#what about my existence is too much. and i do not know myself well enough to separate a logical restraint | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

solxamber · 3 months ago

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Making Up After an Argument With: Vice Housewardens + Kalim

part 1 with overblot gang + rollo

more hurt/comfort for the soul!

Trey Clover:

It had been days since your argument with Trey. Days of agonizing silence. Days of avoiding each other in the hallways, sidestepping glances in the cafeteria, and pretending not to exist when you crossed paths in class. It was ridiculous.

You could barely even remember what you had argued about. Something about cake batter consistency? Or was it his relentless calmness in the face of your very valid cake-related frustration? Regardless, this had gone on long enough.

And you? Well, you were dramatic by nature, so if you were going to apologize to Trey, it needed to be big. Monumental. The stuff of legends.

So you did what any normal person would do: you put together an apology that could have come straight out of a Shakespearean tragedy.

The setting: Trey's dorm room.

The plan: Apologize with flair.

The execution? Well… here goes.

You kicked open the door to his room—literally, because who needs normalcy when you’re trying to make a grand entrance?

“TREYYYYY!!!” you wailed, throwing yourself to the floor dramatically as if you had just collapsed under the weight of your own misery. You didn’t even bother getting up—no, you stayed there, prone on the floor, arms stretched out in a cross shape like you were trying to summon a deity.

Trey looked up from his desk, eyes wide in utter disbelief at the absolute spectacle in front of him. His glasses slid down his nose slightly as he blinked, staring at you as if he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or be concerned.

“...what are you doing?” he asked, his voice slow, measured, and cautious. This was so much even for you.

You grabbed a pillow from his bed, clutching it to your chest as you rolled over dramatically, eyes squinted in faux despair. “I have wronged you, dear Trey,” you moaned, as though you were performing an award-winning monologue on stage. “I have been a FOOL, a BRAT, a mere shadow of the decent human I once was. I came here to THROW MYSELF at your FEET and beg for FORGIVENESS!”

Trey blinked again. He was so calm that it almost made you want to scream. This was serious! You were performing your soul out right now!

You pushed yourself up to your knees, crawling a little closer to him, throwing your arms up to the ceiling. “I have spent these past few days in agony,” you continued, voice now filled with the heavy weight of tragic longing. “My life without you has been like a cupcake without frosting! Like tea without sugar! Like—like… a world without your glasses to reflect the sunlight into my soul!”

Trey pressed his lips together, clearly fighting back a smile. You continued, undeterred.

“My heart is broken, shattered, like the eggs we once cracked together to make the finest sponge cake. And now… now, Trey Clover, I come to you, humble and pleading. I ask you to take pity on this poor wretch who was too blind to see the treasure before them. Forgive me, Trey. Please. Don’t let me die from this—this unbearable torment!”

There was a pause. A long one. Trey stared at you with that soft, almost amused expression, and then he sighed, shaking his head as he got up from his desk.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he said, walking over to you. He crouched down beside you, his tone gentle despite the absurdity of the situation.

Still fully committed to your performance, you grabbed his hands and held them to your chest, staring up at him with wide, imploring eyes. “Ridiculous for you, Trey. Only for you.”

He finally broke, a chuckle escaping his lips as he looked at you, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. Get up. You don’t have to be so over the top.”

You hesitated, playing up the pause before you dramatically threw yourself onto him, burying your face into his stomach like a child seeking forgiveness. “I won’t get up until you forgive me!” you cried, muffled against his shirt.

Trey let out a sigh of fond exasperation, patting the top of your head like you were an unruly puppy. “You’re impossible.”

With a final chuckle, he pulled you up to your feet. “I forgive you. You don’t have to grovel,” he said, his voice warm, but there was something in his eyes that looked a little distant, a little… sad?

That’s when the theatrics faded. You could see it, plain as day, the little dip in his expression, the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Something wasn’t right.

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “Hey… is something wrong?”

Trey blinked, glancing away for a second before letting out a small sigh. “No, it’s… it’s nothing. Really.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice as you rested a hand on his arm. “Trey, come on. I know you better than that.”

He hesitated, then ran a hand through his hair, glancing out the window before he finally spoke. “It’s just… I didn’t know if you’d come back.” His voice was quieter now, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it. “I thought… I don’t know, maybe you’d decide that I’m not as interesting or… exciting as some of the other people around here. I’m just the guy who bakes and keeps everything running smoothly.”

You felt your heart twist at his words. Trey, always so calm and collected, always in the background, thinking he wasn’t enough? How wrong he was.

“Trey…” you said softly, stepping even closer now, so close that your forehead was practically brushing his chest. “You’re wrong. You’re everything I want. You’re more than enough.”

He looked down at you, surprised by the sincerity in your voice.

You reached up, cupping his face gently in your hands, making him look directly at you. “You don’t have to be flashy or dramatic or anything else. I don’t want that. I just want you. The Trey who cares, who listens, who’s always there when I need him, even when I’m being a total idiot.” You smiled softly. “You’re steady, and that’s what makes you special. Not everyone else.”

Trey’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, like he was trying to process your words. Then, with a small, almost shy smile, he pulled you into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around you as if he was afraid to let go.

“Thank you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice low and full of emotion.

You squeezed him back, your earlier theatrics now a distant memory as you felt the warmth of his embrace. “I mean it, Trey. You’re perfect the way you are.”

There was a moment of quiet, just the two of you standing there, holding onto each other. It wasn’t grand or dramatic—it was simple, and honest, and perfect.

And then, because you couldn’t help yourself, you whispered, “Plus, your cakes are way better than anyone else’s.”

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You really are something else, you know that?”

You grinned against his chest. “Only for you, Trey. Only for you.”

Ruggie Bucchi

The silent treatment between you and Ruggie had stretched on longer than either of you expected. And it was killing you. The worst part? Neither of you was budging. Stubborn as all get-out. But you weren’t just any regular person—you were extra. If you were going to break the silence, you’d do it in the most dramatic, over-the-top way possible.

And what was Ruggie’s greatest weakness?

Food.

So, here you were, standing at the doorstep of Ruggie’s dorm with a feast in your hands. You had collected everything from the cafeteria—pies, cakes, sandwiches, chips—anything edible that would appeal to his sense of taste, because this wasn’t just about an apology; this was an event.

And like any event, you were about to turn this into the most theatrical, food-based apology in the history of NRC.

You knocked on his door three times. The door creaked open slightly, and Ruggie peeked through the gap, eyes narrowing when he saw you standing there. “What do you want?”

He still sounded salty. But, of course, you had prepared for this.

“I come… bearing gifts,” you said, lifting the massive tray of food with all the grandeur of a royal presenting treasure to the king. “A peace offering! An apology! A banquet for the ages!”

Ruggie’s eyes widened as he took in the sheer amount of food. “What is all this?”

“Our reconciliation,” you declared, dramatically. “I come humbly, with my arms full of all that your stomach desires. For I have wronged you, Ruggie Bucchi, and I must beg for forgiveness in the only way I know how—with food.”

Ruggie stared at you, lips twitching as if he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or kick you out. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I know,” you wailed, feigning anguish. “I’m a fool, Ruggie! A foolish, foolish person! But a fool who knows that you won’t stay mad when there’s a perfectly good tray of sandwiches right in front of you.”

He arched a brow. “You’re bribing me with food?”

“Absolutely.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, staring at you as if sizing you up. “What if I say no?”

Without missing a beat, you plopped yourself down on the floor, placing the tray on your lap. “Then I’ll just sit here and eat everything in front of your door until you feel so guilty, you’ll have to forgive me.”

There was a beat of silence before Ruggie snorted, unable to keep the smirk off his face. “You’re crazy.”

“And yet… you haven’t closed the door,” you shot back, giving him a sly smile.

Ruggie let out a long-suffering sigh but stepped aside, allowing you into his dorm room with all your extravagant offerings.

Once inside, you laid the food out on the table as if setting up for a feast. Plates and bowls and trays—everything perfectly arranged in the most ridiculous spread you could muster. You turned to him, arms open wide like a game show host revealing the grand prize.

“For you, my dear, a meal to rival kings!” you announced with a flourish. “And also my heartfelt apology.”

Ruggie eyed the spread, trying to keep his expression neutral, but you could see the gears turning. You knew him. He wasn’t one to say no to free food, no matter how petty he was being.

“I’m listening,” he said, finally, leaning against the table as if he wasn’t already plotting which dish to devour first.

You placed a hand on your heart, staring at him with as much sincerity as you could muster. “Ruggie, I’m sorry. I was being a brat. I didn’t mean to snap at you over something so small, and I definitely didn’t mean to let it drag out like this.” You paused, grabbing a sandwich and holding it out to him as if it were a peace token. “Please forgive me?”

He looked at the sandwich, then at you, and then, after a long moment of hesitation, he snatched it out of your hand. “Fine, fine. You’re lucky I can’t stay mad when there’s food involved.”

You grinned, relief washing over you. “You’re easy to bribe.”

“You’re easy to apologize to,” he shot back, taking a huge bite of the sandwich. “But yeah… I forgive you.”

You relaxed, plopping down into a chair across from him as you watched him devour the food with the same efficiency that he handled everything in life. But there was still something in his eyes—something that looked a little off, even though he was joking around now.

And then, almost as if reading your thoughts, Ruggie spoke.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now, less playful. “I… I gotta admit something.”

You blinked, straightening up a little. “Yeah?”

Ruggie leaned back in his chair, staring down at the sandwich in his hands. “I know we fought over something stupid, but... I’ve been thinking. I was scared, y’know?” He let out a bitter laugh. “I thought maybe you were realizing you could do better than someone like me. I mean, look at me—I’m always hustling, always trying to scrape by. Penny-pinching, scheming… I’m not like all those rich, flashy guys you’re surrounded by.”

His words hung in the air, and your heart squeezed at the vulnerability in his voice.

“Ruggie,” you said softly, standing up and walking over to him. You placed your hands on his shoulders, making him look up at you. “What are you talking about? I don’t care about any of that. I care about you.”

He frowned, glancing away. “Yeah, but… it’s hard not to feel like I’m just some background guy, y’know? Like you’d get tired of me eventually.”

You shook your head, feeling a rush of affection for this boy who always acted like he had the world figured out but was still so worried about being left behind.

“You’re wrong,” you said firmly, cupping his face in your hands. “You’re not just ‘some background guy.’ You’re everything to me. I don’t care about money or schemes or any of that. You’re smart, you’re funny, you make me laugh every day, and you’re always looking out for me, even when I don’t deserve it.”

Ruggie’s eyes softened, his lips parting slightly like he didn’t know what to say.

You smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “And besides,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, “if you think I’m gonna find someone better than the guy who can steal a whole feast from the cafeteria without getting caught, you’re seriously underestimating how much I value your skills.”

That finally earned a chuckle from him, his shoulders relaxing as he let out a breath he’d been holding. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only for you,” you teased, planting another kiss on his cheek, then another on the tip of his nose, and then—just because you could—one more on his lips.

Ruggie, now thoroughly kissed, wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his lap. “I guess I can’t stay mad at you, huh?” he murmured, his voice soft now, all the tension from earlier melting away.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck as you rested your forehead against his. “Not when I’m this cute.”

He snorted, nuzzling into you. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make a habit out of fighting with me, or I’m gonna get spoiled from all these fancy apologies.”

You grinned. “Deal. As long as you promise to remember that you’re more than enough for me.”

Ruggie looked up at you, his usual mischievous grin returning, but there was something warmer in his eyes now, something softer. “Yeah. I’ll remember.”

And with that, you pulled him in for another kiss, sealing the apology and the promise with a little extra love.

Jade Leech:

The silent treatment between you and Jade Leech had been going on for far too long now. And, sure, you could be stubborn. You could match his pettiness tit-for-tat. But at some point, even the most ridiculous battles need a ceasefire. And this particular cold war was starting to wear you both down.

The tension had grown so thick it could probably be bottled and sold as premium-grade eelskin moisturizer. You weren't sure what had gotten you both so worked up in the first place—something about a miscommunication over a rare mushroom and your tendency to call out his cryptic grins. It snowballed from there.

But today, you were going to be the bigger person.

Which meant it was time to break the ice. And not with any ordinary apology—oh, no. Jade Leech wasn’t a man swayed by simple words and chocolates. You needed something grander, something that spoke to his peculiar interests and refined tastes.

And that's how you found yourself in the local black market—er, highly exclusive specialty shop—shelling out way too much money for some ultra-rare terrarium material. You didn’t know what it was, exactly. It was glowy, mossy, and something Jade would probably coo over like a proud parent. Perfect.

And you had a plan. Not just any apology plan—oh no, you were going to kill this with a one-two punch of heartfelt apology and a sweet gesture that no petty argument could stand up to.

That evening, you found yourself standing outside Mostro Lounge with your rare terrarium goods tucked under one arm and a small, handmade "I’m Sorry" cake under the other. Because if there’s one thing Jade Leech loves, it's weird, rare plant materials.

The Mostro Lounge was quiet, the perfect setup for your grand gesture. You pushed open the door and slipped inside, only to find Jade sitting at one of the tables, clearly deep in thought.

You cleared your throat loudly, and his eyes flicked up to meet yours, narrowing slightly. Oh, good, he was still feeling salty.

"Jade," you called out in a dramatic, over-the-top tone, walking toward him like you were making a royal entrance. "I come bearing gifts. The finest of gifts." You carefully set the rare terrarium material on the table before pulling the cake out of the box with a flourish.

Jade raised an eyebrow, his expression carefully neutral. “Ah, how… thoughtful. And what, pray tell, is this?” he asked, eyeing the mossy material as if it were an amusing trinket.

You straightened up, grinning. “A rare moss that only grows under the full moon in the volcanic pits of the Obsidian Islands. I fought off twelve merchants for it. I might have bruised a kidney in the process, but hey, it's worth it for you."

Jade blinked, but his lips twitched. "How charmingly excessive," he said, though his tone was still icy. “And the cake?”

You set the cake down with a proud smile. “Homemade. No eels were harmed in the making of it, I promise. Consider it a peace offering… because, you know… maybe we’ve been a little ridiculous?”

Jade’s eyes slid back to the terrarium material, then back to you, and you could see that familiar glint of amusement cracking through his carefully composed exterior. “A little ridiculous? Hmm, perhaps that’s one way to put it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, c’mon, Jade. We’ve both been petty, and it’s getting us nowhere. You don’t want to be in this weird stalemate forever, do you?”

He tilted his head, regarding you with that infuriatingly polite smile. “I was under the impression that this was a competition to see who could hold out the longest. But perhaps I underestimated your resolve.”

You groaned, but before you could say anything snarky back, Jade’s gaze softened. He looked down at the cake, then at the terrarium material, and sighed—a sound so small and uncharacteristically vulnerable that it made your chest tighten.

"Truth be told,” he murmured, “I was beginning to think that this was the final straw. That I had ruined something good by being… well, myself." His voice dropped in volume, and for once, there wasn’t a hint of teasing or sarcasm in it.

You blinked. Wait—what?

Jade Leech thought you were going to leave him? You? Sure, you'd had fights before, but this one was different, wasn’t it? Still, the way he looked at you now—guard down, that polite mask starting to crumble—it hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Jade…” You set the cake aside and moved toward him, gently tugging him into a hug. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t get rid of me that easily.”

For a moment, he was stiff, still clinging to his composure. But then, ever so slowly, his arms wrapped around you, and he buried his face into your shoulder.

“I didn’t realize how much this argument was bothering you,” you said softly, running your fingers through his hair. “I thought we were both being silly, but… I should have known better. I should’ve just apologized sooner.”

Jade was quiet for a few long moments, his arms tightening around you. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come back. I thought perhaps you’d realized you deserved better than… well, someone like me. Someone so focused on... mischief."

You leaned back just enough to cup his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Jade Leech, do you honestly think I’d walk away because you’re… what, a little mysterious? Please. I love that about you.” You smiled, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “You’re smart, and you make life interesting. You mean the world to me.”

Jade’s eyes widened slightly, and for once, he looked genuinely surprised. Then, slowly, a small smile crept onto his lips—soft, real, and free of his usual smugness.

“You have quite the way with words,” he murmured, leaning into your touch.

“I’ve been practicing,” you teased, before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

Jade melted into the kiss, and when you finally pulled back, he looked more at ease than he had in days.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

You kissed him again, softer this time, before pulling him into another tight hug. “No more silent treatment, okay? Next time, let’s just talk things out before it gets ridiculous.”

Jade chuckled softly, nodding. “Agreed. Though I must say, your dramatic apology was quite entertaining.”

You grinned. “I aim to please.”

And with that, the two of you spent the rest of the evening laughing, eating cake, and—most importantly—making up. The argument was forgotten, and all that remained was the warmth of knowing that, no matter what, you and Jade would always find your way back to each other.

Kalim Al-Asim

It was completely out of character for you and Kalim to fight. Kalim Al-Asim—the boy with the heart as bright as a thousand suns—wasn’t exactly the type to harbor negativity. Arguments just didn’t happen between the two of you. He’d smile, laugh it off, and find some extravagant way to make peace, usually involving some form of spontaneous celebration or showering you with gifts.

But this time, something had gone awry. The fight had left a sour taste in your mouth, and, even more surprising, you had given him the silent treatment for days.

Days! As if that was even possible. Kalim had tried to make things right, sending you lavish gifts, offering up trips to the oasis, and practically begging with those big, shimmering eyes. But you had stood firm, giving him the cold shoulder. It wasn’t until now, while pacing your room, that you realized just how ridiculous it all was.

Kalim wasn’t a bad guy. He wasn’t even remotely deserving of being treated this way. Life was too short, and giving Kalim the silent treatment was like trying to dim the sun itself. It was painful, unnatural, and only left the world a little darker.

You had to apologize. But you couldn’t just say sorry. Not for Kalim. No, you had to do something that would reach deep into his soul, something that screamed, “I am sorry for being a fool and depriving you of my radiant presence!”—in true Kalim fashion.

The door to Scarabia swung open with a flourish, and you marched in, carrying your ��apology” in the most dramatic, over-the-top way possible. In your arms was a golden tray, laden with every dessert known to man.

Sweets from the farthest reaches of the desert, cakes stacked like miniature mountains, and the crown jewel: a massive tower of Baklava, glistening with honey and topped with an edible diamond (you might have gone a little overboard).

Kalim was sitting by the fountain in the common room, looking forlorn. But when he saw you approaching with this ridiculous confectionary masterpiece, his face lit up like a firework display. "Wha—? What’s all this?!" he asked, scrambling to his feet.

You set the tray down with a flourish, sweeping an arm dramatically over the display. “Kalim Al-Asim! I come bearing a humble offering. It may not be enough to express the depths of my regret, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me!”

Kalim’s face softened immediately, the ghost of a grin pulling at his lips. "Aww, you didn’t have to do all this! I was just about to apologize to you, I swear!"

You shook your head dramatically, pretending to wipe a tear. “No, Kalim! I’ve been a fool! Life without your smile is like the desert without water—a barren wasteland of misery! Please, let me make it up to you with this absurdly lavish, entirely unnecessary, but very tasty display of affection.”

He burst into laughter, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Okay, okay, you’re forgiven! You didn’t have to go this far!” He gave you a playful nudge, already eyeing the tower of sweets with a twinkle in his eye.

Naturally, Kalim being Kalim, his first instinct was to throw a party. “This calls for a celebration!” he exclaimed. “Let’s invite everyone over, get the music going, and—"

But something was off. His words were as excited as ever, but his smile—his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Normally, Kalim's enthusiasm was infectious, a hurricane of joy sweeping everyone up in its path. But now, there was a dimness to it, like someone had put a filter over the sunshine that was Kalim Al-Asim.

You narrowed your eyes. “Wait a second.” You grabbed him by the arm, dragging him toward his room without explanation.

Kalim, too surprised to resist, blinked as you pulled him inside, shutting the door behind you. “What’s going on?” he asked, still trying to piece together what was happening.

“Sit,” you commanded, pointing to the bed. He sat, confusion still written all over his face, and you kneeled beside him, hands resting on his knees. “Alright, spill it.”

“Spill what?”

“You know what,” you said, voice softening now. “Your smile… it wasn’t right. That’s not your real smile. What’s wrong, Kalim?”

He hesitated, looking down at his hands for a moment before sighing. “It’s just…” He trailed off, fiddling with the fabric of his pants. “I don’t like it when we fight. And I keep thinking... maybe you deserve someone better. Someone who won’t make you mad in the first place. Someone who’s smarter, more… competent. I always mess up, don’t I? And you shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

Your heart clenched, and you felt a surge of both love and exasperation well up inside you. How could he think that? Him, of all people? You reached out, grabbing his face in both hands and squishing his cheeks together. “Kalim,” you said sternly, “You listen to me, and you listen good.”

His cheeks were smooshed, making him look utterly ridiculous, but he nodded as best as he could under your grip.

“I don’t want someone else. I don’t want someone more ‘competent’ or ‘smarter.’ I want you, Kalim Al-Asim. You, with your big heart, your endless optimism, and your ability to turn every day into a celebration. You mean everything to me, and no amount of silly arguments is going to change that.”

You released his cheeks, and he blinked at you, wide-eyed. “Really?” His voice was muffled and still slightly smooshed.

“Really,” you said, smiling warmly. “You’re my sunshine, Kalim. Life would be so boring without you.”

Before he could say anything, you leaned in and peppered his face with kisses—on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, anywhere you could reach. He laughed, the sound bubbling up from deep within him, and you could finally see that brightness returning to his eyes. The real smile. The one that could light up an entire palace.

“Okay, okay! I believe you!” he managed to say between fits of laughter, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar warmth. “I’m sorry for being petty,” you murmured. “I love you, Kalim.”

His grip tightened around you, and you could feel him smiling against your hair. “I love you too. And hey, no more fighting, okay?”

You nodded against his chest, feeling the weight of the past few days lift off your shoulders. “No more fighting. And no more throwing parties after apologies, okay? Let’s just… enjoy this.”

He chuckled softly. “Deal. But can we still eat the Baklava tower?”

You pulled back, grinning. “Obviously.”

With that, the two of you sat there for a while longer, tangled in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth of reconciliation. And for the first time in days, everything felt right again.

Rook Hunt

You had been giving Rook the silent treatment for far too long now. At first, it was easy to ignore his poetic attempts at reconciliation—his dramatic speeches and flowers left in odd places (your shoes, under your pillow, even in your lunch). You had to admit, the guy was persistent, but you were stubborn. Stubborn, and maybe a bit petty.

But you missed him.

Which is why, today, you’d decided it was time to apologize. And not just any apology. No, no, no. This was Rook Hunt, the king of extravagance, drama, and all things flamboyant. If you were going to apologize, it had to be big.

You strutted through the hallways with purpose, a plan in place. Rook wouldn’t know what hit him.

When you finally found him, he was in the courtyard, gazing wistfully into the distance like some sort of Renaissance painting brought to life. Of course. Typical Rook.

You cleared your throat loudly, enough to get his attention. When his head snapped toward you, his eyes widening, you saw the hopeful glimmer in them. But you didn’t let him speak—not yet.

“No need for words, Rook Hunt,” you announced dramatically, extending one arm out wide and placing a hand over your heart as if you were in a Shakespearean tragedy. “For today, I come to seek your forgiveness!”

Rook blinked, clearly confused but intrigued. That was your in.

“I have wronged you, my dearest huntsman,” you continued, falling to your knees in a sweeping motion, as if you were collapsing under the weight of your guilt. “I have ignored you, punished you with silence for far too long, and for this, I am truly repentant.”

By now, Rook was staring at you, utterly captivated by your performance, which only encouraged you to go bigger.

“I have been petty, unreasonable, and blind to your affections,” you said, throwing your hands to the sky as if appealing to the heavens themselves. “But today, I seek redemption! I beg of you, O Rook Hunt, forgive me, for I cannot live another day without hearing your flowery prose, without basking in your eccentric glory!”

Rook’s lips twitched, and he brought a hand to his mouth, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. But you weren’t finished.

“To prove my sincerity, I offer you a token,” you declared, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a single, crumpled daisy. You held it up to him with both hands as if it were a royal gift. “A humble flower, to represent the fragile beauty of our love. Please, accept it.”

Rook stared at the flower, then at you, before finally, he cracked. His laughter spilled out, echoing in the courtyard. He dropped to one knee in front of you, his shoulders shaking with amusement. “Mon trésor, only you could outdo even my own dramatics.”

You gave him a triumphant grin, still holding out the flower. “So… am I forgiven?”

Rook’s eyes softened as he reached out, taking the daisy from your hand as if it were the most precious thing in the world. “Forgiven? You were never truly condemned, mon amour.” He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his usual playfulness shining through.

“Good,” you said, relieved. “I was running out of material.”

But just as you were about to stand, Rook moved faster. In a blink, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into the tightest hug you’d ever experienced. You were practically squished against him, and while you appreciated the affection, it was getting hard to breathe.

“Rook…?” you managed to mumble into his shoulder. “I can’t… breathe.”

But he didn’t let go. If anything, he hugged you tighter, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “I thought I had lost you,” he whispered, his voice low and shaky in a way that caught you off guard.

You paused, your heart sinking at the tone in his voice. Slowly, you pulled away, struggling a bit against his grip until you were able to meet his eyes. “Rook? What’s wrong?”

He sighed, finally loosening his hold just enough to let you move, but he didn’t let go entirely. His gaze flickered to the ground for a moment before he finally spoke. “I was afraid,” he admitted, his voice uncharacteristically small. “Afraid that my eccentricity… my quirks, my passion for the unusual—had finally driven you away.”

You blinked in surprise. Rook, of all people, thinking you would get tired of him? The man whose energy practically radiated confidence, who seemed unshakable?

“Rook…” You reached up, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. “I love your quirks. I love how weird and dramatic and over-the-top you are. It’s what makes you you.” You leaned in, planting a kiss on his cheek. “And I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

His eyes widened, but you didn’t stop there. You kissed the other cheek, then his forehead, peppering his face with kisses until he started laughing softly under the onslaught.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered between kisses. “I was being petty, and I took it too far. I never wanted to hurt you like that.”

Rook shook his head slightly, but he didn’t pull away from your affection. “You have no need to apologize, mon cœur. I just… I couldn’t bear the thought of losing your light.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to make your point clear. “You’ll never lose me,” you said firmly, your forehead resting against his. “Not for being who you are. I love you, Rook. Every part of you.”

A soft smile spread across his lips as he leaned into you, his arms wrapping around you once more—though much gentler this time. “Je t’aime,” he murmured, his voice full of warmth. “More than words can express.”

You grinned, pulling back just enough to kiss the tip of his nose. “I love you too, you dramatic dork.”

He chuckled, holding you close, and for a long moment, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing quiet kisses and soft words.

It was, in its own way, the most perfect apology you could’ve ever given.

Lilia Vanrouge:

It had been days since the argument. Days! And you could practically feel your willpower disintegrating with every second that passed.

It was completely out of character for you and Lilia to fight. Normally, Lilia’s mischievous grin could melt away any tension between the two of you, but this time, something had gone awry. The disagreement wasn’t even over anything important, but you both had dug your heels in out of sheer stubbornness. Now, the silence stretched on like a never-ending opera that had lost its charm halfway through Act 2.

You were on the verge of cracking. If there was one thing you couldn’t handle, it was seeing Lilia go a whole day without teasing you or giving one of his random, nonsensical life lessons. And now? There was just silence. Deafening silence.

Even worse, Malleus had started giving you the look. You knew the one: his trademark “kicked puppy” expression, like you had personally thrown a thunderstorm over his parade. Every time you walked by, his wide, draconic eyes would lock onto yours, as if begging for you to fix things with Lilia.

The final straw came one evening, after Malleus lpoked at you like you had just told him all the gargoyles were being demolished.

That was it. You couldn't take it anymore.

Lilia was sitting in the Diasomnia common room, reading some old tome, looking as composed as ever. But you knew him better than that. His usual mischievous sparkle was missing, replaced by an uncharacteristic somberness.

You needed to apologize, but it couldn’t just be any apology. No, this was Lilia Vanrouge. You had to match his energy with something equally as ridiculous and dramatic.

So, you walked into the room, threw yourself onto the ground, and sprawled out like a dramatic character in an ancient tragedy, arms spread wide, face contorted in over-the-top despair. "LILIA!" you wailed, your voice echoing off the stone walls. "I cannot bear it any longer! The weight of my guilt crushes me like a boulder atop my fragile soul! Forgive me, or I shall wither away into nothingness, a mere shadow of the person I once was!"

Lilia looked up from his book, eyes widening slightly at the sheer spectacle of your apology. You threw an arm over your face, dramatically flopping onto your side, as though consumed by your own sorrow.

"If you cannot find it in your heart to forgive me," you continued, "then I shall simply expire here and now! Right here, in the common room! My ghost will haunt these halls forever, wailing tragically, and Malleus will be even sadder than before!"

Lilia finally broke into a grin, setting his book down and crossing his arms, clearly amused. "Oh, dearest, you really are laying it on thick, aren’t you?"

"I’m serious!" you declared, sitting up with dramatic flair. "Look at me—this is the face of someone who’s very sorry! And if I have to do more, then I will escalate! I will serenade you in the courtyard! Or... or bake you something!" You paused. "Actually, no. I wouldn't subject you to my cooking. But something dramatic will happen!"

Lilia let out a laugh, the tension that had hung between you two finally dissipating with his amusement. "Alright, alright. I believe you." He stood, walking over to where you were still sprawled out on the floor like some sort of tragedy-stricken poet. "You are forgiven."

You blinked up at him, suddenly feeling a rush of relief. You stood, brushing yourself off and giving him a lopsided grin. "Thanks, Lilia. I missed you."

But just as you were about to revert back to normal, Lilia's expression shifted—his amusement fading into something softer, something deeper. His hands, usually light and playful, gently gripped your arms as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart ache.

“Though,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, “there’s something I need to say.”

You blinked, tilting your head as he continued. "Your recklessness... it scares me sometimes," he admitted, his playful tone gone, replaced with genuine vulnerability. "I’ve seen too much, lost too much over the years. And I worry. I worry that one day, you’ll be the one I lose. And I can’t... I can’t stand the thought of that.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he kept going, his grip tightening slightly. “I’ve lived for so long, but you—you’re the brightness in this endless existence. I never thought I’d find someone like you. And now that I have, the thought of you being the one that got away—” He shook his head, his voice faltering. “It terrifies me. So I’m begging you… stay. Stay with me. Forever.”

Your heart clenched at his words. It was rare for Lilia to be this open, this raw. He always wore his playful mask, but right now, that mask had completely fallen away, leaving only the ancient fae who had seen too much and was so afraid of losing more.

Without thinking, you surged forward and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly. "I’m not going anywhere, Lilia," you whispered into his shoulder, squeezing him as hard as you could. "I promise. As long as you’ll have me, I’m staying."

He clung to you, his small frame surprisingly strong as he hugged you back, as though afraid that if he let go, you might disappear. You could feel his breath hitch, and you pulled back just enough to look at him, your heart breaking at the sight of the unshed tears in his eyes.

Gently, you leaned in and began peppering his face with soft kisses—on his cheeks, his closed eyelids, his lips. “I love you more than words can express, Lilia Vanrouge,” you murmured between kisses. “I’m sorry for being petty, for making you worry. I’m staying. Forever.”

Lilia smiled through his tears, leaning into your affection, his fingers gently brushing your hair as he held you close. “You’re far too good to me,” he whispered, his voice a little shaky. “Thank you.”

You hugged him tightly again, resting your head against his shoulder, and for a long moment, the two of you simply stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms. The fight seemed so far away now, the pettiness and stubbornness replaced with a warmth that filled you both from the inside out.

After a while, Lilia pulled back just enough to look at you, his usual mischievous grin finally returning to his face. “Though, I have to admit, your dramatic apology was rather impressive. I might have to start a new trend of grandiose reconciliations.”

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in days. “Don’t get any ideas. I don’t think I could top that performance.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Lilia teased, pulling you in for another kiss. “I’ll handle the dramatics from now on.”

And with that, you melted into his arms once again, the fight nothing but a distant memory as you basked in the warmth of each other’s love.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #trey clover x reader #trey x reader #rook x reader #rook hunt x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie x reader #jade x reader #jade leech x reader #kalim x reader #kalim al asim x reader #lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader

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livinghalfway · 1 month ago

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Younger Years Pt. 3

Part 2

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 1664

The next morning when Damian woke up everyone was much more prepared to deal with his inevitable attack. The restraint on his ankle and Alfred the cat still napping on him helped deal with most of the initall anger that radiated off him though. The goal right now was to convince Damian that he had been de-aged, and all he needed to do was stay with them until the magic wore off.

The topic of Danyal would come later, for now they needed to focus on Damian.

Everyone had also prepared an item to show Damian to prove to him that they were telling the truth about his current situation. Alfred was first and had brought him a cup of tea the exact way the young boy preferred when he had first joined them at the manor. Duke showed Damian his school yearbook, and had marked which pages had an older Damian in them. Jason rummaged through the art room and pulled out a few old sketchbooks.

Those had done well enough to calm the baby assassin down so that Bruce was able to explain the details to the young Damian. Which only served to make him think that instead of this being a test from his grandfather it was actually a scheme to draw him away from his birthright as one of the heirs to the demon head.

To help further convince him Tim printed out the first DNA test they had done with Damian; making sure to note that the dates on these can’t be altered. Then Dick had showed him photos of him dressed in his Robin costume. What was strange though is that Damian didn’t look pridefully at the photos, only confused.

Finally it was Bruce’s turn and no one was surprised when it turned out to be a family photo album. It was filled with photos of everyone from the last few years. Pictures of both big and small moments that the family had gone through. What was surprising though is when Damian practically exploded with rage with every page he turned.

“Chum, is something wro-” Bruce tries to start once he sees how affected the photo album is making him. Only for said book to be launched at his head before he can finish speaking.

“Get out!” Damian snarls as his eyes dart to everyone around the room as he repeats his words, “Get out!”

“I told you this wasn’t going to work.”

“Not now, Jason.”

Dick makes an obvious move of wanting to comfort Damian, but is clearly holding himself back knowing that his succor would only make things worse. “Dami…”

“You do not have the right to call me that,” Damian's breath starts to speed up with tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “The only one that will ever be allowed to use that name has apparently been long absent from my life. So I will repeat myself only once more; get out.”

No one makes any move to leave at first and it isn’t until Tim clears his throat as well as putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder does the others finally move. It takes both Duke and Tim to get Bruce out of the room, and Jason ends up having to practically drag Dick out.

“Why did you pull me away from him! He was clearly on the verge of a breakdown based around the fact that Danyal, his twin, never came here with him! Damian needs someone to be with him right now!” Dick angrily breaks out of Jason's hold on him.

Jason, immediately matching Dick’s tone retorts, “Since when has that kid ever liked having family much less strangers comfort him? Cause newsflash Dickiebird that what we are to him right now, nothing but strangers who are trying to act way too familiar with him. The only thing your sympathy will do right now is just make things worse!”

“I’m not going to let my currently 6 year old baby brother mourn a death by himself!”

“We don’t actually know if Danyal is dead or not right now. Just that he didn’t arrive with Damian at the manor 4 years ago.” Tim interjects before any more arguing between the two can continue. “For all we know Ra’s could have sent one twin away to here while keeping the other involved with the league.”

“Wouldn’t have Damian said something by now if that was the case? He obviously cared a lot for Danyal.” Duke honestly doesn’t know what the right decision is right now, but he’s more inclined to agree with Jason right now.

Tim runs a hand through his hair in thought, “14 year old Damian, maybe. The Damian that first arrived at the manor four years ago, no way. Especially if he was told explicitly not to say anything. That little brat was still deep in the league mindset, and would have done anything Talia or Ra’s said.”

“Wouldn’t have Ra’s already used Danyal against Bruce though? He’s had plenty of opportunities to use the knowledge of a second child to get B to do practically anything for him. What possible scenario would he be saving that information for?” Dick at this point seems to have calmed down. He’s still obviously wanting to be with Damian, but also knows that Jason is right about how his presence wouldn’t be appreciated at the moment.

Jason instead of offering any answers to Dick’s questions turns to direct his lingering anger at Bruce, “You’re being awfully fucking quiet right now B, what do you have to say about all this?”

“... I think it’s time to call Talia. I wanted to wait and give Damian the chance to explain himself before doing so, but if the league does still have Danyal we need to start planning his rescue as soon as possible.”

After asking the boys to keep an eye on Damian, and to check in on him every once in a while without distressing him more Bruce headed upstairs towards his office. Once there he silently stares at the phone in his hand.

It had been devastating to learn that he had a son, and missed out on so much of his life. Bruce had been angry at Talia, furious even, especially when she had raised Damian to be a child assassin. To learn that she had done this not once but twice shattered him. Even more so when he thinks about how his second son might still be a part of that life when he could have been living here with him instead.

The alternative to that thought though, the unfortunate more likely option, is that Danyal is dead.

That he had failed yet another child.

Bruce presses the number and puts the phone to ear. With each unanswered ring he sees flashes of what could have been if both boys had arrived that day. What was Danyal even like? Was he similar to Damian, or was he the complete opposite?

“Beloved, what a pleasant surprise hearing from you.”

“I know about Danyal.” Bruce leans back in his chair with his eyes closed. Today has already been exhausting, and he knows that it’s not going to get any better anytime soon. “What happened to him?”

The amount of silence that follows tells him that for maybe the first time he has truly shocked Talia with his words. Eventually though she answered, sorrow clear as day in her voice, “How much do you know?”

“I’d rather you tell me what you know right now.”

“Danyal died two weeks before Damian was sent to live with you.”

There it was, the hard truth. A child that he was never given the chance to hold, to meet, and to love was dead. Bruce had nothing to hold onto from a child that died way too young.

“My Father and Damian are the only ones that truly know what happened in that room; I didn’t even know at the time that he had pulled the two of them from their afternoon studies.” She continues softly, “By the time I reached them Danyal was gone. I imagine Ra’s wanted to make an example out of him because he had put his body into the pits … only he never came back out. The pits had even taken his body with them.”

“Did you never question what happened to him?”

“Ra’s told me it was none of my concern when I questioned him, and he forbade Damian from telling me himself. He had all evidence of Danyal erased after that; he only exists now in the memory of those who knew him.”

“Would you have ever told me about him?”

“No.”

“Hm.” Bruce doesn’t do anything more than acknowledging her response before hanging up, and putting the phone down. He wasn’t going to get any more information out of her, and he had more important things to focus on right than interrogating Talia. It seems they’re all just going to have to wait for Damian to learn what happened to Danyal anyway.

For now though he needs to go back downstairs and make sure they haven’t exploded into chaos due to his absence, but as he exits his office he makes a quiet promise to himself and Danyal. “Even in death you will be a part of this family; I’m so sorry you will never get the chance to know just how much they already love you.”

Once he reaches the batcave once more he sees Tim and Duke at the computer, Jason laid back with his feet on the center table, and Dick leaning by the med bay door. All of them though stop what they’re doing and look towards him as he enters; waiting for him to tell them what has become of the brother they’ve never met.

“Danyal is dead.” It hurts to watch his sons lose what little hope they had that maybe by the end of this their brother would be coming home.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #dc x dp crossover #batfam #damian and danny are twins #dc x dp prompt #dcxdpdabbles #danyal al ghul #angst #de-aged damian wayne

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lilreidgirl · 2 months ago

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Perfect

Summary: You`re insecure and your boyfriend, Spencer, thinks the absolute world of you, he trys everything to make you see what he sees.

Warnings: fem!reader, insecure reader, bad body image, comparing to fictional charecters, kissing, hurt/comfort?, not proof read, if i forgot anything; let me know, English is not my first language

WC: ~1k

A/N: I won`t be posting for about the next two weeks cause i have three exams, once exam season finally ends, Ill be able to post my many ideas that just seem to keep on coming. Until then, here`s a short Spence hurt/comfort fic MWAH

Perfect.

A word that feels as foreign to me as an alien language. It’s something I’m definitely not. No one is perfect, of course. But I feel like I’m standing several miles farther from it than most.

Spencer calls me a lot of things: beautiful, pretty, cute, smart, hot, exquisite, funny, tantalizing, sexy, insatiable. The list is endless. If it’s complimentary, he’s said it at some point.

Except perfect.

Spencer is a man of science and logic, and logic dictates that perfection doesn’t exist. It’s an unattainable ideal, a concept too flawless to have a place in a messy world like ours. And yet, standing next to him—this near-perfect person—I feel the ache of falling so much shorter than the mark.

There are people, though, who seem to come dangerously close.

One of the many things I love about Spencer is his love for books. He reads endlessly, often with the same devotion he gives to solving puzzles or understanding the human mind. He’ll bury himself in stories until his eyes droop, refusing to let fatigue stop him from finishing just one more chapter. And I know the women in those books, how they’re described: Silky hair, impossibly soft skin, hypnotic eyes, lips meant to be kissed, figures sculpted to perfection, and smiles bright enough to light up the darkest corners.

That’s what perfection looks like, isn’t it?

It’s certainly not me.

I see myself every day in the mirror. No silky hair here—just strands that seem to have their own rebellious personality, refusing to fall in place no matter what I do. My skin? Far from flawless. My eyes? Ordinary, nothing mesmerizing about them. My lips are… lips. Not the kind poets write about. My body? Just a body. Functional. Unremarkable. My smile doesn’t light up rooms; at most, it’s enough to convey, Hi, I’m friendly, please don’t ask me for directions.

Yet somehow, here I am, dating Spencer Reid—a man who feels carved by the hands of something divine. It’s almost painful, how unfairly beautiful he is. I’ve searched for his flaws, scoured every inch of his personality, his quirks, his habits. Nothing. If they’re there, they’re too small for me to see. He’s just… him. Perfect in all the ways that I’m not.

Two soft knocks on the door break me out of my spiraling thoughts. They’re gentle yet deliberate, spaced so perfectly it feels like they were timed with precision. Of course, they were. This is Spencer we’re talking about. Even his knocks are perfect.

I drag myself toward the door, feeling the weight of my imperfections in every step. My fingers fidget with the hem of my sweater as I go. It’s oversized and rumpled, the fabric hanging well past my wrists. My sweatpants cling stubbornly to my thighs but sag around my ankles. I’m a mess, right down to the fluffy socks that glide across the floor I haven’t bothered to clean in three weeks.

When I open the door, the sight of him steals my breath as it always does. Spencer.

His hair is perfectly disheveled, a chaotic tumble of curls that somehow looks intentional. His features are sharp, striking, and utterly unfair. His eyes hold the kind of depth that makes you feel like he sees every part of you, even the parts you’d rather keep hidden.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft and warm, and that smile—the one that makes me feel like I’m standing in the sun—graces his lips.

“Hey,” I manage, though my voice feels embarrassingly small in comparison.

“I missed you so much,” he says, stepping inside before I can respond. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me into a hug that feels like home. He lifts me slightly, spinning us in a slow circle, and I can’t help but laugh softly at the gesture.

“Me too,” I whisper, the words barely audible as my lips brush against his neck. When he sets me down, I press a kiss to his lips. It’s brief but firm, enough to feel the spark between us ignite.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes roaming my face. His pupils are wide, the dim light of my apartment making them expand until they almost swallow the brown of his irises. He looks at me like I’m something precious, something worth studying and memorizing.

“God,” he breathes, his voice low and filled with something I can’t quite name. “You’re perfect.”

The air leaves my lungs. For a moment, it feels like the world has tilted on its axis. I open my mouth to respond, but the words won’t come. My thoughts are spinning, but all I can focus on is him, standing here, calling me perfect.

Could perfection exist after all? Maybe it does. Maybe it’s right here in front of me, holding me, looking at me like I’m something extraordinary.

Or maybe perfection isn’t about appearances. Maybe it’s about this feeling—this warmth that spreads through me whenever Spencer is near. Maybe it’s about the way he sees me, flaws and all, and still calls me something I never thought I could be.

Perfect. That’s him.

Perfect. The word he used to describe me.

Perfect. The way I feel, despite my imperfections, whenever I’m with him.

I blink back the tears threatening to spill, a soft laugh escaping my lips as I finally find my voice. “Mm… so are you,” I whisper, leaning into him as his arms tighten around me.

And in that moment, I believe it. I believe that maybe, just maybe, perfection isn’t about being flawless. Maybe it’s about being loved by someone who makes you feel like you are.

@emma-e-a

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds comfort #spencer reid comfort #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x you #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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i-cant-sing · 10 months ago

Text

TIME TRAVELER AU PT 2

Original post/idea here. Part 1 is here. Part 3 is here.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

I fucked up.

You thought as you sat on the bed, holding your head in your hands.

I fucked up so baaaaaad.

Not only have you healed Baldwin of his leprosy, forever changing history of the LEPER KING, but also managed to somehow be his bride. To make matters EVEN worse, you cant just up and leave right now because you dont know the disastrous effects it'll have on the future now that Baldwin wont die of leprosy, which means that the kingdom of Jerusalem wont fall to Salauddin and his muslim army and after that its just a domino effect.

You tried to view your options here.

I stay here, marry Baldwin and fuck up the fabric of time and space because how can someone from the future marry someone from the past? Wouldnt I cease to exist?

I leave, return to my time where authorities arrest me for fucking around with time- that is, if I even exist in the future now that I've altered history. Who knows if my ancestors survived/were born after this?

No. Neither option is good. I need to stay here and fix this. But in a way that i dont draw too much attention to myself so that im so insignificant that nobody remembers, let alone writes about me in the history books.

You were drawn out of your thoughts with someone knocking on your door. "Come in." You said, straightening yourself.

A couple of servants walked in, all women. "Princess Y/n." They all courtesied. "We've been sent here by his majesty to prepare you for dinner with him."

Princess? Ah yes. Only a couple of hours ago, Baldwin had proposed to you, I guess the concept of asking wasnt a thing here as he just slipped on the big beautiful ring on your finger.

You narrowed your eyes at them. "First of all, Im not a princess. You will address me as Y/n only. And secondly, Im not going to join him for dinner, so there's no need to prepare me" The maids all shared a look of confusion before the head servant spoke.

"But we cant address you as anything else until you wed the king, after which you will be our queen, princess."

"Didnt I just tell you not to call me princess? Just call me Y/n!" The head maid shook her head. "Princess, we can not do that. If we do, then we would be punished. And we must prepare you for dinner with his majesty!" The maids moved ahead to start helping you but you raised a hand, halting them.

"I said, no." You said sternly.

"What... what will we tell the king, princess? He's expecting you-"

"Tell him i cant come because Im sic- no, Im not feeling well and Id like to be alone." You cant say "sick" in this era, because that means "death sentence" here and you dont want to be fretted over and bring attention to yourself as "the king's fiancee got SICK!". Besides, you do need to be away from Baldwin as much as possible and have some time to plot your moves.

You had pulled out your notebook and began writing out dates and historic events of this era to plan your escape. You're trying to find some sort of shortcut where Baldwin gets sick again and dies, leaving his kingdom in the hands of his sister and brother in law, who will bring its downfall-

Someone knocked on your door gently. "Princess?" You quickly hid your notebook. "Come in."

Baldwin walked inside and towards you, eyes worried as they scanned you up and down.

"I heard you're not feeling well?" He asked and before you had a chance to back away, he had cupped your cheeks in his hands tenderly. "What's wrong? Shall I fetch the royal physician?"

"No." You replied with your face smushed in his hands. "I'm fine." You pulled your face away his large hands.

Confusion spread through his blue orbs. "Then why did you not join me for dinner?" He asked, using a hand to push your hair over your ear, not taking the hint that you didn't want him touching you.

"I just-" what possible excuse could you come up with that would be both effective and not insulting enough to have your head chopped off. "you- you dont care about me."

Baldwin looked at you in bewilderment. "I dont... care about you? Princess, how can you say that?" He tried to cup your cheek again but you backed away before he could, putting on a face of hurt.

"How can I not? You dont care about what I want, or even ask me what I need?" You feingned pain in your voice, turning away from him for dramatic effect.

He grabbed your shoulders and turned you towards him, his pupils grew wide as if trying to search for what it is that you need. "My love, what do you want? Just say the word, and I'll give it to you."

You looked down, again for the theatrics, and Baldwin lifted your chin. "Go on."

"You never- never asked me to marry you."

"Huh? But I did today-"

"No, you stated it- demanded I marry you." You furrowed your brows and looked down again.

Baldwin smiled. Of course, how could he have not asked you? You were a girl after all, you want to be courted the traditional way. Its not your fault that you dont know that kings do not ask permission for things. They just get it, because who would refuse to marry a king?

He kissed your forehead, lifting your chin again to meet his eyes. "Im sorry, princess. I shouldve asked." He took your hands in his and had that charming smile again. "Will you marry me, Y/n?"

"No." You shook your head. "I... I cant marry you, your majesty." You said, adding tears into your eyes. His brows furrowed in concern.

"What? Why?" You tried pulling your hands away but he didnt let go, tightening his grip ever so slightly.

"I-" well, you could say that youre not catholic and the church would never let you two get married, but you also dont wanna be tortured for being a "heretic". Maybe religious differences could be the last plan. Taking your silence as hesitance, Baldwin spoke. "I can offer you everything and more. Jerusalem would be yours. What is it that I lack that anyone else could offer?"

"I am not a good match for you!" Ah yes, lets do the typical "its not you, its me." You bit your lip as you yanked your hands out of his and walked towards the window, your back to him (theatrics). "You and I are not equals- no we are nowhere close! Youre a king, your father was a king, your family is royalty. I come from nothing, as did my ancestors. There will never be stability in our marriage when we come from such different backgrounds!" You never thought that you would be putting yourself down and call yourself "inferior" to break up with a man.

Silence hung in the air, as you held your breath.

"Youre right." You heard him say behind you. "We are not equals, we never will be." For some reason, instead of being relieved, a chill ran down your spine. Baldwin wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder. "I may be a king, but youre far superior to me. You're an angel, sent to me by God, and you saved me. I wouldnt be king anymore if you werent here, princess."

Warmth spread from your cheeks to the tip of your ears, both due to the close proximity and his words. Sensing your bashfulness, he chuckled, kissing your cheek as he turned you around to face him. You could hear your own heart beat at how close he was.

Baldwin tilted his head, half lidded eyes staring at you. "Youre everything and more that I could ask for, princess. Never put yourself down and compare yourself to me, hm?" He said, giving your arms a gentle squeeze before moving away, but not detaching himself completely as he took ahold of your hand and looked back at you.

"Now that this is settled, let us go eat. I've had the servants prepare a feast for us and then we can discuss wedding arrangements-" shit shit shit shit shit fuck it!

"I'm not catholic!" Baldwin halted at that. You've already said it, might as well dig yourself a deeper hole. You let the tears form in your eyes. "Im... Muslim. I didnt tell you because I didnt want you to think I was working for Salauddin and spying on you for him, you know I wasnt! I really did only want to know about you. Please believe me, I wasnt-"

"I believe you."

What? Just like that.

"You- you believe me?" You breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Once again, Im sorry i didnt tell you I was a Muslim, but dont worry, I'll pack my things and leave tonight-"

"Why? We still have to get married."

You blinked slowly. "But... Im Muslim?"

Baldwin shrugged. "So? It doesnt change anything."

You looked at him in bafflement. "It does! It changes everything! We cant get married! Im a Muslim! The church wont allow interfaith marriages, and I dont intend on converting to catholicism either if thats what youre suggesting!"

"I am not suggesting that. You can be a muslim if you want to, but we're still getting married." Baldwin stated matter of factly.

"The church wont allow it-"

"The church will do as I say. I am the head of the church. Besides-" He smiled.

"I dont remember angels having to prove themselves to be a catholic. You saved my life, you cured my incurable disease. As far as the church is concerned, youre a miracle sent to me by God. Youre the Chosen One!"

Is he... is he hearing himself? Can you try to convince him?

"But... but Jerusalem deserves a Catholic Queen-" you tried weakly, but he cupped your cheek and smiled gently at you.

"I am Jerusalem, Y/n. And I deserve you." Was all he said before pecking your forehead.

He tugged you along with him. "Now, we have to eat."

You dont want to eat. You want to stay behind and think of another strategy because clearly you cant talk yourself out of this wedding.

"I'm- I'm not hungry." You said, making him frown.

"How is that possible? You havent had anything since morning. I dont want you getting sick before the wedding." Baldwin continued to pull you along.

Does he not listen?

"I dont want to eat- I- dont feel like it." You said a bit harshly this time, hoping he'd take the hint.

And he did, finally stopping. He sighed and let go of your hand. "Okay. I suppose if you really dont want to, we can skip dinner tonight." Fucking finally. "Its just... I seem to have developed a habit of enjoying meals with you. And now that my leprosy is cured and I have no more diet restrictions, I just- I had the kitchen prepare some of my favourite dishes that I was able to enjoy before my disease disabled me."

You stared at him. Is he- is he trying to guilt trip you? Baldwin once told you that due to leprosy he had ulcers in his mouth, and he couldnt eat different types of food, and was only able to have bland, soft goo.

You looked away from his big sad eyes. He's not getting to you. You need to go back to your room, make yourself scarce, be far away from him as often as possible.

"You can still go and eat dinner alone."

With one hand, he cupped your cheek. "Princess, you know I cant eat until you eat too. But its okay, if you dont want to eat, then I wont too. I guess I'll just have the servants finish the chicken roast and oh-! They even made strawberry cream cake for dessert. But- maybe another day."

You looked into his eyes, those blue orbs that were filled with sadness, resembling a kid who was just told "no candy!"

Sighing, you held his hand. "Maybe I can have a few bites."

His face lit up. Ah, he knew you'd come around. "Lets go!"

The next day, youre helped by the maids to get ready for the day. Apparently, Sibylla wanted to meet you and discuss some things, and you suspect she wants to talk about the wedding preprations.

The maids had prepared your bath and were very insistent on washing you themselves but you made them all leave the bath chambers. Finally, they compromised when you told them that they could dress you up if they wait outside.

Setting your old clothes on the bed, you entered the bathroom and settled into the warm water. The essential oils and flower petals soothed your mind and body, and you finally had some desperately needed silence to hear your own thoughts.

Last night at dinner, Baldwin was very- well, "happy" would be an understatement to how he felt near you. And all those forehead kisses and skin contact doesnt go unnoticed by you either. You suppose that since he had leprosy, he never really had or was allowed to touch anyone else. But now that hes cured, all thanks to your dumb ass, he craves the physical intimacy.

You closed your eyes as you sank deeper into the warm water. Gosh, did I really have to give him the water? Had I not done that, he would still be ridden with lepro-

Your eyes snapped open. Thats it. You just have to make sure he never drank your water in the first place! Yes! You can go back in time and sure, its always dangerous to go back in the same time period more than once, but you really dont have any other option now, do you?

After half an hour, you finally exited the bathroom and the maids practically ushered you to sit in the chair as they finally, FINALLY got to dress up the future queen of Jerusalem and after a whole hour, they're finally done. And... well you look good. Your hair has been done nicely, and a delicate golden headpiece, almost like a elegant hair band sits on top of your head. They added some color to your cheeks and lips with crushed berries. As for your clothes, they dressed you in a dark blue tunic with loose, flowing sleeves. The tunic itself was made of silk, probably brought in from the Byzantine empire and was only available to the upperclass of this time.

"I am not wearing those!" You said when they opened the jewellery boxes. There were diamonds and other precious stones adorning the earrings and necklaces.

"But princess, you must wear these. It is royal protocol for the king's bride to be, and the future queen to wear the royal jewels." The head maid said. She doesnt know that you dont plan on sticking around and if you leave wearing these jewels, who knows what havoc would that cause?

"No. I dont want to wear them."

The maids shared a look of concern. "What?" You asked them.

"Its just... his majesty picked these out for you himself. He would be mad at us if you were not wearing these." One of the younger servants spoke as she fumbled with her fingers. Through the mirror, you looked at everyone's worried expression. You doubt that someone as calm and collected as Baldwin would lose his marbles over his fiancee not wearing jewellery.

"I dont think the king would be mad at you if I dont wear some jewellery. He isnt one to get angry that easily, you know?" You said chuckling, but it died when you saw them share the same concerned looks again. This time, you turned away from the mirror to look at them directly. "What? Go on, no secrets."

Another maid mustered up the courage to mumble. "Well- it's just- the king- I mean- his majesty is calm but um-" she paused to look at the other maids for help but they all avoided eye contact. "Out with it." You said a bit sternly.

"His majesty... gets... emotional- yes, emotional! When it comes to matters concerning you."

"Emotional? What do you mean? Speak clearly, no word will get out of this room, I promise." You spoke all while glaring at the other maids to make them silently comply to not tattle on their friend.

The maid bit her lip. "His majesty... gets mad when he thinks that you're not being treated well." You gave her a look to continue. "A few weeks back, while you were strolling out in the garden, his majesty reprimanded some of his knights for not escorting you. He asked them why they weren't guarding you?"

A few weeks back? It may have made some sense for Baldwin to be protective of his bride to be, but you two weren't engaged until yesterday. And before that, his relationship with you was barely platonic, more like a king-servant thing.

"Tell her about the kitchen incident too." Another maid whispered.

"What kitchen incident?"

"Um, 2 months ago, when the kitchen had prepared a feast for his majesty, he almost fired the entire kitchen staff for serving olives with the entree." You gave them a quizzical look. "Well, his majesty had told them that you can't eat olives and had told them not to include it in the palace's food. But it was a feast to celebrate his victory and the staff thought it'd be best to add olives because the king likes them."

Your eyes widened at that. He almost fired the kitchen staff because you said you can't eat olives? I mean, it's not like you're deathly allergic, you just didn't like how tart they were and when Baldwin saw you picking them out on your plate, all you could manage to blurt out was that you can't eat them. Perhaps, he thought you had diet restrictions like him.

You huffed. That still didnt warrant such a reaction from him. "That isn't nice. Don't worry, I'll talk to him."

The maid looked at you in horror. "No! I mean, his majesty would not like that we- um..." she tried to come up with appropriate words that wouldn't be insulting. Her scrunched up face as she thought hard made you giggle.

"Fine, fine. I won't say anything to him. You have my word." You said, smiling at them assuringly.

The head maid then held out the pearl necklace to you. You sighed and nodded, and they all cheered as they started picking out the jewels for you.

Its okay. You told yourself. I can always drop them somewhere before time travelling.

As soon as you were dressed, one of Sibylla's lady-in-waiting came to fetch you. She hurried you, saying something along the lines of "you must see princess Sibylla right away!" And you couldn't stop her from pulling you along, so time travelling will have to wait.

"Princess Sibylla needs to see you right away, princess!" The maid said as she pulled you towards a room. Knocking on it, the door swung open and you were met with the sight of different gowns hanging on dummies with maids tending to them, and right in the center of the room was Sibylla, practically jumping on her heels.

"Y/n!" She yelled out as she ran towards you and engulfed you in a hug before her lady in waiting, the same one standing beside you, cleared her throat. It caught Sibylla's attention who gasped softly before backing away and immeadiately giving you a courtesy. "I mean, princess Y/n." You gave a nasty look to the lady in waiting before shaking your head at an embarrassed Sibylla. "You don't need to courtesy to me, princess Sibylla."

She immeadiately beamed. "Of course I do! You're not going to be just my sister in law, you're also going to be Queen of Jerusalem! Of course i bow to you."

Me, a queen? Yeah, we'll see about that.

"Still, I consider us friends before anything else." You offerer her a small smile. "You called for me?"

"Oh? Oh, yes!" She immeadiately grabbed your hand and pulled you further into the room. "I didn't know what colours and material you preferred, so I ordered them to bring everything with the best seamstresses in kingdom!" She pointed at the seamstresses, who bowed to you.

"But... I don't need clothes. I already have a wardrobe." Your statement made Sibylla laugh as did a few of her hand maidens.

"Ahh, you're so naive!" Sibylla giggled. "That wardrobe doesn't exist anymore. You're a princess, soon to be queen, you need a royal wardrobe!" She said as she dragged her hand over one of the gowns, feeling the material. "And! You still have to select your bridal gown!"

For the next 3 hours, Sibylla had the maids show you different gowns and materials, even helping by giving her input as to what would suit you.

"I still like my old clothes, they're quite comfortable." You sighed. Designing your new wardrobe was not something that needed your urgent attention at the moment. You need to return to your room and get the time machine from your old dress and leave this era.

Sibylla nods. "I understand what you're going through. I still remember how they burned away my entire wardrobe when I married Guy. But I suppose its poetic in a way. Since you're starting a new life, so why not start one by getting new clothes!"

Wait.

"They burnt all your old clothes?" Sibylla nods. "Mmhmm! In a way, you're burning away your past! And starting a new-" You didn't stick around as you immeadiately rushed out of the room and made your way towards your own.

You can't- your old clothes has your time machine. If they burn it, you can't ever leave!

You burst into your room, looking at the empty spot on your bed where you'd left your clothes before going in the bath.

"No." The maids, they must've put it in your closet. You searched it, searched your entire room but to no avail.

A maid walked into your room, watching you tear apart the bedroom. "P-princess? May I help-"

"Where are my clothes?!" You walked upto her, the poor maid's fright apparently on her face. "WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES!?"

"They- they're burning it-"

"WHERE?!"

"The gardens!"

You ran out of your room, and made your way towards the royal gardens as fast as you could, but with how huge this palace was, getting there took a while. Not to mention when you did get to the gardens, you didn't spot anyone there, but you did notice the smell of something burning, which lead you to the back of the gardens, that was away from everyone's sight.

There you found them, two maids burning your clothes in a small bonfire.

"PUT IT OUT!" You yelled as you rushed towards them, startling them.

"Princess-" they began bowing.

"Didn't you hear me? PUT THE FIRE OUT!" They scrambled about trying to find some water, but of course, they didn't have it.

"I'll get it from the fountain!" The two maids ran to get a bucket of water for you, but it would be too late by the time they came. So when you spotted your old dress burning, you pulled it out with bare hands, not caring about burning yourself.

The dress was mostly burnt to ashes, while only few bits remained that were still on fire. You managed to wrangle out your time machine out of it, the small metal box that was burning hot and left marks on your skin as you tried to hold it.

But even from here, you could see the damage was done. The area that displayed the year had now completely melted off, as did some of the buttons.

No. No. No. No. No. NO!

You couldn't help but cry as reality began to set in. You're stuck here.... you're stuck here forever.

Heart wrenching sobs wracked your body as you tried to hold the hot metal machine in your hands, your skin burning as you tried. Even when the servants came and poured the water on the fire, you still kept on crying, clutching your machine to your chest, partly to conceal it, partly from helplessness.

The maids looked at each in worry as they tried to console you, tried to pacify you, lest you had them executed. But it didn't matter, you were inconsolable. While one of the maids sat by your side, trying to soothe you, the other one ran in to get help.

Moments later, when you were able to hide the machine in your clothes again, someone came up and touched your shoulder from behind.

"Y/n?" You looked up through your tears. It was Baldwin. For some reason, seeing him only made you cry harder as you finally realised that you were stuck here with him. That you fucked up permanently.

"Oh princess. What's wrong? Don't cry- shhh, I'm here." He pulled your body towards him, letting you sob into his chest heartbreakingly. Exhaustion, frustration and shock must have overtook your body, as you fainted in his arms.

"Princess? Y/n?" He tried waking you up before collecting you in his arms and rushing back into the castle.

Hours later, you woke up to find yourself back in your room, lying in your bed. Your eyes looked down at your hands which were now wrapped in bandages. They only served as a reminder of what youd lost- your time machine.

Tears welled up in your eyes again. Am I- am I really stuck here? You sniffled.

A hand came up to caress your cheek, startling you.

It was Baldwin. "Princess? Do you want to tell me what happened?" His soft tone made you even more sad, and you raised your bandaged hands to wipe your tears, but he caught your wrists and lowered them back gently, using his own hands to wipe away the tears.

"No, you cant use your hands for sometime. The burns need to heal." His hand remained on your cheek, thumb caressing the area under your eye. "What happened, Y/n? Why were you so upset?"

You cant avoid the topic for long, and now that your way of escape is gone, you need to be careful of what you say and how you act around the king.

You let out a shaky breath. "They... they burned my clothes."

"Mmhm. Dont worry, I will have them bring in the fanciest clothes for you. Sibylla will make sure of it. Only the best for my princess." You shook your head. "Its not- its not that... They were my clothes... they burned away-"

"I know... but its a tradition. The maids burn away the bride-to-be's old clothes to signify that youre detaching yourself from the past and starting a new life." He explained, watching as you sniffled. Clearly, you were still upset over this.

"But the maids, they still should've informed you of this tradition before doing anything. I know how emotional of a transition this could be for girls." You nodded sadly, heart still sinking at the loss of your machine. "Dont worry though, they will be punished harshly for it. I have them in the dungeons tonight, and tomorrow-"

"What? Punished? No!" You cut him off. You dont want anyone to die because of you, especially when you dont know if anyone these people could potentially be an ancestor of yours.

"But they caused you harm. You burned yourself due to their-"

"No, no. Please, don't punish anyone- I- it was my fault for not knowing about royal traditions! Please, your Majesty, I beg you- don't do this- i- i-" You pleaded.

"Shhh, okay. Okay. I won't punish them for it." He patted your hair. "On one condition."

You looked at him in confusion.

"You call me Baldwin from now on." He grinned. "We are to be husband and wife soon, I don't want us to use royal titles with each other."

Your eyes widened. Is he- is he really giving up titles? You're not that blind to see his attempts at intimacy, but what you don't understand is why or even how you came to be on the receiving end of it.

What exactly is it about you that has made him want to marry you? Surely, Baldwin would've preferred to marry someone of this era, someone who is more compatible with him. Despite you trying to blend in the past months, you allowed Baldwin to see how you're not... as Conservative as most people of this time period are. One could say that he may be impressed by how intelligent you are than others, but it also brings up the factor of being "threatened" or "insulted" by the same intelligence.

Even though you consider beauty to be a "subjective" thing, the whole "beauty is in the eye of the beholder", you're not blind to how attractive others are. So why not them?

Did he only like you because you're intriguing? Does he still think you're a spy? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?

Probably. Or maybe he really does believe all that mumbo jumbo about you being "an angel sent to save him."

"As you wish... Baldwin."

Last night, after Baldwin had left you to rest, you stayed up and tried to figure out if you can fix your time machine, and if not, then can you built another one?

Fucking hell. You closed your eyes. I made it once, I can build it again. But it's easier said than done.

Back in the present, you had the technology to build it. Now? You have to first make the technology and the tools from scratch before you could even get on making your time machine, all while keeping your science project discrete, which was easier before because you weren't going to be married to a fucking King!

Right now, you're sitting in Baldwin's private dining room (yes, there are more than one dining room. He's royalty, what did you expect) having breakfast- well, being fed breakfast.

"You really don't need to do this." You said as Baldwin fed you another spoonful. He smiled as he wiped your lips with a napkin. "I don't need to, I want to. Besides, I don't want my princess starving."

Involuntary, your face flushed. "I- the maids could've fed me. And im not a princess." He frowned slightly. "Why would you- open wide, princess- why would you want the maids to feed you when you have me?" He pushed the spoon to your face as you parted your lips, but then he pulled it away and brought his face close to yours. "Do I make you nervous?"

You backed away immediately. "I- no- I mean-"

He burst out laughing. "I'm- I'm sorry princess, but you are just too endearing!" Baldwin chuckled as he grabbed the spoon again and fed you.

Your cheeks reddened, this time more out anger than embarrassment. "I don't want to eat anymore." You muttered, turning your face away.

He smiled as he brought the spoon to your lips again. "Ah ah, but you still haven't had enough." However, you rejected again, looking away instead of replying.

He sighed, placing the spoon back on the plate. "I'm sorry, princess. I shouldn't have laughed at you."

"You shouldn't have." You mumbled, face still turned away from him.

His lips quirked up a bit. "You know, for someone who insists that she's not a princess-" He turned your face to him gently. "- you sure have all the blandishment of one."

"Blandishment?"

"Flattering actions of a princess." He nodded.

You frowned. "Are you calling me a spoiled princess? A brat?"

"I would never!" Baldwin gasped. "I enjoy you acting like royalty, demanding respect and attention. You deserve it and more. Besides-" He picked up some food on the spoon again and brought it to your lips. "Even if if you were a spoiled, bratty princess, I wouldn't mind. I would enjoy spoiling you, hm?" He nudged the spoon to your lips softly.

You parted your lips, making him smile. It really is hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you with his baby blue eyes. They just- they draw you in.

"Also, before I forget, I will be leaving the castle today to meet Salauddin. So you can either hand out with Sibylla, who still wants to help you design your wedding gown, or your can-"

Salauddin? "Why are you meeting Salauddin? Isn't he your enemy?"

He chuckled. "Only on the battlefield. He and I have developed a friendship, or a mutual respect over the years. As to why I'm going to meet him, is... well, you."

"Me?" He nodded. "Since you told me that you're a Muslim, I thought that we could perhaps have a discreet Islamic wedding- what is it called? Nikkah? So, I could go and learn more about it from Salauddin."

You opened your mouth to protest. You don't need to be part of history as the "king of Jerusalem's Muslim wife" or "the Muslim-Christian wedding that took place during the Crusades", even if it might make the world more progressive.

But then, you didn't protest. "Can I come?"

Baldwin raised a brow at you. "You want to meet Salauddin?" You shook you're head. "Well, no, not really. I mean, I don't mind meeting him, but I just want to get out of the castle for a bit. It's been months since i left this place, I just want to get some fresh air." This could be the perfect opportunity for you, because if memory serves you right, Muslims of this era had made significant advances in science. Maybe you can use their help to get some tools to make the time machine again.

Baldwin looked unsure. "I don't know if it would be safe for you-" you held his hand with your bandaged ones. "Please, Baldwin? Can't you take me with you? And wouldn't I be the most safe when I'm with you?" Ah yes, stroke the male ego.

Finally, he smiled.

"Alright. I supposed it would be fine, after all, you should see the kingdom you're going to be the queen of."

Thoughts? (Also, I need to go shower rn, so I'll put the read more later. Doing so much effort for u guys, my spoiled greedy children)

Part 3 is here.

#yandere baldwin #yandere king baldwin #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x #yandere x darling #yandere #baldwin iv

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