𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 || Jing Yuan x GN!Reader

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐭.

ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ⁱᵐᵖᵒʳᵗᵃⁿᵗ.

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎,
𝚒𝚏 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚍𝚢?
𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚏𝚜
 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚠.
𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐.
𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐.
𝚂𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐.

✶

"Liar," the word is spit with so much venom and force, even the ever cold and elusive Blade steps back slightly. (Y/N) dots a letter on their notebook before glaring into those amber eyes, "Don't think I have no idea who you are."

"...what?" The dark-haired man swallows, blinking down confusion, and deep-down, hurt. Their gaze stings when it pierces him, those gentle, soothing irises replaced by an unmistakable distrust. The emanator merely glares at their page, expression indiscernible.

Blade had just told them everything, everything pertinent, anyway, about their past. The two had worked and fought together an eon ago before their friend group, the strongest resistance against the Abundance, had been shattered by their 'death.' For much time, he believed that he'd gotten through to them, but he'd been sorely mistaken.

"I know what you are." (Y/N) states, now shutting their book of ramblings with a snap and tucking it away, Mara-stricken gaze unflinching, "A Stellaron Hunter. Everything, everything, you just told me could just be a ploy to capture me... to gain my trust."

A regular mortal would consider this far-fetched paranoia, but (Y/N) is no mortal. Cursed with immortality and madness, kindness and gentle actions are only made in order to acquire something to gain an advantage.

Nothing comes without an exchange.

Yaoshi had taught them that, showing them over and over again that no matter how hard they tried to heal and to heal, no good would ever come of it because more would die every day. The Aeon had shown them kindness - conditional kindness.

As long as they kept their mouth shut and followed orders, no harm would come of them and they'd be treated with love and respect from the Denizens. Question the Abundance or query about the Mara-struck, and it's a verbal or physical beating. That's how the god kept their subjects in check, well, the ones that even had a consciousness in the first place.

The Mara had probably begun to fester then. A poor, brainwashed young adult afraid of mistakes... afraid to anger their god. It hadn't been long after that they'd run. At first, they did so out of fear, but it turned into the fact that they didn't have anything else to do. The fact that they couldn't do anything else.

"No, that's not-" It's almost disconcerting to see someone like Blade at a loss for words. (Y/N) only eyes him skeptically. This is a trick. It has to be. "You only want to use me, don't you?"

Their entire life has been nothing, but one massive ploy created by the Abundance to use them and toy with them like some sort of object! Why would anyone else be different. Before they even know it, they're taking small, quick and terrified steps back, only stopping when the alley's brick walls force them to.