#i stayed awake until 5am for this man ok. what about it

[first-blight]

Eden Ryder, we are so back

[joonie-beanie]

The Demon Brothers + their reaction to you having a nightmare

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Lucifer:

Is surprised to hear a knock at his door a little past one AM. He’s still up going over documents for RAD, and doesn’t bother looking up

“Come in,” he says simply, too tired to be mad at whoever is interrupting him at this late hour

He hears the door open, but no one greets him. After a moment, he finally looks up and finds you standing there--shyly clinging to the door frame

You’re dressed in your pajamas, bottom lip caught between your teeth

Lucifer is immediately concerned, all of his attention shifting to you.

It’s not like you haven’t paid him late night visits before to check on him when he’s working, but this time something is clearly amiss.

“Y/N, come here.” He holds out a hand, beckoning you closer, and you finally enter his room--the door clicking closed behind you.

Once at his side, Lucifer takes your hand and presses to his feet. He hooks his other hand gently beneath your chin--flashing you a tender smile as you meet his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I...it’s stupid,” you mumble, but when Lucifer only stares patiently.

You sigh and continue. “I had a nightmare...”

Knowing you, Lucifer bets that you’re feeling childish for seeking him out, but he cannot blame you. As powerful as he is, it’s not like he hasn’t been afflicted by bad dreams.

“Would you care to stay with me, tonight?”

You glance up at him, and he sees the relief in your gaze. Nodding--too shaken up to think about saying no to company--and lean into him, and Lucifer immediately sweeps you off to his bed.

“Sleep,” he speaks against your hair, pressing a kiss to your head, and you nod. With Lucifer nearby, you’re not scared to go back to sleep.

You spend the night safely in his arms--with his warmth on your back--and no more nightmares plague you.

Mammon:

Happens to pass by the library at 5am, because man that was a long ass night at the club, and sees you huddled by the fireplace.

He immediately pauses because uhhhhh...it’s Saturday. Why the fuck are you awake at 5am?

“Oi,” he greets as he walks into the room, catching your attention.

He can tell that you’ve barely slept--dark circles beginning to form under your eyes.

“Why the hell are you up?”

You muster up a small smile, your legs still tucked to your chest. You’ve managed to drape yourself in a soft blanket, and Mammon can only guess that you’ve been here for a while.

“I, um...had a bad dream.”

Mammon frowns, not liking that your brain decided to make you scared for no good reason.

Is it possible to fight a brain?

“How long ya been up for?”

“Since 1,” you admit, laughing softly. You’re exhausted.

Despite being a little hungover, Mammon can’t stand for this. It’s only 5AM--you’ve still got a chance at getting some good sleep! After all, it’s the weekend!

“Come to bed with me,” he mumbles--his cheeks pink as he sheepishly rubs at his neck. “I’ll make sure no more bad dreams come your way...”

Your eyes widen in surprise, but after a moment, you press to your feet and Mammon is quick to take your hand.

He sheepishly leads you to his room, grumbling about how he doesn’t necessarily care about you and your dreams until the moment his head hits the pillow on his bed.

Then he finally shuts up.

By the time you both wake up that day--snuggled together beneath Mammon’s sheets--it’s already afternoon.

Levi:

He’s a light sleeper--so he jumps awake the moment his door clicks open

Startled, he flings himself into a seated position--wide eyes sliding to look at the door

When he sees you standing there, his brain pauses. He figured it would be Mammon trying to break in and steal his stuff.

“I...,” you can see how you’d made him jump, and immediately feel horrible. “Sorry, I can just--”

You start to back out into the hall, and Levi quickly reaches out his hand as if to stop you.

“No! N-No, you can stay. I just...you surprised me.”

Nodding, you step back into his room, and he regards you curiously. You...seem a little...off

“Are you okay?” he finally asks, sitting cross-legged in the tub as he stares at you. You avoid his gaze.

Levi is suddenly reminded of one of his shoujo games, but he pushes that thought to the back of his head.

“I had a nightmare, and...I don’t know, I guess I just ended up...here.”

The demon tries to ignore the way his heart goes doki doki. Luckily, he’s more concerned for you than he is flustered over your comment.

“I-I mean...you can stay here, if you want.” His eyes fall to the mess of pillows and blankets in his tub. “I don’t know if it will be weird, since this is the only bed, but...”

You smile at him, and he can see the remnants of fear etched into your face. “As long as you’re ok with it.”

Levi nods, and within seconds, you’ve climbed into the tub.

Levi decides to sleep with his back to you (because how much space is he supposed to give you?? Will you be bothered with him so close?? He’s not prepared for this kind of situation at 3am!!)

However, by the time morning rolls around, he’s managed to entangle his limbs with your own--his arms around your waist, and his tail slung securely over your hip.

If you notice his clinginess in your sleep, you clearly don’t mind. 

Satan: 

Legitimately opens his door the moment you intend to knock--and you both startle

As you drop your hand to your side and struggle to find your words, Satan regards you with scrutiny

Satan, for one, is confused and concerned at your appearance. It’s nearly 2am. He’d gotten wrapped up in reading, but you have no reason to be up this late.

“Is everything okay?” he ends up asking when you don’t speak. 

When you look up at him, your eyes are like that of a scared puppy dog, and he feels something tug at his heart.

“I...had a nightmare. I saw the light on under your door, and...”

You glance to the side, and Satan suddenly understands why you’re acting all guilty. However, it’s not like you’re imposing.

“Why don’t you come in?” he asks with a smile, hoping to ease some of your worries. “I’m not much company, but I’d be more than happy to be in yours.”

At his words, and tiny smile lights up your face, and he sees a bit of the remnants of fear dissipate from your eyes.

“Thank you, Satan.”

Once inside, he invites you to take the bed--letting you know that if you fall asleep, it’s no big deal.

You’re determined to not fall asleep and hog his bed, but...after about half an hour, Satan looks up from his book and finds you passed out beneath the covers.

Breathing a laugh, he closes his book, and moves to the edge of the bed--regarding you for a moment. Then, he carefully maneuvers himself to join you--one hand moving to wrap around your waist.

He feels your body relax against him and, for once, Satan feels at peace as well.

Asmo:

Is walking to his room one night when he passes your door and hears a little strangled cry from inside

Immediately concerned, he knocks on your door, and enters your room when he doesn’t get a response.

He finds you in bed, thrashing around. Your eyes are squeezed closed--sweat beading on your brow--and he knows you’re having a nightmare.

“Y/N--wake up,” he gently rocks your shoulder back and forth--reaching out to hold you when you shoot awake--chest heaving.

“Wha--Asmo?” 

Once you realize it’s him--the Avatar of Lust hugging you softly and cooing reassurances into your ear--you instantly cling to him

As you ground yourself, Asmo seats himself on your bed and curls you into his lap--his hand petting against your hair as you calm down.

“Asmo, I...” your weak voice breaches the silence after a few minutes, and Asmodeus can hear the unsaid plea in your voice.

“Would it be okay if I stayed with you tonight?” he questions sweetly, asking so that you don’t have to. “I just don’t feel right leaving you alone.”

“Sure,” you respond with a nod and smile, and Asmo dedicates himself to putting you back to bed.

He tucks you in and brushes your hair out of your eyes, and when you grab his shirt--seeking more comfort--he curls up in front of you so your forehead and knees knock together

Between your bodies, he slots his fingers against yours.

“If you have anymore bad dreams, I’ll fight them, okay? Pretty humans having bad dreams is not allowed!”

That gets you giggling, and he presses a sweet kiss between your brows.

“Now~ No more thinking, just sleeping.”

And, as if his words are magic, you’re out within minutes.

Of course, Asmodeus stays with you--snuggled in bed--the entire night.

Beel:

Some days, his stomach wakes him up in search of a 3AM snack, and today is one of those days.

Dressed in his pajamas and still half asleep, he makes his way to the kitchen--pausing in surprise when he sees someone sat on the kitchen counter.

After a moment, he realizes that it’s you--nursing a glass a water, and staring blankly at the wall.

Beel frowns with worry. “Y/N?”

His voice startles you out of your thoughts--quite literally causing you to gasp, and jump. Your head whips towards him, fear in your eyes, and you lift to press a hand against your heart when you realize it’s only him.

“Are you okay?” he immediately asks, making his way to your side. It’s clear that something is wrong.

He gingerly raises his large hand to cup one of your cheeks, his heart cracking a little when you instinctively flinch away. Thankfully, after a second, you sigh into his touch--your hand lifting to cover his.

“I had a bad dream.”

Beel nods in understanding, because he knows how shitty it can be when your brain plagues you with a nightmare. 

“Here,” he walks over to the fridge, and pulls out a tub of ice cream--snatching two spoons from the cupboard on his way back to you. “This will help.”

You giggle, leaning against him and taking a spoon when he hops up on the counter beside you.

Since Beel’s appetite is much bigger, he gets a little lost in devouring the dessert. He’s not sure how much time has passed, but at some point, he pauses and looks over to find that you’re asleep against his shoulder.

Carefully, he leans over and curls you into his strong arms--making his way back towards his bedroom. 

Tonight, you’re saying with him. He’s sure he’ll keep the bad dreams from coming back (and besides, he just really wants to hold you).

Belphie:

Since Belphie’s sleeping schedule is basically ass-backwards, he tends to go to bed just after his brothers and you have left for RAD.

He’s used to having the house to himself--complete peace and quiet--so when he walks past the lounge and finds you tucked into a chair near the fireplace, he pauses.

You’re nursing a mug of coffee between your palms--dark bags hanging beneath your eyes.

“Why are you here?” he asks, walking up beside you. His first question was honestly “why do you look like shit”, but that seems a little mean. Especially considering you...unfortunately look like shit.

“I had a nightmare, and couldn’t get back to sleep,” you sigh, not turning to look at him. “I’ve been up since 2.”

“You should have come and found me,” he blinks. “You know I’m up that late.”

“Yeah, but...,” you fingers curl tighter around the mug. “It just a stupid dream. I didn’t want to be a bother...”

Belphie frowns. He wants you to be able to rely on him--to let him be there for you when you need someone.

You pause as he grabs the mug from your hand and sets it aside.

“C’mon,” he says, grabbing your wrist and tugging you to your feet. He slots his fingers through your own, gripping tightly, and you glance up at him as he starts leading you through the halls.

“Belphie?”

“I’m going to bed anyway, so sleep with me. You need rest.”

“But--I was planning on going to RAD later--”

“Taking care of yourself is more important.” His words leave no room for argument, and you fall silent. Moments later, you find yourself beneath the warm sheets of Belphie’s bed--his arms wrapped tightly around your middle.

“Is this okay?” he mumbles, and you nod--your eyelids already drooping. Within minutes, you’re fast asleep, and Belphie joins you soon after.

He’s right, sleep (especially when it’s in his arms) is way better than school.

[The Undateables Reactions]

[hangovercurse]

Crash Into Me

You’d been MGK’s assistant for years, but you never thought you had a chance at anything more with him until one stoplight changes everything.

Request: “ok im so sorry if this is 2 specific but ive had this idea for ages abt pining!colson x an insecure/clueless!reader who has been his assistant forever. she gets into a car accident and calls him hours later to tell him that a temp will be taking her place for a few weeks (bc of injuries) and he's like ?? why?? she explains nonchalantly, then kells kinda freaks out and shows up at the hospital all worried”

Colson Baker X Reader

Warnings: Cursing, car accident (descriptive)

A/N: This was cute 😊

Word Count: 3185

“Alright Kells, I’m out for the night. I’ll email those tracks to the board when I get home and I’ll let you know if I get any updates for tomorrow’s press.” You told the blond man who was sitting on the couch as you put your laptop into your bag. You tried not to yawn as you heaved it over your shoulder, “anything else?”

You glanced at the kitchen clock that read 2 am and let out a small sigh. You were used to late nights given your job as assistant to a rockstar, but most nights you were able to leave before 8 pm. Tonight you and Colson had gotten really invested in the tracks you were editing and lost track of time.

“Y/N,” he turned to look at you with puppy dog eyes. He wanted something that you really weren’t gonna want to give him. “Could you come over early tomorrow to help me pick out what to wear for the Vanity Fair interview?”

You chuckled, “you know they have their own wardrobe department?”

He sighed, “yeah but you know me so much better than all those stylists. I trust your opinion more.”

You rolled your eyes as he tilted his head, begging you. “Fine, but I’m buying us coffee with your credit card.”

He broke out into a smile, “thank you, love you!” He called as you walked towards his front door.

“Whatever, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You told him, taking your car keys into your hands, and stepping out into the LA night. There was a soft breeze that shook the trees slightly, making you smile. It felt nice outside for the first time in a while.

Because of this, you decided to drive home with your windows rolled down, letting the wind flow through your hair. The roads were pretty barren by LA standards, so traffic was pretty much non-existent. You were sitting at a red light, your fingers tapping against your steering wheel as one of Colson’s songs played through your speakers softly.

You reached to turn up the volume as the light turned green. You pressed the gas, your car moving forward into the intersection. Suddenly you heard a loud squeal of brakes, looking over to your passenger window to the sight of two headlights barreling towards you. You tried to speed up to get out of the way, but it was too late.

The truck rammed straight into the side of your small car, pushing your vehicle over into the car next to you. You put your left arm up to shield you from any flying debris, but it was futile. The infrastructure of your car fell apart at the force, the dashboard collapsing onto your right leg. Luckily, your left leg managed to avoid the destruction.

You could barely feel the force of the whiplash due to the pain in your abdomen at the deployment of the airbag. Glass from the car next to you fell into your car through your open window, cutting into your skin.

And then all of a sudden, everything stopped. The truck that had hit you had stopped moving, allowing you to fully assess the damage. Your car was totaled for sure, and your leg was definitely crushed. You cried out in pain, breathing heavy and trying to see straight. You could hear the sound of sirens in the distance, giving you some sense of relief.

When the paramedics got to the scene, you were the last passenger to be taken out of the crash due to your car being in the center. A firefighter had to break the glass of your windshield, which was already cracked, in order to pull you out. When you told him your leg was stuck under the dashboard, he sent a team of men to lift it from your foot and another to pull you out of the wreckage.

They were all amazed you were still conscious but got very worried when you told them you couldn’t feel the pain in your leg. You rode in an ambulance to the hospital, the EMTs helping pick the glass from your skin and assessing your injuries. You made jokes with them to calm yourself down, something that you did with Colson and Rook whenever they got into accidents while you were out with them.

You thought about giving them Colson’s name when they asked about your emergency contact but decided against it. You didn’t want to worry him until absolutely necessary. You figured you’d see what the doctor had to say and if you wouldn’t be able to come back to work, then you would tell him.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly what the doctor said. In fact, you wouldn’t be able to leave the hospital for at least a week due to your shattered leg, bruised abdomen, and concussion.

The leg would require at least 2 if not more surgeries to repair and you would be on close watch for development of a more serious brain injury. After that you most likely wouldn’t be able to be back on your feet for another 8 to 12 weeks, which was kind of a requirement for your job.

It was almost 5am, so you weren’t necessarily thinking straight when you called Colson from your cracked phone. He answered, his voice conveying how tired he was. “Y/N? Everything okay?”

“Hey Kells, I’m not gonna be able to come in early tomorrow, or at all. I’m gonna start looking for a temporary replacement tomorrow if I’m feeling up to it. Oh! And I couldn’t send those tracks to the board, sorry.” You told him, only half registering the words you were saying.

The confusion was evident in his voice, “what? Why do you need to find a replacement?”

You realized you had forgotten to tell him what happened. “Oh, yeah! It’s kind of funny.” You started, chuckling but then realizing that laughing made your stomach hurt even more. “And by funny, I mean not funny at all. I got into a car accident. Some dude ran into my car in an intersection and now I’m in the hospital.”  

“Which hospital?” Colson asked, suddenly much more awake.

“Hollywood Presbyterian.” You told him, “why?”

He sounded like he was rushing around, which he was. “I’m coming to see you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, “why? I’m fine, you don’t need to do that. You have a big interview tomorrow, you should sleep.”

Colson sighed, “fuck the interview, I’ll be there in a few.”

“Colson you don’t-“ You started, but he hung up before you could tell him not to come.

Why was he rushing to see you in the hospital? Sure, you were friends, but he had much more important things to worry about right now. And besides, you were more casual work friends. He wouldn’t even know you existed if you didn’t work for him. Sure, you had a huge crush on him, but he was your boss, you were just someone he asked to do things he didn’t want to do.

 20 minutes later Colson ran into the hospital room, stopping when he saw you in the bed. Your face was red from chemical burn and a few cuts of glass. Your right leg was propped up with basic bandaging around it. His heart broke at the thought of how much pain you had probably been in.

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly, moving to sit in the chair on your left side.

You shrugged, “I’ve been better.”

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?” He asked, eyes full of pity.

“I didn’t want to bother you unless it was serious. Figured I’d find out if I would have to miss work before telling you.” You said, squeezing your eyes shut as a headache washed over you.

Colson’s mouth gaped open, “you didn’t want to bother me? You got in a car crash and you weren’t gonna call me unless you would have to miss work?”

You shrugged again, “yeah. If my laptop wasn’t completely crushed in the accident I would’ve just found and sent a temp in tomorrow, but obviously that’s impossible.”

“Y/N you’re kidding me, right?” He asked, exasperated. You furrowed your eyebrows in response, causing a sigh to fall from his lips. “Y/N I don’t give a shit about a temp; I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh, I’m fine. A little shaken and these headaches are killer, but they gave me a lot of pain medication so, I’m fine.” You smiled at him, your thoughts racing as you tried to figure out why he cared so much about how you were feeling.

He nodded, hand reaching out and landing on top of yours gently. “So, do they have to do surgery? What all did the doctors say?” He asked, worry in his eyes.

You nodded, “yeah, at least 2 surgeries. One around 11 am and then depending on how that one goes they’ll schedule the next. And they have to watch me to make sure my concussion doesn’t get worse.”

He pulled out his phone, typing away. “What are you doing?” You asked, suddenly feeling very tired.

“I just emailed the PR liaison for Vanity Fair and told them I wouldn’t be able to make it to the interview.” He responded.

“Why did you do that?” You asked through a yawn.

He looked at you like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world, “because I have to be with you right now.”

You were very confused as to why he thought he had to be here. “Colson, I’ll be fine. You should go to the interview. You don’t have to stay here.”

“I do have to be here. I want to be here.” He said, sternly.

“Why?” You asked, trying to keep your eyes open.

“Because I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll just call you after the surgery, it’s no big deal.” You responded lazily.

He shook his head, “I want to stay here with you, Y/N. Okay? I care about you.”

You were too tired to process what he was saying at this point, so you just let out a hum. “I need to make sure you’re okay. I need to see you being okay. When you called me, I swear I was gonna have a heart attack if I didn’t see you.” He continued.

You were barely awake at this point, letting out a simple, “I’m okay” before slipping into unconsciousness.

 Suddenly you were back in your car, “Bloody Valentine” playing from your speakers. The sky was dark green, almost like a painting. In front of you, the red light turned green. Like clockwork, you pressed the gas, moving into the intersection. Suddenly, the lights disappeared, and you heard the familiar chilling sound of breaks squealing. You looked over and saw those headlights coming towards you, getting closer and closer, brighter, and brighter.

You screamed at the sight, the familiar paralyzing fear coursing through your body again. “Y/N!” Your name played through the radio. That’s not in the song, you thought. “Y/N!” Colson’s voice rang out again before the truck made contact with your car.

You woke up in a cold sweat to Colson standing over you, hands shaking your shoulders lightly. “Y/N.” He said, relieved when your eyes began to open.

Your entire body was shaking like a poodle and your arms subconsciously reached for Colson, hanging onto his shirt for dear life. “It was just a dream.” He whispered as your eyes darted around the room. “You’re okay.” He reassured you.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, hands leaving the fabric and moving to cover up your face. “I’m sorry.”

Colson sat on the bed next to you, legs hanging off the side as he stroked your face gently. “It’s okay, baby.” He turned to the nurse who opened the door, a worried expression on her face. He shook his head at her, “sorry, she just had a nightmare. She’s okay.” The nurse nodded but stayed in the room anyways, checking your vitals.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled again, the words seeming to be the only thing you could say.

Colson shook his head, “stop saying that, it’s okay.” You pouted at him, trying to scoot over so he would lay down next to you, but it was way too painful. “What are you doin?” He asked, a smile on his face.

You sighed, “wanted you to sit next to me but I can’t move because of this stupid leg.” You motioned to the leg in question.

Colson chuckled, “I can sit next to you in the chair.”

“That didn’t work last time.” You whined.

He looked at you with an expression that was both amused and confused. You were definitely still high on pain medication. “What didn’t work.”

“It didn’t stop the nightmare.” You frowned, hand reaching for his. He chuckled, standing up fully and looking at the nurse.

She flashed him an amused smile, “If you want, we can try to move her. I don’t know how much we can do without hurting her ribs, though.”

Colson nodded with a gracious smile, “hear that? We can’t move you because of your ribs.”

You glared at him, “I may be very high right now, but I’m not that high.” You said, making him giggle. “She said you could try.”

Colson let out an exasperated sigh, one arm going under your back and the other under your left leg. “Is this what it’s like taking care of me all the time?” He asked and you nodded your head firmly.

“Yep. Except I am much smaller than you, so you have less work to do with me.” You smiled as he lifted you off the bed, which quickly turned into a grimace. “Ow!” You yelped and Colson quickly set you down, slightly closer to the right side of the bed.

“Fuck, sorry princess. Are you okay?” He asked, voice soft.

You nodded, sucking in your bottom lip to block the whimpers of pain that threatened to escape your mouth. “You probably don’t remember, but one time you were so crossed that you called me to pick you up from a party. But you couldn’t make it out of the car, so I had to carry you into your house. And then you demanded to sleep in your own room, so you made me drag you up the stairs instead of passing out on the couch like normal.”

Colson let out a breathy chuckle, glad you weren’t hurt too much. He carefully sat onto the cot next to you, pulling up his right leg to sit on the bed. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into him slightly. You shifted so that you were comfortable, left hand finding his own left hand and holding it. He brought his left leg up onto the bed so he was fully laying with you.

Your head rest on his chest, a soft smile on your face as his thumb rubbed circles on your hand. The nurse left, satisfied that you wouldn’t hurt yourself further. Colson pressed a small kiss to the top of your head, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

“What time is it?” You asked him, to which he responded by pulling out his phone and showing you the lock screen. 8:47am. You nodded, a frown on your face, “did you get any sleep?” You asked him softly.

“I’m fine, I was asleep for a few hours before you called me.”

You sighed, feeling guilty. “You should go home and get some sleep.”

You felt him shake his head from behind you, “I’m staying right here.”

Despite wanting to force him to go home, you couldn’t help the happiness you felt at his stubbornness to stay with you. “You know you don’t need to be here. I won’t be offended if you leave.”

He chuckled, “stop trying to get me to leave. I’m here. On my own accord, okay? I’m gonna take care of you.”

You paused, thinking about the word floating around your head. “Why?” you whispered.

Colson’s face scrunched in confusion, “what do you mean “why”? Because you’re my friend and I care about you.”

“I mean, yeah. But I’m not like a “drop everything” kind of friend, I’m just your assistant.” You muttered.

Colson made an “are-you-serious?” face and let out a snort. “Seriously? You are so much more than you give yourself credit for. You mean the world to me, of course I’d drop everything for you.”

You couldn’t think of a response, his words making your heart race. “oh.” Was the best you could come up with.

“Y/N, seriously, you think way too low of yourself. You’re amazing.” He said, nose burying into your hair.

You shrugged, “you only say that because I take care of you when you’re drunk and help you do all the things you don’t want to do.”

Colson’s expression softened, a frown forming on his face. “I’m saying that because I think the world of you. You’re the kindest, funniest, coolest person I know. I meant it, when you told me you were in the hospital, my heart almost stopped. I felt sick to my stomach just thinking about you being hurt.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I wish you could see how much you mean to me.” He mumbled.

You were quiet for a little while, processing what he had said. “You’re only saying that because I’m in the hospital.” You muttered, a frown on your face. You were trying to keep your hopes low, knowing once you were out of here, he would regret saying any of this.

“Y/N, are you being serious right now? I’m saying this because I’ve been fucking in love with you for the past year and a half.” He said and you could feel your breath catch in your throat. “I can’t believe you don’t see it.”

You bit your lip, turning to look up to him. “I just- I didn’t want- you wouldn’t.” You stumbled over your words, taking a deep breath, and starting again. “I didn’t want to read too much into it or get my hopes up. I figured you’d never be into someone like me so I just told myself you were being nice. I thought you only treated me well because I worked for you.” You mumbled.

He frowned, holding you tighter to him, “I am so, so into you. You are the only woman in my life who has ever stuck by me through my worst shit. Like even when I was a total jackass you stayed with me. How could I not fall in love with you?”

You bit your lip, tears threatening to spill at his sweet sentiment. You’d never had anyone say something that kind about you. You’d always assumed people only kept you around because you did stuff for them, but here was the man you were in love with telling you that he cared about you for you.

“I love you too.” You whispered, leaning your head further into his chest.

[sambergscott]

your son is going to love you

Summary: Peralta dads are cursed, destined to have terrible relationships with their sons. When Jake finds out *he's* going to have a son, he spirals. Amy helps.

goes without saying that if you haven’t watched 7x10 yet maybe don’t read this

She wakes up at 2am needing to pee.

She’s been waking up needing to pee a lot lately.

It’s like their baby has no respect for her sleeping pattern, perfectly honed over the years to maximise productivity, while still fitting in the full 8 hours of sleep needed a day. Their baby doesn’t care about the 8 hour recommendation, he laughs in the face of scientists. With the bad back and heart burn and constant kick, kick, kicking of her bladder, she’s averaging 4.7. She thought babies didn’t start keeping you up all night until they were born but, oh, how wrong she was.

She pats her husband to wake him up and come keep her company. If she’s awake because of their baby, then damn it, he’s going to be awake, too. But he’s not there, leaving her hand awkwardly patting a bare mattress.

“Jake?” She murmurs groggily, sitting up and switching on her bedside lamp. She’s half-expecting him to be sitting in the armchair playing Mario Party on his Switch (he has become a little bit addicted in the last few months and it wouldn’t be the first time she’s found him trying to beat Wario in the early hours of the morning) or have left a note beside her bed that he had a lead on a case and needed to go in with a scribbled ‘love you’ underneath and a lopsided heart. The armchair is empty, but there’s a light on down the hall and since there’s no way she forgot to turn it off before bed (she triple checks), she figures that it must be Jake.

Forgetting the whole reason why she woke up in the first place, she grabs Jake’s hoodie from the floor for warmth and pads into their living-kitchen-dining area. It’s the open plan-ness that made her fall in love with the apartment upon first visit and submit all her paperwork as soon as she was out the door. It’s the open plan-ness that would make the Property Brothers proud and the dumb people who go on that show foam at the mouth with jealousy. It’s the open plan-ness that allows her to see her husband straight away, snacking on the unfinished party food.

(Apparently people don’t feel like eating after a man cuts his thumb off and spurts blood everywhere. Who’d have thought?)

There’s a weird, pensive look on his face that draws her towards him.

“You OK, babe?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he responds. He pops a tomato from the salad bowl in his mouth, then another, then another.

She narrows her eyes. He never eats tomatoes unless they’re in ketchup or on top of a famous Sal’s pizza. Something is wrong.

She thinks back on their day, mentally rewinding the events from waking up to the morning briefing to their private sex reveal in the break room and finding out they’re having a boy (the empty cake box and blue frosting around Scully’s mouth was very surprising indeed). They were both floating on Cloud 9 all afternoon, came home and Zoomed the entire family, falling asleep on the couch around 9.30pm because pregnancy is exhausting.

Nothing particularly awful stands out.

Unless...

“Are you thinking about your Grandpa?”

He’d been so excited to see him again, so excited to reunite Walter Peralta  with Roger, The Admiral with the Captain. To be honest, Amy was less than impressed. He’d been nice enough to her, asked her about her job, about the baby, small talked about the weather. But he never asked her about Jake, probed about the 20 odd years of his grandson’s life that he’d missed out on. Which is frustrating because she has a lot of embarrassing stories ready to tell and a whole photo album of Jake on her phone. He couldn’t care less about Roger or Jake, storming out of the sex reveal party after calling his son a screw up and turning off his phone so they couldn’t get in contact with him. He’s a selfish dick and her husband deserves better. Still, he won’t be thinking about what a monster Walter turned out to be, he’ll be finding ways to blame himself that yet another father walked out of his life again.

He nods silently and she leads him to the couch.

“Talk to me, Jake.”

He releases a shaky breath. “The Peralta’s are cursed.”

“With devastatingly handsome good looks?” She half-jokes, trying to lighten the mood. Because, hello, her husband is hot; she constantly overhears other women in the precinct talking about his glow up and it would be impossible to ignore the female attention he gets in bars and even just walking down the street before he scratches his face to show off his wedding band and wraps one arm proudly around his wife’s shoulders. She’s seen the pictures of a young Roger Peralta, too, and with that charm smile... she gets it.

“Thank you,” he smiles briefly, “but no. Peralta dads are cursed with terrible relationships with their sons.”

“That’s not going to be you,” she says without hesitation, without a shred of doubt.

“How do you know?” He launches into a scathing personal indictment that leaves his cheeks stinging with tears. “I’m immature, obsessed with my work, messy, always late. My dad was never around when I was a kid. I don’t even know what dads do with their sons! And what if it’s in my genes? To be a crappy dad, abandon my kid like a dozen Peralta fathers before me. Your parents still don’t think I’m good enough. You didn’t even like me at first. It only makes sense that our baby would hate me, too.”

“Woah, babe. Slow down. Let’s unpack that one at a time.” She wipes away his tears with his hoodie sleeve and squeezes his hand. “First of all, you are way more mature now than you used to be. We bought a family friendly Sedan. You read parenting books. You were eating fruit, like, two minutes ago.”

“Tomatoes are fruits?”

“What? Yes, how do you not - not the point.” She shakes her head. “And so what, you enjoy your job. That’s a good thing, Jake! Do you understand how rare that is? You’re doing the thing you love while providing a decent income for our family. And besides, I’m way more obsessed than you. I have FOMOW, but that doesn’t mean I won’t love our kid more than anything. And as for the messy, late thing, if I can look past it because of how much I love you, so will our son.”

“Love you, too,” he mumbles.

“Now onto your point about not knowing what dads do, that is a straight up lie and we both know it, Peralta. You’re always hanging out with Charles and Nikolaj and Lord Knows Terry doesn’t shut up about all the activities he does with his girls.”

“I know what they do when I’m around, but what do you do when it’s 5am and they won’t go back to sleep?” He frets. “At what age do you introduce them to Die Hard? In Cry Hard With A Vengeance,” he quotes the parenting book she originally bought him as a joke but has kind of become his Torah, “Bruce Willis says right away, but what if he’s not ready to understand the complex plots? What if he prefers Timothy Olyphant to William Atherton? Oh my God, what if our son doesn’t think Die Hard is a Christmas movie?”

He’s spiralling and it’s a good job he’s with the only person who can truly calm him down.

“I think Bruce Willis is just trying to promote his franchise and that we’ll be watching more Paw Patrol than Die Hard for the next few years, babe, but I’m sure when he is old enough, he will love the movies as much as you.”

“Right,” he agrees, “you’re totally right. Action thrillers aren’t very baby friendly. I’ll just watch it on mute with subtitles.”

She laughs, her eyes crinkling in the corners. She loves him so much. Which segways them nicely onto his final two points.

“My parents do love you. Sure, they’re critical, but that’s just the way they are. They’re the same way to all of us. My mom complains to everyone she meets about how I can’t cook, how Tony hasn’t settled down and made her any beautiful grandbabies yet, even Perfect David faces her wrath when he goes a week without phoning her. If the worst thing my mom has to say about you is that you’re below average in height, you’re doing OK. And as for me apparently not liking you at first, I did like you.”

He furrows his brow. “But you said you found me annoying and difficult to be around.”

“Yet I didn’t ask to switch desks, continued working cases with you and went to Shaw’s whenever I was invited.” She stares at him pointedly. “If I really found you difficult to be around, I wouldn’t have stayed. I thought you were cute and funny and good at your job and yeah, you were annoying too, but,” she shrugs, “it never put me off.”

“So what you’re saying is that you had a crush on me first,” he grins.

“No. You obviously had a crush on me back then, too. What I’m saying is that I love you, our son loves you and you’re going to be a great dad.”

He blushes, ducking his head. “My dad said the same thing. About our son loving me.”

“He’s right,” she replies. “I feel him kick every time you get home from work, every time you sing to Taylor Swift in the car, every time I mention your name. Why didn’t you believe him?”

“I don’t know, still nervous about the curse, I guess.” He twists his wedding band on his finger.

Amy bites her lip. “Are you not excited about us having a boy?”

She has to ask. His excitement looked genuine in the break room, but it’s no secret that he was hoping for a girl. A mini-Amy, he said. While she’s always been more accustomed to boys considering the Santiago’s have, like, a million of them, Jake couldn’t get over the image of a little girl in dresses and doing ballet and with long, dark hair that he eventually learns to braid.

“Of course I am,” he’s quick to assure her. “Stupid excited. Never been more excited for anything. Not even the Ninja Turtles reboot. But still... nervous.” He rubs his hand over his face, muffling his voice. “Everyone is assuming what kind of dad I’m going to be. Whether I’m going to be good at it or not. To be fair, the only person who doubted me is that murderer I arrested last week, obviously not my biggest fan. Everyone else is convinced I can do it. What if I can’t? What if I’m genetically wired to be a bad dad? What if I disappoint you and our baby and Charles who has been dreaming about this forever?”

“Jake,” she softens her voice, pulling his hand away from his face, “the fact you are so worried about being a bad dad proves that you will not be one. Nor could you ever disappoint us.”

“But you’re my wife. You have to say that.”

“I would never have married you and become your wife if I thought you were the kind of person who could abandon your kid,��� she promises him. “You have been perfect so far, dealing with all the vitamins and over-scheduled sex and washing my clothes when I sweat through them and holding my hair back when I’m being sick. You’ve been to every doctor’s appointment, read every binder, bought me every weird food craving. You hang out with the bump every night, talking and singing to it. I know you’re going to be a great dad, Jake, because you already are one.”

She kisses him and it’s soft and tender and filled with love, only interrupted by the kick, kick, kicking of their son.

“Hey,” Jake says in his best authoritative dad voice/John McClane dealing with German terrorists voice (he’s been practising in front of the mirror following Bruce’s advice), pointing a warning finger at the bump. “I’m going to kiss your mom as much as I want, Peralta. I loved her first.”

Amy giggles, stroking her fingers through Jake’s unruly curls. His bedhead is always wild and it’s maybe her favourite thing in the entire world. She silently sends a message of her own to their son to inherit his dad’s hair. And eyes. And handsome smile.

He kicks again as if to say ‘OK, mom’.

And then she really needs to pee.

[spirits-n-suchh]

Spooky Story #1

Ok, so this is gonna be a long one, so i’ll put it under a read-more..

A few years ago, my bf and I moved out onto a place on his mom’s property. This was way out the woods, and I wasn’t very used to that kind of life. The best and fastest road out to our neck of the woods and back into town was a long, LONG winding road through the woods. It always felt like it took forever to get down that mf. If you’ve ever lived out in the country, you know what i’m talking about. Trees or fields on either side, no houses, no street lights to speak of. I was always scared of a deer jumping out in front of me when I drove. I would worry a lot about people too, since there were a surprising amount of people walking down that road at any hour of the day and night. So, what i’m saying is...seeing people walking on the road wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary..

My BF got a new job working at a warehouse for a well-known beer company. He never had a set time he would get off work each night. He always went in around 2pm until whenever they finished, basically. So, more often than not, he would get off work between 2-5am every night. And guess who always had to stay awake and pick him up? That’s right...me. I mean, I did enjoy staying up. It was the part where I had to walk to the car in the pitch black yard surrounded by woods I dreaded.  Anyways...I cannot recall the first time I saw him exactly, because I thought it was just a person at first. A weird person, but a human nonetheless. Somewhere along this long-ass stretch of road, I saw a man on the side of the road. He was knelt down, facing the woods, back turned at the road, staring at the ground and gently pawing at it. I use the word “pawing” because it wasn’t like he was furiously digging at the ground with both hands. Just barely, if at all, moving around the dirt and gravel. Never once did he look up, or move besides his one hand at the ground. Never in the many times I saw him.

 I thought it was really fucking strange, being it was always around 2-4am when I saw him. Just a very strange time to be out. Since the area has a notorious drug problem...I chalked it up to some guy just being high and walking home or something. Idk. I always try to be rational about things and mind my business. I never saw him a second time on my way home though. Oddly enough.

I kept seeing him, not very often mind you. Maybe once every couple of weeks to a month in between. And it was always only me who saw him. I started to joke around to myself “what is it’s a ghost? lol.” He was always in the same spot, on the same side of the road. Always. And always repeating the exact same behavior. Crouching down. Facing away. Never once looking up. (I've thought about drawing it)

It happened at least half a dozen times. The very last time I saw him before we moved again was really unexpected. It was like he just materialized from the darkness. Or maybe it was just particularly dark that night when my headlights found him. It was the first and only time I ever felt any kind of fear from seeing him. But for some reason, even being in a speeding car going 60+mph, I felt fear as if he could reach out and grab me. I have no idea why honestly. It just really sticks out in my mind as the scariest time I saw him. 

The only other person I can really talk to about this kind of thing is my sister though, since we have both experienced paranormal events as kids. So, in our minds, those were never hallucinations or our overactive imaginations.. My mom thinks anything to do with the supernatural is all demons, being extremely religious. So...I can’t talk to her about it at all. Even jokingly. But I explained to my sister what I've been seeing and she just looks over at me with huge, wide eyes and says,  “Bitch, that is a ghost.” And I swear my whole body felt cold. Like, just hearing someone else suggest it first made my stomach drop. Unlike me though, my sister is kind of scared to talk about them for fear of them “coming back.” Like...UGH, that gives me shivers.

anyways...

 Whether it was a ghost or a person, its still creepy af to me. Because if that’s not a ghost, that means this person likely lives on someone else’s private property and camps on it...why he finds the need to go on the road and be creepy, I haven’t a clue. Why is he digging? What is he hiding? What are the odds of me only seeing him during that 3-hour window I go out each night but never on my way home? Why not any other time of day? Idk man, drives me nuts. 

it’s weird that I can’t even remember what he was wearing exactly, or what color. Only it was dirty? Or just a sandy color maybe? I only surmise it was a man because of his broad shoulders and general shape. I never once saw his face. And it made me realize that any ‘ghost’ I ever saw never had a face, actually...

Oh, and an important part I've left out of this story for dramatic effect?? Was that...the place I always saw the man was in front of an old fucking Cemetery. No houses and woods for miles with a cemetery smack dab in the middle. Creepy.

Oh, and it was also a Pokestop...oddly enough. wtf?

[supraveng]

Agent of Shield - Chapter 2

Summary: You are a relatively new agent at Shield, but not a field agent, apparently that is about to change when you meet the Avengers and they realize you are a valuable asset

Word count:2259

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

I wake up Sunday morning around 5am, I can’t remember the last time I slept for a full 8 hours like that, but I feel so refreshed that I hop right up and head to the kitchen.   Checking my phone while my coffee brews, I see a text from my dad just before midnight last night.  

Pops: Pumpkin, how was your day?  I hadn’t heard from you, I’m sure you are staying busy.  Hopefully made it to the shelter today and found yourself a new companion.  

Y/N: Good morning Colonel!  I was in bed much earlier than you apparently.  I’ll call you after my run this morning, love you

I sit down sipping my coffee and grab a protein bar before heading back in my room to change to my favorite leggings and tank.  I used to hate running, but after moving to NYC, watching the sunrise as I jog through Central Park makes my day so much better, I can’t imagine missing it even once. This morning I’m a bit earlier than usual and get a chance to take the longer route through the park.  The sunrise is as beautiful as ever and adds a calming effect that I crave in this crazy world.  I decide to treat myself this morning and swing by my favorite coffee shop while heading down Central Park West.  As I step into the shop my phone rings and I answer without looking at the caller id. “Colonel, I told you I would call you when I got home, what’s making you so impatient this morning?” 

I state with fake annoyance.  “uh, Agent Miller?” I hear in response, ok, that’s definitely not my dad.  “Yea, who is this?  And how did you get this number?” I respond as I finally look at the caller id and see it’s a blocked number.  With a soft chuckle they respond “this is Steve Rogers; Director Fury gave me your number.  I didn’t intend on calling you this early, but we received some new communications late last night and hoping you are available to translate for us again.”  Wow, he even sounds handsome, how is that possible.  “Oh, hi, yes of course I can help.  I’m on the upper west side right now, I can be at the tower in 15 minutes, but I just finished a run and I’m kind of disgusting.”  Why did you just say that, you idiot? “That would be great, the quicker we can get this resolved, the better.  Should we send a car for you?” he asks.  “No, I’m good.  I’m picking up coffee, do you need any?” Seriously? What is wrong with me? It’s like I hear his voice and turn into an imbecile.  “No, but thank you for the offer, see you soon.” he replies before disconnecting the call. I grab my coffee and start heading toward mid-town when I look down and realize what I’m wearing, not only is the word Juicy across my ass, but my tank reads ‘I’m not a rapper, I just cuss a lot’. I laugh at how ridiculous I feel for being worried about what I’m wearing, I should be worried about the sweat that’s beginning to dry on my skin, bleh.

I arrive at the tower just as a security guard is unlocking the door for me. “Good morning” I chirp trying to sound as professional as possible while looking like a huge mess. “They are expecting you in the conference room on the 25th floor, use the first elevator on the left” he responds barely looking up, apparently, he’s not a morning person.  “Thanks” I smile as I head toward the elevators.  “Nice outfit” he smirks as I walk into the elevator.  Well, this should be interesting. Walking down the hall I get an eerie flashback from yesterday’s recordings and try to calm myself to focus on the task and not get too overwhelmed.   That worked for almost a full 5 minutes before you walk into the conference room to find Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson dressed in sweats and t-shirts.  A girl could die happy here! Deep breath and don’t make an ass of yourself! “Good morning gentlemen, I’m glad you got the dress code memo” I say as I enter the room.  “Glad you could make it on such short notice, Agent Miller, this is Sam Wilson. Sam, this is Agent Miller, she is helping us with our translating” Steve smiles as he introduces me.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Wilson, please call me Y/N.” “Well, you can call me Sam, and I’m glad none of us overdressed this morning.” he responds as you move closer to the conference room table.  “Normally, I would have put a bit more effort into my appearance, but I was finishing my run through the park when you called.” I smile and try to calm my nerves.  “It’s 645 in the morning and you were finishing your run?” he asks with a bit of shock.  I nod my head and grab a pen and paper off the table. “Geez, your worst than Cap! Wait, what park are you running through in the middle of the night?” he asks with a raised eyebrow and has now caught the attention of Steve, who seems more interested in the conversation now.  “Um, Central Park and it’s not the middle of the night, I didn’t get there until almost 530” you say nonchalantly.  The are both now looking at you like you have 3 heads.  “What? Growing up, I was the lazy one still in bed at 6am.  And I like watching the sunrise, it’s a good way to start your day.  So, you have another conversation to translate?”  you add quickly trying to change the subject.  

“Yes, we received a few early this morning, or I guess last night is a better time frame. Anyway, there are a few bits and pieces here and there.   Hopefully they have more info for us, but anything we can get will help us at this point.” Steve responds.  “Actually, how are your typing skills?  There are about 15 different recordings so I was hoping you might be able to type them up as you translate.” he adds looking at you hopeful.  “I think I’m around 90 wpm, so that shouldn’t be an issue” “Great, I’ll grab the laptop and you can get started” he claps Sam on the back as he heads out the door.  Sam looks you over as if he’s trying to solve a riddle.  “You ok?” I ask.  “I’m assuming you came from a military family if 6am made you the lazy one, am I right?” he asks with a knowing smile.  “Yes, my dad is a marine, and both of my brothers joined after college, one in the Navy and one in the Air Force” you smile realizing that Sam probably knows your dad and your brothers even if he hasn’t figured it out yet.  Steve comes back in the room, walking up behind you with the laptop and you realize that he’s now probably read your ass and you are trying your best to not crawl under the table in embarrassment.  “Ok, here is everything you should need.   The files are in the desktop folder with today’s date.  Thanks again for putting your life on hold to help us out.”  Steve says as he sets the laptop down in front of you.  You relax just from his kind words and smile at him, “it’s my pleasure, Steve”.

You begin working and do your best to not stare and drool over the gorgeous men in the room.  Just as you are about to begin your next recording, the buildings AI FRIDAY alerts Steve of a call coming in for you.  You look up confused and shrug your shoulders, no one knows you are here.  Then you hear Director Fury’s voice loud and clear. “Sorry to interrupt the party going on over there, but Agent Miller?  Would you like to explain why Colonel Miller is calling me at this hour on a Sunday morning?” he states sounding as irritated as ever.  “That’s probably because he loves you and misses you.” You respond flatly. “Ok, that’s probably only part of the reason, I was supposed to call him when I was done with my run and I got sidetracked.  Be a dear and cover for me?” you respond hoping that Nick is in a good mood and willing to help you out.  Sam is looking at Steve utterly confused, to which Steve just shrugs and shakes his head, laughing at how you seem completely comfortable around Fury and not at all intimidated like everyone else in SHIELD.  “How about you tell him yourself?” he responds before you hear a beep and your dad starting to talk. “Pumpkin, are you there?”  You hang your head embarrassed even more than you thought was possible for one day and you’ve only been awake for a little over 2 hours at this point. “Hi dad, I’m so sorry I didn’t call you, but I’m at work right now and I will call you as soon as I’m done, I promise.” You begin bargaining knowing full well it will get you no where but hoping he will take mercy on you.  “What are you having for breakfast?” he responds.  Your shoulders slump knowing this is only going to get worst.  Steve looks at you a little confused as to the question. Ok, I might as well get this over, if I don’t play along with his silly games then this is only going to become more humiliating. “I’m having pineapples covered in guacamole” you respond hoping Sam and Steve aren’t paying attention.  You then look up and know they heard but the confused and disgusted expressions on their faces.  “Alright, that’s good.  Now explain yourself.” he responds, and you take a deep breath.  “Dad, I was finishing my run and got called into work. I’m here now but have a bit more work to do, I promise I will call you the minute I’m done and headed home.”  “Fine, I wasn’t expecting to see you at the Stark tower at this time of the morning and assumed your body was discarded in the dumpster, that would be the only reason .you hadn’t called and didn’t answer my calls.” “Old man, you are so dramatic” you say with a smirk “and I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”  “Good, bye Pumpkin.”  

The call disconnects and you look at Sam and Steve hoping that you can get back to translating but knowing by the looks on their faces they have a lot of questions. “What the hell was that?” Sam asks trying to understand the conversation you just had with your dad.  “That was my dad, he’s a bit overprotective and paranoid” you respond hoping that would explain enough.  “Wait, your dad is Colonel Miller, as in Colonel Joseph Miller?” he asks. You nod and smile, you love your dad, but he had a reputation of being a big mean Marine, which he could be if he wanted to, but he never was with you, he was a giant teddy bear that worried about you more than necessary.  “And your breakfast choice?” Steve asked, still quite confused by what just happened. “Oh, that” I respond “when we were younger, my dad started this thing so that we could relay to him if we were in danger or kidnapped.   He asks about what we are eating and the most ridiculous or gross thing you answer means you are fine.  If I had answered pancakes, then he would know that I’m in danger, if I add eggs, then I’ve been injured.  If I add bacon it’s by someone I know, it’s crazy, and has only been used in innocent situations like today, but like I said he’s paranoid and overprotective” I shrug and smile at the guys.  It’s one of the things that made you love your dad, a thousand miles away and still making sure you are protected no matter what.  Steve looks at you with his brow furrowed “that’s kind of genius.”  I nod “yea, he’s good like that” I respond. “Wait, if he’s your dad, then Joshua and Jacob are your brothers?” Sam asks like he just figured everything out. I nod and smile “Yes, they are, and I apologize for anything they did that got you in trouble, that’s kind of their specialty.”  “Are you kidding?  Jacob was my saving grace in the Air Force, he is a bad ass and one of the best airmen I’ve ever known!” Sam explains with a huge smile on his face.  “Well, I’m glad, he would like to here that, he was medically discharged a few years ago after breaking his shoulder and it not healing as quickly as it should have.  He actually just started working with the Secret Service and finally feeling like himself again.” I tell him.  “Wow, that’s incredible.  I would love to catch up with him.  What about Josh?  Is he still sailing?” he asks.  “Yes, he’s on the west coast, San Diego or maybe Seattle.  I’m not sure, he moves around a lot.” I respond.  “Well, now that we are all caught up, Sam, can you check the data that just came in?  Hopefully, we can get through this info and still enjoy the rest of our day” Steve says thoughtfully as he looks between you and Sam.  “Of course” I respond and go back to the recordings. 

TAGS @farfromjustordinary​

NEXT CHAPTER

[12miraenie]

Trial---pt 5

Genre: Mafia AU, Angst, slight fluff…maybe?

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader, Sehun x Reader

Warning: Guns, weapons, drugs, explicit language

Word Count: 1875

Chapter Summary: Pretending to be someone you are not is not easy, when  reality sinks in and you are stuck in a dilemma, what are you going to do? 

✾ Link to Masterlist

pt 1 | pt 2.1 | pt 2.5 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7 | 

You are living in a dream. You have to be.

The things you do with Sehun together made you wonder what your life could be. Does everybody else lives this way? Do they only have to worry about what to eat for dinner, or going to work in the morning, what to do on the weekends? Life seems so slow here.

You didn't have to deal with gruesome mafia business every day. It wasn’t that much of a deal to see dead bodies or blood before, because you were already trained to be numb about it, either in the prison or in the mafia. But now you can’t bear to think about some of the things you’ve seen or done. Plus, you don’t have to look at Baekhyun’s face and be reminded of your painful history anymore. Every second in front of him was excruciating. You recalled that there had never been a day you went to sleep peacefully, without the problem of insomnia or nightmares.

“Y/N? I’m back.” Turning around, you saw Sehun shutting the door behind him. His hands were busy with three bags of food and a tray of coffee when Sehun fumbled to hang up the jingling keys. When people first meet him, clumsiness is the last thing they would associate him with. Sehun’s defined features and tall height makes him stand out in the crowd too easily, and from the conversations you had in the gala, he left matching impressions to people. Confident, decisive, and a little arrogant.

You couldn't hold it in anymore and giggle. Sehun had finally managed to put everything back in place and shot you an annoyed look.

“Yah, if you are just gonna stay there and laugh, come help me with the food.”

You took the takeout bags from his hand and walked into the kitchen. Once again, its contents were way too heavy for two people to finish.

“Oh Sehun, you are going to make me fat one day! How can we even finish this one thing?” You pointed to the whole chicken when Sehun tapped your shoulder. Turning around, you almost squealed when Sehun pressed a cup of coffee to your lips.

“Three shots, vanilla milk, no sugar.” He repeated your coffee preference, and tapped your lips with the cup again, urging you to try. Closing your eyes, you took a sip and sighed in content.

“Is it good?”

Sehun’s voice sounded too close. You opened your eyes and realized he was less than a foot away from you. You could see each strand of his hair clearly, and distinguish each eyelash. The moment you locked eyes, you froze. The way he looked at you, like he often does,  gave confusing signals. Sometimes you wondered how much of your banters, conversations, and laughs were real. Were you still acting to be someone you are not? Or is this the real you? This just makes contacting Jongin harder for you every time. Thinking about the look of betrayal in Sehun’s eyes hurt you too much.  But despite how much of a dilemma you were in every day, you still text him about updates every week.

“I’m going to take a shower, ok?”

You waited until Sehun closed the bathroom door and took out your other phone. You sat on the bed and contemplated. This is a mission. You shook your head and convinced yourself. You can’t think otherwise.

“Jongin, I can’t-”

“Can’t what, Y/N?” You almost dropped your phone in shock, because instead of Jongin, it was Baekhyun's monotonic voice that reached your ears. You realized just then that it’s the first time you were having a conversation with him on the phone.

“What, Y/N? Cat got your tongue?”  

Despite the statics on the phone, you could still hear the mocking tone in his voice clearly. You had imagined what Baekhyun would look like right now, probably the same as the day he came to see you in the hospital.

“You are supposed to meet Jongin in person to debrief every week.”

You tried to calm down your breathing. Because you knew exactly why you changed the plan. You told Jongin it would look suspicious to Sehun if you go out every week because you didn’t want your cover blown. Then it reduced to calls and later texts.

You were afraid.

“It’s been a month, Y/N. Where is the fucking USB?” You could sense how furious Baekhyun was even from the other end of the phone. You gripped on the bedsheet for support.

“I-it must be in his office because I can’t find it anywhere!”

“Don’t give me excuses, you know that’s not true.” Baekhyun paused for a second and chuckled darkly, “Are you living together now? I mean if you are getting comfortable with him, probably too comfortable,” he dragged the last two words longer than necessary, making you aware of what he’s thinking, “Why can’t you get the job done?”

You gripped the phone tightly, “Are you watching me?”

Baekhyun didn't answer.

“You still owe me for saving your life. Don’t forget who you are.”  

-Flashback-

“You should go.”  The man before you coughed and tried to sit up, groaning at every move. You jolted awake from his sudden movement and winced at how uncomfortable the chair was. Glancing at the clock on the wall, you realized it has been 3 hours since you helped him home. You quickly grabbed two cushions on his couch and put it under his waist to support him. You didn’t budge and cut the old bandages that were already stained with blood.

“You are not nearly close to being recovered.” He raised a trembling hand trying to stop you, but you pushed it down gently.

“You don’t have any strength now, so just stay still.”

Sehun’s eyes were barely open a centimeter, but you could see the inquisition and silent judgment behind them. You scoffed inside, is he trying to read you when he’s one badly hurt?

Eventually, he chose to lie down and let you do your job. Securing the last bit of new bandages, you sighed in relief. At least this time red didn’t come through the gauze as fast as last time. You inspected his stomach area one more time and made sure everything was treated before moving on to the minor cuts and bruises on his face.

“Go to sleep, it’s only 5am, and you need to rest.” You pressed down an alcohol pad on a cut, Sehun hissed.

“Can’t...hurts too much.” He shook his head weakly. You popped two more painkillers out, but Sehun refused them.

“No, that one.” He pointed to a bottle with clear liquid in them. You picked it up and turned to check the label. Morphine Sulfate. Your eyes widened. How does he have Morphine stored in his house? You knew it’s strictly a prescription medicine. You turned to look at him, “How-”

“Just do it.”

You guessed a minor dose was probably fine. You never took notice until now how organized and professional his first-aid kit is. You tried not to care about little containers of different pills and solutions and fished for a new syringe in the kit.

“You seem to know what you are doing,” Sehun commented, seemingly casual.

You lifted one of your eyebrows when your hand nearly dropped the syringe. He is too smart and too observant for his own good. You realized that Sehun may have more to what he showed on the surface. Should you come up with a cover right now?

“I...am a med student.” You lowered your eyes and pretended to focus on the injection. He wouldn’t want to know why you were so fluent at this.

“First-hand experience, huh?”  You felt the increasing pace of your heart and panicked a little. Is he suspecting something now?

You pulled the syringe out and put a band-aid on.

“Yeah, you have no idea how much.” Unpleasant memories flashed back to your mind, you thought about your times stuck in the hospital under Baekhyun's orders. You’ve been injected with medicine so many times every day that you know exactly what to do even with your eyes closed.

“Do you want to stay here?” Sehun turned his head sideways and stared at you.

To be honest, Oh Sehun had surprised you more than you would think tonight. You froze and widened your eyes. Why would anyone ask a stranger to stay in their house? You opened your mouth, but no syllable came out. He chuckled weakly.

“You saved my life today, besides no normal med school student would go to a party like that,” he glanced you up and down, hands bloodied, dress ripped and stained with his blood. “And not be scared to death already by now.”

-End Flashback-

“Sorry, which one did you tell me you want?”

You and Sehun had gone furnish shopping because he suddenly thought his apartment was too bare and in need of some changes. He's been acting a lot more playful around you than usual, but you don't know if it means good or bad. You glanced at the different couches and was about to tell him that dark grey one looks nice when he spoke up.

“Umm, I think either that one or...this?” You lifted your eyebrows at the ones he was suggesting. One was an ugly mustard color, and the other was a weird emerald green. You were about to protest when his phone suddenly started ringing. Sehun’s face hardened at the caller ID. You were intrigued in an instant.  This must be important. Sehun sent you an apologetic smile and mouthed a word "work".  

You nodded, and he took a few steps away from you. From your peripheral vision, Sehun stayed rather silent, humming in response to whatever the person on the other end was saying until he mentioned a specific name.

“Chanyeol-,” your ears perked at the familiar name. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard that name. You still shuddered at the interaction with the CEO of PK Enterprise, he is definitely not some ordinary businessman. Besides, you were sure Oh Sehun is tied to him in some ways. Just then you realized that you don't actually know a lot of things about the man you were living with.

“No, I don’t need you to remind me anymore.” Sehun’s lips were pursed, his tone was terse and cold, unlike the usual him. 

This was a different man.

“I need some time off work, tell Xiumin to do it.”

Your ears perked. Why can Sehun talk like that to Chanyeol, like they know each other so well? And who’s Xiumin?

This one phone conversation raised so many questions in your brain, and there you thought Sehun was just a secretary or a close associative under Chanyeol. You sighed, knowing that there won’t be any breakthrough on the USB soon. You suddenly lost the appetite to shop and didn’t even protest when Sehun paid for the mustard couch. You pushed the cart forward mindlessly and didn’t notice Sehun’s frequent glances your way.

“What’s wrong?”

You broke out of your trance and shook your head slightly.

“No-”

“If you don’t like the couch, we can change-”

You plastered a smile on your face and pretended like nothing’s wrong.

“It’s fine, really. I guess I’m just a little hungry.”

You were worried that he would see through your mask, but he nodded like he bought your story. Sehun cocked his head and thought for a while,

“Ah! Let’s eat pasta today! There’s a great place in Itaewon. And we can get bingsu later!”

Sehun brought his car around and helped you in. You closed your eyes and pretended to be asleep. When did you start losing yourself little by little? You were getting more and more used to waking up to a table of food prepared by Sehun, drinking coffee in the morning, and buying groceries with him. Your everyday routine now was so simple, so domestic, but for some reason, you had fallen in love with it. You don’t think it would be easy for you just to leave it to return to the mafia. Somehow you had stopped considering your previous life as normality. Why do you crave being together with Sehun so much now?

----------------------

“Boss. I just sent the pictures.”

Baekhyun found himself clenching his fists, uncontrollable anger rising in him. You looked so happy with Oh Sehun together, like you belong there, next to him.

Baekhyun gently tugged his silver necklace. It’s still there. The diamond shined brightly as ever, and the metal was still cold enough to sting his hand. So why does he feel like losing you little by little? Baekhyun tightened his jaw, he won't let that happen.

“Give me Yixing. It’s time for him to come back.”

[seventeen-scenarios-blog]

[DIAMOND LIFE PODCASTS] Episode 1: Neighbours

[SUN 8/10/2017]

[2147PM SGT]

Wooed: Okay, so we were talking about shipping us with members of Seventeen the other day and somehow Scooped thinks I’d be compatible with Mingyu?

Scooped: I don’t know man, I just feel like your personality matches the best with him. Meanwhile, I don’t really see Coups and I getting along all that well.

Wooed: Dude, you’re like the mom of our group, and he’s the dad of Seventeen. You’d match perfectly

Hoshit: You’d both compete to see who can take care of each other better.

Wooed: You’d both compete to see who wakes up earlier to make breakfast for the other.

Scooped: And we end up sleeping for an hour per night. I’ll be like, “Hey, babe, what are you doing at 3AM in the morning?” and he replies, “Making breakfast.”

Scooped: Alright, I’ll make lunch at 3AM.

Wooed: Then Mingyu pops his head into your window and declares, “I’M MAKING DINNER :D” And you both go, “WTF Mingyu.”

Hoshit: And you both make enough food to last the entire week.

Jihooned: Guys, I leave to bathe and this happens.

Wooed: I’ll end up dragging Mingyu by the ear back into his apartment. GOD SCOOPED IMAGINE IF WE BOTH ENDED UP AS NEIGHBOURS THO. Mingyu and Coups would be chaotic, yelling at each other through their windows.

Wooed: “WHATCHU COOKIN’ THERE.” “PANCAKES.” “CAN I HAVE SOME.” “SURE.” All at like five freaking AM.

Hoshit: Dude, what if we all end up living on the same apartment floor.

Jihooned: Oh god, please no.

Wooed: One day, Mingyu gets the cold and it spreads throughout the floor because you all came over for dinner. I don’t get sick because I’d most probably be used to being around Kim Mingew already

Scooped: Or everyone just starves because Mingyu wouldn't be able to cook

Hoshit: Wait, who am I supposed to be married to in this scenario?

Wooed: I’m with Mingyu, Scooped is with Seungchul, you’re probably with Soonyoung.

Jihooned: I’ll take Seokmin then

Wooed: Seokmin starts every morning with an “ACHIM EUN MoOOOoOoOOOO~~~” and everyone in the whole floor jerks awake.

Scooped: Seungcheol screams at him to shut up.

Jihooned: The two of us will be the most childish shits

Wooed: Seokmin the type to do toilet paper pranks though. Mingyu sees him and be like, “Uh, what are you doing at my house?” Seokmin replies, “I’m… TP-ing it.” “Can I join you?” “Mingyu… this is your house…”

Scooped: Will Coups be the kinky one to leave early at our gatherings?

Jihooned: Scooped why.

Hoshit: Soonyoung and I will leave early too… to play Jenga

Wooed: I’LL LEAVE LAST BECAUSE YOU ASSES WOULD PROBABLY HAVE GATHERED AT MY PLACE FOR FOOD AND MINGYU AND I WILL CLEAN UP LIKE THE RESPONSIBLE PEOPLE WE ARE. But it’s okay if it means cuddle sessions at the couch when we’re too tired to move. “Should we bathe?” “Nah.”

Hoshit: DIRTY.

Wooed: Not as dirty as what Coups is doing next door HOOOOOooOOOoOOoOOO *blaring airhorns effect*

Scooped: WE’RE CLEANING DAMMIT WOOED.

Hoshit: I want some bread.

Wooed: OMG. Baking days with Seokmin though can you imagine!!!

Jihooned: YAaAaAAAAAsSSS

Wooed: Mingyu goes over and they hole themselves in the kitchen for like hours on end. The two of us stand there just being like, “Uh… can we help?

Wooed: Mingyu says, “Jihooned, yes. Wooed, stay the hell out of the kitchen. You’ll burn it down.” “Yes sir.”

Jihooned: Omg, also, DOGS. YES. DOGS.

Hoshit: Y'all we can all get a different breed of dog each? So that we can kinda own 5 dogs.

Wooed: I WANT A HUSKY.

Jihooned: I want corgis and shibas, and Seok can have his maltese

Scooped: Why do I feel like Coups and I will hardly mix around with you guys?

Wooed: Probably because Coups’ completely done with our shit. It’s okay, I’ll get Mingyu to yell at you through the balcony. Like, “HOYYYYYYYYYYY”

Jihooned: Holy shit I read that in his voice.

Scooped: ME TOO WTF.

Wooed: If all else fails, Mingyu’s body is definitely long enough to stretch across two apartments.

Hoshit: Soonyoung and I will dance our way into your house. We’ll jump from the balcony.

Jihooned: Please don’t jump. At least not you, Hoshit, you will trip.

Scooped: I can literally see them climbing through all the balconies like, “Sorry Seokmin, coming through!”

Wooed: Then at 5AM in the morning, Mingyu and I will go, “ESS COoOOoOOOOOuUuPS”

Wooed: Please put this convo on hold I need to go down for a meeting.

Wooed: I REPEAT. WE ARE NOT DONE TALKING ABOUT THIS. But before I start, can I just say how Mingyu and I will be the BEST birthday party planners of the group? We’ll like, keep notes of every person’s birthday including our kids if we have any. AND WE’LL THROW ALL THE SURPRISE BIRTHDAY PARTIES. We’ll invite Hansol so he doesn’t feel left out of the February 18th Squad

(Hoshit, Seokmin and Hansol share the same birthday)

Jihooned: Yeah, because Hoshit obviously will not be able to remember any of our birthdays.

Wooed: Imagine Mingyu and I making a huge fuss over Soonyoung’s kid’s first birthday because IT’S A FIRST BIRTHDAY WE NEED A CEREMONY. WHAT DO WE DO.

Hoshit: Dude, just buy a cake.

Wooed: *Narrows eyes* What kind of parent are you.

Hoshit: We can even have one balloon. One is enough, right? To be honest I’ll just give my child money. If we take into account inflation they’d be richer in the future.

Wooed: Your kid would just end up spending more time with their Uncle Mingyu and me. He’d be godfather to all of the kids, and I guess that makes me their godmum too?

Jihooned: God, have fun taking care of our kids then.

Hoshit: I’d be the chillest mom dude.

Scooped: Coups and I will just be doling out red packets to all of the kids. “Here you go”, “One for you”, “You get one too.”

(in Chinese customs, the elders would give red packets containing money to children during special occasions like New Year and birthdays WHICH IS A GREAT ALTERNATIVE IF YOU’RE LAZY TO GO OUT AND ACTUALLY BUY A GIFT COUGH COUGH)

Hoshit: OMG no, I know exactly which mum I'd be. The embarrassing one that shouts encouragements at like sports matches. My son, getting ready to serve, me: "OH YES THAT'S MY BABY BOY SLAY THEM!!!!!!! CRUSH THEM ALL!!!! SWEETIE YOU'RE DOING SO WELL"

Wooed: Then the staff in charge goes, "M'am I’m gonna have to ask you to sit down"

Wooed: Soonyoung screeches from the grandstand, "BITCH YOU DON’T TALK TO MAH WIFE LIKE THAT."

Wooed: Then Hoshit & Soonyoung’s future son: "Oh my god dad please". They both get subsequently banned from all the games, and Mingyu and I take their place because we are actual civil human beings.

Scooped: Hoshit and Soonyoung are going to get banned from everywhere. Like, EVERYWHERE. They can’t even go out in public without people around to supervise them.

Hoshit: Yeah, but we’d be like, the life of the party… Until we get kicked out.

Scooped: Meanwhile Coups and I will be the complete opposite because we are lazy old people.

Hoshit: I’d be disturbing S.Coups all day to be honest. Wonwoo too. Wait, does Wonwoo factor into any of this shit.

Scooped: I honestly wouldn’t like it if this happens.

Wooed: Yeah, Wonwoo would chill at our house pretty often, so he factors in. BUT, Mingyu and I would protect this boy with our life, so disturb him and DIE.

Jihooned: Aren’t you supposed to be having a meeting.

Wooed: It’s boring.

Hoshit: It’s okay, I live to disturb other people. I’m a professional disturber.

Jihooned: You’d be the first to die. Hoshit, I wonder how are you gonna survive with Soonyoung. You two will have trouble operating technology.

Wooed: Yeah, just because Mingyu lives next door doesn’t mean you can disturb us whenever you all need a lightbulb switch.

Jihooned: Do you want Hoshit to fix a lightbulb? I don’t think so. The whole apartment will have a blackout.

Scooped: It won’t even be a blackout. It would be an explosion. Boom. Dead.

Wooed: Mingyu and I be cuddling watching television when the electricity blows out. “GODDAMMIT KWON SOONYOUNG.”

Jihooned: Guys.

Jihooned: It's 12AM KST.

Hoshit: Shit.

Scooped: Shit.

Wooed: Shit.

Jihooned: Shit.

// THIS BROADCAST HAD BEEN ABRUPTLY CUT OFF BECAUSE LILILI YABBAY DROPPED //

Junnie: /Reads the entire long ass convo at 2:00am/ Guys when this happens, when I marry Jun, please remember to cook dinner for me every night and tell me which door to knock on because I might starve if y’all don’t. Thank you very much ok goodnight

[yuhb0y]

Hard to believe this post was 3 years ago. My first suicide attempt led me to be institutionalized and it was probably the scariest thing I’ve ever had to go through. I remember waking up in the middle of the night one day and crying harder than I had ever cried, I don’t really remember what it was about this specific day but at some point throughout the thought came into my head that this was finally it.

I wrote a letter to my family and texted the girl I loved a huge apology. This was all going on during the worst drug binge I had ever been on. I took one last shower idk why but I did, I sat down on my couch and really reflected on everything I could for as long as I could but in a moments notice I realized that I didn’t really want to overthink the whole situation so I gathered about 12 or 14 norcos in my hand and just swallowed them whole. I continued to do so til there wasn’t anything left of the 2 bottles I had gotten my hands on. I remember going in for the last handful and feeling some sort of relief.

And just like that I leaned back and could feel my head get lighter and lighter and I as I got higher all I could remember is crying. Even in the moments I had hoped to be my last I felt inadequate. There was no peace, there was no instance where this all made sense to me, I found nothing. This was everything I had allowed to eat away at me taking all control and I just sat there crying because it was the worst realization I had ever made.

Eventually I blacked out and I guess my mother found me with puke coming out my mouth. I was still a bit coherent but everything was so fucking hazy. I don’t really know how my mom did it but she got me into her car and drove me to the hospital where she worked at (and ironically the one I was born at.) It was about 5am and I remember seeing rain fall down on a world that wasn’t quite awake yet out the car window as I came in and out of this horrible state I was in, my mom kept shaking me to stay awake.

When I got to the hospital I was in a drug induced frenzy, I tried to fight staff and police cuz they wanted to strip me (staff even stole my phone charger but I don’t blame them) Eventually I was put into an er room. Too much time had gone by and they said they couldn’t pump my stomach, so I had to wait out the worst high of my life. I spent about 9 hours vomiting, crying with my parents, and slipping in and out of consciousness cuz I was not allowed to fall asleep under any circumstances in case I didn’t wake back up.  This was it, this was my defeat, nothing after this would be the same whether I lived or died, everything would change.  

All I really remember was thinking about my siblings and my late grandmother. My siblings and my parents are everything to me and all I felt was shame. More shame than I’ve ever felt in my life. I had to start training for a new job that week and all I remember thinking is “What do I tell them?” “Does the rest of my family know?” “How do I explain this to anyone?” I was at the lowest I had ever been in my life and I thought no one could understand.  

The whole 9 hours I was in the er I wasn’t allowed water for fear of choking to death. I vomited the entire time and cried more than I had ever in my 19 years of living, I confessed my feelings to my parents and everything I had felt up to that point, I told them I had been depressed since I was a child and how I was hiding this drug problem from them, and they both just kept telling me they loved me and that everything was gonna be ok.  

I really didn’t have a choice when it came to being put in the psych ward, my parents really pushed it and I didn’t really know what to do in this situation. I signed a dotted line and hugged my mom and dad like it was the last time I was gonna see them. I was stripped searched one last time and taken to a room with the clothes I arrived in.  

I remember sleeping most of the time when I first got there. My roommate was a rich kid like two years older than me with a history of drug abuse and destruction of property. His name was Michael and he was there as part of court-sentenced rehabilitation, he had taken abunch of xanax and crashed his rich dads car into a building. He was kinda scary and read the bible all the time in order to “get right with god.” He even stole one of my tshirts by proclaiming to me one morning “This is mine now Eli.” We had planned to stay in contact when I got out but that never happened. Most nights we’d talk til one of us passed out, when you’re put into a setting like that it really changes alot of things, I feel like he knew me better than most people know me now. I hope he’s doing ok where ever he is, I hope he’s better cuz he atleast deserves that.  

I actually made friends in there and they helped me out more than any of the therapy or group activities. Our lunch table consisted of me, this man Mark that was an alcoholic and decorated college professor with 4 kids, grandkids and a girlfriend, he attempted to hang himself from his bedroom window and ended up falling 3 stories and breaking his arm, this was his 6th stay in a mental institution. There was Greg, a theater actor that was down on his luck, he never told me how he tried to do it but that didn’t matter, he had struggled with depression since he was a teenager and by the end of his stay he was really stoked on getting this part in a play. There was another Michael he was also my age, he was in there cuz he almost drank himself to death and received alcohol poisoning, he had been away at college when it happened and his family thought it’d be good for him to check himself in before going to rehab, we talked about death metal and videogames all the time and he was the only one that ever wanted to take walks with me. Finally there was Dave, he was a terminal cancer patient with a degree in architecture, he had two kids and a wife, he slashed his arms with a kitchen knife, he was usually on bed rest but he was the only one that was ever up as early as I was and we were always the first ones up for breakfast, I think I helped him more than he helped me. These men helped me out so much, especially Mark, I couldn’t believe such a smart and experienced person could feel the way I did, he was the first person that really taught me about coping with depression and he just taught me so much about regular life stuff and I’m forever grateful for that, I had tried to contact him when I was out but could never get a hold of him. I hope he didn’t die, that’s my biggest fear. I hope no one died, I hope they’re all still here. It’s horrible to think like that but it’s hard not to.  

While I was in there I got regular visits from friends and the girl I was in love with, she even made out with me once in there and some staff saw and scolded me but I just thought it was funny. Seeing her was the one thing I looked forward to the most cuz she came everyday and I would literally count down the minutes and hours til she arrived and I couldn’t help but get super stoked everytime, I was really in love. Visits helped me alot since I had no means of contact with the outside world. I remember writing letters to my mom and dad and said girl. I would draw alot and write alot and I even read some books which I never do. One thing I couldn’t do was listen to music and that was probably the most annoying thing ever. I watched movies everyday too with my roommate and we even started a “movie time” in the wreck room, I remember watching A Bronx Tale one day and 2 ladies were really offended cuz they swore alot, we didn’t care though.  

I was in there for about 8 or 9 days until I was discharged on short notice. My aunt Maggie had lost her fight with diabetes and had passed away while I was in there. She was the only one that ever came to my shows and she was my mom’s best friend, she was a wonderful person and I loved her alot, it just made my situation worse losing her. The hospital let me out early so I could attend her funeral. I was diagnosed with dysthymia and prescribed anti-depressants and handed a 2,000 dollar medical bill and sent on my way.  

It was all surreal, the day i got out my mom picked me up and we headed home to pack since we were headed to Wisconsin to bury my aunt on her tribes’ reservation, I brought my girl too. We were off to Wisconsin, here I was not even 12 hours out and on my way to send off my beloved aunt, I didn’t know how to feel, everyting was happening so fast. The funeral actually wasn’t sad, of course my family and i cried but it was a very beautiful native american ceremony. There was dancing and a huge bonfire and a feast and we told stories about Maggie, it lasted 2 days, there was a ton of my family and none of them knew what I had just been through so i had to just pretend like I was ok, but either way it wouldn’t really be appropriate to talk about that shit there. The only person that knew was my uncle who’s wife we were burying, I remember him hugging me and telling me he loved me and I just held him and told him I loved him too, I felt like a jackass cuz he already had enough going on. We burried my aunt next to her mother one morning and I put a rose on her casket. Death is a very real thing and I had been face to face with it and this whole experience was insane.  

We stayed the whole weekend on this beautiful reservation and I remember just being with my girl and feeling lucky to be alive. It was like some straight up movie shit, I remember one night I was just hanging out with her in front of this lake and just kissing her and it was dark and we were in the middle of all this scenery and the whole time the weather was gloomy since it was fall and it was cold but I didn’t care I just kissed her and told her I loved her, it was intense.  

When I was back home I got back into the groove of things and began to live life again cuz I didn’t really wanna think about all I had been through for a bit. I remember talking to friends and family members about it, some conversations were more sincere than others. When you almost die everyone loves you.  

Depression is a very serious thing. It doesn’t take a break, it can take over anyone, your mother, your girlfriend, your boss, your teacher, no one is really in the clear. Depression is a monster that eats away at alot of us and some of us don’t make it out in one piece. If you ever feel like you’re going through something, please don’t do it alone, even if you feel like you are, you’re not. It took a drug overdose for me to realize that and it shouldn’t have been that way. Feeling like shit about yourself is completely normal, we’re literally the most complex organisms on this planet with even more complex feelings and ideas, it’s perfectly alright to feel down sometimes, it’s completely natural. I’m just saying you should never feel like you need to hide the way you’re feeling and you should never be scared of reaching out to someone, we all have people that care about us and if they’re all real, they’ll definitely understand. Don’t wait until it’s too late like I did. Don’t wake up one morning after bottling everything up and make a decision you can’t take back. Don’t break your mother’s heart. Don’t let this take you. You are more than this and you deserve more, you owe it to yourself. Love yourself and let the love of others guide you down this dark path, it’s the only way.  

Three years have gone by. Three years. I still struggle everyday with these thoughts in my head and some days are harder than others. Sometimes I feel like giving up and making everything go away. Three years have gone by and I don’t do drugs anymore, I’ve had my moments of weakness but I never went back to that shit. Three years have gone by and the friends I had back then are still here, and I love them with all my heart. Three years have gone by and some friends have parted ways with me but I love them too. Three years have gone by and the girl I wrote those letters to burned them all. Three years have gone by and I attempted suicide again. Three years have gone by, I’ve made some progress and had some setbacks. Three years have gone by and I’ve fucked up alot of things in my life. Three years have gone by and I’ve hurt some people and have been hurt myself. Three years have gone by and I’ve done some cool shit. Three years have gone by and music has always been there for me. Three years have gone by and my relationship with my parents is better. Three years have gone by and alot has changed. Three years have gone by and I’m happy I’m still here.  Three years have gone by and I hope if you’re reading this and you struggle with something similar I want you to know that it’s not gonna get better right away, this horrible feeling will probably never leave you but goddamnit you are strong and you are amazing and life is amazing and there’s so much of it you gotta see. And when it’s all said and done you will be more than this.  

Always remember that I’ll always love you and I’ll always be here for you even in the darkest times. Maybe you’ll feel different when the sun rises.

[matcha-chocolate]

looee tooshay

@samwichwilson - sambucky headcanon: him touch penis Honestly, you’re the worst person i’ve ever met -------------- Sam didn’t care what Steve said about Bucky having been a suave ladykiller* in the past; the man was terrible at flirting.  *considering recent events, perhaps that word ought not be used to describe an ex-assassin He didn’t even have the ‘sullen, scowling bad boy with a sad past’ thing going any more. No, he’d found himself in the modern world, all right. He was a fucking dork. “Sam, what happened to the Spice Girls?” Sam concentrated really hard on his Cinnamon Toast Crunch. He had a few choice words for whoever it was that introduced Steve to sugary breakfast cereals, because it was all the man ever bought now.  “Sam.” Sam was deeply engrossed in how loudly he could chew until Barnes’ voice was drowned out. So far, no such luck. “Sam.”

“What what what what, Barnes, what?” Sam grit out, finally looking up. He was sleep-rumpled, his face still creased from his pillow and his mouth twisted into an unhappy sort of semi-pout. It was 4am (too early), it was overcast (pressure headache), and most importantly, it was Saturday (Sam’s day off.) “What happened to the Spice Girls?” Bucky repeated, reaching over Sam to grab the tub of cream cheese instead of asking like a polite, well-mannered human being. “Uuuuggggh,” Sam replied, his groggy irritability taking over for a second. Then he heaved a sigh. Barnes had stayed up all night because of... well, who knows, the guy was clearly wired in that ‘48 hours without sleep and I feel great!’ kind of way. He was just trying to make conversation with Sam. “They broke up? I think? Or-- wait, there was some kinda reunion thing? My sister lost her damn mind over it.” “Aww, hell, did they really break up?” Bucky asked, looking despondent as he slathered an upsetting amount of cream cheese onto his bagel. “Think so, man. Sorry.” “Damn.” Bucky paused, and then perked up again. “Wanna watch their videos on YouToo?” “Youwhat?” “Y’know. YouToo! Videos, and ... well, just videos.” “YouTube, Barnes. Tube.” “What th’ hell’s it called that? YouToo makes sense, like... I’m watchin’ a video, and you too.” “Barnes, shut the...” Sam trailed off, idly sucking the last of the overly sweet cereal milk off his spoon. (He didn’t notice Bucky ardently watching him.) “You know, I don’t know why it’s called YouTube? Maybe something to do with TV or...” And that’s how they spent 10 minutes Googling the history of YouTube, and almost 2 hours watching Spice Girls videos (Bucky fell asleep about 40 minutes in, slumped heavily against Sam. Sam allowed it; the guy seemed exhausted.)

“What, like a learning exchange?” Sam asked, his eyebrows raised. It was the next Saturday, this time 5am, and he’d found Bucky wide awake again. “Well, I dunno. I guess. I ask you bout lotsa stuff, and I thought... I could tell ya stuff.” “Stuff.” “I know stuff!” Bucky said, slightly defensive. Sam hid a huge yawn behind his hand, waving the other dismissively. “Yeah, I know you know stuff. What kinda stuff you wanna teach me?” “Dunno. What you wanna know about?” Sam thought for a moment. 50 Ways To Garrote Your Man-- While Keeping Your Hair Perfect! Perfecting Your Thousand-Yard Stare and Other Makeup Tips How Punching Nazis Can Help YOU Get the Ridiculously Hot Body of Your Dreams!! Sam blinked. That last one had come out of nowhere. He cleared his throat. “Uhhh. I dunno, always wanted to learn French...” “Languages?” Bucky asked, furrowing his brow. Sam felt a stab of worry; he wasn’t sure how Barnes felt about his multi-lingual ability, considering how he’d gotten it. But Bucky’s face was lighting up now. “Yeah, I could do that. You uh... if you got Saturdays free, we could do an hour? I’m. I c’n teach. I used to tutor my little sister.” The man was quieter now, getting the far-off look that he and Steve got sometimes. “That’d be pretty cool, Barnes,” Sam said, feeling a little hot in the face for some reason. Bucky nodded, seeming to come back to himself. “Okay! So. Got another culture question for ya. Then we can do some a’ the French basics. Yeah?” “Oui.” “Wilson, it’s one word. How’d you get the accent so janky? Jesus, I’m gonna have my work cut out for me.” “Fuck you, Barnes.” “You wish. Okay-- Backstreet Boys vs. N’Sync. What was up with that?” Sam and Bucky smoothly ignored the You wish, even though there was just the faintest hint of pink in Bucky’s cheeks for a few minutes.

2:08 am. Saturday. 4 months later. Sam pressed the heels of his hands hard against his eyelids, seeing spots when he finally eased off. He’d been given more ‘homework’ by freakin’ Barnes; translating a long list of phrases without the help of a dictionary or Google Translate, which Barnes would check over in the morning. Sam was exhausted. He’d actually picked up the basics blazingly fast -- not that he was paying attention to the praise that Barnes heaped on him, shut up -- and had come to look forward to his Saturday mornings. (Steve had been banned from the language lessons for interrupting every few minutes with a ‘Well, actually, in this particular dialect--’ comments.) A message flashed on his screen; his sister, 4 hours ahead of him, was awake. He opened his camera and waved to his younger sister, who saluted him with her cup of coffee. Since it was early, they typed instead of using audio: Sarah W. 💗: Sammy sammy sam sam S. Wilson: jfc sis ur hyper today Sarah W: 💗: I have a long weekend!! Going 2 the spa S. Wilson: u fancy Sarah W 💗: do u have your HON HON HON FRONSH LESSON today S. Wilson: lol u know i do Sarah W 💗: R U GONNA TELL LE PROFESSOR YOU WANNA SMASH S. Wilson: obv not jfc Sarah W 💗: if you don’t I WILL S. Wilson: Sarah NO Sarah W. 💗: SARAH YES S. Wilson: how do u make bold?? S. Wilson: o nvm i figured it out Sarah W. 💗: tell him LUI TOUCHER LE PÉNIS Sam couldn’t help it; he let out an ungainly wheeze, shaking with laughter at his desk. “L...lui... toucher... le pénis,” Sam read aloud, actual tears starting in his eyes. His sister was ridiculous. “Christ, Wilson. ‘Him touch the penis? That’s pretty bad grammar,” Bucky said from the doorway. Sam just barely refrained from yelping, instead whipping around to stare at the source of the voice. “What the hell, Barnes!” “Your door was kinda open,” Bucky shrugged. “And your light was on. Figured you’d want some company.” As he spoke, he moved further into the room-- much like he had many times over the last few months. Sam and Bucky had become late-night companions (not like that, Sarah, oh my god), since they both had trouble staying asleep all night. Maybe they’d fallen asleep tangled together more than a few times on Sam or Bucky’s bed. No big. “I was just talking to Sarah,” Sam said, still laughing a little. It was only when Bucky smiled and said “How is she?” that Sam remembered that Bucky and Sarah occasionally exchanged pleasantries. Bucky’s eyes widened slightly as he read the conversation. Sarah, watching with wide eyes, waved and gave Bucky a thumbs up. Bucky grinned at her. “Listen, Sarah is wild, Barnes. I don’t--” Sam started. “If you wanted to ask something like that, you’d say...” Barnes leaned forward and murmured it into Sam’s ear, afterwards huffing out an almost shy laugh. Sam, feeling distinctly feverish as he had with increasing frequency around Barnes lately, repeated the phrase. “Pretty good, Wilson,” Banres murmured. He paused. “If you were serious, the answer is yes,” he continued in French. Sam frowned for a few moments, mentally translating. When it clicked, he sort of-- twitched. “Really?” “Yeah.” Bucky bit his lower lip briefly before switching back to English. “I’ve been sleeping fine the last couple months. Just been gettin’ up early to see you.” “Jesus, Barnes. We’re a couple of idiots,” Sam said, laughing slightly. “So have I. We coulda been sleeping in all this time, man.” “Dunno. I don’t mind.” Bucky’s eyes were on him, intense and searching. If you were serious, the answer is yes. Slowly, tentatively, the two men edged towards each other and found that the answer was an emphatic oui. Sarah W. 💗: OMG SAM UR MAKING OUT WITH HIM Sarah W. 💗: Sam do u know u still have your camera on Sarah W. 💗: EW EW EW OK BYE

[gaiatheorist]

Dark.

(There’s a thing in the Guardian implying that more intelligent people than ‘average’ ones tend towards a sick sense of humour.)

Online-twat-trawl, as per standard operating procedure first thing in the morning, to see if I’d drunkenly declared my love for whatever I was watching on TV. (Black Sails, the new season isn’t on air in the UK until tomorrow, and I hadn’t.) I noticed that the ex was ‘on’ Fakebook at about 5am, and my initial thought, apart from the now-reducing rage, that the man tended to survive on about 4 hours sleep a night, was “Have you STILL not gone to bed, knobhead?” Microcosm-anger, that he used to stay up until 3 or 4am, watching endless 1980s electro-music videos on YouTube, with the volume at some ludicrous level, due to his probable industrial deafness.

It will have been the blue lights that kept him awake this time, another person suspected to have died by suicide, after a ‘fall’ from the multi-storey car-park opposite the ex’s flat. There’s every chance it will have kept my son awake as well. My various bits of training on suicide, and critical incidents tell me I should check in with the boy. I will, but my assessment at this stage is that he’s not ‘at risk’, I’ve given him that much resilience. The ex is at risk, he was always prone to suicidal thoughts, and might see ‘stepping off’ as a viable option. (Dark-side head knows that would have little effect on me, but also knows which possessions of his are still here, in case I end up paying for the funeral.)

Wider darkness, ‘Theresa the appeaser’ is trending on Twitter. I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes right now. The country is on its arse, and she’s twatting about, making alliances, as politicians are expected to do, initially deflecting questions about the Very Dangerous Man and his fucking stupid ban. Someone must have had a word in her ear at some point, because around 1am, a staff member released a statement, saying she didn’t agree, rather than the vague-flimsy “That’s none of our business.” she’d spouted previously. Dangerous game, there, Theresa, history will remember that initial no-comment, a wider version of that horrible dinner-lady at my son’s primary school, who responded “Well, he’s not doing it NOW, is he?”, when my boy reported that her son was kicking him. 

I deviated, I do that a lot. Mrs May is not a dinner-lady, and that rancid amalgamation of fake tan and half-finished sentences isn’t a wayward six-year-old. Is he? He’s effectively throwing a strop, and taking his ball home, because he doesn’t want the other kids to play with it. On a global scale. With nuclear weapons and shit. OK, he’s not taking his nukes home to stop the other kids getting a go on them, he’s doing the opposite. Which is, quite frankly, terrifying.

He’s doing that thing a certain kind of new boss does, striking the tone, making the rules, showing he’s in charge. Aside from the observations that the man’s a loose cannon, and a misogynistic, xenophobic, self-centred one at that; there’s a man in the White House that can’t be trusted with his own Twitter account. The Guardian’s ‘100 days’ section has a column for ‘people/things insulted’. More astute observers than myself have noted that his ‘list’ of countries-of-origin seems rather arbitrary, he might have pulled them out of a hat for all we know. The US judge who granted the detainees leave to remain had his people parrot-back what she was trying to tell them. I’m not flicking back into the article now, but she said “You have no proof these people intend any harm.”, and they said “You have no proof they don’t, we need more time to establish that.” Yeah, maybe you might have thought of that BEFORE you started chucking people off planes?

It’s a clusterfuck, we’re only a week in, and I can’t rightly judge whether ‘we’ are going to get RSI from shaking our heads before he sprains his dick from swinging it. The cartoons, depicting him as a baby, the superimposed image of one of his bits of magic paper covered in crayon-scribble, we’re on the edge of the apocalypse, and the smiles are somewhat strained. This omnishambles is real, I’m not from one of the ‘banned’ countries of origin, for fuck’s sake, I don’t even have a passport, but what else is he signing off? Is nobody checking him? Are his people just kowtowing and reassuring him he’s GREAT, while he tramples human rights to mush? What’s he going to do next?

Three days before the brain haemorrhage that almost killed me, someone said something that stuck with me, “It’s cheaper to catch them before they fall than to fish them out.” The man who ‘fell’ from the multi-storey car-park, and global civilisation, we’re in some pretty dark days, and I’m not sure how much more dark humour we can wring out of these situations. We’re the band on the Titanic, carrying on, some more calmly than others, and the world leaders scrabbling to acquaint themselves with a billionaire tyrant make me uneasy. Might is not always right, and political pussyfooting around the orange manbaby in the hope of securing access to trade and funding, all the while knowing that he’s wrong is just as wrong as he is. I’m not a doctor, but I stand by my original head-shaking muttering at the news while he campaigned. He’s a fucking nutter, in my opinion, which I think I’m still allowed?