#anyway. throws this out there and then wanders away into the abyss

[pestilentbrood]

will you still love me, once i've given up?

[ghoulfriendfangs]

Febuwhump 23 - “Let Me Be Nice to You Just Because”

Day Six: “Kind Words” with Wanderer (Genshin Impact)

You try to comfort your traveling companion after a severe injury, but he doesn’t exactly make it easy for you.

{WC: ~1,600} {Wanderer x reader, but could be read as platonic or romantic, traveler!reader, injury, body horror}

@febuwhump

  “Let me see that arm,” you tried, starting off in a soothing and warm tone. You’ll try honey before you try vinegar.

  Wanderer gripped his sleeve, covering the arm in question as he turned away from you. “It’s fine- nothing worth stopping over. We need to get out of here.”

  Bullshit. Both of you knew the risk of going this deep in the abyss- how even a minor injury could snowball into near death. Even for someone as resilient as the Wanderer, it wasn’t worth risking his life to save face.

  Especially considering what had happened.

  Your heart still feels like it’s been struck by lightening. You felt a new kind of powerlessness when the lawchurl suddenly grabbed him out of the air by the arm, sending torrents of electricity through your companion. He threw him across the chamber like a rag doll- and he struck the wall, sinking to the floor like a discarded toy. He didn’t move- you had thought for a moment you lost him- but now the lawchurl’s attention was on you and you had to fight for both of your lives.

  By the time you staggered- exhausted but with only superficial wounds and covered in the beast’s blood- over to your traveling companion, he had returned to consciousness. You know for a fact the impact knocked him unconscious because he was wiping his eyes. You know he still cries in his sleep. He recovered inhumanly quickly, coming to his feet and rushing over to you. You watches his eyes flicker over your body- not doing a good job at all of hiding his concern. That’s when you noticed the way his left arm was hanging limply.

  Back in the present, you tried some not so subtle tactics.

  “Wanderer I swear to the Gods that if you don’t show me your arm…”

  “We’re in the Abyss- the Gods aren’t listening.”

  “Wanderer!”

  “It’s not Important.”

  “That’s your arm! ‘Oooh it’s not important’ you cast spells with that arm!”

  He looks at you with a surprised, detached expression. His lips contort into an awful scowl. “I assure you, this isn’t going to interfere with our expedition.” His words are cold, robotic, rehearsed. “I can keep fighting- there’s no need to reprimand me.”

  “No- no that’s not what I meant. That’s not what this is about- I don’t care if you can fight or not!”

  He won’t make eye contact with you. You try again.

  “I’m worried that my closest friend is hurt.”

  That surprises him- he looks up at you with poorly disguised shock. He laughs.

  “You know, it’s just the two of us down here. I wasn’t kidding about the Gods not hearing you- and I’m certainly not going to judge you for making the most optimal decisions. You don’t have to put on a morality play… I ruined your whole treasure hunt. It’s only expected that you’d be angry with me for my failure.”

  “There’s always going to be more treasure- but there’s not going to be another you.”

  “Wow, that’s.. actually disgustingly sappy. Please- I’d rather you be blunt with me if the alternative is so saccharine. What’s are you, a bard?”

  “Then how’s this- Nahida and I practically had to dig you out of Irmunsul and I’m not letting you throw it away over a fucking lawchurl.”

  He laughs- still forced, but more real than the one before (he rarely really laughs). “See? Doesn’t that feel a lot better?” He finally turns so you can see his arm. “It’s not like your words are gonna hurt me, anyways.”

  Something is wrong.

  Whatever has happened is covered by his sleeve- but already your stomach is sick. His arm is… hanging lower than it should be- and at an odd angle. At first, you think he’s pulled his elbow out of socket or something. Maybe his shoulder. He lets you pull up his sleeve- and flinches as you jump in shock.

  His arm is shattered above the elbow. Shattered. The space between the curve of his arm and his shoulder is just splintered- it looks like teeth or a cracked geode. If you peer into the wound (is that even the right word) you can see some sort of cable or rope. You suppose that’s what moves his body in place of muscles, and perhaps the only thing keeping his forearm somewhat attached. You don’t know- you don’t want to keep staring because he’s noticing your staring.

  “Don’t touch that,” he warns. “You’ll get cut- the edges are like glass.”

  “You say that like this has happened before?”

  “Plenty of times. Especially back when I joined the harbingers. That’s when I first broke my arm- it’s been weak ever since.”

  “Then it can be fixed?”

  “Not really. Not back to how it’s supposed to be.”

  “…tell me,” you ask. Wanderer doesn’t usually open up about his past, but lately you’ve realized he rarely turns down whatever you ask him to do.

  He sits on the polished blue floor by your side. “…you know, up until I received divine knowledge, I wasn’t even sure what I was made of. I still remember the first time I broke my arm- It was actually in the abyss, too. I had never even had a scratch before- and suddenly my body was coming apart. I actually thought I was ruined.”

  He picks up the remains of his arm, and starts to fiddle with the strings. You aren’t sure if he’d feel more comfortable if you look away, or more normal if you watch.

  “…my body is supposed to be a divine vessel. It isn’t meant to break or crack- but it did. Typical, isn’t it? And the cherry on top- mortals don’t have any way of recreating this… “shell.” The doctor managed to come up with something kind of close- enough to seal the cracks and put my body back together plenty of times.”

  “And… what do you do without him?”

  He looks away in shame. He utters it like a dirty word.

  “Plaster.”

  He pulls aside his robe- this time showing off a spiderweb above his collar bone. You can see where his original body stops and is replaced by the plaster- it’s a bit more rugged, and less convincing in it’s imitation of human flesh. When you touch Wanderer’s skin, it’s colder and less elastic than your own, but still stretchy. You can’t imagine how imbedding plaster into the cracks would feel.

  “It’s cheap, I can find it anywhere, and I’ve gotten pretty decent at applying it. It holds me together ok… but it’s imperfect. And once I’ve broken something, it’s never going to be as good as it was. In that way… it kind of fits me perfectly.”

  He forcibly laughs again, but frowns when you make the most horrified face ever. Fuck- he thought laughing would put you more at ease, it usually does… Why can’t humans just be straightforward?

  …you pull up your own shirt, revealing a deep puncture wound

  “An arrow hit me really bad here. Paimon freaked out about it, so I just pretended it didn’t hurt. I don’t like showing anyone the scar because it’s weird.”

  “…I don’t think that’s on the same level as my arm. It doesn’t look bad at all-“

  “And this,” you interrupt, pointing to one over your forearm, “I actually got this one in the abyss, too. Pyro abyss mage. Set my arm hairs on fire. Looks kind of like raw chicken, right?”

  “Only if you say it does, now I can’t help but see it… but you-“

  “This is from a hilichurl ambush, this one’s from a fatui debt collector, don’t ask me how but I got it from a slime, this one is from breaking my ankle trying to glide from Dragonpine to Mondstat Cathedral…”

  You carried on, revealing every scar you’d earned on the road.

 “You know, most adventurers would retire after just one near death experience. I can’t say if that makes you brave or especially foolish.”

  “I’m just trying to say, everyone has scars. Doesn’t mean they’re broken.”

  “…do your scars maker your body weaker?”

  “Yes,” you answer without hesitation. “..some of them affect my abilities. Some of them… still hurt. But it doesn’t make anyone broken- that’s just what scars do. And hey- anyone who tells you otherwise probably has slime for brains.”

  He contemplates it for a minute, then he moves closer to you. He looks from the spiderweb pattern on his chest… to the arrow puncture in your stomach. Both look painful, both are painful, and both carry a story with them.

  “And here I thought this was just another thing that made me less divine, and less human… at least its only one of the two. Only a hopeless optimist like you could ever make me feel better about cracking my arm off.”

  “That’s the Wanderer I like to hear. No more saying awful things about yourself- lets go find someone else to bitch about.”

  “You don’t want to finish this floor?”

  “Pfft- the floor can wait. Hey, I know this alchemist in Mondstat- maybe he can cook up something for your arm. I’m sure he can at least make decent quality plaster!”

  “Fine. But you need to eat before we head back to Mondstat. I’m not carrying you there with one arm- but don’t worry. I can still cook just fine.”

  “Wait a minute… I thought it was my turn to cook?” You tease.

  “So much for trying to be subtle… I want to cook for you…”

  You help him to his feet.

  “I need to repay you for… all of this.”

  “No, you don’t. I can be nice to you just because, remember? You don’t owe me anything for it.”

  “…then let me be nice to you just because.”

[quieteclipse]

idk if i like this design for my potential gachiakuta oc, but it'll do for now until i get to know her better.

anyways, idk her name yet, it'll come after i figure out her story.

i'm thinking her jinki is her "pet snake" (a wooden snake that's childhood toy given to her by her best friend (long gone (not deceased?))) that turns into a dragon. i think it'd be kinda cool if she could turn any toy animal into a jinki, buuuuuuut we'll see. i don't wanna ruin the novelty of rudo's entire character.

as for her backstory, i'll kinda just go with the flow as a write this. first drafts are first drafts 🤷🏿‍♀️ depending on my fixation with the series, she'll either be left to rot as is or she'll get a complete & total overhaul later on.

anyways, so i'm thinking her ancestors are from the sphere/sky. but somewhere along her family history, they got sent down to the abyss (and somehow survived). i kinda wanna make it into a thing where the family in ber ancestry was a big one, and because they were so big, the higher ups thought they were prostituting/selling the kids or hust doing something vaguely shady.....so they sent THE WHOLE FAMILY down. as if the kids would've been at fault in that situation lmaooo

a lot of them didn't survive, namely the parents and the younger kids. it was mostly the eldest & middle children that survived the fall. but even from there, not many managed to survive the toxins or skypeople traffickers, so it resulted in the eldest son and the surviving youngest daughter being the ones to carry on the family legacy.

each of the known surviving child were dedicated to having just one or two children each—provided they or their offspring even wanted children—and that was something that continued for generations until alitash tasifa's* generation.

(*that's her name now; alitash is an ethiopian name that means "may i never lose you" and tasifa is an amharic surname that means "hope". hopefully these meanings are correct! )

i think ali grew up very lonely because somehow, someway, her family lineage (that she knew of) grew smaller and smaller until it was only her and her parents—and of course her parents have to die at some point.

and i guess, since i mentioned a childhood best friend! maybe she ends up living with her childhood bestie & their family for a bit until something happens with them. i guess they ended up needing to move and they didn't/couldn't take ali with them. the best friend's larting gift was the wooden toy snake they made themselves (it was to replce this "trashy" toy lizard ali picked up randomly off the street). ali gave them her favorite "trashy" toy lizard in exchange.

once when ali went up to meet their bestie & the fam, she ends up finding out that no one knew anything about a new family moving in. and in her search for them, she discovers that they never even made it to town. but that's pretty much all she ended up finding out.

for a while, ali kind of just wandered around since she had no real place to go back to and no one was waiting for her either.

she ends up inadvertently meeting engine & riyo after they tripped over her seemingly lifeless body in the streets. ali had kind of given up at that point and was just wasting away, waiting to die, but the funny thing is, her jinki was wrapped around her, protecting her from the elements & predators. engine of course saw this and bet on her potential as a cleaner, so he reasoned with ali's jinki (gotta give it a name) and eventually, they were able to gain its trust so that they could take ali in.

it was hard for ali to open up at first, because she was convinced that she'd eventually cause the cleaners to disappear somehow...or make them "throw her away". but she has been with them ever since and has gained her old self back.

now, as for what her "old self" means....? aka, what her personality is.....idk. in my mind, ali is grown, maybe like 28. the first thing that comes to my mind is a "wine aunt" kinda vibe. she is generally cheerful and loving, maybe a little friendly-flirty, but a deep melancholy permeates her exterior sometimes. she doesn't have much book smarts (and she's insecure about it, which is why she has a penchant for studying), but she has a lot of street smarts.

she has complicated feelings on whether she wants a family herself or not one day. it's mostly because she has only one person on her mind when it comes to love, and she doesn't even know if that person is dead or alive.

also irt her childhood best friend, i'm absolutely imagining them being a minor vandal or some sort of antagonist.

i'm also wanting for a relative (or relatives) of hers to show up at some point. like from one of those lost siblings all those generations ago. i want my pookie to have a family 🥺 i mean, she'll have a found family with the cleaners, but you know. having options isnt bad.

ummmmm i think that's it. for now anyways. so much of this is off rip & so vague, but it's a decent start for now i think.

[parasphendale]

✈

✈ - an eye-opening memory

It had been three nights since Harlow had been first plunged into the Abyss.

The experience itself had been standard, at least as far as the Abyss goes. She had been listening to a lecture on the history of Caine. Pagan had been lingering on Caine's rejection of God's attempts to reconcile and had gotten off on what Harlow considered to be an unnecessary tangent. She would have much preferred a sect history discussion, anyway.

But, all of these lessons had merit. Aside from that, Harlow wasn't even real Sabbat. So, she had no say in what had merit in the first place. When her eyes had wandered too many times toward the clock on the wall, Marco plunged her into the depths of the Abyss. Standard practice, all things considered. It was only for a few seconds.

But, she couldn't help thinking about it nights later. A world where there was nothing. Logically, that would mean it was a world with nothing but her, as she was presumably the sole inhabitant. But when Harlow moved her body, her limbs did not follow. When she tried to move her head, her eyes remained fixed. It wasn't just too dark to see her body, it was too dark to have a body. She was there, and yet she was not. The Abyss was a world where there was no logic at all.

The entire situation perplexed Harlow. She wanted to ask Marco more about what she felt, but was afraid he would simply throw her there again. After all, experience is the best teacher. She could even hear him saying that in her mind, accent and all. Harlow shuddered. No, instead, she would figure this out on her own.

She had a low grade Oblivion power herself. She'd normally use it in conjunction with Obfuscate to hide herself from her prey. But now her goal was different.

She sat in the corner of her room, activating and dissipating the shadows as much as she could to expose herself to their unfettered qualities. For the past two days, this led to only making herself hungrier and an isolated incident in which she accidentally startled Stepford. It was like trying to read a book the size of a fingernail.

But on the third day, something was different. She wasn't able to read the text of this book, per se. But squinting into the shadows, Harlow found that something was squinting back at her.

She jumped up from her corner and screamed. When confronted about it later, Harlow simply waved her hand and said, "Malkavian things."

But the knowledge that something more was out there, something big and terrifying and ontologically irrational, never quite faded away.

[autumnalwalker]

Find the Word Tag

Thank you for the tag, @druidx.

My words to find were advice, attitude, article, & ability.

Passing the tag to @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @cljordan-imperium, @winterandwords, @sleepyowlwrites, @writernopal, and an open tag for anyone else who wishes to participate.

Your words shall be complain, class, caught, & crack.

Advice: The Archivist's Journal, Day 59

The old guard, hints of irritation beginning to show, said outsiders are always going on about that.  Complaining that things don’t make sense.  Never stopping to consider that maybe things just don’t make sense to them.  Rarely able to accept that things are what they are and getting consumed looking for answers that aren’t there, usually dragging others down with them.

He paused for a moment, sighed, and then in a more sympathetic tone he told me that the outsiders that live the happiest lives here are the ones who learn to simply accept the world as it is and be at peace with that.  By all means, go out and explore, see what’s out there and find sights that no one’s seen before.  But just worry about the What and the Where of things.  Don’t obsess over the Why and the How or else one day I’ll be throwing myself into the Endless Abyss or losing myself in Cloud Tower.

As he turned to leave after imparting that advice, I asked him if he was keeping something from me.

Without turning around he asked me why I bothered to say that.  If he wasn’t hiding anything he’d tell me he wasn’t, and if he was hiding something he’d just lie and say the same thing anyway.  And even if I came to the conclusion that he was hiding something, I’d have no way of getting it out of him.  I have no way of knowing for sure one way or the other, so I may as well believe what makes me happiest.  Just like everything else.  Mysteries don’t have to have answers.

And then he stepped out onto the street and closed the door behind him, leaving me still standing in my own doorway at the top of the stairs.

What do I even say to that?

Attitude: The Archivist's Journal, Day 113

Mists are out this morning.  Apparently that means no class today.  No parent wants to risk having their kid get lost in the misty streets and wandering around until nightfall.  Makes for an awkwardly stilted start to the school season, but it is what it is.

Heh, “it is what it is.”  What a strange thing to say about shades of the dead rising from supernatural mists twice a month to drag anyone they find down to the underworld.  How easily the fantastical becomes mundane when you encounter it on a regular basis.  How neatly a horror becomes an inconvenience once you learn how to easily and consistently avoid its danger.  At one time the villagers’ matter-of-fact attitude toward mist nights struck me as uncanny, but the longer I live here the more sense it makes.

It occurs to me that while I’ve spent a few mist days in the Village proper before, I’ve not gone mist giant watching from here.  I wonder if I’ll see any out over the sea.

Article: The Archivist's Journal, Day 20

Thus I waded into the shallowest part of the waves, staring out to sea as the push and pull of the sand around me slowly sank my feet into the ground.  As I watched the waves it occurred to me that it wasn’t simply a matter of wave-in-wave-out-repeat.  One wave would break while the previous wave was still stretching itself up the beach.  So you’d get multiple distinct layers of water coming in forming visible terraces reaching you as multiple impacting walls, almost less flowing in as stacking as they hit first your ankles, then your shins, then your knees, before pulling back away, taking the sand from beneath your heels with them causing you to sink lower and reflexively wiggle your ankles to dig the fronts of your feet deeper as well until they reach a comfortable even level.

Eventually I’d sunk low enough, or perhaps the tide was coming in enough, that my reverie was broken by the now wet hem of my chiton sticking to my legs.  Seeing no one else about, I took this as a cue to strip the garment off and place it on the rock with the rest of my things.  Now down to my smallclothes and the probably sort of magic jewelry from the ruins, I indulged myself with wading out deep enough to swim.  Those latter articles I’d considered leaving behind as well for fear of losing them but I had a theory I wanted to test with the ring and with my being alone out here it seemed prudent to have a safety mechanism to let someone know if something went unexpectedly wrong.  And besides, both the ring and the bracelet (if I pushed it far enough up my arm at least) fit surprisingly snug for how comfortable they were to wear.  While easy to take on and off intentionally, I’d tried some earlier tests with just shaking my arm around or trying to get them caught on things and they seemed remarkably resistant to falling off unintentionally.  Further evidence that magic is a thing that exists here?

But back to the water.  It’s a funny thing.  I hadn’t swum ever since washing up here, and indeed that method of arrival didn’t do much to suggest I was good at it, yet on some level I knew it was a thing I could do.  And indeed, once my feet were no longer in contact with the sandy floor, there was a freeing sense of elation.  Of coming back to a place that you didn’t realize how much you missed.  I found myself letting out an involuntary but jubilant laugh as I bobbed in the waves.  Feeling an old forgotten instinct I took a breath, closed my eyes, dove underwater, and began to spin around until I could no longer hold my breath and was forced to surface.  As I surfaced with my wet hair stuck to my face from the submarine spinning, it struck me that this sensation was an unfamiliar one, as if in whatever life I’d had before this it was a great deal shorter, but this sense of difference somehow felt right in the same way that the reassuring nostalgia of swimming was.  I am no great swimmer, but still, there is something wonderful about reveling in the simple joy of movement untethered from the earthly pull of gravity.

Ability: Empty Names - 12 Houseguests

Trembling, he pulls down another book at random.  Whispers of the Sun: A comparative study of pyromantic traditions.  This one seems safe enough.  No hints of double meanings in the subtitle to indicate the sort of assault on the senses contained within the last several volumes.  As he cracks the tome open he feels the tingle of a tripped ward just in time to turn the book away from him and direct the burst of flame from the pages safely out over the balcony and into empty space.

This is far more like what he had expected to find here and that eases his frayed nerves.  The book itself is warm but undamaged by the fire it just expelled and an ashy aroma fills Ashan’s nostrils as he flips through the pages to skim the contents.  Comparisons of flames summoned from other planes with flames born from an attunement with nature and drawn from one’s own body.  Theoretical extrapolations of a lost formula whose only remaining record is a photograph of a back-covering tattoo that was half-destroyed by burn scars.  Steps to a dance choreographed from the flight of dragons.  Teleological implications of phoenix rebirth cycles.

Yes, this is the sort of knowledge that belongs in the private library of one of the greatest mages of this era.  Not what had filled that first shelf the manor’s maintenance golem had guided him to when he asked to see the Bridgewood library as had been agreed upon as payment for his services.  Calmer now, he wonders if that had been some sort of prank.  True, finding fiction literature (he truly hopes it was fiction) rather than purely useful arcane texts was not entirely surprising given the size of the library, but for the first book he pulled (and second and third and oh gods why the fourth) to be erotica rather than esoterica had shaken him.  It was not just the content itself but the fact that it was so utterly at odds with his mental image of the sorceress Bridgewood and the very idea of an arcane library.  By the time he reached the third book and found its prose to be as hackneyed as its content was graphic he was starting to question if he was hallucinating, or perhaps caught in an illusion covering up the true text.

Most likely, it was just the one shelf.

Still, he thinks he shall content himself with reading this tome for a time before he attempts further perusal of the library’s collection.  Conjuring fire is well outside his normal area of interest but perhaps it is time that he finally diversify outside of his teacher’s specialty.  After all, is it not said that an anchor mage’s greatest strength is the ability to combine magic systems from multiple worlds?  And besides, the mention he glimpsed of conceptualizing the sun as both the ultimate flame and the source of all life in order to apply pyromantic arts to healing might prove to be less distasteful to him than yet another tool of destruction.

[inavagrant-a]

"Do you wanna talk about it..?" [From Space Dad]

@unboundtravels

The snapping of the wood under the fierce burn of the flames of the fire that had been set up for the night is the only sound within their space amidst the wilderness of Inazuma. Being here... it makes Tetsuya more quiet than usual, unsettling so. It made him more on edge, the blade that he is, the edge sharpens anew, the barbed wire that surrounds him becomes larger and its sharpness will cut with newfound vigor to which Tetsuya will not apologize for to whoever attempts to reach in. In his silence, his mind is loud and in quiet protest he throws another log of wood into the flames so it can be consumed for his ever watchful pleasure if only to prevent his mind from consuming him into its own personally made abyss.

With him a man, forged and dented by many a celestial and cosmic matters that Tetsuya is still to grasp, but those details aren't something he's paying any particular attention to at this time, not when his mother creator is but a few hours away from where he is. His change in character, in his behavior, is all too obvious even to those inept of emotion. Even if Tetsuya would prefer that attention not be aimed at him, he supposes with this individual that's going to be impossible. Tetsuya frowns looking over at Goth, the bluntness of the question something that he did not expect... but appreciates nevertheless. Individuals who peek from behind bushes are the ones that annoy him the most, after all.

He keeps his peace, not in consideration or contemplation, but only because he wants to keep his peace, he wants to be quiet. Being in Inazumen soil brings back many a things all at once at forefront of his mind that, to his credit, is never truly empty.

The wanderer's frown softens, not out of tenderness, but out of a weariness of the soul, perfectly shaded over by his kasa as he rests his chin on the hand of the arm that's propping on his knee, turning his gaze elsewhere. "No." What is there to talk about anyway? The past is the past, even if he's the only one who's carrying it in his memory.

[creators-novel]

The party traverses through the gales of inky storm clouds and fissured Spaces. Figuring that since they first encountered Vyz on their way to find Zeus, they headed in the direction of Feros’ workshop as best as they could remember. As if they didn’t find it on a whim in the first place, it was hard to tell where anything was anymore. Everything was all out of order and misplaced. Vyz must have been trying to throw them off the trail. In a vast Multiverse, it’s already easy enough to get lost. This was ridiculous!  

The beach where Straus and Red had first met seemed to have been picked up and carried some miles away from where it once stood. And forget about the village surrounding it; everyone could only make out a few buildings that were still in one piece among the wreckage.

They passed by the area where Koto first ended up after being cast away from her family. Straus was probably the only one to notice, but didn’t want to mention it. It’s unknown if Koto, at the time, recognized the splintered mess.

Somehow, they even ended up in Gaia’s Space. If this place wasn’t already unnerving to the tiring travelers, this took the cake. He likely knew that this place belonged to a daughter of Jupiter, so he took special care in making sure it was near obliterated.

But even that doesn’t compare to what he did to Jupiter’s old residence. The entire area reeked of the void, not a speckle of orange hues remained. Infectious tones of purple and fuchsia lined the walls and ground; and the party had to take special care here to not fall into the many chasms that formed, while still fighting off the invading Stygians.

How long did they wander for? Days, weeks? Certainly not months, right? They didn’t have time! Fighting all these Stygians and creatures of the Void, losing the path, and finding it again, over and over and over…! It was only a matter of time before Vyz controlled everything, they had to hurry! They had to keep going, they had to trudge forward, if they don’t then the whole Multiverse would be-

…

They found it.

“So, that’s what’s left of Feros’ place? ...huh…”, says Straus, observing the corpse of Feros’ lair.

Exisite uneasily looks around, “DarkClaw explained this story of this place not too long ago. I didn’t think it was real…not until now, anyway.”

“Welcome to my world, I guess.”, sighs Straus.

“Disrepair” is an absolute understatement at this point, it’s a stretch to even call it a residence anymore. Regardless of Vyz’s takeover, the damage he did to this once-looming building seemed to be fueled by something more than just helping Koto deal with Feros. And speaking of Koto, being back here hurts her the most. Their attention is not on the rubble, but on what surrounds it; the last remnants of her youth are now cold, dark, and still.

Uriel keeps close to Koto and holds her hand, “Koto, is this…?”

“…”

“Woah…”

“What?”, asks Luna.

“This is-“, Uriel starts, “Er- this was, Koto’s Homeworld.”

Luna gulps, “Oh…”

“Don’t worry, guys.” Koto says, returning from her daydream-like state, “When all of this is over, I’ll make sure to show you the sky I grew up with.”

Straus walks up next to her, “And I’ll help you bring that sky back.”

“Mm-hm.”, she smiles.

Amadi closes his eyes and nods with approval, “Admirable.”

Straus points ahead, “Let’s keep moving. Lord knows this place could be swarmed with those monsters too.”

“Right!”, cheers Koto.

            And so, the group continues to traverse through the dusky, sludge-like abyss. From here, things to be simpler. Now that they’re getting close to the presumed source of this whole mess, more perceptive members of the party began to notice a pattern in the way the grounds splinter up and out… Aha! It’s a ripple effect! Well, easy enough then, all they need to do is keep following the path of destruction and they’ll find Vyz in no time at-

“Wait-!”, Straus puts his arms out and halts everyone.

Oh, what now?

“What’s wrong?”, asks Nova.

Straus takes a shaky step back, “…Solid ground literally ends where I stand.” The others carefully peek around him. Sure enough, they look down over the side of a sheer cliff, and it is a long…long way down. Azura perks up and points ahead, “Look down there. We could use those floating rocks!” Nathaniel grumbles, annoyed, “This feels like one of those video games. Is he trying to play with us?”

“It sort of looks fun.”, says Melanie, supposedly unbothered.

“Says you!”, Luna squeaks, “Most of you can fly, or are at least confident in your jumping skills…”

“I can carry you if you want!”, Uriel happily volunteers.

“Works for me…”

“Well”, Koto ponders, “If anyone else is afraid, they can be carried by someone else, right?”

Straus thinks out loud while staring over the edge, “I mean… I guess I inherited flight from my mom? But she has to use her wings for that…”

“So, why don’t you use yours?”, Amadi wonders.

Straus turns to face him, unamused and a bit flustered, “Must we really discuss this NOW??”

“Ehem.”, Exisite grabs the others’ attention, then raises himself into the air using his powers, “Anyone up for lifts?”

“Woah…!”

Koto claps, “Perfect!”

“Hmph. I got this!”, Nathaniel bravely announces before jumping off the cliffside and landing on one of the many platforms. After getting his balance, he starts to confidently jump from one to the other. “Wait for me!”, Kali excitedly calls, hastily going after her brother. “GUYS! Don’t go too far ahead!”, Koto shouts. “Yeah, yeah! Sorry!”, Kali’s teasing voice carriers through the gorge on a barely audible echo.

            One by one, the rest of the incarnates and Red set off across the rocky bridge (or lack thereof). This leaves Straus and Koto to be carried by Exisite. The two, not being used to this kind of weightlessness, end up turning themselves around a couple of times, but end up getting the hang of stabilizing themselves. “You’ve got quite the finesse with your powers, Exisite.”, Straus says with a happy grin. “I learned from the best.”, he says in return. “Yeah!”, Ex cheers.

And the journey continues onwards. But as the party falls silent to focus on traversing the unsteady path, eventually, a thought pops into Koto’s head.

“Hm…there’s something that’s bugging me.”

“Wha?”, asks Uriel.

“Castor and Straus are practically the same. If I remember correctly, they have basically the same DNA…so, like- are they brothers? Or is Castor Straus’ actual, biological son in a sense?”

Red skitters onto a rock and trips a bit upon hearing that. Then, after a moment, she blushes and flashes a cat-like smirk at the duo.

“…Reeed…”, Straus also blushes, but out of embarrassment.

Her smile becomes wider.

“Red, no!”

“He’s our baby boyyy!”

“NO-!”

Exisite facepalms, “Oh boi…”

            Farther and farther our heroes go, deeper and deeper into the depths of Vyz’s twisted realms. As they continue, the road ahead only seems to get more treacherous, with new obstacles beginning to appear.

“Tss-!”, Kali shivers, “It’s getting cold out here.”

“Really?”, asks Melanie, stepping from one stone to another, “It doesn’t feel so terrible to me…”

“Yeah- well, you wear a cape with a sweatsuit.”

“Kali, you have your jacket, right?”, Straus points out.

“Yeah but- Weugh-!!”, she nearly falls, but clings onto one of the rocks just in time, “I can’t exactly put it on right now!”

“Is it just me, or…”, Nova jumps, “Hup! Or are the rocks getting a lot smaller too?”

“It’s a bit concerning.”, says Azura as he wobbles between two of the small stones.

Red hops to the front of the group. “Hey, look! Let’s land over here everyone, there’s another path!”

“Oh, thank god this is over!”, Kali trembles.

[ruthlesslistener]

What do you think about the fact that people genuinely characterize / write PK in fanfiction systematically hunting down / killing stray vessels wandering around Hallownest? or kicking them down from the ramp in the Abyss? like this has been on my mind a lot since this was one of my first fandom impressions I've got from him, which hm.

But anyway, this seems very ooc of him, especially since he's more of a passive and negligent kind of person, than a intentionally actively agressive one. What do you think?

I think that its fucking stupid, and I have no idea where people got the idea for it. A really common interpretation of the lore when I first joined the fandom was that PK would hatch the eggs in the White Palace (or, just create them in his workshop like the kingsmoulds and wingsmoulds), train them for a bit, and then throw the impure ones into the Abyss. This was seen as canon by many people and was the prevalent interpretation of the vessel-creating process. Many people also believed that the Path of Pain was a method for testing if the vessels were pure, and that PK would actively throw them into the gauntlet. Which would kind of make sense as agility training for PV down the line, but not as a means of testing out purity, ESPECIALLY since it...doesn't exist in the physical world. The White Palace as we see it in-game is a twisted amalgamation of what it was in the past to keep intruders away from the Pale King's dying location. So all that fanart of PK kicking vessels into buzzsaws is just for memes, not for serious interpretation.

And while I see the potential for angst, it was extremely disorienting for me to see after actually playing the game because there's just...no proof of it whatsoever. Like, I don't even know where the concept of any of that shit came about in the first place, because we explicitly see how the vessel-choosing process worked in the Abyss cutscene. The eggs were placed in the Abyss; the vessels hatched from them, then were called to climb up to the ramp by the Pale King. Said climb is near-impossible for a newly hatched vessel, as proved by challenge runners who tried it without any upgrades, so 99.9% of them failed, likely dissuading many on the abyss's floor. The vessel that made the climb was therefore not only proven to be capable of following orders without question, but also being physically fit enough to seal the Radiance.

We don't know if others made the climb and were thrown back down by PK after judgement, but there's also no proof of that being the case, and the fact that some escaped via other means to be later tested by Hornet post-fall likely meant that PK was aware of them, but decided to let them live on as backup. There is no evidence that he actively hunted them down or was physically pushing them to their deaths- he merely stood by and watched them die. This is ALSO supported further by him gaining a soft spot for the Pure Vessel later on, as it is extremely likely that such a thing was only possible because the Pure Vessel was the ONLY one of his children that he had extended contact with. It wouldn't make sense for him to grow attached to them if he had been actively training and killing his other kids, because he likely had no experience with that particular brand of weakness before them. Remember, the White Lady grows less cold with Ghost the more that they interact with her, as if forgetting the fact that they are a vessel; neither of the Pale Gods were keen on the plan to begin with, and certainly do not seem to have interacted with their own children much, if WL starts questioning if one of them is more than 'just a vessel' after Ghost goes off and collects the Voidheart. They would be a lot more jaded if they had been actively raising and killing that many kids before Ghost and Hollow showed up.

This, like you said, also fits with the nature of the Pale King's character much better than the fanon concept of him, because he is deliberately set up to be an antithesis to the incredibly aggressive Radiance. Where the Radiance is passionate, aggressive, and reactive, the Pale King is reserved, calculative, and passive. She comes flying forth in a rage when challenged by the Knight; the Pale King forces them to go through a grueling, long, twisting maze to reach his corpse, then kickes them out of the Dream shortly after. Where she advanced and killed through aggressively infecting the dreams of the mortals, the Pale King devised a plan in secret to use his own flesh and blood to defeat her, keeping it so quiet that even his five Great Knights didn't know that other vessels had been created (which is more proof that almost all of them were hatched and killed in the Abyss). When defeat seemed close, the Pale King hid himself away to die rather than confront the Radiance himself. Hell, even his plot to kill her- BOTH TIMES- was passive, with the first being him stealing her worshippers out from under her, and the second being a plot to lock her away in an inescapable, unresponsive body until she slowly died from being forgotten. He is the very DEFINITION of a passive ruler, a title that is ALSO shared by his wife, who neglected to care for the kingdom in its dying throes because she was too busy being sad in self-imposed horny jail exile to give a shit. There is no way in HELL he would have actively trained, killed, and hunted the vessels. That's giving far too much credit and ambition to a character whose actions repeatedly point to him being a scheming little coward who'd rather run away from his problems than stand and face them.

So tdlr: its great for angst but is entirely a fanon interpretation with no basis in canon whatsoever, and in fact actually actively contradicts the information we are given in the game itself.

[kitsuvil]

"i did it for fun, right?"-scaramouche

♡

warnings; scaramouche/genshin spoilers, angst, suicide, psychosis, losing control of yourself, delusions, murder, choking, etc.

"One last time, please," he mumbles to himself under the frail cover of the moonlit sky. "I don't want to run out of time yet."

He's felt this way for a while now. Ever since he ran away with the gnosis finally in his hands. Finally. He was a god. He was himself, so why did it feel like he was rotting from the inside out. Why wouldn't the gnosis accept him. That wench's puppet can have all that power, and he doesn't get anything?

"Mother, you've really made things hard for me here." He chuckles before throwing the gnosis down to the ground for the thousandth time today. But of course the gods didn't like him. They would never accept him. He's created more chaos than those 7 failures, yet they continue to think he's not enough.

All because he doesn't have a heart.

He deserves the biggest apology for what he's gone through, but the glowing green vision sitting on the ground — tossed aside after multiple futile attempts to break it — reminds him of how much celestia likes to prod hundreds of imaginary drills into his automaton body. When he gets his hands on that anemo archon, he will never let him see the light of day.

"Should've been me instead of Signora in Mondstadt. She died anyway, couldn't have been worth much if she was that easy to defeat. I would've gone to see the battle with my own eyes, if I was curious enough. But I couldn't let it get in the way of my plans. I couldn't see her again either."

The fatui are all a bunch of foolish idiots, responding to one ruler without question just because it benefits them. Disgusting. If it were up to him, he would send them on the worst missions just so they can get sick of it and leave. He was tired of getting thrown around just for some ideal "queen," who couldn't even face her loyal servants and conveyed her messages through her best buddy Pierro. Truly, there were better things to do.

Such as, finding a way to claim this damn gnosis for himself. As much as he relished in the feeling of being the current owner of the electro gnosis, it wouldn't mean anything if the Traveler came and took it before he could take advantage of this magical chess piece.

"If this shit doesn't work..." He mumbles to himself, picking it up from the floor. Once again, just like every other time, he clasps his hands over the gnosis and tries to form a connection with it. This time, unlike the rest, he feels an overwhelming sense of fatigue and anger. Then he passes out.

The immense pain in his chest accompanied by the ringing in his ears that travels through his whole body are enough to make him want to knock out again. If he got the chance to live absolutely any other life, he wouldn't hesitate. In this one, he cannot die. He cannot feel anything other than pain. He opens his eyes to face an empty abyss, nothing but him and the gnosis.

To him, it's obvious.

The gnosis is finally making it clear that there's no way for him to accept the electro powers. Fine. Make it that way. But he won't let celestia see the the end of it. He will make them pay, he doesn't care how long it takes or who he has to hurt in the process.

While his inner monologue grows he's forced to ignore the small ragged gasps escaping his mouth though the feeling of his throat closing up was clear and unforgettable. It felt as if an invisible entity was gripping his neck with their fingers, squeezing as tight as they could. Memories of his past flashed before his darkening eyes. His birth, creation. Getting abandoned by the mother that was supposed to look after him. Wandering for years until he was taken in, thinking he could create a new beginning for himself. But instead of a new beginning, he was met with someone's final ending. Katsuragi's death. All he remembered after his death was a big mess of blood and disappointment. He couldn't rely on anyone but himself, they'd just leave. They all deserved the pain and death that he brought to them. Even if they didn't do anything wrong, they were part of the problem. Part of the reason everyone betrayed him.

Before he could think, he was scratching at his throat, grasping for any chance to breathe. He couldn't see anything, the entire void of his memories was all a big blur. He could only feel the chains wrapping around his heart and the aching in his lungs.

He thrashed around for a while, before finally giving up and accepting the tears that slid down his face like burning fire as his vision faded into black.

When he came to, the first thing he could smell was the stench. The stench of rot and blood. The sound of running water. He was in a shallow lake filled with more blood than water from the multiple bodies piled up all around him. Bodies of innocent people.

It starts as a silent chuckle, but quickly he's laughing as if he was just told the funniest joke in the world. That joke was him.

"Please, I don't want to do this anymore. I just want peace. How could anyone ever deal with this. I want a heart. I don't understand."

But instead of panicking, he reassures himself. "Haha, it's fine, I did it for fun, right? I had a fun time, right? It was good while it lasted?"

In front of him, a glowing purple chess piece. The gnosis that Kunikuzushi could never claim as his own.

"What is the point. I give up." He gets up from the bodies, not cleaning himself up at all and starting to walk. Anywhere would be better than here. He doesn't care. The anger and resentment broke him, leaving only an empty shell. Dried tears lay on his face as he wanders aimlessly through the moonlit night.

[mercy-burning]

Affection

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer and Y/N decidedly hate each other. But when a near-death experience puts one of them in a coma, their mutual hatred might have to take a backseat— Or will it? Category: Angst / Happy Ending! + Humor and a lil bit of Fluff Content: Strong language, Reader is in a coma, mentions of injury, kissing Word Count: 2.6k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This one’s for Pom’s ( @imagining-in-the-margins ) September Writing Challenge, Enemies To Lovers! I have another one coming up as well, but this idea wouldn’t get out of my head ever since I watched The Abyss with my dad and I had to get it out 😅 I hope you like it!!

———

I swear to fucking God, if this motherfucker really thinks he—

That was the last thing Y/N thought before she was knocked out cold.

With her line of work, it was natural to assume that she was thinking about the unsub, but unfortunately the criminal she and her team were tracking down was the farthest thing on her mind. Spencer would have chastised her for it— letting something else cloud her thoughts while she was in a dark alley, alone, and with a serial killer on the loose.

"You should be smarter than that!" she could hear him say in that high pitch he always carried when he was upset— especially with her. "If you don't get yourself killed one of these days, then it'll be the rest of us!"

Thinking about it made her blood boil.

"It's your fault," she wanted to tell him. "I had to blow off some steam because you were pissing me off!"

The only thing was... She couldn't tell him.

Well... She could.

He just couldn't hear her, because no one could.

It was like some stupid, cliché movie, where you found yourself standing over your dying body and having to choose whether to live or not. It seemed like the obvious choice, to fucking live, but... Y/N found herself wandering around her hospital room, yelling into the void and attempting to jump back into her own body.

Nothing was working.

And when Spencer showed up, his face red and his hair and clothes all messed up, she wanted to scream at him.

"Hey!"

Nothing. He was practically lifeless as he drifted to the chair next to her bed and sat down. It was nearly impossible to read from his expression and body language how he was feeling, and that alone was enough to make her angry again. (Not that the anger had really gone away since waking up next to her comatose body, of course.)

"Hey! Dumbass!"

Still nothing.

As Spencer just blankly stared down at Y/N's bed, she decided she'd had enough.

"SPENCER FUCKING REID, IF YOU DON'T HELP ME RIGHT NOW I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL HAUNT YOUR ASS UNTIL THE END OF ETERNITY, AND I'M GONNA LAY FAT, STINKIN' GHOST SHITS IN YOUR SHOES, DO YOU HEAR ME? AND—"

"I hate you."

It was a bold enough statement to stop Y/N in her tracks, no matter how quietly he'd mumbled it. She knew for sure that he didn't like her, after years of constant bickering and dirty glares and whatever else, but... The word 'hate' was like a knife that sliced through her joking rage and stopped the whole world around her.

If she wasn't already out of her own body, she just knew she would have felt her soul leave.

Spencer didn't hate anyone. Not that she was aware of, anyway. He found nearly everyone delightful, and vice versa... But for some reason, he hated Y/N.

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Yeah, well... Feeling's mutual, I guess..."

"You're stupid, and reckless, and you don't think. And you're a goddamn nightmare to work with... You know what— You're a stone-cold bitch."

His words made her physically step backwards, and it felt like if she were a cartoon, there might have been steam coming out of her ears.

"Yeah, well jokes on you, you make it easy," she seethed. "Fuck you!"

"How... How dare you..." he continued, anger reddening his face.

Y/N watched as he balled his fists and leaned in a little closer to her body, his voice tight and strained. "How dare you walk into my life and boss me around and make it impossible to breathe... From the moment I met you, you've brought out this... this fire in me that I can't put out no matter how hard I try, and it's insufferable—You're insufferable, and I hate you, how dare—"

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a shortness of breath. Spencer breathed in, loud and choked, and the next breath he let out was nothing short of a sob. His eyes squeezed shut, tears rolling down them and his hands clutched the bedsheets with a vigor and rage that Y/N had never seen from him, even in all the years she'd spent visibly getting on his last nerves.

"N—No," she choked out, feeling her throat tighten. "Don't... Don't turn into a sappy mess on me now, do you hear me, Reid? You hate me, don't... Don't..."

"I don't hate you," he whispered, wiping his eyes and reaching out to grab her lifeless hand. "I hate that you make me feel this way, but... I could never hate you..."

She wanted nothing more than to be able to squeeze his hand back, to tell him, not even necessarily with words but with a simple gesture, that she was right there and wasn't going to go anywhere.

She just... had to figure out how to make that true.

Still, Spencer kept going, a small laugh bubbling up through tears and phlegm. "But I will hate you if you die, because I just know you're gonna come back and haunt me for eternity... Probably... shit in my shoes or something."

Y/N barked a laugh that was true and pure... Happy, even.

The genius may have acted like he hated her, but it turns out he knew her pretty well, perhaps even fondly in one way or another.

To think— All those years she spent seeing him sneer at her, feeling his glare burn into her soul, the amount of times she caught him making faces or inappropriate gestures behind her back, all of it... And the whole time, he was probably doing it with a little flicker of fondness deep within the confines of his heart, which he swore to fill with nothing but hatred for her.

The thought made the little flicker in her own heart burn brighter.

As she wandered closer to her bed, beside Spencer and in front of her own body, she reached her hand out to see if she could touch his face, to give him something...

Even though she had no luck, something shifted when he spoke.

"Just... Come back to me, please? I know I'm not good at apologizing, but if it means I get you back... I swear that I will make up every horrible thing I've ever done or said to you. Just... Please don't leave me."

He laid his head down in his hands and tried not to cry again, every said horrible thing replaying on a loop in his brain like some kind of taunt. He wished more than anything for a chance to make it up to Y/N, and now he might not ever be able to.

"You think I'd leave this mortal earth without getting the chance to kick your ass?"

Everything was so fuzzy and light and brimming with these high emotions that Y/N almost didn't realize she was saying these words and Spencer was hearing them. She almost didn't feel the warmth of her bloodstream beneath layers of skin, the beat of her heart slowly coming back to life at the sounds and smells of the hospital room.

She almost didn't realize that Spencer was grabbing her now, his warm hands covering her cold ones and bringing them back to life as well.

"Screw you," he breathed with absolutely no malice to be detected in his voice.

They shared a smile so bright, no one would have been able to guess that they never got along.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Not only was she stuck at home doing nothing while on suspension (Yes, it turns out that storming off into an alley and not paying attention while on the job, just because a co-worker pissed you off, can get you suspended by Chief Strauss), but Y/N was also being visited by a daily rotation of her co-workers and friends and family, and her house was nearly covered in flower bouquets and baked goods.

It was a nightmare.

The sentiment was nice, sure, but if she had to move one more vase, she was going to start throwing them.

God, maybe Spencer was right, I am a stone-cold bitch...

Thinking of him also put a little damper on her mood.

He hadn't been to visit her once... And she figured that after their nice little moment at the hospital, he'd at least stop by with flowers or an "I'm glad you're not dead!" call, but there was nothing on his end. Not even a text message or a letter.

But for all she knew, their small moment of kindness could have been a figment of her concussed imagination.

Please, she thought, if I brought it up to him he'd probably just laugh in my face.

Rather than a laugh, Y/N heard the bright sound of her doorbell, which normally would have meant a fun unexpected visit or a date she was getting ready for, but by now it only meant another vase of flowers or a pie from a neighbor she still didn't remember the last name to.

Either way, she answered the door with as polite a smile as she could muster, and instead of finding a vaguely familiar neighbor or acquaintance, she found Spencer.

Though, to be fair, he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Well, this is a surprise," Y/N drawled, crossing her arms. "I don't even think you've ever been to my house."

She was surprised to see him nervous around her, rather than irritated. And she would have found it endearing had they not been practically mortal enemies from the moment they met... She was suspicious.

"O—Oh, yeah... I know, I just thought... I wanted to come see how you were doing... These are for you."

He held out the flowers, which were truthfully the pretties set she'd received, and it irked her. Because of course he of all people would be the one to tell which kinds of flowers she'd prefer.

"Thanks," she said, taking them from him and allowing him the space to come inside. "Watch out, it's a maze in here..."

While she looked for somewhere to put the flowers on display, she could feel Spencer looking around her space, probably profiling what he could behind a sea of flowers.

"Hm."

Y/N sighed. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just... I'm surprised this many people actually like you."

Despite the nature of his observation, she found it comforting. That level of playful contempt was what she was used to, and it brought a sparkle to her eye as she turned to face him. "Ha... I'm not a complete bitch, you know."

"Sure."

Between the growing grin on his face and the smirk forming on her own, Spencer and Y/N found themselves falling back into a familiar rhythm. And yet, something about it was still... different.

So much so that Y/N felt honest-to-God butterflies in her stomach when he approached, hands retreating from his pockets and head tilting off to the side. His expression held that look he got when he was trying to figure someone out, usually an unsub. She hated to admit it to herself, but a little part of her always found that side of him extremely attractive.

And now that it was right in front of her?

She didn't know what to make of it.

"What?" she snapped, looking for an excuse to hide any and all attraction she was feeling.

Spencer stepped back a little, breaking away from whatever trance he'd just been in. "God, why do you always have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"You push away every single show of affection! Any time I'm trying to be nice, you just act like it's some big inconvenience to you!"

Y/N laughed. "Ha! That's what that was? Just now? When you insulted me, and then started stalking towards me with that look you get when you're interrogating an unsub? That's what you call affection?"

"That's not... That's not what that was!"

"Oh really? Then what was it?"

"It was part of the routine! Banter! Y—You know, that's our thing! We insult each other, and we act like we hate each other but we... We don't, really..."

The longer he went on, the faster her heart raced. This was the moment in the movie where he inevitably blurted out that he loved her, and in turn she would either kiss him or slap him, or slap him and then kiss him...

But Y/N was still feeling rather playful despite the swarm of butterflies in her stomach begging for some relief.

"Oh?" she prompted, taking a slow step closer to him. "We don't?"

Spencer seemed to get red immediately, and he avoided her eyes. "U—Uh... Well I... I thought... Maybe I read it all wrong, a—and I'm sorry if I did..."

She'd been getting closer meanwhile, and now they were practically toe-to-toe. He did his best to ignore her, taking a few steps back until she cornered him against the front door. And with the way he wasn't doing anything to get out of his predicament, she took that as his acceptance and took another leap.

"What..." she cooed, crawling her fingers up the front of his chest like a spider. "You like me? Hmm?"

When he finally looked down at her, she allowed herself to smile, albeit slowly and with calculation.

In a flash Spencer went from nervous to fed-up, weight seeming to visibly lift from his chest as he sank against the door. "You're messing with me..."

"It's so fun."

"You know what, screw you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Maybe it is. What are you gonna do ab—"

She didn't let him finish.

In an instant, Y/N lunged forward and pulled him down for a kiss.

Even though she thought he might have tried to take control of the situation, he ended up surprising her with a wanton moan as his hands clutched at her sides, holding on for dear life. Their bodies and tongues collided in a mess of years worth of pent-up tension, chaotic and wild and fiercely beautiful in a way that put even the greatest first kisses to shame.

And of course, Spencer had to go and ruin it.

He pushed her away and looked almost panicked. "W—Wait, are you even cleared to do this?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, reaching out for him again. "I'm fine."

"Y/N, you were in the hospital! I thought... I thought you were..."

She appreciated the sentiment, but with her entire body on fire from his touch, she decided she needed more of it. "Yeah, but I'm not... I'm very much alive, and you know what?"

He blinked back at her, watching carefully as she leaned in close to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"It's because of you. You make me feel... more alive than I've ever been."

"And... You're not messing with me this time?"

With a laugh,  Y/N shook her head and leaned up to brush her nose with his. "Nuh-uh... But if you'd like to, I'd love to mess with you in a more fun way. And maybe I'll even let you do it back..."

Spencer hummed, feeling himself gravitate towards her more with every passing second. "Deal."

He barely got the word out all the way before she was dragging him through the maze of flora and contained food and into her bedroom, where piece by piece, their hatred and fondness for one another combined to create the most exquisite of nights.

———

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[jaedore]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 | 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: jaehyun x reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mythology!au, angst, romance

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, suggestive (just making out lol), mentions of alcohol, violence (mentions of choking)

𝐚/𝐧: if you are uncomfortable with these themes then i highly suggest you no longer interact! also, thoughts/emphasis are italicized. I'll just put the header on when I have the patience bc I felt like this is long overdue

[4.5k words]

You woke up finding your body was stiff and sore. It overpowered the pain in your wounded knees that stung with every movement of your limbs. Yesterday seemed like days ago, it felt like a fever dream. No, a nightmare. All you wanted to do was just curl up in bed, but then you remembered that your mother and you were having dinner at Jaehyun’s place. You’ve never gone to the Underworld, you didn’t hear many good things about it and that terrified you. What if Cerberus ate you? What if a wandering, lost soul stole your soul? The questions were endless and it sent you down a spiral of nervousness.

���Y/n?” Your mother softly came in, an apron hung around her neck and the aroma of breakfast food seeped into your room.

“Morning, mom,” you croaked.

“How are you feeling?”

Your mind flashed back to yesterday; Jaehyun in your room, tending your wounds, being flirtatious, or whatever. You remembered it as clear as the Fountain of Youth.

“I’m fine,” you answered, swiping the sheets away from your body to peer at the wounds.

You gently peeled back the bandage a bit only to see that the wound was almost gone. It held a faint discoloration as it was in the process of healing, but you were impressed nonetheless.

“So,” your mother began as she sat on the edge of your bed, “tonight, I was thinking about bringing a pasta dish. Or should we bring a cake? A pie maybe?”

“We can just pick up a pie from the bakery,” you brushed your hand in the air, dismissing any ideas, “it’ll be easier anyways.”

“Ah, yes. Hades does like his spicy chocolate pies,” your mother hums as she smoothes her palm against your bedsheet.

“Ugh, I don’t know how he eats that stuff,” you grumble, swinging your legs off your bed.

“Well, he is the God of the Underworld,” she raises both of her eyebrows at you, “so, what will you be doing today? It’s super nice out.”

Peering at your window, the sun shines brightly in the sky. The sky is bare of clouds and it does seem like a beautiful day today. You can imagine yourself sitting in the grass with a book in your palms. But you had more important things to do today, like beating the shit out of Maeve.

Your shoulders slump as you reply, “I’m going to go train with Mark.”

“You’re always training with that boy,” she narrows her eyes at you, “are you in love with him?”

“Mother!” You raise your voice, snapping your head to her, “No, I am not.”

Athena only laughs at your reply as she gets up and makes her way out of your room.

“Hey, Y/n?” her voice stops you before you step into the bathroom.

“Yes, mom?”

“You know you can tell me anything right?” she asks, her voice sweet and loving.

You nodded, recalling the things that happened last night at the beach. You haven’t told her and she must be worried, but you’re too drained and confused to spill it. So you spare her a small smile as you walk into the bathroom, not saying a word about what happened.

--

“Come on! You can hit harder!”

Annoyed at Mark’s ‘words of encouragement’, you purse your lips as you attempt to hit the boxing pad with your mitts. You were beginning to get tired, your arms burned from the repetitive movements and your knees ached as it chased after your feet. Mark hasn’t given you a break since you’ve gotten here and it’s almost been an hour of constant hitting.

Growing frustrated, you shouted in protest, “I’m done!” you throw your mitts on the dirt.

Mark sighs, seeing the frustration in your eyes, “Okay, what’s really going on?”

You exhale a short breath, “Nothing you’d be interested in,” you answer him sharply as you walk towards one of the rocks to sit on. Mark follows you closely, but quietly afraid to set off the fuming bomb of anger you always held.

“You know,” he starts, “I’ve heard a lot of mysterious things about you,” he plops right next to you.

You curl your legs up to your chest as you stare forward at the waterfall, “Like what?” you mumble, really not interested in what he’s heard because it’s all been bad stuff.

“You tell me,” Mark shrugs.

You tighten your hold on your legs, “I think someone’s out to get me,” you whisper.

Mark leans in to hear you clearer, “Maeve?” he whispers back.

You shudder, her name bringing back awful memories, “Yeah, but I’m not sure why. I have nothing that has to do with her. Sure, I provoked her on the first day, but...it wasn’t severe to draw it out this far.”

Mark’s eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean?”

You explained what happened last night at the beach party. You quivered as you retold the story from your perspective. It was a vivid nightmare that you didn’t know how to wake.

“Where is Lucas now?” Mark asked.

You fumed at the male’s name. He hasn’t texted or called you since last night. He would be the key to all of your answers, but he wouldn’t answer any of your messages or calls. Lucas was friendly, always nice, and shined bright like the sun. You just wondered what he was up to.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, picking up the mitts from the ground, “come on. We came here to train. Plus, I want to forget it all.”

Mark quickly jumps to his feet, “do you think this has anything to do with the feud between Hades, your mother, and her’s?”

You tilted your head to the side, “What feud?”

Mark smirked, “Guess you don’t know then.”

“Mark,” you lowered your voice when he dismissed your question, “what. Feud?”

“I’ll tell you if you can beat me,” he said, picking up the other pair of mitts that laid on the ground.

--

Storming into your house, you shouted, “Why didn’t you tell me about the feud you had with Hades and Eris?”

Taken aback, she looked at you with wide eyes, almost dropping the spoon she held, “w-what are you talking about?”

You inhaled, “Why didn’t you tell me that after the Titan War, Hades, and apparently Zeus, imprisoned Eris in Tartarus? And that you were helping them and now she’s after me, possibly because of it?”

“Who told you that?” your mother calmly put down the spoon and rubbed her palms on her thighs.

“Does that really matter right now, mom?” your voice rose in anger.

“Sit down,” she wipes her hand on a napkin, discarding it as she walks towards you, who begins to be seated at the dinner table.

“Eris and I were good friends, we trained together as kids. She was good, almost better than me, but there was always the tension of competition between us. One could only be good in the eyes of Zeus so we grew up and trained with that mindset. As we got older, we were still good friends, but there was always that silent tension between us. When the Titan war came to be, Eris rebelled and fought against us,” your mother sighed, anguish tainting the streaks of her face, “I tried everything in my power to persuade her to fight with us, to be on our side, but that’s when she said all of the things that were never said. That I was the favorite, I was the best only because I was the favorite, I was only fighting along Zeus because he favored me more than her. Not because I was good or tactful, she disregarded our training together...our friendship, the bond that we had growing up. It was stupid really, but eventually, we beat their army and imprisoned her. According to Zeus, she did more damage during the war that I wasn’t aware of. That’s why she’s imprisoned in Tartarus. I haven’t asked because she’s...she’s dead to me really.”

You leaned back in her seat, realizing that Maeve probably was only acting out of feeling because of the relationship between both of your mothers. Her mother was imprisoned in the deep abyss below the Underworld, while yours lived a perfect, rewarding life.

“Is that why we’re going to the Underworld tonight? To talk to Zeus?” you quietly asked.

Your mother nodded, “I know I should’ve told you. I’m sorry. I just didn’t think of the possibilities of her coming for you through her daughter because of me.”

You shook your head, “It’s fine. I just want this to stop,” your fingertips brushed against your neck.

“Well,” your mother sighed, peering at her watch, “you don’t really have time to get ready, so why don’t you rinse your face from the sweat, and then we’ll pick up the pie and head on down.”

Head on down. You whimpered as you stood up. And it wasn’t because of your sore legs.

As you washed your face, you wondered if Jaehyun would be eating with you guys. You recall that Hades said Jaehyun was always at the Mourning Fields talking to the souls that wandered there. There, holds the souls that wasted their souls on unrequited love. Does Jaehyun love someone? Or does he not? Then you remembered how he took up space in your room last night. His fingertips sent icicle daggers through your skin that you felt their phantom as you wiped your face on the nearby towel. With the hopes of Jaehyun not speaking to you tonight, you braced yourself on the journey of walking down into the Underworld.

--

You jumped back at the sound of barking. Cerberus. The three-headed dog barks at both you and your mother. No matter how powerful your mother, Athena, was, she had no power over a creature created to guard the gates of the Underworld.

“Why isn’t he coming? I rang the doorbell like five minutes ago,” your mother grumbled.

As if on cue, the gates opened and the growling sounds of Cerberus silenced in question.

“They are not the enemy or the dead, Cerberus. They’re our guests.” a voice rang above you. You found out later that the voice belonged to Hades, but you saw Jaehyun stepping out from behind the black, iron gates.

“Good evening, sorry for the wait.” Jaehyun bowed to you both.

Your mother paused, regretting the comment she made before as she saw how handsome Jaehyun was, “You’re Jaehyun, right? You grew up so well.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Tch “ma’am”. As if you actually had manners. You rolled your eyes at his sense of poise. You wonder where he learned such acts in a short amount of time.

Your mother nudged you, “do you have anything to say?” she whispered.

You inhaled a sharp breath, narrowing your eyes at the prideful male in front of you, “Thank you for having us,” you mumbled, barely nodding to him.

“Please, this way.”

Jaehyun led your mother and you towards Hades’ Palace, the stone tower tall enough to peek through the rising fog of the evening. Across the path to the left stood the Judgement Pavilion. Several souls lined up waiting for their next home where they’d be trapped forever. One of the souls snapped their eyes to you as if they knew where you stood, who you were. Their eyes were full of darkness and fury, almost consuming you into a tunnel of doom.

Jaehyun snatched your arm, his grip vice-like, “Don’t look at any soul who hasn’t been through the Judgement Pavilion, it’s their last chance to steal a living being’s soul before they’re judged into exile.” You hadn’t realized it but it was only you and Jaehyun who stood on the pavement that led you to Hades’ Palace.

You looked ahead not seeing her, “Where’s my mom?”

“She already went in. We didn’t even notice you were gone until she asked you something to only find you not behind us.”

You inhaled a sharp breath, “How long have I been standing here?”

“Around five minutes, you didn’t hear me call you?” Jaehyun’s eyebrows furrowed.

Shaking your head in denial you said, “No, I didn’t until you grabbed my arm,” you eyed down to your arm seeing that he still held you. Jaehyun’s grip loosened as he also realized that he hadn’t let go yet.

“Come on, let’s go,” his hand tightened around your arm once again as he dragged you towards the stone palace.

“I can walk myself,” you snapped at him, attempting to yank your arm from his clutch.

Jaehyun turned to you, his eyes cool and icy, sending chills down your spine, “I know,” he lowly said, “but I’m not taking my chances,” he gripped your arm again, leading you to his home.

The moonlight barely shined against the copper stone of his palace, creating sheer darkness looking like it hadn’t been touched for centuries. As unwelcoming as it felt, you could smell the complete opposite; a small scent of mint, the natural smell of tree bark, and the faintest feather of lavender. You glanced forward at Jaehyun, he hadn’t spared you look as you two made your way towards his home.

Jaehyun led you past the Asphodel Meadows, only tugging on your arm harder to bring your senses back. He was right to do so because looking at it was hypnotizing. You were even surprised that the ground-up dirt was able to grow flowers, and not knowing what kind they were, they were the most beautiful you’ve ever seen. The trees that sheltered them were bare of leaves and plants, creating a haunting aura, but it didn’t alarm you enough to look away.

“Come on,” Jaehyun tugged at you once again, this time gaining your attention.

You glared at him making you feel like some child that wasn’t able to concentrate. “What’s down there?”

He glanced back at you, mirroring your expression, “You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. Now hush, we’re almost there.”

After a few more steps, you both came to face his home. The palace was bigger than you expected as it loomed over you. It felt like you were walking into your own exile.

“I thought you got lost,” your mother called to you as you walked in with Jaehyun behind you.

“She almost did,” he mumbled as he passed you to sit at the dinner table.

“She’s always been a curious one,” your mother laughed.

“That could get you in some serious trouble, girl,” Hades walked into the room with spoons in his hand. The high-pitched cackling sound of the spoon hitting the dishes made you wince, “come sit, it’s almost time to eat.”

Obeying Hades’ words, you idly sat next to Jaehyun with shame settling in your bones because you felt embarrassed that he had to drag your ass back to his place. The skin where his hands once grasped your arm felt tingly and you couldn’t burn it from your mind. It’s not like you and Jaehyun had many encounters, or rather, pleasant encounters, but you can’t help yourself but stare at him from the corner of your eye. Jaehyun sits with poise and pride, but you can see the burden he carries in the way he slightly slouches and the exhausted sigh that wriggles from his lips.

As everyone eats, you can’t help but think what Jaehyun’s thinking about. You can tell he’s thinking about something from the tension in his brow and the small pout coming from his bottom lip. From time to time, you ignore the small moments where his arm or leg brushes against yours or when you both reach for the same dish. And there’s a sort of tension over the table as everyone silently hides their comments as their food reaches their lips.

Hades is the first to speak, “So, I’ve heard you’ve had quite the events lately,” his tone low and cautious.

You clear your throat, “Um, yes.”

You begin to tell him everything that’s happened from the start of Maeve to the event in the Phantasms Forest. Not leaving out a single detail, you didn’t even notice your hands tensing up until you felt warmth from another on top of your chilled skin. Turning to your mother, she nods to you in comfort, letting you know that you’re doing well and you’re strong for facing what you’ve been through. Hades listens closely, not reaching for his food and feeling the slight disgust from those who caused you harm. Truth be told, he knew what was happening and why it was happening to you. Slightly nodding at your mother, they both lifted themselves from their seats and walked out the door leaving you and Jaehyun alone.

You turned to the male to your right, “Where are they going?”

Jaehyun shrugs, grabbing the nearby plates, “Probably to Tartarus.”

“What?” You snapped up on your legs, immediately following him to the kitchen sink, “Why?

“I’m sure you know that’s where they’re keeping Eris,” Jaehyun spares you a glance as he begins soaking a sponge in soap.

“Yeah,” you crossed your arms, “but why are they going down there? To talk to her? What is she going to do? What are they going to do? How long is this going to take?”

Tired of the overload from your questions, Jaehyun turns to you. Unbeknown that you were leaning forward towards him as you spoke, your eyes widened as you came face to face with the hot-headed male. His eyes were a pool of darkness with a hint of brown like melted dark chocolate. You stood in front of him with your feet glued to the ground. Heat radiated off your body as you parted your lips. Jaehyun’s eyes flickered down. He sharply inhaled to only let it out as he turned away and began scrubbing the dishes again.

“Bring the dishes to me and I’ll wash them,” he said before you could turn away from him.

You clutched the collar of your shirt. What was that? Your fingers trembled around a plate when you realized that he didn’t even answer any of your problems.

Setting them on the counter next to him, you snapped, “You didn’t even reply to my questions.”

“You talk too much.”

Stunned, you purse your lips and walk away. He can clean the kitchen by himself. You sat yourself in their living room, plopping yourself on the couch. If it weren’t for the dim lamp that flickered in the far corner of the room, you would’ve walked around blindly. The walls were painted in black, the rug was black, and even the couch you sat on was black. Everything was black like a fire had torn through the palace. The only color that caught your attention was the pictures that sat on top of the unlit fireplace. Making your way towards the photos, you found family photos of Jaehyun and his parents. It looked like a regular family you would suspect in the human world, a mother and father playing with their toddler son in the park. Except it wasn’t a park and it wasn’t a regular family. The field Jaehyun played on was the Field of Asphodel, but it was beautiful, there was greenery, grass, and beautiful flowers that bloomed around little Jaehyun. You wondered what happened to the breathtaking scenery. Your eyes landed on a particular picture that made the corners of your lips lift in the slightest. There, laid little Jaehyun sleeping peacefully in the embrace of Cerberus who also laid in slumber around the little boy, sheltering him from the rain that penetrated to the Underworld. Cute. The faint blur of a finger covered the corner of the picture, you wondered who took this photo. You thought that maybe it was his mother, Persephone, who no one’s heard of for years. The last thing you heard was that Hades kidnapped her after eating six pomegranate seeds and she was forced to live six months in the Underworld and six months in the mortal world, Earth. But she hasn’t returned from her six months on Earth. And it’s been 20 years.

“No, I don’t know where she is, nor do I really care,” Jaehyun said beside you.

Jumping, you didn’t even realize he was there. Holding your chest, you panted, “I didn’t even say anything this time.”

“I know,” he glanced at you, his gaze flickering back to your lips, then lower to your neck, “but you were thinking it.”

“I-”

“Come, I might have some ointment left for your neck,” Jaehyun doesn’t even give you a chance to protest.

Grabbing your wrist, you obediently follow him back into the kitchen.

“Sit,” he commands.

You look around in question, “Where the hell am I going to sit?”

Jaehyun reached up to the upper cupboard, the bottom of his shirt slightly lifting with his shoulders to reveal his back, “on the counter, of course,” you averted your eyes somewhere else when he turned to face you, “unless you want to sit on my lap,” he smirks.

You shake your head, lifting yourself on the counter. Even if you sat on the counter, you were only tall enough to meet him at eye level. Snapping the cap open, the familiar smell of mint and ginger filled your nose as he dipped two fingers in the gooey substance. A very sinful scenario flashed across your mind as he pulled those fingers back out, his digits drenched in the healing fluid. Squeezing your legs together, you cleared your throat as he crept closer to you, but that only led to Jaehyun sliding his free hand around your nape to pull you closer.

“I don’t bite,” he whispers, that smirk returning.

“I didn’t ev-”

You tensed as Jaehyun’s fingertips brushed on your skin to apply the ointment. Both of your bodies were so close to each other, the only blockage being your knees that dug into this stiff abdomen. It also didn’t help that Jaehyun’s face was incredibly close to yours. With one movement, your lips would’ve met.

“Relax,” he whispers, his eyes switching up to meet yours.

Chills shoot down your spine, a sudden heat pooled at the bottom of your stomach at the breeze of his breath. But eventually, you relaxed. Until you felt his hand on your neck rubbing circles. He repeatedly dipped those long digits of his in the ointment and reapplied it to your neck. To be honest, you thought it looked fine, it was still sore and hurt in certain places but it felt like he was lathering you in it. Once in a while, you’d wince at the pressure Jaehyun’s fingertips pressed against some of the bruises.

“Sorry,” he’d murmur. You’d thin your lips but relax as soon as he apologizes, his voice sounding sincere and gentle.

Slightly turning to the side, you let out a troubled breath, sharply inhaling another, repeating those steps over again and again until Jaehyun slowly pulled away. His warm hand slipped from your nape and your breath trembled, the cold air settling on it as soon as he pulled away. You watched him set the ointment back where he got it from, not missing the flutter of his skin that revealed the slight muscles in his lower back. Oh boy, you sighed.

Jaehyun turned back to you, “You alright?”

You nodded, “Will it still be there by tomorrow?”

Jaehyun walked to you as you stayed glued to the counter, he hummed, “Considering that you almost met death twice in the span of two days, it’ll take a few days,” he was closer once again, “just be careful,” his voice in a low whisper.

You could feel his breath brisk your cheeks. You didn’t know if it was your own heat warming you up or the faint warmth of the words that escaped his plump lips. You felt his abdomen on the curl of your knees like before and there wasn’t a way to bring them closer because it’d reveal to him what you were thinking...or feeling. Maybe you weren’t thinking clearly, maybe you were just lonely. But the longer you stayed in front of him, your desire to kiss him grew. He’s been nothing but cold and mean, but he’s been so kind and taking care of you despite his spiteful aura. You sucked in your bottom lip, stopping whatever trembling words attempted to escape from the cage of your tongue.

You sucked in a sharp breath when Jaehyun’s hands slid to your waist.

“Don’t do that,” Jaehyun brought him closer to you, prying your legs open to create space for him.

You sucked in another sharp breath, “Do what?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Jaehyun seemed to be drawing closer to you, his gaze occasionally glancing at your lips as both of your breaths began to weigh down. Closing your eyes, you swore you felt his lips brush yours until you realized he wasn’t kissing you at all, but instead lifting you until you were back on your feet. With bodies still closer than the stars were to the moon, you tipped your head up to meet his gaze. Already looking at you, Jaehyun let out a heavy sigh.

You should’ve inhaled another breath because the next second, you found yourself against Jaehyun’s lips. Those lips that were so pink and so inviting met yours. It felt like Olympus was on pause and it was just you and him. No Maeve, no darkness, nothing. A heavy sensation of peace settled in the curve of your palms as you dragged them down his chest. You gasped when he bit your lip, sucking and, licking it for permission of entrance and you immediately complied, not giving it any thought at all. Those calloused hands of his wrapped around the small of your back, pulling you closer flush against his body, against his hips. Jaehyun’s tongue danced with yours, a gasp revering the way he held you close to him, the way with each stroke, you moaned enough to satisfy him. Until he pulled away.

With panting breaths and blinking eyes scattering across yours, you could see the panic in his eyes. You could see instant regret that pooled in the darkness of his eyes, yet you couldn’t help but inhale when he stepped away, the heat of his body replaced with his familiar coldness. Your eyes follow Jaehyun as he runs out of his home. Not saying anything to you, but leaving you alone in the darkness of his home. In the Underworld. Standing alone in his kitchen, you could hear the loud beating of your heart penetrating your ears, blocking the sound of droplets from the faucet, the hum of the house, and the confusion in your breath. Your fingers fly to your lips, the feeling burns yours like a scar. Was it something you said? Was it something you did? Gulping, you frantically searched the cupboards for a cup of water, thirst reaching your throat, but instead you found a section that opened up to bottles of whisky and wine.

Even better. Finding a drying cup in the sink, you poured yourself a glass of the bronze liquid, not caring for it’s age or make. You winced as the liquid scorched your throat, coughing at the slightly burning sensation that warmed your mouth, but anything was better than the searing feeling of his lips and the pain of when he pulled away.

[vermillioncrown]

Does ZYX do anything different as Xue Yang? I guess if they transmigrate in from birth its a more generic "how to move up in the world as a street orphan, street smarts" thing, versus say right around the end of sunshot when he becomes a Jintern

thank you anon for delineating the au, i really truly appreciate it

1) street orphan

zyx isn't a go-getter, and really hasn't truly suffered once in their life. (i know blah blah you cannot compare tragedies and trauma)

idk 50/50 tiny z!xy just fucking dies of cholera, or manages to scrap long enough to find a way into a sect (bc that's the best chance of survival)

calculating... best-best chance is either endearing themselves to the nie (but it's so fcking cold and hard to travel there as a starving orphan brat), or waiting out the sunshot campaign and beg jiang 'big-mad' cheng to let them into yunmeng jiang. or wait out and joing lanling jin under the evil jinternship, but that is definitely making a deal with a devil that z!xy would rather avoid.

(there's nothing z!xy can do for the state of the world. they can't even take care the state of themself).

maybe post-war wwx gains a little shidi that's too curious for their own good. too sticky. wwx can shove jc and jyl away with more force and guile, but he's at a loss for what to do with the single-minded focus of this pointy brat that keeps getting in his way. clings to him and starts blabbing about everything and nothing, and within that nothing there's something ("ahahaa - Xiao-Yang, you can't tell Xian-gege this stuff, you know Jiang-zongzhu doesn't want other people trying demonic cultivation -" "Xian-ge, I just wanna know!")

(based on relationship dynamic, z!xy is less shy about rambling and thinking. they aren't expected to be wwx's peer. all that matters is being the impetus for wwx himself to calm down, reassess, think outside the box)

wwx, instead of storming qiongqi path when wn is near death/dies, sneaks in earlier to look for the wen sibs.

"oh no" he realizes too late that z!xy has been following him. "was i that annoying? am i being punished???"

anyways, sticky rice grain z!xy. full annoyance mode, forcing wwx into shaping up.

=

2) jinternship fast-track

"FUCK" what can z!xy do besides act the part? it's about survival. they gotta be flexible. do things they don't want to do. maybe switch track from the casual sadism that canon-xy showed into a researcher's single-mindedness. don't drown in the abyss while swimming to safety.

nothing holds them here, not expectations, responsibilities to others, reputation. just their life. they gotta do enough for the jins to keep him around (now that he knows their secret), he needs to glean as much legit cultivation from them and resources as possible.

as long as they don't go fucking hogwild and slaughter the yueyang chang clan, xxc and sl won't go chasing him down. z!xy can cause a little accident in lanling, make a big mess for the jins to clean up and explain and fuck off

(if all ends well, they are free to wander and roam. maybe they end up convincing jgy that jgs ain't shit.)

let's say things don't end well.

they now have an even worse reputation than in canon, regardless of body count. lanling jin throws everything on z!xy, jgy&jgs denounce them, and there's no protection. z!xy is on the run

'well, canon-xy was able to hide for so long in yi city. why can't i? there's nothing to lose at this point'

z!xy is now stuck in yi city and its surrounding townships. stuck with this monstrous reputation (fucked up enough to overshadow wwx's for the moment to allow him to regroup - you're fucking welcome, yiling patriarch!) stuck with a bastardized cultivation method, twisted from what they had to study and what little they could steal from the legitimate side of things.

this sucks. at least the little blind girl stealing from them doesn't give a shit.

("oh, for fuck's sake - you can't just keep spending your money on -" z!xy is appalled at a-qing's eating habits. "fine, if i'm indirectly feeding you, i might as well feed you right" they say, dragging her back to their homebase in yi city)

if not canon-xy, something else would happen to xxc. his way would have him stumbling into things people preferred left covered. would any villain worth their salt leave champions of justice like xxc and sl together and functioning? no. something happens to them. they get separated, hurt, something.

"fucking damn it!" z!xy howls while dragging an unconscious daozhang back to base.

(something something kinda-enemies-to-lovers or whatever)

(bc z!xy has done horrible things as a choice to survive in this way, and they will acknowledge it. that must be reconciled with xxc's and/or sl's sense of morality)

[selfilluminatingkyu]

Dancing with the Devil(s): Chapter II

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The Underground Auction is no place for the faint of heart, nor for the weak of stomach.

F!Reader x Adult Trio; this takes place during the same timeline as Season 3 of HxH but the events with Kuropika and the crew are just shifted a little. This may end up changing though, but for now, run on that premiss. 

Warnings: Swearing; Human Trafficking (Reader is sold to the Mafia); Brief mentions of Child Abuse; Grammatical Errors (yeah I am going to warn y’all bout that.) 

Upon arriving to hotel you would be staying at until you were moved to the holding area for the auction, you were whisked away by a team of women and pampered to spa treatments like you’d never experienced before. The Don who had bought you would not be in attendance, as Yuuto, the man who you’d come to know from your…acquisition…had told you. 

“He’s sorry he can’t be here. He was actually looking forward to meeting you. But he’s certain he’ll have the opportunity later on. I think he’s of the opinion that one of the other Dons will buy you for themselves…or their sons.” Yuuto says lazily after you’ve come back from all of the pampering, undecided if you’re going to look at it as a treat or getting merchandise ready for sale. 

You didn’t know what you’d expected when he’d relayed the Don’s message to you, but it had not been that. You don’t remember how you answered, sudden exhaustion creeping up on you and causing you to nearly pass out where you stood. Looking back on it now, you wonder if you’d been drugged so that you didn’t make much of a fuss while you were waiting for the festivities to begin. You began to think that was actually the case as you were almost constantly in a fog up until you were moved the night before the auction to a different area. Something was amiss, that much, despite the brain fog, you were certain of. So there you had waited until d-day had arrived. 

You had been placed in a waiting area, to be called upon and showed around to the representatives of the wealthier families anticipated to bid on the higher ticket items (and those who had paid the hefty fee to view you prior to your scheduled debut) when Yuuto was suddenly coming in with another man, a man you had never met before but had a strange feeling to him, and were being whisked away quickly and quietly from where you were. You had felt this feeling before, when you been in the presences of those with strong nen abilities, but it wasn’t as potent as some of the people you’d crossed paths with. There had been a man once, who’s aura had caused you to stop and watch his back as he moved through the crowd. The power that radiated off of him had caused your heart to skip several beats…and not in a pleasant way. 

Since that day, you’d never felt power like that and, if you were being honest, you hoped you never did again. You don’t know what it was about that man, but it wasn’t the power he undeniably wielded that frightened you, no, it was the dark and sinister undertone to it that did. A presences that indicated to you nothing short of nefarious intentions. Sometimes though, you couldn’t help yourself and wondered about the man. Wondered if maybe you’d been to harsh in your snap judgment and that the man was the same as you: a product of his upbringing and while his abilities may have been fostered from dark ways, he did not use them as such. 

But as you sat in your new room, surrounded by other items that were going to be up for auction, you realized that it didn’t matter, not anymore at least. You hadn’t seen that man since then, some three years ago, and you doubted you would ever see him again after tonight. Not that you were sure you would even want to. Pushing the thoughts to the side, you stood up from your spot and began wandering around the room, looking at all of the pieces that were up for auction and wondered what was the most expensive item in the room when suddenly you heard shouting and gun shots, you could hear people running around as men shouted in the hallways. What they were shouting about you couldn’t understand but you knew from the tone that they were in a panic and it sounded like chaos even from inside the room. 

Turning back to all of the items in the room, you began looking around for something, anything really, to protect yourself with. Crouching down you, began peeling the lids off of boxes, before hastily putting them back into place. One after the other had weirder and weird things in them; rare items, cursed items, artifacts from long gone civilizations, mummified body parts, full mummies, and in the last lid you lift, scarlet eyes. The lid clattered to the floor as you dropped it, dropped into a squat and throwing a hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming. You had heard about the atrocity that had happened to the Kurta clan, heard the stories about their famed eyes, but to see a pair, not attached to a body, was an experience you could’ve lived several life time without. 

Placing the lid back onto the box, you bit back a whimper and sent a silent prayer into the sky, hoping that whomever these had belonged to had suffered unnecessarily. Your heart went out to them and the pain all those alike. The unnecessary violence of the world was something you had never understood, especially in this instance. While you could not lie, they were beautiful indeed, to covet something like that to go to such lengths made your stomach flip. It took a special sort of evil to find pleasure in the pain of others; it took an even greater evil to personally inflict it, knowing a life was on the line and continue forward and unabashed anyway. 

As you sad crouched, hidden by the stacks of boxes, the door flung open and before you could even lift your head up to see what was going on, you were being cloaked in darkness. 

The void wasn’t so much as being asleep as it was being locked into a padded closet, a sound proof one at that. There was no telling how long you’d been in there and after counting for several hours, you’d given up figuring at some point, you’d get out. Not wanting to alert the person, or persons, who had taken the auction items that you were included amongst those things you remained silent. Instead, you bided your time by looking through the items, investigating and continuing your search for a weapon, smearing a little of your blood from your finger, which your cut on a ragged corner, on the boxes you deemed worthy of a least inflicting enough damage to give you time to escape should your search turn up entirely useless. As you continued to move forward, you were beginning to think that’s exactly what was going to happen. You were nearing the end of boxes when you came up a necklace that caught your eye. Looking at it, you idly wondered exactly what was so special about it. It was inlaid with millions of dollar worth of precious and rare gems like the other piece you’d come upon. Nor was it something anyone of note had worn, died in, or the like, making it precious for those reasons. No, as far as you could tell, it was quite unassuming compared to all the other items you knew were to be sold and that, in and of itself, made you move cautiously. The silver chain was nice enough were you any common person purchasing it from a jeweler and the stones that rested in a sort of star pattern were lovely but again, it perplexed you as to why it was here. 

Sighing, you placed the lid back down and moved onto the other boxes before coming up empty and with that you flopped down onto the ground, or what you assume was ground in this…where exactly where you? The only thing you had heard when everything happened was a swoosh like a bag…so maybe that’s where you were? Yuuto had made a comment about the Dons having special beings at their disposal, beings who were incredible nen users. So maybe who’d ever taken you was one of them. You weren’t entirely sure and as it stood, you didn’t want to risk the element of surprise you currently had on something that might be true. For all you knew, whomever had caused the stir-up the other night had been the person who’d taken you. And if that were the case…you had no way of knowing if they were friend or foe. 

Trying to run through a plan in your head of what exactly you would do when you got out where ever it was you currently were, your “world” began to shift and suddenly the abyss you seemed to be sitting in was brought back into the world of the living and you were among not only the items in your own void, but the other items that were up for auction as well, and there were voice, several of them and all of them foreign. 

“That was uneventful.” A soft voice spoke, seemingly to take breathy pauses between each word, almost like when a compute regurgitated what you’d typed but lagged a little. Male, older than you, but not by much, he was close to you but hadn’t seemed to notice you yet. 

“Yeah, yeah, we heard you the first dozen times. You didn’t get to torture the guy like you’d hoped. We got it.” Another male voice, this one more jovial spoke but clearly agitated with the younger male. “How long you think this is gunna take?” 

“Don’t know. The boss just wants it done, so we’ll get it done.” This voice is female and you think that maybe she’s around your age or close to it. She’s the closest one to you and drawing closer with every word she takes and suddenly you’re wondering if you’ve been caught and begin calculating what is closest to you and within your reach. 

You don’t get much further in your thought when you feel a presence come up behind you and a sudden pressure on your neck, nicking it slightly causing you to wince and let out a small hiss. You wonder how you missed this man sneaking up when you suddenly feel a spike of fear run through you veins. The man behind you is powerful, very powerful but his aura is also very sinister. Sinister enough to almost make you wish that you’d been left alone to be sold. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? A stowaway? My, my little dove, what a peculiar place to hide. Hoping to catch a show?” He whispers in your ear and the whimsical way in which he speaks almost makes you forget that he’s holding something against your neck that’s sharp enough to slide the skin, but clearly not metal as it’s not cold. 

“Hisoka, what are you doing?” The female voice from earlier sounds again and some part of you hopes that, despite clearly knowing this man, she can be a friend in this situation rather than a foe…which this man seems to be shifting into. 

Nudging you forward with his other hand, keeping the weapon close enough to make his intention known but not enough to draw anymore blood, you begin to move forward, legs and heart heavy. Unintentionally, you’d gotten your hopes up when you’d been freed from the void and hadn’t been placed back in your holding cell, thinking that maybe fate had smiled upon you. However, now, you knew that maybe you’d been cast into an even worse situation than you’d been in initially. You couldn’t be certain that these people were going to be your end…but you also couldn’t say to the alternative either. 

“Look what I found.” The man named Hisoka says, amusement laced in his words as he brings you out of the proverbial shadows and into the light that is provided by the stage and you idly realize that the auction has started back up, meaning at some point your number will come up and your clock will run out. It’s also in this moment as you watch the stage that you realize that the people in front of you are staring, probably because someone has said something to you and you have yet to respond. 

“What did you do to her Hisoka?” Another man asks, he’s handsome with his blonde hair and green eyes, but there’s something about him that makes your skin crawl and a take a step back into the man who’s guiding you forward. 

“I didn’t do anything, did I little dove? I simply found her hiding in behind some boxes. Impressive abilities to have been able to hide from us, don’t you think?” Hisoka says, startling you slightly from his face being beside yours. Turning slowly, you look at him and find that you aren’t entirely wrong when the words whimsical and magical came to mind as he spoke. 

He’s clown yet mystical in his appearance, his pink/red hair plays right into that, as does the small amount of clothing you can see. But what makes it is the lime green tear and blue star that reside under his  eyes, like cards of a suit. It’s also then that you realize what he had pressed up against your neck was a playing card. What a peculiar man, you think idly before turning your head completely forward again. 

“Regardless of whether you did something or not to her, it doesn’t answer why she’s here and what the hell should be do with her.” The girl’s voice from earlier that you heard comes from a girl who truly doesn’t seem much older than you with pink hair and an outfit that reminds you somewhat or a nurse’s attire. As petit as she might be, she radiates with power, as do the rest of the people here, but in a quiet, probably underestimated sort of way. 

“Maybe…she was willing…to risk her life…to see…us.” The small man who walks forward does not match the face you had seen in your head when you’d heard his voice initially, not that you are displeased, as he too is quite attractive. However, the look in his eye and the clear bloodlust in them makes you want to run from where you stand. The other man earlier had said that this little one had been unhappy with the amount of torture he’d gotten to inflict on someone else. 

Was that to be your fate? 

“Maybe Feitan has a point.” And finally, the only other person you heard speak steps forward. This man is just as tall as the man behind you and just as intimidating, however, he looks far more normal. “Were you willing to risk your life to catch a glimpse of the illustrious Phantom Troupe sweetheart?” The way he says it is clearly mocking, like you’re some fucked up fangirl who’s come to worship her even more fucked up idol. 

However, to worship someone, you should probably have an idea as to who they are in the first place. And you don’t think you can make it any clearer as you furrow your eyebrows and look around at the small group of people before you wondering if this is a name they’ve given themselves or one that was given to them. Either way, you try your hardest not to laugh at the hilarity of the situation you find yourself in. Are you biting back a hysterical laughter because of the ridiculousness of the situation or because you’ve come to realize just how absolutely fucked you are? 

“I’m sorry, but…am I supposed to know what that means? Phantom Troupe? I take it that means you all, but…I don’t know exactly what that means outside of that.” You say thoughtfully, hoping that if you appear non-confrontational and innocent enough, these people, who clearly more foe than friend, will simply let you be. 

The man who spoke last goes to open his mouth again before another woman walks forward, holding up her hand and making her way closer to you. She seems the most normal out of the entire lot, dressed as the presenter for the items for the auction tonight, although that’s clearly a farce because you knew the woman who was truly supposed to be doing it was much different in appearance than this woman. 

“What do you mean exactly?” She asks you thoughtfully, watching you carefully and you can’t help but wonder if she has some sort of ability that lets her read your mind…or maybe between what you say. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause confusion. I mean…I don’t know who you people are. I don’t know what is or who is the Phantom Troupe? So that would mean no, I wasn’t risking my life trying to catch a glimpse.” You say and she looks to the others before nodding and looking back towards you. 

“If you weren’t trying to catch a glimpse at us…then how did you come to be here then little dove?” Hisoka asks and you blink, trying to decide how you should go about answering them before deciding that the saying “the truth can set you free” may very well prove true in this moment. 

“Same way the rest of the items in that area did, out of where it was they had been stored.” You mutter, looking around the group as they seem to parse through what you’ve just told them. 

“You were with the items over there?” The blonde man in purple says and you nod, watching as he looks to the woman who arrives late. She nods at him and the group seems to collectively be trying to decide if you’re an item or were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time when everything went down. “So if you were with the items, then it’s safe to assume that you are one?” 

You nod again and the group seems to pause for a second before the small man who you think had been called Feitan, steps forward and speaks up. “I think we should kill her.” 

Under normal circumstances, a normal person would probably lose the color from their face as those words were uttered. Instead there is an instant cleansed feeling that takes over you. While death certainly isn’t the choice you would have had for yourself in life…you don’t know what being bought and sold would entail. However, on the flip side, you also have no idea what being left to your devices with this lot will also mean. Maybe death is the best option you have, so long as it isn’t drawn out and torturous. And if the little one is who will be dealing the final card…you aren’t so sure you’ll get a quick end. 

“The boss said to make copies of all of the items here and to present them on stage and bring the real ones back to the hideout. You know that as well as I do.” The pink haired girl says and Feitan clearly does not agree with that as he makes a noncommittal noise that alerts you to his distaste. 

“Koropi can’t make duplicates that move and talk.” The final girl says. Her speech is childlike and she cocks her head as she looks you over, as though you are a puzzle to be solved. At some point, between when you’d been pulled out from behind the crates, when they’d first started engaging with you and now, a vacuum like thing had appear in her possession and the sight of it has you thinking that if they do decide to kill you, your death will not be quick and painless like you had hoped. 

The Phantom Troupe, not all of the members you deduced after listening to them go back and forth for a little while as to what to do with you, finally decide on calling their boss and having him instruct them as to what should be done with you. The answer is simple: make a clone and do what they had done with all the other pieces, place it on a cart and wheel it in. Koropi had stated that while in most instances, he could not create something that moved and talked, he could if it were just one and he had a little something extra. The extra being your blood. 

With that, he could create a clone that would last for a little while before the effects of the blood would wear off and your clone would become like the rest of the fraudulent items. But at that point…what did it matter, the Troupe would no longer be around. 

So as you watched the woman Pakunoda wheel your clone onto the stage, you and the rest of the real items were moved, Hisoka and Machi keeping close to you as you were moved into the back of another car and driven to wherever their “hideout” was. 

As you watched the scenery, you began to run through all of the possibilities of what could happen. They had given you no hints as to what their boss was going to do with you and you couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or a curse. A blessing in that it meant if he’d decided that he was going to kill you, you would not be left to stew in it on your ride over, wondering endlessly in what way exactly he planned to off you. 

On the other side, however, was the fact that you had no idea what your fate was at this moment. Undecided if these people were going to kill you, keep you, torture you, or do god know’s what. That in and of itself was driving you mad. You simply wanted to know what exactly it was that you could expect when you got to wherever it was you were going so you’d be mentally prepared for whatever the outcome ended up being. 

“If you keep working yourself up like that, you’ll be in an absolute tizzy by the time we arrive. He won’t kill you…not right away anyway. And if he does, well…he won’t make it painful. He can be ruthless, but he’s not that evil.” Hisoka said and you looked at the imposing man beside you, wondering why he seemed to be trying to calm you down. 

From the short period of time you’d spent with the man, you had quickly grasped that he was most certainly the odd man out from the group, and by his own doing it seemed. Not only that, but it was evident that he didn’t do anything he didn’t wish too. He had motives behind every action he took and the way he went about things was with the sole purpose of achieving a goal that benefited him. If, by some chance, it happened to benefit the group as well, well then that was lovely for the group. 

So his concern caused you pause. What exactly was it that he saw in your that would benefit him? It made you question even more what was about to happen. What end could he see that you couldn’t? It wasn’t fair given that he knew exactly where, who, and what you would be up against when you go there, but still…there was just something about this situation that didn’t sit well with you, outside of the obvious reasons. 

“You seem very sure of that.” You say softly, looking out the window before turning back to look at him. You know they’re confident in themselves and their abilities, that’s evident by the fact that they have neither bound you nor covered your eyes or ears. They must know with absolute certainty that you either won’t try to escape…or won’t make it out alive. 

“I am. You pose not threat to us or him alone, nor do you have abilities that he would want—”

“Hisoka. Enough!” Machi, the pink haired girl, spits from her spot in the driver’s seat, eying you through the rearview window. “What Hisoka means to say is the Boss doesn’t kill without purpose. And your death would serve no purpose. However…that doesn’t mean you get to leave.” 

You take what she says into consideration and nod. That wasn’t anything you hadn’t already figured out. Regardless of who they were, all organized crime groups worked essentially the same. Mafia, Troupe, Gangs, ect. the thought process around them was same at the end of the day, give or take a few things, so you’d figured their own boss would run his ship the same way any other master would run theirs. Evidently, you hadn’t been mistaken in that thought process. 

The two seemed to realize they weren’t going to get much out of you after that and the car remained silent for the rest of the ride. When you pulled up to a lofty mansion with a gate and sprawling grounds, you were shocked to say the least. This was not what you had expected in the least. What you had expected was some rundown abandoned building on the edge of town away from everyone. This lavish grandeur was not it though. 

Leaning forward in your seat a little, Hisoka chuckles beside you. “Not what you were expecting little dove?” 

You didn’t bother answering instead, looking around at what you could. You didn’t see a single guard around, not that you had expected to. There didn’t seem to be any visible forms of traps or delays anywhere either. Again, they may just not be visible to you. The car pulls to a stop in front fo a set of double doors and two men walk out. One who is very large with scars on his face and the other who is tall, and just as imposing as the other, but carrying a katana. Hisoka reaches around you and opens the door, nudging you to get out as the two men walk further down the steps and closer to you. 

“Pretty sure the boss said to only bring back the auction items.” The larger man says as he eyes you carefully. 

“She was an auction item.” Machi says monotonously, coming around from the front of the car and indicating with her head to walk inside. “She’s the prize gem of the auction this year. The last item to be bid upon in the first round. You know what that means.” 

Both men seem to do a slow blink as you walk in between them and up on into the house. The entryway is beautiful, something that you would have done for your own home given the opportunity. You didn’t know if that would be an option in your future, but it was lovely to witness it nonetheless. As you walked further into the home, you highly doubted that they had decorated and then you wondered if they had acquired this home via legal ones…or by force. The thought alone dampened the beauty of the home and your internal smile fell. The look on your face remained neutral, giving nothing away and hopefully kept all of your fears and anxieties under wraps from the knowing eyes all around you. 

“I don’t remember saying anything about bringing a person back.” The voice made you stop dead in your tracks as it brought your focus to the other person in the room and your heart stopped before leaping into action. While you can’t see him, nothing more than the back of his head with his slicked back black hair, you can definitely feel him. This aura, this presence was familiar to you and the exact one you had hoped to never cross path’s with again. Sucking in a breath you hopelessly wondered what you’d done in a past life to exact this fate. 

“You said to bring all of the auction items…naturally…” Hisoka says, a smirk ever present in his speech, making you wonder if he has always been like this or if something in his life triggered this manic personality. 

The man they’re speaking to stands up and for a moment, you almost close your eyes, fear racing through your veins and irrationally making you think that if you don’t see him, don’t see his face, he won’t be able to hold that over your head; won’t be able to use that as a reason why he has to kill you. But you don’t, instead you stand stock still, like a prey praying the predator won’t snuff them out, and await a fate you doubt you’d have be able to change regardless of what you did. Instead as he rounds the sofa, you cast your eyes down, tilting your head slightly, like a submissive dog baring its throat to the alpha and hope by some miracle, this man will see you are no threat nor of any value you and let you go. 

You see feet stop in front of you and feel an ever perceptive gaze rove over your. You hold your breath and pray for mercy to any being that will hear your cry, good or bad. You don’t care, maybe even hope a little that it’s bad because surely…that would be the only type of being to defeat another of its own kind. Slowly a hand reaches out and you have to physically stop of nerve in your body from flinching. Two fingers press under your chin, the thumb resting on it as it corrects the position of your head and lifts it upwards, forcing you gently to look at the face and body it’s attached to. 

The man before you is much, much younger than you anticipated, no more than a couple years older than yourself. He’s attractive, very much so, with a prominent brow and perfect nose, large grey eyes and chiseled jaw and chin. When the members of the Troupe hadn’t spoken briefly about their boss, you had not pictured a man like this. No, initially it hadn’t been a man at all. But when they’d said “he” the vision in your head had mirrored much more closely to the man with the scars on his face and hanging ears. This man, young man, reminded you more of the grad students you saw on campus than the leader of a group of murders and thieves. 

“You know me…but did not expect me.” He voice flints about like it’s a question but their absolution in the way he says it, eyes calculative and ever watchful. 

“No, to both. I don’t know you, I have crossed paths with you before. You were in my city once, you walked by me while I was walking my sister home from school and I felt your aura. I felt crazy when the people around me didn’t seem to have a reaction at all but my entire being felt…dark.” You let your mouth get away from you before you realize it, remembering that day and how your parents had written you off. Strong Nen users weren’t common where you were from, or at least weren’t common in the fact that they flaunted their abilities. But you’d known this man was in a class of his own. Clearing your throat you blinked and cleared your eyes as you looked at him again. “And no, I didn’t expect you. Although…I’m not entirely certain what I did expect. I’m not entirely well versed in you and your ‘Phantom Troupe.’” 

The latter seems to take him and the new men by surprise. He masks his shock quickly, the other two seems to revel in it. So much so that the man with the katana begins to laugh. 

“You’ve never heard of the Phantom Troupe? Really?” He says in such an incredulous way that you almost begin to question the statement you’ve made before stopping yourself. 

“I lived quite a sheltered life so you’ll have to excuse my ignorance.” With that, they all seem to be appeased for the moment. 

The leader cocks his head to the side as he observes you before looking at the others in the room. “Help the others unload everything. While you all are doing that, I’ll have a chat with our…guest. Should you need us, we’ll be in the study.” He says and they nod, some of them grumbling as they move to go back outside. 

Although, as you are turned and ushered in the opposite direction, you notice Hisoka waiting and standing back from the group, eyes clearly on you as he watches his boss lead you in the opposite direction from them, him. There’s something in his eyes that you think resembles concern but wave it off quickly as you are certain you must be seeing things. 

Their leader was not kidding as he lead you into a large study, a room filled with books from wall to celling on one side and floor to ceiling windows on the other. There’s also a fire place, large desk and two sofas, with matching chairs and coffee table to round out the large room. It’s beautifully decorated and again, you wonder who this home actually belongs to. 

“This place isn’t your, is it?” You ask before you can stop yourself from biting your tongue and instantly feel the back of your neck heat up. 

Slip-ups like these had been common when you were younger, your natural curiosity getting the better of you. But your mother had beaten them out of you quite early on, as talking out of turn was undesirable in the wife of a high ranking man. Women were to be seen and not heard, is what you mother had told you prior to smacking you in the face. You’d learned quickly that you did not like the taste of blood in your mouth and your questions could be answered by other means. 

“It is actually. Not that it is used all that often. I bought this house some time ago. Why, did you think we had killed the people who did own it?” 

“Yes, that seemed the most logical give what little I have learned about you and yours.” He seems taken aback by your truthfulness but recovers quickly, chuckling softly under his breath. 

“According to you, you don’t know much about ‘me and mine,’ so how is it you’ve already deduced so much about us?” His question is simple enough, but there is a definite edge to it. Despite his relaxed demeanor, even as he leans back against his desk, arms slayed as if to seem nonthreatening, you can still feel the aura rolling off of him, ready to strike at a moments notice. 

“Because, for the most part, all organized crime groups run the same. Their motives might be different, and the way things are executed may vary too. But at the heart of it…there isn’t much difference.” 

“You speak as if you have experience?”

“Not quite, no.” Again, you are surprised to find that this man seems stumped by your answer but he smirks all the same, looking down at his crossed feet before back up at you from behind his fridge…and you can’t help but wonder how many women—and probably men as well, he doesn’t strike you as the discriminating type—have fallen prey to that look, they eyes, they posture and speech…like a fly in a spider’s web. 

“Care to enlighten me?” He asks gently and had you not been training for situations like this your entire life, you know you too would fall right into his web as well. 

“If you’ll pay me back in kind.” You are completely taken aback as the man laughs. It’s melodious and were you not in such a position as you were, you would have smiled and giggled yourself, ever hopeful to hear it again and again. It was a lovely sound and one you were certain he probably didn’t make often, and for that you became even more on edge. 

“Alright, consider my interest even more peaked. Who are you and why exactly has the mafia deemed you as such a valuable item to be sold?” His question shouldn’t stir-up so many emotions as it does, but as the saying goes, you are only human and the wave of emotional turmoil his question strikes in you leaves you almost gasping. 

“I’m nobody really and honestly…I don’t know what it is exactly that has everyone’s interest so peaked. Maybe my parents lied. I’m not entirely certain. All I can tell you is…is that I’ve been raised to be the perfect wife for a powerful man. My parents raised me for the sole purpose of elevating their status, their wealth, their power. You asked if I spoke from experience? While I obviously was never in a position as the wife of a crime lord, I was raised to be one and I prized myself on being an asset, not a burden. As for whether or not that alone makes me worth all of the money that the Don who bought spent on me and anticipated on being spent to purchase me…I could not tell you.”

After you complete your story, you look up from looking at your hands to see the man before you looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face, one that brought Hisoka to mind and you wondered why you kept envisioning these men to have forlorn looks on their faces. That was simply absurd and thinking like that was only going to lead you to getting seriously injured, or worse dead. No, you had to remind yourself their were worse fates than death and you had no doubt that the little one, Feitan, was more than well versed at serving that up with delight. 

He nods his head and rubs his chin, walking from his desk and over to the couch across from your own. Sitting down, he rests his elbows on his knees before looking up at you. “Tell me what you know about Nen?” 

His question throws you off a little and you furrow your brows, not entirely tracking where he’s going with this. “I know that it exists and that it has multiple subsections of it and that it’s predominately used to fit. But other than that not much.” 

“Can you tell when others have it? A strong Nen that is?” He looks at you intently as he asks and you wonder what exactly is this man’s capabilities. 

Hisoka made a comment about you not having “anything for the boss to take” and at the time, you’d given it no thought. Thinking maybe, Hisoka had meant it in a sexual way, thinking that at your age you were no longer virginal, which he was wrong about, that was one of the key selling points for you. Property to be completely dominated and never claimed by other man. Now, however, you wondered if it somehow was linked back to this man’s nen ability. 

“Yes, as I said earlier, I had felt your aura before. I can usually tell when people have a strong presence, or not. Even when it’s faint I can feel it. Usually that’s in children though or those who have no idea what Nen is. Might I ask why exactly?” 

“What about now? Can you still sense my aura?” He asks and you sit there, looking at him as though he has six heads. 

“Of course I can…why wouldn’t I be able to?” You ask him incredulously and the look of awe on his face is so prominent you know that you couldn’t have imagined it. 

“You can still see feel my aura?” 

“Yes, I’d have to be dead not to with how strong your aura is. I don’t like it.” You say, and wonder how you’ve managed to make two mistakes in the span of only a couple of minutes in this man’s presence. Deciding to go with it, as this may very well be your last day, you resolve yourself to say and ask whatever comes to mind. “I also don’t like that I don’t know your name.” 

If your first comment hadn’t thrown him, the second one certainly has seemed to and he looked at you again as if you are some wonder of the world. Eying you suspiciously before getting up and moving around. He says nothing as he walks outside the room and then comes back moments later, motioning for you to stand up. 

“If you can pass this test, I’ll tell you my name and much more.” As he says that he holds up a sash and proceeds to tie it over your eyes making sure you can not see before leading you out of the room. 

“Is this where I die?” You can’t help but ask and you can hear the breathy chuckle next to your ear. 

“No, it’s not. If anything, this may very well be the moment in which you start to truly live.” 

You continue to walk for a little bit, before he stops you, instructing you to leave the blind fold on and, probably, checking to make sure you can’t see anything. There are several people in this room, more so than earlier. And you wonder if this is all of the troupe. 

“Tell me…how many people are in this room?” He asks and you sigh. 

“Including you and I, there’s 15.” 

“And now?” He asks and this time you let a loud, exasperated sigh. 

“No one has suddenly dropped dead, so the number still remains at 15.” At that, the voices in the room seem to pick up. To say they seemed shocked is an understatement. 

“How is that even possible?”

“Has anyone like that ever existed?”

“I wasn’t…taking this…serious…let me have…another…go.” 

And so on and so forth. As more and more time seemed to tick by, the group seemed to become more and more in aw of what was going on. All the while, you were still confused and in the dark—literally and metaphorically—as to what had just happened that had them such in arms. 

“You still didn’t answer my earlier question.” You say softly, knowing he can full well hear you above all of his members questions. 

“Chrollo. Chrollo Lucilfer. That is my name kitten and you are far more extraordinary than anyone has ever given you credit for. I can’t wait to see just what it is you are fully capable of.” 

[varyen]

home is wherever i’m with you

I wrote a little Childe x Zhongli fic last night. Here’s the AO3 link. Under cut because of lenght. 

It’s the rain, Zhongli thinks, the rain does something to people, especially at night. It has a way of washing away facades and lies and oftentimes brings out confessions between people … — lovers.

The rain is heavy in Liyue this night. 

Zhongli doesn’t remember when the rain started nor does he know when it will end — in his humble opinion, it shall not. There is something peaceful about the rain, the steady sound of drops hitting the soil and the soft smell of rainwater lingering in the air. It’s something so simple and yet so eternal — the rain has always been while the rest around him evolved and changed. 

The streets are empty and cold in Liyue this night, the rain and the freezing wind keeping the people in their homes, tucked away behind their fireplaces and spending the time with their loved ones in privacy rather than out on the streets. 

It’s the same for Zhongli; he likes to believe himself to experience something mortal this night. The simplicity of it; it crawls under his skin.

The window is cracked open just a bit but there are no noises coming from the outside; there is no turmoil, none of the busy noises that usually go hand and hand with Liyue Harbour, the sound of the crowds and people and work. Tonight, there is just the rain. 

 Zhongli sits on the bed, a cup of tea on the nightstand next door to him, the book in his hands open but both long forgotten. 

His attention lies on Childe and Childe alone — the Fatui Harbinger of danger and wrath, sleeping peacefully next to him, his breath even and his legs tangled with Zhongli’s. He’s relaxed against Zhongli and his body rises and sinks in a slow rhythm. His slender fingers are wrapped around Zhongli’s wrists softly, barely holding on.

The delicate sound of the rain falling outside and Childe’s deep, rhythmic breath creates a melody in Zhongli’s head so full of yearning and love that the Archon almost can’t recognize himself.

Is this mortality?, he wonders, his eyes wandering over Childe’s relaxed features, a faint smile covering his face. 

Is this what mortality will be like? Moments so precious like this — in all of his long life Zhongli cannot remember being soft. He’s always been as hard as stone, had to be, even with peace among the land, he has been hardened and formed by centuries of war and slaughters. Softness was never a luxury Rex Lapis could afford — Ah, Zhongli stops himself, a faint smile on his face; but he no longer is Rex Lapis. The burden of his Gnosis, the burden of his name, the burden of the divine; it was all lifted off his heavy shoulders. It finally feels like he’s able to breathe. 

And now, with Rex Lapis deceased and bygone, will he, Zhongli, be able to afford the luxury of softness, of vulnerability? Maybe, he thinks to himself and eyes Childe.

“Your tea still warm?” Childe’s sleepy voice rips Zhongli softly out of his thoughts — the Fatui has one eye open, staring at him with sleep still smudged all over his face. 

“I’m afraid not”, Zhongli answers, his lips still carved up slightly enough for Childe to recognize his smile. 

He yawns and turns around, resting his head on his hands. His eyes are sharper now, more perceiving but his face is still made soft by sleep. “It’s late, Zhongli. You should go to sleep.” - “I find much more rest in watching you”, Zhongli replies and finally closes that book in his lap and puts it away — he’s lost his interest in it as soon as Childe fell asleep. 

“It’s a peaceful night”, Zhongli adds, his head making a slight movement towards the open window. The rain hasn’t stopped or decreased and Childe hums in acknowledgement, his everblue eyes throwing a quick glance outside — the orange light of the lanterns is almost magical in the wet night, clashing against the dark, warm and yet cold at once, a paradox that cannot be explained — just like either of them, Zhongli and Childe, in their own ways, and without so much as having to look at each other, they know that they’re both thinking the same thing. 

Childe leans upwards, his hands running over Zhongli’s arm like a faint whisper. “I don’t know for how much longer the Tsaritsa will let me stay”, he whispers against the rain. Childe’s voice is tainted. 

The night is peaceful until Childe decides that it isn’t.

Zhongli’s eye twitches but the rest of this face remains as neutral as he can manage. It’s the rain, Zhongli thinks, the rain does something to people, especially at night. It has a way of washing away facades and lies and oftentimes brings out confessions between people … — lovers. 

Zhongli tilts his head — in all his long, long life he’s never met quite a challenge like Childe — everything about him is surreal; his decisions impulsive and his emotions reckless in a way that it moves something deep within Zhongli — he can’t quite grasp it, he can’t quite comprehend it. It must be love, Zhongli thinks to himself. It must be the kind of love only a god can give.

 “What about you?” Zhongli asks, looming over Childe like a dark shadow, eyes narrowed. 

Within Childe, something seems to crack — his features derail and he looks away, as if ashamed, and suddenly he’s much smaller. 

“I wish I could stay”, he whispers so quietly, Zhongli almost mistakes his voice for the rain. 

“You can”, Zhongli replies simply. There is a certain warmth in the Archon’s voice, a certain tone that rings right through Childe and punches a dagger in his heart. 

Childe looks up to him, eyes wide open, cheeks flustered and his mouth slightly agape. 

“And if you cannot, well… I can follow you to Shneznaya. I am no longer bound to Liyue”, Zhongli stops for a second and smiles again. “Home is wherever I am with you.” 

Childe just stares back at him — the Harbinger looks so vulnerable in this moment, so fragile, Zhongli is sure he could break him with less than his fingers. He could swear that Childe’s eyes swill up with tears but the Harbinger blinks away quickly. 

“I have nothing to offer you”, Childe suddenly breathes, his fingers wrapping tightly around Zhongli’s wrists. 

Zhongli is quiet for a moment, processing what Childe just said before he chuckles low. Really, Childe is one of a kind but Zhongli knows a thing or two about patience. 

“I have been worshipped, Ajax”, Zhongli starts and Childe’s eyes open wider as if he’d only now realize who Zhongli is and what power he holds, still, even without his Gnosis. 

“I have been worshipped in blood and sacrifices and many more things worse. I have slaughtered and taken. I have led and protected.  I built Liyue and watched over it for thousands of years. The people have given me everything over these millennia and there is nothing I want except you.” 

His hands slowly cup Childe’s cheeks, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin underneath the Fatui’s eyes. 

“You never will have to offer anything to me. Quite on the contrary, I offer myself to you.”

Childe inhales sharply. 

“Will you accept the devotion of an old man like me?”, Zhongli doesn't smile but Childe recognizes a faint glow in the Archon’s eyes that gives his amusement away anyway.

“I desire nothing else but the gift of your love”, Zhongli adds, and he leans toward to press a gentle kiss against the corner of Childe’s mouth. He can feel Childe’s heart skip a beat, his breath shuddering in his throat. 

Childe groans, his fingers pressing hard into Zhongli’s skin; like he would float away if he didn’t hold on tight enough; or like Zhongli would slip away from him.

“You will be the end of me”, Childe whispers. “You’re killing me.” 

Zhongli’s eyes light up on that, like the eyes of Morax, clear and sharp Amber. Yet another reminder for Childe to not forget who Zhongli is — or was. 

“Do not think about the Tsaritsa now. Instead, think about me and what I can do — Gnosis or not.” And after six millennia of being a god, there is a command in Zhongli’s voice which is undeniable and, more importantly, not negotiable with. His words have been the law for a very long time and who is Childe to disobey the God of Justice, the God of War? 

Childe swallows and all he can do is nod. 

Deep within himself, underneath layers and layers of lies and betrayal, Childe knows, he knows, that if Zhongli called, he would answer. His devotion to the Tsaritsa started to thin in the very moment Zhongli gave his Gnosis up — without a fight he handed it to Signora, freely, and he seemed almost relieved to be rid of it. Childe knows this in the very abyss of his soul; and so does Zhongli. 

“Will you still require blood and slaughter?”, Childe asks, half joking, half serious. “I can give you both.” 

Zhongli snorts which catches Childe so off guard that his jaw drops — he never heard Zhongli making such a sound.

“The times of war and battle have long passed. I am no longer an Archon. I am no longer the god that I needed to be. I may not be as mortal as you are, my love, but mortal enough.” Zhongli turns to look outside, the rain still heavy, still falling. 

“In all this time of being alive I never felt so alive.” 

His gaze flatters back to Childe but he remains silent then. Childe’s heart pounds so fast and so loud that he’s sure Zhongli can hear it. His blood rushes through his veins like a wildfire and ignites something beyond passion and desire.

Childe closes his eyes and lets his head bump against Zhongli’s shoulder. 

“You’re right”, he says then, finally giving in,  his lips trailing over Zhongli’s skin. “It’s a peaceful night.”

Zhongli finds himself leaning into the touch, into the warmth, and he hums. He presses a kiss on Childe’s forehead. 

“It surely is. And we have many more ahead of us.”

[apenapaperandadoofus]

25 Saeyoung (fluff) :>

Games (Saeyoung fluff)

"Y/N....you don't have to do this..." Saeyoung weakly whispered, and you came closer to him, your faces so close you could kiss.

"Oh but I do, Saeyoung. Now....goodbye.. it was nice knowing ya..." Saeyoung gasped as you suddenly pushed him towards the edge, making him fall into the endless abyss.

"Wait Y/N, AGH NOOOOOOOO"

"Game!!" The announcer's voice could be heard through the living room speakers.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" Saeyoung cried as he fell on his knees off the living room couch, and you let out a victorious laugh.

"That's 14 for me, 12 for you. So who exactly was the game master again?~" you teasingly asked. Saeyoung fell to his back and let out a pained grunt, putting the back of his hand over his face in a dramatic pose.

"Betrayed by the one person I love the most! Why must you do this to me world?!" He cried.

"Idiot, you definetly deserve whatever Y/N did to you." Saeran said as he made his way to the kitchen, probably going to get some more ice cream.

Saryoung sat up and placed a hand on his chest, gasping again. "AND EVEN MY OWN BROTHER!!! OH SOMEONE PLEASE END THIS MISERY"

Saeran once again poked his head out from the kitchen and smirked. "I could help with that."

Saeyoung's eyes widened and he crawled over to you, hugging your legs. "AHHH Y/N HE'S TRYING TO KILL ME, HELP!!!"

You chuckled and placed your hand in Saeyoung's head. "Alright boys, play nice. Besides, you were the one who said we should do a game battle, not my fault you suck at smash."

You could hear Saeran laugh from the kitchen and Saeyoung pouted, placing his head on your thighs. "But Y/N~ It's not fair! How was I supposed to know you were better than me in smash? I've been playing for so long, and I was sure I would at least beat you in that!"

"Well you were wrong, now the deal was that the loser buys the winner food right? Then how about-"

"One more round! And I'll do you one better! Instead of buying the other one food, how about the loser does whatever the winner wants?"

"Saeyoung we've been playing for three hours-"

"Just this one and no more! I promise!" Saeyoung looked up at you and made some puppy dog eyes, and honestly how could you say no to that face?

You sighed and pinched his cheeks, making him gasp. "Fine. One more. That's all."

"YAY!!!" He quickly hugged you and then got up to grab his controller, sitting down on the couch beside you. Saeran then came from the kitchen with a spoon in his mouth and a bowl of ice cream in his hands. He gave you an "are you serious" look and you just shrugged. He sighed and then left to his room, closing the door.

"Alright then Saeyoung. Let's do this."

"Yes!!! IT'S THE FINAL COUNTDOWN!" He started singing as you chose your characters and you laughed as you joined in.

Saeyoung made a hand trumpet and started making those wierd mouth trumpet noises and that made you laugh even more. But the atmosphere in the room immediately changed as the two of you loaded into the location.

"Well then Saeyoung. Are you ready for me to whoop your ass?"

"Haha, my dear Y/N, are you ready for me to be the one to beat you in this round?"

You laughed and shook your head. "Well then. Let the battle commence!!!"

The two of you sat in silence, as you gripped tight your controller and leaned forward.

It was going well for you, thankfully. Saeyoung was now putting a stronger defense, but you were still able to hit him.

You smirked as you hit him once again. One more, and it would be over for him. You confidently started to get ready to smash the shit out of him, when suddenly you gasped as you felt a hand touch your tigh. You looked over to Saeyoung but he seemed to be focused on the game, somehow only using one of his hands. The worst was, that since you got distracted, he suddenly managed to throw you off the map! Oh that little-

Saeyoung smirked from beside you and you huffed. Nest time you would definetly be ready for his dirty trick. The thing was, soon enough Saeyoung suddenly moved his arm to be around your shoulders and you stopped, looking at him in surprise. Before you could nag him tough, you heard your character fall off the map again.

Oh that little...!!!!

"What's wrong Y/N? Something on your mind?" He asked as he smirked at you.

You blushed furiously and moved his hand off from your shoulders, huffing. "Shut up."

Then, finally! You had him cornered! He wouldn't be able to do anything now, since you were prepared for whatever else he might try to do, so you mentally asked him to bring it on!

And he did.

Suddnely Saeyoung grabbed your legs and turned you so you were laying on your back with him on top of you. Before you could say anything, Saeyoung got on top of you and kissed you roughly, all of your protests dying in your mouth.

Saeyoung let out a satisfied hum as he let his hands wander down your body, and you melted into his touch, kissing him back eagerly.

That was, until you suddenly heard the very familiar announcer voice yell "Game! Player 1 wins!!!"

Saeyoung smirked as he kissed you and you realized what he had done, pushing him away and sitting up to look at Saeyoung's character appearing to have won this round.

"YOU!!!" You screamed, as you looked to Saryoung who was feigning innocence.

"What?~"

"Y-you cheated!! That's not fair, you know I should've won!" You gently turned around to hit his arm, and Saeyoung laughed.

"I've no idea what you're talking about."

"SAEYOUNG!!!" You were about to hit him again when his sweet smiled faded and he grabbed your hands. Then before you could make out what he was doing, he pushed your back against the back of the couch, and got on top of you, cornering you. Then he leaned in to whisper in your ear. "Besides...I see this as a win-win, after all, you did enjoy the kiss didn't you?"

You gulped and tried to look somewhere else, as Saeyoung chuckled. "Now I get to do whatever I want~" he whispered against your skin and you gasped at his touch.

You were both about to kiss when suddenly you heard from behind you, "Ew go get a room, don't do this in the living room you weirdos." The two of you jumped in surprise and blushed as you saw Saeran scowl from behind the couch, his hands with the now empty bowl of ice cream.

You gently pushed Saeyoung off of you and blushed even harder. "Oh! Uhm, yeah, uh I'm s-sorry Saeran uh...!"

"HEY SAERAN I WON!!" Saeyoung grinned as his brother looked at the two of you.

"Really? Why do I feel like you somehow cheated?" Saeran said, raising an eyebrow.

"SAERAN!!! I won fair and square."

"Yeah right!!!!" You glared at him and Saeyoung stiffened, making his brother let out an amused laugh from the kitchen.

"Jeez seriously, Saeyoung...I can't say I'm surprised though...just please, don't do this in the living room. Or at least do it when I'm gone, I'm not coming out for about two hours just in case. Ugh." He shivered in disgust as he went to his room and closed the door.

You and Saeyoung looked at each other before laughing, leaning back on the couch. Then Saeyoung caressed your cheek and leaned his forehead against yours. "Fine, you win. I'll do whatever you want. Besides I wasn't really going to just cheat like that...I just wanted to win once. For my pride y'know?"

You laughed. "Sure, sure. Well then, thank you for letting me win. I was beating your ass anyways, so technically you aren't really doing anything, I still would've had won."

"I was just out of my element today!"

"Uh-huh sure."

"I was!! Normally I always win at this game!"

You booped his nose and laughed, then you have him a small peck on the lips. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get all stingy just because you lost. Now, I'm actually starving, why don't we get some food?"

Saeyoung smiled, but then, as you got up to go to the kitchen he suddenly grabbed you and lifted you off your feet, carrying you princess style.

"No you don't. We have to finish what we started!"

You chuckled. "And why should I do that?"

"Because your boyfriend is feeling super bad about losing, so you should take responsibility and make him feel better!"

You rolled your eyes at his lame excuse. "Yeah right.... although I do guess that if we're going to do that anyways then I should take the chance to use my prize!"

Saeyoung stoped and looked at you. "Wh...what?"

"C'mon Saeyoung, you do have to congratulate me for winning don't you?~"

Saeyoung smiled at you, and proceeded to twirl you around. "As you wish!"

You both laughed as you made your way to the bedroom, and then spent the day in each other's embrace.

[cat5313]

I have prompts!!!! Nessian: "I can't take you anywhere, you just fight everyone."

So, this isn’t proofread, so that’s fun.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

************************************

Nesta used to love bars.

Years ago, after the war, bars were her sanctuary. Liquor had been her closest confidant during that period of her life. It provided her with an easy escape from the nightmares and fear that constantly loomed over her shoulder. That fear was a constant companion, even during her waking hours, and without the alcohol and lovers whose faces she could never remember Nesta had always feared the fear would overcome her.

It almost did at first, when Feyre had sent her away. Those first few weeks had been a living hell, especially with Cassian constantly up her ass to stop feeling sorry for herself and start training. Eventually, that anger that constantly boiled just under the surface had bubbled over one day. Cassian and Nesta never talked about that day, and they never would, but after that they had a silent agreement. Nesta would train and Cassian would give her space.

As the weeks passed, Nesta threw herself into her training. After many sleepless nights plagued by nightmares, Nesta had relished in pushing herself to her limit. The burn in her muscles became a replacement for the burn of liquor running down her throat. The exhaustion she felt at the end of the day that occasionally granted her a dreamless rest became a substitute for the exhaustion she often felt after inviting a faceless lover back to her apartment.

Nesta and Cassian’s agreement grew into a mutual respect for each other as the weeks passed. It wasn’t until Cassian had found her one night, sobbing in the small cabin she’d been given that their tolerance of each other shifted. He had stopped by to drop off a new pair of boots- he’d noticed hers were wearing down, and he’d wanted to replace them before they fully gave out. He’d knocked and called her name, and upon not receiving any reply, he felt a small sense of dread settle in the pit of his stomach. He’d entered the cabin and searched the few rooms she had, that feeling of dread growing each second he couldn’t see her.

She’d been in the washroom. When Cassian had found her, she was naked and soaked, her knees tucked to her chest. She was crying, her body shivering against the side of the old tub beside her. Her hair was wet up to her chin and her arms were marred with red, angry scratch. Nesta told him later that it was her memory of the cauldron. It happened every time she bathed- she’d try to force herself to sink deeper and deeper each time, and more often than not the memory of that all consuming, dark abyss flooded her mind, and that fear would envelope her. She’d panic, and whenever she regained control of her senses, she was always out of the bath, always covered in panicked scratches from her nails.

Cassian hadn’t said a word, and Nesta was always grateful for that. Instead, he’d scooped her up into his arms, his heart breaking at how badly she was shivering, how tightly she clung to him. He’d carried her to her bedroom and held her until she calmed down, neither daring to speak. He helped her get into her nightgown and stayed with her until she fell asleep, his hand clutched in hers.

They never talked about that night either.

As weeks blurred into months, Cassian and Nesta’s relationship began to grow and develop. They’d become friends of sorts, and it wasn’t until Feyre and Rhysand sent them a message announcing the birth of their newborn son that anything truly changed. Nesta had been more than reluctant to return to Velaris, however, she wanted to meet her nephew. She wanted to see her sisters.

Cassian remained at her side the entire time. They’d flown directly to Feyre and Rhy’s new home they’d built together, where Rhys waiting for them on the front staircase. While Cassian congratulated his brother, Nesta wandered into the front entryway as memories of her sister sending her off all those months ago flooded her mind. Cassian had been there in an instant, and together they’d followed Rhys to meet the new heir of the Nightcourt.

Nesta fell in love with the little baby- he had Feyre’s features with Rhy’s hair and eyes. Feyre had insisted they stay for a few days before returning back to the mountains, and they had agreed. The same night they had arrived, Nesta’s mind had flooded with memories as she gazed out her window at the infamous night sky of Velaris. If she tried hard enough, she could see the roof of the bar she used to go to- she could even see the top floors of her old apartment building.

She wasn’t sure what it was, but something inside her broke. The air was too stale, the city lights too bright, and her room too big. The next thing she remembered was standing before a doorway, Cassian leaning against the doorframe. He’d obviously been getting ready to go to bed, but Nesta couldn’t find the will to walk away. The denial she’d been pushing down since the war was choking her, and after the past few months of his silent, unwavering support, Nesta wanted nothing more than to be able to finally breathe. So, Cassian had taken them up to the roof, and they’d talked for hours about everything and nothing. About the mating bond they’d felt between them.

For Nesta, it had been like a dream. Of course, Cassian had needed to reassure her multiple times over the next few days that it had been real, that they had talked. From there, they’d returned to the mountains and Nesta had finished her training. Her and Cassian’s relationship had grown and evolved from there, and when they’d returned home, it had been as mates. Feyre and Elian had begged Nesta for the details, but Nesta had refused. Those few days had been precious to her, and she didn’t want to expose her heart like that, even to her sisters.

Now, a few years after their return, Nesta was the happiest she’d ever been. She still dealt with the occasional nightmare, but having Cassian beside her at night often soothed her well enough that she could sleep. The inner circle had welcomed her with open arms, and although she was still rather closed off and reserved, Nesta had to admit she enjoyed their company, especially when Rhys and Feyre brought their son along.

Unfortunately, it would’ve been a bad decision to bring their six year old along with them to a bar. It was Morrigan’s birthday and she had insisted they all go out and party together. To Nesta’s displeasure, they were at their third bar of the night. All of their friends were varying levels of drunk- all except Nesta. After she and Cassian had returned, she still had a glass of wine here and there but for the most part, she didn’t allow herself to drink a lot in fear of falling back into old habits.

And, at the moment, she was glad she wasn’t drunk.

If she was, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the women looking at Cassian like he was a slab of meat.

He had gone to dance with Mor at the birthday girl's request, and after an insistence from Nesta that she’d be fine, he’d followed Mor to the dance floor. He hadn’t been gone long when Nesta had noticed the group of women beside her eyeing the Illyrian male. At first she didn’t let it bother her, but as soon as they started speaking, Nesta felt her blood coming to a boil.

“What do you think my chances are of getting him to come home with me?” A blonde asked her friends, her eyes freely roaming Cassian’s form as he danced.

“Or me,” a redhead piped up, “Cauldron, I think I’d let him do just about anything to me.”

“He probably already has a female,” another blonde spoke up, “what about the woman he’s dancing with?”

“He hasn’t touched her once, they can’t be an item,” the redhead practically purred and slid off her barseat, “Besides, even if he does have a woman, she can’t be anything special if he’s here, right?” Fixing her hair, her eyes fully settled on Cass as she moved to approach him.

“He’d never touch you, you know.”

The redhead’s steps faltered when she heard Nesta’s voice.

When the other woman turned to look at her, Nesta raised her wineglass to her lips, her cold, steely gaze locked with the redhead’s as she took a sip.

The woman’s painted lips curved into a charming smile, her hand moving to rest on her hip.

“Oh, is that so? Well, I have say I have a much better chance than you ever would. Don’t flatter yourself, dear,” she said with a challenging gleam in her eyes.

Behind her, Nesta saw Cassian’s dancing falter for a moment.

Raising her wine to her lips again, Nesta shrugged. “Well, no offense, but I doubt a man as attractive as him would ever consider touching a woman who opens her legs so easily. Such a pretty body, ruined by no shame and no class.”

Another sip.

Cassian stopped dancing all together in the crowd as Morrigan’s laughter rang out beside him.

The redhead’s cheeks bloomed with color and her brows furrowed with fury. “Like you’d know anything about shame, you snobby whore. Get off your high horse and accept no man half as attractive as him would so much as look your way.”

Her arm moved to throw the rest of her drink in Nesta’s face, but before the amber liquid could slosh out of the glass, a tanned fist wrapped around the woman’s pale wrist.

Nesta sipped her wine.

“Nesta.”

His voice sent chills up her spine, but Nesta kept a straight face as she looked at him, her finger tracing the rim of her wine glass.

“Is this woman bothering you?”

Nesta pretended to think for a moment before releasing a sigh. Setting her empty glass on the counter, Nesta slid down from her own bar stool, her cold stare meeting the two blondes from before. They both looked away immediately, and feeling satisfied, she approached Cassian and the other woman, her face stoic.

“No, not at all. She was just going to dance, right?” Nesta asked.

The redhead stared at her and Nesta simply smiled at her. Taking the woman’s glass, Nesta shot back the remaining whiskey, her eyes never leaving the redheads. She could tell Cassian was holding back a grin as Nesta held out the glass for the redhead to take again as Cassian released the woman’s wrist. With a scowl, the woman practically shook with fury as she reached for the empty glass, only for Nesta to drop it.

The glass shattered, and Nesta swore she could see the woman’s eye twitch with rage.

“Cass, I’d like to go home. It’s getting late,” Nesta said, her eyes still locked with the redhead’s.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said with a chuckle and moved to wrap and arm around Nesta’s shoulders as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Nesta couldn’t help but smile as the woman openly gaped at them, her eyes wide with surprise.

Cassian called a goodbye to their friends as they left the bar, and as they walked down the sidewalk in the cool night air, Cassian laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Nesta asked, her brow raised as she looked up at her mate. Cassian simply grinned and squeezed her hand.

“I can’t take you anywhere, you just fight everyone,” he said, amusement bright in his eyes.

Nesta simply shrugged. There was no point in denying what was true.

“They were looking at you like a pack of wolves. I was simply informing that woman she had no chance,” Nesta said, her chin held high. Cassian chuckled again and pulled her to the side, his arms wrapping around her waist.

“Oh? How kind of you... Are you sure you weren’t jealous, Nes?” He asked with a smirk and kissed her cheek, his lips trailing down her jaw to her neck. Nesta rolled her eyes, her hands running down his chest and settling on his waist.

“So what if I was?” She asked, her eyes fluttering shut as Cassian nipped at her ear.

“You know I’d never look at anyone else, right?”

Nesta hummed and looped her fingers into the waistband of his pants, a soft sigh escaping her.

“I think you’re going to have to bring me home and prove it.”

Nesta could feel Cassian’s grin against her neck at her teasing, and with a husky chuckle, he nodded.

“With pleasure.”