#motherreader

Character: Dean Winchester

Warning: None

Word Count: 830

A/N: I started this over Winter break when I got obsessed with Dexter so there’s a couple of Dexter references in this one.

Story

   “Where am I looking?” Sam asks.

   “Over there, on the end.” Dean points to three bassinets on the right side of the window. “Astor, Cody, and Grayson. One girl, two boys, and a million diapers in the last twelve hours. I am exhausted.”

   “Didn’t they spend the night in the nursery?”

   “The absence of bi-hourly wailing did nothing to help me sleep. I was up all night checking on them, raiding vending machines, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do with triplets – (y/n), on the other hand, crashed as soon as they were out of the room.”

   “She deserves it.” Sam sighs, smiles, gazes at his newborn niece and nephews, and rolls his shoulders. “I’m gonna grab a coffee from the cafeteria. You want anything?”

   “Strongest thing they’ve got.”

   “Got it. Congratulations.” Sam claps his brother on the shoulder. “And good luck.”

*    *    *    *    *

   Even after nine months of a regular, healthy sleep cycle, twelve hours feels like an indulgence. Not that you didn’t earn it because you definitely did. Actually, you thought you’d sleep much longer, but here you are waking up to the sun shining through the windows of your hospital room, a little sore but surprisingly refreshed. Habitually, you search the room for Dean, and you find him halfway reclined on the bulky vinyl chair that sits diagonally from your bed. On his chest rests one of your three babies, and the other two each occupy a nest-like dip between his arms and torso. They sleep soundly with the exception of Dean.

   “Having fun?” you ask quietly.

   “I’m scared to move,” he murmurs. “I’m not sure I can.”

   “How’d you get like that?”

   “I don’t really know. One of them got fussy, so of course the other two started up, and I was all by myself, and the next thing I know I’ve got them all on top of me, but they’re quiet so keep your damn voice down.”

   You’re willing to just stop talking completely to remove the risk of waking them, but it’s Dean who starts talking again, and he asks, “What do we do now?”

   “I dunno. Pray, caffeinate, buy a highly efficient diaper-making machine. Maybe there’s an advice blog for this particular situation. How in the world did we end up with triplets?”

   “Your body was having a ‘going out of business’ sale.”

   “So it’s myfault?”

   “You are the one who said we should have a baby.”

   “Youagreed.”

   “I agreed to ababy. As in one.”

   “Well, I just love you so much I decided to give you three.”

   “As long as you gave ‘em my looks.”

   “Are you joking? I gave them mine.”

   “Eh. They’re probably better off that way.” Dean takes a deep breath. When he notices the sleeping baby on his chest do the same, he smiles. As if they’ve been given a cue, the other two yawn one after the other, but then the one on the left – either Cody or Grayson judging by the blue blanket – lets out a whimper. You tense, and so does Dean, worried that he’ll get louder and wake the others, but he just opens his eyes stretches an arm. Everyone relaxes when he settles again. “What in the world are we supposed to do with triplets, (y/n)?”

   “I have no freakin’ idea.”

   “Maybe we shouldn’t have had them. If we hadn’t tried in the first place, they wouldn’t-”

   “Shh, before you wake them all up.”

   Dean bites his lip, watching his son grasp at the air. “They deserve a fair chance. I don’t see how we’re supposed to give them that.”

   “You wanna know what I see?” Rolling onto your side, you tuck your arm under your pillow. “I see my loving husband and the three beautiful babies he gave me. I see a mountain of diapers and spit-up-stained shirts ahead of us, and I see how you’re gonna light up when they all come running to see you when you walk in the door.”

   “Would you happen to see a ‘Dummies Guide to Parenthood’?”

   “I see a sign that says, ‘good luck’.”

   “That’s good enough, I guess. Maybe their dork uncle can find us some legit help books.”

   You chuckle. “We’ll have to ask.” Slowly and feeling every hour of labor and then not moving for another half a day, you get out of bed, shuffle over to chair and kneel down beside it. You rest your head near Dean’s right arm, next to Astor, and gently stroke your daughter’s cheek as she sleeps. The boy on Dean’s chest sleeps peacefully, the one on his left arm stares upwards with his mouth hanging open, and though you can’t tell them apart, you’re too happy to be embarrassed. Knowing the man you married, they’ll soon have individual knitted hats with their names embroidered across the front.

   Dean sighs, and then he grins.

   “What?” you ask.

   “Nothing. I just hope you realized you’re outnumbered two times over now.”

You’re my Medicine for melancholy

Summary: Peter’s ever growing resentment, her need to make things right, Tony’s everlasting judgment, and Eddie’s hope for a second chance, and his needs for just one chance. 15 years goes by fast; but with unfortunate circumstances and wayward absences…the heart does not always grow fonder.

Chapter 1

Angsty as all hell

Warnings for full series: dysfunctional family, character death, talks of teen pregnancy, single mother, connon typical violence, alcohol amd drug (weed) use, mention of sexual acts but no smut, parents forcing child out home, rehabilitation centers and military services, trying to make amends with estranged family members, maybe some inaccuracies about everything I just listened.

Disclaimer: This is my first time writing fanfiction in over 15 years lol so am sorry if this just plain sucks. Also am on mobile and I can figure out out how to add “read more”, sorry. Its a reader insert,but is written in first person, am going to tey to by as inclusive as pos3for anyone can read it, but the reader is a cis female she/her because for the plot of story. And I still dont know whom she is going to end up with in the end lol this fic is 18+ because of the warnings above.

Your media consumption is your responsibility. I have no way to verify your real age other then the trust and respect that if you are 18 tou will not read, but you have been warn about what the context of this story will contain.

I never thought I would end up back here…well so soon that is. After what happened with Eddie in high school, dad dying, my self destructive spiral down, the fight with mom….

I shook my head causing my (hair length)(hair color) hair to been even mored messed up. The winds are high today, almost as if they’re pushing me to go back to the base and reconsider my retirement.

If I kept over thinking and listing all of the events that lead up to this moment I would be gone another 15 years.

Rubbing my calloused fingers on my temple the fell of my (hair type) hair tickling the tips. It has become of habit of being overly aware of my body. My therapist said it was sensory thing. But this anxiety headache just will not go away.

But standing here outside the JFK airport in the autumn chill is not getting me anywhere. I could make the miles long walk to the house. It would give time to practice what I would say. Maybe time to back out? No, I have to do this! Its time.

Deciding on taking an Uber, it will get me there faster, which is not what I want but I wont be dragging my luggage with me through Queens. I was Gripping my (favorite color) phone so tight my knuckle were turning off color.

*

The ride felt shorter then I anticipated.

Standing in front of the red door for the first time in 15 years felt like a fever dream. 15 years have lead up to this moment and I pray it is last moment I have to come back because I want it to be the first moment I stay.

Closing my tried (eye color) eyes I take a deep shaky breath in, count to three, let a shaky breath out. I rise my first and lightly knock on the door.

The next few seconds felt like the longest moments in my life.

When she open the door she looked as beautiful as ever. It wasn’t the Hallmark movie reunion people would expect. Hell of no fury like a woman scorned, right?

“Hi, mom” I say, my voice betraying me as it cracked. Right now I feel like that scared 14 year girl again, and I just need a hug from my mom.

She lets out an exhausted sigh as she says my name in why that makes me my heart drop to my stomach. The look of -I told you so- mixed with the smallest amounts of pride and relief.

She steps aside to let me in. It looks the same as it did all those years ago. Looking around I see all the photos on the wall of him growing up…with out me. Probably for the best though. Still doesn’t hurt any less. Dad’s earn is still on the shelf where it always has been.

I was back in that fever dream as I walked further into the house. The living room still had the ugly brown rug in it.

The shutting of the door was louder then I remember, the nose bringing me back to reality.

“Am glad you made it here safe” she took a poignant pause. “That you’re safe…” stopping before she could finish her thought. A thought her and I both didn’t want to have. Being overseas and almost not coming back in piece.

“Yea…me too” I add softly.

The silence was deafening.

Taking up whatever courage I had left; fighting in this god forsaken war seemed easy but talking to my mother not so much.

“Is he here?” I ask.

Mom started to open her mouth but the front door opened. My breath got cought in my lungs, my knees locked, and my heart speed up so fast I thought it was to explode.

With each one of his foot steps I heard, my fear would creep further up my spine.

“Hey Anut May I need to go with Mr. Stark this weekend to…..” his voice dead with his question when he walked into the living room and saw me standing there, in his home, his safe place.

“H..H…Hi Peter.” I stuttered, trying to keep my tears in.

Shock was a understatement for the look on his face.

“Mom?” Distained was evident in his entire body, face, and voice.