xistentia | [open]

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Characters: Vex & you
Summary: Vex has been in what he dubbed "this hellhole" for four months and he's more than a little furious with everything and everyone. This is a catch-all for various activities. Ping

thefacelessevil if you want a special starter.
Date(s): September.
Warnings/Notes: language, smut, Vex being Vex

Hunting trip with his vamp (

mordacita)

Vex didn't say much, just a quick text that said something along the lines of 'hey, short dark and vampy, let's go kill shite' with the location of where he'd be. It was the forest near his home, and Vex was decked out in his snug leather pants, tight sleeveless leather shirt and heavy boots despite the stifling hot weather.

He had a wicked dagger strapped to his belt, paired with a compound bow in his hands and arrows in a quiver on his back (had someone been taking lessons with Alec, or did he always know how to shoot?), all of it was black of course, because if there was one thing Vex knew how to do it was to not blend with his surroundings. Everything was ridiculously green and nature-y, the scowl on his face was deep as he sat on a mossy rock and waited for Rafa to show.

Winning the ex back? (

pillz)

It was three in the morning and started as a harmless 'plink plink' noise against Kavinsky's window- something that could be easily mistaken as a branch swaying in the breeze or maybe the start of some hail. After a few of those the next sound was distinctly unsubtle: a rock came crashing through the glass, followed by a loud drunken howl from the fae outside.

"VINNY! GET YOUR HOT BITCH ARSE BACK TO ME BEFORE I WRING YOUR GORGEOUS NECK, YA BASTARD! DO YOU HEAR ME?! I LOVE YA, YOU STUPID LITTLE SHIT!"

That's amore.

Threeway with demigods (

deathkid and

healingdork)

One day, around midnight, a sleepless Vex shows up at Nico and Will's door. Slightly tipsy, but not enough to call him inebriated, he pounds on the door until one of them answers. There, shirtless, clad in nothing but his leather pants and flip-flops, he leans against the door frame and stares at whomever was in front of him- regardless of who it was, his words were the same.

"Can both of ya screw me already?"

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"Oww!" He let out a howl of protest as he was kicked, more due to the fact that he was kicked but not the actual pain associated with it because, let's be real, he wasn't sober enough for pain.

"Look, I don't know what the ruddy hell you're on about," he puffed and rolled towards him to try and grab onto one of his legs, intent on pulling his boy down to the ground with him- since there was no way he was going to be able to get back up.

"Ugh, just, c'mere! Let's start over, yeah?"

Kavinsky falls down shrieking. Let's be real, though; he's strong enough to flip a car these days, and has to drink through multiple bottles of hard liquor. He could walk a tightrope with thirty mile per hour winds, scale a wall with his bare fingers and toes. Or his bare fingers and rubber socks that don't have grips. He's a lot of Olympians rolled into one.

And he wouldn't have fallen if some part of him didn't maybe sort of kind of -- didn't want him to.

As it is, he ends up hitting dirt with his knee, and it's wet dirt, soaking through the fabric of his jeans, cold. Vex reeks of alcohol and misery. He shoves him toward the ground. And then he slaps him. Just a small stinging one, across the left side of his face. Then another one across the right side of his face. And then two more left. "You," he says, "are a lying." Slap. "Sack." Slap. "Of. Shit. And kind of a spineless yellow-belly, motherfuck--" slap! "—er. The fuck is wrong with you? You should--" slap. "Hate." Slap. "Me."

Slapping, well, slapping was foreplay to a guy like Vex. It was contact with Vin's skin, the skin he'd been missing for weeks. Colder than he remembered, but that was because he was all vamped now. All vamped and he'd missed the transition, not that he wanted to celebrate it anyway. If he was a vamp like Rafa it probably meant he couldn't bite him, but he'd promised Rafa he wouldn't let anyone else bite him, but--

These thoughts went through Vex's head like bouncing dragonflies as his head swung back and forth with the slaps. When he'd had enough he grabbed the front of Vin's shirt and yanked him down while Vex moved up, to smother that angry mouth with his hungry one.

Bollocks to all this talking, he was going to let his kiss do the communicating and if there was one thing it said loud and clear it was I need you. Because sure, maybe he should hate him, but he didn't and he never would.

When Kavinsky had said that the faerie was worse than Caleb had ever been, that had been accurate. At least Caleb had had the good grace to slink off with his stupid dog demon half-god tail tucked between his legs, only tried again when Kavinsky had invited him to, argued with him the way he preferred. Yelling and spite, Earth scorched and fields salted. He downgraded from kidnapping people's little brothers, but Kavinsky still tends to be pretty shitty when he wants to get into the shit.

He isn't really sure what to do with being kissed in the midst of it. A few things happen at the same time. First: he gets a touch horny, thanks to the fact vampire blood overrides the boner killing aspects of his human depression. Second: his fangs pop out, because he's horny; apparently, that's a vampire thing where Rafaello's subtype is concerned. Third: he bites Vex, meanly, and out of spite and confusion, probably mostly spite, because confusion tends to make him spiteful. Fourth, he ends up burned by a fat allergic splash of the faerie's blood, magic is it is, scouring his lip and poking his chin like a hot knife.

"Fucking cunt bastard piece of rancid muff-taffy&mdash" he reels back, a hand on his face. Somewhere in the house, Amanda is probably thinking about throwing a boot.

The bite had sparked something in Vex, something primal and eager to get more of that biting (despite the aforementioned worry about Rafa). But instead of getting more, Vinny pulled away and slung out a round of verbal abuse which, honestly, Vex enjoyed as well. What he couldn't stand was the idea that Vin might leave.

He couldn't stand at all, but he was damn well going to try. With a growl in his throat, and blood in his mouth, he struggled up to his knees and made another grab for him. He wanted to pull him close, cling to his shirt, maybe yank on his floppy bit of hair so he could sloppily kiss on his neck. He was all hands and affection, neediness and drunken stupidity- but could he really blame the alcohol for this behavior? No, he probably would've done it sober just with more coordination.

"Yeah, that's the story," he puffed. "C'mere, luv. Come back to me, come back..."

Life after Eudio has done much to teach Kavinsky about how infuriating he had been as a baby creep, touching boys on their backs while they were intoxicated, kidnapping them in revenge, sending unsolicited dick pics around, the dead on his conscience, the clinging that had turned into legitimate stalking. But somehow, it still surprises him when people fuck with him in the same vein, even though Vex has considerably more of a leg to stand on. Like seven-eighths of a leg. They used to be boyfriends.

And psuedo-non-con was kind of their thing, a little bit, maybe. (A lot.)

"My face is fucking burning you rancid shit fuck," Kavinsky snaps, spitting blood in the faerie's general direction. But thanks to the fact that Vex's face is now remoraed to his neck, he winds up just ptooeying a mouthful of nothing into the air, that lands then-- somewhere on Vex's back. "God." He scrapes his elbows along the faerie's chest, trying to impose space— but not trying all that hard to toss him off entirely. Which, really. he could do. Effortlessly. "Were you this much of a royal cunt to Mark?" he sneers. He thinks the name will hurt the faerie.

"Why's it burnin'?" He muttered, confused, yet he continued to press his lips along Vin's neck and then began to blaze a trail along his towards his chin. That was dangerous, he might get his nose bitten off, but in his current state he thought it might be worth it.

Anything was worth keeping his boy close.

"Stoppit, pretty face," he kissed one corner of his lips and then the other. "Stop burning. 'n kiss me, yeah? Kiss me like you used to, like when it was pouring cats and dogs 'n you came to me in the night. Hate sleepin' without you, I hate it... Hate you hating me." He was more than a little pathetic in that moment, he knew it, but he was too far gone to give a damn. About that and the way Vin tried to namedrop Mark.

He was so sick of losing the people he loved he didn't care about anything else.

Oh my god. "'Stop burning,'" Kavinsky says. "'Stop burning.'" His mouth hurts, which is a fun distraction from the fact that his heart hurts too. And his stomach, a little. Which is funny but not fun; he didn't know vampires could feel that way. (Except he kind of did.)

(Rafaello rarely looks all the way happy, even though he only noticed that after Dick said.)

He sulks like a cat for a long minute, feeling the faerie's lips scuttle down the side of his neck. His skin prickles. He hasn't had sex in awhile, and the idea of it again— the vulnerability, is simultaneously: startlingly new and very old fucking news (Kavinsky definitely didn't invent the practice of looking for sex in love), and highly disagreeable. "I've always fucking hated you. I always fucking hate everyone."

And with that-- much like the cat pushing the bottle off the table with his little cat hand, he stuffs his knees against the faerie's chest, and pushes him off. An effortless flick of his skinny vampire legs.

"You're pretty good at groveling," he notes. "B-fucking-minus. You coulda brought me something better than a fucking rock. What, gold watches and dildoes don't spawn in this fucking city anymore?"

That wasn't even close to a good lie, and he was sure that Vin knew it. It was just something to say as you were pushing someone away, and as much as Vex just wanted to hang on and pull it was impossible in his current state. Just a little vamp strength and he was flat on the ground, his eyes blurry as he tried to focus on his boy. His boy, dammit, why was he doing this?!

Maybe he did get off on seeing him grovel. Well, Vex was good at that.

He began to sit up again, a terrible idea as the entire world spun like he was in a top, but he was a professional at holding back his sickness at this point. Still, all he managed was to get up on his elbows, the best he could do at the moment. It was tempting to mesmer Vin down to him but that was a horrible idea and he couldn't remember exactly why, all he knew that it could potentially kill him. No mesmer.

"Look," he began after a heave of breath. "B-minus is still a passing grade, yeah? You don't hate me, you don't..." Another inhale and he attempted to sit up completely. "I don't think I'd care even, even if ya did... I still love you. So go'n and hate me then, I'm still gonna love ya."

Kavinsky's face is flinty and hard in expression, empty of feeling. Or full of the feeling that used to always make him look like he didn't have a soul at all. Ronan used to think it made him look innocent; Gansey used to take it as evidence he was nothing, that there was nothing inside of him. In truth, Kavinsky was always full of sentiment; every mocking jibe he threw in Ronan's direction for being dramatic, for being sad, could have ricocheted back onto himself.

"If you want to hook up again, say you hate him."

His voice is flat as death, his stare near unblinking. He scrapes his skinny, tattooed fingers through his hair, some token vanity despite the fact that he's a disheveled mess, powdered in dirt, dotted with scraps of grass. There's a hint of a sneer haunting his full-lipped mouth, no kindness in his hollow-eyed stare. Eudio taught him a lot of things, but out of the more doubtful improvements, he developed a habit of hurting with words. "G'wan. Hope he's gonna spend all of fucking eternity in screaming agony. Say it loud enough for F.A.T.E.S. to fucking hear you. Say it like you mean it."

"Right," he began with an annoyed expression that seemed to grow the more he spoke. "Easy enough, yeah? All I gotta do is lie to you to get my way, something I've done all my life so it oughta be a skate. But here's the problem, luv, you 'n I both know that's not gonna cut it. You're gonna test me again 'n I'm gonna fall right back down on my bloody face." He growled out those final words as he forced himself upright.

"I'm not over him 'n even when I do get over him I'm not gonna hate him, that's stupid, he's never done anything bad to me!" In fact, he was the only one that Vex could think of who'd always treated him decently and gave him the benefit of the doubt. A thought that made him suddenly quiet and swallow against the lump that formed in his throat.

It was very sobering to realize he'll never have that again. And here he was, desperately trying to cling onto a kid who didn't trust him anymore and probably never would. Maybe he would've had a chance if Kavinsky didn't have anyone else either, but he was pretty sure that wasn't the case. He was as bad as Massimo with his mummy, begging for something he could never have and shouldn't want anyway.

"Fine," he said suddenly, his voice less slurred and deadened. "You win. I'll bugger off, then. Happy now?" He broke the stare as he turned to leave- defeated, humiliated, it was nothing new for him. That was his life now.

There's a staccato kind of silence. Long enough for the faerie to get up, start to move away, the light from the modern wooden house fading off his back.

And then a rock bounces off Vex's ass. A smaller one than that which Kavinsky had brained him with moments ago.

"Fucking delighted," he shouts. Standing like a scalded cat, back up, eyes big in the dark, all teeth and spikes. "Don't I fucking look over the fucking moon? This is basically my cum face, shithead. 'Course you could fucking tell, 'cause you spent like five months fucking my brains out after you got back to Eudio." His voice rises and cracks like a storm mounting the horizon. He stoops to get another pebble, quick as a blink, because: vampire. Hurls it squarely at one of Vex's calves.

"You don't get to fucking use people like a goddamn jizz sock, then put them right back on your fucking cock cuz they don't like the rancid stank-ass itch, you rat fink bastard. What's the worst thing you ever did to Mark, huh?"

Vex hadn't gotten far before he was reminded of one of Mo's manic moments. One second he was pushing him away, the next he was screaming and hurting him, the next phase was typically all hugs and begging forgiveness. He was sick of it then, he was sick of it now, and he growled in a mixture of pain and frustration.

"What the fuck do you want from me?!" He yelled out, the depth of his frustration clear in his voice as he half-turned towards his ex. "I want to stay, you want me to lie, and I can't change what's been bloody been done! Stop crying over the past for one minute and just come out with what you want now that doesn't involve a fantasy land?!"

It's an impossible question. For Kavinsky, it's impossible. It would be impossible to explain what he wanted that didn't involve fantasy, because nothing he wants seems even remotely realistic— has ever seemed remotely realistic. To be loved, valued, with some semblance of commitment, safety, a halfway clear understanding, some kind of future. Two good months. Three. Three months without unimaginable, soul-crushing pain and humiliation. After Eudio, by now, he knows that it might only be impossible because he is.

Most days, that'd mean he'd lie. But today-- something about Vex's turned back, something about Vex looking like he's the one who gets to be hurt again. Something about the fact this is the third fucking time, after Ronan, after Caleb, and he didn't even kidnap anybody this time. Third time, no charm. Nothing.

"I wanted you to unfuck my life, you jackhole piece of shit," he shouts at Vex's half-turned back, his fangs in a snarl, but his tattooed hands loose at his sides and his eyes stay oddly dead despite that— he'd been off his meds awhile before he turned, and the bad old habits started creeping up onto him. Like cutting off emotions the way they say jackals will chew off their own feet to get out of traps. And of course !! adding some awful shit to the biting bit of honesty he dares to share. "I wanted you to unfuck my life like Mark unfucked your life.

"And now that you fucked that up, I want. I want whatever you'd do to D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. for taking him. There's probably— a billion fucking worlds out there where he finds someone else. Whatever you'd do to them, that's the shit I want to happen to you."

"No, darling, Mark didn't unfuck my life," he began with a sneer, his eyes dark and shadowed by his lashes as he barely looked at the boy who once so desperately needed him. "He showed me what it was like to be loved and now I'm fucked forever because I know how good it feels. I know what it's like to be someone's one and only and all I want is for that feeling back, I'd do anything for it. I thought you could give it to me, but all you want to do is chase my bloody ghosts!"

He nearly shot out his hand to mesmer Kavinsky, but caught himself before he did it. He clenched his hand so hard that his blunt nails dug harshly into his palm, enough to bruise. "He wasn't taken, I died and this is my hell. Alone, surrounded by couples, given hope when one of them breaks up and wants me only to have him reject me. So go on, go through your torture list then love, because I promise you that nothing you do to me can match what you've already done. The last person to give me hope before you was him and we all know how that turned out."

His head tilted up as he shouted at the sky. "YOU GETTING OFF ON THIS, F.A.T.E.S., HADES, WHATEVER YOU ARE?! This is what you wanted, yeah?! What does it fucking matter!?" He growled in frustration before he stomped off again, and this time if Kavinsky tried to throw more rocks at him he would mesmer him- burns be damned. He didn't care anymore.

Kavinsky's brilliant plan of making sure this was entirely about him doesn't seem to be working as well as he'd hoped, and he's suddenly too disoriented to fix it. He's never been good at fixing things, anyway, certainly not to persuade anybody else to see things from his point of view. It grates, that Vex turns to address F.A.T.E.S., or 'Hades?'-- 'the powers that be,' when all this shit is about him.

S o he kind of collapses in on himself like wet cake, no longer spitting curses after Vex, but imploding into something morbidly cold, dead-eyed, his face rigid, empty as a corpse's. He does throw another rock, but it misses-- half intentional, just to see if Vex would flinch.

Life is a fucking nightmare. What people dream for you. Xistentia seems proof of that as much as anything Kavinsky's ever seen in his life.

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vex is a tirefire

bae, no (also powerposing)

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cw c-word she pointlessly warns!!

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