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ladylillianrose · 4 years

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Seasons of Love a Max Richman/Zoey Clarke Fanfiction

A/N: Alright guys we are headed into the home stretch! Just 2 more chapters left! Thank you all for the lovely comments and for reading this! I really appreciate you taking the time to read my work and letting me know how much you enjoy it! It means so much to me!

Thanks to aubreyrichman for reading it over and fixing my errors!

As always I’m just borrowing the characters for fun, they belong to the genius that is Austin Winsberg!

Summary: Thanksgiving with the Clarke family

This month's song is “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy” by Rod Stewart (Listen to it here https://youtu.be/Hphwfq1wLJs )

November 26 Thanksgiving

October 31 Halloween

September 23 Max’s Birthday

August 12 Perseids Meteor Shower

July 4 Independence Day

June 21 Father’s Day

May 10 Mother’s Day

April 12 Easter

March 17 St. Patrick’s Day

February 14 Valentine’s Day

December 31-January 1 New Year’s Eve/New Year’s Day

Thanksgiving was the only time Maggie allowed Zoey to "help" in the kitchen. There was so much to prepare and do that she needed all hands on deck.

David and Emily were off the hook for helping since they had their hands full with Peter. He had started teething recently and was having trouble being soothed. Which, of course, meant that David and Emily were both exhausted.

Zoey finished getting the table set, while Maggie basted the turkey and Max worked on mashing the potatoes.

"Anything else I can help with Mom?" She asked, looking to make sure she hadn't missed anything.

Maggie glanced up, "No, I think we're good. Why don't you just sit and keep us company?"

"Sure, I can do that," she reached for a chair at the island when she heard Peter begin to cry.

"Why don't I go offer them a break," Zoey left the kitchen, and headed upstairs. She knocked on the door to David's old room. He opened the door looking exhausted and holding a crying Peter.

"Gimme," Zoey said, holding out her hands.

David breathed a sigh of relief as he handed him over. "Here's his teether. He can have some Motrin in about an hour if he's still a mess "

Peter had stopped crying as soon as he was in his Aunt's arms. He was watching her hair as it bounced up and down when she nodded at David.

"Come on, Peter, let's go see what Grandma and Uncle Max are up to," she said cheerfully.

Even in his exhausted state David looked at her oddly, "Something you haven't told us?"

"Huh?" Zoey wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"Uncle Max? I don't see a ring there?" David nodded at her bare left hand.

Zoey turned bright red, "Just a slip of the tongue."

David chuckled, "Relax, Sis. He's practically family, anyway, I'm just teasing you. Actually, I wanted to run something by you. It’s just Emily and I were talking about it, and we were wondering if you and Max would be Peter's godparents."

"Godparents? As in?"

"More like you get to be his extra special Aunt and Uncle."

"Are you saying that you don't think I'm special enough?" Zoey teased.

"Yeah yeah, you know what I mean. It also means that Emily and I would name you guys Peter's legal guardians in case something ever happens to us."

"Oh, David," Zoey reached out to grasp his hand. "Of course I will. Though, you should be the one to tell Max. I think it would mean a lot coming from you."

"Of course. Thanks Zo, it's important to us that he's in good hands."

Zoey leaned in and hugged him as tight as she could while holding Peter.

"Now go on, some of us need to try and nap," David said, waving her off.

"Look who I escaped with!" Zoey laughed as she entered the kitchen, bouncing Peter up and down excitedly.

Maggie grinned, stopping long enough to drop a kiss on her grandson's head.

"Are your toothies bothering you again?” She glanced at his red and tear stained cheeks. "Poor guy. Here, Grandma knows what to do." Maggie reached into the freezer and pulled out a frozen washcloth.

Zoey took it and held it up to Peter. Peter grabbed it, shoving a corner of it into his mouth and began sucking away.

"Is that better? Grandma’s pretty smart like that," Zoey said, smiling at him.

She walked over to where Max was getting the stuffing ready for the oven.

She smiled as he dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Hey, buddy," he said to Peter. "Hanging out with Auntie Zo? Can't say I blame you, she's pretty cool."

Zoey laughed, "I thought we had already established how not cool we are."

Max grinned, "Ah but Peter doesn't have a concept of cool yet, so anything you do is cool enough for him."

Zoey shook her head. "Peter, your Uncle Max is being ridiculous."

Max whipped his head up and looked at her. She didn't seem to realize what she had just said.

Zoey started humming as she swayed back and forth with Peter. She glanced at Max who was looking at her with something akin to awe on his face.

“Max, honey? Are you okay?”

Max grinned and nodded at her. “I’m fine, babe. Just thinking about something.”

Zoey nodded and turned back to Peter who was starting to fall asleep in her arms.

Maggie came over and held out her arms for him, “I’ll take him back to David. Max, can you just keep an eye on things?”

“Of course. I won’t let Zoey anywhere near the stove,” he said, tossing a wink her way. Maggie chuckled and left with Peter.

Zoey made a face at him, swatting his hands away when he attempted to placate her with a hug.

“Nope, you’re being mean!” she chastised, turning her back to him.

Max wrapped his arms around her waist, “I’m just teasing you, sweetheart. I love that you’re a terrible cook. It gives me the chance to cook for you.”

Zoey leaned back against him. “Well, I do love it when you cook for me,” she admitted, begrudgingly.

Max chuckled, he turned her in his arms and gave her a soft kiss.

Max pulled away to check on the food.

Zoey took a seat, enjoying the view of him bending over to open the oven. She let out a small whistle.

Max glanced back at her and shook his head with a grin.

“What can I say? I enjoy the view,” Zoey cheekily said.

“Mmm I see, you only want me for my body,” he teased.

Zoey watched, entranced as Max began to shake his hips to a nonexistent beat.

He turned around, and catching the direction of her gaze, he tossed a wink at her as he began to sing

If you want my body and you think I'm sexy

Come on, sugar, tell me so

Zoey couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her as Max pulled her against him, continuing the song.

If you really need me, just reach out and touch me

Come on, honey, tell me so

Max pulled back and looked at her face flushed with laughter. "Sorry, I can't remember how the rest of the song goes," Max said, shrugging.

Zoey started laughing again as she pulled him down to kiss him.

"What's so funny?" Max asked between kisses.

"Nothing, you're just cute," Zoey grinned.

Maggie came back into the kitchen, smiling as she saw the happy couple laughing. She felt a pang in her chest as she wished that Mitch was there to see how happy Zoey was.

They pulled apart, blushing as they realized Maggie had been watching them.

Maggie waved them off. "Looks like everything is about ready. So, let's get it on the table and we can all eat."

The family, minus Peter who was still sleeping, gathered around the table.There was a slight air of sadness to the meal. It was the first of the big holidays that they would be facing without Mitch. David carved the turkey and they toasted in memory of Mitch.

While they ate, they shared stories and memories of Thanksgivings past.

Max chuckled as Maggie described the year that Zoey was insistent that they eat only what Snoopy had served in the Peanuts Thanksgiving special.

"She was 5 and so very stubborn," Maggie laughed. "And she stood there telling Mitch that he was wrong, that we didn't need a Turkey for thanksgiving, but instead needed jelly beans, toast, popcorn, pretzels and ice cream sundaes. And you know how Mitch was, so of course he goes out and braves the grocery store the day before Thanksgiving to get everything on Zoey's list."

Zoey flushed, taking a drink of her wine to cover her embarrassment.

"Luckily, Mom managed to convince Zoey that we could have regular Thanksgiving for dinner, and Snoopy's Thanksgiving for breakfast instead." David chimed in. "Plus, it kept her out of everyone's hair when the inevitable sugar crash happened. She was a menace in the kitchen from an early age."

Zoey wadded up her napkin and threw it at David, hitting him in the face.

"Hey, ow! Mom!!"

Maggie, Max and Emily all locked eyes and just shook their heads

They heard a cry come from the baby monitor on the counter.

David went to stand, but Max gestured for him to sit. "I'll get him, you guys are still eating."

David nodded and sat back down.

Max squeezed Zoey's shoulder as he passed her chair.

When he got upstairs, Peter was looking up at him from the crib, a confused expression on his face.

"Hey big guy, was that a good nap?" Max asked, smiling as he picked him up.

"You almost missed all of dinner, sleepy head!" He teased, tickling Peter's toes to make him smile.

Peter made a "whoooo," noise kicking his feet.

"Who? Well kiddo, that's the question. I'm the man who loves your Auntie Zoey. And though, I don't know that she realized it, but earlier, she called me your Uncle Max."

Peter grinned at Max, "ahhhhhh," he responded.

"My thoughts exactly," Max agreed. "So, maybe someday soon I can be your actual uncle." He grinned, mentally planning a trip in the future to get his Grandmother's ring resized.

"But that will be our little secret for now, okay buddy?"

"Aaaa," Peter responded.

"Good, I knew you could keep a secret."

Max and Peter made their way into the kitchen. David, Emily and Maggie were all grinning at him.

Zoey had tears in her eyes as she smiled at him. He cocked his head at her and she shook her head. He handed Peter to Emily, who thanked him. "Did you tell your Uncle Max ‘thank you’, Peter?"

Max looked at her startled. She pointed to the blinking baby monitor. Max turned red, groaning in embarrassment. "Ohhh, ummm…"

David interrupted him. "That is if you want to be. We were actually hoping that you would agree to be Peter's godfather."

Max looked over at Zoey who smiled at him and nodded.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded at David and Emily, "I'd be honored."

Zoey beamed at him as he sat down. He looked around at the table at the family that had become more dear to him than he could imagine.

Zoey squeezed his hand affectionately, and he turned to look at her. She leaned her head onto his shoulder and sighed contentedly.

Oh yes, he decided. He needed to get the ring resized very soon.

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let-it-raines · 5 years

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Second in Command (33/35)

Summary: Life as the “spare to the heir” isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be when you’re the supposed screw-up of the family, but people don’t know what really happens behind closed doors.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Sometimes I get bored and decide to make a new aesthetic? I mean, what else is Pinterest for if I can’t redo my entire house all at once?

So a double line break of “-/-” means we’re changing POV. I’m going to do that for these last three chapters as we move around a bit in their lives. So time is going to skip around a bit quicker unlike it usually does! I hope you enjoy :D

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |

Sequel Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @kristi555 @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @artistic-writer @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @alys07 @andiirivera @emmas-storybook @superchocovian @in-spirational @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @shireness-says @jonirobinson64

“Your Highness.”

“It’s Emma, Samuel,” she sighs as she pours another glass of beer and slides it across the bar top to Johnathon. She can’t see his name on his uniform, but she thinks it’s Jonathon. “I am currently serving you beer. You can call me Emma.”

“Yes ma’am – yes, Emma. Sorry, sorry. It’s just that if any of my officers heard me calling you Emma back at the parade, they’d have my head.”

She chuckles under her breath and stops what she’s doing, letting the chatter of the rest of the pub drown away from her ears like she became so accustomed to doing in the years that she worked here. “Samuel, I completely understand, but I promise under this dress and this hat and all of the security staring at us talking right now, I am just a girl who happened to marry someone with a title. But I was a bartender for longer than I’ve been a Duchess, and I promise you can call me Emma the one time a year I see you when we’re doing this whole celebration. Now, did you need something?”

“Um, yeah, I was just going to,” he begins, scratching behind his ear in a way that reminds her so much of Killian that she’d swear she was talking to him and not a member of the Irish Guard, “I was just wondering if I could get some water instead of a Guinness.”

“Of course you can,” she answers, shaking her head and bending down to pick up a new glass before filling it up with some water and handing it to him with a napkin. “Don’t be so nervous to ask me things. I promise that it’s not weird that I’m serving you drinks.” Samuel’s cheeks tint pink, and she presses her lips together in a soft smile. “Go have some fun. You’ve done a great job today.”

He nods, a smile on his face. “Yes ma’am.”

When he walks away, out of the corner of her eye she can see Will coming up to her, the cheekiest of smiles on his face. She was not at all prepared to have to work with him again even though they do this every St. Patrick’s Day. Talking to him on the phone or through text is such a normal part of her life, but working with him, that’s something she has to slide back into with a bit of a learning curve.

“Oi, Your Highness,” he teases, nudging her shoulder while she rolls her eyes, “that man has a crush on you, and while I don’t tend to worry about your romantic life anymore, I am very used to a man flirting with you from across the bar.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, it was bloody disgusting, but I think it worked out for you.”

“I mean, I think so. He’s just my husband and the father of my child, though. It’s not impressive or anything.”

“You’re telling me. I watched all of the awkward flirting. It looked just like that man there.”

“Hush,” she laughs before turning her face toward Will and kissing his cheek. “We were highly entertaining, and you know it. How boring would all of those nights have been with just you and me sitting here?”

Will shrugs, a sly smile creeping onto his lips. “I don’t know. Maybe you and I could have given it a go.”

“Oh my God,” she snickers, covering her mouth with her hands as she watches Will absolutely fail at keeping a straight face from his joke. His horrible joke. “You’re ridiculous. Why would you even lie to me like that?”

He nods his head toward the other side of the room and she turns to find Killian staring at her with a shy smile on his face, very obviously not listening to the men he’s sitting with, the cap on his uniform askew on the top of his head. “Your husband was watching us. Figured I could use this opportunity to tease him.”

“You need to find hobbies.”

“Hey now, I’ve got some. Belle’s been recommending me books to read when it’s slow here. I’ve got a whole stack under the counter.”

“I kind of figured those were just Belle’s books that she brought when she was visiting you.”

“Well, maybe that too. Why don’t you go hang out with Killian and the Guard, Ems? They’ve slowed down on their orders. I can finish up here.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, looking between Will and all of the Guard filling the pub. “I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure, love. This is your first day back at work, and I really don’t think anyone imagined this is what you’d be doing.”

“This is what I do every year,” she murmurs at the same time that she’s walking out from back behind the bar. “I’m going to come back and talk to you later, though, because I want you and Belle to come over for something to eat. Andy is a really big fan of you.”

“That’s because I’m his best uncle.”

“Well, you are his godfather after all, but seriously, you’re coming over for something to eat. And if you say that my dad has you working at night, there’s always breakfast.”

“Whatever you wish, Your Highness.”

She sticks her tongue out in what she knows is a totally unprofessional move, but sometimes she can’t help herself when working, especially when in such a relaxed atmosphere like this. She weaves in and out of the tables, talking to the people she passes, until she reaches Killian’s table and settles down in the empty chair with her coat hanging over it. Killian’s in the middle of a conversation, so he doesn’t greet her just yet, but his hand does find itself on her knee, squeezing her skin in silent greeting to let her know that he sees her.

“So how old is your son now?” a woman asks her. She can’t remember her name, can’t see her nametag, so she’s just going to avoid saying her name at all, which is pretty much how she’s gotten away with these things for so long. There’s only a few who she actually knows at this point.

“Six months in a couple of days, which makes me proud that we’ve kept him alive that long and also a little sad that he’s already that old.”

“Well, from what I’ve seen, he’s a cutie, and I thank you both for spending time with us today when you could be home with him.”

“Think nothing of it,” Killian says softly as his hand starts moving up and down her thigh. Leaving Andy has been easier in the past month, and as nice as it is to get away, she misses him. Killian does too. He’s just not the one who is coming back early from maternity leave for this. She’s broken it a lot, more than she thought she would, but they’ve been here for awhile. She’s ready to go home no matter how nice it is. “He is at home with my parents who opted for babysitting instead of being here, so I’m sure he’s having a grand time.”

“Your mum is probably coaxing him into saying her name first.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that.”

They continue to chat with everyone at the table for a little while before Killian’s leaning over and whispering in her ear. “I think it’s time to go home and see Andy. That sound good to you?”

“Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

-/-

“We are so, so late.”

“We are not that late.”

“The plane leaves in an hour.”

“We are fifteen minutes away from the airport.”

“We have to go through security.” “A private security that’s going to quickly get through the three of us. And they won’t leave without us.”

“Ruby might tell the pilot to go out of spite.” “She will not.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Momma,” Andy babbles, his voice shocking him out of his squabble with Emma as they drive to get on a plane to go to Fiji for Ruby and Graham’s wedding on Saturday.

He can’t really take his eyes off the road, but he sees Emma turn around, leaning back in the seat to reach out for Andy and to whisper quiet words to him. He doesn’t seem upset. There’s no crying, so he assumes he just wants to practice using the one word he knows. He’s definitely not bitter or anything that he called out Emma’s name first. Seriously, not at all. He practiced it with Andy for a reason.

Emma is the epitome of what a good mother should be, and watching the woman he loves be a mother to their child makes him happier than nearly everything else. He’s not often one to lack words, but he often does when it comes to describing Emma and how wonderful she is in every role that she takes on.

“Is he okay, love?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, leaning back up into her seat, “he’s fine. He’s simply excited to get to go on his first holiday.”

“Technically he went to New Zealand with us last month.” “That was for work. It doesn’t count.”

He quickly glances in the mirror to watch his son as he messes with the colorful play keys that he’s holding. “That definitely counts, love. When he’s older we’ll have to take him again so he can remember. You just know that at some point he’s going to say it didn’t count because he was an infant.”

She shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe he’ll just say, ‘Cool. I got to wear a tiny baby suit for my aunt Ruby’s wedding in Fiji.’”

“Yeah, I don’t really think that’s going to happen.”

Even without looking at her, he knows that Emma is rolling her eyes at him, but it doesn’t really matter because they are almost to the airport and on their way to their first holiday that requires absolutely no work…except getting Ruby and Graham married and making sure that Andy doesn’t start crying in the middle of the ceremony. Emma had asked Ruby if they should let him stay with David and Mary Margaret, but considering David and Mary Margaret are coming to this wedding, well, that wouldn’t have exactly worked out. And Ruby had wanted him here with them. So Andy has a bag packed that includes a small tan linen suit for an eleven-month-old baby because while Emma may sometimes claim not to be into getting dressed up and all that it requires, she loves to find Andy clothes, especially ones that make him look like he’s just a miniature older man. Seriously, the suit has suspenders.

His suit also has suspenders, and as much as Emma has loved those in the past, he’s not sure that he can outshine their boy. He doesn’t really want to, but he wouldn’t mind if Emma were to snap his suspenders herself while Andy is staying with her parents or asleep in the next room. Actually, he fully intends on that being the plan. He’s thrilled for his friends to be getting married, couldn’t be happier for them, but he, his wife, and his son are going to spend at least one of their days out by the ocean, letting Andy explore the sand and a bit of the water. In the back of his mind he worries about Andy not liking it, but he’s kind of got this gut feeling that he will.

They get to the airport a little too close for comfort, and he knows he was speeding a bit by the way Thomas’s eyes are bugging out. He looks absolutely terrified, and it’s likely because he’s had to handle all of the logistics for their vacation when he and Emma keep telling him not to worry about it. It’s literally his job to worry about it, and one day, Killian is sure they’re going to make Thomas pass out from stress. Killian has told him to hire help, especially as they’ve started construction on their new home, but the man is a tad bit stubborn.

That’s a pretty consistent trait in their household.

“I was going to tell the pilot to leave without you all,” Ruby teases, hugging them as they board up on the flight, Emma carrying Andy and him carrying their luggage. “But I just couldn’t leave without my little man.”

“See,” Emma laughs, turning back to him with an absolute smirk on her face, “she totally would have left without us.”

“I know, darling,” he sighs, kissing Ruby’s cheek in greeting before putting all of the bags but the diaper bag in the overhead bins. “I know.”

All in all, the flight isn’t too bad. Andy’s ears popped, and that was a bit of a disaster, especially since his screaming made everyone else a bit cranky, but the pain wore away after a little while once he got his pacifier in him. The thing is a God send, and he already worries about when they’ll have to take it away from him…which is definitely not the thing to be worried about right now.

The first night everyone settles into their rooms before going to dinner. They leave Andy behind with Isabelle if only because she offered and Emma trusts her with Andy more than she would trust anyone who is employed by the resort. They’ve thought about getting a nanny for more than just when they’re both working, but to them, it just doesn’t seem right. At least for now. If (when, hopefully) they have more kids, Emma’s said they should talk about it some more, especially because Andy really does enjoy spending time with Elsa when she watches him while they work. She’s somehow got a bit of a magic touch when it comes to him when it comes to him even though he can be a bit fussy when not around people he knows.

Their first real day there is when the three of them go to the beach early in the morning just as the sun is rising and most everyone else is asleep. He knows that Mary Margaret had wanted to spend some time with them today, but he kind of wanted this to be just a them experience. He’s aware that he doesn’t work as often as a lot of parents, but even with that, he’s missed so many of his son’s first. He missed the first crawl, the first step, and the first word. Emma was there for all of it, thank goodness, but he wasn’t. But he’ll be there for the first time Andy goes to the beach. He’s been thinking about this day for a long time, even told Emma so on their anniversary trip when she was pregnant, and even though it’s such a small thing, it’s kind of like a dream becoming reality.

His reality is a good one.

“Alright, Andy,” Emma begins, dangling his feet over the sand, “you may not like this, but I cannot stress enough how important it is to Daddy for you to like this. He’s a bit of a weirdo, and he really wants you to like the beach.”

He rolls his eyes as he holds his phone, the button to record a video already hit. Andy’s dressed a pair of blue trunks with white anchors on them and has got a t-shirt on to cover his stomach. He was a bit of a chunk for awhile, and Killian kind of misses the fat rolls that were his arms and legs. It’s a weird thing to miss, but he’s stopped worrying about all of the odd thoughts that he has now that he’s a parent.

It’s a lot.

Of course, as cute as Andy’s little outfit is, his wife is in a sinful black bikini that shows off nearly inch of her body, and if this wasn’t a family moment in a reasonably public place, things would be happening very differently.

“Okay then,” Emma sighs, squatting down into the sand and slowly lowering Andy with her until his feet touch the soft sand. He almost immediately lifts them up, his bottom lip quivering while his face reddens, but the longer Emma keeps him there, whispering soothing words and running her hand through the sand over his feet, the more he calms. “So he’s not exactly the biggest fan,” Emma laughs to him and the camera, “but I think we’re working on it. Daddy is just going to have to accept that some things are an acquired taste.”

“Like you, love?”

She cuts him the meanest of glances, and he’ll forever be thankful that he got that on camera. That’s something that he’s going to want to keep forever if only to have proof that she’s not always looking at him with loving eyes.

The rest of their day is spent much the same way, going inside to keep Andy out of the sun and relaxing with the view of the ocean in front of them, clear blue water at nearly every turn. By the time that six rolls around, he’s a little sun kissed and tired, but they’ve got the rehearsal dinner to go to even if there’s no more than twenty people here, Emma’s family making up a fourth of that. But he and Emma both give short speeches, the both of them much cleaner than he one Ruby gave at their wedding reception even though he knows that Emma has some stories about Ruby that would absolutely get the room roaring and get even Ruby’s grandmother, the tough lass that she is, to blush and look like she’s been sunburned. Really, though, neither of them need to do that because Ruby being Ruby, she gives a speech herself, and he can feel the red reach the tips of his ears at some of the things she says.

She is something special, and he’s honored to get to be her friend. More so, he’s thrilled that Graham could meet here and that they’ve found each other. Everyone deserves that little bit of happiness.

He and Emma both take credit for their meeting, and neither of them are willing to give up any position on that. It’s a matter of pride, and Graham and Ruby have so much to look forward to when they get married. Really, they do, petty arguments included in a long list of good things that he should be more thankful for on a daily basis.

“You nervous?” he asks Graham the next day as Graham paces back and forth in his hotel room, Andy doing his best impersonation by slowly waddling along, aided by the occasional piece of furniture. He still falls pretty often, but Killian can see the determination in the blue of his eyes.

“Yes, no, maybe, definitely,” Graham chuckles, the pitch going a bit higher before he sits down on the bed and reaches to take a sip of his water. “I mean, it’s normal to be nervous, right? And I’m not sure if it’s even nerves. I think it might be…anticipation.”

“Aye, mate,” he laughs, getting up from his chair and moving to stand next to Andy, holding his hands to help him walk. He’s still just in his diaper. Emma gave Killian strict instructions not to get Andy dressed until she comes to help, and he’s sticking to it. Though, Killian’s already put on his suspenders, but he doesn’t think Emma will be displeased about that. “It’s normal. I mean, you know that you want to marry her, and then the day comes and it’s all so overwhelming. I barely slept a wink the night before my wedding.”

“Your wedding was also a national event.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t care about any of that. I just wanted to marry Emma.”

“That’s how I feel too.” Graham pauses for a bit before speaking again. “Oh shit – shoot. I mean with Ruby. I don’t want to marry your wife, mate.”

Killian barks out a laugh, the feeling rumbling through his stomach, before picking Andy up and resting him on his hip. “You hear that, lad? Your Uncle Graham doesn’t want to marry Mummy? I’m so relieved.”

“You’re a wanker.”

“You wanted to marry my wife.”

“Well that’s a weird thing to hear,” Emma laughs as she closes the door behind her. Andy’s head immediately turns to her, and he lets out a “momma” as his hands reach out for her. Sometimes Emma likes to claim that he plays favorites with Killian, but there is no one Andy loves more than Emma. No one. Not even his Mimi or Gammy, and they spoil them. “Hey, Andy baby,” she sighs, walking over to them with the train of her champagne dress falling behind her. She looks so stunning, and he’ll never quite get over that she agreed to marry him and that they had a day like this once upon a time.

Maybe he’s a bit too nostalgic.

“You look beautiful, darling,” he compliments, kissing her on her cheek as she takes Andy out of his arms.

“Thank you. You look handsome, babe. And you too, Graham. Though from what I’m hearing, I probably shouldn’t be complimenting you. I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression.”

“Bloody hell. You two are impossible. That’s not at all what I said.”

“I’m sure,” Emma sympathizes, walking to Graham and straightening his bow tie. “Ruby looks beautiful. She’s all set and ready to go for pictures, so if you want to go out there and see her while Killian and I get Andy ready, feel free.”

“I’m definitely going.” Graham pops up from the bed and takes Emma’s hand before kissing her knuckles, playfully winking at Killian as he does say. “You look beautiful, lass. Don’t believe a thing your husband says about me when I leave.”

“I never do.” Graham practically jogs out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. “So you guys have a good time in here? Is he nervous? He didn’t really look nervous.”

“He was, but I calmed him down, I think. What about Ruby?”

“Ruby was literally sitting in our room eating Cheetos right up until she put the dress on. She’s fine. She’s Ruby.”

“That she is.”

It’s an untraditional wedding by what he’s used to, just Ruby and Graham standing at an alter with vibrant flowers and greenery framing them, and even though he knows they use the standard vows, there’s something oddly intimate and beautiful about it. For Ruby to always be so loud and vibrant herself, everything is subdued until they’re pronounced husband and wife, and Ruby cups Graham’s face and kisses the holy hell out of him. It’s in no way family appropriate, but it’s likely the most Ruby thing he’s ever seen.

And when it’s all over, Andy asleep in the next room, Emma does help him take his suspenders off, the straps falling to the floor with the rest of their clothing as she whispers over and over again just how much she loves him.

And that she thinks the suspenders are hot. He likes that part too.

-/-

“Do you want to do something special for your birthday?”

Killian looks up at her from over his book, his glasses perched on the end of his nose, until he folds the corner of a page and closes the novel, placing it in his lap. She’s not sure what about the scene screams David Nolan to her, but something definitely does. She’s definitely fallen into that stereotype of falling for someone like her father, and to her, that is a little weird. At least they’re not too similar. It’s just a few little things.

Still weird, though.

“I’m turning thirty-three, love. I don’t need something big. I kind of figured we’d be skipping over my birthday from now on because Andrew’s birthday is so close to mine.”

“Hey,” she soothes, getting up from the lounge chair she was curled up in, putting her laptop on the coffee table as she moves, and settling down on Killian’s thighs when he moves his book, “I am not going to forget your birthday.” She wraps her arms around his neck before she gently kisses him, tasting the spice of his tea and the warmth of his skin as she settles into it. “That’s why I’m asking. You know I’ve already got all of Andy’s stuff for his party, but I couldn’t forget you.”

He shrugs, and she knows that if his hands weren’t resting on her waist right now, one of them definitely sneaking up her back to undo her bra clasp, that he’d be scratching his ear right now. “I might like to do a nice dinner with just you and me. We could get our family or Elsa to watch Andy for a couple of hours.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I think that’d be nice. What about you, though? I’m simply turning thirty-three. You’re turning thirty next month, and if I can remember that far back to when it was my turn, I believe that is a big birthday.”

“A big birthday that I do not want to talk about. My baby is turning one in two weeks, my husband is thirty-three, and I’m turning thirty. We’re all getting old.”

“You and I both know that’s not true.” She’s about to protest, the thought of not being in her twenties anymore not a comforting one, when Killian begins trailing his lips over her jaw, making every word she had completely and totally evaporates in her brain. “So we’ll put your birthday talk on the backburner and go out for a nice dinner for me, okay? And there will be no need to think about how you’re one step closer to death.”

“Stop,” she groans, slapping his shoulder before she buries her face in his shoulder. “That is so not funny.”

“I thought it was pretty funny.”

“That’s because you have a horrible sense of humor.”

“And yet you married me, so you’re stuck with that horrible sense of humor for the rest of your life.”

“What a life to have to suffer through.” Killian rolls his eyes before kissing her cheek, and she settles further into his lap, resting her head on his shoulder. “What are you reading?”

“It’s just a collection of short stories. I’m supposed to read something at the library wing opening on Wednesday, and I figured Andy’s books weren’t exactly an option.”

“I mean, you could read one of them if you wanted. That’d be kind of cute.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh absolutely,” she sighs, running her nails up and down his arm and over his biceps. “There’s something weirdly sexy about a man spending time with children.”

“You say this as if I don’t do this every day of my life.”

“You’ve gotten infinitely sexier as a dad. I wasn’t even attracted to you before, but now…phew.” Killian pinches the skin on her back from where he never did manage to unclasp her bra, and she jumps a little, the pain only stinging for a moment before it fades away. “The pinch was definitely not necessary.”

“Well, I just assumed that if you were going to tease me, I could do the same.”

“Not physically,” she laughs before leaning in and slanting her lips of his again, gently flicking her tongue out only to pull back a moment later, her forehead resting against his while his nose brushes into her cheek. “I seriously think you should read with the kids. As great as I’m sure these stories are, you reading with children will probably be more interesting than you standing at a podium reading to bored adults.”

“I have an excellent story-telling voice. Who says they would be bored?”

“I do,” she whispers before kissing him again, appreciating the taste of his lips and this quiet moment that they’re getting to have right now. Life has been so busy lately, and it’s kind of nice to leisurely move her lips over Killian’s without there being something to worry about or a kid to be watching. He’s napping, will be up any minute now, and while that means they don’t actually have any real time, it doesn’t feel like that. “We’ll find one of Andy’s books for when he’s older, and you’ll read it. But you can continue to read your short stories. I’ll be your audience for that.”

Killian raises a brow, mischief in his eyes, and she already knows he’s going to make it dirty without him even speaking. “I rather enjoy you being my private audience, especially because I don’t have to watch my language in the slightest.”

“Later, my love,” she promises. “I’ll be your private audience later. I’m going to go look up cake recipes for your birthday.”

“Please don’t do that.”

“Hey, I can bake.”

“You can, but I don’t want you to go through the trouble when less than a week later we’ll have more sweets than we can imagine for Andy’s party.”

“Do you think we’ve gone a little excessive for a one-year-old’s party?”

“No,” he sighs, his hand leaving her back, the loss of heat immediate, until he’s thumbing at her cheekbone, “we’re not considering the only people who are coming over are our families and a few friends. Our baby is turning one. We can celebrate with a cake that looks like a giraffe because he for some reason really loves giraffes.”

“I’m thinking it’s because he’s got a giant stuffed one in his room.”

“Aye, probably.”

“Can you believe that our baby is almost one?”

“Not in the slightest.” Killian adjusts her in his lap, her legs curling up under her knees, and she tucks her head into her shoulder again, his scruff scratching at his forehead. “It seems like just yesterday you were yelling at me to fuck you so we could try to induce labor.”

“I was late. I was desperate. Pregnancy is not fun toward the end. Or at the beginning. The middle is pretty good.”

“So you’ve said.”

“But I did get a really cute kid who looks far too much like his daddy and only screams his head off every now and then.”

“Yeah, I do like him a lot. Very cute. Big vocabulary. I think we’re at three words now. Momma, Dada, and ball, which really means no to him. Haven’t quite figured that one out yet.”

“Me either. He’ll get it, though. I like to think he’s smart.”

“Bloody brilliant, really.”

“It’s because you read all of those books to him like you’re going to do at the opening of the new wing in the library.”

“And she brings it all full circle,” Killian laughs before she feels his lips against her temple, scruff pleasantly brushing her skin. “I promise I’ll read to the kids. If you want, you and Andy can come. If not, I’ll give him a reading when I get home.”

“I like that plan. I think he might like to make a public appearance in a private space. And if he doesn’t, it’s not like he can say no.”

-/-

“Bullocks.”

“It’s true,” he insists, propping his feet up on Liam’s coffee table while he takes a sip of his rum. “When I was a teenager, I really did sneak out of the palace without any security knowing.”

“How?”

“Secret tunnels, mate. They’re real, and security doesn’t pay any attention to one of the back gates. Or at least they didn’t. Now they do even though Mum and Dad are the only ones who live there. How did you not do this?”

“I guess I always told security where I was,” he laughs, brushing a curl off of his forehead. “What did you even do when you left?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, putting his glass on the table and leaning his head back against the sofa cushions. “I just wanted to see if I could leave without anyone noticing. I wasn’t the wild child everyone assumed I was.”

“But what about the – ”

“All the stuff at university?”

“Yeah,” Liam sighs, running his hand through his hair again before he fiddles with the buttons on his shirt, his question obviously making him a little uncomfortable even if he was the one who brought it up. “I mean, I know we’ve talked about it before, but that was back when I was an asshole and didn’t really listen to you.” “Bold of you to assume that you’re not still an asshole.”

Liam chuckles, doing nothing more than shrugging again. “I mean, you’re choosing to spend your night sitting with me when you could be at your in-laws house eating dinner, so I must not be too bad.”

“You’re okay every now and then.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Give it a few more years for you to make up for a lifetime of being an asshole, and then I’ll talk about what a great brother you are.”

“I’m glad I have things to look forward to.” “Well, at such an old age, I’m glad I could give you something.”

“I need something else to drink.” Liam gets up from the couch before grabbing his glass. “You want some more?”

“No, I’m good. My tolerance has really lessened since I stopped spending all of my nights in a pub.”

“Good point.”

He stays with Liam for a few more hours, the two of them falling into more nostalgia that they used to never allow themselves to do, but he can’t stay forever so he makes his way home to Emma and Andy who he knows will already be asleep when he gets there. He was really only going to spend an hour or two with Liam as they watched a football match and ate dinner, but time somehow got away from them.

“Hey, darling,” he greets when he walks into the bedroom where Emma is already in bed on her laptop. He leans over her and presses a kiss against her forehead before backing up toward the bathroom. “How was dinner with your parents?”

“It was good,” she sighs, closing her laptop and placing it on the mattress. “How was dinner with Liam?”

“Good, but it probably wasn’t as good as the food you all had. Is Andy asleep?”

“Out like a light,” she answers as he undresses, stripping down into just his briefs. “I’m about to fall asleep too, but I kind of wanted to talk to you about something.”

He stops what he’s doing, the shirt in his hand crumpling up instead of getting put on a hanger like he intended. It’s rarely a good thing when Emma says that, and he’s not sure where exactly she’s going with this, especially since they haven’t spent the day together “What’s up, love?” he asks, tossing the clothes in a basket to get to later and walking back over toward the bed, settling down on the edge of it so he can look Emma in the eye. The eyes that are a little watery, so this is definitely not good news, his heartbeat already quickening. “Emma, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing…nothing is wrong,” she promises, even as she sniffles the slightest bit and wipes away at unshed tears. “It’s just, well, I don’t have a sibling, and yours is nearly a decade older than you so it’s not quite the same. And I know we’ve had this conversation before, a lot of times really, but we always say later and never say anything definite. But I – well, I want another baby.”

She whispers the last words so quietly than if he weren’t intently listening to her, he wouldn’t hear them. But he does. He hears them even through the pounding in his heart. Sighing in content, he reaches over and takes her hands in his, squeezing her palms. This is so much better than what he was expecting when she said she wanted to talk to him about something. He doesn’t even know what he was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

“You do?”

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it for awhile. It’s insane because I feel like we just had Andy, but, you know, it takes a long time. We have to try to get pregnant to begin with, let alone the pregnancy, and Andy will definitely be well over two no matter what. And I don’t know. I was watching him tonight, and I had this sense of readiness that I hadn’t felt quite yet.”

“Darling,” he sighs, bringing her hands up to his and brushing his lips over her knuckles, “if you want to have another baby, all you have to do is say that. You don’t have to give me a bulleted list of reasons.”

“I want to have another baby.”

“Well there we go then,” he laughs, his heart calming in his chest even with his excitement, before smiling down at her. “You want to have another baby, and I want to have another baby too, by the way. Though I only get to participate in the fun stuff at first. You’re the one who has to carry all of the weight.”

“Literally.”

He chuckles under his breath before he leans forward and quickly slides his lips over Emma’s, a surprised gasp escaping her that makes his entire body shiver in anticipation and pleasure and every other wonderful thing he doesn’t have the mind to think of right now. Emma yawns in the middle of the kiss, and he breaks them apart with another laugh as she yawns right in his face like the graceful woman she is.

She’s exhausted, and as happy and as excited as he is right now, he doesn’t want to keep her up.

“Why don’t we go to sleep tonight, and when we wake up, we can practice a little, and then we can have a little more serious talk about everything?”

“That sounds like a plan. God knows that you need the practice.”

-/-

“Are you two okay competing against each other?” Robert asks as he leads them across the facility’s grounds, the water of the bay coming into view the longer they walk.

“Absolutely.”

“Of course.”

They’re out touring a facility that helps people of all ages learn that spending time outdoors doing something physical, whether that be gardening, sailing, or taking a walk, can be beneficial for both physical and mental health. With as many formal dinners and events as she goes to, even knowing their importance, she can’t help but prefer things like this. Yes, she has to watch what she says and how she acts, but she’s not making sure that she doesn’t offend someone by accidentally calling them the wrong name. She’s getting to wander around and listen to a guide as the sun beats down on them despite the chilly February weather.

Plus, she gets to work with Killian, and unless he’s being particularly annoying, those are her favorite kinds of engagements.

Robert claps his hands together while he laughs at them, apparently surprised that they want to compete against each other. He’s obviously new since she’s pretty sure that she and Killian use every chance they get to go up against each other when they’re out doing something athletic.

(She nearly always wins, and she’s going to choose to think that it’s completely on her own merit.)

“Okay then,” Robert sighs, waving someone over. “We’ll do team Duke and team Duchess. If you guys want to put on the jackets, we’ll get you loaded up onto the boats.”

She’s handed a pullover with her name on the back, and she pulls it over her head, fluffing out her hair before pulling it up in a ponytail and asking if anyone has a baseball cap as well to shield herself from the wind. Not surprisingly, they do, one that matches her pullover, and she quickly tucks her hair into it before she’s guided off onto a sailboat and shown around the deck while Killian does the same on his boat.

“Who do you think is going to win the race, love?” Killian shouts from his boat, the winds whipping around them and muffling his voice. “Because I feel like my crew is top notch. Plus, I do know how to sail.”

“Why don’t you brag a little more, babe?”

“I definitely will.”

She rolls her eyes before turning back to Linda and John who have been showing her around. “We can beat him, right? Because, well, he’s going to be a pain about it if we don’t.”

“Yes, Your Highness. We can beat him.”

“Please,” she laughs, reaching up and tugging at her ponytail again, “you can call me Emma since you’re going to help me beat my husband’s ass.”

She hears everyone laugh at her, and for a minute, blush rises to her cheeks when she realizes she cursed. She knows that it’s not that big of a deal, that it’s normal, but people probably don’t expect that from her. She’s been in this family for over three years now, and if people don’t know that she’s going to be a little different yet, they’re never going to know. Besides, today is supposed to be fun. She’s going to have fun.

The wind whips through her hair as the boat glides through the water, and while she feels like she’s supposed to be doing something other than sitting and watching everyone else move, she doesn’t really know what’s going on. She feels a bit seasick if she’s honest with herself, but she always feels that way whenever she’s on a boat, especially the smaller ones. Instead of worrying about any of that, though, she keeps an eye on Killian’s boat, watching him move around with such grace, and if a small part of her kind of hopes that Killian trying to help will slow them down.

It doesn’t.

It helps his team, and despite the fact that it should at least be a close race, it’s definitely not, Killian’s boat crossing the marker first. His cheer reaches her over the waves, and she rolls her eyes. He’s going to be such an asshole about this.

Maybe she should have helped. Who is she kidding? What in the world does she know about sailing besides the few things Killian has told her? She probably would have capsized them.

When her boat finally makes its way across the markers, her team slowly guides her next to Killian’s, and he holds his hand out to help her switch over to his boat.

“So, darling,” he smirks, holding his hands on her hips, fingers stretching out over her jeans, “you still think you’re going to win against me?”

“Shut up.” She shakes her head and slaps his shoulder, hitting a little harder than she should. “You’re such a sore winner.”

“Better than being a sore loser.”

“Which I am not.”

“I need to get a few pictures of you two,” Isabelle calls out, her face nearly green from the water. They put the poor woman through so much, and they really should get someone else to help out when they’re dealing with water. It is just not her thing.

“Okay, love.” Killian releases her hips and wraps his arm around her waist, tugging her into his side. She’s smiling like she always does, just a normal picture, but when she turns to the side, she can see that Killian is holding his finger up to show that he’s number one.

The asshole. “You are such a child.”

He tugs on the bill of her hat, obscuring her view for a minute. “A child but a winner.”

They’re guided back to shore, everyone moving from the unstableness of the boats to solid ground, and she understands Isabelle a bit after she starts walking a bit and hasn’t quite gotten her land legs back. It was only a few minutes, but damn.

For the next few hours she and Killian are guided throughout the facility, listening to volunteers and employees, and toward the end, they even get to play a little football with some of the kids. A young girl she was playing football with comes up to her with a timid smile and something in her hands. When she holds it out, Emma can see that it’s a small football jersey with Andy’s name written across the top. They must have had this made when they made she and Killian’s pullovers. It’s sweet that they did this, and she feels tears prick behind her eyes for a moment.

“This is for Prince Andrew,” she tells Emma, holding it up a little further. “Mr. Heathrow told me to give it to you.”

She squats down so that they’re eyelevel, taking the jersey and admiring it. It’s far too big for Andy, but he can grow into it. “Thank you, sweetheart. Andrew will love it. I’ll be sure to tell him that you gave it to me for him.” “Thank you.”

Emma gives her a quick hug, and the girl runs off before she can even ask her name. a heavy weight drops in her stomach for a moment, but she lets it go, ignoring it and choosing to think about how good today is, how fun it’s been as she blinks away the tears. Walking over to Killian who’s just finishing talking to a group of boys, she holds it up and shows it off with a smile stretched across her lips. “Isn’t this cute?”

“Adorable. He’s going to love that, especially because he’s really into blue lately.”

“I know, right?”

When they get home later that afternoon, she immediately changes out of her clothes and puts on some pajamas before walking back downstairs to spend some time with Killian and Andy who is now wearing the oversized jersey. He looks absolutely adorable, and she smiles to herself despite the niggling feeling that’s still tugging at her.

“Mummy look,” he giggles before he runs (at least, it’s a bit of a run, but he’s not even eighteen months so she doesn’t expect much) to her and holds his arms out so she can pick him up, spinning him around the slightest bit.

“What am I looking at, Andy?”

“Shirt,” he sighs, tugging at his jersey. He’s got the most adorable little voice, and she can’t wait for him to start talking more so she can hear his accent a bit more. She doesn’t know how she never thought about the fact that her child would have a British accent like his dad and literally everyone else around her but her father, but when she realized it, she couldn’t stop smiling. It may be the cutest thing she’s ever heard, and she could listen to him babble forever. Her little boy.

“It’s beautiful, baby.” She moves with him to sit down on the couch next to Killian who’s already got Mickey Mouse playing on the television. “Mommy missed you today. Who did you spend the day with?”

“Elsa.”

“What’d you guys do? Did you play?”

“Yes.”

“And did you miss me?”

“No.”

“Hey,” she laughs, tickling his stomach so he laughs. “That’s not very nice, my sweet, sweet boy.”

“Darling, he’s going to say no to half of your questions.”

“I know, I know. But I’m going to tease my munchkin because I know that he missed me. And maybe you.”

“So kind.”

“Always.”

They watch TV with Andy for a little while, talking to him and trying to coax more words out of him as they unwind for the day before they feed him dinner and get him bathed to go to sleep. She watches as Killian reads to him, elaborating the voices of all of the characters as he makes the book come to life. Not every moment is quiet and cute like this. There are more gross things than she cares to talk about or think about, and she doesn’t even want to begin with talking about tantrums, but sometimes she gets moments like this where everything is so perfect that she can’t believe it. Watching her husband be a good dad when she sees so many horrible ones out there, she can’t even describe it.

A sob rises in her throat, sudden and overwhelming, and her eyes tightly shut, everything darkening for a few moments while she tries to calm herself down. Now is not the moment for this, but she knows that it’s been building all day, for days really, and as her chest heaves, she quietly excuses herself to walk the few steps to their room while Killian’s voice continues to fill her ears as he reads to Andy. It’s usually such a soothing thing, but right now she doesn’t want to hear it.

She doesn’t want to hear anything, even as her thoughts loudly reverberate in her head, so she crawls into bed herself, pulling the comforter up over her even though she won’t go to bed for hours.

She’s exhausted, but she’s not tired, and even with how good of a day she had, it might as well have not happened. God, she’s pathetic, but she can’t help how she’s feeling.

“Emma.”

She looks toward the door when Killian is standing with his shoulder pressed against the frame, his eyes narrowed and lips pursed as he stares at her.

“Emma,” he repeats, still not moving while she twists to her side and looks up again from where her head is resting on the pillow, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You want to try that again?”

“No because you’re going to think that I’m crazy.”

“Hey,” he sighs before stepping toward her and settling down on the mattress beside her while his hand runs up and down her side over the comforter, “I think you’re crazy at least three times a day, but I promise you that anything that makes you cry like this – I could never think that you’re crazy. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I just,” she sobs, curling into herself and looking up at Killian and his damn eyes that hold so much emotion in them that she starts sobbing more. How can he be so understanding when she’s having a meltdown, when he doesn’t even know what’s going on? “I just don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand, Emma?”

“I d-don’t…I don’t understand why this is so hard, why I’m not pregnant yet. Andy was so much easier. We weren’t even trying yet. I was on birth control, and it still happened. We’ve been trying for months and nothing. I feel like such a failure.”

“Hey,” Killian soothes, twisting and awkwardly turning until he’s lying on his side and wrapping his arms around her as much as he can, his warmth only keeping away her shivering for a moment. She’s so damn cold, and she’s not sure she’s ever going to feel warmth ever again, not when she can’t spend a day out that’s supposed to be fun thinking all about how frustrated she is. “Darling, you could never be a failure. Ever. You aren’t doing anything wrong. This just happens sometimes, and it’s not your fault.”

“I know. I know that, and I feel crazy.”

“You’re not crazy. I promise you that.”

“I’m tired,” she sighs, trying to regulate her breathing while Killian’s nose presses into her cheek, a comforting presence if she’s ever felt one. “I’m so tired of being disappointed and taking these tests and not being pregnant. I didn’t even really like being pregnant half of the time, and suddenly it is all I can think about. All I could think about today when we spent time with all of those kids was how much I wanted another one, who much I wanted them to have given us another jersey to match Andy’s”

She feels his lips against her forehead, and it only makes her wipe her tears into his shirt while his hands keep moving, the friction and warmth impossibly spreading inch by inch. “We’re going to have another baby, Emma. It’s going to happen if we keep trying, and I am so sorry that you are feeling so down about it right now. I love you more than anything, and I hope you never forget that. I hope I never let you forget that.”

“I love you too,” she sniffs, pulling back from him and sliding her lips over his. She can taste the salt from her tears, and she hates it. She hates it, but it’s where they are. “I’m sorry I missed the rest of the book.”

“No, don’t do that, love. You’ll be there for all of the other bedtimes and stories, and if you want, I will go get it and read it to you right now, all of the voices included free of charge.”

She sniffles and shakes her head from side to side, the smallest of smiles forming as her lips tug up on the sides. “I don’t think that’s necessary. You’re a good dad. You know that, right? Like, I tell you that enough?”

“You do, but it’s always nice to hear.” His eyes are watery, likely matching hers, and she doesn’t know if it’s from this or from something else entirely. “And I know for a fact that I don’t spend nearly enough time talking about how you are the best mum, wife, and friend. Seriously, love. You are the greatest thing to ever happen to me, cheesiness and all, and you have helped to give me the life of my dreams. All I want is for you to be happy."

“I am. I’m just – ”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he promises, his eyes closing and his lashes landing against his cheeks in a move that is so Andy it hurts even as he soothingly rubs his hand up and down her back. “It’s going to be okay.”

And it is.

#second in command #cs fic cs ff #captain swan #captain swan fic

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that-shamrock-vibe · 5 years

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St. Patrick’s Day: Celebrating Irish Culture

It’s that time of year again where for one day in the 365 rotation, the people of Great Britain are given an excuse to drink to excess and penalize anyone who forgets to wear green. For us who have Irish heritage we often treat is as both a serious and lapse event, we still get drunk but feel it is our duty as Irishmen and Irishwomen to do so.

However, unlike other religious holidays such as Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving for our American cousins, the religious foundations of this day have long been lost and only really celebrated by those devout to religion.

This, fortunately, does not concern me as I am not religious. However I have recently been feeling an itch to learn more about my Irish roots and maybe it is just the time of year or the fact I have been feeling rather reflective lately, but I thought I may as well start this journey by talking about what I do know to the faceless masses online.

My Heritage:

Okay so I know I am 1/4 Irish on my father’s side, my granddad is fully Irish as are my 9/10 great-uncles and great-aunts. I know the names of two of them but to be clear I do not come from the type of family where all the extended family is known.

In total I know I have a mum, dad, sister, brother, 3 uncles, two sets of grandparents a cousin and just under a dozen great-aunts and uncles collectively from both sides. I know for a fact my dad’s side of the family is expansive from my nan’s funeral but the only ones I could point out there are the great-uncle I know and my second cousin(?) who I only met there and who was absolutely wasted. No one does a funeral better than the Irish.

I also know my great-aunt on my mum’s mum’s side (her sister) has a daughter and granddaughter, aside from that and the fact my cousin is pregnant I am at a loss to where everyone else is on my family tree.

I also know I am from Irish descent on my mother’s side as my great-great-great grandmother is Irish to some degree and her daughter and my great-great grandmother hails from Ireland but again no one living knows the actual heritage there. Either way for me it’s very little but adds to what I already have from my dad’s side.

In the grand scheme my heritage doesn’t mean anything really. To my knowledge our family is not religious, my dad essentially denounced god when my brother died and aside from attending a religious youth group during our pre-teen years, my sister and I have never had an interest in religion. I am Pagan and more specifically Wiccan but at this point in time not practicing and the only things I worship at the moment are JustEat or alcohol.

It’s also note-worthy that I didn’t grow up surrounded by my dad’s family, as mentioned earlier the first time I met the mass of them was at my nan’s funeral back in March 2013 and that became a drunken haze which didn’t really include much socializing. Because of this, and because I have moved cities a few times in my life, I haven’t got a natural brogue more commonly known as an Irish accent.

Interestingly though, because of being brought up in the generation where TV raised us, which took place the generation before any screen raised kids, I have adopted a very fractured Irish accent which only comes out in certain situations such as when I converse with other Irish people and almost catch their accent. Also certain words and phrases I say in everyday conversation will sound Irish, words like “Word(s), World and generally words containing that “or” sound will come out as Irish.

Irish Folklore:

There is a lot to be said about Irish folklore also, not least about the legendary creatures the country is for, specifically Leprechauns and Banshees.

For instance, I always believed that my sister was a banshee because when she used to get angry her shrieks were earsplitting. There is an old wives tale of if Irishmen were to track their family history back long enough, they would discover they had a banshee as an ancestor. Some tales about banshees believe that their physiology is a curse that is passed down through the generations. So it stands to reason that my sister could very well be a banshee.

Leprechauns meanwhile are supposed to be creatures of luck that travel on rainbows and continuously recite limericks. If one is caught then he is supposed to lead you to their pot of gold which is traditionally said to be at the end of the rainbow.

While there are many other creatures and tales in Irish folklore, such as Selkies which are essentially Celtic Mermaids, none of them are really as talked about or celebrated as the aforementioned two creatures and St. Patrick’s Day.

The only other mainstream celebration in folklore other than the three is the symbolism of the lucky four-leaf clover which when in possession of an individual is meant to grant said individual luck. This is also a reason as to why clovers and shamrocks are often used as visual representations for luck.

Who’s Dublin Got:

So as I mentioned before, my dad’s side of the family hails from Dublin and when I mentioned that to a classmate, his response was to ask “What is there in Dublin?”. My first response was to retort with “More than Hull” but I thought better of it and instead decided to educate both him and myself.

When it comes to famous people from Dublin, there are some I know are from Dublin and some I had to research. For instance I know the singers Danny O’Donoghue, Sinead O’Connor, Nicky Byrne and Brian McFadden are from Dublin. The latter two of whom are/were members of Westlife which is a boy/man band based in Dublin. Their manager Louis Walsh is also from Dublin and his pets Jedward are also from there, those two aren’t the best of examples but I digress.

In terms of acting talent, Colin Farrell, Poldark’s Aidan Turner, Game of Thrones’ Aidan Gillen, the Gleeson family consisting of actors Brendan, Domhnall and Brian are all from there as well as Sherlock’s Andrew Scott and Michael Gambon.

What It All Means:

So what being Irish means to me, in terms of looking deep and not just saying it’s an excuse to drink, wear green and say a few stereotypical one-liners, is more of a sense of longing to belong. Because I have never been around the Irish congregation of my family for longer than a funeral and I haven’t even been to Ireland I literally just have the superficial Irish tropes which everyone simply believes I am playing up rather than being genuinely Irish.

As mentioned before, I don’t have an actual Irish brogue and have traces which when they appear I get told I am putting it on...I am not. Yes I like to drink, particularly Guinness, whisky and gin, yes I like the colour green and cannot remember where the favoritism started. All I know is green is great and green suits me. But I don’t just want to be a stereotypical Irishman.

My ambition in life has always been to travel, one place of interest for me to visit is definitely Dublin to get a feeling of my heritage and my family history.

So in conclusion, I want to thank everyone who has made it this far down and say that while this has been quite a deep and personal post it is also something I hope brings some poiyancy and food for thoughts.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, drink, be merry, stay safe and have a think about what these days and traditions really mean to you. In the mean time post your comments and check out other posts.

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pamphletstoinspire · 6 years

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A Padre Pio Inspirational Story __________

“Let us always keep before our eyes the fact that here on earth we are on a battlefield and that in paradise we shall receive the crown of victory; that this is a testing-ground and the prize will be awarded up above; that we are now in a land of exile while our true homeland is Heaven to which we must continually aspire.” – St. Pio of Pietrelcina __________

Memories of Padre Pio

Joe Peluso was an American soldier who was stationed in Italy during World War II. One day he received a letter from his mother and she told him that there was a holy priest named Padre Pio living in Italy. She did not know what part of Italy he lived in but she wanted Joe to find out and to visit him. Joe asked the military chaplain on the base if he knew anything about Padre Pio. The military chaplain started laughing and pointed to the mountain that was directly in front of them. “Padre Pio lives right on that mountain,” he said to Joe. Curiosity got the better of him and Joe decided to make the short trip to see him. It was October 6, 1944.

Padre Pio loved the visits of the American soldiers and always greeted them cordially. His counsel to the soldiers was unique. He used simple and childlike words when talking to them and giving them advice. Sometimes he would pat them on the head in a paternal way and simply say, “Be a good boy.”

Over the next ten months, Joe was able to visit Padre Pio many times and they became very close. Often he was invited to eat with the Capuchins at the monastery. While everyone else enjoyed their food, Joe noticed that Padre Pio simply pushed his food around on the plate. His daily intake of food would only fill the cup of his hand. He once said, “I need very little of this world’s goods. I need just a little bit of food, a little sleep and few possessions.”

It was Padre Pio’s habit to give each visitor a religious medal when they came to the monastery. Because of the war, religious medals and rosaries became scarce and almost impossible to acquire. Padre Pio felt very bad that his supply of medals was exhausted and he had none to give his visitors. Mary Pyle and Joe talked about it and Joe wanted to help. He decided to take the 220-mile trip from his military base to Rome to try to obtain the medals. Padre Pio and Padre Pio’s brother Michael both gave him letters to deliver to their sister, Sister Pia. She was a nun of the Order of St. Bridget and lived in the Brigittine Convent in Rome.

When he arrived in Rome, something prompted him to follow a road leading up a hill. As he drove up the hill, he saw a large sign, Cloistered Motherhouse of the Benedictine Nuns. Joe remembered that the St. Benedict medals were a favorite of Padre Pio. Joe knocked on the door and the nuns were extremely happy to give him a large supply of medals for Padre Pio.

Once Padre Pio asked Joe to select a name for his guardian angel. “Pick a name for your guardian angel and call him by that name always,” Padre Pio said to Joe. “When you send him to me, he will come instantly.”

One day Joe asked Padre Pio if he would accept him as his spiritual child. Padre Pio readily agreed. Then he asked him if he would accept his wife as his spiritual child and he agreed as well. Realizing the wonderful opportunity, he then asked Padre Pio if he would accept his daughter. Joe’s aunts and uncles then came into his mind. Somehow, the way the conversation was going struck both of them as funny. Joe and Padre Pio began to laugh. They laughed so hard that tears were rolling down their faces.

Suddenly Padre Pio became very serious and said to Joe, “Joe, when the war is over and you return to the United States, tell the American people, that for those who would like me to be their spiritual father, my answer is yes. I accept all Americans as my spiritual children. I only have two requirements — that they lead very good Catholic lives and that they regularly receive the sacraments. And please, tell them never to embarrass me in front of Jesus and Mary. You must tell them, Joe.”

Joe felt that it was an impossible request. He lived in a very small town in Pennsylvania. He was not an important person. He did not know many people. How could he tell all of America what Padre Pio had asked him to? Nevertheless, when he returned to the U.S. he tried to do what was asked of him. He made a slide show presentation of Padre Pio’s life and over the years he showed it to thousands of people. Joe died in 1996, after having spent 50 years sharing the message of Padre Pio with more people than he could have ever imagined.

“Remember, I accompany you always and everywhere.” – St. Pio of Pietrelcina ______________________________

A Letter from Padre Pio to Padre Benedetto

Padre Pio wrote the following letter to his spiritual director, Padre Benedetto Nardella, concerning a vision he had regarding World War I. This divine visitation seemed to signal the approach of peace.

“In one of the visits I had from Jesus recently, I asked Him more insistently to have pity on the unfortunate nations so sorely tried by the misfortune of war and to let His justice give place at last to His mercy. Strange to say, He made no reply except a sign with His hand which meant, ‘Slowly, slowly’ . . . What on earth does this mean, dear Father? I myself cannot tell you. However, I can tell you this, that whenever I had spoken to the Lord previously about the war, He gave me no sign that I can recall, but always kept complete silence . . . Does it mean that He himself means to intervene to calm this worldwide upheaval? May He be pleased to do so without delay.” – Letters I, December 19, 1917 ______________________________

Maria Pompilio who was one of Padre Pio’s spiritual daughters, left this testimony.

“At the end of Padre Pio’s Mass one morning toward the end of 1919, a number of people gathered around Padre Pio. By my side was a man who looked fixedly at Padre Pio. He said breathlessly, “Oh God, it is him, truly him. I am not mistaken.” The man began crying and fell to his knees. He said, “Padre Pio, thank you for saving me from death! Thank you!” Padre Pio put his hands on the man’s head and said, “You must not thank me, my son. Thank our Lord and the Virgin of Graces.” They spoke together in an undertone for a few minutes. Padre Pio then went to the choir to pray.

Several men who were nearby questioned the man about the words that Padre Pio had spoken to him. I was also present and the man told us the following story: “I was a Captain in the infantry, and one day on the battlefield, during a terrible hour of fighting, a little distance away from me, I saw a delicate, pale friar with beautiful, expressive eyes. He was not dressed as a chaplain but as a simple friar and he hurriedly and gently called to me saying, “Captain, move away from that place. Come to me quickly.” I ran toward him and had not even reached him when, in the place where I had previously stood, a grenade exploded, opening up a pit. If I had been there, my body would have been blown into the air in shreds. I wanted to thank the little friar who had called me, but he was no longer there. He had disappeared without my realizing it and even though I looked around for him I never saw him again.

On the same day that my life was saved, another person told me that a beautiful monk had saved him from death as well. Other soldiers at the Italian base said they had seen a friar among them who looked toward Heaven and prayed. One of these soldiers said that the priest who had been on the battlefield was Padre Pio who lived in San Giovanni Rotondo. I wanted to come here and see if he was the friar who had saved me as his face remained imprinted in my mind. Now I know that it was him. You can imagine what gratitude I feel toward this holy priest. I am happy to have been able to thank him personally and to kiss his hand.” – Maria Pompilio ______________________________

My name is Jim Cunningham. I was born in 1924 and was in the military during World War II, stationed in Foggia, Italy. I was assigned to a photo reconnaissance squadron and I heard about Padre Pio from the townspeople in Foggia. One day I decided to visit him so I took two other G I’s with me and drove a military jeep up the mountain to the monastery. It was in 1945 and I was twenty-one years old. I attended his Mass and felt very fortunate as all of the soldiers that were present were invited to sit right up on the altar, very close to Padre Pio. I was able to clearly see the wounds on his hands. Seeing his devotion at Mass was a very moving experience. He celebrated Mass in such a way that I was able to comprehend the sacredness of the Mass. His whole being inspired me.

Padre Pio was a very humble man and at the same time he was open and friendly. I had learned that Padre Pio liked grapefruit juice, so on my second visit to San Giovanni Rotondo I brought some juice. I was able to go to San Giovanni three times to see Padre Pio.

Mary Pyle, Padre Pio’s secretary, invited me to lunch at her home. She told me that she had come to Italy from the U.S. just for a visit. Shortly after she met Padre Pio, she decided to stay permanently. Her esteem for him was such that she had a great desire to be near him. She stayed in San Giovanni Rotondo for the rest of her life. Mary’s life was one of complete dedication to Padre Pio. She helped him in so many ways.

Meeting Padre Pio and attending his Mass truly changed my life. It was a great blessing. I have never met anyone in my life who had such a great devotion to God. On a number of occasions I have been invited to church groups to speak about Padre Pio. Today I am 82 years old. Many years have gone by, but my wife and I still feel his presence with us. It is overwhelming. ______________________________

Father Joseph Pius Martin – who assisted Padre Pio for a number of years, received the following testimony from Kevin Patrick Fitzpatrick.

Kevin Patrick Fitzpatrick who worked in Manchester, England in 1947 became acquainted with a man who had been a soldier in the British Army during World War II. During their advance against the German Army, this soldier and the others in his company came to the area of San Giovanni Rotondo. For some days British artillery had been firing into the areas surrounding the friary, but to their amazement none of the shells were exploding. When British Intelligence officers questioned the local Italian people, they were told that this was not to be wondered at since a very holy priest, Padre Pio lived at the friary.

One of the British Army officers was staying at the friary. One night he heard a voice constantly calling out. He went to investigate to see where the sound was coming from. When he came to the door of Padre Pio’s cell, he heard Padre Pio praying the Glory Be to the Father. He repeated the prayer slowly, over and over again. The soldier was deeply edified. ______________________________

A Grace in Time of War

My brother was serving in the army and had been sent to Viet Nam. Every night our family prayed for his safe return. I carried Padre Pio’s photo with me and prayed to him often for my brother. I felt Padre Pio’s presence with me and shortly after that, my brother wrote to say he would be coming home. When he did come home, he was a different person. After that terrible war he became more quiet and serious. We never asked questions about his experiences and he never spoke much about it. He did mention one experience which seemed very peculiar to him. He said that one day his company was sent ahead of the others to check for the Viet Cong. They were looking through the bush with their guns, when suddenly all of the soldiers smelled the fragrance of roses. They kept saying “Where are the rose bushes? It sure smells good out here.” They never did find the rosebushes and were sent back to camp. Another company was sent out to inspect the same territory. How tragic to say that the company was ambushed and not one survived the attack. According to the calculations, the Viet Cong had been there lurking in the bush all along, when my brother and the others in his company were in that area. But for some strange reason, they were not attacked and they very easily could have been. I know it was Padre Pio who saved my brother’s life. – I. Ahmadzai ______________________________

A Letter from Padre Pio to Padre Agostino

“We are passing through a solemn hour. Up to the present we have not been involved in this grievous war which has now gone on for a year . . . We must all cooperate for the common good and make God’s mercy propitious to us in this difficult time, by humble and fervent prayer and by the amendment of our lives.

We must not be down-hearted, dear Father, or lack the filial confidence we owe to our God just because He appears to be angry with us. If it is to come to pass again today that he looked around at them with anger ( Mark 3:5) let us fully understand this. God still loves us, He is still merciful toward us. His looking around with anger, Father, is the language of His sorrowful love; this is the expression which comes from His sorrowing heart at the sight of our wickedness. These are the artifices to which His mercy resorts in order to stop us on our way to perdition. . . .” – Letters I, May 31, 1915

#padre pio

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1067

JANUARY 2020

Where did you go on new year’s?: I believe we only stayed home and had a big dinner with family. We’re usually home during the New Year since our rooftop already offers a fantastic view of the fireworks around the city and in Manila, and also because my dad usually isn’t home on December 31st/January 1st.

Who kissed you on new year’s? I didn’t kiss anyone when 2020 hit. Gab and I always celebrated holidays and spent weekends separately...in retrospect, both already should’ve served as a bit of a red flag for me.

Did you have a New Year’s Resolution this year? I didn’t. I thought I had it together. Oh well.

Does it snow where you live? It never snows here.

Do you like hot chocolate? It’s comforting and I order it a lot, but as I’ve said before I don’t like hot drinks haha. No restaurant or coffee shop serves lukewarm chocolate, so I usually just get an order of hot chocolate and then wait for it to considerably cool down.

Have you ever been to Times Square to watch the ball drop? I’ve never been to New York and they don’t show that program here.

Is January anything special to you? (Birthdays, Anniversaries, Vacations, etc.) My dad’s birthday is on the 31st. I also always remember my aunt and uncle’s wedding anniversary on the 11th since theirs has so far been the only wedding of an immediate family member that I’ve attended, and so I remember the preparations and the actual event being really hectic but fun.

FEBRUARY 2020

Were you single? No. I was in a happy, committed relationship at the time.

Who was your Valentine? My girlfriend at the time was, but I remember we agreed to make Valentine’s a little lowkey last year because we were both low on savings at the time. Still, she got me a street food bouquet and I got her a pretty flower bouquet in return. I think we also had an Italian dinner somewhere between Valentine’s Day and our anniversary.

When you were little did you buy Valentine’s for the whole class? No. I don’t see the point.

Do you care if the groundhog sees its shadow or not? I really don’t care about this in general. It’s not a thing we follow here.

What did you receive for Valentine’s day? Like I said, Gab went to my favorite street food stall and she manually made a bouquet herself, fancy paper and ribbons and all. The ~bouquet had chicken isaw, pork isaw, barbecue, Betamax, and Walkman in it, which are my favorites.

What did you give for Valentine’s Day? A big bouquet. She was shooting for a school requirement that day and was at her best friend’s house, so I spoke with that friend in secret so I can plan out a surprise visit and hand her the flowers.

Is February anything special to you? (Birthdays, Anniversaries, Vacations, etc.) I used to look forward to February because it was mine and my ex’s anniversary. I’m not threatened by the date this year and I will just make plans for myself. Or I can also ask Angela to hang out with me. Idk yet, but what matters to me right now is that I’m no longer sad about it.

MARCH 2020

Are you Irish? Not one drop of it in me.

Do you like corned beef and cabbage? I haven’t tried these together but I will sometimes eat my samgyupsal with cabbage, so I doubt this combo would be bad.

What did you do for St Patrick’s Day? We don’t celebrate that here.

Are you happy when winter is pretty much over? We also don’t have winter.

Is March anything special to you? (Birthdays, Anniversaries, Vacations, etc.) My late grandpa celebrated his birthday on the 11th. March will also forever be burned in my brain as the month that 2020 ended for me.

APRIL 2020

Do you like the rain? Love it. Rain makes me feel calm and peaceful.

Did you play an April fool’s joke on anyone this year? I don’t think so. I just enjoy watching prank videos on social media sometimes, but I don’t pull them myself nor is there anyone who pulls them on me.

Do you get tons of candy for Easter? That’s not really tradition here. Most families will just go to church on Easter Sunday, and only families with young kids will have Easter egg hunting games.

Do you celebrate 4/20? Nope. I celebrate the day afterwards, which is my birthday haha.

Do you love the month of April? I do get a childlike excitement for it every year because I always get excited for my birthday, no matter how small my plans may be for it in a given year. The only thing I hate about April is the weather, because this is when it starts to get unbearably hot in the country. Is April anything special to you? (Birthdays, Anniversaries, Vacations, etc.) My birthday, my parents’ anniversary, my brother’s birthday (at least I was excited for it until I stopped talking to him). April is also usually Wrestlemania month, and something I will always look forward to regardless of how detached I’ve gotten from pro wrestling.

MAY 2020

What is your favorite flower? Roses and peonies. Sunflowers make me feel hopeful, but I wouldn’t say they’re my favorite.

Finish the phrase “April showers…”: I don’t know.

Do you celebrate May 16th: National Piercing Day? That’s a day? I always remember May 16 as being Katreen’s birthday lol. Anyway, no I definitely do not celebrate it. I don’t even have piercings beyond my earlobes.

Is May anything special to you? (Birthdays, Anniversaries, Vacations, etc.) It’s my favorite cousin’s birthday. May also marks the end of the school calendar, so back in college I had always looked forward to the 3rd or 4th week of May. In 2020, Andi and I also wrapped up our thesis in May.

JUNE 2020

What year did/will you graduate from high school? I graduated in 2016. Happier, simpler times.

Did you do anything fun during this Month? I learned how to use iMovie so I can make a surprise birthday video for Gab, where I collated video greetings from her closest friends and also asked them to put photos they have with her in a Google Drive. That was exciting to learn and make, even though my efforts ultimately went to waste. We also got Cooper last June!!!!! when he was still a small small tiny bean of a pup, and I could still carry him with one hand.

Have a favorite baseball team? I don’t even know how baseball works.

Is June anything special to you? (Birthdays, Anniversaries, Vacations, etc.) Yeah used to be her birthday but I obvs can’t celebrate it with her anymore. Otherwise, pretty uneventful month overall.

JULY 2020

What did you do on the 4th of July? We don’t celebrate that here. This used to be the date of our Independence Day back when US still had a much tighter grip on us, but I believe a former President shifted it to a different date (the one we have now) to serve as a sign of our independence from that country.

Did you go to the fireworks? We don’t have fireworks on July 4th, nor do we have fireworks on our own Independence Day.

Did you blast the A/C all day? I wanted to but was not in the place to, given that I did not earn my own money yet to help with the bills.

Is July anything special to you? (Birthdays, Anniversaries, Vacations, etc.) Last year, my college graduation was held in July.

AUGUST 2020

Did you have a sunburn? No. No reason for me to get one considering I stayed at home from March to September, except for the time I went to the doctor in May.

Did you go to the pool a lot? I didn’t, but my parents did blow up the inflatable pool that we keep and placed it on the rooftop so that we can cool down. Summer this year was unforgivable.

Did you go out of town? I don’t believe we did in August.

Is August anything special to you? (Birthdays, Anniversaries, Vacations, etc.) My university-wide graduation. My school has quite a large population so we get two grads - a more intimate one with our own college where we can be called one by one to go up the stage; and a larger, more general, university-wide grad, where the university higher-ups and a chosen summa cum laude student make speeches and there are multiple music/dance performances.

SEPTEMBER 2020

Are you attending college/school? Not anymore.

Do you like fall better than summer? We don’t get fall.

What happened this month? Man you had 8 other months to ask this, why pick my worst month?? Lmao. September was the month of the quick deterioration of my relationship and its eventual breakup, my first job interview (that I got ghosted by), Nacho’s first death anniversary, opening my first bank account, and the start of my internship.

Is September anything special to you? (Birthdays, Anniversaries, Vacations, etc.): Angela’s birthday, my mom’s birthday, Nina’s birthday.

OCTOBER 2020

Whats your favorite candy? Fruitella. I got soooooo many Fruitella packs from my relatives this Christmas because that was what I put on my wishlist hahahahaha.

What was your favorite thing(s)about this month? October was terrible. The only thing that kept me alive was my internship and the people in it, our Halloween party, and Good Mythical Morning. But in general, September through the first half of December 2020 is a period I would like to bury permanently.

What are you planning to be for Halloween? I don’t have plans for Halloween 2021 yet.

Are you going to be trick or treating? Nope.

Is October anything special to you? (Birthdays, Anniversaries, Vacations, etc.): I don’t think so.

NOVEMBER 2020

Whose house do you go to for Thanksgiving? Sigh. I don’t care for Thanksgiving.

What are you going thankful for this year?: Too early to tell, but on the second day of the new year, so far, I’m thankful for the positive people around me, the kindness and patience they extend to me, and myself for powering through and living to see 2021.

Do you love stuffing? No but I’d like to try it.

Anything exciting happen this month? Again, November was still shitty times for me.

Is November anything special to you? (Birthdays, Anniversaries, Vacations, etc.): I got employed and started my first real job.

DECEMBER 2020

Do you celebrate Christmas? Yeah, but it clashes with my non-belief so it’s something I’m still figuring out.

Have you ever been kissed under the mistletoe? No.

Get anything special last year? I got one too many bottles of soju and packs of Fruitella, hahah. I also got the wooden portable table that I’ve been eyeing for a while.

What do you love most about December? THE HOLIDAY WORK BREAK ZZZZZzzzzzz I can’t believe it’ll be over soon :( I’m not yet ready to go back to work ugh.

Is December anything special to you? (Birthdays, Anniversaries, Vacations, etc.): Two of my aunts’ birthdays, my godson’s birthday, my grandma’s birthday, and get-togethers with different sides of my family.

#survey #surveys

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