In case it wasn't obvious – these are all one-shots. That means there is no relation between any of them.
Mother
Prompt: #39 – Cactus
Word Count: 501
i. Sacrifice
Bren loves dogs. Loves the way the light shines off their sleek coats. Loves their huge, soulful eyes. Loves the way they smile. Loves their personalities, how loyal they are, how they always seem so happy.
Juno's hair isn't sleek. It's always knotty and messy. You can tell when she's had a shower, though, because her hair will glow dark brown and smell of flowers. Her eyes aren't huge or soulful. They're wide and long, glinting blackly. When she's sad, they glimmer with hidden tears, and when she's happy they shine.
Juno's a teenager, so of course she's moody. Moody 24/7, and her smile is rare. But when she does smile, a brief glow of a smile, her pale skin glows.
But if Juno is like a dog in one thing, it's her loyalty. Snarling blackly at anything that she views as being hurtful to something she loves and trusts. She's got a dog's tenacity, too, and won't let go of something once she's gotten hold of it.
Bren loves Juno. This is why she hates Valentines Day above every other day in the year.
She's sacrificed a lot for Juno, and she'd sacrifice that one day in the year, if she could.
ii. There, There
It wasn't like how Vanessa had thought it would be.
She'd imagined Mark standing beside her as she bathed her son, breastfed him, cuddled him. She'd imagined Mark playing with him as he grew up, enrolling him in school, buying him clothes, watching him grow up.
But as Vanessa sat in her chair, she carefully kissed him on the forehead.
"You shouldn't grab," she scolded him, gently. She kissed his palm, where her son had grabbed her embroidery needle. It had bit into his soft skin, a metal in flesh, and her son had bellowed in pain.
But Vanessa had kissed it better. It was what mothers did.
"Shush," she whispered gently, rocking him in her arms, "There, there,"
iii. Hope
"Ow!"
Juno sucked at her finger as she dropped the cactus.
"You know your mother loves to send spiky gifts," said Mac with a heavy sigh.
"That doesn't stop it hurting!" snapped Juno back, before wincing, "Hey, quit it," she muttered, before rubbing her stomach gently.
Mac's lips tightened.
"Oh," he said, "You got this, too,"
Juno picked up the envelope curiously. It was light blue, and the handwriting oddly familiar…
Juno hiccuped strangely.
"Junebug?" called Bren from the kitchen. Mac watched his daughter carefully.
Juno's lips went white and, without opening it, she tore Bleeker's letter to her in two, and let the pieces drop on the floor.
Then, head held high, hands trembling, she went upstairs to her bedroom.
Bren sighed.
"What made him send her that letter?" asked Mac, "He knows Juno; he would know she'd tear it up,"
Bren bent over and picked the pieces up, before carefully putting them in her embroidery drawer.
"The same reason your daughter opens those packages without thinking," she said sadly, "Hope."