#because seeing that email made me feel sick to my stomach

[myname-isnia]

*wakes up*

*grabs phone*

*email notification*

*new comment on SotRL*

*throws phone to the far side of adjacent couch*

*goes back to sleep*

[restwellsoon]

Nothing in Particular | 3 - What's in a Name?

Pairing: Omota Uramichi x F!Reader

Summary: A series of unexpected encounters and misunderstandings causes you to fill a large and gaping hole in Uramichi’s life.

Minors and blank blogs DNI! You will be blocked!

Warning: Uramichi jerkin' it <3

Your to-go containers sat innocently on Uramichi’s counter as he passed them each day. You hadn’t seen each other in weeks despite the promise to do so more often. Usahara mentioned something called ghosting, where things seemed like they were going very well, then the other person would disappear without a trace. Was that happening to him?

He shook his head. No, it couldn’t be because you texted several times a week. Were you actually talking though?

Hi, when are you free? Sorry, overtime again.  How was your day? Ugh, busy. Good morning! Good night!

Leaning against the counter, he analyzed your conversation until unexpectedly your photo ID popped up on his screen, making him jump. He waited a few seconds before answering it. You hadn’t called him before.

Bumping the call volume to its max setting, his ears still strained to hear you. All he could tell was that you were talking to a man, though he couldn’t hear the words clearly. His stomach sank. He should have known that things were too good to be true. Rather than letting the masochistic side of him win and continue to listen, his finger hovered over the ‘end call’ button.

“Huh? Ura…?” You said, voice suddenly clear. “Excuse me, Sakumoto, there’s something I need to take care of. I expect an email with more details by the end of tomorrow.”

Had he been listening this entire time, or was this a long voicemail? “Uramichi…?”

He said your name. “Hello?” 

Fiddling with the pen on your desk, you smiled when you heard him speak. “Sorry for the random call! I’m still at work right now, trying to tie up loose ends for that team dinner on Friday.”

Ah, so it wasn’t what he thought it was. That sick feeling in his stomach disappeared as he hummed, scrolling back a few days to see that you did mention having to plan something nice for your team.

Putting away your things and slinging your bag around your shoulder, you pulled out your earbuds to keep your hands free. “You’re quiet,” you noted. “Guess I must have disturbed ya, huh?” 

He shook his head even though you couldn’t see him. “No, I’m just a little tired. I just got back from the gym.” A part of him was waiting for a comment about being a gorilla or that he was a meathead.

Pushing past the front door, you didn’t bother to give your workplace another glance. You were too busy thinking of a sweaty Uramichi lifting weights and breathing heavily. His face probably flushed easily and his sweat made his hair stick to his forehead. You thought of the way his Adam's apple moved as he gulped down water. Good thing you were done for the day–and good lord, was it already night?--because your thoughts were definitely NSFW.

“Ooh, look at you. Good job,” you said. “I’ll let you get your rest then.”

He gripped the edge of the counter, somehow not expecting that answer. Was it only him that wanted to talk longer? Ah, but you said you were just leaving work. He looked at the clock. It read a god awful 8:30 PM. 

“Oh, and Michi? It was so nice to hear your voice.” He could hear your smile. Did you actually mean that? He found himself smiling back at your words. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

---

Smokes in hand, Uramichi stiffened when he felt an unknown presence stalking behind him. It couldn’t have been Amon. He was out on vacation. Besides, this person’s aura felt far too menacing compared to the creative producer.

“Oh, Uramichi oniisan~” Utano sang from behind. When he didn’t stop, her voice dropped. “Hey, we need to talk.”

He was a few paces from the smoke room, and slowly he turned to see if he could make a run for it. Utano was somehow behind him, but at the very least she was pushing him towards where he wanted to go.

“I heard you and my friend had a lovely chat a while ago,” she said. At least she let him light up his cigarette before their break was over.

Uramichi took a quick puff, letting the smoke dissipate slowly upwards. “How’d you know?”

Giving him a look before rolling her eyes, she should have known that this was an Uramichi–and an Usahara and Iketeru too–type question. The lack of experience with women was obvious.

“Duh, we’re friends . We tell each other everything.” 

He smoked a bit more without saying anything. He considered him and Nekota friends but certainly didn’t share all the details of his life with him. Kumatani, Iketeru, and Usahara were in the same boat too. There were things about each other that they didn’t know and didn’t care to know either. What was the point in knowing everything about someone’s life?

“So is everything good?” She asked, annoyed with his silence. 

“Uhh, yes?”

Utano assessed his facial expression and body language. Uramichi’s arms weren’t crossed, letting his hand that held the cigarette dangle at his side. His ankles weren’t crossed either, meaning he wasn’t hiding anything or acting defensive. He spoke and looked at her with a confused expression. Even though he wasn’t as much of a liar as Kumatani or Usahara, she still couldn’t trust him. He didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like Iketeru and lacked their kouhai’s brutal honesty too.

“Good,” she smiled.

She’s weird when she’s cryptic, Uramichi thought. “Why do you ask?”

Continuing her assessment, she noted that his mood has been more stable these days too. Naturally, she attributed it to your good work.

In her grating cheerful work voice, she spoke, “Things are better when we get along.”

“Huh?”

Deciding that she was done with him, Utano offered a few last words to a bewildered Uramichi. “Make sure you treat my friend well… or else! ☆”

“Chicks are pretty scary,” he mumbled to himself as he ashed the end of his cigarette onto the tray. What was the point of their conversation?

---

Uramichi just needed to get through the work week. His final obstacle before he could enjoy his weekend was a dreaded dinner that the station decided to throw in his honor. Apparently, he was in the running to win a Galaxy Award for outstanding television host, which was a surprise since he didn’t consider himself one. Regardless, his win would give MHK and their show more fame, which equaled more views and more revenue. He hoped that it also meant a bigger paycheck. 

He doubted it though as he followed the directions to an upscale restaurant in Roppongi. The station would rather splurge on luxuries like these instead of paying their workers what they were worth. 

Tugging at his tie, he loosened it a bit before stepping inside. The only time he ever dressed up was when he had to give official interviews as a gymnast and at the year-end work party. He couldn’t wait to dress down into something more comfortable.

The bathroom mirror’s bright lights showed every pore and wrinkle you had as you did one last once over on your appearance. Sticking to your rule to be overdressed instead of under, you smoothed over your clothes, making sure you looked neat. Your dress fit tighter than you’d like, an oversight you made by changing your outfit last minute. At the very least, your hair and makeup looked good.

Your assistant, Sakumoto, had done well with his assignment. Your goal was to make the teams that you managed feel appreciated. After all, you had asked a lot out of them in the past quarter, and their quiet grumbles and complaints weren’t completely lost on you. 

It was a shame that he couldn’t rent out the entire place. Sure, your boss wouldn’t have liked how much you spent, but you’d been in your position long enough to know how to write off certain expenses. It’d be worth it too, you could argue, to have happy employees.

Leaving the bathroom and entering the dining room, you were confused to see Sakumoto and two other supervisors, Hasegawa and Iwamoto, crowding around what was obviously the other party that had the other half of the restaurant. Other staff joined their crowd, and quickly you rushed to assess the situation.

“Uramichi oniisan! Love your work, buddy. If it weren’t for you, my wife and I would be going insane. Jotaru uses up all of his energy doing those ABC calisthenics!”

You turned at the sound of your name. “Utano?”

Giving you a hug, she pulled you aside, giving the crowd a glance. “Hey girly! I didn’t know you were doing your team dinner here. Oh my gosh, we should totally merge parties.” You both looked at the intermingled groups. “I didn’t know that a lot of people on your team were huge fans!”

Sakumoto was chatting with the director while Hasegawa and Iwamoto talked to Iketeru. The other staff continued to surround Uramichi and two other actors that Utano said were the mascots. You hummed, “Yeah, I didn’t know either.”

While Usahara and Kumatani bickered and the other people made their way to Iketeru and the Derekida, Uramichi tried to find a viable escape route from this exhausting social situation. Instead, his eyes spotted you and Utano talking.

He called out your name, making you turn from your conversation. You weren’t sure why you were expecting him to be in exercise gear, especially when Utano herself was dressed up, but you were pleasantly surprised to see how well he cleaned up. This look gave him the aura of a true TV star.

“No way,” you heard Akane, a new hire that you already had to keep an eye on, whisper loudly. “How does our boss know such a hottie?”

Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen you in a while, but Uramichi couldn’t help but blurt out that you looked nice. Utano watched the exchange with the pleased look of a successful matchmaker before giving you space (and so she could watch from afar).

“I could say the same about yourself,” you said, giving him one last look for good measure. It’d be the only casual comment you’d give him. You had to remind yourself that you were at a work event and needed to be professional.

You could already see your staff gathering around you both. Good. You didn’t have to herd them to the correct side.

“I see some of you have already met the stars of Together with Maman, like my dear friend Ms. Tadano as well as Mr. Omota and Mr. Daga along with other members of their production team. It seems like they’re here for their own celebration, so let’s be respectful of that and give them some space.”

Utano waved after her introduction as did Iketeru. Unfortunately, Uramichi was different.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” he told them, then turned to you, “and please, call me Uramichi.”

“We love you, Uramichi!! I can get laid in the morning because of ya’ll!”

Shooting a glare at Daiki, you mouthed that you’d talk to him later. Daiki paled.

Clapping your hands, you hoped that the team would finally get the cue that you wanted them to leave the Together with Maman team the fuck alone. You hated having to repeat yourself. You also didn’t want to look bad in front of Uramichi.

“Thanks so much for being so welcoming, Mr. Omota. Now let’s get ready for dinner and drinks, team!”

Why were you calling him Omota again? Didn’t you both agree to call each other by your names? “No need to be so formal,” he reminded you. “I don’t care what they call me, but you should call me by my requested name.”

Utano snickered behind her drink as you stared at Uramichi blankly. After knowing Uramichi for years, she knew exactly what he was doing. He really wanted to feel close to you. In a way, she felt sorry for questioning his sincerity and motives towards you earlier. This man was unknowingly dealing with an adult crush, and he was so fucking cringe.

Surprisingly, it was Usahara who had come to your rescue, pulling Uramichi away while Kumatani followed behind them. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for you. “Quit bullying her, bro. That’s not how you get chicks.”

Bullying? Uramichi only wanted to be less formal with you. 

To prove his point, Usahara turned back at you and winked, earning a very bewildered look out of you. Quickly, you returned to your team.

Despite the unexpected introduction and mingling, the team dinner had gone without a hitch. Your team was happy, full, and drunk, which you hoped meant that they would continue to keep up the good work. You hoped that you could pay them off with good food and booze until the end of the year, or at least until your own annual review.

Unfortunately, being the host meant that you were the last to leave. Paying the bill, you sighed. Exhaustion made the alcohol hit your system quicker. At least you wouldn’t look like a fool in front of your co-workers.

It was a shame though. You wanted to hang out with Utano more, but your friend had left about an hour prior with her boyfriend. You wouldn’t want to be a third wheel with them anyway.

With no one left from your company, you left the restaurant, pausing when you saw a familiar person smoking outside.

“I thought you left a while ago,” you told Uramichi. 

He couldn’t say that he was stalling just to see you. “Yeah,” he exhaled, “they threw this party because of me, so it’d be rude if I was the first to leave.”

You nodded. “Utano told me about your nomination. Congrats!”

Trying to downplay his achievement, he shrugged out a thanks and tossed his cig in the trash. “Anyway, let’s head to the station. We might miss the last train.”

Following in his step, you teased him, “Uh-oh. Don’t tell me that you’re gonna walk me home after.”

He gave you a look. “Strong, independent women in their 30s still need to be protected late at night, especially when they’ve had a bit to drink.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

---

Ugh, the ride back home would take a half-hour. Clutching your purse in your lap, you leaned forward in your seat while Uramichi stood in front of you. The alcohol was really hitting and had you wondering if you really had overdone it. You closed your eyes as you tried to stop the spins from getting to you. 

The train car grew emptier with each stop, and soon its movement lulled you to sleep. 

Your head rested on something more comfortable than your hands, and you nuzzled your face into whatever it was. 

Uramichi mumbled your name in a strangled voice, “Hey, um, could you uh, could you move?”

Why would you need to do that? Opening your eyes, you saw his zipper, then looked more and saw a bulge. Oh.

Jolting up, you sat back into your seat, relieved that no one was around to see you. Somehow, the fact that you were alone was worse. The subway air felt thick each time the door opened. Uramichi’s cheeks were flushed. Your new position didn’t change the fact that you were eye-level with his boner.

Sliding into the seat beside you, he pointed towards his arm. “You can rest still if you want. We have about twenty more minutes until we reach our stop.” His blush spread to his ears and down his neck. “I think this way will be more comfortable for both of us.”

Wrapping your arms around his, you took him up on that offer.

“How ‘bout one more drink before the night ends?” You asked, getting a second wind from your power nap as well as newfound sobriety. You stretched your arms overhead, a bit stiff from sleeping while sitting up.

Although Uramichi said that leaning on his shoulder would be more comfortable, it was a lie. Asleep, your arms fell limp. One hand covered his own while the other laid precariously on his lap. Your knees bumped into his thigh, and your breasts pressed into his arm. 

Honestly, all he wanted was some relief from this unintentional torture you put him through, but it was difficult to refuse you.

Trying to think of what was open, the two of you had limited options. The konbini, Cat Kick… Oh. That place might work, if you were willing.

“My place is right there,” he said sheepishly while pointing out his building. “I have a few bottles if you don’t mind something a bit stronger than beer.”

“Ah, the really nice apartments,” you noted. Uramichi lived in the high-rise that had its own doorsman.

Uramichi tried to find other reasons why you should go to his place instead of a bar; any reason would do to make him seem less creepy. “Oh! And I still have your containers from last time.”

“Right. I was really missing those actually,” you winked, “so I guess I might as well stop by and get them.”

There was a skip in your step as you followed him home.

---

Taking a good look at his apartment, you tried to memorize everything you could, in case you’d never see this place again. Despite all of his accolades and trophies, his walls and shelves were surprisingly devoid of any of that. The only hint that Uramichi might even be into any sport at all were the dumbbells and hand grips he had in a corner and some workout magazines on the table.

“I’ll have what you’re having,” you said as you made yourself comfortable at the table. 

Uramichi looked up from what he was doing. He was already pouring himself a large glass of whiskey on the rocks.

You looked at him, then the cup while Uramichi grew conscious about just how much he drank. You regretted saying what you did as he continued to pour. He only stopped just a hair before it would overflow. 

And because of social etiquette, he slowly pushed the glass towards you, not spilling a drop despite your hopes. With a tight smile, you accepted it.

“You really don’t have to finish that,” he said, pouring himself an identical glass.

“Oh, it’s fine!” You smiled. “You poured it for me, and I asked for it. It’d be rude not to drink it all.”

Life left your eyes as you swallowed hard to get through the burn.

Coughing, you asked him, “So how was the rest of your night? Sorry about my co-workers. I didn’t know that they were fans.”

He shrugged, “I’ve had worse conversations from parents. But yeah, the rest of the night was fine.” He was hoping that the two parties would merge, but you seemed hellbent on keeping your team in line.

Taking a smaller sip, you said, “I didn’t realize how popular you are. Now I’m kind of worried that there might be more competition than I realized.”

“With the kids program?” He asked.

Before you could say that no , you were not talking about the kids program, respectfully fuck the program, and that you were trying your hardest to flirt with him, Uramichi continued to speak.

“I mean, there are a few other educational programs out there, but a lot of ‘em nowadays are more focused on entertainment. Honestly, I think it’s a bit overstimulating for the targeted age group.”

You finished the rest of your drink in two large gulps, wiping away the tears in your eyes and mumbling about the burn. “Is that so?” You coughed. “Well, that makes you even more amazing.”

How had he finished his drink before you? He made zero indication that he even drank at all–no coughing, no wincing, nothing.

“Actually, I think what you do is more amazing instead. One of your kouhais was telling me that you’re one of the youngest regional managers at the company.”

“It’s not that impressive,” you admitted. “I just… do the bare minimum, which is apparently still too much compared to others–that’s how I fast-tracked it to my current position. And what did it get me other than a slightly larger salary and a significantly larger amount of work?” You shook your head. “I should have spent my 20s at the club or going on gokons.”

“Oh… is that what you’re into?”

“Not really,” you swirled the ice around in your cup. “I guess I feel like I missed out on a lot of things because of work?” 

As a child, you were sold the lie that girls could have it all–a career, a family, and a fulfilling social life–and it was only in adulthood that you realized how difficult it was to balance all three. You never dated because you were too busy getting promotions. Your friend group slowly dropped off as each of you submitted to social expectations and life’s demands. All you had was this shitty job that you needed in order to live.

Uramichi felt the same way with his gymnastics career. The fame and glory meant nothing when it felt like he was falling behind and failing at life.

You rambled on, “I mean, we didn’t even get to have dinner together or see each other until now.”

Somehow your honesty embarrassed him, just like when you spoke on the phone. You made him feel important.

“I’m happy that we’re able to be together now though,” he said, “ alone too.”

Were your feelings finally getting across to him? Maybe he was an honest drunk.

“Is that so, Michi?” Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much around him.

His mouth twisted into a pout. “Aw, don’t play cute by calling me that when it’s just us.”

“I knew that was what you wanted me to call you at the restaurant! Why ?”

There was an innocent look in Uramichi’s eyes. They sparkled with hope and misunderstanding.  “Didn’t we agree to call each other by our first names? It felt like you were going back on your promise.”

That little devil!

“Well, uh, yeah,” you trailed off, recalling that embarrassing incident at the market, “but not while I’m at work! People will be suspicious!”

“Suspicious of what?” He asked, all charm gone from his features and voice. He was serious, as if he didn’t know what you were talking about.

Now that you thought about it, what would that imply? It seemed like a lot of people were on a first-name basis with Uramichi, and people called out to him like that because of his work. It was something that you could easily get away with. Was there anything to be suspicious about between you and Uramichi? Maybe you were just friends or had known each other for a long time. No one knew your history together. How did he see you anyway?

Your dark thoughts only grew darker because of the alcohol, and you fell into an all-consuming spiral. You looked up from your glass, laughing. “You’re right. I guess I’m overthinking things!”

Standing up, you thought it’d be best to leave before you did something embarrassing. “Anyways, I think I should go now.”

The clock read that it was nearly two in the morning. “No way,” Uramichi said firmly, holding you by the wrist. “It’s late, and you’re drunk.”

The problem with alcohol was that it was hard to notice how hard it hit you until you started moving. Everything was spinning, and your body felt heavy and slow. “It's fine!” You tried to argue and pull away. “‘‘m fine!”

---

And as life would have it, things were not fine as you woke up to the sun peeking in through the curtains, strategically blinding you. Groaning, your head pounded from the hangover. You were hoping that all you’d feel today was some photosensitivity and a headache instead of wasting your day by the toilet.

Turning from the sun, your leg wrapped around something that was firm yet soft. You felt the mattress. It definitely wasn’t yours. The sheets didn’t smell like your sheets either. They smelled like…You buried your head into the pillow. A man?!

You employed all the techniques that your company equipped you with for stress management: breathe deeply, express gratitude, ground yourself in the present… Ugh, that was all a load of shit in this situation!

You recalled everything you could from last night: team dinner, train, Uramichi’s place, you hurt your own feelings after drinking too much, then left. You left… right? All you could remember were your intentions to leave and spilling water on your clothes, then changing out of them right after.

Which meant that this bed and these sheets were Uramichi’s.

And the person that you were cuddling was…

“What the fuck?!”

You were met with the blank stare of some disgusting human-bird chimera. Trying to avoid its judgemental gaze, you weren’t sure if you should look at its beak or lips, eventually settling on its bright blue buttoned top. Why the hell was it human-sized too?

“You’re not Uramichi!”

In your fright, you threw the creature with all your strength. It landed a foot away from the bed with a thud.

A shirt that wasn’t yours pooled at the tops of your thighs as you sat, tickling your bare legs. You grabbed your boobs. No bra on either. Shifting, you were grateful that at least your panties were still on. Could you and Uramichi really have…?

Hearing your movement from the bed, Uramichi laid still while contemplating what to do next after last night. He didn’t fully understand why you were upset but couldn’t let you leave in that condition. The water he offered you spilled on your clothes. His plan to walk you home after an hour of sobering up failed.

“Could I borrow a shirt?” You asked before stripping off your wet dress. 

Did you not see him as a man? He wondered as he quickly gathered the dress you threw, nearly getting hit by your bra. He threw your clothes in the dryer as he fought his body’s urge to turn around.

He would have suggested that you laid down, but you already claimed his bed as yours, patting the open spot in front of you.

“Michi?” You asked him, lying on your side with your head resting on your hand. “Aren’t you gonna come?”

The whiskey drunk was slow when it wanted to be but could hit the drinker like a truck just as easily.

“Only if you’ll let me,” he stammered out. 

God, he could hear himself and he prayed for death. He sounded like a virgin, not that it was anything to be ashamed of, but that was something that he wasn’t. He didn’t want you to think that he was a completely inexperienced and inept fool. Maybe he’d just blame all of this on the alcohol.

How could he not be tempted and feel the things that men felt when you were in his bed like that? His shirt clung to parts of your body that it shouldn’t: hanging onto the contour of your hard nipples, bunching up at your waist. Your panties were dark and lacy.

“Well?”

This could be his only chance, he thought, as he did his best to get rid of his clothes. Nearly choking himself out with his tie, his shirt was next. His fingers fumbled with his belt buckle.

Stepping out of his pants, he was met with disappointment. You were already asleep. Fate was cruel. How could anyone fall asleep that fast?

Disappointment brought back his senses, and he resigned to getting the guest futon. When he came back, to add even more insult to injury, he saw that disgustingly large stuffie of Kotori-san snuggled against your body, upside down so its face was buried between your thighs. That could have been him! It should have been him! He glared at that abomination as he laid out the bedding on the floor..

Leaning over the edge of the bed, Uramichi’s back was turned towards you. He slept shirtless, and you wondered if that was normal or because of the heat. He wasn’t even flexing, but you could see the definition of his back. You told yourself that you were reaching out to him to see if he was awake, not because you were some kind of perv.

“Uramichi?” You tentatively asked, giving his shoulder a soft prod. 

That was his cue to turn over. Using his best just-woke-up-but-not-really voice, he mumbled a low ‘good morning’ while stretching out on his back.

“Morning! Would–” His blanket dropped lower, revealing chiseled abs and a tease of his boxer’s waistband. It also revealed a very noticeable tent where his cock was. You caught yourself. “Would you happen to know where my clothes are?”

The sexual frustration and tension from last hit you two harder than your hangovers as you both stared at each other for a moment. Everything you felt last night was bubbling up, and in some weak attempt at protection, you grabbed his sheet to cover up.

“They’re in the dryer,” he said, scrambling to get up. You saw the rest of his perfect body. “I’ll grab ‘em.”

Pointing out the bathroom, he handed off your dress, and you scurried there while he headed to the balcony to smoke.

In the bathroom, you went over last night’s events again. You and Uramichi seemed to have done nothing explicit at all, but he had to have some interest in you, right? There was no way he’d let any woman that he was merely acquainted with sleep in his bed. He was kind though, so maybe he was just being polite?

Coming out of the bathroom with his shirt folded, you thanked him for taking care of you and apologized for any trouble that you might have caused. He stared at you with his cigarette hanging off his lips, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’ll be heading out now,” you told him, not giving him a chance to even see you off. You hoped that you could quickly walk off your embarrassment.

Putting out the cig, he trailed behind you. There were so many things he wanted to say. 

“Wait!” He tried to call out. It only made you walk faster. “I wanted to,”–The front door slammed as he stood in the hallway–“at least kiss you goodbye.”

---

“‘Scuse me!” You called out in a hurry, pushing past two guys to make sure you caught the elevator down. Your walk of shame started now, and the fact that you didn’t even fuck made it even worse.

“Man,” Usahara commented, glancing back to make sure you weren’t waiting by the lift, “hope she’s not late for work. It’s past noon.”

“Probably is,” Kumatani shrugged, trying to think of why you looked so familiar. Nothing came to mind. “Oh well. Think Uramichi will let us in? He hasn’t answered any of our calls or texts, so I hope he didn’t forget about today.”

Swinging the bag of alcohol he brought, Usahara laughed. “That dude? No way! I bet this is the only thing he’s got goin’ on for the weekend. Well, this, and hitting up the gym.” 

The door opened to reveal an exhausted Uramichi, now dressed in athleisure as he quickly tidied up his apartment. Thankfully, his phone’s ringer was on, and he saw the texts in their group chat.

“Yo dude, you look like death,” Usahara said first, pushing his way past the disgruntled man to throw some drinks in the fridge.

There was something off about their senpai and his place, but he couldn’t place what. Kumatani felt it too.

“Yeah, more so than usual. You sure you’re still up to watch this movie?”

Uramichi sighed, closing the door. “Well, you’ve already made yourselves at home, haven’t you? Even if I said no, I don’t think you would leave.”

Settling into his spot at the table, Uramichi thought about how last night you were across from him sharing a drink. Now you were replaced by his meddlesome kouhais who were making a mess of all the snacks and drinks they laid out on the table. His eye twitched.

Naturally, Usahara was the first to dig into Uramichi’s odder than ordinary behavior. Usually he was annoyed, but today he seemed standoffish and annoyed. “So what gives, man? You stayed up late partying? Someone took too long on your fave machine at the gym?”

Oddly, Utano’s voice cheerfully saying that friends tell each other everything popped into his head. Perhaps now was the perfect opportunity to get closer to the guys he spent nearly a decade hanging around.

“Nah, was up late drinking with a friend,” he admitted while looking off at the TV screen.

His two juniors exchanged looks. They left before he did, deciding to hang out with Nekota at Cat Kick, so Uramichi couldn’t have been talking about them.

“Oh, I didn’t know that you and Kikaku were close like that,” Kumatani said.

Huh? Kikaku? Why would they bring up his name? Uramichi imagined the offense that Kikaku would have at their misunderstanding.

“No, I didn’t drink with Kikaku.”

“Uebu then?”

An even more outlandish suggestion.

“No…”

Neither cared to take anymore guesses as the opening credits for Mozphoon played. Kumatani swore to them that this B-grade horror movie would become a cult classic. After all, had anyone seen a movie that involved mutant mosquitoes terrorizing the city via a typhoon before?

As they were about to leave, Usahara finally realized the cause of the odd vibe he felt at Uramichi’s. 

“Dude, did you finally put away your weights?”

Yeah, for the first time in forever, he hadn’t stubbed his toe or tripped over the damn thing. That had to be why things felt different today.

---

With his friends gone, Uramichi sighed. Normally he cleared his head by smoking, but right now, he surprisingly wasn’t in the mood. Perhaps it was because today drained him. He stripped down to his boxers and laid in bed, closing his eyes. His thoughts wandered back to you.

Your tits, your lips, the way that you laughed. He imagined the way your panties would feel against his palms while he grabbed your ass. His ears burned red whenever you said his name.

His raging hard on provided an obvious solution to help him gather his thoughts.

Palming himself, he wasn’t sure why he was so hesitant. Was it because it was you ? His sex drive was low–a deadly combo of stress, depression, drinking, smoking, and the inevitable drop of T that came with aging–and when he actually was in the mood, he usually browsed for sites. It felt wrong to do this without your permission, but this also wasn’t necessarily something he could ask permission for.

“Michi? Aren’t you gonna come?” You asked, giving him that soft, buzzing smile. 

When his hand laid still against his cock, you tilted your head and spoke in an impatient inflection, “Well?”

God, he was pathetic. You didn’t even mean it like that, and here he was, harder than he’d ever been in recent memory, cockhead dripping pre when he finally pulled it out. 

It wasn’t even your looks that were driving him crazy. It was the way you made him feel. His heart pounded in his ears when you called his name. He grew giddy when he’d see your texts. And when it was just you and him–

Smearing the pre down his shaft, he let his mind wander, no longer caring how desperate and needy he got. It was already obvious that he neglected his needs as a man for too long. Every stroke felt like heaven, and his balls ached, ready for release.

Adjusting his grip to the way he liked, he tugged, wishing you were the one touching him instead. Uramichi thought of you greeting him good morning and good night, calling to tell him that you missed him during the day. He thought of you getting ready for work and welcoming him home after he was done at his. 

Carefully reaching down to grab his shirt from the floor, he used it to wipe up the mess he made. After, he stared at the ceiling, waiting for that post-nut clarity to go into effect. And when it didn’t, he sighed, his hand wandering downwards. Guess he’d have to try again.

A/N: Not sure what's gotten into me. I never update this quickly lol. Maybe it's because I've been binging the men's gymnastics portion of the Olympics? But thanks for reading, ya'll. I've been having a lot of fun with this fic.

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Nothing in Particular | fic cover

Life Lessons Masterlist

AO3

[jennay]

That's my Spot

An: Just some cute fluff no warnings.

Summary: Jolly and Reader keep running into each other at a local cafe.

If you want to be tagged in Jolly stuff let me know!i

For a week, you had been caught in a silent flirtation. Every day, you would enter the coffee shop, plug in your laptop and phone, and order your usual drink.

He would be there, too, sitting by the cozy fireplace with a book in his hand. He had long, straight hair that fell down the sides of his cheeks and a black sweater with a band logo that gave him a rock star vibe. He always wore sunglasses when he came in but would take them off as soon as he opened his book.

You wondered what color his eyes were and what kind of books he liked to read. You also wondered what his name was and what he did for a living. Was he a student, a writer, a musician, or something else?

Sometimes, your eyes would meet and linger, but neither of you would say anything. You had work to do, and he had his reading. You wanted to talk to him, but you kept telling yourself that he was just a fellow coffee lover and only being friendly because you saw each other so often.

You didn't want to make a fool of yourself by approaching him and finding out he had a girlfriend, or worse, he wasn't interested in you. You were too shy to make the first move and hoped he would do it someday.

Out of the corner of your eye, you admired him. You thought stupid things like, how long did it take to grow his hair that long? Why did he always come in looking like a rock star? Why did he wear sunglasses inside until he started to read? What was his choice of drink, and who reads as much as he does?

You imagined he was a deep thinker, a passionate reader, a mysterious stranger. You wanted to know more about him but didn't know how to start a conversation.

You quietly giggle, hiding your face behind your laptop as you read your emails. The most silly part was he made you think all these things without even saying a word to you. He had a power over you, a magnetic attraction that drew you to him. You felt a flutter in your stomach every time you saw him and a warmth in your cheeks whenever he looked at you.

You stood up, leaving your things unattended; you'd been here so many times you weren't worried about people stealing your things. You'd been going here off and on for over a year. You were addicted to the atmosphere and how the Barista always knew your name. You loved that they could have your order going when they saw you. You mostly loved that you always got your seat by the window to watch everyone walking by; you were curious about their lives even if you'd never know.

"Vanilla Latte?" The Barista asks.

You nod your head, "Of course." You smile, "Can I have it iced today?"

He smiles widely, "Oh?" He questions, "We're switching things up I see. What's the occasion?"

You shrug your shoulders, "I just feel like being spontaneous. Maybe I'm sick." You joke. "That was a bad joke." You nervously laugh, "I don't have covid or anything like that." You take a deep breath, "I'm gonna stand over here in shame now." You shake your head, thoroughly embarrassed by your actions. You wondered if people could tell you didn't get out much. You heard snickering from where your mystery guy sat, but he dug his nose back in his book when you looked over. Cool. You thought you made an ass out of yourself, and people heard it.

The Barista calls your name, and you thank him for your drink. Your cheeks are red as you walk back to your spot; you hide your face in your laptop, never wanting to be seen again. You sip your iced vanilla latte and try to focus on your work, but you can't help stealing glances at him. You wonder if he thinks about you outside this place like you did about him.

You returned to the café, as you did every weekday morning, following your unbreakable routine. Today, you skipped the coffee line. You skipped everything, even though you had planned on treating yourself to a latte as soon as your meeting was over.

You only had about five minutes to set up your laptop and join the online chat. You couldn't afford to be late, even though you desperately craved your caffeine fix.

You froze in your tracks, seeing him sitting at your table. The one by the window, with the power outlet and the cozy cushion. The one that you always occupied, without fail. The one that kept you sane in the midst of your hectic schedule.

You had difficulty adapting to change, and it was about to show. You didn't have time to confront him. You didn't have time to politely ask him to move, not that you would. You were not the type to cause a scene, and you didn't have any claim to the damn spot.

Instead, you settled for the table across from him, feeling panic as you tossed all your belongings on the table and hastily plugged your laptop in. You put your headphones on and press the speak button on your mic. "Yep, I'm ready when you guys are." You said in a rushed tone. "Go ahead whenever you're ready. I'll be in the background and let you know if I hear anything odd on the recording." You assured your coworker.

You tilted your head back, staring at the ceiling. You felt like a fool as you shifted your legs around; you even attempted to put your legs over the chair beside you and lean against the wall while you listened to them talk. You gave up on sitting comfortably. Your eyes met his, and you gave him a small smile, finally noticing that his eyes were a deep shade of brown. "Nope," you said. "It still sounds clear on this end."

You tap your fingers nervously on the table, feeling restless and annoyed by the people standing behind you and everyone who keeps passing you. It was distracting. You couldn't focus on the meeting, which was already boring enough. You wondered why you had to attend this online conference when you could have just watched the recording later. You had no interest in the topic and didn't know anyone else in the virtual room. You felt like you were wasting your time.

You put your hands in your lap and close your eyes, trying to ignore everything as you continue to listen. The speaker droned on and on, using jargon and acronyms that made no sense to you.

You wished you could mute him or, better yet, leave the meeting. But you had to stay because your boss expected you to. You sighed, hoping the session would end soon.

Your eyes snap open when you hear something set on your table. You stare down at the cup in front of you and see him walking back to his table.

You peek over your laptop to see him smile as he sits down again. You smile like a child, thankful for your gift. You mouth thank you to him and take a sip of your coffee; he knows your order.

It shouldn't feel as special as it did, but no one seemed to remember small details about you, and this was new.

He had never done anything like this before. He had never acknowledged you except for the occasional eye contact and nod. He had never spoken to you or even asked your name. He had never shown any sign that he noticed or cared about you.

But now, he had bought you a coffee. He had made a gesture that said he wanted to connect with you. He had made you feel something you hadn't felt in a long time. He had made you happy.

It's not until fifteen minutes later, when you're ending your meeting that you see writing on the cup, not just an order but something he'd written. "Sorry, I took your spot. Come sit with me?" You read the words, and your mouth slightly drops. Was this actually happening? Was he inviting you to join him? Was he interested in you? You bite your lip, hoping he'll be there when the meeting ends.

When the time comes, you take a deep breath, thankful to be done, and you see him still sitting there; this time, he's scrolling on his phone.

You feel excitement and nervousness as you decide to approach him. You quietly pack up your belongings and head towards him. You stop at the table before sitting and say, "Is it still ok if I sit?"

He looks up and smiles, his eyes sparkling. He nods and gestures for you to join him. "Of course, please sit. I've been waiting for you." He says, his voice warm and inviting.

You feel a glow in your chest when he smiles at you. He gently puts his hand out to introduce himself to you. "I'm Joakim, but my friends call me Jolly." He says, his name sounding exotic and charming.

You quickly notice his accent. You extend your hand and feel electricity when he touches it. "I'm y/n…and that's what everyone calls me." You say, trying to sound casual. You laugh nervously. "Thank you for the coffee."

His brown eyes watch you curiously as if he wants to know everything about you. "It's the least I could do for taking your spot." He says, his tone is playful and apologetic.

You shrug and smile. "It's ok, it's not like it has my name on it or anything." You say, pretending to be cool with it. You set your bag next to your feet. "But please don't make me sit over there again." You say, pointing to the noisy and crowded area where you had your meeting. You laugh, hoping he'll laugh with you.

He nods. "I promise I won't. I'll save this spot for you if you want." He says, his eyes twinkling. "Or better yet, why don't you sit with me next time? I'd love to have some company." He says, his voice lowering and his smile turning into a smirk. "You know we could even spend some time outside of the cafe together."

You feel your face heat up and your heart race. You bite your lip and look into his eyes. You see a hint of nervousness and a lot of interest.

You nod and smile back. "I'd like that."

You think this might be the beginning of something extraordinary. You think this is fate.

[saltofmercury]

Hi! So i completely forgot if i sent you a request already, and if i did, i'm sorry! If not, I am having the worst stomach ache right now and it's the end of my period :( -- I know this trope is very common, and you may have written something like this already, but if you haven't, may I request König taking care of the reader during this time?

Pairing: König x reader

Authors note: I changed it up a little to be gender neutral, so sorry it's not the exact prompt.

König takes care of you when you get sick.

You woke up and felt the scratch in your throat. A stinging, painful, hoarse feeling that something was coming. You already dreaded the day. You had hoped you would feel better by taking a hot shower to try to open your sinuses but it seemed too late. You were getting sick.

You tried to mentally retrace your steps, seeing how or who could’ve got you sick, but it didn't matter, it was coming on strong.

You continued your morning drinking tea, having vitamin c, having liquids to try and flush out whatever was inside you, but at no prevail, you felt your nose start to run.

Great. The second symptom had already come. You walked toward the living room. No König, perhaps he was still at the gym.

The rest of the day was a blur, you tried to occupy yourself with work, but the headache that accompanied your runny nose came. You put your laptop down, took a deep breath, and set an away message on your emails.

This was coming on strong and mentally you weren’t prepared for it. When was the last time you got sick? You hated being sick.

You messaged König to ask where he was and to pick up some things from the pharmacy.

“Are you sick?” came through text.

“I think i’m coming down with something, I’ll go home if you want me to,”

“Nonsense, I’ll be there soon.”

You went to the couch and wrapped yourself in the blanket you had brought over from your house to his. His house had started collecting things from you, things he insisted would be necessary to keep at his.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

“I’m fine” you answered, “I just need to kill this before it gets worse.”

He looked down at you and mumbled, “maybe this is the sign of working too hard? You know you need to take a rest every now and then from that company of yours.”

You smiled, “I’m going to get better soon, don’t worry.”

But by the time it was already dinner time, settling on the couch after eating dinner, you felt the fatigue coming on. Eyelids heavy from exhaustion, body running hot, other parts cold, and ears blocked off. You settled into the couch away from him, wrapped yourself in your blanket and dozed off.

You woke up to a large hand feeling your forehead.

“Scheiße! (Shiza) You are burning up”.

You didn’t say anything. You could feel the heat surrounding your body, from your toes to your head, you felt awful.

König had started to panic. When was the last time he was sick? He got cold water from the fridge and brought it to you with some medicine.

“Come on sicko, take the medicine”

You had whimpered, there was definite pain surrounding your body, moving your body right now wasn't a choice. He saw how flushed you looked, sweaty and sticky.

You begin to cry.

“I-I feel so awful.” Hot tears came down from your face and a sharp knife had gutted him because he had no idea on what to do on how to make you feel better.

“Once you take the medicine you’ll feel better, okay? You gotta take this first.”

You sipped on the cough syrup and drank the warm water he gave you. Still hiccuping about how awful you felt.

He walked over to the kitchen and got a kitchen towel, wrangled it under cold water, placing the towel on your head.

The coolness of the towel had helped your dull headache, made your face feel cooler.

He started to remember all the things his mom used to do when he would stay home “sick” from the bullies.

He goes over to the kitchen, starts making soup. He always has the ingredients, makes a mental note of the time you took your meds.

You doze off, fatigue winning the battle in your body. You feel cold, but your body is burning up. He replaces the towel and at midnight he wakes you up to take more medicine.

“Come on little mouse, every 6 hours to kill this.”

You’re woken up, your hair sticking out, matted by the sweat, your clothes feel sticky, and you’re not about to fall asleep this way.

“I need a shower.”

“A shower?” He says quietly, unsure if that’s the best decision for you right now.

“Yes I need one, I'm all sticky.”

He doesn’t want to fight with you but he suggests not washing your hair. A memory from his mom saying “wet hair will only get you more sick.”

He picks you up, there’s a small warmth coming from his body and it’s when you know you’re fucked because he’s always as hot as a space heater.

He sets you down in bed, runs a hot bath. The way you clutch at him only certifies you are freezing.

He carefully undresses you, before pulling back your hair attempting to cover it with a towel-like headband. He sets you in, you’re still clutching at his neck, as he bathes you, making sure you can feel the water down your neck. He grabs a washcloth, suds it up with soap, gently cleaning where you’re probably sweating. Your neck, your armpits, down your legs, then proceeds to really wash you.

He leaves for a second, just to turn on the heater so that you’re not hit by the cold, he also sets a humidifier in the room.

He picks you up, you’re so limp, tired, his shirt is wet. He dries you off gently, putting on your underwear and one of his big t-shirts.

You feel fresh, like the water had taken most of the icky feeling from your body. He takes you to bed gently covering you with his bedsheets, picking up your hair away from your face. You suddenly can breathe a lot better now, maybe it's the eucalyptus he put in the humidifier. The meds are kicking in, slowly lulling you to sleep.

König settles in next to you, petting your face, brushing away the hair. He's worried, it's not like you to cry, or moan about pain. It's not like you to get sick.

The next morning when you wake up, he's got your meds ready, a bowl of chicken and rice soup, and water.

He checks in on you every 2 hours, luckily your fever is going down. He still make you drink vitamin c, broth, and water. He has a strict schedule with your cough syrup. He doesn't like seeing you like this.

*

Two days later, when you're feeling back to your normal self, you approach him from behind with a big hug. Grateful, happy, and just feeling blessed that someone like him is here with you.

"Thank you for taking care of me." you say towards the back of his neck.

He blushes, turns around to face you.

"Are you feeling better?" His big hands roam your face, he can see some glow to your face, your eyes are much brighter too.

"Jesus schatz, you had me scared there for a minute. I don't like it when you don't feel good."

You sniffle a bit, your runny nose at the end point of sickness.

"I know, but thank you for taking care of me."

He scoffs, shaking his head.

"What are boyfriends for?"

[somber-sapphic]

As You Wish

〖Notes: Wow, this should've been done days ago but my period is kicking my ass. Not going to lie I write this purely because it made me feel a little better. ALSO, LENA'S FAVORITE MOVIE BEING 'TITANIC' IS CANON, DON'T COME FOR ME :,)〗

〖Summary: Lena is really bad at being sick.〗

〖Word Count: 3.9k (I maybe went overboard)〗

〖Pairing: Kara x Sick Lena〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Kara bounced over to Lena’s office with a grin on her face and a box of donuts in her hands. It had been months since she had been able to see her best friend what with the overwhelming number of alien attacks on National City and Lena fighting to prove that she was worthy of respect through meeting after painstaking meeting.

But finally, the brunette had a free fifteen minutes and the Kryptonian (while still on call) managed to get the day off both from CatCo and from Supergirl-ing. Both women had been working themselves to the bone for the past several weeks and hadn’t had a whole lot of time to catch up.

Kara had decided that since she knew they both had a bit of time, she would surprise her friend with sugary treats and gossip. She had caught two of her coworkers hooking up in the copier room and was dying to tell someone besides Alex.

The biochemist turned alien hunter hadn’t particularly cared about the workplace drama, she was more focused on not dying. In hindsight, perhaps she shouldn’t have brought it up during an attack, but when wasn’t there an attack lately?

Sometimes she felt as if her presence in the city did more harm than good. Sure, she protected the citizens from danger, but she also knew that she had a large role in drawing potentially dangerous aliens and groups to them.

Shoving the unwelcome thought aside Kara rapped softly on the door to Lena’s office, butterflies in her stomach. She had had a minor crush on the other woman since they had first met but decided to keep her unrequited love to herself. There was no need to ruin such a wonderful friendship over a silly crush.

“Come in,” The rasp that came from the other side of the door could not be called a voice and it made Kara’s heart jump. She’d only ever been sick once before, but she knew what sick people sounded like. Alex had gotten a cold a few months ago and she had sounded as if she had a literal frog stuck in her throat.

She opened the door and poked her head in, a frown crossing her face at the sight before her. Lena was sitting on her couch, laptop on the table in front of her, her shirt and pants rumpled. She was surrounded by used tissues, and an empty box sitting beside her laptop. She was hunched over typing away, shivering violently as her fingers danced across the keys.

“Hey, Kara.” She mumbled, barely glancing up from the screen. Her brilliant green eyes were glassy with fever, and she was sniffling every few seconds, taking a break from her computer only to wipe her nose on her damp sleeve. There was a sheen of sweat on her forehead and her typically immaculate hair was a mess, wispy pieces plastered against her damp skin.

“Oh Lena, you look awful.” The superhero breathed, rushing to her side. She cleared aside a spot on the coffee table and put the box of sugary treats down, her full attention now on assessing Lena’s illness. She didn’t know much about human illness, but this was probably bad.

The blonde slipped her palm over the CEO’s forehead, her frown deepening at the heat rising off of her skin. Lena pushed her away halfheartedly, not looking away from the email that she was writing. It was long, at least five paragraphs, and she was still working going. Kara hadn’t exactly read over her shoulder, but she had seen a few clauses and it was clearly not a friendly message.

“What’s this?” She asked softly, deciding that she should be a little bit worried. The way it was worded sounded almost like Lena was in a battle for her life. The blonde saw tears fill the other woman’s eyes, but she shook her head quickly taking a quick gasp of air.

“N-nothing, just some stuff with Edge. It’s fine. You brought donuts?” The millionaire sniffled, biting her chapped lip. She leaned over and opened the box, peering at the pastries with eyes filled with disinterest. She was simply trying to draw attention away from whatever was going on with the Edge and from her obvious sickness.

“Don’t try to distract me with food. You are sick. Come on, I’m taking you home.” Kara replied, pulling the conversation back on track. They could unpack the issues with Edge later, what was most important was nursing Lena back to health.

“I’m fine Kar, it’s nothing. So, how have you been?” Her argument would’ve been more convincing had it not been for the slight chatter of her teeth and the congestion muddling her words. Her eyes were dull, and her nose was running slightly, it didn’t seem like she noticed.

“Y-you got,” Kara gestured to her own nose, a pang of sympathy racing through her heart. It made her sad to see this wonderful, amazing woman in this state of physical discomfort and she felt so powerless to help. Literal superpowers are no good when you can’t help the people you love.

Lena’s cheeks flushed darker, and she reached for a tissue, her mouth dropping open slightly when she realized that there were none. With a grimace on her face, she brought her sleep up to her dripping appendage and wiped it clean, looking embarrassed.

“’m so sorry about this, my allergies have been—”

“Lena, honey, you’re sick. Let me take you home, I’ll pick up some soup from Noonan’s, we can watch Titanic and you can get some rest. Come on, you aren’t well enough to work right now. You’ve gotta give that big brain of yours a rest.” Kara murmured, the pet name slipping out without her approval. Thankfully, Lena didn’t seem to notice, she was too preoccupied with not crying.

“I appreciate that you care, I really do, but I can’t leave. I have a meeting in five minutes and another right after that. Then there’s the opening of the psych wing at the hospital which I have to be there for.” The brunette broke into a fit of coughing and even without using her super hearing, Kara could hear the crackling in her lungs. That was bad.

“No, you don’t. I’ll have Jess cancel your meetings and someone will go for you to the ward opening at the hospital. They’ll understand, they probably won’t want you there anyway, sickie.” The reporter teased gently, nudging her with an elbow. Lena sniffled pitifully and looked up with teary eyes, a tiny smile appearing on her badly cracked lips.

“Kara, I can’t, thank you for the donuts but you need to go, I have to set up for my meeting.” Damnit, Kara thought she had it with that one. But no, there was no way that the genius was going down without a fight, even if the fight was simply the same thing back and forth.

“Lena Kieran Luthor, I know that you are a busy woman, but right now you need to rest. You need to sleep this off. Just let me help you, please.” Begging. She had resorted to begging. And it worked! Kara watched Lena’s crumbling resolve break as the woman hunched over, hanging her head in regret and shame.

“Okay. Just let me get my things.” She mumbled, sounding defeated. Kara smiled and squeezed her elbow, offering silent comfort.

“Let me take care of it. Can you stand?” The blonde asked, grabbing the waste basket so that she could dispose of the sea of tissues surrounding the CEO. Lena nodded, but didn’t move, just sat there, and stared at her computer, eyes unfocused.

Kara just continued to gather her things, cleaning up the office a bit so that it wouldn’t be an utter disaster when the brunette returned to work. When she was done, she put a hand on Lena’s shoulder, prompting the woman to look up.

“Come on Le, let’s get you home.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Kara absolutely hated cars. They were cramped, too slow, and smelled like other people. If she had a choice, she would have just flown Lena back to her penthouse, but that may have given away the fact that she was an alien superhero who occasionally prevented the city/world from being blown up or overrun. Just maybe.

She had complained under her breath the entire time, pointing out the safety issues while Lena listened dutifully listened, nodding along with the woman’s ridiculous critiques of her very safe vehicle.

The ride back to the penthouse was only twenty minutes, but they were some of the longest twenty minutes of Kara’s life. This was saying a lot considering that she was trapped in the phantom zone for 24 years. At least then she had been comfortably unconscious, unable to consider how terrifying her situation was. She vowed never to enter a vehicle again without her powers. It was far too dangerous.

“Do you think you can walk?” The blonde asked, helping her shivering maybe crush out of the back of the moderately sized limo. Lena nodded silently and stumbled out, a soft groan escaping her lips as her head spun in protest.

“Woah, easy. Come here you, it’s okay.” Kara murmured, wrapping an arm around the brunette’s waist. She looked momentarily shocked but settled into the helpful half embrace. With the woman’s support, they made it inside and Lena found herself realizing just how weak she was. They had walked maybe twenty feet to get over to the elevator and she was panting, her head swimming with exhaustion and fever.

“S’out of order?” The CEO practically whimpered, dread crossing her face. Tears had already started to well up in her eyes while any hope that she had left her. There was no way that she could make it up all of those stairs, even with Kara’s assistance. She already felt like she would pass out if she stood for too much longer.

“Um…do, do you want me to carry you?” Kara asked, sounding a bit flustered. Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment, and she was doing her best to hide the humiliation. As miserable as she looked, Lena was undeniably adorable with that little pout on her lips and those big, beautiful emerald-green eyes.

No, bad Kara. She’s sick, she’s confused, and most important of all she’s your best friend.

“I, Kara…are you…,” Lena paused to look into the blonde’s big blue eyes and felt herself relax. Kara was just so incredibly kind, gentle, and willing to do anything to take care of her loved ones. She sniffled pitifully and nodded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Um…y-yes please.” She whispered, knowing that there was really nothing else that she could do. She wouldn’t be walking, and it wasn’t like she could sleep in the lobby. This was the only choice that she had.

Kara slipped her bag over her shoulder and very carefully eased Lena into her arms, holding the brunette in a bridal carry. She was alarmed by just how light her friend was, sure she had superpowers, but she made a mental note to remind Lena to eat on a more regular basis. The woman tended to get so caught up in her work that she forgot to practice basic self-care.

The blonde held her breath as she carried Lena up the stairs, feeling every bounce of the CEO’s head against her chest, every small shift in her arms, hearing the way her heartbeat slowed to a reasonable pace as soon as she was settled in her arms. This was all that Kara wanted. She wanted to hold Lena for the rest of her life, she wanted to make her feel safe and protect her from harm.

Lena had all but fallen asleep when they reached the penthouse, nuzzled close to her best friend’s chest and subconsciously trying to get even closer. Kara switched most of the raven-haired woman’s weight to one of her arms as she fiddled with the doorknob, fully expecting to find it locked. A spike of worry dashed through her heart when she found it open.

“Sweetie, do you remember if you locked the door this morning?” She murmured, feeling guilty about waking the woman from what was probably the first nap she’d had in weeks. Lena shook her head slightly, indicating that no, she had not in fact locked her door.

Kara hummed her disapproval but decided that she would save her nagging about safety later. There were so many people out there who wanted to hurt her, she knew better than to leave her door open like that.

Kara sighed quietly and carried the woman inside, her mind racing. Getting her home had been the easy part. Being one who practically never got sick, the blonde wasn’t exactly sure how to help. She didn’t entirely remember what an acceptable human temperature was (somewhere in the 90’s she was pretty sure) and everything she knew about being sick had come from watching Alex as a kid. The worst had been when Alex got chickenpox, the woman had been an absolute nightmare to deal with.

“Okay Le, I’m going to put you down in bed, is that okay?” Lena hummed her assent and Kara very gently set her down on the lavish bed. She then began to remove the brunette’s shoes, figuring that the high heels were absolutely killing her.

“Kara, what are you doing? You can go. I’ll be fine.” The sleepy woman mumbled, her voice a whispery rasp. Every breath crackled in Kara’s ears, a sound that was definitely not supposed to be there. She was beginning to wonder if she should call her sister, she had no clue how to help.

“Not a chance. I’m pretty sure you’ll die if I leave you alone.” The blonde teased, getting a little whine from the sick brunette. She sounded so incredibly pitiful, it broke Kara’s heart a bit. She moved to sit beside her best friend and brushed a few pieces of hair behind her ear, pausing a moment to lay her hand against the woman’s hot forehead. First things first though- Lena needed to get out of her work clothes.

“Can I get you something to wear?” The brunette hummed again, curling in a fetal position on top of the blankets. Kara knew that she needed to work fast, the last thing that she wanted was to need to wake the woman again.

She rifled (carefully) through Lena’s drawers until she found an old, clearly loved MIT sweatshirt. It was so worn that the letters had started to come off, but it was still readable. Kara smiled slightly and set it down on the bed before pulling out a pair of comfy-looking sweatpants.

“Can you change into these for me?” Kara asked, moving to squeeze Lena’s shoulder. With a grunt, she sat up and reached for the articles of clothing, pulling her shirt off before the startled superhero could make it out of the room.

Kara whirled around and closed her eyes, her cheeks flushed bright red with embarrassment. The brunette didn’t even seem to realize what she was doing to her friend and just continued to change, looking at the back of Kara’s head when she was done.

“This is my favorite sweater. I always wear it when I don’t feel good. How’d you know?” She mumbled, sounding dazed and tired. The blonde turned back around and smiled, sitting down beside the sick woman.

“You clearly love it. It looks soft.” That statement seemed to set something off in Lena. Tears welled up in her fever-glazed eyes and she buried her head in her hands as she started to cry. Panic set into Kara’s chest and she sat down on the bed, wringing her hands as she tried to figure out what to do.

“Hey, Lena what’s wrong?” she asked gently, reaching over to put a hand on the woman’s knee. Lena continued to cry into her hands, shaking her head as she tried to stifle her sobs. Her breaths were coming in quick, painful gasps and she was quite literally choking on her tears, coughing hard as she cried.

Taking a risk, the blonde moved right beside her and wrapped an arm around the sobbing woman’s waist, thinking back to the only other time that she’d seen Lena cry. They had sat together for hours, Kara silently holding the brunette as she just let it all out.

Without hesitation the ill genius pressed against her friend’s side, turning her head into Kara’s shoulder.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” She tried again, patting Lena’s back gently to help loosen some of the congestion that seemed to have settled into her lungs.

“N-no one’s ever c-cared this much before.” The brunette managed through her coughs, reaching up to grab a fistful of Kara’s shirt. Her heart absolutely shattered, the alien hugged her tight, pressing her nose against Lena’s hairline. She didn’t mind the snot or the tears, all that mattered was making the woman she loved, maybe, kinda, that was not important, feel like someone was there for her.

“Oh Rao, Lena. I’m right here. I’ve got you, I’m here. I care, I promise that I do. We’re going to get you feel better, okay? I’ve got you.” She soothed, beginning to rock Lena in her arms. She shoved off the tangle of blankets and situated herself so that she had the beautiful brunette positioned in her lap.

She continued to talk softly to the distressed woman, saying absolutely nothing in her words. She just promised safety and love, relaxing as Lena’s breathing calmed and her heartbeat slowed. The loud, gut-wrenching sobs turned to weak, congested hiccups. It took probably twenty minutes, but the CEO finally went from awake and dysregulated to sniffing in her sleep, still curled up in Kara’s lap.

They stayed like that for a while, Kara simply didn’t have the heart to move her even long after she’d gotten bored. If she’d had her laptop on her, she probably could’ve gotten some editing done, but she just couldn’t risk waking the sick woman. All that she wanted was to help Lena get better. If that meant sitting in an uncomfortable position for a few hours, it would be okay.

After another twenty minutes, the brunette was still fast asleep. Kara very gently eased her back down onto the covers, halting when she heard a tiny whimper from the sick woman. She waited another few seconds before continuing to set her down, smiling when Lena was fully curled up against the covers.

The blonde slipped out of the room and grabbed a blanket from the couch, returning to drape it over her sick friend. They would worry about getting her under the duvet later, for now, that would do. She then grabbed her phone and texted her sister.

           Kara: Lena’s sick and I don’t know what to do.

           Alex: Sick? What kind of sick? I need some more details here Kar.

Kara huffed her frustration and turned to the wheezing brunette as she thought of a response.

           Kara: I don’t know! She feels really hot, she’s coughing, sneezing, she looks awful. Just help me!

           Alex: Okay, breathe. It sounds like she just has the flu. Give her some fluids, and have her take medicine, but most importantly she needs sleep. She’ll be fine.

           Kara: What kind of medicine?

She could practically hear Alex sighing over the phone. She knew that her sister was busy, but this was incredibly important.

           Alex: Look, see what she has in the medicine cabinet and give her that. She’ll be okay Kara; humans are built to deal with this. Take a deep breath. Call me when she wakes up and I’ll talk to her.

The blonde did as directed, taking a deep breath in and holding it for a few seconds to calm herself down as she reminded herself of what Alex had said. Humans were used to this. Humans could handle this. It would be fine. Lena would be fine, just fine.

Now that she had freed herself from Lena’s grasp she had managed to retrieve her laptop from her bag. The blonde pulled out her machine and began to work on her latest article, which was surprisingly about the CEO. 

It was just a stupid puff piece thanking Lena for her latest donation to the city -a whole new hospital- but the woman really needed the good press. So much hate surrounded her name, and people couldn’t seem to comprehend all of the good that she did.

She had gotten so into her work that she didn’t realize how much time had gone by until she saw Lena staring up at her, a little smile on her cracked lips.

“Hey, you, how are you feeling?”

“Why are you still here? Aren’t you sposta be doing something?” The brunette asked, completely ignoring Kara’s original question. Judging by the way that she was speaking, speech slurred slightly, the answer was ‘not great’.

Immediately assuming that the question was based on catching the illness (that’s what most humans worried about in this situation, right?) she framed her answer as what she figured Lena would want to hear.

“I won’t get sick, but I’ll go if you want me to,” Kara said softly, propping herself up on one elbow. The woman laying in her arms smirked and opened one beautiful green eye.

“Well duh. Aliens can’t get people viruses.” Well, that wasn’t what the blonde had been expecting. She froze, her mouth dropping open as she fumbled for what to say. How had this even happened? She had been so careful. Right?

“I-uh, I’m not sure what, what you’re talking about. I just have a really good immune system and I got my flu shot and I don’t really get sick and—”

“’member one of the first times we interacted? I asked ‘f you need a parking ticket validated. You,” Lena paused to giggle, “said you ‘flew here on a bus’. Dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard. Dummy.” The grin on the CEO’s face was enough to make Kara burst into laughter. She had hoped that she had played it off well, but clearly, she hadn’t been as smooth as she thought.

“Are…you okay with it?”

“Mhm. Can’t really be mad, you saved didn’ let anyone kill me. Please don’t go.” The slightly delerious Lena was already falling asleep again, cuddling against Kara’s chest. It was pretty clear that she wasn’t interested in moving, and really just wanted to be held.

“I’m not going anywhere. But let’s get some medicine in you, see if we can lower that fever a bit.” She was pretty sure there would need to be more conversation about this later, but for now, Kara was perfectly happy to gloss over the subject of her DNA.

“Later? I wanna sleep.” If it were anyone else and if they were wearing any other expression, Lena literally looked like a cute, pouting puppy, Kara would’ve demanded that the medicine be consumed. But she just didn’t have the heart to argue with the woman.

“As you wish.” The blonde said softly, pressing an incredibly soft kiss to the top of her best friend’s head. The woman let out a contented sigh and curled up closer, tucking her head right under Kara’s chin. Maybe this illness would be the start of something beautiful.

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[catierambles]

Back in the Saddle Pt3

Pairing: Syverson x Heather Markum (OFC)

Warnings: Non explicit sexy times

WC 2961

@brattymum96 , @ouroboros113 , @peaches1958 , @summersong69 , @eldarwen333 , @omgkatinka , @identity2212 , @lucypaulette , @km-ffluv , @kebabgirl67 , @squeezyvalkyrie , @rebelangel1102 , @dopegardensaladhuman , @ilsacharlotte , @josie-packard (if you name has a strikethrough, it's because I couldn't tag you)

Heather watched him sleep, propped up on her elbow on her side in bed. He had taken from her several times as they were together, and she thought she would feel some kind of side effect, but there was nothing. No fatigue. No pain. Nothing. He was very adamant that he never took from the other women enough to hurt them, so she figured there were some dangers in what he had to do to survive. Feeding off their life force sounded quite serious if he went overboard. The look in his pitch black eyes as he had fed from her would stay with her forever, gold swirling in the depths in a mesmerizing display, only adding to the feeling of him pulling from her.

The doorbell went off and she pressed one last kiss to his shoulder before she got up, pulling on an extra long hoodie that ended at her knees to cover her nudity before heading down the stairs to the front door. Turning back the locks, she opened the door and her arms crossed over her stomach when she saw who it was.

“Where is he?” David asked and she scowled at him. “Don’t play games with me, Heather. Where is he?”

“Asleep. We had a busy night.” She said, and paused for a moment, “And morning.”

“You slept with him?” David asked, his tone incredulous.

“Oh, we did that too, off and on.”

“Heather, he--”

“I know.” She said and he blinked at her. “I opened your email, I talked to him about it, he gave me an explanation, and we’re past it now.”

“What was his explanation for stealing the identity of a dead man?”

“None of your business.”

“What’s his real name?”

“Jake Syverson.” She said.

“Heather…”

“Don’t.” She said, “David, stop. And don’t try to pass it off as you’re just worried about me. You misused station resources to run the license plate of your ex-wife’s new boyfriend, and now you’re harassing your ex-wife about said boyfriend. That doesn’t exactly make you look good. Sy is who he is, and that’s more than good enough for me. So you’re going to drop it. I hear or see anything about this again, and I will be reporting you. I’ve always been on good terms with your Captain. Understood?” He was quiet, looking at her with angry eyes, “Do we have an agreement?”

“You--”

“Touch her and they won’t find you.” Heather looked over her shoulder, seeing Sy walk down the stairs in his uniform pants, the top button undone.

“You’d threaten a police officer?” David asked. 

“I’m warning my girlfriend’s ex-husband what’ll happen if he tries to hurt her.” Sy said, joining her at the door. “Come near her again, and you’ll be just another missin’ person.”

“Who the fuck are you?” David asked.

“Jake Syverson.” Sy said simply, “Have the day you deserve.” He closed the door in his face, throwing both of the locks. They waited until they heard his car pull away from the house before she let out a sigh, Sy pulling her to his chest with his hand at the back of her head.

"Be honest with me?" She asked, pulling away to look up at him.

"Of course. No more secrets."

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

"Doll, I was in the Army Special Forces."

"I mean after."

"Oh." He said and paused for a moment, "Once."

"Was it--"

"No, it wasn't some woman I went home with." He said, "It was before I settled on the speed datin' thing. I went out to a bar, but I struck out. Was about to go home when I heard a scuffle in an alley. A woman was gettin' attacked. I pulled the guy off her, and…I killed him."

"How?"

"I can control how much I take at one time. I took it all, in one big breath. Damn near made me sick." Sy explained, "I made sure the woman was okay, tellin' her I just knocked him out, and saw her safely in a taxi home. Last time I saw her and no one ever came knockin' about it. I wasn't thinkin', I was reactin'. I coulda just knocked him out for real, but I didn't."

"You saved that woman, though, and probably a lot of others."

"I know, it makes it a little easier." Sy said and she leaned into him again, wrapping her arms around his chest. "Speakin' of, how you feelin'?"

"I feel fine." Heather admitted.

"Not bullshittin' me?" He asked and she shook her head. "I took more from you than I usually take, couldn't help myself, but you don't…"

"Sy?"

"I can tell how much someone has to give me, like a gas gauge. I take just enough to make the needle move and that's it, but you…yours didn't budge. No matter how many times I took from you, it stayed firmly on full." He explained, "Couldn't tell you why, it didn't feel any different than any other time."

"Really?"

"Okay, maybe a little." He admitted with a shrug, "But that's only because I'm fallin' for ya."

“Really?” She asked again, leaning back to look at him.

“Doll, I’m pretty sure I started fallin’ for ya the moment I first heard you laugh.” He said and she stared at him for a moment. “What? Too much?”

“You’re not real!” She exclaimed, reaching up to pull him down into a kiss and making him laugh.

Sy stopped pretending to be normal, not eating or drinking anything all day, telling her that what he took from her would last him for a bit.

“So where do you live?” She asked as she ate from a bowl of pasta she made for lunch. “Can’t imagine you have a place under your real name, the background check would show that you’re legally dead.”

“I hop from motel to motel.” He admitted and she blinked at him. “What? You said it, a background check would give the game away.”

“You’re homeless?”

“I ain’t livin’ on the streets or anythin’.”

“Jake.” She said and he pulled an admonished face at his first name. “You’re living here.”

“Babe.”

“Don’t “babe” me, you’re moving in.” She said, “End of discussion.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Do you need to get your things?”

“I have a couple bags in my truck. I travel light.”

“Go get them.” She said and he pushed up from his seat at the kitchen island, grabbing his keys from the table by the door where he had thrown them and leaving the house, coming back a few moments later with a couple of duffel bags in his hands. “How’d you get your things? Uniforms and such?”

“First stop after I was dug up was to my parents.” He said as he set his bags down by the stairs, “They know I’m alive, sorta, and my current condition. They were shocked to say the least when I showed up on their doorstep in my burial suit.”

“I bet. Who dug you up?” This was the weirdest conversation she’s ever had.

“I don’t remember. Don’t remember a lot from when I first woke up. Thankfully. Pretty sure those nightmares of wakin’ up in a coffin would be intense.” Sy said, “First thing I remember after…dyin’ was sittin’ against my tombstone with a poundin’ headache, dug up grave beside me, and I was alone.” He looked so haunted by it that she got up from her seat, going over to him and lacing her arms around his waist, looking up at him.

“Well, you’re not alone anymore.”

“I know.” He said softly, his hands on her back. “Heather, I…I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you. It’s only been about a week since we met, but already you…you accepted me, and now you’re helpin’ me, givin’ me a place to live.”

“Don’t thank me just yet, we don’t know if David is going to drop it, or if he’s going to cause issues.” She said and he nodded. "How do you afford things? Again, the standard employment background check."

"My parents funneled my military life insurance payout to me, along with my 401k. They were the beneficiaries." Sy said and she nodded. "Not much left though, after three years of hoppin' around. Even with bein' careful."

"Well, you don't have to worry about it anymore. I'm not exactly going to charge you rent." Heather said.

"Babe, I'm gonna be the best damn househusband in the world. You get home and the place is gonna be spotless and I'll have dinner waiting." He said and she snorted, going on her toes to give him a kiss. "I got no problem bein' a sugar baby."

"Oh my god." She giggled and he smiled down at her.

True to his word, when she got home from work the following week, he had dinner waiting for her and he was one hell of a cook. On particularly rough days when she dealt with difficult clients, he even had a bath drawn for her, fragrant bath salts mixed into the warm water. She could get used to this, she thought, as she relaxed against his chest in the tub, his arms warm and strong around her. His feeding from her became almost normal, although not regular, as what he took from her seemed to last longer than it usually did, probably because he could take more from her than usual without it having any kind of effect on her. He only did it when they were together, the pull in her chest adding to the feeling of him moving inside her.

A couple more weeks passed and they didn’t hear from David, but she knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t just going to drop it. His steadfast dedication to solving a mystery is what made him a good cop.

Locking her car with the fob, she headed up the walkway to the front door.

“Heather Markum?” She heard and turned, seeing the man walking up the driveway towards her. He was wearing a muted suit, dark brown hair combed back with a neat mustache covering his upper lip, the beginnings of a beard on his jaw. He would have been unremarkable, if he hadn’t been massive with muscle.

“Yes?” She asked.

“A notification came in that an AWOL soldier who faked his death was hiding here.”

“Motherfu--” She sighed. David. “I’m sorry you wasted your time, but he’s not here. It’s just me. My ex-husband sent you on a wild goose chase.”

“Your ex-husband?”

“David Steward?” She asked, “I’m guessing that’s who “notified” you. I’m dating an Army Captain, yes, but he’s not AWOL, he didn’t fake his death, and again, he’s not here.”

“I see.” He didn’t seem convinced.

“You’re with the Army?”

“Something like that.”

“I never got your name.”

“No, you didn’t.” Okay, she was starting to not like this.

“Have a nice night.” She said and headed for the door again, taking her keys out of her bag.

“Ms. Markum--” The front door opened before she got there, halting the man’s words.

“Back off, Walker.” Sy said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Syverson.” “Walker” said, his tone somewhat incredulous. “How did you--”

“I didn’t.” Sy said simply.

“I was at your damn service.”

“Means a lot.”

“I’m the one who gave the damn flag to your mom.”

“Thank you.” Sy said and there was a pause before he stepped around her, going to him and pulling him into a brotherly hug. “Good to see you again, man.”

“Fucker.” Walker said, returning the hug, “You have explaining to do.”

“Let’s head inside.” He said as he pulled away and Walker nodded. Sy shooed her into the house, smacking her butt lightly and making her swat at him in retaliation, Walker’s chuckle sounding behind her. “Made carbonara, babe.”

“Nice.” She said and headed into the kitchen to grab herself a bowl. “Uh…Walker?”

“August.” He said.

“August, yes, Sy always makes too much food when he cooks, would you like some?” She asked and there was a pause.

“I’m good, but thank you.” He said.

“She’s just being a good hostess, don’t give me that look.” Sy said and Heather cringed inwardly, scooping pasta and bacon into a bowl and pulling a fork from the drawer.

“So…” Heather started as she came back into the living room, seeing Sy and August seated opposite from each other.

“Babe, this is the friend I told you about.” He said, “The one that got snagged by the CIA after his six years was up.”

“The one that said he would put in a good word for you?” She asked and he nodded. “Oh, I figured you guys were friends seeing as you bro-hugged and didn’t swing at each other, but nice to have it confirmed.”

“Explain.” August said and Sy gave a large sigh before he gave him the abridged version of what he had told her. How he had died, and was buried, it just didn’t take and he was dug up. “By who?”

“No idea.” Sy said and continued on with his new dietary requirements leaving out how he had found sources for what he needed now.

“Bullshit.” August said.

“Do the eye thing?” Heather suggested and he nodded, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again. August sat back in his seat as he saw his pitch black orbs that quickly faded back to normal.

“Not bullshit.” He said and Sy nodded. “So you’re what? Some kind of vampire now?”

“I guess? Sorta?” He said, “I don’t drink blood or anythin’, but I do have to take some kind of life essence stuff to keep me goin’.”

“Energy vampire.” Heather said and they looked at her. “Sy, you should have realized by now that I’m kind of a goth. Of course I know about different types of vampires.”

“Didn’t think there was more than one, to be honest.” Sy admitted.

“The blood drinking variety is the most common, and commonly known, but there are ones that feed off the life energy or vital essence of someone rather than their blood.” She explained, “People have claimed to be this kind, but it’s bullshit and they should probably get some kind of psychiatric help because they also admitted that they still need to eat food and drink water to sustain themselves. You’re one in truth because food and water don’t do anything for you and you actually need to draw a person’s life force in order to keep yourself alive and have. You also have some party favors thrown in for good measure.”

“Such as?” August asked, arching a brow at him.

“I can fiddle with people’s memories of me.” He said with a shrug, “Make’em forget me altogether if I wanna. Can only do recent memories, though. Like, I can make you forget comin’ here, but I can’t make you forget when we served together.”

“Short term versus long term memory.” August said and Sy nodded.

“I guess.”

“Your folks know you’re alive?” August asked and he nodded again. “Good. Would have ripped you a new one if they didn’t.” He looked at Heather just as she took a bite of pasta. “And I’m guessing that you know all of this, as you seem unsurprised at any of it.”

“Uh huh.” She said around the pasta, “David pulled some shit, I did my own digging, and I confronted Sy about it. He laid it out for me.”

“And you’re okay with this?”

“Again, kind of a goth.” She said, “And what goth doesn’t want to shack up with a vampire?” Sy turned in his seat to look at her. “Calm down, that’s not the only reason why I’m with you.”

“Better not be.” He grumbled, turning back around, but the words lacked any real weight.

“Has he ever…have you let him…”

“Feed from me?” She finished helpfully and he nodded. “Yeah, sometimes. To say more would be going into really personal territory and you seem cool, but we just met.”

“Heather is…different.” Sy said, “I can take from her as much as I want without it hurtin’ her.”

“How?” August said and they both shrugged.

“Walker,” Sy said, “Question for you, though, bud. What the hell you doin’ here?”

“I told Heather that we were informed that you were here. Truth is I had a tracer on your name from when you were alive that I just never took off. It notified me when someone called into the nearest Army base saying there was an AWOL soldier hiding here using your name. I intercepted the call and told the person I would handle it.” August said.

“David.” Sy said, clicking his tongue against his teeth.

“Most likely.” Heather said.

“You had a tracer on me?” Sy asked.

“It’s how I kept track of you after I left the service.” August said with a shrug, “You never wondered how I knew to send you a bottle of whiskey every time you got promoted?”

“I was more stoked about the free bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue.” He said, “It’s great scotch whiskey, but it’s also stupid expensive on a military paycheck.”

“Oh!” Heather said, “I have a bottle of that!” She set the bowl down on the coffee table before heading into the kitchen. “It was a wedding present. David and I never opened it and we both forgot about it in the divorce.” She came back with the bottle, handing it to Sy and he looked it over before he and August looked at her expectantly. “I’ll get you guys glasses.”

“Thank you, babe.” Sy said with a smile.

“Uh huh.”

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid // cth

chapter forty six

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

read other chapters // read on AO3

january 22, 2019 madrid, spain orion

The flight to Madrid feels like it takes forever. I’m excited to go back, and based on how much Calum is checking his email, he must have a lot of things planned for us. I wish he didn’t, because I doubt I’ll be able to do more than a few things each day. I’m just too tired. 

My doctors connected me with a hospital and a doctor in the city just in case I need to see one. They’ve got my records and everything and, while I can speak Spanish, Calum can’t, so we made sure to choose a facility with translators and bilingual staff. I doubt we will need to, since the past few months have been fairly uneventful. I just feel like shit, but nothing is changing.

We both have had to wear face masks from the moment we left for the airport, which feels silly, but Dr. Gupta said that if I’m in any kind of high traffic area, it’s vital that I do my best to protect myself. Although, it is a bit helpful for camouflaging Calum. With half his face covered and a hat on his head, you can barely tell him apart from another man of his height with brown hair. 

Ilse and Giuseppe are flying in to Madrijd later on in the week to see us, and I’m so excited to get to see them, along with the other girls. I’m sad that we won’t get to do a lot of the things that we used to. We can’t go out anywhere to do pretty much anything. I’m really grateful to be here, but I don’t feel like Calum will be able to do anything here that we wouldn’t do at home. 

Since we won’t be taking the metro, in an effort to keep me away from germs and sickness, Calum is renting a car here, so we’ll be able to drive around to everything. For his birthday, we’ll be driving to Valencia for a night so we can see the beach here.

When we land, Calum makes me pose under the “Bienvenidos a Madrid” sign, and I hope I don’t look as tired as I am in the photo. I’m trying not to act like it, but I really just want to go to sleep. We came all this way, and all I really want to do is hole up in our hotel room. 

“Want to stop somewhere for some tapas and a glass of tinto?” Calum asks when we get our bags into the rental car and take our seats.

I look over at him. He has excitement written all over his face. His brown eyes are gold and sparkling, his smile endearing, and I can’t say no. “Sure, sounds good.”

I do my best to smile. I want him to enjoy this trip. It’s for his birthday, after all. I can’t ruin it by being too tired to do anything, so I swallow the feeling of wanting to go straight to the hotel and try to take in Madrid as we enter the city. In my heart, it feels so good to be back. 

We get to a small bar in La Latina that has a patio and Calum can’t stop smiling while we sit at the small metal table. He reads over the menu, even though he undoubtedly already knows what we’ll order and can barely understand the rest of what he sees. 

“So, I was thinking,” he starts, reaching across the table to grab my hand. “Oh, wow, your hand is freezing!” 

He holds both of them now, rubbing them to try to warm them up. I smile at his sweetness, but raise my eyebrows for him to continue. 

“We get some food, head to the hotel and take a nap, and then we can go to a convenience store to get some wine and stuff and then we can head to Retiro to watch the sunset?”

I nod. “Yeah, sounds perfect.” 

He has me order for us when the waiter comes since my Spanish is far better than his. They bring us our drinks and food quickly, and Calum is taking on my role as obsessive photographer and says he needs photos of everything. He even makes me ask the server to take a picture of the two of us, something he has never done before in his life. 

With Calum watching on, I do my best to sip from my jarra of tinto and eat a few of the fried potatoes he ordered for me. It’s obvious that I can’t stomach much, though, and it makes me feel bad. I feel bad physically, obviously, but I’m already worried about how this whole trip will go. I’m not going to be a fun partner. 

“Lucia and Paula said they’re up for breakfast tomorrow,” Calum says, breaking my staring contest with my patatas bravas when I look up at him instantly.

I smile. “Cool, that will be great, Cal.” 

He smiles back and nods before he pulls out his phone and types something in. When it’s face down on the table again, he looks straight back at me. “I know you may not be able to do much while we’re here. I know you’ve been really tired and sick for a while, so please just tell me if you ever need a break or anything, okay? Don’t over exert yourself. We’re here to do whatever you want to do.”

For some reason, that makes my heart drop.

“We’re here for your birthday, Cal,” I say. My tone is quiet. He just said what I should want to hear, but I don’t feel any better after he’s said it. 

I want him to look back on this trip fondly. This is one of our last things we’ll ever do together possibly. After everything I’ve put him through, can I ruin this, too? 

“I’ll have other birthdays,” he says.

My stomach lurches. I could throw up.

He realizes what he’s said, and I practically watch his mouth dry and the gears in his brain whir. I know he has no idea what to say, and I don’t expect him to. He’s not wrong. He will have other birthdays. He will have almost an entire lifetime of birthdays after this.

Without me. 

I sigh, clear my throat, and refrain from crying. 

“I know.”

next part

a/n: hi !!!!!!! lil baby update. ty for your patience as I've taken a break from BLU! check out the other two shorter fics I've written in the meantime if you'd like! they're both very different from BLU and each other but are only 10 parts each and ofc about cal. check my masterlist here if you need some new material :)

[antihero-writings]

Waving Through the Veil (Ch 1)

Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen (Book and Musical)

Summary: Evan is haunted by Connor. No, literally haunted. His ghost shows up after hearing Evan's lie about the Orchard, and Evan can actually see him. But, as weird as this situation is, maybe this is how they can become real friends after all.

Note: The one thing I’ve always wanted to see from this franchise, ever since first watching the musical, but even more so after reading the book, is the ghost of Connor being able to have a relationship with Evan. So...I decided to write it! This is written in the style of the book, and will probably mostly follow the book, (I even include some passages from it), but I will probably draw from the musical at times too, depending on what portrayal of something I like best. For those of you who have read the book, the fic begins in the middle of the first scene of chapter 9. I hope you enjoy!! If you do, please don't hesitate to leave a comment to let me know!! It's your comments that fics like this going <3

Chapter 1: All we See Are Ghosts

I didn't bother turning the light on as I flopped down on the couch with the signature groan of a man who’s hit rock bottom. Well maybe not rockbottom, but sediment bottom at least. I think we learned about that in science class; it’s where the fossils are get stuck…That’s pretty much how I feel at the moment. 

I'm not sure why I keep reporting back to Jared after every new disaster. I never feel better after our chats. Jared has a way of highlighting my errors so they seem even worse than I first realized.

But I'm so lost right now, sitting alone on the couch in my dark living room. Jared is the only person in the entire world who has even the slightest appreciation for where I am.

I bring Jared up to speed with what happened at the Murphys. We end up texting for a while, and, at this point, my stomach is still churning from the conversation, especially the prospect of making fake emails. Fake emails...to continue the lie I didn't intend to start. 

What is wrong with me? Seriously. Why do I keep fooling myself into thinking that the worst that could happen has already happened? Things always get worse. It's guaranteed. That's how life works. You're born and you keep getting older and grayer and sicker, and no matter what effort you make to reverse the process, you die. Every single time To repeat: worse, worse, worse, and then death. I have a long way to go before the worst. This is only the beginning.

And these emails...I'd be giving them what they want—what they need. I'd be helping them.

It's tempting. It really is. But it's also...sick? I can't keep doing this, deceiving these poor people. I'm not cut out for it.

At one point tonight it felt like I was sweating from my eyes—that's how anxious I was. Had I perspired another drop, I might have mummified. I can't go on like this. I'm all drained out.

I turn my phone over so it's facedown. The light from the screen waves over my cast. The memory of the story I conjured up for the Murphys hits me anew. They were talking about the orchard, and I guess the way they were talking about it made me think of Ellison Park. And I can no longer think of Ellison Park without thinking of the tree, and my fall. Connor wasn’t there that day, of course. But I guess...he could've been. when I was telling the story…it was almost like he was. Suddenly thinking of him being there to come get me…everything felt okay. Or at least not not okay. And 'not okay' is how I usually feel. 

I’m considering going up to my room when I hear a voice speak:

“So you took my advice after all. It was a nice story, I’ll give you that. No racist-punching, but better than the truth at least.”

I fall off the couch and let out a scream that I’ll admit isn’t very manly. 

 I realize I probably should have turned on said light, because if I had, I might have noticed someone in the room. And that would have been scary, yes, but probably less scary than simply hearing a disembodied voice suddenly talking to me. 

 I’ve prepared—well, not so much prepared as worried, which masquerades remarkably well as preparation—for people breaking into my house longer than I’ve worried about the Murphys. Though, to be fair, I expected them to come with knives and/or guns and threats...not talking about advice and punching racists. (The people breaking in, not the Murphys).

The living room isn’t that far from the kitchen, I probably should be going for a knife. Instead I just try to scramble away on the couch and don’t make much distance.

“Who-Who are you?!” I demand, (or, at least, I try to demand, but it sounds more like a squeal), “Why are you in my house?!”

The perp makes a noise like a scoff. “So you can hear me. I thought you might have seen me the other day but I—“ He stops himself. 

I stop in my scrambling too, because it’s starting to hit me, like spice that takes a second to set your mouth on fire.

I know that voice. It isn’t the voice of a strange burglar or serial killer—or at least, I don’t think he is but I guess I can’t rule it out, because it’s— 

It’s a voice that can’t be speaking to me right now. Literally can't.

“Still,” He’s not disembodied after all, because his shadow walks over to the shelf. Despite the realization, or maybe because of it, I resume my scrambling, finally making it off the couch and onto my feet, (not without falling over first). “That’s some psychotic bullshit you barfed up. One moment you’re writing some creepy note about my sister, trying to make everyone to think I’m crazy, next thing I know you have dinner with my family, talking shit about how we were friends, telling stories about how we went to the orchard together. I’ve never been very good at math, tell me,” I can’t really see him but something tells me he’s turning to me with those blue death rays, “how does that add up?”

Somehow in my scrambling I’ve made it to the light switch, and my fingers clutch it like its a lifesaver thrown out to my pitifully struggling body at sea. 

I’m not quite sure I wouldn’t rather drown. 

I flick my finger, turning on the light.

I already knew I’d regret it before I turned it on, and, when I did, the regret hit me instantly and intensely, like the spice finally kicking in. 

Standing there in his thick boots, and ripped jeans, and long, messy hair, and eyes that analyze my soul is Connor Murphy. 

I cover my mouth, breath gaining about ten pounds, heart gaining a hundred, but still running anyways.

“Holy—Holy shit.” I say into my hand. “Holy fuck.”

Connor smirks. “At least someone has the decency to react.”

“You’re—but you—You’re alive?! You’ve been alive this whole time?!”

His eyes darken, dart away. “Not alive, no.”

“Well w-what else could you be?!” I stutter, reaching my tremoring hand into my pocket for my meds, my Ativen—maybe I’ll find my sanity in there if I dig far enough. He’s walking towards me and my heartbeat has gone past the hundred mile-per-hour mark to the speed of light. “I mean, dead people don’t just show up in people’s houses—!”

He leans forward and swipes his hand at me, and I tense, thinking he’s going to knock the pills out of my hand, but instead his fingers go right through me. 

I let myself look up at him, finally understanding. 

Up at the kid who I always tried to avoid. The kid whose sister I have a crush on. The kid who pushed me at lunch the other day. At the kid who took my letter in the computer lab. The kid I was terrified would ruin my life with that letter (well, more ruined than it already is). The kid who I'm pretending was my best friend. The kid who killed himself. 

At Connor Murphy’s ghost. 

“Excuse me for a moment.” 

The pills scatter on the couch before I have a chance to attempt to get even one down, and I scramble to the bathroom to empty what little of Cynthia’s dinner I actually ate into the toilet.

In between heaves I try to think, to wrap my brain around this, to just have a second to breathe, not really able to do or have any of the above. 

Step one: Connor Murphy steals my letter. The letter I wrote to myself. One that was more honest than it strictly should have been. 

Step two: Connor Murphy kills himself. 

Step three: Connor Murphy’s parents think my letter is his suicide note. 

Step four: I can’t bring myself to tell the truth, so I end up going to the wake, and going to dinner at the Murphys’ house, and fabricating some crazy story about us having a picturesque friendship, and planning on making secret emails—

Step five: Connor Murphy’s ghost appears to me in my room. 

Like an actual ghost. Yesterday I didn’t believe those existed. I think my mom does, and I always liked watching documentaries about haunted houses. But what I like about the documentaries is they often include a scientific explanation.

And aren’t ghosts supposed to be like…scary? I mean, don’t get me wrong this is scary, Connor is scary—he was scary before he died. But I always thought ghosts were supposed to be like something out of a horror movie, covered in rotting flesh, unable to do anything but moan and scream. Not the kid you happen to be pretending you were best friends with showing up in your room. 

No, no, actually, I think I know what’s going on here. Yeah. There’s no ghost. This isn’t happening. The stuff with the letter didn’t even happen either. There was actually a step zero in there: 

Step zero is I went insane. 

When I manage to get the courage to come back into the room. He’s disappeared. I’ll admit, I was kinda hoping for that. I’m half relieved—more like fifteen sixteenths. Perhaps he was a hallucination after all. All those skipped dinners getting to me, when I actually ate something my body couldn’t handle it. I do my best to clean up the scattered pills on the couch, and the scattered thoughts in my brain.

But then I walk upstairs to my room I find I was wrong.

“I’ve gotten a lot reactions over the years,” he remarks when I get back. “Can’t say I’ve ever had that one.”

“Sorry, I—It’s just—I just—you’re…you’re here.”

“Not because I want to be, believe me. I’d rather be practically anywhere else.” His hand passes through my shelf. 

“And you’re dead.”

“Come on.” He feigns offense. “A little respect for your dearly departed. I mean we were best friends, after all.”

“Oh god.” That’s right, the dinner. I'd tried to block out the fact that he mentioned my story earlier. “You really heard all that?!” 

“Didn’t intend to go back to my house. Died to be rid of it, after all. But I did, and I saw you there, and I couldn’t fathom why. And here you were spouting the most incredible fucking bullshit about how we were friends.”

“Yeah-Um-So-Well—“ I breathe out, trying to get my lungs to work properly. I thought the Murphy’s house felt hot earlier. This is a couple degrees hotter than the Sahara. 

I just want this day to end. What demon (if ghosts exist, those probably exist, after all) marked their calendar for Torment-Evan-Day? I mean, that’s kinda every day, but this is a specially-crafted brand of torture. 

“The-” I swallow. “The-The letter? You know, the one that you took from me?" Then, realizing that sounds accusatory, I add, "I-I’m sure you didn’t mean to.” I shake my head. I’m trying my best to tell the truth without making him upset. It feels like a futile endeavor. “Your parents think youwrote it. T-To me, I mean. They think it was your”—I don’t know how or why, but I manage to look him in the eye—“suicide note.”

His eyes widen, but they narrow quickly afterwards. “So you just sat there and fed them bullshit about how we were friends instead of correcting them?” 

“Well, no-They—they—” No, not the Sahara, I’m ninety percent sure I’m standing right in the sun. “I tried to tell them—” I swallow. “I promise I really did!” I wipe my sweaty hands on my shirt. “I mean technically I actually did tell them you didn’t write it—they were just…they didn’t understand. They wanted me—They were looking to me for help, for answers. I couldn’t—!“ 

Once again, I don’t know how I manage to look into those soul-sucking eyes. But once I do, I realize something. 

An hour ago, I thought of him as the dead kid. The kid who killed himself. He was a concept, a symbol, more than a person I knew. But before that, as little as we talked, I did know him. He was Connor Murphy. He was real.

And in the second it takes to realize that, I’m replaying our conversations, and I’m realizing that’s wrong too. This isn’t Connor Murphy, and this isn’t the kid who killed himself. This is Connor Murphy…who killed himself. That is to say, the symbol, and the real Connor I knew, coalesce into one. 

And I realize that those eyes aren’t analyzing my soul, or trying to suck it out, or hating me, or anything like that…they are so vastly, so perfectly—

“You...You didn’t give them anything else.” I don’t know how, where, I got this random shot of bravery. “I didn’t want to take away all they had of you, even if it was—“ I laugh a little, not because it’s funny, but because I can’t figure out what else to do. “Even if it was just some stupid letter I wrote to myself.”

His eyes widen. I think it’s because he’s surprised at, angered by, my boldness. I get ready to apologize, but he says: 

“You wrote that to yourself?” 

My eyes widen. 

That’s right…I didn’t exactly let that on last time. Didn't have the chance. He thought I was messing with him.

“Y-Yeah. It…” I sigh. There’s no use denying it, and, well, it's not like he can tell anyone, right? Dead men tell no tales, after all...Except for the fact that one is talking to me. Right now. “It was an assignment from my therapist.”

Besides, if anyone’s going to understand…it’s him.

And...that's when it hits me.

Along with the realization that this is Connor Murphy, who killed himself, I realize I’ve been focused on the wrong thing. 

I was worried—certain, really—that Connor would something terrible with it. All this time I was focused on covering my ass, I was focused on the fact that the letter was mine, not Connor’s.

This whole time, even after he was gone, it didn’t compute. I didn’t realize. The reason he took it. He didn’t take it because he wanted to use it against me. 

Was it possible he took it...because he felt the same way? 

“I bet he always brings things back to some shit that happened with your father.”

“Yeah…Yeah he does do that.” I laugh a little. 

“Mine liked to equate my drug use with suppressed sexual frustrations. I told him I didn’t think they were very suppressed.”

I laugh, but quickly stop myself, remembering what happened last time I laughed at something he said, but when I turn to him he’s actually smiling. A little, at least. 

“Into the Wild.” As far as abrupt subject changes go, that one might take the cake. He turns to my shelf. 

“I’m—I’m sorry?”

He runs his finger along the spine of a book...or maybe just tries to. Or pretends to.

“O-Oh! You’re talking about the book!”

“I have a copy of it too—had," he scoffs, then mutters, seemingly more to himself than to me: "It feels weird to talk about myself in the past tense."

I'm sure it does feel weird. 

I feel weird. 

This whole thing is weird. 

Even without the whole ghost thing, it feels weird to be in my room, talking about books with Connor Murphy. Like, to actually talk to him, as opposed to nervously and pitifully trying to defend myself, fearing I'll have a black eye in the morning.

“What were you and Zoe talking about?” He asks, changing the subject yet again, like that one hadn’t satisfied him enough.

“W-Oh, you saw us talking in the car. She—“ I grimace. “She wanted to know if we, uh, if we did drugs together.” 

He snorts. “Always a charmer, that Zoe. My biggest fan you could say. You said we were friends and her first assumption was that we did drugs together. Can’t say her suspicion is unfounded. At least on my end. Though something tells me you’re not the type.”

“No—No I’ve never—“ I swallow. "No."

"So." Yet another subject change, it sounds like. "I had a secret email account, huh? I used it to talk to you all the time?

I freeze.

Yup. Just when I think the worst has already happened, I'm reminded hell has nine circles, and I haven't even arrived at the lobby.

When he was dead, he was a symbol. And, really—as terrible as it sounds—I could say anything about a symbol. I mean he wasn’t going to hear me. But now that I know he’s not dead—well, he is dead, just…undead, as insane as that is to think—and real (as far as I can tell), and he very much canhear me, I remember, despite the sadness in his eyes, this is still Connor Murphy, the kid who thew a printer at Mrs. G in second grade. 

What the hell was I thinking? 

His eyes darken. “Like, what? Secret lovers?" He shook his head. "Why the fuck would you say that?”

“Oh god, yeah I….I did say that.” Somebody just end it. “It was the only thing that made sense.”

“What kind of fucking sense does that make?!” There's a curl to his fingers. 

Even though I know he can’t hurt me, my body doesn’t; it’s been trained to run away, and can’t help but stumble backwards like there’s a corporeal person in my room. 

“Well they wanted to know how we could be friends without them knowing it.”

He scoffs. “I took you for some kind of loser. But now I see.” He leans forward so his eyes are level with mine. "You’re a diabolical mastermind, Evan Hansen.”

“I’m really—really—not. I just—” I hit the wardrobe in my backing up. I can’t believe he really thinks I intended any of this. My head falls into my hands. “Everything’s so messed up.” 

“You saying I messed everything up?!” There’s a snarl in his voice.

“No—No!” I stand, waving my hands. “I didn’t say that! That’s not what I’m saying! I’m saying I messed everything up!”

I expect him to keep advancing, to try his best to punch me, but instead he stares at me, then sorta…falls onto bed (I’m both surprised he does this, and surprised he can) laying back, sighing. He puts his arm over his face and, to my even greater surprise, he begins to laugh. Not an actual happy laugh. I know this laugh: it’s the kind of laugh I laugh when my body doesn’t know what else to do. 

“Sure, people always ignoring me, always treating me like shit, like I had some disease, that was your fault.” 

“Well, I—“

“Me pushing you, that was your fault." 

“Well that’s—That’s not exactly what I meant.” 

"Me killing myself, leaving nothing but a letter you wrote to yourself…that’s totally your fault.”

I freeze again. I think hell might have frozen over.

He sighs. “You’re right about one thing: everything is truly fucked up.” 

I sit on the bed next to him and look at my hands. I’d like to say something. To do something. To offer some words of comfort. But I’m well acquainted with the fact that 'comforting' words (like 'Chin up! It'll get better!' or ‘It’s not the end of the world.’) really aren’t comforting at all. 

I’d like to at least say ‘It’ll be okay’ but…how can I say that? Maybe, for me, everything will work out in the end (…I think this is the first time that thought has ever crossed my mind) but he’s already dead. There’s nowhere for him to go. Except the afterlife. …If that even exists. 

The world’s already ended for him. 

I’d like to comfort him. To argue against him. To show him at least one nugget that has been unharmed in the fuckage that I could present to him. But I can’t disagree with him. Like…at all. 

Like I said. Things get worse and worse.

And then...you die.

I realize something.

It's not truly comforting, but it's a positive, at least.

I jerk my head up to look at him.

“Hey, maybe-maybe you could help me!”

“Help you?” He lifts his arm a little so he can raise an eyebrow at me. 

“Help me set things right! Help me tell your parents we weren’t really best friends! I’ve been wanting to tell them the truth this whole time I just—I can’t seem to get it out. You could help me figure out how to tell them!”

He sits up, studying me. “I could do that. I could help you set things right. Put an end to this charade.”

I nod profusely. 

“Help you tell my parents that the only thing they have of me is a letter you wrote to yourself. Dash all their hopes and dreams, make them miserable, you know, all that shit.”

It sounds bad when he puts it like that. Maybe the truth won't set you free after all. 

“Or.” His mouth curves into a smirk, and I smile back—not because I’m happy, not because it’s an actual happy smirk, rather because it’s the kind of smirk that makes me nervous as all hell, and when that happens my body picks from a wheel of stupid reactions. “I could watch you continue your little farce, watch you suffer as you invent more and more ridiculous ways to cover your ass.”

No, no, that sounds equally bad. Let’s not do that either. “Is there an option C?” My voice cracks. 

He considers it a moment, sits back on his hands. “I suppose we could compromise. In your little stories about me, it might be nice if you actually portrayed me accurately. I could help with that. Right now your impersonation is laughable. I don’t know how it fooled my parents.”

“I vote for option C.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I mean…What do you want?” 

“Ohh you might just regret that.” He smirks again. 

“Wait, I wasn't agreeing to giving you anything you want! I was just asking—!“

“Too late.” He puts his finger to his lips. “The deal is sealed.”

I keep digging myself into a bigger ditch without even saying anything. Let alone when I open my mouth.

“So what’s the next step of our little game?”

“Well…” I swallow. “Jared told me he could write fake emails. You know because your parents will...probably want to see them.”

“Jared, huh? Kleinman?" (I’m guessing he hasn’t forgotten about the incident from the other day.) “Good thing I’m here. If I’d left you to your own devices I’d end sounding like a—”

“Did you eat already?” 

I nearly scream—well no, not nearly, I do let out a sort of strangled cry—at my mom’s voice. I had been so focused on all of…this craziness that I forgot she was heading home. 

“I didn’t think I was that scary.” She laughs to herself a little, then she looks around the room, brow furrowed. “Were you talking to someone?”

She can’t see him. Good. I don’t have to explain why a dead kid is sitting in my room. 

“N-Nope! Just uhh—Practicing.”

“Practicing? For what?” 

“Uhh, for a play,” I say because what else could I be practicing? I can hear Connor stifling a laugh behind me. 

She blinks in surprise. “Oh, Honey, you’re in the school play?” 

She’s going to say it’s a bad idea. Because it is a bad idea. Because it’s not true. 

“That’s fantastic!”

I blink. What?

“I always thought you hated public speaking. You know, from that time you fainted?”

“I do. That’s, uhh, that’s why I signed up!” I feel my face burning, I make a thumbs up with my casted arm. I know Connor can’t exactly use this against me, but him hearing me stumble through my lies to my mom in my own home isn’t something I signed up for today. Though, I didn’t sign up for any of this. Can I unsubscribe? “Yeah, I wanna get over that fear.”

“I’m so proud of you!” She clasps her hands together. “If you haven’t eaten yet, why don’t we have a celebratory meal?”

I’m shocked. Usually she’s the police on making sure I’ve eaten. 

“Oh…Darn,” I say a little over-emphatically. “I already ate.”

“Darn.” She repeats. 

“That was fun the other day, right?” She says. “Going out for breakfast?”

So much has happened since our breakfast it already feels like ages ago. “Yeah. Definitely. It was.”

“I was thinking, how about I bag one of my shifts this week. When’s the last time we did a taco night?”

I can’t remember, but I’m pretty sure those tortillas in the freezer have turned by now. “Oh. You don’t have to.”

“No, I want to. Maybe we could even start brainstorming those essay questions together.”

The essays. Of course. Her face waits expectantly. “Sure,” I say. “That would be great.”

“Oh. That’s exciting,” she says looking victorious. “I’m excited now. Something to look forward to.”

“Yeah.”

“‘Practicing’?” Connor snorts after she leaves. “‘For a play’? You? You really need some coaching on this whole lying business. I thought you were a terrible liar with my parents but this is fucking priceless.” 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I bite.

Something dark enters his eyes. “I think hell will wait for me.”

"Well that's not what I—Oh never mind."

[secretobsessionstuff]

Dakota and Blair. Blair has the worst stomach ache but nothing in particular caused it, it just hurts. Lots of tummy rubs 🥺

Thanks for the request! There's no emeto in this because I didn't get the sense that you wanted that. And anyway, this is so perfectly soft that emeto would ruin it.

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

“I’m dying,” Blair muttered as she buried her face in her pillow. She had flopped down on her bed and was now attempting to smother herself. The ache in her belly was going to kill her anyway; she might as well move the process along. Flopping was not something she should have been doing, however. Her sore stomach immediately groaned out of discomfort when the weight of her body slammed down on the mattress.

Blair moaned loudly, trying to catch the attention of her boyfriend. Dakota sat at the desk, swiveling his chair back and forth. His earbuds prevented him from hearing Blair enter the room and subsequently flop on the bed. 

She huffed and tried again. “Kota.” He kept looking at the computer screen. “Dakota.” 

Annoyed, Blair threw a pillow at him. Despite her sluggish state, her aim was perfect. It hit Dakota in the side of his head, messing up his hair and achieving her goal of grabbing his attention. 

He turned around, yanking one earbud out of his ear. “Oh, you’re so lucky I don’t have my camera on,” he said, flattening his hair down. “What the heck was that for?”

“Wait, are you in a meeting?” Blair asked, suddenly regretting her decision to attack him with bedding. She tried to get a better look at the computer screen. It did indeed look like a meeting, with some squares displaying names and others faces. At least Dakota’s square did not show his face, or the girl dying of a stomach-ache in the background. “Oops…sorry.” 

“Whatever,” he said, “Yet another meeting that could have been an email. What do you want?” 

Blair whined and hugged her belly. She had wanted his attention, but now she hesitated. “I wanted you to cuddle with me. My stomach hurts.” The organ let out a gurgle, making her wrap her arms more tightly around her torso. 

“Aw, I’m sorry.” His eyes trailed down to where she protected her middle. “Is it cramps?” 

She shook her head. 

“Was it something you ate?” 

She paused but eventually shook her head. 

“Stomach bug?” Dakota said this one hesitantly, really hoping it wouldn’t be the case. 

“I don’t think so. It just really hurts.” 

Dakota chewed the inside of his mouth. Those were all the likely culprits he could think of. “Well then, we better go to the doctors so they can diagnose you with really hurts syndrome.” 

“Will they give me make it all better pills?” 

“What kind of doctor would they be if they didn’t?” 

Dakota smiled softly at her. Even though he liked joking this way with her, he could see that she did look to be in pain. Her skin was shiny with sweat and her gentle features were knotted with tension. She wiggled on the bed, squirming with discomfort. Her groans and whines did nothing to ease his concerns. Again, she repeated that she was going to succumb to whatever mystery illness turned her stomach. 

Before Dakota could offer another sarcasm comment as way of comfort, a voice in his other ear demanded his attention. “Bee, I have to unmute myself for a second. Try not to make any dying wale sounds.” 

Blair sighed and that was the last noise she made for a while. It took a huge amount of effort not to groan out loud when a cramp squeezed her insides. She couldn’t understand where all this pressure and hurt was coming from. It had come on slowly, starting out only as a dull pinprick of annoyance. As time when on, that point of discomfort bloomed into a throbbing pulse she couldn’t ignore. Like a shockwave, the pain grew to envelope her entire abdomen. It was a mix of the fullness you feel after eating a heavy meal combined with the gut churning nausea of motion sickness. Except she hadn’t eaten anything too heavy, and their house certainly wasn’t swaying on the open seas. 

Dakota’s professional voice was funny to listen to. It didn’t suit his personality at all, and at times his sense of humour couldn’t help but creep into his sentences. When he chuckled, she hoped the other people in the meeting were laughing as well. She imaged that working with a co-worker like Dakota would inject a bit of light-heartedness into every day. 

When Dakota stopped talking, he didn’t turn back to Blair like she hoped he would. He did fortunately turn off his mic which she gathered from the fact that he let out a chesty burp. 

Blair still wanted cuddles, so she climbed off the bed and slowly approached him from behind, being careful to stay hidden by his body. When she could see that his camera was off to, Blair came around to his front. 

“You good?” Dakota asked just as she got on his lap and buried her head in his chest. “Oh okay, so this is what we’re doing now.” He checked to make sure that his mic and camera were still off. All was good. No one else on the call was aware that he had an entire adult human crushing him against his chair. 

“Bee,” Dakota said with a laugh. “This can’t be comfortable for you.” Her legs were folded awkwardly on the seat, and she had her arms draped over his shoulders. 

But she didn’t move or say anything, only made a low humming noise in her throat. 

Fine, Dakota sighed to himself. As long as his legs didn’t go numb, he didn’t mind so much. She was warm, like a weighted blanket that applied a comforting pressure to his chest. If he had to speak up in the meeting, he would keep his camera off. 

He settled into the position, dragging his flat palms over her back. When the meeting droned on and on, he got restless and started to trace fun shapes on her back with his fingertips. 

“And this one’s a flower,” he whispered by her ear. He could feel her smile into his neck. It was a good feeling. The best. He quickly erased the imaginary drawing by wiping away the linger sensation of his fingers. 

The new drawing started out as a simple circle in the middle of her back. As he was about to draw a smaller circle in between her shoulder blades, he felt her tense up. A loud gurgle rippled through her belly. She moaned into his neck. He longed to make her smile come back. 

He clicked his tongue against his teeth and cooed. “It really hurts, doesn’t it?”

Blair nodded. “I don’t feel good.” 

“I know.” He kissed the top of her head. 

“Will you rub my belly?” Blair asked in a small voice. 

That was going to be tricky. Blair’s stomach was pressed up against his. He couldn’t get his hands between their bodies. This would be much easier on the bed, but of course he was still tethered to his computer by earbuds—and the meeting that was still going! But this was a spousal emergency! It didn’t matter that they weren’t married yet. Tummy rubs were a vital element to long lasting marriages. Dakota figured he better start early. 

Dakota did the only he could; he left the virtual meeting. But that wasn’t sufficient. Moments later he came back to the meeting, putting in the chat that he was having some technical difficulties and that his wifi might cut out again. 

And whatta you know, it happened again! Pesky unstable wifi.

After leaving the meeting for a second time, Dakota took out his earbuds. He was free! He tightened his arms around his girlfriend as he stood up. She, having done this before, wrapped her legs around his body as he carried her to the bed. 

He set her down as gently as he could. For a second, she hung off his neck like a sloth before letting go. 

“You’re so cute,” he said, kissing her forehead. 

“No, I’m dying.” Blair said, feeling the ache in her stomach sprout wings that battered against her insides. 

“You can do both simultaneously.” He kissed her nose as his hands found their way to her stomach. “You’ll prove me right when you’re ninety and truly dying.” 

Dakota shut up for a moment, enough to give her a sense of calm as he trailed his fingers along her stomach. He traced shapes onto her warm skin, playing the game by himself. He finished the snowman that he’d been drawing on her back. Then he drew a swirl that started near her ribs and spiralled to her belly button. 

Blair shivered. She was dying a little less now. Her belly still hurt, but the pain was dissipating with every circle that Dakota drew. He alternated between light touches and firm kneading. Both were divine touches in their own unique ways. 

With her eyes closed, Blair suddenly felt his lips on hers. So soft. The kissed trailed down her neck, her sternum, eventually landing on her bloated belly. He let his lips linger there. Gentle and warm. His breath made goosebumps rise on her arms. 

He stopped there, letting the memory of touch dwell in her belly. Her breathing had evened out now, so he carefully got off the bed without disturbing her sleep. The hint of a smile lingered on her lips even in slumber. 

[blackbird-brewster]

All the even numers >:)

Bahahaha, alright Anon. I saved this for last.

2. Do you drink tea or coffee? How do you take it? 

(Answered here)

4. Do you sleep on your back, stomach or side? 

I'm a side sleeper, mostly facing outwards. But sometimes, I wind up on my back and when I do I snore so loud Doom Them has to wake me up.

6. Do you prefer drawing or writing? 

I can't draw for shit. Writing is my creative talent

8. What’s your favourite band/artist? 

I have SO many. I listen to a wild range of music. Everything from ska to indie rock to punk to emo to pop. Some of my all-time fave bands include: The Killers, Foreigner, Avett Brothers, Postal Service, Betty Who, Beyonce, Lizzo, Tegan and Sara.

10. How tall are you? 

5'6" or 168 cm

12. Who are five (or more) people you want to hug right now? 

@otahkoapisiakii @bittersweet-bibliophile @the-kazoo-kid @gaelic-symphony @mygenitiveisobjective

14. What’s your favourite colour? 

(Answered here)

16. Want any tattoos? What of? 

I have around 35 tattoos (hard to count when you have half sleeves and such). I DO want more tattoos, but in the past two years one of my chronic conditions has made it so I'm allergic to my tattoos. They get welts and hives all the time. Which really sucks because uhhhh, my entire body is covered in them 🤷‍♂️

18. Who is the last person you texted? 

I sent Frankie some smut as a little treat!

20. What/who do you miss? 

I miss all my loves in the US. But in terms of 'what' -- the thing I miss everyday is being able to leave my house without it having to be an entire Event. I miss life before the pandemic where I didn't have to take 100 pre-emptive steps to protect myself every time I go out. I miss 2020 when everyone (in my country) was in this together, when everyone was masking and staying home when they were sick, when everything was accessible by being online. I miss when people cared.

The pandemic isn't over. Some of us have never left lockdown.

22. How much sleep did you get last night? 

I actually went to sleep hella early. I was asleep before my daily kudos email (this is how I tell time, okay?) which comes about 00:20. Then, I got up early with Doom Them -- so I think I got about 7 hours? I only need 5-6 to be functional.

24. When was the last time you cried? Why? 

Last night I cried from laughing so hard at this picture of our cat

26. What are some seemingly childish things you like? 

I don't believe joy has an age limit. I'm a regular at our local toy stores, I know all the staff, I'm always buying new fidget toys and Squishmallows. I got into Squishmallows about the same time I got my Autism dx (mid-2020) and since then, Squish have become a constant form of comfort for us. We currently have about 300 in our collection -- and that's after some major downsizing. There's no way to know how many squish we've rotated through over the years. Here's the last full squad photo we took in Jan 2022 (there's nowhere in our house to do a full pic of the 300 we have currently)

28. How are you, really? 

I'm actually doing well this week. Summer weather arrived without warning and my depression is lifting. I feel really inspired for the first time in weeks!

30. What are you looking forward to in the near future? 

Finishing Fooled Around (and Fell in Love) - Part 3!!!!!!!!

32. If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go? 

If I could see my US friends without actually having to go to the US itself, that would be perfect.

34. What’s your favourite flower? 

(Answered Here)

36. Do you like your middle name?

Not really. My middle name is the name of some random ski instructor my parents met the year before I was born (I have theories about this, about why my dad randomly remembered this person's name -- but that's a whole other thing. Oh, and also that's one of my middle names, it's complicated. I have like 5 names)

38. Do you have any phobias? 

Ornithophobia (fear of birds). Also scared of horses, cows, and airbags.

40. Do you like the beach? Do you prefer it sunny or cloudy? 

YES!! I love living ten minutes from the beach. We go there a lot to relax and scream at the ocean. I prefer sunny weather, hands down, but it's cloudy 90% of the time here.

42. Tag 5 of your favourite blogs

Oh, this is really difficult. I'll just tag some rad mutuals: @knitmeapony @chaotic-archaeologist @unitchiefs-blackbirdphoenix @gaelic-symphony @artcake

44. Who was the last person you said “I love you” to? 

I've said 'I love you' to at least five people today and it's only 10am. And I meant every one of those. I'm very much the type of person who loves my partners and friends openly and freely.

46. What do you need when you’re sad? 

Cranky Cave(tm)! Cranky cave is when I'm having meltdowns. I go to my room and turn on the fairy lights and galaxy projector. Grab a ton of squish and fidgets. Bury myself in blankets. And watch my comfort shows.

48. Who’s someone you can trust with your life? 

Doom Them, Kay, Coyote.

[Send Me Asks]

[theluxuriansecret]

Dearest Diary 07282023

1:03 pm

Okay. It's time to start healing and truly prioritizing myself. The last 72 hours have been so fucking chaotic like the shit is not funny. The moon was in scorpio, Venus is retrograding and so many things are just happening it's getting fucking scary. It's showing me that I am not healing the way I need to, and I'm not moving on the way I say I am. I'm participating in things I told myself I wouldn't. This is the post where I lay every fucking thing on the table. Every bad feeling, ever mistake, everything in my head. A total and complete dump because I refuse to bring any of this with me into August.

Let's start from Wednesday. I clocked into work and I receive an email from my ex with the subject line "Peace ?". Bruh, I was as peaceful as I could get before you messaged me that shit. He explains to me how he doesn't like how the bridge between us burned and how in our lives, we rarely make as meaningful connections as the one we had. I explained to him that I think that the connections we make mean something for sure, and each connection is different than the next, but not every connection we make is meant to last. I just don't believe that. He told me he even spoke to his new girlfriend about contacting me and that she's as understanding of the situation as she can be. Which, I feel kinda bad for her because, if my boyfriend came to me and was telling me how he wants to reach out to his ex girlfriend to rekindle, I'd be sick to my stomach soooo fucking bad. Having a connection to him does not benefit me and I lack to see where a connection to me would be beneficial to him too. I can't stand to be his friend. I can't stand to see how it was so easy for him to move on after everything. I can say that truly I am happy to not be with him, and that I do not want to get back together. But you found someone so quickly. You found someone new before we completed a full orbit around the sun from when we ended things. Like thats insane to me. And then you drag her into your past by trying to reconnect with me, that doesn't sit right with me. Quite frankly, I don't think thats fair to her, me, or him. Our communication this last time around wasn't bad, but I don't see how consistent communication would be beneficial.

Next, we have J..... I have got to let this fucking man go . Like it is mental illness atp. So let's go back through everything. Let's break it down. I met him last September on bumble, we chatted, shit was sweet, we hooked up. THE only difference between him and everyone else is two things. The first thing being that he was the first person to make me feel something since I had ended things with my ex. Was it all in my head? yeah. unfortunately. That was not his fault, but entirely, entirely mine. So we met up a few times, he made me feel love where none was present, and then he ghosted me. Obviously fucking up my ego because I had never been ghosted before by someone I felt something with and I really took a blow. I didn't handle it well at all. Like, was truly down bad. I turned to other men, obviously that didn't help. It just made me feel worse. He then comes back and I let him back and he gives me chlamydia. Cool. Even then I still can't get over it. He is still on my mind. I still watched out videos, I still listened to him say my name and tell me to cum for him. I still looked at picture of him in my phone, I still wished for him to come back. Why? I want him to choose me, why? I have no idea. I wanted to be chose by him. He made me feel special, although those were never his intentions, thats what his actions relayed to me. That how I portrayed that, and again that's no one else's fault but mine. Anyway that leads me into what I did yesterday. I was stalking his page as I do and I saw a comment under a picture of his dog that says "my little baby" for some reason ever since I saw it's been ringing in my fucking head, and it will not go away. I accidentally like the fucking comment like a fucking moron idiot. I unliked immediately. Long story short, he went private again haha. As he should, please block me tf out because I'm losing my fucking mind over you. I ended up blocking him. Blocked all his accounts on both my accts. I need to move on because it is actually causing harm to me. Emotional cutting if you will. I need to really heal. He didn't like me, he didn't want me, he never felt that way about me, he never ever did and he never will.

Lets move on to F..... . To be honest, I have very little to say about him because I was really over him after the first time he severely disrespected me, but he made me realize how scared I was to actually be alone. Thanks for that fucking lesson my guy. He also taught me not to tolerate disrespect. Ever. Not for a second. He did something unforgivable to me and I didn't address it the second he did it. What did he do? I don't think I've put it into words here, so let me do that now. He woke me up to have sex and then when i turned around his phone was out and he tried to hide it. What he was doing on his phone was between him and god. I really wish I slapped tf out of him for that. I really wish I got up and was like nahh and left and never communicated and never saw him again after that, but no, I let it slide, I let way tooooo much slide with him. I wish when he told me at the bar that "the only reason people were speaking to me because of him" that I walked out and left him there. I literally drove us there. Would have been the ultimate pay back. I can't go back and change the past, and I won't blame myself, but I do know better now so I will not stand for it. He also taught me not to lower my standards cause if we're being for real that mfker was UGLY. No more ugly men, never ever ever ever. I rather be alone than tolerate disrespect from an ugly man. YUCK.

Moving on to my rebound. I actually feel kinda bad that he was a rebound because I wanted him before I met F..... and he's a nice guy but thats it. ALSO, also, I'm doing the same shit with him that I did with J.... . Which is truly unfortunate. Making things out to be what they aren't. Okay lets tell his story because I really was so hesitant to speak on him at all with anyone or here because then it makes it real. I don't want it to be real. Anyway, lets call this man JC. I met JC back in February when I was initially dealing with getting over J.... . I went up to him at the club and if im being completely honest, I don't know what the fuck I could've said to this man because I was so so drunk. He messaged me on instagram about seeing me, but he wasn't really making plans, so I would never see him. I made it clear that I wasn't on instagram often and that when/if he dmed me I wouldn't see it until I opened the app. Anyway, after I cut F.... of I did the sam exact thing I did with J.... and hit up a bunch of guys I knew wanted me, him included. We ended up hooking up and like he's cool. But that it. He's just a nice guy who I'm attracted to and I've occasionally hooked up. My mistake was when I started to visualize what it would be like to be with him. I don't even know him. We don't speak on a day to day. We only speak when he hits me up for convenient sex. Which, I don't complain about because I go over there every single time. Even last time when my heart was screaming no, I still said yes. Will is say yes next time? I don't know. The only difference is like the things he would say, but I'm self aware enough to know his actions do not match his words. One time we linked, he brought up that when he texted me about my scent, it's because he smelled it and thought of me. Which is sweet. And then he told me that he would think if me every thursday when he had football because they would practice really close to the school that I attend. Like... Then the very last time I saw him, in between our kisses we were talking about my scent again and I told him I wore the one I knew he liked, and he said he liked both (in regards to me wearing a different perfume) and then he said "i like you" but like obviously his actions don't reflect the actual like that I feel like he talked about. like. He doesn't go out of his way to talk to me, or to see me often, or he isn't that interested in really getting to know me outside of only wanting to know me because it makes him feel less shitty for just sleeping with me.

I think it is truly time to start rebuilding my self esteem and my self worth and working on a deeper self love because whatever I thought it was before, is not. That small little foundation I have built has crumbled and I've made myself sad again. I need to put myself first truly. I need to respect my wishes and my desires. I need to say no when I mean no. I need to value myself higher. I am worthy something whether I am poor or rich. I am worthy something whether I am the most beautiful or the most ugly. I am worthy something just because I exist. I am worthy. I deserve love and respect because I exist. And I need to start acting like that.

SOTD: I Gotta Find Peace of Mind - Live by Ms Lauryn Hill

[mlobsters]

supernatural s8e22 clip show (w. andrew dabb)

bro, dude from the wendigo episode? *looks at episode title* oh right. little puka shell necklace and i recall a satphone?

from s1e2 wendigo HALEY He checks in every day by cell. He emails, photos, stupid little videos—we haven't heard anything in over three days now. SAM Well, maybe he can't get cell reception. HALEY He's got a satellite phone, too.

pat on the brain for that one, i remember the important stuff :p

so is someone gonna go through and knock off people the winchesters saved, via mind splats

why is dean grumpy with cas again? aghh. taking off with the tablet? hopefully they'll fight and fill me in :p

CASTIEL Dean. I'm sorry. DEAN For what? CASTIEL For everything. DEAN Everything? Like, uh... Like ignoring us? CASTIEL Yes. DEAN Or like bolting off with the Angel Tablet, then losing it 'cause you didn't trust me? You didn't trust me. CASTIEL Yes. DEAN Yeah. Nah, that's not gonna cut it. Not this time. So you can take your little apology and you cram it up your ass.

s7e21 reading is fundamental

you can stuff your sorries in a sack, mister

CASTIEL Dean, I thought I was doing the right thing. DEAN Yeah, you always do.

seriously, dude. they all fuck up while thinking they're doing the right thing, but he does it on such a grand scale. wipes out a ton of humans and angels being god for a hot minute, what even was the body count related to the leviathans getting out. whew. at least with ruby sam had the powers of heaven and hell conspiring to make it go down the way it did

SAM Dude, go easy on Cas, okay. He's one of the good guys. DEAN Dude, if anybody else – I mean anybody – pulled that kind of crap, I would stab them in their neck on principle. Why should I give him a free pass? SAM Because it's Cas.

this really makes me laugh because i've struggled with cas on this show a lot! they're always trying to convince me that he's all tight with dean but they never show it! haha anyway. nothing needs to make sense, he's paving the way to hell with good intentions and the fan fave

oh, the dungeon, lol i have also heard about this place

goober

they got abaddon from that? i thought it was pete from mad men

SAM Hey, those chains look exactly like the ones in our dungeon. CASTIEL In your what? DEAN Demon on a leash – cool.

lol. dean is being such a child. sam, tell the angel that i'm not talking to him

yeah he does

this scene with him coughing up blood again, just reminds me of how i was always vaguely confused as to how the trials made him sick because it seemed like a set of strange issues. it wasn't clear in what i read always if time in the bathroom was from stomach thing or coughing up blood thing. but i see now the food/nausea elements combined with the consumption. i mean. does he have heavenly tuberculosis?

DEAN Well, short story is, uh, Sammy there is gonna take whatever shredded your friend and every other black-eyed bitch out there, and he's gonna get rid of them for good. FATHER SIMON He is? In his condition? DEAN Father, over the past couple of months, I've seen him do crap that I didn't even think was possible. I mean, sure, he's miserable and he's hurting, but you know what? There's not a doubt in my mind that he's gonna cross that finish line – not one. So, will you help us?

oh, dean. well, i appreciate them letting us hear dean be so proud and faithful. journey from the "the only person who doesn't let me down is benny" moment

i often feel similarly. this attempt at shopping and him being clueless and awful is something

seeing cas interact with metatron kind of highlights to me how particular of a character they're having cas portray. it's not like all angels have this quite flat affect and clueless about humans thing.. and cas didn't always either (he was really bitingly snarky there for bits which doesn't really line up with whatever lack of abilities in pretending to be a person thing is happening now) but after all the brain scrubs who has room for personality retention, right?

it gives me derek from teen wolf vibes. he had a purpose in the early days, then he was a fan fave and part of a big ship and they kept him around and seems like they had no idea what to do with his character. it was weird. this is weird

so how does castiel not know metatron? i thought all the angels were siblings. and is megatron about to talk cas into another extremely bad idea?

METATRON Is that what she told you? I mean, Naomi's a player – don't get me wrong – just one of many. There are factions upon factions, all fighting, betraying each other. It's just a matter of time before they start ripping each other apart. It's all broken. CASTIEL I know, I'm the one who broke it. There was a time when I thought I could lead our people, but I was mistaken. I spilled so much blood. And I've tried to atone for my sins and I did penance. And I [sighs] betrayed my friends to protect our secrets, but I've just failed. And now – METATRON Look, I know. But now the angels – heaven – need someone to come to the rescue. They need us.

this is what i get for zoning out during heavenly politics scenes

FATHER THOMPSON The date is August 3, 1958. This is trial 19, hour 1. My subject is Peter Kent. Mr. Kent is the father of two young sons, and three weeks ago, he was possessed by a demon. I'm going to ask you a question now. When you crawled into Mr. Kent and ate his children, how did it feel? PETER KENT Orgasmic.

okay.

whole cas and metatron angel trials closing the gates of heaven okay i don't even know

looks real disgusted for sure

that's a good look on her

SAM How'd you get this number? Crowley Ah, first things first – what are you wearing? DEAN Oh, okay, hanging up now. Hang up. Crowley Fine. This isn't a social call.

leaving abaddon unattended, great idea guys.

wheezed at the size of the print

😂 ok

CROWLEY Oh, Moosie, isn't it obvious? I'm killing everyone you've ever saved – the damsels in distress, the innocent whippersnappers, the would-be vampire chow – all of them.

baby sam (and the cute hair) and a lady he kissed that didn't die, will she get by twice?

SAM That's new. SARAH Yeah, I... His name is Ian. He works search and rescue. Guess I have a type. Our daughter, Bess – she'll be one in a month. SAM That's, uh, great. I mean it. I'm really, uh... I'm really happy for you.

shame dean-o can't give you kids

SAM Me? Pretty much the same, I guess. SARAH No, you're not. You're not the same. Look, it's been years, and I can't even imagine the things you've been through. But I don't know. You just seem...more focused, confident, like... ...like you know what you want. You grew up, Sam. SARAH I do miss the old haircut, though.

very sweet

CROWLEY I thought of sending in a few of my bruisers, really letting them go to town. But then, well, trial one was kill a Hellhound. Trial two was rescue a soul from the pit. So, from here on, I'm gonna keep everything hell-related – demons, et cetera – away from you. Safe side and all that – plus, I just thought it seemed fitting. From what I understand, Sammy took that bird's breath away. What's the line? "Saving people, hunting things – the family business." Well, I think the people you save, they're how you justify your pathetic little lives. The alcoholism, the collateral damage, the pain you've caused – the one thing that allows you to sleep at night, the one thing is knowing that these folks are out there, still out there happy and healthy because of you, you great, big, bloody heroes!

the supernatural books allowing this to get more meta. liked how they did his speechifying intercut with them searching but kept that all soundless.

rip sarah, thought maybe having a 1 year old baby would save you

all right i think i know the general endpoint of this storyline but no idea how we get there from here. we'll see tomorrow. blaming dabb for not being able to shut up about this episode

[elizabeth1234dontknow]

A missing girl in My house (rewrite)

Hello...hello..hi

My therapist told me to tell my feelings out

I remember when I was 4 or 5 I believe it was in the 2000s I can't remember my memory is off i remember seeing a person in the hallway and always knocking on my bedroom door but it would stop at 5am but this only happened because of a bet at a one sleepover it was Truth of dare they told me to go to an that old abandoned house in the woods I didn't want to go but they would make fun of me so I did it I'm still ashamed of it to this day but then I made a new friend when I turn 6 years old every time in my house I saw a little girl but she only was around me when I was alone but when everyone else was around she wasn't there it was creepy it was very creepy but I couldn't do anything I was helpless and if I tried to leave she said no to me I was scared to admit it but I couldn't do anything about it I was so scared sometimes she would play with a knife with me it was scary and everyone else thought I was crazy I'm not I swear I'm not

It was very creepy for me I always get nightmares I always have scars on my body and I don't know why this is happening to me I'm so scared I always saw her face in my nightmares her face was burnt only I could see her skull and I'm so tired of this please stop please stop please stop please stop please stop please stop please stop please stop please stop please stop please stop please stop please....

Sorry I'm just still scared of those nightmares I'll come back when I'm ready....

(after a month later)

I'm okay now but it's still scared this person has been following me lately it was very creepy and not good I'm going to go back to that forest I'm not going to be scared anymore if I find anything I'll tell you I'm need to find out I just got to go to that house in the forest I don't care I'm going to finish what I started I don't care I don't want any of these nightmares anymore more I'm f****ing done with this do you here me I'm done with this sh*t I'm so damn done I need help

(a week later)

So I found an body in these but it still freaks me out still I was still sick to my stomach I felt like I wanted to throw up it was so scared I'm so scared I didn't know what do but...I still feel like this is getting worse for me there is this weird person has been following me and I'm getting called they are all unknown but it's scary to me I want it to stop but somehow this person knows my email and has been sending these messages like

How could you forget me,why did you move but when you come back you just left me to rot and when you came back I feel like you betrayed me you said we were friends all way together, together forever!!!!

(end of the email)

It was horrible it never stopped it just kept on coming the emails but it was mistake to go back I just can't anymore I think it was a mistake still I just want it to go home...

(a year later)

I think I'm very tired my therapist told me it could be just an hallucination but I think someone is stalking me I need help I just can't anymore I think I should leave this town because the nightmare go away when I move out of town I think I should move I think it's for the best for me I'm sorry mom...Dad...my friends.... I'm leaving and leaving coming back goodbye....

(when I pick up my phone I got one last email that says see you one day and it made me sick to my stomach)

(end)

[neverwritewhatyouknow]

I’ve been trying to draft this out for a while, but it’ll never be good enough for what I want to say, so I’m just gonna post it anyway.

I’ve been thinking a lot and I apologized once last year for my behavior, but I have to do it again. I truly hate what I did. Not all of it, I like that I was able to educate people on antisemitism in Hollywood (a very real issue even if I have it a bad rep) and shine a light on Black Jews and harmful stereotypes in media, and other more academic-minded stuff. But the rest of what I posted, I hate.

When I first starting posting on here about RWRB it was during what was honest to god the worst time of my life. A period I’m still trying to get passed. I faced numerous, intense personal tragedies within a very short amount of time and it trigged my already present (but never terrible up to this point) bipolar depression. I spent the better part of 2 or 3 years swinging wildly from manic stages to the darkest lows. When I would post on here I thought I was doing it with a crystal clear head. I would think “I’ve never been this sharp before” … and it was because I wasn’t, not even close. But you don’t realize that until way afterwards. Maybe I knew subconsciously and it was a form of self-harm, idk, but I thought what I was doing was good and just and right. I thought I was in control of my own actions. It was only once I began to heal and (for lack of better term) snap awake, that I could see what I had done. While I do think maybe my heart for advocacy was in the right place, everything else had gone way too far, way too wrong, way too bad. I wasn’t in control or in my right mind. I’m not using my mental health as an excuse for what I did, because I can’t excuse it like that, but just to explain why I did.

I’m not too proud to admit when I’ve made a mistake. And I made a huge one. I should never have used this account like I did. I’m deeply ashamed and remorseful and every other word I can think of to describe the nauseating, dark, sick feeling I get in my stomach whenever I think back or even open this app. I was wrong. That’s a fact. It’s something I couldn’t see then, couldn’t even imagine thinking then, but it’s so painfully obvious.

Like last time and always, my biggest apologies go to Rachel. Someone who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was never about her. Rachel is such a talented actress and good person and I hate that at any point I may have hurt her. She deserves my apology. At some point I will be working on getting an apology through to her via her team, but that will take more planning and email contacts that I don’t have right now. But she deserves a direct apology and I want to give her one.

I know I’m talking vaguely and have purged some of my posts, so just in case anyone sees this and has no clue what happened, in the plainest terms: In my deranged quest to prove that they had changed Nora’s ethnicity in the movie, I had severely overstepped into posting about Rachel. There was never anything negative about her race. Never anything racist. I know how the internet thinks and people will assume that’s what it is when they see me apologizing to her, but no, it’s because I overstepped, I shouldn’t have involved her in this. I shouldn’t have done it at all, but I def shouldn’t have involved her.

I also apologize to the crew of the movie, various members, for anything I hurled their way. I can’t say I remember everything, because its like my memories are a mess of haze and fog and too dark to see anymore, but I know that I said things I shouldn’t have and I apologize for it.

The truth is, we’ll never know why the movie made the choices it did. I shouldn’t have demanded to know. I shouldn’t have taken my own anger at myself and the world, out on others. Even if I didn’t realize at the time that I was.

This will haunt me for the rest of my life. I made terrible choices. Acted in ways that make me so ashamed. I want to be a person I can be proud of, and I am not proud of the person I was. I’m not proud of my actions. I am not proud of any of it. But I’m honest and when I make a mistake I own up to it, always. This account, my actions regarding RWRB, everything surrounding it, these are my biggest mistakes.

I don’t think these words will ever really express how sorry I feel. How sorry I am. But this all started on here with some blog posts, so it’s fitting that my apologies are here too.

Just know, I really believe what I did was stupid, harmful, hurtful, obsessive, rude, and just plain wrong.

I’m glad to be on the other side now, able to look back at my behavior and see it more clearly. I hope that the educational things I taught stay with everyone and are able to help you in the future, but I hope in time that we all can accept what I did with RWRB as the mistake it was. One that I deeply regret and wish I could go back and never do.

[lunaraindrop]

A real-life update and a rant from your girl, Luna 😁

I'm going to rant here for a moment. This is about the woman who will soon be my former boss.

I posted not too long ago that I was putting in my two weeks notice. Things were so bad at the school. I tried to hold out...but I just couldn't take it anymore.

Part of the huge problem is communication, or lack thereof when it comes to the director telling me important things. Another part is just how clipped and downright mean she can be towards me.

Last Thursday, I was made to work over ten hours, again, with the summer program at my school. We are short staffed. I was tricked into it, despite me going over my director's head to *her* boss to make it stop. Which she said she would make sure it didn't happen again. But this happened during her vacation.

Someone has to stay with the children, by law. However, there was no schedule up for me to see, and I was not told I was assigned to work manditory overtime that day in advance.

This is right after two weeks in a row of having to stay late and working fifty plus hours.

That's over one hundred hours of work time in two weeks, folks. And I work with children. This isn't a desk job.

It was after work that day that I had a dizzy spell. I haven't had one in quite a while.

Life with an autoimmune disease like Hashimoto's is not easy. I take my thyroid medication, I try to stay hydrated, and I try to get the rest I need.

My doctors continue to stress that I need less stress and rest to be at my healthiest.

But, back to dizzy spells. Yes, plural. Also, seeing spots, ringing in my ears, and yucky stomach issues.

I did end up getting checked out by my doctor, and then the ER a couple of days later.

The verdict?

I was suffering from exhaustion and dehydration!

I let work know that I had medical issues. Silence. Not a word.

I was brief, but I kept my boss up to date on my situation.

Silence.

I was bound and determined to get some rest and try to finish my two weeks.

On Tuesday, after I left the hospital, I realized that I left my big, practically new bottle of ketchup in my classroom's refrigerator. I didn't feel like going out to buy a new one, so I stopped by the school and got it. I also took my insulated cup home to clean.

This morning, my boss finally lifted the radio silence to say, "I assume you're not coming back. You used your key on Tuesday. To come get your things, maybe?"

...

Folks, I have barely taken a day off. I haven't taken my vacation at all this year. I've worked hard, have kept everything up to date. I have been lied to and trampled on by this school...to the point that it effects my health...and *that* is her reply?! Does that mean she didn't check any of my other messages?!

Anyway, I professional let her know that I had every intention to fulfill my last week of my notice, but *as I have said*, I've been having medical issues. I painstakingly told her about going to get my bottle of ketchup, and taking my cup home to clean. If she thought a cup and a bottle of ketchup were my only personal items in my classroom...she is insane. I have my planner, my instruction books, my planter, everything I have purchased for the classroom!

To put icing on the cake, she went ahead and deleted my work email!

All because I was taking my earned, needed sick days!

*sigh*

I'm so glad I'm leaving.

EDIT:

Another reason I decided to post this is because I am pretty sure a coworker, or, err, *former* coworker, follows me on here. In that case, *waves*, hi! This is what happened!