no! Stay the fuck away from me! How could you do this?”

“I love you--”

“That’s not enough!” you exclaimed. “Helmut, you killed someone, all because he was mean to me. How in the fuck do you think that’s alright?”

“It’s the least I should have done to him,” Helmut said. “I should have done more. Death is too easy for him. He does not talk to you like that, nobody talks to you like that.”

Your instincts were screaming at you to push him away and to force him out of the apartment, but a larger part of you felt safe in his presence. Even if he was bloody and maniacal, he was your Hel. The thought that he would even do something as drastic as that for something as simple as what his cousin had done was flattering. He loved you. There was no doubt about it.

“I love you,” you whispered. “Thank you.”

Helmut looked at you, that crazed look still in his eyes. And, when he smiled, you saw blood in his mouth.

He's so beautiful even when he's angry an wants to shoot you!