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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years ago

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that makes four.

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PART 3

You hadn’t quite gotten used to being around Harry in the morning. What would typically be braless breakfasts on Saturday now had you wiping off any traces of mascara and at least throwing on a sports bra before you descended the stairs and turned on the keurig.

But on the morning of what would have been his last day, you came down to hear pots and pans already clanging together and giggles escaping the kitchen.

When you rounded the corner, CeCe was sitting on the counter, Maeve was trying to pour orange juice, and Harry was manning the waffle iron with a bowl of batter by his side.

“Morning,” you said with a suspicious glance. “What’s all this about?”

“Happy birthday!” CeCe smiled, excitement on her face when she turned to see you.

“My birthday’s not for another four days,” you reminded them, a kiss to her forehead when Harry offered a sheepish grin.

It had been long approaching, and thirty-two felt like a number you’d been avoiding in more ways than one. Turning thirty-two probably sounded like no big deal to everyone else. But being a newly-divorced single-mom who’d just lost her father and main support, having a birthday felt like a cruel way for the universe to remind you of all of your failures.

“Right,” Maeve said, “but it’s a Thursday, and we figured we wouldn’t be able to do all of this before school, so,” she shrugged innocently, Harry smiled down at her when you took another look around the kitchen.

It was messy, dishes in the sink and CeCe’s hands looked sticky. Maeve had her hair up but the batter was smeared on her forehead. Harry watched you glance around, his eyes expectant when you then asked: “Can I help?”

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head, amused by your obvious discomfort. “S’not what birthday girls do.”

He shooed you away once Maeve came over and tugged at your arm. “Here,” she said, “come sit and watch TV and I’ll make you coffee.”

“Let Harry make it,” you encouraged, unsure if she’d dump the whole sugar bowl in or spill half and half all over the counter.

“Mom, stay out of it, okay?” She rolled her eyes when she pushed the remote in your face. You looked over your shoulder quickly, shocked by the sight of a man with your daughter by his side, laughing and seemingly enjoying himself.

“Roger that,” you nodded, uncomfortable with the swelling of your heart at the sight of it. CeCe giggled and Maeve hurried back over, laughing when Harry let out a playful yelp at the heat from the waffles as he put them on a plate.

It took them a minute to get everything together, and right when your mug of coffee was returned (a little sweet, but you’d live), the doorbell rang and Maeve jumped into action. She pulled the door open to reveal Tristan, eyebrows arched high on his forehead when realized it wasn’t just any Sunday morning.

You were already on your feet to greet him, worried about the current state of your kitchen but also worried about the type of interaction might occur between your right hand man and the guy in an apron with CeCe tugging at his sleeve.

He’d been asking a lot of questions, his penchant for all things pop culture left him curious (or just nosy) about the current living situation in your new house. You were surprised, quite honestly, that it took him this long to pop over unannounced just to get a peek behind the curtain.

“Well hello” he looked around, a smirk on his face when his eyes settled on you. “Quite the morning we have here.”

“It’s mom’s birthday breakfast,” Maeve informed him, scurrying off to help her accomplices when you greeted him with a hug.

He kissed your cheek and shut the door behind himself. “A few days for you to panic, still, right?”

“Panic?” Harry called over his shoulder, his role more passive now that Maeve was worried about the presentation of the waffles on a ceramic plate.

Tristan took that as his cue to stick out his hand, head for the kitchen, and smile: “Nice to meet you, I’m Tristan. Second in command at Luna Skincare.”

“Harry,” he greeted, voice a good octave lower than Tristan’s and a firm enough handshake that made Tristan blush. “I’m just the house guest.”

“So I’ve heard,” Tristan winked in his direction.

“Alright, why are you here?” You tried to pull his attention away from the attractive man in your kitchen, a loud sip of coffee when he made a face at you.

He pushed a folder into your hands. “Sorry to show up unannounced." (He wasn't.) "But I wanted to show you these. Mock ups for the new body wash debut. Don’t know how I feel about those bottles, but, your call.”

You took it, opened it with one hand and let him thumb through some pages for you to see. The body wash debut was a long time coming--only about a month away and as always, it seemed to come at the best and worst time. Spring was always busy, you always launched something exciting and then CeCe’s birthday was in April. Then school got out in late May and there were plays and dance recitals and everything seemed to happen at once.

But spring was the perfect time for launches--sunshine, warmer weather, less rain in LA and people were typically ready to start spending money to prep their skin for summer.

“I kind of like them,” you looked up at him, voice hesitant when you showed them to Maeve.

“Clean lines, modern branding,” she nodded, coming back to stand beside you. “I like them too.”

“The council has spoken,” Tristan nodded, taking the folder back. “I’ll get back to them tomorrow morning and have them send a few samples over for us to see in person before we move to production.” He pulled out his phone and typed a few things into a note, Maeve tugged at your sleeve.

“Are you going to eat?”

“Yes, let’s offer something to our guest, though, right?”

“Harry’s not a guest anymore,” she wrinkled her nose at you in confusion. “It’s been way too long to call him that.”

“I mean Tristan,” you clarified with a laugh, eyes glancing over to Harry to gauge a reaction.

He felt like a guest, sometimes--when he asked how to use the washing machine or when he asked if it was okay to use the pool. But seeing him make waffles with your daughters or sit on the couch to watch a movie with everyone after dinner made him feel like more of a friend. And thinking that made you feel insecure and stupid.

Harry’s brows arched in Tristan’s direction. “We do have plenty.”

“I’m stuffed,” Tristan waved him off. “Had an omelette and a green smoothie and now I’m off to a spin class--wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Says the man who shows up at my house before 9am on a Sunday with no notice,” you teased.

He held a hand to his hard for dramatic effect. “I just felt like this couldn’t wait.”

“Right,” you narrowed your eyes. “No other reason you needed to stop by.”

He laughed, Maeve was growing impatient and he could sense it, adjusted his messenger bag on his shoulder as he turned to head for the door. “Birthday dinner Friday night? I already made the reservation based on Zoey’s list of restaurants.”

“I will be there, unfortunately,” you teased. “Even though I said we don’t have to do anything special.”

“Friday night?” Harry inquired, eyebrows furrowed together when he moved to lean on the island.

“You should come,” Tristan decided, an enthusiastic nod in Harry’s direction. “Jeff will be there, Zoey--you’ve met Zoey, right?” Harry nodded but you cut them off.

“You don’t have to, Harry,” you said before turning to Tristan. “He’s probably busy.”

He didn’t have to, that part was true. But your hesitance was also because it felt like another blurred line. Was it weird for him to come? Was it weird for him to sit at a table with your friends and sing happy birthday like you hadn’t just met a few weeks prior?

“No, m’not busy. I was actually going to ask if you wanted me to stay with the girls.”

Another wave of butterflies in your stomach at his words, but Maeve derailed the conversation.

“I’m sleeping over Bella’s house,” she informed.

“Me too!” CeCe chirped with a smile.

“No you’re not,” Maeve shot back. “You’re not coming with me to a sleepover.”

Tristan declined Harry’s offer for you before you even had a chance to open your mouth.

“Do you know the woman? She can afford a babysitter. You should come, we’re gonna have an exquisite time!”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, hands in his pockets when he looked to you. “Is that alright?”

You weren’t going to say no. You weren’t going to stare him in the eyes and tell him he couldn’t come or tell him--in front of your daughters--that it felt weird for him to suddenly be more than just a house guest.

“Of course,” you nodded.

“Perfect,” Tristan smiled, “then I’ll see you on Friday,” he pointed at Harry and turned on his feet, a wave over his shoulders at the girls. “Bye my little devils!”

They both echoed a farewell when you turned to face them. “Okay,” you said, a nod to yourself more than to them. This was fine, it was fine for Harry to come along and spend time with your friends, right?

“Let’s eat already, I’m starving,” CeCe groaned. Maeve reached into the drawer and grabbed forks, Harry got the syrup and helped bring plates to the dining room table. The girls reached for waffles and CeCe let out a cry when Maeve took the one with sprinkles that she wanted.

“CeCe,” Harry reassured, “I made this one just for you. Lots of sprinkles,” he nodded, forking a waffle off of his own plate and onto hers.

She grinned from ear to ear and the butterflies reappeared. Maybe having him around wasn’t so bad after all.

Maeve’s sleepover fell through. Apparently Bella didn’t ask her mom in time and when Shelli arrived to pick up the girls for an exciting sleepover at Auntie Shelli and Uncle Irv’s, Maeve was less than thrilled.

The day of your birthday was less than exciting. Meetings in the morning, Tristan brought you a cupcake at lunch and you were doing your best to not honk aggressively loud in the pick up line that afternoon when someone nearly caused an accident.

Take out that night with the girls because you didn’t want to cook and Harry was busy--some sort of meeting with Jeff and other people. You were sat on the couch by 10pm with a glass of wine and for a second, you thought about waiting up for him.

A text at 10:15 informed that he’d probably stroll in after midnight. You climbed the stairs and felt hopeless and pathetic and entirely old. Even if everyone was telling you that you weren’t.

Now, Maeve was going on and on about how unfair it was that you didn’t ever let her stay home alone.

“One day will you let me?”

You gave her a sideways glance, secured an earring in place at your dresser and then turned to see her.

“One day--a long time from now.”

“A long time?” She asked, slumped over in a chair in the corner of your bedroom. “How long is long?”

“Maeve,” you let out a frustrated sigh, thankful for the fact that Shelli was more than fine to entertain CeCe downstairs while you finished getting ready and plastered enough deodorant to your armpits in hopes that you wouldn’t sweat through this dress. ��I’m not playing this game.”

“It’s not a game, it’s a question,” she shot back.

“When you’re fifteen maybe.”

“Fifteen?! That’s, like, five whole years from now!”

“I know,” you nodded, offering her some mock sympathy. “However will you survive until then?”

A knock on the open door, an awkward smile from Harry. “Hi, sorry to interrupt--you look beautiful.”

“Ew,” Maeve rolled her eyes but then didn’t say more when you shot her a glance in the mirror.

“Thank you,” you said awkwardly, resting a hand on your hip. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to say I’ll drive, if you want. That way you can, you know,” he held a hand up to his mouth and gestured throwing back a shot.

Maeve stared up at him, confusion etched on her face but then she looked to you. “So you can drink?”

Harry’s face suddenly looked guilty, his eyes wide when you let out a laugh.

“Yes, so I can drink. But only responsibly,” you informed her, a finger pointed in her direction before you nodded and obliged. “That would be great, Harry.”

If he was going to come, he might as well be useful. It wasn’t going to be that type of night, though. Thirty-two felt like it was way too old to get too drunk to drive or end up on a friend’s couch hungover in the morning.

This was just a birthday dinner, ten people total and fancy wine. You’d order dessert and be home by eleven.

Maeve lugged her overnight bag down the steps, complaining the whole way about Bella and dragging her feet out of the door and into Shelli’s car.

Shelli, who wrapped her arms around you and wished you a happy belated, kissed you on both cheeks and encouraged you to let loose. “You’re not old,” she smiled. “You’re mature, you’re settling into your life. You’ve got years ahead of you to be boring and tired.”

You smiled, let her hug you again when you said: “it’s just been a hard year.”

“I know,” she nodded, brushed your hair with her hand and gave you an extra squeeze. “And birthdays just make us look back at the last 365 days.”

You nodded when she let you go. She kept your hands in hers, though, ignored the way Maeve said something snotty to CeCe in the back seat. “But here’s to looking forward! To the next 365 days and to less headaches. I’ll keep these two under control and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Harry had wandered out now, sunglasses on to shield his eyes from the setting sun.

“Harry!” Shelli called him over. “Make sure Y/N has fun tonight.”

He let out a laugh but looked in your direction. “I can try.” He had the keys in his hand, pressed a button to make his car chirp to life when Shelli got in hers.

You bent down at the back window, reached in and pinched CeCe on the cheek. “Be good, okay?”

“You be good too, mommy,” CeCe smiled. They waved from the backseat when they pulled out of the driveway and you turned to see Harry, still standing with his sunglasses on a smirk on his face.

“What?”

“Is it really that hard to make you have fun?”

He walked towards his car, you followed his lead and prayed your heels would hold out on the pavement. “No,” you said with a certain level of defense. “She’s just teasing me.”

“Yeah?” He climbed in when you opened the door. You settled in beside him and felt a sudden urge to convince him.

“I’m a fun person, Harry.”

He smirked when he started the engine. “Never said you weren’t.”

“I just have responsibilities, you know? Two children--that clearly would kill each other with their bare hands if I weren’t watching.”

“Hmm, don’t think I agree with you on that one,” he laughed, the tires gripped the pavement of your street when he took off towards the restaurant. “I think they’re more tame than you think. In fact, I think you’ve gotten so connected to the role of mom that it’s hard for you to turn that off.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “You sound like a therapist.”

He shrugged, dimples on his cheeks when he stole a glance in your direction from behind his sunglasses. “Does that mean I’m right?”

“No,” you said, looking down at the bracelet on your wrist. “Not completely.”

Quiet for a few moments, a left turn signal before he looked at you again. “I think you’re super fun, by the way.”

You hated the way it made your pulse pick up, another smirk in his direction when you felt your cheeks turn warm and he let out a tiny laugh.

You were both quiet for the rest of the ride, he introduced himself to Zoey and joked with Jeff on the way to your table on the back patio of a restaurant in Brentwood. They’d put up balloons, a toast in your honor after other friends filed in.

Appetizers first, embarrassing stories from your high school friends who seemed to flutter their eyelashes in Harry’s direction. Jeff’s arm was around the back of your chair by the time your dinner plates were cleared.

“The only time I’ve seen you as excited was when our dads brought us backstage for the No Strings Attached tour.”

You shot Jeff a look quickly, hoping he wasn’t planning on launching into the same story he’d told a thousand times--if only to see the look on your face.

“Wait, you mean the NSYNC tour?” Harry was seated across the table, margarita in hand when he leaned in for more details.

“Oh god,” Zoey rolled her eyes when Tristan shook his head. “Not this story again.”

“You mean the greatest story ever?” Jeff leaned down and shot her a look.

“We’ve all heard it,” Tristan whined, “I could recite it as if I was there, honestly.”

Harry’s eyes met yours, a few glasses of wine deep as the tea lights above the patio flickered on. “I haven’t heard it.”

“You certainly don’t need to,” you pointed at him with a lazy finger.

“Were you even alive then?” Tristan laughed.

“For NSYNC?” Harry pulled his head back, “course I was! My sister was obsessed with them.”

“Okay, well the story is literally stupid. Jeff thinks it’s funnier than it is and all that happened--”

“I want to tell him!” Jeff reached over and smacked you on the shoulder, pulling an eye roll from you when the others let out a laugh. “She asked Justin Timberlake to sign her boobs in front of our dads and it was ridiculously uncomfortable for everyone.”

“I was fourteen,” you defended, a smile pulling your lips towards the sky. “And stupid and in love with him and I didn’t think they could hear us.”

“Right,” Jeff waved you off as if everything you said was totally valid. “But the best part is when her dad then goes: ‘if you sign hers, you have to sign mine, too.’”

Zoey let out a snort of a laugh and so did the others, Harry tried to fight a smirk when he looked your way.

Jeff could barely keep a straight face, “Justin Timberlake never seemed so intimidated in his life.”

“I can’t believe I haven’t heard that story before,” Harry said to Jeff, elbows on the table now. “I can’t believe Irv hasn’t made a thousand jokes about it.”

You sipped at your drink and narrowed your eyes at Harry. “Maybe he also blocked it out due to being traumatized by the embarrassment.”

“What year was that?”

“Summer of 2000,” you looked to Jeff. “Their prime, obviously not mine.”

“Oh it was most certainly not your prime.” He shot back with a laugh,

You gave him a shove. “It wasn’t yours either! Your hair was curly and not in the cool JT way.”

“I’ve seen some of those pictures,” Harry pointed at his friend. “She’s right--not in a cool way.”

Jeff played it off and shot something back at Harry, ordered you another drink when you tugged on a jacket in the cooler air. The waiter brought out a cake with sparklers on top, Zoey took a thousand pictures and wrapped her arms around you at the end of the night.

“I have a feeling thirty-two will be a much better year,” she assured.

“Here’s hoping,” you agreed, pulled apart from her when Tristan leaned in to kiss you on the cheek.

“Well, you have a chauffeur for the night, so you’re off to a good start,” he teased.

Harry held up his keys in his hand and raised his eyebrows in a cheeky way. “Door to door service, a good price. Definitely off to a good start.”

You climbed back into the front seat of his car after Jeff shoved the balloons in the back, told you to keep them for the girls. The car ride was quiet, he told you about his album and kept the windows half way down as you snaked back up into the hills. You weren’t wasted by any means, just tipsy and tired and full after good food and better friends.

You keyed into the house with the balloons in hand, Harry was behind you and flicked on a light switch downstairs. You kicked your heels off inside and let the balloons float into the living room. “Want a glass of wine?”

He looked in your direction after clicking his phone shut, eyebrows raised as if he didn’t quite know how to answer. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

“I’d have one if you would,” you shrugged, already walking to the kitchen to grab some glasses.

He smiled, came to the island and ran a hand through his hair when you uncorked a new bottle of Pinot Noir. When you handed him a glass, he clinked it against yours and took a sip.

“Happy Birthday,” he said.

“Don’t remind me,” you laughed.

“Oh come on, s’not that bad.”

“You turn thirty-two and then tell me that.”

“I’ll keep you posted,” he nodded. “Dinner was good though.”

“As good as it can be when you get that group of weirdos together,” you admitted, stem of the glass between your fingers when you headed for the couch. He watched you walk away, paused for a moment before he followed suit and sat a few cushions down on the oatmeal colored sofa.

“S’kind of funny that we hadn’t met before Jeff set this up,” he motioned around the living room as if to gesture to the living arrangement. “I mean--obviously I’d heard a lot about you.”

“Like what?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him as you sipped the wine again. “If not the most embarrassing story of my early teens--”

“Just that you were one of his closest friends. Probably heard just as much about you from Shelli and Irv, to be fair.”

“I think I’m their favorite child even though I’m not actually theirs.”

He laughed at that, lifted his glass as if to agree with you before he angled his body towards you. “What did Jeff ever say about me? Aside from making me sound homeless and pathetic.”

You shook your head a bit and tugged at the hem of your dress. “He didn’t make you sound like either of those.”

“Well you didn’t seem too eager to have me living here…”

He trailed off, like he was waiting for you to protest or something. When you fought a smile and looked up at him, he squinted suspiciously. “What?”

You hesitated, unsure if admitting it would do you any good. Things were starting to feel normal, almost like Harry had a place in your house or your life or like it at least wasn’t awkward to be sitting on the couch with him after a night out with friends.

“Oh it’s that bad? Hesitate before you tell me bad?”

You made a face and laughed, almost embarrassed. “I was mostly focused on the fact that you’re young and that you’d maybe be a bad influence on the girls. You know--the whole rock star vibe.”

He smiled, nodded after a second but then said: “do I pass the test?”

“There’s no test,” you rolled your eyes.

“Right,” he looked at you like you were crazy, a shit eating grin plastered on his face. “You expect me to believe that you didn’t make me meet you for coffee with Jeff that day to scope me out? Figure out if I was a total freak--”

You leaned back into the sofa and let out a playful groan. “I mean I was hoping you weren’t since Jeff always had such good things to say about you.”

He made you list them off, laughed at the fact that you thought you were too old or too uncool to come to the release for his first album. He poured you both another glass and smiled, hopefully you’ll come to the next one.

He showed you stupid videos from his time in his old band, listened to you talk about anxieties at work and how weird it felt to be in your dad’s house now.

“I mean, I’m glad we had a place to come.”

“Where’d you live before?”

“Woodland Hills,” you shrugged. “We bought a house there right after CeCe was born. It was nice, but too small and we obviously needed a change after I found him in bed with another woman in our bedroom there, so.”

Harry’s eyes went wide at that, he let out a laugh when you did, too. “Sounds miserable.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“And he’s not--does he see the girls ever?”

You bit your lip, moved your head from side to side and then sighed. “I mean--I asked if he could come to the funeral just to be with them and watch them since I was so busy, but he told me that he’d planned a weekend getaway with his new girlfriend in Malibu, so…”

“So he’s really a twat.”

You laughed at his word choice, British and confident when he nodded his head. “Yeah.”

“What’s his name again?”

“Luke.”

“Luke!” He scoffed and looked up the ceiling. “No wonder he was a twat.”

“Yep,” you nodded. “So it’s nice to be here.”

“I’m sorry that happened, by the way.”

You waved him off, finished the last of your wine and set the glass on the coffee table. “S’all good. Moving on to bigger and better things, right?”

“M’sure you can do better than someone who didn’t realize what a mistake he was making.”

You nodded slowly, dropped his gaze when you felt butterflies beneath your ribcage. You let out a breath, looked up to him. “I should probably head to bed.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, moved to stand from the couch and reached out for your wine glass. You handed it to him, ignored the way his fingers grazed against yours when he smiled. “Are you drunk?”

You hesitated to answer, followed behind him to the kitchen when he looked over his shoulder, waiting for your answer.

“Are you drunk?”

He pretended to be offended. “I asked you first!”

You lifted your shoulders and then giggled. “Yes, but in a good way.”

“Great, love that.”

“You have to answer, too!”

He turned around after he put the glasses in the sink. “After a bottle of wine here and a few margaritas at dinner? Of course I am,” he laughed. “Red wine goes straight to my head,” he pointed to his temple.

“Well,” you started to walk back to the living room for the stairs by your office, flipping off a few light switches along the way. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Yeah? You plan on getting me drunk again soon?”

“I didn’t get you drunk,” you pointed at him. “It’s my birthday dinner, remember?”

“Yeah--you’ve been throwing them back all night so I couldn’t forget.”

“From the guy who encouraged me to have fun tonight! I’ve been having a great time, totally relaxed, totally cool…”

“You have,” he laughed, his footsteps echoing on the stairs behind you. “Just like you were totally cool when you met NSYNC.”

“Hey,” you turned around quickly and laughed, a tad unsteady from the drinks and the time of night. “That is privileged and confidential information--not something you get to hold over my head!”

“Mmm, okay, so I can’t bring that up in front of Irv and Shelli?”

“Absolutely not,” you leaned against the door frame to your room. “Unless you want to never speak to me again.”

It was dark in the hallway, a glow from the lights on the first floor crept up the stairs when he held your gaze for a second.

“Wouldn’t want that,” he said, voice quieter now.

Your heart seemed to flutter, or maybe it was the alcohol or the fact that you were up way too late. “Mhm,” you paused, unsure of how to respond to the sudden shift in the air between you. “Then I suggest you forget that story.”

“Thanks for letting me come with you guys tonight.”

“Yeah,” you said, eyes down to the ground for a second, suddenly self conscious. Did he have a good time? Was it weird for him to come? “Thanks for driving.”

You didn’t have too long to dwell on the thoughts, though, because soon he stepped closer and let his mouth meet yours before you were able to bring a hand to his shirt, tugging him into you.

He pulled you closer, too, his hand on the small of your back before he pulled away. “Are you--is that--I should have asked first.”

“No,” you shook your head, the word sounded funny in your drunk brain. “I’m not mad about it.”

He let out a quiet laugh, kissed you again when you tugged him back into the room and shut the door with his free hand.

You stumbled backwards, laughed against his lips when he lowered you onto the bed. Greedy hands and desperate moans when he pulled away to tug down your panties. If your life had been a movie, there’d be a cut to the hands on a clock spinning while you giggled into his neck and felt your skin against his beneath the sheets.

But what felt like a dream could only last so long.

Your head shot up from the pillow when you heard it--the door opening and shutting, the beep throughout the house to let you know someone had arrived. Sun shone through the curtains and giggles floated up from the first floor, you heard Maeve tell CeCe something and then you heard footsteps on the stairs.

Morning, the night faded into sobriety and you rubbed your eyes. His face was barely visible beneath his messy hair and the sheet pulled up to his chin.

“Harry,” you shoved him, voice quiet but stern. “Wake up!”

He blinked a few times, squinted in the sunlight and you realized that an 8am wake up call might have been early for him, you know, since he was barely an adult.

“The girls are home,” you said when you shoved him again. “Which means Shelli is here, which means you need to get the hell out of my bed.”

His eyes opened wide at that, he pushed himself up and then scrambled out of the sheets when he heard footsteps in the hall. The door was locked, luckily, but the banging of little fists had you pushing Harry into your bathroom and telling him to not say a word.

He was sleepy, but his lips pulled into a smirk when he took one look at you half-dressed. There was no time for addressing the way his fingers pulled moans from your lips or the way he said he’d been waiting for this. No, because as soon as the thoughts of last night settled back into your brain, you tugged the door open to see your beautiful daughters smiling up at you.

“Good morning,” you said, voice cheery when you tugged a sweatshirt over your skimpy tank top. You forced a smile and Maeve seemed to narrow her eyes.

“You look messy.”

“I just haven’t brushed my hair,” you told her. CeCe pushed past you and ran straight for your bed, a cannonball of sorts into tangled sheets.

“We had the best time with Auntie Shelli and Uncle Irv!” She said, “we watched a movie last night mommy and I stayed up until ten o’clock.”

“You fell asleep on the couch,” Maeve corrected her. “I stayed up until almost eleven,” she bragged.

“That’s great,” you told them, heartbeat rising as you tried to search for a way out of this. “Girls, why don’t you go find Auntie Shelli and--”

“I’m right here, sorry, I hope they didn’t wake you,” she appeared in the doorway, pulling another forced smile from you when you turned on your heels. “Good morning,” she looked you up and down with a smirk, more perceptive than your daughters.

“Where’s Harry?” Maeve asked, crossing her arms as she relaxed back on top of your duvet.

“I don’t know,” you said quickly. “In his room.”

“Door’s open, he’s not there,” she answered.

“Maybe he went to stay at a friend’s house.”

“Oh--did he tell you that?”

“I don’t remember,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders, suddenly feeling put on trial by your ten-year-old.

Shelli had scanned the room, her eyes landing on the shoes by the foot of your bed that were clearly not yours. She smiled, nodded slowly and then said: “Girls, why don’t we go pick up donuts? We can bring some back for mom and she can take a shower and straighten up while we’re out?”

“Great idea,” you smiled, a hurried nod as you moved towards your daughters and ushered them out of your bed. “When you get back we can watch TV or go for a bike ride later today,” you were just throwing shit at the wall now, anything to get them out of your room and distracted enough to not realize that Harry’s shirt was on the floor beside his pants and that his bed hadn’t even been slept in.

“I want a jelly donut!” CeCe informed you when Shelli pushed them out into the hallway.

“Sounds great,” you smiled. “See you in a bit, okay?”

You mouthed a thank you to Shelli and she winked in your direction, a wave of nausea crashing into you once the door was shut. You rushed over to the bathroom door, pulled it open, and found Harry leaning against the wall with his head in his hands.

He looked up quickly at the sound, offered an awkward smile and said: “are you livid?”

You shook your head, unsure how to put your emotions into words but also aware of the fact that this was the exact reason why this should have never happened. You turned around and headed back for the bedroom, looked out the window near your closet to see Shelli helping the girls into the backseat.

“You’re not livid?”

“No,” you said, turning around quickly. “I just--I don’t know--that probably wasn’t a great idea.”

His face fell a little bit, arms crossed over his torso when he asked: “what do you mean?”

“Last night was fun, Harry, but I’m thirty-two. I’m a mom,” you said the word like it was embarrassing to admit.

He made a face like he didn’t get the point but then nodded. “I’m completely aware of both of those facts.”

“You’re twenty-four,” you reminded him. “That’s a seven year age difference.”

“Eight, now that your birthday passed,” he said this sheepishly, like he knew it would lead to another groan.

“Exactly!” You said. “That’s a big gap. I spend my weekends going to birthday parties and playdates. What do you even do? Go to clubs and hang out with millionaires?”

He let out a laugh. “I’ve been hanging out with your kids a lot on the weekends, to be honest.”

“Yeah, but, my kids almost just caught us in bed together and Jeff’s mom is definitely aware that something happened, now, so--”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

A moment passed when you heard the engine start.

“It was fun, though,” he said, a small step closer to you when you let out a sigh. “It was something I’d been hoping would happen.”

Your breath seemed to catch in your throat when he took another step closer, the pad of his thumb making contact with your arm when he went on. “Call me crazy but I feel like we both knew that was coming.”

You took a step back, not because he was wrong and not because you didn’t like it, but because suddenly every thought in your brain was spinning at 100 miles per hour and you knew you had about fifteen minutes to get dressed and figure out what the hell was going on. Or at least craft a story that would explain why his clothes were in your room and figure out a way to get Shelli to completely forget whatever she thought she saw.

“Can we maybe talk about it later? Like--when they’re not coming back here in a few minutes with donuts and coffee?”

“Yes,” he nodded, words fumbling out of his mouth like he’d forgotten how to form sentences. “Later. I’m going to get dressed.”

“Me too.”

He shut the door after he gathered up his clothes and shoes. You sat on the foot of the bed and stared at your hands--the ones that had touched him and run through his hair and traced circles on his chest when you fell asleep.

You were simultaneously mad at yourself for being stupid enough to do that and still completely enchanted by the fact that it happened and you weren’t dreaming and you hadn’t been crazy to think there was some level of sexual tension between you.

You were drunk. The first time you'd had more than two glasses of wine in a while, after all. Whatever type of stupid crush that had developed was nothing more than that: stupid, silly, a complete fantasy that had sparked into a flame once you had a few drinks.

Sure, maybe you had no clue what to do moving forward, but you figured that playing it cool was the only option until you’d had enough time to let your thoughts and feelings settle.

Maeve and CeCe were clueless, you learned, when they sat at the counter and scarfed down donuts. You sipped the coffee that Shelli had returned with and asked about their night.

A movie, popcorn on the couch, so many laughs and Uncle Irv even let them play on the old pinball machine he kept in his office.

The shower in Harry’s room shut off eventually, he descended the stairs with wet hair and offered a timid smile to everyone in the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he patted CeCe on the head and moved to fetch the cup of coffee that Shelli offered in his direction.

“I’ll take it the birthday dinner went well?” Shelli brought her coffee up to her lips and let her eyes dance between the two of you. Harry looked at you and you looked at him, a silent standoff to see who would respond.

But it was your birthday, you realized.

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Was great.”

You reached for a bite of donut from CeCe’s plate, she let out a yelp when you plopped it in your mouth, offering her an apologetic look. “Good food, good drinks.”

“You enjoyed yourself too, Harry?”

He was caught off guard by this, lips in a thin line when he set his coffee on the counter and nodded. “It was wonderful, really.”

Shelli wouldn’t care--you weren’t worried what she would think or if she’d judge you. If anything, you knew she’d be the type to encourage you to let your hair down and venture out into the dating pool. Which is what she practically did last night. You just didn’t know if she’d actually meant to encourage you to sleep with the client of her son.

But she didn’t know the context! She didn’t know about the way he looked at you across the dinner table or the way he kept pouring wine. All she knew was that she told you to have fun and then she found you--quite disheveled--with Harry’s clothes on the floor and Harry himself nowhere to be found.

Maeve was off to her room soon enough, reporting that she needed a break from CeCe who was keen to play with a doll in the living room with the TV on. You wiped the counter with a sponge and Harry took a loud slurp of his coffee when Shelli broke out into a full smile.

“It’s none of my business,” she said.

“It’s not,” you looked up at her quickly.

“But,” she lifted a single shoulder and smirked when you rolled your eyes. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“It’s not a secret.”

“Then why was he hiding in the bathroom?” She lowered her voice so CeCe wouldn’t hear.

“How do you know I was in the bathroom?”

“He wasn’t hiding in the bathroom.”

Shelli offered an unimpressed look in your direction but then turned to Harry. “She’s a catch, Harry.”

“Okay,” you held up a hand, embarrassed and uncomfortable and already breaking a sweat. It was fun, you’d been thinking a lot about him and the way he acted with you and the kids and you didn’t need Shelli to be egging on your single-mom fantasy.

Harry blushed at that, a nod in her direction and a smirk on his face when he brought his eyes to you.

“Shelli--people get drunk and do things that sometimes they wouldn’t normally, right? So, I need you to not make a big deal out of this and not tell Jeffrey.”

She put her fingers up to her lips and twisted them, implying that they were locked and Jeff wouldn’t catch wind of your best and most anxiety-provoking hook up to date. She dropped it at that, Harry made some excuse about going for a run and soon Saturday melted back into what you’d hoped it would be: the kids playing outside, cannon balls in the pool after lunch.

Daylight faded and it wasn’t until after 9pm when you had to face him again. He knocked on the door to your office when you had glasses falling down your nose, a sweatshirt tugged over your messy bun.

The side of his mouth twitched into a smirk, arms folded over his chest. “Do you ever take a day off?”

You let out a laugh and turned to see him over your shoulder. “Email never sleeps.”

He watched you for a second, wheels spinning in his head as he planned out his next words carefully: “Is now a better time to discuss what happened last night?”

You let out a sigh, one that pulled a nervous look to his face, but he soon laughed. “Uh oh,” he teased. “Doesn’t sound like a good start.”

“No,” you laughed, unsure of how to save any last morsel of dignity. “I’m sorry that Shelli was so...intrusive this morning.”

He looked down to the ground but chuckled. “Can’t say I’m surprised. She’s always talked about you like a daughter.”

“Yeah, I just--I had a great time, I mean that--”

“But,” he looked at you expectantly, blinked a few times when you smacked your lips together.

“But I think that it needs to be a one time thing. It would be really confusing for CeCe and Maeve if they found out.”

He nodded, took a deep breath and said: “I agree. Yeah, that makes sense.”

Something plucked at your heart, an unidentifiable emotion that made you want to kiss him harder than you did after five drinks and a birthday dinner. He was fine--totally understanding and unbothered by your words that effectively ended whatever mini-fling had existed for less than 24 hours.

Maybe that was it--disappointment. Had you expected him to put up a fight and convince you endlessly to sleep with him again or sweep you off your feet and drive off into the sunset? No. Did a part of you wish that he didn’t seem so accepting of learning that it would never happen again? Apparently so.

You faltered for a second, stared at him awkwardly but then clicked out of your mailbox. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

He looked back out to the kitchen, quiet and tidy after it’s post-dinner clean. “Do you want a glass of wine?” He smiled a bit, watched you with a sturdy dose of suspicion when you stood and rolled your eyes.

“Is this our thing? Turning questions around?”

He laughed but trailed behind you, sat at the island when you picked out a bottle. “Our thing? What do you mean?”

“You know--all friends have a thing, their bantery joke. Apparently ours is asking a question but then the other person turns it back around.”

“Hmmm,” he laughed, thought on it for a second when you uncorked and poured. “Are we friends?”

You looked up at him, matched the smirk on his face when he plucked at his lower lip. You slid a glass over to him on the granite. “Are we not friends?”

“You’re doing our thing.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, took a sip of the Merlot and then cleared your throat. “We can be friends.”

“Friends who don’t sleep together.”

“Right,” you nodded, less self-conscious than you had been in your office. It happened, right? People would accidentally sleep together when they were drunk and they could move on, poke fun, make light of a situation that threatened to bring too many emotions to the surface if either one let their guard down for a second.

“Did either Maeve or CeCe ask any more questions today about where I was?”

“Nope,” you shook your head, let out a breath of relief. “Maeve got too distracted by the donuts and the activity planning of the day and CeCe was oblivious the whole time. So, we should be fine.”

“Good,” he said. A pause when he let out a quiet laugh.

“What?”

He looked up at you briefly, shrugged a little and then said: “Just can’t help but think about what Jeff would say.”

You blushed at that, dropped his gaze and stared at the wine in your glass. “I don’t know about you but I’m okay not finding out.”

Another dimple on his cheek when he asked: “embarrassed of me?”

“No,” you laughed, fighting a smile. “I just know how he can be. He’ll want to know every detail and he’ll have a million questions. If you think Shelli was bad this morning, Jeff would be worse.”

He smiled, tipped his glass back to take another pull. “Right, he might as well be your brother, I guess.”

“He’s just as annoying as one, that’s for sure." You were desperate to change the subject, fearful of what you might say or admit if the topic stayed put. "Do you have any siblings?”

“Sister, yeah,” he nodded. “Just the two of us.”

“Are you close?”

“Super,” he smiled. “We talk pretty regularly despite the time difference. Our parents got divorced when we were young so it kind of feels like we’ve been through a lot together.”

He didn’t realize the way his words hit close to home until you sighed.

“How much did that ruin your life?”

He pulled a face, apologetic and understanding at the same time. “It didn’t ruin my life,” he reassured. “Just don’t think they were meant to be.”

“Well I can definitely relate to that.”

He tilted his head to the side, swirled the wine around his glass. “Why do you ask if it ruined my life?”

“I just worry about them, I guess. I was young when they got divorced, and then my mom passed and that definitely affected my sense of family."

He nodded, his eyes invested when you spoke.

“It was just me and my dad--and obviously we had the Azoffs, but, I don’t know. I guess I just worry that they’ll also grow up feeling somewhat unfulfilled.”

“Did you want a sibling growing up?”

“More than anything,” you laughed. “I mean, I had Alison and Jeff and all of them, but--you know, it’s not blood.”

“Yeah,” he took another sip. “I get that--my step dad was really important to me, passed away last summer.”

“Oh, wow--I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

Great--here you were complaining about losing both parents now, completely unaware that Harry had suffered a similar loss and yet this was the first time you were hearing it.

“I don’t mean to talk about myself so much,” you said quickly, cheeks flushed in a pink hue of shame.

He let out a soft laugh, almost as if he found your sudden retraction endearing or adorable. “I could listen all day.”

“Well, I wouldn’t make you suffer through that,” you said.

He stood, rounded the edge of the island and you wondered if he could hear your heart beating out of your chest, like you were 16 at a summer fair on top of the ferris wheel. His lips were pressed to yours before you could tell him not to, before you could stick up a hand between the two of you and remind him what you’d said only a few minutes earlier: friends.

The moment was quick, though, the tiny thudding of feet on the stairs sent him flying to the other side of the kitchen. CeCe’s hands gripped the railing and she rubbed at her eyes when she let out a tiny wail.

“I--had--a--bad--dream,” she cried, her voice soft in the dim kitchen.

“Oh sweetie,” you hurried over to her, let your arms wrap around her before you scooped her up into your arms. “It’s okay, it was just a dream, you’re here and safe with mommy.”

You looked over to him, a close lipped smile in apology when you turned back to the stairs. Maybe it was for the best. If you couldn’t control yourself around him, at least you could count on nightmares and little feet to be your safety net.

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txtdreamss · 4 years ago

Text

the boy who has everything// [f.w.]

Summary: Fred and you have been secretly going steady since the end of your fifth year. Now that he and George are making their grand exit to follow their dreams, you are struggling to come up with the perfect parting gift.

Inspired by: https://open.spotify.com/track/37hblhCnC5YzhDQH58Rgpi?si=0EISnLcTRE2mctlIXNObTA

Warnings: Angst, Malfoy!Reader, difficult home life, neglect mentioned

A/N: Currently going through a bit of a writers block that definitely came from school, but I thought something to do with my fav boy would help clear my mind. Just want some input from ya’ll, would you be interested in me starting to take requests? Also, low-key miss having mutuals before I decided to completely start over lol. Also, why does ‘each other’ look wrong to me? Like I am a native English speaker but the words just like sus...

Word Count: 2.2k

The numerous differences between your childhood and your boyfriend’s were anything but subtle.

Growing up, you felt as if you were a puppet being dangled for the world to see. Your mother, Narcissa Malfoy, was a complex woman; She obviously loved you very much. She held you, but never longer than it took to keep your tears at bay. Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, was your father in blood only. His disdain for your lack of enthusiasm regarding blood purity was obvious. He had never once in your 18 years on Earth said ‘I love you’, or even a simple ‘I’m proud of you’. Until the day came where you were willing to take the dark mark and fight on behalf of Lord Voldemort, you would be nothing in your parents’ eyes besides a test child before Draco’s birth.

Now, from what Fred had told you, his childhood was seemingly filled with sunshine and rainbows. He spent his summers wading in the pond near the Burrow, listening to the chirp of crickets and giggles of his numerous siblings. The entire family was open about showing their love in words and actions. Molly and Arthur, despite not being particularly rich, would give the clothes off their backs if it meant their children would never have to experience fear in any capacity. Fred always had a playmate, and never did he have to go through life fearing being expelled from the family home for his opinions.

In the simplest of terms, Fred and you were complete opposites. Your similarities were found in the small things; the way you both were headstrong and loyal, and most of all...

You both despised Filch. Fred had saved your butt from being caught in the halls after dark at the beginning of 5th year. He had decided then and there that despite the fact that you were in a different house, you simply had to be more than another member of the besmirched sacred twenty-eight. He knew from the second you were taking his outstretched hand in the dimly lit corridors that no matter what, you both were destined to be in each others’ lives. As he led you down a secret passage to the sound of Mrs. Norris’ eardrum-rattling mewls, you knew that the idea that he was just another impoverished ginger from the Weasley family was anything but true. Despite all the odds, that night was what laid down the foundations for you and Fred to become more than just another member of the family feud.

Going on almost 2 years later, and your relationship had shifted from what was a slightly odd friendship to an unexpected relationship. Fred and George were now planning their grand escape for sometime after the Easter holidays, but you had a totally different date on your mind; April 1st.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“Oi, Weasley! You are a whole 42 seconds late!” You giggled, and Fred simply chuckled before dropping his books next to yours.

It was rare for Fred to be on time, but he always made an effort (and usually succeeded) for you. Due to your obvious difference in house loyalty, the easiest way you found to spend time together was to carve out 2 afternoons each week to just bask in each others’ presence. Every Monday and Friday (unless there was a quidditch match), you would meet Fred in a secluded corner of the courtyard. The two of you would goof around study, snack on some treats from Honeydukes, or simply lie back and enjoy the sunset while talking about whatever came up.

“So, anything big happen today, love?” Fred pecked you on the cheek quickly before dropping his head on your shoulder.

“Just the usual. Apparently, my mother has finally given up on sending me howlers to come home.”

“Y/N, mum already said she would love for you to come and stay with us during the holidays. You could come get a feel for the family over the holidays next week, and you would finally get to see what the Weasley-Twin-Birthday-Bonanza is like!”

“You mean watch your aunt call you George for a whole evening while asking why you aren’t a prefect? Oh, I am so in.” The ginger made a face of mock offense while dramatically huffing into the shoulder of your robes. “That reminds me, will you finally cave and tell me what you want for your birthday?”

“Love, I don’t want anything at all. Having my gal be there for the big one-eight is more than I could ever ask for.”

Money was no issue; Your mother had continued sending you a small allowance, most likely in the hopes that it would sway you to ‘do the right thing’. Fred had always made an effort to get you a new charm for your bracelet for your birthday, which most likely cost him a few weeks in sales, so of course you wanted to return the favor and find the perfect gift. Last year, you had crocheted him a plush lion wearing a Gryffindor-themed scarf and he had loved it. For some reason, though, you couldn’t help but feel like you needed to find him something bigger and better for his final birthday as a Hogwarts student.

“If you say so, Fred. Just don’t complain when you open my gift and it’s a pair of socks embroidered with little kittens.” Fred simply smiled and grabbed your hand that was previously tapping on the edge of your potions textbook.

“I’ll wear them with pride.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“Ginny, please tell me you have some amazing idea for a gift that I haven’t thought of....” Ginny grimaced as you sunk into the wooden chair, obviously aware that this meeting you had called in the library wasn’t just to give her some advice in terms of course selection.

“Well... um... maybe you could bring him some muggle joke products? He really gets quite a kick out of them.” The apples of Ginny’s round cheeks became rosy, and she awkwardly rubbed at the back of her neck. “I mean, no offense, but couldn’t you just ask him?”

“I tried that already. At this rate, he will be turning 19 before I figure out what to get him...” A puff of air escaped your chapped lips, and you once again found yourself nibbling on them in thought.

“Well, here you are, big sis! Trying to figure out a gift for your git of a boyfriend?” Draco’s familiar greasy head popped out from behind the shelf before the young wizard marched up to you directly. “Do us all a favor, give him a little ‘life sans Y/N’... Merlin knows his parents probably don’t want a child of dark lord sympathizers at their shack anyways.”

“Shut up, Draco...” Before Ginny could attempt to soothe your anger, you had up and left the room.

“Psh, serves her right anyways...” A resounding smack was heard as Ginny wacked the platinum-headed goon on the back with the heaviest textbook lying nearby.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It wasn’t like doubt surrounding your relationship had never been an issue before. You often found yourself wondering if your company was putting Fred in danger, especially considering the current climate surrounding the resurgence in death eater activity. Fred had always tried to quell your worries, but sweet words and gentle kisses could only do so much. You and Fred knew how you both felt towards each other, but it seemed like the world was against you some days.

Maybe Draco is right, he could get out of here and find a nice girl with normal parents to settle down with. After all, who wants to be known as the significant other of a Malfoy?

A single tear slipped out of the corner of your eye, but you quickly dabbed it away with the edge of your sleeve to avoid grabbing attention from any of your housemates. The only perk you found that happened to come with being sorted into Slytherin like the rest of your family was that it was far enough away that you knew Fred wouldn’t find out if you spent any time sulking about your common room. For once, the slam of the heavy dungeon doors brought you comfort instead of a nagging chill.

Fred isn’t like me. He has everything he could ever want... All I do is create more stress for him.

Ignoring the harsh gaze of your housemates, you slipped into your dorm and found yourself slinking to bed without so much as slipping off your robes. Pulling the emerald comforters over your head, you let yourself slip into a restless sleep.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It was finally the day before the Easter holidays, and Hogwarts was more alive than ever. Young couples were spending their last day on campus wandering the corridors, groups of friends sat laughing and promising to write letters on what they each planned to bring back, and even some people that swore they were enemies seemed to be acting more hospitable. It must’ve been nice to not be spending the morning trying to calm your beating heart and convincing yourself that what you are doing isn’t wrong.

“Hey Lovey! Have you finished packing yet?”

“Well... not exactly, Freddie.” Fred’s face dropped, and he took your hand in his.

“Is this about my aunt? I promise you won’t even have to say more than a simple ‘hello’ to her.” The mere mention of Fred’s Auntie Muriel almost cracked your tough exterior.

“I can’t come home with you, Freddie. There is no way your family wants to spend their holiday break with the daughter of Lucius Malfoy. Look, I mean... here’s your gift. Just please promise to wait till you get to the station to open it.”

Fred opened his mouth to argue, but you had already turned away as to avoid him seeing hot tears trail down your cheeks. You would have to be insane to go and willingly spend your holiday alone in the Malfoy Manor. There would be no family meals, especially now that all your parent’s energy went towards providing shelter for the death eaters. As you stumbled away to make your way back to your dorm to finish packing, Fred’s warm hand grasped your shoulder.

“Please. Y/N, all I want is to be able to spend every day of this holiday mucking about with you. I know why you want to go home, and I’m telling you as your boyfriend and best friend to not do it. Just please, grant me a birthday wish... come home with me.”

Fred drew you into his chest, and you found yourself clutching onto his striped button-up as if it would save your life. His larger hands rubbed across your back, and he pressed a small kiss on the top of your head.

“Are you really sure about this, Fred? I wouldn’t want to make your mum and dad uncomfortable, or even your older brothers for that matter.”

“Y/N, my love, the light of my life, just come home. If you can manage to get George to like you more than he likes me, I promise you the rest of my family will love you.” His signature smirk spread on his freckled face, and he pressed a quick peck on the tip of your nose.

“Now, let’s go get you packed, Y/N.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“Oi, Fred, what’s in the box?” George elbowed his brother while somewhat attempting to be quiet. The train ride was almost over, and you had resorted to using the seat opposite to the twins as a temporary napping spot.

“I nearly forgot I had it on me to be quite honest. Do you think I should open it even though she is coming with us?”

“She said to open it at the station, but we are obviously past that point, so please just open it!” George bounced in his seat, and Fred gave in to temptation. He unwrapped the ribbon holding the small box shut, opened the lid, and discovered a dainty chain with a circular pendant hanging on the end.

“Is that a size reference for your-”

“George! Shut up, you dimwit. I think it might be a mirror-glass type thing, but I genuinely have no idea...”

“Freddie, bring it to your eye and look through it.” The twins both jumped as you rolled over, clearly no longer asleep.

Fred brought the pendant to his right eye, squinted, and his immediate smile couldn’t be contained. When held at the right distance, he could see a small picture of you and him from your first date at Hogsmeade. He was much more lanky and awkward looking, and you were almost matched in height. The smile you both shared in the photo warmed his heart to no end, and Fred found himself having to gather his emotions from the memories he had of that day.

The ginger all but leapt to your side of the cart, and he wrapped his arm around your still-sleepy figure. He squeezed you tightly to his side before leaning in to whisper something in your ear without allowing George to hear.

“It’s perfect, my love.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

~Post-fic A/N: I hope this was a good read for you guys! I am definitely on the verge of passing out, but proofreading is superior to sleep (jk). Anyways, if anything comes to mind, don’t hesitate to reach out or send in an ask! I love interacting with you guys, even if it is just a brief hello! :) ~

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred and george #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #fred x reader #fred weasley imagine #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #angst #malfoy reader #reader insert #weasley supremacy #txtdreamss

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foolondahill17 · 3 years ago

Text

Silver Linings sequel is, indeed, coming, but I want to wait to start posting chapters until I’ve got a good chunk of it down. For now, a sneak peak:

“Daddy, what’s gay?” Emma pipes up suddenly, loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Ah,” Dean fumbles for an answer to the non sequitur. “What makes you ask?”

“Miss Jenny says it’s what you and Cas are.”

“Oh, um,” Dean says. He looks over at Cas, who’s eyebrows are raised, but the other man doesn’t make a move to answer the question. Dean bites the bullet and turns down the music. “It’s – ah – when, you know, how Cas and I are, like –”

“Was Miss Jenny nice when she told you about your dad?” Cas interrupts, craning his neck to look over the backrest.

Emma shrugs. “She just said it.”

“Well, yeah,” Dean says gruffly. “I guess we’re technically – ah, well gay is when two guys love each other. Or, ah, you can use it for women – you know like Auntie Charlie and Stevie?”

“It can also be more general,” Cas pipes up. Dean is glad for his help. They’ve tried to raise Emma under the general guide that if she was old enough to ask the question than she was old enough to get an honest answer. “For anyone who isn’t straight. Another word is ‘queer.’ But you want to make sure that you only use those words if you’re being nice. And if you ever hear someone using it in a mean way, you can tell them that isn’t okay.”

“Even a teacher?” Emma asks, eyes widening at this shocking revelation.

Dean can see how his impressionistic and often times impulsive child might get the wrong idea about that. “Ah, you better make sure you tell me, Cas, or your mom if it’s a teacher or another adult being mean, okay?”

Cas nods along with Dean. “Yes, they’re older than you, and they should already know better. They might need another adult to remind them to be kind.”

Emma thinks about this for a minute, chewing on her bottom lip. Dean can see her front tooth wiggling a little under the stress. She’s gonna be cute as fuck with a gap in her smile.

“And gay people can have babies just like other people?” Emma inquires.

“Someone who isn’t gay is called straight,” Cas adds helpfully.

“Well, not exactly like other people,” Dean hedges. He’s not entirely sure he’s ready to have that conversation, even if Emma asks. At least not without consulting Lydia first.

“Miss Jenny said you couldn’t have babies at all,” Emma adds. “Cause I told her you and Cas was gonna have a baby and she said it dinnit work that way.”

Dean exchanges another glance with Cas, this time fighting back an amused smile. “Well, you know Miss Kelly’s having the baby, right, kiddo?” Dean says. “She’s growing it in her tummy?”

“But how come it’s your baby, then?” Emma frowns.

“Well, Cas and I are gonna adopt the baby,” Dean explains patiently. “You remember how Uncle Sammy and Aunt Eileen adopted Robbie last year? You remember how we all went to the courthouse and you wore your pretty dress?”

Emma wrinkles her nose at the memory of her dress – she doesn’t have an issue with pinks, purples, or flowers, but getting her into anything she’s not allowed to get dirty is always a hassle.

Emma digests this explanation for a moment, thoughtful frown puckering her eyebrows. “So we gotta go to court again?” she says finally.

Dean smiles. “No, peanut. Not this time. We get to have the baby right after Kelly goes to the hospital.”

“When’s that?”

“Not until July,” Dean replies. “That’s a whole ‘nother three and a half months away. Lots of time to get used to the idea.”

“Three an’ a half months,” Emma echoes him. “Half of April, May, June, July.” she counts them off on her fingers.

Dean pulls the impala into the driveway of his and Cas’s farmhouse. It’s a small house and not especially attractive, but there’s a narrow front porch with a bench, and Dean painted the front door and shutters to match. There’s a fire bush out front that bursts red in the fall, and the backyard is large enough for Cas’s garden and a plastic sandbox shaped like a turtle. There’s even a fancy-ass automatic garage door, which Dean activates so he can pull Baby out of the reach of the elements.

Emma’s unfastening her seatbelt, sliding out of her booster seat, and hopping out of the car almost before Dean can put it into park.

“Emma – be careful –” Cas calls after her, hurrying to catch up. He gets there in time to stop her door from swinging open and hitting the side of his truck. “You need to wait for me or your dad to let you out, please.”

“Okay, sorry,” Emma says in a rush, already running toward the door that lets her into the house.

Cas sighs. He casts a weary grin at Dean and ducks inside the backseat to grab Emma’s forgotten backpack.

“She said she was sorry,” Dean says with a shrug and a grin of his own.

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titriwrites · 4 years ago

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Polaroid Picture -- Chapter Thirteen

A/N: Huh, so what have you all been up to since April? *hides* I’m so sorry for the wait, but here, have a (hopefully) nice surprise on this lovely Sunday evening

Read either here on AO3 or under the cut :) And enjoy!

Chapter 13

Beth drives, humming along to the music on the radio, bobbing her head. It’s a warm day, and with the weekend approaching she’s in a good mood. Well, it’s not only the weather and the lack of traffic on her way – she’s taken the Friday off too in order to have one more day in Suffolk – that makes her happy today. It’s also that she hasn’t seen Diana in a few months, and she’s excited to be invited.

She wasn’t sure, Beth has to admit, about coming. It’s always been a little strange – at least her friends say so – to still be so close to her ex-husband’s family. But they don’t really understand. While they’re all close to their respective in laws, there’s something about knowing your boyfriend’s and later husband’s family almost as good as your own. They’d been so close, Tom, Emma, Sarah, Matt and Beth. There’d been sleepovers and ghost stories long before sex and love stories. And now with her own parents gone, Tom’s family became hers, and they adopted her and Matt with open arms.

It’s not her fault, really, that Tom’s been gone for so long to lose contact.

But she’s not thinking about Tom now. She’s enjoying the scenery, and then she’s going to enjoy the company of Diana, Sarah, Emma and their husbands and children. Beth laughs softly to herself. Jack and Yakov will possibly suffer a lot with all those women chatting and laughing away – though to be fair, there will also be cooking involved, and they’re almost always nice to the boys.

After half an hour longer on the road, Beth parks in the driveway of Diana’s home. It’s gotten even warmer, this Thursday quickly turning out to be lovely enough to spend some of the evening with a walk on the beach. Beth takes a deep breath as she gets out of her car. Goodness, she missed the smell of the seaside.

She’s not even fully reached the front door of the house, bag now in hand, when the door swings open and the shout from Sarah’s five-year-old daughter can be heard.

“Aunty Libby!” she shouts while running full speed ahead, her mother’s laughter behind her. Beth has learned not to cringe at the sound of the once so very familiar nickname. It’s not Violet’s fault her uncle – an uncle she probably doesn’t even know – used to call her the same. She simply couldn’t say ‘Beth’, and Diana, bless her heart, called her Libby once and it stuck with the little girl.

The little girl who’s now reaching Beth, who sweeps her up in her arms and twirls both of them around twice, shouts of joys coming from Violet. “Hello, Poppy.”

She scrunches up her nose. “That’s not my name.”

“Noooo?” Beth lips shape an ‘O’. “Really? Sorry, then I used the wrong flower. How are you, little Lilly?”

The girl in her arms giggles. “That’s not my name, too!”

“What? Just how many flowers are there then? Is it Rose? Or Petunia?”

“You’re silly, Libby.”

“Oh!” Beth pokes the little girl in the tummy, making her giggle. “I know. Hello, lovely Violet.” The smile on her face makes Beth almost cringe with how much it reminds her of Tom. Again, it’s not Violet’s fault. She simply resembles the Hiddleston part of her family a lot.

“Hello, Libby.”

They grin at each other as Beth carries her niece – she officially still is that just as Beth is her aunty, right? – back to Sarah and what Beth assumes is the rest of the family. And just as she thought, Sarah, Emma and Diana all greet the duo by the door. Already it’s a loud bunch, but Beth soaks it up and revels in it. There are hugs and warm words, Beth is putting down her bag, and in the background, she can hear Jack and Yakov presumably in the living-room watching what sounds like a movie.

Violet is still in her arms, she’s a bit heavier than the last time they’ve seen each other, which was probably three or four months ago. But it doesn’t matter, this heaviness. Beth’s so happy to see them all again.

But then she notices it. Emma and Sarah are exchanging glances, seemingly trying to convince the other to do something. Diana is the personified calm. Before Beth can ask about it though, Violet pipes up from her place in Beth’s arms.

“Can I sleep in your room, Aunt Libby?”

“Of course, you can if you want to.” Beth’s room is on the first floor right at the end of the hallway. She used to stay in there when she visited with Tom. It doesn’t look the same anymore, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to sleep there. Depending on how many people are in Diana’s house little Violet does have her own room though, on the ground floor with Sarah and Yakov sleeping in the former office. Maybe the parents were simply tired of it? “But don’t you want to sleep in your own room?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Oh?” Beth feels the mood shift. Emma’s and Sarah’s faces change, and this time there is a small flicker of something like cringing on Diana’s face. Blink and you miss it, though.

“Nah. Tom and Julia sleep there.”

Silence. Beth grins, then blinks. Huh? She’s heard ‘Tom and Julia’, but that can’t be. She’s tried not to even think those names for the last month. And yet, now it seems as Violet’s said them. Beth feels herself freezing.

“What?” It’s her voice filling the silence. Even the living-room seems to be quiet now. Or maybe Beth is just numb and deaf.

Violet’s got her sass from the Hiddlestons too, because she’s rolling her eyes now. “Tom and Julia sleep there,” she repeats. Slowly and a bit louder. Nope. Doesn’t sound better the second time around. Do they maybe know other couples with that name?

“Your…” Beth clears her throat. “Uhm…” She looks around. The adults exchange glances again, this time the sisters seem to send their mum looks that say ‘I told you so’. Beth still doesn’t know what’s going on. “Tom is here?”

***

Turns out, Tom is there. Not currently, and not for the past hours Beth’s been sitting in Diana’s kitchen, trying to decide whether she should just leave before Tom and Julia are back from their walk – so much Diana told her – or whether she can be brave and stay. But an entire long weekend with the two of them? No. Someone will be going to get killed that way. Or maybe both.

“Okay,” she sighs, sipping her tea and shooting a glance Diana’s way, who’s sitting across from her at the other end of the kitchen table. “Tell me again why you did it? And why you’re meddling with this?”

Diana actually has the nerve to look offended. “I don’t meddle. I simply invited my daughter in law.”

“Ex.”

“Not yet.”

“Diana.”

“Elizabeth.”

Beth opens her mouth to answer, maybe yell a bit, but she can’t go on, because in that moment there are noises at the front door. It’s the first time Diana starts to look a bit panicked and Beth watches with some sort of satisfaction, before her own panic sets in.

She doesn’t want this. She’s never wanted to see Tom – and most of all Julia – again, and now they’re going to walk through the kitchen door in less than 30 seconds. Maybe she can hide, or make a really quick exit through the garden behind the house? Or maybe hide in the garden? Yeah, running and hiding sound like good options now. Beth almost chokes on her tea, setting the mug down with shaking hands.

There’s laughter in the hallway, and the TV in the living-room is switched off. Of course, the family wants to listen in. A bunch of nosy people, the Hiddlestons and their partners.

And then, Beth catches a glimpse of Tom holding hands with his fiancée as they walk past the door, hanging up their jackets. Tom looks wary. Of course, he must have spotted the car in the driveway.

Then he turns his head, and suddenly Beth locks eyes with him. Her heart is beating fast, her mouth goes dry, and she can’t hear anything apart from her own breathing. Tom smiles, then blinks, then frowns, and in the end, he just looks shocked with eyes wide open, lips parted and his Adam’s apple moving as he swallows heavily.

Oh God. Damn, she should have left.

Before she can voice that thought or even think about anything else, Tom is approaching the kitchen with large steps, dragging Julia along with him.

“What—" Beth hears Tom’s fiancée, but there is no answer, because now Tom’s in the kitchen with them, looking from Diana to Beth, Diana and then Beth again.

“What the fuck is going on?” He goes from confused to angry in mere seconds, and although Beth has known him for more than twenty years now, she’s never seen him like that. Mad at her, yes, silent, brooding, disappointed, childish, all of that. But never once angry like this, veins pulsing, voice shaking along with the finger he’s pointing at her now, swallowing hard and going red and sweaty in seconds. “Why are you here?” he hisses. “What are you planning?”

“Tom—”

“No, Mum. I’m not talking to you at the moment.” He’s seething now, and despite the panic that settles in her gut, in her heart and in her brain, Beth hears footsteps approaching from the living-room. To listen in? Or to act quickly in case this goes out of hand? “I want to know what my ex-wife is doing here the same weekend we’re visiting.” He’s addressing Beth once more. “Do you even have any shame? Doesn’t this feel the slightest bit awkward for you?”

That’s it. That’s enough. But before Beth can stand up from the table and take her leave or even open her mouth to defend herself, Diana speaks up.

“I invited her. She didn’t know you’d be here, I haven’t told her. Don’t blame Beth for everything going on in your life, especially not the things going wrong. She’s a guest of mine.”

Beth swallows, and Tom does too. Behind him, Julia pipes up for the first time since they’ve entered the kitchen. “Well, this is lovely.”

“I want her gone,” Tom whispers, mostly to himself.

“Good,” Beth answers. “I want to go.”

“No!” It’s Diana, and she looks like she’s up for a fight to get her will. “I invited Beth over. Get over with it. I want Elizabeth here.”

“You want me to go then?”

Beth huffs. There it is, the childish side. Big, coming from someone who’s not cared about coming or going for the past six years.

“Don’t be stupid, Tom. I want both of you here.” With a glance at Julia, Diana clears her throat. “The three of you, of course. You’re all adults, you’re going to meet on more than this one occasion, I’m sure. If you meant what you said about visiting more often, there’ll be birthdays spent together.”

Beth glances at the couple. Still angry, still confused. This is going to be horrible. Worse than any family gathering she’s ever had to endure.

***

She stays. She’s actually staying in his mum’s house at the same time he’s there with Julia. Tom still can’t quite understand it. She must feel how uncomfortable this is, right?

And what has his mother been thinking inviting Libby... Beth, Beth of course, over? Tom believes his ex-wife when she says she wasn’t involved. She wouldn’t be that vile, and he can feel the awkwardness radiating off of her.

Julia isn’t any help at all, either. Tom almost feels like she’s bathing in this situation. Feeling smug, showing she’s with Tom now. Showing how Libby... Beth isn’t. He should say something. But should he really? Beth can leave too. She should, actually. It’s his mum’s house. He’s got every right to be here.

He sighs. He wanted to sit in his mother’s garden, relax, feel the sun on his face and not think about anything. That didn't work out so well. And yes, that's mostly Julia's fault. And maybe a little bit Beth's as well. Nah, that’s not true, and Tom knows that. But Julia went shopping. For him. And he doesn’t want to assume, but it could be possible that Julia maybe wants to show Beth who’s the boss of him now as well – not that there actually is one, thank you very much.

But yeah, anyway. Julia went shopping, he’s got new clothes – clothes he’s already wearing to make her happy – and then she went for a walk with his family. Well, at least she can’t see Tom’s pain then. He gets up and winces immediately. Damn it all to hell. Slowly, very slowly, he makes his way through the patio door and into the kitchen. Tom simply has to make it to his room, get out of the clothes and think of something to say to Julia. Maybe he could wrinkle it a bit? He glances at the fridge. No, no, she wouldn’t believe him if he said he used ketchup. For what anyway? Maybe he should fry some eggs?

Before Tom can make the – admittingly quite desperate – attempt to ruin his clothes, a voice stops him. He sighs. Of course, Beth didn’t go with them.

“I’m sorry, but how old are you?”

Huh? He looks at her, leaning there against the kitchen door leading into the hall. “Excuse me?”

Libby’s voice is full of laughter, her face looks like it’s almost splitting in two. “You look like a 12-year-old after a massive growth spurt.”

Tom looks down at himself. He knows what Beth means, but he won’t admit it for the life of him. “It’s fashionable now,” he tries to argue, “men wear it like this.” He was assured of it by Julia and the woman in the shop at least. He's not a hundred percent convinced, but what does he know about fashion anyway?

Beth shrugs, the grin still on her face. “Some men do, yes. But you hate short trousers. And you should. They look terrible, not just on you. Why would you wear trousers that are neither long nor really short? They don’t even reach your ankles.” She looks on sheepishly as she finishes. “Sorry, it’s really not my business.”

It’s really not. But Tom’s tired and he doesn’t want to argue with her. Doesn’t even want to agree with her, either. He just needs to make it down the hall, he’s in pain. So, he just shrugs and makes his way past her, wincing when his shoes – also new – make contact with the sore skin on his Achilles tendon.

Tom knows she’s going to say something just by hearing her take a breath. “Tom, you’re in pain.”

He shakes his head. “Nope, I’m not.”

“You’re limping.”

“It’s the way I’m walking.” He doesn’t want to be mean, he really doesn’t. But she’s right, and she’s not supposed to be. She doesn’t know him anymore.

Okay, Tom admits, even if it’s just to himself. Beth doesn’t need to know him to find out he’s in pain. He’s an actor, yes, but not in his private time. Well, not with Beth. Never has been.

She snorts, and Tom rolls his eyes. He’s almost out of the door, though. “That’s totally not the way you’re normally walking.”

He stops, can’t help the thought rushing through his head – and then straight out of his mouth, because apparently his body is betraying him now. “Ah, you’ve been watching me, huh?”

He blushes in time with Beth, and while Tom tries to make his way out of the room – finally – she stutters, “What? No! I haven’t been watching you. I’ve fucking known you for more than 20 years of my life! I... I... oh, fuck off, I haven’t watched you walk. That’s just creepy, Tom. For fuck’s sake.”

Okay, he stops again, making himself wince once more, but this? This is too good. “Yeah, well. That made me believe you,” he smirks. Tom turns, ignoring the death glare shot his way. “Shit.” He’s sure his Achilles tendons are already blistering.

Tom hears the, “Oh, for fuck’s sake”, but he doesn’t even have time to ask what might be wrong with her now, before he’s dragged to the guest bathroom by his arm, wincing and limping all the way, protesting too, because damn it all, this really, really hurts.

“What the heck is wrong with your feet, Tom?” she asks after she’s made him sit on the toilet seat. He looks up at her, almost sheepishly, feeling like a little boy or young man again, who somehow forgot to do the laundry or bring all the items on the shopping list.

“Nothing,” he mumbles, but then laughs out loud at the exasperated look on Beth’s face. “I’ve got blisters, okay?” Seeing her raised brow Tom continues. “I’ve got new shoes, because apparently mine don’t work with the new trousers. But you shouldn’t see the socks in them. So, I didn’t put them on. I’m barefoot in new shoes, and it hurts. Happy now?”

“Oh, Tom.” She laughs at him, but shakes her head, and Tom is torn between feeling incredibly stupid and happy it’s out and he’s not the only one thinking this was a bad idea. Because he knows that laugh. It’s not meant to be mean, actually she’s already thinking of solutions. She can’t really help herself, it’s just the way she is. “I’ll get you some plasters for that. And please, please promise me you get some socks for those shoes.” Tom nods. He’s too stunned to do anything else. “Alternatively, I can just burn those trousers and say it was an accident,” she winks, “it’s not like I can get on Julia’s bad side any more than I already am.”

And with that she’s gone, leaving Tom to sit on that loo, preparing to take off his shoes. Huh. She’s probably right about that. But he’s not sure if he should feel the way he does about it.

***

Beth hasn’t stopped smiling and grinning since yesterday. She also can't stop shaking her head at Tom’s stupidity. He looked like a teenager in puberty. After a massive growth spurt of course, in love with the most popular girl in school – not that she can relate, she's never been that – who makes him wear the ‘cool’ clothes. He’s never been like that, though, not when Beth knew him anyway. Well, she sighs, people change, and Tom certainly did. But they’ve already established that, right? Right.

She looks around the room, her things packed and ready to be taken to the car. The weekend has been nice, as much as it could with people in it, you don’t want to spend your time with. At least she got to see Tom’s family. Anyway, she can't change it now, so why mourn the time she couldn’t spend with them without Julia running around the house. Or the beach. Or the town. Plus, it’s Sunday, she’s going home today, she won't have to see the two of them ever again, if she doesn’t want to. For real, this time.

Beth takes her bag downstairs with her, where Diana, Sarah and Emma are sitting together in the living-room with biscuits and tea. The men are outside at the playground with little Violet, having said goodbye to Beth earlier. As she looks outside the window and into the garden, she can see Julia pacing on the lawn, her phone pressed to her ear. She looks somewhat excited. Good for her, Beth supposes.

But Tom doesn’t. His hands are tight in his hair, gripping it. He’s frustrated, and he’s also trying to say something. He doesn’t, though. Huh. And then Julia hangs up and comes closer. Beth looks away when they start hugging. No need to watch that.

“Beth?”

“Huh?” She looks around the room. Diana and the girls are grinning at her.

“See anything you like?” Diana asks, pointing outside, her head tilted.

“Just checked.” Her cheeks feel hot, Beth just hopes she doesn’t resemble a tomato.

“Yeah,” Emma pipes up, her eyes glancing Tom’s way. Beth won't look. She won't. “They've been out there for quite some time now.”

Beth shrugs. “Well, maybe they’ve got some things to discuss. They do have to leave eventually, right? Go back to Los Angeles. Or New York. Or, wherever. Don’t they have some work to do?”

Now, the three women Beth loves do dearly are looking at her again. “I don’t know,” Sarah answers. “Do they? I haven’t seen my brother in six years, he sure as hell didn’t inform me about his schedule.”

“Sarah,” Diana admonishes, “he’s tried really well these past few days. Violet adores him.”

It’s clear to see Sarah – and Emma as well – wants to add something, but she can’t, because while they talked, Julia and Tom have made their way back into the house. Julia is looking all giddy, almost bouncing on her heels.

“We want to tell you something!”

Tom really, really doesn’t look like he wants to tell them anything, to be honest. And all of the sudden, Beth isn’t sure she wants them to tell anything, either. Maybe she can just leave very quietly?

“Julia,” he tries, “maybe not now?” He glances Beth’s way, and her suspicions are confirmed. A quick exit is out of the question now, though. Maybe she can drown them out? Or maybe make the ground swallow her.

“Especially now! Elizabeth is part of the plan after all.” Well, that just sounds like shit now.

“Nah,” she says. “I’m not sure I’m part of anything to be honest. Also, I really need to get on the road now. Busy week ahead of me. You wouldn’t believe how many women decided to have their babies next week. Pregnant ladies everywhere.” Emma squeezing her fingers and Tom’s wide eyes make Beth stop her rambling. Yeah, she knows, she knows, no need to rub it in, that was bad. So, she presses her lips together and watches the car crash in front of her happening quietly.

“We’ve just been on the phone with Brian and Judy,” Julia starts her explanation, “they’re our publicists by the way, and they thought it’d be a great idea to go with the flow now, so to speak. And we think it’d be great as well! People got so used to seeing us here in the UK. First in Oxford, then London, and now here. It really would be fitting.”

While Beth feels the heat rising in her body, her heart hammering in her chest, her moth going dry and Emma’s fingers gripping tighter, Diana speaks up. “Excuse me, but I think I speak for all of us, when I say that I don’t have any idea what you’re actually talking about.”

“We’re having our wedding in Oxford, of course!” Julia is grinning, Tom is definitely not.

***

Tagging (oops, please let me know if I used the right list, it’s been a while :D) @devikafernando @itsliterallythis @justthelosersblog @avenger-nerd-mom @archy3001 @nuggsmum @majk78 @hakimo2015 @noplacelikehome77 @theheartofpenelope @mrshiddleston-uk @nonsensicalobsessions @messy-insomniac-bookgirl @pipolaki

#polaroid picture #beth + tom #chapter 13 #tom hiddleston fanfiction #real person fanfiction

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matrixaffiliate · 5 years ago

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Christmas in Quarantine

New Story! FFN and AO3

Quarantine has a way of making us want to have the best things in life, the things we can't have now. For Harry and Ginny, this involves hauling out the holy, playing carols, holiday treats, and a little of Christmas, right this very minute. Modern Muggle AU.

This little story was requested and prompted by several wonderful people on Tumblr. @gryffindormischief named the fic and wanted it written for Hinny. @petals-to-fish (who put up so many wonderful fics in one day for all of us and it really was Christmas) wanted to see a snowball fight, baking cookies, and mistletoe kissing. @inakindofdaydream (who adores Christmas after my own heart) wanted to see them almost getting caught by Santa Clause. And @shining-jul-of-hope who pointed out that it's nowhere near Christmas right now. :P I'm so grateful to these lovely people for sharing in the magic with me, and trusting me with their fabulous ideas!

For those of us not part of the UK, cornflour, apparently is what we call corn starch.

Christmas in Quarantine

It was strange, how little Harry Potter's life changed with the Pandemic, but as a blockbuster author who spent most of his time in his office writing the next installment of his fantasy novels, he was more or less socially distanced to begin with. What changed the most was that Ginny was home now. The football leagues were all canceled and that meant Ginny's professional career had been put on hold until further notice.

For the first week or so, it was fun. Harry put off the manuscript in exchange for keeping Ginny company in all the best ways. But then his publisher was emailing him about maybe getting more done since the world had shut down, and his editor started calling and so Harry reluctantly went back into work mode.

He figured Gin would be alright. She had the treadmill and other assorted workout equipment and her team did daily Zoom meetings now. When she wasn't goofing around with the team - he's walked into the kitchen when she's in those meetings, he knows what they're talking about - both their mothers liked to call and check-in, Marlene hosted a Kindle book club now, and Luna taught painting lessons through live videos, so Harry felt confident that Ginny didn't need him to be underfoot trying to "entertain" her.

But he started to wonder if he had underestimated what social distancing would do to his wife when Harry walked out of his office for a snack and heard the sound of... show tunes?

"Gin?" Harry poked his head into the sitting room.

"Alright, Potter?" Ginny was lounging on the sofa in front of the telly, watching something that looked horrendous on their high def screen.

"What's this?" Harry gestured to the telly.

"My mum always said I should watch the musicals she loved as a kid." Ginny shrugged. "And I've got time now, so I thought I'd give a few a go."

Harry chuckled, "You had me worried there. I've never heard you listen to show tunes and I wondered if you'd gone stir crazy."

Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "Don't let that book keep you past dinner again."

Harry shoved his hand in his hair. "I've got an alarm today, I'll be all yours the moment it goes off."

Ginny's returning smile left him wondering if maybe he ought to move that alarm up an hour.

After a week of Ginny watching the musicals her mum grew up with, Harry became accustomed to the show tunes playing from the sitting room. Gin would put on whatever one he assumed her mum had recommended and Harry would come out to assorted big band songs playing. It reminded him of going to his dad's parents' home when he was little, which felt oddly comforting given the way the world was attempting to implode upon itself.

And that was probably why Harry didn't think to question Gin's newfound obsession.

And when she started watching the same one at the start of every day, well Harry just figured that she really liked the music or the story, after all, the bits that Harry had seen were set during the Great Slump and he was starting to wonder if the world wasn't heading for another 21st-century repeat.

Harry was a bit taken aback after a week of her starting the day with the musical Auntie Mame to walk into the kitchen to grab lunch and find Ginny baking mince pies.

"Alright, Gin?"

Ginny grinned up at him from the pie crust she was rolling out.

"Thought I'd make us a bit of a treat."

Harry brushed some of the flour from her cheek.

"Mince pies?"

"You love mince pies." She set the rolling pin down to smear a floured hand across his cheek.

Harry tried to pull back but wasn't quick enough and laughed as he reached for a towel.

"You're right, so I guess the proper response should have been more along the lines of 'thank you' or maybe enthusiastic snogging?"

"I'll take the thank you now and the enthusiastic snogging after these pies are baked and cooled." Ginny kissed him and Harry moved closer to her, letting his lips move slowly against her, loving the way she melted against him.

"Thank you for making mince pies in April. I'll make sure that you get far more than enthusiastic snogging once I'm done working on this blasted novel."

Ginny bit down on his lip. "I can't wait."

Harry was surprised by Ginny baking mince pies. But the next morning he was downright floored to find their Christmas decorations out and mostly up when he stepped out to refill his tea.

"Gin? What on Earth?"

"We need a little Christmas, Harry." Ginny adjusted where she hung an ornament on their tree.

"It's April…" Was all he managed to say as he realized how much she'd managed to get done in the roughly three hours he'd been writing.

"Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death!" Ginny laughed and smiled at the telly where Lucille Ball's character was talking about building a home for Jewish refugees.

"Right…"

Ginny moved back to the last couple of boxes of their Christmas decorations.

"I have a surprise at lunch. So don't work through it."

Harry blinked. "This isn't a surprise?"

"We need a little Christmas, Harry!" Ginny pulled the Santa hat or if the box and stuck it on her head.

And then it clicked.

"Are we in that musical?" He gestured to the telly.

Ginny huffed and dug into the box closest to her. "Well, I thought it looked like fun!"

"I can't sing," Harry grinned and moved to the boxes with Ginny. "But we could haul out the holy, maybe fill the stockings, turn on the carols."

Ginny's eyes filled back up with hope, "Bake Christmas cookies, have a snowball fight, watch for Santa?"

Harry slipped his hand into the box next to him as he smiled down at Ginny.

"I have no idea how we'll have a snowball fight, but yes, I'll go close out of my document for today and we'll have ourselves a little Christmas."

Then he lifted out what he'd been digging through the box for.

"But shouldn't we start our Christmas off right?" Harry held up the mistletoe over their heads.

Ginny chuckled, "Very smooth, Potter."

"I had to write a few romance pieces at university." Harry leant closer to her.

"Why have I never seen them?" Ginny smirked, leaning back away from him.

"They were rubbish. I tossed them the moment I had the grade." Harry finally pulled her close enough to capture her lips.

She laughed against him. "Go tell your boss you're out for the day while I go hang this above our bed."

Ginny snatched the mistletoe from his fingers and skipped to their bedroom.

By the time Harry had finished saving everything and putting a few ideas down in his notebook, Ginny was standing at his office door in her bikini with his swimming trunks in hand.

"What happened to Christmas?"

"I figured out how to have a snowball fight!" Ginny tossed him his trunks. "Come on!"

Then she headed for their balcony.

Harry couldn't change fast enough.

"Here," Ginny shoved a bowl at him as he stepped out the door to join her. "This is your ammunition, use it wisely because I'm not using any more of our cornflour for it."

"Cornflour?"

"Yes, and hair conditioner, which I've already told Amazon to send more of."

Harry laughed at how Ginny had moved their two patio chairs to make a battle line.

"I can't believe you managed to get us snow when it's 19 degrees out." Harry stuck his hand in his bowl of fake snow and grimaced at the texture.

"YouTube," Ginny shrugged and then jumped to one side of the chair battle line she'd created.

The moment Harry shut the door, she threw a ball of the 'snow' at this bareback and he grimaced at the way it felt sliding along his spine.

"This is an awful cross between that wretched Halloween slime we made in primary and store-bought decor snow."

"Wouldn't know," Ginny shrugged, "seeing as I haven't been hit by any of it."

Harry didn't move fast enough as she threw another 'snow ball' at him and it slid down his side. He groaned as the feeling of it crawling along his side sent shivers across his skin before reaching into his own bowl and tossing a large handful back at Ginny. She ducked and it splatted against the wall behind her.

There wasn't really much 'snow' between the two of them and when he missed Ginny by a hair for the third time, Harry decided to go all in. He jumped up on the patio chairs and pushed his foot on the back of the chair, tipping it over and taking his wife by surprise as he dumped his bowl over her head.

Ginny yelled and shoved him back onto the toppled chair as she threw the last of her snow at his face. Then she collapsed on top of him and laughed as they tried to keep the 'snow' from their eyes.

"I think a shower is in order." Harry pushed his caked glasses up into his hair. "And then what would you like to do next?"

"I have everything out for some Christmas cookies, icing and all." Ginny wiped some snow from her forehead before it could slide completely into her eyes.

"Baking and Christmas carols?"

"And maybe a bit of something else…" Ginny moved to kiss him but immediately backed away when more 'snow' tried to sneak into her eyes.

Harry laughed and pushed them to stand. "Lead a blind man to the shower, won't you?"

After a long shower, Harry wrapped his arms around Ginny's waist as carols played through her phone and she measured out the flour.

"Aside from the tank top, this feels like Christmas."

"Maybe we should spend Christmas in a warmer climate from now on," Ginny brushed a bit of flour on his nose.

"Our mums would probably hunt us down for something like that."

"Ooo, adventure and a holiday, sounds like a book waiting to be a bestseller."

Harry laughed and helped with the cookies and icing. Slipping his phone out here and there to jot down a few notes.

"I thought you told the boss you were off for the day." Ginny pouted as Harry set his phone down to ice another cookie.

"Just writing a few ideas down," Harry leant over and kissed her cheek.

"Typing, not writing," she teased.

"You said you had a surprise for me and to not work through lunch." Harry redirected their conversation.

"Well, I was going to use it to convince you to go along with having a bit of Christmas in April. But since you decided to jump on board without it, I'm saving it for tonight." She bit her lip.

"Tonight, eh?" Harry stood and moved to the fridge.

"Alright, Potter?" Ginny frowned.

"I know that look," Harry started pulling out sandwich fixings. "I'm going to need more than sugar cookies and icing for lunch if you've got that look."

Her laughter felt more genuine in that moment than it had since the world hit pause, and Harry grinned.

They really did need a little Christmas.

They spent the rest of the day 'virtual caroling'. For which his parents not only thanked them but joined in, taking the phone along as they dug up all the Christmas boxes and argued if they could thaw the ham overnight or if they should just make whatever they had on hand for a family Christmas dinner the next day hosted via Zoom meeting.

Harry scrounged up everything for a shepherds pie dinner and they put on A Christmas Carol after as they ate the iced cookies and drank hot chocolate for dessert.

It felt like Christmas.

Harry felt light and he felt happy and he could see the happiness and lightness in Ginny as well. They definitely needed a little Christmas in all of this pandemic insanity.

"Thank you," he kissed her hairline.

Ginny smiled up at him, snuggling closer to his side. "Thank you for being on board. This has been so much fun. I forgot about how awful it is out there."

Harry kissed her, letting himself indulge in the softness of her lips, the taste of chocolate and sugar on her lips.

"Do I still get to see that surprise?" Harry kissed along her jawline to the spot behind her ear that made her breath catch.

Ginny laughed, "Wait here."

She pushed up and slid out of the room with a confidence that made it a strenuous exercise in self-control for Harry to not follow her out of the sitting room.

To distract himself he took out his phone and jotted down a few more notes.

"I might just throw your phone in your office and lock the door."

Harry quickly locked said phone and tossed it on the side table.

Then he looked up.

Ginny had on a Father Christmas cloak, white wig, and a set of glasses that had the white beard attached.

"Wow…"

Ginny laughed and undid the belt that held the robe shut.

Harry's initial confusion dropped instantly as his wife's body was revealed, no imagination needed.

"We're losing the beard," he smirked and moved to gently pull the glasses-beard combo off Ginny's face.

"What Father Christmas doesn't have a long white beard?" She teased as her fingers moved along his waistband.

Harry kissed her slowly as his hands moved slower against her freckled skin.

"The one who is actually my wife," he pulled back before sweeping Ginny into his arms and carrying her back to their bed, and the mistletoe hanging over it.

The sun long set and the moon high in their bedroom window, Harry waited patiently until Ginny's breathing became even and he was sure she was fast asleep. As quietly as he learned to move when he was a child spying on his Christmas gifts, Harry snuck out of their bed and down to his office.

It took the better part of an hour to get it how he wanted it. Then it took another half-hour to get the printer to print it the way he wanted. And another half-hour after that to find the freaking wrapping paper. But after roughly two hours of trying to be silent, Harry snuck into the sitting room to set the gift under the tree.

He went to grab this phone from the side table when a cloaked image came into his peripheral vision and he almost cried out as all the anxiety of a child being caught by Father Christmas came rushing up at him from years as a boy trying to spy on Christmas gifts.

"Why are you out here?" Ginny's groggy voice sounded and Harry felt relief rush through him like a tidal wave.

"Just grabbing my phone. I forgot to plug it in to charge while we slept."

"Come to bed, you're how I don't freeze to death at night."

Harry slipped his arms around Ginny and led them back to bed with a smile on his face.

He hadn't been caught by Father Christmas, but more importantly, his wife would still get her surprise on Christmas morning.

And just like childhood, Harry awoke far too early, and far too excited to go back to sleep. Though rather than for what he would receive, it was for what he was giving.

"Gin," he nuzzled her hairline and kissed her cheek.

Ginny made a sound that was a cross between a moan and a grunt.

"Don't you want to see what Father Christmas left for you?"

"I'm Father Christmas and I didn't leave anything out because it's not actually December the 25th." She mumbled into her pillow.

Harry chuckled. "Let's just go have a look."

Ginny blinked her eyes open and frowned. "Only if I get to come right back to bed."

Harry put his hand over his heart. "I promise, well go see if there are any surprises and then come right back to bed."

"Fine," Ginny pushed up from the bed, her Father Christmas robe slipping from her shoulders. "But if this is how you're going to be with children then we're rethinking our future plans."

Harry laughed and forced himself not to run full tilt down the hall and leave his adorably sleepy wife in the dust.

He held his breath as Ginny moved to the tree and his lone gift that sat wrapped below its branches.

She turned to look up at him, bewildered, "What's this?"

"Open it," he shrugged.

Ginny pulled the wrapping away and slid the booklet from the manilla envelope he'd used to hold it.

"A Holiday and an Adventure," She read aloud. "Harry, what is this?"

Harry stuck a hand in his hair. "Well since you're not on the team for the foreseeable future, and you've always got the best ideas when I'm stuck in a story, I thought maybe, maybe you'd like to write a book together, you and me. All those pages in the booklet are the notes I was jotting down all day yesterday. And I've organized them out the way I do with my novels. If you like the idea and we finish the story, we could send it over to my editor. See what she thinks."

Ginny looked up from the booklet, eyes wide. "You want to write a book with me?"

Harry smiled, "I kind of already do. You're my sounding board and you find more of my plot holes than my editor does. So I guess I'm really asking you to be an active participant so we can put your name on the cover too."

Ginny looked back down at the booklet before launching herself at him. Harry caught her and managed to spin them around so he fell on the sofa and not his back.

"So is this a yes?" Harry chuckled as he kissed her hairline.

Ginny kissed him enthusiastically before jumping up. "Come on! I want to start right now!"

Harry snagged her around the middle before she could go running off. "What happened to wanting to go right back to bed?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Ginny laughed, "do you have any idea how badly I've wanted some real control in your novels?"

"Now you have a story to be in control of." Harry kissed her. "Happy Christmas, Gin."

Ginny's smile shone like the rising run out their sitting room window. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

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amour-de-tous · 4 years ago

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Finally, the update on my health

TW: lots and lots and lots of talk about health, and bad health, in particular, below. So I know I never really updated everyone on What Was (is) Going On With My Health. It’s been a huge mess, and I run out of spoons every day just trying to eat meals at the right times to take my meds. Shortest version possible (believe it or not): at the end of May last year, 2019, pretty much all my joints and extremities swelled up unbelievably. Like I couldn’t put my feet on the floor because they were so swollen it felt like the skin would split open. I had to sit in a chair all day with my feet elevated on a stool and pillows just to keep them from continuing to swell, and I had to sleep with pillows under my feet to keep them from swelling more during the night. I say “sleep” loosely, because I was getting about an hour to two hours of very interrupted sleep every night. The swelling was so bad that just to leave my chair where my feet were elevated, and go sit at the table to eat meals, my feet would swell so bad it was hard for me to walk from the table back to my chair. Then my hands started going numb and tingly, but not in a “my hands are asleep” kind of way, but more an “this is excruciatingly painful but I still can’t feel my hands” kind of way. I couldn’t close my hands into a fist, and I couldn’t open my hands either, they were frozen in a sort of half curled position. There were several weeks where I couldn’t hold a fork or spoon to feed myself. There were months upon months were I couldn’t brush or wash my hair by myself. I spent months with my hands/wrists/feet/ankles packed in ice every 20 minutes to try to control the swelling. I also had this awful brain fog situation where I couldn’t focus on anything. Even if I had been able to hold a book, tablet, or phone (which I couldn’t, because my hands were so bad), I couldn’t read because I had absolutely zero concentration or focus or comprehension. Even watching TV was almost impossible because I would zone out and come back to awareness and so much time had passed I’d have no idea what was going on. I literally spent three or four months just sitting in that chair in pain, staring at the ceiling, crying on and off. So, so much more below the cut.

I could barely attend my niece and nephews baptism. We were there for as long as it took for the actual service to happen, and while I tried to stay for the meal and gifts and such, I was in such excruciating pain--and using a cane to even be able to walk--that we had to leave early. My niece’s 4th birthday was a few weeks later, in late June, and again I was there with a cane and in excruciating pain. I’m my niece’s favourite person and having to tell her Auntie couldn’t get down and play with her, or hold her, was terrible. By the end of June, my PCP had run enough tests to be outside his area of knowledge and referred me out to a rheumatologist. The earliest the one I wanted to see could see me was January. This was the first week of July. So I looked around for whoever could see me first and chose them. The soonest someone could see me was, unfortunately, on my birthday last year, July 15th. So I spent my birthday seeing the rheumatologist, being diagnosed with carpal tunnel, tendinitis, and what he suspected was rheumatoid arthritis. Once I left his office, I spent my birthday getting bloodwork (8 vials, yikes, which continued monthly for the remainder of 2019), and then getting fitted for a set of wrist braces that I would have to sleep in for maybe the rest of my life, and wear during the day when the pain was so bad. The rheumatologist literally said to me “well, none of your labwork confirms this and we don’t really know, but we’re gonna treat you as if you had rheumatoid arthritis”. Although he kept running tests to try to confirm the RA, he didn’t look anywhere else to try and figure out what I actually have. So they started me on medication(s), and referred me to occupational therapy and physical therapy. I was so bad when I started going that my PT consisted of sitting in a chair and (trying) to flex my ankles in different directions, and then a lymph massage to try to reduce swelling. My occupational therapy, when I started, consisted of trying to pick up pieces of sponges and put them in a cup. I was so bad that was actually almost impossible for me. They also referred me out to have a nerve conduction test, where they stuck needles all through my arms and electrified them. It was the worst thing ever, let me tell you. Then I got referred to a hand surgeon (who is lovely, actually) for surgery. He decided to hold off on surgery and see if steroid shots would help (they did, to an extent, and I am so grateful for that). Fast forwards through months and months of testing and bloodwork and physical and occupational therapies and medications, and the swelling had reduced enough that I could stand up or walk to the bathroom or eat dinner without swelling up so bad anymore. Being at PT and OT still meant I came home and had to pack my feet and wrists in ice and elevate to take care of the extra swelling, but it was better. Not good, not right, but better. Fast forward more, still, and it’s December. At that point I could stand long enough to help cook dinner, or even run an errand or two before I was in too much pain and had to sit and elevate again. In mid-March they released me from PT and OT. Not because I was better--I still couldn’t (and can’t, now) bend my wrists at all--but because the prescription had run out. I’d basically used all the allotted amount I had. This ended up being alright in the long run, since aside from one trip to the lab for bloodwork, I haven’t left my house since my last day of OT on March 13th, due to Covid. Turns out having an auto-immune disease and being on immunosuppresants makes you REAL high risk for Covid, and I’m just not playing that game. At the beginning of April, I finally got to see the rheumatologist I WANTED to see all along (via video visit! Didn’t even have to leave my house and be exposed!). She’s awesome and is really set on finding an ACTUAL diagnosis for me and not just saying “we don’t know”. Had 9 vials taken from me in her first round of bloodwork, and then she said it looked like it could be Lupus and did more tests. She’s now pretty certain I DON’T have Lupus OR rheumatoid arthritis. I had an appointment with her at the very end of July (video, again), and it turns out she thinks I have something called sarcoidosis. This is going to require a CT scan, for my lungs and heart, to see if the disease is in them. Evidently with this particular auto-immune disease, your body overreacts and encapsulates what it thinks are dangerous foreign bodies (but really are just part of your own immune system) and creates “granulomas” around them. Basically think of an oyster creating a pearl around an invading body, except in this case instead of pearls, I have lumps of stuff that hurts me. Horrifying to know I have to walk into a hospital at this point in time, of my own free will. Like I said before, aside from one set of bloodwork, I haven’t been exposed or been out where I could be exposed at ALL. All that goes out the window once I walk into a hospital for a CT scan. :\ After the CT scan, depending on the results, there’s other tests I’ll need. Chest x-rays, EKGs, pulmonary function tests, lung biopsies (YIKES) and others. She seems fairly confident that this is the correct diagnosis for me, but wants confirmation and also to see progression of disease. At any rate, she’ll be changing my medication. Which sucks for so many reasons, not the least of which is I just picked up 360 tablets of it that I now won’t be taking. :| Also the fact that now I get to try a new medication and do the “am I having side effects or am I just anxious” song and dance. She’s also talking about needing to put me on steroids which I am REALLY unhappy about. I suppose it’s better to go on steroids than to die, but I’m still really unhappy about it. In other, related news, I’ve developed hypercalcemia. Which means there’s too much calcium in my blood, which can cause a HOST of other problems. So I’ve been put on a no-dairy, low calcium diet. Do you know how many items have calcium in them? Almost everything, that’s what. Also, they fortify all the non-dairy “milk” products with calcium. They all have as much or MORE calcium than dairy milk. It’s been a NIGHTMARE, to the point where I’m actually afraid of food now. I’m obsessively reading labels and doing research online. “How much calcium is in 81 grams of kiwi, after all?”. Nightmare. Dairy was my #1 love and foodgroup, and having to suddenly figure out all new things to eat and ways to cook while simultaneously being in pain and *exhausted* 24/7 because auto-immune is not. fun. at. all. It’s already all my energy every day to help make, eat, and clean up a meal. I literally have to sit in my chair after a meal with my feet elevated to recover. Now having to spend all this energy on a whole new diet plan is a nightmare. Basically this whole thing has been a MESS. It’s been 15 months, I’ve been being treated for the wrong disease for 14 months, the news I’m getting now is worse than the news that flattened my emotional response all those months ago, I still can’t function, and I can’t work. Oh, yeah. I haven’t played an instrument since May 2019. My whole life revolved around my music, and now I can’t even play to make myself feel better, because my hands don’t work. I’ve also been out of work since then, too: my last concert was April 2019. I haven’t made any money since. But I have had co-pays out the wazoo! Which reminds me that they raised the price on two of my meds, because of course they did. Thanks, congress. This has been really, really hard. My anxiety has skyrocketed through this, and my depression isn’t doing much better. Although physically I’m not as bad as I was, I’m nowhere near normal, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back to my normal again, either. The best I’m hoping for at this point is to be able to eat calcium again someday, to not have my organs eaten up by this disease, and to continue existing. It’s been exhausting. It really, really has. That’s not to mention the added stress and anxiety over Covid, and the fact that neither mom nor I can even go to a grocery store because of my high-risk status. We’re averaging getting groceries about once a month right now. It’s super fun now because I have to read the label on EVERYTHING but Aldi doesn’t post their nutrition labels online and!!! That means I have to either guess or not get things! Great! All this to say that I miss being on tumblr. I miss all my friends here. I miss talking to you all and being able to laugh with you and geek out. Things have been really hard for me (and there are multitudes I haven’t included in here; even if my hands would allow that much typing, I’d probably hit a character limit. Just: I miss you all. I love you. I’ve been a wreck, but I think of you all often. <3

#health stuff #diagnosis #health talk #medication talk #eating talk #uhhhh what else #needles talk #blood talk #disability talk #I'M A MESS Y'ALL #i love you and miss you #ponderings and musings #asa health stuff

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purplesurveys · 5 years ago

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695

How do you feel about the last person you hugged? That hug with Gabie was almost four weeks ago, buuuut she’s my girlfriend and I love her a lot, and I can trust her with everything. Do you ever say 'OMG' in person? Yeah but I try to lessen it now because I think I’m literally the only one left who still has the tendency to say the initials hahaha. Who was the last person you really felt like punching? This fucker named Sam Morales. A trans woman – this’ll be important later on – tweeted out their story about how Sam catfished her for 8 months and even recruited her friends to join in on the catfishing, and apparently it was all borne from Sam’s homophobia and transphobia. The girl revealed that Sam was bullied by gay boys when she was younger, so it sparked a lifelong hatred for LGBTQIA+ individuals and ever since then she’s been targeting just them for her catfishing. When the woman told her story, a lot of other LGBTQIA+ folks came forward with their similar experiences with Sam and her cronies. It’s a big deal because as it turns out, Sam has a pretty reputable position in the local media industry, has rubbed shoulders with important celebrities, and has done ads for companies like H&M that we unknowingly pass by everyday, so it’s been infuriating having to hear someone use her position to abuse those already in a marginalized position, and having to use her childhood trauma to traumatize others. Are you taller for your age, shorter, or average? Average for a Filipino, shorter if we’re talking global lol. Did you tell your last girlfriend/boyfriend that you love them? Yeah I make sure to remind her everyday.

How do you know the last person you hung out with? We went to the same school for 14 years but we were personally introduced to each other in Grade 7. If you went to the beach right now, what would you bring? A pair of bikinis, a beach robe, sunscreen, flip-flops, the bottle of soju my dad just bought for me this morning haha, my wallet for extra cash, and Gabie. Where did you get the clothes you wore today? My shirt is from the school intramurals for when I was a sophomore and my bitch of a teammate insisted that we have our own table tennis ~jerseys, even though we didn’t really need it. But she didn’t take no for an answer so I relented and now I have this dumb shirt that wasn’t even free. My shorts are from some store and I just bought it cos I needed it as part of a costume a few years ago, so now I just wear it around the house. What's better: a surprise or knowing you're going to get it? I like knowing there’s a surprise in store, but I prefer not knowing what the surprise is just yet. Just tell me I have a surprise and I won’t be antsy, haha. Does your weight have three numbers in it? Nope. Can you taste the difference between store brand food and brand name food? We don’t buy store-brand food, so I don’t know if I’d be able to tell the difference. Do you know anyone whose last name starts with P? Sure, there’s a number of people - Pia, Summer, Hannah, Kate, Reiven, etc. When's the last time you were on neopets? 2007. Someone wakes you up at 3am, what's your first thought? Ok first of all, big chance I’d still be up by then lmao. But hypothetically, if I was woken up that late I’d be...groggy at first, then when that fades I’d be a little pissed. What's the last time you got in a vending machine? Bottled water. What was the last thing your parents got mad at you for? My mom got mad when she found out I lent my new UP varsity jacket to a friend even though it was to help out that friend, who had to walk through the rain but didn’t have an umbrella -_____- I don’t remember my dad getting mad at me recently. Have you ever had a bathing suit fall off of you while swimming? Yep but it was always while swimming at the beach/in the sea so I was thankfully always hidden haha. Where do you go when you skip school? If I wanna skip the whole day I just stay at home. But if there’s one or two classes I feel like cutting in the middle of the day, I stay at my org’s common area which is somewhere in the college. Do your pets have favorites? My dog definitely loves me more than anyone else in my family. He still growls at each of them at times. Do find flirting over IM easier then in person? OMG noooo I hate doing stuff like that on IM/text. I can’t even sext, I find it too awkward having to type out actions or parts of the anatomy shjdgfdjfkdhg. What were you thinking about five minutes ago? I was playing Mario Kart on the Switch that long ago so I was most likely concentrated on not fucking up and ending on the off-road area. Have you ever heard the last person you laughed with swear? Yes. If the last person you called were in the hospital, would you visit them? For sure. I’d bring my dad’s quarantine pass and go through all the checkpoints. Are there any dirty dishes in the room you're in? Nope. How many people could sleep comfortably in the room you're in? It’s the dining room so it’s not the most conducive for sleeping... but uhhh I guess around 10-15 can fit here, as long as we remove the dining table and chairs and replace everything with mattresses. Would you like to have a treadmill in your house? I wouldn’t mind if we had one. What's the longest you've ever liked someone without telling them? I only seriously liked Gabie and it took me arounddd 11 months. Do/did you prefer your english or math teacher? I’m not taking either subject anymore. Would you rather live with your parents or your grandparents? Parents. I love all my grandparents, though. I just feel like the generation gap is strongest there and that we have a different set of religious and political beliefs, and so staying with them long enough would only drive me insane. Where were you 3 hours ago? I was in the living room playing the Switch. Did you prank anyone on April fool's day? That’s tomorrow, and no I don’t plan on fooling anyone in my family.

Can/Did you get away with skipping class? Sure did. The only time it backfired was when I cut my Psych 101 elective around 10 times? And my final grade was 1.75. Totally deserved it. When is the last time you were on a swingset? Last December. One of my titas has a playground at their place that I grew up playing in, so I rode the swing for old time’s sake. At sleepovers, do you usually sleep on a bed, couch or floor? Depends on what the friend has to offer. I sleep with Gab and Angela on their beds and when I slept over at Laurice’s she offered us mattresses on the floor. Rita had a couch in their guest room that I called dibs on. When's the last time you wished you could just disappear? Why? Last Thursday when I became the target of bullying in a private group consisting of people in my high school. It didn’t last very long but it still reopened some wounds/trauma I closed long ago, so it sucked for a while. What's the sweetest thing a gf/bf can do to get you to forgive them? Getting me finger food that I like, like Mini Donuts, Potato Corner, or Auntie Anne’s hehe. Do you dislike when surveys ask to describe your underwear? Yeah a little bit lol. It’s uncomfortable but I answer them the best I can anyway.

What was your last sent text about? I haven’t had load on my phone for a couple of weeks. I don’t really need them these days because I’m stuck at home anyway. What would you do if the last person you hugged proposed to you? Ask them if it’s a dare. Who do you talk to the most in science? In my last science-related class (though it was 2 years ago lmao) I was talking to Alliyah the most cos she was the only one I knew in that class. Did you check to see how much fat/calories was in the last thing you ate? No. I know it’s unhealthy, though. If the last person you kissed gave you roses, what would you do? Right now? I’d get mad that she violated quarantine rules just to do that, but I’d be appreciative anyway. Do you need to wash your hair? Not yet.

#survey #surveys

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mybravesong · 6 years ago

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Fundraising Update

Hello from sunny Singapore. It’s been about 3 weeks since we started fundraising for the School of Evangelism. In total, we’re around 1/4 of $10,000 goal. In 3 weeks!! Can you believe it? I really want to pause here and give a shout out to many who are championing what God is doing in and through me. I can only response with deep gratitude towards God and towards you. I do love to be transparent about amounts I’m getting from sales + donations so I’ve put up a dashboard here: https://www.thedash.com/dashboard/Nk949Jax6

I know people are asking why fundraise? why not just work? I 100% totally understand that. I too found that it would be easier to just work and raise the money myself and believe me, I very much wanted to. But haha as you know,

Isaiah 55:8-9 “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord.

“As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.

God had other plans. He said, “No, I want you to fundraise. I don’t want this to be about what you can do and accomplish by yourself. But I want this to be about relationship - relationship with Me and relationship with others. I want you to collab with others.”. With much trembling, I said - ok God, I will take a step of obedience and fundraise. What happened afterwards was nothing short of amazing. God brought alongside people. I didn’t ask but He just brought people. People who were filled with excitement for God to work, who were inspired by Him. GOD DESERVES ALL THE GLORY AND ALL THE PRAISE FOR THIS. Words cannot express the encouragement I’ve felt as you’ve all avail yourselves to partner with us on this ride of a lifetime - from the Adult Zone to Friends and Family (if I could I would name all of you!!!). You continue to spur me on towards Christ and His purposes. It’s been nothing short of crazy and I am humbled by your love, encouragement and generosity.

What have you been up to? As some of you know, I am currently in Singapore. Why am I in Singapore while my friends and family are holding the fort in Perth? That is yet another interesting story on it’s own. On the day I returned home, I received a letter from the Singapore government to renounce my Singapore citizenship! Honestly, I love love Singapore to bits - I’m what you called patriotic. Love the people, love the food, just love this country! To give it up was such a hard hard thing to do but God reminded me just before I went to sleep, “Lynn, remember your identity isn’t tied to a country.”. I woke up the next day and remembered an experience I had during my discipleship training school. This was the experience. DAY 64 Saturday (8 Sept)

I woke up around 7.30am? God wanted me to go to swan River. I didn’t want to (because it was about an hr before breakfast, I was feeling lazy and it looked like it was gonna rain) but He really wanted me to go so I got ready and went. As I was walking I was singing the song he is the light light light light of the world. All throughout, it was cloudy but you could see the sun was just very bright behind the clouds. When I got to the swan River, I stood and waited. I looked down and suddenly I heard shouts from the river. It was a bunch of people rowing in a boat and the coach shouting directions in a speedboat next to it.

They paused in the middle of the river and I thought they were gonna turn back but the coach was talking to the rowers (there were 2 sets of them). Then they went further down the river. I walked a little further and sat at a bench, then I saw a train and it looked like the Singapore train and God asked me if I would lay down my identity as Singaporean and I said I have but he said not entirely and I said it’ll be hard but I’ll let it go if You want me to. As I got up from the bench, the sun came out at that same timing and the sky was just suddenly clear and the sun shined so brightly and as I walked up the stairs back on the path back to the base, God said I am the light of the world (I felt the warmth of the sun on my back) and he said just like the coach was with the rowers each step of the way, I am with You. You know what you must do.

At the time, I had thought that God wanted me to go into missions but He is so kind. He’s asked me about letting go my citizenship before I even saw the letter. He is so gentle and good. I checked the date in which the government had sent the letter and it was the exact same week I had this experience. It was so clear, He wanted me to give it up. Who was I to refuse Him? Who was I to say no to the one who loves me the most? I said, “ok God I’ll do it.. in April.” I thought, I’d do it but I’ll do it when it would be most convenient in April(I’d be back for my cousin’s wedding and stopover in Singapore) but God was taking it one step further, He said I want you to walk in activeness and not in passivity. He wanted me to go to Singapore as soon as I could to get it done. At that moment I told Him, are you kidding me? I don’t have the money God, how? This was His answer. When I was having a meal with my family, I suddenly remembered - my sisters(my sweetie pies) had decided together that for my birthday in Dec 2018, they’d give a total of $300 just for the specific use of flight travel. The amount I needed was $298 so it just covered it with $2 to spare. Wow, He had already known. God is so good.

So, here I am now in a tiny red dot near the equator. This is what I’ve been up to so far, I’ve since renounced my citizenship and had to opportunity to partner with my good friend - Jamie in JB in macaroon making. She prayed about it and decided to give me part of the proceeds. LIKE WHUTT?! It was something unexpected.

Jamie and I (she makes bomb macaroons!! follow her at @jaeybakes on instagram)

Did a little semi-babysitting (they’re cute)

I’ve also got the chance to spend time with my extended family! God is truly good. If I’d not listen to His prompting, I’d have miss out on moments like these! <3

my grandpa, (Really thank God for sustaining him in health!) , my aunty and I

My cousins & I - gosh I miss this bunch of humans.

My cousin Teri and I

On top of that, I’ve had so many opportunities to share what Christ is doing and to encourage others in their walk with God (especially over chinese new year). It’s been so good catching up with all my aunties and uncles!! I’m thinking over all these moments and I’m just amazed at how God is orchestrating this! This has no means been an easy 3 weeks. There are days where I am still filled with doubt, but the best part of God’s nature is - doubts will always come but He CONSTANTLY without fail reassures the direction He has called us to take - through people, through His word. I’m amazed and so thankful! I love that what He said in DTS remains true, that He is with me wherever I go. His love is so comforting, so reassuring and so BIG! This is the God that came down to die for us, the God that said, I’ve traded your sins for my blessings. What an honour it is to serve Him!

I just want to take a moment and encourage you. Perhaps you’re in a bit of a situation yourself, you’re surrounded by doubts about the future, look to Him. He is able to supply your every need! :) His love is constant and He does not shift like shadows, no matter your circumstance. If there’s anything I can keep you in prayer for - drop me a message! I’ll be happy to!!

Please also do continue to uphold the fundraising and my time in Singapore in prayer. :)

#jesus #ywamperth #fundraising #singapore #cny2019

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aslimeylovestory · 4 years ago

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Chapter 1: Happy Slime Day

It was Tuesday evening in the spring time in early April, Cashus was turning 22 years old today and worked at a local barbershop in the neighborhood he grew up in, anticipating to get off to start his celebration instead he was doing some last cleaning up around the barber shop he worked at. He loved to cut hair since he was a young boy, watching his father really rubbed off on him, there was a lot of self-taught barbers in those Cuban slums.

“Ayo pa, I’ma go ahead and get out of here….I’ll see you Thursday morning”. Cashus yelled from the front of the shop to the back to the owner.

As Donny the owner walked to the front he said “Damn son, you must got a young thing waiting on you” he laughed.

“Nah man, I’m just tryna get home to change and go meet the bros to celebrate” said Cashus.

“Aight my man, take it easy and enjoy your night, I’ll see you next time you work. Happy Birthday again.” Said Donny.

Cashus walked a few blocks and was on his way home to his Aunt’s apartment that he lived with. Aunt Keys real name Keyshia, was the sister in law of Cashus’s Father , which is his brother Fernando’s wife, and is currently incarcerated due to a stabbing at a bar one night five years ago. We’ll get into that later on down the line.

Finally making it inside, Aunt Key greeted me as I walked into the living room. “Heyyyy Cash, come give ya Auntie a hug, I thought you would’ve been home a little early today since its ya born day neph!”

“I knew my plans wouldn’t be until later on in the day, so I stayed to make some extra bread”.

“I know baby, you’re one hustling mother F’er. You remind me so much of your dad and uncle”. She said with a smile and slight tear drop rolling down her right cheek. “I seen that in you ever since you was a little boy, now my boy all grown and shit” she added while walking away lighting up a cigarette.

“Yeah yeah, I thought you was quitting them shits” I said laughing side-eyeing her.

“I’m a little stressed Cash….. your uncle hasn’t called today and that’s unlike him” She said putting the Bic lighter to her cigarette.

“I really do miss him” She cried as she took a puff while her other hand rubbed her head in stress.

I can’t lie like I don’t feel her, its times where I be in deep thought about my parents, seeing their faces one day and next day gone just like that, so can’t nobody on this earth tell me I don’t feel them on that pain tip! I’m staying strong for people, my Auntie Keys know she has nothing to worry about as long as I’m her nephew. Family is all we got, a code I live by.

Later that night I linked up with the bros and had some drinks at this bar in the city, then afterwards we headed to go gambling out Atlantic City. I grew up with these niggas since migrated to the states. My life in Cuba as a boy slowly faded over the years and I started a new life and I honestly can’t see anything past my mom and pops. People in my neighborhood became my family, but shit still wasn’t sweet out here. I done been through fights all throughout my school life, especially as a lil nigga when I my English was bad. Thirteen years ago all I knew was Spanish now all I speak is ebonics, I made my name in my hood. The ladies love my crew and I, but I’ve yet to wife up any of these broads because there’s no money in that particular sport.

After making it to Atlantic City, we gambled our ass off and got bent off the liquor and even rolled us a few spliffs in the cut of the casino. Honey’s was on us, you know they come from all over on the East coast to come out here for a good time.

“Man ain’t y’all tired of this area now?” I said hitting the weed.

“Bro yes! We should go gambling in Vegas next time.” My bro Zack said.

“Fuck no, I’m talking about forget the gambling shit and do big shit”

“How are we gonna do big shit without this money we make from gambling though bro?” My other bro Bryan added in.

“Y’all niggas need to expand ya minds more, the fuck we gonna keep studying this light shit, while its niggas our age getting to it for real out here”. I said dumping ashes of the joint and passing it.

“What the fuck? How we supposed get it, because I agree but my job ain’t paying me enough” Said Zack laughing looking at Bryan.

“I say we start taking niggas shit, I mean they doing that to another nigga anyways, we just gotta make our operation way more smoother than theirs.” I said with this crazy smirk on my face.

Yeah I forgot to mention I came from a family with a long list of dealers, robbers, and murderers. It was in my blood, my uncle been taking the most popular crews in the whole NYC since before I was born, he had fled Cuba and made a life over here after he vacationed her and met my Aunt Keyshia, Uh huh she was a bad shorty that used to set niggas up, which is how she met my Tio when he had boat loads of cocaine coming into Miami all the way to New York that my pops had sent off. A known dealer was trying to get my tio knocked off so he sent his what you call a bottom bitch to get at my tio and it ended up back firing when my uncle bagged his lady and they’ve been inseparable since. I know y’all thinking how could my uncle trust her after she was sent to do dirty work for another man, but hey when you a smooth wise guy like my uncle anything is possible. I say that to say it runs in the blood and I got no problem handling big business. My uncle serving time for brutally stabbing an unwise guy who tried to run down on him at a bar enjoying his night out with the wife. I promised my Aunt that I wouldn’t follow in his footprints or steps, whatever they say out here, but living by the rules will have you finishing in last place every time.

Later as the night got old in age we went to our room we had booked near the casino with three rooms in it and three ladies we was kicking it with. I was faded and all I knew was I had this girl on her knees giving me good head, I wasn’t even tryna sleep with her afterward or lick nothing so I sent her on her way and knocked out in my hotel bed. All in all I’m happy to see another year but something had to give ASAP, I sat in my thoughts planning a master plan for me and my crew to come up on smoking another spliff before I called it a night.

#Pooh Shiesty #Pooh Shiesty Fanfic

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etc-greys · 7 years ago

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Season 14 Episode 7: Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

Songs of The Episode:

Young Folks by The Wind And The Wave

Cosy in the Rocket by PSAPP

They by Congratulationz ft CavasBeta

Keep Breathing by Congratulationz

Such Great Heights by Madi Diaz & K.S. Rhoads

Portions for Foxes by Rilo Kiley

Synopsis:

*Warning this episode is extremely nostalgic and it is advised that you have your tissues ready*

The episode dives right into your feels as it opens with Mer on the beloved Seattle Ferryboat, yes that's right the boat that was once on Derek’s scrub cap -now housed by Mer- and the same boat that takes you to where the fantastical dream house was built. Accompanying her is Alex, as they descend back to the hospital. It is presumed that she went to see Derek and tell him about her prestigious Harper Avery nomination, when Alex asks, “How was it, was he happy for you?” To which she replied with a smile “No, he was jealous,” reminding us of their extremely competitive, yet ever motivating relationship.

Meanwhile Amelia walks in on Carina and Owen cooking naked… Amelia and Owen try to cover the awkward moment, but just ends in Amelia stealing some French toast while leaving hastily. Then we jump to Bailey as she’s walking to work with Ben driving alongside her trying to convince her to join him. She found out about the fire academy and to say she’s displeased would be an understatement. Arizona is painting every possible color on Sophia’s room, as she anxiously awaits her daughter’s arrival.

Another note of nostalgia as we see the new interns in the historic hallway (aka the tunnels) with the excess hospital beds. We are reminded of our favorite sleep deprived interns, the originals who grew up in those halls to be the doctors they are today. Mer is hesitant to leave for Boston where the Harper Avery Awards will take place. Alex tries to convince her, but is unsuccessful when a incoming trauma comes in. Deluca is still avoiding his ex, Sam.

The medical trauma this week: a rollercoaster ride gone awry! The first patient, who saved a bunch of children, is under the care of Owen and Amelia. Webber briefs Mer and Alex on the two patients who were transferred in the rollercoaster cart in which they crashed, for it would’ve been to life threatening to remove prior to their arrival at Grey Sloan. But wait, don’t they look familiar…. OMG they are the George and Cristina doppelgangers… but wait their friend just stepped out of the ambulance to check on them and… she is Izzie’s pregnant doppelganger. What.. what… and on que, the original theme song begins to play. Boy are we in for a treat.

Jackson tries to convince Mer to get moving, but she’s not leaving the trauma. Also it turns out the doppelgangers are doctors, they interning at Seattle Press! Bailey sends Ben to the Clinic as a punishment. Jackson checks in on Bailey to see where she is on the contest, but is quickly swerved when she confronts him about her husband’s career change and whether he happened to know about it when he had given her the money. Then we get a major throwback as we see Owen push Amelia back when he tells her that the hero doesn’t need a CT, but instead must be rushed to surgery. I’m sure this triggers you, just as well as me, back to that same decision that ultimately killed Derek. When we recall the tragedy of Derek’s death we reflect on a simple diagnosis that can be captured by quick CT and then fixed by an immediate surgery. Unfortunately, if this bleed is not seen right away, the patient will be gone, even if the rest of their body is healed by other surgeries. Alex is in shock at seeing Izzie, as Jo walks up for advice. He tells Jo that since she’s always wondered what she was like and surprised, Jo describes her as pretty and perky. Then Izzie comes up to them to check in on her friends, when he’s at a loss for words and Jo just watches him struggle in the most comical way. Izzie begins to lose her balance, and Alex swoops in to catch her. Another major tbt to when he carried Izzie after Denny’s heart wrenching death.

The intensity rises as baby George is unable to breathe when they remove part of the car seat. No worries, Webber has the fix, Mer must hold traction on his head. They are confused why everyone continues to stare at them and Mer fesses up, she tells them it's because they remind everyone of George and Cristina. To which baby Cristina freaks out and yells at them not to stare.

Little Izzie has an ultra sound done, and finds out that her baby has a tumor on it’s placenta. She must have surgery to get it removed, as it is very dangerous. Fearful, Izzie grabs Alex’s hand and Jo address the weirdness of the situation, but at the same time understands. Mer is still holding traction and Jackson comes by to help. When baby Cristina realizes who the both of them are, her tune changes and she relates them to surgical royalty. Katherine and Jackson nearly convinced Mer to go to the awards, when after they transported baby George, baby Cristina’s stats started to plummet. She then tells Jackson to go in her place.

April makes her own attempt to convince Mer to go, but baby Cristina begs her not to. She claims Mer to be her idol and asks of her to think of her best friend (the real Cristina) and to save her like she would her best friend, to fight for her with the same vigor. Pulling at all of are heartstrings and nearly bringing Mer to tears. Jackson announces that Mer’s not going, so Maggie and Zola stay behind as the Avery’s depart. Amelia rushes to the OR with a portable CT when she finds out that Owen had ignored her order. He accuses her of being upset about his encounter with Carina, you know the one she walked in on. But she proves him wrong when the CT discovers a brain bleed (an expanding epidural hematoma to be exact) in which she must operate immediately. After gloating a bit to Owen, he then apologizes for doubting her. She explains that he was partially right, in that she was thinking of Derek and that in doing so he saved a man’s life today.

Webber and Bailey check in on baby George who blames himself for endangering his friends, when all he wanted was to have a little fun outside of working. His self- deprecating, selflessness, and innocence, triggers Bailey to recall the real George, a man who helped deliver her baby, who was really a part of her family, and whose death she mourned daily for over a year after the tragic incident occurred. Interestingly enough, when Webber goes to comfort her, he finds out that the tears are from her anger with Ben. Unfortunately their moment was interrupted by the sounds of banging in the skills lab (notice the accidental word play hahaha), to which Sam, followed by Deluca exited. Deluca consults his sister about his recent love affair with Sam, one that she’s seen the end result time and again.

April is angry with Mer for taking her Harper Avery nomination for granted, and inadvertently expresses her jealousy. She feels inferior, but Mer reminds her that she is not average, that she is incredible and ultimately she should give herself more credit. And she also expresses how deeply she does want the award. Arizona, Jo, and Alex must perform an emergency c-section on Izzie, because the baby is in distress. Arizona remembers Mark in comforting Izzie. She remembers his calmness, his charm, and his kindness. In this beautiful moment, she delivers the baby and also comforts herself as she prepares for her daughter's arrival, he reminds her of her strength, and instills confidence in her to be a fulltime mom again.

In one of my absolute favorite scenes of the episode, to which I cried a little if we’re being honest, Zola proves that she is wise beyond her years. She tells Maggie that she’s going be a brain surgeon like her father, before admitting that she missed her dad and then asked Maggie if she missed her mom. When Maggie answers with an almost tearful yea, Zola then recounts what she believes her mama would say: “Even though your mom’s not here, she’s always with you.” To end this beautiful moment she offers her aunty a hug.

Webber and Bailey save baby George, but not without wishing they had been able to do the same for the real George. Izzie’s baby is okay! Alex lets her hold baby Jasper for just a few minutes before he must take him to the NICU, but in this moment we see Arizona and Karev marvel in their past memories.

Bailey is scared of Ben’s commitment issues. But he explains that he just wants to try this while he is still young and able, he doesn’t want to live his life with regrets. Before they are able to finish their conversation, Webber grabs Bailey since Jackson is on the phone.

Another tear jerker. Jo tells Alex to call Izzie to get closure and see how she’s doing. Instead he tells her the story that she’s made up for her in his mind, one that is intricate, personal, and a bit of a nod at how Katherine Heigl is actually living, a tale in which she’s extremely happy. He tells her that he doesn’t need to call her because he doesn’t want to ruin it and he feels that “she’s as happy as I am with you.” Then they lean back in silence, just so happily in love and mature enough, grown enough, comfortable enough to acknowledge their past and embrace it, as it poses no threat to their future (that is his ex doesn’t, her ex poses a detrimental threat to their happiness, but I digress, let us be happy in this moment).

You know what, don’t even bother putting your tissues away. After Mer and April’s surgery, Bailey and Webber bring the Harper Avery awards to her as they project the show on the TV in the OR. All of the doctors along with Zola watch from the gallery as Catherine Avery announces that Meredith Grey has WON THE HARPER AVERY. Jackson gives the most heartwarming, eloquent, and masterful speech about Mer’s dedication to surgery, to her patients, and that despite her personal tragedies, she’s remained a gracefully innovative person/surgeon. He also pays tribute to her fallen sister, Lexie, who was one of my absolute favorite characters. As Mer along with all the doctors marvel in the moment, they pan the camera to the gallery where we see Mer looking up to a familiar face. Her mother applauds her with the proudest of smiles and we see the joy on Mer’s face in knowing that her mother is indeed looking down on her extraordinary daughter.

Back at Arizona’s house, we see little Sophia as she arrives back home. She expresses how much she misses her mama and Arizona admits that she does too (a nod to Callie who is happy in NYC). As Arizona comforts her daughter with ice cream, there’s a close up of the first family photo of Mark, Arizona, Callie, and Sophia, the one that was taken so many seasons ago, paying homage to the fallen and the departed.

Things get steamy back at the hospital as Deluca and Sam hook up in the infamous on call room. Mer shows Owen baby Cristina, but he denies their similarities, to which she mentions Burke (saying that she should ask him if they look alike), thus another tribute to departed. He also reminds her that no one is like Cristina, true that Owen!

Mer and Alex kick the interns outta the tunnels as they celebrate together Mer’s epic and well deserved win. Cristina then facetimes in as they all enjoy champagne.

A Few Additional Thoughts:

First of all, this episode was incredible and had a lot of nods to the epicness of Grey’s Anatomy’s 300 episodes! Kudos to the entire cast, crew, and writers on the incredible work they’ve done. This episode was truly special and definitely worth the watch. My praises are endless and thus I’ve decided to dedicate a whole other post to commemorate 300 episodes of Greys and the impact it’s had. So for more info, check out our next post!

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happy-meo · 8 years ago

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Forgive Me. [JHope/Hoseok; Angst]

"If I could see you again I, I want to show you everything I have. My heart that’s beating to hold you tight, I want to convey it all to you, I, for real for real, until you hold this sincerity in your embrace once again." - J-Hope

[From “Hug Me” Taehyung & J-hope version; Trans cr; @BTS0222]

The sequel to "Hug Me". [Please read that first.]

Summary: How can one gain forgiveness from someone who is no longer in a position to give it? How can one be forgiven if they refuse to forgive themselves? How can one move forward to the future... if the past was so much better?

Hoseok x Reader/ Hoseok x his daughter; Angst

A/N: So this is the REAL thing that I was writing during my plane ride >.< since it was safe to write with public eyes around lol I’m sorry for the April Fool’s joke, but anyways, here is the angst that no one asked for. :)

Hoseok was never the same again after the death of his wife. No longer did his smile radiate like the sun, no longer did his laughter ring infectiously. Days after his wife's death, he locked himself inside his house with his daughter, tormented by the questions of her young mind.

"Where's mommy?" she constantly asked.

And he knew she was innocent. He knew that his daughter knew nothing and that you had wanted to keep it that way. Everything you had done was to protect both of them. You had shouldered all of the pain and the burden. He was angry at himself, at you, at the world. Why had things sequenced themselves so cruelly? Why, when he just realized how precious and irreplaceable you were in his life, did you have to be taken away? He would give anything for a few more months, a few more days, a few more hours. He had so many places he wanted to show you, so many things to say, so much love to give. But he didn't use the time he had been given with you, as he had promised, and he regretted it dearly.

He didn't deserve you. You didn't deserve the neglect. You didn't deserve to be married to him, to live a life where you had to fight for attention and love, where you couldn't lean on him when you needed him most. What kind of husband had he been, to not notice your weight loss, the frailty of your once energetic figure, the silence and hesitancy in your words and actions? There had been so many signs that he had been too blind to notice. If he had just paid attention, he could've coerced you to open up to him. Then maybe he would've known, he wouldn't have been so stupid and blind. Then with his love, you might've been cured miraculously. With his support, you would've been more determined to live. If you didn't have to hide and be cautious, you could've done what you always wanted to with your limited time left. You three could've been the kind of family that you two used to dream and giggle about, even for a little while.

But maybe these were all excuses...would things really have been different? Would he have truly learned his lesson if you had lived? Would he have valued your presence if you were still around? He had heard it said so many times in his life, but now he truly felt the weight of the words that stated, "You never know what you had until it is lost." He was afraid of himself. He was frightened of who he had become. Why did it take your life ending for him to realize it?

He held onto his daughter tightly every night, the only piece of you he could grasp onto. Since he wasn't home a lot before as she was growing up, he never realized how much she had taken after you. Her mannerisms, the way she talked in a matter-of-fact tone, the way she brushed her hair out of her eyes, even the small crease that furrowed between her brows when she was concentrated on something -- she had clearly adopted them from you.

Hope.

How appropriate.

The two of you had named your daughter that, for you had placed on her all of your dreams, the beautiful future of having a family.

At first, she constantly looked for her mother. A young child, ignorant to the toll of sickness and death, and Hoseok couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth. So he found various ways to avoid and stray from the topic, until it was never brought up anymore. And they fell into a routine; the comfortable life of two. And Hoseok poured every single fiber of his love into taking close care of his daughter, your daughter.

And after your untimely departure, Hoseok never looked at another. He never dared. The pain was too unbearable. How could he? How could he love another if he never properly loved the woman he had vowed to love forever? How could he take care of another person, if he didn't even notice that the person he had spent his life with was sick? He couldn't. He couldn't trust himself. And he didn't want to move on, so he shut himself off from any advances that he received, because it all reminded him of you, of what he had done to you, and of how things had ended.

If someone had asked him when he was younger what kind of adult he wanted to be, it would not be the person he was now. It would not be the hollow shell of pity, regret, and grief he embodied. It would not have been who he was half way through your marriage; the shameless man who could boldly touch another woman in lust and feigned love, and come home guiltlessly to his wife and child.

He had wanted to be someone's hope, someone's reason to smile and to push through the dark days, someone who loved infinitely, fearlessly, and unconditionally, but he had strayed so far from his childhood ambition.

"Dad."

Hoseok hadn't noticed he was zoning out once again at the dinner table until the sound of his daughter's voice called him back to reality. It happened more often than he'd like, but his psychiatrist told him it was his way to escape, to make his way back to you.

"Hm?" he focused his eyes on his daughter, her eyes full of worry.

"Please eat." She frowned. "You haven't eaten."

He smiled and nodded.

"Do you want me to feed you?" she grinned. "Just like mom--"

His daughter sharply paused, knowing well enough that this topic was off limits. She had always been intuitively smart, just like you had been.

"Here." she scooped up some food into her spoon and inserted it into Hoseok's mouth. "One bite for you, then--" she fed herself. "one bite for me!!"

She giggled, and Hoseok couldn't help but smile at her innocence. Even though he was sure his daughter had an inkling about what happened to her mother, she never showed her confusion or her hidden sadness. When he thought about it, it made him all the more disappointed in himself. Even his daughter now was hiding things to protect him, to cater to him. How pathetic could he be? How long would he be like this?

What really pulled him out of his self pity though was the one day he received a phone call from school stating that his daughter had been rushed to the hospital. His whole body turned to ice at the word "hospital", and before he could hear the entire story, he had rushed out of his office like a madman.

"Hope! Hope!" he frantically yelled, in blind search for his daughter.

Returning to the hospital where you had died had been something he avoided at all cost. It had plagued him in his nightmares and every time he passed by it on a car ride, he could feel his chest tighten and his breath shortening.

It was no exception now.

He felt light headed and overwhelmed. Flashes of your limp body being pushed away on a covered stretcher replayed and soon, the images of his daughter's flitted across his mind too. He fell to his knees in the middle of the lobby, absolutely terrified of the worst case scenario, but trying to keep the strings of his sanity together.

"Uncle Hobi!"

His head shot up at the sound of Yoongi's daughter, who coincidentally was the same age, and best friends with Hope.

"Come." her little hands grabbed his. "Hope told me to make sure you got to her because you didn't like the hospital and she was worried."

Hoseok's heart panged at the comment. How had his daughter known that? And the fact that she worried for him despite being the one being admitted into the hospital was so much like his wife that his heart continued to be pained. The constant resemblance brought him both happiness and sadness.

"I-is she okay?"

"Yes." Yoongi's daughter smiled. "I called dad too, since his office was closer than yours, so he's with her now."

"What happened?"

"She told me not to tell because you'd get mad..." the young girl bit her lip worriedly. "Please don't get mad at her though. She only wanted to make you happy."

"Me? Why?"

Yoongi's daughter glanced around to make sure the coast was clear. "She's been taking care of an injured bird for a few weeks, and once it got better, she wanted to show you. I saw it once. It was colorful and beautiful. I think it must be a rare kind of bird, but she said you and aunty used to talk about birds, wings, and flying all the time. She wanted to take it home so you wouldn't feel as lonely with just the two of you."

Hoseok felt a sob surface in his throat.

"But she lost her footing while climbing the tree, and she fell and fractured one of her legs. She didn't want the school to call you because she didn't want to make you more sad, but I told her she couldn't exactly hide that." Yoongi's daughter stopped at the door and gestured to Hoseok. "This is her room. You can go ahead in."

Hoseok chuckled and ruffled the young girl's hair, every bit as blunt and nonchalant as her father. Then with a deep breath, he entered the room to find Hope in bed with her leg already in a cast, smiling sheepishly.

"Umm..." she glanced down guiltily. "Hi Dad."

Yoongi smiled and rested a hand on Hoseok's shoulder before leaving the two to talk.

"Sweetheart." Hoseok cupped her cheek lovingly. "Does it hurt?"

She was clearly confused about his response, having expected him to be angry. But he was more relieved that it wasn't a serious injury...or life threatening.

"You're not mad?"

Hoseok chuckled and shook his head. "No. I'm not. I'm glad you're safe."

She smiled. "I'm okay. I'm strong."

"I know you are, Angel."

The nickname rolled off his tongue and he felt himself tense up. It had been a name reserved just for you once upon a time, and he could feel the winds billowing against the cobwebs of his mind. The sense of longing jabbed into his heart and caused a wave of despair to crash over him.

Knowingly, his daughter reached over and grabbed his hand.

"Dad. You're strong too."

He shook his head, feeling tears well up in his eyes. "I'm not. I'm really not at all, sweetie."

"Dad, I want you to stop being sad." she frowned and squeezed his hand. "Please. You're the only person I have left, and I want you to be happy. What can I do to make you happy again?"

Hoseok sobbed into his young daughter's chest. "I don't deserve you. I don't deserve either of you."

Maturely, Hope patted his back quietly, letting her father cry. But her words had opened up a dam inside his being.

You're the only person I have left.

He couldn't wither away and drown himself in the past anymore. He couldn't keep having his daughter worry for him. He was supposed to be the one comforting her, protecting her, guiding her, and making her happy. But it had become reversed because once again; he was too busy being selfish, as he had been with you during your marriage. However, his daughter's words had brought him to the realization that just as much as he pined for his wife to return, his daughter too longed for her mother, but she had never let it show for these past few years.

She, a young child thrown into the burden of maintaining a strong facade without knowing the real reason, had constantly been worried that she would lose her father too. And so, she spent every day trying to do little things to make him happy; dealing with the present rather than living in the past like he should have been.

He was so frustrated with himself. Had he always been this weak and helpless?

"Live, Papa. Be happy." His daughter whispered into his hair. "I love you."

Her affection only caused Hoseok to cry harder. How could anyone love him, as much as you two loved him? Why had he been blessed with two angels he never deserved?

After he finally cried everything out, he blushed, embarrassed for having shown his daughter that side of him, but she greeted him a heart-warming smile, like she was satisfied that she had finally helped him somehow.

"Will you help me, my angel?" he smiled in return.

"Help you?" she blinked. "With what?"

"To be happy again."

She giggled. "Papa, that's silly. You don't need help with that."

"I don't?"

"No." she grinned and pulled at his cheeks. "Mom always said loving someone will automatically make you happy. That's why I'm always happy, because I love you!"

Hoseok felt tears well up in his eyes again. He had always been a crybaby, but this was a whole new level. He nodded fervently and peppered his daughter with kisses. If that was his wife's advice, then he had to surely take it to heart.

The love he couldn't give you, he would surely give your daughter. The future he had planned for all three of you, he would share with her. And he knew deep down that wherever the two of them were, you would be.

He had to move forward, for his sake, and for his daughter's. He couldn't live with more regrets, broken promises, and dreams that never came to fruition because he had been dwelling on the past for far too long. His life needed to start again, and it was ironic that out of all the specialists, family, and friends that he had gone to, it was his daughter that had successfully pulled him out of his clouded mind.

And little by little, he slowly began to feel more like himself again.

"Dad, dad! Carry me like a princess!" Hope had requested once she was discharged back home in a cast.

Hoseok obliged, although the traces of your frail body still lingered on his arms when he assumed the position. It wasn't fair either that Hope had inherited your eyes and smile. But on the other hand, she did inherit his playfulness, sense of humor, nose, and obnoxiously loud voice; so needless to say, the house became much livelier from then on.

Yoongi and his daughter were invited over often too. The two widows had always found comfort and understanding with each other, while the children also seemed to attach themselves to each other after discovering a significant, mutual bond. Hoseok willed himself to open up gradually. First, he opened up to Yoongi about his new sense of purpose, and much to his surprise, Yoongi had adopted a similar mindset to deal with his grief.

"I still find her in different things in my life." The usually stoic faced man smiled happily as he spoke about his deceased wife. "In my music, in the dishes that she used to make, the places she used to love, but she's especially prominent in my daughter."

The two glanced over at their daughters.

"When missing her becomes too unbearable, I talk about it with my daughter. Kids are much smarter than we give them credit for, you know." Yoongi hummed.

"Oh I know." Hoseok laughed.

"I'm sure Hope misses her mother just as much as you miss her. I think it'll be good to slowly talk about her to each other. Don't ever miss her alone, because you're not alone in missing her." Yoongi patted Hoseok's hand warmly. "And what keeps me going is the thought that she's up there judging me right now for the amount of fumbling I'm doing."

Hoseok chuckled.

"But I want to make her proud nonetheless." Yoongi straightened up and grinned. "So when we meet again, she has nothing to tease me about."

The two men giggled.

"Knowing her, she's already compiling a list of things to tease you about." Hoseok bantered.

"Let's hope there'll be too many that she'll give up keeping track." Yoongi winked.

And Hoseok smiled. Seeing Yoongi being able to open up about his wife, living so positively with a strong mindset, only encouraged him further to look ahead. It was possible. It was possible to be happy again.

But there was one significant difference between their two tragic stories.

Yoongi had remained faithful to his wife until the end, while Hoseok had not.

Hoseok buried the gnawing guilt deep inside for the time being. If he could, he wanted to take that secret with him to his grave. He never wanted his daughter to find out what kind of man her father was. The disappointment, the hurt, the judgment that would pass through her face would send him into an utter state of despair. Would she abandon him? Would she hate him? Would she want to be associated with such a disgusting excuse of a husband and father? These thoughts often kept him awake at night as his daughter grew up.

Bit by bit though, he opened up and mentioned a story or two about her mother. And Hope's favorite bed time story became her parent's love story. Initially, it hurt to remember, but as the days passed, Hoseok looked forward to being whisked back to the time where you two had loved each other so passionately.

He knew that his daughter was still ever so curious about what truly happened to her mother, but he still couldn't bring himself to say. He made excuses that she was too young at first then later, he continued to hide behind the fact that "she wasn't ready" or "she was focusing on other things like school and he didn't want to distract her". He couldn't bring himself to even tell her the partial truth, because lying to his daughter would just bring him back to full circle, to the man that hid behind lies to protect himself. He settled that it was either the full truth or continuing avoidance.

And he consistently chose avoidance.

Until the day his daughter wanted to bring her boyfriend home for him to meet.

All through Hope's childhood, he had tried to protect her and deter her from the temptations of young love. As every father felt, he didn't want their precious daughter to be heartbroken by the immaturity of pubescent males. But in Hoseok's case, he also didn't want her to be played, like he had done to you. He didn't want his daughter to live the grief that you felt. His heart would shatter into a billion pieces if he had to ever witness it.

No boy was good enough. No boy was trustworthy enough. Despite their chivalrous and friendly personas, years down the road, they could end up like him, swayed by others and tainted by infidelity.

He didn't want his daughter to end up with someone like himself, and everyone had potential to become someone like him.

So when his daughter announced that she wanted to bring home someone she had been dating for a few months now, his entire world shattered.

"What?!" Hoseok choked on his food. "You're dating someone???"

Hope rolled her eyes. "Yes. Like everyone is nowadays, dad."

"No, I don't approve. No. Dump him. All boys are pigs. You can't trust them." he rambled. "You only need me in your life."

She sighed. "He's just coming over for dinner. He wants to meet you because I talk about you so much. It's not a marriage proposal. Just give him a chance, Dad."

"I won't see him, and that's final!" Hoseok slammed his hand down on the table and walked away frantically; his heart had been unprepared for this leap.

"WHY NOT? ARE YOU SERIOUS? WHY DO YOU ALWAYS PUSH ME AWAY?" she yelled after him, but he shut the door to signal that the conversation was over.

He really did always avoid and push her away when the topic of romance came up. He was fine telling stories about the past, but when she tried to pry further about his romantic ventures or open up to him about her crushes, he would shut down. He was terrified for her. What if she made the wrong choice like her mother did?

He exhaled as he buried his face in his hands, distraught, and puzzled. What was he to do? Hope was old enough now to be told the entire story. She deserved to know. But it was Hoseok that was never ready for the consequences and repercussions that could happen after the truth was revealed; the dark part of his life that he had kept hidden for years. The burden he had chosen to bear, the mark of his sins that he wanted to weigh on him as a punishment. It would never suffice; never would be enough to face you in the afterlife, but still, it made him feel better, suffering in silence, as you had.

There was a light knock on his door minutes later.

"Dad, I'm sorry I yelled at you." His daughter's voice was heard behind the door. "I know this time of the year is hard for you, but please don't block me out again, okay? I don't want to disobey you, but I at least want you to give this guy a chance. If he really isn't good for you, then I promise I'll stop seeing him. But I want you to meet each other, because you both make me so happy."

Hoseok sighed again. By "this time of the year", he knew she meant it was nearing your death anniversary. It was the anniversary of your last month, the month where he constantly carried you around the house, the anniversary of when he fell back in love with you. He didn't deserve this kind of daughter. She was too good.

At a young age, she had learned to be self-sufficient and had grown up too fast. Although he took them on trips frequently, he never felt enough for her. He wanted to give her more, but he couldn't. Every time he fell to his grief, she was there with a steady hand to bring him back. Every time he walked away, she would be right there waiting for him to return with open arms. And even now, when he was being completely irrational, she would sacrifice her happiness for his peace of mind. Would you be happy with the kind of father he had become? He was definitely far from perfect, but he was trying to be. Or was he really trying?

"Hope." he called.

"Yes?" she spoke, still not entering his room.

"Wanna bake something with your old man?" he smiled.

He heard that infectious giggle he loved.

"Sure. I'll set up the stuff."

After he heard your footsteps fade away, Hoseok knelt down and pulled out a box from underneath his bed. In it, lay pieces of your last moments that he had held onto: your letter, your hospital band, and even the ripped divorce papers with your signature. He never could bring himself to throw any of it away, because they were you to him.

It was time that he told his daughter the entire, unfiltered story of her parents. Only when he spoke the truth could he truly ask for forgiveness, and maybe, just maybe, he would be able to truly live as fully as you had wished him to.

Hoseok padded into the kitchen with the box, observing the way his daughter hummed as she bustled in the kitchen. She had grown up before his eyes, and he smiled at the memory of her trailing after you in the kitchen, clapping and singing along with you two on those precious family weekends he hadn't cherished enough. He lightly placed the box on the table and embraced his daughter warmly from behind, surprising her.

"Dad, I'm trying to get the brownie batter mixed well." she complained lightly, but Hoseok only squeezed her tighter. She seemed to sense his sadness because she relaxed and let go of the spatula covered in brownie batter. "You okay?"

Hoseok shook his head. He wasn't going to lie anymore.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she hummed.

Normally when she did, Hoseok had always refused, but it never stopped her from asking again and again. But finally, he nodded and whispered. "Can I?"

She turned and smiled sadly, cupping his face. "I've been waiting."

"Dad!" Hope giggled as Hoseok tried to fix up his little bow tie in front of the mirror. The day had finally come for him to meet his daughter's boyfriend. "You're being too formal."

Hoseok smiled sheepishly. "I've never done this before..."

Hope laughed and shook her head. "Well me neither, but I can say that a bow tie is too formal for this occasion. You're just meeting him, not sending me off for marriage."

Hoseok sighed and pulled off his bow tie and blazer. "I know. I'm just nervous."

"Why would you be nervous? He should be the one that's nervous." Hope kissed his cheek. "And right now, I love you more so he has to impress the both of us."

Hoseok smiled and squeezed his daughter's hand reassuringly.

"But I do want to be with him for a long time." she added. "That's why I want to see what you think of him, and how well you two get along. It's important to me."

Hoseok nodded understandably. "I know."

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and his daughter's grin widened brightly. Hoseok's heart panged at the thought that now some other person was making his little girl beam like that. Long gone were the moments where he used to tickle her or make farting noises just to hear her laughter.

"He's here!" she hurried down the stairs.

Hoseok inhaled deeply to compose himself. Ever since he agreed to meeting with Hope's boyfriend, he had never heard the end of the stories. In some ways it was nice to see her glowing, but in other ways, it made him irritated and bitter. He guessed that that was what every father went through with their daughters.

He made his way down the steps hesitantly, already hearing the giggles and chatter of the two in the living room. Peeking in, his nerves dissipated with just one look. The boy had an infectious grin and bright eyes. Just based on appearance, he had a warm, yet bright aura.

"Dad!" Hope noticed his presence immediately, and the boy beside her stood up hurriedly.

"Hello, Mr. Jung." he outstretched his hand nervously. "I'm Kim Taehyung, sir."

Hoseok smiled, remembering when you had introduced him to your parents for the very first time. Hoseok had been a nervous wreck and messed up his introductions. Luckily, your parents found it endearing and genuine, taking his fumbling as a positive.

"Just call me Hoseok." he firmly shook the boy's hand. "Have a seat and get comfortable. I'm not too sure how these things really go down."

"It's my first time too." Taehyung blushed.

"Oh, I'm glad." Hoseok grinned. "So tell me about yourself, Taehyung."

And from there, the conversation flowed between all three of you. Soon, your living room was filled with laughter then you all transferred to the kitchen for Hope's homemade dinner.

Taehyung was very amiable and gentle, openly candid and optimistic. He was a little odd, but it was adorable and endearing, so much so that Hoseok found himself falling a little for the kid. In his mind, he could see the suggestive look you would give him if you had still been around to witness this, and he could feel the constant nudging you would be doing, urging him to accept Taehyung already.

"Is...this...is this your mother?"

The warm atmosphere soon turned awkward and icy as Taehyung pointed at a family picture standing over your fireplace. Hoseok felt his stomach drop at the mention, but luckily, Hope was more composed than he was.

"Yeah. Pretty, right?"

Taehyung stared at the picture in disbelief. "No way..."

"What?" Hoseok and Hope questioned, a tad offended.

"No!" Taehyung flustered. "I meant that in an 'Oh my gosh. No way. This is unbelievable' type of way...because...because I've met her before..."

"What?" Hoseok felt the color leave his face.

"Y/N... right?" Taehyung smiled sadly as he stared at the picture.

"Yeah..." Hope answered softly. "Yeah, that's her name."

Taehyung stared at them, trying to register this miraculous coincidence, and then in one fell swoop, he fell to his knees and bowed.

"Thank you." he stated, surprising Hoseok and Hope.

"T-Tae?" She blinked.

Tae lifted his head up, his eyes slightly watering. "Your mother, your wife...she saved me."

Hope's and Hoseok's eyes widened in shock at the news.

"When I was a kid...I practically lived in the hospital because I was sick. But the persisting issue was that I was losing my eyesight rapidly. I was terrified and I used to cry all the time. I didn't want to go blind. I didn't want to stop seeing my family and live in a world of darkness. It was in one of those crying fits that she came and sat next to me."

Tae smiled sadly as he recounted the fateful encounter with you.

"Hey kid, why're you crying?" You frowned as you sat beside him. Your body was weary from the chemotherapy, so you needed to rest a bit before heading back home. And seeing such a young child around Hope's age in a hospital gown, bawling his eyes out by his lonesome, tugged at your heartstrings.

"I don't want to go blind." Tae wept. "I want to see my family. I want to see my toys."

You patted his head gently.

"And I want to play outside with the other kids. I don't want to stay in my room all day with all those beeps and older people." Tae sniffled.

You hummed. "Want to run away with me?"

Tae's eyes brightened at the thought. "Can I?"

"Mhm." You nodded. "I'll take you to a beautiful park. There are a lot of pretty flowers there! Would you like to see?"

"Yes!" Tae beamed.

"It's still in the hospital, but it's a secret place that I like to come to when I want to be alone. It always makes me feel better." You outstretched your hand and he took it. "Maybe we should ask your parents first..."

"They had to go to work...so I'm by myself." Tae stated nonchalantly, making your heart hurt.

"Then let's tell the nurses so they know where we are."

"Okay." Tae hummed as you led him around.

When you two came upon the vacant hospital park, he gasped and began running around hurriedly.

"A slide! A slide!" he giggled as he struggled to climb up the stairs.

"Be careful now." You adopted your motherly tone.

Tae smiled and nodded, successfully making it the top of the slide. "Stand at the end please."

You obeyed and waited for him at the end of the slide with open arms. He slid down and flew into them, embracing you with resounding laughter. It immediately filled you with happiness and hope; it reminded you of how Hoseok used to laugh.

"What's wrong?"

You smiled sadly and shook your head. "I'm scared too, kid."

"Taehyung."

"Hm?"

"That's my name." he tilted his head cutely. "What's yours, Miss?"

You chuckled. "Y/N."

"I like you, Y/N." he hugged you again. "You're warm."

You felt tears prickling the corner of your eyes. You were sure that your sickness left your skin cold and dry, but nonetheless his words had struck you.

"I like you too, Tae. You're warm." You whispered.

And after that day, without fail, you visited him every time you went to the hospital. As the months progressed and your condition worsened, you were there more and more frequently. And as the days flew by, you didn't have the energy to lift him up or run around with him like before.

Taehyung seemed to notice and was content with settling for drawing and coloring beside you, or having you read to him. You both were deteriorating; his eyesight and your body. But you found comfort and solace in each other.

"Y/N." he cried one time. "The world's getting darker."

And so, the next day you brought a bunch of different colored flowers and you two spent hours going through all the colors and having him memorize it in his mind.

"There's hope, Tae." You smiled. "As long as you're alive, you can do anything."

He grinned back at you, inspired. "I can do anything?"

"Yes! Anything." you giggled.

Just in case, you walked around with Tae and had him memorize the signs in Braille so he would know how to get around. You made a guessing game of him feeling out objects and trying to figure out what they were. You wanted to give this child a fighting chance, because deep down, you hoped that someone would give you one too.

But it never came. And your doctors soon gave you a projected time to tie up the loose ends of your life.

Sometimes to get your mind off of the negative, you told Tae about your family and he would tell you about his.

"One day, I hope you can meet my daughter." you grinned. "You're the same age!"

Tae giggled. "Me too. I haven't played with kids my age in so long."

"You will, Tae. Just keep working hard to get better."

He grinned proudly. "I memorized more of my Braille!"

"Tae." You held his hand. "In a few weeks, I'm going to go far away."

Tae frowned. "Why?"

"I need it to heal my body."

"You can't do it here?"

You shook your head. "But we'll play until I have to leave."

Tae remained silent, then with a soft, disheartened voice replied with "Okay...".

A few days before you admitted yourself for the last time, you rushed into Taehyung's hospital room after hearing the commotion. Taehyung was shrieking and crying while the doctors and nurses were trying to restrain him.

"What're you guys doing to him??" You bellowed angrily.

"He's out of control! His eyesight is leaving him and he's going into hysterics! He's going to hurt himself!"

You began crying. This child didn't deserve this fate. "Tae. Tae. I'm here."

The boy continued weeping, but halted his flailing at the familiar sound of your voice. "Y/N?"

"Yes. Tae, I'm here."

The boy sniffled. "I'm scared."

"We played a game like this remember?" You smiled, holding his hand to comfort him. He fiddled with your engagement and wedding rings as he did often. He liked feeling the inscription on your wedding band and the cut of the stone on your engagement ring. You held him tightly, praying to the heavens for them to save this precious child.

And it was that same day that the doctors approached you to talk about your plans post-death. And it was that same day that showed you that everything truly happened for a reason, for reasons that you may not see until much, much later. You still had a purpose; still had light to give in the darkness of your fading life.

Tae felt a tear stream down his cheek. Hope and Hoseok were bawling uncontrollably, hearing about your life in the hospital was painful and eye-opening, because it was the part of your life you had hidden from them. One that they had never known about until it was too late.

"I saw her the day she died. And I guess you were there too later." he glanced at Hoseok. "Of course, I couldn't see very well. All I saw were figures from afar. I heard people's voices, crying, and yelling."

Hoseok wept into his hands at the memory.

"I saw her before you came, and she told me to stay strong." Tae continued. "That she would watch me and make sure I always smiled like we did together. And...and..."

"Tae." You whispered as you held his hand tightly to your face.

Tae was feeling your face, trying to hold onto anything he remembered of you, trying to see you for the last time. He was absolutely frustrated, and he was puzzled. Why were you on the hospital bed? Why did the atmosphere feel sad? Why was your voice so soft?

"Yes?"

"I hope one day you can find and meet my family." You smiled. "And make sure they're happy."

Tae nodded fervently. He had been given a mission from you, you who had done everything and anything for him. You were more a mother than his own in his time of need, and he was more than grateful for you.

"And Tae." You placed his hand on your mouth so he could feel you smiling. "I want you to never take life for granted, okay? And know that you're never alone even if you feel lonely...because I love you so much and wherever I am, I will be watching over you. Remember that."

"I love you too, Y/N. Thank you. Please don't go." Tae hugged you warmly. "Stay with me."

"I'll always be with you Tae." You kissed his temple. "But there's somewhere I need to go, and something I need to do after I leave."

"What's that?" Tae blinked.

"It's a secret." You grinned.

Tae bawled, unable to continue his story for a few minutes. His body was shaking and he gasped for air, trying to reach for the words he hadn't told anyone for a very long time.

"She told the doctors she wanted to donate her healthy corneas to me after she died." he choked out. "She...she gave me my sight back."

Hope covered her mouth as she sobbed, while Hoseok wailed further into his own hands at the revelation. You were not only his angel, you were someone else's too.

"She loved you both so very much." Tae whispered. "Her face was always so happy when she talked about you two. And it gave me hope of a future where I would love and be loved like she did to you guys."

Hoseok knelt down and embraced Taehyung.

"Thank you for keeping her company and making her happy when we couldn't." he whispered.

"Mom." Hope cried, feeling a sense of gratefulness welling up in her chest. To hear what her mother did for someone else, despite how angry and terrified she must've been, it made her want to become an even better person. And in a way, she felt that her mother had brought Taehyung to her in the first place. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Needless to say, Hope and Hoseok were emotionally drained for the next few days after Taehyung's revelation. It was overwhelming, but astounding. To think that the first boy his daughter had brought home had been the very boy you had saved with your last breath. It made him feel like you were still around, meddling in people's lives because you knew exactly what was best for them. You always had a knack for knowing things he needed before he even realized he needed them.

He lay in his bed, exhausted. It was an emotional rollercoaster of a week. Glancing at his calendar, ironically, it was the week of your death anniversary. He covered his eyes with his arms. The tears wouldn't stop falling. Now more than ever, he wished he could see you. He wanted to hold you, cry with you, share stories with you. He wanted to grow old together, wanted to weep together when you married Hope off.

There was a light knock on his door.

"Yes?"

Hope entered the room, cheeks also tear-stained.

"I finally found this."

She handed him an old letter, similar to the one Hoseok knew too well as your farewell.

"What's this?"

"Mom had left a letter for me too. But she made me promise not to read it until I was 10." she smiled sadly. "She told me that she was going far away and to take care of you. I remember being so confused at the time. When I read the letter, you were in a really bad place, but I finally understood why."

She placed the letter in his hands. "I don't hate you. I never have and never will. And Mom never did either. After you told me your side of the story, I knew I had to give this to you."

Hoseok glanced up at his daughter. She urged him to read and stepped out of the room.

With shaky hands, he fumbled to get the note out of the envelope. The unfamiliar words with the familiar writing hit him with a wave of nostalgia and longing that felt so incredibly unbearable. He wanted you so bad it hurt, but he was also curious as to what you had written as an explanation to Hope.

"My dearest daughter,

If you had kept your promise, I would be long gone by now. And if I know your father, he hasn't opened up to you about what happened to me. My Hope, I was very sick when you were little. I did all I could to get myself better without making it noticeable, but it wasn't enough. So I made a choice to remain myself for the last few months. At least you and your father would remember me looking somewhat healthy, and I would at least have some energy to continue the normalcy of our lives. I wanted nothing more than to spend my last days with you two, as a family, and I'm so happy that I was able to experience that with you.

I'm sorry I wasn't able to play with you for too long towards the end of my life, and I always will regret not having enough strength to hold you up for the last time. I love you so much. You know that right? If I had a choice, I would've given anything to stay with you and Papa forever. But Mama's sick, sweetheart, and I think I hurt Papa by not giving him the love he deserved. But Mama doesn't think it's fair to love Papa and keep him all to herself, because Mama can't stay in this world anymore.

I have never once regretted choosing your father. If I am to be reborn, I know I will choose him again and again, should I be so lucky as to be placed in the same place and time as him once more.

My love, when the body dies, the soul lives on but more tangibly, the love we shared will be carried forward. For every person we touch will be inspired to touch another, until we are all connected in good faith. I want you to live like that. Always be good to others, and they will be good to you in return. I can't imagine now how many of my friends and family have reached out and helped you both in my absence. I will always be grateful to have been blessed with kind people in my life.

My dearest Hope, please take care of your father. He will be going through many things that you may not yet understand, but please watch him closely. Make sure he smiles at least three times a day, laughing until his stomach hurts at least twice a week, and make sure he is eating and sleeping. He loves you very much, but he often thinks being silent is strong. Don't let it fool you. When you look close enough and when you care about someone enough, you'll notice the little things that give away what they feel inside. He will be hurting terribly, so please help him even when he doesn't ask, because that is what it means to love someone.

Ever since I found out that I was sick, each day was filled with silent hatred, bitter regret, and unfailing depression. I hated myself. I cursed the life I was given. I was angry with the world. Why? Why me? Why when I had a beautiful daughter and was married to the love of my life? Why did I get called away too soon?

I wondered if I had done something terribly wrong in the past that I deserved this kind of end, this shortened life. I worried about you two. Your father works long hours, and you, you're still so young. I was angry that I had to leave you two in such a state. Yet, I was selfish for the last month because I didn't want these negative feelings to be last thing I felt in this world. I wanted to be surrounded by your love, laughter, and smiles so that I could depart with those wonderful memories.

When the time comes, your father will tell you his truth. But my truth is that I have always and will always love you and your father. No matter what wrongs you two have done and will do, I will continue to love you because you are both more precious to me than anything. I want you to find such a love and be loved as such in return. People will make mistakes, Hope, but it is what they do afterwards that determine what kind of person they are. Remember that when your father opens up to you. But I ask of you, do not abandon him as I have done to you two. Do not hate him. Do not be angry with him. For you two only have each other in the world to hold and confide in. Please do for him what I could not, my Hope. You'll know what to say when the time comes.

I love you forever and always."

Hoseok's tears tainted the letter as he read the freshly added addendum to it.

Scribbled in his daughter's handwriting at the very bottom of the parchment, underneath your signature and lipstick printed kiss mark, read:

"I forgive you, so forgive yourself, and live happily until you can share your adventures and stories with Mom once again."

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thelastspeecher · 8 years ago

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Stan Pines, Farmhand - Chapter 11: Best Laid Plans

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 AO3

I definitely did not plan on posting this today, but like what happens in this chapter, plans don’t always work out the way you want. I’m pretty excited. This chapter is really cheesy and fluffy, and so is the next one. But the one after that? ...Not quite. Also, the de-aging thing from the previous chapter was resolved “off-screen”. Anyways, enjoy!

April 1, 1977 – Gravity Falls

Stan followed his girlfriend and his twin brother deeper into the abandoned mines.

“Ya really wanna spend yer birthday chasin’ down dinosaurs?” he asked, his voice echoing. “Ya wouldn’t prefer to go to that restaurant with the ocean view?” Angie shook her head.

“That place is expensive. Trackin’ dinosaurs is free.” She looked back at him. “Ya didn’t have to come with.”

“You’re my girlfriend. It’s your birthday. If I abandoned ya, Lute’d have my head.”

“I know ya didn’t really like Gravity Falls the last time we visited.”

“Gnomes chewed through the brake wires of the car I’ve had since I was sixteen,” Stan said flatly.

“Yeah.” Angie fell back a few steps. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank ya fer workin’ past yer hatred fer this town to spend time with me.”

“Heh. It ain’t a big deal. Especially since this is way better than hearin’ Lute rant about how ‘that ain’t what southern men do’. Your brother’s got some interesting thoughts ‘bout what bein’ a southern gentleman means. And for some reason, he seems to be under the impression that I’m one.” Angie chuckled. She froze.

“Did ya hear that?”

“Hear what?” A roar echoed.

“That.”

“Yep. Definitely heard that.”

“I’ve found the nest!” Ford called. He ran back to them. “But there’s a slight problem. I disturbed the mother.”

“That’s more than a slight problem, Sixer,” Stan said. “I think it’s time to go.”

“What? But we didn’t get any pictures!” Angie protested. Stan grabbed her hand.

“If ya get killed on my watch, yer folks’ll kill me. C’mon.” She pulled her hand out of his grip.

“No, I need at least one picture.” Angie strode away determinedly. “If’n yer so concerned ‘bout my safety, ya can follow me.” A shadow fell over her.

“Angie!” Stan tackled her to the ground, narrowly avoiding the dinosaur’s claws. They tumbled down a nearby slope, coming to a stop at its base. He looked at Angie, whom he was effectively pinning to the ground. She was so close that he could count every freckle on her face and see a thin silver ring around her pupils, contrasting the bright blue of the rest of her iris. It reminded him of something. He thought back to the small box he had left back with Fiddleford, at Ford’s house.

Now’s as good a time as any. She stared at him, a pink flush beginning to spread across her cheeks.

“Will ya marry me?” he blurted out. Angie’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“Banjolina Quinn McGucket, will ya marry me?” he said, more firmly this time. “I know I’m not on one knee, and the ring’s back at Ford’s house, but-”

“Yes,” she interrupted.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really,” she said. “Ya goober.” Stan grinned at her.

“I’m yer goober, now,” Stan said. Angie smiled.

“Ya most definitely are.”

-----

May 1978 – Gumption

“So, the wedding’s in a month, right?” Lute asked Angie. Angie rolled her eyes.

“Ya got the invitation ages ago! An’ all the information is in that there binder in front of ya.”

“Oh.” Lute opened the binder. “Yep. June 18. Good choice. I’ve heard good things about June weddings.” After her graduation with her master’s degree, Angie had come back to Gumption with Stan, and they were currently finishing up the wedding plans.

“An’ it’s here in Gumption,” Angie continued. “In the barn. So we’ll have to clean it up a bit.”

“Why not the church?” Fiddleford asked. He and Ford were taking a break from their research in Gravity Falls to visit Gumption quickly before the wedding.

“Stan’s Jewish,” Angie said shortly.

“Right.”

“Angie, does this mean ya get to do the thing where ya step on the glass an’ break it?” Lute asked eagerly. Angie looked at Stan. Stan nodded. “Dang. That’s excitin’.”

“Y’all are weird,” Stan said, shaking his head. Angie kissed him on the cheek.

“Yer marryin’ into my weird fam’ly, though.”

“Fiddleford, Tate’s up,” Ford said, walking into the living room, holding his son.

“Did ya change him?” Fiddleford asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll hold him, then. He likes gettin’ attention.”

“No, I’ll hold him!” Angie said immediately.

“Are you sure?” Ford asked. Angie nodded.

“I don’t get to spend enough time with the lil polydactyl.” Ford handed Tate to her. “My lord, Tate, yer gettin’ so big already!” Angie cooed at her nephew. She looked at Fiddleford. “How old is he, again?”

“He was born November 17, so almost exactly six months,” Fiddleford replied. Angie looked back at Tate.

“Yer already halfway to bein’ a year old, Tater Tot! Such a big boy!” She blew a raspberry on Tate’s stomach. He giggled. “Such a happy boy, too! What an absolute cutie-pie.”

“Since he started sleeping through the night, he’s definitely started to seem cuter,” Ford said. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been on Mom to take care of two infants at the same time.”

“It’s a good thing twins don’t run in the McGucket fam’ly, then,” Lute said, turning another page in the wedding plan binder. “Otherwise ya might have had to deal with that.”

“Are ya goin’ to have more kidlets?” Angie asked her older brother. Fiddleford shook his head.

“I think just the one child is enough,” Fiddleford said, taking his son from Angie. “I don’t plan on goin’ through that whole experience again. It weren’t pleasant.”

“Adoption is-”

“Just the one munchkin is enough fer us,” Fiddleford said firmly. “Raisin’ kids is hard work, an’ we’re already busy, what with Tate and our research.” He smiled at Angie. “I understand where yer comin’ from. I know ya enjoy bein’ an auntie, and ya like spoilin’ yer nieces and nephews. But ya won’t be gettin’ any more from Ford and myself.”

“Fair enough,” Angie conceded. She cocked her head. “So, ya had to give up doin’ research fer a while. How’d that go? Just so’s I know.” Stan looked up from the wedding plans he had been perusing with Lute.

“Uh, what?” Stan asked. Angie looked over at him.

“I ain’t pregnant now, don’t worry.”

“I know you’re not, but the fact that you’re askin’ before we’re even married is makin’ me a bit nervous.”

“It’s just fer future reference,” Angie said with a wave of her hand.

“Ya might go a bit stir-crazy when it’s yer turn,” Fiddleford told her. “I stayed inside a lot an’ didn’t do much, ‘specially near the end.” Angie grimaced.

“Yeesh. But it’d be worth it. Fer one thing, Stan’s cuter than Ford. An’ I know it seems impossible, but that means a kid of ours would be even more adorable than Tate.”

“Damn straight,” Stan said, turning his attention back to the wedding plans. “And our kid would have a better name.”

“Tate is a perfectly fine name,” Ford said defensively. “Fiddleford and I agreed to forego the McGucket naming convention.”

“Ya might have mostly foregone it, but ya did name him after Uncle Tate,” Lute said.

“So?”

“Do ya know what Tate is short for?”

“It’s not short for anything.”

“Not yer Tate. Uncle Tate.”

“Oh, um, no,” Ford confessed. Angie snickered. “What? What is it short for?”

“Isn’t he the one named after food?” Stan asked. Ford looked at Fiddleford.

“Fiddleford. What did we name our son?”

“We named him a proper name,” Fiddleford said reassuringly. “His namesake just don’t have that.”

“What’s Uncle Tate’s real name?” Ford asked. Fiddleford sighed.

“His full name is Potato.”

-----

September, 1978 – Gravity Falls

Summer was beginning to fade, and the town of Gravity Falls was bustling with citizens making the most of the last warm days. On the drive up, Angie had been bubbling with excitement over getting permission to finish her doctorate by studying some of the amphibians in Gravity Falls. Her happiness almost masked the dread Stan was feeling. Something about the lumber town felt odd to him, like bad things would happen there. But now that he was officially moving boxes into the house they had just rented, the initial unease had gone to the back of Stan’s mind.

“Thanks fer helpin’ us move in,” Angie said, handing a box to Lute.

“It’s no problem. I’m always ‘round to help my baby sister,” he replied. He tucked the box under one arm.

“It’s not like you have anythin’ better to do, anyways,” Stan said, taking another box out of the trailer. “What exactly do ya do, again?”

“Mostly just bother my siblin’s,” Lute replied. Angie opened the passenger door of the truck and took out the terrarium holding Tubbs. She went inside the house. Once she was gone, Lute turned to Stan. “So, when are the two of ya goin’ to pop out a kid?”

“Lute, what the fuck.”

“Hey, it’s a perfectly valid question.”

“We’ve only been married fer three months.”

“So?”

“Isn’t that a bit fast?”

“Not fer a McGucket,” Lute said. “Ma didn’t even finish school ‘fore she had the oldest three.”

“Well, we only just moved here. Angie wouldn’t wanna stop doin’ her research just after startin’ it.” Stan rubbed his neck nervously. “An’ I’m still lookin’ for a job. ‘Arkansas farmhand’ and ‘San Diego car salesman’ don’t make the greatest resume. We haven’t even talked ‘bout kids, beyond mentionin’ that they’ll eventually happen. So, no, Lute, we’re not plannin’ on havin’ kids. Not yet.”

“What’s that thing folks say? ‘God laughs at yer plans’?” Stan eyed Lute suspiciously.

“What are ya gettin’ at, McGucket?” he asked. Lute sighed and set down the box he was holding.

“Ma didn’t plan on havin’ the older three. It’s a well-known fact in the fam’ly that Violynn, Harper, and Basstian were all surprises.”

“I don’t think I’m likin’ what I’m hearin’.”

“Pa has seven siblin’s.”

“Damn.”

“The McGuckets are a very fertile fam’ly. An’ unless you ‘n Angie are abstainin’…” Lute eyed Stan curiously.

“Lute. I’m not gonna talk ‘bout my sex life. Do ya really want to know if your baby sister’s had-”

“Fair enough,” Lute said quickly. He shrugged. “Just somethin’ to keep in mind. Tate weren’t planned, either.”

“Lute, don’t say things like that,” Angie said, joining them again.

“It’s true,” Lute protested. Angie put her hands on her hips.

“It don’t matter if it’s true. It’s rude. But that reminds me.” Angie turned to Stan. “We’re babysittin’ Tate tomorrow.”

“Again?”

“His dads have research to do. I just want to help.”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Stan said. “It doesn’t have anythin’ to do with how much ya like spendin’ time with babies.” Angie rolled her eyes and took the box he was holding.

“They got backed up a bit on their work after he was born,” she called as she walked back inside. “They need to catch up.”

“If ya say so.” Stan looked at Lute. “Do ya really think that-”

“I ain’t a doctor. I can’t tell ya yer chances fer havin’ a surprise kid.”

“You literally just told me you thought that’s what’ll happen.”

“…Point taken.” Lute handed Stan another box from the trailer. “If’n it makes ya feel better, I think you’d be a good dad.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Lord knows the Gucklings think yer the best thing since sliced bread. Yer a natural with kids, even if ya don’t feel like ya are.”

“I’m pretty sure yer just lyin’ to me to try to get another niece or nephew,” Stan said. Lute scoffed.

“I ain’t a liar, no matter how cute I think yer kid would be.” Angie opened the front door and stuck her head out.

“Are you fellers goin’ to bring in any more boxes or keep chit-chattin’ at the truck?”

-----

“Aren’t you the cutest lil feller I ever done see,” Angie cooed at Tate. She and Stan were at Ford and Fiddleford’s house, babysitting Tate. So far, he’d been remarkably well-behaved, something Stan claimed was due to his parents being nerds. Tate giggled and grabbed at Angie’s nose. She laughed. “Yup. That’s the fam’ly nose. And you’ve got it too, Tater Tot.” She sighed.

“What is it?” Stan asked.

“I want one,” Angie said softly. She played with Tate’s hands.

“Well, it’s not like anybody else is here,” Stan began. Angie eyed him.

“What are ya gettin’ at?”

“If ya decide to take him, I won’t tell. Ya can head for the border with Tate and I’ll meet up with ya.”

“Mexico?”

“No. Canada.”

“I did learn French at West Coast Tech,” Angie said. Her eyes gleamed. She stood up.

“Whoa, whoa,” Stan said. “I was kidding.”

“Oh.” Angie sat down again. “Uh, so was I.”

“No ya weren’t!”

“Hey, you don’t know me.”

“Yeah, I do,” Stan said firmly. Angie sighed.

“Yer right.” She kissed Tate on the forehead. “This lil feller’s just so goldarn cute. It ain’t right that Ford got a baby ‘fore I did.”

“…Why?” Stan asked. Angie shrugged.

“‘Cause it’s Ford?”

“Fair enough.” Stan leaned over to look at his nephew. Tate grabbed one of Stan’s fingers and began to chew on it excitedly. Stan softened. “You want a baby, huh?”

“Yeah…” Angie said softly.

“But ya understand now ain’t the best time fer that. We’re still settlin’ here in Gravity Falls, and ya just started your research, so we should probably wait a bit.” Angie cracked a half-smile.

“Does that mean ya want to be a dad?”

“…Maybe.”

“Glad we’re on the same page. I want a lil one, too, but we should prob’ly hold off a bit. How long do ya want to wait?”

“How ‘bout no kids ‘til after our first anniversary? That way we can go as wild as we want next June,” Stan suggested. Angie chuckled. “Think you can wait that long?”

“Yeah.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Look at ya, bein’ responsible.”

“Well, that an’, I dunno, havin’ a kid right away doesn’t seem like a good idea. I’m pretty sure it’s ruined marriages.” Angie’s eyes softened.

“Stanley, it’d take more than a baby to make me leave ya.”

“What would it take?” Stan asked.

“Why do ya want to know?”

“I wanna avoid doin’ it.”

“I can’t think of anythin’,” Angie said, bouncing Tate on one of her knees.

“…Really?”

“Darlin’, I can’t think of a single thing that would make me so angry with ya that I’d leave.”

“Nothin’?”

“Absolutely nothin’.”

-----

December 23, 1978 – Gumption

Normally, at the holidays, the McGucket house was even more warm and welcoming than usual. But Stan couldn’t help the nervousness he was feeling. Sitting next to him at the dining table, Angie grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Darlin’, it’s fine,” she whispered in his ear. “You’ll make it through this.”

“Why do ya want to wait ‘til January, to tell ‘em, again?” he whispered back.

“Ya know why.”

“Are the two lovebirds whisperin’ sweet nothin’s to each other?” Lute asked teasingly.

“What’s it to you?” Stan asked. Lute reached out to take Angie’s glass.

“Ya want some wine, lil sis?” Angie hurriedly grabbed it from him.

“No, Lute. Thanks, though.” Lute frowned at her.

“What happened to the Angie I know an’ love? It ain’t like you’ll get drunk. McGuckets got fortitude.”

“I know how our fam’ly works, ya goon,” Angie said. She shrugged. “I just ain’t in the mood fer alcohol right now.”

“Is that so?” Ma McGucket asked. There was an odd look on her face. “Is there any reason fer that?”

“N-no,” Angie stammered. She swallowed, suddenly turning a slight shade of green. She stood up abruptly. “I’ll be back in a mo’.” She rushed off.

“She’s been usin’ the facilities an awful lot,” Lute said, taking his seat on the other side of Stan. “Is she sick or somethin’?”

“No. At least, if she is, she didn’t tell me,” Stan said. He looked at Ma McGucket again. She smiled knowingly at him.

Stan turned beet red.

#Stanley McGucket AU #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Fiddleford McGucket #Angie McGucket #Lute McGucket #Ma McGucket #Gravity Falls #Stan Pines Farmhand #fanfiction #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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socielengagementactsc-blog · 7 years ago

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Day One, 6th of April

It was a friday afternoon, we started off our program for the first day later in the day, right after the kids at Shelter Home 1 came back from school.

We first gathered at Dataran Sains, Faculty Science. After the muslims have performed their Zohor prayers, we head straight to Shelter Home 1 by Uber, which was roughly 10 minutes away from University Malaya. It was such a hot day but our team was excited and anxious to meet the kids! We arrived there aat 2:15pm where we were greeted by the PIC, Aunty Agnes. The kids came running to us. I remember Christyn and Susan approached me and bombarded me with questions, they were so adorable!

We started off our day with doing some ice breaking, asked for everyone’s ages and names! They were around 16 of them ages between 6 to 12 years old. We proceeded with a few games. The first game was Simon says, then charade! They even taught us a few of their favourite games to play, one of them is my sign and your sign! It was amazing seeing 8 years old teaching 20 years old a game! At 3 o’clock, it was time for their study hours, so we head to the study place, each one of us assigned ourself to a kid, we helped them out with their homework and reading!

After they had their tea time at 5, we continued with games! The kids were very excited to get sweets. So, we played killer and police! Although we cant seem to figure out who is the winner, we had fun!

We took a break from 6-7, the kids have to shower and we had to perform maghrib prayer, so we walked to the nearby masjid which is around 10 minutes walking distance. When we came back at 7, it was their study hour so we helped them with homework and study!

REFLECTION

On 6/4/18, we have our ice breaking session with the children from here we get to know everyone. We have our very first game call Simon say. This game is to test the alert of the children. Some of the children are very focus and alert but some are slow in response. There is a problem we face. There is a few kids that don’t give much interest in the game because they played before this. However, we managed to make this game a success. From this activity, it has remind me about my childhood time, where I use to play in school. I have also learned that we must have leadership when conducting this game in order for them to pay attention to it to avoid kids that don’t listen to us. Next, we even teach them in their homework during their homework time. From here, I learn that we must be patience during teaching and they pretty like the way I taught them. Overall, I feel happy because I managed to deliver something to the kids. I’m looking forward to meet them next time.

- Kelly Ng Zhi Wei, SIQ170008 -

On the first day(6 April), the kids were too hyperactive. Some of the initial tentative also needed to be changed on the day. We all needed to think fast to come out with a new activity for the kids.

- Noraqilah Zainudin, SIQ170022 -

On this day, we went to the shelter home for the first time. It was a lot of fun to me. I was really excited to meet and to get to know each and everyone of the children ranging from 6 to 12 years old during the ice-breaking session.

- Nurhanani binti Abdul Rapa, SIQ170026 -

My first day there, we were having ice breaking to get know the kids. We played childhood games such as ABC and Simon says. For the evening activity, we played game “Guess the drawing”. But we asked the kids to guess the animals instead of drawing. It such a funny session because the facilitator imitate an animals and no one could guess the animal because it such a weird posture! On 7.30p.m, the kids seemed a bit tired and not hyperactive anymore. Same goes to the facilitators. We were out of energy. So, we taught them educational subjects and help them to finish their homework. What I realised about the kids, they are not good in Bahasa Malaysia. We sometimes do quiz ‘peribahasa’ with the kids to improve their knowledge.

- Puteri Saffawani Mohd Yunus, SIQ170028 -

I have never thought doing volunteering work would be so meaningful until I have my very first experience helping out at the Shelter Home 1. When we arrived there on the first day, I was very nervous because all of them are non-Malay and I did not know how to communicate efficiently with them because they use English as their first language. It supposed to be 16 kids there but only around 12 kids came and greeted us, maybe because some of them were shy. Some of the kids were very friendly that they talked to us first. But there were also some kids that are hard to approach, they always sat at the corner and very quiet during the activity. I thought that maybe they are still shy with us because it was the first time we meet each other. For ice breaking, we do introduction and simple games such as ‘Hello and Hi’. We introduced ourselves to the kids and we learnt the kids name. it was very hard for me to remember all the kids’ names because I was bad at memorising names. For the evening and night, we had tutoring activity with them. Through this activity, I learnt about their level of education in certain subject. Most of them are excellent in studies, especially in English. That day, I learnt how to approach and communicate with kids.

- Nurul Syuhada binti Awang Da, SIQ170027 -

On 6th April 2018, the children were hardly listen to our instruction and they were not paying attention. Some were not participated to play games. A boy Nickson started to become closer to me after we study the ‘peribahasa’

- Muhammad Faiz Hilmy Bin Hazam, SIQ170017 -

When I went to the orphanage the very first day on 6 April 2018(Friday), I was quite nervous as I was not really familiar to communicate with the orphans there . I was worried whether I can communicate well with them and make them feel at ease. I was going Shelter Home 1 that day. The person in charge of our project had helped us a lot by giving us the schedule of the children on every Friday and Saturday and of course letting us know the exact location of the orphanage. The manager there are kind and friendly to us and of course to the orphans too. She allowed us to launched our activities such as the ‘ice-breaking session’ and ‘The killer’ without any worries . There are two or three helpers with the manager to control the orphans during the activities as some of them were quite naughty and rebellious . After the game , we guided the orphans to their dinner and bath time and of course the sleep time. The orphans are living comfortably there, which are really glad to see. I got the chances to talk with the orphans, knowing them and show caring to them. They will share their experiences and stories with me, some are sad while some are happy. Hope they are healthy now.

- Lee Zhijie, SIQ170010 -

I went for a total of 5 days out of the given 7. First of all, I go to the 1st ,2nd ,4th,6th and 7th and during the first day, I got a bit overwhelmed by the kids there. Without much experience dealing with children, I find it hard to engage them socially. During that day, the kids are also especially active and that not helping much. Luckily I got to know a boy there especially well and we also played some game where one of it we took turn guessing the meaning of ‘peribahasa’.

- Muhd Nazman bin Nazrun, SIQ170020 -

During this programmed, I learned to recognize the personality of a multiracial person. On the first day 6th April, at Shelter Home, I also learn to think quickly and prepare something in advance. For example, children at Shelter Home are very naughty and most of the activities are difficult to follow by them and this requires us to think the other ideas or activities on that day.

- Mohd Afiq Irfan bin Mohammed, SIQ170016 -

It was my first day here. I never conduct an activities or even engaged with these children. I was really nervous but excited at the same time. When we arrived there, first thing we do is to gather all children and sit in a circle with them. The ice breaking session starts. We introduced ourselves as well as the children. But it was kind of noisy because the children was a bit hyperactive. We didn’t expect them to be so active and we it was tough to control them. After that, we had a tutoring session where we helped them with their homeworks and also answers any subject related questions that they asked. All in all, it was a great and tiring day. It was hard to control them but I believed as time flies, we will get to know each other even more and be more comfortable around each other.

- Nur Adriana binti Che Johari, SIQ170023

I was one of the members that was involved on the first day of our project, I remember significantly how anxious everyone was to meet the kids. When I first entered the house, 2 kids, Susanne and Christyn immediately approached me and asked for my name. I was starstrucked at how adorable and friendly they were. They welcomed us to their house with open arms and I was touched. We started our day with ice breaking, for us to get to know each of them and vice versa. What I learned for that day was that each of them has different personalities and passion. We played a few games and afterwards we helped them with their homework. They were some of them that needed more attention than others and there were also some of them that managed to complete their tasks and homework easily. We also had bonding session in which we just talk to them and listen to their stories. They enjoyed the attention and we were happy to listen.

-Jasmine Faiqah, SIQ170007

Today is the day of our first social engagement session. We arrived Shelter Home at 2.00 pm by taking Uber. To our surprise, we saw a white Bichon barking in the porch. As a Muslim, I was in shocked and reluctant to enter the house because I doubted whether we can enter a house that keep a dog in it or not. One of my group member, phone her Ustaz to clarify things. Fortunately, there is no harm for a Muslim to enter a house that keeps a dog as long as there is no direct contact with it so I guess this is a good start because at least I gain new knowledge from this project..

As I take my first step into the house, I can see that the kids were hyperactive and excited to see us and they welcome us with open arms. We embark our social engagement with ice-breaking session. As day goes by, occupied with various activities in our schedule, I can see that I am slowly getting along with the kids and it is not as bad as I expected. We did a lot of fun activities like Simon Says, and Guess the Animal. Those activities were indeed, a fun and beneficial activities because they test our alertness and how to deliver information in a correct way so that other people will find it is easy to understand. These activites really loosen up as I enjoy them so much.

- Arifah binti Mohd Noordin, SIQ170001

Jasmine Faiqah Kamarul, SIQ170007

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