#i cry about not being able to go to the footy and having to work from home and never seeing my friends but sheesh it could be worse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mid-weast · 3 years

Text

Will you keep it down? | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You and Jungkook attend the same university and have been neighbors for 3 months now. It drives you crazy that he plays loud music at 2AM, and it drives him crazy that you barely acknowledge his presence.

Pairing: Jungkook x Female!Reader; Black!Reader

Words: 2.6K

Genre: enemies to lovers, student!jungkook, student!reader, fluff, mention of smut, angst? (in the form of bickering back and forth).

Authors note: Hi hi! This is the first fic I’ve ever written so if it’s bad I’m sorry. Also it is unedited so if there's grammar / spelling mistakes I'm sorry again! Also this is catered toward the reader being Black but I hope it can be enjoyed by everyone. Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated ok love u bye!

“Y/N? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??!? Open this door RIGHT NOW!”

Even though you were studying in your room, his knocks were so loud you nearly jumped out of your skin. You had expected a reaction, but not a full-on explosion.

You and Jungkook have been apartment neighbors for about three months now, and a constant problem is that he blares his music hella loud late at night. Of course he’s a music major so he listens to music a lot, but at this point you don’t care. It doesn’t even seem like he’s working on composition homework anyway, just being an asshole with no regard for his neighbors peace. Now don’t get yourself wrong, you're not just some uptight bitch who complains about everything. Well, you do have several pet peeves but over the years of going to school in Korea you’ve picked and chosen your battles very wisely. In most cases you let things slide. You wouldn’t care at all about someone playing the music loudly, but it is 2 AM, and while you’re up studying you know a lot of your other neighbors are trying to sleep.

You tiptoe toward your front door and twist the knob slowly. You only open the door wide enough to be able to see his face. It’s not that you’re scared that you’re in danger or anything, and you rarely back down from people giving you a hard time. But you were tired, wearing a big ass t- shirt and short shorts (your regular sleep attire), and it was late at night. So if anything was going to pop off you felt pretty vulnerable. Even though you’re the same age, he towers over you and you find his size kinda intimidating.

As usual, you have to crane your neck to see his face, and your view of him is limited by the narrowness in which

you opened the door.

“Can I help you, lil boy?”

From what you can see of him, right away you can tell that he is pissed. Dawning his usual attire of a black sweatshirt with the hood up, black sweats, and stomp a hoe boots, he stood extremely close to your apartment door with his arms crossed. His usually wide, puppy dog eyes are now pressed in narrow slits. His normally pouty lips are formed in a hard line, and his jaw is so clenched you could carve an ice sculpture with his jawline.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You called the cops on me? Are you INSANE???" Jungkook shouts.

Obviously he's mad, and despite the amount of times you've gone back and forth he's never raised your voice at you. The old you would have screamed back at him, but over time you've tried to respond to anger with calmness. Also, you were a little scared because this mf is kind of big.

"I already told you if you keep blaring your music at 2AM, I was going to do something about it!" You respond in a hushed whisper, slightly concerned that your elderly neighbors will be even more disturbed by the noise. "I've told you this a million times, and you barely do anything about it. If anything, it's gotten worse like you're doing it on purpose. People are trying to sleep and I'm trying to study, why is this so hard for you to understand?"

He sucks his teeth. "You're such a little snitch. And I've already told YOU that YOU can't tell me what to do."

"I know I can't...but they can," you nod toward the exit, referring to the police officers that most likely just left out that way with a tiny smirk growing on your face.

If it was possible, he clenched his jaw even harder and you think that he's going to pop a blood vessel. He pushes his way into your apartment, which sends you stumbling back and you grab the door handle to regain your balance. This causes you to close the door shut.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're-"

He steps right up to you and leans down into your face.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, seriously??? Why are you such an annoying little brat? Just because you're a nerd with no friends who gets no play doesn't mean you can take your bitterness out on me.”

You have to laugh in his face at this point because hello??? First of all, who is he talking to? Second of all, you have told him a BUNCH of times to turn his music down late at night. You didn't think that was too much to ask. As far as you were concerned, being aware of your noise level when you live in an apartment is the universal bare minimum for being a human being.

"ME? Who do you think YOU are? Actually let me tell you. You're an entitled little rich boy who thinks he runs the world. I don't give a fuck about how popular you are on campus, how many people fall at your feet to be around you, and how many hoes you have, you cant talk to ME like that. And how are you going to try and tell me about myself when it's too much of a task for you to be a decent neighbor? I've never done anything to blatantly bother you, so why can you just.." You started to panic because usually when you raise your voice out of anger, your voice cracks and tears threaten to pool out of your eyes, but you tried to get a grip and not back down..."why can you just be nice to me so we can live in peace? Is that too hard for you???"

He looked kind of taken aback by your question. Being nice to you? It never crossed his mind. Also, you kind of had a point. When the semester started and you both moved in on the same day, you would shoot him a small, friendly smile in passing but you never seemed interested in getting to know him. He always wondered why that was. It's not that he had a problem talking with girls, since all he had to do was breathe and girls would come flocking around him, but you would flat out ignore him. Even at all the major parties at the beginning of the year and on Thursday nights when students take over the clubs in the city, you'd barely even acknowledge him. He KNEW that you had seen him too, since you would make eye contact, but you acted like he was just another guy at the club.

And he'd be lying if he said you weren't fine. You had thick thighs, a beautiful face, nice curves, and always wore outfits that hugged you in the right places. He always wondered what it would feel like to wrap his arms around your body and press it against his own. He would constantly sneak peaks of you throughout the night at the club, but something stirred in him when he saw that you were chatting up other guys. Was he...jealous? Jealous that you were so eager to pay attention to these dudes who, in his opinion, were decent looking but they were nowhere near his level, and you never even gave him a second thought? One night he even saw you leaving with a man he knew through mutual friends, and he had to physically stop himself from breaking the glass he was holding, because that guy, while objectively handsome, was nothing compared to him. Jungkook wasn't blatantly cocky, but he let his talent, charm, and looks speak for themselves. He was THEE Jeon Jungkook, and nothing ever really bothered him....except you.

Was he....interested in you? Nah, that can't be it. You were some random chick who happened to be his neighbor, who also is one of the only girls he's met that doesn't give two fucks about even having small talk with him, and that infuriated him for some reason. So the first time you came knocking on his door in an adorable pink satin pajama set with a matching bonnet complaining about his loud music, he knew the game he had to play.

He's still standing over you, centimeters away from you face, but you notice that his eyes soften a little and so does his jaw. He unclenches the fists he was holding crossed against his chest

You continue, “I don't care what you do, and I'm DEFINITELY trying to run your messy ass life. Believe me," you scoff, "you don't have enough money to pay me to do that. But when your dickhole behavior fucks with MY life is when it's a problem. And it's BEEN a problem."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever, little girl, maybe I should call you little mouse now, since now I know that you'll go squeaking to the cops now, don't fuck with me or my music again.”

Without moving your head you look him up and down with a confused expression. "Am I supposed to be scared of you? No seriously, you look like you cry during Disney movies while wearing footie pajamas, and now here you are throwing a fit because I forced you to stop bothering the entire wing with your music?"

Girl...what are you saying??? This man just barged into YOUR place, is in your face, and is strong enough to pick you up and throw you, and you’re insulting him? But you figured if he's going to be rude, you'll throw it right back because you're tired of his bullshit.

Whatever softness he was feeling for a fleeting moment immediately left, and annoyance once again washed over. He straightens up a bit and puts on that annoying confident smirk he wears when he thinks he's won arguments between you two.

"You should be nicer to me, all it will take is for me to tweet one thing about you, and you'll be the most hated person on campus."

At this point, any suspicions that you had about him annoying you on purpose were confirmed. You've concluded that this mf is a bully and you, small and shy but not one to take mess, will put him in his place to-motherfucking-night.

You take a step toward him, now crossing your arms tightly against your chest, but he doesn't even move a hair backwards.

"Clearly you need a rude awakening so here it is. I don't know what type of people you've dealt with all your life, always saying yes to you, letting you boss them around and taking whatever bullshit you dish out, but let me tell you I am not the one. Never have been and never will be. Unlike the other fools around here who cream their pants at the mention of your name, I don't care about who you are. You'll respect ME and MY peace as long as we're neighbors, you get me?"

Now y/n, you have never so boldly stood up to someone, where did that come from, babes? You've tried to not let this entitled little boy get to you this whole time, but with him standing in front of you in the middle of your apartment with that extremely annoying, yet handsome, smirk on his face, and after all the crap he's said tonight, he had you all the way fucked up.

After you said that, he just laughed and looked away. Now you’re standing there fuming and confused...was there a joke you missed? You were being dead serious!

"Something funny?" you ask, narrowing your eyes.

"Nothing, just thinking about how I want to face fuck that annoying little mouth of yours so you finally shut up.”

Your jaw almost dropped to the floor. You've never had a guy say something so blatantly rude and vulgar literally inches away from your face. But again, you weren't going to back down.

"Oh really?" Scoffing and tilting your head to the side a bit while narrowing your eyes even more, "I'd very much like to do the same. Maybe then you'll learn your place."

"Oh please, princess, you probably blanch when someone around you even mentions the word sex." He chuckles and leans down close toward your face again and cocks his head to the side, scrunching his nose and in a pouty voice said, "you're fooling no one, but keep trying, maybe you'll get there.”

You're even more annoyed than you were before, if that was even possible. But if he wanted to play this game, you might as well go there with him. It's true, you were a bit more prudent than more, but it pissed you off that he could tell. Regardless, you do know some things to say that could have him leaving with his tail between his legs.

You pouted your lips and in a babying tone said, “Aww sweetheart you have no idea. You think you're big and bad but like I said, you probably cry watching Disney movies. The same way you'd be crying, begging me to let you cum down my throat as I mercilessly toy with your cock for hours.”

Now it's his turn to go pale. Y/n, his stuck up neighbor who has barely even spared him five seconds of her time just threatened to edge him into submission? He has to pinch himself because he must be dreaming....

“Well I-“

“But I don't even think we’d make it that far, hun” you continue, “because in order to humble your egotistical, disrespectful ass, I'm gonna have to ride your face until you suffocate. And when the paramedics come and I have to explain how you died, I won't even hesitate to tell them that you were a punk ass loser who LITERALLY drowned in my pussy!”

You don’t know who this person speaking is, but it is not you. All of the pent up hostility you’ve held towards him just flooded out of you and you couldn’t stop the words from coming out. To be honest you shocked yourself, but you still stood there with your arms crossed and your face unfaltering, just waiting for him to say something smart back.

He stared at you silently, eyes wider than you’ve seen before and his mouth hung slightly open. He wasn’t expecting you to respond with so much fire, but now he wouldn’t be able to sleep until the image you painted came true. His brain said fuck it, and his lips crashed down onto yours. The kiss is sloppy but passionate, and you swore you heard him quietly whimper.

When he feels you starting to kiss back, he smirks into the kiss. Your lips are moving against each other in tandem, and all thoughts about how much you despise the prick fades away. As you uncrossed your arms and placed them on his chest, you could feel his heart beating wildly. Was he as nervous as you were this whole time? You wonder. You knew he was a player, so he was experienced. But the thought that you made him nervous gave you a tiny confidence boost. His hands slowly slide up the sides of your body to sneak behind your back, to pull you further into his chest. As much as your brain was telling you to resist him and push him away, you couldn't help but fall victim to how soft his lips felt against yours. Suddenly you feel airborne as he swiftly reaches down behind your thighs and picks you up. You instinctively gasp but he doesn’t miss a beat, simply biting your lower lip and locking your lips together again.

“Maybe we should test that scenario of yours, and if it comes true, that wouldn’t be the worst way for me to go” he says, doing that annoying but soul-crushingly handsome smirk he likes to wear as he carries you off to your bedroom.

771 notes · View notes

meta-squash · 3 years

Text

I did a long thread on twitter analyzing/interpreting You’re My Waterloo for the fun of it, but it was mostly for the amusement/interest of myself and like one other friend on there that likes The Libertines. So I figured I’d transcribe it over here where people might get more out of it? Since it was a twitter thread, the sentences might be a bit weird and stilted, by the way. So:

I'm glad they waited to record Waterloo until 2015. I feel like any other time would have been wrong. I know Peter was playing the slow version back in at least 2007 but I think it would have been sad in a different way if they had recorded it before 2015. Like, in 2015 it's just a straight up love song that's slightly sad because, well, it's Peter. If they had recorded it before I feel like it'd have been a love song with resentment wound through it. There's just a lot of emotion in that song and if there's one thing Peter is really really good at doing, it's Emoting Intensely. But it's not just Peter, the piano is so beautiful and the strings are beautiful and Carl's guitar solo is Intense. It's all A Lot. Like, of all the songs that Peter has written about Carl, about their relationship and career and experiences together, THIS is the one where you can feel most strongly the near-obsessive type adoration. So I’m glad they waited to record it properly when they were friends again (also I’m mildly surprised that it was Carl’s suggestion to rerecord it). Anyway.

Fuck the first verse of this song is a lot. This whole song is a lot. I mean it starts off with such a sad sentiment, it's almost a warning? "You'll never fumigate the demons / No matter how much you smoke." You can't smoke away sadness no matter how much you want to. Bitterly ironic, considering the sorts of things Peter ended up smoking etc to chase away demons, the types of extremes they both went to above and beyond just trying to fumigate. But anyway. "Just say you love me for three good reasons / And I'll throw you the rope." It's just so fucking codependent. So intensely obsessive and codependent. There was a quote, I think maybe from Roger Sargent?, about Peter crying outside a venue in like 2002 because even then he was scared about losing his friendship with Carl to the Something Bigger of fame. This feels like a desperate bid to hang on to that love. But also like Peter is so intense. Every video of interviews where he's sitting next to Carl or gigs when they're friends or reunions or whatever, he just wants to be in Carl's space and have Carl's gaze and his attention and stuff. Like a cat that sits on your work.

Again, a digression. Oops. I said I was in a mood. It's so interesting that while it's definitely a love song To Carl, the only direct mention of Love is asking for love From Carl. It's like he's working on the assumption that his feelings are obvious (they are) and desperately wants reassurance or reciprocation.

"You don't need it / Because you are the survivor / Of more than one life" We know the origin of this is apparently Carl's dead twin brother. But also the offering of a rope only to reassure that no, you don't need it is just so...I don't know...sweet? Especially because while "throw you the rope" is obviously a symbol of rescue it could just as easily be a noose. Except that it's neither. Because he doesn't need it. Because he can survive fucking anything, because they love each other--he hopes. It’s like, if you love me as much as I love you, I’ll try to help you, even though I know you don’t need me because you just need to realize you can do it on your own. "And you're the only lover I had / Who ever slept with a knife" The interview where they talk about this line is so funny. "No it's not about us. But Carl did sleep with a knife and the line about being a survivor is about Carl having a dead twin and Peter saying he was the twin reincarnated. But it’s totally not about us." Anyway. Ugh just so much of this song seems to be about Peter being Super Obvious and open about his love for Carl and Carl being more closed off. Carl being the only lover who slept with a knife; he'll accept the love but he's wary of it and wary giving it.

(By the way by love I don't necessarily mean Romantic or Sexual love. They clearly adore each other one way or another, that's obvious enough. But Best Friendship love is 100% a thing.) (However, the Judy Garland line is so funny to me because "Friend of Dorothy" was a secret code for gay men for a while. And considering the amount of queer literature etc Peter references in everything, there's no way he didn't know this.)

I can't really go in depth into the Tony Hancock line since I really don't know much about Hancock and I know that it was a real touchstone for Peter and Carl. But it plus the Judy Garland line feels like a "neither of us have ever really had a home, but we found one in each other" thing. Which is. A lot. Especially with the "until the dawn" bit, because a main component of so many stories about them from other people is the two of them staying up for days together writing and adventuring and just doing stuff and no one else being able to get in their little bubble.

I love the "ahh" after "Stone the crows" and the way the music starts to swell. It's obvious that the next verse is the Important One. And it is. There's the story about Peter crashing an event at the Old Vic while Carl was ushering to tell him they should be writing together and everyone who's there are dicks. But it's also like...so many layers of what is success and what is appreciation and how do you express love. I assume the flowers are not from his show, that he's collected them from the stage after someone else's show. But it's reusing tokens of mostly empty/superficial/performative appreciation--the tradition of tossing flowers on the stage--as a token of genuine love. Sitting through an entire performance, watching someone else's success and dreaming of being there and then using the token of appreciation for that person to instead give it to the person you yourself appreciate and love and want to succeed with. It's like a promise, a "we'll get there." But also another act of desperation because he's been sitting there for hours. Carl wasn't there to receive the gift and wasn't there to write with him. But he's been chasing words around on the page--the love-words to this song or the words to another one?--and he needs Carl there to really complete it, needs Carl there to hear it. It's very much in line with Peter yelling that they should be writing. This intense "Please be with me please accept the way I express myself please complete my incomplete bits please like me as much as I like you" etc.

And then the chorus which is so interesting. I desperately wish I understood the Gypsy Lane and Stanley Park references. I think Stanley Park is a footie reference but I’m not sure? I'm trying to do all of the interpretation off my own brain and not use the notes on the Genius website or anywhere else but I wanted to see if those two references here had been crowdsourced. Apparently both Gypsy Lane and Stanley Park are places he spent time in his childhood (and I called it on the football reference, yes!). Which is. Wow. Okay. And then there's Waterloo which is a whole thing in itself. It's Waterloo as Waterloo but also Waterloo Station. So Carl is able to be Peter's Ultimate Defeat, the thing that has the ability to ruin him. But also Waterloo Station is near the Old Vic where Carl worked & would go to theatre bars, so it's also a place of familiarity. Since I don't know anything else about the Gypsy Lane reference, I can only assume it's also a place of comfort and familiarity. So Peter's admitting to Carl's power over him, ability to hurt him, but offering to comfort him in return. (Important for later.)

"I'm so glad we know just what to do / And exactly who's to blame" I love this line because it knows it's wrong. Especially in 2015 but maybe even in the early days. They bounced blame back and forth between them for YEARS. Not to mention all the outside bullshit. And obviously they didn't know what to do. The Waterloo/Stanley Park is another reference to a familiar place and a power to hurt/offer to comfort moment. I wish I knew if there was some sort of proper football reference here (aka a QPR reference since that's Peter's team) but I know absolutely nothing about sport so idk.

"Well I'm so glad we know just what to do / And no one's left / Stumbling around / Tumbling around / Fumbling around / In the dark" The way Peter sings this sounds so hopeful and sad at the same time. It's interesting to know this line was written way, way back. Like, this song was apparently one of the first ever songs they demoed. The demo is a lot more frantic and less romantic but jesus christ. The way Peter sings it now it's like he knows that was just an unconscious self-fulfilling prophecy. Like, no, they absolutely were left in the dark, hurting each other over and over and not being able/willing to place blame or to communicate. Except now, in 2015, they're not anymore. (and especially not now in 2021). But it's also another desire for comfort. Like, Peter's offering the comfort here. But he's also just confessed the power to hurt that Carl has. So this is also a "are you going to offer me comfort the way I've offered it to you?" sort of question.

And then there's the solo which. Woof. It feels like a response to Peter's words. Like reaching out with sound. Like a shoulder-squeeze or a hug in response, something nonverbal that’s really trying to catch up and match up to the intense emotions in the words. The music crescendos and the solo is literally waves of notes that roll up and down and up and then it crashes down but lands so softly at the feet of the chorus.

And then we have equal footing, sort of (and Carl as Jesus again). Carl is still Peter's Waterloo, his ultimate defeat (or his place of comfort). But now Peter is Carl's Calvary. Which is the place where Jesus was crucified. Peter’s been offering comfort to Carl, but suddenly Peter has power over Carl. It's like...veneration and threat at once. Carl's Jesus, the savior, but also if he doesn't love Peter, Peter has the power to crucify him (or at least threatens to have that power). Or it's another portent: Carl could be Peter's savior, except that everything falls apart and Carl ends up hurt instead. They both end up hurt instead. So then they're on equal footing.

Which brings them to the "Well I'm so glad we know just what to do," which feels a little sadder but also a little more confident than the other two. The answer is in the "Everyone's gonna be happy / But of course." They need to work to figure out how to make each other happy, how to be comfort rather than hurt. It's not that simple. It never is. The "But of course" is a sarcy acknowledgement of how difficult that actually is. But it's also that sort of quiet hopefulness that yeah, maybe soon we'll figure it out and everyone will be happy and will get to say "of course I'm happy" about it.

#i also did one for the Heart Of The Matter video if people are interested #the libertines #peter doherty #carl barat #apologies to the people who have been in this fandom for ages i apparently like diving straight into the deep end #when i get to a subject I like to learn EVERYTHING about it and totally immerse myself very quickly #i've known the basics of the libs story for a while now just from being into mildly related bands #and liking Peter's lyrics enough to research them a bit #but when i get into something new i do all the research on it as quickly and intensely as i can #also i'm just having fun #analyzing literature/lyrics/etc is what i like doing for fun #(PS I do most of my Libertines blogging on my other blog jesuisgourde)

61 notes · View notes

keelywolfe · 3 years

Text

FIC: Drifters ch.7 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Edge and Red have a brotherly dispute. It goes great.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge had gone long nights without sleep before. As a child, he’d often spent the night curled up with his brother in hidden corners and caves, struggling for any measure of warmth beneath threadbare blankets as they both kept half-awake listening for any telltale footsteps coming their way.

As an adult, he often stayed awake on his own accord. There was always work to be done, whether for the guard or simple housekeeping, and he subsisted on no more than four hours of sleep a night. It was sufficient to replenish his magic and that was all that was necessary. Armed with that knowledge, it made it very difficult to understand why caring for an infant throughout a single night seemed so much worse.

Every two hours, she woke crying for a bottle, with enough accuracy he could nearly set a clock by it. It would start with a whimper and before Edge could even throw back the blankets, her screams would reach their peak earsplitting volume. Even Stretch couldn’t sleep through those wails and the first two times, he’d been the one to stagger downstairs for a bottle. Edge was certain on the last occasion he never opened his eye sockets, and he was torn on whether teleporting in the midst of exhaustion was more or less a danger than the chance he might fall down the stairs.

Rather than test that theory, Edge went to heat the bottle the next time and if he’d thought trying to comfort the baby while waiting for her meal to arrive was difficult, standing over a pot of water trying to will it to heat faster was somehow worse. At least he could attempt to reason with a baby, physics obeyed no rules but their own.

Each time she would drain the bottle and then immediately fall back asleep. The logistics of it were so simple, retrieve bottle, feed baby, then back to sleep. She didn’t even require a diaper change like so many other infants would, so why was this so blasted exhausting. His current belief was that somehow her cry drained energy like some sort of localized version of a vampiric spell and next time he was determined to run a check on himself to ascertain the truth.

But that would have to wait until they’d all gotten some rest. After her last bottle, not only had the chore of washing it out immediately after use been abandoned, so had tucking her into her own bed. In his sleep-deprived state, Edge decided that if she slept by the wall with him between her and Stretch, then she would be safe from being squashed in the night. As a strategy it did work, for about an hour, until Stretch rolled over in his sleep, right off the edge of the mattress to the floor with a loud thump and a louder curse.

Edge managed to wake up enough to check that he hadn’t accidently dusted himself in the fall and then promptly fell back asleep. The child hadn’t woken, that was the important part, and he could only hope that sleeping children didn’t learn foul language through some form of mental osmosis.

When he woke again, it wasn’t to the baby’s cries, but a stream of artificial sunlight coming through the curtains to fall across his face. He cringed away from it, but it was too late. The light was like the angel’s finger poking him directly in the socket, the time for sleep was over, and now he needed to face the harsh light of day.

A bleary look to one side found the bed empty and what remained of the blankets looked as if a tornado struck, not of trash, but one made up of baby’s tears.

Edge peered over the side of the mattress to find Stretch still snoring on the floor. Sleep was perhaps a less accurate description than out cold, he looked as if an alarm clock set atop his skull wouldn’t wake him. On the floor under his mouth was a darkened patch of drool, he was half-tangled in one of the blankets with one bare leg sprawled out across the carpet, toes curling against the cool air, and he did not stir one single inch despite the loudly creaking bedsprings. Plus, the light couldn’t reach him down there. Edge allowed himself a brief instant of rueful resentment before rolling to the other side to deal with the child, who over the course of the evening dwindled from Stretch affectionately calling her a ‘little snow princess’ down to the simply ‘the kid’.

“It’s all right, child, he’ll do better after some rest,” Edge said blearily…to no one at all. The sheet next to him was empty and for a moment, Edge only stared at it uncomprehendingly, cold panic slowly settling in his soul at the unbearable nightmare that was unfolding before him. That Alphys had found them out and come for her, the machine not destroyed enough and instead the portal was lying wide open like a gaping wound as not one, but an army of Underfell Monsters came through.

He shook away that fear before it could take root, dismissing it as impossible. To begin with, her first step would have been to murder them as they slept. Casting aside that panic only allowed a new one to take its place, the mystery of ‘then where is she’ still unanswered.

She was too young to have crawled away, she was nowhere in the room, so that left one last possibility. Edge clambered out of the bed, stepping over Stretch’s prone body as he jerked on the bathrobe and headed out to find his brother.

Who was sitting peaceably on the sofa with his pilfered infant settled contentedly in his lap, staring up at him with wide sockets as her chubby cheek bones puffed out with every suck on her bottle.

Red didn’t even look up as Edge stormed down to stand in front of him. The fury of his glares had never been able to penetrate much through Red’s aura of casual ease. His brother was humming softly, a song that Edge knew the lyrics to quite well and could at least be grateful that Red didn’t choose to share them with the child.

“’bout time you got up, bro,” Red said, singsong sweet. He was laying back against the sofa arm with the baby cradled between his knees. “you was sleepin’ pretty hard up there. kiddo was awake and getting’ ready to start complaining’ when i came in to play fetch.” His tone was easy, but Edge did not miss the sharp censure in his glance, crimson eye lights coolly assessing.

“I wouldn’t count on it happening again,” Edge said coldly. He met his brother’s gaze unflinchingly, waiting until his brother slowly nodded. Apology accepted, as it were, and Red turned his attention back to the baby.

“this little miss is a hungry one.” He gave the bottle an idle tug, grinning as the baby made a querulous noise and clung to it, never pausing in her urgent sucking. “drinks her weight and then some, don’t she. you were the same way, never could scrape up enough chow to keep you happy.” It was fondly said, but Edge only barely kept himself from wincing. He didn’t want to remember days of going hungry, the gnawing, endless emptiness inside his soul, wanted even less to picture the same thing happening to this child.

(never, never, he wouldn’t allow it, he would not)

“I doubt that will change anytime soon. Speaking of which, if you could watch over her, I’ll be going out today.”

“huh?” That got his brother’s attention. “what the fuck for?”

“To find a job of some sort, to begin with,” Edge said, “We can hardly expect the Swap brothers’ to keep paying our way.” He didn’t have the first clue what formula cost, but he suspected that it was not cheap.

“fuck, bro, we’ve been here two minutes and you’re already polishin’ your resume?” Red groaned. “take a day to get settled in, fer cryin’ out loud!”

“There’s no time for that. I was also going to go to the librarby to find a book on childrearing—”

He broke off as Red hooted a harsh laugh. “you serious, bro? you think you’re gonna find an old copy of ‘what to expect with your skele-baby’s first year’? gonna set up some training time with the local moms, mebbe they can teach you their special parenting attacks. you’ll be captain of the childrearing guild in no time, bro, better start working on your uniform now.”

“You—” Edge began and couldn’t continue, only stood listening mutely as his brother’s laughter soured, his words going bitter.

“think i fucked up that bad with you, is that it?”

It wasn’t at all true. He knew very well that his brother did the best he could, he’d been a child himself, he never should have had to help with an infant. He knew that, they both did, but the words refused to come. Before either of them could say another word, spiteful or otherwise, another voice entered the fray, sleep-sodden and mellow.

“you two loud enough down here?” From upstairs and Edge looked up to see Stretch ambling down the stairs, still yawning and rubbing at his sockets. He was only wearing a pair of shorts, the rest of his lanky bones on display from the crown of his skull to his bare toes, and he had no right to look as simply attractive as he did despite the darkened crescents beneath his sockets.

“sorry, sleeping beauty,” Red snorted, “next time we’ll work on our charades instead, how’s this ta start?”

Stretch ignored Red’s upraised middle finger, slouching closer to peer at the baby. “where did the jammies come from?”

Red jerked his head towards the front door where a paper sack was slumped by the various shoes. “your doggo pal dropped off some clothes. didn’t seem to know what to make of me, think maybe he decided blue went for a big fashion change.”

“bet he’ll appreciate hearing about going goth at the next sentry meeting.”

The mention of pajamas made Edge take a closer look at the child. He’d been so relieved to see the baby was safe that he hadn’t even noticed her change in apparel. She looked like a proper baby now, from the cozy footie pajamas to the colorful bib around her neck. The bottle was long since empty, but she hadn’t yet surrendered on the off chance that perhaps a few last drops might yet make an appearance.

Stretch didn’t wait for her to give up on it and simply took it away, scooping her up despite Red’s disgruntled protests, and cuddled her close. “lookin’ good, sugar butt!”

He buzzed a wet, noisy kiss against her cheek bone and she squealed in delight, then hiccoughed, a dribble of milk running from her mouth that dripped down to stain the bib. “uh huh, like that is it, everybody is a critic.” He swung her gently around and Edge automatically took her as Stretch deposited her into his arms, “here, edgelord, the princess needs a bath.”

A bath. That much was certainly true after a restlessness night of milky dribbles.

Edge didn’t move, he only held her uncertainly, shuffling his feet as he reluctantly admitted, “I don’t know how.”

“it’s easy,” Stretch yawned, his spine popping as he raised both arms over his head with a groan, “just bend over. you’ll have to handle it, you’re young and flexible, my back is talking to me like a bowl of rice krispies. wash her like you’d wash your feet. not too hot on the water and there’s bubble bath under the sink. go easy on it or it’ll be like trying to grab a greased watermelon in an ice storm.”

With that direction, Stretch only stared at him expectantly. There was nothing he could say, no protest to be made, and Edge turned on his heel and went back upstairs to the bathroom. He stood by the empty tub, looking down at the baby in his arms. She looked back at him, her thumb firmly in her mouth and her eye lights wide and bright.

So small and delicate, her skull small enough to fit in the cup of his hand. A tiny being composed of fragile bones, it would be entirely too easily for some careless fool to accidentally hurt her. Even if they didn’t mean to, even if they were only trying to help.

He couldn’t do this.

Edge lurched around, heading out the door and ready to call down to Stretch to admit his uselessness when heard his brother’s voice.

“…tryin’ to tell me how to deal with my bro?” So dangerously soft, a warning rarely given for their intended recipient to take care with whatever they said next.

“actually, no, i’m not,” Stretch said. There was a creak of springs as if he’d settled to sit on the sofa. “i wouldn’t do that to you guys. it’s just, he’s not used to all this, so go easy on him, will you? he’s trying really damned hard, he doesn’t need you ragging on him right now about the kid. he thinks the world of you, you gotta know that. so bust his chops about anything else, the baby is off limits. please.”

He couldn’t see downstairs, so he could only imagine what expression was on Stretch’s face that would be enough to make his brother grumble out, “yeah, yeah, honey bun, i get it. lay off until he lands on his feet.”

“thank you. he’s got this, you know. his confidence only took a shake, happens to everyone when they take a step or two out of the comfort zone. give him a little time, he’ll be a whiz. lining up for his best dad coffee mug before we know it.”

“eh, he’s already doing pretty good, ain’t he,” Red said with obvious pride. Edge closed his sockets, swallowing against the sudden thickness in his throat as he listened. “shoulda seen him bustin’ up that lab, kid never hesitated. just grabbed up the little miss and started wreckin’ the joint.”

“i bet. sorry i missed it.” Stretch said, sincerely, and if there was a certain dark satisfaction in those words, it was certainly understandable.

In his arms, the baby began to squirm, and Edge hastily slipped back into the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind them. He settled the baby on the bathmat and turned on the taps, adding a single capful of bubble bath and cautiously checking the temperature before kneeling at her side.

“Ready for a bath?” he asked her, already working to gently strip off her pajamas.

He took her gabbling squeal as a yes and if he, and the bathroom, were nearly as wet as she was by the time she was scrubbed clean, well, that was fine. He’d do better next time.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #drifters

32 notes · View notes

carryonmywaywardwriters · 4 years

Text

One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: It’s been a while. My days off were spent with writing rather than posting. Now? It’s time to catch up a bit. Have an edited version of a story I’d only just begun getting into before I’d left Tumblr at the beginning of the year. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Also, this is NOT hate against Danneel. It’s a piece of fiction using real humans as the base. There will be NO negativity against her, the Ackles family, or anything tolerated here.

Upcoming Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Angst. Death. Grieving process. Upcoming smut. Age Gap. And more. Each chapter will be labeled accordingly.

Word Count: Roughly 3,700

“How's he holding up?” Genevieve Padalecki was an actual goddess as she sat across from you in the sunken living room. A loose, white tee paired with ripped jeans while resting on the navy blue couch. Even as drawn and tired as she appeared in that moment, beneath the LeMay hummingbird art, she was incredible. Somehow held mostly together even with the circumstances in front of her. You yearned for that kinda strength.

“He's been trying to smile... Laugh for the kids.” You answered quietly, not wanting to wake the napping children. Or, the resting widower. As if your voice could carry that far in the massive home. But, it was the first bit of real sleep any of them had gotten since the nightmare had begun. You wouldn't chance it. They needed all the rest that they could muster. “It's falling short...but he's trying.” Your own tired eyes met the red rimmed dark orbs in front of you. “How about you and Jared?” She shook her head, slowly. Her actress's facade crumbling all at once.

“God, I miss her.” The once smooth voice cracked as she fought back the tears. Finally giving into the grief a little. “So...so much...It hasn't even been two weeks, yet, Y/N.” She looked so broken. So defeated. “How am I supposed to survive the rest of my life without my best friend?”

You wanted to give an answer. Wanted to be able to tell her it got better. But, you couldn't. It'd be a lie. Nothing was better in a world without the sunny smile the Mrs. Ackles had bestowed, undoubtedly, every time you turned around.

“I ask myself that question almost every second of everyday.” Jensen's deep voice was ragged as he stood in the hallway. His hair was spiked from the tossing and turning he'd done while he'd tried to escape the reality of his new life. Your heart shattered again at the sight.

“Jens-”

“It's okay,” He was gruff, but not harsh as he cut Genevieve off. Too worn to even begin to try to be angry. His jeans and shirt were wrinkled. Beard untrimmed. Eyes red and glazed with grief. “We're going to be okay. Danneel...she'd want that.” If he said it enough, he might just believe it. “Kids still out?” You could only nod. A lump too large for words to pass rested in your throat.“Good.” His head bobbed with that. As if in a trance. “I'm gonna take a walk...head down to the lake.”

He didn't ask if anyone would watch them. That's what you were there for. His pockets were filled with his beefy hands, and then he was gone as quickly as he'd come.

“I don't know if I can stay here.” You uttered when he was out of hearing range; tossing your hand through your tangled hair. Somehow even more ragged from the brief interaction.

It was all too much. He needed assistance with the twins and J.J. You knew that. But, it was terrifying having to face the grieving process head on. To feel the weight of a love lost residing in the air. Having to stand up to it all while losing your friend in the process. Needing to try and fill the void that was left behind after the accident while holding an entire family together. Anyone would strain under that level of responsibility.

Running would be easier. That was a fact you couldn't seem to escape. It always had been. God knows you'd done it enough in your life. Everything inside of you begged you to take the chance. Flee. And yet...you hadn't quite gathered enough courage to actually try it. Leaving yourself in an odd sort of purgatory.

“He'll understand.” Gen didn't even bother to look back at you. Having latched onto an image of the deceased in the corner. A happy little number showing her and her children.

“Will he?” You didn't believe it. Not even a little. She wasn't there to see the worst of his grief. How alone he was. Your fingers ripped at a hangnail as you pondered over it all.

Jensen had lost his entire future. And with that? He'd lost his focus. The undying optimism he'd once held. His charming dash of humor. Maybe once, he'd have forgiven you walking away. But, not anymore. The kids, his job, and the brewery were overwhelming at the best of times. It was unmanageable even with the help, then. He needed you more than ever.

That's why you'd been hired, initially. To break up the load. Or, so Danneel had claimed. In reality? She'd held everything down just fine with a babysitter on the side. She'd just used it as an excuse to draw you in. Now? It was time to live up to the promise.

You were pulled out of your thoughts with a small sigh, “Even if he doesn't?” Your heart ached at the thought. “You have your own life, Y/N...it's your choice.” Her final words went straight to the point. Injuring you with the bluntness of it. “And if there's anything we learned from all this? Life is too short to fuck around with.”

With that, she took her leave. Needing to find some air. Get back into a head space to handle the other half of the grieving family she was returning to.

You craved the same escape. Instead, the twins appeared. Miniatures of their parents clad in Paw Patrol footie pajamas. Hair mused as they crawled into the comfort you could offer. Solemn, as if their young minds could fully grasp the idea of death. Hours later, JJ walked in the large wooden door. A deep frown etched onto the smooth lines of her face. Her bag dragging the ground as she and Jensen joined. The false cheer emitting from the booming voice only made the tension in the air increase. It was cloaking.

As the night went on, things grew worse. A tight hold on the back of your neck crept forward until your entire skull felt as if it was being crushed. Far from the first time. Zep didn't want the lasagna you'd made. His once ravenous appetite long gone. Justice Jay was trying to step up; telling him how he needed to eat. How her mom would have got him to, and that anyone who couldn't get the boy to wasn't trying hard enough. Arrow sat crying, too distraught to take even a bite.

Jensen had looked so damn lost while sitting in the tan backed kitchen bar-stool that you'd had no choice but to pull out a whistle. Danneel had used it during a girl scouts meeting months before. And then had brought it back around any time the family got to be too chaotic. Another brilliant idea from the lost soul.

Zep settled for a small, microwavable macaroni and cheese that had been reserved for emergencies. J.J was talked down, gently. Not taking away from her grief; simply bringing her back to a softer place. Arrow was able to eat on your lap; settling into the comfort of a woman's touch gladly. The widower watched in a daze. Being the only one in the room you hadn't needed to fix. Until you noticed that he wasn't eating. Leaving you to discard your plate even longer while you coaxed him into following his kids' lead.

Bed time didn't come nearly fast enough. Dishes with two toddlers flinging soapy water across the designer kitchen. Another night of fighting over homework with Justice. All you wanted to do was crawl into bed and never leave.

With a weary sigh, you left the room Arrow occupied to herself. Moving down the stairs as fast as you could to give yourself some distance. Slamming your hand through your hair all the while. Not sure how much longer you could go on, taking care of everyone. You never had time to process. To breathe. God, how you wanted to breathe again.

Your back pressed against the wall after you hit the main floor. Utter relief filling your veins at the lack of noise. Slouching, you turned to look out at the darkened lake. Hoping the peace of it would trail to you. Only to shoot straight up seconds later as footsteps lumbered down the stairs.

“Thanks,” Jensen appeared, looking worse for the wear. Before you could even think to start, he continued, “Seriously, thanks. I don't...I don't know what I'd do...” His throat worked as emotion threatened to spill over. “I know we're a lot.” That was the understatement of the century.

“Jensen-”

“Don't try n' down play it, Y/N.” He kept going. As if he had no choice. Almost as if he could feel your desperation to run, and was trying to stop it. “We're a wreck, right now. But, you? You make...make it a little less chaotic.” His eyes were watery as he talked. The dam threatening to spill over. Guilt snaked through you at the words. And then he pulled out the last batch of words you wanted to hear. “You're a lot like her. You know that?”

“I don't want to...to take her place,” Your words were garbled as you swallowed the emotion. Terrified that you'd be trapped into the empty space she left behind. Breaking all the while. “I don't...I don't want to just step into the role.” Your own eyes watered as you aired your fears. Gasping for some kind of air. “I don't know how...how to play mom full time. Or step in as the pretend wife of a TV star. I can't even take care of myself. That's why she brought me here.” The emotional fall had been doomed to show up, eventually. You simply hadn't expected it to be so soon. Or so in his face. But, that didn't stop the tirade of emotion leaving your lips. “I want her back, too. I want her to walk...walk back through the door, like every time she's left. To thank me for looking out for you guys... T..tell me how strong I was for holding down the fort... until she got back.”

Because that's the kind of woman she was. She'd loved her family. Her friends. Her careers. And most of all, life. She'd built everyone up. Having her gone had tore them all down.

A tear trailed down your face as you realized Jensen was openly crying. Silent as the water ran down both cheeks. Drop after drop as he fought back a sob. You comprehended then, the enormity of what you'd done.

“Y/N-”

“I'm sorry!” Cutting him off, you tried to find something to say. Anything else. But, words escaped you again. A gasp left your lips when he brought his hands up to your arms, but you didn't have a chance to pull away. He tugged you close. Breaking you further. His arms encompassed you as you both cried deeply. Letting out everything you'd held back since you'd gotten the call about the accident. “I'm...I'm s...so...s...sorry.” You hiccuped into his chest. No longer feeling the need to be strong. His own body shook as he tried to settle back down. “I'm...I'm such a...such a bitch.”

“You're a good friend.” He breathed out in a broken sigh when he could finally gain enough composure to take a step back. But, he didn't break the contact. Needing the sense of closeness as his world spun. “She would have been...she would have proud of you, you know.” You lost it again at that one. Thinking back to the day that had wrecked all of your lives.

Danneel had been going to the brewery. Just as she had everyday. She should have come back. She should have never have been found on the side of the road. A hit and run. The bastard who was guilty had yet to be found.

“I'm sorry,” You pulled away from his grasp completely that time. Wiping at your face clumsily. Snot plugged up your nose. Your cheeks were stained from the tears. “What I said...I didn't mean it.”

“You did.” Jensen stated easily, falling back onto the closest couch. His head resting in his hands. “That's okay, though.”

“It's not.” Your eyes landed on the image from the wedding that rested on the coffee table as you dropped beside him. It was the closest you two had been in the entire time you'd known each other. Picking it up, you looked closer. Basking in the bit of joy that still resided inside the walls of the home. “She was beautiful.” Your thumb stroked over the image. “And, funny. Smart as a whip.” You'd thought you were all dried out, but another piece of water made its way down your face. “It was hard to not fall in love with the energy she put out there.” Gen had said Danneel had been her best friend. She'd been yours, too. Even though you'd only held her in your life a short time. “She saved me from myself...did you know that?”

“Kinda,” He answered carefully. His own eyes drawn to the ten year old image. “She never gave me the full details.” He leaned in closer, the pad of his finger brushing away the small piece of dust that gathered in the corner. “She just told me that you needed help...and to pretend that she did.”

“That sounds like her,” You whispered, your lips tugging up in a lopsided smile. Thankful to the ghost in the room. “I'd been kicked out of my boyfriend's place. He got bored, or something. I really haven't figured out the 'why' if I'm being honest with myself. Can't even remember why I was with him.” Your hand came back up to wipe against your face as your mind trailed back. You'd lived down the road. Only for a week or two. A perfect stranger. Your bag had hit the grass as she walked by with the twins. A daily stroll turned into more. She'd watched as you stared at the door in disbelief after it slammed shut. “She asked me if I was okay. I lied and said I was...she didn't believe me.”

“She's...She was good at that.” He caught himself trying to keep her in the present. You didn't bring attention to it. Didn't want to hurt him anymore than you already had.

“Dee didn't think twice. Packed me up and took me to a motel. Took my phone number to check in...” If you tried hard enough, you could still remember her holding out her phone. A simple smile on her face as she waited for you to do as told. Knowing you'd cave. You hadn't expected her to really call. Had been oddly relieved when she had. “I had trouble finding work, so she offered a place at the brewery. I didn't know how to take that kind of an offer.”

“Now that you mention it...” His head dropped to the back of the couch as he got more comfortable. Eyes closed as he traveled back in time mentally. “I remember that,” He looked a little lighter as he thought back to his wife. The frustrated call he'd received while on set about the woman who 'needed to come to terms' with Danneel's assistance. “The more you resisted, the more sure she was that she was going to help you out.”

“She used the twins.” Not that you'd complained. They were great. You'd spent hours making faces, drawing pictures, and the works with two of the sweetest children you'd ever met. “She was working on handling the paperwork, and asked me to play with them for a bit. Reeled me in like a fish.”

It had started with one day, with food as your payment. Then, it was for a few hours daily for food and some cash. Next thing you knew, you were in a small guesthouse they'd added to property. It had been the beginning of the best six months of your life. Helping with the kids, the brewery, and animals. You'd gotten a side job, but your notice had gone in as soon as you'd been able to. Jensen had needed all the help he could get with Danneel gone.

“Do you regret it?”

“She gave me a whole new life,” You sighed out, not quite answering the question. Looking at the animated face that rested in the frame. “And instead of being able to hold up? I break in half of a month...” Shame coursed through you.

“To be fair,” His voice was scratchy, “we're all a bit broken right now, Y/N...” No truer words had been spoken.

“What do we do, Jensen?” Your head rested against the back of the couch as he took the frame. Wishing like hell he could travel back to the day encased in ink, you were sure.

“We take it one day at a time,” It's all he knew how to do. Nothing else made sense. It was all too unpredictable. “It's hiatus...We don't have to worry about the show, for a few months. For now?” He tapped the glass, “For now, I'm going to take care of her babies.” The determined, pained note in his voice made your chest ache. “I know that I haven't been helping much-”

“Don't...” Letting him tear himself down wasn't something you could stand. “You're doing better than anyone would dream.” Your hand reached over and squeezed his. Offering a bit of comfort. Not knowing how else to handle it all. “Take care of yourself, too...Eat. Try to sleep. Take your time to clear your head.”

“You could stand to do that, yourself, Y/N...” He swallowed tightly. His own guilt raising its head. He'd been so stuck inside his own mind that he'd missed all the warning signs. How slow you moved. Raw pain lining your features. All of it amplified by how long it had been ignored. “Go... get some sleep. We can start looking for someone else to take over, tomorrow...if that's what you really want.”

With that, he led himself to his room. Leaving you to rest on the couch. Trying to decide if that's what you really needed.

–

“Morning, sleepy,” You whisked the batter. Working to get it as smooth as you could. Zeppelin rubbed his eyes deeply. The green dinosaur pajamas seemed shorter than they'd been the night before. He was growing fast. He'd need more soon. “Blueberries in your pancakes?” A tired nod was your answer as Arrow trailed behind in her favorite Elsa covered nightgown. “Chocolate chips?” Another sleepy, head bob followed. Justice Jay wasn't quite as easy. She was filled with seven year old independence. Ignoring the clothes you'd set out the night before in a way that only a strong headed child could. Instead, donning herself in a purple top with yellow leggings. Her hair, all but the back, brushed neatly. “Strawberries?”

“I can do it,” Her eyes turned up to look into yours. Demanding independence. After all, she was woman of the house, now.

You simply nodded, handing over a bowl of batter and the strawberries she wanted. They were pre-cut. All she had to do is mix the two together. You even let her flip them; feeling more than generous. It was the weekend, after all. And she needed to feel in control of something. Her mood increased slowly, but surely. Maybe I'm onto something...

“Smells good,” Jensen's lips smacked as he walked into the room, as you served up the first round of food.

His casual clothes were less wrinkled than the day before. He seemed more alert. Less like a bottle waiting to explode. The crying, despite how much everyone hated it, was good at clearing some of the pain. At least, enough to make everyone semi-functional.

“Good,” You gestured as you poured a bit of batter from each bowl onto the griddle. “Eat.”

“What about you?” His brows snapped together.

Gone was the mess he'd witnessed the night before. Mostly. The bags still rested beneath your eyes- something he hadn't noticed until tears had caught on them. However, he couldn't help but to zero in on every detail.

“I'll eat in a minute. I'm almost done.” The spatula waved his way. Killing any hope of him taking over. “Now, you eat.”

“Yes, ma'am,” He grumbled, sitting down with his children. Muttering about you being a bully to earn little giggles.

Slowly their personalities began emerging for what felt like the first time in forever. Zep was making zooming noises as he splashed his plane shaped- or as close to it as you could replicate- pancake into his syrup. Arrow was humming to herself, kicking her feet. Spreading more than enough butter across her crown shaped breaded breakfast- princesses were her current favorite thing. Dark hair bouncing on her head as she moved. Little J. Bird was telling her daddy about the animals they'd seen on their school outing the day before. And Jensen? He was enthralled. Giving her every bit of the attention she needed.

Your lips tugged up as you pictured Danneel watching over her family in the back. Her little content smile resting on her face as she looked at all of those she loved. She'd be leaning against the counter, ankles crossed with a headband holding back the hair that escaped her bun. Happy as a lark.

With a deep breath, you walked over to the table with the second plate to ensure that everyone got their helpings. When Jensen's eyes met yours again, he mouthed 'thank you'. You sent back a 'you're welcome' quietly before turning back to Zeppelin as he let out a mini roar, seeking the attention on him. In that moment, you understood. You weren't going anywhere...

Part Two

@winchester-ofthe-lord

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger @lilulo-12 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

#supernatural #SPN #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #Supernatural angst #spn angst #jensen #jensen ackles #jensen fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x you #jensen x y/n #jensen x you

273 notes · View notes

nocturnal-jeon · 5 years

Text

𝚋𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 ➛𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔

Kim Seokjin

The day seemed normal. You were at work and Jin was spending his day off at home, relaxing and cleaning up a bit, doing some of the chores you almost always did by yourself when he was gone. With some light music playing throughout the speakers in the house, Jin hummed to himself as he put the second load of clothes into the washing machine. Just as he turned the dial and started it, he heard his phone begin to ring.

Jogging over to the bedroom, Jin picked his phone off of the stripped bed and answered it. “Hello?” he spoke, not knowing who was calling him. “Good morning. Is this y/s/n’s father, Seokjin?” a female voice spoke on the other line. “Yes. Is everything okay? Is y/s/n okay?” Jin asked, a bit worried now since he never really got calls from the school regarding his son.

“Well, it’s not really something to worry about but he has a fever of 100.4, and since it is higher than we’re lawfully allowed to have at school, I’m going to need you to come pick him up.” Jin nodded. As soon as she said what his fever was, Jin was already sliding his feet into his shoes.

“Of course. I’ll be there.” Hanging up the phone, Jin jogged downstairs and hustled to the car, driving as fast as he could to the school. Your son was Jin’s best friend since the day they made eye contact. He was only in preschool, yet Jin had thousands of plans for the two of them to pursue together.

Practically running into the building and into the nurse's room, Jin’s heart dropped when he heard soft little coughs from one of the beds. Moving the curtains aside, Jin nearly fell to his knees as he saw his son, his little pink backpack and stuffed bear in hand, sitting there with tired eyes.

“Daddy!” y/s/n said excitedly, though Jin could tell he was tired. Picking up his little boy, Jin placed small, loving kisses on his head. “Let’s get you home, alright?” Jin whispered, causing your son to nod.

It was a bit later now and your son had been napping all day. Both you and Jin were at home relaxing, and Jin figured that a brownie might help your son feel better. So, with a glass of milk and a brownie on a napkin, Jin went upstairs to your son's room. The sound of breaking glass startled you, so you ran up the stairs and straight to your son’s room, where the sound emitted.

Jin was hovered over your son, his large hand on his forehead as Jin frantically yet gently shook your son. “Jinnie, what’s wrong?” you asked, extremely worried at this point. “He’s sweating so much and his head is burning hot. Baby, what’s wrong with him?” Jin asked. Worried sick.

With no response, you ran into your son’s adjoining bathroom and wet a towel, running back into his room to put it over your son’s forehead. Unknowing tears flowed out of your husband’s eyes.

“He’s okay, Jin. He’s going to be okay. His fever has gone down a little, thankfully, but this is just chills,” you explained, rubbing Jin’s back with one hand as the other held the towel against his head.

Sniffling, Jin nodded. You excused yourself to go use the restroom, but by the time you came back, you smiled when you saw Jin scrunched up in your son’s small bed as he held his child, humming some song you didn’t know as he rocked his small body.

Jin took a few days off of work and made your son homemade chicken soup, tea. Anything. And though his son was sick, Jin bonded with him, too, as they watched movies all day and dressed up into silly costumes.

Min Yoongi

Yoongi had planned one of his rare free weekends to consist of sex with you, late night ice cream trips with his daughter, and sleep. That’s all he wanted to pack into a mere two days. And damnit, Yoongi worked hard to make it work.

One of the first things he planned to do was spend some much needed time with you. And as soon as Yoongi came back from putting your daughter to sleep, he pinned your body to the bed, his pearly whites nibbling on the untouched skin of your neck. His hands roamed your body freely as you melted at his touch beneath him.

Just as his longing fingers clipped the hooks of your jeans and pulled them down to your ankles, the door to your bedroom opened. “Dada?” a soft voice belonging to an angel spoke. You scrambled to cover up your body as Yoongi’s head snapped around. Your small daughter stood in the doorway of the bedroom as she sucked on her thumb.

“Yes, baby girl?” Yoongi asked, flashing you an apologetic look before making his way over to his daughter. She stood in her footy pajamas as her thumb remained fixated in her small mouth. Slowly taking it out with a string of saliva coming out, too, she said in a quiet voice, “I made a mess.”

“Did you pee the bed?” Yoongi asked, tilting his head to the side. She shook her head. “What mess then, baby?” he asked, purely confused. As her clean hand latched onto Yoongi’s pointer and middle finger, she led her father down the hall and into her room. His nose identified the mess first, but he knew she was embarrassed, so he acted as if it was nothing when he entered a smelly room with vomit all over the bed. Turning to look at his daughter, he rubbed her head.

“That’s okay, baby. If you need to throw up again, tell me, okay?” She nodded. This went against everything that Yoongi believed in, but for his immense love for his daughter, he gathered her sheets and held them away from his body as he jogged downstairs to the washing machine. After putting in way too much detergent, his feet ran up the stairs as he heard a call from you, thick with worry.

He entered your shared bedroom and nearly hit his head against the wall when he saw yet another puddle of vomit on his bedroom floor. But, he didn’t want your daughter to feel even more embarrassed. Getting up and walking over to him, you whispered in his ear: “I think you should take her to the hospital. Just to be sure. I’ll clean up and come join you later.” He admired how strong and calm you remained in situations like this, so he nodded.

“Baby, let’s go take a trip to see the doctors. Alright? Here, put on your coat,” Yoongi gently said as he went to get her small coat and helped her put it on. Picking up her small body, Yoongi carried her to the car. And though he remained calm on the outside for the sole purpose of keeping his daughter calm, bombs of worry and stress erupted within his body.

He remained calm throughout her check up, and when the doctor reported she had a violent case of food poisoning, he nodded silently. You knew her body was in pain, but just like her father, she was able to mask it. You entered the hospital room to see your daughter resting on top of Yoongi’s body, a bucket resting beside him in case she got sick again. You situated yourself on the side of the bed, sitting comfortably in your pajamas as you reached over and held Yoongi’s hand.

He smiled and pulled it up to his face to place a long kiss on the back of it.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” Yoongi whispered. You gave a small smile and shook your head. “I know you’re preoccupied at the moment,” you began as your eyes darted over to your daughter's sleeping body, “but she comes first.”

Yoongi nodded in agreement. “My baby girl,” he whispered, kissing her head softly. “You’ll be okay, baby.” He rubbed her back and remained in that hospital room with her for the week she was hospitalized. He never left, not even to get food. His eyes were on her and on her only.

Kim Namjoon

Namjoon was on the last leg of his tour when his manager got the call. It was a mere ten minutes before the show began and Namjoon’s manager debated whether or not to tell the already-stressed leader. Namjoon went back to the dressing room to calm himself down as he usually did by himself.

A knock at the door certainly annoyed Namjoon, but when he opened the door to find the worried face of his manager, his demeanor softened. “What’s wrong?” Namjoon asked. As the manager slowly explained how his practically infant child was in the children’s ICU with pneumonia, Namjoon nearly died right then and there.

“I have to go. I can’t do this right now,” Namjoon said quickly as he stood up and began to walk towards the door so he could break the news to the members. “Wait, Namjoon, it’s five minutes till the show. Think through this,” his manager said as he grabbed Namjoon’s shoulder, to which Namjoon harshly pushed it away. “There’s no thinking to be done,” Namjoon spat. He didn’t mean to be rude, but his mind was going at a million miles per hour.

Quickly, he left the room and explained his absence to the members. They completely understood and prepared a message to share with the fans once they were out on stage. Buying a plane ticket at godspeed and making his way to the airport without his things, seeing no time to go back to the hotel to pack, Namjoon anxiously waited on the plane, his knee bouncing up and down as fear rumbled its way through his system.

Your son was only 15 months old, his body not strong enough to fight off such a violent illness.

It was 3am when Namjoon landed back in South Korea, but it didn’t matter. The streets were empty and Namjoon took advantage of that, speeding his way through the streets to make it to the hospital as if time was running out. Running inside like an idiot, Namjoon practically screamed at the nurses to figure out where the children’s ICU was. And after being given directions, he ran through the halls to a sectioned off area.

It was silent, all except for the crying of parents in various rooms. But a certain sob sounded eerily familiar. Peeking into one of the rooms, he saw your hunched over figure on the floor beside your son’s crib. “Baby..” he mumbled, at a loss of words at the scene in front of him. You turned to look at him with tear-stained cheeks and red eyes. You gathered the strength to walk over to him, only to collapse in his arms.

Namjoon held you as your knees buckled, catching your body before it hit the tiled floor. Your body shook with each sob as Namjoon held your head against his chest, your ocean of tears soaking through your shirt. As he held you tightly, his tear-filled eyes looked over at his son. Seemingly hundreds of tubes were connected to his small body, breaking Namjoon’s heart into even smaller pieces.

“He was fine. He was sleeping,” you quickly said, looking into Namjoon’s eyes. “I’m not mad. I’m not, I swear baby. It’s okay. What have the doctors said?” he asked, rubbing your head. “They said it’s bad, but they can’t tell how bad. They’re giving him medicine and stuff but they said we just have to wait,” you explained calmly before falling back into a mess of tears.

Kissing your head repeatedly, Namjoon rubbed your back and gently walked you over to a chair and helped you sit down, grabbing the second tissue box next to the empty one and placing it on your lap.

Namjoon then turned his attention to his small son. His large hand cradled his head as his thumb rubbed his forehead. “Hey little guy. Daddy’s here now. I shouldn’t have left you and mommy all alone. I’m so sorry,” Namjoon whispered as tears dripped onto his hand.

You stood up and rested your head on his back, placing a soft kiss in between his shoulder blades. “You have an important job, Joon. It’s okay,” you whispered. He harshly shook his head.

“Being his father and your husband is far more important,” Namjoon said. Never again will he put his job before his family. Never again will he leave you alone during the hardest part in your lives. Never again.

Namjoon went on a hiatus after this experience. Your son eventually healed and became the bubbly little toddler he was before, but Namjoon stayed at home for the majority of the year, making memories with both you and your son and protecting what meant most to him. His little family.

i was in my namjoon feelings. don’t come for me

Jung Hoseok

It was a calm weekend during the summer and Hoseok was taking care of your son alone for a week as you went out of the country to visit your parents who had retired abroad. And they were having the best time. Hoseok and his son would go out everyday either to the beach or the park. Y/s/n had always been a momma’s boy, but Hoseok saw this week as a time to bond with his son.

“Hey, baby, how are my favorite boys?” your cheery voice chirped into the phone. His heart warmed at the sound of your voice. “Don’t freak out, okay?” Hoseok gently warned into the phone. Your stomach dropped. “Hoseok, what is it? What’s wrong?” you asked, the pep in your voice gone.

However, he never expected it to be in the ER. What started out as a cough turned into a rough case of strep throat. Your son’s usually chirpy voice came out harsh and forced. Hoseok turned to look at his son as he stood in the hallway and waited for you to pick up the phone.

“Y/s/n has a bad case of strep, so they’re keeping him in the hospital overnight for observation, but it’s nothing antibiotics can’t fix,” Hoseok explained, resulting in a gasp to echo through the phone. “I’m coming home right now,” you quickly said. “No, no. Enjoy the time with your parents. You’ll be home in three days and we’ll still be here by then,” Hoseok reasurred you. You sighed, knowing he was right.

“Update me constantly, okay?” you said, still feeling a bit uneasy. “Always, darling,” Hoseok responded. The two of you talked for a few more minutes about all the things you’ve done before hanging up. Your son looked up at Hoseok, bored already with all of the toys the hospital provided. Hoseok let out a deep chuckle.

“Hey, I have an idea I think you’ll like,” he told his son before disappearing for a mere two minutes. He came back with a wheel chair, which caused your son to grow confused. After being lifted and placed in it, Hoseok said excitedly, “Let’s go on a candy run.” And so, Hoseok ran through the halls, pushing his five year old son in the wheelchair as they visited each floor, picking out the best candy options from each vending machine, adding them to a growing pile on your son’s lap.

And since Hoseok was in no way going to leave your son alone in the hospital, he somehow fit into the hospital bed with his son and watched one of the many movies the hospital provided as they devoured all of their earnings. And since your son wasn’t allowed to talk, the two bonded silently over their love for Nemo and green skittles.

Park Jimin

It was a rainy day and though you and your husband were tired from staying up all night with your restless newborn, the two of you now had to take care of your ill daughter, who could not sleep. Jimin was sympathetic towards you since it was a mere few days since you had given birth to his adorable son and now you’re daughter, who was three, had a cold.

If anyone walked into your house, they would have seen living ghosts given your appearances. You still had trouble getting around the house and there was seemingly no point in wearing a shirt since all your son wanted was your breastmilk. So, Jimin focused his attention on your small, sick daughter who had stuffy nose and a horrible cough.

And as a way to avoid the germs getting to your several day old son, Jimin took care of your daughter at the dorms. The other boys would much better fight off the cold than your son. So, it appeared to be movie night at the dorms with her favorite uncles.

Jin stood in the kitchen with a hot bowl of chicken noodle waiting at the table for your daughter, who sat in front of it, not wanting to eat any of it. With a cute pout on her lips, Jimin’s cute little daughter refused to eat. “You have to eat it. It’ll taste really good,” Jin pleaded, getting on his knees to reach her level, but still, he was a lot taller than her. Shaking her head, her arms crossed.

Sighing, Jin called out for Jimin, who immediately came.

“This little baby won’t eat, is that so?” Taehyung asked as he raised his eyebrow and grinned. Jin nodded. “Baby doll, you gotta eat so you can get stronger and feel better,” Jimin said as he picked her up and sat down in her place, sitting her on his lap. Still, she shook her head.

Picking up some of the warm liquid with the spoon and eating some of the soup, Jimin let out an overly dramatic sigh of content. “It’s soooo good, doll. You have to try some or I’ll eat it all,” Jimin said in the sweet voice he always used when talking to his daughter before dipping the spoon in again and eating more.

It was by the fourth spoon that your daughter began to speculate whether it was that good, so, as Jimin brought the fifth spoonful up to his lips, she wrapped her small hand around the handle of the spoon and redirected it to her mouth, slowly and unsurely eating the soup as she stared at Jimin with large eyes.

“Is it good?” Jimin asked, tilting his head to the side. She let it move around her mouth a bit before nodding slowly, hating to admit defeat. Jimin chuckled. “Do you want more?” Jimin asked. She nodded yet again. So, he dipped the spoon into the bowl and fed his daughter until the bowl was empty and his daughter was full.

And with that full belly, she fell asleep in her father’s arms during the movie, and quickly, thanks to Jin’s amazing cooking, she got stronger just as Jimin said she would and healed.

Kim Taehyung

It was Taehyung’s day to watch over your daughter since you had to work. She was getting over a small cold that she had gotten from a kid at school. And while she was recovering quickly due to her fighting spirit, she still had a few sniffles here and there. Taehyung had brought her to practice, which seemed like a good idea since your daughter would not allow Taehyung to leave her.

Tae’s daughter turned out to be just as clingy as her father, which you admired and Taehyung loved. Your daughter slept peacefully, her small three year old body hidden under a bundle of her favorite blankets. Her uncles glanced over at her every now and then, everyone taking responsibility in making sure she was comfortable as her dad worked his ass off.

Practice had gone on for a few hours and the boys were in the middle of the ‘Boy With Luv’ choreography when, with a fluffy pink blanket wrapped around your body, y/d/n walked over to the nearest member.

As Namjoon stood with his back to her, waiting for his signal to move, he felt a light tugging at the end of his long shirt. Turning his head, he saw the cutest little child looking up at him with big eyes before sneezing cutely. “Yes, cutie pie?” Namjoon said as he picked her up and sat her on his hip, completely missing his cue, which caused the attention of others to turn towards Namjoon.

“Look at my princess. She’s awake!” Taehyung practically squealed as he jogged towards her, the other members forming a circle. Resting her head on Namjoon’s broad shoulder, she looked at her uncles and dad with wide eyes. “How are you feeling?” Taehyung asked, his slender fingers rubbing her feet, tickling her. As her body shook with giggles, Tae felt at ease about her condition.

“Dress up,” she mumbled. “Hm?” Taehyung asked, confused. “Snow White princess,” she muttered. And thats when the idea of a Snow White themed dance practice entered the heads of the members.

Rummaging around for costumes, y/d/n followed her daddy around the dance practice room, one hand holding his and the other with her thumb stuck in her mouth. Tugging on his hand as a signal for him to pay attention to her, which worked, she looked up at him with big eyes.

“Daddy, you are Snow White,” she mumbled in her low voice. Bending down, his long fingers stroked her cheek. “You want me to be Snow White?” he asked, a grimace on his face. The little girl nodded excitedly, a small smile on her lips.

She always was on the quiet side, which she got from her and not her dad, but Taehyung was the best at being able to communicate with her. “As you wish, my princess,” he said.

And so, as Taehyung transformed into Snow White and her uncles transformed into the dorms, she sat on the couch in the corner, bundled up in blankets as per usual, as she watched with wide, excited eyes. Taehyung always knew how to make your daughter happy.

Jeon Jungkook

Your son and Jungkook had a relationship that was more or less a best friendship rather than that of a father and son duo. Your son was five and spent all the time he was allowed with his father. He would be running around with his uncles and dad backstage before shows or would be learning the choreography since, just like his father, dancing was one of his passions.

Y/s/n had acquired almost all of the characteristics that his father harnessed, which made your job as the only adult in the house more difficult.

It was a Saturday night, and after a night out with your son and husband, you figured everyone would crash and be sound asleep for the whole night. Well, you were oh so wrong. Jungkook was fast asleep in his bed, holding onto your sleeping figure as he heard the familiar sounds of his game console starting up downstairs.

Groaning as he turned around to look at the clock, he saw it was midnight and knew there was only one person who would be awake at this hour to play video games. His mini me.

Gently letting go of you and rolling out of bed, Jungkook quietly made his way downstairs, his large hands rubbing his tired eyes. There, he saw his little doppelganger sitting in the center of the couch, his spiderman pajamas on, as the loading screen for Mario Kart played on the screen.

“Jr, what are you doing up this late?” Jungkook asked. It was the little nickname he had for his son. His son’s head turned to look at him, the expression on his face like that of a deer caught in headlights. “Busted,” Jungkook said as he walked around the couch and sat next to his son. Jungkook was never the disciplinarian, so your son knew that he wasn’t about to get scolded.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Jungkook asked as he ruffled his son’s black hair. Sniffling, his son shook his head. “I don’t feel good,” his son admitted. Jungkook placed his hand on his son’s forehead, sighing when he felt how warm it was. “What hurts?” he asked, inquiring further. “My throat hurts and my nose is stuffy,” the little boy said, cutely leaning against his father.

“Well, your mom would disagree with me, but the best remedy to a cold is Mario Kart,” Jungkook said with a smirk, grabbing another remote and connecting it to the screen.

And though they tried to be silent, being competitive is in Jeon blood, so the two were loud and soon enough, woke you up. Getting out of bed and wrapping your robe around your body, you went downstairs and saw what you expected to see given the noise. A heated competition between your two children.

“And what’s going on here?” you suddenly said, your hands resting on your hips as their guilty faces turned to look at you. “It’s not what it looks like,” Jungkook said, getting up. You chuckled. “It looks like you two snuck downstairs and played games together, is that it?” you asked. Your son, who couldn’t put up as strong a front as your husband, shamefully nodded his head.

“Up to bed, now, please,” you requested. “Wait. I think he has a cold,” Jungkook said, his adult side coming back out again. Sighing to yourself, you went to take your son’s temperature and Jungkook was right. He had a fever. Picking him up, even though he was getting too big for that, you placed your son into bed beside you. And when Jungkook returned from using the restroom, he raised an eyebrow when he saw someone sitting in his spot.

“And where am I going to sleep?” Jungkook asked. “The couch,” you said in a joking tone, mainly for your son. But Jungkook knew you were serious. You had asked him to step up and be a parent and help you out, rather than make things difficult for you, but Jungkook had forgotten. But. He accepted that he messed up and nodded. Walking over to you, he gave you a long kiss on your forehead as an apology and ruffled your son’s hair before going downstairs and making himself comfortable.

Your son waited until you fell asleep before sneaking out of bed, tiptoeing his way downstairs, and crawling on top of his father’s sleeping figure. Jungkook slowly woke up, a smirk immediately forming on his lips. “Come here, Jr,” Jungkook said as he wrapped his arms around his sick son, placing a soft kiss on the crown of his head.

“Let’s listen to mommy more, okay?” Jungkook suggested. His son nodded, and the two slept like that. All you could do was smile when you went downstairs the next morning. “My boys,” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head with a smile.

#bts #bts reactions #bts series #bts army #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts drabbles #bts scenarios #kpop #kpop imagines #bts imagines

462 notes · View notes

avengerscompound · 5 years

Text

Mixology - False Starts

Mixology - A Captain America Fanfic

Series Masterlist Previous //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2476

Series Warnings: Angst, Character death, Breaking up and making up, past trauma, pregnancy, talk of abortion, smut (vaginal sex, fingering, other things)

Synopsis: Steve Rogers comes into your bar and after a night of flirting you take him home. When he leaves the next day you never expect to see him again.

A/N: This fic was written pre-Infinity War. So while it follows canon for a while, it then veers off wildly at the end.

False Starts

You wake in an unfamiliar room. Sun seeps through the edges of the curtains and you blink your eyes. You’re alone. This never happens. Normally when you ‘sleep’ with a guy there is never any actual sleep involved. If you go back to their place you never stay over. You’ll let them sleep at yours if they want, but you always wake up in your own bed.

You didn’t even have sex last night though. It wasn’t even technically last night. The sun was already coming up with you hopped in bed with Steve Rogers. God knows what time it is now.

You sit up unsure what to do. This isn’t his house. This is the Avengers Tower. You can’t just go walking through the building in his t-shirt hoping he can point you to a shower.

A voice fills the room. It’s English and male and scares the shit out of you.

“Good morning. Captain Rogers requested that I inform you that he has gone to work. I have paged him to return to his room. He should be here momentarily.” It says.

“Where the fuck are you? Have you been spying on me?” You yelp, pulling up the covers to your chin.

“Do not be alarmed. I am JARVIS. I am simply the building AI. Captain Rogers wished that I inform you that the bathroom is through here.” A light turns on in a room attached to this one and the door falls open. “He has left a toothbrush and clean towels for your use. If you would like to meet him in the living room when you’re done, he will be waiting for you in there.”

You hesitantly climb out of bed and head into the bathroom. You shower and brush your teeth, redress in the clothes you had on last night and grab your handbag before going to find Steve.

You don’t have to look far. You walk through the door and see him in the kitchen preparing coffee using a french press. A redhead dressed in black and red sits at the counter talking to him. Steve turns when he hears the door and smiles.

“Afternoon, sleepy head.” He says.

You approach him and he wraps an arm around your waist and gives you a quick peck on the lips. “What time is it?”

“It’s three.”

“Dude, you should have woken me. I charge by the hour.” You tease.

The redhead starts laughing and Steve nudges you with his elbow. “And here I am without my checkbook.” He gestures to the woman behind the counter. “This is Natasha. Natasha, this is my friend Y/N.”

“Friend?” Natasha asks, her eyebrow raised.

“Hey if he’s paying, I’ll be whatever he wants me to be.”

“Cut it out, you. You’re not going to embarrass me.” Steve says. He seems so much lighter and relaxed than last night. Like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “Do you want some coffee? Something to eat?”

You shake your head. “I really have to go. I’ve got work in a couple of hours and I gotta go home and change and then come all the way back out here again.”

“You have to eat something.”

“Don’t worry, dad. I’ll grab a pierogi or something at the subway.” You say. You turn to Natasha. “Nice to meet you.”

“I hope I’ll see you around more,” Natasha said.

You shrug and rub your thumb back and forth over your index and middle fingers.

She laughs and you head to the elevator. Steve follows you taking your hand in his. The elevator opens and you step inside.

“This was a very long elevator ride from memory.” You say, walking your fingers up Steve’s chest.

“It was, wasn’t it?” He says, taking a step towards you. He leans into you but just as his lips are about to touch yours the elevator comes to a halt and several people enter. They greet Steve with nods and murmurs of ‘cap’ and then all turn to face the door. You move so you’re also facing the door, but you press yourself against Steve. You put both your hands behind your back and start teasing his cock through his pants.

He grabs your hands and moves them wrapping both his and your arms around your midriff.

He walks you to the front doors and pulls you to the side, kissing you. The fact that neither of you is particularly fond of PDA goes right out the window. You give yourself to it. Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and melting into him.

“I want you to stay. Go back upstairs and make up for lost time.” Steve growls.

“Mmm… me too.” You breathe. “But I’ve got bills to pay. We’ll do this later.” You pull a pen out of your handbag and take his hand you write your phone number down his thumb.

“When do you think I can see you again?” He asks as you’re writing.

“I have work all this week. I can maybe see you for a bit during the day. Or come meet you after, but it would be really late.” You answer.

“No. I want to do this properly. I want us to date. Not just fool around.” Steve says.

“I have Monday and Tuesday off.” You offer.

He cups your cheek in his hand and runs his thumb along your jaw. “I may be going out on a mission. I’ll call you okay? Don’t run off on me.”

You kiss him. Just softly. Your lips barely brushing his. “I won’t. Can’t afford to.”

It’s weeks before you’re able to come anywhere near being able to organize a day when both of you are free that could accommodate a date. You have work, he’s out doing something. Probably saving the world. That’s what he does. You seriously consider just showing up to Avengers Tower after work and skipping the dating thing. You almost do, and then remember it’s not like you can throw a rock at his window and get him to let you in. So you don’t.

You text each other regularly for a while. That is until you start overthinking it. The fact you can’t coordinate a day to get together seems to be a sign. It isn’t meant to be. You aren’t good enough for someone like him. The world is keeping you apart so that you don’t drag him down into the shit bag that you call a life.

You stop texting him back. He tries to call you a few times. He leaves voice mails. They sound terrified and they break your heart but you tell yourself that he’s better off without you.

You start to just mope around your apartment getting under your roommate’s feet. If you could afford to move you would. You consider maybe just not going far. If you could find a job in Boston maybe you could afford that move. You start casting the net out to see. In the meantime, you just spend all day in your pajamas eating Doritos and watching infomercials. You only leave the house to work or buy food.

On your day off you sit around in your Pokemon onesie staring blankly at the TV. There’s a knock on the door and you don’t move to answer it. Your roommate, Lizzie makes a frustrated groan and gets up. She returns a moment later looking a little dazed.

“Captain America is at the door asking for you.” She says.

You look down at yourself and try and figure out if jumping from a third-floor window would kill or seriously injure you and if either of those would be preferable than Steve seeing you dressed as Pikachu.

You go to the door.

He looks at you with his brow furrowed, a scowl on his face. “Good, you’re alive. Just needed to make sure.” He says, and turns on his heels and starts striding away.

You hop from one foot to the other. You’re in footie pajamas. How far is he going to make you chase him in them? You decide you don’t care and take off after him.

“Steve. Stop! Please.” You call jogging after him. You catch his elbow and he shakes you off.

“Forget it. I thought there was something there. You didn’t. I get it. That’s always how it is for me.” He says. He starts taking the stairs two at a time and you have to run to keep up with him.

“Steve. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot okay? I - I thought …”

Steve stops in the stairwell and turns on you. You collide with him and stumble backward. “You asked me not to hurt you. I didn’t think I needed to specify that you shouldn’t hurt me either.”

You reach for him and he pushes your hand away. “I just - I thought that …”. You stammer.

“I thought you were dead. Is what you thought worse than that?” He snaps.

You shake your head and look at your feet.

“Every person who has ever seen me. Really actually seen Steve Rogers has died or has been taken away from me. The first person I trust …” He shakes his head.

You start crying. Not for yourself. For him. For what you just did to him. “You’re right. I wasn’t worthy of you. You shouldn’t have trusted me.”

“Why? Why would you do this to me?” He asks. The pain drips of his words. You hate that you’re the cause of them.

“I don’t know how to do this. I thought the fact we couldn’t find a time was the world showing me I wasn’t enough for you.” You say. Saying the words out loud makes you realize how stupid they sound. “Oh god! I’m so sorry.”

You fall into him and for a brief moment, you aren’t even sure he’ll catch you. His arms wrap around you, dragging you into a hug that envelops you.

“Can we please go on that date?” He asks.

You look up into his blue eyes. “You still want to?”

“God help me, but yes. I do.”

You lead him back upstairs and to your apartment. You go straight to your bedroom shutting the door behind you so that you don’t have to field questions from Lizzie.

“Wait here for me. I need to shower.” You say. “Unless you want to join me?”

Steve shakes his head and you go shower. When you get back, Steve is poking around your room. “You don’t have any photos or books. Nothing personal. I didn’t notice that last time.” He says.

You shrug. “I keep it online. That stuff is too hard to take places with me. I just have clothes.”

You walk up behind him and start rubbing your hands up and down his back. Something in the way he’s holding himself shifts. He relaxes more. The stiff, straight-backed Captain America starts to slide away, being replaced by the more relaxed, slightly awkward, happier Steve Rogers.

Your hands press down harder. You work your fingers into the muscles of his back. He’s holding so much tension that as you drag your thumbs over his flesh it clicks. He lets you massage him and you start to nuzzle at his back. Your hand travels down and you untuck his shirt from his pants.

He turns on you and takes your hands in his. “Date.” He says.

You stand on your tiptoes and start to place little kisses down the side of his neck. “It’s only just 12. We can do this first. Then grab some lunch.” You move your mouth to his and kiss the corner of his mouth.

“This comes after the date.” He says before returning the kiss. He lets your wrists go and you move your hands to his chest. You slide them down stopping them at his belt. You start to toy with it and when he makes no move to stop you, you start to unbuckle it.

He walks you back towards the bed and unhooks your towel and you let it fall on the floor before you drop down on your mattress.

Steve kisses a trail down your body, sucking and nipping at your skin. His tongue draws circles on you as he moves closer and closer to your pussy. When he reaches your stomach you fall backward and he spreads your legs and lifts them on his shoulders.

He moves his face to your pussy. His nose touches your folds a split second before you feel his tongue swirl around the entrance to your cunt. He laps upward and your body twitches and then spasms as you feel first his nose glides over your clit and then his tongue press down on it.

He focuses his tongue on your clit. You close your eyes and your hands go to his hair. As he licks and nips and sucks at that little bundle of nerves, you feel yourself starting to come apart. You grab a pillow and pull it over your face to muffle the sounds you’re making. Pressure builds inside of you as your skin prickles all over.

“Fuck, Steve. Please. Please. I need you.” You plead.

Steve sits back on his heels and pushes his middle finger into your cunt. He curls it inside of you, stroking it along your g-spot as he uses his thumb to roll over your clit. “As much as I like to hear that. It’s not happening, darlin’.” He says.

“Please, Steve.” You beg. “I need you inside of me.”

He chuckles. “I’ll never get over how forward women are these days. I really like it. It worried me at first. I thought there was no way I could keep up. Turns out, I really like women who know what they want. I always have. They make up for my shortfalls. Teach me things that I wouldn’t otherwise know.” Another finger joins the first and he corkscrews them inside of you. “The thing is, in this instance you’re wrong. The only part of me you need to get what you want is my fingers. Shall I show you?”

“Oh god, please.” You cry, arching off the mattress.

He brings his other hand up and his fingers work your clit. Meanwhile, he keeps moving his fingers inside of you side to side. He curls them as he does and when his knuckles hit your g-spot you gasp and he presses down hard. You come. Your orgasm taking complete hold of you. You smother your cries with the pillow as your body bucks, your legs clamping down around his head.

Steve pulls away and gets up.

“Holy shit.” You pant, relaxing back. You feel spent.

“Holy shit, indeed. Now please get dressed so we can go out.” He says, heading to the bathroom.

// NEXT

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #angst #mixology #false starts

210 notes · View notes

alotoffandomtrash · 5 years

Text

Brief Joys (Because he smiles through it all)

Summary: Dick shows up to the manor with a baby.

AOO: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17474789

Bruce

When Bruce gets home from work, he expects a lot of things. Alfred coming to greet him, the smell of cleaning products and the loud noise of his children running through the old manor. The last thing he expected to see, as he and Tim chat about their latest business deal, is his oldest son sitting in their living room with a baby, Alfred by his side with sparkling eyes and Damian looking as shocked as Bruce feels.

"Explain." Bruce spits out, folding his arms against his chest. Dick grins and there is something strange flashing through his eyes that Bruce can't identify, so he notes it down and decides to focus on the most obvious clues first.

"I found him as Dick Grayson, his father was shot before he could be arrested for the murder of his mother. I volunteered to take him for a few weeks until he gets a good home. He's a baby so they expect he'll be off soon enough."

Richard was smiling, the small infant being bounced on his lap.

Bruce was automatically suspicious. Dick was a lot of things, but his ability to not get attached was none existent. It's a skill he's never been able to learn despite Bruce's constant efforts for him to do so.

He knows better than anyone after being Dick's partner for so long that he was too loving for his own good. He has a heart that did not discriminate. He loves selflessly and without judgment.

He would be a perfect father and he was. The smiling happy baby was all the evidence Bruce would need to confirm this theory.

The older vigilance watches as Tim coos over the baby. Damian standing by Dick's side watching the baby with curiosity. He takes in the babies batman themed footie pajamas. The babies laugh as Dick holds him up in the air and leaves kisses all over the infants chubby face. The delight in Richard's eyes. He watched with jealousy as Richard succumbed to the role of dad so naturally and casually, like its all he's ever been, in a way Bruce has never been able to do.

At this moment Bruce starts making the arrangements for the babies permanent stay.

Tim

Tim knows this baby isn't going anywhere. He exchanges a look of disbelief with Damian as their older brother explains the babies presence to their adopted father.

"He has a good taste in clothes, but I'm sure he'll look better in Red Robin themed footie pajamas." Tim teases, moving his arms forward to take the baby from his older brother. Dick lets him and grins.

"We'll buy him a few. I'm sure his future parents will appreciate some extra clothes." Tim pretends he didn't hear the last statement. Instead of focusing on helping Alfred set up the babies things in Dick's old room. It goes unsaid Dick will be staying at the manor. It makes Tim happy to have his older brother moving back into the manor. Enjoys the new presence of his new nephew as he giggles and makes cute baby noises. It wasn't hard for Tim to accept the baby.

The babies black hair and blue eyes make him fit into the family perfectly and Dick would be- was an amazing father.

"What's his name?" Damian asks, the little demon slightly glaring at the cute bundle in Richard's arms.

"I'm naming him John for now." Their older brother is smiling big. Tim notes he hasn't stopped smiling. He doesn't say anything about Dick naming the baby after his dead father. Doesn't bother questioning it. It feels right. "We should call up the family. I'm sure everyone will want to see him."

Damian

It's not surprising for every member of the family to slowly start showing up in the manor. Not that Damian appreciates it. The week had been packed with the loud whales and giggles of the creature Grayson decided was a good idea to drag over to the manor.

The child is disruptive. Always needing attention and care. Damian can't help but think that the child wouldn't be able to sustain League training if it came down to it. Babies were expected learn to survive like any member of the group. But the tiny Grayson was too spoiled by the constant love and affection coming from the older Grayson, his dad.

Damian didn't know how to feel about Richard being a father. He can't deny that he was an amazing father.

Despite only having the child for a week, Richard adapted quickly with no hesitation. Taking shorter patrol hours to get some sleep so he'll be able to wake up early with the child. Responding quickly to the babies yells when it wakes up or needs something. His experience with Roy's brat came in handy. But it wasn't just Richard talent and care of the infant that made him a good father.

He loves him. He loves John.

He's been with the baby for a period of time most wouldn't even consider was enough to be considered close friends, yet he loves John selflessly and unconditionally.

In the way, Damian imagines a father would.

How he imagined his father would.

As much as Damian loves his father and still cares for his mother, he knows that they've never treated him like that. Like they would forgive everything he was as long as he was happy. They didn't believe in love like that. The only person to ever treat him like that was the same person who now had a crying infant in his arms.

It scared Damian because he didn't want to lose his Batman. His pride keeps the emotions locked in his throat and he can only stare helplessly as a baby replaces him. He's started to understand what Drake might have felt when his mantle was stripped away. And that thought stings more than he thought it would.

"Hey, little D."

"Yes? What do you need, Grayson?" He forcefully swallows the lump that has become permanent this week in his throat.

"It's Sunday. It's our movie night. Did you think I'd forget? I put down John for the night, so we have some time for ourselves. This will be so great we-" Damian can only stare as Grayson takes his hand and drags him to the living room lively chatting to him about their plans for the night. His eyes are warm and loving, they're looking at him like he's the most precious thing in the universe. The same look John has been receiving since he crashed into their lives.

Maybe this means theirs room for two in the center of Dick's world.

Jason

It takes Jason the longest to show up to the manor to visit the new brat. The baby is cute. Black hair and blue eyes. Classic future Robin material and Jason can't help but hold back a smile as he thinks of Damian's reaction once he gets replaced. But then again, the kid always wanted to be Batman, so maybe the mini Grayson would be his Robin.

He rolls his eyes when Bruce announces the party. He wasn't in the mood for interacting with people, even if it was just the family's closes friends. Jason isn't sure why he stays, but he does.

Throwing insults and quick remarks towards his younger brothers. Teasing Dick as he helps him get the baby ready. They dress him up in small fancy pants and a bottom up. Jason almost coos at the sight of the small socks and shoes. So tiny he could put his hand around them and squeeze.

Jason can only watch from a distance. Too used to being alone and being the little black sheep to act any different tonight, even after meeting his cute nephew.

Dick is laughing, hold his baby tightly against him and kissing John's head.

Jason rolls his eyes at the cheesy happy expression in the man's face. Dick has always been too much of a mama bear. Worrying and clinging at all of them, he doesn't seem to understand that none of them really care for the light. Instead, they act like the bats they dress up as. Sticking together and hiding from the world. Sad and alone.

This is why today is so odd.

Everyone's too focused on the happy. Laughing and smiling. It feels so bizarre to Jason to see the manor be something other than gloomy. And for the first time in a long time, he feels the warmth inside of him. So intense it scares him. This feeling of hope. Feels like maybe their fucked up family could actually be allowed to have something so innocent and small live with them. Like maybe they would finally defeat the odds and not break another human. Jason wants it. Wants it so badly it makes him want to cry. He wants that like baby to strive, to be the first of them all rise up from the cracks of the bat's darkness. He wanted the baby to be more like Dick.

Because Goldy is the only one to has ever been able to be anything other than a shadow.

And then his fucked up mind just had to inspect the room more closely. Slowly watching everyone until he finds the only spot of sadness in the room. Cass, who wears a small frown on her face and looks at Richard Fucking Grayson, our resident golden boy like she's seen a new alien species and doesn't know what to make of it.

And then doubt starts sipping through Jason's veins like a drug. It's familiar. It's home.

Cassandra

Cass doesn't know how to react the first time she sees her new nephew. She had flown from Hong Kong as quickly as possible, completely enchanted by the news Tim excitedly explained through the phone, the appearance of the new member of the family.

She never thought of the baby's presence of anything as permanent. Two weeks staying with the family and she can see how everyone has fallen head over heels for the young one. They were all completely under John's thumb like he put a spell on them.

Dick looked happy, happier than she's ever seen him before. Richard had always been the easiest to read for her because when he felt happiness, he felt it with his whole body like happiness was growing too big for his body for him to contain. His limps shaking, his hands everywhere as he spoke, as he jumps and down, unable to stay still.

The party was meant to be a casual getter. The reunion of the Bat-family with a few extra people, mostly the original Justice League members, and their oldest friends. Cass can only watch from afar fondly as everyone makes a line towards Dick. Cooing and awing at the bundle of happiness in his arms.

"Dude, I always knew you would be the best dad." Wally beams and almost everyone in the party makes a comment agreeing. Their eyes sparkling with excitement.

"You've always been great with kids."

"Best dad possible."

"You'll train him to be the best without even trying."

"He'll love you."

"Can't wait to see how he grows up."

And it all feels like a fairy tale to Cassandra. Everything is colorful, warm and excitement is bubbling up hight. Their balloons of happy laughter floating everywhere decorating the darkest parts of the manor, even the corners that haven't seen light since Bruce lost his own family. She can see all the affection, pride and compassion reflected in their bodies, their delight. And then her eyes land back to Dick, who's straightened his spine like he's been shocked.

She sees it so clearly in his body, as clear as some hear the words...

"What are you talking about?"

It all turns bad. bad. bad.

That's the thing about fairy tales, Cass can't help but think as she watches how everyone tenses in confusion, they're not real. No matter how badly you want them to be.

Dick

He accepts everything as it comes. When he ran into an alley after hearing gunshots, he didn't expect to see a woman running out of crappy apartment building bleeding so much red that her dress almost looked red.

He didn't think, he only did what he knew best and he extended a hand. Grabbing on to the women and pulling her behind some dumpsters.

He would never get used to seeing people stare at him like he's God itself when he saves them. Instead of focusing on dealing with the situation accordingly putting his hands on the women wounds, this when he notices the baby in her hands. The baby won't stop crying. He can hear the yells of a man, the sound of a gun reloading and feet running over.

Then theirs the sounds of one last gunshot and the sound of a particularly heavy body falling to the ground, it takes a quick peek from behind the dumpster, the sight of a police officer and crowd for him to conclude that their safe now.

The women passed away in that alley. Leaving a crying, blood covered infant in the hands of a city that rips people into shreds until there nothing, till their anything but human.

He brings the baby home.

He shouldn't have.

His family keeps looking at him with these knowing looks, like they have him all figured out and no matter how much he explains that he's only looking after him for while they don't seem to understand and he can't expect them to ever get it. They're too busy looking at him like he's the sun to see all the sadder edges of his psyche. The one's time has been able to carve into him, leaving big cracks he's only half-heartedly tried to cover with duck tape.

He can't blame them for not knowing things he never explained.

Mirage. Blockbusters death. Tarantula. The roof. He's failed relationships. The countless deaths and mistakes that weigh on his shoulders so heavily it makes him want to cry.

The small human in his hand, this precious baby boy deserves the world.

Deserves someone who's more than the mess that is his life. His smalls, cramped apartment and the shitty mess that is Bluehaven.

And it doesn't how matter how much he loves, how much he gives of himself. He can't be his dad.

When he tells his family the social worker called him about John, how they found him a good family. They freeze.

It makes Dick tired.

It makes Dick numb.

He thought that after the party they'll get the message, but no, instead they talk and act like John is not about to leave, like he'll always be part of this cage that is the manor.

Dick doesn't want to look at them.

When the day comes he helps Alfred pack a small bad with John's favorite things. He promises himself he won't cry.

He holds John and hugs him so close to his chest. His heart aches, but Dick insists on focusing on memorizing how he feels in his arms. His soft weight, warmth and soft texture of his skin. His smell of baby powder and Alfred's favorite detergent.

He can't cry. Because this isn't his baby. He never was.

When he hears a knock downstairs, it feels all too soon. He's spent a month changing diapers, feeding, cleaning, burping, cuddling and loving this little boy and he wanted one more minute, but he knew it still wouldn't be enough. He would miss him so much. His blue eyes, dark hair, his soft tan skin, his little hands, the birthmark on his hip, his laugh, his everything. He would miss it all. The entire family is moving towards them and Dick can't look at them in the eye.

He walks over to the social worker and with a big smile hands over John. The baby wiggles in the women's grip. Look over at him, his little face scrunched up like he's puzzled by something and Dick wishes with all his heart that he's too young to understand.

He smiles at the baby. Hoping it means something.

The social worker asks him questions about the babies care.

He smiles as he explains to her in detail his likes and dislikes. His night routine and habits.

He even laughs as he nods his head yes when she asks if he's sure.

He smiles as he hands her his bag.

She offers so many kind words. Kind words he can't focus on because his insides feel like their sore and bruised like he just goes off a fight with killer croc.

He smiles when she says goodbye.

He washes numbly as she walks away with his baby. John looks over her shoulder, his little arm pointing towards him. He wants to reach out, but he doesn't. Instead, he tries to memorize every inch of him before he disappears.

He smiles goodbye. He doesn’t know how to do anything else anymore.

He's gone. John is gone. Hasn't even been gone more than a few minutes and he feels like something in him has died and not for the first time, it never stops. The emptiness just never goes away

And then he walks away.

He doesn't say anything for the longest time and his family is looking at him, looking at him like they don't really know who he is anymore.

#dick grayson #batman #batfamily #fanfiction #im sorry #bruce wayne #damian wayne #justice league #jason todd #cassandra wayne #tim drake #2019 #my writing

63 notes · View notes

darkpetal16 · 5 years

Text

The Bucket List: Ambiguous Morals

A/N The other HP fanfiction that I might choose to finish once I wrap up a couple more of my stories. This one does feature a reincarnated student, and a very heavily morally gray OC.

Reborn as Harry’s twin sister at the start of his story means a completely fun, and relaxing life.

Not.

Genre: Adventure / Fantasy

Rating: T (involves breaking the laws, and child endangerment)

For the longest time all I felt was pain. There was no singular thought, no coherent feeling. Only pain. I felt it all throughout my body, and yet I felt like I had no body. I was flattened; spread out and steamrolled over repeatedly. The pain was unlike any I had ever experienced, and when I was finally given a relief I wanted to sob with gratitude.

The relief, unfortunately, was painfully brief.

And then the pain started again, but this time it was focused on my head. The worst possible migraine in history, I believed. Nothing - absolutely nothing - could be compared to that pain.

My body felt loose, wobbly, and utterly helpless. I had little to no motor control, and I could do nothing but cry and cry. At times I felt a rush of cold and the pain vanished instantly, but it only lasted for a minute, or two.

And then, one day, the pain abruptly stopped.

I woke up.

My eyes stared at the painted ceiling of the night sky. Stars twinkled, and I saw a comet shoot across the sky. There was a single waning moon to the far right corner, and when I turned my head to look at it, I realized that I was surrounded by wood bars on all sides of me. Confusion entered my mind, as I struggled to understand why I would be in a cage without a ceiling.

After another moment of staring at the bars, I began to look around and I realized how proportionately large (and blurry) all the furniture were around me.

I was inside a child’s room.

A… a baby’s room.

Fear, with more bewilderment, shot through me and adrenaline forced my body into action. I flailed around, unable to find the strength to do more than roll a little to the left and right. I looked down in horror at my tiny, chubby hands that I knew were not mine. The hands before me were pale and pink, and most certainly too tiny to belong to any adult. My arms were covered in fat, and stubby. I was wearing some kind of footie pajamas.

Impossible.

I tried to think back on my previous actions. I tried, desperately, to remember past the pain.

My head throbbed sharply for second, causing my brow to furrow as I winced.

Then I remembered.

I died.

I died. I know I did. There was no possible way for me to have survived what had happened. I was in my third year of medical school, I knew it was impossible for me to have survived. I remembered thinking how utterly disappointed I was about my life as my heart stopped beating and I could no longer breathe.

Then pain.

So how was I here?

I died - but now I’m alive?

I was -

I mean.

I was reborn?

How?

Why?

I was no one special. I was a groomed child who did everything right. I wasn’t mean to anyone. I had no grudges. I went to prep school, boarding school, absolutely everything my high-powered lawyer mother had me do. After graduating from high school with many university classes under my belt already, I tested in early to medical school and did everything expected of me. I studied. I pulled all nighters for the longer shifts at a chance for more experience. I practiced my sutures religiously.

I did everything right, so why do I have to go through it all again?

I didn’t want that. That would be a special kind of hell if I had to do it all again.

Wasn’t death supposed to be the end?

“Rosie?”

My gaze turned towards the front door of the room as the door slowly creaked open. A woman entered with startlingly bright green eyes and a halo of dark red hair. She approached me, her gaze warm and loving as she looked at me. There was a hopeful light in her eyes and her lips slowly upturned. “Rosie? Are you feeling better, sweetie?”

I didn’t know what to say. Hesitantly, I reached towards her, stretching my tiny fingers up in the sky.

Her eyes watered, and she swooped down and picked me up with ease. “Oh. Oh, my sweet little flower. Is the pain gone? James! James!”

Then a man appeared at the door way as the woman held me close and began to kiss my forehead and cheek. James, I assumed, had shaggy dark hair and deep blue eyes behind round glasses. A strong sense of familiarity hit me upon seeing him.

In his arms was a baby - perhaps three weeks, I would guess - who was sound asleep. “Lily? What’s - Rosie isn’t crying anymore?”

Lily was crying quietly by that point, kissing me over and over. “She’s safe now. She didn’t hit the one-month mark. Her magic finally stopped building in her head.”

Magic? Wait… Lily? James?

No way.

James choked back a sob as he stepped towards us and - and placed the baby in his arms in the middle of the air.

I stared in shock at the floating baby before James pulled us both into his arms and began to kiss Lily and I each on our cheeks. “I knew she would be okay. I knew it. Our little rose is as tough as they come.”

“Yes, love. Oh, Rosie Lily Potter you had us so worried.”

Rosie Lily Potter.

Potter.

Lily and James Potter.

So, in addition to being reborn, I was reborn as the daughter of Lily and James Potter. Likely twin sister to Harry James Potter, protagonist of Harry Potter.

Death is the next great adventure.

About a week later, I had mostly everything figured out. I had died and been reborn as the fraternal twin sister to Harry. I was (by that point) a month old.

Typically, a month old child would not be able to remember sentences, let alone an entire past life.

It would appear that all that pain I had felt after Lily gave birth to me was my brain having repeated aneurysms and the magic inside of the body constantly fixing it. My tiny brain was forced into rapid development to accommodate all of the memories and knowledge I possessed. In a typical sense, that would be impossible.

But in a magical sense, it was apparently entirely possible. The doctors had told Lily and James that my magic was building up inside of my head, and if it didn’t relieve within a month, they would be forced to cripple my magical core and turn me near-squib, or I would become brain dead. The phenomenon was called Death’s Kiss. It occurred in newborn magical infants, with a fatality rate of eighty percent, squib rate of fifteen percent, and everything becoming a-okay five percent.

The sheer luck I had was unprecedented. Not only was I reborn into my all time favorite series, but I survived the process, and I got to be Harry’s sister.

I could not have asked for a better “next adventure.”

How many times had I dreamed about being able to effect the Potterverse? And here I was with the greatest opportunity of lifetimes.

I was not going to mess this up.

I had a bucket list. And I would complete it before I was forced onto the next great adventure.

Lily was a wonderful mother. Although, she clearly was new, and at times seemed at lost with how to ease Harry’s cries. My darling baby brother (even if he was born ahead of me, given my true age he would always be my baby brother now) cried easily, like all newborns. He couldn’t yet sleep throughout the night and if for an instant he was left alone in the room, he would ball hysterically.

Lily did her best, though, and James tried valiantly to help. Lily would rock her son, while murmuring sweet nothings, while James would do odd bits of tricks to coax a smile or laugh. It was endearing to watch, and I felt incredibly affectionate towards the duo.

While they loved Harry, they never ignored me or showed favors between the two. The young couple showered us with love and attention in between every moment they could spare. When Lily wasn’t attending to us, she was working on complex and alien-looking schematics. James, though, would try to fix non existent problems around the house.

It wasn’t hard to surmise that we were already under the fidelius charm, with Peter as our secret keeper.

The thought made me sick. Peter was easily one of the most hated characters in the fandom. His slimy nature on top of his betrayal was simply unforgivable. I wished I could voice my thoughts, but what could I do? I barely had control over my own body; and there was simply no way they would believe me when I said that Peter would betray them. I could try to tell them I “dreamed” about Peter betraying us, but I knew in my heart that would never work.

Still, I would try. I had to at least try. When I was old enough to say words without drawing suspicion, I would tell them I dreamed of a “scary man” following “a rat” to us. That the rat opened the door to our home and the bad man came in. I couldn’t get more obvious than that short of telling them all I read about everything to come from a book.

That could have dire consequences that I didn’t understand.

But, that was still a solid four months (if I wanted to push it) to five months (to be safe) away. For now, it was watching the world around me, learning to control my body, and trying to get a hold of the magic inside of me.

I always thought, you know, that it would be painfully obvious I had magic inside of me if I was ever magical. Considering I had no magic in my first life, I thought for sure I would be able to notice the distinct difference between the bodies. Alas, the difference was not obvious enough I could easily detect it. In fact, the magic inside of me was so “quiet” I had to strain and focus for nearly an hour before I could properly feel it. I hoped that in time that would be easier (both from practice, and that my magic would grow alongside my physical body).

Only time would tell, though.

There was a crackle of fire, and whoosh of green flames before Sirius Black stepped into our living room. I raised my head up from where I sat in the playpen in the living room. Harry was snoring quietly on a pillow beside me, clutching onto a patchy stuffed deer. I had been playing with soft cubes for the past hour or so, attempting to force my fingers to pick them up and move them over, and over, in hopes of obtaining my previous life’s dexterity as soon as possible.

Lily looked up from her pages of work - she nearly covered half the living room floor with her pages and floating books. A smile lit up her face. “Sirius!”

“The one and only,” Sirius said with a grin and a gleam in his eyes. “How’s my favorite newly mother?”

Lily laughed. “I’m fine. James is upstairs if you want to see him.”

I squealed out loud.

Sirius turned his head, and his gaze widened. “Little Rosie isn’t crying anymore?”

Lily beamed, levitating herself up so she could stand up and hop over her papers. “No. Everything is fine now. She hasn’t cried all week.”

I squealed again, reaching up my hands, trying to grab the attention of one of my favorite - ah, can’t really say character anymore, could I? - person ever. Sirius’s smile stretched widely over his face and he hurried over to me to pick me up. Large hands grasped me and swung me up high. “Look at you, Rosie! Look like a little princess in that dress.”

I giggled with delight, reaching out towards his face and patting his cheek. Lily smiled at the two of us, reaching over and tucking behind a strand of dark red hair behind my ear.

“She looks exactly like you, Lily,” Sirius said, readjusting me in his arms. “Got your hair, eyes, nose, mouth - mirror image.”

“She has James’s curls,” Lily corrected.

Sirius patted the top of my head, running his fingers through my unruly hair. “That she does. She’ll be beautiful.”

The thought made me laugh. Beauty was something I had never associated with myself. Scrubs and dark circles were all I could see myself with for the past three years of my life. Even with gorgeous parents such as Lily and James, I still couldn’t imagine myself as one of the pretty girls in school. It would be neat if that happened, but I certainly wouldn’t hold out hope.

“She’ll be the most beautiful girl in the whole world,” Lily bragged, kissing my forehead.

“James and I are going to have to beat the boys away, huh,” Sirius joked.

“Or girls.”

“Or girls,” Sirius corrected.

“Padfoot?”

James’s voice drew our attention towards the stairs where he hopped off the last stepped and beamed at his best friend.

Sirius grinned. “Prongs! Been too long.”

Sirius handed me to Lily in order to man-hug James, the two men laughing and already starting to whisper mischievously to each other. Lily rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to help me keep them in line, Rosie.”

I patted her cheek. That would be an impossibility.

At five months old I had finally achieved control over my body. I still lacked the strength and stamina to do many things, but I was greatly relieved that I wasn’t quite so helpless. Since I had reached the standard age (albeit a month early) for most children to start speaking, I decided to begin talking.

It was getting dreadfully boring squealing, pointing, and crying to communicate. Although, I had to hand it to Lily, James, and Sirius for picking up on my cues relatively quickly. Sirius came by about once a week when he could. He only stayed a handful of hours - enough to play with Harry and me, and update the Potters on the warfront. I had yet to see Peter, thankfully. I wasn’t sure I would be able to not scream in rage at him for what he would do to this loving family.

And it was a loving family. It was absolutely nothing like my previous homelife. I felt no obligation, or expectation placed upon me. Lily and James were doting parents, and tried their best to keep us happy in an obviously dark time. It was admirable, and it made my heart ache even more so at how Peter would betray them.

I would do my best, though. I had to let them know without giving on how much I knew. I had no idea what would happen if someone else got their hands on all of my knowledge, so I had to be absolutely careful to not overtly give anything away.

Oh, and of course study Occlumency as soon as I was able. I was certain I would be able to have quick grasp on it, since I already had the self-discipline from my past life instilled in me.

I played with Harry’s hair in our playpen. Harry’s bright green eyes lit up while he tried to fit a cube into a circle. His hair was soft, fluffy, and bounced back up when I patted it down. Harry enjoyed having his hair played with, and we quickly found that it soothed him when he cried.

Lily was preparing dinner for us (plus Sirius), with James’s help. She waved her wand, and potatoes began to peel themselves before being placed into a boiling cauldron. James, meanwhile, was mixing a cake batter (who knew he loved to baked?) while telling Sirius to “watch his damn language”.

My stomach rumbled, and I stood up from the playpen. I leaned heavily onto the red gate, watching the trio of adults. I cleared my throat and then said (squealed more like), “Mama!”

Everything froze. All adults turned towards the playpen, and Lily’s face morphed into sheer excitement. “Rosie?!”

“Mama!”

Lily screamed, leaping up into the air and then shooting across the room towards me. “Rosie! Did you say Mama?”

“Mama! Papa!”

James dropped his bowl of mix, his face bright as can be as he ran towards us. Lily picked me up into the air, twirling me around before James then picked both of us up. I repeated their titles in a chant, warm feeling of happiness bubbling inside of me that I could make such wonderful people so happy. When the spinning was done, James picked up Harry and ruffled his hair. “We have the brightest kids.”

“Papa hungry.”

“Look at that,” Lily exclaimed. “Her first words and sentence! She’s so early - so bright!”

Pretty sure this constitutes as cheating, but the compliment is still appreciated.

“Let’s feed the pups, then,” Sirius said, giving me a wink. He had cleaned up the mess in the kitchen during the commotion.

“Paddy!” I declared, pointing at Sirius.

Our godfather gave us a splitting grin and eagerly stole me from Lily’s arms; she whipped out her wand and threatened to hex him into tomorrow if he didn’t give me back, but he danced around the house and essentially played monkey in the middle (Lily in the middle, and I as the ball) with James. Harry squealed with delight, watching the game and sparks of magic around the house.

By the time it was done, dinner was well over burned and they had to start again, but nothing was able to shake the smile on their faces for the rest of the evening.

The next night, when Harry woke up screaming, I screamed alongside of him. It wasn’t hard to coax tears out - the hormones in my body were as powerful as puberty - and when the parents came to the bedroom Lily picked up her soon and began to rock and calm him while James picked me up and rubbed my back.

“Shh, shh,” Lily soothed. “It’s okay Harry, Mama’s here.”

James began to rock me in place. “It’s okay now, Rosie. It’s okay.”

“Rat,” I hiccuped. “Bad. Bad rat.”

James kissed the top of my head. “Bad rat?”

“Bad rat. Bring bad man.”

“The bad rat brings the bad man?” Lily murmured, taking Harry over to the changing table.

James kissed me again. “There, there, Rosie. There are no bad rats. You’re safe.”

“Bad rat brings bad man.”

“Do you think - ?”

“Of course not, Lily,” James exclaimed. “It’s simply a bad dream. The doctor told us she could have recurring bad dreams after recovering from Death’s Kiss. They’ll go away in a month, or so.”

Wait, what?

Shit.

Every night Harry woke up crying, I would cry alongside him and tell them about the bad dream. With stubbornness only a wizard could possess, James continuously dismissed the dream and reassured Lily it meant nothing. After a month passed and I continued to have the dream, James became a bit more hesitant.

The next time Sirius came by, he carried armfuls of books. I wasn’t able to see the titles, but James and Lily became engrossed in them for three days.

Upon emerging from their readings, they both looked immensely relieved.

My next nightmare of Peter betraying them, and they had me drink an odd white potion that bubbled down my throat.

Again, and again it happened. They never mentioned thinking for an instant they believed my dreams. As time went on, I got a bit more elaborate in my dreams, describing Peter as best as I could, but they never faltered.

(Later on, I would learn they would discover that children affected by Death’s Kiss were plagued by worse-case-scenario nightmares. They picked up on the worst possible outcome that could occur every night and for many years they would dream about it. It happened less than one percent of the time, but given that I was already in the five percent margin for surviving Death’s Kiss without being turned squib, they figured I was in the one percent, too. So no matter what I said, what I described, they would only ever view it as a dream and force-feed me a dreamless draught.)

I was fearful of what was to come. I wished Dumbledore would come by, but he never did. I even tried to drop hints that I needed to see him (I dreamed about him coming by, and that it made me “very happy”), but nothing worked.

Short of telling them the absolute truth, I was running out of ideas.

As we neared our one-year birthday, my mind was becoming more, and more flustered. My magic lashed out accordingly, and Lily and James were forced to put me to sleep frequently so I didn’t accidentally hurt myself or Harry.

I feared I wouldn’t be able to save them.

But, I had to keep trying.

On our one year old birthday, Harry woke up first with an excited squeal. He was levitating in his bed, slowly drifting up towards the ceiling from a burst of accidental magic.

It brought a smile on my face to see my brother so happy in the morning. He didn’t have a lot of accidents with magic, unlike me, but when he did it usually revolved around levitating or summoning items to him.

My bursts had died down the couple weeks leading up to the birthday, as I was able to get a very vague hold on them. Thankfully, I could sense my magic a lot easier after months of practice, but it was far from perfect. I still couldn’t command it to do as I wished, but that was to be expected. Apparently witches and wizards developed their magic up until the age of ten rapidly. Their magic would steadily grow, along with spurts of significant growth spurts that caused the magic to lash out. It was why children did not attend magical school until ten, because their magic would be unreliable until it leveled out in its growth. There were instances where people had bursts throughout puberty, as well, but nowhere near as common as childhood.

Magic during childhood was unreliable. It struggled to fit inside the growing body, and fought to stay calm. At times, it really seemed like it had a mind of its own. The only thing in tune with its desire, and my desire, was to keep the physical body safe and healthy.

But, I was stubborn.

If I wanted to do the things I wanted to do, I would need a hold on my magic sooner than ten years old.

So, every night after Lily and James tucked me in and fed me a dreamless potion, I laid in bed and tried to call forth my magic.

I tried to bring it towards my hand and push enough of it out of my body to see it. It took nearly an hour every night (sometimes two, if unlucky), but I had faith that dedicated practice would fruit success.

James was the first to enter our bedroom, laughing at seeing his son floating in the air.

Harry clapped his hands. “Papa!”

James reached up and plucked Harry from the air. “Morning, Harry. Happy birthday!”

“Happy birthday, Harry,” I chirped.

James waved his right hand towards me and I felt the tug of his magic. I floated out of my crib and into James’s right arm. Harry, in his left, reached towards me and hugged me. I kissed his cheek.

“Happy birthday, Rosie,” James told me.

“Happy birthday,” I echoed, patting Harry’s cheek. “Cake?”

“Later,” James promised me. “How about we head downstairs? Paddy is here!”

“Paddy!” I squealed with delight.

James carried us down stairs, and we found the living room to be lovingly decorated with banners, posters, pictures, and presents. A shaggy black dog laid on the carpet in the middle, his belly up in the air. I screamed with joy, squirming to play with Sirius in his animagus form. James laughed and sat me down on the living room floor, and then headed to the kitchen with Harry to work on our birthday cake.

My tiny toddler legs moved as quickly as I could towards the happy dog who playfully growled at me. I leapt onto his belly, hearing the soft umph from him before Sirius rolled over and grabbed my the back of my shirt before tossing me up into the air. I felt his magic coil around me, levitating me in the air before gently lowering me down. I fell onto the soft carpet onto my bum before scrambling to stand back up and proceed to chase Sirius around the carpet.

He would playfully catch me again, and again, tossing me into the air and then levitating me down.

It was an absolute delight, and I relished it.

I hadn’t gotten around to writing out James / Lily’s death. For the most part it follows canon, but when Sirius attempts to give Rosie and Harry to Hagrid Rosie throws a massive fit. She uses her magic to stick to Sirius with such stubborness Sirius ends up having to go with her to Dumbledore instead of confronting Peter. This results in Sirisu never getting sent to prison, Peter marked as the traitor, and Sirius taking guardianship over Harry and Rosie. However, Dumbledore is insistent that they live out of society, for their safety.

The following scenes are life for the quiet family, and are pretty choppy.

Sirius sighed quietly, and Remus poured each of them a glass of firewhiskey. I hugged my blanket around me, as I sat on the top step and peered through the railing into the living room below. The two friends sat on the couch, Sirius looking over an official-looking parchment and muttering. “Why? Why would she do this?”

“Who can say,” Remus murmured, taking a shot. “What are you going to do?”

“What can be done? I’m Lord Black now, now that that bitch died,” Sirius grumbled, then snorted. “The family I tried so desperately to escape, and now that title is bonded to me until death. That spiteful bitch.”

Remus patted Sirius on the shoulder as Sirius took another shot - that was his four that I had seen. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Not a lot can be done. Want an estate?” Remus gave Sirius a weary look. “No, thanks.”

Sirius winced. “If I leave it to rot, as an official Lord, I’ll be charged fees for abandoning a Noble and Ancient home. I can’t move the kids there, shit’s filled with dark magic.”

“Won’t Kreacher be able to maintain it?”

“That bastard is too old. I would have to purchase another House Elf to help him, at the very least.”

An idea popped in my head. “Paddy? Moony?”

Both adults turned up towards the staircase, and Remus stood up. “Rosie? What are you doing up?”

“I don’t sleep well sometimes,” I said, squeezing through the bars on the stair and tumbling into the air. Sirius immediately cast a slow-falling charm on me, and then levitated me over towards them. He caught me and placed me in his lap.

“We should get you to bed, though.”

“But, I have an idea,” I protested.

The adults chuckled at the idea of a three year old having an idea that would be prudent to their predicament.

“Bring Kreacher here,” I said.

Sirius shook his head. “He’s not someone to have around kids.”

“Bring Kreacher here,” I repeated stubbornly, “and hire a new elf to clean the old place. It’s filled with Dark, right? We might need some of those stuff later. I bet Grandpa would agree.”

Remus’s brow furrowed. “Did this come from one of your dreams, Rosie?”

“Yes,” I lied. “I dreamed about Kreacher being here. We will need him. He is a good boy.”

Sirius grimaced. “I don’t know - ”

“Sirius, remember what Dumbledore said - ”

What did Dumbledore say?

“Yeah, I - ”

“Would it hurt to try?”

A sigh. “No.”

“Kreacher?” I called out, sitting up in my bed.

Kreacher appeared in my room with a snap, tired yellow eyes glaring hatefully at me. “How can I help the young mistress?”

“Regulus’s locket.”

The elf froze, his eyes widening. “What?”

“The locket he told you to destroy - it’s very special. It can only be destroyed through basilisk venom, a dementor’s kiss, or fiendfyre. Understand?”

Kreacher gaped at me. “Y-Yes.”

“Will you be able to destroy it now?” I asked him. “Give me an honest answer.”

“Yes,” Kreacher said.

“Good. Go do it.”

And he was gone.

EMPs were not overtly difficult to make. Anyone could make them, really. They required lithium batteries, wires, soldering experience, and time. After confirming, and reaffirming, that I could use technology under the wards (but at the very edge, and not inside the heavily magicked house), I set about at creating a makeshift treehouse to use as my workshop. I needed a safe place to create several dozen EMPs for the first step of my plan.

Plus I always wanted a treehouse.

It didn’t take much asking for Sirius to get some wood and make a treehouse for me within a day. It did take a little arguing on my part for him to not put any enchantments inside of the treehouse, but he relented soon enough.

It was a small, cute little thing. He built a ladder into the large oak tree, and put together a small house-looking abode. It was big enough to accommodate children, but once I hit puberty I would have to squat and crawl around to get around the room. He put in a couple tables, and we brought out an abundance of blankets and pillows and anti-flame-spreading candles.

Harry adored the treehouse, and he frequently went up there to read his beloved books. Sirius, thankfully, consented to our rule that no adults would be allowed inside of the tree house, and when the two of us went up, he would pull out the radio and sit outside listening to our laughter, and the music. Despite being a man child, Sirius was at loathe to let us out of his sight completely.

After obtaining the treehouse, I had to get the supplies to create an EMP. The hardware store had everything I needed, and thankfully Kreacher was more than capable of obtaining the items discreetly and dropping them off in my treehouse. I also had Kreacher pick up leather gloves, as a precaution against forensic evidence.

Then, it was time to create.

I headed up into the treehouse in the early morning, Harry quietly following behind me and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

He had another nightmare, that night, and had crawled into my bed. I didn’t particularly want him to see what I was making, but it wasn’t such a big deal that I felt the need to hide it. Harry was good at keeping secrets, and if I asked him not to tell anyone else, he wouldn’t.

We crawled into the treehouse, and the candles flickered alive upon us entering. Harry immediately went towards his corner of pillows and blankets and flopped down. I pulled up a tiny chair to the bench, and dumped out the supplies from the first bag Kreacher placed upon the bench. I rummaged through everything before I pulled out the soldering gun, and numerous battery packs. I would need to use quite a few of the batteries to power the soldering gun, since we had no electrical outlets.

I set to work creating the first EMP. The process took nearly two and a half hours (because I had to be meticulous, and double check everything. It would become faster after practice, but for now it was slow-going.

Harry stopped reading his book after I finished the first EMP and looked over at what I created. “What’s that, Rosie?”

“Secret,” I told him. “Can you keep it secret?”

“Yeah,” Harry said firmly, nodding his head as his eyes grew wide. “What is it?”

“An EMP. It disrupts electricity.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s what Muggles use in place of magic.”

“Why do you need that?”

“To help keep the stature of secrecy.”

“Why?”

I turned around and pinched his nose. “Ask me when you’re older.”

Harry’s nose crinkled in distaste, but he did not ask further. He always was such a good boy.

“Kids?” We popped our heads out of the treehouse’s window as Sirius stepped outside the backdoor.

Harry grinned and waved. “Up here, Uncle Paddy!”

Sirius waved back, smiling at us. “Want some breakfast?” Harry nodded eagerly and dropped down the tree house hole onto the thick grass below.

I didn’t need the EMPs. All I needed was the cloak of invisibility, a broom, the spells Wingardium Leviosa, Silencio, and Alohomora down pat. I had spent the past three years perfecting the past three spells to the best of my ability. I could perform them without the wand, but it took great concentration, and unfortunately I still needed to speak them.

The EMPs were to provide an explanation as to why the security cameras didn’t work. I would activate the EMPs when I reached the goal, and in the thirty seconds it took for security to notice the error and call the police, I would levitate as many of the items I could under the cloak and into the expandable pouch.

With the camera’s down, they wouldn’t see the levitations, and the statue of secrecy wouldn’t be overtly violated. While they swarmed the place, I would hide in a corner on my broom under the cloak. Even if Aurors came, the cloak was far too powerful and would hide me from them. Then, I would make my escape and return home.

I had to place the EMPs around the museum - even in parts that I wouldn’t go to - and set the timer on them to trigger in ten minutes after placing them.

It wasn’t a lot of them, but I figured this would have to be fast.

If all else failed, I had the emergency portkey Sirius gave each of us. I hoped not to use it - because it was a one-time use, and explaining to Sirius why I had to use a portkey would be tricky. But, it was there.

I descended upon the V&A museum in London, adrenaline and anxiety chorusing through me.

A part of me was thrilled - I was a thief! I was stealing! Like from Skyrim, or GTA.

In my previous life, I would have never considered it. I hadn’t even shoplifted before, yet here I was about to commit numerous illegal acts for the sake of a plan that I wasn’t even sure would work.

But, I needed the money. I needed the money and power fast if I wanted to do the things I needed to do.

I couldn’t access the Potter vault any time soon; nor was I talented enough to steal from Death Eaters (as I plan to do later).

All I had was my previous life’s knowledge of technology, and magic at my disposal.

And an undeniable urge to have no regrets this time around.

At least I could hopefully cross off Become an Art Thief off my bucket list after tonight.

I hovered before the back door of the museum before I raised my finger and went through the motions of Alohomora. It took three tries, but I finally got it and the door swung open. Then, moving as quickly as I could, I began to place the EMPs around each corner. I flew around the patrolling guards, and none of them noticed.

When I reached my goal: the crown jewelry room (filled with old royal crowns, uncut diamonds and other precious jewels, as well as antique and priceless jewels). I pulled out completely ordinary rocks from my expandable pouch, and took a deep breath.

1986: before bullet-proof glass was implemented in all museums, and perfect computer security.

My timer for the EMPs went off and I threw as many rocks as I could at the cases. I urged my broom forward, grabbing what I could and stuffing it into the expandable pouch, while levitating what was too far away towards me with my other hand. I heard shouts, as security officers sprinted through the hallways.

“Security is down! I can’t call for backup?!”

“We must have intruders, someone get the police!”

“Phones are down!”

When an officer came into the room I was in, I stopped everything, pulled the cloak tighter around me and began to make my escape. Thankfully, the EMPs worked a bit too well and the prevented the gates from coming down.

I was out the backdoor and soaring through the night sky again.

It wasn’t right, what he did. No matter how bad things got, deliberately harming children to get back at their parents was never going to the answer, nor was it forgivable. It was an awful, and cruel, thing to do.

But I could understand it.

Strictly from the psychological standpoint, at least. Shunned and forced into self-loathing isolation would permanently damage anyone’s psyche. Spending years alone, longing for acceptance but mercilessly turned away at every attempt would break even the strongest men. In addition, society itself would go out of its way to harm him for simply existing. Werewolves were the snubbed-ilk that society perpetually spat upon and conveniently looked the other way when it suited their needs. Anyone would grow bitter from that. Anyone would want justice, would want someone to know how unfair society was.

Fenrir Grayback made it his life goal to convert as many as he could, to force society to acknowledge werewolves and force them to accept them.

For someone left uneducated, alone, and consistently spurned, it was the only idea he had; the only hope he had.

So while his actions were deplorable, and unforgivable, I could understand them.

And I detested the magical society more so for it.

I didn’t understand how I knew where to find him—didn’t understand how I knew to send the owl addressed to Fenris Gray. It was one of those odd things that floated in my mind and I had to wonder if maybe I read about it on Pottermore, or something.

I made a little basket with food, water, and basic medical supplies. I added a thick blanket because it was cold, and I knew he would be sleeping outside. Then I made a little letter:

To Fenrir,

You do not know me, and we will not meet for some time. You may call me Enáretos, and you should know that I am on the side of the werewolves. I hope the basket helps you.

Your friend,

Enáretos

A small and simple gesture, but it was the first step I had to take.

If I wanted to fix the prejudice in society, I had to acknoledge its mistakes and try to make it right.

There would be about a years’ worth of stealing, with Dumbledore growing suspicious. During this year the MC would continue to send care baskets to Fenrir, who would distrubute them to over werewolves on her behalf. A sense of trust is built between the two, and more of Fenrir’s backstory is explained.

At long last I had the money.

A part of me still felt a built guilty from stealing—especially from perfectly nice places—but the guilt was shoved aside in favor of how the end justified the means. I had never put my stock into that saying before, but I honestly believed my cause warranted a little flexibility with the law. I was, physically, a child. The idea of sharing my knowledge with the “adults” of the world sent me into a quivering mess that I knew I would never be able to reach out for help willingly. I could—I supposed—wait until I was physically an adult, but the idea of waiting around and letting others suffer for decades because I couldn’t handle a little rule breaking made me sick. It seemed like a pretty flimsy excuse to me, especially since I could always purchase back the items I pawned off with my Potter inheritance as an adult and give it back to the museums. Or donate their value anonymously.

Returning to the point, however.

I had the money.

Using Enáretos I purchased a large stretch of land—nearly a thousand acres of land—and began to put well over half my sum of money into putting up defenses, and building empty homes and shops inside of it. I hired people to build large concrete walls with barbed wires to discourage muggles from trying to enter, and I ordered them to pave roads and plant trees. I ordered the construction of several dozen greenhouses, and hired a handful of magical herbologists to begin growing the ingredients necessary for wolfsbane potion. I hired Gringotts to put up the best wards money could buy—and boy did they cost me a pretty sum, but I hoped it would be worth it.

The whole project would take a year, which would give me time to bribe the officials and press in preparation of what was to come.

I only hoped it would work.

The first party I bribed was one of the neutral parties, led by Lord Greengrass. They sat square in the middle of most of the debates, barely swaying to either side unless it benefited them directly. I sent them pretty things, and dangerous things. I sent Lord Greengrass precious gems I had personally stolen, and I knew his daughters would adore them. The party treated my bribes with no obvious response, likely waiting to see what I wanted from them. Through letters as Enáretos I only hinted at wanting to build a sanctuary for several months. It wasn’t until the leader of the party himself asked me directly what I wanted that I answered with care.

A sanctuary for werewolves.

I would pay for it, provide security for it, and handle the distribution of wolfsbane. It didn’t need to cost their party a dime, and it would do nothing to harm them to support me. The party didn’t care for what was right or wrong, they only cared about self-serving, and their families. So I painted them pretty words of how it would put their families at ease if all the werewolves were kept in a safe place, and not forced to run wild and risk random attack. I waxed gentle pictures of how my sanctuary could—in a few years of production—turn into Britain’s largest provider of rare herbs, and save Ministry a small fortune in having to important.

I told them I would consider it a favor if they supported its construction.

And after a total of nine months of bribing, and wheedling, I had their support. Lord Greengrass even offered to be the one to put forward my proposed bill since I—Enáretos—would not be able to attend.

I accepted his offer with gracious thanks.

The next party I curried favors to was not nearly as hard to persuade. It was Madam Longbottom’s party, the more Light-Conservatives. I knew she would take offense to bribes, so I skipped straight to a long-winded debate that lasted five months. Madam Longbottom wasn’t adhered to her prejudice of werewolves, but she didn’t see the value in assisting them, either. Eventually I was able to wear her down by arguing about how it was the ethically right thing to do in a manner that made her think of her lost son.

Low-blow, I knew, but a necessary one.

Next I courted Amelia Bones and fellow law-lovers, using how practical it would be for her aurors if the werewolves lived one place; of how safer it would make the public, etc. She only took a month.

To my friend,

I’m sure you have already heard the whispers of my plan.

Yes. It is true. I hope to create a safe haven for all werewolves to live in peace. I know it will take time for me to change society to fully accept those afflicted with the curse, but in the mean time I wish to give your fellow brothers and sisters some peace. I will personally provide security for the establishment until such a time that they can provide their own law-enforcement inside. I have already set up several businesses that are more than happy to relocate and provide merchandise. I have two healers who are happy to follow their families into the sanctuary and offer their care, and one potions master—so far—who will brew the wolfsbane potion.

I know it is not the solution you want, but I hope it will provide a safe space for until the time I have fixed society.

I must thank you for your patience and belief in me, my friend. I have sent several more blankets and basic first-aid to help those you come across. Please enjoy the cookies I baked, as well.

Your friend,

Enáretos

PS: Dolores Umbridge is a viable threat to my haven. It would be helpful if she could come to understand your situation better.

To my friend,

Elena sends her thanks for the food, and my pack expresses excitement in the prospect of having a home. It feels strange to say, and had anyone else but you told me about it I would not have believed. I have scouted the land, and watched them work for a few months now. I know those wards were not cheap, and the gardens look nice.

Have you thought of a name yet?

Your friend,

Fenris

I think Umbridge will see our view in a new light on the fifteenth.

To Rita Skeeter:

My dear, we haven’t had much chance to talk, but I thought you might want a little tidbit of juicy information. Umbrdige has been ramping up bills against werewolves for the past few months for a reason.

I think you’ll be able to find that wonderful reason if you catch her on the fifteenth this month, after the moon has risen.

Happy hunting,

Enáretos

End, for now.

By the time Hogwarts rolls around I plan to establish Enáretos as a powerful political figure in support for equality. MC will be sorted into Slytherin with the express purpose of "saving” the house. She’ll use intimidation, bribes, and blackmail to rule over Slytherin and slowly convert others to her side. That’s the plan, at least.

#Fanfiction #Harry Potter #OC #Slytherin #fenrir greyback #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Werewolves #Pro Equality #Thief

30 notes · View notes

themarchblessing · 6 years

Text

EPILOGUE

Dos Años Más Tarde...

COREY

“Oh..Elle!” I called out. Hopping off the last step I made a quiet advance toward the kitchen. When I stepped inside I instantly went to the pantry. The door is cracked and I can see the pink glitter from Elle’s slippers surrounding the bottom of the door. I decided that I would play with her a bit longer just so she thinks she’s gotten over on me.

“Oh princess Ellena! Where is my beautiful princess?” I called again. Faint giggles from the kitchen almost made me burst into laughter. I’ve come up with all kinds of silly names for Elle and she loves them all. Her favorite is princess. She giggles up a storm when I call her that. And if I call out to her in a funny voice, she’ll definitely laugh.

I stumbled around the house for another ten minutes winding back up in front of the pantry. “I wonder where she is.” I mumbled. Dramatically pulling the door back I spotted Elle holding her jar of cookies, crushing them. “Well would you look at that. The princess got hungry huh?”

She turned her head up at me and did exactly as I thought she would. “Ow me.” she cheesed, pushing her hair out of her face.

“Oh yeah I found you alright. You gonna share some with me? You gonna share with papa?” I asked, leading her out of the closet. Closing the door I took Elle out to the back porch. We lay in the hammock watching people walk down to the beach.

“Daddy..” She said.

Looking at her I opened my mouth to accept the cookie she was giving me. She used my head for support as we took in the beautiful view from here. Seeing my daughter grow up before my eyes over these last two years has really turned me into a soft ass man. Elle gets whatever she wants from me because she’s the baby. Just like her mother and Zay I buy it all. If Elle asks, she gets. I can’t say no to her. Sabrina and sometimes Zay have to step in and be the enforcers so the balance of power is just right.

I’ve also gotten extremely close with Izaiah over the last year. He’s been curious to know about his childhood and how he got here. Sabrina faced one of her biggest fears and had that talk with him. Zay had a lot of questions and Lori provided him with more than enough in response. He still gets a little upset every now and then when he realizes that I wasn’t around to watch him grow up for so many years. Like when Elle said her first word, took her first steps, stood up on her own, and things like that, Zay will distance himself from us.

I never take his anger to heart but I do empathize with my son. And I also feel angry with myself at times for the same reason. All I have been doing is reminding my boy how much I love him, how proud of him I am, and that I promise to be there for him until I’m no longer living. When Zay does get in one of his moods, Sabrina gets really emotional because she blames herself for it all. She puts all the blame on herself for Izaiah and I building our relationship when he was six instead of when he was a baby. I then have to remind Lori that the way our lives ran its course is not her fault.

We’ve both had numerous conversations about accepting our separate journeys for what the are. Neither of us can change the past but we are learning to live with our paths in life.

“Papa, is mama?” Elle asked, sharing the other half of her cookie with me.

“She’s out shopping but she’ll be back soon. You miss mama?” Lifting my hand I ran my hand over and through her curls. She and Zay both have hair like their mama. Sabrina has these pretty, deep set shaped curls that never lose their shape. In fact after she had Elle, her hair got even curlier, kinkier too. Izaiah has much looser curls that he shockingly still doesn’t want to cut off. And Elle, well her locks are kind of a mix of Zay and her mother. She’s the lightest of the family, complexion wise. Diane is definitely the reason behind my daughters skin tone.

“Yeah.” She nodded.

Elle and I chilled outside for a good while enjoying this weather. Izaiah came home and was in a super good mood so I took the kids to the beach. Elle loves playing in the sand. She always asks me to pick up seashells with her and of course I help her. Every time we leave the beach with new shells I clean them, dry them, and set them in this big glass vase in her bedroom. She’s got these shelves on her wall that we house her favorite things on. Her seashells being one of her top favorite things in the world. I’m sure she’ll ask to count them all out some day.

Because Elle is evolving as a child so rapidly we often let her pick out her outfits now. She likes having a sense of herself when she gets dressed. As her parents, Bri and I feel it’s important to give her the chance to choose what she wears. Two days out of the week she will only wear this one particular set of pajamas all day long. Ravyn came to visit for Elle’s birthday last year and gifted her a set of footie pajamas that have bunny ears and a fake tail. Elle instantly asked for Sabrina to change her clothes. So in the middle of unwrapping her gifts she got changed into her bunny pajamas.

Another big change aside from her trying to talk more is that she’s teething really bad and we’re in the potty training stage. Her gums have been so inflamed for the last couple of weeks because she’s got more teeth coming in. So being that she’s in so much oral pain I give her a lot of soft foods. Yogurt, peaches, bread, grapes, macaroni and cheese is her favorite now, ice cream and just anything that won’t hurt her gums more.

Bri hates that I let Elle eat the way she does but nothing else helps to soothe her mouth. When she starts crying Bri will try and use this safe to swallow ointment that Elle’s pediatrician gave us but lil mama can’t stand it. We hate seeing her fuss about her incoming teeth so we just let her eat all the soft foods she likes. As far as the potty training goes baby girl is getting the hang of it pretty well. I cry sometimes watching her reach certain goals. She’s our little girl and the sight of her growing up scares me.

By the time we got back in the house it was well after sunset. Izaiah ducked off to take his shower leaving me the time to bathe Elle. She more so ended up playing with her toys for the first half of the bath. Then she started fussing about how cold she was so I made her put her toys up so she could get clean.

Picking up her nightgown I fitted it over her head, fanning out the fabric around her little body. Elle went into another one of her baby rampages where she mentioned food and some other things I didn’t quite understand. Once her hair was brushed and she had her favorite princess shoes on, it was dinner time.

I still cook most of the time and I still don’t mind. Truthfully I enjoy cooking more today than I ever have. Being able to feed my family brings me the greatest sense of pride and happiness. Elle and Zay are in the kitchen with me every time we’re about to eat. Elle usually watches us while she plays with her makeshift kitchen toys.

Sometimes Sabrina is down here with us and other times she’s sleeping. Ever since we broke Elle off from breastfeeding, Lori has been napping a lot more. Seeing Elle come off the boob was a huge milestone for us as parents. Sabrina expected to breastfeed for at least a year but that went on to being one year and ten months. Sabrina feels like her old self again not having to share her body anymore. Except with me of course. Now that our kids no longer need their mama to supply them with nutrition, I get all of my wife back. Every square inch of Sabrina Delores Howard is mine and I’m thrilled. She makes constant jokes about how I used to get jealous when Elle wanted to feed for hours. Technically her body was Zay’s first, then it became mine, and then Elle arrived but she’s all mine again.

“Guys!” Mommy’s home. Elle sat upright and turned around looking for her mama. “Donde estan todos!” Bri sang cheerily.

“Mama..” she mumbled. Her arm was outstretched as she kept a lookout. I couldn’t help but smile at how badly Elle wants to see Lori.

“Sit still baby so you don’t fall. Zay, I got this. Go make sure she doesn’t try to jump off the counter.” I can handle dinner by myself right now but I need to make sure Elle won’t hurt herself waiting to see her mom. Zay stood directly in front of Elle to keep her entertained for the time being. Although she realized her brother was the distraction she enjoyed the attention.

Izaiah adores the hell out of his baby sister. She is the perfect child in his eyes. For a boy he doesn’t mind letting Elle play in his room all day long if she tries. He reads to her, watches movies with her if me and Bri are too tired or I’m working on a project or something. He’ll help her eat, brush her hair, and whatever else she wants to do. For a kid who’s on his way to going through puberty in a few short years, he’s not a dick to her. Which is a good sign on Lori’s and especially mine’s behalf. My dad didn’t allow me to be that stereotypical angry black boy. He made sure I used my manners, respected family, worked for everything I wanted and was always kind to loved ones.

The same way my dad was with me, I’m like that with my son. He’s always been a nice kid but the influences of today’s world and kids his own age could change that. Not with who Izaiah’s parents are. We aren’t raising a dickhead for a son.

Lori rounded the corner looking as beautiful as always. The lights caught her rings and then I noticed she did something to her hair. She had her hair blown out looking dark brown with blond-ish highlights fading out towards the end of her hair. Putting the bread in the oven I shut the door and went to take these bags off Bri’s hands.

“Thank you, this stuff is heavy.” She said right away.

“What you got in here anyway?” I asked. Bri kissed me softly and began getting comfortable.

“More pull ups, a few cleaning supplies, and some groceries. You’re cooking early?”

“Thank your daughter. She was getting ready to throw a fit after her bath so I went ahead and got started. She’s been waiting on you. You changed your hair. What for?” Putting only the groceries she brought away I washed my hands and went right back to cooking.

“Yeah..I wanted to do something a little different. I’ve never colored my hair before so I took a risk. You like it?” Looking up from the cutting board I nodded.

“Yeah I like it. It’s different but it suits you.”

“Thank you. Three hours is how long I sat on my butt for her to do this.” She huffed, going over to where Zay and Elle were. “Hi mama’s babies. I missed you guys so much.” They soaked up every second of Lori’s affection. Zay talked her briefly as he came back over to join me.

“When is it due?” Bri asked picking Elle up off the counter.

“Next month. My teacher is giving us three weeks to work on it but I’m already half way done.” Zay checked on the bread first and then he went into the refrigerator to take something out.

“You smell so good my love. You have fun with your daddy and bubba?” Bri smothered lil mama in kisses as she sat across from me.

“Yeah.” Elle nodded.

“How’s your mouth, baby? Is it still hurting?”

“Yeah.” She replied again sounding sleepy.

“Can mommy see?” Elle let Bri check inside her mouth to look for any new signs of teeth.

“Nothing yet?” I spoke up.

Bri told Elle to close her mouth since she was all done. “No sign of her back molars yet but I can tell where they’re going to come in. Her bottom gums are red again.” Bri took out some applesauce and began feeding it to Elle. “I hope this doesn’t last much longer. I hate seeing her in pain.” Bri complained.

“It’ll pass. And besides all her teeth are almost in. She’ll be okay as long as you keep that stuff out of her mouth.” I warned in reference to that cream.

“I know she hates it but that’s what it’s for Corey. She used to be okay with it.” Bri frowned briefly letting her face settle after about a minute. “Here baby..” spooning more applesauce into Elle’s mouth Bri picked up a nearby rag to place over her clothes. Elle can be a messy eater in this terrible two stage that she’s in.

We’ve had enough outfit changes from feedings alone to supply four families with for a whole winter season. That’s how badly Elle can ruin her clothes. And it only happens when she tries to consume too much at once or when she feeds herself. She’s getting much better with getting the spoon in her mouth with all the food on it though. I do give her that.

“How’s your mom doing? Is she ready to move down here?” Bri’s mom has to move close to us due to her health declining. Bri puts a brave face in front of the kids but when it’s just us, she breaks down quite often.

Sighing deeply, Bri finished feeding Elle in silence. I saw what me asking did to her mood so I put that conversation on the back burner until we get alone. I don’t want her to be upset about her mom in front of the kids so I changed the subject. Izaiah noticed and jumped in to help me out.

Sabrina didn’t say much when it was time to eat. She was silent setting up our table, fixing Elle, Izaiah’s and my plate. When we all sat down she was completely tuned in to assisting the baby with her food. Every so often she would respond to something that one of us said so she didn’t mentally shut everyone out. She was on her way to helping Zay with his school work until I stepped in. I let Bri have some time to herself hoping that by the time I get in the room she’ll be in a better mood.

“Is mom okay?” Putting away his art supplies for his project Izaiah sat back on his bed.

Sitting forward with my elbows on my knees I cupped my hands over my mouth.

“Dad?” Zay called quietly. He carefully got off the bed not wanting to wake up lil mama. It’s past her bedtime and if she wakes up it’s going to be damn near impossible to get her down again. Zay closed his door and stood in front of me. “What’s wrong with mama? Is she mad at you?” He asked.

“Nah. She’s not mad at anybody. Your grandma is moving down here to be closer to us. However, it’s the reason behind grandma’s move here that has your mom so upset.” I explained.

“Is grandma sick?”

“Yeah, she’s not doing too well. She’ll be here by the end of the month and it’s scaring your mom. So if you ever see her get really quiet or distant, or she looks like she’s about to cry, be her shoulder. Do whatever you have to to ensure that your mom knows you love her. I’d never wish anything bad on anyone we love but if something does happen to your grandmother, mommy is gonna need a lot of love. From me, you, and Elle. She needs us right now.”

The tightness in my chest and that massive urge to throw up hit me like a ton of bricks. I can’t believe I just said that out loud. I never ever wish any negativity on those I care about. But the reality of the situation is the that Diane isn’t as healthy as she used to be. Losing her husband did her in. That’s when she started to go downhill emotionally. Sabrina’s father dying really affected Diane to her core.

I guess talking about my mother-in-law hit more nerves than I thought. I didn’t start crying in front of my kids because I fought the urge with all my might. I talked to Izaiah for a while about how he can help comfort Bri if she starts to lose it. Elle is back in her bed sound asleep. Now it’s time to check on Sabrina. Walking down the hall I stepped in the room sensing a lot of weird energy.

“Bri?” I said. Turning the corner I walked to the bathroom to find Lori standing in the shower, motionless. She was facing the backyard letting the water pour out over her head. I gave her company whether she was prepared for it or not.

I stepped behind her tracing over her tattoos. She noticeably relaxed under my touch. Seeing her react to my sense of touch hit me deeply, making me understand just how much of an effect on my girl I have.

“I can’t lose her Corey.” She sniffled. “I can’t lose her too.”

I knew this would happen. I knew mentioning her mother earlier on would cause her to break down once she wasn’t in front of Elle or Izaiah. It’s not in my nature to sugar coat but the first thought that came to mind would hurt her feelings. Now is not the time for me to blunt but I can’t mask my honesty.

So rather than causing my wife more hurt I said this instead, “you’ll never lose her. She’s always gonna be with you Sabrina. Always. Just like your dad. Everyday since he’s been watching over you, helping to guide you and protect you.”

“My tio said she’s happy to be moving down here. I however thinks she’s in denial about the meaning behind her relocation. I just hope she can handle this transition okay. After all she’s leaving behind her home and the life she’s known for so long.” Bri threw her head back, squeezing the bridge of her nose with her eyes shut.

Using my hands to gather her hair I set it over her shoulder leaving me plenty of area to play with. “She’s gonna be okay. She’s got a hell of a daughter looking after her. And I know she loves you so much.”

“I just don’t know how I’m gonna deal with losing another parent. And I don’t need you to tell me that death is inevitable because I know that. But that doesn’t make loss any less painful.” Bri turned around to face me. I could see the pain in her eyes as she decreased any space between us. Her head fell to my shoulder, one arm she threw behind my back, and the other across my free shoulder.

“Why are you thinking about losing her already? I could see if your mom was laid up in a hospital but she’s not. She’s still in her prime and you have to believe that. Stop getting ahead of yourself and just live in the moment.” I advised hugging her back. As we stood here chest to chest I thought over possible ways to make Diane’s move easy for us all. After all these years of being in the states, mama Guerrero is coming back to live in her home country.

Somewhere deep down inside I know Lori is happy to have her mother close to her again. It was my idea to get Diane a house just twenty minutes from ours to begin with. The idea came from Lori storming in the house, screaming about her mom going to the ER. This was on the first of this month. She was beyond panicking. Sabrina was all “we have to go” and “we can’t stay here anymore”. Basically saying we need to move to California.

I was against it only because of Izaiah and Elle. Izaiah has moved around and switched schools enough. Even though Ellena is still very young I couldn’t bare the pain of turning her world upside down. A move would only confuse and upset her. I didn’t want to put our kids through a drastic change in lifestyle regardless of how young they are. Sabrina and I have worked very hard on our home and to maintain the lifestyle we’ve grown so accustomed to.

“No matter what happens Lori, I got you for life.” I vowed. Lifting the arm she had on my shoulder I kissed her hand and each of her fingers.

Bri fingered the back of my neck melting in my embrace. “And I thank you. You know you’re never leaving me right?” She stated. Her sass does nothing short of turn me on.

“Why would I ever want to? You ain’t going nowhere either. You’re stuck with me forever. Your soul wouldn’t be able to rest without mine anyways so be ready for the rest of our lives and afterlife to be just like this. I was the first and the last to ever put a ring on your finger and give you beautiful babies. Ain’t no nigga other than me raising my kids.” I joked.

Lori fell out laughing cause she knows I’m right and seeing her happy is all I ever want.

“Ay, eres un pesado..” Standing up right Lori ran her fingers through my hair. The act was relaxing enough to make me close my eyes. “Your mom told me that I’m the best partner she’s ever seen you with. And we both know there have been a lot of women.”

“A hell of a lot of you.” I nodded. She slapped my shoulder because of what I said.

“Anyways...she’s very proud that you quit hoeing around and settled down. So is your dad.”

“I wasn’t hoeing around. I wasn’t content keeping any old girl around. Settling is not my style. Maybe testing the waters and seeing what else is out there but never settle.”

“What about me?”

Opening one eye I saw how serious she was. Quickly I looked at her through both eyes and told her, “you my love are an exception. The difference between you and the rest of them is that I didn’t have to find you. You were always there and I couldn’t be happier for it.”

She smirked. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. We’re gonna last. I know that for sure. But you will always be my best friend Lori. First and foremost. That’s not gonna change for anybody or anything.” I have no doubts that Sabrina and I will be each other’s last. No doubts whatsoever.

The End.

#the march blessing #short story

21 notes · View notes

malum-af-cth · 6 years

Text

time after time

Summary: You and Ashton have been trying for a baby, it hasn’t been really working out, and you have been struggling. (Lol Father’s Day USA.)

Pairing: Ashton x Reader (lace)

Warnings: Angst, mention of miscarriage

a/n: this literally took me forever to write I started writing it like a year ago. Today I sat down reevaluated what I had and finished it. This is what I got. :) thanks for reading.

Word Count: 1878 ish

masterlist.

I had just gotten back from the store with another box of pregnancy tests. I had run out a couple days ago, and I was gonna need some more. Ashton and I had been trying for a baby again for a few months, and we had not had any luck.

I got out of my car in the parking garage of our building and made my way upstairs to our apartment. I was hoping that Ashton wouldn’t be home so I could hide the new box of tests and clean up a little before he came home.

I made my way to the front door and went inside. I decided to hide the box of tests somewhere that my husband would never look, the spice cabinet. Once I put the tests behind the cinnamon and garlic salt, I made my way to the bedroom to get the laundry.

Washing my clothes and Ashton’s was going to take a while seeing how he had just gotten back from tour about three weeks ago. It had been about three days since the rest of his belongings had arrived at our apartment. While I was going through some of his clothes, I found some new ones. I assumed that some of the shirts could have belonged to the other boys, but Ash had probably bought some things while he was traveling.

This wasn’t our first time trying for a baby. We had attempted before, we were successful, in the beginning. I was pregnant for about five months. Then one night when I woke up, with a sharp pain in my stomach.

“ahhhhhhhhhh” I screamed, clutching my stomach. The pain I felt in my stomach was like no other. It was worse than any period cramp I had ever experienced. I could feel the bed shift next to me as Ashton was waking up. He immediately turned on his bedside lamp and then quickly held me by my shoulders trying to comfort me.

“Babe, what’s wrong? Are you ok? Is it the baby?” he said slowly rubbing my back trying to soothe me.

“It’s my stomach, I think it is the baby,” I said frantically, “we need to go to the hospital now!”

“ughhhhhhhhhh!” I screamed again, the pain was excruciating. I couldn’t see as well, due to the pain. From what I could hear Ashton was quickly putting on some clothes, as I sat trying to understand what was going on with my body. I could hear him shuffling around the room, and then I felt him helping me up off the bed. As I got up, I saw a blur of red on our white bed sheets.

I pulled some of the clothes that I had washed and dried out of the dryer to fold them. I took the bundle of clothes to our bedroom, along the way there, I saw a small bag on the floor hidden under a table in the hall. I had finished putting away the clean clothes when my thoughts were brought back to that small bag I saw on the floor. I picked it up and looked inside, I saw a small piece of clothing and pulled it out. As I looked at it, I realized that is was a baby onesie. It was black with long sleeves, and footie covers. On the front it read, “rock out with your blocks out.” it also had a picture of some blocks that resembled legos. I slowly ran my fingers across the front of the outfit, craving the feeling that being pregnant had brought me.

I was so engrossed by the memory of my miscarriage, I hadn’t realized that I had been crying. I wiped the tears from my face and placed the onesie back in the bag. I put the bag back where I got it from. I was feeling curious and impatient, so decided to go see if I was pregnant yet.

I pulled the test from its hiding spot and made my way to the bathroom. I was nervous, a little more than normal. This was the first time I was taking a test this week, and it was only Tuesday. I began pacing around the bathroom, waiting for the need to pee come back. I had been drinking a lot of water earlier with the intent to be able to take this test.

To say I was afraid would have been an understatement. I was trying everything just to pee. I turned on the sink and thought about water. I even thought about doing some kind of rain dance just because I thought the constant moving would work, and I got lucky because it did. I had to practically run to the bathroom without tripping. I knew Ashton was gonna be home soon.

I was afraid of him coming home while I was waiting for the results and it not being positive. I didn’t want to disappoint him again. Ashton and I have been together long enough for me to know how his brain worked. Being a father has always been at the top of his list of goals. I couldn’t stop laughing the first night we ever talked about having a future together.

“I mean just imagine it, Lace having four or five jr’s running around the house,” he explained walking around the living room. This was the most animated I have ever seen him be about something that was not music related.

“Ash, baby, we have only been dating for four months, and you already want kids?” I knew he didn’t want to have kids unless we were married, but at this moment I knew teasing him would bring me more humor than the show playing on the tv behind him.

I had thought that he barely heard me, but after I asked him my question, he stopped in his tracks, put his forefinger and thumb on his chin as he was thinking. The next thing I knew he ran over to me on the couch. Scooped me, my blanket, and my water bottle up in his arms and ran to the bedroom.

“Ashton Fletcher, what on earth are you doing?” I said trying not to fall or drop anything.

“We definitely are not ready to have kids yet, but we should probably start practicing for the future…” he said with a chuckle and a wink.

I laughed at the memory, knowing that at this rate we had learned that practice doesn't make perfect. At least in our book, it made progress. I was just about to check the results when I heard Ashton yelling for me from the kitchen. I quickly shoved the test in the bathroom drawer without looking and went out to greet him.

“Hey babe, did you just get home?” I said rearing the corner to see Ash with Mitchy Collins and Josh Raven. They were all drinking beer and chilling. I walked over to Ash who was sitting on our island, gave him a kiss, stole his beer and went to the couch.

I loved his friends because they were my friends too, but I was a little too stressed out right now to deal with anyone other than my husband.

Ashton had started to respond when I heard Josh say, “Welp, I guess that's our cue to leave mitch.” He and I had been pretty good friends since ash helped Josh and his band with some music. I heard them start to say their goodbye’s. I didn’t want them to leave because I was having a moment, so I went back over to Ash and gave him his beer back.

“You guys don’t have to leave, I just need ya’ll out in about an hour,” I said with a smile. Turning to ash, I whispered in his ear, “You are good to have them here for a bit, I am okay. But don’t forget you are the one who wanted to do a little practicing when you got home today.” I heard him release a heavy breath as I pulled away. I took another sip of his beer, set it in his hand. Bid adieu to our friends, each with a hug, and went to my office to get some work done while they were hanging out.

The guys were at our house for another half hour before I heard Ashton going into our bathroom, and a partial panic arose inside of me. I had forgotten about the test and was kind of hoping to find out if we had been successful or not before him. I never wanted him to be disappointed again. I knew I couldn’t protect him forever.

So I got up from my desk and started to make my way to our bathroom. As I got closer I heard a faint sobbing, I started to walk slower, afraid of what I was about to encounter. Seeing Ashton with the test was what I was expecting, but it still took the breath out of my lungs. I wanted to rush to his side and comfort him because his reaction was leading me to believe the worst right now, but when he stood up, turned to me, a smile spread to his face, I knew I could have hope.

He wiped away his tears and asked me with his eyes when, and how long I knew. At that moment I couldn’t wait any longer I ran to him and hugged him in the hope that we had become a full family again.

“Ashton, what does it say?” I asked with my arms wrapped tightly around him, hoping for the best. Afraid to let go and find out the worst. He rubbed my back with his free hand and then pulled away. We were still so close that our foreheads were resting on each other and he started to speak softly.

“Baby, we did it. We made progress.” with his words; I opened my eyes and looked at his hand to see the two pink stripes. I was finally able to breathe again. I looked up at my husband again brought my hands to his face and kissed him like there was no tomorrow.

We were soon out of breath but in such a desperate need for each other. I could feel my husband start to back us up into the hallway.

“Josh, Mitchy!” he yelled, and the boys popped their heads around the corner “um so… my wife is pregnant, and I gotta make sure my kid stays in there this time. So ima need you assholes to get out of my house so I can make love to her.” the boys looked at each other, then back at us. I was now leaning against the wall with Ashton towering over me, his left hand on the wall and his right on my waist, my arms wrapped around his torso and my right foot on the wall behind me. I heard them scrambling shouting their final goodbyes and rushing out the door.

Ashton chuckled as his friends' actions, shook his head and turned his focus back to me. I could see the glow of happiness in his eyes, and at that moment I was ready to do this again with the love of my life.

He brought his lips to my ear and whispered the most beautiful thing I’d heard all day, “Now where were we my love? Ah, yes celebrating our victory.”

tags: @5sexonds-of-smut @ghostofbabylon @winkwinkluke @irwinstuffs

#ashton irwin #ashton fletcher irwin #ashton irwin 5sos #ashton irwin 5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer #5 secs of summer #5sos #5sos imagine #5sauce #ashton irwin imagine #ashton imagine

54 notes · View notes

heathergoffrier · 4 years

Text

17 Insanely Powerful Tips For Getting Newborn To Sleep At Night

When you struggle getting newborn to sleep, you miss your own rest and time to get stuff done. Discover 17 hacks to help baby sleep and give you a break! Also, get my Top 6 Newborn Sleep Tips- free download! SEND ME THE SLEEP TIPS This is the fourth post in my "Newborn Sleep" Series. Be sure to check out the other posts in the series and stay tuned for new additions!

We hope you enjoy the products we recommend! This post may contain affiliate links. That means we get a portion of the commission if you click through and make a purchase, but you don't pay a cent more. Thank you for supporting our small business as we strive to help you rock mom life! I remember one night I had the hardest time getting my newborn to sleep. I had tried everything I could think of to soothe her, and I was exhausted. She had eaten, she was tired, and she had a clean diaper. I was ready to give up trying, and I felt like a failure. Why won't this baby stop crying?!?! After going down the list of everything I could think of, I decided to look at her more closely to see if I could find anything wrong. As I searched, I finally found the reason for her distress: My baby had one of my long hairs wrapped between her fingers. I don't know why it bugged her so much, but once I removed it, she went happily to sleep. Babies are a mystery, and sometimes they cry for no reason. However, often they have a reason for their complaining, and it's up to us as moms to figure it out. And a new mom, you might not know that you have a ton of resources, hacks, and tools available to help you troubleshoot what's keeping your baby awake. Here's a list of tips to help you get your infant to sleep, so you can get some sleep as well!

17 Insanely Powerful Tips For Getting Newborn To Sleep At Night

1- Infant Fighting Sleep? Check For Something Bothering Baby Sometimes babies just cry. But often there is something legit bothering them, and it's up to us moms to sleuth it out. Start by checking: Is baby's crib under a vent and they don't like air blowing on them? Are they too cold and need another layer or sleep sack? Is baby too hot and needs you to take off a layer or adjust room temperature?Are they not feeling well or have a fever?Wet diaper?Piece of hair in their pjs, mouth or stuck between their toes or fingers?Is something stuck inside their footie pajamas that you didn't see in the laundry.Do they need to burp?Fingers or toes stuck in a weird position inside clothing? Did a sleep sack rotate around or get stuck underneath them so they can't kick their feet?Swaddling baby at night? Maybe the swaddle came loose or is too tight. 2- Create A Bedtime Routine I know that since newborns sleep all the time, it's hard to feel like they have a "bedtime." But it's good to start carving out the time in your mind that you'd like their bedtime to be, even if you get them up for a dream feed and they wake during the night. Carry out baby's nightly routine in the same order each time. For example: Bath time, diaper, lotion, pjs, sing a song, *nursing/bottle, snuggle until almost asleep, then gently set in bed. *If you’re using a Dream feed in the later evening and you just fed baby recently, put them to down to bed before another feed. Then get up for the dream feed (learn more in my Top 6 Newborn Sleep Tips below!)

SEND ME THE SLEEP TIPS 3- Getting Newborn To Sleep With A Bathtime Before Bed A regular bath time before bed can be a soothing part of the bedtime routine. We actually didn't do nightly baths, but I know many moms who loved including it as part of the routine. We gave baths 1-3 times per week, but if baby was especially fussy we would be sure to include bath time. Baths can have a calming affect on babies, and as their body temperature gradually cools after bath time, it can naturally help them drift off (as long as they're not getting TOO cold!). One reason we didn't bathe every night is that our kids are prone to dry skin and eczema, and bathing too often can dry a baby's skin out. However, every baby is different, so take some time and observation to discover what works best for your baby and your family. 4- Watch Baby For Sleep Cues Babies give clues to when they're ready to sleep, and they aren't always what you think. In fact, sometimes it will seem like your baby is wide awake and ready to party, but if you lay them down for a nap they'll go right to sleep. Learning sleep cues is a must for every mom because it will help you know exactly when to get baby down for a nap. You may have been looking for ways to help baby sleep when what you actually need to know is when to put them down. Here are some examples of sleep cues: YawningRubbing eyesWide-eyed stareGetting fussyAvoiding eye contactActing quieter and more calm For a complete list of sleep cues, check out this post. One thing I learned from the book "Secrets Of The Baby Whisperer" is to put baby down by the third yawn. Or you could say, once you've seen three sleep cues they should already be in bed. 5- Choose Soft Bedding That Doesn't Chafe When we had our first daughter, my sister in law gave me some great advice about crib bedding. She said that as cute as some patterns and nursery decor can be, some of those materials can be hard on baby's skin. Over time, those cute but low quality fabrics can be like an annoying tag on the back of your shirt-- itchy, irritating and maybe even causing a rash. Instead, she recommended chenille for all crib bedding, which can help prevent baby's face from getting red and raw from a low quality material. I took her advice, and I've been very happy that my babies' faces stayed soft and healthy, and they didn't have sleep issues because of any chafing on their skin.

For our oldest's nursery, we used cute designs on the changing pad instead of the crib sheets. 6- A Night Light When my kids were babies they didn't need a nightlight. But as they got older (around 18 months) they seemed to like having a light in their rooms. Deciding to give them a nightlight wasn't an exact science. On a night they were particularly fussy, we thought, "Hmmm maybe they'd like some light." When we plugged it in and they seemed to sleep better, we kept it ever since. Parenting is a lot of trial and error: you try things and figure out what works and what doesn't. It takes time and a bit of frustration sometimes, but you will learn a ton about your child in the process. But I will say that having a nightlight has helped my kiddos settle down in their rooms, so it's worth a shot if you don't already use one When your kids get older you might want a cute decorative or character nightlight. But in the early stages, one with an on/off switch is really handy. Then you can pop it on for the diaper change and to get situated for a feed. If you have a soft light bulb, it will light the room without overstimulating baby. 7- To Diaper Change, or Not? When feeding baby at night, one thing to test is whether or not you need to change baby's diaper. I would have loved to skip the diaper change, and many moms swear that avoiding it helps their babies go right back to sleep. But my babies were pee-machines, and they hated being wet. So I ended up changing them every time. In my experience, changing their diapers at night didn't prevent my kids from falling right back to sleep. I think the daily routine we used throughout the day and night gave them a predictable schedule and ability to head right back to lala land. You might be able to get away with not changing it, so it's something to try out. 8- Should you sing a lullaby or play music? Baby loves to hear your voice, so of course you can sing to baby. However, just be sure to sing at a soft, low level and sing a soothing melody. If you start rocking out at bedtime, baby will perk up and not be in the sleeping mood.

9- Minimize Talking To Baby In The Middle Of The Night Along those lines, talking or singing to your baby in the middle of the night will perk up your child, which is the exact opposite of what you want at 3 am. Your warm touch and snuggles will be enough to show your love, so don't make too much noise or stimulate their senses if you want them to go back to sleep quickly. 10- Use A White Noise Machine We didn't use a white noise machine until our third child, and looking back I wonder why? They are SO helpful for getting baby to sleep, and drowning out noises in the house that could keep your child awake. I highly recommend them! We use this one.

We used a Graco Pack N Play as our bassinet in the beginning. 11- Try Blackout Curtains Blackout curtains can help your baby fall asleep earlier and stay asleep longer, especially when you live where there's a lot of light in the summer. We live in the pacific northwest, and in the middle of summer it's still light at 10pm or later. And let me tell you, neither me nor my husband want our kids up at 10pm. That's our time! Hanging blackout curtains helps a baby's body learn their circadian rhythms and get used to day vs. night. I hang them behind a set of thinner curtains so I don't have to use them if I don't need them. For example, I don't pull the blackout curtains during daytime naps. This helps baby learn to sleep when there's a bit of light. It also helps their body start to register that it's not nighttime yet, so they learn to really zonk out at night (instead of having an all-night party that you have to attend). If your newborn baby sleeps all day, then you have problem! Make sure you wake them up to get regular feeds during the day so they sleep well at night. You can learn more about that strategy in my Top 6 Newborn Sleep Tips here: SEND ME THE SLEEP TIPS 12- Keep Lighting Dim Along with blocking light from outside, you'll want to keep the room lighting to a minimum at bedtime and during night feeds. If you can turn on a night light instead of an overhead light, you won't be overstimulating baby's senses. Low lights can signal to baby that it's sleepy time, which will help them fall asleep way easier! Score! 13- Place A Microwaveable Heating Pad In Crib To Warm It If your house runs cold or your baby tends to get cold, try heating up the crib with a microwaveable rice bag or heating pad. As long as you remove it and check the crib to make sure it's not too hot before putting baby down, a heating pad can help ease the transition from warm mom or dad to warm bed. 14- Create A Daily Routine For Better Baby Sleep I see a lot of women jumping into sleep training without having any type of daytime schedule or even a bedtime routine. But a good night sleep for baby starts with a consistent (but not rigid) daytime routine. If you have predictable habits for when baby eats, plays (even if it's just lying on a playmat), your baby will be primed and ready for nighttime sleep. So as counter-intuitive as it seems, before you jump into sleep training, be sure to have a solid daytime plan in place.

15- Upgrade Your Infant Sleep Training Plan As I mentioned above, if you don't have a daytime plan, or if you feel your current sleep training strategy is never going to work, it's time to upgrade to a better plan. RELATED: GET MY TOP 6 NEWBORN SLEEP TIPS- FREE DOWNLOAD 16- The Pick up / Put down Method The pick up/put down method can help baby get used to falling asleep on their own, while you're still available and present to help calm them down. How it works: If baby fusses when you put them down, you calmly pick them back up and snuggle them until they're quiet. Wait until they're drowsy and almost asleep (but not all the way out), then put them back down. Continue to pick up/ put down until they're asleep in bed. Yes, this method can take a while, but it's worthwhile to help baby learn to fall asleep on their own while still reassuring them you're there for them. 17- You’re NOT a Failure You’re not a failure. It takes time to get to know your baby and get into a routine. I know it's frustrating when it feels like there's nothing more you can do after the 1000 things you've tried. When you're exhausted and spent and it's the middle of the night, and why won't they just go to sleep??? I have been there. Every baby has their moments, no matter how good of a sleeper they may be. They may fight sleep, they will cry. Some of it is just babies being babies. And some of it is a learning process as you get to know your baby and grow in your parenting skills. Rest assured, you can do this and you will get through it. And of course, some babies do have deeper issues like colic, feeding struggles, and other health issues that need attention. Don't hesitate to contact your baby's provider when your mom-gut tells you something is wrong!

Resources For Getting Newborn To Sleep:

Book: Secrets of the Baby WhispererChenille beddingBlackout curtainsCharacter Nightlight or Nightlight with a switchWhite Noise MachineMicrowaveable heating padSleep Sack

My Top 6 Newborn Sleep Tips- Free Download

Whether your baby has a hair stuck between their fingers, or just needs the room a bit darker, hopefully this list provides you with some ideas for getting your baby to sleep. For my best tips, don't miss this free download of My Top 6 Newborn Sleep Tips below:

SEND ME THE SLEEP TIPS!

The "Newborn Sleep" Series

This is the fourth post in my "Newborn Sleep" Series. Be sure to check out the other posts in the series and stay tuned for new additions! When Is The Best Time To Start An Infant Sleep Schedule? How To Start A 3-Week-Old Baby Sleep Routine7 Newborn Baby Schedule Mistakes To Avoid 17 Insanely Powerful Tips For Getting Newborn To Sleep At Night (This Post) Read the full article

#babycare #Sleep

0 notes

cecehathaway · 6 years

Text

Honor Thy Mother | Para

Tagging: Dorothy McCoy-Turner & Lena McCoy-Bell; mentions of the late Dr. Diana McCoy & Eugene McCoy Location: The McCoy-Bell home; Queens, NY Time Frame: Throughout the day, Thurs. Nov. 16, 2017 General Notes: content warnings--loss, mourning, grief, death and the like are discussed here.

A sky blue prayer candle burned from the moment Lena got up to feed Francesca that morning. The house was quiet, save the infant’s cries letting her mom know that she was awake. Lena wasn’t much of a cook, but after she had her daughter tended to and the babe fell back asleep, she started readying breakfast for her and Dorothy.

Their mom loved fruit and pastries for breakfast, but she had a particular love for banana chocolate chip pancakes, and Lena knew she could manage that like she had every November 16th the past nine years. She was dwelling on one of her personal favorite memories of their mom as she poured chocolate chips in with the pancake batter.

Their dad was away for work but their mother, Diana, was off for the day and still in her pajamas. It was a Saturday which meant no school for her or Dorothy. Lena had come downstairs to the smell of chocolate and bananas filling her nose. Her mother’s striking blue eyes were focused on the hot skillet as she poured some batter inside, followed by a small bit more, and then another small addition.

“Good morning, princess Lena,” she greeted without having to turn around.

Lena rubbed at her eyes, “Mm..morning, Mom.”

Diana then started to hum a happy, march-like melody to herself, and soon flipped the pancake over. Lena’s unkempt morning curls lowered to the kitchen table, she was still half asleep but when she looked up again, she saw her mom had added to her humming with a side-to-side swish of her hips.

Lifting her head in confusion, Lena asked, “What are you doing, mom?”

Diana merely looked over her shoulder and threw her daughter a smirk before tending to the skillet again, still humming and swaying.

A smile broke out on Lena’s sleepy face, “Mooom! What song is that?”

Diana hummed a little louder as she added butter to one side of the pancake and then set it aside on a plate. She started on another one, pouring it the same as the other. Finally, as she picked up the plate where the finished pancake was and turned around, Diana marched away from the stove and towards the kitchen table where Lena was sitting. On the way, she sang the song she had been humming:

“Who’s the leader of the club, who’s made for you and me? M-I-C, K-E-Y, M-O-U-S-E!”

By the time she got to spelling out ‘Mickey Mouse’, she set the plate on the table revealing that she made it in the shape of Mickey’s head. Lena’s face lit up while a peal of giggles spilled from her mouth. She didn’t pick up on the lyrics other than the spelling part, but she bobbed her head from side to side while her mom poured syrup on the plate and she started to eat it.

An even younger Dorothy came downstairs soon after, donning stripped footie pajamas and two pom poms of curls on her head. In no time at all, the three of them were bouncing about the kitchen, enjoying Mickey Mouse pancakes and the song.

This memory stayed with Lena all through the time it took her to prepare breakfast.

Towards the end, Dorothy had woken up and came waddling into the kitchen. She hadn’t slept well but waking up to the familiar smell of banana chocolate chip pancakes was a welcome start to the otherwise somber day. Her eyes were a bit puffy and her back ached terribly but she enjoyed the meal at the table with her sister.

Dorothy had her fond memories of her mother, but it was impossible to avoid the miserable memories with them. She couldn’t help thinking how different things might have been had her mom not gone away to help smaller pockets of the country still struggling to gain access to the virus’ antidote, years after the cure had been found. How upset she had been with her mom for not having had a vaccine or something--anything to help guard her from getting it too before she went. How angering it was that no one had realized until it was too late, that she, too, had contracted it in the midst of helping others.

Dorothy remembered being in high school, maintaining a great start to her senior year and having finished submitting her college applications. She applied to some of the greatest universities in the country: Stanford, Harvard, UCLA, Northwestern, and of course, NYU. Her mom helped her, encouraged her and promised to be there for each envelope she opened when she heard back from the schools.

But it was a promise that couldn’t be kept. Diana’s health rapidly declined after her returned, and by the time it was discovered that she had contracted the virus, she was swiftly quarantined to prevent spreading. Dorothy remembered being checked by doctors, along with Lena and their father. None of them had picked it up, but the contact from then, until Diana’s final days was limited. Dorothy couldn’t hold her hand, give her a hug, be close to her mom. All she could do was watch from a distance and try her best to tell her mother that she loved her. That she would do her best, for her. That she would help her father and Lena around the house. She did her best not to show how terrified she was, the more the reality sank in that her mother would soon be gone.

Dorothy remembered the funeral. She remembered Lena sobbing the entire day, and repeatedly hugging to console her older sister. She remembered her father--an otherwise talkative and outgoing man--being more silent than she had ever known him to be. She remembered them holding the service in the church her mother loved for them to attend, and the slew of congregation members, colleagues and friends, some of whom Dorothy couldn’t recall ever meeting before--gathering to pay their respects. She remembered the choir singing a beautiful rendition of “When the Saints Go Marching In” that continued to haunt Dorothy to this day. She remembered the car ride over to the cemetery, the silence, the ugly green easy-up placed over the plot, and equally ugly, fake grass rolled out beside the dug up grave where they placed three chairs for herself, her sister and her father. She remembered having to help prepare all of this amidst schoolwork she wanted and needed to stay on top of, and giving her father nudges here and there to assist with the arrangements where she could not. She remembered that she only cried for a few minutes when she was called out of class and told the news. And after that, she remembered that she did not cry again, all through the preparations, or the day of until it came time to say goodbye once and for all.

Dorothy cried when they closed the casket. And she hadn’t stopped until they were back inside the car, heading home for the reception. Her sister was too inconsolable to return hugs or comfort that day, and her father still seemed to be in a state of shock to have noticed. Dorothy leaned on her closest friends at the time, but eventually forced herself to be strong, for her family, or what remained of it.

Just as she had done that day, the very clear memory made fresh tears spring to her eyes. She didn’t know how long they had run but hearing her niece’s cries triggered something in her to collect herself again. Even though Lena had gone to tend to her, Dorothy still used some tissues to dry her eye and made herself take deep breaths to calm down again and try to quell some of the unpleasant memories with brighter ones.

There wasn’t much conversation between her and Lena throughout the remainder day. Dorothy tried distracting herself a little by going online for only a moment, but she ended up deciding to leave her laptop off for the remainder of it. She helped with her niece and cried again, through the rendition of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” during her mom’s favorite musical film, Meet Me In St. Louis.

Her brother-in-law picked up a double shift at the hospital, intentionally making himself scarce, she suspected, so the day of the two sisters and Francesca, turned into the evening with the two and the babe. With Lena having taken on breakfast and neither sister being particularly hungry for a lunch, Dorothy prepared dinner for them, following her mother’s Swedish meatball recipe to a tee.

The prayer candle had burned all day, and neither of them would be blowing it out, instead letting it go out on its own when it had nothing left to burn. After doing the dinner dishes and wishing Lena and Francesca a good night, Dorothy sat at the table and watched the lone flame burn still inside the narrow glass. She placed a hand over her round stomach and for the first time that day, other than small talk asking and answering questions with Lena, she spoke.

“I know I’ve said this so many times before, but I...” her low, raspy voice paused as she looked down at herself, and then back at the candle. “I really wish you were here. I want to believe... I have to believe that you and Pops are watching over me, and Lena and your grandchildren, but...” Letting out a soft sigh, she ignored the new tears welling up in her eyes. “What I would give for you to be here right now... To be able to talk to you, to see you with Chesca, and Quinton, spoiling them rotten and helping Lena and me in ways that only you could...”

Her flurry of emotions rendered her silent for a stretch of time and as she sniffed and sighed, she did her best to bring the words out again. “I miss you, Mom. I’m... so thankful for the time we did have with you--you were...amazing. My role model. And I miss you.”

Unable to keep herself together any further, Dorothy bent her head into her hands and sobbed as quietly as she could make herself. A montage of bitter and sweet images of her mom sped through her mind as she wept.

A gentle hand on her shoulder made her jump but as quickly as she reacted, she relaxed and looked up through glistening, bloodshot eyes. Lena was standing beside her and although Dorothy couldn’t clearly make out her expression, she saw her arms open up. After heaving herself to her feet, Dorothy clung to her big sister and cried freely on her shoulder. And all the while Lena held her, knowing, or possibly not knowing how much it was needed.

#para: Honor Thy Mother #death tw #death cw #//this got long #and very sad

4 notes · View notes

theseventhhex · 7 years

Text

Kasabian Interview

Ian Matthews, Sergio Pizzorno, Tom Meighan & Chris Edwards

Kasabian returned earlier this year brimming with confidence with their explosive latest release entitled ‘For Crying Out Loud’. The band’s sixth studio album prompts the usual swagger and flexibility for huge tunes, as well as a more grittier direction compared to 2014’s ‘48:13’. Keen to make a truly great guitar album, the record explores an old-school attitude towards songwriting with striking guitar work formed over a whirlwind six weeks of proficiency for chief songwriter Serge Pizzorno. The imposing outcomes throughout this body of work captures the frequent festival headliners basking in their sweet-spot, delivering upbeat statements and addictive hooks… The Seventh Hex talks to Serge Pizzorno about having parameters in place, Leicester City and fatherhood...

TSH: In the lead-up to 'For Crying Out Loud' you underwent some significant changes in your personal life. Were you very much in the frame of mind of waiting for some sort of influences to guide you?

Serge: Yeah, definitely. Before making any record, you need a real sense of strong influences and worthy inspiration to guide you. I see bands making records to service the machine, you know? I can never do that. When I go in to make a record, it consumes my whole state of mind - I'm even void of sleep at times. You have to fully commit yourself. Initially, I went into the studio and I had no real ideas or thoughts for this album. All of a sudden, I realised what excited me was putting a timeframe in place. I basically gave myself six weeks to complete the record.

TSH: Was it case of having boundaries to help you excel?

Serge: Yeah, I eliminated so many other processes of making an album. I wanted to restrict myself. It's how they made records back in the day when they didn't have enough time. I'm lucky in this day and age like many others to have a studio in my home; therefore I can spend countless hours at home just getting the vibe right.

TSH: Part of imposing limits on yourself meant you were only using guitar and piano...

Serge: Yeah, which made the whole process so exciting and interesting. Also, having this approach allowed me to concentrate on the production side more, knowing that I already had the basis of good melodies and big choruses. I just like to always mix things up, you know? For the next record, I'll conjure up a totally different perspective. Limiting myself worked for this release, it felt like the right thing to do. However, Kasabian will always be offering a new range and variety when it comes to a new record.

TSH: You also went back to the classic songwriting and production style of not letting any song be over three minutes, admiring what you feel is the 'true structure' of songs...

Serge: Definitely. I was quite militant with this approach. I didn't allow myself any self-indulgence until the very end with 'Are You Looking for Action?' being eight minutes long. I thought I'd been so hard on myself that I'd allow a little bit of psychedelia into the mix. Overall, giving each song a three minute length results in such tight and concise tracks, meaning everything within the songs happens at the right time too. I really liked this style and format. It was a throwback to the classic way of working, when artists wrote songs for jukeboxes.

TSH: Is 'Put Your Life On It' perhaps the most personal song you've written?

Serge: Well, since I got married, I've written a few love songs, but they've always been cloaked in mystery. I often dedicate songs to my wife at gigs but a lot of the insane lyrics don't tend to do the songs justice, haha! Anyhow, I wanted a song to express everything I wanted to say to my wife and this track was the one. At one point, John Lennon used to actually write with a lot of ambiguity and metaphors but then he started to write really directly. I'd never really written directly, so I thought I'd do the same. The idea was to write a love song and I decided to say it exactly how it is.

TSH: 'Ill Ray (The King)' consists of a cool video starring Lena Headey from Game of Thrones, however, what sort of motivations do you draw on to pen a track like this one?

Serge: Firstly, it was great to have an awesome actress like Lena in the video; she did such an amazing job. You know, in bringing this song together I was trying to incorporate elements similar to Daft Punk and Justice, as well as some heavy riffs in the vein of the Prodigy and Nirvana. It's a really interesting song and it even has a weird tribal feel. The back beat is from the old rave days, which alongside all the other influences I mentioned seeemed to make the track even more unique. Playing that track live is just amazing, it's otherworldly. I'm really proud of that one.

TSH: Speaking of playing live, Kasabian has legions of admirers connecting with the band's music worldwide. How appreciative are you to be able to travel the globe and perform for such loyal fans?

Serge: Ah man, it's so rewarding and phenomenal! I get asked quite often what's the difference between crowds in various countries compared to the fans in the U.K... I have to say, not a lot. At the end of the day, our gigs always tend to evoke amazing energy regardless of the location, which means a lot to everyone in this band. It's sad that music has become somewhat devalued as people are constantly in front of a screen trying to film the moment instead of experiencing it. For us, when we perform in front of our fans, all the hard work we put into this band makes sense and the atmosphere becomes so precious. For those 90 minutes that we are onstage, we just want to empower and elevate our audience. It's just so amazing to have loyal fans and we're so grateful.

TSH: How do you foresee your songwriting style evolving?

Serge: My songwriting developing is all about learning. I just love learning new stuff. I'm not interested in standing still and admiring the view - I need to know more. I need to explore various avenues, which in turn informs our work. The world can be a frightening place at times, but the power of music can be a very useful tool in helping to make positive change.

TSH: Are you constantly looking to change the conversation with each album?

Serge: Yeah, this type of attitude has always been at the forefront of our minds at all times. We are six albums in and we know people won't stick with you if you give them the same story. Surprise is such an inspiring element to include, plus you have to take risks. People really respect risk takers, sometimes it goes wrong and sometimes it goes right, but it's always exciting.

TSH: When you look back at your classic self-titled debut album, what stands out most?

Serge: It was just such an incredible time man. It was a haze of weed smoking and we lived on a farm together. We had no real plans, you know? We were simply just creating our ideas of what a rock band could be. We were into dance, hip-hop, electro and indie. All of these different genres were just making their way into our record. We were carefree but still focused on making an amazing record. Certain songs from that album have taken on a life of their own and become anthems for people. A lot of people have really taken that record into their hearts, which is so cool.

TSH: Does Leicester City's Premier League winning season still give you goosebumps?

Serge: It's still surreal. I see the footage and highlights now and I still cannot understand how it all happened. It was such an amazing season. Massive credit to the players, the manager, the staff, and our supporters, who all helped make it happen. I mean for it to happen to us as kids growing up in Leicester, it’s just a massive blessing. Football needed a story where the underdog makes the headlines; it's always a great story in any walk of life. You know, I've always loved footie, especially as a kid. I guess I've always gravitated towards things that weren't a real job, such as being a musician or a footballer, haha!

TSH: Was partying on Sir Philip Green's yacht in Monte Carlo amongst the most strangest of experiences for you?

Serge: Haha! At the time, we were about 22 or 23, as you can imagine, we just played up to it. We were little animals just quaffing the champagne and throwing lobsters at people. There were all these celebs on board, but we were just kids from Leicester, and we felt at the time that we'd never see anything like that again. We just made the most of it and had a laugh. We lived like kings, but we were really paupers at the time.

TSH: How has fatherhood impacted you?

Serge: It just happened at the right time. I feared for my creativity a little when I became a dad. I thought I wouldn't have enough time to be inventive, but from that moment on, I've never been more creative. Being a parent has just opened my mind and I feel free. Everything that you think matters just vanishes when you have kids. Your kids become everything.

TSH: Kasabian has lived every moment and remained proud from the very beginning. Is your ethos to challenge yourselves to pull from different angles?

Serge: Absolutely. We all learnt pretty quickly to not let our egos get in the way or cloud our judgment. There are a hell of a lot of casualties in this game, but I like to think that we've remained relevant because we have a lot of love for music. For us, adventure remains the most exciting thing. After all, we're not alive very long, so the inspiration for me carries on, because the need for adventure will never disappear. Some nights I am the last to leave the bar, I'll go missing and you'll find me in the pyramid somewhere, but it's because I'm trying to investigate and find things out. I'm trying to find out what the next move is. Kasabian will never be frightened to risk it all. We've been around a long time and we will not be getting complacent anytime soon. Overall, I just like making shit, it sounds crass, but it's true - that's when my adrenaline kicks in. I constantly want to remain creative.

Kasabian - “Ill Ray (The King)”

Kasabian - “You're In Love With a Psycho”

For Crying Out Loud

#Interview #Kasabian #serge pizzorno #tom meighan

21 notes · View notes