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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

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Night Out

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family Characters: Gordon, Scott

#fluffember day 18 - ‘touch’ - and something a little different, mostly because @janetm74 decided to call me out about whacking ‘unsuspecting characters’ with a chair of ‘pain and suffering’ and @gumnut-logic mentioned literally hitting them with a chair... I promise this is mostly fluff still! That Teen rating (Teen for a fluff fic? Tsari what are you doing?) is for language and alcohol, because we have two former military boys in a London pub.

Gordon learnt two things that night: Scott was an affectionate drunk, and sometimes people throw bar stools for no good reason.

Gordon couldn’t recall the last time he’d gone out with Scott – just Scott – for a reason that wasn’t mission related. He’d hit the town with Alan (not that alcohol was allowed on those occasions, what with the kid being underage and all that) a few times, and Virgil on more than a few post-mission de-stressors, but Scott was always too busy for frivolous things like having fun.

No more. It had taken some convincing, a lot of wheedling, and the strong-arm combination of Grandma and Virgil, but a blissful forty-eight hours’ downtime was being spent in England, just because they could. The gracious offer of being chauffeured around by Parker – made by her Ladyship, to the man’s apparent disgruntlement – just made the choice all the easier. And what better way to unwind than a nice, rowdy night in the pub?

Karaoke, free-flowing alcohol, and Scott’s communicator firmly confiscated in the Creighton-Ward manor to ensure he didn’t slip back into work habits meant that he was having the time of his life, and Scott seemed to be enjoying himself, too. At least, if the gaggle of girls he’d acquired, flirting with him and being flirted with in kind, was anything to go by, his big brother was definitely enjoying himself for once.

Unwilling to spend the entire night as the wingman, and definitely not interested in finding out if Scott managed to go further than just exchanging some smooth words, Gordon had found himself over by the pool table. He’d spent enough time in pubs – even if he’d been underage for most of it and Scott (probably) didn’t know that – to be able to find entertainment with a group of strangers, so separating from his brother wasn’t much of an issue.

He was good at pool, too. Good enough to quickly work his way through the ranks until he was the champion everyone else paid to play, and all in all he was having a really good time of it. The drinks were good, the company was fantastic, and best of all, he was having a blast. Maybe later he’d drag Scott away from the girls for a game – show the Londoners exactly how good the Tracys were (and hope Scott was inebriated enough not to beat him, because Scott played a mean game sober).

At least, that was the plan. The world liked to mess with plans.

It started with raised voices. Nothing unusual in a pub, especially now it was entering late evening and the alcohol had been flowing for a while. Gordon thought nothing of it, and continued to roast his latest challenger at pool, beaming when the black ball found the pocket. Well-meant congratulations passed between the two of them – they had manners, after all – and Gordon cast around for his next opponent.

Then the tingle ran up his spine, and immediately on its heels came a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, bro,” the guy – Dennis, Gordon had trounced him two games earlier to much laughter and another pint – started. “Didn’t you come in with that guy?”

There was only one that guy he’d come in with, and combined with his squid sense kicking in, Gordon had a sinking feeling as he turned to look at where he’d left Scott.

Just in time to see a bar stool smash into his head.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just Gordon’s default reaction to seeing someone smash a bar stool over his brother’s head, but his vision went red. The pool cue dropped, but he paid no attention to where it landed, already surging forwards towards where his brother had crumpled to the floor.

Someone was laughing, someone else was screaming, but Gordon had eyes for only two things: his unmoving brother, and the guy still holding the bar stool aloft.

“Hey!” he roared, elbowing gawkers out of the way and slamming into the guy hard enough to make him loose his grip on the stool. It fell to the floor with a crash, thankfully missing Scott, followed by the man himself. Gordon kept his feet, feeling the buzz of alcohol mixing with adrenaline, and placed himself firmly between the aggressor and his brother.

Everyone else backed off; in his periphery Gordon could tell that the three of them – him, Scott and the stool-wielding asshole – were loosely ringed in by the other patrons of the pub, all looking on with varying emotions ranging from astonishment, fear, and bloodlust.

“You with ‘im?” Stool-Bastard spat, pulling himself to his feet with a glower that was supposed to be intimidating. Gordon hadn’t served in WASP to be cowed by a drunkard in a London pub.

“You attack him for a reason?” he shot back, hearing shuffling noises from directly behind him. Good, that sounded like Scott was conscious. The pleasant fuzz of alcohol was gone, leaving him as sharply aware as it was possible to be after however many drinks he’d had, and he tallied everything up as the guy snarled, swaying on the spot but not attacking. Not yet.

Tabs were all paid up; no need to worry about any unpaid drinks. No sign of the bouncers, but that could change any moment and a barfight was not high on Gordon’s list of reasons to get arrested (yes, he had one. No, his brothers didn’t know about it). The nearest exit was… there, by the group of girls Scott had been with.

If Scott was conscious, as he suspected, it wouldn’t take much to get out of there. He just needed to not be attacked the moment he turned his back.

“’E was ‘itting on my girl,” the man snarled. Gordon had many things to say to that, including the fact that Scott – even drunk – had morals and that if the guy didn’t trust his girlfriend around other guys then maybe he should be looking for problems a little closer to home. He said none of them.

He didn’t have to. The girls surged forward, arguing the point for him – good for them, and did he need to take note of their names to hand over to Lady P? – and he took the chance to crouch down and assess Scott’s condition.

His brother had managed to drag himself up onto his elbows, one hand holding his head, and there was a scowl on his face. Blue eyes were dilated and a little unfocused, although how much of that was the alcohol as opposed to the knock, Gordon wasn’t entirely certain.

“You good to stand up?” he asked, gently touching where Scott was holding his head. The dazed blue eyes blinked at him for a second, and his brother grimaced but tried to move. Gordon caught him when he swayed, wedging himself under one arm and dragging Scott’s arm around his neck for support, wrapping a firm arm of his own around his brother’s waist.

Dennis from pool came over, clearly offering help, but Gordon waved him off with a smile that was probably more strained than he’d planned.

“I got him,” he said. “If you want to help, make sure that bastard doesn’t get another hit in.” He didn’t want trouble – this was supposed to be a relaxing downtime, dammit all – he just wanted to get Scott somewhere safe so he could check him over properly. Luckily, the man got the message and moved to stand so that he was blocking Stool-Bastard’s view of them, leaving Gordon to haul his brother out the door.

No-one else stopped him, and with a few stumbles – Scott was heavy, okay? – he got them over to a nearby bench, which Scott sank onto bonelessly. Gordon shot a quick message to Parker to come get them – fun night out was over – before turning his attention to Scott.

“You with me?” he asked, keeping an arm around his shoulders and peering at the shock of brown hair resting on his shoulder. “Scott?”

“M’fcker,” his brother slurred, sounding vaguely annoyed. He didn’t move, though, seemingly content to remain slumped against Gordon’s side and trust him to hold him up. It was just un-Scott-like enough for him to be a little worried, but he had also been drinking and he wasn’t entirely sure how much Scott had had. Nor had he actually ever seen Scott drunk before – at least, not without the buffer of Virgil and/or John to handle him. He vaguely recalled something about him being an affectionate drunk, though, so with any luck that was all that was.

Still, he ran his free hand through gelled hair, gently probing for signs of injury. Scott hissed when he reached the back of his head, where he’d seen the blow land, and Gordon explored the area lightly with his fingers. It didn’t seem like it was a bad knock – certainly not as bad as it could have been, and he was starting to realise it had actually only been a glancing blow rather than the square hit he’d initially thought – but it could definitely do with some ice and painkillers, and he was pretty certain there was a minor concussion in there, too.

No amount of alcohol explained Scott’s suddenly quiet and slightly lethargic attitude, when Gordon knew he’d been laughing and flirting right before the attack. Virgil was going to be so pleased.

“Hey,” he tried again, poking his cheek when he didn’t get an instant response. “Talk to me, Scott. What happened back there?”

Scott groaned at him and buried his face further into his neck in an additional show of drunk and concussed. “D’nno,” he muttered. Gordon felt more than heard the words. “M’fcker came’p ‘hind me ‘nd yelled sommat ‘bouta girl. D’nno what. Then th’bast’d hit me.”

A very small part of Gordon was amused at the filterless language. He knew Scott knew how to cuss – he’d Served, the same as he had – but Big Brother also had a very strong grip on his language around family. To hear what was no doubt a throwback to the Air Force days was quietly satisfying. However, most of Gordon was a combination of furious and worried, in approximately equal measures. Maybe a little more worried than furious, but there was a large part of him that really wanted to show the guy why you never messed with a Tracy.

Fortunately for his PR, Scott needed him here, not embroiled in a fight or spending the night in a lockup, so he swallowed down the rage and pulled his brother a little bit closer.

“Anything hurt except your head?” he asked, brushing his fingers through his hair again. Scott shook his head then groaned.

“’m fine,” he claimed, still not lifting his head from where it was buried in Gordon’s neck. “St’p fussin’.”

“I’ll stop fussing once we’re back at the manor and your head’s been looked at properly,” Gordon countered, to another groan. “How much did you drink?”

“Was’nly weak sh’t,” Scott told him. “Few p’ntsa cid’r.” Enough to get buzzed but not enough to get blindly drunk, then.

A breeze blew past them, reminding Gordon that London was in England and therefore cold. Scott shivered just a bit – not enough to be noticed if he wasn’t plastered against Gordon’s side – and he tightened his grip again. Neither of them were dressed for the night air, not with the original plan being for them to remain inside the pub until Parker arrived, and the thin jacket Gordon did have on wouldn’t fit his brother, even if he could peel him off long enough to shuck it.

“Not the best end to an evening,” he mused instead, rubbing at the denim jacket Scott had on in a vain attempt to give him a little more warmth.

“C’n say thattag’n,” Scott agreed, burrowing into his side even more. Gordon assumed he was trying to leech body heat. “S’posed t’be fun.”

“Well we’ve got all of tomorrow to lounge around the manor,” Gordon reminded him, spying a flash of pink approaching at speed. “You know that’ll be fun.”

“W’th this h’ngov’r?” Scott complained. Gordon winced – he had a point.

“It’ll be fine,” he promised, letting go of his brother with one hand to flag Parker down. “Water and painkillers and you’ll be good as new.” Depending on the severity of the concussion, that might be stretching it a bit. Scott was definitely going to be off duty for more than another day, though.

FAB1 pulled to a stop next to them and Parker jumped out, eyes sharp and alert as he took in their condition.

“Trouble, sirs?”

“Someone took a swing at Scott with a bar stool,” Gordon admitted, prodding his brother. Parker’s eyes narrowed and he suspected Stool-Bastard might find his own brand of trouble later, once Parker was convinced they were safe. The man seemed to have a soft spot for Scott – hell knew he didn’t have one for Gordon, despite his best efforts to the contrary. “C’mon, Scott. Let’s get you in the car.” His brother groaned but at least made a token effort to stand up, freeing Gordon long enough for him to get to his own feet and haul Scott up. Parker slid around to Scott’s other side without waiting to be asked, and between them they helped him stagger into the back seat, where he promptly slumped again. Gordon slid in beside him and was immediately reclaimed as a pillow, which he resisted long enough to make sure they were both strapped in before allowing Scott to bury his head in his neck again.

“’Ow ‘is ‘e?” Parker asked as he slipped back into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the curb. Gordon caught sight of him looking at them in the rear view mirror and offered a tight grin.

“Minor concussion,” he answered, running his hand through Scott’s hair again, to a quiet noise that could have been either complaint or contentment. “He also drunk enough to get buzzed, so I’m not entirely sure how much of this-” he shrugged at the big brother draped against him “-is that.”

“Hmm.” Parker sounded unconvinced, but did at least return his attention to the road.

Gordon glanced down at his brother and poked him lightly.

“You’d better not be falling asleep on me, Scott,” he warned.

“’M n’t,” came the muffled response. “W’k m’up wh’n we g’t therr.”

“Scott, no,” Gordon scolded, shrugging his shoulder and forcibly peeling his brother off of him. “You’re concussed. Don’t sleep.”

The baleful glare he got was pretty pathetic, on the Scott scale, but his brother huffed in defeat.

“F’n,” he grumbled. Gordon caught his head when he attempted to bury it in his neck – again – and guided it to rest normally on his shoulder.

“We’ll have a proper look at the manor,” he promised. “Then you can rest.”

Scott huffed, but didn’t close his eyes again. He did, however, wrap an arm around Gordon in a tight grip, which he returned in kind.

“Are you always this cuddly when you’re drunk?” he asked. The grumble he got wasn’t a coherent answer, but the way Scott purposefully looked away was. Gordon laughed. “That explains why you don’t go out drinking with us much. Do any of the others know this?”

“Shuddup,” Scott grumped. It was a shame he was also concussed, otherwise the blackmail would have been glorious.

Aw, who was he kidding. As soon as Scott came out the other side clear, it was totally acceptable blackmail. For now, though, he was content to hold onto his brother while Parker drove them back to the manor, more than a little relieved it hadn’t been worse.

So much for a relaxing night out with his brother.

#fluffember #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #gordon tracy #scott tracy #aloysius parker #thunderfluff

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yewfallen · 3 years

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a collection of drabbles under the cut about febail and his different potential fathers from various timelines. goes a lil into tiny hcs for each in varying ways. i only went for predestined fathers as well as some popular choices because i don't have the steam to go for every single possibility LMAO as intriguing as some of the unexplored ones can be.

[ALEC]

Febail remembers very little about his father and mother, but when he tries his hardest to recall his youngest days from before Patty had been born, he notices how the scenery always seems to change each time. At times, the world is blanketed in white and lovers huddle close for warmth. A man he presumes to be his father sneaks a little dollop of snow onto his little cheek, telling him to see the world and brave it, li'l guy. His father has a way of making the most mundane things sound so fantastical, like this world was a wonderful thing to wake up to each day.

And one day, his father would never wake up to meet tomorrow ever again.

But before that, the change from castle to castle, battlefield to battlefield, and country to country seems to suit him and his lady love just fine. Two souls, roaming the world with their son in tow, daring to find treasures and loving people alike.

Their son will grow to be the type to fall too easily in love just like his father before him. Their son will grow to be fearless too, just as if the ghost of his father had taught him that no enemy could find a weakness in him.

Their son will grow to barely know either of them once the flames of Belhalla claim them both, and it will be up to a family friend to drop him and his newborn sister off at an orphanage in Conote, none the wiser.

___

[FINN]

Febail had known the snows of Silesse and the fires of Belhalla long before he had known the man that was his father.

After the fallout of Sigurd's army, Brigid had taken her son east towards the Munster Region, traveling only at night. In hindsight, it was to escape any watchful eyes, but as young as he was, he was none the wiser. When he had asked his mother where they were going, she would tell him it was to see his old man, and that was all he needed to know to be excited.

Leonster was a pretty place where flowers bloomed for as far as the eye could see and the weather was always temperate. There was never a day where there was not enough food to eat, and neither was there a day where his mother went by unloved. Soon enough, that love manifested into another child.

However, beauty is fleeting, and the day after Febail's younger sister was born, the dream-like state of that year in Leonster fades away in a blink of an eye. They hadn't even said goodbye to his father, coming into his life and receding just as quickly as the ocean's waves.

By the time Febail meets his father again, he can't remember him at all and his father can't recognize him in turn. They walk past one another like strangers, a son grown up to live on his own and a father grown to realize the things he loves will all leave him before he is ready to let go.

___

[MIDIR]

When Febail tries to remember his parents, it's always his mother that comes to mind first. She was striking and bold from what he can recall. From where he sat as a little baby, it was always her that he was pointed to look at, like she was someone whose presence was something to bask in every time she walked into the room.

When Patty prompts him to say what he remembers of their mother, the first thing Febail can think to say was that she is beautiful. Her memories of her visage are nothing more than a haze, least of all the kind of thing a boy can rely on to say one way or another on the topic, and yet he knows it.

She's beautiful, a voice had murmured from behind him often. He had heard it so often, it had become something like a mantra for the man who had said it to him. His father had held him, taking the role of his constant caregiver but he had lined himself in shadow always. Every day was a day lived in disbelief, one that framed his mother as something holy, something somehow untouchable, and the only thing worth looking at until Febail realized he hardly knew a thing about his father at all.

The only thing he did know in the end was that his father revered his mother in some sort of way, and it had stuck with him long after any memories of what the man looked or sounded like had long since turned murky.

___

[DEW]

A youthful man takes his infant son to the market one day. The shopkeepers joke around, not believing the little scrap of a thief they had known would really grow up to get a child of his own even as the thief himself claims the bundle as his, and he brags to the world of his courageous and badass wife, to which the pawnbroker and blacksmith both roll their eyes and simply give a good-natured laugh.

The thief takes his son to the market many more times after that, teaching him the ins-and-outs of every shop in every town and later how to haggle and find a good deal just about anywhere he goes. The vendors rib him, asking if it isn't a bit too early to teach a young thing like that all this stuff, to which the thief replies, “It's the early bird that gets the worm!”

When Febail grows up, that little saying sticks in him, and he makes it a habit to go to the markets early, browsing the merchandise and expertly talking down even the coldest of merchants to let him get his wares for cheap. Every gold coin counts when you've got a whole house of mouths to feed, and the less he can spend on himself, the more he can send back to the little ones in Conote waiting for him, he thinks.

The blacksmith looks at Febail, at first unwilling, but when he sees the boy's green eyes that speak of an upbeat day in a bleak, cold world as theirs, the blacksmith remembers that thief from two decades ago and finds it in him to melt his heart, even if it is at the cost of his own pockets.

He wonders where that thief went, and where his little lad went with him.

___

[JAMKE]

Today, Verdane has a new prince.

Lady Edain of Yngvi sits next to her sister who's in bed with her newborn son, exhausted for the effort of pushing him out it looks. Jamke knows not at first whether to disturb the sisters until the two invite him in, to which he pardons himself and comes in on unsure footsteps still.

The reality of everything hasn't come to sink in quite yet. Seeing this, Brigid rolls her eyes and beckons him even closer — closer — closer — and that's when she tells that husband of hers to hold their son in his arms and make everything feel real already. Her sister laughs watching the two of them before nodding and gently encouraging Jamke to take Febail from Brigid's arms, being the final push the man needs to nod and go along with it as awkward as he might be about the whole thing.

That's his son in his arms. That's another life in Verdane's royal family, a bloodline not destined to end with him after all. The weight of this baby feels all the more heavy with that knowledge, and even after a few minutes have passed with the young Febail in his hold, he still doesn't know what to say or how to react, gaping and gawking at his child like he's not even his.

Congratulations are given all around, carrying through the rest of the day as the various people in Sigurd's army come to visit the couple, and there's a few light-hearted jokes at how stoic Verdane's older prince is being, but Jamke takes that matter more to heart.

Why does he not know how to react? Brigid's going to get worried, but Jamke passes through that day further, still reacting to it like it's not his and her day to revel in.

It's not until later when they need to change Febail that he spots Ulir's brand faintly glowing on the baby's back, and Jamke's stony face breaks, erupting into a silent stream of tears.

For as long as Verdane has existed, it has been known as the land of savages by the other Jugdrali powers. Any peace his kingdom has ever been able to find has been recent but peace does not necessarily mean respect. After all, the moment their treaty had been broken, the Grannvalians and the rest of Jugdral had all been too quick to proclaim their disdain upon them again, voicing what they had merely kept quiet about all these years. Verdane would never be seen as their equal, devoid of the divine blessings they had all been given via their Crusader founders.

This would have been the truth forevermore, but when Jamke spots Febail's brand, he realizes that this truth has now shattered. With his son, he can see a happier future for his beloved fatherland and at last, Jamke finds he can express what exactly he feels about this new chapter in his life.

___

[CHULAINN]

It has been some time since the arena's most prized gladiator had left his days of coliseum hopping, trailing after a stronger fighter than him. He still remembers that day fresh in his mind as if it had happened just yesterday. Lord Sigurd's sword moved both gracefully and mightily, blade seemingly an extension of him and his ideals. Chulainn lived each day looking to die and his sword carried the weight of that baggage with it; meanwhile, Sigurd lived brighter than that, living to make a new life, and the way he fought was breathtaking. When Chulainn tasted defeat, he realized he really did want to live but not just any life.

He saw Sigurd's way and decided he wanted a piece of that too. His life hadn't been the same since.

The ride since has been a hell of one, and each bout and battle was another test for Chulainn's will to live. Did he want to see tomorrow? Did he see the future as having a place for him? Just what did he live for exactly?

Though he had joined Sir Sigurd's company to find out, he can't say he's answered any of these questions just yet. He's lived, he's loved, and one day, he's gained a son to call his own.

He asks Brigid what their son's name is, to which she answers Febail. Febail, he repeats, marveling at the sound of it before he says it again and again.

Brigid laughs, wondering what's got into him all of a sudden. It's just a name, after all.

But to Chulainn, it's more than a name. It's the thing to cement that their life together is real, and now he knows what to say when someone asks him what he lives for.

He's found his answer, he discovers, and his life finally feels complete.

And now he has something to lose.

#// will fully confess some of these pairings i don't like actually MAKRGMRGMMK but hopefully my biases don't come out too much in these??#// ofc none of these are like. set in stone for febail in toa. i'll let potential other muses help me figure that out later haha #+. / drabbles.

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something-tofightfor · 4 years

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Tipping Point - 5

Pairing: Benjamin Greene x Julia Day … Benjamin Greene x Reader (friendship)

Word Count: 7463

Rating: M (language, marital issues)

Summary: Benjamin and Julia continue to navigate toward the end of their relationship, and Benjamin takes friendship with you to the next level... from thousands of miles away.

Author’s Note: So there’s a little more of the actual GD storyline in here, but I was able to keep it vague. I’m actually about half done with chapter 10 of this already... so I’m VERY far ahead of what I’m posting. Expect the remaining pieces of this to come a little more frequently moving forward... MAYBE with some good old Ryan Brenner or Logan smut thrown in to break it up. (I know that it’s a lot of angst but that’s what this story calls for SO FAR. That changes, I swear). Thank you for reading!!!

There was a knock on his door, and Benjamin cleared his throat before answering. “Yeah?” He heard the sound of the knob turning and then a few seconds later, Eric poked his head into the room, one eyebrow raised.

“You alright, Greene?” Am I? Benjamin put his book down, sitting up on the mattress and crossing his legs.

“Better than last week.” He furrowed his brow. “Sorry you had to see that, I wasn’t… it wasn’t what I intended.” Eric stepped fully into the room, taking a seat on the single bed that remained separate, head moving back and forth.

“Scared me, man.You walked in and just collapsed.” Benjamin sighed, agreeing. “Didn’t know why then, you know? But when you managed to get it out?” Eric shrugged. “Wish there was more I could have done for you, I -”

“You did enough.” Benjamin ran a hand through his hair, taking his glasses off and dropping them onto the bed next to him. “It didn’t hit me, not really, not until I got back here and looked down, and… she didn’t even fight for me. I thought that talking about it would make her realize how serious this is, but she just...agreed.” Because she won’t look bad. She might love me, but not as much as she loves the idea of looking good in everyone’s eyes. “I appreciate what you did, Eric. Getting me off of the floor and onto the couch, and…” Benjamin met the other man’s eyes, hoping that Eric could see how thankful he was. “Just sitting with me. I haven’t been like that in a long time.”

Both were silent until Eric rubbed one hand over his face, letting out a breath and saying your name. “My sister, she used to… they weren’t panic attacks, but she used to get real quiet when she was a kid, and she’d cry. Wouldn’t talk to anyone, would just sit by herself when she was upset, and I got… used to being there for her.” Really? “I’m sure she still has her moments, but it’s been better since she was in high school, but you … you looked a lot like she did, Greene. Lost and upset, and I couldn’t just let you stay on the ground.” Benjamin thought for a few moments, and then Eric interjected again, tone lighter. “Plus you were dripping all over the floor.” Benjamin felt himself laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners even though what Eric said wasn’t that funny. I needed that. Needed to laugh. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I’m going out, and I might … end up bringing someone back here.”

“Oh yeah?” Benjamin grinned. “Well don’t let me ruin that for you, I’ve got headphones and I know how to use them.” It was Eric’s turn to laugh, the man standing up and heading back toward the door. He paused with one hand on the knob, turning the top half of his body back toward Benjamin.

“I know I don’t know you that well, Benjamin, but what I do know? You’re a good guy. It sucks that you’re that upset, and that it sounds like your wife won’t work with you on this.” You have no idea. “Don’t give in.” Benjamin’s eyes widened and then narrowed, head cocked to the side. What? “It’s not my place to say anything, but… this shit can’t be one-sided. If you give in on this, go back and try to work it out on your own?” Eric rolled his eyes and held one hand up in front of him, slashing through the air with it. “I watched my parents fight all the time, Benjamin. Back and forth, one giving in to the other. It never works out, and everyone just ends up worse than they started.” This isn’t like that, we wouldn’t… Julia wouldn’t… But even as Benjamin nodded in thanks, he realized that Eric’s assessment of the situation was spot on.

He’d spent much of his relationship with Julia appeasing her, and throughout, the only thing that he hadn’t been willing to compromise on was his academic career. And look at me now. He glanced over at the nightstand, where his Master’s certificate was sitting, newly framed. He’d gone to the graduation ceremony - telling Julia when it was being held in case she wanted to show up to support him, but after the ceremony, when he reached out to ask where she was, he’d received a single line of text in reply. Couldn’t make it, but congratulations, Benjamin. That had almost hurt worse than the words they’d said to each other in the hotel room, but to Benjamin, it was just another thing in the long list of disappointments he’d experienced.

Eric had left him alone for much of the week following his return from meeting with his wife, and Benjamin had the suspicion that if he’d told the man - or his friends - when his graduation was, they would have shown up to celebrate him. But it wasn’t them I wanted there, it was her. Despite them agreeing to tentatively move forward with an annulment, Benjamin’s mindset was still that he loved Julia, and wanted to include her in the important parts of his life. But she doesn’t want that. She only wants what she can control. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, sighing deeply. And that’s not me.

After calming himself down and getting changed, Benjamin had thought carefully about the conversation they’d had. While he understood that he’d shocked her with his announcement that he’d willingly take all of the blame for the relationship ending, he was concerned with her lack of response. He’d expected the meeting to end with Julia in tears, yelling at him, and when it hadn’t, he’d been stunned. He knew his wife well enough to understand that the calm demeanor was likely hiding much stronger emotions. I’ll hear about it soon enough. Sending over the short list of legal options he’d come across the following morning, Benjamin hadn’t expected to hear back from her as quickly as he had, but Julia’s response had been brief; telling him she would look into it.

Will you, though? He climbed out of his bed, heading to his computer and turning it on. How long do I wait for you to reach back out? He waited daily for her to message him back with a choice, but after a week had passed, he still hadn’t heard anything. I’ll reach out tomorrow. The longer this goes on, the more… the worse it is. A small part of him still hoped that actually looking into the information would make Julia realize she wanted to save the marriage, but that bit of him grew smaller each day. He questioned his own motivations, wondering if it was selfish of him to expect her to give in and seek help when he was unwilling to compromise and work on it without outside help, but the more he considered it, he realized that he’d already been doing that.

They’d had conversations about his unhappiness, about the things that he - and they - felt that they should work on, and nothing had changed. Sure, things had improved for a day or two here, a weekend there, but they always slid backward, Benjamin feeling pushed to the side and Julia feeling as if he was treating her differently. It’s the only solution. It’s the only thing that would help. He firmly believed that - and if she didn’t, there was nothing that he could do to change her mind. Doesn’t matter how much I want it.

He’d started removing his wedding ring for short periods; an hour at home, a full day, while at work… and each time he took it off, it was more difficult to put it back on. He’d felt many things in the small metal band, but the comfort and security it had given him at first was nonexistent, and the more he wore it, the heavier it became. But I can’t take it off for good, not yet. Even the inscription on the inside - for my love - seemed to burn white hot against the skin of his finger on the worst days.

Benjamin wasn’t one to give up on anything, which had played a part in how steadfast he’d been in his belief that Kieran had made something for himself in the years that Benjamin had spent apart from him. But this isn’t giving up. This is… admitting the truth. He’d always love Julia; some small part of him would always care for the woman, but as each day passed, he realized that it wasn’t enough. Not enough to endure this. Not enough to… force it. He shut his computer down, deciding to go and enjoy the emptiness of the flat at least long enough to watch a movie while stretched out on the couch.

Twenty five minutes later, Benjamin was dozing off, the cool air from the cracked door flowing through the room when he was startled into a sitting position by the sound of an incoming Skype call. What? Blinking rapidly, he stood and looked around the room, his eyes landing on Eric’s laptop, which was open on the table. I didn’t even see that. Taking a breath, Benjamin sat back down, rubbing at his eyes as the sound stopped. Must’ve left it unlocked. He blinked again as he realized what that fact meant: that Eric trusted him with his personal life and the information contained on his computer. But he doesn’t know anything about me, I could… Benjamin lowered his head. Why wouldn’t he trust me?

The sound went off again, and this time Benjamin stood, intending to simply close the laptop, disconnecting the device from the Internet and letting whoever was calling know that Eric wasn’t available. But when he reached the computer, he saw your picture on the screen and paused. Oh. The call ended, Benjamin with one hand at the top of the screen, a frown on his face. She’s called twice, I wonder if it’s important. Beginning to lower the lid, Benjamin stopped as another call came through. I’ll answer and tell her that Eric’s out, that she should just text him.

Leaning in, he pressed the button to answer the call, taking a deep breath. “Eric? You asshole, why aren’t yo- oh. Benjamin? Why are you answering on Eric’s laptop?” You were seated at a different table, and Benjamin bit back a smile at the annoyed tone of your voice. “Is he not…”

“He’s out on a date.” Still leaning in, Benjamin gritted his teeth, wrinkling his nose. “Left his laptop open on the table.” You swore under your breath, closing your eyes. “I was watching a movie and your call actually woke me up.” You eyed him carefully, waiting. “I was just going to close the screen, but you’ve called a few times, and I wanted to make sure everything was alright.” He watched shock cross your features, but you quickly recovered.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m fine, I just…” You looked away and then back at the screen. “Just needed to ask him something, and he wasn’t answering his phone, so I thought I’d try to call.” She’s lying. He watched as you carefully chose your words, but you couldn’t hide the tightness of your jaw, or the way the fingers of one hand drummed atop the table.

“Do you need me to call him? Maybe if I reach out, since he just saw me…” You shook your head, waving your hand.

“Not a big deal, it can wait.” Can it? Three Skype calls and at least one phone call doesn’t seem like it’s not a big deal. “How’s it going Benjamin?” You changed the subject, clearing your throat and tilting your head to the side. “I don’t want to pry, but… the last time Eric mentioned you, you weren’t…”

“That’s a long story.” He sighed. “And not one that I feel comfortable having over your brother’s Skype account.” He felt himself smiling, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I appreciate you asking, though.” He glanced down, looking at the clock. “It’s what, nearly half three there?” It took you a second, but you told him he was right.

‘You know the time difference between London and Chicago, Benjamin?” There was curiosity in your tone, but it wasn’t an accusation. “Why?” He thought for a moment and then decided to go with the truth.

“I looked it up when Eric was home for Christmas. He added me on Facebook, and whenever I’d see his updates, they were at strange times.” Benjamin paused. “Sorry if it’s odd, I -”

“No.” You shook your head. “Not strange. That makes sense. You don’t have many American friends do you?” I don’t. “He told me he added you.” You shifted in your chair. “A day or so after that party.” You went quiet, and he watched you, eyes on your posture, which was more relaxed than it had been, the look in your eyes less wild. “I would have added you too, Benjamin, but…” You trailed off. I figured. “Look, I’ll let you get back to your movie, but if you’re still awake when Eric gets home, can you… can you tell him to call me? It doesn’t matter how late.” He was startled at the rapid change in your demeanor, but Benjamin agreed. “Thank you.”

“You know…” He spoke quickly, not taking the time to second guess his words. “I …” He glanced down, eyes landing on the bare skin of his left ring finger. I’m not doing anything wrong. “If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.” He gestured at the empty flat. “I’ve got no plans, and I can give you my account, you can Skype with me.” Did I overstep? Benjamin watched your reaction, surprised to see that there wasn’t much of one, though your eyes widened slightly. “I’m not your brother, but I’ve been told that I -”

“I don’t want to intrude, Benjamin.” You chewed on your lower lip. “You’re still married, and I don’t want anyone to think…” He laughed at that, his hand combing through his hair. “Looks like we both have some things to talk about.”

---

Fifteen minutes later, Benjamin was back in his room, sitting at the small table that doubled as his desk and waiting for your call. He’d given you his email address and then hung up, closing Eric’s computer before he straightened, popping his back. That was a surprise. Even though it had been a short conversation, he’d enjoyed talking to you - but the fact that he’d been quick to offer a listening ear had come as a shock to him. As he waited for you, he thought about what Julia would think, and guilt crept in. She’d be jealous. Suspicious. She wouldn’t care that it’s only because I could tell she needs to talk about something. He stared at the screen, eyes on his profile picture. Is that it?

Benjamin’s first conversation with you in the very bedroom he now lived in had been a welcome change of pace from his previous interactions with women - Bianca excluded. You were interested, polite, and you let him speak without cutting him off. She listened to me. She was curious. He’d never intended to form any sort of friendship with you; how could he, when you were thousands of miles away for the majority of the time? That trip had been your first to London, even though Eric had already been in the country for eight months - and there were no more plans for you to come back. Julia wouldn’t have cared, she would have seen it as a breach of trust.

Benjamin scrubbed at his face, debating over whether or not to put his glasses on in order to take the call when the screen changed, an incoming call alert pinging. Doesn’t matter now. He answered after only a few seconds, taking another deep breath. “Hi.” You’d moved too, back into the room that he’d first seen you in onscreen, and you’d thrown your hair back, securing it loosely. She changed her shirt. “Comfortable?”

“I should be asking you that, Benjamin.” You paused. “I slept on all three of those beds when I was there, trying to find the most comfortable one, and -”

“It’s definitely not the one closest to the closet.” He rolled his eyes. “I actually pushed the other two together to give me more space, and it’s worked out so far.” You put your face in your hands, laughing and telling him that you hadn’t thought of that. “Well you were only here for a week, I’ve been here for a few months, so I had to do something.” Peeking back up at him, you agreed, taking a deep breath.

“How are you adjusting to being back in London full time?” He scratched the side of his head. Guess I’m going first.

“It’s been easier than I thought, actually.” He spoke about what he’d been up to, telling you about his job and Zac and Bianca’s engagement, about the other new friends he’d made through work. “I miss Devon, but it’s been… it hasn’t been bad here.”

“What about Julia?” The curiosity was back. “You’ve seen her a few times since you’ve been in London, has she… has anything changed?” A lot. Benjamin weighed his options. How much do I tell her? How much does she want to hear?

“We met last week - the night you were talking to Eric when I came home?” You nodded, eyes focused on Benjamin’s face. “We… well, I…” He swallowed. “She’s still refusing to see someone, and I refused to just go back to the way things were.” You frowned, telling him that you were sorry. “I am, too. I really thought we’d…” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter now. She used the word divorce for the first time, and I… I gave her another option, one where she could save face and it would look like I…”

“Is that what’s best, Benjamin?” Your chin was propped up on your knuckles. “For you, I mean?” Does it matter? He didn’t answer right away and you continued. “It’s none of my business, but I… from what you said that first night we met, this is what you’ve done for the past few years.” You rubbed at the back of your neck. “You shouldn’t have to -”

“It’s what’s best, yeah. I think so anyway.” His heartbeat quickened. “Julia’s… she’s stubborn, but when I told her what I was thinking, it caught her off guard.” Very off guard. “I think she’s still expecting me to change my mind, but I won’t compromise on this, because it’s important to me.” You replied softly, the word “good” barely audible. “I haven’t spoken to her in a while, but I’ll need to reach out, because I can’t… can’t leave this to her.” The words spilled out, Benjamin grateful that someone was taking the time to listen to him. I told her some of this already, I shouldn’t rehash it, she doesn’t… “If it’s just going to end, I don’t want to draw it out.” He glanced up at the ceiling, trying to steady himself. “That’s not good for either of us.”

“No.” You scoffed, closing your eyes and going silent. “It’s not.” He watched you for a few seconds and then said your name, waiting until you opened your eyes again to speak.

“Your turn.” You forced a smile. “What was so important that you called your brother so many times on a Friday night?” Keep it friendly. Don’t make it serious. He didn’t know what was wrong, but didn’t want you to feel like you were on the spot.

“Benjamin… would you ever …. Date a friend of your brother’s?” You knew about Kieran in vague terms, and Benjamin didn’t want to give anything else away. Keeping a straight face he thought it over.

“Well, that depends.” He leaned back in his chair, keeping his eyes on your face. “Are they a new friend, or someone he’s known for a while?”

“Known a while. A really good friend that you know, too.” Well I certainly wouldn’t date any of Kieran’s friends. “A good guy. Smart, has a good job.” You were frowning as you spoke.

“It doesn’t seem like you…” He tapped his fingers against his lips. “I’m going to skip the rubbish, if you don’t mind.” You inhaled sharply, waiting. “Tell me why you don’t seem to think that it’s a good idea.”

“Oh, I…” You straightened your shoulders. “It’s not that I don’t think that it’s a good idea, I just… I never considered it before, you know?” You glanced off to the side. “So one of Eric’s friends just asked…” You explained your situation to him, and Benjamin listened without interrupting. One of Eric’s childhood best friends had seen you leaving work the previous day, and the two of you had spoken at length in a parking lot before exchanging numbers, since you’d lost touch over the years. He’d called earlier that day, asking if you wanted to go out on a date with him. “He said he’d wanted to ask for a while, but always felt strange about it since we basically grew up together.” You shrugged. “I said yes, but I’m thinking I shouldn’t have.”

“Why?” It was his turn to be curious. “Are you single?” You nodded. “Are you attracted to him?” You didn’t nod.

“I’ve never thought about him that way before.” You pressed your lips together. “He’s smart, like I said, and he’s … not into drugs or anything like that. And he’s not bad looking, but he’s Eric’s friend, you know? I just…” Benjamin waited. “It’s just weird to think about, Benjamin. He’s seen me in my awkward teenage years, before I knew how to dress or do my makeup, or …” He was listening, but Benjamin found himself wondering what you’d been like as a teenager, what you and Eric had gotten into as kids. Stop. “I don’t want to screw anything up - between him and Eric, I mean.” You covered your face with your hands. “Like what if we end up dating, and then Eric has to think about me with his -”

“He’s an adult.” Benjamin blinked quickly. “Just like you are. Were you calling to ask… ask Eric if he’d mind if you went out with his friend?” You peeked through your fingers, telling Benjamin he was correct. “If I were you?” You lowered your hands. “And take this with a grain of salt, because you’ve seen how my latest relationship played out… but I’d go out with him. See if you’re… compatible, and then go from there.”

“You would?” Benjamin repeated himself. “But what if -”

“It’s easier to do it and then say something than tell him and then worry about what he’s thinking.” He winked at you. “Though you’ve tried to call him a few times, and he’ll wonder what it was about, so you might have to tell him what’s going on.” Swearing loudly, you started laughing, hanging your head and Benjamin followed suit, feeling lighter than he had in a week. “Really, though, if he’s what you say he is, there’s no harm in going out with him, at least once.” Benjamin heard the sound of you sighing. Did she want me to tell her not to do it? “You’ll know quickly if you’re into him.” Benjamin said your name again, this time more gently. “And he’s obviously into you… what’s one date going to hurt?”

---

Benjamin kept in contact with you throughout the next week, a few messages sent back and forth. You’d decided to go out with Noah, and you’d told Eric that that was the plan. He’s alright with it, so that’s a surprise. Benjamin laughed as he replied back with a thumbs up, tucking his phone back into his pocket. Good. I hope it goes well.

He’d also spoken to Julia - both on the phone and over messages - the woman coldly telling him that she still hadn’t made a decision about which firm to go with on a Tuesday, and then reaching out again on Friday to let him know that she’d narrowed it down, and it was up to Benjamin to choose between the final two. He’d done so quickly, but held off on sending his response back until the following morning, not wanting it to seem as if he’d rushed it. But this isn’t rushing. It’s been weeks. Months. He felt the device vibrating against his leg and Benjamin reached for it, seeing Julia’s image on the screen. Here we go.

“Benjamin?” Her tone was clipped. “They can see us next week to get things started.” They can? “We’ll need to go in and meet with them and see how we move forward.” She’s … taking this seriously. “That means from now until Wednesday is all the time you’ll have.” To what? “This is your last chance. Come home, and deal with this like a m-”

“Like a man, Julia? Is that what you’re going to say?” He felt himself getting angry. “I’d think that me being willing to take all the blame for this even though my reason is something you’ve known for years is man enough.” His breath was coming quickly, one knee bouncing. “I’ve tried to deal with this. I’ve tried to make you understand, but this is what it’s come to.” He looked down, finger once again bare. As it will be. “Giving you the option to find yourself some happiness wherever you can instead of being weighted down by me is me being a man isn’t it?” She was quiet on the other end of the line. “I tried to do this the right way, Julia. Being honest and open and trying to work with you, but you still don’t get it.”

“Oh I get it, Benjamin.” She forced a laugh out. “I understand completely.” Do you? “I’ll see you Wednesday. Half past twelve, don’t be late.” She hung up before he could say another word, and Benjamin stared at his phone’s screen for long moments, trying to process things. This is happening. It’s… only a few days, and everything starts. He tightened his hold on the device, ready to put it away when another message from you came through. Got plans tomorrow, Benjamin? I’m going to tell you all about this date you suggested I go on after it’s over.

He swallowed. I definitely shouldn’t be giving relationship advice. But he unlocked his phone, hesitating before he typed. None of the gritty details, please.

---

You Skyped him late Sunday afternoon, and Benjamin realized with a start that it was before noon for you. She just woke up. He looked you over, noticing the t-shirt that you’d likely slept in, along with your lack of makeup. She’s comfortable with me seeing her like this. His lips twitched. Interesting. “Well, how’d it go?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re in your room, and it looks like you’re alone, so-”

“You said you didn’t want the details, Benjamin Greene.” Your mouth dropped open in mock surprise. “I’m kidding. We went to dinner and then saw a movie. It was a … a basic date.” You licked your lips. “It wasn’t bad.” That doesn’t sound promising. “I think it was a little weird for both of us, just because of Eric, but…” You rubbed your eyes. “I was home around eleven, and he didn’t even ask to come in or anything.” A gentleman.

“I’m not sure what I should say here.” He watched you shifting on the chair you sat in, drawing a knee up, your foot resting on the edge of the chair. Bare legs? Hmm. “Are you -”

“I said we should go out again, this time when it’s still daylight, so we can do something that’s outside, not just a restaurant and a movie theater.” Smart. “It’s weird, though, he didn’t even try to kiss me, just hugged me goodnight and left.” What? That’s…

“That’s odd.” He spoke without thinking. “I would hav-” Benjamin cut himself off. I would have what? He saw the confusion on your face. “If I’d gone out with someone and had a good date,” he recovered, trying to keep his expression even. “I would have kissed them at the end of the night.” He held up a hand as you opened your mouth. “But. He might just be taking it slow because there is a history between you, and he doesn’t want to make it awkward.” You agreed with him, and Benjamin felt himself relaxing. But what was I tense about? He decided he’d consider that later, refocusing his attention on on you.

“Why are first kisses so awkward, Benjamin?” You were playing with your hair. “It’s been so long since I’ve had to be nervous about something like that, and it’s not like Noah’s a total stranger, but I was still… nervous thinking it would happen, which is weird.” He thought back to his first kiss with Julia - the surprise that had been written on her face when he pulled away. It surprised me, too.

“You were thinking of it, so that must mean it’s something that you wanted.” He leaned in, staring at you through the screen. “That’s a good sign, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You talked for a few more minutes, and just after you’d told him you were going to go and make something for breakfast, Benjamin interjected.

“Julia and I are seeing lawyers on Wednesday. We’re stating the…” He swallowed, trying to work up the courage to use the words. “The annulment process.”

“An annulment? Don’t you have to meet certain requirements for that? Not consummating the marriage or someone lying about something or being forced to…” Yes. He nodded slowly. “Well she would have been crazy not to sleep with you for two years, so I know that’s not it.” You spoke quickly, and Benjamin heard your words but didn’t focus on them, instead trying to calm his own heartbeat. You just basically told her there’s a secret. “If… if you ever want to get it off your chest, Benjamin, I’m… I’ll listen.” You smiled at him, but it wasn’t one of pity, nor was it one that gave him any indication that you were insincere. “I mean it. But I’m starving, so Im going to go eat. Have a good … afternoon?” He grinned. I’ll try.

Throughout the rest of that night and the following day, Benjamin mulled over your words. Crazy not to sleep with me? What does that mean? When he wasn’t thinking about that, he worried about his appointment with Julia and the lawyers, trying to prepare himself for whatever was to come.

He took a half day Wednesday, heading home at 11 to change and then catching a taxi to the office, arriving a few minutes early. He checked with the receptionist, but Julia wasn’t there yet, and so he sat down to wait, pulling his phone out to silence it when a message popped up on the screen. I set my alarm for 6:15 am for this, Benjamin. Good luck today.

He stared at the words for long moments, but before he could reply and thank you, he heard Julia’s voice saying his name. Here we go. “Afternoon, Julia.” He stood, walking over to her. “They’re not ready for us, but now that you’re here, we can -”

“Let’s get this over with, Benjamin.” She met his eyes, and he saw a look in them that he hadn’t seen since their wedding day, as they came face to face on the beach at the base of the cliffs. She hates me. I’m doing this for her and she hates me. “The sooner we start, the better, right?”

An hour and a half later, Benjamin and Julia stepped out of the office, and he was more overwhelmed then he’d ever been in his entire life. After quickly explaining their situation to the legal team, Benjamin and Julia had taken turns telling their respective sides of the story - Julia reiterating that she’d known something was amiss before their marriage, but that Benjamin had been convincing, telling her that there was nothing to worry about, that he’d been truthful. She sounds like she believes it. Is this what… is this going to become truth?

He’d replied by telling everyone in the room that almost no one knew what the truth was, that since he’d been a child when he’d confessed, it had been stricken from his official record, and since he’d changed his name, it was difficult to connect him to Sean White and Kieran. “I didn’t do it out of spite,” he explained, turning in his chair to face Julia, ignoring the lawyers. “It was never out of spite, not for a second.” She met his gaze, but her eyes were cold. “I wanted to see someone, to talk through all of this, to explain fully, but … but Julia won’t, and so… so here we are.”

“Well, Ms. Day, the fact that you never took Mr. Greene’s last name strengthens the case.” The female lawyer that sat across the table from them was scribbling on a pad of paper, shoulders set. “This typically takes months to finalize, but if you’re both in agreement, and the decree will be uncontested -”

“It will be.” Her voice sharp, Julia spoke again. “I’m tired. I’m tired of trying to make him understand how much this has all hurt me. How much it’s damaged my relationship with my children… how much it’s changed me.” He could hear the hurt in her voice, and Benjamin felt his heart twisting in his chest. This hurts me too.

“I’ve got nothing to contest. I just want what’s best for her.” Benjamin reached out to take Julia’s hand, but she pulled it away quickly, tucking it onto her lap. “It’s been… we’ve tried to come to a different agreement, but there’s… there’s nothing else we can do.” There really isn’t. This is it.

They both paused outside of the building, people bustling by them on the sidewalk. The air was warm - early April had been unseasonably nice - and Benjamin watched as a slight breeze ruffled Julia’s hair. The woman stared at him, and though her eyes had softened, she was still looking at him with contempt. “I hope you’re happy, Benjamin.” She spat the words out. “That was humiliating, me having to tell them that I was a fool for three years, the entire time I knew -”

“Yeah? How about how humiliating it was for me to pretend that I married you and deceived you for two years? About having to tell these people that you couldn’t even find it in your heart to take my last name because you didn’t trust me, even though that wasn’t it?” He paused. Or was it? Was that it the whole time? That you didn’t want the stain of my name legally tied to ... “I’m going to have to tell that story again and again in front of countless people, and you get to sit back and play th-” He cut himself off. Too far. ‘And pretend that it’s the truth.” But the damage was done and she lifted her hand as if she was going to slap him. Benjamin held his ground, staring her in the eye. Do it. If it makes you feel better, do it.

“You know, Benjamin…” She laughed, raising one hand to run her fingers through her hair, pulling it away from her face. “I thought, up until I walked into that office this afternoon, that you wouldn’t go through with this.” She shook her head. “Alexia was right - I shouldn’t have even tried so hard to save this. Is it really that bad being married to me? That bad that you won’t come home? That you won’t try?” She lowered her hand, sliding it into her pocket. “I gave you everything, Benjamin. A house, a car, money, anything you wanted.” He felt tears welling up in his eyes. This is you trying hard?

“None of it mattered if you didn’t love me, Julia. And you didn’t trust me, not fully. Not… not ever. And without that?” He wiped at his eyes. “It’s all worthless.” She stared at him for a few seconds and then turned away, heading down the sidewalk and away from him. I need a drink.

---

Benjamin checked his email and the mail slot nearly constantly for the next few weeks, waiting for correspondence from the legal team. They’d filled out relevant paperwork the first appointment, but he knew there was more to come. When he received anything, he was quick to open it and read through it, filling things out and returning them without delay. He always texted Julia to keep her updated, and hoped that she was doing the same, not waiting until the last minute to return documents. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can be done with it. It upset him - the fact that he was essentially counting down the days until his marriage was erased from the records - but he knew that it was what was best. There’s no coming back from this.

Julia changed her Facebook status but didn’t defriend him, and while it hurt him to see her answering questions publicly, he read them every now and then, wanting to see what she was saying so that he could be prepared. What surprised him the most was that she didn’t elaborate on what he’d lied to her about, aside from saying that he’d kept parts of his past from her, that she couldn’t forgive him for keeping who he truly was and where he was from a secret.

Roughly three weeks after they’d signed the initial petition, Benjamin got a text from Leo, and though it was short, it was encouraging. I know it’s hard, mate, but you know the truth. You always will. And so will she, even if she doesn’t admit it. He replied back, thanking Leo, and even though Benjamin didn’t want to admit it, there was a small sense of satisfaction in knowing that no matter how hard she pretended otherwise, Julia would always have to live with the fact that though she treated him terribly, Benjamin had taken the fall for her shortcomings. Leo’s answering text had actually made him laugh - When this is all over, let’s meet for a pint, you can tell me what really happened - and Benjamin sent back one word - definitely - a small smile on his face.

He kept Eric updated on the most important details of what was happening, letting him know to listen for parcel deliveries on the days that he was home, since some of the documents were brought by a courier. He’d also routinely talk about it with Zac and Bianca, but the person he spoke to the most about his situation was you. Sometimes, you’d talk over Skype, other times you’d use your phones and FaceTime. Benjamin was surprised with how patient you were, listening to his complaints and his questions, answering them to the best of your ability. She doesn’t even know me, and she’s trying harder than Julia did.

He enjoyed talking with you - the conversations often serving as the best parts of his day, and he told you time and time again that he was thankful you’d spoken to him on the balcony, opening up the potential to make a new friend in a time when he wouldn’t have thought twice about talking to another woman. “I didn’t want anything from you, Benjamin.” You laughed, the sound quiet in his ear. “You just looked like you needed someone to talk to.” Does she mean that? “I mean it.” Both of you were quiet on the line, and then you spoke again. “I’ve got to go, though, I’m meeting Noah and his brother, we’re going to a baseball game, even though it’s still freezing outside.”

“Baseball’s always fascinated me.” He stared up at his ceiling. “Hopefully if I ever get over to the States, I’ll be able to catch a game or two.” You laughed again. “What?”

“You made a baseball pun, and you probably don’t even realize it.” He closed his eyes. I didn’t. “But I’m already late, I’ve really got to go. Get some sleep, alright? I know it’s late over there.” It was - it was nearly midnight, and he had work the following morning. “Sorry to keep you up.” Don’t apologize, I’m the one that answered. You hung up soon after that, and thought he fell asleep quickly, Benjamin found himself opening your Facebook page when he woke up, clicking through the images you’d uploaded overnight.

He’d added you a couple weeks after your first Skype conversation, not caring what Julia thought, since you were just his roommate’s sister, and it was clear that you were seeing someone. Would it matter if she wasn’t? Benjamin swiped through pictures until he got to one of you and Noah from the night before, the two of you sitting in hard plastic seats, a plain baseball cap atop your head, and the man’s arm around your shoulders. She looks happy. You did - you had a wide smile in all of the pictures that you posted both with and without Noah in them, but he noticed that you weren’t leaning into the man next to you; there was a space between you. Maybe it’s the seats.

But he kept swiping, and the others of you and the man - taller than you and with medium brown hair and green eyes - were the same, even from other days. She’s smiling, but… He didn’t want to read into anything, and knew that pictures weren’t always the best indication of the truth, but Benjamin knew faking happiness better than most. But she’s never said anything to make me think… Double tapping on one of the pictures of the two of you, Benjamin glanced once more at the expression on your face and then closed out of the app, setting his phone down. Let it go. Go to work.

By the end of May, Benjamin had filled out just about every form he could think of that had to do with ending his marriage, and there was still no date set for court, where he and Julia would have to speak in front of a judge. He’d spent hours looking into the process, and could pinpoint the exact place on the timeline where it felt as if they were stuck. This can’t move forward without that court date. I’m not sure what we’re waiting for. He was frustrated, but even the man hired to represent him couldn’t give him any additional information, and Julia had taken to ignoring his calls, though she had no issue talking about him with her friends online. Thought she wanted to keep this private. Based on comments, he was simply another person in Julia’s life that had wronged her. Even though that’s not at all what happened.

The first week of June, Benjamin got a phone call in the middle of work, answering it on the second ring. “Benjamin.” The voice that he’d grown to love sounded cold and distant in his ear, and he grimaced, pushing his glasses atop his head.

“I’m at work, Julia, what’s going on?” There was silence on the other end of the line, and then she spoke.

“I just got word from the law office. We … we don’t have to go to court. The judge accepted the petition, and all we’ll have to do is meet to sign the final decree.” He felt his eyes widen, and Benjamin sat up straight. “They can fit us in tomorrow or Monday, either day is…” She trailed off, and he heard the slightest bit of warmth creeping back into her tone. “We can still call this off. We don’t have to sign.” He considered her words briefly, and then thought of the things he’d read on her page, the way she’d spoken about him to her friends and family, everyone but Leo seeming to take her side. There’s no coming back from this. They all know… they all think I lied. It would be horrible.

“We can’t do that, Julia. Not anymore. Too much… too much has been said. Too much has been talked about with people that shouldn’t have been involved in this.” You’d talk to your friends about me, telling lies, but you didn’t want to get help. He swallowed, closing his eyes. “I can meet tomorrow. Any time.” I need to be done with this.

---

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phantoms-lair · 4 years

Text

EnergyBending snippets

Takes place late in my Nursery Rhyme/Avatar Zuko Story. Unlike in cannon Zuko’s main focus was bringing back airbenders, so things didn’t go as badly between the group and Wan Shi Tong. Zuko learned Energy Bending rather than about the Day of Black Sun (though that does come in later), but he learned it from a book, so he doesn’t have the confidence Aang had with the Lion Turtle gifting it to them.

“Toph’s asleep.” Aang reported.

Zuko’s breathed out a sigh of relief. He wanted this to be a private conversation and she was the one he was most worried about overhearing. Sure she was brash and forward, but he hadn’t forgotten how sneaky she was capable of being, hiding her second identity from her parents. “Could you wait here too?”

Aang crossed his arms. “Sokka won’t even know I’m there.”

“But I would. And it would feel like I’m ganging up on him, but it has to be his choice and-”

Aang put his hands up. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll stay here.”

“You could always get some lesson plans ready.” Zuko suggested, which had Aang grinning.

Zuko left his tent and went to where Sokka would be standing watch. He was often the last to go to sleep, taking the safety of the group seriously. “Can we talk?”

“I’m not stopping you.” Sokka shrugged.

“I’ve been studying the techniques I learned at Wan Shi Tong’s library. It’s been focusing far more on the Spiritual Side of being an Avatar than I’ve ever done. According to Aang more than any Avatar has done in generations. But I think I’ve got it. I can use energybending to make more airbenders.”

He heard the sharp intake of Sokka’s breath. He understood how important this was. “I just need to put it into action, and the first new airbender...Sokka I want it to be you.”

Sokka crossed his arms, but didn’t respond for a few minutes. "I don't need bending,” He finally said, tersely.

Zuko took a deep breath. "Sokka, you are without a doubt one of the greatest warriors I have ever met. You're clever, adaptive, and pick up new disciplines faster than anyone I've ever seen. If I ever heard anyone suggest you needed to be a bender I'd fight them myself, if everyone one else in our camp didn't beat me to it."

"You don't need to be a bender, it's more...I need a bender to be you."

Sokka raised an eyebrow. "And that makes sense how?"

"We don't have much time before the Day of Black Sun. In that time I need to at least create some new airbenders in case I die. But I need to know this is going to work. And for that I need the first new airbender to be someone who can travel with us. But our path in dangerous and they'd need to be able to defend themselves, and not with a bending they're not used to. I need the first airbender to be a warrior who doesn't have to rely on bending, but who's adaptive enough to be able to incorporate it into what they already do. Who else could that be but you?"

"Katara, can we talk?"

Katara looked up from breakfast at the serious expression on her brother's face. He looked like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. "What about?"

Sokka took a deep breath. "Zuko wants me to become an airbender."

It took her a moment to process what she'd heard. "Wait, you? Why?"

"The long story short of it: I'm adaptable and don't need to rely on bending to fight." Sokka plopped down by the fire. "It's weird, you know? I wasn't the biggest fan of your bending back at the South Pole. Then bending got us mixed up in all kinds of weird stuff after we teamed up with Zuko and Iroh, and I was glad I never had to deal with that. But after a while I got, you know, jealous. You and Iroh, and Toph can doo all these amazing things, and Zuko was the flipping Avatar, and here I was just a guy with a boomerang."

"You know none of us saw you that way, right?" Katara asked, her eyes looking troubled.

"I know, it's just... I'm afraid the part of me that wants to say yes just wants to feel special, while another part of me is how much I'm afraid I won't be me anymore, and I don't know what to do. I know logically Zuko's right. I'm the best candidate we have right now. But I'm scared."

"Okay, let's do this before I change my mind."

"No."

Sokka blinked at Zuko and his instant shut down. "What?"

"We're not doing this unless you're completely sure. There's too much risk otherwise."

Sokka's eyes narrowed. "What risk, you never said anything about risk."

"Because the risk isn't to you." Zuko snapped, then took a few breaths to calm down. "Consensual energy bending like what I have planned has no real risk. But if you panic and change your mind it becomes a battle of will. Your will has never faltered. Mine has. You could shatter me, Sokka, so excuse me for not wanting to risk that until I know my work is done.”

There was a whole lot to unpack there. Zuko's lack of faith in himself, his utter faith in Sokka (who had to admit he was kind of touched the Avatar had no doubts he would be the one to come off better in a test of wills), or Zuko implying that the risk would be okay, as long as he'd made enough Airbenders to know the cycle wouldn't be broken upon his death.

It also helped to know Zuko wasn't so eager that he'd pressure Sokka into it. That took a load off his mind.

"I'm sure." Zuko looked up from his meditation. He didn't have to ask what Sokka meant.

"I thought about it and I had a lot of concerns about a lot of things, but in the end, I think it came down to your concern. You're right. Letting the cycle stay broken any longer than absolutely necessary is beyond risky. Being the Avatar doesn't protect you from death. I swore I'd do anything I could to help end the war. This wasn't what I was expecting, but I can’t turn away from it."

Zuko nodded. Duty and Honor were what he understood best. "Okay. Sit down in front of me. I'm going to need to put my hands on your head and heart to do this. Like I said before, please don't fight me. Also it would help if you focused on Air to give it something to anchor to." Zuko tried to sound wise teacherish, if only to hide how nervous he was about the procedure.

He placed his hands where he said and bent. It was...like nothing he'd ever done before, it wasn't just pulling on an element, it was raising his awareness. He could suddenly see into Sokka's soul, and see the nodes of chakra that governed it. Sokka's elemental nodes were reasonably balanced with a slight weight towards Water. Not unusual for a non bender and oh hey he could raise Sokka's spiritual awareness and give Aang someone else to talk to.

Tempting, but no. He'd stick to what he said and no more.

He strengthened the Air Charkra and pulled energy into it. But almost as quickly it drained out. "Sokka, are you focusing on air?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking of all those dumb temples and everything."

There was a beat of silence. "Sokka YOU ARE NOT A MONK. Those images mean nothing to you. Don't think about the image of what you think an Airbender should be. What does air mean to you?"

To him? Sokka was taken aback. Air was...was...Air was wind. It was blowing snowflakes in a blizzard while Gran Gran told them stories of the North Pole. It was the crisp scent of salt as he stood on the shores waiting for his father's boat to return, which could turn sharp as a knife if it wanted. It was the warmth that filled their balloon and let them travel between poles all the way into the Fire Nation. Wind was Home. Wind was Freedom.

And something in Sokka clicked. He opened his eyes to see an exhausted looking Zuko pulling his hand away, and the others just watching mouths mostly agape, with rocks clinging to Katara’s legs.

"Will someone tell me what's happening?" Toph grumbled, keeping her hold on Katara.

"It was quite the impressive light show, nephew." Iroh observed, stroking his beard. "From both of you."

"Both? Sokka's jaws worked up and down. Sure Zuko glowing was one thing, with his while Avatar dealy, but him too?

"Sweetness here tried to grab you away. I may not know what's going on but, I figured that would be bad." Toph explained.

"It would have." Zuko panted. "But it worked. " He gave Sokka a tried smile. "Congratulations. You're an airbender."

"Hey Zuko, just to be clear. All we're doing is sitting at you families beach house laying low till the Day of Black Sun, right? There's nothing we need to be working on?"

Zuko shot Sokka a look. "Well, you need to be working on your airbending forms, otherwise no." Sokka's face had been pure mischief, Katara had caught it too. As had Toph, though she was grinning in a way that made things worse.

"Well I think this is a perfect time for a little Energy Bending practice. More precisely, I think you should take away Katara's waterbending till we're ready to leave."

Katara let out a squack of indignation and Zuko just sighed. "Sokka, remember when I explained energy bending can be risky if the other person is unwilling? There is no way she's going to willingly give up her bending even temporarily." Zuko pointed out.

"I wasn't suggesting we leave her empty handed." Sokka waved them off. "Something like, say, firebending?"

"Why on Earth do you think I'd willingly become a firebender?" Katara asked heatedly.

"Because when Zuko was having a hard time getting a grasp on waterbending, you made a claim that you could pick up fire much easier than he did water. I just want to see if it's true. Or do you admit you were empty boasting?"

Katara glared at him, then marched up to Zuko. "Fire-ize me."

Zuko sputtered, not expecting that. "Are...are you joking?"

"Do it!" Katara’s tone left no room to argue.

Zuko could feel the headache building, but put one hand on Katara's head and the other over her heart. It was honestly far easier than giving Sokka airbending. The water was well entrenched, but her anger was practically singing for fire. "Done. You might want to ask Uncle for lessons, though. He's a better teacher than me."

She gave a curt nod, then a predatory smile at her brother, then walked off.

"I can't BELIEVE you got away with that!" Toph was rolling on the ground laughing.

"Who says he did?" Zuko smirked. "He got his sister pissed at him, then convinced me to give her the power to shoot fire."

Toph laughed even harder as all the color drained from Sokka's face. "Better throw yourself on the mercy of the Avatar. It's the only chance you got."

"Nope, even the Avatar knows to pick his battles. The entire fire nation army is one thing, I learned my lesson about little sister bending prodigies with fire. Good luck Sokka."

It was good to be free Cheif Hakoda thought as he stepped out of the balloon Sokka and the Avatar had rescued him in. They were in the Western Air Temple, apparently. According to to Sokka the Avatar's Uncle, an earthbender, and more importantly Katara was there as well. He saw her before she saw him. She was doing waterbending forms and he just wanted a moment to stop and look at her, to see how much she'd grown... And then a small gout of fire burst from her hands.

"Sokka, I don't remember your sister being a firebender," Suki commented, staring at the sight.

"We probably should have mentioned that." Zuko admitted.

"Hey Katara, guests!" Toph said with a laugh.

"Guests? Toph who could visit us way up here." Then she turned and saw them. "Dad?" she chocked, before running and squeezing him as hard as she could.

"I'm here too," Suki joked.

"Zuko and I May have staged a prison break. At the most high security Fire Nation prison to get him out." Sokka tried to sound casual, but was obviously pleased with himself.

"Aang wants to point out he was there too." Zuko added.

"Who's Aang, and why is Katara firebending?" Hakoda felt more confused by the second.

"Aang is Zuko's Spirit Guide. As for the firebending, I just thought Katara should put her skill where her mouth was. Or rather her lack of skill." Sokka sounded smug.

"You better be glad I'm so happy Dad's here or you'd be getting a fiery first to the face."

"Like you could manage more than smoke."

"If I may." Iroh interrupted. "When your daughter was teaching my nephew waterbending they came across a common problem among Avatars, a difficult grasping the opposing element. Katara made the claim that if she was in his place, she would be much more adept at firebending then he was at water."

"My nephew learned of energybending, a way to give or take away bending ability, in his quest to bring Air back into the balance. And you son decided to call her months old bluff."

That...sounded like Sokka. "Avatar Zuko, I don't suppose you could set my daughter back to normal?"

"Certainly sir," Zuko couldn't hide the relief in his voice, but Katara grabbed one of his wrists.

"Oh no, you're not winning that easily." She warned.

"Winning? I'm not even in this argument." Zuko protested.

"I'm not giving up on this till I learn Firebending. Even if the day of Black Sun comes, I��ll be firebending into battle." Katara declared.

"Okay no." Zuko put his foot down. "First of all we are not giving up one of the few waterbending masters in this fight for your ego. Second, there is no firebending on the Day of Black Sun. That's the whole point of the Day of Black Sun."

Katara looked pensive for a moment. "Fine. I accept the second reason. But I'm going back to fire right after."

~~~~

I was a little torn on making Sokka a bender becasue, as was said above, he doesn’t need bending by any stretch of the imagination. But thinking with an in universe perspective, there’s no one else Zuko would pick. He doesn’t have the confidence he’d win a battle of wills if someone tried to turn it on him the way Ozai did Aang, so he had to make sure at the very least the first new airbender was someone he’d trust his soul with. And that is a very short list,

#AtLA #Nursery Rhyme #Avatar!Zuko #Ghost Writing

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megalony · 4 years

Text

A mother’s love

This is a new King! Be Hardy series I am going to be working on which I hope everyone is going to enjoy, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog

Ben Hardy masterlist

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) lost their first baby but now they have a baby boy together, an heir to the throne. But life is far from easy when (Y/n)’s mental health starts to take a bad turn.

Enjoy.

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His pace quickened down the corridor to the point that the heels of his shoes were clicking against the wooden floorboards beneath the carpet from the force he was walking with. His feet were like the stampede of wild horses running free and his eyes were lens focusing on their target right in front of him to the left.

The moment his broad frame burst through the doorway to the most familiar room in the palace to him, his chest leaned backwards and his foot froze in mid-air when an object flew his way and narrowly hit the wall on his right instead of him.

Ben held his fleeting breath in his lungs as long as he could when he dared to lean his head past the door and look into the room to see if it was who he thought it was that threw something at him. His chest heaved when he allowed himself to breathe again, his eyes focusing on (Y/n) who had tears pouring from her shocked eyes when she realised it was Ben at the door and not who she thought it was. The shock pooling in (Y/n)'s eyes only lasted but a second before it disappeared and became replaced with fleeting anger and her pupils started to burst with pain.

"Get. Them. Out." Each word and syllable was punctuated with a sense of anger and hatred as her eyes soon left Ben's and travelled over to look at the other doorway leading into their room.

It didn't take much for Ben to put the pieces together and understand exactly what she was talking about. As soon as the words left her mouth he was nodding furiously before he passed through the doorway and over to the other doors on his right. The way he swung the door open made it seem like he was demanding for his presence to be known and just like that, all heads and eyes turned in his direction.

He moved so he was just over the threshold so he could close the door behind him but he was unwilling to step any further into the adjoining room he classed as an office that was full of all the people he did not want to be here. All of the people who somehow presumed they were supposed or allowed to be here like it was their right when they already knew how both Ben and (Y/n) felt about this. (Y/n)'s earlier words and her screaming was enough to let them know they were not wanted here.

"Everybody out now." Ben so wished that when he gave an order or an instruction, people wouldn't stare at him like they didn't know who he was or as if they were questioning his authority. They always needed more confirmation and an explanation that was hardly ever necessary but everyone who worked for him seemed to lose their intelligence when they were questioned or told to do something they did not want to do.

He allowed his eyes to rake through the small crowd that was mostly men rather than women and he saw blank expressions staring back at him with confusion and disbelief in their eyes that made Ben snarl.

"Are you all deaf? You need to leave, you're not needed here." Ben motioned his hands in front of him, trying to usher them out like they were a flock of sheep he was herding into place. But no one moved, they simply widened their eyes and allowed their shock to come onto their features.

Not many of them had had the privilege to see the King be so sarcastic in his movements and if they stuck around for much longer, they would see just how rude and ruthless he could be when provoked.

"But, your Majesty, her highness is in labour-"

"Yes, and if no one here is a doctor or midwife then I have no need for you to be here, do I?" Ben's foot began to tap against the floor out of anger and growing agitation. Why was no one complying with him, why did they all feel the need to argue with him when this wasn't their choice? Ben knew what he and (Y/n) wanted and they did not want a crowd of people hanging around in the next room waiting to know if it was a boy or a girl and if everything had gone smoothly or not.

If a royal couple didn't go to the hospital for labour then it was a very old and intruding tradition that members of the council and the highest authority of the palace would wait close by for any news. They were waiting so that when the baby was born they would know what the gender was and how everything had gone but it was too intruding and personal. (Y/n) hated the thought of people being able to hear her screams of agony, listening in to what the doctor was saying as they waited impatiently for it to finish.

What made it worse was that (Y/n) knew both her parents and Ben's mother would be in the next room waiting on any news if (Y/n) didn't let them in the delivery room and she couldn't bear to look at any of them right now. They cared more about the fact that the baby might be a boy than if (Y/n) was okay or in pain. Everyone was counting on this baby being a boy so they would have a boy heir to the throne and it made (Y/n) sick that they cared more about the gender than anything else.

"It is tradition-"

"Fuck tradition, I let you do this last time and I am not making that mistake again. If no one gets out of this fucking room in three seconds I'll have you removed from the palace, are we clear?"

When they all sighed and began to pile out of the room, Ben sighed in utter relief and followed them to make sure they weren't going to loiter around in the corridor. He stood leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a face like thunder that told them all to carry on walking until they were out of his long line of sight.

The first time he and (Y/n) had been in this position it had been hectic and full of madness. He barely had the memory correct and in order in his head, it was jumbled up like knotted string and Ben hadn't told everyone to leave the adjoining room because he'd been too focused on knowing something was going wrong. He'd never regretted anything more than he regretted not throwing this tradition out of the window the first time around.

He was never likely to forget the way everyone packed near the door to try and catch a glimpse of the havoc taking place in the next room and Ben wasn't going to forget the murmurs and looks he witnessed when the doctor told everyone it was a stillborn baby boy. It was as if their interest was shattered and they turned their backs in disinterest but they didn't leave the next room until Ben let his rage loose on them.

Ben wasn't having any one, not a member of the council, not a member of the family or a person of staff hang around any door or corner waiting on news. He wanted everyone shut out of this wing of the palace and only the doctor here. No prying eyes or ears trying to get the news, no one whispering about how it would definitely be a boy or how it shouldn't turn out like it had last time. Ben wanted privacy and control because they didn't get to have that before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He sounded so unhappy.

The moment he wriggled free in the doctor's hands he let out a sharp sound that cut through (Y/n) right to her core. His petrifying screams made it seem like he had been the one to sit through nine hours of pain from being torn apart from the inside out. He sounded like he had bared all the hardships when he was only ten seconds old. His life hadn't really started yet but he sounded so angry to be given such a precious life.

His chubby cheeks were burnt red and splattered with dots of blood and fluid, his brows were furrowed and his eyes were clamped shut. The way he wriggled made (Y/n)'s heart flutter, the sight of seeing her baby actually move instead of lay limp in someone else's arms made her elated. But the screams that tore from his bright red lips made her shrink back in what she could only guess was repulsion.

(Y/n) thought that when this baby was born she would be sobbing out of either joy or heartache, depending on which way it went. She thought that if their baby was okay she would be fighting the doctor to take them into her arms and hold them with her heart jumping out of her chest. (Y/n) thought it would feel so much better than this, she had heard so many women telling her how having a baby made them feel and (Y/n) was so desperate to have that feeling that she missed out on three years ago.

No one said she would feel closer to the emotions she felt last time than something different she was expecting. No one said she would feel this way.

Even though (Y/n) could feel happiness at knowing their baby was here kicking and screaming, it was dulled down almost completely by the overwhelming terror and the sinking feeling in her heart. Why was he screaming like the world was burning around him? Why did he sound like he was in so much pain when it was (Y/n) who was physically breaking both inside and out? Why was he a boy like everyone was expecting?

Now people would be congratulating on (Y/n) for doing it right the second time around and having a boy that was actually okay and alive. They wouldn't ask how she was or if she was happy, sad or confused. They would pat her on the back and say well done before moving to see the heir to the throne who was a boy, just like everyone had been betting.

(Y/n) had been expected and pushed to have a boy and she had delivered, this was all anyone wanted and expected from her and her job was seemingly done now. She had no other purpose in life that anyone could see.

"Is he alright?" Ben rubbed at his sore eyes with the base of his hand, ridding his vision of his tears so he could see his baby boy and the doctor properly. His cries were like music to Ben's ears, but they sounded a bit excessive and they were worrying when they didn't die down even the slightest.

But no sooner had Ben asked that question, his head snapped to look down at (Y/n) tucked into his side when she started to sob. He could tell instantly that her cries were not ones of happiness or overwhelming relief or love, they were heart-wrenching cries that mimicked the ones Ben still remembered hearing when they found out their first boy wasn't alive. It was as if (Y/n) had slipped back into that memory and couldn't break herself free.

Ben wrapped his arms tighter around (Y/n)'s frame before pressing his lips to her hair, cocooning her to his chest like he was trying to tuck her into his heart. He was surprised by how tightly she held onto his arms and dug her nails into his skin but he said nothing.

Among all the panic and confusion that had taken place during their first labour, it was clear that the first time had been smoother for (Y/n) than this labour. She hadn't felt as much physical pain the first time around, she didn't haemorrhage like she was losing all the blood in her body and the doctor didn't have to intervene nearly as much as he did this time. It wasn't smooth sailing and it was clearly crippling her.

"He's suffered a broken collar bone, but don't be alarmed. Babies bones heal much faster than adults and I'll give him something to take away the pain."

The doctor's words did nothing to soothe the raging storm inside of (Y/n) in fact his words only seemed to make it worse. Their baby had a broken bone and he wasn't even an hour old, there was no wonder he was crying as badly as he was. But it wasn't the pain their son was in that made (Y/n) tremble.

Who was going to listen to or believe (Y/n)'s pain when they knew the prince had a broken collar bone?

No one was going to understand or bother to listen to (Y/n)'s pain when they found out the prince was injured. This was going to be her fault too, she'd be blamed for his injury because she had given birth to him and she'd failed with her first baby too. This baby was going to be fussed over and cared for and treated like he was made of glass, but (Y/n) was going to be seen as disposable. She'd done her duty, no one had any use for her now, not even as a mother when her own parents were telling her that her child should be brought up by a nanny just like she had been.

They had stripped her worth away from her the moment they knew she was pregnant. Her job in the world was now fulfilled and they had already decided to steal her role as a mother away from her because they didn't want her to be one. She was the carrier, not the carer. She brought the prince into the world but it was expected for someone else to look after him and be a mother to him for reasons unknown to (Y/n).

"Would you like to hold him, your highness?" The doctor's words sent chills running through (Y/n)'s bloodstream and she dared not open her eyes to look at him. She could already sense the tender smile on his face and the pride and hope in his voice that she wanted nothing more than to crush to pieces.

"No." (Y/n) repeated the word again and again to herself like she was a record stuck on repeat. Each time she whispered the word, it was spoken with more fury and pain and vengeance than before until she was almost screaming.

Her nails released from Ben's skin and her hands coiled back to her until she could smother her face with her palms. But it didn't stop the horrendous scream from leaving her parted lips and it didn't hide the tears that were streaming from her eyes like she was crying a river. Her whole body started to tremble as another scream ripped against her throat and her knees pulled up to her stomach despite the agonising pain it caused.

(Y/n) wanted to go back.

She wanted to reverse time and rebound to part of her past where it was easier, where she first got married to Ben and everything was alright. Where no one was pestering her about having a child or smothering her when she didn't do her job and lost her baby. Where no one then wrapped her in cotton wool when she got pregnant again. (Y/n) wanted to feel like herself, she didn't want to feel like she was both a mother and a deliverer or precious cargo that was to be stolen from her.

(Y/n) couldn't hear Ben's panicked voice desperately trying to calm her down, nor could she feel his arms that were so tightly wrapped around her that he should have been leaving imprints on her skin. It was as if she was screaming but no sound was filling her ears and she was struggling but she felt like she was motionless. She was having some kind of out of body experience but her eyes were so tightly closed that she couldn't even see the experience from a different angle or point of view.

She was just drifting.

"She's causing herself to haemorrhage, I'm going to give her a sedative."

"Is that really necessary?" Ben's authority wavered from his voice when he felt (Y/n) struggling worse in his grip and her screams heightened at the doctor's words. Ben didn't want to put (Y/n) to sleep like they were just dosing her up to keep her quiet, she was in pain and she needed help and comfort. But the more Ben tried to calm her down and soothe her pain, the more he realised he was having very little effect on her.

If she continued to struggle she would suffer a haemorrhage that was almost as bad as her previous one and losing more blood wasn't going to help.

Ben watched the doctor get a small clear bottle and a needle from his bag and fill it with the required amount before setting it down so he could help lay (Y/n) down in a better position.

"Baby, baby sshh... please, it's okay it's alright I promise." Ben whispered his pleas against (Y/n)'s temple where he pressed repeated kisses against her skin whilst he moved so he could lay (Y/n) down on her back in the middle of the bed instead of having her leaning on him. But his voice started to shake and his breaths increased when (Y/n) screamed at him like he was trying to hurt her, he wasn't doing this to upset her he really wasn't.

Ben hovered over (Y/n) to try and stop her from moving and hurting herself but she writhed against him. When he leaned closer she struggled worse and the moment he tried to grab her wrist she jerked her hand out, unintentionally slapping him across the face and catching his jaw with the point of her ring. His head snapped to the side and his jaw clicked from the action causing his eyes to snap shut for a few seconds.

He pulled back so he wasn't leaning on (Y/n) before he took both her wrists in one hand and held her hands to his chest, holding her tight enough to stop her from pulling free but loose enough not to hurt her or leave marks. With his other hand he brushed her astray hair behind her ear an the gentle action seemed to stun her for a moment. But when (Y/n) faltered and didn't move for a few seconds, she started to writhe and a scream left her lips when she felt a needle pressing into her upper thigh.

"You're gonna be fine, baby, I promise."

Somehow, (Y/n) didn't believe his words and when she felt her mind quickly starting to shut down and her body stopped struggling, she wondered if it would be better if she didn't wake up.

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #imagine #BoRhap #royalty #dad! ben #a mothers love

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petroltogo · 4 years

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For Meg, whose request gave me the kick I needed to write Hanas POV on Tsuna from the [this could’ve been] a villain’s origin story ‘verse and for @hopeswriting who asked for a continuation of the first part:

They’re close to finishing their training, less than a week away from getting their field license, when Mochida finally loses his patience with Sawada after the dumbass manages to down his own team member through friendly fire. [With paintballs, sure. But it won’t always be paintballs.]

Hana watches from the sidelines as Mochida screams himself hoarse and Sawada flinches and shrinks and stutters and cries.

[It used to make Hana uncomfortable, watching Sawada cry. A bit like watching Ito Hina talk down to Sasawaga when he asked her out during their last year of high school because using only words with four syllables and more obviously means you are way more intelligent, congratulations, everyone would tremble in awe before your amazing intellect if only they had a fucking clue what you’re talking about. But, well. Hana has spent the past four months crawling through muddy field after muddy field, training until her arms and legs gave up on her and she barely made it home, chopped off her hair one day when she got so damn frustrated by the twigs that kept getting stuck in it and she’s seen Sawada cry every other day.

Looking back she doesn’t even know at which point the tears stopped bothering her. Hana must have become desensitized to the sight — like everyone else on the squad, probably. Hell, at this point Hana doesn’t even feel second-hand embarrassment or discomfort. She feels nothing at all. She’s tired and they’ve failed this exercise six times already and she wants to go home. Hana doesn’t have the energy or emotional capacity to feel sympathy for Sawada.

She just wants him gone.]

[continues under the cut]

Really, the only surprise is that it took this long. [That Mochida still has enough self-control to keep from getting physical about it. Hana isn’t sure everyone else on the squad would have the same control.] In the end, Mochida throws his arms up in the air, gives Sawada one last, disgusted look, whirls around on his heels and stalks off. Sawada remains exactly where he was when Mochida first started to shout like his feet have been frozen to the floor, shoulders slumped, one arm wrapped around his chest as though he wants to hug himself but is determined to resist — except that there’s nothing determined about Sawada.

It makes for a pathetic picture. A pathetic picture that Hana is so utterly done seeing.

[She could respect Sawada’s tenacity, maybe, if it came across as such. If Sawada wanted to be here, was desperate to be here, unwilling to give it up. But Sawada doesn’t come across as someone whose dreamed his whole life of joining a Vongola Inc. attack squad, doesn’t come across as someone who has any goals at all. So why doesn’t he apply for a job that might make him happy instead of one that will get him killed?]

It’s none of Hana’s business what her squad’s members do with their lives. What choices have brought them here. All of them made it through the preliminaries — though how Sawada managed that feat is a mystery — so Hana doesn’t get to tell any of them whether or not they belong. Except that Sawada clearly doesn’t belong. And Hana is tired of being pulled down by his suffering.

But through his entire tirade, Mochida hasn’t once said the one thing that truly matters, the one thing that might get through to Sawada. As always, the dirty job falls to Hana because no one else will get it done.

[Kyoko needs the flawless facade more than Hana needs clean hands.]

So she steps up and she looks straight into Sawada’s watery brown eyes because she owes him that much and she tells him what everyone’s thinking and no one has the guts to say out loud: "You need to drop out, Sawada." It’s not an insult or an accusation, it’s a fact. "Even if by some miracle you make it through the final test round, in a real fight you’ll be a liability at best and get one of us killed for real at worst. Do you understand that?"

[It’s not really Hana’s concern. Once they get field-ready, Hana will stick it out with her squad for two more months, let them find a routine, share some experience in the field before she’ll request a transfer to the legal department.

But. Hana has spent the last four months with these people and for all that she doesn’t particularly like Sawada, is growing more tired of his pitiful attitude every day, she doesn’t want him dead.

She doesn’t want to see what becoming a killer would to do to him.]

Sawada flinches like he does every time someone addresses him in a sharp tone of voice. Lowers his head. Shakes, though that might be from his half-breakdown when Mochida lost his shit. The point is: None of that is an agreement. And Hana wants that agreement. Needs it. She needs Sawada to understand. And failing that she needs him to tell her why she’s wrong. Needs to see that there’s something in Sawada that believes, something that’s driving him, something that keeps him here.

[Something other than stagnation and fear of the unknown.]

One of their trainers interrupts them and Sawada takes that chance to slip out of the room without giving Hana anything but another wide-eyed look with trembling lips.

[It makes her feel something that might have been uncomfortable if Hana had the energy to process it. She doesn’t though, and that might be for the best. Because Sawada is something soft and vulnerable trapped in a deadly world he can’t seem to figure out how to escape and when he looks at her with fear, Hana thinks this must be what it feels like to be a monster. She thinks she could hate Sawada for that.]

The next morning, Sawada shows up for training fifteen minutes late but he does show up. Hana kicks a hole through a wall.

Somehow this becomes darker the more I write. Whoops.

#ReRe writes #this could've been a villain's origin story 'verse #Kurokawa Hana #Sawada Tsunayoshi #tw: bullying #Hana is not a nice person but she's not a bad person either #Tsuna trips up every single one of her internal alarms #Outside POV #outtake #Hana is concerned #and rightfully so #she may not go about it the right way #does anyone wonder who adivsed Tsuna on his career #because he really isn't suited for it #fic #and nope that's not fishy at all #or clammy #i think the word in this context is clammy lol

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melodious-madrigals · 4 years

Text

wake me up (before you go-go)

Day 4 of Wondertrev Loveweek.

Fandom: Wonder Woman Pairing: Diana/Steve Prompt: Return Word Count: 4095 Rating: T Summary: On a sticky day in June, Diana decides that it’s time to return to Themyscira. It produces some mixed emotions and insecurities.

Read it on [AO3] or below the cut.

***

It's a sticky day in June when Diana says, "I think it is time to return to Themyscira. I have put it off too long."

Even though the War technically ended in November, there has been no shortage of work and missions, of places for Diana to help right the wrongs that Ares—and Man—had done. Still, a visit is long overdue, if only to put her mother's mind at ease. She's been gone seven whole months.

"I—yeah. I can arrange transport for you whenever you want." Steve's sitting at the kitchen table opposite where she's standing, newspaper and juice in hand, doing his very best to conceal his surprise and swallow down the dread that's suddenly thickening in his throat. He's not ready to lose her. (He doesn't think he'll ever be, but seven months is nowhere near enough time.)

"Us," says Diana absently, apparently unbothered by the oppressive heat as she fiddles with the kettle for her morning tea, which she always drinks far hotter than Steve can stand. "If you can spare a week, anyways."

He can absolutely spare a week, but that doesn't actually seem like the biggest issue, here. "Am I, uh, allowed?"

"Yes, of course," says Diana, adding a touch of honey—which she far prefers to the overly sweet granulated sugar the British are so fond of—to the tea. "You are with me."

"It's just—" He scrapes his hand across the nape of his neck, winces. "I can think of a few reasons I wouldn't be." The fact that he's a man is probably the least egregious thing on Hippolyta's list.

"Anyone who doesn't like it can take it up with me." She pauses, looks at him seriously. "You do not have to come, you know. I would like it, but if you are uncomfortable…"

He's going, of course. It was a lost cause as soon as she asked him. He'd follow her to the ends of the earth and back, and that includes Themyscira.

"When do we leave?"

Diana's ensuing smile might just make it all worth it.

Steve enjoys the boat trip to Themyscira more than he has any right to. It's the first time they've had substantial, uninterrupted time together since—well, since the boat trip from Themyscira. And they're on considerably closer terms, now.

There's no mission to steal their attention away, no urgent telegrams calling one or both of them to another country, no well meaning friends crashing what was meant to be a romantic dinner. (Sameer swears up and down that he didn't realize that Steve meant he was making a specifically-him-and-Diana-dinner, but Steve saw him discreetly swapping money with Charlie afterwards and laughing, the traitors.) It's just the two of them, talking and laughing and—on one particularly memorable occasion—diving off the side of the boat for a lazy, mid-afternoon swim.

At night, they lay side by side, so close that the Steve from seven months ago would be heartily scandalized, and play a game where Steve points out constellations, and Diana recounts the myth behind each one that she was taught as a child. They fall asleep shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh, heads leaned together and fingers laced.

They catch good winds and make quick time, and though Diana thinks they go in circles a bit before finding the veil that separates Themyscira from the mortal world, they do break through eventually.

Indeed, they must be spotted almost immediately by an Amazon scout, because by the time they arrive at the dock, there's a welcome party waiting for them, consisting of a dozen Amazons and led by Menalippe.

The Amazons unanimously abandon decorum and embrace Diana in turn, and Menalippe tells Diana that the Queen waits to receive her in the palace.

What should be a victorious homecoming and happy moment is dampened when it becomes apparent that the party only boasts one extra horse, despite the fact that they were both on deck the whole time. Whether it is her mother's doing, or Menalippe's, the meaning is clear.

"No matter," says Diana icily. "Steve can ride with me. Klytemnestra is more than capable." The black mare chooses that moment to snort, seemingly in agreement.

"Princess—"

But Diana has already swung up onto the horse, and reached down to boost Steve up behind her. As soon as he's in place, she urges the mare forward, galloping off along familiar trails towards the palace.

Diana dismounts in the courtyard while the horse is still moving, and strides into the palace throne room, where Hippolyta stands, cutting an imposing figure with an entourage of Senators flanking her.

"Mother," Diana greets, inclining her head.

"My child."

It's at that moment that Steve shows up, sending a murmur through the Senators.

"Steven Trevor," says Hippolyta distastefully.

"Your Majesty."

Diana redirects the attention back to herself by saying, "We come with the news that Ares has been vanquished. I have fulfilled the foreordiance of the Amazons and killed him."

More whispers erupt among the Court.

"Congratulations, my daughter. You have done us a great service, and are a credit to the Amazons."

"I have done as I was taught by you and our great fallen sister, General Antiope." She holds her mother's gaze. Hippolyta blinks first.

"A celebration, then, is in order," declares Hippolyta. "To fête a mighty warrior, and give our thanks that Ares has been defeated at last."

At this edict, a dozen Amazons spring into action.

"Eumelia, Maia, in the meantime, please show our… guest to the Sage Rooms. I would have a private audience with my daughter."

Diana's eyes narrow. The palace is not spectacularly large—there's no reason for it to be much bigger than a regular residence with a couple of halls for High Council meetings, but the rooms she's suggesting are as far from Diana's traditional set as is spacially possible.

Diana squeezes Steve's hand. "I will be along shortly," she whispers.

Steve nods, and allows himself to be led away.

As soon as they are alone, Hippolyta rounds on Diana. "What are you still doing with him?"

"He is a good man, Mother."

"There is no such thing, Diana!" Hippolyta exclaims.

"The world is not so black and white," Diana refutes. "And even if what you say is true, he wants to be a good man. He is trying to be, every day, with all of his choices. Does that count for nothing?"

Hippolyta scoffs. "Oh, I'm sure that he claims to be, but what is a man's word worth?"

"He sacrificed himself, Mother!" Diana snaps, choking on the words, unable to separate the fact itself from the memory and the emotions that it causes to well within her. "He was willing to die to save thousands, maybe millions. I watched his aeroplane explode, and I could do nothing to save him."

Hippolyta's brow furrows, and Diana answers her unasked question.

"One of the gods saved him. Apparently they are not all quite so dead as your stories implied."

"A god would," says Hippolyta derisively. "It reeks of Zeus, as if a man is ever a reward—"

"I love him—"

"You barely know him!"

"I know him well enough! I love him and I'm not willing to argue with you about this any further."

Pivoting from Steve himself—possibly because she knows a losing battle when she sees it—Hippolyta says instead, "I still think they do not deserve you, Diana."

"Probably not," Diana agrees, to her mother's clear shock. "But it is not about what they deserve. It is about what I believe, and I believe in love, and humanity."

Hippolyta pauses, then half-nods, a resigned air about her. "I suppose that is rather insightful."

Diana smiles at her triumphantly. "That is something Steve told me. He is more than you think, Mother."

"Hmm," says Hippolyta scornfully, but she makes no further protest, and Diana knows that she's won for the moment.

Diana finds Steve fiddling with an hourglass in his rooms, far later than she'd meant to be. Her conversation with her mother was wide-ranging.

"You survived the day."

He looks up, relief clear on his face.

"Yeah, uh. An Amazon named Maia took pity on me?"

Maia is a talented archer, and she was on the beach that day. She would've seen Steve fight with the Amazons, would have reason to not distrust him outright.

"Then perhaps your day was more enjoyable than mine."

Steve winces. "Your mother?"

"Displeased with me," Diana says lightly. "But I am working on it."

"She's mad at you because of me, isn't she."

"A little, yes," says Diana in that blunt manner of hers, unwilling to sugar-coat it or lie. "But she disapproves of many of my choices."

That much is true: the list of things her mother disapproves of includes Steve, her decision to stay in the World of Man after Ares was defeated, her desire to return, her critique that her mother should have told her about Zeus, about being the Godkiller, and more.

She sighs and starts to pace, now visibly agitated. "I just do not understand why she continues to be so stubborn about you!"

"In her defense," says Steve cautiously, "men do not have the greatest track record. It's probably not personal. I hope."

"But it is personal!" Diana cries. "I am not asking any of them to go to Man's World, or to bring a group of unknown men here. I am simply asking that they treat one single man who I trust implicitly without hostility."

It finally clicks for Steve: she's angry because she feels they're discounting her judgement just as much as they're discounting him. Even after all she's done, all she's endured, they're signaling to her that her trust, her judgement, isn't enough.

"Shit. I'm sorry. Maybe I should leave?"

"No," says Diana fiercely. "This is their problem, not yours."

Personally, Steve feels that they've kind of made it his problem, but he's not about to do something to make her question whether he distrusts her judgement too.

"Maybe a quick nap before the feast tonight?" he suggests. "It's been a long day."

"I am not tired," she snaps, and then reconsiders it, softens a little. "But if you are offering to hold me—?"

Steve ducks his head to conceal his grin. "Yeah, I am."

She nods once, and without hesitation strips down to her linen tunic, lays down. Steve joins her, and she buries her head into the junction between his neck and chest, breathes deep as he wraps his arm around her.

"It is unfair how much better this makes me feel," she grumbles.

"Trade secret," teases Steve, before he presses a kiss to the top of her head. She sighs and nuzzles closer, and they both end up drifting off for a bit.

The Amazons, it must be said, certainly know how to throw a party. The bonfire roars in the background, the food is superb, and the music is rollicking, lively, frenetic. The joy in the air is infectious: Ares is defeated and their Princess has returned a conquering hero.

A woman he recognizes as Mala, Diana's best friend, pulls her up and they start dancing, something related to a reel or a jig, fast paced with intricate footwork. In no time, a number of other Amazons join in, all laughing and cheering and spinning wildly.

Steve watches as Diana gets twirled 'round and 'round in time to the lively music, switching partners regularly and laughing in delight. At one point, he loses sight of her, and the next moment, she pops up next to him.

"This is dancing," she says, slightly breathless and eyes alight with excitement. "Will you join me?"

He's about to make an idiot out of himself, but he'll do it gladly for her. Steve takes her hand and allows her to pull him up. She walks him through the steps, and then they pick up the pace. The footwork itself is a little much for him, but once he picks up the general rhythm, they're able to twirl around almost as fast as she had been before. As he gets more comfortable, they start trading partners as is customary, and he dances with Maia, and then Mala—who he suspects is being kind for Diana's sake—and then an Amazon named Apollonia that he vaguely recognizes as the healer who treated him the first time he was here, before ending up back in Diana's arms.

Diana grins, delighted, and then leans in to whisper, "This is nice, but I will admit that there is something to be said for swaying."

He wears a matching grin, after that.

Steve is an early riser, but he's got nothing on Diana. The other side of the bed has long since turned cold by the time he wakes, the sun over the horizon but still low in the sky. Just past dawn, but he suspects Diana woke to go join the other Amazons in their training.

He dresses quickly and pads his way down the trail towards where she pointed out the training grounds last night. He has the city to himself; all the training warriors are long-arrived at the field, and everyone else is still abed. He hears the sounds of sparring before he sees them, and then finds himself on a balcony overlooking the field. He thinks, maybe, it's the one she told him she took a flying leap from as a little girl.

Below, the women are through with their conditioning exercises and have moved on to actual sparring. Steve catches sight of Diana almost instantly, her figure familiar to him even at a distance, her dark hair done back in an elaborate Amazonian braid.

Even if he wasn't so attuned to her, couldn't pick her out of a crowd in a second flat, it would be easy to spot her: she's in the middle of a dozen other Amazons, wielding a massive broadsword and fighting all of them at once.

They come at her in waves, and she takes them down with a practiced sort of ease, one or two at a time. It's truly awe-inspiring, watching her like this, among almost-equals. She looks so natural here, dressed in the same tunic and breastplate as the other Amazons, the sun glinting off her shield.

It's because she belongs, he realizes. Belongs in a way that she never has in his world, even though she's carved a niche for herself.

He's thrown from his reverie by a mighty clang as she catches two different blows with her blade at once and throws them off. Off to his left, there's a glint that catches his eye, and he turns in time to see an archer release an arrow meant for Diana. But even as she parries another blow, turned away from the incoming arrow, she jumps, vaulting herself into the air and twisting over the path of the arrow entirely.

Even Steve, who regularly sees what Diana can do, feels his jaw drop. He stands there entranced at least another hour, watching as Diana takes on Amazon after Amazon—with a sword and later hand-to-hand—and makes it look easy.

When the session ends with her pinning the last opponent and then gamely pulling her up and into a warm hug, Steve makes his way back towards the palace.

She finds him some time later, reading on the balcony. She's dripping sea water, and is wearing the widest grin, skin glowing in the golden island light.

"We went cliff diving," she says, breathless. "I came back to see if you wanted to join in for a second round!"

Steve is no stranger to daredevil activities—he was a pilot, after all—but there are no words to convey how much he does not want to go cliff diving. He doesn't mind heights and doesn't mind swimming, but the nexus of the two leads directly down the path of being overcome by memories of crashing his plane into the sea.

Diana seems to draw this same conclusion by the stricken look on his face as he's trying to figure out how to say it aloud. "Steve, I'm sorry. I did not think. Maybe we could go swimming in the cove instead?"

"What about the cliff diving? I want you to have fun."

"Spending time with you is fun," she says guilelessly, like she's confused he could consider it anything else.

Steve slips a bookmark into his page. "Lead on."

She takes him down a rocky path he's never been on, and leads him down to a sheltered cove where the waves are almost non-existent and the water is a clear, vibrant blue.

Diana dives in, Steve not far behind, and they splash around like giddy children for a spell.

"Float with me," Diana says eventually, and tips back in the water until she's floating buoyant on her back, eyes closed and soaking in the sun and breeze.

Steve does the same, and, like her body is tuned in to exactly where his rests, she extends a hand and laces their fingers together. He closes his eyes and they float—silently, peacefully, together—in the crystal waters until an Amazon named Phoibe comes to inform Diana that she's late for lunch with the Queen. Diana squeezes his hand, gives him a smile and a kiss, and dashes off to meet Hippolyta, leaving him to head back up at his leisure.

They pass the rest of the week in much the same way: in the pre-dawn morning, Diana slips out of bed to train with the Amazons, and then her friends drag her from one activity to another.

One afternoon, she convinces Steve to take a hike to a temple on the Northern side of the island, but ten minutes in, three other Amazons—including Mala—crash their trip. Fortunately, Maia is also part of the group, the closest thing Steve has to an Amazon friend outside of Diana. It's still an enjoyable afternoon, it's just not quite the one either of them thought they'd be having.

In the evenings, they usually dine with a group of Amazons including Hippolyta. Post-dinner is devoted to storytelling, once with a bonfire on the beach, but usually at the residences of Diana's friends.

And Diana is incandescent. Steve has never seen her so relaxed, has never seen her looking so free. The weight of the world has lifted from her shoulders, and she looks younger. Her laughs are just a little quicker to arrive, and a great deal louder in volume. He adores seeing it, and it simultaneously scares him. He's greedy; he wants more time, but he doubts more with each day that he'll get it.

The day before they're set to leave, Diana barely sees Steve at all. She's done her best not to leave him all alone—after all, she did ask him to come with—but sometimes her friends get carried away, and this afternoon is one of those times. They spend the entire afternoon on the beach, practicing horsewomanship and some of the more daring tricks. She allows herself to get swept up in it because it's been months since she's ridden a horse trained for this type of thing, and it gives her a thrill. Diana has so idea how long it'll be before she gets the chance to do this again.

She greets Steve at dinner sweaty and grinning, and feels butterflies in her stomach when his smile softens upon seeing her, when some of the tension reflexively leaves his body. She relaxes too, knowing he's all right.

When she and Steve get back to their rooms that evening, there's a desperation in his kiss that Diana chalks up to having a tough day. It's sweet, even, the way he kisses her like he's mapping her, memorizing every inch.

"I love you," he says later, as they're drowsing, when she feels so sated and heavy with sleepiness that she might sink straight into the mattress. "I hope you know that I love you."

She tries to respond, but she's dragged under by a dreamless sleep before she gets the chance.

The next morning is a flurry of activity, as Diana gets dragged out even earlier than normal by Mala and Steve packs the few things they've brought.

They barely see each other all morning, and they're accompanied down to the dock by several of her friends, who chatter on excitedly, anxious to make the most of every bit of time they can.

Waiting for them at the dock is the Queen and her riding party.

"Diana." Hippolyta's face betrays nothing, and her tone is just as even.

Diana pauses in front of her mother, gestures at Steve to continue. Time might be repeating itself, if not for the fact that it is early afternoon and Ares has already been neutralized.

"There will always be a place for you here." Hippolyta does not ask her to stay; she already knows what Diana's answer would be.

"Maybe someday I will return for good," says Diana. "But for now, there is still work to do. It does not mean I love you any less, Mother." She looks at her imploringly, the closest she will get to begging her mother's understanding.

"Be safe, my child."

Diana allows herself to break this time, and throws her arms around her mother for a tight embrace that she couldn't have indulged last time.

Then she strides down the dock and boards the boat, leaving Steve, who was unmooring the lines, to clamber in after her. It takes very little to get them under way—a stiff, agreeable breeze aiding them—and Themyscira grows smaller, until the moment they pass through the barrier, and the whole thing vanishes like a dream. There was enough to do in terms of manning the riggings that their journey up to that point has been mostly silent, but once Themyscira disappears, Diana breaks the silence.

"You thought I was going to stay." It's not a question.

"I did," Steve admits, swallowing. He'd done his best not to show it, but as usual, Diana can read him better than anyone. He couldn't help the look of surprise when she got on the boat, or the tension that left his shoulders when Themyscira vanished.

"But you were not going to ask me to return with you," Diana says slowly, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"No, I wouldn't do that. Themyscira is your home."

"And yet you came." She sounds utterly confused.

Steve laughs, soft and wry. "Diana," he says helplessly, "I'm only human. I wanted every second I could get, and I wanted to be able to say goodbye. A real one."

Her eyes soften in understanding. "Oh, my love. This is not how we are destined to say goodbye."

Steve swallows thickly; she sounds so sure.

"I just don't want you to be unhappy."

Across from him, Diana frowns. "What makes you think I am not happy?"

"It's just, on Themyscira, you looked so natural, so relaxed."

Diana cannot help but laugh. "My love, it was because I knew I did not have to stay. I love my sisters dearly, but my role on Themyscira is too static, and comes with the expectation of forever being the same person. The visit was all the sweeter for its fleetingness."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. Do you really think I would not express my dissatisfaction, were I to feel it?"

Well, shit. He somehow overlooked that bit, despite the fact that Diana has never been shy about sharing how she feels, and now he feels ridiculous.

He scrubs a hand over his face. "No. I don't know. Forget I said anything."

"No, Steve, this is important. Sometimes we get too close to our own problems to see them clearly." She presses a hand to his cheek, and looks him straight in the eye. "This is me telling you: I am happy with you. And if something is wrong, I will tell you. I promise you this. I hope you will do the same."

A deal is a promise, and a promise is unbreakable, echos in his mind, and he smiles at the memory. He can't imagine ever not finding happiness with her, but says, "Of course," and means it.

"I love you, Steve Trevor."

A peacefulness that he hasn't felt in weeks settles over him, and it stays with him the entire return trip to London.

Their time is only just beginning.

***

#wondertrevweek2020 #wondertrev #Wonder Woman #diana prince #steve trevor #themyscira #fix-it fic #diana x steve #steve x diana #wondertrev fanfiction #lenci writes

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beginagainbugle · 4 years

Photo

In this issue of The Daily Bugle …

Page 3: Our Editor-In-Chief, J. Jonah Jameson recently suffered a stress-induced cardiac event. As heart disease is the number one cause of death in the United States, we thought we would take this opportunity to educate our readers on how to protect their cardiac health! Lifestyle changes, including good nutrition, quitting smoking, and regular exercise are only the beginning. Read more on page 3 about how to reduce stress, limit alcohol, and manage weight in order to live a heart-healthy life!

Page 6: June is traditionally the most popular month to marry, and that remains true even to this day! The tradition is rooted in Greek and Celtic cultures. The Gerco-Roman goddess Juno, for whom the month is named, is the patron of matrimony and childbearing. In the Celtic Calendar, the Day of Beltane (May 1st) is the day when young couples would pair off to court for three months. Their weddings would’ve been on Lammas Day, August 1st, but impatient and love-struck youths shortened the waiting time to mid-June, and the tradition has stuck! The beautiful color palettes and fantastic summer wedding are sure to make for a memorable and joyous wedding. Congratulations to all the couples who have been married so far in this beautiful month! Read more about the history of June weddings, and other matrimony traditions on page 6!

Headline: After a short rest in which I recovered from my health issues, I have returned to speak on the recent events that have shaken our city to it’s core. But JJJ, you might be saying -- Don’t you hate the Spider-Man? Isn’t this what you’ve been asking for all this time? No, dear readers. The unwilling unmasking, the pervasive violation of privacy this young man suffered, is not what I wanted.

I have deliberately chosen to use an artist’s rendition of Spider-Man for this Bugle’s front page. I do not condone those who have shared the photos of his face on social media, and I have ordered all my staff to dispose of any such pictures sent to our publication. I have been a staunch defender of the Accords and Registration. I believe that every citizen has a right to feel safe in their homes, and the right to know who is protecting us. But I have always hoped for the process to be voluntary. To rip someone’s mask away, particularly a young man only on the cusp of adulthood, is despicable. We as a city have failed Spider-Man in sharing those photos, and the Bugle will not be party to that.

I have been critical of Spider-Man, and indeed, all heroes who choose to remain above accountability. I believe a real hero faces their mistakes and takes responsibility when they have harmed the citizens they claim to protect. I question those who think the rules do not apply to them, and I question them harshly in order to exact answers. I stand by what I have written in response to the Accords. I believe our heroes should not be allowed to act without impunity, but I believe this about all who serve the common good. Law enforcement, the justice system, emergency responders -- all must abide by common ethics and accountability. Enhanced individuals carry a far greater burden because their abilities can carry far greater consequences.

But it is time to take responsibility for the mistakes I have made. My own ward, Mattie Franklin, was a vigilante. She was far too young to be involved in matters like this, but she bravely gave her life to stand for her ideals. It is Mattie’s death that has made me wary of allowing young people to idolize superheroes to the point of imitation. Unquestioned hero-worship, even of actual heroes, is a recipe for tragedy. I know this intimately.

Spider-Man too, as we know now, was also very young when he became a superhero. Perhaps he felt he had no choice. And that is a consequence of living in a world where superheroism is a secret, elite club. Until recent years, no one has questioned who should take on the mantle of heroism, powered or not. There has been no infrastructure, no training offered to young people who find themselves with intense abilities. And where there is leadership, in the case of the Avengers, the Justice League, and the mutant Institute, there is no oversight questioning the morals of those who look at gifted children and encourage them to risk their lives fighting dangerous battles.

Do we blame young people for having stars in their eyes when they look at the likes of Iron Man, Professor X, or Batman? I do not. But do I question the ethics of grown men and women who allow young people to fight by their side when facing world-ending events? Of course I do. Anyone who has ever been a parent, who has ever loved and cared for a child and dreamed of watching them grow into their potential, would do the same. Perhaps these older superheroes care for their younger counterparts. I do not deny that. I merely question the way they have shown it.

Contrary to what some might believe, I do not want an end to superheroes. That is a genie that cannot be put back into the bottle. But after decades of ruined cities, civilian casualties, loss of business, property, and children’s lives -- losses after which superheroes returned home without accountability -- it is not unfair to ask for change.

This, however, was not the change I wanted. Nor the change I would expect from any reasonable person. Would I have acted differently, if I had known Spider-Man was just a teenager when he began his career? No. I have long suspected that he was young and impressionable. Why then, were my headlines so harsh? It was an attempt, perhaps misguided, to reach this young man. To impress on upon the consequences of playing with fire. To make him realize that there are lives at stake, including his own. Spider-Man has a family who cares for him. That he signed the Accords and chose to remain anonymous is proof of that.

He may call us sensational, and he is welcome to take issue with how we have reported about the Accords and superheroes. None of us is infallible, nor should we expect anyone to be. But he cannot claim we, or at least I, have never considered who may be under that mask. It is a question that has haunted me for years, and not because I wanted to ‘get’ Spider-Man. I wanted to save him, before he caused tragedy or became a tragedy himself.

Nevertheless, his words are powerful, and we will be sharing them with you now. We ask all of you to read them carefully, and to remember who this young man is, and all he has done for us. We encourage anyone who has shared his revealing photos to take them down and dispose of them. This young man has protected our city. He has protected us and our loved ones. Now we will protect him and his loved ones. Good luck, Spider-Man.

-- J Jonah Jameson, Editor-in-Chief.

#beginagainbugle #beginagainfrontpage #char: peter parker #topic: accords

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ieyasukenshinsandwich · 5 years

Text

A Turn of the Hourglass

I had a sudden thought about an Ikevamp Reset Theory AU after rereading the prologue and realizing just how much some of it sounded...rehearsed...especially the scene when Le Comte runs into the MC at the Louvre. A few written down thoughts turned into a fanfiction.

Warnings? None. Spoilers? Very minor ones from the Prologue and the Saved Stories option under Memories for the released suitors. Notes? 1. A * marked before a dialogue means that it is taken directly from the Prologue. 2. The last section of this fanfic will make a lot more sense if you are familiar with the last part of the Prologue -- it reads a bit awkwardly otherwise.

Under the cut because it is 3,775 words.

A Turn of the Hourglass

The room was, to most, eerily silent. He found that worked well for him. When he delivered a lecture, he purposely waited until the silence entered into their minds. The weakest lasted several minutes, Jean had lasted nearly an hour, but the subtle waiting quiet of the room wore down their sanity until they broke and asked -- each in their own unique ways that he found endlessly fascinating -- for him to start his lecture. Perhaps it was a brief reminder of the void of death they had each experienced that unnerved them. Whatever the case, it was always a test of their sanity. It certainly was a constant test for him. Le Comte, unlike his residents, knew what created that subtle waiting silence. He could actually hear the constant shluff of falling sand from the various hourglasses that lined his room. The noise that put the residents on edge as they subconsciously waited for the next grain to drop. A sound that Leonardo despised.

Despite being one of his oldest friends, Le Comte doubted that the Inventor knew why he kept so many hourglasses. He had never asked so he had never told. Leonardo scorned keeping such meticulous track of time -- often cursing their own immortal march -- and he broke or creatively reimagined every timepiece he had put in his messy room. Sometimes he would find them just outside his door. A clear warning that he nearly always ignored. Le Comte imagined that he would not be impressed -- perhaps, he thought with a sardonic grin tugging at his lips, even disappointed -- if he discovered the reason. The grin turned into a lopsided smile as he quickly poured himself a drink. He tipped the glass back, chasing away the bitterness he could feel swelling his soul with the bite of alcohol, and heaved a quiet sigh as he continued to watch her hourglass.

Soon after she had moved into his mansion, he had dubbed this delicate, gold-lined hourglass hers in a haze of affection. The sands, as compared to the others dotting his room, were a faint pink color. The same color as the suite she stayed in. If Sebastian had noticed he had her placed the Lady’s quarters, parallel to the suite that was his by right even if he hadn’t used it in years, he hadn’t said a word. Or raised an eyebrow. Le Comte wondered if he was that excellent of a butler, Sebastian had definitely proved himself numerous times, or just ignorant of the suite’s importance. Maybe it had been before his time. Perhaps he should have relocated to the Master suite once again -- to stake a claim and make his own intentions crystal clear even to the least observant of his residents. But he hadn’t, and he was here watching her pink sands be slowly dyed a dusty blue.

The same dusty blue as the sands in the sturdy oak hourglass currently frozen in time inside a locked cabinet. The one he had labelled the first night after Arthur had accepted his proposal to become a vampire. One that he had actually pulled out of its cabinet to examine twice this past month to confirm the color of the sands: dusty blue. It wasn’t an ugly color, he actually quite liked it, but it wasn’t the color he wanted. He tapped the bottom of the hourglass, eyes glowing gold, and watched the final grain change from pink to blue. It was done. He managed to turn to the largest hourglass, the one that marked his ability to travel through the door into time, before a very proper knock interrupted the sound of sand. Sebastian. The door opened, someone stepping into the room without waiting for his welcoming answer. Leonardo.

“Monsieur Le Comte, Sakiko wishes to stay in the mansion for a bit longer and would like to ask for your permission to do so.” Excitement primly tucked away.

“She’s tied herself to the flirt you turned, but after everything that has happened...I can’t begrudge her choice.” Affection carefully concealed under exasperation.

He let their emotions wash over his own -- swift currents of positive thoughts shoving his own negative ones into corners and hopefully out of sight. He turned with a gentle smile already in place. Sebastian’s brow furrowed as Leonardo’s raised in an unspoken question. It seemed that the current had not tucked them away as neatly as he hoped. With a sweep of his hand, the faintly glowing -- and frankly distracting -- oversized hourglass was hidden from their sight. With a tiny bow, the bitterness the alcohol had only barely controlled was swallowed. These two were observant enough to see through his lies in this emotional state, so his words would need a seed of truth.

“I already knew.” Teasing came easy to his tongue, but not to his eyes. The teasing lilt did its job as the inquisitive looks faded to bemusement and actual exasperation. Sebastian returned the little bow, smiling with more happiness than Le Comte thought was necessary, as Leonardo carelessly dragged a cirgarillo from his breast pocket. With a flick of his wrist, he grabbed his friend’s still unlit cirgarillo and placed it far enough away on the table that it could not be reached. Not without moving him aside anyway. He relished the annoyance that flickered before sweeping out of the room.

“We should congratulate them, non?” The two followed without a word -- Sebastian closing the door with a click that he thought sounded a bit too final.

~~~

It had been over a month and the large hourglass was once again nearly full. It was nearly time. Le Comte had watched Arthur and Sakiko be happy, unwilling to do anything to cast a shadow of unease over them, and played the perfect indulgent host. The only shadow he had cast was over the hourglass Sakiko had inadvertently claimed her first night in the mansion. Every night, before falling into uneasy sleep, he would watch the sands swirl and remember when they had been pink instead of blue. It only took two nights of this for him to remember that hourglasses can be reset. It took four to recall that it was more than a theory, although it took six for him to realize that he knew it wasn’t a theory because it had worked before. The month was halfway over when he remembered that he had done it before.

Pieces of the puzzle trickled in as he continued to watch over the hourglass. The residents’s hourglasses were locked away, rewound and then frozen in time, and could not be changed. Hers was not frozen and flipping hers erased the timeline. It had little impact on the other hourglasses -- the grains of pink that represented her simply faded into their respective colors one by one until she was gone. They were still vampires, they would still meet her -- they just wouldn’t remember. A clean slate. A third chance...or was it a fourth? He wished that he could remember, but the very second she accepted a place in the mansion his own sands lost her color like the others. A way to make it fair, he supposed, as fair as it could be. His power would reawaken his memory once he touched her dyed hourglass. A failsafe. A curse. His gaze returned to the oversized hourglass as the final sands fell into place. It was time.

“Your body, your heart, and your destiny...” Le Comte whirled the hourglass around its suspended chain several times before letting it come to a stop, staring with grim satisfaction as the sands poured unnaturally quickly into the opposite chamber. He watched as the color steadily changed to an impressionable, but boring white. A pause. The roar of the sands echoed in his ears, seemingly taunting him for his decision, as some unknown magic took hold of the sand. It changed back to pink, your color, with agonizing slowness. Once it finished, he etched a heart on the glass with a single finger. The sand briefly turned to spun gold, glowing like the power he could still feel sparking his veins and lighting his eyes, and held the heart shape. A traced image of glittering gold that seemed to pulse in time with his own. He hated watching it fade -- hopefully it would not fade again. He finished his plea on a reverent whisper.

“Please, ma chérie, give them to me.”

~~~

Night had fallen much later than he had been expecting. His sense of time had always been a bit disorientated, but being pulled from death’s loving embrace only to be thrust right back into the empty embrace of existence had nearly destroyed it. Or should he say neatly destroyed it? All it had taken was a single bite -- a very neat and clean one. The thought caused him to stop short of the window, but it only held his attention for a brief moment. He had a banquet to attend and a fellow author to tease if only to see the usually well-spoken man stutter. Sakiko had really peeled away all of his layers to reveal a man as easy to fluster as his dear apple. His cheeks didn’t flush nearly as pretty as a color, but it was still worth it. He was actually happy -- he was sure it reached his eyes occasionally -- that she had ignored his warning that day in the garden. With a soft grunt, he lifted the window and prepared to clamber inside. Sakiko was staring at him in bemusement again. He lifted his hand in greeting.

*”Well, well, would you look at that? I’m a little late, aren’t I? ...In we go.” A quick glance had told him that the usual suspects were all there, though he found it a bit odd that Arthur and Sakiko weren’t sitting intimately close together like usual. Lost in that thought, his sleeve caught on the rough edge of the windowsill. Lovely. Dazai purposefully pulled at the sleeve in a way that wouldn’t actually help, knowing that with each passing second Sebastian’s eyes would twitch with increasing annoyance. A rip was well worth that -- even if he was forced at needlepoint to fix it himself. Issac said something. He hadn’t heard it exactly, but he could guess.

*”And keep everyone waiting? No, no, the window was much faster.” It was a familiar argument and his response was the same every time. Maybe Issac should be creative and come at the argument from a different angle. Maybe he should try using the window. The smile on his face was unaffected by the glares he received from most of the table. It remained as he easily unhooked the tiny thread from the edge that was keeping him prisoner -- if only it had actually been that easy in life. Sakiko was still eyeing him, so he gave his first greeting to her, uncaring of the affection that colored his tone and words. She looked uncomfortable as she responded, so he attempted to put her at ease with a neutral statement about dinner. Normally she would agree with him -- she loved Sebas-kun’s cooking with a fervor that always made him chuckle -- but her eyes slid away. What had Arthur done? He was seconds from asking when the master of the house spoke.

*”You arrived just in time. We were all introducing ourselves to our guest.” The tone was cool and tempered, but Dazai knew a warning when he heard one. He looked up and down the table for someone new, head still firmly facing Sakiko so she would know that he would be talking with her next. He would find out what had happened. A sense of unease crawled up his spine as his search proved futile. There was no one new here. He faced Le Comte.

*”You’d like me to introduce myself?” He couldn’t stop his surprise from coloring his tone. He hoped his question would be answered. Le Comte was just as good at dodging inquiries as he was. The unease doubled as Issac coughed in the general direction of Sakiko. She stared at him as if he were a stranger. A stranger. Ah. He’s done this before. He felt apathy settle on his shoulders like a mantle, the familiar weight threatening to drag him down, but a part of his brain knew that this girl would rip it off like she had done before: it was just a matter of time. Issac coughed again, louder this time, and he knew that if he waited any longer Le Comte would become suspicious. That wouldn’t do. He wondered what her name was this time: not Sakiko, not Hana, not Fusao, not Chiyo...it would take him a while to remember when someone finally bothered to tell him, but he would remember it. Dazai was good with names.

~~~

Night had fallen much more quickly than he had expected. This had soured his mood, but he knew that lateness would not be permitted or excused. The carriage trip to the mansion had always seemed so long, but the script sitting next to him on the empty seats raised his spirits to be almost giddy. When was the last time he had been in such elation of spirit? A bump in the road disoriented his thoughts, but it was his glance to his fallen script that dispelled his mood. With a reluctant eye, he scanned the first few pages as the carriage pulled just past the gate. The words were turning color from feathered black ink to gold: a gold that he had seen numerous times before. His expression was hard as the coachman finally got around to opening his door. He knew entering the mansion was useless -- a fool’s errand -- but he would dutifully play his part. Setting the papers aside, he watched as the words on the top page slithered off to form tiny piles of golden dust. All that time -- erased. He went halfway to the door of the mansion, knowing that he was hidden from view, and counted to a reasonable passage of time before turning around.

*”I’ve decided not to stay.” Shakespeare didn’t need to bother hiding the tiny amount of bitterness in his voice -- it was as believable as the first time he had said it so many times ago. The coachman seemed surprised, but as if it were rehearsed, only perfunctorily questioned him. Perhaps it was rehearsed. He gave him an answer as he always did.

*”Capricious Fate has invited a guest of fairer mien than mine to take my chair.” Capricious as the dust that blew away when the carriage door was opened. He watched it go, settling himself on the seats, as he forced his voice to convey resentment instead of the desperation that wanted to be heard: *“Hers is center stage tonight, though I shan’t stay to see how she performs.” He couldn’t stay. One glance at her would reveal himself. He had yet another part to practice upon this stage. He knew his lines.

*”O, what upturned expectations have come at the arrival of this...new player?” Still not perfect -- Shakespeare had hesitated. That would surely reveal him. A thoughtful hum interrupted his internal thoughts. His eyes widened in surprise -- he had thought he was speaking to himself, as he had every other cursed rehearsal, but the coachman was still standing with his hand on the carriage door. The man scratched at his chin, eyeing Shakespeare’s formally casual wear and discarded script, before turning around to stare at the opulent mansion. The coachman’s expression was sympathetic and kind as he turned back around.

“There will be another chance, monsieur,” He laughed, giving the script and the stunned playwright a wink, before finishing in an overblown theatrical voice: “‘all that glitters is not gold.’” He gave the mansion one more disgusted look before gently closing the carriage door. A few short minutes later the carriage lurched forward. Shakespeare shook off his shock -- and bemusement, the man had quoted his own words to him. Was he to play his part once again? Was he to find which part she was to play? She had already played a forlorn and frozen violet’s precious maiden, an immortal inventor’s mortal beloved, and most recently the adored red, red rose of one who slept among many petals. She had even kissed the sleeping emperor and turned him into a man.

A divot in the road caused the coach to rattle unsteadily, sending the formerly finished script into further disarray. A tiny hint of an unbalanced smile caressed his lips as he watched his own name fade from black to gold to dust. A woman of many names, many parts -- no wonder she haunted him from that first glance so many times ago. No matter, he can play his parts once again.

~~~

The room was, to most, eerily silent. He found that worked well for him. However, the quiet was going to be broken by his own requests to Sebastian and the soft crackling of the fire hidden within its grate. Subtle mind games were not necessary as he knew it would only be a few seconds before you spoke. He also didn’t want attention drawn to the numerous hourglasses dotting his walls anyway just in case you should ask about them this time. Not that you would. If he remembered correctly, you would reject his offer of tea and immediately ask him your impossible question -- how would you get back -- even when the real question burning your tongue and crying from your eyes was a question of “when” you would get back. It was much too early to tell the truth. He would be a gentleman and soften his omission by answering the question you voiced out loud. Dinner ended and Le Comte brought you to his suite. It all happened exactly as he remembered. He sipped his tea as you seemingly processed all of the information, doubt and suspicion etched on your face, preparing for your second impossible question.

*”And who are you, Comte, that you have collected some of history’s greatest figures to live here in your mansion?” The tone was just as accusatory as he remembered, but the guilt that squirmed in his stomach at the tone was more recent. One or two turns of the hourglass ago perhaps. He shifted his eyes away to glance to the side, unable to make eye contact even though he knew just how dubious it made him look, and gave his usual deflection. You seemed unimpressed and tried to wiggle your way out of staying in the mansion. That wouldn’t be allowed to happen. A few strong armed suggestions painted in the softest manner he could achieve, an assurance that you weren’t imposing -- guilt climbed upwards to poke at his heart -- and a civil conversation about the residents you had yet to meet culminated in his old friend’s sudden appearance.

“Are you the one, cara mia, that was taking so long?” Leonardo’s words were different from last time, although the general idea was the same. He had the feeling that someone else in the mansion retained some memories, but he also knew the feeling to be a manifestation of his own paranoia. He knew you were erased from memory -- he had twirled your hourglass himself just that afternoon. Nonetheless, Le Comte watched his friend closely. He shoved down the feeling of jealousy that tried to rear its ugly head when he saw you in his lap, flustered beyond words, and swallowed his snarl when Leonardo tried to undermine his ability to take care of and please her with his warning. She had been happy every other time in his mansion, in his Lady’s suite, and he was always one of the first to discover her missing. He grimaced at these thoughts. Guilt was now a stab so painful that it took all of his self control to not drop down and beg your forgiveness for his actions. Fortunately, or unfortunately as it may more accurately be stated, Sebastian was already leading you away to your room. He didn’t dare follow.

That night, he fell into an uneasy sleep. He was almost glad for his upcoming loss of memory just so he could occasionally rest at night again -- not that he really needed it. Sleep was an indulgence most of the time. Your hourglass was glowing faintly on the shelf. The pink light coming from the pink sands, as of yet undyed by any hand, seemed to call to him. That was all the convincing he needed to gently bring the hourglass down from the shelf, cradling it in his palm as he climbed onto his bed. He had just settled himself when the hourglass suddenly began to burn. In shock, he dropped it and barely managed to keep it from tumbling to the ground. Le Comte took the still burning hourglass and placed it near him on the pillow. You must be unsettled. He started to breathe in slow, methodical breaths in an effort to calm even if you couldn’t feel it. He gently patted the top of the delicate, gold-lined hourglass with affection.

The pinks sands flashed blood red, causing his own blood to run chill with apprehension and fangs to peep out in anticipation. He tapped down the longing filling his soul -- she was still distressed and he owed her his attempts at comfort -- and etched a soothing, swirling pattern on the glass. He welcomed the burning sensation as a punishment for his turn of the hourglass. A sin that he would gladly take upon himself, again and again, as long as it meant he could have another if she chose another. Gold dust followed his fingers as he stirred the sands from the outside. A frantic pulse seemed to fight the additional color, but the pink eventually intermingled with gold. Once the two were fully mixed, the sands slowed to lethargic pace. It was a beautiful sight. One that he wanted.

*“I want it all. Your body, your heart...and your destiny.” The sands pulsed once more, removing his golden dust from the pink in one fell swoop. He placed the hourglass on his bedside table and turned to face the wall. He also owed you some privacy. He would be seeing you tomorrow anyways. He would have another chance. With a small smile, Le Comte drifted off to sleep with dreams of a delicate, gold-lined hourglass filled with pink and gold sand and your arms affectionately wrapped around him in a hug. He would happy with just that, although he yearned for more and maybe this time...you will give them to him.

~~~

Tagging: @edgarbright I hope you don’t mind, but it was a theory and Le Comte-centric. @impracticaldemon I wrote something~! :D

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khhunniewriting · 5 years

Text

The Others (2)

[ Mafia/Gang AU ]

Thirteen years later many things have changed.

“Seems Illionaire is making much more money now.” Kylie put down the report she found on Dok2′s desk as she waited for him. In her arms, she held a small bundle of pink and white.

Dok2 dismissed the men who had followed him into the room with a nod. “I wasn’t expecting you here.”

His wife had just given birth a few days ago. It was definitely too early for her to be out and about but Kylie wanted to make a point.

“Don’t make that face Joonkyung.” She knew he was scrutinizing her for bringing a bastard child to the office. Everyone was aware this second child, the daughter in her arms, was not his. “They might not know you also had an affair, but I do.”

Dok2 was aware of his wife having met you.

She told him only a few days after giving birth to their child, a son Kylie named Ji-hoon. Having a son ensured she had produced the heir to her husband’s fortune. There was no need to worry anymore.

Once her son was old enough he would take over for Dok2 ensuring her future.

“Honestly, you should have seen how shocked she was when she found out you were Illionaire’s leader.”

Dok2 made his way around her and sat at his desk ignoring her rant. Perhaps it was hypocritical of him to treat his wife this way when he too cheated on her. The fact remained that she went too far by breeding a child from her affairs and expecting him to welcome it with open arms into his family.

“Do not bother me unless you want to discuss something about Ji-hoon.”

Kylie smirked triumphantly knowing she had gotten under his skin. That was all she desired for now.

After she walked out of his office Joonkyung released a frustrated groan. His life was certainly not going the way he planned; making him question all the decisions he made in his youth.

Most of the questions involving you.

His eyes went to a hole in the wall near the door. He hadn’t bothered to fix it the same way he never bothered to do anything about his feelings for you.

Love was the one luxury he couldn’t afford under his circumstances.

“Go Leo!” Your loud cheering received some stares but you could care less. It was too exciting to see your baby boy out there on the court scoring so many points. He was the power forward for his school’s basketball team and well on his way to becoming the ace player.

Leo turned towards the sound of your voice and smiled knowing you were there to see him. His smile disappeared the moment he turned back to the court and positioned himself under the basket once more.

“Your mom is as loud as always Leo,” one of his teammates commented. “Must be scary when you get bad grades or get into trouble.”

“He never has bad grades,” another tuned into the conversation as a timeout was called by the opposing team. The three teenage boys retired to the benches where their towels and waterbottles awaited them.

“What, so he’s athletic and smart?” The initial starter of the conversation asked. He was on the school team but did not have the same class as Leo to know how he was off the court.

Leo spaced out leaving the two to talk amongst themselves as his only worry became rehydrating. The boy always heard people saying the same things about him.

Leo is so smart.

Leo is so athletic.

Leo is so handsome.

Leo is so responsible.

Leo is so blunt.

Leo is so silent.

Their compliments were appreciated but unnecessary. All he really cared about was making sure his mother continued to smile. The truth was Leo had emotional detachment and abandonment issues.

Neither he nor his mother believed it to be so but the doctors who found his silence unbecoming amounted it to something he had no recollection of. They thought his lack of a father affected his social skills.

The truth was Leo had many friends, he socialized well. He was, however, selective about who he socialized with. It was similar to the way his mother acted.

She may never have told him to be wary of strangers but he was. He saw the way she cautiously put herself between him and a stranger before knowing who and what their intentions were.

“Leo come on.”

He broke out of his thoughts and pushed his dark hair out of his face before returning back to the court where the rest of the team awaited him.

After the game, he quickly and meticulously gathered his stuff before making his way over to you. Many people congratulated him on the win which he only responded to with a curt nod or single word of thanks.

“There’s my MVP,” you wasted no time to hug him. There were a million comments you had on how well he had played.

When he came to you asking permission to enter the team you knew nothing of the sport. But like everything involving your son, you became invested and soon were able to talk to him about strategies and stats.

“I noticed you struggled a bit when you fought for the rebound with that tall kid. Did you get hurt?” You began examining him for any bruising. “Sometimes the ref doesn’t see but-”

“I’m fine,” Leo assured.

A simple two worded response that brought the smile back to your face. One of the best sounds in the word was that of your son’s voice. It brought relief and happiness to your overprotective heart.

“Then let’s go celebrate your win!”

The corners of Leo’s lips curved into a smile seeing how happy you were. The truth was he did have minor aches and pains when he went against that other player.

He was someone he had clashed with before. The center of the rival team who on occasion gave Leo dirty looks. Neither had spoken a word yet there was a silent rivalry between them that no one else had noticed.

For a couple week now you two were being watched from afar.

“Boss that kid and his mother live in a pretty normal neighborhood.”

Jay Park, AOMG’s leader, looked through the compiled information on his desk. His eyes narrowing in on your photograph. It was a recent one that his men had taken of you at your place of employment.

You were a decently private individual with little to no social media presence that had only been in use for the past five years. It was nearly impossible for him to find the information he was looking for.

“I just feel like I’ve seen her before.”

Simon’s brow rose in question, “With Dok2?”

Jay nodded only barely recalling the time more than a decade ago when he spotted you holding onto his rival’s arm as you entered a private parking structure. Back then your long hair obstructed the view of your face but your mannerisms were the same. Most of all, he remembered your eyes as they looked over at him.

At the time he thought you had met his eyes but perhaps it was just a coincidental glance in his general direction.

“Why don’t we just go after his actual son, the one everyone knows about,” Woogie proposed.

“Because he’s the obvious choice.” Jay dropped your photo picking up Leo’s instead. “This kid could be his illegitimate child.”

Simon looked over his boss’ shoulder, “You think he looks like him?”

Everyone began debating and voting on the appearance of the mysterious child. Some were undecided taking into consideration how they had yet to really get a good look of the Illionaire boss. Others straight up denied the possibility for various reasons.

“It doesn’t matter if he looks like him,” Jay interrupted their discussion. “The birth certificate is missing a name. I’m sure it was intended to protect the kid but the family name says it all.”

Gray dug through the file pulling out the copy of Leo’s birth certificate. It was clear as day to them who have been investigating the whole situation. There in black and white was your name and an empty space where Joonkyung’s should be. “The kid’s legal name is Lee Leo, we need to keep looking into this.”

They all agreed to continue following you around, convinced they would eventually get the lead they needed to act.

“Besides, “ Jay pulled them back into the conversation. “He does look like he could be the other kid’s brother.”

“How old is Ji-hoon,” Gray asked.

“Thirteen,” Woodie responded.

“Do you really think he got his side chick pregnant at the same time as his wife?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out.”

Ji-hoon watched in disgust as his mother doted on his younger sister. Not once had she even directed a word at him since she arrived. He kept telling himself this wasn’t jealousy, rather it was envy.

He was envious of his sister having everything he had been wanting. The time and attention of his parents were hard to come by when they were often occupied by business. Now he had to compete against a helpless newborn.

“You’re back,” Kylie commented as her son made his presence known. She watched him give a disinterested glance in their direction as he walked by to get to the stairs. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Do you care or you just upset again because Dad ignored you so you’re going to take it out on me?”

Kylie gaped at her son’s response. This wasn’t the first time he had talked to her in this manner. She had become accustomed to his increasingly hostile attitude. What surprised her was the fact that he knew she had seen him.

“How did you-”

“I called and asked for a ride,” he interrupted.

Ji-hoon was an expert at running away from his bodyguards. They had to maintain a distance so normal people didn’t see them but they were always around. To the untrained eye, they were like shadows, to Ji-hoon they were unwilling participants in his game of hide-and-seek.

The young boy knew his father would drop everything to make sure he was safe so he often repeated the act when he felt like seeing him. Often calling him to pick him up from wherever he decided to chill.

“Ji-hoon you know that’s not safe!”

Kylie’s reprimand stirred her daughter’s sleep. In an instant, she began wailing asking for comfort.

“Look what you did…” she picked her up from the bassinet she had situated in the living area to begin rocking her back to sleep.

“Sure what I did,” Ji-hoon heaved a sigh of annoyance. Once again he was being falsely accused of being his mother’s inconvenience. “I got lectured by Dad already so I’m gonna go to my room.”

“Ji-Hoon…”

“Ji-Hoon!”

Kylie shook her head knowing he wouldn’t come back down no matter how many times she called for him.

“There there, Jia… go back to sleep.”

-end-

A/N: On the mood board Leo is at the bottom-right corner and Ji-hoon at the top-right. BTW I’m basing ages and school grade on the American system, meaning highschool age is 14-18 years and the grades are 9th-12th.

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