#baronovember

[discoyumm]

You've been walking / you've been hiding / and you look half dead half the time / monitoring you / like machines do

You know you're better than this

[ohtoseni]

father figure

13- connection

after killing a high-ranking Hydra official, Zemo takes pity on the young woman who arrived home at the wrong time. he sees too much of himself and his past in her and just can’t let her go.

“Fit check!”

The girl propped her phone on the dining chair, tilted just enough so her friends could see her from head to toe. She stepped back, wobbling slightly on the hotel carpet as she twirled. “Just tell me these aren’t the cutest things you’ve ever seen!”

Her friends whistled and shrieked through the phone speaker, hyping her up as if she were wearing Haute Couture instead of baby-pink silk pajamas with cartoon pandas. 

Across the room, Zemo leaned back in the plush armchair, bourbon lazily swirling in his glass. He was safely out of frame, the lamplight warming the shape of his face as he watched her. Her blow-dried hair bounced, and her eyes wrinkled when she laughed as she basked in the attention of people who weren’t him. 

He should have been irritated— maybe he was. But he was still smiling. Her joy as she spoke with them was palpable and honest, making something tight and complicated twist in his chest. It should have been him making her smile and giddy, not some random kids through a phone.

His gaze fell to the window and the bright neon lights of Hightown. Really, all of his business in Madripoor would be taking place in Lowtown, but in a fragile attempt at keeping the young woman safe, he shelled out bigger bills for a room outside of the violence. Zemo didn’t mind the longer commute time; it was a necessary inconvenience. 

After finishing what remained of his drink, Zemo set the empty glass on the table next to him. A hush fell over the room as the video call came to a slow end. She now sat on the floor with her back against the wall, her phone centimeters away from her face as she made funny faces into the camera. While the conversation had died, it was obvious none of them wanted to hang up first. 

It was good, Zemo thought, that she had connections outside of him. She was far less clingy and loud, no longer talking his ear off whenever she had a thought or idea. Now, she turned to her phone for attention and praise. Not him. He wasn’t entirely sure yet if he liked the new changes.

Zemo leaned back in his chair and gently patted his lap— a silent indicator to the woman that her time was up with her friends. Her head whipped toward him, a soft smile plastered on her face. He returned the slight smile and tapped his knee again. Briefly, she brought her attention back to her phone. 

“Okay, I gotta go now. Love you!”

The call ended with a round of giggles and waves before the soft click of the disconnect button sounded. She dropped her phone beside her on the carpet and let out a long, satisfied sigh. Her legs stretched out in front of her as if she’d just run a marathon of pure social stimulation. 

Zemo cleared his throat once, pointedly. Not loudly or scolding, but just a noise that showed he was waiting. 

Her eyes flickered back up to him. He watched the delayed understanding wash over her face. Her usual softness— that pleased, smug glow she always held after being adored— shifted into something entirely else. He much preferred her attention on him. 

She pushed herself up onto her knees, still wobbly in those ridiculous pajama shorts. “Sorry,” she murmured, voice quiet and hoarse from her previous laughter. She padded over to Zemo with that shy tilt to her head he had missed during her call. 

He parted his knees just slightly as she approached in invitation. Without needing to be told a second time, she climbed into his lap, legs curling to either side of him. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders lightly as she rested her head in his neck. The scent of her freshly-washed hair filled his lungs. 

“Love them?” he asked quietly with slight amusement.

She nodded, nuzzling deeper into his shoulder as her earlier energy melted into a warm, needy softness. “Yeah. I miss them.”

He hummed once in deliberation. “You throw those words around rather carelessly, my dear.”

The girl stiffened ever so slightly as guilt pricked under her skin. “It’s not like that, Helmut. You know what I meant.”

“Do I?” His hands traveled slowly and decisively down her back, resting at her waist. “You say it to them so flippantly.”

She pulled back enough to look at him, eyes wide and earnest as she lightly whined. “It’s different.”

Zemo tipped his head back just a fraction, studying her with that slow, assessing stare that always made her feel stripped down to her nerves. “Different,” he repeated, as though tasting the word. “Explain.”

Her fingers fisted gently in the fabric at his shoulders. “Because it just is, okay? I care about them, but I don’t—” She broke off, frustrated over her lack of vocabulary for the kind of delicate emotional physics. Before continuing, she shyly hid her face back into his shoulder, muffling her words. “It’s not serious. It’s not… meaningful like when I say it to you.”

Something in Zemo’s expression eased. Not a full surrender, but a loosening of tension at the corners of his mouth. “So you reserve the real meaning for me?” 

“Obviously,” she breathed out. She wasn’t sure why Zemo needed her to spell it out. Maybe he just liked hearing the words. Perhaps he liked the reassurance. Or, more likely, he enjoyed watching her squirm a little. 

His thumb brushed an idle pattern against her hip, right under the hem of her shirt. “I do not enjoy sharing your affections.”

She huffed a laugh, her breath hot against his throat. “So you are jealous.”

“Not jealous,” Zemo corrected, though his voice betrayed him with the softest hint of humor. “Possessive. It is different.”

“Sure.” She smirked into his skin. 

Zemo’s exhale was quiet, half with amusement and half something tired and aching. His hands tightened around her waist just enough to guide her attention back where he wanted it. 

“Sure,” he repeated, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You mock me now.”

She snorted softly. “I’m not mocking. I just… know you.”

“Do you now?” he asked, tilting his head as he studied her like a puzzle piece he already knew the shape of, yet still enjoyed turning it over anyway. 

“Yes,” she simply stated. 

The certainty in her voice was warm and uncalculated. It settled something deep inside of him. She knew him, and yet she still sat here, curled in his lap, reaching for him without hesitation. His hands shifted, palms steadying at her hips. 

“Then you should also know,” Zemo murmured with a smooth sincerity, “that your affection is not something I take lightly. Or share.”

She lifted her head with soft eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I just said it without thinking.”

“Carelessness,” he corrected. “Which I dislike.”

Her cheeks heated again. “I didn’t mean it like I mean it with you.”

He let out an unimpressed hum. “Then show me.”

The girl’s breathing hitched at the words. “Show you…?”

“Say it,” he said softly, thumb brushing the side of her jaw. “Not to them. To me.”

Her fingers tightened at his collar, nerves knotting in her stomach. She searched his face, only finding that calm expectancy and calm vulnerability he would never admit to. The way he held her was like she was something steadying rather than something fragile. Her voice came out small. “Helmut…”

“Yes,” he encouraged, leaning in close enough to steal her next breath. “I am listening.”

She swallowed a breath before whispering directly against his lips. “I love you.”

He closed his eyes as if the words struck something profound he had caged behind careful composure. His hand slid up to cup the back of her neck reverently.

“Again,” he murmured. 

“I love you,” she said with more certainty, though her breath still shook. 

Only then did Zemo pull her entirely toward him, possessively, hungrily, tenderly. His lips met hers in a slow, deliberate kiss. One that said good, I hear you; one that said everything he wasn’t willing to speak aloud.

Finally, when he drew back, he touched his forehead to hers. “Thank you,” he whispered, a soft smile ghosting at his mouth. “That, my dear… that is what I wanted.”

[sadbattrue]

Baronovember

Do you love Zemo as much as we love him? Even if not, you may express all your feelings this November!

There will be created AO3 collection where you may post your works. Any ships are welcome!

[roll-of-royces]

BARONOVEMBER | DAY FOUR | CAMARADERIE

Had some fun using kids coloring pages to create this! I'm such a sucker for Zemo & Captain Hydra brothers till the end of the line stuff. And yes that smol child is Carl!

[baronhelmutjzemo]

[OPEN RP] 4.0 Baron Helmut J. Zemo

What was meant to be a two-hour reconnaissance mission that led him across town, ended hours ago. He had always been rather proficient on his own. Besides, freedom always comes with a cost. Luckily, this was one that he could afford. One that promised to potentially free him of the last of his shackles - or in his case, the ankle monitor that kept him confined to the bounds of the city. The job was finished. And of course, could have returned to the quiet of his own, lavish apartment that awaited on the other side of the city. However, he decided (on a whim) that the St. Regis penthouse suite was a better fit for him, tonight. So he paid the night manager an obscene amount to clear the rooftop pool until dawn, reserving it for no more than one or two others—if anyone interesting were to appear.

Now the deck was empty.

The water glowed a saturated, almost indecent turquoise. Steam rose in slow, heavy coils, wrapping around bare skin and the low amber lights. Zemo idled waist-deep at the edge, black trunks clinging low, every scar and line of pale muscle lit by city glow and moonlight, along with the paper thin gold chain around his neck that sat atop his bare chest. The ankle monitor pulsed faint red beneath the surface, the only proof he is still a prisoner allowed to roam the five boroughs.

A silk robe lay discarded on a chaise. One untouched glass of 1983 Château d’Yquem awaited next to it, condensation beading like sweat.

He was simply there—idling, absorbing heat, silence, the strange luxury of choosing to stay somewhere beautiful for no reason other than wanting to feel it against his skin.

The elevator was unlocked. The water was warm. The night belonged, for now, to whoever would step through the glass doors.

[Open to anyone. You do not have to necessarily match the length or style. The plot is intended to be potentially romantic/sensual, but it is very much welcoming towards anything non-NSFW or even platonic. Up to your character. Would prefer canon or canon-adjacent characters (it is easier). But if you have a description of your OC, that is fine too.]

[kodalinx]

Baronovember - Day 3 - Desserts

"Zemo leaned back comfortably in the white metal chair with its decorative backrest, his legs crossed leisurely and a small, steaming cup of tea pinched in one hand. He sipped at it intermittently, the fruity and floral notes singing sweetly where they lay on his tongue."

[feralpoetrycore]

Day 15 Suit

My motivation to write took a nosedive. Have a collage instead. It's just Daniel Brühl in a suit and a quote that reminds me of Zemo and Ember. Enjoy.

[ohtoseni]

father figure - baronovember

a masterlist

original prompt post - by @sadbattrue

summary: after killing a high-ranking Hydra official, Zemo takes pity on the young woman who arrived home at the wrong time. he sees too much of himself and his past in her and just can’t let her go.

a/n: allow me to arrive fashionably late to the party

01 - weakness

02 - purple

03 - dessert

04 - camaraderie

05 - murder

06 - plan b

07 - book

08 - prison

09 - sword

10 - consequences

11 - children

12 - on the run

13 - connection

14 - patience

15 - suit

16 - obsession

17 - dream

18 - pain

19 - cat

20 - danger

21 - loyalty

22 - mask

23 - greatness

24 - deviation

25 - laugh

26 - nostalgia

27 - chess

28 - blood

29 - faith

30 - power