#anyway. this poor little bakers daughter.

[hawnks]

A werewolf knight promised a bride in return for his unflinching loyalty and unmatched battle prowess.

His Jarl thinks the most beautiful, talented, and wellbred Lady of the island will suit nicely as his gift.

But the wolf has already made his choice -- he'd made it long before he ever went to war. Everything he did, every terrible, horrible, deadly thing, he did it for her.

And since he was promised a bride, well. Who can stop him? It's his due, after all.

[shallowseeker]

Yes, yes. We've talked about the futility of windmills and striving wind with regards to all hunters, workers, and soldiers.

But there are other things in this hotel that are SO CUTE.

Dean and Cas are very often twinned by their morals and values. You could say that they're very often tilting at the same "windmills." Struggling with many of the same things, albeit at different timelines.

There's also...flowers in the decor.

LOTS of flowers.

Prominent yellow flowers in the bedroom appear between them, symbolizing pesky, bubbling happiness between the two of them.

There's often this concept of "blooming" between Dean and Cas. Springtime. Hell, we can even point to Dean's dance number in s15, "Let's Misbehave," originally written for Irene Bordini.

(They say the Spring Means just one thing to little lovebirds // We're not above birds // Let's misbehave)

There's April Kelly, the reaper, and also the Leviathan blossom (that grows OUT of death). An association to Lily Sunder and her daughter May, born after spring, as Jack will be born in May.

Dean himself is like a valley of death, but ALSO a valley proper, with the capacity for growth and spring-green, and it is this that associates him to many of the Lily characters, like Lily Baker.

Anyhoo, this cute motel is mirroring the blossoming friendship. It's full of Netherlands motifs, including the windmills but also tulips and blooms. The low-lying land of the Netherlands is what makes tulips flourish there.

Later The Empty will "tiptoe through Cas's tulips" as it reads his mind (and his love).

As Dean is undergoing individuation, he too is blooming.

And wooden shoes.

There's an abundance of tulips flanking the bathroom, sprouting up alongside the Dean side, over near the couch. On what will become "the Cas side" of the domestic space... shoes.

Dean is trying not to feel things. Cas is trying not to feel things.

///

Anyway, when Cas asks for help, he gets in REEEEEALLY close again:

And Dean gets a little nervous again, shifts, slightly pouts his lips and then cracks a joke:

They've been so mean to each other. Hehe.

After all, Cas's immediate reaction to seeing Sam and Dean again was to lay into them about being failures and not worth the effort and rebellion he put into them, so Dean's cattiness is understandable here.

It's tense. Awkward.

They've been disagreeing with each other and telling each other how they've lost faith in one another and don't believe in each other's plans...which oddly is EXACTLY the sort of emotional honesty that will make their bond stronger.

They keep orbiting each other, walking around and around each other in circles, and moving into each other's spaces. Even without the dialogue, the body language is interesting.

Cas is trying to read him, to figure out the human rules of him not being allowed to move threateningly into Dean's space, but Dean being allowed to move into his ... plus Dean making off cultural references that involve HOLDING HANDS and sailing off cliffs.

Then brushing past him so closely, and what exactly ARE the rules for personal space? Also, we see the yellow flowers between them here.

Dean may be under the impression that Cas doesn't care about him that much. That he helped him on a moral whim and now he's stuck with him/them.

And they're very close to one another again. Dean is fishing for information. "I'm your strategical bait, huh? That's all?"

And Dean relents.

///

So anyway, the body language is legendary for a reason, but the flowers are such a nice backdrop. :DDD

Aside///

I love how Cas just marches in on the Cas and tries to be frank with everyone.

Poor Cas. Just a mere hundred or couple hundred years ago, this would've worked. He really COULD march in there and start talking angels and demons with some authority, might have even been able to tell them that he was an angel.

What we call the modern world is still so new. We as a species have believed in supernatural worlds for so much longer than we haven't.

And Dean just... can't help getting into Cas's personal space. I find that so cute about him. He establishes the norms of personal space and then he proceeds to fiddle with Cas's clothes. Meanwhile Cas is just like ????? wow human rules are so illogical.

*Dean fiddling*

Dean, honey. I promise you that if you'd handed Cas the badge, he would've grabbed it somewhat normally.

///

Dean *fiddling with his own badge and coat and steadfastly NOT looking at Cas's face*

*can't resist*

Aside/// I love so much that SPNwin poked fun at THIS in particular (as well as SPNwin's John making silly voices).

Sighting on main: Man with a nascent, burgeoning mega-crush tries to make rules about personal space and then winds up being even weirder about space than the person he was accusing of not adhering to normal human etiquette...

DEAN: *buttoning, buttoning, I know I'm taking a while to button this, pay it no mind. now imma fix your tie...*

[actually-a-girls-name]

Family

my second ficlet for @calaisreno may prompts!! a nice Christmas at Baker Street, Ms. Hudson POV, hope you enjoy!

also on ao3 if you want to drop a comment there :)

2,005 words - Prompt: Family (no shit Sherlock)

The living room was scintillating from every corner, ornamented with stuffed reindeers and Santa Claus figurines, and a magnificent tree was taking up quite a lot of space next to the chimney. It was their second Christmas since John had moved back to Baker Street with Rosie. The doctor was the one who insisted they would decorate particularly heavily. “For Rosie” he said, but Ms. Hudson saw he was enjoying it as much as the little girl. Sherlock had seen it too of course, so he didn’t argue. He was even the one who put the colorful fairy lights up, the ones they had back from their first Christmas together. She had caught John looking over fondly at his partner as he was trying to detangle the wires. Ms. Hudson remembered thinking they had probably shopped for those lights back then, since it was not in the flat furniture. She was sure they were an item now, even though they were yet to say anything about it. But the landlady was more than a landlady and she did know them good after all.

The guests arrived for 6 o’clock and the room was filled of chatter and laughter. It was the usual crowd: Molly Hooper, Greg Lestrade and even Mycroft was there! He had been bullied by John and Sherlock for over a month before giving in. Threats involving Rosie were made. In the end, it wasn’t really a surprise for Ms. Hudson that he caved in. Even if it wasn’t for the soft heart she knew he had under all these layers of expensive clothing and frigidity, the couple were legitimately scary. They were already before everything happened, but now that they weren’t wasting so much energy coming at each other, their connection was a dangerous weapon. Upon consideration, she was glad to have them on her side and feared the inevitable day they would join forces to mess with her.

The champagne was still flowing but the appetizers brought by Molly were long gone now. Rosie was channeling all the attention on her, dancing in the middle of the room in a cute sparkly purple dress. It was way past her bedtime but to everyone’s enjoyment the demon was still full of energy.

What a light this sweet little girl brought to their lives, Ms. Hudson thought. Oh, it had been hard on her: the death of her mother and her father doing the best he could that wasn’t quite enough. To his defense, the poor man had his fair share of grief to deal with. Still, it didn’t help that he had deprived his daughter of another pair of loving arms in the storm of it all. Ms. Hudson knew how John regretted his reaction toward Sherlock, so she kept those reflections to herself. During these times, there have been days of complete silence, which was about the scariest thing a young child could do. But then Rosie started crying again, and not only crying – thank God – but also babbling and squealing and laughing. She had a village of adoring people raising her now, and Ms. Hudson could only think of the joy she felt from being a part of it.

Martha never had any children of her own, too busy enjoying the high (and steam!) of her marriage at first, and then too busy trying to figure out a way out of the spiral down. She would probably never have wanted any with him anyway. He wasn’t the kind of man you could see being tender with children. She herself was not even sure she would be. She had always been pretty indifferent to these little screaming individuals. She found babies cute and wasn’t completely immune to their smiles (who was?) but she also didn’t find herself caring too much. She always felt clumsy on their company and could never figure out how to act around children. With Rosie she had learned. She loved the creature with all her heart, that helped.

They were tackling the cake by now, Rosie finally napping on the sofa after spending the entire diner running around and eating out of everyone’s plate. Ms. Hudson settled on observing Sherlock for a while. He had been incredibly appropriate and seemed at-ease all evening, even as the tiredness were visibly settling in. Maybe John’s hand occasionally brushing his thighs or settling behind the back of his chair had helped. Maybe the wine too: they were all such lightweight, she could probably outdrink them all. Not something to be particularly proud of, she thought then. “Must be the few glasses of whiskeys at the bridges sessions, nothing wrong with that.” Still, Sherlock had come a long way from the mess of a person he was when they first met. She drifted back to her memories as she watched with tenderness the man the self-labelled sociopath had become.

Martha was from a big family, the last one of six siblings. All her brothers and sisters had or were moving out when she was still little; she didn’t have time to form a strong connection with any of them. Her parents were nice but tired to their bones, she remembered the silence being an eminent part of her childhood. Friends she had a ton, but the one who mattered the most left early at her wedding. Everything changed after that, and moving to Florida cut the last remaining strings.

She was 34 when she settled in London, and she had felt lonely ever since. Martha Louise Hudson was a social one, but acquaintances stayed just that: acquaintances. It was at that time she really wished to have a family. There were a few men, but none of them felt right. Few men ever do when you’re an independent woman able to recognize her own value. And by God she was. Still, she longed for a meaningful connection. She did have a sister and a niece she visited sometimes, but the distance wasn’t making it easy. As she grew older and it was becoming increasingly sure she wasn’t going to have a child of her own, she always found herself wondering what a mother she would have been.

She immediately felt a weird pull when she met Sherlock, passed out in the street two blocks away from her flat: she felt a need to protect the boy, almost viscerally. So she took him home to fed him tea and biscuits. The discussion they had was one of the strangest she ever had at the time (strangest things had happened to her since then). As it turned out, he was the one who could protect her: her bastard of a husband had figured a way out of jail and was threatening to come get her. Sherlock promised he was not going to let it happen, and he didn’t. She became attached to this smart and arrogant junkie, who was just as lonely as she was, if not more.

She visited him in a rehab center a couple of times, that’s how she met Mycroft. She remembered quite clearly the way his glances were sending chills to her spine. Sherlock visited her a few times too, after he got out. Sometimes he only dropped off a stolen item from a crime scene he thought she might like, sometimes he would stay for tea and biscuits. He usually liked to narrate his cases to her: Ms. Hudson was a very good listener. She shouted, gasped, and laughed right on cue. Other times, less frequently, he was letting her talk about the neighborhood gossips and the new members of her bridge club. When her tenants moved out, she naturally offered the space to him and he accepted without hesitation. God knows where he had been living before! He would always refuse to talk about it.

It was well into the night and Greg and Molly had just left but the walls of 221B Baker Street seemed to be retaining their laughter. It was just the two of them now with Rosie asleep in John’s chair. “Well, the four of us really” she thought. They were seated in the living room, letting the weariness of the evening washing through them.

Ms. Hudson could not have guessed this was going to be what her Christmas would look like when she greeted John Watson on the entrance of her house, a bit more than 5 years ago. Maybe she had hoped for it a tiny bit. She thought John and Sherlock were perfect for each other since the first glance she casted at the doctor. Gosh, it has been a long time coming! And nothing was perfect, nothing ever is, but this was the closest they might ever get to a perfect night. Martha sighted.

She avoided thinking about the years when Sherlock was dead, and she knew John was doing the same. They had a silent agreement not to talk about it either. But it didn’t mean she had forgotten. On the contrary, she remembered very distinctly the silence that had fallen on Baker Street like a curse. She used to put the TV at full volume all day long, without getting herself to actually watch it. Ms. Hudson hushed those memories away, frowning. John was singing a soft lullaby to Rosie who had just woken up crying.

The first Christmas after John had moved back in with his daughter, they had spent the day in cardboard boxes. John and Sherlock had gone out on a Christmas dinner at Molly’s while she had stayed minding for little Rosie. Sherlock had been home early and visibly upset. He didn’t answer when she asked him what was wrong. That night John came back late and drunk, and she had trouble falling back asleep after that. They still had a lot to sort out at that time. But wasn’t it what it’s all about? Ups and downs. She realized now: that was the proper of families. And she had never been so glad to have found one.

“What are you smiling for, Ms. H?” Sherlock asked, scanning her face.

“Nothing my boys, just happy to have you here.”

“Where else would we ever want to be?” John answered, grinning.

[strvlveera]

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥.

pairing: royalty!oikawa x afab!reader

genre: royal au, angst w/happy ending, fluff

w/c: 10.7k (help me)

warnings: swearing (lmk if there should be more !)

synopsis: sick and tired of the looming castle walls, tooru decides to adventure outwards. somewhere he wasn't allowed to go. dressed as a young 'peasant' boy tooru comes across the delicious smell of fresh baked bread. considering he was starving he marched right in demanding a loaf of bread, forgetting he wasn't in normal attire. you, the daughter of the baker, found him a headache but also amusing. I mean what source of entertainment can you get when you're so poor?

"I am your prince!"

"...then why are you dressed like that?"

(lowercase intended)

slightly based on 'ceilings' by lizzy mcalpine

a/n: this isn't proofread so there may be careless mistakes! the synopsis doesn't comprehend how much angst there will be... I made this fic as an excuse to not sleep...got this idea at 2 am so T_T honestly since hq is coming back(?) soon I just want my home boy back...

I also apologise for not getting this done sooner i don't know why it took me so long.. anyways enjoy!

btw can you spot a manwha reference too?

NOT PROOF READ!

taglist: @tooruchiiscribs @qualitygiantshoepsychic @sillykawa @rukia-uchiha-98 @softcd @misfit-megumi @suzizanne

"sit here and reminisce about your actions. I have a lot of things to do today," the king calmly demanded tooru as he whined and grumbled, dragging him by the arm to his room.

"I just wanted to play, you're always so busy and nee-san is always holding tea parties with her friends!" tooru exclaimed, crossing arms.

"you'll understand in the future. when you’re king, you'll always be busy."

"what if I don't want to be king? I want to be a knight! I want to be free and keep my friends safe, as well as you and nee-san," tooru proudly said to his father, as if convincing him that taking the throne was what he wasn't destined for.

the king mockingly laughed, not taking tooru's words seriously.

"keep an eye on him, don't let him leave this room until I come back," stated the king to the guard outside who gave a quick nod.

"of course, your highness."

"i'll be off then tooru, behave."

with the creak of the closing door tooru sprawled his arms across the bed as he flumped down, a sour look on his face staring into the ceiling.

"behave tooru! oh, look at me being too busy being a king that I don't even have time for my son!" mocks tooru, reminiscing about his father's stern words rather than his own actions.

i mean, it wasn't his fault that he 'accidentally' hit his great-grandfather's statue. it wasn’t as if he was trying to catch anyone's attention. it wasn't his fault he was alone most of the day, except when the royal tutor came. it wasn’t his fault that the dreams of becoming a knight got disregarded as soon as he even said the word 'knight', as if it wasn’t an option.

tooru had to practically beg his father for swordsmanship lessons, even though he was so young, desperately clinging to his dream of becoming a knight. why? to be free from his fate, his destiny and yet his father still said no.

"king this, king that, why not knight this, knight that?" questioned tooru, still huffing from his father's words.

he doesn't even want to be king anyway. the responsibility of it seemed trapping as if he'd be a bird in a cage with everyone watching his every move.

silently staring at the ceiling with a blank face, tooru decides on an escape plan. except this time he'll escape to the city. the place where his father told him to never go.

"you'll catch a deadly disease! how will you train to be a knight?"

the memory passed through his mind.

"how am I supposed to be a knight anyway whenever I'm always confined in this boring palace?" tooru thought out loud.

knights are daring and dashing and most importantly loved by all. if tooru wanted to be a knight, he'd have to be a little adventurous and brave.

"if mother was here she'd let me go," says tooru, quietly reassuring himself that his decision was beneficial and ethical.

finding old clothes from the back of his wardrobe, he tried his best to make himself an unroyal attire. with a bit of tearing in certain parts tooru proudly stood in front of his mirror with his disguise, ready for operation: escape to town.

"soo original tooru.."

..·:*¨�� ♚ ༻¨*:·.

tooru's ears perked up to the sound of the bustling streets of the city, his eyes lighting up with excitement as crowds of people strolled up and down the street. some frantically buying groceries from the local market, some sitting outside having a beverage of choice whilst talking with the person opposite, laughing at each other's comments.

this is way more fun than the palace thought tooru, as he gazed around.

alas, with the growl of his stomach, tooru then realised how he barely had any food that day as he was having too much fun causing chaos at the palace.

"i should've brought money for food, why am i so dumb?!," tooru whines, whilst ruffling his hair out of frustration.

the feeling of his empty stomach made tooru more impatient until he smelt a whiff of something delicious. following the scent like a delirious zombie, tooru came to a halt when he came across a bakery. as he opened the door a ding came from a bell and his eyes landed upon a girl, which he assumed to be his age, putting some sort of pastry in an oven until she realised the presence of tooru and quickly wiped her floury hands, rushing towards him.

"hello, sir, welcome to shokupan. unfortunately, you're visiting during our closing hours, would you like to leave in an order for tomorrow?" she asks with a click of a pen, smiling at tooru as he processes what she just asked.

"i need that loaf of bread," demanded tooru pointing to the freshly baked milk bread on the counter, ignoring the girl’s question.

following tooru's finger, the girl realised what he was asking for and nervously chuckled.

"o-oh! i'm sorry but that isn't to be bought by anyone except the man that ordered it earlier. may i ask again if you want to order anything for tomorrow?" she asks again.

by now tooru's patience was wearing thin. with an awful combination of an empty stomach and tired legs, he started to grow irritated but so were you. yes, you. the baker's daughter.

with your father off for deliveries, you had to look after the bakery; taking orders everyday, making the dough and baking most of the bread yourself. with a job like this, it can get very tiring easily. especially with ignorant customers but that was rare. until today, where you had the 'fortunate' opportunity to stumble across a hungry and grumpy tooru.

"i don't want or need anything for tomorrow. what i need is that bread - so would you just give it to me?" demanded tooru once again.

you sighed, putting a hand to your forehead being physically and mentally exhausted from the hard work and now him.

"as i've said before, sir, i can't just give you a loaf of bread. if you don't want to order anything i'll have to ask you to leave so that i can close up the bakery," and with that you began to head back to the kitchen.

"you don't understand, i need that bread now! i'm dying of hunger, don't you pity me?" pleaded tooru with furrowed eyebrows, desperate for a bite of that delicious looking bread.

"look, there are many people who wander in and out of the bakery looking for pastries but unfortunately i can't give you it without permission from my boss. it's just how business runs around here," you shrugged, used to the situation.

normally, you'd give him a loaf of free bread, however word got out that you gave out free bread to those who couldn't afford it and an upburst happened causing the bakery to be shut down for a whole week. your father was certainly not happy about what happened but was glad that you were charitable and sympathetic to the people.

of course tooru had no idea this happened, he never read the newspapers anyway as they were too boring to him. he'd rather run around the palace causing chaos.

with tooru in desperate need of food he decided to play his trump card.

he cleared his throat and proudly stated, "although i may not look like it, i am actually prince tooru of the oikawa family, ruler of this city and province. as of now i may not look like the part, because i am on a very special mission, but i can reassure you that this is your dear prince."

with a small hair flip and a smug smile tooru awaited an apology but instead found you laughing hysterically like a hyena.

offended, tooru immediately questions, "w-what's wrong? you should be cowering before me and asking for my forgiveness, why are you laughing like a maniac?"

obviously you couldn't reply, still holding your stomach as you try to catch your breath from laughing too much.

"b-because…." you began but immediately started laughing again.

tooru scoffed, flabbergasted at your behaviour and disrespect to him as a royal. you were just a commoner and he was royalty, how dare you mock him like this?

"i don't know why you think this is hilarious but i am not lying. i am your prince!" proclaimed tooru, tired of your actions.

calming yourself down with a shaky breath out, you look at (a very annoyed) tooru up and down.

"if you really are the prince, which is very unlikely considering that this is the west side of the city, then why are you dressed like that?" you questioned, suspicious of his manner and clothes.

confused, tooru stops glaring at you and begins to analyse his outfit and quickly realises what you meant.

"oh…."

you chuckle in disbelief and maybe even pity, thinking he's gone mad already as a teenager.

"yeah, oh."

embarrassingly, tooru took off the smug look off his face and cleared his throat.

"you're not doing a very good job at convincing me prince tooru," you mocked, cheekily smiling at him.

"maybe i need more time to enhance my skills," tooru replies with an eye roll.

what a pity you thought, he was really entertaining. you wondered if he did acting as a job.

“well, i guess this is the part where i go,” tooru awkwardly began as he slowly turned to walk out the door, mostly out of embarrassment and the need to get home. his father would be furious if he found him dressed like this.

"wait just a second," you frantically said, trying to catch up with him, after grabbing something from the counter.

he anxiously turns, not wanting to be humiliated even more. however, to his delight you handed him a paper bag filled with a loaf of milk bread. you could immediately see how his demeanour changed and how his eyes lit up, almost as if there were stars in them.

"c-can i really have this?" asked tooru, with saliva already threatening to drip from his mouth.

"of course, i'm not that cruel. plus, i saw you eyeing up the milk bread from earlier. you looked like you really couldn't live without it. i’ll just make another batch for the old man," you replied with a small smile, mentally reminding yourself to not tell your father about this. who knows what would happen.

relief spread across tooru's face.

"thank you…?"

"ah - i'm y/n."

"thank you y/n," tooru replies with a wide smile, grateful for the milk bread.

with a bright smile, you waved goodbye to tooru as the bell of the door rang once again, indicating he was leaving to your dismay.

"come back soon!" you called out to tooru, secretly wishing to see him again tomorrow.

happily chewing on the milk bread, tooru smiled to himself filled with content, glad of the encounter and his courage to adventure off.

his father certainly wouldn't be pleased if he found out.

..·:*¨༺ ♚ ༻¨*:·.

it was the following day and you couldn't help but secretly wait for a certain someone to come through the door. most of your customers were regulars so it was usually the same people saying the same things that you already knew about even when you'd make conversation asking,"anything new happen?" and with them replying with,"it's always the same old y/n."

it was pretty boring in the west end, except for all the crime that's been lurking around. the ring of the bell came and you turned around, only to be met by the same boy from yesterday. you were ecstatic to see the brown haired boy again. swiftly walking over to him you greet him with another milk bread you made just for him.

"well if it isn't the prince tooru, gracing me with his presence again," you sarcastically say, with a little courtesy.

it wasn't until you got a proper look at him that you realised how he was panting, trying to catch his breath and the plum bruise on his face.

tooru saw how fast your reaction to the bruise was, as your eyes started to fill with worry and concern. with furrowed eyebrows you hesitantly touched his face and he backed away.

"i'm so sorry tooru I didn't mean to-"

"no-no it's fine y/n don't worry, I don't know why I backed up in the first place," he reassuringly said.

although, in reality he backed away because he got nervous when you touched him. it felt comforting, which was a foreign emotion to tooru ever since his mother passed away.

"are you okay? how'd you get the bruise? did something happen?" you asked, bombarding him with questions, wondering how he ended up like this.

tooru found it really heart-warming how you only knew him for less than twenty-four hours and yet you showed so much concern for him. most of the maids in the palace only cared about his safety so that they wouldn't get fired by the king. to have someone genuinely worry about him made him feel as if he was valued as a human being, instead of "the king's son" or "the heir to the throne".

he actually got the bruise by accidently bumping into a gang that didn't look very pleased with him. he ran as fast as he could, screaming his lungs out.

"not very knightly of you tooru," he thought.

he made sure to not tell you about this.

he softly smiled at you as he said, "nothing, don't worry about it,"

not wanting to pry anymore, you let it go although you were still sceptical about the ordeal.

"well, if you say so. how about we enjoy the milk bread i prepared for you? it's a slow day today so we can sit down and have a chat outside," you insisted, leading tooru outside.

..·:*¨༺ ♚ ༻¨*:·.

throughout the next few months you both continued to meet each other. with tooru sneaking out the palace more often and you already having freshly baked milk bread just for him. your father would get suspicious, catching you smiling to yourself at random times of the day whenever he was at the bakery but brushed it off as he was glad to see you happy rather than tired from all the work he gave you.

with your father starting to help more at the bakery than doing deliveries, you decided to pick a new meetup spot with tooru so that you two could talk with as much freedom as possible. without your father glaring at tooru as he did with his first encounter with him.

you showed him your hidden gem, a place where you would run to when the world would overwhelm you. your safe haven. urging tooru to go in first, his eyes were blessed with a charming peaceful meadow, secluded from society which was a good thing, as its beauty was preserved for you to see and now tooru. surprisingly you haven't even shown your father this heaven but you willingly led tooru here.

there was something about this milk bread obsessed boy that made you feel as if you could trust him. you've had male friends before but they would always tease you that you were a one trick pony as you could only bake but barely cook to save your life.

“ugh! I keep burning the bacon….” you grumbled, looking over to the pile of burnt bacon on the counter.

"just stick to baking y/n, it's the only thing you're good at," matsukawa slyly said, with the classic smirk of his which resulted in a loud smack to his head. he deserved it.

they never took you seriously. until tooru came along and changed your perspective. yes, he would be very arrogant at some points but alas that was just how he was and without it he wouldn't be as charming. it also brought out a new side of you, where you would make snarky remarks to him which would end in the both of you hugging your stomachs from laughing or tooru pouting.

relaxing down on a light patch of grass, you began talking about the future, a common topic in your conversations to tooru's dismay but it ended up helping him release his bottled up problems.

"i feel bad," you began, in a soft tone.

"why? you've done nothing except give me happiness," he questioned, confused by your sudden statement.

flustered by the choice of words that he used, you averted your eyes. clearing your throat you continued,”i always complain about my life and talk about my problems and yet you never get the chance to talk sometimes, when we talk about the future or anything serious in general.”

realising how insensitive you sound, your eyes widen and turn to tooru to apologise.

“i didn’t mean that-i mean I did but not in that context. of course you don’t have to talk about touchy subjects in your life if you don’t want to,” you paused for a second, trying not to panic and calmly collect your thoughts.

“I guess what i'm trying to say is, you can talk to me. you can talk about anything, other than your love for the milk bread i give you,” that earned a chuckle from tooru.

You grin, pleased that you received a positive reaction from him.

“i know we’ve only been friends for quite a while and i whole-heartedly understand if you feel a bit uncomfortable with all of this. just know I’ll always be here tooru,” you concluded, slightly embarrassed by what you said.

"aww….y/n, you care so much about me huh?" teased tooru, although he secretly soaked up all your words.

you sulked, embarrassed at your actions and mostly how tooru reacted to what you said but also not very surprised by his antics. tooru was busy laughing at your demeanour.

"sorry y/n, i didn't want to ruin the moment by laughing but i am really touched I swear!" tooru explained.

"i poured my heart and soul into that and you're here making fun of me!" you grumbled, purposely exaggerating your words so that he'd apologise soon.

tooru's laugh rang in your ears and he quickly apologised for teasing you.

"don't worry y/n, i listened very carefully. you have no idea how much I appreciate you."

just as you were about to say "thank you", tooru continued.

"mostly because of the milk bread you bake for me but don't worry i also appreciate the company just not as much as the bread," he cheekily said, earning a smack in the back of his head from you.

"ouch! what was that for?" he whined.

"i’m not give you milk bread anymore," you replied with a stone face.

tooru gasped and started pleading for your mercy, trying to flatter you with compliments as you got up from the dented grass and started walking away from him.

"y/n you're an angel, you know that right?"

"yes tooru i know i am. now stop clinging onto my cardigan or else I'll feed you raw dough instead."

you only gave into his pleas when he started bowing down to you in the middle of the street when you were trying to ignore him.

"almighty y/n, i am a sinful man begging for your forgiveness. please give me a loaf of milk bread."

"tooru people are starting to look, please get up," you hurryingly pleaded.

he gave you one last glance and in return you gave him a dirty look, already fed up with his act.

"almighty y/n, please listen to my prayer-"

"fine, fine! i'll give you free milk bread again…"

"oh thank you! almighty-"

"i'm seriously going to punch you."

--- ⁠✧

the day ended with tooru beaming with happiness as he ate his milk bread, and you sat across from him once again with your hand resting against your chin gazing upon his figure. you never understood why your milk bread was so special to him but you were glad that you could make him happy in some sort of way.

"maybe I should start charging you, we might just go bankrupt from all the free bread we've given you," you teased, already knowing what he'd say.

"well it isn't my fault that they taste so good!" tooru whined.

you giggled and went back to staring at him, appreciating his beauty. the way his smooth skin glistened against the withering glows of the sun, the way his lips parted to take a bite of the bread, the way his brown eyes would melt into golden rays as the sunlight hit his face. how on earth could this boy in front of you be a commoner when his looks alone could help him get a job easily?

"you know you're really pretty tooru, even when you have a lot of crumbs on your face," you randomly said as you focused on specific parts of his face.

tooru almost choked on the milk bread, surprised at your sudden statement.

"of course i'm pretty. i am a prince after all," he nervously chuckled trying to cover up his flustered expression.

"are you still acting as if you're a prince?" you questioned, amused that he’s still keeping up the act.

with a smug face, tooru replied,"when the time comes and you see that i am a prince, you will be so shocked and i'd laugh right in your face."

you rolled your eyes as you thought,"yeah right. as if a prince would be sitting right in front me, stuffing his face with the milk bread that i baked. tooru is seriously unbelievable."

it wasn't until a year later that it became believable. specifically, on his eighteenth birthday.

..·:*¨༺ ♚ ༻¨*:·.

"be careful with those plates!"

"which colour would you like your highness? celeste or baby blue?"

"would you like chocolate or vanilla frosting on the cake, your highness?"

the palace was clearly bustling with noise and excitement. why? because it’s tooru’s special eighteenth birthday tomorrow.

tooru hadn't realised it until a while ago but his heart started to soften more and more at every encounter you two had.

maybe it was because of the countless amounts of milk bread you would prepare for him which made tooru question if you were making it with the intent of seeing him (probably not). sure, all the chefs and maids in the palace prepared the most luxurious food for him but it just felt the same with every meal but it was somehow different with you.

maybe it was because of the uplifting conversations you would have, where you both could voice your thoughts and opinions on a variety of subjects with no worries of being judged. tooru swore at himself, wondering what he'd gotten himself into and yet he still consciously ventured further, wanting to learn more about you, other than you being a baker's daughter. you didn't know his true identity and yet you were so thoughtful towards him.

although, it felt selfish as he couldn't truthfully tell you his identity, he continued to pursue a growing friendship whilst walking home with a guilty heart each time he saw you. he was addicted. now that he was turning eighteen, tooru couldn’t hide it any longer. he had to tell you, one way or another. before it was too late and before he’d have to go back to the life he had without you. a boring, uneventful life.

--- ⁠✧

“why didn't i sleep early last night?” you questioned yourself, yawning for what felt like the hundredth time.

honestly, you stayed up last night because you knew it was tooru's birthday tomorrow and you were crocheting a scarf for the first time, even though it was the middle of summer. you couldn’t just bring him to the meadow and eat ice cream and milk bread all day like all the other years you spent celebrating his birthday. no, it had to be something different, something that no one else could give him and something that you've never done before especially since he was now getting to the age of marriage.

you were in the middle of putting the classic milk bread that you’d make for tooru in the oven when you heard the ring of the doorbell as it opened. you didn’t recognise the person making his way towards you but he looked oddly familiar.

with another yawn you groggily said,”hello welcome to shokupan, what can i get for you?”

“uh- y/n?” he spoke, as if he was confused.

you lazily smiled and looked up to the man, “yup that’s me, what can i-,” it was only then that you realised that this stranger knew your name and only then you realised who exactly it was.

your tired eyes quickly shot open, as if you got electrocuted. it was tooru, but he was dressed so magnificently. a bright, shining suit adorned his figure; gold shoulder pads showing off his broad shoulders; perfectly combed hair that would usually be messy and unkempt.

"t-tooru?" you whispered, wondering if you were still dreaming. was this really your tooru?

he chuckled,"yes n/n, it's really me," whilst sarcastically posing for you. however, you couldn't respond. you were speechless.

"y/n? are you okay?" tooru asked, concerned but also amused at your unresponsive state.

as tooru's words went in one ear and out the other you got out of your tranced state and started firing questions at tooru, "why are you dressed like that? where'd you get the money? did you loan the money? tooru you can't use all your savings on a suit, what about food?"

tooru couldn't contain his laughter any longer and bursted out laughing.

"what's so funny about spending all your money on something you don't even need?!" you exclaimed, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to make sense of tooru's actions.

as tooru's laugh died down, he gazed at you with a smug smile.

"i told you before that one day i'd show you that i'm a prince and that you'd never believe me. so here i am y/n, prince tooru of the oikawa family, inviting you to attend a ball tomorrow to celebrate my birthday," he gracefully bowed down whilst holding out an envelope towards you which you hesitantly took from him.

carefully, you observed the envelope, wondering if tooru was actually a prince or if he was just playing one of his silly games on you again. you knew your answer as soon as you flipt the envelope to shockingly fix your eyes on the royal seal, a four leaf clover crest. anybody could recognise as the city was adorned with the symbol. in disbelief, you lifted your head to tooru with wide eyes.

“you…” you started, trying to comprehend everything with your already jumbled mind.

“i’m?” tooru replied, anxious to see your reaction.

“you’re a prince,” you whispered, not believing your own words.

slowly, the cogs were starting to work in your brain, the pieces of the puzzle were connecting. why haven't you noticed? tooru always implied it even in your first encounter. there were many other reasons too on why he’d be a prince; he always had to leave early or he was late; the amount of times you’ve patched him up without you knowing that it was because of his swordsmanship lessons last year; the way he was able to read sophisticated words and write with very neat handwriting, which commoners couldn't do simply because they didn't have the money for the education; the way he never showed you where he lived or where he was from; the way he never talked about himself during your conversations. it all made sense and yet you were too dense to even realise it. you were angry and disappointed with yourself.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you questioned, wondering if he thought of you as a person who couldn't be trusted.

“well, i guess i just…” he paused and took a breath in.

“i was scared, y/n. maybe even terrified, that you wouldn't want to talk to me anymore or that you’d hate me, and i completely understand if you do now because i just basically lied to you throughout our whole friendship which is so stupid and idiotic of me and i’m so, so sorry y/n. i cherish you so much and i don't want to lose you, so please don't ever think that i never trusted you because i do, wholeheartedly.”

tooru finished and waited for you to talk or say anything, but you just stared at him in disbelief.

"y/n, please say something," tooru pleaded, his fist tightening against his chest as he grew more anxious.

"does your father know?" you asked.

"what? of course not he'd go crazy if he did-"

"oh my god tooru, you're unbelievable," you muttered, with your fingers pressing on your temple.

"what? y/n i just told you why i didn't want to reveal my identity, you know my father would go crazy if he found out i was sneaking away," tooru reasoned, trying to calm down the situation by reaching out for your hand but you slapped it away, still not comprehending the situation.

"yes tooru, and i understand that, if you weren't a prince. this completely changes everything, you know that right? what if someone saw us and reported it to your father? you'd be in great trouble and don't even get me started on how i'd probably be the talk of the city. a laughing stock. i mean, a commoner being friends with a prince? ha! how ridiculous," you rambled, looking away and staring down at your feet.

"y/n, look at me," tooru softly asked, gently lifting your chin up so you could meet his eyes. your breath hitched as he stared right at you, as if he could read your every thought.

"it doesn't matter if i'm a prince or if you're a commoner. even if my father finds out, I won't let any harm come to you. i'll do everything in my power to make sure you're safe."

"tooru-"

"i'm not done. just because you're a 'commoner' doesn't mean you aren’t worth anything less. you're y/n, my y/n and that's all that matters. i don't care about titles. fuck being a prince, it doesn't matter as long as i'm with you. as long as you're here."

you both became silent as tooru awaited a response and you were still processing what he just confessed to you. tooru sighed and let go of you, turning away and hiding his face from you, embarrassed at himself.

"tooru," you started, still finding the right words to say to him.

"if i have to be honest, i'm disappointed not only in you but for myself. it feels as if you just used me as a way to escape from your own life. i really, really enjoy your company tooru and you made my life so much more exciting and enjoyable, and even thinking about what we’d have in plan to do helped me get out of bed in the morning but now, i do not know what to think anymore. not only that, but the fact that you’ve hinted at it all this time and yet i was too dumb to even realise it. was this all a joke to you?" you questioned, your chest tightening at your own words, hoping he’d contradict with you.

“y/n…none of this was ever a joke and i can’t even truly express my gratitude to your very own existence with just simple minded words. from our first encounter to even now, the only person i’ve wanted to see was you. you’ve never once left my mind,” his eyes softened before his mouth came to a fine line, you could physically see his lips quiver as he awaited your response.

you finally let go of the breath you’ve unconsciously been holding and came face to face with the boy who made you feel an array of emotions that you couldn’t comprehend and simply gave him a gentle hug, with your head resting on his chest hearing his quickened heartbeat drumming in your ear.

with an awkward smile you looked up to him,”you really are scared huh?”

“god y/n, you have no idea how many times i was planning on telling you, but i would just end up getting lost in the moment and keep putting it off, until now, i really thought i screwed things up,” tooru frantically explained, letting out a sigh of relief.

although, to his horror you pierced his ears, saying, "you kind of did."

the atmosphere shifted to a chilling silence, with tooru’s bug eyed expression processing the words that you just announced and you fidgeting nervously with your hands.

“what?” tooru meekly asked, needing affirmation.

”look tooru, even if we remain as friends and keep meeting up, we’ll never go back to normal. you have to understand that. even if titles don't matter to you, they matter to everyone else. in their eyes, i’ll always be a ‘lowly’ commoner and you will always be a prince, hell maybe even king!”

“don’t you dare say that about me, i will never be king nor will i ever want to,” tooru defended, slightly raising his voice over the sensitive subject but that didn’t stop you from continuing.

“come to terms with reality tooru, this isn’t some fairy tale where i randomly get gifted a fairy godmother for christ sake. sure, it was okay when you were younger but now, really? you’re turning eighteen tomorrow, you can’t just keep skipping out on your duties as a prince,” you continued, pleading with him to see your point of view.

tooru scoffed, ”what do you know about being a prince? you’d never understand how shit i felt every time i get told off for every little mistake i made and how i know everyone secretly wished my mother survived instead of me.”

you stood still with a withering expression, your mouth parted and heart clenched with tears pricking your eyes. he never talked about this before.

“tooru, i didn’t know-”

“i was suffocating in there y/n, and you were the only one that made me feel like i wasn’t drowning with responsibilities and yet now i’m getting reminded of it again by the only person i could rely on,” he painfully expressed, solemnly looking at you, catching your watered eyes.

alas you stood your ground,

“well, as the person that you can rely on, i'm only telling you this for your own sake tooru, and yes i’m not a prince and i’m sure as hell not educated enough to understand what a prince does. however, i do know that you’ll have to get married soon now that you’re turning eighteen and i can’t keep distracting you tooru and you can’t keep running away. you’re going to have many people wanting to speak with you and important meetings to attend and you won’t have time to see me. we both know that,” your heart breaks at your own words.

tooru stood still with a pained expression. he couldn't argue with you, knowing that everything you said was true.

“wake up tooru. we aren’t fifteen anymore.”

silently, tooru sets down a wrapped box on an empty table and walks to the door without a word. all you could do was watch his doleful figure. before he stepped out into the street he stared at you without his warm brown eyes with a disappointed smile and said, ”you’re still invited you know? i already booked a carriage for you, so please come.”

The ring of the doorbell came at last, indicating his presence was gone and with that you burst out in tears with you crouching down against the counter recalling the argument between you two. were you too harsh? did you even consider tooru’s side? were you being insensitive? all these questions left your mind swirling like a spinning wheel to the point where you just laid lifeless with stinging eyes from all the salty tears.

finally finding the strength to get up, you dust yourself off the floor and spotted the clean and elegant box tooru left for you. carefully, you raised the lid upwards and you gasped surprised. sitting in the box before you was the most luxurious dress you’ve ever laid your eyes upon. sophisticated patterns adorned the purple gown with numerous delicate jewels stitched on, where if one was sold you’d no longer be a baker but instead living more comfortably.

“i’ve never seen a gown this shade before,” you astonishingly admitted, surveying the gown in your hand gently touching the rich fabric. unbeknownst to you the shade was specifically tyrian purple, a shade only the royal family wore.

peering inside you see a little rectangle note. you delicately placed the gown down on the table and opened the note.

“you’re royalty too.”

slightly grinning at the sentence you let out a light hearted sigh, letting it convince your tender heart.

“i guess i’ll be going to a ball tomorrow.”

..·:*¨༺ ♚ ༻¨*:·.

it was the day that everyone anticipated for and yet tooru wasn’t excited at all. he lost sight of all hope as of yesterday, after the argument he had with you. even his best friend iwaizumi hajime tried comforting him, in his own unique way.

“oi, it’s your own birthday try to lighten up. you look like a rotting zombie,” he pointed out.

tooru gave iwaizumi a sour look at him and miserably said, ”she isn't coming so what’s the point?”

“she? oh, you mean y/n?” iwaizumi asked, tooru gave a small nod.

“she’ll have to come, you prepared a gown and a carriage for her. how could she refuse? won’t most girls like that?”

“maybe the fact that i screwed everything over plays a major part,” tooru explained.

iwaizumi gave a puzzled look to tooru, clearly not informed of the events that happened yesterday morning. with a heavy sigh, tooru began to catch up with iwa on the unfortunate argument that occurred.

“oh i see now.”

“yeah, you’d think she’d still come?”

“after what you did? no way. i reckon it’ll take a miracle for her to attend,” iwaizumi blatantly replied, making tooru hopeless as he let out another heavy sigh with a blank stare at the floor.

“but, you’ll never know tooru. miracles can happen,” with that iwaizumi stood up from the cold cobblestone step and gave tooru a pat in the back, his steps echoing behind tooru as he continued to remain alone with his thoughts.

don’t lose hope, he thought.

it was definitely easier said than done.

--- ⁠✧

thankfully, you weren’t alone while you were getting dolled up. your trusted friend yachi was here to help. you were fortunate enough for her to stumble upon your bakery as a middle class girl visiting the city and you both instantly connected, although you both barely saw each other as she lived outside the city but you both kept in contact with letters. as of now you both were struggling on putting on the corset.

“y/n you have to breathe in just a little bit more so i can tighten the corset fully!” yachi exclaimed, while tugging the strings to the best of her ability.

“i know yachi i’m trying my hardest!” you cried out, in pain from holding your breath in for so long.

“and…done!” yachi cheered, clapping her hands.

“how can girls wear these things everyday? i’m about to pass out,” you said, exhausted already trying to reach for a chair.

“wait y/n we aren’t done yet, you have to put the petticoat on and then the actual gown,” yachi explained, encouraging you to keep standing.

with a groan you got up and yachi assembled the gown with a blink of an eye.

“oh my god y/n you look so pretty!” yachi praised, admiring you with stars in her eyes.

you bashfully smiled at her and asked,”you really think so?”

“you’ve always been pretty y/n, oh i’ve got something for you,” she said, going into her purse to fetch an object of some sort.

“what is it?” you aksed, curious of what she prepared.

yachi hid the object with both her hands behind her back sneakily and began by saying,”well, in the letter you said that you had been given a purple gown…”

“so..?” you questioned, urging her to continue.

“so i thought i’d glamour you even more,” she explained before showing you a white sapphire necklace with a wide smile. you stared at it, mesmerised by the sheer shine it gave.

“what do you think?” yachi asked, lifting up the necklace.

“i-it’s gorgeous yachi. are you sure i’m allowed to wear it? where did you get it in the first place?” you said in disbelief while yachi laughed at you with your gaze transfixed on the necklace.

“of course you can wear it, that’s the whole reason why i brought it anyway and don’t worry about where i got it from, just be excited to wear it,” she said with a mischievous giggle that worried you, and before you could even reject her offer she was already putting it on you.

thinking you were finished you went to sit down but to your dismay yachi was in front of you holding hair pins and a comb with an ecstatic expression.

“we’re only getting started y/n!”

you nervously gulped, getting ready for the amount of pain you were about to go through.

--- ⁠✧

chatter filled the ballroom as it continued to fill up with hundreds of guests from around the nation. tooru was trying his best to answer all the questions from all of the women surrounding him in a polite manner. although, they all were obviously there for two main reasons: status and power, as they wave their fans at him with a leering expression. however, he was solely looking for a certain someone to walk through the grand doors and for a certain someone to apologise to.

“do you have someone already in mind prince tooru?” one of the ladies asked which made the rest of them quiet, anticipating tooru’s answer.

he knew he couldn’t say yes without upsetting them all and causing a scene so he chuckled and declared, ”no, i don’t. not yet,” which caused them to erupt in ‘oohs’ and giggles, clearly glad with tooru’s response and the chance they all had to court him. although he knew in his mind that he definitely had someone he wanted to court himself.

unfortunately, that certain someone was running late. the carriage was already patiently waiting outside the bakery when you were trying to find the invitation tooru gave you yesterday but you somehow lost it. if it wasn’t for yachi’s help you probably wouldn’t have made it out the front door.

“have fun y/n! don’t forget to say yes when the prince asks for your hand in marriage!” yachi shouted to you in a cheery tone.

“oh be quiet yachi,” you jokingly said, your face heating up at her joke, embarrassed.

“i’m so sorry i’m late, i just couldn’t seem to find the invitation,” you explained to the coachman who gave you a small nod whilst helping you into the carriage.

you’ve never been in a carriage before but you’ve seen many travel back and forth from the palace at the city centre. you’ve always been in awe of them and dreamt of being in one someday and here you are now, admiring it in all its beauty. in contrast to the outside it was much smaller than you’d imagine but the seats were very comfortable for your already sore feet as they weren’t used to high-heeled shoes you were wearing.

i wonder what tooru would think.

--- ⁠✧

it was getting further into the night and there was still no sight of you. tooru looked over to iwaizumi who was trying to communicate to tooru.

“is she here yet?” mouthed iwaizumi, as he stared at tooru still being bombarded with women.

tooru gave him a frown and shook his head. were you ever going to show up?

it was time for the first dance as the string orchestra began playing a waltz for the guests and tooru to dance to. he immediately had a line of ladies encouraging him to dance with them until one troublesome women decided to ‘accidentally’ trip into tooru’s arm into a dramatic pose that wasn’t impressive, but before he could ask if she was alright the orchestra suddenly stopped playing at the sound of the grand doors abruptly opening and everyone’s attention was averted.

“y/n, from the l/n family!” declared the attendee.

as you slowly emerged and came into everyone’s view. they all gasped and started murmuring to each other at the site of the colour of your gown.

“does this girl not have any idea what crime she’s committing?”

“she’s clearly mocking the royal family, how disrespectful!”

“who does she think she is?”

“i’ve never seen her before.”

fortunately, you couldn’t hear them as you were trying your best not to trip as you descended down the flight of steps, holding onto the railing for dear life, but you could feel all the judgemental stares they were giving you in the corner of your eye.

tooru’s heart began pounding in his chest as he saw your descending figure. muttering a quick,”i’m sorry,” to the woman he caught and helped her onto her feet and swiftly began to approach you with haste. he couldn’t let this chance slip from his fingers. not when he has a million things on his mind to say to you.

finally, you stepped down onto the polished marble floor and let out a sigh of relief and glanced up to find a pair of familiar brown eyes with a million hues, belonging to the man of the night, growing larger until they were right in front of you. not once did your eyes break contact with his.

“you made it,” he gawked, astonished at your arivial.

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you beamed at him, forgetting how much you’ve wanted to see him again.

he bowed down. “would you grant me the greatest honour of joining me for my first dance of the night? only if you can handle it,” he teases, thrilled to be in the presence of you.

“you may, only if you can handle having your toes stepped on,” you tease back whilst curtseying, causing the both of you to erupt in laughter.

as tooru led you to the dance floor, all eyes were on you both as the orchestra began to play a waltz again. realising how nervous you must be, tooru gently placed his hand on your waist and held your hard reassuringly.

“just focus on me y/n. let me lead you.” you nodded, trusting in tooru to guide your inexperienced self.

tooru was true to his word as you both glided gracefully around the dance floor. he led you effortlessly, not even flinching when you would accidentally step on his foot for a brief moment. he just kept smiling at you with his gaze transfixed on your face. you couldn’t help but feel bashful.

“you look breathtaking,” tooru began, causing your face to heat up from his compliment.

“oh stop it tooru, you don’t have to say things you don’t mean,” you said, smiling down, still grateful for the compliment.

“it’s true y/n,” tooru affirmed, looking at you with a caring gaze that sent your stomach into a whirlwind.

“well, thank you. you don’t look bad yourself,” you admitted, wanting to compliment him too.

“of course, i am a prince after all,” he jokingly said, making you chuckle.

“did you plan this? us wearing matching colours,” you asked, realising the way he had the exact same shade of purple on his suit as your gown.

“and what if i did? it’s all part of my master plan,” he replied.

“your master plan of what?” you wondered, curious on what he was planning.

“you’ll see~” he retorted, causing you to sarcastically roll your eyes.

you both continued to dance in a comfortable silence until tooru abruptly broke it when he cleared his throat, getting ready to speak.

“i’m sorry y/n, for everything. i’m sorry for the lies i’ve told you about why i was always late to our meetups and why i was always getting bruises and cuts. i’m sorry for not opening up about my life sooner like you did, that wasn’t fair for you and i’m truly sorry for being the reason you cried,” he apologised.

“you saw me?” you asked, surprised that he knew.

he smiled and gazed at you,”how could i leave without taking one last glance at you,”

his words had a way of lifting an invisible weight off your chest. it felt surreal. the way he was able to enchant you with a few meek words that anyone could say, but he had his own unique charm that made you euphoric.

with a pause, tooru closed his eyes for a second, getting ready to say something.

“y/n…i-“

“tooru.”

a sudden rough, deep voice caused both of you to stop dancing and turn to see what you assumed to be tooru’s father. his demeanour sent chills down your spine as he looked at you with a stone cold expression. tooru looked irritated and turned around to face the king with a serious face as if he just switched personalities.

“father,” tooru said, in an expectant tone.

“come with me,” he demanded, turning around with his royal cloak following as it fluttered in the air.

tooru gave his father a small nod, his palms starting to become mildly sweaty. before he followed his father, he promptly turned around and held both of your shoulders and whispered,”there’s a side door near the back of the hall, exit from there and you’ll see a small stone shelter. go there and wait for me. i’ll try to be quick.”

the smell of a faint rosemary scent grew stronger as he leaned closer, his breath tickling your skin and an unexpected warmth resided on your cheek. with that he left, with you looking at his figure slowly fading away. you placed a hand to your left cheek where he laid his soft lips and rigidly exhaled. you’re full of surprises tooru, you thought.

you made haste, trying to ignore all the eyes that were on you. to your demise the same girl that tooru caught stood in your way, not moving an inch.

“excuse me ma’am, i have to get through,” you politely asked, starting to become impatient.

"you're not royalty," she accused, looking at you up and down.

"what?" you asked confused, just wanting to get out of the hall.

"you're clearly not royalty. your manners are ridiculous and you certainly don't know when to be on time, you attention seeker," she taunted, causing the crowd around you to gasp and snicker at her accusation.

to say you were peeved was an understatement. she irked you in a way no one has before. her voice was like a nagging child throwing a tantrum. it made your ears bleed. you wanted to grab her fake hair and strangle it around her neck. you would’ve if you had the chance. alas you sadly had to remain calm and collected.

“you’re just being hypocritical, miss. i’m sure everyone here saw the way you desperately threw yourself at the prince,” you retorted with a smile. the woman’s cocky expression quickly dropped to a glare.

“you lowly bitc-”

“i think that’s enough lady ayame,” iwaizumi cut in, his words silencing the crowd as he stepped out into the open.

you turned around to see the owner of the unfamiliar voice walking towards the two of you. he stopped and looked down upon the ayame with cold eyes.

“l-lieutenant iwaizumi,” she cowardly said in fear, curtseying while avoiding his gaze.

he then turned to you. you slightly jumped, scared that he’d glare at you too for causing a commotion. you were frozen in place.

“see lieutenant, she isn’t even showing her manners towards you!” ayame pointed out, trying to justify her actions.

iwaizumi didn’t bother wasting his time by talking to her. instead he raised his hand in a way to silence her in which she immediately stopped talking as he kept his eyes on you. at this point you were sweating bricks, trying to not move an inch. this isn’t what i was signing up for.

“go,” he sternly said, nudging his head to the direction of the door.

all you could reply with was a nod then you grabbed a handful of your gown and ran out, not daring to look back. i’ll have to thank him later, i almost got into a cat fight.

you were amazed at the scenery in front of you when you frantically left the hall. you suspected it to be the royal garden. you stepped down onto the footpath, hearing the therapeutic sound of flowing water from the fountain surrounded by an abundance of radiant flowers. from the dim street lights illuminating the garden, to the warm summer breeze brushing against your skin you felt ethereal and nostalgic at the same time. finally, you entered the stone shelter, still admiring the scenery in front of you as you patiently waited for tooru to arrive.

--- ⁠✧

it must've been more than five minutes now and slowly the rain droplets began pattering against the cobblestone paths and yet it wasn’t cold at all. the summer night prevented it. you hated the humid air as it clung onto your skin, feeling sticky.

you speculated on what kept tooru so back. did his father need to talk to him about an important matter that they had to speak about in private? a thousand questions began to swirl in your mind as you started to worry.

in deep thought, you saw a tall figure approaching through the heavy rain. you stood up, squinting to make out who it was. it was tooru. you immediately started shouting his name whilst waving your hand, encouraging him to run faster. you couldn’t help but beam at his presence, excited to what he was going to tell you. he stood in front of you panting, his hair covering half his face as water dripped from his hair and clothes. he shook his hair like a dog, trying to dry himself. you screamed as you tried to backed away from the water droplets attacking you while tooru evilly laughed trying to get closer to you.

“ugh, tooru get away from me!” you shouted with a light hearted laugh, running around in circles from the small space of the shelter.

tooru laughed in response, catching you from behind with a hug. immediately, your gown started getting wet. you tried hitting his arms so he would let go but he didn’t budge.

“come on tooru, let go of me!” you whined, attempting to pry his arms open.

“hmm, i don’t think i will,” he teased, resting his head on your shoulder.

you huffed and roughly turned yourself around so you could see him, and lifted his damp hair up trying to clearly see his face until you saw a harsh red mark on his cheek. your lips parted at the realisation of why he took so long and cupped his face. this time he didn't flinch or back away.

“tooru…” you painfully started. how could he just stand there and smile at you?

“yes y/n?” he asked, gazing at you with a warm smile, not bothering to hide what you saw.

not finding any words to reply with, you just gave him a warm embrace to which he accepted. you cried deeply inside. why did you always have to see him bruised and battered?

“you don’t deserve this tooru,” you sighed.

“don’t worry about it y/n,” tooru reassuringly replied, stroking your hair.

“ it’s all my fault,” you began.

“if i hadn’t showed up none of this would’ve happened. you would still be in the hall celebrating your birthday, having the time of your life with everyone. but instead you’re stuck with me and now your reputation is most likely ruined. i mean, did you see everyone ogling us? they definitely didn’t enjoy seeing me dance with you,” you concluded with a heavy heart.

“if the world were to suddenly end in the next minute, i wouldn’t regret being stuck with you,” he professed. you couldn’t help but let out a breath of unbelief, marvelled at his statement.

“well tooru, as the next heir wouldn’t you think that you should be spending your time wisely?” you sarcastically asked, eyebrows dramatically raised trying to make him laugh.

“well y/n, i’d be glad to tell you that i’m not the heir to the throne anymore,” he retorted, mocking the same face you made to him.

“yeah sure tooru, nice joke,” you rolled your eyes at him smirking but he kept a straight face.

“that wasn’t a joke y/n,” he claimed, causing you to furrow your eyebrows.

“you’re pulling my leg,” you said dumbfounded.

tooru hysterically laughed at your expression while you stood there wide eyed.

“tooru, please tell me i heard that correctly,” you asked, wanting affirmation on the words you processed.

“what do you think i said?” he teased smirking at you.

“i think you’re lying,” you retorted.

“and why would i ever lie about that?” he asked, enjoying your flabbergasted state.

“y-you’re really not lying?” you questioned, not wanting to fall for another joke. tooru gave you an honest smile. you knew he wasn’t lying anymore.

“holy shit,” you swore out of disbelief. tooru laughed at your reaction.

“is that how you got that?” you pointing to his cheek, looking at him with empathy.

“maybe,” he teased.

“I’m being serious tooru,” you sternly said, having enough with his antics.

he sighed,”well, father called me out to talk about you first and foremost. he scolded me about inviting you and giving you that gown but i didn’t care. that wasn’t the reason why he did this though. i said that i didn’t want to be king and that i was going to leave the palace to join the army like iwaizumi and was the result,” he bashfully said scratching the back of his head.

“does this mean you’re no longer a prince?” you wondered.

“i still am by blood. i'm just not going to be king. i never intended to stay anyway,” he explained.

"then who's going to step up in your place?"

"that's where my sister came in and explained how she's already prepared to be a queen since she's older than me and smarter too. father just never shown her favour because of mother. he wanted her to live a calm and peaceful life. it's quite a twist of events that all came out to my fortune," he smiled to himself, thankful his sister stepped in for him.

"i wish i met your sister," you said, thinking of her as a role model already.

"you really wouldn't. she gets mad at me all the time for the littlest things," he grumbled, remembering all the times he got scolded by her.

"i can understand why, you are like an annoying little pest," you teased with a giggl, to which tooru pouted and whined.

as the two of you died down, a comfortable silence took over as you two listened to the pitter patters of the ongoing rain. i've missed this. what a coincidence that you both thought it at the same time. tooru looked over to your calm figure as you gazed out onto the garden.

"y/n?" tooru called, seeking your attention.

"mhm?" you responded, turning around to face him. he was closer than before.

"remember before i left, I wanted to say something to you?" he asked nervously.

"hmm, oh yeah, you were about to say something to me. what was it?" you recalled, curious onto what he was going to say.

"well, the sole reason i wanted to be a knight was because i couldn't protect my mum. of course no one was able to save her, but the burden and guilt that was left held me accountable from my perspective. it has always been my goal to protect everyone i love," he stopped, catching his breath. you gave him a nod, motioning him to continue.

"y/n, my heart aches everytime we depart. every goodbye you say to me makes me want to come running back to you. every lingering touch made me yearn more from you. i only experience the goodness of life through every second i get with you. truth be told when i say i live now to serve you," he expressed, pouring his heart and soul into every word he said.

"w-what are you getting at tooru?" you hesitantly ask, your heart racing for an answer.

"i love you, y/n. i'm not trying to force you to love me. i just…" he momentarily paused gathering his thoughts before continuing, "i won't ask you to love me, so please just give me permission to love you."

you had the utmost authority right now. he was pleading to you. he loves you. with all these realisations, you stood there, opposite a lovesick tooth, filled to the max with mixed emotions. good ones, where one of which swayed you to leaped into tooru's arms as you held him tightly close.

"is this a yes?" tooru asked with a grin as he gazed at you longingly.

what followed, your weren't entirely too sure. your brain fogged as the proximity between the two of you came to a close. tooru's soft, puckered lips collided gently against yours. you both could exhaled at the contact, releasing all your tensions as the world came to a stop for both of you. sparks of joy leaped from tooru's chest as he cherished the moment. this was his reward for waiting so patiently for you. the strong scent of rosemary intoxicated your lungs as you breathed him in. your hands found its way to his hair, your fingers carding through his locks. you were each others addiction, craving for more, not letting go until you were both satisfied. pulling away, you both took deep breaths whilst gazing at each other fondly. tooru still holding you close.

"that was…" tooru began between small breaths.

"amazing," you finished, a wide smile forming on your heated face.

"of course it was, aren't i a great kisser?" tooru praised, returning back to his charming self.

"oh stop it," you rolled your eyes as you tried to turn away from him.

"look at you becoming shy because of me," he teased, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you towards the rain. you decided to just let him take you, knowing you wouldn't have enough strength to defy him.

"i've always wanted to do this with you," he shouted through the booming sound of rain.

"do what?" you shouted back, trying to block the rain from your view with your hand.

he took your hand and placed it on his shoulder, intertwining his remaining hand with yours. a familiar scene playing out again. instead, this time you both looked ridiculous. clothes soaking wet that whenever tooru would twirl you around your gown would project droplets of water like an umbrella. but you both didn't care. laughing carefree, acting childish, knowing you'd be sick the next day and yet you both had no regrets. the rain began to disperse and you both came to stop, finally tired from all the dancing.

smiling up at him you greeted, "happy birthday tooru," before pulling on his collar and giving him one final peck on his soft pillowy lips, as the summer breeze flowed by and the cicadas buzzed in the trees.

it didn't feel real. it felt heavenly.

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

September 30th: Freeday!

WARNING: Slightly suggestive cause these boys be old!

“Look at the picture our princess sent us!” Shouted Riddle as he put his phone in front of his dear husband. Ace smiles softly at the photo of his daughter, his dear sweet Rose, on a broom with the biggest brightest smile on her face with the late autumn sun bouncing off her ginger locks and sweet freckled face. He sighs as he cooed, “She got your talented nature.” It’s been a month since their little flower grew and joined Night Raven Collage and the pair have finally settled down enough in their quiet home, finally done with that feeling of an empty nest in their rib cages from the first week of missing her. They’ve been busy with work by then, Riddle helping children as much as he can and Ace solving some arrests in the area, sometimes they even worked together on some cases which though the context as to why they’re seeing their husband is sad they are very happy to see their lover anyways.

Riddle stood up from the sofa and walked to the kitchen as their kettle screams for their finished tea, Ace watches from his seating spot with a grin. “We should mail her some cookies soon, I bet she must be studying soon and needs as many snacks to help her out—” The previous Queen of Heartslabyul yelps as he feels freckles hands grab him from behind as he turns to stove off and pours the tea. He doesn’t even have to look behind him to know it’s Ace being needy. The only other proof to prove who these hands belong too was the soft lips that graze against the shell of his right ear. “Mmm~ Cherry blossom, the last time you wore this scent was our honeymoon~” Ace chuckled, rubbing his index fingers up the shorter’s waist up to the ribs, smirking as Riddle purrs gently. “And boy was that a fun time~” He finished as he nibbled that thin pale neck sweetly.

Knock knock

The two publicly groan and sigh as they pull apart from the knocking. Riddle turns around and gives Ace a peck and reassurance, “We can continue later.” With a boop of Ace’s nose, he walks out the kitchen and down the hall to the front door. His blue-gray eyes blinked as he turned the knob and opened the door at the two standing in front of him right on his “Welcome” mat. “Heya Riddle~” “Good afternoon you two.”

A second glass of wine were filled thanks to Trey as he helps Ace brings over some more snacks to eat, nodding as he enters the conversation, “And then she took the last ham! I had to go back tomorrow after work to get a new one just for that recipe." Groaned Cater. Riddle giggled, "Oh you poor dear, why did you even want to make cheesy ham and potato casserole?" "Because Martha made it look nice so I wanted to try!"

The other men chuckle, ate, and drank among each other as they talk for the later afternoon. It was always a treat to spend time together, they've all been so busy with work and family lives even though they live just a neighborhood away, so when they do meet they always makes sure to have a good laugh especially since their boy joined Night Raven the same time as Rose.

Suddenly green eyes look to the wall clock and a smirk appears. "We should get going now." Said Cater, already standing up with a giggling hum. His dear sweet baker of a husband look at him confused. "Hm? But you said you wanted to stay at least 'til—" He started but the gentle yet still firm tug up of his arm in courtesy of his beloved stopped him and caused him to stand too. Ace tilts his head as he watches the oldest two of the group hurriedly leave with a wave of Cater's hand and a sing-song chirp of good-bye from the ginger's voice, "Bye bye now~ Have fun~!"

Ace looked to Riddle as he sips the rest of his wine as he hears the door shut. "What did you say while I was in the kitchen?" He asked. Poking his tongue out, Riddle licks the wine off his lips as he look to his husband with half lidded eyes littered in full perfect dark lashes. "I may have told him I had some things to do. Some cleaning, some paper work, some exercise~"

The two stare at each other for less than 20 seconds before their lips were locked.

Ace held his Prince of Hearts close as he taste the red wine he just devoured along side his tongue as he enjoys the vibrations of the hum and purr exiting Riddle and flooding into his mouth. Riddle hands grip right onto Ace's button up shirt as they soon fall back to the sofa, legs tangled and hairs already getting messy alongside the black fabric covers.

Bzzt bzzt! Bzzt bzzt!

"Oh come on!" Ace couldn't help but shout as he felt Riddle's phone vibrate in his pocket with the slight sound of the two beeps of the phone ringing. They could easily ignore it but both knew Riddle wouldn't allow it regardless how much he wants to.

Riddle reached down as he sits up and answers the phone call on speaker, "Hello?" "Hey dad!" The two pause when they hear their little girl's sweet voice. Smiling already stitched to their faces as Riddle fixed his hand hold. "Hey there baby girl! How are you?" Ace spoke, his voice filled with genuine joy hearing from her. A giggle escapes the phone speaker, "I'm doing good daddy. I'm walking back to my dorm but I wanted to call." She sounded slightly embarrassed, a thing her fathers knew well after all this time raising her. Riddle smiled and spoke, "Awww, you're free to call us whenever princess." He suppressed his giggle when he sees Ace's eyes narrow at him, as if knowing his mind is saying "Maybe not any time".

Rose giggles, her red shoes walking alongside the stone floors of the hallways. "I would love to get some cookies dad, I'm sure Thad take some too once he smells them." She joked, shooting a glance at the tall lad next to her with light lavender blue curls and amber eyes behind his round gray colored glasses perched on his strong Roman nose dressed in a open blue cardigan with a periwinkle ribbon around his left arm. He glares back down, "Hey—!"

The girl giggles as she skips ahead of him, her long auburn hair flowing like ribbons against her back. "I'll call you again later this week. Love you~" She said with a sweet smile, in instinct she waves her hand a little as if they would somehow see.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND THE RIDOACEWEEK24 IS OVER ON MY END!

So sorry for @ridoaceweek and everyone else for missing some days or if my stories aren't as great!

Final thing I wanted to add before I leave, these pictures is how I imagine Riddle and Ace's home:

[melancholypancakes]

No words can express how excited I was to reveal Brienne Velvet in the Butcher AU

For a couple of months I’ve been working on her character and design, at first i wasn’t going to make Brienne in this Dark AU.

Mainly due to lack of fitting her in the AU and the idea of Wally being a cannibal lol

{Warning: this contains gore and disturbing descriptions some people will find disturbing}

Anyway, Meet Brienne Velvet, the Baker and newest neighbor of the neighborhood Home, she moved from Violet Evergreen with her roommate Sally Starlet, a starving actress.

Brienne opened up her own bakery, Baby Doll’s and seemly life was going swell…well until she met her neighbor across from her bakery, the Butcher, Wally Darling.

Well, met is far fetched to Wally…

{In 1958}

Wally was a little boy, abused and neglected by his father, Detleu loved by his mother, Donna until her death by the hands of his father.

Wally was just a boy, hurt, depressed and abused, he felt alone at the park until a young girl with blonde pig tails approached him, she helped him with his bruises and talk to him like a friend.

This girl was Brienne Velvet, she had blonde pretty golden hair at the time, she and wally became the best of friends while growing up in home.

Brienne lived with her mother, Margaret and older sister Brittany. Prior to moving to Home Archie Velvet, Husband and father died in a car crash causing his family to move for a new life.

During Wally & Brienne’s teen years, they gone closer and closer, Brienne was his study buddy and often protected him rather it’d be bullies or his father.

Brienne wasn’t the popular girl, she was pretty but definitely not the dream girl…to wally she was, Brienne was an athlete in women’s track that was rare.

Brienne had a brighter and welcoming family mor than Wally which why he preferred to to hang out with her at her house instead.

Eventually Brienne and Wally started dating in secret mainly from his father, they went on movie dates whether it was the theater or at her place, it took awhile but wally got used to Margaret being nice to him.

It was sweet while it lasted…a cute young couple just in love, blinded by reality and dangers.

{In 1963}

Wally and Brienne were giggling, sneaking into his backyard at night while his father was “asleep”, they talked during the moonlight, gazing at each other with love and kissing without a care in the world.

Unfortunately, that blindness of love was there downfall, deltleu wasn’t asleep but drunk and when he heard sounds in his backyard, he grabbed a shotgun and saw wally with Brienne making out and in his drunken state…

He cloaked his gun casing the young lovers to break away and Brienne gasp in fear as Wally’s father had a shotgun, causing Wally to quickly push her off and made her run.

She ran and panted, scared for her life as she should be, Wally begged his father not to hurt Brienne but he didn't listen and shot, until she collapsed when he finally shot her in the head.

Wally screamed bloody murder, he had lost it, he tried to ran to Brienne’s unmoving body but his father grabbed him as Wally screamed how much he hated him for killing his girlfriend.

Unknown to him, Brienne was alive, barely breathing but unconscious and wolves in the deep woods smelled her blood.

They start ripping her skin and eating her flesh off.

Brienne would’ve been truly dead if it weren’t for two officers finding her in the woods after Margaret was on a search for her missing daughter.

She was missing for three hours and within that three hours she was alive, bleeding from her head and bloody all over her face, the cops rushed the poor girl to the hospital.

Margaret and Brittany were worried, Brienne was attached to wires and a life line.

Brienne was brought to the hospital on time to be saved by chance, a miracle and some would say fate.

Doctors operated on Brienne face, wounds and getting the bullet out of her head.

It took weeks for Brienne to be conscious again but her face was healing miraculously.

However, Brienne had no memories of Wally, no memories of early childhood years just memories of Brittany and Margaret.

That was then Margaret made it a decision as her mother to move to a different town away from here.

She never told briennd the truth, manipulated her, and forced Brittany not to utter a word.

She firmly believed this town was dangerous, although Margaret loved her children, she couldn’t bare to look at Brienne. Her face was gone and she had to wear a prosthetic pin-up doll mask for the rest of her life.

Brienne went on through the rest of her high school years like this with no friends, she cut her hair and dyed it black, she didn’t like looking like her mother who could barely stand her.

After high school, Brienne worked at a Hotel to make money to support herself and make enough money to become a professional baker and to own her own bakery.

She met a woman around her age, Sally Starlet her co-worker. They were both front desk.

Sally's dream was to be an actress. She wanted to star in musicals, movies, and TV. As of now, she was a starving actress.

Once the two individual women developed a friendship, they had a plan to move in together for their careers.

At the end of the year 1985, Brienne moved in with Sally in the neighborhood "home".

Sally would focus on her acting career while Brienne could open her bakery "Baby doll's".

Unfortunately, she would find out that something dark and sinister lurks in the night...waiting and hunting.

She can feel it from the butcher shop across her bakery, her librarian Frank, mail man, Eddie, friendly neighbor Poppy, the comedian, Barnaby, and the grocery store owner Howdy feel it too...

A/n: I had have this character underground for a year and by god, I'm so thrilled I get to show her off!

This is one of my brilliant stories with Brienne and Wally in the AUs.

And yes, people who know the plot love the tragic love story in the butcher wally au :)

Butcher wally belongs to @Meatbag56 on Tiktok

In the butcher AU, I have three endings planned

The true ending/happy ending: Brienne stays in the neighborhood "home" she rekindles her lost love with Wally after talking with him finally and remembers her past slowly but surely.

In this ending a secret path is revealed in the story, Brienne was forced to take medical pills "Alprazolam" to forget her past with wally by her mother.

It is only when she stops taking them everything is revealed to her, also Wally and Brienne end up getting married and having your kids in this ending :)

The bad ending: Everyone is dead, straight up Wally kills the neighbors and Brienne's best friend Sally.

Brienne knows she and wally had a relationship but she was driven with madness and insanity after her friends were killed and her employees.

She wants revenge and instead of running away she confront Wally and makes him pay with his life.

In this ending, she kills Wally with her axe with no hesitation and what reminds her of her psyche is insanity.

The escape ending: This is the neutral ending where most of the neighbors are killed, Sally and Brienne are left to survive and escape the butcher shop.

In this ending, Brienne never rekindles her lost love with wally not remembers him and leaves with sally to LA to start a fresh start with their careers.

I based off Brienne design in this au as sal fisher from sally face as you can tell.

Brienne is a fairy puppet like the rest of her family and she is chubby in the present time unlike in the past

(I can't draw sally I'm sorry XD the includes probably the rest of the welcome home neighbors)

In case no one knew, Brienne not best friends with Julie joyful in the neighborhood due to the canon wise she is dead in the butcher wally au so she never met her and only sally.

The song for Brienne theme are

"The Ballad of Jane doe" from a ride on the cyclone

"cake" Melanie Martizen

"Hayloft 1 & 2" from Mother which the backstory with Brienne and wally love based off.

"Bugambillia" Nasa Histories

"Memories and Dreams" Sally face (Metal cover)

"Monster" Meg and Dia

"The Monster" Rihanna & Eminem

"Monster" Skillet

"Not Gonna Die" Skillet

"Awake and Alive" Skillet

"Anastasia's Villain song, Journey to the past" by Lydia the Bard

[sergeantrosabellaswan]

War Orphan, CHAPTER 2 KING STEVE & DEAF THEIF LITTLE SISTER OFC

SUMMARY: King Steven of Brooklyn discovers a secret that his gruff father kept from the world. Now with the older king long dead, Steve wants to introduce Johanna Swan to the royal court. What happens when spies, poison and secrets meets them at every turn?

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORESS: chapter two- let’s go woodpeckers!

LINE BREAKS BY @firefly-graphics

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 1076

Steve huffed out an annoyed sigh as he planted his hands onto his hips and looked around him. It was Sunday afternoon, and people had just gotten out from church and were now mingling and chatting idly. He had thought that he would stake out the church, thinking that Johanna would be a regular attendee, only to find that he had been in vain.

“Stevie, I don’t think she wants to be found.”

The king’s only response was to let out an irritated grunt, spinning around a few times with her hands on the back of his head.

“Don’t say that now Buck,” he warned his childhood friend with a low growl. Then he saw the baker’s son- Matthew was his name- hurrying off on his way with an armful of unsold loaves from the day before. “Come along now! I have an idea!”

“Oh woe be me,” Bucky bemoaned playfully as he hurried up after the king, the both of them blending into the crowd.

“Johanna went into his father’s bakery yesterday,” Steve remembered with a hum. “Maybe he knows where she’s hiding out.”

Bucky could only groan softly as he followed close behind- when Steve had a mission in mind, he would complete it no matter what.

The two men kept quiet and were certain to duck away  whenever the young man would stop and glance behind him until he finally reached a decrepited building in the poorer parts of Brooklyn. People were out and about in their too small, well worn, patched to the point where it was more patches than clothings.

Bucky looked behind him and saw his friend was dropping coins every so often while staring straight ahead of him.

“Buck, do you think my father knew?” he asked, looking around and then scowling when he realized that Matthew had disappeared.

“It honestly would not surprise me much anyways.”

A woman materialize out of from the empty space between two houses. She was stunning, with long, slim limbs and a slender face with hazel green eyes and a long, thin red braid.

“This Johanna?” Bucky muttered, not taking his eyes off from her.

She overheard him.

“What is your business with her?” She did not phrase her words as a question.

Steve’s hand dove into the pouch on his belt, where he took out a letter between Johanna’s mother and his late father.

My love-

Johanna lost a tooth today. She was eating an apple when she suddenly realized that she must have eaten her tooth. Poor baby was crying at the idea of not receiving a copper from the tooth fairy. Should I tell her that the tooth fairy will still come and pay her a visit regardless of whether or not she had a tooth to trade for coin? You know of how much I hate it when she cries- she is truly your daughter.

The green eyed redhead squinted at the letter before spinning around and vanishing into thin air once more.

“Now what?” Bucky asked, his eyes darting about as his hand tightened on his sword.

“I think we wait,” Steve suggested, leaning up against a closed storefront and turning his attention to the limp crowd of people.

~xoXox~

I watched the king and the captain of his guards from my place in the alley right across from them. The young king was a handsome fella, with hair as yellow as a gold coin and eyes as blue as the sky at noontime. He was tall and well built and walked with a certain kingly pride. His captain of the guard was also handsome, although in a rugged type of way with dark waves that brushed his shoulders and a scruff over the lower half of his face. The blond carried a simple knife in the small of his back and the brunet wore a sword at his hip, and I could only figure that both men knew how to work their weapons.

A nudge at my elbow drew my attention to the person standing slightly behind me- Matthew, the son of the baker. He was a few inches past six feet tall, with dark strawberry blond curls and dark green eyes set into a face of tanned skin and expressive lips. His arms were muscular from working in the back of his father’s bakery kneading dough and mixing ingredients to let the dough rise to triple its original size.

Hey, he greeted me, his face soft and gentle. How are you doing?

I snorted, jerking my thumb over towards where the king and his childhood friend were lingering, both clearly waiting for something.

Or rather, someone.

What do they want? Matthew’s nose crinkled as though he had just gotten a noseful of something that reeked.

No idea, I answered. But I kind of don’t want to find out why they’re tailing after me.

And with that, I twirled around and all but disappeared from where I stood, leave Matthew alone.

From where I had whisked myself off to, I saw his chest rumbling with laughter as he shook his head.

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

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@sinner-as-saint

@until-theend-oftheline

@kayteewritessteve

@imamotherfuckingstar-lord

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[ohlookanothercartoontofallinto]

@imprisioned-in-the-hole in the tags of the prince and the pauper au raised me Link in the Swan Lake, which I turned around and said. challenge accepted. Give me any characters I know and love and I will make a functional au with them. 

I did decide to go with Zelda as the main lead in this one though. 

Once upon a time in a kingdom far away there lived a baker, Gaepora, and his two beautiful daughters. The fearless and outgoing Artemis, and the shy and more timid Sun. One day while Sun was hard at work, a purple bunny made the town stir. With everyone trying to capture it. Sun did not, she only watched. Seeing the poor thing get tangled up in ropes. She followed it into the deep woods. Through a cave and out into a magical grove with a lake. The poor bunny was now trapped in some brighers. She approached it carefully attempting to calm him. Then the animal spoke. He very quickly informed her his name was Ravio, and asked if she would be so kind as to help him. Sun agreed quickly, finding a crystal in the stone wall to cut him free. 

Dazzling the onlookers, The Fierce Deity, King of the fairies and ruler of the enchanted forest. By his side was a Fairy, Otter, two wooden children, and a Seagull. Navi, Tetra, Fado, Saria, and Marin were their names. The king approached the young woman explaining how she is now the savior of the forest because she pulled the stone. Deities' evil cousin Majora and his (Something) Veran, have been slowly taking over the forest, and draining the king's magic. However now that Sun is here she can save them all. Sun is apprehensive and explains she’s no hero. She can not do as the Deity wishes. He understands and commands Ravio and Tetra to take her safely back to the village. 

However, Majora appears, and threatens Sun, deciding it would be funny to toy with the girl. Turning her into a White and Pink loftwing. Which backfires on the Evil fairy seeing as she is now twice his size. Sun does the rathenal thing and pecks him. Because of the curse, Sun is now forced to reside in the enchanted forest, and be the holder of the crystal. As loftwing by day, and a human by night. 

Now that we have the basic premise down I can write a bit weirder now. 

Switch over to the castle, where the king and queen and their 8 sons live. The oldest, Prince Sky, is playing with his youngest brother Wind, who he promised to take hunting. Unfortunately Sky has to break his promise because of a royal ball that will be taking place in 3 months.  Everyone expects the heir to the throne to choose his bride during the dance and it is stressing the prince out. Prince Wind decides to go hunting alone. Being led into the enchanted forest by Majora, in hopes that he will shoot Sun. Wind, believe it or not, is not a good hunter and Sun just walks up behind him, curious. 

 "AAHH Giant big BIRD! But dang you are really pretty!” ''Oh um thank you." "AH GIANT TALKING BIG BIRD!" "Not the brightest are you?" "AH TALKING OTTER!" Which is the start to a beautiful friendship. 

Wind starts visiting the enchanted kingdom from evening to midnight on a fairly regular basis. 

Causing Sky to grow more and more upset. Because he feels his younger brother is dodging him on purpose. Rational assuming, "He's mad at me for not taking him hunting that day and now he’s pulling away from his oldest big brother, who he once loved!" "Sky stop being dramatic, he's probably just doing something he doesn't want anyone to know about." “Oh right he’s a teen now and they like their secrets…Well, I guess I’m following him now!” “Sky, no” 

He does it anyway. Finding it quite strange that his little brother is going into unknown woods by himself. Not concerning at all. Him casually walking towards a giant bird creature that looks legendary. Now that’s concerning. Sky would pull out his bow and point an arrow at Sun, it’s his baby brother what do you expect. 

“WIND DON’T GO NEAR THAT THING!” “Sky?” Wind quickly guards Sun arms stretch out wide. "SKY PUT THE BOW DOWN!" "GET AWAY FROM THE BIRD" "PUT THE BOW DOWN!" Which by this time Sun would turn back into human causing sky to go into himbo mode because. Oh dang, she's beautiful.

And thus starts our romance. For the next two months, Wind and Sky would go to the Enchanted forest. Hoping they could do something to release the people from the Majora curse. Sky and Sun grow closer and closer, and by this point everyone is just shocked they are not together yet. While those two are getting closer, Wind and Tetra are researching for answers. Which they find. 

“To break the curse, a declaration of undying love to all the world, must be made to Sun….Seriously? That seems really stupid and a real oversight on the crystal side." "What do you mean?" "I mean is Sun's heart connected to the crystal now? And whoever she loves, so your brother. Does the crystal make their heart one? If the magic dies within it will they both pass? Like what's going on here?" “So all she needs is a declaration of undying love to the world?” “Apparently?” “Perfect, Sun will attend the royal ball with me!” “W–what?” “There will be kings and queens from all over the world there. If I proclaim my love it will be to the whole world.” “Yes, yes I will go with you.” 

Majora can not allow that to happen, and creates a necklace for Veran to wear that tricks sky into thinking that she’s sun. To keep Sun at bay for a while he kidnaps Ravio and takes him to his dark palace. This is barely an inconvenience and they save Ravio relatively fast. 

Back at the ball the royal family is a bit confused by Sky's choice of women. (Remember they see Veran as Veran) "Oh...is this why he didn't tell us about her?" While Wind is over in the corner, internally screaming. "THAT SURE AS HECK IN NOT SUN THE WOMEN HE LOVES"  

Out of the corner of his eye he sees through the window guards rushing towards somewhere and he quickly follows. Finding sun in her Loftwing form be attacked by the guards. He rush towards her screaming at the guards. "DON'T YOU DARE LAY ANOTHER HAND ON HER! Sun!" Cute little prince head hug from the prince. Wind realizes what’s going on but knows it's too late so all he can do is get Sun to fly back to the forest, maybe just maybe she will be able to survive there. She would pull the youngest prince on her back and go. Sadly as their flying, sky confesses his love to Veran and Sun just feels it, it shatters her heart, and she starts to go down. 

Thankfully crashing into the enchanted forest. About that same time guards come in saying the youngest prince has been kidnapped by a large bird pink and white. Which only Sky knows what that means.

Pulling out his sword he violently swing it at Veran slashing her across the chest and breaking the necklace confirming his greatest fear. He would scream violently, and Time, Twilight and Warrior would have to hold him. All while Majora laughs maniacally at him, causing Malon, Legend, Four, and Hyrule. To be on guard and pull out their weapons. 

“WHAT DID YOU DO, WHAT DO YOU DO!” Sky scream pierced the heavens. “Oh, it’s not what I did, little prince it’s what you did.” 

Somehow, Sky would be able to escape his father and brothers and rush to the forest, heavy tears streaming down his face. 

Back in the enchanted forest Fierce Deity, and his crew would find Sun and Wind, Sun is fading fast, and Wind’s out cold with a broken arm. They bring them back to the lake only to be met by Majora. Who is insistent on getting that crystal. Deity, would take a stance, though he is weak he will do everything in his power to protect his children. They would have epic battle. 

During the battle, Sky would arrive, checking in on his brother real quick, Tetra has him so he’s fine. Then rushing to Sun. 

“Sun…” “Sky, I…I feel so weak.” “Sh sh, I’m here. Please Sun, that declaration was for you…it was for you.” “I know…I love you Sky.” “Sun…” She slides the crystal into his hands and fades. “Sun! No no please Sun I love you too.” Kiss her on the forehead. 

As sky holds her, Majoa throws a mask at the group. The mask of the Fierce Deity. 

“Now that was fun, now hand over that crystal boy or do I need to take it by force.” 

Sky would scream and just go ballistic on Majora. With the crystal, turning into a sword. (Only because of the love that was shared between Sun and Him) They fight for a bit then, the prince look back to see Wind holding Sun, crying, and that be the catalyst. Sky would wreck him. Destroying Majora, and allowing the power of the crystal to explode throughout the entire Enchanted forest. Freeing everything that was hurt by majora. (Also healing Winds arm in the process) 

Sky would lip back over to his brother and the love of his life and just ingulp them in a hug. Whispering sweet messages to Sun begging her to wake up. Which she does, and falling on top of him kissing sky sweetly as they lay on the ground. 

AND NOW HAPPY ENDING! Sun is reunited with her family. She marries Sky. The royal family are delighted to find out the whole story, and wind makes many a trip to the enchanted forest to hang out with his friends, and in the very far future wife. 

Hope you enjoyed it.

[halcyon-writings]

OK BUT SERIOUSLY SINCE REQUESTS R OPEN MAY I GRACIOUSLY REQUEST AN ETHAN WINTERS (RE8) X DAUGHTER READER (PLATONIC) WHOS A TEEN AND ACCOMPANIES HIM ON THE JOURNEY AND SHES REALLY PROTECTIVE OVER HER AND SHE DISAPPEARS IN THE DIMITRESCU CASTLE ONLY TO BE FOUND BY ETHAN LOCKED IN A OR SUM SHIT WAITING FOR ETHAN THANK YOU TAKE CARE OF URSELF IS THIS GOOD ENOUGH HSHAHAHAH

so idk if this was a request for hcs or a fic so i kind of just did a combo of the two

warnings/notes: canon typical violence, some mentioned re7 + village spoilers, gn!reader

It starts off how stories like these always do, a man has no need to go into a terrifying yet quiet town or farmhouse, but he does anyway, because he has a big heart to make up for the lack of rational sense. He knew something was wrong about Mia’s final video call, that her message was showing anything but the fact that she was safe. So he loaded up his car and got to driving.

And now who would’ve thought that it domino’d into Ethan Winters, currently hoisting up his teenaged child into a farm house’s window to unlock it from the inside so that a group of bloodthirsty lycans would not tear them apart, being here?

He wishes he could tell what you were thinking. When he had found you back at the Baker’s home, you were quiet, skittish, and scared. But unharmed for the most part, molded and the infected family alike seemed to avoid you. Well not Lucas, but he was the textbook example of homicidal, so Ethan supposed he didn’t count. Sure with the time passing, you had gotten comfortable, and the therapy Chris and his group had provided helped too. But you were still quiet for the most part.

Until something changed. Rather spending time with Mia, you kept to yourself in your room. Otherwise you kept around Ethan himself or baby Rose if the parents needed you to look after her while they worked during the day, or at least when Mia had strangely not wanted to keep Rose with herself at all times. At meal times you had made yourself scarce too, quickly finishing what you had on your plate and cleaning your dish, returning to your room. Mia’s behavior was strange and he had ticked it off as being concerned but wanting to give you your space.

“You know how teenagers are,” She would say with a simple shrug. “I’m sure whatever this phase is will end soon.”

And then it didn’t.

Because now you were being dragged out of your room by men in all sorts of gear with weapons pointed at you, Rose’s cries echoing throughout the dark house while you fruitlessly struggled against them. You hear Ethan call out for you, righteous anger and worry in his voice. You try and reach for him, but only feel a sharp pain at the back of your neck. Your vision goes dark and so does your consciousness follows soon after.

And that’s how you both end up here. The truck meant to transport you somewhere crashes. You ignore the bad feeling as you step out, snow crunching beneath your shoes. At least they let you put on decent shoes, your fuzzy slippers surely would’ve been soaked by the snow.

Ethan calls your name and you look up, he begins to take off the large jacket from the bodies, the bodies, left of the soldiers meant to take you to wherever Chris had wanted you to go. And your shivering form doesn’t help, a small and thin sweater only doing so much for you. It should’ve felt wrong to disrespect the dead like that but your mother- guardian was dead, and your baby sister was missing.

The village was an experience from hell, memories of the Baker House were quick to rear its ugly head. You try and cover your ears, eyes shut tight as you crouch in an attempt to make yourself smaller. From those, creatures almost mauling you and Ethan losing his fingers, to Luisa and those villagers, they did not deserve the gruesome end they got.

Ethan kneels beside you, hands cupping your head as he brings you close into an embrace, quiet assurances that you both will be leaving soon, finding Rose and going home. “I’ll protect you kiddo,” He swears, and you believe it. Your head is tucked under his chin, and Ethan remembers that you’re still a child too, his words to protect you weren’t just that, as he swears to himself. He would tear those things apart for both of his children, to make sure they could go home and live in peace. His heart clenches however, when his mind trails to Mia and how she would not be with them.

And then you reach a wine cellar of all places. Before you meet a mysterious man that makes goosebumps rise on your skin. And then a metal pipe goes through his leg, and the pair of you are encased in metal scrap, being dragged to who knows where. Finding yourselves in a cold chapel, in front

Although the worried look you send his way makes Ethan think maybe it was better off to be back in the wine cellar. As the man- Heisenberg- forces him to run while you’re dragged back. You try to run at least, but you don’t make it far. The Very Tall and Dangerous Looking Lady peers down at you from underneath the brim of her hat. But rather than malice, it’s... warmth?

And once more your poor head is a victim of a sharp hit, losing consciousness again. The last bit you see is your father-figure all but being pushed down a hole as he flees the lycans that surrounded him, continuing to look back at you in worry. You shake your head, hoping it conveyed that you wanted him to go.

But now you can’t say in particular that you’re having a bad time, since you’re inside, the fire from the castle’s several hearths keeping the place warm. The Lady of the house introduces you to her daughters. You can’t help but shrink behind her when they all seemingly surround you both.

Lady Dimitrescu only laughs behind a gloved hand. And allows you all to mingle. If you could call it that by being locked away in a spare room. You couldn’t even stop them, they had the ability to lose a physical form by turning into flies. You wished you had some kind of power like that. You don’t hear much from any of them after that. Occasionally you hear the tall woman’s steps around the corridor, but that’s it.

You chew your lip nervously, a bad habit that you thought you had gotten rid of since Louisiana. You can only stare out the window hopelessly, being on a tall floor, the fall would’ve grievously injured you or worse. The smooth brick was not good for climbing. You tried at least attempting to break the door down, but whatever it had been made off was practically impossible to break. (Your poor shoulder still aches from trying to ram it down). Gun shots echoing through the mansion don’t sooth your nerves either, maybe Redfield was here too, either to finish the job he started with-

The click of the lock makes you jump, quickly grabbing a glass vase, hiding behind the door. Your eyes close as you look down, you tremble. Before throwing it all to the wind and just tossing the large vase in an attempt to make a run for the unlocked door. Only to be stopped by a face you thought you’d never see again.

“Dad?” Your voice is raspy, from the lack of use, but you can’t manage say anything else as you’re brought into a tight hug, almost falling to the ground from the sheer relief you had felt seeing him alive. He quickly checks you over, chin in his hand as he inspects you for any obvious injury, quickly hugging you once more. 

“It’s okay, I’m here now,” You notice his hands, bandages bloodier from before. “Let’s find get out of here,” He says with finality and you nod. You carefully take his hand, the one that actually did have all five fingers, giving it a squeeze. Now it was time to escape and find your little sister. 

[river-of-wine]

You know. I’ve never properly been able to articulate how the Baker family makes me feel in my art, so I’m just gonna type it down here because my Madhouse playthrough has gotten me all emotional over them again and they deserve to be talked about just as much as the lords, because they are also Mother Miranda’s victims wether she knew of their existence or not, and wether she bothered to care if she did.

This is mostly about Jack and Marguerite with some Zoe in there for flavour.

We don’t get to see a lot of Jack and Marguerite before he infection (even infected, actually, they’re only in one scene together but that isn’t really them) but what we do tells us a lot. In the Daughters DLC, they’re in a far more stressful situation that you would guess by how they’re acting. Jack has found two unconscious people in a massive shipwreck, one of which is what he believes to be a little girl, and they have that to worry about on top of the storm that has already wrecked part of their property. But Jack and Marguerite manage to keep the mood light. They know how to make each other smile, they know what jokes to tell when the time is right, they had that whole bed and breakfast plan. They’re genuinely such a sweet couple for the small amount of time we do get to see if them, and it’s very intentional that their first REAL scene together as themselves in the Daughters DLC is just them being a sweet ,arrived couple. That’s who they were.

Marguerite was the first to go (and the first to later die, interestingly enough) and Zoe finds her first after the power outage. Marguerite attacks her daughter and Jack intervenes, but even still he’s not hurting her. He could, and he could have been entirely justified in doing so, but all he does is try to hold Marguerite back and tell Zoe to get rope to presumably tie Marguerite up. Jack is a strong guy as we all know, a single stomp from him would’ve ended the game then and there if the mould hadn’t picked up where Ethan left off. Marguerite isn’t as strong as he is even after being infected, her thing isn’t brute strength as much as it is Give Birth To Bug Baby Bodyguards, so he could’ve knocked Marguerite out or caused some kind of physical harm to her to keep her under control. He didn’t, though, and I’m guessing by his line after Zoe leaves the room (“don’t you make me do something I’ll regret”) that he didn’t even try to. The madwoman with the centipede flailing out of her mouth is still his wife. Jack never wanted to hurt his family.

This is the last we and Zoe ever see of Jack before the infection with the exception of the free my family scene with him and Ethan near the end of the main game, but we do hear him resisting. While Zoe is running from him in the Daughters DLC, he’s talking to Eveline with lines like “shut up, you ain’t real!” and laughter that eventually devolves into crying. I’d argue that there’s evidence of this in the main game too. Jack has some interesting voice lines to say the least, but one of them is him telling someone to shut up through grit teeth. Ethan stays impressively silent through the chase sequences with Jack aside from his breathing, so Jack isn’t talking to him. They are the only two people in the main house, so the only other conclusion I can personally draw is that he is talking to Eveline.

Marguerite doesn’t get to make an appearance alongside her husband when he asks Ethan to free his family because she is fully dead, unlike the rest of her family who are either saved (yay Zoe!) or killed off for good in the DLCs. This doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have her own heart wrenching cutscene though! In the Daughters DLC, Marguerite will stop Zoe to give her the key and apologise, saying that she doesn’t know what’s wrong with her and begging Zoe to go as she desperately fights for control. During this interaction, Marguerite strains to tell Eveline “don’t touch her, don’t hurt my family!”

Anyway, moving in from summaries, it’s made pretty clear from these interactions that Jack and Marguerite remember what they do under Eveline’s control. They are fully conscious but unable to do anything about it. Jack actually explains this in his cutscene with Ethan, and the idea of them being entirely aware of what they’re doing but unable to stop it is just so much worse.

Jack remembers drowning Marguerite, he remembers hunting down his daughter, he remembers cutting his son’s arm off, he remembers killing Ethan.

Marguerite remembers attacking Zoe and violently threatening her in the old house, she remembers infecting Jack, she remembers kidnapping Mia.

They both remember every victim, every moulded, every murder. They couldn’t do anything to stop it, but they remember every second.

The Lord’s were victims and they were prisoners, but they had some semblance of free will. Alcina in particular really revels in how violent she can be, going through maidens like the livestock she keeps them as and delighting in how much she knows she can hurt Ethan. Donna and Moreau are exceptions here (Donna especially, Moreau will kill to impress Mother Miranda and doesn’t seem too guilty about his own Cadou experiments though I doubt he fully understood what he was doing) but Heisenberg and Alcina are really just left to their own devices until the ceremony is brought into things.

The Bakers are different. They were never supposed to be a part of this. They were just a family trying to help a little girl. Their kindness is what killed them.

I’d also like to bring up how much pain they must have been in physically as well as emotionally. Jack sounds like he’s in agony during his mutated boss battle, struggling with all of his lines and crying out for his wife. I’ll re,mid you that by now Eveline has entirely abandoned him and Marguerite as her parental figures in exchange for Mia and Ethan, since Mia is her favourite anyway and now she has a father figure to go along with him. Jack is in this weird in between state where he’s not being controlled but he’s too far gone to the infection to ever regain who he was, so his sobbing for Marguerite and his family is very real emotion slipping through.

I know it’s funny to laugh at the bug pussy jokes, I make them too, but I want to take a moment to just think about that. Marguerite’s womb is tearing through her body. Insects are crawling out of her throat and through her raw flesh. Her limbs grow to unnatural lengths. Her womb is a big hive. It’s ripping through her body. The agony that poor woman must have been in, and sounds like she is in during her boss battle, is hard to consider when she’s taking bites out of you and laying bug hives left and right, but it’s heartbreaking when you do take time to consider it.

And Zoe, the unsung hero of Resident Evil 7, had to sit back and watch it all happen. She had to watch her family slip into madness without her being able to do anything and she coped by refusing to acknowledge them as still being her family at all. It’s Joe who has to remind her that they were still her family and that they did love her deep down in their true hearts in the End of Zoe DLC when she’s finally escaped the property. Zoe is stronger than I think most of us give her credit for, she shouldn’t just be looked at as the bad ending girl because she is honestly so much more than that.

I just love the Baker family, they really deserved better.

[penny-nichols]

You know what, screw it. First chapter of Turnabout Wedding Belles because I’m in an emotional slump and need good comments

July 22

Global Studios

Studio One Entrance

A few early guests had already begun to trickle into the studio. Maya and Penny weren't in their dresses yet, as they had a few last minute things to take care of. Penny had already seen Maya in her dress, but it was nice to keep the charade of traditionality up, as traditional as things could be when one of the brides was going to walk down the aisle to a wedding arrangement of the Steel Samurai theme.

"Everything ready?" Penny asked Maya, as they stood behind a curtain they had set up in front of the studio's archway.

"Ummm… I think so? Wait, no, we haven't cut the actual cakes." 

"Right, right. Can the caterer take care of that?"

"Nini, the caterer is for the food, the baker is for the cake. He just came to give us the cakes, then he had to leave."

"That's right. You're the first… person I've married. I don't really know this stuff. Not like you would either, obviously, but, you know… Can Adrian-"

"Adrian's busy with the guests. We'll have to do this ourselves."

"Alright," Penny nodded. "It'll give us good practice for the actual thing, anyways."

They strolled over to studio one, where they had everything that needed to be kept out of sight until later: their dresses, the fake cake, and the real cakes. Penny picked up a knife lying on the table. 

"My hands are always so shaky when I do this," Penny said. Gently, Maya grabbed Penny's hand and guided it down, the large knife making its first incision into the cake. Penny turned around and kissed Maya, like a celebration of the small victory they had achieved. Vaguely, they heard a door open and close, but nothing really registered. It was just them.

They looked back down at the large cakes in front of them and laughed a little. "We can't kiss for every slice, we'd be here forever," Maya giggled.

"Fair enough." Penny began to put the slice on a plate, but suddenly, she dropped it and screamed, cowering into Maya's shoulder.  

"What's wrong, Nini, was there a spider or something?" Instead of speaking, Penny just pointed at the slice of cake on the ground. 

Inside of it was a freshly-severed human finger.

Phoenix Wright was one of the first people at the wedding. He was Maya's best man, along with Iris and Regina Berry as bridesmaids. The other two hadn't arrived yet, but he scanned the small crowd.

Will Powers was there as Penny's best man, and Cody Hackins was the ring bearer. Pearl was the flower girl. A couple of people that Phoenix didn't really know were Penny's "bridesmaids" (if the two burly dudes there could be called bridesmaids, anyway). Trucy was by his side. Adrian Andrews was surveying the scene as well; she had been the wedding planner. In the corner, near the gifts, he saw a familiar head of gray hair.

"Oh no," he muttered to himself, hoping he wouldn't have to interact with the now even older Oldbag. 

"Daddy, who's that?" asked Trucy syruptitiously. She gestured in the direction of the gift table.

"That," Phoenix sighed, "is someone I hoped I'd never see again."

"What did you say about me, whippersnapper?" Slowly, Oldbag turned around, and in a flash she was standing in front of the father-daughter duo. 

"I'm not a whippersnapper!" the lawyer protested. "I'm in my mid thirties!" 

"Ah, how the time flies. It feels like just the other day you were investigating poor Hammer's death." 

*It… doesn't," he replied. "Whatever floats your boat though. So, what brings you here?"

"I was invited, sonny!"

"Which side, the bride's or the… erm, bride's."

"Nichols' side! Although I suppose she's taking the Fey name, so I can't say that for much longer now, can I?" 

"She is?"

"Oh, honestly, don't you perceive anything? She's doodled hearts with 'Mrs. Penny Fey' on everything, even in the guest book." 

"Plus, Auntie Maya's family name is an important part of her heritage!" Trucy chirped. "I don't think she would become Maya Nichols."

"That's one smart kiddo you've got."

Phoenix nodded. "Trucy is my pride and joy." 

"Dad-dy!"

"You are, Truce!"

"Aw, that's sweet, real sweet."

I'm a whippersnapper but Trucy's not? "So, how have you been, Oldbag? It's been… over a decade." He felt older, much older, but not necessarily wiser since his last encounter with her.

"Oh, well, you know. I settled down. I have grandkids now, you know."

"You WHAT?!"

"They're on Tina's side, so I'm their step-Grandma technically, but they're so cute."

"Tina…" That's a girl's name, Phoenix realized. "Ah!!! You like women?!" 

"You could put it that way, yes."

"Bu- but Hammer?! And Juan Corrida?!"

"I'm what they call bi-sexual, sonny!"

"Oh hey!" Trucy exclaimed. "Daddy's bisexual too!" 

Before Phoenix could tell Trucy not to tell that to Oldbag, Penny and Maya came out from behind the curtain. They were running (holding each other's hands so tightly it was as if they were going to fall off, Phoenix noted) and screaming.

"Maya?!" Phoenix asked, instantly concerned. "What's wrong?!"

"Out with it, girls!" Oldbag prompted.

"Someone call the police," Penny said, voice shaking with fright. "There's been a murder." Part 2

[yuzukult]

from home 05 || jjk & reader

title: from home  pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in later chapters word count: 7.5k+ prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: i was really excited to write this chapter and i still couldn’t get myself to make it longer... :( i suck...

please let me know if you’re interested in being tagged! but also let me know if you want to be removed! taglist: @scalubera @strugglingartistno16-2 @taestannie @teresaisla @drumsofheaven @vampgguk @christiandosworld @madjammil @jungkookieyoongs @bananagguknim @shuttheelleup​ @yobroitsjayden​

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Stating that Jungkook was 'on edge' is an understatement.

His palms and armpits were sweaty from the moment he arrived at your apartment to grab you before going to meet your parents, despite the amount of layers of deodorant he has on. He's never had a real relationship before, let alone met any girl's parents, and he can't help but feel something churning in his gut. "Good to go?" You ask, and he merely nods, suddenly bashful because he feels like he is definitely not ‘good to go.’ "Alright, let's head out."

The ride on the bus to your family home is only 30 minutes away, and truthfully, he has never ridden on one before. Walking to yours, Hoseok, and his home were less than 15 minutes, the thought of taking the bus being the absolute last thing on his mind. 

Jungkook isn't exactly sure how he feels about the bus. The constant starting and stopping makes him nauseous; then the unsteadiness of having to hold the bars and handles throughout the vehicle all around seems unsafe. When there's an available seat, you sense his fear, nudging him cautiously, gesturing him to take the seat. "Sit," and granting he wants to offer it to you instead, Jungkook complies to the demand because he swears he's going to vomit. 

After getting off the public transportation that he vows to never take again, you guide Jungkook through a narrow road, he notices the neighborhood here was more concentrated than the ones in Busan; tightly knitted with homes that stacked on top of one another, side to side, and back to back. People hung their clothes on lines that stretch from apartment to apartment, piles of boxes stored on balconies, and plants resting on the borders with owners sitting idle on their porches, fixated on their hobby of people watching. 

Jungkook is known to be popular to the public, from magazines, gossip TV channels, social media posts, and the types continue on to the point that you couldn’t name them all on your own ten fingers. People don't often recognize him on the streets anymore because he's unrecognizable in regular everyday clothes but today, he learns that you're the celebrity.

The people in their homes say their greetings, making comments here and there as you entertain them with a response back, laughter dispersing in the air. There's an old lady that lounges on the steps of her home, a smile stretched so wide that her eyes disappear, all with a blanket laying across her lap, knitting away. "I haven't seen you around, I assume your mother is having a dinner party for the kids? I see you brought a friend!"

"Something along those lines," you retort indirectly, nose snug into your scarf. "You're not staying indoors? It's cold out."

"My husband keeps the heater on the home too high, I sweat like I'm going through menopause like I’m forty all over again, so I much rather be outside here. Anyways, I don't want to hold you up too long, but please come by for Christmas, I do have a sweater I knitted for you as well!"

Then there's a grandfather, another grandmother, and a couple who seems just a bit older than the two of you, and the list just goes on. Despite the whisper exchanges at the supermarket mentioning that you're intimidating, mean, and scary, it's obvious that you aren't or else you wouldn't be swooning the hearts of these strangers.

But there will always be an exception. Especially when the two of you run into a girl who looks close in age, hair dyed blonde with her lips painted fusion red. He could tell how curvy she was with how tight the winter coat hugs her frame, swaying her hips toward your direction as she eyes you both suspicious. "I see our town loser brought a friend."

"Mm," You nod, attempting your best not to amuse her, or else you’d be pouncing on her back by now. "Jungkook, this is Somin. A classmate of mine when I was in grade school." He bows in politeness, zipping up his jacket further while stepping closer to you. "Nice to meet you, Somin."

"Oh, no!" She gasps, a hand on her chest in exaggeration, completely flabbergasted by something he said. "Don't call me that. I go by Bella, since... you know, I am an American now. Being an American deserves the right name."

"You got your citizenship there?"

"No, but, I spent enough time there to know." She grins, shrugging her shoulders. Spent enough time there—you want to call out on her bullshit yet again, knowing she barely spent a month there before dropping out of school and coming back, but it'd be humiliating to mention that with Jungkook standing by, a stranger that she had only met a mere few seconds ago. "You said Jungkook... Are you perhaps, Jeon Jungkook of the Jeon Corporation?"

You furrow your brows. "How do you even know that?"

"Well, daddy invests in their stocks, of course." Fluttering her lashes, she manages to make her presence known to Jungkook as she moves in his direction. "And I saw his pretty little face in a magazine and couldn't help but admire."

Possessively, your hand slips into his pocket, intertwining your fingers together, causing warmth to creep up his neck and into his cheeks. "Well, great to see you, Somin. Jungkook and I have dinner plans with my parents."

"Whoa, wait, dinner plans?" Somin nearly exclaims, shifting aside to block your way. "Also, it's Bella, get that straight, will you? And why is Jeon Jungkook with you anyway?"

"We're dating," Jungkook interjects, clearing his throat. The words are still unfamiliar on his tongue yet he loves to flaunt them anyway. "I'm her boyfriend." He adds, tightening the grip on your hand as if Somin could see it. Her mouth drops open, unable to grasp onto the fact that you were able to land on a hunk like him. If only she knew how much knowledge of basic life skills he didn't have... actually, she might still have the same perspective. "There's no way. This is fake, right? You realize how rude she is, don't you?"

"No, it’s not fake, and well, kind of," Jungkook admits, scrunching up his nose at the thought. "But it's endearing. Wouldn't be as exciting if she wasn't always trying to banter with me, so I don't think I'd have it any other way. People mistake it for her honesty. I love a woman who can be true to herself and genuine with her words."

Just then, your mother peeks out of the front door of your childhood home, waving her arm eagerly, calling out your name. "Well, that's our cue. Thanks, Somin, for congratulating us on our new relationship. Hope you find someone yourself soon!"

"What—" Somin barely finishes her sentence before you're zooming past her, tugging Jungkook along. 

"I didn't know you had so many enemies," Jungkook says jokingly, a playful smile upon his lips. You roll your eyes before squinting them at him, squeezing his hand hard as he winces. "Now you know how little I care for them, watch out because you might become one."

Upon entering the home, Jungkook observes too many things at once. Your mother is in the kitchen, frantically maneuvering through the junk that your family has hoarded over the years, searching for whatever it is she needs for the task at hand. Your father sits comfortably on the couch, feet on the coffee table with a controller in hand, dozing off with a combination of quiet and loud snores escaping from him. As a family home, Jungkook believes it's small considering that you had mentioned previously that you had two other siblings. To think that your parents are still living in the same home they grew up in is amazing to him, knowing that his parents moved at least five times within his youth while you only stayed in one home.

"Uh, hello," He greets your mom, bowing as she places her hands onto his shoulders, shaking him in excitement. She looks almost like a replica of you, except older and much brighter. "You must be Jungkook! It's so great to meet you, I'm so happy that my daughter found someone. She's known to be a bit... cold, so knowing that you were able to warm her up means that you're definitely special!"

"You make me sound like a bad guy." You hiss before your little sister walks in, in the midst of tying her hair up into a ponytail. She resembled your mother than you did, a delighted expression that matched exactly the one your mother had on. "That's because you are, and any guy who dates you seem to run away once they find out." She halts in her steps when she notices Jungkook's face. "Oh my god, you're that model."

"Model?" Your mother reiterates, glancing back at Jungkook and then your sister. "Yeah, yeah, that model in the new edition of Elle. He was in it—he's listed as one of the 10 most desirable men under 30. No flipping way, how'd you even get him to even date you?" She pauses before pointing at Jungkook with a suspicious look on her face as his eyes widened. "Unless... you need her for something. What's she offering? It can't be her body, she's not sexy... is it her brains? You heard about her—"

"Miyoung." Your mother says sternly, interrupting your sister. "Just because Jungkook is a model, it doesn't mean that your sister is incapable of being loved by a man like that."

"Actually—"

"Oh, hey. You must be the boyfriend." A taller male enters the room, his hair messy and lids hooded from waking up barely minutes before. He's still in his pajamas, a loose grey shirt and red checkered pants, but from the outline of his shirt, Jungkook could tell this guy was built. "I'm Daehyun, also known as their big brother. It's nice to meet you." Jungkook is in awe, hand extending to shake with Daehyun's. He knows he's straight, but even as a straight guy he knows a pretty man when he sees one. 

Jungkook was starting to pick up as to why your exterior was so tough. With a younger sister who didn't have a filter to an incredibly handsome older brother, of course as the middle child you had to protect yourself. "Uh, yeah. And that's my little sister, Miyoung, who basically just attacked me for all of my insecurities within a minute. Thanks, kiddo."

"No problem, Unnie." She grins cheekily, seated on the high stool. "Did mom tell you I was back home from college for the weekend? That's why you're here?"

"Something like that," you respond ominously, hanging up your jacket along with Jungkook’s. Despite her preceding interrogation, she’s chewing on her bottom lip skittishly. "More like she forced me to come. Well, she didn't say anything yet but I felt a guilt trip coming so I just decided that I would come instead."

"Typical," Daehyun scoffs, leaning against the wall beside Miyoung. He sneaks a glimpse into the kitchen where your mother secretly runs back into, resuming in her work. "She's been desperate to get us all back together since the two of you moved out. Remind me again why I'm the only one stuck here?"

"Because you can't find a job." Miyoung and you remind him in unison and he frowns. The interaction between the three of you is crystal clear evidence that you guys are related. "Well, geez, hurt a guy, why don't you? See what I have to deal with, Jungkook?"

With some time left until dinner, the four of you crowd at your small dining table, conversing away about updates in your lives. Miyoung is in University an hour away from home, residing there for an easier commute, and Daehyun stays at home with an ambition to find a job that fits his degree. Daehyun still dates from time to time but he admits that he can’t tend to his needs because well, his mother is a room away, and oddly enough, albeit Miyoung babbles on about other things, she’s silent about her love life. Neither Miyoung and Daehyun are able to hold a steady job, he observes, and he’s starting to pick up as to why you’re so adamant about keeping both of yours. Jungkook learns that everything seems to gravitate toward one of the two phrases from your siblings when it comes to finances and they are: “Mom can handle it,” or “I’m going to let Dad do it so I don’t have to.”

From what Jungkook can gather, your siblings seemed to have different outlooks on life compared to you—they still depended on their parents whilst you were already hunting for opportunities of your own before Miyoung’s age so you didn’t have to ask for money.

“Are you still upset with me about what happened a year ago?” Miyoung finally asks you, chewing on her nails nervously. It seems to be something she’s been holding back from you, Jungkook takes a note of the way her eyes were filled with worry. “Of course,” You reply nonchalantly, leaning back against your seat with your arms crossed. “How could I not be? But you’re my sister, so I can’t actually be mad at you.”

Miyoung begins to tear up— glassy gaze with her bottom lip quivering, in spite of the previous aggressiveness she presented when you first entered the house. Before Miyoung could get another word in, your mom comes in with a guilty expression on her face. She calls your name faintly, a pout upon her lips. “Can you and Jungkook go out and grab me a couple things before dinner?”

Jungkook can’t get the question that Miyoung brings up out of his mind. In the middle of an aisle at another one of his mother’s grocery stores, your lips are pursed in thought at which brand of soy sauce would your mom like more. 

“What was Miyoung going on about?” He eventually asks, but he holds his breath in case you decide to sock him for querying you about something so personal. Strangely enough, you open up. “Miyoung fell in love with my ex. He told me they didn’t do anything but he was in love with her, so we broke up. I thought I was going to settle with him but— guess not.”

Jungkook’s eyes expand like a deer in headlights. “Your little sister is dating your ex-boyfriend? And they were in love with each other during your relationship? I would’ve given her an uppercut if I were you— are you seriously still buying the banana milk she asked for?” He’s trailing behind you as you lead him toward the drinks; your face brightening from the lights from the fridges. How could someone who lost their boyfriend to their little sister seem so put together in the first place? Was this was Hoseok was talking about that your men streak was horrendous? 

“Because she’s my little sister. At the end of the day, I want her to be happy.” Throwing a pack into the cart, Jungkook continues to push it while following you, mind still foggy and angry about the situation. Here you were, with a guy who you’d fallen in love with to the point of considering settling down, then finding out he’s been in love with your sister... he feels like this is all a fever dream and isn’t an ounce real. “You’re fucking with me right?”

You look at him with perplexity. “What do you mean?”

“This sounds crazy. You’re serious? Miyoung stole a guy from you and you’re just going to be the bigger person here and not do anything about it?”

“What am I supposed to do? Throw a tantrum? Get in the way of their relationship that is obviously blossoming in a good way?”

Jungkook pauses. Was this what it was like in another family? Or at least yours?

In comparison, he perceives that within his family, outbursts were everything. Getting attention and being recognized for any wrongdoing was immensely important— he knew that if he stole a girl away from one of his brothers, he wouldn’t make it out of the house alive. His mother, including father, would never forget it. The chattering would be heard through the grapevine amongst the housemaids, drivers, and employees of the company. Even news media outlets would dabble a bit into the family drama, adding fuel to the fire. He could never react the way you did, at least, he hopes he would, but realistically speaking, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.

Yet, with you, it seemed simple enough. Sure, your heart was broken, but how were you going to be with someone who didn’t love you back?

“If you love someone, you let them go.” You say calmly when Jungkook doesn’t respond back. “Keeping them around for your benefit doesn’t solve anything. If he wasn’t truly happy with me, I want him to be happier with someone else. And if that person so happens to be with Miyoung, what am I supposed to do?”

“But... you’re not happy.” Jungkook declares with no hesitation. He recalls the time where you felt bad for him for not having the best upbringing, and he’s starting to understand the emotion that ran through you. “I’m happier now,” You concede, placing the last ingredient your mom has on the list for you to purchase, turning your back at Jungkook. “Now that I met you.”

His heart flutters at the comments, and he’s desirous about bringing up the topic of the kiss again. Jungkook resists the urge to because he could tell from the way your silhouette begins to quicken its pace toward the checkout line that you really didn’t want to talk about it. 

When the two of you arrive back at your house, your father is jolted awake. Jungkook greets himself to the elder man who only grins brighter than the sun—something Jungkook is trying to grasp where your grumpiness comes from— and instantaneously directs him to the dinner table where your mom has a ton of side dishes laid out with six place settings for you all.

During the meal, there was nothing but exchanging stories, laughter, and elation that swarms the room. If this was what family meant, Jungkook wanted it. And the more he thinks about it, the more he wants it to be with you.

Nothing is working out for Jungkook.

This week, the pipe in his apartment burst. Something about— it’s winter and when it’s cold, the water freezes within the pipe and it expands the material, causing the pipe itself to burst, he doesn’t quite understand how the whole plumbing system works, but he knows that he can’t use the water in his apartment and has to go to yours and Hoseok’s for the week for a shower until the landlord can get it fixed.

Then, one of the deli guys called off because he apparently had the runs which meant that there was a shift change— Jungkook having to cover since whomever was working that day didn’t have the skills to do it.

Skills? Jungkook curses underneath his breath when he recites that word in his head repeatedly because he cuts his finger on the meat slicer as he winces, calling out your name. Coming to his side, you pull out the first aid kit and force him to sit down on one of the stools, tying elastic on a higher point of his finger to stop the blood from gushing out. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just... I didn’t need to be put here, right? Someone else could’ve done this, I have no idea how to use a slicer.”

“I know,” You coo, wiping some of the antiseptic on the wound as he whimpers at the sudden sting. “The new shift manager panicked, she wasn’t sure what to do since the guy with the actual food preparation license is going to be here a bit late so she put you here. Not exactly the best plan.” After bandaging him up, you wash your hands underneath the faucet as Jungkook slouches in the seat.

Nothing really was going his way.

It doesn’t even stop there. Unexpectedly, his mother calls for dinner but you’re on shift, therefore you wouldn’t be able to attend. He’s tempted to down a glass of whiskey on ice, his signature drink, but when he opens the cabinet in his kitchen, he falters at the image of your face. Would you be disappointed if you saw what he was doing? And Hoseok? What would he say?

Retracting his hand back, he immediately slams the door shut at the thought of the consequences.

Dinner is the usual at the Jeon residence. Father sits at the end of the dining table, the typical beige cloth napkin spread across on his lap while in his usual work attire, glasses rested on the tip of his nose as he’s ready to dive in with a fork and spoon in hand. Mother is settled beside him, pretty as ever and calm in comparison to the hell that’s going to let loose in a couple minutes. The unknown? Who is going to blow up this time and who will they be comparing themselves to?

The answer? Jongseok and Jungkook.

Jongseok is upset to the point that he articulates every word with spit nearly projecting from his mouth to the opposite side of the room. The vein on his temple is stressed to the point that all Jungkook can think about is when it’s going to pop. “Why are you guys always babying Jungkook? You realize the kid is fucking working at a grocery store right? And not just any grocery store, either, but it’s mother’s chain.”

“Okay?” Father retorts, forehead wrinkling in puzzlement. “Isn’t he trying to prove himself worthwhile? Didn’t he find that job himself, despite it being your mother’s chain? He’s paying for his mistakes, learning basic life skills along the way, and even landed himself a serious girlfriend who can hold his hand through these tough times, since, after all, you’re the one who suggested we cut him off. If I’m being honest, I think we should give him access to our funds again.”

A scoff of incredulity comes from Jongseok. He’s a ticking time bomb in this moment; jaw twitching in frustration with the tips of his ears heated red. Even though he’s the target yet again, Jungkook is sober now, mind clear of the fog and the ability to defend himself for once. “I don’t get it. Why are you even mad at me? I’m trying here, right? You’re the one who wanted me to get cut off so desperately— and congrats, by the way, because I did. I had to find a job myself, one I’m not a fan of, and I’m barely making it by. I lost water in my apartment this week, cut my hand on one of those deli slicers, sprained my ankle on my way to work— and that’s only a portion of my bad week. Yet here I am, sitting at the dinner table with people who claim that they love me when you’re here flipping shit at father. What do you want from me?”

“For your name to be completely off the will.” Jongseok finally says what he has been actually feeling unperturbedly, not an ounce of affection in his tone with a gaze that could pierce through Jungkook. “You have nothing to offer to this family. Why we keep you around— I don’t know. Why should you have any portion of our estate and company assets when all you’re doing right now is working at the supermarket. Tell me, Jungkook, why do you deserve to be part of any of this?”

Jungkook hates how childish he’s being, but he feels like he has the right to. The flickering colorful lights and music booming through the speakers of the club are tuning out the words his brother exclaims at his parents, and the amount of alcohol passing through his lips are numbing the pain that tears through his chest. Your face pops up in his head; your laugh, your smile, and the comfort in the underlying messages through your tough love— he wishes that all of that was enough to heal the sting in his heart and fill the hollowness that his family left.

He doesn’t remember any of these people sitting at this table with him, even though they’re hollering in excitement that “Jungkook is back again!” The girl placing a hand on his chest with his arm around her shoulder isn’t you, but he knows that if it was, you’d be so displeased at how wasted he is. Honestly, this feels wrong. Nothing sits right in his stomach and when another pretty gal with her dress hiked up to the point he could see her thong from where he’s on the couch, he’s not even attracted to her. All he could think about was you, and that scowl on your face when he tells you about this night. He could hide it from you but he’s not going to lie to himself— if he wanted to improve for the better, it meant being straightforward and authentic. Jungkook came here to let loose because the events that occurred at the estate tonight was something he wants to forget.

Turning to the girl beside him, his eyes are hooded and vision is blurry when he asks, “What’s your name again?”

When her rosy plump lips open, she says her name but the voice that comes out of it is deep and oddly familiar. “Hyeri?” Why does she say it like a question, and why is her voice so low? Just then, a hand clenches the fabric of his shirt, pulling him up and he meets the proprietor of the response. Hoseok.

Hoseok drags Jungkook’s weak and frail frame out into the alleyway behind the club, fuming to the point that smoke could’ve been whistling out of his ears. “What the fuck are you doing here? And with Hyeri, of all people! I thought I told you to stop fucking around, dude! I-I thought you knew how much she means to me. Out of the people I’ve partied with— you were my actual friend.” He clenches his jaw before Jungkook could even answer, a fist tightening in his hand. “You’re such a fuck up, Jungkook. So much for a friend.” 

Then everything blacks out.

His entire body hurts. His head is pounding, he can barely open one of his eyes, and his legs are so sore he can hardly shift on the bed— on a bed? He doesn’t have a bed. He has a futon but not a bed. Startled, he attempts to sit up against the bed frame, the other eye opening to skim through the room. 

He’s never been in your bedroom before, but the pictures of you graduating college hanging on the corkboard above your desk, concert tickets, Polaroids, and holiday cards thumbtacked beside them is all the evidence he needs to know it’s yours. Jungkook wants a closer look at them, he can scarcely make out the cute little smile on your face with your family in attendance in the picture, but when he puts weight onto his arms, he groans. Seconds later, you’re bursting through the door, out of breath and worry in your eyes. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Voice hoarse, he realizes how dry his throat is and you lean over to the bedside table to hand him the glass of water you had there originally. “Don’t move, idiot. You’re actually really torn up if you didn’t feel it with all that alcohol in your system.” Inviting yourself onto the foot of the bed, Jungkook frowns after he finishes the entire glass, much more dehydrated than he initially thought. “Trust me, it’s gone now. I feel every ounce of pain. What happened? I blacked out.”

“No shit,” you retort harshly, rolling your eyes at him. “You were drunk as hell, but you didn’t black out from that. Hoseok saw you getting all cozy with Hyeri and knocked the shit out of you. What happened, Jungkook? Why were you there in the first place? Did something happen?”

Reading the expression on your face, he fears for the worse but he doesn’t see any hint of dissatisfaction anywhere. There’s no anger, no resentment, no frustration— none of that. Just curiosity smeared across, genuinely worried about his well-being. “Are you upset that you found out I was there?”

“I was mad that Hoseok called me to come grab you, at first, so kind of, yeah. But if you’re trying to figure out if I’m disappointed in you, then no, I’m not. Old habits are hard to kill, so I understand that you’re trying to cope with something. I just want to know why you were there in the first place and why were you getting all lovey dovey with Hyeri—“

“I wasn’t getting lovey-dovey with Hyeri,” Jungkook exasperates, head falling back against the headboard, closing his eyes shut, interrupting before you lead the conversation into a lecture. “She was just some girl that sat down and claimed a spot next to me. I didn’t even know she was Hoseok’s girl.” There’s a pregnant pause in his explanation, and you don’t break off his train of thought. “I... I went because Jongseok called me useless tonight, yet again. It didn’t bother me as much as it did before, you know, before I met you, and it’s probably because I wasn’t intoxicated or the fact that I’m actually trying now and he still thinks I’m useless. He wants me out of the will.”

“He’s jealous that he’s the problematic child now, not you.” Making your way up the bed, you’re seated on top of the covers, settled adjacent to Jungkook. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re way more useful than you had been initially. I usually do the dishes at my parents’ house, mostly because I’m the middle child, but you did it for me instead. I consider that a huge accomplishment from who you were before.”

As much as he hates to admit how warm and fuzzy he feels inside just from that small achievement, it’s a resemblance of the time when he was younger and won an award for being most creative in his kindergarten class. How are you able to lift up his mood so easily by just saying a few words?

“I… is Hoseok really pissed?”

“A bit,” you reply sincerely and apologetically, even though none of this had been your fault. “He’s been in love with her even before I met him. She was all he could talk about, and I guess she finally gave him a shot, only to drop him a month later. I don’t know much about her, but I know she’s a gold digger from the stories he shared.”

Jungkooks face drops when his gaze meets yours. “Have you ever told him that?” You laugh—the melody that practically heals his wounds on the spot. “No, are you crazy? He’s blinded by love, Jeon, and any interference with that, I’m done for, probably cut out entirely from his life. Have you never been in love before?” 

He wants to say that he hasn’t, not until he met you, but you continue without expecting a response from him anyway. “Well, that’s just how he is. You could tell him a billion times that this girl isn’t for him but he’s never going to care about what I say until something actually happens.”

“I really care about Hoseok, though, and I want the best for him.” His doe-brown eyes are glossy, full of cherish for his friend. “And he cares for you too, Jeon. Just give him some time.” Quickly, Jungkook twists away, gaze avoiding yours as he clears his throat a couple times.

“Are you... okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” He says, choking up on his own words. “Hurts a little. Hoseok is strong.”

You furrow your brows. “Hey, look at me.” He doesn’t react. “Jeon,”

“Can... you give me some space?” 

Pulling your lips into a straight line, you contemplate whether or not to listen to his words or go against him. He’s been living in a home full of people yet still feeling alone, with no one to listen to his perspective on things. Maybe it’s time you change that.

Abruptly, you swing your leg over his thighs, hands cupping his cheeks just like you did that fateful night. He swore his heart stopped beating. “What are you—” There’s tears brimming in his eyes, you realize, with some escaping, trailing down his cheek. He sniffles. “You’re crying?” You’re stating the obvious, yet somehow it comes out as a question. “Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

“I’ve never had a friend love me before, a friend who actually liked me for me and only wanted to spend time with me because of who I was, not who my family was. Did I really fuck up with Hoseok?” You frown, thumb rubbing against his cheek to wipe away his tears. Truthfully, you never really knew how to react when someone fell apart like this, but with Jungkook, it felt natural, the comforting. It might’ve been the sunlight peering through the windows of your room that made everything toasty, thawing out your cold heart, or it was just Jungkook. “Maybe. But I doubt he wouldn’t give you a chance to explain yourself though. I mean, yeah, you’re bruised all over because he really beat you up... but, I’m sure this evens things out. Plus, I’m your friend and I love you too.”

He sighs, shoulders plunging with his hands creeping up to your waist unconsciously, tenderly steering you to sit on his thighs. Swallowing at the feeling of his body flattened against yours, you’re attempting to shake your head from the dirty thoughts. Jungkook feels at ease, detecting the words come from your mouth, yet he wants more. He craves for more, especially since that night in Busan and he isn’t sure he can hold himself back anymore.

“I... What happened that night in Busan?” Lifting your weight off him, he only stops you by putting down more pressure to stop your escape. Despite being in an awful lot of pain, he still manages to overpower you in strength. “Please don’t avoid this. If Jongseok didn’t come to our door that night, it would’ve led to something more. I want to know, please, what does it mean?” Cheeks burning, you stare at the wooden headboard behind him, except Jungkook knows your next steps before you do because his finger is already on your chin, guiding your view back onto him. He doesn’t need to say anything because the look he gives you says it all, tell me.

“Okay, okay,” You cringe, the idea of talking about this makes your stomach feel queasy and want to recoil in dread. “White flag. I’ll talk.”

“Enough of this white flag nonsense, just tell me.”

Belatedly gathering enough courage, you spill. Although your heart feels like it’s jumping through hoops from suspense, you realize that you can’t hold yourself back any longer anyway. “I’m... attracted to you, alright? I mean, I’m not sure how I feel about you 100% emotionally, because I still feel like we’re on different pages here, but I feel like I kind of like you? If this goes any further, I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it.”

That’s... it? Admittedly so, Jungkook was hoping for more of a confession, something along the lines of, ‘I really like you, Jungkook’ but he’d have to settle for this. This was definitely a step closer to where he wants to be. “So... you’d date me, that is. There’s still an opening somewhere.”

“I-I mean, I guess so... why?”

“Because well, I can’t stop thinking about that night, and I know that for sure that I like you.” He discloses. “And if there’s even a bit of an opening, I want a shot at it.”

You scoff. “With me? You want an actual shot with me? After spending time with my family, you want to still try to swoon me?” There’s a smile tugging on Jungkook’s lips; there’s a blackish-bluish bruise underneath his eye, the side of his lips red and blotchy and the entirety of his body is either swollen or bruised, and yet, he still endures the pain to be beaming brighter than the stars. “Of course, you met my family, right? Yours is nothing complicated in comparison... well, maybe your sister. But for once, I feel like I belong here, with you, I feel like I’m home. So, will you give me a chance to win you over?”

“Don’t you think you’re rushing this whole thing? This... you thinking you like me kind of thing.”

“Are you going to keep wasting your time?” He blurts, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “You wasted how long with some guy only for him to ditch you for your sister. What about your happiness, and what you want? None of this is fair to you. What if I could possibly give that to you, that happiness? Would you actually give me a chance?”

Sincerely, you didn’t know what the relationship with Jungkook held and what it would mean in the future. But what he asserts is right with the things he repeats in Busan about being selfish for once replays in your head again, and you finally decide to take a shot at it.

Was it the high of saying ‘yes, okay’ to Jungkook or the painkillers he took earlier because when your lips meet with his, he feels like he’s floating in mid-air. Your tongue is wet and soft when it fights with his, and when his hands on your waist pull you in closer, the bulge in his pants isn’t discreet, raging for attention, twitching against your thigh while your fingers knots through his hair tightens in response to your bottom lip suddenly tucked in between his teeth. The room feels steaming hot, especially when your hips start to move against his, emitting a groan from him as hand trails down to your ass to give it a harsh squeeze in consequence. His jeans from last night are still on and they’re straining in his crotch uncomfortably.

This is escalating so fast—just as quickly as his heart is beating in his chest, almost popping out of his chest cavity. Your natural scent is intoxicating, clouding up his mind to the point that he doesn’t think he needs the alcohol to forget the pain his family has caused him anymore, because you’re mending the pieces of him together. Your hands trail down to his neck, tugging him closer before they wander down to his biceps, giving him a gentle squeeze that releases a wince from him. 

Just as abrupt as the kiss, you pull away with a concerned and panic expression, with your mouth open in aghast. “Oh my god— I forgot you were still injured—” As you’re trying to move back, you stumble on his legs and collapse onto the floor.

“What— hey, are you okay?” He says, breathless as he leans over to check on you sprawled on the floor. Swiftly hopping back on your feet, he observes you clearly with your hair disheveled, cheeks tinted pink, and swollen lips. There’s a look of achievement on his face from the sight of a disoriented you. “Uh, um, yeah. I-I’m good,” Flustered, you push a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m... I’m going to get dinner ready for the both of us, uh, I’m going to leave you to it,” you’re awkwardly gesturing his crotch before rushing out the room and slamming the door shut.

He can only laugh at your reaction. At least his week wasn’t that bad after that kiss, right?

Jungkook stirs awake from the sound of chatter in the living room, voices familiar that he can associate them as yours and Hoseok’s. Unexpectedly, he sounds melancholic, the muffled sounds from your walls, almost to the point of whimpering mixed with your soft assuring words. He figures he should get a closer perspective of this, maybe enough where he can make out what the two of you are conversing about.

He’s not far off from shrieking when he angles his leg too far, but he bites his bottom lip in prevention of any sound, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the torment. Careful, he reiterates like a mantra in his head, chanting it until it’s engraved in his brain. When he reaches the door, he opens it slowly and just barely, to peek out and see the scene unfold before him.

“She told me that they didn’t do anything,” Hoseok exclaims, face in his hands as his elbows are resting on his knees. “That she chose to be there, and Jungkook was just lounging on the couch. That if anything, she wanted him to fuck her. Isn’t that ridiculous? How could she say that?”

You’re seated on the armrest of the loveseat, hand rubbing against Hoseok’s back soothingly. “I know, Hobi, I know. You might’ve been the right one for her, but at the end, she wasn’t the right one for you.”

“I could’ve changed,” He emphasizes, spinning his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are crimson and swollen from his tears, restlessness fills in those orbs. “I love her so much.”

“Well, and you love Jungkook. He’s in the other room, beat up and crying because he thought he lost you. He didn’t do anything wrong and you tore him to shreds! Earlier when we were making—“ You pause, clearing your throat when you realize where you were leading the conversation, Hoseok raising a brow in confusion at the action. “Earlier, I mean, I went to check on him and he was whining in pain. You really hurt him, Hoseok, and not just physically either. He’s both hurt emotionally and physically.”

He frowns. “I mean, I guess... I guess it wasn’t his fault.”

“There’s no guessing, idiot. It wasn’t. He was honestly too wasted to even realize that she was sitting beside him. Poor kid reeked of alcohol that I almost made him sleep on the porch. But he would’ve gotten robbed so... I let him stay in my room and I slept on the couch.” Jungkook glowers at the thought of you struggling to find comfort on the small sofa, wishing you would’ve chosen to sleep by him instead.

“Can I... talk to him?” Hoseok finally asks, looking down at his hands in embarrassment. His knuckles were red, contused from the one-sided fight he had with Jungkook the night before. “I fucked up, and I’m sure he thinks that he really fucked up.”

You hum for a moment before an idea pops into mind. “How about... you go out and get takeout? I’ll check on him, prep him for your appearance, and then you guys can hash it out?”

You don’t take no for an answer, pushing Hoseok out the door shortly, and a soft smile tugs on the edges of Jungkook’s lips before he lightly shuts the door and tip toes back into bed, pretending to be deep in slumber.

When you come into the room afterwards with a wet rag in hand and a bucket of warm water, his heart swells. Patting the towel against his wounds while seated at the edge of the bed, he hastily has a hand wrapped around your wrist, shocking you in the midst of your activity. “Oh— you’re awake?” He gingerly kisses the palm of your hand, heat clogging your face . “Yeah. And, thank you. For everything. I owe you a lot.”

“I—uh, maybe you’ll reciprocate this for me as well, one day?” You respond dubiously. “But... you also might not know how to do it so—“

“Are you still trying to make jabs at me after I made such a sweet comment?”

“Well, I’m just being honest, do you even know how to take care of another person?” You shoot back. “You couldn’t even get yourself back home, I had to be called and drag you back here myself, and my god, you’re heavy—“ He hauls your arm closer, dragging you along with it until your nose is inches away from his. “Can I kiss you again? I miss the way your lips feel with mine.” Even when he says the words in a volume that’s barely a whisper, his breath fans against your skin harshly, causing goosebumps to crawl up your spine.

The door pounds shut and before you can tear away from Jungkook’s hold, Hoseok is already standing in the threshold of the bedroom, mouth wide open in shock before it immediately fades into a mischievous grin. “What did I tell you, Kook? Which one was it first? You or her?”

[everlarkficexchange]

Just Close Your Eyes, You'll Be Alright

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 154: Soulmate au where your soulmates injuries and scars show up on your body tinted in their favorite color. Katniss through the years as she discovers new marks, pondering what it could possibly be, finally figuring out that her soulmate is being hurt way too regularly and in very specific places. Do her parents figure out Peeta is being abused? How do they find and “rescue” him? Or does Peeta live his whole childhood being abused before turning 18? Does he runaway? How do he and Katniss find their way to one another? [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone / @peetamewllark]

Teen and up

AU- Modern setting (but like without cell phones). One Shot. 

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Language, child abuse and neglect, injuries, implied (non-descriptive) underage smut. Nobody dies! Unbetaed. 

-lyrics of Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift, Feat. The Civil Wars - Songs from District 12 and Beyond (2012)

Author’s note: Thank you to @lovely-tothe-bone for her inspiring prompt and to the organizers of EFE, for bringing the challenge back so faithfully, you ladies rock! 

KPKPKPKP

“Look at her!” Papa screeched at the policeman, lifting the back of my favorite pink polka dotted shirt. “You have to do something about this, Sheriff Cray!” Papa demanded, angrily.

  The man just watched, like he didn’t care. Then sat back down lazily, “There’s nothing much I can do, to be honest. Unless you can produce the child sporting the actual bruises, my hands are tied.” Said the policeman.

  I had no idea what the problem was, I felt fine, but ever since my 5th birthday, every time Mama helped me out of my day clothes for my bath, she wept and held me close to her chest, whispering “No child deserves to be treated so poorly,”

  Papa too always made a face and looked sad and angry when Mama showed him my back after my baths. 

  It was funny how bath time could easily be my favorite time of day, but it made the grown ups upset somehow. I just liked that mama would rub ointments on my back, bottom and thighs, carefully and without fuzzing about the time she was spending away from my baby sister, Primrose. Is not that I didn’t like Prim— I thought she was as lovely as a doll— I didn’t mind sharing mama’s snuggles with her either, but it was nice to just feel mama’s warm hands caressing me to sleep every now and then. 

  Either way, I wished someone would tell me what was so wrong with my behind that had the grown ups acting so weird. 

  They were starting to scare me, really.

  “There has to be something we can do! There are genetic tests to determine matchless people, couldn’t we use the same technology to find the markers matching my daughter’s counterpart to identify him?” 

  “Mr. Everdeen, I’m not a geneticist. I wouldn’t know about anything like it… and who’s to say we could use it to find your girl’s soulmate? Then we what? It’ll open an unknown Pandora’s box situation, people would start tracking soulmates illegally or something less than honorable. It’ll certainly set a precedent we cannot foresee the ramifications of!”

  “You’re telling me that there’s some kid out there, somewhere, getting beaten week in and week out, and you’ll do nothing about it?! You’ll allow the abuse to continue uninterrupted?” 

  The man nodded slowly, “You said it yourself, Mr. Everdeen. The kid’s ‘out there, somewhere’, we don’t even know if he’s local, or his age. In any case, I only have jurisdiction over District 12, and I can’t very well launch a country wide investigation on an alleged case of abuse, specially if  we have no victim,”

  “But my daughter’s soulmate is suffering! Who knows what permanent damage this poor child may have as an adult! It’s my daughter’s future we’re talking about!”

  “Most unfortunate, sir. I don’t wanna seem unsympathetic, Mr. Everdeen, but unless your little girl can figure out a way to communicate with her soulmate, find… an address— at the very least a name— there isn’t anything we can do to help.”

  Papa huffed, his nose flared, “Fine. Thank you for your consideration…Sheriff.” Papa put his big ol’ hand on my shoulder and guided me away, “Come on Katniss, it’s time to go home.”

  I looked up at Papa and reached for his hand. I smiled at him, “It’s okay, Papa. Mama says to give grumpy people time, and they may be nicer the next time we talk to them.”

  Papa smiled at me, but it didn’t crinkled the corner of his eyes, like real smiles did, “That’s nice sweetie… although, that usually only applies to people just waking up from naps, like you and me,”

  I giggled when he picked me up and tickled my tummy. 

  Papa kept talking to grown ups about my back, but nothing was ever done about it. 

  ———————-

I was 11 when our world pitched upside down. 

  Papa was one the foramen on shift at the town’s coal mine when the earth shifted and an entire tunnel collapsed. 

  Prim and I were in school when the sirens went off. There’s nothing worse than to hear the end of your world being advertised so loudly and without mercy. 

  I grabbed my sister’s hand and rushed to the mines; we found our mother there, clinging to the yellow tape cordoning off the site. 

  I should’ve known something wasn’t right when I was the one seeking Mama out, trying to comfort her, instead of the other way around. It was the first time the concept of a soulmate stopped being an abstract notion, and became a reality, because my mother stopped functioning altogether the moment she realized Papa had been hurt.

  I saw how much a soulmate could affect you. It wasn’t only the marks on the skin— those came without conscious pain— it was the fear of knowing that someone you loved was hurting, sometimes badly, and not being able to do anything about it. 

  Mama’s left leg started glowing pink from the shin down at first, and the color began to shift to a darker red the longer Papa laid underground. 

  Unbeknownst to us, my father had been pinned under fallen rock and dirt after pushing a man to safety, risking his own life. The sharp end of a pickax perforated Papa’s leg in the cave-in. The pickaxe worked as a plug, keeping him from bleeding out while he waited for the rescue crew to reach him. 

  Papa laid on the floor of the very last lift to surface with rescued miners. He was unconscious. Had suffered extensive blood loss. The lone medic in the rescue crew couldn’t fix him up right away, but Mama was a nurse, and like a switch flipping on, she ripped off the bottom of her skirt, and tied a tourniquet around my father’s thigh, saving his life at the cost of his limb. 

  My father lived, but his leg had to be amputated. 

  He couldn’t work in the mines anymore, and what little money we got as compensation from his injuries, were put into paying off the mortgage, because Papa decided that having a roof over his family’s heads was far more important than having a leg. 

  The rub was, a roof didn’t fill our stomachs or put a coat around Prim’s shivering shoulders. Mama put a hold on her nursing career, obsessing over Papa’s care, despite his protests. Someone had to pick up the pieces, and that someone turned to be me. 

  I started selling everything I could carry out of the house in my arms: tools, kitchen appliances, small furniture, etc. But we never had many possessions to begin with, so my wares ran out soon, and I turned to our closets for their meager treasures.

  I sold my parents best clothes, along with my sister’s winter boots that didn’t fit her anymore. I looked at my own shoes with longing, but put them into Primrose’s shoe rack, deciding I could manage with Mama’s boots, if I stuffed them with newspaper. Mama never left the house anyway. Neither did Papa for that matter, but he wasn’t dead, just convalescencing, so I left him a pair of footwear just in case, and sold his work boots and his Sunday loafers. 

  The day I was down to the last pair of clothing, we had been slurping on mint tea for the third day in a row from a few old leaves I found in the very back of the pantry. It was the last of our food, besides Papa’s bland diet, but I refused to let on on how precariously stocked we were, until absolutely necessary.

  But, nobody wanted the hand-me-down baby clothes I had for sale, nor the slightly beaten stroller I was pushing around with my ‘merchandise’. 

  Icy cold rain, soaked me to the bone. I was so tired and downtrodden, I ran to the first awning I found, unwilling to go back home to Prim’s sunken blue eyes and chapped lips, asking for something to eat, while my hands were empty. 

  I tripped and fell face first on the umbrella stroller, breaking it irreparably and soiling the few onesies I’d been trying to sell. 

  With my wares ruined, and winded by a sharp pain shooting through my elbow, I limped towards a scraggly apple tree a few feet away. I recognized the place as the alley behind the town’s bakery, just by the smell alone. 

  I cupped my elbow, wondering if I’d broken it or merely banged it up? That’s when I saw the dumpster. 

  Big ugly thing, dirty and smelly. I climbed a wooden crate to dig for anything edible inside, but before I could lift the lid, a screeching voice shouted at me.

  “Get out of there, Seam brat!” 

  I jumped off the crate, startled, and cowed behind the dumpster when I saw the baker’s grumpy wife sneering at me from the warmth of her kitchen’s back door. 

  A boy about my age— I recognized him as one of my classmates from school— peeked his towheaded face around the woman, and although they were a good five yards away, I could see his blue eyes widened as he took me in. The boy slipped back inside, as his mother spewed threats of calling the police on me and whatnot.

  I started debating whether I wanted to trace back and drag my broken stroller over; pretend I was merely trying to dump it in the garbage, while inspecting the trash for food… but the baker’s wife was nicknamed the Witch by all the neighborhood children for a reason. 

  Before my mind was made, a loud, metallic bang resonated into the street from inside the bakery. Yelling ensued, then the sound of a meaty hand against a small face. 

  A few seconds later, the witch was chasing the boy out the back door, “Toss it in the trash, you stupid creature! Nobody will pay money for burnt bread anyway!” 

  The boy scurried by with his head down. 

  My eyes stuck on the bread in his hands, was probably the reason I missed the shiner under his eye. He stopped right in front of the dumpster, but instead of throwing the ruined loaves in, he tossed them in my direction. 

  I didn’t wait around to ask if he meant for me to grab them. I just scooped them up and fled like a bat out of heck. 

  When I got home, Mama gasped in horror. She grabbed me by the shoulders and pressed me to her chest. “Oh no! It’s getting worse. They don’t even care to hide the bruises anymore!” 

  Mama lathered my face with all the medicinal herbs she had at hand, while apologizing profusely for abandoning me and Prim to our own devices. She vowed to find a job, and to take better care of us. 

  “No child should ever suffer like this!” I couldn’t tell if she meant Prim and I, or whoever my soulmate was.

  Mama interrogated me about my whereabouts and how I came upon the bread in my arms, but she seemed to rest easier after a while. 

  When I was finally able to look at my face in the mirror, I was horror struck by the deep orange bruise swelling under my eye. It took three days for the bruise to go away completely even with mama’s careful fingers.

  Coincidentally, the baker’s son didn’t show up to school for the next four days. By the time he did, I had lost any confidence in myself to go up to him and thank him for the bread that fed us for a few days; the loaves were perfect! Only the crust had been charred, but I had a hunch the boy knew that when he threw the bread to me; I was also convinced he burned the bread on purpose, I was just too chicken to ask him why? Which made it even harder to hold his gaze when we crossed each other in the school hallways. 

  All I knew was that because of the selfless actions of the boy in my year at school, my mother seemed to wake from her single minded obsession. The boy with the bread gave our family a sense of hope, despite the fact that it would take some time for Mama to find work and produce enough money for the family. Papa’s medical needs had to be met as well, and he was due a new leg. 

  While those thoughts churned in my head, my eyes focused on a bright yellow bloom across the school yard. The first dandelion of the season! I picked the cheerful blossom, and the idea on how to feed my family until Mama was back on her feet, came to me. 

  After school, I took Prim’s hand and a clean bucket in the other; together we scoured the yard and the woods nearby for all the dandelions we could fit in the bucket. That night, we gorged ourselves on dandelion salad, and the next day, I pulled from under my parent’s bed, the only thing of value we had left in the house, Papa’s hunting bow. 

  “Are you sure you can handle it, pumpkin?” My father asked, watching me carefully.

  “You taught me how to do it,” I said, trying to hide my nerves.

  “I taught you with a smaller bow,” he pointed out, “why don’t use yours?”

  I shouldered the heavy bow, and took a few loose arrows in my hand, “I sold it. These are all we have left now,”

  After a handful of days practicing, I actually shot  something worth eating. Seeing my mother’s blue eyes pop in surprise when I dropped the dead rabbit on the table, was priceless. 

  ——————-

  One early morning, right before summer break, I happened across another hunter… a trapper, to be precise. 

  A lanky, scowling boy, with three fat bunnies tied to his belt, and a fourth hanging in the air by a simple— yet elegant— wire snare. 

  I’d seen his traps before, his prey with their dead eyes and lolling tongues, just high enough off the ground to keep other animals from taking off with them. Papa told me that hunter etiquette was to be observed; if I happened across a trap that wasn’t mine, I was not to touch it, out of respect for my fellow hunters. That still didn’t discourage me from looking! After all, the snares looked like works of art, and I had no idea how to set any on my own.

  “Stealing is a punishable offense, you know,” Snapped the boy, and suddenly I realized just how tall he was. 

  From up close, I could see the beginning of some stubble under his chin. 

  “I wasn’t gonna take it…” I stepped away from the twitching bunny, with my hands raised in surrender. “Admiring your work, that’s all. By the way, I’m Katniss Everdeen, what’s your name?” I asked, trying to be friendly. 

  “Name’s Gale. Hawthorne. So… you know how to use the thing hanging from your back, Catnip, or is that just for show?” He practically bumped me onto my butt, stepping passed me while pulling a knife from his belt to cut his kill down. He turned to watch me, smirking. “That thing looks bigger than you, are you sure you can lift it up?”

  I scowled at him, wondering if he was expecting to see me squirm or something. I was smaller than the average 12 year old, but I was fast and scrappy. 

  “My name is KatNISS. I can shoot my own food thank you very much,” I held my bow aloft and moved so he could see my quiver full of arrows, “my weapons aren’t props or fakes,” I said, haughtily.

  “Yeah, well, it still looks bigger than you,”

  I rolled my eyes, fed up. Any other time I’d meekly shy away, and let him be; but I was feeling stubborn and confrontational, so I pulled my bow, nocked an arrow and let it fly, all in a fluid motion. 

  Gale gaped with a hint of fear in his gray eyes. 

  I felt smug and satisfied. 

  I wasn’t aiming at anything in particular, I just wanted the obnoxious boy to shut it, but by a stroke of luck my arrow pierced a falling leaf, and imbedded itself deep into the knot of a gnarly looking tree trunk. 

  “Wow! That was amazing, Catnip!” Gale said in awe. 

  “It’s Katniss… I’m okay, my father was better,” I said, puffing my chest a little, “I haven’t managed stealth yet, not like Papa before the accident, anyway. He doesn’t hunt anymore.”

  Gale frowned. “Was your dad in the cave-in?” He asked grimly.

  I nodded. 

  “So was mine. He almost didn’t make it.”

  “Same.”

  He just stood there, staring at the ground for a moment, then I tried to play cool, “Hey, I’d be willing to spare some shooting lessons, in exchange for some snaring techniques,” 

  Gale watched me, intently. He finally nodded and stuck his hand out for me to shake, “Deal!” 

  I smiled. Papa always said that good hunting partners were hard to find, and while I didn’t want a new hunting partner— I already had my father!— I could always exchange knowledge with a fellow hunter and improve my game. 

——————-

Papa was fitted with a basic prosthetic leg. He couldn’t run or swim with it, but having the ability to walk without crutches gave him a “new lease in life”, as he called it. 

  He found work doing odd jobs for Haymitch Abernathy, a hermit drunk, with more money than he knew what to do with, and no family to spend it on. The man needed someone to talk to every now and then, and seeing as he and my father were close in age, they developed a strange rapport between them. 

  Still, Papa wasn’t completely confident with his fake leg, no matter how many physical therapies he attended; he still walked with a pronounced limp. Yet, he always had a word of comfort for Mama. 

  My mother often blamed herself for Papa’s disability. 

  He’d tell her that she did the right thing, that it was thanks to her torniquete he was still alive, and she should never doubt her own healing skills. But every now and then, my mother would catch a glance of her permanently grey skinned leg, and silent tears would slide down her exhausted, pretty face.

  By then, I was old enough to know that the soft orange marks hidden under my clothes, meant a kid somewhere in Panem, probably my age, was getting beaten on a regular basis. It was sad to think about, but I’d grown so used to the marks, they felt like a distant happening without a meaningful connection to me. The bruises were there… just shy of a shirt sleeve, or around mid thigh, where they could be concealed by shorts; the way I saw them, they were like oversized freckles that came and went. A nuisance. That’s why watching my mother weep over her shadowy leg, was always unnerving and a little odd. 

  Was I supposed to despair the same way she did over my own soulmate marks? Was I broken or heartless if I didn’t feel as strongly? 

  Until I saw my mother’s grief over her soulmate’s leg, it didn’t register to me just how much the orange bruises were supposed to affect me. 

  I started to think if I wasn’t any better than the person dispensing the punches.

  One day, I was leaning on my parents bedroom door, watching Mama applying soothing oils to her gray leg with the utmost love and care.

  “Why do you rub so much medicine on your leg? It doesn’t seem to be bringing back your normal color,” I asked, staring where her fingers massaged into her flesh. 

  Mama stopped and called me over, to stand on her side of the bed. 

  “Papa is fast asleep, do you see?” She pointed out, kindly.

  I looked past her shoulder, where my father was sprawled on the mattress on his stomach, dead to the world. 

  I nodded.

  Mama smiled, “Do you remember all we’ve told you about soulmates? I’m sure they’ve taught you at school other stuff as well,” 

  Again, I nodded, just a little puzzled. “Soulmates have a very strong bond. They can’t feel when the other hurts, but they can see the marks, tinted in their favorite colors. That’s how we identify our soulmates, because we match and they can see themselves reflected back.” 

  “Exactly.” Said my mother, beaming. “Now, your papa and I are soulmates, and we love each other very much. When Papa’s leg was separated from his body, my body reflected that loss, despite still retaining my own leg. We match. The one thing most people don’t seem to realize, is that the connection goes both ways. I may not feel the physical pain Papa does, but I can still do things to my leg to help him feel better.

  “For example, when he feels phantom itches, I scratch and his itching sensation goes away. When he can’t fall asleep because he’s uncomfortable without his leg, I massage lavender oil on mine, until he relaxes and goes to sleep. Everything I do to heal my body, and take care of it, helps my soulmate feel better.”

  “Is that why you put lotions on my marks? To help my soulmate feel better?” 

  Mama’s lips thinned out; she didn’t like talking about the orange marks on my body. 

  “Katniss,” she said very seriously, “I tend to your bruises because I love you. I worry about your soulmate, because I love you. I try to keep you as healthy and happy as possible, because that will help your soulmate heal faster… because I love you. I can cure your soulmate’s body through yours, but I cannot protect his heart, mind, or feelings. Right now, you both are too young to feel the pull of your bond, but one day, when your bodies have matured, you’ll have this… yearning, to find one another, and then, I just hope, whoever your soulmate is, knows we tried to help.”

  I cocked my head, “Should I be sad every time new marks show up?”

  Mama inhaled a deep breath, “We should feel sad every time a child is mistreated, darling, no matter how we’re related,”

  From that day on, I paid close attention to every child in my class for bruises matching mine. I also kept pomades and tinctures in my school bag, in case I ever saw another kid getting hurt. I wouldn’t say I started to develop deeper feelings for my soulmate after that, but I did feel deeper empathy for my classmates… I just couldn’t stomach big injuries, gore or vomit, but smaller cuts and bruises… those I could manage. 

————————

“Silver Anderson figured out her cousin was dating her soulmate!” A girl in my year was telling a cluster of other 15 year-old girls in the locker room. “Do you remember how Silver has been wearing a turtleneck for the last two days with this darned awful heat?”

  The other girls hummed their yeses. 

  “Well, is because Silver’s soulmate had a hickey on the throat, given by Silver’s cousin, who was his girlfriend or whatever. But apparently the cousin went over to visit Silver with her boyfriend, and one look at the guy’s neck, and Silver recognized the mark!” 

  There were gasps all around. 

  It wasn’t rare to hear of soulmates having relationships with other people before finding each other, but it was almost unheard of a relative dating somebody’s soulmate so close.

  I finished tying up my shoelaces, and started rebranding my hair, making a mental note to double shampoo, to get all the sweat out.

  “What an idiot! Who gets hickeys from their ‘whiles’?” Snorted somebody. 

  I wasn’t much for gossip, but even I had to agree. 

  ‘Whiles’, weren’t permanent romantic interests, they were just to pass the time while waiting to find your soulmate. ‘Whiles’ were people to satisfy ones curiosity about dating and that kind of stuff, with no strings attached or substance; ‘whiles’ had a bad connotation associated with. 

  “Oh, the boy had never gotten one mark in his body that wasn’t his, so, he assumed he didn’t have a soulmate, and the cousin has already been confirmed to be a matchless.”

  A big “Oh!” Swept the room. 

  Matchless were born without a soulmate, which meant they could choose to be with whoever they wanted as long as they were matchless as well, or with nobody at all. 

  Sometimes I envied their freedom to choose, but other times I felt a sense of safety, knowing there was a person somewhere in the world meant just for me and me to them. 

  Soulmates were genetically evolved to complement one another, but some just wanted to experiment before settling down. Lately, though, matchless births were growing in number, and that upset people for whatever reason, as if the freedom of choice was scary or a curse, then again matchless were usually whiles and those were looked down on. 

  “That’s awful!” Said a girl.

  “I knew Silver’s near freakish obsession with keeping her skin pristine and hidden would bring her issues finding her soulmate someday,” Declared another.

  “I don’t think she wanted to find him,” whispered someone else.

  “Oh well, they did find each other! You can’t hide from your destiny. That’s just silly!”

  “Either way, I feel bad for the cousin, because apparently she and Silver’s soulmate were talking about marriage, since they thought they were both matchless.” Informed the first one. 

  I lost interest in the conversation when it turned speculative, and stood up to shove my P.E. uniform into my locker. 

  Someone suddenly called, “Everdeen, how about those orange blooms on your arms?” 

  My eyes widened, and immediately, I dropped my arms, pulling my sleeves as far down as they would go to cover my soulmate’s private marks.

  “Oh… um… yeah. My mother thinks my soulmate might be an athlete,” I stuttered; Mama had only said such a thing in passing once, when a couple bruises appeared that didn’t match the usual ones. “Also, he seems to work with his hands. Lots of nicks and scrapes.” I wiggled my fingers in front of me. That much was true, my soulmate probably wore those marks freely.

  “Oooh!” A girl, Delly Cartwright, reached to take a closer look. “Could be a carpenter. Or a locksmith? Maybe a farmer!”

  “It could be the blacksmith’s son! Doesn’t Silver have an unmarried brother?” Asked another girl.

  “Yeah… a kid like 10! Ugh, Everdeen, I really hope he’s not your soulmate… can you imagine being so much older than your soulmate?!” Interjected the same girl that spotted my bruises. 

  I scowled. Age was a stupid thing to complain about. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to have an age gap between soulmates… my father was six years older than my mother, and Mrs. Sae from the Soup Corner at the market, was a handful of years older than her soulmate. 

  Still…

  “No. My soulmate is most likely my age. I’ve gotten his marks my whole life,” I shrugged, absently rubbing my arm, where the brand new bruise appeared that morning. 

  “Oh… at least that’s something. Knowing that your soulmate isn’t so much younger than you, and that he might at least have an apprenticeship somewhere,”

  “Right,” I said, turning away, wondering if it was awful of me to wish for a boy who never got marks on his body, like Silver’s pristine skin? At least that would mean my soulmate was safe and treated fairly. 

———————-

Papa and I shared many qualities. I inherited his coloring: olive skin, gray eyes, dark, straight hair, our penchant for singing mountain ballads, and the same quickening of the blood when we got a kill during hunting. Prim favored our mother more closely, with their fair skin, blonde wavy licks and blue eyes, they also were more skilled as healers and more soft-hearted towards animals. 

  The day Prim brought home a half dead cat, riddled with fleas and missing an ear to be patched up and adopted into our family, my first instinct was to drown the orange pelt and be done with it, but Prim got upset and worked up, and I just couldn’t stomach her cries over what I considered to be the world’s ugliest cat… his face was flat, like it’d been smashed against a wall…

  It took a long time to calm my sister down, and Papa made me pinky promise that I wouldn’t kill the fur sack and pretend it ran away, which I only did reluctantly, because I loved my sister and didn’t want her to be crossed with me. 

  Papa asked me to walk with him into the woods, afterwards, which I did readily. 

  Before he lost his leg, we used to go hunting all the time; everything I knew about hunting and foraging, I learned from him. But after losing his leg, we’ve only gone to the woods to hike and get him used to his prosthesis in the uneven terrain. 

  It was good exercise for him. The fresh air seemed to lift his spirits too. 

  We didn’t hunt together anymore. Papa’s tread wasn’t feather-like the way it used to be, prey scattered away before we even saw it.  

  It was alright. We enjoyed being out there together, and he still had lots to teach me about edible plants. Sometimes he’d find one of his old spiles, and then it would hit me: all his knowledge would’ve been lost if he’d died in that cave-in. I would’ve never known where to look for those spiles; I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to harvest sap and turn it into syrup. 

  Sometimes, I had to sit down and catch my breath when those thoughts knocked the wind out of me. 

  I was having one such moment, when out of the blue, my father spoke in a low, calmed tone. 

  “There’s a new chief of police,” he said while sitting on a log, next to me. 

  “I heard.” I wasn’t trying to be snippy with him, but every time a new chief or sheriff was appointed to our district, Papa wanted to run back into the precinct, and demand they look for my soulmate. 

  Appealing to the police never led anywhere. It didn’t matter if they had new staff, they always gave us the same spiel: can’t investigate an abuse case without a victim. They couldn’t go looking for a person without a name or an address. 

  After a while, one just started feeling like it was an impossible task, to help one child feel safe. 

  Papa sighed. “We could try ourselves. I’ve been saving some money, and we could—“

  “What? We could what?” I snapped. “We could go door to door visiting every little town in Panem until we find the bruised up mutt matching me?” I was at the verge of tears. 

  Mama said that once my body was matured enough, I’d start feeling the pull. Well, I kinda felt it, calling desperately. It started around my 14th birthday, when I started having a regular cycle, and puberty was at its summit. 

  First, I was curious about my other half and began cataloguing all the soulmate marks I could see easily. Suddenly I had whole maps of my hands and arms, and legs. Mama suggested I keep track of my hidden marks too, just in case. The curiosity persisted and evolved into an incessant wondering: where was he? How was he getting along? How could I help him protect himself? 

  “Haymitch may have a way, sweetheart. He knows people, and he likes you… he says you’ve got spunk,” Papa smirked.

  I’d met Haymitch Abernathy countless times. He was rude and sarcastic. I usually responded to him in kind, earning myself a host of reprimands from my parents— although Papa still couldn’t hide his pride, despite trying his hardest. 

  “What would he know about soulmates anyway?” I muttered.

  Papa shook his head, standing up, “Haymitch lost his girl, mother and brother all at once during a special outing. There was a car crash. Haymitch was badly hurt, but survived. His family didn’t. His soulmate was 16, so was him. The government paid him excessively for damages and the loss of his soulmate, because it was proved the city had skimped on roadside safety that caused the accident. But money didn’t fill the void of losing his loved ones. Haymitch never recovered. 

  “He told me once that losing a soulmate is akin to drowning. Except you’re still breathing without filling your lungs with oxygen…” Papa picked up the bucket we brought to collect sap, and smiled sadly at me. “Katniss, I may be exaggerating by hounding the police about your soulmate, but sometimes I worry that if we don’t find that kid soon, you could very well share Haymitch’s fate. Believe me when I say that I’d do anything in this world, to keep that from happening to you.” 

  I turned 16 that spring.

  I started carrying a small mirror on me, to try and look over my shoulders into places I couldn’t reach, obsessing over every little mark that sprouted anew on my back. 

  I wasn’t sure if the all consuming watching, and the doubts that kept me up at night, not knowing what was being done to my soulmate, wondering if he’d survive another day, was the pull Mama talked about, or simply terror at becoming the next Haymitch Abernathy. Either way, I became more vigilant for injured teens around me, but a sinking feeling in my gut started nagging at me, that my soulmate was an expert at hiding in plain sight by now… how would I ever find him if he was as adept at camouflaging as I suspected?

—————————

“This spot is perfectly in the middle of the turkeys’ path.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest to glare at Gale, “You just spilled a bunch of blood there. No critter is gonna come this way anymore with that stink.”

  “Turkeys aren’t that smart, Catnip,” Gale looked up from his belt after securing his new catch— his pants were covered in gore from where the rabbit nearly cut its own foot off trying to fight the snare’s grip. “I’m more than confident that if we set traps here, we’ll catch at least a fat Tom…more if we set up a system wide enough,”

  After a somewhat rocky start, Gale and I learned to respect each other’s skills, even joining forces for certain seasons, like deer and turkey hunting. We also fished together on occasion. It was safe to say we had a friendship after three… almost four years of partnership in the woods. At 18 Gale was less obnoxious, but still a stubborn ass. 

  “And I’m telling you, the path is tainted now. We need to put feed on the other side of the bushes, to keep them in the area.”

  “That’ll take weeks!” 

  “Then you shouldn’t have let that bunny bleed to death in here!” 

  “Listen here, Catnip—” whatever he was about to say, died in his throat.

  “What?!” I demanded, angrily, when he just stared at me horror struck.

  “Your nose!” He roared. “Your eyes!” He tumbled forward, and squished my cheeks in his one, long-fingered hand. “There’s more coming!”

  I yanked myself away from him. “Cut it out!”

  “I think your soulmate is getting the shit beaten out of!”

  I grunted and brought my fingers to my face, as if I could feel the changes. 

  Gale had seen some of my bruises, enough to be sure I had a soulmate, but not enough to realize my soulmate was being abused.

  I rubbed under my nose, and the tip of my index came back bloody. 

  I gasped. That had never happened before. 

  “How bad is it?” I asked Gale, frantically. 

  “Um… orange keeps popping up all over your face. There’s some running up your arm right now.” He sounded careful, but frightened. “It’s like… burn marks,”

  I looked down, where indeed, long, fat tongues of intense orange glowed up my left arm. I’ve seen glowing marks before, but always in the tip of my fingers or the sides of my hands, I never connected the glowing with fire— burn marks— but it made sense. I guess my soulmate must handle fire regularly. 

  “What’s happening?” I pulled my little mirror from my pocket, to see my face, and nearly sobbed at the sight.

  One eye was completely covered in orange. Burn marks ran all the way from my elbow up to my cheek, and part of my forehead. My nose had a tiny, bloody smear, and my lip had streaks of orange here and there. 

  Whatever happened, was bad.

  “Fuck… Do you know where he is, by any chance?” Gale winced. 

  “No… but I’m about to find out!” I looked around for a place to sit, then pulled my small knife out of my boot. 

  Once seated, I examined my forearms. The flaming marks started at the elbow on my left arm, and went up on that side, my right arm was free of injury, except for my palms. Both were glowing orange, but not too bad. 

  “Okay… here goes nothing!” I gritted through my teeth, placing the tip of my knife to my arm, I traced the word, “WHERE?” crudely, and just deep enough to break the skin.

  Gale made a face, but crouched closed by, staring intently. “Do you think it’ll work?” He asked dubiously. “He might be unconscious for all we know,” 

  “We’ll see.”

  The minutes rolled by and no answer came. I was starting to panic; all I could think about was would that be the day I became the next Haymitch Abernathy? At least he got to meet his soulmate and have a relationship with her before she died; I had no idea who mine was. Was it worse that way, knowing them and then losing them, or was it worst to never meet them at all? Would I become soulless? Would my entire body turn gray? Would I ever find another soulmate? Haymitch never said if he ever looked for another, but I knew it was possible to get a secondary soulmate if enough time went by. 

  “Look!” Gale shouted. 

  A shaky “D12” appeared under my message. 

  A relieved gasp left my mouth. 

  “District 12! That’s good! He could’ve been all the way in District 4, and then what were you gonna do? Call the authorities there?” Gale muttered, clearly invested in what was happening to me.

  Tears stung my eyes. I wrote: “ME 2” 

  We’ve been in the same district the whole time, and I still had no idea where to find him! 

  I turned the knife back to the first word, and traced a line under it “WHERE?”

  The answer came back faster. “S H”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I moaned,  “What kind of abbreviation is that? Ugh! I’m trying to help you!” I screamed at my arm as if my soulmate could hear it.

  “Seam House?” Gale mused… “No, there are hundreds, if not thousands of houses in the Seam,” he said.

  The Seam was the poorer part of the district, where people like us lived: low income families, miners, laborers and the such. 

  “Ah! Ask if he means Slag Heap? If I was trying to pick a fight with someone, that’s where I’d go.”

  “He didn’t pick a fight!” I snapped, defensive and angry. “He’s been beaten every other day, since I can remember. My parents used to go to the police station every year to see if they could do something about it. Nobody ever did! They always said we needed to figure out a way to communicate with him… well, I’m doing it now!”

  Gale frowned, “That’s shitty. I’m sorry to hear that. The Slag Heap could still be it, though. Many people go there to be alone… if they’re running from someone, there’s plenty hiding spots,”

  That sounded logical, “Okay… but the slag heap isn’t exactly small, and there’s some woodsy area to consider too,”

  “Mmm… asking has been working so far,” 

  “Yeah, but the whole mutilation part is getting to me…” I glared, he wasn’t the one cutting his arm, “I’m starting to get woozy,” 

  “You’re a hunter, Catnip! Blood is nothing,”

  “Animals, Gale! Not my own blood,”

  “There’s no difference,” Gale cupped my face in his hands, to keep my eyes on his gray, steely ones. “we’re all animals. We all bleed the same. Your soulmate needs your help, if I knew who mine was, and I knew she was in trouble, I’d be rushing to them… you can do this, Catnip,”

  I took a deep, cleansing breath, and nodded. “I’ll ask him. As soon as we know where to go… could you please fetch my father? He’ll know what to do,” 

  “You got it, Catnip!” He let go of me, and I felt renewed courage after his weird pep talk.

  Once again, I trace the tip of my knife on my skin, “SLAG H? WHERE?”

  “YES    NE”

  “North East! I told you it’ll work!” 

  “Yeah,” I grumbled, spelling making one last message: “W8 4 ME”

  “K”

  With half a plan in motion, Gale rushed to find my father, and I made a mad dash to the slag heap, where years and years of dumping dirt and rocks removed from the mines had formed small hills and mounds at the edge of the district. 

  “Hello!” I called out loudly. “Can anybody hear me?!” 

  There wasn’t a whole lot of vegetation in the slag heap, only hundreds of disturbed soil pits and little mountains… some were tall and wide enough they’ll easily conceal a person or two looking for privacy. 

  “Anybody here?” I called again.

  A weak cough answered in the distance. 

  I rushed in it’s direction, hoping it was my soulmate, and not a couple trying to steal away a few minutes alone. 

  “Please, tell me where you are!” I called before another round of coughing reached me. 

  “Here to finish me off, sweetheart?” Came a weak, raspy voice from behind me.

  I turned around but saw nothing besides dirt, and sticks, and moss on rocks. 

  I swallowed, “Where are you?” I stepped closer to the heap in front of me, and then…

  “Well, don’t step on me!” 

  I jumped back and looked downwards, and finally saw dirty pieces of flannel and denim, incongruous with the area, and under all the debris, I realized a person had dug a little wedge at the foot of the hill, and thrown the stuff he’d dug out back on top of himself. The disguise was clever, camouflaging himself into the terrain. 

  I gasped and dropped to the ground, pulling handfuls of earth out of the way. A jolt of recognition hit me when a pair of bright blue eyes blinked open and shut, slowly, as if fighting off fatigue. 

  “Don’t go to sleep!” I warned.

  “I’m sorry, but it might be too late for that already. There’s an angel hovering above me, and I’m not sure I’m not dreaming it,” a row of white teeth appeared from the soil.

  My knee-jerk reaction was to chuff and roll my eyes, but if he was throwing me those cheesy lines, it meant he was somewhat lucid, and it was imperative to keep him that way. 

  “How do you know is not a nightmare?” I countered.

  “Because Katniss Everdeen coming to my rescue, and being my soulmate could never be a bad dream. On the contrary It’s only my deepest, most desperate hope, really…” he trailed off, and closed his eyes again. 

  I was momentarily frightened.

  “Keep talking,” I ordered, brushing dirt off his head. Some of it mixed in with his blood and sweat, turning into a thick mud. I could see more of his battered face; my heart beat erratically against my rib cage, there were so many bruises. “Peeta, keep talking,” 

  His untouched eye opened slowly, a lazy, sideways smile greeted me, warming me up. “You know my name?” 

  I chuckled, startled, “You know mine,”

  “Everyone knows you, Katniss ‘the huntress’ Everdeen!” He reached up, tentatively, and touched the tip of my braid, whispering under his breath, something that sounded like: unreal.

  Just saying his name felt otherworldly; like breathing for the first time. I’ve never uttered it before, for fear of bringing forward memories of that awful day in the rain, by the bakery’s scraggly apple tree. 

  “And you’re Peeta Mellark, the boy with the bread. I’ve known your name for a long time, baker’s youngest son, whose kindness saved my entire family from starvation,” I cupped his injured face in my hands, and I couldn’t help the slight tremble in my voice. 

  He seemed to melt at the sound of my voice; then his hands came to touch my face. “I can’t believe it’s you. I can’t believe you found me!” He said, an edge of incredulity and awe colored his tone, but then his face fell, “But, your sweet, beautiful face… it’s all…” a fat tear rolled down his muddy cheek, while his thumb gently caressed my temple and the side of my face. “I’m so sorry, Katniss… I never wanted you to look like this! I always tried to shift positions, so you’d never had to see how bad it got. I’m so sorry,” he was crying so hard, he started to shake and cough.

  It took inhuman strength not to cry myself; I knew he needed me to protect him, and there would be time later to fall apart and feel emotional. 

  “Shush, I’m here now.” I knelt next to him and locked my arms around his head, pulling him against my chest, so he could hear my heart beating only for him. “I’m going to take care of you.”

  “I really hoped it was you. I really did…” he heaved into my neck, his arms wrapping gingerly around my waist, “thank you for finding me,”

  “Of course I found you… I’ve been looking for you for ages,” I whispered, finally giving in, shedding some tears, relieved that the tension, fear, uncertainty, and frustration were finally gone. My soulmate was in my arms, where he belonged! “My parents started looking for you when we were little. But we’re together now,”

  Peeta calmed down some, but he was still breathing too fast, “Now that you have me… what are you gonna do with me?” He asked meekly. 

  I smiled down at him, “I’ll put you somewhere safe, where you can never get hurt again,” 

  He closed his eyes. “I’d like that…” 

  “Peeta, you can’t go to sleep just yet, okay?”

  “I’m so tired, Katniss,”

  “I know,” I cooed. I had no idea I was capable of speaking with such softness. “My father will get here soon, and then we’ll patch you up real well.”

  “I can’t go back to my house though—“

  “You ain’t going there, kid!” Papa said from a few feet away. Gale and two police officers followed closely. 

  I must’ve been completely enthralled with my soulmate, because I never heard them coming, 

  “Even if it’s the last thing I do, I won’t let you go back to that place!” My father stated. 

  And that was that!

  ——————————-

“Tell me what happened,” Officer Darius asked in a soft tone, trying to be encouraging.

  My soulmate inhaled; one eye was so swollen it was completely shut, his other one roved around the room nervously. Peeta locked his gaze with mine, beseeching, and I offered my hand in support. He clung to it like a lifeline. 

  “My mother asked me to burn a pile of leaves and branches in the backyard that had been there since fall, but the branches were damp and it was taking me a while to fire it up. Since it’s the last week to burn stuff, my mom got impatient. She screamed at me, called me incompetent and useless… the usual stuff—“

  “Does your mother call you names regularly?” Asked the officer. 

  “My mom calls everybody names. I guess that’s how she was raised. Her mom used to call her names too…” Peeta shrugged.

  “That’s no reason to keep the cycle going,” my mama grumbled quietly, so only I could hear her.”

  “After insulting you, what else happened?” Prompted the police woman, Officer Purnia.

  Peeta scowled. “I told her I’d pour some lighter fluid on the pile and let it soak for a few minutes, but she wouldn’t hear it. Said I was doing it wrong, I was too stupid, I would never accomplish shit if I couldn’t even light up some dead branches… and, well. I got fed up. I told her she could start the fire herself if I was doing such a lousy job… my mom… she—She doesn’t like to be talked back…” He sagged on his hospital bed, and turned his face away. 

  “What do you mean?” Asked officer Purnia, taking notes, trying to keep an impassive mask on.

  “The first slap landed across my ear because I dared to move away from her flying hand,” Peeta said tersely, “She didn’t like that either, so she took aim again, but with the bottle of lighter fluid on her palm. She practically smashed it against my face.” He stopped to gasp for air, while his good eye filled with tears. “I think fluid squirted everywhere, I smelled like my hair and clothes had been doused in the stuff,” he raked a shaking hand over the singed hair at his temple. 

  I caressed his arm to sooth him. 

  He smiled gratefully at me, and faced the officers to continue. “I’d just put a piece of burning cardboard into the pile. I guess the leaves caught fire during the squabble with mom, and I must’ve lost my balance after taking a plastic bottle full of liquid to the face, because next thing I know, I’m bracing my hands on the ground, on burning sticks, and then I’m on fire myself.”

  Peeta sustained first degree burns on the different spots from his left forearm, up. Luckily, his wounds were managed as soon as we got to the emergency room, and his treating doctor said he would recover, with minimal scarring.

  “How did you end up at the Slag Heap?” Asked Officer Darius. 

  Peeta sighed, “My mom kind of freaked out when she realized I was on fire. She picked up a rag from somewhere and started hitting me with it…” he paused, “in retrospect, I think she may have actually been trying to help me, but… I just saw it like she was still trying to beat me, so I ran off. I tripped, fell, then rolled on the ground, she started calling my name, coming closer to me. I was scared. I took off again and didn’t stop until I fell at the foot of that mound of dirt in the slag heap. That’s when I noticed my soulmate’s note.”

  Officer Darius quirked up a reddish eyebrow, “Your soulmate’s note?” 

  “Yeah… these,” Peeta tried to peel back the bandage over his arm, but my mother put her hand over it, and shook her head. 

  “Here!” I said, immediately shoving my own arm in front of the officers. 

  Both examined my arm. “How did you think of doing that, Miss Everdeen?” 

  “I was inspired by your bosses actually,” I snarled.

  “Katniss!” Mama chided, and then politely addressed the officers. “You see, my husband and I have come to the authorities for many years, urging them to find a way to locate our daughter’s soulmate. You see, she’d started exhibiting her soulmate’s bruises from a very young age, which in my professional experience, were inconsistent with normal toddler scrapes and bumps—“

  “The chief of police always said to find a way to communicate with him, ask where he was… so I did,” I interrupted, haughtily. “I got you a real life victim to investigate. You’re welcome.”

  The officers stared at me, flabbergasted. 

  Mama made a dismaying noise in the back of her throat, but Peeta’s face— burnt, bruised and swollen— lighted up, with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen a person direct at me. 

  Mama interjected, conciliatory, “My husband and I believe, your department should have enough evidence to investigate Peeta’s case, now?” My mother’s searching blue eyes seemed to x-ray the officers. 

  “Well, Miss and Mrs. Everdeen, Mister Mellark, I think we have everything we need for now. Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll be in touch.” Said Officer Purnia snapping shut her notebook. 

  “Mr. Mellark, your case worker, Miss Trinket, will be in as soon as the matter of your emergency custody is settled.” Informed Officer Darius, right before wishing us a good evening.

  Peeta frowned, “Are they sending me to like a home or something? What about my brothers? They can’t stay home with my mom… she’ll go nuts on them!” 

  “No, no, Peeta,” Mama spoke softly, “Miss Trinket is already on it. Haymitch Abernathy has offered his house for your brothers to stay at for a few days while things get sorted out. You’re welcome to join them, of course, but your injuries need supervision and several cleanings daily, so Mr. Everdeen and I feel it is in everyone’s best interest if you stay with us, at least until you’ve healed enough.” Mama hesitated, and then patted my soulmate’s hand, “I hope that’s okay with you, but if it isn’t—“

  “It’s absolutely great, ma’am! Yes, I—thank you,” 

  Mama nodded, “Well, I’m gonna go get some stuff taken care of, and check on that case worker. Then they’ll hopefully let us go home… Katniss, I’ll need your help with something before we leave, alright?”

  “‘kay.” 

  “Mrs. Everdeen…thank you,” Peeta said meekly. 

  Mama just stood stoically by the door, “You’re family, Peeta, it’s the least we could do for you.” The door clicked shut leaving me alone with my soulmate.

  We were both silent for a minute. Then Peeta said half amused, half shyly, “I think the guy cop liked you. I caught him smirking a couple of times after your ruthless answers.” His smile was crooked. Boyish. I almost swooned. 

  I shrugged. “I don’t think he cared that much,”

  “Are you serious?” Peeta laughed, “Katniss, you have no idea the effect you can have,”

  I scowled at him, and he just shook his head. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or complimenting me. He changed the topic before I could decide which. 

  “So, you’ve been looking for me then?” He sounded nervous, and a little uncertain, “isn’t it weird…we are soulmates, but the only thing I know for sure about you, is that your favorite color is green?” He rubbed his fingers together, then showed me the tips, where he had dark green spots, exactly on the same place I had permanent calluses from pulling on my bow string. 

  I bit my lower lip, studying the thin spidering of green nicks and scratches, were I surmised my own marks have appeared after my daily trips into the woods. 

  “Your favorite color is orange. Not bright, but muted…”

  “Like the sunset,” he finished for me. 

  Mind bonding wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities between soulmates, but my understanding on the matter was, that the bond had to be physically sealed before a pair could develop those empathic connections, where soulmates shared perfectly synchronized thoughts, as if they had one mind. Peeta and I weren’t there just yet, but it felt like we understood each other pretty well already. 

  He just stared at me in fascination, before his face fell, “I hope you don’t get permanently disfigured, if my burn scars don’t go away completely… you are so pretty.”

  I rolled my eyes, pleased that he thought I was pretty, but not really knowing how to respond graciously. I’d never been called pretty by a boy before, not that it’d have the same effect as when Peeta said it… “You’re just saying that I’m pretty because I’m your soulmate,” 

  He smiled sadly, “No… I really mean it. I’ve had a crush on you since I can remember. I just new I belonged to someone since I was like 4, when I saw my first soulmate scratch on my knees. Your favorite colors back then were teal and pink. Your marks were always swirls of the two colors. I liked them. I liked that I belonged to someone who enjoyed colors, like myself… I wondered what your marks looked like, but then, I hoped you never had to see my marks. I was ashamed of them.”  

  My chest tightened, I climbed onto his bed, and pressed my side right against his, “Hey… I’ve like your marks.” I stuttered, “my parents never let me see the ones on my back until I was older, but I liked the ones you got in normal places. Yours appeared as rainbows where we were little.” I held his hand in mine. “I don’t care if we stay fire mutts forever, Peeta, the important thing is that we are together now,” 

  “Thank you for finding me,”

  “Thank you for leading me to you,”

  We leaned our heads together, and fell into an easy silence.

  “Katniss…”

  “Mmm,”

  “We are soulmates.” 

  I tilted my head away, to look at him, “Yeah. We already established that,” I said suspiciously.

  Peeta smirked, “You know, we’re supposed to be madly in love…so, it’s okay to kiss me whenever you want to,” 

  I snorted and rolled my eyes, but he was right. In any other circumstance, I’m sure we would’ve already progressed into couple-y, lovey-dovey stuff. 

  “If you’re already fishing for kisses, that means you’re healthy then!” I kissed his forehead. “But let me tell you right now, cheek and sass won’t take too far, sir,”

  “It won’t?” he pouted, “then I’ll just have to swoop in when I see an opening,” he leaned into me, and I let him plant a peck, full on my lips. 

  My first kiss ever, and all I could register was how chapped his lips were… besides the small fluttering of butterfly wings in the pit of my stomach, of course. 

  “Well, time for a sip of water, and you should rest some too.” I said feeding him the straw in the Styrofoam cup full of icy water by his bed. 

  After he drank, we gravitated towards each other, meeting in the middle. Our second kiss was short, sweet, and full of relief. 

  I liked it. In fact, I wanted another, but Peeta was drowsy after the day we’ve had. 

  “I remember you used to sing, so beautifully, even the birds would stop to listen,” Peeta said, shyly… “would you… mind singing for me?”

  “I don’t sing all that much nowadays, but if that’s what you want…”

  He stared at me expectantly, so I had no other choice. I combed back his freshly washed hair, and started.

  “Just close your eyes;

The sun is going down.

You’ll be alright;

No one can hurt you now.

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound...”

  When Mama came back, Peeta was asleep, and so she took me outside while my father sat in the room with the case worker, signing in my soulmate’s release papers, waiting for him to wake up. 

  “I want you to take these,” Mama produced a packet of medicine from a white, pharmaceutical baggie. 

  “Birth control?!” I groaned, embarrassed. 

  “Don’t look so scandalized, Katniss,” Mama rolled her eyes, “You and Peeta are healthy, newly acquainted teenaged soulmates, who will suddenly coexist together in close quarters. Papa and I agreed that starting you on contraceptives is the right thing to do,” she fixed me with a stare that broker no protests, “That said, we are not giving you carte blanche to act on pure hormonal instincts, Katniss. While we aren’t so naive to believe you won’t explore intimacy with your soulmate, we fully expect you to use caution, and make responsible decisions. Is that clear?” 

  I nodded, and snatched the pills from Mama’s outstretched hand. My face was burning with mortification, but I was grateful for my parents’ wherewithal and openness. 

  The next few days proved harsh and blissful at the same time. After 11 years pestering the authorities, Papa finally got the law to prosecute my soulmate’s parents for abuse and neglect. To call it a victory, was understatement. 

  Peeta’s father was declared another victim of the Witch’s abuse, but court ordered him to see a therapist and get evaluated by a professional, before he could come back home to his sons. 

  Mrs. Mellark was charged with endangering a child, battery, abuse and arson. She was court ordered to seek anger management and psychological counseling. She had been abused as a child too, and after watching her son in fire, it finally clicked in her head, that she needed to put a stop to the cycle… late as it may be. She went willingly when the police served her arrest warrants. 

  Since Peeta and his middle brother were still minors, they were temporarily placed under their eldest brother’s care; but the eldest brother was only 19 and had no idea how to be a father figure, so strange as it was, my parents insisted on having them all bunk in our tiny house, which was comically insufficient. Thank heavens Haymitch Abernathy was still willing to help. 

  The grumpy old drunk invited the lot of us to stay at his place for as long as we needed, and after cleaning up all the empty bottles and general messes around his huge house, we could enjoy the place at our leisure. 

  The boys kept working at the bakery, since they needed a source of income, and something to keep themselves occupied. Mama said they needed the normalcy of their business to cope. 

  It was a good thing Haymitch’s house was so big, since Peeta started having horrible nightmares after his mother was released from holding, after making bail; her trial was still pending, but my poor soulmate suffered severe PTSD from the events that brought us together. Neither of his brothers wanted to share a room with him at night…which allowed me to slip in when I heard him crying out desperately and fearfully.

  Peeta would only go back to sleep after I laid beside him and sang, while carding my fingers through his sweat-damped, ashy blond waves. 

  “I’m not okay until I can see you’re safe,” he told me once. 

  After the third night in a row of this happening, I just stayed with him in his bed. My parents didn’t exactly approve— we were still 16— but there wasn’t much they could say to stop us. After all, our soulmate bond trumped any other familial bond; we just couldn’t legally get married and apply for housing until we were both 18. 

  Peeta still woke up in cold sweats at night, but my arms were there to fend off the terrors, and so were my lips. 

  On the night I felt a hunger so consuming and devastating, gnawing at me from my core, radiating to the tips of my being, I was glad my mother put me on birth control. 

  My soulmate gently, but steadily joined us together, cementing our physical bond for the rest of time, while branding his love and adoration to me into my very skin, with fevered lips and shaky hands. We gasped and whispered vows of devotion to one another, and then an explosion of feelings and emotions went off… I couldn’t tell where his life force started, and mine ended. We were one. Sharing a single soul. 

  After, we laid tangled together, our hearts beating as one. Peeta kissed my knuckles, and asked.

  “You looked for me, for years. Real or not real?”

  “Real.”

  He kissed my forehead, “Will you sing?” 

  “Of course,” I combed back his hair with loving fingers, and sang.

  “Just close your eyes;

You’ll be alright;

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound.”

[tedturneriscrazy]

🎶Knock, Knock, Knockin' On Hooty's Door🎵

I wonder if anything will happen in this episode.🙂

(I say as if I didn't watch the episode twice before going to bed and writing this post)

I don't think I'll ever not be amused by the way Hooty just...does things with his face

Seems like he found a thesaurus at some point

Okay so it's canonically spelled "Hootsifer," good to know

Also, this is really all we get of Lilith, huh?

His little hoot/coo at Lilith's letter❤❤❤

To borrow a meme format: If I had a nickel for every time Alex Hirsch was involved in a show where one of the characters was experiencing pubescent voice cracks, I'd have two nickels, which isn't very much but it's weird that it happened twice

Eda's face🤣

As much as this bit is played for laughs, Eda's clearly still shaken by what happened last episode

Jeez, Luz, priorities /j

Pictured: Hooty

The way King talks about being pelleted implies this is something Hooty does on the regular

Hooty's plan to help King is literally a Buzzfeed quiz? Okay then

Betcha never expected lore from Hooty, eh?

"DO NOT INTERRUPT"

Officially a "type of worm"

The dance being a grievous insult wasn't exactly from nowhere, but still funny nonetheless

WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THE FUCKING COCCOON

Tiny Nose playing Switch definitely seems to be drawing from Dana's real life experiences

Wait, Hooty and Tiny Nose are friends?

Well shit, turns out she could use magic this whole time. Guess her going Super Saiyan wasn't just the power glyph.

I am extremely skeptical of your medical credentials, TN

I have so many questions about the methodology they used for the blood test(s)

I think Hooty may have misinterpreted what King was looking for

I'm still amazed at how King has had, and continues to have, moments in the show with some of the greatest emotional weight

Ooh, sound powers!

"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A CRUMBLE!!!"

It just occurred to me that that segment consisted mostly of Alex Hirsch talking to himself

Hello not-at-all obvious setup

Today I learned that Hooty is the baker of the house. Maybe he'd critique Amity's fairy pie.

Aaaaand there's the sleep inducing

Oh shit

In hindsight the Owl Beast being part of a dream sequence is rather obvious

Wow, Eda, tell us how you really feel about the Owl Beast

Oh we're just gonna ride aboard the Trauma Express today, huh?

Oh, I guess Lilith did make an appearance, after all

Damn, Gwen, not even looking

Oh shit dad issues

Sandy Cohen?! (To anyone who gets that reference, hi. How are your 30s treating you?)

Well, I know who Peter Gallagher voices now, anyway

Oh dear...

(Also, bright flashing lights triggering the curse? There's an epilepsy allegory in here somwhere)

Blood and eye injury? Gotta stretch that Y7 rating

Now we have some context for that look on Eda's face when Lilith mentioned their dad: good old fashioned guilt!

I desparately want to make a "Dude, you're getting a Dell!" joke, but I'm better than that

New memory! Raine!

Oh no...

I get the feeling I'll hate this part, too

They were exes!😢 Guess the fandom called that one

The reasoning for them being exes is understandable, all too real, and goddamn heartbreaking

That said, the fact they never stopped loving each other🥺😢😭

I do hope we can see Raine again under less...traumatic circumstances. Maybe that wedding that was mentioned?

Oh shit, are we getting into the Owl Beast's memories?!?! What a tweest!

Bet nobody expected Cloaked Moonface to show up in the frickin Hooty episode

(Also, holy shit I briefly forgot this was the Hooty episode)

Who is this mysterious cloaked figure? And why are they so tall and long?

So the curse was a sealed beast this whole time. Damn.

And it was just picked up as beach junk to sell as a trinket. So much for it being connected to Belos. (Not that people will stop trying to do so)

Who had "experiencing sympathy for the Owl Beast" on their Bingo cards for this episode? Yeah, me neither.

And here we have the necessary Eda coming to terms with her curse segment. More accurately, Eda and the curse coming to terms with each other.

Goddamnit why does it have to be cute

"It's like sandpaper" IT'S LIKE A CAT I FUCKING CAN'T

Insert Steamed Hams reference here to kill the mood

New transformation!

Oh no she's hot!

No, Hooty, you made it surprisingly much, much better!

She might have a problem pushing people away and holding onto guilt, but Eda always knows that she looks damn good

Oh right, Luz having girl problems. Fuck, so much is happening in this episode!

"Cotton-candy-haired Goddess" LUZ! 🤣

Attuned to other people's emotions = being a fucking creeper

Oh Luz, what happened to you back home?

Also, 99.999% certain Amity would love your cheesiness

That's...rather morbid, Hooty

So much lore development, including the fact the Owl House has a basement

Classic inanimate object silhouette fakeout gag. Subversion in 3...2...1...

There it is!

I can't imagine being pelleted is a fun experience.

Honestly I have so many questions about how Hooty got Amity there in the first place, but I'm not so sure I actually want to know the answers to any of them...

Cue much panicking

Wow, I'm really getting some Into the Bunker flashbacks

Oh this is gonna be amazing isn't it

I commend Luz for not actually dropping dead of embarrassment

Seriously, how can Hooty set all this up so fast yet not hold a pen?!?!?!

Poor Luz, she thinks this is destroying her chances

Meanwhile Amity is just "Oh, Titan, is this actually happening?!"

The way she's fixing her hair!❤

Goddamnit Luz let this play out, she's so clearly into this!

"Again?!" Okay who do I have to kill?

Luz is luzing it

Nooooooo....

JUST TALK FOR FUCK'S SAKE (aka how like 95% of issues in literally any plot could be solved)

Noooo Amity's so heartbroken right now💔

This isn't what either of them wanted!

To be fair, Hooty, Luz had a part in this too. Not that she can be blamed entirely. Poor thing clearly had some awful experiences back home...

Now Hooty is McFucking losing it

Why did I think he was gonna say "Looks like I'm gonna have to JUMP!" I think I've watched too much Homestar Runner (jk there's no such thing)

Those pulsating organs are still gross

Eda swooping in to save her son (No, really, he actually is now)

I'll say things get weird when Hooty gets upset!

Yes, King! Save them with your voice powers!

Damn that is some romantic lighting, and Luz is enjoying the eye candy (cotton candy, if you will)

Luz's reaction to Harpy!Eda is the family-friendly summation of how the fandom has reacted.

Hooty really just tearing up the landscape in remorse

Mother-daughter moment about love life!

I appreciate not just Eda's encouragement but her actually asking Luz what she wanted

God, Eda is best mom

Also, OH FUCK IS THIS HAPPENING?!

OH SHIT

THESE ADORABLY AWKWARD NERDS❤💜💙

"I'm not as cool as you think" could be interpreted as self-deprecating, but here it seems...oddly reassuring?

The way Luz eloquently says how she wants Amity in her future...beautiful❤

Luz making some good faces

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

YOU CUTE DORKS I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

THERE IT IS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

LOOK HOW HAPPY SHE IS

WE WERE LOSING OUR SHIT OVER A PECK ON THE CHEEK THREE WEEKS AGO AND NOW LOOK WHERE WE ARE HOLY FUCK

Awkwardness is still there, but that's to be expected

BET Y'ALL DIDN'T EXPECT THAT TRAILER SHOT TO BE IN THE HOOTY EPISODE HUH

THE WAY LUZ RUBS AMITY'S HAND😭😭😭😭😭

(And yeah, it's gonna still be scary, but only because it promises to be so wonderful)

Let's give it up for Hootsifer, goddamn!

Let'a also appreciate just how fucking funny it is that Lumity becomes official in the Hooty episode

Fus ro WEH!

Hooty actually saying "Luz's new GF" out loud...

In just about any other show the love interests getting together would be a climax/culmination of the entire plot. Here? It's actually used to advance the plot, and that is brilliant!

Dana Terrace and the crew really just knocking it out of the park again and again, huh

"They're adorable, and deserve all the happiness!" Well said, Hootsifer. Well said.

Probably for the best they had Hooty promise that. As much as what happened/progressed, there was a lot of property damage.

OH SHIT ONCE AGAIN

King's dad/relative! And he's voiced by Kevin Michael Richardson!

GODDAMNIT HOOTY

Wow. Just...wow. This episode.

King has voice powers! Harpy!Eda! Lumity are girlfriends for real!!!!

How do you pack so much into a single episode?! And so expertly?!

I had my suspicions before, but this confirms it: The Owl House is the greatest show of all time.

And we have two episodes left until the hiatus! And 11 episodes in the season after that! What are we in for?!?!?!

I, for one, can't wait to find out!

[simsricecake]

I DON'T KNOW IF ANYONE CARES BUT I SURE DO.

The GERMAN names for some of the Premades are making me fcking cry:

Pleasantview :

The Pleasants are named "Pretty" and i think that's beautiful

Mary Sue - Marie Claire (WHAT WERE U THINKIN Y TF "CLAIRE" HELLO)

Lillith - Lilli (Now her name doesn't have its great meaning i just cry)

The Broke houshold is named BROWN

Brandi - Babsi (BRO WHAT IS THIS WHO CALLS HER DAUGHTER BABSI?)

Beau - Bernd (A grandpa name)

Dustin - Detlef (THIS SOUNDS LIKE A HOMELESS MANS NAME I-)

The Dreamers aren't only Dreamers in the german version, no nono, their last name is DREAMDANCER

Darren - Hugo (literally why)

The Oldies surname is Oldiron, OLD IRON.

Movin over To Veronaville because oh boy Strangetown gets the crown when it comes to german names let me tell ya.

Veronaville :

Not a lot of change here but Tybalt is Theobald and Mercutio is Victorio

Puck - Piet

Bottom - Andrea (this is such a basic name for womans in their 40's 😭)

Goneril - Gerda (wHaT)

Albany - Albert (ok boomer)

Hal - Hans

Ariel - Elvira (???what)

Regan - Rita

Cornwall - Erich (Bro)

Ok and now i want to present to you the Strangest names:

Strangetown :

The Smith family is named Schmitt, thats like how every doctor in my area is named. The only change her is little Jill, whos name is Britta, again a name for a lady in their 40's (my opinion ok)

Many may know this, but the Specter houshoulds german surname is SPECK which means Bacon. BACON

Olive - Olivia (i like olive more because of olives garden but olivia sounds cute)

What if i tell you that the Beakers are bakers? Because thats what their german surname means.

And the worst is : Loki - Klausi (Klausi is literally a cat name omg Catboy Loki might be confi-)

My Courios boys got to keep their surname, but OH MY WATCHER I SWEAR, I TOUGHT VIDCUND WAS A BAD NAME, BUT GERMANY REALLY SAID : ,,i can do it better"

Lazlo - Lutz

Vidcund - (breath in and out...) Friedbert. (What on earth is that i am so mad and sad and just everything-)

Crystal Vu - Petra Kwiek(I DARE U TO TRY TO PRONOUNCE HER LAST NAME, CAUSE I CAN NOT-....poor bby..)

Singles :

Nothing but, uh...

Erin: Erna (i facepalm everytime i read This)

Ok and now i want to show you: #1 when it comes to weird and unfitting names that make me feel uncomfortable...

Ajay Loner is Lonely in german, and his new (really fucking unfitting) name is Arthur.

The Grunt Family

Or if we talk about the names in germany, the grunz familie (oink!)

Buzz - Fritz (this is so funny, cuz i can not take him seriously with this name)

Buck - Gerd (an old mans name ok)

Ripp - Richard (o m g i gotta say, i think it is kinda fitting, but Ripp is just so much better for them!!)

Tank - Theo (No just no)

That would be it! I made this list because i found it funny but at the same time just heartbreaking how the names are so weird in german sims 2. Anyway thank you for reading this i hope u had sum fun.

All the people that aren't included kept their original/english names!!

[marauders-venting]

I Know Him

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: murder mystery fluff

warnings: several mentions of murder, child abuse, blood (stabbing and bullet wounds), hints at homophobia, hints at sex

words: 4447

a/n: this is a switching fandoms fic with harry potter characters in the sherlock holmes universe. In this fic remus is holmes and sirius is watson. I have kept certain aspects that i thought were important about remus and sirius’ personalities but i had to give them some of holmes and watson’s personality traits for the fic to make sense.

also just so you know I based this fic off the original sherlock holmes books only. I have never seen the tv shows or film adaptations but i’ve heard they are very different from the books.

It was a chilly Saturday afternoon and Remus and I were sitting together in an armchair by the window. He was reading a book but I simply stared absent-mindedly. At Remus, at the street outside, at the dust in our apartment catching the light. But mostly at Remus. Suddenly, I caught sight of a flurry of movement outside. A woman bundled up in scarves was running down the street looking flustered.

“Remus,” said I, as I watched the woman scan the numbers on the building and near our apartment, “if I am not very much mistaken, the very thing you have been craving for the past week is approaching right now.”

“A client, you say?” said Remus, laying down the paper. “About time!” His eyes lit up with excitement and I scrambled out of his lap just as a knock sounded on the door.

“Mr Lupin?” said Mrs Hudson, the landlady. “I have a Miss Anne Robinson here to see you.”

“Yes, yes let her in,” replied Remus impatiently. Within a few seconds, Mrs Hudson had returned, leading a friendly-looking, middle-aged woman into the living room. Miss Robinson had a cheerful face with wrinkles next to her eyes that come from smiling and yet she looked sullen and tired, as do many of the people who visit our rooms at 221B Baker Street to seek professional help from Remus.

“Pray take a seat, Miss Robinson and tell me your story,” said Remus eagerly. “I have had no other cases to occupy me for the past week and would be glad for a problem of any kind. You are a cook, I presume?” The woman looked startled.

“Why, yes, Mr Lupin,” she said. “I work as a cook for the Wright family. But how could you have known that?”

“It is of no importance, I assure you. I simply noticed the soup stain on your dress,” said Remus. I could hear the slight note of impatience in his voice. However, I doubt anyone but I could have noticed it.

“How very clever of you,” said Miss Robinson, smiling at him. Remus brushed the compliment aside with a gesture of his hand.

“Now what is the case that you have brought for me today?” he asked.

“Well, Mr Lupin,” began the woman, “just three days ago, tragedy struck the Wright family. I spoke to Dr Wright and he agreed that it would be best to bring the case to you. I should probably begin by explaining to you the history of the household. Mr and Mrs Wright were very fitting for one another; they loved each other very much. When they decided to have children, Dr Wright hoped against hope that the child would be a boy. He desperately wanted someone to carry on the family name and honour. Poor Mrs Wright died in childbirth and Dr Wright heavily mourned her loss. To add to the trouble, little Mary Wright was not the boy her father had hoped for. Regardless, he learned to love his daughter and cared for her always; I would even venture to say he spoiled her a bit too much, although she turned out to be a lovely, modest young lady. And the spitting image of her dear mother she was too! Never saw a girl resemble her mother more than Mary resembled Mrs Wright.”

Miss Robinson smiled serenely at the thought of the mother and daughter together but then, her mouth turned down at the corners and her eyes became watery. She blinked several times and shivered slightly before continuing with her narrative.

“Anyway,” she continued, her voice shaky and unstable, “this is where I come to the crime. Just three days ago, at 9:30 on Wednesday night, Mary and her fiance, Charles, were found dead in Mary’s bedroom. He was stabbed right in the heart and she was shot in the head. The police have their suspect and I must say that the evidence against him is quite startling, that is to say, it seems like a finished case. But I thought I had better come to you sir, for I have the strangest feeling that the police have got it all wrong and I always trust my instincts, Mr Lupin.”

“Who is this suspect and what evidence do the police have against him?” asked Remus.

“His name is Joseph Williams, sir. He is a servant of the Wrights. He was found bending over the body of Charles after a gunshot was heard. When the other servants arrived, myself included, and called out his name, a triumphant smile rested on his face, his eyes ablaze, alive.” Miss Robinson shuddered. “The mere thought of his face chills me to my very core. I don’t know why I believe him to be innocent, sir, he seems perfectly capable of committing so horrible a crime. He has confessed to the police to have loved Mary ever since he first laid eyes on her. This would, of course, explain why he would have killed her fiance. The police think that he killed Mary because he was angry with her for not requiting his love but he denies all claims. He says he would never have touched a hair on her head. And as for Charles, he says he would have very much liked to kill him but that he did not do anything of the kind.”

“Were the weapons for the crime found?” asked Remus.

“The gun was in plain sight, thrown on the floor right beside the two. But the knife has not been located.”

“And I suppose the crime scene has not been preserved if the crime happened three days ago?”

“No sir. They moved the bodies on Friday morning.”

“Very well,” said Remus, straightening up. “Then I shall like to interview the other servants and Dr Wright if possible.”

“I shall speak to him, Mr Lupin. Perhaps you could come around to the house tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, I think I shall,” replied Remus. “Alright then, I just have one question before you leave, Miss Robinson. What hotel was Dr Wright staying at that night and why was he out of town?”

“How the deuce did you know he was out of town?” asked Miss Robinson, her brows raised and her eyes wide.

“It was quite simple, really. You never mentioned anything about how he ran into the room and cried out at the sight of the couple’s dead body or anything about how he slept so heavily that he didn’t hear the shot. I have heard many recounts of murder and this detail is included every time without fail. And yet you left it out of your narrative. Therefore, he must have been out of town at the time.”

“Oh,” Miss Robinson chuckled, “you gave a fright there for a moment Mr Lupin. Dr Wright was staying at L'Hôtel D'Affaires as he had an early conference meeting the next day.”

“Very well,” said Remus, “We shall see you tomorrow morning, Miss Robinson. Good day.” And with that, she bustled off back into the now significantly more crowded street.

The following day Remus and I ventured out to the Wright house to investigate. Remus questioned the two other servants but the interviews were brief and nothing new was discovered.

“Now we shall question Dr Wright and then I might head to the station to hear Mr Williams’ account,” said Remus.

One might think that it ails me to watch Remus question so many people and not understand what he understands. However, I must admit that it is one of my greatest pleasures to watch Remus work through a case. He is the master of deduction but there are a few telling signs that allow for me to draw my own conclusions. I know that he is excited despite his efforts to conceal it. Perhaps he fools the rest of the world but not me. I have the expressions of his face memorised. The furrow of his brows when he collects his evidence, the twinkle in his eyes when the pieces fall into place in his brilliant mind, the bite of his lip when he’s concentrating (sometimes I wish I were the one biting his lip in his place), the curl of his lip when, once again, he manages to outwit everybody else in the room. I believe Remus is the only man I have ever met who can be both modest and proud at once. And I love him for it.

“I was devastated when I got the news Mr Lupin,” said Dr Wright, once we were all sat down in the living room. “Naturally, of course. My beloved wife has passed and now my daughter and son-in-law too. This was the order of events as I had it. I left that evening at 6:15 and checked into L'Hôtel D'Affaires at 7:30. I had an important conference meeting early the next morning, you see, and I abhor rising early. The next day, I was summoned by the police and told that Williams had been arrested for the murder of Mary and Charles. I never knew Williams had feelings for my daughter but I think that his actions were certainly a poor expression of love.” Dr Wright’s face tensed with anger and despair. He looked truly broken and empty, as though he were lost and unsure about what he could do now that everything he had loved so dearly was gone.

“With your permission, sir, I will ask you a few questions now,” said Remus. “Were the couple happy together?”

“Oh yes. My Mary loved Charles truly; I believe she would have done anything for him.”

“And how did you feel about the match?”

“I too was satisfied. I thought that the boy was a wonderful young man and that he would take good care of my girl. I looked forward to their marriage.”

“What was the boy’s family like?”

“Oh, they lived quite comfortably and were very kind people. I thought Mary would be happy to be welcomed to such a family.”

“Well sir, I am truly sorry for your loss; I think we shall quit your company for I think I know everything that can be of use to me.”

---------

“Now to the police station then?” I asked once Remus and I left the house.

“No,” said Remus, still deep in thought, “no, I think our time would be better spent at the town gossip house.”

“Two beers, please,” said Remus as we walked into the nearest pub and placed three two-pence coins on the bar. When the bartender handed us our drinks, Remus turned to me and said, “Did you hear about what happened up at the Wright house?” I was familiar with Remus’ tactics by now and knew that he was, in fact, not speaking to me at all but merely hoping to be overheard by one of the locals at the bar.

“Know ‘bout that now do you?” the bartender interrupted before I would have had a chance to reply. He turned to face us once more.

“Yes, I read about it in the paper,” said Remus casually. I have said it before but he is an incredible actor. He fools them all. All but me. I grow warm at the thought and a smile begins to spread across my face but I suppress it. Smiling now would seem odd at the very least, suspicious as most. “They arrested the man, didn’t they? The servant they suspected?”

“Sure did,” replied the bartender. “And I reckon ‘e’s the one ‘oo dun it, too. D’you think ‘e’s the one ‘oo caused all them yellin’s up in the Haunted Shack?”

“Excuse me?” said Remus in evident surprise.

“You ain’t from around ‘ere, mister, are you?”

“No, I can’t say that I am.”

“Well, there’s a shack up there next to the Wright ‘ouse, a right nasty shack I’ll give you that. Now them Wrights is livin’ in a nice house, ain’t nothin’ too grand but it’s more than modest. Right by the Wright ‘ouse there’s an ol’ shack, abandoned I reckon. Dr Wright had fenced it off but ‘e never ‘ad it torn down. Now sometimes, in the dead of night, we villagers would ‘ear someone sobbin’ up in that place. Once we even ‘eard a scream. Ghosts, that’s what everyone’ll tell you, that the place is haunted. Rumor ‘as it that the reason that Dr Wright never tore down the bloody thing is because ‘e fears them ghosts. But I think different. I say whoever been makin’ those noises up in there, that’s your man, that’s the murderer. It ain’t makin’ much sense but it’s the bloody truth I’d be prepared to swear to it.”

Suddenly, Remus drained his drink in a gulp and said, “That’s an interesting idea, but we really must get going, Sirius, if we’re going to make the next train.”

Next, we visited L'Hôtel D'Affaires where Remus made some small inquiries while I admired the hotel’s lounge and thought over our discussion with the bartender. Why on earth would Williams, the servant, sob and scream in an old, mangled shack? I had no answer but I was sure that Remus did.

Finally, we returned to Baker Street for a spot of supper and bed. We ate without exchanging a word until Remus suddenly broke the silence.

“This case is wrong, all wrong!” he exclaimed in frustration. “But I haven’t enough evidence just yet to get the man convicted. But I shall find it, I shall.” And with that, he marched up to bed. I waited to follow him up. On nights like this, I give Remus space to mull over his thoughts about the case alone before going to bed. He has never asked me to but I know he wants the time to think.

“Hello,” said I, upon entering the room later that night. Remus seemed to have been lost in thought; upon my entrance, his head turned sharply towards me. “Would you like me to leave?” I asked hesitantly.

“No, of course not, darling,” he said, his expression softening, revealing the man I know behind the great detective. “As a matter of fact, perhaps I should let my mind become distracted by other matters and return to the case in the morning. I sometimes find it easier to approach the facts at a different angle when doing that.”

“I could think of a few ways to keep your mind distracted,” I said, grinning at him.

“Can you now?” he smirked.

---------

The next day, Remus decided to go back up to the Wright house and search Mary Wright’s room, the place where the crime was committed, for evidence of his new theory. He came back with a triumphant look on his face that indicated success. That night, after a small supper, Remus asked if I wished to accompany him.

“Where would we be going?” I asked curiously.

“To bring this case to justice,” he replied simply. “Bring your revolver,” he added; even though I had not yet consented to join him, he knew I could not refuse an offer such as the one before me. Not only because of my all-consuming love for him, but because of my curiosity as well.

When we arrived at the Wright house – which was, apparently, our destination – the door was opened by Dr Wright himself.

“Mr Lupin,” he said in surprise. Without waiting for a reply, Remus stepped over the threshold and into the house; I was on his heel as always.

“I must insist that you leave,” said Dr Wright in rage. “What is this hour at which you call upon me? Surely what you want can wait until tomorrow?”

“As a matter of fact, it cannot,” said Remus. His amber eyes bore straight into the brown ones of Dr Wright as though seeing right through him. “I don’t often carry out the commands of murderers.”

“I—what—h–how dare you—?” spluttered the doctor but he had turned significantly paler.

“Would you like to tell the story or shall I tell it for you?” said Remus.

“You know everything?” asked Dr Wright, sinking into a chair.

“I do.”

“Then I may as well come out and say that I had no intention for it to go this far. I suppose it began with my wife. I loved her dearly and I wanted a son terribly. When Mary was born and my wife passed away, I was in agony. I felt as though I had lost everything that I held dear. Mary was the spitting image of my late wife; she was a constant reminder of my lost love which was both excruciatingly painful and necessary for my survival. I hadn’t the heart to kill the girl but the pain drove me to near insanity sometimes and in those moments I would drag Mary into the shack on the outskirts of this property and whip her with my riding crop. I treated her terribly though nobody knew, not even the servants.”

My hands began to shake at that. Memories of my own childhood filled my head. The whipping, the beating, the screaming. I clenched my hands into fists to mask the shaking but Remus noticed. He noticed everything. His hand twitched towards mine but I met his eyes and shook my head ever so slightly. Not now. And certainly not here. Only one arrest would be made tonight and it wouldn’t be either of us.

I forced myself back into the present, feeling a surge of anger towards the man sitting before me but I did nothing more than continue to glare at him. All these years working alongside Remus had taught me to control my temper if only a little. This man would get what he deserved. Hitting him now wouldn’t solve anything. It would make me feel a whole lot better, though. The thought crossed my mind but Remus met my eye again. He knew what I was thinking. His eyes flashed, reminding me that acting now would be unwise and reckless.

Dr Wright must have noticed the disgust and fury with which Remus and I were glaring at him, for he added defensively, “I’m not proud of it; these were certainly my lowest moments save when I… well I’ll get to that later. Anyhow, the villagers heard Mary’s sobs and started the rumour that there were ghosts living in the old shack. I encouraged the rumours, or at least I didn’t discourage them.

“Then, all of a sudden, my little Mary was announcing that she was engaged, that she was to be taken away from me; my last living link to my wife. You must understand my position gentlemen.” Dr Wright’s eyes were wide; he looked like he was pleading with Remus and me to put ourselves in his position. “On Wednesday night, I left the house at 6:30 that evening, telling everyone that I was staying the night at a hotel as I had an early conference meeting the next morning. I wasn’t lying but I wasn’t telling the full truth either. I intended to go to Charles’ house and confront him, to tell him to call off the marriage and threaten him with everything within my power. I went to Mary’s room to bid her farewell and left for Charles’. I knocked on the door but there was no reply. The door was left unlocked so I entered. I called for the man but without success. Then I saw a letter lying on the table.

“‘Dearest Charles,’ it read, ‘Father is leaving town tonight for a conference. Perhaps you would like to stay at our house for the night? All my love, Mary.’ I was infuriated. I rushed back to the house but rather than entering through the door, I climbed into Mary’s room through the window and found Charles sitting at her desk, a mischievous smile dancing on his smug face. Anger surged through me and, without thinking, I grabbed the knife I had brought with me, for caution’s sake, and stabbed him in the heart. He gave a strangled sort of scream; it was not loud enough to wake the servants but it was loud enough to cause Mary considerable alarm.

‘Charles?’ she called from the hall. ‘Is everything alright?’ And that was when my world fell apart. Mary entered the room and I stood up so violently that I pulled the knife right out. So many emotions flooded me at once and it was too much for me to handle. I pulled out my gun and shot her. I stood frozen for what felt like eternities, watching my only child fall dead to the floor from a bullet I had shot. The servant’s yelps of concern from downstairs caused me to snap out of my reverie. When I realized what I had done, I dropped the gun, pocketed the knife and scrambled back out the window. I left for L'Hôtel D'Affaires and spent the night there. The rest of the story, you already know gentlemen.” Remus’ look of disgust had not yet faded off his face. My hands had not yet stopped shaking.

“I have alerted the authorities,” said Remus, “and they are waiting for us outside. You will accompany them back to the station and await your trial in jail. If you do not come peacefully, I will use force.” Dr Wright said nothing else but followed Remus and me outside where he was arrested by the county police.

---------

“I believe I owe you an explanation, Sirius,” says Remus once we were seated once more in the comfort of our armchairs in 221B Baker Street. “And an apology. I shouldn’t have suggested that you accompany me on this specific case. Not when the details of it could… resurface unwanted memories.” I shake my head.

“It’s quite alright,” I say.

“No, it’s not,” says Remus, taking my hand in his own. “I forced you to relive your worst memories without so much as a warning, all for my peace of mind. All because I wanted you by my side. It was horribly selfish of me.”

“I would have insisted on accompanying you anyway,” I say. “I want to be by your side, my love. Now, pray tell me about your thought process. How did you solve the case?” This, perhaps, is what I enjoy most about working on cases with Remus. The moment when the case has been solved, the victims avenged, the villains confronted and punished appropriately, and only Remus and I remain, in the living room of our flat, our limbs tangled together as I watch the excitement and passion that radiates from Remus as he explains to me how his extraordinary mind saw what only he could.

“Firstly,” he begins, and already I can hear the shift in his voice. He loves his work. And he shares it with me. It is one of the things I love most about him. (I do say that quite a lot. Perhaps it is simply because I love everything about him.) “I will admit that I entered the case thinking that Williams was very likely the culprit. I consented to conduct the investigation in the case that my client’s instincts proved to be correct but I was almost entirely convinced that the investigation would be worthless. My suspicion first fell upon Dr Wright when I was interrogating him. I asked him what he thought of the match between his daughter and Charles; he said he was looking forward to their marriage. I found this most abnormal as nearly all fathers feel some sadness when their daughters leave their houses for that of another man especially when their wives have passed on. Why should this man be glad to lose his daughter? My immediate response was that he wasn’t, he was merely pretending to avoid suspicion. This, however, was hardly evidence, it was nothing more than a gut feeling.

“So we went to the town pub and learnt about the shack. I followed this by visiting L'Hôtel D'Affaires and inquiring as to the hour at which Dr Wright checked in. As you may recall, he told us that he had checked in at 7:30, an hour after his departure. But at L'Hôtel D'Affaires I was informed that Dr Wright only checked in at 10:30 on Wednesday night. By this point, my theory was formed and I was certain of its accuracy but I still needed proof. Therefore, the following morning I went to the scene of the crime and, after some rummaging about, found Mary Wright’s diary which included Charles’ reply to her letter that invited him over on that fateful night. The diary told me everything I needed to know. Then you and I went to confront Dr Wright, he was rightfully arrested and here we are now.” Remus concludes his explanation with a grim smile.

“Wonderful!” I say, applauding him for his achievement. Remus shrugs but I can see that he is attempting to hide a smile. If I could only shower him with compliments for the rest of my days to see his beautiful smile, I would do so. “You know, detective, one might find it very attractive when you make all these deductions,” I add.

“Oh?” he says, eyebrows raised. “And would this ‘one’ be you, by any chance?”

“Is that another deduction?” I tease.

“That wasn’t something I needed to deduce, love, it’s written all over your gorgeous face,” he says. Then I kiss him slowly, bringing my hand into his hair when I feel his on my waist.

“I do love you, you know,” he says, his lips still lingering on mine, refusing to pull away. “I don’t say it as often as I should but I do. The world can continue to hate it but I will never cease to love you, Sirius.”

“I know,” I reply, allowing my hand to fall and gently brush his cheek. “I love you too.” Remus blushes and I can see the man I fell in love with. Where the rest of the world sees only his brilliant mind and his icy exterior, I see beyond. I see the goodness in his heart, the emotion in his voice, the passion in his eyes, softness of his lips. I see it all and more. He shows it to me and only to me. He lets me have him. And I give him all there is of me in return. It is of this that I think when I lean in to kiss Remus again. And it is of this that I think when he kisses me back.