eunoia009

[eunoia009]

Chapter 3 of When You Need Me is now out and available to read on my primary account!

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝗼𝐮 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐞

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ: ᴛʜᴇ sᴏᴜᴘ ᴀɪsʟᴇ

tw: mild stalking/catcalling

"I just don't know how you do it," You told John, stunned as he sat on your sofa with your now completely calm baby in his arms. "She never quiets down that fast."

"Can't say I know either," John shrugged, keeping his voice low to not alert the infant. Grace was a cute little thing, despite the loudspeakers she called lungs. Soft, wispy hair across her small head, and big eyes that looked so innocently bewildered by everything around her.

"It ain't easy bein' up on your feet all day like that, I know." He sympathized, nodding towards you. "You should sit."

"No, I... I couldn't." You sighed.

"Why?"

"I'm not used to letting people hold her, I just... wouldn't be able to relax." You explained sheepishly. John noted how your eyes never seemed to leave the baby's vicinity, and how anxious you got as he held her despite just sitting there with her. He had never been a parent, per se, but he did know a thing or two about fathering a few grown-ass men. He understood the worry, knowing they're away from you and you can't do anything to protect them.

"She's safe with me," John said, to which you gave a small smile that he perceived as an accomplishment. "I've got an iron grip, promise." He added.

"Thank you," You whispered, feeling the ache in your arms and legs start to weigh on you. Holding a baby every hour of every day gave birth to numerous physical pains you just couldn't shake or alleviate.

"Now have a seat." He said gently, keeping his voice ever so slightly firm to communicate that there was no arguing with him on this topic. You obeyed, seating yourself on the sofa across from him. Right as you sunk into the cushion, you felt an overwhelming grogginess take over your mind, like your brain was slightly heavier than a few moments ago, weighing down with the urge to rest it. The next thing you knew, you were shifting yourself onto your side and dozing off.

As you drifted into a deep slumber just across the room, John found himself in an unexpectedly awkward position. Here he was, cradling a woman's baby in his arms—not entirely opposed to the idea, surprisingly. The little girl was adorable, her tiny features softened by the warm glow of the lamp beside him. She cooed softly, content and serene when her needs were met. Maybe she was like her mother in that sense. It was a quiet moment suspended in time, where the weight of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the gentle rise and fall of the baby's breath.

At first, he intended on sitting like this for thirty minutes or so, but you just seemed so relaxed now that you were finally resting. He got a little caught up in the tranquil experience of holding an infant, and for one of the first times in his life, he let himself bask in that feeling.

-=+☆+=-

A bright light in your face was what woke you, making you slowly stir and crack your eyes open to peek at the world around you. The sun was peeking through the curtains of your living room window and... Wait.

The sun? Why hadn't he woken you up?!

You sprang upwards on the couch, looking around frantically as you stood up, seeing no sign of John, the man you so trustingly let hold your baby. You'd find him later, but for now, where was Grace? There's no way you just let your baby be kidnapped. The panic swarmed in your heart, feelings only described as a mother's, your quick footsteps leading you to your bedroom where you also kept the crib.

Inside, to your instant consolation, was Grace. She was clumsily swaddled and sleeping, with not a bruise or scratch to be seen on her soft skin. The sigh you let out was heavy, to say the least. Nearby, a note was placed on the edge of the crib. Upon closer inspection, it was written on with nice handwriting.

"Changed, fed, and poorly swaddled." The note read, eliciting a small snort from your lips. "Call me when you need me again."

The initials 'J.P.' were scrawled out on the bottom of the page along with a phone number, and you felt the swarming panic fade in your heart, a strange sensation of warmth spreading throughout you instead. What was this? What was he trying to accomplish by helping you so greatly, and what did he mean by 'when you need me'? You huffed. A little full of himself after one night of babysitting, it seems.

It was a nice sentiment, nevertheless, to know that you had made a friend. It made you feel not so alone, not so isolated when caring for your baby girl. The amount of time you spent indoors was making you crazy, but at least you were aware of the presence of another through the wall, a person who was silently cheering you on through motherhood.

With a content sigh, you walked back to the kitchen to find something to eat before Grace woke up. She was out cold, which seldom happened. John must have been a miracle worker because the baby was obsessed with him, it seemed.

A short stride brought you to the cluttered kitchen, where you looked through the pantry for a granola bar or a Lance cracker pack. Not much luck, unfortunately, and you certainly didn't have the energy to make an actual breakfast, so that meant a good old trip to the store. With a baby. Jesus.

The car ride hadn't been all that bad, but it was easy to tell that Grace was not in the mood to have been woken up. She made a few little fussy sounds as you pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store, and she continued to do so as you picked her up. It wasn't going to be a very easy trip, you knew that much. Grace was a sensitive baby, with a strong dislike for light and noise. You usually kept the nursery dim and quiet because of it. A bustling grocery store combined with fluorescent lights and the occasional crackle of the intercom was just enough to piss her off, and that's surely just what you needed this morning.

As you kept the girl occupied with a rattle, you glanced down at the paper you had scribbled a small list of essentials on. A few feminine hygiene products, some fruit, diapers, and soup cans, among other things. You'd already found a couple of items already and were currently looking for the soup cans you had eaten religiously since becoming a mom. It was comfort food, warm broth and noodles. Grace's coo snapped you out of your thoughts of food.

"What's the matter?" You said softly with a smile, waving your finger in front of her face and letting her grab at it with happy babbles. "I'm kinda busy, y'know."

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the stacked soup cans on the shelf, just where they always were. You grabbed a couple, thinking four was enough, but you knew damn well you went through these things like rations nowadays. You cooed to Grace a little longer, but not before accidentally nudging a few cans off of the shelf with your elbow.

"Shit," You muttered, blinking and looking over at the baby, pointing at her. "Don't repeat that." You instructed although you knew she wouldn't repeat that. The little thing was barely conscious, but it was nice to talk to her. You'd caught yourself talking to her a lot lately, but it was to be expected. It was you and her against the world.

You knelt to pick up the cans, grumbling to yourself about being a klutz. One peek upwards and you were met with the sight of a figure standing at your cart. You stood back up, eyeing the stranger while you placed the cans back on the shelf. It was a man, someone you didn't know, just... staring at Grace. Weirdo, you thought to yourself, immediately getting a bad gut feeling. You quickly stepped forward and grabbed the handle of your cart, subtly pulling it towards yourself and giving the man a polite smile.

"Sorry, am I in your way?" You asked, to which he simply grunted and shook his head no. You took the opportunity to study him. White, dark hair and eyes, all black clothing, and a bizarre look in his eye. A contemplative look, as if he were deciding something. You nodded to him and pushed past with your cart. What was this dude's problem, eyeing your baby like that? He wasn't even trying to act like he wasn't.

-=+☆+=-

The shopping trip stretched on longer than you thought it would, seeing as it was almost noon now. Grace was getting irritable, evident from her little huffs and fidgets, so you figured it was time to leave before the store got an earful. As you wheeled the cart to the checkout line and greeted the cashier, you took the opportunity to awkwardly look around. Checkouts were always a little nerve-wracking, so you found it was better to just look anywhere else but there. When you turned your gaze to the entrance of the store, you spotted him.

It was the same guy from the soup aisle, there was no mistaking it. He was watching you, standing outside menacingly in the darkness, and barely illuminated by the neon glow of the store signs. After meeting his gaze, he quickly looked away, but you weren't stupid. He was waiting for you, and that was terrifying. What do you even do in this situation? He was obviously tailing you, but the police weren't going to do anything since he hadn't done anything either. Yet.

There was no room for stupid decisions, not when you had Grace with you. You had to go about this wisely, but how? Do you leave the store? No, that was most likely the worst possible thing you could do right now. Do you tell the cashier? Maybe, but there wasn't much they could do about this, either. Do you call someone? Possibly. But who?

And then the lightbulb flicked on, and you quickly fished your phone out of your pocket. John wrote his number on the note he left, and you took a picture of it! You'd kiss your past self if you could. You copied his number into the keypad and held the phone up to your ear.

Ring... ring... ring... Click.

"Hello?" The familiar voice said. The relief was palpable in your own.

"Hey. This is John, right?" You said, praying he didn't give you a fake number when he left that note. It was doubtful considering you could just go to the next door over and kick it down, but you had to make sure nonetheless.

"Yep," John affirmed. "Do you need help with Grace?"

"Uh... you could say that." You mumbled, eyeing the man outside the store until a tap on the arm made you jump.

"Ma'am, please, there's a line." The cashier deadpanned.

"Right. Sorry. Um, one sec, John," You said, holding your phone between your cheek and your shoulder as you removed your card and gathered your bags, wheeling your cart off to the side and sitting on a bench, but making sure you didn't leave the store. There's no way you were doing that. “Sorry, I’m back.”

"Are you home right now?" John inquired.

"No." You sighed. "Y'know that store near the complex? I come here for groceries a lot, but... anyway, that's not the point. I think I'm being followed."

"Followed?" He replied, the (unpleasant) surprise evident in his voice. "What makes you say that?"

"Actually, I don't think I am, I know I am," You corrected, starting to ramble through your nerves. "I met this guy earlier while I was shopping, and now he's just... standing outside. Staring. I'm sorry if I'm bothering you but I didn't know who else to call and I'm kinda freaking out-"

"Luv, hold on," John interjected. "So he met you earlier, and now he's outside."

"Yes." You said shakily, trying to keep your composure.

"And the baby's with you?"

"Yes."

"Damn," He murmured. "Alright, hang tight. I'm on my way."

"Thank you," You breathed. "Thank you, John."

"Don't leave the store," He said firmly. "Just wait for me, yeah?"

"I won't, I'm still inside." You reassured him. "I'm not that dense."

John chuckled. "No, no, you're not. Stay calm, luv."

Click.

What was it with him and 'luv?' It wasn't fair how quickly you calmed down when he called you that. It eases your mind, even if it's only a minor change. Now wasn't the time to think about that, though. You let your hand drop into your lap, setting your phone there while you lifted Grace from the cart. You needed to keep her close. It didn't feel right not having her with you when there was some creep lurking around and eyeing you and your baby like meat.

A brief tap on the shoulder alerted you to look to your left, the smell of booze, weed, and BO assaulting your sense of smell. Looks like someone got tired of waiting.

"Hey, sweetheart,"

chapter 4

word count: 2228 (yay finally a longer one)

[eunoia009]

Hey y’all im migrating to my primary blog, see the disclaimer in my pinned post for the link. Don’t worry, chapter 3 is still coming!!

[eunoia009]

[eunoia009]

May write some RDR2 stuff in the future after my current fic (can you tell I just started playing it)

[eunoia009]

HIS BABY TEETH 😭❤️

[eunoia009]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝗼𝐮 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐞 🦋

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2: ɴᴏɪsᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴀɪɴᴛ

"Cute baby" John's ass.

He'd thought the arrival of new neighbors would be a breezy change, but he couldn't have been more wrong. Daytime was manageable; the baby fussed only occasionally, but the nights? Those were a different story. They transformed his peaceful living space into a battleground of sleeplessness, driving him straight to the nearest bar for some much-needed escape.

He couldn't even begin to imagine the toll it was taking on you and your husband, wrestling with that relentless wailing. That little bean had a set of lungs that seemed to defy the laws of physics—practically sending shockwaves through the apartment floor and echoing two stories up. Every night felt like an endurance test, and John was starting to wonder how much longer he could withstand the onslaught.

✧✩★✩✧

John could feel the migraine biting at his skull.

The crying had been nonstop for almost an hour now, and he was about ready to drown himself in the nearest body of water. Unfortunately for him, the nearest body of water would have to be the toilet a few feet away, so that wasn't pleasant. He was coming to miss the silence that he found so uncomfortable. Another muffled cry rang out from through the wall, and John decided it was time to complain, as much as he hated for this to be your first impression of him. Some grumpy old bloke telling you to shut your baby up. Charming.

With heavy, sleepy steps, John slowly made his way back to apartment 415, the weight of his exhaustion showing in each stride. He approached the door and rapped his knuckles sharply against it, the sound echoing in the stillness of the hallway. It didn’t take long for a response to come through, likely because you folks were already wide awake and well aware of the fact that the baby needed to be quiet. He began to question if he should even voice his complaint, wondering if it would only present you with another burden. There wasn't much time to decide as he looked up at the one answering the door.

He was met with you, an exasperated mother with eyebags darker than his, and disheveled hair that said plenty about how much time you had for yourself. John felt his frustration dissipate, feeling a little bad about coming here just to whine when you were clearly doing your best. In your arms was that same baby he saw the other night, fussing and raising all sorts of hell.

“Well,” John began awkwardly, briefly rubbing his tired eyes. “Y’could use a drink.” Shit, that sounded rude.

“Don’t I know it?” You sighed, rocking the newborn.

He hummed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Is this your first?”

“Yeah,” You replied shortly, before shakily speaking through your obvious stress. He could practically smell it on you, see it coming from you in waves. “Um… do you need something?”

Right. John waved a hand, shaking his head.

“Nah. I live in the flat next door. Wanted to talk t’you about the…” He trailed off, gesturing to the bundle of baby and rubbing the side of his face, “Noise.”

John sighed a guilty breath, folding his arms over his chest as he continued. “T’be blunt, I don't suppose the lil tyke is gonna quiet down any time soon?” He inquired.

You groaned quietly, glancing at the child with that same look of nervousness on your face, like you were afraid of what he'd do if the baby didn't settle. He knew you couldn't possibly fear him right now, but he understood this kind of stress even if he had never had a child of his own. It was the kind that made you think too much, with so much noise in the background that it was white noise compared to the swirling thoughts in your head. He had felt that so often in the field. Parenting was its own kind of battlefield, it seemed.

“I’m really, really sorry, she's in this phase where nothing calms her down,” You rambled as if your life depended on it. It was almost a little worrying how many excuses you blurted out. “Please don't report me to the landlord. I've already gotten a warning about it.”

John held up his hands placatingly to stop you. “Whoa, whoa, ain't gonna report you or anythin’, just relax.” He reassured you, relaxing a little himself as he saw you visibly deflate. “‘She’, eh? What’s her name?”

“Uh. Grace,” You said, nodding to your daughter. “Her name’s Grace. But she isn't giving me much grace right now.”

He chuckled a bit at that. “I bet she isn't.” He agreed, looking down at the baby who was red in the face from crying. The poor little thing was going to make herself gag if she kept that nonsense up. He grimaced, his nose scrunching up and his eyes crinkling just a bit. “Ah, she really is… upset. How old is she? Few months?”

Another nod from you. John was alright with the simplicity of your answers. It was nearly two in the morning, after all.

“I just don't know what’s wrong with her.” You mumbled, and John hummed again. It was obvious that the poor bird was pretty exhausted just by looking at you. Your pajamas were wrinkled and your hair was a mess. You needed a break.

A few different feelings began to sprout like saplings in his mind. His exhaustion, for one, ran the most rampant, his muscles silently aching to just sink into his beloved bed and sleep. However, he also felt a sense of familiarity in his concern. You reminded him of his mates in a strange way. Not because he thought you spoke like Gaz or acted like Ghost, because you didn't, but because he recognized the concern that bloomed in his heart when he looked at your tired self. It was the same concern he felt when his teammates would injure themselves, even though he knew those bastards would be fine. He was sure you would be fine as well, but as a parent, some weren't so lucky in your situation to come out the other side mentally well.

“When was the last time y’got any sleep, hm?” John asked, raising an eyebrow at you and speaking in that tone that could only be described as a gentle chiding.

“I don't even remember.” You muttered, before adding. “Again, I'm so sorry.”

He waved a hand again, shaking his head. “Oh, don't apologize. Jus’ wish I had some earplugs, is all.”

He watched you weakly nod, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He had to take pity, knowing this was your first baby and you were trying your hardest. He couldn't begin to imagine the embarrassment of a crying baby. He was beginning to enjoy the late night conversation a bit, because at least he could get to know his new neighbor, hopefully without you thinking he was some crotchety douche.

“And where’s your husband in all this?” John raised the question, tilting his head as he gave a quick glance at the crying infant.

“I… don't have one. ‘M a single mom.” You told him.

“Ah,” John grunted, shoving his hands in his pockets and attempting to make it seem like that little tidbit didn't keep him engaged. He was starting to get a lot more insight into the situation. This wasn't just a woman who couldn't get her baby to settle, but a woman on her own who couldn't get her baby to settle. He couldn't blame you for being in rough shape. He'd probably be no better if he were in your shoes. Or… well, fluffy slippers, in your case. He watched as the baby let out another wail and your face changed from exasperation to desperation.

“Have you ever held a baby before?” You asked suddenly, shifting the baby in your arms to plop her in his hands. “This is driving me crazy. Just… please.”

John was about to refuse, but if holding a baby meant you could have a second to get your bearings, he could spare a few minutes. He knew you probably didn't usually do this, but you might not be in your right mind at the moment.

“I have.” He acquiesced as he took the baby, letting you adjust his hands accordingly and lead him inside.

What was he doing?

✧✩★✩✧

John cradled the baby awkwardly as he stepped through the threshold of apartment 415, a location that had earned an infamous place in his brain within a few weeks solely because of the very infant he was currently holding. Miraculously, Grace immediately stopped crying upon realizing she was in a different person’s arms, simply staring up at him like he had three heads. As the silence settled, you let out the biggest shaky sigh of relief, rubbing your eyes.

“She don't got a problem with me, I guess,” John observed, looking down at the child and experimentally rocking her back and forth, which appeared to be something that soothed her even further, because she let out a tiny coo. He could only presume you felt alleviated beyond comprehension. He knew he felt the same, finally experiencing silence after what felt like forever.

“Can… Can you just hold her like that for a few minutes?” You asked, clasping your hands together in a pleading manner. John looked up at you, his expression shifting to surprise. He was supposed to knock on your door, ask you to be quiet, and leave, and here he was holding your damn baby. He was going to tell you absolutely not, but the look on your face made the words die on his tongue.

He let out a breathy consensus. “I can do that.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much… um…” You trailed off, looking at him expectantly.

“John. Y’can call me John.” He said, giving you a reassuring smile, his mustache curling up a bit with his lips.

“What’s your name, luv?”

chapter 3

word count: 1668

[eunoia009]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝗼𝐮 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐞

🍀John Price x single mom!reader🍀

summary: John Price isn’t a fan of children, or at least he isn’t fond of having his own. That is, until a single mother moves in the next apartment over. In his retirement from the force, what else is there to do but deliver a noise complaint?

contains: romance, fluff, no spice, reader uses she/her pronouns

(Apologies for the short intro!! The next few chapters will be longer.)

ɪɴᴛʀᴏ: ɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ?

      "Now what?"

      It's a question John asks himself every damn hour of every damn day. During his service in the British SAS, he never had to think about that. He was able to plan his next move, think about where he wanted to be when the gunfire began. He always knew what to do back then. It was second nature. However, it got mentally taxing not knowing one thing; was he going to get home alive? Were his mates? It began to fester in the back of his mind. Even though John loved his job, this stress-parasite in his brain combined with the cracking joints when he stood up made him realize... maybe it was time to take a break for good. So, he put in a notice, gave his friends (that were still standing) a goodbye, and bid farewell to the force, told his buddy, "I rather spend the rest of m'life alive, y'know?"

Now that he had locked down an affordable apartment, got all his furniture moved in, and enjoyed the peace and quiet for a while, it occurred to John that there really was such a thing as too much peace and quiet.

It was just... unnerving. He had trained himself for years to loathe the silence, because silence meant impending chaos, or at least it did in the field. Maybe he was more traumatized than he let on, he thought, taught to run towards the noise. In the quiet of his apartment, he found himself asking a question that never once crossed his mind before.

Now what?

Because what was there to do now? God, he felt old. Surely he wasn't doomed to a life of bingo games and heart problems, right? For goodness sake, he didn't even like bingo! Could he get married?

There were numerous difficulties, John realized, in being a bachelor at his age. There wasn't exactly a crowd of birds on the lookout for middle aged men such as him that sucked on cigars more than children with lollipops. Children?

Children. That was another thing. Something he hadn't quite thought of. He never planned to marry, and especially never planned to have children. Sure, he had held a few babes and was surprisingly quite good at caring for them, but it was the toddler and so forth stages that threw him off. How did parents have the willpower to commit to caring for a whole person? That's something John couldn't fathom.

Then there was the prices and supplies. Cribs, binkies, bottles, diapers, an arm and a bloody leg. Again, he had to ask, how did parents do it, and why willingly? The bond between a parent and child couldn't possibly be that strong.

Could it?

✧✩★✩✧

Beep... beep... beep...

John watched the number on the screen as the elevator rose to his floor. It all felt repetitive to him. Enter the elevator, pray nobody else would enter with him, press the number four, wait an interval of what felt like eternity, exit the elevator on floor four, and make his way to apartment 416. Home, apparently. It didn't feel that way. Not without his mates, at least. Today was a bit different. As he exited the elevator and turned into his hallway, he stumbled upon a new scene.

Cardboard were sitting outside an open door. A woman was coming in and out to grab a random cardboard box and take it inside, repeating the motion with each box. A new neighbor, presumably. Not a problem. John didn't think much of it until closer inspection. This new neighbor was moving into apartment 415, the apartment directly next to his. Again, not a problem, but the little car seat was cause for concern.

Just inside the door was a little bundle strapped into the seat, weakly squirming and kicking. A baby. It locked eyes with John for a moment, and it was quite the awkward staring contest for a staring contest with a creature that didn't yet know it existed. He gently waved at the babe, to which the little thing gurgled. He gave a soft chuckle in response.

It was a cute baby, he had to admit, even if his opinion still stood that all newborns look the same. All he heard was "he looks just like his father" or "she has the same nose as her mom", but he couldn't find the similarities or differences between babies and parents for the life of him. They had to be really obviously identical, or he'd never notice.

"What is it?" The woman's voice cooed from somewhere in the apartment after hearing the child's noises. That was John's cue to get the hell out of here. He didn't want the poor lady to come back and find a random man bothering her baby. He knows he'd move out before he even got settled if he was in her shoes.

John turned his back to the baby, walking down the hall to the next door over and unlocking it with his keys he had already taken out in preparation for his arrival. He gave the doorknob a jiggle and a lift before pushing forward, a trick the landlord showed him when he first moved here since the dumb door always got stuck.

In any other circumstances, he'd introduce himself to the new neighbor, but he felt as if it wasn't a good time right now. She was busy moving boxes, probably tired, and he wouldn't blame her if she told him to kick rocks.

Another time, he decided as he stepped inside his apartment and tiredly kicked his shoes off.

Cute baby, though.

chapter 2

word count: 945

[eunoia009]

Happy birthday Simon!!!

(His bday is apparently May 25, so I’m late, sue me)

*construction man whistle*

[eunoia009]

Welcome to my blog!!

Just some things:

🌼 I hope you like my shit. Trust, my grammar is better than how I’m using it here.

🌸Feel free to give me some requests of fics/fandoms you’d like to read about, because I’m clueless and indecisive ಥ‿ಥ, however, do not request them here. See the disclaimer below.

DISCLAIMER ! ⚠️

❕This is my old blog. I migrated to the other one because this one isn’t my primary account. You can find my current blog here.