kinicheous

[kinicheous]

home | kinich

for a person of natlan, falling in love with someone from outside of the borders might be the worst curse of all.

genres/notes: angst-ish, fluff-ish, mildly suggestive, mentions of possible death (let me know if something is missing!)

“how often do i have to tell you?”

on the other side of the door, the inn is buzzing with gleeful people. you can faintly hear them cheer and talk, glasses clinking and entertainers performing. on this side though, it’s quiet, so quiet that kinich’s voice reverberates through the silence. or perhaps it’s the proximity—his words fan your skin, that’s just how close he is as he hovers above you.

“i’m from natlan. i can get revived at any time,” he says. “you’re not.” he emphasizes his statement by squeezing your intertwined fingers, pushing your hand deeper into the sheets below you. “you can’t, y/n. one mistake and it’s over.”

you’ve seen kinich worried. he trusts you enough to easily wave you off every time you go on a journey, but at times where you return with more than just a couple of wounds, you can’t blame him for getting worried nonetheless.

today is different though. he’s never seen you this battered and patched up, and you’ve never seen him this upset. not worried, but upset, on the border to irritated. you can tell in the half-lidded eyes that bore into you, and the weight of it makes your own divert away to anything and everything else in the room.

“so, what? it’s like that for every adventurer, it’s not like i’m gonna quit being one,” you mumble, genuinely meaning your response but not able to sound as confident as you’d hoped, “besides, i came home this time too, didn’t i?”

a small gasp escapes you when his other hand finds your chin, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to make you turn to face him again.

“what about next time? what about the day you don’t come home at all?” kinich mutters, leaning even closer until his forehead rests against yours. “how often do i have to remind you?”

“kinich, i—...” you try to argue back, though words blending in with the room’s silence when you feel his breath tremble against your lips; beneath all that frustration, there’s a tinge of pain ringing in his tone; a pain that echoes into your chest as well and for a brief moment, it makes you imagine what it’d be like if the roles were reversed. you can’t imagine trading your current for anything in the world but you simply can’t blame him either.

you make another attempt. this one, however, is also shut down when the gap separating you closes without as much as a single warning—the desperation in the kiss anchors you to the plane of reality, and so does the next one, and the next one. you’re slowly given fewer and fewer opportunities to breathe in a way that isn’t through sharp inhales and yet, there’s a part of you that outweighs a need so primary human. kinich parts from you for a mere second, locking your eyes during that instant, before tilting his head to the other side, and as his hand slips from your chin to gently caress your cheek, you wish time would stop,

“kinich, i’m sorry,” you try again, barely getting the words out between dazed touches. “i can’t give up my adventures, i— you know i can’t.”

and he nods.

kinich nods, so pliantly, like he didn’t try to argue with you in the first place. he doesn’t want to, and he makes this clear as he at last parts, “i know.” he slides further down, just enough to attach his lips to the spot below your ear, slowly but surely leaving a trail of kisses down your skin. “i would never take them away from you,” he says, with a genuinity in the purest sense of the word. there’s another pause and the longer it lasts, the more certain you become that there’s a mark soon to blossom where your neck meets your shoulder.

“i just need you to take better care of yourself,” kinich declares between gritted teeth. you feel a second squeeze from his hand, the thumb of his other running across the corner of your eye, and that’s when he gives in; he detaches himself from your burning skin one last time, opting to settle into the crook of your neck.

“don’t make me remind you again… please.”

you’re not entirely sure when he let his entire weight drop on top of you, or when your legs tangled together. neither are you sure exactly when your fingers started to feel like they were about to break in the grip of his own, but that doesn’t really matter. the events in the rest of the inn have greatly increased, but you don’t care a particular lot about that either.

for the moment, there are only two people flush against each other, closer than ever as if a gap of even a centimeter would mean the end of the world—maybe it would, for you, and for him because in this very moment, nothing else matters except the fact that you both exist in it.

you move around the slightest bit, enough to nuzzle your face into the messy strands of his hair. your fingers find their way to his scalp as well, and he sighs in what sounds like relief.

“i can’t promise anything,” you answer bluntly, having no intentions whatsoever on sugarcoating anything, though follow up with a reassurance, “but i’ll try. someone has to welcome you back next time you get revived after all.”

it’s muffled, but the groan kinich lets out against your skin is loud and clear nonetheless.

“you’re such a damn menace.”

[kinicheous]

I LOVE YOUR KINICH WORKS. PLEASE MAKE MORE 😭😭😭😭

I love that u pair him with a strong in combat readerr

AAH thank you love <3 don't worry i've been heavily in my kinich era ever since i got him so i'll probably keep writing for him for a good while longer LOL

also thank you for noticing that bc honestly. honestly. i'm becoming less and less fond of the damsel in distress trope, like i need my reader strong ok 😭

[kinicheous]

cherry | xiao

it doesn't happen often, but sometimes you catch your boyfriend bolder than usual. this time, it's kind of your fault.

genres/notes: fluff, xiao is down bad, reader wears lip gloss (let me know if something is missing!)

xiao is staring. he’s definitely staring. you don’t even have to look up from your book, because you can feel how he’s staring the hell out of you, and archons is it making you nervous.

“you know,” you clear your throat, “if there’s something you want to tell me, just say it.”

you hear a quiet gasp, one that makes you feel a hint of victory. it’s short-lived though; xiao is quick to recover from being caught as he just hums from the other side of the table, propping an elbow on its surface, resting his chin in his palm. “nothing special. go ahead. keep reading.”

you, only half-heartedly, shoot him a glare from above your book, but regret it just as fast upon seeing how intently he’s actually looking at you. you quickly look down again, down at the inked words you hardly can focus on. “well, i’m trying, but it’s kind of hard when you’re staring holes through me.”

“even when your book is upside down?”

perhaps that’s one of the reasons you can’t focus.

nonetheless, you hurry to shift the book to its rightful position and return to the story with a groan of mild frustration, as if nothing just happened. 

something is off. he’s being different. he’s xiao but at the same time not, but it’s still him because he’s still as unpredictable as ever, in that one way only he is—you just cannot for dear life figure out what it’s about this time.

xiao knows though, he knows perfectly fine. he knew from the very beginning, as soon as he entered the kitchen just earlier this morning. he’d found himself oddly intrigued by the unfailiar tint on your lips; a gloss so subtle, but shimmering in a way that complemented its shape, your features and every inch of skin oh so perfectly. a new product you’d purchased somewhere? a gift from someone? hopefully not, he’d prayed, but at the same time it didn’t particularly matter where it came from. he did like to think you put it on for him — not that he would ever confess that — but was equally fine with knowing it’s probably for yourself. either way, it looks good on you. too good. was he always like this?

he never commented on it (still hasn’t, frankly), and had opted to simply take his seat by the kitchen table despite only having half a mind on the breakfast. the other half has been on your lip gloss ever since.

xiao wants to know what it feels like, what it would feel like on his thumb. he also wants to know if it has a certain flavor. at the same time though, he doesn’t want that, partially because it would mean wiping it off and partially because wiping it off felt nothing short of impolite. so he remains in his seat, admiring it instead.

you’re, on the other hand, starting to get impatient. sure, he doesn’t always speak his mind, but at this point it feels like he’s just messing with you. aware that you probably won’t get anywhere like this, you soon let out another groan, this one rather tired. you shut your book and slide it a bit further away, and his attention falters a bit as he both confusedly and curiously watches you slam your palms on the table to stand up.

“okay,” you puff out, trying to keep the eye contact as firm as you possibly can. it’s a bit hard, but by the end of the day it’s still just your lover. “something is up and i want to know what it is.”

the lover in question blinks at you a few times, actually a bit surprised. yet he can’t help but find the temper of a child you carry a bit amusing. he doesn’t take too long to collect himself and upon seeing the chance while it’s there, he finally moves just to mimic your posture.

across the table, xiao reaches out to hold your cheek in his palm. bold isn’t a word you frequently use to describe him, so it’s safe to say you’re surprised when he suddenly leans in, lips meeting before you can really process it. the way his move against your own isn’t as daring as the entire process itself, but there’s a humble tinge that one has to kiss countless of times to tell its eagerness and with the half-lidded eyes never diverting from you, you’re grateful the table is there to support you figure.

at last parting, there’s a faint red on his cheeks, but xiao isn’t as stunned as you are. he glances down at your lips, unable to stop himself from dragging his thumb across the corner where a bit of the gloss had smudged. he lightly smacks his own, and you soon hear him hum again, like he’s trying to figure something out.

“is that cherry?”

“y-yeah…”

[kinicheous]

kisses with him

ft. xiao, kazuha, kinich

genre/notes: fluff-ish, mildly suggestive (kinich) (let me know if something is missing!)

☁︎ xiao

it feels like a little secret, sitting alone on the rooftop of wangshu inn while bustling and gleeful conversations go wild inside, visitors unaware of you and the company next to you. very close next to you.

your knee brushes against xiao’s, so do your shoulders. in the back of your head you remember the first few times you sat like this, how beat red the adeptus used to be, flustered beyond one’s comprehension. it’s better now, but it’s amusing that you can still find remnants of it — tips of his ears tinted red, eyes darting over your every feature, lips parted from mesmerization as they burn in the want to lock with yours.

xiao’s fingertips merely feather your cheek, but when you lean even closer his palm curls to fully caress its expanse. it brings a smile to your face and for as long as it remains, he allows himself forget the weight of karmic debt, breathing out in what sounds like relief. the final push is the way you place your hand on top of his, the underlying sign of mutual affection urging him to close what’s left of the gap.

it’s a light touch, and xiao is so tender in the way he moves his lips against your own, almost as if he’s afraid the slightest pressure will break you; you’re simply too dear to him, a mortal being out of many, many others that he cherishes more than he’d ever even let himself imagine, and it’s that particular feeling that makes him push just the slightest bit closer.

it’s pure tenderness that the kiss conveys, and xiao knows the taste of it will remain on his lips even after you part. yet, it’s faint, so delicate and fleeting. it’s not enough, not for an adeptus who’s living through loving and being loved for the first time, so it makes you laugh a bit when he’s quick to lean in once again.

☁︎ kazuha

for his nature to be the definition of calm, kazuha must love to make all hell break loose within you.

at this hour, the crux is just about as quiet as the vast sea is tonight. the ship’s deck is empty, even beidou, who’d been up drinking until late, is sleeping soundly and nowhere to be seen. yet, he’s being awfully carefree and comfortable with having you held between himself and the ship’s railing when anyone could come out and see at any moment.

with one hand on the wood, the other is holding your chin in the other. the bandaged fingers of a sword-user feel rough against your skin, though you hardly notice that with how soft his grip is—he’s giving you a clear opportunity to slip away from the risk of being caught, but you can’t bring yourself to do so when kisses feather from the spot below your ear, gradually further up towards the corner of your lips. your stares lock for a moment, and kazuha can’t help but let out a breath of someone utterly lovesick. “don’t give me that look,” he breaks the night silence, “you’re going to drive me insane.”

and just like that, he presses his lips against yours. upon responding to the kiss, kazuha sighs in relief, revealing the slightest hint of eagerness in the touch. he shifts from the railing to hold you closer by your lower back; in the back of your mind, you wonder if he had anything to drink tonight, but you don’t think much more about it, instead letting yourself indulge in the love he’s so shameless about giving you.

☁︎ kinich

kinich rests his weight back on his palms, one leg curled up to his chest as the other dangles from the side of his bed. you’ve been yapping for quite a while now, but he doesn’t mind at all, entertained by the fresh stories of your most recent journey outside of natlan’s borders. with that said, parts of his mind isn’t even present, something which you seem to notice in the middle of your talking. “and that traveler actually had this flying little companion with he— hey, are you listening?”

the small smile he’s been wearing this entire time doesn’t falter even as he answers, head tilting to the side, “yeah—what about the traveler?”

“oh—... well, yeah. after she proved me innocent to fontaine’s iudex—i think they were friends, by the way—we hung out a bit, she told me about her adventures, and how she was looking for her brother…” your words, trail off a bit, the excitement turning into a pout, “but she looked quite sad while talking about him. i’m sure she misses him a lot.”

“that’s not really strange, is it?” kinich responds, “waiting for someone to come home can get quite lonely sometimes.”

the wording makes you curiously glance up, but he’s already reaching a hand out, his warm palm finding your cheek. you’d lie to say it doesn’t cause an extra skip in your chest, but you hide that with a smug grin, “are you saying you’ve missed me too?”

kinich doesn’t answer through more than an airy laugh, and it surprises you when he suddenly leans in without warning. there’s only a brief pause, one where his eyes dart down to your lips, before he locks them with your own.

his kisses are gentle. every time, without fail, but there are occasions they’re accompanied with a certain longing; his hand shifts from your face to the back of your neck, like he’s trying to keep you from retreating, although he knows just fine you’re not even considering it; it takes every bit of his power to not laugh when you gasp into the touch, all while he’s not even trying to hold back how he deepens the kiss. quite a way to welcome you back.

[kinicheous]

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[kinicheous]

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[kinicheous]

dazed | kinich

kinich comes to your rescue, but your oh so poor heart doesn't know how to deal with it.

genres/notes: fluff, angst if you squint, reader is down bad, reader is also injured/poisoned (let me know if something is missing!)

you feel embarrassed. flustered. warm, but in a good way. or maybe not, you can’t tell for sure. you want time to stop, but you also want it to fast-forward you out of the current. you can sense the parts of your body that hurt — which make the reason you’re in this situation in the first place — but your mind is too hazed to care about that really yet. 

kinich’s presence almost throws you off. it makes you let your guard down, but you also feel hyper aware of everything around you. you want to keep a healthy distance that will give the beating against your ribcage a break, but you also want to be closer. closer and closer, impossibly closer, as if you’re not being held against his chest at this very moment.

you’re conscious of every inch of his arm around you, all the way out to the fingertips that dig into your hips to further secure his grip. he’s careful about it, yet knowing just fine what he’s doing, seeing as his vines travel you through the dense jungles of natlan with ease.

the chill air should feel nice against your face like this, brushing it like gentle whips, but it does nothing to cool it down. it’s still burning terribly, and your guess is that kinich can feel it too as you subconsciously nuzzle into the crook of his neck. turns out you’re right because he soon sighs,

“don’t tell me the poison’s giving you a fever.”

you definitely don’t have a fever.

you don’t try to respond back with more than a shake of your head. much to your relief, he doesn’t question it any further. just a quiet “good”, and you realize that even one word alone has a special ring to it as long as it’s spoken in his voice — the more you comprehend that fact, the more pathetic you feel. 

kinich opens his mouth, ready to speak. he doesn’t have a particular interest in scolding someone who’s injured and poisoned to the border of comatose, but this is slightly different; on his way back from a commission, he’d just happened to stumble across your miserable state; it was surprising to see someone greatly familiar with combat crouching back against a tree, heavily breathing while in desperate attempts of hiding from tribal warriors. were you on a commission of your own? or fighting an informal battle? a misunderstanding? he wasn’t sure, but watching them about to gang up on a single, damaged person — who he, on top of that, knew very well — didn’t sit right with him. before you knew it, you were no longer on dangerous ground. or any ground at all.

kinich truly is ready to speak, but nothing comes out when he suddenly feels you fisting his shirt, tightly collecting the fabric between your fingers. so, he closes his mouth, letting out a deep breath through his nose. “stop being scared. i’m not going to drop you.”

you definitely aren’t scared.

you couldn’t be, ever. you trust him, possibly a bit more than you’d like to admit, and you don’t like this type of feeling — this type of affection, one you initially thought would be softer, sweeter and kinder, only to turn out to be much more violent. it feels rather like being internally assassinated, or like having your flesh dramatically ripped apart.

you simply never expected that falling in love with someone meant exposing the most fragile pieces of yourself. 

you can’t handle that any further, so you make a meek attempt to push yourself away from him. claiming that “you don’t have to carry me all the way back,” that “i can walk on my own”, yet it doesn’t surprise you the slightest when he holds you even closer with a scoff he doesn’t even try to cover.

“if i dropped you off by your door right now, i don’t think you’d even make it to your room,” kinich sighs and for a second, in the middle of your growing exhaust, you have to wonder if you’re actually feeling his lips graze the top of your head, “so just rest until we’re there.”