#francis finally got to front after forever and she had nobody to talk to in the entire time she was in front | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shini--chan · 4 years ago

Note

I have an idea! What would Allies do after finding out that their s/o have (another) stalker? It can be another yandere, a creep, ex, jealous coworker with bad intentions or even a serial killer.

And a good idea it is, my dear anon.

Yandere Allies – Feindling America

You were already fast asleep, snoozing away under the covers in your shared bedroom. He, on the other hand, was still wide awake and had decided to settle down in the living room to do some light reading. His insomnia was due to the usual reasons – too much caffeine, too much stress, too much curiosity to just let the day finish.

And because he was worried, intently, about you. There was somebody else trying to stick their grubby fingers in your shared life, and pry you apart. That was something he was absolutely sure off. After living so long, and becoming paranoid due to his position on the global stage, he knew very well when he was being watched.

There was something after you in particular, he didn’t like it.

Out of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of somebody moving in the bushes. A spike of adrenaline shot through his body, and for a moment he was tempted to storm about side and give that creep a hook. Yet a better idea came to mind – first to fire a warning shot.

He net his book aside and sauntered to one of the glass door to the balcony and gave the pane a few sharp knocks. It was enough to catch their attention. It was almost comical how the figure froze, and the hood swivelled in his direction. Alfred couldn’t identify them in any capacity – they wore non-script jeans and a grey hoodie along with a pair of gloves. But this was about digging up the war axe.

Grinning, he flipped the bird at them, and then proceeded to draw a thin line across his throat in an unmistakable message.

Alfred would see this as a chance to play hero. He would finally be able to prove to you how capable he is at protecting you, how attentive he would be when it would water down to your safety. Of course, he would make sure there would be a lot he wouldn’t catch wind off – it would be the instances where he would come off as an evil master mind or as a control freak that he would skilfully hide from you.

He might or might not elect to torture the fool that would be stalking you. For him, waterboarding that creep would be a method of stress relief. It would also drive home the point that nobody should dare try to get between him and his sweetie.

Canada

Besides you, your phone beeped for what must have been the twelfth time in the span of one minute. You sobbed harder and buried your face in his chest. Matthew calmly stroked your back, making quiet soothing noises as he held you close.

“(Ex) will have to leave you be someday. This can’t go on forever. One day that jerk will have to accept that you’re gone for good”, he told quietly, while cautiously shifting his position to a more comfortable one.

You were both on the backseat of his car, having sought sanctuary there after you started panicking upon seeing the messages. All the memories had started to overwhelm you, and you had gripped his arm as if it was the only thing that was preventing you from drowning.

“No, that won’t be the case. Before I met you, I tried to leave so often only to be lured back into it. It was only because I met you that I haven’t gone back”, you cried, gazing up at him with a tear-stricken face.

“Shh, I will think of something. There shall be hell to pay.”

Matthew would be concerned about your wellbeing first and foremost. He would cater to you, cuddle with you, sooth you. But don’t think that would mean he would go easy on you should you step out of line and try to flee from him. When he would say he would never let your ex take you back, he would be indirectly saying he would never allow you to leave him.

Naturally, he would be careful and avoid any explicit rhetoric stating that your place in the world is at his side, but the message would be there, hidden between the lines.

With the legal sway he would hold, he would easily have your ex punished in some capacity. This could range from a fine to a restrain order to spending some time in jail.

China

A scream pierced the silence of the night, followed by a yell as the attacker was swept off his feet. Yao didn’t hesitate to continue beating the culprit up, even though he was on the ground.

After all, this was a man that had just been a few milliseconds away from dragging you away and murdering you, after doing unspeakable things to you, things that couldn’t be lightly talked about in any context.

“So, you’re the vermin that has been butchering people left and right for the past four months. You’re just as disgusting as I expected”, Yao commented as he brought his foot down on his back in a harsh stamp.

You had taken seat on a tree stump that was standing by. The near death experience and the fight going on in front of you had utterly rattled you. You were numbly staring at the scene playing out, heads in your hands, whole body trembling and eyes wide blown.

He kicked the killer in the side and was rewarded was a grunt and a hiss: “And I’ll fucking kill you too.”

“Sure you will”, Yao drawled sarcastically and pressed the criminals head into the dirt. “Get used to the taste of it.”

Contrary to expectations, Yao would approach the situation of serial killer being after you calmy. Not because he wouldn’t care about you, but rather because he would be far to old to be surprised by such a – in his eyes – trivial thing. And because he would know that letting himself drown in anger or panic would just result in him making grave mistakes – ie. losing you.

Nevertheless, he would never be far off, lurking behind corners, just out of sight of you and the murderer. He would also scoure your online activity, searching for any suspicious doings from other users. Furthermore he would use the opportunity to learn more about you and your strengths and weaknesses.

England

“Ah, ah, ah. Keep your dirty paws off that”, Arthur chided Jane and firmly grabbed Jane by the ear, harshly tugging there. It wasn’t the most humane treatment of a mortal, that England knew very well. However, he was in a sour mood, your infuriating co-worker being one of the contributing factors to it. Besides, he hadn’t made it one of his life maximas to be nice.

“You dare”, she hissed. When he gave another sharp tug, she yelped and dropped your phone, showing one of your social media profiles. Jane Smithers was persistent, he would have to give her that. Yet that would just be her downfall because she had decided to use that trait to try to ruin your life.

“Oh yes I dare. I dare to not tolerate your disgusting behaviour. Between you and me, we’re going to have a very long talk about your morals.”

She snorted and grabbed his hand.

“I could sue you for sexual harassment. We’ll see if you’ll still be laughing then.”

Oh, he had expected such a threat to come from such a vile person as her. He chuckled lowly – did she really think she could best him when it came to anything.

“And then spend some time in the nick for lying to judge and jury. Don’t think you’d be able to weasel your way out of this. I’m the one here that can have your framed and believe me, I could get you a bloody life sentence.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending, before realisation dawned and she let out a harsh laugh.

“So that is how (l/n) did it. Slept the way to the top.”

“No. (Y/n) has talent, impeccable talent. So unlike you, my dearest never had to resort to the methods you were so kind to mentioned.”

Arthur would see it as his duty to protect you – your physical & mental wellbeing as well as your reputation. So of course he would go after any jealous co-worker that would try to ruin you to any extent. And as mentioned in the snippet above, he wouldn’t be exactly nice about it. Any means would do for him, as long as the risk of his machinations backfiring on him and you would be relatively low.

During the whole process, he would letting you know about everything. It would be his point of proving that the world is a horrible place and that you can only find solace in his company and attention.

France

Francis was in the kitchen when you came stumbling in, frazzled and panting as If you had just run a marathon. By the way your extremities were trembling and sweat dotted your forehead, he wouldn’t be surprised. The only question was why.

Aside from that, fear danced in your eyes, and that was the only further information he needed to know that something was wrong. Rushing forward, he scooped you in his arms, ignoring the coffee that he had been preparing, and asked you:

“What happened, ma cherie?”

Instead of answering, you leaned your head against his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his torso, taking heavy, laboured breaths, as if you were crying. That was when he realised that you were. It worried him.

Was this something that he had done? What had caused you to become so distressed? Was it something he could fix.

“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to”, he offered shakily, unsure about what he should do to cheer you up. How could he, when he didn’t know why you were in such a state?

Thankfully, you supplied him with an explanation, one that caused his concern to freeze to ice cold anger: “There is some creep following me. He grabbed my butt when I got off the bus.”

Whoever that devil was, he was going to have hell to pay,

Francis would be enraged that somebody would be so disrespectful of your boundaries and of the fact that you’re already taken. In the brief moments of his more intense bouts of fury, he might do something as rash as to track the creep down and bludgeon him with something, probably a newspaper.

However, his preferred method would be character assassination (this would work especially well if the culprit in question would have a high social status) and verbal abuse. In this case, his revenge could be long-winded and very elaborate.

Russia

The temperature of the corridor had dropped since the last time he had visited – a testimony to the bad insulation and the approaching winter. Ivan thought it did her justice. After all, she did deserve this after nearly kidnapping you.

Speaking of her, she was sitting near the bars when he approached and when she glimpsed him, she quickly scooted away. Clever; she had learned from what had occurred the last time.

“Come to taunt me again?”, she seethed, curling into a tight, haggard ball of fury. Understandable in her case, however he wouldn’t shed any tears or have any sleepless nights.

“As is customary. I have to elevate your boredom somehow”, he confirmed, grabbing a chair and seating himself opposite her.

She stared at the door at the end of the passage, hungerly tracing it and searching the shadows for any sign of you. Ivan derived pleasure from mocking her: “How foolish are to think I would have brought my lover with me? I didn’t the last few times so why should it any different now?”

“You’re so very attached to (y/n), so I had my hopes.”

“Then I’ll have to forever dash them. That I owe you.”

She snarled at this; face twisted to a nasty frown.

“You know, you and I aren’t so different. So it is even more hypocritical of you to claim the moral high ground. Does (y/n) know even half of the things you’ve done in the name of your love?”

“I detest the comparison. I walk free while you rot in solitude, unloved and unwanted. While you have done everything wrong, I have done what was right where it counted most. You go very far by suggesting anything else.”

Russia would be the one to act the most intense of all the allies. He would have had people that were dear to him ripped away from him in the past, so he invest a lot of energy in insuring that wouldn’t happen to you and him.

That would mean he would go up to 11 in this case. As in, he would either kill this person and dissolve their body in acid or feed it to the pigs. Or he would leave this other yandere to rot somewhere after having dragged them before court for a very showy trail to break their spirit.

#yandere hetalia #yandere allies #yandere america #yandere england #yandere russia #yandere canada #yandere china #yandere france

171 notes · View notes

star-spangledstud · 4 years ago

Text

SAVE THE DAY

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Peter wants to quit being Spider-Man, but the reader needs saving.

Word Count: 3600-ish.

Warnings: mentions of violence/alcoholism and abuse/hostage situation. Angst with fluffy ending.

A/N: Let’s just pretend Peter didn’t turn into dust during IW. Also, this has a dark theme? I wrote this a while ago and figured I’d post it. It’s pretty bad, sorry.

Peter Parker is sick and tired of being Spider-Man.

Between hardly getting any sleep and his grades faltering miserably because of his nightly escapades, the fact that half of his friends died just three weeks ago doesn’t exactly help his case. He’s tired of putting on the suit, tired of scouring the streets in the dark of night, tired of waiting for crimes to happen when he really should be studying.

Peter lost some of the people he looked up to the most, and ever since he returned home, he hasn’t been able to stop feeling horrendously guilty over the fact that he wasn’t able to save them. He misses his friends, but mostly, he misses his coworkers, half of whom had disappeared into dust. What’s the point of being Spider-Man when you can’t even save the ones you hold dear to your heart?

Peter is seated behind his desk, black ink pen tightly gripped between his clammy fingers. His left palm is stuck under his chin, and his eyes, droopy and fluttery, shift between the clock hanging above the door towards the back of the classroom. His hazel orbs scan everything from the green linoleum floors to the yellow-stained ceiling with its flickering lights. Empty seats line the back walls, desks and chairs stacked on top of each other in a sick manner.

Desks that were once filled with students now sat empty to collect dust and termites. Most of the kids that vanished didn’t even know who Thanos was or what his intentions were. It isn’t fair, Peter thinks as he grips his pen and clenches his jaw. They didn’t deserve to die.

Several of Peter’s classes have been postponed until further notice due to the sudden lack of staff and student body. Of course, Mr. Brown hadn’t vanished, and so, Peter is sitting in his Tuesday morning math class with barely over a dozen other kids. Each one of them looks just as sad, confused and most of all defeated as Peter does, because most of them have lost multiple family members and friends in the blink of an eye without any hope of bringing them back.

James from physics has lost both his parents. Samantha from biology lost only one, but her grandparents as well. Francis from literature didn’t have parents even before the Snap, but lived with her aunt and uncle who both disappeared. The gist of it is clear; grief, hurt and anger surrounds the school like a thick, impenetrable blanket of fire from which nobody can escape and for a moment, Peter doesn’t know on which side of the Snap he’d rather be.

The seconds on the clock tick by agonizingly slowly. Mr. Brown knows nobody in his class gives a shit about potentially solving mathematical problems anymore, but life must go at the end of the day and until anyone has any better ideas, the only thing the school board knows to do is to keep teaching classes to whoever decides to show up. To be fair, even though it’s nothing like how it used to be, school remains the only constant in most of these kids’ lives.

Doubt continues to plague Peter’s cloudy mind as the day progresses. He’s already stuffed his suit in Ned’s locker - he wouldn’t be needing the space anymore anyway. The mere thought of his best friend vanishing into thin air made his fist curl and his eyebrows twitch in anger and every waking moment of his existence he hates himself for not being able to help him make it through the Snap. Then again, maybe it was for the best.

Being alive suddenly didn’t seem like such a great thing anymore with the world in complete shambles.

After class is over, most of the students slowly drag their feet towards the library or the cafeteria. With so many postponed classes, study hours are given left and right until the board has time to conjure a new schedule. Peter slings his backpack over his shoulder and, while dragging his feet to the library, absentmindedly reaches his phone from his back pocket. The latest iPhone he was given by Tony now feels alien in his hand, especially since half of his contacts don’t exist anymore. The Snap chat streak he used to have with Ned died weeks ago, and the last message Peter sent him still sits in Ned’s inbox marked as ‘unread’. Peter grips the device and bites his lip. He has to stop himself from throwing it out of the window all together. Looking at it has become unbearable.

Just as he’s about to shove it back deep inside his pocket, it vibrates. He thinks it’s just his imagination at first, but when his hand shakes for the second time, he lifts up the phone with the thumping of his heart.

It’s you, your name displayed as the caller ID across the screen, followed by blue and red heart emojis. You picked those out yourself.

“What’s up?” he asks after picking up, “where are you? You have no idea how boring math is without you.”

When the line momentarily remains silent on your end, Peter shrugs. You’ve pocket-dialed him before so it doesn’t immediately strike him as odd, and when he calls your name and doesn’t receive a response, he hangs up, finally able to place the phone in his pocket where he hopes it will remain forever.

But it doesn’t remain there forever, because less than a minute later, it rings again, once more flashing your name across the screen for his eyes to see. His groans, but picks up anyway as he stands in front of the library entrance.

“Y/N?” He asks, holding the device tightly to his ear just in case he can hear you in the distance.

“No,” you whisper finally, “he’s going to kill a bunch of people, P.”

Peter’s blood runs cold when the call is ended once again. He wastes no time sprinting towards Ned’s old locker and holds his breath when he dashes through the empty hallways. Before he gets there, he calls you back. You don’t answer.

Peter sneaks the costume into his backpack and changes into it in the empty bathroom near the physics lab. He stuffs his backpack inside the air vent and dials your number again. With his phone stuck tightly against his ear, he jumps out of the window.

You are one of the only people Peter still has left and vice versa. The two of you have been friends for ages, sharing nearly every class and you, him and Ned always sit together for lunch. The three of you would hang out together after school as well; you saw movies together and played video games on the weekends. You texted each other constantly.

The Snap wiped out nearly your entire family. Your mother, little brother and both of your grandparents and your aunt and uncle on both sides. You were left with nobody but your step-father.

Peter knows the two of you don’t get along. The man drinks too much, stays out too late even during the week and sometimes, he doesn’t even come home for days. Your mother always welcomed him back with open arms and chose to ignore the empty bottles of vodka and whiskey in the trash. She ignored the perfume on his clothes and his behavior towards you and stayed with him, a man so unstable he couldn’t hold jobs longer than a few months at a time. Her blindness to his shenanigans always angered Peter, because the relationship between your mother and step-father affected you in more ways than you cared to admit.

He knows you wish it was him who died instead of your mom and frankly, Peter wishes the same. He never liked the guy.

Peter is extremely worried about you, because he knows the drinking has doubled since your mom died. You’ve been skipping school to take care of the household and you know very well how Peter feels about your step-father’s lack of participation in and around the home. He started taking you away from your house whenever he could find the time and you’d even met Tony Stark the first time Peter took you to the tower. It surprised Peter to see how well the two of you got along, but then again, computer science is your favorite subject in school so it’s something the two of you could bond over. Well, it used to be anyway, because the class got dropped after the teacher and eight of his students got lost in the Snap.

Peter’s heart rams against his rib cage when you finally answer the phone. In the background, he can hear people screaming and shouting.

“Y/N? Where the hell are you?” He asks, using his webs to sling himself from building to building to avoid being seen in broad daylight.

“Central bank,” you whisper under shaky breaths, “gun. Can’t talk.”

The line goes dead once again, and Peter immediately changes direction.

You knew something was wrong when Hank offered to drive you to school this morning, because he’d never volunteered to take you anywhere before and you doubted he would start now. The red rims around his dull, yellow eyes made you decline his proposal at first but he insisted, and in fear of getting hurt by a man nearly twice your size, you finally agreed to have him drive you to school. You weren’t in any kind of mood to argue with him, and you sure as hell didn’t want to provoke him. Besides, the drive would only take ten minutes, while walking took you nearly half an hour, so you couldn’t exactly complain.

It saddened you to see him like this. The two of you never really got along, but at least a small part of you hoped that the shared loss of your mom and little brother would bring you some type of twisted companionship, something dark to bond over. You wanted to ask him if Peter could stay over for dinner, but the dark sweat stains on his creme t-shirt and his iron grip on the wheel made you stay quiet.

Hank never liked talking when he had a hangover. Talking too much always made him angry, and you don’t like seeing him pissed off. Granted, the only times he’d physically hurt you were when he was so drunk he couldn’t even tell you his own name, but you still fear him even now, afraid that one day he might actually do something he can never take back. With this knowledge, you typically stick to avoiding him on mornings after he’s had too much to drink. Nowadays though, it’s all he does.

Even when he deviates from the usual route to your school, you bite your tongue in fear of pissing him off. Perhaps, you think, he’s forgotten the location of your school or maybe he’s too hungover to think straight and the entire time, you expect him to turn around. He doesn’t, but wen he finally does stop, he does so in front of Central Bank.

You finally dare to speak up, asking him quietly what the two of you are doing there and fully expect him to sneer at you, to spit out that he’s only going to withdrawal money from your mother’s account again so he can support his bad habits, but instead of answering, he leaves you in the car and reaches for the trunk.

“What are you doing?!” You ask fearfully when he rips open your door and grabs a fistful of your hair.

“Shut up and don’t make a sound, got it?”

He pulls your head towards the ground when he walks, so the only thing you can see is the beat up sneakers on his feet and the terrifying barrel of a semi-automatic weapon. There’s no security guard near the entrance, but you don’t have enough time to wonder where he might be, because Hank’s already crossed the threshold and he’s shouting like mad when you realize what the hell is going on.

"Everybody sit the fuck down on the ground or I'll kill every last of one you!"

Screams erupt from every corner, and as Hank angrily waves the gun around in an attempt to scare the customers and bank personnel, people left and right begin to duck behind chairs, desks and in booths. You can hear a baby crying somewhere nearby, and your palms are sweating and shaky when you curl them into fists. You’ve always known he’s crazy, but even for him, this is fucking insane.

"Hank, what the fuck are you doing?" You scream, feeling the pressure of his grip on your neck sting like a hot iron.

"Shut up, before I shut you up myself. Don't make a god damn sound, you hear me? That goes for all of you!"

The next hour is a complete blur. Shots are fired into cream-colored walls, demands are made on stolen cellphones and most of all, you and everybody else inside is scared shitless. Hank forces you to sit in of the empty chair behind counter three, the one where people come to apply for loans. He continues to keep the gun pointed mostly at you - the hostage he uses to negotiate his demands. You called Peter when his back was turned to you, but couldn’t speak at first out of pure terror of being seen or heard.

Outside, flashing red and blue lights draw near, and the sound of multiple helicopters rounding the perimeter nearly drowns out the sound of Hank’s screeching voice when one of the clerks makes an unexpected move. You’ve never seen him this angry and doubt you’ll ever see it again. Practically all bank transfers are conducted digitally nowadays, most banks using shares on the stock market to finance their customer’s savings accounts. Sure, there’s physical money inside, but none of the desk clerks have access to the vault where they keep the big bucks. How Hank didn’t realize this is a mystery to you.

You’re starting to realize time is running out when SWAT arrives with a hostage negotiator. Peter can feel his heart nearly exploding inside his chest when he thinks of you as he slings his way across the city. He’s never run faster across rooftops, but he doesn’t take a moment to breathe until he makes it there.

It doesn’t take him very long to sneak inside through one of the top floor’s open windows. Peter ignores the news camera’ that zoom in on him while he climbs inside, swallowing thickly at the knowledge that Tony’ll probably be pissed off later.

He jumps down the staircase, swinging from left to right and balancing on the barricades until he reaches the first floor of the old building. Directly beneath him, he can hear the commotion and when he finally finds an air vent in one of the break rooms, he uses his webs to fling himself up and inside. His phone vibrates again when he’s slowly crawling his way through the dusty vents, but he doesn’t answer, because he can see you sitting in your chair shaking like a leaf when he finally reaches one of the vents that lead to the main entrance.

He notices your step-father walking anxiously in circles, his eyes wildly darting across the entire ground floor to make sure nobody tried to take him down. He needs money now that his source of income has died and the amount of debt he finds himself in leads him to believe this is the only way to do it.

Peter quickly and quietly unscrews the roster that allows fresh air to distribute throughout the ground floor and silently moves it to the side.

Look up.

He quickly texts you, but doesn’t realize your phone might make a sound until he’s already pressed send. He releases a deep breath when you check the message, and begin to search around the ceiling with a worried frown on your face until your finally eyes land on him halfway hidden in the darkness.

You sigh inaudibly but tremble when the gun goes off three times and Hank begins to shout at a mother and her crying baby.

“I'm going to get you out," Peter mouths at you after pushing up his mask you you can see his lips.

He has to get the gun away from Hank, who is now pacing back and forth on the other side of the wall. With one swift motion, Peter drops down from the vent with his finger pushed against his mask to let the people know to keep quiet. He slides behind your chair and gives your hand a tight squeeze before disappearing just in time to see the barrel of the gun followed by Hank.

Sweat drips down the man’s face and back, veins popping angrily in his neck protruding from his temples. Outside, the hostage negotiator uses a megaphone to shout at him, but it’s as if nobody is paying attention to what he’s saying. You only have eyes for Peter, who’s crouched under one of the desks, his arms stretched out in front of him so he can get a good angle on Hank.

Before you get a chance to do as much as blink, silvery webs shoot out from Peter's wrists. They latch onto the cold metal of the firearm and begin to quickly retreat, pulling the weapon out of Hank's sweaty palms. He accidentally pulls the trigger when he struggles to hold on to the only thing that’s currently keeping him alive, firing four shots into the wall before the gun clashes to the ground and drags away from him.

His eyes bulge out of his head when he sees Spider Man, now standing on top of the desk. Peter yanks his arms back, flinging the weapon towards the security guard, who was sitting near the water cooler next to the staff room. The man doesn’t hesitate to pick it up and disarm it, emptying the magazine onto the ground until every last bullet falls to the ground with a clang. They bounce across the floor and roll under desks and at people's feet, away from the man who threatened to kill with them.

Within minutes, the entire place is surrounded by SWAT and cops, their guns aimed at the man who was willing to kill innocent people for his own benefit.

You can hardly get up from your chair when you feel something warm and smooth pressed up against your body. You instantly feel your knees buckling under you, but Peter uses his strength to keep you from falling. Reporters outside try their hardest to catch a glimpse of what’s going on inside the bank, but police officers hold them back as best they can, cutting off their view with all their might while the two of you hug.

Your entire body trembles and your heart feels like it was going to explode as you shivered in Peter's arms, holding onto the boy for what felt like dear life.

"Shh," he whispers in your ear, "It's okay. I got you."

You try to speak, to thank him for coming as quickly as he did, but nothing comes out except throaty stutters and shaky breaths. You’re hurting, even a blind man can see it.

“You came,” you manage, “he just lost it.”

“Of course I did silly,” he replies, “I couldn’t let you get hurt, could I?”

People all around you gasp audibly when Peter pulls off his mask, synapses doing jumping jacks when you come face to face with him in public. He’s never taken off the mask in front of people before, especially not in front of reporters, and out of all of the Avengers, his identity is the only one that up until now remained a secret. Peter isn’t thinking about what Tony might say or what Steve might think. He’s not concerned with the gaping expressions of journalists and cops alike, or with the newspapers that will have his face plastered on the front page tomorrow. He doesn’t care because grown attached to you.

The feeling had crept up on him slowly, and he hadn’t realized it until now, when the possibility of losing you for the second time in such a short amount of time finally managed to get it through his head.

“What are you doing?” You ask, eyes wide and pupils blown out.

“I want you to see me,” he says, “not the mask.”

“But-” you stammer, “your identity. They’ll know. Everyone will know.”

“I don’t care anymore,” Peter uses his thumb to caress your cheek, “let ‘em know that spider man’s just a kid from Queens. I’m sick of hiding.”

The small smile that plays on your rosy lips makes his heart skip a beat. He’s in love with you, has been for a while now, and Peter’s pretty sure the adrenaline surging in his veins is the reason for the sudden realization. He opens his mouth to speak and the words dangle on the tip of his tongue, but he remains silent when a police officer drapes a blanket over your shoulders and asks you if you require medical attention.

He’ll tell you, he reckons. When the time is right.

172 notes · View notes

devildomdrabbles · 4 years ago

Text

[fic] Where you don’t see

tw; suicide

Word Count: 1681

Summary: The humans were forced to return from the Devildom, but when they can’t go back, what can Sen do?

Companion fic to this.

“On sunny days I go out walking / I end up on a tree-lined street / I look up at the gaps of sunlight / I miss you more than anything” - “Francis Forever” by Mitski

It had been three years since Yen and Sen had moved in together following their return from the Devildom. Yen was in bed for half of that time, blanket flung around her as she recuperated from all she had experienced in the final few days leading up to their departure. Sen tried her best to comfort the girl as she woke up screaming in the night, clinging to Sen and the blankets in a nervous frenzy.

“When?” Yen asked one night as Sen hugged her to calm her down.

“Soon, I hope,” was all Sen could reply with. She brushed the girl’s messy hair, and held it up in the moonlight. “Do you want to get a haircut soon? I think we both could use it.”

Yen hugged Sen more tightly, burying her face into Sen’s shoulder. “Okay.”

Sen tried to smile, but couldn’t, so she just nodded so Yen could understand that the girl heard her.

When the day Jin Le and Elizabeth arrived at Sen’s house, neither she nor the rest of the former human exchange students could predict would happen next. The words that came out of Elizabeth’s mouth had stunned them all into silence.

“…Are you…are you serious?” Reese had asked, dropping onto the couch heavily. He could only stare at Elizabeth crying over the sack of marbles she had pulled from Usako’s bag.

“Y-Yeah…you’re kidding, right?” Horizon said. Her hands had curled up into fists, and her shoulders were shaking.

“You’re lying!” Lia yelled, the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Her hands went up to her head as she bent forward, shutting her eyes tightly. “This is all a joke…seriously…I hate this joke…”

Usako held the pillow Belphie had given her tightly. She looked at its spotted pattern and ran her fingers over the softness of it. Then this meant…she would never see him again? Her eyes stung. She hated this. She hated all of this. She lifted her head up and tried to smile to hide the tears, but then she let out an exhale and went to flop down next to Reese. She buried her face into the pillow. She wasn’t crying if nobody could see tears coming out.

Bern burst into tears, her hands shaking as she held her phone. Was this why her D.D.D. never rang with Levi’s messages for raids? Was this why she hadn’t heard from him in over three years? She let out loud sobs and fell to her knees.

Sen could only stand in stunned silence, saying nothing. There was a loud shatter, and Sen turned around, seeing Yen in the doorway of the kitchen. Her glass of tea had fallen from her hands. Her eyes were wide in grief and anguish. In the next moment she fell.

The next few days passed in a blur for Sen. They had gotten Yen into her bedroom and laid her down, checking to make sure she was okay. The rest talked in the living room, crying and screaming. Sen tried her hardest to talk it through with everybody, to console them, and to hug it out with them. One by one, everybody left to return home, feeling empty. Sen tried her best to make sure they would be okay.

Several weeks passed. Yen had returned to holing herself in her room and laying on her bed, nearly catatonic with the news. Sen tried to talk to her and get her to eat, but Yen barely got out of bed. She barely responded. Sometimes when she did she snapped at Sen, but quickly apologized. Sen nodded, and stroked her back to calm her down. If the people around Sen looked closely at her, they could see the bags forming under her eyes that she tried to hide with makeup, and the red eyes and drooping shoulders she had as she had sat in her room at nights alone, crying to no one but herself.

One day, Sen’s phone pinged with a message from Yen. It was a long message, but it immediately made Sen’s neck prickle with fear.

“Sen, thank you for everything. I’m sorry for getting mad at you when you tried to help me, but I know you were trying to help. You are a good person, and I hope you’ll be okay. I’m sorry, but I tried. It hurts too much, though. I’m really sorry. Please take care.”

Sen messaged back frantically.

“Yen? Yen?? Where are you? Are you okay? Don’t do anything, Yen, okay? Let’s get bubble tea and talk”

She never got a message back.

The news came that night that Yen had been found at the foot of a building.

Sen buried her at the end of the week, with the rest of the human exchange students in attendance. Yen’s parents weren’t there as Sen knew she wouldn’t have wanted them to be.

One night as Sen sat on her bed, tired eyes staring at the wall, she leaned to the side grabbing the letter Barbatos had given them. She looked everywhere on the letter for a sign that, maybe, they could open it and return to the Devildom. She went through the daylight hours hoping that one of the other students would message their group chat, saying “We can open it!” She hoped, and she hoped every day until the hope became like breathing, and she stopped noticing it.

Sen held up the letter Yen was given. Yen had torn it on the last night, desperation evident in the shredded edges. The letter was damaged beyond repair, and Sen could barely make out Diavolo’s scribbled signature, faded now.

She opened her messages to Beel on her D.D.D. She began to write out a message, the first since everybody had gotten news that Julia had sealed the Devildom off. “Hey, Beel, I…” she started to write, before she stopped. She scrolled up past three years’ worth of messages.

“Hey, Beel! Are you well? I hope this is reaching you. I can’t really tell, to be honest, but I hope so. Did you finish the cookies I made?”

“I had a rough day today. I hope you’re doing better. I really miss you. I wish you were here…”

“Happy birthday, Beel! I hope you and Belphie had a good birthday today!”

Her eyes started to water. Beel would never get these messages. She hoped, she had hoped, she continued to hope, but what can she do now? She could never hear him again or see him again.

The next few years Sen could barely remember. Sometimes, in the kitchen, she’d be cooking and hear Yen’s voice. She’d turn, excited to see Yen’s bright smiling face, but would be greeted by the white walls of her kitchen and silence. Other times she’d read and smell a familiar scent of cinnamon, and would turn expecting to see bright purple eyes watching her, but she’d see nothing.

The other humans were going off and doing their own things, and they all kept in touch. Every year for Yen’s birthday they would hold a toast for her and drink and laugh and catch up. Sen herself finally got her work published to critical acclaim, and she laughed during an interview on how most of it was a culmination of her self-guilt and trauma (because it was most certainly true).

At the hair salon a few weeks after her publication, Sen sat down quietly and allowed the hairdresser to cut her hair. When she looked up at the mirror again, her long hair was gone, now shortened to her neck. She ran her fingers through her hair, having had it this short since she was a child. When she walked out she took a picture and sent it to the group chat, and everybody exploded with praises and comments.

Usako: “I love your new look! (っ˘ω˘ς )”

Reese: “Short hair looks great on you!”

Lia and Hori threw various heart and joy emojis at her.

Bern was busy taking college exams but Sen would get a call from her later that night with Bern and her chatting excitedly on the joys of short hair.

Sen moved to send a picture to Beel, but remembered that he would never get her messages. She put the D.D.D. back in her bag.

On her way back home she bought a cheeseburger and sat in on a bench and ate it silently. The sun was going down, and the sky was lit a fiery red. It reminded her of his hair. She thought about the USB she gave him, and she hoped that he and the brothers would smile at all the pictures she took back then. She had taken a lot. She took better pictures now, but she really liked the ones she had taken of them back then. She had given all the humans copies of the same photos she gave to the brothers on the USB stick years ago, and sometimes Reese would message the group chat with a “Hey guys, you remember this? LOOK AT LUCIFER!”

As she took another bite of her cheeseburger she started to cry a bit. She wiped the tears, and bit down on the cheeseburger again with more determination. When she looked back up at the lake in front of her, she thought she saw the familiar red of his hair. She blinked and it was gone.

She finished the cheeseburger and stood up, tossing the trash and placing her hands in her jacket. It was similar to the one Beel had; she had tried to find one that reminded her of him.

Another few years passed, and one day on the train someone sat next to her. “Hey,” he said, his voice sounding roughly familiar. “Mind if I sit here?” he asked, smiling. Sen looked up quickly, expecting to see Beel.

She saw someone else instead. But he smelled similar. Her heart ached. Nothing would dull the lament. But Sen walked forward. She had to keep going forward and move on.

“I don’t mind,” she responded with a friendly, albeit slightly sad smile.

#sen #beelzebub #angst #a lot of angst here #longform #obey me

14 notes · View notes

francisrosenfeld · 6 years ago

Link

“Sister Novis,” Lelia whispered, so softly that Novis, who had just returned from a rock climbing expedition and was struggling to put away her gear on a high shelf, almost didn’t hear her.

“Oh, sweetie, I didn’t expect to see you here, I thought your mother kept you busy with the preparations for the ceremony, your input is very important, you know!” the sister said, cheerfully.

“Not as much as you think. Bonding ceremonies are very prescriptive, other than the actual clouds involved, there isn’t much that can be changed,” Lelia replied.

“How can I help you, dear?” sister Novis asked, a little puzzled that Lelia had sought her out, since she didn’t know the child-cloud very well.

Lelia straddled one of the kitchen chairs, searching for words. She gulped, looked down, and said nothing. Novis didn’t push, she put a kettle on and went to the cupboard to get tea cups.

“Have you ever been afraid?” Lelia asked, in a tiny voice that sounded like fear itself.

“Of course I was! A million times! Who has lived and never been afraid! Is there something wrong? Someone bothering you?” the sister looked at Lelia, worried. The girl shook her head.

“No, nothing of the sort. There isn’t anything in particular, is just…” she stopped.

“Just what, dear?” Novis asked.

“Well, it is the ceremony,” Lelia started again.

“Oh, you’ve got stage fright, it’s perfectly normal,” Novis said, relieved.

“It’s not stage fright, that’s just it, I don’t exactly know what I’m afraid of, I just can’t picture what life will be like once I join the Simplex Cloud, I know it’s silly, especially since Ael had already been there and can’t stop talking about it. Do you know how intimidating it is for a cloud to have a sibling prodigy who is much younger and already joined the Simplex? What if I can’t get used to it? I don’t even know what “it” is supposed to be? What if I hate it? I’ll be there forever, you know? And everybody else seems so at ease with being fused with hundreds of other clouds. I am so afraid!”

Sister Novis sighed, then took the kettle from the stove and filled the cups.

“You are venturing into the unknown. The unknown scares us all, young and old, but it is also the most precious gift we get from life, our chance to grow and change. What would we look forward to if we already knew everything the future holds?” sister Novis said.

“I feel so silly, Ael tells me all these stories about the Simplex, and what she’s doing there, and dad spends all of his time there, but he’s also here, see? How am I going to get used to something like that?” Lelia asked.

“You are a cloud, yours is an inherited memory, I’m sure you’ll know what to do,” sister Novis appeased her.

“What if I don’t? I’m only half cloud, what if the human half can’t adjust?” Lelia said.

“Ael seems to be perfectly fine,” Novis replied.

“That’s why I feel silly even talking about it,” Lelia lowered her gaze.

“The unknown is a challenge for all of us, you can’t always be sure when you open a door what you’re going to discover behind it, but if you don’t open it, you will always be controlled by your fear. It’s OK to be unsure, or afraid, and it’s OK to make mistakes, too,” sister Novis answered. “And it’s OK to not be able to explain what you’re afraid of.”

“I was worried that you’d laugh at me,” Lelia said.

“Believe me, child, I would be the last person in the world to laugh at someone for being afraid,” sister Novis said. “You know that recommendation, do the thing you’re afraid of, and the death of fear is certain? In my experience I found this advice to work a lot better in theory than it does in practice.”

“What do you do, then?” Lelia asked.

Sister Novis paused, unsure if she should continue, she didn’t want to upset Lelia even more, but the girl was looking at her, with large eyes insisting on an answer, so she continued.

“You learn to live with it,” she said.

“Live with what?” Lelia asked.

“Fear, uncertainty, doubt, you just learn to incorporate them into your life. After you stop fighting uncertainty you get to see past it, and notice many doors open where you thought was just one. You think of your Bonding Ceremony as a sequence of events when in fact it is an expansion of possibility, like acquiring an extra sense, or being able to fly. You don’t know what to do with an extra sense, but you have a lifetime to explore its potential.”

“How do you know all this?” Lelia asked, doubtful.

“Because I stood in front of my own doors, wondering whether I should open them, baby.”

“Did you ever wish you didn’t?” Lelia asked.

“Statistically speaking, you are always better off opening a door than not opening it. Of course, statistics rely on the law or large numbers, so, the fewer the instances, the less predictable your outcome is. That’s why you need to move past mistakes quickly, you learn something from every experience anyway.”

“But…” Lelia hesitated, “that feeling of uncertainty, I never want to feel like that again, it is sheer agony!”

“Yes, it is.”

“You are saying I have to enjoy feeling this way?” Lelia asked, whimpering.

“I didn’t say you had to like it. Nobody likes it. I just said get used to it and don’t let it affect the decisions you make. If you make a decision while you set your fear aside, the decision may be right or wrong, but if you make it based on your desire to escape your fear, the decision will always be wrong.”

“Why can’t I just stay away from the things that make me uncomfortable?” Lelia asked.

“There is no place in the universe where you can be safe from your fears. Wherever you run, they will find you, it is like trying to outrun your own shadow, and just as life wasting.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just not be afraid of anything?” Lelia asked.

“Everybody is afraid of something, dear, and that which you are afraid of will torment you until you look it square in the eye and stop running from it.”

“What are you afraid of?” Lelia asked.

Sister Novis paused and frowned, searching for a good example of her fears. It wasn’t easy, but she finally found it.

“Hell.”

#science fiction #utopia #utopia society

0 notes