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xuzuitengenx · 11 months

Text

Kyojuro Rengoku x Demon!Male Reader Angst-Fluff? Oneshot (Wattpad)

Title: "A glimpse of the past."

Genre—Angst/Fluff?

Warning(s): MANGA SPOILERS, LONG ONESHOT

A/N: I wrote this at 3-5am so sorry for any grammar or spelling errors!!

"My love! Be careful, please!" M/N yelled at his husband who almost fell as he was getting something to eat in the kitchen. M/N practically teleported to Kyojuro by his side (thanks to his demon abilities) and caught Kyojuro.

"I'm fine, M/N! I just tripped!" Kyojuro says, trying to calm down the worried M/N as he was brought on his feet again.

"I know, but you're still injured." M/N mumbled, still holding Kyojuro close to him as he was afraid to let him go. Kyojuro smiles at this, seeing how protective M/N is over him.

"M/N." Kyojuro called out his name, moving himself in M/N's arms so he was face to face with M/N.

"Kyo?"

Kyojuro places his hands on M/N's cold cheeks. "It's okay- I'm okay. And you don't have to worry about me going on missions anymore." Kyojuro reassures M/N and reminds him that he retired due to his injury that messed up his internal organs.

M/N nodded as he leaned into Kyojuro's warm touch, closing his eyes while calming himself down.

"I'm sorry." M/N apologizes, hugging Kyojuro, but made sure to not hug too tightly as he was still hurt and bandaged up.

Kyojuro shook his head as he hugged M/N back.

"Don't be! You are being protective and very helpful!" Kyojuro complimented.

M/N smiles, kissing Kyojuro's cheek a good couple of times which made Kyojuro giggle softly.

"Let's get you back to bed and I'll make your favorite." M/N proposed, making Kyojuro perk up.

"Sweet potatoes?" Kyojuro asked as he was clearly happy while his eyes sparkled.

"Mhm! Sweet potatoes." M/N confirmed and was instantly pulled by the flame hair man to the bedroom.

'For an injured man, he is still very strong..!" M/N thought himself as he helped Kyojuro on the futon.

M/N didn't leave Kyojuro's side unless he had to go to work at the market that was near by their shared home, but even then, M/N was there for Kyojuro when he needed it.

The couple was happy and healthy for a human and a demon and very much knowing the consequences of these relationships, so that's why both Nezuko and M/N are hoping for a cure from Lady Tamayo of their unwilling choice of becoming a demon.

Still, Kyojuro and M/N stood strong..

Until, Kyojuro's started to get sick.

M/N and Kyojuro thought that it was a normal fever and it would go away after a day with tea and soup, but it didn't.

M/N's concerns started raising as Kyojuro's health started to slowly decrease by the weeks.

Needing to take care of his husband, M/N took some time off of work.

Everything M/N tried to do, it wasn't working.

Doctors who would all recommend the same equipments over and over, warm clothing, warm tea, soup, different herbs.

Nothing, absolutely nothing was working.

Kyojuro knew what was going to happen and he knew that M/N also knew too, but didn't want to accept that fact.

The fact that Kyojuro was dying.

M/N tried to bring his and Kyojuro's hopes that he would be okay. They knew better.

Slowly, but surely, Kyojuro was getting more ill and weaker by the day as he became pale and started to breath unevenly.

One night, M/N was reading everything from the books on what Kyojuro could have as he sat next to Kyojuro who he thought was sleeping.

Kyojuro struggled to move his body towards M/N for he can see him, he successfully did so and sees how intensely M/N was reading the pages.

Feeling a cough itching at his throat, he lets it out and coughs rather violently then before which caught M/N's attention away from the book.

"Kyo.." M/N mumbled, closing the book and leaving it on the ground as he went over to his husband.

Kyojuro's cough settled down and leaving behind a pain in his throat.

M/N grabbed the cup of water that was sitting besides Kyojuro. "Here, take a slip." M/N says, bring the cup close to Kyojuro who denied it, looking at M/N with sadden eyes that was very out of character of Kyojuro before looking away.

Sad part was the fact that those sadden eyes became familiar to M/N now.

"Please, drink the water.." M/N pleaded, wanting him to drink.

"M/N.." Kyojuro mumbles lowly, making M/N hum.

"Can..can you lay with me?" He asks, his voice hoarse as he looked at M/N once again. M/N instantly nods, placing the cup of water down as he mumbles that of course he will.

Hearing that, Kyojuro weakly smiles and watches M/N taking up the empty space that was next to him. M/N lays on the futon and almost immediately, the two snuggled up with one other.

M/N held Kyojuro close to his body, occasionally kissing Kyojuro's forehead which was hot like it was burning. Kyojuro closes his eyes as he felt himself getting sleeper.

Before he closed his eyes, he told M/N something.

"I love you..so much." Kyojuro says in a soft, sleepy tone.

M/N smiles as he felt his heart break for the 1000th time, kissing Kyojuro's forehead once again, but longer before pulling away.

"I love you too, my love.." M/N says, feeling Kyojuro's body relaxed at his words, Kyojuro went to sleep.

He never woke up from that sleep.

His warm body now cold and still in M/N's arms.

M/N's eyes had tears flowing out of his eyes, wanting to breakdown and cry out to his one and only. Hoping that this was part of a fucked up dream.

Throughout the night, M/N heard Kyojuro's heart slowing down as he slept and tried to help any way he could.

He tried everything, but at last, it was already too late and now, M/N was holding Kyojuro's body in his arms, his throat tightening and his chest wanting to let out sobs. Nothing left M/N, only tears.

M/N sat on the ground of his bedroom of his house.

His. Not his and Kyojuro's. Just his.

Hell, he can't even call it a home anymore.

M/N didn't attend his funeral, he couldn't. He couldn't accept the fact that his best friend is dead. He can't face anyone without them saying how sorry they were or talk about loss. M/N can't handle it.

M/N could've died of a broken heart days ago, but he didn't and couldn't as he was a demon and can't die, so he suffers every. single. day.

He hated the fact that he was a demon. He hated it. Why did he become a demon? Why him? Why couldn't he be a demon that could have the ability to turn people so Kyojuro could've been live.

Wouldn't that be selfish? Kyojuro wouldn't want that.

Out of anger of his thoughts, M/N threw the glass cup that was next to him at the wall, watching it break into pieces as the harsh impact was seen on the wall.

M/N was about to throw more stuff, but was stopped when he heard knocking on the front door. M/N didn't want to leave the bedroom, wanting the person to go away until the knocks started to get aggressive, making him slowly leave the room.

His feet dragging across the floor as M/N didn't look around the house. It was him and only him. No Kyojuro greeting him, no Kyojuro reading in silence, No Kyojuro.

M/N made it the door. M/N wiped whatever he had on his face and opened it.

Seeing Uzui standing there, looking quite angry as his beefy arms were crossed.

"You weren't at the funeral." Uzui started. M/N didn't say anything, but nodding slowly.

"Rengoku wouldn't want you-"

"Shut up." M/N demanded, not wanting to even hear his name.

"No, you know he wouldn't want you to do this to yourself-!"

"And you think I don't know that?!"

"Clearly, you don't as you didn't even go to your husband's funeral! Your husband!"

"I think I know that he was my husband, Tengen!"

Silence came the two of them for a moment before Uzui called his name.

"M/N.. He would want you to do something with your life. It doesn't have to be now, or next week, or even a year. Rengoku wouldn't want you to grieve for him like this and I know that for a fact.." Uzui says in a low tone.

M/N felt tears welling up in his eyes, looking on the ground.

"I'll help you get an idea.. Do you still do those flamboyant paintings?" Uzui asked which M/N answered with a slight head shake.

"Well, there you go! Now, if you do decide on doing that, make sure you do my painting first and flamboyant!" Uzui exclaimed.

'A painting, huh?'

M/N was sitting in front of a canvas, a brush in hand as well as fresh paints he bought.

As he went to put the brush in the paints, he realized that he couldn't do this. He remembered when he used to paint a lot when he was dating Kyojuro.

Kyojuro loved his paintings.

M/N didn't noticed that his hand was shaking and puts the paint in the water, washing it off and puts it against the canvas before getting up.

He was going to leave, however, he stayed there, looking back on the canvas.

~ 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲 ~

M/N fixed his black suit as he stood in front of a bathroom mirror. Looking at himself as he looked for any imperfections on his suit or anywhere.

Thinking that he is overthinking this, he walked away from the mirror and leaves the public bathroom, but without forgetting to use hand sanitizer which he put into his hands, rubbing it in.

M/N was walking through a museum of many paintings from over 1000 years ago or recent paintings that became famous.

Walking through people who were fascinated by the many different paintings and art styles, M/N finally made it to the place where he needed to be.

The place where his painting was at.

He was quite surprised of the amount of people that were near it and complimenting it.

"Woah, such a beautiful painting! I wonder who is that person though!"

"I know, right? That person has such vibrant hair!"

"He's pretty!"

"I love this painting!"

"Wow!!"

M/N smiles at the people complementing it, staying behind until some of them started leaving for other paintings.

M/N finally gotten close to his panting enough to see it once again.

The paintings was.. Kyojuro.

It was the day of his and Kyojuro's first festival together. M/N remembered the day clearly and remembers how happy Kyojuro was.

M/N sadly smiles at the picture, reliving the memories for a small moment.

M/N suddenly felt someone standing next to him, admiring the picture. M/N was about to leave, but something caught his attention.

"This painting is absolutely stunning!!"

The person's voice was loud and familiar, making M/N stand in place, holding his breath as tears that haven't left him for over a couple of decades ago started to well in his eyes.

He couldn't help and looks at the person next to him.

It was Kyojuro Rengoku.

His one and only alive again.

His husband standing next to him after over 100 years.

If M/N's heart can beat, it would at this moment. Beating so hard that you could think someone could hear it without getting so close.

It didn't take long for the man to look at M/N who looked away instantly, not baring to look at his eyes.

The flame hair man felt a familiar yet unfamiliar feeling he got from the (H/C) hair man.

It was like he knew him, but he is complete stranger.

"I'm Kyojuro Rengoku!" He introduced himself, waiting for the man to introduce himself.

M/N finally got the courage to look at Kyojuro who was already looking at him. M/N felt the familiar and sickly feeling of love again after over 100 years of grief.

"I'm..I'm M/N L/N."

Kyojuro smiles, flashing a smile that M/N so dearly missed.

"S-so, do you want to get coffee sometime?" M/N blurted out as he mentality slapped himself.

Kyojuro gently chuckles, noticing the attempt that M/N tried to do.

"I wouldn't mind! Do you want to exchange numbers or..?"

"Oh-! Yes!" M/N said, pulling out his phone as Kyojuro also pulled out his.

"Look at that! Two of my best friends meeting!" A loud flamboyant like voice boomed in the museum as the owner of the voice came to the two.

"I see you know Tengen too!" Kyojuro says as M/N nods.

"Yes, I do! I know him lil' too much to know that fact that he has mice-"

"Shut up!" Tengen yells, making the other two men laugh.

"I have to go, but text me or don't be afraid to call about that coffee!" Kyojuro says, making M/N nod in agreement.

Kyojuro went his way, waving goodbye at the two before taking off.

"Look at you! M/N L/N going on a date, but the date idea is so unflamboyant of you that my mice have better date ideas-"

"Shut up or I will become your wives' new husband." M/N fake smiled and then leaving Tengen behind.

"WHAT!"

M/N stared at the cure that Lady Tamayo made before she died. The cure that makes a demon into human again.

This is M/N's chance to restart his life with Kyojuro, living as humans and finally growing old together.

The same incident with the sickness that killed Kyojuro wouldn't happen again because medicine had upgraded since 1912.

Hearing his phone alerting him that he got a text message, he broke eye contact with the cure and looked on his phone, seeing that it was from Kyojuro.

Kyo :

Tomorrow? At the new cat café? Cats can be a good ice breaker! :)

Yes! Definitely, meet you there?

Kyo :

Yes, I'll see you there!

:)))

I want to make this into a book (5am Thought)

#demon slayer x male reader #dom male reader #seme male reader #top male reader #x male reader #angst with a happy ending #demon slayer #kimetsu kyojuro #kny kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku #mature #male reader #wattpad #rengoku my beloved

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yelenasdiary · 1 year

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Hi, just resending a request idea I had for Florence where the reader has their tonsils removed and Florence is taking care of them, and also uses it as an opportunity to try some new Cooking with Flo recipes that the reader could eat while they are recovering. Soup, ice cream, etc. Florence is constantly reminding the reader not to speak, and gives them a white board to communicate, but the reader just uses it to draw little doodles for Florence. 🥰😅

Sweet Honeycomb

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Reader

Summary: Florence takes care of you after you’ve had your tonsils removed, even doing a little special cooking with Flo to make you smile.

Fluff | No Warnings | 1.1K |

AC: I decided to combine two requests that are similar, I hope that’s okay!! Xx

Florence sat by your bedside as you began to wake up from the anesthesia, she smiled softly at your tired state before she buzzed for a nurse to come check on you. A few hours ago, you had your tonsils removed. An hour's surgery and a few hours rest in hospital before the nurses and doctors were confident to send you home. Flo was given a list of things that you could eat, things to avoid doing and a script for pain killers that were to be taken when necessary.

You slept in the car on the way home, your body unable to stay awake for any more than 30 minutes as the anesthesia began to wear off. Once home, Florence made sure you were comfy in bed before she got you bottled water and your pain killers within arm's reach.

"Get some rest darling, I'm just going to be downstairs if you need anything" Florence smiled softly once more before placing a kiss on your forehead.

"Th-"

"Uh, Uh darling. No talking, you heard the doctors" she interrupted you, "I got you a mini white board for this reason, I'll go get it" she added before leaving the room for a few moments. Florence placed the small whiteboard with colored markers next to you, "if you need to talk, just write it down, okay?" she looked at you as you nodded slightly before grabbing the whiteboard and the blue marker.

"Thank you, baby" you wrote down then turned to it to face Florence. "You're welcome my love" she smiled, "get some rest".

While you caught up on some rest, Florence decided to try her luck and cook some of the foods you'd be able to eat. She knew how much you loved honeycomb ice cream but knew you wouldn't be able to eat it due to the honeycomb pieces throughout the ice cream, so, she decided to make her own homemade ice cream for you! Using honeycomb syrup for that flavor you loved so much. Of course, she was doing all this while keeping herself company with a special Cooking with Flo! She explained why and what she was making and even to her fan's surprise, she went live instead of using her stories for the popular trend.

"While the ice cream is doing its thing, let's make some mashed sweet potato and pumpkin! I'm going to use the leftover pumpkin that we didn't use in the roast dinner we had a few nights ago and of course, there three beauties were grown in my own garden!" She held up the 3 sweet potatoes to the camera with a proud smile on her face before she started to peel the skin.

You could hear Florence talking to herself downstairs and instantly knew she was doing another Cooking with Flo. You grabbed your trusty whiteboard and blue marker before getting out of bed and making your way downstairs. "Hi honey, you're awake!" Florence looked up and smiled at you, "I was just making you some mashed sweet potato and pumpkin for dinner" she added as she chopped up the pumpkin.

"That sounds so good! Do we still have any yoghurt left?" your message on the whiteboard read. "We should, I'll get some for you" Florence smiled as she finished up with the pumpkin.

----

The rest of the afternoon you spent watching Florence cook the mashed sweet potato and the ice cream which you couldn't wait to dive into! "Awh! You gave Billie a little tutu!!" Flo coo'd at your little doodles of Billie. As much as Florence tried to keep her focus on cooking and giving her viewers some attention, it was hard for her to ignore you and how cute you looked sitting behind her phone unable to speak. Anytime you tried to speak she would hush you and point to the whiteboard as a reminder.

"Baby, come say Hi to all these jammy, jammy tarts!" Flo looked up at you as she checked the ice cream. It wasn't often that fans would see the two of you together but always loved it when you were. You grabbed your whiteboard and wrote "Hello" with pretty little doodles before walking in front of the camera and smiling as you showed the viewers your little greeting. The comment section went crazy with so many comments causing you to chuckle.

"Guys!! Don't make my baby laugh, they are meant to make as little noise as possible" Florence playfully shook her head at the camera as she came up behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist. "You're stealing the show darling" she added with a kiss on your cheek as you smiled softly and lent into her hold as you wrote on the whiteboard again.

"I love you, thank you for looking after me honey!" you wrote. Florence smiled instantly, "I love you too my darling" she replied and kissed your cheek once again. The comments on the live were blowing up as Florence kept you in her arms and began to sway left to right slightly as you both read the comments you could. You draw more little drawings on the whiteboard which leads to Flo into a laughing fit. You did your best not to laugh but a few chuckles slipped out.

After a few more moments Florence said her goodbyes to her viewers before shutting off the live stream and putting her phone in her pocket. "Are you hungry my love?" she asked you as she grabbed two bowls from the cupboard. You nodded with a pout before writing another message on your board.

"How much longer do I have to be mute for?"

Florence chuckled, "honey, it's hasn't even been a day. We'll see how you're feeling in the morning, but the doctor said you might sound a little different for at least 2-4 weeks" she replied while she served you a bowl of the mashed sweet potato and pumpkin that was mashed to zero lumps so it would be smooth enough for you to eat. You frowned at the news, "don't worry my love, it'll be fine. We'll worry about tomorrow when it comes but for now, let's go watch some TV and cuddle" she smiled as she handed you your bowl.

Even though you hated that you couldn't speak right now, you were so thankful for Florence and how she was there for you. The food was so good! It gave you no pain at all and the ice cream was even better, you had two bowls of ice cream after you were able to convince Flo that the coldness of the ice cream was a relief on your throat.

"It's going to be a long 2 weeks but I'm glad I get to spend it with you" you wrote on the white board and showed your girlfriend. "You're adorable baby, come here!" she opened her arms wide for you to crash into, which you did. There you lay, cuddled up on the sofa while Florence ran her fingers through your hair while watching TV until you drifted off to sleep not feeling any pain, not when you while you were in her arms.

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #fanfiction

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rynwritesstuff · 2 years

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i have a request, based on an hc from your last post! could you write something about getting depressed!eddie to eat more again post-vecna? thank you! <3

Anon, your request came in at the best time. I was literally sitting at my computer trying to brainstorm and I was coming up with nothing lol, so THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS IN, MWAH XOXO.

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: Refusal to eat due to depression, pep talks

Helping depressed!Eddie eat post-Vecna - Headcanons

(A/N: This, once again, got pretty long, but I hope you still like it, my loves! I'm off to bed, but if anyone has more requests, I'll gladly write them tomorrow!! <3)

At first you think he's just refusing to eat because he's in the hospital, and all their food tastes undercooked and bland.

You persuade him to eat a bit of fruit and drink a few sips of water the first day. The second day, he eats a fourth of the portion of mashed potatoes, then immediately says that he feels nauseous and ill.

You don't want him to vomit, and you also don't want to stress him out, so you give up on the mashed potatoes and meatloaf.

On the third day, he tells you that he's feeling sick before he even puts anything in his mouth. This worries you deeply, because oh god, what if those monsters from the Upside Down fucked up his insides? What if there's something wrong that you don't really understand? Something that the doctors can't find?

He doesn't eat on the third day.

On the fourth day, they tell Eddie that he's well enough to head home. You've gotta keep a very, very close eye on him and bring him back if there are any issues at all, but you're so fucking excited to have him back in an environment that isn't' scary or foreign to him.

"Do you want me to order you a celebratory pizza?" you ask once the two of you walk into his trailer. "Maybe some Chinese?"

Eddie shakes his head, an almost bored expression on his face.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," he says softly. "Just wanna hold you."

You push away the concern and smile before cuddling up to him in his bed.

You're careful of his wounds, not wanting to hurt him.

The two of you doze off, and when you wake up, you're startled to find that it's around midnight.

Eddie hasn't eaten in two days, now, and you're beating yourself up as you hastily prepare him some instant ramen noodles for when he wakes up.

How could you let him do this? How could you let him go this long without eating? Some partner you are.

You wake him gently, holding the bowl of ramen, and Eddie looks up at you. His face scrunches up.

"No, thanks," he says when you tell him what you've brought.

"Sorry, baby," you say, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. "It isn't an offer. You haven't eaten in days, you're scaring me."

Eddie doesn't want to scare you. He doesn't want to trigger any type of negative emotions at all, and the mere thought of causing you distress has his delicate mind spiraling.

"I'm sorry," Eddie says quietly, taking the warm bowl of noodles from your hands. He takes a small bite, then another, then another.

You smile at him, rubbing his shoulder as he eats.

"You're doing really well, Eds. I'm proud of you."

"Can I be done?" he asks once he's finished half the bowl. You sigh.

"I'd really like for you to finish them," you say. Eddie chews at his lip.

"I feel gross," he says softly.

"I'm sure you do, baby. You haven't had anything in your stomach in two days."

"I just . . . I'm not hungry. I don't wanna throw up."

You nod after a few beats of silence.

"I know you don't," you say, taking the bowl. "You can be done for tonight, baby, but I need you to eat more tomorrow, okay?"

You know this is likely due to the depression that his incident caused, and it pains you to see him like this.

Eddie nods.

"Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you want."

You kiss his temple and squeeze his hand.

"Can you drink some water?"

Eddie nods, and you bring him a glass. You're pleased with how much he drinks, and although he can't even bring himself to get up and brush his teeth for the night, you're glad he at least has some food in his system.

"We'll work on this," you tell him once you've changed into PJ's and have re-cuddled up next to him. "It'll get easier with time. I promise."

#rynwritesstuff #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie stranger things #stranger things #stranger things fandom #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson headcanons #tw: depression #tw: food

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hedgiwithapen · 7 months

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MAWS AU - the Kryptonite sphere does not get brought to Thanksgiving and the ship doesn't activate. All the drama is interpersonal :)

(obviously: set during the Hearts of the Fathers, spoilers ahoy) The kitchen smelled wonderful, the roasting turkey, the hot honeybutter rolls, James's yams with marshmallows, potatoes with enough herbs for all of scarborough fair. Martha had prided herself on a cozy kitchen, a welcoming home.

"What do you mean, an enemy?" Martha Kent interrupted her husband's good natured advice to their son. Her Clark did not call people enemies. Oh, they'd taught him well, he tried to see the best in people like Jonathan, but he also knew to believe people when they showed him who they were. When he'd come home in second grade with blood on his shirt sleeve from a fight, he'd been honest about it-- bullies. When he'd lost a chess match in the finals to a cheater, Clark had used words like 'opponent.'

"Um," Clark said. Ma thought about what she'd read in the article, about that Mr. Ivo and his attack on Metropolis.

"Clark. Who's the enemy?"

"I..."

"Ma, really, you don't--"

"I don't what?" she asked. "Clark. What happened?" she reached up to put a hand on his cheek, tilting his face down so she could see him. His eyes had a haunted look in them. Someone had scared her baby.

"I didn't want to worry you," he said. "General Lane..."

"He's not the nicest man," Ma started to say, out of a sense of hospitality. Lois's father was, after all, a guest. "Clark. Is this just that he's made Lois feel bad? Tell me the truth."

"No," Clark said. "I...I didn't know he was her dad. He--"

"What did he do?" Ma said, a chill like the worst of winter icing her words.

"He caught me," Clark said, looking down. Not at her. At his wrists, like he expected something other than skin and shirtsleeves and Jonathan's best cufflinks to be there. "He said I was responsible, all those people who died...that I'm an invader." The words spilled out of her baby's mouth, the same way they had when he'd talked about needing to quit the football team, like his pain wasn't worth anything.

"Oh," Ma said, quietly. "Oh, Clark. Oh, don't you worry, honey. You stay right here. I'll take care of this."

"Martha," Jonathan said warningly, knowing enough about his wife that the turkey was no longer the priority.

Ma ignored him, reaching up on her tiptoes to take down her grandmother's cast iron skillet. It had always served her family well, no matter what purpose it was needed for.. "Jon, you stay with Clark. I'm not having that man eat at our table."

"Ma, no!" Clark protested. The kitchen door started to open.

"Clark. You may have all those powers, but I am your mother. That man tried to kill you." Ma insisted.

"Hey, I'm just grabbing the--what." Jimmy stared. "Uh. Mrs. Kent?"

"James," she said, smiling. " You can take the yams out in a minute, dear. I need to settle something with our intruder."

"Indrude--ma, no!" Clark followed her, his long strides a match for three of hers, but she still reached the living room first.

"Get out of my house," Ma said to the General, interrupting whatever silent, awkward conversation had been happening between him and Lois.

"Excuse me?" he said, standing, automatically shifting his feet. Ma narrowed her eyes. She knew a defensive stance when she saw one.

"Lois, honey, you can stay. But he's not welcome."

"What's going on?" Lois asked. "Clark?" The look on his face caught her breath. "Clark?"

"The General," Clark said, hollowly. "Lois, please tell me you didn't know."

"Know wha--"Lois looked green as she registered the Important Capitals. "Oh, oh my god. Dad. Tell me you didn't."

"Didn't what? Lois, what is this?" The General looked almost bewildered. Ma wasn't sure if it made her angrier that he might be pretending not to know what he'd done, or if he was really so blind that it didn't matter. She was angry all the same. “Tell me you didn’t kidnap and try to murder my boyfriend!” Lois exploded. Ma felt a rush of kinship with the girl. She could stay as long as she liked.

"You're the one who kidnapped Superman? And attacked Cadmus?" Jimmy finally pieced it together.

"How do you know about any of that?" The General asked, eyes still on the threat.

Ma gripped the skillet by the handle, forcing his attention back to her, taking two deliberate steps to place herself between her son and the couch where a monster in uniform -metaphorical uniform, anyways, though not metaphorically a monster- stood. "General, It’s best you leave now. If you come near any of my children again, so help me, the pigs down at the Anderson's get mighty hungry in winter. Now git."

#dammit hedgi day 2023 #my adventures with superman #Sam Lane #Ma Kent #long ago Ma's ancestress met Miri the paladin that fryingpan is fucking magic #that's not relevent i just think u should know

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masterwords · 8 months

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it's here in the ashes

Summary: Sam Cooper was many things. He was an exemplary leader, an intuitive field agent, a brilliant mind. He was a calm presence amid a raging storm, someone who always knew what to say and when to say it...but more importantly, when to keep quiet. He was many things, but if you asked Hotch he’d probably just say that Sam Cooper was a great friend. This is just a snapshot of that friendship. (Coda to 5x01, my usual haunting ground)

Pairing: None (but you could say Hotch/Morgan...it's heavily implied but not explicitly said, basically just like canon)

Words: 5.6k

Warnings: religious (christian) overtones, church, stab wounds, medication, pain (post foyet stabbing y'know y'know)

Notes: I've wanted to write more about Hotch & Sam's friendship. Sam, if you don't remember, is from 5x18 - The Fight and the Unit Chief of the Red Cell team in the spinoff Suspect Behavior. I'll probably start a whole series dedicated to all these one-off characters that are so beloved to me so they're all in one place. Hotch needs friends, yo. And anyway, he's so cute with Cooper that I really need to explore more of that.

No one came to see him after he was released from the hospital.

The team were busy, they sent texts and more than once take-out meals so he didn’t have to cook, but no one came by. He knew it probably had a lot more to do with him than them. He could picture Garcia worrying herself sick over whether to pop by to check on him or bring him a plate of cookies, and he could picture Dave telling her to do what she thought was best. Well, that resulted in a lot of well meaning texts and nothing more.

He was fine with that, too. He didn’t particularly want company. Didn’t much feel like conversation, like being under the watchful eye, like being pitied.

Jessica was coming by, out of some strict (and utterly insane if you asked Hotch) sense of duty more than anything. She was angry at him for sure, angry and indignant but she helped him change his bandages and made sure he took his medications. “For Jack,” she muttered when he asked her one particularly bad night why she insisted on showing up every single day when he knew she didn’t want to be there. When he knew she had better things to do. Her neighbor was feeding her cat so she could clean up wounds on a man she could barely stand to look at. “Because he’s going to need a dad to come home to. Now swallow the damn pill and go to sleep.”

Her anger lasted about a week. She never had managed to focus on one thing for very long – her fire burned hot and fast. She’d picked him up from the hospital and brought him home, and for that whole week she was frustrated and short with him, asking him why he didn’t just call his mother or Sean to come and help because he was more or less incapable of just about every activity of daily living. He stubbornly maintained he could do it on his own, and for what it was worth, he did. Not well, and he definitely shouldn’t have been doing any of it, but he didn’t see as he had much choice in the matter. She knew it too, and that fact alone kept her coming back to check, afraid one day she’d show up and find him face down on the floor bleeding out. So, it was a week of burning anger and then slowly it melted into something not so hot. Not so sharp. She began sitting with him for an hour, turning on the TV or cleaning his bathroom, asking how he was feeling with more than just a clinical interest. Remembering that she did love him too, in spite of his rampant stupidity. In spite of his...well everything about him.

But he didn’t seem to make any real progress toward rejoining the living until Sam Cooper showed up on his doorstep.

“Hi,” he said, extending his hand to Jessica with the bright smile of someone who sleeps and eats and works out at regular, healthy intervals. Something foreign at the moment to both she and Hotch who had more or less become couch potatoes. She was eating enough for two (there were a lot of feelings to be stuffed into a bowl of cereal that quickly became two bowls at 10pm whens he couldn’t sleep), he wasn’t eating at all (meds and pain and stubborn refusal to do anything that resembled living). It wasn’t a great situation. “I’m Sam, a friend from work.”

“Sam Cooper,” she said with a tired smile. “I’ve heard stories. I’m Jessica.”

“Right. Ex-wife’s sister?”

“That’s the one. Do you need something from him? He’s asleep right now.”

Sam smiled again and shrugged. He carried himself with such a laid back swagger that she couldn’t help the way her own shoulders loosened in his presence. “Nah. I just wanted to check up on him. Thought I’d give it a week or so for him to be home before I came knocking. He can be a little skittish.”

“Oh, yeah, well...why don’t you come in? I’m sure he’d love to see you. Or anyone really that isn’t me barking at him.”

“Has he had many visitors?”

“Well counting you and me...two.”

Sam nodded and clasped his hands behind his back, fingers gently pulling at the prayer beads he kept around his wrist as he took in the apartment. He’d been here more than once, helped Hotch move a few boxes here and there. More to check up on him, support him through his time of need than actual help – he’d had movers do most of the heavy lifting. Ultimately the place didn’t look much different but it felt different. It felt wrong. He could see Foyet there by the washer, feel his presence as he got to know the intimate details of Hotch’s place while he was away...how long was he here? Did he leave anything behind?

The apartment smelled stale but clean, closed windows and bleach. There were banker boxes piled up where he supposed a china hutch or some nice piece of furniture might look better, and there were case files covering a table that was more for show than for eating. He thought about Jack, wondered if he might find some renegade legos stashed beneath the couch or a crayon on a bookshelf. He wondered if Foyet went into Jack’s room, if he dug through Hotch’s entire life while he was away.

“That’s about what I expected,” he said finally, as if coming out of a long trance.

“Really? I honestly thought that his team would be here all the time. The way he is about them, you know? That they’d be hanging around and getting him to work and…”

“I talked to Agent Morgan this morning before I made the decision to come by. He said he’s been texting with Hotch every day but he’s afraid of opening up too many lines of communication because Hotch needs to rest and heal, and his instinct is always to pour himself into work as quickly as possible.”

“So they’re protecting him from himself by not coming? Is that what they think they’re doing?” She couldn’t mask her disgust. He gave up his marriage for them and they couldn’t even bother stopping by to check on him.

“I said that’s what Morgan said. I don’t know about the rest of them, don’t really know ‘em. Morgan comes and works out in my gym every day. How is he?”

“Well. He’s lonely and grouchy. In a lot of pain and pretty angry about it.”

“How long have you been here?”

“All morning. I practically live here now.”

Sam continued his pass through inspection of Hotch’s place and frowned at the spot on the carpet that was covered by an out of place looking rug. Jessica wouldn’t look at it. “That’s where...I guess they couldn’t get the stain out…I brought a rug from my place. I know it’s stupid, putting that there. It’s a bath mat, it looks silly it’s just…they said it would be a couple of weeks before they could get someone out to replace that spot with new carpet.”

“You should go, take some time to yourself. Have some lunch, a nap, something. I’ll handle him when he wakes up.”

She scrunched her nose and he had the distinct impression that she’d known Hotch a long time, a very long time, and through her aloof exterior she cared very much and maybe didn’t want to leave. She was protective of him, that was for sure.

“If you want,” he followed it up with a cautious smile. “I only want to help.”

That made her features soften into a halfway smile. “I could use a shower.”

Sam busied himself by putting away all of Hotch’s case files, clearing off his table. It was a task Jessica had mentioned wanting to do but not knowing where to start. “I think he just leaves them there because they make him feel something. He doesn’t do anything with them. I covered a few up because the pictures were…” she shook her head in disbelief. “I covered them up. That probably makes me a terrible person.”

“You said they’re going to be a couple of weeks on the carpet replacement?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t let him come out here and see that every day. And I know it sounds stupid because they cleaned it really well but if I can see it...I feel like I can smell it.”

“Doesn’t sound stupid. I can smell it. I’m going to make some calls, we can get that taken care of.”

“They said that it got into the sub floor and all of the padding, the whole thing has to be replaced. He was there...it was…”

“I understand. I’ll take care of it.”

Sam’s presence was calming to her, and when she finally slung her purse over her shoulder and left she felt almost at peace for the first time in a week. (Had it only been a week since he’d been home from the hospital? It felt like a century, and maybe it was when you measured it in calculated breaths and medication timers and bandage changes.)

By the time Hotch was shuffling down the hallway with all the grace of a starved zombie, not the 28 Days Later kind but the long suffering Romero zombies, Sam had tidied up all of the files and moved himself on to perusing the bookshelves until he found something that was just dull enough to stare at until his friend woke. He didn’t want to get engaged in anything, he wanted something easily cast aside. Something that would hold his attention with only the lightest grip. Hotch’s book collection had plenty to offer in that regard.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Sam said with an easy smile, setting the book open-faced on his thigh. Hotch stared at him, unblinking, sleepy-eyed, pale and worn like an old bed sheet hung out to dry. He’d seen Hotch in plenty of bad situations but he’d never seen him so listless, so drained. So empty.

“Where’s Jessica?” he croaked in a voice that hadn’t been used for much more than moaning or complaining in the last few days. Jessica said he didn’t string many words together, one or two was about the limit of his conversational skills – everything else was more or less a series of whines, whimpers or grunts.

“She needed a shower. I stopped by at the perfect time I guess.”

Hotch grunted his disapproval at being blindsided by a change in caretaker and resumed his shuffle toward the kitchen. Sam watched with some intrigue, wondering how capable he was of whatever he had set out to do. He knew damn well Hotch wasn’t going to ask him to help, and truthfully he thought it was probably better if Hotch did things for himself. He suspected that Jessica was doing more than necessary, either out of fear or guilt or love it didn’t matter.

It was a glass of water he was after, and he managed after a full minute of trying to figure out the best way to raise his arm (one side was easier than the other, it turned out) and then it looked like he was going to be sick after the first drink but he continued anyway. Sam watched with interest while Hotch seemed to forget he was there momentarily, hunching over at the sink, resting one hand against the ledge and dropping his head. Sam thought about stepping in, about asking if he could do anything to help, but he knew Hotch well enough to see the folly in that idea. He let Hotch come to him, instead. Slowly he made his way through the kitchen, eyes dragging with suspicion over his newly cleaned table. He didn’t like it. Sam didn’t care.

“Did you do this?” he asked, reaching out with one unsteady hand to grab hold of the back of a chair. It was as far as he could go, and he fell heavily into the seat with a barely contained groan.

“Looks like it smarts,” Sam said, ignoring Hotch’s question. He knew the answer anyway. When Hotch didn’t acknowledge his comment, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and looked at him earnestly. “I know you don’t wanna hear it, and I’d rather not have to say it but I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“I know.”

“So you pushin’ everyone away who wants to help?”

“They have better things to do. Agent Reid is also out, they’re short staffed.”

“We’re pickin’ up the slack. I’m working with Rossi and Morgan to divert your case load. We got it.”

Hotch nodded appreciatively. “Thank you. I’m hoping to return within the month.”

At that, Sam laughed. Hotch didn’t find it amusing. “What?”

“A month?! Hotch. Come on. I saw the pictures and the hospital chart – now, now, don’t get your feathers all ruffled, Rossi asked me to take the lead on your case. He didn’t want anyone from the team doing it, and he was adamant that an outsider shouldn’t do it. I guess you could call this a professional visit…”

“Yeah?”

“Well. In a matter of speaking.”

At that Hotch smiled. Sort of. It was just a little twitch at the corner of his mouth but it was something, probably more than he’d done in a while. It looked unnatural and stiff. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ve got something I need you to do with me. You up for a walk?”

“Do I look up for a walk?”

“You look like a ghost. You can’t haunt this place forever. You need some good old fashioned vitamin D...come on. Three blocks.”

Hotch knew where they were going, and he wanted to protest. Not for any real reason in particular, he’d been thinking of going himself. He loved it for the same reason Cooper did – it was peaceful there. Quiet. He could sit and hear himself think without the echoes and ghosts in his apartment, or he could sit and do nothing but stare up into the light refracted through brilliantly colored stained glass windows and marvel at the way that made him feel.

Small, it made him feel small. That’s what he’d tell Sam, if asked. And no, that wasn’t bad. In fact, as the world swirled around him, as his team texted him and people whose names he barely knew delivered flowers and baskets of well-wishes and foods he wouldn’t or couldn’t eat (but his neighbors would, and Jessica would) all he wanted was to feel small and insignificant again. Foyet had robbed him of many things, and right now if he could just feel small he might be able to see his way into the next day and the day after.

“You know where I’m taking you,” Cooper said, affecting a slow pace. Much slower than his usual clip, and still it wasn’t really slow enough for Hotch’s sluggish body. His bones were heavy, poured with concrete. He wasn’t really walking so much as dragging himself down the sidewalk. It was a strange lumbering walk, no real grace to it, stiff hipped and hunched at the shoulders. “You know exactly where we’re going.”

“I do,” Hotch replied, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket to hide their tremble. They shook a lot lately, maybe medication side effects, maybe nerve damage, maybe just that he was scared and hungry and sick all the time. The reason mattered very little to him anymore. It just was.

“Have you been already?”

“No.”

Cooper hummed and slowed his pace one click more, a welcome reprieve. Hotch slowed to match and took a deep breath.

Three blocks, only three blocks, but Cooper stopped and took a seat on a bench beside the bus stop a little over a block into the walk and Hotch followed. They didn’t speak while they sat, just stared across the street and watched the little coffee shop ebb and flow with the day’s patrons. Children being dragged in by their parents while they prattled about something that was very important to them and of little import to the parents on a mission for caffeine. A couple holding hands. A group of school aged girls. Some of Hotch’s neighbors, elderly couples that had formed a sort of walking group in the last few months. He’d joined them once or twice after being badgered relentlessly at the mailboxes for being a shut in. The problem, he told them, was that he spent so little time in his home that he desired the luxury of being a shut in. Still, he did need coffee so he reluctantly agreed.

After a few minutes, Cooper looked at Hotch expectantly and stood.

They made it to the church without saying another word, and Hotch stopped at the base of the steps and turned his whole face toward the sky. He stared at the steeple as it rose into the clouds, touched the heavens. He sucked in one quick breath and grabbed the railing before hoisting himself up one step at a time like he was climbing Mount Everest.

The last time he’d come, it was Easter. He had Jack’s little hand in his, it was his holiday weekend and they didn’t have a case. It wasn’t his first choice of holidays to have his son, but Haley wanted Thanksgiving and Christmas and since those are family holidays and Hotch didn’t care for spending much time in the company of his own, he’d taken Halloween and Easter. Well, that had been almost half a year before and he’d walked by these steps plenty of times and thought about coming in but he never did. There was plenty of guilt associated with that, just add it to the pile of guilt he lived with over everything else in his life.

It was creeping up on October now, and he knew in his heart that he wouldn’t get to have Halloween with his son. He might never get another holiday again – did he appreciate Easter for what it was? Maybe the last? He didn’t think so.

“Need some help?” Cooper asked when Hotch was halfway up. He shook his head and set his features with determination.

“I’ve got it.”

“Good.”

Hotch would have been content to sit in the back pew and stare silently forward, he had the best view of everything from there but Sam moved toward the front and he followed. This was Cooper’s adventure, after all. He’d done nothing but wake up and go to sleep, exist in a medicated half-life for a week now and if this was the way to regain his life...well he was willing to try it.

“It’s peaceful,” Sam said sitting down. Hotch took the seat beside him, close but not too close. Sam scooted closer to him, until their shoulders touched and he leaned himself back casually. Like this was his sofa at home and they were all set to watch the football game. “You made it.”

“Did you doubt me?”

Sam smiled. “I did, actually. You look like a man who hasn’t walked more than twenty steps in a week.”

“I am. I guess it’s like riding a bike.” He found that the smile he offered Sam wasn’t forced this time, and that lightened the tight feeling in his chest some. It was amazing the power some people held. That just Sam’s presence and faith in him, in his ability to still be the same man he was a week ago, would almost make him believe it too. Sam had always had that effect on him.

“Can I ask you a question?”

His answer was always yes, but he hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “Sure.”

“Did they ask you if you wanted to head up a Red Cell? Before they gave it to me? You were the natural choice.”

That wasn’t the question Hotch had imagined he would ask, but now it made sense. He was thinking about Foyet, about how all of this transpired and wondering if Hotch had any regrets about being so visible. About heading up the A team when he could have gone under the radar.

“They did.”

“And you said no?”

“I did.”

Sam leaned forward, fingering the prayer beads now dangling from his hands. Hotch watched in a sort of trance, the way his thumbs moved over the beads was rhythmic and enthralling. Hypnotic.

“Why? You like the red tape or what?”

He was in a church, and as such, he felt compelled not to let a lie dance on his tongue. Not to entertain those types of thoughts. Sam deserved his honesty. “I need rules. I need the red tape, even if I mean to fight against it sometimes. I need checks and balances. Sometimes I’m afraid of what might happen if I don’t have them.”

Sam could respect that answer, but then, he found it wasn’t hard to respect most of the things Hotch said or did. He needed rules because he feared his own darkness, and knowing what he did about Hotch’s past it made sense to him. Still, knowing Hotch as well as he did, he expected that he’d do just fine without the red tape...he didn’t trust himself, but he should.

“Do you regret it?”

“You mean do I regret it now that I’ve been victimized by the very thing I just said I needed?” That had been on Hotch’s mind. The rules. Arrest Foyet for what he did, make it right. Do what Shaugnessey didn’t, you hunt him and you catch him. But then...how long did that last? And was playing by those rules just playing into Foyet’s hand? This cycle was endless and it was killing him slowly, seeping from him what little sleep his exhausted body would allow him. And now he waited to see if Foyet killed again, and worse, who it was if he did. He was watching, Hotch knew that much. So was the FBI, he knew that too. There was a car parked on his block 24/7 with some poor low level Agent sent on an endless mission to stare at his apartment building as if Foyet would come back there. And were he and Cooper followed down here to the church? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe Cooper cleared this whole adventure before even showing up.

“Not exactly, but sure. That’s where your mind went, I’d love to follow that rabbit down the hole. Assume I mean it that way. Do you regret it?”

“I hadn’t really considered it. Truth be told, I haven’t thought about much except that night.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Absolutely not.”

Sam laughed. He did so with his whole body. “Fair enough. Morgan said you weren’t talking to anyone about it. But you know, you will have to talk to me about some of it...at some point. I am the official Case Agent.”

“How much have you spoken with Morgan?”

“Everything I just said and that’s what you take from it? Are you jealous?”

Hotch frowned, not sure how to answer that. Especially in a church with a man holding prayer beads. He trusted Sam Cooper implicitly, but his stomach lurched painfully.

“I’m teasing,” Sam said, as if Hotch didn’t catch that part. “He comes by my office every day. He’s struggling, Hotch.”

“Comes by your office for what?”

Sam definitely detected a hint of something in Hotch’s voice that sounded like jealousy. Not the kind that holds hands with suspicion or anger, just the kind that makes bedroom eyes at hope and despair.

“He’s coming to work out. To blow off steam. I’ve been training him in Kali, if you must know. He needs an outlet.”

Hotch smiled at that. “Better him than me.”

“You’re next.”

“I’m not cleared for strenuous activity or lifting more than 5lbs for at least the next three weeks...sorry.”

“I’ll mark it on my calendar. You need to double down on your hand to hand training.”

That didn’t sit well with Hotch and Sam could tell he’d crossed a line, if only unintentionally. He hadn’t lost the battle with Foyet because he couldn’t fight hand to hand, Foyet had the element of surprise and a gunshot that deafened and disoriented him. He had it all planned out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you could have done anything to prevent what happened. The man was in your home waiting for you, there was nothing more you could have done than what you did. You stayed alive.”

A woman’s voice echoed from somewhere above them, and then a man’s voice followed. Nothing more than sound waves bouncing off of statues and stained glass, not real words, but Hotch’s attention was drawn to the origin of the sound and he felt the hot sting of tears welling up in his eyes. Sam placed one hand on Hotch’s shoulder and the prayer beads fell against his chest, making a small wooden rattling sound that he felt deep in his bones.

“You stayed alive, Aaron. Maybe that’s why I brought you here. I nearly lost a friend, and I’m eternally grateful that I didn’t.”

“Why?” Hotch rasped around the thick feeling of emotion choking him. Why did Foyet want to keep him alive? Why had Foyet chosen him? There were no answers he could find in any of those files. Nothing he could use to make sense of what happened – what Foyet did to him, the parts that were in the file and the parts that wouldn’t be. The parts he remembered and the parts he didn’t.

“That information is above my pay grade, I’m afraid.”

“Has Strauss said anything to you?”

“You know she doesn’t want anything to do with me, not since the Director said my team reports directly to him. She felt slighted and I don’t blame her but I sure am glad. She asked me to help your team out. That’s about where it ended.”

“I think she’s hoping I won’t return. That I won’t pass a physical.”

Sam hummed and stood, beckoning for Hotch to follow him back out into the sunlight. “You’ll pass. I’ll make sure of it. I just need you to do something for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Call Morgan.”

Hotch looked at the stairs and grunted, reaching out for the railing. It was hot, the sun had baked it in the time they were inside and it burned against his palm as his fingers curled around it.

“For what?”

“Check up on him. Ask him how things are going. Ask him to meet you for dinner at that restaurant you both like, the little pho place across town.”

“I’m not cleared to drive.” It was a pitiful excuse, weak and lacking all feeling. He would drive if he had to.

Sam took Hotch’s arm and helped him down the long bank of stairs, much harder to maneuver down when he was tired than it had been to get up. His legs felt like jelly and more than once he nearly tripped.

“Then invite him to your place for dinner. Surely you can order a pizza. Or are you just opposed to seeing him?”

“I’m not...opposed...I’m just…”

Sam stopped and turned Hotch toward him. Anyone looking from the street might get the wrong idea. It would be easily read as a moment from a Hallmark romance.

“You need him, and he needs you. If you think that his opinion of you has somehow changed because of what happened, I’d say you’re not giving him enough credit.”

Hotch didn’t have a response to that, but the look on Sam’s face and the way he continued to lead him down the stairs and back to the apartment told Hotch it wasn’t necessary. It was food for thought, not a set up for an argument. His beads were in his pocket now, the outline could be seen against the denim, and Hotch noticed that Sam checked his watch. It was the third or fourth time he’d done that since they sat in the pews. He’d noted it as odd, but his mind was too hazy to focus for any length of time on small details like that. Now he was suspicious.

“Are you late for something?” Hotch asked, staring ahead at his building as it loomed. Grew closer, larger, the thought of his couch and his bed growing in strength. His legs burned like he’d run a marathon. It was amazing how quickly physical status changed, how fast he could go from peak performance to broken.

“Right on schedule,” he said, slowing his pace a little and smiling. Hotch didn’t trust it. Something was happening. Something outside of his control, just like everything else lately.

Sam held the door of the building open to him, and Hotch entered with some apprehension. Something was waiting for him and he didn’t know what but he didn’t enjoy surprises. And Sam knew that. It didn’t seem to matter.

The door wasn’t locked. Hotch frowned. He knew he’d locked it on the way out.

“Trust me,” Sam said, nudging the door open. Hotch just stared at him, wondering what was going on and not liking anything his mind came up with. “I asked Jessica to come back to let a friend in. Don’t worry.”

Don’t worry. His apartment was broken into just a short time ago, a blink of an eye, and Sam says don’t worry. Hotch found he had a few issues with that statement, but Sam smiled at him and he had no choice but to try.

It was Derek, Hotch knew it right away. Before he saw him. The minute he stepped into the doorway he could smell Derek’s cologne.

Derek was in his apartment, on his hands and knees, smoothing out the last of a piece of carpet with a seam roller. The stained piece was lying nearby along with the discarded pad, the last real physical reminder of what happened that could be removed and replaced. The rest Hotch would carry with him forever as a part of him, there was no seam roller that could smooth the edges of Foyet’s masterpiece. Hotch stopped short and found it hard to breathe at the sight. Sam just nudged him inside so he could shut the door before helping him to the couch. It was clear that the day’s outing had exhausted him, a sad thing to witness in a man who was previously fit enough to give just about anyone a run for their money. One night, one man’s evil and it was all undone. For how long, Sam didn’t know. Couldn’t tell. One minute Hotch seemed motivated to bounce back and the next he seemed too far gone. Still, he had faith.

And that faith started here, with Derek. That’s all Sam knew for certain. These two, they’d always been tied together. Hotch was Hotch and Derek was Derek, but when they were together they were unstoppable. Derek would make Hotch want to come back, that was the simple truth.

“I ordered you a pizza, it’ll be here in twenty minutes. Let me take that to the dumpster on my way out.” Sam indicated the stained carpet remnants eagerly. Derek balked but eventually decided to hand it to him, brushing his hands on the thighs of his paint stained jeans when it was out of his hands. Like he was wiping Hotch’s blood from his palms. “Hope you like Vito’s.”

“Rossi would kill you for ordering from them.”

Sam laughed and nodded. “I suppose that’s true. He can come by my office if he has a problem with my pizza choices. He knows where to find me.” Slowly, Sam turned to look at Hotch who was solemn on the couch. Trying to reawaken himself or settle himself, it was hard to tell. “You too. Three weeks, it’s on my calendar.”

“How’s it look?” Derek asked, the first thing he’d said to Hotch since they showed. He was looking pointedly at Hotch, and in that moment Sam decided to slip out silently. Hotch noticed but turned to look at the carpet, knowing Sam would rather not have any fuss about him leaving. His work was done, but they both knew he’d be back. Probably a lot. He was the Case Agent, after all. Hotch’s return to duty was securely in his hands.

“It looks…” he said quietly, searching for the word. He didn’t have one. Maybe one didn’t exist. Was there a word in the English language (or any really) that said what he felt looking at that spot and knowing what had happened there but not having to see it anymore? “Thank you.”

Derek grinned and nodded, beginning to pick up the tools he’d set all around his workspace. They hit the old metal toolbox, the top engraved with the initials HM, with a crash. Metal on metal as he tossed them into place – he’d organize it all later. Right now, he had to clean up. They had pizza coming, and he was about three days overdue for sleep, but he was here in Hotch’s apartment and that was exactly where he wanted to be. Where he needed to be.

“I’ll take it.” He kicked the toolbox out of the way and admired his work for a moment before letting out a contented little sigh. “I’m gonna go hop in the shower. I’ll be out before the pizza gets here.”

“Derek?” Hotch whispered, clamping his hands over his knees. He made eye contact with Derek and held it earnestly. “Thank you for coming.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. There was pizza involved and I didn’t have to cook or buy. Easy decision.” He paused after grabbing his go bag, filled with something clean to wear and toiletries, and smiled. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.”

#aaron hotchner #sam cooper #derek morgan #criminal minds #hotchgan #criminal minds fanfiction #jessica brooks

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sasusakucoded · 9 months

Text

Sarada became more confident with her two-tomoe sharingan. Thus, she asked her Papa to train her again to further her development.

Sasuke: So, a variation of chidori, you're saying?

Sarada: Yes, Papa. I want to create my own version since I don't use a sword.

Sasuke: Right. However, I think you can only create one when you're in extreme situations. So, I suggest we make your chidori stronger then you can start from there.

Sarada: Sounds good, Papa!

Sasuke: Okay, watch how I do mine. Focus on the damage and the scope of this attack.

The two practiced all morning. Sarada was not satisfied with her attacks. She thought she could improve it better if they would continue the training until afternoon.

Sarada: Papa, please. You'll leave again so nobody will train me like this.

Sasuke: Okay, but let's eat lunch first. Also, I see you flinching. Are you okay?

Sarada: Yeah, my stomach hurts a bit. Nothing to worry, Papa.

Sasuke: Maybe you're just hungry. Let's go.

They sat on the nearby rock and had their lunch. Sarada was very chatty as usual but Sasuke couldn't help but worry about her stomach ache, especially when she leaned down to hold her stomach.

Sasuke: Are you sure you're alright? We can do this another—

Sarada: Papa.. *pouts*

Sasuke: Don't make that face. I'm just worried.

Sarada: I know.. And I told you I'm okay.

Sasuke: Fine.

---

Sasuke: This time, focus on one target. You see that boulder? Hit that.

Sarada was about to hit the target when Sasuke noticed something.

Sasuke: Sarada! *frantic*

Next thing Sarada knew, her Papa was carrying her like a sack of potato.

Sasuke: Wh-what is this? Why is there blood?

Sarada: *starts to panic* What? Papa?

Sasuke: There's blood in your behind.. Wait is that.. *figures out*

Sarada: *starts crying* Papa! *hugs him* What should I do?

Sasuke: Hey, it's okay. It's normal..

Sarada: Papa! Will I bleed out?

Sasuke: No.. Should I call Sakura?

Sarada: Don't leave me here! *cries louder*

Sasuke: *taps her back* Don't cry.. It's okay.

Sarada: Papa, how will I go home? *sobs*

Sasuke: *takes off his cloak and puts it on Sarada* I'll carry you.

Sarada: No.. I might stain your cloak.

Sasuke: It's fine if you do. I promise we'll be home fast. Nobody will see you like this.

Sarada: Papa..

Sasuke: Come on. *motions to get on his back*

Sarada: *complies* Sorry Papa..

Sasuke: Hey nothing's really wrong.. It's normal like what I said.

---

Sarada cleaned up herself, still thinking about the wasted time that she could've used for the training. Sasuke knocked on her door to check on her.

Sasuke: Sarada, put this on your stomach. It's a hot compress.. Your mom uses this too when she has abdominal pain.

Sarada: Thank you, Papa. Sorry. It was really embarrassing..

Sasuke: It's not. Go rest now. We'll do the training once you're feeling better.

Sarada: Papa! *hugs him*

---

Sakura: So, most likely she was having dysmenorrhea when you were training..

Sasuke: Yeah

Sakura: Can't believe our daughter is now a lady. How time flies!

Sasuke: Weirdly enough, I think she became a baby again this afternoon. *laughs at the thought* I've never seen her cry like that..

Sakura: Good thing her Papa was there to help. *kisses his forehead*

Sasuke: Yeah. I missed many milestones of her life.. It's not really the milestone that I'd like to be present at but I'll take it. *laughs* She's still my baby after all.

#sasuke sarada #sasusakusara #sasusaku #sasusaku headcanon #ss headcanon #uchihas #sscoded no 80

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bad0mens · 4 months

Text

Yesterday was an emotional day for me and not in a good way.

Under the cut because I need it out.

I'm not sure what the 'inciting' incident was, or if there even was one. I think it was honestly just a build up of working retail during the holidays where I'm inundated with people who are rude and impatient and it's been getting to me. My situation at home isn't a bad one. But I constantly feel the 'quiet older middle child syndrome' as well as 'high masking autistic adult who is largely self sufficient disorder'. So I feel like in some ways, I fall through the cracks in the minds of my family. They don't feel they need to worry about me because I'm usually good at taking care of myself.

The problem arises here. In a lot of ways, especially yesterday, I felt like an after thought to my own family. Allow me to explain.

Three of the specific things that got me yesterday, and maybe they sound petty, were:

1. We drove three hours there, expecting a short event packed with lots of people but it was instead a long event packed with people and my social battery is all but dead on my off days because it has to work on my on days. I was able to keep myself mostly sane by working on fics and keeping my earplugs in because my family, especially my younger sister, is very loud. I want to spend time with my family on the holidays, but I also want to relax and be comfortable when the tense of working this time of year is finally starting to ebb.

2. There was a lot of food to go around... But only about 3 things I could actually eat. Mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, and stuffing. You may notice there is no protein or real vegetables in any of those options. I've been a vegetarian for going on 20 years. This isn't something new for my family. My mother and younger sister did the cooking and thought to make the stuffing safe for me to eat. But that was it. The worst part of this is, I also forgot to even bring myself something like that to cook, so it's really on me as well (which is a part of the problem I'll get to in a moment).

3. I had two presents to unwrap. I know how ungrateful this sounds. But it's not about the number of presents. It's really not. I got things I asked for and I am grateful for them! It's a chunk of the larger problem, though. There was lots of presentation and fun in other people's gifts. One of mine was thrown haphazardly in a bag with nothing to cover it. The other was a wrapped cardboard box with the item inside.

Normally, any of these one things by themselves is fine, but emotions were running high after a season of working retail (not to mention I got in an argument with my boomer father who started the "no one wants to work these days" that I had to shut down pretty hard").

The problem was that, even on this day about family, I was an after thought. And the problem stems from my own behavior. I'm a helper, I care about other people, I put other people first, constantly. So constantly that I almost never put myself first. So no one else thinks to either. I'm not asking to be the specialist girl at Christmas. I'm asking to feel like I'm cared about as more than a "oh shit we can't forget about--".

I don't put myself first, so why should anyone else? I brush off this behavior in myself and others as fine. I pick pieces of myself apart to try and help other people feel whole when I've never felt whole in my entire life. And the worst part, the most painful part, is that I've ultimately done this to myself.

I sat at the dinner table, feeling alien and broken and alone surrounded by my own family, simultaneously dissociating and trying not to cry. It was my college graduation all over again, when weeks before my father reminded me that art degrees were functionally useless and I was wasting my time and money after a lifetime of hearing the lie that I could be whatever I wanted to be if I worked hard enough. It was that moment all over again. But amplified. It felt like everyone was in on the joke now.

And I still played to other people's comfort. I did not cry about it no matter how increasingly painful it became until 4 hours later when I was finally at home and my older sister asked me what was wrong. And I finally said something. I told her I felt like an after thought.

But it isn't until this moment, nearly 10 hours later, that I'm realizing the truth of it.

Who's going to put me first when I never put me first? Why would anyone bother? I don't. And after what feels like a lifetime of putting other people before myself, I'm left with the fact that my family can't be blamed. I did this to myself.

#tldr had a rough Christmas emotional and still processing it #personal stuff #im not sure how to handle things going forward #but for now I'm going back to sleep so i dont have to think about it anymore #this doesnt even mention that my mother got defenseive about the number of gifts she received last year being small too #when she forgot the present i got her in what she was listing #something that i took time and care picking out and wrapping nicely #but thats beside the point i suppose

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wonderlandleighleigh · 2 years

Note

Thank you for your beautiful writing! For the Fashionable People missing scenes, could you please write about the day Midge is released from the hospital to go home (maybe Lenny’s perspective of that day??)

(Oh man thank you! So sadly, Lenny isn't around when Midge leaves the hospital. He's grappling with a lot of his own stuff, and he's just...not what he thinks Midge needs at that point, so he starts to stay away.

But he does visit her in the hospital)

"Why didn't anyone send you flowers?" Lenny asks as he looks around the hospital room. He'd expected it to be overflowing with tokens of sympathy for her. She has so many friends, and acquaintances. So much family. He had worried that his little bouquet of roses (pink, of course) would be pathetic by comparison, but her room is bare of any color, which is chilling. She's Midge. She's all color all the time.

She sighs from her bed. "Mama told people to hold off sending anything until I was home and could properly appreciate it."

"That's...insane," Lenny tells her, pulling up a chair and handing her the roses. "Here."

Midge smiles tiredly and smells them. "Thank you, Lenny."

"Yeah."

"You've been really nice about all this," she tells him. "After...after I fucked it all up."

"We don't have to do this now," he says gently. "You need rest. I'm just here to try out some new jokes on you."

"Don't make me laugh to hard, my ribs might rebreak," Midge warns him. She reaches out with her good hand, stroking his jaw lightly, her fingers ghosting over his stubble. "How are you Lenny?"

"Never mind about me," he says gently.

She looks into his eyes, and it's like through the haze of pain and painkillers and constant medical tests and whatever else she's being put through in this god-forsaken place, she knows.

She knows he used last night.

"You should get some lunch in the cafeteria," she tells him. "I hear they have excellent mashed potatoes. Very garlicky."

"I just might," he says gently. "They got you on solids yet?"

Midge shakes her head. "Mostly the IV, still. Papa snuck me a strawberry milkshake."

"Was it good?"

"Best one I ever had," she admits. "The chest pain from the cold was worth it."

Lenny grins and takes her hand, rubbing her palm with his thumb. "You know what I keep thinking about?"

"Hm?"

"I keep thinking about Miami," he confesses.

Midge smiles slowly. "That was such a good night."

"Yeah."

"I should have kissed you," she tells him. "I should have kissed you goodnight."

Lenny lifts his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

Midge nods.

"What if I kissed you right now?" he offers. He looks around, leaning back to make sure no one is coming before looking back at her with a smirk.

"Right now? I'm hideous right now," she tells him.

"You could never be hideous, Midge," Lenny says gently. "And I really want to kiss you right now."

She purses her lips, takes a breath and nods. "Okay. One kiss. One."

He smiles and leans in. "I'll take what I can get."

He does his best to keep it soft, and slow, still holding her hand, using his free one to cup her jaw. She feels warm, and there's a strange sense of relief that floods through him at the realization that she isn't frozen half to death the way she was on the night of the accident. That she can have a full conversation with him. That she can kiss him back so tenderly, like it's all she's wanted since she woke up this morning.

Maybe it is.

She breaks the kiss and takes a breath, her eyes still closed, and he can smell the flowers that are getting a little crushed between them. He pulls away and gazes at her.

"Okay there?" he asks softly.

"Mhm," Midge nods and smiles at him, her eyes finally opening. "S'nice."

He takes the flowers and puts them on the side table. "Nice enough for another one?"

"Later," she promises. "I wanna hear how you're doing."

"I'm really fine, Midge."

"You dropped weight," she tells him. "You were already skinny, Lenny."

"I'll go eat some mashed potatoes, put some more meat on my bones," he swears. "But don't worry about me, you worry about you."

"Lenny."

"I mean it."

"Lenny, the bag," she says.

He freezes, staring down at her.

"I'm not stupid," she says gently, squeezing his fingers. "Please let me help."

Fuck's sake, she's clawing back from the brink of death and ready to help him get clean.

He takes a breath, gazing at her face, open and pleading, still obviously loopy from the painkillers but present enough to know what she's saying. He meets her eyes and leans in, cupping her face in both of his hands. "Midge, listen. Are you listening?"

She nods.

"I will deal with it." His voice is gentle but seriously. "I will. Just as long as you keep getting well, I will handle this, and you don't have to worry about it. Okay?"

She takes a breath, obviously getting upset. "Lenny, no-"

"Yes," he tells her. "Yes. My shit is not gonna be what stands between you and recovery. It's not."

Midge swallows hard and nod, reaching her hand up to stroke his hair. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay," she repeats.

"Can I kiss you again?" he asks. "I know you said one, but since I'm right in your face like this, and I like your lips so much-"

She kisses him gently, and he lets his eyes drift shut, soaking in the feel of her, because he might not see her for a while.

He presses a light kiss on her nose.

"Stay a little longer?" she asks, her hand still in his hair. "Please?"

He nods, sitting back again, taking her hand again. "Yeah. I got time."

#fic #au #Fashionable People (very Blue Rooms)#tmmm #Midge/Lenny #Midge x Lenny

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babycatlix · 1 year

Text

all right, i have been in my trays for over 5 hours, with little to no soreness 😁 my bottom teeth, which are the worst part, are a little sore, but i'm expecting them to be worse over the night and over the weekend as they move with my trays.

i have 16 attachments, little buttons, on my teeth that will help them move better. i have 8 on the top and 8 on the bottom. getting them attached was fairly painless and actually the easiest part of the appointment. i also had some IPR, inter-proximal reduction (aka filing between my teeth), on my bottom teeth to make it easier for them to move. i personally did not like this part. it's supposed to be painless, but i have some sensitivity issues on my bottom teeth, so some teeth hurt a little when he was filing between them and i hated the sound of the electric file. but... the little gaps between my teeth, when my trays are out, are kind of cute 🥰

my tray change schedule is every 3-4 days, which seems a little quick to me, but i'm just the patient 🤷🏻‍♀️ from the videos i binged before my treatment the shortest time i saw was 5 days before a tray change. my tray changes are kind of unique, i have even tray days and odd tray days. each set of aligners is numbered and i change to an even tray on sundays and to an odd tray on thursdays. since i started my treatment today, thursday, i'll wear my first tray until sunday. then sunday evening i'll change to tray #2. i haven't fully decided yet if i'll change my tray during the day on sunday, but i saw a lot of ppl changing their trays at night to reduce the amount of pain. i may try changing it when i wake up, just to experiment, since i have no plans sunday, it won't matter too much if I'm in a little pain during the day 🤷🏻‍♀️

i said i was worried about eating... let me tell you, eating with the trays in is the weirdest sensation. for me, crunchy things are the weirdest so far. i can feel the crunch, but not against my teeth... it's hard to explain. and don't get me started on chewing 😂 i'm afraid to chew too hard, but i think this is something that i'll get used to over time. tonight during dinner, i basically swallowed my mashed potatoes in 2 minutes. as for my macaroni and cheese, i chewed VERY lightly (the pasta was a little softer than expected), and then swallowed. i did eat most of my food and even took home the leftovers for lunch tomorrow! i also have to be VERY careful about the temperature of my food. hot food (or water) can cause my trays to warp and not move my teeth correctly. with my mashed potatoes, i was putting a small bit on my tongue and, basically, throwing it to the back of my throat 😂 that way, the hot food didn't touch my trays at all. but i'm going to stick with cold food, like yogurt, fruits and cottage cheese for the coming week.

taking my trays out was a struggle. i know that it takes practice and i'll get better at it the more i do it. once my trays are out i floss and brush my teeth like normal and then put my trays back in. tomorrow morning though, i think i'll soak my trays bc i imagine they'll be pretty gross after sleeping in them. also... my lips are hella dry 😂 i have put on SO much chapstick in the last 5 hours.

anyway, that's my teeth update. I'm not sure if I'll get to making enough content for the coming week over the weekend, but i'll do my best! i hope you had a good week, please stay safe out there, and stay hydrated my friends! 💖

#invisalign rambles

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pbandjesse · 10 months

Text

Jess just got back to her house. I am really glad she came. And today was a lot of fun!

I slept alright. I did not want to be awake when my alarm went off but I knew Jess was in the other room waiting.

So I forced myself up. I got washed up and dressed and felt really pretty in my reception dress. I just love the way this dress fits.

We chilled on the couch once I was dressed and I tried to shake off how tired I was. I kept spacing out. Jess was ready to go though so we headed out to go to Golden West.

We got to Hamden right before 9. We parked around the corner, between two other Subaru Crosstreks which I thought was hilarious. We checked the free library and a cicada landed on me! First one I've seen this year! Jess ran away and yelled at me for touching it. But cicadas are just dumb puppies.

Breakfast was good! Jess got tacos and I got a quesadilla. I didn't like my potatoes but that was alright. I would eat half of mine and saved the rest for later. It was just nice to talk and sit together and day dream about things we hope for. My stomach was hurting a bit but I was still having fun. Jess got a latte to go and I got a cup for my diet coke.

And then we were off. To second chance.

We didn't end up buying anything but I had a blast looking. Even though it was stupid hot in there, despite their industrial fans, it was sweaty and my upset stomach wasn't helped. But there was fun stuff to see. Jess was slightly discouraged because she didn't find anything she loved but I also think that because it's real, she bought a house, it feels like there is to much pressure so it's hard to pick anything. It was still fun to look.

Once we decided we were entirely to hot we headed out. It was drizzling and that felt nice.

I decided we would go to value village.

Jess found a book right away and I found someone I used to work with at the science center. I chatted with her for a few minutes. And tried to find some dear america books but no luck. I did find a yellow shirt dress and a leather tool belt holder. Which I guessed was for an electrician and I was correct when I googled it later!

We left there and we're giggling and just having a great time. We had one more chore, getting my replacement yarn.

So we drove further into Glen Burnie to go to Michaels. Where I was able to get the black yarn and another ball of the speckled white which I had wanted. And with the coupon I had I also got some clearance items (more rainbow loom rubber bands, some hot glue sticks) and the elastic I wanted for the price of just the yarn so it's like I got it for free. Amazing.

Jess got two mugs for her new kitchen and got a giant glass pumpkin drink dispenser. Which was super cool and I'm excited to see how she uses it.

We went next door to Marshalls next. Jess would get a cute piece of Tupperware. I did not get anything but I enjoyed looking. I wanted to buy another water bottle but I did not. Growth.

We headed back to the apartment after that. Moved the stuff Jess got to her car and we brought my stuff inside. I was happy to be back in the AC. It was so stupid humid outside.

We had leftovers for lunch. And Jess showed me more of her Pinterest. I worked on figuring out how to attach the elastic I got to my doc sandals so they would have a back and it took some trial and error but it worked and I was so round of myself. I may add another strap but I really think this will help with the pain on the top of my feet.

I would also work on some knitting. And then Jess fell asleep for a little while. I left her to sleep until 330. Which was when she said she wanted to get on the road. And once she was awake she was surprised she had slept. I walked her to the car. Big hugs. And a promise that the next time I'll see her it'll be at her new house??! I'm so proud of her.

I went back upstairs. I worked on knitting. I enjoyed the ac. And not long after Jess left, James came home.

I was very happy to see them. They were being very silly. We talked for a while. I shared some things from today. And eventually James decided to go for a walk.

While they were gone I took a shower. I washed my hair twice and it was very good. But I still felt sweaty after. It took me a while to find a good temperature. And I would start working on some other projects. Trying out some sewn faces on some bears. Which I for sure don't have a handle on but I'm trying. I need a smaller embroidery hoop I think. And James would come home and would help me unpack my market box so I could refresh it and take out any old papers or things. And I fixed the part of my sign for messed up. I also moved the stickers into their new display and I'm very pleased.

James would make me nachos for dinner. And they would have their own quesadillas. It was just a chill evening.

James went to paint their nails and I kept working in the studio. I started a new knitted loom idea. I'm gonna finish the squares for my one blanket hopefully this week or next. And then I have to decide on the pattern because I'm not in love with the checked. I want it to be funkier. So maybe it'll be sections. We will see.

Now I am in bed. And ready to sleep. I am not sure if I will stay at camp tomorrow but I probably will. I am looking forward to my projects. And it's going to be a good week. I've decided.

Sleep well everyone. Take care of yourself!!

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naquey · 11 months

Text

Sense of Smell

In an omegaverse world you can smell only the things your soulmate can smell. For a long time Sebun couldn't smell anything until he ran into someone with long pink and blonde hair.

Sebun yawned and stretched out across his best friends couch. Arm draped across himself dramatically, one leg draped over the back and the other touching the floor. He'd been trying to find the right spot to get comfortable and now he finally found it.

"What are you doing in my house?" Vera asked, fox ears perking up once she hit the bottom stair to the basement.

"I got tired, got bored, still had the keys." He cracked one eye opening, anticipating where she was going to pop up in his vision.

When something brushed by his big, fluffy fox ears a shiver ran down his spine. He felt cold all over again despite how often she claimed her house was a temperate climate. Of course, and Arctic fox like her needs to be in the cold most of the time.

"Oh my god," She sighed and popped up from behind the couch. "I have a nice bear over, and I would very much prefer you not be here."

"Another Alpha?"

"This one is going to be around longer! He actually likes how cold my house is." She grinned from ear to ear.

"Okay, okay. I'll try not to let him know I was here. Last thing I want is to end up fighting your new Romeo." He got up slowly, lazily. Very much a couch potato. A lanky, bony couch potato.

"His name is Rock."

"Who the fuck confidently tells other people their name is Rock? Like- A literal rock?" He yawned again, blowing hair from his face once he shook his body awake.

"Just go already! You can crash on my couch later, unless you're already home by that time."

"Wait- Can't he smell me because you're down here?"

"I- I don't know!"

"Mannnnn, you really need to find that person who eats so much..."

"You're one to talk, now out!" She was pushing on him, trying to guide him to the basement door.

"But it's raining..."

"Not my fault you didn't bring an umbrella!"

"Ugh, fine."

Sebun left his best friends basement and immediately his ears and tail drooped, it was pouring outside and he looked like he deflated. Shaking off the excess water he puffed out his cheeks and started walking, his phone was already dead from the spam texts and calls to multiple different people because he didn't want to get caught in the rain. Carrying his tail in his hands to alleviate some of the weight.

Accidentally bumping right into someone who had a polka-dotted umbrella and desaturated blonde-pink hair he failed to notice that he could smell things. He always thought the rain smelt bad so he didn't even notice, he didn't bother noticing. It was the least of his worries right now, being caught while it was pouring buckets was sure to make him sick.

Then he realized he was walking the wrong way to his apartment building.

It took him a while to get home, a really long while. Shivering from the cold and feeling heavy even after ringing out his tail the water dripped off of him as he waited impatiently for the elevator. If the weather wasn't absolute dog shit he would take the stairs and be there faster but his bones did not want to move. Sebun was already in immense pain thanks to a flare up that morning but the rain made it even worse, and walking home was the cherry on top.

Out of nowhere he could smell the cleaning chemicals used in the building, and the slightest hint of wet dog. Looking around panicked there was no one there with him in the lobby. Why would he be able to smell things now? That wasn't something to worry about, not catching a cold is his first priority. He shook his head as if he was shaking the question away with the water in his hair. It clung to his face in large sticky strands that weren't quite uncomfortable but at least were foreign feeling.

The wet dog smell got stronger when the elevator alerted him. Jumping out of his skin at the sound after being stuck in his thoughts. Shuffling into the elevator he paid no mind to the other person in there with him, he never paid attention to the people living with him anyway. It wasn't that he wasn't the friendliest but half the time he could just get the vibe no one wanted to talk to him. It was understandable. He was scary, he looked scary on top of being an Alpha, but hey, punk fashion looks awesome.

"It's really pouring now, isn't it?"

The smell of wet dog bothered him more than someone talking surprised him.

"I'd be lucky if I didn't get sick."

"Hey, I know you! You're that scary Alpha that lives down the hall, everyone talks about you!"

"Gee, great to know I'm famous." Sebun deadpanned.

"Sorry, I mostly hear good things about you. My friend Nico actually looks up to you, honestly."

"That little green pup who had a problem with some kids at school?"

"Yeah!"

"And you're friends with him? How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"...I mean, as long as you're friends with him," Sebun shrugged. "You can call me Sebun."

"Uno."

"Ah, the beta gambler who has his fair share of suitors."

"Hey! I don't bring that many people over."

"Dude, you at least bring over a couple people each day and they leave the next morning do that walk of shame after a bender." Sebun crossed his arms over his chest. "You bring over a lot of people."

"Why do you care?" Uno tilted his head, he looked so innocent and confused.

He'd be interested in flustering him and getting under his skin but he groaned and pinched his nose shut.

"God! Whoever smells like wet dog is going to kill me."

"Oh hoh hoh! I don't think I'm the only one sleeping around," Uno snickered, grinning mischievously. Sniffing the air a couple times to taunt the Alpha. "I don't smell anything, actually."

"I'm going to kill you."

"Wouldn't mind mixing pleasure with pain." Now, Uno really was taunting him.

"Although, I do see your type is mostly tall and scary. I'm not wrong, am I?" Sebun grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

"What- No! I don't have a type and it is definitely not tall and scary."

"Awe, are you sure?"

He faked a frown, laughing at Uno's bright red face. Once the elevator stopped on their floor he stepped out first. Ears and tails just barely dry he sneezed and rubbed at his nose.

"Damn it..."

"Hey, uhh, you can dry off at my place. If you don't mind the company."

"Dry off and nothing else?"

"Well, I mean... No! I just met you." Uno planted his hands on his hips.

"I know. Just asking, can never tell with you."

Chuckling and rolling his eyes he shook his body again, spraying water everywhere in the vicinity. Uno flinched away, making a face of disgust. He bit his tongue to keep himself from hissing at the water that touched his skin. His cat ears flattened against his head and his hood fell off.

"I think I'll pass, I'm not the type of guy to shower at a strangers house."

"Yeah, yeah... That makes sense."

"Night, hope I see you around."

See each other they did, not because they were in the same apartment building but because Uno made it a habit to at least hang around Sebun as much as he could. There was something about the tall punk that felt like a puzzle piece he was missing.

Then Vera and Rock had the best idea yet to date, a double date. Except neither of them Uno and Sebun that the other was going to be there. Sebun dressed up pretty well and tried to blend in easily, hoping to at least make a good impression with his blind date. He wasn't into the whole dating idea because maybe he didn't have a soulmate? Not having someone out there for him was a fact he made peace with long ago.

Vera could sense his nervousness.

"It's going to be okay, not like you've never done this before. Right?" She cut her bread open, spreading the little butter on it.

"I've never actually been on a date before, you know this." He was rigid, normally when they went out to eat he would take the bread.

"You've never been on a date? Dude..." Rock was busy eating the bread rolls without the butter, it was like his stomach was an empty void.

"You have no right to judge me." His tone was a warning, not the best around other Alpha's even if they weren't threatening.

"No one is judging you, actually, we're really glad to be on your first date!" She elbowed Rock in the side.

"Uno?" Sebun questioned.

"Oh, Sebun! Is anyone wearing floral perfume? Cause I can smell that..." Uno sat down next to Sebun, sniffing the air again to make sure he could smell something.

"You can smell something?" Sebun was forcing the small smile on his face.

"Oh, no- You can't?"

"No? Yes? I haven't really paid it any mind since I've gone through life without a sense of smell."

"Oh." Uno blinked twice, his smile got wider.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Well, I mean, we are on a date."

"Yeah, with two other people." Sebun gestured to Vera and Rock.

"They already know they're soulmates."

"Excuse me, what?!"

He snapped his head in Vera's direction. She sheepishly looked away from him, giggling.

"I couldn't find the best time to tell you, especially since well, y'know..."

"I would have been so happy for you!"

"Yeah, that's uhh why I didn't want to tell you just yet..." She twirled hair between her fingers.

"What do you mean?" Sebun rose a brow.

"I didn't want you to just be happy for me, I wanted you to be genuinely happy."

"You think a soulmate is going to make me genuinely happy?"

"Yeah!" Vera nodded.

"What would make me happy, would be you being happy and sharing milestones with me."

Rock and Uno shared a look with one another.

"Hey, what do you smell right now?" Rock asked.

"Wha- " Sebun blinked twice, processing the question.

"Floral perfume and bread."

"Uno, what about you?"

"Perfume and bread," He shrugged. "Maybe our soulmates are having dinner?"

"Or maybe you two are soulmates?" Vera and Rock suggested.

"Nah. There is no way I would be his soulmate." Uno waved away the notion.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sebun turned to the blonde, leaning his cheek in his hand.

"We've known each other for quite a bit, and never once smelt the same thing."

"It's not about smelling the same thing, it's more about smelling something that the other smells. Like uhhh the chemicals of the apartment building."

"Or that time you were as wet as a dog!" Uno gasped.

Sebun's eyes widened. Staring at the blonde with eyes the size of the moon his arm slipped on table and he smacked himself with the spoon.

"What?" Uno furrowed his brows, looking at the three sitting at the table.

"There's no way you didn't know..." Rock muttered.

"You'd still be oblivious if your soulmate hit you with a brick." Vera giggled.

"I still don't get it..." The blonde muttered.

"Oh my god," Sebun shook his head with a laugh. "I'll explain it to you later."

"Yeah, 'explain it to him' totally." Vera nodded with a wink, making air quotes with her fingers.

The waitress came just as Vera said that, thankfully he was able to pretend he didn't hear anything at all.

"What would shall I start you off with?"

#omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega #au #nanbaka #nanbaka imagine #nanbaka one shot #uno nanbaka #nanbaka oc #oc #original character #uno x oc #uno x sebun #uno x seijiro #soulmate au #soulmate #soulmates share smell through touch #sharing sense of smell #the numbers #not your stereotypical a/b/o fic

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softly-potter · 1 year

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Still Friends | Chapter 9: A Christmas Moment

Summary: After a chance encounter at a party, Wanda and Bucky find they have more in common than they realized.

This fic is heavily inspired by 'Friends' by my lovely friend Poppy. She is aware of this fic and I've been given permission for this marvel-version retelling! If you haven't read her dramione fic 'Friends', I HIGHLY suggest it. I fell in love with the story and couldn't help but wonder, what if it was Wanda and Bucky instead of Hermione and Draco? Thus "Still Friends" was born. Enjoy!

Pairing: Bucky X Wanda

Word Count: 33,068

Warning: smut, drug use, depression

December 23rd, 2027

What does one get a witch for Christmas?

Bucky hasn’t the faintest idea. He’d searched the internet, scrolling through pages of lotions and candles, window shopped on his way home from the gym. He even texted Client, the texting alone taking over half an hour, asking what the man normally got his wife.

CB: Laura doesn’t like flashy things, she prefers memories over items.

Bucky didn’t know what to make of that, so he didn’t respond.

Memories over items. Like photographs? Didn’t that still count as an item? Rebecca had always claimed to hate Christmas, but when the time came, she’d always gifted something impossibly thoughtful, like she’d peered into your brain and knew it was something you’d been hoping for.

Bucky wished he had that gift.

The few Christmases he had spent in the service had been mostly uneventful. No gift giving, sometimes a haphazard tree had been erected and the guys would gather around, drinking and cheering to the Christmas before.

During those years he’d always wished there was a girl he could send postcards to back home, a girl he could visit when he was on leave. But then he’d remember how dangerous his situations were, and how unfair that would be to any person, and he wasn’t a selfish person.

Christmas wasn’t even a thing when he was with Hydra.

Out of all his Christmas’, he never thought he’d be spending one with her; but she wants to. She’s already deciding on what she’s going to cook, for just the two of them, and she’s busying herself by writing down a list. Her handwriting is large, loopy, and she’s rushing, her excitement nearly palpable as she sits across from him at his dining table. His laptop obscures his view of her, scrolling hopelessly, his anxiety growing by each failed attempt at finding a gift she’d enjoyed.

“Do you like sweet potatoes?” She asks, head bent. “I've heard that's a typical American staple for Christmas dinner.”

“Don’t cook too much, lord knows you don’t eat a lot.” He chuckles. Her head shoots up, his only indications of that action is her red hair bouncing, lines etched on her upper forehead.

“Bucky Barnes,” she warned, but her tone was laced with joy. “I have never experienced an American holiday like this. Are you going to strip me of that possibility?”

He rolls his eyes at her dramatics, bringing his coffee mug to his lips. “I'll strip you of something else.”

She leans to the right, giving him a scrunched narrowed look to indicate she heard his raunchy remark. Pulling back to her position, she resumes writing.

“Just you wait, solider.” She mutters, and he surpasses a laugh. “This will be better than any Christmas your mother would have cooked for you.”

He huffs into the cup. “That’ll be easy to accomplish.”

Her pen scratching pauses, can hear her shuffling slightly. “I take it your family didn’t celebrate?”

Bucky flexes his fingers, places the cup down. He’s glad the laptop is obscuring her from view slightly.

He didn’t want to talk about this, he didn’t want to unbury the dead, especially to her. She already carried so much, she didn’t need his weight.

Wanda sits up, her face in view now, green eyes questioning, and he clenches his flesh hand. His nerves grow as the silence stretches on, and she’s patient, waiting for his response. Glancing up, he catches her expression, and he feels a knot grow in his throat. Lips raw, he’s biting down hard.

“Not really.” He replies eventually. Wanda seems to let out a breath. “My sister did, a little.”

Pushing the chair back, he stands from the table with cup in hand, leaving to the living room. She calls after him, but her voice is echoy, like she’s calling through water, and he sits gingerly on the couch, like he’s aching. Like he’s old.

His throat is tight and he wishes he’d died from that fall off the fucking train. It was a simple question for fucks sake, and he was unraveling. Its natural for people to want to know things about you, your family or your job. One mention of his semi-abusive mother and he’s having trouble focusing.

But its hurting. He can’t remember a time when Christmas was good, purely good, a time when Christmas meant just joy. No fighting, no gun powder, no narsocitic let downs.

Just joy.

And he wants it with her, badly, but only her. He wants to remove the edges of his mother and the war from christmas time, and repaint it with her cooking in his kitchen, wearing those dumb fuzzy socks she loves so much.

His jaw aches from clenching.

“Buck?” Her voice is soft, pleading, and he screws his eyes shut. Her hand is on his shoulder, pressing lightly. “Honey?”

She’d just recently started calling him that; it makes him feel warm. He quickly got used to it.

He reaches up, grips her hand from his skin and gently pulls it away. “I’m fine,” he mumbles, releasing his hold. “Just not a big mommas boy.”

Even the phrase sounds odd in his mouth.

Wanda inhales slowly, and then she’s shoving his crouching arms back, crawling into his lap, resting her backside on his left thigh. Cupping his face, she looks at him, and he blinks rapidly, hoping there’s no wetness there.

“That's ok,” she says, her breath ghosting over his face. “Conversation for another day yeah?”

“Yeah.” He responded, hoping that day would never come.

“Listen, I know it’s…hard,” she says, and he can tell she’s watching her words carefully. “to move on when there’s so much hurt surrounding certain days. But, if your mother took so much from you before, don’t let her continue.” She strokes the side of his face. “Don’t let her keep taking it away.”

He stares at her, teeth still picking at his lip. He’s lost for words, in awe of her yet again, and his heart is hammering within his ribcage.

“There's no one i'd rather spend the holidays with,” she whispers, smiling, and pecks his lips. He leans forward, trying to catch them again, but she backs away with a small laugh.

“I’m not a big Christmas fan,” he teases, pulling her back, holding her on him. He spreads his fingers over her back, pressing his digits into her skin, and inhales. “but I can be into anything if it's with you.”

And now he’s standing in the cold December air, a knitted hat snuggly warming his ears as his breath blows out and he searches for the perfect tree.

He’d never had a Christmas tree before, so a part of him was excited. The other part of him was irritated that he wasn’t snuggled in bed with her, feeling her smooth skin against his, and instead freezing his ass off for a tree that would eventually die.

Scouring the woods two hours away from his apartment and his girl is not how he had planned to spend the day before Christmas eve, but she had asked and therefore, he would do it. He searches for a while, peering between sticky pine needles at the base of trees, shaking them slightly to test their sturdiness. They’re all decent, full of color and tall, but none quite right.

Until there’s one.

It’s a dark, mossy color, its tip not just one end but a collection of sharply shaped branches that twist into one, and when he presses his metal hand to it, giving it pressure, it merely stands, not budging.

Bucky grins, switching the ax in his grip from one hand to the other, and when he begins the process of cutting it down, his brows sweating and back aching, he thinks of her.

It amazes him how strong she is, after all the heartbreak. Bucky can’t imagine, and he’s grateful. Grateful for her strength, grateful that something as stupid as christmas brings them closer. He wants to peel back her layers, learn everything about her, and as the months trudge on he’s been able to learn more and more, and he’s so grateful for her in his life he smiles as he chops.

They decided to have the tree in her apartment, an idea she came up with but he heartily agreed with. He didn’t want to deal with the fallen pine needles littering his floor and her apartment seemed so hollow soemtimes, it was no wonder she was nearly always at his. A tree might brighten the mood, make the space feel more homey for her, and he hopes she likes his pick.

The drive back to her apartment is quick, his excitement to see her making the time go faster. He still hadn’t decided on a gift for her, and wondered if he even needed a gift. Of course he needed a gift, but a gift didn’t have to be a material item, isn’t that what Clint said?

All thoughts of presents and christmas are discarded as he pulls into her apartment parking spaces, and is greeted with a dark, unmarked car parked in his guest space. Bucky swerves his car against the back end of the other vehical, jumping out before he can turn off his ignition.

Hes through the door, hand already gripping the knife he keeps in his boot, silently taking in the surrondings. She’s talking, her voice low, but it doesn’t sound distressed. Entering the kitchen quickly, he surveys.

“Calm down, James.”

Clint gives him an incredulous look. A teenage girl with dark hair pulled into a pony tail is beside him, her lip is cut and she’s got a bandaid across her brow. Her eyes are wide as she takes in Bucky with a knife.

“Oh my god you’re the Winter Soldier!” The girl squeaks, a hand raised to her mouth. Leaning against the sink with her arms crossed, Wanda looks from the girl to Bucky, and finally to Clint.

“This, is the girl?” Clint’s flabbergasted, and Bucky rolls his eyes, putting the knife back into its hoslister.

“Barton.” Bucky replies, as way of greeting. The girl sticks her hand out, a goofy smile stretching her features.

“I’m Kate, Kate Bishop,” she says happily. “I’m his partner.”

“Thought you didn’t do partners.” Bucky muttered, ignoring her hand. What was he doing here, bothering Wanda so close to the holidays? Didn’t he have a wife of his own to bother?

“I didn’t,” Clint replied. Kate lowered her hand in disappointment, her cheeks pink. “I wouldn’t even count Nat as a partner. This is my friend Kate, she’s coming with me to see the family for Christmas.”

“Great, fantastic,” Bucky huffed, crossing his arms. “What’re you doing here?”

Wanda seems to be shaken back to life, and she pushes herself off the sink, moving to stand beside him, and snakes her hand into his. His chest blooms.

“He was just leaving,” she says, tone icy. “Right, Clint?”

Clint raises a brow at her, but doesn’t object. He nods his head, and Kate follows him out the kitchen into the foyer. Bucky places a chaise kiss to her hairline. “Be right back, trees in the car and I may have blocked their room to reverse.” Wanda gives him a look, knowing full well why he did that, but there’s humor in her eyes and he winks.

After reversing his truck, Bucky watches as Clint puts their car in drive. He rolls down the window, sticking his head out and Bucky shoves his hands in his pockets. Clint stares for a moment, sucking the side of his cheek, and for once Kate looks quiet.

“Has she ever talked to you about Westview?”

But you’re trying to act like my husband and you aren’t. My husbands dead. Thanos killed him, and then SWORD took him, and I can never see him again.

“Sure.” He keeps his answer short, and while it’s not overly detailed, it is true.

“Did she tell you about what happened?” Clint presses, arm on the window rim. “Did she tell you about her kids?”

The air is suddenly very thin.

“Figured not.” Clint hums, then looks forward. “I would tread lightly with her. If she likes you, she’ll eventually tell you but…be patient. And be aware.”

Bucky wants to ask him what he means, and why he knows information about her that Bucky himself does not, but the marksman closes his window, speeding off into the winter air, snow flurries brushing up in his wake.

Inside, Wanda is pacing, the corner of her index finger nail lodged between her teeth, nipping at it. Bucky drags the tree inside, propping it against the wall. The air is thick with unknowing, and he stares at her as she stares at the floor.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” His tone is harsher than he meant, cooler, and she fidgets.

“He’s just checking in, stopped by since I’m on the same route to his farm.” She looks up then, takes in the tree, then looks at him. “I think he’s taken over Steve's mantel of worrying about everyone.”

Bucky raises a brow. No, he had taken over Steve's mantel of worrying about her. Only her, the world could go fuck itself once again and as long as she was safe, he’d watch it.

“That's all?”

Her eyes find him, and he hardens his look. She’s nervous, throwing him another smile but he doesn’t waiver.

“Wanda.”

“I don't know what you want me to tell you.” She’s frustrated now, raking her hand through her hair. Takes a few steps, planting herself infront of him. “Please don’t let this ruin christmas.” The pleading in her voice is soft, fearful.

He needs to drop it. For the sake of Christmas, the sake of her sanity. She deserves a break, she deserves to enjoy the holidays.

So he does. They erect the tree together, hanging plastic shiny bulbs from the branches, Wanda wrapping a silky blanket around the ugly-colored base. She puts in premade cinnamon rolls to bake while they string the lights, turning on her radio and flipping it to the channel that plays strictly holiday music from December 1st to the 31st. The sugary smell wafts through the apartment, and they ice them together, devouring them as they watch the Christmas special of I Love Lucy.

They laugh at the bad comedy, kissing between sugary bites, and its wholesome, a simple bliss he’d never had the chance to claim for himself. It’s real happiness.

Cleaning the dishes, they wash their sticky hands and sweep the pine needles, getting momentarily distracted by each other's lips. He dumps the dust pan in the waste bin, watching as she puts away the dishes and she’s thoroughly happy. He’s happy she’s happy.

So when he kisses her goodnight, not staying over because he has an early round of training, he wonders why his heart isn’t settled.

“Thank you for today,” she whispers as she pulls away. “It was…fun.” He grins at her, hands loosely on her butt and he gives her a light squeeze. She pulls away with an eye roll, peeking through the crack in the door as she blows him a kiss.

Bucky tosses all night, before eventually making himself a cup of coffee at two in the morning, settling down in front of his desk top, and types Westview into the search bar.

#winterwitch #ao3 crosspost #wanda and bucky #still friends

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thestrangestinthisstrangeland · 2 years

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As We Lay Dreaming - chapter 7

warnings: drinking/drunken behavior in front of children. Mentions of domestic aggression

summary: When you reach that point, there's no going back. Glory begins to see a different future for herself and her children-- one without Him.

Life work balance is hard enough, now Dream has to throw love in and, well he is tying?

AO3

masterlist

The neighbors were watching.

This was the thing Glory hated most of all; making a scene, drawing attention to herself and her family. It made her skin crawl, and here she was, center stage for the neighborhood to see, or at least it felt that way.

Maybe she shouldn't have come home at all.

Trying to ignore the people she knew so well, Glory focused on the humiliating scene unfolding just across the yard and through her large front window.

He had come home too.

She'd foolishly thought they were in the clear once all the kids had their baths and she'd gotten the table set for dinner without any sign of him, but that delusion was quickly dissolved.

At first, she thought the promise of her cooking would settle him, but he wasn't having it.

As soon as he sat down to eat and got that look in his eye like he was in the mood to start trouble, she'd ushered the children out the door without a second thought, refusing to subject them to his ranting and drunken raving.

Granted, tonight wasn't the worst it's ever been; there were some moments she would never allow herself to think of again, but this evening, he was messy, sloppy— pathetic. They didn't need to see that.

"Mama, I want to eat dinner," her youngest boy said, tugging at the pale yellow dress she'd changed into.

"Hush." She pulled him close while they stood on the edge of the lawn, watching his staggered steps through the front window. Back and forth, her husband swayed like a fisherman at sea during a raging storm. She supposed he was battling some bad weather of his own making.

Glory hoisted the baby up higher on her hip and sighed.

He'll pass out soon, she reassured herself. Hopefully, in his favorite chair and not in the bed they were supposed to share.

"Miss Glory? You alright?"

The comforting voice of her neighbor from across the way, Miss Pearl, made her shut her eyes. Just that little bit of warmth nearly brought her to tears.

"Yes, ma'am," Glory answered loud enough to be heard as she opened her eyes and fixed on him again. You'd have to know the layout of the house to understand that right now, he was fumbling with the with the old t.v. It only worked if you hit it on the right side. He kept hitting the left.

"Let those babies come and eat. It's supper time." Miss Pearl said at her back. The soft touch of her small bony hand on Glory's shoulder broke the trance. She looked up at the clear evening sky to block out the sight of his silhouette stumbling away from the window. Her clenched jaw the only outward display of emotion she allowed. Damn him! She had a whole chicken on the table. There were potatoes and corn, the milk she'd just started to pour was sure to go warm, that is if he didn't drink it all.

"Please, mama," her daughter begged.

Looking down into the child's eyes, so much like hers in shape but his in spirit, she sighed and gave a little nod. "Go on, I'll come and get you when it's… when you're finished." She said and turned back to the glow of her lamps inside; even when Pearl gently plucked the baby from her arms, she did not turn. To see them go would be too much.

She shut her eyes, and while Glory never saw sense in praying, she liked the way it felt to say the words over and over.

"Sleep." She urged, her hands folded in front of her, the grip hurting but not nearly as much as the pain in her heart. "Just please, go to sleep."

When the house had gone quiet, and her legs ached from standing in that lonely spot for so long, Glory decided to finally go inside.

As she'd guessed, he was sprawled out in the big chair, snoring softly.

She stood over him for a while, staring down at his face. She didn't like the man, but when he was at peace, she could remember the charming person he used to be.

She'd ignored his advances for a while, but charm is something you're either born with or practice having in front of the mirror every day until you've got it right.

He was born with some to spare.

All that charm and not a single ounce of compassion. She shook her head, sighing softly.

A long time ago, this sleeping bastard could make her laugh like none other. They'd gone on long drives in his beautiful car and walked down the quiet country lane where her grandmother's house still stands and all the while he'd keep her smiling if not clutching her ribs from the pain of too much laughter.

Once, he'd taken her to the juke joint out in the middle of the swamp. But that was the night she gave herself to him, and nothing was the same since.

She would never forgive him for that. For acting like that part of her held some magic. She was the same girl before, during and after. It was him who changed.

Still, sometimes, she sees who he once was.

The blanket from the sofa was soft. Glory grabbed it and tossed it up high, letting it come down to lay over his big sleeping form. Even in the heat, she saw him relax and knew that it brought her husband comfort.

She'd never known anyone who deserved it less.

"Mama"

"What baby?" She asked, pulling the sheet up to tuck her girl in tight.

"Miss Pearl made chicken tonight too."

"Oh?"

"I like it more than yours."

Glory chuckled softly, kissing one cheek and then the other. "Me too."

She turned off the lamp and quietly went to the door, but not before looking back at the children, already half asleep. One bed for three kids and a crib for the baby.

"Let them rest easy tonight," she whispered to him, hoping he could hear. "Let them dream of more than this." She said, catching the pain in her voice before it could escape. She looked around the little room with its plain walls and thin curtains and the worn-out old rug in the center of the floor. "They deserve so much more than this"

Glory turned off the light and left the door open an inch or so for the youngest boy. Her children were in the care of the one who could keep them safe now and she found peace in that.

There were plenty of jobs she could do. She wasn't above hard work. As long as it paid well, she could get them out. They wouldn't be able to go very far, but she could be free.

This was his house. Let him have it.

It was 1978, after all. Times were changing; women didn't stay home and listen to men anymore, not even women stuck in forgotten country towns with one main road.

In the kitchen, sitting at the little table, Glory circled a few wanted ads and a listing for an apartment that sounded nice enough.

She didn't need it to be anything special or permanent. It didn't have to be forever. It didn't have to be perfect. Not yet; it just had to be something.

"Something more than this." She whispered, looking down at the ink that smudged under her fingers. "I'll find something."

She was good at finding things. Lost items, treasures, trinkets, the endless… She would hunt until she found the right fit and do it quickly.

The hour must have been later than she realized, though. The quiet of the house, coupled with the evening noise of frogs and insects through the screen door, was making it harder to focus. The page blurred, she yawned twice, and as she searched, the answers to questions she could not remember and ways out of places she worried she might never escape, began circling Glory like old ghost.

She fought sleep and haunted thoughts while searching for work in between looking at apartment listings, all the while, one question danced at the back of her mind, but when she tried to focus on it, the damn thing would stop moving, and she'd forget what it was, over and over until she gave up.

Glory shook her head, trying to get rid of the feeling and rubbed her eyes. For the first time in a very, very long time she did not want to sleep. But the finger that pointed to the page slid and her hand smoothed out over the page until her head rested on her arm and her breathing calmed and her heart slowed and Glory slept.

I do not have a second to spare; I don't know why but tonight feels off. I am unsettled, like I'm not in my bed and relaxed, but tense and just waiting for this dream to be disrupted.

I hadn't meant to fall asleep; I know that much. But waking in Fiddlers Green with the sun on my face and bird song filling the air does make me feel some semblance of calm.

Funny, now that I'm here, the words that had been rattling around in my head like the loose parts of a broken watch make sense. All the little screws and gear cogs lock into place.

Looking over my shoulder, I find the castle that has become more and more like home.

Now I remember! I need to tell him before the words are taken from me.

On my feet, I'm up and running over the hills and bridges and through the beautiful chaos of the dreaming, not willing to waste a second of sleep.

I am a friendly one-woman army storming the castle; my anti-weapons are determination, excitement, and joy, and I have an ally within these walls.

Inside I rush past Mervyn, wave to Mathew, and find him-- my friend-- my ally the King, who is lost in some deep contemplation. I only say his name so that I won't startle him-- as if he didn't already know I'd come.

Dream turns in time to receive my hug with an "oof" I grin against the black t-shirt.

"Hello, Glory," he says when I look up at him. He tries to smile, but it's stiff and distant. He is the bucket of water, and I am the flame extinguished. My excitement melts away, but I refuse to let him stop me from at least explaining why I've come. It's too important.

"Dream. I– I feel like I don't have much time." I say, still unsure of why. "I need your help," I tell him, only then noticing Lucien walking around with some sort of ledger. No. Wait...Lucien? "Oh!"

"Hello, Glory." She says.

She? Lucien, this Lucien, has skin as dark as mine, but her eyes are wise, her ears cute and pointed. She wears her glasses, same as always, her clothes are smart, and I think? Yes. Definitely. This is the same friend I've always known, but what an unexpected surprise. "You look… incredible. You've changed!"

"Things are always changing in the dreaming." She says with a warm smile and a small bow.

"They really do have a habit of doing that, don't they " I say, matching her expression. "I'm just happy you're still here. That's what matters."

"Well, the same can be said for you." She glances at Dream who seems slightly distracted. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a few more items to catalog. Amazing how much stuff, can accumulate over the years."

I give a little wave watching her go. Turning back to Dream, I see the way he watches too like he means to say something but doesn't. "Never took you for a packrat, I try to tease. He just does that disapproving growl that makes me smile before I remember that I don't have time for this. "Oh! As I was saying!"

Dream glances down at me but turns away. "Yes?" I stay put and watch him begin the long climb up his throne steps. They are the sort of thing you might dream of ascending but never manage to reach the top.

"Yes. I, well, it's hard to explain, but I need to speak with my grandmother."

He glances back at me, intrigued, before he continues, his bare feet silent as he goes. "Why would you need my help for that?"

Dream stops short of sitting on his throne and turns, looking down at me. I've never stood beneath him like this, and I'm not sure I know how it makes me feel. There are a wide variety of sensations, some of which are actually very nice; I'll come back to them when it's more... appropriate. I feel my face flush. Even in sleep, I get embarrassed by my distracted thoughts of him. Now is not the time. "You already know her condition. Without being able to communicate with her, I'll never be able to ask her my questions."

"Her condition? Do you mean the fact that your grandmother had a stroke and has been in a coma for the last year and a half?"

Did he have to say it that way? I hang my head. "Yes."

"I can be of no assistance."

"But you can. You can take me to her. In dreams."

He stands up there looking more like a king in his t-shirt and jeans than I've ever seen him before. Dream crosses his arm as

he looks me over and sighs. "I do not transport people in that way, Glory. The answer is no."

I must be having my first nightmare inside the dreaming. That is the only explanation. "But there is no other way!"

"That may be." Dream says all calm and cold, "But that does not change the answer."

I don't know what to do. I think I'm stunned. Did he really just... "Yes!" I blurt out, refusing to accept this as his final answer.

"No."

"But you never say no!"

He steps forward. "There are first times for everything. My answer is No."

"Morpheus!"

The stars burn bright. He is surprised that I would say his name. I am too, but I'm angry!

"Glory?" He questions.

Would I push back against the lord of this land?

He may be mighty, but I'm not giving up.

Hell yes I push back.

I stand my ground in the middle of the throne room with my arms crossed as I watch him watch me and wait.

I speak before he does; no sense in giving him the upper hand in this argument-- Is this an argument? I do not know anything but shouting and defusing and fear. This feels very different. "All I'm asking is that you help me. I have questions that need answers and this is the only way!"

He must see that I will not be giving in so easily and Dream begins to saunter down the steps towards me in his black pants and tight black t-shirt, his long arms of lean muscle swaying slightly. He looks almost sorry-- almost.

Clearing my throat to find my voice of authority, I force myself to stop looking at him, but sometimes, his black pools for eyes can be so expressive, and right now, despite disappointing me, he looks ready to take me in his arms.

"I'm sorry that I can't help you this time. I am." He says, stopping short."

He is the paint thinner, and I am the masterpiece, my momentary excitement falling to the floor in globs.

I dont' even want his finger lifting my chin but I don't pull away. "Now come and see me off." He says and moves past me with the grace of an angel.

"See you off?"

Dream is already on his way down the hall, and I have no choice but to follow, or the conversation really would end.

Practically running to keep up with his long strides, we leave the throne room for the hallways that make me uncomfortable. Lit by sconces, we traverse them easily with the master of the castle leading the way and cross paths with the things that live and work here. All of them bow to their lord, but none of it matters to me. "Dream?" I feel hesitant to go on, but he should know by now, I am persistent. "There's a part I haven't said. Will you at least listen to that?"

"I don't see why, as my mind is already made up. But you are a very determined woman, I assume you intend on continuing to talk." He says as we enter his quarters.

So he does know me-- that makes me smile, but I'm still irritated and slightly offended, and resumed my stance– arms crossed, hip jutted, head tilted. "Something happened to me the other day. Something strange, and I can't remember what it was, but I know for a fact that I'm meant to."

He hears me, but goes to a sort of wardrobe along the far wall and opens it, the door blocks my view.

"What was it?"

"I--I'm not sure. A threat? Help? It's so hard to say now..."

He stops to look at me, curious for the first time. "The two are not usually confused."

"I know. I feel like I had a bad dream or something, but I know that it was more than that."

"I would have known if your dreams were threatening you, Glory."

"Then it really happened?" I ask myself more than him.

His frown deepens. "How would entering your grandmother's dreams help you to understand?"

"I dont know but, It's the only way I can talk to her." I say, listening as he starts rummaging around in the wardrobe.

"You can talk to her, you simply don't."

That hurts. I don't say anything. I can't because he's probably right. But damn it, she's just so far. The state hospital is almost three hours away, plus, well it's very hard for me to see her that way. Once a month isn't enough. I know that. It probably makes me a terrible person, but she's been like this since the stroke. The nurses are professionals, I am not, and He says that it's better for me to let them do their job without us getting in the way...

Dream is staring at me. I can feel him in my mind and I am ashamed.

Mercifully, he goes back to his search "I think you should start with driving to see her." He says as he shuts the doors, pulling on a long-- glove?

It's distracting, strange, and hard to ignore, but what he's saying draws my attention away from the visual "I can't. My car will never make it." I say, hearing my voice sound about as confident as I am in my answer, which is to say, not very.

"And yet you circle listings two towns over for a job you'd have to drive to every day?"

"I..."

Dream looks away, saying "See" without saying a word as he shoves his hand into the other glove, his forearm flexing as his fingers slowly wave into place.

As completely stunning as he looks with his shirt that is a tank top now, his jeans slung low, and his hair a longer mess of black so thick I'd never get my fingers through it, I am surprised to only just now realize he's preparing for something...

"I have to do something to get us out of this mess, Morpheus. I got us into it." I say, trying to figure it out while staying the course of my own cause.

"Hmm"

"Do not hmm me!"

He smiles and turns away.

"What are you doing anyway? Why are you wearing those?"

"When you came to me, I was preparing to leave. Something-- urgent-- was brought to my attention, and I need to see to it. I'm sorry our time together will be short."

This feels off, like he's half here with me, half somewhere else. His mind is on whatever is taking him away already, and while I know the one I love is not a man but a being who bears the weight of great responsibility, I do wish he could just stay and argue with me, I think I was getting pretty good at it.

Dream goes to a wall of light at the other end of the room that I don't think I've ever noticed before, probably because it was never there before, and walks through it and back so quickly I do not have time to respond, only its not the endless I'm currently angry with that returns. In his place, I see a monster, a demon, a strange skeletal bug-eyed beast that would terrify me if I didn't know that underneath the strange helmet was still the black hair and eyes.

I wish I were brave enough to not take a step back, but I do. "Dream?"

"Do not be afraid." He says and comes to me.

"Why do you look like that?"

"This is my helm, made of pure dream matter and the bones of an old god. It protects me as much as it reminds me."

"Reminds you of what?"

"The day I lost." He says so softly I barely hear him. "And to never lose again." The room goes quiet and I wonder just how much danger he's really in. "Now, I told you. I must go. I have work to do. Things that can not wait. You may stay, you know you are welcome here for as long as you wish, for as long as you sleep."

His gloved hand reaches out to take mine. "Work?" I look him up and frown as I smile, "Dream, you look like you're going to exterminate someone."

I like the husky sound of his laughter beneath the mask.

"Perhaps."

"Will you be alright?"

"I am not afraid."

No, of course, he's not. His power is as old as time and night. He's beautiful, even with the helmet and gloves, no, especially with the gloves, and right now, his jeans are slung low, low enough to distract me, enough to show the subtle v-ing... what god is this part of a man named for? Adonis? I reach over, run my fingers along the waist of his pants and look up into the strange helmet that looks back at me. "I know you're doing this on purpose."

"What?" He asks calmly.

"Oh, this" I flick my eyes down at him, all of him and Dream snickers, the sound still muffled beneath the helm. "That's alright. It almost worked, and I'm enjoying the attempt." My hands lay on his hips, thumbs stroking down along his cool flesh, the definition of muscle easy to trace. His response is minimal, but minimal for Dream is everything. I smile, watching the way he lets himself enjoy my touch with a little breath in, his chest rising, stomach sinking back and away from the waist of his pants for just a second and I look up at him, tempted to slide my hand down, but I don't. "I'm not giving up. You know that." I say, holding onto his sides, feeling the bone and muscle beneath, "I need this, I need you, I need my answers. This is important to me, Dream, more than I can say, but only because I don't know how to say it. But I am patient, remember that."

Something is waking me. I knew I did not have long.

"Dream!"

His low grunt is the sound of irritation as he pulls me closer and I don't know if I want to see the bones that hang from the mask but I have no choice. "When I am back. I will help you, but only once. You can not ask this of me again. Do you understand?"

I try not to look too happy even as he starts to fade and I think that maybe I've just been holding onto myself this entire time? Or a tree? Or my husband? No, it is him. The one I love. And yes, I'm trying to be coy, but it's so satisfying to hear him say it. "Oh! Yes, of course! I only need this one chance. Thank you!" I say and dare to touch the strange– leather? "I would kiss you but…"

"Save your affection for when I return." Says the man in the gas mask and long leather trench coat in the middle of a war.

Bombs and swords and explosions over cities.

I was storming a castle.

"It's not often my kind have something to look forward to other than the promise of consistency."

I am in his arms, the arms of a foreign ally. I love him. Leaning back, I look up at this horrifying creature who I trust with my life. "Now that, I can do." I say perfectly happy to wait until the next time I come to the dreaming.

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