#amber... one chance please... one singular chance... please..........

Lyla huffed as another little red circle appeared in her inbox, the sixth one this day. She only needed to read the subject of the notification to see what people were nagging her about this time, and the time before that, and the time before that. “Problem with the Go-Home-Machine”.

It didn’t feel good to have been getting a constant string of complaints about something she helped to create but it couldn’t be helped. Well more accurately, it could be helped, that’s why every Spiderman, woman and everything else in between were bothering her to do something about it. Normally, she would’ve fixed it up but Miguel was going out in the field, so she had to be there to support him. So, Lyla went to the second most logical option.

“Hey Margs,” she announced, popping up on Margo’s desk. She was currently in the operating room for the GHM (that’s Go-Home-Machine) though she had just clocked in for the day and was oblivious to its errors. Margo shrieked as Lyla appeared, swatting her hand through her small body, causing the hologram to flicker before fixing itself.

“Jeez, Lyla! Don’t scare me like that!” Margo whined, slumping down in her chair and staring at the ceiling. That didn’t deter Lyla, who simply floated above her head staring down at Margo.

“Sorry, but you have a job to do today. Go-Home-Machine’s been bugging out, I need you to look at me for me while I’m out on the field.” Lyla declared, to which Margo rolled her eyes.

“Would a please kill you, girl?” Margo smirked, though she was already getting up to get on with her task. Lyla followed along for a bit, both of their bodies glitching through the screen separating them from the GHM, it’s metal legs hanging limply in the air.

“You’re thanked enough by being allowed to stay here. Now, good luck with your task, I’ll check back in on you in a few.” Lyla declared before she blipped it out of existence, leaving Margo alone with the faulty apparatus. She sighed, Lyla hadn’t even bothered explaining what was wrong with it so it was up to her to see what these glitches that were too important for Lyla were. There was probably some better, longer way of finding out what was wrong by taking a gander at its coding, but Margo thought of a much simpler solution.

Margo duplicated her avatar, one standing of the podium beneath the machine’s pincers while the other one worked in the operating room, flipping levers and pressing buttons, causing the GHM to whir to life, clunky sounds of wires and servos filling the room. She hummed in satisfaction, reforming herself to just a singular avatar. It’s mandibles worked with precise accuracy, amber and lemon energy prickling around her, creating a forcefield that left her and the GHM isolated from the surroundings. Margo looked around quizzically, everything seemed to be working fine so far.

That was until those thin, long steel limbs slipped between her wrists, holding her arms above her head. Margo’s brow furrowed as they weaved their strange, glowing, slightly squishy and sticky orange webbing around her hands, connecting them together.

“That’s not supposed to happeeEE-!” Margo didn’t have the chance to finish her sentence as a claw dragged down from her armpit to the bottom of her hip. She would’ve almost thought something like that was a fluke but with the way the other claws were positioned around her, all posed and inches from her skin like a bear trap, she could’ve sworn they were wiggling at her. All Margo could do was sigh.

“God dammit Lyl-ahaahahaHAHAHAahahaha!!” Margo’s assailants struck, about two or three of the claws dug into each other her sides, surprisingly not in a painful manner. Whatever this big was trying to do it wasn’t malicious, just annoying and embarrassing, at least for Margo. They wriggled about against her skin like how someone would play with a stress ball, before starting to spider up and down her sides, leaving her torso positively buzzing with ticklish attention. She tried to jump about from side to side, but she’d just end up jumping back and forth between the sets of claws, forcing even more laughter from her mouth.

“FuhuhuhHUHuck, sohohohomeone heheHEHEHLP!!” Margo called out, trying to curl in on herself but with her arms way above her head, she was as exposed as could be. Some more of the claws found themselves positioned in a row along the odd outstretched arms of hers, just waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Margo glared at them with wild, nervous eyes, simultaneously desperate for them to just get it over with and to rip herself far, far away from the GHM. Suddenly, they struck by drumming and tapping against her underarms, though a few of them circled and scraped against her armpits.

“AAAHHAHAHAAHAHAHA!!” Margo screeched once the anticipation finally broke, simply left with an empty feeling of ticklish dread. She shook all about, shaking her head, clenching her fists, pounding her feet against the floor that she was slightly raised off of, tugging at her wrists, but nothing she did could stop the hysterical laughter pouring out from her mouth. The GHM didn’t seem to take note of just how ticklish the poor girl was, it was just a machine after all. Instead, it continued upping the ante, letting the claws at her sides and arms continuously work in an agonisingly repetitive fashion. A few more claws seemed to materialise, accurately positioning themselves in a ring around her thighs. She didn’t have the luxury of waiting like she did with her arms, instead the little arms began scratching and tracing against her legs. Margo squealed, feeling a winded blush creep onto her face. She bounced about from her bound hands, kicking about wildly against the forcefield enveloping her, but she’d just end up feeling a sharp buzzing in her sole whenever she did that.

“OHOHO, COHOHOHME OHOHOHOHN!!” Margo huffed, how did they even program that? She could barely even find the time to close her mouth or breathe, the flood gates of her laughter having been totally broken open, leaving a wide smile on her face and a burning feeling in her chest. It felt like the more she struggled, the more those pointed mandibles would dig into her. Unfortunately for her, she couldn’t sit still at all, flailing all about with a desperate need to get away from all these mischievous claws. Since that wasn’t working though, she figured to do the only thing I could think of.

“LYLA!! LYLAHA-AHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAH!!” Margo screamed over and over, whining slightly as she did her best to sit still with each passing second that her saviour didn’t appear. It felt like years for Margo, but Lyla answered after a few moments of waiting, blipping it existence before her face once again.

“You know I’m busy, ri-what happened here?!” Lyla blurted out, taking off her heart shaped sunglasses to get a good look at Margo. Poor girl had a gaping smile on her very red face, she probably didn’t want to be seen in such a state, her body was shaking, overwhelmed by the ticklish jabs and scritches all over her body.

“I DOHOHN’T KNOHOHW, JUHUHUST FIHIHIX IT!!” Margo barked at her, kicking at Lyla as if that was going to help anything. Lyla just narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

”Kinda rude, Byte, now I don’t wanna help you.” She joked, which made Margo’s face go red with a mix of rage and embarrassment.

“LYHYHYHYHLA!!” Margo wailed apologetically, or in frustration, it was hard to tell with how tickled out she seemed. Lyla made some noise of agreement, followed by a “fine.” A digital display of the MHG’s code appeared in front of Lyla, to which she began scrolling through and mumbling to herself, but Margo was much too impatient to just let her work.

“DONOHOHO SOHOHOHOMETHING!!” Margo screamed, already feeling a few tears prick up in her eyes. Lyla looked up at her and smirked, casually tapping away at her interface as she spoke.

“Oh, alright, if you insist.” She teased, to which another of the GHM’s claws came to life, positioning itself in front of Margo’s naval. It dug its way against the sensitive button before circling and swirling around against the fabric of her clothes. Margo finally exploded, laughing hysterically as a few tears slipped down her face, thrashing about with a fierce determination to escape, despite how tired her muscles were from attempting to get away so, so many times.

“PLEAHAHAHAHAAHAHSE!!” Margo broke, to which Lyla turned a little more sympathetic. Only a little.

“Oh, look at that, it did practically kill you just to say please, interesting.” Lyla giggles before turning her attention back to the keyboard, hastily tapping away at it. Slowly, all of the little, prying claws slowed to a halt, slithering away to resume their previous position. The webs around Margo’s wrists soon dissipated and dissolved around her, leading her to fall down on her feet, and then her knees, tiredly keeled over on the floor. She took in long deep breaths, a lingering, tingly sensation covering practically her whole body. Lyla appeared beneath her face, trying to wipe away her tears.

“There, there, that’s all over now. You alright?” Lyla asked tenderly, Margo let out one final wheeze before rising to her feet.

“You suck, you know,” she teased with a smile, “I’m fine, thanks, but how did that even happen?!” Margo threw her arms above her head in exclamation to which Lyla winced.

“Oooo, that’s a funny story, haha.” Lyla chuckled awkwardly. “See, when I was making the code for this little thing, I ended up copying some of the code for the machine Miguel used to put on his suit which I…may or may not have tampered with a few times to mess with him and forget to take it out.” Lyla smiled with her teeth though that didn’t seem to please Margo, who just stared at her with narrowed eyes.

“You do suck.” Margo tried to keep a stern composure but she couldn’t help but giggle a little at Lyla’s antics. “Well, it would seem like a waste to remove something interesting like this without testing it a little…more.” She blushed at that last part, but Lyla seemed very intrigued by Margo’s idea.

“Oooo, you think good, Margs, you think good. Who are you thinking, Miguel, Gwen, Peter B?” Lyla listed on her fingers, having seemingly forgotten all about the rest of the week she was meant to be doing in favour of some mischief.

You raised the margarita glass up clinking it with a fork to get the tables attention. Everyone including Aaron had a smile on their face, ready to hear the intrusive question for the night. 

“Ok my fellow profilers, doctor, and tech genius,” you added pointing at Spencer then Pen, “Do you kiss your partner after they give you head? Discuss!” you finished in your most formal voice. 

Right as you took a swig of your drink the mixed responses of yes and no filled your small space. 

“Why wouldn’t you? You guys especially, if someones willingly trying to swallow then you damn well owe them a kiss,” Emily finished earning nods and ‘exactly’s from JJ, Pen, and yourself. 

“Ok but thats weird. I just can’t explain it but its a no go for me,” Morgan finished. This only gained him a scoff and raised voices, “Hotch man help me out here,” he said looking over to the man hiding his smirk behind the amber liquid. 

“I have to agree with the ladies here Derek,” he said curtly. 

The girls yelped and hooted at Hotch for siding with them while Morgan sat with his arms crossed being the singular person left out as even Rossi agreed. Meanwhile you noticed the presence next to you had shrunk back and wasn’t too active in the conversation. 

“So Spence do you kiss your partner after they,” you trailed off shaking your fist by your cheek and poking your tongue in the side. 

He coughed as he instantly sat up quicker. Even under the dim lights of the bar you could still see the blush creeping up from his neck to his ears and the slightest tint on his cheeks. 

“Oh I uh- I never-” he said looking anywhere but your eyes. 

“You don’t kiss them?” you said raising your brows. 

“No! I-i mean yes. I would I think b-but I haven’t had the chance to actually partake in such.. activities,” he finished finally taking a look into your eyes. 

You could tell he was waiting for you to laugh in his face for being so inexperienced but you felt far from it. If anything you wished you could be the one to show him things. 

That sweet boy had you wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even know it. Maybe it was his naivety considering how exceptionally smart he was. Or maybe it was the cute sweater vests he wore and now he nervously tucked his hair behind his ears. All you knew was that you wanted Spencer Reid and tonight was your night to make it happen. 

You hummed taking in the information, “Well that’s not a bad thing Spence. Everything takes time,” you said putting your hand on his arm for comfort and giving him a smile. 

Going to turn back to face the table you almost didn’t hear Spencer go to speak again, “Do you?” 

Got him.

“Why don’t you find out pretty boy,” you said with a wink as you downed the rest of your marg. In the corner of your eye you could see Spencer shifting in his seat, subtly moving his bag to cover the slowly growing tent in his slacks. 

As the night went by you couldn’t help but really give him a show. You had popped open a button or two on the long sleeve you had on, since it was getting stuffy in the booth. Though when you leaned forward and jutted your chest out, the soft inhale of a breath from the man next to you was just serving as motivation to get bolder. 

For the last hour you called it quits on the alcohol and drank a few glasses of water before you drove home. Spencer had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since your little interactions. 

The team had all gotten up to say their goodbyes. Rossi going by and giving everyone a kiss on each cheek. Derek having to quite literally rangle Penelope from talking to passing by groups on their way out. Then there were two. 

You turned to the side where Spencer was nursing on his coke, “Hey pretty boy, it’s late, let me give you a ride home,” you said grabbing your belongings. 

“Y-yeah ok. Thanks Y/n,” he said getting up. You’d noticed how he still had the burnt orange bag over his crotch. He couldn’t still be hard could he? Well you’d love to find out. 

As gentlemanly as he was, Spencer opened the door for you to exit the building first. The whip of fresh night air cooling on your exposed chest and legs under your skirt. 

You unlocked your car and stepped in, Spencer waiting to hear the little beep signaling his side was open. As he sat down you heard him let out a little whimper. Your head shot over to look at him, you could tell from the flush on his cheeks he didn’t mean to let the noise out. 

Holding in your chuckle you started the ignition and pulled out of the lot, “Can I put on some music?” 

“Yeah I don’t mind,” he said looking over at you with his lips in a line. If it was anyone else, they’d probably think he was uncomfortable but you loved his tiny awkward smiles. 

The ride to his apartment was mostly silent besides a rare quip from Spencer about paper work or fact about an older building you had passed by. It fascinated you to no end hearing him talk. Spencer was a hand speaker, meaning he always used his hands waving them around and making gestures. The pale digits had you captivated. Probably a driving hazard but you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. 

You pulled up into one of the visitor spots and put the car in park. You looked over to see Spencer almost contemplating something. You’d seen the look on his face before when he was looking over puzzles. 

“Somethin on your mind Doc?” you said with a small smile. As cute as he looked when he was nervous, you’d never want him to feel uncomfortable around you. 

“Would you-,” he cleared his throat, “Wo- Would you maybe want to c-come inside?” 

“Of course Spence I’d love to,” you finished with a reassuring nod. 

As he led you upstairs you were giddy with anticipation. So what if nothing happened. He was your friend first and you were glad he was letting you into his personal space. Even if you wanted nothing more than to have him writhi-

“Y/n?” 

The door closing snapped you out of your thoughts. You didn’t even realize you were in his living room. The dark green walls and shelves bursting with books put a grin on your face, “Sorry Doc, just caught up in my thoughts. What did you say hun?” 

His brows practically raised to his hairline from hearing the pet name. While he was used to the names coming from Garcia they took a whole different light coming from your lips. 

“I was asking if you wanted water or something,” he said fiddling with the keys in his hands. Eyes darting everywhere but your face so you wouldn’t be able to see the flush rising on his cheeks. 

“No I’m fine thanks for asking though,” you said taking a seat on the worn leather couch. 

You reached for the tv remote making a face at Spencer to ask for permission. He nodded and you settled back turning on an old sitcom that played late at night. 

As the episode ended you both sat in silence. Again you didn’t mind but you could practically hear the cogs moving in Spencer’s brain. 

You were about to speak when he cut you off before you could even get a word out, “What did you mean by ‘why don’t you find out’.”

Gaining confidence you moved closer to where he was on the couch, slow enough for him to stop you in case he wanted to back out. 

“Well you have options pretty boy,” you said moving a leg to straddle him. Your hands instinctively going to his brown locks. You could’ve sworn you heard a little moan leave his chapped lips. Noted. 

“W-what are the options,” lust blown eyes looked up to yours. 

“One, you can put that mouth to good use on me,” you said trailing your finger over his bottom lip, “and let me cum over that pretty face.” 

His eyes shut hearing your words and you weren’t having it, “Nuh uh eyes on me honey,” instantly they were back on yours. 

“Or number two. I can suck you off and let you cum down my throat, but,” you paused making sure to roll your hips on his growing length, “ you have to give me a nice big smooch after.” 

The hands on your hips pulled you closer as he bucked his hips into you as you finished the sentence. It was clear which option was preferred. 

You moved to slide down in between his legs. You let your hands trail down his clothed thighs, causing him to jump. 

“Tsk such a needy boy,” you said mockingly, “Am I not going fast enough baby?”

“Please Y/n,” he all but whimpered. It was like music to your ears. 

Your hands went to his belt, looking up in his eyes for a final sign of permission. Once he nodded you quickly undid it and he lifted his hips to help get his pants down. You palmed him over his boxers, feeling the wet patch where he was already leaking pre cum. 

“Is this all for me Spence? Does the thought of my lips around you make you this hard,” you said taking him out of the striped confines. 

“Oh god please just,” he cut himself off. You could see his hands curling fists besides his legs. 

“Please what baby? I can’t give you anything unless you ask.” Your hands continued their task of leisurely stroking his length. 

“Fuck please put your mouth on me,” he rushed out, hips bucking to prove his point. 

The answer was good enough for you so you wasted no time in leaning forward and taking him in your mouth. Both of you let out content sighs as you tried to take him further. 

You looked up to see him with his head leaned back, eyes scrunched closes in pleasure. 

You pulled off with a pop, letting your hand work him over. “Better keep those pretty eyes on me before I decide you can’t finish.”

He looked down with a flash of worry, that was quickly replaced by a loud moan as you spit down on his cock before taking him in your mouth again. 

For a germaphobe, Spencer loved how nasty it was. He was thanking god or whatever higher being there was for giving him his eidetic memory because the sight below him was something he’d never wanna forget. 

Your eyes were teary and you had spit dribbling down your chin but he wanted nothing more than to give you more than just a kiss after you finished. Or well after he finishes. 

You could tell he was close by the way he was throbbing on your tongue. Again taking him out of your mouth you used both hands to jerk him off. 

“You’re doing such a good job baby. So good for me. You wanna cum in my mouth pretty boy?”

“God Y/n I’m so close please please please,” he whimpered out. 

“Cum for me baby, be my good boy Spence,”  you said before taking him down your throat. He was big, not girthy but long and it was a struggle but you’d be damned if you didn’t try to take him all. 

Hollowing your cheeks you bobbed your head quickly, egging on his release further. His hands finally found a place in the back of your head. Pushing you down further as he came. 

“F-fuck Y/n I’m gonna”

His moans and whines were a symphony of sounds you’d have on repeat in your head forever. 

You swallowed the salty release but before you could even wipe your lips you were being pulled up by Spencer placing his lips on yours. You moaned into the kiss, his hands gripped the sides of your face not wanting to let you go. 

The need for air made you both pull back. You looked at one another, chests heaving and looking like you ran a marathon. 

Then a sad look came across his face. 

“Spencer what’s wrong?” 

“You didn’t get any pleasure,” he said looking like a hurt puppy. Oh your sweet boy. 

“It’s ok baby, I can take care of myself,” you tried to shrug off.

He was quick to push you back on the couch, taking the spot you were previously in. His warm lips trailing down your exposed thighs. 

If you close your eyes, you can still see her. The brunette Dimitrescu. A living painting of a woman in a background of howls and pitch-black darkness, who spoke with a lilting voice and prettily pronounced vowels –and complete disregard over human life.

Earning her amusement was the only reason you and the shopkeeper got to see another sunrise, although you have a sneaking suspicion it will be his last. Nobody disrespects a Dimitrescu and gets away with it. It may as well be law in the village –and the sentence for breaking it is very clear.

The man doesn’t remember what he did. It may be for the better, bitter as it feels to you. Either way, you try not to stare at him too much –nor the bruise on his face in the shape of your knuckles— when you enter his shop and ask for the brunette daughter’s order. It’s under the initials C.D. No name has been given and no address. He hasn’t realized who she is. Perhaps being permanently intoxicated has to do with it.

The box you receive weighs heavy in your hands, for more than one reason. Seeing it springs forth in your senses the expensive scent of her perfume, the tickle of her hair against your nose when she leaned in. Her lips were soft as a wildflower’s petals and cold as snow.

The “Thanks, sweetheart.” she said plays on repeat in your head.  

Of course, such is your luck that you couldn’t pine over any normal girl. It’s human nature, you suppose, to desire what’s forbidden, but that’s not the only adjective that describes her;

She’s lethal.

A certain part of you was aware the moment you looked into her blueish amber eyes. Like a snake being stared down by a hawk or a deer caught in the gaze of a wolf, your place in the food chain wasn’t quite the same. Part of you was –is— attracted to her beauty. Part of you was petrified.

The stories your mother told you about her family don’t help in that department. Maidens who have been taken as maids into their castle never came back. Nobody who passed that threshold ever returned. There are rumors about dungeons filled with wailing. Warnings, to avoid bloodied steps should one come across them in the forest. To fear the mark the three daughters bear on their foreheads.

Hours pass. The sun begins its descent down the plane of the sky.

You can’t help but wonder if you’ll see it rise again.

You tell your employer you aren’t feeling well and need to take the evening off. You’ve worked non-stop so many days he doesn’t get to voice anything other than a grumble of acknowledgement.

It’s… a daunting experience, being alone after sunset.

You aren’t used to it, which makes it all the more jarring when the distant howling begins. You’re sitting in your couch with the nicest button-up shirt you have on –might as well look good dying, you figure— waiting.

And waiting.

Night has completely settled in. The cold penetrates your skin. You busy yourself with lighting the fireplace, pretending not to hear the sounds from outside. The cracking of wood helps, if only for a little bit. It gets a tad warmer, though you’re still chilled to the bone.

Perhaps she won’t come. you’re beginning to think.

But then, a peculiar sound comes from the other side of your door. Like the buzzing of insects, followed by a rush of air. Followed… by a knock on the wooden surface.

Your lungs suddenly empty of oxygen. If it was possible for a heart to jump right out a person’s chest yours would be doing just that. You have to answer but you’ve lost your voice. Every instinct screams at you to stay as far away from the door as humanly possible.

“It’s me.” you hear her muffled huff.

You summon all the courage you possess to walk to the entrance –and turn the handle. The brunette Dimitrescu is standing there in all her black-clad glory, eyes gleaming in the dark like gemstones. The very edge of her lip curves up upon seeing you. You move aside to let her in and waste zero seconds in closing the door behind her.

Her hood is pushed off in one graceful motion, revealing her waterfall of rich brown hair. “It’s cold in here.” she states, then turns to you. “Aren’t you freezing?”

You are, but that’s the least of your worries. “Kind of.” you say as you hover there awkwardly.

Your breath leaves a hint of smoke behind. Hers does not. You’re moving towards the box before your nerves cause you to break down in front of her.

It’s one thing to have a pretty girl in your house for the first time.

It’s entirely another when said pretty girl can also very easily kill you.

“Eager to get rid of me, beautiful?” she asks. There is obvious teasing in her voice but also an undertone of… something else. Disappointment, maybe. Whatever it is it strikes straight at your heart.

“I—no.” you reply, quickly. “Can I offer you something to drink, uh…” you still don’t know her name.

“Cassandra.” she smirks. A name as beautiful as the rest of her.

“Can I offer you a drink, Cassandra?” The offer makes her smirk widen, almost to the point of a grin. It’s cute but you’re not sure you want to know why the question amuses her so greatly.

“Depends.” she retorts, taking off her gloves. “My choice of drink is very… singular.”

“Well, there’s wine. It’s… good.”

She eyes you for a moment. There is hunger in her gaze, something deep, as it lingers over your collarbones. Then she averts her head in favor of looking about the house. It can’t be anything like the castle she lives in, but it’s quaint, at least. Her heels click against the wooden floor. They come to a stop in front of the small table your sketchbook lies upon.

“You draw?” she questions, curious as a child.

Please, don’t look inside. you pray. The rough sketches of sheet-clad brunettes will surely give your tastes away and your heart can’t take that embarrassment on top of everything else right now.

“Landscapes and stuff. When I’m bored.” you lie to save your dignity.

“I’m a bit of an artist myself.” she grins proudly. “I paint.”

“…acrylics?” you ask.

Cassandra gives you that secretive smile again. The one that is both hot and scary at once. “You could say that, yeah.” If any of the rumors have basis in reality, you don’t want to think about what she could be painting with. Some things are best left unsaid.

“So. I got your order.” you say, taking the box in your hands.

Cassandra walks to you and takes the object between her pale fingers like it weighs nothing. You’re left staring. At her hand, then her eyes, looking into your own with that same curiosity from earlier. “I’m sure mother will like it.” Then, after a pause, “She’d like you, too.”

You’re not sure what to say to that.

“You’d look good in the castle. But then I’d have to share you and I don’t think I’d like that.” Her fingers absently toy with the hem of your shirt while she speaks. It’s terribly distracting, to the point you almost miss what she says. It’s not fair that everything about Cassandra is just so damn attractive…

You like her, you realize. You already knew that you’re weak to her looks and her grace and the way she talks, so it’s not a startling revelation. But what is surprising is the mirror of what you’re thinking in her eyes. She likes you back.

She could just turn and leave, yet she doesn’t.

Instead, she lifts her hand to your chin. Traps it between thumb and pointer… and leans in. You think she’s going to kiss you goodbye on the cheek again, like the last time. Instead, her lips find the corner of your mouth and leave you breathless.

For a heartbeat, you don’t move.

Cassandra lingers, almost unsure but unwilling to let go.

A certain part of your brain is triggered and the sense of danger and reason keeping you back evaporates. You turn your head to kiss her fully, sucking on her lower lip, running your tongue over its softness until she opens her mouth to let you in. She tastes like strawberry lipbalm and wine and oh God you’ll die right there with that little moan she gives.

You end up holding her sides and she the back of your neck until you have to pull back or you’ll melt into an aroused puddle on the floor.

She looks as dazed as you feel. Her nails dig into your skin but your warmed body only draws pleasure from the slight sting.

Cassandra’s hooded eyes drop to your throat like a woman left thirsty in the desert far too long. “…does the offer for a drink still apply?” The breathy quality her voice has taken does things to you. You can only nod and trust she won’t kill you. She did ask, so your chances are probably decent.

Brown hair tickles your nose. She’s wonderfully close, the length of her cool body pressed against yours. You can feel the swell of her breasts and the firmness of her thigh almost as if there are no clothes between you. Your body is alight, heart pounding. You want her.

“Keep still for me, beautiful.” she says with a little growl to your ear and—

Pain comes.

Sharp. Biting.

You don’t expect it. A harsh gasp leaves your throat. You can feel twin needles embedded in your skin, breaking open your vein. The corners of your eyes prickle. Something thick and wet trails down your collarbone while she swallows mouthfuls, keeping you tighter in place. It’s agonizing, at first, but the area begins to numb, then fill with a pleasant tingle.

You can’t tell when Cassandra stops drinking from you, but you feel her tongue on your neck, following the red trail down before it ruins your shirt.

Your brain can’t comprehend what just happened, yet something about it is just so raw and erotic you know you won’t be able to sleep for days without the thought of her haunting you.

“You’re delicious, darling.” she breathes, eyes brighter than before, licking her lips like a lioness.

You want to reply, but you nearly wobble on your feet. “Ugh.”

“Take it easy and dress your wound.” she smiles, fingertips tracing the slope of your jaw. “I’ll come by again, sometime.”

Your hands tighten on her sides, but she only gives a little laugh –and steps away too easily. Her hood is pulled back on. A last molten look is sent over her shoulder.

Then, your mind halts for the hundredth time that night as you watch her figure disperse into a swarm of insects and black swirls. The door closes behind Cassandra.

Your hand slowly reaches up to your neck, where the imprint of her teeth in you –her mark left on you– yet throbs.

soft sunlight falls on your face as you slowly wake up, a soothing voice lulling you to the realm of the awakened. zhongli, pristine as always, peers over your blanket covered form, smiling gently at your face as you give him a quiet whine.

“good morning, love.”

“morning zhongli...” you clear your throat to respond without mumbling, but give up halfway through, instead reaching your arms up to loop around his back and pull him into a hug. zhongli complies all too easily, breathing an exasperated sigh and tugging you to sit upright as he takes you into his arms. his skin is warm, still clothed in moderately casual clothes - by his standards - and the sun-kissed edges of his eyes drown you in his being.

(zhongli is such a warm being. encompassing yet not suffocating, sweet but not unnaturally so; the way he can twist words, spin tales so enamoring that you can’t help but stay. his presence grounds you, a constant in this ever-changing universe that surrounds you, and you let yourself fall, deeper and deeper, into the sanctuary that is zhongli.)

his hands rub soothing circles into your back, fingers working to trace shapes onto your skin and brush over a swipe of gold all too tenderly. his long hair, still untied from where he had instead moved to wake you up, drapes like embellished curtains around you two, hidden safely from the world.

as you’re about to fall back into slumber, zhongli sighs, gripping your shoulders to admonishingly shake your sleep-softened form.

“we should begin the preparations for a meal,” he chides, or in other words, i’m hungry, get up so we can eat. it’s probably the closest he’ll ever get to pouting, and you chuckle at the thought.

“alright, alright, ‘m getting up.”

pulling away the puffy blankets and taking your hand, zhongli gracefully helps you to stand up from the bed and stumble to the bathroom.

it’s halfway through your morning routine that you hear the rapping of several knocks on the door. you look up from the white towel your face is buried in.

“zhongli?”

he clears his throat, and before you have the chance to wonder why, he responds:

“i’ve heated the pan, however-“

his voice trails off into an embarrassed silence. you can see the sullen look on his face, the dip of his brows and the tiniest push of his lip, even from behind the door. your mouth lilts up into a smile.

“-however you would like some help with the rest?”

zhongli huffs, just loud enough to reach your ears.

“..yes, that— if you would.”

your hands resume their motions, if not a little quicker, the damp towel set down and a string bracelet slid over your hand, fastened to rest on your wrist. the singular charm dangles freely, cool against the heat of your skin. it was fashioned to look like a larger dragon curled around a smaller one. your heels shift against the ground as you turn to the accessory cabinet, opening the drawer in search of a comb.

“of course, a-li. i’ll be finished in a moment.”

a sheepish hum is all you receive before you hear his footsteps trail away back to the kitchen, take the chance to exit the bathroom in search of your outfit for today.

while zhongli is an expert in all recipes complex, his slow-cooked bamboo shoot soup being one of those, he by some odd chance of nature cannot cook simple meals. how you’d discovered this, it would be unwise to mention (for the sake of zhongli’s pride and your own skin), but ever since then, it’d been you cooking the simpler meals and zhongli taking charge of the more elaborate ones, per say.

it makes up just another part of how your relationship has bloomed over time.

finally properly dressed, you hurry to the kitchen to make breakfast. zhongli shuffles to the left to make room for you, helping you to fasten a simple apron for cooking. you find your peace in the spot nestled by his side, dropping cubed radish cakes on hot metal and stirring congee in the pot. your shoulders brush and hips bump as you prepare the meal together, hands fumbling to arrange the array of dumplings. the sizzling of the pan and billows of steam from the steamer basket draw you closer into the moment.

(it is the gentlest picture of home.)

the subtle clink of cutlery fills the air as zhongli sets the table, moving from setting down appropriate tableware to helping you plate the food. two cups of tea find their way to the table, “the tea is hot love, don’t burn yourself.”, and you enjoy the sole, blissful feeling of a morning with zhongli. the meal is delicious as always, the seasonings flavorful and food warm in your stomach, but the serenity of your slow morning together is all too easily interrupted by voices from outside your front door. they chatter for a moment, then pause and a few knocks on the door sound out.

zhongli’s expression lights up just a tad from where it had sunken into soft contentment, and he nods at you in silent confirmation of who they are, setting down his chopsticks. at that, you smile as well, unlocking the door to let havria and guizhong inside.

(havria? guizhong..?)

“good morning you two! ready to head out to the market?” guizhong, ever cheerful and energetic, shifts restlessly by the door. havria modestly stands beside her, nodding along in unsaid agreement.

“allow us to tidy up first?” zhongli looks over at you, and you pick up the empty bowls and plates, moving the dishes to the sink in response.

when the dishes have been washed and lain out on the rack to dry, you reconvene at the doorway, straightening out your coat and putting on your shoes to head outside.

out of the corner of your eye, you spot zhongli’s tie slipping out of his coat just the slightest. unthinkingly, you turn around, deftly slipping the cloth back into place. zhongli’s eyes widen, then smile at you, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the back of it. if your cheeks heat up in the telltale sign of a blush, no one mentions it.

the moment you open the door and step outside into the sunlight, your senses are filled with the sight and sounds of the bustling harbor.

you can hear the shouts of merchants handling hawker stalls even from just outside your doorway, and that’s the direction you immediately tug zhongli in, havria and guizhong trailing with smiles behind you.

(when you first met him, but a brief glance given as you walked down this very street, you’d thought of him as particular. particularly royal, particularly formal, particularly- well, interesting. dressed finer than anyone else around, yet lacking the common sense of anyone surrounding him, he was an enigma in himself.)

zhongli stumbles for a moment, shaken by your sudden enthusiasm, and gives a low chuckle, shaking his head. his footsteps follow yours nonetheless, hand tucked into your own. the string of his bracelet sways in the breeze, as if chasing the end of your own flowing string.

(it was only with time that he was willing to show you more behind that distracting facade. the micro-expressions that danced across his face whenever you made a joke he didn’t quite understand, the slump of his shoulders when he realized he had yet again forgotten to bring mora, the draining weight of century-lain exhaustion that plagued his soul.)

(it was all... zhongli.)

you’re strolling by the various stalls, each and every one selling different specialties, when you spy a certain stand by chance. letting go of zhongli’s hand with a squeeze for a moment, you step closer to the stall’s spread of items.

to the side of a flower-pressed piece of pottery lays a pendant of cor lapis. you pick it up to inspect it further, and are only increasingly surprised by the fine details and remarkable craftsmanship.

“zhongli! come over and look at this!” you call, flipping the locket over in your hands. the more you look, the more stunning it seems to get. a single dahlia head is perfectly encased in molten amber, fine pattern displayed beautifully and strung masterfully on a delicate metal chain.

“zhongli?” when he doesn’t respond, you turn around, mildly confused. there, he stands unnervingly still, eyes wide and shocked. you tilt your head, looking around you to see what he could be so uncharacteristically surprised about. nothing is out of the ordinary. chefs are strolling around, shopping for groceries, and construction workers are still repairing the damages to a house nearby. it’s alright nearby the cliffs, no mishaps or accidents, and the sun shines as brightly as ever.

you look down— and all at once everything seems to make sense as blood-red petals spill out of your lips onto the ground.

the pendant slips out of your grasp, and the world stops for a moment.

(you know what this means.)

then, an ear-piercing scream rings out, echoing inside your head, breaking the silence, and suddenly everything is shattering, golden shards flying across the floor, and try as you might, you just can’t, can’t— can’t pick up the pieces fast enough.

(not again, not again, not again—)

you clutch at your neck, vines climbing up your throat and petals forcing themselves from your gaping mouth. it burns. the pain sends you reeling, licking white hot from your veins and into your flesh, and you collapse onto the floor, curled up and clawing at the gaping emptiness growing inside you. it’s choking, suffocating, and the claws of your ribs dig into your lungs. the splintered pendant shards cut at your knees.

(rightful punishment for what you’ve done.)

your head throbs with freezing realization as you remember once more, contrary to the flames singing your nerves. the stinging pain stabbing your skin only worsens, your breaths becoming shorter and shorter.

keep telling yourself lies,

the voice in your head whispers,

because zhongli is dead anyway.

it screams—

this is what you deserve.

(he was so, so beautiful.

kind in all the right ways, wise in all the best.

and then you just had to strangle him with your own hands.

lying traitor.

withholding one side, then murdering the other.

—should just disappear.)

now, it is your eyes that burn, when did you even close them?, and you force your heavy eyelids to open. you chest heaves, and your mouth struggles to do anything other than choke on flowers. you can’t breathe. in your hazy vision, zhongli crouches in front of you, all regal bearing discarded. he’s blurry all around the edges, but you can make out the sad expression on his face. your head throbs again.

pitiful.

you choke out another mouthful of bloodied petals. the wind blows harder, as if mocking your suffering. zhongli’s thread bracelet, the matching ones you two had gotten together in hopes of brighter future, swings even harder as the draft pulls it towards the sky.

your bracelet stays placid.

zhongli lifts his hands to you, almost hesitantly, as if you would disappear any moment now. his mouth opens, as if to say something, but then it closes, and he murmurs, “shhh... it’ll be okay.”

miraculously, your lungs expand, and you take a deep breath.

his palms, soft and untelling of his long-lived history, cup your face, and he gingerly wipes away your tears. it’s too gentle, too caring for, for— for someone like you. how can he still—? he knows what you’ve done; he has to know now. of the blood on your hands.

(you- you don’t deserve him. didn’t ever deserve him. and now all that’s left for you is your pathetic being. alive instead of him. alive instead of zhongli.)

he smiles softly at you, out of place within your shaken head.

he knows.

but he still cares.

he loves you.

it’s warm, warm, warm.

tears slide across your skin once more.

and just as you’re sinking back into this haze, this dream, his smile drops—

he backs away.

the air that had just made it’s way back into your lungs vanishes, the overgrowth in your heart and soul surging forth tenfold.

please stay—

the stems that branch from bloodied dahlias grasp your windpipe, constricting it with baleful strength. your words die in your throat, and you desperately gasp for air. your heart aches, longing for something right in front of you, yet ungraspable, intangible. it eats away at the small part of you deeply hidden, tucked far inside, the part that just wants and wants and wants— wants to be happy. wants to be loved. wants.. zhongli. “—y child.”

he must see something in your eyes, because he purses his lips and turns his head away. it’s a stark contrast to all his earlier behavior, and it has your heart freezing over, heavy and cold and wrong.

unwanted.

then again, this illusion is over now isn’t it? of course it’s your fault once more, these stupid stupid flowers killing you; both your ignorance and your bliss.

he’s still so, so beautiful.

“—ke up, m-“

the last kiss he presses to your forehead goes unnoticed, as does his tears, your eyes trained solely on his back as he stands up and walks away calmly, steadily.

forgotten.

in the distance, even with your increasingly darkening vision, you can make out the forms of guizhong and havria smiling, welcoming him.

(you love him, love, love— is that not enough? not enough for you to stay? here? please, why whywhywhywhywhy—)

so that’s why they were here.

you wish you could follow them.

the piercing pain of asphyxiation slices through your chest as if in reminder of your betrayal, throbbing with every shaky breath you take as you watch zhongli fade away. your hands claw futilely at the ground, nails dirtied and fingers sore. the first loud sob escapes your throat.

“wake up—“

useless.

(no, no no nonono, please come back love, please, don’t leave, don’t leave don’t leave, pleasepleaseplease—)

your battered, bloodied form shrinks into itself, seeking lost comfort and amber eyes, hands clutching your once shared bracelet. the light in your eyes dim and your body falls numb, hand twitching and you lose your thoughts in a daze.

thump.

stay, stay, stay—

thump.

you want to stay.

thump.

why can’t you stay?

thump.

zhongli...

thum—

“wake up, my child.”

—and then your eyes are snapping open, the tsaritsa’s shadow looming over your huddled form. in your sleep-muddled daze, you recognize her instantly, mechanically performing an informal kneel to her majesty. your legs stutter beneath you and your hands tremble underneath your sleeves. your hands curl into themselves like a lifeline as you attempt to cease your rapid breathing.

“i see you’re having dreams again,” she mildly remarks, gaze flicking to you then back at the arch of her wrist. her eyes shine in the dark of the room. you can’t tell what she’s implying, but it sends a chill down your spine nonetheless.

you don’t reply.

“there’s a new mission awaiting you, my dear.” the drawl of her voice is too languid for the emotions running through your head, much too cold and nonchalant; you barely process her words to give a shaky nod. even from where you face the floor, still kneeling, you can feel the smile she adorns.

“make haste.”

with that, she saunters out of the room, heels clicking against the tiled floor. you can hear the tinkle of the chain wrapped around her waist, and with it, a glimpse of a familiar hourglass shaped ornament. the door shuts.

you wish you hadn’t looked.

standing up unsteadily, you turn to your wardrobe to redress properly, discarding your resting top and pulling a clean one over your scar-marred form. you don’t make an expression acknowledging it, but your fingertips trace over the dull gold of a dragon tattoo that sprawls across your torso, scales spiraling in a show of fierceness.

(you don’t let the tears fall until you’re sure she’s far, far away.)

duty waits for no one. you follow in the tsaritsa’s footsteps as quickly as you can after dressing, exiting the room with grace into the cold sunlight of snezhnaya.

(...you can’t do this any longer, zhongli.)

if only the warm fog of your imagination would keep you there, safe in his arms and tucked into his chest, kisses pressed to your face and warm meals shared between warm souls. you can feel the phantom hold of his palms on your face, thumbing your cheeks and pressing the softest kiss to your lips as you trudge through the freezing snow.

after all, in your imagination, you wouldn’t be lethal poison to him.

(“a-li?”)

if only you hadn’t selfishly kept that warmth all for yourself, tightly grasping it and binding it to a being that would never be free.

maybe then it wouldn’t have died out so soon.

(“yes, my love.”)

if only you hadn’t ever loved—

(...the one thing you will not allow yourself to regret is loving him.)

Two days of pure hell.

Sirius had, rather reluctantly, done his chores, but only because every time he attempted to forgo his tasks, the snakelet would animate to life and hiss at the pirate in warning. Captain Hua would smirk in amusement. First Mate Scamander nearly fell overboard as he laughed.

And Sirius suspected that if he even so much as stepped one foot off the ship, the snakelet would not hesitate to bite him. But after the last two incidents, the first being bitten by a metallic sword snake, and the second being a head attached to a mermaid, Sirius wasn’t so tempted to jump into the open ocean. Especially since he felt his hair on the nape of his neck stand on end, as if someone was watching him from beneath the waves.

Sirius had searched for the unusually quiet second mate of the ship, but to no avail. He did try to talk to Regulus, but the terrible head refused to let the pirate see the boy because Regulus didn’t want to see him. So, Sirius spent an unusual amount of time in the ship library. Sleeping.

And Sirius was in the library asleep when he awoke in the middle of the night to someone shaking him awake. And whispering his name. Sirius nearly fell off the chair.

“James?! What are you doing here?!” Sirius whispered loudly, rising to his feet.

“Rescuing you! What’s it look like!” The unruly-haired pirate grinned. “Now let’s go before someone catches us.”

“Wait James-” Sirius tried, but James was already dragging him out of the library, and onto the deck. There Sirius could see his ship, the Star Weaver, and Lily, Frank, Alice, Peter, Marlene, and Dorcas all waving them over.

James jumped onto the railing, grabbing a rope, Sirius dug his heels onto the deck.

“James, stop! I can’t leave the ship!”

“And why the bloody hell not?” James glanced around in the unexpected delay, an unceremonious splash silenced them.

They held their breath, staring at where they heard the source of the splash. After a few seconds, Sirius turned back to James and whispered.

“Because the second I take so much as a step off of this ship, I will die.” In emphasis, Sirius held up his left wrist, to show the very much awake and angry-looking snakelet that hissed at James.

James stared at it with very wide eyes and gulped. Sirius moved the snakelet down. “Do you want me to die, James?!”

“Just take it off!”

“I can’t! It’s enchanted! It’s alive or something!” Sirius winced, the snakelet coiling around his wrist tighter as it tried to strike James in the eye.

“What?!” James looked at the Snakelet. Terror on his face.

“Aww, you listened in class!” A familiar male voice interjects, “I’m so touched.”

Quinn stood at the deck, leaning against the base wall below the stern of the ship. He pushed off the wall nonchalantly, as he slowly walked towards the two pirates. “And the award for idiotic pirate of the year goes to…” Placing a hand upon the hilt of his sword, he leans forward, grinning madly. “None other than James Potter.”

Ropes snatched up the pirates one by one from the Star Weaver and tied them all up on the beam of the mast in the center of the ship.

“Congratulations. There is no prize.” Opal chuckles as she hops down from the cargo nets, pretending to wipe the dust from her hands.

All of the pirates glared at Captain Hua and First Mate Scamander. Sirius was spared from being tied up. Peter glared, or at least, he attempted to look like he was glaring, he mostly looked sick to his stomach.

“How come he doesn’t get tied up?”

“Because your Captain wasn’t actively trying to escape. This time.” Captain Hua answered smoothly.

Sirius’ crew could say what they wanted about the White Sea Serpent, but after spending nearly two weeks on The Dragon’s Pearl, Sirius knew the Captain was more than fair. And Sirius most definitely had been behaving.

Sirius almost preened at that. Someone like Captain Hua, The White Sea Serpent, acknowledged Sirius as a fellow Captain, even if it was to an inexperienced crew. Sirius hated it. He loathed it, because it was a feeling he wished he would feel if his own family acknowledged him, bothered to even look at him. He buried the feeling.

“How kind of you to join us, I don’t believe we had the chance to meet.” Captain Hua looked down to James and the rest of the crew.

“Though I suppose now isn’t the best time to exchange pleasantries.” Quinn commented, “A shame really.”

Lily, a bright red-haired young lady with bright green eyes glared silently at the older men. “If you’re going to kill us just get on with it.”

“Sweetie, you’d already be dead if we planned to kill you.” Opal cannot help but roll her eyes.

“Not to mention our Captain doesn’t kill children,” Quin added, looking over the young pirates. The pirate seethed in silent rage at the term. “When was the last time you even had a proper meal? And not just biscuits. You’re skinnier than a gull.”

“We are not children!” James retorted.

“Oh? You’re not?” Opal tilts her head. “How old are you?”

“17 summers.”

“Oh forgive me, 17 summers, practically grown men and women then,” Quinn responded sarcastically.

“If you are grown, then I see no reason as to why the captain shouldn’t kill you. After all, you trespassed onto his ship twice, and the first was a warning.” Opal crossed her arms.

Captain Hua remained as stoic as ever, simply watching the young pirates realize that they threw away the small mercy bestowed on them. Sirius couldn’t help but grimace.

The whispers of a singular melodious voice broke the eerie silence which had fallen upon the deck at the realization. Growing ever more vociferous in each passing second, the song reached the deck and the sailors who stood upon it. One by one, more voices began to accompany the harmony. Until there was no escape from the source. The deep blue waves seemed to carry the ship forward at the whims of the melody, as if being willed on command.

It was hypnotic, powerful— heavenly even, and yet something seemed entirely wrong.

Quinn doubled over, his hands clutching his head, an agonizing wail of pain fell from his lips.

“Quinn!” Opal quickly reached for him.

Sirius, James, Frank, and every man’s eyes on the ship, became cloudy as if in a daze. Opal looked across the deck, the women were unaffected by the sound. Opal’s eyes widened. She knew what this was. Captain Hua looked to the greek woman before they both ran off in different directions. Captain Hua went for his men, Opal released Lily, Alice, Marlene, and Dorcas.

“What are you-” Lily began to ask, but Opal interrupted her.

“Tie Sirius and everyone else up!” Opal ordered, rushing back to Quinn’s side, his wails grew louder each second he heard the song.

Captain Hua would stop each one of his men who attempted to fall overboard, knocking them unconscious.

“Why isn’t he being tied up?!” Alice shouted over the song.

“He’s unaffected! Just stop them if they try to remove the ropes.”

“Then what about him?!” Marlene, a blonde-haired young lady with bright green eyes, motioned to Quinn.

“He’s resisting it! To him, the song is a horrible screeching in his head, but to the others, it’s heavenly!” Opal yelled as she wrapped her arms around Quinn’s torso, keeping him from falling overboard as he tried to escape the noise.

The sound of snapping wood caught everyone’s attention, turning to look at the ship the pirates sailed on. The Sea Weaver was sinking. Fast.

“No!” Lily shouted, rushing to the railing. Captain Hua grabbed her by her waist. “Leave it! It’s beyond repair, there is nothing you can do!”

Lily tried to push the Captain off, “No! We can fight them off!”

“Those Sirens will kill you before you ever make it across.”

Lily only screamed in frustration, Min-Jun let her drop to the deck, rushing to the railing as he saw a clawed hand reach up. The Captain of the Dragon’s Pearl struck the climbing siren down. Opal, once certain that the wailing man wasn’t in danger of falling, began to do the same. Alice, Marlene, and Dorcas followed her lead.

Again, and again, and again the sirens climbed up the ship, and there was only so much rope to hold the sailors from their watery deaths.

“There’s too many! We have to abandon ship!” Dorcas, a young lady with chin-length dark hair and bright blue eyes, shouted.

“We’d sooner die out in open water!” Lily answered as she slashed another siren down, not without receiving a scratch on her forearm.

“Do they ever stop singing?!” Opal looked to Min-Jun, who was fighting off multiple sirens at once.

“No!” Min-Jun kicked one siren right in its face, pushing it back into the water, he looked back to Opal as she shielded Quinn. “They will only continue to sing louder until they start their feeding frenzy.”

“Feeding Frenzy?!” Alice screeched.

“Oh, how wonderful.” Opal sneered as she stabbed another siren, with pleasure.

“We just need to hold them off a little longer!” Min-Jun gritted out.

“For what?! For them to eat us alive!?” Alice yelled out.

The singing only grew louder until a new melody broke through the haunting melodious song and hissing with a single voice. Min-Jun visibly relaxed. “For that.”

A distance away, were two mers. One was a female with a white tail with faint blue spots, the other a male with an amber tail which complimented his glowing amber eyes. And they were quickly rushing to the ship.

“Oh great! More of them!” Lily sneered, looking back to the siren in front of her.

“Those aren’t sirens!” Opal smiled in relief.

“They’re mermaids.” Captain Hua finished.

“What’s the difference?!” Marlene demanded, grunting as her blade slashed another siren.

The female mermaid stopped a distance away from the ship.

“Watch.” Min-Jun stopped fighting the sea creatures off.

Opal knocked one last siren back into the sea, before she stopped fighting the rest off.

The mermaid floated on the surface of the water, and began to sing. The sirens’ song came to an abrupt halt, then hissed in the direction of the singing mermaid. Some sirens began to clutch their webbed ears, diving back into the water.

“They’re retreating,” Lily watched in awe, “But why?”

“A Siren’s voice is beautiful, yes, it puts men into a hypnotic trance. Their songs are used for hunting, and have malintent for those who are misfortunate enough to fall victim to it. A mermaid’s voice has different purposes for different things. And a single mermaid’s song is far more complex and superior than a whole pod of sirens singing.” The Captain explained.

The mermaid continued to sing, scaring off the few remaining sirens, then swam to the ship.

Opal caught Quinn before he could collapse, whispering for a moment in concern before helping him to the infirmary, his ears had traces of blood. Sirius was one of the first to break free of the siren’s spell.

Min-Jun left the young pirates to mourn their sunken ship. Sirius didn’t seem too sad to see it go. James, on the other hand, wasn’t taking it well.

“Now how are we going to get off this bloody ship?” James lamented.

Sirius sighed. “If you find a way, just go without me,” he holds up his wrist, “I’d really like to not have another near-death experience thank you.”

“I’m actually surprised you didn’t die,” Remus said from behind the pirates. His arms were crossed. “I was hoping you would.”

“And here I thought you’d actually prefer me alive to get your bracelet off of me.” Sirius held out his left hand. “Please, get it off.”

“Now what made you think that?” Remus tilted his head, then lowered his arms as he walked over to the pirate. “But, since you actually behaved, I’ll take him back.”

“You’re supposed to pry information off of me aren’t you? I’m no use to you as a corpse.” Sirius retorted. “Where have you been anyway?”

Remus decided not to answer, frankly not in the mood to argue.

He reached out and took hold of the pirate's left wrist once again, clasping his hand and gripping his forearm with the other. Dúi hǎi, slithered over from Sirius’ wrist hand, and back onto Remus’ hand. Coiling and becoming inanimate once more. Its emerald eyes gleaming in what might have been the equivalent of happiness.

“Funny, I didn't think you particularly cared.” Remus comments with a small smile, “I’ve been busy.”

James, Lily, Alice, Frank, Marlene, and Dorcas all stared at the moving snake.

“WHAT IS THAT THING?!” They shouted.

“It’s a Spirit Sword.” Sirius and Remus both said in exasperation.

.

Links:

Previous Chapter: Dúi Hai and Shou

Masterlist: Secrets of the Darkened Seas

Moodboards: SOTDS, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Quinn Sandoval

Fantastic Nautical Creatures: Entry 1

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@moonofthenight

In the air that day was a hum of excitement, one that persisted in spite of his itching ears. The people amongst him, too—grinning, giggling, resonating on a frequency that he was tone deaf to.

Even the thrumming in his own chest was akin to a death march.

Her voice had been his only saving grace—the symphony stringing away con brio, above all the noise. And when he offered her his present — clumsily wrapped, barely held together with a ribbon — she graced him with a "thank you" that silenced the discontent in his mind — the darkness in his heart — if only for a moment.

But that same night, the realization Xiao had forced down all those months ago resurfaced, bubbling with a vengeance. How he wished he had just rested, instead of patrolling where he had not been needed. Maybe then, he wouldn't have had to stand testament to the tragedy he came upon on Mt. Tianheng. It was a simple tragedy, but a tragedy nevertheless.

Raining down on him, like a hailstorm, were three eagles — all skewered by a singular, steely arrow.

It was when they reached ground zero — nothing short of battered, bloody feathers at his feet — that it was he who'd taken a shot to the chest.

Memento mori.

"Remember you must die."

Remember she must die.

Flash forward to the adeptus' current state: a state of motion. Running. Practically flying. For the past thousand or so years, all he knew to do was stay still. Physically, he was and continues to be on the move. Evil never sleeps, after all.

But spiritually and emotionally, where it truly mattered, he had been complacent: to the shifting sands, to the rising tides, to the erosion of Liyue's many mountain ranges.

It's useless, he chides himself. A loud thwack! punctures the air as he descends, polearm first, from a rooftop to the cobblestone ground below. He rises from his squat form to better regard his surroundings.

To think that the esteemed Yuheng of the Liyue Qixing would willingly live somewhere ordinary...remote, even. Indeed, he's still roaming the streets of Liyue Harbor, but he would've been fooled quite easily had someone told him differently.

"I don't care to live lavish, even if it's something I am able to afford," is what she told him once, when they were discussing philosophy. "Once in a while, it does you no harm to treat yourself, but it feels ... unnecessary flaunting that which so many can’t have themselves, and—" She had chuckled here. "—Never mind. You get my point, don’t you?”

Xiao keeps that thought at the forefront of his mind as he nears the front door. Upon reaching it, he silently thanks the archons for her residence's ease of access: on the first floor and as one of the very first units of the complex.

Lifting a hand, he knocks once...twice...

The door handle on the opposite end almost immediately rattles in response.

"Xiao?"

Keqing's voice is a colorful blend of concerned and (pleasantly) surprised. She fidgets with what looked to be an empty rice bowl in her hands.

"Keqing," he acknowledges, amber eyes suddenly skittering to the ground. Ignoring the heat rising to his cheeks, he follows up with, "My apologies for the unexpected visit. I hope you don't mind."

From his periphery, Xiao can see that she's still fiddling with the bowl — shifting it, inclining it, turning it upside down and right back up. He isn't sure what it means.

"No, of course I don't mind," she reassures him. Even as his eyes avoid hers, he can tell she's being earnest. Something soft and warm to the touch permeates the fabric of his glove. Eyes darting to the side, he sees her hand clasping his — on the verge of tugging him her way.

The "come inside" catches in Keqing's breath as the adeptus simply allows himself to be ushered in. Bowl now nestled solely in her other hand, she shuts the door closed with a foot. His hand still in hers, she then leads him down the main corridor and into the kitchen, where she'd been enjoying a late night dinner.

They seat themselves in her dining room, chairs directly across one another's. He ignores the arrangement of food scattering the table in favor of examining the rest of her home. The walls are relatively bare, save for two swords displayed in their respective racks front and center. Most, if not all, of the furniture looks decent enough—nothing too gaudy or flashy, though nothing secondhand, either—but even their presence is minimal ... underwhelming for a common civilian, let alone an aristocrat.

"Sorry if you were expecting something more grand." Keqing's voice rustles him from his observations.

Xiao rekindles the will to look her in the eyes. He attempts to ignore the dark circles weighing them down. "There is no need for you to apologize. I quite like your home, actually." When she chances a dubious brow in his direction, he adds, "It seems comfortable."

Keqing exhales a breath that is half scoff, half laugh. “Great save.” She props herself up on the dinner table and begins adding contents from each dish into her bowl. Xiao watches her from his periphery, realizing that this may have been one of the first times he’d seen her eat.

“You are free to help yourself to whatever you please.”

This time, he visibly flinches — once again, roused by the Yuheng’s voice.

“I will have to politely decline.” And before she can protest, he follows up with, “Adepti do not require the same amount of nourishment needed by human beings.”

Keqing’s shoulders roll into a lazy shrug. The sound of chopsticks scraping porcelain rings in the air. “So be it. Just know that the offer is yours for the taking whenever.”

For the next few minutes, the pair sits in silence — one that is only curtailed by the occasional sound of Keqing’s chopsticks against her bowl. Silences between them have been comfortable, for the most part...perhaps not in the beginning — back when they could not yet see eye to eye, back when they found faults within each other, back when they could not acknowledge those same faults within themselves — but that tension came to pass the moment their fondness for each other began to bloom...as friends and then, eventually, as...more.

Tonight, the silence feels especially oppressive, perhaps even more so than it did when they first got acquainted with one another. And as it continues to crescendo, looming over them like gallows, Xiao can only assume that she feels similarly.

”Keqing–“

”Why have you come here tonight?”

Xiao freezes, stunned. Consider the image of a deer in the headlights — not only only the fear and the wide eyes, but the acceptance of a certain, untimely fate. In hindsight, it’s foolish for him to react so severely. Hadn’t he paid her this visit for a pressing reason?

Or perhaps he still didn’t want to accept that pressing reason himself?

He’s too quiet. He hesitates for too long. He is always too quiet and hesitating for too long. The sound of a bowl settling atop mahogany, chopsticks following suit, fills his ears. With bated breath, the adeptus feels her presence shift from the seat across his to standing right beside him.

It takes everything in him not to pivot.

“Xiao.” Keqing’s voice is firmer now...still gentle, but far more stalwart in intention. His eyes glaze over briefly, searching hers, finding in them the stubborn concern he’d grown to cherish so much.

When he still offers her no reply, she lifts a hand to his arm, fingers gently running over the exposed skin. “I know you aren’t just here for the sake of being here.” Keqing continues skimming his arm with that feather light touch, just barely cognizant of the slight bumps left in its wake. “After all, it’s a Thursday night. You know better than anyone that I like to spend these nights in solitude.” Her hand halts upon contacting his bird bone wrist.

The adeptus feels his mouth dry at the tenderness of it all, sucking in a breath once her fingertips stop at his wrist, a hair shy out of his reach. He wonders if intimacy would always feel this...strange. Exhilarating. Or was this merely her Vision’s power at work? She is an Electro user, after all...

“Please talk to me.” There’s a meek lilt in Keqing’s voice that coerces Xiao to not only look up, but to also maintain his hold on her gaze. How pathetic, the way he can stare at hell itself square in the eye but could barely muster the courage to expend even a glance her way.

“I–“ Pause. Falter. Swallowing thickly, Xiao rises from his seat. He slowly takes the hand adorning his wrist into his own — intertwining the fingers one by one, marveling at how perfectly they fit together.

Then, bowing his head and releasing a sigh, he finds the courage to speak his piece — to voice his pressing reason...

“You are better off without me.”

Xiao feels the hand in his go limp.

”What? What do you mean?” There’s an incredulity that leaks into the Yuheng’s tone that he isn’t familiar with. He doesn’t like it.

”I am not worthy of you, Keqing. What we have, it cannot be.” What vile things to say. What vile, disgusting things. The words lapping his tongue taste almost as bitter as the blood he’d once shed, so he does exactly what he did all those years ago.

He gulps it down.

”You deserve better. You deserve the world. I don’t say this with the intention of discrediting myself. But I–“ Xiao trembles in spite of himself. He feels her other hand cup the small of his back. “–I am not capable of offering you all that you deserve, or even half of that amount.”

He doesn’t quite know how he sounds at that moment, let alone how he looks, but as he feels Keqing’s arms adjust to wrap around his frame, he figures it can’t be good.

”I don’t understand you sometimes,” she whispers into the crook of his neck. “You say you don’t mean to sell yourself short, yet that’s exactly what it sounds like you are doing.” She squeezes him softly before leaning further into the embrace. “Besides, who are you to tell me what I do and do not deserve? Who is anyone to decide that? Shouldn’t that decision be mine and mine alone?”

Whenever she talks like that, Xiao finds it difficult to fathom her mortality...to grasp the idea that she would one day be nothing but ashes at his feet. Yet, as he holds her, and as she holds him, her breath, her small frame, and the bray of her human heart become all the more clear to him.

”I suppose you’re right. Forgive me. This is novel territory for someone such as myself.” The adeptus feels her form loosen as she chuckles. He rests his chin upon her shoulder. “But still, I can’t help but feel that the life you lead has far more meaning than mine.”

Xiao withdraws from their embrace, if only to get a full glimpse of her face. Noticing the hints of tears pooling at the corner of one eye, he takes a thumb and lightly brushes it away.

”But you are the protector of Liyue, handpicked by Rex Lapis himself.”

Classic Keqing. Always so quick to counter him. He begins trailing his thumb down her cheek — slowly, softly. Her eyes reflexively draw closed. “While that may be so, my time here knows no limits. I can afford to be complacent. But you–“ Xiao pauses again. At this point, his thumb is bordering the curve of her jaw and her bottom lip. “–Your time in this world is finite. As a result, you cannot afford to spend it with regrets.” Now, it’s his turn to shut his eyes. He bows his head again. “I fear that may come to pass if you continue to involve yourself with me.”

The Yuheng allows her eyes to flutter half-open. She too bows her head, if to just press her forehead to his. “You don’t know that for sure.” Lifting a hand, she rests it on top of his. She prods his thumb so that it rests on the flush red of her lip, right where it meets her skin. “Even knowing the fate of our bond, much of the future is still uncertain.”

Xiao‘s head dips lower. Their noses brush. He can feel her breath hitch. “I understand that better than most. Nothing in this world is completely certain. Even the word of our gods is something that, at times, must be taken with a grain of salt.” He almost smiles saying that. You taught me this yourself. His thumb begins gingerly grazing her bottom lip. “But wouldn’t you want to pursue that which would yield you the most certainty?” Xiao can sense his feelings going awry once more. He breathes deeply and prolongs the exhale that follows, as if to ground himself. “That includes entering a relationship with...another mortal. Someone who can provide for you. Someone who is always present. Someone...whose love will not be lost to the whims of time.” He sighs in spite of himself, consciously commanding that his voice stay as level as possible. “Is that not what you want?”

Not even a second elapses before Keqing scoffs. Whether it’s ironic or not is completely lost on the adeptus, but what he does know for sure is the feeling of his other hand being claimed by hers — of it being lifted to her face, of it cupping her cheek.

”Do you even hear yourself right now? I’m not sure whether to call you foolish or stubborn, but that doesn’t matter right now.” She releases a breath. “What matters is you knowing, with absolute certainty, that no, isn’t at all what I want.” Keqing’s face nears his even more so. Lips, parted. Eyes, half-lidded. Xiao’s thumb moves to frame the curve of her chin.

”What I want is you.” Their lips brush for a fraction of a second. Her breath is a strange comfort, hot in his mouth. “Xiao, I choose you. For better or for worse. I want to spend this lifetime with you ... and if not that, then at the very least, every second of  the time we’ve been allotted with each other. Nothing can hope to alter those facts — nothing except how you decide to proceed with this information.”

He opts to respond by, at long last, closing the last bit of distance that separates them. Lips pressed against lips, body pressed against body, hands pressed against hands.

They need not talk even after they pull away from each other, the tingling in their lips and blush sweeping their cheeks speaking volumes for themselves. Moments later, they’re close again – practically insoluble as they envelope the other in their arms, as their heads settle warmly atop each other’s shoulder.

There, they stay for a while.

“I thought you had strong conviction, young one. In your faith, and in your god,” said the voice, the lilt at the edges of the sentences betraying barely contained laughter. The eyes never faltered in their stare, never moving a fraction inside of their place in the haze.

The teen jut his chin up, the sparse stubble sticking out in uneven lengths from greasy skin doing little to bolster his intimidation. “I do.” The fear showed taut in his face — the strained twitch of the corner of one of his eyes threatening the burst of a blood vessel, and the quiver of his lower jaw. He tried and failed to breathe more than the panicked, shallow intakes in his flared nostrils.

Dark, viscous shadows crawled to the pair of eyes as the voice laughed, them clawing and whimpering and moaning as they fought in seeming death throes only to assimilate and gain form around the steady, sharp eyes. “I can feel the doubts inside you, child. You shouldn’t lie to a god.”

He pushed his shoulders back, trying to ignore the tight sting of panic settling in his lungs. “You are no god, there’s only one — and I know he isn’t you,” his voice wavered and wheezed on the last word.

Still more shadows clawed and amassed themselves onto the pair of eyes, growing more and more solid. It had too many limbs already — looking as an oil-thick and crunchy mess of blood and broken bones. “You are not convincing.”

“I don’t need to be convinced,” his tongue darted out in the pause before attempting to swallow the growing stone in his throat, “I know what I know.”

“You know what you are taught.” The eyes moved, cracking the shadows that had clawed, viscous and sticky, to form its head and neck — causing them to ripple and let out a tinny whinge of pain. “Please, child, you answer me just one question, and I may leave you be.”

His throat felt chokingly tight — too scared to blink, let alone breathe. A nearly imperceptible nod was all the petrified teen could muster.

Those sharp eyes fixed on him again, accompanied by a wide grin filled with too many teeth. “Tell me,” it said, smile growing wider and teeth multiplying, “does your god have as many teeth as me?”

Stella softened her expression, placing a careful hand on the top of the girl's head. “Sing?”

Mei rubbed at her eyes with a wrist, before looking up at her lady companion, doe-eyed, sniffing when she felt the soothing caress. “Mm! Singing makes lilies open. Mei wants them open.”

Stella took a glance at the small patch, skeptical but curious. “Lilies... You mean Glaze Lilies? Why didn't you say so. I've seen some back at the Harbor. But since we're here already, we could visit Ms. Bai. She always has them in full bloom, unlike these ones. Flowers need to acclimate to any change in their environment. We need to prepare them carefully. We could spend the night at the village? Would you like that? Do you want me to help you buy some? I have extra mor--”

Mei shook her head stubbornly, pigtails fairly bouncing, unconsciously crushing the cloth under her tiny hands. “No! No! Mei wants these lilies. Gran-gran said they different. They special! They different colour, and smell really nice, and shine like mora when moon is round and big. Mei wants these for Gran-gran. Gran-gran took care of Mei good when mama and papa went to sky. Mei is very sad, but Mei is happy Gran-gran is with mama and papa. They take care of each other now. Mei wants them to know that Mei is okay. They don't... they don't need to worry about Mei anymore.” The little girl turned away, resting her forehead on Stella's thigh, shoulders shaking from feebly holding back her emotions. Stella held the little girl's head, while her other hand went to rub at her small back.

All was silent and serene. The early evening light was shadowed by passing clouds. The flower patch kept their treasure, resolute and undetered by small, quiet sobs. Stella though, stared in contemplation, the dainty fingers on Mei's back tapping along with her thoughts.

--{-}--

“Thank you for your hospitality, Chief. We're grateful for it. Especially... ”

Granny Ruoxin hummed, moving away from the doorway. “It's one thing to awaken from a bad dream. It's another to tire yourself to sleep from a bad reality. Poor child.” The village chief paused before catching Stella's gaze. “I'll do my rounds one last time at the pagoda before I turn in for the night. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I still have leftover Sunshine Sprat.” The elder's eyes softened, looking over at Mei. “You're a kind child, Ms. Stella. Watching over an orphan.”

Stella shook her head, turning back to her charge, tucking in the blankets again to hide her discomfort.

No one has called her kind before. Then again, no one really got close enough to try.

“It's the least I could do. Her grandmother was just as kind when she took me in when I felt lost in the world.” Felt lost in this world, Stella thought.

But Granny Ruoxin didn't need to know that.

Turned away, Stella was unaware of the mysterious smile on the elder's face. “I see. I hope then your stay would bring you only happy memories, with no regrets.”

Stella pivoted in her seat, puzzled, but only met with an empty doorway to her shared room with Mei.

--{-}--

The moon was bright but gentle, it's rays shined down a path Stella avoided methodically, less she finds herself engaged with the sluggish slimes nearby. With the energy gained from the Sprat dish, she dashed, momentum unrelenting despite the random outcrop of glowing rocks and uneven ground.

Closing in on the familiar flower patch, she did a quick sweep of the area before slowing down. With treasure hoarders around, it doesn't hurt to be careful, she thought. She summoned her Black Tassel, just in case. Those slimes are relentless when they want to be.

When she felt the field was clear after a few more minutes of surveillance, she relaxed her stance and shut her eyes. At the first sign of cloud cover, she began.

《Dark is night, endless sea》

《Dark is night, endless sea》

《Gather stars, shining brighter》

《I beg thee, oh flowers bloom》

《Dark is night, cloudless breeze》

《Dark is night, cloudless breeze》

《Tender warmth, love from your eyes》

《I beg thee, oh flowers bloom》

Stella kept her voice soft, repeating the words she never sang out loud, but which she still treasured deeply.

《From my heart, I cherish thee》

《From my heart, I cherish thee》

《Welcome home, dancing in your arms》

《Joyful laughs, and sweet surprise》

《Hear me please, do not flee》

《Hear my song, hear my plea》

《I beg thee, open your heart》

《And eternity》

《Gather stars, shining brighter》

《I beg thee, oh flowers bloom》

Stella's heart raced, even as her song ended. She tightened her grip on her polearm. She took a deep breath, afraid of being disappointed when she opens her eyes.

It was a... very long time since she had reason to sing. Being a stranger, an alien, to this vast, bustling world – it felt daunting. Terrifying. Especially when she woke up in ancient ruins and mighty machines greeted her with sights set to kill her. She survived of course, but not without injury. It was only by chance, when she collapse on a bank in one of the rivers in Dihua Marsh, that a kind old lady with her granddaughter found her on the way to Mt. Qingce from Wangshu Inn.

「I... wish not to...burden you. More than... you already are. But. Please. This is... all I ask.」

「...」

「Please. Take care of...Take care of Meilin...」

「...Rest, gran-gran. You need your sleep.」

「...will...you? Take care of Mei? Please...」

「...Yes. Yes, I will. I promise.」

Stella took another deep breath, steadying her nerve, straightening her stance.

If this is the way. If this could be one of the ways she could honor her promise...

Stella opened her eyes.

--{-}--

An elegant, gloved hand picked up Slime Concentrate, silently placing a vial of it away. A man stood up, not a hair or thread out of place, despite the congregation of slimes that almost overwhelmed him from the sheer amount that had been attracted to this area. He paid it no mind though, for he was rewarded with a rare performance not seen or heard in so many centuries. He felt shamed for neglecting to remember such an experience right away, involving these particular Glaze Lilies. Surprised was he, not thinking they would flourish here compared to their usual spot further up the terraces.

His amber eyes watched, fixated, as the woman with the silvery voice that could launch a thousand demons stood in bewilderment, understandably surprised she was able to cause the rare, Gilded Glaze Lilies to open in full bloom, despite the deep cover of clouds, and the presence of an audience of two. A slight breeze brushed against her face and through the thick locks of her hair, waking her from her stupor. She slowly kneeled down, a hand stayed on her weapon, while another gently touched the tips of one shining petal.

Hm. These variants have always been fickle. Even with their previous caretaker, he mused, chin now resting on a curled finger. But who is this wonderful singer?

Shall I introduce myself?

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A/N: This scenario came to mind faster than I expected today. Hope I keep this up.