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scarletttries · 5 months

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What One Piece Characters Are Like With A Reader With Walking Sticks...

Request: "So... I was thinking, how about headcanons of the straw hats with a S/O who has a disability with their feet and use walk sticks to move around freely but they can use their walk sticks as their weapons too! I would truly appreciate it if you could add Buggy the Clown and Dracule Mihawk in the headcanons too, thank you."

Pairings: Luffy x Reader, Zoro x Reader, Nami x Reader, Sanji x Reader, Usopp x Reader, Buggy x Reader, Dracule x Reader

Luffy:

- Luffy sees every characteristic about a person as an unending strength and advantage and your disability would be no different. Luffy wouldn't even have to see you fight before he begged you to join his crew, being able to see just how special you are in a way unkind people tend to overlook.

- The first time he sees you use your sticks as a weapon, that might be when Luffy really falls in love, cheering and screaming at the top of his lungs as you take down the enemies pursuing the pair of you and pulling you straight in for a kiss the minute you two are alone.

- Luffy treats you with the saming loving exuberance he does his whole crew, but somehow dialled up by a thousand since you have his whole heart. His beaming smile follows you everywhere you go, and he always feels safe and at home with you by his side.

Zoro:

- When Zoro first accepted the bounty for your capture, he had to admit he thought the price might be a little too generous. He followed you for the better part of a day, sure from the kindness you radiate that he could almost just ask you to come with him and you'd do it with a smile. And then he saw the way you easily fought off two other hunters who had come to take you in, watching the whole encounter with a smirk on his face as he realised no price would be enough for your capture.

- Instead, Zoro introduced himself to you that evening, coming clean about why he had come to find you, and hoping you would take mercy on him and let him buy you a drink anyway. Luckily he had been right about your kindness and you hooked the nearest bar stool with your crutch and dragged it close enough for the pair of you to sit knee to knee for the rest of the night.

- After a night of swapping stories and weapon handling tips, Zoro is infatuated, knowing he's found an equal partner and fellow free spirit he could explore the world with free of worries. You two are famed for taking on the most difficult bounties, never backing down from a fight, and rarely keeping your hands off each other.

Nami:

- Nami has spent so much of her life being wildly underestimated that she recognises a dark horse when she sees one. She's trying to pull a grift in a bar inside a military base, but can't get a word in edgeways with every cadet tripping over themselves to help you; fetching you drinks, offering out their arm every time you want to change seat, trying to one up each others brave stories as you applaud their efforts. Only Nami sees your true capabilities as you take keys from their pockets as they settle beside you, or make an obvious mental note of their name to use later. As the night descends into star speckled darkness she follows you back to your boat, determined to find out your plan and not paying enough attention as she rounds a corner and trips straight over your outstretched walking stick.

- Laid out on her back as you smile down proudly at her, she can feel her stomach do a flip. She never wanted a partner in crime before tonight, but when you extend out your hand she can feel herself drawn to you and the possibilities the two of you could get into together.

- She happily accepts the hand you offer and in return gives you her unwavering loyalty, the two of you becoming the unexpected family you had both always been seeking.

Sanji:

- Bless poor pathetic Sanji, he truly does not know how to handle himself around you. His heart is so immediately head over heels that he wants to treat you like the undeniably precious gem that you are, even when you can look after yourself far better than he's ever looked after himself.

- Deep down he knows you can handle yourself, and that he never has to worry, but dear god does he love you so much that he's going to worry anyway. He's going to offer you a piggyback whenever you have to walk more than a few steps. He's going to sprint ahead of you and pull out a chair even though he's more likely to fall over than you are. And you better believe he's going to constantly fear that you're not eating enough and he needs to feed you right now.

- Sanji is truly captivated by everything you do, and when he sees you fight, that man just drops to his knees in worship of your strength and skill. Honestly Sanji would fall to his knees and beg for your affections and company any time you asked, so completely devoted to you and your happiness, even if he's not always showing it in the most helpful way.

Usopp:

- Usopp can hardly believe how cool you are when he sees you fighting off fellow pirates with your walking sticks. Before the battle is even over he's narrating your incredible skills and the badass way you defend yourself when your enemies underestimate you. By the time all your foes are on the ground he is bounding over to you with a beaming smile on his face and his hand stretched out to shake yours.

- Usopp has always struggled to be brave, but somehow being around you finally brings out the best in him. He finds himself more willing to lead the pack, to step up and be his own captain, wanting more than anything to make you feel proud of him.

- Usopp will never not think you're too cool for him, but he's so grateful and excited the first time you kiss him that he practically sprints off to tell Luffy the good news, leaving you stood blushing as he shouts with joy that he feels like the luckiest guy in the world.

Buggy:

- Buggy knows how much strength it takes for someone to turn a disability into a personal advantage so you know he really truly appreciates you for exactly who you are. He likes to keep you very close, not for some outdated feeling of protection, but because he genuinely values your insights on all the decisions he faces as a captain.

- Buggy isn't afraid to put his hands on you, lifting you onto his pirate throne or pulling you suddenly into his private captain's quarters to steal a moment of your time. He's impatient when it comes to spending time with you, a hollow feeling creeping up inside of him whenever you have to be seperated.

- If you're ever feeling tired or worn out, Buggy will happily leave an arm wrapped around your waist to guide you with his intense strength, grateful for his strange gift if it means he can support you wherever you are.

Dracule:

- It's not often anyone manages to land a hit on the world's greatest swordsman, but that's exactly what you do when he inadvertently sneaks up behind you in a winding village street. Instincts taking over you catch him off guard and sweep his leg with your stick, sending him tumbling to the ground with an absolutely awestruck look on his face. Naturally you apologise as you realise he wasn't actually sneaking up on you, but by then the damage is done and Dracule is head over heels physically and emotionally.

- He insists on apologising himself but only so he can offer to make it up to you by buying you dinner tonight, immediately overwhelmed with feelings for you and desperate not to be parted from you so soon.

- He's so easy to talk to, a life spent roaming alone rarely letting Mihawk connect with anyone like this, and when the night draws to a close he's sure he'd die happy if he never spent one more night away from you.

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vivacissimx · 26 days

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some course correction on visenya targaryen

Current Visenya discourses are flawed because they presuppose forms of patriarchy that didn't exist yet & project it backwards (a trick Fire & Blood actually uses itself, in fact makes it cartoonishly obvious, because that's a mechanism of creating history. Ex. 'Baelon was the natural successor to Aemon and everybody definitely agreed' only for the issue to continue being debated for years to come). So the language of 'usurpation' is used for Visenya when the story that ultimately weaves into the usurpation of a female claimant is only beginning.

The Visenya who crowned Aegon beneath their brand new family heraldic banner, who publicly took on worship of the Seven despite privately continuing to observe Valyrian rites & rituals, is part of a trio who are participating in Westerosi cultural practices so as to legitimize themselves in the eyes of their subject. We are not coming as foreigners who will threaten your ways, it purposely says. These are compromises willingly made but they do not indicate that the Conquerors viewed themselves as within the paradigm of Westeros entirely. Does that even need to be said? They were quite literally a polygamous incestuous union! Their banner is a three-headed dragon, three parts to a whole, not one single dragon to rule them all (and one dragon is what we later see Aegon II use as his banner when he usurps Rhaenyra— indicating that unlike Aegon the Conqueror, he views himself as the one king, & there are no equal partners to him least of all in the form of pesky sisters).

The Visenya who equally participated in military campaigns, lawmaking, judgement, progresses, & holding of Dragonstone/King's Landing did not view herself as being usurped. Neither did this same Visenya show interest in having children until she absolutely had to (with Rhaenys dead and one single sickly heir remaining). The equipoise of the post-Conquest pre-Rhaenys' death years seems to be that Aegon & Visenya were not too fussed about having a child together because thankfully Rhaenys existed between them, Rhaenys who was much more interested/interesting wrt the matter which kept the two elder siblings in peace. As it goes, Rhaenys' death coincides with the fracturing of the Aegon & Visenya relationship. Nonetheless after Rhaenys dies Visenya takes several steps to protect their fledgling dynasty such as military invasion of Dorne for vengeance and to discourage further rebellion, establishing the Kingsguard to protect Aegon who she viewed as perhaps less capable than her, and, yes, getting pregnant herself. When Visenya did have a child, everything she did with Maegor can be viewed in the sense that she was reproducing herself for the next generation. Like Visenya, Maegor's education was a martial one. Like Visenya, he should wield Dark Sister. Like Visenya, he should be part of the heir-apparent-structure by marrying Rhaena (later the Black Bride). Like Visenya, he must show strength when the family is weak, and be in service to their House (by making peace with the Faith by marrying Ceryse Hightower, by putting down rebellion when Aenys couldn't, by returning from exile when Aenys died). Like Visenya, he was allowed to enter a polygamous union (indeed Visenya presided over that ceremony).

[And there are points to be made regarding the Visenya archetype, how Maegor explicitly rejected it in pursuit of his father's legacy, but that's a different round-up.]

Whether Visenya initially foresaw a trio for Maegor, that he'd be a first husband for Rhaena but that perhaps Rhaena could also marry a son of Aenys, brings up a really interesting question as to the nature of plural marriage (whether polyandry was also legitimated by acceptance of Targcest, which had not yet been codified as monogamous by Jaehaerys who notably did not marry both of his sisters— and this question is subtly brought up again mockingly with Saera, more seriously with Rhaenyra). But that's not the point of this post! The point of this post is to say that the nature of the Conqueror trios roles & responsibilities was much more fluid than the language of 'usurpation' allows for. Did Visenya's positioning set the stage for what would ultimately snowball into Rhaenyra's usurpation, a process which relied on Visenya, and Rhaena, and Alysanne, and Rhaenys TQWNW, and so on's circumstances to unfold the way it did? Of course. It's a lineage. But it's an error to say 'things were always that way.' Nothing is ever so flat as that. The point is more that 'one thing led to another.'

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #visenya targaryen #text

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elegantjellyfishwerewolf · 7 months

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Trollhunters! Nomura Au

Final

The third part(2/2)<

This AU was made me and @enniyart

While part of the team, consisting of Nomura, Angor, Blinky, Draal, Aaarrgh, Toby and Jim, went in search of Merlin. Another part of the team with Steve and Eli stayed to look after the exhausted Claire in the Lake house (due to recent events, the house was empty for a very long time).

The journey to the tomb is uneventful. The only interesting moment happens when Merlin wakes up and Nomura says that she is now a trollhunter. This statement makes the Wizard surprised, for a second he looks at Jim, but quickly assumes the usual cynical expression on his face and together with the others goes to Arcadia where an unpleasant surprise awaits them.... The fact is that while the trollhunter and the others were looking for Merlin's tomb, the Creepslayerz, who were left to look after Claire, witnessed her obsession with Morgana (due to the fact that there was more concentration of dark magic in Claire, Morgana's possession occurred earlier than in the original). Steve was already ready to say goodbye to life, but fortunately Eli watched all seasons of "Supernatural", so the first thing he does is throw a jar of salt into the obsessed Claire and lock her in the basement to wait for the rest of the team.

After the rest of the team returns, Morgana is tied up in the same way as the original and they think about how to return Claire to her body. They decide to send a couple of team members to the world of shadows to pull Claire's soul out of illusions. Jim and Toby are called to go to the world of shadows, Angor remains to keep the portal open, and the rest remain to watch the queen of the Eldrich.

While Jim and Toby search for Claire, Morgana tries to manipulate the remaining members of the team. But Merlin begins to do what he does best, infuriate others, and Morgan is already being led to his manipulations and jokes.

Just like in the original, Jim and Toby find Claire's soul and together they expel the witch from her body.

At this time, Gunmar, with the help of Avalon's staff and Strickler, frees Morgana. Gunmar decides that he no longer needs changelings, but Strickler stops him saying that of all those present, only he is aware of what is happening in the world (and with the help of his connections has a great influence in the human world), he also says that he should not underestimate the superiority of people in technical terms. Strickler proposes a plan according to which his changelings penetrate into all important spheres of humanity, and when Gunmar decides to begin conquering the upper lands, humanity will already be destroyed from within and will not be able to provide proper resistance to the Gumgum army. Morgana, who has just been released, agrees with Strickler's plan and Gunmar and Morgana go into the shadows for a while to regain strength after a long imprisonment.

After all she's been through, Claire decides that her parents deserve the right to know what's really going on. At first, Ophelia and Javier do not believe their daughter, but when her teacher from the "exchange school" appears, all doubts disappear instantly.

Thanks to the help of a member of the Nunez council, the team is better able to hide trolls from the trollmarket.

A team of hunters is discussing a plan to defeat Gunmar and Morgana. Merlin tells about the stones of the three shadows capable of summoning the eclipse sword. The trollhunter already has the eye of Gunmar, and therefore the whole team goes for the rest of the stones. It turns out to be quite simple to get the stones of death and birth. Only in the process of extracting the second Draal accidentally turns into a human (he and Nomura even manage to go on a date to a human restaurant. The date itself happened surprisingly well, until Draal started eating curtains). After learning about this, Merlin and Angor finally figure out how to defeat Morgana once and for all. They decide to prepare a potion that, like with Draal, will turn Morgana into a human and when she will become mortal, they will finally be able to kill her.

Angor also decides that they need all the

powers they have and therefore helps Claire create her own shadow staff.

Blinky and Aaarrrgh, as well as in the original, gather allies among the trolls to fight back against Gunmar.

Gunmar also wasted no time and while the trollhunter was looking for the stones of the three shadows, he attacked troll settlements and replenished his army, simultaneously absorbing their hearts of stone, becoming even bigger and stronger because of this.

After that, Morgana begins eternal night (she also breaks Merlin's staff), but when they come to the surface, gumgums do not find a single person.

The fact is that council member Nunez is seeking consent to conduct a training evacuation of the entire city, so all residents of Arcadia are safe.

Morgana, seeing this, immediately begins to ask Strickler what is going on, and then it turns out that Walter has long betrayed her and sided with Gunmar. Morgana is about to kill the changeling, but she is attacked by an Angor that appeared from the portal and takes them to another battle location.

Gunmar at the same time starts a fight against Nomura in the eclipse armor and Draal.

Merlin goes to the ruined market to get a staff, and the rest of the team, together with the Order of Janus, fight against the Gumgum army.

The trollhunters' plan is that Angor should get close to Morgana and poison her with a poison that turns into a human (Angor himself understood that he was unlikely to be able to get out of the battle alive). Claire, when the witch finally turns into a mortal, will deal a fatal blow to the exhausted Morgan, thereby canceling eternal night. At this time, Nomura and Draal will try to restrain Gunmar in an open area, so that when the sky dissipated and the sun appeared, Gunmar fell under his direct rays and turned into stone (the fact is that he became so huge that Merlin was not sure whether the eclipse blade would be enough to kill Gunmar). The task of the rest of the team is to restrain Gunmar's army so that she could not come to his or Morgana's aid.The task of the rest of the team is to restrain Gunmar's army so that she could not come to his or Morgana's aid.

Angor and Morgana begin their battle during which the staff of the shadow breaks and Morgana kills Angor, but he manages to cut her with a poisoned blade. Morgana notices that her wounds do not recover, but remain and begin to bleed. In a panic, she tries to escape to regain her strength and stop the effect of the poison, but Claire, with a new staff of shadow, blocks her path. A long fight ensues between them during which Claire loses her right eye and is again in a dying state, but still she manages to kill the witch.

Gunmar finds himself right under the withering rays of the sun. He tries to find shelter (his skin has almost turned to stone and has become very fragile), but at that moment Nomura and Draal decapitate him. Gunnar dies, but also due to a strong surge of magic, the stone in the amulet splits, and Draal also loses his right arm.

The remaining gumgums, which did not have time to eliminate, are destroyed by themselves due to the death of Gunmar, as in the original.

Eternal Night ends (Merlin, due to the fact that Morgana broke the staff of Avalon, does not regain her powers).

Residents of Arcadia are returning to the city (a little oh.evayut when they see the consequences of the battle against Morgana and Gunmar). And when the team of hunters relaxes, the changelings take over the city and Strickler declares that his plan remains unchanged. Changelings will also destroy humanity from the inside, and then using human weapons they will strike at all the deposits of stone hearts, so the world will belong only to changelings (the world did not want to accept them, and they are not going to accept this world).

Claire goes to the hospital. Draal also becomes incapacitated due to the loss of his arm. Steve, Eli and Toby say that they will fight with the others, but Nomura does not want the children to participate in the massacre, so takes them to the pantry and locks them for a while until it's all over. Jim looks at all this from the side, and then follows Nomura (she did not look for him because time was running out, and she thought that he would have enough brains not to follow her (not enough)).

Nomura (already without the amulet, armed with khopesh), Merlin (still with 10% of his magic), Blinky, Aaarrrgh and the remaining surviving trolls go to storm the Order of Janus.

At this time, it is not Enrique who goes to the dark lands for familiars (let's accept the fact that the Darklands were not destroyed during eternal night).

While the rest of the trolls are fighting the changelings, Nomura infiltrates the headquarters of the Order of Janus (Jim slips behind her unnoticed) where Strickler is now. A fight ensues between Nomura and Strickler during which Strickler prepares to deliver a fatal blow to the hunter....

*BANG*

Jim picks up a crossbow lying on the floor and shoots his history teacher.

The surviving changelings escape from Arcadia. It is NotEnrique who successfully gets out of the Darklands with the familiars in the cradle stone.

Afterword: after the finale, Jimmy and Claire start dating (they fell in love with each other at joint sessions with a psychologist).

Claire continues to practice shadow magic (after the battle, she picks up a piece root of the Angor Rot body and now it grows in her pot).

Nomura, Draal, Blinky and Merlin, along with the rest of the trolls from the market, leave for New Jersey. Aaarrrgh stays with Toby and the others to protect Arcadia.

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whatswrongwithblue · 5 months

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The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 2 - Reflections

Word count: 2,600. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter

Chapter summary: The story of Mina's (Alastor's wife) life and death. Trigger Warnings: Canon typical violence, canon typical language, suicidal ideation, religious trauma if you squint, forced marriage, mention of abortion, mentions of dubcon, terminal illness, drug use, domestic violence, murder.

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 2 - Reflections

October 4th, 1917

California coastline, near Sonoma

Mina Gallagher looked out at the Pacific Ocean and wished she was dead.

Fantasized about it, more like.

Growing up in Ireland had given her a enduring love of the ocean. She was in awe of its power; how it could go from calm as a child’s rocking crib to an omnipotent force capable of ripping sea cliffs apart in a matter of hours. Her small, weak body craved that kind of strength, and she would slip her shoes off to stand in the shallow, icy waves, praying to it as devotedly as her parents prayed in mass every Sunday.

As a teenager, she would run away to the shoreline any chance she could and let the ocean be the only witness to her desperate tears. She had thought about swimming out into it then, letting a rip tide carry her away to freedom . . . and certain death. Same thing, really. But she hadn’t the courage then.

When she was married off at 16, she stood through the whole long torturous ceremony, daydreaming not of a groom as most girls did, but of stowing away on a ship and fleeing to America.

A year later, with her husband in pieces in his coffin and her dead baby not yet dispelled from her womb, she got that wish granted. Only she had been no stow away; she had been a proper passenger, with her fare paid for by her new manager.

Her voice, and her body, were his for the time being. They often snuck out on deck late at night and he would fuck her from behind, thinking she enjoyed the thrill of potentially being caught as much as he did, but in reality, it was so she could watch the waves ahead of them and ignore the man grunting from behind her.

Men were such pigs, but they were easy to manipulate. He had thought he was using her, but it was the other way around.

It took her a couple more years to be free of him but eventually she was able to dispose of him. Not as violently satisfying as she had dealt with her husband but with a poison that she was able to frame his assistant for.

There were many downsides to being a woman born around the turn of the 20th century but getting away with murder was one of the rare benefits. No men were comfortable admitting that a quaint little five foot nothing girl was capable of causing them harm, let alone hacking them to bits or slipping arsenic into their drink, so she was never the prime suspect in either of those cases.

The Irish Siren was the nickname the Americans had given her and they loved her scandalous life story and the lyrics that were inspired by it in a way that her conservative Catholic homeland could never.

If she had lived to see the roaring twenties, she really could have come into her own.

Mina coughed into her napkin and it came back bloody.

She had been able to make a living touring the nation, completely reliant on her “God given” talent to sing until the age of 24. Not long after that birthday, the coughing started. By the year’s end, it was clear her singing career was over. She was the Irish Siren no more.

The Atlantic ocean had always felt like home to her, so she had stayed on the east coast for as long as she could. Back home in Ireland, the Atlantic was mercurial and always in motion but here in America, she saw its other face. This Atlantic was calmer, steadier, and more reliable. The fair weather, high humidity, and low elevation of the Carolinas were supposed to be good for those suffering from consumption and she was able to continue making a decent living as a poet. She couldn’t sing anymore but she could still write, though she kept her favorite, darkest pieces to herself.

Eventually the itch to travel one last time consumed her thoughts, a stronger acting force than the disease consuming her body, and she saved up enough money to cross the country by train and buy a house on the west coast. She had always meant to see the Great American West and now that her time was growing short, it was now or never.

The Pacific Ocean was so much more than she expected. Here on the coast it was often overcast and rainy, and tricked her mind into being nostalgic for her lost childhood home. She had loved Ireland’s landscapes, enough to almost make her forget how much she had hated her life there.

It was so big, this new ocean. She purchased a globe so that even in the evenings when it grew too dark to see the water, she could still admire the sheer dominating size of the thing. There could be so many secrets hidden beneath its depths. Lost civilizations or ancient Eldritch style monsters long forgotten by the modern world.

If she had worshipped the Atlantic Ocean, she had well and truly fallen in love with the Pacific.

Mina stared out her window, watching the rain, and accepted she would have to wait for another day.

Her plan was to row out on the next sunny, calm morning, get out as far away from the shore as the tide and her sickly body could take her, swallow the rest of the laudanum, slit her wrists, and jump in the water. Let the ocean and its creatures, depths, and secrets have her body. It was better than a casket and a last devotional ceremony to a God she had turned her back on long ago.

She coughed again, and the wracking overcame her frail form, forcing her to sit down and double over. Afterwards, she breathed in as deep as she could, but it was painful and hardly satisfying to her oxygen starved body.

That perfect day had to be very soon or she wasn’t going to live to see it.

From what seemed like a distance, she heard a knocking, and realized it had been going on for a while but she was so lost in her laudanum she hadn’t noticed.

It was probably just her one and only neighbor, a bizarre middle-aged man with more money than wits, and a rather strange collection of exotic animals that tended to get loose. He came over more often than her physician, asking if she had seen any of his escaped creatures. The conversation always turned into a proper visit, and she didn’t have the energy or the patience for his strangeness today. So she ignored the knocking and continued in her reverie. Maybe the would-be visitor would assume she had finally died and would leave her in peace.

She laughed out loud at that thought and triggered another coughing fit.

The world turned glossy again and several minutes to several hours could have gone by as she watched the ocean waves in her drug induced stupor until a voice from behind her lifted her from the fog.

“Hello, Mina.”

She turned in her seat to face the man in her doorway, unsure of who he was at first. After a heartbeat, her mind registered the face.

“Johnathan,” she said, acknowledging him as if she had any idea of why he was standing in her living room like he had every right to be there.

She thought she had done away with him for good. In no uncertain terms she had made it clear to him that unless she wanted to continue being dissatisfied in the bedroom, there was no point in him staying in California for her. She was too sickly to perform any kind of proper wifely duties for him, too barren to give him any more heirs and frankly he had enough of them already, and she was clearly dying soon anyway. The only reason he had to continue to propose to her was for her money, and she had told him frankly she wasn’t stupid enough to leave her fortune to a man such as himself. That had gotten her slapped and though she hadn’t been physically well enough to fight back, she had born the shiner proudly in the mirror for a couple weeks. At least she had been left in peace because he had stormed out of her house after that argument and not returned. She had hoped either the war or the pandemic would kill him, or that she would be dead herself before he had the opportunity to bother her again.

“More prospecting business dragged you back to town, eh love? Come to try and marry a corpse while you’re at it?”

“You were always such a cold-hearted bitch,” he said, and she noticed he was slurring his words even more than she was. “I’m surprised there’s enough heat in you to keep that cunt warmed up.”

She had her faculties about her enough to know to stand up and begin putting distance and furniture between him and her. He had never spoken to her that way before, not even when he had hit her.

Johnathan was always a short-tempered little shit with those he deemed beneath him but he had been well mannered with her up until his last visit. She was lonely and often drunk or drugged since her diagnosis and had allowed herself to be entertained by him now and then. But she was realizing too late that she had become arrogant and careless around men in the last couple years of her life and forgotten how dangerous an animal they could be when they didn’t get their way.

And Johnathan looked like he regretted not giving her more than a hard slap all those months ago.

Mina ran, as fast and hard as her tired muscles could carry her, and made it all the way into her rarely used kitchen before he was able to catch up. Not that she had any plan or real means of escape.

But she did have knives.

She was able to grab one out of a drawer but then he was on her, slamming her face into the edge of the counter and she dropped to the floor.

Somehow she managed to roll onto her back and face him, all without dropping the knife. But he saw it and was able to grab her arm before she could drive her weapon into him.

Her arms were as weak as everything else in her body but her grip was still strong enough so that he couldn’t pry her fingers off from the around the hilt, at least not while also trying to hold her legs down as she desperately tried to kick at him.

Johnathan gave up his attempt at removing the knife from her hand and instead turned her wrist so that the deadly point was now facing her stomach.

“Stupid bitch,” he hissed out when she got a good hard kick into his shin. “I don’t want to kill you, stop fighting!”

Oh, he just wants to beat and rape me, how considerate, she thought.

Her face was bleeding badly from where it had made contact with the countertop and she tasted her own blood. Johnathan had strength, size, and health on his side of this battle but she had something he likely hadn’t considered.

She had already come to terms with her death. And she was really, truly, quite insane.

Mina stopped trying to hold him away from her and let the knife plunge into her abdomen. It hurt, but there was little wind to knock out of her lungs anymore and she had so many painkillers in her blood at this point, so she hardly felt more than a deep pressure.

Johnathan’s face was brought suddenly closer to her as he wasn’t expecting the sudden stop in resistance against him so she closed the gap between them by sitting up just a couple inches and bit hard into his cheek.

She clenched her jaw down as tightly as she could and felt the flesh tear and a new taste of blood spurted across her tongue.

He screamed and she laughed.

Mina let go as he pulled away suddenly, clasping a hand over his face and still screaming. She wasted no time in yanking the knife from her own stomach and swinging it up and then down again, burying the blade to the hilt in his neck.

It made a squelching noise as it sank in and Johnathan’s screams were replaced with a wheezing expulsion of air.

She brought the knife out and then right back into his chest.

He fell backward and she stabbed again.

And again.

She didn’t stop until the fatigue in her arms made her stop.

Mina struggled to her feet, using the kitchen counter to pull herself up, and looked down at the body of the man she had just slaughtered with her bare hands. He had not been her first victim. Not even her second. And her only solid thought was it was too bad she couldn’t have done that more often, to more men.

She was so out of breath and getting really, really tired now.

Looking down at herself, she realized most of the blood pouring down her dress was her own and remembered she had been stabbed.

Right. Today would be the day after all.

She stumbled through her house and out the back door.

The rain hadn’t stopped but it was alright because she really couldn’t feel the cold.

Just make it to the water. That’s all I want, to feel it one more time.

But it was so far away.

Her house sat a good 200 yards from shore and she was barely off her back porch before vertigo caused her to stumble to the side. It took almost all her remaining energy reserves to get back up and when she did, her vision was so blurry and her head was spinning to the point that she nearly vomited.

She looked down at the hand that was pressed to her bleeding abdomen, trying to will herself to walk the rest of the way down to the water. It was no good. She was surely going to pass out any second now. If she hadn’t been so out of her mind from lack of blood and opium, she likely would have cried.

When she looked back up, she saw the strangest thing.

A panther was crouched, maybe just ten feet from her, still as a statue and looking right at her. Its coat was shiny and mostly black, but light enough in some places that a dark golden-brown pattern of wide spots could be made out along its sides.

Maybe the knocking had been her strange neighbor after all, at least at first. Come to tell her he was missing a member of his collection and to not venture too far out from her house today.

The panther’s irises were green, with gold around the edges, and her poet’s mind declared it the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen.

But it doesn’t have a panther’s face, she thought, that’s the face of death.

It leapt for her then and she simply sat down. When it landed, she had a moment to feel its weight push her back into the sand beneath her.

She kept her eyes open as its teeth found her neck but she was already too far gone to feel any more pain.

Next Chapter ->

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin oc #alastor x oc #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin #alastor x reader #the fire in the sin

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toggle1-mrfipp · 2 years

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Something I really find interesting about the Horsemen is that whatever their power is, there’s something about themselves that works in opposition to their strengths.

As stated by Pochita, the Control Devil wanted to form equal relationships with other people, to be genuinely loved and to have a family, but that words in opposite of their powers, where they can have complete control over anyone they think as lesser than them. Makima desperately wanted that, the one movie that got a reaction of her, made her cry, was a scene of two men hugging, and when she brought it the other hybrids to fight the Chainsaw Devil, Katana Man, Reze and Quanxi were all fawning over, she wanted to create her “perfect world” all for this. But she wasn’t capable of extending this sentiment to other people, she only ever saw them as tools, lesser beings and dogs to be commanded by their master. Denji was the one person who was willing to show her complete and unconditional love, but she had no problem destroying all his happiness just so she could get to Pochita, and in the end her never even bothering to see him is what led to her defeat.

That’s why I am eager to see Nayuta return. Pochita told Denji to give her lots of hugs, and he does, he wants to give her a normal life, and to see her through college. Nayuta is in a position that Makima never was, the Control Devil’s dream is right there for her, it’s being handed to her without any of the baggage of her previous incarnation, and I really want to see if and how she’s able to give the same love that Denji is giving her. Being unable to feel love and affection for other people make Makima one of the dangerous enemies Denji ever fought because anyone and everyone only existed to further their goals, but a Control Devil capable of feeling genuine love for other people? I imagine that they would be one of the weakest devils you could encounter, but would be one of the happiest ones out there.

Then there is War. They have the power to turn anything they perceive as “theirs” into a weapon, but the strength of that weapon is shaped by the “guilt” they would feel by transforming it. War wants to kill Chainsaw Man, and wants as many and powerful weapons as they can get, but they clearly have no problems doing so, they don’t care what they turn into a weapon, meaning that the actual strength of those weapons is limited. That’s why the possessed a human, because they can feel things like guilt, and anything that they turn into a weapon can be more powerful than anything War can produce. Yoru created a number of pencil spears to fight Yuko, but none of them worked, Asa creates a sword from the uniform her mother gave her, fails to hit Yuko at all, and still turns her into diced bits. That’s how powerful the guilt can translate into.

But here’s something interesting; Yoru shares Asa’s brain and body, she knows what Asa is thinking at any moment, she can feel the things Asa does, not only on a physical level, but an emotional level. Asa is beginning to like Denji, meaning Yoru feels secondhand emotions for him. Yoru is the one who tries to turn Denji into a weapon, but that little bit of affection she feels for him means she has guilt over this. Meaning that the longer that Yoru resides within Asa’s body, the more she can potentially grow as a person, come to care about things, and feel guilt over her actions, which will increase the power of the weapons she makes, but hinder her ability to create them in the first place.

I am really curious to see what the deal with the Famine Devil is. She says she wants to “help” her little sister, but Yoru was clearly very alarmed to her presence. Whatever powers Fami possesses, I imagine that like with Makima and Yoru, that there is something about her that hinders them, the same applying to Death whenever they show up.

#chainsaw man #makima #nayuta #control devil #yoru #asa mitaka #war devil #fami #famine devil #death devil #horsemen of the apocalypse

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just-jordie-things · 2 years

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the koi pond - fushiguro megumi

word count: 4.6k warnings: i think just swearing summary: just a simple fic about megumi realizing he has more-than-friendly feelings for his partner in curse fighting :) more info: characters are aged up ___

The lack of jujutsu sorcerers was usually a problem. It usually meant that assignments were spread thin between the available sorcerers, and depending on how far away the mission was, it could be days before you returned.

Okkotsu Yuuta, for example, had been gone for months. And there were still nights that (y/n) would wander into the common room to find the other upperclassmen gathered in a solemn silence.

So why the hell was this assignment a two-person requirement?

“I can feel you’re brooding from here,”

A voice drew (y/n) from her irritated mess of thoughts, and she raised her head from where she’d chosen to follow a butterfly in the field rather than help her partner with their assignment.

Megumi’s got his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, and as usual he’s giving her that look she despises. It was just so neutral- as though there wasn’t a single feeling within him.

Of course she knew this wasn’t true, and that’s what made him so interesting.

She rolls her eyes at him.

“Come on, I think it’s this way” He tosses his head in the other direction, beckoning her to follow him, and with a sigh, she does.

“You must think this is ridiculous, too,” She says quietly, while her eyes survey the high school students in the courtyard.

For a minute she gets lost in them the same way she had the butterfly. All lost in their own little worlds. Her heart sinks.

“It’s just one finger” She finishes her thought moments later, but Megumi doesn’t comment on her delay.

“You know Gojo Sensei favors you. He just wants to mess with me” He replies.

It’s a half truth, which is as much of a lie as Megumi’s capable of telling. Well, as much of a lie as he’s capable of getting away with. (y/n) had a pretty airtight bullshit meter.

“You’re lying” She scoffs out.

But from the corner of his eye, he can see the tension she’d been carrying had disappeared. He smiles to himself.

“I don’t mind that we’re both here” He tells her.

As usual, she’s annoyed that when she glances up at him, he’s making that stupid face. Just once she’d like to get a read on him.

It’s always just been the two of them in their year. And even over the last four months, there wasn’t any word on any other sorcerers enrolling. So as far as (y/n) could tell, it was only going to be them, for a long time.

And despite his quirks, which she’s grown used to by now, she had grown quite fond of Fushiguro Megumi. His ability to keep cool in tense situations, and his strength and persistence were all very inspiring to her. She hoped that she could learn to be the sorcerer he is.

“Aw, Megumi,” She picks up a teasing tone as she bumps her elbow into his, batting her eyelashes when he looks down at her again. “You gettin’ soft on me?”

With a gentle hand he shoves her off of him, but it only made (y/n) burst into a fit of laughter. Megumi had to fight the urge to look her way so that she wouldn’t notice the color in his face.

“Let’s just finish this dumb assignment. Looks like it’s-”

As he raises his hand to point in the direction of the coordinates he’d been sent, a commotion caught both his and (y/n’s) attention, and the both of them were swiveling in the direction of the hollering and cheering students.

“Let’s go check that out!” (y/n) spoke animatedly, taking off before Megumi could protest.

He could go off and collect the cursed item himself, and leave her to engage with the regular people like she always did.

But as he always did, he followed after her.

With his hands still in his pockets, Megumi leisurely made his way in the opposite direction of his- very simple- assignment, and found himself wondering just when it got this bad.

How long had it taken him to start following her instead of any direct order or instinct?

As he approaches where she’s standing at a fence, fingers hooked through the metal wires as she watches what seems to be shot put practice, with wide eyes.

In what world a bunch of average teenagers practicing an average sport was more interesting than exorcisizing curses, Megumi would never know.

After what happens next, Megumi thinks he might have to undergo a change of heart.

(y/n’s) jaw is nearly on the ground, her eyes trained on the sixteen pound ball that was still lodged in the frame of the soccer goal.

It seems that everyone around them were in the same state of shock.

And then all eyes were on the boy who threw it. With the sheepish grin and pink hair, you couldn’t miss him.

And that strength was no average teenager. ___

Hands over his eyes, Megumi winced as he let out a quiet groan, trying not to bring attention to himself even as he was growing more annoyed by the second.

His sensei was an idiot, he’d known that his whole life. But this was just a new low.

“Oh cheer up Megumi,” Gojo said with that stupid grin, before clapping his apprentice on the back.

Megumi dropped his hands so he could properly glare at the man, before turning his attention back towards the cause of his misery.

(y/n) had been showing Itadori around the place, getting him used to the campus as well as trying to be his friend.

“Now you don’t have to be so annoyed being partnered up together all the time” Gojo says, his grin subtly shifting into a smirk while he watches the ravenette narrow his eyes at the too friendly pair.

“I wasn’t annoyed about being partnered together all the time” Megumi grumbles back, his eyes never leaving his peers.

He seems funny. She sure is laughing a lot. Does she usually laugh this much? Is she just trying to be nice or is he really this funny?

Gojo hums, his grin returning as he pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head so he could fully take in the scene before him.

“Oh, young pupil, finally taking after the master and setting your sights on a lovely woman”

“You’ve never set your sights on one woman a day in your life” Megumi retorts.

Gojo only laughs, not taking an ounce of offense from the cold response. He was more amused by the pink in Megumi’s cheeks than anything else. He had been waiting quite a while for the young man to come around on his pent up feelings after all.

“The way I see it, you’ve got two options,” Gojo said, knocking his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. “You could keep it to yourself, and watch her while she shares her life with others. Or, you could tell her, and share your lives together”

Megumi turns to his sensei with furrowed brows.

“First of all, that was the worst advice I’ve ever heard,” He said in monotone. “And second of all, you’re wrong. I don’t- I don’t have like- feelings- or- or whatever- for (y/n). Itadori is just annoying. That’s it”

“Oh, alright then,” Gojo shrugs, but from the way his grin never falters, Megumi knows he doesn’t believe him. “Well, then there’s nothing to worry about I suppose”

There’s a pregnant pause as Megumi’s eyes shift to the commotion of (y/n) cheering loudly for something, before grabbing onto Yuji’s arm and tugging him after her back in the direction of the dorms.

It feels like there’s a fist around his heart, squeezing tightly.

“Right” He answers Gojo a few seconds too late to be remotely believable.

Gojo bids him a good night before heading off to whatever it was he did with his free time. Leaving Megumi alone in the courtyard before the koi pond.

He tries to remember when this suffocating feeling first settled into his chest. When he started to worry less about his own well being and worry more about making sure (y/n) was never knocked down for too long. Surely it hadn’t always been this way, there must have been a gradual build up?

Sitting before the hungry and impatient koi, his mind begins to overthink.

When (y/n) had been recruited those few months ago, he’d been hesitant, he remembers that much. He remembers not knowing what to expect having another sorcerer around to train with and study with and to pretty much spend his every day with. His grumpiness had quickly turned to anxiety.

What if they were annoying? What if they were unprepared? What if they didn’t like him? What if they hated each other?

But then (y/n) showed up, with her bright smile and warm personality. He remembered her handshake being warm, too. Warm and gentle, with no more urgency than she would give to picking out just the right croissant at the bakery in Tokyo they’d gone to together once- he remembered it taking her a few minutes to tell the cashier just which one looked the best.

She was everything he hadn’t prepared for. Funny and friendly and beautiful, the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. And that didn’t even begin to cover how good of a sorcerer she was. He could barely keep up with her in training, her stamina was off the charts.

(Sure, he could tell her to just train with Maki, since they’d probably be a better match. But that would be stupid of him, because then he wouldn’t get to see that token victory smile she wears every time she defeats her foe, curse or training partner)

And then it dawns on him, all too slow, but all at once.

He’d been in love with her this whole time, and he just hadn’t known it. ___

“This place is amazing,” Yuji declared, mouth stuffed full of the breakfast burrito he’d made for himself, even though it was well into the evening. “I mean, you’ve got it all!” He added, presenting the half-eaten burrito to (y/n) as if she hadn’t watched him make it just minutes ago.

She laughs, elated that he had settled in so easily to the place she called home. It was nice to have a new company, it wasn’t often that she got to meet new people, much less someone she shared any similarities with.

(Minus the whole harboring a very very evil curse inside of him, anyways)

“I’m glad you love it already,” She tells him as they begin to walk back through the dorms to go their separate ways. “I fell in love with this place really fast, too” She adds.

And maybe there’s a bit more softness to her voice as she says it, because Yuji notices the small change in demeanor almost instantly.

He doesn’t say anything, as he’s still new to it all and he doesn’t know everyone too well yet. But something tells him it has more to do with the other sorcerer with the crazy hair than it does with the killing evil spirits of it all.

So he decides to play his cards right and play dumb- that way he can gather more intel on what’s going on with the tension between his new classmates.

“Because of the burritos?” He asks, and they both burst into laughter again.

Wiping the tears of joy from her eyes, (y/n) nods.

“Of course, what else would it be?” She teases.

As they pass the main doors for the building, she notices one has been left ajar, and a stream of light spills down the stairs and faintly into the courtyard. It reaches far enough that she could just barely make out a familiar silhouette.

A curious look flickers over her features for a passing moment, but Yuji notices it quick enough to peek his head out the door. Sure enough there’s Megumi, sitting alone, a ways away by the koi pond.

“He sure likes fish, huh?” Itadori asks, making (y/n) snort.

“I’m gonna go give him some company,” She says, her voice taking that soft tone that he’d heard earlier. “But I’ll see you tomorrow for class?” She adds, giving him a smile and hoping he doesn’t start teasing her.

“Yeah, totally!” Yuji agreed. “Thanks for the tour!”

He heads off in the direction of his dorm with a wave, and (y/n) bids him goodnight.

Her voice echos just enough for the lonely boy outside to pick it up. He sits up straight immediately, turning his gaze away from the fish that seemed to be mocking him for the last hour, in the direction of where (y/n) was now heading down the stairs, and towards him.

Did his throat always close up when she was around?

She’d left the door ajar, so as she walked towards him there was a heavenly glow around her angelic figure. He wondered if she did this on purpose, if she was aware of the generous gift of beauty bestowed to her.

Did his hands always get clammy when she was around?

“Hey” Her voice was soft, but even from afar he could hear it.

“Hey” Megumi barely rasped out the single word.

As she closed the distance between them, he was able to notice that she had changed into a nightgown. He briefly wondered what time it was, if he had been out here too late. The thought disappeared from his mind as soon as she spoke again.

“Can I sit?”

She’s pointing to the space next to him, a hopeful smile on her face.

Megumi swallows before nodding. He pushes himself to the side to make space for her- an unnecessary adjustment, but she doesn’t comment on it, she simply lowers herself to the ground, happily filling the space beside him.

He feels like he should say something once she’s beside him. It’s quiet for a few beats, long enough that his overworked mind begins to think it’s been too long, and his anxiety begins to sink in.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything” (y/n) voices before he can think of something to say.

“N-no!” He shouts, flushes, then tries again. “No,” He repeats, quieter, and (y/n) beams. “I was just… sitting”

It’s not a lie, he knows that. But still, it sounds like he’s lying right through his teeth.

“Okay, good,” (y/n) hums, bringing her attention back to the koi that were eagerly swimming before them. “They seem to enjoy your company” She comments, smiling as she dips her fingers into the surface of the water, a few of the fish brushing up against her, making her giggle.

“I guess” Megumi mutters, glaring down at the koi he had so blatantly assumed were laughing at his loneliness from under the surface.

“Who wouldn’t?” (y/n) tells him oh so sweetly.

As she turns to look up at him again, he quickly averts his gaze, feigning interest in the cuffed sleeve of the button down he was still wearing.

“Yuji seems to like you a lot,” She continues, her eyes also watching his fingers as he fiddles with his sleeve until the cuff comes unrolled, covering his forearm. “He asked about you a couple times”

“He seems to like you a lot too” Megumi retorts, but something in his tone is less than friendly, and (y/n’s) brows furrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The question comes out in a mumble, she can’t bring herself to take on a defensive tone.

Megumi’s eyes flicker between her and his sleeve for a brief moment, before he shakes his head.

“Nothing. He just seems to like you. That’s all”

It’s quiet for a minute. A long minute. Her eyes are boring into his, even as he begins to fidget with his other sleeve, he can feel her staring at him, waiting for something more, but it doesn’t come.

“I hate when you do that, you know”

His surprise when she speaks is evident as he looks up at her again, eyes slightly rounded and lips parted like he’s about to say something, but he falters for a moment before words come to mind.

“Do what?” He asked.

“That,” (y/n) replies, pointing directly at him. “That thing where- where you act like you don’t care, but I know you do- and I don’t understand why you’re bothering to lie about it”

“I’m not lying about anything” Megumi replied smoothly, dropping his hand from his sleeve.

(y/n) blinks, staring at him for a long moment before sighing softly.

She gets a little more comfortable, adjusting to sit with her legs crossed and the material of her nightgown pooled in her lap. She rests her elbow on her knee, and drops her head into her palm, gazing into the water with a sad look in her eye.

Did he always make her feel like this?

“I’m going to open up to you about something,” She declares, without looking at him. He doesn’t know what to say, so he simply nods his head.

Still, she pauses before speaking again.

“I never wanted any of this,” She begins, her free hand gesturing weakly to the area around them. “I didn’t want to be a sorcerer, I didn’t want to give up what little of a life I had to move here away from everything and everyone I knew. I didn’t want to spend every day training, I didn’t want to exorcize curses- in fact, when I first came here, I planned on running away,”

Megumi’s brows raise, surprised by this sudden bomb she’s chosen to drop on him. He wasn’t expecting it at all. She was such a talented sorcerer- brave and strong- she would have given up so much had she left it behind.

She looks over at him, a faint smile on her lips as her eyes wander lazily over his features. He looked shocked, as she expected.

But he also looked… pretty. The small patch of light that reflected off the water decorated his face beautifully. He looked like a painting.

“But then I got here…” She sighs out, eyes trailing down to the messed up sleeve on his right arm that he’d given up on unraveling. “And then I met you,”

His palms got that clammy, twitchy feeling again.

(y/n) leans off of her hand and more towards him, and his eyes widen at her closeness, following her every move, until her hands land on his arm, and gently she’s unrolling his sleeve for him, until it falls properly around his wrist.

“And I realized I wasn’t giving up anything at all,” She continues with her story, while Megumi watches as she buttons up the cuff of his sleeve so it stays secure at his wrist. “I didn’t have any friends at my old school, I didn’t participate in extracurriculars, or go out of my way to meet people at all. I was… bored, I guess,”

She brings her gaze back to his, happy to find that he holds eye contact with her.

“But you became my friend right away,” She says softly, whispered, like it was a secret between them. “You treated me like an equal, even though you were way out of my league,” She chuckles for a moment, “Still are” She adds in a murmur.

“That’s not true at all,” Megumi shakes his head, certain of himself. “You’re so much more-”

He knew what he was going to say, but then those damn (y/e/c) eyes are gazing into his again and not a single word at all comes to mind. He forgets to speak entirely, and so he sits there with his mouth hanging open and his eyes darting between hers like they’ll give him the answer he’s looking for.

A rosy color spreads across her cheeks and over her nose, and bashfully she drops her head, biting down on her lip to keep herself from giggling from the butterflies fluttering in her chest.

“Alright, I opened up to you,” She says, looking up at him again when she deems it safe to do so. “So, humor me, Megumi,”

She says his name and the stars in the sky are nothing compared to the stars behind his eyes.

“Tell me something I don’t know yet”

He swallows, and the hand that she has resting over his wrist suddenly makes his skin burn hot even though the material of his shirt.

Sure, it’s an easy enough question to answer. There’s plenty of things she doesn’t know about him, he wasn’t exactly an open book.

But he gets the feeling, deep in his chest, that when she’s looking into his eyes the way she is now, she’s not looking for him to tell her he actually prefers beef ramen to chicken.

Curiously, her head tilts to the side while she studies him. She had always naturally been very good at reading people. She could pinpoint an exact emotion from a mile away. But when it came to Megumi, it was like pulling teeth to try and figure out what was going through his head.

Right now was no different, she still struggled to read his expression. But there was something new there, behind the striking azure of his eyes, something… glimmered there. And she was dying to know what it was.

“Okay…” Megumi sighs out, and leans back with his palms on the ground to prop himself up. “You… you make me nervous. Most of the time. Maybe all of the time”

“Really?”

She’s grinning, from ear to ear, like it was the most exciting thing he could have shared. With furrowed brows, Megumi nods his head a little bit.

“Why?” She asks, a breathless laugh falling past her lips while she tries to rack her brain for any reason she could have given him for being wary around her.

“I don’t really know. You just do,” Megumi shrugs his shoulders, tilting his head back to trace the constellations with his eyes. “I guess it’s probably because no one’s ever been interested in me the way you are”

He doesn’t see it, but it makes her face heat up with a bright pink color.

She wants to tease him for it, playfully ask him what makes him think she was so interested in him, but she can’t bring herself to do it.

“Well that simply can’t be true” She hums to herself, but Megumi hears her perfectly clear.

He shakes his head in disbelief, before letting out a humorless laugh.

(y/n’s) brows fall to a furrow, confused, and somewhat hurt.

Did he really think so little of himself? Was he such a downer that he couldn’t even entertain the thought of anyone being interested in him? When here she was, trying to get a little closer to him day after day. And here she thought she’d made her interest clear, very clear.

Maybe he was more of an idiot than she thought.

“What are you laughing about?” She asks, her face pulling into a pout as she looks at him.

“You” He replies, still shaking his head.

“Well- well stop laughing! And stop shaking your head. You’re wrong”

She’s full on glaring at him now, while he laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world. And the longer she stares at him like that, the harder he laughs.

“Megumi! Cut it out already!” She has to shout over his laughter, and it hits her then that she doesn’t think she’s ever seen him laugh this much.

It’d be cute, if she wasn’t so annoyed.

“What?” He asked through his cackles. “You’re the one that wanted a little quid pro quo. I’m sorry that it’s not what you wanted to hear but-”

“No, Megumi, that’s not what this is about. I don’t care that I make you nervous- I mean I’m a little flattered- that’s besides the point- but I don’t like hearing you talk about yourself like that!”

She swats his arm for emphasis. Megumi gives her an incredulous look.

He’d never seen her worked up like this before. It was pretty cute.

“That didn’t hurt” He monotones.

“If I was trying to hurt you, you’d be at the bottom of that koi pond” (y/n) mutters back.

“I believe you” Megumi chuckles.

“But you don’t,” She argues, her voice lowering from it’s dramatic volume. “I’m trying to tell you that you’re important to me, and a lot of other people, and you’re not taking me seriously,”

He blinks, taken aback by the genuity in her features. Her eyes were boring into his. It would have been unsettling, but her eyes were so pretty-

“You’re too hard on yourself, you know?”

Her voice has grown soft, but she doesn’t sound any less sincere. If anything, she’s completely captured his attention.

“And that’s good sometimes, it’s good to push yourself when you need it but… but sometimes you need to take it easy and accept it when people want…”

She trails off, and her eyes fall away, hoping the koi would give her the right words so she wouldn’t embarrass herself.

“When people want what?” Megumi asked.

“When people… want to… be close to you” She finishes her thought slowly, her teeth gnawing into her lip as she waits for his teasing to start.

It takes a minute or two for Megumi to process, while (y/n) fidgets and stares down at the fish, who had seemingly become bored of this conversation.

Screw you, koi. I’m trying to pour my heart out here.

“You don’t think you’re close to me?”

Her head shoots back up to look at him.

“No- I mean- I know we’re friends but-”

“(y/n), you’re my favorite person, probably ever,” He cuts off her stammering, rather effectively.

Her cheeks flush with pink again.

“I know I don’t, uh, show it well, but you are, I guess I thought you’d at least know that,” He explains.

Now her heart’s melting.

“You’re very close to me. I’m sorry it doesn’t feel like it”

And now she’s completely swooning.

“Oh, Megumi,” She grins, and leaps forward to throw her arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

He freezes, naturally, but after a moment he finds himself wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her back. Maybe even a little tighter than necessary.

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” She sighs into his ear. “I just hope you know how important you are to me, okay?”

“Yeah… yeah, you’re important to me too” He mumbled back.

(y/n) slipped out of his hold then, giving him a bright smile.

“I’m glad you let me talk to you about all this,” She said sheepishly. “And now we can talk to each other anytime, right?”

“Right,” Megumi agreed with a short nod. “Anytime”

“Okay, well, I’m gonna get to bed then, it’s late,” She sighed. “You should soon too”

“I will,” Megumi chuckled. “Are you going to start worrying over me now?”

He got a swat to the shoulder as she stood up.

“You’re not as cute when you’re trying to be a smartass,” She says, effectively making his whole face turn red. “G’night, Megumi”

He forces a smile as he bids her goodnight, and watches her retreat back to the dorms.

If Gojo were here, he’d surely call him a coward. But even though he didn’t tell her the full truth, he still feels good about their conversation. It’s hard to admit your feelings for someone, at least he was able to manage telling her what was really important. That she was important.

By the time he finally got up from his spot, glaring at the koi that teased him for being a wuss, he figured he’s going to have to do better, and work up the nerve to tell her how he really felt. ___

xoxo - jordie

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shadovan · 8 months

Text

Drabbling of events (with @never-surrender & @apalestar)

He wished he could say he remembered the Feywild. There was some subconscious part of his memory that knew precisely which direction to venture toward, but if Tareque were ever put in a position where he had to recall the finer details, it would be a fruitless effort. Too much of his mind had been lost to the void over the years, the warping and twisting of his soul each time he regenerated from being felled or giving whim to constructs of a darker nature.

The twilight-like skies were all he had to gauge his location, the only recollection of finding his way through the mostly foreign plane. There was some ways to travel and he begrudgingly doubted he would be returning to the meeting point with Astarion within the timeline he had been given.

Aurelia is going to be furious, he realized, having not taken into account the passing of time varying between there and Faerun until that moment. It wasn't that he had been oblivious to the knowledge, but more that he'd never had reason to account for it until events of recent.

While many of his actions could be viewed as impulsive, Tareque had not run into this blindly. His unseen personal artillery of scrolls and potions was perhaps more a threat than his spinal blade, and he had no hesitation to cut down and Nilshai in his path.

The sky had blackened nearly a dozen haunting times before he finally found her, and the woman screamed a bloodcurdling yell when she spotted him, laden with the phosphorous blood of the sorcerers he'd obliterated.

"A bit overdramatic," he muttered, using the sharp of his sword to cut the bonds around her wrists.

"Tareque...?" The woman stared at him with a combination of fear and confusion in her eyes, because what mother would not recognize her own son, even beneath the ichor and rot that his own convictions had twisted him into. "What have you done?" The hushed whisper barely touched his ears, but it was enough to make his chest clench.

"What does it look like," muttered out, not at a question, but a curt response.

Her aging body clearly was not at a disadvantage when it came to aiding their escape from the settlement, but he still lifted her to carry her over the poisonous lichen that jutted from the rocks in clouds of orange sickly fog.

When they had finally cleared the most dense region of the forest, Tareque's destination became the lingering cities of glass spires, intent on returning the matron to the civilization she knew.

"No," she had decided. "The people are leaving," Callia, his mother, explained to him. "They flee to Faerun. A retreat, some say, but is it truly so if it assures survival? I want to join them."

Tareque stared to her with utter surprise. She wanted to accompany him to Faerun? The prospect of having the only family member that remained to him on the same plane was a possibility that had never crossed his mind. Yet, after abandoning the Feywild behind him, how could he ever deny her that if it was in his realm of capability?

So it was that the search for a portal began. The magic of Sildeyuir was unstable at best, so interplane openings were practically random. And when they did encounter one, it was less than optimal.

"The strength is weak," Callia said quietly. "We could not both traverse through."

Of course... Tareque simple let out a slow breath in a quiet acceptance. "Go on. I will make my own way. I will find you when I return." He handed her his sword and his bag, because those were not items that could regenerate with the lich. She looked to him with a lack of understanding, but merely nodded. What other option did she have? With that, she stepped through the portal.

Just as she had said, the weave flickered in her wake, the portal warping and snapping in a distinctive sound before it vanished entirely. Tareque waited, just in case it might reappear or leave some scar of magic in it's wake, but there was nothing but silence.

Good...

Now, that left him in quite a position. Tareque knew exactly what he was doing, however. He drew the dragger from his belt and turned his head back in the direction they had just fled from. It would mean his death, but that was precisely the intent. A regeneration was a one-way ticket back to his tower, and he would slaughter as many of the realm's invaders as he could in the process. Sure, he could have simply slit his own throat, but this was a far more dramatic way to end one of his countless lives. For her. And for Sildeyuir.

He was oblivious to how much time passed between then and when the fight of his body finally gave up, his mind spinning into that blackened state of death before the phylactery grasped his soul and began the process of regenerating his form.

The dirty stone of the crypt was cold beneath his skin.

That was the first conscious thought.

He could hear the echoing drip inside the well.

It had worked.

When his body allowed him, Tareque scrambled to his feet. He all but tripped up the stairs as he ran, rushing into the main foyer of the tower, entirely nude and -- Face first into Aurelia--!

"My love!" He planted a heavy kiss on her lips before pulling away with speed. "I will be right back!" Grabbing for whatever cloak was nearest to the door, he fled outdoors.

Was that a lamb-? No, he would worry about that when he returned.

It took fleeting amounts of magic to locate Callia amidst Faerun's borders, but when he did, he collected the woman and teleported them both back to the front of the tower.

"Is.... Is it pink?" The woman asked, incredulously.

The lich blinked and peered upward. His vision was incapable of sorting out the hue. "Is it?"

And... those were definitely animals. Oh dear. How long had he been away?

#Drabble Drabble;;#never-surrender #apalestar #Honey is sweet but the bee stings;; Aurelia (never surrender)#Verse/BG3|DnD/ Family Matters

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chatonarya · 27 days

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I'd like to take a few moments to talk about Weiss (Courier) and the few tidbits of extra lore he received with RS and how it impacts his overall character. Mostly this is just because I’ve always had a soft spot for him, as it was actually Weiss who charmed me from the first and got me invested in the Kjerag faction and characters, and perhaps it’s merely wishful thinking on my part, but I like to hope that his storyline still has more to it. I’ve always found it strange how, during the release of BI, all the year 1 Kjerag operators received oprecs, yet he was curiously exempt.

But now with the upcoming Terra Meshi event, he’ll finally receive an oprec and I’m thrilled at the prospect of more lore for him. So ahead of that, I’d like to talk about what we have so far.

Weiss appears little in RS, mostly observing Harold and his army and delivering Harold’s invite to Enciodes. After Weiss gives his report and opinion of the army, Enciodes comments that Weiss is “fond of taking the negative tack,” but this is in fact “one of [Weiss’s] strengths.” This shows that despite Weiss’s oft-cheery exterior facade, he has a pessimistic streak when it comes to potential conflict.

Near the end, when he awakes from being captured by the Victorians, he is vehement and adamant that he get free as soon as possible to rush back to Enciodes to do what little he still can if the situation is too late, stating that he “[has] to make up for [his] disappointment,” which is a sort of callback to his module, where he places “living up to duty” as the most important thing he can do for Enciodes. We also learn he conceals a razor in his shoe, never without a weapon of some sort.

Furthermore, we also see that as of RS, both Weiss and Matterhorn are in Kjerag assisting Enciodes while Ensia is in Laterano on her own. It would appear that much as Gnosis left Rhodes to return home when his presence was needed, they did the same (which is notable as in Matterhorn’s oprec, Enciodes assigns him to look after Ensia full-time, but I won’t digress too much).

All of this is in line with Weiss’s previous characterization. Though perhaps the most interesting tidbit about Weiss comes not from RS itself, but rather, Gnosis’s oprec, wherein Enciodes makes a passing comment about him.

Enciodes: Matterhorn has been with me since I was little, and Weiss's situation is kind of unusual. I don't have any other friends.

This demonstrates two things: first, despite being the one who rescued him and being likely of relatively close age, Enciodes doesn’t actually consider Weiss to be a potential friend on equal footing the same way he would be with Gnosis, their distance of master and subordinate already established. This already implies potentially that Weiss came from a vassal family, but also that he was possibly orphaned and adopted into the Silverash household with the expectation of becoming their servant later on.

Second, that actually, Weiss has known Enciodes since childhood, which explains Weiss’s comment in Matterhorn’s oprec about Matterhorn being worried about Weiss ever since was little and Weiss begging for candy whenever he was hurt during training. From this, we can infer that Weiss trained ever since he was young to become Enciodes’s guard, potentially including even while he was away, and we now know via the official timeline that Enciodes spent seven years away from Kjerag. Per Weiss’s own profile and voice lines, we know his intense loyalty towards Enciodes stems from his rescue—yet I have often wondered at Weiss’s self-imposed duty to eliminate threats towards Enciodes in secret, as detailed in his module.

This is something which remains one of the biggest mysteries surrounding Weiss, and in fact what I would say is one of his most defining traits: the fact that besides being Enciodes’s personal messenger, Weiss is also his secret assassin. Weiss is very careful to allow nobody, even Enciodes, to know what he is capable of. Enciodes does not ask that Weiss go out and kill for him (though I believe he must be at least somewhat aware of it, because this is Enciodes we’re talking about), but Weiss chooses of his own volition to use violence to eliminate those who want Enciodes dead, regardless of the costs to himself. Weiss is covered in scars, all of which came from Enciodes’s potential killers, and Matterhorn’s oprec (which I should mention is post-BI) mentions that Weiss often conceals his injuries from others.

Of the three of Enciodes’s most faithful supporters (Gnosis, Degenbrecher, and Weiss), all of them are violent to varying degrees, but Weiss is the one who is explicitly highlighted as having killed, repeatedly (although the other two have as well), without a second of remorse or hesitation. I’ve wondered before what drives Weiss to such lengths—of course, knowing now that he was quite young when he was rescued, this would leave an immense impact on his psyche. As well, I would also say that Enciodes’s innate charm, especially as a child, no doubt captivated him or won him over just as it did with Gnosis.

(I’ve joked in the past that perhaps this intense loyalty could be an innate racial trait, going by the only other Itra we know and in fact Weiss’s acquaintance: Monch. Monch acts similarly towards Gnosis as Weiss acts towards Enciodes, though we lack context at the moment precisely for why, and I admit it’s a bit of a silly theory.)

We also know via Degenbrecher’s profile that Weiss was wary of her when she joined them as she essentially took his position, though now he is at ease with her (no doubt having witnessed that Degenbrecher cares deeply about Enciodes). This pushed him out of the role of bodyguard and more firmly into the position of messenger and servant, but I don’t think Weiss is the kind of person to abandon his self-appointed duty as assassin. If anything, Degenbrecher being Enciodes’s shadow would permit Weiss to engage in his secret role more freely.

Truly, I am very much looking forward to Courier’s oprec, and I hope it digs into some of the mysteries surrounding him.

#arknights #courier #arknights lore ramble

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galathogwarts · 2 years

Text

Rooting For You | Sebastian Sallow X Fem!hufflepuff Reader

Summary: Y/N Comes to wish Sebastian good luck before his quidditch match. Just fluff :)

Note: Hey everyone :) I'm in the process of writing my own fanfic and I wrote a scene I really like and wanted to share! I will probably won't publish the whole fanfic, as it is probably written badly. English I not my main language and I don't want to frusturate people with mistakes over so many chapters.

UPDATE: fanfic is now out :) you can read it here.

Again, this scene is not written perfecly, but I do hope you enjoy even if I made some mistakes. Let me know what you think <3

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Sebastian stood in the Slytherin quidditch dressing room, looking at himself in his uniform. Oh how he missed wearing the uniform - the feeling of flying, the excitement that followed after his fist wrapped around the golden little snitch, and the loud cheers from the green crowd everytime they won.

He thought he looked pretty handsome. Some will say it is very vain of him, but he liked to know the strengths and weaknesses of people, including himself. It goes without saying, he was very well aware of his weaknesses too. His tendency to lose control over his emotions, his stubbornness, his sister, Ominis, and a new additional weakness that came in a form of a bright smile and yellow uniform.

“Boo!” Sebastian jolted and met the eyes of the very weakness he was thinking about just now. He put a hand on his heart and took a deep breath.

“You frighten me!” He scolded her with a smile. It was hard not to smile when she was around. He did not have many reasons to smile lately, and he was grateful she gave him a reason to smile.

She returned him a smug look. “Ha! that will teach you! You do this to me all the time.”

He took a step closer to her and looked down at her. He grew taller this summer, and she stayed about the same. He was already pretty tall, but this summer he changed a lot. “Never took you as the petty type, Y/N. What are you doing here anyway? Came to sneak a peek at me shirtless?”

She was lost for words and red blush climbed up her cheeks. He loved teasing her and making her blush. “I-I-I most certainly did not!”

“If you say so.”

“I came to wish you goodluck.” she looked down trying to hide her blush.

He chuckled to himself. “Goodluck? You know if we win against the lions today it’s bad for you badgers? Shouldn’t you be loyal to your house?”

“Y-Yes. But I’m also loyal to my friends.” She stuttered at the start, but at the end of the sentence she lifted her chin proudly,

He took another step closer, only inches far from her. “Well, I did read somewhere that a kiss on the cheek is an exceptional charm for good luck.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and smiled, pushing him playfully. “Okay, Sallow, where would you read that?”

“I can’t tell you all my secrets now, can’t have you go around using all the luck for your own house.”

“Wow! And here I thought I was being the bigger person wishing you good luck and rooting for you to win the game.”

“You are. Thank you, Y/N. It does means a lot.”

She smiled shyly. He did it sometimes, switched between playful banter to charming compliments and all the way to heartful truths. He loved watching the surprised faces, as if they did not realize he was capable of this variety of emotions. “You are absolutely welcome. I guess I just didn’t want you to die painful death by Imelda if you lose this game.”

Sebastian laughed. “Oh, that’s charming. You are worried about me?

“You know I do, idiot!”

Her heartful truth made his heart shatter to thousand pieces. He did not deserve her kindness, her care, her love. He wanted to kiss her so bad, but he knew it would be wrong. She does not deserve to be with a guy like him, even though the thought of her being with anyone else made The Cruciatus Curse sounds appealing. He was scared of giving away his emotions. He already found himself staring at her lips and quickly brought back his gaze to her eyes.

“Anyway, goodluck Seb, I’ll be in the bleachers rooting for you.”

He felt his body filling with energy when she said those words, with a sweet smile on her lips.

“Just don’t forget to wear your ‘I heart Sebastian Sallow’ shirt.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. The thought of her wearing a shirt like this made Sebastian beam like an idiot. He was not fond of acting like an idiot, but when it came to her, it was stronger then him. He realized he did not care of being an idiot around her.

“You are unbearable.”

He laughed. “I try.”

“Well then, I’ll let you do your thing. Goodluck! See you after the game.”

She came closer and wrapped her arms around his waist. He drew her closer hoping she would not notice his heart is beating like crazy. He would give up all the Galleons in the world to stay in this moment forever. She was the light in the darkness that has been Sebastian’s life. She was his comfort, his friend, his weakness.

When she broke off the hug he sent her a smile. She turned her back to him and was about to leave when he tried to regulate his breath. Before he could exhale, she was back inches from his face and planted a tender kiss on his cheek. “Just in case, you promise to take me to honeydukes this weekend so you better survive.”

And she left. Again, he stood there like an idiot with hand on his cheek where she kissed him. He tried to savor the feeling of her lips against his cheeks, still feeling a shadow of her touch.

After a moment Imelda entered the room, examined him like a potion in a cauldron that has the wrong color.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, I am better than ever.” He smiled.

“Well then, listen to me Sebastian Sallow! We better win tonight or I’ll-“

“Don’t worry, for we are winning one hundred precents.” He smiled.

“Love the confidence, but how are you so sure?”

He smiled at her and held his cheek. “I have my lucky charm.”

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow fluff #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow oneshot

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cherry-froggie · 2 years

Text

the forgotten puppet — part 2

pairing — scaramouche/wanderer x gn!reader

notes — spoilers for the scara's story and part of sumeru's archon quest!! this will have multiple parts! not proofread btw, but i think it'll be ok !!

summary — upon discovering Scaramouche's true nature as a puppet, Il Dottore and Sandrone collaborated to create their own puppet weapon, one capable of rivaling the power of a god. and so, you were born. however, you have not lived up to their expectations. despite this, Scaramouche remains by your side, as he is familiar with the feeling of being discarded. until one day, he leaves and does not return, leaving you to wonder what occurred.

words — 2,2k

LAST CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || REQUESTS || NEXT CHAPTER

As you walked through the sterile, metallic chamber where you were first brought to life, a whirlwind of memories rushed back to you, memories that you had kept locked away in the labyrinth of your mind for so long. The machinery's deafening hum, the Harbingers' stone-cold faces looming over you like statues, the confusion, and disorientation, it all came rushing back like a tempestuous storm.

When you were first presented to the Harbingers, you were introduced as a puppet with the power to counter the strength of a god, one that could harness the power of science, visions, and delusions with ease. But the Harbingers looked upon you with suspicion and doubt, as if you were nothing more than a worthless plaything. Scaramouche was particularly disdainful of Dottore and Sandrone to create something like you. His expression twisted from disgust to anger when he learned that he would be the one in charge of training and improving you. The scientists saw it as logical, a puppet training another puppet, but Scaramouche saw you as nothing more than a thorn in his side.

Despite everything, over the course of several months, Scaramouche's attitude towards you began to change significantly after you started spending more time together and you defeated the lower-ranked Harbingers, including one of your original creators, Sandrone. She was glowing with pride for her creation, but Scaramouche found it amusing that the Fatui were being easily defeated by a new toy. The expressions on their faces, particularly Signora's, were a window into their souls. He laughed boisterously, relishing in her humiliation like a gloating victor. Unlike Signora, Childe took his defeat as an opportunity to improve himself in combat, which he did frequently when not visiting other nations of Teyvat.

However, things took a turn for the worse when it was your turn to face Scaramouche in battle. Despite weeks of training and effort, you were unable to defeat him. This solely made him feel superior at first, but gradually, it seemed like he regretted that you couldn't defeat him. You couldn't understand why he would react in such a way, until one day, during a discussion regarding your improvement in strength and combat, Scaramouche blurted out, frustrated by your lack of motivation: "You want to take me down, don't you? Well, don't expect any favors from me. I'll still be giving it my all, and I expect the same from you. And don't think for a second that Dottore and Sandrone will hold back just because they're the ones that created you. They'll discard you like a used-up tool if you're not helpful to them. So you better be ready for a fight."

It was then that the cold, hard truth hit you like a bolt from the blue: you could easily be replaced or discarded if you didn't meet their expectations. And clearly, you weren't meeting them. They were giving you one last chance to prove yourself, and the weight of that realization felt like an anchor dragging you down. Your chest felt like it was being cleaved by a sword, and you felt a searing pain like nothing you had ever felt before. And then, to your surprise, you found yourself shedding tears for the first time, overwhelmed with fear and horror at the thought of death and what would happen to you. The puppet next to you looked at you with regret engraved across his face as if he was a reflection of your own emotion. He knew exactly the shock and terror that he had created inside of you, as he had gone through it himself.

He stayed by your side for the rest of the day, until he was sure you had calmed down and the troubling thought was banished from your mind. Eventually, he even apologized for his harsh words, it took him a few days to summon the courage to say it, but he did, and he was sincere. He confided in you about his past, how he had been discarded once before, and didn't want you to suffer the same fate.

His words were like a ray of hope piercing through the darkness of your fear and uncertainty. He became your guide and mentor, leading you through the treacherous waters of the Harbingers' expectations, helping you to hone your skills and powers like a blacksmith shaping a sword.

But despite your progress, the pressure to succeed and prove yourself to the Harbingers never relented, it was like a noose around your neck, ever-tightening. The thought of being discarded and replaced was always looming in the back of your mind like an ominous cloud. You knew that you could never let your guard down, you had to always strive to be better, to be the perfect puppet.

As the hours passed by, he stood vigilant by your side, a steadfast companion, until the storm of uncertainty and fear in your mind had dissipated. He offered a sincere apology after mustering the courage to face his own remorse, and it was evident he was speaking with heart. He opened up about his past, relaying the experience of being discarded, and his wish for you not to suffer the same fate.

The revelation took you aback, however, he refused your pity. The looming fear of obsolescence and rejection remained a constant shadow, hanging over you, always present in your mind. You couldn't shake off the thought that this was the turning point, the moment your creators would discard you as well. But no, these changes were to transform you into something new, something more.

You were forced back to reality when you found yourself restrained to what looked like a surgical table with strings binding you in place. The last thing you heard before you were shut down was The Marionette's voice, "This might take a while, but time will fly by for you." and you were plunged into the never-ending darkness, cut off from the world, isolated in a cocoon of silence.

As Scaramouche regained consciousness, he found himself in unfamiliar surroundings. The sun was shining brightly, streaming through the windows and illuminating the room with its warm glow. He was surrounded by new walls and unique furniture, but he could not remember how he had gotten there. Still, the presence by his side was familiar, it was the small Dendro Archon, sitting on a chair, her small legs gracefully swinging forward and back. The creature's gaze upon him felt like an eternity, as if she had been scrutinizing his every move for an unknown amount of time. He couldn't shake off the feeling of vulnerability that washed over him and instinctually tried to back away, hitting the wall behind him as he adopted a defensive stance, ready to defend himself from any potential threat.

The small being's presence was like a silent judge, observing his every move, every flinch, every reaction, and Scaramouche felt exposed like his weaknesses and fears were laid bare.

The Archon smiled warmly at him, raising her hands in a peaceful gesture. "Relax, I'm not going to fight you," she reassured him, but he remained wary and on guard.

Despite her peaceful gestures, Scaramouche's mind was a labyrinth of doubts and fears, like a maze with no exit. He felt like he was standing on a cliff's edge, one wrong step and he would fall into the abyss. He knew he was much weaker than before, that there was no one to come to his aid in this strange place, and that he was facing an opponent far more capable than him.

The Archon noticed his fear and took a few steps back, trying to create some distance between them to make him feel more comfortable. "Do you remember anything before you collapsed? Do you know where you are?" she asked with curiosity and a hint of worry in her voice.

Scaramouche shook his head, denying that he knew where he was, but as the memories of the past came flooding back, Scaramouche felt like a ship adrift on a stormy sea, tossed and turned by the waves, with no direction and no port in sight. He couldn't shake off the feeling of betrayal like Dottore had thrown him away like a used toy, and he couldn't help but wonder what fate awaited him. After the failed experimentation, Dottore had fled like a coward, back to the safety of his homeland and the organization he was once part of, leaving Scaramouche to face the wrath of Buer alone. The thought of Dottore returning to the Tsarista, to the safety and comfort of home, was like a knife twist in his heart that cut through him. The thought of Dottore returning to you, to throw you out into the vast cold and cruel scenery of Snezhnaya, was like a punch to the gut.

He couldn't bear the thought of you going through the same fate as him. He felt a sense of responsibility and guilt, but he did not know what to do.

With the sound of closing footsteps, Nahida woke Scaramouche back to reality. "Let's make a contract, shall we? I do not desire to turn you a foe, it appears you've already had enough backstabbings, and I'm certain you're knowledgeable about the fact that your power has mostly dissipated by now." She gifted him with the smile a mother would give their child, one that would let them understand that everything was going to be okay. "There is some information I need to uncover inside Irminsul, and I would appreciate it if you could help me. I will offer you my protection while in Sumeru, so you need not worry about the other Harbingers."

He did not react, remaining as quiet as one can be. His gaze kept growing ever more perplexed and interested with each moment that passed, every second that ticked on the clock on top of the bedside table resounded through his mind as if there were nothing he could focus on and get direct answers to.

"It seems I may have come a bit too soon. I will leave you alone with your thoughts for a while, please be sure to tell me when you're ready," she stated, before stepping out of the chamber and quietly shutting the aged wooden entrance.

How could he have left you? Especially after vowing that you would flee from that dark and hellish dungeon that could break you in the blink of an eye and leave you defenseless. He was familiar with that sensation of loneliness so well, one that had engulfed and altered him into what he is today. He had more than 500 years to get accustomed to it and to understand how to confront it in his way, but you had not even caught sight of most of the magnificence of the outside, the warm sunshine, the lush towering trees, the colorful blossoms or the unquestioning love of a creator. How dare they even consider doing such a thing to a being so youthful? One that resembled him so much? Were you nothing more than their toy? That idea wouldn't even shock him, someone as heartless as The Doctor and as cold as The Marionnette certainly would never comprehend the feeling of being thrown around battle after battle, only to be told you could be flawless if you were different.

As nightfall approached, the puppet settled to admire the sight of Sumeru City being elucidated with the soft glow of the moon on top of the room he was in. He saw as the children still played together after such long hours and their parents would come to pick them up, so innocent, with their minds never reaching the thought that things could ever change, when the fact is that change is the only constant in life. For better or worst, nature refused to keep itself still, yet that plays a bigger part in its beauty.

"You look troubled." He quickly turned his head to see who it was that had dared to disturb him, and there was no surprise when he saw the small female standing behind him, inviting herself to take a seat by his side. "What is it that is troubling you?"

He let out a weak chuckle, glancing down at the intricate tiles that formed the magnificent work of the roof, "Can one not just relish the Sumeru's sky?"

"Of course, you can." She shifted her gaze from the moon to him. "So, have you considered my deal?"

"Yes," Irminsul. A tree that is said to be bonded to the Ley Lines of Teyvat and directly to the Dendro Archon's consciousness. It holds knowledge that it recorded for thousands of years, a bottomless sea of endless wisdom, one where anyone brave enough to enter could effortlessly get lost. It was the most promising method for him to learn what had happened to you without having to go through the danger of going through snow and ice. If the only constant of life was change, then he would be the one to alter the fate Sandrone and Dottore had prepared for you. "I will help you with the information you need. But I'd like to request something in return."

LAST CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || REQUESTS || NEXT CHAPTER

part 3 will be coming soon! it will also probably be the last chapter, so i hope it is up to everyone's expectations!!

tysm for reading and pushing me to write more!! i love you all!!

this is definitely not proofread, but i'm really tired, so I'll try my best to read it and correct anything tomorrow!!

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kazamajun · 2 months

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Scorpio Rising

Pairing: Jun Kazama x Kazuya Mishima

Content warning: Sexual content (18+ only), monster/devilfucking (kind of), cunnilingus

Synopsis: An AU wherein Kazuya goes straight to Yakushima from Italy, arriving there before everyone else, and reunites with his wife in his brand new form. Character study and NSFW. Canon compliant up until T8 main story chapter 8. Includes references to personal headcanons and theories regarding T2 events.

Word count: 6k

Ao3 version: Link

Kazuya Mishima does not believe in destiny.

He had always scorned the concept of fate, the idea that the course of his life could be up to the whims of some intangible force and not something built with his own hands. His to determine.

Thus when all the pieces of his plan fell into place with ease, he derived satisfaction from the knowledge that it was entirely due his own meticulousness.

Jin Kazama had unleashed Azazel by generating strife, and emulating those the same circumstances had been a simple enough thing to enact. The endgame of course, weakening the seal enough to tear Azazel from the flimsy prison of that woman's arm. Upon being freed, the beast had been cocky, unwarrantedly so due to the ease with which it was vanquished - now for a second time - and absorbed by Kazuya. Once taking on the resulting new form he had swiftly adjusted to the devil's power, surely a sign that it was always meant to be in his hands.

Those who stood against Kazuya now in The Colosseum were no match for him, and they knew it. Their defiance was, at most, merely an inconvenience to him. Even that ambitious exorcist. Immobilizing the devil temporarily was brave, but insufficient, as was that giant glowing arrow of his. Despite all those flashy aesthetics no meaningful pain is inflicted, Kazuya has taken and withstood much worse and from stronger individuals in the past. Though, there is a breaking of skin at his shoulder which triggers something internally, as if Azazel sensed some weakness or an escape route to seep out of Kazuya's body. Unbidden, roiling purple smoke seeps from the wound like sand from a cracked hourglass. Kazuya barely has time to register it before his muscles violently convulse with the force of the consumed demon rebelling inside him. Wrenching from within, it feels like Azazel is trying to turn him inside out. A unique agony.

Loath as he is to leave an enemy alive, Kazuya is forced to evaluate the merits of a tactical retreat. None of those before him are truly a threat and fighting any further would simply soak up time that could be applied to a better purpose, and forcing Azazel into stillness is of a greater priority. The rest will be dealt with later. Steeling his willpower and testing the full capacity of his new wingspan, Kazuya leaves. His goal here has been accomplished to its fullest extent, and this knowledge soothes any potential dent to his ego caused by abandoning the fight. Mentally he is already compartmentalizing the pain and turning over the next court of action to take. For a fleeting moment he considers returning to G Corporation to recover and get a SITREP, but the notion is dismissed just as quickly. Nina is no friend of his, not like her sister, but she is a professional who can be trusted as far as she finds the compensation to be adequate. His forces are in capable hands until her contract ends. Finding a way to quell Azazel and cement his new power is foremost in his mind. The original devil is putting up a far stronger fight against being assimilated than his own devil had, which was to be expected, and he has come far enough now that averting unnecessary risks is tantamount. There had to be a way to subdue it until it fully became a part of him. With this decided, there was only one natural conclusion to draw.

The Kazama shrine.

Kazuya is no stranger to this lineage's powers. He had met Jun Kazama during the second tournament and been fascinated by her strength and uniqueness. Eventually he consented to her temporarily suppressing his devil, a decision that - unforeseen by both of them - had cost him the edge he needed to defeat his father. Back then, youthful hubris had him believe he could kill Heihachi with nothing but his fists and long-kindled rage, but Kazuya has learned a lot since. Power is power, no matter the source, and every possible advantage had been needed to ensure that he put that old man down for good. Training, strategy, and the strength in the Hachijo blood passed down from his mother, Kazumi. When he had finally defeated Heihachi, it almost felt like she had been with him. Kazuya is not a spiritual man, but some small piece of him likes to think that vengeance has brought peace to Kazumi’s soul.

Jun had mentioned her family's ancestral shrine once, that it was the centre of sacred land that in itself was a nexus for power. At the time Kazuya had thought little of the information but it could serve him now. If he were to claim that for himself and use it to suppress Azazel's will as his body adapts to the absorption, he would achieve complete mastery of the devil's full potential with minimal risk.

—

The flight to Yakushima is long and truthfully, Kazuya has no idea what he is looking for but feels he will know it when he sees it. His senses have been expanded beyond anything he had ever possessed before and once the island comes into view there is a noticeable change in energy flow, even the trees themselves hold a measure of unique energy now discernable through the new awareness granted to him, and he is certain this was the right decision. Flying overhead the canopies he focuses on what he can sense, glaring down through the boughs until something catches his attention. A trace of that unmistakable thrum of the Kazama lineage. Jun often kept her aura suppressed as a form of training and so as not to intimidate wildlife or any spiritually sensitive humans, but on occasion she had let that guard drop around him and even all these years later he'd never forgotten the sensation of her presence. What he was searching for had to be here.

He swoops down through the trees carelessly, following that feeling like a beacon. It leads him to a passage whose exterior is adorned with shimenawa and the inside is an oddly serene place; Yakushima in its entirety feels remote and alien to one like himself who prefers the comfort and convenience human civilization has to offer, but this area seems particularly untouched even in comparison to its surroundings. Almost as if it were frozen in time. He feels power coursing beneath his feet and in the walls and vines. Nature has either reclaimed or perhaps coexisted alongside what remained of this area for a long time now, but it is unnaturally quiet. It is fascinating, even Hon-Maru had no such energy coalescence and it makes him all the more determined to find the source.

A white bird flutters into view and flies down a nearby hole in the ground and, with little else but instinct to guide him, Kazuya pursues this strange sign of life emerging from the silence. The bird appears to share his destination - the shrine's altar comes into view, but what is more surprising than this spontaneous guidance is the figure laying there; bioluminescent surroundings, stray motes of mysterious light and a stray shaft of sunshine simultaneously shrouding and highlighting the motionless form with a mysterious radiance.

He had figured this place empty and forgotten, and watches with unconcealed surprise as the bird makes contact and merges with the one upon the altar, who then gasps like someone previously drowning taking their first breath of air after breaching the surface.

This could not be real.

The form of Jun Kazama slowly stirs after some heaving breaths, sitting up from her previously supine position on the plant-laden slab. With innate grace she turns to slide her legs to hang off the altar's edge while she remains seated, visibly taking a moment to recover from her prior unconsciousness.

"Impossible." Kazuya remarks aloud, though more to himself than anyone else. To think she could have been here this whole time... it is difficult to process. Absurd. And yet, it is a consistent reality manifested in front of him, observed by every single one of his multiple eyes as he drinks in the vision. He feels strangely unmoored by this tableau he bears witness to until Jun raises her chin and looks at him. Meeting that familiar gaze causes an odd twisting in his chest, this time one utterly unrelated to his current predicament with Azazel, and which only intensifies once she speaks.

"Kazuya," Jun breathes, both at the surprise of seeing him at her awakening, and shock at the form he is in. "What have you done to yourself?" She has seen his devil form before, and it was never like this. The tail, eye embedded in his chest, along with various ridges and hard crystalline facets that emulate armour are all new, forming a more imposing silhouette; and while his features and voice are recognizable enough they too have been altered, taking on a more inhuman edge. His aura is different too. Still, she knows it is him, the same way she has always known him.

It does not surprise him that Jun's instinct is to challenge and question. It would not be her if she didn't. She wields her sincerity like a form of strength and it's something Kazuya welcomes, for it is assurance that this is real. And the difference in how he appears now makes it a fair query. He feels indomitable now, and with such strength comes boundless freedom and possibility. "I have become who I was always meant to be." A statement he delivers with confidence and pride, backed with the full weight of belief. The power of devils was his birthright, his to claim alongside anything else that is within his ability to grasp. That is the natural order of the world, and to be left with nothing is for the weak.

Jun's gaze narrows slightly and for a moment appears unfocused, as if she were seeing right through him. Something she had seemingly been adept at doing since they had first met. But, being laid bare in front of one you trust is not shameful. Thus Kazuya does not shy away from her scrutiny, and Jun is able to discern that he is not alone, not truly. There is something inside him roiling and raging to be freed. Not his innate devil who he had a tug-of-wills with all those years ago. This, this is something distinctly new and vastly more powerful. Directness is part of her nature, so Jun further presses with gentle concern. "And that… passenger of yours?"

It is entirely unsurprising to him that she was able to sense Azazel, given the abilities displayed back when their lives were first interwoven. Abilities that Kazuya knows she would have continued to refine in the years beyond, as he has with his own. Discovering that she lives has invoked a mix of emotions that Kazuya forces himself to shove down, to be pragmatic and prioritize. It is clear now that the power he sensed earlier was not merely a trace remnant of the Kazama lineage's spiritual energy but Jun herself - though this does not alter his goals and may in fact serve them all the better than attempting to suppress Azazel alone. "It is a matter I have faith you can assist with, as you tried similar once before." Kazuya approaches where she is seated and takes one of her gloved hands between his own with great care, consciously ensuring his talons are not at risk of grazing her. It had been over 20 years since their last contact, and the touch is surprising with how natural it feels. As if his fingers curled around hers was simply how they were meant to be. A strange feeling. He raises her hand to press it palm-first against his chest. "It is the progenitor of devils, Azazel. If you can purge its consciousness, only I shall remain."

The Kazama clan have not been exorcists in generations, not in the commonly understood sense of the word. They preserved harmony and sought only to defend, rather than engaging directly in the hunting of anything supernatural. Still, there had been oral histories passed down about the origins of devils and their singular root, an entity creating servants for itself to carry out its wishes. An irony that one such supposed 'servant' would surpass that creature itself. Though, if anyone were to be capable of such, Jun reckons, of course it would be Kazuya.

The feel of his hand and chest are so different from that of the calloused fingers and firm skin inhabiting her memories. And while his torso retains the same basic musculature and distinctive scar beneath, the demonic shell prevents Jun from being able to feel his heartbeat - something unsurprising and yet a slight disappointment. In the past it had often been a comforting pulse. Perhaps this form felt the need for his heart to be more heavily guarded.

And despite it all, he is still so familiar. It is a little jarring that so much could change and yet stay the same, something that transcends the purely physical; Kazuya himself is like a lightning strike - unpredictable, fleeting, yet forever altering what it touches. Growing to love him changed her, an affection and truth that has endured all these years. And so, he has asked for her aid with unquestioning trust, and she will provide. It is as simple and as complicated as that. Jun looks from where he planted her hand, where she is now touching contemplatively with splayed fingers, back up to his eyes again, and gives an affirming nod. She is confident in her ability to fulfil his request, empowered here in this sacred place.

"It will hurt." Kazuya does not fear pain, she knows this, but imparts the warning nonetheless. A small grunt of acknowledgement as Kazuya braces himself is all Jun waits for before calling upon every piece of purifying power she can muster, maintaining a razor-sharp focus to sear and eliminate Azazel's consciousness from existence without harming Kazuya more than necessary.

How long it takes is something neither of them could define, other than to say a duration that pushes them both close to their limits. Even with her unparalleled concentration it still feels like a sun being forced between his ribs, blossoming light burning with a ferocity akin to holy fire immolating every nerve ending for dilating moments that stretch out intolerably… until finally, it stops. Jun's hand falls away, and Kazuya sags forward unintentionally in the aftermath of the spiritual cauterization, from both the agony and catharsis. Their faces hover dangerously close and linger, both of them breathing slightly harder from the exertion and endurance, respectively. For a moment they share one breath. Jun looks into his crimson eyes, first the main pair then the third one in the centre of his brow, as if searching for something.

Kazuya leans back, seemingly oblivious to the scrutiny, rolling his neck and turning his focus inward as his eyes close. Where there once had been Azazel's rebelling and twisting sentience waging internal war against captivity… he now feels only silence. Upon this confirmation he reopens them, satisfied.

Jun gently touches his shoulder, her fingers skirting the edge of what she notes to be a freshly-healed wound there. She knows her task is done and his expression verifies it. "So, what now?" The world has moved on for seven years without her, and while she knows their shared affections have entwined them in a manner that is not subject to time's whims, the man before her is a mystery in ways beyond his physical form. The Kazuya she'd known was from decades prior, and people change under the irrevocable march of years.

"I was told you had died." Kazuya utters once his breathing evens out. The words carry a current of disdain. A ridiculous notion, that she could have been slain by the same creature that had taken out other - in his eyes, inferior - martial artists. But, she had vanished without a trace and the boy genuinely believed her dead. Knowing Jun as he does, Kazuya was aware she would not voluntarily have left Jin alone; nor sent him to Kazuya's own monster of a father had there been any alternative. Thus, he had accepted the news for truth and with no small measure of grief, albeit channeled into violence before being buried deep and smoothed over with a topsoil of simmering rage. Heihachi and his men had awakened the cursed thing, set off that whole chain of events and robbed Kazuya of a loved one for the third time. Or so he’d thought. Now that the more immediate danger was over and there actually was time to process it all, to reconcile the fact that something he'd believed for so long was actually untrue, has Kazuya more shaken and in need of answers than he cares to outwardly admit. His wings flare slightly with agitation.

"I almost did." Jun replies with an open honesty. Recalling the sensation of being close to death was far from pleasant, but divulging the memory is a necessity, she knows. "Calling upon the power in this place I defeated the ogre that attacked us, but it had fatally wounded me in turn. The voice of my ancestors guided me here to rest, and I was kept from death until I could heal." The mystical protection is not something Jun herself fully comprehends. She had trusted in where the sound of her family's lullaby led her, and it is how she survived. Perhaps it did not need to be more deeply understood than that. Her hand raises from Kazuya's shoulder to lay along his cheek. Even armoured as it is with demonic cartilage, his bone structure is still familiar and the feel of him soothes something in her. And it seems to be reciprocated, as it is impossible to miss the way he ever so slightly tilts his head and leans in to the touch, his disconcertment slowly ebbing.

For Kazuya it is a strange thing to be cared about so openly. To have one so dedicated to you yet who asks for nothing in return. Even all these years later, Jun's first act had been for his welfare, and done without question. It causes an ache, tugging at that carefully compartmentalized sense of loss where all these years without her had resided. One of his hands comes to rest over the top of her one gracing his cheek, lingering there briefly before he gently lifts her hand away and just below the hem of her glove he presses a small kiss to her bare wrist in wordless response and acknowledgement of her selflessness.

"Kazuya…" Jun has seen visions of the atrocities committed in their time apart, and she is not blind to the flaws in the man she has chosen to love. Life has been cruel to him, and this made him cruel to the world. A defensive coldness and closed-off nature cultivated for survival. But she has also seen his honesty. How he honours his word. His capacity for loyalty. The way that cold nature could melt under the warmth of understanding and patience. How he challenged her and was her match, in the way only a true counterpart can be. All these things and more are what earned her love all those years ago, and are why she chooses to have faith in him now. "I only left Tokyo when I knew you weren't coming back. 'til then, I waited, and only returned home once I knew I was alone. But I never left you. Not even after we were parted." Physical separation, be it distance or death, was incidental and involuntary. In both the spiritual and emotional sense he had always been in her heart, was the last person she thought of before succumbing to the lull of otherworldly sleep in this place.

Kazuya would not say he suspected or hoped for as much, someone as captivating as Jun could easily have moved on if she wished. It is heartening to hear, and her sentiments echo his own. It was either Jun, or no one. She is singular, her uniqueness and strength equalled only by her capacity for compassion. While he had never quite grasped why he should be the recipient of it, it was a gift cherished and not to be squandered. "I would have you at my side again - if you will have me." The words are stilted; the ability to express tender emotions had never come easily as he had been raised to see sentiment as weakness; cold rage being the only thing that allowances were made for. But here he is doing his best to be sincere, even if it comes off as formal.

There is nothing she wants more in this world. But still, one last thing remained. “I… felt you die, Kazuya. When your heart stopped, I knew.”Her admission is like a vulnerability, revealing an old wound. Something unspoken, but nonetheless carried all this time. In that moment two decades ago she had felt the true fragility of their planned future, the speculated idealism of how things would be once he was finally free of the threat of his father. It had shattered and slipped through her fingers back then. Which leaves a hanging question in this current moment. “When you were brought back, why did you never seek me out?”

The answers to this are myriad, and ultimately; meaningless. It had been a mistake on his part, one fueled by selfishness and fear. Kazuya is silent for a long moment, giving the question the consideration it deserves and his tone is low when he finally speaks. “The version of me you loved, was a man you thought could be redeemed.” He is not saying this to hurt her, nor does he believe she carries any illusions to be shattered. Kazuya can tell she knows his sins, and has seen right through him yet her eyes still hold that same unconditional affection. Such deserves nothing less than full candor. “Dying and being dragged back taught me one thing — if I was to finally kill Heihachi, I had to dedicate myself to it in a way that left no room for anything else in my life. Or so I once believed. And I justified it with the notion that when that was done, I would find you and see if you could still care for the man I had become.” The words sound foolish to him now, far too idealistically simple. He had gone in the complete opposite direction to his overconfident prior self, but still been equally naïve in both cases. “Then I got the news you had been killed. The rest, I presume you know. This path I have walked has left me beyond redemption. It is not something I desire. But you—”

Jun unintentionally silences him by interlacing her fingers though his and gripping his hand firmly. The gesture was meant to be reassuring, though perhaps it is that very assurance that serves to derail him. “I never wanted you to change for me, Kazuya. Who you are is for you to decide; not me, and not your past. All I wish for is for us to have a future.” Another squeeze, and therein lies her answer to him. “Consider yourself warned that I will not accept being parted from you again.” Sincerity is in her words, her touch, as both of her hands rise to cradle his face. Thumbs sweep softly across his cheekbones, conveying her wholehearted embracing through firm statement of fact coupled with gentle caress. Touching this new form of his is novel, all glittering edges, subcutaneous glow, and textures varying from smooth crystalline and firm carapace to rough edges and then to more conventionally human-like skin. She had embraced his original devil all those years ago, and while the change with that transformation was far less drastic, appreciating this new one was no hardship. He is spectacular, and what matters the most is knowing the man she adores is in there. That he is fully in control. "I have been without you for long enough." As if to punctuate the point, Jun removes her gloves, both a symbolic and literal removal of barriers; the need to touch without obstruction.

Kazuya welcomes the contact, allowing her to explore the new facets of him with her hands, content with the gentle affection and the soft awe in her stunning eyes. He settles for merely resting his hands upon her waist, content to slowly re-acquaint himself with the feel of her in his arms. The touches are a chaste enough exploration though tenderness soon awakens a longing that turns to desire. And how foreign it is for Kazuya to feel a desire unconnected to the urge for power or ownership. For this is a giving freely of the self, not a subjugation. The yearning that sings in his veins is echoed in her own and, leaning in to each other, their lips meet in a motion as inevitable and natural as the tides being drawn by the moon. The rest of the world seems to fade away as they give in to what feels like a personal gravity centred on them both alone. His arms snake around her waist to grip more tightly while her own entwine around his neck, anchoring him between her legs and pulled flush against her, with barely space to breathe between them. Much like the rest of him, Kazuya's lips have a slightly different feel in this form and the kisses are at first gently exploratory too, as if reacquainting oneself with something long thought lost. The familiar and the new combining with a heart-aching seamlessness.

When they pause to catch their breath, he raises a clawed hand to thread through her hair. It is much longer than it ever was before, and suits her. Though she would be stunningly beautiful regardless. Jun impulsively gives the corner of his mouth a languid kiss in response. “Unfortunate that I cannot return the gesture.” Her fingertips tapping the side of his head punctuate the point; for in this form his hair has been replaced with crystal ridges. Beautiful to look at, but more troublesome to grasp than his usual slicked-back style she had taken great pleasure in ruining the perfection of in the past. Kazuya smirks and kisses her again. Her moments of playful irreverence were endearing and have been sorely missed… along with everything else. The feel of her is intoxicating, compelling in how it fills a void he’d been able to convince himself until now was not present. Whereas for Jun, she had acknowledged his absence, held onto it as tightly as they hold each other now, refusing to let go of or deny what they'd meant to each other and unwilling to seek or settle for any pale echo of their connection. There was nothing to be gained from lying to oneself, in her view. It is perhaps this emotional honesty and spurning of denial that leads Jun to take control of the kiss, leaning up into him and assertively parting her lips, inviting in his tongue which she seeks out with her own. It is a delicate and slow dance, balancing passion with caution due to those fangs of his. The need for such precise care despite their growing desire only further heightens the mutual arousal, and when they break apart the second time both are trembling, breathing hard, drowning in emotions and sensations not felt for decades.

Jun barely has time to breathe his name before his mouth is on her neck, kissing and sucking, teeth grazing the delicate skin ever so carefully. The tilt of her head to expose more of herself to him and her soft gasps of pleasure are all the invitation he needs to work his way down to her shoulder until obstructed by her collar. A situation somewhat remedied by how swiftly she undoes her top two buttons, offering up her throat and more to her beloved with a carefree abandon. It is all too easy to get lost in the moment, in the taste of her skin, the fluttering pulse that betrays her racing heart, and the siren song of her gentle sighs. Provoking such reactions from her even still after all this time stokes his desire, this affirmation of want. It draws a noise from him of longing and frustration that he half-smothers against her collarbone. This seemingly insatiable appetite for her would be the death of him.

Kazuya is not the only one reeling from the reigniting of a flame long thought guttered out from absence. Cravings that were once deadened to a dull ache surface in full force. And, never the type to be overly passive, Jun unfastens the next two buttons, the fabric of her top hanging open and only held together by the belt around her waist. The mixture of her need to be touched and the exposure of her skin to the cool air makes her shiver and pull Kazuya closer, arms winding around his waist until her fingers meet at the ridges of his spine and trace downward 'til it flattens out into the base of his tail.

He shudders visibly at the touch.

"Kazuya…?"

Rather than respond with words, he attacks her neck with a renewed fervor, lightly palming one of her breasts and she arches her back to press even more firmly into his hand. They have both needed this, are capable of feeling little other than the intense mutual need to wrap around each other and be one. His kisses move lower, igniting a heated trail down her chest until he pauses, groans her name, and his claws move to caress her thighs, tracing up and down with a careful slowness. The control is admirable and he always had been careful with her, even moreso than she was with him; having often left her mark in the throes of passion.

Anchored between her legs like this and lowered almost to his knees, it is obvious to Jun what he desires even without it being stated aloud. His mouth was once well-practiced in pleasuring her, yet he does not say anything directly, as if it would be requesting a boon he does not deserve.

And gods did her body respond to his need. Heat floods her cheeks, throat, and pools lower to intensify the slowly growing ache that had begun to form in her since their lips touched. "Please," she invites, shifting a little in an attempt to figure the logistics of how to remove her shoes and clothing while Kazuya remains between her legs, though it seemingly needn't have been a concern as he soon realizes what she is attempting to do and thoughtfully helps her slip off the socks and shoes. Leggings and underwear are the next to go, moving in place to push them down while seated and likewise he assists again in sliding them down her legs. The stone is still cold against her bare skin despite how long she has been here, though the shiver running through her has little to do with the temperature.

His hands find her again, and this time his palms gliding along the bared skin from hips to her knees draws a shaky exhale from Jun's lips. Kazuya takes his time, appreciating the feel of her, indulging himself by relishing the moment. It has been far too long. Gently he parts her legs further, still moving slowly. It feels like the world is holding its breath in this place, and he does not wish to hurry. In fact he does not even begin to lower himself to his knees until Jun makes a small noise and telltale anticipatory tremble.

He had memorized her body once. Unlike his own, hers has not been scarred and ravaged by hardships but there are still subtle changes that marked the passage of time. A beautiful thing, he would never wish for her to be stagnant. Kazuya presses a kiss to her leg just above the side of her knee, gentle at first though getting firmer as he lazily works his way up her inner thigh. After getting close he deigns to give a gentle teasing bite then switches over and repeats the motion to her other leg. It draws a soft groan from her - while appreciative of his tenderness it is still a mild frustration to draw out what they both want. Jun utters his name quietly but he continues his willful meandering of soft kisses and light graze of fang with an indulgent stubbornness until it draws forth a “Kazuya, please.”

Satisfied at the vocalized desire, Kazuya shifts his attentions and gives a languid stroke of his tongue that just barely parts her folds. With an equally unhurried pace he works his way up to her clit, giving that delicate area the same slow stroke but then following it up with a kiss. Her body spasms and Jun cries out, grasping one of his horns with a hand to steady herself.

Three querying red eyes look up at her to gauge if he should stop, and Jun shakes her head. "I'm just a bit sensitive. It's been a long time." Reassured, Kazuya returns to the task. Her grip on his horn remains and Kazuya finds that he enjoys the pressure, and likewise it was ceding a measure of control to her; permitting her leverage to control his movement. The trust involved in such a thing heightens the intimacy and serves to make him crave her more. The taste and scent of her, every soft sound she makes.

Impulsively he shifts his wings to allow for her knees to be thrown over his shoulders, tilting her thighs up and farther apart. This draws a small gasp from her and she grips the horn even tighter while also placing her other hand behind her to brace herself. Kazuya barely waits for her recovery and buries his face between her legs again, returning to his leisurely ministrations.

Jun has never been an overly vocal lover but he can read the mannerisms of her body language like a well-studied book. The delicate flush on her neck, the way her legs tremble, every small shift in breathing. Non-verbal responses are his guide and he pays rapt attention. The wetness of her arousal is an indicator he savours in particular and after judging it sufficient he works his tongue inside her with the same gentle patience.

She gasps and lightly shivers, having gone untouched for so long the stimulation is extra intense. The feel of his tongue is incredible, stroking her walls and dimly she realizes the sensations are much stronger and go far deeper than his tongue was ever able to reach before. A side benefit of this new demonic form perhaps? It curls and writhes inside her, intensifying the heat and pleasure. All these years without him had left her wanting, a yearning for both the physical and emotional fulfillment that only he can give and now she takes it all, wordlessly asking for more.

Kazuya lets out a deep appreciative sound somewhere between a moan and a growl as he savours her taste. The vibration shoots straight to her clit and has her seeing stars, almost hitting her peak. "Kazuya…" The uttering of his name spurs him on, and he begins to fuck her more insistently with his tongue. His grip on her thighs tightens when he senses her drawing close to the edge, and when she reaches that crescendo with a gentle tremble and moan he slows down but does not stop entirely, gently continuing through her climax.

After cresting that high she feels like in her twenties again, love-drunk and half dazed from the rush of crossing multiple precipices and taboos. They hold each other in the tender aftermath until Jun lets go of the embrace first, finally coming back to herself enough to feel the discomfort of bare flesh on stone that was never intended for such activities. She dresses herself slowly, as if wanting to linger in the moment and not fully ready to let go of it.

#nsft #my writing #au: scorpio rising #jun kazama #kazuya mishima #kazjun #kazujun #sorry if you read this already but i'm reposting for those without an ao3 account since that version is locked to users only due to bots!!

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