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pedropascal-y · 1 year

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Across The Pond - Joel Miller x f!Reader

summary: you're a visitor from the UK when the outbreak happens. You're also the newest member of Jackson, Wyoming.

Warnings (WHOLE STORY): MDNI, 18+, Smut, incel-type behavior (not from Joel), minor wound discussion, trauma, murder (infected killing), age gap (you're almost thirty and Joel is 50), lmk if I missed any.

a/n: thank you so much to my bestie, @lovers-liability , for helping me with this story! They have given me many ideas and encouraged me to write this! Much love! - Liv

Wordcount: 2.7k

your mp3 playlist: ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Index:

Chapter 1 - The Walls - 04/14/2023

Chapter 2 - Lovely Meetin Ya - 04/19/2023

Chapter 3 - PTSD - 05/08/2023

The sun beats down on your neck, surely adding to your already present sunburn. It was simply apart of you now, sunburn forever graced your skin since Summer arrived. It took so long for you and Felix to reach any semblance of normal socialization. According to those within the walls of the QZ’s, they were not normal there. Felix walks ahead of you, silently listening for anyone around you. “Why’s it so bloody hot here?” You groan, not used to the constant sunshine and missing the constant cover of clouds back in the UK. Felix rolls his eyes. He’s certainly used to your complaining by now, seeing as you both have been on the road for some near 20 years. Not that you could keep count, your phone continues to track the day and time when it is charged that is. It hadn’t been charged for a few months, or at least it felt that way.

“You really need to stop complaining, hun.” Felix scolds you.

“It’s all I’ve got to do.” You say right back to him, scooting your rifle further onto your shoulder, “it’s not like I can read this sodding map,” you continue, looking at the years of arrows and directions written on to it. You had asked Felix to teach you but he never did, he said there was no use in teaching you when you had him. Everything on it was foreign to you, except the small arrows, those were simple enough to know.

“How your wound?” He asks you, stopping for a moment to check on you.

You lift your shirt slightly, exposing the infected wound that you sustained in a fight with some raider determined to take everything you had. “It’s bloody painful but I can handle. I just hope we find some medicine soon.” You sigh, exhausted physically and mentally. Although, everyone must be exhausted in every meaning of the word. The world had ended and everyone was on guard, especially around other people. Humans were more brutal than the infected in this fallen society. Your wound was more than proof of that.

You were 9 years old when the outbreak happened, spent most of the years afterward inside the airport. You had managed to stay alive after everyone else died by locking yourself in a bathroom and stealing food from the plethora of food establishments. After 17 years, thousands of books read, and all the food scavenged from the airport, you decided it was time to leave. The time spent in the airport taught you basic survival skills, quite a few skills with medical care and aniamal care but reading a map of the United States was still a daunting task.

You try to find your way toward the front door when a sound comes from the starbucks to your left. Freezing, you pull your metal rod from your backpack and head toward the sound. The sound continued as you inched closer, getting louder and more frequent. A man a couple years older than you pops out from behind the coffee bar, “Don’t hurt me!” He yells. You hold your rod in a defensive position and stare at him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, ready to attack at any moment. He puts his hands down slowly and dusts them off. He starts, “Well, I was looking for food, there is none in here by the way.”

“I know.”

“You know?” He asks.

“That Starbucks has been empty for months.”

“How’d you know?”

“I cleared it out months ago. I’ve slowly been making my way through every shop here.” You explain, lowering your rod. Your arm was tired and he seemed nice enough. Granted you haven’t spoken to another human being since your mom died in your arms.

“Hold on, how long have you been here?” He asks, hoping over the counter to stand in front of you. You take a step back, clearing more space between the both of you.

“Since the day it happened.” You explain to him. His face drops and so does your defense.

“Stop, right now!” A man yells, approaching you two on a horse. Felix raises his rifle and aims it at the man. Another man rides in on a horse at our left, “I recommend you lower your weapon right now.” You step closer to Felix, nervous that this was it, you were outnumbered. Two more men arrive on your unprotected side, surrounding you completely. Felix slowly lowers his gun, making eye contact with what he assumes is the leader.

“We’re friendly,” Felix says, sliding the rifle stap onto his shoulder, “We just need a little help, she’s hurt.” You slap his shoulder, upset that he revealed your vulnerability.

“Is she bit?” The first man asks Felix, completely ignoring your existence as a sentient being. Felix shakes his head and lifts your shirt to show the wound, “She was stabbed.” You shove your shirt down and Felix’s hand as quick as your hands would allow. The man on the horse nods at his pack and turns around. The horse rider behind you speaks up, “Get walkin, follow Tommy.” You start walking, cautious of the people surrounding you.

“Fel, why would you tell them I’m injured?” You whisper quietly, eyeing the person to your left. Felix looks at you and back at the leader whose name is Tommy, apparently, “You need help, hun, we need to take the chance that they can help.” You roll your eyes and press a couple fingers into the skin around the wound. As much as you hated to admit it, Felix was right, you weren’t going to survive long with the wound growing more infected. You speak up, “I can tend the wound myself, I just need the supplies,” Tommy keeps his eyes ahead, watching his pathway closely.

After walking for a kilometer or so, Tommy lets out a whistle. “Send out the dog!” He yells. You look up from the ground and there stands massive walls. They look sturdy, strong and able to withstand just about anything. You let out a deep sigh, some relief falling off your shoulders. Loud creaking is heard from the direction of the walls and a dog comes sprinting at you and Felix. You freeze, worried the dog may attack you. That Tommy had led you to your death. The dog stops at Felix’s feet and sniffs him over. Felix waves a hand to you gently, signalling it’s okay. It eases you for a moment. He was always good at that, calming you down when the stress of the situation becomes too much for you. It was a skill he picked up rather quickly after our meeting in the airport.

The dog stops sniffing Felix and heads over to you. “Lift your shirt.” The man on my left yelled from atop his horse. “Excuse me?” You snapped your head toward him.

“The dog needs to get a whiff of your scent to make sure you’re not infected.” He says, impatiently gripping at his horse’s reigns. You nod slowly and lift your shirt for a moment, the dog continues to sniff. You knew you weren’t infected but the idea that perhaps the dog could be wrong was paralyzing you. You take a deep breath in as the dog walks away from you and sits at Tommy’s horse’s feet. “Alright, let’s get you folks some medicine,” Tommy begins the walk toward the gate placed between the walls of the commune.

As the gates closed behind you, a woman came and grabbed the reigns of Tommy and his friend’s horse. “I’m Lucas, nice to meet you.” Tommy’s friend introduces himself, sticking a hand out. You take it, shake it firmly and introduce yourself. “Lovely name, let’s get you over to the medical building.” He smiles and begins walking as Tommy heads away with Felix. Felix looks entirely unsure about splitting up but Tommy assures him there is a strict rule on how many people can be in the medical building at once.

You follow quietly behind Lucas as he explains the buildings and things you pass on your way there. The closer you were to help, the heavier your body felt. “Lucas, how much farther?” You ask, trying your hardest to keep pushing. He looks back at you, noticing your skin getting paler. He slips his arm under yours and leads you into the medical building.

“What’s her problem?” A man in a white coat asks Lucas while aiding your climb to the bed. He shrugged, “She has an infected wound and dehydration, I guess?”

“You guess?” The doctor snarls at him.

“She’s got wicked sunburn all over her body, I felt it reasonable to deduce dehydration.” Lucas explains, holding his hands playfully in a surrender position. The doctor dismisses him and slides an I.V. into your vein. “I’m Dr. Michealson. Are you able to tell me what’s wrong?” The doctor asks as he hooks you up to the I.V.

“Wound, dehydrated and sunburn.” You tell him quietly, enjoying the pillow behind your head. It had been months since you’d actually gotten to lay your head on one and was taking everything in you not to fall asleep. The doctor nods, “Nice accent. Where you from?” You sigh deeply, “The United Kingdom, stranded here while on holiday.”

“Alright, ma’am, we’re gonna get you some painkillers and then you can get some rest while I clean your wounds and get something for that sunburn.” Dr. Michaelson tells you, searching through his medicine cabinet for the proper equipment.

“Grounded? Bloody Hell.” Your mother cursed under her breath, staring at the Arrivals/Departures board. People were running around you, on their way to their gates or desperate to reach their loved ones at the baggage claim. “Sweetie, go sit down with your dad please.” She asks you, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. You turn around and take a seat on the bench next to your father.

“What’s going on, dad?” You ask him, resting your head on his arm. He sighs and hugs you close, “I’ve no clue, my love.” A scream rings out through the airport causing you to jump from your seat. You look over at where the scream came from and spot a man hunched over a woman, tearing into her throat. Another scream rips through the airport, this time, from you. The mans head snaps up toward you and sprints directly at you. Your father shoves you behind him, protecting you from the man with black veins around his face. Blood. Blood spraying from your fathers neck as he’s slammed to the floor from force of the man. Your mother turns around and brings her hand to her mouth, she yanks your arm away from the man devouring your father. Strangers around your father yank the man off of him, too late.

Your mother quickly makes a run in the opposite direction, holding your arm as she goes. “Mom!” You yell, “Mom! Slow down!” She shows no signs of letting up, desperate to get away from that mess. “We left dad!” You scream causing her to come to a full stop.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry we left your dad. We had to, that man was dangerous.” She explains gently. “Perhaps we’ll go back once things calm down, honey.” You feel tears prickling your eyes, you had finally processed what you saw. Your father, dead on the airport floor trying to protect you. The airport grow louder, screams and yelling from every direction. Your mother looks around, clearly stressed, trying to find out where to go. She pulls you toward the bathroom, shoving you both inside and locking the door behind you. Some women come out of the bathroom stalls, curious as to why your mother locked them in the bathroom. “What’s happening?” An american woman asks while running her hands under the water.

“People are killing other people out there.” She holds her hands on the door, pouring her weight into keeping it closed. The women look horrified as the realization settles in. The screaming and yelling finally hitting her ear drums. The american woman whispers, “Do not open that door.”

“I didn’t bloody plan on it!” Your mom curses, throwing her back against it and sitting down. You sit down and finally let go of your suitcase. It had remained glued to your hand since your father had been peacefully sitting on the bench. You slide your backpack off your shoulders and pull out your stuffed animal. You tug your mp3 out of your bag and press play. Nat King Cole’s music fills your ears as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to block out the world falling apart around you.

Your eyes snap open, unsure of where you are. The room is silent, clean, nothing like a medical office. “ ‘Ello?” You call out while sitting up, wincing at the healing wound. You hear shuffling in the building and the door swings open a moment later. Felix’s face is scrunched up in concern, a man follows in behind him and checks my I.V. port. “Felix, where am I?” You ask him, eyeing the doctor suspiciously. “We’re in our home.” He says low, unsure whether to actually call it that. He definitely didn’t feel like he was home, he was so used to sleeping in the same area as you he felt unsure sleeping in a different room. “Home?” You ask, lifting your shirt to check your wound.

“We dressed your wound, we didn’t want to change your clothes without your consent so we put a bandage on to keep it clean.” The doctor tells you, his name slowly coming back to you. “Want to try walking, miss?” He extends a hand out for you to grab onto. Felix rushes over and replaces the doctors hand with his own. You grab onto his arm, ready to use him to lift yourself. Your stomach aches lightly as you straighten out, “Can I go outside?” You ask, “I want to see the place.”

The doctor looks over at Felix, “If you’re up for it, I wont deny you that.” You smile and head out the bedroom door. The more you walk, the better you feel. No longer needing his arm, you hold onto the stair hand rail and walk down them, anxious to see the sunlight. Felix races down the stairs and swings the front door open. The smell of fresh air hits you making your excitement build. “Blimy!” You yell once your feet touch the grass in your yard. People giggle around you, enjoying your excitement. “Why do you sound like thet?” A young girl asks you, tugging at her moms hand. Her mother sighs and kneels down, “Sweetheart that’s not nice to ask.”

“It’s quite alright, I’m from the United Kingdom.” You say and kneel down in front of her. She looks at you, more confused than before. It hits you that she was born after the outbreak and you smile and apologize, “Sorry, It’s a place far from here.” Her mother smiles at you, thankful to you for taking the time and being patient with her daughter.

“Well, I’m Amy!” She stands on her tippy-toes and back down to her heels. You introduce yourself, thickening your accent a bit for the girls enjoyment. That’s when Joel sees you. The new girl, the one who’s not been seen since she was transported to her new home. He had never gotten a good look at you but there you were. Talking gently to a young girl making her smile. He watches as the sun bathes in a golden light, your hair is sweaty and some of it stuck to your forehead and yet he finds you absolutely breath-taking. He sees you talking to Amy and her mother, completely unaware of his staring. You’re far enough away from him for him to not be able to make out your voice but he’s sure it’s beautiful. His eyes scan your body, memorizing every curve and mark visible to his eyes. Drinking you in and enjoying the show, Joel looks over and spots Felix staring at you. Felix’s eyes were full of admiration and love, watching you speak to Amy. Joel felt angry. You were already spoken for, all your beauty was his to enjoy and it wasn’t fair.

thank you for reading this fic! This is part one of many and I would love if you let me know how you feel about it! Sorry there wasn't much Joel in this part, but as MC eases into their community, you'll see more! Again, thank you Lucy for reading and giving me ideas! Also, no, you and Felix are not dating. Simply survival buddies, friends, amigos, but clealry Felix has more than friend feels ;)

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oncominggstorm · 6 months

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Im autistic & adhd. Also have undiagnosed physical health issues which been acting up lately. Really not doing well, need help. Currently in shutdown, include verbal shutdown. And struggling type, forgive grammar plz. Need help & support, but is none. Don’t know what do. Everything feel impossible. Long vent under cut.

Want run away, somewhere no one can find. Somewhere quiet & alone, with internet & tv so can watch comfort shows, play comfort games, etc. But will turn off phone, or get new number, or just block all family except younger sister on everything, or something, idk. Want comfy bed & comfy chairs & good temperature control & good food, and just quiet & solitude. Preferably somewhere out in nature. Let everyone figure out their own shit without me. Can’t do this anymore. ONLY things keeping me from doing are younger sister & lack of money. Mom & twin sister need figure shit out on own, can’t handle anymore. Can’t do.

Dont have a job or any money at all, literally only have $5 (and well over $20k in credit card debt, in collections). Am in autistic burnout & have been for nearly 3 years now. Had quit job in May cuz burnout so bad. But still expected take care of entire family.

Live with dad & twin sister (will call twin). Dad extremely NT & able bodied, dont understand me/twin at all. Knows nothing about autism/adhd & unwilling to learn. Pays bills & does chores so that is helpful, but not willing do any other support. Doesn’t believe in mental health.

Mom & younger sister (will call younger) live with grandma. Younger is 12 yrs younger, i basically raised. Feel almost more like parent than sister. Also is best friend & person i care most about in world, would die for her. Hate seeing her suffer. Twin & younger both also autistic & adhd, and neither have job. Grandma has moderate (bordering on advanced) dementia & need 24/7 supervision & support. Younger currently has busted knee, on crutches & really struggling & lot of pain. Mom refusing to believe is as bad as is, thinks younger is exaggerating, barely helping her. Ive been having drive over nearly daily to help. Mom had multiple strokes 2 years ago, still has both cognitive & physical challenges as result, & just lost job. Mom almost deffo undiagnosed autistic/adhd but refuses to believe. Doesnt believe younger is either (she still undiagnosed, me & twin formal diagnosed recently). Mom never great person, but got much worse after strokes, is mean & bordering on verbally abusive to us (and is DEFFO verbal abusive to grandma). Also has horrible memory & cognitive issues, doesnt understand things correctly, half of what she says doesn’t make sense, makes helping her hard.

Twin sick rn, lots of stomach issue & pain. Found out few months ago has enlarged spleen, but no answer yet, cant see specialist til Dec. Twin also has medical anxiety, so hard to know for sure what is real & what isnt. Every day twin ask me for MULTIPLE favors; get things for her, do things for her, etc. Also get MULTIPLE txts every day complaining about not feeling well, yet she refuse go doctors. Counted once a few days ago: in 11 hour period, asked for 7 favors & texted 13 times about pain.

Even when not sick tho, twin basically never help. Feels like she think I “less disabled” than her, not true. I doing horribly and still have take care everyone else while she sits on couch play video games & ask me to bring her things. No one ever bring ME things. Twin NEVER return favor no matter how bad I do/how well she do. One sided only.

Today twin ask for SO MANY THINGS, CONSTANTLY. Doesnt seem to care that I not doing well either & just CANNOT handle, keeps asking anyway. I tell her how bad am doing & immediately she ask for more favors. Won’t shut up about how sick she is (feeling very “wrong” w/stomach issues, has enlarged spleen but don’t know why yet & is worried that is cause), and says she is NOT OK, and that something is VERY wrong & she is worried she is dying, but also won’t get her ass to ER. Also expect /ME/ take her AND go in with, if decides go. Told her has to ask mom or dad first. Now just won’t go, and instead just keep complain to me about how bad doing & keep asking for help with stuff.

On top of that, am constant worried about all shit mom needs to do: get grandma house in her name so can keep (rn bank gets when grandma dies due to 2nd mortgage or something idk, which will make mom & younger homeless), get grandma car in her name (mom hasnt had own car in like 6+ yrs, just uses gma’s), figure out her unemployment (applied but no check yet cuz needs submit weekly proof of job applications & doesnt know how), get guardianship for grandma (mom never even got power of attorney, and is too late now cuz grandma cant understand to sign, so rn we just stuck cuz grandma not capable make decisions, but legally we cant make for her either), update her resume, get help for grandma, etc. Most of it fall to me. Mom kind of person who just WILL NOT do things, no matter how much help u give (ex: was trying get her accommodations for her job after strokes so wouldnt lose job. Explained process multiple times, both verbally & in writing. Figured out who she needed contact for help & wrote out email for her, ALL she had do was copy & paste & send email. Didnt do it. Now fired cuz couldnt keep up w/out accommodations). Mom also no longer even ask for help, just tells us we are doing. Ex: said to me “I’m going to come over tomorrow so you can help me do my job searches for unemployment.” Just tells me I’m doing it, not even ask. Sick of it. Grandma have dementia, at point where cannot even shower or wash hands, we have no support at all, doing everything ourselves. ADRC says only way to get grandma help is to put lien on her house & sell to pay off when she dies, but mom & younger live with grandma so that would make them homeless once she dies. Says we can’t even get occasional respite care unless give up house, let alone regular in home care.

Just can’t handle anymore. Feel like am being broke into thousand pieces, or crushed by thousand lb weights. Feel stuck. Feel like no choices, no good options, no way out. Want run away. Want take younger & her cat & find cabin in woods somewhere & just go run away from everything/everyone else. But can’t, no money. Feel so stuck. No help. No support. Don’t know what do.

#will probably delete this later but rn feel stuck & DESPERATE for help/ideas/suggestions #vent #autism #adhd #rant

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lake-archive · 5 months

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Chapter 1 - Pain At Work

Content Warning ahead!

Dazai-Typical S*icide References

If you have a hard time handling the topic or it just make you uncomfortable, I advise you to not proceed!

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Series: Lost Findings...

Characters: Annette 'Ann' Droste-Hülshoff (OC), Osamu Dazai

AO3 Link

Masterlist - Chapter 2

It had not been too long ever since Ann had accepted their position as a waitress at a small café. Café Uzumaki was its name. Not the biggest place but small and cozy at least with its frequent customers. Said frequent customers being some type of detective agency, or so they had heard. Well, it was not any of their business… Or so they make it out to be. They had their reasons, to say the least, but– No, they wouldn’t pry into those affairs. This was not why they had been here to begin with. They had their own business to attend to and crossing paths directly would be an inconvenience.

To them they were just a ‘normal young woman earning herself a living at this café’, the literal newcomer. It should stay that way… Or it would. Not like anyone from the agency would bother with someone like them to begin with. And despite that knowledge they may as well have been thrown into literal hot water here. While the other regular customers seemed fairly normal– No, scratch that. But they were polite at the very least, nothing nor anyone really overbearing, at least for their own good… With the exception of one individual. One they would rather not see ever again and would just wish that… That… Ugh, it was a pain to remember all the time, and even more of a pain to see him. Seriously, just crossing paths with him was the worst. And it just had to happen every single day, enough to get them into a sour mood. At first they thought of it as a joke but it happened more than they would like… They were at a loss for words honestly. This guy… He’s insufferable! Literally! How was he even allowed at a public place like this!? How!?

An answer they would never get most likely. Because the moment he had set his sights on the new waitress he would always wave her over, even yelling their name ever so loudly. “Hi Ann–Chan! Can you come over here for a moment!?” He would always ask, ever so cheerfully, no care in the world whatsoever. It had them on the edge to hear the tone in his voice alone, making them grumble ever so slightly. They tried to ignore it but the constant ‘Ann–Chan’ made them eventually turn around… As hard as it was in that tight green kimono (they were simply not used to wearing such robes, at all). At least their hair wouldn’t get in the way while turning around, being forced to have it tied in a ponytail after all.

Now, they could not just glare at him sharply either. That would be a little too much perhaps and could get them a complaint flatout. The other waitress had even warned Ann about this. “No matter what he says or does, always make sure to have a smile on your face and be polite. Don’t let your anger get the best of you. If anything, shoot right back while wearing that smile of yours~”

It was good advice but it was all easier said than done. And yet, they would force that smile upon their face, though wondering how long it could last this time, while slowly walking over. “Yes? What is it? Is something wrong with your order?” They asked while walking, trying to seem ever so clueless. Though they knew exactly where this was going… Given this man’s usual grin, making him look like a total dimwit. That’s just how he was though, most likely… Idiot. Literally.

“Haha, no no. Nothing like that.” He responded, his own smile not fading whatsoever. It only made them roll their own eyes for a moment… Or at least they wanted to. Because even they could tell what his next line would be and where this conversation would be headed. And yet, they had to keep up with their smile while enduring his own. “I just wanted to know if you finally considered my offer~”

“I would never~” They responded, tilting their head a little sideways while keeping their ever so innocent looking yet forced smile.

“But bella, bella” and here we go again… All while he took both of her hands and held them tightly, squeezing them lightly. Usually it might be comforting but with this guy? It was anything but. They just wanted to slap both of them away to be honest. He was pushing it… Even more when he said, yet again: “There is no other woman I could imagine to die alongside but you~! So please, let me have the honor!”

Ugh… That guy… Disgusting. It was hard to decide if they wanted to throw up on him or slam his head against the table's surface. No, rather pick him up and slam his entire body into the ground. And even then something like this couldn't fix someone like Osamu Dazai, could it?

“I can’t, sorry~” They only responded, the smile becoming more and more strained. Seriously, just a bit more before he pushes it and–

“Oh, do you want me to go on my knees? I can do that!” He responded ever so eagerly, face unchanged. Was he that desperate!? No, that can’t be it. Needless to say, this guy was starting to get on their nerves! But when was that not the case? Just when seeing him at the door they would love to throw him out right away. Seriously, how does the owner still allow him inside this café? How!? Ugh… He wasn’t even a paying customer! Instead he just put it on his ever so growing tab! Or so they had heard from the other waitress…

“Not even that would change my mind.” They said, the smile being at the brink of fading as their grip on his hands tightened, maybe a little too tight. Then again, that was the point, to see him flinch and lightly wince in pain, just barely enduring it. Luckily they had more than enough strength in their arms, way more than one might even suspect. So this was a rather easy thing to pull off. All while no one on the outside would suspect a thing when looking at it… Well, not closely at least.

They heard him let out quiet ‘Ows’ yet he seemed to bare with it, even continuing to converse. “Haha, but what if it will convince you? Just imagine, both of us down in the afterlife, knowing that we passed on at the same time. Doesn’t it sound wonderful?”

“Wonderful my ass.” That was close to the last straw. Their smile faded, replaced with an intense glare as their own grip tightened.

“C… Cruel… Not even giving a man his last wish. Would that sway–”

“If you wanna pass on so badly… Do it by yourself!” They suddenly shouted while suddenly grabbing Dazai by both of his arms, lifting him up no problem in fact, before slamming him right down, face flat on the table. They sure wanted to throw him through the window but the boss would cut their salary for the month, so they could not afford that. This had to do.

They then put their hands on their hips, leaning a little forward while looking at the man, this one being in a clearly weakened state, face just facing the tabletop and he didn’t really lift himself up. Yet that didn’t stop them from shouting as a reminder. “I don’t know what you’re pulling but shut up, will you!? Now finish your water and don’t keep pestering me!” Not even waiting for a response they leaned back and turned away, taking several steps to walk away from this scene. “Idiot.”

This was the ordinary work day however, taking orders and serving them, maybe conversing but more often than not dealing with this man. At least it’s only at work and not during free time or worse, their personal investigations. And they surely hoped that it would still be that way… No, it probably will. At least they were sure of it at the time. The last thing Ann needed in such things was a pain in the ass. He can stay an unbearable customer in their life.

Masterlist - Chapter 2

#Nimue's Lake #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs oc #bsd oc #osamu dazai #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #bsd fanfic #original character #tw sui talk #cw sui joke #cw sui mention

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crystalelemental · 9 months

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Legendary Gauntlet - Uxie/Latias/Moltres

Alright, Gauntlet is back! I actually like Gauntlet, and the candy coin rewards are always nice. I aim for 100 streaks mostly for the extra powerup tickets. That’s exactly enough to 20/20 a character for free. And after the last few were so brutal, it’ll be nice to get away from the harder fights for-that is Latias again. That’s like three in a row, DeNA. Can we please get another? Ugh. Whatever. Is the guaranteed lucky skill any good? MGR2? Sure, DeNA.

General Overview Well, the good news is their conditions are all different? Uxie takes the status, except Sleep which can be used against Latias. Latias takes your debuffers or Haze bots. Moltres takes your weather setters, except Sun. Uxie in particular is easy to hit the 10 win limit off of. BP Erika, Lucy, Tech Venomoth, and Lodge Calem are four F2P aligned picks that have the exact tools to completely check Uxie’s gimmicks. So you’ll only need three options on the others, which is much more achievable.

But if you’re like me? If you like long streaks? Prepare for the hardest Gauntlet to date.

Latias is a known pain in the ass, because its gimmick is evasion play in Bar 2. Latias is annoying because, even with well-crafted teams that counter its general utility, it can just decide not to lose. And you need multiple stats debuffed, which denies single-debuff options like Surge and Mina. Moreover, while you have the option to use pairs that bypass its gimmick, its boosted offenses severely threaten their longevity, especially with Sure Crit Earthquake. Even worse, then you run into issues with Uxie. Status Changes for parts 2 and 3 are Flinch (unreliable, you get one), Confuse (often low odds, and recovers quickly), Trap (the only common useful one), Restrain (very rare), Sure Hit from Thorton and SC Steven, and Rebuff (very rare). The point being? There are not enough options that handle Uxie’s status change conditional. It’s brutal, and the decision on who goes where becomes very challenging as a result.

Then you throw in Moltres. Did you know? There are only like 18 weather setters in the entire game that aren’t Sun. About a quarter of them are eggmons, who only get two applications, and this fucker changes weather FIVE TIMES. To compound matters, missing MPR on those who can manually set it means at least one HP bar is going to kill you. Oh, and let’s not forget that in many situations? Your weather setter is also the sync nuker. Which means if you don’t quad queue, eat Heat Wave on the phase transition. The solution is often flinch, but that’s inconsistent, and missing even one time in Bar 2 means your entire party is burned, and you’ve effectively lost the match.

This trio is nasty. This is going to be incredibly hard. The only consolation is that you can recycle teams from a previous Gauntlet earlier this year, when Latias and Moltres reran together before. Because that’s what we really needed, was the two worst stages to see in Gauntlet running together twice. Like, seriously, can we get a break? Just give us a month with Latios, Raikou, and like Bulu or Entei or something, please. I just got here and I’m so tired.

Uxie Of the three, Uxie is the easier one to manage. Uxie is easier because nothing it does is immediately threatening. Uxie doesn’t have big pop damage that can put your strikers at critical health in one shot like the other two. But the tradeoff is that Uxie builds immunity to flinch and sleep very quickly, and applies a consistent pressure that cannot be stopped. Combined with its sharp damage reduction if gimmicks aren’t checked, this can mean eating a lot of syncs from it, and getting steadily worn down.

The gimmicks are both status types. Bar 1 is 80% reduction without a status condition (paralysis, burn, poison, freeze, sleep), Bar 2 is 80% reduction without a status change (flinch, confuse, trap, restrain, sure hit, rebuff), Bar 3 gives one stage of 40% reduction for each, hitting 64% total if netiher is checked. Brief note: at new HP Bars, Uxie will apply Sure Crit to itself. This counts as a status change, and is an opportunity to sneak in some extra damage.

F2P players are in luck. With the introduction of Lodge Calem, who is entirely free because base Calem is free, we now have four F2P options that completely answer this fight. BP Erika, Lucy, Lodge Calem, and Tech Venomoth all have the combination of a status move, and Trap or Confuse. With this, you can complete 4/10 fights, simplifying the other two as only needing three wins each.

The bad news comes from longer streaks. Uxie is a progression blocker. From the list, you might think there are tons of ways to bypass its gimmicks, but status change is rare. Status conditions are plentiful, especially without Tornadus or Cobalion around to siphon off options. But status change? There are not that many trap users, very few rebuff and restrain users, and exactly two Sure Hit pairs. To compound matters, Flinch gets one shot, so unless you’re using it with a tech nuke that will one-shot the HP bar right away, it’s unreliable, and Confuse is frankly not much better. There are a lot of Confuse pairs that get the effect off their main, or only, DPS attack, and applying it at the wrong time is devastating. Moreover it runs off flinch mechanics, were most do not guarantee the effect, so it’s constant gambling. The only consistent options are Trap, Restrain, and Rebuff, with Restrain and Rebuff never growing to immunity. For longer streaks, Uxie’s consideration needs to be putting all status change users on deck. You are going to need them all here.

Team 1: Cheryl, BP Erika, Giovanni A tried and true, constant success team. Giovanni’s DPS is very respectable, and BP Erika provides the Toxic and Trap to remove Uxie’s gimmick. Despite being physical, Cheryl at 5* is completely capable of taking Uxie’s hits, and provides Giovanni with exactly the buffs he needs.

Team 2: MU Torchic, Lucy, Shauntal I’m not fully confident in this, but oh well. Shauntal is able to deal respectable damage, she just needs someone to buff for her. Critically, MU Torchic has Synchro Healing, which is nice for alleviating the constant damage pressure Uxie produces. I do think Torchic can struggle with survival though. Lucy exists to hit both conditions.

Team 3: Roxanne/Hop, Lodge Calem/Selene, Allister Allister is actually a solution on his own, with Poison and Restrain, which counts as a status change. That said, Allister is bad at setting it up, so Selene is one option. If you’re going for Selene, maybe pick up Hop. He can top off her needed attack and crit, and has good healing potential. Otherwise, Lodge Calem is an option for Burn and Confuse rates, with Roxanne then supplying really good gauge and the needed special attack for the two of them.

Team 4: Lodge Morty, Tech Venomoth/Tech Cloyster, Agatha Lodge Morty is a decent partner to Agatha. Decent, anyway. Tech Venomoth or Lodge Calem are recommended because Agatha’s sync is not so impressive that one Hypnosis gets the job done, and it can grow immune. A backup status is encouraged. But if you like to live dangerously, Cloyster is fine for Trap.

Solo and Duo Potential There are 30 potential solo options. Ball Guy, P!Bea, NC Bede, NC Calem, and Aura Cynthia are the only ones listed as reasonable. You can likely guess why. All of them carry some form of status or status change, and a ton of consistent healing pressure. That’s what it takes to survive Uxie. You want healing to offset its damage, and to check its gimmicks as thoroughly as possible.

Latias Anyone else sick of this fight? I’m sick of this fight. I think it’s been three Gauntlets in a row with this, so anyone who’s been playing this year is familiar with the deal. For those unaware, Latias works with debuffs. It will constantly buff its stats at nearly every phase change, with Bar 2 being aggressive with boosting evasion, and Bar 3 boosting all stats except Attack at the outset. Latias will reduce damage taken based on how many buffs it has, and can reduce damage to 0. This is a factor not just of how many debuffs it has, but how many stats are debuffed. You can’t get away with only one stat being debuffed, you need at least 3 for reasonable damage. So many F2P options like Eggmons, Mina, and Surge, are actually not great at answering it. To make matters worse, Latias opens Bar 3, now fully attack buffed, and swings with Sure Hit Earthquake. If your team is weakened at all, this can be fatal to strikers. Your support also requires you to have proper offensive pressure at the outset in a 3v3 fight, as the sides get +2 to their relevant offensive stat with every attack, and can beat down center if you’re not careful. Lastly, Latias will, after using its first sync, use Mud Slap, with Ripple Effect. This can devastate a team’s ability to hit in later phases, where it buffs evasion, then gets more evasion every time it dodges. Even well thought out teams with good debuffs and relevant offense, can still lose because Latias decides just not to get hit.

The positives are that Haze and Snatch work, so Brycen, SS Misty, and Grimsley are excellent in this fight. Mud Slap only hurts sides if it hurts center, so Supports with Impervious, like Sycamore or Hilbert, can completely shut that down. Accuracy buffing is also always nice. And until its final phase, Latias can be sleep chained, making your sleep bots relevant picks. Of course, you have to balance this around the debuffing, which is where the challenge arises. Teambuilding is, in fact, an entire pain.

Team 1: Brycen, Sycamore, Support Primeape Sycamore responds pretty well to this fight, with just Brycen’s help. The Haze thing does wonders. Support Primeape gives Sycamore the exact amount of crit needed, with a little bit more attack right away for Horn Leech when needed. Added bonus, Brycen can get lucky and freeze, stalling out some actions. It’s uncommon but fun when it lands.

Team 2: Victrier, Misty, Lisia You might not know it, but Lisia is one of the best answers to this fight. Dragon damage at the outset, Fairy DPS in the second half. Victrier is a greak pick because he can buff Lisia’s needed stats, and can Haze away problem stats. Misty is the support of choice, because she can provide some evasion of her own, heals a bit, and boosts special defense for team survival.

Team 3: Grimsley, Leaf, Ghetsis Grimsley is unnecessary. Leaf and Ghetsis are a great duo for this fight, with Leaf offering a good amount of healing, offsets the accuracy issues and have Imperious, and even tops off Ghetsis’ special attack and flinches. Ghetsis Noble Roar Double Drop is plenty to handle it alongside speed debuffs too, with the AoE on Glaciate doing plenty. But if you want more, Grimsley can flinch, and remove defensive drops.

Team 4: SS Misty, Lodge Dawn, Caitlin Caitlin and Lodge Dawn are incredible as partners. The main thing to keep in mind is Misty’s Haze for removing buffs, critically at the start of Bar 2 and Bar 3, and her Mist ability, which blocks debuffs. Eat shit, Mud Slap. Caitlin is exceptional with 3v3 fights and Lodge Dawn on her side, given how well Dawn complements her buffs. Dawn can even take first sync for some evasion shenanigans of her own. Most notably, the special attack drops mean Latias doesn’t hit nearly as hard, and Dawn is good at recovering HP passively.

Solo and Duo Potential There are 27 Solos. Only SS Cyrus and Sycamore are listed as reasonable, and I don’t even agree with Sycamore; Defense Crush Lucky Skill and “get lucky with Bar 2 hits” is not exactly easy. Cyrus is at least “Just spam Dark Void bro.” Then again, I routinely use SS Lyra to solo this fight. She has the potential with MPR on Grassy Terrain, but I hate it. It’s just not a fun time for anyone. I sincerely recommend going Duo if you need to. The main draw of a Duo is really just any offensive option that can handle sides without much issue, and debuff severely. Defensive support wants to focus on survival, maybe flinch or sleep. I don’t think it’s particularly easy, but you can probably get away with a few comps.

Moltres The worst fight. I say this very sincerely, I think Moltres is too tough to be allowed in Gauntlet. I legitimately do. If Cresselia is banned for having too little counterplay, so should Moltres.

“But Crystal, Moltres can be flinch locked, and changing the weather ruins it!” Okay, let’s talk about that. Did you know there are like 18 weather setters that don’t set Sun in this game? Only 18. At least a quarter are eggmons, who have only 2MP. A decent chunk activate weather only on sync, which means incredibly precise timing. Many who set weather are techs who are also the primary damage dealers, so you’ll need to quad queue after a sync or attack to apply weather quickly before phase transitions. Flinching is a viable solution, but you want to run both to have better odds, because flinch locking under Sun has its own problems. Specifically, what happens when you miss.

In Bar 2, Moltres begins spamming AoE moves. If even a single one gets through? Enjoy your entire party being burned. You will not survive this. Unless you are Barry, or have a Support with Full Heal or Friend Mend and get lucky enough to refresh everyone? You do not survive this. It is an automatic reset, because you missed a 60% chance one time. And the opening phases of this fight can be brutal. It’s a lot of specific setup, specific timing, and most damning, pure RNG. It is a miserable fight.

Team 1: May, Sabrina, Will May is an incredibly strong answer to this fight...provided she has the MPR for it. You’ll need at least one, but maybe 2. Will can flinch reliably, while Sabrina carries boosted special attack and accuracy for Muddy Water. May, as the sync nuker and Rain setter, needs to quad queue, or rely heavily on Will’s flinch in bar transitions.

Team 2: Candice, Sonia, Nanu Sonia is a nice pick for this fight, boosting the crit rate the team needs to function, and providing a lot of healing backbone. Which you’ll need because Candice is weak to fire. Nanu’s flinch game has to be immaculate is Candice fails a quad queue. That said, Candice can land incredibly strong syncs, and only needs one MPR to clear the fight. Nanu’s Screech supplements her damage so well. It’s probably worth letting Sonia take first sync if she’s EX. Better a slow phase 1 than risking a missed KO later.

Team 3: Marlon, Winona, Cyrus Winona is a strong response to this fight, with her flinch rate and ability to set weather. Marlon gets a lot better under Rain, buffs both defenses for team survival, and notably has Team Pinpoint Entry to ensure Cyrus won’t miss. Flinch the first Leer, let Winona take first sync to set Rain, and Cyrus should be good. You’ll have to be a bit lucky with flinches in later Bar 2 and 3, but it’s achievable.

Team 4: Shauna, Acerola, Roark This one actually works better than it appears. Roark is a fantastic sync nuker, who is supereffective against two of Moltres’ HP Bars. Acerola has the coveted flinch effect alongside Sandstorm, making her perfect. What rules about this team is that all DPS is 1-bar. Even with severely lowered speed, your gauges should be fine.

Solo and Duo Potential You want the ultimate proof that Moltres shouldn’t be allowed to compete? There are seven solos listed. This is the lowest number of solos of any Legendary Arena. Even Cresselia has more, at 10. Moltres is that ridiculous. All but Palentines Bea are listed as heavy RNG and reset heavy. I cannot in good conscience talk about solo and duo potentials, because I feel like they’re insanely frustrating and not worth it when dealing with the bitchbird.

Final Thoughts I hate this Gauntlet. I’m so sick of Latias. I never want to see Moltres again. Uxie’s okay but annoying when it’s partnered with the other two. This whole set just feels painful, and I don’t like it. It’s achievable with some general pool tools, but man am I ever not a fan.

#legendary gauntlet

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unnerving-presence · 3 years

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Hi I'm the anon that has send the request about the reader killing the killers, and I loved it!

Can I ask for a part two? Where the entity takes notice of how powerful the reader is and makes them her vessel of sorts, giving them powers and whenever Killers are misbehaving, she sends the reader to..... "teach" them a "lesson"

Same Killers please if you could 🥰

Wow I am so messed up

Of course :) I resisted the urge to elaborate on the readers power but the entity basically merged with them so they have the power of the entity in a way and they’re not as sympathetic so it’s easier for them to put the killers in their place

I love this concept so much I literally have to hold back from writing too much. if you couldn’t tell i love torturing the killers lmao

warning: graphic depictions of violence and gore. this is basically just torture stuff so if you are not comfortable with it please do not read!

Part 1

༒༒༒༒༒

Kazan Yamaoka/The Oni:

As brutal as you were, Kazan never expected the Entity to make you it’s servant. He hasn’t talked to you much ever since you’ve been restricted from going into trials, so the only way he would really know about you serving the Entity is if another killer told him, or if you had to punish him yourself.

For the first time in his life, he’s actually been afraid of someone. Nobody has been able to (alone) take him down. Now seeing as someone like you can? He’s not terrified, if anything he sees you as a little badass, but he does not want to get on your bad side.

He’s never seen you punish a killer, but he has seen the aftermath. The Hillbilly, better known as Max Thompson Jr., decided that he wouldn’t listen to The Entity, decided that he’d kill the survivors the way he wanted. All of them died too quickly for The Entity to feed on their fear, and she was not pleased. Needless to say that the poor man’s cries of pain could be heard for miles, and Kazan would never forget the way Max was desperately trying to keep his organs in place as he struggled to get back to his realm. You wouldn’t even give him the sweet release of death after you were done with him..

This is nothing like when the mob attacked, not even close. This was a new type of pain, pain that makes you wish you were dead. Kazan was never one to give up so easily, but in your grasp he feels so helpless. He doesn’t even have the energy to be angry anymore. He feels so vulnerable with his mask off, with his armor tossed to the side. His jaw is now broken, and his ribs feel like they’re going to snap at any second. You’ve barely started, and you’re already making him regret his actions in his last trial.

“I’m not going to kill you, but I am going to make it hurt.”

Michael Myers/The Shape:

At first, he doesn’t really seem to care that much. If he’s not the one in pain, it’s not really his problem. He still holds a bit of a grudge against you, meaning he stalks you, so he’s known since the start that you’re serving The Entity.

He’s surprised that you’ve gotten this far just from killing him, though he is a bit jealous. You don’t really scare him that much considering your small stature. If anything it’s kind of cute to him. Just a little thing like you running around and giving killers a little bonk on the head for not doing good in trials is a thought that almost makes him smirk. Of course those thoughts were before he’s seen you punish a killer. Now that he’s really seeing it in action, he understands why The Entity made you it’s servant. Though he is far from scared of you, he is a bit impressed at how the other killers feel a bit more uneasy when they see you pass by, some even fleeing to their own realms.

Michael can do almost anything he wants in The Entity’s realm without being punished. Hell, he even kills the survivors too fast for the Entity’s liking and comes back from a trial unscathed. Now with you by The Entity’s side, Michael isn’t as free as he used to be. Michael doesn’t know that however, and doesn’t really seem to care. Atleast he didn’t seem to care until he was the one in all those other killer’s shoes.

It’s been what seemed like hours and Michael looks like he’s on the verge of tears. With his own knife, you’ve managed to do quite a bit to him. His mask is removed, face terribly bruised with a nose bleed that seems like it could go on forever. He’s lost a couple fingers, and the remaining digits no longer have nails. His arms and chest are littered with large and small stab wounds alike, ones that you dig your fingers into when it seems like he hasn’t quite gotten the message that he isn’t in charge here. Michael’s vision occasionally blacks out, only to be woken up by a bash on the head with the handle of the knife. You’re not sure how much he can take, but you are sure that Michael will never forgive you for this.

Summoning a sharp tendril, you swiftly pierce it through Michael’s leg, waking him and receiving a loud grunt as he stares up at you with a tired but furious gaze.

“Wakey wakey Michael, I’m not quite done with you yet.”

Danny Johnson/Ghostface:

This man is so jealous. He was a killer way before you did anything special! Technically he does serve The Entity, but not in the way you do. Danny probably thinks you’re not all that since he’s probably still mad as shit that you embarrassed him like that.

He hears some of the killers talk about you like you’re a nightmare come true. Of course Danny calls it all bullshit and says you’re probably not as ruthless as they say you are. Honestly he just isn’t ready to accept that fact that you have more power over him than he does, and he’s not very fond of the fact that he can’t be an asshole to you anymore.

Danny has never heard nor seen you give one of the killers a lesson, but he has been given shockingly precise details on just what you can do to them. He’s never heard of a survivor having this much power over the killers. Well I guess he couldn’t call you a survivor anymore now, could he? Nonetheless he seems to forget that there are consequences for his actions, especially after a trial he didn’t do so well in.

Danny hasn’t known fear until this day. He displeased The Entity, and now he pays the price. He can no longer see, but he can feel. He can feel the way you pry his mouth open and slowly cut his tongue open. He can feel just how strong your bond is with The Entity, how much you’ve changed. His throat burns from how much he’s been yelling in agony. He coughs up blood as it travels into his lungs, making it more difficult to breathe by the second. It was already worse having you kill him in a trial when you were a survivor, now this torture?

“I love that look of despair on your face.”

Frank Morrison/The Legion:

As if you couldn’t get any scarier to him, now you’re serving The Entity. He hasn’t talked to you ever since you last saw each other so he really has no idea of what you’re doing with The Entity until somebody goes up and straight up tells him.

From what he’s recently heard, you’re now going around teaching killers not to displease The Entity? Sounds odd that all of this is happening in such a short amount of time but it doesn’t make it any less scary for him. He hates being scared, but knowing that if he tries doing things his way will get him punished makes him kind of worried as he tends to go a bit overboard in some of his trials.

His friends are lucky enough to not experience the horror of being tortured into submission, but they have been told what it feels like. He tries his best to comfort Susie and tells her that as long as she does things the way The Entity wants, she will be okay. Needless to say The Legion is very scared of you. Please go easy on them they’re only teenagers (except for Frank of course)

It was bound to happen someday. Frank got too angry at those pesky survivors and wasn’t thinking straight. Not even in a trial, he managed to kill 2 of them. He would learn soon enough that killing isn’t allowed outside of trials. The rest of The Legion are huddled up in a corner. Susie is sobbing into Joey’s chest as he slowly rubs her back, trying his best not to look at what’s going on in front of him. Julie can’t seem to look away, pure shock seeming to be the thing holding her still. Frank feels like all of his bones are on the verge of shattering. How is he even alive at this point? His organs aren’t in place, scattered across the hard wood floor, leaving a sour smell behind. The only thing keeping him up at this point is the hook that is impaled straight through his shoulder. He wants so badly to just die, but The Entity is the only thing keeping him alive at this moment. No matter how much blood you spill, it’s not over until The Entity says it’s over.

“Oh Frank, you know this is far from over..”

#dbd #dbd x reader #michael myers #michael myers x reader #kazan yamaoka #kazan yamaoka x reader #ghostface x reader #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson #frank morrison x reader #frank morrison #tw gore #tw violence #tw blood #dead by daylight

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gentrychild · 2 years

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I'm curious how does the demon society work there (demon transfer au). Mostly because I don't understand what are the characteristics of any type of demon. I don't have a lot of experience with demon lore, and anime always make up what a demon is. Inko is a sloth demon? What does that mean on this au? And the others?

Love your works!

Demon society:

It's a "Law of the strongest" system and it's self-regulating in a strange way. If someone hurt you, there is no police you can go to. However, this can't get too out of control because 1. a demon being stronger than another demon is common but a demon being stronger than another demon's entire family and neighborhood is another story altogether. 2. Even if you're powerful, if you make too much noises, you must always account for the real possibility of a demon lord or (if you're really unlucky) an archdemon being "Really??? Right in front of my salad???" and reminding you about your place on the food chain.

So it's dangerous but technically, demons are more worried about the local fauna and flora than the other demons.

It wasn't always the case. All for One's and First's generation lived in Hell in every sense of the word.

However, there is a couple of rules that will be enforced with extreme prejudice.

Don't mess with kids. Bad things happen to a society that stop protecting its kids. And if a kid messed with your kid, handle it like an adult... by taking it out on the kid' parents.

A demon is not allowed to collect souls unless they have explicit permission to do so. (Think of it as the most informal license in the known universe.)

There are others but this one is both a recent addition (barely two centuries old) and it's absolutely unbreakable. Well, technically, you can break it but be prepared to have the entire population setting out to break every bone in your body if you play cute with that one.

Description:

Every demon have wings, fangs, sharp nails and glowing eyes. Some also have horns and/tail. Other don't look human at all.

Different types of demons:

There are two ways to become a demon: you can be born from at least one demon parent in the demon realm or you can be a human who found their way to the demon realm and was transformed by it. We are in full right of soil situation. A child born from a demon in the human world will not be a demon. They might have wings or other demon characteristics but they need to breathe the air and eat the food of the demon world to be a demon.

Now, unto the real classification. Every demon is aligned with one of the seven deadly sins. It doesn't mean that a demon can't be, let's say, both prideful and greedy (cough... AFO... cough...) but there is this one sin that will kinda shape the way they see the world.

People aligned with pride are proud but also perfectionists who want to be seen as good.

People aligned with wrath tend to be hot-blooded but they also get things done.

People aligned with sloth, like Inko, are indolent but they have a very low tolerance for crap such as manipulation or gaslight. They are level-headed.

A demon is at their strongest when they are attuned to their sin and the more they understand their sin, the stronger they become. (Think "Remember your origins.")

Demons and the human world:

There are three ways for a demon to get stronger and two of them are easier to access in the human world.

Creating strong emotions. (Technically, just being around strong emotions is also a way for a demon to feed but it's not very efficient.) Since it's far easier and more fun to create negative emotions, you can guess why pain and suffering is usually the first pick of any self-respecting demon.

Making contracts. To create a contract, you need something the contractor really desires (you can't make a contract and just buy them a meal or something innocuous like that) and you need a price. Except that what demons never tell you is that pretty much none of them is interested by the price stated in the contract. The Real Price is the incredibly strong emotional energy born from desire and despair that the contractor gives them when the contract is fulfilled.

Those two methods can be used in the demon world but 1. if you create "strong emotions" the usual way, someone will punt you into the hell equivalent of the sun 2. no demon would accept to sign a contract unless they are incredibly desperate.

The other thing is that a demon cannot go to the human world unless they're an adult. It's not a law. It's just that kids aren't sturdy enough to go there on their own.

There is a reason why Izuku was (accidentally) summoned. If he goes back home, he has no way to return to the human realm on his own.

Because of that, it's practically a rite of passage for twenty-year-old demons to go to the human world and to cause mayhem.

Another other thing: demons are nerfed when they go to the human world. The power that stay with them are mainly the ones obtained through contracts.

How demons think:

Demons are not humans with wings and powers. They think differently. I follow the Mairimashita Iruma-kun rule of demons obeying to their desires and them having a lot of trouble motivating themselves for things that aren't fun or interesting in some way. Demons also tend to develop obsessions. There will be moments where despite all common sense, demons will keep doing things detrimental to them (or to the world) because they simply can't help it.

#demon transfer student au #long post #I have invested way too much brainpower and time into this AU

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yesimwriting · 3 years

Text

The Promise of Rain, blurb 2

The Promise of Rain (part 2?? technically)

A/n I was not originally planning a second part for this but some people wanted it and this idea came to me and it works better with the context of ‘The Promise of Rain’ but it can technically be read as a stand alone :))

Anyways this might turn into a small series of kinda connected blurbs that are all kind of canon with each other but aren’t necessarily connected except for the reader’s background (the reader is a very sunshine-y person and knows Kaz bc she’s a runaway princess that he was hired to bring back home but she managed to convince him to let her work for him instead)

The night air had left me with a chill that made me want nothing more than to have my covers draped over me as I read. I’m normally more sociable after a job, especially after such a simple and safe ending, but a lot of tonight had left me wanting to be alone.

Well, not truly alone. The company of my books is always welcomed, but tonight I can’t seem to find much comfort within the pages. After almost every paragraph, I find myself distracted by gusts of wind and thoughts of the heavy, silver clouds that seem to make up tonight. A part of me longs for the rain. I know it’s ridiculous to expect rain each time I desire some sense of comfort, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Especially when the sky so clearly implies it.

“This must be the fifth time I’ve come here and you’ve been reading.” Kaz’s sudden appearance is almost enough to shake away my lingering somberness.

I roll my eyes slightly, turning my attention back to the page in front of me. “That observation is just a testament to how often you come in here.”

His glare is half hearted, a look I’d find endearing if I was less annoyed. “Where else am I going to find a reminder that good people exist in Ketterdam?”

I think he may have a sixth sense that warns him when I’m treading the line between being annoyed and displeased. Everytime I find myself mad at him in a way that makes me want to avoid him instead of yell at him, Kaz makes some ridiculously heart-melting comment. He steps further into the room. I don’t miss the way he eyes my stretched out legs. Ever since the conversation we had after he woke up after an injury, we’ve fallen into the unmentioned habit of silently inviting the other to stay by moving to make room for them.

It had started the day after the conversation in which Kaz had admitted that he wanted me to stay with him. He had been sitting on the small couch while discussing the details of a job. Shortly after I walked in he made a point of shifting so that he was clearly on one side of the couch. I didn’t think much about sitting down, but Inej and Jesper exchanged a look.

Now, though, I keep my legs stretched out on the bed. He eyes my position on the bed, something grim crossing his features.

“It might rain tonight.”

He knows me so damn well. I hate it. “I hope so.”

I turn my head, analyzing the way the world seems to be on the cusp of something. I stare at the silver clouds until I feel something hard tap my leg. The tap is firm but not painful. I’m quick to look at Kaz as he lowers his cane. The mention of rain had been a distraction.

“You distracted me on purpose.”

“The first rule of the Barrel is to always be prepared.” There’s a slight uptilt to his lips, something I’ve learned to interpret as a sign of teasing.

How is he so easy to be around one second and so cold the next? I resist a smile. “I’ll take notes.”

Kaz ignores my passive aggressive tone. His focus seems to be on my legs that have still not moved to offer him a place next to me. “You wear your emotions too openly.” Great, he’s going to make us talk about it. “What reason could you possibly have to be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.” It’s a partial truth.

His expression harshens. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not thrilled with you, but I don’t think that’s the same as being mad.”

Kaz lets out a partial sigh. “No, they’re not the same.” Such an early concession feels like a trap. “With you, the first option is worse.” I don’t have anything to say to that. “Is this because of what I said to Jesper?”

My posture straightens on instinct. “He wants your validation more than he’d ever admit and I understand that expressing praise isn’t exactly something you do, but would it kill you to not actively insult him?”

“I didn’t say anything that was wrong. He thinks he’s a gambler but he’s just someone born for losses.” The look I give him must mean something to him, because Kaz is quick to tact on, “That doesn’t make him less valuable of an asset or less relatively dependable.”

I eye him cautiously, the slightest bit of vulnerability playing at his features. “Don’t look at me like that--and don’t tell me that. Jesper’s the one who could use the occasional reminder from you that you hold him to any regard with positive connotations.” His lips press together like he’s thinking about scolding me for scolding him. “It’s only because I know you care more about Jesper than you’d ever let on.”

“Jesper’s esteem can handle the blow.” The curtness of his voice is a blow in its own sense. “And he didn’t exactly deserve to be in my good graces after what he did tonight.”

My sigh is not weighted enough to match Kaz’s newfound fountain of emotion. “We were successful--”

“He left you.” I didn’t know Kaz’s voice was capable of such harshness. “I paired him with you, and he left you--and you almost didn’t make it.” I let the weight of his words take up all the available space in the room, keeping the silence that follows them until some of the heaviness has dissipated. “He could have cost me one of my best people.”

Oh. His harshness, his unwarranted coldness, had been a manifestation of his concern. For me. Guilt knots my stomach. Potential words that may offer Kaz some sort of support raise and die back down in my throat. Kaz turns towards the door.

“Kaz.” He pauses. There’s a long moment in which I think he won’t turn around, but finally, he does. I tuck my legs beneath me, forcing myself to sit up a little straighter. “I told Jesper to leave because I knew the job would have failed if he had been trapped in that room with me.” I drop my gaze towards the window. “I was right, the job was successful, and I got out in time so it was worth it.”

“You risked your safety?” The harsh facet of his being is making its return in full force.

“For the job,” I’m careful to keep my words factual, “It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Kaz’s jaw locks. “When I said that keeping you near me would ruin you this is what I meant.”

Is it really this big of a deal? I made it out. “Kaz.”

“This wasn’t my best idea.” His words are leached of anything. “You’re going back home. Tomorrow I’ll arrange the voyage myse--”

“Kaz Brekker you may get to live your life doing anything you want but you don’t get to control mine.” My chin raises an inch, an instinctual act of subtle rebellion. “I am not going back there, even if I’m technically indebted to you because you didn’t return me to my father but that does not mean I’ll--”

“I’m not trying to control you.” His words are sharp, boarding on a yell. “A job like that one wasn’t worth you.”

From Kaz, I know those words are heavy. There’s a lot of things I could say to that. I could tell him that I wanted to do something for him. I could say that I appreciate him telling me that. I could even say that in his own way, Kaz giving Jesper a hard time because he left me, is kind of cute in a misguided way. The thing is I think all of these responses will make things worse.

“Kaz,” I keep my voice as steady as possible, “I’m fine, you’re fine, it all worked out.” Scratching the back of my arm, I exhale gently. “I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.”

I watch him carefully, there’s a slight slump to his shoulders as he exhales. Is the fight leaving him so easily? He walks further into the room. “You better.” He sits down in the space I provided for him slowly. “If you’re not you’ll have worse things to worry about than anything that can happen to you on a job.” He moves his cane forward easily, tapping my knee in a swift motion.

I roll my eyes at the mock threat. “They do say that there’s nothing to fear in the Barrel like the Dirtyhands.”

“Remember that.” Any edge in his voice is forced. I fight against a smile that seems to always want to break across my face whenever I think I see something resembling lightness in Kaz.

“I don’t think I could forget anything about you.”

He turns his head slightly. “You should.”

“Too bad.”

Kaz leans his back against the wall, untensing slightly. “I think you just like disagreeing with me.”

There’s no point in lying about it. “Only because when you argue with me you give me this really particular look.”

“A look?”

Adding insult to injury, I smile. “Sometimes you look like you’re too focused on being angry, like you’re compensating for something.”

Kaz lets out a bitter sigh. “Maybe if you were less of a puppy I wouldn’t have to--”

The laugh that escapes is most definitely a mistake. “Did you just call me a puppy?” I don’t give him a chance to reply, laughter taking over again. “I mean this in the least argumentative way possible--but you’re so weird sometimes.”

He rolls his eyes, tensing. “I’m leaving.”

I stifle the rest of my laughter. “No. I was--I was kidding!” I keep my eyes on Kaz, expecting some type of annoyed glare, but his expression is a lot more weighted than that. Odd. “Kaz?”

“You need to be more careful.” I understand Kaz’s pause as something he does before saying something outside of his nature. “I’m not asking you this as a Crow or a Dreg.”

On instinct, my posture straightens. “I promised and I meant it.”

“Sometimes I wish I could believe in Saints,” his voice has taken off a distant quality, almost fragile, “That way I could believe something existed to help what matters.”

Oh. “You never fail, even if I didn’t believe in Saints I’d believe in you.”

“You’re wasting your faith.” The sound of lightning cracking is almost enough to make me jump. The rain finally came.

I know I’ll never convince him that that’s not true. “I don’t think so, but that’s why it’s called faith.”

“I have faith in some things.” His expression is far off.

“Like what?”

Kaz’s eyes find the window. “People that find meaning in the rain.”

Something in my chest swells. “You’re like the rain.”

We sit there in silence, watching raindrops glide down the window. “What were you reading?”

The question has me dropping my gaze to the forgotten book on my lap. “I stole this book from the palace before I left. It was my mom’s favorite, she’s read it so much the spine’s completely cracked and the cover is practically falling off.”

“Hm…” He mumbles. “Read some, the books read in a palace must be worthwhile.”

A part of me wants to tell him that elitism has no place in literature, but his request leaves me frozen. I nod once, turning to the first page of the book. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife--”

“Your upbringing makes sense--”

“You can’t judge it off the first sentence,” he’s insufferable, “It’s setting up irony, and if you’re going to complain--”

He lets out a conceding sigh. “I’m listening, I’m not interrupting.”

I keep my eyes on him for a second longer than I should. “Okay.” Dropping my gaze back to the book, I adjust my grip on the worn paperback, “Good.”

And then I keep reading.

@theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag

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nejibaby · 3 years

Text

Deja Vu

Pairing: Neji x Fem!Uchiha Reader

Summary: Hyuga Hiashi does not approve of your relationship with Neji.

implied established relationship. implied that neji has plans marrying.

Word Count: 2.8k

Memories - Part 1 | Deja Vu - Part 2

A/N: gotta say it started out cute but then bam angst sjdjdens i’m sorry i’m dramatic sumtyms 🤧 please let me know your thoughts 🥺

The Sharingan never forgets.

That’s among one of the few things that’s drilled into your mind as a child born in the Uchiha clan. Before you had even awakened your Sharingan, your late brother, Shishui, had already taught you this.

At a young age, you’ve always thought it was a blessing, especially to a shinobi like you. With the ability of the Sharingan to discern movements and to retain its information better than any other dojutsu, it enables you to progress faster than children your age.

Outside the shinobi life, however, it’s not really that useful, so it’s expected for you not to activate it at all. You don’t need to remember minor details of everyday life after all. But on some of your days off — on special days — although very rarely, you unconsciously activate your Sharingan when you’re with Neji.

It goes without saying that before the war, you’ve already gained quite a bit of control over the use of the Sharingan. You’re able to activate and deactivate it at will, although sometimes your emotions get the better of you and it messes your control. After the war, however, you’ve become adept at controlling both your emotions and your Sharingan, maybe even better than Sasuke.

But whenever Neji surprises you with affectionate gestures, you get so overwhelmed that you just can't control your body, and by extension, your dojutsu too.

No matter how hard you try, you’re unable to stop the blood rushing to your face. You’re unable to calm the violent thumping of your heart. You’re unable to get rid of the fluttering feeling in your stomach. You’re unable to prevent the Sharingan from activating. Especially on the rare occasions that he kisses the back of your hand tenderly after he walks you home, or when he kisses your lips before he leaves for a mission.

Neji isn’t good at romantic gestures, and so he keeps it to a bare minimum. But when he does these things, it always takes you by surprise.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he likes your cute reactions to his unpredictable acts. There’s always this short moment where your mind goes blank and your Sharingan manifests itself. This reassures him of your feelings for him because he knows he’s the only one who’ll be able to pull such a reaction from you. Not that he’s ever doubted you. You’ve always been so vocal about your feelings for him, after all.

On the flip side, while it embarrasses you that you can’t control your Sharingan when you’re with Neji, you like the way they activate themselves at those moments, as they’re able to help you remember the details of its aftermath — like the way Neji would always look down on the floor first before he meets your eyes, his cheeks tinted pink, and with the slightest upturn of his lips, almost as if he, himself, wasn’t expecting the onslaught of emotions that was brought about by his own actions. In mere seconds, you have all these memorized before he pulls away, and you play it over and over again in your mind until you’re branded with a new memory.

But the Sharingan is a curse as much as it is a blessing.

It’s a curse because it reminds you of the cruelty of the world. It doesn’t allow you to forget the scene of the Uchiha clan district after the massacre, even after knowing the true reason why it had to be done. It lets you remember the way you almost lost Neji from the Ten Tails’ attack during the war in his attempt to protect Naruto and Hinata.

And when Sasuke implanted Shisui’s eye to you, which he retrieved from Danzo before he annihilated him, the Sharingan lets you relive all his memories and experiences, and it paints you a picture of how unfair the world actually is, even more so to an Uchiha like you.

The unfair reality is further proven by an unexpected knock on your door a couple of weeks ago.

Hiashi. Hyuga Hiashi. The head of the Hyuga clan. Neji’s uncle.

He came to you with a deal, a proposition of sorts, but really it was just a threat in disguise as an offer.

“Leave Neji or else I’ll make sure he won’t be able to break free from his cage” is what he basically implied.

But to be precise, his words were, “The Hyuga clan is considering Neji to be the next heir, which would result in abolition of the main and branch family system altogether. Naturally, if he becomes the head of the clan, his curse seal will be removed, along with all the other branch family members’. However, there’s no telling if there’s going to be a change if he doesn’t get the position.

“You might have been keeping your relationship with him on the down-low, but the elders of the Hyuga clan know of it.

“To put it bluntly, we do not wish to be associated with the Uchiha in any way — so much that even disowning Neji has been put out there as an option, just in case — especially after what Sasuke pulled off after defeating the goddess.

“Moreover, if you were to bear a child together, there’s no telling what will happen to their kekkei genkai. It would be ideal to have him marry into the clan and follow tradition in order to preserve the Byakugan.

“I suppose you know where I’m going with this. It would be in his best interest if you call off whatever you have with him. Although this wouldn’t be a deal if there is nothing in it for you, right? Supposing Neji’s bright future is not enough for you, we are willing to arrange allowances of sorts.”

But before he could spout anything more, you cut him off by asking, “Does he know about this?”

“Not yet. But we’ll let him know soon enough.”

“Don’t. Keep it that way. I’ll handle this,” you told him, not caring if you didn’t sound respectful to a prominent figure such as himself. “I don’t need anything from your clan. All I want and need is for Neji to live a life that he deserves; a life that he was robbed off.”

Hiashi glared at you, offended by your words, but he didn't comment on it. Rather, he stared you down. His hardened expression morphing into suspicion the longer he looked at you; clearly he didn’t trust you. “How will you handle it?”

The only response he got from you is an intense stare with your Sharingan, and that alone was enough for him.

It’s frustrating to not have a choice, even when it comes to love, but in hindsight, you should’ve expected this. For all the troubles your ancestors caused in the past, it’s only natural for you to be this unfortunate.

Whatever blessing the Uchihas receive, it’s always paired with some type of misery. That’s just how it is, that’s how it would probably always be.

There’s no denying that in the end, it always, always hurts. But then again, you’re no stranger to pain and loss. And so is Neji. So surely, this would be for the best, at least that’s what you tell yourself over and over again in hopes that it will strengthen your resolve.

After all, Neji deserves a life where he doesn’t have to fear dying by the hands of the main branch family. He deserves a life where he can make choices of his own, without being tied down by his curse seal or his clan in general. And if leaving him means he’ll have all this and more, so be it.

As much as it is painful, it is hard, partly because of your waning resolve but especially because it’s Neji, who’s known for being an awfully perceptive shinobi. He’s almost never caught off guard, all the more when he’s with you, as he’s always keen on keeping you safe. Hence, you have to be meticulous and methodical.

The Sharingan’s ability to cast genjutsu is particularly harder to use against Hyugas due to their ability to see and sense the chakra concentrating by the eyes, enabling them to counter or avoid it entirely. Shisui’s Kotoamatsukami technique would’ve been quite useful, except you’re unable to use it yet because of the events prior to the war. Thus, you’ll have to rely on your own skills.

If timed right and casted properly, the genjutsu of the Sharingan has the ability to remove memories. To be precise, it can trick his mind into “forgetting” memories. But with years and years of memories between you and Neji, you know that you’ll have to cast it over and over again before everything will be completely wiped out.

You take advantage of the moments where Neji gives you affection, as you deem it the most subtle way to cast genjutsu on him without suspicion.

Although you have to admit, in the beginning you’ve been selfish, only removing memories of you and him that weren’t important — like the times he would accompany you in doing mundane tasks, or the times you both just lounge around after tiring missions. And because those are only minor memories, Neji is oblivious to the loss.

It gets exceptionally harder to cast the genjutsu once you’ve started erasing the major events in your relationship — the first date, the first kiss, the first time he held your hand, and the first time he introduced you as the love of his life. Until eventually, the affectionate acts dwindle down, and the only way you can use the Sharingan around him is when you ask him to train with you.

It’s only natural that the longer this goes on, the further you drift apart, and the more you lose him.

And it’s scary and painful because unlike Sasuke, Konoha has always been your home, but more specifically because of Neji. In fact, you can argue that Neji has always felt like home more than the village itself. You can walk the streets of Konoha but all it will ever scream is Neji’s name, and all it will ever show you is the memories you shared with him on every corner of the place.

The fact that you have to walk the streets without him is terrifying and foreign, and the only way you can avoid it altogether is by taking more and more missions, either the ones involving far away places or high rank missions that require every single bit of your concentration. Sometimes you even tag along to Sasuke’s expeditions to escape not only Neji’s overwhelming presence in the village, but also the thoughts of him.

It’s tiring and it’s heavy. But you’ve accepted the fact that you’re going to carry alone the memories for the two of you.

But this doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends, though they were quick to assume that things just didn’t work out between the two of you, and that you called your relationship off.

Ino is the first person to voice out her concern and her curiosity as she claimed it’s weird not seeing you hang out with Neji anymore.

“That’s just how it is, I suppose,” you shrug, trying to act nonchalant about everything despite the ache in your chest and the slight quiver of your voice.

She doesn’t comment further, thinking you probably didn’t want to talk about it.

But one day, when the whole clique — except for you and Sasuke — was hanging out, Ino can tell there was something wrong when Sakura asked if Neji remembered the time when you almost fell off a tree but he was there to catch you, and he furrowed his brows, saying he doesn’t recall that at all.

Break up or not, it’s highly unlikely for Neji to forget. Regardless of how minor something is, he always seems to remember them, especially when it involves you. And while he could’ve just been deflecting, there would’ve been no point in him denying that he remembers that occasion. Besides, Neji is blatantly honest, it’s one thing that you can count on when it comes to him, so really, how come he couldn’t remember that scenario at all?

This prompted Ino to observe Neji further out of concern and suspicion. She’d often find herself casually mentioning you and the feats you’ve both been through, but time and time again, Neji would tell her he has no recollection of those.

Ino wants to do something, anything really, just to clear her mind of suspicions, but she’s afraid she’s overstepping and interfering.

Neji takes notice of this. But even before that, he feels as though there’s something wrong, like something’s missing, but he doesn’t know what it is, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

After all, genjutsu might’ve tricked his mind, but his heart is an entirely different case.

It comes as a surprise to Ino when Neji comes to visit her in Yamanaka’s flower shop, looking at your favorite flowers without a clue why.

With Ino being the only one who seems to be willing to talk about you with him, it’s her who he seeks out. That, and he thinks the Yamanaka’s mind jutsus could be of help.

Ino doesn’t hesitate to help after Neji asks for it. When she goes to explore Neji’s consciousness, the first thing that she senses is your chakra. The further she prods, the more she realizes that it’s you who have been tampering with his memories. Then she realizes that it’s genjutsu that you’ve used on him, and she quickly breaks him out of it.

You know instantly when the jutsu breaks, feeling as if there was a string that snapped, and it immediately renders you frozen.

Fear grips you as you think about how Neji would feel after his memories come back. Will he be able to tell it was you who did it? Will he be mad at you? Will you tell him the reason why you did it? Will he even listen?

But if he’d stop talking to you altogether… then that would still be a win, right? Because that’s what Hiashi wants, that’s what his clan wants. That’s the only condition for them to give back Neji’s freedom.

But is it worth it?

Is this what you want?

Is this what Neji would want?

You’d like to believe so. And that’s the last thought you have as the rogue shinobi you’re supposed to capture stabs a kunai deep into your gut.

Of all the times the genjutsu could have broken, it just had to be when you were facing a highly skilled ninja. It’s once again a reminder that life is unfair, but this time, it’s your choices that lead you to this.

Deja vu. That’s how you feel when you wake up after escaping death’s clutches once again.

You blink once, twice, and then you look around your surroundings. You’re back in Konoha’s hospital, but this time you don’t wake up to a sleeping Neji by your bed.

You’re alone, and you feel hollow.

But then the door to your room opens abruptly and you almost jump in surprise.

Your breath hitches as you find the familiar lavender eyes staring back at you.

He calls your name to you softly, as if in a trance, and you feel your heart stutter at how perfect your name sounds on his lips.

Before you know it, he’s by your side, gently holding your hands. With an untrained eye, it would seem that his face is void of any emotion, but from your years of experience with him, you can clearly point out the sadness in his eyes.

You break the silence by saying, “I’m sorry, Neji.”

“For what exactly?”

You look away in shame. “For trying to erase your memories of us.”

“Why’d you do it then?”

“Because…” you bite your lip. “That’s what’s best for you,” your voice cracks. “I’m not… We couldn’t— no — we shouldn’t be together.”

Neji gathers his thoughts, and it takes a couple of minutes before he speaks up. “The Sharingan may not be able to forget, but the Byakugan sees everything.”

And you understand what he’s trying to say: he can see through the lies you feed yourself.

Neji sighs, and it gets your attention. You peek at him, and only then have you noticed the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders are slightly slumped.

He has always looked composed no matter the situation, but now he’s different.

“You used to tell me everything,” he says dejectedly.

The way he says it and the way he pleads with his eyes breaks something in you and you spill everything to him.

You’re crying and stuttering and you aren’t sure if you’re making sense. But Neji always, always understands you.

And by the end of your piece, you’re wrapped securely in his arms.

“You’re alright,” he comforts you. “We’re alright.”

“But Hiashi—”

“We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

here’s some really good ideas sent on anon for part 3!

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beelspillowpet · 3 years

Text

A Lesson in Love - A “Character Analysis” on Asmodeus

I had to come for the tracks, wigs, and weaves of bitches when Pomade dropped because I saw people talking shit about my boy. This was a milestone “project” or “reward” I guess?

I hit 400 followers today while I was out running errands!!! Thank you guys SO SO MUCH for the love and support! I can’t WAIT to produce more content for everyone!!!

Below the cut there WILL BE talk of season 3, as well as some talk of chapter 16. There’s a healthy amount of theorizing on his personality as well, I hope you don’t mind! This came out more like a plea to get people to change their minds about how Asmo really is, rather than a comprehensive essay of sorts. So here we go!

There’s something we apparently still need to talk about in this fanbase. The unrealistic idea of Asmodeus being a sex freak, and an unreliable person in general despite there being little proof of it. We need to set a few things straight about Asmo moving forward.

December 25th rolled around and Asmo’s audio drama and song were released. I take it everyone enjoyed both parts, as well as I did. My timeline both on twitter and tumblr were filled with Asmodeus content, as well as the other brothers and such. But I mostly got Asmo content. However, in peeks and cracks, if I looked hard enough, I still saw people who absolutely loathed Asmo or who were indifferent to him. Keep in mind; I think it’s okay. You don’t have to like everyone.

I’ve only joined the fanbase in September, but even I could tell some of these takes were old fashioned. I downloaded the game on October 17th, a very important anniversary for me, while I

was still in bed in the morning. I blazed through the entire story of season 1 and now I am stuck in season 2, specifically in Chapter 24. I obviously don’t have every card of Asmodeus with his Devilgrams, but I have been analyzing his character over the past few days for this.

So needless to say, I have a considerable amount of information on him, as well as personal thoughts that may help some learn to love him. Or at the very least, from spreading a negative idea of him around as if it were true. Enough that should help clear his name, so to speak.

Let’s look at his title; Avatar of Lust. Now naturally the thoughts that come to your head are sex and other sexual bits. So I can understand how some people would come to the conclusion that he’s just a sex freak. But if you look under the surface of his title, like I’m sure you’ve had to for your own personal favorites (*cough* Lucifer, Belphie, and Satan ESPECIALLY) you would discover that Asmodeus is more than just about sex. In fact, sex takes up very little of his pass time, if you were to believe it!

In recent chapters, as I’ve been told, Asmodeus doesn’t really get around much anyways:

Granted, this was said while in Celestia, but I imagine not much has changed for him since his fall, as well as his brothers.

Not really comfortable being with just anyone, huh…? Sounds like someone who doesn’t have sex so warily often as you’d think!

Being lustful can come in many shapes and forms. It can be merely in appearance, which Asmo is not afraid of doing. He’s very comfortable about skinship and it’s very apparent in how he dresses and acts that he wants you to adore his body. To worship it! Maybe not sexually, but aesthetically! Being lustful can mean just thinking about sex or sexual scenarios often, which if you take a peek at Asmo’s chat’s either with you or his brothers, is very apparent too.

Personally, I believe that people would assume he is not good in a relationship because he would have a “cheating problem”. I don’t think Asmo is a monster, just like I don’t think any of the brothers are monsters. They may be demons (technically fallen angels) now but they used to be angels too. Their falling out with their Father doesn’t mean they’ve completely abandoned morality, it was a rebellion for Lilith’s right to live. Not for them to sin as they pleased. For all we know they might have been fine in Heaven otherwise! (with the exception of Lucifer.)

A monster knows right from wrong and chooses evil anyways. An ignorant person doesn’t know right from wrong. Asmodeus is not a monster, nor is he ignorant.

When Asmo genuinely loves you, I think he would take steps to calm down that side of him, if it were to exist. Lust is fairly limited, but it is a part of love to some extent. LOVE is vastly different. Love has many languages, and they aren’t all spoken either. For me, personally, I found that Lucifer’s love language can be either very direct, or roundabout so as to not let it go to your head, for an example. Asmo is just far more direct about his care for you.

I feel as though Asmo gets a lot of crap constantly for his presumed nature and because we don’t get to see much else of him at first, especially in season 1, his impression on us sort of stays. With most of the fanbase either somewhat new to the game or somewhere lost in the sea of the difficulty curve that is season 2, we can only assume based on what we’ve seen, and what others have headcanoned about him.

Let’s break and talk about Satan for a moment; this is going somewhere.

I’m led to believe that Satan can control his sin fairly well. He’s easy to get irritated, sure, but he isn’t as much of a walking ball of rage as I suspected. I would argue that, aside from Leviathan, Satan can handle his sin the best out of the brothers. But again, we’re forgetting about Asmo. The Avatar of “Lust”. Like I’ve shown before, he doesn’t really sleep around a lot, according to anon.

At worst, Asmo being flirty is through text and he’s not actively trying to sleep with you. It can be interpreted that way, but for me personally, it comes down to having a friend that is very up close and in your personal space.

(I myself am one of these types of people. Having ADHD, my social cues are always sort of off, and I’ve struggled with coping with it for years. With my best friend, we have seen each other naked countless times and have slept in the same bed as well. We were never romantic with each other. We were just very comfortable being close and personal with each other.)

I’d like to point out also that Asmo isn’t even there for most of season 1 too. Which can give you the idea that maybe he just was out sleeping around a lot, but to me he probably just went out partying a lot. You don’t get known that fast for sleeping around. Maybe in 5,000 years, sure, but I’d imagine being a party boy, as his Devilgram “Guided by Desire” suggests.

So the idea that Asmo isn’t in the house a lot because he’s out having sex all the time isn’t true is it? He’s probably just out partying, which can LEAD to sex with someone sure, but again, Asmo doesn’t feel comfortable doing that, now does he?

I feel like of all the boys, Asmo is the one who radiates with everyone else the most. Most people will never realize how surreal it is that Asmo is faking it until he makes it. He doesn’t always think he’s beautiful, or that he’s worth all the love he’s striving and straining to get. Something that is extremely relatable for a lot of people with self-worth issues. Asmo is just like that, but instead being sarcastic and self-deprecating, he simply works to make himself look as beautiful as possible, so that in his eyes, his beauty matches the affection he gets.

Which is why, when he falls in love with you, it’s strange. You are constantly telling him he’s nice and pretty, but you aren’t lusting after him. You’re just being nice. It may just be me, but when people are overly nice just for the sake of being nice, I’m very attracted to that. That is Asmo, to some extent. The fact that he reflects the insecurities and habits of others so clearly may make others uncomfortable, but that brutal honesty veiled behind insecurity is what a lot of people with self-image issues deal with.

Now for me to share my favorite personal idea for Asmo that completely changed how I saw him in season 1 onwards; Asmodeus is an empath. Now let me explain:

First, what is an Empath?

The term empath comes from empathy, which is the ability to understand the experiences and feelings of others outside of your own perspective. Seems simple, right? Everyone can do this to some extent. However, what makes you an empath is the fact that empaths genuinely feel the same pain as you do. So much so your experience becomes a very personal part of their own. They are capable of being able to feel other people’s emotions without them speaking, or even showing signs of it through their body language.

This would explain, for me personally, why there’s so little of him in season 1. The intensity of what goes on in the house, his sensitive soft-spoken mannerisms, the only time he truly gets mad is when he’s childishly arguing with Mammon? Asmo is afraid of true conflict, he’s afraid of violence and negative emotions. Let’s face it; everyone is indifferent or hates you at the start of the game.

While this changes fairly quickly, all the intense feelings come to a head in chapter 16. All those negative emotions swirling around, of course Asmo isn’t going to want to be in the house when it’s that intense. The attic didn’t just disappear completely, too. Belphie was still in the attic hating humans. That negative emotion could be affecting Asmo and he didn’t know why, so he could have been out of the house more.

Where Asmo can feel the emotions of others, it may mostly be the negative ones because they fill him with anxiety and panic if it persists. Which can be helpful in making him so urgent to want to make others smile and feel better, right?

Imagine being intimate with Asmodeus, and suddenly you aren’t in the mood for it anymore but don’t want to make things awkward. He could pick up on it in an instant and wouldn’t get mad because he understands how you feel completely.

Now to close this out about something that genuinely hurts me; Asmodeus is a narcissist.

I mean, the wiki says that he is, but personally? No, no he isn’t. Since when is loving yourself a bad thing? Sure he may go a bit far sometimes, but people with self-image issues need to go a little harder than the rest to make sure they're getting the love they need.

(Talking about myself AGAIN, but I do this a lot. At random, I will look up in my own mirror in front of my desk that I sit in front of all day and tell myself I am a cute bitch. I am VERY VERY cute and anyone would be lucky to have someone as drop dead gorgeous as myself. I say that a few times a day. In reality, I am very insecure about my looks. I do believe I’m cute, but sometimes it’s hard to say it. Which is why I force myself. Why wouldn’t Asmo do the same?)

Talking yourself up to be as beautiful as a sex god is no easy task, but Asmo isn’t the Avatar of “Lust” for no reason. When an insecure girl talks up her beauty, it’s her being strong and independent. When Asmo does it, its narcissism… it doesn’t really seem fair, now does it? Maybe he’s just an insecure person who needs to tell himself ALL THE TIME that he’s beautiful. That if he stares at his reflection long enough, he may see it too.

(Also, Simeon literally calls him out on being insecure. Insecure people tend to try and overcompensate where they feel they’re lacking.)

”Asmodeus is hinted to be insecure and seeking for love and attention. When Simeon was asked about what he thought of Asmodeus, he says that Asmodeus is still trying to fulfill the role of the angel he used to be; an angel that was adored and loved by many. Asmodeus laughs at Simeon's remark and brushes it off by saying that he is only jealous.” - A section from said Asmodeus Wiki.

People can choose to love or hate Asmo, obviously. Making things up about his character without having anything but speculation and having that dictate how he acts is plain silly. This entire “essay” if you can call it that, comes from the heart. I love Asmo as a character, and in the beginning he did make me uncomfortable, I didn’t like him that much. But I learned to look past that and figure out why he acts the way he does. Something didn’t sit right with me about him for a while, and it was that air of insecurity that I didn’t see at first.

All I can really ask for, is giving Asmo another chance as a character. He’s not as wild and wacky as Mammon, or as cool and sexy as Lucifer, or as edgy and precious as Belphie, but he matters in this story too. He fell from grace with his brothers for Lilith. Give him another chance, and let him show you that he is the Avatar of Love.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #om!#om! swd #om! asmo #om! asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #Thanks for 400 followers!

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loudstan · 3 years

Text

Epiphany (Pt. 10)

A collection of NCT werewolf AU stories.

Doyoung (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt. 3) (pt. 4) (pt. 5) (pt. 6) (pt. 7) (pt. 8) (pt. 9) (pt. 10)

Summary: The wolf population kept decreasing and those who were left had a hard time trying to fit into society. Sure, people didn’t consider them as dangerous as vampires, but wolves could still sense some hostility every time they did as much as go for a walk in a public place. Thanks to wolves’ natural magical abilities, NCT (one of the remaining packs) found a safe place among witches in a town where no one knew their secret, allowing some members to finally get a job, study and interact with others without fear of being rejected.

Life seems to finally be peaceful for them… except that wolves have needs, and one of those needs is finding their mate.

Pairing: Werewolf! Doyoung x Witch! female reader

Warnings: future smut

“I’ll spend my heat right here, looking at you, smelling how wet you are and pretending I can’t hear you touching yourself at night but, like I said, I won’t lay a single finger on you.”

He can’t be serious. There is no way he’s being serious.

“Oh, I’m very serious,” he said.

“Oh my god. So now you can also read my mind just because I’m your mate?!”

He looked like he was trying to repress a smile.

“Actually, you said that out loud. As strong as our connection is, I cannot read your mind,” he licked his lips and stared at the floor. “But I like how you called yourself my mate.”

You blushed furiously at this.

“I mean- that’s what you said I was.”

“Because you are.”

“… I guess, in theory I could be something like…”

“My mate,” he finished your sentence with a teasing tone and right when you were about to scoff at his comment he flinched and groaned in pain.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, standing up to make space for him on the couch. He lied down slowly and used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his face.

“Shit,it’s gonna be harder than I thought,” he muttered.

“Then maybe...don’t do this?”

“I gotta- ugh,” with a groan he squeezed his eyes shut. “I-I have to do this.”

“What the f-WHY?!”

“I have to s-show you I can control my wolf. Only then you’ll-oh god you smell so good,” he clenched his fists tight and took a deep breath. “Only then you’ll believe my feelings are real.”

You scoffed. He clearly couldn’t even think straight anymore.

“How is that fair?” you asked, “Now that you marked me I have no choice but to like you back! This will be frustrating for both of us.”

“Drink the potion,” he muttered.

“What?” so he didn’t want the potion for himself, but was suggesting that you drank it?

“If you drink it, you’ll get rid of this bond and won’t feel anything. I’ll be the only one feeling like shit. Does that sound better?”

You narrowed your eyes but said nothing. It was tempting to drink the potion by yourself, considering this was all his fault.

“You are still in time to kick me out of here. I’ll get a cab or something,” he whispered. You could barely hear him, as his voice was way too weak.

You didn’t have it in you to kick him out like this. What if he collapsed on the way home? What if something really serious happened to him? What if he found some other woman to take care of him during his heat?

You pushed that thought away immediately. You surely did NOT care if he fucked somebody else. BUT you wanted to believe you were a decent person who could let him sleep on your couch.

“What is the point of you proving yourself if I drink the potion?” you asked, wanting to understand how his mind worked. “You’d be in pain for days and gain nothing at all because I wouldn’t have feelings for you!”

“You wouldn’t have unwanted feelings for me because there would be no bond forcing you to,” he barely whispered. “Then, after my heat is over, you can decide if you want to give me a chance.”

“...You’re crazy,” you said in disbelief, but he didn’t reply. “Doyoung?”

Still, not a single sound came from him. Alarmed, you placed your hand on his forehead to see how his fever was going.

What you weren’t expecting was the loud moan that left his mouth as he lifted his hips into the air. Immediately, he pushed your hand away and stood up, running to the bathroom and locking the door.

You stood there in shock for what seemed like an entire minute until you heard his muffled groans coming from the bathroom. You walked in that direction like you were possessed and knocked on the door twice, only getting a weak moan in response.

“Doyoung? D-did I hurt you?” you asked in spite of that voice in your head telling you that those sounds were a clear sign of pleasure.

“I’m fin-Oh! Uhng fuck, just- just give me a m-minute mkay?” he replied panting heavily. “Y-you may want to-,” another loud moan, “Ah shit… you may want to stay a-away for now.”

You didn’t move. Your feet felt glued to the floor and your heart beat faster as you recognised a constant, wet sound. You were sure he was touching himself. Without even thinking about it, your hand twisted the handle and tried to open the door between you, which only frustrated you when you remembered it was locked. On the other side, Doyoung had gasped and halted his movements.

“Y/n! What do you think you’re doing?”

“I just- this stupid door,” you replied stubbornly. You didn’t even know why you wanted to open it, but your hands kept pushing the hard material in a vain attempt to get through.

“Shit- y/n you really shouldn’t,” his panicked voice made you want to comfort him. If only you were in there with him.

“Can you open the door for me?” you asked, you hardly recognised your own voice; it sounded hoarse and lazy, like you had just woken up.

“Oh fuck… Y/n, I want to, I r-really do but-” you heard him turn on the water and a mumbling sound due to him splashing water on his face to collect himself before continuing, “I can’t. You don’t want me… it’s just the bond.”

“But,” you pouted, pressing yourself against the door. You just really wanted him right now, whether it was a stupid bond or not, “It would feel so good.”

You heard him groan and the wet rubbing sound came back faster than before.

“Please,” you insisted, discovering the effect your words had on him, “please sir, let me make you feel good.”

“Fuck! A-ah! Nnnn!”

You heard him coming closer to the door and the handle moved a little and you licked your lips in anticipation, but it never opened.

“Y/n… drink the potion.”

“Wha- now?!” you had been so close! He almost opened the door. Why was he talking about that potion now?

“Yes, now. Before we do something you’ll regret.”

“I-,” you swallowed hard, “I promise I’ll drink it later, but can we-?”

“ Y/n, if I open that door now I won’t stop. It’s better you have a clear mind before making any decision. Drink the potion.”

You whined and tried to open the door once again, pressing your thighs together to get any type of friction at this point. Maybe he needed some more convincing.

“Doyoung-”

“NOW,” he growled. He sounded so intimidating, your legs felt weak and you fell on the ground, your eyes wide and paralyzed in fear. You could still feel the vibrations of his voice on your body when you stood up with difficulty, going for the little jar of potion forgotten in the living room.

You looked at the sparkling dark liquid and took a deep breath in. Now that you were right next to Doyoung you could think more clearly. You cringed as the words you had just said to him came back to your head. Did you really find him that attractive or was it just the bond?

Maybe he was right. You were the one who wanted to drink it since the beginning anyways, so why not do it now? That way his heat would have no effect on you and your life would be normal again.

You drank it and immediately felt nauseous at the bitter flavor. Suddenly a burning sensation crawled up your chest and everything around you was blurry. You dropped the jar and it broke into a million pieces as you grabbed onto the couch to avoid falling until you were stable again.

Once everything stopped moving and you calmed down a bit, you looked up and the first thing you saw was Doyoung, standing outside the bathroom. He looked heartbroken with the way the tears slid down his face, but he still managed to smile.

“That was the right choice, y/n. Now things will be way easier for you.”

Or so you both thought.

#doyoung #doyoung smut #kim doyoung #nct doyoung #nct drabbles #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct smut

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cornacopicimagines · 4 years

Text

after hours│t.h

pairing: professor!tom holland x reader

words: 6.9k (hehe nice)

warnings: swearing, PURE FILTH, sir kink, rough sex, masturbation (male & female), exhibition kink if you squint, spanking & sort of public sex.

summary: It's wrong, y/n tells herself. She can't help it though. She can't help fantasising about him. At the other end of the class, Tom tells himself to stop staring at her. It's creepy, he thinks. Neither one knows of the mutual pining that is until tension bubbles over.

a/n: I’m back bitches! I'm still a fucking sinner and this is such a cliche, I'm so so sorry

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n sat at the desk. Her eyes never left Mr. Holland. Her attention never left the way the veins in his arms bulged when he picked up the massive textbook, never left his perfectly gelled hair and how it sat atop his head like it was crafted to from the day he was born. Perhaps I should start typing the notes that were on the board, she scowled to herself.

She feels dirty, almost ashamed of her crush on him. She hates herself for falling into a stupid cliché that had been so easy to avoid all these tireless years. y/n doesn't know why she has gone back to a love-sick teenage girl fantasising about a boy who she'll never even get to touch. A boy that so out of her league, he wouldn't even had the faintest idea that she exists. That doesn't stop them though. y/n still finger fucks herself to an orgasm that no boy has been able to give her in her 24 years of life, all the while wishing it was his cock instead of her fingers. If Mr. Holland knew what she did to herself under the influence of him and his stupidly handsome face, he would be disgusted. This she knows for a fact.

This isn't what she thought she would be doing, in all honesty. She is a semester away from graduating and she never wanted to be stuck in a perpetual state of wanting someone so unattainable it's not uneasy, it's borderline unethical. She truly believed she would have ancient married professor that sound like their legs deep in their coffin. Instead she got a literal Greek God as her Psych professor.

She knows that she's not the only one of course. y/n has met 10 other girls in her class that probably write god awful poetry about Mr. Holland's liquid bronze eyes. She can't blame them, if she could write shitty poetry about him, she 100% would. y/n not angry either, she knows out of the 120 students (110 of whom are girls), are probably all in the same predicament. She sometimes gets dirty looks from them when Mr. Holland address her by her first name.

Perhaps that's something she should consider; he calls her y/n not Miss y/l/n or just simply Miss. It's different, it's endearing and when he has a raspy voice, it's so fucking hot.

"y/n," a voice called out, she shook herself out of her haze, "are you still with us?" Mr. Holland was no standing over her. His cologne surrounding her, intoxicating her. y/n gulped softly before turning her eyes to his.

"Yes, sorry sir," y/n replied quickly, trying her hardest not to stumble over her own words or even let the blush run to her cheeks.

Mr. Holland smiled warmly, "that's good, I need at least one of you listening," the class erupting in laughter, "I would prefer it to be one of the brightest." That though got them quiet. y/n sunk into her chair in embarrassment. The blush she had been fighting rose to the surface, making her even more adamant not to look up at him but alas she couldn't.

In that small fleeting moment, she caught something in his eyes. She couldn't define exactly what it was. Whatever it truly was, y/n knew teachers should not be looking at their students in such a way. It made her even more lightheaded with admiration.

The lesson continued on as normal for another hour. Mr. Holland described the outline for the next assignment, it seemed short and sweet. Write a 2-thousand-word essay on the effects of unintentional recreational drugs during early childhood. y/n had to laugh at the way Mr. Holland phrased it. It was as if he had never touch pot in his entire life, to be fair, y/n wouldn't be too surprised if he didn't. Most of the girls in his class groaned at the mere mention of actual work and not an hour and a half session of pure toe-curling orgasm material. Now that she thinks about it, that would be a wonderful way to spend her Wednesday mornings and Thursday afternoons.

Of course, y/n was in another word during the last minutes of the lesson. Unable to focus on anything other than the hint of a tattoo peeking through the underlining of his shirt. She was working so hard to distinguish what it was that she had completely missed the end of the lesson and the dozens of people walking out.

"y/n, what exactly are you doing?" Mr. Holland's voice asked above her. y/n almost jumped in her seat, but she stayed completely still. "This is the second time today, should I be worried?"

This though made her jump out of her seat. "No of course not sir!" She defended as she rushed to place her things away. "I was just off in wonderland today."

"Are you sure there is nothing distracting you?" He asked.

Yes.

"No," she replied hurriedly.

"You know you can tell me if something is," he reassured her.

Yes, of course. Let me just tell you about how you are distracting me by always wearing the hottest casual suits every lesson and giving me the wonderful fantasy of tearing it off you.

"I know that, it's just been my busy schedule," y/n lied through her teeth. She's a broke college student with hardly any friends or real other assignments. "I am just working really hard, you know?"

Yeah, working really hard to imagine you pounding me into next week!

With that last thought, y/n knew she needed to leave before she exploded with embarrassment and arousal right there in front of him.

"I just wanted to let you know that you are totally allowed to change the topic of the assignment if you feel like there is something that strikes a chord with you," Mr. Holland smiled brightly.

Fuck! Did he have to look so gorgeous even when he's trying to be dorky and supportive.

Mr. Holland noticed the shocked look upon y/n's face and immediately retracted his statement, "I promise I won't fail you, if that's what your thinking." He explained. "I really enjoy your work, you're a gifted woman with a real talent and I don't want to see it go to waste with my shitty assignment."

y/n turned her attitude around. He was stumbling over his words. It was kind of cute and endearing, like everything he does. She smiled warmly at his compliment.

"Sir," she spoke softly. It came out a lot mouseyer and somehow sexual than she would have liked but she refused to back out of her statement. "I can't wait."

She didn't say another word but simply slung her back over her shoulder and made her way out of the class. Tom followed her figure in complete and utter shock. He praised whatever god watched over him for the small mercy that was having y/n's back turned to him to witness his immediate blush cover his entire freckled face.

Tom never let his eyes leave her. He just watched her waltz right out of his classroom, he bit his lip at the sight of her perfectly cupped ass in her jeans. Through-out the entire lesson, all he could think about is how her tits would bounce as his dick thrusted up into her little cunt. Just the thought made his cock spring to life.

He stared up at the clock. He had to be in another lecture in 10 minutes, he had to teach another round of student without her pretty face in it in 10 bloody minutes. Sadly, it wasn't enough time to imagine cumming over her said face. He fidgeted until his painful erection was safely hidden.

God, you are such a fucking creep, Holland. He thought to himself.

━━★✼☆｡

y/n really didn't want to be doing this.

She really didn't want to have to walk to the library in a mini skirt she had when she went through her cringy hoe phase and a low-cut tank top she only really wore to bed at 8 at night. Luckily before she left, her roommate gave her a full can of pepper spray and a pocketknife. A handle tool for when you looked like a prostitute.

She had no choice. It was laundry night and she had to get her assignment out of the way, or she would never finish it in time. She wanted to kick herself for letting laundry night fall on the only night the library stayed open until midnight. It was a perk for sure but not when you had nothing to wear but pink neon rags.

y/n pushed open the library door and relieved herself of the anxiety of being abducted by the greeting of Harry. He looked familiar but she couldn't pinpoint where she had seen his face before.

"What cha doing here?" he shouted. Quite contradictory for a librarian. y/n grinned when she saw his dorky face at the counter. That is until he caught wind of her outfit, or lack thereof. "Got a late shift at the strip-club after this?" Her face fell.

"I hate you," she played along, her arms slumping on the cold desk. y/n looked around the library. It was basically empty, with the exception of the middle-aged teacher grading a stack full of papers. Poor bastard, y/n thought. "Got one for me?"

"You're going to get me fired if I do this again," Harry huffed, he banged his head against the keyboard in frustration.

"This is the last time," y/n explained, "I pinkie promise." She lifted her hand over the counter and waved her pinkie finger in Harry's face. He stared up her than move his eyeline to her finger now just touching the tip of his nose. He groaned loudly as he took her finger in his.

"There is a ton of empty booths, choose one and don't make a sound," Harry told her angrily, y/n simply clapped her hands in celebration and skipped off. She chooses the booth in range of Harry, in hopes that maybe he will distracted her and she won't have to do her work because she's too busy goofing off.

y/n dropped her stuff in a huff. Her back slumped into the curve of the chair and the desk covered her body happily. She placed her earphones in and played her favourite study music. She was in absolute heaven.

The assignment was kicking her ass, but she was determined to do it. Mr. Holland seemed genuinely excited for what she would write about if she did decide to change the topic. Now though she's regretting not letting Mr. Holland's hopes down.

She could find hardly anything online and even if she did it was by some random SJW on Tumblr. That's what lead her here tonight. In hopes that maybe some privileged white asshole with a degree would have some sources sighted to help her. Unfortunately, she was having trouble with that too.

It was now 11:30pm. She had been at this god forsaken table for two and a half hours now in an endless pursuit of bullshit. y/n had half a mind to give up and just suck his dick for the grade like other girls would in this situation. y/n had to remind herself though, she is a gifted woman with a real talent that should not be wasted on something shitty to please the masses. Did she just quote Mr. Holland?

She caught eyes with Harry in her block, who had two pencils stuck up his nose in an attempt to cheer her up. It did for the most part. y/n wanted to play along but it had seemed someone else had walked through the door at that very moment and Harry threw the pencils out. Harry's face lit up with red upon the arrival of this mystery person. y/n was interested in who this mystery person was. That is until she saw his face.

Mr. Holland walked up to the library desk in a fit of laughter. His hands smacking the counter and his face contorted in a wide smile. y/n instantly ducked under the table. She could faintly hear their conversation. It just sounded like muffled words until her name popped up.

Jesus Christ. Not now. Not tonight. Why of all night to run into his must it have to be tonight. Maybe I should make a run for it now, bust out of the wind-

"I know you're under there y/n," Mr. Holland's voice sung above her. It was too late now. Any escape plan that her mind frantically tried to rationalise was long gone by this point. Slowly, y/n retreated from her hiding spot to face him. He had his normal outfit of a tight t-shirt paired with a decorative tie and slightly lose pants. This time though he had a long burgundy coat draped over his shoulders. He looked like a painting. y/n smiled sheepishly.

"Hi," she said simply. Regaining her seat from before and fully appearing in front of him. "I had no idea you would be here this late," she tried with conversation.

"Harry's my brother, I have to drive him home before leaving myself and he just wanted to work the late shift tonight," Tom laughed to himself and he turned around and waved at Harry. His brother waved back guiltily. "You know, I could say this same to you," he smirked at her.

"I am working on your assignment, sir," y/n responded quietly. Tom's eyes lit up at that and he rushed to snatch the papers off her desk and into his hands. Much to the disapproval of y/n.

"Oh good, you've decided to change it," Tom sounded almost relieved as if he trusted her judgement more than his own. Worse of it all, he decided to sit down next to her. Even taking off his coat, making his biceps bulge through his shirt. His eyes flicked through what she currently has. His eyebrows raised in shock, "I have to say, I was not expected you to decide to do something about the female orgasm and its effect on the psyche," his voice was an octave deeper than usual. y/n could feel her arousal building.

y/n couldn't decide if he was just being friendly or if he was trying to send a deeper message. Either way, she decided to take action. "Well, with the number of women being unsatisfied I thought it was an appropriate topic," she snatched the papers out of his hands, "but you wouldn't know anything about women being unsatisfied would you sir?"

Tom sat there in astonishment. His cock stiffened against the restraints of his jeans, he has only been in her vicinity for 5 minutes and already she has him hard as a rock. It was times like these that he wished he could just leave all his determination to fuck her over this very desk at the door. Regrettably, he couldn't.

"Well, that just ruins the surprise," y/n sighed delicately. Her fingers flicking through the pages of her useless book. "Either way, the resources are complete shit," this time her sadness was real, and Tom snapped out of his lust-ridden haze.

"Did you really expect a man to know mostly everything of something that is so cardinally female?" Tom smirked as he closed the book on her and pointed to the photo of a wrinkled old man. He was the author of a stupid book and to be fair, he looked like he would write this type of book as well.

"Damn, I knew I was doing something wrong," y/n hissed. She had been spending her entire night trying to piece together information from a man who can only give her half the story.

"The book on the top shelf is one on the chemical effects of orgasming in females by a female," Tom leaned in and whispered in her ear. His hot breath wafted of her skin; it was enough to send goose bumps over her entire body. y/n turned her head to face him, their lips inches away from each other. If they didn't have Harry watching them like a hawk, they probably would be out of breath from lip-locking. Instead, y/n nodded and got up out of her seat, making sure to give him a stunning view of her tits through her tank top. He wanted to audibly gasp but kept in inside. It didn't help with his situation downstairs any more than the last few minutes have.

Slowly, she walked over to the bookcase. Her eyes scanning the endless rows and she made sure Tom had enough time to enjoy the deep red thong underneath her skirt. Finally, her fingers coiled around the book and brought it down to her. Tom couldn't believe his own eyes. He was so under her spell. The way her top hugged her curved and let his eyes completely drink in her breasts. How her skirt was pulled up to her waist, allowing the flushed skin of her ass to be visible to him. He wonders how a woman like her even exists and yet she takes a seat next to him, absolutely unaware of his throbbing manhood. Begging to be touched by her, to be taken by her, by anything to do with her.

"Thank you, sir," she almost purrs to him, Tom's struggling to keep it together. He afraid the next thing to slip out of her flawless mouth, he'll cum straight into his pants when he would rather cum into her.

"Anytime," he responds just a dark before getting up. Hiding his clearly hard cock behind his briefcase. "I'll see you in class?" He already knows the answer, but he just wants the last bit of assurance from her.

"Of course," she smiled warmly. With that Tom basically books it, he's frantically making sure he's well-hidden as he quickly bends over the counter.

"I'll come back to pick you up in 30, I forgot some paper work back in my office," it's so fast, Harry almost doesn't have time to translate it before Tom's out the door and rushing down the hall.

At one point, he basically running to get to his office. Feet tapping against the concrete as he continues to see nothing but flashing images of y/n. It blurs his vision and he's so desperate. He considers using a spare supply closet but know he will only get complete privacy in his own office.

He finally gets there, after what seems like an eternity of running. He checks the hallways before entering. He drops all of his things at the foot of the door. He even has the decency to hang his coat upon the rack. Tom slowly walks over to his chair. It's a rough leather material and usually he would refuse to do what he's about to do in here, it will be stained with the memory but at this point. He got no fucks left to give.

He crashes down. His back hitting the material he hates so much. He doesn't think he's got time, but he still does it slowly. His belt drops next to his and he undoes the zip slowly and the cold air hits his dick. He hisses at the feeling but proceeds anyways. Tom pulls the rest of his jeans and boxers down his legs and kicks them across the room. His hand takes his dick, slowly rubbing the head. Imaging y/n's fingers dancing over it, spreading the precum over. He uses his palm to envision her own stroking up and down in an even motion. He can't help but moan. He can't help but softly call out her name.

He so entranced that he doesn't recognize the following light footsteps approaching. He's so into her non-existent touch that he doesn't hear the door peacefully squeak open. He's so in love with the feeling he doesn't feel y/n walk around the room to get on her knees in front of him.

She's in glory of his movements. Watching him stroke his much bigger cock than her masturbation version has her in a hurry to get her own panties off her body and across the floor. She's sure she's dripping onto the wood below but she does have single care in the world. Tom has his head thrown back in ecstasy as his hand starts to speed up, that's when y/n decides to go for the kill. She licks a long strip up his shaft. Her hands stabilizing him by placing them atop his bare thighs.

Tom almost jumps out of his chair. He had no idea she caught him in the middle of something so vile and wrong. Better yet, she had caught him with the tip of his dick around her perfectly glossed lips. He doesn't get to say another word before y/n's hands begin massaging the bottom of his manhood. It's slow to begin with, it's almost if she's easing him into it. Her cheeks hollow out to allow his length into her warm mouth. It's incredible. Tom can't help but buck his hips up into her throat causing her to gag slightly. It's a sound he wants more of.

His hands ball her hair into his fist. With the faster her movements become, the harder he fucks into her mouth. They sync up almost instantly. One of y/n's hands leave his cock to fuck herself. Tom's mesmerised by the way her fingers act as a replacement for his dick. He's certain he's not going to last much longer.

"I should be d-doing that," he whispers through grunts. y/n lifts her head to smile at him, still letting her free hand jerk and pull bringing him closer the edge.

"I know," she responds, just as quiet. Her mouth reconnects but Tom quickly snaps his hips up into her. Her muffled moaning vibrated against his cock as he fucks her mouth. It's the hottest thing he's ever done. He tugs and pulls at her hair, y/n's edging him on. She's exquisite, it's like she's mastered this and has allowed him to chance to feel how fucking beautiful her little mouth can be.

Like it's effortless, he comes. Without any warning, he is shooting hot stream of cum into her mouth, filling it up. Tom swears he's seeing stars but can't bring him to call out her name but instead bites down on his hand so hard he's afraid he's drawn blood.

y/n releases him from her mouth and is from an actual porn Tom spent his teenage years watching, his cum leaks from her lips and falls down on the curves of her tits. It's a sight he was to remember forever. He wants to grab his phone and click so he will get to look at her covered in his cum for the rest of his life but alas, he's still regaining his bearings.

"Tastes better than I would have expected," y/n giggles as she brings the liquid back up to her lips and swallows. There is no way this woman gets better; he thinks to himself.

"Sweetheart-," he begins but she beats him to it, her gets back on her feet and plants a sweet kiss upon his lips. He can taste himself on her lips, it's addictive.

"I wanted this," it's almost as if she read his mind. He doesn't respond but he simply looks at her, his hand coming up to twirl a strand of hair that has fallen in front of her face.

y/n pulls away from him, walking over the pile of discarded clothes and bend to pick up her soaked underwear. She gives Tom a look, he's so close he can smell her juices from his seat. Her pussy look like a paradise waiting to be exploded by him, but he keeps his hands to himself. y/n paced herself over to the coat hanger, her folded panties in hand. She places them in the left pocket with a devilish smile upon her face. Tom had now place their rest of his clothes back on and had joined her.

"I'll get them back next lesson," y/n grins. Tom nods quickly, their feet fumbling under her back hits his office door. She's trapped in between him, he smells of pure sex but she's committed to her idea. He bends down to capture her lips in his with a forceful kiss. It's hungry and needy. She wants it so badly to give but she pulls away. "My roommate is waiting for me outside."

"We'll finish this," Tom whispers as he opens the door for her. It sends shivers down y/n's spine. It's not a promise, it's an order.

She grabs the rest of her things and heads off. Almost in a sick turn of events, Tom watches her bare ass strut away from him. Just like the last lesson, except this time all he can do is imagine him face fucking her. It's a beautiful sight.

━━★✼☆｡

The three days leading up to class where probably the slowest 72 hours both of them had ever experienced. A constant detail of pleasure from the night before. So when the fated day arrived, both parties didn't know what to do. Tom debated just staying home, though he couldn't deny he so desperately want just another taste. He thought, if he didn't show up, all his guilty conscience of a student giving him the best head he's ever had in his life would simply disappear and he would go back to being a normal teacher. y/n, too, thought of skipping this class for a completely different reason. Perhaps she had got a surge of confidence after hearing her professor call out her name while he touched himself or it could just be the pure scandalous nature of it all. Either way, she wanted to stay cooped up with a blanket while she watched him unravelled. No matter the psyche from the both of them, they went.

y/n stood outside the classroom for a good 20 minutes, unsure of what she should do. Should she go in now and fuck him in the small window or wait and play with his emotions? She hadn't realised how fast the time had went until she saw other student's start entering. It was now or never and unfortunately it was going to be now.

The room was smaller than y/n remember when she stepped in. It seemed more wide the last time she came in here. Of course, the last time she came in her, she hadn't sucked Mr. Holland's cock.

Her eyes landed on him in a matter of seconds. His back was turned to her as he wrote on the massive blackboard in front of him. y/n could see his muscles flex as he tried to reach for the duster above the board. She bit her lip as she thought of her nails digging into his back as he fucked her. It was a fantasy she had to push to the side.

Tom could practically smell her once she walked in. It was her normal perfume that had been intensified 10 fold. He refuses to turn around, afraid that if he did all his good heart nature would go out the window. Tom could hear the faint clinking of the heels of her shoes walk up the stairs. He so desperately wanted them to come right back down.

"Okay, as you know, you're assignment is due in 2 weeks and this is going to be the only time I will answer your questions," Tom's voice boomed. He hadn't got a lot of sleep since that night and he didn't particularly want to do this but he considered himself a kind professor, so he had too.

He turned around and saw the entire class' hands go straight up in the air. Including y/n, though hers was a little lower. Her eyebrow raised and a small smirk painted on her lips. There was no way in hell he was answer whatever question came out of those pretty lips. She looked even more exquisite than when he last saw her. A tight t-shit that had a stained 50's logo on it and a pair of tight black jeans, he knew as soon as he spoke to her, he would loose all control on himself.

So he never did, constantly dodging her. Answering every single question, even if half of them were if he was married or worse if he was free Friday night. He will admit, seeing y/n get frustrated every time he passed her to talk to another young female student made him just that tad bit excited.

It was an hour and a half of pure tension. Sure, no one else in the class could feel it but they 100% could. She never felt more out of control and for some reason, she despised it. He kept ignoring her, kept refusing her, kept defying her. It was infuriating, that she wanted to take fate by the hair.

She waited, until every single soul had walked out of the door. She waited until the last gaggle of girls had finished their blabbering to Tom before she starting to strut down the stairs. Tom refused to meet her eyes even when he knew that's all she did. Glare at him as she stomped past him desk to the classroom door. He heard it lock.

"I wanted to ask you a question," she almost spat, "sir."

Tom straightened himself before swivelled around to meet her. She was so livid with him but he knew deep down that all she wanted from him was to have the white chalk from the board rubbed up her back from him pinning her down.

"Fire away," he responded exactly the same. She stared at him for a moment before strolling towards him. She made sure to swing her hips every other time. She noticed his eyes on her, finally she was getting somewhere.

y/n pressed her chest upon his heaving one. Her face lifting to meet his. They stayed like that for a good minute, just pondering. They listened to each other's heats thumping against their rib cages. They both desperately needed this.

Never taking her eyes off him, y/n snaked her hand around the side of pocket of her coat, smiling once she found what she left. Her soaked red thong, it was a sight for sore eyes.

"I wanted to ask if I was every going to get payback?" she giggled softly. Tom knew she was playing a game but he had no idea which one it was.

"I don't think I understand," he stammered, she strutted away from him until she met the edge of his stainless desk. Her fingers gliding over the wood ever so slightly. She turned her head to look at him. She had a rawness in her eyes; lustful, a sinner's stare. It would be a look Tom was never forget for the rest of his life.

y/n suddenly jumped on the desk. Her ass moving the papers to the side as she slowly started to unbutton her tight jeans. "I think you do," it was almost a hiss but he only heard the desperation in her voice. "I want you to make me feel all the things you did that night."

Tom almost fainted just with that until she dropped her jeans the floor. She had come to class without any underwear on and her wetness was dripping onto the desk. Tom was sure was in heaven but he didn't want to believe it.

He got on his knees. His hands palming at her soft thighs. Tom didn't need another incentive, he didn't need another spur-on. Tom licked a single strip up her folds, y/n bit a moan back. It was like tasting ambrosia or doing cocaine for the first time. He needed more, so he went back in again, this time it was rougher. His fingers gripping at her ass, pulling her closer to his mouth as he devoured as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. Her hands tangle themselves in his floppy curls, she tugs harshly on his scalp as he adds a finger into her warm entrance.

Tom's never felt like this before but he doesn't care. He's sure people can hear her soft but frantic moaning from outside, but he doesn't care. He'll never look at his desk the same way but like everything else, he doesn't fucking care. Tom curls his fingers in the perfect spot inside of her.

"Just like that," y/n calls out, her hair now sprawled out on the desk. "I'm going to cum sir."

Tom feels her walls contract around his fingers as he pulsing faster, her back arches and she trying so hard to force her cries back into her throat. It's a sight he wants to from above, it's a feeling he wants to feel inside of her. So, at the last minute, he retracts everything. His tongue leaves her throbbing clit and his finger, which are glistening with her slick, slid out of her.

y/n can't hold back to whine that leaves her left from the loss of his god-like tongue and fingers. "What the fuck Tom?!" she's angry with him, she wants to tell him off but before she can do it. One of his hands captures her wrist and slams them against the desk below her, pinning her to it. She whimpers at the sting of pain.

He's right above her but she can't see a single thing below her. "Look at me," he tells her sternly, she does what's she is told instantly. "You can't talk to me like that sweetness," y/n knows there is a venom behind his words even if she speaks in a melody. "I'm not your fucking boyfriend, you don't call me that."

Without any warning at all, he pounds right up into her. y/n almost spasms out of Tom's grip from the wave of pleasure. Tom doesn't move at all, he stays nuzzled inside her. It's agonising, almost painful for y/n. Having his perfect cock not jamming into her tight cunt. It's torture.

"You understand that?" he peppers kissed against the nape of her neck, she's about to cry out, she'll do anything. She nods her head frantically, hoping it's enough. It isn't. He keeps his hips locked tightly against hers. "Words, sweetness."

"Yes," she responds. She can feel him frown against her skin. He pulls right out of her and rams right back in, causing y/n to scream out in pleasure. "Y-yes sir," she corrects herself and with that, Tom starts a pace. It's slow and tantalising, he watches amazed at how her pretty folds swallow him up with every thrust. It's magnificent.

He wants to savour this moment forever. He wants to fuck her brains out for every waking moment of his existence.

"Sir, go harder," she moans below him. Her wrists bruised from his gripped, but the pain just only contributes in her overwhelming amount of pleasure. His thick cock is so much better than her fingers, no matter how many she adds.

Tom obliges and starts to really pound into her cunt. It's raw and ruthless, he's calling out her name now. "Fuck sweetness, you so bloody tight," he purrs, y/n can't respond through her chant of curses. "You're little cunt was made for me, it was made for me to stretch it out."

The dirty talk elevates her, y/n's not sure how much longer she'll last. His filling ever last inch of her. She can feel her tits bounce every time their skin collides. Her wrists are finally let free as he begins to clutch at her naked hips. It's an experience she's never felt. The sound of skin slapping and their combined gasping and cursing are the only thing she can perceive to hear. If there was a knock at the door, y/n knows she would have no idea about it.

Perhaps, it's the pure excitement and morality of this whole situation that makes them both feel like they're on cloud nine. Her arms snake around his waist, her hands move with every rough thrust into her. She's gripping onto his back through the material of his tight shirt. Her nails clasping on the contracting muscles. She would have left his back red and sore if he didn't have the damned t-shirt on to protect him.

"Fuck," she curses as he started to hit an area inside of her, she never knew existed. "Just like that sir, I am going to cum," she moans, her forehead against his. They lock eyes again, this time though there is no linger feeling of want or romance. It's just sex. Dirty, hot, intense fucking.

She's the first to come undone. The fire now transformed into a raging wildfire spreading across her entire abdomen. y/n throws her head back in ecstasy, her whole vision goes black and she has to bit down against her hand to stop and inevitable pornographic scream to jump out of her mouth. Her other hand clutches his neck, pulling him closer to her.

Tom follows shortly after, his thrusts become sloppy and erratic but never easing up. His cock twitches inside of her before he shots the hot white liquid all inside of her cunt. He pressed his lips against her as his attempt to stop his moan as well but he continues to call out her angelic name against her lips. Once, Tom pulls out of her, he watches in awe. The mixture leaks out of her hole and then pools on his desk. He's so in love with this woman it hurts.

"I have never cum that hard in my entire fucking life," she giggles, pulling her top down her flushed tits. As he too, starts to redress himself, he simply stares at her. Watches her retrieve her jeans from the floor and slip them up her bare ass. He spots her shove her panties back into his back pocket, not before she scribbles something down on a torn piece of paper.

"What are you doing?" he asked gently, wrapping his arms around her waist. She nuzzles her face in the crook of her.

"I'm giving you a reason to come make me dinner and then fuck me again," she explains, "I put my address in there, so hopefully you can't get lost."

"You sure about this," Tom asked hesitantly, y/n now swivelled around to face him. Her warm palm caressed his face.

"I wouldn't have just done that if I wasn't," she places a soft, tender kiss to his cheek. "Make it a Thursday though, my roommate will be out on those nights," she told him as he grabbed the last of her things and unlocked the door. Tom grins warmly as she makes herself presentable for the last time. "I would clean that up if I were you," y/n laughed, pointing at the obvious mess all over his desk before quickly exiting.

As she wobbled back to her dorm, she wondered what article of clothing she should leave out on their next escapade.

━━★✼☆｡

a/n: this is gonna flop, i just fuckin know it 🥴 anways i hope you enjoyed my fic that has ended my hiatus. see you (hopefully) soon 🥺

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #tom holland smut #professor!tom #professor!tom holland #professor!au #tom holland x you #peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #marvel imagines #actor #actor smut #actor imagines #actor x you

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dinklebat · 3 years

Text

A Cursed Work (Part 3/4)

(part 1)(part 2)(part 3)(part 4)

“So darling, what seems to be the problem?” the masked woman asked, finger twirling around a strand of her dark locks.

Jane was the closest thing this hellhole had to an HR department. It wasn’t that she was particularly powerful or high ranking, but she was the only one willing to hold the other creeps accountable for their abhorrent behavior. So, after the incident with Toby, Jane had been the first person Camelia ran to. Plus, it helped that Jane was already fond of her and would likely be willing to listen.

“Just now I was harassed by a man, one of the proxies. Toby, I believe? They all seem to have the same goggles and face masks.”

“Ah. The tallest one’s Toby. Dark hair, orange goggles, grey-ish skin?” Jane listed off the traits, tapping her fingers as she counted.

Camelia closed her eyes and pictured the man’s face. “That sounds right.”

“And what did he do, exactly?”

“Pinned me against a wall and told me I was forbidden to hang out with Clockwork for some reason.”

“Disgusting,” the dark haired woman gagged.

“Exactly,” Camelia agreed, already exhausted from the earlier incident. “And I wondered if you could help me in any way.”

“Do you want me to kick his ass?”

“No, no. I can do that myself. I just want to know if there’s a way to get him in trouble instead. To kill two birds with one stone, as they say.”

Jane sighed, “There’s where we have the issue. Toby is second highest ranked person here- excluding the operator of course. As idiotic as he appears, he has basically all the proxies wrapped around his thumb. Except maybe Hoodie.”

Camelia’s face darkened. Of course, she was being unrealistic. Even in a supernatural pocket dimension run by an eldritch monstrosity, the patriarchy was still a thing. Pathetic.

“But,” Jane added. “If you want to hang out with Nat- Clockwork, I mean- just do it. If Clockwork doesn’t want you to hang out with her, that’s her choice. Not Toby’s.”

Camelia narrowed her eyes in thought. “But what if he comes back for me again? What should I do?”

“Ah, I take it you don’t know how to fight Toby?”

The brunette nodded, now intrigued.

“It’s simple enough once you get the hang of it. He can’t feel pain, so instead of focusing on hurting him, you have to focus on restraining him until he overheats or bleeds out.”

Camelia raised her eyebrows. He couldn’t feel pain? That explained how burning his hands hadn’t caused a reaction from him.

“Thank you, Jane.”

“Any time, darling. Tell me if you change your mind about me kicking his ass.”

“It’s okay,” Camelia smiled. “I can fight my own battles.”

No man would ever hurt her again.

“You did what???” Kate slapped Toby across the face.

“I just told her to ba-back off…” he mumbled under his breath, now embarrassed.

“Toby,” Kate inhaled sharply. “Clockwork is not obligated to date you. No one is.”

“But I like her more than Camelia does.”

“Toby,” Kate repeated, grabbing the dark haired boy’s face in her hands and squeezing his cheeks. “Clockwork is an adult. She can make her own decisions. And just because she isn’t dating you doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you. Romance isn’t the only type of love. Look at us!”

Toby thought for a moment, his foot tapping rapidly. “I-I guess I hadn’t thought-uh-considered it that way….”

He paused, pulling away from her hands and looking up at the ceiling. “But I still don’t trust her- this Ca-Camelia. Something’s fishy.”

“Tell you what. If she hurts Clockwork, I’ll help you in your little ‘quest for vengeance’. Okay?” she joked.

“Oh…okay,” the other proxy smiled eagerly beneath his mouth guard, his fingers twitching and reaching towards the handles of his hatchets.

Fine, he wouldn’t take Camelia out now. He could be patient, more patient than most gave him credit for. He’d wait for one misstep, one mistake, one teeny tiny slip up before pouncing.

[Author’s Notes]

camelia belongs to @theweepingdemons. if you would like your creepypasta oc to be added to this or my main au’s canon, feel free to ask!

important update: i have decided that this particular fanfic series will exist as a mini au within my goblins and gremlins au where someone cranked toby’s yandereness to a 10. in the main canon of my au, toby is mostly just very passive agressive towards camelia without any actual violence.

once this fic is over, i will be starting a yandere creepypastas x reader series which will take place in the main au! i might start a separate blog for it. please tell me what you think!

thank you for reading till the end

oh and this is the orignal sailor moon screencap

#creepypasta #creepypasta ships #ticci toby #yandere ticci toby #cursedwork #natalie x camelia #camelia cursed adamache #kate the chaser #clockwork #natalie ouellette #mywriting #fanfiction #creepypasta au #Jane the killer #ticciwork

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crescentsteel · 3 years

Text

Keeping a Secret - Part 3

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn warnings: lots of swear words, tsukki being a a closet softie wc: 7.3k (Ill just stop apologizing for this long chapter updates at this point)

[a/n]

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist uwu

AO3

Part 2 || Part 4 || masterlist

“Remind me again why are we here.” Tsukishima tells you as soon as he steps foot inside your room.

He scans the room and immediately notices the mess that it is, particularly the top bunk of the bed which he doesn’t doubt must be your share of it.

On the wall on the left side of the room are posters of seascapes and sea animals of different varieties while the desk bolted under it are framed photos of Sendai Frogs. He recognizes them all;, one was taken from the first win of the team on the first year you joined as the manager. The second is a photo of the team at the gym with the new members that year, including Kyoutani who had just recently joined. The last one is a selfie of you on the bus doing a peace sign and winking at the camera while everyone was sleeping.

He kinda feels bad for your roommate now. You’re practically hogging the whole room.

You put down your bag on the floor and shoot him a confused look. “To do our project?”

When you told him to meet in your dorm, he agreed because he thought you meant the common area. After all, he had no reason to think you’d invite him to your room. You two may have disregarded the club incident, tucking it away as a sordid memory from a night of insanity, but that doesn’t mean it is forgotten. However, that doesn’t seem to be the case with you as you appear to genuinely find nothing wrong with the current situation.

You seat yourself at your table, taking out your laptop and notes from the trip last time.

“Go sit, Tsukishima,” you say without even looking at him as you spread out your notes on the table’s surface as your laptop boots up.

“We could’ve just done this in the library, or at least in the lobby,” he says as a matter-of-factly.

“True, but I also don’t see any problem with doing it here,” you answer passively, still occupied with arranging your papers.

He was right. It really does not bother you at all. So, he shouldn’t be bothered with it either. This way, at least, no one would see you and him together. You’re a person he doesn’t want to be associated with hanging around with anyways.

“Do you always invite your groupmates to your room?” He asks out of curiosity since it didn’t seem like anything for you to just invite him in, as if you didn’t care much about your privacy.

“Hmm. Depends,” you answer.

He takes out his own laptop, but still eyes you as he prods further. “On what?”

The curve of your lips tugs up slightly as you sit up straight and lift your gaze away from the notes you took out and finally turn your attention to him.

“I welcome those who won’t get handsy with me.”

“Even if you’re the one who’d get handsy with them?” he boldly counters.

You cock your head to the side with hints of amusement playing across your features, which vexes him. The question was supposed to tear your composure, not entertain you.

“Alright, let’s get the fucking elephant out of the room since it bothers you so much,” you announce with levity.

If you’re going to be honest, the kiss still finds its way to your mind sometimes. You just keep pushing it off so that you won’t get stressed out by it. What you find interesting is that he still keeps shoving that fact that you kissed him as if you wanted to do so.

Well, you literally did kiss him, but it’s not like you sought for it prior to the incident.

It just … happened.

“I’ll come clean, good sir, if you’ll allow me,” you declare sarcastically before setting a more serious tone. “I admit it. It was one hell of a mistake to kiss you. But I didn’t mean to. As ridiculous as it sounds, I really didn’t. It was just one of those stupid, off-the-cuff things people do.”

Your voice takes an accusatory note when you ask, “And why do you sound like I harassed you or something? Hmm? ‘Cause if I remember correctly.”

You cross your arms and look up, pretending to be deep in thought before facing him again with a fraudulent shock. “Oh right!” you exclaim exaggeratedly. “You kissed me back,” you add in almost a sing-song manner.

You put an elbow on the table and rest your cheek on your palm as you hold his glare with a snide grin. “How about that?”

He continues shooting daggers at you but you don’t falter. Quite soon enough, he lets up and returns to the passive, apathetic face he usually wears, which signals your victory for the argument. “Like you said, it was one of those dumb on the spot whims.”

You nod agreeably. “Alright, great. Now that that has been established, let me reassure you. It’s never ever gonna happen again. Ever.”

Your eyes are devoid of any humor while your words drip with firm resolve. Yet, he finds it off that you’re not asking him to do the same given that you both just agreed that you are equally accountable for that imprudent act. He is almost just as guilty.

“Aren’t you going to ask the same from me?”

Your somber expression breaks into a humored one as a laugh rumbles from your throat. You shake your head in comical delight while you look at him. “No, I won’t. Actually...” you drift off as you scoot closer to him until you’re right beside him. “Give it your best shot.”

You close your eyes and tilt your chin up. Did you really just dare him to kiss you? Kiss those stupid lips and have a repeat of that appalling night?

Should he?

He would do it just to erase the smug off your face, just to prove you wrong. But similar to that night, he can’t bring himself to do it. He hates the idea of instigating such a thing.

Even more so now that he’s already had a taste of those lips. Those lips that felt too exquisite that it infuriated him. Those lips that took away his logical thinking. With you offering those lips to him so generously, you make him hate them even more. That pretty face and that playful smile of yours do nothing but add to his fury.

“Can you get your face away from me?”

You peek one eye open before bursting into laughter, making his displeasure towards you skyrocket. Why the fuck is he always your laughing stock?

“See? This is why I don’t mind you coming over, Tsukishima. I bet if I strip naked right now, you’d walk out in a heartbeat.”

His scowl deepens. The mental image of your unclad body is very much unwelcome and unappreciated. “Bring that up again and I really will leave,” he snaps.

Even with your smile intact, your humored expression dissolves a bit and is replaced by a curious guise.

“You know, everyone likes me except you,” you say with no shred of diffidence.

You really are full of yourself. You might be ‘likeable’ for a lot of people, but that doesn’t mean every single person you meet actually likes you. He’s certain there are people who you rub off the wrong way -- people like him.

“Isn’t that a bit too conceited, even for you?”

You shrug your shoulders indifferently. “Maybe so. But you’re the only person who shoves your blatant dislike on my face.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it for the past three years,” he replies as he flips his laptop open and boots it up so he can turn his attention somewhere other than you.

“I didn’t need to work with you like this for the past three years.”

He doesn’t know where you’re going with the conversation so he doesn’t respond anymore. He’s certain you know why he finds you a pain in the neck. You constantly get on his grill with every opportunity you get. Maybe if you didn’t, he could actually tolerate your topsy turvy persona. But it’s as if it’s your personal mission to aggravate him.

“I’m putting the deal I offered during the trip,” you announce.

“What deal?” he asks as he starts typing bullet points of what should be done today so he can go home already.

“Forget I’m the annoying manager when it’s just us two. And I won’t deliberately piss you off.”

He types the last bullet point before returning his attention on you. “Then what? I suddenly become nice to you?”

“Hell no! I’m not asking for a fucking miracle. It’s not like you’re ever nice to anybody. Geez!” you explain derisively. “I just want us to have a conversation where you’re not giving me death glares.”

You give him a smile, one that lacks your usual haughtiness. Still, he can’t tell if you’re being serious or if you’ll actually manage to hold the deal you’re proposing. Truth be told, he wants it. He can’t handle you being your usual if you two have to meet beyond training hours and, even worse, in private.

If this keeps up, he might end up cursing this subject by the end of the semester, which would be a waste because likes this subject way too much for you to taint it with your idiocy.

“Deliver your end of the bargain. Then you’ll have mine.”

Your eyes twinkle with glee at his semi-approval. “We have a deal then.”

You go back to where you’re seated a while ago and proceed to start discussing at hand.

With the start of the game season, training has become more intense. Coach Mira had the team work on the weak points she identified with the help of the data you tallied from last season’s games.

“Kyoutani! Do not lower those arms just yet. Keep those elbows up when you block,” Coach yells at him, as Kogane spiked from the other side of the court.

She looks over at the other players practicing their jump serves. She furrows her brows at something. Following her line of sight, you see that it falls on Tsukishima.

On his next serve, the ball spins ferociously but is of low height that it hits the middle of the night.

“Y/n,” Coach calls out. She didn’t have to say anything else as she cocks her head to Tsukishima’s direction with a telling expression on her face. She’s asking you to handle him, and you know exactly why.

Before he can toss the ball for another jump serve, you yell out merrily which you know will definitely catch his ears, “ Tsukki!! ” and jog to where he is. His blank expression turns into a scowl when you reach him.

“Can you stop calling me that?”

“You’re so mean. Aren’t we close enough for me to call you ‘ Tsukki ’?.” You ask with a dramatic pout and exaggerated false woes that he visibly cringes after hearing it.

He doesn’t respond to your pretentious act. “Why are you here?”

You instantly lose the cheeky act and get to what Coach Mira wants to let him know. You’re just going to twist the words a bit to his ‘liking.’

This is the problem you noticed with Tsukishima, one worse than his rotten way of interacting with the team. He can be incredibly unmotivated at times, and when he is, he only gives the bare minimum amount of effort.

It’s the one thing you can say you truly dislike about him because he’s a professional athlete for crying out loud. It doesn’t matter if he’s unmotivated, uninspired, or doesn’t feel like trying. He should be disciplined enough to push himself to put as much work as he usually does when training.

“You’re not going to get those serves in with that half-assed attitude of yours,” you say sternly while you eye him with a threatening stare.

His face scrunches in utter displeasure. He’s well aware that he’s not feeling his best today and he’d rather do blocking drills for the whole raining than do ten consecutive jump serves.

“Since enthusiasm is the answer to everything else, why don’t you try it?” He bites back, which you obviously weren’t expecting. He’s always irritated when you point out his mistakes, but thus far he has always stayed silent.

Maybe the amount of time you’re spending together outside the gymnasium has made him reach the limit of his patience… which isn’t even a lot to begin with.

“Are you serious?” you ask incredulously.

Of course he wasn’t. You might have some sort of experience with volleyball (although he doesn’t know to which extent), but jump serves are difficult. The coordination of the toss and the run up to hit it at the right angle is aggravatingly hard to pull off, especially for him since jump serves need tons of practice.

He detests the practice for it; he needs to run, jump, and swing his arm over and over. It is boring and tiring for him because it is purely based on physical prowess, compared to practicing blocking where he’s actually thinking.

He thought you’d leave him alone when you stepped away. Instead, you come back with a ball in your hand. You dribble it off the floor with unbendable focus as if you’re trying to recall something.

“Are you serious?” he’s the one who asks this time. He was just fucking around. He didn’t expect you’d actually respond to his provocation.

“Yep,” you answer with your full concentration on the ball in your hand as you spin it vertically. Some of the players notice what you’re up to and briefly stop what they’re doing to watch.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You bat them open with burning determination before you toss the ball.

Instead of watching the ball, he watches your form. There’s no trace of awkwardness in your movements, almost like you’ve done this frequently before. The three-step approach is nearly perfect as you propel yourself up to jump.

The sharp sound of the ball hitting your hand causes the rest of the gym to look at you. The ball spins ferociously at a height he’s not sure is sufficient to get over the other side of the court. He wishes it won’t. That would be the second worst thing you could ever do to him, the first one being that certain occurrence he’d rather not think about again.

You falter on your feet when you descend from your leap but you immediately look up to see if your serve makes it. Everyone else, including him, is on the edge as they watch whether the ball will get in or not.

It roughly scrapes the edge of the net, effectively thwarting its velocity. Still, it bounces off and lands inside the opposing court, causing the rest of the team to cheer you on as the ball hits the floor.

You seem to forget for a short while that you did it to spite him as your face beams with inexplicable joy while his contorts with ire.

Even if the momentum of the ball was broken, you still managed to get it over - the one thing he hadn’t been able to do from his last eight attempts. Meanwhile, you did it on your first.

You definitely had a lot of experience in high school. No beginner can manage to do a jump serve like that, even if it was flawed.

‘Shit,’ he silently curses when you face him with a cocky grin disguised as a pleasant one.

“Who knew that my experience being an outside hitter and captain of my high school team would still be useful as your manager?” you ask as you slowly walk towards him.

He doesn’ expect that your knowledge about the sport came from first-hand experience. He thought you’re manager of another team previously or just a crazy volleyball enthusiast.

You pick up another ball and softly push it against his rib as you look up to him with contempt. “Don’t tell me I can do better than you,” you spur him on with squinted eyes.

He snatches the ball away from your hands and steps back from the serving line. He spins the ball one time and tosses it high. Instead of a three-step approach, he makes it a four to increase his vertical jump. He tosses it high enough and channels all his rage for you at the ball.

With how high he jumped, the ball easily goes over the net. Its trajectory curves when it crosses over and hits a spot a little bit just beyond the end line.

He clenches his fist at his another failed attempt despite exerting more than necessary effort for that shot. He avoids looking at you for he’d be put in an even worse mood if sees that taunting grin of yours.

But of course you had to make yourself seen and intentionally go in front of him with an impressed look in your face instead of a condescending one.

“That was great! Holy shit. It was just a smidge out. Wow.” You applaud him earnestly, and as much as he despises it, it makes him a little less bad about that missed shot.

“Can you leave me alone now?” He drives you away to fend off the stupid feeling. He’d rather you just walk away and don’t say anything. “Not like that serve mattered,” he mutters in annoyance.

“What are you talking about? It was awesome!” you yell out with your eyes shining with flagrant admiration, which annoyingly strokes his ego.

“Just a bit less and it would have been in a spot difficult to return,” you remark as you pat his shoulders approvingly before heeding his request to leave and go back to where Coach is.

“Sorry, Coach. I distracted everyone else,” you scratch your head with an apologetic smile when you return.

“I’d tell you off, but everyone seems more motivated now, so good work I guess,” she commends you with a satisfactory tone.

“He looks really pissed though,” Coach Mira adds as she glances at the blonde middle blocker.

“More than you know, Coach,” you reply with a wide smile as he serves another ball and gets it in this time.

Prior to your meeting with Tsukishima today, you proposed to finish the project as soon as possible so you can both focus on other other uni subjects on top of training hours. He immediately agreed, which didn’t surprise you because even though it’s not game season, you’re pretty sure he can’t wait to stop having to see you.

The project’s deadline is in three months, but you believe you can finish it in less than two if you meet up at least twice a week to work on it.

It should be okay, given that you both agreed to have a truce of some sort from the usual dynamic of your relationship. You actually think that it’s not going to work out smoothly, but you still suggested it with the hopes of decreasing his animosity towards you. Yes, it’s fun and amusing most of the time, but outside the gym where you’re just a classmate and not his manager, it’s kinda draining to deal with it.

“Won’t your roommate mind if there’s a stranger in your room?” he asks as he sits down and rummages through his bag.

“Oh.” You thought he already figured it out because he didn’t ask about it on his first visit. “Didn’t I tell you before? I don’t have a roommate.”

His eyes immediately go to your bunk bed that you didn’t bother getting replaced because it’s convenient when you’re too tired. You usually just mindlessly throw your stuff at the top bunk for a later clean-up.

“Wanted the whole room to myself,” you add.

“Spoiled, little rich brat, aren’t you?” He really doesn’t have much basis for his statement. He just wants to say something nasty and sneer at you because he wants to get back at how you called him out during training the other day.

When he meets your gaze, you raise an eyebrow at him, reminding him about your agreement while working on the project. He purses his lips to the side and returns to his passive expression without saying anything. You roll your eyes in response.

“Well if being a scholar while working as your manager is being a spoiled rich brat, then by all means. Do consider me one,” you answer before looking back on your screen.

He would have never thought you were a university scholar. You don’t look like the type. You’re way too carefree and all over the place. He would’ve thought it was a joke, if not for the tiny offended glint he caught when he said you’re a spoiled brat.

That’s exactly the reaction he wants to get from you, yet it didn’t feel satisfactory. On the contrary, it’s making him feel like a prick. He is being one, but he doesn’t expect to feel like one, especially towards you who does nothing but get on his skin.

Still, hell would freeze over before he apologizes. Instead, he prods on the topic.

“Why would you even work as a manager if you’re already a scholar?”

It doesn’t make sense to him. You don’t need the work if your university fees are already waived. It will just pile on to the academic requirements you will need to maintain.

Your hand stops scrolling on your mouse as your eyes soften, still remaining on your laptop. “Cause I love it,” you utter like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

The look in your eyes is instantly replaced by mockery when you lift them to meet his.

“Someone’s being inquisitive today.”

He gets his headphones out and plugs it to his laptop. He really is curious why you chose you to be their manager, but you just had to be an obnoxious bitch and break the agreement you offered to him just the other day.

He knows you’re too much of a chaos to actually pull it off, so instead of wasting his energy by being irritated by you for the day, he’d rather pretend you’re not there.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” you say loudly with a wide smile, yet he can see the sincerity of the apology through the slight panic in your orbs. You must have realized he’s had enough of your shit. “My bad. Old habits hard.” You laugh nervously.

You speak again when he puts down his headphones on the table. “I may have quit the sport, but I still love it. I love taking care of players like you guys who have the same passion for it.”

“Doesn’t seem like it’s worth it,” he comments with unheld honesty. You could have a lot of time off of your hands if you quit being their manager. You don’t even need the job.

You plant your hands on the floor and lean back as your gaze drifts to the photos of the team displayed on your desk.

“You might be right. A marine science student dedicating her time on sports even though she’s not an athlete? It does sound impractical. But,” you revert your eyes back to him as you continue on, “it makes me happy. That alone makes it worth it. Even if I don’t get paid, I’d still do it.”

Your face glows with pride and joy with your last statement, completely undeterred by his earlier cynicism. If anything, you look even more convinced that you’re doing the right thing.

He can’t tell if he finds it admirable or disturbing. Probably the latter.

“There’s more to life than just sleep, study, and survive, don’t you think?”

It was a rhetorical question that he would’ve still refuted if someone told him that years ago. Back in his freshman year in high school, he thought overzealous passion was stupid. Unless an individual is some sort of prodigy, it wouldn’t get them anywhere even if they keep trying to death.

Still, he put in a lot of work -- more than he should -- when he was playing in Karasuno. What was just a club became entirely something else for him, which, up until now, he still hasn’t put quite a finger on.

When he graduated from Karasuno, he wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to continue playing, but there was a nagging feeling behind his head that he shouldn’t. He thought that that part of his life was already over and while it was good while it lasted, it was time to move one.

Yet, when he was handed out an application form for the university’s college team, he found himself grabbing the sheet of paper.

He didn’t have any reason to pursue it beyond high school. He knows he’s good, but he’s not that good. He was at university already. It was time to focus on his future and ignore the itch to hold the ball with five other players on his side of the court.

What’s even more absurd was the next day, he submitted the application form and tried out for the team. He said to himself it wouldn’t hurt to go on playing until he has finally had enough. He’d just ride it out until he got tired of it.

In his sophomore year, he was scouted by Sendai Frogs and that’s when he knew that the unreasonable passion he has for volleyball is not going to go away. Even now in his graduating semester, he’s still not ready to give it up.

He won’t admit it in your face, but, in a way, he can agree with what you just said. Life is more than just getting by and surviving. That’s the only reason he can think of to justify his choice to continue volleyball: so that he wouldn’t have this constant dissonance that pursuing the sport is a vacuous path he’s treading on.

“Anyways, back to work now, yeah?”

You smile briefly at him and return to the research you’re tasked to do. He puts his headphones back in his bag and gets back to his own task as well.

He thought all is well and you won’t pester him until you both finish what you’re supposed to accomplish for the day. Unfortunately, he thought wrong.

You suddenly close your laptop and start whining.

“Tsukki.”

As usual, he does his best to not acknowledge your existence.

“Tsukkiii, ” you whine louder.

For the love of God, you sound the most annoying when you use his nickname. Even though you’ve used it several times now, he’s still not used to it. In fact, he does not believe he will ever get used to it. Shimizu and Yachi not even once called him that, and they were more respectable managers than you are. Sort of. It doesn’t matter that you’re more active and hands on when managing the team.

“Tsuuuk -”

“What?!” You successfully manage to get his eyes off the screen.

“I’m bored,” you pout.

He glares at you unbelievably. What are you, a five-year-old?

“And that is my problem, how?” he asks with disdain.

“Aren’t you getting tired?” you ask back, unfazed by his blatant irritation. But then again, you never are.

He is getting tired too, but he’d rather drag his brains and eyes out than rest and extend the time he’s going to spend with you.

“Let’s take a break, please, ” you cry out with pleading eyes.

“I don’t care what you do. Just leave me out of it.” He puts his attention back on his laptop and looks for the journal article he found significant among the other tabs he opened.

“I’ll feel guilty if I see you still at it while I goof around,” you admit.

He really couldn’t care any less. None of what you’re blabbering about is any of his concern. If you keep at it, he’ll just take out his headphones again to drown out your childish whining.

“I know!” You suddenly perk up. “Let’s review for our quiz,” you suggest eagerly. “We have one tomorrow, right?”

He almost smirks at your suggestion, but he manages to suppress it. He’d rather not let you see that he’s pleasantly amused with your suggestion.

He didn’t expect that that was your idea of taking a break. He thought you were going to propose something completely absurd like watch stupid videos online because that’s something he could totally see you doing on your free time.

But yeah, he can definitely use a review. It would be a productive break from the strenuous researching and writing you two have been doing.

Even though he still hasn’t verbally agreed, you continue on. “To make it interesting, there’s a penalty for every wrong answer.”

He sits up straight, pushing his glasses closer to his face as you successfully gain his full attention. “What penalty?”

Your smile widens when you realize that he’s finally acknowledging your idea of taking a break.

“Okay, okay.” You rub your hands together in excitement before you clasp them together. “For every wrong answer you get, you need to say something nice about me. And of course vice versa.”

He scowls at the idea. “I prefer the opposite. Get the answer wrong and you get insulted. That sounds more of a punishment.”

You shake your head with your lips pressed into a thin line from disapproval. “Nope. If I get even one wrong answer. I’m sure you’ll get into a litany of rude shit you piled up against me over the years. And I’ll just sit here uncaringly receiving your fury. Does that excite you?”

Hell no. It will infuriate him even more if he throws something at you and you just take it apathetically. But he still doesn’t agree with your initial mechanics. It’s not fair to him.

“No, it doesn’t. But the consequence of a wrong answer is too easy for you.”

You place a palm on your chest and gape at him. “Me? Too easy for me ?”

You break into a boisterous laugh while still maintaining eye contact with him. He just stares back at you stupefied with no idea what you found so hilarious.

“Tsukishima,” you say after recovering from your disparaging hoots of laughter. “I can think of literally one nice thing about you. Maybe two if I tried hard enough,” you explain with your face still crinkled with the laughter you’re trying hard to contain.

If you’re trying to provok him to take on your challenge, you definitely succeeding. “Fine,” he hisses.

Your laughter is completely thwarted when your eyes widen with delight as he succumbs to your plan.

“Great! Okay, two more rules. One, objective questions only. Two, we can’t say anything that involves Volleyball. For example, you can’t tell me that I’m a great manager, because I’m very much aware of that already, okay?”

His frown only deepens from your conceitedness, only to realize that that’s the only aspect of you he’d consider complimenting you about.

“But there is nothing else nice about you other than that,” he says without any trace of sarcasm or ridicule, only stating what he considers the truth.

But you don’t take any offense in his statement. You’re expecting as much. That’s why you added two more rules to push the both of you to take the review seriously.

“Better not get anything wrong then,” you counter easily because it’s as simple as that. It’s a review just for a quiz after all. He shouldn’t be that worried.

“Thirty minutes to review. Then let’s start the quiz?”

You take that he’s fine with it since he closes his laptop and gets his set of notes from his bag.

You get your phone and set a thirty minute timer. You do just as he does and focus on your own notes, skimming over the last two chapters covered during lectures. You concentrate on your learning materials but the alarm sets off after what seemed like ten minutes to you.

You frantically check your phone to see if you put the wrong time, but you didn’t. Thirty minute have indeed passed.

When you glance at Tsukishima, he’s already looking at you with crossed arms and a self-satisfied smirk. He must have finished before the timer went off. He wouldn’t have that smug expression if not.

Even though you haven’t fully gone over the last parts of the lesson covered, you can’t help but be enlivened at how competitive he is. He must really hate losing.

You notice it too with the way he plays volleyball. He might look calm on the surface, but you know he wants to crush his opponents. And right now, that opponent is you.

His muted excitement affects you. Even though you’re not totally prepared, you’re confident with your own wits.

“Ladies first, so go ahead, Tsukishima.”

He clicks his tongue, his usual habit when he’s irked with something, but this one was forced to make it appear as if he didn’t like what you said. But you can tell that he doesn’t give a shit about that and he actually can’t wait to ask away just to so you can get it wrong.

Unfortunately for him though, you two are just exchanging questions when your mini game starts. He answers your questions without hesitation and you do just the same since most of his questions are in your own list that’s supposed to be for him.

“What’s the movable membrane found on the eyes of amphibians?” It’s his sixth question that has you racking your brain for the correct answer. When you don’t respond immediately, he sniggers like he’s already won.

But you do know the answer, or at least the first letter of it. It's the letter N. N-something membrane.

“Nictaling membrane,” you answer unsurely.

The spread of his wicked smile immediately tells you you’re wrong. “It’s nictating,” he corrects you.

“Oh come on! I’m just one letter off,” you strongly reason out.

“Yeah, and that would still be marked wrong in the actual quiz,” he refutes.

Damn it. He’s right. That one letter makes a whole lot of difference your professor will definitely not let go.

He places one elbow on the table and rests his chin at the back of his hand, keeping his eyes trained on you as he silently anticipates for you to pay the price of your penalty.

You bite your lip disquietly when you realize the rule you set was a double-edged sword for you can’t also think of anything nice to say about him. There’s that terrible attitude of his which is usually your source of fun, but not exactly something you can call nice.

You have something in your mind, but your pride won’t let you voice it out.

He starts tapping the table with his fingers. “You’re wasting both our time, y/n.”

You accept your defeat and tell him anyway. “Fine. I think you’re smarter than me,” you confess.

You expect him to agree unanimously, but instead he looks at you stupefied, blinking a few times without saying anything.

“But you’re a scholar,” he remarks. You’re not sure if he just disagreed with you or he’s just putting that fact out in the open.

“Well, yeah. But I’m just really good at studying and have good time management. You’re actually smart. You’re critical with stuff,” you explain.

You cheated a bit with your answer since most of your basis is from volleyball games. Although your trip last time is also proof of that. He provided really good input on how you should go about with the project.

“Okay! Moving on,” you proceed before he can comment further on what you just said and milk it to his benefit.

You ask another question, which he also knows that correct answer to. Originally, you just wanted a fun but effective way of reviewing, but now you kind of want him to get at least one question wrong so you can get even.

“What do you call the structure the lower vertebrae of anurans is fused into?” he asks another difficult question.

You rub your palms on your face, your frustration clouding your mind from recalling what it could possibly be. You push your hair back and sigh when you realize that you’re not getting this one either.

“I don’t know,” you surrender.

His current expression is the most lively one you’ve ever seen from him outside volleyball games, but it isn't a pleasant one. He looks like a villain whose evil master plan is coming to fruition.

Maybe you should’ve just agreed with his earlier suggestion to get insulted when you get it incorrectly. You would’ve just sit it out and brush it off afterwards, not make your brain hurt even more from thinking about non-existent good traits from the guy across your table.

You look around as you desperately try to think of something remotely nice about him.

“Oh,” your eyes meet his right the moment you recall that instance, and form a genuine smile as you remember it once more.

“It was real nice of you to let me lean on you on the way back to Miyagi last week.”

He removes his elbow from the table and fixes his posture, losing the lax and confident aura he had two questions ago.

“You would have woken up face down on the bus floor if I didn’t,” he says defensively as if what he did needs that explanation for it to be acceptable.

You honestly thought he’d rather let you fall flat on the floor. You’re about to ask him back then if he was sure, but you just accepted his angry, yet generous offer which you didn’t expect to come from him.

“I know. I just didn’t think you’d let me rest on your shoulder, so thanks,” you say earnestly, not a trace of your usual cheekiness present.

“It felt nice and comfortable” you add reservedly. You’ve been wanting to thank him but you didn’t know how to bring it up without being awkward for you’re only used to dealing with grouchy Tsukishima.

It’s only then you realize that despite his palpable dislike towards you, he’s not a complete asshole and still cared enough for your welfare that time.

He remains expressionless with his eyes drifting down to his notes, avoiding your gaze as he does so. “The answer is coccyx, also called urostyle,” he ushers back to the question you got wrong, dismissing what you just divulged, which you’re thankful for because you feel like fidgeting with what just dawned on you.

“My turn again then!” you said too loudly as you try to shake off the feeling and put your focus back on the review.

You read the only item left in your list, still hoping that he gets it wrong since this is the last.

“What part of the amphibian nervous system regulates heart and respiratory rates?”

Unlike previous questions, he doesn’t answer off the bat this time.

“You’re wasting both our time, Tsukishima,” you repeat what he said to you earlier even though it's only been seconds after you uttered your question.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I know the answer,” he declares with reassured confidence. “It’s the cerebrum.”

You decide to hold his gaze for two second before you burst his bubble. “Fucking finally!” you rejoice in his defeat.

“Close enough, Tsukishima. It’s the cerebellum,” you announce all too cheerfully.

He hurriedly gets his notes and cross checks if you’re actually telling the truth. You just watch him scramble with a very pleased smile on your face as he goes rigid.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself. He must have seen that you were telling the truth.

You start squirming in your seat. Oh man, you’re way too excited to hear what he has to say about you. You want to egg him on, to tell him to hurry up but that might affect what he’s going to say so you force yourself to shut up.

He raises his gaze at you while you make sure you’re not smiling too wide to annoy him even though you’re reeling from anticipation.

He still doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s thinking based on the way he’s studying your face.

“You have a slightly above average face.”

You run that by again in your head, not understanding what he meant by it at first.

Above average face? Did he just say you’re pretty if translated from a socially incapacitated person’s language? Is that why he was staring so hard at you?

Of all the things he could choose to say something about, he decides to compliment your appearance? You know that you're a bit good-looking, but you don’t think he notices it. He doesn’t seem to be the type to care about that stuff.

Even when you first met, he just looked at you with a vacant expression and greeted you blandly out of courtesy while the rest of the team ogled at you. His apathetic eyes eventually turned scornful over time because of how often you pick on him, and despite that, he does acknowledge that you are pretty.

You’re used to being showered with admiration because of your face so you’ve developed a natural response to it: a gleeful smile with a spritely ‘aww, thanks!’

But with Tsukishima, it doesn’t kick in. Instead, you avert your gaze away from the unwanted fluttering in your chest. You can’t even look him in the eye as you try to collect yourself and think how you’ll respond to that without looking flustered.

What the heck is wrong with you? That could hardly be called a compliment. Now that you think about it, it actually sounded sort of like a product review with its lack of any fondness.

With that in mind, you manage to regain some of your composure and offer him a faint. “Um, thanks.”

Tsukishima looks at his two remaining questions he listed and even though he’s winning the game, he doesn’t feel victorious at all. Your confessions did nothing to make him feel good about himself. They were too sincere that they made him uneasy.

He also doesn’t like that he had to admit you’re pretty. He expected you’re gonna make a fuss about it. He actually would’ve preferred that than you being uncharacteristically embarrassed about it.

Something weird is definitely going on. You’re not acting like yourself and neither is he. There had been too many opportunities to badger you, but he just let them pass by. Same with you. You could have easily teased him about letting you know he finds you attractive.

“I’m out of questions,” he lies to end the damn review.

“Me too, actually,” you say with an apprehensive laugh.

So it’s not just him. You also feel the change in the atmosphere between you two. Your smile is uncertain and you look like you don't know what to do to remedy the situation -- that is, if you even know what’s wrong with it because he sure as hell doesn’t.

But even if he has no idea what’s going on, fortunately, he knows how to end it.

“I’m tired. I’m calling it a day,” he says as he starts packing up his stuff.

You seem to agree since you don’t say anything and just watch him collect his things. You only react when he stands up.

“Oh yeah. Sure!” You stand up as well.

“I can see my way out on my own,” he stops you when you start to head for the door.

You freeze on the spot then nod timidly. “Okay.”

As soon as he steps out and closes the door, you plop yourself back to where you were sitting. You grasp the edges of your table as you softly bang your head against it, gasping a heavy breath of relief when the air becomes undoubtedly lighter after he is gone.

“What the fuck was that?” you mumble with your cheek against the wooden surface.

Part 2 || Part 4 || masterlist

taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai @babythotshq @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @geektastic84 @anaiss97 @berna-dette @just4readingfics @suteorra @xxekitten69xx @simp4tsukkii @music-is-all-i-need @keshinslittlegirl @raspberrysunshinebby @iminlovewhaikyuu @pdiddy11 @lightyagamami @sailorscout1902 @lovershaikyuu @expectonothinfromme @mitzuya @yamigoop

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima smut #tsukishima angst #haikyuu x reader #tags pls work

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