#but normally I feel very bad when I hurt someone's feelings and I'm sure I haven't hit anyone since I was about three

[thedoubteriswise]

the discrepancy between my emotional response when someone is rude to me and my emotional response when someone is rude to a friend is insane. passing irritation vs. a sincere visceral desire to seriously hurt that guy, possibly even physically

[papiliotao]

INDEBTED — kinich x gn!reader

content: 11.6k words, cw: mentions of abuse and alcoholism, kinich backstory spoilers + natlan 5.0 archon quest spoilers, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, everyone is bad with emotions, death, near-death experiences

summary: kinich has never been one to trust easily, but fate has other plans. throughout the years, he slowly comes to terms with his love for you.

a/n: i'm so normal... so normal... SO NORMAL. this was an attempt at gaining an understanding of kinich's character, so it might not be perfect, but i tried my very best to ensure the characterization wasn't too questionable. i love him dearly.

ACT I.

As someone raised by the lonesome mountains of Natlan, you have long grown used to an atmosphere of tranquil quietude, a serene symphony composed purely of nature’s music. The gentle flow of zephyrs running through seas of viridescent grass coupled with the occasional sounds of birdcall have become the soundtrack of your life. For you, an ever-enduring hush has always been synonymous with normalcy, but you are perfectly content with the status quo.

So when the sound of a choked scream shatters the flawlessly-crystalline silence of a hazy morning into a thousand shards of dissonance, you feel yourself tense. In all your six years of life, you have never had the displeasure of hearing anything so horrific.

It’s funny. The noise is fleeting, ephemeral, but it holds infinitely more weight than anything else you’ve witnessed during your short time in this world. You’re sure that it will be a long time before anything else disturbs the peace in such a profound manner, and it is for that exact reason that you resolve to investigate.

Deep down, you know it’s a stupid idea. You’re only a kid, and if it turns out there’s some grave danger, it’s more or less over for you. Curiosity alone isn’t reason enough to risk your own safety but the thought of another person facing peril is.

With hurried steps, you rush through your house, lightly scurrying through the corridors to see if anyone else is awake yet. When you’re sure that everyone is still and not a creature stirs, you grab the simple pouch of medical supplies your family always insists you take with you and exit the house in a rush.

The moment you step outside, blinding threads of aureate light twist in elaborate patterns, weaving themselves across a divine tapestry dyed cornflower and tinged marigold.

It’s way too bright, and even more concerningly, it’s way too quiet.

You feel your shoulders tense, and a shiver runs down your spine. The rapid coalescence of chaos and pandemonium is unnerving, and the ambiance makes you uneasy. However, you know you have to press on.

With as much fervor as you can muster, you run around the perimeter of your house, scouring every nook and cranny for signs of life. It’s not a large place, yet you can’t seem to find anything. Whatever it was that made that noise seems to have vanished without a trace.

Just as you’re about to give up, something on the ground catches your attention. A footprint. It’s a light imprint, barely visible, etched with the utmost precision into the dusty earth below. The size of the footprint is unfamiliar, and based on the weight distribution, it seems that the person it belongs to tried to tread lightly.

But not lightly enough.

It’s clear that the track points directly towards the stack of crates and barrels sitting behind your home, so with caution in your step, you gradually inch towards the area. As you do, the sound of shuffling permeates your ears, confirming that there is indeed something lurking behind the stacked wooden storage units. You take a deep breath before daring to peek.

The sight you’re met with shocks you to your core.

A young boy around your age is huddled between the boxes, nestled securely within a small gap. His knees are tucked all the way up to his chest, his short arms wrapped around them. The boy doesn’t dare move an inch. He simply looks up at you with eyes of molten amber, their depths bedazzled with emerald starglitter. As he moves, strands of hair spun of midnight essence shift to frame his face.

A part of your young mind thinks that he looks unreal — ethereal, but your train of thought is quickly disrupted when you notice his scraped knees.

“Are you okay?” you ask, extending a hand towards the boy. Despite your attempt at being gentle, the boy flinches, flecks of opulent gold swirling within his irises, mistrust dispersing in their wake. “I won’t hurt you.”

Your gazes lock, and you hope he can sense the sincerity in your actions. Hesitantly, the boy takes your hand, his knees wobbling slightly as he stands. He’s unsteady, but you make sure he doesn’t fall. Carefully, you lead him over to the front porch of your house, slowly sitting him down on the wooden planks. Once you’re sure he’s fine, you let go of his hand and begin taking bandages and cleaning supplies out of your medicinal pouch.

As you turn towards him, preparing to patch him up, you see him tense slightly.

He’s still scared.

“It might sting a little.”

Your comment doesn’t alleviate his face of its downcast expression — in fact, it just makes things worse.

“But it won’t last for long,” you insist. “Plus, all the adults always tell me it’s for the best.”

The boy is still deeply suspicious of you. It’s strange. You’ve never met someone so on edge.

“Would it make you feel better if I let you do it yourself?” You offer the supplies to the boy, and he curtly nods, snatching the bandages and swabs before you have a chance to process what’s going on. 

He examines them closely, sunbeam-speckled eyes roaming every inch of the objects, as if shedding monochromatic tones of dandelion across their surfaces to detect any obscure dangers. After what feels like an eternity, he finally starts cleaning his wounds, barely even wincing as he brushes over them. As he moves on to bandaging his knees, you watch intently. He does everything with such ease and efficiency that you wonder if he’s used to it all.

Yet the longer he continues to work on treating himself, the more you realize that the awkward angle is causing him to wince slightly. Perhaps his wounds run deeper than you think. Slowly, you draw your hand closer to his, tapping him with a finger to catch his attention.

“Can I do the rest of the bandages?” you inquire. It seems he feels more at ease now, and you want to take this opportunity to further gain his trust. Besides, the last thing you want is for him to make his injuries worse.

The boy pauses for a few seconds, tilting his head as he regards you with apprehension. Locks of navy and seafoam mingle in the caress of the breeze, transitory weightlessness engulfing the atmosphere for only a single moment. Stillness becomes nearly tangible as equanimity envelops you. The tension only builds up once more as the boy dips his head in a gentle nod, loosening his fingers around the gauze to allow you to take it instead.

Meticulously, you continue wrapping the boy’s knees in fibres of pristine white, concealing the nasty wounds marring his skin. Despite not trusting you earlier, he’s very compliant, and he remains both calm and unmoving as you aid him.

And when you finally finish, you hear him speak for the first time.

“Thank you,” he whispers quietly, traces of hoarseness lacing his voice. It doesn’t sound like he speaks often. “You’re very kind.”

Before you can respond, the boy gets up, trying his best to hobble a few steps before staggering again. He manages to catch himself on a tree, and as he does, you race over to him. Obviously he’s not in any condition to be walking around.

“Be careful,” you reprimand him. “You can’t leave just yet.”

The boy shakes his head frantically.

“I’m supposed to be home right now,” he states gently. Although he tries his best to keep his tone flat and neutral, you notice the way his gaze becomes downcast, sullen with ashen rain clouds that dull anything and everything luminous.

“Just stay for a few more minutes?”

Perhaps it’s the concern entangled in your tone or your wide-eyed look of pure desperation that convinces the boy to give in. With a cautious sort of reluctance, he allows you to drag him back over to your old spot.

“So how did you end up here, and more importantly, how did you end up so hurt?”

It’s already very apparent that the boy isn’t big on words, yet the fleeting silence that floods your surroundings in waves of unspoken wariness unsettles you.

“I ran too fast and fell down here,” the boy states simply.

No normal person would run so fast that they dive headfirst off a small ledge without noticing, and what kind of kid goes outside without someone else along to supervise them if they get hurt?

His answer doesn’t seem insincere, yet something feels off. Doubt begins to blossom in your conscience, taking root in the form of fragmented bits of reason. Thus, you decide to try your luck and press just a little further.

“Why were you running,” you question. “Were you chased by a monster?”

“I guess you could say so…”

For a while, you continue to try to interrogate him, but you’re unable to get much more information out of him. The strange boy keeps all his secrets under lock and key, all his truths hidden within labyrinths of perplexing misdirection and nonchalant responses. Despite the frustration you feel when he refuses to comply, you understand. You’ve already pushed him far enough, but when it comes time for him to go, you try to get one last piece of information out of him.

“I never quite caught your name,” you remark as the boy steadies himself. He’s still a little wobbly but far better than before.

“Kinich,” he replies. “What about you?”

“[Name],” you say as you hand him your remaining medical supplies for later use.

Gratefully, Kinich takes the pouch, a ghost of a smile gracing his face.

“[Name], huh?” he whispers. “I’ll remember it.”

ACT II.

Nothing in the world is free. Every cost must be carefully weighed and then remunerated sufficiently.

This has been Kinich’s philosophy for as long as he can remember. No matter how desperately the sands of time and winds of fate try to erode his beliefs, they’re never successful, for his ideals have been ingrained in him since the moment he could make sense of natural order.

Ever since that fateful day where the ever-fragile threads of destiny pulled the two of you together, Kinich has been trying to think of a way to repay you, but with all the responsibilities and burdens weighing on his young shoulders, he finds it nearly impossible. When he’s not preoccupied with tending to the crops, he’s out and about in areas where only the wilderness reigns, carefully setting lethal traps to ensnare his next meal. Survival is tough, and with the ever-present threat of starvation looming over him, waiting for any opportune moment to snatch him from the gentle embrace of life, he allocates a large majority of his energy to feeding his father and himself.

It’s not like his father is much help anyway. These days, he seems to be drinking away his sorrow more than ever, losing himself as tides of despair ebb and flow, pulling him away from lucidity and into the frozen grips of oceanic melancholia. He’s been worse than ever since the disappearance of Kinich’s mother, and the one who feels the effects most potently is Kinich himself.

But everything changes on Kinich’s seventh birthday.

It’s his special day, and for once, he hopes that his father will allow him some clemency. For the first time in a long time, Kinich gathers up the courage to ask his father a question.

He asks if there has been any news of his mother.

At first, his father remains eerily silent. An ominous sense of uncertainty settles in the surrounding air, evoking Kinich to shudder as frostbite gnaws at him in a thousandfold. Bloodshot eyes pierce through Kinich’s defences, exposing him for the person he truly is beneath it all: a scared child, anxiously awaiting an answer from a man he no longer trusts.

He waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Until his father rushes forwards in a sudden juxtaposition of mood. The apathy that masked his inner turmoil just seconds before is now gone, replaced by a look of pure rage. That’s Kinich’s cue to run. He’s done this enough times to know.

So he takes off. His legs, although far shorter than his father’s, carry him far more swiftly. Reflexes and strength built up through countless similar instances take over, and everything becomes muscle memory for Kinich. On the other hand, his father does not fare quite as well. He stumbles, and at times, he even trips over the creeping roots of archaic trees. It’s as if the alcohol is weighing him down, but despite it all, he never loses sight of his son.

Kinich is an elusive breeze, weightless and elegant, never once losing his foothold as he springs from one place to another. His father is more akin to the ancient petra underfoot — uncouth, clumsy, yet destructive and powerful. Even as he staggers, his resolve remains steadfast and resolute. He will stop at nothing until he’s able to give his young son a piece of his mind.

And yet fate has a strange way of intervening at the least convenient moments, ensuring its heavenly ordainment is heeded. In the eyes of the universe, Kinich’s story is not ready to end — but his father’s is.

As Kinich rushes by the side of a cliff, this becomes apparent. The sound of heavy footfalls behind him disappears before he hears a thud. Gathering his courage, Kinich gazes behind him, only to be met with the sight of emptiness where his father should have been.

Then, he makes the fateful decision to peer below.

There, lying between thickets of dense foliage lies the body of the man he once lived with — a man full of life mere seconds ago, now motionless and despondent. It feels unreal. A shiver runs down Kinich’s spine as a creeping sense of despair begins to stab at his heart. He blinks rapidly, taking deep breaths in order to calm himself, before making his way down the cliff.

Emotions are strange, and Kinich has never been good with them. He had always believed that everything would begin to look up once his father was out of the picture, but now that his father is gone for good, Kinich can’t help but grieve. No matter how horrible he was, he was still Kinich’s only remaining parent. There were better times too — times where his father would bring home a box of sweets for him and a bouquet of flowers for his mother. It almost felt like they were a real family. In Kinich’s mind, these instances pale in comparison to all the torment his father had put him through, yet he can’t completely erase his pleasant memories either.

So as one last act of respect, Kinich decides to bring his father’s body home with him.

The journey home is long and arduous. As Kinich navigates the surrounding wildlands and his newfound freedom, swinging from treetop to treetop with his father’s grappling hook, he wordlessly says goodbye to the man who had caused him so much pain throughout the former years of his life.

On his seventh birthday, Kinich becomes an orphan. He tucks himself into bed, and while other children would have had their loving mothers to lull them off to sleep in an aria of oneiric delights, he has nothing but the harsh, transient gale that rocks the thin walls of his home.

On his seventh birthday, Kinich ends up completely alone.

ACT III.

Kinich has dealt with nightmares before, but the ones that plague him after the death of his father are particularly horrific. Every night, as watercolour fuchsia and muted lilac begin to bleed into periwinkle skies, Kinich finds himself mentally preparing for the duress that lays ahead — for each time he closes his eyes, he is whisked back to the past, forced to relive events he’d much rather forget.

Sometimes he actively resists sleep, fearing the mirages that may appear in his dreams. It is on one such night that he finally recalls his debt to you. As he lays awake, trying to ward off all-consuming thoughts of eternal solitude and grief, he remembers the one other person he’s interacted with in recent times, and an idea comes to mind. He’s going to start paying his price tonight.

Kinich is usually one to take caution, but right now, he would do anything to keep his mind from lingering on his harsh reality. As such, he climbs out of bed, making his way outside to gather some of the crops he’s grown in a rugged patch of land behind his house.

It feels good to be outside again. The fresh air is a welcome change compared to the stifling atmosphere within a house that holds far too many memories for Kinich’s liking. His recollections range from saccharine-sweet to fear-evoking, yet one thing that remains constant is the fact that Kinich can’t stop recalling a past that seems oh-so-distant.

As Kinich picks up a tool, plowing through the dirt to unearth some of the grainfruit he had planted earlier that year, his thoughts drift back to his mother. She used to wrap her delicate fingers around his when he was younger, carefully guiding him as he learned to cultivate and take care of the crops. Back then, Kinich had felt a special type of fragile warmth, but now, all that remains is the chill of the evening air.

Kinich wonders if he’ll ever feel that warmth again.

He finishes gathering a respectable amount of food in no time, having had years of practice in the past. The young boy tosses the grainfruit into a sack, preparing to set off on a journey with phantasmagoric darkness as his only companion and the luminous constellations overhead as his only guide.

The sights and sounds of an enigmatic midnight distract him from the thoughts that have been running through his head on a daily basis. Kinich is sure to watch his step, although he’s nearly certain he knows the area well enough to walk through it blindfolded by now.

Finally, after around ten minutes of wandering through veils of silken achromatic, he sees the silhouette of a building in the distance, a rough outline against a backdrop of night. To his surprise, he spots a lantern emitting a gilded glow as he approaches, its incandescent light breaking through layers of obsidian obscurity, flooding it with a golden radiance instead. As he draws closer, he begins to make out the faint shape of a figure in the distance.

Strange. What normal person would be out at this hour?

As the features of the mysterious person become more defined, Kinich realizes it’s you again. Subconsciously, a soft smile begins to grace his features at the thought of getting to speak to you once more. It’s the first time he’s been genuinely happy in a while.

When Kinich steps into the dim firelight of the lantern, his features illuminated by the ember-forged halo of light, you eagerly approach him and wave. Something about the fact that you still recognize makes his heart grow just a little softer.

“It’s you,” you remark, your face lighting up excitedly.

Kinich nods, awkwardly shuffling under the weight of your gaze. It’s been a long time since someone was so interested in him. He isn’t quite used to having people regard him with such attentiveness.

“What are you doing out at this time?” Curiosity flares in your eyes, dancing in asterisms of wonder that glimmer with the brilliance of the stars above. Normally Kinich doesn’t like it when others pry into his affairs, but he thinks the look of inquisitiveness is endearing on you.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Kinich bluntly responds, “and I had a debt to repay.” He gestures at the sack of grainfruit beside him, silently weighing out the costs in his mind. It isn’t enough to pay you back for helping a stranger unconditionally, but Kinich thinks it’s a start. At the very least, it’s enough to reimburse the material costs of tending to his wounds, and he’ll deal with reciprocating your actual actions later.

“Debt?” Your face contorts into a puzzled frown. Kinich decides that he appreciates this expression far less when it adorns your visage. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“You treated my injuries the other day,” Kinich begins to explain, but you cut him off.

“And there’s really no need to repay me for that,” you interrupt. “Trust me. I wanted to help you.”

Somewhere in the depths of his heart, Kinich feels a flurry of opalescent butterflies spread their wings and take flight. Iridescent sparks of a newfound fuzzy feeling burst to life within his chest.

It’s… new. Everything is new with you.

“At least take the grainfruit,” he mutters, trying to remain nonchalant. As a young child, he still doesn’t quite understand what he’s feeling, but he’d rather not make his emotions apparent. “It’ll save me the trouble of having to drag it back home.”

You hesitate for a few seconds before agreeing, hauling the large bag inside with great difficulty before rushing back out to Kinich. By the time you return, he recalls that you shouldn’t be up at this hour either.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you awake right now?” Kinich asks you as you close the front door behind you.

Deep down, a part of him wants to know if there’s something troubling you so he can help you. It’s strange. It’s been a while since he last cared for someone this deeply, but he blames it all on his desire to reimburse you for your kindness, nothing more. Conveniently, he ignores the nascent emotions blooming within, repressing flourishes that take shape in frantic flickers of ruby and rose.

“It was a little too cold tonight,” you sigh, staring down at the ground. “I just couldn’t fall asleep comfortably.”

Kinich lets out a small hum of acknowledgement as the gears in his brain begin to turn, rotating in cycles of contemplation. Perhaps he’ll bring you an extra blanket next time he visits.

“Then why don’t we keep each other company for a while?” Kinich suggests. “It definitely beats being alone.” Kinich is not usually one to actively seek the company of other people, but you’re intriguing to him.

You nod, silently offering your hand to Kinich. It feels like the day you first met all over again, except under much better circumstances. This time, he laces your fingers without hesitation, allowing you to guide him through darkness fragmented only by rays of piercing starlight. He’s not quite sure where you’re leading him, but he knows he’s beginning to trust you a little.

Slowly, your destination becomes clear to Kinich. The two of you draw closer and closer to the cliffside — a spot where pure moonbeams grace the earth with their elegant touch. Kinich tenses slightly, haunting memories from a few weeks prior threatening to resurface above the murky waters of a wounded heart. However, he quells every spark of fear threatening to blaze alight.

He’s safe. Things aren’t the same as they were on that day, and the only other person around is you.

To Kinich’s relief, you settle down a safe distance from the cliff’s edge and pat the spot beside yourself, gesturing for Kinich to follow suit. He wordlessly obliges, simply relishing in the serenity that permeates the atmosphere, nearly tangible as he feels lingering traces of your body heat in the night air.

“Look up,” you whisper, laying a gentle hand on Kinich’s shoulder.

He does as he’s told, and the panoramic sight that greets him is enough to take his breath away. The skies above are the same as ever, yet this is the first time he has truly been able to appreciate their beauty. Kinich studies the constellations that burn with unrivalled luminosity, in awe of their brilliance. Diamond lights burn bright against a backdrop of deep sapphire, each shade of an abyssal ocean waltzing in a whimsical show of wonders.

Before today, he’d always been too busy caring for his mother, too preoccupied with his father’s hysteria, or too melancholy within his own solitude to enjoy anything with an unburdened heart. 

But now everything has changed. He’s free, and he has you now. Yet again, he feels an involuntary smile tug at the corners of his lips, and before he has the chance to think about what all of this means, a shout breaks through the silence.

“A shooting star! Make a wish, Kinich!”

Kinich is more than familiar with wishing. He’s wished for plenty of things in his seven years of life. He’s wished for his father to stop gambling, he’s wished for his mother to come back, and he’s wished for his family to be happy together. Permanently. None of his wishes have ever come true.

But as he looks over at you, he notices hope and a childish innocence glittering in your eyes, manifesting in prismatic tones reflected from the skies above. A sense of warmth washes over him. Kinich sees a kind of purity in you that he wishes he could have clung onto for longer, so he makes a wish, if only to protect and humour you.

“I wish to be able to repay your kindness someday, even if it takes me a lifetime.”

ACT IV.

Throughout the years, Kinich’s debt to you only accumulates.

Word spreads like wildfire after the first few members of the tribe find out about Kinich’s living situation, and unsurprisingly, the news reaches your family as well. Strangers begin to graciously offer Kinich help, yet he always holds them at a distance. Nothing in the world is free, and he knows full well that there are people who conceal ulterior motives behind masks of charity.

There is, however, one exception.

You.

Deep down, Kinich knows that if the universe hadn’t entangled him within its delicate web of fate the day you first met, he would have never trusted you. It was only when he was left with no other options that he allowed you to aid him. He felt your sincerity that day, and although he’s still hesitant at the prospect of placing his wholehearted faith in anyone just yet, he lets you help him with his daily tasks. Kinich enjoys being around you, and a small part of him knows that he wants to be able to believe in you unconditionally.

You always show up early in the mornings, returning time and time again as the first traces of golden brilliance begin to graze the horizon. Kinich begins to find himself looking forward to the sunrise for the first time in his life.

In the past, Kinich would watch the last embers of twilight die out each day, violet enigma enveloped by vivid strokes of peach. He would always dread the day to come. Back then, nearly every waking hour of his life had been tedious and stressful, and thus he could only find respite in the land of the oneiric where dreams and absurdism erased the sorrow of real life.

But nowadays, each new dawn means spending more time with you.

You accompany him on various tasks. From farming to foraging to trading at the market, you’ve almost done it all.

Today’s task, however, requires slightly more precision.

As you set off towards a stretch of open plains with Kinich, you speak jovially, sharing stories from the past without a care in the world. Kinich himself doesn’t speak much. Instead, he listens, trying his best to piece together fragments of a childhood he never got to experience. Seeing your face light up with joy as you recall amusing escapades or confounding situations causes Kinich’s heart to swell slightly.

You only begin to quiet down when you draw near your destination. Kinich already made it abundantly clear that in order to get anything worthwhile from this trip, you need to proceed with the utmost caution.

Although you try your hardest to keep stealth in your step, you find that you’re not nearly as adept as Kinich, who has had years of experience traversing this territory. Occasionally, the sound of leaves crackling and twigs snapping will reach Kinich’s ear, and he’ll catch a glimpse of you stumbling. After a few minutes of painstaking silence interrupted only by the uneven rhythm of clumsy footfalls, Kinich decides to take your hand to steady you.

He tells himself he’s doing it to ensure you don’t scare away his next meal — that he doesn’t want you to mess up and feel guilty. However, behind his icy demeanour woven from years of hardship lies a small part of him that secretly enjoys the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his, the warmth of his palms mingling with yours.

Meticulously, Kinich leads you to a towering bush, its fragile emerald leaves dense enough to conceal an entire person. Its branches sprout out in piercing patterns of disorderly pandemonium, reflecting the true ruggedness of nature in its visage.

“Hide here, and don’t make a noise until I get back,” he whispers, his soft breath tickling the shell of your ear. Your proximity nearly causes shivers to run down Kinich’s spine, but years of practice have taught him to effortlessly conceal all his sentiments. “Watch closely.”

With those parting words, Kinich makes his way into the foliage, clutching a boar trap within his hand. He scans the ground for an optimal spot to place the contraption, finally settling on an area after around a minute of contemplation. As soon as he sets the device down, he leaves as quickly as he entered the area, gracefully making his way back to you without making so much as a noise.

Huddled behind the bush, the two of you watch in anticipation. Now that Kinich has left, wild boars have begun to make their ways out into the open, blissfully grazing, unaware of the peril that lies before them. An unsuspecting boar inches closer and closer to the trap, and Kinich’s breath hitches in anticipation, waiting for it to foolishly take the bait.

However, just as the boar begins to sniff the food laid within cold metallic jaws, you lean forward to get a better look. Kinich doesn’t react fast enough to stop you. Your movement is slight, yet it causes a large disturbance. The leaves of the bush you’re hidden behind rustle, and the boar looks up, its idyllic haze seemingly perturbed.

Without a moment’s hesitation, it turns tail and runs, conveniently kicking fallen debris into the mouth of the trap, snapping it closed with a sharp click. The other wildlife in the area take off as well. A rush of polychromatic wings create shadows overhead as birds fly away, leaving only tufts of delicate feathers behind. Their dissonant cries echo in an ominous ode of precaution, alerting any other living beings in the area that there is danger lurking nearby.

So much for hunting.

Kinich sighs. Looks like it’ll be another few days before he’ll be able to get his hands on some meat. He just lost out on a sizable sum of mora. Now he’ll have to spend more on keeping himself fed over the next few days, he won’t have anything of worth to sell for extra money — and all that goes without even considering the time and resources he just wasted.

“Kinich, I’m so so sorry,” you start, shrinking back a little as your gaze meets his — an unreadable galaxy of jade and peridot, accentuated by intricate borders of copper and gold.

His heart clenches when he realizes that the look you’re regarding him with is one of fear and uncertainty. He doesn’t want you to feel that way, so with an uncharacteristic haste, he reaches out to pat your shoulder.

“No need to apologize,” Kinich reassures you, his words and tone soothing like a marine zephyr on a scorching summer day. “You were just curious.”

Kinich knows he has every right to be angry, but overreacting and directing his rage towards another person is the last thing he’d want to do. He knows better than anyone else the damage of misplaced blame and unwarranted rage.

He knows that normally under such circumstances, it would be most appropriate to calmly ask the other party to pay a sufficient price, but since it’s you, Kinich thinks he can let you off the hook. Just this once.

Mentally, he notes never to take you hunting again.

ACT V.

The flow of time is paradoxical, morphing and bending as seasons change and circumstances shift. In Kinich’s case, the former years of his life seemed to drag on, each harrowing second stretching into eons and millenia, but recently, he has begun to resent the evanescent essence of his days.

It feels like just yesterday, he was that fearful seven-year-old, all alone in the world without a soul to offer him solace. Now he’s sixteen — a little older and a lot wiser. Although the hardships he’s faced have been far from delightful, Kinich has had you by his side throughout it all.

The situation is no different in the present. Another hard day of labour passes as usual, and after hours upon hours of exerting yourselves under the blazing radiance of the sun, Kinich is ready to walk you home with a bag of today’s spoils.

However, as the two of you prepare for the journey ahead, ashen clouds begin to roll in, overtaking the pristine azure that once painted the sky. The light overhead starts to die out, fading at an agonizing swift pace. Although Kinich has safely escorted you home during minor storms before, he has a feeling today will be different. Something about the petrichor that floods his senses feels like a premonition, a warning of disasters to come, and the atmosphere is electrifying.

“We’d better get going if we want to make it before it starts pouring,” you chuckle lightheartedly, seemingly unperturbed. You only begin to look concerned when Kinich doesn’t respond, his mind clouded with a daze of rumination. Upon seeing your features morph into an expression of concern, Kinich finally snaps out of his trance.

“You should stay the night instead.” The confused look you shoot his way causes a wave of awkwardness to wash over the ambience, yet Kinich continues to elaborate. “I have a bad feeling about the incoming storm. It feels different.”

“I wouldn’t want to burden you though,” you protest. “If we leave quickly, everything will probably be okay.”

Kinich shakes his head.

“You’re not a burden at all,” he whispers. “You’ve spent your precious time helping me. The least I could do is ensure your safety and offer my home as a refuge.”

Despite Kinich’s reassurances, you continue to refute his statements.

“But I really don’t think staying over is necessary. If you’re worried about walking back alone in a storm, you don’t need to accompany me. I’ll be okay. Promise.”

You turn away from Kinich, ready to set off. A rush of panic sends daggers of serrated trepidation to his soul. It’s unlike Kinich to lose his cool, and although he maintains a serene facade, the unsettling feeling that has been permeating his senses this entire time begins bubbling to the surface, each potential tragedy rushing through his mind in a frenzied series of what-ifs.

Without thinking, Kinich catches your wrist in his fingers, maintaining a loose grip.

“Don’t go,” he utters. He despises the vulnerability that laces his tone, but he’s more desperate than ever.

Kinich has already lost both his parents. The mere notion of losing you too is unbearable. If the storm really ends up being as intense as he predicts, he knows that muddy cliffsides, discombobulating spirals of sharp crystalline raindrops, and blinding flashes of lightning will all make for an incredibly disadvantageous situation. For a brief second, his mind flashes back to the way his father had passed, but he swiftly represses those thoughts, pushing them back into a seldom-visited corner of his mind.

When Kinich’s gaze meets yours, your expression softens. He can feel your resolve fading.

“Alright, fine,” you sigh. “You’re lucky my family has full confidence in your ability to protect me, otherwise they’d go ballistic if I didn’t come home.”

Just as you finally agree to Kinich’s proposition, the sensation of frosted drops of water prickles at his skin. The storm has begun. With haste, he pulls you indoors, quickly shutting the door to keep all the unwanted rain out.

The two of you wait it out, speaking leisurely as if nature isn’t erupting into chaos all around you. When you’re together, it feels like nothing else exists. Without a clear view of the sun in the sky, Kinich is unsure of how much time passes, but after a while, he notices that a haze of exhaustion begins to elicit yawns from you.

“Tired? You should get some sleep,” Kinich hums nonchalantly. The ambience feels tranquil, and despite the peril just outside the walls of his home, Kinich feels at ease.

You move to lie down on a dilapidated couch in the middle of the cramped living room, but Kinich immediately protests. He knows you’ll inevitably start to feel cold or uncomfortable, and that’s the last thing he wants you to experience as an honoured guest within his abode.

“Don’t sleep out here. You’ll freeze.”

Kinich takes your hand, and you allow him to pull you up. He leads you to another room — his room. For the most part, it’s barren, but Kinich watches as your eyes land on a small collection of items sitting atop an aged drawer beside his bed. Memorabilia from your various years together line the edges of dull wood — birthday gifts, trinkets that reminded you of him, and short notes of appreciation. He watches as a subtle grin etches itself into your features as embarrassment and admiration wash over him.

“You kept all this?” Slight surprise lines your tone as you pose your rhetorical question.

Kinich nods, unsure of how to elaborate. Even he’s not completely sure as to why he stores all the keepsakes you’ve ever presented him so meticulously. All he knows is that they’re important to him. You’re important to him.

“That’s sweet,” you mumble, leaning over to examine everything more closely. Your eyes linger on each object, memories flashing in their depths.

Kinich feels his heart flutter.

You spend a few minutes poring over the items and recollections of the past before finally retiring to bed. Kinich watches as you pull the covers over yourself, and he ensures you’re comfortable before turning to leave.

This time, however, it’s your turn to encircle your fingers around his arm, prompting him to stay.

“Where are you going?” you inquire, gazing up at Kinich curiously.

“Back to the living room,” he replies, gently twisting his wrist, loosening your grip.

“You said it was cold though.”

Kinich shrugs. “I don’t mind as long as you’re comfortable.”

“What if I think I’d be more comfortable with you by my side?”

Kinich tenses, and for a second, his brain malfunctions, barely processing the intent of your words. He comes to the realization that he’s not opposed to the idea. Besides, it was logical; it would help the two of you stay warm for the night.

“As long as you’re happy,” he mumbles, looking anywhere but into your eyes. Slowly, he begins to climb into bed beside you, cramming his limbs to one side in order to ensure you have enough personal space. Kinich feels unusually tense, and his heartbeat starts to spike in a melody of frantic sentiments as he begins to sense your body heat radiating from the other side of the bed.

Although Kinich tries to calm himself, it’s to no avail, especially when you shift over slightly, entangling your fingers with his. Your eyes flutter shut, and sleep pulls you under, lulling you into a whimsical land of nonsensical wonders. As frantic as the contact makes Kinich feel, he can’t bring himself to pry his hand from your grasp. The feeling of your fingers laced together is not an unpleasant sensation.

So with his hand in yours, Kinich falls asleep, and for the first night in his life, he experiences a truly restful slumber. His last thought before the tides of exhaustion drag him off to an ocean of reverie is how despite his unusual nerves, he wouldn’t mind doing this again.

And when Kinich comes to the next morning, he’s met with the most ethereal sight of his life. Early morning light blooms through the windows, tinting every corner of the room an aureate shade. The brilliance of the sun is utopia compared to the tumultuous conditions of last night, and as Kinich looks over at you, he notices the peace and content instilled within every dip and curve of your face.

You’re angelic, and the feeling of you by his side is just so right.

When Kinich comes to terms with the fact that he wants to wake up to the sight of your soft smile every single day, he finally realizes the true significance of the emotions he’s harboured towards you for years.

He’s in love.

ACT VI.

It isn’t often that you go to the market without Kinich by your side. The two of you are more or less a package deal, so when you show up alone, equipped with a small pouch of mora and without your most trusted companion, you immediately notice the whispers that follow.

“Do you think something happened to Kinich?”

“Maybe he got offered a commission that he deemed more worthy of his time.”

“Are you kidding me? Nothing is more important to Kinich than [name] — not even mora!”

The speculations range from reasonable to absolutely implausible, and in all honesty, you have no idea what Kinich is doing at the moment. All you can do is tune everything out and focus on your objective: finding a suitable friendship anniversary gift for Kinich.

Ever since Kinich became a saurian hunter and started taking commissions, you’ve been spending less and less time together. However, he’s always accompanied you to the market, helping you weigh each cost with the utmost precision. Although you’re rarely thrilled by the fact that he’s busier with his own affairs now, today is one of the few times where it works to your advantage. You want to surprise him with something special, and the absence of his presence will ensure that nothing is spoiled before the right time comes.

As you browse the goods sold by an elderly vendor, you feel a tug on the hem of your clothing. Upon looking down, you find yourself greeted by two familiar faces — Huni and Toba.

“Hey, little ones,” you say, grinning at the two children gazing at you with wide eyes. “Is something the matter?”

Huni nods furiously, Toba mimicking her actions just seconds later. You stifle a giggle. In a way, the two remind you of you and Kinich when you were younger — virtually conjoined.

“We were wondering if Kinich was okay,” Toba responds, nervously clasping his hands together.

“Ah,” you breathe out, finding yourself faced with expectant stares from all around. You can tell that prying eyes and ears have been trained on you, eager for any semblance of gossip. “Why does everyone seem to think something’s up with Kinich today?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Huni giggles, barely able to conceal her glee. “Everyone knows he follows you everywhere because the two of you are together.”

Toba nudges Huni lightly, his gaze becoming the slightest bit pointed as he reprimands her in a hushed tone. “Huni! You weren’t supposed to say that.”

You pause for a few seconds, thinking over the implications of Huni’s statement. Surely you misheard. Surely you’re just misinterpreting the girl’s words. Surely no one actually thinks you and Kinich are a couple, right?

“Excuse me, what?” you blurt out. No other words come to mind at the moment, as you’re too shocked to muster any coherent thought. “Kinich and I are what?”

“Together,” Huni states simply. “A couple. Totally head-over-heels for each other.”

A frown clouds your features as your muscles tense. You and Kinich are nothing more than friends, and although you’re extremely close — nearly abnormally so — you’ve never even discussed the possibility of being anything more. Why does everyone around you suddenly seem to think you’re in love?

Perhaps your confusion is evident because Huni continues to elaborate in excruciating detail.

“You should see the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching — it’s like his eyes fill with the light of a thousand stars. Oh, he also always asks the shopkeepers if anything’s caught your eye recently whenever you’re distracted, and…”

You tune out Huni’s tangent about you and Kinich, the thoughts in your mind coming to a halt temporarily to protect yourself from the onslaught of confounding claims being made. It feels like complete blankness engulfs your mind as you remain frozen in place, each fleeting moment feeling more comparable to an eternity. The more you dwell on Huni’s assumption, the more you realize you don’t mind envisioning yourself with Kinich.

You’re only pulled out of your mental retreat when a familiar voice rings out through the discord of marketplace conversations.

“[Name],” Kinich greets you. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here today.”

To your relief, Toba drags Huni off as Kinich approaches, frantically trying to ensure that she doesn’t say anything more in front of the saurian hunter himself. You feel a sense of momentary relief, but now that Kinich is here, what are you going to do about his present?

“Yeah, I had some free time today and wanted to check out some of the new goods. It’s been about a week since I’ve come by.”

Unsurprisingly Kinich doesn’t look convinced. Doubt swirls in a faint starlight glimmer within irises of fern and honeyed sunbeams. He knows you like the back of his own hand.

“What’s really going on?” he asks, a hint of concern entangled in his tone. He watches you intently, awaiting your answer. His eyes narrow ever-so-slightly.

Busted. Although you would have much preferred keeping your gift to Kinich a surprise, you figure it’s still better to ensure he doesn’t worry that you’ve been roped into doing suspicious business. You know from experience that Kinich tends to take drastic measures when he thinks you’re in danger, and you’d rather not have him go to such lengths over nothing.

“You know how our friendship anniversary is coming up?” you explain.

A look of realization flashes across Kinich’s features. Before he can speak, a grating voice that you’ve been hearing more often in recent times interrupts.

“So my lowly servant and his pesky idiot of a companion had the same idea,” Ajaw cackles, appearing from behind Kinich. You try your best to stifle an exasperated groan. “Maybe you really are meant to be — after all, you share one collective brain cell!”

You glare at Ajaw, and Kinich sighs, nonchalantly raising an arm to send Ajaw off to solitary confinement.

“Sorry about that. Ajaw’s been acting up more than usual since the last time I put him in timeout,” Kinich says.

You chuckle before a realization suddenly hits you.

“Wait, Ajaw said you were here for the same reason as me,” you speak hesitantly. “Were you getting me a gift too?” The way Kinich averts his gaze as you ask your question nearly elicits more giggles from you.

“Looks like we caught each other at the worst time,” Kinich sighs.

You nod in agreement, and although you’re slightly disappointed you couldn’t have kept your secret mission inconspicuous, you find the corners of your lips turning up in a smile. There’s a strange sort of comfortable humour in the situation that you only experience around Kinich.

“Since we’re both here anyway, we might as well go shopping together,” you hum, taking Kinich’s hand and dragging him off. Maybe people will stop bothering you now that Kinich is by your side again.

You wander with Kinich, gaze flitting over various items on display. However, despite all your searching, nothing quite piques your interests. It’s not until rose and clematis scatter themselves across the sky in a brilliant display of mosaic-esque shards that something finally catches your eye.

On a small table tucked within an obscure corner of the marketplace sits two matching bracelets, delicate stars engraved into opulent charms hanging from each one. The woven threads of each accessory look intricately-crafted to the point where even the finer details appear flawless.

They’re beautiful, but more importantly, they remind you of that night more than a decade ago where Kinich had wished upon a star for the first time in years. They remind you of the night where Kinich found hope once more. That’s what seals the deal for you.

“Excuse me, Ms. Vendor. I’ll take the two bracelets.”

ACT VII.

No one takes death seriously until it comes knocking at their door.

Kinich comes to the realization as he trembles on the battlefield of the Night Warden Wars, his bones aching and his joints ready to give up on him. He’s exhausted, and all he wants to do is close his eyes and allow the frigid touch of death to kiss away the last remnants of warmth from his soul. However, relenting would mean admitting defeat.

Relenting would mean never seeing you again.

(And that’s the last thing he wants.)

Everyone lives as if their time is unlimited — as if tomorrow is guaranteed to come. Humans tend to assume the future is a never-ending tale, a novel with no finale, so they continuously delay, waiting and waiting and waiting because they believe they still have many years ahead of them to wrap up their affairs.

Kinich realizes all too late that he has been ensnared within the same folly. As he remains slumped on the ground, clutching at his bleeding chest, a sense of deep regret washes over him.

He never got to tell you that he loved you.

Even after all these years, Kinich has never been able to bring himself to utter those words — not even once — and now, he’ll pay the price for his hesitation. A small part of him has always been too cowardly to cross the line from friendship into the uncharted territory of something more. 

Kinich hardly knows much pertaining to love, but from what little he’s seen in his former years of life, he knows it’s a double-edged sword — a smoldering flame of passion that burns with unparalleled brilliance. But when a roaring blaze grows too intense, it consumes all, leaving nothing but ashes and tears.

His parents had been in love at some point. Kinich recalls the times where his father would embrace his mother after handing her a breathtaking bouquet of flowers, his lips brushing across her bruised cheek with a rare sweetness. In those moments, Kinich’s father would whisper words of affirmation to his mother — promises and saccharine reassurances that would always remain unfulfilled.

Yet more often than not, their “love” consisted of domestic quarrels, the shattering of glassware against the walls of a derelict house or the slap of a hand across blemished skin. Love had destroyed them, and Kinich’s worst fear is the thought of your relationship falling apart.

So he’s maintained an ample distance throughout the years, keeping you at arm’s length to ensure nothing goes wrong. He’s always been by your side, close enough to share embers of his love yet not close enough to burn you, and now his caution is returning to haunt him.

Kinich is going to die before he has the chance to confess his true feelings.

As much as he wills himself to stay conscious, his eyelids begin to grow heavy, threatening to flutter shut for the last time. The sweet sensation of death threatens to lull Kinich into an eternal slumber, luring him in with a deceptively-tantalizing siren song, filled with promises of peace and an end to his suffering. A sense of fear grips Kinich as his life begins slipping away. He’s not ready to die. There’s so much he still wants to experience with you.

A million thoughts race through his mind before his imminent demise.

He thinks of Ajaw, who would be free to catalyze the implosion of the seven nations without Kinich around. As cruel as fate has been to him, Kinich doesn’t want the world to burn.

He thinks of his comrades — fallen warriors who had fought valiantly until they no longer had the strength to go on. They deserve to be revered and honoured, not lost to the sands of time.

And he thinks of you. His everything.

The weight of the star bracelet you had gifted him starts feeling a lot heavier. When you purchased it, you had told him it brought back recollections from one of the best days of your life, adding that you hoped you’d make many more precious memories in the future.

Kinich can’t let you down now.

A wish flickers to life within the depths of his soul, desperately manifesting in shades of emerald and rich forest green. Resplendent viridescent tourmaline glints by his chest where there had once been a gaping wound, fueling Kinich with revived vigor. Kinich feels rejuvenated, and with his newfound strength, he stands, preparing to face another onslaught of abyssal attacks.

This time he’s ready, and he’ll stop at nothing until he purges every last enemy.

Kinich is determined to fight — for Natlan, for his comrades, and most importantly, for you.

ACT VIII.

When a hero returns from war, they are typically met with the relieved faces of their loved ones and an outpouring of affection. However, Kinich finds that neither of these things welcome him upon his arrival home. Instead, he is greeted by the sight of an exasperated frown on your face and vitreous tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

“You’re so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! I can’t believe you almost got yourself killed!” You continue to ramble on, your words amalgamating in a panicked jumble of incoherence as Kinich wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a warm embrace. Ever since Kinich told you what happened during the Night Warden Wars, you’ve been distraught.

To his relief, he feels the tension within your body dissipate as the proximity between the two of you gradually dwindles. With your face finally hidden from view, you allow your teardrops to flow freely down your cheeks in bittersweet rivulets; Kinich can tell from the way his clothing seems to dampen. Absent-mindedly, Kinich traces circles on your back, calmly running through cycles upon cycles to ground you.

“Sorry,” is all Kinich can muster, his throat feeling parched under the scrutiny of your glare as you pull away to shoot him a nasty look. There’s so much more he wants to say to you, but he can’t find the strength to put any of it into words. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

You scoff, your tone nearly sardonic in nature, yet beneath it all, Kinich can sense how much you missed him —- how terrified you were that you would never see him again.

“Is that all you have to say?” you ask. “You nearly died, Kinich. I nearly lost you.”

The lines of your facial features, once creased in irritation, soften, giving way to vulnerability.

“I know,” he sighs, shivering as resignation chills him to the bone. He hates the fact that you’re right. Kinich reaches out to caress your cheek, gently wiping a tear in the process. “I’m still here though.”

“That doesn’t guarantee the same thing won’t happen in the future,” you choke out between hushed sobs. “What if next time you actually…”

Before you can go on, Kinich presses a finger to your lips, effectively silencing you. For a few seconds, he simply allows you to lose yourself within the comfort of his arms. He needs you to process the fact that he’s tangible, breathing, alive, before he says anything more. Kinich waits for your ragged gasps to even out before speaking.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, moving a hand to lace your fingers together.

You nod furiously, eyeing Kinich suspiciously through your sorrowful display of emotions.

“Then believe me when I say I’ll always return to you,” Kinich whispers softly.

Moments go by before you hesitantly respond.

“Fine.”

Kinich isn’t one to break promises. Ending a contract unceremoniously leads to mounting costs and debt, so he tends to avoid obliging to tasks he considers impossible. Perhaps that’s why you relent so easily. You know Kinich would never go back on his word — especially not if it has anything to do with you.

“I’m still expecting you to make it up to me though. I was unbelievably worried.”

“Sure thing,” Kinich replies, his voice breezy and nonchalant once more.

Just let me hold you for a little while longer first.

ACT IX.

Adrenaline courses through Kinich’s veins, fueling him with an urgent sort of determination. He races the wind, desperately trying to transcend nature itself. He’s always been quick, but right now, he’s not sure he’ll be quick enough.

You could be in danger.

If Kinich had known that there had been a surge in abyssal activity within the territory of the People of the Springs, he would have never let you accompany Mualani and the Traveler on their excursion; he wouldn’t have sent Ajaw away on a special mission in the dead of night in an attempt to seek some peace and quiet either. However, Kinich only found out a mere hour ago, and now he’s scrambling to reach you without the aid of his flying companion.

Kinich knows very well that he could arrive just to find that nothing serious is going on, but the thought of not being by your side to protect you in the case that something actually does happen glazes his soul over into a thousand fractals of crystalline fear.

That’s why he runs with as much haste as he can muster, guided by gilded lights reflected in untamed waters, their glow casting a luminous sheen across the wavering ocean surface. As Kinich draws closer, he senses a feeling of foreboding in the air, charging his surroundings with the essence of an ominous premonition.

And then he hears it — an ear-shattering scream.

No matter how much Kinich’s legs scream for respite, he rushes on. With every step, his pace only accelerates. The sole thought on his mind is getting to you in time.

When he finally reaches the village, pandemonium is the first thing to make his acquaintance. Warriors from the tribe fiercely attempt to fend off the incoming assault on their homeland, parrying the attacks of each monstrous entity with precision developed throughout years of rigorous training. Kinich knows they’re skilled at fighting. He trusts them, so instead of delaying, he rushes to more secluded corners of the town, fending off any monsters lurking around the outskirts in the hopes that he’ll run into you on the way.

He swings his claymore as if it's instinct, warding off all peril as he desperately searches the din of discombobulating havoc for any sign of you. His first potential lead comes in the form of a cerulean blur, followed closely by a flash of gold — two of Kinich’s few friends. Before Kinich can call their names, they’re already out of earshot. However, as he turns away to continue his search, a small fairy-esque creature barrels into him, swaying slightly as a ferocious gale attempts to send her flying into disarray.

Kinich reacts quickly, his body working faster than his brain. With ease, he snatches the entity from the sky, effectively pulling her out of harm’s way.

“Hello, Paimon,” Kinich says, fighting to keep his tone neutral. With great difficulty, he suppresses all the anxiety, facing Paimon without betraying so much as a hint of emotion. Truthfully, he’s a wreck on the inside.

“Kinich!” Paimon exclaims, her high-pitched voice cutting through the cacophony of noise ringing out in the turbulent night. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for [name]. Have you seen them around?”

Kinich doesn’t realize he’s holding in his breath until he hears Paimon’s response. A small gasp slips past his lips.

“Um, last Paimon heard, they were heading to the east part of the village. There were some kids playing there earlier without supervision.”

Of course. Kinich should have known you were off helping others. You had always been willing to lend a hand to those in need, even when you first met Kinich. It was one of your many traits that charmed him all those years ago.

“Thank you, Paimon,” Kinich says, trying his best to keep a building sense of dread at bay. “You should catch up with the Traveler now.”

“See you soon, Kinich,” Paimon chirps before zipping away.

Now that he’s alone, Kinich finally allows the panic to set in. With even more fervour than before, he speeds off in your direction, grasping at various ledges with his grappling hook to move quicker. Kinich is all but weightless, akin to a delicate feather drifting through the breeze. However, it’s still not enough.

You’re cornered and alone when he finally spots you, backed to a wall as two beastly hounds eye you hungrily, sparks of violet electricity igniting in their irises. Just as Kinich figures that the kids have been brought to safety, one of the creatures lets out a guttural roar, a horrific sound unlike anything from this world. You cower in response. Time seems to slow as Kinich watches the abomination extend its claws, ready to rip into you without mercy.

Before he can spare another thought, Kinich’s body reacts. He flings himself through the air, landing precariously fast and skidding along the grass. As he starts slowing to a stop in front of you, he swings his claymore, countering the abyssal wolf’s attack.

Kinich shields you. No matter how perilous the situation becomes, he knows he will need to remain steadfast and resolute.

As the dust settles, you finally catch a glimpse of Kinich. He hears you call his name, feels your hand brush against his shoulder, and senses you shuffling next to him.

However, danger still lurks before you, so with one hand, Kinich lightly shoves you back, taking caution to ensure you won’t end up injured.

“Let me handle this,” he says, extending an arm to prevent you from taking another step forward. He changes his stance and faces the hounds head-on.

The monsters prepare to attack again, and Kinich takes it as a sign to charge forth, swinging his claymore with as much force as he can manage. Although the beasts are fearsome, Kinich lands blow after blow, gradually weakening them with each hit. The only thing on his mind right now is his desire to protect — to save you like you saved him all those years ago.

Kinich allows his instincts to take over, relying on the battle experience he’s accumulated to guide him through the abyssal skirmish. Suddenly he feels as though he’s back in the Night Warden Wars, fighting with all his heart to ensure he’d see you again. His resolve steels, and with one final strike of his weapon, he dispels all danger, banishing the hounds before him to the precarious realm from whence they came.

As soon as Kinich has ensured that the situation has settled, he turns back to inquire about your wellbeing. However, before a single word can slip past his lips, you run up to him and collapse in his arms, trembling like a leaf within a harrowing autumn squall.

“You’re safe now,” he whispers, his breath tickling your ear. Kinich holds you tighter, his grip so secure that even death wouldn’t be able to pry you from his grasp. “I’ve got you.”

“I was so scared… that I’d never see you again,” you gasp between shaky breaths, your panic slowly beginning to dissipate.

Kinich feels a lump in his throat and a pang in his chest. He knows better than anyone how you must have felt, what you were thinking as you lived out what you thought were your last moments. He was in your exact situation once, and all he can recall is his final plea to Celestia — his wish to return home to the welcoming sight of your radiant visage at least once more.

“I couldn’t die before I told you that,” you hesitate, your words catching in your throat, “before I told you that I loved you.”

Kinich’s breath hitches. His body freezes, and his surroundings become all but null. Maybe you really are telepathically linked because that had been his exact thought as he felt his life ebbing away during the Night Warden Wars, ascending to a divine plane in chapters of fragile mortality.

“You love me?” Kinich breathes out. In the mayhem, all is momentarily forgotten as blissful euphoria overtakes his heart, sending zephyrs of rose-tinted elation through his mind. After an eternity of waiting, Kinich finally realizes his feelings are reciprocated. “I love you too.”

The look on your face softens as sensibility and coherency begin to overtake you once more, but before you can return Kinich’s affections, dissonant screams and crashes shatter your transient utopia.

Right. You’re still in the midst of chaos.

“Do you know where the Traveler and Mualani were headed?” Kinich questions you urgently, recoiling slightly as he ruins the moment. He hates the fact that he’ll have to push aside the implications of your confession for now, but at the moment, people’s lives are still in danger.

You nod vigorously.

“I’ll take you over to them and then head back to the village to assist in resolving the crisis. We can talk more tonight.”

ACT X.

The festivities of the People of the Springs stretch well past midnight that evening, celebrating the triumph of their heroes and the recovery of the esteemed warrior Atea. Lively melodies ring out in the refreshing night air, filling the evening with songs of invigorating joy and glorious victory. Even from atop a cliff overlooking everything, the warm atmosphere still engulfs you. Although you had stayed for the commencement of the party, you and Kinich eventually decided to retire to a slightly more secluded area to pick up your conversation from earlier.

“So,” you start, your nerves beginning to flare up in a culmination of resplendent flames, “where do we start?” Subconsciously, you begin to toy with your fingers, and you don’t notice until Kinich stops you, taking your hand in his.

“Well first things first, we know we love each other,” he states, looking into your eyes. Ardor dances within his gaze, making itself at home between brilliant murals of malachite and topaz. The way moonlight catches in his irises, illuminating his features with a certain softness, makes your heart melt.

Now that Kinich no longer has to hold back, his immense love for you becomes tremendously apparent. As he traces circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, you realize that even the silences are adorned with gentle reminders of his feelings for you.

“It seems so obvious now,” you laugh lightly. “I wonder why we didn’t end up confessing sooner.”

Kinich hums nonchalantly, averting his eyes for just a second before turning back to you.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I was scared?” Kinich asks.

Amusement graces his features as you shake your head. Nowadays, Kinich is usually so calm — so composed — never allowing his demeanour to betray even the slightest hint of distress. From hunting saurians to extreme sports to tolerating Ajaw’s creative threats all the time, Kinich has endured everything with a brave face, but now you’re starting to realize that perhaps he isn’t quite as fearless as he appears.

“What were you scared of?” you inquire, tilting your head slightly to examine Kinich.

A pause ensues as Kinich mulls over his response, mentally preparing himself to pour out his heart. He’s not used to it, but he’s ready to start trying for you.

“Ruining the best thing life has ever given me,” he whispers. “You know you’re everything to me, right?”

You’re breathless as you stare at Kinich. The pure emotion behind his words is enough to widen your grin. Your heart feels like it’s ready to pulse out of your chest, speeding up in a grand accelerando and growing louder in a magnificent crescendo.

Everything is perfect.

Everything is as it should be when you’re with him.

This is your flawless elysium.

“May I?” You cup Kinich’s face with one hand, leaning towards him. Your gaze falls on his lips, and you hear him breath in softly.

Kinich nods, reciprocating your actions as he bridges the gap between you.

Time seems to slow as your lips meet in an incandescent flash of effulgent sparks. The night gleams in shades of starlight and utopia, illuminating the moment with a brilliance that encapsulates nothing less than pure love. Perhaps your souls have been intertwined since the beginning, or perhaps destiny pulled some strings to bring the two of you together, but you’re absolutely certain that from this moment on, you would only part in death.

As you pull away from Kinich, a strange smile adorns his features. Before you can question him, he speaks.

“I finally repaid you,” he says, “after all this time.”

You laugh. He’s still worrying about that?

“Thank you, love, but it doesn’t matter to me anymore,” you respond. A part of you finds it endearing that he’s still trying to make things even after your countless seasons together, yet you feel obligated to reassure him he never has to reimburse you again.

Kinich gazes at you inquisitively.

“There’s no debt between lovers, silly — only pure adoration and happiness.”

FIN. tysm for taking the time to read this fic <3

[ethanthealien]

Things That Hurt When You Have Fibromyalgia That Should Not Hurt:

Blood pressure cuffs when doctors take your blood pressure.

A simple poke from someone else, especially on the tender points

Tripping over something - only mildly, not a bad trip. I trip over things and it hurts like a Bitch.

If I accidentally graze my arm or my body against a wall a bit or something, it also hurts like a Bitch. Again, I'm not talking about badly, I'm not being pushed into a wall or something.

Standing. Just for a few seconds. I actually don't know for sure if this is really a part of my fibromyalgia or actually normal for everyone. But it really fucking hurts to stand for even a few seconds.

Walking for even just an hour hurts. And the longer I walk, the worse it hurts.

The simple act of. Cooking. It hurts to hold the pots/pans, especially with one hand. I can't really lift pans/pots because I'm weak, but also it just Hurts. It hurts to mix things in the pots/pans.

(Others can feel free to add on).

Common Descriptions Of Pain When You Have Fibromyalgia:

Feeling like your whole body is bruised, or some parts of your body.

"Feels like I was in a car crash"

Stiffness, throbbing, aching, soreness, tenderness, fatigue. Your body feels exhausted, and not even necessarily that YOU feel tired, but your body feels tired.

"Feels like being stabbed with a knife"

"Like someone has taken a hammer and hammered all over my body"

"Like I'm hungover"

"Like I ran a marathon"

"Like perpetually having the flu", "Like you have a fever constantly"

“It feels like I’ve been carrying two huge buckets of water that I can’t put down.”

"Like I did a full body workout"

(Amongst many other descriptions)

Common Habits I've Developed Throughout My Life As A Result Of Having Fibromyalgia:

Constantly leaning against walls and frequently switching which foot I'm leaning on more.

Asking people if they wanted to sit down, or if they wanted a chair to sit down somewhere, because I thought they were in pain too. Them declining and me thinking "but doesn't it hurt to stand?? You've been standing for like 15 minutes, aren't you in pain??" They are not.

Constantly sitting down, and/or wanting to sit down, wishing I had a place to sit down.

Not really a habit, but I always end up freaking out a bit when I worry that I've hurt someone. I realized that I would constantly apologize to my girlfriend because I thought I hurt her accidentally (very mild things I mean, I'm not saying I fucking punch him or some shit lmfao), only for her to be confused and say that it didn't hurt. It takes conscious effort to remember that what hurts me does not hurt most other people without fibromyalgia or a different chronic pain condition.

I've had fibromyalgia for pretty much my entire life.

I believed that these things were normal for everyone.

I would look at people and watch how they'd do things like simply lifting up a box or the ways people talk about walking for hours just for fun and just not understand why they were doing it because that hurts?

Growing up, when my brother would ""lightly"" punch me, or my dad would poke me, etc., it always hurt really bad, and my brother shamed me (my brother was severely abusive in many ways, yes) and would go "oh my God, please, you're being dramatic, I didn't even punch you/poke you hard at all." I truly don't think he WAS punching me that hard, I just had fibromyalgia so it hurt like twenty times worse (I'm not excusing his behavior, by the way, I'm just explaining that things that would hurt somebody with fibromyalgia wouldn't hurt most other people without it).

I grew up constantly wishing that I could float so that I didn't have to walk or stand.

I was always aware that I had certain spots around my body that felt much more painful than other parts of my body, such as the sides of my arms, my hips, etc. I also just figured this was how it is for everyone.

If you relate to anything this post, I definitely suggest seeing a rheumatologist or a neurologist (I was diagnosed by a rheumatologist) and finding out the cause of your pain.

None of these things are "normal."

[shiroxichigo]

Ichigo gets a lot of shit (typically from outside of the Bleach fandom) for being a character whose wants/goals never change from beginning to end of his series. He always wants to protect people (and even though I could argue that he went from only wanting to protect those close to him to wanting to protect everyone he can, that's not the point I'm making with this post).

I think a lot of people who only give Bleach a passing glance fail to see Ichigo's true character growth. It's not about what his goals are or who he's trying to protect, but rather, it's about how he achieves it.

Ichigo is very self-sacrificing in the first third of Bleach. He believes that if the mission is successful, then it doesn't matter how broken or close to death he gets. The mission, saving Rukia (and hurting/killing as few people in the process), is all that matters.

Then, when a part of himself (his inner hollow) emerges, and says "hey yeah no, I'm not letting you get yourself killed and I'm also not letting you hold back against your enemy", Ichigo immediately rejects it.

It's not until he defeats his inner Hollow that we see Ichigo really dive into a fight with the intent to kill. The problem is, once his Hollow is defeated, he thinks that's it. He's freed himself of that part of him and he can go back to being self-sacrificing.

We see this throughout the Hueco Mundo arc. It's why saving Orihime parallels saving Rukia. Ichigo naively thinks he can suppress a part of himself. He bottles it up until it explodes, coming back to haunt him in his fight with Ulquiorra, etc. He learns that side of himself isn't so easily tucked away, and if he recklessly endangers himself, he could end up endangering his friends too. At his own hand, no less.

Then Ichigo discovers he can commit the ultimate sacrifice. Final Getsuga Tenshou. He can throw away these powers and the parts of himself that he doesn't like, and he can get rid of Aizen all in one go. He's lucky that it worked, but only because Kisuke was there.

Then, once Ichigo is powerless, he learns that's not what he really wants. Life doesn't "go back to normal". The can is open, and there's danger out there beyond just Aizen. And Ichigo can't do anything to stop it unless he gets his powers back.

So he does. Then he cuts down the threat to his friends and family. And he doesn't hesitate this time. Yes, he still has compassion for his enemies (he even goes to the Soul Society to ask for Ginjo's body so he can give him a proper burial), but he's learned not to hold back and he's learned that new threats will appear and he'd rather have the power to face them head on.

So then comes TYBW, and Ichigo is facing battles head-on without hesitation. He goes straight to the "bad guys" with the intention of cutting them down. He learns the truth about who his Inner Hollow is, and he accepts it. He's even willing to accept whatever consequences may come from training in the Royal Palace and becoming stronger. He accepts his power and potential fully, and learns that he has what it takes to protect his loved ones with his strength, and not with a sacrifice.

Ultimately, he heals the part of himself that thinks his life is worth less than other people's. He heals the part of himself that blames himself for not protecting his mother (when he was 9!! Like come on Isshin, put the kid in therapy!! Anyway...) He grows into someone who knows his self worth. And I think, for me at least, that makes him one of my favourite protagonists of all time. Because can't most of us relate to feeling worthless at times? And don't we also wanna overcome that?

Thanks for reading my ramble lmao, I'm sure this could have been more elegantly written but I'm very sleepy and just wanted to get my thoughts out there.

[ellsarchive]

Theo Nott Headcannons!! *.•

*.-{{ellsarchive}}-.*

Rebelogs are appreciated <3!!

Either sleeps for at least half of the day or never sleeps at all. This man has never had a normal nights sleep.

—> once, the Slytherins won the house cup. I kid you not when I tell you he didn’t sleep for two days and then slept for 20 hours straight.

Has never been angry in English

—> stubs his toe? Italian. Betrayed? Italian. Someone acting up? ITALIAN.

His arm WILL be around you at all times times whether you like it or not. Whether that’s an arm around your shoulders as you walk through the halls, a hand on your waist when you sit together, or arms wrapped around you as you sleep, is for you to find out.

Actually very loyal when in a relationship, but if he’s hung up on you whilst single he’s the most promiscuous man known to the wizarding world. It’s one of few distractions, in his eyes.

Speaks to you in Italian, saying the words he can’t bring himself to tell you in a way you’ll understand (assuming you don’t speak the language).

He knew he was in love when he found himself scribbling words on to a paper, his quill seeming to know nothing but your name and the way his soul screams it.

—> he’s never considered himself much of a writer. He took up the hobby after falling for you.

His mother taught him to play the piano as a child.

I wouldn’t say he “didn’t believe in love” before you, moreso he wasn’t sure if it was made for him. If he was meant for it. You made him feel so wrong.

Struggles with depression, it gets especially worse when his dad reaches out more.

He cried in the washroom when you took him to meet your parents.

—> your dad loved you despite you taking different paths than him, and your mother is still there. There’s nothing more to ask for. ‘Maybe that’s why he turned out him and you turned out you.’

—> Not long after, he received another letter from his father, and found himself crying into your arms for hours. He couldn’t even explain why, but you didn’t ask. You just held him. In that moment, he was sure his mother had brought you to him.

Offers you a smoke whenever he lights one, but not necessarily because he wants you to take it. He just feels wrong if he’s not offering you what he has.

Actually really nice, despite his sarcasm and apparent coldness. That may be who he seems to be, but anyone who bothers to look further will see what lies beneath.

Not necessarily quiet, but the most reserved of the group. Everyone knows him, but barely anyone knows him.

Lwk Noah (the notebook) coded, but in the “Well that's what we do, we fight... You tell me when I am being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you are a pain in the ass. Which you are, 99% of the time. I'm not afraid to hurt your feelings. You have like a 2 second rebound rate, then you're back doing the next pain-in-the-ass thing. So it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard. We're gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, for ever, you and me, every day.” Way.

Reads when he actually has the time, like when the dorms aren’t being used like a frat house and his life actually seems normal. He keeps it to himself, though.

Ended up buying his own first aid kit because you were always in his dorm patching him up.

—> what can he say, though? Mattheo’s always fighting, and he’d be a bad friend not to jump in. Don’t even get him started on when he fights for you, either.

When he fights, no emotion is poured into it. Instead of red hot anger that shoots through his veins and into his knuckles, he’s ice. Face straight as he beats men into the infirmary.

Dresses like if Jacob Elordi, David Beckham, and Brad Pitt had a fashion baby.

Never makes his bed (he’s not leaving it half of the time anyway)

Always says his favourite food is pasta but will DEVOUR a grilled cheese like no other

Loves chocolate chip cookies, holds a particular hatred for oatmeal cookies.

Dreams of people he loves being ripped away from him, and all he can do is beg for it not to happen.

—> sleep talks. Sometimes you’ll hear his faint pleads, and all you can do is hold him tighter and hope it ends soon. You never mention it after because he’d be embarrassed.

A broken, broken boy whose light shines through the breaks in his heart. He’s scared to glue it back together in case it will block out the light, but you’ve made him sure you’ll shine through him no matter what.

“Blue - Billie Eilish”

_.•*

Also please comment recs for a playlist I’m making for him, or if you’d like more! <33

[barcaatthemoon]

respect || alexia putellas x reader ||

You go back to Alexia after taking some space with the hope to reconcile.

You were absolutely fuming. Alexia had a way of acting like a complete dumbass sometimes. What should have been a nice night out with the team turned into something much more complicated. You wanted to have a good time and enjoy yourself, but then Alexia got jealous. She had a bad habit of getting jealous, and you had finally reached your limit.

It had been over a week and a half since the incident, and you were still pissed. You had seen Alexia since then, but you were wildly good at ignoring her at practice. The two of you lived together, but you hadn't been home since that night. Alexia was hurting, and you were also struggling, but you needed to prove your point.

In the time that you'd been away, you had practically flocked to your older sister. Marta loved you, and she would always take care of you, even if it strained her own relationship a little. You and Caroline were pretty close friends, but it was a little overwhelming for her to live with two very outgoing Spanish women. You knew that you were getting close to the end of your stay, even if you weren't quite ready to face Alexia again.

"Nena, I think that it is time you go back home for a bit. Not a single thing you're wearing right now actually belongs to you." There was a teasing lilt to your sister's voice, but you knew that she was serious. Behind her, you could see Caro standing in the hallway. She seemed a bit more anxious than normal, the kind that came with a certain air of guilt. "I can take you back in a bit."

"It's fine, I'll call a cab," you told her. Marta frowned as she watched you pack up your things. She hadn't meant that you had to leave immediately, but you definitely seemed to take it that way. You weren't mad at her, not really, but Marta knew that it would be a good idea to steer clear of you for the rest of the week.

You had always been very passionate, and with that came a lot of different feelings. Marta knew how hard it could be for you to calm down. Something seemingly small would stay with you for so long, and despite all of the work you had done to stop that habit, you could never quite shake it.

Marta sighed as you seemed to be gone before she could really stop you. A part of her wondered if she had made the right decision sending you away so early. She knew that things with Alexia could potentially get much worse, especially if Alexia was mad at you for stepping away for so long. Marta hadn't ever seen the two of you fight, but she had been there to pick up some of the pieces in the aftermath. Things between you and Alexia were generally pretty good, even if both of you were beyond stubborn.

Alexia's car was gone when your ride dropped you off. Your car was in the garage, so Alexia always parked hers outside, despite it being the nicer vehicle. It was just one of the many things that Alexia did to take care of you. You could be a bit tempermental, but Alexia always tried her hardest to take care of you. It wasn't a good thought, but slowly, you began to wonder if you'd be able to find someone else who was willing to do that.

"Why are you sitting outside? You're getting burned," Alexia said as she ran over towards you. For a moment, you thought she was going to pull you out of the chair, but she skidded to a stop before she could touch you.

"I've been gone for a while, and I wasn't really sure whether you'd want me to come inside after everything," you told her. Alexia scoffed at that as she pulled you into a hug. "I'm sorry that I ran away, I just didn't want the fight to get worse. Please forgive me."

"You did the right thing. I was mad at first, but sometimes I forget how we go back and forth. You'd give me space if I wanted it, and sometimes, I need to remember to give it to you too. I was completely out of line for how I acted that night, and I am sorry, so please forgive me," Alexia pleaded with you. She held you in the hug to keep you from seeing her cry, but you could feel the tears begin to soak through the collar of the shirt you were wearing.

"Of course I forgive you, Ale," you told her. Alexia's body sagged down a bit as she relaxed in your arms. "Can we go inside now please?"

Alexia nodded as she wrapped her arm around your waist. You let her stay tucked against you as the two of you went inside. Alexia only let go of you once you were inside to go back out and grab your bag for you. You went straight into the bedroom to shower and change into clothes that were actually yours as Alexia started a load of laundry and called to order lunch for the two of you.

"I know that we kind of made up already, and I do not want to upset you, but I think we need to talk about what happened. Could we try to do that in a calm manner?" Alexia asked you. You nodded as you made room for her to sit with you on the bed. You knew that Alexia really didn't want to fight because she had brought the takeout to you instead of leaving it in the living room for later. "Will you please go first? I'd like to know what exactly happened that upset you so much."

"You embarrassed me in front of everybody. It's hard enough for the team to see me as my own person. I've been Marta's baby sister, then I was your girlfriend, and right when I started to feel like me, you showed everybody different," you told her. Alexia's face softened as she listened to you explain your feelings. She had never really thought about things like that before. You had always just been (Y/n) to her, but as she thought about it, the more she realized that she saw many people refer to you in regards to someone else.

"Yes, you're Marta's sister and my girlfriend, but that's not all you are. It isn't anybody else's fault that the world doesn't understand your value. I forget that not everybody knows you like I do, so I am sorry for stepping in the way I did. You know how I get, but if you're willing to be patient, I will work on being better," Alexia promised you. There was never going to be a world where you wouldn't give Alexia a second chance.

[jjkarmy091]

Second Best - Jungkook (part 5)

Summary: Being friends with someone who has your heart it’s already hard, let alone when that special someone ends up falling in love with your best friend, the one you think would never make anything to hurt you . Will you be able to ignore it and move on? what will happen when everything gets too much for you to handle?

Genre: Friends to lovers; angst; body insecurities; bullying; friend betrayel;

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Jungkook’s feeling down lately.

After leaving Sewoon in the club, he hopped on his motorcycle and started driving until he reached his own home. Opening the front door he looked around and was emerged by this void feelling. He didn't know what was going on and why he felt the way he did. It wasn't a normal reaction of his. His night even went okay, he was having fun with his friends and kissed the girl he was in love with. How come everything turned out to this shitty. 

Then he remembered Y/n, the way she spoke with him before leaving. Did he say something he wasn't supposed to? Was she mad because of the guy she was sad for? He picked up his phone and called her, not once, not twice but four times. In any of those tries did she pick up.

“Hey Y/n. Just wanted to let you know I’m home and safe. I’m sorry the way things went out tonight, it was a very confusing night. Are we good? We never fought before and I'm lost here. I just-- I want you to know I care about you Y/n, a lot. Never forget that”  

Five minutes later: 

“Please call or text me when you get the chance so I know you are okay and we can talk about it” 

"Don't leave me in the dark Y/n. I'm beggin you. Talk to me or else I'll lose it"

Nothing. After millions of calls and text the response was not what he was expecting and it was driving him insane. Breathing heavily he sent one last text

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

Sitting down on his couch waiting for a call or reply from you was being a nightmare. It's been an hour and he got nothing from you. He fucked up bad. "Shit”. Then his phone started ringing and he answered it so quickly he didn't have time to see who it was, almost dropping it midway.  

“Hello?” 

“Hi Jk.” Sewoon replied on the other side. “Did you get home already? I wanna apologize for the way I spoke earlier about Y/n. You’re right, I shouldn’t have take it so easily and said those things. Were you able to talk to her after?” 

“Ahhh Sewoon. No I didn’t. She's probably asleep. I’m sure she’s alright.” Jungkook said nervously. “she better be. She’s not home either. I went there and no response” Sewoon said and Jungkook mind stopped working. What does she mean she's not home either? Did she really went out with some guy? She was never the one to behave like this. Only if she was --

“Jk are you listening to me? Can I come over to yours? Leaving Y/n aside for a bit, I thought we could have some fun I saw how stressed you were before. I want to help you shake it off a little, like old times”

Jungkook could only laugh to himself thinking how crazy he was when he said “I’m sorry Sewoon, not today. I’m tired and wanna get some rest okay? I'm sorry. If you get any info on Y/n, please tell me yeah? Just to be sure she really is okay. Sleep thigh"

Dropping his phone next to him, he turned the tv off, went to his bedroom, laid down and tried to find a way to sleep

----- 

Y/n called her manager the next morning asking for some days off, caliming she was having some personal issues and needed some time to fix them. The manager put no restraining to that, giving her a week off since she never missed work and was a great employee. She knew that too damn well.  She spent her life that goddamn coffee shop trying to earn every penny she could .

After drinking with Lisa and clean the mess they made she tried to get some sleep. Everytime she was about to close her eyes her phone screen would light up. She would look at it. Another notification from Jungkook and one in particular from Sewoon saying “you better had some fun tonight bitch because you leaving the club with someone else ruined my night. Jungkook lost his mind thinking you were in trouble. Call me up".

Y/n couldn’t help but sigh. Was her best friend always so self centered? How come she never noticed it? She turned her phone off and rolled over, finally being able to get some rest until she wakes up with a loud bang on the door and Lisa walking in full of excitement.  

“Good morning lady. Did you pack your stuff already? Pack warm things, a book or two, some pair of boots and lots of socks. We’re going to the snow. Oh and our flight is in about 5 hours. Hurry up”  

You didn’t know if you wanted to kill Lisa or thank her for being such a light in the middle of the storm going in your head and your heart. The next few hours were a rush. Between preparing things, buying others, organizing documents and being ready in time to go to the airport and checking in. In all this time, Y/n hasn't responded to either Sewoon or Jungkook. It was better this way. It was too much on her plate. A burden she had no need to carry.

After all the stress to get there on time they finally managed to sit down in their seats and recover from all the rush. Y/n wasn't definitely used to all of this. After a bit of silence she turned to Lisa and said  

"Jungkook called and texted me several times last night. And Sewoon too. It made me question the context of her text."  

“what do you mean?” Lisa questioned. 

"Basically she blamed me for ruinning her night with Jungkook after I left the club." Y/n retorded. Lisa opened her mouth but then closed it. Y/n wishes she had said what she was going to say, but instead she questioned "Did you answered any of them?" Y/n shakes her head "Good. These days we will have our phones turned off. No Jungkook, no Sewoon and no worries. Let's just have fun and create some badass memories. Deal?”

Y/n has to make sure that after all this mess gets better, to thank Lisa for everything she's been doing for her. Not that she hasn't already. She's so glad she came back into her life at a time like this. It made her compare Lisa to Sewoon. Where was Sewoon in the most difficult moments of your life?

"Deal"

A bit of sadness hits Y/n. She holds Lisa's hand and mouths "thank you" squeezing it tightly. You are going to get through this, like you managed before but this time with someone who truly cares and you couldn't be more relieved by it

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

@esposadomd @joonlover1207 @eegyo @furrywonderlandwolf @minghaosimp @differentrunawayperson @nikkinikj @jksusawife @11thenightwemet11 @jk97bam

[allpiesforourown]

I'm always thinking about a post I saw once that asked what if Bingge became so excited to bang Shen Yuan he became bad at sex, and I think that concept works beautifully in the asshole roommate Binghe au. Binghe cumming instantly when Yuan-ge touches his cock, Binghe so eager to get inside he doesn't spend quite enough time prepping (he doesn't like that he hurt his Yuan-ge, but he also can't help but enjoy confining him to bed until he recovers), Binghe getting so hard so fast he literally passes out from all the blood going to his massive boner and misses out on the chance to smash at all that day because SY became worried for his health and didn't want to strain him... I feel like no amount of prior exposure would desensitize this man to Shen Yuan's charms.

I had to make a graph to fully explain this phenomenon known as the "bingmeification to sex skill ratio"

We start at STAGE 1: bingge before meeting shen yuan. He has a harem of satisfied women. He's very confident in himself

STAGE 2: he meets shen yuan and becomes fond of him. Watch out! Now when he has sex with women it's a little awkward because his mind keeps wandering to shen yuan

STAGE 3: he decides to hit it and quit it with shen yuan. Surely after they have sex once, he'll get these feelings out of his system and go back to being his normal sex God self

STAGE 4: CRITICAL STATUS! THE PLAN BACKFIRED! Binghe is experiencing real attraction to someone he has feelings for. Despite all the women he's had sex with, he's never liked them as much as he likes shen yuan. All of a sudden he has the experience and confidence of a little boy kissing his crush for thr first time. Even shen yuan knows what he's doing better than him

STAGE 5: bingmeification process has run its course. Shen yuan will let binghe fuck him despite how bad Binghe is at sex and slowly but surely, he'll get good at it again.

[thesilmarillionblog]

A Sweet Distraction

Volume 2

➳ Click here to read the first part!

Summary: When you're in a club, you have to make sure Soldier Boy stays out of trouble and doesn't draw attention of other people while Butcher and the boys look for Payback members. Whatever it takes, you have to keep him busy and distracted.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18! (MINORS DNI), Language, some fluff

Word Count: 3025

A/N: English is not my first language.

Ben's lips curled as your tongues connected, and you felt your heart speed up as you gave him a gentle kiss, not knowing if it would calm his rage. You were shocked when, in spite of his rough nature, he gave you an affectionate kiss in return, as if he didn't want to frighten you away.

When his kisses got deeper and his tongue took over your mouth, leaving you gasping, you drew away. Seeing that his chest had gotten back to normal, you relaxed and exhaled deeply.

He winked at you and said, “You did a good job here, sweetheart, huh? You certainly know how to surprise me.”

You found yourself laughing uncontrollably as you observed his flirtatious behavior toward you. 

Your eyes wandered around the club as you muttered, “I just hoped surprising you would work,” blushing beneath his focused stare. Everyone continued dancing madly to the loud music, seemingly unaware that Soldier Boy was going to kill them all if you didn't stop him.

He led you to a quieter area of the club and said, “Well, it definitely worked,” when you bought him another drink. He was not getting drunken in any way.

Because he was a man with PTSD and was unpredictable, you were still terrified of him and wanted the night over as quickly as possible. However, you felt safer and more at ease with him because you didn't feel pressured to kiss him against your will. He was becoming even nicer to you. 

“So, why are you working for Butcher?” he inquired, setting his empty glass down on the closest table. 

You mumbled, “I'm not working for him,” as your nails gently traveled across the wall behind you. “His wife, who I was really close to, is hurt by Homelander really badly. She was the most kind human being I've ever encountered. So actually, I work with him let’s say.” 

He nodded to you despite the fact that the fact that he didn't clearly understand the situation or the dynamics amongst you all. 

“Butcher told me you're going to kill Homelander,” you muttered, as if you could be heard by someone else. “Are you truly capable of that? Killing him?” 

Soldier Boy laughed at your questioning and your clumsy attempt to find out if he was truly passionate about killing Homelander. “Of course I can, and I will,” he declared with pride. “He's just a foolish son of a bitch with a weird cape, and he's a cheap fucking knockoff. Just another worthless item to be used by his masters.”

You chuckled at his word choice and self-confidence, which fit him absolutely well. 

You said, "Honestly, I was very scared of you; well, maybe I still am, but I'm starting to think you're not that bad," feeling a little brave after his kind behavior toward you.

“I'm a tough bad supe,” he was whispering to you, raising your chin with two fingers and gently massaging your jawline with his fingertips. You shuddered, knowing that he might easily hurt you if he briefly loosened control. “But you know, just for you, I can show you how much I can be a gentleman.”

Even though you were still terrified of him and his abilities, your face flushed at his daring behavior right away. However, you were too weak to control your excitement. Being a supe or whatever was something you had never considered, so you muttered, “To be honest, I'm not that interested in getting intimate with a supe.”

As he drew nearer to you and prepared to press you to reconsider, he questioned, “Why not?”

Just a little while ago, Soldier Boy considered finding a simple supe woman to give his seed to and have a quick, hard fuck with, but now that he thought about it, he found you to be more interesting than those simple supe women who were boring and way too confident for his tastes—or perhaps he just liked your shyness at that particular moment. 

You said, your face flushed, “I heard there are supes who hurt people when they got close,” allowing him to touch your face with his massive hands. 

“There are no other men like me,” he remarked, with a grin brushing your lips with his thumb. 

You whispered, “No doubt. However, it's risky, don't you think? Considering the imbalance in power and everything.” 

“Believe me,” he added, continuing to playfully stroke your lips with firm hands. “I've fucked a lot of regular women just like you before; I can guarantee that none of them experienced any injury. People find themselves drawn to fucking supes for a reason.”

Your pulse raced with excitement and a hint of fright as you allowed him to touch you, unsure of whether or not to believe him. It felt like just the two of you, in between the din and the background noise. Soldier Boy was undeniably attractive, and his extraordinary strength only served to heighten the thrill you felt. 

“You want to distract me, right?” He heard your rapid heartbeat and sensed that you were putting your legs together, so he smiled and muttered something in your ear. “If you allow me to get into your tiny, aching pussy, we can both get pleasantly distracted. I would be happy to provide for your every need. Actually, I'm giving you a chance, so count yourself fortunate.” 

Telling him you didn't want to be touched would be a big lie. So, as he continued gently brushing your cheek with one of his powerful hands, you placed yours on his hand and gave him a forceful but delicate kiss to find out if he was being truthful about being a gentleman or not. 

Unexpectedly, he gave you the same tender kiss in return, and you could feel a little smile creep across his lips. After a while, his gentle kisses became more intense as he pulled you toward his powerful chest with his large hands behind your neck. Under his powerful hands, you felt secure. After a while, his powerful and seductive kisses left your lips red and ruined, and you pulled away to catch your breath.

He asked in a harsh voice against your lips, “So, what do you say?” as he continued to give you short kisses that increased your desire for him.

You gave it a little consideration, letting your hunger and physical desires gradually take the place of your fear of him, and then you nodded to him, “Uhm, yes.”

Soldier Boy's lips met yours with a smile as his hands hovered over your hips, slowly squeezing you until you left speechless and made to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet.

With a harsh voice, he asked, “Yes for what?” knowing that tonight, when he

finally got in your panties, you would make his dick warm with your tightness. He could feel his large cock getting harder by each second.

As he attempted to get you to talk when you were consumed with his exquisite little touches, Soldier Boy chuckled at your shyness. 

You said, “Yes for,” stumbling for words. “A small distraction, let's say?” 

Soldier Boy chuckled in a low voice at your description of the issue. He almost said something filthy about your naive demeanor, but he chose to refrain from putting you through more discomfort than was necessary. 

While guiding you to the second floor's darker corners and the rooms there, he teased, “Fine, baby, it doesn't sound that miserable anymore for you, huh?”

Then, just as a man was ready to crush you with his clumsy walk, Soldier Boy pushed the somewhat drunk man to the other side of the wall, and you found yourself inside a small, dark room that smelled strongly of drugs and alcohol. He stated, “It's all safe in here,” as you hurriedly scanned the room before he wildly began kissing you. 

He was taken aback when you kissed him tenderly on the lips, and you hoped he would be as kind as possible. You stroked his long beard and smiled at him. 

His tongue in your lips made you shiver and as he gave you a passionate kiss, your fingers danced over his long beard. He drew back and shoved you against the wall, making you gasp. He lifted your dress confidently and met your eyes with his darkened ones to check whether you were still afraid of him.

He gently assured you, “I won't hurt you,” right before his big fingers began to stroke your clit through your underwear. “Just relax.”

As he felt himself becoming more and more difficult for him to control, but he made his choice to make you feel comfortable and wet by giving you pleasure you needed. Soldier Boy gently inserted one of his fingers inside of yours, causing you to sigh a little louder this time after rubbing your clit some more and eliciting small noises from your mouth.

He answered, “You can take it,” and then carefully inserted his entire meaty finger inside of yours. “You're so good for me.”

You pushed yourself to take his entire finger in between his compliments and begged him to lift you up so you could be in a more comfortable position. Thankfully, he got the message right away and effortlessly raised you up with one hand. He then proceeded to gently touch you while whispering compliments against your lips.

You pressed your lips to his as he began to touch you more roughly, kissing him wildly as your fingertips played with his long and thick beard.

When Soldier Boy felt that you were close and that you were moist all over his hand, he added another finger. He bit your bottom lip gently, then whispered, “Cum on my fingers, sweetheart,” as he increased his strokes and found your most sensitive area with skill.

As you neared your climax, your legs trembled and you began to clench around his thick fingers between his praise while you moaned loudly against his mouth. When he took back his fingers, which were coated with your slick, you whimpered in protest. You were rather touch-starved, and you knew your body needed more.

He shoved his fingers in your mouth before you could even respond, growling, “Taste yourself,” as you held him tightly since your legs felt like a jelly. “Taste your sweetness.”

Your body became consumed with a desire to please him, so you hesitantly opened your mouth to let him to use it whatever he pleased. When he saw that you were ready to follow his instructions, he smiled mischievously and gave you the finger, saying, “Suck it, baby.”

When he put his hardness between your legs and ordered you to suck his finger so you could taste your own wetness, your heart began to race. As he carefully slid his fingers back and forth in your mouth, your tongue curled around his finger, giving you the sensation of a salty slick, and he pretended that you were sucking his cock instead. 

His lips twisted in enjoyment as he observed your submissive demeanor, and he growled, “You're a little dirty cocksucker, aren't you? However, I'll give you another chance to suck me off with your adorable little mouth later.”

With a swift motion, he removed his finger from your mouth and guided you both to the bed behind you. When Soldier Boy removed his hardness from his pants while holding your neck and pulling up your dress. The moment you felt the tip of his cock at your wet entrance, you shivered with anxiety, your cheek facing the sheets as you waited nervously for him to take you. You moved under Soldier Boy and forced him to release his grip on your hip, causing him stare at you perplexed before he inserted his cock into your pussy.

“What now?” he questioned while you were looking at his enormous dick in fear as he gave himself quick, forceful strokes.

“I’d like to do it in that position,” you murmered shyly, trying not to look at his enormous cock.

Soldier Boy noticed your anxious expression and your naive tone as you expressed wanting to be fucked in a missionary position. Without even realizing it, his heart began to soften, and he leaned over you on the bed, forcing you to lock your legs behind him as he began to kiss you again to help you relax. 

“Do you want to watch me fucking you?” He removed your tiny panties from your pussy and raised your dress so he could see your nude lower body. “Watching my cock slide inside your pussy,” he questioned. 

“Yes,” you moaned as you felt his thick cock on your stomach and mumbled against his mouth. 

After pulling the hanger off your dress and exposing your tits to his view, Soldier Boy spit on his own fingers and began to caress your sensitive clit some more. When he quickly sucked on both of your hard nipples, you let out a deep moan. Then, with a daring gaze into your eyes, he spat on his own fingers more and said, “Your adorable little hairy pussy looks so delicious. I'm fucking tired of shaved little bitches. You're really appealing to me, sweetie. A real woman.”

His fingers and his compliments made you feel close as his hand continued to play with your clit. You attempted to control your moans but were unsuccessful when he abruptly inserted two fingers back into you, forcing you to clench around his fingers once again.

He said, “I can make you come as much as you want, sweetheart,” as you whimpered loudly and opened your legs wider. Your eyes welled up with tears as you realized how empty you felt and how much you needed him to fill you.

“Beg me to fuck you.”

You quietly said, “Please,” running your fingers through his long beard.

“That's not how you beg,” he muttered aggressively.

You clamped your legs around his hips and moaned, “Fuck me, please,” as you attempted to get him to move on you.

As you continued pleading with him to get inside you, your eyes clouded with desire to be fucked by him, Soldier Boy grinned satisfiedly against your lips. He held his firm cock in his hand and moved it back and forth against your clit, forcing you to continue begging.

You both groaned when he finally pressed it against your entrance, and he moved very carefully to avoid hurting you with his strength. But you were so wet that he didn't even have to push, and he effortlessly glided inside you, which made him smile proudly. 

He encouraged you, saying, “You're taking me so good,” and attempted, very carefully, to insert his entire shaft inside your pussy. “Just a little bit more.” 

When he gave you a firm hip squeeze and thrust his entire hardness inside of you, you felt a little uncomfortable at first, but you quickly grew accustomed to the length of his dick and forced yourself to suppress your groan of discomfort.

He waited inside of you, and you murmured softly, “Can you be gentle?”

“You want to be fucked slowly?”

You nodded to him, and he surprised you by kissing your forehead tenderly and smiling a little. He said, “I'll fuck you as you like it tonight.”

You both gasped with ecstasy as he began to slowly move his cock inside of you. He looked into your eyes, his muscular hands holding you in place as he slowly smashed his dick within your pussy.

With every stroke, he snarled and praised you, saying, “You're so fucking tight and nice. I should have fucked you sooner.”

He was fucking you slowly but with powerful strokes that made you sigh with pleasure. He was also extremely mindful of every facial expression you made. When Soldier Boy sensed your hips frantically striving to match his thrusts, he began to move a little quicker and harder. He was aware that your body was capable of more. You felt yourself moving closer to him again as you groaned louder and gripped his face as he began to fuck you harder. 

“Cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he commanded, wrapping his hands around your neck and shifting slightly on top of you. It got harder to keep himself from spilling inside of you as he fucked you carefully, seeing as your tits bounced with each stroke. 

Your legs trembled with incredible pleasure as soon as he gave you the order to cum and hit you with his powerful thrusts, dominating your body, and you screamed in intense pleasure. You had no idea that you needed to be fucked in that particular way. You forced him to fully press against your walls by raising your hips and clenching around his big cock. You were shaking under Soldier Boy wildly as he continued to fuck you in between orgasms. 

With a low growl, he shoved his entire cock within your pussy and grabbed your tits with one hand while spilling his thick, white ropes inside.

“Fuck,” he growled as you clenched around him one more time and he kept spilling inside you for minutes, filling your insides with his sperm.

As he filled up inside of you, you both snapped to reality, and he planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

He took his softened cock from your insides, and he chuckled when you smiled against his lips and while you were trying to catch your breath in bliss.

When he palmed your pussy and got back his sperm to your insides, which were leaking out of your thigh, you both moaned. 

“See,” he teased you. “No damage was done. I gave you an excellent attention.”

You boldly put your hands to his flushed lips, closed your eyes, and gave him a quick, hard kiss. 

“You're indeed a sweet little distraction to me.”

THE END.

A/N: Well, that was all. It was just a two chapters long fic, but you can check my Masterlist for long Soldier Boy / Reader fics.

Let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs are very appreciated and important to me. ♡

Taglist: @n-o-p-e-never @mostlymarvelgirl @libby99hb @arrowenchantress @aleemendoza2425-blog @anundyingfidelity

[keferon]

Ok i said i would do itater, but this was done for my sister who got really hurt and wanted comfort out of my drabble, shout out to you @saltynsassy31 XD

This will probably be very OOC bc again, i am NOT too acquainted with these characters

So apologies in advance, but i think this will still be very entertaining for you :]

So yeah, here's part 2!

---

Jazz was tired, they haven't given him much time to rest since he came back. And even if they did, it's not like he could rest anyways, thinking about....about Prowl.

No way he could have just left him, right? After everything....it just didn't feel right, and the way they spoke to him about it too. Call him crazy but something in his gut told him they were hiding something from him. But it just never seemed enough to push him to look into it (oh how he would regret that for the rest of his life)

Today was supposed to be a normal routine check to the new mechas, with new recruits coming in for him to teach.

Jazz was given a new mecha suit, despite his protests to it (which surprised even him honestly, but it just didn't feel right). He hadn't gotten the chance to see it yet, today was the day they would present the new model, though it was said to be in its early stages still.

...

He doesn't know how it happened, how he'd gotten here, but all he knew was that he had seen red. When he gotten to see his new mech suit, it seemed oddly familiar in touch, in fact something about it made him feel sick to his stomach.

Small dents and scarring coated the plating around the panels that opened to the cockpit. He recognised that plating, from crawling on it with his magnets, sleeping on them comfortably despite being made of metal (there was something so warm about it, but that warmth was....lost. He wanted to puke). But what broke the string holding him together, a scar, a scar so familiar it sent him back to the exact moment he witnessed his partner getting it in the first place.

Jazz had weilded that shut himself, they had gotten in a bad scuffle a while back, and with worry he wanted to try and make sure Prowl wouldn't be in too much pain before they could get some proper help.

"Jazz?" Someone called out to him. That was the last thing he remembered.

Now? Now he stood by the halls in which they didn't allow the likes of him inside, the halls in which the scientists worked on. He made a fast dash to the last room, the room one of the scientists told him had the one he was looking for (though he wasn't proud to admit he had perhaps aggressively gotten that answer out of the poor guy). He had a weird unknown blaster weapon with him that he had ripped from the mech suit he was supposed to try out (deep down, he hoped that weapon didn't belong to Prowl. He hoped that he wasn't too late), using that, he blasted the door open hoping that would keep anyone from stopping him from getting inside.

As soon as Jazz layed his eyes on the scene before him; his partner hanging from wires holding him into place, chain keeping him from leaving, mutilated almost beyong recognition save his face, and with a small weak staticked cry from his partner, "Jazz?" the small bit of awarness he had gained back was gone again. All he could do in that moment was to yell, a desperate cry that came from the pits of his lungs.

"GET AWAY FROM MY PARTNER!"

And in another flurry of motions he didn’t have complete control over, he was beating the ever living hell out of the prick who decided it was a good idea to mess with HIS partner! He didn’t even know how long he had been at it until the twisted man he called a boss scratched his face, small bits of blood flowing out. In shock and pain, he grabbed the man by the neck of his shirt and threw him to the otherside of the room. Once he was certain that he wouldn't be getting up again, he turned to face Prowl once more, running and calling out to him as he ran to scoop up his beloved's face, blurting out a mess of an apology.

"I'm so sorry, i shouldn't have brought you here- we, we need to get you out-"

Oh did the guilt eat him up from the inside, he- he shouldn't have brought him here. Prowl probably hated him right now, but the sudden distant bell of an alarm down the halls had him scrambling to his feet to try and make things right.

Suddenly, as adrenaline slowly faded off, he realised how much damage he had actually taken throughout his rampage, a limp on his left leg catching up to him. Stinging pain on his face and limbs, but he needed to keep moving, they weren't safe yet.

"I have to get you to a safe place," he mumbled, mostly to himself, "and- and then maybe call for help. Oh but who could i even go to?" As he spoke, he started to set Prowl's limbs free from it's chains, gods they were so damaged, he could barely look at the missing parts. But as he worked his way through, he let out small sighs of relief to see that at least, he seemed to not be missing some vital parts. He could still maybe make a run for it, if only he could stall the facility long enough-

"You really shouldn't have...."

Jazz turned in shock, Prowl's voice snapping him out of his panicked haze.

"Prowl..." if he wasn’t crying already, now he certainly was. Gods he fucked up badly.

Not having the courage to face the other just yet, he turned back to the chained leg he had been working on. Prowl didn't seem to have wanted an answer either way, sitting up as he watched the organic do his work (Jazz tried to ignore the missing arm).

As he finished getting rid of the chain, he got up again, letting out a hiss of pain from his injuries (which did not go unnoticed by the mech). Clutching his left side as a bleeding cut let out a terrible stinging sensation which he doesn't think he'll ever get used to, he walked over to the final limb stuck under chains. As he walked over, he briefed over the quick plan he thought of

"Look, i- i know you might not trust me right now-" a huff, almost soundling like a disbeliefing chuckle, was heard from the mech, Jazz ignored it. "But there is a place you can go to and hide, hide- hide until maybe i can get help or- or find a way to send you back-"

"You wouldn't make it that far." Prowl spoke, matter of factly, which got a hit under Jazz's skin

"I know that! Which is why you will make a run for it. There's an exit by the other side of this room where you can leave-"

A sudden realisation hit Prowl. Jazz wasn't planning on coming with him.

And the human nodded, seeming to understand that Prowl finally got what he was saying. As he reached the last final screw to Prowl's chains, he finished off what he was trying to say "I'll keep them busy long enough for you to leave," before he could finish, as the final screw was let lose and Prowl was free to move, he felt himself be lift up from the ground and let out a startled yelp. "Wha- HEY!"

It took Jazz being shoved inside Prowl's cockpit for him to realise that he had been picked up by the mech (maybe a possible concussion he thought to himself). Jazz couldn't even try to jump out as, despite it missing the plating to shut him inside, Prowl placed his servo up to close to exit.

Desperately and confused, Jazz called out, "What are you doing?!"

To be entirely honest, Prowl wasn't sure himself, he was just as confused as the human to his actions, usually so full of logic. This one was acted apon pure emotion. Emotion of fear, anxiety, anger but most importantly

Desperation

Because somehow, this stupid human had his spark between his fingers, and he'd be dammed if he let him get himself killed just for him.

This isn't how he would want to say goodbye

---

Thanks again, to my sister who pushed me to write this, and also helped out in some parts!

Might have done more if i could, but it's super late rn lol (it's 4am and our mon will kills us for staying up this late).

Again sorry for any OOC moments, but i hope this was to your enjoyment! Maybe i can do a part 3 to this, but idk enough about how things work to do that, so i let anyone be free to mess around with this :]

Oh my... oh fuck I can't. I just keep thinking about Prowl pressing his palm on his chest even when other humans eventually get to him and start shooting. He's a mess, half of his armor is missing he's probably leaving an energon trail behind him. But he knows that while it would take a lot of bullets to take him down, it would take only one lucky bullet to kill Jazz. I'm. AUGh

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Angst with Villain finding out their lover is hero pleasepleaepleaspleadepl—

The villain put the bloody suit onto the table and sat down next to the hero.

In an instant, their lover put down the coffee mug with a shaking hand and stared. First at the torn clothing dipped in blood, then at the villain. Their eyes were wide and they looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Take your time," the villain said. They were curious if the hero was going to come up with any excuses, other lies that fit into their web of a smartly constructed fairytale. A fairytale of being a civilian — a poor, innocent person who happened to fall in love with the big bad villain.

"What is there to say?" the hero whispered. "I fell in love with someone I shouldn't have."

"I told you who I am when we hooked up for the first time," the villain said. They took in a deep breath. A part of them feared the hero had left the suit in the bedroom on purpose, another suspected this entire relationship to be a way of obtaining information.

Both options hurt equally. God, the villain would have probably not cared if the hero had told them in the very beginning. But the lying? The hiding? While the hero knew about them?

"I never meant to hurt you." The villain looked at their, well, lover and tilted their head, not quite understanding how the hero could say something like that. Something that wasn’t mirroring their actions in any way.

"I was honest with you from the very start." The villain brushed the hero's throat with their fingertips, feeling the heated skin burn the ends of their fingers. Gently, they pushed against the hero's windpipe with just the right amount of pressure they knew the hero liked. "But you lied to me."

The hero grabbed the villain's wrist and squeezed hard, just like the villain liked it. They couldn’t help it.

Despite the pain, they wanted the intimacy, they wanted everything to be fine again and the hero seemed to be wanting the same thing.

"I'm sorry," the hero said. "Truly, I should have said something."

The villain increased the pressure on the hero's throat for only a second. Killing the hero now would have solved 90% of their current problems but neither their heart nor their soul agreed on doing so.

Instead, they grabbed the hero's jaw and followed their jawline with their thumb.

They weren't sure if they hated the hero.

The hero with their crooked smile, with their obsessive fascination for video games, their hero with their strange knowledge about random history facts, their lover who didn't like tomatoes, who went to bed late at night, who overworked themselves constantly.

How was it that the villain hesitated now? How was it that they couldn't get rid of someone who caused most of their problems?

"So, you were going to tell me? When exactly?"

"Honey..."

"Don't."

"I didn't know, I thought I could quit eventually. Or you'd quit and we could start a new life. I fell in love and I couldn't help it. I wanted to be selfish just this once, I wanted a normal civilian life, I wanted not to be the hero for once. I wanted someone to take care of me. Someone strong." The hero looked away, their gaze full of pain. "When I'm with you, I don't have to be the hero. I'm not being treated like a hero. I liked that."

"You knew about me, though." The villain clenched their free hand, trying to make sense of the things the hero was saying. "You lied to me."

"Please, I didn't want to hurt you. I never meant to...for me it's just work. It's not personal. It had nothing to do with you."

"Did you use me this entire time? Every time I talked about my plans, did you just use that to your advantage?" The villain could hear their own voice shake. How was this even real? How was this happening? Yesterday they had thought about ways to propose and now, they were going to throw the hero out of the apartment.

How was the villain always the fool? Always the person who couldn't possibly be happy permanently?

"You know me better than that," the hero said. "If you want to kill me now, go ahead. You have every right to be angry at me."

The villain stared at them. They could feel the hero's heartbeat pulsating against their palm.

But they couldn't. They couldn't.

And instead, they leaned forward, loosened their grip and kissed the hero. One last time. It was quick and left the villain - surprisingly - not strangely empty but rather achingly sore inside. They pulled away, blinked the tears out of their own eyes.

"Be gone by tomorrow, will you?"

The hero took in a quivering breath and nodded.

"Whatever you want."

And so it was.

[thatnonameuser]

The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 5.

"But about your mom, could you tell me about her? She sounds like a really nice lady." Is what you asked.

Because you couldn't help but be a little curious. This is so alien to you that the idea of Deuce loving his mother in a completely wholesome way sounds so outlandish in a world of obsessive love is so hard to comprehend that you can't help but be interested.

Deuce's eyes light up like fireworks at your question. Sure, you might be endearing yourself to him more like this, but still, your pickings on information in this world are kind of slim, so you'll take whatever you can get.

Especially considering the bad ending of this misadventure ends with you sending the rest of your life as someone’s possession.

"Y-You want to hear about her?" Deuce's eyes light up at you, wanting to talk about his mother.

"If you want to." You repeat with the same enthusiasm.

"W-well, she's amazing. She works really hard and...." Deuce's speaks enthusiastically about his mom and all the fond childhood memories he has of her. All the way back to Sam's shop to get another carton of eggs, and all the way back to Main Street. It's shockingly normal, the stories he tells about her, and it has to be one of the sweetest of things you've witnessed thus far.

Until you remember the fact that means Deuce had a relatively normal mother-son relationship, meaning his yandere behavior was caused by something else or, even worse, is intertwined in his very being.

Back on your world, usually, people who became obsessed with someone to the point of doing horrible acts to keep someone to themselves had some sort of trauma or past relationship that pushed them into doing such horrible things.

But so far, everyone that you met was moderately normal. They acted in a way that was completely normal or had some quirks that were somewhat normal in your world. Like Cater's social media addiction, for example.

If they are normal, does that mean that they, no, does that mean that everyone here was just born this way? And they just accepted this behavior was normal? There has to be something more to it, right?

You're struck with a thought as Deuce is talking. He hasn't told you about his dad yet. That's not to say that it's wrong that he doesn't have a dad. It's just for a world that romanisticises a love life and marriage that never ends even when one side of it really, really wants to, it's odd that Deuce's mom is a single mother. Did her darling pass away or something?

Well, it's a question you'd like answered. Because maybe it will answer your other question. The death of a parent is deeply traumatic for a child and can maybe a way to explain the growing madness of the world you're in. So, there is no time like the present to ask.

"Uh, hey, Deuce," you say, and he’s quiet, ready to hear whatever you have to say. You swallow roughly, you hope that this won't go wrong,"... I know that this might be a difficult topic, but....how do you feel about your dad?"

The small smile on Deuce's face sours immediately. You can see anger in his eyes, as if the very reminder of his father's existence is capable of working him up into a fury. Ok, so that was a sore subject.

You quickly backtrack, "I'm sorry if that was a sore subject-"

He shakes his head, but the silent rage that you'd seen before is back as he explains, "I never met him, and he should be grateful I never did."

Shit, were you right in thinking that Deuce's dad was a darling. Had he run away, and Deuce hated him for breaking his mother's heart!?

"You must hate him a lot, huh?" You say uneasily. Given Deuce's delinquent days, he probably would have no qualms killing his father if he got the chance.

"More than anything. After how much he hurt my mom..." he trails off, voice deep with anger.

"How does that work? I thought darlings were the powerless ones, how did he hurt your mom?" Now Deuce is the confused one, he gives you a funny look.

"Prefect, I think you're confused."

"What? But I thought-"

"_____, my mom's a darling...."

Wait, that's possible!? "B-but I thought -" You had thought that darlings basically had no say in how their lives went once in captivity. So wait, if Deuce's mom is a darling, then his dad is...."Oh. Oh! So you hate your dad because of what he did to your mom?"

When Deuce nods, you can feel a rush of relief. So a life in captivity isn't the end all of all darlings and it is possible, and more importantly legal, to escape yanderes. Thank the Seven for that one, and apologies to Deuce's mom for the misunderstanding.

Now, all you have to do is figure the escaping part out before you're saddled with a child. If things get that bad, at least.

"So, wait, how does that work? I thought darlings had to stay with their yanderes?"

Deuce shakes his head, "We're from the Queendom of Roses, and they're pretty strict about that stuff so.....wait, is it not the same in your world?"

"What? No, why?" You say almost automatically. Your world has to be the farthest thing from this one.

"It's just -" He trails off before changing his words,"I've been wondering if your world is anything like ours... But do you not have darling laws in your world?"

"Well...." How can you put this in a way that can't be misunderstood? Your world doesn't believe in whatever psychotic idea this world bases their love lives on. So how can you say it that won't make you sound like a darling.

Maybe you could be honest. Or at least, sort of.

"Well, to be honest, my world doesn't really like the whole darling thing. They think it's abusive."

Deuce looks completely flabbergasted, as if you told him something incredulous. "But that’s not true!"

"But they think it is, besides in a way I kind of get it."

Now he looks confused. "What do you mean?"

"Deuce, would you do anything that your dad did to your mom to your future darling?"

"No." He says, completely serious. "I never would."

Well, it's time to crush that idea. "But what if you did it on accident? Maybe you might think that you're protecting them or loving them, but you’re actually hurting them unintentionally.....Do you really want to risk that?"

His serious look on his face falters, and you don't let up. "B-Back in my world, all the stuff you learn about Darlings is illegal. So we're not allowed to do anything to get them no matter how much we want to. It's because everyone thought our treatment of them was too harsh, so they made it illegal."

"But that's not fair," He argues, "what about-"

You aren't going to let him talk about how bad it is for the kidnappers and abusers, maybe a change in perspective will help your argument. "It's not really fair, but I get it. I wouldn't want to be stolen from my family and be forced to love someone else. Would you?"

The look he gives you is conflicted. He's, at the very least, considering what you said.

Is there a chance?

The slightest chance that he can be persuaded out of his yandere ways? Does he care about his future darling want to even risk making her unhappy?

"Prefect?"

"Yes, Deuce?"

"If I-" His eyes avoid yours as he rephrases, "If you were my darling, would you hate me for doing that to you? Taking you away from your friends and family?"

That was- that was one hell of a hypothetical.

Did he know about your status, or is he just using you as an example? Either way...."Would you hate me if I did that to you and your mom?" You dodge the question. You were always going to dodge that question. You were no darling, no matter how much this world says otherwise.

"But pre- _____," Deuce pushes you for a response, as if he needs one to live the rest of his life, "Would you hate me?"

"I would." You say point-blank. And it's the truth. He turns away from you, not wanting to meet your eyes. Still, you're prepared to rub salt into that wound. You give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. If he feels guilty, then good. Feel guilty. If he was considering it. Then now he probably won't. And he turns back to you "But you wouldn't do that to me, would you? After all, you're my friend Deuce."

He doesn't reply. Out of guilt, or contemplation. You don't care. And if it fixes him, then you need to be mean about it.

"C'mon, Ace is probably wondering where we are." He nods, still silent.

Maybe there's a chance that you can fix them, just maybe.....

....you weren't cut out to be a baker.

After another grueling hour of making and topping that gargantuan tart, your arms hurt so badly that they felt like falling off. A whole day of exercise is going to make you real sore tomorrow.

How Trey did this for his dorm without pay, you don't understand. Because you didn't even want to do this and you don't even get to eat this delicious looking tart. Thanks again, Ace...

"Finished!" The victory cheer that Ace and Grim let out is the polar opposite of Deuce's.

"Fin..ished." You can't tell if this depressed cheer is because of all the hard work you've had to do, or because of that conversation you had on the way here.

"Did something happen to him while you were shopping?"

"He's still in shock." Oh, probably because he had his whole world being being flipped. But since he clearly loves his mother, you were a little surprised that he was this upset from it. The truth hurts, but it's probably for the best that you let that stab wound scab with a extra helping of salt. "Better let him work through this one himself."

"For sixteen years, I was so sure...." And for sixteen years, you were lied to. If that's what he was talking about.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm pretty beat. Making tarts sure takes it outta you."

"Yes, and now we can just give this to Riddle, and this headache is over." And it'll probably won't, cause life is such a dick.

"Hey fam!" And you were right. Another headache comes into the kitchen. Yay! "You look wrecked. Are the tarts done?"

"Ooh, those look sooo cute. Lemme snap a quick pic for Magicam!"

"Wa-" You don't even have a chance to move out of the frame before the bright flash goes off. Again.

"What, NOW you decide to show up?"

"I just came to see how hard my little newbs were working." Or to reap the rewards of all your hard work. But out of everything this could be much worse.

"It's tough work if you're not used to it. But there's no better cure for the ails of fatigue than something sweet from the oven!"

"Ooh finally!" You cheer, clapping your hands. Out of everything you went through in one day, something good will finally come all this BS.

"Pretty funny how you managed to show right when it was ready to eat, Cater." Free food means you don't are about Cater's shenanigans. Unless he takes too much then you're going to be mad.

"Mmm...That smells so good!" For what feels like the first time today you actually agree with Grim.

You take your first bite, and you feel like you've been set on cloud nine. It's delicious. Light, creamy, sugary and nutty. If this world's priorities weren't ass backwards you would consider staying just to try all the desserts it had to offer. You can't help the little jumps you make as you take your second bite.

"Rich in flavour, yet not too sweet...It's like chestnuts are dancing across my tongue!"

"Is that...a good thing?"

"Of course, it is! What I've give to eat these forever!" You say, dreamily. No wonder Riddle threw Ace out. You would've if they ate one of your tarts and they tasted like this.

"Oh, Trey! You gotta do the thing." Wait, what was Cater talking about?

"What thing?" You ask mid-chew.

"Oh...that thing." Ok, now you're spooked. What thing?

"Uh, Wanna fill me in here?"

"What's everyone's favorite food?" Kay. Weird thing to say after a mystery thing enters the chat. Wait now Cater's got you doing it, damn it.

Ace, Deuce and Grim all list off their favorite foods, "What about you, _____?" You respond in turn, with your favorite food, still what does that have to do with-

" All right, you've got it.....Let's 'Paint the Roses'!" A spark of magic goes off, but otherwise does nothing.

Regardless, you hit with another wave of deja vu. A set of clubs, and specifically, the three of clubs had been painting the roses red in your dream. So why was your dream connecting with real life?

"Huh? What does that mean?"

"Take another bite of your tart and see." You, hesitantly, take a small bite of your tart. But you don't taste the chestnuts, or the cream, or the even the sugar.

You taste home. You taste the birthdays you had with this on the menu. The sad nights where this was the only thing that could cheer you up. That one restaurant that made it perfectly and the nights you tried and failed to recreate it in your kitchen. It's so perfect it brings tears to your eyes.

The taste reminds you of home. A home you can't go back to. That has your friends and family waiting for you. Oh seven, are they looking for you? Are they worried? Are they panicking because you're gone? Even if they saw you leave, who the hell would believe a magic carriage poofed a kid out of the known universe?!

"_____? You're crying..." You instinctively reach up and wipe it away, you really were crying.

"S-Sorry, it really is my favorite food and....and it tastes like home." You say with a sad smile. "H-How did you do that?"

"It's my signature spell. Technically, it's 'overwriting characteristics'. I can change taste, color, smell and whatever. It only lasts for a little while." Well that's both cool and dangerous. Cool, because you can change so many things for a short time. And dangerous, because that whatever is carrying a ton. Does that mean he can change the characteristics of a person? Or a completely erase something from reality for a while? Curiouser and curiouser. "But it is kinda like covering up the real thing hence, 'painting'."

"If I had magic like that, I could be eatin' canned tuna every meal of every day!"

"You would do that, wouldn't you, Grim?"

"That's way better than Riddle's stupid collar magic."

"You love tempting fate, don't you Grim. The last thing we need right now is him popping outta nowhere again." You scratch your fingers through his fur, with a chuckle.

Trey doesn't seem to agree with Grim's compliment, "Oh, Riddle's magic's in a whole other league. His signature spell is a weapon. Mine's just a childish prestidigitation."

Is he insecure about it, or something? His magic is pretty cool, and the only reason you're really afraid of it is because of the fact that changing characteristics is pretty broad.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up. Yours is cool in your own way. His is just a little.....dictator-y."

Trey smiles at you, "Thanks, _____." Well, isn't that great. Now all we have to do is-

"Speaking of Riddle-it's too late to give him these now. Let's call it a day and do it tomorrow." Spoke too soon. Great, just great. You think the compliment would have buttered him up a little. Well, at least you just have to barricade your door.

"Don't forget that tomorrow's the unbirthday party. You don't want to be late."

Yeah you're have to go. Mr. Stickler-for-the-Rules Rosehearts wants you to attend so that he can keep an eye on you. Also you should probably go to make sure Ace doesn't fuck it up and get permanently kicked out.

Still, you aren’t looking forward to seeing that red tyrant in all his glory. But when the price to pay is having Ace living in your dorm until you graduate, you have to do it regardless.

"Yu, can I crash with you again? It doesn’t look like I'll be allowed in my own dorm tonight."

"It's not really like I can say no..." You murmur, which is true because you're afraid if angering him, but Deuce and Grim actually come to your aid.

"It isn't right to keep mooching off of ______, Ace."

"Yeah, it ain't! If you wanna stay tonight, you gotta pay for the privilege! Ten cans of tuna!"

"What? Guess I'm sleeping outside, then." That's all it took? Really?

"Why don't you go and stay at Yu's dorm," Well, that was a given. Thanks Trey, you didn't expect him to open his big fat mouth, especially after all the kindness he spared you and you in turn, thought you at least buttered him up," -too, Deuce, so you can keep an eye on him?" What.

Great, now you have two people. Two unwanted guests in your dorm, fan-fucking-tastic. That's two people wondering your dorms halls, and sneaking around.

"What fun for you. Ooh, maybe I'll come too!" Aw fuck no. Two was already overcrowding, three was way too many. "What do you say, Yu?" How about, fuck no Cater. You already going have two loose cannons roaming in your dorm, you don't need third.

Trey says what you can't for you much too your relief. "No pass for you." Thank you Trey, even if he did unintentionally, or intentionally since you don't know his motivations, hang you out to dry, that kept on liability to your freedom off your back. "Sorry to dump them all on you, _____. At least it's just for tonight."

"It's no problem." It's very much a problem, but you can't do anything about it. "See you tomorrow."

Till tomorrow, just a little longer it seems.

Just a little longer.

You were exhausted as soon as you went back to Ramshackle.

Having two yanderes in your house was two way too many, but with the day's exhaustion staring you directly in to the face. Half a night of sleep mixed with too much exercise, too much work, too much spent adrenaline, and too many emotions running high is a exhausting combination. And when it finally set in, you could barely keep you eyes open long enough to walk back to Ramshackle. So you were scooped up by Deuce, after a three minute argument between Ace and Deuce, and carried the rest of the way.

The way back to Ramshackle is uneventful, save for Grim's 'demands' for what he wanted for dinner now that the extra tart from earlier was well buried in his belly.

After feeding Grim like the cat he wasn't, you barely had the energy and strength to keep your eyes home as you made dinner. Thank the seven that instant noodles exist here. You didn't really want to cook for your two unexpected guests, but you just want to go to bed. The sooner, the better.

You also tuned out whatever conversation Ace and Deuce were having as you all ate in the lounge, way too tired to actively listen to it. If they asked you anything, you couldn't really remember what they said, you'll worry about that tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow, Ace and Deuce hopefully wouldn't bother you tonight, everyone's tired because of today so all you can hope for is that you had a peaceful night tonight.

But that didn't happen, because it's happened again.

Or it's better to say that that strange dream is happening again.

You remember drifting off in the warmth of your scratchy sheets, exhausted from the days events. Only to wake up just like you did last night. With that floaty feeling, making you feel like you were flying in the air and swimming in mud at the same time.

Unnerved, you throw off the covers to escape that uncomfortable feeling. But when you reach out to feel the blankets, you don't feel the scratchy fabric against your palm. Or the lumps of the old springs in the mattress or the warmth of Grim's sleeping body.

You place a hand of his fur but reel back in confusion when you don’t feel the softness of fur or the warmth of the flames on his ears.

"This is....it's a dream, right?" You ask to no one in particular. You get only silence in reply.

But like last time, the mirror glows its pale white light. It calls to you, it beckons you.

So are your dreams trying to show you something, like last time. It had told you about the painting the roses, and you did meet the three of clovers today. So maybe it's trying to warn you of something, something destined to happen tomorrow.

Well, the only way you'll be able to find out is if you try the mirror.

"Do you want me to go through?" You ask, and surprisingly, the mirror ripples in response.

Hesitant, you place your palm on the front of the mirror and, much more gently this time, it pulls you through.

Like last time, you're blinded by a too bright white light, and then you're on soft grass.

The world looks like a more animated version of Heartslabyul now, and you're stuck in what has to be the center of the rose maze.

You turn around, and the mirror that transported you is half buried among the surrounding hedges, showing your bedroom on the other side, just like last time.

But unlike last time, there's no one here.

The greyscale hedge maze is full of half and fully red roses, but there is no one here. Strange.

There are no card soldiers, no Alice and no Queen of Hearts, just en empty wonderland-

You freeze as you feel something hit your foot. You look down and-

He's tiny. That's not even an insult. The little guy is so tiny that you could have stepped on him if you weren't paying attention. He's dressed in a red cloak and has a proportionally tiny crown. And he's desperate pulling on your pants leg to drag you back to otherside of your mirror.

"You're the King of Hearts..." You realise, and the tiny king lets go of you, eyes widening at your recognition.

And then he goes back to yanking you back with all his force. Which isn't much, and he falls over twice in his attempts.

"Hey, wait a second. Why are you pulling me back." Is he trying to make you leave, but the mirror wanted to you come back here for something so could you even leave?

The Red King mimes something rapidly in panic, but he doesn’t say a word. Is he mute?

"Calm down." You object, reaching out to do.....whatever was needed to soothe him. Sure, he's small enough to pick up in your hand, but it's obvious that he's concerned about you. Maybe this has to-

You're cut off mid thought as soon as you wrap your hand around him, another light burst out even more blinding than the first, and you feel the tiny body and fabric in your grasp grow so rapidly, it's almost likely it was magic.

Which is because this is a dream.

You wipe the blinding light lingering in your eyes away with a groan, just as a pair of hands, this time normal sized, grab you by your wrists and pull you in the direction of the mirror.

<You need to leave!> The person sounds so desperate as he pulls you, <If she finds you, she's going to cut off your head! I'm just trying to help you!> You lurch forward as you struggle to blink away the remnants of the flash in your eyes.

You're thrown forward against something. It's hard, cold, and smooth to the touch. You try to pull away from the hard surface, but as soon as you rear back two hands on your back, push you forward. And then your vision finally clears.

<B-But I just saw you- I-It was fine a minute ago.>

What you landed upon is the mirror leading back to your room. From here, you can see Grim dozing away in your bed. The mirror had hardened as if stopping you from leaving till you've accomplished what it sent you to do.

But from this angle, a glare of stray light also hits the cold glass. Because in that's reflection, you can see a face that's all to familiar and at the same time not at all.

The person pushing you is dressed in a royal grabe, colored red, black, and gold, and it's covered with heart motifs. From his shirt to the crimson red jacket on his shoulders, from his buttons to the choker on his neck, tiny red hearts cover his clothing. He's still wearing a red cloak, but now it hangs as a cape rather than serving as his whole outfit. He's a little on the shorter side, about Riddle’s height but slightly taller.

And he looks panicked. No, panicked is an understatement. He looks like he's going to have anxiety attack followed by a mental breakdown.

He's stepped back to think ,or rather grasp helplessly at his ginger hair in abject horror. He's close the actually pulling it out, too. Surprisingly, the crown on his head has managed to stay put despite his frenzied pulling.

He's spiraling into a dark abyss of frenzied muttering. <What am I going to do!? She's going to cut off her head, and then the guards' heads and then my head, and everyone's heads!> Is that what you sound like when you're spiraling? Because he looks and sounds like he's on his last nerve and that nerve is fraying very fast.

Wait.

"Hey.....hey!" You manage to intervene somewhere between his ramblings of heads, and he shuts up as soon as you raise your voice.

<Y-Y-Yes?> He looks at you in fear, as if expecting you to be angry. If your theory is right, then, you can't help but feel sorry for him.

"You are the King of Hearts, darling of the Queen of Hearts?"

You hate the way your stomach sinks when he nods.

[sky-high-standards]

Yandere King x Queen reader

(Usual warnings guys yandere behavior betrayal and mass murder REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN, and this is a bit like my other yandere King story)

You were the ruler of a strong kingdom you were admired by all due to your wisdom and independence there weren't many other Kingdoms ruled by a woman without a husband, so you were made famous for this, but you constantly got marriage proposals from Princes Dukes and Kings of many Kingdoms, but you refused each one which only made them desire you more and the proposals kept on coming but there was one man who you thought was different he was the King of a nearby Kingdom that you had an alliance with.

You met him at a ball you came only for trading opportunities and kept to yourself until a drunk man grabbed you by your waist and tried to lure you into the bedroom and touched you inappropriately and naturally you struggled and resisted him, but he didn't like this, and he was about to hit you when a tall gentlemen stopped him and escorted you away from him you thanked him and you two spoke for the rest of the night and you learned he was king Félix the ruler of a very strong Kingdom nearby yours you two soon started an alliance and became good friends what you really admired about Félix is that he never tried to make a move on you and u thought you thought that he had absolutely no romantic feelings for you so you trusted him very much that was your first mistake you were in your throne room discussing matters with your staff when Felix decided to pay you a visit.

You went to the garden with him like you usually did and Félix said.

Félix: Y/n you are an independent and beautiful woman, but have you ever taken a liking to someone.

You were taken back b his question and had a bad feeling about this.

Y/n: No why do you ask?

Félix then sighed and looked you in the eye.

Félix: Y/n we've known each other for a while now and want you to know that the moment I laid eyes on you at the ball I wanted to make you mine.

You were really starting to get nervous, and your stomach dropped when he went down on one knee.

Félix: So, Y/n (last name) will you marry me?

Y/n: Felix I'm sorry but I refuse I only see you as a friend, but you will find someone.

Unbeknownst to you something snapped in him, and he wanted to forcefully take you right then and there, but he kept composure and politely excused himself and went back to his carriage. Of course, you felt bad for rejecting Félix, but you never saw him in a romantic way, but you were sure that everything would go back to normal, but it didn't.

Félix didn't come back for a while after that and naturally you worried about him but what happened next was something that changed your image of Félix forever.

You were in your chambers reading but you were interrupted by your frantic staff saying that your Kingdom was under attack, so you rushed outside only to be met by around 5000 armed knights who were led by none other than Félix and when you saw this you were speechless the feeling of betrayal was overwhelming.

Y/n: Félix what is the meaning of this?

Félix: Y/n I tried to make you mine the nice way, but you rejected me so now I have to take matters into my own hands so choose my dear will you marry me and save your Kingdom, or do you refuse and risk getting all of your beloved subjects killed.

Y/n: Fine Félix you win I will marry you.

you hated the smirk of satisfaction on his face but what could you do you can't let these people get hurt it was your job to protect them, so you went with Félix, and on the day of your wedding your subjects decided to try and rescue you and for a second you thought they would win but that was until you saw the smirk on Félix's face and he snapped his fingers and his thousands of guards came in and mercilessly murdered every single one of them your snow white wedding was painted red in under 5 minutes

"don't worry my dear I'm all you need"

Is what he said before he kissed you now your married to the man who causes you the most pain.

hey guys I think I'll make more parts of this stay hydrated and safe love you guys♥

[saturnicos]

Hi! Can you make a Hazbin Hotel Headcanons of how the characters would comfort a reader who is having a panic attack.

Yeah! Ironically, I had a pre-episode panic attack during a class today, writing this helped me avoid a meltdown.

Of course, if you wanted into a different perspective (or other characters, since I don't write many at once), feel free to tell me :)

HH cast comforting !reader having a panic attack

With: Charlie, Alastor, Lucifer, Adam, Angel Dust

Context: Panic attack can happen any time, without any motivation. Unfortunately, that's hits you more often than you would like. In a middle of a conversation with them, you start to feel anxious and afraid, eyes widening and an immense desire to cry appearing. How would them comfort you?

. Charlie

— Oh! And I created a new plan that I would lik.. — Charlie interrupts herself as soon as she sees his eyes roaming the room, your leg shaking while the sound of your heartbeat was heard loud enough.

She knows that happens with some frequency and often is ready when happen. Actually, she's a bit imperative and has its moments of generalized anxiety; although it's not the same thing, it has a basis of what she can or cannot do to help you.

— Honey, look at me, please — She ask to you, holding your hand and looking at your eyes with a serious expression in her face. — It's ok, you'll be fine, you're safe with me. Now, breathe in and out with me.

She starts as an example, taking a deep breath through her nose and releasing the air through her mouth. Despite your mind clouded with fear and derealization, your eyes locked onto hers, unconsciously repeating what exercise she replicates, feeling your breathing regularize slowly, despite the tremor and fear continuing.

She smile at you, holding your hand with a little more strength and delicacy. She moves forward with her free arm at her side, asking for permission for a hug. You, without hesitation, allow it, approaching her and hugging her tightly, feeling her face resting above your head, allowing you to cry into her coat if you felt like you needed to.

— Don't forget to breath, it'll calm yourself. I'm here for you.

. Lucifer

He knows what gonna happen even before you. This man faces various emotional and psychological problems daily, he recognizes very well when someone seems to have a tendency to have a crisis. Especially coming from you.

The first thing he notices is your hand starting to shake and your eyes threatening to water. He's quick to cup your face with both hands, making sure you're looking and listening to him.

— Sweetie, hear me. — He asks in a gently voice, making sure not to get too close to you for fear that this would only trigger a sudden worsening of the attack. — Calm down, I'm with you, there's anything here that can hurt you.

Even with his supportive phrases, your tremor only got worse as your blood pressure only tended to drop, slowly obscuring your vision and slowing down your breathing.

— Here — His voice echoed in your mind, as if partially clearing the intrusive and distressing thoughts. An angelic voice. — Can you tell me five things in this room, please?

You didn't know from where this come, but tried to see something even with a bad vision. And you did it. Then he asked for four things that you could touch. After three that you could hear, after...

When you came to, out of the derealization, you noticed the tactic that he used to calm you down: 5-4-3-2-1, a way to distract the mind of fear to understand what was around you, consequently making you come to your senses when you noticed the space.

He also noticed as your breathing returned to normal and your body gradually shook less and less, smiling at you tenderly.

. Adam

He's a bitch. A fucking bitch.

At first, when he sees your eyes watering in the middle of the conversation he will think that some comment or joke of his got to you, and sincerely? He'd probably find it funny that you're bothered by this at this point.

— What's up, bitch? That wasn't even that aggressive — He responded in a mocking voice, leaning across the table toward you. His tone of voice was filled with a visible desire to laugh.

However, when he noticed that you ignored his comment and were shaking unnaturally, the expression on his mask changed to one that alternated between doubt and amazement.

The mask's mouth constantly opened and closed, as if he were interrupting whenever he thought about commenting on something.

— Fuck — He sighed heavily as he let out an audible curse, getting up from his seat and heading towards him, but stopped next to you when he noticed that he was a piece of shit with emotional comfort, especially with words of affirmation.

With an expression of uncertain, he took off his terminator mask and threw it on the table, looking at the office door, confirming that there was no one there that could burst into the room.

He then crouched down next to you, watching you cover your face with hands shaking, stifling a sob. Not really sure what do, he brought his hand to your back, patting it friendly as a strange way of showing support, since 1. he didn't know how to verbalize it and 2. he couldn't do it. But deep down he would like to try and provide some kind of support.

— I have no fucking idea how to help you, but... You know, if you need a shoulder, you've got me.

. Angel Dust

He knows what it's like to have an emotional breakdown and derealization, after all, it is something that constantly impacts him almost always after the work.

Despite the solution he always seeks for himself be the use of medication and perhaps a little alcohol, he would never make that an option for you since he doesn't want to inflict drug use on you. Health reason.

— Baby, is a hug okay? — he asks you in a compassionate tone, bowing his head slightly to the side as he raised his left hand to rest it on your shoulder.

When you nod, he wraps you in a hug with all four of his arms. A comfortable but not strong hug, allowing you to leave if you wish.

— You need to stabilize your heart rate, you know? Do what I do — He then took a deep breath for a few seconds and then let it out, repeating the process two more times before encouraging you to try.

You snuggled into your spot on the couch trying to control the shaking and tears as you repeated breathing exercise with difficulty. At first it was painful and burned your lungs, but Angel advised you to try again as soon as you felt like you could try.

— I don't have work today, how about a movie? I promise it won't be any of my big movies, your choice. — He laughed quietly, trying to lighten the sad mood with a light dirty joke as he picked up the controller. When he could hear a low chuckle from you, his smile grew.

. Alastor

He literally has no idea what happened to you. Alastor died before psychology studies were taken seriously, and particularly he was never someone very social or interpersonal, then see you having a mental imbalance suddenly was ridiculously weird.

He just stood there looking at you with that stupid smile on his face, trying to find some logic behind your attitude so that he could do something about it.

After a given moment thinking, in a snap of his fingers he manifested a tea set in the center table in the room. However, the withering smell of coffee took its place when he took one of the cups for himself and offered another one for you - one that smelled like valerian, a plant that helped with irregular heartbeat.

He looked at you as he sipped his own cup of black coffee with legs crossed, as if waiting for you to go ahead and drink the tea.

You then gave in and drank, pouring a few drops into your lap due to tremor. The tea actually wasn't that bad. As soon as he passed by your throat, the effect seemed to have already begun, gradually relaxing your muscles and calming your fear.

Along with the feeling of relaxation, an aroma of oils penetrated the room, making a combination in the air of more diverse aromas and smells in a pleasant mix.

By your side, Alastor beamed a satisfied smile as he helped himself to more coffee, talking to you again, occasionally asking if you wanted more tea or if you felt okay.

I love sm write comfort, but thinking about the angst before is painfully sad//

Thank you for read, have a good day or a good night :)

[ronance4everbrainrot]

EEEEEEven more incorrect quotes! Merlin Academy Gang! AND MORE. Kinda long? Idk

(and ships)

Hook: Okay, who's turn is it to give the pep talk?

Uliana: It's Hades's turn.

Hades: Don't die.

Uliana, wiping a tear away: Truly inspirational.

(so beautiful 😭 I don't know how to explain, but this is canon now)

---

Maleficent : Now it's time for some witty back and forth banter. You go first.

Fay: *sobbing*

Maleficent : Look, I'm not sure where to go with that.

(She's used to her and Hades banter and fights. Fay still needs to get used to that)

---

Fay: What the hell is wrong with you?

Hades: I have this weird self-esteem issue where I hate myself but still think I’m better than everyone else.

(mm. Yeah.)

---

Hook: Goodnight to the love of my life, Morgie, and fuck the rest of y'all.

(just a normal day)

---

Morgie: *is throwing stones at Ella's window*

Ella: You have a phone for a reason, Morgie!

*THUD*

Ella: DID YOU JUST THROW YOUR PHONE AT MY WINDOW?!

(Love my little chaos goblin. He absolutely knew what he was doing)

---

Ella: Hey, I was wondering, have any of you guys ever seen Morgie’s bedroom?

Bridget: No, they refuse to let any of us visit. You know what that means.

Maleficent, nodding: Dungeon.

Hades, nodding: Rich.

Uliana , nodding: Homeless.

Ella, nodding: Secretly in the mafia.

Bridget: What? No, I meant they’re messy. What the hell is wrong with all of you?

(Hook not being there because he's in Morgie's bedroom right now. they are cuddling)

---

Ella: I apologize for saying 'fuck' in front of Bridget.

Fay: You just said it again.

Bridget:

Ella: I am not a role model.

(don't worry Ella. She knows worse. She just doesn't use them)

---

Bridget: Accidentally indulged in too much ‘free time’, turns out I’ve been reported missing for over six months and presumed dead by most local and national authorities.

(once she went back to wonderland and didn't text anyone anything. Just sulking in her feelings for Ella)

---

Hades: How do you do that?

Charming: I'm fearless.

Hook: I saw you run from bees yesterday. You flailed around and tripped over a chair. It was both hysterical and sad.

Charming: I'm mostly fearless.

(Mhm. But fair)

---

Bridget, on the phone: I better go…kay, call me later… byeeee!

Hook: Friend of Yours?

Bridget: Nope, wrong number.

Hook: ???

(Hey. She's not gonna pass on making new friends 🤷)

---

(add some glassheart)

Chloe: What do you call quantums of electromagnetic radiation that don’t get along?

Red: What did you just say-

Chloe: Foetons! *Laughs*

Red: Wh-what?

(love how Red is just confused. Chloe making puns/dad jokes. Canon, actually)

---

Ella: Please pray for Chloe.

Bridget: What happened to them?

Ella: Nothing, they’re just very stupid.

(not her own mother saying that (he doesn't know tho lol). But honestly that's after the vase incident.)

---

Red: Chloe, you're my best friend.

Chloe: Best friend? BEST friend?! Bitch, I'm your only friend.

Chloe: I'M THE ONLY ONE CAPABLE OF TOLERATING YOUR DUMB ASS!

(oop- true)

---

*The gang's thoughts on stabbing*

Morgie/Fay: Would never stab anyone.

Ella/Charming: Would stab someone in retaliation.

Hook/Maleficent: Yells "I won't hesitate, bitch!" first.

Hades: Would stab without warning.

Uliana/Bridget: Would stab as a warning.

(I wanted to put Bridget in the last one lol. Like if someone went too far and hurt one of her friends she'd be like *stab* don't do it again or next time it will be worse)

---

Uliana: You know you've made it when you see your picture everywhere you go.

Bridget: Those are wanted posters!

(yeah. Still)

---

Maleficent: *looks at Hades*

Maleficent: Baby boy. Bad Boy.

Maleficent: *looks at Fay*

Maleficent: goody two shoes

(changed it a bit lol. Also Me just randomly shipped Maleficent and Fay because gay. Just a crack ship lol)

---

Red: I got an idea!

Chloe: Does it involve breaking the law?

Red: By now don’t you think that’s a given?

Chloe: I was just trying to be optimistic.

Red: Don’t bother.

(GOTTA GET YOUR HANDS DIRTY! UwU)

---

Chloe: You're not my friend anymore.

Red: I was your friend?

(Red. You just called her your best friend a few seconds ago! She's just trying to play it cool. She's screaming on the inside.)

---

Red: Sometimes I talk to myself for no reason.

Red: Me too!

(oh no. She's mad. PSST. I HAVE THREE ACCOUNTS ON DISCORD AND ACTED LIKE TWO OF THEM WEREN'T ME. I HAD CONVERSATIONS WITH MYSELF, BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE WAS ONLINE AND I WAS BORED 😭 I was very invested in my own dramas that I created. It also started with only two accounts 🫠)

---

Queen of Hearts, to Red: You're starting to forget your Spanish. You don't practice.

Red: Lo siento. Estoy embarazada.

Queen of Hearts: You just told me you're pregnant.

Maddox: Congratulations Red, you're glowing!

(Red can speak Italian and Spanish and also has a hidden British accent. There, my new headcanon)

---

(a little surprise)

Mal, staring lovingly at Evie: I would die for you.

Evie, doing their own thing: Then perish.

(Mal, you know not to interrupt Evie while she's working)

---

Mal: As a responsible adult-

Evie: *chuckles*

Mal: … As a responsible adult—

(Eeeviee, don't do Mal dirty like that. Even if you aren't wrong)

---

Evie: What do I get?

Mal: A night of fashion, mischief, mayhem, and possible death.

Evie: Ooh, check, check, and check; not sure about that last one.

Mal: It won't be you.

Evie: I'll get my coat.

(what are they planning o~o)

---

Cinderella: What’s your greatest weakness?

Red: Interpreting the semantics of a question, but ignoring the pragmatics.

Cinderella: Could you give an example?

Red: Yes, I could.

(why does it feel relatable even tho I don't remember actually having done that)

---

Red: I don’t care what anyone thinks about me.

Chloe: Ok.

Red: Wait, why such a muted reaction? Did that not sound cool?

(Same Red, same Qvq)

---

Red, digging their grave: Long story short, this is ma grave.......Want me to make you one too?

(Omg Hunter! Is that you? ✨ love the owl house 😭😭😭. This is making me think Red fucked up a mission from her Mom. Like Hunter did.)

---

Red: I’m going to get so much done today.

Queen of Hearts: I’ll hold you to that.

*8 hours later*

Queen of Hearts: So how much did you get done?

Red: One thing.

Queen of Hearts:

Queen of Hearts: Well, that’s one more than usual.

(QvQ me TvT)

---

Mal, at Evie: You're my significant other.

Evie: Yeah I am!

Mal, at Celia: You're my child.

Celia: Yes boss.

Mal, at Uma: You're my bitch.

Uma: Yeah I am- wait, what?

Mal, at Carlos: My bestie.

Carlos: Naturally.

Mal, Jay: HA, GAY!

Jay: Fuck you.

(Jay x Gil 🤸)

---

Chloe: Wow! Celia made you cry?

Red, holding back tears: Yes, and they said some really mean things that are only partly true.

(Daaamn. She can do that tho. Wow fr)

---

*at an awards show*

Chloe: Can I carry you on my back like Mal did?

Red: I don't think Evie would like that.

Chloe: *pouts*

*Later*

Chloe: *carrying Red on their back*

Evie: What the hell??

Red: What was I supposed to do? Say no?

(Evie was panicking over Chloe's suit/dress because she made it for her. Do not ruin her designs. She will not take responsibility for what happens after that)

---

This was gonna be longer but I shall post it now anyway.

Hope you liked it.

Byeee

[virune]

Oh oh story prompt!

"After a rather long day, two very tired hedgehogs find out they've been sharing a secret resting place"? Hope that makes sense, just two hedgehogs being like "oi this is my isolated sleepy spot-" LMAO

Sonic was bone-tired.

Eggman had really pulled out all the stops today. Droves upon droves of badniks, all powered by a chaos emerald that the doctor had somehow managed to get his mitts on. Then, if that weren't bad enough, he'd even brought Metal Sonic along with him, if only to add insult to injury.

It was all over now, at least: with the help of his friends - Tails' smarts, Amy's perseverance, Knuckles' strength, and Rouge's cunning, the doctor's evil plot had been sufficiently brought to an end, one destroyed badnik at a time.

"Wasn't expecting you to join the party, Rouge," Sonic had told the bat, smiling at her as she dusted off her immaculate clothes.

"Well, let's just say I happened to be in the area." Rouge's replies always seemed to be intentionally cryptic, Sonic noticed. "And besides, any chance I have to knock that rotten doctor down a peg, I'll take. He's a nuisance for all of us."

"Hah! Can't argue with that." Sonic rubbed his arm, and then reached out a hand just as Rouge was about to fly off. "Wait! I - can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Big Blue." There was a twinkle in the bat's eye, one that Sonic only usually saw when Shadow was nearby. Speaking of which…

"How come Shadow wasn't with you? Is he… on a mission?"

"That's right." Rouge's eyes seemed to glitter even more, as though she could sense his disappointment. "Very important business. I'm sure you understand."

Sonic offered a smile. "Yeah."

"Why, were you hoping to see him?"

"What - I - no! I was just curious! You two are friends, aren't you?"

Rouge's hand found a place on her hip, pinning Sonic in place with a gaze that seemed to be able to find anything it ever searched for. She had always been so incredibly perceptive - especially when it came to Sonic's little… crush.

"Of course," she said, her voice smooth and nonchalant. It made his fur stand on end. "Don't sweat it, hon. I'm sure you'll get to see him soon."

Before Sonic could babble out a flustered reply, Rouge took off at last, disappearing into the darkening sky.

Wow, was it that late already? Despite his frazzled nerves, Sonic found himself feeling tired, mouth stretching open into a generous yawn. Well, since Eggman had been taken care of, surely it couldn't hurt to grab some shut-eye.

Luckily for him, he knew a nice little spot. Somewhere quiet and undisturbed. And it wasn't too far from here - at least, not at the speed he was capable of.

And so, with a final wave goodbye to his friends, Sonic vanished up the mountain in a cobalt blue streak.

---

Someone was in his spot.

Even from up on the bank, Sonic couldn't miss the orange glow coming from the cabin windows, nor the smoke billowing from the chimney. It was getting darker still, and somebody had stumbled upon this place and made it their own.

But who?

This old cabin had been left, seemingly abandoned, up on a mountain. Surely nobody could find it under normal means. Sonic himself only found the cabin because he'd decided to take a detour from his usual running path, winding up the mountain until he was pushing open the door to look inside.

It was a nice little cabin, too. Nobody came back to claim it so Sonic decided to… well, make it his own little place, so to speak. He didn't have any qualms sleeping outside, but sometimes curling up in front of a warm fire was nice too. So what if he wanted to indulge himself from time to time? He thought he'd earned that at least, saving the world as often as he did, and as he continued to do.

So to discover that someone else had snuck in while he'd been distracted made him a little annoyed.

He didn't want to just barge in the front door - after all, if they were capable of scaling the mountain, Sonic couldn't underestimate whoever was inside. Was it Eggman? Had he found the cabin somehow? Had he followed Sonic there and set up a trap?

Whatever the case, Sonic had to be ready for a fight.

He approached as quietly as he could; stealth was never his forte, but if he wanted the upper hand, then he needed to be delicate. After all, he'd hate for his beloved cabin to get destroyed in an altercation. Maybe he could take down the intruder swiftly, or find some way to lure them out before they fought. Keeping the cabin intact was his main priority.

Sonic went to peek through the window, but he grit his teeth with some irritation to find that the curtains had been pulled shut. Damn. What now? The front door lacked any windows or mail slot. How could he get inside without being noticed?

He saw it then. On the second floor. An open window.

Hah! Had the intruder completely forgotten to close it? Sonic took a couple steps back and gauged the distance - he could probably climb up. A running jump would be too noisy. So, giving himself a moment to stretch, he braced himself against the bricks and began to ascend.

His fingers hurt, digging deep in the crevices between each brick, but he pushed on. The window was inches away now. He pushed himself up, brushing the windowsill with his fingertips and hoisting his body up. Slowly, silently, Sonic climbed through and into the bathroom.

It was dark. But it was also empty. A good sign. That meant he hadn't been caught yet. He closed the bathroom window behind him before he tried the door handle, opening it as carefully as he could to avoid making any sound. It was so uncharacteristic of Sonic to move this slowly, but he tried his best, because his favourite sleeping spot was in jeopardy.

He tiptoed along the carpet at the top of the stairs and peeked down over the railing to see if he could spot anything. The glow was brighter from here and he realised it was coming from the hearth in the living room. Someone was using up all the firewood! Oh, the nerve. If they weren't dangerous, maybe Sonic could convince them to leave.

The first step creaked under his weight and Sonic froze, expecting alarm bells to sound off, expecting a trap to spring, expecting badniks to swarm him. Anything. Instead, nothing happened. The fire crackled. The peace continued on.

OK, well, he wasn't in trouble yet. He still had time to figure out who the intruder was. Taking a deep breath, Sonic made his way down the rest of the stairs. He was standing near the doorway now. The living room was just around the corner. He could see the shadows of a figure dancing on the opposite wall; whoever they were, they'd made themselves pretty comfortable on the sofa.

Sonic squinted his eyes. As he focused harder, he realised that the silhouette looked vaguely familiar. They weren't moving - were they asleep? - but he couldn't deny that the stranger seemed to have quills that turned upwards at the end in a way that was so distinct, so unnatural for a hedgehog to have.

He inhaled again, and he caught the unmistakable scent of lavender in his nose.

It couldn't be.

He turned the corner at last.

"You!"

Shadow jolted upright, the book he'd apparently been engrossed in falling from his lap and thudding against the floor. His red eyes met Sonic's, burning brightly against the glow of the fire.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Shadow asked.

"What am I - what are you?" Sonic cried, incredulous. "This is my cabin!"

Shadow removed the green woollen blanket from his legs to stand up. "Don't be ridiculous. I found this cabin months ago."

Sonic balked. That couldn't be right. He found the cabin. He'd been coming here regularly for weeks - months, even!

"I don't understand. This is my favourite sleeping spot. I didn't think anyone else knew about this place…"

Shadow retrieved his book from the floor, dog-earing the page he was on and sitting back down. "That makes two of us."

"So, spill. How often do you come here?"

"Couple times a month. When I have a moment."

"So do I." Sonic stepped closer. "Listen, I had to deal with Eggman today. Rouge was there. Where were you?"

"Elsewhere," was all Shadow answered.

Sonic clenched his fists. He was always happy to see Shadow, although he'd never admit it, but he wasn't happy about this new discovery.

"Alright, well. I'm pretty tired, and I wanted to rest here tonight…"

Shadow stared at him. "So?"

"So!" Sonic fumbled, gesturing vaguely to the door. "Leave! So I can relax."

Instead of leaving, Shadow tilted his head to the side. "Why don't we both just stay here? I'm willing to tolerate it, if it's all the same to you."

Sonic's mouth snapped shut. His face was warm, and not because of the fire. Absolutely not. There's no way he could relax with Shadow, of all people, around. Especially not in such a… comfortable, domestic setting. It was too much for him. He'd rather run a hundred laps through a blizzard than cope with his stupid feelings.

A hand patted the empty spot on the sofa, breaking Sonic from his thoughts.

"Sit. I want to finish this chapter."

Sonic frowned, willing his heart to stop racing. He eased himself onto the sofa next to Shadow, staring straight ahead. For some reason he was afraid to look. Shadow was much too close.

"Rouge recommended this book to me." Shadow's voice was soft and deep and it all but made Sonic nearly jump out of his pelt. "I'm about halfway through now. She expects to hear my thoughts on it."

"Oh?" Sonic dared to look, then, if only because Shadow's attention was directed down at the book in his hands. He scooted closer, just a fraction, to see what the writing was like. The scent of lavender was much stronger now. "Is it good?"

"I'm enjoying it," Shadow admitted. Sonic caught the ghost of a smile on Shadow's face and decided that he liked it, and would very much like to see Shadow smile more often.

"Good," was all Sonic could say, quite hopelessly, as he willed himself to relax into the sofa cushion. His eyes drifted closed for just a moment, exhaustion setting in as he basked in the soothing warmth.

"Let's agree that this cabin is off-limits for fighting," Shadow said. His eyes didn't leave the book, but Sonic wasn't so sure he was actually reading anymore. "It's too nice to ruin."

Sonic's mouth suddenly felt dry, but he worked hard to get his voice back. "Y-yeah," he stammered out, feeling like an idiot. "I don't think either of us will wanna give it up, right?"

Shadow hummed in agreement. "We'll just have to compromise. That means sharing."

"Sharing," Sonic confirmed. Despite himself, he found himself smiling at the idea.

Basked in the firelight, he snuggled just a bit closer to Shadow, whose body was as warm as the fire. He could probably get used to this, he reckoned.

Before he knew it, Sonic fell asleep to the scent of lavender and an arm around his waist.