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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years

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When You Become A Fallen

(( This premise is about reader being one of the Seraphim, and she was/fell in love with one of the brothers, which made God shun her from the Celestial Realm, and thus, how each of the brothers helps her through her transformations to a Demon and her new lifestyle. ))

---

LUCIFER

Quite frankly, he took it the hardest, as he too was a Seraph back in the days, God’s most beloved angel, and the descend changed him a lot, even if he doesn’t want to admit.

When he saw your broken form on the ground, he cradled your body close to his chest, feeling fear and panic just as when Lilith almost died, so he went to plead to Diavolo to allow you permanent stay in the Devildom as well, saying that he’ll do anything for this favour, just like before.

Centuries passed since he descended, and while he still has nightmares of what happened, the pain and transformation were something that he forced himself to forget, at least for his own pride and ego, but seeing you in such excruciating pain was an even worse torture than before.

He knew there was little he or anyone else could do regarding all this, but he will be there by your side for the whole duration of it, no matter how long it took, be it days, weeks or months, he wouldn’t be pried away from you.

For the most of the day, Lucifer had you sit on his lap, both of you wearing light sleeping wear, so you could feel each other’s body heat, thinking it would help ease the pain, even by a little.

However, as soon as your 3 pairs of majestic, pure white wings started blankening, while one of the pairs also started burning, feather by feather, you became unreasonable, as you couldn’t even think or speak properly because of the agony surging through your every artery, vein, capillary and nerve in your body.

You were desperately clinging to him, scratching his back and arms, screeching for forgiveness, begging him to kill you already and end this pain, questioning what you did wrong, except have pure and unwavering feelings of love for someone, and all Lucifer could do was hold you tightly, a had on the back of your head, putting your face on the crook of his neck, while the other was on your back, putting you glued to his chest, trying to keep you still and potentially causing yourself more damage.

“WHY, GOD, WHY?! WHAT HAVE I DONE SO WRONG TO FALL OUT OF YOUR GRACES?! IS IT REALLY FORBIDDEN TO FOLLOW YOUR HEART AND FEELINGS?! CURSE YOU! CURSE THE CELESTIAL REALM! CURSE ALL YOUR FUCKING ANGELS! YOU ARE A MONSTERS!” you kept crying out, cursing the skies, and Lucifer, in his head and heart, was yelling the same thing as you were.

His own heart was crying out in despair seeing his beloved like that, and for the first time since Lilith, he shed tears of pure sorrow, cursing God, the Celeastial Realm and all the angels there, and more, cursing himself for allowing both of them to become lovers back when they were angels, because his act of rebelling against God only brought you intense suffering.

There is nothing Lucifer wouldn’t do for you, no matter how impossible it seemed, but you are the only person he ever had such a connection with, so he treasures you as much as his own brothers.

He knows how difficult it was for him to completely accept he was a Demon and blend in to this new place, but he will be there for you to guide and teach you with every step you took, always holding you hand, always giving you genuine and tender smiles to help you feel more at ease, and of course, he will make sure you room with him so you won’t ever be alone and afraid again.

---

MAMMON

He freaks out so bad at first, questioning you out loud a thousand questions, while fidgeting from leg to leg and looking around for help.

Why were you here? Why were you injured? What happened? Are you alright?

Of course you weren’t alright, damn it! Stupid Mammon! Do something!

He picked you up and brought you to Lucifer, crying desperately and asking what the hell he was supposed to do, because he had no idea what the hell happened and why you were the way you are, and for the first time in ages, Lucifer didn’t yell at him, nor did he insult him - He actually helped him as much as he could, because he knew what was going on, and his heart broke at seeing his beloved little brother crying like that.

In his room, you wouldn’t stop crying and holding your head - You had migraines, your scalp was burning, your whole skin felt ablaze, you felt akin to a witch being burnt alive, and poor Mammon was crying along with you, not knowing if he should touch you, in fear of hurting you more, or holding you tightly and letting you cry away everything that hurt.

Mammon tried to kiss your tears away, put on music to help you keep your mind away from the pain, tried to tell you silly stories from his failed plans, or from his brothers to make you laugh, but in the end, nothing really helped, and he felt that the sky fell on him.

That is, until he turned away from you, gripping his hair in despair as he was running out of ideas to help you and his heart was being ripped apart more and more...But you gripped on his jacket and pulled him in a tight embrace from the back, resting your forehead on the blades of his shoulders, making him stop dead in his track, stiff as a board.

“Mammon, it hurts...Mammon, don’t leave me, please...Please keep on staying me me. Don’t leave me again. I missed you so much...So much that I didn’t even realise that the whole Celestial Realm knew I was in love with you ever since you were an angel...Everyone knew, except for me...But I missed you so much...And they said it’s forbidden. But I can’t live without you.” you sobbed, your fingers and nails digging into his chest as you confessed your sin and the reason you got in this position, which frankly, it made Mammon feel both guilty and even more head over heels with you.

Honestly, nobody ever expressed their feelings to him the way you did, unless it was Stupid Mammon left and right...But you...You were being so genuine and pure...You were real...You loved him...And now there was no barrier between you two...

He cursed himself for being happy with what happened, despite your agony, but he was a greedy man, and he craved your affection more than flowers need the Sun, so he continued to try to put a smile on your face and make the transformation easier to bear with.

Realising that your horns were beginning to grow, he transformed into his demon self and taking your hands in his gingerly, he put them over his own horns, reassuring you that everything will be okay, that they will grow pretty fast and all the agony will go away soon.

When the transformation was done, he was extremely overprotective of you becoming a student at RAD, dragging you with him everywhere, but he tried to be more responsible this time, as he had to take care of you and he couldn’t risk some angry witches or other demons attacking you to get to him.

--- LEVIATHAN

Kinda like Mammon, he was panicked beyond belief, not understanding how the hell did you get yourself in that position, but instead of freaking out, he kinda looked at you, stunned, unmoving, until he finally managed to snap out of it and carried you to his room, while calling Lucifer and telling him the gist of it.

Levi knew that his room was incredibly aesthetic and relaxing, having an aquatic theme, so hopefully, it will help you bear with the transformation and adaptation to this new life-style easier, and hopefully, not have any problems with blending in, especially since he will be there for you at every step you took.

And if that wasn’t enough, since Levi barely leaves the room, he would shelter you like a mother would her little baby, coddling you, wrapping his tail around you protectively, helping you take slightly cold baths to get rid of the burning and itching sensation of your horns and wings transforming, and showing you Henry 2.0 and promising you that he will be your best friend too.

However, the transformation for you wasn’t as bad as the spiraling and paranoia that seemed to completely engulf you, which made you quite hysterical for a while, and no amount of video games and anime could prepare Levi for this mess.

“Levi, what if they come after me? What if they aren’t happy with me being alive? What if they take me back and try to torture me to death? I don’t want back there again...Levi, I’m afraid, please protect me.” you clutched his blouse while sobbing in his shoulder, and all he could do was hold you tightly and promise you that everything will be okay and he would let nobody touch you again.

He would then start telling you about TSL and how The Lord of Shadows will always be there to protect his Henry, which is when you asked him if he would be your Lord of Shadows, and his face started blushing like crazy, and he vowed to himself that you, his most precious person, will never ever have to feel any kind of pain ever again, and he will be there for you no matter what.

Levi understands what’s like being afraid, nervous, anxious, which is something he often feels himself, and thus, the reason for preferring to take online classes rather than going physically to a classroom, which is something that he will ask for for you too, and thankfully, Lucifer approves of it, understanding the situation.

His hectic sleeping schedule is always messed up by his love for binge-watching and binge-playing, something you often partake into as a way to keep the intrusive thoughts away from your head, and it is rather effective.

However, on the occasions that you’re having a mental breakdown and start spiraling once again, no matter what hour of the day or night it is, Levi will be there to tell you how he loves you, how you’re safe with him, that nobody would ever dare cross Diavolo’s rules on his own domain, and that those angels up there were shitheads for prosecuting you for something as pure as loving someone.

--- SATAN

Out of all the demon brothers, he is obviously the only one who didn’t have to go through the whole metamorphosis ritual, because he never was an angel to begin with.

He knows, however, the excruciating pain that you’re going through, as him and Lucifer share some of the more powerful emotions and memories he used to have, and so, he has an idea, backing up all the stories he heard from 3rd parties, from his brothers and from books.

Satan will make all of his brothers send him thorough voice messages to explain what they went through and how he could help you, and thus, he would be pampering and taking care of you every second, without a second thought.

He couldn’t believe that you truly fell for him after just one year of spending time together, during the exchange-student program, when you came to Devildom...I mean, he was a demon, and while yes, he too fell for you, he was in shock hearing that such a pure and perfect being such as yourself would ever harbour such feelings for him, a demon, and the Avatar of Wrath nonetheless...

“Satan...Why...Why is it such a sin to fall in love? What have I done so cruel...So unforgivable...That I deserve to go through all this pain...All this agony...All I wanted was to be happy...Is that so selfish of me to ask? Am I not allowed to live the rest of my life with someone that I genuinely cherish so much...?” she cried with so much self-hatred that it made Satan want to burn the whole Celestial Realm and torture and rip apart every feather, every limb of those stupid angels and flay them alive, letting the lesser demons eat them.

The pain you’re being subjected to is exhausting you so much, but if you stand still, it feels like it’s hurting tenfold, so you try to keep yourself moving around the room, until you collapse from over-exerting your already frail body.

Satan would only look at you in pity, as he tried to hide the burning rage he harboured in his heart, along with all the death-threats he wanted to throw away at God and all the stupid angels who dared do this to you, so he picks you up gently, putting you on his bed, puts a light blanket over you and goes to prepare a cup of calming tea that has somnolent effects, hoping that it would help you heal faster and regain some of your strength through resting.

He would hold you close to his chest, kissing your forehead, stroking your hair, trying to keep you drowsy and calm, while also reading you one very interesting book, Harrison Porter, as it had lots of magic spells and he could show you the spells, to fascinate you, and try to keep your thoughts away from the pain.

Of course, he would be researching all remedies, spells and treatments to help ease the pain, so he would be rubbing creams with and lotions on your back and on your wings, to calm down the pain, would put spells on you to give you sweet dreams every night, and would always hold you tightly and promise you that nobody would ever come with any ill-intent towards you, and that he would kill anyone who dares even look at you the wrong way.

Since he has always been a demon, he is very popular and sociable, so blending in would be much easier with him by your side, as he would take you as his date everywhere - Be it a sports game, a theater play, an opera play, a ballet, a social gathering, a ballroom dance, a drive-outside cinema, or colour festival, a concert...Or literally anything.

---

ASMODEUS

No matter how dramatic and extra Asmo loves to be, this was no joking matter, and the person he knew he could always rely on, and that was his eldest brother, Lucifer, the only being that he ever looked up to, that he ever admired - Lucifer, the one who used to be a Seraph, just like you.

He wanted to understand what Lucifer went through, because sure, Asmo knew the physical transformations his brother went through, but he couldn’t know of the emotional trauma, or how different it was for him, as he was, after all, the highest-ranking angel in the Celestial Realm.

He then correlated with how disgusted he remembered both himself and Lucifer felt when looking into the mirror and realising they weren’t the divine beings from before, but a wretched abomination, and how long it took them to come to terms with the idea, and finally try to find the specks of beauty that others saw in them, despite the changes.

It was true, you went through a lot of pain, exhaustion, mental breakdowns, trauma, all because of how agonising the transformation was, and Asmo was there for you to brighten up and ease you through everything, not wanting you to be alone, like they were, so seeing his gorgeous and loving smile always seemed to make the corners of your mouth tilt upwards, even by a little bit.

Asmo would cuddle you and pamper you with an infinite amount of kisses, and of course, would give you frequent back rubs, wing massages, scalp massages, knowing that those were the most painful and affected areas, and thankfully enough, all the beauty products he used on you were cool and had calming and painkilling effects, so at least was better for you.

When it was all over, however, the horror didn’t end, as you saw yourself in the mirror and fell to your knees shrieking at your new appearance...That wasn’t you...It couldn’t be you...This...This abomination...This tainted thing...

Your desperation and self-hatred were so through the roof that you punched the mirror and clutched the shards in your hands, not even feeling any pain, because everything was ablaze anyway, and not even your tears could pull out the fire inside you.

Asmo was devastated seeing you like this, it made him want to sob, to pull you to his chest and cry out, telling him how he hates seeing you like this, that you remind him of himself, that deep inside him, despite all the narcissism he puts on display, he is also still a bit insecure and wishes he had the same appearance as before...But what hurt him the most was seeing you hating yourself so much, and having ended up like him, just because your heart chose the wrong person to have such intense feelings for.

“This is not me...This can’t be me...Asmodeus, what the hell is wrong with your mirror, it’s broken...It’s cursed...This isn’t me, this isn’t how I look...It can’t be...My wings...My feathers...They are all black...And these horns...And this gem...And the markings...This new outfit...What is this...Why...Why me...Why...?! Why am I being cursed for being in love?! Is this how ugly, tainted and abominable my soul is?! Is that why I look like this?! Is that WHY I became this?!” you tore away at your hair, as Asmo could only fix the mirror quickly, to avoid you getting more injured, and cradled your smaller form to his chest, whispering reassuring words and compliments.

He would do all his beauty routines with you, would compliment you endlessly, would make you try out a thousand and more outfits that he bought for you, showing you off, taking pics of you and boasting with you on DevilGram, since you’re the most gorgeous babe alive and he’s lucky to have you in his life, and now, you and him are the most beautiful couple ever to exist, without a doubt.

He would never tell you all the emotional trauma and self-hatred he went through, because as long as he could make you smile and help teach you how to love yourself again, and see the beauty in your new appearance, Asmodeus was happy and didn’t need anything else.

--- BEELZEBUB

For poor Beel, this was the whole Lilith problem all over again, blaming and hating himself for letting her die (sort of), and now, here you were, a Fallen, broken, lost, depressed, all because you loved him, and he loved you, but he rebelled and now you were caught in the crossfire.

No matter how kind and sweet he is, this is the second time the Celestial Realm crushed his heart and stomped on his feelings, hurting the people he loves most, and this was too much...He would never be able to forgive them, no matter what...And especially not his Father for being so cruel with the angels that loved him so much and were beyond devout to him.

For him, the changes weren’t as painful, and that may be because of his built, and how he finds it easier to deal with physical pain, rather than the emotional one, as he feels like he’s getting blow after blow in that aspect, but he must be strong, for you, for Belphie, for Lilith and for his brothers too.

Beel knows he’s very physically strong, even by demon standards, so he will be a bit afraid at the beginning to touch you, fearing that he will make you hurt more than you already do, but as soon as you nestle yourself in his embrace, he can’t help himself and he puts his arms around you, making you feel safer, protected, and you can deal the agony better, even by a bit.

If he could, he would take away all the pain that you’re feeling, he would go through all that agony a thousands times, just so he could spare you all this pain, he would volunteer to get his wings burnt, grow a new set of horns, would even let himself go through all the paranoia, the nightmares, the burning feeling of your skin...Even the incapacity to eat demon food...Only to spare you of all that horror...

But that wasn’t possible, unfortunately, so all he could do was stay by your side through all of it and try to make it more bearable, because, after all, he still had Belphie, so he wasn’t alone, and neither will you be.

He completely forgot how, at the beginning, for quite a long time, his body refused to digest demon food, so he would get sick and vomit every time he would try to eat something, but was quickly reminded when you made a sprint to the bathroom and he could only hold your hair as you puked your guts out, crying at the pain.

“Why do I have to go through this...God...Why...The wings...The horns...And now, I can’t even eat? Am I supposed to just starve to death...? Is that what you want, Father? Is this the Divine Punishment I get for wanting my loved ones to be safe? That I wanted to see you and tell you how much I care for you, because I never got the chance when you were still an angel? Is that how angels should really be? Hateful of others? Then I’m glad I don’t have to associate myself with such cruel creatures like you, Father!” you growled in anger, frustration, pain, hatred and agony, letting out all your feelings that have been bottled up for so many centuries, but at least now, Beel was there to hold you tight and tell you that everything will be okay, and you still have him.

He would completely stop eating around you, because despite being the Avatar of Gluttony, he couldn’t possibly tempt you with food and make you feel worse, so every so often, he would bring you some light human food, like crackers, water, milk, some vegetables, toast, to help you get some nutrients for your body, so you won’t collapse, at least, even though it was obvious you were becoming paler and skinnier, which worried Beel a lot.

Even so, Beel was always by your side, carrying you if you felt weak at some moment, helping you eat bit by beat, making sure you get a healthy portions, and just the right foods, integrating some little bits of demon food, and before you knew it, you were completely able to have a proper demon meal, and were getting better.

From then on, you will always sleep in his bed, either cuddling or holding hands, because both of you are afraid of losing the other, of having through go through all that torture again, but at least the day was much brighter and you could inally go out together and live your life as a normal student in Devildom would.

--- BELPHEGOR

The Avatar of Sloth has so much pent up rage and hatred, that he may need to take over the title of Avatar of Wrath before long.

First, hating the whole human world, because of Lilith’s death, hating demons because of the misunderstanding with Diavolo and Lucifer, and now, wanting to burn and torture to death the whole Celestial Realm for shunning you like that, letting you to rot, broken, on the ground, as if you were worth less than a vermin.

It took every ounce of self-control Belphegor had to stop himself from unleashing his hatred on the world, and get you to his room to tend to you, hoping and doing his best to make sure you are alright.

He is going to force Beel to keep him awake, because, due to his Avatar Sin, he is prone to falling asleep quite easily, which would only be counter-productive and he wouldn’t be able to sooth your pain and fears this way, so he’s going to sacrifice days and nights of sleep just to make sure you’re not crying anymore.

No matter how harsh his speech is, it does a complete 180 when it comes to you, he will speak in the softest voice possible, would look at you with the most tender look on his face, would give you lost of reassuring gentle kisses, would stroke your hair soothingly, while also humming an old lullaby that Lilith used to sing to him, and would brush away the hair from your face, to see your gorgeous eyes sparkling.

He hates seeing you in so much pain, but every time he curses the angels in his head, he’s just going to hug you tighter, as a way to stop himself from crying at your misfortune, because you’re too pure and kind, you don’t deserve to go through all this pain, it’s just not fair...

What was worse is that, after all this physical mess ended, the emotional and mental one only began, as you weren’t able to get a wink of sleep, because of all the nightmares plaguing your mind all the time, waking you up, making you cry and scream, tremble in fear and anxiety, while all Belphie could do was to hug you tightly, turn on the light, and tell you the same generic reassuring words because...What else was there for him to even say anymore?!

“I’m scared, Belphie, I’m scared...I’m afraid that if I fall asleep, I’m just going to get more nightmares, and maybe I won’t even wake up after that. I’m afraid that if I wake up, you will be taken away from me...Or that they will drag me back to the Celestial Realm to torture me for treason...I’m afraid I’ll have to go through all that over and over and over again...Belphie, I’m exhausted, I’m losing my mind...I just want to have one fucking night of proper sleep...Just one...Is that too much to ask? Am I really that undeserving of feeling rested, just because I fell in love? Is that how things are for those perfect frauds up there?!” you sobbed, clinging on Belphie, as he could only curse them together with you, giving you approving words, and cuddling with you, you try to fall asleep on his cow-patterned pillow, lights still on, drinking a cup of hot milk with honey, thanks to Beel who went to prepare some for the both of you.

Even for him, who has been a demon for so long, nightmares never ended, but at least they weren’t as frequent as yours, so to help you out, even by a bit, he started looking around for remedies, spells, drinks, to get you into a deep sleep with no dreams, at least for now, to help you regain even a bit of your strength back and not be a zombie anymore.

Belphie would get incredibly passive-aggressive and protective of you, growling at anyone that may be considered a threat to you, that approaches you, and wouldn’t let you alone for even a second, in fear of somehow losing you - You’re either with him, or with one of his brothers, or in yours or his room, and frankly, you’re happy knowing that you can finally feel a sense of security after so long.

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internalsealpanic · 3 years

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All That Glitters

Summary: Pandora’s box is a black box covered in silk and embossed with the initials R.S.

a/n: So uh this work is a follow up to my fic Better Die than Doubt but it can be read as a stand alone. This thing resulted from the combined might of @knightfall05x, @lucy-roo, and my thirst. I said the follow up to that fic would be fluffy. The chronological follow up will come out at some point. I just have a single braincell and it decided it wanted to write more Black Mask being an absolute bastard. Thanks to those two hoes for enabling and proof reading. See you both in hell

warnings: This is smut. I was being haunted. This work contains noncon, past noncon, violence, Roman being an asshole, daddy kink, size kink, strength kink (if you squint ), yandere themes, stalking, exhibitionism, a dude who cannot take no for an answer and choking.

masterlist

“Hey Jay,” You chirp into the phone, maneuvering it over your shoulder carefully so you wouldn't drop it while you held your soda can at an arm's length away from you hoping it wouldn’t explode on you when you attempt to open it.

“Hey, sweet-” You blow out a raspberry halting the correction in its tracks. You can practically picture Jason’s mouth swerve into an odd shape caught between proceeding with his correction or backtracking. He chose neither. You hear him swear viciously. You snort making him huff.

“What’s up, asshat?” He asks, endearingly. You can pretty much hear him rolling his eyes from this side of the world. You frown hearing how winded he sounded.

“Jay, if this is a bad time, I can-”

“You’re fine it’s just a little-”

“JAYBIRD, A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE”

“Roy sounds like he needs help. I can call back later.”

“Roy can handle himself.”

“Thanks for the confidence, Jaybird, but I think I’d prefer if you kept shooting straight.”

You snort feeling warmth build up in your chest despite the chilly weather. You chirp delighted when you open the can and it doesn’t explode. You hear Jason chuckle. The smart remark he had on the edge of his tongue dies on his lips when your breath hitches audibly at the sound of his gun firing. Jason makes a noise, the kind you use to prompt someone to tell you if they’re ok without having to ask. You swallow and nod and curse remembering he can’t see you. You blow out a breath, making sure it comes out steady.

“Y/n...”

“I’m-” You wanted to say fine but you knew the word fine was wholly inappropriate and untrue for this situation. “I’m gonna survive. I promise.”

Jason doesn’t make a sound of agreement or disagreement. He simply acknowledges it. You silently thank him for the neutrality.

“JAYBIRD”

“SHUT UP, HARPER”

You hear Kory sigh in exasperation somewhere in the distance. In the background, you hear a shriek which you assume is from Jason. Then the line cuts out.

You try to redial.

Nothing.

You try again.

Nothing.

A laugh rips out of your chest. You cry out in pain, the fizzy drink rushing up your nose. You wince and curse and settle on blaming Jason. You suspect they somehow broke the phone. You wouldn’t be too surprised by that outcome. You sigh but there was no point in complaining about it. You might as well finish your lunch in peace.

You chew on your cheek as you walk back to your cubicle, everyone’s eyes are on you. You feel your breathing pick up a fraction of a second faster.

One

Two

Fuck

You dig your nails into your palm. Your footfalls become heavier and a little louder even against the white noise around you. You slowdown and shake your head. You haven’t had an attack at work so far and you aren’t about to start now. You inhale deeply, letting your chest expand as you run through the things Dinah taught you.

Take stock of the situation around you.

The world around you was buzzing with life-shuffling papers, ringing phones, humming of machines, and blips of voices here and there. The room is bright and clean under the light of sterile fluorescent lights. You take in all the voices around you. You’re not alone. The knot building in your shoulders loosens. You continue.

Take stock of your body.

Your body is trembling, the beginnings of a panic attack looming over you. Instead of cursing it, you let it. It was only natural to relapse once in a while. The trauma wasn’t fresh. Not in your opinion, at least. Dinah and, apparently, everyone else had a different opinion. You’re good at being ok but you were human. You let out a long breath, half-tempted to let your eyes slide shut but you’re afraid of finding yourself in that room again, of seeing him, of feeling him on you. Revulsion spasmed in your body in powerful waves. Sure, you’re a showboat, Jay had said as much, but showing off and causing a scene were two entirely different things and you weren’t entirely sure you could endure the looks of pity from your coworkers every time you came through those doors.

Stiffly, you walk towards your cubicle. Your neighbor, Chelsea, smiling conspiratorially at you while your manager glares daggers at you. You raise an eyebrow at Chelsea who waggles her eyebrows in return.

“This is how you tell me I got fired?” You sigh, a smile twitching at the corners of your mouth.

Chelsea rolls her eyes at you. “Nope, but the boss man did want me to tell you to tell your boyfriend that he really shouldn’t be sending you gifts at work but honestly, I …...” Your brows knit in confusion, cold dread licking at the pit of your stomach.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You say slowly trying to keep the mounting panic out of your voice. You could hear your blood pulsating in your ears, heart threatening to jump out of your chest. Your feet are itching for you to run outside and call Jason or Dinah or anyone but the stupider part of you- the curious part of you was clawing at your mind to proceed.

“Y/n, are- are you ok?” You blink and look at the clock. Two minutes. You blacked out for two minutes which, if you were being totally honest, was a huge improvement.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“If you say so” She shrugs, her eyes still not pulling away from you.

Mechanically, you turn to your desk. Your entire being freezes when your eyes land on the black box sitting on the desk and the large bouquet of red roses sitting next to it. The box was rectangular, black with silver trimmings embossed on it. Large ‘R.S.’ written in fancy lettering at the bottom right corner of the lid. You wanted to vomit.

You draw a breath and flex your fingers. You can feel your teeth digging into your cheeks.

“Hey, Chel?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I borrow some tissues?” You ask your voice barely above a whisper but still miraculously steady. She frowns at your handing you a couple of tissues. Normally, you keep your vigilante habits out of your civilian life but considering the initials embossed on this obnoxiously expensive-looking box sitting on your desk, you think this level of paranoia is justified.

You stop to calculate the odds that the box contained explosives which turns up zero. You sigh but a shiver climbs up your spine when you run through the possibilities of what Roman could have thought of as a gift.

“Y/n, what the fuck?” If Chelsea wasn’t watching you before, she was now. You glance at her quickly and give her a weak smile. You swallow the lump forming in your throat. Cautiously, you lift the lid quietly regretting not calculating the possibility of anything toxic being in it. You’re honestly surprised nothing happened. You roll your eyes upon seeing the expensive-looking black silk covering the inside.

Yes, rub your money in my face while you scare me shitless why don’t you, you fucking asshole, you think grumpily peeling the fabric away.

Your heart comes to a full stop when you’re met with a pair of lacy lingerie. Your lacy lingerie. Your USED lacy lingerie. You blink trying not to focus on the white stains. You sincerely did not want to think about that. Moving them aside you find a bloody shirt, the sound of its shifting fabric making gooseflesh spread all over your body.

You recognize it. You didn’t want to, but here it was. The bloodstains were dry but they were still visible even against the dark fabric of the shirt. Your skin prickles where the scars on your body sit. The knife wounds sting and throb as if freshly cut. It takes everything in you not to vomit.

It was probably the single-minded curiosity that kept you going. You maneuver the shirt carefully making sure it makes as little sound as possible. Underneath it is a collar, simple but clearly expensive leather with the tag R.S. glittering under the sterile lights. Your throat constricts. You tear your gaze away. Your eyes sting. Next to it was a stack of photos. The top photo showed you with your, shirt torn exposing your breasts. Someone was inside you, gripping your hips. You gag. You reign your mind in. You flip the stack over and gather your breath. Your heart stops again when you see Roman’s familiar handwriting on the back of a photo.

“Miss me?”

The drive back to your apartment was a blur consisting of what was most likely several severe traffic violations but you needed- you need to get out of town as quickly as possible. The odds of Roman himself showing up to your little town was low, very low. Not that you’ve actually calculated it. You don’t need to. The man walks around like his feet bless every surface they touch. The man has a loaded god complex the size of Russia to put it generously. Fetching you was simply beneath him. He had henchmen for a reason after all.

You wave to your landlady and her husband amiably as you walk past them keeping the nervous thrum out of your movement. Your landlady returns the gesture, elbowing her sneering husband. You know what he thinks of you and your habits. Take a few guys home with you and suddenly you’re a slut. Your promiscuity was none of his fucking business. Your body was yours to do with, to give, and to take back. It was yours. It’s yours, you assure yourself but the feeling of your body and mind hanging loosely off of each other feels painfully vivid at the moment.

You shake your head. This wasn’t the best time to sort out your hang-ups.

You press your ear to your apartment door then remembered just how thick it was and remembered that you didn’t exactly have super hearing. You sigh. What you would give to be Supes right about now. You enter the apartment careful not to make your steps audible. That, however, was rendered moot by the two very large and blocky men standing in your living room. You exhale both in frustration and relief. If Roman Fucking Sionis thinks he can scare you with two meatheads, he was clearly insulting you. Well, at least, he didn’t hire anyone actually competent considering all your gear was in a duffle bag tucked neatly away under your bed. Yanno, just for this sort of eventuality. Now that you think about it. You really should have just kept it in your car but small-town crime seems to have softened you.

You smile letting the irritation mold you into something sharp and venomous. You throw the box at one of the henchmen goading them to attack you. Its contents scattering all over the floor. You can’t bring yourself to care that some of the photos land right side up.

“Tell your chicken shit of a boss to come scare me himself,” You laugh, manic relief flooding through you. You feel like you’re going mad but you don’t care. It’s so much more feasible to deal with these men than it is to have to even think about Roman. “He doesn’t even have the balls to-”

“Well, it’s nice to see you too, Sweetheart.” comes a gravelly voice from the bedroom. Your stomach drops. Roman strides out of your bedroom adjusting the cuff link of his obnoxiously expensive suit. He looks down to the photos and gifts scattered on the ground, frowning he bends down to pick up the collar, dusting it off and stuffing it in his pocket.

Your fight or flight response freezes. You back into the door, the material feeling too solid for the moment. You inhale sharply, only managing short shallow breaths as Roman slowly closes the distance between you. His footfalls loud, heavy, and deliberately casual making your blood thrum.

No. No. No.

Your eyes flicker wildly around the room looking for any weapon within reach, your mind running through the numbers, the probabilities melding together into incoherent blotches of red in the back of your skull. Roman slams his large hands on either side of your head. The impact makes the door creak. You can’t stop yourself from flinching visibly, surprise and fear carving themselves on to your face. Roman barks out a derisive laugh as he trails a leather-clad finger down your chin, your throat, then to your cleavage. The contact against your bare skin makes you bristle.

“This here?” He emphasizes, his fingers playing with the top button of your shirt popping it carelessly revealing your baby pink, lace bra hidden beneath. “This is a little low cut for the office, isn’t it, princess?”

Annoyance overwhelms your sense of self-preservation. “I’m not about to take fashion advice from a guy who looks like he watches Scar Face daily.” You snipe, teeth bared. Roman hums the undercurrent of rage filling the air. Your ribs ache, remembering an old injury. Your mouth slams shut cutting off any other snide remarks.

“You wear these clothes to wind me up, don’t you?” Roman drawls, his leather-clad fingers tracing up the expanse of your thigh exposed by the slit of your skirt, bunching up the skirt and playing with the waistband of your thong as he does so. His thumbs pressing circles against your inner thigh, you can’t help but quiver under his touch. “Oh the fun hasn’t even started yet...just wait”, he bites your ear lobe and tugs it between his teeth. He pulls back and glares at you. “Do you want to know how I found you in this dead-end town, princess?” He asks tilting your chin with his gloved hand. You shake your head not really interested at the moment. You’re too distracted by how flush your body was getting as he presses you further into the door with his bulk. You note with disgust the arousal suffusing through your limbs.

“You were all over the news, sweetheart,” You’re trying to remember what he could possibly be talking about. He leans in closer, leather-clad hand brushing against his thumb against your bottom lip, your lips parting automatically for him. He places his gloved thumb between your parted lips. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize that goofy smile of yours?” You shiver lips wrapping around the intruding digit. Your tongue flicks and swirls around it in a practiced gesture. “Good girl.” Roman hums, a grin spreading across his face while thick shame blankets you. You frown at how familiar the taste of the glove is against your tongue. You push your thoughts away wishing your mind would fall away.

“Baby,” He draws his hand away from your lips, wiping the thin string of saliva on your face. His hands glide down the sides of your body. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize these hips?” His hands grab at your hips roughly, lifting you and pulling them flush against his own. “Baby. I know what’s mine and this time I won’t let you get away from me.” He whispers against your neck, voice husky and rough. You swallow feeling his lips brush against your pulse.

Roughly, he wedges a thigh between your legs, the friction against your core making you keen. The friction woke something in you and loosened a few other things. Your hips roll desperately against the thick muscle of his thighs. Roman grins against your neck, loosening his grip on your hips and letting you fuck yourself on his thigh. You will yourself to stop but the heat twisting in your gut is too much. You hate yourself. You well and truly hate yourself. Your cheeks warm, breath coming out in pants.

Roman places a kiss on your collarbone, teeth grazing your sensitive flesh. Your tongue is caught between your teeth to hold back a moan but the shiver spreading throughout your body says it too loudly. Roman chuckles, vibrations deep within his chest making you weak. Roman licks a stripe up your neck, planting kisses and hickeys along your jaw. “God, you taste sweet, princess.” He murmurs hot against your neck, the smirk dripping from his voice. It feels like acid against your skin.

He guides your pliant arms to loop around his shoulders. You obey soundlessly, tipping your head back giving him room to ravish your neck. He does with unbridled enthusiasm. You feel trapped in your own body. You don’t want this. You want to push him away but the fear coursing through you leaves you a passenger in your own body. Your breath hitches with each bite and kiss.

“Mine.” He rumbles resolutely, sliding the cloth of your top placing a bite on your shoulder. It stings without even looking, you know it’s deep.

“No” You whisper, low and unsure.

“No?” He challenges pulling away from your shoulder.

“No” You echo voice frustratingly unsteady. He sneers down at you, smile condescending. A biting rebellious part of you demands that you snarl and spit something brisque and witty at him but it’s pushed down by something viscous filling your chest. How are you drowning and why are you not dead yet?

Just let it pass, your mind whispers to itself. Just let him get his fill and he’ll be on his way. You don’t even have to get hurt. You sincerely want to believe this. You just want this to not happen. The thought of it summons a wave of nausea deep within you. Tears well up in the corner of your eyes. You blink rapidly chasing them away. He likes it when you cry.

“Baby, you can’t tell me you don’t want this,” He emphasizes, pressing his thigh against your sopping pussy. The pressure makes you whine. “Not when you’re being all cute and fucking yourself on my thigh like the dirty slut you are.”

No. No. No.

Rat-tat.

You will your hips to stop their movement but they’re too lost in their momentum. Your eyes flicker to Roman’s men, large eyes pleading. They stand stiffly doing their best to ignore you. They’re doing a damn fine job of it.

“Oh they won’t do anything, they’re here to watch,” Roman whispers hotly against your ear. Your eyes flicker to them again. Your breath catching when your eyes meet one of theirs, seeing not an ounce of pity. You shove the bile rising in your throat and the quirk on their lips deep somewhere else, somewhere away from you.

You try to squirm away but Roman’s arm presses into your windpipe pinning you in place. You thrash and kick and hiss but your head feels light. You hear fabric shift and you still. The sound of the zipper is too loud and too real.

Roman takes your lips in a forceful kiss making you gasp. His tongue forces its way into your mouth. He releases your neck. You feel his fingers trail up the slits of your skirt. You try to focus on them rather than what’s pressing stiffly against your inner thigh. The fabric of your skirt bunch up by your hips. You feel your panties getting pushed aside by large fingers. You whimper again, clawing at the expensive fabric of Roman’s suit. “Please don’t do this.” You plead breathily against his ear.

He laughs, voice gravelly and harsh. Without further warning or preparation or ceremony, Roman shoves himself inside your warmth, pushing you further into the door. You gasp, the burning stretch making your body tremble all over. He bottomed out with a loud groan. You wanted to cover your ears or have your mind fall out of your reach but here it was painfully present along with your frozen body. He’s loud, groaning and panting as he fucks into you. He thrusts into you with wild abandon, hips clashing against each other with bruising intensity. You can feel his cock dragging in and out of you, hitting every spot violently. He wants this to hurt. You hope it would too.

Your cheeks burn with how your walls spasm around his cock. You want to push him away, to take him out of you but it feels so good. You try to smother the lewd sounds you make into his shirt. Roman’s hands squeeze tightly around your waist in warning. “Yeah, that's it, baby. Let daddy know how much you want this.” You don’t protest. Instead, you let your mouth hang open and let the lewd mewls and keens tumble out. He drills into you more violently seemingly spurred on by your sounds.

You come with a whimper. You want to bury yourself in a hole. He comes not long after still fucking into you as he does, making sure your pussy takes all of his cum.

He pulls out of you, the slick sound of it absolutely sinful. Your body is slack against the door, too drained to hold itself up. Roman pulls back, grinning down at you and whistling appreciatively as he admires his work. “Let’s dress you back up, sweetheart.” Roman coos locking something around your neck. You don’t need to look down to know what he’s put there. The cool metal of the R.S. hanging off the collar presses stark against your hot sensitive skin.

“You look sooo much better like this,” Blearily you look past him. Your duffle bag is already in the arms of one of his men. He grabs your face roughly making you look him in the eyes. “All mine- just as you should be.”

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Thanks for reading! I swear I will do more fluff in the near future. I just needed this out of my system.

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-horizon11, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell

#yandere blackmask #yandere dc #yandere roman sionis #reader insert #dc reader insert #warning: smut #dc smut #black mask x reader #roman sionis x reader #yandere roman sionis x reader #my writing

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bidoldaccount · 3 years

Text

Erase All The Downsides - FOUR

Word count: 1,665

Tags: Anxiety; subspace; emotional hurt/comfort

Intro ; ONE ; TWO ; THREE

It ruins him.

Seeing her absolutely ruins him.

She lives behind his eyes. She takes up full residence in his dreams, unyielding on his brain. He finds himself driving by the shelter more times than he cares to admit, trying to catch a glimpse of her, if only for a second. It makes his skin itch when he doesn't. There's a pack of Peach gum sitting in his center console but he doesn't know which brand she gets, so they all smell slightly off. His brain hasn't been this mangled since those first few months.

When she told him that she couldn't handle being alone anymore, he didn't know what to do. He had been defensive where he should have been reassuring, he was cold where he should have been accepting, he was hurt where he should have been comforting. He was too stubborn to fight when she ended it. She was right. He knows that now. He left her messages unread for weeks before calling her when the need hit him. It wasn't fair, it was her holding their relationship together for those last few weeks.

When she was gone, the itch in his skin got so bad he was physically scratching at his arms. He couldn't leave the house without having a panic attack, he spent the entire next tour cooped up in his hotel room, trying to replicate the reassuring weight of her body with anything he could find. Most nights, Benny had to lay with him until he fell asleep otherwise he'd stay up all night scratching and crying. It was two weeks into his tour when he slept with someone else. He drank until he forgot why he was so sad, and when he woke up the world crashed down a little harder. He locked himself in the bathroom and sat in the shower for hours until the girl was gone and the hotel staff let Benny and Charlie into his room. After that, it felt impossible to call her.

Having her so far out of reach grates on his nerves for days. He refuses to touch Lisa and he snaps at everyone, it feels like backtracking.

He breaks when he shoves Sam. They were arguing over something or another, he can't even remember what. He was being combative because he could barely see in front of him with how blurry the anxiety was making his vision. Sam said something and Dean pushed him. He barely had time to register what he did before Benny was pulling him away.

"Dude, what the hell is going on?" Despite his language, his voice is soft and concerned. Dean shakes his head, his knees shaking. There was so much emotion crawling through his brain that he almost felt numb. Benny called his name over and over as he got into his car. He shouldn't be driving, he's too on edge, but it's all muscle memory at this point, and he can't stop once he has started.

It feels like a longshot, and if he is wrong he just might crack completely, but he pulls into the apartment complex with practiced ease. His feet carry him in a shuffle down the path, his fingers twitching on their own accord. He knocks on the door with rushed fervor, and nearly falls to his knees when it swings open and she's standing there, in front of him.

"Dean?" Castiel's voice is so soft and reassuring that it finally does send him to his knees. The contact with the ground hurts, but he barely feels it behind the relief that washes over him. This feels pathetic, utterly and truly pathetic, but he can't find it in himself to care because he feels lost and Cas is staring down at him.

"I'm sorry. I know it's been years and- and I don't even know if you're seeing someone, and I'm seeing someone, but I can't.... I can't... Please," he's crying and he can't stop.

"Come here, come inside," she lifts him from the ground and supports him as he stumbles forward.

"I'm having too much anxiety and I can't control it, I can't stop it!" He can't breathe.

"Alright, sweetheart, I hear you," she shushes him gently as she guides him over to the couch. "You sit and I'll be right back." He wants to whine and refuse, but most of all, he wants to be good. He sits down on her sofa, plush beneath him, and relaxed against it as best he can while she leaves the room. His stomach jumps like it wants to follow her, but he sits still. She is only gone for less than a minute before she is walking back into the room with a familiar looking weighted blanket. She set it on the couch, moved one of the pillows onto the floor, and gestured him down.

"On your knees, honey," Dean wants to roll his eyes back with a mix of pleasure and relief, but he settles for a tiny whimper as he slips down to the floor, settling his knees on the pillow. He looks up at her with wide eyes, waiting for her next instruction. She sits down in front of him, spreading her legs around him. The weighted blanket goes over his shoulders, draping down around him in a constant weight that works to ground him. Castiel sits back on the couch, her eyes trained on him.

"Lie down, honey," she pats her thigh and the strings are cut. He drops his head onto her thigh, his breath leaving him in one solid exhale. "You just sit there and breathe for me, okay? There is absolutely nothing else you need to do except sit here and be my good boy," her hands were in his hair, scratching gently at his scalp. A soft whine leaves him before he can stop it, he wiggles a bit to get comfortable, then his eyes close and it's easy to focus on her touch. The smell of citrus and firewood wraps around him almost as heavy and comforting as the blanket.

He doesn't remember falling asleep but when he opens his eyes, it's dark outside. Castiel is still sitting there, her hands still in his hair, her gaze focused on the tv. He shifts slowly, trying not to think about how numb his legs feel.

"You back with me?" She asks softly, all of her attention back on him. He blinks a few times, his head heavy. "Come up here, stretch your legs out," she scoots forward on the couch, moving the blanket off of him so it's easier to help him up. He wobbles a bit, unsteady, but her hands guide him down to the couch. She makes him bend his legs up and down, gently massaging them.

"Thank you," his voice is wrecked from sleep.

"Of course," she takes her hands off of him and he tries not to look too desperate when he reaches for her again. She takes his hand and allows him to link their fingers together as he slumps slightly, regaining his bearings.

"Cas," saying her name sends a warm thrill through his gut. "I'm really trying not to want you but It's getting really hard. I need you to tell me if you want me to leave or you don't want me too, because if you don't, I'll figure something out. I just can't keep pretending that I don't need you, that I don't miss you. I'll understand if it's been too long, or if you have someone else, I just have to try or I think I'll explode," he's rambling and he can't stop, the jitter is back in his bones.

"Dean, of course I want you. I've always wanted you, I just needed you to be as involved as I was. But, honey, it's you that has someone, not me," she said with a little, sympathetic, tilt of her head.

"I can't be with Lisa regardless of whether you take me back or not," he sighed, tilting his head down a bit. "she needs something that I can't give her and I need something she can't give me. It's too hard."

"I understand. I'll be here, Dean, whenever you're ready," she ran her thumb over the back of his hand and he fell boneless into the couch at her words.

"I'm so sorry, Cas, I shouldn't have neglected our relationship like I did. I was distracted and arrogant, and I stupidly thought that you'd always be there. You were always there for me and I was never there for you," he whispered, meeting her thumb with his own, gently pressing them together.

"That's not true, Dean," Cas said, sliding the smallest bit towards him on the couch. "You helped me through a lot of my depression, you were with me through all of my family drama, I wouldn't have made it out of that as unscathed without you there. It was just those last few months, when the paranoia of having a rockstar boyfriend doing God knows what, God knows where, with God knows who, started to creep up. I trusted you 100% but it's hard not to think about the possibilities," she said.

"I know, I want you to know that I never did anything with anyone while we were together. I wouldn't do that," Dean assured.

"I know," Cas nodded with a soft smile. "It was the perfect storm of distance, time, and arguments. I don't think either of us are to blame, but I still tear myself apart every once in a while for ending it so rash," she said.

"It's okay now," Dean whispered, looking down at their hands. "It'll be okay now." Cas leaned over their hands and pressed her forehead to his shoulder. She wouldn't do anything while Dean was still in a relationship, and he knew that. So, he settled for resting his temple on her head, closing his eyes as she breathed against his arm.

#Dean winchester #castiel #destiel #destiel fluff #dean x castiel #female castiel #sub space #sub dean #dom cas #angst #anxiety

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headfulloffantasies · 4 years

Text

Black and Blue and Red All Over

Bucky follows the kid around. It’s not stalking. It’s protecting.

Ao3

Bucky watched the kid. Spidey bounced around the city, swinging passed in his outlandish suit. On the ground, Spider-Man mania gripped New York. Everybody loved their webslinger, with a few key exceptions. A hero with that much attention needed watching. So Bucky watched. And he learned.

Spidey knew people’s names. He was seen. He interacted. Bucky watched as the kid waved to a bodega owner, swinging onto an electrical pole and stopping to chat. He knew these people.

Spider-man belonged to the people. Steve tried that, but the image of Captain America the War Hero loomed too strong to break through most people’s perceptions. Captain America existed as a character like Mickey Mouse. All folks wanted from him on the street was a photo.

The suit bugged Bucky. The skinny kid with his floppy limbs and elastic spine couldn’t hide with his fire engine red and TARDIS blue onesie. Captain Marvel might have a similar colour scheme, but no one knew of a being on the entire planet that could lay a hand on her. Her suit was a warning. Spidey’s was an invitation.

If he was smarter, Spidey would adopt Natasha and Bucky’s style: all black and kevlar. The kid didn’t have bullet proof abilities. Bucky had seen the panic through the mask from a sniper’s rooftop when a machine gun suddenly introduced itself to a simple mugging. A graze had Bucky up and ready to jump in, but the kid had it under control. He leaped over his opponent’s head, webbed the gun’s muzzle, and had both the thugs down and out before Bucky could make it to the stairs.

So, the kid was good. But that didn’t excuse his brazen mannerisms. He taunted his villains.

“Hey, Shocker, what’s wrong with your face? Did you run into a brick wall, or were you always that ugly?”

Ok, so the kid wasn’t Wordsworth when it came to insults. But Bucky saw the play. Spidey’s motor mouth kept his opponents distracted, or angry, or just plain baffled.

Why didn’t he keep his head down? Spidey called attention to himself. He didn’t hide. Bucky started to wonder if the kid liked the attention. Maybe he was a glory hound.

Bucky walked down the street when he noticed the kid starting off his day. Four o’clock, every afternoon like clockwork. Bucky glanced up at the building the kid had leaped from. A buzz of curiosity and mild paranoia tingled behind his eyes. Bucky checked no one was watching and made for the fire escape.

Wind buffeted the top of the building. New York spread out below and above, a full spectrum of humanity in the honking horns, shouts, and bass lines. Bucky checked out the rooftop. There wasn’t much to see, just a water tower and a roof access door. On the far side of the water tower Bucky found a backpack webbed to the structure.

He stood still while his options warred inside. His fingers itched to open the bag and find out exactly who lived under the Spider-Man mask. But the breach of trust was monumental. Heroes went to war for less. Iron Fist and Johnny Storm still weren’t talking.

In his deliberation Bucky didn’t hear the light footfalls behind him.

“Are you following me, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky aborted two very catastrophic reactions to the demon child sneaking up on him. First, he stopped the gut reaction to pull out a weapon and shoot. Second, he just barely kept himself from leaping out of his skin and falling off the edge of the building.

The white eyes of the kid’s suit blinked. Bucky stared him down.

“Are you following me?” The kid repeated.

“No,” Bucky weighed his options and decided lying was the better of two evils. Heroes were suspicious creatures by nature. And Bucky was a bastard by nature.

“It’s okay if you are,” Spidey parked his butt on the edge of the building with his feet dangling into nothing. “I just want to know why.”

“I’m not following you,” Bucky decided to die on this hill. It was a nice hill and he had died for less.

“Did Miss Romanoff ask you to look out for me? Because I told her I’m fine.”

“No,” Bucky said, squinting at the kid. “You talked to Nat?”

The kid nodded. “I found her cat in a tree. She threatened to break my knee caps.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. Natasha protected her cat more than her teammates. On a whim, he sat next to the kid, though he kept his feet solidly on the rooftop, thank you very much.

The kid watched him out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t care that you’re following me, Mr. Barnes. I kind of like having the back up. But if you want something from me, you should just ask.”

The flippancy with his own privacy set Bucky’s teeth on edge. People these days freely surrendered their information in the belief that it somehow made them safer. Hydra had been right about that much. For someone like Spidey, though, information was dangerous. Bucky’s skin crawled to think what Hydra could do with the little intel that Bucky had garnered in the last week.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Barnes?”

The kid was so polite, so adorable. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

Bucky hid the grin bubbling up. Trust Spidey to make a joke with the Winter Soldier.

“Why do you wear red and blue?”

“Why do you wear black?”

“Stealth,” Bucky answered with a smirk. “And habit.”

Spidey nodded. He kicked his feet, staring out at the New York skyline. “Why do you think I wear red and blue?”

Bucky shrugged, “Favourite colours?”

Bucky could see the frown through the mask. “I’m being serious.”

“Okay,” Bucky surrendered. He took a second to order his thoughts. “I used to think you did it to be seen. So everyone would look up and say “There goes Spider-Man”. Now I don’t know.”

Spidey nodded. “You’re half right. I picked bright colours to be seen. By the bad guys. I want all their focus on me, not their victims.”

Noble. Bucky didn’t expect anything less after (not) following him.

“And the mask?” Bucky prodded.

“It’s complicated. I have people I’ve got to protect. And I feel… safe in the mask. No one sees my face, no one sees how scared I am.”

Bucky nodded, turning to watch the city with Spidey. The pieces slotted into place. He didn’t have to ask about the jokes, or the webs, or the weird familiarity Spider-Man cultivated with his neighbors. It all boiled down to that: I want to help. I am afraid. Bucky got that.

“Do you ever get scared, Mr. Barnes?” “All the time,” Bucky admitted.

“What do you do when you’re scared?”

Bucky sighed. “I don’t know anymore. It used to be that whatever I faced, what I had to go back to if I failed was worse. Now,” he shrugged. “Now I can’t let go of what I’ve got. I fought tooth and nail to hold on to the people I have. And I’d rather die than give them up.”

“Me too,” Spidey said quietly. He reached up, and to Bucky’s amazement, Spidey pulled off his mask.

Bucky almost had a heart attack. The kid was puny. A literal, baby faced child. Brown curls and wide eyes, and a smile like a puppy dog. Oh god, protect him. Who let this infant out into the world to get beat up by bad guys every night?

“Hi, I’m Peter,” Spidey extended a hand.

Bucky carefully took Peter’s fingers in his. “Call me Bucky.”

“Are you going to stop following me now?”

“Not a chance.”

#bucky #james bucky barnes #peter parker #spiderman #marvel #fanfiction #mcu #winter soldier

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maxheadley · 6 years

Text

A Little Confession.

Timothy's Imaginations: Chapter 10

Tad bobbed his leg up and down unyieldingly. He sat in the waiting room of a lonely clinic, where the walls were painted an unsatisfying shade of orange and the chairs were damningly uncomfortable. The clinic needed some serious TLC. The cracks in the leather of the chairs bothered him more than the disgusting orange walls. He shifted his numb bum about twenty times to find a comfortable position, though the position eventually became apparent it wasn't comfortable at all. Only briefly. He listened to the tick tock of the large antique grandfather clock next to him to focus on anything else other than his increasing worry about his best friend and erratic typing of the desk nurse.

He'd most likely freak out if the clock hadn't been ticking in his ear. The one thing he liked, something consistent, something unchanging. A clock never changed from it's ticking pattern to irregularities. He sighed, glancing at the clock reading where the hand rested. He'd been stuck in the waiting for about an hour. How long did it take for a doctor to examine their patients? Surely not this long, Tad thought disdainfully.

Suddenly, the door that lead towards the rooms where patients were examined swung open revealing a young doctor dressed in some tan slacks, a ugly blue sweater, normal shoes, and a oversized lab coat. He carried a clipboard and his overly large round eyeglasses were slipping down to the bridge of his nose. Behind him, Winnie walked, rubbing her paling tan arm awkwardly. Her nerves were frayed. He suspected. "Thaddeus.." Winnie pushed past the unaware doctor and hugged him tightly. Something felt wrong, but he didn't ask. He would probably hear it from the Doctor.

He kissed her temple as the man approached. "I am unsure what Winnie's infected with but we've drawn blood and had her do a urine test and we'll receive the results a couple days. But in the meantime, I've prescribed her some antibiotics to flush out the cold and help stabilize her breathing." The Doctor said so quickly, Tad had troubling putting the words into sentences.

"Okay, thank you. Is that all?" Tad was itching to get out of there. His paranoia began to bother him and he had a feeling a panic attack was on the rise. Something about this place seemed off. Surreal. Unethical.

"No.." The Doctor shot him a startled expression. "There's one other thing.. I have to ask why does she have a small incision on her throat?"

Tad wrinkled his nose, remembering how Winnie described Harley's attack and how the wire scraped across her throat drawing a few beads of unnecessary bloodshed. "Alarming as this may sound, she scratches her neck when she's extremely nervous and sometimes uses sharp objects and it causes scrapes or small cuts. It's no big deal." He lied, not wanting to divulge the truth to a complete and under stranger.

The man raised his unattractive, bushy eyebrows almost to his brown hairline. "Probably would be wise if you um made sure she doesn't use any sharp objects to inherently self harm."

"Yeah, I'll do my best." Tad awkwardly muttered.

Winnie settled on the comfortable seat of Tad's truck. She buckled up as he jogged around the vehicle to get himself in. He seemed tense. Something was off. She suspected the problem was the awkward, sterile setting of the clinic. He had always avoided being around doctors or hospitals, and rarely did her ever step foot inside a place that reminded him of a hospital. She observed him buckling his seatbelt and insert the key in the ignition.

Finally, after several minutes of observing his fast movements and frantic biting of his lower lip, she placed a small, clammy hand on his thin thigh and squeezed to gather his attention. She knew her voice was hoarse and didn't want to startle him using her froggy voice.

He placed one of his hands over hers and sighed, leaning the back of head onto the glass, smushing the long uncut pale hair against his skull. He closed his dark green eyes briefly. "I have to tell you something." He hadn't ignited the engine though the keys remained in the ignition, so he turned his entire body to face hers and lifted one shaky hand to caress her pale, sickly cheek. "And it may be awkward for us afterward. But promise me we'll be friends still?" He squeezed his eyes closed as if expecting her to reject him or something.

Winnie would never.

"I promise. Now, what is it?" She asked, trying to clear the saliva that gathered at the back of her throat away. Her voice never sounded more terrible than right then.

He opened her eyes and leaned forward about as much as he could do the seatbelt, and smashed his lips straight into hers. To her surprise, she allowed him. She could feel something in her core blooming as he kissed her consistently for those brief few seconds. She frowned, when he stopped and leaned back slightly. "I am in love with you. Have been for the past couple of years but seeing you be abused and hurt by others has made me realized I needed to tell and show you that I'd do anything to make you feel loved the way you deserved." He said breathless.

Beads of sweat sparkled on his tan forehead. His eyes were alight with passion and a film of undisguised love. How could she extinguish such a beautiful thing like him? He was perfection disguised under glasses and a giant sweater with either his nose in a book or his eyes trained on a laptop screen. He was a fire shrouded by a cloak of shadows. He needed to shine. Who was she to let the flames burn out? She couldn't.

"And I wish for you to be mine. In the ways that count." Tad said, breaking Winnie out of her small reverie. The innocent, vulnerable expression on his damningly handsome face pleased with her.

She pressed her index finger against the swollen bottom lip of his. She met his eyes. She saw the possibilities swirling in them, the countless opportunities and adventures they could have, the ideas they could attempt to create, side by side, together.

She knew what she had to do.

"Are you sure it is me you want?"

"I am positive you are what I need and want."

"Okay." Winnie licked her bottom lip drawing his eyes to her lips. "I'll be yours."

With that she sealed their new relationship with a simple, sweet kiss. One, which, warmed the inner broken parts of her heart.

After picking up Winnie's prescribed medication, Tad drove them back to the cabin to ignite the plan they devised and decided on the drive back. Winnie had her fever-ridden forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window. Her bright blue eyes suddenly brighter than they had been in many days. She watched the trees race past, listening to the tires of Tad's truck crunch over the pebbles and dirt, and the roar of the engine.

She couldn't shake the fear gathering in her belly as they neared their destination. What if their plan went wrong? What if the others tried to poke holes in their plan and mess everything up? Or what if Harley and Timothy retaliated and someone got hurt? She couldn't bare seeing another person hurt. Everyone was hurt enough already.

"Tad.. Did you call Wren like I asked?" Winnie asked, lifting her head up and adjusting her sitting position.

"Yes. He's meeting us there. I gave him the directions and told him to lay low and not attract any attention. If he did, we're screwed." He squinted at the rain stained windshield, the glare of the sun obviously bothering him.

"Wren's pretty intelligent. He's cunning and manipulative, " She paused, having to cough. "And he's resourceful. He'd weave his way out of any situation." She added, after about a minute.

Tad parked in the driveway of the cabin and glanced at her. "God. I hope this works." He muttered, unbuckling his seat.

Winnie scooted across the worn seat and cupped his cheeks. She kissed his lips lightly. "I promise you it'll work." She gave him a small, confident smile.

Tad opened his door and helped her out, not responding other than a measly nod. She suspected her had doubts nothing would go right. She grabbed the bag of medicine from the seat and started for the cabin, when a loud strange whistle caught her attention. She depicted where the whistling came from and saw Wren perched in a tree several yards away looking weirdly like Tarzan except wearing regular clothes and his hair was not long.

She made a quick, subtle gesture to Tad and detoured into the woods. She stopped at the foot of the large oak tree Wren sat in. "What in the world are you doing up there?" She shouted, but quietly. If she attracted her mother's attention, it was all over. Everything would go downhill from there.

Wren hopped down from the sturdy branch and landed neatly on his feet. He brushed a couple discolored leaves off his head and adjusted the misplaced strands before answering. "I was scouting out the location, figuring out the best place to strike." He said, like he did not just impressively leap from a tree and not break a leg.

"And did you?" Tad popped up beside Winnie casting subtle glances over his shoulder. Probably hoping Terra wasn't staring out the window.

"There's a backdoor and a large window that is weirdly open I could sneak through as long as you two provide a good enough diversion to help me get through without being captured." Wren said, flatly.

Winnie sighed, running a shaky hand through her black curls. "I'm sure we're in enough trouble to distract the hell out of my Ma and Davie."

"I don't disagree." Muttered Tad.

"Okay. So what do you want me to do once I'm in?"

"Well.." Winnie began.

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headfulloffantasies · 4 years

Text

Black and Blue and Red All Over

Bucky is not stalking Spider-Man. He’s protecting. Not stalking.

Ao3

Spidey knew people’s names. He was seen. He interacted. Bucky watched as the kid waved to a bodega owner, swinging onto an electrical pole and stopping to chat. He knew these people.

So, the kid was good. But that didn’t excuse his brazen mannerisms. He taunted his villains.

“Hey, Shocker, what’s wrong with your face? Did you run into a brick wall, or were you always that ugly?”

Ok, so the kid wasn’t Wordsworth when it came to insults. But Bucky saw the play. Spidey’s motor mouth kept his opponents distracted, or angry, or just plain baffled.

Why didn’t he keep his head down? Spidey called attention to himself. He didn’t hide. Bucky started to wonder if the kid liked the attention. Maybe he was a glory hound.

In his deliberation Bucky didn’t hear the light footfalls behind him.

“Are you following me, Mr. Barnes?”

The white eyes of the kid’s suit blinked. Bucky stared him down.

“Are you following me?” The kid repeated.

“No,” Bucky weighed his options and decided lying was the better of two evils. Heroes were suspicious creatures by nature. And Bucky was a bastard by nature.

“It’s okay if you are,” Spidey parked his butt on the edge of the building with his feet dangling into nothing. “I just want to know why.”

“I’m not following you,” Bucky decided to die on this hill. It was a nice hill and he had died for less.

“Did Miss Romanoff ask you to look out for me? Because I told her I’m fine.”

“No,” Bucky said, squinting at the kid. “You talked to Nat?”

The kid nodded. “I found her cat in a tree. She threatened to break my knee caps.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. Natasha protected her cat more than her teammates. On a whim, he sat next to the kid, though he kept his feet solidly on the rooftop, thank you very much.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Barnes?”

The kid was so polite, so adorable. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

Bucky hid the grin bubbling up. Trust Spidey to make a joke with the Winter Soldier.

“Why do you wear red and blue?”

“Why do you wear black?”

“Stealth,” Bucky answered with a smirk. “And habit.”

Spidey nodded. He kicked his feet, staring out at the New York skyline. “Why do you think I wear red and blue?”

Bucky shrugged, “Favourite colours?”

Bucky could see the frown through the mask. “I’m being serious.”

“Okay,” Bucky surrendered. He took a second to order his thoughts. “I used to think you did it to be seen. So everyone would look up and say “There goes Spider-Man”. Now I don’t know.”

Spidey nodded. “You’re half right. I picked bright colours to be seen. By the bad guys. I want all their focus on me, not their victims.” Noble. Bucky didn’t expect anything less after (not) following him.

“And the mask?” Bucky prodded.

“It’s complicated. I have people I’ve got to protect. And I feel… safe in the mask. No one sees my face, no one sees how scared I am.”

“Do you ever get scared, Mr. Barnes?”

“All the time,” Bucky admitted.

“What do you do when you’re scared?”

“Me too,” Spidey said quietly. He reached up, and to Bucky’s amazement, Spidey pulled off his mask.

“Hi, I’m Peter,” Spidey extended a hand.

Bucky carefully took Peter’s fingers in his. “Call me Bucky.”

“Are you going to stop following me now?”

“Not a chance.”

#Bucky Barnes #spider-man #peter parker #winter soldier #marvel #fandom #fanfiction #fanfic

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