#nice moves mister rock from early man

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 21st December

I was just saying we got no Christmas songs this year, and look what happened. Better late than never, I guess? Though, with Christmas songs like this, maybe best not to count your chickens before they hatch...

Poetry in Motion - Johnny Tillotson (peaked at Number 1)

Before we get to the Christmas novelties, though, this. The first thing I thought, honestly, was that wow, this is some pure rock and roll sleaziness. The whole thing's just a shot of concentrated thirst, after all, as Johnny sings about how when I see my baby / What do I see? I don't know, Johnny, what do you see? Poetry in motion, apparently. You see, her lovely locomotion / Keeps my eyes open wide. She's like poetry, see her gentle sway / A wave out on the ocean / Could never move that way. Translation? He's watching her butt as she walks, and damn, that girl's butt is fine.

That said, there is something pretty wholesome to it, in a way you don't always see in more modern songs - it's not just about Johnny ogling his girlfriend, you know? He's trying, in his own way, to affirm her, you get the sense, hence the lines about how there's nothing I would change, and how she doesn't need improvement / She's much too nice to rearrange . You could imagine that she maybe has some self-image issues, but Johnny loves her just as she is, and is keen to tell her - along with the rest of the world! And even if that's not the backstory you're meant to read into this, there's also something pretty cute in the lines about how much he loves to see her dancing - not because she's hot, this time, but because she's dancing alongside him, a flower of devotion / For all the world to see.

And on top of some genuinely cute lyrics, just the most 1950s / early 1960s accompaniment, lots of whoah-oh-oh-oh doo-wop touches, some lovely, lazy saxophone accompaniment, rifle-sharp drumming and of course, that hammering piano beat. The players, here, are some top-level talent, too, with Boots Randolph on sax and Floyd Cramer on piano. I've not gone too far into looking at session musicians, in the rest of this project, but both of them are names I've seen on other tracks, and Floyd Cramer's about to hit the charts in his own right. Them - and the bass player, one Floyd Chance - are rightly seen as legends in the industry, and part of the so-called "Nashville A-Team", a loose grouping of players who appeared accompanying everyone from Elvis to Bob Dylan. They typically came from a country music background, but as you can hear here, they ended up playing all sorts of stuff, including a lot of huge rock and roll and rockabilly tracks, and they really make this track. Not that Johnny doesn't have a clean-cut charm of his own, either, but there's just a lot going on here, beyond just what he's bringing - and it's all pretty great, so kudos to the producers and audio engineers, I guess?'

Lonely Pup (In a Christmas Shop) - Adam Faith (4)

Meanwhile, what to do with this? I feel like the obvious point of comparison is Tommy Steele's Little White Bull, from the previous year, as a cute, Christmassy bit of fluff. Except at least that song had the dubious honour of coming from a film. This one, as far as I can see, didn't - somebody just thought that hey, we could sell a song about a dog in a pet shop at Christmas, waiting for an owner. And clearly it worked, because this got to Number 4, but still. It feels flimsy, emotionally manipulative and just kind of twee.

The other obvious point of comparison, 1952's How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?, at least had the thing going on where the singer's man is going away, and she wants a pet who can keep him safe, in a fun flip of the typical gender-roles. This, meanwhile, is a "please buy a dog" song at its most "route A", in its most basic, uninteresting form. I mean, soft brown eyes that seem to say, / Stay a while, I want to play? Lines asking Mister Santa, if you would / Send him someone, oh so good? Lines straight out telling the listener, pity him, he's got no pop? Urgh. I've already told you, I'm not buying a dog!

Musically, it's definitely Adam Faith, lots of strummy guitar and background strings. We've added some jingling sounds and xylophone, to make it more Christmassy, though, and we've oomphed the strings up to almost Mantovani levels of drippy excess. Plus, there's the children's choir. Because of course there's a children's choir. There are very few songs that actually benefit from the addition of a children's choir (off the top of my head, I can only think of One More Brick in the Wall) and this is no exception to the rule. Not wholly unlistenable, but definitely not something I'm going to be seeking out. Apparently all this was orchestrated and managed by John Barry, of all people, who I really thought would have more taste, but there you go. Merry Christmas, I guess.

And thus 1960 rolls to an end, with a song that sounds, to my ears, very 1950s. This isn't a huge shock, as it usually does take a while for a decade to "find its feet", as it were. It'd be weirder if the 1960s arrived fully formed, honestly - especially when so many of the artists involved, especially session musicians, stayed the same. The names on the singles change, sure, but at the end of the day, half these songs feature the same 20 or 30 people on most of the instruments you're hearing - and the other half are trying to sound like the first half, with avrying degrees of success. Or they're singing about lonely dogs in a Christmas shop. You know, as you do.

Favourite song of the bunch: Poetry in Motion

[missmeela]

Cross

Maynaux tapped the stick into the loose soil, then straightened up the cross. It has been a long time since Maynaux felt guilty, betrayed even. The young Elezen wiped the sweat and tears from his face. He stared up at the sky, the Sun already having left to sleep. The day had started out so well, and now? Now it was all ruined.

Maynaux had woken up early with the birds. He knew it wasn't good to rest too long into the daylight. People would always come along to cause problems. And soon, one such person was about to appear.

He resumed his path from the day before, cutting his way through the woods and following the river.

"You're scaring the fish."

Maynaux span around in surprise at the voice. People didn't usually go unnoticed by him. Usually, he preferred it to be the complete reverse.

"Um, sorry, Mister. I'm just going on my way anyway."

"Before breakfast? A growing lad like you shouldn't be skipping meals."

Maynaux peered at the hooded Elezen on the river bank. People were terrible, but breakfast? Breakfast sounded like it would appeal very much to him right now. His stomach murmured its approval to this idea.

Careful now

Maynaux approached the man slowly. He had his little blade all ready to go. Just a little nick, if he were to try anything. Nothing too serious, just something for him to remember to not do it again.

"You have breakfast?"

Maynaux looked out at the fishing rods and empty nets sceptically.

"It's nothing much. Just egg sandwiches."

The man leaned over to the side and pulled up a battered metal lunch box. He opened it up, took out a sandwich and offered it to Maynaux.

"It's Mister Dausat, and you are?"

Maynaux skittishly approached and snatched the sandwich away, then backed up.

"Um, thank you, Mister Dauser."

"That's Dausat, and you're very welcome. Sit for a while. It seems the fish don't want to give me any company for the moment. But, I'd welcome some distraction from staring at these empty hooks."

Maynaux stooped some and leaned against one of the taller rocks jutting up from the ground. He was sitting as requested, so he started stuffing the sandwich into his mouth. The good thing about egg is that it requires minimal chewing.

Dausat watched Maynaux devouring half of his breakfast.

"Are you heading to the town?"

Maynaux shook his head vigorously. Town was always bad. But didn't need to interrupt his eating to add anything more.

Dausat looked up the river and then back to Maynaux.

"Just live in the forest, do you?"

Maynaux was most of the way through that sandwich now. He just shrugged.

"Not much for talking, are you?"

Dausat picked up the other half of his breakfast and offered it to Maynaux.

"Well, you best take this. I already ate before I left the house, and I'm sure you'll appreciate this more than me."

Maynaux stuffed the piece of crust he still held into his mouth and took the other sandwich from the Dausat. Maynaux didn't know why this stranger was lying to him; he was so lousy at it too. He didn't mind it too much, it just meant more egg sandwiches. He nodded some sort of thanks and went back to lean against his rock.

It turned out that Dausat lived a lot like him, out in the woods. But he'd made something of a humble home to live in. Over the half-bell or so, Dausat recounted how he'd come to live out here. For a tasty egg sandwich, Maynaux figured he'd earned at least that much of his time.

It soon became time for Maynaux to move on again. As agreeable as Dausat was, he was still people. But Maynaux decided he liked him; enough to decide he wasn't specifically 'bad' people.

"Uhh, thanks, Mister Dausat. But I should be going. I've got to... go. But really, thanks for breakfast."

Dausat stood up from his fishing spot and gave Maynaux a polite bow.

"It was nice to meet such a friendly face. Usually, it's just me. So if you happen by here again, I'm usually out fishing in the morning. I'll be sure to keep an extra sandwich on hand."

"Thanks again."

Maynaux nodded awkwardly, then cut a path directly into the woods to circle back to the river later. As he walked, he realised that Mister Dausat hadn't caught a fish that whole time. Maybe he should have helped him with that. No, that might have been dangerous. What if he had never let him go?

He walked some more, now back alongside the river. He realised he hadn't even told Mister Dausat his own name in return. Maybe if later in his journeys, he returned for another egg sandwich, he'd rectify this transgression.

After rounding a slight curve in turn of the river, Maynaux spotted a man. He stood waist-deep in the middle of the river, dunking his face beneath the surface, then coming back up and angrily flailing his arms.

Maynaux ducked low to the ground and watched him and his peculiar antics. It was then that the man spotted Maynaux crouching on the riverbank. With seemingly equal fury to his flailing, he thrust an extended finger at Maynaux.

"You! You can see me! Get over here."

The man waded quickly through the water towards Maynaux. Maynaux realised in a sudden calmness and relief, the water, it didn't move.

Maynaux stood up slowly and offered the man a little bow.

"Oh, I didn't realise at first. You're dead. Did you know?"

Masterpost

[kindofwriter]

Can I offer you some: ‘Ep 25, The Gang Meets Wilde’

Pt. 2

I guess I swung wildly between ‘brandy’ and ‘whiskey’ when writing this and didn’t notice, oof.

Transcript under the cut:

HAMID: I don't, I, I don't think so... Um, hello?

HAMID presses his finger tips to the door, swinging it gently inwards but not fully opening it. SASHA instantly flattens herself against the wall, drawing a dagger and clutching it to her chest.

VOICE (O.S.): Oh, hello?

VOICE (O.S.): Oh, hello?

VOICE (O.S.): Oh, hello?

VOICE (O.S.): Oh, hello?

BERTIE: Oh! Hello!

SASHA and ZOLF both give BERTIE a glare. HAMID reaches out to push the door further, but stops before he does.

VOICE (LANGUISHLY): Oh, hello!

BERTIE (OVERLAPPING): Hello!

HAMID (OVERLAPPING): Hello?

VOICE (O.S.) (OVERLAPPING): Hello!

BERTIE: Hello! Hello!

ZOLF elbows BERTIE in the waist.

ZOLF: Who on Earth are ya?

VOICE (O.S.): I could ask you the same question, I suppose!

HAMID steps into the apartment, pushing the door wide open as he does so. ZOLF and BERTIE step in behind him.

OSCAR WILDE is lounging by the hearth, looking only slightly uncomfortable in a halfling-sized chair. He's human, average height and average build, with plump, youthful features. His hair falls the nape of his neck in glossy, brown waves that shimmer every time he turns his head; he's clearly wearing an illusion.

WILDE is dressed in a manner that's almost garish: peacock patterned waistcoat, scarlet, French-style suit, red shoes, and yellow socks, but between his good-looks and his charisma he completely pulls it off. In one hand he holds a glass of HAMID's whiskey, and in the other a note pad.

WILDE: So sorry I, uh, got here a little early, thought I'd just wait it out.

WILDE smiles winningly at the party. BERTIE reaches up to lift the grate of his armour. HAMID looks confused. ZOLF frowns, then grabs hold of his symbol. A low sound, part way between a hum and a growl, emits from his throat, reminiscent of wind battering across the top of a lake. For just a moment his eyes glow, then WILDE's notebook bursts into flames.

WILDE: Ooh, ah!

WILDE drops the pad, shaking his hand. It's burnt to a crisp before it hits the ground. Looking at its smoldering remains, a faint smile twitches at WILDE's lips.

WILDE: Fantastic, that'd be you... Zolf? Yes?

ZOLF (PLAYING DUMB AS A ROCK): Who, sorry?

WILDE (SMIRKING): Hmm.

CUT TO SASHASASHA is still pressed against the wall, head turned to the side so she can listen in. Her face is stony, but she looks poised for a fight.

CUT BACK TO INT.

WILDE: So, that must be Zolf.

ZOLF scowls and looks away from WILDE.

WILDE: And Hamid, and Sir Bertrand, yes.

BERTIE: Hello.

BERTIE steps forward, obscuring WILDE's view of everyone else. Between his height and his breadth he towers over WILDE, who immediately starts to look a little flushed.

WILDE (ALMOST COY): Hello.

WILDE looks BERTIE up and down in a meaningful fashion. He then glances away for a moment to meet ZOLF's eye, just to make sure he's catching what WILDE is doing. BERTIE looks a little affronted at the loss of attention.

BERTIE: Mm.

WILDE turns and begins to pour another glass of whiskey from HAMID's decanter, then offers it to BERTIE.

HAMID: Um, who might you be?

WILDE (WITHOUT BREAKING EYE CONTACT WITH BERTIE): Wilde. Good to meet you.

BERTIE: Pleasure.

BERTIE takes the drink.

ZOLF: Is there a compelling reason why, um, I shouldn't shove this trident up your bum?

Now WILDE does turn away from BERTIE, looking right at ZOLF. It's difficult to tell whether he's red with annoyance, heat, or still recovering from his intense eye contact with BERTIE.

WILDE: Oh, that's not very- You wouldn't want that getting out, would you now? Honestly!

BERTIE (CLEARLY TRYING TO WIN WILDE'S ATTENTION BACK): Well, you haven't been formally introduced, which I think is part of the reason.

ZOLF (MUTTERING): Well, also, you'd be dead, so it wouldn't be going anywhere.

BERTIE has clearly failed to hold WILDE's attention, as he watches ZOLF with a quirked eyebrow. There's no hint of the 'bedroom eyes' he'd tried on with BERTIE, but there's definitely some kind of passion in that gaze. However it seems, more than anything, like the passion to argue.

HAMID: You, you, you appear to be in my apartment uninvited.

WILDE: I do apologise.

WILDE actually looks at HAMID for the first time.

WILDE: I was just hoping to get hold of you, and, well, I thought this was the best place. I mean, you have been staying here most nights, haven't you?

HAMID: Yes.

WILDE: Well, there we go then, I, uh, I thought you might enjoy the company.

WILDE once again makes eyes at BERTIE.

HAMID: Next, next time it might be nice of you to wait for an invitation.

WILDE: I, I do apologise, I, I did knock!

HAMID sighs deeply.

HAMID: Not quite the same thing, is it?

WILDE (EVASIVELY): I suppose not. So! This is all very exciting; I'm noticing you're all looking a little worse for wear-

HAMID smooths a hand over his waistcoat.

HAMID: I, uh, I would dispute that, thank you.

WILDE: Well, let me re-phrase: not all of you. I'm, I'm noticing, um-

WILDE glances at ZOLF, who seems to be the only one in the room not trying to capture his attention.

ZOLF (GRUMPILY): No, I always look like this.

WILDE: One of, one of your party's missing?

ZOLF (PLAYING DUMBER THAN A ROCK): Who? Nope.

WILDE: Oh, I'm fairly certain that the girl-

ZOLF (INTERRUPTING): No, nope, who? What?

WILDE: The girl is. Hmm, yes. Quite. So, where have you been? How was today? I'm quite fascinated, actually.

HAMID (FIRMLY): Why don't you tell us why it is you're here?

WILDE: Well, I just thought it might be a good idea for you to sit down and, y'know, really, really share, y'know? Really explain things by yourselves, because people want to know. You know?

WILDE gives HAMID a very smug look.

HAMID: Are you a reporter of some kind?

WILDE: Mm, yeah, of a, of a kind. I, I, I sell my stories to whoever's interested, really. And a lot of people are very interested-

WILDE turns away from HAMID and begins to pour more glasses of whiskey. HAMID seems unfazed by this.

WILDE: I just, a lot of people are very interested-

BERTIE: Well, you know-

BERTIE shoves his glass between the decanter and the glass WILDE was filling, effectively giving himself a top-up.

BERTIE: I, I have been looking- I very much have an opening for a biographer.

BERTIE raises an eyebrow at WILDE, still leant across him from filling his glass. WILDE smirks.

WILDE: Well, we would have to closet ourselves away for a significant amount of time to really go over, go over the details. The nitty gritty, as it were.

Behind them, ZOLF scowls, clearly picking up on their queer-coded language, but immediately looking down on anyone who would willingly flirt with BERTIE. HAMID shuffles his feet, waiting innocently for the pair to finish talking.

BERTIE: I, I assure you, I have some extremely fine details to share with the appropriate young scholar.

WILDE turns, two new glasses of whiskey balanced in one hand.

WILDE (WITH A CHUCKLE): Presumably you mean of quality, not diminutive.

BERTIE joins in with his chuckle, but it quickly becomes mean, eventually devolving into a deep growl. Suddenly looking a little uncomfortable, WILDE moves away from BERTIE and offers a glass of whiskey to ZOLF. His face is soft; clearly he's looking for a little sympathy.

ZOLF refuses to take the whiskey, and scowls again at WILDE.

HAMID takes the glass offered to him, so WILDE drains ZOLF's.

BERTIE: My details are distinguished by their quality and their quantity.

WILDE (LESS SURE, BUT STILL PLAYING HIS PART): Indeed, I mean, that, that's a lot of the reason that I'm here. I've been hearing so much interesting- I mean, your deeds with Other London? And especially, I mean- Did you, did you manage to catch whoever it was with the antiques store?

CUT TO SASHA IN THE HALLWAY

SAHSA grimaces; tightens her grip on the dagger.

CUT BACK

WILDE: I heard that was, heard that was a bit of a problem, no?

An awkward silence hangs over the room for a moment as ZOLF and HAMID give WILDE a look that tells him that was in poor taste. BERTIE enjoys his whiskey.

HAMID: Uh, l-look, Mister Wilde, I don't-

WILDE: Sorry that was, that was, that was rude of me. Clearly I was treading on  a nerve. I'm so sorry.

BERTIE raises an eyebrow, seemingly losing some respect for WILDE as he apologises.

HAMID: I don't, I don't mind telling you about, uh, what we've been up to. As I'm sure you've seen in the press and will see again soon, we are not averse to sharing our story. But I really must insist that you tell me what it is you do, and why it is you are here specifically.

WILDE (JUMPING IN): It is so generous of you to donate so much to the natural history museum, as well-

Suddenly WILDE is knocked off his feet, backwards into HAMID's chair, dropping his glass as he does so. SASHA looms over him, the tip of a dagger pressed lightly to his throat. WILDE is surprised, but not afraid.

SASHA: What do you know about the antique store?

WILDE smiles, just slightly.

WILDE: Well, I was hoping you'd be able to tell me, all I know is that you were there.

SASHA (UPSET, BUT IN HER OWN WAY): What, what do you know?

BERTIE steps forward, placing a hand on SASHA's shoulder.

BERTIE: Now, now, Sasha. If there's any blade to be held to this young man's throat I feel it should be mine-

SASHA shrugs BERTIE off with such force he actually has to remove his hand.

SASHA (CLEARLY AGITATED): He, he knows something about what happened to Gusset. He, he knows who trashed Gusset's store!

WILDE (WRIGGLING BENEATH THE DAGGER): No, no, that's not what I said.

SASHA: Oh, really? So, you know-

WILDE: I was curious-

SASHA: So how did you know about that? Because we didn't go to the press about that.

SASHA pressed slightly with the dagger. WILDE leans further into the chair to avoid getting nicked.

WILDE: Well, y'know, some people are observant, and some people, y'know- I mean, where do the press find these things out?

SASHA: Well, but- Usually, Hamid tells them!

For just a moment SASHA alleviates some pressure from WILDE, and it seems as if she might wheel around to threaten HAMID. Then she looks down at WILDE and re-applies the pressure; she trusts HAMID.

WILDE: Well, usually doesn't always cut it-

SASHA: That's how journalism works!

WILDE takes a moment to allow his eyes to drift back to BERTIE.

WILDE: Some deeds will just speak of their own accord.

SASHA: Oi! 

SASHA begins to press the tip of the blade to WILDE's throat. Once ZOLF realises what she's doing he steps forward slightly, poised to pull her off.

SASHA: What do you know about who trashed Gusset's store?

WILDE: I don't know what to say. I know that you went in there, and you, uh, had a bit of a conversation. It looked very amicable, and then you headed on your way.

WILDE catches sight of ZOLF, stood behind SASHA with an arm outstretched. He visibly relaxes, allowing a huge grin to spread across his face.

[drakewalkerfantasy]

Making it right (Blaine x Denise)

Summary: The day when he takes her for a surprise is the day, when she finally realises that it’s more and it always will be more for both of them. The day when she finally starts to believe that the fairy tales can be real at least with this man.

Words: 3202

Rating: PG

Warning: fluff/could be some words or innuendoes, but nothing too specific

A/N: I hope you will love it. I’m not sure if I like it myself... it seems too rushed and I don’t even know if in character. But here it is. Sorry for any mistakes, I tried proofread as much as possible.

“Where are we going,” laughed Denise, trying to match Blaine’s large strides and quick pace. His hand holding hers almost dragging her after him, in only him known direction, making her walk faster.

“What in the concept of surprise missed it’s meaning?” chuckled Blaine, sounding amused by her impatient. But that was one of the reasons why he fell for her... one of the reasons why he was still falling for her even stronger. “But I can promise you will love it,” Blaine said, finally stopping, turning to face Denise and taking both her hands in his. “Now can I blindfold you please?”

“Ummmm, Mister Kinky...,” murmured Denise, stepping closer to him and trying to kiss.

“Someone needs to get her mind out of the gutter or mine will also go there and we will never get anywhere,” laughed Blaine, pulling her closer before placing his hands on her shoulders and pressing his forehead to hers. “So now be a good girl and turn around,” he said.

“Will you punish me if I disobey?" she murmured the question. Her lips ghosting against his, while she spoke.

“Denise...,” growled Blaine with an edge of the warning in his voice before finally turning her around and tying the red blindfold, that was matching Denise’s dress. Placing the soft kiss to her shoulder, that instantly sent a pleasurable sensation down her spine.

“You are no fun,” she pouted with the most adorable pout on her lips.

“I promise you will not regret it. Now give me your hand,” said Blaine, taking her hand in his and leading her down the steep path. His hand placed protectively on the small of her back, while another held hers, carefully helping her down until they finally came to the halt.

Still holding her hand he walked her forward until she heard neighs and clutters of hooves nearby, feeling how her heart fluttered in excitement. A moment later the lace slipping from her eyes, revealing to her two beautiful mighty horses held for them.

“How do you knew?” Asked Denise, coming forward and placing her hand on a chestnut horse's snout, patting the animal with affection.

She had been around horses since the very early age. She learned how to ride her first horse... pony, when she was about 2, excelled at this only a year later. And since then she just got better and better at that.

From early childhood horses were the only way for her to find peace. The only way to the happiness she always craved. And the only way for her when she felt trapped to feel free.

Even one moment near to the horse made her calmer. The single short horseback ride made her grounded. And when she sent her horse into the gallop she felt stronger, more powerful, happier. And she was good with them.

She could feel how her mind raced with the million questions. How did he know? Who told him about her hobby... passion... getaway... Did he speak with her parents? Nadia? Damien? Tatum...

“Tatum,” explained Blaine as if he could hear her mind, patting his own black horse before stepping back to Denise. “Need help here,” he asked, watching how she easily saddled the horse, making him look at her in awe.

“I’m good here,” she replied, feeling how the thrill rushed through her, waiting for Blaine to saddle his black stallion before they started to move forward side by side. Letting their horses lead the way, walking over the narrow path until the sound of waves started to reach them, revealing in the moment a beautiful narrow beach in front of them.

“Was it your surprise?” after a moment asked Denise, watching at the water. Inhaling the salty smell of the sea, letting the wind mess up her hair and flutter her red dress.

“Thought you would miss it... I mean all of it... your horse... the ocean... freedom, but it’s only part of what I have planned for today. So, race me to the end of the beach?” suddenly said Blaine with the grin, nodding into the distance, where the beach was ending with the cliff digging into the sea.

“You are on, Hayes. You will be eating my dust before you know it,” laughed Denise before sending her chestnut beauty into a gallop without a single warning. Making Blaine’s eyes follow her for a moment longer, admiring the way her body moved. Watching how easily she settled in a perfect galloping position, whispering something into the Chestnut’s ear. Her body’s weight pushed down on to the stirrup, her lower leg kept at the girth and her knees and ankles held springiness, to absorb the galloping movement. Her red dress fluttered on the wind when the Chestnut moved and her melodic laugh rang through the wind, while the water splashed around them.

It took him only a moment or two to admire the view in front of him before he shook himself from the reverie and finally sent his own horse into the gallop easily catching up with Denise, watching how her eyes widened in surprise. Now, moving neck to neck with all might until finally stopping at the end of the beach under the overhanging rock.

“You couldn’t help yourself but have to win,” she pouted getting off Chestnut but not faster than Blaine, feeling his hands around her waist and his hot breath in her ear, while she slid down to the sand.

“Not a chance, querida,” murmured he with a light kiss to her cheek, feeling her back pressing to his chest and her ass brushing along his crotch making him hiss.

“Someone either liked a horse ride a little bit too much or is happy to see me,” she purred, turning to Blaine, making him hiss even more.

“You know, I'm always happy to see you... but it’s not the point and I’m kind of trying to be a gentleman here... so, can you please stop grinding against my hard-on?” groaned Blaine, squeezing her hips in a warning because she brushed her butt against him in a sensual motion once again. Making him finally turn her to face him. “Now... please, stop making him too happy to see you and let’s get moving.”

“Where?”

“It’s not far, just a dozen meters from here behind the cliff,” replied Blaine, nodding to the cliff that was digging into the water, making it look like a ship making its way into the sea. “Don’t worry it isn’t deep,” explained he, noticing how she looked at the water’s edge.

“And what about them?” asked Denise patting the horse she was riding just a moment ago.

“They’ll be fine. They were both raised here. Know these trails even better than I do and they know their way back,” said Blaine giving both horses a sugar cube before gently patting them on their crops, watching how they started to strode in the direction they just got from. Finally extending his hand to Denise, Blaine waited for her to accept it. “Are you ready?” he asked in this smooth velvety tone.

The damn tone that sent the thrill down her spine every time. And the one that made her throat go dry too suddenly, making her feel shy under his intense gaze, and making her ready for impulsive decisions.

Gently Blaine tugged her hand, tearing her gaze from the two powerful animals trotting away from them. Leading her to the waters, stopping just a little bit shy of the waves licking the shore. His firm muscular body crouching in front of her taking off her sandals and then his shoes. The sandals dangling now from her fingers, while he held his shoes, rolling his dark blue jeans to his knees before making the first step into the sea that was still freezing cold at the end of May.

The edge of the cliff that dug into the water cutting the shore in half wasn’t too wide so before Denise could complain about the chilling temperatures or the hem of her dress getting wet they were already on another side and drying. Her fingers curled into the sand and she looked around them, taking in the view. Feeling how Blaine stepped behind her, his hands wrapping around her waist letting her lean into him for a moment before turning her to face him.

“Let’s go,” he whispered in a smoky whisper with his eyes fixed on hers.

“Where now?”

“Just over there,” he nodded to the left and only now when her eyes followed the direction he pointed she noticed a white blanket spread in a distance with a picnic basket on it. And something else... flowers... or more precise baskets of flowers. And she felt how her heart missed a beat... and then another one. Until started to beat in a full force from how romantic whatever Blaine planned looked like.

Slowly he walked her toward the blanket, helping her seat before opening the basket and starting to set a food in front of them, making her mouth instantly to water. She bit her lip watching how he had set a board with different cheeses on it in front of her, before taking a box of nicely cut strawberries and grapes. Everything that she loved. All what he took out was her favourite and her heart beat faster from how thoughtful he was. That he even bothered to take her on a date even though she was his already, despite the fact that he didn’t get her a ring.

“How do you...,” she gasped. Know, sounding more like a whisper and her pulse picking up the speed when he took out the box of the heart shaped french macarons and placed it in the middle. He hated them with the ferocity she didn’t even know was in him, this why she never said that she loved them... never opened her guilty pleasure to him. And still... here he was, placing her most favourite, custom made, most delicious macarons in the world, most hated delicacy by him before gingerly taking the last item from the box. Her favourite flower, making her heart jump and her eyes widen as no one... never done anything like that for her, and she felt the treacherous lump forming in her throat, stubbornly pushing it back and blinking her tears not letting them to fall.

“Someone wants to get laid today or to get blowed,” she murmured jokingly. The laugh ripped out of her throat before she could stop it like a self-defence mechanism that kicked in automatically to protect her from disappointment later. Her hand placed on his thighs and her lips meeting his. But before she could deepen the kiss he stopped it, kissing her softly before moving away.

“I always want to get laid, but today... more than anything I want to take care of you... make sure that you know that I’m here for a long haul,” said Blaine caressing Denise’s cheek with his thumb.

“I already know this. Your rushed after me all the way to the airport to stop me from boarding the plane and your speech kind of made a point. Don’t you think? Plus you hate macarons with the passion, but still, here we are...,” said Denise, nodding toward the box.

“I know, I did, but you better open the box,” suggested Blaine nudging a pink box of macarons toward Denise, feeling how his heart skipped a beat under her scrutinising gaze.

After a minute, that was the most torturous minute in Blaine’s life, consisting of never ending continuous seconds Denise finally reached the box. Her long delicate fingers undone the lace ribbon, and her mouth waters from the single thought of enjoying the treat she missed the most here. Carefully she opened the box and froze... her eyes widened even more, and her heart started to beat a staccato of sounds that was unknown to her.

Never ever did her heart beat like that, while her eyes flew over the macarons in the box. Full box of custom made, heart shaped macarons with different messages and all for her. The proclamation of love in different languages and among them the message on the perfectly rounded five macarons. Will you marry me? The message, that her eyes skipped over and over again, feeling how her heart beat faster every time when her eyes stopped on the beautiful diamond ring sitting on top of the heart shaped lilac macaron with the word Yes! still unable to believe that this is happening. And even more, that he even could have considered that her reply could be anything but Yes, when her eyes stopped on another silver macaron with the reply No! Thinking of how perfect he is, that even though this reply would break his heart he still requested it to be created with an unique taste.

“But you...,” croaked Denise, feeling how the lump inside her throat grew bigger, wondering how long it will take for it to block her airways. Feeling suffocating and trapped, until she felt his comforting touch on her hand. Calming... grounding. Making the lump ease and the raspy voice to leave her throat. “But you... you already proposed. In an airport. When I... when I was leaving...”

“Yes, I did... but I didn’t have a ring then, and I want to make it right.... is this okay with you?” asked Blaine, holding her hands. His thumbs run soothingly over her knuckles. Taking the edge off her, while she slowly nodded and he released a breath of relief he even didn’t realise he was holding. “Good...,” breathed Blaine, kneeling next to Denise, facing her with both of her hands in his. “Denise Alexandra Park... I know that our story didn’t start like every other fairy tales' story. Met a girl, wooed a girl and then swoon her. We met... we had some fun and then we parted. And the only thing I knew about you was the name Alex... and the name of your friend Tatum... it was complicated and then, when I met you again you were engaged to get married in a couple of weeks. And this was the only time left that we were supposed to have. The time that I thought will be enough to get you... that out of my system, but it wasn’t. I couldn’t forget you then and I definitely couldn’t forget you now after waking up near to you for two best weeks of my life. You know I never believed in fairy tales or happy endings, and I know you didn’t either... not after dickheads you were dating,” he chuckled, making her blush and her lips spread into a smile. “But with you... God... with you I know that it is possible. I know you are terrified... but I promise if you will tell me yes...”

“I already...,” tried to interrupt Denise, only for his lips to capture hers to silence.

“As I said, if your reply will be yes, our marriage will never be the golden cage for you, neither will it be to trap you. And I promise to give you all the freedom you need... and all the space you may want... just tell me will you marry me?” 

And she knew that this was her way out, that Blaine not only wanted to make it right but if she wanted to take her Yes... the one she gave him only a couple of weeks ago she could and no matter how much it would break his heart he was ready to risk it... but even to her utter surprise she didn't want it... not now... not ever... not with him. With him she wanted all in, not out.

Denise looked at Blaine with the bated breath, when realisation started to hit her one after another. The thoughts whirled in her mind, while she tried to grub at everything that had happened so quickly and process it, feeling how her pulse started to race with the neckbreaking speed.

Only a few weeks ago she was engaged... doomed to get married to the guy who she didn’t love and who didn’t love her back. And what was supposed to be only a whirlwind romance before her “big day” in a month somehow she ended up with another proposal, this time from the guy she somehow within two week... or was it from the first sight? The thought is so silly that she almost laughed at it. Silly... you don’t believe in love from the first sight... you don’t believe in love at all... not since... Her eyes widened... Shit... she gasped, the kaleidoscope of events was spinning in her brains quicker and quicker...

Their first meeting... their dance... their kiss... threesome... her eyes locked on his through the mirror... his pulsing length in her... sleeping together... then the letter... the tears... the fight with her parents... loveless engagement... the Summit... the sex... the last two weeks filled with sex and passion... then more sex... their fight... him not wanting to let her go... proposal... her muttered Yes!!! Yes!!! Yes!!!... more tears... another two or three weeks of sex and passion... his parents cutting him off... her parents cutting her off... and now another proposal with RING, and two choices she needed to choose from… when in reality here was the only choice she wanted to make.

The panic rising in her and the lump started to build in her throat again until she felt the gentlest squeeze of his hands and she suddenly felt calmer, not suffocating from pressure, more free then she ever felt. Her eyes moving between two choices... one of which she will make in a moment... the one that will change her life forever.

Her hand reached to the one and he closed his eyes to steady his breathing. And if he thought that previous wait for her to open the box was torturous now the single moment felt excruciatingly long, but he still waited patiently not rushing her until he felt something against his lips and he twisted his nose before taking a bite, feeling how his heartbeats slowed… then stopped... then stopped again... before starting to beat anew... reborn, when the lavender lemon taste with a hint of honey exploded on his taste buds, nauseatingly sweet, but SO sweet... the taste of Yes!!!

His eyes flew open meeting hers, smiling... before his lips met hers urgently... passionately. The way it was from the first moments they met. The fire igniting inside them... burning them before Blaine broke the kiss, both panting heavily. His hands reaching to hers taking the heart shaped macaron out of her hands.

“You minx,” he whispered against her lips, smiling, before taking the ring from the macaron and sliding it onto her finger before kissing her again… before loving her… before devouring every single inch of her body with his. Every movement and kiss was a promise… the promise of freedom and the promise of love she was seeking for.

And after the hours they lay together on the white blanket, spent and happy. The food was everything that Denise loved, and Blaine was everything she could ever wish for.

Tagging:

@choices-bound​​​​​ @jamespotterthefirst​​​​​ @mercury84choices​​​​​ @k2624​​​​​ @kowshikha @sophxwithers​ @itsjustwinter @ramseysrookiex​

[carynnhalen]

Club Olympus was one of Carynn’s favorite spots in Gotham to visit. Usually because security was lax and it was easy to sneak in without paying the cover fee. Maxie Zeus was doing another stint in Arkham, and that meant it would be easy to score free drinks. Carynn weaved her way through the crowd of dancing people and headed for the bar, shoving her way between a couple of frat boys who were trying to work up the courage to ask Deadshot for a photo.

The guy behind the bar sent her a nod in greeting. “Sup, Carynn. You workin’?” his name was Nick. She’d met him a few years ago when he worked in a hole in the wall bar Josie’s that was in Hells Kitchen. He was nice enough. He was one of the only guys Carynn knew that still had a mohawk, but he was nice enough. 

Carynn scrunched her nose, shaking her head. “Taking the night off,” she shouted over the music. “Needed some peace and quiet.” 

Nick laughed, setting two glasses out in front of her. “The usual?” it was a rhetorical question. Nick filled one glass to the brim with whiskey, the top shelf option tonight, and the other filled with a vodka soda. “You stay out of trouble.” he said with a wink, pushing the two glasses towards her. 

“Always do! Later, Nick.” she scooped up her drinks, expertly heading back through the crowd and up to a balcony that usually served to be a little more quiet than the rest of the club. She hadn’t really had much of a plan for her night off. Mostly she just needed to blow off some steam. Between Captain America showing up to her apartment, and her phone ringing almost non stop with calls from Bruce, things were getting a little too mysterious and heavy all at once. 

Carynn plopped down in a booth, her kicking up her booted feet up onto the table. Taking a generous sip of her vodka soda, she pulled her phone out of her jacket and unlocked the screen. More calls from Bruce. A text from Cel. A few notifications from Dante commenting on her Instagram. 

She scrolled through her contacts; Bruce (even though she kept deleting and blocking his number it still seemed to find it’s way back onto her phone), Cel, Dante, Oliver, a few numbers of work contacts...was that it? Carynn sighed, downing the rest of her drink and picking up the glass of whiskey.

“I see you still have no manners.” a voice said in Russian just before Carynn’s feet were shoved off of the table.

Carynn’s frowned, looking up from her phone. “What the fuck do you think you’re-...oh, Christ. It’s you,” she rolled her eyes at the woman that was now sliding into the booth across from her. “Shouldn’t you be off somewhere skinning a puppy or something?”

Isabel Rochev. She was the current owner of Queen Industries and a certified nutjob. She smiled sweetly at Carynn, almost like she was happy to see her. She folded her gloved hands onto the table, leaning towards Carynn with interest. The large rock that had once belonged to Oliver’s mother was almost blinding in the flickering lights above them. 

“I’ve missed you too, Carynn.” she said again in Russian, passing a glance over her shoulder quickly before looking back at the red head. “You are hard to find. Not because you’re in hiding, but because you can’t seem to sit still. I almost thought I’d have to forego my little proposition.” 

“You could tell me Keanu Reeves is downstairs waiting to use me as a chew toy. I’d still tell you to fuck off, Isabel.” Carynn said, kicking her feet back up onto the table. 

Isabel laughed a genuine laugh. Like they were good friends catching up. “Unfortunately, that is not the offer I have for you. My contacts have told me that Oliver is on his way back to Gotham. I was hoping you and I could come to an...agreement. I know you and Oliver are not in the best of places. And I know that for the right price you remove problems.” 

Carynn had to admit, this was a first. She’d never really expected anyone to offer her cash to off Oliver. And maybe, if it had been anyone else sitting across from her, she might have considered the job. “If you want him gone you should do it yourself. Nothing says girl boss like killing your sugar daddy’s son...” she frowned, tilting her head. “Was he your sugar daddy? I’ve never really understood your relationship, at least aside from him definitely being married to someone else the entire time...” 

Isabel pursed her lips. “Do not patronize me, Carynn. You and I are far more alike than you will ever admit. You know this deep down. I am offering you a solution to both of our problems.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Carynn spat. “And Oliver isn’t my problem anymore. I don’t waste time thinking about him. I have bigger shit to worry about.”

“Well, what are these problems? Perhaps I can help you. We could form a partnership. Take what belongs to us. I have come a long way since I last saw you-” Isabel looked to her right, into the crowd below them. She visibly froze, her eyes set on something. 

Carynn leaned forward, trying to follow Isabel’s gaze. She couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The bar was a little less crowded now. Carynn could spot one of the exit doors nearby. There was someone standing next to it. She couldn’t really make him out. Long, dark hair. A leather jacket. The black mask covering his nose and mouth stood out the most, but in a place like Gotham it was definitely not the craziest thing she’d seen. 

Isabel looked over her shoulder once more, nodding quickly. A tall man, who Carynn assumed had to be Isabel’s security, stepped towards them. He looked down into the crowd, surveying the area before speaking into an earpiece. Isabel turned her attention back to Carynn, her smile more nervous now than genuine. 

“I must go. Something has come up...please, think of my offer,” she set her clutch on the table, fishing through it before pulling out a business card. “This is where you can reach me. The number is safe, don’t worry. I hope to hear from you soon, Carynn.” 

Carynn watched Isabel walk off with her security guard before sinking down further into her seat and groaning. So much for peace and quiet. She picked up the card, rolling her eyes at the idea of taking up Isabel’s offer. Another number to put in my phone, at least, Carynn thought with a sigh. 

She tossed back the rest of her drink, slipping her phone and Isabel’s card back into her pocket before sliding out of the booth. Maybe she’d go to another club, maybe she’d head home, she wasn’t sure yet. 

Carynn headed downstairs, waving at Nick before slipping out of the same exit that Isabel’s mysterious friend had been standing next to just a few moments before. Carynn didn’t really care who he was to Isabel. Maybe he was some pissed off ex boyfriend, maybe he wanted to kill her. Who could really know? Carynn just didn’t want any part of whatever shit storm Isabel was no doubt stirring up. 

The alleyway outside of the club was quiet tonight. Usually there were a few people milling around, someone puking into the dumpster or arguing about what club to hit up next. Maybe it was still too early for that. Or maybe Batman was out patrolling and had spooked them all. 

The closer she got to the mouth of the alley, Carynn realized she could hear another heartbeat. It was slow, very quiet. Maybe someone passed out in the trash? That was definitely nothing she hadn’t seen before. She slowed down a little, pulling her phone out to pretend she was busy as she approached the dumpster. 

The smell wafting from it nearly smacked her across the face. It wasn’t a bad smell. Completely the opposite. Sort of a smoky yet spicy smell that made her mouth water like in the fall when Pauli’s Diner was serving pumpkin pie. Carynn leaned forward to try and get a look at whoever it was hiding by the dumpster. 

Something hit her like freight train. 

Carynn had been completely caught off guard. Her back smacked against the brick wall, pain radiating down her spine. Her attacker’s hand was around her throat, the gloved hand making her gurgle as she struggled to breathe. Her vision blurred in and out, but she could just barely make out the man that Isabel had been watching just minutes ago. 

“How do you know Isabel? What were you discussing?” more Russian, great. This was very, very, very not good. 

His hand was like an iron clamp around her throat. She couldn’t speak even if she wanted to. Carynn reached out, swiping blindly at his face to scratch him. 

Mister tall, dark and creepy let her go with an eye roll. Carynn slouched against the wall, coughing. “Talk.” he spat. 

He had gotten the upper hand on her once, that much she could admit. That wasn’t something that would happen again. “I don’t know anything,” Carynn snapped back in English. “It’s not like we’re friends. She’s a pain in the ass...! Look, I don’t want any trouble, okay? I don’t really have much info-”

She pulled the knife she had clipped to her belt free and lunged forward. Her mystery man moved quickly, but not quickly enough. The blade pierced through his jacket, grazing his skin. 

He grabbed her throat again, slamming Carynn back into the brick wall. She’d been expecting something like that. She grabbed her knife, getting a better grip of it and kicking her feet up against his chest and using all of her weight to shove him away. 

Carynn rushed forward, Dark and Emo blocking her physical blows easily. He moved just as quickly as she did. Now that they were both fully alert, it was difficult for either of them to get a good hit in. Carynn noticed that he didn’t guard his left arm as vigorously as his right, and she saw a window of opportunity. 

She tried to bury her knife into his left bicep. It ripped through his jacket, but the sound that was almost like nails on a chalkboard made Carynn flinch and jump back from him. The blade of her knife had been almost snapped in half. “What the fuck...” she muttered, tossing the dagger aside. 

Her opponent leaned down, pulling a large, tactical knife that was strapped to his boots. He lunged towards her, Carynn throwing her arms up in front of her to block his swing. She kicked down hard at his shin, throwing him slightly off balance as he tossed the knife from one hand to his other, the blade stabbing through her jacket.

Carynn slipped down and around him, jumping onto his back. Her legs wrapped tightly around his wait, she put him into a headlock. Terminator man didn’t seem very panicked, regardless of his airway being cut off. He spun around, slamming Carynn into the wall a few times in an attempt of knocking her off of him. 

Her grip around his throat loosened, instead she decided to try and pull his mask off to get a better look at who was trying to attack her. Unfortunately that distraction left her open, and the man sunk his knife into her thigh. Carynn screamed out in pain, her opponent tossing her off of him easily.

She landed on the ground with a thud. She had to move quickly. He was stomping towards her, his hands clenched at his sides. Carynn ripped the knife from her leg with a grunt. This would definitely slow her down. She couldn’t afford to be slow. 

Carynn tossed the knife. It was better to keep him from it than having it to defend herself. The Masked Douchebag bent forward to grab her ankle. Carynn kicked at him, but he easily smacked her leg away. He lifted her up, slamming her into the wall. Carynn fell face down, groaning loudly. Get up, get up, get up, she told herself. 

The sound of boots stomping towards her made her panic. She reached inside of her bra as the stranger picked her up by her jacket, pulling out the pocket knife she kept there. Before he could throw her again, she plunged the knife into his side. This time it did more damage than ruining his clothes. 

He dropped her, grunting in pain and anger. Carynn used the distraction to push herself up off the ground, rushing away towards the dumpster to put distance between them. Her leg gave out from under her, and she fell into a pile of trash bags. 

Her opponent pulled the knife from his side, once again tossing it aside and heading straight for Carynn. She scrambled backwards, freezing at the sound of a phone ringing. The two went still, looking at each other as the ringing filled the alley way. 

The man reached into his jacket, pulling a flip phone out. “We have spotted the target. Enough of whatever it is you are doing. Get to the bottom of whatever Isabel has planned.” someone said on the other line. 

“Yes sir,” the Masked Asshole said. “Send me the address. I will find her.” he closed his phone, his eyes trained on Carynn. And as quickly as the altercation had started, it was suddenly over. He turned, grabbing his knife from the ground and wiping it clean on his pants. Without looking back at her, he strolled off and out of the alley way as if nothing had happened.

Carynn let out a loud, relieved sigh and sank back into the trash bags. “Holy fuck that hurts,” she hissed out, grabbing at her thigh. Her hands were covered in warm, sticky blood. “These are my favorite pants...I’m gonna find you you goddamn bastard!” she shouted after the stranger. 

She groaned, pulling out her phone. She would heal eventually, but now there was no way she’d be able to make it home on her own. And taxi drivers didn’t like it so much when you bled all over their seats. She opened up a new message, pinging her location and typing the word help to Dante. 

“I fucking hate this city.” she sighed, leaning back to look up at the starry sky above her.

[peach-the-owl]

Into a World of Chaos

Artagan & Child!Reader

Request: Artagan. Love this archfey. Him finding a child who is actually very serious kid who doesn't have fun a lot because of having to rely on themselves and Artagan just being like "Oh I am going to turn their life upside down. It's gonna be chaos."

Fingers crossed this turned out as good as I envisioned

Another day of spreading marvellous mischief to unsuspecting folks, as entertaining as it was the archfey was looking for something new to spice things up. Sure he was technically a "god" with followers but what fun would it be to mess with the people who already cause chaos in your name, so to speak. No, Artagan wanted something different, a new sort of project to bring in entertainment for him. Then one day you step into the picture, a young child who'd rather learn the differences in what plants were edible over playing around in the fields. You were a lone wolf, a forager, you were the absolute opposite of Jester and the perfect target for chaos to ensue. Artagan wanted to keep it to small inconvenience for you, like placing your bag where you hadn’t originally put it, enjoying how you’d react until you finally find it. Another thing he liked to do was leave a pile of rocks outside your little shelter, both tripping you up and throwing you off in the early mornings. He also wanted to be sure you didn’t see him yet, he didn’t know if you were aware of who he was or his little cult, although that was unlikely and he was just being over dramatic.

You were getting fed up with this mysterious troublemaker, you knew they were there seeing glimpses of wild red hair or a flash of green eyes. Today you had a plan and were gonna try and catch this person in the act and get yourself some answers. You place down your backpack, it seemed to be the main target for whoever this was, take out a few items you didn’t want to lose and pretend to go about other things you wait patiently for a minute, then another until you hear the soft shifting of foliage.

"Aha!" You whip around and just catch the image of a tall, cloaked man before they disappear from plain sight. "I know you’re there! So stop being a coward and show yourself!" You call, you wait in silence for what feels like an eternity.

"Calling someone a coward is quite rude don’t you think?" A voice suddenly says right next to you making jump back in surprise.

"Who are you and why do you keep moving my things." You cross your arms and give a hard stare at the man now standing in front of you.

"I am known as the Traveler to many." He gives you a bow, you just raise an unamused eyebrow at him.

"Is that your name or something?" He just gives you an amused smirk, you frown. "Look mister Traveler or whoever you are, I don’t have time for your weird games so if you just leave me alone-"

"No time for games? There's always time for a game, and here I thought kids liked games."

"Well not this kid. I have other things to worry about." You huff going to retrieve your bag again only to trip on an overgrown root, stumbling forward a bit but able to catch yourself from completely falling. You hear a chuckle come from the cloaked man, seeing him wave his hand slightly which draws you to believe he had something to do with it.

"Oh, this is going to be fun." He says as you give him a pointed glare…

Fun was not the word you’d use to describe the next few weeks, sure you grew to tolerate the archfey and his antics but they still annoyed and sometimes hindered you. Also yes you discovered that he was in fact of the Feywild and that his real name wasn’t the Traveler but Artagan. He seemed to like telling you all this, much to your own dismay, as he didn't have to pretend to be a deity like he would for his followers seeing as you didn’t care.

"You know, you are a very strange child." You're startled by the sudden sound of his voice, hearing a familiar chuckle follow soon after.

"And you need to stop appearing out of nowhere when I’m trying to make camp." You reply, clutching your chest to try and steady your beating heart.

"See this is exactly what I mean, children don’t normally worry about such things as making shelter and instead run around chasing butterflies or whatever else their sticky little fingers can get a hold of. You act far too old for someone your age." He takes a seat on a nearby rock and watches you continue to make your little tent.

"Well I’m not like other kids, in case you haven’t noticed I don’t have anyone to help me with this. I have to do everything by myself so there’s no time to play." You say focusing on your task. There’s a slight pressure that appears on your shoulder and you’re slowly pulled away from your work making you look up sceptically at Artagan.

"Oh don’t think this as me wanting to help." He raises his arms up in defence, you just roll your eyes. "No no, rather I think it’s high time you have a break and learn how to have some fun again." He then picks you up and carries you away from your campsite.

"Hey!? Where are we going?" You ask shocked by the action.

"Like I said, you’re going to learn how to have fun." He gives you a playful smirk.

"What about my stuff? Don’t you have followers or whatever to worry about and bother instead?" You bring up, reminding him of his position.

"We'll return here when we're done and I can be in several places at once so it’s fine, now enough whining there’s chaos to spread." He brushes you off. A part of you didn’t trust this in the slightest, yet another part still held onto curiosity for whatever he had planned. Your brought over to a farmhouse not too far from the woods you were residing in and give a quizzical look up at the archfey.

"So what? Do you expect me to scare the cattle or something?"

"Something like that, yes." He gives an amused hum.

"I was being sarcastic." You say monotonously.

"Really? You can be sarcastic?" He counters playfully earning a quick glare from you. "Well I’m not. Now go on, show me what you can do." He places you down and nudges you forward. You swat at his hands and walk onto the pasture, letting out a few signs along the way wondering why you were actually going to do this. The cattle in the field towered over you, peacefully eating away at the grass.

"How the heck am I supposed to scare you." You wonder aloud. "Why do I have scare you?… Why am I talking to myself?" You sigh again, this archfey was making you go crazy. You try flailing your arms around and making loud random noises with no success, only making you feel like a weirdo. "Do something!" You yell, throwing your hands up in exasperation, you then feel a strange energy course through you and a beam of greenish light blast out of your hand into the sky. This startles both you and several nearby cattle, who fall onto their sides in shock while you stare dumbfounded at your hand.

"Hey, who’s messin' with ma cows!" You hear the farmer shout and make a beeline back to the forest. You don’t stop running until you reach your little campsite again where a waiting Artagan stood.

"That was a delightful display you put on there. Did you like my gift?" He asks once you’re close enough.

"Gift? What did you do to me?!" You ask still stunned.

"I’ve given you the ability to cast spells like that Eldrich Blast, congratulations little (y/n) you are now a Warlock." You stare at him wide eyed, this was a huge game changer, but you couldn’t decide if it was for better or worse.

"Oh come now, you have to admit that was pretty fun." He looks down at you expectantly. You try to hold a straight face as everything sinks in but end up coughing out a giggle a small smile on your face. "My word, is that a smile I see?" He raises an eyebrow at you.

"I- no… maybe." You admit, scratching at the back of your head with a slight blush on your cheeks.

"See you are enjoying yourself, I knew you had the makings of a troublemaker in you." Artagan says triumphantly, a smug look on his face. You lightly punch his arm being too short to reach his shoulder.

"Yeah whatever, there’s no need to rub it in."

"That’s exactly why I have to." He gives you a knowing look as you let out a groan.

Weeks slowly grew into months, Artagan seemed to grow more and more comfortable around you, even lightening up on the pranks and while you didn’t want to admit it you were starting to enjoy the archfey's company. Sure he was still annoying whenever he’d decide to make an appearance but he also made you realize how nice it was to have someone around. Not to mention whenever he’d pay you a visit you slowly grew more willing to take breaks and enjoy the simplicity of being a kid, it felt nice. But of course there’s always those grey clouds somewhere in the sky just waiting to make their presents known.

"What do you keep in that little bag of yours? I’ve never bothered to see for myself but you’re always so protective over it. Hiding something devious?" He asks you out of the blue one day, he did this often, asking random questions, so it was no surprise to you.

"My supplies and personal items, and that’s all you need to know." You reply plain and simply making your way down to a riverbank to clean off some dirt and hopefully catch yourself a meal.

"And if I wished to know more?" He questions.

"Not something I want to talk about, so don’t even bother." You narrow your eyes at him as you place down your things and start washing yourself off of all the dirt and grim on you. Despite this he takes it upon himself to rummage through your bag a little taking out items like your medical kit, a short sword you use for survival and a few other miscellaneous things. The most notable, and what really got your attention on him was when he pulled out a simple little necklace.

"What an odd little amulet." Artagan says, looking over the necklace making you instantly go into a mini panic mode.

"Hey! Be careful with that! You're gonna break it, give it back!" You try to grab it from him but he just extends his arm so it’s farther from your reach.

"Not until you tell me what it is." He gives a playful smirk, you were having none of it today.

"It was a gift, now give it back." You helplessly jump up and down trying to grab for it, he gives an amused laugh.

"It’s quite old," he says squinting at the jewelry, taking a closer look, "and honestly quite worthless too. It's rather plain, just cheap material and not even the slightest bit of engravings. Can’t imagine why you’re so worked up over it."

"Who cares, just give it back!" You were growing more and more desperate and frustrated. He shrugs and just drops the item in your general direction, you practically leaping to try and catch it. Unfortunately you react too slow and there’s a soft shattering sound as the necklace made contact against a rock, you crashing to the ground feeling the cool water from the river splash into your face. Slowly, stiffly you stand up again staring down at the broken medallion. The chain had broken off and was already getting washed away by the river, the medallion itself was broken into three large pieces with smaller pieces having broken off and also being carried away by the flowing water. "Whoops, well I did tell you it was cheap material." He says matter-of-factly.

"You broke it, you jerk! Why couldn’t you listen to me for once! Get out of here, leave me alone!" You turn and scream at the archfey, your blood felt like it was boiling out of anger.

"It's just a silly old thing, there’s no need to be so ra-" He’s cut off by an Eldrich Blast missing his head by inches. He gives you a glare and sees you giving one back much more intensely. "I was the one who gifted those abilities to you, I could take them away just as easily." He says evenly.

"Go ahead! I never wanted them in the first place! I was doing just fine on my own until you came along!" You snap back sharply, you then turn on your heel and march away.

"I’m not done with you child." He calls. You don’t say anything, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of an answer and continue stomping away. "Fine! I don’t need you, I’ve got followers who respect me." Artagan watches you disappear further into the woods, you weren’t going to be his problem anymore. He huffs stubbornly, so what if you didn’t care about his godly facade and he could just be himself. Who cares if you gave it to him straight rather then heed to his every word. What did he care that you were starting to warm up to him… treat him more as a friend… didn’t expect to get anything out of it. He lets out a long exaggerated sigh, guess Jester really was rubbing off on him. "Feelings, why did it have to be feelings." He mumbles to himself looking down at the broken pieces of the necklace, an idea then pops into his mind and he begins to gather up the different pieces.

You sit yourself on a log a few feet off the ground, your legs dangling below you and sniffle, that necklace had been the last gift your parents gave you before being killed from a raiding group of bugbears, you shudder at the memory. Stupid Artagan, always putting himself in places he shouldn’t be, then again you didn’t really explain yourself very well either. Still it was your personal stuff, he shouldn’t be toying with it unless you said it was okay. You hear the slight rustling of foliage catching movement coming towards you at the corner of your eye, you already knew who it was and turn away from him.

"Why don’t we have a proper talk about this instead of giving me the silent treatment, a bit childish don’t you think?" He starts.

"I’m sorry, I thought you wanted me to be more childish." You mock bitterly.

"I uhhh, I had that coming." He awkwardly clears his throat. "I’m going to be forward with you, I’m not… the best at this kinda stuff."

"If you’re trying to make me feel better you’re doing a really bad job then." You mumble, scooting further away from him.

"Well maybe if you…" He starts to retort but trails off on seeing your saddened expression. Pressing his hands together in thought Artagan had to really think through what he wanted to say next. He lets out a big sigh. "I… apologize for my rash behaviour, I suppose I overstepped myself in your personal boundaries." You slightly turn towards him with a side glance. "I meant no harm, truly. In fact, I have something that I think will make up for it." He then holds out his hand to you. Turning a little more you see your necklace resting in the palm of his hand making you fully turn to him and slowly take it from his hand, looking over the mended pieces you can’t help but feel a strange energy emitting from the reformed amulet.

"You actually fixed it, for me?" You finally look at him in curiosity.

"Yes, granted it may be infused with my boon so by accepting it you have officially agreed to be in a pact with me." You roll your eyes at this.

"Well pact or not this is actually very nice of you." You say, giving a small yet genuine smile as you place the necklace on around your neck.

"I've come to learn that things in life are usually temporary, with a beginning and an end to them at one point or another so I think it’s best to enjoy them while they’re here. That goes for the few I could call my friends." He looks off into the distance. You could tell he was being sincere with you both from the shift of his tone and attitude, a devious little thought then came to your head.

"You know, for someone who loves to pull pranks and cause trouble you really seem to know how to be serious when you want to… or maybe I’m finally rubbing off on you." You say cheekily.

"I can be serious when I want to…… wait." You can’t help but go into a fit of giggles when his face lights up in realization. "You sly little…" He lets himself trail off.

"Hey don’t look at me, you're the one who taught me what I know in that department." You say nonchalantly with a shrug.

[tomtenadia]

Island Dreams - Chapter 11

Hi all,

Chapter 11 is here. So far this is my favourite. Rowan and Aelin go on the adventure he promised her and... well... there is fluff. Almost 5k words of fluff.

Aelin get to listen to Rowan's favourite groups. One of them is called Peat and Diesel. The guys are from Stornoway and I LOVE them. Their music is super original and fun. In this youtube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZM6qAiZZKA you have an introduction of them. Listen to their accents and you have an idea how people on the Western Isles talk and the guy with the red jumper (Innes) has the kind of accent that Rowan has in the story. 3 of my favourite songs: Western Isles: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zo2zuDxqf6A This video is hilarious and the guy go around Stornoway. My Islands: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EoLBnk05ris&t=89s Stornoway: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=efx_4YxLFRc

Peat and Diesel have been a constant soundtrack while writing this fic.

The second group are Runrig. Alas they are now retired but they have been playing for decades and they are the first Scottish group I have discovered once I moved to Scotland. I have seen them live and they were incredible. They sing in both English and Gaelic.

Happy reading and for once may the fluff be with you <3

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At 6am next morning, Aelin was in front of her house with her backpack strapped on her shoulders and all ready to go. The forecast for the day was meant to be wonderful with really high temperatures for Scotland. A heat wave, the meteorologists had announced. She was wearing shorts and a nice polo shirt and a baseball cap with a Saltire on that she bought at the tourist office. She probably looked ridiculous but she did not care. A text from Rowan came, announcing that he was on his way and five minutes later his car finally arrived. “Took you long enough.” Aelin commented while jumping in the car. “I was my aunt’s place to gather food. And knowing you, it had to be a lot.” Aelin punched his arm and he laughed in response. Once at the terminal they parked at the front and they both went inside the terminal to buy the tickets. Aelin was about to go ahead and order them but Rowan blocked her “my treat.” He said. With tickets in hands they returned to the car and joined the queue of vehicles ready to check-in and board. “This is so exciting.”

“Only a tourist like you would find the embarkation process exciting.” He joked and flipped her hat with his hand, making it fly. “And this tourist here is going to get a fridge magnet as well.” She replied while putting her baseball hat back on in defiance. Around 7.30 it was finally time to get on board. After they left the car on the car deck they climbed back on the passenger deck and Aelin dragged Rowan outside. “No way I am staying cooped up.” “It’s going to be cold.” He told her zipping up her jacket in a very protective manner. “I spent the entire journey here on the deck. And it was a bit cooler than now. You point is not valid.” He raised his hand in defeat “It’s your freezing ass.” He removed his windbreaker and Aelin noticed that her was wearing the university of Glasgow hoodie that she had stolen from him. “That’s my hoodie.” She protested. “You asked me to make sure it smell like me again. I am just following procedure.” She snuggled to him and inhaled his scent “A couple of more days, then it’s mine again?” Rowan laughed “Fine.” The ferry finally started to move and Aelin turned to the aft side of the boat and very dramatically she started waving at the people at the pier. Rowan followed her. He hadn’t been this excited by a trip in ages. And it was all thanks to her. Aelin leaned against the handrail, her face half turned and her hair flowing freely and in that instant Rowan took his camera out and snapped some picture of her. “Someone had a fancy camera.” She took a step to him to have a look at the picture he had just taken and was impressed. They were super good. “I am just the modern brat who uses her phone.” And she snapped a picture of him smiling. “Yes! I got a good one.” She was planning to take a lot of pictures of Rowan. Lysandra had asked her for some proof that this mysterious man existed and she was going to show her friend. An hour and a half later land was in sight again and they got ready to disembark and Aelin could not contain her excitement and not a long later they were on the road again. Rowan had attached his mp3 player to the car stereo and started playing some music. “This band is called Peat and Diesel, they are from Stornoway and they are one of my favourite groups. I met them once and they are hilarious and very down to earth and their music is brilliant if you are from there, you can relate.” Aelin listened to the tune and had to admit the songs were great. She started to dance in the car and Rowan laughed. “They are awesome.” “They are playing this year at HebCelt I have tickets for their concert…” he offered. “I am coming.” Then she stopped herself “If you want me, of course.” “I’ll think about it.” And he gave her a huge grin. “This song is called Stornoway….” He told her. “I love their style they add the accordion added to rock music. This is brilliant stuff.” “Good,” and his hand went on her knee. They drove for about five minutes, just enough to get out of the town and Rowan pulled over. Aelin was speechless the landscape around her was of barren mountains and in front of her lay this amazing beach. She got off the car and ran out and sat on the bench on the side of the road. The silence around her was incredible. Rowan was at her side a minute later. “This is Ardmair beach.” The he took her arm and pointed ahead “Those over there are called Summer Islands. You can take boat trips to visit them.” Aelin leaned against this shoulder and inhaled his scent mixed with the one of the sea. For ten minutes they sat in silence staring at the sea and listening to the seagulls. “Come on… we still have a bit to drive.” While on the road Aelin’s phone rang and was happy to see it was Lysandra. “Hi darling.” “Hi babe, quick call because I don’t have much time. Aedion and I have a surprise.” Exclaimed the woman at the other end. “Lys, please don’t tell you are pregnant already.” Lysandra laughed “No, Aedion and I have taken holidays.” Aelin grinned “So you are phoning me to tell me that you and mister hot hands are taking two weeks off to have crazy sex? Gee stop bragging.” She turned her head and noticed that Rowan pretended not to listen. In response she put a hand on his leg and his breath hitched at the contact. “No. We re coming to see you. We want to see all those amazing places.” Aelin screamed and almost gave a heart attack to the man at her side. “Ae, I have two minutes. We are coming up soon. I will text you all the details but we are staying for two weeks.” “Good text me everything and we’ll get some adventures organised.” Lysandra squealed on her side of the phone and then hang up to go and have fun in surgery. Aelin looked at Rowan “Lysandra and her boyfriend are coming up for two weeks.” “Given your screams I guessed it was something like that.” She squeezed his leg again and went back to admiring the landscape being amazed at every single corner. An half an hour had passed when Rowan stopped the car again and parked in a small car park. Aelin’s mouth fell open when she noticed the ruins of the castle on the loch. “That is Ardvreck castle.” He told her, getting off the car. Aelin followed and took the hand he offered. “When will this country stop to surprise me?” “Never.” Admitted Rowan “and this part of Scotland is one of the most stunning and the northern we get the wilder and unspoiled it gets.” “Ro, this is incredible.” She left his hand and started walking to the ruins. For a moment he just stared at her in admiration. Stared at her legs and the rest of the ensemble. Lyria had called her a stick, but Rowan disagreed. Aelin had curves and he was dying to get his hands on every single one of them. She turned around and called him and he woke from his revelry. Alas, they did not have the place to themselves and a group of tourists was walking around the ruins as well. “What do you think?” He asked joining her. “I want to climb on it.” “Well, you can’t.” Aelin grumbled something and Rowan let her explore the site. Five minutes later he noticed her talking happily with the group of German tourists. He was jealous of the simplicity with which she could talk to people. When she came back to him she had a smug smiled painted on her face “what did you do?” Asked Rowan expecting the worst. “One of the lady was asking about books. They are coming to Stornoway next week so I told her about our shop.” Our. She probably didn’t even notice the pronoun she used but Rowan felt a deep sense of pride and joy and his traitor mind reminded him that Lyria never called it like that. It was always your shop and when they had fights she would add a damned for emphasis. “We don’t have books in German.” He whispered. “Oh no, she is looking for books in English to practice.” Aelin took his hand “thank you for taking me here.” “The adventure is nor over yet.” He started walking. They crossed to road and he started to walk on the grass and followed the small river. They walked for a bit and then Aelin spotted some small waterfalls. The land was on different levels and the path of the river was broken, thus creating a small series of waterfalls. Rowan sat down on a rock and began opening his backpack. “Lunch time.” Aelin was at his side in seconds. He had made sandwiches for both. That morning he had woken up early and he had prepared a lunch for both. “It’s not a lot but we’ll eat when we get to Lochinver. There is a place where they make the most amazing savoury pies.” “You really know how to woo a woman.” She grabbed the sandwich he passed her and sat down in silence and stared at the water flowing down from the mountains. “Do I get to meet Lysandra?” Aelin munched faster and nodded “She will kill me if she doesn’t get to meet you.” Once done eating Rowan stood and offered her his hand “Come, let’s go. We can a have a long break after we arrive at our final destination. And we need to stop for pies too.” In a second Aelin was up and they walked back to the car. It took them fifteen minutes drive to reach their next stop and Aelin was giddy. Rowan had put more music on and she had discovered another of his favourite groups called Runrig and she fell in love with them. They also sang in Gaelic. She made a mental note to get all this groups from him once back home. Home.Because that’s where she was. And it felt right. A few houses and the hint of a village appeared out of the window and Aelin guessed they were arrived. Rowan pulled into the petrol station “Sorry. My car needs to eat as well.” And he gave a wonderful smile. He was always smiling to her recently and she wished he could do it all the time because it was one of the most beautiful sights she had ever seen. Five minutes later they moved to the car park next to the petrol station and Rowan again offered his hand to her. The Larder was the name of the bistro they were going to. They went inside and sat at a table. “This one is on me. In the end we didn’t finish the meal after winning the bet, so that’s me now buying you the meal I owed you.” “Ro, you don’t have to.” He put a hand on hers and squeezed gently “I know, but I want to.” They were eating their meals when Rowan broke the silence “The local high school asked me to join them on a part time basis as swimming instructor.” Aelin’s hand stopped half way to her mouth and looked at him “No way.” He nodded and she saw a hint of sadness in his eyes. “How do you feel about it?” His hand deposited his fork on the plate and he leaned back on the chair sighing heavily “Torn.” A hand ran through his hair “I want to. I miss it so much. But I don’t know if I can.” Aelin grabbed her chair and moved closer to him and grabbed his hand in hers “Give it a go. Tell them you want to do a trial lesson. See how it goes. How you feel. Then decide.” “It would be for just two mornings a week, and the extra money is a plus.” He gave her a faint smile. “And I will look after the bookshop, so don’t worry about not being able to open. If you trust me, of course.” His face leaned closer and for a brief moment the space between them was very minimal. “I trust you.” Her hand all of a sudden had a life on its own and she found it going straight for his head and ran it through his hair. At the touch he closed his eyes and hummed very lightly. A second later Aelin retracted her hand and blushed furiously but he did not seem mad at the gesture. Quite the opposite, he had a very satisfied grin on his face. She was probably beetroot red just now, but it felt so good. They left the bistro and walked a bit along the promenade in the village, but she was dying to see the next stop and Rowan noticed her urgency. “Fine, fine we’ll go.” She ran back to their car while Rowan took his time walking just to annoy her. “You are such a grandpa.” Fifteen minutes later they stopped in car park and once out of the car she could spot a beach in the very distance and excitement cursed through her. She grabbed her stuff and was all ready to go while Rowan was doing his best to move so slow that a sloth could beat him to it. “Whitethorn!” She barked through gritted teeth. “Such an impatient woman.” He finally locked the car, picked his backpack from the ground and joined her. “I can see a beach. I have no patience.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him. Once they finally reached the sand, Aelin stood transfixed. In front of her opened a bay with sands so white it hurt her eyes and with the waters of a turquoise that could not be real. She was speechless. Also the beach was empty and they were the only two there and that was a bonus. “Welcome to Achmelvich beach.” She finally managed to move, dropped her backpack, removed her shoes and ran to the water. Rowan grabbed her stuff and moved it closer. He lay down a towel and sat down watching her play in the water with the unbridled joy of a kid. She was carefree and she was beautiful. “This is amazing.” She shouted at him while walking the length of the beach. Ten minutes later she was on her way back with a smile that melted his heart. “I just wish the water was not so cold because I’d die to have a swim in those waters.” Rowan patted the towel beside him. Aelin sat and then lay down with her head on his thighs and looked up at him and wondered if she had gone too far but he didn’t seem to fussed. They had been getting much closer but she still wasn’t sure how far she could go with her affections. She almost had a heart attack in the bistro when she brushed her hand in his hair. “Ro…” “Hm?” His voice sounded peaceful and she looked up and noted that his eyes were closed and he had a peaceful smile on his face. “Where do we stand?” “What do you mean?” “You and I. What is this?” Rowan sighed. He had been asking himself the same question for a few days now. There was definitely something there. Something more than friendship, but he could not define what it was exactly. “Are we friends? More? A couple? Because we have been behaving like one.” His hand brushed her hair and traced the line of her forehead “I don’t know, Fireheart.” She sighed and felt the same frustration as him. “You still have Elias. You two are still going out.” “We are not…” she paused “I mean, we are not a couple. And I need to talk to him.” She lifted her hand and with the back of it she brushed his cheek. “Why don’t we take it slowly. See how it goes, figure out our feelings and not put a label on it just yet?” He looked down at her. He could do that and it was probably the best way to go. Not rush things for once. Take their time. “But can I still do this?” And his hand traced her arms then reached her neck. His thumb continued his journey to her lips and brushed them gently while the hand cupped her cheek. Then he bent over and placed the chastest kiss in history on her lips and Aelin’s heart raced madly in her chest. It was brief and barely a kiss but it sent shivers all down her spine and she wanted more but she didn’t press. The hand left her cheek and moved down again tracing the length of her arm, until his fingers twined in hers “I like doing this.” “We can just be Aelin and Rowan for now. Status undecided.” And he heard her chuckle. Aelin nodded “A Buzzard and his Fireheart. What do you think? Way more epic.” She offered as an alternative. He brought her hand to his lips while still in his and kissed it “I love it very,” a kiss “very,” another one “much.” Aelin giggled and then her stare turned serious again “I am not going back to London.” And he stared at her almost understanding the weight of her admission. A selfish part of him had been hoping for that. Another reason why he didn’t want to make things official with her. He could not bear the idea of getting into a relationship and having to let her go back to her old life. And the idea of a long distance relationship was out of the question. “I feel like I don’t belong there anymore.” She continued and he let her “Not when I am currently living in a corner of paradise, where life seem to have slow down to a point that on the islands everything is closed on a Sunday. Where there so much nature around me and I feel like a can breath again. After a month I crave all of this desperately and the idea of going back to my old frenetic life… I don’t think I can do it anymore.” She closed her eyes and a pained expression was on her face “I can’t go back to all that. And definitely not to my old job.” Another deep breath “I have been looking for jobs here, at the hospital, but there is nothing at the moment.” “Aelin, that’s great.” He caressed her head “Something will come up. There is always a shortage of doctors on the islands.” “Will you be mad at me if I leave the bookshop?” Rowan gave her a huge smile “No. You go and follow your dream. If a job comes up you go for it.” And he meant it. Lyria had left him because she was bored and the job was only a way for her to make some money. Aelin was different, she would be going back to her dream job. And the fact that she asked meant she cared. “I can come and help from time to time, you know? Your display need my mastery touch.” Rowan erupted in laughter “My displays were doing okay before you arrived.” “Aye, but now they are doing great.” She sat up in front of him and resisted the urge to kiss her, more deeply this time. He shook the thought away and stood “Come, there is another thing I want to show you.” They grabbed their stuff and Rowan began walking on the rocky formation until they reached what looked like a small fortified construction. “That’s a weird building.” “That’s Hermit’s castle. Europe’s smallest castle.” He helped her navigate safely the rocky formation. “Gee, that is small.” He came behind her and his arms went around her waist “it’s quite a fun place and the views are incredible.” He grabbed her hand and pointed at the mountains at the horizon “that peak over there is called Suilven.” Aelin turned to face him “Can we go inside this castle?” “I knew you were going to ask it.” He took her hand and guided her back to the entrance “Be careful, it can be slippery.” She followed him into the entrance and noticed that he almost had to bend over to get access and laughed at him. “The joys of being short.” She mocked him. They spent a bit of time exploring the ruins “This is one of the weirdest places I have ever been to.” Once they were out Aelin sat on the cliffside and enjoyed the view. Rowan towered over her and was taking pictures, mostly of her when she was not looking in his direction. When her expression was natural. He sat beside her “You have three options now: one, we go to Clachtoll beach nearby, a bit smaller but still super lovely. Option two we get back into the car and we drive to a lighthouse, three we do both but we can’t linger too long because we have to drive all the way back to Ullapool for our ferry back home.” “I’ll take three.” “Good. So, get your arse of this rock and let’s go.” She jumped on her feet and followed him back to the car. Five minutes later they had reached their next destination and she was glad Rowan was the one driving. The roads were far too small for her and although she was getting used to it, she was still very apprehensive. He, on the other hand drove with the experience of someone who had driven along those small roads all his adult life. They took a nice stroll on the beach and Aelin again had to walk in the water and Rowan followed her. “We should come back to this part of Scotland… for… a longer vacation.” His eyes bulged in surprise and his heart fluttered. She was already thinking longterm and he realised that probably they were more involved than either of them had the guts to admit. Truth was… he had been thinking about something like that all day. Having a proper holiday with her and show her the north west of Scotland. Show her some of his favourite spots. “If you are deemed worthy of having me as a tour guide.” He joked and with his foot he splashed her on the legs and as revenge she did the same. “Such a mean old man.” “And you are a brat.” But you are my brat. “Come on menace, out of the water. I want to go to the lighthouse and then on our way back.” “Yes, sir. At your orders, sir.” She gave him a military salute and in her response he pushed her out of the water . “You will be the death of me.” And shook his head on his way back to the car. Twenty minutes later they reached the lighthouse and its position was just as dramatic as the one at the Butt of Lewis, with the Minch right in front of her. The wind had picked up and it was cold again. As if on cue Rowan arrived with her jacket in his hands “Put this on,” he pulled the jacket around her and zipped it up “Don’t get sick because I am not playing nurse with you.” And he grinned at those words. Mean her lips mouthed to him while he worked on the zip and for a second he stared at those lips and thought about the chaste kiss he had given her on the beach. He had a different idea altogether about what he would do to them. They reached the edge, and Rowan pulled her against his chest “Be careful, it’s quite a drop and the wind is savage. Stay away from the edge.” “You don’t need a jacket?” “I am used to this, I am fine.” He hugged her tighter and she enjoyed the heat emanating from his body. “See over there? That thin stretch of land?” He pointed at the horizon. The wind had cleared the sky so much that she could see land on the other side of the Minch. “That’s home.” At that word she put her hand on his and squeezed. She was enjoying the view but when she started shivering Rowan pulled her to the car “It’s cold. Plus we have an hour and a half drive back to Ullapool and I want to be there in good time for the ferry.” The drive back felt like it took longer than on the way out, probably because she knew the adventure was almost over and she wanted to spend even more time with him exploring. They made it back to Ullapool with a few hours to spare and Rowan showed her around the town and he took her to the town’s bookshop and they both ended up buying some books, like the two book addicts they were. Then Rowan took her for a coffee when he noticed her shivering and bought her a slice of chocolate cake. An hour later they were back in the car and in line to get on the ferry. “I really like these Peat and Diesel guys.” She commented while listening to his music. “They make me want to dance.” Rowan in response extended his arm and caressed her head and she almost purred. Once on the boat they stayed inside. The weather had turned all of a sudden and the wind had become quite bad and it was far too cold to be on the deck and Rowan convinced Aelin to take a seat and stay inside. He took a book out while Aelin leaned against his shoulder and almost instantly fell asleep. An arm went around her shoulder and pulled her closer to a more comfortable position and relished in the beauty of her body against his. The book forgotten, he now stared at her and her face was one of pure bliss. His thumb very gently stroked her cheek and then turned his neck and kissed the top the her head and lingered there for a moment inhaling her wonderful scent. She had been so cold that she had reclaimed her hoodie back and he was more than happy to oblige. He was tired of restraining himself. He realised sometimes that day that he was done pretending he did not feel anything for her. He wanted her. Badly. But until she had sorted her situation with Elias he could not do anything. And a pang of jealousy surged through him. He tried to read one more time but his mind could not concentrate, so he closed the book and decided to take a nap as well.

“Aelin,” he shook her gently as soon as the boat had started the docking procedure “we are almost home.” “Hm?” Then Aelin looked outside the porthole and noticed the familiar image of Stornoway’s marina. “Shit, did I sleep the whole time?” “We both did.” Rowan stood and gathered their stuff “Let’s go.” Rowan drove her home. It was past 9pm by the time they got back but it was so bright it was day but she felt exhausted. She had the most amazing day with him. “Rest, and I will see you tomorrow.” She brushed his hand and wished him a good night. Once back in the house she collapsed on the sofa exhausted. She finally remembered her mobile and when she looked at the screen she noticed two missed calls from Elias and a few text from him. It was Sunday for him as well and he was exploring the city and he had sent her some picture of places he had been and the complained that he missed her and that adventures without her were boring. Then she read the last message and her heart sank. He was coming back in a few days in the afternoon and he had invited her to dinner.

She threw the mobile on the sofa and went for a shower. And the more she thought the more she could not find a way to leat him down without hurting him.

[doctors-star]

“Yeah, I can see how hiding behind a rock is a much better strategy.” for Cowboys??

Sometimes, Ainsel feels that they and Edelweiss are coming to some kind of understanding. That, perhaps, Edelweiss is the type of horse with whom it was possible to have some kind of normal relationship, and generally not the sort of creature to possess too-clever eyes and be prone to depositing Ainsel without memories somewhere they shouldn’t be.

These times are infrequent, and they do not ever last.

Rarely, though, has Ainsel taken quite so strongly against the concept of horses altogether, Edelweiss or otherwise. Normally, their lack of particular equine affinity is not an issue, given that they never need to travel that fast, but in consequence they never did learn how to sit or stand when Edelweiss’ legs are really pumping, apparently delighted at this taste of freedom and the wind in her mane; Ainsel is being galloped across the desert like a bag of jumbled bones with their head tucked in behind Edelweiss’ ear and their fingers wrapped white around the pommel, clinging on for dear life. The sand is kicking up on the wind and spitting against any exposed skin, so their eyes are more like slits and are streaming wildly and all they can really see of the desert and sky is a blur of orange and blue.

The jolting is going to shake their kneecaps right out of their legs. Their spine will be compressed by six inches by the time they get off. Ainsel hates horses, just now.

And then, without any input from Ainsel, Edelweiss is slowing to a gentle trot and then a lazy stop. Ainsel puts their head up a little to push the horse on further, because they have someone to urgently find and no delay can be had - but then they blink, and their sandblasted, watery vision coalesces into the very face of the man they had ridden out to find. When the ringing in their ears from being so thoroughly shaken dissipates too, they can hear Will murmuring to Edelweiss and petting her nose as he casts worried glances at her rider. Ainsel winces; what a clattering they must have made, to pull Will unprompted from his observations.

Ainsel unpeels their fingers from the pommel and attempts to straighten up. The pain is immediate and terrible, lancing up and down their shaken spine, and they list worryingly to one side; they slide into a pair of wiry arms, so they assume Will is rescuing them, but it’s hard to tell, what with the white-out of pain. They end up on the floor, Will being altogether too small to lift anyone over the age of eight, with Williams crouched near their head and looking worried. “Howdy,” Ainsel grits out politely. Will’s frown worsens.

“Alright, who’s done what now,” he says, eyes tracking the length of them as they stretch slowly and awkwardly to catalogue the points of greatest pain. For all that Will Williams is not a doctor, he certainly is getting better at doctoring. He’s less agitated every time: last time Finn had sliced his leg open on a splintered fence, Will had been more annoyed than worried; and these days, he even wraps aching joints and teaches folks how to clean cuts and sores and he went out to see Noel’s husband - God rest him - whenever she asked, even though he couldn’t do anything, until he let her down gently a few weeks before the end. Ainsel is abruptly reminded, with new urgency, of how much they appreciate having not-a-doctor Will Williams around to doctor them all.

“It’s good to have you around,” Ainsel wheezes, their brain-to-mouth filter shaken about a bit by relentless horse riding; Will looks slightly horrified.

“Oh lord,” he says, “are you dyin’?”

Ainsel shakes their head and sits up on their elbows. Will’s palm slides behind the ball of his shoulder to support the motion, warm and steady. “Naw - no-one’s in trouble, promise.”

“Uh huh,” Will says, sounding deeply unconvinced. “And this bat out of hell impression you’ve got going, what’s that in aid of?”

Ainsel makes a face, which Will picks up on immediately. It had been too much to hope that he wouldn’t, of course, and this is all the point anyhow: Ainsel is here to tell Will as early as possible something he may not want to hear, but will eventually find out regardless. He may as well hear it on his own terms.

They had been walking Noel to the hotel for an hour of coffee and polite conversation, for the duration of which they may both pretend that they only know similarly polite and calm individuals. It is...therapeutic. They sometimes bring Will, who can be relied upon for good behaviour, but he’d usually rather be out by the creek or in the prairie grass or in the shade of a cactus pretending he doesn’t know any humans at all; it is, therefore, a surprise to see him standing with his back to them in an expensive pine-green suit at the front desk. Ainsel notes all these details only in hindsight: the broader shoulders, the bowler hat, the set of his stance which is not quite right - like Will, only a good bit older, mirrored and two steps to the left. At the time, though, they had simply seen Will, and not thought a thing of it that Noel should raise the hand not tucked into Ainsel’s elbow and say “Mister Williams! Will you come sit with - oh, I do apologise; I thought you were an acquaintance of ours.”

The man smiles with disproportionate pleasure at being misidentified, leaning forward on his toes in his road-dusty brogues. There is a suitcase at his feet and he is holding his hat to his chest deferentially, but he is still standing in the hotel with a confidence and appearance of belonging that Will has never possessed - possibly ever, but certainly not in a genteel environment like this one. He wears a day’s stubble well, flecked with slightly premature grey, on a jaw which is squarer than Will’s, but just as fine-boned and angular; his voice, when he speaks, sounds like Will when he’s at his most anxious - all old-money, old-country, cold and tall and prickly like the pines in whose snow-capped shadows Will grew up.

“Not at all; perhaps you can help me. You see, I am indeed a Mister Williams - Thomas Williams, ma’am, at your service - and I am seeking a relative of mine who may just be this acquaintance of yours.” Noel makes the appropriate interested noises, but Ainsel goes abruptly cold as though they had broken and tumbled through the surface of a frozen lake, instantaneous and gasping for air. They have this sense of déja vu when looking at Thomas Williams, more than the ordinary familiarity of seeing Will in him - and then they remember. They have seen Will’s big brother before, in the card that had shown them Will’s youth; they barely need to glance at their palm to know that the cards have found their way into their free hand once more, and that the top card is the card that might be the Tower, and might be the Queen of Spades.

“Has something happened?” Ainsel says, interrupting the polite and non-committal conversation Noel is maintaining with the stranger about the quality of the road into Danser Town and the inconvenience of not having a railway out here yet, at every opportunity steering him away from asking her any question about Will’s presence or existence that she might actually have to answer.

Thomas Williams blinks, wrongfooted, but rallies quickly. “I’m afraid my mother has recently died,” he says, and Noel murmurs condolences; Ainsel just watches him. “She and my - cousin were never as close as one might like, but…” Williams casts about, looking away with a shadow over his brow, and Ainsel realises his grief is real and painful - though whether it is for the lost parent, or the lost opportunity to reconcile, they cannot say.

Ainsel nods and tucks the cards back into their pocket, turning solicitously to Noel. “I’m afraid I gotta go; will you be alright-?”

Noel pats their elbow and releases them, message received. Of course Noel will be alright; Ainsel has no idea if she knows what they know about Will’s relation to this stranger, but she sure has gathered that Ainsel is not eagerly bringing one party to the other. “You go, then. I’m sure this fine gentleman will keep me in good company,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes and turning her charm upon Mister Williams like a beam. He blinks in the face of it, and finds himself abandoning his luggage to offer her his arm and lead her to a table almost without noticing.

He certainly had been stunned enough to ignore Ainsel turning on a dime and taking off through the doors at a dead run.

Which leaves them here: lying on the dusty earth in the shadow of a rocky desert outcrop with Will Williams crouched by their head, and wishing that they had sent Tommy or Finn or Johnny out instead - how those bastards make galloping look easy, Ainsel may never know.

Ainsel takes a deep breath, fixes their gaze on Will, and says it firm and simple. “Your brother is here in Danser, and he’s the absolute fuckin’ spit of you, so I don’t reckon you can get away with him not knowing you’re here.”

Will, in an action which is either a credit to his propensity for forethought or reminiscent of a small furry prey animal, does not move for a good five seconds. Then he drops Ainsel’s shoulder and stands abruptly, marching six paces away and staring at the dirt. Ainsel watches in silence as Will chews the inside of his cheek intently. They can’t think what to say that might help: he seems nice is true, but seems is a big word that hides a multitude of sins; he said you were his cousin doesn’t quite accurately convey, the way Ainsel wants it to, that Thomas Williams doesn’t seem to know who he’s looking for at all (sister, brother, neither, both) but is keen to find that person nevertheless; I’m a little concerned that if we leave them alone too long, Noel will have married him for your inheritance by the time we get back doesn’t seem remotely useful, for all that it is honest.

“Did he say why?” Will says eventually, after a good minute of silence in which Ainsel regains their breath and manages to sit up properly and look around Will’s little camp. He usually comes back to town overnight, unless he’s seeking something nocturnal, but he always takes a bedroll and cookpot just in case he gets distracted and forgets to come home; he’s got it all, still packed, in a pile near his horse, and has only brought out a leather-bound notebook, a pencil and some charcoals which he has left on a flat rock pointing southwest where some animals, presumably, are being interesting. In rampant defiance of the gun safety and maintenance talks Finn has repeatedly given him, Will has left his rifle broken over a rock far out of reach with cartridges spilling out over the floor, where any young man with spurs on or sturdy horse in iron shoes might step on or near them and give everyone a terrible shock. Will can be so childlike about animals, sometimes - so focussed upon them and nothing else - that Ainsel reckons he needs protecting. So he shuffles over and puts the cartridges in a box, and carefully mulls over how to answer the question.

“He did,” Ainsel says eventually, voice taut and unwilling. Will sniffs, face twitching with it, but says nothing and doesn’t look his way. They sigh, and turn the box awkwardly between their fingers. “It’s your ma,” they settle on. “I’m afraid she’s, uh, passed. Recently.”

Will doesn’t move an inch. He tells them, sometimes, when he’s drunk on two whiskeys and tired of Danser Town’s shit, about his home country in the northeast; the great lakes in their vast and cosmic stillness, the endless plains of undisturbed snow, the deep dark woods of solemn, unmoving pines stretching out past the point of vanishing. He used to sit out for hours in the summer watching herons stand proudly on the banks of the lakes, being plagued by mosquitos but never minding it, for if he waited long enough a herd of deer might drink by his side, or a great, ageless moose, or perhaps even a bear seeking fish before his winter sleep. Will would sit, ever so still, and wait for the world to unfurl its shy beauty before him like a gift. Ainsel wonders if it’s something they all know to do in the north: if the mountains and lakes and forests impose a certain quiet stillness upon all its inhabitants like austere, frowning schoolmarms, or if this is something Will learned on his own on those occasions he could escape the family home in town.

In the winter, Will says, the trees shiver and pop. Water gets in them, see, and then it freezes, and the sap too; when it expands, it breaks down the pines’ firm, fibrous defenses and the trees start to explode.

“I’m sorry,” Ainsel offers.

Will nods, short and sharp, like he’s decided something. And then, without looking at Ainsel at all, he goes back to his notebook and squints at the horizon.

“...you ain’t gonna come back an’ see him?” Ainsel says cautiously.

“Thank you for telling me,” Will says, sounding more cool and moneyed than he ever has - the difference takes Ainsel aback a moment, for all that it is rather familiar. Will had sounded like that fresh off the train into town, and it hadn’t really occurred to them before how much his accent had mellowed into something more gentle, casual, and local to Danser. The switch back is a little like being struck. “You may go, now.”

Ainsel is not quick to anger. They have long accepted the vagaries of the universe, and others within it; their follies and irritations are something to which Ainsel is quite resigned. A thing has to be pretty damn offensive to rile them into anger.

So there is no small amount of alarm on Will’s face when Ainsel hauls themself off the floor, marches across the small clearing between the great desert rocks, fists their hand in Will’s shirtfront and presses him against the rock with a snarl. “Listen here, you sonuvabitch,” Ainsel says sternly, “I rode across the desert so fast all my damn bones are broke so’s you could know your brother was here on your own terms, and not ‘cause some helpful bastard in town’s brought him straight to ya. I ain’t askin’ for nothing from you, Will Williams, but I reckon I deserve some of your goddamn respect.” Will looks rather contrite. Ainsel thinks of the card vision, and the gentle man within who so cared for the child, and how eager Thomas Williams had been at the hotel to find someone who looked like him, and presses their advantage. “What’s more, I reckon you oughtta come speak to your brother, who’s grievin’ and who came out all this way lookin’ for you-”

Will’s dark eyes flash abruptly flinty, and Ainsel knows that they have misstepped. It’s still not enough warning: Will makes a fist and punches the soft inside of Ainsel’s elbow with his sharp knuckles, breaking the hold Ainsel has on his shirt, and while Ainsel is gasping with the shock of it he plants his hands flat on Ainsel’s chest and shoves hard enough to move them a good few paces. “You have no idea who he came out looking for,” Will hisses, pointing accusingly and stalking forward into Ainsel’s space, “but it sure as hell wasn’t me. He may be my brother, but I’m not his.”

“I reckon you are!” Ainsel blurts out, too busy thinking about how Thomas Williams had leaned forward on his toes to get nearer those people that might know Will to mind themself.

“The devil do you know about it all?” Will cries, throwing his hands in the air, and Ainsel recoils, wounded. “I don’t see how you can tell me what to do, as though you’ve no secrets you don’t want to address. You don’t - you don’t know me. None of you do. You-” this with a look of disdainful, injured pride and a dismissive gesture in their direction “-don’t even know yourself. So get out.”

Ainsel, for a moment, cannot breathe for the terrible hurt of it all. They have to shift one foot behind them a little to avoid stumbling backwards and folding like a broken chair to the floor. Will turns away to fuss with his drawing materials, and Ainsel works their jaw until sound comes out. “So that’s it, huh. You’re skipping town because you’re too fuckin’ yellow to see your own brother.”

Will shakes his head without turning around. “No,” he says, cool and measured, “I am going to stay here until he leaves and then return once he’s moved on, because he won’t search Danser twice and because I am-” he tilts his head thoughtfully, like a mockingbird “-too fucking yellow to see my own brother.”

“Yeah,” Ainsel mutters, turning back to Edelweiss and hauling their battered frame back into the saddle. “I can see how hiding behind a rock is a much better strategy.”

Will turns, glare spitting with fury, but Ainsel is already pulling Edelweiss around and nudging her into a steady trot back towards Danser. Edelweiss, having enjoyed her taste of speed and freedom, wants to run wild and joyous across the desert dust, to loop around the town into the prairie where the ranches are and cascade over the hill past the fenced-in stock animals and whinny her mocking laugh at them all, for she is free, free, wild and free - but Ainsel does not. They keep her reined tight until she snorts and huffs and tosses her great head and shows her tombstone teeth, but they allow her nothing. Ainsel is tired of runners, anyway.

[is-that-another-soulmate-au]

A suggestion/request from @bon-fly

Medieval Au Zukka, I would have added more detail about the other ships but it had already much longer than I anticipated

✨Enjoy✨

"What ever could be the problem my lord?" Came the characteristically grumpy voice of Zuko's Dwarflven Mage Toph

He leaned back from his slouched position to look at the blind woman. "It's nothing much really. I Just... I need to summon the southern knights for the Avatar honoring" he gave a sigh

"Then summon them" she said simply while leaning on his throne. There was a few other advisors in the room, none of them were ever expecting Toph's brash behavior towards the king or the fact that he took it. The high elven king never once found his Dwarven mage's behavior to be uncalled for. His reasoning was simple. She was a friend, one which would lay her life down for his just as he would hers.

"Its not that simple Toph, he's going to be with them" Zuko leaned his elbow on the table and pressed his hand to his forehead.

"If I may, My lord, the avatar is technically escorting the knights, not the other way around" advisor Tayko offered

Zuko gave a snort "thats not who I'm worried about Tayko, but I appreciate the sentiment. Its the Cheif's... ehm, son"

"Did he do something wrong my lord?" Tayko asked with narrowed eyes

"More like he did everything right and managed to fluster mister pointy ears" Toph bellowed and Zuko flushed a deep red

"Shut it Toph!" But he laughed with her "she is right though... I'm just, nervous is all, dont worry Tayko, I'll have the letter written by tonight"

Tayko, still being wary of how Toph behaved but understanding that her king was very brash with people who acted out of line, gave a smile "my lord, may I say something?"

Zuko sat straight and looked at her warily "go on Tayko"

"It is to my knowledge that most people don't support miss Toph being here, but I have never seen anyone make you smile as she has," she paused and looked at her hands in her lap "I'm very happy to see you smile again"

"Well, its nice that someone noticed, thank you Tayko" Toph said with a big grin spread from ear to ear across her cheeks. "Now, Zuko has some writing to do, so run along, I will fetch you when it is written"

Not long after Tayko scurried off she was fetched once more and given the letter to send by hawk to summon the southern nights and the avatar. The hawk response came by the next evening when Toph was training Zuko to react faster on both sides, not just his good side. "I know you're not a dwarf but ANYONE can feel the vibrations, and you're clear proof of that" Toph said as she watched the king use his blades and flames to expertly block and deflect each rock sent his way.

"My lord" Tayko spoke suddenly from behind Toph and had a blade fly past her head missing by a good six inches "Eep!" She tensed while he took off his blindfold

"Sorry Tayko, you startled me" Zuko gave a sheepish grin "what did you need?"

"The uh.." she moved away from the wall with a sigh "the Southern Chief sent back, they will be here in three days time. Shall I summon Lady Mai and Ty Lee?"

Zuko gave a huff and slouched his shoulders, his pointed ears slanting downward as well "that would be best, though they won't be happy to be summoned so soon after their honeymoon"

The pair most certainly weren't, the arrival of them was easy to notice because a knife flew past Zuko's head, barely grazing his ear and landed on his throne "ah, Mai, sorry to summon you so early after you two wed, but youre the only ones capable of pulling off a three day party planning."

"You are going to owe use so many fruit tarts!" Mai spoke harshly as she stormed into the room

"Yeah! With rose petals!" Ty Lee backed up her wife with a much softer voice.

Mai smiled softly at Ty Lee and placed a quick kiss to her forehead "thank you darling."

"Of course, you'll have all the reward you like, but we have to prepare for the avatar and Sokka." Zuko said with a wave of his hand.

"You mean the Avatar and the Southern Knights" Mai pointed out

"Thats what I said"

By the time the third day of planning had finished the kingdom was decked out with shimmering blue flowers of all assortments, ribbons and the like were draped around anything that seemed fit to the recently weds.

At high noon Zuko was found with Ming fixing his hair and Ursa helping him with his robes and jewels. "He'll be here soon Mom"

"I know sweetie, but you need not worry, the Avatar will appreciate the festivities you have set out for him and the knights" Ursa reassured her son while tying off the last bit of silk and Ming slid in the metal hold for his hair piece.

"Thats not who he meant lady Ursa" Toph said bluntly. Ursa turned to the blind dwarf behind her who had a soft smile on her face rather than her normal mischief coated expression. "My lord, they've arrived at the gates"

Zuko flushed "lead the way" and she did. She lead him down the many stairs, with his many layers of silk flowing freely behind him. They followed the winding paths of the kingdom streets until they reached the Knights and Avatar. Chief Hakoda and Bato stood with Sokka on their right and Katara on their left with Avatar Aang in the middle. A hobbit at maybe their hips was a humorous sight indeed, but Zuko's focus was on someone else.

Sokka stood in his formal attire, a pale blue high collar robe ending at his shoulders but his arms covered by a a deep blue draping silk over dress connected in the center by a fire opal jewel. Zuko was of course caught staring by the chiefs themselves "ahem, Lord Zuko?" Bato spoke up with a raised brow

"Oh, uh! My apologies, welcome to my kingdom," he turned to look at Aang who smirked when he noticed the flush on Zuko's cheeks "thank you for coming to the honoring Avatar Aang"

"Say, Lord Zuko, Sokka told me about his last trip here.. well, technically he spoke mostly of you, not much variety in his stories I'll tell you tha-!" The small boy was silenced by a hand over his mouth from a flustered Sokka.

The blue eyed boy stammered out a "sorry about him, he loves to blurt things out without thinking them through!"

"Sounds like someone else I know" Katara said with her hand on her hips. From just looking at her ears he could tell that she was a bender, and a powerful one at that. "Sorry about that Zuko, my brother and Aang love getting on eachothers nerves, especially about you" she rolled her eyes

Zuko however was as red as his robes "oh, uh, thats perfectly alright, Toph, would you mind showing them to their quarters?"

Toph gave a laugh "you want a blind dwarf to lead four southern elves and a hobbit to their living quarters?"

"You may be blind but you can easily see, and you know it Toph-" a rock hit the back of his head and he yelped before giving her a pout

"Haaah! Yeah, youre right, but don't you wanna show baby blue to his room?"

Zuko gave a huff "Chief Hakoda, Cheif Bato, Warrior Karata and Avatar Aang please follow Mage Beifong to your living quarters. Warrior Sokka, I need a word with you about that design you sent over last moon, so I will show you to your room"

"Oh, of course" and with that the group left the two man alone to walk to the palace. For a short while they were quiet but Sokka broke the silence by linking arms "so, about those designs, I was thinking we could easily make a cart that didn't need any animal to pul it if we just used"

Zuko didnt hear much besides Sokka's voice, too lost in the fact that he was finally here to understand what the sounds meant together until they made it into the castle and Sokka tugged him into a small broom closet "I know why you actually separated me from the others"

Zuko cleared his throat "im sure you are aware of my reasons, but you did not need to drag me in here, if you were worried about someone catching wind you made the mistake of going into a broom closet with one of my maids already in here" he turned to help her up "sorry miss Jin, I'll give you the day off paid in full"

Zuko then took hold of Sokka's hand and dragged him out of the small room and back to the empty hallway. "Hah, my bad" Sokka said with a small voice crack

"Don't worry about it, thought you shouldn't worry about the staff catching wind of this sort of thing, everyone here adores you, I hope you know that" Zuko chuckled

"What sort of thing?" Sokka feigned innocence and Zuko being ever so gullible fell for it with a flushed face

"Oh! I'm sorry, I just thought that, maybe you had caught onto my affections for you, and reciprocated them. What did you think I-!!" The king didn't have much room to continue his awkward words because Sokka planted a quick kiss to his cheek to silence him

"Of course I do Zuko, and I was only teasing, you really should be better at spotting that with Toph being around you all the time, hah, she plays the- hey! Where are we going?"

Zuko said nothing, and just dragged him to the room he was to be staying in for the week of festivities and slammed the door behind them. "Don't. Don't.... don't tease me about that okay? I'm not entirely used to anyone returning affections since... well" he genstured to his burn scar and damaged ear.

"Oh, oh Zuko no, Zuko I'm sorry, I didnt realize... I'm sorry" Sokka took the shorter elf's face in his hands and forced him to look him in the eyes "Zuko you're beautiful, I can't get over how stunning you looked under the moonlight the first time we met. And what's even more stunning about you is the ability to make a confession walk seem like a diplomatic walk to anyone but the two of us. You really do have a way with words"

Zuko was practically melting in the hands of the southern warrior, "you... you really think that of me?" He asked with a shy softness to his voice.

Sokka couldnt help the fond chuckle "Of course I do Zuko, now, if its not too much, may I give you a real kiss this time?"

All Sokka needed was a small nod and he sealed the distance between them. Every mile, every inch, every millimeter of distance that had ever been between the fire elven king and Southern elven warrior was gone, and all that remained was stars.

The two wed thirteen moons later, with a promise to protect, love, and trust one another in this life and every life that came after.

[glitterbootsharry]

chapter five

taglist

“I fuckin’ ‘ate Harry,” Daphne sips on her endless mimosa- the orange liquid sloshing against the clear glass as Daphne emphasizes her words with her hand, sunglasses hiding the dark circles that seemed to appear overnight on the very dull grey Wednesday mid-morning. Her fork scraped over the white china, trying to push the food around so it looked like Daphne actually ate something. Eliza’s face furrowed, in disbelief, as she leaned on the outdoor table with her elbows.

“Why? You loved him so much you moved in right away and he-” Eliza’s protest was cut short with Daphne sighing dramatically.

“He’s full of ‘imself and he won’t apologize to me for what happened last week, piece of shit,” Daphne’s eyes roll as her croissant nearly fell off her plate. She huffs as she picks her bread up and feverishly begins to chew as a passing car honks the horn. “He literally....”

“Took you on a date with Alex and his new girl and what? Did he not kiss you goodnight? Offer a good shag?” Eliza was trying to hide her ever growing smile- she tapped on her empty glass with her coffin nails waiting for a refill. The fact that Daphne was this upset over a double date was hilarious to the brunette.

“Gross. Never will kiss Harry, but no. He’s been a complete arsehole ever since I saw him with... Stephen.”

“So? He was laughing with the bloke at work. It’s not like-“

“Eliza Jane Harrington, he was seen canoodling with the enemy. It gets worse; just let me finish.”

☕︎︎

Harry hears the faint knock on the front door when his eyes open. Normally, he’s a sound sleeper- only the smell of food or the loud blaring of a weather alert pulling him from his slumber. But with Daphne gently moaning with her mouth slightly agape, Harry slept lightly in case she needed anything.

He rolled out of bed hoping the creaking of his body and bed wouldn’t wake Daphne. He closes the white door softly before scoffing at the absurd amount of knocks that whoever is doing. He opens the door to find Alex in a state.

“I need you mate, I really do,” Alex’s worried voice carries over the white flat as he walks through the entryway, not giving Harry a proper hello. Harry closes the door, sighing as he curses at the universe for waking him early on a Sunday. “I really cocked it up with this girl. I actually asked her out on a date.”

“Oh no, the world is in shambles. You’ve completely lost the plot, mate. I dunno what to tell you,” Harry crosses his arms as Alex shuffles across the floor.

“I mean I like her, I really do, but I actually asked her out. Proper. On a date,” Alex looks up to his friend with a look that worries Harry for a second. He had a plan.

“You could come with. Yeah, make it a double?” Alex’s voice was now excited as he nearly screamed in place. Harry steps forward with a stern look on his face. He motions with his head at his closed bedroom door.

“Quiet, or you’ll wake Daphne.”

“Are you joking mate? Daphne’s in there?” Alex was at a loss for words as he pointed with his hand at Harry’s closed bedroom door. Harry’s finger finds his mouth and shushes his friend back to a library safe tone in fear of waking Daphne. “What about Amelia?”

“Mate...” Harry’s voice broke flat as his face scrunched together. “Really? Nothing’s going on between us. She... We watched a movie and she got scared. It’s not the first time.”

“Not the first time?!” Alex’s voice raised again before he spoke more quietly after Harry gave him a stern look only Alex knew that he was driving into dangerous waters. “You mean to tell me that your beautiful, sexy flatmate has spent the night in your bed and you didn’t get a leg over?”

“No, and if you don’t drop it now, I’ll shove my foot so far up your arse when I bend me toes, I’ll tickle your brain.”

“Drop what?” Daphne stood at the opened doorway yawning. She rubbed her eyes adjusting to the bright light coming from the main room’s windows.The low murmurs woke her to an empty bedroom. She had outstretched to find Harry only he wasn’t there. Her hair was frizzy and tangled from her tossing in the middle of the night- vivid nightmares keeping her awake as Harry softly snored from sleeping on his naked torso. Her chestnut eyes were red and puffy, laying out evidence of a terrible night’s sleep.

“Alex was just...” Harry couldn’t find any words. He watched as Daphne walked closer to them in a shirt Daphne didn’t wear to bed. She was wearing his. It was a bit tight across the chest, but she looked ravishing.

“Asking Harry to a double date next Friday. I have a girl that I want to take her out, and I thought it would be less weird if someone else was there,” Alex smiled at Harry before drawing his attention to Daphne’s hardened nipples. Harry punches Alex in the arm when he notices.

“Oh that would be fun. Amelia going with you?” Daphne’s raspy voice creaks through the room. This always happened to her when she would cry herself to sleep.

“No she’s out of town then. Ya know, work,” Harry sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “Which we need to get ready for.”

“It’s Sunday, Harry. No one’s working,” Daphne rolls her eyes as she tugs on the grey hem hoping it would magically cover more of her torso.

“What about you Daph? You in? We’re going to the National Gallery and mini golfing.”

“What an odd combination,” Daphne laughs at Alex. “Sure as long as Harry here is ready to be dominated at mini golf.” Daphne kisses Alex on the cheek and rests her hand on Harry’s chest- his heart beating fast. He prays that she can’t feel the dern muscle pumping against his skin. She looks up at him and smiles softly before letting her hand cascade slowly across his chest and down his arm.

Daphne stops short of her bedroom door and listens to the rest of the conversation that she had been eavesdropping on.

“I’m tellin’ you mate she’s got the hots for ya,” Alex’s voice is beginning to fade as Daphne assumes Harry is shoving him out the door. Daphne’s heart twists as she comes to an all sudden realization. She had been staring at Harry for far too long this morning.

“Yeah, you bloody wanker, and I’m the King of England.”

☕︎︎

Vera was nice. Beautiful, as if she had stepped out of a photoshoot or off the runway, Daphne couldn’t decide between the two, but the one thing that annoyed Daphne was the obnoxious laugh that carried throughout the entire building. Daphne swore she would hear the tune of laughter in her nightmares until days to come. It wasn’t a small laugh, no- it was a wide laugh that was in your face over the smallest of things. Alex made a corny joke, one like Harry would make, and while Daphne and Harry chuckled, Vera laughed from her belly with her mouth wide open as if she was in a comedy club.

Daphne counted the few peaceful moments of the evening as a reminder that the agonizing pain was to be over with soon. In the National Gallery, the two pairs went off on their own. Daphne found herself wondering over to the marble statues, listening to the recorded facts of each piece that hummed in the ear set. She had always wondered how much beauty could be formed from a block of materialized rock.

-ONE-

“It’s fascinating how the artist can make the sheer gown look real,” Harry whispers, leaning over to Daphne’s free ear. She jumped feeling quite startled as Harry pulled her back to reality. She imagined each chisel, each precise stroke that went behind every curve and point of the artwork. One wrong move and everything was over. When she looked up at Harry, his quiet smile ceasing to end, her heart pummeled inside itself. She hoped it was still from the scare.

“Yeah, I would love to see David in Florence. Michelangelo really was something else in the art world. And DiVinci. These are just....breathtaking,” Daphne smiled as she nudged Harry in the side with her elbow after his “Oh, we’re not talking about the Ninja Turtle?” joke. “How’s Miss Laugh and Mister Funny?” Harry looks around the room as if he’s lost something before turning to Daphne. He searches behind the tall naked woman before calling out Alex and Vera’s names.

“You haven’t heard them? Maybe someone kidnapped them?” Harry asks as his smile grows. “Or maybe they were escorted out due to disturbing the paintings.”

The small laughter between the two of them filled the open room. Daphne clutched Harry’s elbow, the tan block sweater burning into his skin as she looked up at him. Her brown eyes were growing dark and he wondered what it would be like to hear her laughter in his darkened bedroom in the lull of early morning when both were too awake to sleep, only running on hysteria. Daphne begins to walk to another statue across the way and wonders if there were ever any technology to capture the sound of laughter and make it into a painting, she would be willing to bet pounds that Harry’s laughter would sit next to the statue of David.

Harry hummed quietly as he followed Daphne through the statues. He took in, silently and stealthily, Daphne’s beauty. Her blonde hair was in a high pony, swaying the air around her as she walked. She wore the purple cashmere sweater that kept the cold November air at bay from her body with her black ripped skinny jeans. When Daphne walked out in those jeans with only her black lace brassiere on, Harry cleared his throat as he looked anywhere but in Daphne’s direction.

“As if you haven’t seen a naked woman before, Haz,” Daphne laughed as she took her cup of tea back to her bedroom.

“Won’t your knees get cold?” Harry called out after Daphne, only before she closed the door- the image of her raven torso tattoo burning in his mind.

“Not as cold as your heart,” Daphne yelled, a smile growing on her face.

“Should I be offended?” Harry laughed to himself.

Harry stands behind Daphne- close enough to smell her rich perfume. He thinks about wrapping his hands around her waist, pulling her head against his shoulder to kiss her. Shouldn’t he have these thoughts about Amelia?

Across the open hallway was a tall blonde man watching Daphne. His blue eyes followed her when she looked up at the looming statues with appreciation and love. Harry could see the wanting in his eyes, and it made his stomach churn. Anger tinged his soul as gingerly grasped Daphne’s hand- her cool skin setting a fire against his warm skin.

“Don’t look now, but some bugger is staring at you,” Harry whispered as he pulled Daphne into his embrace. Her honey eyes search his green ones, trying to understand what Harry was exactly doing. “Don’t want you chatting some boy up on our date.”

-TWO-

“You totally cheated,” Harry huffed as Daphne’s golf ball rings inside the white hole.

“You can’t cheat at mini-golf, Harry. ‘S not possible.” Daphne walked over to the small hole and grabbed her purple ball before shifting her weight to one hip as she waited for Harry to put his own. “Oh my God, is that Elton John?”

Harry looks up to where Daphne is looking as he hits the green ball only for it to miss the hole entirely.

“I swear to God, Daphne, I hate you,” Harry sighed, a fine line forming across his face where his lips were. He hated losing almost as much as saying he was sorry.

“Yeah well, get over it,” Daphne smiled. The one thing that really had been eating at Daphne was building the courage to confront Harry about a certain moment that happened earlier in the week. She had gone to take Harry’s forgotten packed lunch when the lift doors opened to Harry laughing loudly at a tall brunette man whose back was turned to her.

She waltzed across the room, not really caring at the moment since she herself was running late as it was, mind you, that she didn’t have time to carry Harry’s lunch across town to him. She extended her hand out, giving Harry’s cold leftovers to him and when she turned to leave, her heart sank.

She should have known who it was before she walked over to Harry- the slight build of the back, the deep voice that carried through her, the intense glare she had gotten from him.

“Stephen,” she hissed, not caring who was around. “How’s the slag from accounting? Still working out for you, yeah?” Daphne gave Harry a eat-shit-and-die look before turning to leave. “See you at home, Harry.”

Daphne yawned as Harry’s face furrowed in anger. She purposely made him miss so that she could win, but the smile that was plastered on her face when Harry straightened himself made the anger of losing melt away.

“Do you want some hot cocoa?” Daphne asked as Harry lined himself with the ball, solely concentrating on his game. “My treat.”

“Yeah sure, but please don’t leave me for long. I don’t know if I could stand it,” Harry motions his head over to the obstacle hole next to the pair. Vera was being coached by Alex, his body hovering against hers as they swung the club in the air for practice and her laugh stifling the air. “Still don’t know how she’s made it this long without playing.”

“It’s been a long twenty-eight years, I’ll tell you that,” Daphne chirps before handing Harry her club before leaving the faux grass. The giant plastic elephant’s trunk swung open barely missing Daphne’s head, Harry laughed and she gave him the middle finger.

“In your dreams, darling,” Harry called out into the cold night air as he watched his roommate walk to the queue.

“Two hot chocolates please,” Daphne ordered, her hair flying in the night air. The smell of pretzels and fired hot dogs fill her nose and she’s reminded of the circus.

“£3.50,” Daphne handed her card and the lady quickly swiped it through the card reader. “Receipt?”

“No thanks,” Daphne smiled. Looking back at Harry, he’s waiting as patiently as he can with his wait on his hip and his hand on the opposite for Alex and Vera to move to another hole. She laughs at the thoughts Harry could possibly be thinking.

“Be a minute, love.”

Daphne watches her flatmate from afar, wondering what life would be if she hadn’t responded to the advertisement those months ago.

Bland. Desolate. You’d be living with your parents again.

“Here you go, love. Enjoy.” The counter lady places the hot cups on the counter and when Daphne turns to be with Harry again after gently picking the scolding hot cups, they’re suddenly on a stranger.

She couldn’t stop herself from turning and crashing into a tall handsome man who looked out of place. In a land of mini-golf, he looked as if he belonged on the Master’s grass.

“So sorry, I should have looked,” Daphne mumbled out of her mouth as she tried to dry off the spilled milk with the few napkins she grabbed. “Let me pay for cleaning,” she looked up at the man who, for someone who just had hot chocolate spilled on them, was calm and almost laughing.

“Honestly, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been standing so close.” Daphne continued to pat the growing spot to soak up as much of the liquid as she can. “Don’t worry about cleaning, it’s an old shirt anyways. Name’s Matt.”

He extends his hand and when Daphne finally stops patting him down, she shakes his hand. His face, Daphne came to the conclusion, was chiseled from God himself. He took extra time with this Matt. High cheekbones, structure jaw that she could see herself sitting on, blue ocean eyes that she could get lost in.

Still holding his hand, Daphne finds herself feeling small. “Daphne. Daphne Rose Jones. I’m a Sagittarius.” Matt laughs as he tousles his dirty blonde hair with his free hand. His smile stretches across his face. “Matt Jerome Barr. I have no clue what sign I am.”

“Guess we would need to research it then,” Daphne felt her face get hot from embarrassment. Did she really just say that?

“I guess so,” Matt’s voice hummed low as he finally lets go of Daphne’s hand. “You with anyone here, love?”

“Yeah, just my roommate. He’s over there with his friend and girly friend thing,” Daphne looks over to Harry who is now watching Daphne interact with a tall bloke.

“You live with a guy? He’s gay?” Matt asks, his brow quirking up.

“No. He’s got a girl. She isn’t here- on business. But yeah totally straight.”

“Interesting.” Matt wanted nothing more than to run his hands through Daphne’s hair.

“That’s not the only interesting thing here,” Daphne purred, her honey eyes going completely black. “I’m winning at mini-golf.”

“That is very interesting. How about you and I go a couple of rounds later? Say next Friday?” Matt asks, his hands toying with Daphne’s.

☕︎︎

“What was that all about?” Harry asks as Daphne hands him his cup. He sips slowly, letting the hot liquid soothe his throat.

“Spilled the drinks on him. Had to apologize properly,” Daphne’s eyes darted down to the faux grass, “and then he asked me out next Friday.”

“Next Friday? We were going to do the naked painting thing,” Harry’s smile crooks in a corner as Daphne laughs. She makes her stance at her ball before once again getting a hole in one.

“We’ll always have the naked painting thing.” Daphne kisses Harry on the cheek and he feels his heart breaking one piece at a time.

####

taglist: @starboyhaz

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ @sasuhinabigflash2020​​ || Day Four: On A Hill ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina, blood, death, gun ] [ Verse: Stockades and Stagecoaches ] [ AO3 Link ]

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“YAH!”

Kicking spurs into his mount’s side, Sasuke leans up over the horse’s neck, releasing his reins to better keep hold of his rifle. Hooves thunder against the ground, dry and dusty in the dog days of Summer. Ahead of him, his target is just as desperate to build speed, glancing back over his shoulder to his pursuer.

Just a little closer…

Then with a bang and a whiz, a bullet flies by, followed quickly by more as the fiend draws a pistol, firing nearly blind behind himself in a last ditch effort to ward off his foe.

But Sasuke’s been in far too many fire fights to flinch. Instead, he finally launches a bullet of his own with a cracking report.

It flies true, burying into the man’s back with a cry of agony. For a moment he sits stiff in his saddle before falling to the earth. His own horse keeps running, and Sasuke makes no attempt to stop it. Instead, he brings his to a stop with a hold of the reins and a soft, “whoa”.

Blood pooling in the dirt, the rogue beneath him draws a few more rattling breaths before going still.

Seems he won’t be getting a confession, but in truth he doesn’t need one. All he knows is that this one’s face was on a wanted poster...and when Sasuke decides to take down a bounty, nothing stands in his way.

Dead or alive.

Dismounting, he goes through the man’s pockets, taking anything of note that the dead no longer need. A few dollars, a pocket watch, and a half-empty package of cigarettes. He doesn’t smoke, but he might be able to trade them to someone who does.

Making sure the target’s deceased, Sasuke then hauls him up behind his saddle, tying him down to take in to the sheriff’s office. For good measure, he folds the copy of the poster he took and stuffs it in the man’s pocket to make the last step all the easier.

He then climbs up into his seat, surprised to find the other horse come to a stop not too far off. With a flick of his lasso, he manages to catch it, leading it back toward town. Given his owner no longer has need of it...might as well sell it. He trusts his own mount too much to consider trading, and he doesn’t carry enough to need a pack animal.

The less he can get by on, the easier it is to keep moving.

The ride to town takes him until sunset, curious citizens gawking at the scene. Bounty hunters aren’t exactly rare, but a successful haul - let alone a dead one - still draws gazes.

Clearly about ready to call it a day, the sheriff lounges in a rocking chair along the front of the jail, sitting up as Sasuke approaches. “And what have we here?”

Rather than answer, the Uchiha grabs the body and tosses it on the veranda, whipping out the parchment and presenting it without a word.

“Hm…” With a boot, the sheriff turns the body face-up, comparing the face to the sketch. “Seems right to me. Give me a moment and I’ll fetch your reward, mister…?”

“Uchiha. Sasuke Uchiha.”

“Mister Uchiha.” Giving a nod and stepping over the corpse, the other man disappears for a few minutes before returning with a small wad of bills. “Two hundred and fifty dollars, as advertised. And our little town thanks you for your service. One less varmint runnin’ amok.”

Hand at its brim, Sasuke tips his hat respectfully before remounting. With that money, he can easily afford a room, a bath, and to restock on supplies before heading to the next town to see what work they’d have. But first...a little rest and relaxation for a job well done.

His horse plods easily through town, watching as it begins to button up for the evening. Wives scold late-returning husbands, children are ushered in before it gets dark...and patrons flock to the tavern for its late night lights and spirits.

Tempting, but he’ll want a clear head to travel come morning.

His plan, however, soon runs into a snag. Seems the inn is full.

“There’s a boarding house at the west end a’town,” the innkeep offers. “A bit more spendy, but it should do well for ya. Run by a real nice gal. Sits up on a hill, y’can’t miss it.”

Glancing in the offered direction, Sasuke spies what looks to be the building’s silhouette as the sun sets behind it. Giving his thanks, Sasuke follows the scant directions, finding himself at the base of a three story building. Curious eyes rove over it before lowering to the door. Horse tethered in what is clearly the property’s stable, he walks up and knocks.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually the door opens. And standing within it is a woman of shorter stature and fuller features. But what catches his eyes first are her own: a pale color, almost like subdued lilac.

She in turn looks surprised to see him. And given that he sees no evidence of other guests, Sasuke can guess why. “...evening, sir!” she then greets, flashing a demure smile. “Can I help you…?”

“I was told lodging was offered here?” he asks, glancing up behind her.

“Yes, this’s a boarding house. Are you in need of a room?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Thinking to remove his hat, Sasuke then offers, “Wouldn’t turn down a bath and a meal, either.”

That gets her to softly laugh. “Of course. No offense, but...you look like you brought half the road with you.”

“Oh, er…” Stepping back, he dusts at his garments. “Had a long ride.”

“Most who come through do. If you’d like, I can launder those for you.”

He pauses. “...I’d appreciate that, ma’am.”

“Oh, please - miss Hyūga suits me just fine.” She then opens the door wider, and Sasuke steps in, spurs clinking quietly. “I’ll get that bath started for you. Just leave your things outside the door and I’ll tend to them.”

“Sure it’s not a bother?”

“Not at all. I’m...sure you’ve noticed you’re the only patron at the moment,” she notes with a weary sigh. “So I’ve all the time in the world. If anything, a bit more to do would be nice.”

Still feeling a bit awkward at all the offered hospitality, Sasuke just nods, letting her show him to a room and then the bathroom. She heats the water on the stove, filling the tub and leaving soaps for his use.

Taking in his saddlebags, Sasuke unpacks one of few spare outfits he has, stripping down and leaving what’s soiled outside the door before slipping into the water.

Admittedly...he can’t remember the last time he had a proper bath. Mostly just rinsing off in obliging rivers or rain barrels. So this? This is a treat. And he’s going to be damn sure to enjoy it while he can.

Only once clean and the water cold does he emerge, toweling off and dressing. Upon cracking open the door, he does indeed find what he left behind gone.

Feeling a bit standoffish, he eventually makes his way back downstairs, following the scent of food. And there he finds Hinata setting the dining room table before glancing up to him.

“My, looks like you’ve shed ten pounds from lost dirt alone,” she notes, smiling again as he flashes pink across the tops of his ears and the bridge of his nose. “Forgive me, it’s...been a while since I’ve had a guest. Seems my manners need some dusting off, too.”

“No harm, ma-...er, miss Hyūga.”

“Well, best have your supper before it gets cold.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes, before you arrived. No need to fuss over me, sir. Though that reminds me...I’ve yet to ask your name.”

“Sasuke Uchiha,” he replies upon taking a seat.

“Well, will you be with us long, mister Uchiha?”

“Just until morning.”

For a moment, disappointment flickers over her face, but is soon replaced by another smile. “Well, I’d best make the most of it, then! If you need anything else, just holler. I’ll be finishing up some chores. If you turn in early, I’ll offer a goodnight now.”

Sasuke just nods, watching her leave before taking a bite.

He’ll admit, it’s damn good.

Once his plate is cleared, he peeks into the kitchen, finding it empty and leaving his cutlery by the sink. Part of him wants to inquire after his clothes, but...well, she’s already doing him a favor. No need to appear pushy. Instead, he follows the lamplight up to his room and tucks into bed for the night.

To his honest surprise, rest comes quickly, and he sleeps well past sunup. He must’ve been more tired than he’d thought. Sitting up, he pauses at the sight of folded clothes atop the chest of drawers nearby.

Seems they’re all taken care of.

Redressing, he makes to pack them only to pause. She even mended a tear in his sleeve from a knife fight he won a few nights back.

Fingering the stitches, he mulls that over before putting everything back in its proper place and hauling the saddlebags down to the main floor.

“Miss Hyūga?” he calls, tone a bit muted in the otherwise-empty building. Sounds come from the kitchen, but he doesn’t want to intrude.

“Breakfast is almost ready!” she replies, offering no further explanation. So, in the meantime, he takes out his bags and greets his mount. Seems they’re just as well-rested, bright-eyed and nickering softly.

“Not much longer and we’ll be back on the road,” he assures them softly.

Back inside, he steps in just as his hostess goes bustling past. “One last meal before you head on your way,” she explains with a smile.

“What’ll I owe you?”

“A dollar typically gets you a day.”

“But you’ve -?”

His counter is waved aside, taking her own seat to dine with him. “As I said, the busywork is a blessing itself. It’s been quiet. The mine that saw so many men come through is all but dried up, so...most of my business is past. A little longer, then I’ll likely move back to the city. It was a fun little venture, but all good things come to an end, I’m afraid.”

Having no retort, Sasuke stands for a moment before joining her. They pass with small talk, the Hyūga woman telling of the town, and Sasuke of his choice in work.

“What an adventure it must be,” she offers wistfully, cradling her mug of tea as the meal comes to a close.

“It’s rarely boring,” he agrees dryly. “But not very steady, or comfortable.”

“I can imagine. But comfortable is often just that: boring,” she replies with a soft smile.

“A happy medium isn’t easy to find.”

“Well...maybe you will someday. At least you’ll have some freedom and excitement. I’ll be heading back to my father’s. Comfortable, but...well, it’s not exactly glamorous under his thumb.”

“Oh…?”

“He’s made his fortune in the oil fields,” she replies with a sigh. “So in reality, there’s little need for me to be here, but...I wanted to try and make my own way. But, as usual...I’ll end up right back where I started.”

Sasuke hesitates. “...I see.”

“But it’s nothing to cry over. I’ll make due. But I’ll miss it here. Meeting so many new people, hearing other stories…”

“Are you...running dry on funds?”

“Yes and no. I could keep pouring money into it, but...there’s just no point, now. Not with no one to pander to.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be. It was fun while it lasted. I’ll survive. I’m just thankful I got the opportunity.”

With that, the conversation mostly dries up, and Sasuke finds he has no real reason to linger. The sooner he leaves, the sooner he’ll reach the next town, and his next bounty.

...but part of him is sad to go.

Hinata tidies up after them, walking out to the porch as he mounts up.

“Thank you very much for your hospitality, miss Hyūga,” he offers genuinely.

“Thank you for the business. But more so the company,” she replies, smiling.

“So...where’s home, if not here?”

“My father has a home in the capital. I’ll return there in a few weeks, likely to just get married off. But...I suppose that’s not a bad thing.”

For some reason, his chest tightens...but he offers no retort.

“If you ever find yourself in the big city, maybe we’ll cross paths again,” she then adds, regaining his gaze.

“...maybe. Probably plenty of crime in the city.”

“Where men go, evil follows.”

HIs lips twitch before giving a polite dip of his head. “Miss Hyūga.”

“Safe travels,” she replies, waving as he makes for the town center. Time to stock up, and hit the trail.

...who knows. Maybe sooner or later it’ll lead to the big city.

     Oookay it’s late so I’ma be brief xD      Wild west AU cuz...reasons. While not really a fan of the genre overall, I do live really rural, so...it’s kinda ingrained into me lol. I’ve written one other piece in it but that was for another ship in another event I hosted last year. I’m no expert by any means xD      I doubt I’ll do more but I guess it depends on where the prompt list takes me, and I guess what you guys think? Buuut for now I’m gonna go sleep - thanks for reading!

[geeky-marie]

Hi! Can I request a fluffy fic with Dewey Finn and the reader, Horace Green’s art teacher crushing on each other and the kids trying to get them together?? I just think it would be so cute, and the kids would probably be really teasing to Dewey 😋😊

Dewey Finn 

School of Rock Musical 

A/N: Thank you for your request, I really like to write it since I’m an artist so the idea came easily. I hope you will like it and you will ask me to write for you again ! 

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

---

The kids had a plan, a perfect plan. 

For weeks now, they saw the little dance you and Dewey were dancing, walking in the corridor together, making jokes and failing to properly flirt . For days, they been each at their turn remove briefly of your class by their music teacher under a stupid pretext, because the man wanted to see you a little bit and having a little ray of sunshine to the rest of his day. For hours, they saw both of you smile like idiots, too shy or not confident enough to make the first step. For minutes now, they were looking if Dewey, lost in his thought, would notice that they had stopped playing their instruments.

The idea came for Summer. As the manager of the band, she proposed that she could talk to Dewey about refreshing the School of rock logo and maybe , absolutely, involve Miss Y/L/N in the project. As an Art teacher you were more able to have some kick ass ideas and draw them beautifully. In this manner, you will both have to collaborate on something and have a real chance to talk and come to the point that you should go on a date. 

“ It’s gonna not work” Zack interrupted playing with his mediator. “ Did you hear him speak to her ? He jokes, failing his attempt to ask her out by changing subject and compliment her Art, but never her. She probably doesn't know he daydreams about her. And put them in a project will don’t change that” 

“ Then, we will have to make him compliment her. My mom always became more flirty with my dad after he told her something nice about her look.” Billy replies.

“ I think I have an idea for that “ Summer continu. “ I will go see Mister Finn after class, maybe he will decide to talk to her directly and we will not have to do all these efforts and we...” 

But the voice of Dewey raised for his desk, taking them by surprise, forced them to put the plan in action sooner.  

“ Hey dudes, what’s happening ? Why do you look like you were planning a bad prank ? “ 

“ Well, actually we were telling that our logo was getting old” The little manager quickly answered, turning on her chair to face him. “ People will become tired of seen it, we should change it “ 

“ The logo is fine Summer, and it’s not always good to change a logo people recognize.” Dewey brushes away, getting up to reach his guitar in his support.

“ Yes but we wanted to ask Miss Y/L/N if she had some ideas for refreshing him at least” Zack continu, giving a supporting look at Summer who’s nod of the head. “ She could help us on this” 

Sitting on the corner of his desk, a now soft smile playing on his lips at your mention, Dewey was playing absently the first chords of Here’s come the Sun from The Beatles.

“ That’s a pretty great idea. I will try to talk to her about it before leaving school…” Dewey agreed, continuing to play the song.

“ Mister Finn, did you correct our test ? My mom wait for it and she’s start to be impatient” The voice of Billy ask from the back of the class, shortly after he gave a look to Summer.

“ Shi...No...I didn’t Billy I will do it tonight” He disappointingly confessed, passing a hand on his face. “ I guess I will have to talk to Y/N tomorrow “ 

A concert of exclamation and joyful noise welcome his answers. 

“ It’s Y/N now then ?” Zack tease, a playful smile brightens his little face. 

“ You should ask her out ! “ Alysha shouted. “ And gave her flowers, us girls love flowers !” 

Getting up from the desk, Dewey raise is hand in a calming sign. 

“ Woah woah woah….Yes Zack for me it’s Y/N, and she’s way out of my league guys...Now stop trying to plays cupid and start to rock “ 

But the kids hadn’t finish to interfere with his love life yet. 

You were staying late at school like always,trying to finish a painting, when Summer entered your class. You weren't really surprised to see her there since the young lady had an overbooked agenda and liked to be in many interscholastic activities. 

“ Miss Y/L/N can I talk to you for a minute ? “ She politely asks you, silently appreciating your almost finished painting. 

“ Of course Summer “ You reply, putting down your brush. 

“ With the band, we wanted to refresh our logo and we think of you to do it.” She annonce, looking like always more adult than many women you know.

A strange sensation seemed to arise in your belly at the mention of the famous band of Horace Green. And more particularly their teacher. You finish by understanding that it was a little deception that he hadn’t come himself to ask you to work on that project. Dewey Finn was awesome, and he totally didn’t know. You have a crush on him, his joke, his wonderful smile, his brillante energies and he didn’t know either. And you will certainly not start to think of his strong arms helping you by lifting your heavier box of material, like he did last week. Not with a too bright young lady at your side.     

 “ I’m really flattered you thought about me to do it Summer. Did you guys have some ideas for me ?” You ask, trying to chase the memory of Dewey of your mind. 

“ Actually Mister Finn had made a list of our ideas, but he had the best so far. He’s in his class right now, come with me we will go see him.” She replied, a strange urge on his voice. 

Your heart since to skip a beat. Dewey was still here ? Getting up from your seat, you follow the little girl, trying without her notice that you were secretly putting your clothes in order. Since the class was over, you had changed into a more artistic and simple attire composed of a shirt, jeans and your old pair of Converse. 

“ Try to stay discrete please, he corrects our copies and he tends to make mistakes if we interrupt him, he will tell us when we can talk” Summer whispers loud enough to you to hear when you stop in front of the open door. 

Entering the room, you follow the path of the little girl. There, sitting at his wooden desk, only god can know how much you have thought of him and this damn desk, Dewey was correcting the paper like Summer had mentioned. His brown lock falling on his forehead, a bored expression on his face. 

“ Mister Finn, I will not bother you for long, I just forgot my notepad.” Summer suddenly said, surprising you, what’s happened to the waiting that he talked to us first ? “ Mister Finn, did you notice that Miss Y/L/N was particularly pretty today ? “ 

The initial surprise was now transformed into shock, at what this little miss was playing. Opening your mouth to interfere, you close it when you heard he answer.  

“ Stupid affirmation Summer. Y/N’s always gorgeous, even with paint in his cheeks. I tell you to don’t play cupid, I'm not enough“ Dewey mutterings without even lifting his eyes from the papers.

A warm feeling seems to burst in your chest. Without being able to stop yourself, you protest. 

“ What, of course you are enough ! “ 

In an instant, Dewey was on his feet, his cheeks red of embarrassment.

“ Oh, hey, Y/N !” He too loudly tells, trying to compose himself.

It then hit you too.

“ Wait you think I'm gorgeous ?” The red reaching now your own cheeks. The marvelous student now forgotten. “ I thought I was the one who was not enough...you were only joking and helping, but you never really do a move or something like that…”

Get around his desk, he was now standing in front of you, his hand passing nervously into his hair. 

“ I was kind of scared you rejected me, look at you. Even in jeans and t-shirt you look like an art goddess. And your so talented.Rock band sing song about girls like you “ 

Smiling, you couldn’t resist longer. Putting your hand on his chest, you slowly kiss his lips. It took him a few seconds, the initial shock passed, to respond to your embrasse. Taking your waist on his hand, He proceeded to give you one of these kisses you remember all your life.

Your eyes closed, your mouth still at only a few inches, you couldn't stop smiling. 

“ Yess ! “ A small voice exclaim bursting your quiet bubble. 

Turning on your heels, you discover Summer, her phone in front of her recording. 

“ Summer, did you...Oh god it’s the prank you were conspired in class today !” Dewey realized.

“ Congratulations Mr Finn, Miss Y/L/N See you tomorrow “ The young girl said before running out, his laugh of joy echoing in the corridor. 

Turning on the arms on Dewey, who never makes a move to let you go, you bite your lips. 

“ So…” You start.

“ A drink ? Now…? “ Dewey suggests. 

“ Finally…Yes “ You joke, kissing his lips for the second time. 

----

The next morning, all the class was excited. The video taken by Summer having made the tour. So, when Dewey passed the door, an unusual smile on his lips so early in the morning, they couldn’t resist teasing him a little.

“ Hey Mister Finn, you have a really pretty Girlfriend “ 

“ You look happy Mister Finn, did you see your Girlfriend this morning ?” 

“ Did she kiss you before you came in class ? “ 

Laughing, Dewey removed his coat, handling his guitar. 

“ Ok ok guys, Thank you, Yes she kissed me before coming here and she’s beautiful. Today we will learn the opposite of Stick it to the man. Kick ass love songs “  

Two classes away, showing your morning student how to draw the light reflecting in an object, you could suddenly hear Dewey playing, I was made from loving you by KISS. You were, indeed, made for each other.   

@sofabearr @beetlebitchywitch

[sol-futura-est]

My father gave me stories of life on the Mephisto. On each deck, of which there were two hundred and twenty three, were a series of residential quarters, on the rear second mile of the ship, in what we all called the bulge of it, before you lead into the neck and later the head. In the bulge, there was artificial gravity, solariums, and an abundance of social areas, but you could not do so much as breathe without being heard. Finding quiet places to be intimate, to do something as small as share secrets, took planning and know how that made it near impossible. One story he had was about how one deck had a case of common cold, and essentially had two thousand infections in less than six hours before the quarantine was called. I couldn’t even infect ten people out here, unless our territory decided to have a harvest festival at the end of game season. Even then, not all of us would be there, and I might not even meet two thousand. It’s hard for me to fathom being able live within five miles of millions upon millions. Men could get stabbed in alleys, but for me, I don’t think I would ever see an alley for myself. Not for a long while at least.

    For the record, my mother and father are still alive. They live on Elysium, a normal sized rock with a prominent city where the liveship made planetfall, the Mephisto. On their capital district, you mostly find trading offices staffed by clerks of all kinds, but just like the Mephisto, you need mechanics to keep things running. That’s his job, but my mother is mostly content to meet my older brothers grandchildren and help around the neighborhood. Last I heard, she had taken up gardening, and had asked me how I do it out here. You’d be surprised how easy it is doing something man has done for over ten thousand years when you start. 

    However, even with my warm tea, the northern sun rising, I find a familiar face coming up the road from the south. This was my nearest neighbor, Jules. Her family was aboard the Capra, another liveship just like the Mephisto.

    “Early riser, I see. How’s the tea Cadmo?”

    “Those traders who came through gave me more than enough,” standing up, I walk over to my stone fence and seat myself next to her. “However, it’s still going to be great whenever we can grow our own.”

    “Tea plantations? You’re ambitious for sure. You’d think the Sikhs kept that to themselves.”

    “I met a few when I was a kid. I don’t even think they’d think twice about it. We’re all friends now, after all. We’ll trade more with ourselves before we get whatever psychoactives the Herastins like taking. Do you think they take it in their exosuit, or do they huff it?”

    “Oh come on, definitely in the suit itself. Bathe in the glow and the mind opens. I’m sure they’re more interesting up close.”

    Two or three times now, I would ask people if they met any of those outworlders, but everyone says no. Lieutenant Azul actually told me he only met one or two in fifty years of service, but it’s expected to go up. Maybe that was just a recruiting tactic.

    “Jules?”

    “Mister Banat.”

    “How’re your crops running?”

    “Same as always, enough to live off of and a little bit to sell. Just enough.”

    “I still can’t get over it all honestly.”

    “Get over what?’

    “I grew up a bit farther away, right? But when my older brother took me all the way out here and gave me this cabin it was like I was meant to be out here, you know? Something drew me here for more than just the sights.”

    “Are you gonna talk about going into the gate again, or is this something different?”

    Although I was still forever content to explore the wilds, you could never disseminate from me; every time I watched the sun rise in the north, within your sight, just a little to the left, was the gate. You saw it every day. How exactly was anyone, much less someone like me, going to ignore it?

    “How can you not be curious Jules?”

    “I like living, and I don’t want to see what lives down there just by myself.”

    “You could get ten of us and go down.”

    “We would be better asking the legion.”

    “No doubt, but then what? Are you gonna join?”

    “I’m not keen on nursing or clerk duties, you might get sent to fight the brigands too. We might not get what we want. I don’t think the corvids plan on going down there.”

    She was right, you know, even if it didn’t shut off my curiousity.

    “Trust me Jules, I won’t go there any time soon, but I’ll be curious.”

    “I hope so. Is there any tea inside?”

    “Yeah, the water is on my stove still boiling, just be careful with it.”

    I trusted her verbosely with my abode and her sentiment was shared. Out here, you know almost every face that comes up the road, you know the cars, you know the horses, and occasionally still, you know the flyers in the sky. 

    Back on Terra, I’m told at least, there was a plethora of life and a majesty in what could be done, how every landscape known to man was never far. Scorching desert, rainforest, and titanic stone mountains could exist within miles of one another. Out here though, it’s most of the same. Our bucks came from Terra, so did the things we farm. We made our new homes almost like imitations of the old than trying to make ourselves too much like the new places. We didn’t try to live in steel homes or prefabs, but found building our homes with our own hands cemented the idea that this was permanent. We were not passing ghosts without a home, but men and women and children who would wield daggers in our teeth for this land and end any who decided to try and take it. One thing our empire was, was militaristic. We had relied on the legion on Terra for nearly a millennium, and so forth, here we are. 

    Even if it might seem like it, we don’t actually get taught much about our life on Terra. We try to put our education into a scope so we can actually live new lives here, not have people obsessing over the past. There was enough to learn here that actually finding out about our ancestors three thousand years ago would be trivial, especially since we don’t sit above them anymore. 

    “How much did that bag of tea actually run you, Cadmo?”

    “Fifty denarii.”

    “Really? Not expensive at all.”

    “I think he had to get rid of it before he got offworld. Quotas or something by the trading company.”

    “So you haggled?”

    “He tried me for two hundred denarii, but I wasn’t gonna give him that much for tea, not when I could buy a tea sapling of my own for that much.”

    “Maybe you should’ve gone for it and made this place the empires tea capital, rather than the Khalistani world.”

    “I’d still have to ask them how to grow it and tend it, though. Not much tea out here.”

    Jules had a streak of pride for the empire. She saw it as order, discipline, and freedom therein. All of that was ultimately true too, but I was always more concerned with this place. Not just the gate, but the ocean, the hills, the mountains. There was an unconfounded beauty in it. When you went to the capital city, when you walked the avenue full of statues of the greats before us, it lost that beauty, even though it was essentially the same stone trimmed down. Something was separate when you saw fields of flowing grass without even one hint of mankind. Nature could conquer land without even lifting a finger, but for us, it was a thousand men at the oars just to move an inch. Our land was not just an endless stretching mystery our hearts resided on and in, but an artwork made by divine hands we could not comprehend. One who lives here, within that great machination, the air, the earth, the sky, does not question that machination. Whenever I saw the glimmering polished giant of the emperor at the head of the forum, I remembered still, both him and the statue were born of Terran stone. 

    Nevertheless, perhaps each nature and man makes his own artwork, for just like we make poison, at times, so does nature, but in the end we appropriate it each. Perhaps in some ways, that gate was a poison for us, a burning curiousity that infected our dreams.

    “When was the last time Lieutenant Azul stopped by your house?”

    “Azul? Probably last month. Why?”

    “I still think about the corvids. Just being able to see everything out there, all the pieces of nature. That’s why we’re out here, right?”

    “I’m trying to be a pioneer, but yeah, I can’t lie about the beauty of this place. Not many better places, there can’t be.”

    “It’d be a nice thing to confirm that.”

    “So join.”

    Something was stopping me, an apprehension I couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was a fear of winding up mostly on a ship, fixing an engine that never seemed to stay fixed, manning cannonades to blast rock, or even the devilish endless monotony of navigating a starship, from wake to wink. 

    “Maybe when the time comes I will. Nothing but time.”

    Long lived youths, still, we remained.

    “When’s your next hunt, Banat? Today?”

    “Should be, yeah. So that means you have to plow some, and when I get back, I have to do the same.”

    “Don’t get hurt out there, will you?”

    “You know I don’t like to get hurt.”

    “Then I’ll see you in a few days

[bastillewolf]

The Grand Tranquility Hotel (IX)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: An eccentric hotel owner and an inquisitive writer find solace in each other when they both seemed to be at the edge of rock bottom.

Notes: This chapter was 7 pages in my Word document. You’re welcome.

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

Chapter IX - Star Treatment

Her leg couldn’t stop the anxious bouncing. It was late, and the sight of her sitting on her bed in her evening dress would’ve probably made a few heads turn if she hadn’t been by herself. It wasn’t often she got this nervous anymore, and certainly not over something like this.

She took a deep breath, before picking up the phone and dialling a familiar number. It rung only three times when a voice answered her.

“Hello?”

“I need you to come over.”

 Nothing that morning had given her any insinuation that she would be calling someone later that night, because they’d only just taken a seat at the breakfast table. “Where’s mister Turner?” she wondered as she grabbed a piece of warm buttered toast. Watching them exchange looks with each other, she grew suspicious. “Uhm, he had some things to take care of, miss. He’ll show up eventually,” Nick hesitantly answered, his eyes darting to Matt to look for some kind of approval.

Said man simply rolled his eyes, adding, “He’s sorting the last things out with the police. It’ll be some time before he can get off the phone.” She hummed, “Was it that difficult to pass such information to me, Nick?” “W-Well, you know how mister Turner can get,” Nick replied, “He doesn’t like it when we talk about his business with others.”

“With others?” she repeated, clearly upset. “I thought I’d done enough to be not just ‘others’. What are you not telling me?” Nick looked downtrodden, casting his eyes upon his lap. “I’m sorry, miss. I wish I could tell you. But mister Turner will probably explain everything later today, you’ll see.” She huffed, throwing her napkin on her half-finished plate before taking off.

Matt clapped his hands, “That went well.”

“Yes, thanks for the help by the way, prick,” Nick grumbled.

“You know Alex would have murdered me if I had told her anything about his plan.”

 Her eyes darted over the words in the book she’d randomly picked up off the shelf, but she couldn’t keep her concentration long enough to understand what they were saying. It was a high amount of frustration built up inside her which she wasn’t sure how to get rid of. After having spent so much time in the hotel owner’s presence, chipping down bits and pieces of his walls and finally getting to the grand finale of hearing the hotel’s biggest secret, she had no clue what there was still left to hide, or why there were reasons to hide anything at all.

She laid her head against the armrest of the loveseat she’d been sulking in, watching the flames in the fireplace flicker and crackle as a piece of char broke off of a wooden log. The heat that spread across her legs was comfortable, and she could have dozed off then and there if it hadn’t been for the small draft tickling the hairs on top of her head. Turning towards the library’s large windows, she noted that none of them had been opened and that the door she’d come in through had been shut when she’d slammed it behind her like an ignorant child. She felt a bit bad about it now, seeing as the woodwork of the door looked intricate and very old.

Her head perked up when she saw something out of the corner of her eye during her investigation of the mysterious draft. It was a thin door, tucked in a corner between the grand bookshelves, which had the same colour of the wood around it. It’s probably why she’d never noticed it before on first glance, or had perhaps initially brushed it off thinking it was some sort of broom closet.

The room she stepped into was rectangular, with the window nearly covering the entire wall of the thinner width of the lounge. She would call it a lounge, though the seating area in the centre had been covered by white sheets to prevent any dust from settling from underusage. In front of the glass panes stood another piece of furniture, one with a distinct shape that told her exactly what it was, but she threw the covers off of it anyway.

The sizable piano wing was stunning, though now she understood the intention of hiding it for it was far too beautiful to be touched by an inexperienced hand.

“Do you play?”

She smiled to herself. She could’ve expected it. “A little. My mother was far more talented, however. She tried to teach me, but I was too impatient for her as a child.”

Alex hummed, sliding his hand along the black shiny coating of the instrument as if he was caressing a marble statue. “One of my business partners gifted it to me,” he told her, “I’d always preferred the guitar, but when I felt like I’d found everything there was to discover with it, I learned to play the piano a bit.” He lowered himself onto the small leather seating, lifting the fallboard to uncover the black and ivory white keys. He patted the space next to him.

She begrudgingly sat down as well, as he began to play an interesting tune.

“I just wanted to be one of The Strokes, now look at the mess you made me make,

hitchhiking with a monogrammed suitcase, miles away from any half-useful imaginary highway,

I'm a big name in deep space, ask your mates, but golden boy's in bad shape,

I found out the hard way that here ain't no place for dolls like you and me,

Everybody's on a barge, floating down the endless stream of great TV,

1984, 2019,

Maybe I was a little too wild in the 70s,

Rocket-ship grease down the cracks of my knuckles…”

She’d almost sighed when the sound of his velvety voice had trailed off and his fingers slid from the keys. “You wrote that?” she asked. He nodded shyly, running a hand through his hair. “You know, if the hotel thing doesn’t work out, you could always just become a poet. Or a singer-songwriter. You have the voice for it.”

He huffed, “You flatter me, writer. But I think if I ever chose the music path I’d need at least five years to make an album. I’d lose my train of thought.” “I highly doubt that,” she remarked. He glanced up at her with his serene brown gaze. “You’re upset about something,” he noticed, “What happened, love?”

She looked at him with indecisiveness, feeling apprehensive about sharing information with the person who was apparently still holding something back from her as well.

“Your staff was very cautious not to tell me where you were this morning,” she decided.

He straightened his back, not quite willing to meet her gaze as he fumbled with the cuffs of his suit, which told her enough. “I had to take care of some business.”

“Okay, good talk.”

He grabbed her hand before she could get up, letting out a deep sigh of defeat. “I’m sorry, love. But you’ll have to hear about it later today.”

“I thought you were trusting me, Alex.”

“I am. You’ll like it, so there’s no need to worry.”

His face hovered closer to hers. “It’s something for you, after all.” He gently moved her hair and placed a soft kiss behind her ear, before leaving a breathy trail along her throat, not quite touching her but still making her tingle all over. When he reached her lips, he finally kissed her, but it was only brief. “I’ll pick you up at 7. Wear something nice.”

 What a bastard, she kept thinking to herself. How dare he put her in such a situation? The audacity.

She was standing in front of her closet. It wasn’t usual for her to unpack her suitcase when staying at a hotel, but from the beginning on having not known how long she was staying, this was one of the rare occasions that her clothes didn’t have as many wrinkles as they usually would have because she’d been wise enough to put them on the hangers.

It was where she’d decided that she had absolutely nothing that could fall under the phrase ‘something nice’.

Anything she did have was either bluntly denied because it seemed too floozy, or thrown onto her bed because it was ‘too nice’. Her mother’s to go response for a clothing crisis such as this one had always been plain and simple; ‘wear something classy, yet comfortable’, but she now felt like she should have asked her for a bit more details.

Her makeup was done in what she usually would have thrown on if she had gone out, with only the right shade of lips missing because that came after the first crisis. She only had about half an hour left and she was still sat on her bed in her fluffy white robe, wondering if she should even go at all.

A knock came from her door and her stomach sunk, but she decided that it would be better to yell at him for being early than not answering at all. When she opened the door a tad so only her eyes could peek out, she wasn’t expecting to see Matt. He raised his eyebrows at her when she only blinked at him. “Can I help you?” she muttered; her voice slightly muffled behind the woodwork.

Matt raised his arms which held a beautiful bouquet of white roses. “A peace offering?”

When she allowed him to step in, he glanced over the mess of clothes she’d made before turning to her with a smirk on his face. “Is someone nervous?” he teased. “I thought you were here to make peace, not war?” she questioned in annoyance, crossing her arms over her chest. He smiled awkwardly, “Sorry, ma’am. About this morning, too. Me and the boys never meant to offend you in any way. We see you as a part of the family now and were only being secretive because Alex was so adamant on surprising you with dinner.”

She raised her brows in pleasant surprise. “He’s taking me out to dinner?”

He froze. “Well- it’s only in the dining hall, to be fair- I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She patted his arm comfortingly. “You’re forgiven if you help me pick out a dress.”

 It turned out Matt’s fashion sense was a lot better than she’d expected, because he had her dressed and ready to go in no time and had even managed to find a pair of matching shoes for her classy-but-comfortable evening dress. She did her fifth once-over in the mirror after having applied her red lipstick, and it made Matt smile. “You look beautiful, miss.”

Her cheeks warmed. “Thank you, Matthew.”

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m gunna pop off before Alex sees me in the same room as his lady looking all fancy,” he muttered, taking a glance at his watch. Before she could ask all about his particular choice of words to describe her, he had unfortunately already taken off.

 It was the next time she opened the door that made her chest almost burst with giddiness. Alex wore an all-black suit, which, like all of the others he wore, was tailored to the detail. His hair was slicked back with only the front cuff hanging over his forehead, giving him a classic bad boy appearance. He smelled like expensive cologne and a hint of cigarette smoke. He managed to look irresistibly attractive and not just because she’d always had a thing for men who smelled good.

He let his eyes wander over her body and it nearly made her shy if she hadn’t felt so good in the dress she was wearing. He looked about ready to cancel the date and just push her up against the wall then and there, and a small part of her kind of wished he had. “You look absolutely ravishing, love,” he growled. It made her lips quirk up and she had to restrain herself not to break into a full smile out of excitement. It had been a long time since she’d felt like this. “You clean up nicely yourself, mister Turner.”

He huffed, “You’re killing me, love. Call me Al, Alex or Alexander or I won’t last the whole evening.” She pursed her lips with amusement in response. “Good to know.”

 She’d held onto his arm the entire trip downstairs and he seemed very willing to keep her close to his side, slowing his stride to match her pace and glancing down at her ever so often. It made her realize how nice it was for someone to return her affections so delicately.

She’d almost burst out laughing when she saw Matt awaiting them in full tux, bowtie and all, looking like a proper waiter. “If you start laughing I’ll throw them flowers out of the window, miss,” he frowned. She smirked at him, as Alex scolded, “Be nice to the lady, Matthew.” “Well, I would be if I could just remember why I actually agreed to doing this.”

“Don’t worry, Matt. I’ll even tip you at the end of the night if you haven’t thrown my flowers out by then,” she joked. He snorted, before gesturing for the both of them to follow him into the hall.

It was the usual setup of tables, only this time their particular spot had been decorated with a few candles and small but classy bouquets of dried wildflowers. “So, it is a date, then,” she commented, noting the table was only set for two. Alex blinked at her blankly, before replying, “I’m sorry, would you have wanted to have a candlelit dinner with someone else?”

Matt intervened, “Now that you mention it, I’m actually quite hungry-“ before Alex shoved his elbow into his side, making the temp waiter groan. She laughed at their antics, telling the hotel owner, “No, Alex. I wouldn’t have wanted to share it with anyone else.” It made Alex perch up in delight as Matt simply gasped in an overexaggerated portray of betrayal.

Ever the gentleman, he pulled out a chair for her, only taking his own seat when he knew she was comfortable. “Now, may I finally take your order?” Matt asked, taking a notepad and pen from his jacket’s pocket. “And you’ve always wondered why I never let you be a waiter,” Alex muttered as his eyes scanned over the menu.

When Matt left them with their requests written down, Alex leaned back into his chair, seeming to finally relax a bit. “Did you spend all morning planning this?” she wondered. He shrugged, “The thing that took me the most time was to convince the guys to play along.” “And how did that work out?” “Let’s just say that when they started making ridiculous demands in return I reminded them of who’s really in charge here.” “So, you had to bribe them anyway?” “Yes.”

They shared a smile; one she could only ever get from this joyful banter she shared with him. It made her appreciate him doing this for her even more.

“Have you started your novel yet?” he finally decided to ask. She leaned her elbows on the table a bit, giving him a questioning look. “Do you actually want me to start a novel?” He hummed, “I’m not sure yet.” “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, Alex. If you don’t want people to know about it, my lips are sealed.”

“I know, which is why you’re the first person I haven’t completely shut down the idea of a book about the hotel with. I just need a bit more time to think about it.”

“I understand. Take as much time as you need.” She mulled it over for a moment, thinking of how the book would be plotted out if it ever were to happen. Her lips quirked back up a bit. “But, in the probability that a novel might be written, I suppose I’d have to inquire a bit more about the hotel owner himself.”

His eyebrow was raised in amusement. “What would you like to know?”

“Well, I already know you’re a literature fanatic. But I didn’t know you were as much into the art of music as you’ve shown me this afternoon.”

He nodded, “It’s always played a big part in my life. It started when I became a big fan of the Strokes when I was younger. Wanted to be a part of their band or create one of my own, which is partially why I started playing the guitar. Me, Jamie, Nick and Andy even used to play a few gigs here and there while we were in school.” “Would have loved to see that.” “I’m sure you would have, even if it was just to laugh at my stupid haircut.”

“I wouldn’t dare laugh at you mister Turner,” she smirked, “Even having heard of the fact that you’re really just a big science fiction nerd.” He narrowed his eyes. “Who told you?” “I inquired one of your dear friends about it, who was very happy to tell me all about your obsession with Blade Runner and the sort.”

“So, you spoke to Miles.” She shrugged, as he continued, “You can say anything you want about that movie, but you can’t deny that Harrison Ford was fantastic in it.” She sucked in a breath, “I’ve never seen Blade Runner.”

She snorted when his eyes widened. “What do you mean, you’ve never seen Blade Runner?”

Lifting her shoulders, she replied, “I’ve never really had the patience to watch it.”

“Outrageous. I can’t believe I’ve told you all my secrets when you haven’t even seen that masterpiece.”

“Guess I’m just that good,” she noted with a twinkle in her eye.

It wasn’t long after when Matt barged back in with their dinner and a bottle of a very expensive-looking champagne sitting in a tub of ice. “You don’t have to open that. Save it for a special occasion,” she objected, but Matt only looked to Alex, who nodded. A pop of a bottle opening followed, and it made her sigh. “You can’t expect us to not go all out tonight, Miss,” Matt explained, “You mean more to us than you think. If you’re lucky I’ll even show you a magic trick.”

“You’re not showing her a magic trick, Matthew,” Alex said.

“Bummer. It’s really good.” As he was about to leave, she mouthed ‘later’ at him, which he peaked up at a bit.

“You shouldn’t encourage him,” the hotel owner commented, having seen her little act, “He nearly drove me off the road once while trying to show me a card trick.” “It’s endearing.” “I think I prefer the phrase ‘bothersome’.”

As they dug in, she went to ask a bit more about the hotel itself, her curiosity being indulged by his acceptance to tell her almost everything now. “What’s the most visited room?” He snorted, “Pretty obvious, really. The honeymoon suite.”

“You have a honeymoon suite?” she asked incredulously. “I already knew you’re secretly a romantic at heart, Alex, but really?”

“It’s easy money,” he begrudgingly admitted. “You call something a ‘honeymoon suite’, make sure they get the best view and shove cheesy rose petals and chocolates in their face and you’re all set.” “I don’t think that’s true.” He quirked an eyebrow in question. “I think you enjoy it,” she told him, “if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have set this whole dinner up just for me.”

“Well, when you only have one guest, you have to keep them entertained somehow.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “What else would you do to keep me entertained, mister Turner?”

His gaze remained in a trance with hers, not once wavering. He mirrored her, setting his elbows on the table and propping his chin upon his intertwined fingers. “What do you suggest, writer?”

“Dance with me,” she said.

“There’s no music.”

“Then sing that song from this afternoon.”

 He’d slid an arm around her waist without a second thought, his other hand taking hers in a warm embrace. Lifting her other one to his shoulder, she had to remember to breathe while being in such close proximity to him. Though he had intimidated her from the beginning, from the moment they’d met, even, she now felt like she’d molten into a puddle in his arms, like the feeling you’d get after a deep tissue massage. It made her wonder what it was about him that could flick a switch in her so quickly.

“I just wanted to be one of those ghosts, you thought that you could forget,

And then I haunt you via the rear-view mirror on a long drive from the back seat,

But it's alright, cause you love me, and you recognize that it ain't how it should be,

Your eyes are heavy and the weather's getting ugly,

So, pull over, I know the place…”

It didn’t take long for them to fall into an absolute trance with each other, just shuffling back and forth between the empty tables as Alex’ voice lulled her into the thought that what she felt for him was something she’d never meant to feel for him before. But she was glad it had happened, because what it was that she felt, did feel completely right.

 She twisted the key in the lock, opening the door to her room with a click that broke their little silence. She turned back to look at him. He had a hand in his trousers’ pocket, the other holding the jacket he’d swung over his shoulder. “Good night, mister Turner,” she said. “Good night, love. I had a lot of fun.”

He leaned in to kiss her deeply, and she closed her eyes at the unmistakable feeling of electricity sparking between them again. It was as if every touch of his lips was something better than the last, and when he slipped his tongue along her bottom lip, she had to steady herself to not lose her balance. He breathed through his nose when she lifted her leg to wrap around him, sliding sensually upwards while he prickled her mouth with as much preservation he was somehow still able to hold.

She felt defeated when he pulled back, slightly out of breath. “I’ll see you at breakfast, writer.”

“You better.”

He smirked, gliding a hand down her lifted thigh before gently lowering it. “If there’s anything else, just call me. I’ll be here in a whim.”

She refrained from making a Batphone joke, not wanting to ruin the moment while she forlornly watched him go back to 505. It made her think about something her mother had once said to her. ‘Grab love by the shoulders and shake it before you find you left it too late.’

 Though the hotel owner certainly had made the implication, he hadn’t expected to receive the phone call a bit later that night while he was still reeling about the night’s events on his bed.

“I need you to come over.”

[ellana-ravenwood]

Jason Todd and the Haunted Manor - Jason Todd x Batmom

Synopsis : Jason Todd, 8 and three quarter years old, is 100% sure Wayne Manor is haunted. And that the ghosts HATE him. 

I wrote a few fics with only Damian and Batmom, or Tim and Batmom...but never just Dick or Jason. Which I thought I should fix. So here’s a little mom/son bonding with Jason, based on a headcanon I’ve had for years about mister Todd. I also very much like pre-death Jay who was such a brat and yet so cute, and affection/attention starved <3. So...here it is, hope you’ll like it : 

My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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                                                    ******

When he was a kid, Jason used to run as fast as he could from his bedroom to the one you shared with Bruce, and jump in between you and your husband, terrified.

For the longest time, you never really thought much about it.

After all, Dick too, in the early months (even years) of living with you and Bruce at the Manor, sneaked into your bed at night, and settled himself inbeetween the both of you.

Your eldest son used to have night terrors. Used to wake up after nightmares of re-living his parents’ death. He always woke up with a start, mouth open on a soundless scream. So distressed and afraid that no noise could get out of his mouth. And then, more often than not with tears in his eyes, he would drag himself across the Manor to come and shyly enter the master’s bedroom.

At first, he stood there for a long time, and waited for you or Bruce to eventually notice him (which you always did, feeling someone watching you in your sleep, and therefor waking up) and tell him he could come sleep with you. More than once, you woke up with a start as you saw his little silhouette in the opening of the door, peaking in, unsure if he was allowed to enter or not.

But overtime, he stopped asking and just took the habit to climb into bed with you two, and settle himself comfortably in there.

Bruce would often grumble because Dick basically pushed him away from you (and wasn’t particularly delicate about it), took his arms off of you, so he could sneak in the middle…but he didn’t actually mind, of course. 

As long as he could feel one of his loved one’s warmth near him, Bruce Wayne could sleep soundly.

Ever since his parents’ death, sleep never really quite came to him when alone. As a child he used to ask for Alfred to stay with him. But then when he grew up…he had to wait years before you finally saved him. And before he could sleep properly once again.

It’s one of the reason he always let Dick sneak into bed, because him too remembers a time where he woke up in the middle of the night, sweating and in tears, and wishing for someone to be there to hold him. 

Naturally, if he could give the kid this safety…Then he would. 

Bruce never  “half-assed” anything, you often said. And you were right. When he decided to adopt Dick, you could be sure that he’d do his best to be the parent figure the little one needed. Which came as a surprise to so many people who didn’t know him outside of « work related » things.

He remembers the shock on Clark’s face, when Dick, 9 years old, came up the League’s Watchtower for the first time. First of all, who knew Batman had a son ?! And a wife, since that day you followed too…neither you nor Bruce could quite remember why you all went up that day, but you did. 

To be honest, it was probably because Dick asked and no matter what Bruce said, he was never really good at refusing something to his kids. 

But what shocked Clark the most was how patient he was with the kid. Dick asked three hundred questions a minute, and Bruce answered each and everyone of them, even the kinda embarassing/silly ones like “were does the water go when you flush the toilet, since we’re in space ?”. 

At that time, Bruce an Clark’s friendship just started to bud, so Superman had no idea that the big, scary, unforgiving and cold Batman could be so…sweet ? 

At some point, Bruce went to check something on the computer, and you were left with Dick and Clark (it was the beginning of the League, there wasn’t many people up that tower yet, and Bart and Diana were probably busy with their own things…oh the good old days, now, the place was always bustling with activities). 

The bags under your eyes must have been bigger than you thought, because Clark asked you if you were alright. You simply said you were tired, and that’s when you got a bit scared that you broke the allmighty Man of Steel. 

Dick said it was probably his fault that you didn’t sleep well, because he snuck in your bed again and was always quite an agitated sleeper. He was pretty sure he punched Br-Batman in the nose…

Clark just stared at the both of you, unable to wrap his head around the fact that Batman, THE Batman, who never smiled, cracked a joke, who was always serious and focused and all…let his kid climb into bed after a nightmare ? 

You never understood why Clark couldn’t believe that fact. Bruce, when he was Batman, wasn’t the real Bruce. And of course that in the intimacy of his own home, he would be more tender and nice. Especially to his son. 

And to Bruce ? Who knew how it felt to be a little kid, all alone and scared and wanting some reassurance and a good hug ? Of course he’d let the boy climb in bed if he needed comfort, he could really relate to him.

Yes, in the early years of Dick living in the Manor, he used to often sneak into bed with you and Bruce. It lasted for quite a while, before he could finally sleep again. Before the nightmares became rare, if non-existant. Before he finally felt like he was safe and loved once more, like he had a family again.

So when Jason started to jump into bed as well, in the middle of the night, you didn’t think much of it either.

You just assumed he too, needed to feel safe and warm. God only knew how much that child needed it.

And just like with Dick, you never minded it. You and Bruce would both welcome him inbetween you any time he wanted.

He always told you “I had a nightmare” and you never thought much of it. This was exactly the same scenario than with your eldest son.

Exactly the same scenario ? Not quite.

Jason never waited at the door of your room, too shy to come in and say he had a nightmare. He immediately jumped in bed, looking terrified. 

You just assumed, at the time, that his nightmares were more “conventional”. Unlike Dick, Jason didn’t witness his parents’ murder, though he didn’t have an easy childhood either and god knew what he saw, living in the streets ?

Adding to the fact he never hesitated to jump in your bed, he also never came calmly from his room to yours. You and Bruce would often be awake by the time he’d arrive in your bedroom, because you’d hear his little feet pound the floor as he ran full speed from his room to yours ! 

You knew he tried to stay silent, to move stealthily, but you always heard how hurriedly he’d come over, running as fast as he could. 

Dick would calmly walk from his room to yours (both their rooms were pretty close from yours. Later, they’d change and move to the West Wing, as far as possible from your bedroom for…  « reasons », but at the beginning, you made sure they were close in case…Well, in case they needed you late at night), Jason would rush, in a panic. That was a pretty big difference, that at the time, you didn’t really pay attention to.

But again, given the history of the boy and such, you never once questioned why he looked so scared when he came in your room. He said he had a nightmare. You accepted his explanation and would rock him back to sleep, or sandwich him between you and Bruce, warm and safe.

You would never, EVER have guessed that the reason your son, that you always thought to be so brave and without any fear, ran to your bedroom at night was because…He was certain that Wayne Manor was haunted.

And that the ghosts HATED him.

************

The first night Jason spend at Wayne Manor was also his first encounter with them. Which made sense, of course they’d come to him as soon as he arrived !

Bruce was out on patrol, but he kissed him goodnight before leaving. This was still the very early days of Jason becoming your son, but already the boy accepted that kiss. 

Thanks to his experience with Dick, Bruce wasn’t as lost as he used to be when faced with kids (even if lately, as Dick left to join the “Teen Titans”, his relationship with his father wasn’t the best…your eldest rarely stayed in the Manor anymore, prefering to be away in the Titans’ headquarter. Actually, it had been months since last time Dick stayed the night home, and he only came to see you and Alfred and…oh, but that was another story), and this said experience made it easier for Bruce to instantly bond with his new son.

Well, not quite instantly. When he saw that little kid steal the Batmobile’s tyres, Bruce wasn’t really amused…

And Jason ? Jason craved love and attention so much that although he was suspicious at first because everything seemed too good to be true, he ended up letting things happening pretty easily. Well, just like any 8 years old who just wanted to be cared about. 

Plus, he was very excited at the idea of being the new Robin, even if he wouldn’t wear the costume for  quite a while (about a year, in fact, and only after intensive training with his father).

That first night started really well. 

He got a kiss from his new dad (who was, by the way, supposedly known to not show affection much…but something told Jason that was just appearances, and that the Batman was much sweeter than he’d let on), a goodnight snack from that great guy called Alfred (he made him his favorite cookies ! And he was allowed to eat it in bed !), and his new mom…

His new mom (the only one that acted like a mom to him really), you, read him a bed time story. Which turned into two bed time stories, because you really couldn’t resist how cute he looked asking for more. 

After the fifth story, you decided it was enough and made the boy promise he wouldn’t tell anything to his father (Bruce would NEVER let it go that you just didn’t seem to be able to say « no » when kids gave you their best puppy eyes…).

It was 10 pm when you left him, after a few kisses goodnight and a tickle war (you really were weak in front of his cuteness, and the only way you found to escape him asking for another story was to tickle him until he begged you to stop  and forgot all about books). 

You went back to your room, making sure he knew you weren’t far (you’d usually be down in the Batcave but you and Alfred made an agreement that you’d each take turn down there, even more so when the kids were young. There was NO WAY you’d let them alone in the house at night, even if technically you were not far, just right under them...).

And for the first two hours, nothing happened. 

Until the giant clock’s gong, that was in the living room, resonated in the entire house. Jason wasn’t quite sure if it was the clock or…something else, that woke him up at that exact moment. 

But what he knew, is that all of a sudden, he was wide awake while he was sleeping peacefully just a few seconds ago. In a real bed, for the first time in a very VERY long time.

He sat up, wondering if maybe he just heard Bruce coming back from being Batman ? If it was him, then he wanted to greet him back, no matter if the man was going to scold him because it was late ! 

Jason threw his cover off of him, and jumped on his feet. Ah and he was definitely hearing footsteps in the corridor, they were coming right in front of his room now ! Excitedly, Jason ran to his door and flung it open and…Nothing. 

And no one.

“Bruce ?”

No answer. Jason flicked his eyes to his digital alarm clock and a thought invaded his head…Midnight ? It was much too early for Batman to stop patrolling ! Bruce would only come back up in the early hours of the morning !

Maybe he heard you walking back to your room in the corridor ? Sure it was weird that the footsteps immediately stopped as soon as he opened the door, but maybe you just went back in your room at that exact same time ! 

Were you still awake ? Maybe he could convince you that he couldn’t sleep, and you’d read him some more stories ? Curious, he went to your bedroom. 

The light in was definitely switched off. He opened the door slowly, and…you weren’t there. Mm. But the footsteps definitely went in that direction ! Maybe it was Alfred ? Oh oh, or maybe you went to get a drink, or maybe you couldn’t sleep and was walking around the manor ?

He closed the door to your room again, and looked around in the dark corridor. 

Jason has never been afraid of the dark, he had much more worries as a kid than monsters lurking in the shadows. He had very real monsters, back home…

So when he took a look on both sides of the corridor, he wasn’t scared at all. And didn’t feel the need to switch the light on. Even more so since he had no idea where the light switch was in that long ass corridor anyway ?

But though he wasn’t scared, he had a strange uneasy feeling in his chest. And suddenly, all he wanted to do was to look for you. Make sure you were still here.

He turned towards where he thought the footsteps went, and started to walk…The creasing sound of his bedroom door slowly closing made him stop dead in his track. 

He turned around, and in the dim light of the moon, definitely saw the door inexorably closing by itself ! In the last few inches left, the door slammed shut, making him jump in the air, and without really knowing why, he started to run towards where he thought you were.

Did he left his window open ? It was a bit hot today, in that warm summer night, but he couldn’t quite remember if he left the window open or not…

He ran down the corridor. 

Now he could go downstairs, or continue further and up to the next level but…Why would you go upstairs at this time of the night ? There was only guest rooms and unused bathrooms !

Sure you told him sometimes you walked around when you couldn’t sleep, but you also said you’d often go in the living room to watch a movie…

Down, or up ?

It seemed easier to go down, and so Jason rushed down the stairs, almost falling over in his hurry. 

Something really didn’t feel right, but he wasn’t sure what. He knew that it wasn’t the fear of you abandoning him and not being in the house, because deep down, he knew neither you nor Bruce would ever do that ! 

So why was he so freaked out ? He couldn’t even remember the last time he was this afraid ! 

The door of his room closing was probably just because he really did forget to close his window, and the footsteps ? It was most likely you, of course ! Or maybe just his imagination ! After all, this was an old house where the wood always creaked and cracked.

Just as he was thinking that, he heard a sinister cracking sound right behind him. 

What was that ? The steps right ? They were made of wood too so it was totally normal, right ?

He was now downstairs in the foyer, and everything seemed so different at this time of the day…Jason’s never been afraid fo the dark, as he had his own very real monsters back home. But here ? With his new family, in his new home ? There were no monsters anymore, and yet…yet the shadows stretched in ways that he never noticed before.

Pausing just for a second as he realized how scary the night could be, he started to hurry down the next corridor again, still looking for you. The living room right ? It was that next room on the left, right ?

Jason wasn’t quite sure. 

Alfred showed him around earlier in the day, but there were so many rooms, he didn’t remember everything. He remembered where the kitchen was, where his room and yours were, and also the toilet (one of them) but the living room.

Jason flung the door he thought led to the living room open and…It wasnt’ the living room. It was…god knew what kind of room. 

It had a pool table and a desk, and that was the only things Jason could see.

Suddenly extra aware of how dark everything was, he looked for a light switch.

In the long corridors, he couldn’t find where the switches were. But here…here he found it immediately and flipped it up. 

Light poured in the room, and the boy sighed in relief.

Ok. Well, this wasn’t the living room, but it was an interesting place nonetheless. He could stay here for a few minutes, collect his thought and try to remember where the hell was the living room ?

He was- 

The light flicked once, twice, buzzed and then...turned off.

Jason was completely in the dark again. He had taken a few steps in the room and turned around so fast he got a little lightheaded. 

Was that why he saw a figure at the door frame ? Probably. Hopefully. One thing was sure, is that it wasn’t you. 

The only light now was coming from the corridor and the open door, as for some reasons every curtains in the room Jason ended in were closed (the boy later found out that it used to be Bruce’s father office, and except for Alfred who went there to dust things over from times to times, no one ever entered it). 

But slowly, once again, Jason saw the door closing by itself. And this time there was no window open for sure !! 

He rushed to the door, but was too late, it was already closed and couldn’t goddamn budge no matter how much he tried to open it ! He tried to get the light to turn on again, but no matter how many times he flipped the switch, he was still in the dark. 

And as he was fighting to get the door open, came the moment he realized that the fear at the back of his mind that he tried to ignore by rationalizing what happened so far...was the truth. 

As he heard someone breathe right next to his ear ! And what kind of rationalized reason could explain such an event ? 

Jason screamed. At the top of his lungs. 

It seemed like hours went by, as he was properly terrified and unable to open the door ! But realistically, only a few seconds happened when...

The door opened. 

Jason got blinded by the light pouring in from the corridor. And warm arms wrapped around him. At first, he fought them, afraid that it would be “them”, until he realized...

You. 

It was you. 

He recognized your soothing voice trying to calm him down, and the way your hands were slowly caressing his hair. 

You did that too, the first time you met him, after Bruce scared the hell out of him by tying him up in the bat cave when he found him staling the bat mobile’s tyres (long story short, you weren’t happy and though Bruce explained his reasoning, you scolded him for a long time, and soothed that poor boy you didn’t even know for even longer). 

Jason let go of all his emotions at the same time, the fear stacking up all of a sudden in the past few minutes leaving his body as he fell in your arms and cried on your shoulder. 

You carried him back up, and he got scared you were about to put him back in his bed, all alone..but you got him all the way to your bedroom, and made room for him in your bed. 

He fell asleep in your arms, feeling safe and warm, and wondering if he had just dreamt those events or not ? 

************

He woke up when he heard Bruce’s voice, but didn’t open his eyes, listening in to the conversation you were having with your husband. 

“-such a softie.” 

Were the words that woke him up. 

“Maybe I am, but...you should’ve seen him my Broosh, he was so scared !”

“What happened ?”

“I’m not sure. I found him screaming in your father’s office. The lightbulb got out, and I think in his panic he was trying to open the door inward while for some random reason, that door was build to open outward.” 

...Outward ? Jason recalled himself opening it inward for sure ! 

“Really ? What was he doing in my father’s office ?” 

“I don’t know ? Probably couldn’t sleep and went wandering around. Like I do when I can’t sleep ?” 

“What do you think scared him ?” 

“Well, thinking you’re locked up in a dark room in a house like yours would be enough to scare any kid, my heart.” 

It would indeed scare any kid. But not Jason. Jason’s never been afraid of the dark, and never believed in...in...

“That is true. I hope-I hope he’ll be ok.” 

Bruce’s worries soothed the little boy’s heart a little bit more. It made him feel better, that he was cared for. Even if he just discovered that...That...

“He will. It’s his first night here, it’s a bit overwhelming you know ? This is very new. And your house is scary. Dick too ended up in our bed, I recall.” 

“That he did. And stop calling it “my” house, I’ll have you know it’s yours too...and his.” 

Jason felt a large hand softly ruffling his hair, and almost gave the fact that he was awake away by smiling. But he held it in, as he didn’t want to explain why he ended up in that dark room all alone in the middle of the night. 

He felt the bed shift, and guessed Bruce was climbing into it. Some added warmth wrapped around him, and he knew Bruce climbed into it. 

And Jason fell back asleep, feeling safe and loved. 

His first night in the Manor wasn’t a complete disaster. It was actually pretty good, really...If we forgot the fact he just discovered that ghosts were real ! 

************

Over the next few weeks, Jason tried to rationalize and find explanation about that first scary night. But the more he thought about it, the more there wasn’t any explanations !

And as days after days, he spend more time in the house, he found that...Something fishy was definitely going on.

When it was daylight, even if he was alone, everything was alright. Nothing weird happened. But as soon as the night fell, as soon as things got dark...All hell broke loose !

Jason saw objects moving on their own, doors opening and closing, and he kept hearing footsteps in the corridors at night, over and over, even if he knew no one was there !

Voices too, sometimes, calling him in his sleep and waking him up ! 

To him, and his 8 years old mind...it proved that ghosts were real. And apparently, those ones didn’t like him very much !

Sometimes, when he was really tired, he’d sleep through the night without hearing anything. Sometimes, the ghosts left him alone. 

But sometimes, it seemed they were particularly angry and kept messing around with him, scaring him to death ! Those times...those times were the moment he ran from his room to yours, and snuck into bed with you and Bruce. 

He never screamed, as he was sure that’s exactly what the ghosts wanted and didn’t want to give them satisfaction...But he was afraid, oh so afraid. 

Night after night, he waited for them. 

It was worst when they didn’t show up. It was proof to Jason that they were just being mean to him. Playing with his expectations, his stress. 

The boy didn’t dare talk to you about it, because it was clear neither you nor Bruce ever noticed that ghosts roamed the manor ! Dick, who occasionally came to the house, when Bruce was away, never noticed either, given how he reacted when Jason asked if he believed in ghost. 

His older brother just laughed, believing the boy was just joking around...No one who witnessed what Jason witnessed could react like that at the word “ghost”. 

Afraid that they’d think he’s crazy, or a wimp...He didn’t say a word. He stayed silent, running in fear to his parents’ bedroom whenever the ghosts were going too far. He suffered in silence, not daring to tell to anyone that sometimes, not all the times, ghosts who hated him were keeping him up all night. 

************

About a month after he moved in with you and Bruce, Jason asked his dad about his house and its history, and the man strangely didn’t know much about it ! Except for the date it was built in, and which of his ancestors did it…Bruce added he never really cared for Wayne Manor’s history, but that he was pretty sure there was books, or rather, registers about it somewhere in the library. 

When he asked Jason why he wanted to know, the boy simply said he was curious. And Bruce was content with that explanation, after all, Jason did ask a lot of questions about a lot of things.

That very same day, Jason went to the house’s massive and well furnished library, and started his research, determined to know who were those ghosts that hindered his sleep !

He found a few books talking about the Wayne family, and man did sometimes things turned gruesome ! When he asked Bruce about the alleged murders and such surrounding some of his oldest family members, the man simply shrugged and said that his family was one of the first in Gotham, almost build the city single-handedly along a few other families, and always been rich. 

And whenever there was money, power and fame ? There was terrible stories and awful things happening. Bruce then proceeded to reassure the boy that his family hadn’t been like that in at least a century, and blahblahblah...But Jason didn’t need the reassurance. 

He knew Bruce was a good man. He knew his parents were good people too, and his grandparents too...No, what he wanted to know what was the possibility of one of the “bad” Wayne still lingering in their manor ?

Who was coming at night to haunt him ? And why were they haunting only him ?! After a lot of research, Jason was pretty sure he knew who were the ghosts that had something against him. 

He was pretty sure that the leader of the pack was one particular angry man...

Theodore Hamish Wayne. 

He was a ruthless businessman and politician, whose opponents tended to just...”disappear”. It was rumored he killed his own son-in-law because the man was a nobody with no money, and dared marrying his daughter in secret ! 

Of course, nothing was ever proved...but if even his own daughter was sure he was the culprit ? Chances were, he was. He just had the power and money to make evidence...”disappear” too. 

To make things worst, and that’s what made Jason think he didn’t go into the after-life, the man died in odd circumstances...in what was now Bruce’s father old office ! 

“Odd circumstances.” It seemed like it was a suicide, and people would understand why he did it as at that time he was an old and bitter lonely man that everyone abandoned...But things in the police report didn’t make sense. However, he was such a hated man that no one looked further into it. 

His daughter took back Wayne Inc, and the family became beloved again, after a few decades of Theodore spreading fear all across Gotham City. 

Since Theodore’s daughter took back the entire family’s estate, the Wayne family stayed well loved, all the way to Bruce now. But before him ? There were some nasty people. And good old Theo ? He was definitely the worst one. 

There were others too, that died in and around the Manor that could still be here. And none of them were great people. All of them were pretty arrogant, and proud of being Waynes and...All of a sudden, Jason thought he understood why they were being so mean to him in particular ! 

He was a street kid ! 

He was exactly the kind of person Theodore’s daughter married ! The kind of person the first few Waynes made “disappear” when they got too close from their family ! The kind of person that would bring shame to them if associated with them !

He was a nobody ! A POOR nobody ! 

How could they accept him becoming part of their prestigious family ? 

But of course. That’s why no one else could feel the ghosts ! That’s why they only attacked him when he was alone ! 

You might come from a poor neighborhood too, but when Bruce married you, you were already a famous (and wealthy) author ! Good enough to be a Wayne. 

And Dick ? He was from a family of circus performers, which didn’t sound great on paper but...Didn’t Dick once said his mom had some royal blood from eastern Europe or something ? Was that enough to be worthy of becoming a Wayne ? Plus, technically Dick wasn’t actually adopted, but was Bruce’s ward. It wasn’t quite the same thing. 

But Jason ? There was official adoption papers. And though he didn’t change his last name (yet ?), he was officially a Wayne. 

And how could a man like Theodore, or the likes of him, accept this ? 

Yes. Young 8 years Old Jason Todd was sure of it. 

The ghosts in Wayne Manor were usually discreet, because they didn’t mind the house’s inhabitants. But a good-for-nothing nobody like him ? Living there ? In one of the biggest room ? And daring to become part of the family ?! 

Of course, that would cause a raucous. And make them angry. 

Yes. Yes that was the only explanation ! 

************

“I live here now. Wether you like it or not ! I’m-I’m Bruce’s son ! I am ! He’s my dad ! And this will NEVER change so you’d...You’d better leave me alone !” 

Jason said at the footstep he was hearing from the corridor. And as soon as he ended his sentence, the footsteps stopped. Right in front of his door. 

“I live here and I’m not going anywhere ! This is my home !” 

And it was true. Even with the “occasional haunting”, he still considered Wayne Manor as his home. And he loved this house...when it was daylight, or when he was with his loved ones. 

Ah. But nothing could be perfect, right ? His life now that he had a new family HAD to have at least one flaw. And if that flaw were ghosts...

The boy grabbed his flashlight, and lit the entrance to his room. When the flashlight started to flicker. No, no not again ! 

The door slowly opened, his favorite book, that he was currently reading and that was sitting on his desk, fell down on the floor heavily. 

“I’m-I’m Bruce’s son ! And (Y/N)’s ! I live here ! You can’t do anything about it ! You won’t make me run away !” 

Jason was sure by now that the ghosts only ever came to try and make him leave. That they were terrifying him so he wouldn’t want to stay. 

He looked on the internet to see how he could get rid of the ghosts, but it seemed that whatever unfinished business they had, it was too late now...they’ve all been dead for too long. 

Ugh. Why couldn’t the nice one stay behind ? Well...The nice one didn’t really had unfinished business, really. 

One thing the boy was sure of though, is that they were just trying to scare him so he would leave the estate, leave the family they deemed him not worthy of. 

Even at that age, Jason kinda agreed with them. Even then, he had big confidence issues, and always seemed to think he didn’t deserve to have things (years of neglect and people telling him he was nothing were the cause of it all). 

“I’m-I’m not afraid of you ok ? You can’t make me leave ! I finally have a family ! I won’t ever leave ! I don’t care what you think of me ! I know you can’t hurt me ! You can only scare me ! Move small object ! And never very far ! I’m not afraid, I’M NOT AFRAID !” 

As if to confirm his suspicions that the ghosts weren’t “powerful enough” to truly hurt him, his blanket slowly lifted and flew across the room. 

This fact should have made him feel better, made him feel less afraid, because now, he knew they couldn’t actually hurt him. After all, by then he’d been in the house for six months, it was pretty obvious the best they could do was scare him ! 

But the mere fact that some old nasty people’s ghosts were in his bedroom send shivers down his spine. It was an uncontrollable (and understandable) phobia. Reasons had nothing to do with any of it. And when he heard his name, softly spoken into the wind, followed by the words “leave”...Jason jumped out of bed and ran to yours and Bruce’s room, utterly scared. 

So much for trying to show them they couldn’t scare him huh ? But he was only a little boy. He could only take so much...

Even knowing they couldn’t actually hurt him, he was still scared. Phobias didn’t need to be rational, after all. And he was still scared. Even more so since it played on the extra fears that he wasn’t worth anything, and that he didn’t deserve a family as great as you and Bruce...

************

Today, Jason was very proud of himself.

He aced a test in school, and it was one he was very unsure about ! He even told his parents that he probably screwed it up…But he didn’t !

As he raced through the Manor, he couldn’t find anyone though ! 

Ah. Of course. His dad was probably still at work, and you had an office in Gotham City center where you went to write (you also had one in the house, but you hated staying alone in there, and Jason totally understood that ! So when he was at school, and Bruce at work, and Alfred god knew where…you’d go write in that office space. Jason loved going there, it smelled like you. Like books and coffee. It felt safe, and when he was there, surrounded by all your warmth, he felt so loved. Like it never happened before in his life !!).

Alfred was nowhere to be seen either. Oh but of course, we were Wednesday ! He always went grocery shopping on Wednesdays. Though he’d usually be back by the time Jason would be home. But today, something must have taken more time than usual.

Oh well, Jason would just go play video games in the living room and…No.

It was raining outside today, and everything was gray and dark. Which meant the house was full of somber places and blackness. Dark corners and shadows.

And suddenly, Jason’s breath quicken. Because that meant…

That meant he was at their mercy !

Them !

The ghosts !

The ghosts that hated him !

He hadn’t seen them in a while, mainly because he was Robin now, and was out most nights. So this would be a perfect opportunity for them to...

The door to Bruce’s father’s office (Jason didn’t even notice he had stopped right in front of it) slowly opened, creaking in a sinister way as it did. 

No. No no no no NO ! 

They left him alone for so long, he thought maybe they forgot about him. Or accepted him. But the actual reason was that he’d always go to bed when the first light of the day went up, and they had no powers, during the day. 

Except when it was dark and moody like right now. When it almost looked like it was evening while it was only 3 pm. 

The door to Bruce’s father’s office was finally opened, and the voice that scared him the most in the world whispered...”Jaaassooooon”. 

And that was it. Jason, no matter how much he tried to rationalize everything, or to act as if they didn’t scare him, couldn’t control himself. And he had to get out of here !! 

He ran towards the front door, ready to wait in the rain if he had to. He was looking behind him, and saw a small vase fall on the floor...they were close ! And though he knew they couldn’t really hurt him, the mere fact they existed scared him to death ! 

Ghosts, over time, became his one true phobia ! He could deal with a lot of things, especially since he was Robin now...but revenants ? No. No. And no. 

He almost reached the front door when it opened. Was it them ?! 

No. No it wasn’t. It was you. You coming home. And being extra confused when you were greeted by a strong hug by your son. 

He always greeted you warmly, but never quite...Like that. 

Even less so with tears in his eyes, and looking so scared ! 

“Jason ? Jason what is it ? What is it ? Did something happen at school ?” 

In his state of pure fear, he didn’t take the time to think, as he answered :

“No, no it’s...it’s the ghosts !” 

He would never have talked about it normally. But right there, as they took him by surprise after being absent for so long...the words just spilled from his mouth. And he told you everything. How, for the past few years, they haunted him and taunted his sleep. 

The real reason he ran to your bedroom so many times. 

But how it almost all stopped when he became Robin, because he wasn’t at home most of the time during the night, and if he was, you or Alfred or even Bruce during his nights off were always around. 

He told you how whenever someone else was there, even if it was dark, they wouldn’t show up. How his family, you, Bruce, Alfred and Dick when he was there...were fending off the ghosts. 

How when he wasn’t all alone in the dark, they never came. 

And why they hated him particularly so. Because he was a nobody, unworthy of bearing the name “Wayne” ! 

And as he told you the stories of ghosts, of Theodore Hamish Wayne and his nasty friends, of how scared he was sometimes etc etc...

Well, you weren’t sure you quite believed Wayne Manor was haunted. After all, you never witnessed anything. Sure, sometimes, you felt a bit uneasy when you were alone. Shivers ran down your spine for no reasons. But it never went further than that, an old big house giving you kind of the creep sometimes. 

But what you were sure of, is that wether it was real or not, it affected your boy. And you hated that. You hated that so much. 

To you, it seemed like he created those ghosts in his head, to symbolize his deep fear of being abandoned, of being all alone again. But to him ? To him it was clear all this was real. 

Oh but he believed in it so much, that you started to wonder if you had it right. Were the ghosts just the way Jason’s portrayed his true fears (the attack always kind of happened as he was asleep or almost asleep, it could very well be in his imagination, or sleep paralysis or something...except today he was clearly wide awake...), or were they real ? 

You probably would never know, as it seemed your presence warded them off. And you certainly weren’t going to tell him you had your doubts. 

And so you reassured him. You consoled him. You told him you’d always be there, and that those ghosts could never dislodge him from your heart.

“It’s ok little bird, it’s ok. You’re safe here, with me.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” 

“You must think I’m nuts...”

“I most certainly don’t think that. You’re not crazy Jason, ok ? Nobody gets that scared over nothing. Nobody.” 

“So you believe me ?” 

“Yes.”

“Promise ?” 

You didn’t hesitate one second as you answered, because even if the ghosts weren’t actually ghosts, you knew he was telling you the truth. That those things truly happened to him, wether in his head or not didn’t matter.  

“Promise. Because even if I never see those ghosts, to you, they’re very real. And they’re total jerks. And- And you know what ?” 

Jason was sniffling only a little now, slowly getting over his fear. Thanks to you. 

“Wh-What ?”  

You stood up, and brought him with you in the middle of the foyer. You couldn’t quite pick him up anymore, as he was a much too tall 11 years old boy...But you could still definitely hold him close ! 

You stood there, in the middle of the foyer, glaring at the entire house, and finally said : 

“Hey ! Theodore and whatever are your names !? The ghosts haunting Wayne Manor ! Ya better stay away from my son, or I’ll whip your stupid ectoplasmic ass fissa !”

For a few seconds, Jason was afraid you just annoyed them and it would get worst...But then you continued. Telling them exactly what you’d do to them, and nothing sounded very nice. 

In the end, he couldn’t help but laugh at how imaginative you got, thinking of all the ways you could make GHOSTS’ life miserable ! 

And now... 

Now you knew. And you didn’t mock him at all, on the contrary. Jason felt like a weight was leaving his shoulders, because now...now he wasn’t the only one knowing about Wayne Manor’s haunting ! 

And since that day, things got a little easier. 

But at the same time, Jason discovered that he hated to be alone in the house whenever it was too dark outside, which didn’t just include nights, but also gloomy rainy days. 

He always found a way to avoid those situations, in big parts thanks to his Robin work, but also thanks to you, and how understanding you were. 

It really didn’t matter, if the ghosts were real or not. You’d be there for your son no matter what. 

************

Even if he rarely saw them now, the thought that Wayne Manor was haunted never left him. He still hated being alone in it. Especially when it was dark.

But hey, at least nowadays, you knew about it. More importantly, you believed him. He was pretty sure that at first, you didn’t really...But as the years went by, you ended up truly believing him.  

As you said, more than once you got unexplained shivers or bad feelings while walking around the house, and only felt comfortable when you were with your family...you liked to be alone, but when you needed “alone time”, you’d leave the house and go to your office in town, where you wrote all your books. You also had an office back home, but only used it when one of your son, or your husband was there too. 

Yes. By the time he entered his teen years, Jason came to closure with the fact that there was ghosts in Wayne Manor, and that they didn’t like him very much. But you know what ? They’d have to deal with it. 

Because he was NEVER going to leave. 

NEVER. 

This was his home too now. Not just theirs. 

They’d just have to deal with it. 

************

You thought about the ghosts in Wayne Manor, as you roamed its corridors very late at night, tears in your eyes. 

Jason had been gone for almost a year now, but your heart was still bleeding. 

15. He was only 15. 

You thought about how he was so convinced that the house was haunted, and right now...Oh right now you really wished ghosts were truly real. Because then maybe...Maybe he’d come talk to you again ? Maybe he’d come back to you, even if he was just...just...just a ghost...

A little wind went through your air as you walked in the corridor, and you wondered if you left a window opened somewhere ?

************

Present day : 

Jason, as he was fixing himself a snack in the kitchen, in the middle of the night, thought that his old nemesis, the ghosts of Wayne Manor, must have believed they won. 

After all, he haven’t stayed the night at the house in almost a decade now. First because he was dead for a while (bad business). And second because when he came back to life, he was lost and hated his father so much...He didn’t intend to ever come back home. 

And it wasn’t because of the ghosts, it wasn't. 

But tonight, after he finally understood and forgive his dad and  they celebrated his forty-fifth birthday, and as they were all reunited for the first time in ages...He finally decided to stay over. It was so rare, they were all together, and not on patrol (they left the night under the watchful eyes of Batwoman...her alone could handle things for one night, and if she couldn’t, she could always call them). 

But, remembering his old ennemies, he made sure to not be alone in a room ! He somehow managed to convince Dick to share a bedroom, even if there were definitely enough rooms in the Manor for all of them. 

He gave the excuse that he wanted to “remember old times” when Dick finally came back home (shortly before Jay’s death) and Jason would sneak into his room and they’d play video games too late and fall asleep...Already at that time, Jason snuck in because of the ghosts. His brother’s presence kept them away. 

He was too old, at that time, to sneak in yours and Bruce’s bed. He knew. Settling for his brother was fine. Because even if he could somewhat deal with the ghosts now...he still really hated being alone in the Manor. 

The secret was well kept. You never told anyone that Jason strongly believed in ghosts, and that he was sure the Manor was haunted.

And Jason never told anyone else but you. That even now...

Even after his death and resurrection.

Even after he grew up, changed.

Even as an adult…

Jason still hates being alone in Wayne Manor at night.

Actually, he hated it even more after his death. 

He couldn’t quite remember much from between the moment he died and the one Ras Al’Ghul threw him in a Lazarus pit, but sometimes, he had flashbacks of what he thought must be the afterlife. 

With someone kinda looking like Bruce but not being him (he was pretty sure it must be his father), and a woman who reminded him a lot of you but that wasn’t you (probably a certain Martha Wayne…). 

Which to him, confirmed the existence of ghosts. If there was something after death…Plus, in the meantime, he also met  a certain John Constantine and that dude had so many stories ! Though he never quite dared asking him to exorcise Wayne Manor. 

He really didn’t want anyone to know how much of a chicken he really was (damn misplaced pride, you hated it…and it was unfortunately a flaw ALL of your children + your husband had).

Yes. Even now, as a grown man, Jason would avoid as best he could being alone in the Manor when it was dark. 

In broad daylight ? He never minded. Nothing ever happened in the light. 

But at night ? Yeah. No. 

Which is why, right now, as he was fixing himself and Dick a snack, he was going extra fast so he would stay the least amount of time on his own in the kitchen. Why did he even made the offer to be the one getting the snacks ?!

The lights weren't flickering, and he hadn’t seen any ghosts in years (mainly because he never stayed after dark in the house), but still. STILL !! 

And as he heard footsteps behind him, but turned and saw no one...he jumped into the air, shoved all the snacks in his arms and ran as if his life depended on it back to his brother’s room, who in the meantime, had been invaded by his younger siblings too.

The next day, as Bruce would do his daily reviewing of the security cameras he placed all around the house (avoiding his children’s bedroom of course...or so he says), he got a bit confused by footage of Jason, being in the kitchen around 3 am, and suddenly running away, looking scared, as Alfred the cat walked in...

Bruce swore that sometimes, Jason did things that he didn’t understand. More than once, over the years, he saw him run away hurriedly from a room, or talk to no one in particular...Ah, his son was probably a hell of a sleepwalker !

_________________________________

Just a little thing written in a very short amount of time. Because of reasons. Next story will be a long ass one so ya know... :). I hope you liked it ?Ah, and what do you think ? Is Wayne Manor haunted, or is Jason simply sleepwalking and have a very vivid imagination ?

As usual, feedbacks and reblogs = life. 

PS : As you noticed, I did not said my story was bad for once. I spend the last few days doing some self-care and...I’m gonna go easy on myself. Nothing can be perfect. And this exist just because I like to write, I don’t proof-read or just even re-read anything, this is my hobby in its “purest form”, just me enjoying to write about things I love, and sharing it. So. Yes. If that makes any sense...

[borathae]

↳ Index [#02 Act Two: Connected by Sound]

Warnings: none, maybe a hint of homesickness

Wordcount: 5.2k

The rest of your week you spent attending lectures and practicing your first cantata as well as hanging out with Jimin and Jungkook. You had decided to give them a second chance. They were the first ones to be nice to you after all and you are surely not in the mood to find new people to hang out with, it is far too stressful for you. So you guys meet up daily at their favorite spot, a small wooden bench underneath a big oak tree just down by the school’s pond. It is beautiful, you definitely know why it is their favorite place. It is calm, quite and basically no people come here, which makes it the perfect spot to chat, laugh loudly as well as have some random improvised duets. It is fun hanging out with them. They are nice, like really nice, they make you laugh until tears dwell in the corners of your eyes and your stomach aches. They make you feel accepted.

Come Sunday you all had already exchanged phone numbers and Jungkook even made a group chat, making up the name for it from a weird concoction of your names. It was hilarious really.

And Yoongi? Well, Yoongi you decided to push back to the farthest part of your memory and given that you neither saw him again nor Jimin and Jungkook mentioned him again, it was an easy task to do.

You are sitting in your fifth lecture for today, European History of Music, when the blushing man comes crashing back into your life. You are currently munching on your second sandwich - as you had gotten quite hungry because of the lack of an afternoon snack break – and stare mindlessly to the front of the lecture hall, when someone suddenly blocks your view.

The sudden black figure shielding your vision makes you blink. And then you blink again. And again. And again. The piece of half-chewed sandwich gets swallowed down.

That posture, you know it, shoulders drawn up to the ears and head lowered. The figure even wears his hood again. Min Yoongi, it’s him and as fate had decided he is sitting right in front of you.

You are starting to feel incredibly nervous, your heart is racing in your chest and your sandwich lays forgotten in your lunchbox. This could be your chance to introduce yourself to him and ask him about his side of the story.

You stand up, leaning over the table. You stretch your arm out. Just a few more inches and you would touch his shoulder.

“Good morning class and welcome to the Monday course of European History of Music”, a tall man, just a few years older than you, interrupts you.

With a silent groan you fall back into your chair, pouting. Great, there goes your chance to talk to Yoongi.

The tall professor, whose name you later find out is Kim Namjoon, starts his lecture, talking quickly.

You soon find yourself zoning out, Yoongi is a lot more interesting than Mister Kim talking about Ancient Greek instruments. Yoongi seems to be just as nervous and fidgety as in the hallway, maybe a little less scared, but he was definitely still on edge. He has made himself small, keeping his arms pressed to his sides and pressing his legs close the entire time. That is the man, who is supposed to be such a dangerous creep? Who stalks girls and takes perverted pictures of them? As much as you try to, you just can’t wrap your head around this idea.

The professor tells a joke, something about musical scales, you didn’t really hear it. But apparently Yoongi did, as his shoulders suddenly start to shake as if he was laughing. Your heart does a jump in your chest, gosh he is adorable. This drop of his protective stance however only lasts a moment. He tenses up again, looking around to see if someone had watched him, before he clutches his hands over his mouth to keep himself from laughing. Your heart melts in your chest and you have to fight the urge to “aww” out loud. This was endearing to witness.

This is it, you have decided not to judge him based on other peoples' stories. He can’t be a bad guy, maybe a little awkward, but who isn’t?

Once the lecture has ended, you finally seize the moment to talk to him. You jump to your feet and tap on his shoulder. He tenses up, his breathing quickens. You tap again.

“Hello, you are Min Yoongi right?” you say with a smile on your face.

He tenses up even more at the sound of his name before he finally turns around. His head he still keeps lowered however.

“Hey, my name is ___ and I know it’s weird but would you like to go for a cup of coffee with me? Or tea? Whatever suits your taste.”

You send him a smile, despite knowing he won’t see it.

“Please leave me alone”, he mumbles.

Your smile drops, confusion replaces it.

“I’m sorry?” you ask to make sure you had heard him right.

“Don’t, don’t t-talk t-to me”, he stutters, clutching his books so tightly his knuckles turn white.

It feels like someone has punched you in the guts. You feel so bad, he is clearly so uncomfortable and you approach him like some crazy woman. Gosh, what were you even thinking?

“Sure, of course. I’m sorry I asked. Have a nice day Yoongi”, you say, putting your things into your bag messily, before rushing to the exit.

This is so embarrassing, let’s hope no one saw you right now.

Yoongi however is frozen to the spot, his head is raised high and his widely-opened eyes follow you. This is the first time someone had wished him a nice day.

You run straight home this day, telling Jimin and Jungkook that you wouldn’t come to the bench today because of womanly matters. They answer you immediately, well Jimin does as Jungkook has his notifications on mute again, telling you that it was okay and that they both wish you a speedy recovery. With getting the answer you wanted, you put your phone back into your coat pocket and run down the gravel path to the exit of the school perimeter.

What in god’s name made you think that talking to Min Yoongi was going to be a good idea? He clearly doesn’t want people to talk to him, judging by his posture and the way he talked to you. Now he must think you are a total weirdo, coming up to him and asking him for a coffee date.

Your jaw clenches, gosh you are such an idiot, you should have listened to Jimin and Jungkook. In mere hours everyone will know about your failed attempt at talking to him, word spreads fast in this school and there is a sure way that someone must have watched you attempting to speak to the black haired man. You can already imagine all the judging eyes on you tomorrow morning.

You groan whilst getting on the bus, which you always take to get home.

Perhaps you will call in sick tomorrow morning, cough into the speaker and murmur how sick you have gotten with a weak voice. Perhaps add Wednesday too, maybe Thursday as well. No actually, just pretend to be sick for the entire week so no one has a chance to judge you in the hallways.

"Good god", you murmur.

What has this school done to you? You have never skipped class before and now you plan on skipping an entire week worth of lectures just because you are scared of what people might think of you. 

"Goddamn it."

And you always thought people interested in music were the most judgemental free people of all. Oh, how terribly wrong you were.

When you wake up the next morning, still feeling as embarrassed as yesterday, you decide to actually go through with the plan. You call the school, telling the principal with a raspy voice that you had gotten a very bad case of the flu overnight and that you won’t be able to attend this week’s lectures. The principal only tells you to catch up on your missed lectures' topics once you were fit enough and that you should try to practice as best as possible before he hangs up.

You lower your phone, staring at the grey ceiling of your one room apartment. The sun hasn’t started to shine into your room yet, still in the middle of rising above the tall trees outside. You could keep on sleeping and wake up at a normal time, one where the sun has already greeted the new day and the city woke up, but as much as you try to, you can’t seem to get tired again.

So with your body aching to get moving, you peel yourself out of bed and trot to your closet to get the first warm sweater you can find. You can use the quiet time in the early hours of the morning to explore your neighborhood. You didn’t really have time until now to do so, too busy with moving and going to school. You are definitely excited to finally get a chance to make up for it.

You pull the sweater over your head and slip into some warm socks as well and done is your early morning walk outfit. You leave your phone at home for today, taking nothing more than your house keys and a banana to snack on whilst walking.

Putting on a warm sweater was a good idea, the morning air feels cool on your skin, the grey fog making everything feel just a lot colder than it actually is. You breathe in deeply, clearing your lungs with the fresh air of a new day. There are no people on the streets, most of them are still asleep. Silence is your constant companion as you walk down the narrow walkway next to the stream. The orange light of the rising sun paints its own beautiful picture on the stream's surface, making the small waves dance in glistening shapes of autumn colors. It almost looks like the water is on fire, like little flames greet the new day with vigor.

You sit down on a big rock close to the water, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. You could sit here for hours, watch the color of the sunlight change and wish the water a nice journey as it makes its way through the city. Sitting here makes you forget about the fact that you were actually in a big city, far, far away from your home, your green garden and the seemingly endless spans of forest and the big sea. Sitting here feels like a little piece of home, the water reminds you of the many days you spent letting your feet tangle from a dock whilst underneath the ocean sang its endless melody.

You really miss your home, you miss the simplicity of life in the countryside, you miss the honest smiles of the people as they greeted you by calling your name and waving vigorously, you miss the slow passage of time not like in the city where life seems to be fast paced even in moments of calm.

Was coming here really a good idea? Are you ever going to feel as at home here in this big city where people seem to be everywhere but you were still lonely? Where everyone looked at you like you were a stranger and no one seemed to care about your life?

You sigh.

Was coming here really the step you needed to take in order to fulfill your dreams? You had imagined it to be so different, to be exciting and to be full of people, who were all shining in different colors. You expected to laugh and sing and dance with people, sharing the one thing which connected all of you. Music. You expected to experience the most beautiful form of art together with likeminded people, but all you got was the message to be careful of who you hang out with in order not to blemish your status.

You scoff.

If someone dares to mention the word “status” to you ever again you will literally lose it. How come that people here care so much about what others think of them? How come they refuse to connect through music, refuse to improve each other, to challenge each other to perform even better, greater things and instead decide to be against each other in a constant battle of talent? Everyone is talented here, there is no use in competing against each other every given chance.

A cold wind rustles through the yellow leaves of a weeping willow. It almost sounds like it is singing its own song in long notes and sighs, telling you its story if you only listen closely enough. You close your eyes, listening to the willow's quiet song. It is telling you of far away places, where life seems to be easier and the air seems to be warmer, where the water is clearer and the grass is greener.

The wind gets stronger, the weeping willow's song louder. Mountains, higher than the clouds can reach appear in front of you, the willow paints them for you in a soft whisper.

You feel happy, like singing and dancing.

You peel your eyes open, blinking twice to get used to the yellow sunlight. You won’t give up now, not when you came this far, not when you moved away from home with a promise to make your parents proud, not when you are finally at the school of your dreams. Fitting in is hard, painful even, but you are strong, the weeping willow had told you so as it dried your tears with its melody. You are going to make it here, find the place you belong to and find the people you are destined to meet, even if the journey is going to be long and rocky.

You get up from the tree stump, stretching your arms above your head to wake your tired joints up and walk back up to the walkway afterwards. The streets have gotten busy whilst you were sitting by the stream, people dressed in formal dresses and suits busy around the streets, getting to their work or university. The city has woken up, sounds of traffic blend over the purring of the stream, voices ring in the air and the fog has disappeared now that people made staying any longer uninteresting for him.

You are getting hungry, the banana wasn’t enough for you to feel full, your stomach is rumbling. You could walk down to the bakery and get some sweet pastries and get some coffee as well when you are at it. You still have some money in your sweatpants, enough to buy you some food.

People pass you by, not paying you any attention, voices fade in and out of your ears, smells of different perfumes come and go as you walk down the streets to the bakery. Just like always you are alone in a place full of people, but with the weeping willow's song still in your heart the loneliness gets a lot easier to bear.

There are people in the bakery when you enter, sitting at the tables whilst drinking their morning coffees and staring into their phones. It is loud, the people are chatting with each other loudly. It smells like coffee and cinnamon inside, your mouth watering at the smell. There are two people at the counter in front of you, a black haired man and a blonde woman, both of them seem to be young. The woman orders first, a black coffee with a shot of baileys if you had heard correctly. You stifle a laugh, someone is eager to get drunk first thing in the morning. The barista, a brown haired man in his late twenties turns around, getting her order ready. She plays with her acrylic nails whilst waiting, a golden diamond ring glistening on her left hand. She must be married. Her makeup looks beautiful, she must have put a lot of effort into it. She is wearing a beige skirt with a fitting blazer, she must be a business woman, probably successful and with lots of money in her bank account.

The barista returns with the woman’s order, handing it to her. She pays him, even gives him a gracious tip. As you had thought, she has lots of money in her bank account. The barista smiles, bowing his head at her. And just like that she disappears, walking out of the coffee shop with a cup in her hand and success in her eyes.

The black haired man orders next, shuffling to the front. He stays silent for a moment, staring at the display. His hands hold onto the marble surface of the counter. The barista sends the black haired man a friendly smile, asking him what he wanted to order.

The black haired man hums in concentration, tightening his grip. You can hear it clearly as you are closer to him than before now that the queue got less with the woman leaving. Even from here you can smell his perfume, woody with the faintest hint of orange blossoms and the ocean breeze. You like it, your chest feels warm when smelling it. Tight black jeans adorn his skinny legs and an oversized grey jacket hides his judgingly skinny torso. He must be a student, getting his morning coffee before he needs to get to his lectures.

The black haired man finally speaks, ordering a double-sized black coffee with two extra shots of espresso. Your eyes become big, not only because this man clearly wants his heart never to calm down again, but also because his voice makes your heart flutter in a familiar way. A deep baritone, smooth like the black coffee he had ordered, soothes your ears. You have to swallow, your mouth feels dry. 

This voice sounds so familiar.

The barista nods, turning around to get the man’s order ready. You could watch him work, watch how the coffee pours into the paper cup, but your eyes stay glued to the black haired man. He is fumbling with his wallet, counting the coins before he lets out a sigh of relief when he manages to scrape together the right amount.

The barista returns with the man’s order, handing him the cup and accepting the man’s money with his other hand at the same time.

“Thank you”, the black haired man mumbles before he turns around, getting face to face with you.

The second your eyes fall on his face, your assumption ever since you had heard his voice turns out to be right. The black haired man is none other than Min Yoongi, the man you had embarrassed yourself in front of and the reason for you skipping school. Your breath catches in your throat, the air is practically knocked out of your lungs. Yoongi looks just as taken aback as you do, staring at you with parted lips.

Time seems to stand still as you look at each other, your ears drown out the voices of the other people, your heart feels like it had stopped beating. Is it fate you had met here in this corner bakery right at the same time in a city where times seems to race even in moments of calm? Perhaps it is, perhaps fate really means to bring you two together, two lost souls in a city too big for them.

You feel yourself blush, Yoongi does so as well. His coffee burns his fingertips, but he doesn’t dare to change hands for he is too mesmerized to move.

“You?” he breathes. He seems to not be able to break eye contact, his dark-brown eyes race between yours.

“You?” you breathe, equally as entranced.

Yoongi is the first one to blink, wetting his lips with his tongue before he looks away. The voices of the other people come back, nearly deafening you with their intensity now that the quiet moment shared between only you and Yoongi was gone. You feel able to breathe again, your muscles start working again.

“What brings you here?” your voice sounds hoarse, in desperate need of you coughing.

Yoongi looks back at you for the briefest of moments. He raises his cup, looking at it.

“Oh yeah, right”, you chuckle awkwardly, “I could have thought of that couldn’t I?”

Yoongi wets his lips again, looking back at you before looking at the exit. You see him swallow. He looks back at you, connecting eyes. Is he finally going to talk to you, now that you aren’t locked in the suffocating halls of the school? It seems like it, his lips part, he takes a breath. He sighs and just like that his head lowers to the ground. The last thing you get is a whiff of his perfume as he brushes past you to the exit.

You look after him, not knowing what to do. He is gone as fast as he had appeared in your life, leaving nothing more than a weird feeling in your chest and the unbearable thought that yet again a chance at happiness had slipped right out of your fingers. You are alone again in a city full of people, standing here in this little bakery with your heart feeling emptier than it had when you had woken up this morning. 

You don’t order anything this day, walking out of the bakery with empty hands and your eyes searching for the black haired man. He is nowhere to be found, of course he isn’t, he must have disappeared in the crowd, hiding in the safe stream of anonymity.

You tried anything, running up and down the streets, over the bridge to the bus stop, waiting at the bus stop for hours. But the black haired man was gone, as if he had never existed in this part of the city, as if you had imagined it all in your head.

The next days feel like torture to you, your mind keeps racing with endless thoughts. You write a lot these days, your thoughts and feelings, making them into songs no one will ever hear except you and the sun when it comes to visit you through your windows. Your little apartment soon becomes suffocating for you, you need to get out there unless you want to lose your mind.

So come Saturday night, you decide to go for a little adventure in your school. No one is inside the school on Saturday evenings, most of the students either practice at home or are out with friends. So you have the practice room for you alone.

You practice for hours on end, repeating the melody over and over again until you are sure you have memorized it. You don’t give yourself any breaks, wanting to keep your mind preoccupied with having to concentrate on singing. You only stop when your throat starts to hurt from the excessive training and once even the easiest notes come out strained, it is officially time for you to rest for the day. You write down your name on the list after storing the music stand in the cupboard and turn off the lights.

This may have not been able to clear your mind completely, but at least you were able to forget about your confusing feelings for a moment.

You step outside, gasping in surprise. It is dark in the hallways, the cleaning staff must have turned off the lights already. How long exactly have you been here? The street lamps shine into the building through the tall windows, illuminating the halls just enough so you wouldn’t drip over something. It is quiet, your breathing the only thing you can hear in this dark night. Shadows of the tall trees outside stretch out on the floors, laughing at you in menacing voices. Goosebumps run down your spine as if a cold finger of a threat has traced it. You know you are probably alone and have nothing to worry about, but you quicken your steps nonetheless, clutching your sheet music with sweaty fingers.

“Gosh I regret everything”, you start talking to yourself to ease your nerves, “this is okay, it’s just your school, you are safe here, no one’s going to kill you”, you mumble.

A loud crack cuts through the silence, making you squeal. Your steps quicken, the shadows seem to follow you, breathing down your neck with their cold breath.

“Nope, nope, go away”, you are practically running at this point.

You must look hilarious right now, running around like a scared little rabbit and frantically talking to yourself. The hallways become darker, the windows less. The shadows disappeared, darkness swallows them whole. 

A note. D sharp if your ears were correct.

Your feet seem to be glued to the spot, you listen, your muscles tense.

“Don’t be ridiculous there is no one her-“, you stop talking to yourself when soft piano music suddenly blends out the deafening silence.

Debussy. Rêverie. You could identify this melody from miles away. It is one of your favorite pieces. Sudden calmness overtakes you, the once scary hallways seem to glow in the slow melody. You exhale shakily, watching the dust dance to the sound of the piano, swirling around in the orange light of the street lamps. The once scary shadows of the trees start swinging to the music, laughing in happiness.

The music draws you in, wakes your curiosity. You need to see the owner of those skillful hands. With easy steps, you walk to the practice room. It doesn’t feel like you were walking, it feels as if you are flying, being carried by the notes of Debussy.

The door is opened widely when you reach it. Up close the piano sounds even more beautiful, almost as if it was singing the notes. There is not one moment when it feels like the player struggles with keeping up the rhythm. The notes dance with one another in perfect harmony, allowing each other to unfold on their own whilst still being one.

You step inside the room with held breath. The song changes, Deux Arabesque, another one of Debussy’s pieces, just as beautiful as the first one. You can’t see the person at first, the piano covers them up. You step further into the room and tiptoe to your left.

The first thing that comes into view is a mop of black hair, then a shoulder and then. Your breath catches in your throat. Yoongi. He has his eyes closed, that is why he hasn’t yet noticed you yet. He has his hood off for once, giving you the perfect view of his beautiful dark hair and his normally pink cheek appear ivory beneath the white light of the full moon. He looks peaceful, the music flowing through his veins almost makes him glow like an angel.

The melody gets faster and louder, Yoongi’s lips part, his whole body starts swaying to the music. He looks totally changed, calm and without any sort of density in his body. It seem as if he is free, as if this is his true self he is too scared to show the world. It takes your breath away, his play leaves you with tears in your eyes and your heart consumed by emotion.

The melody gets slower again, it carries you with it like a calm mountain stream would carry a fallen leaf to its new destination, far away from its home past beautiful landscapes and foreign sights. Until it finally stops, having reached its destination at a place safe from world’s harm, where birds sing sweeter and the sun feels warmer.

Even after it had ended you feel your body swaying to the memory of the music and your heart racing because of the man in front of you.

Yoongi keeps his eyes closed, resting his hands on the piano keys. You stay silent, not daring to breathe or clap for the moment is too magical to ruin. He is still glowing, the moonlight seems to kiss his skin, thanking him for serenading it, for making its job of illuminating the night sky a little easier.

Yoongi sighs, opening his eyes to turn the page on his sheet music. Only that they don’t fall onto his sheet music, but snap over the ominous shadow he had noticed in the corner of his eyes.

Your stomach clenches in panic when his eyes lock with yours. He looks just as taken aback as you do, his eyes big and his body tensed in shock.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, not once stuttering. He must still be in his zone, totally forgetting about how scared he actually is to talk to people.

“I, I just finished my practice and, and I was on my, my way home when I heard someone play so I wanted to check it out”, it is your turn to stutter.

You can feel that you are starting to blush, mostly from embarrassment of getting caught. Yoongi must think you are some sort of stalker, watching him play like a creep.

“You are not supposed to b-be here”, his nervousness slowly comes back to him. You watch him take a deep breath through his mouth afterwards.

“I know, I’m sorry for watching you like a creep”, you say, jumping from one foot to the other.

Yoongi visibly tenses up at the word “creep”. His previous confidence is washed away from his face, his eyes flicker to the ground, avoiding your stare.

“J-just leave me, me alone p-please”, he has his head lowered again, staring at his folded hands.

This is your chance to show Yoongi that you don’t mean to hurt him, that he can trust you. Your feet start walking to him, quiet and slow as not to scare him.

“You know I don’t want to do you any harm. I don’t know what the other peoples' problem is, but that’s not me. You can trust me”, you say, taking one step closer to him.

Yoongi suddenly jumps up, grabbing his sheet music in the process. You stop mid-step, watching him with big eyes. Even in the moonlight you can still make out the faint blush which appears on his cheeks.

“I said leave m-me alone”, he says, louder than before.

Your mouth falls shut, the words you had wanted to say are gone from your mind. You stay frozen to the spot not being able to move, even when Yoongi rushes past you and out of the room. You can hear his footsteps become fainter and fainter until they die out completely. 

You groan loudly, face palming yourself. You have done it again, great job scaring him away with your pressing words. You take one last look at the piano, the magic from before is gone, now all there is left is a dull-looking grand piano in the dim moonlight.