#the neighbours above have pretty sure change place so they girl is waking up my parents instead of me 🥲

[yoohyeon]

Some random user liked a post of me complaining about my neighbours earlier and f that user cause why are my neighbours playing music and screaming at pass 3am out of a sudden it’s like they predicted it

[bluesfortheredj]

Hitsuzen.

Hitsuzen - A naturally foreordained event. A state in which other outcomes are impossible.

Warning: Talk of finding a body (it is Midsomer after all!)

Chapter 1.

Midsomer county had everything you needed; peaceful scenery, a friendly, tight knit community who couldn’t do enough for their neighbours, a reliable childminder, and a secure job for you alongside one of the people you trusted most in this world. Sarah Barnaby was a family friend who was more like an aunt to you and after all that had happened in your life over the past 18 months, you snapped up the opportunity to move schools and make a new start with her, John and Betty supporting you every step of the way. You’d moved in to a lovely little cottage a matter of minutes away from Sarah and you couldn’t be happier with the place, the thin strands of ivy that creep up around the bricks adding a dash of colour to usually bland looking exterior, and the small garden perfectly sized for you and your little one Evelyn to play in.

“Now you be a good girl and mummy will see you later,” you grin as you hand Evelyn over to Mary the childminder on your way to work, “have fun with Betty!”

You pepper kisses on her chubby cheeks and she giggles as her tiny fingers reach out to your face, then you give a wave to Betty who’s standing next to Mary’s leg, and leave for the school. Sarah had kindly given you a heads up that her school was in need of a technician to help with the GCSE textiles class, and you jumped at the chance, luckily getting the job a couple of weeks later. It was perfect really as Betty and Evelyn were both one and they could play together at the childminder’s during the day, and Sarah could keep an eye on you at work, making sure you were settling in nicely and not being too overwhelmed. It had all seemed to happen right when you needed it after living with the effects of an accident that had drastically changed yours and Evelyn’s lives.

“Morning (Y/N)!” Sarah beams as you get out of your car when you arrive at Causton Comprehensive.

“Good morning Sarah,” you smile, locking your car as you walk towards her for a warm hug.

“Coming in for some coffee?” she asks.

“I’ll just have a crafty cig then I’ll be right in.”

“How’s quitting going?”

“I’m down to two a day now and only at work, so it shouldn’t be long until I’m off them completely!”

“That’s really great news,” she grins, ever the worrier.

She heads towards the entrance to the school while you divert off to the side where there was a smoking shelter which was meant to be for the teachers only, but of course some of the older students took to using it as well during lunch break alone thankfully. It was a lovely school to work in and being able to do something that used what you’d actually studied for at university was a huge bonus. You’d been part of the art department at your previous school, but your true skills always lay within textiles and fashion, so being a technician to the people who had chosen to be on the course always paid off when you managed to help someone create something they’d been struggling with, and the end of year show was something you were itching to be a part of.

It had been winter when you’d moved down to Causton and spring had now well and truly set in, making everything around you that bit more beautiful in the crisp sunlight, even the football field behind the school was looking especially pretty this morning with the dew cover grass being illuminated by the orange and pink sky above. You finish your cigarette quickly then head inside to the warm staff room where the smell of coffee hits you as soon as you open the door, and everyone it crowded around a fresh packet of biscuits on the table. You’re greeted warmly by everyone as always then Sarah hands you a mug of steaming coffee and nods towards the sweet treats before they’re scoffed by everyone else, so you quickly step in to take one then resume your position just outside of the circle. You were unsure as to whether Sarah had told anyone of your situation or if they were always this friendly, but whatever it was you knew that this was a place you wanted to stay.

“Good morning!” Adam sings as he enters the room.

You can’t help but smile at his relentless cheer this early in the morning and he shoots a wink your way as he passes by. Adam was the teacher you worked alongside day in, day out, and he was the type of person who you would never have guessed taught textiles at GCSE level to be honest; he wore almost the same shirt and knitted vest combination every day with only very subtle variations in pattern, he was in his mid thirties so only around five years older than you, he had divorced from his wife after finding out she was having an affair with her boss, and he had a kind face with thick black hair that was always the right side of messy. He was such a lovely man, someone who was always there when you needed to vent, and he was quiet yet stern, so the students could have a laugh with him but knew that they couldn’t take it too far when it came to chatting amongst themselves.

“I got you another biscuit,” he grins as he comes to stand next to you, “you only ever take one and you should always take an even number from the pack.”

“Thank you,” you chuckle, popping it in your mouth.

“Well I’d better be getting to my office,” Sarah sighs, “have a good day everyone!”

“How’s my favourite girl today?” Adam asks.

“Evelyn is fine thank you, I actually had to wake her up this morning so I think that she was finally catching up on the sleep she missed out on the other night!”

“Aww, good to hear,” he smiles, “and how are you?”

“Better,” you nod before taking a sip of coffee, “and you?”

“That’s really great (Y/N),” he says as he rubs your back, “I’m all good! Right, you ready to face those nutters?”

“Absolutely!” you exclaim.

The mid week slump must have been getting to a few students today as the classroom was suspiciously quiet as the kids got on with their themes for the end of year show, but Adam soon gets them all involved in a group chat when he asks them each to call out their final decisions on a theme to the rest of the class. There’s light laughter that rolls out across the room at some of the ideas, but it’s all in good cheer and everyone leaves the first class a little more perky than when they entered thankfully, hopefully setting them up for the rest of their day. The next class is much the same and both you and Adam agree that Wednesday mornings were the equivalent to Sunday evenings; full of dread and fatigue for what was to come. Lunchtime soon comes around and by then you both need some fresh air to try and shake off your own tiredness that had somehow transferred from the pupils to you.

“I’m just popping out,” you say, waving around a single cigarette.

“Still just two?”

“Yep, it’ll be none in no time.”

“That’s what I like to hear!”

You head towards the exit while he continues to the staff room and you turn the corner to the smoking shelter to see a couple of students already standing there so you keep walking for a little bit towards the edge of the field and decide to light up at a safe distance from the pupils. Tall bushes give the school privacy from the road and as you pace the perimeter of them an object catches your eye as the sun reflects off of it, and as you get closer to the source you realise it’s a large signet ring. Taking one last puff of your cig you throw the stub to the ground and give it a stamp with your foot before stepping towards the piece of jewellery and squatting down to pick it up in case a student had lost it. Your hand reaches out towards the grass but as it nears the gold ring something makes you turn your head to the small gap underneath the bushes and that’s when you see a man as white as a sheet laying there with his eyes wide open. You stand up with a gasp and look around to make sure no students were nearby, then with shaking hands you slip your phone out of your pocket and phone Sarah.

“Hello,” she answers cheerily, “where are you?”

“Sarah… There’s a body in the bushes at the side of the school… I… We need to get the students inside.”

“Oh my god, I’ll phone John on my way down, stay where you are.”

It doesn’t take long for Sarah to reach you while the other teachers go around the outside areas to get the students back inside the building without raising too much suspicion about what was happening, and it’s only when she puts her arms around you that you realise you were quivering with shock.

“(Y/N), come and sit down,” Sarah says quietly, “police are on their way, John will be here soon okay?”

She guides you over to the smoking shelter where there was a bench you could perch on and sure enough the police arrive within a couple of minutes with John and another man heading straight for you both as soon as they park up. Sarah’s arms stay around your body as John sits the other side of you and the other man stands in front, all of them watching your still shaking body with sympathetic looks.

“(Y/N), can you tell me what happened?” John asks softly as you slowly lift your head to look at him.

You take a deep breath, “there’s a man over there,” you point towards the bushes, “I saw a ring on the ground and as I went to pick it up I saw him laying there… his eyes… they’re…” you gasp as you think about the frozen look on his face and John puts his hand over yours gently.

“Okay,” he sighs, “it’s alright. I’m going to leave DS Nelson here to sit with you, is that okay? I just need to talk to Sarah.”

You look from John to the tall man with a warm smile who stands in front of you and you nod in response as Sarah and John stand to let Nelson take a seat next to you. John directs the police officers to where you pointed and they set up a closed off area and put up a white tent to shield any on lookers from the body, then he takes Sarah to one side to talk as Nelson’s eyes stay fixed on your shaking hands that are clasped on your lap.

“I’m Charlie,” he says, trying to distract you from your terrified thoughts.

“I’m (Y/N),” you reply, unable to even turn to look at him.

“Is there anyone I can call for you?” he offers.

You gasp as you think of Evelyn, and suddenly you need to be with her, to cuddle her and inhale her familiar comforting scent, “Evelyn, I need to pick up Evelyn!”

Sarah looks around as she hears your daughter’s name then comes over and places her hand on your back, “I’m sure Charlie won’t mind taking you to pick up Evelyn, and then he can drop you at ours,” she smiles.

“Yours?” you question with a frown.

“Stay at ours tonight,” she nods, “you’ve had a shock. Charlie, will you sit with her until we get back? You can stay for dinner as well.”

“Of course Sarah, if (Y/N) doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” you shrug, finally looking up at him properly and being taken aback by how bright the blue of his eyes were.

Sarah sighs happily then heads into the school ready to send the students home and Charlie directs you to his car where you both get in silently.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who’s Evelyn?”

“My daughter,” you smile, “she goes to the same childminder as Betty.”

“Ah! Do you need to let your husband know what’s going on?”

“I… There’s no one that I need to inform,” you reply.

Charlie nods then starts the car and soon enough your shock turns to calm in his presence.

@lv7867 @lovemarvelousfics @fuckyou-imspiderman @aynsleywalker @timeandpixiedust @the-baby-bookworm @pink-lemo @chlobo6 @queenslandlover-93

[xiubaek-13]

Case File 01

A/N: This is a continuation on the AU I created for Case 99. It is a standalone one shot but there is background info that you’ll pick up on more if you’re read the first fic. Let me know what you think :)

Pairing: Suho x Reader

Warnings: Supernatural themes, violence, angst, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, manipulation etc. This will deal with some darker themes but there is some light hearted fun in here too, kind of.

Genre: Fantasy/Supernatural

Word Count: 8,488

Summary: Sometimes people are not who they seem. Sometimes the harbor secrets that they would take to the grave. Sometimes people play with your heart on purpose in a sick and twisted game purely for their own amusement. When they think they’ve won you strike, because only you decide what breaks you.

One stupid mistake led you here and now you can’t escape. For a time you were happier than you’d ever been, but then there are times when you remember who you were and where you’re from. Will you choose to stay or will you find your way home?

I wonder if they’ll bargain with me? Do they even do that in this city? You stared at the small fruit stall, filled with it’s overpriced produce, then back at the small pile of coins in your hands. After a few days of greasy take away and dull looking food your body was craving something healthy. It just so happened that you strolled past a fruit store on your way towards the center of town…well what you assumed was the center. You’d decided that the giant casino was the middle of the city but you could be wrong, not that you really cared. This place was just a pit stop on your way to the coast. You grew up in the mountains and always dreamed of a trip to the sea. You wanted to watch the sunrise over the ocean to make a brand new day and to feel the cool water and sand between your toes as you did.

Your parents had always turned their noses up at the idea of a seaside holiday, the air was too salty down there apparently. Try as they might, they never dissuaded you from your dream holiday and as the years went by, your desire to visit the ocean only grew. Your parents did their best to try and change your mind (not that you ever understood what their problem with the ocean was), always telling you horror stories of the city that you’d have to pass through before you could get to the coast. A city that would corrupt and deceive you. A city that was full of dark alleys and people with secrets. These stories had the opposite effect than what was intended - now you wanted to spend a few days in this supposedly evil city. The storied made you interested in the corrupt nature of man and made you wonder about the cityfolk. Would they be cruel and jaded or kind and misguided?

Above all your father had told you never to trust the people you met between the city and the sea. He told you that they would manipulate your kind heart and twist you in ways that you wouldn’t realise until it was too late and he would not be able to protect you. If wasn’t for the worried look in his eyes when he spoke you would have thought nothing of his warning but something about the way he spoke and looked at you in that moment made you treat his words with the seriousness they deserved.

After three days in the city you could definitely agree with your parents about the cruel nature of man but not in the ways they might think. The residents of the town, as far as you were aware, were an even mix between the hardworking, honest folk and the scheming degenerate and power hungry rich who ruled the place. You’d seen things you couldn’t explain, things you couldn’t unsee and heard things you never wanted to hear again as long as you lived but even with the hidden dangers, the city had charm. It lured you in and made you want to stay just one more day…which is how you were still here after three days.

In the mountains you bartered with farmers and traded goods with neighbours but down here haggling was a much more intricate sport. Still, you were going to try with the fruit store owner because of how good those cherries looked in the front window, and the peaches. You passed through the door causing the small chime to sound as you entered. A short woman with kind eyes emerged from the back of the store and asked what you were after. You complimented her on the quality of her produce, chatting about where she sourced it from since there were no farms in this urban jungle and she was more than happy to chat away to you about the lovely gentleman who grew all sort of produce in his orchard between the city and the sea. When you told her of your childhood in the mountains she took great interest in learning about why you have strayed so far from home and if you were safe in this city. She reminded you a lot of your parents with her concern for your well-being and cryptic messages about the unsafe parts of town.

“Girl, I will make you a deal,” she began. “I will give you some of my fruit free of charge if you tell me two things.”

“What things?” You asked, puzzled by her odd question.

“Why you dream of the sea and what your name is.” He responded, her expression giving away nothing.

“That’s all?” You asked.

“Yes dear.”

“You can call me Jan-” You coughed midway through saying your name. Something told you not to give out your real name and before you could ponder your reasoning you found yourself giving the kind old woman an alias. “Iseul, you can call me Iseul.” She smiled. Then you proceeded to tell her about why you so strongly desired to visit the sea. True to her word, she gave you a small basket filled with peaches, cherries and apples.

“Go my dear, thank you for brightening my day with your stories and remember, though darkness may lurk around every corner it’s the man in front of you that you should be wary of for sometimes the wicked will say things just to confuse you.”

You left the little shop with your fruit basket, waving to the owner as you closed the door behind you. What a strange woman you thought to yourself. She had been kind but she had said many confusing things that now replayed through your mind.

As you made your way back to your hotel you were so consumed by your thoughts and the old woman’s words that you didn’t hear the man from the casino calling out to you until it was too late. The fading sound of “Watch out! Hey! Stop!” and the blurring image of the seaside and the casino and blonde haired man who tried to get your attention brought you back to your senses, only to make you think you’d been drugged.

The world swirled around you until you were engulfed in salt water. The floor fell out beneath you as you struggled to stay afloat. You’d never learned to swim - you’d never run the risk of drowning in the ocean up in the mountains after all. You gasped for air as you felt yourself slipping beneath the water. How the hell did this happen? Did that old lady drug me? Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming… and if I die in my dream I’ll wake up right? Your mind was racing as your lungs started to burn with the need for oxygen but you couldn’t get back to the surface no matter how hard you tried. When you had sunk further down your foot and somehow become stuck. You let go of the fruit basket and tried frantically to release your foot from the net it had become stuck in before you drowned, the very real fear of dying finally settling in.

Nothing worked. Your lungs felt like they were on fire as you tugged at the net, trying to loosen its hold on you. You knew you wouldn’t be able to prevent yourself from trying to gulp in a breath, which would only serve to fill your lungs with water and bring you closer to drowning to death. This was the exact opposite of your dream of being in the sea. This was a nightmare.

Realising that there was nothing more you could do you thought of your parents, of how you’d miss them and the little home you grew up in in the mountains. You’d miss your father’s lame jokes and your mother’s persistent nagging about how you should really hurry up and pick one of the farmers sons to wed. None of that would occur now, not when you were second away from blacking out from lack of oxygen. Unable to hold out any longer you open your mouth and water pours into it as you try to breathe, knowing full well that it will not work. The last thing you feel is the burning of your lungs and the salt water as your whole world fades to black. A glint of gold is the last thing you see before you bid the world adieu.

***

“Find out how she got here.” A voice commanded. The voice was male, that much you knew, but it had that tone that people in power get. Unrelenting and lacking in empathy. “There must be a tear near the border.” What the fuck is he talking about? Is this the afterlife? I sure as shit hope not because this guy sounds like a jerk and I do not want to be stuck with him for all of eternity. Your thoughts raced as you slowly regained consciousness, remembering walking on a street…then water, lots of water… then drowning? You were pretty sure you’d drowned and it had been awful. “She appeared in the East Sea and I do not want to see either of you until you find out where that tear is in the city. For all we know spies have been getting in again.”

Whoever it was that he was speaking to mumbled their response, making it too difficult for you to hear but you caught every second or third word. “Prince… Court… hunt… soon…”

This seemed to please the first man for a few moments. You decided it was as good a time as any to let them know you were conscious. You coughed and very slowly sat up, rubbing your eyes before opening them and looking around the room, if you could even call it that. It was a massive sprawling room with ornate carvings, there were windows all throughout the room that allowed the sunlight and pleasant sea breeze to flow through. You had been lying on the floor at the base of a small set of three stairs that led up to a dias. On the dias was an incredibly intricate wood and coral chair that could only be described as a throne.  There was a man standing next to you and another man seated in the throne. You blinked a few times and shook your head, not believing the sight in front of you.

Before you could open your mouth to speak the seated man spoke. “How did you get here girl?” His demanding tone grating on you.

“I don’t even know where I am so how am I supposed to know how I got here?” You responded curtly.

“Who are you? Surely you know that much.”

You bit your tongue because whilst this guy seemed to be a grade a jerk, he was sitting on a throne so you figured you’d give him a few minutes before you gave him a piece of your mind. “My name is Ja-. Iseul. My name is Iseul and I’m a tourist. Who are you?”

The man next to you scoffed. “You should address the Prince with more respect human.”

“Sorry, what?”

“I forget that humans are slower. I. Said. You. Should. Address. The. Prince. With. More. Respect.” He enunciated each word as though you hadn’t heard him the first time. You rolled your eyes at him before speaking.

“I heard you clearly the first time, there’s no need to be a dick about it. I said what because I clearly just gave my name so I have no idea why you decided to refer to me as human…like who does that? Weirdo, and secondly, Prince? Of where? Of what? I just told both of you I had no idea where I am.” You snapped.

The man next to you turned away from you, staring daggers at the supposed Prince. “Are you just going to let this…this human disrespect you like this?!”

The man on the throne couldn’t look less interested in the scene playing out before him if he tried. He lifted his gaze to the man and spoke in that flat commanding timbre. “D.O, I believe I gave you a job to do. Did I not?”

“Yes.”

“Then go do it.” When D.O doesn’t immediately take his leave he adds “Unless you want to answer to me when more strays or enemies come through into my land.”

With a hasty bow he takes his leave.

“I apologise for my emissary. He can be quite,” he paused. “hotheaded.” The man turned his gaze to you, his gaze pinning you to the spot. “Now. Do you truly remember nothing about how you got here?”

“This room? No I don’t.  I remember going to the fruit store and talking to a strange old lady. Then I was walking back to my hotel along the street when everything swirled and then I was drowning. That’s all I remember.” You weren’t lying, you really had no idea how you had gotten here. You were sticking with the being drugged explanation because honestly? Nothing else made any sense or even seemed possible.

He sighed. “Which city were you in?” You described the city to the best of your abilities, which was mainly surface details since you were only a tourist - hotel, fruit store, odd streets, the casino… There wasn’t really any way you could know the truth of the city.

“Lankhmar? I think that’s how you say it.”

Upon hearing the town name the prince held up a hand to stop you speaking. He then called out for a messenger. When one appeared, bowing and gesticulating far more than was necessary, he gave them strict instructions. “Go to my emissary before he leaves and tell him to check the mortal plane as well, the tear must join to one of the districts in Lankhmar. One of my brothers must not have properly sealed the rift upon his return.” The messenger resumed his excessive bowing as he backed out of the room, you could hear the quickening of his footsteps as soon as he was out of sight. Seriously who in the hell was this guy and why was everyone treating him like he was the ruler of the world?

“Who are you?” You asked.

He raised a brow at you. “Very bold of you to ask me questions like that.”

You were growing exasperated with this pointless exchange. “Listen. I’m thankful that you didn’t let me drown but I honestly have no idea where I am or who you are or why everyone is walking on eggshells in your presence. Give me something to work with here. What do I even call you?” You needed something tangible to cling to, anything to keep you from thinking that you’d either died and that this was the afterlife, which if it was - it could do with a severe attitude adjustment, or that you’d snapped and gone crazy.

“You fell through a tear in reality,” Ok so you’d gone crazy, at least you could come to terms with that now. “And you appeared in my court, Luskan, though it is more commonly known as The Summer Court,” You’d gone crazy and fallen into one of your childhood fairytales. It could be worse, at least the weather was pleasant here, like a beach holiday… maybe this was the old woman’s fault after all, she’d banged on about the sea and been all weird and cryptic after all. “If I’d allowed you to pollute my pristine waters I’d have hell to pay with the seafolk.” Did the mania induced creation of your brain have to be such a dick though? “What’s with your face Iseul?”

You froze when you heard your name. Looking up at him you noticed the perplexed look he had on his face. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve had to interact with mortals, is something confusing you? I forget how simple your kind are.”

You scoffed at him. “You’d think you’d be more relaxed given you live in paradise but so far everyone I’ve met here is a complete jerk. And what’s with this mortal crap anyway? We’re all people. Or are you some sort of elitist rich jerk who thinks everyone is beneath him?”

“This is going to sound crazy to you, but it is not my fault that your parents decided to shelter you from the truth. It’s actually a miracle that you’ve survived this long while being this blissfully ignorant. Humans make up roughly 60% of the world’s population. The remainder are improvements on the species.”  The way this man could say so many words without providing you with any answers was starting to piss you off.

“Is this your way of telling me that magic is real? Summer Court? What are you, a fairy prince?” You scoffed.

Your words must have hit a nerve with him since his next words were ground out through gritted teeth. “Do not call me or my kind fairies.” He took a shuddering breath to try and regain his composure. “The supernatural are real. The books you were read as a child about fantasy lands and monsters? Those are history books, dumbed down for your kind to understand.”

“What?” Surely he was lying. Magic wasn’t real. Fairies weren’t real. No, all of that was from your bedtime stories. This was all in your head, it had to be. Why would your parents hide this sort of information from you? They wouldn’t lie to you, you knew them, trusted them. This man, however, you absolutely did not trust.

“I don’t have the time for this. Follow me, and keep up.” He turned on his heel and briskly left the room. You scrambled to follow. He weaved through the outdoor corridors of what you could only refer to as a palace because, it was fucking huge and well, there were servants so you had to assume he was royalty of some sort. You followed through the terraces that were lined with plant life and glittering lights, silk draping from gazebos, flapping in the light breeze. Truly, it was like a little Mediterranean fairy tale come to life and you could only compare it to the images from your storybooks but you didn’t dare use the ‘f’ word again since it got his hackles up last time.

He came to a stop in front of a set of double doors made of driftwood, held together with golden twine. “In here is my library. You will remain here until I send my emissary to fetch you. I would suggest that you use that time to educate yourself on the working of the world that you live in. I’ll provide only one hint. My kind never lie, but we don’t always tell the whole truth.” With that he ushered you in and closed the doors behind you. You didn’t hear them lock but they wouldn’t budge when you tried to open them.

Resigned to your current fate you decided it couldn’t hurt to sift through some of the books. Books were friends, they never led you astray. It was people you’d always had issues with, never books. You wandered through the library, awestruck by its beauty. It was a mixture of ornate fixtures, gold threads and salvaged wood and plant matter. It was unlike anything you had ever laid your eyes on before.

“A Brief History of Everything” seemed like as good a place to start as any. It started much like the stories from your childhood, only with more war and bloodshed. It spoke of a great war between humans and the supernatural. The war was multifaceted, with the supernatural beings also fighting against each other. Vampires, demons, fae, changelings, ghouls, elementals, witches and wizards were just a few of the mentioned species, it was a lot for you to take in. If this information was to be true then you had to question your whole upbringing. You closed the book and searched for another. “A Breakdown in Species - The Complete Beastiary” was your next pick. This one told you the features and builds of each race and how they most commonly fit into the mortal world. Unlike the fae, most of the supernatural resided in the human world, only the fae and elementals could exist between the planes. Demons still had the netherworld but only the highest ranking could travel at will.

You continued to look through tome after tome, collecting as much intel as you could. It didn’t matter if this world was real or not, you decided, you just had to play by its rules in order to survive and if there was one thing that you excelled at, it was research.

***

“Why is the human still here?” D.O asked when he brought you down to the edge of the palace, to a small pool that met the ocean.

“The human is right here, and she has a name.” You bit out.

He ignored you as he waited for the prince to respond. You almost laughed at how frustrated he was at not being answered immediately, the prince was otherwise occupied. He was waist deep in the water, tending to a turtle. He might be a jerk but you could not deny that he had a nice back, not that you were staring. “The human shall remain in the palace until we can determine the source of the tear and patch it. I’ve yet to determine if she is a threat to the court.”

“Why not throw her in the dungeons if you think she’s a threat? Why treat her like anything that has worth?” You were pretty sure you hated this emissary. Out of the two of them, he was the bigger jerk. He seemed to want nothing to do with you and you were pretty sure if the prince was distracted long enough, that he’d kill you. Somewhere along the line he’d either been taught to hate humans or one had hurt him so much that he felt the need to take it out on every other human he ran into.

The prince turned to face the two of you, and if you thought his back was pleasant to stare at then the sight of his chest and torso was a delight. Focus. The sunlight reflected off the water, highlighting the droplets of water glistening on his skin. Focus of his face, not his abs, focus on his fucking face! He looked calm as he stood before you, as though the water was centering him. “Until I decide that she is to be treated as a prisoner I will keep her in the palace, where I can observe her. Did you know that her parents neglected to inform her of the existence of any other intelligent life?” He smirked at his emissary who scoffed and continued to look as though he wanted nothing more than to dropkick you into the ocean and never look back. “Was your time in the library enlightening?”

You nodded. “Yes, I think I’ve learned the basics. It seems there has been a lot omitted from my understanding of the worlds history. There is a lot to catch up on.”

“Su- Your Highness, can I take my leave? We have a lead on the whereabouts of the tear and I need to gather the team so that we can patch it.” D.O waited for the prince to respond.

He nodded. “You may go. Report back to me when you return.”

The emissary wasted no time, you weren’t sure if he was just eager to do his job or if he hated being around you that much that he had to disappear that quickly. “So,” You started. You’d decided you were going to attempt to breach this topic the next time you spoke. “You’re Fae.”

“Rudimentary deduction darling. Did my books not teach you anything of worth?”

“Cut me some slack, I’ve only been learning for a few hours.” He cocked a brow at you, waiting for you to continue speaking. “There are seven courts in the Fae lands. There was conjecture about the number of princes, some texts cite seven while others cite nine, though from what I could work out there are seven princes and two emissaries. Each prince has an elemental affinity, though the true nature of those affinities is not recorded but they require you to attune to the land and your presence helps it to thrive. You rule the Summer Court, and since you rescued me from drowning plus the whole expensive seaside palace aesthetic you have going on here, I figure you have a water affinity. How am I doing so far?”

“So far it would appear that your time was not wasted.” He replied as he lowered himself in the water up to his shoulders. “The texts don’t include much information on the affinities because they differ for each prince. Attuning to the land can be done in multiple ways as well. For example, I’m attuning with the land right now, as I was earlier when you startled the turtles in their nesting grounds when you appeared, and did your very best to die.”

“Hey! I had no choice in the matter, you know this.” You huffed.

“I do, the turtles however, did not. I’ve since explained the situation to them so that they could shift their nesting spot until we repair the tear that you fell through.” He dove under the water, a tail, shimmering and covered in scales that glittered in the sunlight, appeared, shocking you. It must have been written on your face as clear as day because when he surfaced much closer to the edge of the pool that you stood at, pushing his wet hair back and resting on his arms against the side of the pool, his tail shimmering beneath the surface, it was like a slow motion scene from a movie and you had to shake your head to bring yourself back to the present, he smirked at you. “What?”

“Get fucked. How can you be fae & a merman?” You blurted.

He laughed at your outburst. “It’s part of the affinity. I can change shape at will in a large enough body of water. I’m not one of the merfolk, they live on the outskirts of my court, odd bunch. The tail is simply more practical for me to move around the aquatic areas of the court.”

“Show off.” You muttered as you sat down by the edge of the pool.

He grabbed your legs and pulled you into the pool, pinning you between the wall and his body as he glared at you. “I’m showing leniency since this is your first day knowing about the existence of supernatural creatures but don’t be fooled into thinking that you can be so cavalier with me in the future. I am the ruler of this court, you’d be wise to show more respect.”

Your brain told you to shut up, baiting him further would likely result in him drowning you and you’d had more than enough experience with that for one day. You hated the way he and his emissary spoke to you but your sharp tongue wasn’t going to keep you alive if you let it get the better of you. He trailed his finger down your cheek, under your jaw and lifted your chin, tilting your face up towards him. “I think for now it would be better for you to be a little more subservient.” He leant in, his lips pressing against yours as he kissed you. All logic told you to pull away but something about his lips was intoxicating. You gave in to his kiss and felt a pulse wash over your body, leaving a strange tingling feeling. If you were smarted you would have known that the fae could control you in many ways, intimate contact was just one of the more enjoyable ways for them to do so.

***

Days blurred together after you kissed the prince. All you wanted to do was be near him, please him and make him happy. You didn’t even think about returning home. You were blissfully ignorant of the dangerous situation you’d gotten yourself into. He’d held back from further physical contact after that first day. He saw how instantly devoted to him you were and he relaxed, you would not be something he had to worry about for the time being. Unless he gave you a task to do you would follow him around like a lost puppy. He tested you by having you sit with him during one of his meetings, telling you to remain next to him but to keep yourself amused while he worked. Afterwards he questioned you, happy when you admitted that you hadn’t paid attention to the meeting, on the verge of tears when you thought that admission would upset him.

You played along as the spell wore off, keeping up the charade as best you could while you learned about how he truly felt about you. He didn’t care for you, he hardly even thought of you. No, you were simply a new toy for him to play with and you knew that you needed to find a way out before he grew tired of you. Things went swimmingly until he noticed you becoming more aware of your surroundings. He couldn’t have you learning too much about him or his court, not that you would ever leave this place alive. He thought that after the initial kiss you’d remain under his spell but it appeared that he would have to reinforce it for it to last. That night he’d brought you to his chambers and made you cum so many times you forgot your name.

When you dreamt at night, your brain would try to remind you of the life you’d left behind, of what you needed to return to and the dangers of the prince’s court, but by the time you awoke he washed those memories away as he made your body sing in ecstacy. You spent most of your time wrapped in bedsheets, writhing beneath the prince as he used your body for his own pleasure. You learned his name was Suho, he got off on hearing you beg for him. You were addicted to his touch, eagerly awaiting his return to his chambers so he could have his way with you again. You were certain that he craved you, that the sweet nothings he would sometimes whisper in your ear were true. After all, he had told you that the fae can’t lie. You were too drunk on him to realise that these words were not romantic, they were simply appreciation for how your body felt and reacted to him, nothing more.

When you had to leave the bed you loved so much you were barely dressed in anything that could be referred to as clothes. In your mind you felt liberated and sexy, desired and loved when in reality he was parading around his plaything for the rest of the court to see. The sheer pieces of fabric he adorned your body with left little to the imagination. He didn’t care for you but under the haze of his spell, one he made sure to strengthen every night, you truly thought that he loved you. He hadn’t had a human plaything before, he’d alway thought it was beneath him but his brothers had often insisted that having one was an immense amount of fun.

He was beginning to see the truth to his brothers words. He recalled the words of the Autumn Prince “When you grow tired of fucking them, the new game is breaking their minds and watching them beg for death. They are truly pathetic creatures.” He’d remembered how his brother had laughed at how one such pet had begged for the mercy of his fire to end her life, because if he didn’t love her then how could anyone?

“Suho, I have an update for you.” D.O’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“What is it?” He replied.

“The tear has been patched, it was located in the demon district, right near The Cardinal. The seven deny any knowledge of the tear but unlike our kind, they are well known for their lies.” He paused, sneering at the mention of the demons. “Regardless, it is sealed and warded on both sides of the tear. I sent word to the other courts to see if any of our brothers had visited the area but everyone who has responded has been less than polite about telling me that they would not be stupid enough to jump planes in any district other than the fae controlled one. Sehun & Xiumin were most recently in the mortal realm but they both used the bar as their means of travel.”

“Who hasn’t responded?” He asked.

“The solar courts. I sent word via their emissary but Baekhyun, Chen & Lay have not answered us. I’ll check in with Kai tomorrow. Until then, is there anything you need?” He asked.

“If they don’t answer by tomorrow we’ll have to pay them a visit.” He had no desire to see his brothers from the solar courts, they were much more eccentric than the seasonal court princes. “I’ll have you visit Chen. I’m not in the mood to be electrocuted again, no matter how funny he thinks it is.I’ll see to the other two.”

“I would normally object to setting foot in the Night Court but Chen is the least bothersome when compared to the other two.” He shuddered as he recalled his last encounter with his Day Court brother. “Will you be bringing the human?”

Suho pondered bringing you along. He was pretty sure his spell over you wouldn’t wear off before he returned, and as much fun as it would be to distract his brothers with his human plaything, he needed them to focus. “No, she’ll be too much of a distraction for them. I’ll never get an answer out of them if she’s there.”

“I’d say she wouldn’t survive Lay, but we both know that he’d restore her physical body once he finished having his sadistic brand of fun.”

“His gifts come in useful during times of conflict.” Suho reasoned.

“You’ve never had to be healed by him have you?” D.O asked. His brother shook his head in response. “He can heal all wounds in a matter of minutes, that much is true, but he can only heal wounds that, if left untreated, would kill you.” He paused, taking a breath to calm himself. Suho waited patiently for his brother to continue speaking. “In order to heal me, he had to bring me to the brink of death first and he gets very creative in how he does that.”

The two brothers continued to plan out their potential journey. Agreeing that if they had to visit the solar courts, it would be smarter to visit Day & Night separately and tackle Dawn together. Without the help of their other emissary travel would take longer. By the time he got to bed that night Suho was too exhausted to be bothered with using you for pleasures of the flesh, sleep sought him out the moment his body connected to the mattress.

When no world came from Kai the following day they wasted no time in preparing for their journey. Suho had far too many things to organise before leaving, ensuring the palace ran smoothly, leaving instructions with his second in command to leave you in his room. He was sure that his spell would not wear off in the two to three days that he’d be gone.

What he was unaware of, due to his ignorance, was that the influence he had over you would normally take weeks to wear off, given how often he had been fucking you, but it diminished at an accelerated rate the further away from you he was. The first day he was gone you did nothing but roll about in the bed, imagining the ways in which you could service him upon his return but as night crept in you started to waver, finally feeling curious enough to wander back to the library.

In there you found books on fae spells and how they had a long history of toying with humans. It made your skin crawl. For the first time in weeks you started to think that maybe he didn’t care for you, maybe he was just using you. The thought was too depressing for you to dwell on, after all, you were stuck here, and if you were going to be stuck here you might as well believe that it was by choice.

You tossed and turned all night, dreaming of home and of the strange woman you had encountered all of those weeks ago. She’d asked why you dreamt of the sea? Now the thought of it made you sick. You needed to explore, to find the one area of this court that was not by the seaside.

In the early hours of dawn you fled the palace, thankful that all of Suho’s guards paid you no attention, thinking you were wandering about in a haze. At least he’d had the decency to tell is guards that you were off limits. You were his plaything and he did not like to share. You wandered down corridor after corridor, weaving your way down to the ground, then begun your journey West. To the East was nothing but ocean, and you figured if you headed West you would eventually find a spot where you couldn’t hear the sea or taste the salt in the air.

You hadn’t realised how weak you’d become, but the lack of proper nourishment made itself clear the further you trekked. You felt dizzy and hot but you pressed on until your body gave out on you, collapsing into the soft grass at your feet. Grass, not sand. If you’d had any liquid left in your body you could have cried. You never thought you’d be this happy to see grass again, it was almost sad. You curled up, hoping that you were safe, though not really caring, and waited for some of your strength to return. You knew there was no way you’d make it back to the palace before Suho returned and once he worked out that you’d strayed from his bed… well you couldn’t be sure how much longer he’d keep you around. You’d like to think that if he cared at all he’d forgive you and let you visit home but you would be foolish to believe your own lies.

***

“You look like shit.” The voice startled you. You couldn’t even pretend to still be asleep because you’d felt your body jump at his words. Slowly you opened your eyes, expecting the worst. What you hadn’t expected was to see that it was now night time and that a short, but respectful distance from you sat a man draped in an intricate robe, tending to a small campfire. He tossed a blanket towards you as he began cooking something over the fire. Your stomach grumbled at the sight of the meat roasting. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous for a human to be out all by herself in these lands?” He asked.

You sat up, wrapping the blanket around yourself as the thin flimsy fabric of your clothing no longer felt liberating but rather, you felt too exposed. You stared at the man, trying to work out what he was and if you could tell him the truth or if that was just likely to get you killed. His eyes met yours but you did not see any malice in them. All you saw was kindness and wisdom. This man had to be older than he looked but you got the feeling, one you had no way of reasoning out logically, that he would not harm you. “I had to leave the palace.” You started.

“The clothing, or lack thereof kind of gave that away. I am not here to judge, and I am not a member of this court. I’m only here because certain plants grow here and I needed to restock my stores. Will you tell me your story in exchange for a meal and advice?” His tone held no judgement and you felt oddly at ease. It could be another trick but you were just so tired of having no one to talk to that you decided to throw caution to the wind and accept this strangers offer.

You nodded and moved closer to the fire to warm yourself. “I was visiting Lankhmar, I don’t even know how long ago… it feels like months now, and I was on my way back to my hotel after visiting the market when I fell through a tear. I landed in the ocean to the East, near the palace and started to drown. Something or someone saved me and when I came to the prince and his emissary questioned me.” You paused, unsure of how much to tell, unsure of how much you wanted to have to admit was true. “I was kept by the prince, I thought… I thought that he cared for me b-but now I’m not so sure. I left the palace. I don’t know why but I just needed to find somewhere that didn’t smell of salt, somewhere I couldn’t hear the waves crashing.” You were shaking by the time you finished telling him your story. He’d go back and ask further details as he slowly pulled the whole thing from you.

“The fae are tricky creatures. The princes especially. Some are twisted beyond repair, using and discarding human playthings with ease. Others, like the Summer prince, have not been known to use humans so for him to have kept you, he must have felt something for you. Now this is not to say that he hasn’t abused his power over you or that he has treated you with care, because he hasn’t. He has used you to satiate his own needs but clearly he did not realise that his influence over you would wear off faster when he was away.” He sat back and handed you a skewer of meat. You waited a few moments before you gave into your hunger and began eating, careful to not burn your mouth on the food.

The meat was unbelievably delicious and tender, you only wished there were like ten more skewers. The man handed you a bowl of broth and tore you off some bread to have with it. As he ate he ruminated over your current situation. “I can offer two options to you, but ultimately, the decision is yours to make. One, you can stay here and leave with me tomorrow. I can return you to Lankhmar and you can adjust yourself back into life there, or, option two, I can provide you with a charm that will negate the princes hold over you. It will not last for more than a few days but it will show you if he truly cares for you or not. I will only be in these lands until the sun sets tomorrow, after that the tear I came through will be sealed.”

“Who are you?” You asked.

“I’m just an old mage who isn’t a half bad cook.” He chuckled. “You can call me Siwon.” He smiled warmly at you.

***

You trudged back through the hills the following day as you tried to keep your tears at bay. You’d been stupid, hoping that if you gave him a chance that he’d tell you all of the things you longed to hear. The mage’s charm worked and for the first time you truly saw how Suho treated you behind closed doors. He was not soft or loving, he was selfish, taking what he needed and not caring about your desires. You’d made one simple request and he had denied you. You knew that you needed to leave, this place would be your grave otherwise.

You arrived at Siwon’s campsite with moments to spare. The sun was beginning its descent in the sky, casting a pinkish glow across the sky “Please,” you puffed, having pushed your body to its limits to get here in time. “Take me back, I can’t. I can’t. I ca-”

“Shh child. I understand.” His voice was calming. He took a step towards you and wiped the tear that had started to fall from your cheek. He spoke gently. “I’ll return you to Lankhmar but understand that it will take time for you to readjust. Food will taste bland, the colours will seem dull and you will feel empty. Time heals all wounds. I’ll ward your room against danger and I’ll leave a protection charm with you in case they come for you. I might be old but I’m not useless.” He held out his hand and waited for you to take it before stepping back through the tear.

***

Either Siwon’s protection spells had worked or no one had bothered to try and track you down because after a month of constantly looking over your shoulder as you wallowed in your heartbreak, you’d finally started to move on. You weren’t expecting the heartbreak, especially since you knew he’d used you but regardless of the spell you’d been under, you’d fallen for him. There had been moments, fleeting moments but still, the existed, where he had shown kindness to you. It was those moments that you struggled to let go of, hoping that there was a shred of decency in him.

You’d been gone for a little over five months, and when you returned you’d viewed the city in a completely different way. Before he’d left Siwon had told you how to spot tears so that you didn’t accidentally fall through one again.

You’d caught wind of a local P.I who took on cases that were too odd to be real. Most people thought she was a shark, taking hapless fools for whatever money they threw at her for their unsolvable cases. Some people even thought the cases were made up. When you heard of the disappearances of young women your interest sparked. How many of them had fallen to a similar fate as you? You spend weeks trying to find the P.I’s office, less than impressed to find it right at the border of the demon territory. You had been avoiding them almost as much as you’d been avoiding downtown. You were never going to set foot there if you had any say in the matter.

The fact that the door was unlocked should have been your first warning sign but at the time you figured if a human was investigating the supernatural then standard human locks weren’t going to be high on her list of things that would keep her safe from danger. Sophrosyne - Private Detective. No case is too strange or deranged. You chuckled as you passed the bold lettering on her door.

The office was empty, which wasn’t necessarily odd. She might have been out on a case. You wandered about, trying to find a business card to at least get a phone number so that the trip wasn’t an entire waste of your time. You just wanted to help shed some light on the missing girls. If they were taken by the fae then you might be able to provide valuable information that could help get them back. You were proof that people could return from the fae lands and you refused to believe that you would be the last.

When you couldn’t find a business card you amended your search, trying instead to locate scrap paper and a pen. You’d leave an email address, a phone number was too traceable and you didn’t want to leave the hotel’s number in case any fae were sniffing around for you.

You were so absorbed in your search that you didn’t notice the blonde man enter the office. He leant in the doorway, watching you for a few moments before deciding to make his presence known. “What are you doing here?”

You jumped, almost hitting your head on an overhead cupboard. You turned and watched him carefully. He wasn’t human, no, there was something other about him. Power seemed to ripple off him, a kind you hadn’t felt before but had been warned about. The flash of black in his eyes confirmed what he was to you. “Demon!” You exclaimed.

“I have a name for fucks sake.” He growled before straightening up and plastering a fake smile on his face. “If you’re here you’re looking for a P.I. What seems to be your trouble, I’m sure I could be of assistance. For a price.” His tone dripped with honey, meant to draw you into his web of deceit before tricking you out of your soul. Siwon’s charm had little effect here but it did pulse as a way of warning you against the danger you were stepping into.

“Please, drop the act. I am not in the mood. If the P.I isn’t here then I have no business with you.” You turned to leave, not willing to engage with the demon further. You only hoped that he was a standard demon, if he was one of the Seven then you might not leave here unmarred.

He stalked towards you, each step smooth and calculated. Like a lion stalking its prey. “Well aren’t you just no fun. Honey, no one makes the trip out to Syn’s office just because they want a chat. Only the desperate come here. Why not reconsider my offer to assist?”

“Sometimes the wicked will say things just to confuse you.” You deadpanned.

“At least you’re not as dumb as you look.” He sighed. “If you’re looking for Syn, she’s not in right now. She’s busy being a martyr, or a fucking idiot, who knows. In the meantime I’m here.”

“And what do I call you?” You asked hesitantly.

“Avarice.” He grinned, setting all of your nerves on edge.

 A/N: Thank you for reading, comments are always appreciated! They keep me going, I’d love to hear from you.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 33)

Back Down To Earth

Arthur and reader return to camp after their wonderful night together, and quickly remember that the rest of their lives aren’t so peachy. Some tension and conflict in this one. Hope you enjoy!

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

Waking up without a tender ache in my hip was a very nice change, the soft bed giving me an appreciated restful night. Arthur was still sleeping when I opened my eyes to him; laying on his front, his head resting on his folded arms. I sat up and stretched, feeling oddly vulnerable in the light of day sat atop the bed completely nude. Of course, Arthur was just as naked as I was and I struggled to resist letting my eyes wander down his spine; all of those masculine ridges of muscle at his shoulders, the dips in his lower back above his backside, his backside, looking soft and round and cute. I very nearly pinched myself, wondering how on earth I'd been lucky enough to end up with such an attractive man.

I turned onto my side, tucked a piece of his caramel coloured hair behind his ear; it'd gotten real long, stopping just above his shoulders, parted at the side and swept over, looking like some sort of prince. Goodness he was handsome. How was he so handsome?

I retracted my hand and moved away from him, stopping myself from gushing over him any more. Poor man deserved his undisturbed sleep. I decided I'd get up and have myself a bath, it'd been so long since I'd had a hot bath and I stayed in there for as long as I could. Even so, Arthur was still sleeping when I got back to the room to collect my things before heading out, just like I said I would the previous evening. I left him to sleep, figuring he deserved a lie in, and left him a note to remind him where I'd gone off to.

So I took a short trip into Saint Denis. I was curious about how the place had changed and had planned on having a wander around before carrying out my main objective, but stepping outside and walking up two streets had been more than enough exploring for my evolved tastes. I remembered when I was a youngster, trips to the city were exciting to me; the busy, modern, fast-paced atmosphere was something I didn't experience in any other place. I grew up in the swamp, in a small house with no neighbours for a good twenty minute walk in all directions, it was always so quiet and uneventful and as a child, boring. 

Growing into adulthood and losing my family, spending time alone wandering from place to place and mostly avoiding civilisation for the sake of my hunting success, had certainly changed the way I viewed the city. Just that short time outdoors during the day, with so many people passing by, acknowledging me only to size me up… well, I felt incredibly anxious. 

So, I headed straight for the place I wanted to visit, pleased that it still existed, and made a purchase I had not made in years. 

Letting myself back into the hotel room was a pleasant relief. By the time I had done what I needed to do, Arthur had woken up and appeared to have taken a bath himself; he was sat on the bed with a towel wrapped around his waist, a second in his hands scrubbing at his hair. 

"Morning," I greeted him, watching as he pulled the towel free from his head to look at me, his hair was sticking up all over the place and I couldn't help but smile at the sight of it. 

"You're back," he seemed pleased, "done what you needed to do?"

"I have," I grinned at him, coming to sit next to him on the bed with a cardboard box on my lap. "I trust you slept well, you were out like a log when I left."

"I sure did. Haven't slept so well in years," he smiled, standing up to gather his clothes. He tossed them on the bed when he turned back to me, dropping the towel around his waist unceremoniously. 

I felt myself flush and averted my eyes only after getting a good – though accidental – look at his naked body. I heard Arthur chuckle. 

"Sorry, sweetheart, I thought you wouldn't mind," he said, his voice a little teasing. 

"I certainly don't mind," I said, feeling warmth bloom in my belly, "but warn a lady next time, won't you?"

"I surely will, never meant to catch you by surprise, ma'am," he said, picking up his union suit and stepping into it. 

I allowed myself to look at him, my eyes immediately going to what was between his legs purely by accident, or perhaps it was curiosity, or human nature… whatever it was, Arthur didn't miss it and when I met his eyes he appeared amused, though with a healthy splash of colour in his cheeks. 

"You're a fine man, Arthur Morgan. You can't go 'round flaunting it all so suddenly, you'll make my head spin," I giggled, watching as he buttoned up the suit and covered himself up.

Arthur didn't seem to know how to respond to that, looking surprised. 

"You don't realise just how fine you are, do you?" I queried, tilting my head at him. He breathed a bashful laugh and pulled on his jeans and his shirt, tucking it in and pulling his suspenders up over his shoulders. "You always laugh like that when I compliment you," I noted.

"Do I? I guess I just ain't used to hearing that sort of thing from a lady such as yourself," he murmured, coming to sit back down on the bed next to me. "I don't know where it comes from, truth be told."

"Comes from looking at you," I twisted and wrapped my arms around his neck, scooting closer. "I'm a lucky girl, getting to be this close to a man like you. I reckon my mama'd say I've done mighty well for myself."

"You think so?" He snorted, not seeming to believe me but putting his hands on my waist anyway. I brought one hand to cup his cheek, my thumb drawing down and across the bottom of his mouth, tracing under his lips. 

I leaned in and pecked his lips, they were so soft and plush under mine I could've done it again right away, but I held back. Instead I kissed his cheek, then his jaw, slowly, tenderly.

"It's no secret I always thought you were easy on the eyes," I whispered to him. 

"It's no secret I've always been confused about it," he said and the corner of his mouth lifted; I kissed it. "After all, look at you."

I pulled back minutely.

"You're an incredibly beautiful woman, I don't even have the words for it," he said to me, his voice all low and silky in my ears. I pulled back a little more to look into his eyes. 

"Goodness, Arthur," I breathed a quiet laugh, "you're making me blush."

"Was that too silly? Sometimes I worry things'll sound silly coming from me."

"No!" I grinned, kissing him again then pulling him in tight for a close hug. "God, last night was perfect. Everything is perfect with you. You make me a very happy girl."

"Well, if I can make you happy, that matters a whole lot to me."

I gave him a final quick peck on the lips, then pulled away and presented the cardboard box I had in my lap to him. 

"For you. Or, us," I shrugged.

Arthur looked down at the box with interest, it was a plain white thing, not very big, and when he lifted the lid, he chuckled. 

"A little treat. I went to the confectioner's. Pa used to take me and my brother there every time we visited the city and he'd treat us to a cake. We'd share one between the three of us, but I figured I'd buy us one each today, since I'm in such a good mood," I smirked at him. 

Inside the box there were a pair of individual little sponge cakes, layered with strawberry preserve and thick servings of cream, lots of powdered sugar and a pretty spiral of sliced strawberries on top. The things were a few inches tall, the cake to filling ratio being at least fifty-fifty. It was the same cake I had as a kid, and I remembered carving a small spot in heaven every time I sat down to eat my helping. I would close my eyes and take the tiniest of bites, making it last, savouring, licking my fingers and plucking the crumbs off my skirt to eat them as to not let a single piece go to waste. Though, I hadn't eaten anything like it in years. 

"This is… you know, about all I've eaten for as long as I can remember is meat and canned vegetables, and whatever Pearson puts in his stew. Sweet stuff like this just doesn't come my way. Angel, this is one hell of a treat," his smile was wide, and it was such a pure, untroubled smile that it touched my heart.

"Well then, eat up. Nothing like cake for breakfast, huh?" 

Arthur and I moved on the bed, scooting back and turning to sit facing each other, cross-legged, with the box between us. We each took a cake and wasted no time in tucking in, both of us letting out appreciative hums at the first bite. The cake was so fluffy and moist, sweet and decadent and every bit as delicious as I remembered from my childhood. Cream squeezed out and coated my tongue and Arthur caught some of his own in his palm before it dropped down the front of his shirt. They were messy to eat but I'd argue it only added to the experience. 

"Christ, that's good," Arthur groaned with his mouth full, then licked away the cream on his hand. I giggled, nodding in agreement.

The sound of chewing filled the space between us, along with the odd noise from the street outside; horses hoof beats, chatter, the bump of wagon wheels over cobblestones. Arthur and I were quiet, though. Nothing like tasty food to shut people up.

About half way through the cake I quickly began to wonder if it was such a good idea to eat a whole one to myself, it was becoming very sickly. That didn't mean I stopped eating, though, it was far too good and the treat was far too rare for me to want to let any of it go to waste. So I pushed through and stuffed my face, licking up the cream that had escaped onto my fingers and my lips. I had to admit to feeling a little sick after the whole thing, but it was worth it, I'd say. 

"What're we doing today, going back?" I asked and Arthur turned his nose up a little before composing himself. 

"Do you want to?"

"Do you?" I countered and Arthur let out a small sigh.

"No, I don't reckon I do," he said quietly. 

"Well, I'd be happy to stay away for as long as you want, but…" I began, looking down, "ain't you worried what folks will think if we stay away too long?"

"Not really, wouldn't be the first time I've spent a few days away from camp without announcing it to everyone."

"Yeah but, it ain't just you this time."

Arthur was quiet for a few moments. "You worried about what people'll think we're up to?"

"No, though I assume they'd think we're doing exactly what we did last night, whether it was the case or not. I'm more worried about Dutch thinking I'm–" I stopped, second guessing whether it was a good idea to speak my mind on the matter.

"Dutch? What you worrying about Dutch for?" He frowned lightly, concerned. I kept my eyes focused on an embroidered tulip on the bed sheet as I thought.

"Maybe it don't matter."

"No, it does. Has he said something to you?" His hand reached out to cup mine.

"Jus' something I overheard when you was with the O'Driscolls. I don't know what he meant, really," I shrugged. 

"Talk to me."

"Well, when they came back without you, and Micah said he didn't know where you were, I panicked. I was askin' Dutch what he was gonna do, and he weren't being all that helpful with his answers– he was pissed off, understandably so. I reckon he was worried about you, but he was talking about not doing what Colm expected–" I shook my head and stole a look up at Arthur, his eyes were dead set on me but unreadable. 

"Anyway, he wanted rid of me, and Hosea, bless him, took me away and calmed me down. But as I left, Micah told Dutch I had a crush on you," a small laugh escaped me at that, "and Dutch goes; that's all we need, or something like that. He didn't sound happy about it."

Arthur stayed quiet for a moment longer and I felt compelled to carry on.

"Then he kinda brushed me off when you got back, I don't reckon he knows about us. At least not the full extent. And I guess I've just been worried that he and some of the others might think I'm distracting you or taking you away from the gang," I admitted.

I met Arthur's eyes, both of us remaining quiet for a few seconds before Arthur seemed to snap out of a stupor and he cleared his throat.

"Well, you ain't distracting me, not from what needs doing. I've been doin' all I'm supposed to, so nobody can moan at me for that," he muttered.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to piss you off," I began, sensing a tension in him that I didn't like.

"No, you haven't. You did the right thing, telling me what you're worried about. I assure you, though, you ain't taking me away from nothing. And if anyone gives you trouble, you let me know," he said, his voice deep and intense, sending goosebumps rising on my arms.

"I will," I nodded. 

"And I ain't going back now to keep them lot happy, they can live without me for one night and one day. We can have today and go back this evening, if you want."

"I'd like that," I smiled at him.

"The gang," he started, pressing his lips together in thought before continuing, "they're like my family. But lately, certain things have reminded me that while that may be true, they ain't all that matters."

"Yeah?"

"Listen, I can see Dutch has doubted you from day one. At first I could understand; you were new, everyone's cautious around the new person. But the thing is, you've been here long enough now, shown enough loyalty, done enough for us, for him to start treating you like one of us. God knows he was pattin' Micah on the head sooner than this," he spoke monotonously, a little harshly. He was definitely pissed off.

"I don't mind. Truth be told I don't care all that much for the man," I exhaled in a hollow laugh, unable to let go of his inaction when Arthur was in trouble, his reasons be damned.

"Yeah well, I care for you a whole lot," he said firmly, "and if Dutch, the man I'm supposed to blindly follow, makes you feel like you ain't on the same level as the rest of us, then I do mind."

I stared at him, eyes wide. Arthur cupped my cheek and pulled me in for a harsh, fiery kiss.

"I tell you one thing, I ain't keeping this a secret from nobody no more. You're important to me, and Dutch and everyone else is gonna know about it," he murmured against my mouth before kissing me again, barely giving me a moment to catch my breath, pushing me down onto the bed and blanketing my body with his. My head spun and I opened up for him, letting him smother me in his need and affection. 

We made love again, not emerging from our room until hours later, both of us finding it incredibly difficult to pull ourselves away from one another. I was completely, undeniably infatuated with him.

-

We rode back to camp after sundown, Sadie was on guard duty and she smirked at us when we arrived, though didn't say anything other than a polite greeting. We dismounted from Jet and I took the chance to give Rayna some love before Arthur and I walked into the main camp. It looked like people were finishing up with dinner as Susan was washing some dishes and everyone else was lazing about the place, the atmosphere felt flat in comparison to the previous night when everyone had been partying. It seemed the novelty of the house also wore off pretty quick considering most people were sitting outside.

Arthur and I helped ourselves to the last of Pearson's stew and took seats at the table. Susan had her eyes on us from the moment we arrived and it wasn't long before she said something. 

"You pair can wash your own dishes, considering you both got out of helping with the clean up," she said snarkily. 

"What clean up?" Arthur asked.

"From the party, of course," she chuckled. She didn't seem all that annoyed, thankfully. 

"Oh, well neither of us made the mess, in all fairness," Arthur said.

"Oh, so you snuck out last night, not this morning?"

I wasn't going to say anything, but Arthur did.

"Yeah," he said, "though I wouldn't call it sneaking out. Charles knew where we was going."

"And where was that?" Susan asked.

"Saint Denis," Dutch strolled over from his spot by the fire, eyes focused on Arthur, "don't worry, son, Charles told me where you were just as soon as I started worrying you'd wandered off with the O'Driscolls again."

"You were worried about that?" Arthur asked, voice rising in pitch. "Come on, Dutch, I leave camp all the time."

"Truth be told I don't know what riled me more, thinking you'd been taken by those bastards again, or knowing you'd waltzed right back into Saint Denis not ten minutes after being searched for by the law," Dutch's overly pleasant tone made me nauseous.

"John and I got away without being seen, they didn't know it was us. 'Sides, we went nowhere near that cemetery, didn't even stay on the streets long," Arthur muttered. I cocked a brow; cemetery?

"So where did you go, son?"

"Ain't that obvious?" Arthur said. I felt Dutch look at me, and kept on eating my stew to distract myself from my growing anxiety. "You're thinkin' it, don't make me say it."

Dutch hummed to himself, his eyes still on me. "Just, think with your brain, Arthur. We don't need any complications," he said, patting his shoulder once before sauntering off.

I met Arthur's eyes and his were apologetic. I didn't say anything for quite some time and after a stretch of silence, Arthur dropped his fork and stood up. 

"I'm gonna explain to him–" he began, but I grabbed his wrist. 

"Explain what?" I hissed. 

Arthur looked at me in surprise. "That it was my suggestion to go to Saint Denis and it ain't nobody's business if we were there or not, anyway."

"Oh, just leave it. He's dropped it, be thankful," I shrugged. 

"He's got no reason to be mad about it, if I wanna go to Saint Denis I'll go to Saint Denis," his voice raised, both in pitch and volume, the way it did when he was irritated, I was quickly understanding. "Never cared all that much before when I disappeared, so I understand."

Oh. 

I stared at him for a moment, thinking back to the O'Driscolls. I never stopped to think whether Arthur actually felt anything about the way Dutch handled that; I knew that it pissed me off to no end but Arthur had always been so understanding and accepting of these things when it came to Dutch. Though, I hadn't exactly helped the situation by relaying what had happened that night to him.

"Arthur, it might just be in our best interests to let it go," I said quietly, sensing stares from around the campfire. One glance there had me catching Charles' eyes. "Eat your dinner, you ain't had a proper meal today."

Arthur's eyes dropped to his food and after a moment, he slumped back down in his chair heavily. We finished our food in silence and when I went to gather our plates to wash them, Arthur got up and told me he was going to get an early night. It broke my heart, watching him walk away towards the house without me, left on such a sullen note. I had no idea where things had gone wrong, I wished that Dutch had left us alone, that Arthur hadn't taken what he'd said to heart. 

We'd had such a beautiful time together away from camp. Why did it have to come crashing down as soon as we returned? 

Charles silently sidled up to me when I was washing the dishes to help me dry them. He didn't say anything at first, but eventually, he spoke in a low, even tone that was difficult for even me to hear, let alone anyone else around us. 

"I can't help but feel responsible for that," he told me, "I'm sorry. I felt I had to tell Dutch when he started looking for Arthur this morning."

"God, Charles, no. Don't feel responsible, you ain't. Whole reason we told you was so people wouldn't get worried if they realised we were gone. It's okay," I reassured him, "if anything, I'm sorry. We put that on your shoulders. Of course, didn't really anticipate this turning into a drama."

"Me neither."

"Don't worry about it. I think I said something above my station today, soured Arthur's mood a bit."

"You two have an argument?"

"No, we didn't argue," far from it, I thought. "I don't think Dutch likes me very much."

"Why not?"

"Well, I'm stopping Arthur from being capable of using his brain, apparently," I snorted.

"Arthur isn't dumb."

"I know he ain't. Doesn't stop Dutch from treating him like he is, you saw what happened just then. Worst part is, I can't tell who Arthur's mad at; him or me," I turned to Charles, wiping my hands on my skirt and leaning my hip against the table.

"Only one way to find out," he shrugged, gesturing with his head towards the house. 

-

I entered Arthur's room, poking my head around the corner first to see if he was asleep. The lantern was still lit and he was sat up on his bed, writing in his journal. He looked at me and waved me in, and I crossed the room and sat down on a storage crate. 

"Sorry for leaving you like that," he spoke first, surprisingly, "needed to get my thoughts in order."

"That's alright," I nodded. Arthur sighed loudly and snapped his journal shut, putting it away in his satchel before looking at me head on. 

"I didn't mean what I said about Dutch not caring about me going missing. That was dumb of me, I know full well him coming after me would've been a bad idea. Heat of the moment, and all," he shrugged his shoulders. "I ain't more important than the rest of those folks out there."

"Well, if it's any consolation you only said how I've been feeling about it. Maybe I'm just selfish because of my feelings for you, but I weren't happy with Dutch over that," I admitted quietly, squeezing my hands together in my lap.

"Don't let it bother you, he did the right thing."

I shrugged, neither agreeing or disagreeing.

"He ain't been making all the right decisions lately, but that one needn't come into it. All that shit with the Braithwaites and the Grays, though…" he shook his head and laughed drily. "What a mess. None o' that felt right to me from the start."

"I know," I nodded.

"And now look at us, camping right outside of Saint Denis, closest we've ever been to civilisation. I don't know why we aren't heading west already, taking our chances getting by Blackwater, only so we can get back to more open lands, regain a little freedom. But what do I know? That's probably a bad idea, too."

"This life is relatively new to me, I've never had to run from the law. I couldn't tell you what that idea was, good nor bad. You having freedom, though, is all I want," I sighed, staring sadly at him. I hated seeing him this way; so sullen and conflicted.

"It seems like we're just getting involved with more and more bullshit. You know, Dutch wants us to go to a party at the mayor's house. We've moved up from working with sheriffs to schmoozing with high society, when we're wanted all over the damn place. It's like he's forgotten how to do subtlety," he narrowed his eyes, shaking his head incredulously. He was speaking very quietly, now.

My brows raised and I tried to imagine Arthur and Dutch rubbing shoulders with the likes of Saint Denis' mayor. "I see why that puzzles you," I laughed humorlessly. 

"I know that we need money. I know that we need to look for leads. I know that I should trust Dutch 'cause he knows what he's doing. But… I just don't like this shit. But I ain't got the ideas myself to counter with, so what's the point?" Arthur sighed heavily, gnawed on his lip for a moment and I waited for him to continue, it looked like there was more to come and I wanted him to get it off his chest.

"I've always just followed Dutch. Been with him since I was a boy, everything I know he's taught me. In a way he made things easy for me, I always knew what to do cause he always told me what to do, I never questioned it. But now I find myself questioning and I– what do I do?" He looked up at me, and my heart thudded at being put on the spot.

"You've never had to think for yourself before?" I wondered, hastily adding, "no offense."

"None taken. You hit the nail on the head," he shook his head.

"Well, what changed?"

"I don't know. Things feel different, with the gang I mean, we've gotten sloppy. Maybe Dutch is just feeling the heat, or maybe it's Micah; things were fine till he joined. I don't know. I just don't know. Running off to Saint Denis with you was the clearest my head has felt in weeks, I thought I was just permanently messed up by my run in with the O'Driscolls, but no. Turns out it's being here, I don't know what to think no more."

"You ain't upset with me, then?"

"You? Why would I be? All you've done lately is make me happy," he swung his legs off the edge of the bed and leaned towards me, taking my hand in both of his.

"I don't want to drive a wedge between you and Dutch."

"You ain't," he shook his head.

"I've never had much, but these last couple of months I've spent with you, they… it's like nothing I've ever known before. Happiness comes easy when I'm with you," I mumbled, feeling embarrassed by the words leaving my mouth, but wanting to be honest with him. "I just wish that things were simpler."

"Me too, princess. All I can hope for is one day being able to give you somethin' better than this. And maybe it's a little selfish too, Lord knows I'm happiest when I'm with you," he admitted, and it touched me.

"Don't you worry about Dutch. And don't feel responsible for the way he acts, things ain't been going too well for a while now. You know about Blackwater, Hosea; he tried to warn Dutch that it weren't a good idea to do that job, but he never listened. Listened to Micah instead," he grumbled out the last few words, "I guess I'm just in a weird place right now, I need– I don't know what I need."

"Arthur, you know I want to support you no matter what. I care about this gang, and I'll do all I can to help these folk and I'll always pull my weight. But my loyalty lies mostly with one person, and it ain't Dutch. Just know that," I gave him a direct look. Arthur nodded his head slowly.

"I guess I'll… let's see what this party is all about at the mayor's place, see what Dutch pulls outta his sleeve. I'll tell you one thing, though; I am not looking forward to it," he huffed, shaking his head then pulling his hands away to run them through his hair. "I won't lie, my stomach twists itself in knots just thinking about it."

"What if I asked Dutch if I could come, too?" I suggested on a whim, and Arthur looked up at me in surprise, "it's to look for leads, right? All those rich people there. Dutch knows acting is my forte, I could fit right in at a fancy soiree."

"You'd fit in a damn sight better than me," he laughed. 

"I'll ask. Worst he can say is no, but maybe he'll see it as me making myself useful and like me a little more," I smirked, "that's if me being there'd give you a little moral support, and you fellers don't plan on shooting the place up. 'Cause then, no promises I'll be any use at all."

"Somehow I don't think we have to worry about that," he smiled, then moved to lay back down on his bed, "but I reckon having you there might be nice."

"Yeah? Alright then," I rose to my feet.

"Get Hosea on your side, first. He's the voice of reason, when Dutch'll listen," he advised. 

"Will do. I'll leave you to get some sleep," I approached him and bent down to kiss him. Our lips lingered for a few moments, dancing together and leaving us breathless when we finally parted. "Goodnight," I whispered.

"Goodnight, my darlin'."

[barchiefanfiction]

Under the Full Moon

by keiraknighted

Prompt: Red Riding Hood/Werewolf AU for Barchie Halloween

AO3 // ff.net

In the town that Betty lives in, there are three rules that everyone is taught from the day they are born.

Always carry a weapon

Never go out at night

Do not go in the woods at night without a weapon

The woods are perfectly safe during the day. Men go hunting, women pick wild berries and flowers, children play in the trees. But come dusk, everyone knows the woods are a dangerous place. The trees whisper, and twist and turn. Up becomes down, east becomes west. Wild animals stalk through the night, looking for prey. It’s even said that on the full moon, werewolves roam the forest, turning victims into pack members. Of course, Betty knows that werewolves aren’t real. It’s just a myth to scare little children.

Betty’s mother, Alice, packs cookies and a loaf of bread into a basket, and firmly closes the lid.

“Now, Elizabeth,” Alice says, handing her daughter the basket. “You should have plenty of time to make it to your cousin’s house before dark. Do not get distracted, and make sure you’re well out of the woods come nightfall. Especially since it’s a full moon tonight. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mother,” Betty rolls her eyes. She’s not an idiot. Everyone in town knows the rules.

“You have your knife?”

Betty nods. There’s a dagger strapped to her thigh should the worst occur. Alice regards her daughter fondly. She reaches over and tightens the blonde ponytail before pulling the red hood of Betty’s cloak over her head.

“Be safe,” Alice says, before shepherding Betty out the front door of their cottage.

Betty skips towards the forest, glad to be out from under the watch of her overprotective mother for a few days. Her cousin Cheryl can be a little dramatic and bossy, but it’s a small price to pay for a few hours of freedom in the woods.

She ignores her mother’s advice about not getting distracted. She has hours before nightfall. She plans to take her time, pick some flowers, maybe sit in the forest and eat some cookies while she reads her book for a little while. She knows where there is a pretty clearing by the creek, not too far from the path, and she makes her way there, meandering slowly, enjoying the fresh air and the greenery around her.

She finds the clearing easily, and she settles herself down by the creek, amongst a patch of forget-me-nots. She removes her cloak and lays it down to sit on, so as not to get her pretty white dress dirty. She pulls a cookie and her book out of the basket, and starts to read.

It’s so peaceful out here, the only sounds are of birds chirping, and the creek bubbling beside her. That is until she hears the crack of a stick, and she looks up, startled, scanning the trees around her for some sign of movement.

The woods are perfectly safe during the day, she reminds herself. Still, her heart beats rapidly, and she shuts her book, reaching for the dagger under her petticoat.

She hears more crunching, footsteps coming towards her. She brandishes her dagger just as someone bursts through the trees and into the clearing, pointing an arrow at her, the strong on the bow drawn tight. He quickly lowers it when he sees who it is.

“Betty,” Archie breathes. “I thought you were a deer.”

Betty breathes a sigh of relief at seeing Archie, her neighbour and friend. She lowers the dagger and Archie politely looks away while she tucks it back into the garter on her thigh.

“What are you doing out here?” Betty asks, and Archie turns back.

He raises an eyebrow. “I’m hunting,” he says. “What about you?”

“I’m on my way to my cousin’s house. I thought I’d enjoy the serenity a while.”

“It’s not safe out here alone, Betty,” Archie says nervously.

Betty tilts her head, then looks up at the sky. “Archie, it’s broad daylight. Everyone knows it’s safe until dark.”

“Then why did you have your knife out?” he points out. Betty bites her lip. She shrugs.

“Let me walk with you,” Archie suggests. “I’m going that way anyway.”

“Sure,” Betty agrees immediately. It’s not exactly a hardship to have Archie walking with her. She enjoys his company, and she also enjoys looking at him. He has a nice face, the kind that gives her butterflies.

Betty puts her book back in the basket, and Archie helps her up. Betty picks up her cloak and swings it over her shoulders, sending forget-me-nots flying. She’s perfectly capable of fastening the cloak herself, but Archie steps forward to help her, and she lets him. She likes having him so close to her.

“Red suits you,” he grins.

They make their way back to the path and head in the direction of Cheryl’s house. It only takes an hour to walk there, and it feels like less with Archie by her side. Their hands brush a few times as they walk along the narrow path, and she hopes he might take her hand in his, but he’s far too much of a gentleman for that. She’s sure she’s given him a million obvious hints that she likes him, but he’s never had any interest in her beyond friendship anyway.

Betty is actually disappointed when they reach the edge of the woods. But then again, the sun is hanging low in the sky now and it’s probably for the best. They don’t want to get lost in there at night.

Archie stops at the tree line as Betty steps out of the forest, and she turns back to face him.

“Aren’t you coming?” she says.

Archie shakes his head. “I still have some hunting to do.”

Betty looks to the horizon, squinting into the sun. “It’s getting late,” she says. “I don’t think you should go back in there. What if you don’t get out in time?”

Archie smiles fondly. “It’s sweet of you to worry about me. I’ll be fine, I promise. I know these woods like the back of my hand.”

Betty chews her lip. She doesn’t want to leave him. “Okay,” she concedes. “Thank you for walking with me.”

Archie nods. “It was nothing.”

Before she can think better of it, Betty leans up and presses a kiss to his cheek. She pulls away, her own cheeks burning. Archie ducks his head bashfully.

“Be safe, Betty,” he says, almost like a warning. And then he disappears back into the forest, leaving Betty to make her way to Cheryl’s on her own.

  Cheryl’s family is richer than Betty’s. They have servants and paintings on all the walls, and Cheryl always has a new gown to show off.

Betty arrives at the manor, three times the size of Betty’s own home, and is let inside by the doorman. Cheryl sweeps into the hall in a scarlet gown, giving Betty a red-lipped smile, and pulling her cousin into a tight hug.

“How delightful it is to see you again, cousin!” Cheryl says. Betty is never quite sure how genuine Cheryl is being, but she hugs her back and takes her words at face value. Cheryl pulls away. “We have so much to talk about!”

Cheryl takes Betty’s basket from her and hands it to a hovering servant. She looks Betty up and down.

“I see you’ve adopted my signature colour,” Cheryl notes. “It looks almost as good on you as it does on me.”

Betty doesn’t have a chance to respond before Cheryl is leading her upstairs to her bedroom. Betty sheds her cloak, and the girls lounge on Cheryl’s bed.

“I can trust you, can’t I Betty?” Cheryl asks.

“Of course,” Betty responds earnestly.

Cheryl turns to Betty, her eyes boring into her. “If I tell you something, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“Okay,” Betty agrees, feelings strangely nervous. She doesn’t like the way Cheryl is acting.

“I’m a witch.”

Betty stares at her cousin. “A witch?” she repeats dumbly.

Cheryl nods seriously. “I’m making a potion. An immortality potion.”

“Why would you want to be immortal?”

Cheryl gives Betty a look of disdain. “Why wouldn’t you want to be?” she huffs. Betty shrugs. “I only need one more ingredient.”

“And what’s that?”

“Mushrooms.”

“Well there are probably some in the kitchen,” Betty points out.

Cheryl gives a sound of exasperation. “They can’t just be any mushrooms. They have to be picked at midnight, under the full moon.”

“Cheryl…” Betty says, beginning to understand where Cheryl is going with this.

“They grow in the woods.”

“Don’t go out there tonight,” Betty says.

“I’m going,” Cheryl says, “And so are you.”

Betty shakes her head. “No.”

“It will be safer with two of us.”

“It won’t be safe at all.”

“There’s a patch not far from the path. We won’t have to be in there long.”

“I don’t know, Cheryl…”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Cheryl snorts. Betty says nothing. “I need my beauty rest,” Cheryl says, pushing Betty from the bed. “I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

Betty picks up her cloak and heads to her own room. Of course she isn’t going to follow Cheryl into the woods. It’s a suicide mission. Only the most reckless and idiotic person would go into the woods at night, especially on a full moon.

Betty changes from her dress into a nightgown that she keeps at Cheryl’s and lies down on the bed to sleep.

  She swears she’s only been asleep for a few minutes when Cheryl shakes her awake. She’s terrified at first, before she realises it’s Cheryl. She’s fully dressed, wearing a black cloak and holding a lantern above Betty’s face.

“It’s time to go.”

“Cheryl…” Betty starts, her voice still hoarse with sleep. She sits up as Cheryl begins to walk away.

Cheryl stops by the door, spinning back to Betty, her long red hair fanning out around her. “I’m going. If you stay and I die, know that’s on you.”

Betty swallows. She only hesitates a moment before slipping out of bed. She quickly dresses and she slips on her shoes and cloak, before following Cheryl downstairs and out the front door.

“What about your parents?” Betty whispers.

Cheryl shrugs. “They don’t care.”

It isn’t far from Cheryl’s house to the woods. The full moon lights their way, and they barely need Cheryl’s lantern. But they’ll need it once they’re in the forest. The canopy of leaves will block most of the moonlight from above.

They stop when they reach the tree line. Betty stares into the forest, her heart in her throat, her pulse racing. This is a bad idea. There is no way they go in there and make it out alive.

“Come on,” Cheryl says, but she doesn’t sound as confident as before. Still, she holds the lantern up high and steps into the forest. Betty takes a deep breath and follows.

It’s dark in the woods, and the lantern doesn’t provide a lot of light. It’s only enough to see a few feet in front of them. The path is winding, and tree roots and rocks provide obstacles for the girls to trip over. An owl hoots nearby. Wind rustles the leaves above them, getting stronger. A branch breaks and falls to the ground, causing the two of them to jump. A wolf howls somewhere in the distance.

“Are we close?” Betty asks. She wants to get out of here as soon as possible.

Cheryl nods. “Here.” She points to a small boulder she’s marked with red paint. “This way.” Cheryl leads Betty away from the path. The crunch through the underbrush until they wander into a clearing. Cheryl moves the lantern around until the light falls on a small patch of mushrooms. Cheryl hands the lantern to Betty and kneels in front of the mushrooms, gathering them and shoving them into the pockets of her cloak.

Another wolf howl, closer this time.

“Hurry,” Betty says. Cheryl grabs a couple more mushrooms and then stands.

“Let’s go,” she says. She sounds as nervous as Betty feels.

Betty shines the lantern around. Everything looks different in the dark. “Which way did we come in?” she whispers.

Cheryl hesitates. “This way, I think,” she says, starting to walk. Betty has no idea if that’s right, but she has no reason to counter it, so she follows.

They’re almost out of the clearing when Betty trips on something, falling to the ground. She drops the lantern but it stays lit, thankfully. She reaches for it, picking herself up. She shines the light on the ground, looking to see what she tripped on. A bow. She picks it up. Her stomach drops, her heart beating rapidly. Archie’s bow. She looks around further, and sure enough, there’s his quiver, still half full of arrows. Worse, there are ripped shreds of his clothes scattered around.

“What’s wrong?” Cheryl asks.

Betty swallows. “My friend, Archie…” she says. “I think something might have happened to him. This is his.”

Cheryl stares at her a moment. “We have to go.” She grabs the bow, and picks up the quiver of arrows.

Betty nods. She tries not to dwell on Archie. Perhaps he’s fine. Maybe he dropped these and didn’t realise. Of course, Betty knows that’s nonsense. Grief wells up inside her, but she pushes it down. Now isn’t the time to cry.

“The path should be right here,” Cheryl says. Only it’s not.

“Cheryl…”

“Just, shh!” Cheryl puts her hand up in front of Betty’s face. “Let me think!”

A twig snaps behind them and Betty spins around. Goosebumps erupt all over her body. She swears there’s someone out there, watching them.

“Archie?” she calls, her voice shaking. No answer. “Cheryl,” she whispers. “There’s something out there.”

Cheryl nods, looking terrified. She can feel it too. “Betty—” she starts, but before she can finish, a great beast leaps out from behind a tree, knocking Cheryl to the ground. A wolf maybe, but much, much bigger. Cheryl lets out a shrill scream, the sound echoing through the forest. Betty stumbles back and trips on a tree root, falling onto her backside. This time the lantern shatters and the flame goes out.

“Cheryl!” Betty yells. She can hear the growling of the beast and Cheryl’s cries.

“Betty!” Cheryl screams, panicked. There’s another howl, close but not close enough to be the beast attacking Cheryl. Betty can hear the sound of the beast dragging Cheryl away. Betty tries to stand, but the moment she tries to put pressure on her right ankle it’s filled with a piercing pain. She gasps.

“Cheryl!” Betty calls again. Cheryl’s screams are getting further away. Betty tries to see something, anything, but she can barely see a foot in front of her face it’s so dark.

This night goes silent around her. The only thing she can hear is her own heavy breathing. Cheryl has stopped screaming. Betty doesn’t know if that’s because she can’t scream anymore, or if she’s just realised it’s not doing her any good.

Betty realises it’s not only her own breathing she can hear. She looks around, following the sound, and sees a pair of bright yellow eyes staring at her. She swallows. The beast growls, getting ready to pounce. Betty reaches under her petticoat, only to find her dagger isn’t there. She’d taken it out when she went to bed and never put it back. There’s nothing else she can do. She squeezes her eyes shut, ready to accept her fate.

She hears another growl, from behind her, and she opens her eyes to see another enormous wolf fly over top of her and land on top of the beast that had been about to attack her. She can’t see very well, but she can hear them snarling and growling, fighting each other. Is one of them trying to protect her, or does it just want her for a meal too?

She hears a whimper, and then one of the wolves scampers off into the night. She doesn’t know which one won. The winner pads over too her, panting. She looks into its glowing amber eyes. The beast is a beautiful thing, not scrawny like the usual wolves she sees. Big, with deep red fur that Betty wants to run her hands through. She wonders, briefly, if it might be a werewolf. She quickly reminds herself werewolves aren’t real.

Her heart pounds. She’s still scared, but the wolf doesn’t make any moves to harm her. It nudges her with its snout, as if trying to get her to stand up.

“I can’t stand,” she tells it, though she has no idea if it can understand her. “I hurt my ankle.”

The wolf whines a little, almost sympathetically. She has no idea why, but this wolf makes her feel safe somehow. Perhaps because it’s already protected her once.

The wolf looks around, its ears pricked. It looks back to her. It tilts its head, like its asking permission for something, but what, Betty doesn’t know. She soon finds out as the wolf takes her cloak in its mouth, and begins to drag her away. The terror she felt before returns.

“Where are you taking me?” she cries, though she knows the wolf can’t answer. She tries to struggle, but it’s no use. But she begins to realise the wolf means her no harm. He’s very gentle with her, and he stops when her hair gets caught in a fallen branch and lets her untangle it before continuing on.

He finally stops when they reach a small cottage. Betty has no idea where they are, except that they’re somewhere in the woods. She has no hope of finding Cheryl, or of finding her way out of here.

The wolf nudges the door open and drags Betty inside. There are a few candles burning, lighting up the one room cottage. There is a bed on one side, and a fireplace on the other, and a chest by the bed. But other than that, the room is mostly empty. The wolf seems to take up a lot of space with its hulking size. He nudges her towards the bed, and Betty crawls onto it, doing her best to not put any weight on her sore ankle. She’s fairly certain she just twisted it, and it will probably be fine in a day or so.

The wolf gives her an approving nod, then goes to sit by the door, at full attention, like he’s guarding it. Betty smiles in spite of herself.

“Thank you,” she says. The wolf turns back to her, tilting its head in confusion. “For saving me,” Betty clarifies. The wolf inclines his head again. Betty licks her lips. “My cousin, Cheryl…” she starts. Then she realises there’s no point. The wolf can’t answer her. And if the wolf leaves to find Cheryl, Betty will be left alone and vulnerable.

“Never mind,” she says, shaking her head. “You don’t have to sit there all night,” she tells the wolf. “You can come and sleep next to me.”

The wolf turns back to the door. Betty is disappointed. It would be nice to have a big fluffy wolf to keep her warm. Betty lays her head on the poor excuse for a pillow. It’s not the most comfortable bed, but it will have to do. She unfastens her cloak and puts it over herself like a blanket, then blows out the candle beside the bed.

She hears the wolf leave his spot by the door and pad over to the bed. Maybe he changed his mind. Betty scoots over to give him room and he gets up onto the bed, lying next to her. It’s comforting to have something so big and warm curled up next to her.

“Goodnight,” she whispers, burying her face into the wolf’s soft fur. Somehow, sleep finds her easily.

  Betty wakes at dawn, feeling sore all over. There’s a warm weight next to her, but she quickly realises it’s not the fur of the wolf she fell asleep next to last night. It’s skin. A man. She sits bolt upright, her heart racing. Her eyes fall on the naked body beside her, lying face down and still fast asleep. It’s Archie. Betty breathes a sigh of relief, both because it means he’s not dead, and because she’s not sleeping next to a stranger. The sight of his naked body does nothing the slow her heartrate, however.

She bites her lip. She probably shouldn’t be looking. But then again, what is he doing here, naked, in the first place?

“Archie,” she says, gently shaking his arm. He wakes slowly, blinking at her. Then he jolts out of bed, panicked.

“Betty!” he says. Betty’s eyes rake over his muscular arms, his chest his abs, down between his legs. She’d known he was good looking, but she had no idea he looked like this under his clothes. He quickly covers himself with his hands. She meets his eyes again. His face is bright red.

“What are you doing here?” Betty asks. “I thought you were dead!”

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I meant to leave before you woke up but—” he swallows. He goes to the chest by the bed and opens it, fishing out a pair of brown pants and pulling them on.

“Leave? But…” Betty trails off, the cogs in her mind turning. The wolf that fell asleep beside her last night. A wolf with fur that was suspiciously close to the colour or Archie’s hair. Archie’s clothes in the forest, then him waking naked beside her. The wolf protecting her from the other wolves. The fact that this is obviously his cottage, with his clothes, ready for him, despite the fact that he has a home back in their own village. “Are you…?” she starts. She stares at him. “A werewolf?”

Archie nods shortly. He won’t look her directly in the eye. “I understand if you want nothing to do with me now.”

“Arch,” she says gently. “How could you think that?” She shakes her head. She gets up from the bed, putting only a small amount of weight on her ankle. It’s already feeling better. Her white dress is covered in dirt and torn at the bottom, but she’s not really concerned about that. She puts her hands on Archie’s bare shoulders, and he reluctantly looks her in the eye.

“You saved my life,” she reminds him. “I could never think less of you for that.”

Archie still seems unsure, but he gives her a small smile. It’s so sweet and he’s so genuine that she can’t stop herself from surging up to kiss him. He responds immediately, his lips moving against hers, but then it’s as if he suddenly remembers himself and pulls away abruptly.

“Betty,” he says, swallowing. “I know you thought maybe you and I would… be together,” he pauses. “And I always wanted to court you properly. But this is why I never could. You could never be with a werewolf.”

“I don’t care about that,” she assures him. “You’re clearly not an evil werewolf or you wouldn’t have saved me. Not like those other werewolves.”

Archie shakes his head, like he doesn’t believe her. “What about your mother?”

Betty grins. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Archie laughs. “Okay,” he says. “If you’re sure.”

“Kiss me, Archie.”

He smiles, brushing her hair from her face with both his hands. Betty’s stomach fills with butterflies as he leans in, and her eyes close just before his lips touch hers. His hands find her waist and he tugs her close against his bare chest, leaving Betty feeling giddy.

The door slams open and the two jump apart, turning towards the open door. Cheryl stands there, bow and arrow poised to shoot.

“Step away from her,” Cheryl says, pointing the arrow at Archie.

“Cheryl!” Betty cries. “Oh my god, you’re okay!”

“Don’t worry, Betty, this ruffian won’t hurt you anymore.”

“Cheryl, it’s okay!” Betty hurries to assure her. “This is my friend, Archie. He saved my life last night.”

Cheryl eyes him sceptically but lowers the arrow. She turns to Betty. “Are you okay?” she asks. Betty nods. “Thank god. I never should have suggested we go into the woods at night.”

“It’s okay,” Betty says. “Are you alright? How did you get away from the wolves?”

“I’m okay,” Cheryl confirms. “The wolf only had hold of my cloak so I took it off and then I shot it with my bow and arrow. I managed to find my way out of the forest, but I came looking for you as soon as it was light.”

“I think that’s actually my bow and arrow,” Archie says.

Cheryl purses her lips. “Finders keepers,” she tells him. “And why don’t you have a shirt on?”

Archie’s face turns bright red and he goes back to the trunk for a shirt, much to Betty’s disappointment.

“You didn’t get bitten, did you?” Archie asks Cheryl.

Cheryl shakes her head. “No. Why?”

“Just… checking you’re alright.”

“I already said I was!” Cheryl huffs. “Now let’s go and see if we can find my cloak. I still want those mushrooms.” She marches out of the hut, and Betty turns to Archie with an amused look on her face.

“Your cousin is very… assertive,” Archie grins.

“She would kill you if you ever hurt me,” Betty warns him, smirking.

“Well,” says Archie, pressing a kiss to Betty’s forehead. “I best not ever hurt you then.”

“Come on, you two!” Cheryl calls back.

Archie laughs, and the takes Betty’s hand in his, their fingers interlocking as the head back out into the forest, safe once again in the morning light.

[misssophiachase]

NikMik: so i watched Leap Year...& there were some major klaroline vibes. i know you're not taking prompts but i just wanted to throw that out there for your "Crossroads" series, should you feel inspired :P is it sad that i see klaroline in everything? lol.

Hey luv! So sorry for the delay, this kind of fusion takes some time : ) And yes, Klaroline vibes all round for sure. Hope you like it! And no, it’s not sad that you see Klaroline in everything, I do too! Words in italics from the movie so too the song/drabble title.

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Dingle, Ireland - February 27, 2020

“Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper I love…”

“You fried my iPhone!”  

Klaus Mikaelson was broken from his song mid lyric and given the look on her face, he was certain that it didn’t lend itself to the soundtrack of the current situation.

He stopped short of finishing the sentence registering her pursed lips, furrowed brow and the distracting fact her pyjama shorts were incredibly short showcasing a set of long, delectable creamy legs underneath that her jeans had annoyingly hid from him earlier in the day.  

“You fried the whole village, idiot!”

“Are you calling me the village idiot?” Her eyes narrowed in his direction. “Is that insult popular among the locals here?”

“Yes, because we are stuck in the Middle Ages and you are, in fact, the court jester in this scenario. Albeit without the silly hat, but I’m sure we can find you one or put you in the stocks and throw vegetables at you instead. Your choice, love.”

“I’m so glad I found myself stranded in this delightful town,” she mused. “But back to my broken cell and the fact you’re hanging out in this bar and singing to yourself at 2am.”

“It’s called closing up and this isn’t New York City, sweetheart, there’s only so much power available in Dingle.”

“Dingle?”

“Wow, even those legs aren’t enough to make me like you right now,” he growled, even if his eyes were betraying his attraction. “That’s the name of this delightful town you’ve come to love in the seven hours you’ve been here.”

“I knew that,” she lied. “But can we just get back to the fact I have no working phone and it’s kind of urgent given the reason for my impromptu visit.”

“Your impromptu visit? Something you’ve mentioned multiple times since we unfortunately crossed paths at the waterfront this afternoon.”

“I’m assuming with that charm you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Pretty sure I could say the same about you, Forbes,” he noticed her expression fall briefly before sending him a determined gaze.

“Not that it’s any of your business but I came here to propose to my boyfriend on the Leap Year like Irish tradition,” she insisted.

“Now, isn’t that romantic,” he joked. “So, if that’s the case, where is the lucky guy? I’d really like to congratulate him on being able to stand your whinging.”

Klaus wasn’t expecting to suddenly feel so weird given he’d known her seven hours and she’d managed to cause him a headache and the whole village a power outage. He decided to blame it on those legs and hopefully move on but after taking a seat at the bar Klaus knew she wasn’t going anywhere yet.

“Just shut up and give me a vodka, neat,” she growled. “It’s the least you could do after completely failing me in the amenities department.”

“I think it’s void when you are responsible for killing the power, princess,” he shot back. “And it’s no surprise you drink vodka.”

“Well, if it’s good enough for the Russians,” she bit back. 

“Exactly,” he muttered, producing a shot glass and pouring in some whiskey. “But here in Ireland we drink this.” He half expected her to complain but she downed it in one go.

“Is that the best you’ve got?”

“You’re really challenging me?”

“Do I need to spell it out?” She shot back. Klaus loved a challenge and this was no exception. 

“Not at all, love, I just hope you’ve brought your A game.” She nodded and a flood of shots followed. Caroline to her credit was impressive but not enough to topple Klaus who’d been doing this a while.

He’d lifted her bridal style and laid her carefully in bed upstairs, not missing just how cute she looked mumbling the words to the Star Spangled Banner. They’d made a bet during rounds that they could sing all words to their national anthem. True to her inebriated form she obliged even close to passing out.

He turned off the lights and shut the door quietly. Klaus wasn’t expecting to learn much but a drunken Caroline had poured out her heart and he wasn’t quite sure what to do or say when he saw her next. 

7 hours later….  

She woke with one eye open unsure of her foreign surroundings, the fact her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls was enough to kill the usual shriek the situation would evoke.  

She sat up quickly, regretting it immediately as the room began to spin and also threatening never to stop. At least in the Wizard of Oz a house fell down and righted the situation but not here unfortunately. There weren’t even a few cows flying past to keep her entertained just the thought that there was no bucket to capture her stomach proceeds. 

Before she could spread them far and wide, a bucket appeared from nowhere. Caroline didn’t look up, just glad she had it and proceeded to make use of it. She barely noticed when he laid her back, wiping her mouth with a wet cloth and placing aspirin and water bedside before leaving again.

9 hours later…   

Waking up again, Caroline felt slightly less sick and more so embarrassed about her behaviour. She was just lucky he hadn’t seen her like this, why she cared was a mystery.

Caroline attempted to move from the bed, only noticing him seated in the corner of the room and with just enough time to grab the sheet and wrap it around her pyjama clad body.  

“I’ve seen it all before, if that’s any consolation,” he offered standing up, his indifference not lost on Caroline. “You felt the need to come downstairs and complain about the lack of electricity in that early this morning.”

Suddenly it all came back. The power outage, their argument, the incessant drinking and whatever came after that. Given she had some clothing on was a good sign she hadn’t cheated on her fiance-to-be with some village idiot. But why was he in her room?

“And why are here in my room?” She demanded. She half expected him to split but he held his ground.

“I like to keep the rooms tidy, wouldn’t want the guests to think that we take their amenities for granted.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” she muttered, desperate for some water until he held out a bottle. Was this weird guy psychic? Sure he was kind of handsome in those dark jeans and a navy henley that hugged his toned chest but she had a fiance. Well, almost. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, screwing the cap on the bottle. “I suppose I should be going then.”

“Yeah, can’t keep lover boy waiting,” he mumbled without much sound.

“Excuse me?” 

“Well, Dublin is over four hours away but I can drive you,” he offered. “If you’d like?”

“And why would you do that exactly? After…”

“The blackout, the whinging, the drinking and the aftermath you mean?”

“Yeah, I guess?”

“I’m a glutton for punishment I suppose,” he growled. “I’ll meet you outside in twenty minutes.”

“No breakfast in this establishment then?” She called after his retreating form down the stairs.

“I’d rather you don’t vomit in my car like you have everywhere else in my establishment, Forbes.”

“Charming,” she groaned. Partly annoyed that she threw up and partly annoyed she had to do it in front of him, of all frustrating people. She was surprised he hadn’t chanted ‘I told you so’ yet.  

But why was he so willing to take her to Dublin without question? Most guys would run in the opposite direction, especially one so rude and uptight. Maybe he was just making sure she left his precious village of Dingle? These types were protective of their hometowns so Caroline decided to put it down to that and pack her bags.

2 hours later….

“No car sickness?” He asked a few miles into their journey, passing a water bottle over the passenger seat. She’d been asleep for the most part but Klaus had noticed her rousing as they drove through a neighbouring village. 

“Wow, you really take this whole doctor thing seriously, are you sure you didn’t miss your calling?” She asked gruffly, rubbing her eyes from sleep and taking the bottle from his outstretched hand.

“No need to miss anything, I am a Doctor.” 

“But you own that inn with poor electricity?”

“Funnily enough we can multi-task over here, not sure what goes on in that warped country of yours, love. And that whole electricity debacle was your fault.”

“But yet you have time to drive me to Dublin?” She asked ignoring his last comment, no doubt on purpose.

“What can I say, I’m obviously extremely bored with my life and need something to poke my eyes out and tell me I’m not dreaming.”

“Wow, someone obviously screwed you over,” she insisted. “I can tell a jilted lover a mile off.”

“Says the person who promised me unlimited Bon Jovi and Nickelback on this road trip.” 

“Liar, stop trying to change the subject with bad music choices I never agreed upon.” 

“Says the girl about to propose to some guy in Dublin?” Klaus couldn’t help himself, it just came out. She didn’t hear him last time but this time he wasn’t so lucky.

“I tend to say way too much when I’m drunk obviously.”

“No kidding,” Klaus shot back. 

“You have this way of telling me my most insecure thoughts without much feeling. I’m a little concerned about your bedside matter to be honest.”

“My bedside manner is fine but I’m concerned about your taste in men,” he shot back. 

“Because you are perfect right?”

“Not at all,” he murmured. “My ex-girlfriend thought I was inept and it never really changed in her eyes. You called your boyfriend last night and a girl answered. You laughed it off but we both know that…”

“He’s an ass.”

“You can do so much better than him and if you don’t pick a letter I’m going to beat you at the Eye Spy Championships.”

“You’re such a competitive ass…”

“You already said that, and okay Eye Spy with my little eye beginning with…”

“X”

“Is that a kiss?”

“You wish Mikaelson,” she shot back. “It will take more than that…”

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph? I don't know if you read a lot of fanfiction or not, but if you do, do you have a fluff guide? I'm feeling down in the dumps, and I'm not feeling like navigating a sea of smut, as I'm very much asexual, but I really want to read some quality Johnlock fluff. Pretty please, with a cherry on top?

Hi Nonny! *hugs*

I absolutely have smut-free Johnlock fic recs! Part of my massive collection of Johnlock Fluff Fics lists! I’m still working on the list, but I’ll give you what I have for now! I MIGHT have an explicit fic tangled into the “Domestics” recs, so just double check the rating before you click on it!

GEN, PRE-SLASH & FRIENDSHIP

Defining John Watson by StillWaters1 (K+, 660 w. || Friendship) – “Not good?” Two words and Lestrade realized just who John Watson actually was.

I’m Sorry by bewdifuldragon (K, 1K+ w. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Sick John) – During a case - that just for the record, he never wanted to take on anyway - John falls ill; and a guilt-ridden Sherlock does everything he can to make amends.

Priorities by Starlight05 (K+, 1K+ w || Friendship, Worried Sherlock/John) – The power is out on Baker Street, so candles are the only source of light at 221B. But then, at night, things go terribly wrong, and Sherlock and John realize just how much they mean to each other.

Further Impressions by grannysknitting (K+, 1k+ w. || Friendship & Family) – Sherlock meets the people who made John Watson the man he is today… the reciprocal family dinner. Sequel to First Impressions

In Which Lestrade Looks in on Sherlock and Observes by Aztecwarfareandcrumping (K+, 1K+ w. || Lestrade POV, Friendship, Hurt Comfort, John Whump) – John’s in hospital, which means Sherlock is, too. Lestrade takes it upon himself to look in on them.

I Hear Newcastle is Dreadful This Time of Year by oxfordlunch (G, 1,515 w. || Sofa Cuddling, Hugs, Mentions of Alcoholism, Pining / Anxious Sherlock) – When the fourteenth day comes, he gets a cab to Heathrow.

Texts and Tea by JillianWatson1058 (FFNet, K, 959 w.|| Friendship & Humour) - A John who is woken up at 2:30 in the morning is not a happy John. Sherlock, frankly, doesn’t care. He just wants his tea.

Personal Space by probablyquantum (T, 1,814 w. || Pre-Slash, Cuddles, Nightmares, Awkwardness) – John and Sherlock renegotiate the rules governing personal space. Pre-Slash.

First Impressions by grannysknitting (K+, 2K+ w. || Family & Friendship) – Meet the Holmes’. John gains some insight into the environment that produced the two prodigies - Sherlock and Mycroft.

Scrutiny by lifeonmars (NR, 5,100 w. || Domestics, Sherlock’s Deductions, John Tries Deductions, Love Confessions, Anxious John) – What is it like to live with someone who can nearly read your mind? John’s life comes into focus under the magnifying glass of Sherlock Holmes.

I’m Pretty Sure This Changes Shit by cwb (E, 7,672 w. || Fluff, Cudding, Doctor/Patient, Accidents) – Sherlock finds increasingly ridiculous ways to get John to patch him up after hurting himself.

A Study in Intimacy by doodle (T, 5,183 w.|| First Time, Romance, Virginity, First Kiss) – People don’t touch Sherlock Holmes, not like they touch other people. Then he meets John Watson.

Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, 47,709 w. || Casefic, Fluff, Romance, Frottage) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results.

100 ways to say ‘I love you’ by Teatrolley (NR, 2,143 w. || Slow Build, Pining Sherlock) – In which there are a hundred phrases and none of them are “I love you.” Until they are.

Heart’s a Mess by svenjastrange (NR, 2,249 w. || Fluff) – Sherlock’s heart is a mess.

Sherlock Doesn’t Like Summer Nights by sherrinholmes (T, 337 w. || Fluff) – “Isn’t it considered normal and wise to remove layers when one finds one’s self overheating?” Sherlock threw the shirt into some dark corner of the room and began working on the drawstring of his pyjama trousers.

Rooftop Confession by Random_Nexus (T, 2,514 w. || Asexual Sherlock, Friendship / Love, Developing Relationship) – Sherlock asks John to join him for a slightly unexpected discussion.

Bitter Nights Turned Sweet by Hyliare (T, 4,076 w. || Insomnia, Emotional H/C, Cuddling, Hallucinations) – Sherlock has always had trouble sleeping; he hasn’t always had someone in his life willing to help.

The Most Luminous of People by liriodendron (M, 10,979 w. || Synesthesia, Pre-Slash, Developing Romance, First Kiss) – In which Sherlock Holmes finds out what it’s like to truly want something, John Watson isn’t too bad at deductions, and everything gets a bit bright for a minute. Part 1 of Conductivity

Cuddling by GraciousK (G, 1,107 w. || Fluff and Angst, Cuddling/Snuggling, Fluff, Hypothermia) – When John finally finds Sherlock, he’s hypothermic and delirious. John warms him up the only way Sherlock will allow: body heat. It ends up more angsty than sexy. Part 2 of 30-day OTP Challenge: Johnlock

Jumper by bofurs_laugh (G, 520 w. || Friendship, Pre-Slash, Christmas) – John wakes to find something he never thought possible. Part 4 of Sherlock Advent Series

Of Locks and Keys by Youarethelightoftheworld (G, 574 w. || H/C, Angst, Falling in Love, Friendship) – He listens to the steady beating of John’s heart and thinks of his own; weak and vulnerable, but aching to be released.

Sometimes, it doesn’t take much… by OswinCumberbatch (G, 1208 w. || H/C, Fluff, Pre-Slash) – “Sherlock,” John tried again, his hand cupping the nape of Sherlock’s neck. “You’re scaring me.”

Home and Dry by BeautifulFiction (G, 1052 w. || Fluff, Friendship, Pre-Slash) – Sometimes actions speak louder than words, and comfort can come from the most unlikely source. John and Sherlock pre-slash blanket-fic fluff.

Baskerville After Dark by Ttime42 (T, 1k+ w. || Friendship, Humour, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Pre-Slash) – John and Sherlock have to share a bed at Baskerville. Snippets of their time at Dartmoor.

Aestival by BeautifulFiction  (G, 1,254 w. || Fluff, Pre-Slash) – There is such a thing as a perfect day.

Behind Closed Curtains by twisting_vine_x (G, 2,939 w. || Dancing, Angst, Pre-Slash) – Set loosely during season two, when Sherlock and John are still, ahem, dancing around each other. Sherlock teaches John how to dance.

The Second Law of Thermodynamics by entanglednow (T, 3,614 || Asexual Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Sharing Body Heat) – In which there’s no heating and there’s a dead owl in Sherlock’s bed. Part 1 of Thermodynamics

DOMESTICS

Christmas With Sherlock by grannysknitting (K, 830 w. || Friendship & Family, Christmas) – John spends Christmas with Sherlock. Mrs Hudson gets a pressie.

The Sonata Principle by arioso dolente (K+, 1K+ w || Friendship, Music, Sherlock’s POV) – Sherlock Holmes is a genius, and so is fluent in many languages. He excels in English, French, German, and any number of others. He is matchless in the subtle language of observation and deduction. What no one understands is that none of these was ever his native language, the language of his thoughts. At least, until someone else happens to figure it out.

Where John Reflects on Just How Much Better His Life Would Be by fraughtwithsparkles (FFNet, T, 1K+ || Friendship) - Sometimes, John wondered what his life would be like if he’d never met Sherlock Holmes. But in the end, wouldn’t it be so boring, so lonely, so utterly despairing without his best friend at his side?

The First Night by TheForerunner (NR, 1,043 w. || First Time, Fluff, Non-Explicit, Prose) – When all was over, Sherlock reached to dress again and John reached to stop him. They sat at opposite ends of the bed and one set of eyes surveyed the other’s set of limbs, and they were quiet in the downbeat, melody suspended. Sherlock was sheepish, and this confused John, who now smelled of his companion and felt they were part of one another.

Upon Reflection, Tenable Frippery by emmagrant01 (T, 1,299 w. || John’s Beard, First Kiss, Fluff) – John was, inexplicably, growing a beard.

The Pigeon’s deplorable nesting place by SlothfulSlytherin (G, 1,482 w. || Alternate First Meeting, Humour, Fluff) – Upon returning to London, John Watson took up residence in a mouldy little flat on Baker Street. The flat itself wasn’t all that special or interesting, his new neighbour on the other hand…

There’s Always Three of Us by Itsallfine (T, 1,765 w. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Love Declarations, First Kiss, Anniversary, S4 Fix it Fic, Fluff) – Sherlock takes John and Rosie out to Angelo’s and gets a chance to correct the biggest mistake of his life.

Manipulation by sixbynine (K+, 2K+ w || Experimenting John) – John Watson is not as unobservant as Sherlock thinks, nor is he above using what he knows. Even if it is just to make sure Sherlock eats and sleeps.

Anne Bonny by Spartangal22 (K+, 2K+ w. || Family & Friendship, Mary is Nice, Watson Family, Holmes Family) – Sherlock just wanted to do something nice for the baby, but a simple phone call leads him and the Watsons back to his parent’s cottage, where Mr. and Mrs. Holmes welcome the little girl as their own.

Wintery Hell by Belldere (K+, 2K+ w. || Friendship & Humour, Christmas) – With Sherlock being roped into spending Christmas with his family, John had his own Christmas all planned out with his other friends and family… That is until he’s extended a forceful invitation from Mycroft and an assumption from Sherlock who, once again, failed to notice John wasn’t in the room when he ‘asked’.

100 ways to say ‘I love you’ by Teatrolley (NR, 2,143 w. || Slow Build, Pining Sherlock, Fluff, Domestics) – In which there are a hundred phrases and none of them are “I love you.” Until they are.

Six Dates by avawtsn (E, 7,421 w. || 5+1, First Time / Kiss, Post S4-Compliant, POV John) – A rather accidental 5+1 written for the prompt “is this a date?” Hint: it is.

What to do with an Ailing Flatmate by LyricalSinger (FFNet, K, 1K+ w. || Friendship, Fluff, Sickfic) – John is ill, and Sherlock is trying!

Overtime by glow_in_the_dark (Ao3, G, 1,149w. || Fluff) – John has worked over 80 hours this week, and will no doubt have to go into work tomorrow too. Arriving home beyond dead tired, his flatmate seems to take make it his personal mission to make John comfortable. Part 2 of Little Fluffy Oneshots

The Devil You Know by PipMer (T, 9,300 w. || Friends to Lovers, Romance, Holmes Brothers, Jealous Sherlock) – The Holmes brothers are behaving oddly. John is dazed and confused. In other words, it’s business as usual at 221B Baker Street. Except when it’s not.

subterfuge isn’t subterfuge if you don’t know what the hell you’re doing by scullyseviltwin (T, 4,157 w. || Est. Rel., Fluff, Anniversary) – The entire idea was ludicrous, and terrified John a whole hell of a lot.

Heart’s a Mess by svenjastrange (NR, 2,249 w. || Fluff) – Sherlock’s heart is a mess.

Teacups by wsswatson (T, 1,045w. || Fluff) – A forgotten purchase rekindles a flame.

Two To Tango (The Cold Hands, Warm Heart Remix) by igrockspock (T, 1,207w || Domestic) – When John is wounded while pursuing a suspect, Sherlock refuses to leave his side. {{FAVE!}}

Entanglement by orphan_account (G, 3,218 w. || Pining, Confessions) - On Christmas Eve, snow covers London, John visits Harry, and Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson untangle some knots.

His (Again) by patternofdefiance (M, 820 w. || Fluff, John Comes Home) – John wonders how he had never seen this before, never noticed before, how happy Sherlock can look, and also how lonely.

Five Times John Noticed But Didn’t Really by ScandalousMinds (T, 6,383 w. || Domestics, Fluff/Angst, Bratty Sherlock, Idiots, Pre-Slash, Jealous Sherlock, Love Confessions) – 5 times John (thought) he noticed something peculiar about his and Sherlock’s relationship but really missed the obvious.

Thirty Three Hours Without John Watson by Bookaholic, mybrotherharry (M, 6,232 w. || First Kiss / Time, Pining Idiots, BG Mystrade, Crackish) – Sherlock can SO TOTALLY survive without John Watson. It should be a piece of cake.AKA the time when Sherlock braved grocery store lines for milk, purchased and gave away a box of tampons and figured out what the X-Factor is. Greg and Mycroft didn’t sign up for this shit. Next time, they are going to the Bahamas.

Maybe This Christmas by feverishsea (T, 6,021 w. ||  Christmas, Fluff, Getting Together ) Anthea has given up her life, her own desires, even her name in service of something greater than herself. But that doesn’t mean she can’t see when someone else wants something – even if she doesn’t happen to care overmuch for that person. And it doesn’t mean she isn’t willing to help. (Anthea gets the boys together)

Tangential by Bitenomnom (NR, 2,047 w. || Fluff, Love, Nightmares, Cuddling, Ace!Sherlock) – …In which John stitches up Sherlock’s head (but not really), Sherlock comes into John’s room at night to take his laptop (but not really), Sherlock is married to his Work (but not really), and John is more than proficient at keeping Sherlock (really, definitely). Part 48 of Mathematical Proof

Twas The Night by xox-hattii-xox (K+, 3K+ w. || Humour & Friendship, Christmas, Domestics, Fluff) – Twas the night before Christmas…and Sherlock has had just about enough of the whole thing! 'Really, John, a Santa Hat’ Christmas in 221b, and Sherlock just wants it over with.

Worth It by JezebelGoldstone (G, 3,467w. || Fluff, Humour, Injury, H/C, Cuddling) – John recieves a minor injury during a case, and Sherlock’s reaction makes John wonder if Sherlock is the best friend he’s ever had, or the worst.

A Bit of Indulgence by beltainefaerie (NR, 3,364 w. || Fluff, Fake/Pretend, Pride Parade, Dev. Rel.) - A case leads John and Sherlock to fake being boyfriends and John runs into an old acquaintance.

On a Sunday Morning by SD_Ryan (G, 3,136w. || Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock) – Sherlock has a little problem. He can’t stop obsessing about John Watson. {{Note to Self: ‘Cheese Tease’}}

Let Go by thisisforyou (G, 2743 w || First Kiss, Fluff, H/C) – In the end, separating John’s things from Sherlock’s in the chaos of their sitting room is like pulling a limpet from a wet rock. Especially when the rock is clinging on for dear life, because Sherlock doesn’t want to let go.

Duvet (green) by Mazarin221b (G, 2,021 w. || Post-HoB, Revelations, First Kiss, Sherlock’s Mind Palace) – Sherlock recalibrates and restructures his mind palace so it looks like 221b. What he chooses to put in John’s room is a bit of a surprise, and a revelation.

Christmas at Holmes Cottage by johnlockedstarkid (G, 4,295 w. || Christmas, Fake Relationship, Love Confessions, Holmes Family, Pining, Kisses, Fluff, Allusions to Mystrade) – Sherlock doesn’t want to have to deal with his mother’s wishes for him to find a partner when he goes to visit them for Christmas, so asks John to pose as his boyfriend. Little does he know he’s not the only one who wishes that the relationship could be real.

No Mushrooms Please Series by lbmisscharlie (G, 5,456 w. across 3 stories || Fluff, Bromance, Sharing Food) – John and Sherlock and their lazy, dysfunctional Sunday mornings in bed. In which Sherlock has difficulty sleeping and John makes lots of toast. Shameless fluff.

Adjacent by weeesi (E, 5,711 w. || Bed Sharing, Fluff and Smut, Pining Idiots, On a Trip, Frottage) – Sherlock and John spend the night at a hotel in adjoining rooms, and keep finding excuses to visit each other’s rooms, until WHOOPS they’re sharing a bed.

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w. || Retirement, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you’re living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Missing Christmas Spirit by SilentAuror (M, 15,002 w. || Christmas, Domesticity, Post S3, Happy Ending) – John hates Christmas. So does Sherlock, but he suggests that they do Christmas “properly” this year to see if they can’t track down its elusive magic and discover for themselves what Christmas is supposed to be about.

Onomatopoeia by aquabelacqua (M, 6,904 w.|| Sherlock POV, First Time/Kiss, Chair Sex, Hair Pulling, Dirty Talk) – Something is the matter with John. Sherlock is determined to figure out what it is. Mark his words.

Coda by SilentAuror (E, 7,448 w. || PWP, POV John, Porn with Feels, Switch, Fluff) – Coda to A Satisfactory Arrangement. “This is all I want to do for the rest of my life,” Sherlock tells him. “Screw the work. Let’s just stay in bed forever.” Part 2 of A Satisfactory Arrangement

I can’t pretend by Salambo06 (E, 7,692 w. || Fake Relationship, Victor Trevor, Jealous John, Miscommunications, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Anal, BJs) – They had arrived more than a hour ago, and the moment they had walked inside the hotel reception, John had understood why Sherlock hadn’t wanted to come. Two men, posh suits and expensive watches on their wrists, had come to greet them with sharp remarks and badly hidden mockery, and John had seen red. Sherlock hadn’t said anything, mostly ignoring the two men entirely, and without thinking twice about it, John had slid an arm around Sherlock’s waist and introduced himself as his husband.

the first day of forever by darcylindbergh (E, 11,850 w. || Est. Relationship, Domestics, Light Angst, Insecurity, Emotional H/C) – “I’m going to marry you,” John murmurs with against Sherlock’s smile, and they both giggle in the joy of it. “We’re getting married.”“Yes,” Sherlock says, just to hear himself say it out loud. “We are.” A June wedding. Part 4 of things fairy tales are made of

And if you say the word, I could stay with you by CaitlinFairchild (E, 12,842 w. || Domestic Fluff, BottomJohn / Topping from the Bottom, Fluff and Romance, Dirty Talk, Proposals) – What Sherlock thinks is, On the day I die, be it in a dirty alley at forty or in my bed at eighty, the last thing I will remember is tonight, the way you looked at at me on the snowy pavement, cheeks pink with the cold, breath puffing in frosty white clouds, your heart in your eyes and snowflakes in your hair. I will remember that single perfect moment in my life, that moment I knew I had everything I ever wanted, and whatever happens next, I will die content. What he says is simply, “Marry me.”

Achieving the Together-Coloured Instant by teahigh (E, 20,776 w. || Est. Rel, PTSD, Codependency, Fluff & Angst, H/C, Smut, Demisexual Sherlock, Experiments) – John wonders if this is how it’s going to be: A life speaking in code, because they’re both too stupid to figure out how to say, “I love you.”

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock’s parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

PLATONICS

You Can Imagine The Christmas Dinners by johnsarmylady (T, 1K+ w. || Friendship, Family, Introspection, Fluff, Post-ASIP) – Set the morning after a Study in Pink, John sits and contemplates Mycroft’s words. In answer to a challenge set by Librarianmum, and dedicated to that talented lady.

Cuddling by GraciousK (Ao3, G, Angst/Cuddling/Hypothermia, 1107 w.) - John finds Sherlock and he’s delirious. John saves Sherlock, semi-happy ending.

The Cure for Snoring by Goddess_of_the_Night (G, 1,278 w. || Bed Sharing, Cuddling, Fluff, Domestic, Platonic / Sleepy Cuddles) – Sherlock and John spend the night in Scotland after finishing a case. The sole Inn in town only has one room left…one bed. This would be fine - if not a bit awkward - if Sherlock hadn’t developed a habit of snoring loudly. John suffers through many hours of sleeplessness before he discovers that skin-to-skin contact stops the noise. Part 1 of Dreamscapes

I Hear Newcastle is Dreadful This Time of Year by oxfordlunch (G, 1,515 w. || Sofa Cuddling, Hugs, Mentions of Alcoholism, Pining / Anxious Sherlock) – When the fourteenth day comes, he gets a cab to Heathrow.

Wintery Hell by Belldere (K+, 2K+ w. || Friendship & Humour, Christmas) – With Sherlock being roped into spending Christmas with his family, John had his own Christmas all planned out with his other friends and family… That is until he’s extended a forceful invitation from Mycroft and an assumption from Sherlock who, once again, failed to notice John wasn’t in the room when he 'asked’.

Feel your breathing by Mixxy (T, 2,129 w. || Post-TRF, Cuddling, Separation Anxiety, Platonics) – And he was numb yet feeling far too much, he was back on that pavement, and his mind was buzzing far too hard, whispering you didn’t do it in time, Mrs. Hudson is dead, Lestrade is dead, your John is dead dead dead- And then John’s hand was around his wrist, thumb rubbing over his pulse point, and Sherlock’s not sure if it was to comfort him or John but either way it worked.

Drawstring by May_Shepard (E, 7,412 w. || Friends to Lovers, UST/RST, Fluff and Smut, Post-TAB, John POV) – John is bothered by Sherlock’s slowly-falling jim-jams… as in hot and bothered and he is trying to deal with a sexy dishevelled Sherlock while also keeping his pining in check.

A Category Unto Themselves by ElvendorkInfinity (FFNet, K+, Friendship, 463 w.) – John tries - and fails - to put a label on his relationship with Sherlock.

The Kids Are Alright by p.r. fox (K+, 9K+ w. || Humour & Friendship, TeenJohn, Young Sherlock, Babysitting) – John is struck with a memory from his teenage years.  "You drew this,“ John grins, pointing to the little drawing on the paper. “You gave it to me when you were five. I babysat you.”

The Important Bit by Solshine (G, 9,984 w. || Platonic Marriage, Domestics) – Just where exactly is the line between “to love” and “to be in love”? What difference is required between “flatmate” and “husband”? (Besides the rings, obviously.) No, the important bit is that they have each other. Thirty years, give or take, in an atypical marriage. Basically a long bit of platonic domestic fluff.

The Green Blade by verityburns (T, 72,929 w. || Casefic, Bromance) – As a serial killer hits the headlines, the police are out of their depth and the next victim is out of time. With faith in Sherlock Holmes at an all time low, this is a case which will push loyalties to the limit…

The Cuddle Sutra by aceofhearts61 (G, 3,218 w. || Ace!Sherlock/Straight!John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort) – In which Sherlock orders the Cuddle Sutra; he and John try out some of the positions. Part 20 of A Love with No Name

Usefulness of Having Friends by ObservationofTrifles (K, 1K+ w. || Friendship)  – Sherlock is sick and John is bringing him to the doctor’s. On the way there in the tram, John decides to play a deduction game to cheer Sherlock up.

Random Numbers by songlin (T, 1,671 w. || Cuddling/Snuggling, Fluff, Ace!Sherlock/Straight!John) – Just because they’re not having sex doesn’t mean they aren’t intimate. A collection of moments in the relationship of asexual!Sherlock and straight!John.

Settling In by PorcupineGirl (T, 1030 w. || Ace!Sherlock / Het-BiRo!John, Queerplatonic Rel., Fluff) – Asexual!Sherlock/Straight!John in a queerplatonic romantic relationship. It’s a bit of an oddball, but anything fluffy and loving and nonporny will be endlessly and forever adored. It’s always fun to see the two work out that hey, we’re in love, we don’t have sex, but it’s still a wonderful and meaningful relationship.

An Experiment in Empathy Series by belovedmuerto (G to T, 62,397 w. across 13 Stories || Empath John, Epic Bromance) – In which John is an empath, Sherlock is Sherlock, and an epic bromance happens. In the aftermath of The Great Game, John creates an unexpected bond between himself and Sherlock. Now they have to learn how to deal with it. John is better at this than Sherlock is.

Static by Johnnlocked (Krullenbol2602) (G, 917 w. || Fluff, H/C, Dr. John, Headaches, POV Sherlock, Fluff, H.C, Pre-TSo3) – Sherlock suffers from a headache.

A Love with No Name Series by aceofhearts61 (G to M, 49,955 w across 20 Stories || Ace!Sherlock, Kisses, Cuddles & Snuggles, Schmoop, Platonic Romance) – In which Asexual!Sherlock and Straight!John are platonically in love life partners.

The Important Bit by Solshine (G, 9,984 w || Platonic Relationship, Ace!Sherlock, Domestic, Fluff) – Just where exactly is the line between “to love” and “to be in love”? What difference is required between “flatmate” and “husband”? (Besides the rings, obviously.) No, the important bit is that they have each other. Thirty years, give or take, in an atypical marriage. Basically a long bit of platonic domestic fluff.

[percyinpanties]

Let's see... Since I don't know the number, how about 63 with Percy/ Jason/ Ethan?

63 - Myneighbour has a really squeaky bed and my bedroom is right above theirs AU

 I also originally planned a different ending (ya ethan was gonna get some.) but dear xagrok didn’t want to be defiling my inbox (as if there’s any saving it from all the filth that’s been in it the last years) so Iwent with this instead:

Creak. Creak. Creak.

 Ethan thinks, for the first time in his life, he might actuallycommit murder.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

It’sgotten worse over the last few weeks. When Ethan first moved in, the noise wasa rare occurrence, most likely due to an old bed frame and bad dreams. Ethanhadn’t minded it then, couldn’t blame the guy when his own bedgroaned every time he fought his blankets throughout the night.

This, however, is different. Ethan knows this excessivenoise isn’t just a bad night’s sleep, and it’s not the first night he’s laid awake listening to this. Heknows exactly what’s going on below him and theoccasional muffled curse or moan leave little to the imagination.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

At this point, Ethan isn’t surehow much more of this he can take. Since Ethan’s moved in a year ago, he’s met the guy from the flat belowonly a few times, but it’senough to supply his brain with ideas he most definitely shouldn’t entertain.  With every creak from below, Ethan’s mind conjures images of dark hairand piercing green eyes, red bitten plump lips and flushed cheeks. Most days,it’s enough to imagine the bubblyred-head Ethan’s seen in and out of thedownstairs flat thrown into the mix to put him off the thought for the night – there are many things Ethan’s interested in but girls certainlyaren’t one of them.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

With a huff, Ethan turns over and buries his face in hispillow, pointedly ignoring any and all interest his body might take in whateveris going on below. He’s had along day, all he wants is to slip away into dreams that most definitely don’t revolve around unfairly prettyboys.

Ethan almost succeeds. He’s inthat place just between waking and dreaming, where reality seizes to be atangible thing and the stuff of dreams feels close enough to wrap his fingersaround it.

 “Fuck…”

 The sound catches Ethan off guard, and in his dazed statethe moan almost sounds as if it comes from his own room. It does things to himthat Ethan isn’t proud to admit, especiallywhen it’s followed by a higher pitchedwhine.

“Fuck this.” Ethan mutters and checks his clock.It’s half past 2 am.

For half a second, Ethan actually considers making the tripdownstairs to tell this guy that most sane people sleep at this hour. Instead,Ethan grabs his pillow and blanket and leaves his bed behind in favour of hiscouch, where at least the moans won’t reachhis ears.

~*~

The next morning, Ethan’s moodis sour even by his usual standards. He tries not to let it out on hisfurniture, but the clang of cupboard doors and drawers slamming shut gives histemper away. He pours himself a bowl of cereal and starts up his crappy littlecoffee maker only to open his refrigerator and find a depressing lack of milkin its door.

“Of fucking course.” He curses under his breath, turningaway to slam the door shut. He should have gone to grab groceries days agoalready, but he figured then that he’d beable to stretch leftovers and stale bread for a little bit longer.

Looking between his sad bowl of dry cereal and the gurglingcoffee maker, Ethan actually feels tempted to just eat it as it is and putshopping off another day. Even for him, that’d be anew low.

Reluctantly, Ethan pushes away from the counter. He findshis jacket and keys strewn in the living area, then goes to grab his walletfrom the table before he heads out the door.

Normally, Ethan avoids the outside world as much as he can.It’s not that he’s a loner, necessarily, but he isn’t fond of crowds and noise or the rush and bumble of thecity. There is only so long Ethan can avoid this though if he wants to eat anactual meal anytime soon.

He gets down only oneflight of stairs before he hears voices and laughter and slows his steps. Ethandoesn’t want to eavesdrop, or be acreep about this, but there are neighbours he avoids seeing for the most partand today is not the day he is going to change those habits.

“I’ll see you tonight.” Amanly voice says and Ethan has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Out of allthe people living in the apartment complex, ofcourse he’d run into the neighbourkeeping him up at night.

Knowing the guy won’t sayanything to him though, Ethan continues his way down the stairs. As he roundsthe corner and his eyes fall onto the door leading into the apartment below hisown, Ethan falters in his step once more.

All this time, Ethan had thought that his neighbour wasseeing the redheaded girl that always seems to be hanging around this place – but the guy kissing Ethan’s neighbour goodbye is neither aredhead nor a girl.

The tall blonde doesn’t evenspare Ethan a second glance, just leans down for another quick kiss to theother’s lips and the realisationthat it was the two of them making all this noise the last few weeks causes somethinginside Ethan to snap.

“I don’t deserve this.” Hesays, not meaning for it to come out aloud but he cannot stop the words beforethey tumbled over his lips.

Even worse, it gets Ethan both men’s attention.

“Excuse me?” The dark-haired one, Ethan’s neighbour, says and he thankfullylooks amused rather than offended.

Ethan opens, then closes his mouth. There is no way oftalking his way out of this and he doesn’t thinkhe’ll make it better by simply fleeingeither. He takes a few steps further down the stairs, but the others’ eyes aren’t leaving him.

“You…” Ethan says, and points a finger at the dark-haired one. “You need to get yourself a new bed.”

It’s notwhat he should be saying, not by a long shot, but Ethan is past the point ofrational decision.

He gets no reply, but the guy blushes brightly giving awaythat he knows exactly what Ethan is getting at. Before either of them can sayanything after all, Ethan pushes past them and hurries his way down the stairsand away from the conversation.

[paniccord-ff]

50.

Looking down at my watch “look at this nigga, he be staring at his watch now” Fresh said hitting my arm, looking up at him laughing “well, you know how it be. I ain’t single to be out so late anymore” the whole room fell into a fit of laughter, I felt like shit because why are they laughing at me “that’s what husbands do right?” I shrugged “I don’t know” sitting down on the chair “just because you married don’t mean you need to be home all the damn time, we all have bitches. We got bitches here” pointing at Sinko “hey, these are y’all bitches. Not mine” I just need to point that out “but we here, why you gotta be awakard and look at your watch all the damn time. You always home, you came back what, a week ago? You been coming out for two days now, I am sure she will be fine” licking my lips sitting back in my chair “y’all missing me and shit, it’s ok. I know, I am sure y’all are struggling for a home” I chuckled saying “hey, fuck you” Fresh spat, I had to add that. I just only started coming back in the studio and I am backed up on features, I am not having to make an album. I got orders from the big boss himself, not my manager but above him. I just don’t understand why they want an album, they don’t want me to go ghost. I have to be doing something, then again when single Chris was thinking he just wanted to go on tour and make albums, I regret the decisions single Chris made.

Rubbing my eyes, I think I have caught up on the features “can you send that off to Tank, I will contact him myself” smoking some more of my blunt “then after that, we can start on my album” blowing the smoke out. It’s three in the morning, I really don’t think it’s good that I am starting an album “Chris, my man!” looking at the door seeing Diddy “I thought I heard you here, what’s good?” walking around the seats “you good?” dapping him “I am fine, how was the wedding? Congratulations, she is fine homie. You chose well” busting out laughing “you know me, never was going to settle with a hoe” Diddy made his way into the studio “you think you can help me out with some songs while you here?” I was deciding to go home “uh yeah, for sure. You got the beats?” I can get this done tonight “hey Cassie” hugging Cassie “congratulations on being married now, it looks good on you” I didn’t think there was a difference “is that a good thing?” I questioned “you look well, happy” letting out on oh, I am happy.

The sun is rising, my eyes half hooded. I am done, I am ready to sleep now. The lights turned green, pressing down on the acceleration lightly but even with that the Lamborghini sped off. If I didn’t have this music on loud I would be falling asleep, I got the munchies actually but I will leave that. My stomach is full of Hennessey, turning off onto the side street. People are waking up for work and I am here ready to go to sleep, speeding up the hill. The neighbours hate me but they are barely neighbours, we live on the same street and hood but that is it. I think I am way more good then I was before I met Rylee, they should be happy. Stopping outside the gate, patting down my pockets. I have the remote for the gate somewhere, lifting up my MacBook seeing the remote under there luckily. I would have rather slept in the car then ask Rylee because she would be so angry, the time too. I have been out all day and night now but I kept in contact with her.

“Chris! Christopher!” feeling a slap on the back of my head “huh” lifting my head up a little, my head falling back onto the pillow “seriously? Chris, wake that ass up” scrunching my face up “what?” I spat groggily “Royalty, Day care. You said you are taking her so get up, it’s her first day Chris” I ain’t doing that, I can’t even be bothered. I am going back to sleep, getting comfortable again “so you’re just going to sleep again” yanking the covers over my head, I am not going to deal with that. Silence finally, I can drift off back to sleep. Feeling the bed shifting, my eyes are so damn heavy. My body relaxing falling back to sleep gradually “Chris you need to wake up, I am not playing with you. You need to take Royalty to Day Care, I have an event to go too and a meeting and you knew this but you wanted to be out” I can’t even deal with this.

I am dying, my eyes are burning and my throat hurts, Rylee won’t drop it and I can’t change dates. She is just punishing me for no reason, I am not in the mood to be with stupid little kids. Clipping my watch on my wrist, grabbing onto my snapchat from the side table. I feel so bad, I feel like death and that is no lie. Makin my way down the stairs “daddy wake” side eyeing the fact I am awake “I don’t understand why you cannot change dates, it is not hard to do” placing my snapchat on my head “you’re right it’s not but we said today, you knew this. You want some food or not?” shaking my head “good, dress Royalty for me” I have just sat down, is she really making me do this “I can’t, I have a headache” looking over at Royalty, she is a mess “you don’t want daddy to dress you, do you?” she shook her head “mommy do it” smiling at my daughter, she is a good girl “I guess this is on you” getting up from the chair, I can have a nap on the couch.

“Daddy! Daddy!! Wake up!” feeling a little hand slap my leg “huh” opening my eyes seeing Royalty all dressed, closing my eyes again “say no, say you don’t want to go. Let me sleep please” hearing a laugh come from Rylee “just get up, I am leaving too” opening my eyes, let me actually get up. Royalty is still stood staring at me smiling “what is it?” shuffling off the couch, rubbing my eye “she wants you to tell her how she looks Chris, look at her backpack. Come on” letting out an oh, looking at my daughter “you wearing Black Pyramid, oh baby you look so beautiful” she twirled around “oh my god, is that princess backpack? Oh wow! I am jealous” Royalty giggled running to me, wrapping my arms around her “you look pretty baby, I am sorry. I am moody right now” I didn’t know I have to compliment both Rylee and Royalty now.

Pulling my top down, walking towards Rylee. She stared at me waiting for me to say something but I crouched down “I ain’t finna say bye to your mom, she been on my case for no reason. I am just trying to sleep Peanut but your mom is doing the most. I am saying bye to you though, I’ll speak to you soon, I will tell you everything that happened yesterday. I won’t tell your momma just you, I love you son” touching Rylee’ stomach “rest up in there” getting up from my position “wow” Rylee said all wide eyed, Royalty touched Rylee’ stomach “and look at that, Joe is here. Have fun” I am not happy at all “come on little momma” holding my hand out to Joe, shaking his hand walking out “Chris” Joe said, I rather not speak right now and just go to this stupid shit.

I think I wasted most of my time trying to fix the car seat in my Porsche, banging the car door shut “so we good to go?” looking at Royalty, I hate car seats. I have taken so much time that even Rylee is leaving at the same time as me, slowly driving towards Rylee. Pressing my window down “Rylee” I said out of window “oh you speaking to me?” she pointed at herself “take care” Rylee walked over to the car “same to you, I wish I could come with you both but just make sure she is safe there and happy. Call me if you want anything, I don’t know how long this meeting will be but I will be home as soon as I can.” Poking my lips, Rylee rolled her eyes at me. Moving her hair back with her hand kissing my lips “still mad you didn’t come home” she moved back “I miss you already!” I spat “nigga shut up!” Joe half shouted, putting my middle finger up at him.

I thought I will let my baby drive off first, staring at Rylee as she stared me. Gesturing her to drive off first, she flashed me a smile driving off in her Range. Driving behind slowly “so you going to tell me, what you got in that bag? You hiding food from daddy?” looking over at Royalty “no, I not tell” I will check myself when I get there, looking in my rear-view mirror to make sure the gates closed behind us. Getting my phone out from my pocket “let’s put some music on, no girly music though” I will just put it on a random shuffle, pressing play and placing my phone in my lap. I am following right behind Rylee, I bet she is getting annoyed with me. I need to turn off now anyways, I will stop annoying her. Pressing down on the acceleration speeding by Rylee, her lane has traffic so have fun with that.

Holding Royalty’ hand walking towards the day care, smiling down at her. It does make me happy, honestly mind blowing how involved I am with Royalty now, I would have never been trusted to do such a thing with her. I wouldn’t have been allowed to bring her to her first day here, I am truly blessed. Pressing the buzzer on the side “I do it!!” Royalty yelped trying to reach up, picking her up so she could press it “yay!” Royalty clapped, placing her down on the ground. Rylee told me to make sure this place is safe, makes Royalty happy and is good I think. I will make sure that it is of course. The door opened exposing a young female “hello there” she smiled “come on in” she held the door open, placing my hand behind Royalty’ head motioning her inside the building “hello, I am Lilly welcome” she held her hand out to me “hey, I’m Chris” I don’t know why I am introducing myself like she don’t know “nice to meet you and you must be Royalty, don’t you look pretty today. Who did your hair?” Royalty stepped back into me all shy “mommy” she said in a whisper “oh wow, it looks so pretty” Royalty is going to be shy now.

Walking behind the lady with Royalty in my arms, she is either lazy or just doesn’t like it “this is the room Royalty will be in, her class. How about we have some time in there and play? We can have daddy with you, yes?” Royalty is not feeling it, I know her “she will get used to it, I think she will anyways” I hope she does, she will be coming here for the mornings “this will help Royalty to engage with other children, get her ready for classrooms. This where we can begin development at this stage” I wish Rylee came, I have no idea what I am doing “alright, the thing I want to make sure is that my daughter is safe. I don’t want nobody else picking her up beside me or Rylee, you will meet her but she is not here. Nobody can pick Royalty up no matter what they say” the lady nodded her head “oh yes, nobody can come in this building. We have to see the parent before they even enter. Every parent is checked before they take a child, I understand having you as a parent you want her safety” I don’t trust Nia either, she is dying to see Royalty.

Walking into the room, placing Royalty on the ground “let’s take this off” taking Royalty’ backpack off her “I will hold it for you” I wonder what she has in this, it is heavy “what do you have in here?” I was supposed to check, unzipping the bag “Roro, seriously?” looking up at her “mine, it mine” she mumbled “so you stole my Grammy award? That is mine, you crazy” zipping the bag “I cannot believe you, why you taking awards for. Silly butt” straightening myself frowning at Royalty “Chris this is Peyton, she will be working closely with Royalty and the kids in this class” she is very young, pretty too. She must be mixed race “hey Peyton” shaking her hand “nice to meet you Chris” she ain’t so ugly like they usually are, feeling Royalty wrap herself around my leg and burst out crying “why are you crying?” why is she doing this now, seriously “she stole my Grammy and she is crying about it” shaking my head.

These chairs are so damn small, my big ass hanging off this shit “you finna paint like daddy do? Show me, come on baby. It’s not that bad, I am here” I don’t think Royalty’ first day is going as well as I thought “is she settling in well?” Peyton walked over to us “uhhh she is quiet, I think if I move she will cry or want to come” she let out an oh “that is fine we can speak here, Lilly was telling me that there is a concern about Royalty’ safety and we would never let Royalty leave without people we know of, so yourself and Rylee?” nodding my head “I just don’t want nothing to happen to her, I don’t want anybody to take Roro. This is all so new to her, she is pretty much always with me or Rylee so she is with adults mostly. Sometimes her cousins see her, so this is very different and sharing will be a little weird to do” this little girl keeps waving at me smiling and then giggling, smiling back at her “we will help with things like this, Royalty who is this painting for?” she asked “Roro, the lady asking you” I said Royalty looked up “daddy, mommy” smiling at her.

Royalty held onto my hand taking me everywhere, my back is aching and I am about tired of these kids “you can play with dolls here too baby, I will wait there while you play there” she shook her head, I am being bombarded with kids and I rather stand back “daddy sit here” I groaned out, I am not built for this right now. Sitting down on the small chair again “what you finna do now baby?” I need to keep this backpack close to me now, I am shocked she has my Grammy in her backpack. Didn’t Rylee check this or she might not have cared, Roro really took my Grammy to this place. Royalty is really not here for sharing because any kid that comes along she stares at them like they don’t belong. Feeling a hand touch my shoulder, turning my head seeing this little boy “hey” I have realised that there is more teachers here then there were before “I see you on TV!” the kid yelped “so do I, I see myself on TV. It’s weird” Royalty jumped on my leg “my daddy” she climbed on me “I thought you playing? What are you doing baby?” she wrapped her arms around my neck.

I do not want to come here again, but Royalty has to come here because I am about to be paying a whole lot of money for this. Rylee can come here because I have no idea how to deal “did you like playing here Royalty?” Peyton asked, Royalty straight up shook her head “no” that is my daughter “she will get used to it I am guessing” stepping outside “well we understand it is a big step, so if we start off slowly with her. Mornings is what you wanted?” I have no idea if I did “I think you spoke to my wife, she said mornings only” I didn’t agree to anything but say yes “great, it will be good for Monday if Rylee and you both come together so we get her more engaged and comfortable. She will soon settle into it, there may be a few tears when you leave her” smiling at Royalty “she is good at doing that, Roro is a diva” she is so moody for no reason.

I am so tired, I feel like dropping Royalty off with Rylee “what shall we do next? Something reasonable? Something to do with food?” grabbing my phone from the side panel, seeing my sound engineer calling me “what’s good homie?” I said down the phone “you didn’t take your hard drives with the music? Luckily nobody took it” I really didn’t “oh shit, you there now? I can come to the studio now?” what am I even playing at, I left my music hard drive there and anybody could have stole that “yeah, come now I am waiting” what an idiot “cool” disconnecting the call “I need to go and get my things from the studio baby, I know it’s boring but I need to get it” I don’t know why my daughter is moody, she is being moody for no reason.

Lifting Royalty up so she could press the button for the elevator “yay! Daddy!” she clapped, placing her back on the ground “can I have phone” Royalty turned to me “uh, not right now but I will give it you after baby ok?” the elevator doors opened slowly, Bailey’ face slowly dropped. Seeing both Lo and Bailey, turning my face motioning Royalty into the elevator. I am glad they are getting off, fuck them hating ass, fake ass motherfuckers. Turning around meaning mugging them both, hitting the top floor button. Lo turned to look behind him and I put a finger up at him, stupid nigga is such a fake after everything, I gotta thank him for Rylee though.

Smiling across me, my date is so cute “you trying to be grown huh baby, sat on your own looking at me like that. You chose this place” Royalty had me walking up and down Hollywood just to choose this place out of them all, it looks nice though. Just I have never been here weird enough “so baby, what would you like?” looking down at the menu, pushing my snapback down licking my lips “chicken!” I knew that, what do you get a child “are you ready to order?” the waiter came over, looking up at him “not really, Roro. What do you want? Tell this man what you want?” she climbed up on the booth seat “chicken! Chicken!” she jumped up and down “the only thing I can see on this thing is chicken and waffle? Can I have that and fries, can you get me southern fry. And then Sprite and water” closing the menu “sit down before you hurt yourself” even though I am hating life right now it is nice that it is just me and Roro together and nobody else.

I had to sit next to Royalty and feed her, she tried to be grown but I had to break the chicken up for her “mmmm, daddy eat” she lifted her hand up, shaking my head “daddy is ok, I think I have eaten most of your food now” she danced and ate the piece of chicken herself, I wonder when we can have a nap. I am sure she is due for some sleep because I know I am “juice!” she pointed, picking the water up for her “we need to clean your hands baby girl” she is a mess, see this wouldn’t have happened with Rylee because everything would have been perfectly done. Royalty is really damn thirsty, laughing at her drinking “oh my god my daughter, Royalty” my eyes widened moving the drink back looking to the side of me seeing Nia and a whole bunch of girls, my heart sank instantly. Nia started crying, I didn’t know what to do. Grabbing the tissue from the table cleaning Royalty’ hands, I need to get out of here “look at her, she has grown so much. Let me see her” Nia grabbed my arm “get off me, seriously don’t touch me!” yanking my arm away, I need to go now.

Royalty stared in confusion “Royalty baby, it’s mommy” Nia sobbed out, sliding out of the booth. Royalty stood up on the booth seat, looking around me and every diner is staring at this mess. Digging into my back pocket “yo!” waving the waiter over, Nia pushed me out of the way “daddy!” Royalty stomped crying, Nia is acting mad fucking crazy. I was about to push Nia back but I stopped myself, with many people here I didn’t want to look like the bad guy “oh my baby, look at you, oh my god. You have grown, it is mommy. I miss you so much” passing the guy a hundred bill “just get out of her face Nia, move!” Royalty seemed to be really freaked out by Nia “you’re scaring her! Get out of the way, are you fucking stupid?” Nia turned to me “you stole my daughter away from me, he stole her!” eyeballing Nia “are you fucking crazy!?” she is crazy, making my way towards Royalty but Nia physically grabbed my top “give me my daughter back!” grabbing her wrists “let go of me, you’re scaring her” she won’t let go of my top “shall I call the police?” the waiter said, I don’t even want that but she is attacking me and I can’t just throw her ass down “Nia get off him, you’re really upsetting her” her friend finally spoke but Nia hit my chest.

Nia sobbed out “let me see her, why is she looking at me like this! You have that bitch calling her mommy! You bastard” she slapped my face, my mouth fell open. Her friend yanked Nia back away from me as I stared in shock holding my face, I am so ready to flip a table but hearing Royalty cry I stopped caring “it’s ok come here” picking Royalty from the seat, Roro held my neck tightly sobbing out “you stole her! You took my daughter” mean mugging Nia “you’re a shit mother, you didn’t know how to look after her. Mad that she actually has a mother that is there for her, she actually gets love. You pushed it, this is on you. You’re unfit and crazy!” my poor baby is so distraught “you think she want to go near someone that is attacking someone she loves, you never loved this girl. You loved the money” I would throw a chair at this bitch if I could.

Nia has lost her mind, I ain’t the type to get police involved but the waiter called them and now I am stuck here “are you wanting to press charges?” the officer asked, “yes he does” my ears perked up hearing Rylee’ voice, she was quick to come “I don’t know what happened but yes” I am so annoyed, I only wanted to feed my daughter “did she slap you!?” Rylee touched my cheek “did you do this?” Rylee looked at Nia “you hit my husband, it’s ok bitch we have people here seeing what you did” I just want to go now, I am over today “you are free to go with your daughter, we will be in touch with you” the officer said, Nia has really shook Royalty acting like a clown “you fucking bitch, you hit my man” looking up at Rylee holding her wrist “I want to just get out of here please” Rylee looks so annoyed “Royalty is gripping onto your shirt, are you ok to hold her?” shit is fucked up, I will get a restraining order on her ass “yeah” getting up from the chair.

Touching my cheek looking in the rear-view mirror, Rylee gripped my chin and moved my face to the side to see “ooohhh I want to beat her ass, she fucking hit you!” sitting back in my seat “I am proud you kept calm” she said, blowing out air “I was so close to doing something stupid, she came at me sideways for nothing. I am so angry, I called you because I don’t know I just needed to tell someone” shaking my head “it’s ok, I just left the place. I wasn’t far off, what exactly happened?” I am tired, irritated and ready to punch something “I was sat eating and she went crazy seeing Royalty, but Roro got more scared with the way she was acting, Nia just looked out of it crazy. She scared Roro, the dumb bitch. I did nothing but do my thing” Rylee touched my hand “pressing charges, I don’t care you leave that shit to me. She should be happy her daughter is somewhere good! She is not a good mother and she knows it, just go home now and sleep. Has Royalty slept? If she has, then I can take her” shaking my head, I feel deflated as fuck “ok, so just get her blankie. Sleep and I will be back before you know it, I do need to go back. Everyone kept saying where is Chris, we do need to sort the manger thing out. I will speak to you about everything, call me ok? If you need me, I am always here” smiling at Rylee “you’re like superwoman, you came here fast” she really did come here so fast after I put the phone down.

Royalty is still asleep but I woke up pretty much after an hour, I don’t know. I just can’t sleep “Chris! Are you upstairs!?” hearing Rylee half shouting “yes!!” I shouted back, she is back and I am so happy “ok, I am coming up” I am glad she is coming to me, I need some loving. I am watching Rylee’ shows, I am watching The Kardashians for, I don’t know why I am watching this shit but Rylee is forever watching it “is Royalty asleep in her room?” Rylee asked, lazily looking over at Rylee “yeah, I put her in her own room” turning the volume down “ok, I am so glad to take these heels off” she dropped them to the ground “don’t mind me, I am about to take everything off” smiling at Rylee, watching her undress “what are you smiling at?” grinning at Rylee shaking my head “just waiting on you to take off your wig off next” Rylee put a finger up at me walking into the bathroom “this weave is in good, fuck you” I chuckled rubbing my face.

“I am bra free, make up free, clothes free. I am so happy!” she really went all out and took everything off, she came out in just my tee “sorry, I can’t be sexy right now. I am too tired for it” she is tired, I am more tired than she is but I won’t say that to her. Rylee climbed onto the bed, crawling over to me “I missed you so so much!” Rylee pressed a kiss to my lips and then collapsed, laying her head on my stomach “I missed you more, how was your day babe?” touching the side of Rylee’ head, pushing back her hair “tiring, it was a meeting about what to do next. Mark really wants me to do the pregnancy shoot and then baby, the new designs for Black Pyramid are so cute! The females are going to love it, shame you wasn’t there. I got invited to Milan but I declined, I don’t have the energy for it, I am more stressed about this baby and then my big baby getting hurt. Are you watching my shows?” I love her ears, they are so cute. Rubbing her earlobe between my fingers “I didn’t know what else to watch, well I said to Mark to not work you too hard so there is that. I don’t really want you to work so ignore them” she can rest up before this baby.

Rylee reached behind her, holding my hand and pulling it forward “besides the fact the bitch hit you, how was day care for Royalty?” Rylee placed my hand on her cheek “it was ok but Roro ain’t like it as much, she was only ok because I was close by. The women want us to both go on Monday to settle her in, we spent some time. I saw Lo and Bailey but we said nothing and just walked by, I forgot my music hard drives. Then that happened to me, I am a little upset that Nia has really upset Royalty like that. That bitch is crazy” Rylee got up from her position “restraining order?” Rylee said crawling up to me, resting her back against the headboard “that is what I am thinking” Rylee touched my cheek “did you send a picture to your lawyer about this? She assaulted you, I don’t care. Even though I want to hit her I won’t, evil won’t get us baby” evil always wants to get me.

Smiling at the very first selfie Rylee and I took “you remember this?” turning my phone to Rylee, she is busy watching her shows and has gone all quiet “oh wow, back when I found you annoying” grinning at Rylee “I remember when I said to you that we would look back at this moment and say it all started here and it did, look at us now. We are married, I made the best decision in my life and that is you. I could never repay how much you have changed my life, it is a shame you never came to my shows and you ended up seeing Trey Songz” Rylee groaned out “you will never forget this but I wouldn’t have been a girl you liked, I don’t know why you like me. I am just regular as fuck, you fucked Rosa” I cringed “see, you don’t like it” she remembers that “you were a dick Chris, you chased me and was having sex with her. At times you scared me, not in a bad way but you had such a bad reputation with women. But then I just slowly started seeing a different man, it was like breaking this persona, the more you started feeling love the more you exposed the better you and when people said things I was like nope, that ain’t him and it’s not. I am happy with you, I love you” taking in a deep breath “light skinned tendencies I had” I mumbled.

Placing Rylee’ tee over her bump “I have a feeling that Peanut is going to be so light skinned and bougie already, I know he finna have a big forehead, your nose because that seems to be a big trait in your family. Maybe brown eyes” Peanut is going to get the world “your ears, he will have your ears. I hope your eyes too, your freckles. You have a beautiful face” Rylee touched the side of my face “I was supposed to tell you about last night Peanut, so I went to the studio and I was going to come home but guess who came in? Diddy and Cassie, you will meet Cassie she is like so beautiful but not as beautiful as your mom but they came. I did some more songs so that means more money, I got late and then your mom wanna be stank with me and hit me to wake me up, she mad rude Peanut. I took your sister day care, she cried, she took my Grammy to the day care” looking at Rylee “did you know that?” Rylee shook her head “Peanut wants you to leave him alone because the only beautiful female here is his mom” Rylee retorted, placing my cheek against Rylee’ stomach “he tells me that you a liar” I gasped moving my face “you felt that didn’t you?” staring at the stomach all wide eyed “he touched me? Oh my god, I felt him” I feel so overwhelmed “I told you, that is him telling you to stop talking about another woman” I am so amazed “that is our son in there, oh my god. Why can’t we have him now” I want to meet him so badly.  

[notwithout-mymuse]

Fic: Giving me faith to get me through the night

Robert and Liv (because that’s the only dad!rob content we need rn amirite?) hurt/comfort. Featuring domestic fluff, bonding and general drunkenness.

My first attempt at an ED fic, so feedback would be appreciated!

Robert/Liv, Robert/Aaron

Warnings: minor injury, blood, vomiting (none overly graphic I don’t think?), alcohol, underage drinking, panic.

Title from this song (minus the pretty cringey early 2000s video)

--

Stupid. You’re stupid.

You keep walking down the street, head down, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Why did you think this was a good idea?

The guy was a creep. The party was full of weirdos.

It’s dark. The only light comes from the hazy, buzzing streetlights.

They’ll be so angry at you. They’ll want you to leave. And it’s all your own fault.

The shops you pass are all closed-up for the night. The curtains drawn in the houses.

You’ve drank too much. You feel sick. Your head is spinning. But you keep walking. Fast. Faster.

You can still hear the blaring police sirens, the blue lights flashing behind your eyes every time you blink.

It’s starting to rain. You’re cold. Didn’t you leave the house with a jacket? Probably. You’re not wearing it now. You wrap your arms around yourself. It doesn’t help.

You keep walking. You need to get home. Faster still.

Your ankle throbs. You can feel the warm stickiness of blood seeping into your shoe.

Someone shouts drunkenly somewhere further back down the street behind you. You’re not sure if they’re shouting at you or not. You don’t stop to find out. Faster.

The realisation that you don’t know where you are or where you’re going creeps up on you slowly.

There’s heavy, panting breaths. You quickly look around you. No one there. The panic is your own.

You would give anything to be tucked up in bed at home right now. Warm, unconcerned, safe.

You lost track of your bag around the same time as your jacket. It’s only when your back pocket buzzes that you remember. Your phone wasn’t in the bag.

You pull it out, but you don’t stop walking. You ignore the twitter notification. You go to your contacts. He is the first person you instinctively think of. You call him.

--

It’s past 2am when Robert finally shuts off the water and steps out of the shower to dry off. He pulls on his boxers and an old white t-shirt, and quickly towel dries his hair, eager to finally get into bed. The warm water had only done so much to ease the ache in his neck and shoulders from where he has been hunched over his laptop for hours, trying to untangle the mess that Jimmy had somehow made of the Home James accounts.

Robert knew that if Aaron was home he would have berated him for being a workaholic and dragged him to bed long before now. But Aaron is out on the lash in town with Adam, and Liv is sleeping over at Gabby’s, which left Robert with the rare and peaceful solitude of the Mill to get stuck into his work.

Robert hears his phone ringing from the bedroom, where he had left it on charge. He snorts softly and moves towards the room to answer it. Even though it was the early hours of the morning, Robert was half-expecting a call from Aaron, who had more than once drunk-dialled him from a bar or taxi during a night out, usually to say something soppy that he would then deny the next morning.

But Robert’s phone didn’t light up with it’s usual “Hubby x”. Instead it was Liv’s name that appeared, above a picture that Robert had taken of her when they were decorating the Mill, her smile full of mischief and a large streak of paint across her right cheek. He picks up on the last ring.

“Liv, what’s up? You okay?”

Liv’s answering voice is distant and shaky.

“Robert! Can you…. I’m sorry… can you come and get me?”

“Where are you, at Gabby’s house?” Robert demands quickly, worry rising. Since when does Liv ask for help?

“I’m…no I’m not at… I don’t know where I am… look please don’t be mad but I lied ok…” Liv pauses, Robert can hear her breathing heavily before she speaks again, like she’s been running.

“I didn’t really go to Gabby’s I went to a house party in Hotten with this lad from school, but it all kicked off so I left and…and now I don’t know where I am… Rob, what do I do?”.

By the time she stops speaking, Robert has already put his phone on loudspeaker and put the device down on the bed so he can grab the closest pair of jeans he owns from the wardrobe, and Aaron’s purple hoodie from the hook on the back of the door to throw on.

“You said you’re in Hotten? Where exactly?” he shouts towards his phone.

“I already said I don’t know!” Liv snaps back, indignance failing to mask her fear.

“Ok. Ok just… stay calm alright? I’m coming to look for you. Don’t hang up ok?”.

At that Robert dashes out of the room, phone in hand and down the stairs. He gets as far as the front door of the apartment before he dashes back to the kitchen table for his forgotten car keys.

As soon as he’s run through the rain, jumped in his car, and switched on the engine, all in record time, Robert places his phone in his lap so he can talk and drive. Shooting quickly out of the driveway, before he speaks.

“Liv, you still there?”

“Yeah, mmhere” she mumbles back.

“What can you see? Is there anything around you that might tell me where you are? Any road signs?”

“No… it’s just houses”

Robert runs his hand through his still damp hair, tries to quell his own rising panic. The last thing Liv needs is him losing the plot.

“Can you look it up on your phone? If you hang up for a couple of minutes, get google maps up and tell me what road you’re on. Then call me back, can you do that?”

“Erm…yeah I think so.”

“Ok. Do it. Then ring me straight back ok?”

“Yeah ok.”

Robert can’t help but sigh heavily when she hangs up. Wondering, not for the first time, how on earth he found himself co-parenting a troublesome teenage girl at 2:30 in the morning. But he also can’t deny the hard, sick feeling in his gut that he knows won’t go away until Liv is with him. Until she’s home.

Robert keeps driving towards Hotten, his foot hard on the accelerator. The rain coming down heavier now, his windscreen wipers squeaking, a chill in the air.

After what feels like an hour, but is probably no more than a couple of minutes, his phone rings, making him jump in the eerie quiet.

“Liv?”

“Yeah… um, it said I’m on Queen’s Road… I don’t know where that is but…” Liv stutters out, before Robert cuts across her.

“That’s ok, I do. Can you stay there and wait for me? Is it safe for you to wait where you are?”

“I think so. I can’t see anyone around.”

“Good, find the brightest part of the street and wait for me, I’m on my way.”

--

Liv squats down to sit on the low wall under the nearest streetlight. Her hands still shaking, wet hair plastered to her head as the rain refuses to let up, and now she’s stopped moving her ankle is hurting more. She focusses on the phone she’s holding by her ear to try and ignore the ache, listens to the sound of Robert shifting to change gear. But she can’t stop her head swivelling left and right, checking that the street is still deserted. She sees car lights in the distance, but they turn off far down the road.

“Are you gonna be long?” she can’t help but ask. She just wants to go home.

“2 minutes” Robert replies.

When he finally pulls up, Liv is so grateful to see his poncy car and dumb face, that the second he’s upright, she barrels into him and holds on to him with a death grip. The tears finally begin to fall now, mingling with the rain and falling onto Robert’s chest as she feels his hand come up to cradle the back of her head.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry!” She gasps.

“Shh shh, it’s ok, you’re ok… I’m here now”. Robert holds her close for several beats, before pulling back to get a good look at her. Eyes widening when his concerned gaze lands on her bloody foot.

“You’re hurt! Why didn’t you say so? What happened?” he demands in one breath.

“It’s fine, I just tripped, it’s not even that bad.” But before Liv has even finished speaking, Robert is pulling his – Aaron’s – hoodie off and is wrapping it around her frozen arms, before helping her round to the passenger side door.

She wants to tell him to knock it off, that she’s capable of getting into a car, that she’s not a baby. But she doesn’t.

Instead she lets him help her into the car before he doubles back round and gets in to the drivers’ seat, listens to his assurances that he’ll see to her foot once they get home, and focuses on the comforting warmth of the car that spreads through her in stark contrast to the frigid wind and rain outside. She slips her arms into the sleeves of the hoodie, even though they’re far too long for her and they drown her hands. She can’t resist pulling one sleeve up to her nose, inhaling the faint combined smell of Robert’s posh shower gel, and Aaron’s cheap body spray. She would later blame her wayward thoughts on the vodka she had drank, but in that moment Liv couldn’t help thinking that the old, ratty hoodie smells like home.

--

By the time Robert pulls up into the driveway of the Mill, Liv is fast asleep. She had stayed awake just long enough to tell him what had happened. How she had got Gabby to cover for her so she could get the bus into Hotten to meet some lad called Ben, whose older brother was throwing a house party while their parents were away. How she had regretted it when Ben spent the whole time getting smashed and leering at all the girls. How some of the older lads had got into fight with some guys who had tried to gatecrash the party, culminating in a large, drunken brawl on the front lawn and the neighbours calling the police. At which point, Liv had told him, she’d panicked and ran from the house and down the street, but not before stumbling on a loose paving stone and scraping her ankle.

She looks peaceful now, under the glow of the Mill’s porch light. Bundled up in the purple hoodie, head resting on the window, all bright pink cheeks and messy, slowly drying hair. Robert doesn’t want to wake her when she looks like this, but he knows he needs to. He might just be able to carry her into the house, but there was no way he could get her up the spiral staircase. Ignoring the voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Aaron saying “well you chose the damn thing, what’s wrong with a normal staircase?”, he reaches over to shake Liv’s shoulder gently, not wanting to scare her.

Once he’s guided a sleepy and unsteady Liv into the house, he instructs her to go up the bathroom and wait, and is surprised when she doesn’t argue. Robert stops by the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and the first aid kit from the cupboard by the sink, before following her upstairs.

He’s not surprised that as he reaches the half-open bathroom door, he hears Liv retching and enters to see her hunched over the toilet, pale and groaning. Robert crouches by her side, brushes her hair away from her face and keeps a hand between her shoulder blades until it stops. It takes a few minutes and several flushes of the toilet for her stomach to stop heaving enough that she can sit on the closed lid of the toilet and sip gingerly from the glass of water that Robert has brought her.

However, she has recovered enough that she is able to summon an eye-roll when Robert encourages her to lift her leg up into his lap, where he is perched on the edge of the bathtub, so that he can see to her foot.

“Ouch! Some nurse you’d be” Liv complains when he starts dabbing at her cut with a damp cloth to try and clean out any dirt.

“Well don’t drink so much next time, and you might find it easier to stay on your feet!” Robert retorts.

There’s no heat behind either of their comments, their eyes too understanding, but the bantering makes things feel more normal.

Thankfully once the smeared blood had been cleaned away, the cut isn’t too bad. Robert works quickly but thoroughly, adding antiseptic cream and dressing Liv’s foot.

“There! Should be fine, just keep it clean so if doesn’t get infected ok?” he tells her.

“Ok…. I’m gonna go to bed now I think” Liv says as she limps toward the door, leaving Robert to turn around and clean up.

He thinks she’s gone, so he jumps a little when she speaks again.

“Robert?” Liv says, voice small and quiet, hand still on the door handle.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for… this… everything. Look, I know I’m not your kid, so you didn’t have to turn out in the middle of the night to… you know…look after me… and stuff. Most people would have just shouted at me…” She trails off awkwardly, her tired face tinged with a blush that has nothing to do with the weather this time.

Watching the discomfort and uncertainty flit across Liv’s face makes something in Robert’s chest seize. Because he knows that feeling. The feeling that you’re too much trouble to be worth anyone’s time or effort, that you’re too much of a fuck-up and that everyone will leave you eventually. The feeling of not knowing where you belong, or who with. His heart aches with empathy.

“Liv. I meant what I said when Aaron was in prison – you deserve to be looked after properly. And besides, we’re family now, it’s what we do” Robert says softly.

“Although” he continues, less softly this time. “Don’t think this is the end of it. I’ll be telling Aaron about your little adventure, and you are so going to be grounded tomorrow!”

“Ugh!” Liv groans and rolls her eyes, but the whole sarcastic attitude is undermined by the grateful unshed tears in her eyes. Her mouth tugging up into a genuine smile, even as she turns and heads down the hall to her room to face-plant her bed.

--

It’s almost 4am by the time Robert’s cleaned up the first aid supplies and checked on a now passed out Liv. He leaves a fresh glass of water on her bedside table, tucks her duvet in around her, and makes sure that she is lying on her side with her bin nearby in case her stomach tries to rebel again. When he finally crashes into his own bed, his shoulders ache more than ever, and his eyes itch with tiredness.

Robert is seconds away from sleep, when he hears a car door slam, shortly followed by the creak of the front door and footsteps on the stairs.

Aaron.

Robert silently prays that his husband isn’t in as rough a state as his sister. One vomiting person is more than enough for one night.

“What time do ya call this then?” Robert can’t resist asking cheekily.

He can’t see Aaron in the darkness but he can tell that his husband jumps.

“Sorry, I thought you’d be asleep by now… didn’t wanna wake ya.” Thankfully he only sounds slightly tipsy.

“Ha! Chance would be a fine thing!” Robert mumbles into his pillow as he listens to Aaron strip down to his underwear, swearing as he stubs his toe on the dresser in the dark, before sliding into bed behind him.

“What’s up? Can’t sleep? I bet you were up late working again weren’t ya?” Aaron says, as he moves to wrap his arm around Robert, their legs tangling as he spoons Robert from behind.

“Long story. I’ll tell you in the morning.” Robert responds, deciding that there was no point getting Aaron worked up at 4am, now that Liv is home safe.

“Mmmkay” Aaron mumbles. Pressing a kiss to the back of Robert’s neck where his breath is gently tickling his skin. He smells vaguely of beer and kebab, but his mouth is gentle and his body is warm and comforting.

The last coherent thought Robert has is that everyone is now home, curled up safe and sound - right where they belong.

[thedramafilesblog-blog]

Appearing before The Dramacourt: While You Were Sleeping Eps 3 and 4

***If this is your first time browsing The Drama Files, please read The Rules section first for our reviewing and rating system***

***Disclaimer***: This analysis based on Canadian law. This is also NOT LEGAL ADVICE for anyone and this drama is FICTIONAL.

Issues:

Whether there is some serious meta going on in these episodes.

Whether Jae Chan’s rationale for not wanting to believe Hong Joo’s ability to see the future is logical.

Whether a defense lawyer can force a prosecutor to go with a lesser charge.

Whether there is a distinction between Injury and Assault.

Whether defense lawyers can fudge medical reports and “get rid” of evidence.

Whether this episode highlights some of the issues faced by victims of domestic violence.

Whether it is acceptable to have workplace religious practices.

The Rule(s):

Totally. And even in this version, poor Shin Jae Ha doesn’t seem to be getting the girl.

Yes. It is logical.

No. That’s not really how prosecution works.

In Canadian law, the distinction is between Battery and Assault.

No. This means you have violated your ethical and professional responsibility as a lawyer and that you should be disbarred at the very least.

Absolutely. Battered Women’s Syndrome is a very real thing.

No. Unless your workplace by definition is some religious thing.

Analysis:

RedRosette J: This episode had a lot going on and we have a lot to talk about but first thing is first: Suzy. Honey. Take an acting class. Your acting has not improved since Dream High. Seriously. I’m honestly having trouble connecting with this character. (Also, my bad, I thought this drama was about people seeing visions of future deaths, but Jubiemon corrected me. It’s about people seeing visions of the future). I don’t understand her quirky/perky obnoxious Candy vibe. I really really wanted a more nuanced character. Someone with some depth and feeling and emotion that is more than just forced fake crying. Seriously. I also don’t really feel, at this point, a connection between Lee Jong Suk and Suzy. Sorry guys. It falls flat for me. If the super obnoxious OST and the intense close ups weren’t there to shove it in my face that this was supposed to be some fated love story, I wouldn’t buy it. Sorry.

Jubiemon J: I found this episode to still be a good setup for what’s to come. However, I do have a few areas that I didn’t quite enjoy so much. I also don’t like the character type they’ve set out for Suzy. This character doesn’t suit her and she hasn’t been able to fit well with this quirky character. (This is an aside but if you want to see a quirky personality, go look at one of the clips of “I Live Alone” with Sunghoon. He’s definitely 4D in a cool way.) Aside from her, though, I also felt like Jae Chan’s younger brother looks far too old to be a high school student. (Sorry pal.) I wished that they had placed him as a university student instead.

Having trouble finding the chemistry guys

Developing crushes like…

Serious talk

Being lowkey creepy

Cool art though

Being creepy on the subway like…

RedRosette J: On other notes, Lee Sang Yeob is doing a fabulous job as a sleazeball lawyer Yoo Bom who you just have to hate. He’s so irritating to watch and makes you want to just be like ugh stop. Which is great because that’s the character. The introduction of the second female lead (the prosecutor woman) also fell a bit flat for me. I don’t know anything about the actress but there was nothing really special about her introduction.

Jubiemon J: I agree so much! Lee Sang Yeob has been great as the evil criminal defense lawyer. I get so irritated when I see him! I kind of wish that Jae Chan was less upfront about things and had more EQ, but I guess that’s part of his journey of learning to act smarter and it does make a good contrast between Yoo Bum’s and Jae Chan’s personalities.

Oh my goodness! I completely treated the 2nd female lead as a minor, minor side character. My bad.

Don’t be fooled by this face

Did nothing for the plot

Breaking up with a piece of shit guy like…

RedRosette J: I also keep loving the interactions between the two brothers  and I’m curious to see how Jae Chan and Hong Joo stop Seung Won’s (yes, that is Shin Jae Ha’s character’s name. I knew there had to be reason why we weren’t told his name thus far!) impending fact. I am also curious to see how fate ties up loose ends in terms of the policeman who didn’t die (It’s all very Final Destination-ish). The side characters in the office are really awesome and I really really hope they don’t under utilize these actors who have so much potential for comedy.

When you really don’t want to wake up for work

Breakfast with the fam

When your sketch neighbour tries to be BFFs

You’re cute too. Who are you?

Sassing your boss like…

Spreading office gossip like…

Hearing office gossip like…

RedRosette J: I continue to really really like the plot though and the way it is written. I like that the writers don’t infantilize the viewers and keep the information going consistently. I really liked that Hong Joo’s past warnings to her dad and her backstory was being shown concurrently with the events of the present and Jae Chan’s future visions. It means that your brain is actively working while watching trying to figure out how the pieces fit. It’s been awhile since a drama has been able to do that for me, so I really appreciate that. One thing I’m not too excited about is the childhood trope. Really? You had to use the classic “they met when they were kids at a funeral home” trope to derive the future dream connection? Ehhh….I hope the writers sell me on a stellar reason for why they did this or I’m going to be super disappointed.

Jubiemon J: I did like the flashbacks mixed with Jae Chan’s dreams too. That was an interesting approach. I totally agree about that . . . fated to meet someone since childhood . . . Overused. Honestly I haven’t heard of any stories in my life where someone realized that he or she met his/her partner a long, long time ago. The most would be something like . . . oh they have some random mutual friend.

Issue 1: Whether there is some serious meta going on in these episodes

RedRosette J: I have two words for you guys: Page Turner. OMG. Kim So Hyun as an angry pianist and Shin Jae Ha with a closeted crush on her? Really guys? You’re going to do this to us again? Last time, Ji Soo got the girl, this time, I think external forces (and the fact that Kim So Hyun is only doing this as a special appearance) is going to keep poor Shin Jae Ha from getting the girl. I’m so not cool with this. He’s such a cutie patootie. Like total puppy vibes. Please let him have the girl. But real talk: this story line, although we could do with less of Kim So Hyun yelling at poor Shin Jae Ha because well, see above sentence. But either way, the meta was real folks.

Jubiemon J: I’m honestly tired of the angsty kid. Sure, I understand that you’re super frustrated about your family’s situation, but do you have to push away the nicest guy ever? Kim So Hyun’s character was just super rude here . . . It reminded me of Mean Girls. Twisted Regina George vibes with some crazy fam stuff going on.

RedRosette J Aside: For those of you who haven’t seen Page Turner, go watch it right now. Its three episodes of cuteness that you won’t regret. 

I still doubt he gets her

Issue 2: Whether Jae Chan’s rationale for not wanting to believe Hong Joo’s ability to see the future is logical

RedRosette J: I think what Jae Chan was saying to Hong Joo was totally rational and totally logical. Jae Chan says he doesn’t want to believe her even if it’s true because that means he will have to save everyone and when he cant he will be super torn up about it and he doesn’t think that he can handle it. I think it is totally reasonable to refuse to take on a responsibility that you are sure that you can’t handle. I think it’s irresponsible to take on something and then fall apart when you can’t do it. So yes, I agree with his line of reasoning. Whether this works out in practice and reality is a different story.

Jubiemon J: I actually felt kind of annoyed that he was being a hypocrite. He did save her . . . so why wouldn’t he believe in her ability to see the future? I felt like his reasoning was poor because he just didn’t have the guts to face the guilt or the courage to try to change anything. However, he did have the guts to save Hong Joo so . . . what is this sudden turn of events? I didn’t like it. I’m in the camp of . . . if you’re being given responsibility, you just take it and do it. It’s just like at work. You still have to do the stuff you’re assigned even if you don’t like the work. I also see this as a scenario of a doctor. If the patient comes to see you with some illness, you don’t just ignore and turn them away. You try to find a cure even if you know it might be futile.

Trying to rationalize things

When you’re irrational and you know it

Poor Seung Won!

Issue 3: Whether a defense lawyer can force a prosecutor to go with a lesser charge

RedRosette J:  Uhhhh no…..that’s not really how it works. A defense lawyer can’t just walk into the prosecutor’s office and be like “oh yea btw, these are medical records which show assault, so go with an assault charge….” No. The prosecution works independent of the defense lawyers. The only time they are in contact with each other is during pre-trial conferences and to request disclosure (the documents that the prosecution has against the person being charged). It is a gross miscarriage of justice if the defense gets to walk in and make demands about what charges to lay on a suspect. That’s not how the law works and I’m pretty sure that regardless of whether it’s Canada or anywhere else, that’s how it’s supposed to work. Of course, reality could be very different when you taking into consideration things like corruption and bribery etc.

Nope. Not how it works.

Issue 4:  Whether there is a distinction between Injury and Assault

RedRosette J: In Canada, there is a distinction between something called Battery and Assault. Assault generally deals with the threat of force and the person looking to act on it. Battery is when the victim actually sustains physical injuries from said violent threat. I think what might have happened here is that it probably got lost in translation and when they said “Injury” it probably translates to Battery or the equivalent of that. Kim So Hyun’s character raises an interesting point, where she says that in the case of assault,  charges are laid only if the victim agrees to press said charges. This would explain why Yoo Bom was trying to get the lesser assault charge which would mean that they could coerce the victim into not pressing charges. But generally, there is a distinction and there weren’t wrong in clarifying that.

Jubiemon J: What Redrosette said is in regards to the area of torts. In Canada, battery falls under the area of torts, which is civil law. If that were the case, then prosecutors would not be involved. It’d be the mom vs the dad and damages could be awarded. Also, battery is easier to fulfil than you would think–just has to be intentional, harmful/offensive, direct, force/contact of a person/body/purse of another. I remember our professor saying that even if you touch someone’s shoulder, that could potentially be battery.

Canada’s Criminal Code doesn’t list battery as a crime. Instead, the Code has an offense of assault and assault causing bodily harm. Canada’s Criminal Code lists here what assault would be:

265(1) A person commits an assault when

(a) without the consent of another person, he applies force intentionally to that other person, directly or indirectly;

(b) he attempts or threatens, by an act or a gesture, to apply force to another person, if he has, or causes that other person to believe on reasonable grounds that he has, present ability to effect his purpose; or

(c) while openly wearing or carrying a weapon or an imitation thereof, he accosts or impedes another person or begs.

Different countries characterize their charges differently, so in the US, there is criminal battery. I did a quick look at the South Korean Penal Code and I think this would be one of the potential charges that the dad could face.

CHAPTER XXV CRIMES OF INFLICTING BODILY INJURY AND VIOLENCE

Article 257 (Inflicting Bodily Injury on Other or on Lineal Ascendant) (1) A person who inflicts a bodily injury upon another shall be punished by imprisonment for not more than seven years or suspension of qualifications for not more than ten years or by a fine not exceeding ten million won. (2) When the crime as referred in paragraph (1) is committed on a lineal ascendant of the offender or of his spouse, one shall be punished by imprisonment for not more than ten years or a fine not exceeding fifteen million won. (3) Attempts to commit the crimes of the preceding two paragraphs shall be punished.

Pretty sure this is Battery at this point

Issue 5: Whether defense lawyers can fudge medical reports and “get rid” of evidence.

RedRosette J: Uhhh…..MOST DEFINITELY NOT. That is not a defense lawyer’s job. You don’t “clean up your client’s messes” in that way. This would be a blatant violation of the rules of professional conduct and the ethics of being a lawyer. It could effectively mean being disbarred and even prosecution and jail time. Defense lawyers exist to ensure that everyone has access to the law and to make sure that accused persons are given a fair right to be heard having access to all the information and rules pertaining to their case. This is a far cry from a defense lawyer who goes and commits more crimes to get their client out of jail. WTF. No.

Jubiemon J: No! He also used to be a prosecutor too and from Jae Chan’s comments, he was already acting dirty back then. I remember glancing at the Penal Code for South Korea and there was a section for charges against corrupt public officials, so . . .

You could be disbarred bro

Issue 6: Whether this episode highlights some of the issues faced by victims of domestic violence

RedRosette J: I think we discussed this in a previous review too, but yes, this episode highlights some crucial things about victims of domestic violence. It is usually categorized as Battered Women’s Syndrome where the women are too afraid of the abuse to leave or stand up to the abuser. It’s a form of physical and psychological abuse. Kim So Hyun’s character says that her mother is more afraid of her dad than the law when the scene shows the mother agreeing to drop the charges against the husband. I think it’s important to realize that domestic violence is a very real and live issue and that it’s a good thing that dramas highlight these things.

Fear is a very real thing

Issue 7: Whether it is acceptable to have workplace religious practices

RedRosette J: Generally, workplaces should be secular so as not to alienate or exclude co-workers. I’m not really a proponent of religion in the workplace or anywhere involving communal stuff because I think that religion is deeply personal and should be observed in your own time. However, it makes a difference, if your workplace be definition is a religious place or organization or community. If everyone has the ability to participate that is fine, in my view. In this case, Jae Chan, not having a religion, was isolated from his co-workers who were praying at lunch. If one does have a religious requirement that has to be carried out in a communal place, it should then be done with respect to those who don’t and not in such blatantly alienating ways. So, in general, I don’t think that workplaces should have religious practices.

Jubiemon J: I also don’t think workplaces should force people to have religious practices, but I do remember that in South Korea, many citizens are Christians. Then again, I doubt that’d mean that religious practices would be obligatory at work. Somehow I’m reminded of that Canadian case regarding a Charter right and how there was some praying that would always happen before this meeting and there was a Charter violation (I think–putting that there b/c the Charter is definitely one of my weaker areas in law…).

Not cool.

Conclusion: Appeal Allowed.

Rating: 3 = MM. Okay. Fine. (Suzy please get some acting tips and step up your game girl)

File No: While-You-Were-Sleeping-EPS-3&4 Appearing before The Dramacourt: While You Were Sleeping Eps 3 and 4 ***If this is your first time browsing The Drama Files, please read 

[floraexplorer]

Waiting For Grief

I’m sleeping on a sofa bed.

This has been my life for two months now: since June, apart from brief escapes to Scotland, Italy, and the east of London.

I’ve relocated to the front room of my dad’s house. I’ve unfolded a dust-covered mattress from the confines of green sofa cushions, pulled it out, covered the thin striped material with a mattress topper bought off my ex-flatmate, and tried my best to make it feel like home.

This sofa bed is not exactly comfortable, either. I’m pretty sure it sits at a slant: I wake up multiple times each night with the uneasy sensation that my feet are higher than my head. I dream that I’m falling backwards.

Of course, my erratic sleeping might be to do with drinking too much coffee. It could also be due to the roll-ups I’ve taken to smoking covertly in the garden while sitting on a broken wooden bench under the night sky.

I use the time to stare up at stars, at slow moving planes, at sickly yellow clouds. Sometimes there are invisible foxes mewling in the bushes. One night a group of neighbours sang ‘Happy Birthday’ from far away.

There’s another explanation for my lack of sleep. It’s why I’m on the sofa bed in the first place.

My dad is dying. 

Watching the people you love get sick is an awful experience. What’s worse is knowing they won’t get better – and it’s so frustrating and painful to hear responses from those who just don’t get it.

“I hope he’s on the mend soon!”

“We’re sending lots of get well wishes!”

Nope. He’s dying. My dad is definitely, diagnosably, dying.

I have to say this to myself because I need to time to adjust to the idea. I have to prepare myself as much as possible for what’s inevitable – and yet I can’t directly say it out loud, because it’s horrible and unexpected and so hilariously awkward. It cuts a conversation clean in two. People who actually take on the responsibility of discussing such a bombshell are fantastic – but even they eventually have to talk about something else.

Then again, those conversations aren’t exactly common because I don’t go out much now. I can’t. He needs me in the house.

Just two months ago, my dad was living by himself.

He could drive his car, go to the corner shop for a paper, move around his house. All of these things took time, effort and careful pacing, but it was all still possible.

Now he’s basically bed-bound. After eight weeks of watching his breathing get increasingly worse due to acute lung fibrosis, I’ve realised he now needs everything he uses during the day to be close to hand, just a few steps away from his bed.

He’s been ill for two years – seriously ill since this March – and my perception of time has become strangely fluid.

This isn’t permanent. It can’t be. My life exists in another place – albeit one I’ve stepped unwillingly away from at the moment. My normal, real, loved life is travel and spontaneity, friends and photography, chaos and movement and excitement and challenges. Challenges I want to embark upon, not those which have been thrust on top of me with such force that I feel like my back might break.

Learning my ‘new normal’

Inside my dad’s house, the days blur into each other. Hours are the only unit of time I measure now: awake at 9am, a snatched period of semi-relaxation for coffee, music, typing, until Dad’s carer opens the front door at 11am and I know I need to shoulder my responsibilities.

This situation and the horrors which accompany it are things I never thought I’d have to handle at 29 years old. It seems like such a cruel injustice to carry them without a second parent or a sibling to help me through.

Still. I sit and chat to him, hold his hand, do the household tasks and errands he only trusts me to do. I fetch and carry, change sheets, wash clothes: I do normal day-to-day housework on autopilot, trying my best to forget why I’m doing it. Trying to forget that he’ll never do these things again.

The carer visits again at lunchtime and comes for a final visit in the early evening. She cooks a frozen meal in the microwave as it’s the easiest thing for him to eat, makes him cups of tea, and provides us both with a much-needed distraction of another person to talk to.

When people ask me what is so difficult about all this, I can’t always pinpoint specifics. But I know the toll it’s taking. I clock-watch obsessively: not wanting to leave him alone upstairs for too long, but knowing that spending too much time with him zaps all of my energy. Watching his laboured breathing makes me scream inside. I recognise how sluggish my thoughts are, and how hard I find it to speak.

I don’t feel the caffeine buzz my body like I used to. I wake up exhausted. I move around the house all day like a ghostly shadow of myself. I say goodnight to him at 9pm and fall asleep on an uncomfortable sofa bed by midnight.

Some unexpected side effects

The very worst part for me in all this – selfishly, perhaps – is that I have no time for writing.

Before my dad got too sick, I was mid-blog-overhaul: working on resource articles and affiliate partnerships, really knuckling down to the act of making this passion of mine into something more professional. I was overwhelmed with ideas for my book manuscript too, and felt the sudden excitement of knowing just how I could make it great.

Now I’m terrified to write. The emotions which pour out of me when crafting every article are perhaps too much right now, and I also need careful, distraction-free alone time to work the way I want to.

I’m also terrified of losing my ability to write.

Before my mum died nine years ago I wrote poetry: reams of the stuff, couplets forming in my mind before I had time to jot them down. I adored the structure and the puzzle of poems so much that it was a complete shock to discover that my desire to write them vanished after her death. It took me a long time to fall back into writing anything at all, and poems were a victim of the fallout. I haven’t really written poetry since.

So this is why I’m writing here. I know it’s not about travel – sorry – but it’s necessary. It’s vital. It rises high above any of the vapid, internet-related bullshit of SEO and traffic: this is life and death, family and home, loss and grief, in all their purest forms. I’m losing my dad, after already losing my mum, and I feel so achingly lonely and suffocated and unable to cope.

What do you do with grief? 

In moments of immense difficulty; in moments where your life is unrecognisable in the worst of ways; you simply have to draw strength from wherever you feel able.

At some point each day, I suddenly remember the world beyond the house and I step out into the light. There are lime green front doors and rows of potted plants on windowsills. Someone’s dug up a fresh haul of onions from a tiny vegetable patch in their front garden, the bulbs resting on an open tea towel laid out on the ground. I peek through a window to see a girl lovingly stroking a black cat.

I don’t know why things are the way they are. All these lives, connected by proximity and geography but strangers to me.

If there’s one thing the last nine years have taught me – between my mum’s sudden death and my dad’s impending one – it’s that I am a writer. So if writing about this process can help me through in any way possible, then I’ll do it in a heartbeat. And if sharing how I feel can help anyone else through their own journey of grief then I’ll do that too.

If I can’t travel abroad, what I can do is walk the streets around my dad’s house, and wander through the one park and two graveyards which sit close by. I can still take photos of the moments which move me. Search always for the little glimpses of light which serve as a reminder that things like this can happen; will always happen; must happen, sadly enough.

Death is a truth I’ve always known, and one I have to shoulder once again. As so many others do.

I sit in the cemetery beside my mum’s grave, on a slanted wooden bench placed for someone’s granddad. I don’t know who, but it’s been here ever since Mum’s funeral. Nine years. At once a lifetime and what feels like one drawn out breath.

I’m not doing this alone, however much it may feel like it.

I’m sleeping in my dad’s living room while he dies in the room above me. The buses move past on the street outside; people talk loudly on the pavement and leave empty bottles in our yellow rose bush. The world still moves, and so do I.

Writing it down gives me clarity. Sharing it gives me strength. Hopefully that’s enough.

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[captivesrp]

Ffrewgí wakes up heavy with sleep and an absence that grows as he and Archora stir and leave the tent, heading to their now familiar groups and team leaders. Ffrewgí passes Anwen on his way to Asgell and Murchadh and the emptiness swells suddenly to his mouth; he walks silently passed her and stands with his head bowed beside Murchadh until Wyddryr appears.

The guides set off into the woods. Asgell leads them to an area of especially tangled, overgrown underbrush: thorny tendrils strangling tree trunks halfway up their lengths, drooping leaves as large as cloaks, and giant knots of vines piled higher than Asgell’s head.

“There’s an old above-ground rabbit warren in here,” Asgell says. “Your task today is to, as a group, map it.” She hands out three tablets of smooth, white wood and a bundle of writing charcoal bound in twine. “You can split up and combine your sketches at the end or work together from the start. You have as long as you need.”

Ffrewgí cannot help it: his first instinct is to look to Murchadh for direction. Before the green-eyed boy can speak, Ffrewgí reaches inside himself and, resolving to see the day’s activity as a fascinating experience, says, “I think we should work together on the same chart. That way each of us can employ his best skills and not have to, maybe,” he falters, “you know---I mean---I can draw pretty well but my sense of direction and scale is not that good.”

Murchadh gives Ffrewgí a proud smile.

“I’m the smallest,” says Wyddryr. “I can be the explorer.” He grins, but there is a grim light in his large eyes.

“And I can point you towards the entrances and exits,” says Murchadh, “and translate your travels for Ffrewgí to draw.” He lifts his withered arm. “I’m not much of an artist or a crawler.”

“That’s okay!” says Ffrewgí. “We don’t need you to be. Together, we are a perfect team.”

As it turns out, they really are. The warren is enormous---Ffrewgí has to restart his map on an empty tablet more than once to draw in a consistent scale---but despite its size the three guides have finished mapping it by late afternoon.

As Wyddryr crawls out of the final exit, covered in dirt and scratches---“Can’t even feel ’em,” he had said when Ffrewgí had expressed concern after his first trip through a passageway---and Ffrewgí draws his final line, Asgell stands up from the tree where she had been oiling a leather breastplate and comes to look over Ffrewgí’s shoulder.

“I’m impressed,” she says. “To be honest, I’ve no way of knowing how accurate this is except through my confidence in your process and in each of your individual skills.” She laughs at Ffrewgí’s stunned expression. “Wyddryr hardly fit!” she says, smiling. “I’ve certainly never crawled in there.”

Somehow, that does not diminish Ffrewgí’s feeling of proud accomplishment. Her compliments glow on, undeterred, inside him. He looks over at his companions and grins, when suddenly, out of nowhere, a flash of dizziness washes over him and he drops his charcoal.

Asgell’s hand is firm on his shoulder as he tries to shake the fuzz away. “I don’t---” he starts, then his consciousness is retreating into darkness, following a faint feeling of nausea.

Voices are the first things he recognizes as his mind awakes: indecipherable sounds in the swimming grey. He is sleepy, comfortable. Then, words, his name: “Ffrewgí? Ffrewgí!” It is Asgell. She comes into focus above him. Wyddryr is behind her. A wave of foul weakness cascades over Ffrewgí’s body as he comes fully conscious. He groans and curls up tighter, dirt pressing against his cheek.

“If they want us to succeed you would think they would feed us properly,” comes Murchadh’s muttered voice. There is an unmistakable hint of accusation in his words. 

A presence appears suddenly before Ffrewgí’s tightly shut eyes.

“Drink,” says Murchadh.

Ffrewgí forces his head to turn so Murchadh can pour warm water through his lips.

“Suck on these. Swallow when you can.”

Murchadh’s fingers push tart berries into Ffrewgí’s mouth. Ffrewgí winces as the sourness hits him, but the taste turns sweet in moments and with the change in flavour comes a diminishing of his nausea, then growing strength. He swallows and opens his eyes. Cold sweat is slick on his forehead; he wipes it and sits up. “Thank you.” He nods to Murchadh, his eyelids drooping heavily.

“How are you feeling?” asks Asgell.

Ffrewgí is about to answer when thunder fills the world.

“Let’s get some food in you.” Asgell crouches and offers Ffrewgí a hand up, which he takes. Asgell turns her face to the sky. “And see if we can’t avoid most of this storm.”

The moisture in the air is electric as the group collects the tablets and charcoal and sets off back to the village. Before the rabbit warren is out of view, the storm hits. Lightning and thunder dominates the sky, setting the tangled canopy trembling in silhouette and violent white. Then rain crashes down and their heads bow under it.

The walk back seems three times as long as the morning’s walk out. They are soaked through by the time they spill out of the woods and see the village ahead, illuminated suddenly by a crack of lightning.

Other captives are already sitting in the central clearing with damp food in their laps when the guides arrive. What is left on the table is crumbled and waterlogged. Asgell makes sure Ffrewgí gets an extra portion, and he notices that she gives Murchadh and Wyddryr extra, too. They eat together, battered by rain and silenced by the noise of the storm, then walk together to their tents.

“Goodnight,” says Ffrewgí as Murchadh and Wyddryr move to their beds. He clambers into his own tent and waits for Archora. 

At first, the storm keeps him awake. Then, he surmises, the time of day: hardly evening. Then a growing anticipatory feeling of doom---of something gone wrong.

Archora has not returned as the storm fades. Rain plays softly on the canvas of their tent. Ffrewgí lays awake, jumpy and afraid. His pants are uncomfortably wet and sticking to his legs. He turns over, shifting his wrist to lay under his ear and support his head. A clapping noise causes him to start, and he sits up before realizing it was just a peer moving against the canvas of a neighbouring tent.

“Where are you?” whispers Ffrewgí. The sense of wrong sits on his heart. He crawls awkwardly from the tent. Warm rain patters on his back, then his head as he stands. Not quite sure of his intentions, he takes a few steps over to a nearby tent. “Excuse me?” he asks, his voice at once terribly loud and quiet in the middle of the falling rain. He crouches down by the tent’s entrance. “Excuse me?”

A mass of black hair precedes the head and face of a little brown-eyed girl. “Hello?” she says, confused.

“I’m---I’m Ffrewgí. Um, have you seen Archora---my tent-mate?”

“I’m not sure---” starts the girl. 

A muffled voice from inside the tent cuts her off. “Heulwen, who are you talking to?”

Heulwen’s head disappears back through the tent flap. “A boy---one of us. Ffrewgí, I think he said.”

“Asking about Archora?” asks the other voice.

“Yeah. One of your teammates, right?”

A new head appears through the flap. Damp, dark orange hair frames a pale face. “You’re her tent-mate?”

Ffrewgí nods. “She . . . she hasn’t returned, and I think everyone is back, and . . .” He trails off, not sure where his thoughts are going and not ready to find out.

The girl looks at him compassionately. “She’s gone, Ffrewgí. Had she said anything to you?”

Lead settles in Ffrewgí’s stomach. “A few days ago . . .” he says quietly. He looks down at the dirt. “You trained with her!” His voice is suddenly excited. “You know what she can do. She’ll make it, right?”

The girl holds his eyes too long before answering. “Yeah. She’ll make it.”

Ffrewgí is weary and scared. “Thanks. For letting me know.”

“She’ll make it,” the girl says again.

“Goodnight,” says Ffrewgí, turning away and plodding back to his tent, numb to the rain. His tent is empty when he returns. He lies on his back, tight against one side, and stares unseeing at the dark canvas.

*     *     *

Ffrewgí wakes up alone, curled into a ball. He aches with more than just the usual bruises, scrapes, and muscle pain. He rolls onto his hands and knees and pushes through the tent flap. Warm rain and grey skies greet him as he stands and plods over to the guides’ meeting place. Before he makes it to Asgell, a boy steps in front of him---one of the hunters, Ffrewgí recognizes.

“She wanted to say goodbye,” the boy says.

Ffrewgí is frozen in place.

“That’s . . . that’s all.” The boy moves away, leaving Ffrewgí alone in the rain.

Eventually, he stirs himself and staggers over to Asgell. Wyddryr appears at his side and they walk the final few paces together.

“I appreciate your loyalty,” says Asgell as they arrive, smiling at them, “but you’re not with me today.”

Ffrewgí and Wyddryr look at each other, confused.

“All you recruits need a bit of knowledge about every discipline,” explains Asgell. She nods over to a large, dirty brigand with a bow over his shoulder. “You’re with Draeg today, learning about the art of the hunt.”

Ffrewgí recognizes Draeg. He had seen Archora standing with him on previous days. His ache at her disappearance redoubles and his vision blurs with tears.

“Come on,” says Wyddryr. 

Ffrewgí blinks and follows him as he moves over to Draeg. Murchadh is standing nearby talking with another brigand.

“Morning, kids,” growls the hunter as they approach. “You’re all mine today.”

The art of the hunt, considers Ffrewgí, his mind drifting back to his old shame. Apathy overwhelms the flicker of melancholy the thought brings, followed by the ache of regret and worry for Archora. He follows his group woodenly, hearing Draeg speak but not listening for words. The other brigand brings up the rear.

“Ffrewgí, I think we’ll be learning archery at some point today.” Murchadh slows to fall into step with Ffrewgí. “I won’t be able to hold a regular bow properly with my arm---do you think we can work together to figure something out---some sort of arm brace?” He explains his idea further when Ffrewgí is slow to respond.

Ffrewgí musters himself. A project. He can choose to focus on this instead of on Archora---regret dartles through his throat at the thought; he swallows it down and makes his choice. “Yeah---sorry for being slow, Murchadh---my, um, Ar---” He gathers himself. “I’d love to help out. I will make some observations and start thinking of ideas whenever we practice archery today.”

Murchadh’s green eyes gleam. “Great!”

*     *     *

The group only gets to archery in the afternoon, as the rain slowly turns to a fine mist, after spending most of the morning learning how to prepare animal carcasses---Ffrewgí still feels the blood on his hands and guts between his fingers---and the prime of the day being instructed in the basics of the hunting spear.

As he had known, Ffrewgí is not gifted in any of the aspects of this discipline. His tiny deer had lost a great deal of flesh with its skin, his spear-work was clumsy, and his arrows---

“You’ll have to run to fetch those back, brasterog boy, or the day will be over before you return.” Draeg laughs loudly as his own joke as Ffrewgí blushes deeply and jogs down the field after his wild shots.

Fortunately for Ffrewgí, though he feels guilty for thinking it, his peers are not much better, and Draeg and the other brigand quickly call it a day. Ffrewgí and Murchadh had been able to take a few brief moments during the session to explore their idea, and they discuss how to move forward after dinner, when they are without escort and heading towards their tents.

“I just don’t know if we’ll be allowed to work on it,” says Ffrewgí. “Your tent-mate and I spent an evening working on . . . nothing, really, and we were told it looked like we were making trouble.”

Murchadh nods thoughtfully. “Right. I will bring the idea before Asgell in the morning and see if she will let us work on it during training, for just a little while each day. She can keep the materials with her so we won’t have access to it unsupervised. I think that should be safe enough---I mean, why try to teach us archery if I am not able to shoot a bow?” He scoffs under his breath. “Not like I’ll be much of a threat even with the brace.”  

Ffrewgí smiles sympathetically at the comment, then turns away as they approach his tent, where he curls up and falls asleep, alone but for an aching memory.

*     *     *

Thanks to what Ffrewgí expects was more Murchadh’s social tenacity than simple fortune, though there must have been a dose of that, Asgell gives Murchadh and Ffrewgí permission to work on the archery brace during transitions between day training and star-charting sessions with Fuldryn, whenever they come around.

Fortune continuing to favour them, they start that night---the fog of the day turning to a clear, humid heat as evening started to fall. Ffrewgí manages to arrange and weave together a basic working concept, but does not have the time to work on how to attach it to Murchadh before Fuldryn arrives in the field to begin their nightly session.

Three days later they get another chance after a day of training under another discipline leader, a stern woman named Arial. The format of the day had been relatively familiar---a hike through the woods---but this time, instead of being told of then tested on pathfinding and tracking, Ffrewgí, Murchadh, and Wyddryr learn about plant identification and habitat. In the evening, before Fuldryn arrives in the field, Murchadh and Ffrewgí manage to rig the brace to sit upon Murchadh’s shoulder and arm. Unable to progress further without a bow to test with, they hand the contraption to Asgell and try to nap before night training.

Four days later, they have their chance to test it---and Ffrewgí is disheartened as the device fails to work properly.

“It’s too stiff,” he mutters to himself, fiddling with the reed-woven pocket that sits on Murchadh’s shoulder. “Too stiff but too loose!” he cries as it slips from his hands and the whole brace keels over.

Draeg laughs behind them.

“It’s okay,” says Murchadh quietly. “We’ll figure it out on our own time. It’s okay.”

Ffrewgí reluctantly lets the other boy detach his hands from the brace. 

Murchadh struggles to pull his withered arm through the weaves to take the device off but cannot maneuver his elbow past a particularly tough knot. “It’s not coming off,” he says.

“You’ve got three arms now!” laughs Draeg, pointing at the wooden structure dangling from Murchadh’s arm. “Too bad two of them are useless!”

“We’re gonna have to cut it,” says Murchadh, ignoring their trainer. 

Ffrewgí is terribly embarrassed, burning with hot shame despite the cool, damp air.

“It’s okay, Ffrewgí,” stresses Murchadh, watching Ffrewgí intently. “We will figure this out.” He smiles. “At least Wyddryr seems to be doing better.” He gestures with a nod to the stuffed target a stone’s-throw away, where Wyddryr’s two arrows droop from inside the painted circle.

The distraction does not stop Ffrewgí’s descent into overwhelming shame, and he is barely present enough to watch as the other hunting trainer cuts Murchadh free from the failed brace.

Luckily, archery marks the end of the training day, and before long Ffrewgí is swallowing his feelings with slimy chicken and waterlogged cornbread. After that, empty and sad, he walks alone to his tent, where his concern for Archora meets him like a faithful hound.

*     *     *

Ffrewgí is weary and worn. His eyes, dulled from worry and work, sit watery above shadows just a little darker than they should be. His hair is matted and clumped with dirt, his skin sallow, his feet browned with dirt and dried blood.

He has been a captive for weeks. Endless days of hiking in the woods; long, ever more sleepless nights on hard ground; and an unpleasant diet have beaten him down. Even Murchadh’s presence during the days, constantly positive and hopeful, has only kept him clinging to the right side of despair. Every night, his fingers loosen, every day, Murchadh encourages him to hold on.

“We’ll know what they intend soon,” he says, “then we can start to plan against them.”

They have finished another day of guide training. Despite his exhaustion, body and spirit, Ffrewgí can recognize that he has learned, and has learned a lot. Today, they tracked each other: Murchadh disappeared into the woods, Ffrewgí waited a movement of the sun, then pursued him. After another movement or two, Wyddryr had in theory two sets of tracks to follow, though both Murchadh and Ffrewgí had done their bests to travel discreetly and cover their tracks.

Ffrewgí had lost Murchadh’s trail only once, and then for a short time---he had picked up the trail a distance down a stream: Murchadh had doubled back along the water, pulling a double bluff. That Murchadh had lived in the woods, that he survived because of these skills, was not lost on Ffrewgí as he came upon the boy hidden in an overgrown dell. Pride, however---even shame---is a feeling beyond his energy to feel.

Asgell stops them from plodding to their tents after dinner. “The evening has cleared,” she says. “Fuldryn---and your archery brace---” she looks at Ffrewgí and Murchadh---“will be waiting in the field for you.”

The boys turn to head to the field for another night of navigation-by-the-stars. Despite this more intellectual pursuit being objectively Ffrewgí’s favourite avenue of training, he cannot help but mutter, “Surely we’ve studied all the important stars by now,” as they pass through the last few tents and start onto the little path that leads to the brigands’ pastureland.

Fuldryn is not in the field when they arrive, but the brace is slung over a fencepost. Murchadh picks it up and turns to Ffrewgí. “Hey, Ffrewgí.” He steps close and holds Ffrewgí’s gaze with deep eyes. “Archora will be alright. She has a strong will and a good head on her shoulders . . . it would take more than a little forest to take her down. And,” he says, ducking to catch Ffrewgí’s gaze as it drops, “the brigands have obviously not caught her. She has skill.”

His face is genuine and his look unflinching, but Ffrewgí still finds it hard to believe him. He feels a sob rise in his throat, so he avoids speech and just nods, reaching out to take the brace from where it is slung over Murchadh’s shoulder.

“We’ll definitely figure this out tonight,” says Murchadh. “It’s just the knots that---”

“Murchadh!” Asgell’s voice interrupts him from a distance away. “Did you plan this?”

“No, I didn’t,” responds Murchadh, leaving the fence and walking over to their task leader. “What is she doing here?”

Their voices fade from Ffrewgí’s awareness as he looks down at the archery brace, trying to build the resolve to figure it out.

“Mind if I help out?”

Ffrewgí looks up.

“I hear it’s a knot problem. I am good with rope, maybe I can help.” 

Anwen gently takes the brace from Ffrewgí’s unresisting hands. He is suddenly aware of a tiny flicker of warmth---hope---in his gut.

“I think I can see what your problem is . . .”

Ffrewgí follows her as she walks a few paces deeper into the pastureland. She sits down, fiddling with the brace, and Ffrewgí sits next to her. “Of course!” he says abruptly, watching her shift an end of a lash to a different place on the wooden shaft. “That will stop it from shifting so much!”

Anwen smiles up at him and suddenly he feels how warm the evening is, notices how bright green the long grass is. He only remembers that he is there to study the stars when it is---as if night fell in a moment---too dark to see Anwen’s fine knot-work as she puts in a final lash.

“Ffrewgí, Anwen!” Fuldryn waves them over. Asgell and Murchadh are already sitting with them.

Surprised to find himself coming out of his almost unconscious reverie of pleasant crafting with his drive intact, Ffrewgí hustles over to the group, ready to learn.

The night passes pleasantly. Anwen brings a fresh energy and perspective to the guides and even inspires Ffrewgí to ask a few questions of Fuldryn throughout the lesson.

Ffrewgí is exhausted by night’s end, but full of interesting facts and motivation to be more focused on being positive. His situation will not change with his attitude, so he resolves to make the best of it---like Murchadh and Anwen.

His sleep, when the guides and Anwen are escorted back to the village, is short, but, for the first time in a long time, deep and dreamless.

*     *     *

He is not rested, but Ffrewgí wakes up feeling leftover resolve from last night--- though it is tempered with exhaustion and a quiet, familiar ache---when he is roused for the day by loud voices.

“We’re training with Draeg again today!” says Murchadh brightly, poking his face into Ffrewgí’s tent. “We’ll get to try out the brace!”

Ffrewgí rubs his eyes and crawls out after his friend.

When Wyddryr joins them by the glowering Draeg, they set off towards the slaughtering field. Murchadh’s excitement is contagious and, by way of grins and bright eyes, he passes it on to Ffrewgí and keeps him positive through the guts and blood that saturate the morning and then through a few movements of spear practice.

By the time Draeg pulls the three bows, six arrows, and the completed brace from the box by the archery range, Murchadh is practically bouncing with eagerness. He snatches the brace from the box and rushes over to Ffrewgí, who lashes it on.

“Ready to give it a shot?” asks Wyddryr dryly from by the box, holding up a bow and arrow.

Before he realizes it is because the wordplay has reminded him of Archora, Ffrewgí’s heart aches sharply and he stands still as Murchadh limps quickly away to take up the bow in Wyddryr’s hand. Ffrewgí looks up, his eyes falling softly on the forest to the south. “Gods be with you, Archora,” he whispers.

“It works!” 

Murchadh’s jubilant cry draws his attention, and Ffrewgí smiles. Wherever she is, Archora is doing her best. Ffrewgí walks over to pick up a bow and arrows, joins Murchadh and Wyddryr on the shooting line, and sets his jaw.

He will do his best, too.

[captivesrp]

Murchadh does not like his new home. He is used to freedom. 

There is a bucket of dirty water and a few twigs on the floor of the pit. Before he settles in for his first night he gathers up the debris and piles it neatly against the pit wall. He then chooses a patch of bare earth, lies down, and tries to fall asleep, but a shout interrupts him. He gets up just as a brigand tosses down a square of stale bread and some gristle that might have come from a chicken. He is then left to rest in peace. 

When he awakens the next morning it is to the ugly face of a brigand who throws him a wooden hand spade to "Clean up yer morning waste”. He takes the command a step further and digs a latrine, a narrow pit as deep as he can reach. He is also told to get rid of the pile of sticks so he buries them swiftly in a shallow hole, after which the brigand calls for the spade.

Murchadh takes pleasure in intentionally throwing it weakly, hardly an arm’s-length into the air, just out of the brigand’s reach a few times, blaming it on being a gimp. When he finally throws it with strength, he hurls it straight into the brigand’s nose, laughing under his breath as the man recoils from view holding his face.

Over the course of the day, in exchange for the stunt with the spade, the brigand sits at the edge of the pit and throws twigs, pebbles, and clods of dirt at Murchadh. Murchadh dodges what he can and in moments of peace gathers the projectiles into a pile by the pit wall. Ruefully, he thinks that in a couple days’ time the pit will be full enough for him to get out. The brigand continues his target practice, laughing at the “Gimp playin’ a maid”. So his day goes on. 

*     *     *

“Yer watch is done, Warg. Get gone.” Tyree’s face appears above Murchadh’s pit, and he tosses down Murchadh’s supper. 

Murchadh gathers it up thankfully, smiling as he notices the relative freshness of the cornbread and the recognizable meat that accompanies it. He winks at Tyree and then calls out in a loud voice, “Why don’t you cowards feed your prisoners food instead of last week’s scraps?”

Tyree winks back and returns, “Because gimps don’t get more than what they are useful for. Eat up quick to show you appreciate it or else I will eat your rations up here tomorrow night!” 

Murchadh takes the hint and quickly devours the food and buries the chicken bone.

“So, you are my nighttime caretaker? I have already seen enough of your ugly mug. Get me a pretty one to guard me---I want to have good dreams, not nightmares.”

Tyree smiles with false gentleness. “I’ve been voted prettiest, so here I am.” His smile disppears. “Now behave!” He delivers these last words sharply. 

Murchadh listens and soon hears a light tread approach his pit; judging by Tyree’s reaction, the newcomer must be his superior.

A woman appears in Murchadh’s small field of vision. “How is your catch, Tyree? Settling in?” she says with a lilting accent.

Tyree responds stiffly, clearly on edge, “He is settling as well as he can, Symbre.”

She turns to Murchadh, her pale skin glowing red in the setting sun. “How are you faring, young one?”

“Oh, well, you know, Symbre: as well as one can be expected to when one has been overpowered, dragged halfway across the land, fed almost nothing, dumped in a pit, and treated like cow feces. So overall, not bad, I guess. But how is your day going, miss?”

Symbre raises an eyebrow. “Your grasp of our dialect is improving; I’d heard about your aptitude.” Her eyes turn lazily to his pile of debris, then to Tyree. “Make sure he empties his pit of detritus; we don’t want him getting ideas.”

Murchadh smiles up calmly. “Hey, I asked Warg to stop tossing things at me, but he seemed happy to give me all of this.”

“Remind him that he is disposable, Tyree. Bledig will replace you in the morning.” She turns to leave.

Murchadh pauses. He is needed but not irreplaceable, so is it for his knowledge or for his skill that he has been kept alive? “What do you need me for, miss? I am but a gimp; if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were making a mistake keeping me.” He treads the line of politeness and scorn as delicately as he can. What skills has he even displayed? Herbalism, healing Tyree’s infection---but that had been a secret. His knife-throwing skills had not prevented his capture. What, then? Had they made assumptions based on his being alone in the woods? He speaks quickly, stalling: “There are other pits in your camp; there must be other children. How many of us do you need? Five? Ten? Fifteen? No, Ten.” Tyree’s quick glance at him when he had said ten had given away the answer. There had been five pits that Murchadh had seen, so he had figured there needs to be a multiple of five prisoners.

“I think that’s enough showing off for one night,” Symbre says. “Perhaps a two days’ fast will teach you some restraint.” She turns her hooded gaze silently to Tyree, then turns fully and disappears from Murchadh’s view.

Murchadh has to give her credit. She never once changed her tone of voice or lost control. She is good but she has one weakness, in Murchadh’s estimation: absolute confidence, so much so that she only thinks of him as a kid. He has lived on his own for years. He has killed. He has had to grow up fast. He may be young, but he is not just a child. Murchadh scoffs. Let her think that. Being underestimated has saved him before.

*     *     *

When Tyree arrives the next night after a long, boring day, Murchadh is happy to see him.

“Hey, you ugly mug, why so silent? Tell me some good stories from your life. Or about some weird places you have been.”

Tyree looks down at him. “Where did you get that dagger?”

Murchadh weighs out the pros and cons. “It was my father’s,” he says after a pause. “It was passed down from my ancestors.” 

Tyree stiffens but quickly gets back his self control. “Thank you.” He cracks his knuckles and sits by the edge of the pit. “Alright. I will tell you about the time my old messmate hunted down a giant boar all on her own . . .” 

So the evening goes, Tyree and Murchadh trading weird, irrelevant stories.

The next night passes the same. Murchadh is careful to never ask about things that could get him in trouble---his empty stomach reminding him to be careful. Though he is hungry, he had spent four days without food last winter during a blizzard. This is nothing to sweat over. That being said, when Tyree brings him a generous dinner on the third evening Murchadh is very thankful.

*     *     *

Warg is his daily companion for the next while, though he largely keeps out of Murchadh’s sight. Days pass uneventfully until Murchadh overhears a commotion surrounding what he guesses to be a neighbouring pit.

“Shut up, ast. As if I didn’t know.” The words are followed by a sudden thump---a child being deposited in a pit, if Murchadh’s estimation is correct.

His guess is confirmed by Tyree that night---a raiding party had returned with a captured girl. “Wearing a smith’s apron, looked like,” the brigand says, tossing cornbread and chicken into the pit.

As he munches on his nightly food, Murchadh wonders why he has not seen Symbre around in the last few days. She had shown her face the day his rations were reinstated, peering into the pit just long enough to check for unusual debris, not giving his salutations acknowledgement. Oh well, thinks Murchadh, can’t have them all as friends. Tonight, he is planning on telling Tyree a long tale of how he had beguiled an old rich man into believing he was his long lost son. Though mostly fabricated it is one that his audiences in the past had seemed to enjoy.

*     *     *

The next sunrise is the sixth he has seen while in his new home. This life is the pits, he thinks with wry humour. The day, as the others before it, passes in disinterest until Murchadh, idly eating a leftover corner of cornbread and watching the sun’s rays move up the east side of the pit, suddenly sees a young girl sit down on the edge of his pit and jump in.

Without moving from where she had landed, she drops to lie on the ground. She turns her back to Murchadh and he listens as her breathing evens out in sleep. She had not seen him, so he decides not to do anything until she wakes up. 

The smell of saltwater creeps towards Murchadh’s nostrils; she is from the coast. Murchadh sets aside what is left of last night’s food and sits back to sleep and wait. She will be hungry when she wakes.

*     *     *

The sun is near its zenith when Murchadh’s new companion wakes up the next day. He watches her gingerly sit up and stand, facing the wall, her careful movements revealing significant aches at the very least. Her blond hair is matted and long, hanging down well past her shoulders. 

When she turns and sees him she gives a little jump, her pupils dilating as she realizes she is not alone. “Oh! I didn’t know you were there. Who are you?” she asks.

“You must have been tired; you slept all night and for half of this day. There is decent water just over there, with your share of the food---you may as well eat,” says Murchadh as he nods in the direction of the bucket. Murchadh had arranged a portion of his previous dinner on a broad leaf beside it. “As for who I am,” he continues, “I am like you in most ways: I have no desire to be here . . . I have lost all I have to these cowards!”

“Shut your trap, you useless gimp!” replies the voice of a brigand from above.

“Come down and make me, you coward!”

Angry muttering and then silence follows. Murchadh smiles to himself and nods approvingly, then winks at the girl. “You see? They are always listening, and I am only alive because they don’t know anything about me.” Noticing her distress, Murchadh says, in a calmer voice, “Don’t worry, they need us unharmed and in good health. They haven’t come down here while I’ve been here, and I’d wager they face dire consequences if they harm us. I like this setup because I am, for now, protected.”

“They want us unharmed? I feel like a rat washed in from a shipwreck,” the girl challenges.

“That is only because they did what they needed to to get you here. You tried to escape, I am guessing. If you hadn’t you would be in better condition. When you are in these pits, they will not harm you. They need us,” Murchadh says with his slight smirk. “Besides, you are just sore. You have no real serious injuries.” 

Silence follows.

Murchadh’s eyes track the movements of the girl purely out of habit as she drinks, eats, washes, and half succeeds in working the tangles out of her hair. The only time his eyes leave her is when she moves slowly over to the makeshift latrine. 

All the while his brain is working, trying to piece together the new information. This was a girl from the coast; the drowned-rat and shipwreck colloquialisms made that clear even if her dialect did not. She is also used to freedom: she is always looking at the sky. She has probably not experienced much physical hardship, judging from her reactions to her pain, but she is not free from struggles: there is a heaviness in her eyes. 

She sits against the far wall, watching him. She is not a fighter, and not a sailor---she has no calluses and small arms; in fact, she is just all around small, and would blow away in a stiff breeze.

“Okay, this is kind of strange, just staring at each other. Can we at least have some sort of normal conversation?” asks the girl.

Murchadh responds easily, “Call me Gimpy. I don’t expect your name, but what can I call you by? And I don’t talk much for fun, so in the future if you don’t want to sit, looking at each other, then you better sit beside me.”

“Gimpy is not a very nice name to call someone,” she says.

Murchadh blinks twice in surprise. “It is their name for me, because I am a gimp.” He shows her his deformity. “I won’t mind it coming from you; I will know there is no ill will by it. I would rather keep information about me as sparse as I can, so I will not be giving any other name for myself.”

“Yeah, I know, you said that,” she says, a little put out.

Murchadh wonders why their captors would kidnap a child like her. As she moves over to his right side to sit beside him he considers how quickly they will both be killed if things get tough. He curses under his breath. He needs to get more information, and now he needs to keep this young otter pup alive as well---He sits up, rigid in surprise---where on earth had that thought come from? Why should he have to keep her alive and safe as well? His recurrent dreams were starting to affect his thoughts.

“Does it hurt?” asks the girl, indicating his withered side.

“No, it doesn’t, little girl.”

“My name is Anwen, by the way. I don’t mind telling you,” she says with a shrug.

“Well, Anwen, we will be here for a while. I hope we can get along well enough---Oh look, here comes our lovely provider of food and sanitation products! Hello, Tyree, I am glad to see your ugly mug; it is such an improvement over that other’s excuse for a face. He is also putting on weight. Did you bring me my roasted pheasant that I requested?”

Tyree grins in reply. “Your horrid excuse for a body does not really deserve any pheasant, but here you go.” He tosses down half a carcass. “I even brought you some cake. And don’t worry, I have the night watch, so I will be here to kill you when you snore too loud.”

Murchadh smiles with real pleasure as he gathers up the usual dry cornbread and chicken. Tonight, he will find out all he can. He is ready to give up all his information in exchange.

After a movment of the stars, as is his custom, he lets out a loud yawn, leans against the side of the pit, and calls out, “Tyree, I am bored.” 

Tyree moves into view, looks around, then sits at the edge of the pit. 

Murchadh takes a quick look at the girl: she is curled up, trying to sleep, but is probably still awake---her breathing is not steady yet. Oh well, thinks Murchadh, she needs to hear this as well. “Tyree, if you can convince me that I won’t die if I answer your questions, I would be willing to trade information.”

Tyree gives a little laugh. “Symbre isn’t keeping you alive for your information.”

“Fair enough,” Murchadh says as he nods. “You go first. Ask me something; I will give you as much truth as I am able.”

“What is your full name and the name of your father?” asks Tyree without hesitation.

“My name is Murchadh ab MacPaorach. My father was MacPaorach Fàsach ab MacPaorach.”

Tyree is silent for a while, then he draws two daggers from his belt and holds them up.

In the starlight Murchadh can only see their outlines and the occasional glint of metal. He recognizes the shape of his dagger. “They look very similar,” he says.

Tyree speaks quietly, “They are one set. They bear the same seal. Mine was passed down from my ancestors. My name was . . . is Tyree ab MacPaorach.” He looks off into the distance. “A chief once had a set of daggers made for his two sons---gave one to each. The younger left to find adventure and glory when he was just a boy. The older stayed, but his tribe was wiped out and he was carried away as a slave. This dagger---” he holds up the dagger similar to Murchadh’s, “---was all he managed to steal with him when he was sold. And my ancestor passed it to his daughter, who passed it to her son. Eventually a slave earned his freedom, but by that time he was in a distant place. So he stayed there. I am that man’s grandson.”

A silence follows. Murchadh struggles to get his breath. His world is reeling. His father had only ever told him that their ancestors were wanderers, tinkers, mercenaries---never having a home. He had never mentioned any of this. Finally Murchadh takes a deep breath and asks, “Why am I here?”

Tyree looks at him silently. “To hunt,” he says.

“Why do you need me---need children? You seem to have plenty of able adult bodies around. I can track, I know some things about animal habits, but if the prey is harder to kill than a rabbit I am useless if I find it; I can only throw a dagger. I am not a fighter, for obvious reasons.” Murchadh continues, forming insights as he speaks, “No . . . you need children for this hunt. And not necessarily child hunters, just . . . children, maybe with some skills.”

Tyree looks at him and finally says, “The creature is dangerous and clever. I can say no more than that.” He looks at the daggers again before slipping them into his belt. “Now, where did you learn that song? I personally killed the last person to know it fully, and he sang those exact lines to me before he died. There is no possible way for you to have learned it.”

Murchadh’s heart sinks. Suspecting his dream-creature to be somehow involved with the unfolding intrigue surrounding him, he has to tread carefully. “I have a recurring dream where an old soul travels with me a bit, and we sing this song together---Why these other kids?” He looks up at Tyree. “A smith, or smith’s apprentice---she’s probably strong, but . . . her?” Murchadh gestures with a nod to his pit companion. “We’re just random kids.”

Tyree’s face had hardened at the mention of Murchadh’s dream. “Enough. No more questions or you’ll be fasting again. Even I have my limits.”

Murchadh nods understandingly. “If I ever am forced to divulge that I know as much as I do I will pin it on Yldregch---Oh, and cousin,” Murchadh whispers, “I will need my dagger when the time comes for me to hunt . . . and also, take care of my father’s bow; I feel like I can trust you with it for now.”

Tyree straightens and leaves Murchadh’s field of view. 

His new knowledge has left Murchadh shaken; he has a lot to consider now.

*     *     *

Over the next few days Murchadh sees little of Tyree, but does not think much of it; he is distracted: he has learned that Anwen is a dancer, and has set about training her skills to apply to the game of hunting.

Murchadh had uncovered his store of detritus and had lain dry twigs and leaves about the floor of the pit, encouraging her to move while making an effort to remain silent. Then he has her stand by a wall and attempt to memorize the arrangement of the items, then he has her close her eyes while he walks through, making sure to disturb twigs and leaves as he passes. After he has traveled the few paces to the other side, he asks her to trace his path. She seems to enjoy the distraction and she takes quickly to the skills he is teaching her.

It has been five days since Anwen joined him when, in the evening, Tyree walks up to the pit and says, “We now have all ni---ten of you,” before turning and walking away. 

Murchadh knows that they will be out of the pit soon, likely wishing they could have stayed. He looks at Anwen and hears the voice of his golden friend speaking from his dream last night: “We protect them because that is our duty. Do not fail your duty: make sure they live.” 

Murchadh shivers.