#meanwhile all the pots are boiling over and when they finally turn around they’re only going to throw a tantrum about how unfair it is to

[multifandom-garbage-compactor]

Question for the void: how do you reinvent yourself when your efforts keep getting undone or get in the way of other things to the annoyance of others?

#I hope there’s not spyware on my phone or that someone has been going through it manually #y’all won’t even allow me to be stupid in private never mind that you let me know how irritating you find me whenever you can #it’s just the same same old same old and I’m beyond tired. it feels like there’s no growing or rising above this #like I’m just eating until I die. and even that I manage to do wrong. am I to blame for everything #(I realize that this is public but I havent been copying these so it’s too late to put these elsewhere) #I was a child once getting so many things wrong from the jump but how much can I blame on outside influence #and if it is my family’s fault then they’ve gotten away while I keep forgiving them and falling apart more each day #get a fucking pet instead and even then you’ll be disappointed that they’re not perfectly made to suit your mood and schedule #but god fucking damn it it has to be the dumbest heartless bitches that have kids and pat thrmselves on the back for a job well done #meanwhile all the pots are boiling over and when they finally turn around they’re only going to throw a tantrum about how unfair it is to #them. stop the press. dad missed his beauty sleep to get in the face of his quietly crying child and told them to be quiet and then sent the #problem upstairs to then rudely awake it for payback. nothing more. definitely not parenting. and you still walk around like a big man? #oh I would wish you worse than death but unlike you I still feel guilt and fear so you just get to keep wailing over the bare minimum and #never actually get your hands dirty or make up for lost ti #time. I just want it to be over. no more of this in the next life or just cut me out of existence entirely. don’t you dare do this to me #and I guess others again. I’m tired and have ruined my chances at life so don’t put me back in just so I can miss the point again and not #even have a way out. #gee was that too much

[morizoras-cave]

Manners (Request)

Sherlock x gn!child!reader, John x gn!child!reader

Genre: fluff

Request Description: Thank you for saying you’ll write for Sherlock, I appreciate it :) Could you do one where all the peeps are round for dinner (Sherly, Mycroft, Greg, John ect) and John invites his cousin round (like age 9) and she’s just like REALLY polite and even when Sherlock says something really mean from one of his deductions she just brush’s it off and forgives him for it and even Mycroft likes her (PURELY PLATONIC PEOPLE) and she asks to see the brains in the fringe and Sherlock is ECSTATIC

Warnings: none really

(A/N): the only warning here is really that i dont remember the sherlock characters THAT well. and ive totally forgotten who sherly is, so this fic must live without her hahaha

“Fuck,” John mumbled, looking at you at the entrance to 221B Baker Street. He had to take care of you today, and while he usually loved taking care of you, his niece, today was not the day he had expected. 

You were the most delightful and polite girl, your mannerisms just made everyone around you smile. But John did not want you to meet the careless, brutally honest, and genius Sherlock. But today, the one damned day where he had to take care of you, there was a dinner with Sherlock, Greg, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and Mycroft (the latter had with pleasure paid for it all).

“Language,” you said, giving him a warning glare. The action was enough to make him smile. His heart melted.

“Let’s go inside then,” he said reluctantly, deciding that there was nothing he could do about it. 

You entered the home, eyes glittering as you saw all the weird and unconventional items stacked on the shelves and furniture. You held your admiration, and politely brushed your shoes off on the mat, before taking them off. You then placed them in order, even taking the time to lightly push the others’ strewn-about shoes in a straight line.

John watched you with a smile. He had no idea how his aunt had produced such a person as you, but he was thankful for it. 

From the kitchen loud clattering and sizzling sounds came. Sherlock popped his head out, gaze first on John, then lowering to you. John took a deep breath, knowing he had to introduce you now. 

“This is Y/n. They’ve just turned-”

“9 years old..” Sherlock mumbled, looking a you with narrowed eyes. John sighed. You gave the sociopath a toothless smile.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m actually 9 and a half,” you walked up with him and then reached your tiny hand up for him to shake it. Sherlock looked at you, and you had no idea what he was thinking, but you hoped it was about shaking your hand. 

“Lower your hand, Y/n,” Sherlock said and disappeared behind the doorway to the kitchen. You lowered your hand slowly. John was already regretting bringing you over. “A nine year old’s hands? That’s an enormous number of bacteria I could gladly live without.”

“Nine and a half year old!” you called after him, but remained positive. It was his decision to not shake your hand, and it was your duty to respect that. 

You stepped further into the living room - or what was normally the living room, now just a room stuffed with a dining table that was too big for it. 

“I told you all we should’ve done this at a restaurant. Or my house. Or anywhere else, really,” Mycroft, you guessed, said from his place at the table. He had a very cat-like voice, you thought.

“Yes, well, now we’re here,” Mrs. Hudson (whom you’d met several times before, and who was always delighted to give you homemade cookies) argued. Just as she finished, you made your way up on your chair, greeting the guests with a smile. 

Currently seated was you, Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, Greg (the police officer John had told you about), and John who was settling down beside you. Sherlock and Molly were in the kitchen, and by the sound of it, they were making soup. 

“Aw, who’s this?” Greg asked, pointing at you. 

“Y/n. Y/n Watson reporting for duty!” you said proudly. The people around the table aww’ed. 

“They’re a charmer, huh?” Mycroft commented. John nodded at this.

“Soup’s coming in! Soup’s coming in!” Molly warned, carrying a rather heavy looking pot into the living room, holding it with some cloth. She placed it down with a ‘plunk’, and then sighed in relief. “Gosh, I thought I was gonna drop it all.” 

“You were statistically very likely to drop it, you’re very lucky,” Sherlock said as he entered, sitting down on his chair at the end of the table. Molly flushed and sat down as well. 

“Dig in!” she said and everyone did, hoisting some of the boiling-hot pea soup into their bowls. You made sure to compliment Molly on the soup, to which she smiled with a smile that mostly said wait-why-is-there-a-nine-year-old-here.

You kept a proper conversation with everyone at all times, making sure to bring in the quieter ones. Meanwhile, John was staring at you in adoration because you were simply overbearingly cute, but also because in his head it was very unlikely that you came from the same gene pool, yet here you were.

“She’s quite polite, this one. Children these days usually have no discipline, no manners,” Mycroft said at one point, and from what you had gathered throughout the evening, that was the closest thing to a compliment you would get from him. 

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes, but I think that kids my age can be very polite. Maybe you just don’t know the right kids!” you said, sipping your soup. Mycroft smiled and shook his head. Sherlock, who was sitting at the end of the table, soup untouched, seemed unamused. 

“Kids are dumb. Nine year olds are dumb. Gosh, people are dumb too, and you kids are just dumber versions of already dumb people,” he said finally.

Everyone at the table turned their heads towards you, wondering if you would snap and start yelling or crying. Instead, you snickered, putting your spoon down. 

“That’s a very bold statement, Mr. Holmes,” was all you said, and although you wanted to say more, you couldn’t stop snickering. Sherlock watched you, and you saw his face change. You couldn’t quite tell what it meant, but he didn’t retort. 

Slowly, people fell back into conversation, and so did you. The dinner was very pleasant, and you were happy to see that you had made a good impression. 

“So, Sherlock, you started cooking soup these days?” Greg pointed with his spoon to the pot, now only a quarter or so full. The noise of his spoon against the metal let out a hollow ‘clunk’. 

“No, no, I was in there supervising. Making sure Ms. Molly didn’t mess with my refrigerated brain.” 

At this, you gasped. 

“You have a brain?” you asked breathlessly, mouth wide open, and your hands on your cheeks in shock. Sherlock’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes, I do.”

“Can I see the brain, Mr. Holmes? Please, can I see your refrigerated brain, pretty please?” you begged, curiosity and adventurousness getting the better of you. 

John opened his mouth to protest, but Sherlock came first, with a small smile, that he didn’t seem aware was on his face: “Yes, of course!”

You tried to control yourself and not run into the kitchen, but your excitement was still very visceral. You were bouncing about, unable to stand still, and doing a little victory dance every once in a while. 

Sherlock opened the refrigerator theatrically, the light turning on and shining on you, as your eyes landed on the human brain. 

“Wooooooooow,” you squealed, “that’s so cool- I mean, that’s very impressive..” you could hardly contain your excitement, but Sherlock couldn’t either. No one was every excited about his brain (the one in the fridge, of course, the other was often a topic of interest). 

Sherlock then proceeded to give a full anatomical tour of the brain, taking it out and showing it to you up close, letting you hold it, and telling you all the facts. Meanwhile, John was having a mental breakdown, trying not to look. He knew very well that he would get in trouble with his aunt for this. 

“This is the frontal lobe. If you damage it, you become like me,” Sherlock said morbidly, showing the front part of the pink nerve. 

“That doesn’t sound all too bad, Mr. Holmes. You seem pretty cool,” you said passively, still fully entranced by the brain. Sherlock, however, took full note of this, eyes snapping to you immediately. He smiled. 

“Alright, I think it’s about time me and Y/n head home!” John said when he’d finally had enough. You were too polite to protest, so you just quite literally bowed to everyone and then left with John. 

When John came home later that night, after dropping you off back at his aunt’s place, Sherlock was still awake, brain in hand. 

“Uh, doesn’t that go back in the fridge?” John asked. 

“In a moment,” Sherlock responded. Then, “Why don’t they come over more? The kid.”

John looked at him in confusion. “Y/n? Why would I bring them over more?” 

Sherlock sighed, turning his attention from the brain. “I feel like I could give them good anatomical knowledge. Perhaps, teach them a bit about science and such.” 

There was a moment of silence and then John scoffed. 

“You really just want me to bring Y/n over, because they think you’re cool?” 

“That’s not at all what I said, John!” Sherlock protested, moving to put the brain back in the freezer. John sauntered off into his bedroom. 

“Whatever!” he said, and then the conversation was over.

But then, slowly, he started bringing you over more, each time letting Sherlock and you have your own weird conversations on life, people, biology and everything else. You become very rich in knowledge of science and anatomy, and in return Sherlock’s ego went through the roof. 

It was a fair trade, you decided, and you loved every moment of it. 

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @snarky–starky @garbage-potato @lozzypoz321 @rororo06 @shady80smusicsingercolor @ireadfanficforfun​ @deephideoutmilkshake​ @rae-is-typing​ @sophs-library​ @herecomesthewriterwitch​ @alicedanganh​ 

#sherlock x reader #john watson x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock cast x reader #sherlock fluff #sherlock angst #sherlock x you #sherlock x child!reader

[mangobilorian]

Falling | (mature) ii

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Genre: Fluff 

Words: 12,179

read first chapter

The jungle is sentient. Now, there’s no scientific proof that the jungle is actually alive, but it does seem to be out to get you. In fact, the land of Theatis 06 has thrown everything ungodly at you and the captain the second you woke up.

Firstly, the normally heavy rains of the jungle evolved into a full-on heavenly flood about an hour into your hike. Captain Rex had simply huffed in frustration and pushed forward. He, of course, expressed concern over you, but it was just water, so it was tolerable. Right? It was just water despite being thick and sticky and wet .

You had muttered your complaints for hours. You normally weren’t the type to be so bratty but the rain kept pouring like it had a vendetta against you. As the complaints kept pouring out your mouth, the captain—who was probably fed up from hearing you— offered to take a break.

“I’m fine, captain. Thank you for your concern.”

“You’ve been cursing a storm since we left the cave. Besides, it’s just water.” You glared at the back of his helmet.

“You’re in full armor. I’m in,” you flicked the bottom of your dress up, “a loose dress and a skin-tight under layer. You don’t get to say, ‘it’s just rain.’” But the captain merely laughed and offered a hand to help you over a slippery rock.

“The armor offers protection, but I still feel wet. And hot.” You scoffed.

“We both know your armor is temperature controlled. You can’t fool me.” He chuckled at your mock outrage and gripped your waist.

“What are you-”

“I’m helping you, princess. Now stay still.” He picked you up and hauled you over a deep crevice. If the captain hadn’t noticed, you would have fallen in. You continued walking, but the captain didn’t let go of your waist. Thankfully, your wet hair hid the warmth in your cheeks.

The rain lightened up a couple hours later, and you had cheered in relief. Finally, some reprieve from the weather. Except the jungle decided to throw a jungle cat in the mix. Not only did you and the captain have to run for your lives, you also lost the supply bag along with the rations. So the pair of you were soaking wet and out of food. Perfect.

“I’m so sorry, captain. I didn’t know what else to do but-”

“Throw our only supply bag at the cat?” He shook his head, almost in disappointment. You frowned

“It was on top of you! I couldn’t have pushed it off.”

“Even if you could,” he huffed, “I wouldn’t have allowed you any closer to the cat.”

“You wouldn’t have allowed me?” The captain turned, and you could tell—even with the bucket covering his head—that he looked exhausted. Maybe annoyed.

“My job is to protect you, princess.”

“Even if it means risking your life?” The arm around your waist tightened to the point of squeezing.

“Yes. If it has to come to that.”

“Well, I don’t allow you to do that.”

“Oh, now you’re the one making orders.” All at once, the tension popped like a balloon, and you laughed together. The captain had a nice laugh. It was full and warm and sorely needed in your time of bad luck.

After the rain and the cat, you had braced yourself for the next obstacle. The captain urged you to remain optimistic, but you knew—everyone knew— that bad luck came in three. So you were understandably on edge for the duration of your hike. Every snap of a twig, every chirp in the trees; you were tense, cautious, and slow . You knew you were being slow to the point where it probably frustrated the captain. But with your caution, you discovered something.

Looking up at the sky, not believing the sight. You rub at your face, hands already reaching out to stop the man next to you. “Do you see that?” You point a shaky finger over the treetops. Captain Rex halts his steps and follows your hand.

“Looks like smoke. Which means….”

“Civilization.” You grin at him and start to run. You ignore the captain’s protests behind you, too concentrated on not tripping on the jungle roots. Except, a wet rock causes you to slip, hands waving in front of your face, bracing for impact. But you don’t fall. Instead, the captain has both arms wrapped around your torso. His body wraps around yours, and he sets you back on your feet. Maker, why did the air suddenly get hotter?

“Be careful. I told you not to run. We’ll get there eventually.” He mutters, letting go of you. You mumble a thank you and resign to walking alongside the captain in silence.

“Are all your brothers blond too?” You blurted. The question had been eating at you for a while, and there was no better time to ask.

“I-what? No, not everyone is blond.”

“So you’re born with it?” He shakes his head. “Then you’re a bottle blond?” The captain coughs in mock offense. You give him your most innocent, puppy-like eyes.

“N-no. I mean, yeah. I-I bleach it.” He shoves a stray tree branch aside with enough force that it seems like the branch personally hurt him. “Besides, what does it matter?”

“It doesn’t.” The smoke ahead continues to rise as you hike closer. Enough time passes that it seems like the conversation is over, but… you keep thinking about it. About the captain. “I take it back. It matters because you look good, and if your brothers had the same hair, they’d probably look just as handsome too.” You waltz ahead—face as warm as the jungle around you— not bothering to wait for the captain who had stopped in his tracks.  

Thankfully, you see the edge of the village up ahead.

“Looks like we’ve arrived.” The black smoke rises steadily, and tall wooden fences block the houses in a circle. There’s an empty space, which you assume is the entrance, in the middle. The captain follows behind you.

As you enter, you can already sense the type of settlement it is. The houses are primitive, with no signs of droids or technology. Children play around in an open area of the village. They laugh, sounds of pure, bright joy. To the side, some mothers wash clothes in basins while others hang them on racks. A group of younger women, probably closer to your age, are rolling some sort of material. It looks like tarp or some other waterproof cover. Various fires are lit around the village, pots of water boiling atop. They look… happy. Untouched.

Before you can fully step inside, one of the children looks at you and points. Soon enough, all the kids are curious and excited, rushing over to investigate. They’re probably amazed at the captain’s armor because they gather around him first. However, one of the mothers stops them just as they reach you.

Her voice is scolding and heavy with caution. “Who are you?” She scowls, laying a protective hand on the little girl closest to you.

The captain starts to answer, but you grip his elbow in warning. As diplomatic as he can be, he’s still a soldier first. Talking was your area of expertise. “We’re simple travelers. Our ship crashed in the forest, and we lost everything. Could you point us to the capital?” You arrange your face into one of helplessness. Eyes downturned, lips curved downwards. The woman is about to respond when an elderly lady steps in.

Her face is lined with wrinkles, spots, and other obvious signs of a life in an unforgiving environment. But her smile and the light in her eyes speak of joy in tough times. Of living rather than surviving. She reaches out to grasp your hands in both of hers, the leathery warmth already soothing your nerves.

“Welcome to our village, young travelers. I am Xi, but you can call me grandma. Now, how can we help a young couple like you?” The captain opens his mouth in protest, but you tighten your hold on his elbow. He winces.

You let out a demure smile. “My husband and I would  appreciate a place to stay and some food. We don’t have money, but we can pay in labor.” Xi nods at your response and motions the two of you to follow her. The mother next to Xi relaxes a bit, but her gaze never leaves you. The children merely stare in awe.

As Xi walks through the village, you take the opportunity to observe the place. Large buckets line the perimeter of the area, and various fire pits contain small blazes. More of that tarp-like material covers the walkways between houses, but the young women take them down and roll them out. Xi leads you closer to the center of the settlement, and you eye the large fire pit complete with seating.

She motions towards a house, the smallest one actually, and enters. The two of you follow right behind her. The house is quaint, a small fireplace in one corner and crates for storage.

“This is the guest hut. Not many travelers come by but enough do to warrant this. The path leading from the back of the village heads straight to the capital.” She waves her hand at a raised section of the floor. “It’s not a real bed, but it’s the best we have. Why don’t you look for some blankets, dear?”

You preoccupy yourself with rifling through the crates for blankets, maybe pillows. You don’t register the conversation between the captain and Xi, but they’re both laughing. When you finally gather the materials and prepare them on the bed, you turn to find Xi rubbing a gentle hand on the captain’s back.

“Ahh, I see, my son. Very unfortunate.” You jerk your head towards her, confused as to what they’re talking about. “Regardless, I hope you enjoy your stay.  Dinner will be soon, and you’re welcome to help in preparations. The sun is about to set too, so change out of your wet clothes and into some dry ones. It gets chilly at night. ” Xi smiles at the captain then at you—face full of cheeriness and something like hope— and leaves.

Meanwhile, the captain goes through the crates himself. “The capital is about half a day’s journey on foot. Here,” he tosses some clothes over his shoulder.

You grasp the soft material. The fabric is light and made to cool the wearer in the stifling jungle humidity. You strip off your damp dress and start to unzip your black under layer. The tight suit feels like second skin and not in a good way.

A choked apology causes you to look up at the captain. A beautiful blush creeps over his tanned cheeks and down his neck. You wonder if he blushes in more places too. His eyes avert to the side, and he coughs pointedly. With a start, you realize that you were stripping in front of the captain. Maker, I’m a hot mess , you sigh internally. It was one thing to be naked next to any man, but next a captain of the GAR who’s functioning as your bodyguard while you’re also disguised as a couple? That’s another level of embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry, captain.” You turn around, facing the walls instead of the blushing captain.

“Please. Just Rex here. Since the villagers think we’re married.” The nervousness in his voice is palpable and only serves to make you scream. At least you know he’s just as scared as you were. Stars, how can someone so hot be so shy .

“Then you should call me by my name as well.” Just as he opens his mouth to protest, you hold a hand up. “No excuses.” You finish shrugging out of your clothes and ease into the provided dress. You turn to face him and give a little twirl, finishing in a curtsy. The captain—Rex—chuckles, causing your cheeks to warm.

He whispers something, but you don’t quite catch it. He had already shucked off his armor and unzipped his blacks, turning around to change into some new, dry clothes. You know you shouldn’t, but you watch anyway. The hard muscles of his back contract and loosen as he moves around. There aren’t many scars there, just bruises. Big ones too. The purple and blue blots were probably from the crash. He must have absorbed most of the impact since he had sheltered you in his arms. Nonetheless, he looks broad and wide and strong . You force your eyes to not wander below his waist and promptly look away.

Once Rex puts on the loose shirt and matching pants, he arranges his blue-stained armor into a neat pile, setting aside the twin blasters to be cleaned later. Outside, sounds of excitement and joy flicker around the village as well as increased cheers. “Seems like the men came back from their hunt.”

“Hunt?” You’re about to peek out the door when Rex replies.

“Each day, the men of the village venture out and hunt down game. Mostly the jungle cats, but also wild birds, feral dogs… stuff like that. Grandma told me about it.”

“Grandma? You already call her that?” You accuse with a smile. Rex rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks coloring to a delightful pink.  

He shrugs in feigned nonchalance. “Well, she’s been really nice to us, and she did say to call her grandma.”

“Does she remind you of your own grandma?” you say, not realizing your words. However, the shock, the embarrassment on his face makes you think back to what you said. Shit. You just asked a clone— someone who was made in a vat, someone who was never actually born through traditional means— if they were reminded of their own grandma. How callous could you be? Before you could apologize, Rex stops you.

“It’s fine. It was a slip of the tongue and-” you shake your head, effectively silencing him.

Your hands clench in anger. Not at Rex—never at him—but at yourself. “No. I’m so sorry, Rex. I know this might not seem like a big deal to you, but it is to me. It may be a slip of the tongue, but I shouldn’t have been ignorant or lax enough to even think that.I might be exaggerating this, but…I’ve only ever heard stories of clones. Or of Kamino. You were the first clone I’ve ever met, and I don’t know what I was expecting but it certainly wasn’t you. Yes, you have the same face as your brothers, the same build, the same voice, but you’re not the same person a-and you’re special , Rex. I shouldn’t have reminded you about your situation o-or diminished the obvious joy you got from experiencing what it’s like to have a grandma a-and-”

Somehow, in the midst of your apology, Rex closed the gap between you and gently pressed a finger to your lips. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face.

“I know. Little gods, I know , princess. While some people might see clones as sub-human, I’ve been blessed to serve under Jedis like Skywalker, Kenobi, Padawan Tano, and more who have treated me like a regular person. I know that I am more than a number. It just amazes me that you, having spent two days maximum with a clone, already see me as an equal while many people on Coruscant don’t.” The look in his eyes is sincere, his hand on your shoulder a firm reminder that this is all real. That he wasn’t angry or disappointed. In fact, he seems to be… grateful. An idea that only makes your eyes start to water.

As your eyes well up, out of inner frustration making way for release or just general emotional relief, you surge and bury your head into Rex’s chest. He’s caught off balance but quickly recovers and wraps his arms around you. He pats your back, albeit awkwardly, and the two of you simply wallow in the aftermath of your heartfelt (definitely dramatic) encounter. The embrace… feels good. Hugs always feel good, and it's a shame you’re not allowed to hug often back at the palace. Of course, the strong captain you’re sharing the hug with certainly makes the experience more enjoyable.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. The captain slowly releases you from his hold, the loss of warmth making you pout. “We should go help out with dinner.” You nod in agreement, and Rex reaches a thumb out to catch a stray tear before he could stop himself. But he pauses right as he does it, the impropriety of the action catching up to him. His job was to protect you, not give you hugs and dry your tears. Instead of a scolding, however, you give a small smile as the captain stutters out an apology before stepping further away from you and leaving the house. Well. You can’t say that you don’t enjoy seeing Rex flustered. Because you do. Stars above, he looks possibly gorgeous when he blushes.

But the fluttering in your own heart is another story. The erratic beats in your chest, the sweaty palms, the warm cheeks. This was not good. Attraction was one thing but being attached was another. You laugh at yourself, the humorless breath grounding you in reality.

Too many things just happened, and you don’t have the brain capacity to think properly. Not wanting to dwell on it, you gather your wits and leave the house to help the rest of the village.

*****

The jungle air runs colder at night, but the large bonfire provides enough heat for the whole village. You sit on a hard stone bench, eating a chunk of wild bird, Rex to your right. He talks to a group of men and children alike, and they marvel at his war stories.. All around, families gather around the fire, eating and enjoying another night. The tarp-like material lays rolled up by the houses, allowing for distant stars to shine through the gaps between the trees.

The skeptical mother from earlier, Kwi, approaches you with a cup and hands it over. The brown liquid warms your hand. “Enjoying yourself?” You nod, sipping contents. It stings your throat, and you can’t hide your wince. Kwi laughs, swigging her own drink, finishing it in one gulp. “Burns, right?”

“Yes. Quite… strong.” You contemplate taking another sip, but decide against it. Alcohol and you were not a good combination. “Kwi?” She hums in response. “Do you enjoy life here? Despite being away from the capital or from technology?”

She stays silent for a moment, thinking. Her daughter climbs up her lap and settles into her mother’s chest, sleepy eyes fluttering at you before closing. “Yes. We are very happy here. We hear stories of other planets and technology we can’t even imagine. But we’ve also heard of the war, and it’s reached us already. If there was a choice,” she sighed, “we wouldn’t be a part of it. Especially since there are little ones,” she says. “When will you and your husband have children?”

The idea of you and Rex having children is… absurd. Since you’ve only known the man for so little time, the thought never crossed your mind. But Kwi was still staring, patiently waiting for an answer, gently rubbing her daughter’s sleepy head. “We’re still young. But maybe soon.” You turn, facing your supposed husband.

The firelight makes his face glow. The harsh lines of war reduced to softer curves. Under the moon, the young soldier looks like any other man.

“It’s beautiful to see that you still love each other.”

“Pardon?”

“In your eyes. You can’t deny those feelings. My husband… he died some time ago. He looked at me the same way you look at your husband.” Her face sagged into sadness, and she clutched her daughter closer. You reach out a hand to settle on her arm, gentle and soothing.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” You’ve never lost anyone dear to you but the thought of losing a husband—especially when you had children— is unbearable. You saw Kwi as a strong person the second you entered the village, but news of her loss only made her stronger in your eyes. A true survivor.

Kwi sniffs in response, as if dismissing her sadness, and her face eases into nonchalance. “It’s alright. He fought bravely against those droids. Because of his sacrifice, our village was saved.”

“Droids?” Your surprise seems to amuse and confuse her.

Still patting her daughter’s back, she turns to allow more of the fire to warm her child. “Yes. The large ships birthed many droids, and they marched to the capital, destroying everything in their way. The jungle healed itself, but many lives were lost.” Words struggle to escape your mouth. The Separatists were already here? Why did no one tell the Jedi or the Republic or even you ?

Kwi lays a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You can stay here, you know. We understand that you want to go to the capital, but it’s too dangerous. Whatever you have to do there, it won’t end well.” She’s right. One princess and clone captain won’t stand a chance against a droid-occupied capital city.  

But you have a duty. Not just to your own people, but to the villagers as well. To all those who suffered from Separatist rule. “Thank you, Kwi. We’d be happy to stay, but there are important things to do in the capital.” You smile, a genuine, warm curve. Beside you, the captain rubs your back, and you lean into the touch. He turns to give you a tiny nod before continuing his conversation.

Suddenly, Xi stands in the center of the area, as close to the fire pit as she can get. She holds a cup in her hand and raises it high above her head. “To the young couple!” The rest of the villagers lift up their drinks, cheering. Sleepy children rouse from their rest but don’t fully wake. “May your marriage prosper.” Xi shoots you a grin, full of mischief, and she winks as if she knows that you and Rex were faking it all. She brings her cup to her mouth and—alongside the rest of the villagers— downs the alcohol in one go.

You and Rex glance at each other, and it’s too dark for him to see your warm cheeks. He clinks his cup against yours and takes a swig, so you do the same. The burn still hurts, but you don’t mind the warm feeling in your stomach.

*****

Rex’s breath sends tingles down the base of your neck. You’re both under the light blankets provided in the guest house, not touching. “My favorite brother? That’s hard to decide, really. I have too many. If I had to pick… Cody is a bastard, but we’re deployed together often, so I see him a lot. Fives is a contender, but his favorite is Echo. Maybe Wolffe? Eh. They’re all my vod . I have to love them.”

You turn around, tucking a hand under the pillow. The fireplace is the only thing illuminating the room, the shadows running across Rex’s face. “Since you’re all different people, you might have opposing views then. How do you blindly trust if the only thing you know is that they’re your brothers?” His face shifts, brows scrunching.

Quietly, so quietly you almost don’t catch it, “I was betrayed once. By someone I respected. His name was Slick. I like to think the second he became a traitor, he stopped being my— our —brother.” You hum in response and reach out to his face.

You trace his cheek, and he flinches at the contact but doesn’t stop you. You continue down the harsh line of his jaw, the hard muscles in his neck. “What’s your favorite planet in the galaxy?”

He doesn’t say anything for a while, opting to relax under your gentle touch instead. “I don’t know. No one’s ever asked me. I have a love-hate relationship with Kamino because I was born there, but it was not a good childhood—not a childhood at all. Coruscant is alright. It means I’m on leave, but the people… are not always nice. And the other planets I visit are usually not for leisure. So I don’t really know what my favorite planet is.”

You scoff. “Impossible. We all have favorite planets, Rex. Some day, I’ll take you to my home world and show you the waterfalls, the canyons, especially the hanging gardens. And we can go swimming in the lakes or climb up the trees. Maybe visit the rainforests.”

He laughs. “I’m not sure I want to visit another rainforest after I get out of here.”

“Good point,” you grin. Rex looks so pretty when he smiles. Or when he does anything really. But another thought pushes at the back of your head. “How will we leave this place? Separatists control the capital already. I was too late; my mission failed before it even started. What am I even doing here? A princess in a jungle… what will my people think of me?”

Rex sobers up, his laugh completely gone. “You know that you’re more than a princess, right? Look, you told me earlier about how special I was, but you seem to forget that you’re special too. That you’re a person first. And yes, our situation is pretty ridiculous, but it’s reality.” He reaches out, tentatively, and oh so gently rubs small circles your shoulder.

You sigh and contemplate snuggling closer to the captain. But that would be too much, right? Crossing the boundary, passing the line of decorum? As much as you want to, even under the guise of seeking warmth,  snuggling next to Rex would be inappropriate. “Princess… we’ll get out of this together. The mission is not done. Once we head to the capital, we’ll find a way to transmit a message to General Skywalker. After the 501st arrive and clear the area, you can go and make treaties with the ruling members of Theatis 06, and well… the mission will be over, and you no longer need me.” But what if I need you for longer? The traitorous thought echoes in your mind, but you shove it down. As far down as you possibly can.

“Sounds like a plan,” you smile, eyelids feeling heavier than before. “Guess I’m lucky I got a captain like you in my escort. Seems like someone knew the Seppies were already here…” your words taper off, slowed and slurred.

The air around you is chilly, and the blanket offers some protection. Yet, Rex’s body heat is simply too tempting. Too comforting and way too inviting to resist. Not even thinking about it, you curl towards his chest, the top of your head pressed against his neck. You hear him huff in surprise, and you have enough sense to pull back. But the captain wraps an arm around your waist, bringing you even closer.

“Sleep,” he whispers.

*****

The sun hangs uncovered for once, shining on the villagers gathering at the far end of the settlement. Kwi stands at the forefront, her daughter clinging to her legs. They wave enthusiastically, and you reciprocate.

Xi grips your shoulders. “Be safe, child. Do what you must. And,” she leans in to whisper, “make sure you tell him how you feel.”

You pull back, shocked, but she grins wolfishly. “I’ve seen enough fake couples in my lifetime, dear. But what you and that man have is real.” She winks, letting go to give Rex a hug as well.

You’ll miss the village. Very much. The people, the comfort, the normalcy . It’s a simple, domestic life. One that you’ll never get to experience as royalty. Rex lays a small hand on your elbow, signalling that it’s time to go. You say your final farewells and head out, heart heavy.

“Looks like there won’t be as much rain today, so our journey will be quicker.” You nod, only half listening. Your excitement at re-entering the jungle was non-existent, and it showed. Rex tugs at your arm, urging you to move faster.

Since there is little to no rain, the jungle becomes brighter. More alive. The colors look more vibrant than ever. Even the animals were louder.

“The hanging gardens back home look like the jungle without rain.” Rex turns, his helmet facing you.

“So it was wild and dangerous?” You chuckle, shaking your head.

“Not really. Gardeners tended to it. My people value order and consistency, but we prefer our gardens to be more natural. More… wild, like you said. Full of animals too. The birds, the fish—it was a mini ecosystem.”

“I’d love to see it. One day.” He looks down at the compass given to him by the villagers. “Good. We’re heading in the right direction.”

“Rex?” He hums. “Would you be a Jedi? If you could?” He quiets for a second.

“No. I wouldn’t.” He looks at you and continues on. “It’s a hard life for a Jedi. They can’t be attached, and there’s so much responsibility that comes with their power. And the Jedi I know are also pretty karking stupid,” he laughs.

“Tell me about them. Your Jedi.”

“Well… they’re not my jetii.” You send a pointed look, and he sighs. “Fine. They’re mine because I have to take care of their sorry asses. One time, Skywalker gave me little warning before he and Tano hoisted me into the air. He and Ahsoka landed and barely had enough sense to lighten my fall using the Force. And don’t get me started on his improvisations. Ahsoka is a different matter entirely.” He pauses to help you over a tree root. “She is terrifyingly good at being a Jedi, but she’s also a teenager. So sometimes she’s sulking in a corner for one second and challenging shinies to a fun spar the next. Doesn’t help that she’s usually the only girl on the entire ship and a Togruta—a naturally born hunter.”

You can’t help but laugh. “She’s very confident in what she does,” you say, thinking back to your first, and only, encounter with the girl. “She has the potential to do many great things.”

“I know. But she’s a Jedi by default, and like I said earlier, jetii are too reckless for their own good. They always give commanding officers heart attacks.’’ He brushes some stray branches to the side, hand firmly pressed on your lower back. You’re not going to complain. “I know Cody gets frustrated with General Kenobi for leaving his lightsaber, getting captured, or hell, even flirting with Ventress. But at least Cody’s an actual commander. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to be a commander, but Skywalker gives me the same work as Cody even though I never signed up for it.”

“But you like working with them?” Rex tenses for a second.

“Yes. I do. I don’t believe in miracles, but what the Jedi do… have you ever seen a Jedi in action?” You shake your head. “Well it’s amazing. Disregarding those laser swords, they can move stuff with the Force. They can put suggestions in people’s heads. They can jump off buildings without a scratch. It’s like all the stories young clone cadets are told. We all thought it was spacer’s tales, and many clones don’t serve under a Jedi General. They’re the closest thing to magic, and I believe in them. Really do. Come on,” he nudged you forward just a little bit.

You and the captain walk for hours when you start to notice the droids. You don’t know how you didn’t see them before, but droid parts litter the forest floor. The jungle seems to have already claimed the debris, but the dead droid heads send an ominous pang to your chest. There were so many . Definitely enough to wipe out a village.

Rex whistles when you two pass a particular dense area of dead battle droids. “A whole lotta dead clankers.”

“Clankers?”

“Just slang for Seppie droids. We also call them tinnies.”

“Ah, I see.” As more of the droid graveyard reveals itself, the jungle also clears up. No doubt because of the large traffic that warred previously, but also because you were entering the edges of the jungle. Moving towards civilization.

“How about you?” Rex asks. The question throws you off guard, and you almost stagger from the suddenness. But the captain steadies you.

“I beg your pardon?” He takes his hand off your lower back, slowing his pace. The path becomes narrower, the sides sloping down into the jungle floor. Up ahead, you see distant wisps of smoke.

“You ask me all the questions so… it’s my turn. What are the best and worst parts of your culture?” You grip the side of a tree, tightening your hold enough so you can position yourself over a precarious rock.

“As a princess, I’m supposed to be proper, right? So no touching, which includes hugs in public. Even with family members. Also no speaking out of turn, and no criticizing the government or royal family.”

“So as a princess, you can’t even talk bad about yourself?” You sigh.

“Yeah. Ridiculous, right? And I have to wear such heavy clothes, makeup, and jewelry. It sounds vain but that is some of the worst parts in the life of a princess.” It had been a relief to take off your weighted garments when you were in that cave. Rex had asked if you intended to wear them again or carry the clothes with you, especially the jewelry. However, you wanted to leave the clothes behind. Unbeknownst to your captain, you had lugged the jewelry then proceeded to gift it to the villagers.

“I think the best part is the festivals. We have big ones every year full of dancing, music, and entertainment. There are intricate fireworks displays and coordinated performances. It’s hard to explain the feeling of being in such a celebration.” As the path widens again, Rex moves to walk next to you.

“Your planet reminds me of Naboo.” You raise an eyebrow.

“You go to Naboo often?”

You can’t see his face, but you could tell he was grinning. “No, but our General is quite close with Senator Amidala.”

“Ah, so clones also participate in gossip then.” Rex laughs alongside you.

“Well, no clone is exempt, but I admit that high ranking officers gossip. Not that I-”

“It’s alright, Rex. It’s fun to gossip. Senator Amidala and I are good friends. In fact, I take vacations on Naboo every few years.”

“Oh really? Do you- wait.” He steps in front of you and holds an arm out, barring your waist. Rex lets out a curse and pushes you both down, ducking behind a nearby tree. Just as you're hidden from view, you hear a buzz. You peek around the tree to see a flying droid, its red light spinning in circles, scanning for something. Rex holds a finger to his lips.

Once the buzz is gone, Rex stands up, surveying the area for any more disturbances.  “We’re getting close.” Despite the area being clear, he still remains cautious. “Since you’ve been to this planet before, what should I expect when we are near the capital?”

You rise, knees already stiff from your crouch. “There’s some farmland, but not much. My guess is that our path leads straight to the city gates.”

“Any idea on how to get in?”

“Pretend we’re married and seeking refuge?” He shakes his head.

“I’m in full armor. And we didn’t bring the spare clothes.”

“What if we… stole some?” Rex turns his bucket to you and could tell that he’s giving you a blank look.

“Sorry, princess, but the last thing I expected you to suggest was theft .” You snort.

“Come on. We need to get in somehow.” He marches forward instead of answering. “Hey! You could always leave your armor in a safe place, and we can return to it after this is all over.” You’re met with his visor. He was probably giving you a what the fuck look, and you’d laugh if you could see his face.

“There’s only the two of us. In a Seppie capital. This armor is the only thing that’s protecting me. And armor is important for clones,” he mumbles. “I can’t just leave it with no guarantee I’ll get it back.” Oh. It made sense. The first thing you noticed about Rex was his armor. Armor was part of what makes him Rex. The jaig eyes, the welded pieces, the kama.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you-” He sighs.

“It’s ok, princess. Look, we’ll find some way into the city. Maybe weaknesses in the walls or secret passages.” You wrack your brain, trying to remember entrances, maybe hidden routes. You could sneak underneath a cart or find a tunnel...  wait.

“There are canals that lead into the city. We could probably sneak in that way. Possibly end up near or in the palace itself.”

“Sounds perfect. Have you ever been in the canals?” You wince.

“Twice. I was curious the first time and opened a grate that led to the sewer system. The second time, I had to escape assassins sent to kill the ruling family of Theatis 06. I was collateral damage. Apparently, I had wandered so far into the system for a long time, that my private guards found me passed out from exhaustion.” You laugh at the memory, but Rex stills.

“You were almost killed in the crossfire of an assassination attempt?”

“Yes.” He shakes his head, probably still processing. People liked to assume that as a princess, you were sheltered from hardship. Except royalty came with its own set of problems. Like assassinations.

Up ahead, the jungle opens up to a large field surrounding the tall city walls. Rex stops you, scanning the immediate area before crouching behind a tree.

“Well. There’s the capital. And,” he takes out some binoculars—which you didn’t even know he had—scanning the wall, “that looks like a canal entrance.” He hands the device over, and you peer into it, spotting the metal cover.

“Seems like it.” He pockets the binoculars and begins skirting around the trees, toeing the line of the forest. The capital was built like one big circle, so the walls were one big circle as well. If you were to follow the treeline, you’d eventually get to the straightest possible path to the grate. The only thing separating the two of you from the city walls, however, were merchants, villagers, and droids all milling about. The people wait in a line to enter the city, and the droids are… well, being droids. Thankfully, the large field is not farmland but tall grasses. Tall enough to crawl through without being spotted.

When you finally have the sewer entrance directly ahead of you, Rex stops, signalling you to crouch down. He hands you one blaster.

“Just in case,” he says before kneeling down by the edges of the tall grass. He lays flat in an army crawl and motions for you to follow. You do the same, the itchy grass concealing you and your captain.

Of course, Rex crawled with ease. The pattern of elbow-knee-elbow-knee seems drilled into him. His feet move right in front of your head, but he goes at a pace you can’t possibly follow. Probably because you weren’t trained in army crawling. The distance from the edge of the jungle to the canal grate wasn’t astronomical, but it was enough for your arms and back to ache anyway.

“How much farther, Rex,” you whisper tiredly.

“Just a little bit, princess. Come on, it’s easy.”

“I’m not a soldier like you,” you say, rolling your eyes even though he can’t see you.

Rex snorts. “No, you’re not. But if you managed to escape an assassination attempt, then I’m sure you can crawl just a little further.” You open your mouth to retort, but Rex shushes you.

“Up ahead. You remember what to do?”

“Yes, captain.” Rex stops his crawl, and you roll sideways and move up so you’re next to each other. The grate is a few feet away, but there are no grasses to use as cover. You glance around to see that there were enough people to catch you, but it doesn’t seem like they’re going to be looking in your direction anyway.

You pull your body up from the ground, head still bowed to stay below the grasses. Once in a crouching position, you steady yourself. Rex stays silent, but he does pat your calf and hands you a multitool—which, again, you didn’t even know he had. He holds up a hand, and lowers his fingers for each second passed. Three...two...one…

You jump up from your stance and dash forward, not bothering to waste time looking around. Once you reach the grate, you take out the multitool and begin unscrewing the grate open, praying that the multitool had the size you needed. The screws are rusty, but the tool worked.

Voices come from your left, and you mentally curse. They might not have spotted you, yet—the curved wall could hide you for a little bit— but they were definitely approaching. With a speed you didn’t know you had, you manage to open the grate. You crawl inside, hand immediately going to cover your nose from the stench. At the last second, you remember to place the grate back, holding it closed just as a pair of people walk past. Thank the Maker.

After a few seconds of silence, you slide the grate off and give a thumbs up at the grass. You set the cover on the ground outside and inch deeper into the canal. With a burst, Rex comes out of hiding—full white and blue armor shining under the sun— and sprints to the entrance, all but diving into the canal. Once inside, he immediately turns to place the grate back on.

“Should we seal it back? So no one knows how we got in?”

“No,” Rex mutters, “we’ll prop it. Besides, this might be our only way out if things get ugly.” Once Rex leans the grate against the opening, you both continue your journey into the tunnel.

The tunnel isn’t big enough to stand in nor is it small enough to warrant crawling. Instead, you had to settle for a weird crouch-like walk. Rex, with his taller height, seems to be suffering more than you.

“This is where you managed to fall asleep in exhaustion?”

“To be fair, I was running on adrenaline and fear.”

“Those are the usual ingredients for many insane things. I would know.” You both chuckle quietly, the sound tinny and distorted in the tunnel.

“Care to tell me more about said insane things?” He launches into his stories as the two of you forge deeper into the city. At this point, you don’t even know where you are, but it doesn’t really matter. Listening to Rex talk about anything—whether it be his experiences or the weather or even battle tactics— was distracting enough, with or without the helmet.

Eventually, you stop, knowing for a fact that the two of you are well within the city. You also wanted to give the captain some mercy. He’s young but no one is exempt from the back pain that comes with awkward positioning.

With the help of the multitool, you open the grate from inside and push it up and onto the sidewalk. You peek up through the opening to glance around then crouch down again.

“It seems to be a residential street. Not too many people and no droids, but we should still be careful.”

“Are we close enough to a building?” You poke your head up again.

“Yeah. There’s a house close to us that doesn’t have its lights on. We can try to break in and find a way to contact your Jedi.” Rex grunts in agreement and you stand up to full height. Your whole head and upper chest are out of the canal, but the rest of your body remains.

You try hauling yourself with your arms alone, but they’re still sore from your earlier crawl. “Here,” Rex mutters as he grabs your thighs, pushing up. Flustered, you manage to get your whole body onto the street. An old man glances your way but remains unbothered.

By the time you reach the door of the house, Rex had already pulled himself out of the canal and closed the grate. You try—and fail—to lockpick the door, so Rex takes the multitool from you and does it himself. Slightly embarrassed, you keep an eye out for your surroundings instead. No one seems to mind that the two of you were about trespass. In fact, everyone seemed reserved. Quiet. Even fearful. What neither of you notice is the flying probe droid hovering above a building down the street.

As soon as Rex unlocks the door, he ushers the two of you in. You’re met with a simple living room and a small kitchen. Lining the walls are holos of two Twi’lek females in various places—around the city, in a park, even in the jungle. They seem happy, wrapped in each other’s arms. You glance at Rex, who’s searching the unit for a transmitter. Maybe, one day—no, you shouldn’t entertain those thoughts, but-

“Found a transmitter. And two comm links.” Thank the Maker. He tosses you one, and you attach it to your arm. “Let’s see if I can connect to Skywalker’s channel.” He mashes the button, and you hover next to him. You’re met with sounds of static.

“General Skywalker? It’s me, Captain Rex with the princess. General?” Rex shakes the device around. “Kriff, I think the Seppies scrambled all transmissions. I don’t know-”

“Rex?” The unmistakable voice of Ahsoka Tano filters out from the transmitter. “Where are you? We’ll converge on your location.” In the background, you can hear her talking to others, probably Skywalker and the rest of Rex’s men.

“Oh Rex, old boy. Please tell me that you and the princess are safe.” Skywalker says, relief evident.

“We’ve managed. We’ll try to stay hidden for now. Were you able to get our coordinates from the transmission?”

“Yes we did. Stay put and don’t do anything stupid. That’s an order, Rex. We’ll be there shortly.” In your periphery, you spot a dark shape move across the window. And another joins the first. And another…

“Rex…” you whisper.

“General, you know I never make stupid decisions, right?” Skywalker just laughs, but your chest tightens in panic.

“Rex!” His helmet snaps to you and follows your gaze to the window.

“Fuck.”

He hauls you over to the stairs just as a blaster shot breaks the window of the house. You’re both up the second floor and already running down the hallway in search of an escape route as a wave of droids march into the living room.

You push a door open and find a bedroom. “How are we-”

Rex pulls his blaster out and fires at the window on the far side of the room. “Come on.” He grabs your arm and pulls you to his side. He uses his other hand to pull out some device, aims it at the roof of the neighboring building, and a hook attached to a line shoots out. You whimper at the distance, but Rex simply says, “Trust me.”

He jumps out the window, you tucked against him, your hands desperately clinging to his body. The line reels in, and you almost make it to the other side before blaster shots aim your way. You shriek, almost letting go of Rex, but you land on the roof in time.

The captain pulls the transmitter out, but a droid shoots it out his hand. Cursing, he drops the ruined device and withdraws his blaster, wiping out the two droids by the opposite window and the three on the street below.

“Do you want your second blaster back?” He shakes his head.

“You might need it. You should also have this,” he pulls a round object from his belt. A bomb. At your expression, he says, “Just in case. We have a chance to get out of here yet.” He grabs your hand and pulls you alongside him, running across the roof.

“On three, I’ll throw you across.” He positions his hands around you.

“Wait! Can’t you use the same hook thing-” But he’s already counting down, and before you could finish your protest, you’re flung off.

Your arms and legs scramble midair, and you land on the next building with a resounding thud. The pain erupts through your joints, but you don’t have the time to complain because Rex also leaps across, almost sprawling on top of you.

He, however, has more sense to get back up and start shooting at the incoming droids. You heave yourself to your feet, blaster in hand.

“Ever used a blaster?”

“I know how to shoot, but never practiced on moving targets.” He chuckles.

“Well, there’s no time like the present to learn.” The blaster is heavy and cold in your hands. With a huff, you aim at a droid marching towards you. The first shot misses. And so does the second. But your third hits it in the chest, and you have to stop yourself from grinning.

As you take aim at another droid, Rex finishes off the one you had previously shot at.

“Need to aim for the head, princess.” You stick your tongue out.

“I tried my best,” you pout. In the time between your bickering, Rex had cleared the roof of droids, but the unmistakable sound of marching signalled even more.

“Karking hells, did they send a whole battalion of clankers?” Rex sighs and rubs the front of his helmet, right where the blue jaig eyes were. “Well, princess. We need a better plan than run and shoot if we have to face more of these droids.”

“We could hide?”

“Seems a little-” Rex ducks from a blaster bolt then turns to shoot the offending droid, “late to hide.”

“What about-” a loud boom echoes around you, debris and smoke creating a cloud. Distantly, you hear a fuzzy scream. You see Rex reach for you through the smoke, a white and blue hand struggling to grab you. But the world under your feet rushes up to meet you, and you stagger. It’s then that you realize the screaming is coming from you.  

Rex’s helmet fades away as you hurtle backwards, and you explode in pain, everything going dark.

*****

Sounds of blaster fire shake you awake. With a jolt, you sit up, only to find a piece of debris blocking your feet. You manage to pry it off, grunting and cursing the whole time. Being a princess certainly didn’t train you for this situation.

Sounds of static come from your arm. The comm.

“Princess? Are you alright? Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” You’re met with a sigh of relief.

“Finally. I’ve been comming, but you haven’t responded. Where are you?”

You rub your cheek and look around. You’re in some alley separating two houses. Garbage bins line the walls and more pieces of debris lay scattered. A few feet away from you is the blaster. You must have dropped it in the explosion…

“I don’t know. What happened?” He huffs.

“A droid must have thrown a bomb on the roof, breaking a piece of it off and taking you with it. I was going to jump down and find you, but the-” he pauses, heaving, “there were too many droids, and I didn’t want them to follow you.” Another pause, another sigh. He sounded tired—the fatigue of running and shooting and worrying probably wore him down. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Me too,” you whisper back. Maybe you should tell him now. Tell him that you’re scared and hurt and that you need him. Because you need Rex as much as you want him. It’s wrong, and it would only end in heartbreak but- “Rex, I have something to say.”

“Yes, princess?”

“I think I-”

But your time for confession ends when a probe droid hovers at the end of the alley. Shit. You jump up on your aching legs and reach for the blaster. Your hands shake but manage to hit the droid, hoping to destroy it so it doesn’t alert the others of your presence. Unfortunately, the hit doesn’t stop it from flying off.

Limping to the mouth of the alley, you peek around a wall. Down the street, a battalion of battle droids marches over. The sounds of blaster fire come from your left, and you look up to see Rex jumping from roof to roof annihilating the droids.

His back is turned, and he won’t be able to see the marching formation. If they were to aim at him… he would be defenseless. Sandwiched on two sides.

You grip the blaster. And take aim.

One after another, the first wave of droids fall. For every shot you miss, another blaster bolt manages to pierce through a droid’s head. Your arms are aching from holding the weapon up for too long, and your knees threaten to buckle.

The second wave sees you and starts to take aim. You have enough strength left to dodge them. You dart behind a garbage bin and follow up with your own fire. Once again, they begin to drop. Your shots are sloppy, but you might actually have a chance to destroy them all. Victory is on the tip of your tongue, and you-

Distracted, you don’t notice a bolt hit you. The pain is sharp, biting, and searing . You clutch your side just as another bolt knocks the blaster out of your hand. You crouch low, too hurt, your mind too frayed to think properly.

The only thing you can do is hide, wincing at every bolt that hits the garbage bin. Each step the droids take closer to you, the sooner your end will come. The thought is grim, but at least… if you were to die, it would be in trying to help Rex.

The pain in your side begins to numb, and it evens out the fuzziness in your brain. The sharp edge of the agony, the ache—you peek around the garbage bin briefly and see the grate you and Rex had used just a few minutes prior. Only it felt like years ago.

The droids walk closer, but they don’t take aim at you. No, they shoot upwards . At the roof.

With a cry, you leap out and into the street, making a run for the grate. The droids don’t notice, too preoccupied with shooting your captain. You palm the bomb Rex had given you earlier and turn on your comm.

“Rex? I’m going to bomb the droids.” Muffled grunts come through. You don’t bother looking up, instead working to open the grate with one hand.

“What? It’s too dangerous, you won’t be able to run away in time. Princess, don’t-” The grate is heavy, but you manage to push it off.

“No, Rex. I have to do this. There are way too many droids down here, and they’re all aiming at you. You don’t stand a chance.” Something wet slides down your face and into your eye. You blink it out and watch as it falls on the rusty grate below you. Blood.

“I’m a soldier!” He yells. From your position, you can hear him even without the comm. “I have a duty to protect you, and you have the duty to stay alive. For your people. Don’t do it, princess. For me,” he pleads. You nudge the grate to the side, legs already slipping in. Liquid drips down your cheek, and you wipe it, expecting red. But it comes away clear

“Rex,” you choke out, “it’s too late. I have to do this for you.” You turn off the comm and throw the bomb into the approaching droids. They make confused noises and stop shooting for a second. You take one look at the captain on the roof, still firing. A loud shout of your name reaches your ears, and you whisper a prayer that this all works- Just as you pull the grate over the hole, a large tremor quakes through the ground.

The impact is enough to send you sprawling, an even more concentrated pain covering your body like a blanket. You hear a crack and everything goes fuzzy.

*****

Rex feels numb. The bomb that goes off wipes out the most of the battalion and the fronts of many houses. He finishes off the remaining droids easily just as a fleet from the 501st hover overhead, his vod jumping out to land on the carnage. Commander Tano follows right behind, and she steps on the roof where Rex stands.

“Anakin’s taking over the palace. We’ll drive off these Separatists in no time.” She punches his shoulder lightly. “Rex?” He just shakes his head. “What’s wrong? Where’s the princess?” He can’t stop the choked sob that escapes him.

Maker, he’s so angry . At you for being reckless, at himself for being too incompetent to save the person he cared—no, the person he was assigned to protect. If he told you to wait ten more seconds, the 501st would have landed and wiped out the droids. If he had been next you, you would have cleared them out together. If he had- if he had found you first then maybe-

Ahsoka tugs off his helmet and staggers backwards as Rex buries his face into her shoulder. A voice in his head scolds himself at the impropriety, but he doesn’t listen.

“Oh, Rex,” Ahsoka whispers, patting his back. He tries. He tries so hard to stop, but the sobs keep coming. He’s a soldier—he’s accustomed to death; he’s seen many beloved brothers die in his arms, heard the screams of civilians he couldn’t save— but you… you shouldn’t have died. It wasn’t your time. And it was his fault.

“Echo, scan the area for any civilians. Kix, check up on Rex.” Ahsoka orders. Before she tugs away, she holds Rex’s face in her palms. “Stay strong, captain.” She presses her forehead against his and heads off to deal with the aftermath.

“Come here. What did you do to yourself, vod ?” Kix mutters, sounding disappointed. It’s only when Kix starts to treat his immediate wounds that Rex begins to feel them. The sting on his forehead, his cheeks, even his hands feel better than the ache in his chest.

“Where is the princess, captain? She’s kinda a big part of this mission.” Kix’s methodical hands are rough but not as callous as Rex’s or even Hardcase’s. Like the princess. Well, her hands were nowhere near as rough, but they were soft and elegant in the same way Kix’s are. Maker, she was soft in many places, but she wasnt fragile. There were hard edges to her, physically and mentally. She had the iron resolve to help others, even if they weren’t her own people. Even if they were some random clone- Rex shakes himself out of his daze to find Kix waiting for an answer.

“Don’t know. She threw that bomb and then… well, she was injured, so-” Rex knows he’s mumbling and he should speak clearer, but if he talks louder then his fears might be confirmed.

“You don’t think she made it. Kriff, I’m sorry. We’ll have to tell her handmaidens and private guards. They’re already up at the palace with the general.” He shouldn’t get angry at his own brother, but the lack of sympathy in his voice—well, Kix did sound sympathetic but it was the same tone used for every other dead person, not someone special like the princess— made Rex grit his teeth.

Before he could reply, Echo’s shocked yell of “Captain!” followed by Ahsoka’s “Rex, you better get down here!” already forced Kix to haul Rex up.

“Are you good to walk?” Rex nods. Most of his injuries were easy to deal with anyway. Kix guides Rex down from the roof and into the unit below. They’re met with a quivering family of five talking to one of the 501st. They must have been terrified to hear the shootout he had upstairs. If you were here, you would have comforted them. Maybe played with the children-

As he exits the house, he finds you laid out on a stretcher next to the sewer grate. Immediately, Kix leaves his side to examine you and- kriff, you look so lifeless. And broken. That was not the princess he knew and lo- cared for. The blood on your face trickles in steady rivulets. Your singed dress is enough evidence that you got shot at least once.

He’s about to turn away—knowing that he can’t look or else he’ll break down again—until Kix speaks.

“She’s still alive, captain.” Well yeah no one could have survived that- wait, what? You were still alive? Already, he’s pushing aside the brothers in his way to stand next to you. He grips your hand, and it’s warm. It’s warm and soft and you’re still alive .

The grief that had been eating at his chest collapses, leaving a gaping hole in its absence. In its place, a surmounting wave of joy and warmth and relief washes through him.

“She might have gotten a concussion from the impact of the explosion. The blaster bolt didn’t hit anything serious, so that’s good. Some big bruises, probably torn muscles, quite a lot of scratches. Other than that, she’s fine.” Ahsoka, already by his side, places a hand on his shoulder.

“The princess is a strong one, Rex. A survivor. She’ll make it.” He’s forced to let go of your hand as Kix wheels you away. For now, he has to go back to being Rex the Captain and do his duty at the palace alongside his general. And later, when everything is dealt with and the Separatists are driven out, he’ll allow himself to visit you. Just one visit to say goodbye then the both of you will go your own ways. You’ll still be a princess and he’ll continue to be a soldier.

*****

The world comes back in small pieces. First, you feel the dull ache in your muscles and the dryness in your throat. Then the quiet sounds of med droids working and occasional distant chatter. The room is on the colder side, but not enough to warrant a blanket. You twitch your fingers and move your toes, relieved to find that everything seems to work. You wrack your brain to think of how you could possibly have ended up here. The last thing you remember was the droids, the bomb in your hand, the explosion-

You gasp and sit upright, eyes opening. The room is blurry around you, but you adjust and— Rex is standing off to the side. He rushes over, urging you to lay back down. Only it’s not Rex. Where Rex had blond, this man had a worded tattoo curling around his skull, his hair buzzed into patterns.

“Relax, princess. I’m Kix: medic of the 501st. I’m in charge of your care.” Oh. You try to speak but your throat is too dry. Kix hands you a glass of water, which you gulp greedily.

“Thank you, Kix. How- where is the Captain?” The medic gives you a strange look before replying.

“He’s still in a briefing with General Skywalker and Commander Tano. They’ll be done soon. Do you want me to send him over, princess?” It would be nice to see him, but… what if he was too busy? He probably had a lot of things to do, and his mission to protect you was over.

“I-it’s alright.” Kix sends you another face. “N-not that I don’t want to see him or anything. Just that I don’t want to be a bother, you know-” The medic holds a hand up.

“I get it. After the meeting, he’ll be free for a while, so expect him to come. I’m sure he would love to see you.”

“What do you m-mean by that-” The medic gives you a blank stare.

“Your handmaidens and private guards are waiting outside. Should I let them in?” Miffed at his redirection, you nod, and the medic steps away to open the door. One by one, your entourage filters in, concern coming through in droves.

None of them move to give you a hug or any touches. Instead, they assemble themselves in a semicircle around the bed.

“Princess, we were so worried about you.”

“We’re glad to see you safe, your highness.”

“How are your injuries, princess?”

“Princess, what happened to your clothes and jewelry?” Their voices are hushed and sincere, but the onslaught only gives you a headache. Kix notices your discomfort and motions for the handmaidens to step back.

“I’m alright, girls. No major injuries I think.” The handmaidens turn to Kix for confirmation, and he sighs.

“We dealt with her bigger issues first. With enough rest, she’ll recover to perfect health.” Satisfied, the girls look back to you.

“As for my clothing,” you contemplate lying, but what good would that do? “I couldn’t wear my clothes and jewelry in the jungle because of the heat. So I left the clothes behind and gifted the jewelry to a friendly village.” You’re met with scandalized looks, and the handmaidens glance at each other.

“Girls, the rules change in emergencies. If I had stuck to protocol, I would probably be dead.” The mention of your demise sobers them up, and they relax from their hovering position. “But I am tired and need to rest as Kix said.” The girls nod in unison and say their goodbyes, followed by the guards.

Once you and the medic are alone, you finally slump from the regal position you had forced yourself to maintain.

“Are they always so… smothering?” You try to laugh, but the ache in your side pinches hard enough for you to stop.

“It’s their job to worry over me. Like how you probably worry for your brothers.” Kix turns to you, surprised.

“Yeah. I do worry for my brothers because they’re idiots and get themselves hurt.” He sighs and pulls a chair next to your bed. “I love my brothers more than anything. This might not be my place to ask, but… what are your intentions with my captain?”  

“I… I don’t know.” He raises an eyebrow. “I never wished for harm to come to Re- the captain. I feel guilty that he was placed in the sole position to protect me, but I know that’s not my fault. It was a difficult journey, but-”

“Sorry to interrupt, but that’s not what I asked. What do you want to do with my vod ? Because I saw the way he acted when he thought you died. And I saw how he acted when he realized you lived.” He looks at you accusingly.

“What?” You hold your breath.

“Princess… we’re used to seeing people die. It’s part of the job description. But Rex broke down crying when he thought you died. He never does that. And it’s not like you’re best friends. You met three days ago. So tell me, princess, what do you want to do with my brother?” Kix continues staring. His eyes are identical to Rex’s, but also different. Kix— like all his brothers—holds himself differently from everyone else.

You don’t really know how to answer his question. Well you do, but you know you shouldn’t tell him the truth because it will only open a can of worms. But something in Kix's face, in his determination, forces you to speak.

“I think I’m in love with your brother.” You breathe out. Kix, to his credit, doesn’t bat an eye at your confession. Instead, he grins.

“I knew it. He could definitely use a girlfriend. Not sure how he’d be able to see you often because you are a princess and he’s busy enough as a captain but-”

“You aren’t mad?” Your head is light and fuzzy, and the world seems to both crash and freeze around you, but Kix has the audacity to joke around?

“Relax, princess. As long as you’re not leading my brother on or anything, I fully support it. Look, Rex has had to deal with a lot of shit. Having you in his life would do wonders for his health. And emotional state. I say this as a medic who’s-”

“Licensed to help with mental issues?” You say, smiling.

“Well, no, I never got trained for that, but it doesn’t matter.” He chuckles. A knock comes from the door, and he goes to open it.

On the other side, Rex stands, hands folded behind his back. Jaig eyes facing you.

“I’ll leave the two of you alone.” Kix sends you a small smile and claps his brother on the back before exiting. Rex steps forward, closing the door behind him.

The silence stifles the air, and you struggle to speak.

“I got you some flowers.” Rex pulls his hands from his back to reveal a small bouquet. It’s cute in a messy, childish way. “I picked some random flowers from the palace gardens. Sorry if they aren’t-”

You tug him forward, burying your face into his hard chest plate. Startled, the captain lays the flowers on the chair Kix had vacated.

“I love it.” You reach up, hands on either side of his helmet. After a gentle nod, you tug it off and set it aside. Bandages cover Rex’s face, and bruises decorate his cheeks. A split runs down his lips. Your finger brushes the wound before you realize that you’re moving. You both tense when you make contact, and you retract your finger.

“Rex, I want you to know that I-”

“This is the last time we should-”

You both stare at each other. He clears his throat. “You should go first.”

“No, you go.”

“Princess-”

“Why did you say ‘last time’? What’s that supposed to mean,” you whisper.

“This,” he gestures between the two of you, “can’t continue. I’m a captain, you’re a princess. This won’t end well for either of us, and it’s probably illegal. It would be easier to part ways.” He doesn’t look at you.

“Is that what you want? To never see each other again?” Your chest tightens.

“We have responsibilities. It’s a hard decision, but it must be done.”

“No, I won’t do it,” you choke out. “You know what wasn’t a hard decision? Throwing that bomb to kill off the droids before they reached you. That was easy to decide because I care for you.”

“That was a stupid decision, and you know it. If I had contacted Skywalker sooner or found you faster, you wouldn’t have gotten shot. I thought you died,” he says, voice cracking.

“It’s not your fault. I probably should have waited, but I didn’t have a choice. And besides, I’m alive, right?” He pulls away, face scrunching up.

“But what if you died, huh? What would happen to your people? To your family? To me? Kriffing hell, princess, I don’t know what I would have done if you really had passed on. How can I function as a soldier if I can’t cope with the grief of losing you?” He turns away, but you notice a stray tear slide down his face.

You brush it off without hesitation. “I understand that you’re worried about me. But I don’t want what-ifs to end what we have. Would you let hypothetical scenarios rule your life?”

Rex sighs. “The Jedi were right about attachments. About how they could destroy people.” He turns to you and gently takes your face in his hands. “But I’m not a Jedi.” And he leans in.

His lips are rough and chapped but deliciously soft. He slots perfectly against you, his breath equal parts inviting and destabilizing. You tighten your arms around him, body curling towards his. The space in your chest fills with something warm and heavy and full. His lips move slowly, taking the time to savor you. It’s a drawn out kiss, clumsy and awkward, but intoxicating nonetheless. Even the clinking of your teeth doesn’t stop either of you. But Rex pulls away quicker than you’d like, and you pout.

“Don’t be sad. There’s more where that came from.” You share matching grins.

“So does that mean you’re going to try?” His lips brush over yours, his warm breath mixing with your own.

He whispers your name with an air of reverence and says, “Yeah. We’ll make this work.” And he tugs you closer, capturing your lips once again.

#captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #clone wars #star wars fanfiction #diplomacy #a princess and her captain

[latent-thoughts]

I Will Always Test You (Chapter 1 - Prisoner)

[Co-Authored with @emeraldrosequartz​]

Rating : 18+ (there be lots of citrus here; kinks galore).

Warning: Forced Marriage; Dubious Consent; Nonconsent Touching; Use of strong language and terms.

Pairing: Loki/Original Female Character

Summary: Loki and Iona Trygvedottir have never gotten along. She is a headstrong lady-in-waiting to Queen Frigga, and Loki is... well, Loki. The simmering animosity between them begins to boil when Frigga chooses her to make regular visits to Loki in the dungeons, bringing him luxury foods and items of interest. She takes the opportunity to give him a piece of her mind. Meanwhile, he's set on paying her back for all the insults and slights she insisted on lobbing at him while he was locked up - in the most vindictive way possible.

[Thor: The Dark World AU; No Ragnarok; Enemies to Lovers, Arranged Marriage]

[NEXT CHAPTER]

_________________________________

IMPORTANT NOTES:

Bold Text = Loki's POV

Normal Text = Iona’s POV

_________________________________

Iona grumbled to herself while she carried the dusty old books to the dungeons.

"Take the books to the prince. Take the wine...take the damned raudrberries. They're his favourite! As if there's nothing better for me to do. Norns, I sometimes despise this station. This wasn’t why I had become the queen’s lady-in-waiting.”

The magical garb provided by the queen protected her, so she didn't bother about keeping her volume low. At least she could air her frustrations this way before reaching her destination, which was bound to annoy her to no end.

When she reached the prince's cell, she stepped in through the one-way magical barrier and dumped the books onto his table without so much as a greeting to him.

"The queen sent these for you," she stated primly, looking down her nose at Loki.

She didn't even hide the disdain in her voice this time around. He was a disgraced royal now; he had no one’s favour save for the queen’s. And that certainly didn’t shield him from Iona’s burning contempt.

"If his royal highness needs anything, he may tell me. Though, I don't guarantee that it will be delivered to you.”

She smirked as he turned to glare at her.

“Ah, Iona. So lovely to see you again,” Loki growled sarcastically as he lounged on the divan, returning to the book he had been reading...though why he should continue to entertain himself with THAT now that she was here…

“Anything new in the outside world? Perhaps a death, or a coup, or a sneaky little minx that might accidentally cause my release?” He smirked and watched for her reaction.

She laughed acerbically at his insinuation.

"Oh please. As if releasing you will do anyone any favours. I happen to think that you're finally in a place where you belong," she quipped, sniffing haughtily, knowing that he hated seeing her act like this. "Though the queen, bless her sweet heart, has a soft spot for you the size of the Yggdrasil, even she won't think of doing it, I believe. She knows that her son is a walking, talking bad influence, an inglorious wretch."

“Ooooh ‘inglorious wretch.’ Look at you, learning new insults. How long have you been waiting to call me THAT one, sweetling?” Loki stood, eyes still locked on her as he brought himself to his full height, intentionally becoming as intimidating as possible. He stared her down as he walked slowly towards her, taking long and languorous steps, almost panther-like.

“You’d know all about how bad of an influence I can be, won’t you, Iona? And since no one but my mother--who you already know is wrapped around my finger--knows you’re here… and no one outside can see anything unusual happening in this--” he waved his hand dismissively at the space around him “-- luxuriously accommodated fish bowl--” he bent down, nose to nose, daring her to flinch. “Perhaps you best watch your tone, girl.”

Iona tried her best to stand her ground, even though his proximity was unsettling. Damn him and his intimidation tactics.

"The queen may be bent on spoiling you, but she's not blind to your deeds, my prince," she said defiantly, placing a hand on his chest to push him back. The touch somehow felt more charged than it ought to; still, she persisted.

"But go ahead, deliver more empty threats. I'm really terrified."

She stared back at him in challenge, knowing full well that he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life here in the dungeons. There was nothing he actually could do.

And even when he was free, he couldn’t do much, for he knew the immunity she enjoyed under the queen’s protection. Hence, his threats of harm were almost always empty…

Loki half-smiled at her retort.

“I’m sure,” he purred, not moving an inch at her attempt to shove him back. “But a little terror--” he leaned closer, still focused on keeping her gaze firmly on his “--can add a bit of excitement to an otherwise dreary existence, can it not?”

His whole body pushed forward, forcing her back until she was pressed against the cell’s wall, and he chuckled from a very deep place in his chest. He tilted his head slightly to the side, watching her closely. “What kind of terror have you imagined I’m capable of, little one? I’ve attempted to destroy whole realms. I’ve nearly killed the mighty Thor on several occasions. I’ve survived more horrors than you could imagine…what can you do to resist me, you small, delicate little thing?”

He put a hostile finger under her chin, lifting her face to align with his.

"I'm not delicate," she fumed, nudging his finger away. "And you've listed the precise reasons why you'll never escape this prison. Being born a prince is no accomplishment."

His eyes seemed to glow in anger at her words, and finally, she tried to slip away sideways against the wall to escape their intensity. It didn’t work, for he blocked her by putting his palms against the wall on either side of her.

Loki had always unsettled her with his strange, predatory mannerisms, but she wasn't a simpering girl. She had learned to deal with him over the years.

"You'd also do well to remember that I'm a lady, a noblewoman. Your threats can land you in even more trouble than you're already in."

“Define ‘more,’” he chuckled, finally backing away and laying back down in the divan, his legs spread obscenely wide. “You may be a lady, but I am a prince. Despite my transgressions. I outrank you.”

He noticed her gaze gravitating towards his spread legs, especially lingering on his crotch. That reaction from her alone made him feel quite smug about his physicality.

“Besides,” he said, stretching himself across the cushions of the furniture he’d chosen to support his lean frame in the most sexually seductive way he could manage. “It’s not my ambition that concerns me. It’s yours, your ladyship.” He grinned, wrapping his hand behind his head. “How long have we known each other, Iona? How long have you been desperate to become more than a ‘handmaiden to the Queen’?”

His emerald eyes remained hooded as he settled back on his lounge.

“How many ages has it been since you decided you wanted to be a ‘princess’? And what, sweet girl, would you be willing to do for that title?”

She blanched at his insinuation, grasping the folds of her dress in consternation. How dare he!

It was true that she had been trained by her mother, since childhood, to somehow grow close to the royalty. Getting closer to the princes, in particular, had meant that one of them would eventually take interest in her.

However, that didn’t quite work out the way her ambitious parents had expected it.

Iona had not gotten along with Loki right from the start, for he had always managed to play some sort of mischief or trick on her. She didn’t think him unattractive--it was hard to miss his striking features--but she did think him utterly obnoxious. The obnoxiousness eclipsed the beauty in his case.

Hence, Thor had been the only other option. Honestly, Thor wasn't the kind of man that usually attracted her, but still, she had tried her best to attract him in the past. And she had been unsuccessful in her endeavour.

Loki knew all about that. And hence, he was now taunting her.

"I'm after nothing, my prince. I aim to serve the queen, that's all," she lied, trying to regain her composure in front of the infuriating man. "You're trying to stir an empty pot."

He smirked.

“Aha...” was his only response. God of Lies that he was, her charade merely amused him. And, now that he was facing an eternity of the same four walls, any amusement was gold.

“Well then. Best be on your way, to serve your queen.” He waited to see if she had more to say before departing… he certainly had a final word to give her, if she’d indulge him…

"Don't think to command me, fallen prince, I'm not your lady-in-waiting," she stated stiffly, her anger with him bubbling over in her words. "And as I said, do tell me what all you want. I'll relay it to the queen so that she can move ahead in her endeavour to spoil you rotten."

Loki settled deeper into the divan, leaving his legs spread as wide as he could. “Dear, if I were to tell you what I truly want, you would run from here, blushing like a virgin maiden. And despite your--” his hand circled in the air, as though he were trying to find the right words “-- insistence that my desires are those of a spoiled boy, I’m certain the queen would hardly be surprised by my… exotic tastes.”

Suddenly, his expression changed from one that was lax and disinterested to one that was challenging and feral.

“And what I want, the queen certainly can’t give me. That, little one, is solely up to you.”

He sat up, never breaking their intense eye contact.

“I admire your ambition, Iona. To become more than you were meant to be. To ruthlessly pursue what you want. You understand that drive; can you honestly judge me for making the attempt?” He stared at her, hard, awaiting her response.

Norns, the incorrigible man was pretending to be suggestive with her now… perhaps thinking that she’d be flustered.

She knew that this was all merely posturing on his part...

"I haven't any inkling of what you mean, Loki, for you and I are hardly comparable creatures," she said, deliberately taking his name this time, wanting to annoy him in turn with her impertinence. "But I do know that I haven't got the whole day to spend here. I'd rather do something much more engaging. This conversation is boring me to sleep."

She rolled her eyes at him and pretended to yawn.

"If that's all, and if you have no other requests to make, I'll be taking my leave."

“If that’s all...then I suppose that’s all.”

He smiled knowingly, picked up his book, and proceeded to completely ignore her.

She rolled her eyes again and then left in a huff, muttering to herself about the annoying jobs that the queen kept giving her. Why couldn’t she give this particular task to someone else? Why only her?

As she left… he checked out her ass--presented so well in that form hugging fabric of her dress. He wondered what it looked like under that flowing dress of hers. Perhaps, someday, he’d have a chance to find out...

To be honest, the girl was pretty enough, and he wasn’t averse to the idea of seeking pleasure between her willowy legs. Truth be told, her scathing wit was quite arousing… for nothing aroused Loki more than a sharp mind.

However, her transgressions against him were ever increasing, and hence, Loki also wished for a bit of revenge... 

-----

It wasn’t long after that that Thor brought his ailing mortal--Jane Foster--back to Asgard. She was possessed of the Aether, and targeted by the Dark Elves--long thought to be extinct by Asgard. They attacked the palace, led by Malekith, and in the battle, Odin was slain.

Thor and Loki forged a tentative alliance to save Jane and rid the universe of the Dark Elf threat.

Finally, after a risky battle, the brothers triumphed, saving Jane, defeating Malekith, and containing the Aether.

In their efforts together, Loki and Thor came to understand each other much better than before. And this was how Thor revealed to Loki that he truly wanted to stay on Midgard.

And Loki, gladly, accepted the throne of Asgard.

#loki fanfiction #Loki fanfic #my Loki fic #Loki/OFC #Loki/Original Female Character #IWATY Chapter 1 #IWATY #enemies to lovers #arranged marriage #romance #humor #adventure

[kileyrose-2003]

Dan Torrance x Fem! Reader Part 3

A/N: Hi lovelies! Here comes another one of my extremely angsty psychological dive into Rose and Crow’s relationship. Lol. Very, very emotional write for me. Some of you might be wondering after you read this on just how exactly and I will simply say one thing: The relationship between Rose and Crow is very explicitly written and there while as in the film it is implied. In this AU I wanted there to be a reason why Rose and Crow seem more distant, hence why I am taking my own spin to them like this.

Anyways, I love you guys! I know there are a lot of people on Tumblr right now as well as myself dealing with the affects of COVID-19 in our every day lives. If you ever need anyone to talk to, my DM’s are always open. I might not be a therapist but I am willing to help :) I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe, lovelies!

Link to intro is here , pt. 1, and Pt. 2

Enjoy!

Warnings: Trigger warning for mentioned/implied child abuse, child death, baseball boy scene, blood, gore

“..Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me and especially don’t fucking touch me.”

“Crow-”

“No, Rosie! This is your fault. Not her fault, it’s yours. You hurt her! You hurt our baby!” In a rare display of emotion, hot tears were streaming down Crow’s face.

Rose chose her words very carefully before speaking. “..She is not our baby. We did not birth her into this world. She never belonged to us in the first place. And, no. I don’t hate her. I am not jealous of her either and I am not entirely to blame for all this. While maybe your way of thinking on this not being her fault may be correct, you are part of the reason to blame.” Her tone was calm and diligent like a mother trying to keep a tantrum prone toddler calm. “I told you from the start, that I didn’t think it was a good idea for her to be here. In general, our way of life is not fit for any child.”

“I-”

“Don’t talk! Just listen. You however insisted at keeping her here when I told you it wasn’t fair to her to live like this. Once she seen what we did, I did not want her to live like this. Had we of just-”

“Rose, I wasn’t just going to send her back to where she came from! Because-”

“Because you grew attached to her! When I told you not to get to fond of her too quick because it was supposed to be a trial thing. We don’t give affection to rubes, Crow. It’s a rule of thumb. That’s what we gave to her though. Not just you, but me too and I will admit with that I was wrong but yet you fail to recognize the reason I brought her into this in the first place was to make you happy and whether you think it’s right or wrong to do what I did to make you happy: I don’t care. To knock some sense into her was the only option. That was the only way she was going along with the whole thing though. So I did what I had to do, even if I didn’t like it. None of that would of happened though had you just let her go.”

Crow sat there on the ground, staring at the falling leaves around him while he processed every word that Rose said to him. “Comments?”

He had none. Yet. His head felt like a over boiling tea pot waiting to just spill over and burn the person closest to him. In that case, Rose. It wouldn’t be the first time he killed one of his lovers. His rage was infrequent but when it came out, it was a force to be reckon with like a blazing fire. It was what he related to most. It was the only thing that had passion that burned and grew as quick as he did until he met Rose. Rose burned as bright, if not brighter than he did. Crow wanted to kill Rose right then and there and she felt it. They all felt it.

Rose was quick to step away despite of her certainty he wouldn’t kill her. Yet something gave her the maybe, just maybe, he would one day. She’d make sure to keep that under control though and keep her dragon tamed.

Just like it wouldn’t be the first he killed a love, it wasn’t the first time he was a father either. Though that time was as far from him as the setting sun was near his finger tips, the memories though old and a little wishy washy, were engraved into his mind. The smell of smallpoxs immediately entering his nostrils at the thought of it. Just like he hadn’t forgotten the name and face of his own child, he was sure he wasn’t going to forget yours either. Or the way it made him the feel the last time he got to speak to you.

You felt stuck and he was stuck too. Except unlike the first child he lost, you didn’t feel scared to leave him. You felt almost relieved. Like you could breath now while the other felt like they were drowning in fear and pain. It was in that moment he realized you were scared of him. You were afraid he’d hurt you at one point

‘No, I wouldn’t hurt her,’ He told himself over and over. He would of never intentionally tried to make you scared of him or put you in a position where you felt uncomfortable. You adored him and he loved you just as much, if not more, than you loved him. You were his baby, even if it meant he had to kill to have you.

Finally he had his comment and the words came out full of fury and rage. “..Bullshit. You all fucking lie!”

…

He wouldn’t touch Rose for months let alone look at her until she forced him too and even then, that was a battle. He wasn’t the same after that. He became more cynical, more distant. Almost an empty shell of the person he was.

Any out spoken nature he had and was replaced by soft spoken snarkiness. There was no more The Irish Rose and her Crow. Only the remnants of a broken past and flings that occurred in the event of their primal feedings. Nothing more and nothing less.

While the stars shined down on you and Danny brightly as you were yet again acting out your passions in the privacy of your own home, Crow Daddy stood in the darkness of the abandoned ethanol plant in Bankerton, Iowa as he sharpened the blade of his knife. The only lights shining on him were the glares of The True Knot’s RV’S nearly blinding him.

He felt soft hands rub up and down the bare skin of his upper arm and a head press against his shoulder. Rose. “I’m excited. It’s been months since we’ve done our thing, you know?” She nipped the cartilage on his ear and fought the urge to push her away. “Sure,” He grunted.

Rose furrowed her brows. “Aren’t we testy tonight?” Crow fought the urge to laugh in her face. “When am I not lately?” She bit her lips. “You’re really going to do this. Right now?”

“It’s not like what’s been between us is exactly a secret to anyone in the family, Rosie.” She pulled away from him slightly repulsed and stretched her arms. “I’m ready.” The reply was snappy and quick and Barry was quick to obey.

'The boy is going to be the one to suffer for that reply but who am I care?’ Crow thought to himself as he looked at the bite mark the Baseball Boy left on his hand. 'The little bastard deserves it.’

“No! No! Please don’t! No..” The first couple of times he had to bare witness and participate in the unholy act after you left, he could hardly take. There was a slight lapse of faith and for a while he thought maybe he just didn’t deserve to have children. Now was different though. He felt numb.

After being in constant agony for over 20 years his sympathy began to decrease and soon he felt nothing for anyone. As Rose knelt down to Bradley Trevor’s level he took his position behind her, standing tall. To child on the ground, he was terrifying but the rest thought nothing of him.

Rose gestured for the knife and he handed it over immediately. “A-are you going to hurt me?” The reply was husky and menacing. “Yes.”

There were screams of protest but Crow took no mind to them. “Pain purifies steam. Fear too. So now you understand.” The Baseball Boy let out a scream of protest before Rose stabbed deeply into him.

…

Meanwhile as you laid in bed next to Danny who was in a dead coma, you felt someone poking at your mind. “Danny, stop it.” You elbowed him. He grunted and slapped your ass cheek. “W-wha?”

“You’re poking in my head again. Stop it.” He rolled over onto his side and shoved his face into the pillow. “I’m trying to sleep.” You rolled your eyes and as you went to wrap your arms around him, you felt the poke again. Accept this time it hurt. Like an electric shock.

(Hello?! Hello! Please tell me you can hear me.)

You paused before responding.

(I can hear you.)

(Good! They’re hurting him and they won’t stop.)

(Who is they?)

The response terrified you.

(The woman in the hat.)

All the sudden you felt nauseous and you gripped at bed sheets. You knew what was going to happen and you were terrified. The room began to slant on an angle and you gripped onto the head board tightly.

“Babe! What are you doing?” Dan sat up in bed and his face went flat at seeing the expression on your face. “Honey?”

You tried to respond to him physically but couldn’t so instead you turned to the person in your head.

(You’re mine and my husband’s pen pal, aren’t you?)

(Yeah.)

(Are you comfortable with telling me your name?)

(Yeah, it’s Abra.)

(Well Abra, can I ask you to do me a favor?)

The room began to tilt on an angle and you felt your grip on the head board becoming lose.

(Anything.)

(If I get stuck in here, tell Dan I love him.)

Your fingers lost their hold on the frame and you began to spiral down into a dark hole. 'This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.’ You prayed, silently hoping Abra was wrong but something told you she wasn’t. The dark hole began to reach it’s end and you had enough time to see trees and a sign that read 'NO TRESPASSING: BANKERTON ETHANOL PLANT’ When you felt the spiraling of your body stop.

Your astral body hit the ground hard and you had to spit the dirt out of your mouth. “Ugh, gross.” You attempted to reach forward to try and find something to grip onto that way you could stand up but your hand connected with human skin.

“Oh shit!” You scrambled back at the sight of Barry and you felt your body beginning to levitate upwards. “No! No! Please, please! I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to see it!” Your body wouldn’t move though. You had to look. Unless you were going to get stuck here and hesitantly you opened your eyes. “Oh my god! Stop! Stop! Please stop!”

Your body began to lower and suddenly you felt eyes on you. One of them heard you. “No! No! No! No!” A hand ran itself through your long locks and you trembled.

“What is it?” You knew that voice and you didn’t have to open your eyes to know who was infront of you.

(Look at me.)

You shook your head but felt fingers lifting your head up to force you to look at them and slowly you opened them to see Rose. Her hands covered in blood and her eyes full of steamy lust.

(Well, hi there sweetie!)

Panic began to rise inside you and you reached out to Abra.

(Ru-)

Before you could even finish your thought, Rose plunged the knife back into the Baseball Boy and you let out a scream. “Holy shit! Holy shit!” You screeched feeling his pain.

(Funny how things come around isn’t it, Y/n?)

“Stop! Stop! Rose, please stop! Just stop!” Just as Danny was about to lay back down he jumped up in bed and gently shook your shoulders. “Y/n?! Baby? What’s wrong.”

(You got a friend there, Y/n? I want to see him.)

As Dan leaned over to caress your cheek, you pushed him back. “Y/n!” You could feel the rise Rose was getting out of your pain and it made you mad. You wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of getting kicks off your pain. “Get away from me, Danny! Get away!”

Instead of now just seeing Rose in your eyeshot all of them were in eyeshot with those haunting blue eyes staring at you and you slammed your head against the back of the bed. “Make it stop, Danny! Make it stop!”

This time when you tried to push him away, he held your arms down against your chest that way he could try to wake you up. “She’s going to see you Danny!”

(Yes, Danny. I am going to see you. That your little friend you made down in Florida?)

“Shut up!” You screamed. “Who’s going to see me?!”

“No!”

“God damn it, Y/n! Who do you see?”

BAM!

The room shook and Danny landed backwards onto the hardwood floor. Now he was pissed, not at you but whoever it was he couldn’t see. He grabbed your wrist to stop you from pushing him away. “Leave her alone!”

As Dan continued to shake your body and beg for you to wake up, the astral world around you began to slide. This time you were hanging upside down as you fell and as you did, yours and Crow Daddy’s eyes unintentionally interlocked though he would be aware enough to know it.

As you slammed back into your physical body, you rolled off the bed and hit your head on the dresser. “Oww!” You screeched and started sobbing. Dan tried to pull you into a hug but you kicked at him. “No! No!”

“Y/n-” You let out a scream. “Just leave me alone!” Danny backed away and you let out a sob. “What happened?” He asked gently as he scooped you up into his arms like you were a child. Normally you would protest said act but for right now, you didn’t care. You needed the comfort and that’s how he was giving it.

“They killed him..” You sobbed and you felt Danny let out a sigh as he ran his fingers through your hair. “They killed who?”

“That poor little boy!” You let out a screaming cry and buried your head in his shoulder. “Okay..okay.” You choked on your own sobs and nuzzled closely to him. “It’s alright.”

…

Meanwhile thousands of miles away, the lights of RV’s shined brightly in the darkness of the Iowa night on Crow and Rose as they buried the baseball boy.

As Rose finished throwing her scoop of dirt over Bradley Trevor’s glove she paused for a moment and looked at the ground. “We had a looker.” Crow stopped what he was doing and for the first time in years she actually seen a glint of what she would like to think was excitement in his dark eyes. “Tonight?”

“Yeah.” Rose dropped the shovel on the ground and Crow did the same. “East Coast, I think.” He furrowed his brows. “You’re saying someone looked in from I’ve 10,000 miles away?”

“Could of been farther. Could of been up in Canada, but it gets better. She wasn’t alone either.” Rose smirked slightly. “Y/n was with her.”

They say a picture is worth 1000 words but in that moment Crow Daddy’s face had an expression of infinite emotions. He tried tracking you down a few times after you ran but he honestly wondered what good it would do. He didn’t have to be in your mind to you were petrified of Rose and he figured you probably would want nothing to do with him. His mouth went dry and he felt like he wanted to throw up. “What?”

“Oh yeah and she wasn’t happy to see me either. The second she seen me stab into the kid she was out of there so fast and back to her man friend.”

“Man friend?” He looked boggled. “Oh yeah. Danny is his name. She wouldn’t let me get a look at him though..or the looker but I swear Crow Daddy, I haven’t felt power. Raw power like that off the looker than I’ve felt in so long..”

“Then do you think we should look into it? The sooner the better. Before her parents send her to a psychiatrist. Put her on pills. Muffle the steam and make her harder to find.”

“No, giving paxil to this kid is like putting a piece of saran wrap over a search light. And when either of them come back and trust me, I’ll know they’ll be back, I’ll be ready. Oh I’ll be ready..”

Crow dreaded the prospect though. He didn’t want to see you older. A little bit younger than him. It served as a reminder that time went comes and goes fast and there was no buying more of it. For the rubes at least.

“Besides,” Rose straightened her posture as if she was reflecting back on another thought. “What is tied can never be untied.” As Crow raised an eyebrow Rose met the look with a smirk.

…

Your hands shook as Danny handed you a cup of tea. “There we go.” He wrapped you up with a blanket from behind and hummed appreciatively “Thank you.” He nodded and there was an awkward moment of silence as he stared at the REDRUM on the wall in the next room. “So you going to tell me now or never?”

 "Danny,“ You begged and he shushed you. "Just listen to me. I think it would help if you told me about it though.”

“There’s a reason why I don’t talk about my childhood, Dan.” He squeezed your hand. “I know.” You kissed the tops of his knuckles. “It’s painful.” Your voice started to crack.

“If you’re afraid of me thinking differently of you, I would never. I love you for you. Whatever they did, it’s not on you. Please baby, I know it’s hurting you. Just let me in.”

You sighed and looked down at your kitchen counter. “You remember when you met me all those years ago in Florida?” He nodded and rubbed the tops of your hands. “I was only there for a brief amount of time. I moved around alot as a kid. For a while I never really understood why.”

“You mentioned your family was pretty nomadic but what does this have to do with anything?” Dan asked softly and continued to caress your skin. “The people who raised me, they were special like us. They shined maybe as much, if not more than we did. There are things out there, dark things, that hurt people like us.” Tears started to well up in your eyes. “Y/n-”

“They make people like us never be seen again and they warned me about the dark things and told me to stay away from them but I didn’t know I really didn’t have to worry about them at the time.”

Dan wiped one of your tears away, trying to ignore the hairs sticking straight up on his arms. “Why?” Your teary eyes interlocked with his. “Because I was living with the dark things that hurt people like us.” His posture stiffened and he slowly let go of your face. “What?” You ignored his question, continuing to ramble on.

“They always looked the same. It was the strangest thing. My grandpa went from having a limp in his leg to walking without a cane over night and sometimes when they were near me, my one uncle always looked at me like he was hungry. I was nine and we were staying long term in Georgia for the winter because I was sick. It made my mom a nervous wreck, so she’d stay with me every night while I slept and the one night I woke up over night and she wasn’t there so I panicked and I just remember hearing these screams. They were awful. Like these husky barks and even though I was supposed to be in bed I got up to look for my mom and when I got up she was on top of this little boy and she was-” You choked up a little bit. “She was gutting into him like he was a fish and they were eating him.”

“Like Hannibal Lecter eating him or-” You shook your head. “His shine. They were drinking his screams and pain too.” Dan looked so upset. “Honey.” Your body wracked itself with sobs. “And I’ll never forget the look on his face! Like he was being violated.”

“W-what did they do when they seen you were there?” You tried to wipe some tears away but they just kept pouring rapidly. “Most of them didn’t care or notice at first. My dad on the other hand looked so mortified. I can’t remember if it was him or my mom that picked me up and kept telling me over and over again it was out of survival and that I wasn’t supposed to see it. That it was all for the better. That way they could live longer and be healthier and that they wouldn’t hurt me. They could never hurt me like that.”

“Please don’t tell me you believed them.” His tone almost sounded judgemental and you became defensive. “Dan! What was I supposed to do? They were my family and it’s not like I had any where to go to. Despite what they did, I still loved him even though part of me was scared of them.”

“Sorry! Sorry! I’m just trying to wrap my head around all this.” He kissed the top of your head and you had to supress the urge to just shove him away. “Could you live like that? Live a lie?”

“I kept my mouth shut, Danny and if you were in my shoes you would of done the same. For about 7 years we went on like that until my dad left for business for about a week and I finally couldn’t take it anymore and then truth came out about everything.”

You let out a screaming sob as Rose threw plates around you. “..They would of never of been able to provide for you the way your father and I did! Those rubes pigs were selfish and given the chance, they would of used you and abused you even more than they already did.”

You shook your head feverishly, trying to block out Rose’s word. “You were so desperate to have someone love you, that I barely even had to wipe your mind. You were so touch starved that we practically did nothing but hold you the first couple of weeks you were here. We loved you when no one else did! Not even your fucking mother.”

You choked on your own sobs and slumped down to the ground, not caring if the broken glass on the ground cut into your fragile skin. Rose knelt down to your level and began to pull some of the shards. “But don’t worry though, honey. Daddy fixed that issue.”

You felt your blood run cold and you tensed. “W-what do you mean?” Part of you knew the answer to that question though and you dreaded hearing it come out of her mouth. Rose reached up into a nearby drawer and pulled out an old Polaroid photograph. “Does that answer your question?”

“OH GOD!” You screamed and broke back into hysterics. “He never did it to hurt you. You wanted her dead. Trust me. It was all out of love, my sweet. Every single piece of it was out of love.”

"T-that’s not love!” You stuttered. “No?” Rose’s tone was cynical. “No!..”

“Y/n-”

“14 years, Danny. 14 fucking years, I let them scare me into thinking all people were bad besides them and I thought they were my family the whole time yet it was all just a lie!” Dan wrapped his arms around your waist and planted a kiss on your cheek, trying to process it all. Your water works started up all over again and Danny sighed. “Y/n..Y/n, it’s not your fault.”

“It is Danny! It fucking is! And then she started hitting because she knew I despised her for the truth and it hurt so bad because we went from being so close to so far apart.”

“Baby-”

“My trust with the rest of them too was so torn because they all knew what she was doing and they hid. Over two years I had to lie my dad because I didn’t want to make him upset because he was the only one of them that I trusted and then I let him kill my mother..”

“You were a child, honey. You couldn’t of known. It’s not your fault and that’s all over now. I’m here.” He rocked you back and forth as you cried into him. “And the worse part is that even after everything they’ve done to me, part of me still loves and misses them sometimes.”

Dan’s mind drifted back to his own father and he tensed, understand what it was like to still love the abuser even though they caused more damage than could be repaired. “I know, baby..I know. It’s a fucked up cycle.” You nuzzled close to him.

“Don’t leave me, Danny!” You begged. “I won’t..it’s okay.” As you wept into him, Danny looked off to the side room that had the ominous REDRUM scrawled on the walls and hugged you tight.

“We need to keep that little girl away from them Dan. They’ll hurt her.” He pulled away from you. “We? No! No there is no we in this. If anything, we should stay out of this.”

“Dan! You’re being selfish. We can’t just abandon this little girl.” He shook his head. “It’s not abandoning her if I tell her to keep her head down.”

“That’s the exact opposite of what we should do!” Dan huffed and you placed a kiss against his cheek, cradling his face in your hands. “Look, just listen with an open mind. Okay?”

He nodded and your eyes interlocked with his baby blue ones. “I know they work, Danny. That’s why they took me. To use my shine to find people. They’ll prey on people who put their heads down because it’s easier for them to seem like the good guys. It’ll make her more of a sitting duck. To make her hide this, all of this, it’ll just kill her self esteem and her herself. You have to encourage her.”

“Why me?”

“Because besides me, you’re probably the only person that hears her Dan. Who understands her. She knows you more than me because she turned to you first. You’re the only one who probably interacts with her the way people like us can.” You held his hands in yours. “Do you remember how lonely you felt being younger? We can’t let that happen to her.”

“And I can’t let you get hurt either. If these people, whatever the hell they’re called can find that little girl-”

“Abra. Her name is Abra,” You corrected but Dan only rolled his eyes. “-They probably can find you and I just-”

Dan visibly shivered. “I don’t want to even picture in my mind what things they’d do to you or what would happen you if they found you.” He cupped your face and took in all your features. “I-i’d never be able to live with myself, knowing I could of prevented it. I can’t- I won’t let them hurt you. They’ve done enough damage.”

“So that’s it? We’re just abandoning her?” Dan rubbed his face. “I wouldn’t call it that just..cutting ties for a while.” You pushed away from him and rolled your eyes. “Y/n, I’m sorry but I don’t want you getting killed!”

“Just don’t talk to me right now, Danny. I want to be alone.” You went back to yours and Danny’s bedroom and locked the door before he could get it. “Y/n..come on baby.”

“I told you I want to be alone.” You sat down with your back against the door and Danny did the same from the other side. “Okay..Honey?”

“Yes, Dan?” He laid his hand against the woods barrier between the both of you. “I love you.” Despite how mad you were, you smiled slightly and did the same. “I love you too..now go. Please.”

Dan did as you asked and as he made his walk to the guest room in the second floor of your house, he stopped at the spare room. Staring at the REDRUM on the wall before picking up a piece of chalk and scrawling a quick message. 'Abra: I hope you’re okay and you have a better day tomorrow. Your friends, Dan and Y/n.’

#doctor sleep #dr sleep #imagine #imagines #fanfiction #crow daddy #abra stone #rose the hat #Danny Torrance #dan torrance #x fem reader #x female reader #stephen king #The Shining #the true knot

[hermannsthumb]

concept/prompt idea if you feel so inclined: newt had a cute but incredibly shitty local public access show as a little kid where he screeches about frogs and lizards and whatnot like a tiny coyote peterson, hermann finds out somehow and never lets him live it down ever but is also endeared because oh my GOD

hehehehe....

“You’ll be fine,” Newton says, as he struggles, in vain, to do up Hermann’s bowtie. “Really. It’s a piece of cake. I’ve done it a million times.” He drops his hands in frustration. “Jesus, how does this thing work?”

Hermann tsks, and then begins to fret a bit, one-handed, over the bow tie himself. Fretting is second nature to Hermann. Today has him fretting even more than usual: there were early alarms to be set, dry-cleaning to be picked up (Newton’s singular good suit had a large splotch of cocktail sauce on the lapel from years ago, Hermann’s good trousers had chalk on the seat and cocktail sauce from where Newton, incensed at Hermann for mocking him over his spilled cocktail sauce, smeared it in retaliation), cabs to be hailed, and, in nine minutes and twenty-five seconds, a television interview to be had. “Oh, we should’ve gone with the clip-on.”

“Clip-on’s not professional enough,” Newton says. “Everyone would be able to tell.”

The irony of Newton pointing something out as unprofessional is not lost on Hermann. Nor is the full meaning of Newton’s earlier statement; realization hits Hermann belatedly, but it still hits him. “What do you mean you’ve done it ‘a million times’?”

“Oh,” Newton says, airily. “You know.”

“I don’t,” Hermann says.

“TV,” Newton says. He finally manages to correctly knot Hermann’s bow tie, and cuts off Hermann’s attempts to question just what, exactly, he’s referring to by TV, by crowing in triumph. “Ha! There.” He curls up onto the toes of his boots--no amount of sweet-talking from Hermann could coerce him into wearing dress shoes, or even scraping off a little bit of mud from the soles--and plants a kiss on Hermann’s cheek. “Looking good, hottie.”

Hermann begins to flush. “Newton,” he half-chastises, because they’re in plain view of the backstage crew.

Newton plants another kiss at the corner of his mouth, this time, and smooths his palms down the front of Hermann’s dress jacket. “Looking really good.” He noses at Hermann’s neck, and lowers his voice, “I can’t wait to until we get back to the hotel, and I can—”

“Newton,” Hermann hisses, and Newton merely grins.

The interview goes smoothly. For Newton, anyway; Hermann’s sure he sat stiff-as-a-board for all of it, his eyes wandering everywhere, twisting the head of his cane over and over in his fingers, startling and stuttering for ten seconds whenever a question was posed to him before launching into a meandering and confusing response. But Newton really did seem at home: he smiled, he joked, he bantered, he touched Hermann’s knee, flung an arm around him at one point, had an answer prepared for every single question and then some.

Hermann would chalk it all up to Newton’s rock-star flamboyance bravado if Newton hadn’t led him to suspect otherwise. As it is, it’s clear that he has done this sort of thing before.

Hermann waits until they make it back to their hotel room, and Newton is cracking open the overpriced minibar--for celebratory off-brand sodas, he said--before he accosts Newton.

“So,” he says, at Newton’s hunched-over back. “Will you tell me what you meant now?”

Newton rises to his feet too quickly and knocks his head on the top of the fridge. “Fuck,” he says, and Hermann winces in sympathy. “Ow. Tell you what I meant about what?” He presses one of the soda cans to the spot he’d just hit.

“Being on television before,” Hermann says.

A very strange look flits across Newton’s face. “Uh,” he says. “You know. Those interviews I did years ago, back in 2013 or something.”

Hermann does remember, now that Newton mentions it. It’d been around the time they’d started corresponding. Newton had gone on television to voice his support for the kaiju being extraterrestrial in origin, and everyone’d taken one look at him--twenty-three, short, pink streaks in his hair, piercings, Buddy Holly glasses with a crack running across the bottom of one lens--and ruthlessly mocked him for weeks to come. Then invited him back to more talk shows to mock him some more. “Ah,” Hermann says. “I do remember.”

It doesn’t feel entirely the truth--Newton still looks oddly shifty, like he’s concealing something from Hermann--but Hermann feels guilty for making Newton relive a bad memory anyway, so he drops it.

“Soda?” Newton says. He offers the one not pressed to his forehead, but the act seems to remind him of why he pressed the other to his forehead in the first place. “Fucking hope this doesn’t bruise,” he says, darkly. Then he bats his eyelashes. “Will you kiss it for me?”

Hermann beckons Newton over.

Two years later, the conversation has slipped from Hermann’s mind entirely. He and Newton have better things to do, after all, besides give television interviews about their work during the war and make appearances at galas which require them to buy new ties and dryclean out cocktail sauce. They’re teaching again, and working on compiling their wartime research in their free time (three books--individual and joint), and, most importantly, enjoying each other. (Newton is skilled in a lot of areas in which Hermann is not, and he’s more than happy to share those skills with Hermann.)

Then one day, Hermann walks in to his eleven-AM lecture to find half of his students huddled around a single cell phone. They snap up, guiltily, to his attention, but only after Hermann has to resort to knocking his cane against the wood of his podium and clearing his throat repeatedly.

“...Yes?” Hermann says.

None of them speak. Then, after a few shared glances, the boy who’s phone it is says “We found your husband’s old TV show.”

Hermann furrows his brow. “You must be mistaken,” he says. “Newton’s never—”

The boy holds up his phone.

“When were you going to tell me?” Hermann says, the instant he walks through their apartment door that afternoon. Newton had off today, which means he spent the day running errands and finishing up household chores (taking out the trash, loading the dishwasher). He’s also started dinner, as the pot boiling over on the stove and Newton’s bright pink apron suggest.

“Hi, babe,” Newton says. He turns down the burner and smiles over his shoulder. “Tell you what?”

“Into the Wild with Newt,” Hermann says, ominously, and Newton blanches.

The video had not, truthfully, been very embarrassing. More endearing than anything, though with terrifically poor camera quality. (Nothing like the clips of Newton at twenty-three they’d featured on Buzzfeed for days after word got out that that was the Dr. Newton Geiszler who almost fried his brain to help save the world.) Newton had been no older than ten, with coke-bottle glasses and a missing front tooth, and it’d featured him on a cheap soundstage with equally cheap (and clearly hand-painted) cardboard safari sets, along with a few oversized ferns, as he squeaked excitedly about a type of iguana. The whole thing had been no longer than twenty minutes.

What more: there were more of them. Nearly thirty more. All featuring a tiny, freckled Newton going on and on about different amphibians and reptiles and insects, often with the amphibian or reptile or insect in question resting in the palm of his hand or (in the case of a lazy-looking snake) curled around his shoulders.

Hermann is charmed. Newton is not.

“I was eight,” he moans, hiding his face in his hands as Hermann clicks play on yet another. “It was a public access thing. My uncle made the sets.”

On Hermann’s laptop screen, Newton laughs as a fat tree frog eats a dead cricket from his fingers.

“You were adorable, darling,” Hermann teases. “Look at your safari hat.”

Newton swipes for the laptop, but Hermann holds it out of his reach; meanwhile, eight-year-old Newton kisses the frog’s head with a big grin. “How’d you even find this, anyway?” Newton huffs, even redder than before. “I deleted them off everywhere.”

“My students showed me,” Hermann says. He pauses the video to scroll to the YouTube channel name; it looks as if it might be the network Newton’s television show aired on decades ago. The uploads themselves are only a few months old. “I reckon they found the old recordings and uploaded them.” He adds, heavily sarcastic, “Since you’re such a rockstar now.”

Newton hides his face in Hermann’s shoulder. “Turn it offfff.”

Hermann shuts the laptop. For now. He doesn’t stop grinning. “You should revive it. Do you still have the sets?”

“You’re the worst,” Newton says. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I married you.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #hehe this was so fun to write #frogmuppet

[gwaciechang]

Stars, Hide Your Fires (1/5)

“Roll away your stone I will roll away mine Together we can see what we will find Don’t leave me alone at this time For I am afraid of what I will discover inside”

There’s dubcon kissing and touching in this because Dixie’s a prostitute and Laurie doesn’t actually want to sleep with him when they pay him. Specifically, when the elevator door closes, and after they’ve eaten pasta.

I’ve never hired a sex worker before, so I don’t know whether the prices here are correct or not. I’ve also never actually watched Murder on the Home Front, just gifs, nor do I actually want to, so if somebody could link me to a compilation of just Dixie’s scenes, that’d be great.

If you want to be tagged in future installments for this, please let me know by either commenting or replying to it. Thanks!

Somewhere, a person falls from an iron maiden into the arms of a scared stage manager. Elsewhere, a person is driving the man they don’t know they’ve married to a methadone clinic. And in a different place entirely, someone is playing guitar to their neighbor.

Meanwhile, you’re taking a garbage bag full of moldy cakes to the dumpster.

“You going to be okay?” Shelley asks.

“It’s five steps from the door, what's going to happen? The cakes become sentient and try to eat me back?” you offer him your most reassuring smile. “Go home, Shelley. Let me close up today.”

“Drive safe,” Shelley says as he walks to his car. You have no doubt that he’s actually going to sit in his car until he sees you leave. Well, this shouldn’t take you more than five minutes.

It does, because you almost step on a person about to go down on someone.

You let out a little shriek, which makes the man look up. You forgive him immediately, because he’s really, really attractive. He’s not really dressed for the night chill, and you can see suppressed shivers. The warmest thing on him is the old-fashioned cap you think you’ve seen in a museum somewhere, beneath which shone perceptive eyes in a sharp, elfin face.

“Hey!” you croak out. “Not here!”

“I paid good money for this,” the woman above him snarls

You hold your ground. “I don’t care, you still can’t fuck at the back of this restaurant. Just be glad my manager isn’t the one who caught you.”

The woman opens her mouth to yell at you, but the man in the old-timey hat gives you both a swollen-lipped, charming smile. “I won’t charge you while we find better accommodations,” he runs a finger down her cheek.

“Alright, dearest,” the woman smiles back cloyingly, and then they’re gone. You breathe a sigh of relief as you go inside and hang up your apron.

The day had been terrible. One of the cooks had burned a steak that Shelley had to remake while trying to keep them from crying. A waitress had spilled watermelon juice on a customer, so then Shelley had to sweet-talk them from yelling at her. And that brought you to now, hours and possibly days after someone had knocked the plug for the dessert freezer, turning all the cakes moldy. You end up having to take another fifteen minutes to drop all the cakes into the dumpster, mourning the time the newbie baker spent making them, and ignoring the grunts coming from far too closely.

By the time you finally get to your car, even Shelley has clearly decided to leave, but the man in the old-timey hat is still in the street corner, leaning against the wall of the building that always smells like burning chemicals of some sort. You walk up to him, intending to thank him for saving your ass earlier.

He looks you up and down before licking his lips lasciviously. “Looking for a good time?” he walks closer.

You're not stupid, you know prostitutes frequent this area, but it’s never been your business. Everybody has to make money, and as long as nobody gets hurt-

And now he’s close enough that you can see the swelling around his eye. You have to squint to see the bruise, meaning it’s been covered up by a practiced hand.

“Who hurt you?” you step closer to him.

“No one,” his smile doesn’t fade, but he visibly tenses.

“Then who punched you in the face?” god, you need to stop being as frank as your roommate. Blunt might serve Alex well, but you’re not a journalist, you’re waitstaff. “Never mind, what’s your name?”

“Matt,” he lies.

“Okay, ‘Matt,’ How much do you charge?”

Just like that, the Cheshire grin is back. “A hundred an hour, double if you want to do weird shit.” He looks you up and down again, slower this time, deliberate, like he’s undressing you. “But for you, I think we could negotiate.”

“How much for a whole night?”

“Matt” scoffs, “No offense, but I don’t think you can afford a whole night.”

You think about how much food you have left in your apartment, how long it’s been since Alex has had an article, how there’s the outline of another bruise below “Matt’s” collar, and your mind’s made up. “How much?”

“Matt” looks surprised, and it takes a while for the smile to return. “Five hundred,” he says finally, “half up front, half in the morning.”

“I’m guessing you need it in cash?” your last roommate was a meth addict, you learned how this works. “I have to hit the ATM. My car’s this way,” you wave him along.

“Wow, hot, rich, and smart,” he falls into step with you. “You’re going to be fun.”

You blush, even though you know it’s his job to pretend to be attracted to people. “Not rich, just financially savvy.”

“Except when you hire a prostitute for the whole night,” “Matt” points out.

“You’ve got a point,” you shake your head at yourself.

The moment the elevator doors close, “Matt” gets into your space, pushing you up against the wall and sliding a hand down to squeeze your ass.

You push him off you with a yelp. “What the hell?”

“It’s what you’re paying for, gorgeous,” his whisper is hot, but his lips and hands are cold. “Calm down, let me take care of you,” he keeps his grip on your ass when he presses his hips forward, and, okay, this has to stop before you lose your mind.

Thankfully, the elevator dings right then, and “Matt” straightens out, wiping his kiss-swollen lips and walking out like a normal person. He stays silent until you both enter your apartment, where Alex is sitting in front of their computer munching on a block of cheddar cheese like some sort of heathen. Their eyes narrow as they take in you, then “Matt.” Too late, you remember the “investigative” part of “investigative journalist.”

“A threesome is extra,” “Matt’s” eyes go wide as he looks between the two of you.

Alex’s jaw drops, as does the piece of cheddar in their mouth. “Laurie, what did you do?”

“Matt” covers his face with his hands and groans. “You’re not going to try to peddle the Bible to me, are you?”

Alex snorts. “As if either of us are in a position to preach.”

“Sinners, both of us,” you agree, grabbing your handtowel out of the bathroom and running warm water over it. “Come, sit on the toilet,” you motion.

“Matt’s” eyes squeeze shut as you wipe the makeup off his face, even though you’re going as gently as you can, to reveal the purple ring around his eye.

“Put some ice on that,” Alex says at the door, holding a bag of frozen peas out to you.

“Matt” says nothing, but judging from the unhappy tilt to his mouth, he’s probably only letting this happen because he’s getting paid.

“Thanks,” you take it from them gratefully and have “Matt” press it against his face. “So, you hungry?” you ask, walking out to the kitchen.

“What do you want?” “Matt” asks flatly, “I’m not complaining, but six hundred dollars is a bit much for a therapy session.”

“It’s cold out,” you say lightly. “Days like these, I know I want to eat something hot.”

“Matt” thrusts the bag of frozen peas back to you. “I don’t need saving.”

“I know,” you don’t tell him that you’re lonely. You also don’t tell him that the last three people you saw around the building he came out of were dead.

There must be something in your face that gets his approval, because “Matt” puts the bag of peas back on his face. “Macaroni and cheese,” he says, before sitting stiffly on the couch.

“The macaroni I can do,” you dig the box of pasta out of the cupboard. “Unfortunately, the cheese,” you nod to the cheddar in Alex’s hand.

They shove the rest of the cheese in their mouth, probably just out of spite. But then they wave you into their room, just after you put the pasta in the pot to boil. They lean down to the safe they have in the corner, next to the closet, and opens it to reveal more money than you’ve ever seen at once. “When you get the sort of assignments I do, you learn to keep a thousand dollars in cash ready to go,” they say ruefully. “How much do you need?”

“I can’t-”

“Can he?” Alex cants their head to the guest in the living room.

You take the money. For some reason, Alex takes their laptop and shuts their door after this. Music blares from their room, and then it’s just you and “Matt” in the living room.

You sit uncomfortably at the dining room table across from him, and you eat in silence. “Here,” you say finally, handing over the other half of the five hundred.

“Matt” doesn’t touch it, instead coming to stand in front of you. In between one blink and the next, he’s straddling you.

“Matt-”

“Let’s figure out how to make you feel good,” he murmurs against your jaw before swooping down to kiss you, hot, wet, and absolutely filthy. His lips curve against yours when you shiver from it, and only now do you realize you’ve been kissing back. He tastes like your boxed pasta, like mint, like that weird burnt chemical smell from the building he came out of.

You wrench away. “Jesus, stop, fuck!”

“Matt” frowns at you. “Why?”

“Fuck, I don’t need-” your voice cracks. “You don’t have to do anything. I’m sorry,” your legs are shaking too hard to stand up, but “Matt” gets off you regardless and sits on the couch.

“I’m clean,” “Matt” says quickly. “I go to the clinic every week. You need to see the test results?”

“No,” you manage to stand mostly without staggering. “I only have sex with people who want it.”

“Matt” scoffs. “Well I want what you paid me for,” he nods to the money that’s still on the kitchen table.

“Well, I paid you to sleep on this couch,” you nod to it. “Do you want a blanket?”

“You’re no fun,” “Matt” spends too long rolling his eyes for it to be sincere. “I’d like a pillow, too.”

You get them for him, and then you lock your bedroom door and spend less than a minute jacking off before orgasming as silently as you’re capable of.

#dixie #shelley #drug reference #prostitution tw #into the joeyverse #joey i am literally begging you not to look through this tag

[today-we-will-survive]

Epilogue: Young Forever

written by @dimpled-gukkie

A story based on the fictional HYYH world about six boys with unimaginable problems and their friend that can’t do anything to help.

Genre: fluff

Warning: warnings are posted in my masterlist

Word Count: 1.9K

Parts can be found on my Masterlist under “The Most Beautiful Moment In Life”

A/N: Please go leave some comments or anon asks about this series. She worked really hard on these and I know it would make her day :)

Three Years Later.

Jin climbs the steps of the apartment building, slowly making his way to the fourth floor. He can already hear voices seeping through the thin apartment walls and into the hallway, filling the fourth floor with the comforting voices of his best friends. Before he can even put the key in the door to his apartment, the one directly across opens.

“Hyung!”

Jin nearly falls over as a newfound weight lands on his back, a small set of hands wrapped around his shoulders. “We missed you so much, we’re starving!”

Jin huffs before pulling the hands away from him and opening his door. “What do you say?” His voice is teasing, the tone you use when trying to coax a child into using manners.

“Please!” Jimin whines while smiling so wide that his eyes are basically closed, smushed by his chubby cheeks. Jin has to resist the urge to pinch them, happy to see that they are no longer hollow like they were a few years back.

He pretends to ponder his answer before “reluctantly” sighing and swinging his door wide open. “I guess I can make you something.”

In reality, Jin knows that if he doesn’t make food for the group, they’ll most likely starve or order pizza for every meal. The rest seem to lose all brain cells when in the kitchen if the many near disasters are anything to go by. Jin distinctly remembers the time Namjoon not only burned one of his favorite pans but Jungkook also managed to get potatoes stuck to a plate and defied all laws of gravity.

“Jin Hyung is making dinner!” Jimin yells into the hallway beckoning the rest of their friends to Jin’s small apartment. The first to rush out are Taehyung and Jungkook, which is no surprise as they both never stop eating. Pausing in the doorway, Jin waits for the rest to arrive before sighing as the other two apartments on the floor remain occupied.

“Are Hobi and Yoongi still working on their mixtapes?” Jin asks as he begins pulling pots and pans out of the cupboards. As a college student struggling to not accumulate student loan debt, all he has to make is an unhealthy amount of ramen. Jin proceeds to pick through his numerous flavors of packaged noodles when the door opens. Before Jimin can open his mouth to answer, Yoongi enters.

“Wow, Jin hyung. Look at you, you’re a true college student.” Jungkook snickers nearly earning him a whack on the back of the head.

“Yah! You should be nice to the one who’s making you food.” Jin chides before pouring water into the pot. He can hear Jimin softly scolding Jungkook to be nicer to his hyung and smiles. Jiminie has always been such a sweetheart.

“How’s the mixtape going?” Jin asks Yoongi while filling the pot with water. He glances in Yoongi’s direction while turning off the faucet to make sure that the boy is actually taking care of himself. Yoongi had a habit of throwing his health aside for his music, but hopefully with Hoseok working alongside him, he will take care of himself.

To Jin’s relief no dark under-eye circles contrast Yoongi’s pale skin, a result of not venturing outside for five years. Yoongi only begins to answer when Jin is once again facing the stove.

“It’s going. I’m not sure that it’s where I want it to be though. It feels incomplete.” The maknaes fall silent listening to their hyung’s worry, not sure exactly how to help since they have no knowledge of music composition.

“Have you had Hobi listen to it yet?” Jin asks pouring salt into the pot of water and turning on the stove. The faster he can get the water boiling, the faster he can cook the noodles, which means the faster they can eat.

“Yeah, he’s not quite sure either though. We just spent two hours listening to the tracks on repeat to try and see what’s off.”

“Maybe you need another voice on your track, hyung? I would gladly volunteer.” Taehyung smiles. Ever since Hoseok and Yoongi created Cypher Records, Taehyung who’s their biggest fan, has been asking to be on a song every time it’s brought up. Secretly, the duo have planned a song out just for Taehyung to feature on, but it’s a gift for his birthday.

“Have you thought about asking Namjoon hyung?” Jungkook pipes up, munching on dry ramen. They all turn to face him, giving him questioning stares at his choice of a snack. He shrugs.

“I guess I could ask Namjoon. Maybe having someone not directly involved in composition would help.”

Jungkook smiles wide, bunny grin on display from the pride of helping a hyung. A few years ago, after Hoseok and Yoongi had begun creating their record label, Namjoon quit his janitorial job in favor of running the business side of the label. Since he’s the only member of the group who’s held a real job, Yoongi and Hoseok thought that he would be best. Namjoon ran everything from promotions to contracts and anything in between. He was the one running the hustle, meanwhile Yoongi and Hoseok were the face of the company. Although some may hate being only known in the background, Namjoon is happiest there.

Namjoon and Hoseok enter at last, the final two of the group of seven. The boys cheer when they enter and pull two chairs over. They all sit huddled together in silence, the sound of boiling water filling the room. It’s a comfortable silence. The type you get after being with someone for so long, and Jin feels himself relax after a long day of classes. That is until Jungkook starts munching on another dry ramen packet.

“Yah! Can you just wait?” Jin yells exasperatedly. Jungkook pouts in response before slowly putting it down on the counter.

“He eats all the time, hyung. I don’t know why you’re surprised.” Jimin says, ruffling Jungkook’s hair affectionately.

“Yeah, ever since he started playing intramural sports he’s always hungry.” Tae laughs before taking a bite of the dry ramen. “Yuck! How are you eating this?”

“I’m hungry,” Jungkook mumbles. “I gotta feed these muscles.” Flexing his bicep, he gives it a slap for extra measure causing the boys to fall in a fit of giggles.

“Jungkook-ah put your muscles away, you’re scaring me.” Tae says. While Jungkook focused on becoming a muscle man, Taehyung has been more focused on eating the delicacies of life. Because of his new affinity for food, Tae and Jin have developed a stronger bond through their love of trying new dishes. Although, Taehyung does make sure to eat a handful of strawberries a day; they remind him of his days with his aunt and sister on the strawberry farm after the trial.

“Alright, children, dinner is ready,”  Jin says pulling dishes down from the cabinet. One by one, the boys pile noodles into their bowls before settling around the living room. There’s only a small table in the kitchen that seats four, so they sit in a circle sprawled across the floor and couch. They’re all silent, focusing only on eating after a long day of classes and work, until Jungkook starts slurping the remnants in his bowl.

“Did we adopt a toddler?” Jin remarks.

“We adopted two.” Namjoon pinches Jimin’s cheek that’s stuffed with noodles. Jimin��s eyes go wide and a blush paints itself across his cheeks as he turns his gaze away.

“I think if we’re being honest, we’re all just overgrown toddlers,” Yoongi adds.

The boys all scoff and he rolls his eyes. Yoongi likes to think he’s an adult. That he’s finally outgrown his childish fears and that he’s become more mature. But when he sits among his group of friends he still feels like he’s a teen, mind filled with wonder and the feeling that nothing’s impossible. It feels like everyday is Beach Day with the boys by his side. Like he’ll never have to be alone like he was back in Seoul.

“That would explain why I saw Jin throw his psychology textbook across the room yesterday and throw a tantrum,” Hoseok says.

“You don’t understand! I have to memorize all the Psychosocial Stages. There’s too many to remember,” Jin whines, glaring at the textbook lying on the coffee table.

“Have you ever thought about going back to creative writing? I feel like you were happier then,” Hoseok responds.

“No, I like psychology. It’s just a much harder subject. I think with psych I’ll be able to actually help people. I can save them from what you all went through. I can almost make up for not being there.” The boys fall silent, each face more stoic than the next. Jin rubs his hands together nervously.

“We forgave you a long time ago. You don’t need to do this to pay us back.” Namjoon reaches over to give a comforting squeeze on Jin’s arm.

“I-I know. I want to do this, though. Besides, if you ever do need me again, I’ll be able to help.”

“Well we appreciate it, hyung.” Hoseok smiles. “On a less serious note, I’ve rented my mom’s old studio. I was thinking of holding dance lessons when I’m not helping Yoongi hyung in the studio.”

“I’ll take them!” Jimin yells. Ever since getting into college, Jimin has been trying to bulk himself up. He wants to be able to defend himself and not have to rely on Jungkook and Taehyung to save him. He doesn’t want to have guard dogs anymore; he just wants them to be his friends.

“I’ll take them too!” Taehyung yells from the kitchen, digging around the fridge for the carton of strawberries he keeps hidden.

“How about we all take them? Hobi can get some practice in teaching unskilled students and we can learn how to dance. I’d like to not look like the inflatable long-limbed man outside of car dealerships.” Namjoon chuckles.

“Bold of you to assume I don’t know how to dance,” Jin says.

“Do you?” Namjoon retorts.

“Not the point.”

“Well if we’re mentioning new stuff we’re doing, I’ve decided to get into photography,” Taehyung says. “I’d like to capture the good moments of my life so I can forget the bad.”

Jungkook looks at Taehyung before quietly saying, “still getting the nightmares?”

Taehyung nods. “They’re not as frequent but every now and then I get them. They just stay with me a while. I think surrounding myself with physical copies of happy memories would help in keeping them from plaguing my mind.”

“Why don’t you take one right now?” Jimin suggests and Tae nods enthusiastically before dashing towards his apartment.

When he returns, a large camera is in his hand and he sets it on top of Jin’s psychology textbook. It’s so thick that it puts the camera at least two inches above the coffee table.

After about two minutes of Taehyung yelling: “move left, no my left!”, “you’re too far, you’re only half a body now”, “Jimin you can’t sit in the back no one can see you”, everyone fits the frame. Setting on the self timer, Taehyung launches himself across the laps of Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi who’re all sitting in front since they’re the smallest. They let out small huffs but still hug Taehyung to their bodies. The flash goes off and they all clamber back towards the camera to see the photo.

Thankfully, each boy is in frame and no one was accidentally decapitated. Staring at the photo, with the boys wrapped together in a tight hug, Jin feels warm. This right here is his family. It doesn’t matter that it’s not by blood or that they split apart at one moment, because Jin knows they’ll always fall back together. They’re like magnets, no matter how far they pull away, they’ll always reconnect eventually.

#bts #bts fanfic #bangtan bookclub #bts fanfiction #bts series #bts au #bts hyyh #bts kim namjoon #bts kim seokjin #bts rm #bts namjoon #bts min yoongi #bts suga #bts jhope #bts jung hoseok #bts park jimin #bts kim taehyung #bts v #bts jeon jungkook #bts ot7 #ot7 #the most beautiful moment in life #hyyh #bts young forever #fanfic #fanfiction #kpop #kpop fanfiction #bangtan #bangtan fanfic

[jjongorable]

Love Untouched

pairing: OT6 rating: PG-13 word count: ~6.6k written for dyNamite fic fest

Hakyeon doesn’t want to let the years to go to waste. But if the other members decide they don’t want to be with him anymore, then who is he to hold on to something already gone?

ao3

The way Hakyeon kept his hands tightly clasped behind his back was unusual but not enough to make Sanghyuk think anything was wrong. Neither was the way he took three large, unnecessary steps to avoid bumping into Jaehwan who was entertaining Wonsik with a poor imitation of some actress or other.

It wasn't until a few days later, when Sanghyuk caught Hakyeon's hand hovering over a sleeping Hongbin’s head in his lap, that he had a passing thought that maybe something was a bit off. But it was gone as quick as it took for Taekwoon to come plop himself in Sanghyuk's lap and softly demand his full attention. Then, Sanghyuk's caught up in small lips and strong thighs, only thoughts of Taekwoon's tongue travelling places it probably shouldn't pushing out any worries he might have had before. Sanghyuk can only concentrate on so much at one time, and Taekwoon likes to give his all.

...

It's late when Sanghyuk comes home one day to Hakyeon alone in the kitchen. He's shirtless and glaring at a pot on the stove. Sanghyuk just came from exercising and he's hungry and worked up and Hakyeon’s back muscles are contracting in all the ways that Sanghyuk loves to run his hands over just to feel how Hakyeon moves. Sanghyuk makes his way towards him silently, coming right up behind him before speaking.

“Smells good.” Hakyeon's startled jump is almost satisfying enough to Sanghyuk, but he still expects more as Hakyeon turns around to glare at him.

“It's just boiled water.” Hakyeon responds, and Sanghyuk wants so bad to kiss the confused frown off his face but he takes a step away from Sanghyuk, turning away to open the spice cabinet.

“I didn't mean the food, hyung.” Sanghyuk lowers his voice to a level where Hakyeon would have to be incredibly dense not to know what he’s getting at. But Hakyeon is anything but stupid.

Sanghyuk comes up again, wraps an arm around Hakyeon’s waist and pulls him till there’s not even a centimeter of space between their two bodies. He relishes in the way Hakyeon melts into his chest, a small sigh escaping his lips. He’s cute like this, somehow tiny against Sanghyuk’s larger form.

“How was your day?” It's Sanghyuk's roundabout way of asking if there's anything wrong as he feathers light kisses up and down Hakyeon’s bare neck. He rests his lips just over Hakyeon’s pulse and feels it beating just a little too quick. It’s the reaction he wants.

There’s a strain in Hakyeon’s voice as he tries to answer. Perfect. “It was fine. I finished my schedule early.” Sanghyuk brings a hand up to brush through Hakyeon’s hair. It’s still wet from the shower he must’ve taken when he got home. “No one else is home yet so I thought I'd start dinner.”

“Or,” Sanghyuk stops messing with Hakyeon’s hair and trails his hand down his arm instead, lets Hakyeon’s disappointed whimper soak into every pore of his skin. “You can let everyone make their own meals when they get here.” Sanghyuk knows he’s got Hakyeon in the headspace he wants as he whispers in his ear, making sure his breath hits all the right places that will make Hakyeon turn around and finally kiss him breathless.

But Hakyeon coughs in an effort to clear his throat and steps out of Sanghyuk’s reach. “No, I don't mind.” He’s pointedly avoiding Sanghyuk’s eyes and focuses intently on the pot of water on the stove.

“Hyung – ”

“Jaehwan will be home soon.” Sanghyuk hears the intent in the hardness of Hakyeon’s voice, but he doesn’t want Jaehwan. He wants Hakyeon, and he can’t keep his lips from forming a pout that Hakyeon can’t even see.

“You should go shower.” It sounds less like a suggestion and more of an order to Sanghyuk and his pout deepens. He doesn’t keep the whine out of his voice either when he says ‘okay’ and saunters out of the kitchen.

Sanghyuk didn’t want to wait for Jaehwan to get home. Especially not when his body still wanted Hakyeon. The memory of his bare back flush against Sanghyuk's chest remained and the sound of his soft whines still echoed in Sanghyuk's ears as he lets the hot water help him relieve his tension.

Sanghyuk makes sure to make his moans extra loud for Hakyeon. And when he comes out to find Hakyeon sitting on their couch, a pillow pressed firmly in his lap and his face flushed, that’s when Sanghyuk really lets it settle that there might be a problem.

***

Taekwoon fold his arms and stares at Wonsik from across the room with a look he hopes shows that he saw what happened and that he is unimpressed.

Hongbin pokes at Taekwoon’s elbow, making him drop his gaze. Hongbin’s eyes are wide, but it’s not like this is anything new. Quite frankly, Wonsik’s antics at interviews have gotten old and he really should know better.

“Did you see that?” Hongbin whispers and he almost sounds like he’s in disbelief. Which is odd to Taekwoon, because if anyone would be understanding of Wonsik’s ways it’s Hongbin.

Taekwoon looks away and tries to catch Wonsik’s eyes again. More glaring is in order. “I did.”

“Why would he –”

“I don’t know.” Taekwoon run his hand through his hair and stand up a little straighter, full height to make himself more intimidating. “I’m gonna go check on Hakyeon. You go find out what turned that idiot stupid today.” Taekwoon jerks his head in Wonsik’s direction before heading to the restroom. It’s where Hakyeon choked out he was going when the director told them they’d be taking a five-minute break.

It’s been three minutes since and he still hasn’t returned which is not a good sign. Meanwhile, Wonsik is joking with Jaehwan and the MC as if he wasn’t just the biggest ass of the day.

“Fucking Wonsik.” Taekwoon mumbles, just as he reaches the door to the men’s restroom. He hesitates a bit, unsure in what state of despair he’s going to find Hakyeon. But after a second of reminding himself that he won’t know till he opens the door, he walks in.

Hakyeon is at the sink, washing his hands, seemingly fine. He jolts a little when he sees Taekwoon’s reflection in the mirror, but he smiles nonetheless. It’s his leader smile, the one he uses when he knows the members are worried about him. The one that makes them all worry more rather than less because they’ve been with Hakyeon long enough to know it’s bullshit.

“You know he didn’t mean it.” Taekwoon doesn’t want to beat around the bush and he knows Hakyeon understands what he’s talking about anyway with the way his smile falters and he ducks his head. “Wonsik just doesn’t think sometimes. Most times.”

That pulls a small laugh out of Hakyeon as he dries his hands and it makes Taekwoon’s heart a little lighter. When Hakyeon is close enough, Taekwoon reaches to stop him from walking out, pretends that he didn’t notice how Hakyeon made the tiniest movement to get away before allowing Taekwoon to kiss his forehead.

“I’m sorry he was an ass.” Taekwoon waits for Hakyeon to grab onto his elbow like he always does when they’re like this, but he doesn’t. He just steps back out of Taekwoon’s reach and tucks his hands behind his back.

“It’s fine, Taek. I get it.” Hakyeon doesn’t look him in the eyes as he rushes out the restroom door, Taekwoon at his heels.

“Get what?” Hakyeon walks back to his place on set, ignoring Taekwoon and plastering that beautiful fake smile back on his face. Taekwoon wants to hurl a bottle at his head.

“We’ll start again.” The director calls and Taekwoon is forced back to his place beside Hongbin who seems to have had much better progress with Wonsik by the look on his face. When the interviewer is focused on another member, Taekwoon turns to Hongbin.

“What did Wonsik say?”

“About what?” Taekwoon fixes him with a hard look and Hongbin starts, remembering at the moment what Taekwoon asked him to do. He looks at Taekwoon with pouty lips and wide eyes, already trying to weaken him to his apology. “I’m sorry, hyung. I forgot to ask.”

Taekwoon sighs. “Useless. All of you.” Useless Wonsik and his useless mouth saying useless things. And useless Hakyeon saying more useless things and then running away when Taekwoon asks him to explain himself. Useless Hongbin forgetting to do what Taekwoon asked him to do. Useless Jaehwan and Sanghyuk for not even being around. Useless. All of them.

“You don’t mean that.” As he speaks, Hongbin rests his hand on Taekwoon’s thigh just a little too high to be deemed as friendly if picked up by the cameras. Meanwhile, Taekwoon tries not to run his hands over his face, because he knows that would only upset the makeup artists. But he’s so frustrated he’s definitely going to have to find a way to release the stress. And he decides that Hongbin is going to help him.

“Yes, I do.” Taekwoon chides before placing a hand on Hongbin’s neck, squeezing just hard enough to make him squirm in his seat.

***

Jaehwan wakes the members up with a kiss every morning. And every morning he looks forward to hovering over Wonsik’s lips until the feeling of being watched wakes up his target, and arms are pulling Jaehwan down, and their lips meet in tiny chaste pecks. Jaehwan keeps them shallow and clean because he knows how much Wonsik likes to cuddle and go too far in the mornings. Even so, Jaehwan still loves waking him up first.

After Wonsik, it’s Sanghyuk, of course, same room privileges and all. But if it was up to Jaehwan, he would leave him for last. Because Sanghyuk is all heavy limbs and harsh teeth and tight grips in the morning, so by the time Jaehwan gets to move on he’s always sore in one place or another.

Then there’s Hongbin who, ninety percent of the time, is always up before Jaehwan, always in some state of half-readiness. Hongbin prefaces his kisses with a hug, makes sure Jaehwan is all warm and cozy and massages anywhere Sanghyuk might’ve gotten to. Jaehwan likes coming to Hongbin just after he’s showered, when his skin is still sticky with heat and the smell of his body wash is the strongest. He’ll kiss up Hongbin’s neck, breathing in his scent, before tracing his jawline up to his cheek and finally his lips. While Hongbin stays, hands kneading wherever he’s decided they’re needed and making sure Jaehwan feels taken care of.

When Jaehwan leaves Hongbin, muscles relaxed and mind more awake, he makes his way to Taekwoon’s room, almost always certain that he will have to prepare to use excessive measures. There’s nothing more Taekwoon hates than having his sleep disturbed, but Jaehwan believes he’s mastered the perfect way to alleviate Taekwoon’s displeasure upon awakening. It comes in the form of deft hands teasing at exposed skin and strategically placed limbs that prevent any moving that Jaehwan won’t allow. So that when Taekwoon finally peeks his eyes open and becomes aware, the first thing he registers is how he’s caught, and his only escape will be to promise, with slow, lingering, sleepy kisses, that he’ll get out of bed as soon as Jaehwan lets him free. Which he does, for the most part, because if he doesn’t then Jaehwan won’t ever get to Hakyeon.

Hakyeon, like Hongbin, is always bright and bushy eyed by the time Jaehwan comes in to finish his rounds. Jaehwan himself too, is as awake as he’ll ever get before noon. So, usually he greets Hakyeon with words instead of physical touch. It’s nothing more than a simple greeting and a report on how everyone else is. Hakyeon is most often at his desk flipping through his planner and paperwork only a leader would have to deal with. And Jaehwan likes to fit himself onto Hakyeon’s thighs and nuzzle into his warmth before Hakyeon draws him in to his favorite kiss of the morning. Hakyeon’s kisses are the validation and intense affection that Jaehwan only needs, only desires from Hakyeon. And Hakyeon’s hands are the most secure in the way they hold Jaehwan against his body and eases out the tension in the way Hongbin can’t.

Except today, Hakyeon isn’t even in his room when Jaehwan peeks his head through the door. A lazy search finds him sprawled across the common room floor, hands working to highlight something in his planner. This is a first.

“Hakyeon?” Jaehwan only gets a hum in response.

“What are you doing here?” Jaehwan tries to rub the last bit of sleep out of his eyes because Wonsik wasn’t particularly cuddly today, and Sanghyuk didn’t roughhouse him. Hongbin was rushing into the shower when Jaehwan came, and Taekwoon was extra compliant. So, in other words, Jaehwan didn’t get the morning awakening he was so used to, and this is only going to add to his strange reality warp. He’s accustomed to one person being out of character, but not all of them. And especially not Hakyeon.

“I just felt like it this morning.” Hakyeon answers, still not looking up from his planner, and Jaehwan starts to feel a craving for attention nagging at the back of his mind. He goes to sit next to Hakyeon’s feet on the floor, wiggles his heels a little. But Hakyeon continues studying his calendar and Jaehwan isn’t used to vying for Hakyeon’s attention and affection. “Is everyone else awake?”

“Yes.” Jaehwan watches Hakyeon for a bit before stretching out beside him, stomach up so that he can see Hakyeon’s face. “Hakyeon.” The whining slips into his voice partly because of his need and partly because he knows Hakyeon can’t refuse him then. But Hakyeon simply shifts to the left, putting more space between them before he looks at Jaehwan and raises a questioning eyebrow.

Jaehwan believes he’s an excellent reader of body language, but he doesn’t know what to do with the information his brain is trying to process as he leaves Hakyeon alone, without his good morning kiss.

All he can think is that there’s something wrong.

***

“Back already?” Bewildered, Hongbin pauses fixing the collar on his shirt and gives his full attention to Jaehwan, who’s standing in front of him again for some reason.  “You usually take longer with Hakyeon.”

“I think something’s wrong.” Jaehwan mumbles and Hongbin immediately knows this is serious because Jaehwan’s voice is normal, not at all played up. Hongbin also notices that he’s shaking slightly, so he moves to take hold of Jaehwan’s shoulders, anchor him in some way.

“Wrong?”

“With Hakyeon.” Jaehwan starts wringing his hands together in the way he does whenever he’s thinking too hard about something. “He didn’t kiss me this morning. He moved away.”

“Maybe it’s just a bad morning.” Hongbin runs his hands down Jaehwan’s arms to grab hold of his hands, bends a little so that he can catch Jaehwan’s eyes. He can see that Jaehwan’s already far into his own mind.

“He wasn’t in his room where he knows I normally go to find him. And he was on the floor in the common room like he was hiding.” Hongbin nods when Jaehwan takes a breath during his rambling, even though he isn’t sure Jaehwan is even looking at him. His eyes are unfocused and staring beyond Hongbin’s shoulders. It’s concerning. “And when I found him he moved away.”

Hongbin nods again, keeps nodding because he doesn’t know what’s the right thing to say in the moment. “He’s allowed to want some space, Jae.” He throws out, unsure. The others don’t usually come to him with things like this. And what if there really is something going on with Hakyeon? How is Hongbin supposed to fix it? He feels like that’s territory for Taekwoon and, well, Jaehwan.

“But he would just say so. He normally just says so.” Jaehwan’s shoulders tense and he nods once, as if he’s made up his mind. “No. There’s something wrong.”

Hongbin sighs, soundlessly so that Jaehwan won’t hear. “I’ll ask Taekwoon about it later. Okay?” Hongbin catches Jaehwan’s eyes again, squeezes his hands. Jaehwan makes a noise of agreement, low and not at all convincing. So, Hongbin does all he thinks he can at the moment and pulls Jaehwan fully into his arms. Only once Jaehwan has stopped shaking does Hongbin speak again.

“We have a schedule.” He kisses the top of Jaehwan’s head as he steps back. “You need to go get ready.”

Jaehwan nods and turns to leave, but Hongbin moves faster to catch him at the door. Hongbin kisses Jaehwan deeply, more urgent than their regular morning one. When they pull apart, Jaehwan blinks up at Hongbin.

With a slight pat on the butt, Hongbin pushes Jaehwan out the door.

“To make up for Hakyeon,” He says and Hongbin considers it a win that Jaehwan leaves smiling.

…

Hongbin doesn’t talk to Taekwoon about it. But in his defense, he really had set out to clear up the situation, but Wonsik is a terrible distraction. Yes, it’s all Wonsik’s fault and his shiny new toys he’s always parading around the dorm. How was Hongbin going to stand even a small chance against the new desktop gaming system Wonsik shuffled in with later that day. It had Hongbin’s name written all over it, and when Wonsik had presented it to him, well, Hongbin is weak-minded it seems.

But really, he did try, and you can’t blame him that it ended up slipping his mind completely.

It’s not until he’s resting in his heat box of a room about four days later that Hongbin remembers, sort of.

Hongbin’s state of semi-consciousness is disturbed to full awareness when he hears heavy footsteps entering his room and feels a weight settle on his bed. Hongbin takes stock of how much the bed has dipped and guesses who his visitor is before they actually speak.

“Has Hakyeon been acting weird to you lately?”

Hongbin opens his eyes when Sanghyuk starts to knead the muscles in his legs. He almost doesn’t want to speak, just lie here and let Sanghyuk massage all his pain away. “Lately?”

“Like the past month or so?”

“I don’t know.” Sanghyuk makes his way up to Hongbin’s thighs and Hongbin’s sure that he’s one press away from moaning aloud. “I haven’t really seen him around too much.”

“Well, I think there might be something wrong,” Sanghyuk has stopped his ministrations, his hand stilled atop Hongbin’s knee. His voice has acquired a seriousness that has Hongbin’s whine of protest dying in his throat.

Something wrong? Hongbin racks his brain for where he has heard that exact phrasing regarding Hakyeon recently and he curses softly, sitting up fully to face Sanghyuk.

“Actually, Jaehwan came to me a few days ago talking about something being wrong with Hakyeon.”

“What did you think?”

“I just told him I’d talk to Taekwoon about it.”

“Did you?”

Hongbin runs a hand through his hair, frustrated at himself for letting this get away from him. “No. I forgot.”

Sanghyuk squeezes Hongbin’s knee, causing him to wince. “Dammit.”

Hongbin takes Sanghyuk’s hand in his, if only to get him to stop attacking his kneecap. “You said a month? This has been going on for a month?”

Sanghyuk nods, dropping his head to his chest. “At least.”

“Fuck.”

***

The first day Wonsik goes 24 hours without being the recipient of Hakyeon’s overly-affectionate touches, he’s apprehensive. He thinks there must be some grand scheme in the works. The last time this happened, it was around his birthday and everyone had started to ignore him so that he would think they had forgotten. Of course, he’d found them out soon enough and everything went back to normal. Which meant at least one member always had their hands on him at one moment or other. And by “at least one member,” Wonsik really just means one member. And by “one member,” Wonsik really just means Hakyeon.

When weeks have passed, his apprehension morphs into elation. Something somewhere has finally gotten through to Hakyeon and Wonsik doesn’t have to keep bringing it up at inappropriate times and making a big spectacle of it. Even though he knows it upsets Hakyeon, even though he knows that it’s how Hakyeon shows how much he cares. Even though Wonsik gets stink eyes from the members when he pushes Hakyeon away for the nth time only to go cling to someone else instead.

Wonsik knows this isn’t how their relationship works, that this isn’t how he should go about dealing with things. Taekwoon tells him that if he just talked to Hakyeon about it then they could work things out. Together. Like they’re supposed to. It’s the importance of communication and all that.

Except Wonsik doesn’t know what he should even say. It doesn’t make sense why he cringes away from Hakyeon’s touch on some occasions and not others. It doesn’t make sense to him why, as Sanghyuk says, Wonsik gets to touch whomever whenever he wants but doesn’t extend that courtesy to Hakyeon. He also doesn’t get why it’s only with Hakyeon that he does this.

So, he just chooses not to confront Hakyeon about it because Wonsik wouldn’t even know what to say and how would he even start. If he can’t understand it, how can he expect Hakyeon to?

“You sound stupid.” Wonsik whines when Taekwoon flicks his forehead and buries his face deeper into Taekwoon’s neck to avoid any more assaults. But also, because Taekwoon is warm and it’s easier for Wonsik to talk about his mistakes when he doesn’t have to look someone in the face. “And I bet you’re the reason that this is even happening.” Taekwoon continues, shifting on the bed so that Wonsik can fit better against his side.

“That what’s happening?” Wonsik fusses with his bottom lip, tightens his arms that are wrapped around Taekwoon. He doesn’t want to hear it’s all his fault.

“Do you even remember the last time Hakyeon has willingly touched you?”

“Uhm.” Wonsik knows that the fact he can’t think of anything off the top of his head means it’s been a long time. Too long.

“Exactly.” Wonsik feels a weight at the top of his head and shakes his head to get Taekwoon to massage his scalp. His long fingers working through the strands in exactly the way that Wonsik loves. “Neither do I.”

Wonsik feels a heat behind his eyes that means he’s about to cry and his voice wavers when he asks, “What do we do?”

“He’s obviously not going to say anything. Which means we will have to confront him about it.”

“Do you think he doesn’t want to be with –” me, Wonsik wants to end with, but that’s too hard to say. “us anymore?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“But you said –” Taekwoon scoffs as if Wonsik’s worries are foolish. It doesn’t make him feel better, though.

“There’s a reason he’s separating himself, but I can assure you that’s not it.” Taekwoon gently pulls Wonsik’s face from its hiding place in his neck, so he can look him in the eyes. “Hakyeon loves us. All of us.”

Wonsik nods because if there’s anyone he trusts most to tell him the ins and outs of Hakyeon, it’s Taekwoon.

“I love him, too.” And Wonsik means it. Has meant it for a long time.

Wonsik lets Taekwoon wipe at the tears that finally start to fall. “I know,” he says.

“I’ll fix it, Taek. I promise.”

Taekwoon shakes his head. “We’ll fix it.”

Wonsik curls back into Taekwoon’s side and decides he’s not going to dwell too much on the how at the moment. They’ll figure something out, the five of them.

***

By day five, Hakyeon is ready to just give in, to tell the others what’s been bothering him. He’s such an advocate for communication, but it’s much harder when the topic is something he’s had nightmares of for as long as they’ve been doing this. Hakyeon doesn’t want to let the years to go to waste. But if the other members decide they don’t want to be with him anymore, then who is he to hold on to something already gone?

By day 12 of Hakyeon’s “make the members finally confess they don’t love me anymore” plan, he’s frustrated because none of them is acting like anything at all is different. Even when he hasn’t touched any of them in almost two weeks, save for Jaehwan’s morning kisses. But that’s more for Jaehwan than himself because Hakyeon knows how Jaehwan relies heavily on his routine. They all talk to him still, reach for him, it’s not like they’re avoiding him. But something just feels different. Hakyeon feels them pulling away and he wonders if it’s best that he gets away first.

They’re just dense, Hakyeon thinks. Except he knows this already. It’s why he stresses just talking things out with each other in the first place. But if he can be a hypocrite about anything, this would be a good choice.

Day 18 comes and goes and Hakyeon is about ready to rip his hair out. He misses how Taekwoon’s long legs feel straddling his hips, how his nimble fingers caress his face before he leans in and whispers how much he loves Hakyeon against his lips. Hakyeon misses Jaehwan’s expertly timed distractions whenever Hakyeon has been drowning himself in script reading and coordinating with their managers, submitting plans to the CEO, just trying not to fall behind. Jaehwan always comes at the perfect time to help Hakyeon unwind, usually in the form of amateur massages and fruity drinks. It’s Hakyeon favorite way to relax now. His second favorite is probably with Wonsik, in his studio, listening to him curse at the screen for hours until Hakyeon decides enough is enough and takes his mind off melodies and mixing. But now he can’t have any of that because, well, he’s not sure if he’s allowed to anymore.

Day 24 finds Hakyeon crying in the shower, though not for the first time in the past three weeks. It’s hurts when he has to wake up at the break of dawn so he can leave before Jaehwan rises. It’s like a punch in the gut when he feels the need to leave the room because Hongbin and Sanghyuk are getting too comfy on the couch and Hakyeon is afraid for them to see how much he wants to join them, right in the middle like how it always was. But Hakyeon thinks everything has changed.

So, when on Day 31 Hakyeon loses it for the first time in front of one of them, it’s hardly a surprise to himself. He’s more impressed with the fact that he’s managed to keep it together for this long.

…

Hakyeon is on the couch watching a drama, a throw pillow clutched to his chest. It smells mostly like Wonsik with a tiny sprinkle of the cologne he brought Taekwoon a couple months back. It’s a testament to who sleeps in here the most. Wonsik because he’s always home late, Taekwoon because he’s too lazy to move to his own bed. Hakyeon brings the pillow to his face and takes a big whiff. Despite living under the same roof, he thinks it’s about as close to the two he’s been in a long time.

“What are you doing?” Hakyeon starts when he hears Hongbin’s voice, throws the pillow to the side and stares.

“Smelling the pillow.”

“Oh.” Hongbin shrugs and sits on the other end of the couch. Not close, Hakyeon thinks, of course. “I thought maybe you were trying to suffocate yourself.” He says with a smile thrown in Hakyeon’s direction, but Hakyeon turns away, upset that it still pulls a reaction from him.

“Sitting up?”

“Not every method is the same. What are you watching?”

Hakyeon looks back at the tv, having forgotten it was even on. “I –” He thinks back to just a few moments ago when Hongbin wasn’t being a distraction to his lonely thoughts, and realizes he wasn’t paying attention even then. He was just moping over a pillow. “– don’t know.”

“Typical.” Hongbin stretches the word out for as long as it takes him to maneuver so that he’s now laying horizontal across the sofa, head placed unceremoniously in Hakyeon’s lap and eyes trained on the television.

It would be easy, so easy, for Hakyeon to just give in, to take his hand and brush Hongbin’s fringe just a little to the left so it’s out of his eyes. But the fear that it will make Hongbin uncomfortable is much bigger than Hakyeon’s want to feel Hongbin’s skin beneath his fingertips. So, as gracefully as he can, Hakyeon shifts so that Hongbin’s head falls off his lap and he stands, breath quickening when Hongbin glances up at him concerned, if also a little confused.

“Are you okay?” Hongbin starts to sit up slowly, hands reaching out for Hakyeon who jerks away. But that only makes Hongbin frown even more.

“I’m fine.”

“Hakyeon –”

“I’m fine.” It’s all Hakyeon can manage not to just talk to Hongbin. To tell him that no, everything isn’t fine and he’s losing his mind because he thinks he’s losing the five people he loves the most in the world. And no, it isn’t fine that he wants nothing more than to walk straight into Hongbin’s arms, let him take away all the doubt and sadness and pain. But Hakyeon’s room is just down the hall, and he thinks it’s better than the alternative of being pushed away. And his body is already halfway there, even if he’s leaving his heart just some little ways behind.

“Stop walking away!” Hongbin screams behind him and Hakyeon pauses. Hongbin rarely raises his voice in the dorms, and never at Hakyeon. But no, Hakyeon can’t stop because he feels himself falling apart and he’s not ready to talk about it. Not now. He hasn’t figured out his whole speech yet. But when he goes to take another step he feels a hand on his shoulder and Hongbin’s soft voice begging him. “Please.”

“I – I –” Can’t. I can’t.

“Please tell me what’s wrong. What’s been wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“Okay. But Hakyeon, you know you can talk to me, right? I mean, any of us. We love you.”

“No, you –”

“What’s going on?” Hakyeon spins around to see that not only Taekwoon has joined them in the hallway, but Wonsik as well. And it’s just perfect. Hakyeon already stood little chance against one, and now there’s three. But he’s already held out for so long, and his bedroom door is right in front of him. He just has to reach out and turn the knob, enter, and shut everything else out behind him.

“Nothing.” He says, for what feels like the millionth time today, except that’s not right. This conversation couldn’t have been going on for even two minutes yet.

“Hakyeon –” He watches Taekwoon wrap an arm protectively around Hongbin, wonders when Hongbin had even moved that far away from him. And for some reason it feels like a slap in the face.

“There’s nothing wrong! Okay? Nothing.” Hakyeon’s resolved himself, a hand already opening his bedroom door. All he has to do is step in, push this conversation off to another day. “Can you guys please just –”

“Is it because of me?”

Hakyeon stills. “What?”

“The reason you keep avoiding everyone. It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

“Wonsik –”

“Please tell me what I did so that I can apologize.” Hakyeon glances between the three of them, lets his eyes rest longest on Taekwoon before looking down at his hand, the one resting on his doorknob. Wonsik sounds so small, not anything like the strong, caring, resilient man Hakyeon’s watched him grow to become. Hakyeon hates he’s let it get this far.

“Shikkie, no. It wasn’t anything you did. I just – I just feel like you don’t want to be with me anymore. Any of you.” Hakyeon feels himself shaking at the confessions, at finally having said it out loud. With a stronger voice he continues, “Like, you don’t want me to touch you or kiss you or love you anymore. So, I thought –”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous” Taekwoon says at the same time Hongbin shakes his head profusely and repeats “No” like a mantra. Wonsik just stares back at Hakyeon, eyes wet but hard, like he’s trying hard not to cry. And, also like maybe he wants to punch Hakyeon.

Taekwoon’s fast to break the spell, moving to take Hakyeon by the shoulders and look him straight in the eyes. “Where did you even get that idea?” He whispers to Hakyeon, still loud enough for the others to hear, but low enough that Hakyeon knows Taekwoon isn’t upset with him, that this won’t be a screaming fight.

“Well. You all go around saying how much you hate when I touch you all the time.”

“Touch us too much, Yeonnie.”

“Well, I didn’t think –”

“There’s always a line, hyung, but Christ.” Hongbin saunters forward, grabs one of Hakyeon’s hands and kisses his knuckles. “How could you possibly believe we wouldn’t want to be with you anymore?”

“I don’t know. I just had his feeling. It just seemed right,” Hakyeon catches Wonsik’s eyes further down the walkway. It looks like he’s been slowly backtracking. “that you all were starting to hate me.”

“Hate you?” Hongbin is nearly unhinged, Wonsik is still silent.

“Can we maybe move this conversation to the couch?” Taekwoon’s tone and the way he ushers both Hakyeon and Hongbin down the walkway makes Hakyeon think there wasn’t any room for argument. When Taekwoon grabs Wonsik’s hand on the way and pulls him along, Hakyeon realizes it was Taekwoon’s way of stopping his escape.

All of it makes Hakyeon feel slightly out of place and off-kilter. It’s usually his role to gather all the members together for a meeting, his role to think rationally and get everyone on the same page. It feels wrong, somehow, pushing it all off on Taekwoon just because Hakyeon couldn’t work up the courage to be the one to end it all.

Back in the common area, Hakyeon finds himself once again on the couch, clutching a pillow to his chest. He takes stock of everyone in the room and dread rises in his stomach when he thinks about having to do this all over again.

"Where's Jaeh and Hyuk?"

"They had some bet and Jaeh lost so he’s taking Sanghyuk out somewhere." Hongbin answers.

Taekwoon looks around the room as if it’s his first time really noticing that two of them weren’t here. "We can wait for them to get back?" He throws out expectantly. Except what good would that do, Hakyeon ponders, to just sit in silence when he can already tell at least Wonsik is near exploding at him.

"I mean, the cat's already out the bag. But I think, moving forward, it will be best with everyone here."

“Okay so we’ll just –” Whatever Taekwoon is about to suggest is interrupted by a single sob from Wonsik, where he’s sitting on the floor by Hongbin’s feet, head in his knees. And when he speaks, they all have to lean a little closer to hear what he’s saying.

"Please. Please, you can't leave us. I love you. We love you so much. I don't know what we would do -"

"Whoa, whoa. Shikkie wait.” Hakyeon lowers himself in front of Wonsik, rests his hands atop Wonsik’s arms wrapped around his legs. He’s shaking. Hakyeon feels like his palms are all that’s responsible for keeping Wonsik from breaking apart. “Calm down."

"He's not leaving. It was just a misunderstanding.” For the first time of the night, Taekwoon sounds unsure as he looks over Wonsik’s bowed head to Hakyeon. “You're not leaving us, right?"

"I guess, I'm not?” Hakyeon can’t keep the uncertainty out of his own voice as he flits his eyes around the room, not looking at anything or anyone in particular. “If you guys want me to stay? To keep being with you?"

"We never said otherwise." Hongbin’s smile looks like he left off the idiot for Hakyeon’s benefit.

"Hakyeon, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I just say shit and I don't think how it affects you. Fuck, I'm sorry.” Wonsik finally looks up and his red eyes and earnest expression are just enough to convince Hakyeon. At least for now. “I love you so much"

"I know. I know, Wonsik. Thank you.” Hakyeon kisses his forehead and really smiles for the first time in what seems like forever. “Please stop crying, you know how I get when you cry." And it’s almost funny how, at the beginning of all this, Hakyeon was sure he’d be the one in need of intense comforting.

"Cha Hakyeon,” Taekwoon says, taking his hand and standing them both up. His free hand comes up to trace Hakyeon’s jawline, then holds it in place so that Hakyeon can’t look anywhere but in Taekwoon’s eyes. “You are the most beautiful, understanding, caring person I know. You're always there for us. I love you and I want to keep loving you. All of you. And I’m sorry for making you feel like that might not have been true." Hakyeon lets himself melt into the kiss that follows, soak in as much of it as he can because it’s been so long, too long. He almost thinks he’s dreaming.

Hongbin clears his throat. "Me too. What he said."

Hakyeon laughs behind his hand and damn near jumps on Hongbin on the couch, straddling him. “What he said?” He mocks, and before Hongbin can answer, Hakyeon wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him nearer till their lips are close but not touching. “Kiss me.”

Hongbin complies before the words have even fully left Hakyeon’s mouth and it’s, gods it’s everything he wouldn’t let himself have for a whole month, and for what? He starved himself of affection only to find out he was wrong in his assumptions and that, yes, he should’ve just said something sooner. Much sooner, it seems, by the way Hongbin whines into his mouth, his fingers tight around Hakyeon’s waist. And somehow there’s also hands on his back and in his hair and it’s a bit overwhelming after going so long without.

Hakyeon pulls away and takes a breath. “Can we just –” He licks his lips, already wet and swollen, and climbs off Hongbin’s lap to sit beside him. He looks between all of them, Hongbin on his right and Wonsik and Taekwoon standing in front of them. He grabs them each by a hand and drags them to the couch, motions so that they know to sit. “I want to cuddle,” he says, getting a smile even out of Wonsik. That feels nice, being the one to make them all happy.

There’s barely enough room for the four of them, but Hakyeon is determined to make it work. He and Hongbin never turned off the tv from earlier, so they settle in to watch whatever drama rerun is playing.

Hakyeon doesn’t know how long it’s been since they’ve tangled themselves on the couch, but his legs are near asleep by the time the front door opens and Jaehwan and Sanghyuk walk in.

It takes a couple seconds for Hakyeon to make his way out of the web of limbs, but he’s made a beeline for the entrance before either Jaehwan or Sanghyuk have their shoes all the way off.

Jaehwan doesn’t have time for a greeting before he has an armful of Hakyeon, but his reaction is immediate, tightening his arms around him. Jaehwan looks up to the mass on the sofa and raises an eyebrow.

“Uhm? What did we miss?”

#vixx ot6 #vixx fanfiction #vixx fanfic #wontaek #chasang #leobin #kenbin #leohyuk #hyuken #neo #my fic #my writing

[shirtlesssammy]

4x20: The Rapture

Then:

This happened. And Sam’s sucking demon blood.

Now:

I always say that the fireworks scene in Dark Side of the Moon is my favorite moment in the series, but man, I really love this scene as well. I love this shot of Dean and Cas especially. Dean’s enjoying a moment of peace in his dreams. Cas visits him and hands him a piece of paper with a location of where he wants Dean to meet him.

Dean awakens, and the brothers head out in the dead of night to find Castiel. They explore a warehouse on the unlucky end of some kind of cosmic fight. They find an angel banishing sigil on the wall, and an unconscious Cas on the floor. Only, it’s not Cas, it’s Jimmy. “Where the hell is Castiel?” Dean asking the important questions. Cas is gone.

Sam and Dean take Jimmy to a motel and buy him some food. He ravenously tears into the food while Dean watches in disgusted awe.

Jimmy doesn’t really remember anything from being possessed or what happened in that warehouse. He does remember his life before his time as an angel vessel. He recounts his story to the brothers: He’s Jimmy Novak. He’s from Pontiac, IL. And he’s a devout man with a wife and young daughter. 

About a year ago, Cas first made contact with Jimmy through his television. (Of course he did.)

The brothers confer outside. Dean wants to send the man home to his family. Sam wonders if there’s a possibility he knows more, and just needs a little prompting to remember. Sam ultimately wins with the realistic conclusion. “If we want to question the guy, you can damn well bet the demons do too.”

Jimmy is less than amenable to the idea of not going home. He’s done. He gave his time and now he wants out. Listen, when a bright, shining, charismatic angel of a man is cast to play you, you just have to face the reality that you’re going to be sticking around. No measly 3 episode guest-arc for you.

Later that night, for science:

Sam heads out in secret to get a hit of demon blood. Jimmy, pretending to sleep, also heads out when he thinks the coast is clear. Meanwhile, Dean sleeps like a baby.

Jimmy escapes on the bus, and we get more of his backstory with Castiel. It seems that Cas continued to connect with Jimmy via media wavelengths. This time, Jimmy listens to him by putting his arm in a boiling pot of water, and much to his wife’s surprise, no harm comes to him.

While driving, the brothers get a surprise visit from Anna. 

Anna calls Dean out for his awkward flirting and Sam out on his drinking problem. She tells them that Cas got sent back home and “that’s a very bad thing. Painfully, awfully bad.” Cas bby.

Jimmy arrives home, and sees Claire inside. He remembers the time before, when he was completely convinced his devotion to the angels was what God wanted. Amelia just wanted him to take his meds. I had a hard time concentrating during this scene. Damn Jimmy and your stupid gray t-shirt and weird spiky hair and not-Cas voice. Amelia tells him that if he won’t get help, she’s taking Claire to her mother’s in the morning. So Jimmy dons the, now iconic, trench coat, and prays to Castiel for guidance.

He then allows Castiel to possess him with the understanding that his family will be ok (sure, Jan). Claire finds the newly possessed Jimmy and implores, “Daddy?” Cas turns to her, confused, and as he walks away says, “I am not your father.” This transformation always slays me. How he can look like Jimmy one second and Cas the next with one messy tie change is amazing. (This also sets up a lifetime of anger issues for Claire.)

Present day, JImmy rings the doorbell, and Amelia answers. She’s shocked. He’s dead. They thought he was dead. He apologizes, and later they sit in the living room and talk. Jimmy regrets his actions. He was wrong. “Heaven, hell, none of that matters. The only thing that's important to me is you and Claire.” He just wants to come home. Amelia isn’t sure she can do that, but dinner would be a small start.

On their way to find Jimmy the Winchesters stop at a truck stop for fuel. Sam leaves hissed voicemails on Ruby’s phone telling her that he needs MOAR BLOOD.

Back with Jimmy he finally gets to hug Claire. Amelia puts together a quick meal of sandwiches and they all sit to eat. Jimmy grabs the food right away and when Claire asks him if he’s going to say grace he says, “No honey, I don’t think I am.” He cries into his sandwich. And...my heart just BREAKS thinking about his crisis of faith, all he’s lost, all he’s regained...and all he’s about to lose again.

Dinner is quickly interrupted by the next door neighbor, Roger. He saw Jimmy get back and wants to get in some bro catch-up time. Jimmy’s relieved that his long ordeal is over when Roger’s eyes flick black and he says, “I’m gonna gut your daughter while you watch.” Jimmy snatches up an impromptu weapon and bashes Roger over the head with it while yelling at Amelia about demons. Amelia is super assured of his sanity now.

Jimmy herds his family into the pantry to try and protect them with salt but they break out of there. Roger captures Claire and holds her at knife point while another demon captures Jimmy. They’re all rescued just in time by the Winchesters and their handy dandy demon blade. Sam tries to use his demon mojo to exorcise one of the demons but his power sputters out. They all flee in the Impala.

Cut to the Impala parked in some remote parking lot while the Winchesters convince Jimmy that he has to leave his family behind. (They dangle the spectre of vivisection over him if he gets caught. Really? That seems like some major conjecture. It’s not like vessels are NEW or anything.) Also… Man, you can really hear the ridiculously low voice of Dean and Sam when Misha’s all up in the show talking in his normal voice.

Jimmy decides that he’s going to send Amelia and Claire away while he goes into hiding. Sam hotwires Amelia a car and Jimmy says his goodbyes. Well, at least Amelia and Claire are safe, right? After the Impala drives away Amelia slaps Claire and her eyes turn black. ARGH

Later, Jimmy’s sleeping off his super stressful day in the back seat of the Impala while Dean asks Sam what the deal is with his mojo. He wasn’t strong enough to pick off a low level demon… Why’s he so low power?

Jimmy gets a call from Amelia. It’s...not good news. Later, they pull up outside of an abandoned warehouse where the demon possessing Amelia is holding Jimmy’s family hostage. Jimmy stalks off and starts shout-praying to Cas. “I gave you everything you asked me to give. I gave you more.” Castiel promised to take care of his family...and Jimmy begs him for help.

When he gets no answer he storms inside to find Amelia standing guard over Claire. He begs her to let his wife and child go.

Dean and Sam get nabbed by more demons and brought into the room. Amelia pulls out a gun, trains it briefly on the Winchesters, and then shoots Jimmy right in the gut. One of the other demons heads for Claire with a knife and Jimmy watches in despair as he bleeds on the floor. Claire rises up at the last minute and stops the demon with preternatural strength. It’s Castiel! Yay?

The Winchesters fight with the other demons and Sam nicks one of the demons with his blade. He gets a whiff of blood. Mmmm blood. Sam leans right down and drinks it while Castiel!Claire wanders calmly around the room and burns demons from their vessels.

Dean is 100% okay with Sam drinking demon blood.

Sam, now juiced up, exorcises the demon from Amelia. Castiel!Claire kneels by Jimmy who’s painfully dying on the floor. He tells Jimmy that it’s time for him to die. He’s earned his rest, his reward. Jimmy looks at his possessed daughter and begs Castiel to take him instead.

“As you wish,” Castiel replies (fucking me right up since I’ve only recently been on a Princess Bride bender). Cas jumps from Claire to Jimmy.

Cas then coldly stands up, leaving Claire and Amelia weeping on the floor. He starts to wander off.

Dean stops him. “What were you going to tell me?”

Cas looks at him with a cold ass stare and tells Dean that he learned his lesson while he was away. He serves Heaven, not humanity - and not Dean.

Later in the car Sam tries to get a rise out of Dean on the blood drinking thing. Dean tells Sam that he doesn’t care. He’s tired. He’s done with it all. Bobby calls. He needs some help so the Winchesters head for Bobby’s house.

Bobby and Dean trick Sam into getting into the safe room and lock him in there tight. Let the detoxing party begin!

Natasha: Full disclosure I forgot to do any note-taking the first time I watched this for this very recap. And then, watching it again, I almost did the same thing. I just...love this episode so much. Jimmy’s journey is intensely riveting to me. And while I know the story of Jimmy’s possession was written to give more dramatic weight to Jimmy’s choices I just love the idea of Cas wooing his vessel through tests of faith. It’s something no other angel does on the show and I love to think that this is yet another way that Castiel is unique among the Host.

Quotestiel:

Where the hell is Castiel?

More private? We’re inside my head.

It’s easy to act chivalrous when your wonder girl powers aren’t working.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn picspam #spn 4x20 #the rapture #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #jimmy novak #claire novak #amelia novak #supernatural season 4 #wayward sisters

[marcythewerewolf]

I am suddenly reminded of my giant, never to be written TDA AU, where the events of Lady Midnight happen a few years earlier, and slightly differently. Malcolm successfully raises Annabel and then kind of kidnaps the Blackthorn kids and quickly loses any control of the situation because Annabel is not a happy zombie girl and Julian and Emma aren’t making things easy for him and Arthur’s ghost is kicking around. Also Diana is trying to hunt them down and the faerie courts get involved. Everyone is mentally ill and everyone is messed up. It’s a disaster, and I just wanted to get it all down somewhere since I love it and it will never be expressed in the two million word epic gothic format it truely deserves, so a super long summary textpost will have to suffice. Warning for being just... so long. This is practically fic, guys. 

It would start shortly after Julian and Emma’s parabatai ceremony, I think, so they’d be fourteen or so and still dealing with this fresh soul bond on their consciences. When the deaths start up Diana successfully conceals them from lil’ Emma, and because all the people who would foil him are too young to really put up a fight or be much of an adversary, Mark doesn’t come back and Malcolm more or less gets away with most of his plan up until the last part. He still needs that Blackthorn blood. 

Meanwhile Julian is starting to have suspicions. Handling most of the Institute’s paperwork in secret, he’s cottoned onto the fact that there is an ongoing investigation and Centurions are in the city (the Clave sent a cursory note to Arthur). He tells Emma and while she tears off to search the city as much as a fourteen year old girl without a car can, he guards the Institute. He’s there when Malcolm turns up and asks to speak to Arthur alone, upstairs. He’s perceptive enough to realize something is off, and confronts Malcolm. Malcolm, who has known Julian for years now and is getting kind of tired of lying, lays it all out on the table. Yeah, sure, I’m totally going to murder someone. I thought your uncle might be nicer to you, since you haven’t harmed me much, literal ninth grader that you are, but I will absolutely take you down and grab Dru if that’s what it takes. I’m a warlock, I could do it. Make a choice, Julian. And don’t get in my way. 

And Julian, still not old enough to grow a beard but with his father’s blood on his hands, hesitates. That’s enough. Arthur draws himself together, falls over his desk, and says Malcolm can have him, under one condition. He has to promise to take care of the Blackthorn children. 

Malcolm is delighted, since a willing sacrifice is so much better. He’ll look after the kiddos, sure thing. No skin off his back, once Annabel is back. But Arthur’s a big man, and Malcolm isn’t, so Julian is enlisted to help carry him out. 

Julian is like neck deep in this and having nine different crises, but there’s no way to back out. He helps carry Uncle Arthur out. He tells Livvy and Ty (all of twelve) to hold down the fort until he gets back, because Uncle Arthur is very, very sick and Malcolm is helping him. Then, once they’re out of earshot, he puts a knife to Malcolm’s throat and makes him swear again, on his life, that the children won’t be harmed. Arthur is important. He’s all that’s keeping their family together. 

“I’ll fix that,” Malcolm reassures him, and portals off, and comes back with Uncle Arthur’s blood all down his shirt and a waxen, slightly stunned looking young woman with long dark hair and Blackthorn eyes in his arms. 

“She tried to stab me a little,” Malcolm says, looking lovestruck, “But I think she’s just in shock. Help me get her to the Institute, will you? Then tell your siblings to pack their bags. Emma too, I suppose.”

The choices at that point are to go along with Malcolm, or tell the Clave that the only family member willing to take care of them all just got murdered by a rogue warlock. Julian is willing to get a little kidnapped for that, at least for now, while he makes another plan. 

He tells the kids and a recently returned, slightly grimy, disappointed Emma that something terrible has happened, he’ll explain later, but for now they need to get out. Then, just for effect, they set the Institute a little bit on fire on the way out. Just the bits they don’t use. 

Malcolm is kind of overwhelmed as well. He expected to be going back to his cottage in Cornwall with Annabel, triumphant, with the Clave none the wiser to his scheme. Instead he’s mildly daggared, and has half a dozen kids on his hands who he kind of promised to take care of. And he may have spilled a bit too much of his plan to Julian, so he doesn’t want the boy leaking that to the Clave. He could just murder all the baby Blackthorns, but that seems a little unfair, especially now that Annabel is awake. She’s less stabby if she wakes up and is immediately disoriented by a ten year old girl asking her lots of questions about her hair. 

The cottage won’t fit them all, but not going to Cornwall is... not an option. He really needs to return to the site the tortures inflicted on him and Annabel to really feel like love has won out. He ends up dropping the kids at the Cornwall Institute, and then staying to keep an eye on them. It’s a place full of bad memories, but it can also fit a lot of people. They dust the spiders out, settle the kids down and then Julian and Malcolm and Annabel have a Chat. 

(Emma is barred, because she still doesn’t know Malcolm killed her parents.  He rather suspects she wouldn’t like that. Julian doesn’t know either, but he trust himself to keep it a secret less with Emma around. She’s wily and more focused on revenge than child protection.)

Julian wants a guarantee of safety for the kids, a modicum of security, all the comforts of home. The Institute at Cornwall, once it’s cleaned out a bit, can provide that. He wants to know they won’t be separated. Malcolm can definitely promise that. Malcolm wants to know that Julian isn’t going to snitch on him to the Clave, or talk to the Clave, or really go anywhere near the Clave. Julian isn’t ready to say that unless the pot is sweetened a little, so Malcolm pulls his ace. He has contacts in Faerie and he can try to negotiate for Mark’s return. That seals the deal. 

Annabel doesn’t say much, but she’s listening very closely, and occasionally asking questions about how the Clave works these days, and how the Blackthorn kids are related to her, and how they ended up parentless, and why Julian is so blase about the fact his uncle just got stabbed. The last one kind of messes Julian up, which by extension messes Annabel up, and Malcolm kind of vaguely dismisses the meeting by picking up his girlfriend and fleeing. 

MEANWHILE

Diana Wrayburn shows up to work the next morning and finds out that all her charges have disappeared into the night with most of their possessions, there is blood all over the front hall (Arthurs) and also a third of the Institute is smoking mildly. Authorities are alerted. A full scale investigation is launched, with Diana both desperately trying to find her kids and also not blow her cover. 

Ty is exploring the grounds of the Institute, finding lots of fun bugs and hidey-holes and investigating. Dru is helping. Livvy is locked in a spider free room with Taavy. Ty finds lots of interesting old books, some sketches, and some hints of Annabel and Malcolm’s former life. He thinks they were nice. They grew up together, just like Julian and Emma!

Back to the big couples, Emma is not happy about being locked out of the loop, and compensates by finding Julian ASAP and grilling him for details. She gets... some of them. Not enough. There is a parabatai fight, ending in a parabatai makeup, because even Emma has to admit it’s all pretty messed up. Julian finally spills some more deets, like the fact that Arthur has been ill for years and also he died as part of a ritual to bring Annabel back from the dead. He says Arthur’s participation in this human sacrifice was “not really voluntary, I don’t think, it was messed up”. He does not mention his part in the messed up. Then he says Malcolm can get Mark back. Emma says she thinks Malcolm is very shady now and she doesn’t trust Annabel, but for Mark, she’ll refrain from stabbing. 

In a closed room, behind two sets of doors, Annabel is saying much the same thing to Arthur’s ghost. Arthur, like any good if befuddled uncle leaving his brother’s kids with a murderous immortal, decided to stick around through the afterlife. Unfortunately none of the Blackthorn kids can see him, so he can’t do much for them. Annabel on the other hand spent a lot of time dead and is very much aware of his presence. They have a conversation that more or less boils down to: “Your life sucks, my life sucked, Malcolm is messed up, I’m sorry, but let’s focus on the little ones, shall we?” There are some arguments. Even in death Arthur is still prone to rambling. His illness didn’t stop when his heart did. Annabel just got forcibly revived and is just super duper traumatized. They bounce off of each other for a while before Arthur makes an impassioned plea on the behalf his niblings, which is only slightly ruined by the fact that he can’t remember some of their names. Annabel decides that she will also not stab, and she will go talk to Malcolm. There are going to be some changes around here. She didn’t come back from the dead to be anyone’s happy ending, especially not Mr. Murder A Middle Aged Invalid. They’re doing things Annabel style now. 

*cue sunglasses and long YEAAAH*

*also cue the disaster of the century as six kids, a murderer, a ghost, and a dead girl, try to play happy families in a rundown old ghost house in England*

 Malcolm is pretty desperate to please, even if it means playing nice with the little Blackthorns. He pretended to love them for years, pretended so hard sometimes he forgot he didn’t. He can pretend a little longer, especially if it’s what Annabel wants, or at least what he thinks Annabel wants. 

Julian and Emma are pretty desperate to keep Malcolm and Annabel away from the kids, but aren’t sure how to do so without revealing the whole “semi-murdered Uncle Arthur” thing which seems... less than ideal. So at least for a little while it’s all adorable, slightly creepy hijinks. Malcolm tries to take Tavvy and Dru down to the store in town for a shopping trip, Emma runs interference. Unbeknownst to anyone, Uncle Arthur’s ghost helps. Annabel and Livvy bond while Julian freaks out in the background. Everyone pitches in with magic and runes to get the spiders out of the basement, but because of Ty’s campaigning they have to do it non-lethally. Just good, cute, unsettling stuff while the kids settle into the abandoned Institute and Annabel readjusts to life. Movie night! Ice cream on the beach! 

Annabel and the twins bond especially. She values their contributions a lot, and they like having someone new and adult and mostly trustworthy around. She’s like a cool older sister who’s actually old enough to drive. Sometimes you can hear her wake up screaming at night, but it’s all fine. She shows them all the places around town and the Institute where she and Malcolm used to hide and play, teaches them about the animals and the plants and the pixies in the sea grass. She and Livvy spar. It’s very sweet. People on th

All the while Julian and Emma are putting pressure on Malcolm to follow through on his promise to get Mark back. Malcolm is busy doting on Annabel and cleaning up the cottage and setting up wards to protect them all from the Clave, but Julian and Emma are insistent. They demand action. This is because they have a Plan, or at least thirty percent of one. 

Since they’re still kids, and they are technically hostages, they figure they’re all right. No one can blame children for cooperating with their captors. They snuck into town to call Helen and Aline, assured them that they were all right, and checked in on the status of the Clave (the investigation into the disappearance of the Blackthorn children is ongoing but being blamed on faeries because why not?). All the while they’re collecting information on Malcolm, what magic he has active, and what his ties are the the courts, so that they’ll have a good body of blackmail material. They general gist of the plan is to get Mark then make a run for it and seek refuge in Idris, possibly lighting some things on fire on the way out. With information and maybe a few magic relics grabbed from Malcolm, they figure they can make a deal with the Consul. At the very least, Mark will be with Helen, and not alone. 

It isn’t a very good plan, but they’re fourteen. So sue them. 

Malcolm is dragging his feet though, which means Emma and Julian are left brooding and trying to take care of the kids and maintain some order in an orderless environment. Julian gives them lessons, so they won’t be behind when they go back. He and Annabel bond over art, it’s great. 

BACK WITH DIANA

Things are not great. She’s been cleared of all suspicion, because why would she be the culprit, she’s a Shadowhunter, but there’s little progress on actually finding the Blackthorn kids. The Clave is super not happy, since Nephilim blood is precious and losing six full blooded Shadowhunters in training at once is less than ideal, but all they’ve done is sent lots of war parties to negotiate with the Seelie and Unseelie courts which Diana doesn’t think is going to get them anywhere. The whole thing is quickly becoming less about finding the children, and more about demonizing faeries, and by extension, Downworlders, further, and she’s had enough. 

She makes a choice. She leaves Idris and the investigation, goes back to LA, and starts searching for the truth on her own. This cop is going rogue. Of course, like most people looking for something in LA, she starts with Johnny Rook, who is locked down in his house under like twenty wards. 

After she breaks in, she and Johnny argue a lot. She meets little Kit, which gives her enough bargaining power in the conversation to weasel out of Johnny that Malcolm is the one who told him to hide, that Shadowhunters were looking for trouble. Diana realizes that Malcolm must have been a suspect as well, he was close to the Blackthorns, and goes to his LA house, only to find it abandoned. She calls him, he tells her he got interrogated but didn’t have anything helpful to say and wanted to get out of town in case they were looking for someone to blame. 

Dead end. Diana decides to take a different approach. She asks Catarina and some other warlocks of her acquaintance to help dig up a connection between the Blackthorns and the deaths the Silent Brothers told her to hide, the ones killing faeries and humans around Los Angeles. Looking back, she thinks she recognizes the symbols on the bodies from Emma’s Wall of Revenge, and there’s a definite suspicious circumstance there. Then she figures out how to get to Wrangel Island to talk to Helen and Aline. 

They’re weirdly unhelpful, closed off and edgy about the investigation. Part of that might be that they’ve been hurt before, but Diana feels like something is off. It all stinks, and she needs to figure out why. 

So she goes back to Johnny Rook. This time, she’s getting answers, even if she has to camp out in front of his house and harass him to get them. 

Arthur’s ghost and Annabel are bonding over the time they spent in Cornwall as young people, centuries apart, and the dangers of loving where love is forbidden. Annabel opens up about her memories of her death a little and has some traumatic flashbacks. Arthur quotes Marcus Aurelius at her. 

Malcolm finally brings Iarlath home and introduces him to Julian and Emma, “Yes, these are the children I am in a mutual blackmail pact with, my girlfriend loves the little rascals to death, bless them” and starts to open the issue of Mark. Iarlath is here for his own reason entirely. Shadowhunters are asking about children, Malcolm. They’re very insistent. It’s making trouble and it’s jeopardizing the King’s interests. You need to either kill these kids and blame it on some else or return them in a non-dangerous way. Like, maybe cut out their tongues so they can’t say anything? Idk, just a suggestion. 

Malcolm: Dude, Annabel wouldn’t approve of that. 

Iarlath: Why does everyone always get boring after they get into a relationship?

Emma and Julian are both obviously very alarmed, but Julian, a forward thinker, always, has a way to pull this in his advantage. The Clave isn’t happy, huh? Well, he could make that easier, maybe misdirect them a little bit. Some anonymous letters saying the kids have run away, for example, or some other way to push blame onto an alternate party. Iarlath gets where he’s going and has to admit, it’s not a terrible plan to shift the fault. In fact, the Seelie Court has a long history of cooperating with the kidnapping of Blackthorn children, doesn’t it?

Julian is starting to feel a little bit out of his depth, so Emma makes some vague threats as well, and Iarlath decides he’ll talk it over with his king and get back to you, Malcolm and kids. Maybe you’ll get your big brother back, who knows? In the meantime, the Unseelie Court will be keeping a close eye on him. 

Everyone leaves the meeting feeling a little shaken up. Malcolm suggests a day out on the town, mostly because he really hates being in the Institute, but their plans get interrupted when Annabel sprints in saying that she saw a warlock woman with blue skin in town. Luckily the lady didn’t known her, or know enough to recognize Annabel in jeans and a tee, but Annabel rightly surmises that this means someone is poking around Cornwall. They hustle the kids down to the basement and Malcolm goes back to his cottage to run interception on Catarina, who started looking up Blackthorn scandals as a favour to Diana, remembered Malcolm’s history with the family, and is now getting suspicious. Ty beats everyone at Uno while Malcolm convinces Catarina that he’s looking for the missing Blackthorn tykes too, really! He decided to use their old family home in England as a base, figuring English raised Arthur might decide to come back if they were to escape from their captors. 

Catarina buys it, but just barely, and she leaves sounding mighty suspicious. This means that it’s probably time for a change of pace. Time to hide out in the Unseelie Court!

The Blackthorns are reluctant to go, and so is Annabel, for her own reasons. Since Arthur spent a lot of time in Cornwall when he was younger, he can more or less hang out around the Institute, but he can’t come to Faerie, and she likes having a ghostly presence on her side. Also, knowing he was who rescued Malcolm but not her, she is not the Unseelie King’s biggest fan. 

There’s an argument, and despite technically having more power in this situation, Malcolm is helplessly outnumbered and gets shot down. Eventually he concedes defeat, but does point out that it’s probably not a good idea for the kids to leave the Institute anymore, which does Not make Livia happy, because, as it turns out, she has been taking advantage of the trips to make friends with a bunch of local girls and now has a crush on a mundane girl she met at the beach. 

Nevertheless, Julian rules, best to stay safe. Livia flounces off to sulk, accompanied by a sympathetic Dru. Emma goes to practice stabbing things, since she has a lot of anger issues to work out at this point and is getting antsy cooped up. All the Shadowhunters kind of are. They’re meant for fights, not interminable politics. 

Back with Diana and the Rooks, we get a lot of worldbuilding about the Market and Johnny’s place in it while Diana just relentlessly trails him, and by extension little Kit, though she is trying to leave the kid out of it. 

She has lots of contacts due to her medical needs, but nothing like Johnny’s reservoir of friends and favours. She sees Barnabas and Anselm, and marks Anselm down on her list of suspects since he and Arthur were close. Nothing related to the Blackthorns other than a lot of ill-will comes up, though everyone is even more against the fair folk these days, and she sees Hyacinth putting up a fight against the new surge of prejudice. 

Eventually Johnny catches her and she and he have a long conversation full of thinly veiled threats. Diana brings up Emma’s visits to him, Johnny points out that that’s more Diana’s fault then his, then makes a veiled reference to Diana’s medical status. Diana lashes back with an ill thought out jab at Johnny’s kid, young Kit, and Johnny panics a little. Actually, a lot. Maybe even a little too much. 

In a flash of insight, Diana throws one of her weapons at him, and it lights up when he catches it, confirming her suspicions. She now has the power needed to make Johnny talk, at least a little, but finds with a sinking feeling that she really doesn’t want to use it. She’s not going to ruin another set of lives through the Clave. She apologizes, recommends Johnny find Kit a good combat teacher because she saw that boy trying to come and confront her a few times and if he’s that much of a troublemaker he should know how to fight, then excuses herself, promising not to mention it to anyone. Johnny, in a rare show of good faith, throws her a line. Something is going on with the Unseelie, something dark and complicated, and factions inside faerie aren’t happy about it. He suggests she find someone there willing to talk to her. 

Once again, it comes back to the fair folk. Diana is not thrilled. 

And a cut to Helen and Aline, who have their own stuff going on. When your mysteriously missing younger sibling calls you out of the middle of nowhere and tells you not to worry, it somehow raises even more questions. Helen trusts Julian absolutely, but she also knows he’s just a kid and whatever’s going on with him, he’s going to need help. So Helen is kind of putting together an army, through Skype. She’s got Magnus and Alec, who know Clary and Jace are at the Seelie Court, interrogating her and looking for the kids. She knows there are other people out looking for them too. Someone named Tessa and someone named Jem and a lot of other Downworlders, who know clearing their name is bound to get the Clave to stop poking around. The New York Wolf pack and Magnus’s alliance have promised to help out if things come to a fight. 

Aline is handling the Shadowhunter side of things, coordinating with her mom and listening to gossip from her dad and passing it on. Meanwhile Helen and Aline both are keeping their eyes on some weird ward activity, looking for any sign that they need to call in the troops. 

Diana calls up Anselm Nightshade and has a nice chat with him about the best way to get in touch with the fey outside of Clave rules. Anselm, who used to be a Shadowhunter once, comments that he knows for a fact the Rosales family used to have ties to them, and they’re not too far away. Diana considers this for a while, considers Anselm with his shady business dealings and seventeen tiny dogs, and then decides she’s going to trust him on this one. In the meantime, she asks him to talk to the local Downworlders and make it clear that the best way to get this Manhunt and Blame Party About The Blackthorn Children over with is to find the real culprits. Otherwise, the Clave and all the Shadowhunters who she knows have just been waiting for a chance to scapegoat the Downworlders? They’ll start a war, or a registration or something. 

Anselm agrees. He’s seen this sort of situation before, he’ll keep an eye out. Questionable business ventures or not, he knows no one really profits in a conflict, especially not the closest people to the epicenter of it. 

With that promise in hand, and some century old intel on the Rosales, Diana heads down to Mexico City to find someone to talk to about faeries. 

Back at the Blackthorn house, tensions are running high when Iarlath comes back and says that the king will see them, in person, to discuss the matters of Mark Blackthorn and getting the Clave off their back, because it is kind of an emergency at this point? It’s getting emergent. He doesn’t say as much, but he does look a little nervous. 

With Catarina poking around, leaving anyone behind isn’t really an option. They’re going to have to haul everyone to the Unseelie Court, including the little kids. Julian isn’t happy about that, but no one is really happy about this. Time passes strangely in faerie land after all, and they have no guarantee except the King’s word that things will still be peachy when they get back. 

Still, they get everyone decked out in coats and socks and sturdy shoes, pack some bags of food and weapons (though Iarlath insists that they won’t need the latter) and set out for the nearest fairy fort to make their entrance, Iarlath escorting them and making all the Blackthorns very uncomfortable. 

(Annabel whispers goodbye to Arthur before they go, and promises to take care of his nieces and nephews. Arthur gives her some bizarre advice about dealing with the fey, then promises to look after the house.)

They trek across faerie, which takes more time than it should because Taavy and Dru get tired and Emma gets distracted by a revel and kisses a very cute boy who then turns out to be about four hundred years old. Iarlath tries to rush them, but Annabel and Emma object to being bossed around on principle and push back. When they enter Unseelie lands, Julian is the first to notice that their runes don’t work like they’re supposed to, since he’s been using them to keep everyone old enough to wear them awake and moving. Malcolm administers some emergency ice cream as a replacement, and they all move on, but are moderately freaked out because Faerie isn’t supposed to work like this and Iarlath refuses to answer questions on the topic. 

Eventually they make it to the court, where the Unseelie King greets Malcolm like he knows him, and Annabel like he knows of her, and gives the Blackthorn children a general unimpressed once over before asking who he’s supposed to be negotiating with here, because all he sees are children. Not even big children! 

Julian, trying to hold hands with all four of his younger siblings at once, says it’s him, he’s in charge. Relatively in charge. Emma is his stony faced backup while he awkwardly makes his case, but the entire thing is undermined by the fact that Dru is staring at everything and Ty is laying on his stomach inspecting the grass with interest, and also he’s holding a six year old. Livvy is getting increasing distracted by the nice boys, presumably the king’s youngest sons, on the edge of the circle, and is starting to wander off towards them, and eventually does escape with her twin to explore, much to everyone in the Court’s delight. The overwhelming impression is that they think this is like watching a bunch of kittens trying to scam the UN. Very cute, little Shadowhunters. 

Livvy, meanwhile, is making friends and taking names among the preteen section of the Unseelie Court, while Ty hangs back and listens carefully. One boy pushing his way from the very back of the throng is catching his attention though. He looks about thirteen, or so, with fair hair and the rich clothes of nobility, and people keep trying to hold him back from the Shadowhunters but he’s hard to deter. Ash, as he introduces himself, hasn’t ever seen a Shadowhunter before and has some questions. Livvy is tightlipped on the subject of her family, but friendly, and asks lots of questions in return. Ty, sensing based on the sudden guard presence around them, that this fellow young man is important, very loudly brings up the subject of their brother Mark who was stolen from them and who they really want back. Ty is straightforward, but earnest, and eventually the adults around decide that a pair of twelve year olds, Shadowhunters or not, probably aren’t a threat to Ash and the younger princes. They all talk about weapons for a while, while Ty, a born mystery solver, hangs back and thinks for a while about where he’s seen Ash’s face before.

Diana goes to the Mexico Institute and first has an audience with Cristina’s mother which goes very, very badly and more or less ends with her threatening to call the Clave because they will not be involved in treason. However as Diana leaves, she is pulled into a corner by the dynamic trio of Cristina, Diego, and Jaime, sixteen and fourteen, respectively, and pretty interested all of them in faeries. Cristina especially likes the idea of getting in touch with them, especially to save the Blackthorns (Diego says she has a minor fixation) and is willing to offer her substantial teenage knowledge, access to the Institute library, and the help of some of the elder members of the Rosales clan who Diego and Jaime know might be more sympathetic. Although the family history with the fey doesn’t get discussed much anymore, it’s still there, and it might be enough to help Diana. 

After some hasty research, because she doesn’t know how much of a time limit she’s on, Diana decides the best thing to do would be to jump the moon path as soon as possible and use some information from the Rosales to find the Wild Hunt, one of the parties Anselm mentioned Hyacinth mentioned was not thrilled with the current situation in faerie. She knows Julian and the Blackthorns well enough to know that they’ve never truly forgotten about Mark, and whatever’s going on he might be involved. Seeing the Hunt, much less straight up summoning them, is wildly dangerous, but Diana is willing to give it a try. 

The second young Cristina Rosales, teen optimist, hears about Diana’s plans she wants to come as well, but Diana, Diego, and Jaime all talk her down. Diana departs, alone, to make her way into faerie. On the way in Cristina Rosales catches up with her. Diana tries to send her back, but Cristina refuses to be dissuaded and uses her medallion, a powerful charm against the dangerous time streams of the realm, as a bargaining chip. Since, short of wrestling the Rosales girl home, which Diana doesn’t have time for, she doesn’t know how else to make her go away, she reluctantly accepts her assistance. They cross into faerie together, meeting various guardians along the way and doing the usual faerie song and dance of riddles, enigmatic advice, and strange sacrifices. Diana gives up a weapon that belonged to her late sister, and Cristina is told when she would naturally die, which shakes her even though she admits that as a Shadowhunter she’s probably not going to make it that far. 

Eventually they’re on solid ground, and by a stream of blood, Diana readies herself to call the Wild Hunt. She makes Cristina hide, then calls on Gwyn Ap Nudd. Gwyn Ap Nudd, obediantly, appears, along with a stampede of riders bearing down on her. Without flinching, Diana stands them down, and, shouts her intentions. Gwyn, suitably impressed and a little charmed, stops and dismounts. 

Diana says she is looking for the Blackthorn children, whose disappearance has caused so much chaos, and that failing that she would like to see her brother. For the sake of all of Faerie, this matter must end as soon as possible. 

Gwyn admits he doesn’t have Mark anymore, though he wishes he does. He was taken by emissaries of the Unseelie Court, and is now in their custody. Besides, even if Gwyn wanted to help, which he kind of does because this whole disaster is getting messy and also Diana is very pretty, he couldn’t. He and all his riders swore not to go after Mark. Also, though you are lovely, strange Shadowhunter lady, you did just ring up the Wild Hunt. That has to have consequences. 

Prepared for this by the Rosales kids, Diana answers that she’s willing to meet her fate, but first, she would like a favour. A small gift, for a doomed woman. Gwyn, sensing where this is going and willing to be “tricked” into not murdering this very nice lady, agrees, expecting to be asked for a rowan branch picked by his own hand, or something like that. Which, in fairness had been what Diana was planning. 

Except... a young man with blue hair is making frantic hand gestures as her and he looks like he’s been crying, and do you know what? Diana Wrayburn hasn’t gotten far through playing it safe so far. Instead, Diana asks for his cape. 

Gwyn is furious. He calms down quickly though, seems to realize what’s going on, and begs her to ask him for anything else. Anything but this. 

Now, they’re really cooking with gas. Diana asks for, just to start with, the full story of what’s going on and why. The Hunt, meanwhile, is pulling a discovered Cristina out of the underbrush, but Gwyn waves them down. He’s being blackmailed by an attractive lady over here. 

Gwyn gives up the whole story, and then some, at least as much as he can say without violating his oaths. Something is going on with the Unseelie, it’s not Super Great, Mark was taken by them, he’s probably there now. The other Blackthorn children he hasn’t heard direct word of, but if they took Mark something must be going down. Diana tells him everything she’s figured out as well, that there is a faction in the Clave determined to make life hard for Downworlders, that they’re coming down hard now, that the fey are being scapegoated with every day the Blackthorn kids stay missing. She says that she thinks Julian and Emma left to find Mark and possibly revenge for the deaths of Emma’s parents, who might have been killed by the Fair Folk or another party in the aftermath of the Dark War, as part of some dark rite, and that they’re in way over their head. Also, this is Cristina, she won’t leave me alone, because all I needed was another teen in danger. Gwyn agrees, kids are trouble. For example, slightly traitorous blue haired boy (introduced as Kieran) has been trying to run away every day since Mark was taken, and frankly Gwyn doesn’t blame him. 

Cristina recognizes the sigil on Kieran’s gloves as that of the Unseelie King, and asks if Kieran is one of his sons. Gwyn can neither confirm nor deny. 

Recognizing that Gwyn really wants to help but can’t Diana comes up with a plan. Gwyn can’t go after Mark, but surely he can repay her for not taking his cloak by letting her and Cristina go and lending them Kieran to “guide them to the Unseelie Court” (and most certainly not do any Mark rescuing whatsoever). 

Gwyn is straight up delighted to agree, hands over Kieran with orders to take these nice ladies and help them however he can. Then, just to be safe, he gives Diana a kiss and slips her an acorn she can summon him with in the future. 

Kieran is sulky until he realizes this is his Mark rescue chance, and then brightens up considerably. He still isn’t good company, but he pulls Cristina and Diana up on his horse and swears he’ll convey them to the Unseelie. He really wants his Mark back. Cristina is visibly puzzled as to why, meanwhile Diana is just resigned. She hates working with teenagers so much. 

Back with Julian, the Unseelie King is ready to make his case. It’s a very short case. It goes, hi, we have your brother, we have some ideas of ways to make the Clave leave us alone, and you’re all going to cooperate, or else. Just to make his point, he drags a very bloody, semi-unconscious Mark out, and then starts to make his demands. 

He wants the Blackthorn children, and he wants them peaceably, and frankly since their runes and steles don’t work and they just wandered into his court without securing really good terms of safe passage, he doesn’t think he’s going to have much trouble with this, right Malcolm?

Malcolm hesitates, and Annabel goes off. 

Everyone, faerie and Shadowhunter alike, watches as they have just the most epic row in the history of rows. There is shouting, there are accusations, there’s a lot of “I brought you back to life!” and a lot more of “well maybe you didn’t consider that I didn’t want that!”. It’s messy, both of them are rapidly flirting on the edge of a total nervous breakdown since most of their mental health at this point is questionable. Although it starts off being about the Blackthorn children and how much Malcolm hates them and how much Annabel hates that he hates them (which makes Dru and Tavvy very upset) it eventually devolves into a rehash of their shared past. It’s... disturbingly like Emma and Julian’s childhood, actually. Especially in the details. 

All of their story is awful and heartbreaking and the Unseelie seem to be really into it, honestly, which makes sense. Even Emma and Julian are nodding along as they slowly back away with the kids. The closer they get to the specifics of Annabel’s resurrection though, the more edgy Malcolm (who still has some self preservation instincts) gets. He really doesn’t want Annabel talking about this, but Annabel is on full rant now. She can’t be stopped, won’t be stopped. 

Uncle Arthur’s death, in every gory detail, spills out from her, the way the blood felt on her skin, how she could feel herself coming back to life, inch by painful inch as his lifeblood flowed out. Julian is shaking. The twins are staring in horror, and so are Dru and Tavvy. Even Emma, who mostly knew this happened, is pretty upset. No one likes to hear about an old man being killed. 

But Annabel goes further. She talks about rituals, about hands, about dark murders, about burning and drowning, and Emma slowly starts to feel recognition sink over her. She knows this, she knows she does. 

“So many people, Malcolm!” Annabel shouts, “So many people I had to feel die, just to come back to life. Do you know what that’s like, do you? Ever since you killed that couple two years ago, I felt everything.”

Emma knows at almost the exact same moment Malcolm realizes how close Annabel is to spilling the secrets that have kept Julian and Emma more or less cooperative. He moves on Annabel, hands raised. 

And Emma, in the middle of the Unseelie Court, stabs him in the back with Cortana. 

There is silence for a second. 

Then the Unseelie King starts clapping, and eventually the whole Court is, a hollow sort of applause that rings around the children, cages them in, reminds them of how outnumbered they are. 

“Now that our little piece of theater is over,” he suggests, “And you’ve killed, frankly, the only one of you who I think could put up much of a fight here, why don’t you all surrender?”

Back with Diana, Cristina is in full sixteen year old form, asking Kieran all sorts of questions about the Hunt and Mark and is it really so bad if Gwyn gives up his cloak. Kieran is ignoring her, and Diana is focusing on logistics. She isn’t so naive as to think they’ll be able to charge into a full faerie court and win. She’s going to have to do this stealthily. Luckily Kieran, who knows his way around the court, thinks he can help. Anything to help Mark. 

In the Unseelie Court, things are not going great. Annabel has rallied and is trying to make a case for herself and the Blackthorn kids, using some of Arthur’s quotes about Faeries and also some random latin, but while it does distract everyone (there’s nothing the folk love more than a good show and a compelling disaster, and Annabel is more or less the Hottest of Messes right now) she isn’t putting together much of a coherent argument. Julian grabs one of her lines about “children and the mad” though and uses it to point out that technically, all the Blackthorn’s fall under the purview of the fey right now, and can therefore demand certain rights, unlike enemy Shadowhunters who wandered in illegally. 

And... no one can really argue right now that they aren’t children and Annabel isn’t mentally ill, but really, child, what are you going to do with that, demand trial by combat?

Almost immediately upon hearing that this is an option, Emma does so. She wants trial by combat! For Mark! He’s blood, and blood matters to faeries, and they want him back, as is their right as relatives. 

The Unseelie King accepts, of course, because it would be wrong not to. However he’s not willing to let Emma face combat, he needs these kids alive to placate the Clave. No, he wants Annabel. 

Annabel isn’t in any sort of state to fight right now, that much is obvious. She’s a powerful warrior, but no one staring at the love of their life’s corpse on the ground is really in much of a state to fight. Whatever her (big) issues with Malcolm, they did love each other, and between that and the Baseline Stress of being Annabel Lee Blackthorn at this point, she’s barely managing to not disassociate out of her. 

Julian is actually ninety percent panicking now, because he doesn’t want Emma to fight but also he doesn’t want Annabel to lose (which she definitely will). Emma grabs his arm, taps “TRUST ME” on his hand, and nods. He knows what he has to do, he clearly does, even if she doesn’t entirely yet. 

So Jules, well read up on the fey because he’s had to be, fourteen, and utterly determined, steps forward, kneels next to Annabel, and slashes a tendon in her left leg. Blood spurts, Annabel collapses. Then he stands up. 

“I think technically Annabel is injured now, and unable to fight duels? Take Emma, or me, I guess, but I think you’re going to have better luck convincing the Clave Emma accidentally died then me. She’s impulsive, you see.”

He keeps eye contact until the Unseelie King, rapidly losing patience with this and the Blackthorn kids period, gives the order to have his champion readied. They’re fighting a duel with a little girl, apparently. 

Against the fully armoured faerie knight, Emma looks even more outmatched than wild eyed Annabel (who Julian is now trying to bandage up without looking away from his parabatai). She proves herself quickly however, making up for what she lacks in reach and size and experience with sheer tenacity and down and dirty fighting. At one point she does knee her opponent in the groin. She’s got way more skill than her age would suggest, and she gets him down on the ground eventually. Jules’ nod is all the confirmation that she needs that she needs to make the killing blow. 

She’s killed faeries before, but here, in the hush of the ring, with her adversary prone and not actively trying to kill her, it feels different. When she removes his helmet with shaking hands, she’s almost unsurprised to see her mother staring at her with wide, fearful eyes. 

Emma hesitates. She falls to pieces. And amid the laughing of the crowd, there is a childish shriek and Ty drags Ash forward, with a knife to his throat. 

Livia has a split second of trying to scold him for being rude, before she realizes that this is her twin and she’s always behind him. She draws her sword too, and uses it to keep everyone else at bay as Ty pulls Ash in front of the King, which takes longer than you’d think. Ash is strong for his age, or anyone’s age, and clearly has some combat training, but turns out to be no match for the combined strength of the twins and the element of surprise. 

As soon as Ty grabs him, the earth starts quaking, little shakes at first, but growing in size. By the time they’re standing in front of the furious King, next to Julian, the rumble is audible and Ty has to shout over it to say, 

“Let us go, or we’ll kill the Queen’s son.”

He doesn’t mention the other thing, because he’s not sure of it yet, but the moment of recognition as Dru looks at the boy is enough. Ty’s good at mysteries, and he knows this boy is the key to freedom. 

Back at Wrangel Island, Helen and Aline have already noticed the surges of magic around LA and Cornwall that marked Malcolm’s death. Now their entire maps are going wild. Something is up, as clearly as the sky is blue. Helen calls Magnus, waking him up from sleep, and tells him it’s time. Magnus turns over and wakes up Alec, who immediately contacts Jace, who is in the Seelie Court feeling the same phenomenon, and tells the Queen to find every warrior she can, now. Jem and Tessa, crashing on the Bane-Lightwood apartment’s pullout couch while they help with the case of the Missing Blackthorn kids, wake up immediately ready to help. Slowly, an army pulls together. 

In Los Angeles, Johnny Rook grabs Kit off the couch and throws him through the front door, before a swarm of demons descend on the house. Across the city, Catarina, searching Malcolm’s house, has had to save herself from the whole thing collapsing on her. When she fights her way out of the rubble, she notices the cloud of demons down city immediately, and on instinct moves to help. 

She gets to a bloody and running Kit, recognizes his face even though years of inheritance has changed it so much. With him pulled tightly to her side, she banishes the demons, using almost every bit of power she has. She’s older than Magnus, and she knows what she’s doing. 

Even with her considerable skills, it’s too late for Johnny once she gets to him, and she feels a moment of regret for the great-great-great adopted grandchild she never knew.

Then, because she’s a healer, she takes Kit away. It’s not healthy for a boy his age to be seeing things like this. 

The hostage situation unfolding in the Unseelie Court is Not Going Great. Weapons are finally being drawn, patience with these Shadowhunters wearing thin. Ash is still trying to fight free, and has bit Ty doing so, and now both Ty and Livia and Dru are restraining him one limb at a time. The ground is still quaking. Their steles are shaking slightly to, which concerns everyone. Emma is still on the ground, cradling what looks like her mother. Still, Ty remains adamant and the fact that they aren’t dead yet means he’s on to something. Julian pushes their hand. 

Except, as the Unseelie King reminds him coldly, he has a hostage too. He turns back to Mark... 

Only to find the guards around Mark in various states of being on the ground, and Kieran and a young dark haired girl in Shadowhunter clothes trying to sneak him away. Mark, who refused to even look at his half-siblings when they were placed in front of him, is similarly reluctant to trust Kieran. The Unseelie Court put him through some stuff. He is, however, not as opposed to Cristina, who’s a relative stranger and not immediately threatening.  

More faeries approach them, but Kieran shoots them, even as his father shouts curses on him as a traitor, and other things to the tune of “you get back here right now, young man!” Kieran wavers, but stays firm. Gotta save that Mark. 

In this drama, Annabel crawls Emma, still crying on the ground, but mostly forgotten amid the chaos. Emma is desperately trying to help her “mother” but no one is paying attention. 

Annabel pries her hands away, holds her close, and talks low and fast to her, about Julian, about the Blackthorns. 

You love him, don’t you? More than life itself? You would do anything for him, you have done anything for him. You put your revenge aside to help his brother, Arthur heard, Arthur told me, sweet girl. Now, put aside the past to help him, or he might die.

Her words shake Emma out of her reverie, just enough. It’s the memory of Julian’s skin on hers and the Blackthorn children, and the Hall of Accords when there was nothing but each other that helps her the rest of the way. 

She stares down at her mother, her mother’s lips moving, begging for help, telling her how much she loves her, how much she cares. 

“I avenged you”, she promises, and stabs down. 

The glamour lifts, and Emma, shaken but now starting to realize that she’s been tricked, pulls herself up, and Annabel as well. Waving Cortana wildly, they hobble over to Julian and the others. Faeries try to stop them, with swords and blows, but Diana is over her, protecting her, and helps get them back to the main group, the Blackthorn children and the wailing, increasingly hard to control Ash. 

Kieran and Cristina make a break for the woods with Mark, and Diana leans into Julian’s ear and says, “Explanations later. Your brother is safe, we need to go.”

Julian nods, and slowly the little bundle starts moving backwards, using Ash as a shield, the ground shaking underneath them. The court lets them, because they have no other choice. As soon as they’re away from the bulk of the group, Julian scoops Tavvy onto his back, tells Dru to hold onto him, and tells them all to run. 

They try. 

It’s nearly impossible, as a cluster of children and unwilling hostages and the injured. They can’t even let go of Ash for long enough to hand him to Emma, because he is just a tiny wolverine of a boy, and so Ty and Livvy are burdened down. Annabel is still limping. 

Kieran and Cristina are waiting for them, because Cristina made them, but they still have only one horse and no hope of escaping on foot. Kieran, realizing how big of a rescue operation this is, starts to regret things. The King and his steeds will be coming, sooner rather than later. 

Annabel, leaning on Emma for balance, right herself mostly and asks for a sword, because she’s going to stay behind and fight them off while everyone else runs. There are protests, some more heartfelt than others, but at the moment with her hair in her face  and her eyes flat, it seems to be the only thing Annabel is sure of. 

“I promised your Uncle I’d take care of you,” she say, “And it is not fair for the living to die, when the dead are right there to take the blow. Now go.”

Julian and Diana, no nonsense to the end, make them. Kieran is already gone, and he’s taken Mark and Cristina with him (To get the Hunt and help, he promises, but his horse cannot carry more, especially not people who might fall off, and though Cristina tries to give up her seat to Tavvy and Dru, the little ones can’t be trusted there) Livia pauses and reaches over Ash to pat Annabel’s hand and say goodbye. Emma lingers the longest, making sure everyone else runs into the woods, runs toward safety. 

“Thank you,” she says to Annabel. 

Annabel shrugs. “Go. Love your Julian, make the most of it.”

Emma is momentarily too scandalized to remember she needs to run. “We’re parabatai,” she points out, “It’s illegal.”

Annabel, sweet Annabel, shrugs. “Two centuries ago, I could not love Malcolm,” she points out. “And I paid the price. Make a better story, Emma Carstairs. And take care of our nephews and nieces. Now, run for your life.”

Emma does. Being young and fast, she catches up with the others quickly, and then keeps pace with them as they trip and fall over roots and branches, as the earth shakes around them. Julian tries to make Ty let Ash go, but as he collapses to the ground the earth starts going suspiciously ashy around him so Ty just grabs him by the collar again and keeps running. No time for that, whatever that was. 

They run, and run, and run, as the hounds close in behind them. There are some screams, Annabel’s, behind them. Diana gives in and picks up Dru, so they can go faster. 

Soon they are running on ash, white as the moon, and not the forest floor. Soon they are running breathless. 

When the army comes out of nowhere in front of them, Emma almost goes at the first person she sees just on instinct. The fact that it’s Clary Fray, looking oddly at home on a faerie horse, somewhat dissuades her. 

Ash, screaming at the top of his lungs, and Ty, halfway to a meltdown and screaming with him, collapse into a puddle as the group stops short and are quickly separated by Seelie Knights, which does seems to make Ash shape up somewhat. He seems almost... relieved? Delighted? Only Ty is really sure what’s going on and Ty has decided that if he is no longer needed he’s just going to fall apart. Livvy holds him tightly, but she’s crying as well. The rest of the Blackthorn kids dissolve as well, once the immediate threat is gone. Emma is injured from her duel, and finally realizes it. Tavvy and Dru are shellshocked but in the clingy way kids are. They refuse to let go of Julian, and Julian refuses to let go of Emma, and Emma won’t let go of anyone because she’s terrified if she does they’ll die, and frankly even though Clary and Jace are here, Emma isn’t really in a mental place to trust anyone anymore. 

Diana takes over as the leading adult, which is good, especially when Kieran shows up with the Hunt. Someone needs to adult here. She helps bandage Emma up, because runes still aren’t quite working. Then, once they’re back in the relative safety of the Unseelie Court, a blonde woman who looks like Mark applies poultices to Emma and the Blackthorns and a totally out of it Mark who calls her something in the language of the faeries that makes her cry. Then, she puts them all to bed. 

When they wake up, the world makes a little more sense. 

Things have been sorted out more or less in secret, in meetings between the Seelie Queen and Clary and Magnus, and at least one that blue haired Kieran got to attend which he is very proud of. Once Mark is sensible, there are tearful reunions. Diana introduces them all to Cristina, who “gives Emma a run for her money in terms of bullheadedness”. 

Clary brings them all in front of the Queen, who is resplendent. Ash, the screaming boy, looks very different and yet very much the same, in Seelie finery, sitting on the step below her. He and Ty and Livia make faces at each other. 

The matter of Ash’s ancestry is not exactly brought up, but with him in full daylight, it’s impossible to deny whose child he is. Emma looks livid. Julian just looks resigned. A tired looking Clary promises it’s all under control, seriously, auntie’s promise just, maybe don’t mention this to the Clave? It could make things... difficult. 

All the Blackthorn children promise, as long as they get Mark back. 

That’s more difficult to negotiate, but it gets done, and he’s theirs again, fresh faced and shining. Kieran is reluctant to see him go, but he’s even more reluctant to see Mark hurt again. 

Politics happen, in bits and pieces, but with their brother returned to them, the Blackthorn children don’t care. 

It’s when they get back to the Clave that things really get complicated. There are rounds of questioning, the Mortal Sword again, for the second time in their young lives. Clary coaches them all carefully on what to say, so as not to reveal too much. The reveal that Malcolm and the Unseelie Court collaborated on some great evil that literally shook magic to its core is enough to spook the Clave, they don’t need to know about Ash or some of the other messy stuff. 

The Cold Peace is upheld, to some extent, because there can be no forgiveness after what the Unseelie King did. The Queen on the other hand, is reluctantly welcomed back into the fold, some of the restrictions on her are weakened. 

It’s all Jia can do to protect Mark from the same backlash, but she does, using the great help the Blackthorns were and their bravery, convince the Clave that Mark can be forgiven, Helen pardoned. It will take a while to reassign Helen and Aline back, but they will come back and take over the LA institute as soon as anyone can find a qualified replacement for them. In the meantime, Diana is the Blackthorn children’s temporary guardian. It’s an empty gesture, at this point everyone important knows that Julian has been raising the kids for a while. 

Still, it seems important to at least try to protect the children, though at this point, Livia says they might as well not try. Been there, done that, been traumatized. 

(Tavvy and Dru are back to having nightmares of death and their father’s blood, except this time it’s Malcolm who’s being stabbed. Never mind how cruel he was, first he was kind and that’s a hard thing to forget. Livia and Ty’s nightmares are more ghoulish, they dream of Annabel’s fate and the empty Cornwall beach and the ground turning to ash underneath them. Emma doesn’t have nightmares, but she and Julian aren’t really sleeping these days. They sit up together instead, in each other’s arms, with the kids on the bed next to them, and find that as long as they draw an energy rune the next morning, they’re fine, which is weird. Maybe being in faerie made them stronger.)

Before Helen and Aline come back, there is one more thing to do. Julian asks Magnus to take them all to Cornwall, to the Institute there, and with all the Blackthorn children in the main hall, he thanks Uncle Arthur. He tells him their all fine now, they’re safe, and Mark and Helen are coming home, and please, if he can, he should be at peace now. The Blackthorns have had enough restlessness in death. 

Then, he and Emma take the children back out, through the paths Malcolm and Annabel once walked, and they go home. 

(As they pass the church on the way out, there’s an incident with a demon that has Magnus very concerned, but Emma and Julian light everything on fire, so it’s an issue for another day.)

Some more notes on this AU

Jem and Tessa are kind of miffed that as soon as they took a second to spend on another project, Catarina found the lost Herondale child before they could. They very much appreciate her help saving Kit though. Catarina is more reluctant to surrender this Herondale bb to the Clave, and instead offers to raise Kit in New York herself. He can go to the Institute after school and learn safely there. Kit adores her, and gets along well with Alec, although not so much Jace at first. He and Ty and Livvy meet though Clary, and stay in touch because Catarina insists Kit have other Shadowhunters his age to compare his life to. Livvy is delighted to have a penpal. 

The twins also keep in touch with Ash, although that’s less willing and more of a burgeoning nemesis-hood. Dru, possibly just to spite the twins, possibly as a way of acting out, insists she has a crush on him. Luckily time passes differently in faerie and the Seelie Queen is eager to keep him away from people, so other than a few instance of belligerent eye contact and some accidental dream sharing, it’s mostly at a distance. 

The primary reason they even see each other at all is because Kieran got handed to the Seelie Queen as a “hostage” after all the polticking went down. (It was the safest way to keep him away from his family and out of trouble.) Unfortunately Kieran isn’t going to let a little thing like technical prisonerhood prevent him from seeing Mark. Mark is still readjusting to being a Shadowhunter, and Kieran makes him confused, but it’s a good confused and also no one knows how to make them stop. 

It means lots of “Taking Kieran Back To The Seelie At 3AM” though. 

Cristina is delivered back to her family with a condemnation a dagger for bravery and an Official Scolding From The Consul. She’s grounded until she’s eighteen but she’s too happy with the results to care. She helped rescue Mark Blackthorn! She and Diana stay in touch, and though Diana she and Emma become especially close. Cristina swears that as soon as she’s of age she’s taking her travel year in LA. Diego and Jaime feel neglected in contrast. 

Helen returns to take care of the kids, and she and Mark are reunited, and it’s beautiful, but it’s still been years and she’s awkward around her younger siblings. Julian does a lot of the day to day childcare work, but he’s finally not taking care of every issue at the Institute on top of that and everyone comments on how less stressed he seems to be with his sister home. He and Emma spend a lot more time together, keeping their growing relationship secret. They learned a lot from Malcolm and Annabel, including how not to get caught. 

Bad things are still happening demonically speaking. No one is quite sure how to stop it, not even the Seelie Queen. Clary swears they’re going to get it under control though, and at least for now, Emma and Julian trust her. 

I think there would definitely be some followup books dealing with the Unseelie King’s revenge and Emma and Julian hurtling down the path of catastrophe and also Ash being a little anti-christ. The Black Book is still missing, ect. Annabel and Malcolm would come back as actual zombies. That sort of thing. I just really wanted more Blackthorn feels a tighter, more family focused narrative. Also, more Malcolm and Annabel. (And more Diana and Arthur, it turned out. Just, more traumatized grownups.)

I just... love these tragic kids so much and I want them to self destruct more explicitly and ten times as slowly. 

#the dark artifices #lord of shadows spoilers #malcolm fade #annabel blackthorn #diana wrayburn #arthur blackthorn #m writes #fanfic #blackthorn babies #long post very long post

[starstruckcloudgalaxy]

Many of us have been doing a lot of cooking during these weeks of lockdown; we’ve tried out new things and created our own recipes. Now how about going a step further, dear friends – and doing some baking? I must confess I’ve never been a great baker; cooking seemed to take up so much time already, so why spend even more time in the kitchen… But now that we’ve got more than enough time on our hands, we might as well give baking a try! Or rather, making sweets, because some of the recipes I’ve put down here for you don’t even require an oven.

You’ll probably have almost all the necessary ingredients for a simple cake at home: sugar, flour, baking powder, eggs and butter or margarine. You’ll probably also have one or more baking tins; you can use a round or a rectangular one for the recipes here, whichever you’ve got or prefer. Also, it would be helpful to have a hand mixer, kitchen scales and a measuring cup, and you’ll certainly need a big bowl for mixing your ingredients!

Speaking of which, the amounts mentioned here are for a regular cake for 4-6 persons; it would be very difficult if not impossible just to bake for 2. But then, those sweets don’t go off easily, and you’ll be able to enjoy them for days!

  Banana Bread

3 bananas, 2 eggs, 300g flour, 100g margarine, 150g sugar, 100ml milk, 2tsp baking powder, salt

The good old American banana bread has turned out to be THE lockdown baking favourite – partly because it’s very easy to do, but also because it’s just so… awesomely tasty!

Put the margarine and the sugar in a big bowl and whisk with a hand mixer (if you haven’t got one, a whisk or a cooking spoon will do, but it’ll take longer). Add the eggs and a dash of salt, the milk and the flour and the baking powder and keep whisking.

Peel the bananas, squash them with your fingers and add them to the mixture and stir some more with a spoon. Put the mixture in a baking tin lubricated with oil and bake in the oven for 1 hour at 180°C. (Meanwhile, you can let the kids lick the bowl, or you can do it yourself, of course!)

Leave your cake to cool down, then cut it into slices and enjoy!

  Ravani

150g semolina, 125g flour, 150 margarine, 600g sugar, 6 eggs, 125ml orange juice, 2tsp lemon juice, 2 tsp brandy, 4tsp baking powder, 1tsp vanilla sugar, salt

This is a very popular cake from Greece, not too difficult to do and enormously tasty and filling. Here’s how to do it: first of all, take the butter out of the fridge; it mustn’t be too hard when you put it into the mixture. Then put the flour, the semolina, the baking powder and a dash of salt into a bowl and stir it.

Separate the egg yolks and whites, put the egg whites into a small bowl and whip them with a hand mixer or a whisk. Put the yolks in a big bowl with the butter, 350g sugar and the vanilla sugar and whisk. Lubricate a big baking tin with oil.

Slowly add the semolina-flour mix and the egg whites to the butter and sugar in the big bowl. Then add the orange juice. Put the whole mixture into the baking tin and bake it in the oven for 45-50 minutes at 175°C. Meanwhile, prepare the syrup: put 250g sugar in a pot with 125ml water, bring it to boil, then add lemon juice and brandy and leave it to cool down.

When the cake is ready, pour the syrup over it and leave it until it’s cooled down, then cut it into squares. A great tea or coffee time treat!

  Kaiserschmarrn

4 eggs, 80g sugar, 200g flour, 60g butter, 200ml milk, 100g raisins, 1 dash lemon juice, salt, oil, 3-4 tsp strawberry jam (or any other flavour you prefer)

The Austrians are famous not only for their very varied cuisine in general, but for their sweet dishes in particular. Through the influence from the former Habsburg empire, Czech, Hungarian, Romanian and Yugoslavian sweets became part of the enormous repertoire of Austrian confectioners; and this is one of the most famous and delicious ones of them all: Kaiserschmarrn – which could be translated as ‘The Emperor’s scrambled pancakes’…

It’s a recipe you can do without an oven, because it’s fried in the pan! And in this case, since it’s not going to be baked in the oven, you can also halve the ingredients to get a dish for only 2-3 people. Strictly speaking, the procedure here isn’t actually baking, of course – but nevertheless, the outcome will be one of the best and most famous sweet dishes in the world!

First, separate the egg whites from the yolks, then whip the whites in a small bowl. In a big bowl, stir the egg yolks and the sugar, then add the flour, the milk, the butter, the lemon juice and a dash of salt. Then, carefully add the egg whites and the raisins, stirring with a spoon.

Put the mixture in a big pan with oil and fry like an ordinary pancake; when it’s golden brown and solid enough, turn it around with a spatula (or two, to make sure, one at the bottom and one on top) and fry it from the other side. When it’s done, tear it apart; serve topped with some more sugar and jam.

  Banana Sweet

500ml milk, 300g sugar, 100g flour, 4 bananas, 4-6tsp crushed almonds, 1 packet vanilla sugar

This is an exotic and extremely tasty recipe from Turkey; and, like Kaiserschmarrn, it’s done without using an oven! Put the sugar and the flour in a pot and add the milk, stir well and slowly bring to the boil. Let it simmer until it’s really thickened down (at least 10-12 minutes). Peel and slice the bananas.

Take the pot off the hub and add the banana slices; fill the sweet into 4-6 bowls and let it cool down. Then, serve garnished with the crushed almonds.

  Fried bananas

4 bananas, 4tsp sugar, 25g margarine, 100g apricot jam, 1tsp lemon juice, 1tsp sherry

Another exotic recipe made with bananas (they’re just endlessly useful and tasty!), this time from the Caribbean. And you don’t need an oven for this one, either!

Peel and halve the bananas, put them in a pan with margarine and top them with sugar. Fry them until they start to get golden brown. Meanwhile, for the syrup put the jam, the lemon juice and the sherry in a small pot and slowly bring to the boil, then simmer at a low temperature for a few minutes.

Pour the syrup over the bananas, heat up again for a moment, then serve – delicious!

  Sweet Rice Casserole

250g rice, 350ml milk, 4 eggs, 25g margarine, 75g sugar, 75g raisins, 1 dash lemon juice, 1tsp vanilla sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg

This one’s from the Southern States of the USA – where they sure know how to cook and bake! Cook the rice (round grain preferably) for 15-20 minutes; meanwhile, put all the other ingredients in a big bowl and whisk with a hand mixer or whisk.

When the rice is ready, add it to the mixture and stir well; put it into a lubricated baking tray and bake for 1 hour in the oven at 180°C. Easy but very effective, and also very filling!

  Barmbrack

500g flour, 300g raisins, 250g sugar, 150g butter, 1 egg, 200ml milk, 1 packet yeast powder, 1 teabag black tea, 3tsp cloves, nutmeg, cinnamon, salt

Finally, here’s something for advanced bakers: a classic sweet bread from Ireland, a favourite for Halloween, but it’s great all year round, of course. Thing is just: it’s a yeast cake – and yeast can be tricky.

Things have been much better since yeast powder has been available at every supermarket; the chances of your cake being successful are much higher now. Still, you’ll have to be careful with the temperature of the ingredients; they’ve all got to be at room temperature, which means you’ve got to take some of them out of the fridge well before embarking on your baking adventure – otherwise the dough just won’t rise…

Anyway, a barmbrack is well worth the extra effort and care. So, having taken the right amount of butter and milk out of the fridge, make a big mug of tea with the tea bag, pour it into a bowl and soak the raisins in it for 1 hour.

When the milk is warm enough, mix it with the yeast powder and 2tsp sugar and leave it for 10 minutes. In a big bowl, mix the flour, the sugar, the cloves, some nutmeg and cinnamon and a dash of salt and stir well with a spoon; add the egg, the butter and the yeast mixture and stir again, then knead with your hands for 5 minutes.

Dry the raisins on a few pieces of paper towel, then knead them into the dough. Cover the bowl with a tea towel and leave the dough in the unheated oven (where no sudden draught can harm it) for 45 minutes to rise. Then, put it into a lubricated baking tin and bake it for 35-40 minutes at 180°C. Your barmbrack should rise nicely, and your reward will be a genuine Irish classic!

  Happy baking and sweet-making, dear friends, and stay happy and healthy indoors!

Roberta’s Recipes: How about some baking? Many of us have been doing a lot of cooking during these weeks of lockdown; we’ve tried out new things and created our own recipes.

#Baking #Cooking #Easy Baking #Food #Fun #Hobby #Home #Lifestyle #Lockdown #Recipes #Stay Home #Sweets