an. requested by anon !! i rlly loved writing this one since i’m jirai myself :3 btw lol, dead dove: do not eat
✦ KINICH
blood doesn’t scare him. you do.
kinich never flinches when he sees the fresh cuts.
he doesn’t ask why. doesn’t try to stop you.
he just sits beside you on the cold tile floor, eyes on your shaking hands, and mutters,
“that one’s deeper than usual.”
his fingers brush your wrist. not to clean the blood — just to remind you he’s still there.
no lectures. no panic.
he treats your scars like they’re part of you.
like poetry.
he kisses the newest one and whispers,
“next time, do it with me.”
you smoke in silence. he memorizes your mouth.
you’re both stretched out on the rooftop. his hoodie around your waist. your legs in fishnets and dried blood.
you pass the lighter back and forth like a secret.
kinich smokes slow. always watching you from the corner of his eye.
he never says you look pretty.
he just takes the cigarette from your lips and presses his mouth where yours was.
he lets the smoke linger on his tongue.
“tastes like you,” he says.
you blow ash into the sky and mutter,
“maybe i’ll disappear tonight.”
he exhales.
“not without me.”
he doesn't beg. but he waits.
you ghost him for two days.
no texts. no stories. not even your usual drunk posts.
he doesn't call. doesn’t panic.
but when you crawl back through your window at 2:47am, mascara wrecked, you see him —
asleep on your bed, phone still in hand, a pack of cigs and a candy bar on your desk.
he doesn’t wake up until you slide under the blanket with him.
his voice is scratchy when he mumbles,
“you smell like smoke and perfume. and i missed you.”
you don’t reply.
you just press your face to his chest and think, this is what being found feels like.
he fucks like he’s trying to memorize the way you break.
it’s never fast.
it’s never loud.
he pushes your thighs open and kisses every scar like a signature.
he fingers you slowly — two fingers hooked up, wrist flexing steady — while your eyes roll back and your voice breaks on his name.
he’s still got his hoodie on.
his cigarette burns in the ashtray next to your leg.
“you gonna cry for me?” he murmurs.
and when you do — body shaking, mouth open, hips trembling under his hand —
he says,
“good girl.”
you fall apart against him.
he kisses your damp cheek and keeps going.
he writes your pain in his notebooks.
you leave your journal open on purpose.
he always reads it.
he doesn’t say anything.
but then you find your words — scrawled in tiny, angry handwriting in the corner of his math notes:
“i think i’m in love with dying slow.”
he tears that page out and folds it into his wallet.
carries it like a photo.
when you ask why, he says,
“if you’re gone, at least i’ll still have the ugliest part of you.”
and for some reason…
that makes you love him harder.
💬 CHAT MSGS
kinich:
didn’t see u in class
are you alive or just pretending again
you:
both lol
slept on the floor. woke up ugly.
kinich:
you’re always pretty when you’re miserable
i mean that in a fucked up way
you:
i know.
that’s why i sent the pic.
kinich:
gonna carve my name on your thigh if you keep looking like that
you:
promise?
bring cigs ^_^
kinich:
i’m already outside
open the door baby
i’ll kiss you til you forget your name
✦ XIAO
he sees everything. even when you think he’s not looking.
you post your usual 2am photo dump — ashtray, bandaids, thighs half-covered in lace and dried blood.
caption: “rotting pretty again. don’t look if u care.”
you get no likes from him.
but twenty minutes later, he’s at your door.
silent. hood up.
he doesn’t ask what happened.
he just sits on your floor, lights a cigarette, and says,
“you left your window unlocked again. that’s dangerous.”
you crawl into his lap.
he lets you.
he always lets you.
you make him feel like dying. but in a good way.
xiao never smoked before you.
now he does it just to feel your lips when you press your cig to his mouth and say, “don’t waste it.”
he coughs on the inhale.
you laugh.
he stares at you like he’s memorizing the moment.
like if you disappear tomorrow, he’ll still know the exact shape of your smile when you’re three pills deep and calling him your “little ghost boy.”
“you’ll haunt me, won’t you?” you murmur.
he flicks ash into the dark and replies,
“i already do.”
he reads your scars like they’re lines in a book he’s afraid to finish.
you pull your hoodie off.
he sees the new ones.
doesn’t gasp. doesn’t flinch.
just breathes in slow and traces one gently with his thumb.
“does it hurt?”
you shrug. “it helped.”
he nods once.
kisses it, barely there.
“then it’s part of you.”
he never asks you to stop.
he just wishes he could take it for you.
he fucks you like he’s scared it’s the last time.
you climb into his lap wearing torn tights and cherry lip gloss.
you tell him, “hurt me nice, baby.”
he swallows hard. doesn’t speak.
he pulls your panties aside and fingers you slow, eyes locked on yours like he’s watching you fall apart in real time.
he mouths at your chest. your neck. your thighs.
kisses every old wound, every bruise, like apology.
when you come — legs shaking, lips bitten raw — he presses his forehead to your belly and says,
“stay alive for me. just a little longer.”
he would die if you asked. but he’d rather live if it means holding you.
xiao doesn’t believe in love.
didn’t, until you.
now he carries your lighter in his pocket.
sleeps in your fishnet hoodie.
texts you at 4am with nothing but:
“still breathing?”
when you answer, “barely,”
he replies:
“good. don’t leave me yet.”
you tell him he’s sick for loving you.
he leans in, eyes tired, mouth soft,
and says,
“then let’s rot together.”
💬 CHAT MSGS
xiao:
did u eat today
you:
vodka
does that count :D
xiao:
not really
but it’s better than disappearing again
you:
u sound worried
xiao:
i am
you scare me
but i love you anyway
you:
then come scare me back ;3c
come over
hurt me a little. not too much.
xiao:
i’ll hold you til you stop shaking
then fuck you like you asked for it
✦ KAZUHA
he smells the blood before he sees it.
you show up to class with a ripped sleeve and dried crimson flaking off your wrist.
you smile like nothing happened.
he doesn’t say a word.
just takes your hand under the desk and holds it tight — thumb grazing the edge of your newest scar, like punctuation.
you feel him trembling.
he writes you a haiku later:
you cut your own skin
but never carve out the ache.
i would hold it all.
you press it to your chest and don’t cry until he leaves.
he never judges. but he always sees.
you post another filtered photo — smeared eyeliner, cherry lollipop in your mouth, thighs bruised on purpose.
the caption reads: ♡ maybe if i die pretty they’ll love me ♡
ten minutes later, kazuha texts you:
“do you wanna come over?”
no lectures. no shame. just a soft place to land.
you show up in fishnets and a half-unbuttoned cardigan.
he makes you tea. wraps you in his blanket. reads you rimbaud until you fall asleep on his chest.
when you wake up, he’s still holding you like you’ll disappear if he breathes too hard.
you’re not a poem. you’re a confession.
kazuha has a notebook he never lets anyone read.
you find it once while he's showering.
inside are pages of your name, over and over.
your voice, your smell, your laugh, your pain — written like scripture.
one page just says:
i think she wants to die. i think i’d let her, if she asked sweet enough.
when you confront him, he doesn’t deny it.
he just whispers,
“i’ve never loved anything this much. it scares me.”
and you kiss him like a sin.
soft hands, rough intentions.
he touches you like you’re breakable, but fucks you like you want to be ruined.
he fingers you slow, tracing the scars on your thighs with his free hand, whispering:
“you hurt yourself so often… let me do it sweeter.”
he eats you out like it’s penance.
lets you ride his thigh with your fishnets still on, the friction just enough to burn.
when you whimper, “i’m close,”
he pulls you down by your hips and says,
“then fall apart for me.”
you do.
he moans your name like a vow.
you bleed. he writes.
kazuha keeps every cigarette you crush in half, every matchstick you break, every candy wrapper from your 3am walks.
he turns them into collages.
little altars to your pain.
once, you catch him gluing one of your bandaids into a notebook.
he looks up, cheeks pink, and says,
“it’s the first thing that ever touched your cut. i wanted to keep it.”
you tell him he’s crazy.
he kisses your wrist and replies,
“only for you.”
you both believe it.
💬 CHAT MSGS
kazuha:
did you eat today or just breathe in smoke again
you:
smoke tasted better than food
i didn’t feel like existing in public (^_^;)
kazuha:
you don’t have to
i’ll bring you tea and let you rot in my bed
just be here. still breathing.
you:
u say the sweetest shit
when i look like death
kazuha:
death has never looked so lovely
send me a photo
so i can write another poem i’ll never show anyone
you:
sent.
my blood looks pretty in this one
kazuha:
it does.
i want to kiss every part you hate
til it bruises differently
you:
do it then ;3
bring the wine. bring your mouth. bring the bandages.
✦ SCARA
he calls you pathetic. but he’s the one sleeping in your bed every night.
you post another blurry mirror pic: fishnets, cuts peeking past your thigh strap, smudged eyeliner.
caption: “woke up ugly again lol <3”
ten minutes later he texts:
“you’re disgusting.”
twenty minutes after that, he’s at your door.
he kisses you like he’s starved.
fingers digging into your hips like you belong to him.
when you pull back and whisper, “you don’t mean it,”
he scoffs,
“yeah? then stop posting shit like that if you don’t want me to get hard in public.”
you smile.
you both know he’d burn the world if someone else called you names.
he’d rather die than admit he cares.
you show up to his dorm wearing your usual: short skirt, ripped sleeves, bruises like accessories.
he looks you up and down and mutters, “you look like hell.”
but later, when you’re asleep on his couch — eyeliner streaked, arms covered in fresh band-aids —
he tucks a blanket over you and stares for too long.
“idiot,” he whispers.
then, quieter:
“don’t leave me too.”
he makes you cry on purpose. then wipes your tears with his hoodie sleeve.
you’re drunk.
you say something about wanting to disappear.
he snaps:
“then go already. no one’s stopping you.”
you flinch.
he sees it.
you leave.
ten minutes later, he’s blowing up your phone.
“don’t ignore me.”
“get back here. now.”
you come back and he’s pacing, furious.
he pulls you into his chest so hard it knocks the air out of you.
“say that again and i’ll never fucking forgive you,” he growls into your neck.
you sob.
he lets you.
he fucks you like a punishment. then kisses you like he’ll never get the chance again.
you wear his hoodie with nothing underneath.
say, “bet you don’t even want me.”
he slams you against the wall and grits out,
“you have no idea what i think about when you’re dressed like this.”
his hands are rough. his mouth is mean.
he fucks you against the mirror you take your selfies in.
moans low, possessive.
“you’re mine. you hear me? if anyone else even looks at you, i’ll kill them.”
you claw at his back and whisper, “yes, baby.”
he comes instantly.
later, he lets you fall asleep on his chest.
he doesn’t let go.
you’re a mess. he likes you that way.
you light a cigarette with your shaking fingers.
he grabs it, takes a drag, then says,
“you need help.”
you raise a brow. “gonna save me, then?”
he exhales smoke into your mouth, kisses you hard.
“no. i’m gonna keep you like this.”
you should be scared.
you’re not.
you’re in too deep.
he stares at your scars and mutters,
“at least now you match me.”
you laugh.
then cry.
he stays.
💬 CHAT MSGS
scaramouche:
why the fuck would you post that pic
are you trying to piss me off or just be a whore
you:
can’t i be both
thought you liked me like this
scaramouche:
i like you better with your mouth full and your phone off
keep playing and i’ll ruin you
you:
promise?
i want your fingerprints around my neck again
scaramouche:
you want everything
my hands
my knives
my fucking attention
you:
mhm.
want your spit in my mouth too.
been bad again.
scaramouche:
pathetic.
i’m outside. open the door.
on your knees when i walk in.
you:
bring gauze
i bled for you today
thought you’d like it :3c
scaramouche:
i do.
i’ll kiss it better after i make you cry
credits to @cafekitsune for the animated border lines!
i loveeee your writing for Flins!! could I request youkai (specifically kitsune) reader x flins
riotrants: honestly i’m surprised i haven’t accidentally re-used any pictures of flins…anyways this was kind of sad?? but i hope you enjoy!!
flins remembered the day he found you.
alone on the shore, seven fluffy tails sprawled out on the sand. he watched you briefly, assessing your level of danger. when your bright, foxy eyes met his, he was done for. your serenity coaxed him over, and before he knew it, meetings on the shore became nightly routine. the lantern warmed your fur, elegant fabrics draped over your legs. clawed fingers drew lines along the sand, your head resting against your beloved’s shoulder.
he was quiet, as he always was, but this was different. he was pondering, eyes sparkling with silent wonder and curiosity. “what is it?” you asked, voice poise and sweet.
“may i ask how you lost two tails?”
you paused your doodles, tails fluffing in discomfort. you brought one to your lap, running your fingers through the fragile fur. you hadn’t lost in a tail in a long time, but you remembered both losses as if they were yesterday.
“i apologize, i did not mean to pry—“
“the first one was…an instance of betrayal,” you murmured, “a fiancé i did not want.” flins held your hand, twisting the ring around your ring finger. “i was sold to him. rich, powerful. he was kind, at first. i rarely exposed my tails to him.”
he pressed a kiss to your temple. you smiled weakly, sadly, “the one time i did was the day before our wedding.” flins felt his grip tighten, cautious not to let the rage boiling within him explode. “he tried to kill me.”
“where is he now?”
you hummed, playful fingers tapping a rhythm on his hand. you didn’t answer him.
that was answer enough.
“he got one. he wanted my power, but the fool failed in his research,” you mused, “all tails. not just one.” flins felt you lean back, following you without a word. the sand morphed beneath your bodies, providing a comfortable place to lay. you lifted a hand, pointing out constellations you saw. flins gently nudged you.
“oh, right,” you blinked, laying a tail over him. flins had been with you for years now, unlike the buyer-bought relationship you had with your first fiancé. “the second was purely accidental, if you can believe it,” you smiled fondly at the memory, “i was in my fox form, trotting through the woods. an archer shot me, believing me to be food. when i went back to…this…he ushered me to a medic. he was kind.”
“was?”
“i attended his funeral some years ago. his family was beautiful.”
flins rolled on his side to face you, and you followed suit. he slid an arm beneath your head, allowing you to rest your cheek on him rather than the sand. he tossed his other arm over your waist, his hand gently petting over the fluff of your remaining tails. “you wouldn’t harm me, would you?” your voice was quiet, solemn, as if you were already accepting that one day, flins would turn on you.
“i would let harm fall upon me before i’d let it touch a hair on your head, my dear.”
“promise?”
promises were weak, unreliable. but with flins? the man who always went out of his way for you, the man who held your hand when you went on walks—the man who carried you when your feet hurt, and the man who kissed and hugged you every night before bed?
the forest knew her name, though she had not spoken it aloud in a long while.
it greeted her in small ways: a ripple where there was no wind, a petal falling before her hand could reach it. Morning lived in her cottage the way light lives in glass—quietly, as though afraid to wake her.
she spent her days among still things. paint drying, water humming beneath the floorboards, a half-finished garland on the table. sometimes she danced alone in the clearing, bare feet tracing patterns only she remembered. the air would glimmer faintly when she moved, like something remembering how to shine.
on that day, dusk came soft and sudden, and with it a wrongness.
the stream’s voice faltered; its music thinned to a brittle hush. she followed it down the slope, skirts gathering the scent of damp moss and iron.
at the bend where the current deepened, she found him.
a man—if man he was—lay half-submerged in the stream, as though the water itself had tried to cradle him. moonlight bled across his skin — pale as riverglass, fragile in a way that did not seem mortal. his hair fanned around him like smooth spilled ink, streaked with the faintest glint of silver where the current touched it, the midnight indigo tresses gleaming under the luminescence, slight wayward strands falling across his brow. frost bloomed from his fingertips, spreading delicate veins through the moss and stones. his eyes were closed, lashes trembling faintly, and for a moment she thought him carved of something ancient — a statue left to mourn among the reeds. the chill his still body emitted reached her even before she touched him.
she did, though. carefully. his pulse fluttered beneath her fingertips, faint as a trapped moth.
the water pressed close, shivering around his body, and for an instant she thought she saw something stir beneath his skin—a flicker of light, a seam of ice, a shape that did not belong to human form. then it was gone, leaving only the cold.
“stay,” her voice trembled, like the stream beneath ice. “you’re safe now.”
and perhaps the forest, ever faithful to her word, believed her. the frost began to retreat, the water sighed, and the man’s lips parted with a breath that sounded like the first note of a forgotten song.
beautiful. and yet, so cold.
❨ now playing... a space and time for you by HOYO-MiX ❩
❝ NEPENTHE ❞
★ feat. amnesiac!flins x naiad!fem!reader
★ tbh idk the wc 🤷♀️
★ planning on making this a series perhaps …?
before you read: female + mother reader ; husband + father flins ; again, you guys are parents aka there is a child ; flins is a girl dad To Me ; established relationship ; fluff and banter and a very light hearted and one sided petty argument ; not proof read ; GOOD LUCK TO ALL FLINS PULLERS TMRW MAY U WIN UR 50/50S
Flins comes home all of forty two minutes and thirty seven seconds later than he promised. Exactly. He walks in quietly—polite, elegant steps like always. You glare—a little quick tempered and easily emotional. Like always.
“You’re late,” you huff.
“My apologies, my light,” he at least sounds a bit sheepish, “I got caught up on the way home.”
“By what?” You raise a brow. “There’s nothing on this graveyard of an island but the dead. Conversing with ghostly women, were you?”
He lets out a soft, awkward chuckle. “What a colorful imagination. The fish were merely a little harder to catch today—our neighbors were not as quiet as I’d hoped.”
“Well…you’re still late,” you huff again.
Two glowy, golden little eyes peer from a corner, wide and innocent as they meet his gaze—he softens. Feels his heart warm and his chest tighten all at once. Feels the familiar push and pull of gravity tugging him towards that round face that peeks from behind the wall and watches the exchange.
“Well hello there, little one,” he hums smoothly, “I take it you’re less angry with me than your mother? Perhaps I’ll find some mercy from you?”
Your daughter brightens as soon as she realizes he’s speaking to her. Flins is still learning as he goes what it means to be a father—his newest lesson is that toddlers are less likely to understand his speech if he uses the lengthy words that he typically does. A difficult habit to break, of course, but a worthwhile one if it means communicating with such a tiny, yet brilliant mind.
“Papa!”
Little legs run towards him. One foot in front of the other. The delicate, gentle pitter patter of feet on the floor. He takes it all in—hardly blinks and hardly lets his focus shift on anything but the sight of his eyes and your smile on a round face coming closer and closer.
His. Yours. Hers. Her face is him and you and neither all at once. A face that is her own and takes up space in his mind with her own precious existence.
“Why hello there, my little light,” he grins, bending down to scoop her up into his arms. She leans in and presses a wet, messy kiss to his cheek. He beams—not a small, polite smile. No. A wide, upturned crescent on his lips that raises her to see the very joy that comes from her existence. “Were you well behaved for Mama today?”
“Mama mad,” she gasps.
Flins gasps too—such big emotions only deserve equally big reactions. “Mama is mad? Oh dear, that’s never good.”
“No good,” she shakes her head, “mama mad this much!”
She holds her arms open wired gesturing at the big pocket of empty space between her little palms. Children are visual learners, you tell him, they need to see to understand quantity.
He raises a brow, feigning shock on his face as he murmurs, “That much? My, my. That’s quite a lot. Is she mad at you?”
“No,” she gasps, “‘m good!”
“That you are,” he laughs, “I trust it. After all, I’ve trusted my little helper to look after Mama, hm?”
He holds out a pinky that she eagerly laces her own with, reminding herself of a promise that only seems to be between the two of them. (Look after Mama for me, okay, my little dove? he likes to tell her. Okay Papa! she always squeals back. It’s an oath they like to keep between themselves—two fae and the safety of their precious human.)
“Mama safe!” She says proudly, pointing to herself with a chubby finger. Flins grabs a hold of her wrist, bringing the tiny little appendage to his mouth before playfully nibbling, laughing under his breath at her squeals of joy. “No! Stop, Papa!”
“Don’t torment her, you fool,” you grumble.
“So I take it that it is I that is the object of your anger?” He sighs in faux misery, “Woe is to me, my darling. After I agonized over bringing my wife a decent catch for her evening meal.”
“Hmph,” you cross your arms, “what if something had happened to you and we hadn’t known?”
“The wild hunt does not attack this island very often,” he assures, “I take great care in ensuring that.”
“See?” You daughter whispers, leaning her forehead against Flins’s as though sharing a quiet secret, “Mama really, really mad.”
“Mama was worried,” you correct petulantly.
He smiles, feigning a look of utmost seriousness as he whispers to your little girl, “Shall we help Mama be less mad? Perhaps she needs some attention, wouldn’t you say?”
It happens quickly. She nods in excitement, and Flins beams in approval. Suddenly, two pairs of soft eyes that remind you of the sun herself turn to look at you, quickly closing whatever gap there once was. Your husband on one side, your daughter on the other. A cool pair of lips press a delicate flurry of kisses along your cheeks and forehead, while a messier pair of smaller, slightly warmer lips attacks the bridge of your nose.
Instantly, you melt, letting out a loose string of giggles. (How could you not? How could you cling to such fickle things like anger and fear when warmth insists on taking up room in your chest—filling you up lighter and lighter. And lighter so.)
“I believe it’s working, wouldn’t you say my little light? Mama is not mad—don’t you think?”
“Mama happy?” She asks you with a beam, just to be sure.
You giggle, rolling your eyes as you give your husband a playful shove as you bring your sweet, tiny bundle of energy to your lap. She looks up at you. Two eyes you’ve loved for so long carbon copied and cradled in your arms like a generous second gift. Your lips and dimples beaming back at you like proof that you deserve to be loved. (Why wouldn’t you? How could you not love all the parts of yourself when they are now parts of her? How could she be anything less than perfect?)
“Yes,” you sigh exasperatedly, “I guess I am. Since my little savior has helped me.”
You poke the tip of her nose. You still can’t decide if it’s his or yours—but that’s the part you like. The part where there is more time for her to grow into herself and show fill up for space in this world. The part where you will be there to learn all of it and know her for every inch of her. The part where you spend the rest of your life watching her and learning who she is.
“May I be forgiven for my dire mistakes?” Your husband presses his head against your shoulder.
You snort, rolling your eyes as you turn to press a chaste kiss to the crown of his head. “Perhaps if you sear me a wonderful dinner from your catch, then yes.”
“Then consider it a deal, my light.”
I blame every person who tortured me on my blog for the existence of this drabble to heal my own agony AKA STREI
Tags: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, eventual romance, slice of life, light angst (just a tiny bit), romance, soft Kinich, oneshot, swearing (Ajaw)
A/N: I'm on my genshin streak at the moment. Kinich is my favorite character (I guess it's obvious, cause his story is nearly twice as long as Diluc's XD) Also, just in case, anything related to Natlan culture and customs is purely my headcanon, just saying
Anyway, I hope you like it! Enjoy!
Read on ao3
Masterlist
Stage One: Acquaintance
The scorching sun finally descended. Darkness embraced Natlan, welcoming the comfort and the silence of the night.
Kinich walked home after yet another commission. The soft rustling of the trees calmed his mind like a nature’s lullaby. A deep sigh fell off his lips from exhaustion. His boots padded against the rocky road while Ajaw continuously complained for the sake of complaining.
“Kinich, you bastard! How dare you treat the Almighty Dragonlord like a servant AGAIN?” The little pixelated dragon raged beside him, turning red. “I’ll forever remember all the ways you threw me at those filthy bandits!”
“You’re okay, aren’t you?” Kinich replied without sparing his companion a single glance. His tired gaze was still fixated on the road home.
“Damn you, Kinich! Next time, I-”
“Help!”
The cry caused them both to freeze on the spot. The voice sounded urgent, desperate even. Kinich raised an eyebrow, listening, observing.
“You! In a green bandana! Please help!” The voice called out again, louder this time. Now, it was clear that the call was for him, and his muscles tensed. Judging by the obvious plea in the mystery voice, something dangerous lurked out there that had to be eliminated.
However, when he rushed further down the road, frantically searching for the source of distress, he didn’t expect to find… you, sitting on the ground under a tree, covered in leaves and dust from head to toe. Your clothes were ripped at the edges, and your hair was disheveled, probably from the millions of times you ran your fingers through it in frustration.
You gazed up at him sheepishly, as though a child caught in a naughty act. An awkward smile rested on your lips as you greeted him with a wave of your hand.
“Oh, thanks, Barbatos!” You breathed out in relief, your back straining painfully after hours of sitting.
‘An outsider, huh?’ Kinich thought to himself, his fingers capturing his chin, deep in thought. Still, he couldn’t help feeling dumbfounded. Where was the danger?
“Hi,” you pushed in between nervous giggles, the more he stared at you, expectantly. “I need your help, please. I was traveling when a group of bandits attacked me all of a sudden. I ran to escape them, but landed poorly, and now my foot has been stuck for… 2 hours? I’m not sure… Help me!”
It took Kinich a good minute to process the meaning of your endless rambling. Then his marbled eyes traveled lower to your foot that he had just now noticed was tangled in the tree roots. His head tilted weirdly. He struggled to comprehend how exactly one would find oneself in such a situation, but every person was different, he supposed.
“Loser!” Ajaw screamed as he materialized beside his head. He had a teasing grin on his pixelated face, clearly enjoying your suffering. “Getting yourself stuck like this? Just how clumsy humans can be-!”
“Monster!” You squeaked in panic. Your breath hitched, and your heartbeat quickened at the prospect of being cornered by a potentially hostile creature. You raised your hand, and a powerful gust of wind charged forward like a blast, sending Ajaw flying away until his pixelated form disappeared behind the hills and mountains. His screams echoed into nothingness as he disappeared into the starry sky.
At first, Kinich barely realized what had happened—only feeling the cold stream graze his cheek and ruffle his hair—but the pleasant absence of his companion’s annoying nagging was a heaven’s blessing. Then, the realization hit, and he noticed a gentle glow of an anemo vision pinned to your belt. Now your weird fall made even less sense.
“Phew, that was a close one,” you sighed, pride swelling in your chest as you eliminated the danger. Your face melted slightly in a tired but soft smile. Kinich didn’t feel like correcting your little misconception, deciding to enjoy the solitude while it lasted. “Will you help me out, please?”
He pondered your request. On one hand, Kinich wasn’t exactly known for helping strangers, at least not for a suited price. However, on the other hand, you seemed distressed and desperate enough to trust the first person you encountered to see you in such a vulnerable state. You looked thirsty, seeing the paleness of your face, your exposed legs—covered in cuts and bruises—trembled, perhaps due to the numbness, and your eyes, exhausted and blank, stared up at him with a silent plea.
Alright, he might make an exception this once.
Kinich fished out his obsidian dagger that he bought years ago with his first commission payment, and approached you in two big strides. He ignored your grateful squeal, instead focusing on setting your foot free. The blade moved diligently, slicing the roots like soft butter. All throughout, you never stopped rambling praises and thanks in his ear. If your voice were just a tad bit more unpleasant, Kinich would have taped your lips shut a long time ago.
Finally, your foot was free. Blood instantly rushed down your leg as you stood up, slightly wobbly and shaky. Whether it was the sudden numbness that zapped up your leg, or the endless gratefulness that overrode your senses, you fell right into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck as though he was your anchor.
“Thank you!” You mumbled over and over again into his neck; somewhere along the lines, you uttered your name as well. “What’s your name, by the way?”
“Kinich,” he replied, muscles stiff and rigid. His hand rose to awkwardly pat you on the back.
“Kinich,” you breathed out with a sense of relief. You pulled back and grinned. “It’s a pleasure to meet you!”
The man nodded in acknowledgment. He let go of you cautiously before turning on his heels and resuming his walk home.
“Wait-!” You called out before grabbing your backpack off the ground and rushing after him on shaky legs. The limp made it difficult to walk, but you persisted as you struggled to fall into step with your new friend. After all, no one would want to spend the night out in the open with dragons and bandits roaming the streets. “Is there an inn where I could spend the night?”
Stage Two: Bonding
Unfortunately, the only inn available for tourists was closed for reconstruction. Kinich felt a smidge of pity at your defeated face as you gazed into the wilderness. However, before you could ponder the possibilities of finding a cozy cave, the guy you just met waved you over with great reluctance.
“One night,” he told you, his piercing eyes eyeing you up and down as though to say, ‘Don’t get too comfortable’
You didn’t have to be told twice. Though you did have to resist the urge to throw yourself at him once again. Perhaps once you had gotten to know each other first.
You snuggled in a worn-out blanket Kinich provided, on his bed, while Kinich himself was situated on the floor. You felt bad for it, of course, but the exhaustion weighing down on your shoulders was stronger than your kindness. So, you plopped down on the rough cushions, passing out almost immediately.
That night, you slept peacefully, unaware of curious marble eyes peering at you from the darkness.
When Kinich woke up the next morning, you were nowhere to be found. Looking around, the only thing that reminded him of your presence was the neatly made bed and organized bedside drawer. Was it a token of gratitude from your part? Perhaps.
He wondered for a moment how exactly you snuck out without him, a professional saurian hunter, noticing. Especially with his schedule starting at the crack of dawn. Yet, he thought nothing of it.
You were weird, in his opinion. Not in a bad way, just… different. In such a short period, you had managed to create an impression of an adventurous and curious person. Now, Kinich had plenty of experience dealing with lively, hyperactive people—Mualani being the prime example of his never-ending headache. However, you were different. More tender.
Well, too late to ponder now. You had left already without leaving so much as a message. Not like he cared much.
“Kinich! Open the door, you bastard!” Ajaw’s furious voice broke the peaceful silence, slicing through like a sharp blade.
Kinich let out a sigh before striding to the entrance door. Instantly, he was hit with a wave of pixelated fury and complaints as Ajaw rambled nonstop about his ‘seemingly eternal struggles to find a way home because that lunatic (you) sent him flying into the stratosphere.’
“Yeah, yeah, come on, we’ve got work to do,” Kinich responded with a shrug, brain automatically filtering out his companion’s pestering.
Kinich left his little shack, ready to hunt for some commissions for the day, when he saw you, sitting on the edge of the ravine. You held a cup with some hot liquid, for he could see the steam even from a distance, your feet dangled excitedly as though you were waiting for something, anticipating. What were you waiting for at such an ungodly hour when even the sun hadn’t even risen yet?
“It’s that weirdo! That’s it! The great K’uhul Ajaw will show her what happens when you mess with me!” Ajaw was about to charge in your direction, but was roughly stopped by a pull on his tail. “Kinich! You asshole!”
However, curiosity got the best of him, so Kinich decided to join you. He released the grappling hook, and it stuck to the side of the rock wall with practiced ease. His body was immediately pulled forward, allowing him to reach the top in one swift move.
You shrieked, ready to fight off the enemy or run for your life yet again. You jumped from your seat, but when your eyes landed on a familiar figure, you released a sigh of relief.
“Oh, it’s you, Kinich,” you smiled.
“Hi,” he said with a short wave of his hand.
“You! How dare you treat the Almighty Dragonlord like a toy?? I shall burn you with my rage-”
“The monster is back!” You cried out in a panic and raised your hand to blow away the pixelated creature yet again; however, your movements halted at Kinich’s firm voice.
“Wait,” Kinich said with his hand raised to gesture to you to slow down. As much as he enjoyed the precious silence without Ajaw’s nagging, he figured that one trip to the space for the dragon was enough. For now. “He’s my saurian companion, Ajaw.”
You blinked at him, then at the yellow-green floating pixels beside him. The adrenaline in your system dissipated, and you burst out laughing.
“He looks funny,” your ruthless comment echoed through your giggles, piercing Ajaw’s ears.
“What?!” Ajaw flew towards you, getting in your face with his tiny paws. He flailed and cursed at you, yet he never truly harmed you. Only annoyed you. “How dare you insult the Great K’uhul Ajaw in such a crude way?!”
You grinned at the creature. Your hand raised to pat his head, and he halted. You were surprised to feel the soft texture of his… fur? Skin? Pixels?? You weren’t sure what to make of this dragon, but still, you continued petting him. “Sorry, Ajaw. How about I buy you a treat?”
“Hmm, I suppose I can forgive you, human,” Ajaw, the arrogant and prideful saurian, almost purred at the sensation, a few pixels on his cheeks turning pink.
“Thank you, Ajaw,” you smiled, your hand never ceasing the petting motion.
Kinich stood there, face black as ever, yet inside, he was stunned. Ajaw, the annoying dragon who only listens to the Pyro Archon, folded under your touch? Unheard of. He was intrigued.
“Why are you up so early?” You suddenly asked, switching your attention to the man before you.
“I’ve got work to do,” Kinich responded curtly. He approached you with cautious steps until he stood just a shy distance away from you. “What are you doing here?”
“I doubt you’d find my answer interesting,” you peered up at him, your smile tainted with a hint of sorrow.
Kinich noticed. His level of perception was never to be underestimated. He never said anything, instead softly lowering himself next to you.
So there you two (three) were – sitting in silence, yet it didn’t feel suffocating or awkward. The tension in your shoulders dissipated as you stole occasional glances his way.
Then…
The sun began peeking out. Its rays danced across the sky, coloring nature a gorgeous orange hue. It seemed as though every tree and every leaf turned gold at the mere touch of the sunlight.
You gasped, holding your breath, the cup of tea long forgotten as you set it aside. Your eyes were fixed on the sunrise, one of the things that could bring pure and unfiltered joy into your heart.
“Nature is beautiful,” you commented, still enthralled with the view. “I love watching the sunset. I think it’s the most captivating sight nature could provide. Which is why I like to wake up early in the morning just to catch a glimpse of it.”
Kinich turned his head to look at you. At that moment, in the quiet and soft bubble around you, he finally fully looked at you, and it got him thinking. Now, Kinich was a pragmatic person with realistic views. He tended to assess things with a clear head and cold calculations. Yet, listening to you, he couldn’t help but hum in agreement. While he never found anything particularly pretty about sunset, he still found some truth in your words.
Alright, you weren’t that odd.
Stage Three: Denial
For the next week, you trailed after Kinich like a lost puppy. No. Scratch that. Like a newly hatched chick that had imprinted on the wrong person and now considered them its mother.
One night at his house turned into two. Then three. And now, several days had passed while you familiarized yourself with the jarring environment of Natlan.
Surprisingly, you fit in instantly, immersing yourself in a new culture. Often you spent your time in the libraries, devouring one book after another. Whenever you weren’t reading, you’d stroll up the hill to see ‘where the wind would take you.’ It seemed as though you always belonged to Natlan.
And for an unknown to Kinich reason, you had always dragged him along.
“I have to try all the local delicacies! What are your recommendations? You know what? Just come with me!”
“I saw this one place in the guidebook. Where is it? Or maybe it’ll be easier if you took me there yourself.”
“You’re a saurian hunter? That sounds dangerous! Take me with you next time?”
Kinich didn’t exactly care whether you were present or not. One hyperactive person more or less didn’t matter to him. He allowed you to spy from the bushes while he pursued a tepetlisaurus. The commission said that the poor creature was sick, clouding its mind, thus forcing the poor guy to crush and attack anyone and anything it encountered.
You observed with quiet awe the way Kinich moved through the air, the grappling hook becoming his weapon. His impressive speed and agility left you speechless, and you couldn’t help but sing him praises on your way back.
Over time, Kinich had grown used to your constant presence. You often assisted him during his work, lifting heavy objects or knocking the enemies down the hill. You were no fighter, yet you tried. As you once said to him, “I live for fun and adventure”.
Mualani took a particular liking to you when you inevitably met her. She banged on Kinich’s door first thing in the morning, but only when no one answered did she notice two figures sitting at the top of the ravine, admiring the scenery.
The grin she wore when she jumped at you two from behind was indescribable. Arms locked behind her back, swaying as though preparing for a ritual, Mualani kept glancing at you as though she knew something you didn’t.
After that day, Kinich had two extroverts trailing after him.
However, one was acting particularly… peculiar.
Mualani made it her mission to play the cupid for the two of you. She’d drop (not really) subtle hints about Kinich’s single, sad, lonely, loveless, grey, empty, dejected, miserable love life. She’d release a heavy, exaggerated sigh, maybe shed a single tear for a better performance as well.
Kinich brushed it off like another one of Mualani’s witted antics, but why were you constantly blushing and never denying it? Maybe… No, you wouldn’t fall for a guy like him in a span of two months, right?
Right???
Stage Four: Desire
It all came to fruition on the day of the Natlan Grand Games.
The minute you caught wind of this event, you spared no time submitting your name, which you proudly told Kinich about.
The man cocked an eyebrow at you. Usually, only warriors signed up for this event. Still, he shrugged. After all, unlike the Pilgrimage of the Return of the Sacred Flame, outsiders weren’t forbidden to participate. It was a day to have fun and unwind.
Still, Kinich couldn’t help the slight tinge of worry blossoming in his chest. Foreigners and regular citizens were allowed to sign up, yes, but it never meant that they usually did. Over the years, this event had turned into solely for fighters. Meaning, you, an ordinary adventurer, would have to face seasoned warriors and soldiers, including Kinich, too. Were you gonna be okay?
Kinich’s concerns got crushed on the day of the games. The first competition was The Grand Race through Natlan.
It was a tradition for the contestants to arrive at the Stadium of the Sacred Flame by racing each other. It was a good way of determining their order, too.
All contestants waited patiently at the start line. You stood beside Kinich, warming up your muscles and joints.
“Once the race starts, we’re rivals,” Kinich commented casually as he rotated his arms. His voice sounded as monotonous as ever, yet you still noted the slightest hint of flurry. Almost as though he tried to say, ‘I’m worried about you.’
“I think I’ve told you before,” you glanced his way, rendering him speechless. Your eyes blazed with an ardoring glint that shone even brighter under the rising sun. “I’m here to have fun. And I’ll win you.”
Before Kinich could ponder your words more carefully, the assistant fired the smoke cannon. Green smoke rushed up into the sky, signaling the start of the race.
All the contestants took off. You winked one last time before you rushed after the others.
No rules, no restrictions, except for eliminating other contestants.
Mualani, last year’s game winner, broke through first. She mounted her sharky board and waved everyone goodbye. Chasca rode her gun like a cowboy. Varesa caught up to the two of them effortlessly before charging past and forward till only purple shocks of electricity were visible. Kachina wasn’t as fast, yet her drill car, one she adorably refers to as Turbo Twirly, proved to be agile enough to take the little girl up the mountain. Ororon was right there with Kachina, yet what he lacked in tools he compensated for with his masculine build and iktomisaur blood. Other vision holders fumbled at the start, yet were swift enough to at least stay within a good distance.
And among this whole mess of screams and adrenaline was you. You didn’t have a weapon or any means of transportation. You were a regular human, one prone to falling and exhaustion. Kinich thought that you, without any athletic background, would fall behind. But you managed to surprise him.
Your figure soared through the sky, akin to a bird. The vision on your belt glowed like a star in the night as you commanded the wind to carry you with a wave of your hand. You laughed with a full chest as though it was the greatest moment of your life.
At that moment, Kinich felt his heartbeat accelerate. The look on your face wasn’t the one of horror and anxiety that he anticipated. You looked so… happy and free, like nothing at that moment ever mattered. You moved through the obstacles as if you were the wind spirit itself.
With bated breath, Kinich watched you weave through the mess of trees.
When you jumped off the mountain ledge, he barely restrained himself from following and rescuing you.
All throughout, you laughed, fueled by competitive tension and adrenaline. Never before had you looked more gorgeous than at that moment.
The sight of the stadium brought a new edge to your movements. You accelerated. Sprinting as though running for your life. In a sense, you were. The thrill, the adventure, it was the sole purpose of your existence.
To no one’s surprise, Varesa was the first at the finish line, though perhaps overdid it slightly when she nearly crashed into the wall. She managed to slow down her movements at the crucial moment, yet couldn’t prevent falling face down at the impact.
Mualani came second, striding into the stadium with a little dance and a peace sign. Chaska landed perfectly, fixing her hair as though she had just gone for a stroll.
Screams and cheers erupted as the crowd anticipated with bated breath, guessing who would cross the line next. The noise only grew louder when they saw… you, practically throwing yourself onto the stage. Your body tumbled down, rolling around itself a few times before coming to a full stop.
You lay on your back, chest heaving intensely as you gasped for air. Your face burned with heat as sweat dripped down your forehead. Still, the expression on your face displayed nothing but utter joy. Melodic laughter flowed out of your mouth, eyes sparkling with an excitement and thrill you hadn’t felt in years.
Mualani released a shrill before she jumped toward you. “You were incredible!” The girl squealed excitedly as her body broke into another dance improvisation.
Chasca grinned and nodded along in acknowledgment while Varesa was busy devouring a triple sandwich she pulled from Archon knows where.
When Kinich joined you in the stadium a minute later, you leaped to your feet before wrapping your arms around his neck. You smiled brightly, feeling your accelerated heartbeats sync.
“Kinich, I did it!” Your voice was loud, infused with the power of personal victory. And against your better judgment, or perhaps intentionally, your lips pressed a firm kiss on the boy’s cheek.
Kinich stood there, stunned and confused. He could practically feel the burn of expectations wafting off his friends. But why did his heart beat faster, and his mind short-circuit, sending unfamiliar jitters down his limbs? He didn’t know, yet his hand raised to awkwardly pat your back as his face turned a bright shade of red.
“Congrats,” his voice was a mere whisper. It sounded hushed and intimate, something meant only for you to hear. And you did.
Stage Five: Love
The following 5 months, you spent getting accustomed to Natlan’s culture. You enjoyed exploring the terrain, learning about the peculiar environment of the Nation of War. You studied the customs with the dedication of a scholar, eager to know everything there was to their culture.
Children and saurians at the Scions of Canopy loved you and your stories. It was a norm to gather before the stage in a tight circle and listen to the tales of your adventures. The chief even offered you a position as a teacher, which you politely declined and continued your storytelling.
Kinich was always there, either by your side or quietly observing from the shadows. He grew used to your presence. Moreover, he yearned for it, unbeknownst to himself. At some point, it became natural to share the commissions with you, and a simple celebratory dinner afterward morphed into a sacred tradition, one he felt unworthy to break.
His friends accepted you a long time ago with open arms and loud cheering… akhem… Mualani… akhem. You became a constant in their lives, bright and cheerful. You became natlanese.
Which was why the news of your departure rattled the air like thunder.
You were much quieter than usual that day, zoning out and mumbling under your breath. Kinich didn’t think much of it at first, thinking that perhaps you had a bad day. The commission you accepted wasn’t the easiest one, so perhaps you were overthinking your performance. It didn’t matter, though. Some delicious food, and your mood would improve significantly.
Then, as you walked home, you dropped the news.
“I’m departing for Mondstadt tomorrow morning.”
Your words made Kinich come to a complete halt. He stood there, bathing in the moonlight as his mind rushed to process the meaning of your declaration. Even Ajaw fell silent, slowly descending to earth like a deflating balloon.
“Oh,” was all Kinich could say. His gaze dropped to the ground, fists clenched, and chest tight. His expression remained blank and reserved as ever, yet inside he felt a surge of emotions wash over him like a tsunami and knock him off his feet. Still, he didn’t show it. He couldn’t.
“I will be back,” you hastily added, hoping to lighten the mood even just slightly. However, just as quickly, your face fell into a poorly masked sorrow. “Just… not sure when…”
“That’s cool,” some would say that Kinich’s response was harsh and cold, like he didn’t care, or even wished for your departure. However, after spending months glued to his side, you knew better.
You could see the corners of his lips twitch, or the way his shoulders tensed with something heavy and burdening. Kinich was never good at showing grand emotions. He was a simple guy with his mind set on his goals and taking steps toward them. Yet, at that moment, you saw the cracks breaking through the tough exterior. Your heart clenched, craving nothing but to say it was just a joke, but you couldn’t.
You wanted to leave quietly, without drama and tears. However, when you got ambushed at the entrance of Natlan, you knew your wishes weren’t met.
Kachina ran at you before wrapping her small arms around your waist. Her sky-blue eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her lower lip wobbled as she pinched it between her teeth. She mumbled something incoherent while nuzzling her face into your stomach. “Please don’t go…”
You nearly cried yourself, blinking multiple times to force the tears away. You threaded your free hand through Kachina’s hair in soothing motions, hoping it would help calm down the little girl. “I have to… My family is waiting for me. I’ve been away long enough, I can’t just leave them in the dark.”
“Why you never said anything? We could’ve at least thrown you a goodbye party!” Mualani complained loud and clear as she flailed her arms.
“Selfish peasant! Abandoning the Almighty Dragonlord like that? Have you got no shame?” Ajaw popped at your side and floated around you, berating you nonstop. You giggled at his dramatism.
“We just wanted to wish you a safe journey,” Kinich said as he promptly joined the group. Your pulse quickened upon seeing him, and your heart dropped to your stomach at the realization that you wouldn’t see him for a very long while… if ever at all.
Kinich appeared the same, yet the dark circles under his eyes told you that he barely got a wink of sleep last night.
“Can I talk to you alone before you go?” Kinich asked, glancing at Mualani and Kachina, silently asking for some privacy. He shot Ajaw a glare as though saying that the same applied to him.
Mualani, ever the empath, caught up on it immediately and ushered her friend as well as the pixelated saurian away. At last, she threw one last glance your way. Her eyes softened, full of concern and hope.
“I got something for you,” Kinich said once the others were out of earshot. His voice was tender, anxious, almost like something bigger was hiding beneath the low timbre.
You watched him pull something small out of his pocket. The item wasn’t one you could recognize right away, but once you took a proper look at what exactly Kinich held out for you, your heart nearly stopped. Your eyes grew impossibly wide, breath hitched, threatening to explode your lungs from the inside out. You had read about it. One of the oldest traditions that nowadays was more of an option rather than an obligation. It was a token of determination and desire, for it was crafted with feathers and scales from all six saurians that resided in Natlan, carefully woven together into one piece.
A courtship bracelet.
“Kinich… I…” You were at a loss for words. Such an abrupt gesture wasn’t something you expected from your aloof and reserved friend. Perhaps you were unsure of his feelings toward you, or never took him for the romantic type.
So, as a proper response, you thought of nothing but to lean in and capture his lips in a gentle kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed, arms wrapping around his neck just to feel him closer. His palms gripped your waist, pulling you into his body as though he didn’t want to let you go. Although it wasn’t far from the truth.
Your chest tightened with overwhelming emotions that you could no longer contain. Tears slowly trickled down your face until you could taste that salty flavour on your tongue. You didn’t care, nor did Kinich. You craved only one thing – to engrave the sensation of this kiss into your memory, have it burn in your mind like a beacon of hope.
At last, you pulled away, breathless, cheeks wet and burning. You accepted the bracelet and slipped it on your wrist as though it were holy. The size fit just perfectly, making you smile to yourself.
“I’ll treasure it, I promise,” you uttered, wiping away your tears on the hem of your t-shirt.
And just like that, you were gone, slipped through his fingers like loose sand. You appeared in his life unexpectedly. You wove yourself into the routine Kinich had built over the years, and then left, leaving an empty hole, one he wasn’t sure would ever close.
Natlan fell back into its usual way of things. Kinich resumed his regular job of completing commission after commission. He tried to go back to the way things were, but still, every day without fail, he started out his day by watching the sunrise with a cup of tea.
How did you manage to engrave yourself in every aspect of his life?
No matter where Kinich went, he could picture your silhouette crouching by the bushes, or your giggles any time a friendly saurian got a little too curious and tried to steal his share of cuddles.
Even your scent lingered on his pillow for a while. At night, he sometimes pictured your face, your soft touch, and, of course, the heat of your lips on his. The memories made his chest tighten.
Yet, deep inside his heart, Kinich harboured just a tiny flicker of hope that one day you’d come back.
3 years had passed since your departure. Kinich found his rhythm and stuck with it. Slowly, but eventually, the ache in his heart eased into a dull buzz. Occasionally, his mind would drift to thoughts of you. Were you okay? How were things back home? Did you make it safely? He could only wait and see.
The day seemed to stretch impossibly long. The job of tracking down a group of poachers took longer than he’d like. By the time he finished, the sun had already set, offering its throne to the night.
Kinich walked home, rolling his eyes at the never-ending complaints of his saurian companion, when…
“HELP!” The cry for help alerted his senses. His marbled eyes flicked to the source of the voice. It came somewhere from the forest, clear enough to know the person was close.
Kinich moved swiftly. Ignoring a sense of deja vu, he weaved through the trees, frantically searching for the danger. However, he was greeted by nothing but silence. The boy was about to leave when a body suddenly slammed into his back.
Eyes widening in shock, his instincts screamed at him to shake off the weight of the enemy. But then, he caught a glimpse of a familiar bracelet on the person’s wrist. And then, his senses got invaded by a scent. Your scent.
Kinich finally looked back, only to see your face, grinning at him the same way you did 2 years ago. You didn’t change much – slightly slimmer, your hair grew a few inches, yet the same adventurous twinkle in your eyes only seemed to blaze brighter.
“Did you miss me?” You asked in a teasing voice, arms still wrapped around his neck. You giggled at his stunned expression, mentally marking your surprise mission a success.
“Good gosh, the peasant is back! You sure took your sweet time!” An array of angry red pixels twirled around you as Ajaw cried profanities at you, yet you could locate the hint of longing in his voice. That fact made you giggle, and you reached your hand to pat his head the way you used to.
“Long time no see, Ajaw,” you grinned at him, and the saurian melted.
Meanwhile, Kinich just stared at you. His pupils were blown, eyes widened ever so slightly. Time froze in the moment, the longer he looked upon you like at a mesmerizing illusion. Though Kinich recovered rather quickly as he captured you into his embrace almost instantly. “Welcome back,” he whispered reverently into your ear, his grip tightened, as though afraid that it was nothing but a dream.
“Sorry I took so long,” you gladly returned the hug, nuzzling impossibly closer. Your heart soared, feeling complete again. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”
Kinich pulled away to look at you in confusion. He tilted his head as though asking for clarification. To which your grin widened, and he saw your eyes sparkle. Did you mean what he thought you meant?
“That’s right,” you said, leaning closer to brush your lips against his. “I’m moving to Natlan.”
"rerir doesn't like it when you're quiet, he wants to know what you're thinking about"
'okay so there's this guy called William Afton, right-'
"Okay- And he has a friend called HENRY. EMILY. right? did you get that? HENRY. EMILY. please note down his name it's going to be really important later on-"
LMAOOO yOU start explaining the FNAF lore only to watch rerir SPEEDRUN the five stages of grief, realising he's SOMEHOW still attracted to you.
i need a fic where hannibal or will is still a virgin
Oh this would definitely occur in college or university for Will. The shy, never stay at one place, timid boy just roaming the hallways. Until he is suddenly dragged into the quieter part of the building.
Your hand around his wrist. Dragging him away from eyes as he keeps his down. His lips parting to protest but the warm touch of your palm on his skin making his pale skin crimson red.
Not even a minute later, he is pushed against the wall. Your lips against his neck as your kiss however you like. One hand wrapped around his needy cock. His hands spasming against the wall.
Your wrist moves in slow shallow speed as you kiss the entirety of his neck. Free hand holding the back of his neck. Whimpers and whines leaving him, poor Will. Always a victim of your mind.
"want everyone to hear?", you whispered against his skin. A soft click of your tongue as you feel him leak more. But his lips lie. Head shakes from side to side. He is trying to keep his composure. He really is.
His eyes fluttering. Shallow breathes to mask the, once in a while, whimpers. Hand gripping the brick wall. Fisting to give himself strength.
But his hips still chased your hand. It still made his knees buckle. Sweat still formed on his skin. But when you did slide rightly once on his cock. His eyes closed.
Strings of curses and your name just slipped past without a care for anyones ear. Now, thankfully your other hand pressed against his soft lips to muffle them.
Almost falling to the floor as his hand clutched his bag, soft sobs leaving him. The orgasm making his eyes water. Your hand helped him calm down. Prolonging it to an end before you let his dick go. Slowly falling limp.
His deep breaths still echoed the empty hall as you chuckled. Taking out his handkerchief to wipe your hand before folding it neatly and putting it inside your own bag.
"a souvenir or maybe, something to return?", you said before pressing a kiss on his cheek and leaving him. A mess against the wall.
If this is how you repay him for helping out on a quiz. What would he get when he submits the important assignment he has done for you without your knowledge?
Having alot of thoughts about student!will and it's piling up. Would y'all like a student!will x student!reader?
Maybe back when he was just an awkward and shy boy. Not the man he is today. But the one who would push up his glasses while talking or answering a question.
Or maybe blush and avoid eye contact when you hold his cheek and say thank you because he helped you out on an assignment or quiz?
Or when he is clutching the bedsheets with an iron fist as you drag yourself up and down his cock. Eyes shut closed, lips parted to let out the pathetic whines and pleads as you truly thank him for the help he gives you. You are always up for returning the favor.
For those in the US, there is a petition demanding a recount and revote as well as an investigation about the sudden change in support. Your voice matters and I encourage you to sign!
vaporwave
kaledo-art
turnnoffyourmind
blakekathryn
kianamaiart
dailybridgerton
