#Xibalba x Reader

[yandere-toons]

I know this is a little early but can you do a Book of Life headcanon for Dia De Los Muertos? It can be La Muerte and Zebulba or Maria, Manolo, and Joaquin. (I love your writing so much!)

Yandere La Muerte & Xibalba (Platonic & Romantic Headcanons)

Warnings: Death, Toxic Mindsets.

A.N. – ¡Feliz Día de los Muertos!

While the candle of her chosen mortal is aflame with life, La Muerte dons it proudly in a prime spot among her dress or hat, close enough to where she can always feel its heat and wince at the exact moment it goes cold. If so exists even a whiff of foul play, it is her husband Xibalba who punishes the living with a sudden uptick in fatal snakebites.

Hot boils the resentment of Xibalba, who never so wished to eradicate the Law-Maker as he does watching his own helpless reflection in the window of a home where his favourite mortal lay despairing. Decades of deceit and contrivances just to share a few words, forced by ancient law to conceal his true name and nature, have worn his patience to a thread. At the same time, Xibalba is inclined to thank this purveyor of death in person, to offer a taste of what the latest victim endured and send the slain soul to rot, as he did, in the Land of the Forgotten.

La Muerte, for all her power in death, can in life offer only words of encouragement from the mouth of a kind stranger. She often observes their day from the secrecy of terraces and distant roofs, watching to ensure their happiness and step in with bits of wisdom should they seem lost. She refrains from direct intervention until the day they wander inside her castle, at which point she cannot help wondering how much longer it may have taken to meet them this way had they lived the life they wanted. Such rumination is channelled into action as La Muerte focuses on bringing them more comfort with their new arrangement than ever they found with the living, seeing it as a way to make up for all the strife she was forbidden from preventing.

La Muerte is happy to join their visitation for Día de los Muertos, believing it will help them grow more accustomed to her and accept her as someone deserving of a higher role in their existence. Xibalba gripes the whole time while wondering where he went wrong to make them so opposed to his presence that they would choose the company of mortals over a night spent drinking and feasting with him and his wife, even questioning whether La Muerte is behind all of this to punish him for some ancient crime.

Xibalba muses that, for a bond so strong as this, he could use his deathly touch to kill their relatives all at once, feigning the promise of a reunion — while keeping to himself that such a deed would only eliminate the last of their tethers to the living and thus send them straight to his realm in perpetuity. Xibalba has one finger outstretched to do just that when La Muerte slaps it down and swears she will never forget this should he go through with it.

Xibalba wilts at her wrath but soon grows restless with spite and decides a more clandestine approach will net him his petty vengeance. If simply snatching away a few lives is too vulgar, then perhaps he can make a wager of it. La Muerte, her inner child intrigued, listens as he spins the age-old tale of a fair trade: if their spouse in life leaves town; if the kids down the street go on to marry one another — Xibalba will claim hosting rights, and if not, he will stop cursing their mortal attachments.

Neither are too moved by sympathy plays, having heard every plea imaginable from souls desperate to live and reunite with those up above. A bet, however, draws from both gods the memory of a younger time, a splash of excitement in an otherwise predictable system.

La Muerte's conditions are more palliative: not protesting when she requests a day spent with her, not trying to breach the living-dead barrier before its time. When others or perhaps even the soul themselves begin to question these once-thought agape embraces and invitations to dine, the goddess admits to a more personal interest. She has walked beside them for much of their life and feels they were cheated by it, seeing the bad side of the world too much and the good side too little, and so has taken it upon herself to show them what could have been.

Xibalba's conditions revolve around staying with him for longer periods, say a millennium instead of a century, or granting him explicit permission to kill some mortal companion of theirs who stokes his envy. Such a blessing is by no means necessary to carrying out the hit; rather, it serves as a colossal show of deference as well as a convenient method of claiming the person's blood is now on their hands.

La Muerte can generally be relied upon to act as a restraining influence on Xibalba, keeping him from wiping out whole droves of mortals in a fit of cruelty; however, even she will leave them to their fate if the terms are clear and both parties have agreed, for a wager with a god is all-binding. By refusing to fulfil one's end of it, the winning side is bound no longer to the stipulations set forth in the agreement and may exact any price as recompense.

Only one path to victory remains: accuse Xibalba of rigging the bet, which La Muerte will be inclined to believe given his history, assuming a trip to lodge this complaint with her is even feasible. Xibalba may suspect this intent to oust him and cancel the next dinner date in haste, professing to La Muerte that he and his new roommate are getting along splendidly.

La Muerte laments their absence and voices her desire to see them again, to which Xibalba pleads that she has hosted them long enough and to give him a chance. Despite a winding series of lies and broken promises to consider, La Muerte is committed to forgiveness and thus gives her word that she will not try to ferry them back to her land, at least until the next bet is up.

Xibalba's lonely heart is all too eager to drag them down into the Land of the Forgotten, where souls hardly move or speak, having lost all sense of self. Immortals and mortals alike who spend any significant amount of time in this realm incur some degree of degeneration and start to lose touch with what made them human, a process Xibalba endlessly chatters about to fill an otherwise eternal silence.

La Muerte, once content with this tenuous sort of balance, finds the scales tipping when they express a disinterest in reconnecting with the living world. Chaos erupts as La Muerte challenges Xibalba to return their soul, convinced he is poisoning their heart with his own bitterness for humanity. Xibalba deflects at every opportunity, suggesting that he merely speaks a harsh truth and offers an escape from the drudgery of mortal life.

A deep frustration ignites within La Muerte, less now at the dark turn of her husband, which she has begrudgingly come to accept, and more at the threat of losing her chosen soul to exactly the kind of existence she strove so hard to separate from them. Even though the march of time will one day condemn the soul to what comes after, La Muerte sought to enrich their short journey and give them the taste of true happiness they could never afford.

While she has walked this path with many and knows the weight of her title demands she overcome her grief, cursed objects of half-formed immortality and interjections of the soul's name into increasingly unrelated projects and movements are the desperate final scratches of Xibalba. A god who chases off the inevitable, Xibalba scrambles to build this entire false history in those last few years, only to watch it crumble when his actions force La Muerte to banish him for upsetting the natural order.

[crystalofmoon19]

Request Rules:

Hola a todos!

My name is Crystal, your favorite Latina writer, and I have decided to open my own requests. I will also write my own fanfics and one-shots, but I think I'm ready to open my requests, so they should follow the following rules:

What fandoms will I write to?

● Helluva Boss - (more specifically I will write Striker, I may write about other characters in the future, but only in SFW.)

● The Book Of Life - (it is one of my favorite movies and needs more content like this, I will write characters like Joaquín, Manolo, María, La Muerte and Xibalba)

I belong to more fandoms but for now I will only write for Helluva Boss and The Book Of Life.

I'll write:

● Character x Reader

● Character x Character (Sometimes)

● Crossovers (Sometimes)

● Headcannons (whether they are romantic or just friendship).

● Female Reader (or AFAB reader mainly, but I can write about any type of reader)

● Fluff.

● Angst.

● SFW.

● NSFW.

● Smut/Lemon.

I'll not write:

● Sexual violence.

● Discrimination against women.

● Discrimination against LGBT+

● Nothing related to children in any romantic or compromising situation. IF YOU ASK FOR SOMETHING LIKE THIS YOU WILL BE BLOCKED AND REPORTED!

● If you have any weird philias, I'm sorry but this is not your blog!

Note: I also wanted to say that if you notice spelling mistakes, it is because my English still needs to improve, since my native language is Spanish. So if you speak Spanish, you can ask me your requests and I will gladly write to you!

I want this space to be comfortable for everyone. Including the Latin American community.

- Crystal ❤️‍🔥

[yinora-evergreen]

A Flower?

It will forever remain a mystery to Xibalba how he got so lucky, two wonderfull partners willing to put up with him.

It was the day of the dead, also known as Día de los Muertos, Y/N and La Muerte were watching over the graveyard together.

Y/N was the god of lost souls, and people worshipped them at a special altar in the graveyard whenever they feel lost.

In Return, Y/N would send a sign that would help them get back on track, one time a young boy wasn't sure if he was loved, and he went to their altar to ask for guidance, and in return Y/N sent a small dog his way to give him all the love he needs.

La Muerte and Y/N were happily watching the people when Xibalba appeared, a sly yet genuine smile on his face as he hid his hands behind his back.

"La Muerte, Y/N" he greeted each of them.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up" Y/N said in a joking tone.

"I almost thought you got lost in the land of the forgotten!" La Muerte laughs at the comment, and Xibalba clears his throat in embarrassment.

"I just had to do something first"

"And what was that? Practice your scary voice to scare kids?" La Muerte gave Y/N a look.

"Erm, no, I just... Here!" Xibalba shoves a flower in La Muerte's hand and Y/N's hand.

"Xibalba, whats this for?" La Muerte says with a smile.

"I just... I was just wondering if each of you would maybe be interested in being mine" Xibalba says a little awkwardly, suprised when Y/N kisses his cheek while holding La Muerte's hand.

"Took you long enough to ask" La Muerte says while hiding a giggle.

La Muerte also kisses Xibalba's cheek before also kissing Y/N's cheek.

Y/N grins "this would call for a celebration, wouldn't it?"

"Oh? it seems like you already have an idea" Xibalba smirks.

"How about a bet?"

Both La Muerte's and Xibalba's eyes lit up with interest.

"I bet those three" Y/N points at a trio of two boys and a girl.

"Will also end up in a polyamorous relationship"

Xibalba and La Muerte both grin.

"And if they don't?" Xibalba asks, though he can't hide his happiness.

"If they don't I'll let you both choose what type of guidance I'll send to the next ten people who feel lost" Y/N knew both Xibalba and La Muerte loved the idea of the bet.

"Deal" they both reply at the same time.

Y/N smiles and kisses both of them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Xibalba smiles at the memory as he lays on one side of Y/N, La Muerte laying at their other side.

How did he get so lucky?

______________________________________________________________

I hope you like it! feel free to request more anytime you'd like<33

[also i apologize if its a little ooc, i just hope its good enough]

[minty-drop]

La Muerte x reader

Reader is described gender neutral. La muerte and xibalba are described as friends instead of lovers.

Containing: romantic themes, comfort

Type: headcanon (as close as possible to canon)

She is one to be gentle, kind nature almost like a mother hen is present in your relationship. From making sure you sleep comfortably at night, to asking if you’ve eaten today, she always makes sure your well being is healthy both mentally and physically.

Understandably since she is the ruler of the land of the remembered, you are bathed in the luxuries fit for a royal, exotic food and endless entertainment at the tip of your finger. But do not become to greedy, because she easily can take it all away with the snap of her finger.

La Muerte is understanding, reassuring you with honest but honeyed advice and words of appreciation, her warm comforting hugs are a bliss, the scent of flowers and caramel is present each time you are close in contact with her.

She is not the clingy type, believing in personal space and light affection in public both for her comfort and her status as the rule. For professionalism she keeps her hands to herself.

When alone, her tall figure will bend down to enjoy the fluttering kisses you give her, it reminds her of how butterfly’s land on her in the land of the living.

If your in danger some how, she is quick and swift to swoop into the situation, and thankfully because she is seen as powerful and almighty, anyone who dared to challenge you is quick to scurry away from you at the sights of the tall women.

La Muerte finds it adorable when you try to be stubborn with her, she does not mind and even adores when you huff and puff when you KNOW she will win. If you defend her from anything she will swoon over it, finding comfort in the protection she does not need but still enjoys the feeling someone would throw themself in front of her. Of course she ends up saving you, but it’s the thought that counts.

When xibalba is around she can become slightly protective if xibalba becomes to close. They are friends, but that does not mean she trusts him enough to be near you after he cheated on the bet that sent him to his rotting lands of the forgotten in the first place.

All in all, it is quite a healthy relationship between the two of you. Honey and sweet, but you both respect your boundaries and that’s what makes it special.

If you would like to support me and my writing, giving a like or reblog is greatly appreciated. Got a question or constructive criticism? comment to let me know how to improve! Got a request for a story or headcanon? Ask away!

[djljpanda]

can you do general Mammon relationship headcanons with gn! reader?

Mammon X Gn Reader

You two give off like king Henry iii and Anne Boleyn vibes

Mammon might just have wanted at first probably cause you were hot but after all the money, gold, jewelry, and luxury items you turned down it was more on an obsession

I think you started to date him because when man tried to flirt with you he was just a loser and you like losers so you gave it a shot

Even while dating you played the hard to get card so you had this prince wrapped around your finger

You are both his sugar baby and sugar daddy/mommy/ guardian

When man tries to make you think like you are worthless you always make it seem like he needed you and you didn’t him

This relationship may start of toxic but you two did start to get along seeing how you two can stand each other more and the sex was greater after that

Mammon would like to show you off making you seem more valuable than gold itself

You were more like his sexy secretary that also looks after all the stuff that Mammon may push to the side just to make sure it wasn’t important

I think you were like the caring mom when it came to Fizz and Mammon and was just the stepdad who would only do things for the kid only to be in the good graces of the mom

You do make Mammon a better man but he only says he will be a better man for you and you just answer with a “good enough”

For some reason I see Morticia and Gomez and La Muerte and Xibalba as like a quick summary of you two

[reticent-writer]

hello I have a request for you!! Hazbin hotel edition

Okay okay so Lucifer x Gn reader but reader was like le murete from the book of life?? And they are also taller then Lucifer!!

(I LOVE THAT MOVIE JUST BECAUSE OF MARIA AND LE MURETE!! and I also thought of Lucifer having a xibalba and le murete relationship!!)

I love book of life have u watched Maya and the three it's made by the same people with the same voice actors its amazing.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

Lucifer had just gotten back from the hotel looking more depressed than ever. You didn't get a chance to greet him because he went to your shared room to shove his face into his pillow.

You followed him in worry.

"What's wrong, my love." You say gently and sit on the end he of the bed while rubbing his back.

He signed deeply before raising his head to face you, "Charlie wants a meeting with the head angels and I... Let her." He refused to look you in the eye.

The both of you had many conversations about the hotel, although you disagreed with his say of thinking it never ended in a fight.

"They won't listen to her. They wouldn't even listen to me. I mean I know how she feels, I've been there but she only sees the good. I- I don't want her to go through what I went through." He ranted.

"I think she can do it. She's not you after all." You said meaning it as a compliment but came out wrong.

"Hey your not helping."

You chuckled.

"I mean she's born in hell and yet she still cares about them. Even if the meeting downs t go well she's not gonna give up. They make a bet. I say she's gonna succeed." You reach out your hand waiting for him to shake it.

"I'm not saying she's gonna fail, I'm saying she's gonna end up like me."

"And what's wrong with you?"

"Uhhhh a lot.... Fine." He shook your hand.

"No get up. I made dinner." You pull him off the bed and interlock your fingers.

He raises your now interlocked hands and kisses yours.

"Your the best, y/n."

"I know." You chuckle.

"Thanks for sticking by me. I love you." He looks up at you with a lovesick gaze.

You lean down to kiss his lips.

"I love you too."

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

[vikkirosko]

hello I have a request for you!! Hazbin hotel edition

Okay okay so Lucifer x Gn reader but reader was like le murete from the book of life?? And they are also taller then Lucifer!!

(I LOVE THAT MOVIE JUST BECAUSE OF MARIA AND LE MURETE!! and I also thought of Lucifer having a xibalba and le murete relationship!!)

🍎 Lucifer Morningstar x gn!Reader headcanons Le Muerte 🐍

Lucifer met you at his daughter's hotel. You stood out a lot from the rest. You were tall, in red clothes, your hair and clothes were decorated with skulls and orange marigolds and with unusual makeup resembling a skull. You were beautiful and Lucifer couldn't help but feel attracted to you

When you started dating, he tried his best to surround you with romance. He played the violin for you, sang songs and found ways to make you laugh. He really liked your laugh. He even made a duck for you, whose muzzle looked like your makeup. It was a gift that made you smile sincerely and you kissed him on the cheek as a sign of gratitude

Lucifer came to your room several times. Your room could be recognized immediately, there were orange marigolds and several candles in the hallway at your door. There were even more of them in your room. Soon your room was also decorated with a rubber duck made by Lucifer

You often spent time together, including in the kitchen. He was making caramel apple pancakes, and you were making sugar skulls. You were good at making them. Together you had a good time together, cooking various goodies. You loved making sweets and you spent time together in the kitchen. Lucifer often hummed different songs while cooking and you often sang along with him

You were both bright and got along well with each other. You have made a wonderful duo, not only in music or cooking, but also in romantic relationships. You both invested in this relationship completely. You were in love with each other and nothing could have broken your strong relationship

[demonic-charcuterie]

La Muerte x fem! God reader

Background: I named this Y/n Guías Perdida which means guides the lost. She is the guide of lost souls. People pray to her when that feel lost in life.

Perdida appeared in the graveyard in a cloud of blue petals. She was just about to meet up with the lovely La Muerte and her husband Xibalba. She strutted into the moonlight when she appeared and your smile stretched ear to ear. You jumped on her and embraced her. “Hola mi hermosa.” She said as she stroked her head. “¡Hace tanto tiempo mi luz!” You said and you squeezed her.

“Are you done? A-are you done?” You heard a raspy voice speak behind you and you deflated. “Well if it isn’t the cheater.” You growl. “Oh Dios, la chica está enojada.” He chuckled.

“Perdón, la mujer está enojada.” You barked. La Muerte chuckled and pulled your arm and Xibalba followed behind. You and La muerte giggled as you kissed her knuckles when you saw Xibalba reaching for an old man. You appeared beside him and whispered in his ear. “Balby? What are you doing? You asked and you wrapped your arms around his arm. “I hope you’re not doing what I think you are.” He groaned and shook you off. “Come on! It’s his time…almost.”

You sneered at him and bumped him to the side with your hip. “Aww dear the poor thing. So lost in the world” you stated and the man stared down a grave. “Here. Let me help you.” You said before pecking the man on his check. The man looked up for a moment but when he saw nothing and wrapped his arms around himself and smiled. You smiled yourself and strutted off past Xibalba and smirked before catching up and wrapping his arms around you and La Muerte. “I love nights like this.”

[tarjapearce]

Hear me out the book of life x bbg miguel 😍 it could either be like La muerte reader and xibalba Miguel and if that’s to ooc for Miguel then Manolo Miguel and Maria reader🙏 I feel like it’s a little ooc either way but PLSSS😞🙏

🤭 It's fine dear. I think, Miguel would do a great job as El Catrin, I feel his personality is more inclined to go with it, and the reader, well, Xibalba. Mischievous, kinda tricky but still so so loving and a softie for him :')

No proofread, just randomness ahead

"Why would I want to rule the Land of the Forgotten?" Black wings tucked behind your back as you stared at Miguel. Red eyes blinked unamused at you.

"Why can't we share? I could do a pretty good job too."

"Mi cielo, Who would watch over the land? You have the talent for it."

"You're just saying that cause you don't wanna share. The Land of the Forgotten is boring! With capital B! Nothing ever happens. It's so depressing all the time. No colors, nothing!"

"It's your realm. You're there cause you cheated on a wager." His finger flickered your nose.

You groaned in annoyance. Of course you would try and ask but to no avail. His decision absolute.

"Let's make a wager then." Smirking you planted yourself before him, his nose flared softly but waited for you to finish.

"A wager?"

"Yes. A wager . See those two boys there? They're always fighting for that girl's attention. And you and I know that only one of them will come out victorious."

"And?" His eyebrow quirqued.

"If my boy wins, I'll have your land. If the other boy wins?-"

"You'll stop meddling with the affairs of men" He caressed your cheek before disappearing.

"But it's the only fun I have left, my dear! You scared of not winning?" Your fingers walked over his chest and smirked.

-----

The wager was on. He had blessed the boy he rooted for with a pure heart, but you on the other hand had given the little jerk of a kid, an ominously beautiful looking black and green medal. The Eternal Life Medal. Whoever wielded it could be no harmed not killed. Your plan had been on a roll without any signs of stopping. Now everything you had to do was wait.

----

The two boys turned into men, both persuing their passions. Yours turned into a respectable and famous soldier that always ended up living to tell the tale thanks to his magic medal none knew about. And Miguel's boy had grown into a famous bullfighter. Even though both were different the love they had for the girl, now a lovely looking woman, remained the same.

But you had seen the hesitation in Miguel's part of the bet. Despite him being a famous matador, he didn't wish to inflict any more pain in the poor animal. He wanted to sing.

The woman seemed impressed by his act of mercy. You would have to step up in your game if you wanted the Land of The Remembered.

----

A two headed sneak had bitten Miguel's boy, he had gladly took his role among the dead if that meant to rescue his beloved.

A rare sight among the perverse humans. A pure heart. Of course it was cheating, but it'd make you one step closer to be the ruler of such wonderful and colorful land.

---

Your name echoed through your old realm as Miguel roared, full of anger. He had discovered what you had done.

"Repugnante hija de burro leproso! Hiciste trampa. Otra vez!" ( You misbegotten daughter of leprous donkey. You cheated. Again!)

"I did not do such thing!"

His boy was there, facing you, needing answers. And so was Miguel.

---

You had put Jim through his worst fears, a maze that somehow he was able to decipher, and the final test. El Toro. (The Bull)

A manifestation of every single bull slayed by his ancestors.

-

Miguel's boy had won the wager. You were to return to your realm.

"I believe you've won the wager again mi amor. Just like my heart, all over again."

His eyes softened and a bony finger was brought to your chin.

"I'm really sorry my love. Would you ever forgive me?"

"I do"

He pulled you closer to give you a deep kiss as the skies exploded in colors.

-----

(Love this movie btw 🥹❤️)

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Give Me Your Heart, Make It Real, Or Else Forget About It

Pairing(s): Manolo Sanchez x Reader, Manolo Sanchez x Maria Posada, Joaquin Mondragon x Reader

Warnings: soft nsfw, implications, break ups, Manolo might be OOC since it’s been a while that i’ve written for the book of life, bsf to lovers, gonna try writing for gn reader for first time, probably not as fluffy as anon may have wanted, a lil angsty cuz that’s my bread and butter, world expansion, alcohol consumption, both reader and Manolo are of age, dancing, young horny adults

Words: 8029 (jfc this has got to be my longest fic ever. fingers crossed it doesn’t suck lol)

Summary: Only one thing comes to mind when faced with mending your friend’s broken heart: drinking.

* inspired by Santana’s “Smooth” 

*Man now I really want pan dulce

“Jesus, Manolo.” You breathe out when you open your front door. His eyes were red and puffy, shoulders slouched forward utterly defeated. Even his hair, meticulously styled was a mess that drooped over his face. It was starting to get dark, street lamps were barely starting to be lit. 

When he brings his big brown eyes to look up at you, you know whatever happened was bad. Worse than anything you had seen him go through before. Your heart plummets. The worst thing was seeing your best friend in shambles. 

His lips move, about to say something but thinks better about it when a glossy sheen grows over his eyes like he’s about to cry. Immediately you usher him inside your hacienda and settle him down on your sofa. He looked like a giant sitting on it, especially as you wrap him in one of your thick, quilted blankets your grandmother had made you. You scurry to your little cocina to grab a warm drink for him and perhaps some pan dulce if he wanted it although you doubt he has much of an appetite. Upon your return, Manolo is blankly staring at your wall. Normally lively eyes were dull, nearly lifeless. That scared you more than anything. You put aside what you brought him on a small end table and get on your knees in front of him, imploring to tell you what was wrong. His hands were large in your’s when you grab onto them and pull them close to your chest. Never before had Manolo been as broken as he was there on your sofa. Not even with the whole thing involving literal immortals like La Muerte and Xibalba. When Xibalba fooled everyone into thinking Maria was dead. Absolutely cruel of them to use your friends’ lives in a messed up bet just because they were oh so bored of immortality. Thankfully since then, life in San Angel returned to relative normality. Or as normal as San Angel could be. 

He wasn’t ready to talk. Not just yet. The only thing you knew he needed right now was to bury his face in your shoulder as you held him in your arms. His shoulders tremble and you feel wet plops against your shoulder. Allowing him to take however long necessary until he gathered his thoughts. The only thing you could think of that could put him in such a state was something bad happening to Maria. They definitely couldn’t have broken up. They were still in love with each other after all those years of waiting and pining. Surely their love would last forever. Unlike you and Joaquin who’d been doomed from the beginning. That had only lasted a year before things disintegrated between you and Joaquin. One of those situations where it turned out you loved him more than he loved you. Not everyone could have a fairytale relationship like Manolo and Maria. Funny how back then you were in Manolo’s position and he’d been the one consoling you. 

What you had thought was a baseless fear was actually reality for him. 

They had broken up.

Even as he told you the lead up, you still didn’t want to believe it. Sometimes love wasn’t enough to keep two people together. Maria has always had an adventurous spirit. It led her to many escapades and mishaps that your parents didn’t necessarily like. She got you and the boys into plenty of trouble. Her fun loving nature was what broke her bond with Manolo. She wanted to travel, see more of the great big world out there. Manolo though, he was all too happy staying in San Angel. While his family no longer walked on this plane of existence, he loathed the idea of leaving his home. Not after all he went through to get back and save it. Plus you and Joaquin were still here. He couldn’t up and leave his best friends. Maria exasperated herself with begging him to go with her, for she was leaving either way. She loved her work at the orphanage she missed traveling Europe. There was still so much of it she hadn’t seen. Both tried to come to a compromise but could not come up with one that would would satisfy them. Manolo was equally set with not leaving. He’d give Maria everything and anything but not this. His home was everything to him. All his memories of his family reside here. the last pieces of his father and grandmother.

While not as close to Maria as you were with Manny, you knew she would be equally devastated with this drastic turn of events. She’d loved Manolo, even as little kids you remember Maria as having a soft spot for the guitarrista. She didn’t have any other friends besides Manolo, Joaquin and you. You wonder, albeit bitterly, if she had sought comfort for Joaquin. After all, she had been the catalyst for your break up with him. He was still in love with her but accepted that she had chosen Manolo. You would always be second best to him. Unlike Maria, you had no great beauty and no talent to boast of. Not even your parents were of incredible birth like the great General Posada. They had humble jobs that kept you and your siblings fed and a roof over your head. You never held any of these things against her though. She was modest and kind and was someone who would help you up if you ever fell down. 

Finishing up his retelling, he slumps further into the sofa; weariness causing deep set lines under his eyes. He didn’t want to be alone in his own casa. He would be all alone there. You told him he could stay at your small house, for as long as he needed. Providing him with blankets and pillows, you leave him in your living room to get much required rest. Even when you woke up the following morning, Manolo was still sleeping like the dead with the blankets wrapped around him as tightly as a tortilla in a burrito. You let him sleep and go about your day, having sent word to your parents that you wouldn’t be able to work at the family panaderia. Manolo slept like the dead. Even when you broke one of your clay bowls as you toyed around with recipes to propose to your father with. He didn’t even twitch. Several times you checked to verify he was still breathing. Still alive. This was Manolo’s first ever breakup. You were much the same after your own. He rouses at your gentle prompting, reminding him to eat or drink water before going back to the numbness of sleep. 

Two days pass like this, with Manolo talking a little bit more each day but still looking blanched. When you return to work and tell your parents what has been going on, your mother says in inappropriate to have Manolo staying with you for as long as he has. You want to support your friend though and ignore her wary glances that she shoots you. 

After bidding him goodbye one morning, you make your way to work. Your little brothers are already under foot, running around the store and getting it ready to open for the day. In the cocina you hear your mother shouting at your brothers instructions and reminders as if they hadn’t been working here since the day they started walking. Mama made sure her children didn’t have idle hands. She’d even send the boys out to the town center to sell churros, not understanding why they would come back with white frosted churros and no sales. In time you hope she learns that little kids are not responsible sales people.

“There you are.” Your mama exclaims as she whirls out of the cocina and to the front counter. She’s already tossing you an apron. Prattling off the list of orders and tasks for the day, you nod absentmindedly while reaching around your back to tie together the straps of your stained apron you’d had for years. When the boys get too rowdy for her liking, she snaps at them, brandishing a wooden spoon and light threats.

She sighs and pushes you into the kitchen. “Go on. Your pap needs help with Senora Bigote’s order of three dozen conchas for her conquian night with the other ladies in her group.”

Papa is kneading dough with his strong hands that you’ve personally seen split a whole apple perfectly in half. He’s a big man and looks comical in the panaderia’s kitchen. In one corner of the room sat a wood fire oven, ready to be worked and seemingly standing in vigilance over the cocina. Automatically, you grab large baking trays and place them next to your father. You give him a quick peck on his cheek before grabbing half of the smooth, elastic dough to start shaping them.

He makes a grunting noise as he gently stops you. “I can handle the conchas. Start on the wedding cake for the Torres’.”

Obediently, you wipe off your hands and set out to gather everything you needed. You pass by clay pots and bowls used by generations of family bakers.

Solemnly your mind travels back to Manolo whose probably still fast asleep on your couch. There would be no wedding for them after all. Manolo always said he wanted you to make their reception cake when the time came. you’d already planned the flavors, layers, fruit and decorations. An occasion that had been anticipated for a while. Alas, no one would get to see the splendor of the cake you would have created for your best friend. 

Your mama takes care of the front of house often leaving just you and your dad in charge of the actual baking. 

Focused on your task, you lose track of time. When your mom goes into the kitchen to take over for you, it’s already lunch. Gently, you rotate your neck to work out the kinks and give your back a good stretch. You push open the half door that connects the front of the store to the kitchens. Both of your brothers had been sent out once again to sell churros in the heart of San Angel. You check the clock that fixed above the front door, wondering how Manolo was doing.

Front door bell jingling, your eyes move back down to the moustached face of Joaquin as he enters. You’re more than confused seeing him there. He’d avoided the panaderia after the break up. Even he shifts awkwardly in front of your widened gaze. His lush moustache wiggles as he tries to find the proper words. 

Saving him the effort of speaking first, you ask him with saccharine politeness “What can I get for you today sir?” Two years the both of you had been separated, but you still felt tender once you were back in his presence. 

Joaquin exhales and rubs at the back of his neck.  “Hey. Long time no see?” In reply you simply deadpan your face into a neutral stare. If he was going to beat around the bush you might as well get your mama to chase him out. He was wasting your time. Thankfully he was aware and gulps before continuing. “I gather you know about Manolo and Maria?”

Ah, of course. You stiffly nod “Yeah. Manolo showed up at my door the other day. He’s been sleeping on my sofa.”

He lets out a clipped laugh making something ugly in you unfurl. There’s a cruel little smirk subtly tugging up his lips but he hides it with his hand. “Of course he did.”

You didn’t bother to hide the sharpness of your frown, your elbows on the wooden counter and narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Instantly regret slaps across his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. Really. I came here because we have to do something. This an’t be how their relationship ends. Not after everything they’ve been through.”

You’d tried plenty of times to get Manolo to go back and talk with her. “It’s none of our business.”

Squinting his eyes at you, Joaquin places his hands on his hips. “You can’t be serious. Manolo literally died for Maria! They-They can’t end over something as stupid as this!”

“Apparently it’s not that stupid if it’s caused such a rift.” You counter smoothly.

A moment passes where neither of you say anything, just stare at one another. His nose scrunches up in frustration. Nostrils flare and chest heaving as he tries to prevent himself from saying something he’d truly regret. But you wore him thin. You’d always been able to get under his skin so easily. As kids you liked teasing him because he made it so easy. Nowadays it took a little more to ruffle him. 

“Maybe you’re secretly happy about this.”

This merry go round. You were familiar with this ride. “Not this again.”

When you roll your eyes, Joaquin prickles. “You and Manolo have always been close. Maybe too close to be just platonic.”

This had been a constant point of contention when you were still together. That had never been a problem before when you were kids. Those were simpler times when emotions such as jealousy wasn’t as toxic as in adulthood.

Remembering your parents in the back, you lower your voice. “Look, if you want to talk this over with Manolo, be my guest. I’m not poking my nose in his business unless he asks me to. I don’t want to talk about this here.”

His eyes follow your’s to the still swinging door. He understood and immediately straightens. If your mom caught Joaquin in her store, she’d froth at the mouth before lunging at him. Mama had never liked him and was more than happy when you told her you’d broken up. From his face you could tell Joaquin wanted to argue with you more. The medals that decorated his chest clink together as he lets go of a heavy breath. Reluctantly he turns his back to you and leaves the store. 

Joaquin’s appearance leaves you agitated for the rest of the day until your mom could no longer suffer through your sulky attitude. Your brothers having returned some time after lunch, its you whose being pushed out of the door with her wooden spoon. You’re of no use to her in that state and you were better off at home. She was right. You’d wanted to go home anyway to see how your best friend was faring. 

Your shoes click against the cobblestone streets that lead to your hacienda. An orange tint painted the sky and buildings. You many not be able to mend his heart right away but you know music and dancing always managed to revive his spirits. Anything that might act as a soothing balm for him. Worth a shot.

Front door unlocked, you turn the knob without any resistance. Manolo was still on your sofa but now he was sitting up. Recognition brings life to his eyes. He offers you a half-hearted smile just like with the other days you’d come home to him. “Welcome home.”

You go to his side. “Did Joaquin come over?”

He nods. You want to congratulate him on actually brushing his hair today. “Yeah. Tried to talk me into going back to Maria. But. . .” Manolo shakes his head.  “There’s no more talking left to be done with her. You know how Maria is.”

Yes, once she made a decision, she didn’t go back on it. General Posada tried for years to rein in that part of her to no avail. She was too much like her mother who had also left San Angel to pursue travel.

“And you’re really sure you don’t want to go with her? You won’t be gone forever.”

Sadly chuckling, his shoulders sag forward. “I did enough traveling in the Land of the Remembered and the Land of the Forgotten.”

Pursing your lips you affectionately pet his hair and feel him relax a little under your touch. “Why don’t you go clean up and come with me to listen to some good live music.”

From the down turn of his mouth,  you know he wants to reject the offer. You’d let him. Of course you wouldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to. You wanted this to be his choice, his decision. An after thought seems to change his mind though as he slowly nods his head. “Okay. That sounds like it could be fun.” For your benefit, he puts energy into his smile before you leave him to get ready and head for your room so you could change and freshen up as well. You’re sure there is flour dusting the top of your head making you look like an old lady. 

In the local cantina, they’d recently been hiring more live entertainment which included the Rodriguez brothers and even young Ignacio who Manolo had been teaching guitar to. Plus others in the neighborhood as well as musicians from nearby towns. The night life was really picking up in your once quiet San Angel. Plays were performed in the old bullfighting arena now, equally titillating the masses. Torches would illuminate the outside walls and if you lived close enough to the arena, you could hear the boisterous laughter of the crowd. It was nice to walk through the town at night, listening to joyful people. All four of you had gone out to enjoy such activities. And when you ended things with Joaquin, you and Manolo made it a point to have best friends night. They were always the best. Drinks were had (never too much because you always worked early in the mornings at the panaderia) and by the end of it your feet were about ready to fall off thanks to all the dancing. He always got you out of your reserved shell. You really shined brightly around him. Unsurprising that Joaquin may have been jealous by your closeness to the former matador. You’d always told him that was nonsense. Manolo had always been your friend. Just friend. Joaquin continually persisted that there was something more to your feelings for Manolo. 

Funny because Maria never saw an issue with how much time the two of you spent together. Sometimes she would even join in on your revelry. You weren’t jealous toward Maria being with him. Joaquin just likes to say stupid things. He still had to work on himself, undo whatever whispers were left over from Xibalba.

The both of you having dolled yourselves up (you had to admit that Manolo cut quite the figure in a matador outfit), you head out and down the street arm in arm. A lightness in his step that you were happy to see. His smile was still a watered down version of what it normally is. The goal of tonight was to get him out of his own head. Even if it’s just for a few hours. 

That night’s air tastes sweet on your tongue as you and Manolo are already laughing when coming upon the cantina. Music from inside so loud that its making the ground softly vibrate against the soles of your shoes. 

Manolo leans into you to ask “Do you know whose playing tonight?”

You list one out of town band and two local performers. From the entrance to the bar, everything becomes hazy, almost dream like as you and Manolo throw back drinks and grow more deliriously jubilant. Thankfully the music was good, aiding to the overall atmosphere. As music plays on, glasses were raised, you watch a glimmer of life return to Manolo’s eyes. Liquor infused a vibrant glow to your surroundings and the intricate patterns of the tiles beneath your feet. You spend time reminiscing of days past. Manolo couldn’t resist bringing up your terrible partners before Joaquin took that position. You tease back in return by making fun of how hopelessly moon eyed he’d been around Maria when you were kids. Thankfully it made him laugh instead of diminishing his smile. You hadn’t meant to bring Maria up but you’re happy that he didn’t react negatively to it. That was the only hitch and was quickly forgotten.

Manolo’s shoulders bump against your’s as he laughs or when he bobs to the flow of melody. He’s having an authentic good time. Relief blooms in your chest. Good. That was really good. 

The band playing strum their guitars with fervor and an impulsive spirit rose within you. You stand and extend your hand to Manolo, playful mischief lighting your smile. 

He lets out a soft chuckle and regards your hand. Encouraged by the music and your inviting gesture, he takes your hand, his lips curling into a reluctant but genuine smile. The two of you stumble, making your way to the center floor where others have already coupled off in small groups. Laughing about your clumsy feet, you cling to Manolo to make sure you don’t take a tumble. Manolo’s chest rumbles in his own giggling as his hands securely tighten on you. 

Your dancing is simple swaying at first as both of you try and find your groove. Two puzzle pieces finding their fit. He’s twirling you around, making you dizzy but you enjoy the lightheaded buzzing that it delivers to your head. Manolo insists you spin him as well and you do your best but he’s taller than you and he has to bend down a little bit in order for you to complete the move. You feel like children again. 

In the midst of rhythmic, drunken chaos, something extraordinary began to take shape between you that took you some time to recognize. The goofiness that was making the air silly and fun turns into something else. Manolo’s laughter, a sound as familiar to you as your own heart beat, melds seamlessly with the guitar chords in the background. His footing and turns grow surer with each passing minute as he acclimates to your pace. Distance between you shrinking as your bodies synchronized to the melody. Fingers brush against fingers and glances began to hold more weight than previously. A heaviness in his dark eyes when they land on your face. It makes your heart spasm in your chest.

You want to pin it on the alcohol flowing in your system. Maybe even the lighting in the bar that sharpened Manolo’s already exquisite face. The hitching beneath your breast as you become aware of just how close he is to you and the parting of his lips as his breathing becomes strained. And by his blown out pupils, you could only surmise that he was going through the same odd feelings you were. His Adam’s apple bobs nervously, his yearning becoming profoundly clear as he leans his face closer to your’s; drawn to you like a magnet. 

Realizing the hungry fire that ate away in your belly was attraction and want. For Manolo. Your best friend who had just broken up with the love of his life just a few days ago. 

His nose brushes against your’s. He says something, low enough that you would have been able to hear despite the loud music. Your brain is malfunctioning though. Unable to process his words.

This wasn’t right. Whatever it was.

You had too much respect for yourself to be his rebound. 

Abruptly you tear yourself away from him, horror turning that once bright fire into ash in your mouth. Music becomes white noise in your ears, you watch Manolo’s mouth move but couldn’t hear the words that he was actually saying. Slowly you back away from him. He follows you back to the table the both of you had previously sat at. Gripping the edge to stop your head from reeling further, you don’t hear Manolo come up from behind you.

“Please-”

You shake your head furiously and pivot on your feet. Too many emotions were hijacking your body. Unable to even look him in the face unless that feeling of attraction was to bloom in you once more. The buzz you’d been enjoying betrays you. 

It’s just the alcohol. You’re not really in love with him. Not after all this time. It just had to be your inebriated state. Any other reason for it, you refuse to acknowledge. If you stayed on the dance floor any longer, you would have kissed him. Or he would have kissed you. Someone would’ve initiated it. And if it were Manolo, you’d let him kiss you.

He tries to put a hand on your shoulder but his touch scalds you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t. . . I-I”

Taking a deep breath, finally you manage to meet his desperate gaze. Fear flashes vividly in them. Neither of you could even describe what had transpired as an accident. Vulnerability has your stomach curling into itself self-consciously. 

Joaquin was right all along. You and Manolo weren’t just friends. Definitely not anymore. What were you then if not friends? This would justify all of Joaquin’s accusations. going out was supposed to be for Manolo’s benefit, get his mind off of romance and relationships. Not to confuse him with these feelings that have sprout up so suddenly that it gives you whiplash.

“W... We should leave.” Your lead tongue finally moves to articulate words. Disappointment leaks from him but there nothing you could do about that. Wordlessly, the two of you leave the cantina. You don’t bother to look back and check if Manolo is following you. His soft, sad footsteps trek after you. Unlike early, the walk home is quiet. As much distance as possible is forced between you and Manolo. It just then reenters your mind that Manolo was sleeping on your couch. That had to end. Tonight though, you’d let him stay. He was in no state to be alone in his empty house. Now that would be adding cruelty. 

Inside of your home, you mumble a hasty goodnight and retreat to the safety of your room. Quietly you listen to his shuffling outside. A creak comes from the floorboards before you hear the sound of the couch as Manolo sits down.

What’s he thinking right now? Is he realizing he almost made a huge mistake in kissing you? He’s gotta be. Maybe this will make him go back to Maria to talk things out. Good. For the best. They were meant to be together. Everyone said so. Yet when you think about them going back to each other, a lump forms in the back of your throat that chokes you up. 

You wanted very much for the void to swallow you whole. Leave nothing left of you in the mortal world. You desired to go to the Land of the Forgotten and to have Xibalba tear you into pieces. 

When cruel morning light peeks in through your curtains, you pull your covers over your head. If you didn’t get up soon, you’re certain your mom will come and break down your door. Whether out of motherly concern or as your boss, you weren’t sure. But once you didn’t show up for work without a notice, she would hunt you down to the end of the earth. Drinks last night hadn’t been too bad to where you had a severe hangover, simply a dull ache that resonated at your temples. A cup of coffee will help with that. If you could gather the courage to get out of bed and face Manolo. No way you could put it off any longer. Prolonging the inevitable.

Running a hand over your face to dislodge signs of sleep, you roll off of your mattress and set about getting ready for the day. Dread is heavy in you after getting dressed, your hand hovering over your bedroom door knob. 

To your surprise, your living room is empty. The pillow and blanket Manolo had been using were neatly folded and placed atop of the sofa cushions. A folded piece of paper with your name scrawled on the front begs for your attention. Manolo became a fixture on your couch that seeing him not there makes you more uneasy than relieved. 

You can’t bring yourself to read it. Instead you tuck it into your pocket and head into your cocina to get coffee before going into work. 

The sinking feeling you’d experienced last night lingers in you. Your rambunctious little brothers, always running around, even notice how quiet you are and in turn aren’t as loud as usual. They even cast worrying glances at you when they think you’re not looking. Head down, you just worry yourself with keeping busy and numb. 

What happened last night. . . You replay every moment. Turning them over and wondering what exactly went wrong for you to so suddenly be in love with your best friend. Because now that you weren’t drunk, those feelings stayed. You overanalyze everything until you mentally exhaust yourself. 

At some point while you’re in the kitchen with your dad, the note Manolo left for you soundlessly slips out of your pocket. Papa maneuvers around you for something when he notices the slip of paper on the ground. He bends down to pick it up and stares at your name in print. He recognized that print. Seen it throughout the years change but he’d known the familiar swirls in the letters. Manolo’s writing. Papa opens it without any regard for your privacy.

His bushy eyebrows shoot up in shock at its contents and his eyes dart from the piece of paper to your shoulders as you fix together dough for the orejas. 

He makes you jump when he calls out your name. You turn and he’s holding the note with your name facing you. Gawking, your hands immediately pat down your clothes before realizing too late. “What is this?”

You knew he wouldn’t give it back to you, not until you explained it to him. Difficult when you didn’t even read it yourself. 

“What is he talking about?” Your normally stoic father was now shaking the paper in his hand. “What happened last night?”

The fever-like blush that stains your face embarrasses you. Yeah this was not a subject you wanted to broach with your dad. “Papa-”

“What is all the noise?” Mama hangs over the half-door to peer into the cocina. Papa bypasses you although you desperately make grabby hands at the note in his hand. He hands it to your mother and now she’s reading Manolo’s handwriting. She gasps, scandalized and her eyes round as she clutches the front of her apron like she was having a heart attack. 

Your brain feels like flan as your mouth makes lame attempts to explain yourself to your parents. You felt like a kid again after getting in trouble. As if you didn’t feel bad enough already. The best thing for you to do was to wait until they exhausted themselves. If you tried to talk now, they would only raise their voices.

And eventually they do run out of wind. You even wait an extra minute before explaining to them how Maria and Manolo broke up, he’d been staying with you since and that the two of you went out for some fun last night. Nothing out of the ordinary, your parents knew Manolo since he was a kid and always liked him. He was sweet, considerate with helping out around the panaderia if he was visiting even though he definitely didn’t have to. Another thing was how respectful Manolo was to your parents. They thought he was a good boy. Nothing like Joaquin. 

The note still troubles them and they bring up. “And this? What is he talking about?” Finally you snatch it from his hands to read it. 

They leave you be for a few moments as your eyes hungrily eat up Manolo’s written words:

I’m sorry. I never meant to make things awkward. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on your couch while you’re out at work. What else was there for me to do? I thought a lot about what Maria and I went through with Xibalba and La Muerte. Even before then. Everything seems to start and end at you though. When I worried about my future and what would happen, I knew you’d be there beside me as you’ve always been. And that gave me such relief. I thought I’d never feel joy again but then you suggested we go out to listen to music. You and the music woke me up to life again. I’m sorry I screwed everything up and probably hurt you. Separating from Maria was world ending, but life without you would thrust me into a completely endless void. I don’t know what any of last night meant. I understand if you’re upset with me and don’t want to see me. I hope some day soon you can forgive me and we can talk.

Manolo was always eloquent with his words. You weren’t angry with him. Not even when it happened. There were a lot of emotions swirling inside of you last night, not anger toward him though. An actual adult would have spoken to Manolo that same night to figure things out. You’d been so flustered and confused, even embarrassed and you just couldn’t face him in that moment. This couldn’t go on any longer. 

 You fold the note back up before addressing your parents. “I’m gonna step out for a little bit.” The seriousness in your tone as them quietly nodding, staring after you as you take your apron off and leave the panaderia.

You’d try his house first to see if he was there. A few places in mind to where Manolo could be. Mentally organizing them from the most possible to least. At this time of day, the streets were deserted except for a couple of vendors and stray chickens. Your work shoes, while perfect for standing hours at a time, were not exactly the best type to run in. 

The Sanchez home was quiet. Weird trying to adjust to Manolo’s great-grandmother not sitting out front while she’s knitting, her glasses nearly as big as her head. 

A few birds above twitter and swoop over the roof of the house. 

No one answers your persistent knocking. You even peek in through his windows to find not a soul in sight. Just the lonely chairs that once occupied his father and great-grandma. 

That’s when you pick out the gentle strumming of chords not too far away. You close your eyes and concentrate on the forlorn chords. They sang of the ache in Manolo’s heart. They came from the direction of the decommissioned bull fighting arena. Only a few blocks away, you start the short walk there. As you drew closer and closer, the singing of his guitar becomes stronger in force. 

Outside the arena walls, there are already a few individuals who had stopped to listen or try and peek their head inside. Instead of matador posters on the walls, there were now posters of performances that would be happening. 

The inside of your mouth is uncomfortably dry and the ramming of your heart nearly nauseates you into stopping. You had to. You loved Manolo too much to ruthlessly ignore him. That would be like ignoring the other part of you. He was ingrained in your every day life. It was weird not to talk to him.

You find Manolo alone, sitting silently in the middle of the ring. The old bull fighting arena where generations of his family had come to face off against the hoofed beast that furiously charged at them. All of that infamy ended with Manolo. He was never meant to be a killer. A lover, not a fighter. 

He’s mindlessly strumming the metal strings, face tilted up to the clear blue sky and letting the sun gift him with besos upon his cheeks. It sounded like the melody of whatever song was being played last night when you and Manolo danced together in the cantina. Only it lacked the vibrant energy. Dampened by his own mood. His only audience were a few birds that sat on the bench seats where spectators normally were. 

Sitting atop of the fence of the ring, you observe him silently. You don’t want to startle him. Plus you always loved when Manolo played guitar. He’d tried teaching you once upon a time but you lacked the patience for it. Wearing his traditional black and red traje de luces short jacket, you catch the sunlight glinting off of gold tassels. Your Manolo.

Just thinking that to yourself had you ruffled and blushing. He wasn’t your’s. You never saw him like that. Not before last night. Was that true though? There had to be other moments where your heart was struck by something you’d never felt before. You did get rosy eyed whenever you hung out in the arena while he was forced to train by Carlos. You’d do stupid little things to make him crack a smile as his father cracked down on him. You never liked seeing him despondent. Especially when the source was from Carlos Sanchez whom Manolo only wanted to be proud of him. 

As Manolo continues to play his guitar, he starts moving slowly until he’s completely turned around to face you. When he lifts his eyes to where you sat, you see him startled and nearly drop his guitar. You smile shyly. Now or never. So much was riding on this interaction with him. Your friendship dangling on the line. But as he registers you there and begins walking over to you, the courage you’d been able to nurture has shriveled up and died. This was scary. This was new.    

He’s tentative about approaching you, every movement he executed was calculated like he was coming up to a stray, scared animal. You couldn’t blame him. You’d completely ignored him the rest of last night. 

You run your tongue across your cracked lips. “Hey. . .”

His breath is shaky. “H-Hey.”

Patting the spot next to you on the fence, he carefully sets down his guitar and sits next to you; making sure he puts space between both of you. 

“I just read your note.” Slowly you kick your legs back and forth, something to release the pent up anxiety that needed an outlet. “I. . . You didn’t upset or hurt me last night. It was all just so confusing. You just broke up with the literal love of your life. I know I’m your best friend but the last thing I want to be is your rebound.”

Manolo blanches and attempts to stutter out his own exclamation but he required a moment to come up with his reply. “I never thought of you as a rebound. I’m not going to lie, everything is still confusing to me. Nothing has made sense since breaking up with Maria, but you’re a comfortable constant I can always cling to. Whatever last night meant to you, well. . .” The way he just refuses to look at you tells you more than he ever could verbally. 

“You. . . meant to kiss me?”

The tips of his ears actually BURN pink from his blush and a smile breaks across your face. “Not exaclty- well, i mean. . .” He huffs, frustrated with himself. “I figured, if it happens, it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.”

Holy shit.

Your brain hums and that not so bad nauseous feeling rises back in you again. Realizing that it wasn’t nausea. It was something entirely different.

“Meaning?”

Fiddling with his strong, callused fingers, Manolo chews on his bottom lip. Then his chocolate dark eyes land on you. That look, it screamed love and desire all bundled into one great feeling.

He goes on to tell you “You know, there was a time while Maria was gone that I hoped you would look my way and see me as someone who was more than a friend to you.”

How could that be true? He’d always loved Maria and that love had neither diminished nor left his constant thoughts. He let everyone know that. Manolo and Joaquin would get into contests about who would win Maria over. Lighthearted fights of course. There was no hitting, more like bragging. You found these debates amusing and added your own commentary. 

“You liked me?” 

Manolo chuckles and nods. “Of course I did.” Making sound like it was only obvious that he did. “I started to think that maybe Maria and I weren’t meant to be together. That maybe I would be leagues happier with you. Why do you think I followed you around like some puppy?”

You never saw it like that. You thought you were the one to always be tagging along with Manolo and Joaquin. Little Joaquin even complained loudly to Manolo that you were annoying. 

Hands that were gripping the wood of the fence post you sat on grew sweaty as the damn hummingbird in your chest was going wild. 

“I never thought of you as a rebound or second choice.” He whispers and fluidly places his large hand atop of your’s. “I just thought. . . it was meant to be when we were dancing. All signs pointing to you. I’m sorry-”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.” You airly laugh. “I told you I wasn’t mad. But, I guess it makes more sense now.”

Cautiously, Manolo asks “Did I misread any signals?”

“Absolutely not.” Now it’s you chewing at your bottom lip. “I felt bad though. How sudden it was. Even worse is that this proves Joaquin was right. And he’s never right!”

Manolo almost falls over from his laughter. “What was he right about?”

“That we were more than just friends. He never did like how much time we spent together.” How many times had you fought with your ex about it? Too many. Now you would have the egg on your face when Joaquin finds out. You didn’t want him gloating how you were wrong. And you didn’t want to hurt Maria either. You knew you wouldn’t like it very much if your ex partner got over you quickly and was in a new relationship. “Did Joaquin know about your crush when we were kids?”

Lips pressed in a thin line, Manolo nods. “Yeah. That could probably be why he thought us hanging out so much was weird.” He groans too when he realizes that he’ll be getting an earful from Joaquin once news of of this got to him. Plenty of times they had the same argument that you and Joaquin did. How both of you spent too much time together. You guys didn’t act like just friends. You were always closer. Always seated next to each other. Always laughing so loud that it annoyed your other companion. 

“You’re right that this is sudden.” He acknowledges your previous comment. “I think I need more time before we officially become a couple.”

You quirk an eyebrow up. “Oh? Who said I wanted to be with you?”

That made him pale and you knew your joke was a little too mean. You laugh and reassure him you were just kidding, his easy going smile once more on his face. 

In the meantime, you carefully angle your body so you’re closer to him and reach your hands out to cup his face. So handsome. That dumb smile on his face made you want to eat him up. He leans into your touch and before he knows it, you have your lips on his.

And that’s how the both of you went tumbling off the fence.

Manolo’s body softens your fall at least. Both of you are laughing though. “Oh dios mio Manolo are you okay?”

His chest moves up and down as he gasps out his own laughter. “Never better.” He gives you a thumbs up. 

You hover above him before taking his lips once more in a drawn-out kiss that left him breathless and starry eyed and you with fire in your blood. Hands found their way on your hips and by a force of magic, you end up straddling his waist. 

Choking on your own breath, skin underneath your clothes tingle when he runs his hands from your hips to the swell of your thighs. A simple action that left you overly sensitive and wanting for more. 

Pressing yourself flat against him, your lips devour his neck with the gentlest of nips that leaves Manolo a panting, squirming mess under you. He’s trying to say something but moans when your own hands do their own exploration. 

Restraint is needed for you to peel away from him and to stand up on wobbly legs. Manolo looks up at you with disoriented eyes. “Where are you going?” 

“Well, we very well can’t be making out in public. Not when we’re not officially a couple.” You smirk at him and wait for Manolo to get to his feet and run after you.

His house being the closest, you race him to the front door but he caught you in his arms and you let out a surprised squeal as this matador gone guitarrista hauls you into his arms. When the door clicks closed, you’re on him once again. Tongues wrestle, and clothes are discarded haphazardly. Your brain barely registers your back being pressed up against his wall or how he’s supporting the bulk of your weight with his arms. 

A blur of kisses, caresses, and moans ensue along with a glowing sheen of sweat that makes your skin tacky but you hardly mind. Not when you’re entangled with Manolo.

In his thrusts, Manolo was making you a promise that this was true. He’d give you his all. When the time came the both of you would tell the world of your love. By then you’ll be ready to face Joaquin’s scrutiny. 

At some point your bodies had made it to his bedroom but not necessarily to his bed. 

On his floor, you stare up hazily at his ceiling as your head rests atop of his arm. He’s sated and content to stay down there if it meant you could remain in his arms. Free hand swirling patterns along your bare skin. Manolo’s humming softly while you nuzzle the crook of his neck that has little love bites scattered. 

“Are you sure about this, Manolo?” This feels like a dream. But none of your’s had ever felt as real as this one. The heady delirium of sex lightened and reality was creeping back on you. Specifics would have to be ironed out to avoid hurting anyone’s feelings. Admitting that he wanted you, there was no willpower in you to stop yourself from tasting him. Common sense had fled from you in the split seconds before you kissed him. 

His prominent curly cue bobs as he shifts his head. “I am a little worried. But you’re with me, so things can’t be too bad.” Face optimistic, it smothers the negative thoughts that had been slithering around you. 

“Oh you should most definitely be worried. ‘Cuz when I get back to work, my parents will definitely know something happened. And they will know it’s you since they read your note.”

Comically, his eyes bug. “They read my note?! Why did you let them read it!” Face red, he’s mortified that your parents were aware of everything that happened. 

You laugh and clutch your stomach. “I didn’t let them! It slipped out of my pocket. Besides, I hadn’t read it yet so I didn’t know what it said. Otherwise I would have made sure not to take it with me!”

Manolo truly looks concerned for his life. “Your mama is gonna kill me. I saw what she did to Joaquin!”

Ah yes, she’d broken her wooden spoon on top of his head. She would have done a lot more were it not for your dad and Manolo restraining her.

“Just make sure to duck and you’ll be fine.”

[fawnsflowerbed]

pspsps.. la muerte!reader x xibalba!leon..

drink water & take breaks pookie.. :p

- 🧠

HEHEHEHHEEHEEEEEE

The way it’s SO them like UGHHHH!!!

He’s enraptured by you, you’re quite literally the light of his life. You’re so sweet, gentle, your love and adoration for mortals is something to behold.

Sure he’s an absolute sleazebag from time to time, but what’s immortality without a little fun, right? He’s a meddler, a trickster, but oh how he loves you. He caves completely and utterly for you and only you, you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. Even as he pleads and begs for you to wager with him, soon enough he’s caving. Because he knows you deserve better even if you refuse.

Also I will my love thank you xx

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER THREE

HATARAT

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, adventure, sci-fi, cosmology.

Chapter warning&tags : ooc, mentions of blood, pus, arthropods and food; profanity, suggestive themes

Words count: ~12.5k

⊲ previous next ⊳

An unpleasant feeling pressed shamefully on your chest. You sat in your workroom replaying in your head the events that had happened a few minutes ago hiding your face in the palms of your hands. That weight was driven deeper beneath your ribs by a pair of green eyes across the room staring fixedly at you as if wanting to leave a burnt mark on your skin.

"If I'm understanding ya correctly," Rachel began saying squinting her eyes. "The first time in your life guy took your hand and the first thing ya did was put a dagger to his throat?"

"Technically, he didn't take my hand, he grabbed it," you tried to parry pulling your hands away from your face and glancing at Rachel. She only raised her eyebrows skeptically at your words causing you to grimaced your face and burrow back into your palms. "God," you squeaked into the skin of your hands.

"Come on, sis," Rachel leaned back in her chair and laughed. "I think our dad has long since resigned himself to the fact that ya're going to die a spinster."

"Don't bring Frank into this, it's none of his business," you mumbled sighing heavily. "In fact, don't tell him about it at all."

"Oh, come on," Rachel said cheering you up. "Ya know he says sensible things sometimes. The peace of mind and safety of mankind is a good thing, but ya shouldn't forget personal happiness."

"Since when does this 'personal happiness' consist of just marrying me off?" you muttered with skepticism in your voice.

"Who said anything about getting married, dumbass," Rachel moved toward you only to flick her long burgundy fingernails across your forehead. "Let's start by saying that it's easier to deal with adversity with 'your' man and it's less sad to die alone," the red-haired girl said with a soft sadness in her voice, her shoulders slumping a little as if nostalgia was smothering them from behind.

"Rach-" noticing her faded look, you started in an apologetic tone, but Rachel shaking her head from side to side, immediately interrupted you.

"Forget it, it wasn't your fault," she grinned, her green eyes brightening again and she immediately changed the subject. "There's no way in hell I'm going to believe you're running around with that white-haired guy just because..." Rachel stammered hesitating. "By the way, why are you running around with him in the first place?"

"His kids asked me to," you said without a shred of shame in your voice shrugging your shoulders.

"Oh, yeah," Rachel drawled squinting her eyes slyly. "Right. Kids. Well, since ya're not interested in him, I'm keeping him," you only nodded toward the door from the workroom at her provocation as if to signal 'go ahead'. "What kind of nerd have you grown into!" The girl was immediately in your face, your cheeks clutched in her hands.

"Raphel-"

"You expect me to believe that you went to Xibalba¹ just because the kids asked you to?" she asked clearly not expecting your answer. "Sure, you could chalk it up to the fact that your ass just can't sit still, but you know, sis," she squeezed your cheeks a little tighter. "Something you're obviously not telling me, because your face is getting a little too warm!" she exclaimed laughing.

"That's because there's nothing to squeeze it that hard!" you squeaked trying haphazardly to get her hands off your face.

***

[19 Nov, 2018; 07:02am; hunters' headquarters]

You had already drained three water bottles in the morning; your body was exhausted from the endless flow of information and lack of sleep. Your reddened eyes darted randomly from the screens of monitors to the pages of old dusty books, your gaze occasionally freezing on the cube that was among all this information mess on the table in your workroom. You felt a growing irritation inside, either from the endless search or from the coming powerlessness. Your gaze turned less and less often to the cube as if you were ashamed to look into the eyes that flaunted it and, damn it, how you wanted to exclaim that he should stop looking at it that way and that it was not easy for you either. The internal war of fatigue with stubbornness was interrupted by the click of the door and you turned around muttering something to yourself. Kyle.

"No, I'm not tired, I'm not hungry, and I'm still not gone insane," you mouthed in a monotone voice, and barely did you blot the exhaustion from your eyes when you noticed he wasn't alone.

"What ya doing?" inquired Kyle, looking at your desk.

"Recording an unboxing on YouTube, what does it look like?" you sneered, not expecting an answer to the question you asked. "Why did ya bring the kids here?"

"I had nothing to do with it," Kyle said raised both hands in mock defeat. Several pairs of young eyes stared back at you from over the man's shoulder, a naive flame of undiminished enthusiasm burning in them.

"We wanna help," Itadori said taking a few steps in your direction.

"I don't get it," you stammered wrapping your index finger and thumb around your chin and giving the kids a perplexed look. "You have air-conditioned rooms here with great sea views, unlimited access to food and gaming pc with Netflix subscriptions and you're still wanna to swashbuckle," your gaze lingered on the guys for a couple more seconds and then with a splash of your hands you jumped up from your seat and started dragging all the available chairs closer to your table. "Well, since you're so eager to help, welcome."

"What do we have to do?" inquired Maki.

"Here," you tossed a huge pile of books mixed with old scrolls in front of their noses, the dust rising into the air making Itadori cough. "Look for and mark any mention of sealing, closing, moving, anything square and small and anything that consisted of or is made up of human skin."

"Marking?" asked Itadori in bewilderment, looking at the ancient waste paper. "How can you do that? You opened your mouth as if to say something, but closed it and exhaled through your nose before grabbing the nearest pink marker and drawing random patterns on the page of one of the books.

"See? Nothing happened," you said with a shrug and tossed the marker aside. "No one died or got sick. Now get to work," you prodded them rubbing the top of their heads and turned to Kyle quietly, "Our house is starting to look more and more like a kindergarten."

"And the zoo, too," Kyle grinned glancing at Panda. You grinned back and settled back into your seat once again bending your head over the riddle. You could feel the excitement building in the room as if ancient magic had challenged the human mind. The workroom became increasingly filled with the sounds of rustling sheets and quiet conversations. The eyes of the kids were vigorously following the written lines trying to get something useful out of them, one could hear the squeak of markers and someone's methodical clicking of fingers.

As the clock ticked, someone would put away their markers, knead their hands or feet, someone would wipe their eyes with the palms of their hands and reach for a bottle of cool water, but the mountain of already re-read materials would inevitably grow behind your backs. The conversations had already died down, only measured breathing was heard and you looked around at the kids and stood up from the table heading for your personal small refrigerator. You opened it and appraised the contents with a glance, mentally figuring out if there was enough for everyone or if you'd have to spend the energy to go upstairs for more. Your hands grabbed a few chicken sandwiches and popped them into the microwave and while they were getting appetizing you pulled a few small boxes of strawberry mochi out of the fridge. When everything was ready, you scooped it all up and returned to the table arranging the loot in front of the kids. At the quiet but enthusiastic cheers, you unconsciously affectionately patted one of them on the top of the head glancing at your phone screen hoping to see messages from Megan, who was scouring the Internet for something useful among the pile of junk. Nothing. You wanted to curse under your breath, but you shuddered remembering you weren't alone in the room and settled back in your chair.

It was getting evening outside the window and you looked at the tired faces in the room." That's it, kids, rest up. First go to the canteen for dinner, and then do your own thing," no one objected to your remark because of fatigue. The students stood up and quietly said goodbye to you and walked out of the workroom. "You know what pisses me off the most?" you turned to Kyle, who turned his crumpled face to you. "Monks and Buddhists and whoever else sits in those monasteries never keep information about anything in an informational form. And I don't relish the thought of bouncing around shrines somewhere in the mountains of Tibet looking for scrolls made of papyrus and cow shit," you muttered and hid your face in your palms, Kyle only hummed tiredly. "How am I supposed to get it out of this fucking box!"

"God only knows," Kyle said shrugging.

Your eyes widened and you pulled your hands away from your face, your head snapping up sharply. "God, ya're a genius!" you exclaimed loudly and immediately jump up from your seat. You ran over to the closet and began throwing the contents aside in search of your backpack.

"Where do you think ya're going?" Kyle asked disapprovingly getting up from his chair. You glanced at the bottom shelves of the closet, then ran to the bed and leaned over to see what was underneath. You finally found your hiking backpack underneath and without slowing down you sprinted over to the table and grabbed the cube, then headed for the exit grasping your jacket in the process. "Hey!" shouted Kyle.

You holding the handle of the already open door, finally looked up at him. "An audience with God!" you said and with a final wave of your hand to him, you slammed the door on your way out.

***

Once you were on the other side of the door to your workroom, you quickly realized in your head that there was neither time nor inclination to waste energy on the long journey. You closed your eyes and mentally pictured an office whose windows were perpetually draped with dark gray curtains, with a laptop invariably on a graphite smooth desk, a mesh pen stand, a crystal decanter with an amber-colored liquid and a pair of shiny clean glasses beside it, all framed by a pile of folders and tax documents. Behind the desk was a black office chair that looked simple and unassuming, but a single glance at the materials it was made of made it clear that it was expensive. On the walls hung graphite shelves in the tone of the desk, on which stood various books, bling, and a few live plants. The whole picture was completed by a cozy and suddenly bright couch with soft cushions. You opened your eyes and before you stood the same picture that had just been in your imagination. There was no one in the office. You walked around the desk and sat down in the chair grabbing a tiny sculpture of an Art Nouveau woman from the shelf. Your fingers slid along the curves of the sculpture and you marveled at every carefully made crease in her veil, every dimple in her skin, as if the sculptor had subdued the stone and made it as docile as clay. The distinct sharp sounds of heels on parquet were heard in the hallway, growing louder and louder. As soon as it stopped just before the door, someone turned the key and pulling the doorknob and entered the office.

"Laitta! Long time no see!" you exclaimed cordially as soon as someone turned on the light.

"WAIT!" you shrieked as she leaned over the table, her face a few inches from yours, her hand clutching your chin in anger. "It's evening; let's not force things because not everyone has left the building. We don't want anyone to get hurt, do we?" You rambled quickly making innocent eyes. The goddess hesitated for a second, but immediately released you resting your head back in the chair.

"Stand up," she commanded icily, and you obeyed.

"Okay, okay, why are ya being so prickly," you walked around the table and Laitta sat down in her chair, opened up her laptop and started doing her busy work without paying any attention to you. "Laitta," you addressed her, resting your hands on the table. There was no response. "La-a-a-aitta," you tried again deliberately drawling your vowels. Nothing again. "Laitta!" you leaned over her and shouted right in her face.

"WHAT!" she barked losing all her patience.

"I need your help," you grinned clearly pleased with your result.

"First return what you stole," she leaned back in her chair crossing her arms over her chest. "Then maybe I'll help you."

"Aren't you a little petty for a Goddess?"

"Petty!" Laitta bellowed in your direction. "You stole an item capable of moving something into the past of something with the planet's position at that time intact! Is the Atlas just another piece of bling for you?"

"What difference does it make?" you asked in bewilderment shrugging your shoulders. "You as a user of Atlas can't employ that ability of it anyway."

"I wasn't going to use it, but I need its side effect!" she exclaimed. "Look what's become of me in these few years without it," she pointed to her face. The once young, statuesque lady had turned into an older, but still statuesque woman in just a couple years. Her dark curls had turned gray, her thin graceful hands were covered in wrinkles and fine cracks, as was her face. "Still, no one, no one can use it but me. Give it back," the rage in her voice changed to a plea.

"I knew you'd beg," you sighed pulling something out of your backpack. You placed on the table an object of silver or platinum that looked a lot like a compass, except there were many times more directions on it and the circumference of that compass was clutched by an Ouroboros ¹.  Laitta grabbed the Atlas and headed for the restroom in her office, and you sat down on her desk with your eyebrows raised wondering how important it was to her. A couple minutes later a young girl appeared in the office, her black hair glistening in the artificial light of the lamp; her skin, visible from under her clothes, became thin and velvety; her dark eyes having regained their youthfulness, gained luster. "Ya know, age was good for you," you sounded a little disappointed.

"Shut up," Laitta said smiling. She was clearly pleased with her new youth and her uplifted spirits seemed to wipe away any previous rage.

"My turn," you said, clapping your hands and hopping off the table and reached into your backpack again. You took out a light cube and put it on the table.

"What is this abomination?" asked Laitta taking a second to hardly tear her gaze away from the small mirror she held in her hand and examine herself going over her curls now and then.

"There's kind of a person in there," you said with doubt in your voice because you still didn't believe that was possible. "I wish I could get him out of there."

"Is it sealed or something?" asked Laitta finally transferring her eyes from the mirror to the cube examining it. "Nah, sorry. Can't help it," she said wrinkling her nose and returning to her beauty.

"Fine," you hissed in her direction maintaining a friendly smile. "Just don't whine later when your face starts getting wrinkles and Atlas disappears again."

 "Wait," she said in a low voice watching as you already stuffed the cube into your backpack and headed for the exit. "There is one option, but I can't make any guarantees." You turned around and raised your eyebrows, signaling her to continue. "There is one place, and according to ancient rumors it could destroy any seal that was imposed. A place called Hatarat."

"And it is located..?"

"Xibalba," Laitta said looking you dead in the eyes.

"Couldn't have worked out better," you mumbled rubbing your forehead with your fingers. You weighed in your head the facts that you hadn't been able to find a shred of information in the past ten days, hadn't moved forward with your search, had a little less than nothing on your hands and decided that maybe this gamble was worth it. "So how do I get into this underworld?"

"There's more to it than that," Laitta said with a shake of her head. "For mortals still alive, the gates only open in a parade of planets. A full parade of planets."

"Incredible," you said raising your eyebrows and looking at your hand as if there was a watch on it. "The only thing left to wait for is... How long is it? 143 years?"

"You won't have to wait," the Goddess said glancing at Atlas. "I can't move myself back in time, but I can't move the rest of the people," Laitta thought rubbing her chin with her graceful fingers. Noticing your concerned look and as if reading your thoughts, she added: "Don't worry, your little hooman in the cube won't be affected by the rules of the creation. It is done without his knowledge or consent. But you," she pointed her index finger at you drilling you with her gaze. "Don't look at anyone. Don't talk to anyone. I doubt there will be any other crazies like you in that place, but don't get into anyone's memories.

"I know the rules," you said with a shake of your head.

"I hope you're ready," said Laitta holding out her hand to Atlas. "You as a fragile living matter are more likely to be torn to shreds, though."

"And what are the odds of that?"

"Ninety-ten," chirped Laitta smiling sweetly.

"Ya could have kept your mouth shut," you said rolling your eyes.

"One more thing," Laitta said rotating the Atlas's case, with each section it made a distinctive clicking sound. "You'll have exactly twenty-four hours to return to your original location, or you'll stay there forever. You need to time yourself as soon as you get there."

"Wait," you stopped her frowning your eyebrows. "Are you telling me that if I unsealed him and he and I don't make it to the original location, we'll have to spend the rest of our lives chilling in the eighties?"

"What are you, an idiot? Are you listening to what I'm even talking about?" Laitta tried to suppress you with a look. "Moving you to the past is only necessary for you to enter the gate, Xibalba itself has nothing to do with time at all, it simply doesn't exist there and you will be the only entity that has it. I told you that this is done without the knowledge and consent of the person inside the cube, he is still bound to the present moment, whether you want it or not, so after the unsealing he will be here. Not specifically in my office of course, I honestly have no idea where exactly he will deploy. The fact is, once the cube is opened you'll be alone in there. But you, stupid creature, have given your consent, so kindly return to your original location within the allotted time frame or stay dancing to Van Halen ³.

"Okay, spin your compass already," you waved her off slinging the straps of your backpack over your shoulders.

"If you make it, I'll see you back here in a second," Laitta summarized, spinning Atlas faster and faster. "And if your body still can't handle moving, I'll be scrubbing your bloody dust off the walls."

***

[3 Mar, 1982; 12:01am; Central America, somewhere in the forests of Guatemala]

Bloody hands. The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was your bloody hands. The skin was torn in places like an old lightweight dress. You rolled up the sleeves of your irretrievably ruined sweatshirt, and reached into your backpack in search of bandages and if you were lucky, alcohol. You pulled out what you needed and clamping the fabric of the torn off sweater sleeve between your teeth, you began carelessly dousing the fresh wounds. Your hiss merged with the hiss of your skin. You spit the cloth out angrily and began bandaging your hands starting at the wrists and working your way up to your shoulders praying that there was enough white material to cover everything. As soon as the procedure was finished, you looked up and realized you were somewhere in the heart of the subtropical rainforest. In the darkness of the night, each individual twig teased you illusorily depicting living creatures to which your imagination ascribed malevolent motives. Every sound created in this place seemed to be clearer and closer than it really was. You shook your head dumping such thoughts away from your mind and moved forward across the untrodden terrain ignoring the pain in your hands.

"The deeper into the wood ya go," you muttered to yourself treading through thickets of plants and tree roots setting your phone's timer for twenty-four hours and breaking branches of bushes and trees to give yourself clues to return. You could figure out where you were, but you couldn't imagine which way to go because Laitta hadn't said a word about it. Suddenly, for some unknown reason you froze in place turning your head from side to side and staring at the darkness of the forest. The emptiness of the forest to be more precise, because you couldn't even hear the rare sounds of animals or insects anymore. The hair on the back of your neck stirred and the ground fell out from beneath your feet. Literally. The ground sprinkled like crumbs leaving a huge hollow space as if out of nowhere forming a cliff.

"Oh, shit!" you shrieked grabbing at the bare, decrepit roots of the tree, your hands responding with a sharp pain that you didn't pay attention to. You hung like that for a few minutes wondering if this was the 'gate' that Laitta had told you about. After a few more seconds, you let go of your arms and flew downward more out of excitement than fatigue.

Your body didn't feel the pain of hitting the rocky floor, but you couldn't say you'd fallen into soft cotton candy. You rose to your feet and shook yourself off, then pulled your phone out of your pocket to check the time remaining; nine hours and twenty-two minutes. What?

"It's not good to steal time," you said to someone trying to make out your surroundings. Suddenly the torches were lit illuminating the dilapidated, dark walls, water dripping down to the floor filling the room with its gurgling sound. When you turned around, you saw a narrow passage into an unlit corridor.

You walked over to one of the torches hanging on the wall and pulled it from the torchere with some force. "I'm going to need this," and then you headed straight for the hallway.

All you could hear was the sound of your footsteps and the crackling of the flames. Unfortunately for you, you felt something crawling on your skin around your waist; you quickly slipped your hand under your sweatshirt and pulled it out sharply. "Ew," you squeaked with disgust in your voice, wrinkling your nose, and when you saw that you were holding a scorpion, you shoved it away from you.

Your gaze returned to the straight road; the space of the corridor had widened considerably, flanked by horribly detailed huge sculptures of scorpions that went further into the emptiness of the corridor, which seemed to have no end. "Ya're not coming alive, are you?" you said letting out a nervous chuckle. You walked forward slowly and once you were between the two statues, you aimed the firelight at one of them; your gaze lingered on the huge stinger, you swallowed nervously and continued on your way trying not to look back. Something ran down the back of your neck and your hand automatically flicked the arthropod away from you. It was as if the corridor behind you had begun to make unpleasant, subtle noises.

As you advanced, the noise grew inexorably as if a thousand tiny jackhammers were pounding behind you. The scorpions on your body became more frequent and you realizing that the noise behind you was coming from the approaching stomping of tiny limbs rushed forward without looking back. Suddenly a sharp pain pierced your side and you pulled out a small wooden stake; the end of it was soaked with your blood mixed with something else. Glancing at the wall, you saw that there was a small hole through each statue. All you could do was curse to yourself and toss the wood aside continuing to run. Your breath hitched, your eyes became hazy, your fingertips began to go numb and before you could react, you crashed into a wall that had appeared out of nowhere.

The stomping stopped. It was unclear whether the pursuit had stopped or whether you couldn't hear anything because of the ringing in your ears. Your body was lying on the damp surface and a strange force was trying to open your eyes. Your chest ached because you felt you were missing something important. Time.

Your eyes snapped open and you jumped up. Your head was still buzzing and you looked around carefully trying to keep your balance. Even though the torch was lost, you realized that this was a completely different room. Water was running down the walls echoing in the dark room. You took a couple of cautious steps forward, then something crunched under your feet; someone's remains estimated to be about a few hundred years old looked damp as if they were still decomposing. You stepped over the corpse carefully noting that your footsteps were becoming visceral.

Your eyes had almost adjusted to the darkness; there was nothing here but four walls that was deformed in places, a few corpses, a foul odor and a single double door that looked so impregnable at first glance that it was much easier to give up and go back. The trickling of the water increased. You ran your hand along the walls near the door - nothing. As your fingers formed the familiar triangle pointing downward, an inner voice said.

      "Relocate."

 Nothing happened, but you weren't surprised: in places like this, the 'lords' make sure that no magic is used in their territories. You took a step away from the door to try to get a better look at what was around it, making a bubbling sound; you lowered your head and saw that you were standing ankle-deep - no, not in water - in a thick, dark maroon liquid.

All the while the room was filling up with blood and doing so faster and faster as time went on. As you swallowed the nausea, you looked around trying to see where the fluid was coming from. You couldn't see the mechanisms, but you could see a lever that was just below the high ceiling. There were only two options: either try to get there on your own or wait until the room was completely flooded, which seemed easier. The problem was that if the doors opened inward, the pressure in sealed room would keep them closed forever or until the room was empty again.

The blood was up to your knees. You carefully shuffling your feet through the thick of it, came to the wall where the lever was located. It was absolutely smooth, but the adjacent wall was half-destroyed and had some defects and small protrusions. Climbing up this wall to the ceiling was easy except that you turned around when you were under the ceiling. There was about couple feets between you and the lever. It's unclear what kind of hope made you reach for the lever with such force that in an instant something crunched in your shoulder; you clenched your teeth and brought your hand back to the ledge grasping it. Your fingers, wet with sweat and blood, began to slip.

"Fuck it," you shrieked quietly and gathering more air into your chest and turning your body toward the lever, you pushed your legs off the wall with force. Your hands gripped the lever awkwardly and you slipped and grabbed it erratically pulling it down toward you; as soon as it gave way with a terrible creak, you slipped and fell straight into the bloody mess.

The room emptied again after only a few seconds, but immediately filled again with your gasping coughs and spit. You tried desperately to wipe your eyes, but it seemed to make them even dirtier. After a few failed attempts you still managed to see something, and you began to slowly rise to your feet, peering through the door. "Got the joke," you drawled words grudgingly examining the sashes, which were open not to the inside of the room, but to the outside. "Funny."

You waddled toward the door holding the side of your body where the poisoned stake had been stuck earlier. The sight before your eyes took your breath away. An incredibly beautiful huge cave, the walls of which shimmered with numerous violet lights as if someone had put a spotlight on them. Giant stalactites were hanging from the vaults of the cave, which you couldn't even see; you standing on the cliff could also see the tips of the same huge stalagmites except for which you couldn't see anything. The violet sparks of the cave circled around you flying up and down as if beckoning you to go somewhere; as if bewitched, you wandered after them.

Someone shoved you in the back forcing you to come to your senses; you turned around sharply, but there was no one around, not even the purple lights and you were alone in the darkness for the umpteenth time. You stood in the middle of the stone nondescript bridge and a feeling of confusion and loneliness slowly began to fill your chest. You looked around like a small child at a crossroads trying to figure out which way to go. When you couldn't figure it out you sighed and sat down on the edge of the bridge, your feet wiggling nonchalantly.

"I take it the river of scorpions and the river of blood have already been," you addressed someone in the void. "What's next on the entertainment program?" there was a rocky cracking sound after your line, the bridge sagging. The realization struck you with a lightning bolt as if conducting a current through your body, but there was no strength left even to run; your hand gripped your inflamed side harder and you collapsed down along with the splintered structure.

The sensation of something soft and pleasant spread through your limbs. It felt weightless. You still hadn't lost consciousness, though you were close to it. Your body was sinking into something again, but it was clearly no longer blood, much less water, trying to push you to the surface; it was something much, much thicker. You'd lost your coordination in the fall and there was no way to tell which way to swim and your eyes couldn't see anything either. Quickly extinguishing your incipient panic, you began to move slowly your arms from side to side, up and down trying to catch the flow of air. After a few minutes, the oxygen in your lungs began to run out and you desperately moved to the random side doing the same manipulations with your hands. Finally, your fingertips began to blow and you raked your hands in that direction with force. As you surfaced, gulping in air mixing with that was dripping from your face, you grabbed onto something at random hastily climbing up there. Once you were on some surface, you finally lost consciousness.

      "Get up."

You feeling a long-forgotten sense of unease began to mumble something indistinctly, your hands clutching yourself tighter in your arms.

      "I SAID GET THE FUCK UP!"

You jumped up sharply grabbing your stomach with a hand that felt like it had been kicked. Realizing you were alone and he couldn't be here, you moved your hand to your chest trying to calm your racing heart. After a couple of deep inhales and exhales, you finally came fully to your senses; your gaze fell on the spot you had floated out of. A whitish liquid was spreading across the bottom of the cave changing from a dull yellow to a dark green in places. Pus.

Fully regained consciousness you grabbed your back trying to make sure that your backpack was still there; when you found it, you took off the straps and putting the backpack on your lap and undid the lock, some dire need made you check if the cube was still there. It was lying carelessly among a pile of junk, scraps of some papers, alcohol, and even a climbing rope. "Ya know, I'm expecting at least an invitation to dinner after this," you muttered and pulled out your head from backpack before tucking it behind your back and slinging it back over your shoulders, hitching the extra straps around your waist. You noticed that the bandages on your arms had turned into ragged dirty rags and threw them off. Dark energy was already splicing your wounds with thin black lines that looked like nasty worms. 

"Bestie, I hope you keep me safe from blood poisoning too because I've got it with one hundred percent probability," you addressed the dark energy as if it were alive and after standing still for a couple more seconds, you moved forward.

The next environment was something like a huge unlit hall and unlike the previous places, the floor and walls were decorated with shimmering black tiles with silver joints, and around the perimeter of the room stood what looked like animated statues of owls with burning eyes and outstretched wings. Messengers of the lords. In the middle of one of the walls there was a huge gate, whose flaps rounded sharply towards the top forming a sharp long peak. Almost the entire door was decorated with an angular but systematic ornament that was illuminated in red. Barely had the annoying thought of how to open them popped into your head as the gate leafs began to slowly open. "I don't need a lot of begging," you said heading straight for the gate.

Once you passed through it, you stepped onto a road lined with a cool blue mist that blocked all vision. Unlike the other rooms you had passed, there was no sound here, the feeling of absolute vacuum beginning to weigh on your mind. Ignoring the loss of one of your senses, you stubbornly continued on your way. Your eyes still saw everything, and everything was clear; the fog began to swirl ahead as if enveloping someone in its weightless embrace. A familiar silhouette appeared and you caught a glimpse of blue-black hair as you came closer.

"Kyle?" you asked in confusion, unable to hear your own voice. He turned around and looked at you, immediately flashed back into the mist. In absolute silence a deep, low and yet humiliating laugh began to rise from the bowels of the underworld. Remembering the lords' passion for creating artificial scarecrows to humiliate travelers who mistakenly greeted them, you could only roll your eyes.

You finally emerged from the fog and found yourself on a vortex of four roads, each of which was saying something in unintelligible whispers, but all your attention was taken by a dilapidated low pedestal that stood between two of these roads. You tsked at one of the paths whose whispers seemed the loudest and walked towards the pedestal. Once up on it, you were faced with a huge circular platform, the circumference of which was marked with diametrically opposed small gilded circles, one of which had a narrow, thin hole in it, just the same shape of your dagger's blade that was already in your hand. "Need a twist?" you thought to yourself leaning closer to the gold circle, trying to insert the dagger into the hole, but it wouldn't budge as if it had been drawn. You wrinkled your nose in bewilderment shaking the remaining dirt and dust off the circle with your hand, but it wouldn't come off. "Reflection?" you asked yourself suddenly, and lifted your head up.

Your body thudded against the surface that was supposed to be the ceiling and you hit your head hard against the floor. The room turned upside down. Your nerve endings were no longer paying attention to the countless bruises, your mind was already at home taking a warm bath and eating a delicious dinner, perhaps even at the same time; something told you that there were only a couple of steps to go.

You looked again at the large circular platform and saw that there were now numerous straight lines connected to each other inside it; the dagger was now easily inserted into the opening of the small circle, but no matter which way you turned it, nothing happened. "They could have at least included instructions," you thought indignantly looking around the pedestal for any symbols. Nothing.

The lords of Xibalba, though fearsome, were very predictable creatures. All lords wanted sacrifices, and the masters of this place took gold or blood as the myths would have it. Since you hadn't brought any jewelry with you, there was only the second option.

      Slash!  

You swung the dagger sharply across your palm and directed the flowing stream straight into the hole. The red liquid filled the lines as mesmerizingly beautiful as a falling domino would be stacked. As soon as the end of the broken lines joined the beginning, the platform flashed red and went out, immediately moving aside with a deafening screech; you were back on the edge of another precipice. Isn't this the Hatarat?

The first loud click sounded, the first step leading downward appeared. The next step immediately followed with identical sounds; the rhythmic clicks that were created seemed to count down the time to something inevitable. You obediently stepped off the first step plunging into darkness.

This time you could see nothing, absolutely nothing. You were standing on a tiny and looked like moonlit piece of land. As soon as you tried to step beyond the light, someone pushed you back. You tried again, with the same result. "One," someone's murmuring voice exploded and spilled the same recent laughter in your ears and you shuddered unseen.

"What do you mean by 'one'?" you shouted in indignation. "I'm fucking alone here!" barely had you finished speaking as you quickly slurred and it came to you. You threw off your backpack and began rummaging through it looking for the cube. When you pulled it out and brought it closer to your face, you gasped in surprise: all of its facets were glowing red; you spun around in disbelief at your surroundings. "See ya, boxy," you said, smiling. "I hope it won't kill you," after which you threw the cube with force somewhere into the darkness.

The ground beneath your feet shook so violently that you fell on your back out of balance. Your body was covered with stone chips. The faint light that had illuminated you earlier went out and you were left in a darkness that your eyes could not adapt to. Praying mentally that everything had worked and you hadn't accidentally destroyed the artifact along with the person inside it, you gathered your will into a fist once again and was determined to find a way out of this cloaca.

***

After a dozen bruises, a couple of fights, and hundreds of swear words, you were standing in Laitta's office again. You'd been here just a second ago for her and she was still clutching the Atlas, but her eyes were deep in the laptop screen. Unable to say a word, you just stood there, waiting to be noticed.

"Look, the news is reporting a four-point earthquake somewhere off the east coast of Japan, supposedly a tectonic plate shift. Your doing?" she asked you sliding her eyes over the lines then shifting her gaze to you. "Ew, you look like shit."

"Screw ya," you mumbled examining your body, which was covered in dried blood and congealed pus, your clothes were torn in places and your tangled hair added to your charm.

***

You and Rachel were already lying on the workshop floor; she was on top of you pinching your skin randomly in different places not letting you move. You laughed at the ticklish sensations and cried out when Rachel put too much pressure on you. You both didn't hear the door click open because of all the fun chaos.

"Are my girls fighting again?" a low baritone crept into the workroom. You and Rachel raised your heads at the same time looking at the intruder. A portly man of advanced age, whose eyes always seemed narrow because of his cordial smile stood in the workroom doorway watching you, his eyes full of paternal love. His long gray hair was gathered in a low ponytail, his not-young face was adorned with stubble in the color of his hair. Kyle was next to him, too. You and Rachel looked at each other sharply and realizing from your angry look that questioned if she was the one who called him here, Rachel shook her head in panic. "Hey, Dad!" Rachel jumped up first and ran in his direction. "We were just talking about you!"

"Kind words, I hope?" the man asked enclosing Rachel, Kyle and the approaching you in a hug.

"I'm gonna fucking die," hissed Rachel, who had the misfortune to find herself in the middle of a bear hug.

"Here they are, my loved offspring," the man chuckled kissing each of you on the top of your head.

"Hi, Frank," you said detachedly as if resigned to your fate.

"Dad, back off, we're not little kids anymore," Kyle muttered breaking out of his embrace. "I'm going to bed."

"Raised a rude boy," Frank stretched out with a smile on his face as he watched Kyle walk up the metal stairs, then let you and Rachel go. "And I have exactly two gifts for you."

"Mommy!" squeaked someone's childish voice, and from behind Frank's broad back something redheaded and small came rushing toward Rachel nearly knocking her to the ground.

"Mike, honey!" Rachel exclaimed picking the boy up and wrapping her arms around him burying herself in his baby soft hair. You mentally noted how pleased you were that her attention had shifted from you to him.

"So, what's the second gift?" you turned to Frank with growing displeasure in your voice realizing who else he'd brought.

"Hey, Y/N-ie," a quiet voice greeted you. Hidden behind the man's broad back was also a little girl in a blue dress, and she was covered in freckles from top to bottom, her small hands shyly clutching a sheet folded in half to her chest.

"Hey, my little bun," you greeted her softly in return gently picking her up in your arms and carrying her towards the bed that Rachel and Mike were settled on. "Tris, give me and Grandpa Frank two minutes and I'll be sure to look at what you brought, 'kay?

"Okay," Tris nodded her head clutching the sheet to her chest even tighter. Setting her down on the bed, you headed towards Frank and jerked him into the bathroom forcefully but still quietly slamming the door behind you.

You gave the gray-haired man a fierce look. "Frank, what the hell are you doing here? What are you bringing the kids here for?" you hissed at him trying to keep your voice steady.

"Are ya gonna burst or something if ya ever call me dad?" Frank looked down at you crossing his arms over his chest.

"Don't ya dare change the subject!"

"Look, ya didn't even come to Hopetown for Christmas," Frank said shrugging, disappointment flashing across his face for a second and a needle of guilt stabbing into your chest. "So I decided to bring Mike and Tris to you at least, if only for a little while."

"Frank, I'm sorry, I really am. But you know it's very dangerous out here," you ran your hands through your hair and put your arms around your shoulders as if trying to reassure yourself.

Big hands gently touched your cheeks and you looked up at Frank, your eyes widening with worry. "Have you forgotten who your father is? I can give you all a head start still," and at the same time he pulled you against his chest, and you nuzzled your nose into it letting out a relieved exhale.

You would have been happy to pamper your soul further while you were stroked through your hair like a little girl, spitting and forgetting about all the misfortunes, but the sense of responsibility nurtured from childhood made you pull away and retreat a couple steps. "Ya take the kids tomorrow and you're going back to Hopetown," with that said you left the bathroom.

When you went back into the workroom, Rachel shushed you, even though you didn't make a sound. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, but when you saw Mike and Tris laid comfortably on your bed you nodded understandingly. Such a long ride to your place could take a lot out of even the naughtiest of children. You glanced at Frank and Rachel gesturing for them to go to sleep and after they had quietly left the room, you moved closer to the bed. As you adjusted the blanket and wrapped the little bodies tighter, your gaze fell on the bedside table; the same folded sheet laid on it that Tris had been carefully cradling. You sat down beside the bed and unfolded it carefully, and before your eyes was something blotchy and bright, made up of all sorts of shades of blue and purple with dull yellow incongruous stars sprinkled all over it. "So much for the cosmos," the warmth spilling into your chest came out of your mouth with a soft, quiet laugh that you tried to extinguish with your head tucked into the sheet.

The next afternoon as the sun was setting, you walked down the hallway toward the kitchen trying to hold on to the pile of paper bags that contained the groceries mixed with some medications you had just bought. Finally dumping it all on the dining room table, you opened the refrigerator and started filling the emptied contents grabbing Mike who was crawling from the kitchen unit to the refrigerator and putting him back on the floor; once the groceries were spread out on the shelves of the refrigerator, you opened the top drawer to put the medications in there, while changing the coffee cup someone had left in front of Tris' nose, which she was already reaching for with her little hands, for orange juice. "Keep an eye on them," you said to Frank grabbing the only unopened paper bag.

You grinned softly as you watched your students and older hunters pair up with students from the Tokyo magical college, probably having just finished eating dinner in the canteen walked out of the left door of the living room. Stepping onto the threshold of the living room and gathering all your courage into a fist, you headed towards the right door that led to the infirmary.

Your quiet footsteps were all that could be heard in the lighted corridor of the infirmary and with each step you took as you approached the room where Megumi and the white-haired sorcerer were lying your confident gait became slower and more awkward. There was no point in delaying the inevitable, so you stopped at the wall right next to the open door and drew in more air clutching the paper bag tighter to your chest.

Just as you wanted to step out from around the corner, you heard quiet negotiations; you shook your head in bewilderment. Had Megumi woken up? You appeared on the threshold crashing into two pairs of eyes. Both were sitting on Gojo's bed talking quietly about something, but as soon as they saw you, they immediately fell silent. "Oh?" you smiled, tilting your head slightly to the side. "So the reunion has already happened after all. It's a shame, because I wanted it to be a little more festive," you looked at infirmary's surrounding.

There was an awkward silence. After a few seconds, the headmaster got up from the bed coughing meaningfully. "Well, I don't want to lose my lunch muffins, so... I'll leave you two alone. Y/N," he nodded his head in farewell and you watched him going away, puzzled because his room was in the other direction.

Turning your head, you met the sorcerer's gaze. Not sure where to begin, you waved your hand gently. "Hey."

"Hey," he averted his gaze, fiddling with his fingers.

Exhausted from the growing awkwardness, you not knowing where to start until then decided to start with what you held in your hand. "Uh, anyway... I've got apples, peaches, orange and cherry juice in here," a smile grew on Gojo's face as you listed and he bit his lip. "There's also a mochi here. With green tea, chocolate and mango," the sorcerer stopped smiling and his already large eyes rounded with shock and you laughed. "Don't look at me like that. Your students served ya up on a plate," you walked over to his bedside table and carefully set the paper bag down all the while feeling the stare but somehow not feeling uncomfortable about it. "This is my apology for yesterday's uh, incident. I acted impulsively."

"Hey! Just an apology?" suddenly the quiet sorcerer was suddenly as loud as everyone had described him to be. "And here I was beginning to think someone actually cared about me." He turned away from you pouting his lips making you laugh once again.

"And I never said that was the only reason," you never saw the look on Gojo's face as you moved towards the unconscious Megumi. You walked over to the boy and running your fingers gently over his forearms, took his hand examining it; the dark energy was now painted in chaotic dark lines only at his fingertips. "There, he's feeling much better now, so he should wake up soon." Wrapped up in your thoughts of Megumi, you didn't even hear Gojo walk up close to you; turning around, a whistle escaped your lips. You'd never viewed him this close and full-length before not counting that incident when you saw nothing but a red veil; you jokingly raised your head covering your eyes with the palm of your hand as if protecting them from the sunlight. "Mister, isn't it blowing hard out there?"

Not looking up from another thousandth joke about his height, Gojo laughed softly sitting down on the couch at Megumi's feet. "Nah, it's not blowing," he wrapped his long fingers around his chin cocking his head as if in thought. "Though, pipsqueaks can really be kinda hard of hearing."

"We never introduced ourselves to each other," you held out your hand to him looking at him unflinchingly.

He felt either awkward or embarrassed under your gaze; hastily and invisibly clutching the sheets in his hands, Gojo tried to wipe away the sweat that protruded on his palms all the while feeling his cheeks grow warm, but he still extended his hand in return and you shook hands. "Gojo. Gojo Satoru."

"Y/N. Just Y/N," even though your lower face wasn't visible Gojo could feel how bright you were smiling at him taking a seat next to him on the couch.

"Well, Y/N," he swallowed quietly, feeling the warmth radiating from you and if you hadn't been in the room, Gojo felt like he would have slapped himself to come to his senses. "How much more do you know about me?"

"Let me see," you sat on the couch and started to dangle your feet. Even though the beds in the infirmary were quite high themselves, Gojo still had his hand over his mouth pretending to just lean on it, even though he was trying not to laugh. "You're kind of an arrogant creature who doesn't recognize anyone's authority, but with your power it's forgivable," you said, crooking one finger. "You have a heap of altruism in you just so long as nothing goes against your selfish desires," you crooked a second finger. "You're a very light sleeper, I don't think that point needs explaining," you bent a third finger. "You're a fan of ridiculously expensive shirts," you curved your fourth finger. "You also go to the dentist every two months to get another cavity treated because you love sweets too much," you curved the last finger on your hand. "And you also get drunk from one glass of wine," you added and though you really wanted to continue you were afraid you'd be considered a stalker.

"Wow," his voice sounded very quiet for some reason. "And you really remembered all that?"

"Of course I did," you shook your head and grinned staring at him. "I'm a manipulator," he stared at you wide-eyed for a couple seconds then the chamber filled with your soft, seemingly melded laughter. As you laughed, you looked him over with an elusive concern. "But more importantly, how are ya feeling?"

"Wonderful," he crooned looking at you the way professional liars do. He appreciated your skeptical look and realizing the attempt had failed, continued to reassure you. "Really, I'm fine. Sometimes weird thoughts pop into my head, but it's happened before," he smiled awkwardly his eyes fixed on the floor and he clasped his fingers together.

Your conscience gnawed at you for invading his personal space enough already. Suppressing the urge for further questioning and casting a glance behind your back at Megumi, you turned back to Gojo. "Just try not to be alone right now."

Loneliness. The curse or freedom that had followed him all his life, neither letting him fall normally nor fly high constantly keeping him between heaven and earth. "But I have no one to go to," he thought to himself, for the first time not finding the courage to say it out loud.

"Y/N-ie?" a thin voice made you look up. A little girl stood on the doorstep having changed from yesterday's blue dress to a light purple one.

You grinned and patted her knee gently beckoning her over and letting her know you weren't the least bit angry that she was walking around the huge house alone again. "There's my little tail," you picked her up, kissing her on the temple, making Tris giggle uncontrollably. When she calmed down, she immediately stared with her dark eyes at the white-haired man. "Tris, this is Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer alive," you dramatically and meaningfully expressed his status causing his cheeks to warm again; afterward you glared at Gojo. "Gojo, this is Tris, my uh- my daughter," you stammered a bit as you stipulated her status, for which you mentally slapped yourself on the forehead. 

Gojo stared at you in amazement then furrowed his eyebrows incredulously. "Aren't you a little young for the role of mommy?"

"Why, do ya wanna figure it out?" there was a teasing challenge in your voice and you moved a little toward him.

"Yes! I mean N-NO! I mean- Oh my god," Gojo started to stutter and immediately hid his flushed face in his hands. You and Tris sat there looking at him with a look of satisfaction at your prank even though the girl didn't understand what just happened and was just copying your behavior.

"You didn't conceive Megumi at thirteen, did you?" Gojo was even more confused by your question, but when he realized what you were getting at, he pulled his face away from his hands and looked at you raising his eyebrows; you only nodded in response.

"Are we going to watch the Iron Giant?" Tris interjected into the conversation.

"Hmm, are we gonna watch this cartoon for the hundredth time?" you cocked your head as if pondering even though you already knew your answer; dark eyes were looking down at you expectantly. "Of course we'll watch it. Wanna join?" you turned towards the sorcerer again. "Or grown men don't watch cartoons?"

"Gladly," he said carefully hiding a smile. Picking up Tris, you headed into the living room and this time you got another tail.

***

Two elderly men sat in the kitchen sipping hot blueberry tea and watching the three of you on the couch in front of the TV. You and Gojo were sitting close together and Tris kept talking restlessly between you piling pillows around you and trying to get comfortable on either you or the sorcerer. Gojo seemed to be making jokes all the time and after another joke you pinched his nose instead of laughing causing him to let out a disgruntled squeak pursing his lips playfully. "They seem to be getting along quite well," Frank turned to Principal Jaga not taking his eyes off of you.

The headmaster hummed skeptically setting his cup aside. "That restless one gets along pretty well with everyone. As long as they don't get in his way. Anyway, I'm glad he can exhale a little now after everything," Frank sighed restlessly at the principal's words wondering when that opportunity would fall to you as well and the principal certainly noticed it. "So... demons?"

"Well, you could say that," Frank smiled shrugging his shoulders. "A good half of what's said about them in any of the sources is true except..." the gray-haired man faltered, unsure of how to present the information staring first at the end credits of the cartoon you and Gojo were watching then looking up at the night sky through the living room window. "Except they're not of mythological origin. And we call them dioreacts."

The principal furrowed his eyebrows and stared at Frank, but exploded into a low cackle a couple minutes later. "Aliens? Are you serious now?"

Carrying a soiled popcorn dish and hearing the last part of the conversation, you couldn't help but intervene. "What's the matter? Have ya always seen aliens as green little men with mustaches on their heads?"

"No, it's just... Extraterrestrial intelligent life exists after all?" the principal shook his head in disbelief squinting his eyes.

Having put the dishes in the sink, you turned around and leaned against the kitchen unit; Gojo sat down next to Frank and he seeing that you were without Tris, gave you a questioning look. "She wore us out pretty well and fell asleep on the couch. Don't ya dare wake her up," you pointed your index finger threateningly at Frank realizing that if she woke up it would be up to you to entertain her; you then focused your attention on the headmaster. "After all, in the concept of 'extraterrestrial intelligent life' we only understand one word: extraterrestrial. What 'life' is and what 'intelligent' is for some reason no one is in a hurry to explain. So yes, to deny its existence just because it is beyond our comprehension is rather silly."

"But how did they end up on Earth?" the Director asked and you could tell by the look on his face that he still took you for crazy.

"We have no idea why they suddenly began their space expansion. Maybe because of some threat, maybe somewhere in their world they had already evolved to the point where they had nothing left to do but conquer space to keep their evolution from stalling." You scratched your temple thoughtfully and stared up at the night sky. "It's also unclear where they came from, whether from another star system, another dimension, some parallel worlds, another fabric of space-time or Balk ⁴, but either way, there's two pieces of news, good and bad," you perked up, and walked over to the table and sat down across from Gojo who had been listening intently to you all this time. "First and good, they can't interact with us outside of the human body in any way, and neither can we with them. We simply don't have such senses, but the bad one... The bad one sounds exactly the same, but with a different implication. They're infesting people's bodies nonstop. And all this makes us think that they really left their homeland in a hurry because of some danger, and now having found themselves here and having found a shelter in a human body they want to settle here."

Gojo clicked his teeth, something dark and unfamiliar in his eyes. "Why don't they live in peace? We humans are friendly enough creatures."

"It's just that unlike Earth creatures who have an aquatic basis for life, they have it tied to human blood plasma. In large quantities. But they eat us because we're delicious, I guess," you tightened your lips at the unpleasantness of this conversation.

"How is that possible?" the principal asked. "I mean, it's human bodies that they're inhabiting, so they're an earthly life form now, too."

"There is nothing earthly and much less human in them after fusion because the atoms in their molecules have been reshaped and rearranged," you stated flatly, your voice as if it had turned metallic. "By combining certain atoms in a certain sequence we get a structure with properties that a simple bunch of the same atoms don't have, and the name of that structure is a molecule. The basis of life is not somewhere out there at the level of individual atoms, it is higher. The basis of life is molecular. Now try to swap at least two atoms in molecules and living matter having lost its emergent⁵ property will immediately become inanimate turning a human being into a corpse. Now imagine when the Diomorphea having appeared on this planet, began to collide with humans, either completely accidentally or completely intentionally provoking fusion; How many people were killed while the Diomorphea was trying to find the right configuration of atoms with which to exist?         

Gojo tilted his head to the side, which made his hair stick out even shaggier, reached out to you and snapped his fingers in front of your nose bringing you out of your information trance. "Diomorphea? What the hell kind of pokemon is that?"    

"So-called core. According to the information gathered over thousands of years, the hunters came to the conclusion that all dioreacts used to be something whole, but at the first successful fusion they split into pieces, God only knows how many," you kept looking at the sorcerer trying to stifle the urge to ruffle his hair. "So, the Diomorphea is the core or the first dioreact, ya name it. And there's a suspicion that it's the one that's somehow directly involved in the fusion of all the other split-off dioreacts, otherwise, if every dioreact could conduct a fusion we would all be dropping like flies without explanation."

Gojo hummed propping his head up with both hands. Although he showed genuine interest, his eyes were involuntarily sleepy and he desperately tried to blink away the drowsiness causing his long white lashes to flutter. A mesmerizing sight. "Given the nature of our work, it's strange that we've never encountered them."

"We'll take that as a compliment," you chirped swinging your leg, and your bare foot grazed his equally bare ankle. Casually tapping the table with awkward fingertips and pretending that none of this had just happened, you leaned back further into the back of your chair. "Yeah, and if you've encountered them, it's unlikely ya paid attention. Unless you could feel the effect of the uncanny valley, only instead of disgust and fear ya'd feel an uncontrollable rising sense of anxiety. No one's had that?" you looked around the table at everyone and seeing the headmaster and Gojo shake their heads negatively, you shrugged. "No wonder, ya people are unusual too," suddenly looking up and remembering that you should be somewhere else right now, you added. "Actually, not all dioreacts are bad. Some of them blend into the normal human rhythm of life, and just a couple dozen of them are of great help to us. We owe them a lot, because they told almost everything we know because now even though all dioreacts are divided, they are still a single organism and they see, hear, and feel everything that others see, hear, and feel. The name of such dioreacts is insiders," you jumped up from your chair grabbing your phone off the kitchen counter.

Frank, looking around in confusion and trying to catch a glimpse of your flailing figure looked visibly perturbed. "And where do ya think you're going, young lady?"

"Meet the insider, he texted me," you shouted already from the hallway sitting on a chair and putting on your socks.

"Actually, we contact the insiders ourselves for security purposes!" the indignation in Frank's voice grew with every word uttered, his low voice making the dishes on the table almost shake.

"Really?" you blurted out sarcastically, hoping he would hear it. "And for what purpose did you disable our house's security protocol then?"

Frank couldn't take it anymore, he snorted in indignation standing up from the table so abruptly that the chair beneath him fell over, and headed toward you out into the hallway. "Did I have to make Tris and Mike cut their hands open to give your artificial intelligence their blood for examination?" the tone of his voice sounded like you wanted to leave as soon as possible. "Ya do realize this is a trap, don't you?"

"Well, or the information is so urgent that the insider just doesn't have time to wait for us to deign to contact him. Come on, this one's been tried and tested over the years," you gibbered hastily pulling on your sneakers. "Otherwise, this is such an obvious trap that I'm going to fall for it purely on principle! That's it, I'm out of here," with that you gave Frank a quick hug and dashed out the door that led to the basement floor.

To your surprise, you heard the sound of rushing footsteps behind you. Gojo remembering his past experience didn't dare to grab your hand again. Luckily for him, you finally descended the metal stairs and turned around and seeing your face once again, all the words he wanted to say flew out of his head. "Well, uh— take care," he smiled nonchalantly tucking his hands into his pockets.

"As always," you nodded your head smiling back and examining his endlessly mussed hair. "I apologize in advance," you reached out with a hand, briefly but gently ruffling the snow-white hair. "Gosh, even softer than I thought," you squeaked and whether from haste or embarrassment ran out the huge metal door, leaving Gojo utterly confused, alone with his suddenly feverish heart.

Two days later, you were insanely happy to hear the usually annoying beep of the key card because it meant you were home. Your split eyebrow was almost healed and there were only a couple of minor bruises on your body. As you passed through the metal door, you noted the absence of the white room; the security protocol was still disabled, and therefore Frank was still here. He was right after all, this was all just another trap and the insider who'd been feeding you information for years was dead, but you'd rather eat your own pinky than admit that to him.

It was so late that you were sure that the whole house was asleep with its occupants, but feeling terribly hungry and remembering that there was nothing in the refrigerator in your workroom, you headed for the metal staircase trying to keep the sound of your footsteps in the quietest range. Finally, after turning the doorknob and closing it carefully behind you, you carelessly but also quietly kicked off your sneakers and went straight to the kitchen in total darkness.

When you reached the corner of the kitchen around the corner where the dining table and the refrigerator were located you heard a strange commotion. You listened leaning against the doorjamb, your hand in a dark haze ready to grab your dagger. The quiet creaks of the wooden table, the rustling of clothes and suddenly the sounds of kissing. Hearing it, you wrinkled your nose in confusion. Had Rachel really started bringing lovers into this house? The black haze from your hand disappeared immediately; after thinking about it some more, you hummed contentedly but quietly thinking that maybe it was Kyle who had finally found someone, but still remaining creepily annoyed by the fact that they weren't doing it in a more private place. "Nuh-uh, I told you," a teasing male voice made the already immobile you literally freeze in place. "No kissing on the lips, we've talked about this a thousand times."

He was answered by an equally teasing, languid foxy voice. "What's the matter? Are you saving yourself for the one?" you squinted your eyes and tried to rack your brain to remember anyone in this house with a voice like that.

"I don't see any point in exchanging spittle," Gojo barely finished the sentence as you stepped out from around the corner a bit to check that your hearing wasn't deceiving you. No, that's right. Two half-naked bodies pressed against each other on your dining table. Sorcerer pulling away from the woman began unbuttoning her blouse. "Are you sure you want to do this here?"

You stood still and not knowing what to do, watched their actions with completely blank eyes swallowing a disgusting lump of feelings that tasted more like a dirty floor cloth soaked in rotten blood. If only your legs had been buzzing with fatigue a few minutes ago, now even your head ached. The heavy chains that had shackled your heart long before and had loosened their grip over time, clenched it with renewed vigor.

 "Oh, come on!" she giggled pressing her naked thighs against his waist. "Those saints are all sound asleep by ten o'clock at night."

"Then spread your legs a little wider," Gojo grinned finally unbuttoning her blouse and exposing the last of what was hidden.

You flicked the switch, and the light spread across the room just as quickly as your patience was wearing thin. "Not everyone," your face now had a good-natured expression on it instead of blank eyes. "When I told ya not to be alone, I didn't mean it like that, ya know," Gojo pulled away from the girl abruptly and looked at you apparently swallowing.

You didn't forget for a second why you'd come here and you strode lightly past them and straight to the refrigerator. Opening it, you appraised the contents with a glance. "I don't judge people for their kinks, but if ya want to fuck in this house find a more private place."

"We'll remember that," the girl chirped giving you a sly look; still prostrate on the table, she playfully covered her bare breasts with the fabric of her blouse. You grabbed a carton of chocolate milk and slammed the refrigerator door shut and because of your unpleasant emotions, you didn't even notice the sorcerer standing next to you barely moving his parched lips as if he were struggling to get a single word out.

"Or at least not on this table," you tapped your knuckles on the wooden surface next to her white-gray mussed hair. "Because we eat here from time to time. Although, if you're going to eat her out, then I don't even have an objection," you were still keeping a friendly attitude, but it seemed to Gojo that you were literally spitting those words in his face and it also seemed to him that he really deserved it.

You were a moment away from leaving the room, but suddenly you heard the click of the door to the infirmary. You jerked open the refrigerator door and stood across from the two half-naked figures even though you realized that the refrigerator door and your size would not hide the outrage. The next unfamiliar faces were in the room and you slammed the door shut with force barely concealing your irritation.

A woman appeared at the door, a white medical coat draped over her shoulders; her tired look suggested that she was of the same profession. An old man came out behind her. She gave you a look that expressed nothing but a desire to go to bed. "What's going on here?"

"I could ask ya the same question," you waved your hands. "Who are you?"

"Shoko Ieiri, a doctor at Tokyo Magic College."

"Great, that says a lot," you said not hiding the irony bubbling in your voice. You glanced over at the bald old man standing next to her with the ridiculously long beard; you couldn't see his eyes from under his thick gray eyebrows. All of his ears were pierced in completely different places, the jewelry in them playing in the light. The old man seemed to be smaller than you were tall. "And what kind of fossil is that?" the girl behind you burst into laughter, though to you the whole situation was so absurd that it was no longer possible to keep yourself in check.

Shoko cast a glance at the old man before directing her eyes at you and if it weren't for the circumstances you would managed to note that you were crazy about her mole under her eye already. "As of late, our higher-up. Yoshinobu Gakuganji.

"Bring him back to the dig," dropping that phrase, you walked out of the room closing the door with such force that plaster sprinkled from the walls.

You were coming down the stairs to the workroom, one of your hand clutching a carton of hard-won chocolate milk, the other typing an angry message to Frank barely hitting to spell.

[11:57pm] You: I've only been gone for two days so bother explaining why the fuck some obscure doctor paired with a walking antique is walking around freely in our house and someone is fucking on our damn dinner table

next ⊳

Chapter notes:

Xibalba – the underworld of the Maya peoples

Ouroboros – a snake eating its own tail; one of the oldest symbols known to mankind. Representation of eternity and infinity, the cyclical nature of life

Van Halen - famous American hard rock band of the 80s.

Bulk - long story short, massive bodies like stars, planets and black holes bend space in the vicinity of themselves, roughly speaking in this form woosh ◡ (you can say 'push down'), space cannot be pushed into nowhere, so Bulk that's the theoretical place where space can be pushed

Emergence - the presence of properties in the system that are not inherent in its components individually; irreducibility of the properties of the system to the sum of the properties of its components (imagine that someone methodically and repeatedly throws a bunch of stones into the air and after each throw there is a non-zero probability that the stones will fall on each other in a certain way forming a certain structure and this structure will have its own set of properties that the pile of stones itself does not possess. For example if once the stones fall so that they form a house (it sounds stupid but this is just an example) it will have properties like protection from rain wind animals etc)

PHEW THIS ONE WAS HARD

[crystalofmoon19]

um hey can i request xibalba x gn reader headcannons

Xibalba x Human! Reader - Headcannons (The Book Of Life x Reader)

(Note: Xibalba has been separated from La Muerte (you can check out La Muerte's blog here), the reader is gender neutral and is human, mention of Xibalba's past infidelity with La Muerte.)

♡ To be honest, Xibalba is not exactly the best lover, and what could you expect less? He is literally made of everything rotten you can imagine, and he has no faith in humanity (at least not like La Muerte does), but despite all this he tries and his efforts are good.

♡ Xibalba is really not in his best moment, he was unfaithful to his ex-wife La Muerte, and that's why she divorced him, Xibalba wanted to fix things with her, but it was too late.

♡ So Xibalba spent his time ruling the Land of the Forgotten, the only entertainment he can allow himself is to go up to the Land of the Living taking a human form, (since annoying humans is one of his greatest hobbies).

♡ That's when he meets you, a person so pure and kind that it makes his whole soul and heart melt, he had already lost faith in humanity centuries ago but seeing you made you catch his attention.

♡ Xibalba has had plenty of experience winning over several of his lovers before, so he will court you properly, giving you gifts (from flowers and chocolates to whatever gifts you like the most) and taking you to romantic dinners (he will even bring the “Sabor de Romance” wine), plus he will flirt and be quite the seducer with you.

♡ Xibalba’s biggest problem is his insecurities that can lead him to do questionable things (from cheating with his own wife to rule the Land of the Remembered to cheating on her with another goddess), but if you manage to get him over his insecurities you will have a lover completely devoted to you.

♡ He is also a very jealous man, he will always do everything possible to have all your attention, so make sure to tell him that you only have eyes for him.

♡ Although his actions will always be contradictory, the truth is that he loves you and loves you deeply, he will kiss your hands and your forehead to show his devotion to you.

♡ He will be willing to change to redeem himself for you.

♡ When you start dating and the caresses become present, he will completely melt at your touch.

♡ He will always call you dear and my love (and the Spanish version “mi amor”).

♡ When the time comes to reveal his true identity to you, he will give you a great explanation to show himself to you.

“I must say that you have surprised me, Y/N, in all these centuries I have never met a human like you.”

“You are the purest soul of all, and believe me when I tell you, no other human is as pure as you.”

“I thought that La Muerte would be the only one who could be the light in my darkness, but I realized that you are for me too, will you be able to reciprocate my feelings, my dear?” .- He kisses your hand waiting for your answer.

[the-empty-refrigerator]

HAVE Y'ALL EVER THOUGHT OF DOING A MORPHEUS FIC BASED ON THESE TWO'S DYNAMIC?????

because I have...Every. Single. Night. 😭

[starwrite-er]

El Libro De La Vida [Prologue] - Poe Dameron x Reader (x Kylo Ren)

Request: The book of life au where poe is manolo and kylo is joaquin. Reader of course is maria and bb8 can be chuy. Someone please write this.

A/N: that wasn’t really a request but somebody on anon sent it to @fandom-writes asking for someone to write it so here it is lmao anyway if u haven’t seen The Book Of Life then I 100% recommend it go watch it now it’s on netflix. uhhh endgame relationship here is pretty obvious if u’ve seen the movie. Obvs various character roles and stuff have been altered for the Purpose™ of this fic. ALSO THIS WAS JUST GONNA BE A FUN LITTLE THING BUT AHAH??? WHOOPS???? IT GOT IN DEPTH™

Tags: @fandom-writes @the-new-fanfic-order @disapearing-act @badwolfandtimelords @xxassbuttsophiaxx @ladyaphmeow @memyselfandwifi

A More Important Note: Of course, Día De Los Muertos is a very important holiday, and if I have said anything at all in this story that could in anyway insult or offend anyone or the original story, please tell me so I can make necessary changes.

 “This is the Book of Life.”

 "All the world is made of stories, and all of those stories are right here.“

 "Long ago, in the center of Mexico, was the quaint little town of San Angel.”

 "And naturally, directly below it lay the Land of the Remembered, a festive and magic place for those who lived on in the memories of their loved ones!“

 "And below that lies the Land of the Forgotten. The sad and lonely destination for those poor souls who are no longer remembered.”

 "But, before I can properly begin this story, you must meet the magical rulers of these two realms.“

 "That is La Muerta. She is made out of sweet sugar candy. She loves all mankind, and believes their hearts are pure and true.”

 "And that is Xibalba. That charming rascal thinks mankind is not so pure, just like him. He’s made out of tar and everything icky in the whole world.“

 "And that is the Candlemaker. He keeps everything in balance. He is made out of wax and has a beard full of clouds.”

 "See all these wooden figures here? They represent real people in our story, just like you and me.“

 "And so our story begins, on the day that the people of Mexico call the Day of the Dead, and on this particular Day of the Dead, after centuries of being banished, Xibalba had had enough.”

 Perched on the rooftops, Xibalba and La Muerta watch as the people of San Angel celebrate the Day of the Dead, spying for the subjects of their newest wager after Xibalba had made the mistake of complaining about the land he rules.

 "Ah, look there, my love. A classic mortal dilemma,“ The dark creature known as Xibalba points to three children. "Two boys. Best friends, no less.”

 "Oh, in love with the same girl.“ The beautiful La Muerta finishes, catching sight of a young soldier, a young guitarist, and a young maiden.

 "I believe we have our wager. Which boy will marry her?” Xibalba decides, his choice already in mind.

 "Very well. We will each choose one of those boys as our champion.“ La Muerta continues. Floating down from the rooftops, the pair transform into more unsuspecting figures.

 "Well, let’s go wish them luck.” Xibalba says, disguised as an old man, taking the arm of La Muerta, disguised as an old woman covered by a shawl.

 As the children subjected to this wager part ways to find the grave of their ancestors, the two rulers of this festive day also part ways, seeking out their champion.

 "Kind people, may I please have a bit of your bread? I am so hungry.“ La Muerta hobbles over to the grave of Shara Bey. Gathered around is the Dameron family, a family of well known bullfighters, though the heart of the youngest can be found elsewhere. The family take notice of the old woman, Kes watching his son waste no time in aiding the woman.

 "I’m sure Mama would want you to have it,” The young Poe Dameron says, smiling kindly at the woman as he offers her a loaf of bread. The boy, La Muerta’s chosen champion, turns to his father. “Right, Papa?” Kes Dameron smiles and nods, reassuring the boy.

 "Thank you, my dear. In return, you have my blessing,“ The disguised ruler of the Land of the Remembered tells the young Poe, her words holding more weight than one might know. "May your heart be always pure and courageous.”

 "What do we say, Poe?“ Kes prompts his son.

 "Thank you, señora. Thank you.” The sweet boy says. Distanced from the grave of the late Shara Bey stands the young Ben Solo, watching his friend.

 "Oh, Poe. Always giving stuff away for free,“ He says, shaking his head before turning to the extravagant grave he honours. This boy does not have the same humility that his best friend does. "Right, Grandfather?”

 A dark laugh echoes through the walls of the tomb, alerting the young Ben Solo of an intruder. Though his morals may be questionable, his desire to prove himself pushes him forth into the darkness, leaving him at the mercy of whoever lurks there. A child, after all, cannot defend themselves when armed only with a wooden sword.

 "Young sir, may I please have some of your bread? I’m so hungry.“ An old man comes forth from the shadows, causing Ben to stumble backwards in surprise and fear. This man is Xibalba, approaching with the same request as his love. Ben Solo, however, quickly regains his composure, and with it comes the sense of entitlement.

 "This bread is for my grandfather,” He says, mocking the old man as he stabs a loaf with his fake sword, taking a bite. “And it’s delicious.”

 "Well, perhaps you would consider a trade?“ Xibalba offers despite knowing that cheating like this would enrage La Muerta. Oh well. He’ll do whatever it takes for his chosen champion to win. The ruler of the Land of the Forgotten reveals a medal, glowing faintly with an eerie, green magic. Ben Solo, however, is unimpressed, having seen something such as that many times before. "This is no ordinary medal, my boy. As long as you wear it, you cannot be hurt, and it will give you immeasurable courage. But, keep it hidden. There is a bandit king that will stop at nothing to get it back.” Ben’s greed and desire drives him to snatch the medal from the man’s hands, tossing him the half eaten loaf of bread in return.

 Ben gasps in recognition at the mention of a bandit king, but when he turns to face the man again, he has vanished, leaving nothing but a sinister laugh lost in the wind.

 Returning to the rooftop of the tall tower, Xibalba joins the waiting La Muerta, believing that his deviousness has ensured him his victory.

 "So, if my boy marries the girl, I will finally rule the Land of the Remembered.“ Xibalba finalises his terms, returned to his unearthly form.

 "And if my boy marries the girl, you will…” La Muerta pauses, stroking her love’s cheek and smiling as sweetly as the sugar she’s made of. But this ethereal woman has not forgotten the past, and she pulls harshly on Xibalba’s beard, her glare made of daggers. “You will stop interfering with the affairs of man!”

 Though Xibalba protests this, at the thought of returning to eternity in the Land of the Forgotten, he accept’s his love’s terms. “Very well, my dear. By the ancient rules, the wager is set.”

 And illuminated by the light of the moon and the candle-lit graves, the pair of gods shook hands.

 “And so the greatest wager in history began: Poe versus Ben for the hand of Y/N.”

[crystalofmoon19]

Being in a Relationship with La Muerte (Headcannons) - La Muerte x Reader (The Book Of Life x Reader)

(Note: I'm really sorry if it's too long, I really want to write many The Book Life x Reader blogs!)

♡ When La Muerte is in a relationship, she is very affectionate with her partner, she loves to show her love with signs of affection, she will always hold your hand, give you a big hug and give you so many kisses (on your forehead, on your cheeks and on your your lips); not to mention the caresses that she will always give you in the right places. La Muerte will always find a way to show you her love through her actions.

♡ La Muerte will give you many kisses, and her kisses will leave marks all over your face and body, thanks to her red lipstick made of sweet red fruits 💋

♡ When La Muerte kisses you, the candles in her hat will become brighter, and the more intense is the kiss, more intense the fire will be in the candles in her hat 🕯🔥

♡ La Muerte has various nicknames for you, among which are: “Mi amor”, “Mi vida”, “Cielo”, “Corazón”, “Cariño”, and another nickname that is similar to your name.

♡ Although La Muerte is very affectionate with you, she still respects your personal space, so if one day you decide to have a day to yourself or you want to spend it with your friends, La Muerte will let you be yourself in the relationship and will let you have fun giving yourself a kiss in the cheek.

♡ La Muerte is a very busy woman, after all she is the ruler of the Land of the Remembered, but she will always make sure to have time with you and she knows how to use it very well, since there you take advantage of it to talk, to hug, to kiss, and if you want, you can just cuddle.

♡ You will also be showered with many privileges by being La Muerte's spouse, you will have free food, you will be able to attend multiple parties, and you will have the best gifts you can imagine; Of course, if La Muerte sees that you are taking advantage of her generosity, she will take away your privileges until you learn your lesson in humility.

♡ La Muerte can be a little jealous, because in her previous relationship with Xibalba, he cheated on her on more than one occasion, and although she trusts you (and you wouldn't cheat on her either); she still feels jealous when you spend a lot of time with a person she might consider romantic potential for you.

♡ Despite all this, La Muerte would be willing to talk to you about her jealousy or that she cannot be with you all the time as she would like to be, she really wants the relationship between you and her to prosper and will always be open to communication as a couple. Even if there are problems between you, she will tell you to go to the Couples Therapist God so that you can solve her problems, showing that she wants a stable relationship with you.

♡ La Muerte will always be willing to listen to you in everything you need, if you have any problem, whether it is yours or in the relationship, she will be there for you. She will listen to you carefully and give you good advice while she has her hand intertwined with yours, if you cry she will dry your tears, give you a hug, a kiss on the cheek and tell you that everything is okay.

♡ And lastly, La Muerte loves to dance, and she will always want to dance with you even if you have two left feet, it doesn't matter because she will always tell you that she can teach you. She also loves to sing, so when you are alone she will sing you love songs, whether they are to calm you down or to show her love for you.

❤️‍🔥