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Even in Lawless Lands We Still Have Faith: Prologue

I have been wanting to make my own rendition of the 'Blind Faith Au' i had posted a small thought about it in an earlier post i made and wanted to give it a shot! :D

this is inspired by 'Who needs trust when you have faith' by ItsBasilnotBasil on ao3 it's amazing you should go check it out if you've never read it before :)

“NO! You don’t understand!”

Ford frantically grabbed onto the journal, trying to snatch back his journal from the hold that Stan had on it as he clearly was too immature to have his life’s work in his possession. Especially since he seems to be so hung up by Stanford’s simple request.

“You said you wanted me to have it, so I'll do what I want with it!”

Stan wrenches the book away from Ford as he says this. He doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get any of this (not that he’d tell Ford that), Ford calls him up here to buttfuck nowhere, which he used the last of his money to even get up here to begin with. Just to tell him to go fuck off with his dumb fucking book and never come back. Well fuck that if Ford is going to give him this book he’s going burn it, if he’s so hell bent on no one else getting this book. 

“MY RESEARCH!”

Ford launches himself at his brother, throwing Stan and himself to the ground close to the switch, the journal flying across the room. Stan lies prone for a sec feeling his stitches on his side pull uncomfortably, before hastily getting up when he watches Ford scramble to get the journal. Stan shoves his brother into the ground as he runs past and snatches the journal off the ground. It was then he turned to say something, maybe say something witty or snarky or maybe to tell Ford that ‘fine he would leave’; Stan unfortunately wouldn’t know because as soon as he does turns he gets body slammed into the door behind him and onto a very sharp desk-consol-thing. On top of him was Ford’s anger consuming his face as he tried to wrench the book away from Stan.

“Want it back you’re going to have to try harder than that!”

Stan shoves all his body weight into his brother landing them both onto the floor. An electrifying whirl begins; crackling and sparking, the machine rising in pitch and frequency as the two brothers shove each other around the room not noticing the noise at all. 

Stan and Ford are now back at the entrance of the control room both tugging at the journal. From an outsider's perspective one could almost mistake the two for dogs fighting over leftover scraps; bearing their teeth and barking hoping with some vindication that their words would hurt the other.

“YOU LEFT ME BEHIND YOU JERK, IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE US FOREVER YOU RUINED MY LIFE!”

“YOU RUINED YOUR OWN LIFE!”

THUMP

CKSSSSSHH

“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

“STANLEY!”

Ford watches as his brother slumps over, much like when a puppet's strings are cut. The fresh smell of burning flesh permeates through the air encircling around Stanford; reminiscent of a boa constrictor suffocating him. Ford stares at the now bright almost luminescent brand, no burn that he put on Stanley as Ford stumbles to get up he frantically utters an, “Oh my gosh imsosorryareyouo- OW”

He was then interrupted by a hard punch to the face causing Stanford to flail backwards onto the lever in front of the portal. The sounds of its whirling, crackling and high pitched humming expand and crescendo filling the basement with its music. The sound once again, going unnoticed by the two. 

Stanford slowly gets up from where he fell; eyes never leaving Stan's lurking form as he stalks closer to Ford hand gripping onto his shoulder. Looking eerily close to that of a predator cornering its prey.

“Some brother you turned out to be…”

He steps closer

“You care more about your dumb mysteries than your family…”

There’s a pause. They stare at each other and for that one moment, it seemed that Stan was trying to search for something in his brother's eyes. What he was searching for, Stan wasn’t too sure, sadness? A look that told Stan, Ford didn’t hate him? Again he didn’t know, but whatever he was trying to find in those all too sharp eyes was not there, only a burning hatred and anger was found. So in his own unfiltered anger Stan moved…

“WELL THEN YOU CAN HAVE THEM”

And made the biggest mistake in his life.

Stanley pushes his brother…

It feels as though time was both moving all too fast but also excruciatingly slow, like time itself was playing an awful game of tug-of-war as Stan watches his twin float up and into the portal. He’s saying something but he can’t hear it nor whatever Ford was yelling, over his own head buzzing so loud.

I need to move, i need to save him, i don’t know how but I need to move NOW

But his body seemed to be against him as it just. Won’t. MOVE. It was as if something was blocking him from making that leap, that jump to help his brother get away from that damn portal.

I can’t just stand here,

I need to move,

I NEED TO SAVE HIM

As Stan forced his foot to step forward, it was then whatever was keeping him there dissipated. Like a barrier was broken. Not that he was all too concerned on what that meant as his first and only priority was getting Ford away and safe from the portal currently trying to suck him in. 

Determination rushed into every fibre of his being as he ran past the caution line and jumped, gravity sliping immediately allowing Stan to float towards his brother. Luck seemed to finally be on his side as fords body hadn't gone through the swirling vortex of light yet; though he was getting dangerously close, he wasn’t too late. Stan was moving quite fast thanks to the jump he made earlier and he was able to grab onto his brother’s outstretched hand gripping for dear life. 

Unfortunately that’s when Stan’s luck dies off, because although Stan was able to grab onto his brother’s hand, he was a little late to try to wrench his twin out and onto the ground away from the portal. Ford’s body had started to be consumed by the portal. Not that Stan seemed to notice nor did he care as he holds tight onto Stanfords hand and uses his lower body to propel against the portal frame so that he can reef Ford out of the portal.

Come on come on come on please work pleasepleaseplease

Ford’s yelling something, he should really be paying attention but he can’t seem to focus. Stan’s pretty sure he says something back; maybe to yell at him back, to tell him to fuck off and let him help him, or maybe to say that he was sorry? It didn’t matter though, none of it did, all that mattered was fixing his mistake and getting his brother safe.

The buzzing in his head is getting louder.

Come on body work for me here, I need this to work please just let me fix it, 

Let me fix my mistake PLEASE

But it was no use, the gravitational pull was too much, at this point ¾ of Ford’s body has been consumed by the portal and was progressively more pulled in as Stan tries desperately to pullpullpullwhyisntthisworkingpleaseicantloosehimagagainbecauseofmymistakes–

But it was no use as more and more of Ford's body was slowly getting consumed by the swirling vortex that made up the inside of the portal. There was a look that will haunt Stan in his sleep as he watches the last bit of Stanford's face was swallowed into the jaws of the machine.

Before he could even attempt to mourn, Stan, whose hand had been holding onto Ford’s hand orwhatwasleft was fastly getting consumed as well by the portal. 

In the matter of seconds to the world but hours to Stan, he too was consumed by the portal.

Mere milliseconds after the last of stan is in the portal, a bright blinding burst of energy dispersed outwards evaporating the portal. Leaving the basement with an empty space where the structure should have been. As if it never existed in the first place.

The only trace that anything happened down there was a blindingly white crack on the ground in the center of it all.

Slowly growing in size as it consumes

And consumes

The Days After Tomorrow

Finished February 27, 2023

2034 was when the war between androids and humans began. The war lasting decades killing both humans and androids alike, nearly wiping out the entire population of earth as a whole, leaving everything to chaos. Those who were smart enough left for safe grounds, making places like ‘Peace Bunkers’ to find some sort of order in all the chaos. Or, they leave to survive by themselves. However those who did not leave, fought valiantly or foolishly we may never know. 

The war was destructive, leading buildings to collapse, towns to crumple, and even leaving whole sections of cities to level out. There was no chance of new growth in those areas with how damaged those places were at the time leading people to assume the worst of it all. 

2058….

The years after the war were just as, if not more painful and dangerous than before, some wishing to be back to the years of the war because “at least they had rations and had plenty of food to go around…”  The famine, the thing that killed most of the remaining first generation ‘survivors’, the second and third generations after, learning to make do with the things they had. Relearning to farm, cook, and much more. 

A huge step from using androids. 

Hope had run out long after everything started, and no one dared to go anywhere close to towns and more specifically cities, out of fear of androids or larger groups of humans to be there. Those fears however were one of many myths or folklore that were taken seriously by those communities, so very few people stay in places with a high density of buildings. Leaving those areas to flourish, areas growing trees inside toppled apartment buildings nearly reaching to apartment height. Flowers growing in between the cracks in the concrete along with weeds. 

In one area of this specific city however is a place that has strangely been open the entire time this had all been going on, and that place is ‘Terry’s café’. Terry’s café is small compared to the other buildings in the area and beside, with two levels and the outside looking as if the person who had owned it first was originally a flower shop but was later turned into a café. The inside however had more of a late 80’s look to it with checkered flooring and parts of cars in different corners of the room. The androids that are there working, were cleaning or talking to imaginary customers and making them food. With the way they act it’s almost as if time has looped forever in this place. Acting as if the war and the famine never existed.

 On this particular day someone enters the café, and not just anyone, a human…. 

A human boy. 

This boy in particular has a name, his name is Aurthur Wymblur Jaycobs. A boy one would describe as both rowdy, obnoxious, an overall bright young boy and…. a cold killer, depending on how you meet him. With his bright orange hair seemingly unable to stay in one place the owner of said hair forgoing trying to brush it. With his round childlike features and his bright green eyes, one would think that he would be seen easily by other survivors and killed on site, however he’s quite clever when making traps and shooting unsuspecting victims. There are myths saying that he owns the cities, some even saying he was born in one of the toppled buildings. Most don’t believe he’s real, saying that he’s just one of a bunch of ghost stories to tell children at night to warrant them from going into the cities. Either way you put it though Aurthur… is not a kid to be reckoned with. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur was racing around the block in section B-1C, a section he has been in and around to know the way in his sleep. He would usually do this twice a week in different sections, practising his parkour. On this particular day he was making his laps when he had noticed a new side street he'd never seen before. Being the curious little shit he was, he went to check it out. It just so happened to be the place the café was in, squished between two toppled buildings. It looked interesting since it looked to be the only thing open and in operation at least… from the outside. As he ran closer to said café he noticed that indeed it was open and androids were freely running around in there… interesting. Disregarding how many red flags there were just by this thing being opened in the first place he invited himself in…. 

And this… is where our story begins…

As Arthur entered the café the doorbell above the door chimed with timed rhythm letting every android in the building that a new person had entered the café. Arthur flabbergasted that the bell is still working given that everything outside of this store is broken, feeling like a deer caught in headlights stared owlishly. 

No one said a thing in those few minutes, unsure whether it was a good idea to speak or not. The android manning the counter was the first to speak, asking in what seemed like a motherly tone “Hello young one, how can we help you on this perfect spring evening?” Arthur, unsure how to go about answering the question, stays silent. 

The Counter android -Arthur’s now dubbed- realizing it won’t get an answer out of him anytime soon shouts to whoever is in the kitchen “Order up for one stack of waffles and a small coffee!” there was a muffled reply from in the kitchen, their answer seemed to have made the Counter Android upset with it replying back “Well he might as well have something while he’s here, he looks so thin a gust of wind could blow him over! So get him the things I asked for before I make you” before turning to Arthur to say quietly “No offence hunny, but you look like you haven’t eaten anything since you’ve been born.” Arthur, feeling the need to defend his honour, argued back saying “Hey! I’m not skinny, I’m pretty average for kids my age!” The counter android had an almost look of surprise before collecting itself and replying with a glint in its ‘eyes’ “Ooooh really~, when was the last time you ate then?”

….. Now that was a question. 

The last he had remembered was a week ago, when he was looking through C-5E looking for if there were any lone survivors wandering around, when he had started to become hungry. It was the third time that week alone and it was becoming increasingly annoying. Sometimes Arthur wished he didn’t have a stomach, either way he needed food and he needed food right now. Arthur looked around to see where the closest deserted store was, which happened to be right beside him at the time, whoo hoo! That time he happened to get two cans of beans, so he heated them up with a makeshift fire He made all by himself. 

“About a week ago why does that matter though, I’m the most well off by the world's standards, other kids my age barely get that! So BOOM! SUCK ON THAT!” 

The once happy chattering of the café turns dead silent. All androids that were previously minding their business, now facing the only kid in the room in horror of what they had just heard. 

Well off? This malnourished child is more well off than most kids?

Arthurs words shock the entire café. Them all realizing the gravity of the situation and how bad it really was out there. For years they were to never leave the building in fear of what their owner might do to them. But…. 

they don’t have to worry any more, their owner has been dead for probably as long as they’ve been working for. 

They realize what their new objective is: ‘keep. this. boy. safe.’

“Hey! You guys good? Your fucking scaring me, which I don’t say often out loud, but I will hurt you if you fucks go crazy on me!” Arthur nearly yells, quick to brase his gun just in case. Arthurs’ almost worried threat seemed to have knocked them out of their stupor, with Counter android responding “Yes, we’re fine, RIGHT GUYS!” A collective ‘yeah’ was said amongst the androids as they went back to what they were originally doing. 

“Anyhow, how ‘bout you go and sit down in one of the seats over here.” It said, pointing to the bar seats in front of the counter. Shrugging, Arthur takes his hand off his holster as he walks over to the seat closest to the cash register, looking forward into the window of the kitchen. Where, more androids are busy working on food in the back. 

The seats themselves sigh in relief from not being sat on in a long time when he adjusts himself in his seat. The Counter Android -He really needs to figure out its name cause it’s getting reeal annoying calling them that- seemed pleased with this new development going as to say “So! What's your name kid? I gotta know the name to the face." 

"Arthur Wymblur Jacobs, I came up with the name myself!" He proudly exclaimed. 

“Oh did you really? Can you tell me where you got the idea?” The Counter Android questioned, seemingly excited to hear more, and for the next few hours the two of them chatted more while Arthur was enjoying his waffles and surprisingly delicious coffee. The two, taking turns asking meaningless questions. Eventually though Arthur had to leave, however this was not in vain as Arthur had promised to come back the next day excited to hangout more with the androids.

From then onwards it became their routine for Arthur to come into the café, have food and chat with the androids and would have to leave again a few hours later. Arthur soon found out the names of the androids, and more specifically the Counter Androids name which her name is Maria. Arthur had gotten to know her a lot more than the others going as to say now even friends, but you didn’t hear it from me. Lately he’s been somewhat of a regular. Well as far as regulars go in the apocalypse at least, it’s like when you give a stray animal food they always come back for more. Arthur hoped that maybe….maybe this time he’ll be able to have a somewhat normal life finally.

But things never stay like that forever…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a ‘normal’ tuesday evening….well as far as normal goes at least now with a new schedule; get up at noonish – according the position of the sun – parkour around from B-1C to Z-0A looking for new survivors foolishly wandering around His city and kill them, then afterwards head to the café. THAT'S IT! That's all that was supposed to happen on a NORMAL day. Except today while looking through section C-5D for survivors he finds a large group of androids, about ten to fifteen that seemed to be patrolling the area looking for… something Arthur couldn’t tell from where he was at the time.

The androids themselves looked as though they were made for either military or the police force of some kind Arthur didn’t care he just wanted these assholes off his turf. Their faces were that of white plastic not as shiny with wear and tear from over the years. The features were that of symmetrical perfection, uncanny valley to that of the norm. The androids all wore the same outfit; an indistinguishable uniform shirt with ruffed up dress pants and dress shoes that look like they’re on their last life. These types of androids are a hivemind. They only follow one ruler and they are told set instructions not all the same though, and most of all are not at all fond of humans. They believe that all humans should be extinct. Which is not great for Arthur at the moment.  

From where Arthur was positioned behind a large piece of concrete, he shouldn’t be found unless one of the androids turns in his general area. So in theory if he just keeps to the side closest to the apartment complexes he should be able to leave scott free. 

…But it’s never that easy…

Just as he was moving  closer to the buildings mentioned before he slipped on a pile of crumbled apartment wall, which caused his gun to fall off his holster hitting other pieces of rock along the way. Which then in turn made one of the androids turn over in his direction. 

No one moved or made a sound for a total of five seconds…. 

Before Arthur fumbled more trying to correct himself before finally running out into one of the alleyways. The androids, realizing that it was indeed a human over where Arthur was originally, go to chase after him. Going through houses and buildings to hopping fences and even secret passageways Arthur thought he only knew, the androids still were on Arthurs tail the entire time. Shooting Arthur to get him to slow down, it worked somewhat with nicking Arthur a few times in the legs and shoulders. But with so much adrenaline pumping in Arthur it didn’t keep him down for long. After what felt like hours they finally reached B-1C and from there he went into the side street to the café, as he finally got some distance on the androids. The only thought that Arthur could conjure up as he turned another corner and saw the lights of the café, was ‘sorry Maria looks like I’m bringing company this time.’ 

Arthur bursted into the happy café, frantically trying to find Maria who just so happened to be at the counter as always looking more concerned by the second. Running over to her he exclaims “Maria, please, you gatta help me they’resthseseguysandithinkthinktheywannakillme!”

“Woe woe woe! Calm down what are yo-” just then the sounds of multiple footsteps could be heard with rapid succession coming towards the café. Right then Maria had to make a decision and fast, “Ok, Arthur you get behind the counter!” Maria explains to Arthur as he does so, she didn’t have to tell the others what to do as they were already pretending as if there was nothing wrong when she turned to them. 

The counter that Arthur was in was…. Not that interesting all in all. It has a hidden compartment, usually used to store extra bottles of alcohol, now used to store a panicking Arthur at the moment.  A loud bang is what sets Arthur further on edge because that can mean only one thing. 

There here…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just up above the counter, in the doorway bursts in the androids from before. They start looking in places around the café with intent, not caring if they're shoving other androids out of the way. “OKAY, THAT’S ENOUGH!” Maria shouted over all the ruckus, getting sick of the blatant disrespect. Surprisingly, she was able to get them to stop, them all standing straight up and forward staring at her. “What I want to know is why you’re making a mess of my store.” Maria was starting to get angry fast if no one here explains themselves. Their captain –from the fact that one else dared to speak– is the one to speak “We are A1-T3CH from Astech Corporation. We were sent to this city with the instruction to bring back a life form that seems to inhabit here regularly. We encountered it once and are searching for it for it has run off. Do you have any knowledge of its whereabouts?” It spoke with indifference as if it was reciting from a stripted. 

These guys are here to hurt him, they're here to hurt Arthur, they're here to hurt your son! Maria could hear over the silence almost unable to think with how loud the system was being but she pushed through. 

“See? Now isn’t that easier than wrecking my shit?” Maria closes her eyes and takes an unneeded breath before she speaks “Anyways I can’t help you with that one since we’ve never seen this ‘life from’ come into our café, Hell! We’ve never left this building for that matter, so if you could be so kind, please leave.” Maria then opens her eyes, and if looks could kill, they all would be a pile of dust sitting at the bottom of a six feet deep hole, “Before I am force to take you out myself” The cameras in the android's eyes shifted, seemingly surprised that one of its kind is being aggressive with its words. 

“Are you threatening our team?” the android said, cocking its head slightly like would a confused dog. Eyes watching Maria like a hawk looking at its next meal. 

“So what if I am?” they’re both inches away from each other, if they were human they would be able to feel their breath on each other. Maria just wanted them away from her boy. 

“Then by proxy I would have to kill you too” and with that it took out a gun and started to fire it, as well Maria ducked under the counter to grab her guns from her holster, “let’s get this over with”. 

From inside the hidden compartment Arthur finally, having calmed down some, could hear loud muffling from up above. When sudden banging and popping started out of nowhere, making Arthur slightly annoyed that he couldn’t see what was going on, because if he did he would be dead. Arthur shifted in his spot, as he did this a shot of white hot pain came from his right shoulder and his left calf, Arthur realised that in his panicked state he forgot about his injuries. After coming to this reaization his injuries were starting to become unbearable, ‘Oh I really hope Maria finishes up what she's doing because I have nothing to wrap these wounds up.’ 

Luckily for Arthur he didn’t have to wait long for as soon as the banging started it soon ended and he was let out. When Maria opened the door, Arthur could see the damage the other androids did. She had a slash with blue ooze trailing down her face and wires sticking out of her arms. “Well it t’k you long ‘nough ‘m in SO much pain I think ‘m going to faint fr’m just the pain” Arthur slurs his words before promptly passing out. Maria, now super concerned with the amount of blood on Arthur and that he just passed out, picks Arthur up carefully and briskly walks upstairs to the second floor of the café and into a small room on the right of the stairs.

 The small room had a slanted roof with baby blue walls, with the room itself looking as if it was originally a baby room but instead of a crib in the corner it’s a twin sized bed, with the dusty covers still on there from years before. The room was otherwise vacant compared to the rest of the café. Maria places Arthur’s sleeping body on the bed and gets to work on fixing his wounds the best she can….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Arthur finally wakes up the first few things he notes is that one, there are hands on his head slowly carding through his head, two, there is a light coming from somewhere and it’s getting annoying, but whining seemed to get it to leave, and three, whatever he’s on right now is SO comfy at the moment. He could hear quiet laughter above and to the right of him as he shifts more, only to have pain give Arthur a reminder of what happened in the last…. What time is it? 

As Arthur shifts, he opens his eyes and blinks before looking up to see who exactly is touching his hair. When he looks up he can see Maria staring at him, like a mother looking at their baby. She no longer had blue running down her face, now a scar to replace it. It looks like she fixed herself up if the halfass patching is anything to go by. 

“Hey mornin’ sleepy, hope you had an at least somewhat decent sleep.” Maria spoke softly to Arthur as she continued to card her hands through his hair. Arthur closed his eyes and leaned into the warmth he assumed was part of the technology in her, he just grunted in response “five more minutes please?” She humed back in return as she removed her hand “okay, just don’t move to much you are still recovering, I’ll just be down stairs then.” She got up from her chair beside the bed and started to walk out, She was about half way to the door when she heard a mumble from the bed. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get that, can you repeat yourself?” Maria asked as she made her way back to the bedside. When she got to the bedside Arthur’s hand lazily shot out to grab her and asked quietly “Can you stay…mom?” Arthur’s face warmed so much a rose would be jealous. Arthur, clearly embarrassed hides his face to only show his bright green eyes. Maria, unable to resist the cuteness, sits back in her seat and removes Arthur's hand so that she can go back to carding her hand through his head. 

And they sit like that for the first part of the morning, and later Maria will make sure Arthur’s wounds are healing nicely. Then they would go downstairs to eat and chat, later Arthur would ask to stay in the café and they would stay like that for the years to come like a little weird makeshift family. 

However for now they stay like this with Maria carding her hand through Arthur’s now sleeping body. 

And isn’t that enough?

Evelyn Burns Petals

Hello again i figured i would post some of my old stuff since i didn't have the confidence before so i hope you enjoy :D

Finished February 9, 2023

“BURN THE WITCH! BURN THE WITCH!”

Chanting, chanting is all you can hear when you enter the town. It’s fairly common nowadays to hear such words be uttered by so many people. It’s a shame, to hear it another time, however it's not your business, you’d rather stay away and not accidentally get yourself caught again. That time, it almost took you a whole two days for the magic to even get the wound to scab. Either way, the point is that Evelyn is missing.You have a feeling she’s here because two days earlier she had mentioned finding a place that sold mint leaves since you and her had run out. 

The earlier chanting grows louder as you make your way to the centre of town after looking everywhere for Evelyn. Hundreds, if not thousands of women, men and children alike all gather around a podium in the centre of town. The podium had what looked to be a wooden beam with the silhouette of a person you can’t seem to make out, all tied up as a person on the right seemed to be making a speech. However you were unable to hear what exactly they were preaching about for the chanting had elevated to a nearly deafening sound.

“BURN THE WITCH! BURN THE WITCH! BURN THE WITCH!!!”

You, by some miracle, get past the other townspeople just enough to just make out the person, but by that time you were already too late as the fire had already started burning.

“EVELYN!!!!”

You’re running now, your hood has fallen' off as you’re trying desperately to get past the townspeople most not moving as they and you watch the fire creep closer to Evelyn.

“GET OUT OF MY WAY!!” “EVELYN!!!”

You finally manage to get past the people in front of you, them recognizing you seemed to have made them move, clearing a path for you to get to the podium. The chanting grows ever louder as you make your way up the stairs, pushing past the mayor and getting to Evelyn. You’re suddenly being pulled back further away from her as she’sburningshe’sburning SHE’S BURNING!! You don’t even care any more as you are struggling to get out of whoever is keeping you awayawayAWAY SHE NEEDS ME!! 

BANG!

Everything goes silent, so silent even that you're not sure if the silence is only for you or if the world had gone quiet for that single moment.  You’re let go, somehow, but you don’t care as you run as her smoldering body falls, you catch her; she’s still hot to the touch but you can’t seem to feel a thing as she lays there, in your arms. She almost looks peaceful if not for her being so chard you almost can’t recognize her. Someone is speaking to you but all you can care to even think about is her body, she’sdeadshe’sdead SHE’S DEAD! 

“Hey! It’s alright it’s dead, the wicked witch is dead! She can’t hurt you anymore like she did to us!”

You stop in your tracks for a moment, 

she can’t hurt me anymore like she did to them?

Evelyn? the girl who took you in when you were on your last legs. Evelyn, the woman who would make flower crowns out of burning blossoms for you and her on summer days. Evelyn, who wouldn’t even hurt a fly when it was in the house being a nuisance, and instead held it with a wood carved cup and paper underneath to let back outside? EVELYN who would give the worst criminals a chance. THAT EVELYN!?!

The thought of her, losing her, especially in this way, makes you thirst for something more. 

Something deadly 

For them to not only disrespect her as a person and not view her as a person is despicable in its own right. But to take her out of this world!! You feel something equally worse than rage, something that screamed murder, that screamed blood, and to hurt hurt HURT!

Next thing that happens the person behind you starts screaming and coughing up blood. So much blood the pool reaches to your kneeling body. The mayors - you figure from the screams- “bodyguards” become worried, one of them asking behind you,

“What did you do, WHAT DID YOU FUCKING DO!!”

“oh?”

You ask while lowering the body (Evelyn's body, she’s dead SHE’S DEAD), turning around to face the “guards”, cocking your head, face already morphed into an almost doll-like smile nearly able to hide your burning rage. 

“What did I do?” 

“Well you see, what I did there is what you will all experience when I'm done with you”

The crowd begins to whisper words and share worried glances at each other waiting anxiously for someone, anyone to be brave enough to ask the question they’re all thinking.

“What is it?”

The only other “guard” who isn’t coddling the mayor is the only person to ask the question. Silence stretches for what felt like hours but was more likely minutes just waiting for you to answer their question. Fearful of what you might say. You wait to answer even debating on whether or not to even answer their question. You make your decision after what was really minutes. 

You turn to the guard, and you answer.

“Death”

The crowd gasps clearly distraught by the answer, however most too scared to speak some foolish ones screamed profanities however those to soon die down to nothing. The guards stand guard around their ruler in fear of what else you might possibly do to their mayor. It was almost cute if not for the anger you still feel. You turn to the crowd still not finished with your speech.  

“AND YOU ALL HAVE 24 HOURS TO EVACUATE THIS PLACE BEFORE I BURN THIS PLACE JUST AS YOU HAD DONE TO MY BELOVED, MY WORLD!!” You nearly scream this out loud, your voice cracking ever so slightly. You feel your voice might rip open and stop making sound.

“AND EVEN WHEN YOU ALL THINK YOU SAFE I WILL COME FOR EACH ONE OF YOU AND KILL YOU AND YOUR LOVED ONES!” you feel anger swelling up inside you, you almost can't breathe. You try taking a mental breath but the images of her still burn brightly in your mind you give up.

“TAKE THIS AS A LESSON TO NEVER AND I MEAN NEVER TRIFLE WITH THE MOTHER OF STARS! SERVANT OF DEATH AGAIN!!” you feel as though your body is shaking immensely as you pour your soul out helplessly hoping someone will listen. 

But no one ever listens

You turn back to the mayor, no longer the doll-like face before now a void with hundreds of thousands eyes nearly covering your face staring. back. at. him.

“This is not the end, but the beginning of your end.”

And as if she was never there the ‘witch’ vanishes leaving the town with dread for the inevitable. 

Most don't leave that day, most not believing what she said. And with their decision they never leave again, the town seemingly still burning to this day. However those who did leave and did listen, those people lived in constant fear that one day she may come back and take their lives once more…..

And for Evelyn's body, may she rest under the burning blossom tree. Forever to burn elegantly.

Here's some sketches from my latest fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64049332?view_adult=true

Also, the cross-dressing Stan design belongs to @scurvyboy with that build a bear sketch, it was just so perfect, no notes, I can't beat perfection

Little life update (that no one asked for)

Hello everyone!! Thank you so much for your support even through my absence, you have no idea how much it did to me.

I'm doing much better now!! After I was diagnosed with ADHD, my psychologist suggested to investigate a bit further with a psychiatrist and it turns out I'm on the spectrum as well lmao. Well, it didn't really come as a surprise to me, but it definitely did help at understanding who I am and how I work a lot more.

I've started both therapy and taking meds, plus with some help from my teachers and family I got back on track with school and my studies.

I won't make any promises to avoid disappointing anyone, but I am starting to consider going back to writing fics in the future. I've also been rediscovering some old fandoms I used to love, so I may change the list of actual fandoms I write for in the future (mostly by adding the GOT/ASOIAF fandom lol).

For now, nothing will be written, but I will reopen my requests to try and get some inspiration from your incredible ideas. Once again, thanks to everyone who stuck around and especially to those who took it upon themselves to reach out to me💗💗

Anywayyyy this is it!! I just wanted to share a slice of my life with you guys💗

I have a request, if youre taking them.

Baldwin's wife sneaks into the battle in 1177 with sixteen year old Baldwin, his reaction and what not. make it your own, just thought this would be cool

King Baldwin x reader - My archangel

A/N: I absolutely LOVE this idea! I've never thought of a scenario like this before, so thank you so so much for the suggestion<3

Sorry if this took so long btw, I haven't been active lately because of school and work😔😔

As always, painting is "The Crown of Love" by John Everett Millais (it's so funny to me for no reason, it just makes me think of how Baldwin would be physically dragging you out of danger).

Summary: During the most importante battle of his life so far, the last person king Baldwin expected to see on the battlefield was his newlywed wife

Warning: war, but it's more of a background thing, mentions of injuries and a hint at misogynism

Word count: 5433

It had been decided. Jerusalem's knights and soldiers would be riding towards Saladin's army at dawn, led by their king, King Baldwin IV of Anjou. Your Baldwin.

The mere idea that tomorrow your husband would find himself fighting face to face against the most fearsome of his enemies terrified you, especially knowing that you could do nothing to protect him. He had expressly said he did not want you or his sisters anywhere near the battlefield, it was too risky. You should have waited for his return, for him to be victorious astride his steed, now lying lifeless on a black bed.

You closed your eyes, begging your mind to spare you from the projection of that macabre image in your head. But you could do nothing against these emotions, which were tearing at your mind and spirit. You could not remain still and impassive, obedient and elegant as you always were as a young princess, then as a wife and now as a queen.

No, that image of you had to slumber, if only for a while. You did not have your kingdom on your mind at that moment, only Baldwin and the overwhelming desire to be close to him.

You cursed your nature for making you a woman, for not having had the opportunity to learn the art of arms and war. You cursed your long robes that prevented you from any daring movement, and your limbs because even if they were able to move freely they would not have the strength to even wield a sword.

As Baldwin fell asleep in your arms, exhausted by the fatigue that this imminent battle was costing him, and you held him close to your heart as if to compel him eternally into your embrace, you weaved a plan in your mind. A plan not to leave him alone at dawn, to stay as close to him as possible.

Because even if it was the day God would claim your husband's soul, at least you wanted to be near him as he took his last breath.

How selfish you were, not even death would have been left for him. But then again, poets have been saying it for centuries, love is the gravest form of madness.

You woke up in an empty bed, the spectre of a kiss floating on your bare shoulder where Baldwin's lips had rested a few moments before, when he had to arouse himself to lead his army into battle. And despair pervaded you almost immediately, when when you woke up still no idea had come to your mind to stay by his side, after you had hoped that sleep would grant you a solution to your problem.

Unable to hold back tears of frustration and despair, you summoned your favourite handmaiden, your nurse, old to almost retirement but cunning as a mischievous child. You wept on her welcoming lap, clutching the fabric of her robe in your fists.

"Oh Agnes, how unfair is my fate as a woman. I am asked to stand by my husband's side all my life and yet I am denied a place beside him in these dark times. And they tear him from my arms and leave me here, alone and helpless, these monstrous Saracens!" She looked at you with sympathetic eyes, stroking the long hair that fell from your shoulders, which resembled the waves of the sea as they shook slightly from your sobs. "What can I do, Agnes? You who always have a quick tongue to give solutions to my every worry, tell me what I can do, before his horse and troops are too far away to be seen."

She, like a mother consoling a child who has injured himself while playing, took your face with one hand, inviting you to turn your gaze towards her. As she wiped the tears that streaked your cheeks with her thumb, she spoke softly to you, although her tone had a hint of her typical mischief in it: "My lady, weeping over your fate does not suit you. Instead, I propose you run. Make haste to the armoury, there you are sure to find armour left behind by some lord. Do you follow me? Well, you will simply have to put on the armour, carrying a pair of your husband's breeches underneath. And keep your helmet tightly closed, so that it cannot be seen that beneath the armour there is not a brutish knight, but a beautiful queen.

Go out of the palace through the servants' passages, and buy the horse of the first man you find. Not yours, in the royal stable they would notice his absence. And then all that remains is for you to ride, ride as fast as you can, to reach the Christian encampments as soon as possible, which by then will have been set up. Remain aloof, and reveal yourself to your husband only. And do so at night, in his tent, where no unwanted eyes can see your unexpected encounter. Is it all clear, my lady?"

You merely nodded frantically with eyes wide in wonder and relief. You practically leapt into the air, quick to grab the first slip you could find and a pair of cheap shoes that you could ruin with all your impending travels. You were about to leave the room, but stopped for a moment at the threshold, before turning back to Agnes to hold her tightly in a warm embrace.

"What would I do without you, my dear. You are even better than a guardian angel, I wouldn't be surprised if one day you left some white feathers behind!" The woman squeezed you affectionately before pushing you away playfully, urging you to get out and go and do whatever she directed. "It is the job of a nurse, to solve a child's problems in the same way as a mother. But hurry now or the battle will be over before you have even found a helmet!"

You laughed lightly as you wiped the dried tears from your cheeks, wasting no more time in rushing to get what was necessary to implement your plan. You rushed in front of the crate containing Baldwin's clothes, tossing robes and shirts in the air until you found breeches fit for a ride. You hastily donned them, then dashed down the long corridors of the palace.

Once in the armoury, you began to spin like a wheel, desperately searching with your eyes for any armour. You weren't picky, anything would have been more than enough: you'd have been fine with just a breastplate, chain mail, simple shoulder straps,… But most of all, you needed a helmet. And that you found almost immediately in your mad search. It was crudely moulded and already bore a few dents on the sides, but you paid no attention to it, it was enough to conceal your identity.

You also found a breastplate, and that was all you needed. You considered taking a sword with you too, but quickly changed your mind: it might be foolish to most, but you hoped that if an enemy found you unarmed, his honour would prevent him from challenging you to a fight.

And then, your focus on your sword quickly faded as you remembered that you still had no horse to reach the battlefield. Running awkwardly, like a child ambitiously trying on his father's far too large armour, you stepped back into the corridors, this time frantically searching with your eyes for a servant to follow towards the back exit.

It must have been a hilarious scene from an outside observer, a burly swineherd looking perplexed over his shoulder as a half-armed knight los eguiva like a tin puppet through the narrow corridors. But the scene was short-lived, for after a couple of turns you finally reached the palace exit, and emerged into the crowded streets of the city.

I had to move my helmet slightly above my eyes to better see the road around you, scanning the area for any horse. You could only see two camels, a few cows, a hen with her small flock of chicks, but no horse in sight. But just when you were about to give up hope, a mysterious force swept over you.

More than mysterious force, you were almost overwhelmed by a horse held on the bridle by a dirty, smelly man. "Out of the way, kid!" Looking at the man with wide eyes, taking good care to make sure your helmet covered your features well, you strained to speak in the most naturally deep voice you could muster, attempting to fool the yokel into mistaking you for a mere boy.

"Sir how much… how much are you asking for your horse?" He laughed, opening his mouth wide and exposing his few remaining teeth, yellow and frayed, and looked at you with a look of paucity and mockery, "You're going off to war without even a horse? The Saracens will impale you like a spit, son. Not that the battle would do you any good either way, with the child king we have, they will all be wiped out. before they even reach those bloody Arabs!”

You clenched your jaw so tightly that you thought your teeth might blow out from the pressure, so hard were you trying to suppress your anger at that disrespectful commoner. Breathing slowly, trying to calm your nerves, you spoke in stiff, icy words, "30 shillings. And you leave me the saddle" The man's eyes widened, incredulous at how much a young man was willing to pay for his old, shabby horse. But he wasn't complaining at all; in fact, better for him if the thirst for war drove the youth of today to such lengths. If only he had known that it was not the bloodlust of a daring young man that was before him, but instead the affectionate madness of a desperate wife.

He did not even answer, stretched out his open hand in front of him where a moment later a bag full of coins fell. He opened it for good measure, making sure the hefty sum was true. When he was satisfied, he slowly handed you the bridle, dazed by the small fortune he was holding.

You hoisted yourself awkwardly onto the horse, and it was not a quick operation as it seemed almost impossible for you not to fall off the horse, so much was the armor restricting your every move and weighing you down. After a few minutes of tribulation, you finally steadied yourself in the saddle and with a firm gesture of your leg, spurred the steed, which galloped off in an instant.

At a gallop, the city didn't seem nearly so big. Nor did the streets seem so crowded, perhaps because the people spread out like the sea in front of Moses as you passed, trying to escape the unpleasant fate of being swept away by the running horse and its mysterious rider. You felt as if you were sailing through the waves of the sea, with people's heads bobbing up and down, a current of movement pushing you closer and closer to the city gates. No one paid much attention to you as you crossed the threshold into the kingdom of heaven, most just thought you were a careless rider who had fallen behind, perhaps this was your first battle. Whatever your problem was, it was not about the wall guards. And so your figure disappeared from the sight of the remaining citizens in the city, vanishing into the vastness of the endless desert.

You did not know quite how long you rode, how many hours it took you before you began to locate even the slightest trace of the passage of the army of Jerusalem. At first it was only small details, marks left on the ground, mainly trinkets possibly dropped to the soldiers during the ride. Then the signs of their passage became more prominent, when around a small oasis you even found a few abandoned spears, probably forgotten back by some careless soldier.

And you stopped there for only a moment, as thirst would have prevented you from going any further. As you drank from the body of water, your mind travelled in thought to your husband; who knows if he too drank from this spring? And if so, how long has it been? Will he be far from here? What would he say when he saw you retracing the passage he and his troops were tracing? At that last thought a shiver ran down your spine, most likely he would not be very happy to know you were so close to danger. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the image of the look that Baudouin would give you if he saw you at that moment, alone, barely armed in the vast and merciless desert, with no escort to protect you…

You only hoped that the surprise and joy of seeing you at such a tragic moment might cloud his mind from any concern he might have for you. In the meantime you had quenched your thirst enough. Regaining the reins of your horse, and after a series of ministrations to remount the saddle, you resumed your ride towards the battle with the unknown outcome.

As you rode with the wind blowing in your face, with nothing to entertain or distract you, your mind could not but return again to Baldwin. You could not help it, for fear for his fate had been tearing at your soul for days without respite, ever since it was announced that a battle would take place.

Baldwin was too young for all this. He was barely of marriageable age, he could barely reign without a regent at his side, he was hardly considered more than a child, many nobles even refused to call him an adult! And then there was his illness, which although not yet crippling, had already begun to expand its deadly effect on his body, numbing his nerves and making it impossible for him to wield his right hand properly. It was really unfair, that a man in his condition should lead an army to what everyone considered certain death.

Death at the hands of the Saracens, who were rumoured to be as many as ten times the number of the army of Jerusalem. A sob escaped from your mouth, followed by a faint stream of tears that ran down your cheeks, but they were short-lived on your face, the dry desert wind dried them in no time.

Only an instant seemed to pass, time to bring a hand to his face to wipe away the dried saline tears. Yet when your gaze focused again on the landscape in front, you saw a few hundred metres away a series of white tents, a few faint rows of smoke rising in the air, a massive cross set with precious gems, leaning against a rough wooden construction. It was the camp of the Jerusalem army.

Getting off your horse, you advanced hesitantly through the camp. Looking around, you noticed the stunned gazes of soldiers and horsemen watching you, some intrigued by your unkempt armor, some confused by your clumsy way of moving. But although the attention of their gazes made you stop breathing, fearing that you had been discovered, but fortunately it was short-lived, all the men were too tired from the exertions of the journey to investigate even this oddity. Taking you for an inexperienced little boy, they looked away from you and proceeded to drag their aching limbs back to their respective tents.

But although no one gave you more than the attention you give any stranger on the street, your heart would not stop beating furiously in its cage. You quivered at the mere thought of seeing your husband again, who although he had recently separated from you, already felt as if you had not seen him for an eternity. And your soul screamed at the idea that this might be the last time you would see him alive, and urged your legs to move faster. From hesitant strides, your gait grew brisk, impatient, and faster and faster until you burst into a frantic run through the expanse of white tents.

You scanned one, two, ten, a hundred, so many that by now they seemed to you an endless bundle of the same white cloth. But although your hope gave no sign of existing from your mission, your legs were beginning to give out under the constant strain you had subjected your body to for endless hours. You had no choice but to stop to catch your breath, resting your hands on your trembling thighs as you gasped for breath. And it was in that very instant, while you neither heard nor saw anything but the roar of your heart echoing in your ears and the rough ground flattened by the heavy footsteps of the soldiers, dark because of the blurred evening light, that you heard it. That voice.

"We will discuss this tomorrow, now I need the rest" "Certainly, my lord." The dialogue was followed by a knight of high lineage who came out of the tent in front of which you had pulled up to rest. He did not even dignify you with a glance, and you could not care less, for it was not him you were interested in. He was the first man to speak who had captured your complete attention, making the whole world fade away around you. It was a jovial voice, full of life despite obvious tiredness. It was a boy's voice. It was Baldwin's voice.

You sidled up to the curtain of the tent and, before opening your mouth, breathed slowly, tending not only to ease your nerves but also to modulate your voice to make it more masculine, deeper. The deception was to be revealed only when you were alone in the tent, away from prying eyes.

"My king, I know you are now bereft of strength, but grant me a brief interview with your majesty." You could visualize him rolling his eyes, puffing silently and running his good hand over his eyes, as he was always wont to do when any courtier demanded his attention while he was already lying in your arms. And as whenever this familiar event took place, similarly Baldwin made an effort in this case to stand up and mutter a reply, unaware that the subject behind the cloth was not just any boy, but his beloved wife. "I'm afraid I'm in no condition for a meeting at the moment. We will discuss whatever you need tomorrow." Panic grew in you hearing him so indisposed. After all, you should have expected it; he had more to think about than granting an interview to an anonymous soldier. In an instant, however, you changed your strategy, if you couldn't convince him you would have to bait him, "Please, sir, give me a few minutes! I bring with me a great surprise, a gift that I know will fill your heart with joy and restore your energy!"

He paused, as if weighing his options. At least that was what you thought, but in truth Baldwin was wondering if he was going crazy. If he had only dreamed, due to exhaustion and fatigue, that the voice speaking to him from outside the tent was not any young man's, but a disguise meant to hide the angelic melodic voice of his beloved wife. Were it really her, Baldwin would not have wasted a moment in throwing open the door for her, taking her into his arms and carrying her to his momentary abode, where her presence alone could be savored by him.

But he knew it could not be possible: you, his beloved wife whose image constantly pervaded his mind, were thousands and thousands of feet away, safe within the walls of your palace, as you had promised him. It was just not possible that you were the one hiding outside the tent, his hopes were just a cruel game of his mind. But by now his attention had been caught by the stranger so eager to talk to the king, to give him this phantom gift. Perhaps there would have been cause for concern, for thought of possible deception or assault by an enemy spy, but Baldwin did not give the thought more than a second's attention, before sighing softly and turning away, gazing back at the white fabrics of the tent. "Very well, come forward then. I hope this surprise you tell me about is really that formidable."

You came close to slinging yourself into the tent, throwing yourself into Baldwin's arms in an instant, and never letting go. But you still couldn't do it; it was too risky. You merely placed a hand on the side of the fabric that closed the curtain, pulling it to go through and letting it fall back behind you. And there you stood, facing Baldwin, clad in that armor far too large for your size, your heart pounding wildly from both the fatigue of the journey and the excitement. And he slowly, with a phlegm as elegant as the waters of a stream, turned to reveal the identity of his mysterious visitor, and you had already freed your face from the tortuous confines of the helmet you had worn for endless hours.

His eyes widened, wide as never before. Perhaps for the first time in his life, Baldwin could say he was truly, truly surprised. A thousand emotions passed from his face, from astonishment, to joy, to anger, and then to sadness, and then to astonishment again. For a moment he seemed about to open his mouth, but he stopped, opting instead to run to you, putting his arms around you, holding you tight and lifting you off the ground so tight was his grip. "My affection, how can you be so foolish! This is no place for you, so far from home, close to the enemy… You promised me you would stay safe, let me go, let me protect you! How could you do something so rash, you who are always so wise? Alone through the desert, what if the enemy had met you before I got here? What would I have done if your lifeless body, tortured by the Saracens, had been brought to me?"

His voice was exhausted, worn out by weariness and emotion that blocked his throat and threatened to make hot tears fall from his white cheeks. His words were harsh and stern, but devoid of any reproach: it was his fear speaking, his fear of seeing you the next day among the stacked bodies of war victims. And as he spoke he held your arms, shook you lightly, and in the process interrupted himself to place chaste kisses on your face, as if through the touch of his lips he was trying to convince himself that you were really there, standing before him. That it was not a mere illusion, a game of his mind.

Gently, with a touch as light as the morning wind, your hands went up his chest to his beautiful face, which you lovingly cupped. "I swore before God that I would not abandon my place at your side until the breath leaves my body. I have enjoyed with you wealth, pomp, and good fortune. But what you have granted me to witness is only half of the aspects of a nuptial union. Poverty, sickness, and the misery of war are the woes that touch every human being, and which two spouses are expected to face together. So now, my king, I beseech you, do not deny me a place at your side as you fight for the honor and freedom of the Holy Land, do not deny me a duty that has been mine since you and I were joined in eternity. It is unjust what you have subjected me to, to have to watch you ride away from me, toward the worst of dangers! And how could you think I would let you go just like that, without opening my mouth? Now we are even, I have retraced the path you yourself have traced, as bereft of safety as you were bereft of my presence. And now together we face this mortal danger, which, however, will never hold a candle to the pain that distance from you brings me!"

Baldwin's eyes softened, though they had a melancholy note in them. He inhaled with shuddering breath, and his grip became softer on your body, his hands descended from his arm to your waist, always holding you as close as physically possible.

"I was always told that silence honors women. This does not suit you, for depriving you of speech robs you of the royalty that makes you my queen. I ask your forgiveness, my angel, for leaving you alone in such a dark time. But try to understand my choice, how self-centered would I have been to ask you to come with me, in the midst of the greatest danger? It was simply too much for me, my beloved, the burden on my heart, begging me to do all that was permissible to keep you safe, even if that necessitated keeping you away from me. You are too far away now for me to send you back to the palace with an escort, and my heart could not bear to part with you for even another hour. You will stay here, ruling your people as you should. But please do not do me the wrong of setting foot on that bloody battlefield tomorrow. If even God decides that tomorrow my hour has come, and I fall lifeless on the bloody ground, do not move a step, do not show any sign of weakness. Don't follow me into the afterlife, don't even think about it: I know full well that I will never have the honor of lying eternally by your side, I am not worthy of it, so don't jeopardize your precious life in the name of an eternity by my side."

You did not respond, and silence fell. Squeezing together for another moment, you broke away shortly thereafter only to move to the bed set up in his tent, not as luxurious as his usual palace bed but certainly far more comfortable than the hay bunks in which soldiers elsewhere rested. Clinging to each other, you remained silent for a few moments. Or maybe it was hours, neither of you knew. Nor did you care, knowing how much time had passed, how much more separated you from the inescapable fate that awaited you the next day. Silent tears streaked your faces, sobs and sighs filled the air of the room. Then, you took courage to open your mouth, your voice soft and melancholy, weakened by weeping. "How unfair is our fate, affection. How bitter is my soul, knowing that tomorrow I must witness such a slaughter, an open-air slaughterhouse in which you yourself may become yet another victim."

As your first response you heard a snort from your husband, who squeezed you tighter for a moment, as if to secure you beside him, engulf you in his body. His lips pressed against your temple, placing a gentle kiss there, and they remained resting there even as he began to speak, "I know, I know my angel. I too wish things were simpler, that I could retire from this world, go and live with you, away from all this chaos, all this violence. You don't know how much I would have liked to abdicate, to leave the throne to Sybilla and her husband. They would have been good rulers, if only dear William had not passed away so soon. And so we have only to live like this, my beloved. To live perpetrated by the duties and horrors that mankind is capable of, all in the name of God's affection," a pause, a look that said a thousand silent words, and then resumed, "in the name of my affection for you… Tomorrow it will be an honor for me to fight, for like the valiant Lancelot, who fought to his last breath in the name of beautiful Guinevere. I do not care if my life will be endangered, if I return wounded and maimed more than leprosy is already reducing me. No, I don't care, because at the end of the day, whether my heart still beats or not, I know that I will return to lie in your arms.

And that makes up for all the injustices I will have to face." The last words were whispered, softened by a deep affection that numbed the senses and made everything as graceful as the clouds in the sky.

More tears streamed down your rosy cheeks, but you tried to conceal them by hiding your face in the crease of Baldwin's neck. The tone grew sterner for a moment as he resumed speaking, intimating you to listen with a grip on your shoulder. "Just promise me that, in case the battle goes badly, and I am dead and defeated and my whole army with me, promise me that you will escape, as far away as you can. Find shelter at the dwellings of those who have abstained from this conflict, find asylum in churches and in any sacred place you can find. Do whatever you can in order to protect your life. Protect what has always been dearest to me, your life."

"I will, I promise." You would have liked to retort, or much less say what he wanted to hear without really thinking it. But deception did not suit you, not toward Baldwin at least. And the mere thought that that might be his last will, which made you want to throw yourself to the ground and cry every tear you had in your body, also made it impossible for you to disobey that simple request, which after all was the request that you care for your own body and soul.

Whether Baldwin had taken your word for it or not, you were not sure, it was hard to say. It didn't matter, both of you were too tired to linger talking any longer, contrary to your usual routine of endless discussions on all kinds of topics. He whispered something to you in his native tongue, and although the language was vaguely unfamiliar to you and fatigue clouded your mind, you could still discern a sweet "I love you" among the words he spoke.

The next day your awakening was similar to the day Baldwin left Jerusalem: alone in bed, the place where your husband lay still warm. Outside the men were shouting orders and the horses were pawing in irritation at the din. In the distance you could hear the cries of the Saracens approaching, and the horns of war echoing in the air. You tried to peep your head out of the tent, but a guard surprised you right in front of the entrance. "My lady, his majesty has ordered that you do not leave the tent until the battle is over." The tone was authoritative and gentle at the same time, but his spear was stretched across the opening of the tent, an admonition far more direct than his words. You obeyed, as you had promised Baldwin that same evening, and without protest you retreated back inside the small temporary dwelling.

And so you stood there, alone and unaware of what was unfolding beyond the white tent. The last sound you were able to discern was your beloved's voice inciting his men to battle, before the din of war produced such a cacophony that it was impossible to understand a single sentence spoken. They rode for a few hundred meters until they reached the place where the battle would take place. They rode so far that the din they caused as they passed became muffled, barely audible. And perhaps it was for the best, for the distance muffled the atrocious sounds of war, of slaughter.

And so you waited there, within the four fabric walls, white as snow, that you feared at every moment might be stained with blood, friend or foe. You waited for the outcome of the battle, dumb with fear, with tension. You awaited Baldwin's return, dead or alive, victorious or defeated. And you did so by standing there, closer to him than was possible, exhausted and restless at the same time.

A/N: Yallll this was LONGGGG. i really really like how this turned out, and i hope you do too! I'm really sorry for how long it took me to write this piece, but I promise the following ones will take much much less🙏🙏🙏 Anyway, now I gotta go start working on those, feel free to leave a comment or feedback about this fic<3<3

QUICK MESSAGE

For all the people who sent me fic/headcanons requests, they're being written don't worry! It's taking me much, much longer than expected because of some school issues I've been having, but they're on their way to get posted!

Hopefully they'll be almost all out before june, but I won't make promises.

Just so that you know that your requests haven't been forgotten, here's a list of all requested Baldwin IV fics that I'm working on rn:

Reader sneaks into the battle of Montgisard to reunite with her husband

Reversed "sweetest of melodies" where Baldwin is the one singing

Labor and birth headcanons

Reader giving birth to triplets (will probably be a part 1 for the other following two)

Baldwin has to keep distance from his newborn children

Baldwin and reader spending time with their children

Baldwin falls in love with the bandit that kidnapped him

Baldwin comforting reader after a nightmare

General headcanons

Only case in which Baldwin would lash out at reader

Reader who loves math

Baldwin falling in love with a servant

These should be all, I really wanted to make this post to reassure those who have asked for these fics almost weeks ago, please bare with me I'm trying to write as quickly as possible without lowering the quality of my writing😭😭

REQUESTS ARE OFFICIALLY CLOSED

I'm sorry everyone, but I've got 14 requests waiting already and with the little time I've got lately it'd be impossible to keep up with all of them.

I'll probably reopen them once I've finished the ones in my drafts, though!

MASTERLIST

Kingdom of Heaven:

King Baldwin IV:

Life always comes down to a game of chess

I’ll be waiting for you

Sweetest of melodies

My archangel - coming soon!

Bandit - coming soon!

Voice of Heaven - coming soon!

Like Lancelot - coming soon!

Headcanons:

Arguing with you

Sickness

Period

Defending your honor

Nsfw

Cats or dogs?

Modern headcanons: modern music, pt 2, pt 3, reaction to immodest clothing, modern style, chips and drinks, anime

Percy Jackson and the Olympians:

Luke Castellan:

Last date

Ghost of you - coming soon!

Heroes Of Olympus:

Leo Valdez:

Headcanons - child of Aphrodite!S/O

Trials of Apollo

Lester Papadopoulos/Apollo:

It's Over, isn't It? - part one

Eternal Bonds - part two

The Arcana

Asra Alnazar:

Headcanons - Intimacy before and after

Young and Beautiful - coming soon!

You're my plague - coming soon!

Julian Devorak:

Kiss the girl - coming soon!

Avatar: the Last Airbender -> Out of the Masterlist

Aang:

That voice in his head

Can you make more head canons for Baldwin? Like what would he do if you two got into an argument etc etc.

King Baldwin x reader - Arguing with you

A/N: Sure thing sweetie!! I must apologize though, I only did the argument part because I didn't really have much time left and I didn't know what else to add. Hope you'll still like it though!

As always, painting is King Lear, Act I, Scene I by Edwin Austin Abbey :))

Warning: none, literally. Should f!reader a warning? If yes then there's that

Firs of all, Baldwin does not argue with you. He's a pacifist at heart, he always prefers talking things through and negotiate to get out of hard situations. To him, that is a form of respect, the desire to talk as equals and not trying to impose his own will on the other

And since he does that with his enemies, how could he not give you the same treatment? You, who lighten his days darkened by his duties and his sickness, you who save him from the burden of his own thoughts

And even if you tended to be more on the aggressive/prone to arguments side, he still wouldn't budge, and just keep on talking but most of all LISTENING, Baldwin respects you more than anyone else, your thoughts are sacred to him and should be treated as such!

If the argument is about something that he did to upset you, be it an unpleasant comment or a forgotten appointment (only happened once and it was because he had been kept busy by his counselors), he will do anything to make you feel any better

If the argument is about his tendencies to neglect his own health, then good luck with that because his own moral code physically prevents him from letting go of his duties to favor resting and trying to better his condition. Still, he will reassure you with gentle touches and soft words that he understands your worries, and you are the sweetest angel to care so much about him

But he cannot let his kingdom to fend for itself just because of a bad day for his leper body, he will have to wait until the evening to be reunited with you and finally let himself rest, your own anger at his stubborness long gone as you cradle his head on your lap. You still appreciate his soft apologies as you caress his mangled face, though

Now, speaking about what he'll do to make it up to you for any argument- or mostly, things that he did that upset you since he doesn't really argue with you

First of all, he will excuse himself for having upset you in the first place, listening to your every word to understand precisely what exactly it is that he did that he will avoid making again

Then, he will try to get any form of physical contact with you. He needs it, desperately, having been so isolated from any human touch for years other than his physicians'

Hell, he might even kneel for you if it meant having your forgiveness, if it meant being able to hug your legs like the supplicants of the ancient books he read about

If you'll let him get close to you, he'll kiss you all over while he'll keep apologizing and openly reflect on the things that he will change to make it up properly. Kinda reminds me of Gomez and Morticia on that scene (hence the painting I chose)

And after you will have forgiven him, that night he'll hold you a little closer, whispering sweet apologies while you sleep soundly, unaware of how dedicated your husband is to learn from his mistakes

All in all, I really don't see Baldwin as someone you'd ever argue with, but that doesn't stop him from making up for his every mistake like he'd caused you the worst of wrongs

You're his Heaven, and he'll treat you as such

I love your story of Apollo / Lestrage x reader, it was very cute, I hope Apollo manages to make his partner immortal (like Hercules / Heracles)

Thank you so much for the support, I must say I really didn't like it that much at first but I saw that it was really well perceived by you guys so thank you😭😭💕

Also, you'll get to find out reading the second part that I have posted just now, hope you'll like the ending ;)

Hi!! i love your writing sm, i was just wondering if I could be added to your tag list anytime you post King Baldwin IV fanfics? if not, that's okay!

Omg thank you so much😭😭 Absolutely yes!! I'll tag you right away on the last fic (that I literally just finished writing lmaoo).

Also, if you like how I write his character then I'm sure you'll love the series I'm gonna start writing very very soon :3

Lester Papadopoulos/Apollo x reader - It's Over, isn't It?

A/N: okay so a few weeks ago I was listening to the song “It’s Over isn’t it” form the Steven Universe series and this scenario came to my mind, so I thought I’d just make it a fic! For this piece I didn’t see a point in assigning a gender to the reader, so we go with gender neutral all the way😎😎(neither your godly parent is specified since it doesn’t really add anything to the plot, so you can choose whichever you prefer)

PART TWO IS HERE

Warning: insecurity, jealousy, angst (WITH comfort tho), mentions of suggestive activities

Word count: 3209

You kinda hate yourself right now, and you hate yourself because you are so angry right now.

Well maybe angry is an exaggeration, but still, you’re really, really upset.

And you know you should be anything but upset right now. I mean, the love of your life finally has the chance to go back to his home in the Olympus, regain his honor and his status as a god. Those were all good things that you should be ecstatic about, right?

Well, wrong.

Just thinking of it made you feel like you could throw up at any moment. Thinking about the fact that Apollo. Because, what will be of Lester, your Lester?

Your whole relationship had started because he wasn’t Apollo. He wasn’t the tall, tan, handsome and all mighty God of the Sun; he was just a normal teen, whose only things that made him stick out were his acne, his clumsiness and a somewhat nice voice. His mortal condition didn’t even give him a single chance to act in his usual exaggerated, narcissistic self. He had to start off from the start, build a personality that wasn’t based on his godly qualities, but on something more real.

And in that situation he found himself in, with his new eyes he had seen you, and you truly seemed like a deity to him. 

How could you be anything less to the rest of the world, he thought. You were your godly parent’s greatest hero, you were liked and admired by most campers both because of your victories and your looks. And he spent oh so many nights fantasizing about taking you back with him in Olympus, giving you the godly status that should be rightfully yours. But hell, with the body he’d found himself in he’d barely the courage to come up to you to talk.

He told you so many times how absolutely surprised he was when he found out that you actually liked him back, even if he looked like any 17 year old loser, his actual words. And you remembered too, how his voice was so shaky as he tried to muster up a coherent sentence, how his cheeks shone a bright red, how his hands were trembling as you took them into yours and his palms sweating. But in your mind, that was more beautiful than any sonnet, any haiku, any poem, any grandiose, Apollo-like gesture. Because that was Lester, not Apollo; and in your eyes, Lester’s awkwardness was what made him stand out, because it was purely genuine.

Now ever so often you wonder, if he used to feel like you’re feeling right now, like you’re no match to the person you love. You look at your reflection in the mirror of the bathroom, and the mean joke that played your mind made you highlight all the flaws you could spot in yourself. All things that a god could never accept in their lover. You feel so wrong, so flawed that you just wish you could turn yourself into mud and reform your appearance completely.

Gods, you’re being ridiculous right now, you think, you just want to slap yourself in the face and yell at your reflection to get a grip goddamnit! You’re one of the greatest heroes of your time, you survived two wars, you can’t possibly draw the line at a failed relationship with a god. 

At one point someone might think: but why are you so opposed to the idea that your boyfriend is finally becoming a god once again? How ungrateful can you be??

But the point is, you know damn well that the whole point of the creation of Lester was forcing Apollo into a form that would’ve been the total opposite of who he is.

Because Apollo is naturally flirty and superficial, he loves to love and be loved, and he pursues anything and everything that he finds beautiful. But he got bored easily of his love conquers, hence why he has so many kids. So in your mind, it was only natural that as soon as he was back to normality, he’d grow tired of you and move to the next mortal that piqued his interest, maybe even leaving you a single parent to a new demigod.

That’s why you couldn’t stop that nagging feeling deep into your core, as you walked out of your cabin, hearing all the girls already speculating about how beautiful, handsome, shiny and dashing Apollo will be once he goes back to his form. “And who knows, maybe he’ll set his eyes on some of the friends he made in here” squealed a girl, from which cabin you did not know nor care. Her friend replied: “Yeah I mean, ain’t no way he’s gonna keep staying with the same partner forever. I mean, come on, he’s Apollo!” They both giggled like school girls, then kept gossiping about something else, but you did not care enough to keep eavesdropping their whole conversation.

You really hated yourself for being like this right now.

Of course, you know that those two girls meant no harm, it wasn’t their fault if they knew just as much as you did about Apollo’s tendencies. And about that you’re already came to terms with, but there’s something else you hate yourself for…

You stopped reaching out to him. Or even worse, you even started to avoid him. 

Not also him, but your friends and siblings as well. You closed yourself off of everyone else in your life, opting to spend your free days in Camp by yourself, whether it is in your cabin, sparring or all alone in your favorite spot in the forest.

Which is exactly where you’re directed to right now, as you put your headphones in your ears, wasting no time to press play and then abuse the volume up button to muffle any sound from the outside. You walk past the two girls, past another group of guys that were training with one another, and past your friends too, who you didn’t noticed as they were calling and waving at you to join them for a quick snack, leaving them rather confused and preoccupied as it seemed that you were stuck in a trance, locked out in another dimension of your own.

You didn’t even see Lester excusing himself from the group to subtly start following you wherever you were going.

It’s a quiet place, the one in the forest, protected by a thick layer of trees and bushes that makes it hard to reach it; but it’s worth all the climbing and scratches for the beautiful sight of a clear waterfall that fell right into a circular body of water, surrounded  by a rather big field of moss, so soft and fresh to lay on during the hot summer nights.

And so you did, letting yourself fall on that natural mattress, then closing your eyes to feel the light breeze on your exposed skin, and let the words of the song that’s blasting at full volume at the moment fill your ears, although you can barely focus on what they’re saying

It really seems unfair, all of this. That you thought you had fallen in love not with a god, but with a boy. Somehow forgetting that boy and god mixed in Lester, two sides of the same coin.

And maybe he forgot too, because every time the two of you were together, he suddenly couldn’t bring himself to think of the responsibilities that were waiting for him. With you, he forgot about his lost and very much missed abs and tan, he forgot about his chariot and his comfortable place in Olympus. Hell, you even made him forget about all his old lovers. It was really only you in his eyes, just as he was in yours. If only he’d ever told you all of this though…

Your mind keeps swirling in a million thoughts, until it fixates on one memory in particular.

You and him, alone on that very same spot in the forest. In a similar situation as you were now, too, with your crappy phone playing music softly in the background, as the the two of you laid together, one next to the other. You turn around to look at him briefly, only to find him already looking at you. “What, do I have something on my face or..” he just shake his head with the most lovestruck eyes you’d ever seen, batting his eyes slowly before looking at you once again, “I just really want to kiss you right now”.

Your eyes widen. His eyes widen. Did he really just say THAT?

Neither of you were sure how or why, thinking back to it, you wonder if it was his godly charm poking at the back of his head. But that didn’t matter at the time, the future in which he came back to his godly state seemed so far from you, it wasn’t even an option in your head.

Nevertheless, after the initial shock from his words, you silently answered him with a slow, almost numbed movement of the head, nodding slightly, almost scared that if you moved to fast you would’ve whisked him away, or that he could’ve changed his mind already.

But that nod was all that he needed before crashing his lips against yours, one of his hands flying to grab the side of your head, while the other stayed put on its place against the ground to keep him from falling on top of you.

The kiss was an absolute mess: teeth clashing, nose bumping against each other,... but it was perfect that way to you. You broke away from each other for a brief moment to catch your breaths, and you just look into each other’s eyes. With chests heaving, breaths mixing, you both started laughing, if only for a moment, a laugh of disbelief at what had just happened.

But that laugh didn’t last long before he moved his head closer once again, this time more slowly, more confidently. The kiss was in fact much less messy, your lips found their place against each other, the panic from before had morphed into pure butterflies in your stomach and fireworks in your eyes.

After a minute at most, you broke apart once again, but only for Lester to reposition himself on top of you in a more comfortable position. Your bodies closer than ever, you could feel everything of him….

What happened after still makes your cheeks flush red at the mere thought, but it also causes a frown to form on your face. Those times, when it was just the two of you are over. Maybe it was just a time of crisis that brought you two together, the shock from a morta perspective might have caused him to cling onto the closes person he could find. You can’t help but imagine Leste- Apollo in that moment, laying in the clouds of Olympus in a much similar scenario, maybe with a beautiful nymph or a smaller deity, or a mortal he laid his eyes on while he was on this earth-

“There you are! I should’ve known that if you’re not around you’re definitely in here.” If it were a normal, mortal voice, you wouldn’t have been able to hear it over the deafening high volume of the music blasting in you ears. But it wasn’t a mortal voice.

It was loud, it was melodic, it resonated in the air like the echo of the most beautiful of songs,…

You wouldn’t even need to turn around to know that that voice came from no other than Apollo. That’s right, he probably came back to his true form already. You can’t even imagine what a scene that would’ve been, to see the handsomely perfect god walking around Camp Half Blood, how many boys and girls had probably followed him around drooling over the sight of him. 

You wish you could just stay put, coldly dismiss him and let him go for what probably is the rest of your life and his eternity. But, curiosity gets the best of you, and you can’t help but turn around tentatively, eager to see what your boyfriend really looks like.

Your mouth quite literally hits the floor at the sight. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve always found Lester really attractive, but this.

This was something beyond the concept of handsome or beautiful.

This, him, was beyond what humans can perceive and comprehend.

Yes, you knew that his skin was tanned, but as he stood in front of you it seemed as if his body was made of bronze.

And yes, you also knew that his hair was blonde, but that didn’t make them justice. They flew, like rays of sun through a clouded sky.

Of his eyes you knew nothing about, but you were pretty sure at this point that no description could really depict just how deep, bright, captivating, alluring, even, they really were.

Your mouth quite literally hit the floor at the sight. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve always found Lester really attractive, but this.

This was something beyond the concept of handsome or beautiful.

This, him, was beyond what humans can perceive and comprehend.

Yes, you knew that his skin was tanned, but as he stood in front of you it seemed as if his body was made of bronze.

And yes, you also knew that his hair was blonde, but that didn’t make them justice. They flew, like rays of sun through a clouded sky.

Of his eyes you knew nothing about, but you were pretty sure at this point that no description could really depict just how deep, bright, captivating, alluring, even, they really were.

Your throat felt tight, your mouth dry, and your whole body gives you this tingly sensation. With all of your strength, you took a deep breath to try and calm yourself down, before mustering all of your strength to speak without a pathetic shaky voice. “I thought you were going back as soon as you got your body back.“

“Ain’t no way that I wasn’t coming to kiss my beautiful partner goodbye.” He grinned as he swiftly took a seat right by your side, propping himself on his elbow, his eyes never once leaving yours. You swore his smile was intoxicating, you’d say contagious even if the thought that this might’ve been your last moments together didn’t fill your mind with sorrow.

You wanted to protect yourself from this, detach your mind and heart from him before he does it first, leaving you with an aching heart and moving on with his eternal life.

You felt a hand come up to your cheek, holding it softly as the sweetest melody came from his lips, “I’m gonna miss you madly once I’m back there, you know?” At that, you can’t help the deep anger that fills you from inside, a feeling that expresses through icy, stinging words, as you turned your head away from his touch, “I’m sure you’ll move on in no time.”

He frowned. That wasn’t the reaction he expected from you at all, but he didn’t really take it personally, it was so obvious that there was something troubling you. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” your voice is louder, a mixture of frustration and anger. But also so much sadness, that can be felt by just how strained the sound that came from your throat is, almost as if you were fighting back tears. You swallow hard, trying to recollect yourself, “I mean that you are a God, I am just a mortal. One of many. I’ve got nothing special to be remembered for, to be remembered by you for the rest of eternity. And Im okay with it, really. Our destinies were never meant to combine, I was just another one of your lovers.” As you spoke those last words you couldn’t help but let the tears flow from your eyes, those who always looked at Lester with a mix of love and mischief, now only filled with a never ending sadness.

Slowly, as to avoid scaring you off, the renewed god took your wet face in his warm hands, pulling you closer and wiping your tears off at the same time. Gently, he spoke: “My love, you couldn’t have said anything more wrong. You are special to me, and I could never forget you. In thousands of years that I’ve existed, no one had ever treated like you did, like I wasn’t a god. Sure, it was temporary and you knew I could’ve incinerated you as soon as I got back to… this.” He looked down, gesturing at his body, a sight for sore eyes that could’ve really made you unfocus on anything were you not so taken by your talk with Apollo at the moment. “But that didn’t stop you from treating me like we were equal. And I hated it, at first. I thought it would be part of my punishment. But as time passed, I realized that being your equal was the highest of honors I could ever get. You’re… you’re crazy strong, incredibly smart, unbelievably beautiful, way too kind for your own good, especially with those brats of the kids in this Camp.”

You giggled at his words, a consistent contrast with your tearful eyes and quiet sobs, “Some of those brats are your children too, genius.” “Well then it must run in the family.” You laughed again while shaking your head, but only for a moment before returning your full attention on the boy in front of you. He took the sign to continue.

“What I’m trying to say is, I don’t think I could ever be able to let you go. Over all the lovers I had through the years, which I’m sure you know are many, you’re the only one that saw me and treated me with true love and care. Not with fearful devotion, never fearing what I was capable of. I only ever saw this kind of love in Sally Jackson, and I mocked Poseidon for letting a mortal like many treat him so casually. But now, now I get it, and to be honest I can’t help but think that you’d deserve to be called a deity far more than many others who already are. Maybe even more than me. So I refuse to ever let go of this blessing that fate has given me. And if in order to do so I have to take your soul and put it on the sky above, to rest as a star forever by my side, so be it. But trust me you’re not getting rid of me so easily.”

You crumbled like a sand castle at his words, that he spoke with the very same tone, on the very same spot when you still called him Lester, and you promised to stick by each other’s side for the time you had left, only a few months before this whole encounter. You let your head fall into his broad chest, sobbing softly as you desperately clung to him. Your tears weren’t of sadness anymore, but of relief, for you had just been given the confirmation that your lover was still yours.You spent the rest of the night there, cuddling as close to eachother as possible as you rested in peace. 

The morning after, at dawn, when he had to officially go back to his daily duties, he begrudgingly got up from his place in your arms, placing butterfly kisses on your arms and neck, careful not to wake you. He left a little not right next to you, one that read: 

“I had to go, didn’t want to wake your pretty face this early in the morning.  Meet me here at dusk tomorrow, Forever yours,  A.”

It made you smile, seeing that note as soon as you opened your eyes, almost made you forget the lack of your boyfriend next to you,… and the yelling of your friends and siblings calling for your name in the distance.

You wasted no time walking towards those voices, and when they asked you just where the hell have you been all night, you just smiled and brushed it off, but everyone noticed how your usual bright self had mysteriously came back after days of brooding.

Hours later, you were calmly eating dinner with the other campers, laughing and talking and eating seemingly decent food. You were totally clueless as to where exactly Apollo was, but you guessed he was on his chariot, on his way to let the sun set and go to your secluded spot. But little did you know, he was in neither of those places. He was actually walking up to Zeus’ throne, tall and proud as he respectfully bowed to his father. “Apollo, I see it took you no time to get used to your old life once more. I trust you have learned your lesson.”

“Indeed, father. And I came here to thank you for it all. It was… better than I expected.” Zeus lifted a brow suspiciously, eyeing his son as if trying to make out what’s in his mind just by his appearance. “Mmh I hardly believe that you only came here to thank me for your punishment.” “Heh, you’re not wrong, father. I came here to make a request.”

“Depends. What is it that you desire?”

“How do you make a demigod immortal?”

 Leo Valdez x Child of Aphrodite!reader

A/N: I haven’t got much to say this time, just a reminder that requests are open and will remain this way for some weeks at the very least:))

Warning: absolutely none (maybe some swearing? But like, two bad words), just pure fluff. Also, reader uses female pronouns

It was kind of against your destiny to fall in love: Aphrodite is bound to never return Hephaestus’ love, so that they’re stuck in a loveless marriage. With the two of you, it’s the total opposite

The exact same MOMENT you see the boy in camp, disheveled look, face covered in machine oil and dust, you’re, absolutely smitten

It’s the classical “she fell first, he fell harder” type of trope

He notices you pretty early on too, but he doesn’t even try to approach you at first

I mean, no way that the prettiest child of Aphrodite could ever even look into his direction, you’re wayyyy over his league

It takes Piper’s help to start things up, when she accidentally stumbles upon Leo while she was taking a walk around camp. “Oh how rude of me. Y/N, this is my best friend, Leo”

It would be embarrassing to write down just how much he’s stumbled on his words the first time the two of you talked, just because of how he was absolutely captured by your godly beauty

He comes to find that you’re also a lot more than you’re looks: you’re funny, smart, clever, strong as fuck, and one of the best friends Leo has ever known

It doesn’t take long for him to realize that he’s completely and irrevocably in love with you, but oh boy how long does it take him to confess it to you

He had prepared this big, fancy plan to take you by the beach, with candles all around, a circle of rose petals and in the center of it a picnic filled with all of your favorite foods waiting to be devoured

Too bad he didn’t check the weather that morning, or he would’ve seen that a storm was expected right on that evening. He might’ve asked for Percy’s or Jason’s help too, maybe they could’ve done some big-god shit to prevent the rain

Nevertheless, you both found yourself soaked wet, standing by a line of extinguished candles, the petals long gone with the wind, and the food watered down to a soup

He wanted to drown himself in the sea right then and there, but he was quickly stopped by your laugh coming from behind him

Oh gods, where you making fun of him? Did you figure out what his intentions were? It must’ve been it, I mean, how could you ever want to have anything to do with him other than simple friendship, he’s been so stupid so reckles-

His track of thoughts was interrupted by your hands grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him in for a loving kiss, your skilled lips so soft and comforting against his much inexperienced ones

“You could’ve just told me you liked me at Camp, you know.”

“Wait, was it that simple?”

You laughed again shaking your head at his cluelessness, and he swore the sound of your laugh could’ve been the only thing he needed to live from that moment on

Okay no maybe food too, but you get the idea

You spend most of the time chilling in cabin 9 while he works on his projects, chilling in his bed or peaking at what he was doing

He definitely calls you dove for obvious reasons

Best believe that as soon as you guys are a thing all his flirting with every girl that moves is OVER my boy does not come from the streets he’s a loyal mf

After the curfew you usually sneak out to chill in some secluded area in the forest, and cuddle for hours in the moonlight

And whenever it rains, you waste no time to go at the beach and dance in the rain, reminiscing about the day you two got together

Oh, and get ready to see Leo as an emotional wreck anytime one of you is on a quest, when he’s unable to text you or hear anything from you for days or even WEEKS

He’s sure that’s worse than Prometheus’ destiny

Overall it’s like a golden retriever - siamese cat relationship, 10/10 would recommend

King Baldwin IV x reader - I’ll be waiting for you

A/N: Well, how could I not make another fic for King Baldwin when the other one I made is my most liked post yet, so I decided to write this little pieceee. Sooo I guess I should warn y'all that this one will be a little less historically accurate (not that the first one was that great of a historical piece but you get the idea). Oh and as usual, this fic came into my mind the moment I saw the painting just below (which is "the Reconciliation of the Montagues and Capulets Over the Dead Bodies of Romeo andJuliet" by sir Frederic Leighton)Now enough chatting, more King Baldwin brainrot. 

Summary: in a desperate attempt to protect his kingdom after having punished Reynald de Chatillon, the king is exhausted and the long ride has increasingly worsened his already wary condition. Once he’s escorted back to the palace, his loving wife wastes no time to reunite with her beloved husband.

Warnings: kinda angsty (no happy ending tbh), vague descriptions of Baldwin’s illness related wounds. Also, reader specifically described as female.

Word count: 3209

You sat on your throne, high and proud like the royalty you were. But under the facade of your noble confidence, you felt small. Smaller than ever, actually, as the yelling of all the men in front of you filled the air and rose up to the open sky. With a simple, reckless act, Reynald de Chatillon and Guy de Lusignan had just screwed years of efforts that King Baldwin had spent trying to maintain that delicate peace that required so many lives and time to build. All washed away from the raging river that were Reynald and Guy. 

While the two men tried to defend their senseless attack, backed by a substantial group of men, another opposing group shouted at them, berating them for the offense they had given not only to Saladin but also to Jerusalem itself.

You sigh, fighting the urge to cover your ears, and curl into your own body; you opt to just turn your head and look at your beloved husband. He looked to be in a similar state as you were: although his face was now fully covered -a means of hiding the decaying state of his leprosy-ridden body- his head was bent with weary alertness, like a hawk watching its prey from a distance. You watched his body, languidly seated on his much larger throne, the only sitting position that brought him no discomfort, though it looked almost more like he was about to lie down. 

It broke your heart to see how that disease had ravaged Baldwin's body, in recent years more and more. To see him there, on the same throne on which he once sat tall and proud, while now he barely had the strength to stay upright. And you knew he was thinking the very same thing.

You were about to open your mouth, whisper something to him, anything, in order to shake him out of his thoughts and that chaotic situation, but you were interrupted in your actions by an official, who rushed to the king's side, handing him a scroll. His bandaged hands clumsily opened the scroll, and you found salvation from the noise of the room by concentrating on watching Baldwin read carefully. You watched his eyes, blue as the sky and like the waves of the sea that brought you to the Holy Land, now covered with a pale glassy glaze. 

You frowned when you heard Baldwin freeze in place, even his sitting became more erect, as if a cube of ice had slid down his back. With his gaze still fixed on the words written in that letter, he merely raised his hand slightly, a clear sign of his will.

"SILENCE!" his guard's shout resounded through the hall, overpowering the furious shouts of the men who had been barking at each other for hours now. They all turned to look at the king; their faces, a few moments ago darkened and wrinkled with anger, were now smooth and relaxed, their eyebrows raised in astonishment at their king's order. Funny, you thought, how these men because of your husband's condition sometimes simply forget how much power he possessed over them. Before it was as if he wasn't even in the room, and they were all playing at being great leaders, now there they were, staring at him, motionless as statues, submissive as ants. You curled your nose discreetly, your face a mixture of disgust and contempt. Pathetic, you thought.

After what seemed like an eternity, Baldwin finally looked up at the crowd in front of him, finally revealing what it was that had shocked him so much. "Saladin has crossed the Jordan with 200000 men," silence fell, and you felt your body going numb. Your ears seemed muffled, you could barely perceive what was happening around you. At that moment you felt so much fear for your kingdom, and concern for Baldwin and what this impending attack would cost him.

And anger, against those two fools who out of sheer vanity had endangered the lives of all the inhabitants of Jerusalem. They had put Jerusalem itself at risk; they had put Baldwin at risk.

I was brought to attention by Baldwin, who was struggling to pull himself up from his throne, walking toward his most trusted man. "We must meet him before he reaches Kerak. I will lead the army," your husband's voice was hushed and soft, so that only the man in front of him could hear. But it did not escape your ears, the implication those words had: Baldwin wants to stop Saladin, and he wants to do it himself. But this could cost him his life. 

You couldn't stop yourself; you jumped up from your seat, eyes wide in an expression somewhere between fear and surprise. Baldwin turned to look at you, the woman who always took his breath away at the mere sight of how beautiful she was. You did not fail to have that effect on him again this time, but not because of your beauty: in your eyes he saw your terror, that this was the last time you would see him alive. They hypnotized him, and begged him in a silent prayer not to leave, to give up this plan, have an ambassador sent, anyone else. Hell, let him send Guy himself to intercept the Saracen, let him be beheaded and his murder settle the account that he himself opened. But the storm of emotion in your eyes contrasted with the gentle stream of emotion flowing from your eyes

But the storm of emotions in your eyes contrasted with the gentle stream of emotions flowing from Baldwin's eyes, barely visible because of the cover concealing his tortured face. He too, through them, was silently pleading with you: but he was asking you to trust, to let go and follow his plan, to try to forget for at least a moment all the warnings the Physicians had given him over the years.

Eventually, you relented, turning your gaze away and opting to stare at a random spot in the corner of the room. Baldwin gave a silent sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, a sign of gratitude, although you could not see it. He turned to the men of his court, and with the little strength his body afforded him, he spoke in a loud, determined voice: "Assemble the army and protect the city."

All this reminded you of the last time Baldwin fought Saladin: he had barely completed his seventeenth year, and young and still full of life, he was ready to ride against the invincible Saracen king. But on that day God had been more merciful. He had granted you, if nothing else, one last night to spend with your husband, had given you the gift of a minimum of time to ensure that you bid Baldwin a proper farewell before he met what could well have been his end. Instead this time, you barely had time to briefly remove the thick veil from his face to give him a fleeting kiss and exchange a handful of words. You fought back the tears as you looked at him, opting instead to bring your hand to his cheek, the flesh of his lip having receded and decayed to such an extent that it had receded down to his cheek, eventually turning into a long scar that protruded down to his cheekbone.

"Let me go with you, I will wait for you at the castle of Reynald de Chatillon-" "No. It is too dangerous. If things go wrong with the negotiations, I don't want you or my sisters anywhere near that man." It was not often that Baldwin interrupted you while you were speaking. He respected you too much to not allow you to finish your sentences, so the fact that he did just now spoke of how important this was to him. 

"Then promise me you’ll come back to me. Safe and sound." He snorted softly, giving a hint of smile before copping his face with his hardened hands, "You know I can’t promise it." You know that, but that blatant honesty of his, which you always loved so much, was not what you wanted at the time. No, you wanted reassurance, no matter how truthful, no matter how worthless his promises may be at the end of the day, You need that fleeting distraction that mitigates the fear that’s been eating you from the inside since Baldwin put on his armor. May you risked never seeing him again.

"Please just say it." Your voice came out much softer than you meant, almost less than a whisper, perhaps because of the knot in your throat, which threatened to break free carrying a river of tears. For a moment he remained silent, turning suddenly his face towards the voice of a nobleman who called him from the entrance of his room, but did not even dignify him with an answer. After all, his attention was completely turned to his world. To you. Before I answered you, I drew your head to his with my hands, so that I could place his forehead against yours. Finally, he spoke softly, in that loving tone that he reserved only for you: "Then I promise you that I will return to you in no more than three days, and when I return I will be victorious, and I will be riding."

After that, that moment between the two of you, which so much looked like a heartbreaking farewell, lasted just before Baldwin had to go to his horse to guide his men to the enemy.

And it wasn’t long before the harsh reality became clear to you: he had lied to you. Not maliciously, of course, you were the one who begged him to say those words after all. But the fact is that three days became four, that news of the army of Jerusalem had not come any more, that the last thing you heard of your husband was that only the ride had already tried his weakened body.

Another day passed, then another, and at the dawn of the fourth day since his absence you felt your heart sink. Had something happened to him? Had the negotiations failed? What if his illness had suddenly got the better of him? Or worse, Saladin and his men had shot him, stabbed him, or yet again captured and publicly executed,…

Your mind began to spiral into an ocean of possible reasons behind this delay, and you swore that your breathing had finally stopped once and for all when a messenger on horseback arrived at the palace, frantically dismounting from his steed to rush into the throne room and bring you the message: "The negotiations were successful, but the king is in critical condition! He is returning to Jerusalem on a canopy," you dismissed the man with a slight wave of your hand, so weak that you almost looked numbed; Baldwin's advisors began to chatter, but the background murmur of their murmurs did not seem to reach your ears. No, your attention was elsewhere; it was entirely on your husband.

You took your leave of the court, hurrying to your rooms. There, like a hawk waiting impatiently for prey to feed on, you perched on the balcony overlooking the city below you, on the walls from which not many days ago Baldwin had emerged leading the army.

It was there that you began to think again, this time with a clearer mind as you knew that at least Baldwin was alive and on his way home. On his way to you. Still, this whole situation reminded you of when you were only sixteen years old, and you stood on that balcony as you do now, waiting to see Baldwin return on his horse. And on that day, when he was visible to the naked eye, and your eyes met, you saw all the life and strength of one who had just defeated the greatest enemy of his time. At that moment, he seemed almost immortal to you: he looked like a god riding proudly, leading the thousands of men behind him towards their home.

How unfair fate is, to cut short his life so early. His physicians gave him no more than thirty years, but that time seemed to you to be shortened even more when you finally caught sight of his canopy. There he lay, sprawled and motionless like a dead body, surrounded by the soft cushions and riders on either side of his transport.

Just two years ago such a journey would not have fatigued him in the least; now he was risking his life just by riding a horse. Your eyes threatened to fill with tears thinking about how much he had loved riding a horse, and now he found himself bedridden, unable in his passions. You wasted no time running through the palace corridors, eager to reach your beloved as soon as possible.

One turn to the right, then another, then down the steps, and finally straight to the palace doors, where the finely decorated canopy led the love of your life.

You rushed to his side, gently taking his mutilated hand in yours while the other stroked his masked face. He breathed faintly, his eyes closed as he tried to regain his strength after his disease had dealt him this last bludgeon. Feeling your gentle touch, Baldwin's eyes fluttered open, his glassy eyes the color of heaven meeting yours.

"You've been reckless, my love. Putting your life at risk just to do the job of a messenger!" you scolded him, but Baldwin only smiled fondly at your words. "I promised you I would've come back. And that I did, alive too." Although his voice was so weak that it sounded more like a huff of air rather than a sentence, its tone was still laced with playfulness.

It made you unable to resist the smile that was threatening to form on your lips; you did not grace him with an answer yet, opting instead to move your hand to remove the silver mask from his face. You could see his surprised and relieved expression, as he was now finally able to breathe more freely and to look at you properly. He breathed in the sight of you, almost as if trying to take in as much of you as he could. "I can't tell if it's the travel or the sight of you that takes my breath away."

You just smiled bitterly and shook your head at his silly declarations, "It must be the ride, it has tired you so much that it's making you speak nonsense." he giggled weakly, much more tiredly this time, almost as if he was about to doze off. But he fought the tiredness nonetheless, opting to just shake his head and admire you with a lovestruck look. "Maybe I am hallucinating, I think I'm seeing heaven above me."

It was supposed to be a compliment that would've made you giggle and blush, like the ones that he showered you with daily. But instead, it made your heart clench at the bare idea of it. The idea that this would be his last moments before the energies spent for this expedition would be too much for him to handle, and God will reclaim his most virtuous man. It made your throat tighten, and your lower lip tremble.

You tried to hide your troubled state, moving your hand quickly to the curve of his neck. There, you placed a soft, butterfly-like kiss on the little places of skin that haven't been mutilated and bloodied by the leprosy. You kissed him one more time, then another, and another again..

In the end, you lost count of how many kisses you had given him, in a desperate attempt to mend your premature grief, to ground yourself in the feeling that Baldwin is there. He is alive. Yet the feeling of his skin against yours, of his chest rising up and down and his arms weakly holding your soft body, it wasn't enough to stop the tears to start flowing down your cheeks.

And that didn't go unnoticed to Baldwin, who mustered all his strength left to hold you just a little tighter. "Have my words upset you?" you sniffled, trying to recollect yourself before lifting your head to look into his eyes. "No, my dear, you could never. I just-" you stopped for a second, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed in your throat, "promise me this is the last time. Please, tell me that you will stop this nonsense. Let your trusted men handle these matters, command your man like a king not a general!" your hands had moved to his arms, a gesture to both ground yourself and to accentuate just how desperate you were in that moment, only wanting him to just listen.

"I beg of you, my love, stay here. Where you can rest. We both know that you don't have much more time left to live, so stop doing everything in your power to shorten it anymore." A sob slipped from your mouth at the last part. It truly astonished you how careless he seemed about his own condition, almost as if he forgot that any move could be the death of him.

He frowned and sighed at your words, squeezing your forearms softly before he spoke softly. This time though his tone was clearer, less weakened by the outcomes of the past days. "I already spoke to the physician about this: I have no choice, my angel. I'll be bound to my bed until a miracle will better my condition, or until death will take me."

You shut your eyes in relief, resting your forehead against his and sighing shakily, trying to recompose yourself. "I can't live in a world without you.."

"God will give us more time. I promise I won't leave you as long as I breathe on this earth. And. when my time will be over and there will be no future for us in this life, I'll be waiting for you in heaven, if I'll be granted the blessing of a place next to you there."

Not too long after, the physicians that Saladin had promised him arrived at the palace, and you were assisted as they tended to Baldwin's many wounds caused by his sickness. More than the sight of the gruesome pieces of open flesh, what appalled you was just how numb his body had become, so much so that he did not even feel their hands and tools working into his skin. It made you wonder wether or not he even felt your kisses from before.

And you make yourself that same question months later, when you place one last kiss into his forehead as he slept soundly before going to bed yourself, only to wake up to a cold body beside you. You wonder if he ever got to feel that last gesture of love before God had finally claimed him.

You only found solace in the thought that Baldwin would be resting in the realms of heaven above your head, contrary to what the Saracens believe.

A/N: Wowww this gets more fun by the day!! King Baldwin will probably always be my favorite character to write for. He’s my muse. As always ill be waiting for your feedbacks!!!

Oh and also, be prepared in the future for more fics waiting to be posted, I’ve got about ten that are just waiting for the right time to come to light, and many more will come in the future since I’m really finding it therapeutic to write.

I love how I was hesitant about writing a king Baldwin's fic because I thought it wouldn't be of interest for readers but turns out it's my most liked post yet

Omg I’m so excited you’ve decided to start requests!!!

I was wondering if you vibe with the idea of an Aang X f!reader. Where Aang kind of explores his anger? Maybe a little jealousy and rage but still a nice guy. Very much like Percy Jackson being a powerful rage guy but when relaxed he’s like a skater boy with no stress?

Aang x reader - That voice in his head

A/N: thank you so much for the support! I honestly didn't expect for one of the first requests I was gonna receive was gonna be of a fic for any character from AtLA, but I'm not surprised at all because I haven't interacted with this fandom in a long time!! I absolutely LOVE your idea and it was so fun writing it! 

Also really important, the pic I choose for this fic is from pinterest, I have no idea where it comes from, who made it, whether is a photoshop or a cosplayer,.... if you've got any information about who to crediti for the pic lemme know so that I can give credit to whoever made it!

Summary: you and Aang have been together for some time now, and all seems to be absolutely perfect. All, except for that little voice in the back of Aang’s head, one that made him think- overthink actually, and that made him act...

Warning: actions made out of jealousy, Aang acts in a way that might be considered as self destructive but it's nothing worrying don't worry. also the amount of fluff in this one might be considered to be a warning itself lmao

Word count: 2001

The day had started in the best of ways. Having all been so tired the night before, no one even noticed that you and Aang were snuggled up next to each other in front of the small bonfire, wrapped in the warmth of Appa's fur. And so the two of you were able to enjoy some well-deserved rest, in each other's arms.

Waking up had also been sweet as honey, as you had woken up first and had had all the time in the world to prepare a meagre breakfast to share with each other, before your friends and companions woke up as well. And even when they had joined you to eat a little something too, the feeling that reigned in the air was one of pure peace.

Or at least, it was until Sokka approached you, one hand on his hip and the other wielding a spear. "Hey Y/N, do you want to come with me to go fishing for something?" You smiled enthusiastically at your friend, not wasting a moment to follow him towards the body of water that lay not far from your temporary camp. You did not realise that you had left behind you a rather dumbfounded Aang, who watched you with slightly wide eyes as you walked away with your friend.

Aang… didn't understand what he was feeling. He didn't understand that strange twisting of his stomach, as if something was twisting him from the inside. He didn't understand his throat suddenly becoming dry, and his breath becoming heavy coming out of his lungs. He could not put a name to what was happening to him, yet he could put a face to it,….

Sokka.

It had all started a few weeks earlier, when after the umpteenth time he had been forced to call his friend's attention to himself, distracted by gazing into the distance, Sokka abruptly grabbed his friend Aang by the shoulder, forcing him to look him straight in the eye as he spoke to him: "If you don't take the first step with Y/N, I will." An innocent provocation, mainly aimed at spurring his friend to stop wasting time fantasising about the girl and get a move on declaring himself, although Sokka couldn't deny that if it weren't out of respect for his friend's crush, he would have already thrown his shot with you. Aang's face turned red, partly from embarrassment and partly from the growing jealousy within him. "H-hey isn't that cool, Sokka!!! I've liked her the longest, you can't just come and steal her from me like thi-" "Then you better hurry up, genius." And with that mischievous smile of his, which at such times makes you wquasi want to slap him, he turned away from Aang, heading to Katara.

It was not long after that little dialogue that Aang found the courage to declare his feelings, and he later thought he owed some of his luck to those very words Sokka said to him that day. Yet in that moment, as you saw him approach you, he brushed against your back to direct you into the right position to fish more effectively. At that moment he wondered if those words Sokka had said to him were really just a joke to tease him, if there was no ulterior motive, that of warning him that one way or another, he would try to make his move on you.

Aang's hands were clenched into such tight fists that his fingers were already leaving small cuts on his palms, but the strong emotions he was feeling at that moment prevented him from feeling anything other than the frantic throbbing of his head. With his head still clouded by this inexplicable rage, Aang turned away from the scene, marching towards a sort of circle formed by various rocks and trees.

Once he arrived in front of the first boulder, he did not even have time to take a breath to prepare himself for the earthbending, when already his right fist had moved as if by instinct, planting itself on the hard surface of the rock, leaving a groove where the impact had occurred. His fingers pulsed, his knuckles, but he felt as if he felt nothing, if anything that pulsation mixed with all the emotions he was already feeling. And in that pain, which at that moment he was not even able to metabolise, he found a further drive, which made the voice in his head even louder, more insistent. Y/N is gonna choose Sokka over me..

He threw another punch, incredibly even harder than the previous one. Small red cuts were beginning to appear on his hand, but Aang still paid no attention to them. It was as if he refused to see the reality around him, that voice in his head had taken hold of him, was isolating him in a dimension where there was nothing but him, his anger and the image of you with Sokka etched in his eyes.

Another punch followed, and another, then another. One by one, the stones arranged in that sort of circle disintegrated from the force of his blows. Aang did not really know how long it had been since he had initially gone there to vent the river that was his emotions, he only knew that the sun was about to set, and that a voice in the distance was calling his name.

It was you, worried sick about the sudden disappearance of your boyfriend.

Aang could not move a single muscle, it was as if your voice had brought him out of his trance state, and now the weight of reality was falling on him all at once. He did not have the courage to answer your call, or even to turn around to look at you properly. He looked down at his hands dripping with his own blood. With the adrenaline diminishing in his body by the second, he began to feel the searing pain of his wounds, finally realising the gravity of what he had inflicted upon himself in that state of rage.

What would you have said seeing him like that? You would certainly be disappointed seeing what he had done, and why. Who knows how worried you'd been about him, maybe you'd been looking for him for hours and he'd been selfishly on his own, voluntarily away from you, as if you were to blame for him feeling that way… even he didn't know how. Or again, you had not come there to know how he was. Maybe you had come to him to tell him that it was over between you, that you preferred Sokka after all, that while you were fishing something had clicked, that he was no longer good enough for you,….

"Good God, Aang what happened?" you run in his direction, taking his bloody hands in yours. You tried to meet his gaze, but he seemed to be working hard to avoid it. You didn't pay much attention, instead throwing your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "I was really worried about you, you know? You seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth" He didn't answer, but he felt his throat tighten and his eyes become moist. How could you miss him when you had Sokka? "Come on, let's get you fixed up, I bet your hands must hurt like crazy right now, but how did you get them like that?" You began to guide him towards your camp holding him by the arm, careful not to touch his wounds. "I… I-I was training and I think I got the hang of it a bit," he replied in a voice so light that you almost didn't recognise your Aang. There was something underneath that he didn't want to tell you, of that you were certain. But at the same time you couldn't and didn't want to force him to speak, you just wanted to be there for him.

Once you had entered one of the tents, I gestured for him to sit on the stacked blankets, while you took the necessary to take care of his cuts. Your hands worked gently on his skin, the hands you had always loved to hold in yours so much.

It took him a few minutes of tension-filled silence before Aang found the strength to open his mouth, "Sorry, Y/N, I didn't mean to worry you so much. It's just that…" he interjected, swallowing the lump in his throat, "…I don't know, I just had something on my mind" You frowned as you listened to him, intrigued and concerned by his words. You said nothing, and he took that as a signal to continue.

"See, I don't know what I was feeling before, but ever since I saw you with Sokka, in front of that lake, so close, looking like you were having so much fun,… it was like something was eating me up inside, that's it." He made to lower his gaze again, but you wasted no time in gently grabbing his chin to make him look at you. "Aang… were you jealous?" if it wasn't for his injuries and the saddened look in his eyes, you would have found it funny. I mean, how could he think you would ever choose anyone over him, the most handsome, kind, funny, strong and unexpectedly wise guy you've ever met.

He hesitated for a second, before nodding slowly and lowering his head again. His voice came out weak and shaky: "You're not angry with me?" At his words you huffed, completely incredulous at his question. "Why would I be angry about that? Aang, jealousy is something normal, you don't have to feel guilty if you feel that way."

He cocked his head before continuing to speak, "It's not just that, it's… I always take so much care to control my anger, but today… I don't know, it was like I wasn't in control of my body anymore. I was so caught up in my anger that I couldn't contain myself…" A moment of silence, he looked up again to look at you, and you noticed that his eyes were red, as if he was about to cry, "…I'm sorry, Y/N, I know I must have disappointed you-"

"Absolutely not!" you interrupted him, grabbing his forearms. Your eyes were full of concern for Aang, and your tone though stern was full of love and concern for him. "Aang, for as long as I have known you, you have never allowed yourself a moment to vent your emotions. Despite everything that has happened to you, despite the losses, the physical and emotional wounds, you have always tried to keep smiling. But that is not good for you, sweetheart, you are still just a human being and you need to let go, let out all your emotions, even the ones that scare you."

As you continued talking, Aang felt his heart tighten and his chest warm. You did not stop talking, one of your hands coming up to cup his cheek. "I understand that after everyone you have lost you are afraid of losing me too. But I can promise you, you won't get rid of me so easily, you fool." He let out a shuddering sigh and let himself slip gently into your arms. You wasted no time in wrapping your arms around him, resting your cheek against the side of his head. "Thank you baby, this- it means so much to me." After Aang's words, spoken in a soft, hushed tone, a comfortable silence fell.

You stayed like that for some time, then you spoke, chuckling softly, "Maybe next time come talk to me when you're sick before you shatter a dozen rocks and your hands" He moved his head from its place in the curve of your neck to place his lips on yours in a gentle kiss, then pulled away from you to look into your eyes, smiling apologetically, "Yeah, I think you're right."

Hi everyone, first fic ever is out now!!

Its from a character and an overall fandom I don’t know how many people know about, but I’m really passionate about it so I hope some of you will like it as well! 

I’m working on another fic right now, not giving any spoilers but it’s a request for Aang from AtLA for anyone curious hihihihi

The first fic came out a bit longer than I expected to, but it still didn’t take me as long as I imagined so I’ll probably be able to post this other in no more than another day, but I can’t make any promises.

Aaaaand there’s nothing left to say I think, I wanna remind you all once again that my requests are open for your commissions and I wish you all a good day/night (gotta be night for me cuz it’s 3AM here 😭😭😭)

Please write a fanfic about King Baldwin IV from KoH, where he fell in love with female reader. The plot is up to you. Please make it a serious love story with slight fluff 🤗🤭

Baldwin IV x reader - Life always comes down to a game of chess

A/N: You have no idea how much I love you anon, this was one of the prompts I already wanted to write omgggg!! For this fic I kinda got inspired by this painting (which, for everyone interested, it’s “La belle dame sans merci” by Frank Dicksee), and you’ll see how and why reading it;)

Summary: King Baldwin IV receives an offer from an Italian nobleman to marry his daughter; unsure of whether to accept or not this compelling offer, Baldwin decides to do what he does best…

Warning: there are some mentions of christianity and religious references along with some hints at the misogynistic ideologies of the time (about the woman being “owned” by the dominant male figure in her life) ((I don’t condone this ideology at all but I thought it’d be fitting to add it anyway to give some accuracy to it)).

Word count: 2637

King Baldwin couldn’t quite wrap his head around you. The day that he was informed of your engagement, he felt himself quite skeptical of the idea of marrying someone. After all, ever since his leprosy had been diagnosed he had to get used to the idea of living a life of solitude, forced into a lifelong chastity, for no sane man would ever marry off their daughter to a leper. With time, he had found solace in nurturing his own knowledge and virtue, elevating himself to a level of wisdom that very few could boast at his young age.

During the following days, the young king's mind was plagued with thoughts, considerations he was making to weigh the choice. The benefits of marrying Lady Y/N were many, first and foremost securing a connection to the land of Italian speakers, allowing for easier trafficking of crusaders arriving in the Holy Land, not to mention the abundance that would be the young lady's dowry. And not only did marrying her mean strengthening the economical side of his reign, but it also meant giving the impression to the public that the king's health condition was improving to such an extent that he considered that to be an ideal time to marry. His most trusted men and all of his advisors kept repeating to him, marrying Lady Y/N would’ve been  comparable to a blessing.

But despite all the benefits this union seemed like it would bring, Baldwin continued to hesitate to make a decision. What left him so undecided was the possibility that this was some kind of deception, a conspiracy orchestrated against him, hidden in the form of the most convenient of marriages. It was up to him to decide whether it was worth taking these risks in favor of the benefits that would come if his concerns turned out to be unfounded. 

Like everything else in his life, this choice came down to a game of chess…

It was this idea that prompted him to make a decision. Baldwin had a messenger called, to be sent to Pisa to give the news to Lord Y/F/N that the king wished to report his decision to him live, at his court. For the lord to arrive it would have to wait, but Baldwin has always been a man of exceptional patience.

Four months passed, when at the dawn of Lent it was announced by a Pisan messenger that Lord Y/F/N and his daughter had come to Acre, and would soon be coming to Jerusalem. Another week passed before father and daughter, riding two white horses and accompanied by an escort of knights arrived at the royal palace.

When he first saw you, Baldwin could have sworn he saw Mary himself. You walked with such grace that you almost seemed to float. Your face looked serene, despite the anxiety that had been devouring you from within ever since the day the invitation from the king of Jerusalem reached you; a blue veil covered your hair, framing your face and falling over your shoulders. You bowed to Baldwin as was proper to do before a king, yet he felt so tempted to interrupt you, prevent you from bowing to him, perhaps even bowing to you himself.

At that moment he felt like Lancelot before Guinevere, completely mesmerized by your beauty, one who seemed more fit to an angel than a woman. But, he gave no sign of his true emotional state; after all, a gorgeous woman does not mean she can be fit to serve as queen. Her answer will be decided when she has had a chance to hear you speak, away from the judgmental stares of the court, free from any influence that might change what you really think.

As the sun shone bright in the sky, the banquet took place inside of the palace. The king excused himself before going to eat by himself in his chambers as usual, leaving his guests in the company of his sisters and his court. Loud chatter filled the room, goblets were raised to get more wine poured, courses flowed onto the set table, a tribute to thank Lord Y/F/N for making such a journey to fulfill the king's request. All this noise, yet in your ears all became quiet when a servant approached your chair, whispering a few simple words, "The king has requested your presence at dinner."

Your blood froze in your veins in surprise, and you could almost feel your father's thrill as you rose from your seat, having the servant guide you toward the king's study. Walking through the halls of the palace, you could do nothing but feel so small in comparison, you almost seemed to disappear, enveloped by the magnificence of everything around you that, if all went well, you would have called your own.

You were brought back to reality when the heavy doors of the king's room were opened by the two guards who stood at his sides. An enveloping fragrance, a mixture of myrrh and frankincense filled your senses with a feeling of serenity, an almost familiar feeling. In the center of the room, a hooded figure, dressed in silk as white as snow. "Come forward, my lady. I apologize for my absence at the table but," she interjected for a moment, rising from her seat and revealing her face-or at least, what was not covered by the veil-"many might find my appearance somewhat...disturbing during a meal." He chuckled a little at that last part. You wondered if irony had become a kind of means for him to soften his own hellish condition. 

As soon as he turned around you could not help but study the appearance of what will hopefully be your future husband. Rumors about his condition had been swirling since the day he was crowned, so you had been prepared to be confronted with a horrifically disfigured man. Instead, although part of his face was covered by the thin veil, it was like an instinct for you to try to study his features. You could vaguely make out the golden hair that adorned his face, although it was covered by the veil. His voice had intrigued you; it sounded so jovial and yet so deep. A melody that sang of the young monarch's endeavors. It intrigued you, you wondered what his lips looked like, whether they matched the sound of his voice.

But what really caught your interest were his eyes. They were blue, but of a color so deep, so intense, it reminded you of tales you had heard about the northern seas, of the waters that dark and deep seemed to beckon sailors, to lead them to drown within them. Likewise you felt mesmerized by such intensity. And you wondered, how much of this would remain the same as his illness progressed.

You recovered from that momentary trance, wasting no time to bow, but this time Baldwin stopped you before you were able to bow more than your head: "Don't bow, please. Such reverences are not necessary here." You looked at him a little dumbfounded, but despite the king's unusual attitude you did not object. He stepped to the side, revealing a finely decorated chessboard, with all the pawns already set in place. "Do you play?" he asked softly, and you finally mustered up the courage to speak "It's been some time since I last did," as you approached the table, taking your seat opposite Baldwin. He took his seat again, and for the first time in your life you found yourself face to face with a king. 

You quickly realised that he had assigned you the white pawns, the small courtesy of moving you first. You took a moment to think of an initial strategy, and moved your first pawn. A horse. Baldwin raised his eyebrows, surprised by your decision. "Aren't you going to move the pawns first?" You kept your gaze on the chessboard, partly out of respect and partly out of fear, still unsure why the king would call you to his chambers, if indeed it was all just to have a playmate. "I always prefer to start with the horse. I like to think that the pawns would be frightened to charge against the enemy without a knight to guide them." You looked up, meeting his eyes that studied you intrigued. Chuckling at what you had just said, you continued, shaking your head slightly, "Forgive me, it was just a silly thought."

"Not at all, my lady," he replied, studying your every detail, "I find it fascinating." It was his turn to move, and as per rule, he moved one of the pawns, the one in front of the queen. "So you think good leadership is better than letting the individual decide for himself?" There was a spark that had lit up in his eyes, something playful. It was clear that you were intriguing him, surprisingly in your eyes, since you had been instructed to stay behind your father's shadow, not to express your thoughts or externalize your ideologies.

Everything had to be perfect, one could not risk the futile mind of a young woman ruining the marriage that would have been so beneficial to her dukedom, but above all to her family. Yet at that moment she felt that expressing what resided in her own mind was exactly what Baldwin wanted from her. Something lit up in her too, and he in turn caught the same spark in her eyes. Could it be that she had figured out the trick...? 

Another pawn moved, it was Baldwin's turn to move again. Your eyes seldom parted from each other, just for that moment necessary to make your own move. "Independence is not always what benefits a man. Certainly, it is tempting, but in moments of indecision it risks leading to oblivion. An infantryman needs a leader, a young man who is lost in the woods needs a hunter to guide him out..." Another move, the white bishop points directly at the black king "...an indecisive man needs an outside opinion to make his decision."

You smiled, and like the sweetest of plagues you infected him too. You had deciphered his little deception. An innocent deception, with the purpose of seeing with your own eyes how you, in a condition so similar to what is the duty of a sovereign, would have acted. 

After all, his life always came down to a game of chess....

"So you understood..." Baldwin whispered, again sitting in his place. For the first time in his memory, someone had managed to leave him speechless. His witty mind seemed to have died out all of a sudden, the knight in him unarmed by the woman sitting in front of him. Maybe the deception wasn’t as occult as he had planned, or maybe this young lady was really able to stand up to him.

You smiled at him proudly, be proud of your intuition but also relieved that your thought had not turned out to be foolish. Your pride had removed from your mind every rule, every admonition that had been given to you from the moment you set foot in the Holy Land; your mind was now like a river in flood, finally free to flow out according to its natural course. "I do not blame you, my lord. I realize that this is a difficult choice for you, and that the factors at stake go far beyond your individual will."

"And what do you think about that?" Your smile acquired a bittersweet scent, and you answered without almost hesitation: "I am only a woman, my will is that of my father and it will be of my husband. My family prays that this role will be filled by you, and for this to happen I have been instructed to be fit to reign at your side."

“That I can clearly see, but what truly urges me is to know what your own will says. If we were to marry, you would be the bride to a wretched man, one whose fate has already been announced by God. My demise won't be far off, you’ll be left a widow in a foreign land. And before this… curse gets the better of me, there is no saying that it won’t get to you too. If it did, you would suffer the same fate I had been given.”

It took you a moment to let his words sink into your mind. He spoke the truth, a future with him would be filled with sickness and uncertainty; you would have to live in a court far from your home, where everyone was waiting for the king’s death like a flock of crows flying above a dying man. You took a deep breath, feeling as everything came down to this very moment. “I won’t lie to you, my lord, the future that awaits me while standing by your side is not an easy one by any means, and I’m very much aware of that. I do not expect my future to be easy, for it would be an excess of greed. So if I can have a saying in my own future, I’d like to say that I would much rather all the time that is given to me by the Lord standing by the side of a man filled with virtue, than by the side of a man too full of himself to see anything just an inch away from his reflection. There would be no greater honor for me than to stand by your side, for as long as you still have to live, my lord. And if I ever was to catch this disease as well, then I would have no other words to say other than God wills it.“

At your words, the young king had to shake himself up, now more than ever necessary for him to say something, anything really. “For you, my lady, I shall always be just Baldwin.” His tone was softer than ever, a soft breeze that reached to you and whispered I am but yours now. It was unsaid, but decided. Once this meeting would be over, the king would come to your father, and confirm his decision to accept the proposal. Only problem was, this meeting seemed to have become endless. What was supposed to be a quick meal, accompanied by a game of chess, turned into a lively exchange of political views, then silly childhood anecdotes, then again into a walk in the inner courtyard of the palace. Baldwin tried hard to keep you in his presence for as long as was deemed decent for an unmarried man and woman. He kept you with him as long as he could, and when that was no longer possible, he led you back into the great hall, gently holding your hand over his. Soon after the announcement of your engagement, the wedding was set to happen during the following Easter, and the banquet made in honor of his guests was prolonged until the sun had been long set, this time in honor of his betrothed.

You think back to that day fondly, as you lay on your bed, in the comfort of silky sheets and soft pillows. One of your hands holds your head while the others traces the patterns of the scars in your husband’s face that have considerably worsened during the years. Aside from the bed, sitting on a table, forgotten as long as the night reigned over Jerusalem, were two crowns, along with two chess pawns. A white queen and a black king. Both came from the set that had been used the day the two of you met, a reminder for Baldwin of the day God had merged your destinies in one.

A/N: wowww that came out longer than I though oopss. ANYWAY, this was my interpretation of your request, anon, hope you like it!! Also, for everyone who’s gonna read this, feel free to leave any constructive criticism since this is my first fic and I would like to improve a looot more in my writing skills. That’s it now have a nice day y’all <3<3

In honour of the newest chapter of my fic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/58209523/chapters/155672245)

Sadly only a sketch this time

I´m sure you all know the reference for this pic though 😂

This is probably my favorite fic I ever wrote tbh

Another post for the Mario fandom. No Bowuigi this time, but you can have best friends Luigi and Peach instead.

My contribution (the first of many, hopefully) to Bowuigi.

My first venture back into smut in over 5 years.

Fic Name: I'll be livin' in Heaven when I'm inside of you

Your Name: @ducky1783

Rating: Explicit

Content Warnings:

Pairing: Jegulus, James Potter/Regulus Black

Prompt: 53 - Virgin Alpha James and Experienced Omega Regulus

Summary: “Has the great James Potter never knotted an Omega before?” Regulus sneers down at him, rolling his hips in a way that makes James' back arch. “What? Too busy fucking that Beta girl, Evans?”

“N-no,” James gasps, hands flexing in the sheets. “Never… never fucked anyone.”

Regulus' hips stop and it takes all James has to bite back the whimper that threatens to leave his throat.

“Are you telling me,” the Omega says, slowly. “That you’ve never had sex before, Potter?”

He pinches his eyes closed and nods, fingers flexing again into the sheets. He felt like he was going to die if Regulus didn’t start moving his hips again.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62893825/chapters/161047261 Here’s a link to the first chapter of my long fic, it’s a TFA shattered glass au :)

Bonus concept sketches I did for my Optimus design

Look at this art I made! They're from my dream.

The blond is Monte Bertie Rowntree and the brunet is Thierry Augustin De La Fontaine.

Thierry is the owner of the Golden Goose Casino and Monte is his lefthand (now right) man, but he's also the dealer (so he deals with VIP clients and possible cheaters).

I wrote their story here!

Or the wattpad version:

Wattpad

Oneshots

dreams and concepts and everything in between

TechPhee Weekend: Day 3

Title: She'll Take it

Rating: T

Summary:

TechPhee Weekend Day 3: Reunion

Phee had accepted that her daydreams about reuniting with Tech would go unfulfilled. Well, maybe not completely unfulfilled. Just a little different.

HERE WE ARE. HERE IT IS. ALMOST THREE WEEKS AFTER.

It’s a bit shorter, but I think it’s sweet.

Day 3: Reunion

Phee had daydreamed about how her reunion with Tech would go. If she was realistic, she’d probably have to chase him down. But it was nice to imagine that he’d come looking for her. Sometimes he’d be unhurt, sometimes he’d have an arm in a sling.

Phee would be casual, saying something like “There you are, Brown Eyes.”

Even in her fantasies he was awkward. “Yes.” He’d say. “I have returned.”

Then he’d give her one of his tiny smiles, smiles she’d learned were as precious as kyber.

“You gonna tell me where you went?” She’d ask.

He would cock his head.

“Of course.”

He would sit next to her, and give her a practical recounting of the mission. She’d enjoy it anyway.

She’d take his hand when he was done. He’d probably stare at their hands, confused.

“I’m glad you’re back, Brown Eyes.” 

He’d look up, focusing on her with his gorgeous gaze.

“As am I.” 

Sometimes she’d kiss him, sometimes they’d just sit and hold hands. But they were happy.

Then she’d gotten the news. Wrecker, tears in his eyes and voice rough, had told her. Cid, a traitor. Omega, captured. Tech-

Oh, Tech.

The reunion would never happen. The months passed, Phee’s time split between her own work and the dogged search for Omega. Then the brilliant girl got herself out. But before Phee could come see her, she was gone again. Sacrificed herself, just like he had. Phee had helped Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair as best she could. She’d given them the best chance to find their kid again.

Phee would forever regret taking a job after helping them. She had figured that she couldn’t help them and there was no way she could just sit around and wait. 

But that meant she was halfway across the galaxy when she got the comm from Hunter.

“We’re on our way back. Couple hours out.” He’d told her. “Omega’s safe. But-”

Phee had caught her breath. Had Wrecker-

“We- found something. Someone.” Hunter had gone on. “He was one of them, but- after I-”

Phee had never heard Hunter sound so lost or shaky. When Omega had been taken the first time, he’d been dark and angry. The second, he had been determined and focused. Nothing like this.

“Start from the beginning.” She’d said, heart pounding. 

So she listened, horrified, as Hunter described a dark monster, cruel and vitriolic. It had taken Crosshair’s hand, been the one to burn Pabu, and had tried very hard to keep Omega from them. Hunter had hurled an electrospear through its chest. 

And then- and then, after Hemlock was dead, as they passed the body, it had called their names. Not even to get their attention, it had seemed. Just a reaction to seeing them. Against his better judgement, Hunter had approached. Taken its helmet off.

It had been Tech.

Hunter had paused there, waiting for Phee’s response.

“Is he still alive?” She had managed to demand.

“Yes.”

Phee had clapped a hand to her mouth, torn between sobbing and throwing up. 

“He survived thanks to the cybernetics they’d given him. But- he’s acting more like himself now. Something- something to do with his injury.”

Silence for a moment, and then- “He’s asked for you.”

Phee’s breath had caught and her chest had ached.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She had whispered. “Thank you.”

She’d switched her comm off and then cried. She didn’t even really know why. Too many thoughts flooded her: he’s alive, he’s a monster, he was taken by them, he’s home.

Strangely, the thought that broke out of the haze was that she wouldn’t be there when he returned to Pabu.

Now she sent a message to her employer that explained that something had come up. If she tried to do anything now, she’d get herself killed. And then she set her course for home.

The following few days were agony. She paced, tried and failed to distract herself, and occasionally cried her heart out. MEL tried to comfort her, but Phee didn’t think she could settle until she saw Tech with her own eyes. Hunter contacted her every few hours, which was kind, but it wasn’t enough.

It was the middle of the night when she finally touched down in front of the Archium. To her surprise, Wrecker was waiting for her under the weeping maya. He looked exhausted when he came to greet her, but he still gave her a tight hug.

“Good to have you back, Phee.” He rumbled. “Come on, he’ll want to see you.”

Phee hesitated. 

“I don’t want to bug him-” She started.

Wrecker gave a weak chuckle. He seemed so subdued.

“Nah, he’s been getting plenty of rest.” He said. “He specifically said to wake him up when you got here.”

“How is he, Wrecker?” Phee asked as they walked. “How is he really?”

Wrecker’s shoulders slumped.

“I dunno, Phee.” He said. “He’s hurt bad. He feels terrible ‘bout what he did; he can barely even look at Cross. But he’s here.”

Phee nodded. She didn’t know what to say. She felt she was still in a bit of shock.

They made their way to the small clinic that was Pabu’s closest thing to a medcenter. 

“Where are you all staying?” Phee asked, realizing with a jolt that their ship, their home, was gone.

“Omega’s staying with Lyana and Shep.” Wrecker said. “Us- well, we had to stay here for a day or two, and we’ve slept in worse places than the chairs they got.”

“Nope.” Phee said. “I get having someone with Tech, but I’m not having you boys sleep on chairs after all you’ve been through. I’ve got a couch back at my place, and I can sleep on my ship so my bed will be free.”

Wrecker paused at the door to the clinic, looking back at her.

“Thanks, Phee.” He said in a thick voice. “It’s- it’s been a rough coupla days.”

Phee patted him on the arm and he smiled.

The clinic's lights were dimmed, but one of the island’s two nurses, a middle aged Devaronian man who smiled at them when they came in, was sitting at the front desk. Phee noted that Crosshair was curled on one of the chairs, face buried in his arms. She also noticed the bandaged nub at the end of his right arm. 

“Hey, Raiz.” She said,  making herself not stare. “You’re here late.”

Raiz shrugged. “Got a lot of patients right now.” He said. “Your Tech’s in room three.”

Her Tech.

Phee moved as if in a dream. She didn’t quite remember getting to the door. It opened at her touch. Hunter’s back blocked her view of the bed. He looked back at her and gave a vague, tired smile. He got up and slipped out of the room.

Leaving Phee alone with Tech.

He was asleep, like she expected. He had deep shadows under his eyes, reminding her of Echo. His chest was wrapped in bacta, cybernetics glinted from his arms and sides, and he’d lost weight. His face was streaked with unfamiliar scars.

It didn’t seem like him. It was just a husk with his face.

Phee took a trembling step to his bedside. She reached out an equally shaking hand to touch his shoulder.

His eyes opened. He focused on her after a moment of confusion.

Phee let out a breath.

“There you are, Browneyes.”

“Phee.” He croaked. 

His voice was weak, trembling. She'd never heard it like this.

“I'm here.” Phee said. 

She slipped her hand against his. She didn’t know what to say. She held back from holding him, which she desperately wanted to do. 

“I-” He whispered. Phee leaned closer. “I did not run off with any pirates or smugglers.” 

It was then that Phee noticed that his pupils were blown wide, a clear sign that he was drugged to high heaven. A laugh she couldn't help burst from Phee. Tech's brow furrowed. 

“You were concerned I would.” He said. “During our last conversation, you specifically told me not to do so.”

Phee felt tears fill her eyes even as she smiled. 

“I did.” She said. She leaned forward, brushing her forehead against his and running her hand through his hair. “Thank you.”

To her surprise, he hesitantly pressed his forehead forward to meet hers. They stayed like that for a moment. 

“I- must tell you something.” He finally said. His breathing changed, becoming ragged. “Phee- I was the one to invade Pabu.”

Phee took his hand.

“I know.”

“I do not think you understand, as you are still being affectionate.” His voice was strained. “I ordered the burning of Pabu, the destruction of-”

“I know.” Phee said. 

She stopped stroking his head and instead pulled him closer.

“Then why are you still holding me?” He asked. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Phee asked. 

“No.” He was quick to reply. “But you should be disgusted and horrified by what I have done.”

Phee's heart broke at his tone of voice. It was clear to see that he was the one disgusted and horrified. 

“I am.” Phee said. “But by what the Empire has done, what they did to you.”

He was quiet, stiff in her arms.

“I do not deserve this.”

Phee pulled him closer.

“I don’t really care if you do or not.”

Tech began to shake and he turned his head to press into Phee’s shoulder. She felt warm tears soak into her shirt, though Tech made no noise. She rocked him back and forth.

“It’s all right.” She murmured. “You’re safe. You’re home. We’re here.”

Not quite the reunion she had dreamed of, but she would take it.

Honestly, not much to say here. Pretty straightforward. I did try a little bit of a different writing style thanks to a fantastic book I read recently. 

But I did it! I did the weekend, if not a little late. I’m looking forward to the next TechPhee event!

Thanks for reading!

TechPhee Weekend: Day 2

(almost 2 weeks after the actual event)

Title: Where Your Treasure Is, There Your Heart Will Be Also

Rating: T

Summary:

TechPhee Weekend Day 2: Treasure

A year after the fall of Tantiss, Tech is recovering well from his time as CX-2. The more he feels like himself, the more he is ready for a taste of freedom. Phee, with one of her treasure hunts, seems just the opportunity he needs. And if the mission gives him time more time to spend with her alone, all the better.

And here is the TechPhee Weekend Day 2!

1.5 weeks after it was supposed to be done…

Oh well, the flu and just life in general got in the way. I do like to think this one was worth the wait. I started out with a basic plot idea…and it kinda devolved into fluff.

This takes place in the same timeline as the first day: Tech was CX-2 and was saved during the fall of Tantiss. I wanted some more normal Tech, so it’s been a while and he’s recovered a fair amount. 

Anyway, let’s get going!

DAY 2: Treasure

For the first Galactic year after Tech had come home with his family, he had been content to stay on Pabu. He had needed peace to heal and to forgive himself. But the anniversary of the destruction of Tantiss had come and gone, and he found himself growing increasingly agitated with the sedate lifestyle.

As a result, when Phee asked him to accompany her on a short retrieval mission, or ‘treasure hunt’ as she liked to call it, he was eager to accept.

His brothers were not.

“Are you insane?” Crosshair spat. “We finally have a safe place, no one’s looking for us, and you want to galavant off to who knows here on one of Genoa’s laser brained schemes?”

Tech frowned. He felt rather like he was standing before a tribunal rather than in front of his brothers in their modest home’s living room. At least Omega was in bed and was not adding to the conflict. 

“Phee’s plans are well thought out and prepared for.” He said tersely. “You did not experience Cid’s missions. Phee is far more competent and trustworthy.”

Wrecker chuckled at that.

“Gotta point there.”

“I wouldn’t be comfortable sending you if it was a plan by Rex and Echo.” Hunter said. “Tech, we don’t need to risk ourselves anymore. And let’s be honest, you’re not at your best.”

“I am well enough to go to an uninhabited planet.” Tech said. “To explore the ruins of a village.”

“I don’t like it.” Crosshair said, folding his arms.

“Neither do I.” Hunter said.

“Unfortunate.” Tech said. “I was not asking for permission. I was merely giving you the courtesy of informing you of my plans.” 

Crosshair’s expression immediately darkened. 

“Fine.” He snapped. “Go risk your life, I don’t care. But you get to tell Omega what you’re doing.”

Tech quietly thought that Omega may be the most accepting of the plan. But a part of him did twinge with guilt as Crosshair got up and stalked from the room. Silence followed.

“Tech.” Hunter said finally. “I guess we can’t stop you. But I need to know you’ve thought this through. You’re okay here- but what if you run into the Empire? We don’t know how you’ll react.”

“The planet is uninhabited.” Tech repeated.

“Daro was supposed to be too.” Hunter said.

Tech tightened his lips to a line. As much as he disliked it, Hunter was correct. The Empire had a habit of appearing where it was not expected. And he could not guarantee that he would remain calm when faced with them.

“If we find an Imperial presence, we will retreat.” He found himself saying. 

Hunter frowned, as if he did not believe Tech.

“I could come with ya, too.” Wrecker piped up.

Tech paused, considering. It would likely assuage Hunter’s worry, but Tech found that he wanted to go with Phee alone. It was likely due to their mutual attraction and budding relationship.

“While appreciated, it is not necessary. Either the mission will be as we expect, without danger, or we will retreat.” Tech said.

Wrecker’s brow furrowed, but he shrugged.

“I guess you’re going.” Hunter said. Tech could tell that he was still displeased. “But don’t expect help getting Crosshair to talk to you again.”

He got up and followed Crosshair. Wrecker just shrugged before retreating as well. Tech sighed. His brothers were not happy. But it would be well worth it to leave the planet, if only for a short while. 

As Tech expected, Omega took it well the next morning, telling him to be safe. Perhaps her hug lingered longer than normal, but she seemed in relatively high spirits when he left. 

Phee was waiting for him at her ship. Her face lit up into a smile when she saw him and Tech could not resist smiling back. 

“How’d they take it?” She asked, turning to board the Providence.

Tech grimaced. 

“They were- resistant. I had to inform them that I was not asking permission.”

“Ooh.” Phee said with a wince. “I bet Crosshair wasn’t happy.”

“He was not.”

“Well,” Phee said, taking the pilot’s seat. “Hopefully this will go well, we'll grab our treasure, and they can get a little used to the idea of you leaving every once in a while.”

Tech sat down in the copilot’s chair, which still felt a little odd to him. 

“I did tell them that if we ran into the Empire, we would retreat.” He told her as she started the ship.

“Probably a good idea.” Phee admitted. She paused, hands hovering over the controls before turning to him. “Is this a good idea, Browneyes?”

Tech blinked at her. 

“This was your plan.” He reminded her. 

“I know, but-” Phee trailed off, but reached out to take his hands. She ran her thumb over the knotted scars on the back of one, brushing the thin cybernetics implanted there. “We can't lose you again.”

Tech squeezed her hands.

“We will be cautious.” He said. “I trust your intel and I trust you. I would very much like to go on this mission with you.”

Phee gave him a crooked smile. 

“You're such a charmer when you want to be, Browneyes.” 

“I was merely being sincere.” Tech said. 

“And you know what that does to me.” 

Phee turned back to the controls and guided the ship into the sky. 

“It'll be a couple of hours.” She said once they were in hyperspace. “How do you want to pass the time?”

“You have not told me about the artifact we are seeking.” Tech said.

Phee grinned at him.

“Well, we might as well get comfortable.” She said, getting up.

Tech followed her to her bunk. Hers was far more pleasant than the Batch’s had been on the Marauder. Phee grabbed her datapad and plopped down on the edge of the bunk. She patted the spot next to her. Tech sat and hesitantly brushed his shoulder against hers. She, in return, leaned fully against him. He ended up with an arm around her waist, her head on his shoulder.

It was- nice.

“For once we’re looking at something worth a fair bit of cash.” Phee said, pulling up a sketch of a crystalline figurine. “Depiction of a goddess of wind, Sylphrena. It’s carved from wind-crystal, which is why it’s worth so much.”

“And how did you discover its location?” Tech asked. 

“I’ve got a friend who doesn’t like the ‘hands on’ part of collecting artifacts.” Phee said. “He contacted me with the details.”

Tech glanced at her.

“You trust him not to send competing ‘liberators?’” He asked.

“Yeah, Luthen’s good at not setting up races.” Phee said. “And he pays well.”

Tech nodded. Phee took jobs like these occasionally to keep her other operations funded.

He relaxed slowly as Phee explained the history and mythology behind the figurine. They did this often on Pabu, but it was even more pleasant here in the quiet of hyperspace.

The hours passed quickly and soon the ship’s console beeped. Phee sighed as if annoyed.

“Time to get ready, huh?” She said.

As she went to guide them down to the planet, Tech kitted up. He had wanted to dispose of his CX armor, but Echo had insisted that it would be better to keep and repurpose it. He had been correct. The armor was near unrecognizable now due to Tech and Echo’s work, but he sometimes still had a hard time looking at it.

He joined Phee in the cockpit and surveyed the jungle landscape. Most of it was shrouded by a layer of clouds. Kaladin IV was known for its rain. 

“There are not many landing areas.” Tech commented.

“Nope.” Phee said. “I’m thinking the ruins will be overgrown too. But lucky for us, the site is near some mountains. Might be easier to find a place there.”

Tech nodded and found what he assumed to be the mountains in question on the horizon. They quickly approached the range: great stone wedges devoid of the green below.

“There we are.” Phee said, pointing.

Tech raised an eyebrow at the small ledge she indicated. Possible, yes, but difficult.

“Would you like me to-”

Phee cut him off by sending the ship into a sharp dive. With a smooth jerk, she twisted the ship and settled it neatly on the surface. The ship did not even shift as she turned the engines off.

Tech stared at Phee. Had he ever flown with her as the pilot before? How had he not known how exceptional she was? He knew that he was attracted to her, but he felt that her beauty was more apparent at this moment.

“Hey, you okay?” Phee asked.

Tech blinked.

“I am fine.” He told her.

Her brow was furrowed.

“You were staring.”

Oh. 

“I am well.” He assured her. “It was not like before.”

She nodded slowly, but she watched him as she got up and grabbed her vibroblade and blaster.

“I was not having a flashback episode.” He told her. “I was merely- appreciating your talents.”

She raised an eyebrow, but to his relief, she smiled.

“You charmer.” 

Tech shrugged.

“I was unaware of your flying skills.”

“You always insisted on taking the controls before.” Phee said. She made her way to the ramp. “And I didn’t want to deal with any man pride you had.”

“Man pride?” Tech asked. 

“A lot of men, in my experience, don’t react well when you’re as good- or even almost as good, as they are in certain areas.” 

Tech frowned. 

“I do not think I would react poorly.” He said.

The rain pattered on his helmet as he followed her.

“Well obviously now I know that.” Phee said. “But at the time, I didn’t know you as well. This way.”

The trek down the mountain was more straining than Tech would like to admit. He had still not returned to the physical prowess he had had in the past. He did not know if he ever would.

Phee, observant as ever, proffered him her arm about halfway down. Tech took it. He was long past the point of pride.

“Sorry.” She said. “I should have realized we would have had to climb down.”

“It is my own fault for not considering it.” Tech replied. “I will manage.”

And he did, if not slightly out of breath and slower than he would have liked. The rain fell on his helmet less frequently as they moved into the verdant cover of the jungle. Tech winced at the swishing of wet ferns as they moved forward. Too much sound. But there should not be any enemies here. Kaladin IV was abandoned. 

Which was why, after thirty minutes of hiking, Tech froze at the sound of voices not their own. Phee stopped as he did, cocking her head and listening. Tech signalled the direction the voices were coming from and quickly began a scan on his datapad. 

Several lifeforms, specifically eleven, within a klick. Most were in the same area. He showed Phee the datapad and she grimaced. Tech nodded. The coordinates the intruders were at were likely the village.

Tech signalled again and they backed away, until the voices faded to nothing.

“I guess there goes that paycheck.” Phee muttered.

“We have no indication that they are the Empire yet.” Tech pointed out. “I doubt they will be friendly, but I only promised to retreat if we ran into Imperial forces.”

Phee sighed and rolled her eyes.

“You and your semantics.” She mumbled. “Tech, part of the problem is that we don’t know how you’ll react to combat situations.”

“You have expressed fondness for my interpretation of definitions and the like in the past.” Tech said. “And I am a trained soldier, genetically designed to be resistant to PTSD that would affect my performance in battle.”

“I know, but-” Phee shook her head. “I’m going to scout. If I see that stupid cog, we’re leaving.”

“Agreed.” Tech said.

Normally he would have volunteered, but she was likely the better choice. He could not guarantee his ability to be stealthy. She gave him a lazy salute before forging back into the brush.

He watched her go. He trusted Phee in all things and her skills were not near the bottom of that list. Still, he could not help but worry. His anxieties had risen significantly since his return to them. He could not prevent the images of Phee being caught and mercilessly slaughtered from coming to his mind. Or worse, her being captured and being given to Hemlock- 

No. He thought forcefully. Hemlock was dead. Even if he wasn’t, the Empire had no reason to take Phee to their scientists. 

He still found himself inching closer, straining his ears for any sound. 

This anxiety was not what he had been anticipating for his escape from Pabu. He had imagined freedom and relief. He was feeling quite the opposite.

After fifteen long minutes, he clicked his comm on. It stuttered with static and his heart rate rose to meet it. Why would these individuals block comms if they did not suspect enemies? Or worse, had captured an enemy and now were keeping watch for her allies?

Tech plunged into the brush. He slowed after a moment and forced a deep breath. He could not run down there, blasters blazing. He was outnumbered. Perhaps once there was a time where he could defeat eleven enemies, but that time was past. 

He kept low in the ferns, thankful for the wind that made them wave and the rain pounding the leaves overhead. He finally picked up voices. As he came close enough to make them out, he realized they were speaking Pyke. 

Not the Empire. Part of his fear melted away. Still, the Pykes were a formidable and often cruel faction. 

He sorely missed his old helmet. He didn’t know much of the Pyke language and while his datapad could translate, it would not be advisable to just stand there and read what they were saying, even if his datapad could clearly record their voices from this distance. He needed to keep moving.

They laughed, a harsh sound, and a shiver ran down Tech’s spine. Were they rejoicing in the fact that they now had a captive to torture? That thought caused him to hurry faster. 

Soon he could see two guards, chatting to each other as they peered into the jungle. He glanced down at his datapad, but it seemed they were discussing their next job after this one. Tech pulled out a thermal detonator and connected it to his datapad. He gauged the distance and when the wind rippled through the ferns again, he rolled it along the ground. He let out a breath as it came to a rest not far from the Pykes’ feet, but still out of sight. 

He crept away. If the Pykes were competent, they would have formed a perimeter. If Tech could find each pair and set up a thermal for each, he would be able to eliminate all of them in one fell swoop. 

He found the next set of guards easily. They seemed more alert than the last pair, silent as they searched the jungle. It was much more difficult to get close enough to roll the grenade. Tech brought the thermal out and then paused as both guards straightened as a comm chirped. As usual, they had a free frequency unaffected by the blocking device. Tech quickly engaged his datapad as one responded to their comm.

The words ran across the datapad screen as their ally spoke: We’ve found the figurine. It’s undamaged.

Finally. Where did it end up being?

In the largest building.

Tech raised an eyebrow. They were speaking as if in a casual conversation with a friend, rather than giving a report. He was so used to dealing with militaries, he had forgotten than some were not as well trained as he and his brothers.

We searched that one three times.

I know, it was-

A blaster shot shattered the air. The Pykes jerked their heads around, searching. Tech’s breath caught, and he took an involuntary step forward. A branch cracked under his foot.

The Pykes stopped their frantic hunt and turned to look straight at him.

Old instincts moved him. With one hand he hurled his thermal towards the Pykes. With the other, delayed a few seconds, he detonated both this one and the original left by the first set of guards.

The explosion threw him backward. He saw a flash of red and orange, heard screams of pain, and then something hit his head, and he knew no more.

“Tech!”

Tech groaned at the noise. He tried to open his eyes, but when he did, the light made his head throb. 

“Tech!” 

He knew that voice. He tried to speak, but he could only cough. He then tried to move, which went just as well due to his heavy, aching limbs. He couldn’t quite feel his legs. 

“Tech!” 

The tone in the voice made him force himself to speak.

“Phee?” He croaked.

Footsteps thudded nearby and then someone jerked his helmet off. He blinked his eyes open to get a flash of her worried face, but once again, the light hurt. He felt her feel at his body, searching for breaks or injuries.

“Possible concussion.” He managed to tell her. “And- possible damage to cybernetics.”

He was very confused when he felt her lips press to his face. Then again. And again.

“What happened?” She asked between the quick kisses. “I was on my way back- they’d blocked the comms and cut off my escape route. I just had to distract them. I was coming.”

“I-” Tech tried to speak. It was very distracting to have her caress his face with her hands while all the while pressing kisses to every part of it. “I was concerned for your safety.”

Phee let out a breathless laugh.

“So you got yourself blown up?” She asked. “Kriff- When I heard the explosion and you weren’t answering, I thought-”

She took a deep, shuddering breath before kissing his forehead. 

“We’ve got to get you back to the ship.”

“The Pykes-” Tech said.

“I took care of them. Do you think I’d be kissing you silly if we still had hostiles around?” She asked.

Tech shrugged.

“Perhaps.”

Phee laughed again.

“Come on, Browneyes.”

“The figurine-”

“Nuh uh.” Phee said. “We don’t have time for me to search the whole village. They called for backup before I finished them off.”

Tech frowned.

“But-”

“No buts.” Phee said. She rested her forehead against his. “I’m not risking you again, not for any treasure.”

Tech’s hazy mind took pleasure in her closeness, but he needed to let her know.

“I know where it is.” He said.

Phee froze in the act of trying to get him to his feet.

“Why didn’t you lead with that?” 

Tech tapped vaguely at his head.

“Possible concussion.” He reminded her. “They said- the largest house. If you go now, you can retrieve the figurine before more Pykes arrive.”

Phee didn’t say anything for quite some time. Then he felt her lips on his.

“I’ll be right back.” 

A few hours later, Tech lay on the bunk on Phee's ship as she jumped them to hyperspace. He glanced to the side to the shadowed figurine. He was glad they had been able to retrieve it, though he couldn’t quite remember how they had.

Phee came back into the darkened hold a few moments later. 

“Hey.” She said, sitting by the bunk. “How are you feeling?”

“As well as can be expected.” Tech said. 

His head throbbed and his stomach churned, but the symptoms would likely fade now that they were no longer dodging enemy fire.

He saw the glint of her teeth in the low light as she smiled. 

“Sorry about the crazy flying.” She said. “The Pyke ships showed up right as I broke atmosphere.”

“I like your flying.” Tech said. “I find it very attractive.”

He had not meant to say that aloud. Phee stared at him and then grinned broadly.

“Oh yeah?” She said, leaning against the bunk frame.

“Yes.” Tech said. “I must add it to the list of appealing traits you possess.” He had not meant to say that either. Phee glanced at his datapad, placed out of reach lest he be tempted to use it.

“You actually have that list, don’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

Phee smiled again and ran her hand through his hair.

“You going to let me take a peek one day?” She asked.

“I will give you an answer when I am not concussed.” Tech’s head gave a particularly strong throb and he winced. “While I am glad that we retrieved the artifact, I do not believe this was conducive for my health: mental or physical.”

Phee chuckled, but it turned into a sigh.

“Your brothers are going to kill me when we get back.” She said. “And they’ll be right to. We shouldn’t have done this.” 

“I was the one to insist on coming.” Tech said. “Perhaps we were foolhardy, but we survived and we retrieved the target. The mission was a success.”

He paused.

“Though I am not eager to experience Crosshair’s ire when we return.”

“You’re not looking forward to it?” Phee asked. She continued stroking his head. “You’ve got a concussion. He won’t be able to yell at you. I’m free game.”

“Then stay close to me.” Tech said. “He will not be able to lecture you if I am in close proximity.”

Phee pressed a kiss to his head.

“I was planning on that anyway, Browneyes.” She murmured. “Gotta make sure my treasure ends up somewhere safe.” 

Confused, Tech looked at the blue-white figurine strapped to one of the crash chairs.

“It will be safe in the Archium until you can deliver it.” He said.

“Not that treasure.” Phee said. “I don't plan on ever giving this one up again.”

It took his hazy mind a moment to interpret what she meant. But when it clicked, he hesitantly took her hand and pressed it to his cheek. 

“And I do not plan on leaving again.” He said.

Phee let out a long sigh as she laid her head next to his. 

“That a promise, Browneyes?” 

Tech thought of Pabu, of his brothers and sister, of Phee, of home.

“It is.”

I can imagine that Tech would get bored after a while. And even in this case, I don’t know if he’s bored exactly. It’s more like after being CX-2 and having no freedom, he needs to be able to make a few choices in his life. 

Crosshair does not like this idea.

Wrecker: I could come with you on your date!

Tech: please do not

Phee and Tech are very much aware of their feelings for each other at this point and are, in Tech’s case especially, learning how to let themselves act on it. They haven’t used the word couple yet, but yeah, they’re a couple. Just a budding relationship.

If you’ve read my other fic, Across the Stars, you might recognize Kaladin IV as the planet Gek lives on. He may or may not still be running around the planet. Several Imperial patrols looking for Jedi have certainly disappeared. And of course, it’s a reference to one of my favorite book series, and the figurine they find is an expansion of that.

I grieve every day that Tech did not witness the insane stunt Phee pulls in season 3. He would ONE HUNDRED PERCENT think it was super hot that she can fly like that. I feel like Phee has dealt with her fair share of toxic masculinity and is kind of over it. Luckily, Tech is not that.

…can you guess that I got a little impatient and just wanted to get to the scene where Phee finds Tech? I just had the image of her just kissing him over and over out of relief and I got excited lol. 

Frick the Pykes. They deserve to get blown up.

And then it devolves into fluff. Oh well. I liked writing it. 

My idea for the next day is much shorter and will hopefully only take a few days.

Stay safe, remember to review, and have a great day!

TechPhee Valentine's Weekend - Day 1

Not Beyond Repair

Rating: T

Summary:

TechPhee Weekend Day 1: And if you have a minute, why don’t we go talk about it somewhere only we know?

There's a room in the Archium not many know about, a place to repair the ancient wonders Phee liberates. Tech is fond of it: for the work, the company, and the help he himself receives.

For @techpheeweek

ANs: Hello! This takes place in an AU where Tech is CX-2 and he was recovered after Hemlock dies in Canon, though I suppose a good part of it takes place BEFORE that happens.

One Week After Arriving on Pabu

“Got a minute, Browneyes?” 

Tech looked up from his datapad. He sat in the shadow of the Marauder, where Phee had joined him. The self proclaimed liberator gave him a smile as she leaned against the ship.

“Do you truly mean a minute, or do you need my assistance for longer?” Tech asked.

Phee laughed.

“You got me there.” She said. “I’m thinking an hour, maybe?”

Tech nodded. 

“I can spare the time.” He said.

He got up and dusted his legs off. He was wearing his armor less and less as their time on Pabu continued.

“What can I assist you with?” He asked Phee.

“Just wondering if you could fix something.” She said. “Gotta get to the Archium, though.”

“Very well.” Tech said.

He followed her through the bright sunlight to the beginning of the many, many sets of stairs on Pabu. 

“Here.”

Tech blinked as Phee tossed him a Jogan fruit. She winked.

“I heard your stomach rumble loud as a hyperdrive.” She said. It had? Tech had not noticed. “You like Jogan, right?”

He did. A far more pleasant breakfast than a ration bar. They climbed together in silence for a while. It was broken occasionally by islanders calling greetings to Phee and occasionally to Tech. Despite the sun, the temperature was temperate, and many of the inhabitants were out enjoying the fine weather.

“Where’s the rest of your squad?” Phee asked as they reached the bottom of the wall that separated Upper and Lower Pabu. “Didn’t see them on the way up.”

“Lyana took Omega to explore the shore, Hunter is watching them, and Wrecker is continuing his fishing lessons.” Tech listed off.

“Leaving you to just waste away, huh?”

“Hardly. I know how to keep myself occupied.” Tech looked up at the long way still ahead of them. “And the climb to the Archium will certainly do so.”

Phee glanced at him and grinned.

“We could take your shortcut.”

Tech paused, thinking of when he had grabbed Phee and grappled to a higher level. He thought of that incident often, though he was unsure why.

“It would be unnecessary.” He decided. “We are not racing against a sea surge.”

“Well then, we’ll just have to endure the stairs.” Phee said. She looked at him, watching him eat the last piece of Jogan. She waited for him to swallow. “Race you.”

“What-”

Phee began sprinting up the steps. After a brief moment of surprise, Tech found himself rushing after her. Wrecker and Crosshair tended to be the most competitive of their squad, but Tech had been known to be tempted by challenges.

Despite her head start, Tech slowly closed her lead. She glanced behind her and eyes widened.

“Not- fair!” She puffed as he passed her.

He kept a comfortable distance between them, though his legs and lungs began to burn with each footfall. He was in exceptional shape, but prolonged step climbing was a challenge. This was certainly the case as the stairs became increasingly steep the further they climbed. He was surprised with how well Phee kept up.

And was even more surprised when she surged forward and past him on the last set of steps. She reached the top mere seconds before he did, turning and grinning with hands on hips.

“I win.” She said.

“You were holding back.” Tech said as he joined her.

“Nah, more like I got a second wind.” Phee said, her breathing labored. “Though I was enjoying the view.”

Tech blinked.

“Of my back?” 

“A little lower, but yeah.”

It took Tech a moment to parse her meaning, forgetting for a moment that backsides could be considered attractive, but he felt his face heat when he did.

“Oh.” He said.

Phee laughed.

“Sorry, Browneyes.” Though I might call you Longlegs now; you’ve got quite the stride.”

Tech decided she was teasing due to the wink she gave him. He nearly had told her that he preferred Browneyes.

“Was there a reason for that display?” He asked, following her across the courtyard.

“Fun.” Phee said. “I’ve decided you boys, not to mention Omega, have not had enough in your life.”

“We have had fun.” Tech protested, thinking of Wrecker’s shouts of joy when scrapping droids.

“Fun that doesn’t have anything to do with fighting.” Phee said.

“I enjoy flying.” Tech pointed out.

“Yeah, but you fly like you’ve constantly got bogies on your tail. This way.”

She did not take him to the main entrance as he expected. Instead, she veered to a nook on the side of the Archium. 

“This place isn’t only for displaying artifacts.” She said, opening a door that was nearly camouflaged against the wall. “It’s meant for repairing them too.”

The room inside was lit with a low, soothing light. While not small, much of the space was occupied by stone shelves or what looked like work tables. The shelves were filled with artifacts. Some were obviously damaged, which led him to conclude that they were all in need of repair. The wall that was not festooned with shelves was hung with ancient looking tools.

Tech sneezed as Phee kicked up dust by moving into the room.

“Sorry.” She said. “Not many people know about this room, and I don’t come as often as I used to.”

She traced her finger through the dust on a near work table.

“Shep’s wife, Jora, used to come work here all the time.” She said. “When she passed- I got a little too sad to visit. By the time I felt like coming back, I’d dumped so many things in here that I didn’t know where to start.”

Tech identified where he would start: an interesting orb that seemed to him that it was supposed to open. Phee took a breath and turned back to Tech.

“Anyway, I picked something up on my last trip for one of our new refugees.” She said. “But it’s not working and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. Mind taking a look for me?”

She gestured to a complex object made up of bronze gears lying on the table. Tech stepped to it and studied the contraption.

“A music box.” He decided.

“Yeah, that’s what he said. I promised him I’d get it going. He’s been having a hard transition.”

Tech took a seat. He found the head of a lamp and turned it on.

“I will see what I can do.” He said. “Which, I imagine, is repairing it.”

Phee laughed. Tech was finding he liked it when she did.

“Thanks, Browneyes.” She scooted a seat close to his. “Wanna hear how I got it?”

He did.

Two days before the mission to Tantiss

Tech hurried towards the Archium’s workshop. He was late; Phee would have been waiting for him and he had failed to inform her of his delay.

“There you are.” Her familiar voice said as he entered. Though, he felt her voice was becoming something more than familiar. “I thought you left an hour ago.”

“I was briefly tasked with a more urgent project.” Tech reported.

Phee, sitting at their normal work table, grinned at him.

“One of the kids needed a toy fixed, huh?”

Tech adjusted his goggles.

“Well, yes.”

His skill with repairs had spread around the island, and a young boy had approached him on his way to the Archium. It had been a simple, but time consuming fix. He had had to take apart the boy’s battered toy speeder to get at the power source. 

“You’re almost as popular as Wrecker now.” Phee said. “Well, sit down, let’s get going!”

She seemed excited, so Tech sat next to her. Lying on the stone surface was a tiny bird. It seemed to be made of segmented porcelain painted with tones of orange and violet. 

“It’s from my home planet.” Phee said.

Tech looked to her, surprised. She had told him that it was nearly impossible to find artifacts from her homeworld and she had not yet done so. He picked it up and examined its glossy surface. 

“I assume you will tell me about it in detail.” He said. 

“Only if you want to hear.”

“I do.”

Tech gently prised a panel off, exposing the mechanical insides. 

“It's based off of a pendulum lark.” Phee said, leaning in to watch his work. “It's said that no one needs a clock on my planet because the larks sing every hour, on the hour.”

“Fascinating.” Tech said. He finished removing the shell and began the careful dismantling of the device. “I assume they do this even with seasonal changes.”

“Yup.” Phee was excited; even Tech could tell. “My planet has eight moons and the larks could tell the time by their movements. When my people started leaving the planet, they recorded the lark and started building these as time keepers.”

Tech nodded, examining the tiny speaker. Phee paused in her explanation, a rarity for her.

“I haven't heard their song in years.” She finally said softly. 

Tech looked up at her. She was staring at the pieces of the bird and she gently brushed a piece with her finger. 

Tech wanted her to hear the song again. 

“I am sure that I will be able to repair it.” He said in an attempt to console her. 

Phee smiled. 

“Of course. I've got perfect faith in you.”

He worked for a moment more, studying each piece.

“Got an idea of what's wrong?” Phee asked.

“Yes.” Tech said. “The wiring from the power source is corroded. The voice coil for the speaker is broken as well. A simple repair.”

He glanced at her.

“In fact, you did not need me to mend this.” He said. “Your mechanical skills are more than sufficient to perform the repair.”

He froze as Phee put a hand on one of his.

“Maybe. I probably could have fixed a lot of the artifacts you’ve worked on, in all honesty.” She said. “But- I wanted to share this one with you.”

Tech looked at her. He could not read her expression and yet- his heart began to pound quickly in his chest. 

She wished to share something she felt so strongly about with him. He realized how intimate a gesture it was. And he realized that he was glad she did.

“I- would like to hear their song.” Tech said. “With you.”

He found he could not take his eyes from her lips. He became very aware of their skin touching and how close her face was to his. 

“I might just kiss you, Browneyes.” Phee said.

He very much wanted her to. 

She didn’t. At least, not at first. She leaned down.

“Can I?” She whispered in his ear.

Tech nodded, breathless from anticipation.

The kiss came.

He hadn’t known what to expect. He had no experience in the matter. In the past, he had wondered at the act of pressing mouths together. He knew lips were sensitive, but it still seemed odd.

It was not odd.

It was exquisite.

For a moment, the shock of the experience froze him, leaving him to just allow Phee to move her lips against his. Then, without his usual confidence, he pressed back. Why had he not researched this? He felt so ignorant and incompetent.

But Phee just applied more force and slid her hand up his neck into his hair. It must have been sufficient.

For a moment, he merely enjoyed the sensation and his closeness to her. Then- then his exceptional mind betrayed him.

What- what did this mean? Was this mere animal attraction? What would their relationship be moving forward? Did he wish to be in a relationship? Was he doing any of this correctly? What exactly did she feel for him?

Did he love her?

Anxiety became the clearest of the tangle of emotions in his chest. He pulled away from Phee, his heart pounding for a new reason.

“Hey.” Phee said, removing her hands and holding them as if afraid to touch him. “Hey. Are you all right? Kriff, I’m sorry-”

“I-” Tech forced out. He had never been so lost for words. “I do not- I need to think-”

“I understand.” Phee said quickly. “I get it. I’m sorry for pushing.”

Then she was gone. A small part of him wanted her to stay. Most of him was just confused and overwhelmed. The emotions were too strong. Did all beings feel like this during courtship? He tried to sort through his reaction, but doing so dug a pit in his stomach.

He did not understand.

A distraction. He needed to focus on something else. He forced himself to look at the work in front of him: shining pieces of porcelain scattered around their mechanical insides. He swallowed as the confusing emotions surged again. No, this would not do.

He got up and left the workshop with a steady stride he did not feel. Perhaps- perhaps Omega would like a flying lesson.

Six weeks after the destruction of Tantiss

“Gotcha.”

Tech looked up from his work and immediately looked down again. Phee was leaning against the doorframe of the ragged, burnt hut he currently occupied. He tightened his lips to a line and tried to focus on the cooling unit he was repairing. He heard Phee take a step in.

“You sure like tinkering in odd places.” She went on. “I’m surprised you managed to escape your family.”

Tech bit back the reply that it had been difficult, though he doubted he’d be able to get it out regardless. His brothers and sister tended to keep him on a short leash since they’d come back. But he could not bear to look at Crosshair’s residual limb for even a moment longer.

“You know you can come to me if you need a break from their fussing, right?” 

It almost made Tech laugh. As if she fussed any less. As if he could bear her kindness after all he had done. They were in a reminder of that: a blackened, uninhabitable, shell of a building.

A moment of silence passed.

“So you’re gonna stay here.” Phee said.

Tech gave her a nod. More silence. He heard her walk closer and felt her crouch beside him.

“You got a minute?” She asked. “I know you’re busy helping rebuild-”

Helping rebuild? No, he was atoning for what he had done, in some miniscule way.

“But I think we need to talk.” Phee finished.

Tech continued working. Talk? He could barely speak on his more functional days. What manner of conversation could he engage in that would be of use? Even if he could, how could mere words help? What he felt, what had happened to him, what he had done was beyond verbalization.

So he shook his head. She didn’t say anything. Then she placed her hand next to one of his. When he did not draw away, she took it. He stared at their entwined fingers. Touch had become common from her since his return.

“We’re worried, Browneyes.” She said. “Can we just try?”

Tech swallowed. He knew they were worried. Crosshair had no jibes for him. Echo checked in far more often than he had before, asking after Tech specifically. Hunter made sure someone was with him at all times. Wrecker constantly asked if he was well, even when it was obvious he was not. And Omega- Omega, who watched him always, who cried for him when she thought he couldn’t hear, who stubbornly pushed him towards things she believed would help him.

He did not want them to worry. Perhaps knowing that he had tried would ease their anxiety.

So he nodded.

“Thank you.” Phee said. She pulled at his hand. “Come on.”

Tech considered resisting. They could converse about his status here as well as anywhere. But Phee put her other hand on his. It felt- nice. He let her tug him to his feet. She led him out of the crumbling house and into the sunlight.

He did not miss her subtly click a button on her comm. Likely informing the others that he had been found.

She led him up the many steps up the island. They had to stop to rest a few times. He was still recovering from the wound Hunter had given him. His cybernetics had been damaged as well. They still worked, allowing him to move and live, but not as efficiently or painlessly as they could. Unfortunately he could not yet stand them being touched, even by his own hands.

The cybernetics ached as they reached the top of the island. The Archium loomed over them, casting its shadow across the courtyard. Phee took him straight to the building, but ignored the main entrance. Good. Tech did not wish to see his brothers’ armor, donated after their return from- that place. More accurately, he did not wish to see the empty space beside them where only his shattered goggles lay.

Only when Phee guided him to the side of the building did his addled mind realize where she was taking him. She ushered him into the workshop.

He paused at the threshold, taking the dusty workbenches and low, soothing light in. The room seemed untouched from when he had last been there. In fact, the pieces of a mechanical bird lay on the workbench. He remembered taking it apart, Phee telling him what it was. He remembered what had happened afterwards.

“Remember how full this room used to be?” Phee asked. “How many broken things were on those shelves?”

Tech nodded, letting her distract him and bring him a few steps further in.

“You fixed dozens of artifacts.” Phee said. “Some easy, some hard. But they were all here, just waiting for you.”

She stepped in front of him. He closed his eyes, unwilling to meet her gaze. He felt a delicate touch on his cheek, fingers against his skin.

“Can you imagine if they ran and hid, not giving you the chance to help?” She whispered. “They’d never be whole again.”

Tech saw the metaphor. “I- am a human.” He managed. “They are not as easily restored.”

“True.” Phee admitted. “But we’re not exactly strangers to challenges.”

Slowly, as if to give him time to pull away if he wished, she put her arms around him. He did not wish to. He let her and even raised a hand to touch her arm.

“It feels undeserved.” He said. “After all I have done.”

Phee held him tighter.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I feel the guilt all the same.”

It was- easier to speak here in this quiet room, just to her. She let go.

“Look at me.” She said. “Please.”

Tech opened his eyes and managed a moment’s eye contact before looking at her ear instead. She did not scold him.

“You did all this, fixing so much, without being asked.” She said. “No pay, nothing.”

“You and the rest of the island gave us a home.” Tech said. “It was the least I could do to repay you.”

“We didn’t ask to be repaid.” Phee said. “You like helping people. You’re a good person.”

She took his hands again.

“A good person who was hurt badly and wasn’t able to make the decisions he would have.”

“I know that.” Tech said. “And then- I look at Crosshair. I see the damage the Imperial troops I brought did to Pabu.”

He hated how his emotions, once so firmly under control, ruled him now. 

“And every waking hour you've tried to fix it.” Phee said. 

Before Tech could reply, Phee sighed and touched his cheek again. 

“I know you won't be able to change the way you feel right away.” She said. “All I'm asking- all we're asking is for you to try.”

Tech felt himself nod. He could try. 

Phee smiled at him. It seemed to ease the heavy emotions in his chest. Yes, he would try. If only to inspire more smiles in her, in his family. 

He looked to the disassembled bird on the workbench. There was another way to make her smile. 

And- among all the other sources of guilt from his time as CX-2, there was one from before. It was time to undo the regret he'd carried from their last interactions. 

He drew his hands away and took a step towards the workbench. He glanced back at Phee, who raised an eyebrow. 

“I wish to hear its song.” Tech explained. “With you.”

He would find the words for a true apology later. For now, it was enough to sit with her here. 

He was like this bird, he decided, taken apart and broken. But not beyond repair. Especially with a mechanic as skilled and determined as the woman holding his hand.

ANs:

Kind of a loose interpretation of the prompt, with a focus on the ‘have a minute’ and the ‘somewhere only we know’ being the repair room.

So this was originally just the final scene, with the previous two scenes just referenced to. And for once in my life, I decided I wanted more than just angst, so I wrote the other two scenes out. As a result, I think there might be a bit of a disconnect between those two first scenes and the last one. Ah well. The Archium Wookieepedia page mentions that it’s a place to repair artifacts and I knew that Tech needed to be involved with that. 

Tech’s reaction to the kiss comes from my own reaction to being kissed for the first time. He will actually be able to process it one day. And you know, he’s actually in love with the person kissing him. He’s just a lil overwhelmed. Plus, it’s an explanation on part of why he’s so awkward when she says goodbye.

Day 2 and 3 might come late, because this one took longer than I expected. I SHOULD get those written. I’ve got ideas for them both. Unfortunately, the idea for day 2 is a bit long. Ah well.

For once I am too tired for any extensive ANs. Oh well, I might add more later.

Stay safe, remember to review, and I’ll see you later!

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Haikyuu!! Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou Characters: Kozume Kenma, Kuroo Tetsurou Additional Tags: Fluff, Feelings Realization, Slice of Life, being a teenager is confusing, they are in love but they don’t know it yet, Character Study, Drabble, Platonic Cuddling, Sleepy Cuddles, Literal Sleeping Together, Sharing a Bed, Kuroo Tetsurou is Whipped, Teasing, Rating might go up if i continue this, Texting, Long-Distance Friendship Summary:

Kuroo and Kenma are studying together, and Kenma’s finding out some new, interesting things.