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shmaptainwrites · 4 years ago

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𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 [𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐙𝐄𝐌𝐎]

PAIRINGS — Helmut Zemo x fem!reader

SUMMARY — Around seven years after the death of your son it feels as though nothing's changed, the pain hasn't gone away, but after some coercing from your therapist and a bit of pure luck you test the waters to see if your ex-husband can help.

WARNINGS — swearing, angst, mentions/general descriptions of death, minor alcohol consumption, nightmares, trauma, fatws ep 4 spoilers (ish)

NOTE — See I told you, I went there, what's wrong with me? I don't know but I'm hella proud of how it turned out so no regrets also thank you to @/therenlover for encouraging me to post this!

"No, my son! My son is in there!" you screamed trying to claw past the guards, the military, keeping you from bringing your son back to safety.

"Ma'am-,"

"Carl!" you yelled as loud as your lungs would allow you, making your voice raw "Carl meine liebe! Carl can you hear me!"

Roughly, you pulled yourself away from the guards, taking a step back to address them.

"You're doing nothing for him! He's just a child! Let me get my son!"

"Ma'am it's too dangerous-,"

"Don't give me that-,"

You didn't have time to finish your sentence as the ground started to rumble, the building tumbling down into a pile of rubble and ashes in an already destroyed city.

You woke up, quickly pushing yourself upright, a cold sweat dripping down your forehead.

You knew what came next. It was always the same. The scream that ripped through your throat. Falling into nothingness while instead of sitting next to your son in the hospital while he recovered from a few minor injuries, you were sitting next to his casket. His hazel-coloured hair, parted slightly to the side, just like his dad's. The way he liked it.

And each time you woke up it felt more real than the last. Like you were back there. Watching the building fall while you stood helplessly.

The tears that dripped down your cheeks were old news, you'd find time to wipe them away at some point but you needed a minute. A minute to breathe.

Testing the waters you sling your feet over the bed, placing your toes on the cool wood flooring, bringing you slowly back to reality.

Standing was another challenge, but you took it step-by-step, wobbling to the washroom where you flicked on the lights, bending over the sink.

You didn't even notice how tightly you were holding onto the sides until the sink shook slightly with you while you sobbed.

You were so tired these days, it felt like it had been years since you had gotten proper sleep, you even half expected a pair of calming hands, holding your waist, pulling back your hair, tethering you to the present. But like always, there was nothing, but you supposed that was your own fault.

You managed enough strength to turn on the tap, splashing your face with cold water.

Drying your face you looked away from the mirror, unable to face yourself, instead trying to take some calming breaths the ones you used to think were bullshit but after your therapist had forced you to try it, well it was hard to go back.

Two through the nose. One out through the mouth.

Again and again, until your heart rate came to a rest.

Your eyes flicked to the bottle of sleeping pills next to your bed.

You didn't want to take them, medication, taking something for it made it seem so real, but your trouble with sleep didn't start with the death of your son.

Walking over slowly to your bed, you picked up the bottle, glancing at it for a long minute before two words came through your mind,

Fuck it

You popped open the lid, shaking out two pills into your hand, turning to look out of the window.

"You were right," you shook your head, speaking to your ex wherever he was. "Hope you're happy," you whispered, popping the pills in your mouth and climbing back into the bed that was far too large for one person, closing your eyes and letting the nightmares take you once more.

—

"Have you been back yet?"

"Hmm?" you asked, a tired glaze coming over your eyes. "Sorry, can you repeat that I-um I'm just tired,"

"Rough couple nights? You know if you took the-,"

"The pills, I know. I took them," you told her, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Honestly I think that's causing the drowsiness,"

"It's possible, but I'm glad you're giving them a try,"

"Yeah, I think that's going to be the first and only time," you admitted.

"Why is that?" your therapist asked. "Just from a point of curiosity, I won't force you to do anything,"

"They came back," you twitched, twiddling your thumbs and looking down at your feet. "As soon as I went back to sleep the nightmares came back and I couldn't get out,"

"I see," she nodded, writing something down in her notes.

"W-What was that question you asked? Before?"

"I was just wondering if you've been back to Sokovia, since after Ultron?"

You tensed, "Sokovia doesn't exist anymore," you said, trying to make sure your voice didn't hold a waver.

"I mean the memorial," she clarified. "The country may not exist but the land is the same,"

"What good would it do?" you asked. "Just to see his name on some plaque. It won't bring him back,"

"And what about your ex, do you have any contact with him?"

"No," you shook your head. "After the divorce I-," you chewed your lip. "I just tossed it all aside,"

"Maybe you should consider it," she suggested. "It might offer some sort of closure, he's probably going through the same things you are right now,"

"I'll think about it,"

"Try not to think too hard," she smiled kindly at you. "Same time next week as usual?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "Thanks again,"

"Just doing my job (Y/N), happy to help,"

You grabbed your purse and keys, standing up and making your way out of the small office building in downtown Riga.

The city was quiet now, it didn't use to be, but a part of you was grateful for the silence. It made it seem like maybe the rest of the world was on the same foot as you.

Driving back the same familiar route was like a small therapy in itself. It was one thing that didn't change. Stayed the same. Stability was something you needed now, more than anything.

You had barely even thrown your keys on the counter when you heard the doorbell ring and you wanted to let out a groan of displeasure, but you stopped yourself, walking down the stairs and peeking through the door hole, your heart almost stopping when you saw who was on the other side.

You debated just ignoring it, going back upstairs, but when you heard,

"(Y/N) I know you're in there,"

You didn't have much of a choice.

Clicking the lock, you gently swung the door open, looking straight into chestnut eyes you would have maybe been happy to see last night.

"(Y/N)," he smiled. "It really is lovely to see you, it's been a while no?"

"What do you want, Helmut," you sighed.

"My home," he said, motioning to the interior with his eyes.

"Yeah, this used to be your home, emphasis on used,"

Finally, you took a minute to see who was with him, curious as to the fact that you recognized them both.

"You've got yourself some... interesting company Helmut,"

"I'm sorry," one of them responded, clearly more of an understanding temperament to him. If you remembered his name correctly it was Sam Wilson. "We assumed this was his home. I know at least I wasn't aware there was someone else staying here, we can be out of your hair-,"

Helmut held up his hand and cut Sam off from speaking, he looked a little offended but obeyed.

"It's just a few days, we have some work to do in the city then you'll never have to see us again,"

Under any other circumstances, it would have been an immediate no. But you knew the men that were with him were good people, they didn't deserve to be turned away like that and damn if Carina hadn't said something earlier today. It would be easier to get it over with now that he was here.

"Fine," you muttered. "No messes, don't touch my stuff and I swear to God Helmut do not make me regret this,"

"Of course volyena-,"

"Don't," you pointed a warning finger at him. "Don't call me that,"

"Apologies, it slipped," he nodded and you took a short breath, moving away from the doorway and allowing the three men to come in, your ex-husband showing them upstairs.

"Please, make yourselves at home," you looked at his two companions, "Helmut knows where everything is so-," you shrugged and they nodded allowing you to make your exit into the living room, picking up a magazine that had probably been sitting there for decades, just flipping through the pages.

"You known Zemo long?" you could hear Sam's voice asking you while he took a seat on the opposite couch.

"You could say that," you nodded, turning your head and watching the man pour tea into a few separate cups.

"He always been such a pain in the ass?" the other asked and Sam nudged his shoulder.

"James right?" you asked him back and he nodded. "Sometimes," you responded to his questions. "He had his moments,"

"Thank you," the Baron gave you a hint of a smile while handing you a warm glass of tea.

Glancing down you saw the label on the teabag and frowned.

"H-How did you know? It's been seven years since we've seen each other and you still remember the tea I like?"

"You don't like change (Y/N)," he said with a small shrug, sitting down next to you. "Plus you seem to forget I used to bring it to you every morning,"

"Are you two like married or something?" Sam asked, a confused frown dawning his features.

"Were," you emphasized. "We were married,"

"So he definitely was a pain in the ass then," Bucky said, finally taking a seat and you pursed your lips.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," you whispered. "M-Maybe we could change the topic?"

The men nodded and easily switched into another conversation, giving you a chance to just sit and listen to their interactions.

They had made a small plan for themselves and decided to stay low for a night before trying to get any information for whatever it was that they were doing, honestly you couldn't care less.

The guest rooms were already set up, not having been touched in ages, allowing both Sam and Bucky to go to bed early and get a good night's rest.

Helmut on the other hand took a seat by the window, admiring the city from afar, possibly reflecting, but you really didn't know what went on in his mind.

So you did something you could handle, going into your room and grabbing a box. A box of all his things, the ones he was supposed to pick up, the things he never came back to get. Maybe this was the closure Carina was talking about.

"Helmut?" you said softly and he turned around immediately at the sound of your voice, seeing the box you carried. "I-um...I'm not sure if you remember but you were supposed to come to pick up some things from me... after the divorce."

"You kept them all this time?"

"They're your things I didn't really have much other use for them...I suppose I could've thrown them out,"

He stood up from his seat, carefully walking towards you and glancing down at the box and its contents.

A small package caught his eyes and he picked it up, untying the string holding it together to reveal a pile of photos.

"These are all our wedding pictures," he frowned. "You don't even want to keep some of them?"

"Like I said," you shrugged. "I don't have any use for them,"

That was a lie, you did keep one photo. Even if it was only one and you took it out from your desk from time to time just to remember, remember what life was like before.

He sat down on the coffee table next to the box, still looking down at the photos in his hand.

"You look unwell volyena," his eyes flickered up to you for a fleeting moment and your breath was caught in your throat. As if you were guilty of something. "If-,"

"I want to talk about it, right?" you asked and he nodded.

"There's nothing to say Helmut, it's been seven years," you whispered. "Seven years since I've held my son in my arms and that number will only get bigger,"

"I-,"

"No," you interrupted him again, "Let me finish."

He pursed his lips and nodded,

"Everyone moved on Helmut, even you but every single night I'm there," you told him. "I'm right outside that building, watching him die all over again," the pain that was laced through your voice stung him like a bite from a venomous snake. "So yes, I'm unwell and I don't think it's something that will change, there will always be a part of me that is unwell,"

After a short silence where you didn't think he was going to respond, you turned around to leave.

"I didn't move on," he whispered softly, stopping you in your tracks and turning around.

"What?" you asked, not hearing him properly the first time.

"You said I've moved on. I haven't," he said simply. "Whatever you're going through, it's not alone. The pain is something I carry too,"

"That still doesn't explain everything that happened. Everything that happened afterwards... you vanished,"

"You had every right to leave me," he assured you, taking your hand in his. "I wasn't there when you needed me most. My biggest regret,"

You took your hand away from him and shook your head.

"Helmut, I can't do this,"

"Then don't, but at least let me be here for you while we're staying with you," he begged. "Please,"

You didn't respond, only turning your back to him and walking towards your room, the one you used to share.

"I didn't give you all the wedding pictures," you said before walking into your room, turning back on your heels. "The one my cousin took of the two of us when we snuck off into the gardens to have a moment alone. I kept that one,"

He opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it, only giving you a thin-lipped smile and nodding, allowing you to retreat into the room, but it was already clear that neither one of you would get a good sleep.

—

When you walked out the next morning you looked at the kitchen curiously, noticing all three men were awake.

"Did I sleep in?" you asked, "Or are you all just early risers?"

"Military," Bucky said simply and you nodded, remembering the early days when Helmut had just come back from fighting in the Sokovian civil war, he'd be up at five-thirty in the morning on the dot. Every single day.

"Can I make you guys something to eat or have you already taken care of that?"

"Something to eat would be wonderful," Sam nodded. "And thank you again for letting us stay here,"

"It's not a problem," you gave him a small smile. "It's actually nice to have people back in the house. When my son was young we used to have dinner with his friend's families and the place would be so bright,"

"I remember that," Helmut smiled wistfully. "He made friends so easily we probably did it twice a week each time with a new person,"

You nodded, "He'd come home and say mama we have to invite them all so they don't get left out!"

"He sounds very considerate, my nephews, they're oblivious to that kind of stuff, but they're learning," Sam smiled. "Does he go to school abroad? Or is he just out of the-,"

Sam saw the look Bucky gave him and he stopped his sentence.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry for bringing it up," he apologized quickly.

"It's alright," you assured him. "It's not often I get to speak of him in a happy context, thank you for that," you came up to him and gave him a gentle hug which he gracefully accepted. "Now why don't we do pancakes, I know Helmut liked those, hasn't changed I'm assuming,"

He nodded to confirm and both Sam and Bucky seemed to be alright with that choice so you didn't waste another minute to get started.

"Can I help?" Helmut asked.

"Actually, I was thinking maybe you could do the cooking, you know I always miss the mark,"

"Burnt or undercooked," he chuckled softly to himself. "I'd be happy to,"

And for a second, it was like things never changed. Like it was still Sunday morning and you were both up early together, making pancakes and waiting for Carl to wake up.

After you finished the batter and handed it off to Helmut you focused your attention on cutting up some fruits to put on the side that could be eaten with the breakfast food along with authentic maple syrup and not whatever corn syrup crap that wasn't imported.

Halfway through cutting you realized you had some strawberries in the fridge that needed to be used so you turned to make your way there, only to bump straight into Helmut who was heading in the opposite direction.

"Oh! Sorry," you said, slightly startled.

"It's alright," he said while you both did a little shuffle, attempting to sneak past each other but keep getting in each other's way.

Finally, Helmut took initiative, grabbing you gently by the waist and rotating you both so you were in the places you needed to be.

You felt yourself coughing and averting your gaze trying to draw attention away from your flustered self, but probably just doing the exact opposite.

After all that you could feel his burning gaze on your back and you wondered if maybe he still looked at you the same way he used to. Back when you were stupid twenty-year-olds, getting in trouble, sneaking around, falling in love.

Did he look at you and see that same person from all those years ago?

"Food's ready," Helmut's voice broke you out of your thoughts and you helped bring the things to the table.

After breakfast they were quick to leave the house, scouting around for some information, not that you really knew what was going on in the first place.

It gave you time to collect yourself a bit, cleaning up the dishes with some soft music playing in the background, your mind constantly travelling back to your ex-husband.

It was almost...nice having him back in the house. Even though this wasn't the house you had shared together long term, that having been in Novi Grad and destroyed along with everything else there, it was still comforting. Like the change of his absence was part of the pain you were feeling and now that pain was gone because the change had been reversed.

Hopping into the shower your thoughts stopped, focusing instead on the little things like the feeling of the water hitting your back or the slightly cool breeze coming through the window.

When you climbed out you grabbed your bathrobe that was hanging around the door, tying it around your waist and unconsciously making your way towards your desk.

Before you knew it your hand reached to one of the drawer handles, pulling it ajar and grabbing its only content.

A small framed picture sending you almost twenty years back in a half faded memory.

You clutched onto your newlywed husband's hand tightly as he pulled you through the small gravel pathway away from the large fancy banquet hall where the reception was being held.

"Helmut slow down I'm going to trip over this damn dress!" you giggled, but he only tugged you into him with a bit more force than intended, sending you slamming into his chest and falling down onto one of the benches with a shriek.

"Shh," he chuckled, holding his hand over your mouth. "Do you want them to figure out we snuck out of our own wedding or what?"

"Oh hush," you lightly slapped his chest. "But seriously do you think they'll notice we're gone?"

"No, I think we have some time," he nodded.

"It seems so ironic, it's our day and yet I've barely seen you,"

"Yes, well, we're going to have to correct that," he gave you a wide smile, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours in a brief kiss.

"You're still wearing your glasses meine liebe,"

"Meine liebe, where did you pick that up?" he asked with a chuckle. "They will riot if they found out my so-called Sokovian wife was using these foreign terms of endearment," he joked.

"I heard someone say it in Germany," you admitted. "I don't know, I just... I thought it suited you," you straightened his tie, looking back up at him through the brown rims of his glasses.

"You don't like them?" he asked.

"No, I love them," you assured him. The way his hands shakily took them out of his pocket during the ceremony so he could read his vows, you found it adorable how nervous he was, but you knew it wasn't marrying you that scared him. He always thought you deserved better, but you wanted him, through and through. "Here let me try them on, we'll see if I can pull them off,"

You carefully pulled the glasses off his face and slid them onto yours, blinking a few times to adjust to the prescription.

"They're not that bad," you chuckled. "How do I look?"

"Adorable," he hummed, a hand of his coming to cup your face and bring you in for a sweet kiss."Okay I have to take these off before I go blind," you exaggerated and gave them back to your husband.

Husband. It sounded so surreal. He was your husband.

He put his glasses back on at your request, leaning his forehead against yours, just breathing it all in.

The smell of the flowers, his faint cologne, the vibrant colours of the nature surrounding you. It was heavenly.

"I love you volyena," he murmured, his hands intertwined with your own.

"I love you too, but what do you prefer, Baron or Colonel?" you teased.

"Neither, for you, Helmut. To the world we can be Baron and Baroness Zemo but for us. Helmut and (Y/N),"

"Or volyena and meine liebe,"

"Yes, or that," he smiled. "One more kiss for the road?"

"If you insist," you grinned, turning your head slightly to better press your lips to his, savouring every moment, down to the faint taste of coffee on his lips.

You reached a hand up to your lips, like the feeling of him pressed against you was still there, still vivid as it was the day it happened.

"(Y/N)?" there was a small knock on the door and his head peeked through the small opening. "You're here...good,"

"Find what you were looking for?" you asked, placing the frame back inside the drawer and closing it.

"Somewhat, we'll have to wait another day to see if things work out," he explained. "May I come in?"

You nodded and he opened the door wider, slipping into the room and taking a seat across from you on the bed.

"Do you need something? Want something?" you asked him while he stared back at you.

"I..." he paused as if debating whether it was a good idea to bring it up. "I haven't seen his face in almost seven years,"

"A picture," you murmured and he nodded.

"If you have one,"

You didn't hesitate to get up and quickly walk over to your bedside table and open the small cupboard embedded in it, taking out an album and bringing it to Helmut, sitting down next to him while he took a moment before opening it.

It started with his baby pictures, it was an album you had started back when he was born and each year on his birthday you'd add the previous year's photos to it.

There were many of him asleep in Helmut's arms, half of which he had fallen asleep right along with him.

"You were always so tired," you mumbled. "Even later on, do you remember what he'd do?"

He nodded, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"He would come onto my lap and run his hand over my eyes to close them and say papa sleep we can play later you're tired,"

"And then he'd fall asleep on top of you,"

He flipped through a few more pages of the book, finding a photo of the scene you were describing from when Carl was five.

Right next to it was a photo of the three of you together, taken by a hired photographer in one of your father-in-law's large estates. Carl was finding it hard to sit still for a serious family portrait so you humoured him into doing some goofy faces and something a little more casual just sitting on the couch like a regular family.

"I always liked those photos more than the one we had to print for the painter," he said softly, "He looks happier,"

"So do we," you noted, glancing at your bright smiling face staring back at you.

You felt like a shell of the person you were all those years back.

Helmut turned to face you, gently holding your upper arm while he leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering maybe a moment longer than they should have, but you didn't have it in you to fight him. The warmth that came with his kiss was something you hadn't felt in years and you weren't prepared to push that away.

"Thank you," he whispered, pulling back away from you.

You pursed your lips and nodded, reaching over and pulling out the photo from the album.

"Take it with you," you said, handing it to him. "You should have it,"

He thanked you again and stood up from where he sat on your bed. Going back the way he came and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

—

It was probably half-past three when you woke up that morning, a scream caught by in your throat, sending you up and rushing out of your room.

Quickly you ran over to the deck, trying to open the door as quietly as possible and finally exhaled when the cool air hit your skin.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Jesus Helmut!" you exclaimed quietly, one hand over your heart to indicate your surprise while the other furiously wiped away tears.

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he stood up from his seat and came to stand next to you.

You didn't have the energy to respond, your arms leaning against the railing while you covered your face with your hands, sobbing quietly.

It seemed as though Helmut froze. All this time he knew you were hurting, but for it to get to the point where you didn't even bother to hide your tears, that was something that needed to be rectified.

And finally, after all those nights of dreaming and wishing it, you felt those hands against your waist, thumbs tracing soft and carefully thought out circles, like he was reminding you he was there, feeling everything with you.

Your mind wanted so badly to hate him, resent him for leaving you behind, for giving up on you without a fight, but deep inside you knew you'd always love him, no matter what.

His hands after a while, carefully shifted, turning you around to face him so he could bring you into his chest. There was no doubt his nightshirt would be soaked in minutes.

"Come on let's get you back to bed," he whispered.

You shook your head adamantly.

"No, I-I can't they're just going to come back," you hiccoughed.

"I'll stay with you," he said, and it wasn't really a suggestion, more like an insistence.

"Hel-,"

"Volyena let me stay with you please, let me help you,"

You chewed on your lip and finally nodded your head, letting him lead you back inside to the large master bedroom.

He pulled back the sheets on the untouched side of the bed and slipped under them while you went to the other side. He motioned for you to come closer, and you did so, resting your head on his chest, letting his arm wrap around you and find itself in your hair, scratching your scalp gently.

"Helmut?" you whispered faintly, voice broken.

"Yes, my love,"

"Thank you,"

—

If it weren't for the faint clicking and rustling you heard you would have been fast asleep, not a worry in the world, but there was a civil war going on, sometimes you seemed to forget that and all of a sudden you were on full alert.

You quickly ran into your closet, grabbing one crutch from when you had broken your leg as a young teenager, the only suitable weapon you had in the house besides your father's rifle, but you doubted it was anything. You'd be fine.

"Who's there?" you called quietly. No answer.

You reached the curtains and held one of them bunched up in your hand, taking a deep breath and pulling them back in a swift motion, screaming when you saw the man clad in military uniform in the dark on your balcony. The door finally clicked open and you felt a hand on your mouth and you finally realized who it was.

"Shh! Someone's going to hear you!"

"Helmut what the hell are you doing here?!" you exclaimed in a stressed whisper, pulling his hand off your mouth and tossing the crutch in your hand over to the couch. "There's a curfew, you're not supposed to be here,"

"I-I needed to see you (Y/N)," he said in almost a begging tone, his hands gently cupping your face. "I had to see you before I left,"

"And you leave tomorrow Helmut, how did you think you were going to get across boundary lines in the city and make it back before morning, you could get killed!"

"I might as well be dead if I couldn't see you,"

"Helmut what's going on," you murmured, pushing the hair away from your young boyfriend's forehead.

"(Y/N) I'm..." his answer became stuck in his throat. "I'm scared," he confessed. "I-I didn't want to die without seeing you one last time,"

"Helmut you're not going to die," you said firmly. "Okay, you can't die. I won't let you,"

The corner of his lip twitched slightly upward at that.

"The war will end and you'll come back to my door the same way you did tonight and you're going to ask me to marry you, you understand? I'm expecting nothing less,"

"Yes ma'am,"

"Now give me a kiss," you whispered softly, your fingers brushing against his cheek. "Please,"

"Yes ma'am," he repeated and lowered his head down, capturing your lips with his own in a soft and slow movement, becoming more and more desperate as time went on, his hands gripping onto you so tight for fear of losing you if he let go. But when your lips parted he was still there, you were still there.

"Come and lay with me a bit," you breathed. "You'll have to leave before sunrise,"

He nodded in understanding and followed you to the small bed with soft and plush blankets, you had it better than most in the city and for that you were grateful.

It wasn't the first time Helmut had stayed with you. Sneaking in at the late hours of the evening just to lay down next to you. But soon he wouldn't have to do that, because just like you said he was going to come back, and you were going to get married. Start your life together. And for a minute he wasn't so scared because he believed you. He believed that everything would be alright, just like you promised.

—

The next day, before you even got up all three of the men had left the house, off to pursue the lead they had been given the previous day. You sighed heavily, missing the warmth of the body next to you, but you filled the small hole with a warm shower and a breakfast of tea with jam and bread.

You weren't sure what you were expecting to happen, but it clearly wasn't what came next.

Helmut came stumbling in, Sam and Bucky behind him, looking unimpressed. He was holding his face like he had been stuck there and you frowned.

"What happened?"

"We encountered a bit of a roadblock," Sam said, attempting to put it lightly. "It wasn't his fault though he just got stuck in the middle of it,"

"Vibranium shield to the face," he mumbled and you nodded.

"Do you need anything?" you asked your ex specifically first, making sure he was tended to.

"Some whiskey and a cold washcloth would do wonders," he groaned, sitting carefully on the couch and laying back.

You poured him a glass of whiskey in the alcohol cupboard and then turned to Sam and Bucky.

"What about you both? No secret injuries?"

"You can trust her," Helmut interjected, laying the towel across his eyes. "She served as a trauma surgeon during the Sokovian civil war,"

"We're fine," Bucky assured you, just as the doorbell rang. "And now I have a feeling that might change,"

"Let me get it," you said before any of them could fight you.

You opened the door to a man in a red and blue uniform, pushing past you along with his partner.

"Where are they?!" he asked angrily walking up the stairs.

"Um excuse me?" you spat, rushing up after them and walking into the living room before they could.

"(Y/N) I wouldn't-,"

You cut Sam off, too blinded by your anger to care.

"I'm sorry, but it's not polite to barge into someone's home unannounced," you looked him dead in the eyes, not wavering on your position.

The man tried to come forward, but you took a step in his direction, stopping him from doing so,

"Don't you fucking dare," you seethed.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked you back, an arrogant cockiness in his voice, demanding, not the good kind.

"Yes, I do know who you are, but who you are doesn't mean two shits, everyone knows you're just desperately trying to fill shoes that were meant for him," you pointed to Sam. "Pathetic,"

Bucky gave Helmut and Sam a look and said, "Well I think it's safe to say I respect your wife and she's not the only person who thinks those things," he looked over to Sam who rolled his eyes, having already expressed his very valid reasons for not taking the shield.

You didn't even feel the need to correct him when he referred to you as Helmut's wife, that didn't matter right now.

"So, I suggest you get your sorry privileged American ass out of my house before I call the cops," you said, looking directly at John.

"I could say the same, your husband is a wanted fugitive," he took a step closer, now looking directly down at you and Helmut stood up, despite his injury, prepared to come to your aid, but you stopped him.

"I said," you inched forward only slightly before placing your hands on his chest and pushing him backwards. "Get the fuck out of my house!"

"John maybe we should-,"

"I warned you, tell Interpol I said hi,"

The two finally left the house and you didn't waste a second, turning around to address Helmut.

"Don't say a fucking word," you pointed at him. "Not a fucking word,"

He raised his hands in defence and you scoffed.

"What the hell are you even doing?! Did you really think oh let me go put myself and my ex-wife in harm's way just so I can fulfil some stupid meaningless goal because I'm a selfish self-centred pig? Because that's what it seems like!"

"(Y/N)-,"

"Helmut, a fugitive!"

"I'm sorry, but what did you think I was?" he asked.

"I don't know?! I guess I just hoped maybe they had let you out, but I should know never to get my hopes up with you,"

"Okay (Y/N) what is this really about," he asked, calmly, placing his glass on the table, standing across from you.

"What is this-" you pinched the bridge of your nose. "Sam, James can you give us a minute please," you whispered.

The two men nodded and left the room, leaving just the two of you.

"Do you want to know what this is really about Helmut? Maybe it's about the fact that after our son died you decided the right thing to do was go and become a terrorist instead of helping your wife pick up the pieces of her broken life!" you screamed at him, letting it all out, no filter. "Maybe it's the fact that you didn't fight for me when I said I wanted a divorce! The fact you couldn't see that I clearly still loved you! Maybe it's the fact that you killed innocent people in your vendetta! Maybe it's the fact that it's your fucking fault my son is dead in the first place!"

Saying it out loud tore your heart out of your chest and you couldn't stop yourself from clutching onto your shirt and breaking down into loud sobs, echoing through the house.

Helmut didn't say anything, only coming up to you and wrapping his arms around your shaking frame. You tried to push him away, hitting his chest lightly, but he stayed firm until you couldn't fight back anymore, your knees buckling as you let him take the majority of your weight.

His nose was buried in your hair, tears spilling out of his eyes and onto your head, his shaky warm breath causing you to grab onto his shirt, baling the fabric in your fists.

"It's okay voylena," he said in a quiet voice, laced thick with heavy emotion breaking more with every word. "It's okay," he repeated. "I blame myself too,"

He blamed himself for everything. What happened to Carl, for the divorce, for your well-being. If only he had known what would happen, then he wouldn't have told you to take Carl to the city, to go to that building, to be among people who were supposed to keep you safe. Maybe if he had known he could have avoided all this pain and heartache. Maybe, just maybe you could still be a family.

But the time had passed, there was no bringing his son back, there was no taking away your pain. So he did the only thing he could do. He didn't stop loving you.

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dystopian-reverie · 3 years ago

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𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲, 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥 || 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Title: Pretty, Pretty Doll

Rating: 18+ for smut, minors dni!

Warnings: p in v, oral (fem receiving), edging, brat taming, characters arguing a lot, fingers kink, choking, solo play, dom!Marc Spector, reader and Marc referring to the reader as a "fuck doll", not beta read, angst/comfort, fluff ingrained into some place I guess?

Summary: Marc comes back home from a mission and you help him let off some steam. A few days later, an argument breaks out between the two of you that leads to him showing you the weight of your own words.

You didn't know how late in the night it was when you were interrupted from stress working, a thing you've been doing a lot lately. You heard the apartment door unlock as you swiftly closed your laptop, all the unsaved work forgotten.

"Marc?" You hurried to hug the man who returned it back all too eagerly.

He shut the door behind him and wasted no time in collecting you in a warm embrace. Marc has been gone for nearly a week, yet another mission from the wretched old bird. Every single time he came back, it looked like he had lost a piece of him wherever he had gone to.

"God, I missed you so much, baby" He whispered, not showing any sign of letting go of the hug. His voice was flat, didn't have that usual tone of relief whenever you ran into his arms.

"Same here," You sighed, as you smiled into his shirt that smelled so much like- him, his "just got back from a mission" version. "Everything alright?" You asked, concerned at the lack of the usual pattern of him kissing you senseless as soon as he has you in his grasp.

Silence. You could only feel him shake his head. "What are you doing up so late?" He asked, as you both finally stepped away from each other. He carried his bag and threw it on the couch mindlessly, all eyes on you.

"Just working, you know. It's the only way I can take my mind off of, well, you. Whenever you're gone," You paused "I can't seem to stop worrying about you" You admitted, smiling to stop yourself from tearing up.

To say that you've been worried about Marc, Steven, and Jake whenever they were off doing the dirty job for Khonshu was an understatement. You knew that they had their suits, but you've been in this crazy world long enough to know that suits of armor and blind bravery can't save you from everything.

A sad smile spread across his face, as he opened his bag to bring out an entire bottle of whiskey and placed it on the table beside him.

"I suppose the mission, this time, was more draining than usual," He said as you made your way to him. "Couldn't get the asshole the first time I went after him, it was one mistake, but before I could get to him again, he-" He paused, shaking his head. You could clearly see the passive frustration engulfing his entire mind. "He had killed someone else". He looked back at you.

You listened to him, your brows knit together the whole time. He was a man who had seen the most twisted and rotten things in his life, felt them, and fought against them. It still surprised you to think that it was you he decided to let in.

The moment your hands met his cheek, he closed his eyes and leaned against you, pulling you in closer till you had to re-adjust and sit on his lap.

"What can I do to make it better?" You asked, your voice no more than a mere whisper.

Talking about it wasn't really Marc's thing, at least not right after he just reached home. He knew that you knew it by now.

Those eyes. Those damn eyes that enticed you every single time he looked at you that way. By now, you knew what was going to happen. He was going to devour you, greedy and raw. That was Marc's thing. Fuck you into oblivion, draw orgasms after orgasms until you were a sobbing mess beneath him, nothing more than a whimpering doll that can't string a coherent sentence together. He loved to hear you beg for him, to cry out his name as he rammed into you, grunting and panting, sweaty bodies moving against each other. The sound and smell of sex would overwhelm your senses as he would whisper absolute filth into your ears, and tell you how much a pretty, pretty doll you were. He would take care of all your needs and his.

His gaze traveled down to your lips and further down to your breast. You were wearing a white t-shirt of his, with no bra underneath, and though it was loose enough, with the way you were sitting, he could make the outline of your nipple harden at all the sinful thoughts clouding your brain.

"What? No 'Marc go take a shower first' or 'Don't you wanna talk about it'?" He smirked ever so lightly as you rolled your eyes and tried to pull him into a kiss, but to your surprise he pushed you away, his hands cupping your face.

Tucking the loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers, grazing painfully slow and soft on your skin, traveled down to your cheek, and to your chin. He drew your face in closer and locked both of your lips together in a heated yet slow and deep kiss.

You moaned into the kiss as he slid his tongue inside your mouth. Your hands tried to take off his shirt hastily, knowing that you'd have to remove yet another layer of a t-shirt to strip his torso naked. But Marc was having none of it.

He grasped both of your hands and held them behind you, cutting off your access to finally touch him after a long, long week. You protested in silence as he pressed your body towards him with the same hand he was holding you captive, making you straddle his hips, his other arm slowly, yet strongly, wrapping around your throat.

Both of you pulled away, slightly panting, lips parted. His eyes were no more tired or sad, as he contemplated all the ways he could keep you up that night. His trained hands kept your arms locked behind you with ease, and kept a firm handle on your throat. His hold wasn't too hard, but it wasn't just a mere touch either.

Heat pooled on your abdomen as you tried to grind against his hardening cock. You were sure your panties were soaking at this point.

"Oh, we've got time for that, doll" He whispered as he yanked you to give you another kiss before letting go of you. "Kneel" He ordered.

You raised your eyebrows as you slowly got off his lap, making sure to give a final push to his crotch, which didn't go unnoticed. You lowered yourself in front of him, and he grabbed the whiskey bottle and took a swing out of it.

Just as your hands swiftly went to undo his pants, he caught you in the middle and leaned down so he was only inches away from your face. His hot breath was not making it easy for you to control yourself.

"Listen to me carefully, baby. Daddy didn't have a very good week, you know that, don't you?" He asked, and you nodded, looking at him through your lashes. "I didn't get to look at pretty sights while I was working," He continued, "But I'm looking at you now and-" His eyes once again traveled all over your body, his lust left unmasked. "I see that you are all for me to consume, aren't you?" He asked and you nodded yet again, rubbing your thighs impatiently as his words churned your insides.

Today was going to be one of those nights. Marc was going to drag this out, take his time, make you beg as if your entire life depended on it- and you know it would, with the way he can deny you things.

"So, I thought, why get this all done so quickly when I can do this all. night. long?" He kissed right below your jaw, drawing a hitched breath from you as his hand cupped your right breast.

"This is what you are gonna do," He said leaning back, letting you simmer in anticipation. He was giving you order and gods forbid if you were not gonna give your fullest. "You're gonna touch yourself, all over yourself, as daddy watches," He took another swing out of his bottle. "My pretty girl's gonna put up a show so good that I fuck her so hard and good tonight, yeah?" His smile was so sinister that you could've nearly broken down where you were kneeling.

Biting your lips as you crawled back a little farther away from him, so he could have a better view, you felt as if his incredibly intent and growingly wild eyes set on you were more than enough to strip you naked. His own brand of pornstar.

You took off the piece of fabric that provided little protection from the cold in a swift move, an excuse to mess up your hair further. Removing yoir soaking panty didn't take long either. While your one hand started brushing your lips and started sucking on them ever so lightly, you leaned back further, balancing on your other hand, spreading your folded knees wider on the floor. You didn't take much time before sucking on them completely, getting them all nice and wet, looking up to see Marc watching you through hooded eyes, his whiskey bottle held in a tight grasp as if his hold on it is the only thing stopping him for grabbing you back to him again.

Saliva dripping to the floor, you let those same fingers travel down to your chin, the valley of your breasts, down to your stomach, and finally to where you needed them the most. You rubbed your aching clit, throwing your head back as the long-needed pleasure coursed through you. Your other hand massaged your breast and circled your fingers around your nipple. You let out a whine, thinking about how good Marc's hot and wet tongue would feel lapping around it, sucking and kissing it just right.

"Faster" His voice was low and commanding, edging so close to a growl, and there was something so dangerously dark about it.

Your fingers obliged all too quickly as it fastened the pace. Heat spread through your thighs and your aching legs. Your other hand was tugging your hair till you felt a low pain on your scalp, but it only added to the pleasure. Everything felt so good and filthy all at once.

All it took to push you over the edge was one look Marc- and you came undone. You let out a loud moan, not caring about anything anymore. You just wanted him to carry you straight to the bedroom and fuck you like the whore you were for him.

And that was exactly what he did that night, praising his doll about how good she was for him while you basked in the glory of making him feel good. His hands were all over you as he fucked you, the bed creaking along with the sinful sounds of the night. It was paradise on Earth yet again.

"Every. Damn. Time!" You yelled at your boyfriend who was in no better mood than you.

"You're the one going off on dangerous missions every once in a while, Marc, and you're trying to sell the whole 'I'm doing this protect us' every time I ask you something about it,"

"And what part of it do you not get?" Marc hissed back. "I've got a past that, one way or another, gonna try to drag me back to my bullshit history, and this time I have to worry about you getting dragged into the mess too. As long as I have Khonshu's power, I can protect us from all that,"

"As long as you Khonshu's power, you're going to get dragged into more new mess and have more memories to bury. You think I can't notice the toll it's taking on you?"

Marc scoffed a humorless laugh that showed his disbelief. "So? What do you want me to do? Leave this all behind and run away somewhere with you so we can live out our perfect little life? I fucking owe him my life, goddammit. The last thing we need is a pissed-off ancient diety on our asses because I couldn't hold up my end of a stupid deal!" He slammed the table, not taking his eyes off of you.

They were wide with rage, trying to make you see some sense.

"But that's not what you want, is it? A perfect, happy life, hmm?" He asked, his voice finally calm, moving towards you. "You want in."

"What the hell do you mean, Marc?" You huffed, trying to act like you were done with this, but deep down, you knew he was edging closer to finally figuring it out.

"I knew it," He let out that same humorless, dry laugh again, leaning down and purposefully looking into your eyes. "This is about Tawaret and her offer, isn't it?"

"What? No!"

"Yeah, then what is it?" Marc was inches away from your face now, challenging you to come up with a reason. "And do not bullshit me with the 'I'm worried about you,"

It was true that Tawaret had asked you to be her avatar on the only mission you've accompanied Marc, something that shouldn't have happened in the first place.

You've seen how being an avatar affected Marc, but that was entirely on Khonshu. You had agreed on being Tawaret's temporary avatar because at that time Marc and Steven were in real danger.

Feeling all the power and using it all to defeat real danger and threat to the innocent, gave an electric jolt that nothing ever gave you in your life. You knew you were incredible at it.

Looking at Khonshu and the Boys' toxic relationship, what you and Tawaret had was one of the sweetest and most efficient partnerships. It was true that you wanted to be her avatar permanently because even if you wouldn't seek danger voluntarily, you can defend people whenever they're in immediate danger.

But what Marc said now pierced right through you. "You- you think that's what this is all for? Just that? You don't believe that I do worry about you?" You cursed yourself for how shaky that line came out.

Appearing weak was the last thing you wanted right now. You held your gaze with him, and you could feel him debating over choosing his next words.

"Why would you even want to get into this life, y/n?" He sighed, appearing exhausted already.

"Because I can do some good, Marc, something that I've always wanted to do for since I can remember" You raised your voice, standing your ground.

"Do some good?" He raised his eyebrows. "Do some good. Do you even comprehend the danger that comes along with it,"

"Tawaret would never ask me to do anything Khonshu asks you to do. He asks you to kill, and Tawaret asks me to defend. There's a difference Marc, and- and besides why the fuck would I need your permission to become an avatar, it would be completely my choice,"

"So you do want to be an avatar," he deadpanned.

"I- I just wanna make sure that whatever you do, you don't have to bear it all alone," You had hoped that you saying this might cease the fight, make him see that all this was completely unnecessary.

But Marc seemed to have other plans. "I'm not bearing it all alone. Whenever I come back, you're here for me, aren't you? You think I'll be able to concentrate out there with you on the field, constantly worried-"

"For fuck's sake I'm not a goddamn baby, Marc! What do you think my job is? To be the faithful wife, worrying about her husband who has gone to war and spends every day moping around and scared to death about what is happening to him? Well don't worry, I already am like that. What you don't seem to get is that I hate it," You snapped back.

"Of course," You scoffed when he couldn't seem to find the words as he stood there, his jaws clenched and his eyes set on you. What else could he say? "You only need me to be your own fuck doll whenever you come back home," You spat, making sure every word was laced with venom.

Everything was still. You were nearly panting and shaking with all that adrenaline. You wanted to go off at him, to yell at him till he finally understands what you were trying to say. You wanted him to say something, anything, really.

"You think that's what you are to me?" he finally asked. He wasn't yelling or mocking you. There was just pure rage-filled curiosity in his voice, the one that spent chills down your spine.

He laughed. Dragging his palms down his face, he looked at you like he has just seen you for the first time ever. "My fuck doll?" He came in closer till there was barely any space between the two of you.

You glared down at him, refusing to elaborate on that because, to be sure, you didn't know where that came from either. Was that how you truly felt whenever he came back from a mission?

He brought his hands to caress your cheeks, looking into your eyes, searching deep for something. You thought he was going to say words of affirmation that you were more than that, that he loved you and would always cherish you- what everyone else would've done.

"Well, if that's what you think you are to me," As he cupped your face with both of his palms, you sense nothing but danger all around the room- the kind of danger that made your insides buzz, especially down there. "Shouldn't you be proven right?" His words increasingly became louder as he yanked you by your arm and dragged you to the bedroom.

It all happened way too quickly. You didn't have any time to voice out your protest as he pushed you onto the bed and started taking off his clothes with a wild vigor. You became hyper-aware of everything he was doing. His muscles flexed with every movement of him taking his shirt off in one swift go, throwing his pants away. His dark and messy curls fell in front of his eyes.

And his eyes, oh God, his eyes. You've never seen them this way, filled with so much carnal desire and impatience, so much anger, and desperation all exploding into a messy mixture that ultimately made you fear and anticipate what was about to happen.

It wasn't before long you realized that you messed up. Bad.

"Let me show you how a fuck doll's gotta be fucked," He whispered more to himself as he got himself on top of you. After nearly ripping your top off of you and unclasping your bra in one go, he grabbed your neck tight and brought you close to his face.

"Since you decided that I only treat you as my whore, you're gonna start behaving as one from now. You do only the things that I allow you to do. Do you understand?" His grip on your throat didn't ease as you made your best effort to nod.

"It's a shame, you know, something so pretty as you, looking at me all wide-eyed and scared, is not gonna get any love today," He mused, studying your face, his grip easing a little. You could feel him fisting himself right above your thighs.

Pushing your body entirely down on the mattress, his one hand secured your throat as the other worked on your pants, removing them in a swift swoop.

"Now you listen to me very carefully," He said as his finger traced the lining of your entrance through your panty. "You are not going to make a single sound, and you are not going get your hands anywhere close to me. They're going to stay there by your side the whole time I fuck you."

As his hands left your neck, he wasted no time before getting between your legs, positioning his mouth in front of your still clothed cunt.

You knew what was different. There were no affectionate kisses, no caressing your body up and down, and definitely no loving words presenting a melody to your ears. This was him fucking his fuck doll.

Kissing your pussy once, he removed the panty and spread your legs to reveal a dripping you, your body responding to him without your permission.

"Always a slut for me, huh, no matter how I treat you," He smirked to himself as you felt heat creep up your cheeks. You'd do about anything to cover your embarrassed face.

He dived in, his skillful tongue licking off all your juice in a swift flick. That's where you messed up the second time- when you let out a loud moan, despite him warning you not to. You quickly covered your mouth, in an attempt to try to undo a mistake, but it was too late anyway.

Marc looked up at you, clearly not very happy. "Do that one more time and see where that gets you," He slapped your thigh as you shut your eyes. That was going to leave an angry mark.

He went back to his work, licking and sucking you in all the right way while you squirmed under him, not being able to move your arms in any way, your lips pursed. You couldn't help but let out the tiniest of whimpers from time to time, but he didn't seem to mind, too busy devouring you as if you were his final meal.

There it was, all that heat that churned inside was concentrating and intensifying in a delightful way, threatening to spill right out of you. You were so close to reaching what you knew was a mind-shattering orgasm.

His moans and all the sinful sounds of him eating you out, his strong grip holding your thighs in place was just enough to push you off the cliff, and there it was, right at your fingertips- right when he pulled away.

You nearly screamed out loud. No, no, no. You wanted to yell out his name and ask him to finish what he started. You could feel the burning hot orgasm flickering away as you tried to catch your breath.

You looked up at him with pleading eyes, but he didn't seem to give a flying fuck about it, as he crawled on top of you with a satisfied look on his face.

He chuckled at your silent whimpers. "What was that?" He mocked you, getting in closer. "Oh right, forgot dolls couldn't speak," He said as he covered your mouth with his palm.

You could feel him positioning his cock in front of your hole. "Can't really trust you with the rules," He mumbled as he secured both of your hands over your head with his killer grip.

He didn't touch you anywhere, didn't say anymore as he fucked you. His grunts and the sound of sex and your silent whimpers were the only sounds in the room, so unlike you and Marc.

As you felt a low orgasm building up inside you, you felt more scared than ever. This was going to be ruined too. Marc was never gonna let you have it. He knows all the tell-tale signs of your body when you were so close to coming.

He fastened the pace, his grunts becoming louder and raspier. Marc was usually the one to continuously string together filthy words that made your insides twist and pussy flutter, but now, not a single word.

You could feel both of you reaching your climax, that sweet, sweet ending, but of course, as expected, he pulled away, knowing damn well that was going to get a cry from you.

He slapped your tit roughly when you made the slightest cry and that made you bite your lips hard enough to make yourself shut up.

"Look what you're making me do," he shook his head, looking down at you. He pushed back a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead, admiring what he's made of you- a panting and unsatisfied mess.

"Do you think this is how I wanna fuck you? Hmm?" He asked his palms stroking your cheeks and neck.

He looked so beautiful from where you were to the point it didn't feel fair. His sculpted face and body, his raspy breaths, his eyes that spoke many unspeakable emotions all at once, it was all too much, to the point where you could feel tears stinging your eye.

"Marc," You called to him weakly, and nothing followed that, but he knew- he understood.

He got down to kiss you. It was so passionate. Your lips moved together, conveying about a dozen different emotions. Anger, disappointment, forgiveness, love, lust, worry, love, love, love.

He cradled your head as his lips moved to your cheeks, your jawline, down to your neck, crafting art of his own, a beautiful canvas for him to paint with his teeth and tongue. Surely something he would admire in a few more minutes.

You didn't know if all the rules were still effective. That was when he took your aching arms and brought them up to his hair, letting your fingers comb through it. You let out a loud moan of relief as he kept on kissing you everywhere his mouth could find your skin.

"This," He breathed "is how I want to make love to you," His hands soothed your thighs, stroking up and down. "Because I love you," He kissed your forehead. "I need to feel you with me, everywhere on me," He left a trail of kisses. "Because you're my girl, do you get it?" He broke the kisses to look down at you, his eyes wide and pleading, begging you to understand how much you meant to him.

You nodded slowly, a slow smile dawning on your face. Marc couldn't help but smile along with you.

"And now," His sudden movement caught you off guard. He grabbed your legs to swing them over his shoulders. "We'll get down to some actual fucking, shall we?"

"Oh GOD Yes, Marc,"

"That's my girl," He smirked. Off he went, thrusting deeper and deeper inside you till all you could feel was his hands roaming all over you and how good it felt when he stretched you open.

"Does my cock make you feel good, baby?" Marc grunted and you nodded frantically. Whatever self-control you had over your body had left you, leaving you entirely in Marc's mercy.

"Open your mouth," He commanded. As soon as you obliged, Marc slipped two of his fingers into it. "Suck on them"

And you did, all nice and slow as you coated them with slick, your eyes nearly rolling back to your skull.

A sliver of saliva still connecting his fingers and your lips for a little while, he brought those fingers down to your clit and rubbed them in circles.

At this point, you weren't even sure you were saying anything coherent, just chanting his name over and over again like that's the only thing you knew how to do.

It was just the two of you. The evening slowly gave way to night to rule the sky as you and Marc made love, sweeter and hotter than anything you've felt. Both of you were pressing on to each other in a hundred different ways, burning skins asking for more and more.

The warm and familiar signs of orgasm filled your abdomen again, tightening your insides. Your toes curled as your nails dug into Marc's shoulders.

"Come along with me, baby. That's the way, come with me. With me," He said, holding your head in one hand and working miracle down on your clit with the other one.

Your release was unlike anything you've ever experienced. Everything became merged into one, and time didn't make sense. Your back arched as you and Marc came together. You could feel him releasing inside you, giving you everything that he has.

His hips ground to a halt as he at last rode out both of your orgasms. He slid out of you and fell down on the bed, right beside you, both of you panting, sweating mess.

He gathered you into his arms, cradling you near to his body. Placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he lifted up your face to face him.

"I love you," He said every word like his entire life depended on them, and at that moment, for him, it truly did. "And no amount of fighting is going to change that fact,"

"I know," You whispered back. "I love you so much too," You smiled back at him, snuggling closer to him.

"Ready to talk about this whole thing like adults in the morning?" He asked, raising his eyebrows and you nodded, giggling a little.

"Now let's get you cleaned up," he said, reluctantly getting out of bed, earning a groan from you.

Rest assured, that night went ahead with no bumps, with both of you feeling more complete and loved than ever. He was yours, you were his, and no amount of deities and their powers can change that.

A/N: This is it!! My first ever fic after 3 long years of terrible writer's block, I hope this wasn't very hard to read, I'm still a lot rusty. I'd absolutely love to hear your opinions on it, and reblogs are greatly appreciated :))

Also, this is my first ever smut fic ever, I hope it wasn't too bad, alright I'll leave y'all to it.

Also, shoutout to @jakelcckley @laters-gators @budcooper @astroboots @stormkobra-5 these amazing writers who predominantly write for Oscar and his characters for unintentionally giving me enough motivation and pulling me out of my block with their amazing works. Please do go check them out, they're all absolutely amazing.

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