#ray rants and junk
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Cillian Murphy talking about Oppenheimer: yeah it’s a good movie :)
Ryan Gosling talking about Barbie: After working on this movie for so long I can only perceive the world in shades of pink… when I look at my reflection in the mirror, Ken is waving back at me…. he has Ken-sumed me, mind, body and soul….
#ray rants and junk#barbie (2023)#I love this for him btw#Ryan Gosling as Ken might be one of the most intense forms of method acting I have ever witnessed#barbie#Ryan gosling#barbenheimer#Oppenheimer
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Ray of Sunshine - Grumpy!Harry x Reader.
Premise: Harry has a tendency to be moody, but what happens when he meets his match? this one's especially for @harrysonlylover 💞
Other Writing
Word count: 3.4k
Warnings: She/her pronouns. 3rd person.
⛅️
Harry’s car skids recklessly into the almost-full parking lot, dismissing the concept of carefulness in favour of confronting the driver behind the wheel of a sunshine-yellow ‘60s VW beetle, who had pulled into the lot moments before- which should have never happened because it had been behind him, to begin with.
As if his mood hadn’t been less than pleasant for the past month, what really set him over the edge was the lack of apology from the said sunshine yellow driver, who only honked his way and proceeded to turn into the parking lot as they seemed to have always intended.
With agitation, Harry neatly swerves into the nearest parking space, barely managing to stay in the lines as he reaches over and snatches his work satchel from the passenger seat, slinging it over his shoulder as he slides from the seat and exits his vehicle.
In hot pursuit, his long legs help him catch up to the sunshine car just in time for the driver to exit, her back turned to him, leaning in through the open door to collect her items.
By the time she turns around and lazily swings the door shut Harry is peering over her, wearing a black hoodie, brows furrowed, his body tense.
She recognises him in an instant- it’s hard not to remember the face of a man who is scowling so sinfully as he hit the hooter for an unnecessary amount of time- all because he couldn't be bothered to indicate.
“Did you not see my blinker?” He grumbles.
“Clearly not.” She torts, her face still and expressionless.
“You’re a moron. It was on.” Each word is more annunciated than the last.
“It wasn’t.” She shrugs, slinging the straps of her bag over her shoulder.
“You clearly need glasses.” Harry huffs in disbelief.
“Maybe if you weren’t blasting your music so loud you would have heard that it wasn’t on.”
Harry feels a wave of shame wash over him at the idea of her seeing him getting a little too into his playlist, in turn, his chest simmers with defensiveness and deflection,
“Your driving fucking sucks…” He says, getting no response only encourages him to rant further, “And your car looks like it’s hanging on by its last thread, no wonder you’re a bad driver.” He gestures to her car with a look of distaste, “It’s a piece of junk.”
She adores her car, it is not only special but holds the heart of many fond times, adventures, people, and sometimes just conversation. The car sure has been through the wringer- in age alone- but she can hardly afford another, and she certainly doesn't want one.
So, she tries not to find offence in this grumpy strangers declaration of her ‘piece of junk’ and does her best to take a deep breath before responding in concession- though her agitation has morphed into sarcasm and it seeps through your sentences,
“Okay, sorry Mister Mercedes. Guess I’ll be more careful next time.”
Harry didn't know what he wanted her to say, but it certainly wasn’t anything along those lines. So with an eye roll and the reminder that he’s close to being late for work, Harry starts to walk away and points out matter-of-factly,
“Yeah fuckin right, you’re an accident waiting to happen.”
“Asshole.”
“I heard that.”
He turns on his heels to see her as calm as ever, an amused sparkle in her eyes, a smirk playing at her lips,
“What ya gonna do? Chew me out some more?”
Harry stared seethingly at the rude and reckless driver who couldn't care less about his mood, her focus was on gathering all the necessary items for whatever task she so desperately had to complete that she was willing to almost kill him.
He meanly mutters, “Have a fantastic day," before walking off for good, dreading work and in a worse mood than ever.
⛅️
Harry has an hour for lunch, grateful for the assortment of cafes and restaurants scattered within the city square, along with plenty of boutiques, art deco, and antiques to name a few.
Most days, he is likely to grab a sandwich or coffee- or both- from the restaurant directly across from his office block, but that would be the third time this week and Harry can’t fathom facing any of the staff in fear of becoming a ‘regular.’
He meanders around the centre and stakes out the array of food options displayed in each glass window.
Just when he thinks he may settle on some early afternoon sushi, Harry spots a bright object from the corner of his vision, his head snapping with such haste he must have strained a muscle.
Parked directly in front of a shoe boutique is his notorious enemy; the sunshine car. And leaning back against a pillar just outside of the store is the bad driver from behind the wheel. She is halfway through smoking a cigarette, her other hand occupied by scrolling through her phone.
As if his scowl was so strong that it was sent straight to her, causing her to sense his presence, she looked up from her phone and smiled mischievously at the realization of her new enemy's arrival.
She tucks her phone into the pocket of her black slacks, taking a puff of her ciggie, a cloud of smoke mixing in with her greeting,
“Ah, Mister Mercedes.”
Harry nears but notices his frustration thicken with each step into her space. He crosses his arms across his chest,
“I recognised your car.”
“Oh, that old piece of junk?” She asks with nonchalance.
“Yes.”
“Bothered you so much that you decided to come over here?” Her pout is melting with pure mischief.
“I’m sorry, okay.” Harry concedes, but it doesn't come off as anything but frustrated so his tone softens in volume and intention, “It was a rough day.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” His brows furrow.
“Yeah, okay.”
“Fucking insufferable.” He mutters.
His frustration slips over like that of water on a duck, her mood has been calm all day, and his attitude wasn’t likely to spoil it- right? With another puff, she ponders aloud,
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
There is a moment where Harry almost ponders the purity of his intentions, but dismisses it and chooses to interrogate her- he is far too invested in finding out more about his enemy,
“Do you work here?”
“Obviously.” She shrugs with the softest of scoffs.
“Hope you’re a better employee than a driver.”
Now he’s starting to get under her skin. this is her hour for lunch, why can’t it be spent in peace? She does her damndest to maintain a cool demeanour as she asks again,
“Why are you still here?”
“To apologize, Jesus.” Harry doesn't mean to snap, but neither of them is surprised when he does. His juxtaposition of words and tone render his sorry useless- they both know it.
He tries to reason with her, explaining his frustration, “And all you said was okay.”
She peers over at him incredulously, repeatedly intrigued by the attitude of this man who has gone out of his way to make an enemy out of her,
“What do you want me to say,” her tone facetious and fiery, “I forgive you, we all have bad days, sometimes we take it out on strangers to avoid hurting those close to us, you’re probably actually a great guy?”
“I- yes.”
“Well now that I’ve said it, you can go on your way.”
Harry feels stunned like she just let him walk out into the snow knowing that there was soon to be a blizzard, he can’t reason with her- nor does he care to at this point,
“Jesus. I take back my apology.” He grumbles, hands raised in defeat, his head shaking as he scoffs sourly, “Such a mature little thing, huh?”
She ignores everything but the last sentence, slowly enjoying the opportunities he’s giving her to indulge in going out of her way to increase his already extreme grumpiness.
Once more, Harry curses out under his breath and with zero intent to say another word, begins to walk away from her.
Pulling the phone from her pocket, ready to continue her prior activities, she chuckles and calls over his shoulder,
“Bye, Mister Mercedes.”
⛅️
It has likely been less than a week since their last interaction and Harry’s enemy has decided to treat herself to a proper lunch- sitting down at an actual table in an actual restaurant for a change.
However, she underestimated her fitness levels and loosely accounted for a good portion of the time her lunch break consisted of. By the time she arrived and got back to her own store, there would be less than twenty minutes left to sit at a table.
Takeout would have to do, and once she has placed her order, she waits off to the side of the main counter, waiting to both pay and be gifted with grub.
The food comes quicker than predicted and with excitement she thinks can't be topped, she reaches for her wallet, but the hostess stops her in her tracks and gestures to one of the tables scattered throughout the eatery and informs her,
“The man at table four already paid for your order.”
It’s her sworn enemy, packing up the contents of his belongings before taking a final sip of his nearly-empty Americano. Harry doesn’t acknowledge her.
“What’s with this guy?” She ponders aloud before making the swift and frustrated decision to go over to his table.
He is already standing up to leave, still not looking her way, and with a bough of confusion, she finally speaks up,
“What’s this about?”
“Strange way of saying thank you, Sunshine.”
Harry frowns and she doesn't enjoy the way it makes her feel, giddy and begging for more opportunities to bother him,
“Thank you.”
“Whatever. You’re still a pest.” He grumbles, almost bumping his shoulder into her own as he slips past and hastily exits the restaurant.
⛅️
Harry walks into her store with a better attitude than he has in a long time. Things were starting to look up, but one little thing was still bothering him, and she was staring right at him with a scowl that gave him a run for his money.
Anyhow, he’s here for a reason; an attempt to smooth over the rocky start that was more than likely his fault. And he hopes she’ll take his apology this time.
Harry approaches, and with each step, he gets a better view of her distinct frown, lips turned down, eyes quickly turning to loathsome slits. She is no longer leaning across the front counter with laxation, her body stiffening to attention, her hand pressed firmly to her hip.
She couldn’t fathom anything could have worsened her week, and here he was, presumably planning on sucking away whatever remained of her soul for his own sick gain. With a chest simmering with chaos, she asks with incredulity,
“Seriously?”
Harry blinks back, a little awestruck, ignoring the pang of disappointment that greets his heart when she seems to confirm her distaste for his presence, he embraces his mildly peppy mood and remarks playfully,
“Well hello there, Sunshine.”
“This is not the time.” She snaps.
“Aw, is Miss Ray-of-Sunlight in a mood today?” He coos.
“Mmph.”
She huffs, hardly meeting his eyes, and Harry quite likes how well she emulates his usually grumpy demeanour, he wonders how similar they might be, decides to find out,
“What happened?” He meets her at the counter, lazily resting his body against the counter courtesy of the elbow he balances on. He leans a tad nearer, a tantalizing smile playing at his lips as he teases,
“Did you almost crash into someone with your junkyard on wheels?”
“I’d rather drive this than parade about like an absolute dick in an overpriced German car.” Her tone drips with what Harry feels is both disappointment and disgust.
He feels frozen under her words like his Sunshine had just revealed herself to be Medusa, a sly Succubus.
Now what does he do? His confidence sits on the floor with his converse, his sentences have turned to slosh in his skull and she is staring at him with such distaste that Harry certainly won’t be saying a word.
Stunned to silence, he leans away from her, settling a safe space between their bodies as his features morph from friendly to confused. This only seems to increase her frustration and she fiery snaps,
“Why won't you stop fucking pestering me?”
Harry subconsciously steps back, straightening up and stacking his defensiveness around his skin like a shield. He has no power to prevent a petty eye roll,
“Oh, please. This is no treat for me either, Sunshine.”
“Are you kidding?” She gets ready to leave him standing alone in the middle of her own store.
Harry panics and blurts, “Hear me out!” It comes off more desperate than he would have liked. But she has stopped and addresses him with crossed arms, waiting for his next words. Harry is in autopilot mode, more nonsense spilling from his lips, “I- want to make it up to you?”
“Why, so you can clear your conscience?” She scoffs with sass.
“Sure, whatever you say, smart mouth.” Harry has regressed and reflects her unpleasant temperament.
“Go away.”
Their gazes are glued by the calamity of their conversation, tied together with frustration that feels impossible to unwind.
Harry just wants to tell her why he’s here in the first place, but what’s the point? His presence is evidently worsening her day.
And though the soft curiosity in him wants to know why she seems so down, Harry’s focus is returning to the ruin of his afternoon. So, in true fashion, he flails his arms in disappointed defeat and turns his back on her with a wonderful version of goodbye,
“Fine. Fuck it. Have a miserable one, Sunshine.”
“Likewise, dickhead.” She dismisses, grateful his mood is now as miserable as her own.
⛅️
When Harry finally exits the glass entrance to the bottom floor, relief rushing over him now that work is over, he’s hardly paying any attention to anything or anyone, already scanning his phone for notifications. But then he sees his cloudy sunshine leaning against a wall, arms crossed, no car in sight.
He ponders pretending to not have noticed- walked away and gone about his eve. That would never happen though, he wants- needs to see her again- his stomach stays unsettled the deeper their discourse divulged.
He heads over to her with unnecessary haste, scolding himself as he comes to a halt in front of her. She has been aware of him from the minute he exited the building, already prepared for his arrival.
His body waits expectantly as she eyes him up and down, a cheeky glint in her eyes and when Harry understands that she is in no rush to speak up, his undying impatience rears its head,
“What do you want?”
“For you to stop being so grumpy.” She shrugs.
“Rich coming from you.” He mutters, but when she attempts to turn her back on him as they had done so many times before, more words rush out, “Okay, okay. What’s up?”
“I’ve decided to hear you out.”
“Gee, how kind of you.”
“I cannot imagine how anyone deals with you on a daily basis.”
Harry doesn’t take it as an insult, he is fueled forward by the fact that she might be willing to listen,
“I’m actually very likeable.”
“Do you want me to hear you out or not?”
He thinks for a moment, leaving her to ponder what in her right mind caused her to take a walk to see him in the first place.
But, he wants to do this as… right as their attitudes might approve of, so he bravely wraps his palm atop her own, gently gesturing for her to follow and she allows him to drag her along. He encourages,
“C’mon.”
“What?” She asks but proceeds to let him guide her.
“It’s almost six, let’s go eat.” He informs, one step ahead of her as they take the short trip to his regular restaurant
“That is the last thing I want to do with you.” She grumbles.
“I’ll pay.” He soothes.
“Fine.”
Harry keeps her hand cradled in his own, even as they enter the restaurant and he asks the waiter for a table for two. In fact, he only lets go to pull out a chair for her.
He asks what drink she prefers and if she’d be open to splitting a plate of fries with him.
But she has been eyeing him with suspicion, and once it’s clear that this won’t waver until she confronts it, the waiter leaves and allows her to question,
“Why are you being nicer than usual?”
“Can you stop being snarky for even a second?” He nearly snaps.
“Ah, Mister Mercedes is back.” She nods as if it were what she had expected all along.
“No,- Jesus fuck.” Harry feels desperate again, scooching his chair forward, his arms folded across the table, leaning in to ensure her unwavering attention,
“I- almost got into another accident the day we met.” He sighs out with shame, ready to be met with warranted ridicule. Her expression has already turned to one of bemusement. But he’s not done yet,
“Turns out my left blinker bulb burned out... so...”
She tilts back and finally relaxes into her chair, a gleeful grin spreading to her sparkling eyes,
“Sweet vindication.”
“Brat.”
“Dick.”
Harry has little confidence to spare, now that his confession is out in the open, he is in the dark.
Her demeanour has slightly diverted swells of amusement and satisfaction dancing along the tabletop.
“Just wanted to try and make it up to you.” He shrugs earnestly, unfortunately having to rely on her newfound information to dictate her next reaction.
“Make it up to me?”
He can’t convince himself to meet her eyes, his lowering to study the rings donning his fingers, fearful of humiliation, but not enough to waste the opportunity sitting across from him, looking overjoyed with sweet satisfaction, and far too endearing for him to resist,
“Mm. I didn’t want you to think I was just a grump but…” Her face seems to soften and he feels it safe to continue, “Been tryna ask you out on a date. since.”
“A date?”
“Yeah, a date.”
“Are you crazy?” Her features return to one of confusion, bewildered at his seemingly sudden turnaround, “I don’t like you.”
“Well, I like you.”
“Forgive me for finding that hard to believe.”
It’s true- that he likes you, and that it’s hard to believe. He likes the surprise shifting his statement.
“I do.” He nods as if it’s been obvious from the start, “And your attitude, and your silly yellow car.” He admits with bashful fondness, “Guess I hoped we could start over?”
“Sunshine.” She says.
“Hm?”
He ponders aloud and it’s her turn to lean forward, stretching her arms across the table. Her gaze has returned to one of sternness,
“My car. Her name is Sunshine.” She allows Harry a moment to soak up the coincidental information. “She is a piece of junk, but I love her, so shut up about my baby.”
Harry’s head tilts back when a bough of laughter suddenly leaves his lips- amused and even more attracted than he thought possible, he nods along in agreement and chuckles, “Fair enough.”
There is an elongated pause- at least Harry perceives it to be- as she thinks over the oddly pleasurable past few weeks of finding herself in the presence of a grumpy but playful man.
So, she gives him one last good look over before deciding to openly give in,
“You have been a consistent pain in my ass.” He pouts cutely, and she goes on, “Guess we’ll have to find out if there’s more to you.”
He smiles at that, his head and heart finally settling at the promise of better nights of sleep to follow. Moreso, he’d like to find out more about this so-called Sunshine who seems to simultaneously rile him up and calm him down with ease,
“‘M name’s Harry, by the way.” He extends a hand.
“Y/n.” Her palm meets his eagerly.
-
Here we go children, this one was really fun to write, I hope it meets your expectations! - Em. xo 💞 this one's especially for @harrysonlylover 💞
#harry styles x reader#harry styles fic#elioslover#harry styles one shot#harry styles imagine#harry styles x y/n#harry x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles blurb#harry styles#harry styles grumpy#harry styles concept#harry styles angst#harry styles fluff#harry styles au
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No because the chestnut family being Five’s family is so good imo. Ray is still learning the ins and outs of how to treat Five well and not make him upset but it’s progress and Five LOVES hanging out with Claire because let’s face it, kids have such chaotic energy that Five is the uncle who takes them out on the most wild afternoon ever like freaking bumper cars and rollercoasters and “look, here’s how to pick a lock,” but they’re also like siblings, dumb, dumb siblings. Claire is teaching Five about the simple stuff he has no idea about, Five is telling Claire how to defend herself from bullies but ONLY if the adults won’t do anything, they watch cartoons together, they bug Allison 24/7, they ask Ray for ice cream even though Five is lactose intolerant.
They sneak out around the house a lot, they eat horrible sugary junk food and get all upset that they have a stomach ache (Allison is scolding them both, especially Five, definitely Five. Can her brother PLEASE stop eating marshmallow and peanut butter sandwiches with whatever the HELL gummy bear soda is), they have a whole make believe story about two siblings (them) saving the world (from monsters and evil) which encompasses both Five’s desire to save the world from apocalyptic scenarios and Claire’s huge imagination. Allison buys Claire toys and gets Five legos and her brother has been building things since 3am Jesus Christ Five go to sleep and Ray picks Claire up from school and Five from this community center that he goes to and plays bingo with the elderly residents and has a genuinely good time there and likes listening to their stories and 100% asks to volunteer there and Allison is surprised but is like “oh sure okay.” And Five just enjoys being there okay, he loves it and he gets sad when one of the members is sad. Like no, Martha it’s okay I’m sorry your daughter is being so unreasonable, do you want to play chess?
Five defending the elderly in the community center and being very pissed about volunteers who act all entitled and rants to Allison about how they deserve better and Allison makes some food for them and Five brings it and they all just have a grand time and like, this is an AU I’d love okay
#the umbrella academy#five hargreeves#five hargreeves centric#five hargreeves the boy#allison hargreeves#ray chestnut#claire#alternate universe#autistic five !!#autistic number five
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Cinematic parallels
#Ben Schwartz#duck tales#space force#the afterparty#ray rants and junk#dewey duck#Yasper#Yasper lennov#f tony#fuck tony#f tony scarapiducci#sonic#sonic 2#sonic the hedgehog
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Disney keep dangling the idea of making a spin-off Encanto series on Disney+, and if that ever happens, here are some things I hope we get to see:
More Camilo pranks/antics
The triplets having Sibling Banter™, but more specifically; Pepa and Bruno winding each other up and Julieta trying to stop them from kicking each other’s shins under the dinner table
Dolores and Mariano’s children
Mariano’s poetry
Mirabel becoming the protector of the magic
Luisa arm wrestling children in the village (by letting them win, obviously)
Bonus; Camilo being all like “pFfFt yOuRe LetTiNg ThEm wiN” and then Luisa being like “oh fine then you try it” before slamming his hand into the table in like 0.00002 seconds flat
The entire family getting way too emotinally invested in Bruno’s telanovelas
Fèliz getting all “what are your intentions with my daughter???” to Mariano (with Bruno and Agustin in the background with their arms folded and >:( expressions the entire time)
A Bruno song??? Perhaps????
Feel free to add!!
#ray rants and junk#encanto#Bruno Madrigal#mirabel Madrigal#Disney#Luisa Madrigal#we don’t talk about Bruno#Bruno#disney+#mirabel encanto#Luisa#headcanons#encanto headcanons
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build a new silhouette in the skylines up ahead
@weneedglitter Parenting!
ok so i wasn’t gonna write a new thing and then @sunsetcurvecuddles and @oldsmobile-hotdogs convinced me to write a new thing, sooooo. Read on ao3 here!
Post-Orpheum. Ray/Rose plus Bobby, can be read as romantic or platonic, whatever you want (though my wip document for this was called Parenting so do with that what you will). Featuring a lot of Puerto Rican terms of endearment cause I could.
--
Rose isn’t quite sure what wakes her. The alarm clock on the bedside table reads just after 2am. The night is dark and quiet outside her bedroom window. Next to her, Ray sleeps soundly on his stomach, snoring with his face buried in his pillow. But Rose is used to that, reaches over almost without thinking to bury a hand in his hair and gently tug his head sideways so he can breathe. It could be any night, calm and familiar, since they moved in together. It still doesn’t explain what dragged her from her dreamless sleep six hours before her alarm, or why she’s got this odd tingling feeling in the back of her mind—the kind of feeling her abuela would call her “maternal instincts” and set Rose off on a feminist rant about the oppressive expectations of motherhood on women under the age of 30–telling her that something’s wrong.
It takes her another few minutes of breathing into the silence, glancing around her room like she’s waiting for some monster to pop out of the shadows, and then something catches her ear from outside: a distant clanging sound, like metal against metal.
Her eyes widen, and Rose scrambles out of bed with a muttered curse, hurrying to the window to make sure she’s come to the right conclusion. Luckily, her bedroom overlooks the driveway connected to their little townhouse, so she barely has to flick the curtains aside to glimpse Ray’s junk-bucket van and, just visible from this distance two floors up, the legs sticking out from underneath it.
Rose sighs, one hand on the windowsill, and considers just throwing it open and shouting down for her insomniatic roommate to go the fuck to sleep. But she knows he won’t listen, and that it’ll only make him feel more guilty for inconveniencing her than he already does, so instead she turns back to the bed and crouches down to place a gentle hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder, leaning in close to murmur in his ear. “Ray? Can you wake up for me?” He groans, and a smile plays at Rose’s lips. “I know, papi chulo, but I need you to wake up, just for a minute.”
Ray grunts, but obediently rubs at his face and pushes himself up. “What’s wrong, is everything okay?” he murmurs, his voice a groggy rasp, still clearly half-asleep and yet alert with concern.
Rose’s heart tugs with so much gratitude for him. “He’s tinkering again,” is all she says.
Ray nods, rubs his hands down his face one more time, and then blinks owlishly, his gaze settling on Rose. “I’ll get the coffee, meet you out there?”
“You’re the best.”
She darts forward to kiss him and then they both reluctantly get to their feet, moving in sync, Ray tousling his already-mussed-up hair as he heads straight for the kitchen while Rose throws on a bathrobe over her pajamas and slides her feet into slippers. She pauses only to grab her keys, a bottle of water, and the bottle of Imitrex from the kitchen cabinet, kisses Ray once more on the cheek where he stands scooping Café Bustelo into the cafetiera, and hurries out the door and down the stairs into the night.
Ray’s bright orange 70s van sits up on blocks in the driveway. It broke down yesterday for about the sixth time this month when Ray was coming home from work; he had to push it the last two and a half blocks. Really, they should’ve seen this coming.
As Rose gets closer, she gets a better glimpse of the legs sticking out from under the van, loose black sweatpants and grubby sneakers, feet tapping the concrete to the beat of music Rose can just barely hear, muffled but pounding like it’s blasting through headphones. She sits on the curb and gently nudges the tapping foot with one of her own. It freezes, the music abruptly stops, there’s the unmistakable clanging of tools being tossed back into their toolbox, and then Bobby rolls out from under the car on his makeshift dolly, tugging off the headphones connected to the Walkman hooked to his waistband. He’s shirtless and almost ghostly pale in the dim streetlights, the dark circles under his eyes standing out in stark contrast as he sits up and braces his hands on the ground behind him, blinking widely up at her.
“I woke you up,” he says, voice hoarse and crackly like he’s been sick. Or crying. “I was trying to be quiet.”
This is something Rose has learned about Bobby in the last few weeks. He gives reasons, never excuses. And he never apologizes, not directly, not with words. She can’t help but wonder if this has always been true of him, or if it’s a tendency he’s only developed since that terrible night at the Orpheum.
She shakes her head, forgiving him, and holds out the water and pills she brought. He makes a face but takes them and comes over to sit next to her. “I’m fine,” he says unconvincingly, even as he cracks the water bottle open and takes a sip with a pained wince.
Rose waits until he’s popped two of the pills and drunk half the water before she lets herself relax, scooting closer with a feigned shiver (even though it’s a warm August night and she’s wearing more clothes than he is) so that she can get away with pressing into his side, offering comfort he didn’t ask for under the guise of seeking some extra warmth. “Ray’s making coffee.”
“Shit,” Bobby whispers, rubbing at his forehead. “I woke him up, too.” He doesn’t apologize, but she can tell he means to in the tightness of his jaw, the shadows on his face.
“Actually, I did.” Rose bumps her shoulder against his, making him blush and duck his head away from her gaze. “I thought you could use some company.”
Bobby shakes his head, drinks some more water, winces with every swallow. For a long time, he says nothing, and Rose doesn’t push him, just sits there next to him, ready and waiting to listen when he can find the right words to say. He frowns into the middle distance for another minute or so, then shakes his head again like he’s refusing some unwelcome thought and says, “I just couldn’t sleep. My head hurt.”
She slowly reaches a hand up, telegraphing every inch of movement, ready to stop if Bobby so much as flinches, and strokes his hair back out of his face. He tenses up at the touch and then sinks into it, a shudder running through him. He drops his head onto Rose’s shoulder and she abandons all pretense, carding her fingers through the silky strands of his hair, gently rubbing some of the tension lines out of his forehead. “Your head hurts because you don’t sleep, muñeco,” she murmurs.
Bobby raises his head just enough to shoot her an annoyed glare—he claims not to like the Spanish terms of endearment she and Ray throw around, claims he doesn’t know what they mean and therefore thinks they’re making fun of him—but there’s no real heat to it, and he returns his head to her shoulder a moment later, nuzzling in closer as she strokes his hair. “I can’t,” he says after another long silence, so quietly Rose almost doesn’t hear him. “Every time I close my eyes, I see them. I just can’t stop seeing them.”
Rose tugs him closer into her side, presses a kiss to the top of his head, smiles into his hair when he makes a disgruntled noise but doesn’t actively protest.
This is something else she’s learned about him. Bobby wants so badly to be touched, so badly to be cared for, so badly to be loved. But it must be given freely to him. Because he’ll never ask.
Behind them, the front door creaks open, and Rose turns her head to give Ray a tired but grateful smile as he joins them in his ratty pajamas and socked feet, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. He hands one to Rose and keeps the other for himself, then settles down on the curb on Bobby’s other side, pressing in close as he sips his coffee. Bobby sits up and frowns at him, mock-offended. “Hey, where’s mine?”
Ray shakes his head, doesn’t even look at him. “Mm-mm. You don’t get coffee until you sleep through the night. House rules, cariño.”
Bobby makes a face and turns to Rose for help. She just laughs into her own mug, shrugging unapologetically, and Bobby pouts.
“How can there be house rules when you don’t even own a house?” he grumbles, but shuffles closer, leaving Rose’s gentle hold to press his face into Ray’s shoulder. “God, I’m exhausted.”
Rose drinks her coffee and rubs soothing circles into Bobby’s back, feeling the too-thin, too-cold planes of his shoulder blades. A shudder runs through him that might be from the cold, the touch, or something else entirely. Rose meets Ray’s gaze over the boy’s head, sad and sympathetic and more worried than either of them has any right to be at 21 and 23. They may be older than Bobby, but they’re practically still kids themselves, and yet somehow in the last month they’ve taken this frail, broken boy under their wing, and sometimes they don’t know how to help him, don’t know if they can, but other times, like this, just being there for him is enough.
“They would’ve liked you,” Bobby says into Ray’s shirt sleeve, tensing under Rose’s hand. He doesn’t specify whom he means, and he doesn’t have to. Rose will never forget their names, even if she only heard them once, couldn’t even bear to read the article about them after that damn reporter tried to track Bobby down for a comment. Luke. Reggie. Alex. Bobby’s band. Bobby’s boys.
“If they loved you, nene, then I’m sure we would’ve liked them, too,” Ray says softly. This is what Rose loves most about him, these moments when she doesn’t know what to say, how to soothe, but he does, always. She’s so grateful for him, her sweet Ray who never met Sunset Curve, never knew Bobby before he was broken, not even for the hour that Rose did, and welcomed him into their lives anyway, didn’t question or complain for a second when Rose said, Meet me at the hospital. He can’t go back there. Please, mi corazón, can’t we help him?
Bobby shudders again, and Rose thinks he might be crying, but he makes no sound as he slumps forward, arms around Ray’s waist, face buried in Ray’s chest. Ray startles just the slightest amount, lifting his coffee cup out of the way so that it won’t spill, and then slowly lowers his arms to cautiously wrap around the boy. Rose reaches over and takes his mug for him, places them both on the curb next to her, and leans in to join the hug, pressing her lips to Bobby’s bare shoulder and whispering senseless reassurances into his skin.
Later, Ray carries a sleeping Bobby back into the house and lays him down in Ray and Rose’s bed, and they climb in on either side of him and hold him close as he gets his first full night’s sleep since the 22nd of July.
In the morning, Bobby shuffles into the kitchen bleary-eyed and squinty, moving slowly like he always does when he’s coming down from a migraine and doesn’t want to risk making it flare up again. Rose nudges him until he agrees to eat some breakfast, and Ray places a mug of fresh Cuban coffee in front of him with a kiss to his forehead and a whispered, “You earned it, bonbón.” Bobby doesn’t thank them, but he doesn’t need to.
“I’ll finish fixing the van today, Ray,” he promises once he’s finished eating. “And Rose, I noticed some of your guitars need re-stringing, if you want me to take a look.”
Rose exchanges a sort of fondly exasperated look with Ray across the table and strokes Bobby’s hair out of his face. “We already told you, Bobby. You don’t need to earn your keep. You just focus on getting better, and let us take care of you, okay?”
He blushes, ducks his head, but nods and mutters, “Yeah, sure, okay.”
Ray reaches a hand out across the table, palm up, pointer finger extended. Rose grins and links her finger with his, then nudges Bobby’s shoulder. He looks up, confused, and then his face relaxes in understanding and he manages something almost approaching a smile as he reaches out and taps his index finger against theirs, not quite joining Ray’s little handshake but not refusing it either. It’s good enough.
As they sit there, the three of them, Ray and Rose forcing water and painkillers on Bobby and giving him judgmental looks when he pours a second cup of coffee, Rose wonders if this is what parenting will feel like, when someday (in the very distant future, Abuela) she and Ray are ready to have kids (because there is no doubt in her mind that she will marry this man). They’re not Bobby’s parents—not even close—but she thinks he might be good practice for them anyway. In late nights and little sleep. In how to work their lives around someone else’s wants and needs. In caring for someone with so much of your heart you hurt when they do.
She thinks they’re doing a pretty damn good job at it, too.
--
Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @nickalicious @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @spidergirl0325 @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @cest-la-vie-de-la-lee @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @moreflowersthanweeds @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @shellydominique
#jatp#julie and the phantoms#fanfiction#jatp fanfiction#my fics#rose molina#ray molina#bobby wilson#raybse#ray/rose/bobby#ray/rose
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An Error's Journey
Chapter 64
Previous - First - Next
TW: Major character death, blood, death
He did enjoy Ink’s quirks. He truly did. While he didn’t like using the word–it made what was left of his soul ache like it was anticipating being hurt–he loved spending time with the weird God. However, every time he had to travel across the multiverse to find the other, he contemplated drop-kicking the smaller into ocean tale. Knowing Ink, the other would probably just laugh it off and spend the rest of their day swimming with dolphins and manta rays.
Hoping into another random AU he regretfully recognized the purple and monochrome landscape. He still hated this place. Day by day he despises the Gaster here more and more. His magic sparked in his hands, and with a deep breath in and out, it fizzled harmlessly away. Spending time learning his magic with Nim did help. He barely held back a chuckle, what would he do without them?
Shaking his head he barely saw in the distance two figures, one small and one tall. The two talking right near the center of town, undeniably Gaster and Ink.
Making his way closer, it seemed Ink and Gaster finished talking early, Ink running over to meet with Error, flinging themself at Error’s front and clutching on. For a soulless creature, Ink really did enjoy cuddling and any sappy stuff related to it.
“What are you up to?” He asked, holding Ink close against him, playfulness in his tone and a slight smile tugging at his cheeks.
“Nothing much, just helping out Gaster. He’s got a pretty cool project going on here!” Was the reply he got, only it was muffled by Ink nuzzling into the softness of his scarf. One eye closed and another open with a star, looking up at him.
“Uhuh, as long as it doesn’t affect the truce, it’s fine by me. Wanna go home?”
“Uh- which one? The antivoid ain’t no good, then there’s my realm and your extra house at Nim’s.”
“Eh, your pick.”
“Can I show you my house?”
“Didn’t you already?”
“Not the inside!” Ink jumped off, pulling their brush from their back and painting a portal on the ground, turning and grabbing Error’s hand as they fell backward, pulling both of them into a heap on the grass of the island.
Ink quickly scrambled up, not even bothering to brush off the grass and dirt, running to the front door to fling it open. Error slowly followed behind, looking at Ink with an eyebrow raise as he brushed himself off. “Come on–you gotta admit that was fun!”
“Yeah Yeah, just show me the inside and then we can relax.”
The house was extensive, but nothing that caught any of his interest, just another cramped space full of useless junk.
“It’s not junk!” Useless items. Cramped space of useless items. He didn’t bother to hear whatever rant came from Ink’s next protest of his word choice, picking up the other and throwing them over his shoulder like a sack of rice and pulling the both of them together onto Ink’s coach, getting comfy and pulling up what had become Error’s favorite show, Undernovela. These windows of his did help bring entertainment to them.
Over time- how long had it been since they met? He had never been good at keeping track of time, could’ve been centuries now for all he knows. Over time, his haphephobia had gotten better, he could go ages with Nim or Ink touching him now, although that didn’t apply to others–as they learned from an outing where he had to undergo an annoying crash, it still meant large progress.
It had probably been a few years since that first magic build-up, that house did come in handy. Even got a fireplace going in it to make drinking chocolate. Even if Ink makes fun of him for calling it that. It’s pretty much what it is, why not call it that? Nim had helped him a lot during that time, his and Ink’s studies were long since done, and the truce had been in place for who knows how long now, so most of his time was spent with them now. He could nearly laugh at the way he used to think, how horrible it would be to be around others. Now he could barely go a moment alone. And he completely enjoyed it.
“Error?”
“Yeah?”
“I… I think something's wrong.” Ink sat up, eyes blank orbs, pearly spheres looking back at him, “We need to go check Dreamtale.”
“Right now?”
“Right right now.” Ink’s voice was more serious than he would’ve ever thought, but he followed as Ink ran out the door and painted a portal on the grass.
The sky was bright blue, the grass a deep green. He didn’t know why he bothered with those details, but it felt like something that would be trapped in his memory. The sun had already begun its Journey down, and oddly enough, it can’t recall ever seeing the sunset in this AU. A bare memory of Nim shrugging saying that as long as they were there, they doubted it ever would.
Ink ran away from him, leaving the grassy plains, heading towards the hill. Error’s vision was too blurry to see much else but the tree and the forest and mountains–even the river that had grown next to it in the past centuries. He followed anyway.
Tallgrass flitted across his vision, blades smacking him in the face as he pushed them aside, running through the weeds and following the motion just a few hairs in front of him of grass moving for Ink. He stared near the ground, following the footprints Ink was leaving behind. Why had the dirt turned red? Why were the footprints red?
“Nim!” Ink’s broken voice yelled before he could feel the intent of true anger from Ink, “YOU!” He looked up to see Ink clutching Nim close, a pathetic mortal standing tall and cocky, a bleeding knife in hand.
His magic flickered to life, and he happily let it roam, slicing into the insolent mortal without another thought. As soon as all that anger was there it was gone. He could hear Ink sniffling, choking on sounds, and he stepped closer, barely seeing Nim’s dust rise and go back into the tree.
With a dying breath, they spoke: “Watch over the new guardians… remember your lessons… do not interfere… promise me.”
Everything went dark.
Where was he? Who was he? Nim? Ink? His vision couldn’t focus, too many people, too small of a space, too big? Too much.
Some cold attempted to touch him–Nim? No, not Nim. Back away. Back away. Tears sizzled against his cheeks, hands burning and itching with his magic and tears. His soul lurched, and he was moved again, sat on an island in the galaxy, Chronic before him.
They didn’t say anything, their double-bladed modified scythe standing menacingly next to them while their expression was soft. They slowly crouched down, as if afraid to frighten him further, placing the scythe next to them before inching forward.
“Are you back?”
Back? Back where? Where was Nim, ink-he’ll even take the damn voices from the antivoid!
“You don’t realize you’re talking, do you?” His blurry tear and smoke-filled vision moved up to Chronic, “...I had to pull you away from the gang before you caused more harm, your magic was uncontrolled.”
A blip next to them and Core appeared, remorse across their expression.
“What…? I- What?”
“You were pulled out of the memory recovery faster than you were meant to… but perhaps that is for better.” Core sighed, “You’re back in the present, Error, God of Destruction, adoptive father to Cross, partner to Nightmare and Death. Lapse, friend of Ink and Dream. Millionaire of Omega.” It hurt his skull to think.
A smoking dark wing stretched to him, and his scrambled mind jumped to think of Death–but it was still Chronic in front of him. “We’ll get you back to everyone else in due time. Rest now, Error. You are safe here.”
#undertale#utmv#an error's journey#aej#aej chapter 64#chapter 64#error sans#ink sans#nim#chronic#core
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You already know who I’m gonna ask for! BradRay for the domestic ship ask?!
ahh yes you know me too well!! sorry this took so long to answer, i am but a dumb, gay procrastinator fighting the feral urge to (yet again) become bradray trash 💜
who reaches out to new neighbors:
ray. but like, in an obnoxious way? he just talks shit to anybody okay. neither of them actually go out of their way to introduce themselves to their neighbours though (especially not anyone new). ray moved in with brad at the house he'd lived for ages and it's not until almost a year after THAT that they finally learn the names of the elderly couple living next door
who remembers to buy healthy food:
brad. ray is junk food all the way. brad tries to at least treat his body with some amount of respect (as he tells ray daily). although ray has a strange love for fruit and makes sure to buy a different one each time they do the groceries (one week he brings home tomatoes and brad bitches about then not being 'real fruit', leading to one of ray's infamous rants. brad wins, kinda, when he makes ray use the tomatoes in a fruit salad)
who remembers to buy junk food:
oh ray. no doubt about it! he has hoards of junk food stashed in all kinds of crazy places (cupboards, the bathroom cabinet, under the mattress...brad even found a snickers bar tucked by a damn plant pot). brad can't complain though because half of the treats are shit he loves - and, yes, ray bought it specifically for brad because he's, not-so-secretly, head-over-heels in love with him
who fixes the oven when it breaks:
ray! okay, this one was legitimately a toss up for a second there because i always imagine brad in his garage fixing his bike up so immediately went to say him but like...mechanics is a whole other playing field compared to kitchen appliances. which ray tells him. brad CAN fix the oven, he knows how to, but ray is just better at that shit and that's just the facts. besides, why would brad stress himself out fixing it when he could watch ray getting sweaty and dirty, shirtless with a tatty toolbelt clipped to his low-hanging jeans?!
who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s):
ray. ray has an obsession with house plants, particularly cacti - which he names. brad, on the other hand, is utterly hopeless when it comes to plants. before ray moved in, there was one flower pot on the kitchen windowsill and that was a gift from his sister. it was a fake plant. ray is also just more of an animal person than brad so he never forgets to feed their cat. brad is the one who sneaks her little bits of his own dinner
who wakes up earlier:
brad. he's a marine through and through, his body naturally wakes up at 6am on the dot, ready for his usual morning run. ray used to be like that but ever since he left the marines, he prefers to sleep in (unless he has class/work)
who makes the bed:
both of them. but only when they really have to. they're both messy okay, it's their house and their bedroom so why should they force themselves to keep it all tidy and neat?! that's their arguement when poke accidentally walks into their bedroom on his search for the bathroom
who makes the coffee:
they both do! they're coffee addicts and have long since memorised exactly how the other likes their coffee
who burns breakfast:
ray is surprisingly a great cook; he used to help his mom growing up, so it's rare he has any mishaps in the kitchen. brad however? yeah, brad can't cook anything but the basics. one time he tries to surprise ray by whipping up pancakes for breakfast and managed to stick the first one to the pan until it was nothing more than a crisp. ray found it hilarious, naturally
how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house:
ray shouts absurdly loud no matter where brad is in the house, shit-eating grin no doubt plastered to his face. brad prefers to find ray and loop his arms around his neck, kissing his cheek with a whispered "see you later"
how do they greet each other when one of them gets home:
ray 100% tackles brad no matter what he's doing. napping mapping the couch? he gets the wind knocked out of him when ray jumps on top of him. on a video call with family? think again; he has ray clinging to him like a sloth as he takes over the conversation. trying to work out? okay well obviously ray is gonna have to kiss him breathless. brad is more normal. he'll shout that he's back and then get on with his stuff, only wrapping ray up into a hug and planting a kiss to his hair when he finally comes across him
who brings home little gifts like flowers/chocolates more often:
neither of them are huge on this BUT, that being said, once brad finds out about ray's love of little plants he gets into the habit of buying cute cacti if he finds them in a shop
who picks the movie for movie night:
both of them! they have pretty similar taste in movies (unlike music) so there's not really any arguments on that matter
their favourite kind of movie to watch:
shitty or cliché action/comedy movies! collateral damage, top gun, fast and furious, pacific rim, the matrix...that sort of stuff. they're also both guilty of quoting these movies ridiculously well, to the point that their friends (if they're with them whilst watching) will start complaining about how they didn't come to hear their dumb fucking voices talk over the whole damn movie
who first suggests a pillow fort:
ray! he LOVES pillow forts and always wants brad to let him build one
who builds the pillow fort:
they do it together okay, two heads are better than one. brad is good with the structure side of the pillows, ray is great with the adding blankets into the mix
who tries to distract the other during the movie:
brad. because he's secretly a little shit. it'll start with making stupid comments, then he'll throw his arm casually around the back of the couch, sneaking closer to ray before finally peppering kisses up his neck. ray, depending on how into the movie he is, will either swat at him to get off or just give in completely
who falls asleep first:
ray. he sleeps everywhere. and if he's next to brad, snuggled up close to his own personal human radiator, then he has no chance of not drifting off to sleep. brad finds it endearing as fuck
who is big spoon/little spoon:
RAY IS THE LITTLE SPOON!!!
domestic ship headcanons
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Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance releasing new music in 2023 to fight their one common enemy (Brendon Urie)
#fob8#ray rants and junk#I’m right#p!atd#fuck Brendon Urie#fob#fall out boy#MCR#mcr5#my chemical romance#my chem
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Now I see daylight — a Twilight fanfic
summary: Edward spent his life so long in a ninety-year midnight. Now, all he sees is daylight. A short story about Nessie’s first prom. “How could I ever tell her how grateful I was? Grateful that she could always see past the worst of me and my mistakes. Grateful that she had unlimited selflessness, giving us the family I’d envisioned for her, but thought impossible for me. Grateful that she was all too happy to be the first and only love of my existence. Grateful that cruel fate, after our various ordeals, had turned merciful to bring us to this heaven.” words: 8,280.
AN: so. i was absolutely wrecked after reading the very sad note on which midnight sun ended. to lick my wounds, i wrote this fic, set 12 years after breaking dawn, on the day of nessie’s prom. 404 plot not found just fluff of edward & bella being happy with their now adult daughter. title/summary inspired by the t.s. song daylight. full text under the cut!
Bella and I walked with hands intertwined in the woods behind our house, on our way to the cottage a few miles away that served as our daughter Renesmee’s “room.” When she turned seven, we decided she deserved a space of her own, a space that was removed from her supernatural family who could hear every move she made even if she had a whole floor of the house to herself. It was not unlike the first cottage the three of us had lived in together, back in Forks, in the first year of Bella and I’s marriage. To me, those days seemed as close as yesterday—in reality, twelve years had passed like the blink of an eye. Our daughter was all grown-up now, about to graduate high school for the first time, and today was her very first prom.
We walked at human pace, enjoying the lights and the sounds of early morning in the forest. Before Bella, I would have hated moving at such a glacial pace, always wanting to reach my destination as fast as possible, never lingering under the sunlight long enough to contemplate the diamond-like sparkling of my marble skin. A constant reminder of my inhumanity. But now I relished having the chance to see my wife in the light of day. I knew that all the poets and philosophers who, for two thousand of years, had tried to define beauty, to describe it, had irrevocably failed—because none of them had been fortunate enough to witness Bella smiling and shining under the golden rays of sunlight. I squeezed her hand and chuckled to myself.
Bella, of course, noticed my jocularity. “What are you thinking about?” she wondered.
“I thought that was my line,” I replied, grinning at her. Bella easily controlled her gift now, raising and lowering her mental shields at will. Except in special moments of communication, her shields were always up. She could maintain shields around other people, too, granting peace for me and privacy for my family. The quiet that resulted inside my head was a balm; I could be thankful for it for a hundred years and it would not be enough.
She sighed, and her eyes were suddenly downcast. “Well, I’m glad one of us is cheerful enough to laugh today.” She stopped walking, let go of my hand, and sought shelter under the shadow of a large evergreen tree. I regretted seeing her move away from the sunshine.
Her mournful tone surprised me. “What’s wrong, love? You’ve been looking forward to Renesmee’s prom for weeks now.” It was all I heard the ladies at the house discussing as of late. Alice, our very own literal visionary, was making all their dresses, works of art that were sure to rival even the most revered of Paris’ haute couture scene. Rosalie was browsing our family’s sizable collection of jewelry—composed of heirlooms from our human lives and the very many anniversary gifts from over the decades—for the perfect sets of accessories that would go with Alice’s creations. Esme was renovating and redecorating the front room, the staircase, and the porch, in preparation for today’s sure-to-be endless photo opportunities.
Bella looked up at me, her golden eyes looking regretful. “I just… can’t help but be a little sad that she’s grown up so fast. She’s only twelve, Edward. I spent more time as a clumsy, awkward human child than I’ve spent as her mother,” Bella said, sighing again. “And now she’s graduating and going off to college for the first time? She’s not an adult! How are we even sure she’s fit to be by herself in the human world already? How is she gonna eat? How will she hunt? What if she needs us, or she gets hurt and Carlisle can’t get to her in time? She can’t just go to a human doctor!” Her voice got more and more agitated with every worry she voiced. “And what if she starts dating? And she doesn’t tell us because we’re not there?! She says she’s not interested in anyone romantically now, boys or otherwise, but it’s her first four years in college! She’s bound to catch the sights of some… some no-good jerk who—”
“Stop, Bella,” I said gently, interrupting her before she could spiral any further. I had to resist the urge to laugh at her tirade. It reminded me of the time I went on a very similar, equally anxious rant. Emmett had thought I was a crazy person, worrying about the myriad things that could wipe the human girl I loved out of existence. This time, though, these worries were much easier for me to assuage than when I was fretting over Bella’s mortality and her uncanny ability to attract danger.
I joined her under the cover of the tree and held her marble face in my hands. “Love, I understand wholly all of your anxieties. They’re mine, too. But we need to put a significant amount of trust and faith in our daughter if we want to stay sane during the next four years,” I said earnestly, cracking a little smile, and then started addressing Bella’s concerns one at a time.
“I’m also sad that it has been just twelve short years, and already, we have to let her go. And as much as we may not like it, she is an adult now. She has been for five years. I know she grew up too fast, but if that is the small sacrifice that makes the miracle of her existence possible, then so be it. And she’s had no problems being around humans since she started high school with us when she was eight. As for her eating habits, well, I am worried about the amount of junk food she’ll consume once she is left unsupervised. And she doesn’t need to hunt as frequently as we do…. Once, maybe twice, a month, she can come back here and any one of us would love to go hunting with her. She is also not so fragile that she would ever need the care of any other doctors than Carlisle, Rosalie, or me. As for her first romantic relationship, well... she’s smart, strong-willed. We have to trust that we have raised her well enough that she’ll be responsible, that she’ll know how to protect her heart, and that she’ll be comfortable enough to turn to us for any questions she might have. You are a good mother, Bella. You raised an amazing young woman.” She looked as though she was about to argue, but she said nothing. She must have lowered her shield because I heard her thoughts instead: We raised an amazing young woman. You, Carlisle, Esme, Rose, Alice, Emmett, and Jasper… Even Charlie, Sue, Jacob, and Seth. It really does take a village. Her smile was wry.
I shook my head and smiled back at her. She was still bad at taking compliments. “We just have to trust Ness, love. As much as I would never want to see her hurt, we have to let her make her own mistakes. To let her take risks. And we have to give her freedom while she still thinks it’s ours to grant. If she thinks she’s not ready for this yet, or becomes overwhelmed in any way, she knows she can come back home at any time. All we can do is be there for her, and as long as she knows she’s not alone in this, that she never has to carry the world on her shoulders because we’re supposed to carry part of it for her… She will be fine.”
I looked straight into my wife’s eyes, still holding her face, hoping I had eased her anxieties a little. She visibly relaxed, then placed her hands over mine.
“You know, I really hate it when you make sense,” Bella stated matter-of-factly, glaring at me and pouting a little. I laughed and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. Then I pulled her close to my side and led us back on the way to Renesmee’s cottage. If, thirteen years ago, anyone—even Alice—had told me that someday I would be trying to soothe Bella after a bout of anxiety instead of the other way around, I would have laughed in their face.
We made it to the cottage in companionable silence, and Bella’s mood seemed cheerier than before, back to being excited for the day’s events. She knocked on the door, calling for Nessie to wake up, but our daughter opened the door in a flash, greeting us with a chipper hello and a wave to indicate that we should let ourselves in.
“Good morning, Ness. You’re up early,” I commented. Not that our daughter was a late sleeper, but she was also not what one would call a morning person.
“I’m very well-rested, thank you,” she said, walking to the couch in the middle of the cottage’s main living area and plopping down onto it.
“How many hours did you sleep last night?” I asked, suspicious. Half-human, half-vampire hybrid though she was, Carlisle’s recommendation was still at least seven hours of sleep a night, and she often ignored it.
“Seven,” she replied too fast. I raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, six. Maybe five total…” she grimaced, sheepish now. “I was reading books! And I finished a movie.” I was unhappy to hear it. We really didn’t have an exact number of how many hours of sleep she needed each night, but I was sure five wasn’t enough for anyone, human or otherwise. I shook my head and sat next to her on the couch.
The cottage was a cozy place, with a kitchenette in the main room, one bedroom and a small bathroom down a narrow hallway. The main area was where Nessie spent most of her time, a rectangular room with big windows that let in a generous amount of natural light. The wide wall in front of the couch served as the canvas for a mural of the turquoise sea and white-sand beach at Isle Esme, painted from memory by Bella and Renesmee. The three of us had spent two weeks there a couple of years ago to celebrate Nessie’s birthday and my tenth wedding anniversary with Bella. It was my favorite painting in the world.
On the eastern wall was a bay window, Renesmee’s favorite reading nook, flanked by two tall bookshelves. And in front of the couch was a low coffee table, cluttered with books, stacks of paper, journals, pens, paints and paintbrushes, canvasses, coffee mugs, and a laptop. I sighed. The organized chaos, as Ness often referred to it, reminded me much of her mother’s old room at the Swan residence. Bella started tidying up the table immediately, replacing books onto the shelves and rearranging the mess on the table. I turned my attention to the kitchenette’s dirty dishes and the haphazardly discarded clothes on the couch, shaking my head at the untidiness. She spent her days with us either at school or at the main house, and sometimes even slept there when she felt like it. How could one girl create so much disarray after one night?
“Mom, Dad, stop it, I’ll do that later…” Nessie admonished us halfheartedly, but we were done cleaning up before she finished speaking the sentence.
“Did you already have breakfast, honey?” Bella asked.
Ness nodded and grinned. “I had cereal and two Pop-Tarts.”
Wonderful. Clearly she knew how to make healthy choices. I almost wished for the time before she had outgrown her distaste for human food. At least on a diet of animal blood, we knew she was getting some nutrients.
Bella rolled her eyes, although I knew she wasn’t really annoyed. “Esme will make you eat some fruit at the house. Are you ready to go now? Alice wants to do a final fitting of your dress, just in case she needs to make any changes.”
“It’s too bad Aunt Alice can’t see me in her visions. She could just decide to make any changes and then know which ones are right,” Nessie mused, then shook her head and bounded up from the couch, walking quickly down the hallway and into her bedroom. She came out a second later, hands deftly fastening a necklace on the nape of her neck. It was the necklace Rosalie had given her as a present for her birthday last year, a thin platinum chain and an oval pendant with the family crest on it. We filed out of the cottage, and Bella locked the door behind her.
The three of us walked together, Nessie in the middle. I asked her what books she was reading last night that she had gotten so little sleep. Instead of communicating verbally, she held my hand and showed me.
I started seeing her memories from only a few hours ago, implanted into my mind as seamlessly as though they were my own. I saw her reading all seven books of C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia series and watching the first film adaptation. I saw how much she’d enjoyed them. Then, I saw her thoughts on the character Aslan, the wise talking lion and savior of Narnia. She admired him, his kindness and wisdom and compassion…. Suddenly, I saw my own face mixed in with images of the lion. She was trying to tell me the lion reminded her of me.
It shocked me. I’d enjoyed the world of Narnia at the time they were published and became widely popular in the 1950s, and even Bella had told me it was one of her favorite book series. As a lonely immortal, I’d always taken comfort in the fact that I had an Aslan-like figure in my life to look up to. My father, Carlisle. It never occurred to me to think that I could ever fill that role for someone else.
I must be doing something right, I marveled to myself. If Renesmee could liken me to someone who reminded me so much of Carlisle, then perhaps fatherhood wasn’t as lost on me as I had so often felt it was. It was like I was walking on a cloud, an invisible weight lifted off my shoulders. I wrapped my arm around Nessie as we walked, trying to let her know how much I appreciated the privilege of her sharing her thoughts with me. And then she surprised us by speaking in a serious tone.
She moved away from under my arm and moved a few paces ahead, turning around so she could face us. She walked backwards as she talked, her footing steady and sure. “Momma, Daddy, I don’t think I’ve thanked either of you yet… for allowing me to go and study on my own. I know you’ve always tried to let me have a normal childhood, to make sure I never missed out on anything. I love living with you guys. I love talking to Grandpa Carlisle about history and art. I love helping Grandma work on houses. I love shopping and appreciating fashion with Aunt Alice and Aunt Rose. I love playing chess with Uncle Jasper and Uncle Emmett. I love our piano lessons, Daddy, and our two-person exclusive book club, Momma. I love going back to Forks on holidays to visit Grandpa Charlie. I love our baseball games. But now I’m ready to experience the world for myself. I know it must be hard to let me go and that you’re scared for me. I’m scared, too….”
If my heart were still alive, it might have grown in size from the joy I felt. Renesmee rarely addressed us this way anymore. It was always Mom and Dad or Edward and Bella, if we were in public. It carried me back to the days when she was still just a little child. A rapidly growing, highly intelligent child, but still our little child. She was always so perceptive; it was as though she’d sensed the essence of the conversation Bella and I had had before we reached the cottage, and this sober declaration was her way of telling us she understood.
“You have nothing to thank us for, sweetheart,” I said quickly, at the same time that Bella hurried to ask Nessie what she was afraid of, concern in her voice.
Our daughter blew out a long breath. “I’m scared of living alone, of being completely responsible for myself. But I’m really excited about it, too, and most of the time the excitement overpowers any doubts I have. I’m certain I wanna do this, and don’t they always say that something isn’t worth doing if you’re not at least a little bit afraid?” she asked, her smile reaching her deep brown eyes.
Bella paused and left my side to grasp our daughter by the shoulders. “All we want, Nessie, all we will ever want, is your happiness. And we want you to find out what that means for you on your own terms. If you decide tomorrow that you’d be happy never going to college at all, none of us will argue with your decision. But I can see how sure you are about going. I can’t promise you that I won’t be worried sick and that I won’t be calling you multiple times a day until you’re very, very annoyed with me… But I know you can take care of yourself now, and I can’t wait to see what you do next, baby.” Bella’s lovely voice sounded assured, no trace of the anxiety she’d confided in me just moments earlier. This was what I meant whenever I told Bella she was a good mother, and seeing her in action never failed to earn my awe.
“Thank you, Momma,” Renesmee said sincerely, circling her arms around Bella, and Bella hugged her back. “And I promise I will never be annoyed by your calls, even if you call a hundred times a day,” she said, grinning. “I won’t ignore yours, either, Daddy.”
This made me and Bella laugh. Of course Nessie would make time to take her crazy parents’ calls. No one was sweeter than our daughter.
Their hug ended, and we kept walking. Suddenly there was a glint of mischief in Renesmee’s eyes, and then she touched my arm and Bella’s to tell us we were being challenged to a race. Before the thought was even fully communicated she had already taken off running to the house. I shook my head and chuckled as we hurried after her. She couldn’t quite run as fast as vampires, but the head start might be enough to guarantee her win.
When we reached the house, my brothers were waiting outside for us to arrive. They both had cameras in hand—Jasper a professional digital SLR and Emmett a Polaroid instant camera. With Bella around, I couldn’t hear their minds, so I raised an eyebrow at the both of them in question. What were they up to now?
“Nessie’s already in the house, you rusty old slowpokes,” Emmett said in greeting, mocking me and Bella. But mostly me. “And to think you used to be the fastest, Edward. What a fall from grace. Let me take a picture of this really embarrassing moment for you real quick.” He positioned the instant camera near my face and pressed a button, and it started whirring as it printed out the picture. He grinned and deposited it into a large red handbag, presumably Rosalie’s, that he had slung over his shoulder.
I rolled my eyes at my brother and asked what they were doing with the cameras instead of responding to Emmett’s attempts at vexing me. It was Jasper who answered. “We’re having a photography competition. Whoever contributes the most shots for Esme’s photo albums will win. She’s planning to keep one for us and one to send to Forks for Charlie, so we’ll need a lot of pictures.”
“Yeah, and the winner—who will definitely be me—gets to skip the bake sale that Esme is going to for some hospital fundraiser,” Emmett explained with an arrogant smile. I rolled my eyes again. Of course my brothers had found a way to turn this day into some kind of contest.
“Doesn’t the Polaroid give you a pretty significant disadvantage, Em?” I pointed out, wondering how much film he was lugging around in Rose’s handbag.
“Just because it’ll be more challenging doesn’t mean I can’t still win,” he replied, shrugging. “The pictures I take will be better. Plus, the easy way is overrated, don’t you think?”
Jasper shook his head at Emmett’s smugness, then told me and Bella to pose for a picture. I turned to Bella and she turned to me, and I held both of her hands. I smiled adoringly down at her as she stared back up at me with her deep, amber eyes. We weren’t looking at the cameras, but I heard the workings of the two small devices as my brothers captured the moment.
“Aww, you two are disgusting,” Emmett chuckled as Jasper showed the photograph to all of us on the camera’s tiny screen. “Esme’s going to love that one.” The Polaroid Emmett had taken was still developing, and he shoved it inside the red bag with all the others. Then they went inside to find better subjects for their contest.
Bella and I made our way inside as well. The house was alive with the whole family looking forward to tonight’s events. I heard Alice, Rosalie, and Nessie in Alice’s room, chattering and working away on their gowns. I heard Esme in the kitchen, making breakfast for Renesmee or perhaps practicing some recipes for the upcoming bake sale. I heard Jasper and Emmett running around everyone like a couple of paparazzi, taking pictures left and right. Only Carlisle was absent, hard at work at the hospital, but he’d be back in time to see us all off to prom tonight. Bella kissed my cheek in farewell before joining Nessie with her aunts upstairs.
I gravitated towards the piano, as I often did. I scanned the perfect mental repository of all the music I knew, trying out a few bars from different pieces—some my own compositions and some written by better musicians than I—but none of them spoke to me…. Until one did. I sat down and began playing the first notes of “Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity” from Holst’s orchestral suite, The Planets. It was a piece that sounded abundantly better when played by a full orchestra, but I enjoyed it regardless. My hands glided quickly across the piano keys to produce the quick, jaunty chords of the exposition. Then the development came in ritardando, varying from the cheery main theme to take a strangely calm, nostalgic turn. Although it evoked feelings of nostalgia, it wasn’t sad. Only pensive about a time already past. The piece concluded a tempo, returning to the happy and powerful main theme. I didn’t realize how much the song reflected my mood until I was already finished playing it.
Knowing her thoughts were protected by Bella’s shield, Esme offered me her kind compliments out loud from the kitchen. “That was wonderful, Edward,” she gushed. “I have always been so fond of that piece. Please play some more, darling.” I murmured a thanks, then obliged my mother and started playing her favorite, the very song I had played for Bella the first time I brought her home to meet my family. Even though the memory was tainted by the agony and danger of the events that followed, I still looked back on it with some joy. That was the night Bella became a part of our family.
The day went on that way, calm and peaceful, everyone busy with their respective tasks. Nessie came down to join me once in the afternoon and let me hear a new composition she was working on. It was her best yet, and I told her as much. Bella came downstairs as well, listening to me play and rereading Persuasion by Jane Austen while she sat beside me on the piano bench.
Before long, it was time for us to get dressed and ready for the prom. I quickly changed into my dark brown suit. The color had been my only stipulation, the rest decided by Alice’s keen sense of fashion. Since that overcast Thursday morning—the day that had been my turn to ask questions—my favorite color had never wavered from brown. The chocolate-brown color of Bella’s human eyes was not just preserved fondly in my memories, but alive forever in Nessie, and it was beyond the bounds of possibility for me to separate such a color from the meaning of all my happiness.
After I was dressed, I tried to peek into Alice’s room to see if they were ready to go, but Alice, annoying as ever, blocked my entrance and told me to wait with Esme and Carlisle downstairs. I rolled my eyes but followed her instructions. Arguing with Alice was almost never worth it.
Carlisle was just arriving home from work right as I was coming down the stairs, and when he saw me, his eyes lit up. “Why, you look great, Edward,” he praised, setting his medical bag down on a table in the foyer. I thanked him humbly. He reached up and loosened his tie, likely more out of habit than out of a need to be more comfortable. It struck me as a very fatherly thing to do. Esme came out of the front room, greeting Carlisle with a bright smile and a quick kiss. “You’re home just in time, dear. I think the girls are almost done helping Nessie get ready.”
I snorted. At this rate, we were never going to leave the house in time. “Alice, we’ll be late!” I shouted in the direction of the stairs, knowing she could hear me perfectly.
“No, we won’t!” Alice chimed back confidently. I sighed.
Jasper and Emmett were already in their tuxedos and bounded quickly down the stairs, cameras still in hand. Rosalie was the one who joined us next, looking devastating in a burgundy mermaid dress. Emmett looked like he was about to combust. Jasper smirked at our brother’s dumbstruck expression, snapping a few pictures.
Then it was my turn to be dumbstruck as Bella started down the stairs, moving at full speed to be at my side in an instant. “Alice wouldn’t let me see Ness wearing her dress yet,” she complained, but all my attention was on her at that moment. She looked positively incredible wearing a knee-length, square-necked light azure dress, held up by thin straps with flutter sleeves and inset with a thousand little rhinestones that looked like stars. My wife could have been Selene herself, come down from the moon. I ran my fingers gently through Bella’s long, straight brown locks and pressed my palm to her cheek. And for the nth time in so many years, I was glad for the deal I’d made with Bella on our first wedding anniversary. “You look beautiful, love. Absolutely arresting,” I said honestly.
“I know,” Bella said, beaming up at me, and I laughed happily. This was our deal: whenever I told her the indisputable truth about how beautiful she looked, all she had to say in response was that she knew. In exchange, I was forbidden from spending money on gifts for her for exactly five years, and five years was such a short time for creatures such as we that the zero-gifts rule felt like it was lifted immediately. I circumvented the moratorium, anyway, by getting gifts that were for both Bella and Nessie, or both Bella and Esme…. It may not have been the fairest of contracts, but my intentions were of the purest kind. I leaned down and pulled my beautiful goddess of a wife into a deep kiss, and I felt her wide smile as her arms wrapped around my neck. We only broke away from each other when we heard Alice skipping down the stairs, dressed in a white two-piece cocktail dress that made her look like a mischievous fairy.
“Get ready, everyone!” Alice squealed, clapping her hands in anticipation. “I can’t wait to see your reactions, I know you’ll all just die.”
My sister was right. Renesmee—our only daughter, the greatest joy of our lives—stood at the top of the stairs in a gorgeous, peach pink off-shoulder gown decorated with the same little rhinestones that were on her mother’s dress and delicate leaf-patterned lace appliques, and she was a sight to die for. As she walked slowly down the stairs, one hand on the banister, Emmett and Jasper took pictures fervently, documenting the entire moment. I saw Bella press her hand to her chest, eyes soft and adoring.
“Well, how do I look?” Nessie asked when she reached the bottom of the stairs, a half-smile on her face. Her soft bronze hair fell in long, spiral waves down her shoulders, and on her neck, she still wore the necklace she’d put on this morning. She spun around in a circle, indulging the attention we lavished on her, understanding that today would not have been such a significant event for us if not for her. Esme made me, Bella, and Nessie pose for pictures by the staircase, then on the couch in the front room, and then outside on the porch. After Esme was satisfied with the pictures of the three of us, Jasper and Emmett set up a tripod and took a photo with all nine of us in the front room, our latest family portrait. When the photoshoot was done, we all filed into our vehicles to make our way to school. Bella and Nessie rode with me in the Volvo, and my siblings rode in Rosalie’s M3.
We made it to the high school just in time, and even from the car, I could already hear the booming electronic dance music and the excited prattle of hundreds of human children crowded around in the school gym. I prepared myself for the barrage of human thoughts I would have to hear tonight; the only people Bella would shield here were our family. Although Bella could shield a roomful of people from me easily, I still needed to be on the lookout for any suspicious minds when we were in public like this. The three of us met the rest of my siblings at the doors to the gym and joined the throng of high schoolers, looking like they were having the time of their lives. Little did they know how many lethal supernatural creatures had just descended upon this party. If they knew, maybe they wouldn’t be so happy.
“Are you ready for your first—but definitely not last—prom, Carlie?” Emmett asked my daughter, grinning. Nessie went by her middle name at school to be less conspicuous. At first, Bella was greatly displeased by the necessity of this precaution, but she couldn’t deny the rationale. We stood out more than enough being newcomers in a small town like this one, with our sheer number, our wealth, our beauty, and our semi-frequent ‘family trips’ to avoid the sun.
“Time to dance the night away!” Nessie said, grinning back at her uncle. She bounded away from us to meet a couple of her classmates, two girls who reminded me of Bella’s human friends, not physically, but in their manner and thoughts. Ness didn’t have many friends, and we had started to worry that her only interaction with other living beings was isolated to her family, but she rarely found her human classmates interesting, and when she did, it was because she genuinely had something in common with them.
The girl who was like Jessica, a brown-haired girl named Lindsay, shouted over the loud music at Nessie in greeting. “Oh my God, look how gorgeous you are!” Jesus, she looks like she belongs in some runway show right now. I wonder what designer this dress is by? Probably cost a million bucks…. I kind of hate her. Lindsay’s thoughts were petty and vitriolic, and I resisted the urge to march over there and shield my daughter from the bitter girl. That would have done more harm than good, so I settled for rolling my eyes and whispering in my wife’s ear about the girl’s thoughts. It was gossipy and ungentlemanly, but I had to share the burden of being powerless to protect Nessie from a fake friend.
“Oh, that girl is in my English class,” Bella said, looking unsurprised. “I knew she was mean, but I liked her Shakespeare essays. Nessie thinks she’s smart.” I scoffed and tuned in to the other girl’s thoughts—Annie, a girl with short, pink-dyed hair who made me think of Angela. She greeted Nessie with a hug, and thought, Wow, she looks like a princess. I should ask her to take a selfie with me! My mom will be super bummed if I don’t take a lot of pics tonight…. Annie pulled out a smartphone, and the three girls smiled as the little device flashed and snapped their ‘selfies.’ And then they ran to the dance floor together, jumping and laughing to the music.
I stayed with Bella in a darkened corner, and we watched Renesmee enjoying herself. Occasionally, one of my siblings would pull us away and make us dance to the upbeat music, but neither of us were particularly fond of the DJ’s infernal choices. The DJ, a baby-faced young boy called Drew who had Spanish class with me, exclusively played EDM and bastardized remix versions of classic love songs. By the ninth EDM song in a row, I finally put my proverbial foot down and crashed the DJ booth on stage to bribe him with a fifty dollar bill so he would play a song of my choosing. The boy was astonished and could barely say anything back to me, but as I walked through the crowd to reach Bella again, Johnny Ace’s “Pledging My Love” started blaring through the loudspeakers. I took Bella’s hand as we walked to the middle of the dance floor, and once we were there, I pulled her close to me and led us in a slow, intimate dance.
“This is the most romantic song I know,” Bella whispered, her head resting on my chest as we swayed slowly in a circle.
I chuckled. “Once upon a time, in a very old and decrepit truck, this song came on the radio and provided an apt soundtrack for the most romantic day of my life. Do you still remember that?”
Bella lifted her head from my chest and looked up at me, her eyebrows knitted together playfully. “My God, thirteen years and you’re still hating on the truck? I think you’ve got some issues to sort out there, honey,” she said, her beautiful lips turned up in a smirk. Then her face became more earnest. “But of course I remember. That was one of the best days of my life, too.”
Her amber eyes looked so full of love, so full of sincerity, that I felt like falling to my knees. As a mature vampire, more than a decade after her transformation, she should have no more than a few blurry recollections of her human life. But Bella felt so strongly about me, about the memories we’d made, that she vehemently held on to our past, even as each day, each minute, and each second brought us further away from it. I kissed her, always trying to let her know how precious she was to me. The song was nearly over, and I sighed. I could have stayed there dancing with her forever and never need anything more.
“Smile, please!” I heard Renesmee say, Emmett’s Polaroid camera in her hand. She snapped a photo of us. Then she turned the camera around, sandwiched herself between her mother and I, stuck her tongue out goofily, and pressed the button on the camera to take a picture again. Bella laughed.
“Where did your friends go?” Bella asked. “I was starting to think you guys would never get tired of dancing together.”
“Oh, they went back to their dates,” Nessie said nonchalantly. “So I decided to annoy Uncle Em by taking his camera.” A folky, lullaby-like acoustic song was now playing through the speakers.
“Oh—I love this song so much!” Nessie gasped. “Please dance with me, Dad?” She whispered the last word to keep any humans from hearing.
How could I refuse her? “Of course, sweetheart.”
Bella smiled and took the camera and the Polaroids from Nessie, saying something about finding Emmett and his big red bag. I led my daughter in a slow dance around the crowd, her hands resting on my shoulders.
“You and Mom looked amazing dancing together like that,” Nessie said casually, but by the look on her face, I could feel how serious the conversation was going to be. “I know the story, Dad. I know everything you went through before you could get here. And I am so happy that it worked out for you. Seeing how much you love Momma, how much she loves you… it makes me never wanna settle for anything less than that.”
My brows furrowed. “Is that why you said no to the boys who asked you to be their date tonight? Because you don’t love any of them?”
We kept swaying to the music, and Nessie chuckled. “Kind of. It’s true I said no because I don’t feel a connection to any of them, but also because I didn’t want tonight to be about some stranger hanging out around our family. I wanted it to just be us, so we could be ourselves.”
My heart swelled. Nessie always thought of our family first. That wasn’t her responsibility, and we would’ve been all too happy to pretend to be human and normal for any prom date of her choice, but she thought of us first. She was so like her mother in some ways.
“What did you mean, then? About never settling for anything less?” I asked. Something about the way she’d said it worried me, made me feel as though there were insecurities underneath her positive tone that needed to be addressed.
She took a deep breath. “I just… I realized that real love like I’ve seen with you and Mom, Grandma and Grandpa, Uncle Em and Aunt Rose, Uncle Jasper and Aunt Alice… it’s rare and it’s wonderful. And I think I would prefer waiting for a love where I could feel everything there is to feel rather than try to force something with anyone I’m not sure about. And I realize I could be waiting forever if I keep waiting for something perfect, but that’s the point, isn’t it? And I can’t imagine how I would ever find something like that. And that’s all right, I think.”
Renesmee’s words were full of conviction, and I started thinking about how, someday, the day would come when we would be dancing just like this—I would be in a tuxedo and she would be in a big white dress—at her wedding, for the father-daughter dance. Like her, I could not imagine yet the person she would marry, but I saw our family there. I saw Charlie desperately trying to ignore how our faces still remained unchanged. I saw Jacob, whom Renesmee considered her best friend, taking a break from managing his own auto repair shop to be there as her best man. It would be the happiest day of her life, just as how my wedding had been one of the happiest days of mine, and it saddened me that she couldn’t see herself finding that happiness one day. But I understood Nessie’s conclusions—or maybe more accurately, her fears—about not finding love. When I was still alone, I’d come to similar conclusions that the kind of happiness I saw in my family was simply not meant for me. Even when I’d found Bella, I always chose the saddest path, never daring to hope that I could have happiness with her forever.
“I admire your position about refusing to settle, Ness, because you deserve only the best. And I was just like you once. Before I found your mother, I never saw the point in pursuing relationships that I knew weren’t going to be meaningful. But you shouldn’t let yourself believe that you won’t find what you’re looking for.” I brushed a stray lock of curly bronze hair behind Nessie’s ear, hoping she could hear the honesty in what I was saying. “You know that for our kind, waiting through decades of being alone before finding who you’re meant for is more common than finding that right away….So please, don’t be so resigned. You are entirely too young to resign yourself to an eternity of being alone. It will work out, somehow,” I finished, echoing Esme’s confident words to Bella long ago when our relationship was at its very beginning.
Renesmee nodded, and I hoped my reassurances had lifted a little of the weight off her shoulders. I didn’t need to have Jasper’s gift for empathy to know that existing in both our world and the human world, not quite belonging in either, was a difficult thing to process. I didn’t know what the future held for my daughter—none of us did—but I looked forward to it with the same optimism my own parents had always had for me.
The acoustic ballad we were dancing to ended softly, and I escorted her away from the dance floor so we could rejoin our family.
“My feet kind of hurt,” Nessie complained as we found Bella sitting beside Rosalie on some folding chairs, but a smile was still bright on her face. She was having such fun tonight.
“Do you want to go home, baby?” Bella asked as Nessie dragged over another chair to sit down between Bella and Rose. Nessie rested her head on Rose’s shoulder, and Rose circled her arm around Nessie in a one-armed hug. “You’ve been dancing all night, I’m sure you’re tired.”
“Yeah, I think I wanna go home,” Ness said, sounding a little sleepy.
Suddenly, Lindsay and Annie appeared out of the crowd as an upbeat pop song started playing. “Carlie, come dance with us!” one of the human girls said.
Nessie perked up. “Wait, I love this song! Just one last!” she said enthusiastically, heading back to the dance floor with her friends. I shook my head, amazed at her energy. I sat down on the seat that Nessie had just vacated.
“We’re still a go for tomorrow, right, Rose?” I asked Rose discreetly. If the weather was safe enough for us to be out, we were going into the city tomorrow so Rose could help me pick out Nessie’s very first car. She learned how to drive when she was seven but always used the cars that belonged to the rest of the family. Now that she was going to college, she needed a vehicle to be able to get around on her own. Bella was coming with us, too, to be the voice of reason. Apparently, Rose was just as likely as I was to pick a car that Bella would deem—and this was her word—‘overkill.’ Rose only nodded in response, but I saw the corners of her mouth turn up a little.
We all watched as Nessie danced to one last song with her friends, and I could pick her lovely voice out of the babble of other noise as she sang along. “There’s a mountaintop that I’m dreamin’ of…. If you need me, you know where I’ll be!”
“She’ll call us constantly once she’s in college, right?” Bella asked me in an emotional whisper, looking at our daughter jumping up and down and singing with her friends. Since she became a vampire, I rarely thought of my wife as vulnerable anymore, but she looked vulnerable now. If our bodies were still capable of shedding tears, I wondered if she would be crying. Honestly, I realized I wanted to cry as well. Renesmee was ready to create her own life, and she needed us less and less every day. Years ago, I’d thought loving Bella was the greatest accomplishment of my life, the only good thing I would ever do. I’d thought that, after a hundred years of emptiness, loving Bella as thoroughly and as completely as I did was the strongest feeling I would ever experience. But Nessie—she proved those assumptions wrong, time and again. It was an honor to have raised her, and I knew Bella felt the same.
I held Bella’s hand and kissed her temple. “I’m sure she will, love. I’m sure she will.”
After a few moments, the song was over, and Nessie was saying her goodbyes to her friends. When she had made her way back to us, she cried, “My feet are killing me! Please never let me dance all night in heels ever again.”
Bella let out a short laugh. “It’s fine, baby. You can take off your shoes and your dad will carry you to the car.”
“Oh, bless!” she exclaimed. Bella laughed again. Nessie pulled off her heels, which Bella promptly carried for her, and our daughter let me lift her up in my arms. As we walked, Bella wrapped her arm around my waist. I glanced up at the night sky and saw the pale moon untrammeled by the usual gray clouds, bathing the high school parking lot in its ghostly light. It conjured up memories of a similar evening. Another prom night—Bella’s very first. I’d carried her in my arms just like this, and I remembered how desperate I’d been, how important it was for me that she did not miss her prom, in case her future children ever asked about it. I wanted to make sure she wouldn’t have an empty story for them because of me. And here we were, thirteen years later, with the miracle of our own child in my arms, Bella’s arm around me. Not even the sweetest of my dreams could compare to the reality we lived in now. I stared at Bella’s face, wondering if her thoughts had taken the same turn mine had. She pressed a hand to her throat, remembering how I’d kissed her there that night. We shared a secret smile.
When we reached the car, Bella opened the door to the backseat, and I sat Ness gently down in the middle, making sure her limbs were in comfortable positions. “Thanks, Dad,” she whispered, looking seconds away from succumbing to sleep. Bella got in beside her, and I sat in the driver’s seat to take us back home.
At moments like this, I still struggled to believe how I could have been given so much happiness, so much unadulterated joy that went beyond the ambit of anything I had ever dared to dream of for myself.
It felt like a reward I didn’t deserve. Maybe it was futile, looking for reasons when I knew I would get no answers. But in all my musings, the only conclusion I came to that made any kind of sense was that… it was because of Bella.
Because of Bella and her goodness, that rare kindness I saw only in her—she was why I was allowed all this happiness. And I was just the fool lucky enough to be in the range of her shining sun. Lucky enough to love her and be loved by her.
How could I ever tell her how grateful I was? Grateful that she could always see past the worst of me and my mistakes. Grateful that she had unlimited selflessness, giving us the family I’d envisioned for her, but thought impossible for me. Grateful that she was all too happy to be the first and only love of my existence. Grateful that cruel fate, after our various ordeals, had turned merciful to bring us to this heaven.
I looked back at them again, Nessie now sleeping soundly on Bella’s lap, and Bella absentmindedly twining her fingers through the mess of bronze curls fanned out on the soft fabric of her dress. “She’s dreaming,” Bella whispered. I could see Nessie’s hand on Bella’s arm, inadvertently letting Bella see the pictures she was swimming through in the land of her dreams.
I was sure that no words in any of the languages I knew could ever sufficiently reveal the feelings of peace and contentment that I felt, staring at them, the two halves of my heart, at ease in the backseat.
Bella caught me looking then, her golden eyes piercing through mine in the rearview mirror. She smiled, lowered her shields, and allowed me to hear one thought: I love you.
“I love you, too, Bella,” I whispered. I willed the past and the future that stretched out infinitely before us to give those words weight, seeming too simple and inadequate to convey the depth of what I felt.
No, I didn’t have the words that could tell Bella how grateful I was for her. For Renesmee. For our family. Perhaps I never would…. But that was fine. I had the rest of forever to try and find the words. Forever and forever and forever. I smiled and felt lighter than if my heart were not made of stone, and sped up the car to take us faster towards home.
#writing#twilight fanfiction#kellythepitiablefangirl#thethoughtsofafangirl#edwardsmidnight#magicandmyth#mafitheedwardhoe#← thanks once again to my friends for prereading this and giving me feedback u guys are the bestest#midnight sun still has me very 🥺🥺🥺 and this entire fic was just an exercise in reminding myself that e/b are living their best lives now
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You're arrogant and delusional you don't want to realize people see through your obvious bullshit, that grotesque sockupuppet account of yours queengoddessvalery is basically an X-Ray of you, same exact tone and behavior, same toxic stirring and pushing bullshit just using this pathetic character to self soothe and burn time. You're a sad unhinged mental case.
Self soothe... 😂😂😂
Dude, I use junk food and occasional masturbation to self soothe like a normal person.
You on the other hand seem to need baseless rants to get your fix. 🤦🏼♀️
May I suggest trying pizza?
Or masturbation.
Both valid options. 🤷🏼♀️
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mini rant; feel free to ignore...
I’ve been watching a lot of episode reactions to Julie and the Phantoms on YouTube and I’ve noticed that *most* of the reactors assume/believe that Bobby is Julie’s dad until they see episode 4. Why? I don’t get it!
Even if you completely ignore the fact that Ray (Julie’s dad) has an accent that Bobby definitely does not share, there are other contextual clues in episode 1 that dispute this.
1. When talking about cleaning out the studio, Ray tells Julie, “You’re the expert. Your brother and I wouldn’t even know where to start.”. This implies that he doesn’t know much about music/musical instruments. Bobby is a musician; he would know about that kind of stuff.
2. When Ray mentions the instruments and stuff that are in the loft of the studio, he’s like, “that stuff that was there when we moved in”, which implies he doesn’t know who it belonged to or how long it’s been there, just that it was already there when he bought the house. Then when he goes into the garage/studio and sees all the equipment set up, he doesn’t show any recognition of the Sunset Curve logo on the drumset, nor does he seem to recognize any of the equipment itself - which Bobby definitely would. Bobby would know exactly what all that stuff is and why/how it’s there. (And he most likely would not call it “junk”. Also... if he was trying to hide his past, why specifically ask Julie to clean it out for her to discover?)
3. Ray did not recognize the song that the boys were playing when Julie went to “turn off the stereo”. Do you really think Bobby wouldn’t recognize a Sunset Curve song?
4. None of the Phantoms thought that Ray looked even slightly familiar to them. Yes, it’s been 25 years, so Bobby would look different/older, but when you spend as much time around someone as the boys did with Bobby, (and to you it’s only been a few hours since you last saw him) you notice things. But there wasn’t even a hint of, “He looks so familiar. Where do I know him from?”
-
Watching the show for the very first time, it never even crossed my mind as a possibility that Julie’s dad could be Bobby. And then the first time I heard a reactor voice that theory, I was like, “Wait. What? Did you not just hear him imply that he doesn’t know anything about music; or that the instruments were already there when the family moved in? How does that even make sense?”
I don’t know... I just I needed to vent because I don’t understand why people jump to that conclusion.
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It’s “wanting to kiss Ben Schwartz on the mouth” hours in here tonight folks
#ben schwartz#ray rants and junk#guess who is touch starved and thirsting over another forty year old man again#space force#the afterparty#f tony#Yasper#Yasper lennov#netflix#appletv#personal
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Bruno Madrigal headcanon
When Isabella was little, she used to beg him to let her do his hair.
He used to flat-out say “absolutely not” until she would give him the big puppy-dog eyes and the “please tío?? Your hair is so pretty..” until he finally caved.
Next thing he knew, Mirabel and Isabella are braiding his hair and putting flowers and bows in it (Isabella’s side looks very artistic and pretty, and mirabel’s side is more.. experimental...)
#Bruno#Bruno Madrigal#guys I love this#my dad had long hair at one point when I was little and he had a whole bunch of nieces so this is semi-autobiographical#Bruno Madrigal headcanons#Bruno headcanons#encanto#disney#Madrigal#mirabel#mirabel Madrigal#isabella Madrigal#Isabella#sfw headcanons#ray rants and junk#bruno hcs
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For You: 4 O’Clock
Chapter 5: Shook
Taglist: @jineunwootrash
If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!
Lucas’s POV
I was betrayed.
On the plane, Kai was my friend. Or at least he acted like he was.
After Mom stormed off, and Baekhyun started whining about his hurt feelings, Kai gave me some gummies from his travel bag. Everyone knows fruit flavored snacks are the way into my heart.
Then he let me listen to music on his phone. Everyone knows I love listening to music.
Then we laughed at Mark when he fell on his way to the bathroom. Everyone knows I love laughing at Mark.
Life was good. I didn’t know that Kai was laying a trap that would spring the minute we were alone in the hotel room.
“Do you like Lei?” He asked after closing the door.
I hadn’t even changed into my SpongeBob pajamas, and I was already answering that old question. The answer never changed, but people kept asking. “No.”
I walked past him and belly-flopped onto my bed. The pillows were so soft, and I was so tired, I decided to take a nap without changing out of my jeans. I closed my eyes, started to drift off, and—
Kai jabbed me in the side with his index finger, and I flinched so hard that I banged my head against the wall.
“Cut it out in there!” Taeyong barked from his room. I heard him loud and clear. The walls must have been thin.
I shrieked, “Ow!” but Kai didn’t apologize. He was glaring at me, I realized while rubbing the swelling injury on the back of my head, because he thought I actually liked Lei.
Narrowing my eyes, I asked, “Why do you care?” I was kinda kidding when I asked, “Do you like Lei?”
“What?” Kai’s face darkened in anger, disgust, or both. “No!”
I gasped as I sat upright. “You do!” My jaw fell open. “Why else would you respond so passionately? You know what they say— there’s a fine line between hatred and love— and you’ve always hated Lei!”
He said, “I don’t hate Lei.”
And I was like, “Ooooooooh!”
He rolled his eyes and added, “I don’t love her either!” And when that didn’t shut me up, he asked, “Why were you all huddled up in the bathroom if you don’t like her?”
I bit my tongue. How much was I allowed to tell Kai? Obviously, I couldn’t have said any of that junk about Mom actually being the idol who never debuted. I couldn’t mention that stuff about Mom and Donghae’s fifteen years of “unrequited” (totally requited) love. Or else, Lei would probably kill me.
“We were just talking.”
I knew he probably wouldn’t accept that answer, and he would ask for details that I wouldn’t give. But my friendship with Lei wasn’t any of his business anyway, so I crossed my arms and didn’t say anything until Kai guessed, “Were you talking about her moment with Taemin in the garden?”
Nodding, I went with that. “Yep.”
“Great.” He threw his hands up in the air. “So they’re both hung up on it.”
I realized then that there was more to their late-night conversation than Lei told me before Mom barged in and jumped to totally perverted conclusions.
Lei probably wouldn’t have told me more even if we had all the time and privacy in the world. I wasn’t hurt exactly. Just jealous that Kai’s best friend had obviously told him more than mine told me.
I understood that Lei was all shy and secretive about boys. That was her right or whatever. But it sucked that she was secretive even with me— her best friend— as if I were a psycho “fan” or two-faced reporter.
Of course, I never pressed the issue. I didn’t want to make her more uncomfortable or defensive. Didn’t want to put more pressures or burdens on her shoulders. Didn’t really want to talk about kissing and feelings and all that with her because she was like my little sister, but still. She deserved someone to talk to. And I would’ve tried to be that person for her. But she never asked me, and I guess I kinda wished she would.
My head hurt from thinking so much.
“Oh.” I leaned against my headboard. “So Taemin’s talking about it too?” Because Kai was pouting, I pouted and hoped that he wouldn’t realize that I didn’t really know what it was.
“Yes!” Kai crashed onto his bed. “Apparently because she gave him some ribbon, and he gave her some rose, and they texted all night after staring at the moon, Taemin thinks they’re soulmates!”
I was shook.
Yeah, I overheard Taemin say that stuff about ribbons and soulmates when we went camping. And I liked to tease lei for her obvious crush on Taemin. But I honestly didn’t know there were real feelings there.
To tell you the truth, I felt like a big stinking pile of crap for joking about something that actually mattered to Taemin and Lei. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know. It didn’t matter that I didn’t get it. I was sorry.
“Well,” I shrugged, “maybe they are.”
Kai started ranting about how irresponsible it was for idols to date, how it could end badly for Taemin and Lei and everyone in the group. He probably thought I was zoning out because I was too dumb to get it or something. But that wasn’t why I blocked him out.
In my head, I knew that Kai was right about a lot of things. He knew more about the industry. In my heart, I knew that Taemin and Lei deserved to be happy. Maybe they could have been happy together, I thought. And, in my head and heart, I knew that Lei already understood everything Kai said.
If I knew Lei— and I promise I did— I knew she was laying in her bed trembling with anxiety. She was probably too stressed about unfair garbage that came with our job to feel happy that Taemin— her idol— and, more importantly, a good person— recognized that she was a ray of sunlight even if she didn’t feel like one.
Kai wasn’t trying to be a jerk or a party pooper or anything. Maybe I should have listened to him. But I decided as I laid there smiling because I could just feel that Lei was going to end up in love with Taemin— TAEMIN— that I wouldn’t bother her with all those real-world worries. I would nudge her toward happiness any way I could, every chance I got.
So I was excited when Lei knocked on my door at daybreak. I was so excited to report that Kai said Taemin liked her that I opened the door wearing nothing but my SpongeBob pajama pants. In hindsight, I guess I understand why we had so many dating rumors. Oops.
“Dude, Lei!” I cheered. Then, I noticed she was upset. In the face, she looked like a sad toddler, and her hair looked like a bird’s nest. “You look like a mess.” I pulled her into the room and tried to smooth her hair.
It was hopeless. I can’t say this enough: she looked terrible.
She moped, “That’s good because I feel like a mess.”
I expected her to scold me when she saw I wasn’t wearing a shirt, but she didn’t. She just said, “It’s really hot in your room. Mine is freezing.”
“Well,” I sincerely suggested, “why don’t you get Taemin to hold you? I’m sure you’d only have to ask once, and—”
Lei wheezed, “I can’t stay in a room with Taemin. That’s why I came to find you. We have to swap roommates or something.”
Oh. I knew Lei was modest, but I kinda expected her to be thrilled to share a room with Taemin. Had something happened? Did love always end so soon? Was Kai right— were things already ending badly? Before our first concert?
“I don’t know what you want me to do.” I scratched my neck helplessly. “We’re not even supposed to be talking right now, and—”
From his bed, Kai groaned, “What’s going on over there?”
Lei ushered me closer to the door— further from Kai— as she whispered, “We’re gonna have to ask Kai to swap. Or I’ll go sleep in the van. Or maybe Mark—”
“Lei, chill out for a second.” I grabbed her arms to assure her that everything was okay. There was no reason to talk so fast or resort to sleeping in a car or in a room with Mark. “What happened? Did Taemin do something or—”
“I didn’t get any sleep, and I don’t understand why I couldn’t fall asleep when he did. I just laid there, freezing, and I thought about him, and I felt so sad for no reason, and—”
Thank God somebody knocked on the door and interrupted Lei’s monologue. I didn’t even know where to start unpacking it, and I realized I wouldn’t have to when Taemin’s voice came through the door.
“Jongin! Lei’s missing, and—”
When Taemin first tried to open the door, I panicked because Lei still looked like a wreck. I screamed. My scream made Lei scream. And Lei’s scream made Taemin scream and slam the door on his foot. I think it would have been pretty funny if I wasn’t too busy trying (and failing) to fix Lei’s hair to laugh.
The second time Taemin opened the door, Lei and I yelled, “Don’t look!” I grabbed the hat I wore on the plane and forced it over her bushy hair, she positioned herself to cover my exposed chest, and Taemin dropped his jaw as he looked at us with wide eyes.
This time, I instantly knew how bad Lei and I looked together.
Maybe he wouldn’t admit it— or maybe he would if he liked Lei half as much as Kai feared— but I knew Taemin was gnawing on his lips like that because he was jealous. Jealous and hurt.
I pushed Lei off of me, and Taemin quietly beckoned her into the hall.
Even though nothing happened, I felt bad about the misunderstanding. Still, I didn’t doubt that they would work things out when Lei followed Taemin into the hall.
Things always work out for people who are meant to be together.
#superm au#superm social media au#superm fic#superm fanfic#superm imagine#superm imagines#superm scenario#superm scenarios#taemin au#taemin social media au#taemin fanfic#taemin fic#taemin imagines#taemin scenarios#shinee au#shinee social media au#shinee fic#shinee fanfic#super junior au#super junior social media au#nct au#nct social media au#wayv au#wayv social media au#exo au#exo social media au#kpop au#kpop social media au#exo texts#nct texts
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Need Some TLC Chapter 5: Groceries
SUMMARY: Steve and Bucky decide to step in for your health and a third conspirator joins the ranks
WARNINGS:None
Masterlist // Previous // Next
You stood looking at your front door for a moment or two before smiling and shaking you head. Glancing around, you noticed that your kitchen was clean, but the living room needed tidying up and the bathroom, your bedroom and laundry needed finished. "No time like the present." You muttered to yourself, deciding the living room would be a good start and quickest, you got to work. You straightened the throw blankets and small pillows and cushions. the knick-knacks were organized and DVD's were put away, in their proper cases. you bagged up all the trash and recycling and moved on to the next room.
Laundry was started once more, the bathroom scrubbed and you changed your sheets in your room. You cleaned up the dirty clothes in your room, both you not scrub hamper and scrub hamper, and gathered the old dishes and long-dismissed wrappers and protein shake bottles. You put away all the laundry in your clean laundry basket and dusted your hands off. "Done! That's it!" You cheered to yourself. You transferred laundry once more and got a few things ready for work and meals for the next few days. The clock read 8:00 PM. You had near 20 hours until you had to go back to work again, and your apartment was clean and safe and welcoming again, not the pigsty it was hours ago.
'Watch a movie? or Settle in early?' You thought to yourself. As you looked between your TV and bedroom door a buzz in your pocket distracted you.
'You still up for a pizza and a documentary? We don't want to impose.' The text was sent by a known contact with the name "Bucky". You changed it to Sgt. Barnes. You thought about it and after everything that had happened today, the walls that had come down and the fire and finally being off, you realized you wanted company. 'Yeah, I can go to bed once we are done. Won't be too much later than usual.' You thought.
'Yeah. Come on over! Both of you, you have a key.' You texted him back.
"I nor Steve would abuse this privilege. We won't use our keys willy-nilly."Sargent Barnes replied.
'I only meant that you could let yourselves in. I know you won't abuse it. Jeez, didn't mean to offend your delicate sensibilities.' You send your message with a few smiles to not offend.
'I will be no more offended than you when I tell you that we already have pizza and am currently trying to get into your apartment.' He replied.
'Confident?' you texted back.
"Yeah, a little. Can we watch and ocean documentary? With Attenborough? Please?" Sargent Barnes asked pushing his way through the door, keys slipping into his pocket.
"Yeah, I have a Blue Planet on Blu-Ray and with my TV it is almost like being there. Where did you learn to text? Not to bad Sargent." You sassed at him grabbing plates and cups on the counter, Sargent Barnes brought over the pizza while Captain Rogers looked for Blue Planet in your expansive collection.
I love this documentary. I just turned it on this morning when I got home to listen to, but I fell asleep too quick. Also after dinner cause it late-ish and I want to get a good night's rest, I am going to take my sleep aides. Just some melatonin. I want to be ready for my next stretch." You told the men in your living room. Captain Rogers and Sargent Barnes looked at you, brows furrowed and lips pursed.
"More meds? Is that a good idea?" Captain Rogers paused loading the first disc.
"Melatonin is naturally produced, I am only boosting my supply a little bit. The Advil will help with the sore legs and back I am sure to get. I want to relax cause I have some aide shifts coming up. I always hurt more after aide shifts." The three of you settled with your pizza and drinks.
"Aide work? What is that?" Sargent Barnes asked.
"Yeah, I am a registered nurse. But my job includes helping the aides-or rather patient care techs as they are called now-but sometimes there are not enough aides scheduled for a shift, usually the evening shift, and I will fill in. Aides or PCT's help with the activities of daily living, toileting and dressing and rehab and bandage changing and the like. I personally like doing both jobs cause it makes me appreciate what they do more and help connect with my patients on a deeper level." You explained. Not many nurses shared you opinion, thinking aides and PCT's were below them, they didn't realize that many programs and curriculums required clinical hours before and during the programs to be accepted. Most aides and PCT's were nurses-in-training.
"Oh. So with the short-staffing you really have to do everything huh? That is insane." Captain Rogers' awe was heard in his tone.
"Nope, When I go in for a nursing shift, I have 26 Patients and my 2-5 aides can have 13-15 patients. Also it builds up aide/nurse loyalty and report. You all know what each others knows and needs to keep track off and become a better team for it, give better care for it. It makes me better and them better." You were firm in your opinion, eyes lit with a determination and fire the men did not often see. They could tell this is a fight you have fought before.
"Does not everyone agree with you? That all makes prefect sense to me and Steve. Why would people not agree?" Bucky asked, hesitant.
"NO! They don't. I have too many aides and nurses come through my unit with this...this...chip on their shoulder. Like they are owed something for picking this job. We all work shitty hours and weekends and holidays. We all miss birthdays and parties and recitals. No one is missed for that, especially in healthcare. I don't get how you can go through schooling and testing and lectures and labs and still come out of this expecting something that you won't get. How can you start this career without knowing what you are getting into? Or staying in this field knowing what it is? You are to help people, They don't want to be here any more than you do. I'm sorry, we get paid well but not that well that the money can overcome the cancelled dates and missed appointments." You were ranting wildly, hands waving and hair flying. Bucky and Steve were in total agreement. They did share a look of confusion and empathy, they were unware of your temper that was hidden under all the pleasantness. You noticed and calmed down significantly. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I was ranting. You can start the show. if you need anything, help yourself." You shimmied down deeper into the couch, eyes blinking blearily at the TV.
"No! it is fine. I like seeing you open up to us. You are in the right. We get it too, not like we have great hours either." Captain Rogers said. You blinked at him and smiled. "If you fall asleep we'll close up for you. Okay?" He said it like a question but you knew it was a statement. The men turned their focus to the documentary and knew that for now, you had lost their attention.
You only paid half attention to the program. The warmth of your blanket and apartment, the relief in having it clean and the silent company of people in a shared space lulled you quickly to a fugue state. Partially formed thoughts swept across your mind but disappeared before they fully formed. Thoughts about your schedule and patients; should you make more meals? The fear of a missed alarm pulled you to awareness enough to check you phone.
Minutes passed. The episode ended. Another one started. You still stare unseeingly into the TV, blinks and breaths slowing and lengthening. The calm narration and soft spoken comments from your friends easing your muscles even more.
You fall asleep between one breath and the next, succumbing to you body's demands with one last thought about packing a lunch for tomorrow.
"Bucky looked over to see you curled up on the couch, quiet and still-pardon your rhythmic breathing. "She's asleep. Finally. I am going to put her to bed in a little bit. She needs to sleep. I looked in her fridge, she didn't have much. What little bit she had, she probably meal-prepped it. She neglects herself too much." Bucky said. He was so worried, over the time of knowing them they'd seen your weight drop and skin pale.
"I don't know. We could order some groceries. Have them delivered using Tony's service? I can handle him afterwards. You can cook like a pro, we can freeze it and meal prep for her." Steve suggested. He saw Bucky's hesitance. He shook his head and sighed. "Buck. Please do it. I know for certain she wants someone who will take care of her, and you want someone to take care of. She has been alone too long. You can change that. I will handle Tony. I told you earlier, do something, do anything. This is both." Steve continued.
Bucky smirked knowingly. "You'll handle Tony alright. You tell me to move but you freeze every time he comes near you." Bucky lost his smirk. "I guess this is something I can do for her." Bucky picked up his phone and put a call into the grocery service that stocked the Avengers' Tower and Compound and their private places. They took calls at all times to accommodate their unusual clients. He ordered tons of meats and veggies, pasta, dairy products, deli things, and junk foods too. He ordered and ordered and ordered. He wanted enough to make enough food for three meals and two snacks for two weeks. He also ordered plastic containers for all the meals and freezer. He billed Tony and gave the address for Your apartment.
"They said in an hour, they pulled everyone together that was available to make it happen so quickly. I am going to put her to bed that way she doesn't wake up. Then we are going to make her food. and a lot of it. Hopefully it will last for two weeks if not it should be a good start." Bucky addressed Steve but was looking at you. Eyes lightly brushed over your figure worried his gaze would wake you.
"Very well. Let's finish what we started. Go, take your girl to bed." Steve waved his hand in the direction of your room, seeing Buck blush out off the corner of his eye.
Bucky didn't-couldn't-answer to busy trying gently to pick you up and carry you to bed. He maneuvered the corners careful to not bump your head or feet. You didn't even twitch as he laid you on your bed under the covers, glad you already seemed to be in pajamas.
Upon returning to the living room Bucky saw Steve hunched over his phone shoulders tense and cheeks pink. Bucky rolled his eyes in silence, for all his advice Steve was just as nervous when it came to one Anthony Edward Stark-Iron Man. "Make a move, punk. Any move. Isn't that what you told me?" Bucky commented from the other end of the couch. Steve refused to give Bucky the satisfaction of seeing him flinch.
"I always give good advice, but very seldom follow it. I can't make a move on Tony. That is ridiculous. I will admire from afar, that's all I am allowed this time. Besides Tony isn't impressed by me in any sense." Steve was matter-of-fact in his words, a weariness hung around his shoulders.
"Then you are dumber than advertised. Tony is in love with you as you are in love with him. Just do something." With that Bucky left Steve to stew and played the documentary once more. Bucky watched and Steve split his attention between the TV and his phone for the next 45 minutes.
When a light knock sounded on the newly replaced door, Bucky and Steve went on alert. They silently paced to the door, avoided casting a shadow underneath. Bucky pulled a knife from his boot and Steve shook his hands before clenching them into fists. Anyone who wanted to get through to you would have to go through them.
"Delivery for Stark? Grocery delivery." Bucky looked at Steve and shrugged. They could take anyone. Bucky opened the door for the three men that had dollies full of groceries. And Tony Stark.
"Tony? What are you doing here?" Bucky asked while he and Steve moved to help unload the bags. After the dollies were emptied twice each then men bid their goodbyes and left.
"Well you did just bill me almost 500 dollars worth of groceries not 3 days after your last order. Steve told me it was for a friend, and I became intrigued." Tony spoke to Bucky but his eye kept flicking to Steve every other word.
"Her name is Y/N. She is a nurse. Lately she has been putting in too many hours. She is...amazing. She checks in and bakes for us sometimes. She constantly is working on bringing us up to date." Steve said, soft and fond. "We spend a lot of time with her when we are home. She understands what we do and likes us in spite of that. She is family." Tony froze upon hearing Steve talk about you so warmly. The fondness he had for you froze Tony's breath in his chest. He saw the ease in which Bucky and Steve moved through your apartment, Tony almost flinched but withheld. Bucky saw the hopelessness on his face and stepped closer.
"Tony. No. Please." Bucky murmured in his ear. Speaking louder he continued. "Y/N came home today and we hear her talking through the wall about sleep aides and next thing we know the fire alarm is going off and we had to break down her door cause she was sleeping through it. After fixing it and making lunch and her napping, I was griping at Steve who was teasing me, so I ordered this to help her. I wanted to take care of her, cause she doesn't take care of herself." Bucky had seen the thoughts forming in Tony's mind that you were Steve's girl leaving no room for Tony in Steve's heart. Bucky knew those thoughts had to be derailed instantly.
"Yeah, she is our only non-Avenger friend. She is alone and needed someone in her life. Today proved that. I am just glad we were home. I worry about her day and night. She works too much and to the point of illness. I gave her a key today so she had a place to go since she denied having F.R.I.D.A.Y. installed in here. It was the only way she would accept help, she refuses to burden others with her needs." Bucky continued. He could tell as Tony's shoulder relaxed and smiled softened he was successful in his mission.
Steve and Bucky moved about this stranger's apartment like they lived there themselves. Steve was putting groceries away as Bucky began to trim chicken to be frozen. It was strange, seeing these two giant men creep around your things to not disturb you, trying to do what they could to help what little family they had. "Steve can you grab the skillet? and grill pan? I will cook up some burgers and chicken and freeze them to be quicker meals." Bucky asked.
"Here and here. I am working on scalloped potatoes, they should freeze well. I will work on some salad mixes too. We can vacuum seal them to keep longer." Steve said, handing over the pans while looking for the peeler. Tony felt out of the loop but wanted to help this person who had helped his people.
"Does she have a steamer? I can help with steaming some veggies. We can make and freeze whole meals." Tony offered. Bucky looked up and smiled, thankfulness shining in his eyes. Bucky nodded and jerked his chin to a pantry. Tony went and set it up and began cleaning fruit and veggies. "I can make some fruit salad, won't keep well but I can make a small batch. We would look at high protein meals with low carbs and sugar. She is a nurse? She needed long term energy. We can freeze some fruit like pineapple and blueberries and grapes. They taste good frozen. she can snack on them too." Tony suggested. Bucky nodded emphatically. "You are right, Tony, snack are a great idea." Bucky's tension seemed to lessen with Tony's participation.
Tony picked up his phone and made a quick call, putting it down quickly. "I just called in another rush order. If we are going to do this, then we will do this right." Tony started working on cauliflower and broccoli.
"Tony, no. This isn't necessa-" Bucky started. Tony cut him off before he could finish "If she is your family, she is mine. I am more than glad to help." Bucky other took a quick breath and sent a small smile Tony's way. "Quick, we need to keep moving. I want this done before she wakes up." Bucky said.
The three men did just that. Bucky cooked chicken, burger, steak, pork, sausage. He froze it raw and froze it cooked. Bucky dated and labeled everything, even using up what little was in your freezer already. Steve made several casseroles to be frozen and labeled. Tony made his veggies and fruits and snacks and divided them up for easy access. He did freeze some bags with directions for smoothies, for the days when food would be too much effort. They also kept some food in the fridge for easy grab and go for the next five days, hopefully they made enough food for her.
"Thank you both. I am glad she will wake up to see that this was done for her. She may just come to understand that she is cared for. Let's clean up and then we can hit the hay." He clapped Steve on his back and pulled Tony in for a hug. "Thank you especially Tony. For everything. Oh, and, remember he has loved and lost one already." Bucky pulled away, nothing on his face giving away what he had shared. Bucky looked around and saw your lunchbox and packed a well-balanced lunch and then some before scrawling a quick note and putting it on the fridge. 'We did as you asked and made ourselves at home. Steve, Tony and I took care of lunches for you and groceries. Everything is dated and labeled. If you have questions, call me. See you soon. ~xo Bucky.'
He then helped clean up their mess and shooed Steve and Tony out the door. Bucky made one last lap to ensure everything was off, cleaned and put away. He walked down towards your room and paused, fingers brushing the doorknob. "Go in, chicken." Bucky demanded himself. He crept in and watched you sleep for a small moment. Gathering his courage, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and again on your forehead. "Good night, my darling. Rest well." He whispered against your skin. He left your room. He left your apartment. He used his key to double check the lock.
Bucky headed to his room and laid down, ignoring Tony and Steve's smug looks. Bucky listened to you faint breathing as he relaxed. Minutes later he was asleep.
Masterlist // Previous // Next
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Okay! That is the last update I have ready. Now, I actually have to type everything out. This is going to be fun! I have a Criminal Minds fic that I also have to post on here but should I have it typed out? It is awfully long...I will ruminate on this. Thanks for the support!
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#protective Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes x nurse! reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x medical! reader#Steve Rogers#bucky barnes#steve rogers x tony stark#steve rogers fanfiction#Stony#avengers family#domestic avengers#saundraswriting#saundrasays#Need Some TLC fic
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