ꫂ᭪ ˖ ࣪⊹ ˖ ꒰ঌAngel Bunny໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ꫂ᭪ ݁

Now, growing up in a world where abilities (powers) exist in plenty of people, when she gained her ability, the town was unsurprised, but suddenly started amping their requests, and sometimes even begging for forgiveness, finding her in the middle of the day simply to put their troubles on this young girl, who they believed to be a real angel sent from heaven. With wings of pure white feathers and remarkable size, and a halo dripping of gold, her father was also very impressed. 

Unfortunately, though, as the girl got older, she started seeing weird things with the people of the town, including her father. As she developed, her father grew closer, touchier, but claimed it was all for God, he was just cleansing her for the people. Ana’s mother revered her for it, fighting with not only her father, but her as well. One night, after coming home from a church confessional, Ana was making dinner. Her father comes near and thanks her for being such an angel. It wasn’t unusual; he always praised her. But he talks with venom in his teeth. Tells the girl that she would make a better wife than her mother ever was, which made her freeze. She does nothing, unsure of what to say or do, so she just smiles and thanks him. But he doesn’t stop saying it for the next few nights, which keeps the girl up at night. Cries fill her room at night, and her wings droop with the weight of the world. The town, the people and their problems, her father wanted to marry her and she was confused. So, on the night of her 17th birthday, without thinking, she runs. She runs far. She runs for hours, wherever her feet would take her. Eventually she ends up in the city. And from the city she gets a job. She finds she is clueless; what she knew of that small town is nothing when she is in the city. Here, the men are crude and the women are jealous. Anastasia did not know what to say or think, only silently praying they would get better. Time passes and eventually she has enough money to sneak out of the country. So, at night, she sneaks on a cargo ship headed for Japan. She prays for forgiveness as if something would happen to save her from the life she left. 

2-year timeskip!!  

Anastasia is 19 when she is found in her small apartment, reading her bible that she was gifted by someone she met along the way. Suddenly, her world goes black and she’s asleep. When she wakes up, she’s in a dark room, dimly lit. It looks like a meeting room, minus the long table and plenty of chairs. The only chair is the one she's sitting in, and the one on the complete opposite side of the room. A man, very clearly not from here, sits in the opposite chair. She was smart enough to know struggling would just make it worse. The man speaks low; a Russian accent spills. She tilts her head, not having heard a Russian accent in so long, she almost forgets to breathe hearing it. But his words are menacing. He wants her to join his organization. It's for the better of the world. Her ability is what they need to achieve their goal.  

And so, she joins. The man had a fascination with her. And she soon became an example of what they were called. The Decay of Angels. And eventually, she became a machine. Her whole perspective changed. The world was cruel. People were ruthless and would do anything to please themselves. She started seeing things for what they are rather than a thing to fix, as much as she may pray for them to get better. She learns to use her power to lure and lull, and when she Fyodor helped her reach her full potential? She was sent on a mission. A partner mission, but with someone she had never worked with before. A man, standing 6 feet tall, in clown attire and a card covering his left eye. He is interesting to look at. And he looms, which makes the girl nervous. 

Find a man, one who killed a family, and restore peace and order. As Fyodor says, “Man is sinful and foolish... Even if they know it is all an artifice, they cannot help but kill each other. Someone must purify them for those sins.” and I have to agree. To commit crime is to sin, and when you sin, you must repent. If you do not repent? Well, someone must purify you. 

The mission went smoothly. She finds that her partner’s name is Nikolai. A Ukrainian man with the personality of an annoying, yet deranged, teenage boy. He was in no way normal, but he claims to be sane. She finds she cannot blame him. But the two make a great pair. Plus, Anastasia doesn’t have to get her hands dirty, meaning she does not need to repent for her sins; she is protecting. 

For the next few months, Nikolai and Anastasia go on missions together often. Fyodor says they make it more efficient. But Anastasia thinks otherwise. Although eventually, she finds herself thinking about the theatrical man more often. But she questions herself. She could never feel free again; everything comes at a cost. So why does she become happier whenever he seems to be around? 

This continues for another few months before Anastasia realizes she’s fallen in love. And the one she’s fallen in love with? The same man she thought was annoying and complained to Fyodor about constantly. Fyodor had stopped her in the middle of her complaining and questioned her. 

“Well, Anastasia, how can you hate a man you so clearly seek attention from?” 

Anastasia stopped in her tracks, where she was pacing before, and looks at Fyodor. Then on the floor, silent. Thinking. 

“...I do not... Do I really?” 

“My dear, you really need to pay more attention,” He sighs, crossing his legs and flipping a page in the book he seemed to be “reading”. 

“You are not the only one in this situation.” 

“What does that even mean?!” Anastasia shrieks, watching Fyodor smile, not giving any more information. Ana groans and leaves the room, left to sit with her thoughts and the words Fyodor has left her with. 

Days later, Nikolai keeps trying to annoy her. But instead of bringing random objects like mice, or bullets, or other random items, she does not want to know where he got them from. No, this time, Nikolai has brought flowers. 

Anastasia blinks, staring at the flowers. White lilies. A lump forms in her throat. Those were her favorites. Where did he get them? And why..? Ever since she left the church behind, she never wanted to touch them again, fearing the meaning would haunt her. 

“Oh my! Dear dove, are you scared?” Nikolai grins, his eyes dulling as he holds out the flowers in front of her. “Hehe, I never wanted to... But I do like that look on your face. You’re so cute when you don’t know what to say.” 

“W... What is this?” She asks. Finally, looking up at Nikolai, slightly flustered yet still frightened. 

“A confession, dearest. Must you be so clueless?” He giggles, tilting his head like a puppy. 

“Confession... to me?” She asks stupidly. 

“Who else?” Nikolai quirks a brow, still holding the lilies. 

“Ah... good question. Well...” Ana pauses, staring at the lilies before reaching out to take them, her palms burning as she lays them in her lap, extremely careful. 

“How did you know?” she questions. 

“There’s a lot I know about you that you’ve never mentioned,” He gives a mischievous grin, “Like how you cry during movies, and you prefer rock but listen to classical to appease everyone else here, and how you fantasize about o-”  

“NIKOLAI!!” She screams, covering his mouth with her hands and looking around. She screams again when she feels him lick her palm, retreating it. She winces as if hurt, but clearly, she wasn’t. 

“So? Do I need to quiz you like everyone else to get you to admit you’ve fallen in love with little ‘ol me?” He hums, hooking his finger under Ana’s chin and lifting her head to look at him properly. 

“Why are you like this...” Ana whines, looking away. When she looks back, she hesitates before shyly responding, “You know I like you.” 

“Hehe, prove it.” Nikolai smirks, trying to play games now. He suddenly gets close to her face, bending far to match her short stature. He gets teasingly close, but not close enough.  

Nikolai waited with a devious expression for her to grow impatient and finally make the final move. And he learns fast that Ana can be impatient. Because just a moment later she cups his face with both hands and pulls him infinitely closer, slotting her lips into his. 

KINICH

You’d been with Kinich long enough to know that things didn’t come free. Not love, not attention, and certainly not patience. His affection was real. of that you were sure. but it had always come with terms, even if he didn’t say them aloud. Good behavior. Emotional availability. Gratitude.

And right now, curled up in the middle of his sheets, you felt like you'd broken all of those silent rules.

Your stomach throbbed with dull cramps, your limbs were heavy, and your body felt grossly warm despite the air conditioner humming in the corner. But all of that was nothing compared to the mortifying sight of red, stark, unforgiving red. on Kinich’s clean white sheets.

It didn’t even matter that it wasn’t your fault. You still sat there frozen, legs pulled to your chest and your hands balled tightly into the fabric of his blanket, eyes brimming with tears that wouldn’t stop coming.

Because you knew Kinich. Or at least, you thought you did.

He wasn’t cruel. No, never cruel. But he was exacting. Prone to disappointment. Affectionate, yes. but sometimes with an edge. He was the kind of man who gave gifts and then expected your undivided attention. The kind of man who smiled when you were sweet but would withdraw like a tide if you weren’t exactly what he needed.

So what was this, then? What would this cost you?

You didn’t hear him walk in. You only noticed when his shadow fell across the bed, when you flinched and immediately reached for the blanket to hide the stain.

“Hey,” Kinich’s voice was low, unreadable. His golden eyes flicked to the spot you were trying desperately to conceal, then to your visible panicked face. tear-streaked, trembling.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered before he could speak. “I didn’t mean to..It just started. I didn’t think—”

You couldn’t finish. Your throat closed around the panic in your chest, and when you blinked, the tears spilled over. You buried your face in your hands, hating how small you felt, how ashamed. You weren’t just scared of the stain, you were scared of him. Of how he'd look at you now. Of what he’d say. Of whether he’d sigh and step back and wait for you to apologize harder.

But he didn’t.

You felt the dip of the mattress first. Then a pause. A silence so thick it nearly choked you. And then—

“…You’re crying,” Kinich said gently, as if it confused him. “Why are you crying?”

You couldn’t look at him.

“I..I ruined your bed,” you choked out. “I know you hate messes. I know you don’t like, You’ve always been so particular, and I just— I know you’re going to be mad. So just say it, okay? Just say it, and I’ll fix it. I’ll wash it, I’ll stay out of your way, I’ll..”

“Stop.”

His voice wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t cold. It was… soft. Almost disbelieving.

“Stop,” he said again, firmer this time. “You think I’m going to be mad at you for bleeding?”

You sniffled, not knowing how to answer.

Kinich sighed, and then, surprisingly, he reached out, cupping the back of your head and gently drawing you toward his chest.

“I’m not mad,” he murmured. “I’m not anything but sorry that you thought I would be.”

You hesitated tensely at first, but let yourself fall against him, your body folding into his warmth. You cried, silently this time, into the collar of his shirt. Kinich didn’t push or pry. He just ran his hand through your hair, his other arm curled protectively around your shoulders.

After a long moment, he said quietly, “Have I really made you feel like I’d blow up over something like this?”

You didn’t answer. He already knew.

His jaw tightened. “That’s on me,” he whispered. “I’m… still learning, okay? Still trying to unlearn all the bullshit I thought love had to look like.”

You felt his hand pause at your scalp, thumb pressing gently against your skin.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he said. “I don’t want you crying in my bed thinking I’m going to punish you for being human.”

Your tears were slowing now. Your shoulders stopped shaking. You could feel him there, really feel him. solid and real and steady.

“I’ll clean the sheets,” he said softly. “It’s not a big deal. And next time, I’ll make sure there’s a heating pad in here, and extra meds, and maybe some chocolate if you want it. Or soup. Or just silence. Whatever you need.”

You lifted your head slowly, looking up at him through blurry lashes.

“Why are you being so nice?” you whispered, voice cracking.

Kinich smiled, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“Because I love you,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

And maybe it was.

legends say Ajaw is still in timeout~~

SETHOS

You knew Sethos wasn’t the kind of boyfriend who yelled.

He wasn’t passive-aggressive, didn’t slam doors, didn’t throw guilt trips. He didn’t keep score or act like affection was something you had to earn. Your relationship with him was healthy. safe, even. He loved you loud and full, with bright eyes and loud laughter and open arms. He held you like you were sunlight. You knew all this.

But still, when you stared at the growing red blotch on the dark sheets. the very same ones Cyno had gifted him last month, you felt the air disappear from your lungs.

Your stomach twisted. The cramps were nothing compared to the guilt curling in your chest. You’d only meant to nap while waiting for him to finish class. You hadn’t even realized your period had started. But now?

You glanced down at the sheets again.

Blood. Not a little, either. The kind that would stain, the kind that would cling to fabric and refuse to be washed out completely. The kind that ruined things.

Cyno had given him those sheets after a tough semester. a rare gesture from someone as blunt and emotionally reserved as him. Sethos had been so touched. He even joked it was one of the best gifts he'd ever gotten from Cyno, second only to that ridiculously expensive pen set he swore he never used but still proudly displayed.

And now you’d ruined them.

Tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them. Your hands trembled as you reached to pull the blanket over the stain, heart thudding with the kind of panic you thought you’d grown out of. You weren’t scared of Sethos, not really..but you’d seen him get flustered before, defensive even, when people touched the things he held dear.

A book Kaveh lent him got rained on once, and he didn’t speak for half an hour. When Tighnari accidentally spilled soda on his favorite hoodie, he’d spent the next day obsessively rewashing it. He wasn’t angry, just… deeply bothered.

And this? Sheets from Cyno?

You didn't even hear the door open.

“Babe, I’m back! sorry I took so long, Cyno stopped me and-” Sethos’s words froze the second he stepped into the room and saw your face.

You weren’t fast enough to wipe the tears away.

His entire body shifted. You saw it. his carefree posture straightened, his voice dropped, and in an instant, he was kneeling beside the bed, hands hovering like he didn’t want to overwhelm you.

“Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong?” he asked, eyes wide and warm and searching. “Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

“I-I didn’t know it started,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I didn’t even feel it, I was just sleeping and...”

Your voice broke entirely as you moved the blanket aside and showed him what you were so desperately trying to hide.

Sethos blinked. Then tilted his head.

“…That’s it?” he asked.

You frowned. “W-What?”

“I thought you stubbed your toe or something,” he said with a light, airy breath, ruffling his own hair. “Or like, your mom called you and said the cat died. I was ready to go full emergency mode.”

“But the sheets..” you whispered, staring down again. “Cyno gave them to you. They were a gift. I messed them up. I know how much you care about that kind of thing, I know you-”

Sethos placed both his hands on either side of your face, tilting your head up gently until your teary eyes met his smiling ones.

“I was literally going to change the sheets today anyway,” he said. “They were due for a wash.”

“But—”

“Hey,” he cut in softly. “It’s okay. You’re not in trouble.”

The words made you break entirely. The tears that had been threatening to fall came in full now, your shoulders trembling as you finally let yourself feel it. shame, relief, exhaustion, all of it.

Sethos didn’t flinch. He wrapped you in his arms without hesitation, pulling you into his lap like you weighed nothing at all. His cheek rested against your temple, one hand stroking slow circles on your back.

“I hate that you were sitting here crying all alone,” he murmured. “You could’ve called me. I would’ve run home in two seconds.”

“I didn’t want you to be mad,” you sniffled into his shirt. “You liked those sheets.”

“I like you more,” he said immediately. “Sheets don’t have dimples and a cute nose and the kind of laugh that makes my knees weak.”

You let out a shaky laugh, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

“In fact,” he said, drawing back just enough to cup your cheeks again, “now that you mention it, I do feel kinda betrayed.”

Your heart stopped. “What?”

He narrowed his eyes playfully, lips twitching. “Yeah. I’ve been sleeping on those sheets for weeks. Why didn’t I get to be the one who bled on them dramatically?”

“…Sethos—”

“Do you know how cool that would be?” he continued with a mock-serious expression. “I could’ve woken up like, ‘Oh no… it’s happening. I’m ascending.’ You totally robbed me of my vampire main character arc.”

You stared at him in disbelief, and then you snorted. Loud. Ugly. The laugh kind that burst out uninvited.

He grinned, victorious. “There she is.”

You pushed at his chest half-heartedly, but he held you close, the teasing fading into something softer.

“I love you,” he said, voice sincere. “And nothing you do will ever make me love you less. Got it?”

You nodded against him, the last of the tears drying against his shoulder.

“Now,” he added, “get comfy. I’m gonna clean this up, make us tea, and then we’re watching whatever cheesy rom-com you want. No arguments.”

You smiled as he stood up and kissed your forehead, already tugging off the stained sheets without a single complaint.

Sethos was sunshine. Always had been. And today, you were thankful he shone even on the days you felt too messy to deserve the light.

WANDERER

Your relationship with Wanderer wasn’t toxic.

But it wasn’t close to those romance animes like HoriMiya.

You didn’t fight. You didn’t scream or throw cruel words. But there was a distance. a fog that never seemed to lift no matter how close you sat beside him, no matter how many nights you fell asleep with your face buried in the curve of his neck.

Wanderer loved you, probably. But he didn’t say it. He showed it in strange ways. holding your hand when no one was looking, brushing your hair behind your ear only when he thought you were asleep, staring too long when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

So when you sat up from the bed, groggy and warm, only to see the small red stain blooming across the pale cream sheets, your blood gone unnoticed during the night. your heart stopped.

Not because of the stain.

But because Nahida made those sheets.

He never told you that openly. You only heard it once, in passing. when you complimented how soft they were, and he muttered that they were custom, something the Lesser Lord gave him once during a quiet moment.

“Made from Sumeru cotton. Rare,” he’d said. “I didn’t ask her to, but she said I never slept well. So she thought I should try.”

He said it like it didn’t matter.

But his fingers had clenched a little tighter around the corner of the sheet, like it did.

And now they were ruined.

You sat frozen, staring. The blood was still fresh. It wasn’t a lot, but on that delicate, expensive fabric, it looked… violent.

Your first instinct was to scrub it out. The second was to cry. The third; terrible, frantic, was to lie. Pretend it was yours, something you spilled from a wound. Pretend you hadn’t touched them at all.

But before you could do any of that, the bathroom door creaked open.

He walked out slowly, towel around his neck, hair damp and tousled. And the moment his gaze flicked to you, then to the bed. he stopped.

Silence.

No expression on his face. Just stillness. Still enough to make your ears ring.

“I..” your voice cracked. “I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to. It must’ve started while I was asleep, I didn’t feel it, I—”

You bit your tongue before it spiraled further. You hated how easily your voice trembled around him.

He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, eyes trained on the sheets. You watched his jaw clench for half a second. Then, a sigh. Tired. Heavy.

“...Why are you panicking?” he finally said, tone unreadable.

You looked at him, startled. “Because they mattered to you.”

“And?” he asked, voice a little sharper now. “You think I’m going to throw a tantrum over a stain?”

You flinched. “No, I just… I know how much you keep to yourself. I didn’t want to touch something that wasn’t mine.”

Something flickered in his expression. Barely there. Then gone.

“They were mine,” he said quietly. “But you’re in my bed, aren’t you?”

You blinked.

“That means they’re yours, too.”

Your throat tightened. “But they were from Nahida. I know how close you are to her. I know you don’t sleep well without them.”

He walked closer.

“I didn’t sleep well, until you started being here,” he said, almost bitterly. “Those sheets helped a little. You helped more.”

You stared at him, heart thudding. He avoided your gaze.

“Stop assuming I’m going to yell every time you mess something up,” he muttered. “I’m not… him. I’m not that version of me anymore.”

Your breath caught. He never talked about who he used to be.

But today, he did.

You sat in silence as he stepped past you and began pulling the sheets off the bed, moving with quiet efficiency. There was a tightness in his jaw, but no anger. He didn’t throw them. Didn’t scoff. Just peeled them off and folded them in his arms like it was just another chore.

“I’ll ask her if she can make another set,” he said, offhandedly. “She’ll probably tease me. She’s been waiting for something like this.”

Your lip trembled. “I really am sorry.”

“I know.”

“I would’ve told you sooner, but—”

“I know.”

You hesitated. “You’re not mad?”

Wanderer sighed again, and this time, it sounded less tired. He turned toward you slowly, stepping closer until your knees brushed.

Then, in the softest voice he could manage:

“I’ve done worse. You could spill ink, set something on fire, bleed through every expensive thing I own. I’d still pick you over any of it.”

You looked up at him, startled.

He avoided your eyes again.

“And anyway,” he added, deadpan, “you already ruined my peace. Might as well ruin my sheets too.”

You laughed. quiet, watery.

He finally met your gaze. And this time, you saw it. Not pity. Not irritation. Just a soft, tired kind of affection that looked almost like-

Forgiveness.

And maybe something deeper.

He reached out, tucking your hair behind your ear, then mumbled:

“Next time, just wake me up. I’ll help you wash them.”

in conclusion: so yes, your relationship might not be like Horimiya or any romance animes out there. but..that doesn't mean your love for eachother isn't real.

KAZUHA

Your relationship with Kazuha was perfect.

Not in the unrealistic, fairytale sense. But in the kind that felt safe. Gentle. His voice never raised, his touch never harsh. Arguments. rare as they were, always ended with soft apologies and warm arms around you, wrapped in mutual understanding.

He loved you with patience. With poetry. With the kind of love that felt like early morning light slipping through curtains.

So why were you spiraling?

You stared at the red blot on the pale sheets. Just a small mark, really. The kind that would probably wash off if treated quickly.

But your brain wasn’t thinking in terms of laundry detergent.

It was spiraling. fast, irrational.

What if he minds?

What if he doesn’t say anything but feels differently?

What if he never sees the bed the same way again?

What if this changes something?

What if it makes me… ugly to him?

You gripped your hands tightly in your lap, already too emotional, already fighting back tears. You didn’t want to ruin anything. Not with Kazuha. Especially not with Kazuha.

You were so lost in your head that you didn’t notice when the door opened.

He stepped into the room quietly, holding a cup of warm tea in his hands. one of those sleepy blends he always offered you when you were in pain.

But the moment he noticed your hunched posture, the flushed embarrassment on your cheeks, and your trembling fingers… he paused.

“Beloved?” he asked softly. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t respond at first. Couldn’t. You just stared at the sheets, then at your lap.

“…I stained them,” you finally whispered. “The sheets. I didn’t mean to. It happened while I was sleeping.”

Kazuha blinked once, and followed your gaze to the small mark on the bed.

Then, quietly, calmly. he walked forward, set the mug down, and sat beside you. Not too close. Not too far. Just enough that his presence could be felt, grounding you.

“Is that what’s troubling you?” he asked gently.

You didn’t answer. You were waiting for something. Disappointment. A sigh. Even just a look.

But none came.

Instead, he let a few seconds pass, then said softly, “The fabric is only fabric, my love. Easily washed. Easily replaced.”

Your throat tightened. “I know. I just… I got scared. I didn’t want you to be disgusted. Or uncomfortable. Or… not see me the same.”

Kazuha’s gaze turned toward you, soft and steady.

“You stained a piece of cloth,” he said. “Not our bond.”

You turned to him slowly, eyes wide.

He smiled. “You are not something to be ashamed of. Nor is this. It’s human. And I fell in love with you fully aware of what me and you are getting ourselves into.”

He reached for your hand, thumb brushing along your knuckles.

“Besides,” he added, almost teasing, “do you think I’d value cotton over the person who brings warmth to every night I lie here?”

You let out a small, wet laugh.

He smiled wider, then pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “Come. We’ll change the sheets together. And after that, we can lie back down. I’d rather hold you than worry about anything else.”

You leaned into him, tears quietly slipping down your cheeks. not from shame anymore, but relief.

Because Kazuha never needed perfection. Just honesty.

And right now, you knew there was no one gentler to bleed around than him.

LYNEY

Lyney was the sweetest man you knew.

He made you laugh when you felt like crying, brought little surprises from every market trip, kissed your cheeks like you were the only magic he’d ever believe in. and he let you be. Just be. Loud or quiet, soft or guarded, he saw through it all and made you feel safe.

Even Lynette, usually expressionless and unreadable, had smiled more often ever since you entered their lives. Sometimes, she’d even nudge Lyney gently after a show, eyes glittering with quiet fondness, and murmur, “You’re lucky.”

You believed it too. Things were good. Really good.

You even caught yourself thinking, maybe it can last forever.

Until today.

Until you woke up and felt that ugly, sticky, painful sensation in your lower abdomen. The ache was sharp, like a low thrum behind your bellybutton, and it made you curl inwards on the bed.

You blinked groggily, disoriented for a moment, only to sit up and see it.

A bright, unmistakable stain across the middle of Lyney’s crisp, white sheets.

Your stomach dropped.

Panic came first. Then guilt. Then shame, because how could something so natural still make you feel so filthy?

You remembered Lyney telling you once that these sheets were from Fontaine’s famous fabric vendor. a gift from Freminet, who rarely ever gifted anything. They were soft, expensive, and something Lyney clearly treasured.

Now ruined. By you.

He had just gone out to check on his props for a show, saying he’d be back in half an hour.

You had thought about quickly changing the sheets, maybe even sneaking them into the wash before he noticed. but your cramps were making movement hard, and every second that passed only made your eyes sting more.

So when the doorknob turned, and Lyney walked in humming, your panic reached its peak.

You clutched the sheet tightly in your hands, your back hunched, tears already pooling in your lashes.

He paused the moment he stepped inside, instantly sensing the shift in the air. He saw the way you didn’t meet his eyes, the way your hands trembled, the raw redness in your face.

“…Chérie?” His voice was softer now. Concerned.

You still couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even look at him. You just whispered, brokenly, “I’m sorry…”

But instead of asking why, instead of being confused or demanding answers, Lyney crossed the room in three steps and gently took the sheets from your grip.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t scowl. He didn’t say a single word of disappointment.

In fact, he smiled.

“Mon chéri,” he said, brushing a few tears from your cheek with his thumb. “I have a twin sister. Do you think a little stain like this bothers me? When I’ve already dealt with Lynette in the past?”

Your lips trembled. “…But these were Freminet’s gift—”

“And Freminet will survive,” Lyney interrupted softly, voice full of light. “You didn’t destroy a castle, amour. You had an accident. A human one.”

You finally looked at him then, really looked. and what you saw was nothing but tenderness.

“You’re in pain, aren’t you?” he asked, glancing briefly at the way you held your abdomen.

You gave a small nod, lip wobbling.

“Then let’s focus on that first.” He stood up, folded the stained sheets as if they were no big deal, and set them gently aside. “I’ll run you a warm bath, find your favorite lounge set, and we’ll cuddle on the couch. We can burn a candle, drink tea, or just listen to soft music. Whatever you want.”

You were crying again, but for a very different reason now.

Lyney cupped your cheeks, leaned in, and kissed your forehead. “This doesn’t change how I see you. If anything, I’m glad you trust me enough to feel safe here.”

You hiccupped a laugh. “I was panicking.”

He grinned. “I figured. That’s why I brought your favorite cookies.”

You blinked. “You…?”

“I always bring them after prop checks,” he teased, reaching into his pocket and revealing a small pack with a bow. “Magic may be something I love, but making you smile is my favorite trick.”

And just like that, you did.

Because Lyney didn’t just love the best parts of you.