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sohotthateveryonedied · 3 years

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Dad...I’m Bilingual

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Dick hums—a quiet, sleepy sound. He’s drifting, but only slightly. The painkillers are doing their job. “It’s dumb,” he says. “I can beat up bad guys an’ stop an apocalypse, but I can’t even tell my own dad I’m bilingual.”

Bruce just stares at him. Realization kicks in a moment later. “Do you mean bisexual?”

“Yeah, bionical.” He said that, didn’t he? Bruce must be getting slow in his old age.

When he wakes up, the first thing that Dick’s sluggish mind can latch onto is how tingly his tongue feels. His taste buds buzz like someone poured a can of Pepsi into his mouth while he was sleeping, bubbles tickling the path down. Or maybe pop rocks. Or tiny little bumblebees, their legs scritching and scratching the surface they tread. The tingling spreads outward, Dick notices as he careens toward the wakeful part of wakefulness. Mouth to neck to torso to fingers to the cement block that he is pretty sure used to be his right leg. Soda and pop rocks and bees, the whole way. A quiet, questioning groan slips through Dick’s heavy lips. He cracks his eyes open and squints, blinking against the unforgiving brightness of the room he’s in. “Mm. Bruce?” A nearby chair squeaks. “Dick? Are you awake?” Bruce’s voice is uncomfortably close, booming in the short space between them. Dick grimaces. “C’n you...back up? Your breath smells like meatloaf.” He opens his eyes fully and is greeted by Bruce’s lined face, bags sagging under his eyes. They’re in a hospital room, white walls and white sheets.

Bruce’s meatloaf breath huffs once in amusement, then retreats. “I’ll take that to mean you’re back up, then.” In his lap is a magazine laid open to a page that’s all squiggles and bumbled lines. It matches the rest of the room. Dick’s head swims.

The numbness has receded mostly now that Dick is back online, but his stubborn cement leg takes longer to reboot. “Feels like I died. Then came back to life. Then died again.” His mind churns slush and soup. “You did just get out of surgery,” Bruce tells him. “Leslie said you’ll be woozy for a few hours.” Dick frowns. “I can’t feel my leg.” He has to parse his words carefully, his mouth working slowly like his muscles have melted into molasses. “I should hope not. You just had your knee put back together.” That part sounds...somewhat familiar? Dick has mismatched memories of surfing a stop sign across Clayface’s back, then sirens so loud and so close they split his head in half. He remembers Leslie yelling into one ear while the other listened to Bruce and Steph arguing about a video she uploaded to the Batman Incorporated Twitter account. That was completely irresponsible, Bruce said, out of his Batman suit and in one of the backup outfits he has stored in Leslie’s office for nights like that one. You’re lucky he only broke his knee. That stunt earned the Bat brand fifty Twitter followers, Steph snarked back. I need a goddamn vacation, Leslie said. “Tim left to crash a jet ski in the harbor,” Bruce continues, though Dick doesn’t remember asking, “so your alibi is taken care of. Jason and Cass went to track down the pudding cart, and Alfred took Damian home to sleep.” The half-drawn curtains make it hard to decide if that’s a sunrise or a sunset he’s seeing. Either way, it speaks to long hours of sitting and waiting and hoping. “I think…” Dick licks his dry lips. “I think they cut my leg off?” It feels like it. Did Leslie take his leg away as punishment for being dumb? Is the hospital hiding it from him? Bruce snorts. “Then what is that?” He gestures to Dick’s leg, the entire thing encased in weighty layers of gauze and plaster. “An imposter,” Dick says. Duh. “They gave me fake metal parts like Vic.” Dick slumps against the pitifully flat pillow behind his head. “My brain feels fuzzy. Did they take stuff out of my head?” That would explain the foggy memories and the way all of his words swim away from him like he’s been plunged underwater. Underwater hospital. Now there’s an idea. “You’re on painkillers,” Bruce says plainly, licking his thumb and turning the page of his magazine. “Heavy ones, it looks like.” Dick can’t remember if painkillers are supposed to feel like bumblebees buzzing around inside his thoughts. Maybe they’re made of honey. “Y’know, last time I woke up all confused in a hospital room, a bullet stole secrets from my head.” Bruce looks pained. “I assure you that all of your secrets are intact this time around.” Dick hums. “You should...take the painkillers out.” “Why is that?” “‘Cause I don’t wanna spill stuff.” Bruce frowns. He doesn’t say anything for so long that Dick wonders if he spoke in Portuguese by mistake. Bruce places his magazine on the plastic chair beside him. “Well, I can’t take out the IV because you’ll be in pain, but I promise you that the room is safe. Tim checked for bugs.” Why a bug would be in the human hospital, Dick doesn’t know. He shakes his head. The front pieces of his hair fall into his eyes, but his arms are too tired to fix it. “That doesn’t work, ‘cause then...then you’ll know. And that’s bad.” “This isn’t about your secret identity, is it?” Another head shake. “I might acci-mentally tell you ‘bout how I spilled tapioca on the Batmobile’s seats.” Bruce’s eyes widen. “That was you?” “Yeah, but don’t tell Bruce, ‘kay? You gotta promise.” Bruce rubs his temples like he’s sleepy. “I spent ten minutes yelling at Jason for that. I made him clean the seats.” “Yeah, ‘cause you’re an asshole.” Dick huffs, blowing at his pesky bangs until Bruce rolls his eyes and pushes them back for him. “Thank you.” “I appreciate you telling me about the tapioca. We’ll talk more about that when you’re sober.” Dick makes a face. “The whole point’s that I can’t tell you about the tapioca. It’s a secret. I’ve got too many of those—a whole big fuckin’ army of secrets. And it’s too many. No fun when you can’t share ‘em.” “What about Nightwing?” Bruce asks. “‘S different. You already know that one. I can share it.” “But you can’t share the other ones,” Bruce finishes. Dick snaps his fingers. “Zactly.” Bruce studies Dick—his bundled-up leg and the clear bag hanging on the hook beside his bed, pumping drugs into his bloodstream. “I should let you rest.” He starts to get up, the action somehow guilty despite there being no inherent guilt in vacating a chair. Bruce can pour guilt into anything if he tries hard enough. “You wanna know the worst part?” Dick continues on like Bruce hadn’t spoken, words spilling freely over compromised lips. “I could tell you. I could. But I’m a scaredy cat, so I can’t.” Reluctantly, Bruce sits back down. “I don’t know about that. I think you’re very brave.” “I’m not. If I was, I’d be able to tell you, because I know you’ll still love me no matter what I am, and I’m still scared. And that’s what scaredy cats do. They run away.” When Bruce’s face wears that expression, that gentle turn of his mouth and that pang in his eyes, Dick is stricken by memories of being nine years old. He’d go out every night in the Robin suit, wearing it like a suit of armor and trusting that nothing could hurt him. Bruce would be there by his side, protecting his Robin from harm at all costs. His soul wrapped around Dick’s like a second layer of armor, and it was then that Dick started to wonder if it was possible to have two fathers. “There’s nothing wrong with being scared sometimes,” Bruce tells him now. “There is if you’re a superhero.” “Even then. Sharing a secret can be a scary thing, even when you know it’s safe. That’s why they stay secret for so long.” If Dick didn’t know any better, he’d think that Bruce already knew what Dick desperately wanted and didn’t want to say. But not even Batman can read minds. Dick hums—a quiet, sleepy sound. He’s drifting, but only slightly. The painkillers are doing their job. “It’s dumb,” he says. “I can beat up bad guys an’ stop an apocalypse, but I can’t even tell my own dad I’m bilingual.” Bruce just stares at him. Realization kicks in a moment later. “Do you mean bisexual?” “Yeah, bionical.” He said that, didn’t he? Bruce must be getting slow in his old age. Bruce leans back in his chair with an odd, bemused expression. It’s not an angry one—more like when he’s cracked a case and lets the truth soak in. What case he’s cracked, Dick doesn’t know. Puzzlement morphs into something soft. “Okay. You’re bisexual. That’s not so bad.” “Yeah. But it would change stuff if you knew.” “Not exactly,” Bruce says. “You’re still you, Dick. Nothing’s changed—not really.” “Mm.” Dick’s chest warms. That must be a delayed effect of the painkillers, surely. “Maybe I’ll tell you sometime, then. Later,” he amends. “When my head’s not full of mothballs.” “Sure, son.” Bruce reaches out to ruffle Dick’s hair. “Whenever you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen.”

#HELLO FOLKS HAPPY FATHER'S DAY #i didn't even tend to post this on father's day but y'know what it makes sense #there's never enough good dad bruce content out there #dick grayson #nightwing #robin #batman #bruce wayne #batdad #batfamily #batfam #bisexual dick grayson #bi dick grayson #fanfiction #fanfic #dc comics #pride month #lgbtq #bisexual

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crystal-moon-101 · 3 years

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Managed to do another redesign with rewrite notes, this time my second favourite character in Ben 10, Azmuth The First Thinker. And just like Ben, he's canon self is such a mess that I wish to fix in my own way. The other Galvans in this picture are his family, with his father from the movie "Destroy All Aliens", his nephews mentioned by DJW, and their mother who is Azmuth's twin sister. So let me get into the notes and rewrite ideas of mine!

-Retaliator-

Yes, I am aware that this is most likely not his name, but I could not be bothered to make up my own at this point, and I also find it funny to have a Galvan dad called this, so I'm sticking with it. So Retaliator is the father of both Azmuth and Divi, a very humble and calm old galvan, who has seen a lot through his years, now retired and mostly just trying to keep the family together through small things.

Retaliator has the rare gene of having aqua/turquoise eyes, a recessive trait in galvans, similar to human with the red hair gene.

Retaliator looks younger than he should be, and that's because he is, in a way. You see, right before Azmuth vanished to start working on the watch, Retaliator fell ill to an disease with no known cure, and this caused the family to...kind of break down. A lot had happen up to this point (Things that will be noted throughout this), and none of them wanted things to end like this. So Azmuth did something he know he shouldn't have, as such a thing takes so much time and resource, and generally frowned upon, and ended up creating a new young clone body for his father's brains to be transferred too. By the time Retaliator woke up from surgery, his son was already gone, off in hiding. It this was event that really made Retaliator realize he may not have been the best father for a long time...

While he is retired now, Retaliator use to do work based around energy stuff.

Since he's family's back together, he likes to host game or movie nights, or even little dinners and get togethers.

He adores his grandsons, and loves to share stories from his past to them, and he's one of the few people they calm down around.

He will admit that he did...go a bit wild when he thought Azmuth died, fighting Ben in the Galvanic Mechamorph suit, but him and Ben have since made up, and the old galvan likes talking to the young lad often.

He has most defiantly embarrassed both of his kids by showing off baby photos of them.

He met his wife through work, like most galvans, with her being a much higher up worker. Surprisingly, despite their statuses, it was his wife who asked him out first, having found him very charming.

Retaliator can never thank Ben enough for convincing his son to come home, and despite their bickering, he enjoys seeing Azmuth's bond with Ben, as the two have a way of balancing each other out.

While he may be in a younger body, his mind is certainly still that of an old galvan, and can often act like his body is older than it really is due to the mental age of his brain.

-Azmuth-

Ahhhh, dear old Azmuth, how I love your character concept, and yet get so frustrated with your actual canon self...There is a lot I have changed in terms of his placement and behavior on the show, and while I can't note all of them down there, the major theme behind them is that he is not a complete jerk in them. Don't get me wrong, Azmuth would still have flaws and issues with his off-standing nature, but he would act in a way that feels more natural, showing his growth and change while mentoring Ben. He genuinely wants to help and is a good person, it's just...he still has a lot to work through. In terms of his slight redesign, I'll like to mention that if you look closely, his outfit is a mixture of his first original outside, crossed with his UAF outfit.

I did mention that I couldn't note all changes of him in series plots, since most boil down to be him being nicer and more realistic, but I will note one change because it's big enough to mention. For the Diagon/Forever Knight Arc, Azmuth did not create Ascalon, because I while I get he's smart and created things like the Omnitrix, I don't think he should be such a big source of dangerous artifacts in the series so often, especially ones that cause trouble. So instead, Ascalon was a weapon crafted in Ledgerdomain, to help fight Diagon who orientated there, and at the time had been trying to conquer earth, and Zenith leaving Azmuth happened because of miscommunication and issues between them instead.

That being said, Azmuth does get involved in the Ultimate Alien Diagon arc when Ben himself calls Azmuth over, needing his help knowing he can better understand Ascalon, and eventually entrusted Azmuth and the Galvans to keep it and the trapped Diagon safe.

Azmuth and his sister had a very rebellious phase as teenagers/young adults, this being the age that Azmuth said he was a lot like Ben, though admittedly, Azmuth was slightly more of an ass than Ben ever was. They were going through a tough time, and Azmuth reacted negatively too it all. Funnily enough, the one thing that seems to make him doo a 180 degrees in personality was his massive swooning crush over Zenith.

He won't ever admit out loud, but he does find Ben's trait of nicknaming his aliens kind of funny...

He shares a mentoring role towards Ben with Grandpa Max and Tetrax, with Max handling the more emotional and human side of Ben's problems, Tetrax handling the physical training and teachings, and Azmuth handling the more logical steps and hard truth Ben needs to hear. He's one of the few people to give Ben the smack of reality he needs from time to time.

That being said, Ben is also one of the few people able to handle Azmuth right back, and give him needed talkings to when the man is losing himself to a bad habit.

Mostly due to the fact that Tennysons seem to have a habit of making people very close to them like family, E.g with Ben seeing Kevin and Rook like brother figures at times, there seems to be subtle hints between Azmuth and Ben that there might be parent and child like moments between them, though both would deny it if brought up.

It doesn't help that Azmuth ends up taking it upon himself on making sure Ben is healthy and happy, based on scans from the Omnitrix he reads daily. Of course, he'll just say he doesn't want the boy he entrusted his watch with to die in a stupid way, but people close to either of them know that Azmuth really does care deep down.

He has said both "I'm too old for this" and "I'm too young for this" many times.

Azmuth has admitted that he's nervous around the Omnitrix, and doesn't like putting it on. He's not good at handling the idea of becoming something he's not...

The Malware arc for Azmuth was...a lot more complicated than canon. Azmuth really did try to fix Malware, but for some reason he couldn't, and it scared him that one, this might be the first problem he can't find a solution too, and second, he just came back from hiding and had been wanting to make changes in his life, so to fail and hurt someone already? He didn't know what to think. It didn't help when Malware started refusing his help and ended up endangering the lives of others, including galvans and Azmuth's own family. And despite it all, Azmuth kept trying over and over again to let him help Malware, but the villain always refused, until Azmuth eventually had to accept that he couldn't do anything. When Malware was finally killed, Azmuth went quiet for a good while, and needed time to recover from his mistake.

Due to some past issues, Azmuth mostly refers to his father by his real name, and only calls him dad or father during emotional or quiet moments.

Whenever they're hanging out, Ben likes to bring him and Azmuth cricket smoothies to drink together.

Despite how they seem to bicker often, Myaxx and him play off each other rather well, able to dry wit each other every day.

Azmuth and Albedo's relationship is also very complicated. Before Azmuth returned, Albedo was an outstanding Galvan and protégé, being praised every single day. This, unfortunately, made Albedo develop a prideful nature and his close minded views on the galaxy, as he rarely was ever put down or critiqued. His ego also got a bit of a boost when the great Azmuth took notice of him, and made him his assistant, and while he loved it at first, some issues started to arise when Azmuth wasn't like the other Galvans who praised Albedo to no end. That isn't to say Azmuth never complimented him and liked his work, but he was an honest man who knew no one was perfect, and especially wasn't going to worship someone, knowing what kind of ego that could make in someone. It doesn't help that Albedo just can't understand what Azmuth sees in Ben, and how the two bond, despite Ben's young careless nature, and being human. It ends up making Albedo want a lot more from Azmuth, the man he looks up too, and when he's denied that he eventually turns his back on the First Thinker. Azmuth can only hope that being able to turn into other aliens, and being stuck as human, will teach Albedo that Galvans, including himself, aren't what make the galaxy function.

Azmuth is typically one of the must unfazed people you'll ever meet.

Given most Galvans have an issue of seeing themselves as the top race, Azmuth is kind of fond of Blukic and Driba for being very open and helpful to outsiders, and was even the one to suggest them to join the Plumbers.

Zenith and Azmuth too meet up again eventually, and while they don't get back together, they do make amends.

Azmuth was fairly small for a Galvan for a long time, until he finally hit his growth spurt late into his teen years, something his sister use to tease him over.

Greymatter's DNA mostly comes from Azmuth, meaning Ben actually looks like a Azmuth when he was young, his family having made comments about Ben being his "Clone".

-Divi-

Here we have the twin sister of Azmuth, Divi. A dry wit, no nonsense, sarcastic and feisty single mother of her three chaotic sons. Unlike Azmuth's father and nephews, she was something I had to completely make up from the spot, since Azmuth was said to have nephews, that meant he had to have a sibling, so it was fun to create someone with an interesting dynamic with Azmuth. She is, after all, one of the few people to exhibit some of those petty family squabbles out of him. So I hope you enjoy her and her sons.

As mentioned before, Azmuth and her went through rebellious phases after some downfall in their family life, with Divi jumping around jobs and never settling for one, and even dating another Galvan that neither Azmuth or Retaliator approved off. When Azmuth first left Galvan Prime to go into hiding, Divi and her boyfriend had still been dating. However, when he finally came home, he found the boyfriend to be gone, and Divi now a single mother to three sons. Azmuth never got a clear story what happened to the boyfriend, but he knows that the break up was nasty, and that the boyfriend isn't on Galvan Prime anymore.

Sometime after Divi had her children, she eventually settled for a job in the nursery/incubation centre on Galvan Prime, looking after eggs and newly hatched tadpoles before they go home with their parents.

Divi is quite a blunt and honest woman, who has no time for dragging things on, and while she may sound harsh, she ends up just wanting the best for people. In fact her open nature of speech is how she gets people to listen and see reason.

Her and Azmuth had a...bit of a dysfunctional relationship growing up. Azmuth was actually a slow learning when he was young, and Divi had a habit of picking on him. They did eventually mallow out, until tragedy struck their family and they entered their rebel phases, and the bickering and arguing come from both sides. They have made up since Azmuth returned, but the two have their squabbles here and there, but they're mostly just playful banter or family habits.

Her and Myaxx get along quite well, and the two like hanging out with each other.

She's also fond of Ben since meeting him, and the two like chatting whenever he plays with her sons, he's even babysat for her a few times.

She has no interest in dating again anytime soon, and is proud to be a single mother.

She's the one who points out Azmuth and Ben's family like roles to each other often, mostly due to the fact that she understands what a paternal feeling is like, and because she's blunt about it.

She got her wisdom feet first out of her and Azmuth growing up.

While Azmuth was off in hiding, Divi reconnected with his father when looking after to him after surgery. So, unlike Azmuth, she mostly just calls him father and dad.

-Trapez, Cieven & Aegls-

The three mischievous nephews, sons and grandsons of the family. Left to right, Trapez, Cieven & Aegls, who are the triplets of Divi. The three are like glue, and are often playing or up to little tricks, creating chaos around Galvan Prime. While they mostly look the same and are all tricksters, they do have personality differences. Trapez is the best when it comes to emotions and the phycology behind it, something most Galvans struggle with, and can come across as the kindest of the three. Cieven has a lot of traits from Divi and Azmuth, being fairly intelligent and wanting to be a lot like his uncle someday, though does have some of their sarcastic nature as well. Aegls is the most energetic of the three, hype up often and quick with crafting and thinking of ideas. When you combine all three together, you get a force of endless chaos.

Their mother has been honest to them about who their father is, and why he isn't around, but the three have grown up fine without him, and will forever be grateful for the work their mother put into caring for them.

They were born while Azmuth was away, and so have been building up hype about their missing uncle for most of their lives, enough so that when Azmuth did come back, they all tackled hugged him while he was still understanding the idea that he was now in fact an uncle.

They love Ben and the Omnitrix, roping Ben into some of their pranks and shenanigans, and while Ben mostly tries to stare them into the right direction, he can't help himself half the time and joins in on the chaos, much to Azmuth and Divi's dismay.

They do become a part of my Ben 10 Next Gen Series, given Galvans take forever to age, and will finally be young tweens when the Next Gen takes place.

The three each have different dream jobs for the future. Trapez wants to be a psychiatrist or doctor, Cieven wants to be an inventor, and Aegls was to deal with energy based matters like his grandfather once did.

Never give these kids sugar or coffee, it will end badly.

The three...had a bad encounter with Malware during his rampage, and for a while were scared around Galvanic Mechamorphs...They get over it eventually, but Malware does haunt them for a long while.

They once picked up some colourful language from Azmuth and Myaxx when overhearing them once. You can imagine how Divi took that.

-The First Thinker Family-

The traumatic event that struck the family was in fact the death of Azmuth and Divi's mother, who was killed by someone who was after Galvan Tech. The family fell apart after that, with Retaliator falling into a deep depression and being distant from his kids, and Azmuth and Divi going wild in their teen/young adult years to distract themselves from the grief. They've all come together now and have been taking the proper sets to honor her memory, and become a family again.

While no one has outright said it, Ben has kind of become part of this little family in a few ways, and after a while Azmuth stops being survived when the boy shows up for family dinners or game nights.

They all live on Galvan Prime, though Retaliator is known to take trips here and there around the galaxy, wanting to see more of it during his retirement.

On the outside, many Galvans treat the family as there wise people, who have sage advice. And while that isn't wrong, once you get to know them they're a very chaotic family...

#Hope you enjoy what I've done with Azmuth's character and his family #I just really want to get across how I think he should have gone #Ben 10 #ben 10 omniverse #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben 10 alien force #Azmuth #Ben 10 Azmuth #Ben 10 OCs #Ben 10 Destroy All Aliens #My art #Ben 10 Rewrite #ben 10 redesign

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chickensarentcheap · 3 years

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I Found- Chapter 1

A/N: Hey folks! This is little visit to the past in honour of the one year anniversary of Extraction and this fic itself. As of tomorrow, I will post two to three chapters A DAY until all are up. I know they’re a mess on my blog right now and people who don’t want to go to Ao3 can’t find all the chapters. I was going to thoroughly edit, but I thought ‘why not leave it as is?’. It’s a little more than 365 days old now and a lot has changed for both the characters and my writing itself. As my long time readers and supporters can tell you :). So keep in mind, this was my first foray into writing Tyler and it’s rough and it’s a little...not the me I am now...but it’s a fun ride, IMO.

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Rake (Original Female Character)

Face Claims: Chris Hemsworth (obviously) and Rachel Bilson

Premise: Broken and bleeding. Weathered and in tatters. Two damaged and weary souls find one another when they least expect it. Wrong place, wrong time. Yet both powerless to stop it.

Summary: Eleven months after the events in Dhaka and his near death experience, Tyler Rake is a new man. A different man. Struggling with the demons of his past while balancing being a husband and a father.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23945782/chapters/57587218

It's been just shy of twelve months and his instincts are still keen; nerves rash and fresh, body and mind always on high alert. The proof to the old adage that old habits really do die hard.

A journey to the very brink of death. Weeks of lying in a hospital bed teetering on the threshold of this life and the next. Countless agonizing hours of rehab and physical therapy just to relearn the basics and get back onto his weary and battered feet. Once he was home nothing had been able to slow him down. He threw everything he had into healing. Every ounce of mind, body, and spirit. Pushing himself past the warnings and the limits that the doctors and specialists had set for him. Ignoring the advice on not to push himself too hard, too fast. He felt as if he didn't have a choice. He no longer just had himself to worry about; another human being with one on the way that was relying on him. Depending on him to take care of them. Provide for them. Protect them. So he had pushed himself to the brink of both exhaustion and physical and emotional collapse. Eventually finding himself back at at the gym and packing on the weight and muscle. Anxious for some semblance of the man he used to be.

He hears the soft rustle of blankets though the monitor on the nightstand and his eyes immediately snap open. Sleep was a strange beast for him these days. Nights where he could fall into a peaceful slumber and stay there until sunlight was streaming through the window, others where the pain was all encompassing and nauseating and he couldn't get comfortable, and those where he was haunted by the demons of his past. The latter didn't come nearly as often as they did before; managing to find some hint of internal peace with the things he had done and witnessed. Once in a while he'd find himself back on that bridge; assaulted by the smells of gun powder and lead. The acrid taste of blood on his lips. And he'd hear her voice and feel her hands; the way she cradled his face in them, the way she'd pulled his nearly lifeless body tight against her, felt those tears that fell on his skin. Thankfully he'd awaken and quickly discover that he was in the safety and comfort of his own home. His own bed. And he'd watch her as she slept; the way the moonlight painted her smooth skin in an ethereal glow and the slight smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. He'd watch her and listen to her breathe and he'd remind himself of just how far he had come. Gratitude spreading through him like a slow burning fire. Thankful for the second chance that he'd been given. For the love that he'd found during one of the darkest and most difficult periods of his life. She'd given him a reason. A purpose. And he wasn't going to take that for granted.

He groans as he rolls over onto his back. The pain isn't as bad tonight. There were times he could barely even move. Where the agony made him dizzy and nauseous and even the simplest of tasks seemed impossible to preform. Tonight it's a dull ache; a nagging pain that has settled deep into his bones and his joints but he has learned to deal with. Placing his hands behind his head, he waits and listens. The lights from the monitor dancing across the ceiling as life stirs in the room across the hall. He's gotten used to it; the little noises, the soft sighs, the slight fussing before she settles herself back to sleep. It wasn't his first rodeo after all; not his first foray into fatherhood. But it is the first time he's been able to be more hands on. Put his be all and end all into the nurturing. And this time he knows he will get it right. He's determined to make amends for the mistakes of his past. Moving on didn't mean forgetting. It didn't mean that the love and regret and the guilt weren't still there, lingering just under the surface. Sometimes the greatest homage to the dead was how the living continued. How they made up for the bad decisions they made and how those decisions had...in the end...helped shape them into a better person.

The sounds through the monitor continue and he sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and giving his body and brain time to adjust to full consciousness. Running his hands through his hair and over his tired face, fingers brushing against the various scars that serve as a lasting memory of his former life. A pair of sweats sit in a discarded pile by the bed and he reaches for them; softly muttering profanities at the various cracks and pops that his body makes at the simple task of pulling on his pants. Scar tissue, arthritis, remnants of shrapnel and bullets that couldn't safely be removed. All working together to be a complete pain in his ass. His wife moves behind him. Sighing loudly and contently as she rolls over onto her side. Not waking as her hand instinctively reaching out for him; finger tips brushing against his back just as he stands up.

He is out the door and in the hall before the first shrill cry erupts. Yawning and stretching noisily as he steps into the nursery. A cheerful room with soft yellow walls, pink, white, and purple stripped curtains and natural wood furniture. Teddy bears and dolls staring down at him from the perches on the shelves on the wall, accompanied by framed photos of baby animals and Disney characters. He'd never pictured himself a 'girl dad'; frilly dresses and the tiny socks with the lace around the ankles, and the little headbands that served no other purpose than being cute. He was rough and tumble. Always had been, even from an early age. So when he'd found out he was having a daughter he'd been terrified. He didn't know the first thing about taking care of little girls and doing their hair and healing their broken hearts. And for the first time in his life was actually scared of something. Or someone. A being that hadn't even been born yet but was already making a huge impact on his life.

“You'll be fine,” his wife had assured him when he'd expressed his concern. Watching from the couch as she stood at the kitchen table folding laundry. Including a newly purchased outfit and those tiny teeny socks that she had purchased just hours ago. She was so beautiful. Standing there with that chestnut hair tumbling down to her waist, her belly swollen with their child. HIS child. A child that had been conceived in the midst of all the chaos and uncertainty. “You've ridden this particular bike before,” she'd reminded him. “This isn't your first time going through this.”

“That was different. That was a boy. This is a girl. This is dresses and pig tails and tea parties and make up and other boys.”

“Tyler, that's years down the road. You can't worry about that stuff. Make up and boys? You can't dwell on what she's going to be like when she's a teenager.”

“I sure bloody well can. Because knowing my luck she'll end up just like her mother. Full of piss and vinegar and all kinds of trouble.”

“You always did know how to get yourself into heaps of it,” she'd smirked, and tossed a pair of balled up socks in his direction, just missing his head. “But you always managed to get yourself out of it too.”

“I knew you were trouble from the very second I met you, you know,” he'd said, as he got off the couch and wandered over to where she was so diligently working. Liking the way that simple white gold wedding band looked on her finger. He still hadn't gotten used to; it had only been a few months and even with that life growing in her belly, they were still very much enjoying being newlyweds. He liked it. Being a husband. He liked the simplicity and the comforts that came with the little things that took up their new life. Household chores and preparing meals and sharing a bed with the same warm body and beautiful face each and every day. Mundane to some. A welcome change and relief to him.

“I wasn't the one with the reputation for being difficult,” she'd reminded him. “I wasn't the one who was like a bear with a sole asshole even on his best days.”

“Yet here you are. Playing house with me. A good little wife. Giving me babies. So I must have done something right, huh?” he'd playfully nudged her with his elbow. “You stuck around. Through thick or thin. I put you through a lot of shit and agony and here you are. Here WE are.”

“You can't get rid of me that easily, Tyler Rake. You think you would have realized that by now.”

“Getting rid of you is the last thing I ever want.”

They'd stood in companionable silence; working quickly and efficiently together. Little boring tasks that they almost never got to experience. He'd never take things like that for granted again. And he'd grabbed a pair of her underwear from the fresh pile and hooking them around his finger, grinned as he swung them around.

“How'd we ever graduate to these, huh? These are not what I remember you wearing. You weren't wearing any the first time we...well...you know...”

“You're such a pig,” she'd grumbled, and tried to snatch them away. Frowning when he held them high above his head. Not an easy reach for a woman that only stood five foot three. “What is wrong with you? Seriously.”

“I thought you were trouble the second I met you. The way you shook my hand. The way you smiled at me. But I knew it for sure when I had you pinned against that wall and I put my hand down your shorts and realized that you weren't any underwear. Remember that? That first time? I knew I was in trouble but I didn't want to stop. I couldn't stop. I was surprised you were such a kinky little thing.”

“You've got issues. What is your major malfunction?”

“Nothing wrong with a little visit to the past. Especially when it involves being naked.”

“Would you stop?” she'd perched herself on her tip toes and frantically tried to grab the offending piece of clothing from his grasp. “What's gotten into you?”

“It's what hasn't gotten into you in a while,” he'd retorted, laughing when she'd directed a slap to his gut, his arms circling her waist when she'd lost her balance and tumbled into him. And they'd stood like that; her head against his chest, his eyes closed and his chin resting on the top of her head. Loving all those things about her that had become so familiar and comforting to him. The lingering scent of coconut shampoo that clung to her hair, the feel of her heart beating against him, those small and soft hands stroking up and down his back. This woman...the one that had seen him at his most fragile...who he owed his life to.

Her hands were on the back of his shoulders when she'd pulled away and looked up at him. Her eyes sparkling as she smiled. A smile he had once thought he'd never see again.

“I love you,” he'd told her. Three words that he had always hesitated on uttering before but now couldn't say enough. If Gaspar was still around he'd call him soft. Tell him he was whipped and a pussy and needed to get his balls back. But he wasn't around anymore.

A lot of people weren't.

“I know,” she'd said. “But not nearly as much as I love you.”

“Hey, this isn't a competition. And if it was, I'd win. I always do.”

“You have a very overinflated sense of yourself,” she'd chided.

He was her rock. He knew that. Even when he was still recovering and he was nothing more than a mere fraction of the man he once was. Even when she had to help nurse him back to health and he'd had to trust her completely with even the mundane things like feeding himself and brushing his teeth. But she'd stuck by him. Even when he felt humiliated that he even needed help with such things. Embarrassed that she was seeing him so vulnerable. Allowing her to see his tears of anger, frustration, and pain. She'd always said that he was the only one that made her feel safe and secure. Protected. Even when he wasn't at his best.

“Shit...” She'd grimaced when the baby had kicked her especially hard. Eyes closing and her forehead falling onto his chest.

“Even I felt that one.” He’d e'd move one hand from her waist to her ever growing stomach. Marvelling at the way he could feel their baby...his baby...moving inside of her. It may not have been his first time. Not his first child. But he was determined to enjoy every second of it and not take a single moment for granted. “See what I mean? Trouble just like her mom. Feisty as all hell. A boy wouldn't cause this many issues.”

“Boys come with a whole shit load of issues. After all, it was a boy that got me into this situation in the first place.”

“Come on now, I wasn't the only one that was having all the fun. You seemed to be enjoying yourself too. I didn't make this baby all on my own, you know.”

“It was fun,” she'd admitted. “It always is.”

“Yeah. It most definitely is.”

One of her hands came down to rest on top of his and they stood there together, feeling their child moving inside of her. Marvelling at all the kicks and wriggles. At the miracle that they had created. All because two people fell in love during the entirely wrong time and in the entirely wrong place.

“You need to take it easy there, sweetheart,” he'd spoken to his daughter, his hand moving in slow, comforting circles. “Go easy on your mum, okay? Daddy's already put her through enough to last a lifetime.”

“She listens to you already. She likes your voice.”

“Already takes after her mother. Isn't that one of the first things you said you liked about me? My voice?”

“It does funny things to my insides. Even now.”

“I like doing funny things to your insides,” he'd dropped a kiss on the top of her head and she'd looked up at him once again.

“I think we should go to bed.”

“It's only eight thirty.”

“I don't mean to sleep. I mean to do other things. Fun things. Things that help you sleep better.”

A slow grin had spread across his face.

He didn't need to be told twice.

*******

“What's going on in here?” he asks as he steps alongside the crib, where his tiny baby girl has managed to to shed herself of her tight swaddling and was preparing to whip herself up into a frenzy. She has his temper already; slow to anger but almost impossible to control once the fuse was fully lit. “What kind of trouble are you getting up to in here? How'd you get yourself into such a mess? Clever little thing, aren't you.”

The crying dies down. Settling down to a mere whimper. She recognizes her daddy's voice. His face. And she knows she's in good hands. The wailing replaced by an impossibly dramatic pout on someone so young.

“You really are your mother's daughter,” he says. “I recognize that look anywhere. How does a little one like you get yourself into trouble? Look at you...” he untangles the receiving blanket from between her legs and scoops her up from the crib. Lifting her to the safe and warm confines of his chest. A forearm supporting her bum, his palm on the back of her head. “It's okay now,” he croons, and presses a kiss to the side of her head. She has his hair; same texture and colour. His eyes. Even his nose and lips. He can hear his wife now. Complaining about doing all the leg work and going through all the pain, only to have the baby coming out looking just like him. “Daddy's here now. Everything is fine. You're okay now.”

After a quick diaper change, he carries her through the apartment and into the kitchen. That tiny little body laying perfectly along his forearm as he warms a bottle from the fridge. She fits so perfect in the crook of his arm; head nestled into the valley on his elbow, feet by his wrist. She's long. Lanky. Just like he'd been as a kid. “You're probably wondering why I'm out here doing this,” he speaks as he waits for the bottle to warm. “You know this is usually your mummy's thing. Getting up in the middle of the night. And I know she doesn't exactly use these silly things to feed you. But I thought we'd be nice and let her sleep. She does a lot for us, you know. She deserves to sleep.”

He sits on the couch as he feeds her; both feet on the coffee table, knees bent with her lying along his thighs. One hand holding the bottle and the fingers of the other exploring every inch of her. She is wondrous; big blue eyes and impossibly long dark lashes and freckles across the bridge of her nose. And has he talks to her in a deep and soothing tone, her gaze is focused intently on him. Eyes never leaving his, one of her tiny hands reaching for the hand that holds the bottle, all fingers curling around just one of his. He had forgotten what this was like. The pure magic of being a father. Knowing that you had helped create something so incredible. That you had played a part in bringing another human being into this world.

As crazy and fucked up as the world could be, that is. It gave him a sense of peace. The knowledge that when the end came, he'd go knowing that he had done something truly good and valuable with his life.

He stands and carries her over to the balcony window. Once again holding her with a forearm under her bum and a firm hand on the back of his head. “You see that out there...” he nods towards the skyline; twinkling lights of skyscrapers and glowing street lights and blazing stars. “...that can be a real scary place. There's a lot of really bad people out there. But there's a lot of really good people too. People that would protect you, no questions asked. People that already love you without even really knowing you. And somewhere out there, is some guy that's going to come into your life and probably break your heart. And you know what? That's okay. It's okay to get your heart broken. Because it makes you a better person. It makes you stronger. Even if you think it's going to kill you at the time.”

She stares up at him with those huge blue eyes. With so much wonder and trust that it it causes a lump of emotion to gather in his throat and blur his vision.

“You know, there was almost a time where this might not have happened. Where I might not have been here. Where it might have just been you and your mom. And if it wasn't for your mom, I probably wouldn't be here. She's something else, you know. She's the bravest and strongest person I've ever met in my entire life. And there were so many times where this could have been too much for her...where I could have been too much for her...and she could have just walked away. But she never did. She never gave up on me. Even when I was ready to give up on myself. She's the one you need to worry about, you know. She jokes around that I'm going to be the one that scares all the boys away but I have a feeling it's going to be her. She doesn't let anyone mess with the people she loves. She's a momma bear. She's ferocious and she's loyal and she will f...” he bites his tongue “...mess someone up if she needs to. I was even kind of scared of her when I first meet her. Not because she's scary looking or I was afraid she'd hurt me. Mind you, she probably could if she got mad enough. Like how she gets when I leave the toilet seat up in the middle of the night. She scared me because I'd never felt that way about anyone. At least not that quickly. You can be the strongest person in the world, but when that one person comes along, you can't stop it. No matter if the timing isn't right. No matter how screwed up things are. Even if it is the wrong place, wrong time. You're powerless. Your heart just takes over. The important thing you have to remember is that you let your heart and your head work at the same time. That's the only way things will be okay. Or at least that's how it worked for your mom and I.”

He adjusts his hold on her, bringing her up to rest against his chest. Fingers combing through her thick, silky hair, his other hand softly stroking her back.

“Your mom came into my life when I'd pretty much given up on everything. When I didn't even feel human any more. Where nothing mattered. She came into my life and rescued me. In every way a person can rescue someone. And I know she'll probably deny that if you ask her. She'd say that I'm the brave one. That I'm the one that rescues people. But she had the toughest job out of them all. I'm not the easiest person to love. And she knew that. Yet here she is. A year later and she's still sticking around. Still putting up with my crap. So I must be doing something right, yeah? She hasn't smothered me with a pillow in my sleep or put poison in my food or put a hit out on me.”

“You just had to ruin the moment,” that soft voice says from behind, and he watches her reflection through the window as she journeys over to them. Chestnut hair messy from sleep and falling loose to the middle of her back. She is heavier now; softer and curvier in all the right places. Having a baby will do that to you. But she's still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. Even more so decked out in one of his shirts; the fabric hanging to well below her knees, sleeves rolled and bunched just about her elbows. “What are you two doing? It's late. Or really early. Depending on how you look at it.”

“We're just having a little daddy daughter bonding time.”

She squints her eyes and peers at the clock on the nearby wall. “It's ten after three.”

“Time means nothing when you have a baby. She doesn't know what time it is. And I barely sleep, so...”

“So what does this bonding time consist of? Shit talking me?”

“I only said that last part because I knew you were behind me. I said all good things, I swear. And I was telling her all my best stories.”

“Lord I really hope not,” she rubs his shoulders and presses a kiss to his back before sidling up beside him. “All your best stories are gory.”

“I'm saving those ones for when she's old enough to be able to kick someone in the balls if they're bothering her. So she doesn't have to rely on a brother to do it.”

“Not even two months into this and you're already contemplating another? Good luck doing that yourself. Let me know how it works out for you.”

The subject had come up once or twice. About whether or not this was a one off or there were other children in their future. After he'd lost his son and given up on life, he hadn't thought there'd be any other kids. It wasn't as if he lived the kind of life he'd be proud to bring a child into it. She'd been a complete surprise. They thought they'd been careful. Apparently they hadn't been careful enough.. But she wasn't a mistake. Far from it. A happy accident was more like it. Now that he'd gotten his feet wet again in the parenting pool, he was open to having more kids. He craved it, actually. Another two or three. And a modest house on a good parcel of land. Somewhere close to the beach. With a window that looked into the backyard that he could watch his children through. Where he could grow old and gray with the love of his life.

But he still had a lot of shit to deal with before any of that could happen.

She yawns loudly and steps in front of him; both arms wrapping around his waist she lays her head against him. “Are you okay?”

“Best I can be, I guess. Little sore. But what else is new.”

She just nods. She knows it goes beyond being 'a little sore'. She had seen the extent of his injuries. She'd lived out the horror right alongside of him. It had been his blood that soaked her that day on the bridge. But she also knows he isn't the type you fawn over. He doesn't like the attention. Feeling as if he's weak. Or that he may be a burden. He was still trying to get that confidence back. The ego takes a serious beating when you're left unable to do even the smallest of tasks for yourself. “You're having trouble sleeping?”

“When haven't I had trouble sleeping?”

“But it's worse now, isn't it. I know how many times you get up in the middle of the night. It's worse now.”

“Just a stage,” he assures her. “I'll be fine. How many times have we been through this, huh? How many times do I have to tell you not to worry about me?”

“A million. But I still won't listen.”

“That's never going to change,” he teases. “You didn't listen to me a year ago and you don't listen to me now. And you wonder why I say your daughter is going to be trouble.”

She grins up at him. “Why does she become just my daughter when you talk about trouble?”

“Because we both know who the real trouble maker is in this relationship,” he retorts, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

In silence they watch their daughter; the way her eyes shift between the two of them before slowing beginning to close, a yawn escaping her mouth. A surprisingly large one that ends in a tiny squeak. He's in awe of her. Of how tiny and fragile she is. How he'd managed to make something so amazing.

“She's beautiful,” he speaks around a lump of emotion that sits square in his throat. His emotions have been raw since that day in Dhaka. And even more so since becoming a father for a second time. He can hear Gaspar in his head again. Talking about how soft he was becoming. That he didn't even recognize him any more. That growing a heart this late in the game was going to be his biggest downfall and his most relentless enemy. “Like her mother.”

“She looks just like you.”

“I honestly don't see it,” he hopes he sounds a least a tad sincere.

His wife gives a derisive snort. “You have some seriously strong genes, Tyler Rake. Imagine if we had a boy? Probably be your splitting image. By the way...” she rubs his stomach and smiles up at him. “...you do the really big, strong man with a tiny baby thing very well. It's kind of sexy.”

“Just kind of? I was going for totally sexy. Insanely sexy. You might as well said mediocre sexy.”

“Don't expect me to stroke your ego at three in the morning.”

“Why not? Not like you've been stroking anything else lately.”

“Shhhh...” she places a finger over her lips. “...there's innocent ears in this room.”

“She's asleep. And even if she wasn't, she wouldn't understand what I was saying anyway. Besides, she's going to end up learning where she come from sooner or later.”

“Well let's make that later. Much later. And mediocre sexy? Really? As if you could ever be anything other than out of the world sexy.”

“You're lucky. I was going to have to file for divorce if you called me 'average sexy'.”

“You're too much,” she giggles, and dropping one of her arms from around his waist, runs the palm of her hand along the baby's hair. “And you're right. She is beautiful. She is perfect.”

“It's hard to believe sometimes, isn't it? That we made her? During all that craziness and all that madness, we actually made a life together. Surreal, huh? That something so beautiful could come out of all of that?”

“A lot of beautiful things came out of that. We just have a hard time recognizing what they are sometimes.”

He nods in agreement. Sniffling noisily and swallowing heavily when the weight of emotion becomes almost too much to bear. He's never had to hide this side of himself when it came to her. After all, she was the one who'd successfully bulldozed all of his walls to the ground. So it comes as no surprise to either of them when the tears finally do come; blazing hot against his skin, the taste of salt stinging his lips.

“Baby...” she turns to face him, reaching up to take his face in her hands. “...what's wrong? What...?”

“Nothing's wrong. I just...” he struggles to find the words, inhaling deeply and releasing a shaky breath. “...thank you...” he says. “...for her. For you. For us.”

“I think you played a pretty big part in her being here,” she reminds him. “It's not like I did this alone.”

“I don't deserve all of this. I don't deserve her. I don't deserve you. This...this life...” he shakes his head. “...this was meant for someone else. A better man than me.”

She chews pensively on her bottom lip and regards him through her own tears. He knows she won't let them come. She's been the one holding back lately. When they'd met, she'd been the high strung and overly emotional one. Always on edge. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. He'd been that calm, cool, and collected one. The one that held shit together when it threatened to blow apart. Talking her down off the ledge while trying to keep both of them...and eventually Ovi...alive. Since the baby she'd changed. Her motherly instincts and her love for their child could never be matched by anyone else. But she had closed herself off in other ways. She became the strong and silent one. The one who always held her emotions in check. He figured it was all that time she spent helping him get back on his feet. What she'd seen and had to endure would harden anyone.

But he'd be lying if he didn't say he wasn't concerned. If he didn't find himself wishing for that emotional and broken girl she'd once been.

She was out there. And he knew where.

She was still back in Dhaka.

Still standing on that bridge.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake x OFC #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #I Found-Tyler Rake/Esme Rake

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magnaflourious-nerdity · 4 years

Text

But Through Darkened Glasses

(You Need Chaos in Your Soul)

" And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you."

There was a prompt on some Halloween themed fandom challenge for October. Monday's was 'Black Cat' and for whatever reason. This is what happened. Bc im just going with that kind of thing lately I guess, I decided to spit it out here. I didn't beta this thoroughly enough I guarantee bc im lazy and also the fandom is like 20 people big, and generally full of forgiving, lovely, content starved ppl. The last point I am extrapolating from my own experiences of being in the fandom, haha.

_____

It's weird, he thinks, twining in and out of the fence post he's been following for the past few minutes, trying to get his bearings now that he's been saddled with twice his accustomed amount of limbs. It's weird that I'm not more freaked out about this. He pauses, grooms himself briefly and crosses the street under the lamp light. The bulb blows out halfway across. He doesn't even jump this time. Maybe it's a bonus of having nine lives, you don't worry so much about one or two practice runs. His ears twitch minutely as the wind shifts and brings a low, buzzing, sound sighing through the fronds of the willow at the edge of his yard. They're even more sensitive now that he's a cat- the ears that is -twitching at the slightest whisper of a sound in the night.

He doesn't even bother to slow his pace as he hops the fence and passes through his own back yard, simply fixing jade eyes on the window he knows to be Becky's, turning them away again with the knowledge that there's no way she'd be at home tonight. Not on a night where she's basically been given free reign to go full-tilt feral social-climber on every party in town. There's no gaining entrance into his lair in his current state (nor is he particularly keen to meet Rasputin face to face right now either) and his parents are out of the question. Can't guarantee his dad won't be too drunk this late on a Halloween to tie a bottle rocket to his newly acquired tail. Don't really care to see him if he's sober either. Or just in general

Instead, His attention remains fixed on the sound he'd heard in the distance before, as he cuts across lawns and ducks down the well trod neighborhood backalleys, avoiding any heards of desperate, last-minute, trick-or-treaters or gaggles of drunken party-goers he catches wind of.

He's at the point of shrugging off the weird sounds he's been hearing as the result of some sort of particularly lumbering rodent in the underbrush, turning his attention instead to the little flashes of lamp light glinting off of abandoned candy wrappers. Batting at one every now and then non-committaly. It wasn't as exciting as one might think, being a cat. Kind of a snooze even, as far as curses went.

Well, at least it had the wherewithal and the courtesy as a curse to take aesthetics into account.

He was definitely the kind of cat his father would have chased off the lawn with a bb gun, if it had showed up at their door looking for food. He examines the pitch-colored shroud of his newly acquired fur as best as he can, glad- in a removed sort of way -that at least he was a proper Halloween cat. Scruffy and mysterious, not one of those opulently fluffy, pearl-colored, fancy-feast models.

There was dignity in being a black cat on Halloween. There was style! There was pinache!

A whisper, a low hum beyond his perception.

There were secrets. There was power. All of it his for the taking now that the opportunity had been unwittingly granted.

He'd read a legend once- in one of his massive, dusty, volumes on the lore of shapeshifters, dating back to antiquity -that on Halloween, black cats were at the most transient state of their existances. They could- if they could find the right chinks in reality's armour, where the space between things overlapped and folded in on itself like challah -use the threads surrounding and connecting the worlds to perform any number of impossibilities. Assume other forms, be anywhere at once, sew prosperity or discord at a whim.

It was said that those creatures most in-tune with with the pathways could even travel between them all. All of the worlds bookended against and, at certain times like tonight, overlapping their own. Those most-adept cats could slip in and out of dimensions as easily as a shadow slips under doorway.

I mean, I guess now is as good a time as any to test that hypothesis, Merton mused, slit-pupils zeroing in on the slightest movement down the street from Tommy's house, which was naturally where his slinky, purposeful, wandering had taken him. There were no other thoughts to it really. After all. He and Tommy were each other's lifeboats, lashed together to weather whatever bullshit came their way, side-by-side.

At least where finding ourselves on the wrong side of dark magic is concerned. He amended to himself. There was no one else here so he wasn't sure why he even bothered really.

He hesitated silently under a street lamp. The crackling sound of the light flickering above him sounded grating to his sensitive ears. He could understand Tommy's super-hearing-based woes a lot better now at least. With his gaze shifting uneasily between the safety of Tommy's house- the safety of his company, and of his unconditional presence, and of his unwavering dedication to Merton's protection despite the workload that it was turning out to be- and back to the subtle, but suddenly noticeable undulations of the shadows at the farthest edge of the neighbor's hedgerows. An opportunity had manifested itself.

Almost neigh-imperceptably, something shifts in the air, pervading every cranny of the now darkened street.

A moment of choice for Merton. The unexplored possibilities mount in his head, weighed against the cons of breaching the utterly unknowable. He is bewitched, rooted to the spot. Eve on the precipice of the apple, by virtue of both temptation and fear.

He'd gone to more extreme means, on less intel, for far more ridiculous pursuits. This was just a short walk to the end of the street. But he hesitates nonetheless, his own mind overriding the detatched curiosity that grew into him- into his bones -the longer he was attached to this form. He feels the pull of the interstitial static of the spaces between space, it hums and pulses gently along to the music of the spheres. Soft, inviting, unknowable.

He thinks of slipping between the phases of reality. Could he regain his body on his own that way? Could he pick a better one? He pads gently forward, going only a few, cautious steps, questioning himself all the while and trying to brace his senses against the hypnotic call of whatever the netherspace was wordlessly offering to him. He is waiting to see when the time will be right. If it will be at all. What will come of it.

I can fix this on my own for once, right now. He tells himself . I can learn so much. About everything. I can fix so much if I can just...

The pull of the place between is Urgent. Heady. Disorienting, he finds. It beckons him more insistently with each passing moment, and every sound made in the darkness is a soft, sighing, call to action. To adventure. To satisfy all of his human spawned, feline fueled, curiosities alike.

But another sound, this one from inside Tommy's house- still nearly right next to him -severs the tie. It's Tommy's laugh, loud and sharp and as intimately familiar to him as a siren song of his own.

Tommy. His tail lifts up into the air of its own accord as he starts to correct course towards the tree in Tommy's back yard, one which frequent exposure to the Dawkin's household tells him leads to the- usually wide open -2nd floor window landing of his best friend's bedroom.

The whispering from behind him grows more urgent as he turns away from it. Easier to discern from the normal night-music of Pleasantville. It grows in pitch, insistent, like a vulture pecking at the stripped down bones of its roadside carrion.

Despite his growing unease, Merton still feels the gravity of the thin places of the world eying him up, clawing at him. He realizes, with detached horror, that if the last few minutes are anything to go by, in this form, he isn't even sure if he can resist it at all. Much less how long his moment of self possession can last.

Merton, as a cat, finds himself to be mostly a loose collection of animal instincts and a haphazard jigsaw of the the bits of the world that don't seem to want to fit right with himself; all of this sewed up into a body thats more suggestive of physical form than equitable to one. He doesn't know how to even begin to navigate the puzzle of resisting the undertow of the universe as it digs its fingers solidly into the newest and most vulnerable parts of his shared but singular conciousness. The shadows in the hedgerows, the ripples of what's underneath the idea of them, begin to pulsate. They flail. Or it flails, because he can't tell the collective from the distinct anymore, can only watch with awe as the patch of space and time it is currently occupying shimmers, and cracks, and grows, and reaches. Merton swears he can hear it SCREAMING in the back of his head. At the place where his thoughts dissolve into notions less definable by words, and transform instead into a swirling mass of impulses conducted by the now-shrill trans-dimensional, thrumming of the universe's insistent, staticky back beat.

He sees something solidifying in the ectoplasm of that open sore in the flesh of the world. Something besides the thrashing, churning, cult of tendrils reaching out from the places they can squeeze through in the cracks. The sight makes every single one of his hairs stand on end. Which is something, given he has a significant deal more of them now than he usually would. But there is no mistaking what he is seeing being melded together in the eye of that widening miasma. A hand claws its way past the meshing, roiling tentacles of that dark expanse. Pulling itself forward into the physical, out of the theoretical. A set of shoulders struggles past, dragging the other arm in to being along side it, pale and wan. There is a pause, one last still moment before, with repulsion thrumming through every part of him, he focuses on the well of dark magics still spewing forth parts of the creature. He sees the top of a head breech through the dimensional weak spot. The head turns in Merton's direction at his displeased hisses of fright. Merton locks up in immediate, gut-wrenching, horror when the creature gazes back at him, wearing his own face.

‐-----

I'll probably never continue this or even do anything at all w it,, but it was fun! In case you were wondering about the subtext between tommy and merton, yes. gay. Also whats dialague don't know her

#gothicwolf #halloween prompt #writing challenge #tommy dawkins #merton dingle

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heechulhamster · 5 years

Text

The Truth You Can’t Hide VII

KIM JUNMYEON (SUHO) x Fem Reader

Chapter 7 [The Truth You Can’t Hide MASTERLIST]

You did it so well for six years. You’ve hid your son from the biggest threat of his life. But one mishap led to the biggest secret in your life being face to face with the man you’ve kept him away from all these years - his father.

Angst, Mafia AU!

CHAPTERS

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 ongoing

“How careless of you to do something like this, Y/N!” The expanse of your living room was spacious, yet the voice of your father blared and echoed on the distant walls.

Yet you remained blank faced, trying not to be fazed by their harsh words which you’ve already expected. It shouldn’t affect you because you because it was all the consequence of a lie - a lie that you needed in order to get away from here.

“Really, a one night stand with a random guy you couldn’t even put a name to? This is so uncharacteristic of you!” His hand flew to his temple in frustration as he paced around the marble floors.

It’s been a while since you’ve paced the halls of the lavish house you grew up in, just fitting to that of a renowned politician. Yet you always grew up trying to conceal your family background from everyone. Sheltered - was how would people define you. But in reality, you’re just tired of the limelight your parents lived their lives under, your father being a member of the National Assembly and your mother being a socialite doctor. You didn’t want their prominent names to define you. And that personality of yours was probably another reason why this came as a shock to them.

“How could you do this to us? How could you do this to Junmyeon? How could you do this to yourself?” Oh yes, of course they’ll worry about Junmyeon - how much they favored and loved your relationship with the perfect, impeccable, and the most ideal Junmyeon. Except for the fact that he wasn’t.

“He doesn’t even know.” You said, nonchalantly - sharing none of the hysteria that plagued the other two bodies in the room.

“Of course you wouldn’t be able to tell him, because this is a disgrace! Just think of what would the Kim family would make of you now. They already accepted you as their own daughter, gave you a high position in their company - and now you’ll do this? Cheat? And have an unwanted pregnancy?” His veins were already protruding against his forehead. You don’t even remember if he was ever even half as angry towards you as he is right now, as you’ve always been nothing but the ideal daughter. But this isn’t exactly idealistic.

“We’ve already broken up, they wouldn’t know if I don’t stay here. That’s why I’m planning to go to LA. I need to hide from anyone who might have a connection with him.” You explained calmly, having recalled the plan in your mind that you’ve had for three weeks now. Three weeks since your eyes landed on that confidential folder atop of Junmyeon’s desk.

“I think that would be the best for all of us. Just leave.” He finally calmed down in terms of the volume of his voice, yet his tone still remained stern. Your mother just sat silently on the bergere chair across you, trying to keep her orderly fashion yet her eyes spoke of disappointment.

“Just leave. We’re cutting all ties from you. You need to learn that behavior like this is such a disappointment, you’re a disgrace to this family. You’re a grown woman, I believe you can handle everything on your own, especially with decisions as spiteful as that. You’re not my daughter.” With those words, your dad made his way out of the scene as he ascended the stairs.

Neither you nor your mom were able to say any words, knowing he’ll never back down. And there’s already an internal judgement your mom made, too.

Your hand flew to your stomach in a sense of protectiveness, to a growing life that hasn’t even aged a month. Yet is already judged by the lies you needed to tell in order to keep it alive.

“Why would you do this?” Your mother spoke as calmly and as heartfelt as she could, her maternal instincts kicking in.

“There’s no acceptable reason, there’s no use.” You said with a bitter taste in your mouth, thinking what if this was real. You’ve always been their treasured princess, but they weren’t even hesitant to disown you with one mistake.

“Let me hear it, I still want to hear you.” She transferred to sit beside you as she held your hand tightly with her thin feminine fingers.

“Junmyeon was being very busy the past few months, getting ready for the transfer of the obligations to his name. I was getting very lonely, one thing I’ve never been used to since we’ve been together. And it just happened.” You said, having perfectly concocted the tale of the lie in your mind that you could repeat it a thousand times.

“We could wait for your father to calm down, I’m sure he’s not that mad. I’m sure there will come a point that he’ll forgive you. Don’t leave.” Her other hand started caressing your back.

“No, I need to leave. I don’t want constant judgement from him everyday. Junmyeon doesn’t know that I’m pregnant, too. And we know he can easily just go here and see me.” You answered without hesitancy while as the latter part of the statement is the truth.

That was the last time you step foot the house that you face right now, it’s white columns still reminiscent of your sheltered childhood. The days you spent quietly studying inside, being groomed into the lawyer that they always wanted you to be - but someone you never was. The spacious house filled with images of lavishness that never had any emotional meaning to you. A house so desolate of human existence as the people in it were only around ever so often. How you promised yourself not to raise your child the way you were raised, only with nannies to do the bare minimum of what it entails to be a parent as both people responsible for your existence are always too busy with their careers to be a parent at home. It was something you and Junmyeon shared, a lonely childhood. But you ended up doing something worse to Jaejin.

Your son was silently sleeping beside you in the back of the cab you rented after making an abrupt exit of Junmyeon’s mansion. You remember hours ago how it wasn’t Junmyeon who called for you but Sehun and Minseok. Both of who you just dismissed, saying how they should stay out of this. You brought along with you a few of you and Jaejin’s things, unsure of until when you want to avoid Junmyeon - again.

“Mama, is this your house?” Jaejin rubbed his eyes as he gets up from his slumber and looks outside the cab window.

“Yes, baby. Mama used to live here. Let’s go down? Do you want Mama to carry you?” You asked Jaejin with a smile, which he just declined with a shake of his head.

The both of you stood in front of the intimidating black gate of the house. You’re not even sure if the guards still know you nor if they would let you in. But you were left at your last resort.

But that’s not the sole reason why you’re back here. You’ve already wanted to make amends with the lies of your past a while ago. Jaejin deserves to know other members of his family, too. And he doesn’t deserve to be treated as a mistake, or a secret. Because Jaejin is the best thing to have ever graced your life.

“Ma’am Y/N?” You’re brought back to your senses by a familiar voice. It was Byungchul-ssi, he used to be your all around man. He served as your driver, guard, and even the closest thing you had to a father when you were young.

“Byung-ssi?” You answered with a smile, which quickly turned into a worried expression. “Are they here? I was guessing if you could let us in?”

He looked on the child that stood beside you, how his small hand was tugging the end of your coat. And he nodded with a smile, “Of course, they’re waiting for you.”

Jaejin was quickly carried by his enthusiastic grandfather - as if all grief and disappointment towards your unexpected and “illegitimate” pregnancy was nonexistent, as if disowning you never happened. The sun only started to peek and rise in the horizons but the house was already bustling, the househelp were ordered to make each and every dish a child could want.

And you stood in the same living room you were berated in seven years ago.

You don’t know how to talk to your father, and you guess he shared the same sentiment as he only greeted Jaejin and not you. They’re somewhere in the old playground that was made for you during your childhood. Your mother was still in the kitchen, being involved in the mess that ensued in the race to feed a hungry child.

And you were left alone to feel the isolation that the house made you feel. It used to be your home, but now you feel as if everything that exists in this space despises you too.

Silently walking to the kitchen, you saw three women mixing and chopping every known ingredient in the pantry. And not that far away was the door leading to the backyard playground, and you could already hear Jaejin’s giggles.

“He’s such a ball of energy, isn’t he?” It has been a while since you spoke to your mom, not ever since that night.

“He’s always radiant.” You answered with a smile, thinking about Jaejin.

“I always thought of you, and my grandchild. But I didn’t know where to reach out.” She said with sadness evident in her voice. “Even your Dad always looked for you.”

And you were only able to answer with a bitter smile.

“I live with Junmyeon now.” You answered, scanning her face for any trace of shock or disapproval. “We did for the past five months.”

“He looks so much like him.” She said with a lingering smile as she looked out the glass sliding door to her husband and your son.

“Junmyeon is his father.”

“You don’t even have to say that. Anyone would be able to tell.” She said calmly, her eyes sincerely looking at yours. As if sharing a silent apology to all hell that has happened and all the judgement you’ve went through.

She then excused herself from the women who helped her prepare breakfast and led you back to the living room, indicating the intention to speak with you in private.

“The years flew by so fast, didn't they?” She spoke as soon as the both of you sat on the beige couch.

“They didn’t fly past me, the past seven years were rough.” You answered with utmost honesty.

“I can tell. I know we’re not the best definition of a mother and daughter relationship, but I sincerely want to hear what happened.” She said as she reached for your hand, firmly pressing on your fingers that she longed to touch for a long time.

So you did tell her the story of what unfolded the past few years. The hardships and decisions that made you the person you are today - so deviant from the meek daughter that they used to know. From your transfer to LA, to when Minseok found you and helped you along the way. Until Jinki came and relieved a vital position in you and Jaejin’s life. Until that fateful day that Jaejin ran into Junmyeon, and that’s where you stopped.

“Why did you have to go through all of this? That’s what I don’t understand. You could’ve just stayed with Junmyeon and lived a happy and comfortable life.” She spoke with overflowing concern.

“Because…” You considered if you should tell her, if you should incriminate the father of your son in the eyes of your own mother. “There’s some things about him that I deem unacceptable.”

“Like? I don’t understand. Junmyeon everything a woman could ask for in a partner.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“It’s not that, it’s more than that. It has something to do with his inescapable wealth and where it stems from. Something that I really disagree with.” You said, avoiding any eye contact with her as you just looked on your lap.

“I reckon this is about the unexpected transactions within their company?” She said, a sarcastic laugh coming out her mouth right after. You were only able to look at her, out of words and ways to answer. “Everybody knows, his father’s trials was made into a national circus. Considering that they were among the largest chaebols in the country, And of course, your father had connections.”

“Of course he would.” You responded with a bitter yet knowing laugh.

“His father was lucky that the prosecution didn’t have enough evidence, but everyone knows that transactions like that in a powerful shipping company exists.” She said as she shook her head in disbelief, too.

“And you’re okay with that? You raised me to have this unbreakable moral compass. You and Dad always told me to seek whatever is right.” You said in frustration, they raised you in a way with forced righteousness that eventually caused you breaking up with Junmyeon.

“I’m not saying that I’m okay with it. It’s wrong, in all forms. And there’s no excuse that would justify such act. What I’m saying is that a wrong act doesn’t define Junmyeon as a person.” Your Mom expounded.

“I raised you like that for a reason. Let me tell you a story way back when your father and I were in college.” She continued as one of the new house helps arrived with two cups of tea, which she put down on the glass table in front of you. “You know that I belonged in a sorority, and he belonged in a fraternity too, right? Very much like how you and Junmyeon met.” You nodded.

“Well, during our time, it was part of the initiation rights to beat up the freshmen when they want to enter your dad’s fraternity. He got involved in this huge mess that almost cost him his enrolment in law school. He was so distraught, it was his dream school after all. But I didn’t leave him. I know very well that he was just a victim of the existing system in the fraternity. They needed to do that to prove their loyalty to their brotherhood, but that didn’t mean your father was evil nor was he vile. Eventually, I helped him realize that what he did was wrong, and that he could change into a better person.” She reminisced as she took a sip of tea, and her words lingered and reverberated in your mind.

“Look at him now, how he supports human rights and is one of the best legislators in the country. As for you and Junmyeon, how I wish you didn’t leave him. I know this wasn’t his choice, that he didn’t have any call in his involvement in this. This is bigger than just his decisions or his company. And I hope you could talk to him about it.” She continued, the sincerity of her words and the warmth of her fingers on yours was attempted to fill the void that you longed for in a while.

“When I raised you to seek what’s morally right, it didn’t mean to condemn everyone who does wrong.To err is human, we’re all destined to make mistakes. Give Junmyeon a reason to do what’s right. Give him a chance, hear his side. He could be just another victim waiting for someone to believe in the goodness in him.”

And for the first time in a while, you’ve let yourself become just a daughter and listen to the words of your mom.

You stayed three more days at your old home, trying to catch up with your mother as they tried to form a bond with Jaejin. You and your father still weren’t on speaking terms, considering the weight of the words he last left you wasn’t easy to erase. Yet your mother’s advice lingered in your mind.

Guilty or not, Junmyeon’s side of the story deserved to be heard. And you never gave him that.

It was a Wednesday night when you drove back to Seoul in one of your mother’s luxury cars that she insisted you to have. You recognized that your old car wasn’t functional anymore, so you’re more than delighted to use this BMW, despite smelling so much like a California cherry air freshener.

You only give him a text as a notice that you’re coming over, and he didn’t even refuse.

“Yixing.” You spoke first, almost holding your breath to say his name. He’s clad in a simple white v-neck tee and some gym shorts, which emphasized how you invaded his personal time in the late hours of night.

“Come inside, please.” He gestured, always the gentleman that he is.

He indulged you to a cold glass of water as you sat down on the sofa. He felt your tenseness, the restlessness in your eyes. He knew there was a reason why you filed for a leave the past few days, Yixing’s been unbelievably worried about you as you never left a message. Scared that maybe Junmyeon is the reason behind your sudden absence.

“I haven’t seen you in a while, you’re doing fine?” He asked as he sat down across you.

You nodded as your hand slowly put down the now empty glass of water on the table. “I just made an unexpected visit to my parents, and they wanted me to extend my stay.” You explained simply.

“Oh, how was it?” Yixing asked, sincerity was in his voice.

“Went better than expected. You know how much Jaejin just brings everyone together.” You said with a chuckle. “Anyway, I’m here because I needed to talk to you. I’m sorry for disturbing your night.”

“You’re never a bother, Y/N. Must be urgent, isn’t it?” Yixing responded with a tinge of nervousness in the small laugh that followed after.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it for days.” You started off, just looking at your palms that sat atop your thighs. Unable to confront him with your eyes sitting on his, Yixing doesn’t deserve this - he’s such a wonderful man. Everything a woman could ask for, one could say.

“But you know how we started this. You weren’t exactly prepared to be presented with all these baggages that I have. You probably didn’t sign up for someone with a child, especially that of Junmyeon’s. And I wouldn’t want to be unfair to you.” You paused, feeling the tension in the atmosphere. How Yixing traced your face with the intent to prepare himself on what you’re about to say.

“And these baggages aren’t exactly something I’ve already fixed. And…” You paused to breathe air, “You’re a great guy, Yixing. If we met at another time, or given a different circumstance, I wouldn’t let go of someone like you. But it’s something that I need to do.”

“I need to do it because I need to be fair. I don’t want Jaejin to grow up and hate me because I was too stubborn to even try and give him a whole family that he deserves. I don’t want my child to suffer just because of my pride.” You said, and his little nods expressed his understanding.

You scooted over to reach for his hand, “I’m sorry that it had to be like this. You deserve a lot more, Yixing.”

Yixing put his hand over yours and tapped it reassuringly. “I understand, I really do. I think it’s just right, after I made Jaejin cry I quickly realized that he deserves even just a shot at a whole family.” He said with a smile, despite the pain that glistens in his eye.

“And as for Junmyeon, I know him. Maybe not as much as you do, but I see that he’ll also be willing to do everything to make this work.” He said with a smile. “Neither of us is perfect, I’m not sure if he already told you the shit I’ve done. But I, myself, can see the goodness in him.”

“I think this just wasn’t meant to be.” Yixing gave of a chuckle. “Yesterday, I got a call from my parents telling me that I’m needed back in China next month. I’m already preparing my resignation, actually. So I guess, this is two way.”

“Thank you, Yixing. I’m really sorry.” You said, not having the right words to say as of the moment.

“You don’t need to apologize. But please, do me a favor.” Yixing held your cheek with his right hand, the heat of his palm was all you could feel at the time being.

“Don’t just do it for Jaejin. Do it for yourself too, you deserve happiness.” With a peck on your forehead, you closed the book you and Yixing tried to write.

“I’m at the penthouse, why?” It didn’t even take a full minute for Junmyeon to reply to a text you sent asking where he is. You just wonder how he’s doing as of the moment.

You didn’t even bother constructing a reply to his message and just hopped again on your car, thinking of what you’ll even say to him once you arrive. First, you need to swallow all pride you have left. After turning your back on him and hiding his son from him for seven years, you need to apologize. After storming off from his house yet another time just a few days ago, you need to ask him back.

And you’re actually scared that he’ll reject you.

And it doesn’t help that you need to talk with him here at his penthouse. Once filled with wonderful memories as the both of you shared this space for over a year. You don’t know how to look at any corner of the said unit without being flooded with wonderful memories.

And being reminded of the worst.

It wasn’t even a full day that Junmyeon landed back to Korea, he’s probably still fatigued by the frequent trips and all the business related activities in between. But you don’t want to prolong your agony. You couldn’t spend another day seeing him in a different light. You couldn’t look at him without seeing a criminal.

“You couldn’t just leave!” He said as he chased you to the bedroom, your biggest luggage already prepared to be stuffed dramatically with all your clothes.

“And you could?” You yelled back.

“Please, Y/N. I promise you when this is all done, I’ll make it up to you. I would drop all of this for you but I just can’t. My dad needs me, too. Please understand.” He begged you as he sat by your side, Junmyeon’s hands struggled with yours as he tried to stop you from putting every cloth you have in the said luggage.

“You’ve already promised me one thing, Jun. You told me I should stay here, here with you, and not follow what I really want. And it’s been what? Two months that I barely see you here. That I barely talk to you. I gave up my dreams of getting into Harvard and actually being a lawyer for what? To clean your home?” You answered with so much spite in your voice.

It has been three weeks since you saw the folder and knew the truth. How the company was a courier for guns, bullets, drugs of all kinds, and all shit you swore you’ve always been against. And it’s only been two days since you discovered you were pregnant, which even more fueled your desire to get out of Junmyeon’s grasps. Your child wouldn’t grow up in such an environment, your stomach turns in just the thought of it.

“Let’s make a compromise, please. Okay, I’ll let you go to law school. I let you do what you want. I’ll stay with you if you want to, just please. Please don’t leave me. Please don’t. I love you so much, I need you in my life. Please.” He begged, you already hear Junmyeon sob beside you, yet you wouldn’t dare to look at him.

You can't let your heart soften and break by the sight of his tears. You know you still love him. You love Junmyeon so much. That’s why it was easy for you to give up your life long dream in order to stay with him - to be with him.

But there’s a side to Junmyeon that you didn’t know. A side that you couldn’t tolerate, bear, and could never love.

“Jun, I’ve already had so much. I can’t hold back on living my life just to wait for you. I can’t keep on being in the losing end. I’m so done.” You explained, breathlessly as the scene drains the soul out of you, too. Both of you were diving head first in the fathomless depths of suffering.

You never thought you’d ever have to break up with the love of your life, the one you thought was already your soulmate.

“I’d take this as my final warning. I’ll cancel everything, I’ll book a flight to US with you. We can stay there, I’d stay there with you while you become who you want to be. Just please, don’t leave me. I’m begging you, Y/N. I love you so much and I couldn’t lose you.” He hugged you from your back, his face buried in your neck as he gasps for air in between his sobbing. Junmyeon’s hands tightly coiled around your waist, and one of your hands struggled to make him let go. If he holds any tighter, he’ll hurt the baby. And that was another pain that you wouldn’t be able to bear.

“You shouldn’t stop your life for me. Your family needs you to work hard, Junmyeon. The same way I couldn’t stop my life for you too.” You said sharply, trying to mask your feelings. Trying to bury the pain into concealment, and you deny that such pain exist.

“We’re better off without each other, Junmyeon.”

You rode the special elevator, pressing the button that would lead to the 52nd floor. A bundle of papers were in your hands, the pages rattled against each other as your hands start to shake in nervousness. You don’t even know where to start and you have no inkling of what to expect.

A knock, a single knock and the door was instantly open. You could only think of how he waited on the other side the moment you sent a text.

“Y/N.” He said almost silently.

Junmyeon, for probably one of the very few times in his life, looked unkempt. He looked tired as told by the dark circles around his eyes. He was still in his office attire despite the late hours of night, his shirt loosely tucked and vaguely did it seemed ironed. Junmyeon did look as if he had a hard time.

“Can we talk?” You asked under your breath, taking all the confidence you need to face him again.

The thing is, Junmyeon didn’t directly express any desire to get back with you. Disappointment and regrets have been shared and spoken into existence, yet he never implied nor explicitly told you if he wants to be with you again. That’s why there’s a feeling in your gut that this may not end well.

“Of course.” He answered, eagerness evident in his voice and the way his face lit up.

You entered the penthouse, still as pristine as it looked like years ago. But there was barely any change, you think you’d still be able to walk around the space with your eyes closed and just relying on your muscle memory. It’s still the same old home you had with him.

“Where’s Jaejin?” He asked as you looked around the flat.

“He’s in Incheon with my parents. They asked for a time with him.” You explained dryly. “I just… had something to ask you.”

“Of course.” He said behind you. And your right hand carrying the papers slowly put the said files atop of the mahogany table in front of you.

“Why isn’t my name in these?” You asked. Junmyeon slowly walked to the side of the table and eventually in front of you, as his hands picked up the case files that sat on the table.

“Where did you get these?” He asked in confusion, as his eyes skimmed past the paragraphs of a trial he experienced firsthand.

“Yixing gave it to me.” You explained. “But why isn’t my name there.” You repeated your question.

“In what?” He faked innocence, or so you think. Your question isn’t exactly vivid.

“In the company files that they’ve recovered, my name wasn’t there. Those files were dated from eight to seven years ago. I was the head of the legal department during that time, but my name is either erased, or replaced with Jeongmi’s name. She wasn’t the head until I left.” You narrated your observations from reading the files. “Junmyeon, I signed those papers. I know those accounts. Why isn’t my name there.”

He gave off a tired and deep sigh as he sat on one of the dining chairs. “I had them omitted.”

“Why?” You ask as you pulled a chair for yourself.

“By the time you broke up with me, there was already an existing turmoil in the company. Everyone was already worried that I wouldn’t be able to assume position seamlessly. Sehun’s father battled for my position. There was so much internal problems that a few of these transactions were overlooked, the authorities got to inspect some of them. So I had to do something even before they start investigating. I had people run through every account that you had signed and alter them.” Junmyeon explained rather calmly.

“Why would you do that?” You queried once more.

“You told me that you were better off without me. You wanted to start anew. And I wouldn’t want to ruin your fresh start during that time. You deserved peace.” Junmyeon declared.

All you were able to do is look at him and process what he just said. During times of impending chaos, the first thing he’s thought of and done was to protect you. He could’ve just thrown you under the bus as you’ve already broken up with him, but he didn’t let that happen.

“You didn’t need to do that.” You told him, but he answered a small smile back at you.

“I wanted to.”

You gave him an appreciative stare, finding the right words to say but none actually seemed fitting. Junmyeon has always exceeded your expectations, even at times you know you didn’t deserve.

“Myeon, I actually came here for a reason.” You started, shifting the topic to the main thing that you wanted to happen. “I’m here to ask something from you.”

“I’m all ears.” He leaned on the table, intently listening to you.

“I know I haven’t been the best person to you for the past years. I’ve never let you explain, I’ve always put my pride above all. But as Jaejin’s mother, I need to ask you if…” You inhaled, scanning your insides for all sorts of confidence you would need to speak it out. “...if we could try and sort things out with the both of us. Jaejin wants a whole family, and it would kill me not to try.”

Junmyeon looked at you sincerely with his brown eyes, his gaze piercing right at your soul as he took in your request.

“So what you ask from me is…” He stopped, letting you continue for clarification.

“I ask if we could make this work. Us. What normal parents would be. I ask it for Jaejin’s sake.” You clarify, your voice breaking in a form of a plea.

“I wouldn’t do it for Jaejin.”

Junmyeon’s voice was stern and unwavering. As if he regained his energy to reject you in an instant. You breathed from your mouth as you tried to digest what he said, until he spoke again.

“I’d try, not only for Jaejin but for myself. I’d try and win you back whatever it takes. I’d willingly lose everything in doing so. I want to make this a family whole, not just because that’s what Jaejin deserves.” He paused, inhaling deeply as his hands reached yours. “But because I love you.”

A series of loud thuds banged on your chest as his words started to sink in. How could he? Why would he?

“... again?” You asked, almost in a whisper. As this wasn’t the response that you were expecting.

“Still.” He said, strong and clear. As if his words are the only thing Junmyeon holds true. “I love you, still. I never stopped. I tried distracting myself all these years but now that you’re back, and knowing that we have a child only made me realize that all of those attempts to hide the truth was futile. I’m going to try and win you back, for Jaejin, and for the reason that I’ll die if I ever let you go another time.”

You just stared at Junmyeon, no other noise nor sound was heard in the penthouse. If someone were to drop a pin, it would echo in these walls. He held his breath, admiring the silence, the moment that he never thought would happen again. The both of you existing in the same space, breathing the same air, void of any grief nor anger towards each other, and him being able to profess his love for you - again.

Junmyeon stood from his chair and made his way to the one beside yours, he now sat in front of you but with your legs touching each other. A contact meaning so much to him as he craved to gravitate towards the warmth of your body for so long. Junmyeon slowly raised his hand to cup your face, your figure still stunned in the way things led to this moment.

“This would be so selfish of me. But I just ask you this night, Y/N. Just one night, to go back in time and pretend it was us then. Please.” Junmyeon pressed his forehead into yours. “Take me back in time when you still love me as much as I love you.”

Tonight, you let yourself become human and succumb to what you wanted in that very moment. You wanted to become his - just like you used to.

The both of you woke up to the sound of your ringing phone. Junmyeon tried to hold you back down to sleep but you were persistent in answering whatever that seemed urgent. No one would ever call you this early in the morning unless it was important.

“Hello?” You sat on the bed, Junmyeon’s arm was still wrapped around your waist as he went back to slumber.

“What!?” And that loud, worried, and distressed voice of yours was enough to knock Junmyeon into senses.

Jaejin was sleeping when their car arrived in Junmyeon’s mansion. They were heavily manned, your father carrying your sleeping son as they entered the large halls.

“Where did it happen?” Junmyeon quickly interrogated the head of security that walked beside your Dad.

“We were driving to a known amusement park in Incheon when we noticed that there was a black heavily tinted car closely following us.” Your father explained as he handed the sleeping Jaejin to you, who you quickly cradled as your worry overflowed your sanity. “They cornered us at an isolated intersection, but I think they didn’t know we had security vans closely following us behind.”

“Can you send us the exact details? We need to access the security cameras around the area.” Sehun butt in the conversation.

“Dad, could this be one of your political enemies?” You asked in nervousness, you know how unforgiving these people your father is battling with in the government could be. He didn’t respond, obviously not knowing the answer himself.

With the shared stares between Junmyeon, Minseok, Sehun, and your Dad, you knew it was something that you wouldn’t dare meddle with. So you just climbed up the room and embraced Jaejin as the both of you slept. Because during times like this, you’d only be comfortable if Jaejin is safe in the warmth of your arms.

“Do you think Y/N was right? Do you remember going against anyone lately?” Junmyeon asked your father as they meet, along with each of their own security team surrounding them.

“Not as much as I could recall.” He answered as he shook his head.

They kept on repeating the CCTV footage they quickly recovered in Incheon - as both Junmyeon and your father both had their ways. There was indeed a heavily tinted black car keeping close proximity to that of your father’s, even almost colliding into them at an intersection.

But Sehun was the one who watched closely, he couldn’t be mistaken by the familiarity. He asked to zoom in one of the frames where the plates could be seen - and Sehun was right. He was disgusted at the fact that he was right.

“Hyung…” Sehun spoke over the silence that enveloped the room. “This car... it’s one of my father’s.”

#junmyeon #junmyeon imagine #junmyeon fanfic #suho #suho imagine #suho fanfic #mafia au #exo #exo imagine #exo fanfic #exo mafia #suho x reader #junmyeon x reader #kim junmyeon

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ppdoddy · 3 years

Text

Michael Moore

AN OPEN LETTER TO JOE BIDEN Dear President-Elect Biden:

First of all, congratulations! YOU did it. WE did it! You stopped the madness. A grateful nation - and myself - are in a state of joy, hope and relief. Thank you for that! We are all eager to join with you to repair the damage done to our country — and to eliminate that about our society and our politics which gave us Donald Trump in the first place.

Mr. President-Elect, I first met you at the Democratic National Convention in Boston in 2004. It was clear to me from our talk that day that you were not the politician I remembered from the 1990s. On that day in Boston, we were by then over a year into the Iraq War, a war you voted for. My “Fahrenheit 9/11“ had just come out and you wanted to let me know that you were aware of the folly you had been sucked into. It seemed to me that you were doing a lot of soul searching and you wanted to hear my thoughts. To be honest, I was distracted by how perfect your teeth were, and I wondered, could you really be from the working class? By the end of our talk I was convinced there was something that was quite real and very good about you, though perhaps somewhat buried inside. Would it ever come out so the public could see it? As I reflect today on it - and you - I am sincerely hoping that you will indeed govern as a president who’s from the working class. You - one of us - in the White House. That’s how it should feel. Your actions, if bold, and brave, will make that true.

You are also our second Catholic president. I believe you are a person of faith. You and I were taught the same lessons in Catholic school: to love our neighbor, even our enemy; to create a world where everyone regardless of status or station has a seat at the table, and everyone gets a slice of the pie; a world where “the rich man will have a harder time getting into heaven than a camel will have getting through the eye of the needle.” We were taught that we will be judged by how we treat the least amongst us. Do I have that right? Are these not the moral, foundational principles of the coming Biden presidency?

I was so moved by your victory speech Saturday night when you told the immigrants and the children of immigrants that the Dreamers no longer had to live in fear. That Muslims were once again welcomed into our country. That the world could breathe a sigh of relief because we were going to let the planet Earth itself breathe and have some relief. And you told the teachers of America that starting January 20th, “one of your own will be living in the White House.” That just felt instantly good.

So if I may, I’d like to suggest a few things that might make your presidency one of the best this country has ever had. You and I may have our political differences (you like Amtrak trains, I’d like to ride a bullet train from New York to LA in 10 hours!😎), but I know that you and I - and tens of millions of others - all want and believe in the same basic things: • Health Care is a human right and every American must be covered; • Everyone must be paid a living wage and all of us must work to eliminate poverty and rebuild our broken middle class; • The massive and growing gulf between the ultra rich and everyone else must be narrowed — and the wealthy must go back to paying the taxes they should pay; • Women must be paid the same as men, and no man or government has the right to tell them what they can do or not do with their bodies.

So here’s my two cents:

1. You are right to make containing Covid-19 Job #1. Had Trump won, I’m guessing up to a million people in the next year or so would have died from him ignoring this virus. Yesterday you named your Covid task force of doctors and scientists and you are putting them to work. We don’t have a second to lose. Thank you for this.

2. As soon as you can, please provide much more unemployment relief for the jobless, stimulus checks for all, help for small businesses, and the creation of jobs we desperately need.

3. Millions have lost their health insurance because our system ties one’s health coverage to their employer. What happens when the employer, like now, is suddenly gone, or the boss wakes up one morning and decides these employees’ health benefits are too costly and must be cut? BOOM! Millions of families suddenly have no health insurance. This is nuts.

You MUST create a health system like every other industrial democracy — one backed by the government, not by the whims of the boss where you work or the pandemic that has shut him or her down. This is just plain common sense.

4. I see various people trying to take credit for your victory — and using their personal agendas to push you away from the progressive Left and toward the cowardly center which believes that the best way to beat Republicans is to just be a more easily-digestible version of Republicans. They think because Trump got 70 million votes the Democrats should reject Black Lives Matter, AOC, and anything that vaguely sounds like socialism — at a time when the majority of our citizens under the age of 35, according to most polls, prefer the idea of democratic socialism over the greed of modern-day capitalism. Why risk losing them? We need to listen to and understand why they feel this way. They’ve been saddled with crushing student debt and we’ve handed them a planet In the middle of its 6th extinction event as their future. You and Barack introduced them to the benefits of democratic socialism by letting them stay on their parents health insurance until they’re 26! The result: They just set a record by coming out and voting for you in the largest youth numbers ever.

But you know all this. And you also know how you won these razor-thin victories in the final five states as we nervously watched the final ballots come in from Black Philly, Black Detroit, Black Atlanta, Black Flint. Out west, it was Latinx and Navajo voters who delivered Nevada and Arizona to you. In your speech on Saturday you acknowledged it. And never in our history have I heard a President-elect single out the Black community and thank them “for having my back. And I promise you, I will have your back!” Black and brown and indigenous peoples, plus a landslide of women and young adult voters made this happen. Wow. I absolutely know you’ll keep that promise.

5. Please do not make the same mistake an otherwise well-meaning President Obama made in his first two years. He wanted everyone to get along. He was willing to compromise on anything. Kumbaya. The Republicans had already decided they were going to block EVERYTHING Obama proposed and that’s exactly what they did for eight long years with a discipline and a ruthlessness we should probably envy.

Don’t let this happen to you. Charge in on January 20th like FDR on steroids. You have no choice. People are dying! You need to sign executive orders and cajole, demand and shame Congress into action. And GO BIG! Eliminate the Electoral College through the National Popular Vote Act! DONE! Ratify the Equal Rights Amendment for women! Just one more state needed! DONE! Send in the Army Corps of Engineers to Flint to replace the poisoned water pipes! DONE!!

And none of the above needs a single vote of the United States Senate! In fact, this past summer, your “Biden-Bernie” unity joint task force identified a whopping 277 policies and decisions of Trump’s that you have the legal authority to immediately reverse by executive order or presidential policy decision https://prospect.org/…/277-policies-biden-need-not-ask-per…/. Find that big fat black marker of his and do it!

But, yes, we also desperately need those two Georgia Senate seats to get the Biden/Harris years off to a blazing start. So let’s make that happen! All hands on deck between now and January 5th!! We will all do whatever is needed.

Friends of mine on the Left who are more cynical than I am are probably wondering why I’m sending you this letter. Haha! Well, because I saw you kiss the head of that young grieving man at the Parkland, Florida memorial for the shooting victims of Stoneman Douglas High School. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FyMa96yOel0

And because I saw you in New Hampshire this year while we were there working for Bernie, and you were doing a campaign stop and there was a restless five-year boy in the front row. His parents were trying to get him to settle down. You stopped and spoke to the boy. “Hey buddy,” you said in a kind but parental way, “if you can hang on and be a good boy for just a little bit, I’ll buy ya an ice cream!” The boy quieted down, you wrapped up and afterward you went over to the boy and his parents and you gave the kid five bucks so his mom and dad could go get him an ice cream cone. And I thought to myself, this is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen — and then I started to cry because I wanted so much for that piece of America to come back — goofy, kind, and focusing on what’s truly important: a goddamned ice cream cone!

I think that’s why you won. People saw what I saw with you there in New Hampshire and back in Boston on that day 16 years ago — they knew that maybe, just maybe, their lives might just get a bit better - hopefully a LOT better - with you in the White House. Maybe less of them will die from the virus, this preventable horror. Trump, of whom we knew many despicable things and thought we’d already seen how low the bar could possibly go for one human being — but we never considered him under the moniker of mass killer, terrorist or superspreader. Then you, Joe, came along and offered us a respite, a break from the insanity — “Mr. Biden, we’ll be happy if you just give us four years of ‘Not Trump!’”

But I think you can give us much more than that. What could our lives be like in four years or eight years (with a Democratic Senate to boot)? How ‘bout no one ever goes bankrupt again because they got sick? How ‘bout no one is sitting in a prison cell for possessing marijuana or actual drugs? How ‘bout every child gets to go to a great school and every neighborhood has an expanded free library open seven days a week? How ‘bout paid family medical leave so you can take care of your elderly parents and not lose your job? How ‘bout my bullet train! You and we can make all this happen. It’s not rocket science. 30+ other countries already do it. (https://www.amazon.com/Where-Invade-Next-Micha…/…/B01EGW9EOU) They’re happier. Why not us? Our founders promised it to us in their second sentence: “the pursuit of Happiness.“ They said that’s what America would be — and it’s been a rare day when we’ve actually had a glimpse of it.

Joe, you’re the guy to fulfill the promise. I’ll help. So will my neighbors on the floor where I live. As will the woman who delivers my mail, the workers who stock the shelves of my neighborhood market, the nurse who just wrote me in tears because yesterday she watched her 22nd patient die, alone, no family allowed, from Covid. Not to mention the millions upon millions of Americans who are ready to be foot soldiers in your army of justice, equality and love. We’re all in! We don’t want to go back to the old “normal.” We want a new normal!

We want ice cream.

All my best, Michael Moore

P.S. You know why I think you can and will do this? You picked Kamala Harris to run with you! Ranked as the most liberal senator in the U.S. Senate. A woman. A Black woman! I saw the first debate, the one where she challenged you and threw shade on your younger self. Most people (including me), if that had happened to us, we probably wouldn’t have gotten over it. You did. I’m guessing your conscience whispered to you, “well, dang, maybe she has a point.” You hold no grudges. You are a forgiving soul. But then you didn’t just forgive her — you put her on the Big Ticket! Who would do that? You did! That’s why my cautious, hopeful bet is on the good hands we’re now in — both your hands, Kamala’s hands, and the hands of the mass millions who voted for you and will continue to rise up and fight for this new, better, post-Trump, post-pandemic America.

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ssaori · 7 years

Note

Hi, Saori! I see you blog a lot about Sterek and I was wondering if you read fanfiction too? If yes, can you rec me some fics to read? If not, can you recommend a blog that you think recs good fics? I find your taste in Larry fics similar to mine and I was hoping you can do the same with Sterek as well. Thank you!

Oh boy, honestly I have no idea what to say, I’m just glad that not everybody’s fed up with my Sterek spams (probably a lot of people are but oh well) :D

First things first, you should check out @theofficialstereklibrary @wheredidhiseyebrowsgo @underappreciatedsterek @acountrygirlsfun @christinesficrecs @eternalsterekrecs and if you like Larry too then @nottooldforthisship recces awesome stuff all the time, (her sterek fic rec tag is a blessing) (my fic rec page is kind of a mess, but you can find some there too)

As of my recs, I usually don’t do it cuz I’m always anxious I’ll rec something the other doesn’t like, but since you asked so nicely here are some of my faves:

The Undisclosed(109k) - For once the pack doesn’t panic when a new hunter arrives. The gleefully sadistic man has labelled himself a collector of all things rare in the supernatural world and wants one of the rarest creatures; a werefox. Content that the pack is safe, the wolves focus on why their human member is acting so strange, ignoring the fact that Stiles only started once learning who the man wanted…

I’ve read this like, how many times? Way too many to be healthy? Seems accurate. And I’m totally not re-reading it again, nope.

Baking My Way Into Your Heart(179k) - Derek is an uptight college student, all work and no play. His carefully scheduled life is thrown kilter when his regular barista is replaced with someone new.

This fic changed my life tbh.

As Luck WouldHave It (I’m already smitten)(188k, WIP) - When Stiles meets his Dom for the first time, it’s nothing like the cutesy, lovey-dovey Subflicks he used to drag Scott to when they were thirteen. There’s no burst of sunshine when they collide, no sudden swell of violins when their eyes meet; only a really big dent in the front of his Jeep and a seriously pissed off Alpha glaring at him from the sidewalk.

When I see the e-mail I shut down and don’t even look up until I finished reading the update. It’s by far the most exciting fic I’ve read, and I read A LOT.

Do Not Go Gentle(108k, WIP) - Derek Hale, Beacon Hills Alpha, is thrown into a dark cell which already contains another captive. Someone quite young. Someone who’s clearly been badly treated. Someone who cannot speak and who has a cruel collar around his neck.Derek is both a Dom and an Alpha. What do you think he’ll do?

Same with this. Mondays can’t come fast enough. Dark, but worth it for me.

Home(160k, WIP) - January seventh. Seven days since the start of 2015, and seven days since his father’s death.The bastard, he thinks bitterly. The past year Derek Hale had made it blatantly obvious that he hated his scrawny guts, taking every given opportunity to shove him up against a wall, growl threats in his ears and roll his eyes whenever he stepped into the room, muttering some snide comment about how spastic or idiotic he was.So why did he fucking volunteer to take him in?

You can’t even imagine what this fic does to me. It’s everything.

Once Bitten(183k) - Stiles gets bitten by a werefox that’s running loose on Hale lands.The pack helps him deal with his new were status while searching for the fox who bit him in hopes of reversing the bite. But is the werefox really their biggest problem?

My favorite trope in this fandom is fox!Stiles and we need more of it.

Werewolf-Friendly(27k) - Derek is a junior in college, never could get the hang of social interaction, and is, you know, a werewolf. A werewolf and a virgin. And it isn’t like anyone is banging down his door to hop on his werewolf dick, save for the few pervs who acted like he was some kind of exotic toy to be played with and experienced. So, when he sees Stiles’ ad on Hot Men 4 Rent, Derek is… interested. And who is he kidding, he’s read that bio every day since that sad evening with the chocolate chip cookies, and has every facet of it memorized. Stiles, no last name. Eighteen. Student. Good conversationalist. Likes to crack jokes. Fan of junk food but enjoys running. Werewolf-friendly. Werewolf-friendly. And there is his phone number and an email address. Plus all the moles.

This was actually the reason I didn’t give up on Sterek after some stuff in the fandom. And it’s awesome and hot, so. :D

Run Little Red Fox (18k) - Fox!Stiles. Living on the run might not have been the best way to survive, but when you’re a Werefox with no family and no friends, what other choice do you have? Narrowly escaping hunters, getting mixed up in a war with alphas, Stiles is positive that life is out to get him. The weird vet is convinced that Stiles will be able to help defeat the alphas and protect the pack, but what can one injured Werefox do against a pack of murdering alphas?

Yeah, so I love this fic a lot and I need to re-read it, excuse me!

Not French but probably a mistake(8k) (you need to have an acc for this) - A witch’s curse sends Derek into a parallel universe where his life is a TV show. At first, Derek thinks he’s lucky Stiles got sent into this universe with him. He’s a little confused when Stiles starts kissing him furiously.Dylan isn’t sure why his boyfriend is acting so shy all of a sudden. It’s kinda cute. And he’s totally down to roleplay Sterek again, that’s always hot.

I’m a sucker for everything bleep0bleep does, plus French Mistake is my everything, so bear with me when I say READ THIS!!

Can’trely on me(116k) - Set at the end of season 2, Gerard beats Stiles up, but it’s a lot worse than anyone knows. The pack let him down, that’s not really a surprise lately.When Danny finds Stiles nearly bleeding to death the next day it’s the start of a beautiful friendship.Can the pack make amends before it’s too late? Will Stiles ever forgive them for not being there for him when he needed them the most?

This fic is so good. So good! I only didn’t like the ending but otherwise ohmygod.

Kiss Of Life (ThisSweet Pool is Everblue)(7k) - (Canon-AU for 2x04) “Yeah, kiss of life, d'you want me to say it in another language, Derek? Latin would be cool but I’m still not fluent yet so how about Spanish? Spanish worked on Jackson before. Beso de vida.“In which: Scott isn’t even lethally late—he simply doesn’t show up at all. Stiles does the saving and things railroad from there.

If you’ve seen the show you know this should have happened. YOU KNOW IT.

Anteocularis(19k) - Allison meets a strange deer in the forest. Derek may have found someone who can match his level of bullshit. Stiles is running from a murderer. Pack-feels and cross-species bonding.

I know, I know, but give it a try I promise it’s worth it :D Sassy deer!Stiles, who needs more?

Strike Softly (Awayfrom the Body)(35k) - Derek is a bodyguard and Stiles his spoiled, resistant client.

A bit fun, a bit dark but sooooo good!!

Youwon’t have to reach out for me (6k) - Stiles is having trouble holding himself together and he’d do anything to have Derek’s hand on him again–needs the relief like he needs oxygen, maybe more–which is exactly why he can’t let Derek touch him. Because Stiles knows Derek, knows exactly where he ranks his own pain in terms of importance, and he knows that Derek would ignore the pain completely if it meant giving Stiles something he needed. Stiles refuses be a source of pain for Derek–there are too many other people lining up to do the job–so he makes sure to hold himself at a safe distance.

It’s painful and beautiful!!

In Case TheDaylight Never Comes(82k) - There’s a relentless dark shape tearing through the pack and that’s only the half of it. Stiles just wants to sleep and stop being haunted by the faces of his night-time tormentors. His dad thinks he’s suffering from post-traumatic stress, Scott thinks he’s suffering the after-effects of the ritual; Stiles thinks they’re both reasonable theories, except for the part where Derek Hale is the only thing that can take his nightmares away and it seems that fact is no coincidence.

It’s very dark, so if you’re not into that kind of stuff… but otherwise excellent piece of work!

(I’m sorry I didn’t include the authors but that would have been taken even longer, but I send my love to all of them a lot, there are so many fics I love, but let’s not do this again, please. :D Have fun reading!

#fic rec #oh my god this took forever #thank you for coming for me #but #I'm really not the person for this #I'm sorry #anon #sterek rec #to keep

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