#The grieving period was a little worse than expected but after like a month it was like

[spoonless-sunflower]

On the bright side, it's been 5 boobless months and I've never felt more confident or more like myself appearance wise🌻

[chaoticbardlady99]

Never Have I Ever… (Astarion x F! Reader) MDNI 18+

Synopsis: You accidentally befriended the Heroes of Baldur’s Gate at Elfsong a little less than a year after the Elderbrain attacked.

Six months later, on your birthday, you are playing a game of “Never Have I Ever” at Elfsong Tavern and a topic of conversation takes a very interesting turn… that leads directly into the bedroom with your roommate, Astarion.

CW: PIV, Oral, Smut, loss of virginity, other sex words I can’t think of, brief mentions of past trauma

Pic does not belong to me

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated 💜 thank you for reading!!!

The warm laughter that fills the air is infectious as you take another welcome sip of the red wine Astarion insisted you try. You are so horribly in love with the man that he could probably convince you to enjoy poison if he really tried.

As a new introduction to the friend group, you didn’t expect to find a roommate a short 3 months after getting your job at Shadowheart’s Clinic. You had just moved to Baldur’s Gate- you apparently have horrible timing- but you were happy to help with healing the injured, checking in on the sick, and even helping people grieve their loved ones appropriately.

You weren’t originally living with anyone. In fact, you had been staying at Elfsong for an extended period of time. Around month 3, you had been playing a late set (Being a cleric and Bard for Oghma is a big job) and you hadn’t noticed the man following you back to your room. Thankfully, Astarion had promised to go see your set and had noticed the intruder after you had said good night.

It was safe to say you were shaken and Astarion immediately told you that you A. Did not have a choice and would be taking his second bedroom and B. Need to be significantly more aware. You agreed to both.

He tries desperately hard to return your rent money to you- insisting that he is more than well off enough. You just stare at him silently until he feels so uncomfortable he takes it. You refuse to live in his very nice townhome for free- especially since you know his backstory.

Astarion has his first place, all to himself, and he has allowed you to intrude upon that space because you very nearly died or worse one night. He swear it isn’t an intrusion, but you always worry- it’s one of the few things you are very good at.

Paying rent also prevents you from becoming unrealistic in your expectations of your relationship with him.

It is just a friendship, roomie situation- nothing more, nothing less. You crave more, obviously, he’s everything you’ve ever wanted out of a partner- even the grumbly, more closed off pieces. You’ve stayed up with him through his nightmares and you’ve fallen asleep in each other’s arms more than a few times, but that was just comfort for him.

Right?

“Never have I ever…,” Wyll trails off, obviously very drunk as he leans on his fiancée, Karlach, for support, “had sex!”

The rest of the group groans about how unfair that is, but you aren’t necessarily sure what to do.

You’re a virgin and it’s something you’ve kept pretty close to the chest up until this point. You might as well keep the party rolling.

You barely drink- just enough to pretend- and no one seems the wiser.

Oh, but you are just a silly little drunk fool because of course Astarion notices. You are practically all he seems to notice anymore- or at least that’s what it feels like.

Everything about you pulls him in and he craves you.

Gods does he crave you.

He has to bite back the possessive growl that threatens to tear through his throat as he watches the alcohol not even touch your lips- the sleight of hand may have tricked their companions, but not him.

He adores you and at first it mortified him- now it just consumes him. Astarion loves spending every second he can with you- whether that be reading, cuddling, talking, etc. Maybe another activity could be added to the addendum…

His fangs nip his bottom lip as he tries to snap himself back into reality and not be stuck in the idea of what you would sound like underneath him. It’s especially hard to ignore the fact that he would be the only one who knows what pleasure looks like on your face and in your voice- how your body responds to being teased and worshipped.

“Star! You’re bleeding!”

Shit. I must have bit my lip too hard.

You take your clean napkin and begin to dab away the blood on his lip. The moment your other hand touches his cheek to keep him steady- he feels like he’s melting.

“All better,” you say with a beaming smile.

“Thank you, Darling. I have no idea what I would do without you.”

“I don’t know what he’d do without you,” Tav drunkenly chimes in, Gale facepalms at his wife’s antics, “gosh darn’t- stop spilling your own blood! Worst vampy ever!”

The collective HUSH around the table makes Astarion laugh and Tav looks at him sheepishly.

“Sorry.”

“Oh it is more than fine, my very drunk friend,” Astarion teases, “if anything, I think you need more wine.”

Gale groans, “please don’t encourage her.”

Astarion’s spirit became more and more restless the longer the night out continued. This wasn’t his ideal plan for the night, but he had chickened out at the last minute.

He had initially wanted to take you out on a date- today is your birthday and you didn’t want the whole group to know since you don’t love the attention, but Astarion has taken advantage of the opportunity.

He had already given you the flowers he had “just happened” to find earlier that day and you had been over the moon.

Astarion had also ‘purchased’ a gold bracelet for you- the delicate metal was simple with a single malachite heart charm on it. He learned very, very quickly that you believe in all that ‘crystal nonsense’ as Lae’zel puts it. Astarion’s heart glows a little bit when he catches it reflecting candle light off your wrist. You loved the bracelet equally as much and kissed him on the cheek.

While he isn’t necessarily sure he believes in that crystal nonsense, Astarion does believe in you so the Rhodochrosite bracelet you had bought him shortly after you moved in is almost always on his wrist. You explained that it was meant to heal trauma- he later learned that it more specifically helped with sexual trauma. You never elaborated on it or pestered, but the gesture in itself made him feel accepted and safe.

The first night he opened up to you had also been the first time it hit him that he genuinely has feelings for you. Those feelings have grown naturally and Astarion rarely feels the need to put a mask up when he’s around you anymore. Astarion is as ‘messy’ as he wants because you’d already seen through him and you have continued to hold space for him- grounding him in your atmosphere.

You want him too- of course. Whether you have realized that or not yet- Astarion isn’t sure.

You occasionally let him feed from you (if you don’t have to pull an all-nighter for a Tavern gig) and he can taste your desire in your blood. The shyness and lack of advances on your end make more sense now- you are entirely inexperienced.

It’s absolutely delicious and now Astarion is really kicking himself for not asking if you could both skip meeting with your mutual companions to go out together.

Astarion wanted to ask to take you to dinner. He wasn’t quite sure why that was his first thought considering he can’t eat, but he figured he could drink wine while the two of you talked. His next plan of action was to offer his hand to you as you walked home together, maybe read together for a bit, and then he was hoping that you could be, well, intimate with each other. He genuinely wants to be with you that way and he hopes the feeling is mutual, but that you don’t only see him as a sex object.

Astarion breathes a sigh of relief when the group finally decides to leave the tavern. It may not be the night he envisioned, but it’s quickly amended by the walk home. His idle fingers take up the space between yours and you don’t fight the invasion- instead you smile coyly and a Rosie blush paints your cheeks. He wonders what it would feel like to have your hands entangled in his hair as he-

“Astarion?”

His train of thought is interrupted by his name leaving your lips- your brows furrowed in concern.

“Are you okay? I’ve been asking you if you want to continue to read that book together when we get home, but you seem kind of out of it.”

“Oh!” he manages to choke out, “I- of course, Darling- I would love to continue our book. I apologize, I didn’t realize how lost in thought I had become.”

You open the door of the apartment, a look of concern still adorning your face. You are so adorable and wonderful- he wants to kiss the worry off of your face.

You are discarding your shoes at the door while Astarion goes to locate the bottle of wine he had purchased earlier that day. Reading is fun and all, but Astarion has another idea.

Why not use a childish game to move your relationship forward? It’s not like Astarion has ever claimed to be above that and he could easily pass the idea off as wanting to continue having fun.

“That’s not a book,” you tease, eyeballing the bottle of wine suspiciously, “are you attempting to put me in a stupor and on my birthday nonetheless?”

“Darling,” he says with a gasp, his hand splayed across his chest, “how dare you accuse me of such a thing? I’m positively hurt.”

You merely roll your eyes at him, but happily accept the glass he pours you. As you go to sip- he puts his hand over the top of the glass.

“I was thinking we could continue that debaucherous little game we were all playing earlier,” Astarion says with feigned innocence, “what was it called again? Ever have I? Never have I?”

“Never have I ever?”

Astarion tries not to smile too widely at the way your eyes slightly widen at his words and his enthusiastic nod. He wonders if you realize you’ve been caught.

“Yes! Thank you, Darling- that would have driven me to the brink of insanity,” he says with a chuckle, “in the spirit of good fun, you may go first.”

You give him an unamused look before giving in.

“Never have I ever….. been a VAMPIRE!”

“You wretched little-!”

Astarion scowls, pretending to be irritated as he sips his wine. He narrows his eyes at you and feels his chest bloom with feelings of affection as the mischievous glint in your eye grows brighter.

“Never have I ever… lit a bookshelf on fire.”

Your cheeks burn brightly as you leer at him over the top of your glass. The questions continue to be absurd and personal- questions that the others wouldn’t even begin to think about asking.

Never have I ever read this trashy novel, never have I ever been personally victimized by my roommate buying a ‘stay out’ sign, so on and so forth until Astarion finally feels comfortable enough to use the one ‘never have I ever’ that he’s been sitting on since you both arrived at home.

“Never have I ever lied about having sex.”

The look on your face is priceless. Astarion can’t help but let the thrilled little giggle leave his lips as you stammer over your words.

“Uh- I- hmmmmmmmmm,” you gulp the remaining morsels of wine, “how did you… was it that obvious?”

It’s moments like these where he forgets tact and says the first stupid thing that comes to his brain.

“No, I just made a point of watching.”

Shit.

Your lips purse as a look of satisfaction crosses your face. You wiggle your eyebrows at him before pouring yourself a bit more wine.

“Oh is that so?” you tease, “and why ever would you feel the need to do that?”

Cheeky pup.

“Hmmmm,” he hums, sliding closer to you on the couch, “you could say it may align with an interest of mine?”

The words you are about to say die on your tongue when his fingers begin to trail up under your dress- his eyes find yours in an attempt to ask a silent question.

Your eyes are blown wide with lust, need, and adoration. Your body naturally relaxes under his touch and he can already smell the scent of your budding arousal.

“Wh- what kind of interest?” You whisper, looking at him earnestly.

“Well,” Astarion moves until he’s hovering over you on the couch, he begins leaving a trail of sweet kisses along your jaw, “a tactful, brilliant individual such as myself needed to know for research as you are a subject I have yet to study.”

“And if you were?” you stammer, “given the opportunity, I mean?”

Astarion’s route along your jaw stops abruptly as he looks at you- the nervousness in your voice causing him to doubt his assessment of the situation. He’s surprised to see a hopefulness in your gaze- maybe you do just want sex? Maybe that’s all you want from this at all?

Astarion tries to suppress the disappointment that threatens to pull angry words out of his mouth. If this is what he is to you then he supposes he can live with that.

“Naturally we’d be having sex already, my Dear.”

You are searching his face and your lips are pursed in a thin line.

“I haven’t been… intimate with anyone because I want it to be with someone I really care about,” you say softly, “and I really care about you, Astarion. That’s why I want to make sure that this is what you want- that you care about me in this way too.”

Astarion isn’t really sure what to do with that information. He’s sure the blank stare on his face isn’t helping the situation or your nervousness.

A choked sob gets stuck in his throat- you care for him and you are willing to have sex with him because you care for him. It’s not just because you think he’s ‘pretty’ or fell for all his honeyed words.

“This is what I want, Darling,” he returns your words with equal softness, “I want to be with you in every intimate way imaginable.”

A shock overwhelms his body when you sit up and hesitantly press your lips to his, but he rebounds even faster the moment you start to pull away.

Your lips are soft and warm against his. They are even more wonderful than he could ever imagine. Astarion grinds himself into you- noting how perfectly you fit together with him between your legs. The shakey moan and clash of teeth causes him to smile.

Instead of taking control of the situation, he allows you to guide him. Your inexperienced mouth is clumsy with it’s affections as you learn how to intertwine yourself with him.

The touch and act is affectionate and unhurried, curious and innocent. Astarion feels like a giddy virgin himself as he begins to explore the skin hiding underneath your flimsy dress.

Your arousal is already coating the inside of your thighs, your underwear soaked through, and Astarion nearly loses his composure entirely. He wants to let you take this at your pace, but Gods above that is not going to be an easy feat.

His curious hands find purchase on your hips and at the hem of your underwear- his thumbs dipping underneath the fabric to tease you ever so slightly.

It feels like electricity courses through both of you with each moment of skin contact. You’ve laid next to each other, you’ve fallen asleep in each other’s arms, and overall, you’ve developed a friendship with each other.

You feel made for him and he feels made for you.

You have never felt more confident in a decision in your entire life. Your body sparks to life under his touch and you try to push aside the embarrassment you feel with every whimper and moan that leaves your lips.

You want- no need- more. You want to know him and you want him to know you.

You boldly allow your hands to meet his and you begin to discard your already soaked underclothes- Astarion growls against your neck at the action. His hands grab yours- pinning them above your head and you whine in protest.

“Someone’s eager,” he teases, “are you tired of feeling empty, Little Love? Would you like me to ruin you for anyone else?”

You clench around nothing and shake your head ‘yes desperately in response. Astarion clicks his tongue and smiles devilishly.

“That’s not an answer, Darling.”

“Please.”

He lifts an eyebrow expectantly and you huff in frustration- looking away from him. One of his hands guides your eyes back to his and his thumb gently glides along your lower lip, coaxing a needy whimper from you.

You feel so embarrassed- trying to express what you need, but maybe he finds it enduring? Or at least you hope he does.

“Will you please make love to me, Astarion?”

Astarion’s face looks like the definition of happiness as he smiles down upon you- for a creature of the night, he sure is capable of beaming like the sun.

The offending article of clothing is removed and tossed somewhere across the living room as Astarion settles his face in between your legs.

“Well since you asked so nicely,” he says teasingly while nipping at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He takes his sweet time kissing and cleaning up the nectar that coats your legs, your growing need making you more and more impatient as you writhe under his touch. Astarion makes a point of avoiding your wanting heat- tears pricking your eyes as you become more and more overstimulated.

“You are so, so beautiful,” he breathes against your skin, “so beautiful and good.”

“Astarion, please.”

The desperation in your voice pulls a hum of pleasure from Astarion as he presses one more kiss on the inside of your thigh. You open your mouth to beg again- to ask for literally any contact- when you feel his cold tongue lick all the way up your folds, circling your sensitive clit, before latching his lips to the bundle of nerves.

You keen- loudly- at the sudden attention on your clit and Astarion has seemed to quickly find that perfect spot- teasing it with his tongue as your back arches and your hips press into his face.

Astarion’s fingers push your hips down, locking you in place against the couch, and you feel another shudder of arousal go through you when you think about the bruises that are bound to be on your hips in the morning.

Astarion’s expert tongue circles and teases at your clit- occasionally taking a detour to taste you, lapping up every part of your essence.

He feels like he’s starving as he devours you with his tongue- if he could have it his way, he would never stop.

You are so wet for him that the couch underneath you is soaked and your dress surely isn’t much better off. Your moans and whimpers cause his cock to strain painfully against the front of his pants.

He decides to kiss back up your body, ripping open the lacy fabric of your dress. The Gods must be real because it’s a damn miracle that you aren’t wearing a bra.

Thankfully you don’t seem to be too worried about the state of your dress.

Astarion greedily sucks one of your nipples between his teeth while the other is rolled between his thumb and index finger.

He wants to consume you and you want to be consumed.

Your fingers find purchase in his hair and you have his mouth on yours within seconds. His other hand returns to your now neglected breast. You cry out against his mouth with each pinch of his fingers and your pleasure has begun to soak through the front of his own pants. He’s certain he’s created his own mess anyway.

Admittedly, he’s been thinking about playing with your breasts all week. You loudly complained about how sore they felt since your moon blood was coming next week. Astarion has been thinking about every delicious way to massage the soreness away since.

His hips grind into your exposed cunt- snaking one of his hands inbetween the two of you, he begrudgingly replaces the pressure of his clothed cock by sliding a finger inside of you.

He adores how your back arches underneath him and the way his name falls off your lips like a prayer. Your heels are digging into his back and your head is thrown back as you keen with each movement of his finger. Astarion curls his fingers upward and focuses on the perfect spot- your toes curl with the sensation and your moans become higher in pitch.

The second one meets some resistance and he’s almost positive a third finger is going to be needed before you are ready, but you clench around his hips, grabbing his attention.

“Astarion- I need you inside me please,” you beg him.

Whatever resolve he had to make sure you were 100 percent ready has broken with that simple sentence. He’s pulling you up off the couch and into his arms- practically racing to throw you on the bed in his room.

To be entirely honest- Astarion can’t even remember if he was actually wearing any clothes considering how quickly he pulls them off.

Astarion has you laid across his bed- ready and wanting for him. You are positively exquisite.

Your shy eyes and body try to hide from him- your arms coming to cover your breasts and your eyes looking away from him. You are suddenly very aware of the lack of clothing and Astarion- well- he looks like an angel.

You drink in his silhouette while avoiding his eyes and you feel yourself clench around nothing at the sight of his cock- hard and dripping with precum because of you. You. The silly, awkward virgin that has never been in a relationship before.

Eager hands are entangling themselves with yours and Astarion’s suddenly on top of you again with your arms pinned away from your face.

“Look at me.”

The command sends a wave of desire through you- Astarion’s voice is thick with arousal and you forget to breathe when you finally look at him.

Astarion has been all sharp edges and mischief since you’ve met him, but right now?

His eyes are soft and inviting- akin to warm crimson bed sheets rather than blood weeping from a cut. Astarion’s lips are slightly parted as he tries to commit your face to memory. His usually perfect hair is mussed up from all the attention you’ve given it.

“I am certain the Gods have sent you to destroy me,” he murmurs in awe before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “tell me if I need to be more gentle, my Love.”

Astarion lines himself up with your entrance and you wrap your legs around his waist. He gently pushes himself inside of you, giving a little bit more every time until his hips are flush against yours. The further he goes, the more his train of thought disappears.

You feel wonderful and the whimpers that leave your mouth with every inch more he gives you makes him moan loudly into the crook of your neck. He kisses up and along your jaw, praising you for taking him so well.

You have never felt more full in your entire life- it feels… right. Like your body has been made to fit with Astarion’s. The light rocking movement of his hips works to ease the initial discomfort of adjusting to his size, but you already feel like you need more. You want to be lost in this moment with him- you want to know and feel everything.

It’s as if he reads your mind as he pace begins to pick up, his thrusts begin to get longer and more drawn out. The tears that were initially pricking your eyes have disappeared entirely in favor of desperate, borderline embarrassing, wanting moans.

“You feel so incredible, Darling,” Astarion whines as thrusts into you, “you are being so good for me.”

His eyes meet yours and he slows his motions ever so slightly- your body protests at the loss of friction, but Astarion’s lips gently coaxing gasps from yours distracts your body from the lack of motion.

The world surrounding you feels absolutely nonexistent as Astarion kisses you deeply. One of his hands finds purchase in your hair and deepens the kiss even more. You feel as if you could float away from the onslaught of affection as you return his affections with equal fervor.

Astarion pulls himself almost entirely out of you before snapping his hips- rutting himself back into you. Your lips leave his, favoring a shape fit for a breathy cry of pleasure.

He finds your eyes again in the haze of his own euphoria. This is a dream to him- a wonderful, beautiful dream.

“I adore you,” you whisper against his lips.

Astarion smiles giddily.

“And I, you.”

Astarion loses his composure as he picks up his pace again- you clench around him, your already tight heat engulfing him even more with each movement of his hips. Your orgasm runs through you- your legs are shaking around him as your grip around his hips begins to give.

Astarion supports the lower half of your body, groping your ass as he chases his own little death.

“I need you to cum inside me, Astarion,” you say wistfully, “cum for me please.”

That’s all it takes to drive him over the edge entirely- no longer able to hold on anymore as his seed pours inside of you. Astarion buries his face in the crook of your neck as he let’s the feeling of pleasure wash over him.

You smell of sex and your favorite soap, which has coincidentally become his favorite soap, and he sighs happily when you start lazily tracing circles along his shoulders. You’ve done this for him before, in a more clothed setting, but it’s a thousand times better when he’s able to feel all of you against him.

Astarion can’t remember the last time he had sex with someone and felt like he was comfortable in their arms. Honestly, he’s more than comfortable with you and yes, that does terrify him.

He just had the best sexual experience of his life and yet he is still terrified because he doesn’t want you to leave or decide this is all he’s good for.

“Starry?”

He hums in response.

“Are you okay?” you ask in a whisper, “you got really tense just now.”

Astarion is quick to look at you when you ask that question. Your eyes are curious and your brow is furrowed. He really can’t hide anything from you. Astarion rolls over onto his back- not wanting you to see how scared and already heartbroken he is. He honestly isn’t sure what he would do if he stopped meaning anything to you- anything of value anyway.

“I… I don’t want…,” he struggles to get the words out, “I- this has been probably the single best sexual escapade that I have ever had, my Love. My only hope is that… you don’t only see me for, well, sex after tonight.”

He’s surprised when you crawl over to him, straddle him, and then put his face between your hands. The serious look in your eyes worries him- did he upset you? Offend you? Are you going to-

“I want you to throw that thought away right now and if you can’t- then I will assure you everyday before it goes away,” you say firmly, “I’ve fallen for you- all of you- over these several months. I think you are the smartest, most interesting, and funniest man I have ever met. I look forward to coming home to you and I hate leaving in the mornings.

“I… you are all I have ever wanted out of a partner or even just a person, Astarion. I choose you- I choose you everyday- in whatever way you’ll have me.”

All Astarion does is cry in response. He doesn’t mean to and of course he wishes he would stop.

I’ve known you for 200 years. Haven’t I suffered enough?

I choose you- I choose you everyday.

You hold him while he cries and Astarion lets himself soak up the feeling of safety- truly believing it this time. You want him for him and you will never know how much that means, but Astarion always will.

When he’s done crying, he kisses you gently sitting you both up against the headboard with you still on his lap. Astarion runs circles into your thighs as you lay your head on his chest and his head rests against yours. You remain there together for a while before you finally break the silence.

“Do you want to talk about it Star?”

Astarion thinks for a moment.

“I- no,” he says hesitantly, “not right now- I just want to enjoy this moment with you, my Dear.”

You hum in response and then look around the room. Your eyes spot something that causes you to sport the cheekiest grin Astarion has ever seen.

“You didn’t finish your wine.”

He looks over and then back to you with an eyebrow raised.

“I suppose I did not. Why-“

“Never have I ever had sex with someone on their birthday.”

A pregnant pause envelopes the space between you- Astarion blinks at you a few times in astonishment and then reaches for the wine glass- a loving smile on his face.

He’s grateful- you never push him and you don’t force him to continue talking about difficult subjects once he’s calmed down. Perhaps he’s even more grateful that he may be able to spend a lifetime with you, if he plays his cards right. Gods, he hopes he plays his cards right. Astarion is not much of a planner after all.

“You’re lucky I adore you.”

“I know.”

[maisiedemars]

BIOGRAPHY | MUSINGS

BASICS.

character name: maisie linh demars  

age & dob: march 28th, 2000 (23)

gender identity & pronouns: female, she/her/hers

sexual orientation & relationship status: questioning, single

residential area: ocean crest apartments

occupation: social media influencer

length of time in aurora bay: all her life

traits: affable, self-doubting

faceclaim: lana condor

FAMILY.

mother: leyna demars (neé nguyen)

father: rocco demars (deceased)

siblings (wc): kai demars (brother, 33)

TL;DR.

aurora bay native and youngest child to a t, you might recognize maisie demars from a tik tok fyp near you!

BIOGRAPHY.

tw death

many people would assume that the hefty age gap between maisie and her older brother, kai, was the product of an unplanned pregnancy

in actuality, maisie wasn't a surprise pregnancy, but leyna and rocco demar's last chance to have another child before it would be deemed unwise to do so--a use it or lose it type of situation

having spent ten years thinking their son was to be their only child, the demars (leyna, specifically) had put all their best efforts into shaping kai into being the ideal heir of the family

it's not to say that no effort was made with maisie, but whereas kai had been easily molded to their expectations, she'd always seemed to have marched to the beat of her own drum, much to their mother's frustration

she was not immune to that nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she was lagging behind, both riding the coattails and hiding in the shadows of her brother's successes--and if she were somehow able to forget it, her mother was always right there to remind her

her dad was both her crutch and her saving grace, there to shield her from the worse of her mother's criticisms, and to bail her out of various committments or extracurriculars she found herself involved in and no longer wished to be. he was her best friend, and biggest supporter.

did well in high school, well liked and able to get along with just about anyone, tried on different cliques and clubs like they were hats...but at the end of those four years, she was nowhere even close to knowing what it was she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

it was her dad who'd suggested community college in order to appease her mother's desire for her to see some higher education, and the first year had gone fine enough--until two months shy of the end of the semester saw rocco being taken from them unexpectedly.

maisie's world shifted on its axis. never had she imagined a world without her father in it, not one where she was still young, not one where she still needed him. it was devastating, and left her feeling even more lost than before. she subsequently dropped out of school for the next semester.

somewhere in this grieving period did she start turning towards social media as a distraction. posting silly little videos that got no views, tweeting into the void...she couldn't explain it, but something about it helped, made her feel better.

she continued to live at home for the next few years, moving out only six months ago after no longer being able to deal with her mother and brother, who’d returned since their father’s death; slowly clawing her way to an associates degree in communications, working at the movie house theater, and falling in love for the first time.

...and it was breaking up for the first time that turned maisie's silly little hobby into a career, after a tik tok she'd made ugly crying about it went viral. her subscribers had gone from 10's to 1,000's what seemed like overnight, and as she kept the content coming, and the numbers kept rising...she began to feel, for the first time, that maybe this could be something to see through.

six months later, and maisie's just quit her job at the theater in order to pursue content creation full time!

HEADCANONS.

her sexuality is questioning as in questioning if she's even into men at all

still trying to find her "image", but so far her tik toks consist mostly of day in my life/what i eat in a day's and food reviews! maybe a recreation of customer interactions from the movie house every now and again, or imitating her mother.

is so used to lying to her mother about things that, at this point, she lies about the most inconsequential things, like what she ate for breakfast

isn’t in love with the idea that this all started because of her and lorelai’s breakup (it feels exploitative and also hurts to have to keep living through), and is definitely trying to shy away from that kind of content, even if it’s what drew people to her page in the first place

CURRENT CONNECTIONS.

current roommate (and lying to her mother about it) to @majorwalker

former roommate but better off as friends in separate homes with @pearlwestbrook

made a tiktok about her breakup with @lorelailewis and went viral

made @silascody's viral prison hooch and almost threw up

enlists @benniesimpson to be her fake roommate when her mother comes over

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

older brother

cousins

a few best friends

childhood friends/classmates

friends who used to be close but had a falling out

weed smoking/drinking buddies

frequent movie theater goers

community college classmates

tik tok mutuals or collaborators or fans

maybe an unserious ex or two from high school?

neighbors

tinder dates/hookups/one night stands

@aurorabayaesthetic

[nerdzzone]

A Hopeful Mishap

Summary: An unexpected surprise has Madeline and Chris cautiously excited for the next big challenge in their relationship.

Part of the Back To You series

-----

June 2020

Madeline’s head was spinning.

She felt weak, she felt dizzy and she felt a little bit nauseous, but after the diagnosis she’d just been given, it was impossible for her to know whether the way she was feeling was a result of hearing the news or if it was a symptom of her condition.

She was pregnant.

It wasn’t news that she’d been expecting to hear when she went into the doctor’s office that day, but as the shock began to settle she had to admit that it shouldn’t have been entirely unexpected. After all, she’d made the appointment because her period was late, but that had been a common occurrence over the last year and she’d been so sure that - as with all the other times - pregnancy wasn’t the reason. Ever since the dramatic weight loss she’d struggled with throughout her grieving process, she hadn’t had a regular cycle. She’d lost her period completely for almost six months and then when it returned, it was consistently unreliable and worse than it had ever been before. 

In an attempt to give her natural hormones a chance to figure themselves out, she’d stopped taking her birth control pills earlier in the year and despite that choice making no noticeable difference, they’d been relying on the pull out method ever since. She thought they’d been careful and she’d tried her best to track her ovulation, but - as her doctor had just pointed out - it would have been very difficult for her to track it correctly if her cycles weren’t regular.

And now, they were going to have a baby.

She knew that Chris would be happy. He’d been open about his desire to be a dad since they first started dating and he’d been quite worried about her since she’d shared her concerns. He hadn’t brought it up with her, but in the days leading up to her appointment, she’d caught him researching various ailments that could be causing her problems so she knew he’d be relieved that it was nothing more serious.

Then again, having a baby was pretty serious too and Madeline wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it.

For so long, the thought of having a baby terrified her and she’d spent many years associating starting a family with giving up her dreams, her career, and her independence. Before she left him, the guilt of knowing that it was something Chris was eager for and something she wasn’t ready to give him had turned it into a subject that filled her with dread. But their situation had changed. She wasn’t so focused on her career anymore and giving up some of her independence to raise a child was something that had been starting to feel more like it would be a privilege than the punishment she used to think it would be.

There were still a few things that concerned her, but there was an undeniable flicker of excitement bubbling inside her - especially when she thought about breaking the news to Chris. He’d wanted to go with her to the appointment, but there were still restrictions in place that limited the number of people allowed in the doctor’s office to only those who the appointments were for so Madeline had convinced him not to come. She found herself feeling quite grateful for his absence as it allowed her to use her drive home to gather her thoughts and get over the shock, but by the time she’d pulled back into their driveway, she was no wiser about how to tell him. Visions of viral pregnancy reveals danced through her mind, but she knew Chris would have questions as soon as she walked in the door and that she would be entirely incapable of keeping the news to herself long enough to come up with any wild way to announce it so as she headed up the steps of their porch, she decided that being direct was her best course of action.

“Chris!” She called out as she closed their front door closed behind her. “I’m home!”

The sound of Chris and Dodger’s footsteps bounding down the hallway immediately filled her ears and Chris’ anxious curiosity was written all over his face as he skidded to a stop in the entryway.

“How did it go? What did the doctor say?”

Madeline smiled at his eager concern as she scratched Dodger’s ears and tried to figure out what to say.

“Well, she wasn’t super worried at first because, like I said, being underweight and all the stress of the last couple of years can have a huge effect on your menstrual cycle,” Madeline started her explanation. “But it turns out there’s a really simple reason for the current problems that I’m having.”

She’d tried to keep it vague - to leave some mystery until she confirmed anything - but the hopeful glint that appeared in Chris’ eye as he watched her carefully told Madeline that he already had some suspicions about what she was about to say and she had to bite her lip to stop her smile from getting even wider as he questioned her.

“Oh, really? What would that be?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Madeline barely had time to register the look of complete joy on Chris’ face before he’d crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. A laugh fell from her lips as she was pressed tightly into his chest and buried his face in her hair as if he just couldn’t get her close enough.

“Really?” He asked, the emotion in his voice stirring up emotions in her as well. “You’re serious?”

“I am,” she assured him, feeling his grip tighten even more and embracing the comfort of his warmth for a moment before she leaned back to look up at him. “I have an appointment next week for a few tests to give us a little more information, but the doctor said there was no doubt.”

“I knew it,” Chris grinned. “I knew it as soon as you told me your period was late.”

“It seems obvious now. It must have happened on your birthday,” Madeline mused, knowing it was the only recent time they’d slipped up. She’d done the math after it happened and been very confident that she couldn’t get pregnant at that time, but obviously she’d been wrong. “We have pretty bad timing though…”

“Why?” Chris smirked. “I think it’s pretty good timing, everything is cancelled and neither of us have anywhere to be.”

“That’s my point,” Madeline argued. “The world’s in such a mess, there might not even be a world left by the time this baby’s born.”

“If there’s no world left then having a baby will be the least of our problems.”

It was a fair counter to her somewhat dramatic claim and Madeline couldn’t help but smile despite the very valid concerns that were running through her mind.

They had been luckier than most throughout the pandemic. Once it was clear that everything was shutting down, they’d settled in at home in Massachusetts with Scott and spent the first few months of strict lockdowns just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. Life had been so busy in various ways for all of them in the last few years so being forced to drop everything and spend a few months of quality time together was somewhat of a blessing in disguise despite the uncertainty brought on by the ‘unprecedented’ shutdown of the world. Of course, like everyone else, they had days where the close proximity had them all at each other’s throats and days when they grew anxious to get back to normal, more productive life, but they’d tried to make the best of it and Chris and Madeline had really appreciated how the lack of distractions gave them the time to reconnect and rebuild a solid foundation for their relationship.

However, their comfortable situation didn’t shelter them entirely from the mess the virus was causing. A quick scroll through any social media showed the widespread suffering that was happening all over the world and while the case numbers did seem to be declining at least temporarily, there was still no long-term solution and the virus was still running quite rampant with no guarantees that things would be any more under control in the next nine months.

“Okay, that’s true,” Madeline admitted. “But you know what I mean, things are so bleak at the moment. What kind of world are we bringing a child into?”

“One where they’ll be surrounded by so much love from everyone we know that they won’t even notice any of the bad things.”

Once again, that was a statement that Madeline couldn’t argue with and just the thought of how excited all their friends and family would be had the sting of tears pricking in her eyes.

“This baby is going to have more love than they know what to do with,” she agreed, but there was another little doubt nagging at the back of her mind that she couldn’t help but voice. “But, do you think it’s happening a little soon?”

She hoped that Chris wouldn’t take her concern as any kind of sign that she had doubts about their relationship, but they’d only just settled back into life together when the pandemic had forced them into a living situation that wasn’t really comparable to their normal everyday routine so she felt it was a fair question. She knew in her heart that she would always love Chris and that he felt the same - that had become clear after they both spent their three and a half year separation moping and pining away for each other - but she’d learned the hard way the first time around that love wasn’t always enough. Chris had a busy life with a job that demanded a lot from him while she was currently in the process of a career change as she’d just barely pulled herself out of the pit of her grief. Children were a complicated addition to even the most stable relationships and she had to admit that it made her a little bit nervous.

“Probably a little sooner than I would have suggested if it was planned,” Chris admitted, but after a moment of thought, he shrugged. “But, if I’m bein’ honest, it doesn’t really matter to me. I’m all in, Madeline. I want to be with you for the rest of my life and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen so whether we have a baby now or in ten years, my feelings aren’t going to change.”

He spoke with such casual conviction that Madeline couldn’t help but believe him and she felt her heart swell in her chest as the tears that she’d been fighting back began to blur her vision until they spilled over and slipped down her cheeks. 

“That’s sweet, Chris,” she choked out. “And I hope you know that I feel the same way.”

Chris’ face immediately shifted into a look of skepticism, but he managed to push it away almost as fast as it appeared.

“Yeah?” He questioned, gently wiping away her tears with his thumb. “Are you sure? Because I’ve been bracing myself to talk you out of a panic attack since you got home and told me the news.”

That admission and the gentle smirk on his face left Madeline unsure about whether she should feel offended that he had so little faith in her ability to hold it together or touched that he’d been fretting about what her reaction would be, but in the end a smile slid onto her face as she let his comment slide and nodded her head.

“I’m very sure,” she assured him. “I learned the hard way that walking away from you was the worst decision I could have made and I’m never going to do it again. I know starting a family was something that I used to be really scared of and I know that I let it drive us apart, but I think I’m ready for it now and I hope it’ll bring us even closer together.”

“How could it not?” His question came out as hardly more than a murmur and Madeline noticed his eyes had grown glassy too as his hands slipped down to rest on her stomach. “They’re half you and half me, they’re gonna be the coolest kid in town.”

Despite the tenderness of the moment, that claim pulled a snort of laughter from Madeline as she raised her eyebrow suspiciously.

“Hmm, I’m not sure about that. They’ll definitely be determined and probably a little controlling, but I’m not sure that ‘cool’ is a word anyone used to describe either of us until we were at least twenty.”

“Maybe it was twenty for you,” Chris chuckled. “But I think I was probably at least twenty-five before I was even close to being cool and those teenage years were rough.”

“They were rough for you, weren’t they?” Madeline teased. “With those bad haircuts, braces and all that musical theatre…”

“Yeah, it’s no wonder you didn’t wanna date me until I was thirty.”

“Oh, please,” Madeline scoffed. “That was all your fault. I would have absolutely dated you in high school even with your tragic style choices.”

“I still find that hard to believe,” Chris smiled. “But at least I’ve learned from my mistakes and I can pass that knowledge onto our little baby when the time comes.”

Madeline knew that no self-respecting teenager would take style tips from their dad even if he was still a big Hollywood celebrity at that time, but the phrase ‘our little baby’ had her so distracted that she didn’t even bother to argue. 

She was going to have a family again. They were going to have a baby. He was going to be a dad and she was going to be a mom - they were going to be parents. 

She knew that she always had the support of Chris’ family, but there was a certain kind of unfillable hole in her heart that she’d had since she’d lost her parents and while she knew that having a baby wouldn’t magically take away the pain of that loss, she felt like being a mother and having a family of her own might just put a little piece of her broken heart back in place.

-

One Month Later

Walking through the cemetery, Chris found himself feeling strangely nervous. He’d always found it a little eerie, but for once it wasn’t the setting that was unsettling him - it was what he was there to do. By the time he got to the right location and saw the familiar headstones, his stomach was in knots but he pushed through as he laid the flowers he’d brought between the two graves and cleared his throat as he stepped back.

“So,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t really know how to do this, but it feels like an important thing to do so I’m gonna try my best and I’m sure you’ll at least get a kick out of my awkwardness. Greg, I know you always loved any opportunity to laugh at me so it’ll be up to you to keep him focused for me, Mrs. D.”

Despite how incredibly uncomfortable he felt, a smile slid onto his face as images of the many times Madeline’s mom had been forced to rein in her husband flashed into his mind, but even that hint of amusement couldn’t squash his nerves. 

He’d been to visit the graves of Madeline’s parents several times since they died, but talking to them was never something he’d felt was necessary. He’d tried it once the first time he’d visited - he’d attempted an apology and tried to offer an explanation for why he hadn’t been brave enough to face Madeline at their funeral - but it was awkward and strange and he felt like they were just as likely to already know how he was feeling as they were to be able to hear him talking to their graves.

However, it had become an important thing to Madeline and something she made an effort to do on a regular basis. He did go with her from time to time, but he’d always left the talking up to her and now he was forced to muddle through it on his own.

“I know Maddie already stopped by the other day and told you our big news,” he continued. “I’m pretty excited about it, I’ve wanted it for a long time, but I just wanted you both to know that I’m gonna take care of her. I know I did some things that you guys weren’t happy about and even if I never admitted it while you were alive, I do regret how I handled our break up and I should have listened to your advice more carefully than I did.”

He paused, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten again as he took a deep breath.

“We’re back on track now though and we’re better than ever,” he assured them. “And that kinda brings me to why I’m here. I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

He let the announcement hang in the warm summer air of the quiet cemetery for a moment as if he was giving them time to react before he continued.

“I’m gonna wait a few weeks so she doesn’t think I’m just doing it because of the baby, but I know we’ve all talked about this before so I hope I still have your approval. I guess it’d be nice if you could give me some kinda sign that I do, but I’m not even sure that you’re listening to this so, if I’m bein’ honest, I’m gonna do it anyway.”

He shrugged and bit back a smirk, but felt a pang of sadness that he would never get the chance to actually hear their thoughts on his rekindled relationship with their daughter. He was fairly confident that they would have been just as happy as his family had been, but Greg had never been afraid of telling Chris what he thought and he knew there were times after their breakup that he’d been very disappointed in him.

All he could hope was that wherever her parents were watching them from now, they knew how devoted he was to Madeline and how determined he was to do whatever it took to spend the rest of his life with her. He stayed a few minutes longer to do his best to convey that message before eventually making his way back to the car and heading to where he’d told Madeline he was actually going - the grocery store to buy her some ice cream.

It wasn’t until later that evening that his one-sided conversation with her parents returned to his mind.

Madeline was stretched out on the couch with her head in his lap, snoring gently as the first trimester exhaustion seemed to be catching up with her and he mindlessly stroked her hair as he watched the baseball game that was on the TV. It was the Boston Red Sox versus the New York Mets and while Chris had started off only half-paying attention, there was something about the game that quickly sucked him in. It almost felt like he was having deja-vu, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. The game had started off appallingly for the Red Sox - they were down by six in the third inning and barely seemed like they had the energy to play - but in the fourth inning they miraculously turned it around. Suddenly they were racking up the runs while the Mets couldn’t get a hit to save their lives.

It wasn’t until the final score of 13-6 flashed up on the screen at the end of the game that Chris realized why it had all felt so familiar to him.

Five years earlier, in the summer of 2015, he’d taken Madeline’s dad to a baseball game. It was something they’d done several times in his life, but that specific day he’d suggested it with the intention of letting him know that he planned to propose and asking for his approval. He knew Madeline would have rolled her eyes and informed him that the only person whose approval he needed was hers - which, funnily enough, he clearly didn’t have at that time - but he was a fan of tradition and it had felt like the right thing to do.

Her dad had been thrilled by the news and knowing that he had his enthusiastic support had only made Chris even more confident in the decision.

But what reminded him of that moment was the way the game he’d just watched had unfolded. The one that he’d attended that day with Madeline’s dad had been exactly the same. The Red Sox were playing the Mets and were losing until the fourth inning when the momentum completely switched and they won with a final score of 13-6.

It wasn’t anything groundbreaking - teams that got off to a rough start often turned it around and won the game - and Chris was aware that visiting Madeline’s parent’s graves had left him feeling quite sentimental, but he couldn’t help but think that perhaps that was the sign that he’d asked for. It could have just been one giant coincidence and nothing worth noting, but as he looked down at Madeline sleeping peacefully in his lap he chose to believe that it was more - that it was her father letting him know that he still supported Chris’ decision to propose as wholeheartedly as he had when Chris had first told him his plan - and the reassurance and confidence that thought gave him was almost enough to have him waking Madeline up right then and there just to ask her as soon as he possibly could.

-

Next

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @denisemarieangelina @elrw24 @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @trottae17 @annvail @rach2602 @sarahdonald87 @firephotogrl74 @ourfinest-hour @k-evans-writes​

[xserpx]

Battle Ground Thoughts

Major spoilers below.

The Good

I really enjoyed the last part of the fight with Ethniu. Hendrick's sacrifice was well done, and the Marcone reveal was fantastic. The action was really great, although it did get too much at times, especially the beginning of the fight with Ethniu where it’s more like reading a shonen manga, lots of huge ‘final’ attacks and mist clearing as they wait for the blood spray before someone pulls a trap card. Still pretty likeable.

Marcone as a Knight of the Blackened Denarius is intriguing. My one caveat is that I think it diminishes his post-Small Favor achievements quite a bit, knowing he had access to all that power. It makes sense, especially considering just how much Marcone was able to get done, but yeah, I liked this little twist. Marcone is probably the main reason I would keep reading the books, as things stand.

I like the fact Harry's finally been kicked off the White Council, as he should be. I'm not sure why this is controversial, though. He’s clearly broken several laws, and tbh I was kind of surprised they kept him on after becoming the Winter Knight, like... conflicted interests, much?

Drakul and the Blampires were cool. Wouldn't mind seeing them again.

The Bad

Justine's reveal, while interesting bc omg Outsiders infesting the characters we love, it also absolutely terrifies me in terms of what it actually means for Thomas/Justine both in the future and in the past. A future that might not even happen, now. And considering how long it's been since she was infected, it's entirely possible a lot of Justine's feelings have been manufactured as well. One of the things at the top of my Do Not Want list was Justine or the baby getting hurt, and now we’re here.

I'm severely disinterested in Harry/Lara. I have no idea where it's going, but it's boring at best. Maybe Jim Butcher has an idea for it that doesn’t result in me rolling my eyes, but I’m not feeling charitable today.

Ivy and Harry never got a proper conversation. Also why tf was Ivy dressed in a school uniform for that fight? Unless she's a sailor senshi or something, it just doesn't make sense. Plus she should be in her mid-late teens by now, ffs, not her early teens.

We're still drawing out the Starborn mystery? Ugh, ok.

Michael's cursing out the White Council for kicking Harry off the team... Completely OOC, sorry, I hated it. Michael is a great character because he doesn't swear as a matter of principle. If he had to start swearing, that was a bad hill to choose.

The way the morality of the White Council flip flops depending on Dresden's mood is getting annoying. At the meeting at the end, he says the Council is the biggest defender of humanity, and that he's clearly sitting at the monsters' table, but they're also supposed to be the enemy for treating him as such? Ebenezar and some of the Seniors are douchebags, for sure - especially Eb as it's personal - but Carlos and the rest are solid good guys trying to do their best. After everything that's happened, Harry shouldn't be so freaking bitter. He’s a monster now. Either own it, or make different choices. Also Carlos should’ve told him what Molly did to him. I hate that this hasn’t been addressed and that Carlos just looks like a suspicious bastard when he’s actually sustained life-changing injuries and trauma. Communication generally between Harry and the White Council needs to start happening like yesterday.

Butters needs to just go away, please. Give me a break from this shithead. He's had a few months of training and can keep up with literally everyone. He gets all these Crowning Moments of Awesome, but he never suffers for it, and at this point I'm genuinely wondering whether he'll ever suffer any consequences whatsoever. Also he constantly outshines Sanya, who is ostensibly better qualified, and the Sword of Hope should have been the stronger of the two in that last fight. I’m sick of hearing how great Butters is, and being expected to laugh at all his dumb, nerdy references.

Harry barely thinks about Thomas when he considers his recent losses. Sure Thomas is still alive, but barely, with no guarantees he'll survive or that he'll come back the same person. Harry should be grieving for him as much as he's grieving for Karrin at this point. I also wanted there to be more reason behind Thomas's actions, some sort of conspiracy within the White Court, but there wasn't. It's bad enough being anxious for Thomas, but being anxious for his whole goddamn family is just way too much, ffs.

The Ugly

I mean, I've told people: if I'd tried to imagine a worst case scenario for Karrin Murphy's death, it would have been better than the ending we got. It's worse than James Norrington dying at the hands of Bootstrap Bill. It's worse than Superman's dad dying while trying to save the dog. She shouldn't have died at all, period, but if she absolutely had to go, there is no fucking way in HELL that that was the best way for it to happen. Whether she comes back or not, there is no way to justify that scene. Gard saying she saved everyone by defending Dresden might be a satisfying Watsonian explanation for some, but of all the times, of all the places, of all the ways, and of all the people... JB picked the absolute worst possible combination. Absolute. Garbage. It's not that he can't write decent sacrifices. Hendrick's death was superb! So why the FUCK couldn't Murph get the same treatment? Why the FUCK was she killed off so FUCKING pointlessly? This isn't a real life story. This isn't some hyperrealistic, anyone can die, Game of Thrones type bullshit, where you can just kill off the second main character as shock value and have it be valuable to a bigger theme. This is the Dresden Files, a fucking series where all the women are Playboy models, and there's a middle-aged dweeby guy in sports goggles riding a skateboard and wielding a lightsaber and facing off with a Titan after just a few months of training, and having threesomes with bisexual women half his age, one of whom wears a fucking Avengers t-shirt to bed. It's a fanservice show. So it is not too much to ask for the main female character to be given the kind of death she actually deserves, let alone that she be allowed to live long enough to enjoy a relationship that's been so fantastically built up over 15+ books. (Query: was any of her family at her funeral? Audiobooks make searching hard, and I can’t find out if that was mentioned.) It's not unfair to hate the FUCK out of JB for pulling such a horrible, awful, LAZY move. I didn’t cry when it happened. I actually laughed quite a bit, maniacally, because it was that much of a train wreck. I'm not crying now, either. I'm just so, so tired. RIP Murph.

Granted, I haven't had to wait for a Dresden Files book like this before. Skin Game had a very neat ending, whereas this asks way, way, way more questions than it answers, which is probably more par for the course in this series? But now my two favourite characters are out of the field and may never come back, and I'm just so fucking tired and disappointed, and tired of being disappointed. I don't know whether it's worth staying invested in the vague hope Jim Butcher will start giving a shit about anyone other than Butters, but I can't see the next book being much good when Thomas and Karrin won't be there. When Karrin may never be there again. When I don't even know if the next book will show up, or if there'll be another hiatus resulting in a mediocre story.

I'm predicting that there'll be a Murph-centric short story in the near future that'll probably be a "gotcha!" to all the fans like me who fucking hate how BG turned out. Either it'll finish her off entirely or hint at a resurrection, which may or may not come. Either way, it won't justify her death. It won't make this better.

If I wasn’t as invested in Karrin, I’d like this book more. I can understand if people like it, and there are definitely some good things about it, but it’s hard to appreciate those bits when there’s such a massive pile of stinking shit sitting smack bang in the middle.

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Wilford Warfstache - A Personification of Death

Inspired by my obsession with the Hades game, I found myself watching William’s story in the WKM series in a different light. An idea crossed my mind - what if he was somehow connected to Thanatos, the Greek personification of death? This is my attempt to come up with a tale about it, complete with some cheesiness that would work in the context of a myth.

TW  war (story discussion about William’s time in the war), death (discussed frequently), alcohol (mentioned in passing, but alludes briefly to using it to ‘help’)

Word Count: 4,242 (hence the much needed read-more. Enjoy the wall of text!)

-

In modern times, there are often tales of gods who parent children and abandon them to fend for themselves without the support of influential or important figures to help provide guidance for the young demi-god who is thrust into unfamiliar territory.

This isn’t a tale quite like that, for the ‘father’ never realised until it was too late to reach out. Otherwise, Thanatos would have been there all the way. Who can naturally embrace death when it becomes so normal in their life? But worse, how can one expect to approach a mother when she had never met him? Now, don’t take that the wrong way. Thanatos would never consider doing something immoral with any human. Thantao’s ‘parenthood’ is wholly indirect.

-

An ill man had died in his sleep, and Thanatos knew he was the one to collect the soul and bring it safely to the Underworld. The soul rose in the form of a pale blue wisp and drifted toward the figure cloaked in black in the search for comfort. At that, the door was opened by a young lady in the first trimester of pregnancy, the man’s sister. Though she could not see them, she locked eyes with Thanatos before he disappeared into smoke. However, a single black feather had come loose and fluttered to rest beside the man’s head, allowing it to become visible to the mortal eye. The lady, taking this as a sign that her brother was still with them even in death, kept the feather.

It was woven into a necklace she wore every day. It brought a sense of peace she didn’t understand, but could explain as her brother keeping her company like he promised. But it had a second effect. The magic imbued within the feather began affecting the baby she was carrying, giving him a divine connection that would otherwise never have existed.

When William J. Barnum was born, any onlooker would assume his only connection to death was simply through him being named after his deceased uncle. But to anyone who could sense the extraordinary, they would gather the clues and notice a pattern.

As a child, William was drawn to death. He would find abandoned, injured animals in gardens and parks and keep them company until they passed. He held a quiet curiosity about the topic, often asking about it when it appeared in childhood storybooks, questioning why adults were so keen to avoid talking about it. For him, it was something he found comfort in. When others were grieving, William was able to reassure them that no matter what, their loved one was okay. Like Thanatos, the one who gave him this mysterious connection to death, William’s energy was gentle like light ripples in the calm lake. He helped those that were dying accept their fate and face it feeling at ease, and provided a foundation for those left behind to feel comfort despite their grief. Death was no monster, he believed. It would never actively take lives for fun. Perhaps that was what drew him to Celine and Damien when they were children. Their family connection to witchcraft and communication with the dead (even if it was something neither twin touched on) was something that gave William a sense of familiarity, if one were to look beyond the surface. 

As a teenager, this interest in death stayed. He had asked around and had managed to secure an apprenticeship with a local undertaker when he finished school. He was a natural. His calm, methodical approach was grounding when those around him were hurting. His voice was always low and polite, and he even offered hugs to those who needed reassurance. The only thing that stopped him was the war. He hadn’t fully qualified, but he knew he needed to help his country and protect those he cared about. Though he was barely an adult, William enlisted and promised his friends that he would be the only one of the four to have direct involvement with the war.

When there, he was faced with more death than he had ever seen, and how it made his stomach turn. It was loud. Invasive. Impersonal. It drove him to work harder, do everything he could to keep the soldiers he fought with safe. He learned tactics, organised routines, found ways to help keep morale boosted, argued with superiors over their poor opinions in seeing troops as ‘disposable’. It was no surprise that he became one of the youngest Colonels in modern history. He showed wisdom beyond his ages, and a keen sense of observation. He could bring a sense of calm when his men were stressed with the constant reminders of death and pain, and some would later go on to write in diaries and memoirs how William was able to help badly injured soldiers embrace death and pass in a more peaceful state of mind than they might have otherwise. But with others, he would will them on, encourage them to fight and win, and they would.

One winter’s day, when there was an ‘up and over’ order given, William and his troops were keeping the enemies at bay and refusing to lose ground. Something caught his attention, or rather, someone. A man dressed in shining armour and wearing a helmet with a plume of red feathers raised a sword high into the air, which coincided with a sudden rise in violence and bloodthirsty behaviour from the soldiers. Only William seemed to be immune to this, instead briefly distracted by the unusual sight. The man in armour turned his head, and the pair locked eyes. Even with the distance between them, William could see the look of realisation on the stranger’s face before he disappeared into thin air.

In the weeks that followed, rumours began circulating of seeing a man walking along the barren wasteland between the warring trenches late at night. Those that claimed to see him described him as wearing a long black cloak that matched the large wings sprouting from his back. The man appeared to be searching for something, but didn’t seem to notice any onlookers. If the rumour was passed to others, they would discover a trail of red poppies in the area the cloaked figure was spotted, and sometimes a black feather would be found. Troops believed it was the Grim Reaper himself coming to inspect the damage when the dust settled, but William felt it was something more. Was he connected to the armoured soldier William saw? Not only that, the black feathers resembled the one that was woven into William’s necklace (but felt colder, somehow). Unfortunately, he never caught a glimpse of the supposed Grim Reaper.

---

The Colonel earned his reputation of becoming rather eccentric, and it was put under the simple explanation of “war”. But it was more than that. It was being surrounded by a type of death that was foreign to him. He was the unknowing son of the being associated with peaceful death. Despite his best efforts to keep some sort of calmness, the sheer chaos of it all was too much for him. The sudden, violent losses were heavy and weighed down on his heart. It was suffocating. He should have been able to do more. He should have been able to help them. He managed to get his men home with no one dying for the final six months of the war, but it wasn’t enough.

He tried to resume his apprenticeship after the war, but both he and the undertaker agreed he needed a break from death and to learn to appreciate life again. It was both a good and a bad solution. Good in that it helped him recover from whatever injuries - physical and emotional - he endured in his years away.

Bad in that it gave him too much time to think when he wasn’t in the barracks.

He grew up surrounded by death. Excluding the war, he had witnessed far more death than someone his age should have, when his fairly quiet and untroubled upbringing was taken into account. In a way, it almost followed him, or did he follow it? Was he cursed? Death brought about loss, and he had experienced a lot of that in his fairly short life.

All this only encouraged William to embrace the here and now. Life was short, why waste a moment of it? Life needed some madness, otherwise you would regret it when you found yourself lying on your deathbed. Beyond his childhood friends, he kept a distance from everyone else. If he was cursed with death because of the war, he would run the risk of someone dying because they got to know him.

Alcohol helped. For little periods of time, he was able to not think about whatever was plaguing him and enjoy life like he used to. But he had to be careful. William didn’t need to look far to see what a mess a man could become if he relied on alcohol as his only source of joy. No, that was eventually found in Celine… And we know how the story goes.

---

Mark died by William’s hand in a round of Russian Roulette, but the Colonel couldn’t find it in himself to care. The two who were once as close as brothers barely acknowledged the other without an argument breaking out. One of them would have died that night. There was regret in what was done, but William was never one to mourn openly like Damien did. Perhaps that was why they argued in the theatre. It had been years since they both knew someone who had died. Had Damien forgotten that William didn’t cry or openly mourn? Had William neglected to consider that a sudden death would shake the gentle mayor to his core? Words were snapped, and William made the decision to avoid Damien until it was all over.

As the day dragged on, William decided to join in on the ‘game’ that seemed to play out before him. Pulling the Mayor’s friend outside to give an indirect confession, firing his gun indoors to deliberately wind up the detective… Trusting Celine.

When Celine arrived, he didn’t know it would be the start of a chain reaction that resulted in him losing everything. Celine and Damien disappeared. No body, no sign of life. That was the first time since the war that he felt true heartbreak. He had promised to protect them both, and he failed. He didn’t care that the detective was shot, but the poor district attorney should never have been wrapped up in the mess. They never deserved such a horrid death.

It was why William was by their side all night. He spoke gently to them, hoping that they would be alright until he felt the pulse in their wrist die out and their hand freeze. They were the only truly innocent soul in all of this, even he knew that. But what could he do about it now? Everyone that stayed was dead, except for him. Once again, he was surrounded by death, and yet escaped. No matter what he did, the cold hand of the Grim Reaper never reached for him… Unless it was because he was hidden, cloaked under the protection of the black feather necklace. It held a feather found upon death. It might be hiding him from the death he might deserve. He unclipped it and carefully placed it around the attorney’s broken neck. Maybe it would give them guidance to a peaceful afterlife.

Imagine his horror when instead, they rose to their feet as morning broke.

This was no homo necrosis, nor the more intelligent variant homo sapien zombifius. They were alive, right before his eyes! They struggled to rise to their feet and looked around, confused as though they were merely hungover. Their head turned effortlessly to take in the surroundings. That neck was definitely injured, William had checked it! But as he watched, he found the attorney being someone he knew and a complete stranger at the same time, like their face didn’t entirely belong to them. He didn’t dwell on it. In panic, fear, desperation, William clung to the extreme idea that maybe, just maybe, Damien and Celine were still alive. He’d pretend it was a joke, he’d slap them on the back and congratulate them for giving him quite a fright and getting even after all the pranks he himself pulled over the years. Just let them be alive and okay!

No matter how hard he searched, no matter how loud he shouted, neither twin appeared, Never would they come out of hiding. But it was okay! William was okay! Let bygones be bygones. They could all still be friends. He’d forget about this elaborate death prank. 

...

It turned out that it wasn’t the only thing he forgot, but I’m sure you know about that already. This isn’t a story documenting the gradual descent to madness: the alias hopping, the loss of original identity; but rather one about death.

---

Perhaps now is a good time to reveal an important piece of information - death is represented by many beings, not just Thanatos. Many cultures depict an individual who bears the important task of guiding the living to an afterlife. These are all true, but there are more. In recent times, as the population globally has grown, so too has the demand. In America, where William grew up, there is what can be considered a ‘family’ of death. With guidance from Santa Muerte, younger figures from all walks of life with a common link with various aspects of death were found as humans and nurtured to allow their abilities to guide flourish in the Americas. It was only as they noticed a bottleneck of death in a city suburb in North America did they discover that they had a brother whose presence was so gentle, he slipped through the cracks. All it took was the discovery of a discarded necklace outside a derelict manor for Santa Muerte to recognise where the lost child of the family went, and which personification of death gave them their powers.

Thanatos was there within the hour. The moment the black feather necklace was placed in his hand, he could feel the comforting energy that was like his, but was so distinctly not. 

“His name was William,” Thanatos murmured, closing his eyes to let the energy tell him the story of the human who became a kin of death. “He was the personification of the acceptance of death. If war had not broken out earlier in the century, he would have lived a humble life as an undertaker who would bring comfort and calm to those dying.”

“ ‘Was’?” one of the younger deaths repeated in a whisper. Thanatos nodded.

“He died, in a way. Without guidance, the war made him think it was a curse that death followed him.” Some of the younger beings nodded in sympathy. They knew how it felt when they were alone. “Something happened and… he cracked. I need to go to him.”

The plan was simple. Thanatos would be accompanied by several younger entities, but only he would enter. The rest would reclaim the souls that were trapped inside. The facade of the building was a disco, but it could be a trap. If there was a bottleneck where souls of the deceased were unable to pass, it could only mean bad news. William could have turned into an angry, vengeful representation of death, using the souls to fuel his power and cause unknown chaos. For the safety of the humans living in the area, William needed to be dealt with, and his ‘father in death’ was the only one who might be able to calm him down. Thanatos took a slow breath to brace himself, let his wings briefly disappear, and entered the disco.

---

A hand shielded his eyes to allow them time to adjust to the brightness. Slowly, Thanatos lowered it as he examined his surroundings. There was no mania, no anger. It was precisely as it seemed to be - a disco. The mood was jovial as the crowds danced. They were completely lost in the music, and Thanatos had to wonder how long some of them had danced for. As he made his way through the crowd, he noticed a clock over the bar. It worked, but the minute hand never moved when the seconds hand completed its cycle. Were they caught in a solitary moment in time? It would explain how the dancers never stopped for a breather. The song reached the big finale and finished with a spectacle. Thanatos lifted a hand and waved it in the direction of the band. To his relief, the members exchanged looks and decided that yes, a break was needed. They put their instruments down and hopped off the stage. As they did, the dancers began to follow. Thanatos stepped back to try and find the one person who didn’t react to the mob mentality of walking out. Sure enough, he spotted William. In the far corner, he had been finishing a chat with a still-living man in a black leather jacket. Even from here, Thanatos could sense the death clinging on him. Unlike William, the other’s presence of death was latched on the man. He was a soul that was cursed with witnessing the deaths of loved ones over and over. What being decided to leave such a foul mark on that man or his family? It was not something Thanatos could help with, but maybe one of the younger beings might be able to help that poor, tormented soul.

The host of the party turned, blinking in confusion to see someone still there. He said something to the other man, who nodded and made his way out.

"Thought ya woulda gone outside with everyone else," he gestured to the entrance, hand holding a martini glass that wasn't there seconds earlier. Thanatos shook his head.

"I was actually hoping to talk to you. I found -"

"Y'know, I don't think I've seen ya before. New ta th' disco, eh? I'll never miss a chance ta talk ta someone new. Wilford Motherloving Warfstache, a pleasure ta meetcha!" A free hand was boldly offered to Thanatos. Confused, he shook it.

"Wait… Wilford? But I thought your name was -" Thanatos was interrupted again, this time by Wilford tutting and pressing a finger against the other's lips.

"Ya got talkin' ta that detective, yeah? He knows me by a lotta names. But I like Wilford the best." He took a sip from his glass, an act that was interrupted by Thanatos dangling the necklace in the air. "Where'd ya get that?"

"I found it on my way in. Does it belong to you?" Wilford nodded, only to shake his head. Then, after a moment, his face scrunched up in confusion.

"I… I wanna say I've never seen it, but I feel like I’ve been reunited with somethin' precious…" Slowly, Wilford reached out to take the necklace into his own hand. Thanatos noticed how recognition lit up Wilford's face the moment he touched it. 

"This is mine. Had it as long as I could remember. I think it was passed down ta me. Can't say fer sure, memories have been a bit funny fer me." His thumb gently brushed against the feather as his eyes lifted to the stranger. Something clicked, and he froze for several long seconds.

"This… this feather is yers, ain't it? Who are ya? What's going on?"

"I am Thanatos, one of the personifications of Death." A hand was placed on his chest to give a half-bow to Wilford. "And I believe you are one as well."

A silence fell on the pair. Wilford stared blankly at his drink, swirling it around for several seconds.

"Someone spiked my drink," he eventually grumbled, putting the glass on the stage. "I'm hearin' things. Death isn't real."

"It's as real as the necklace you hold."

"Ya don't understand. Of course ya don't. People don't stay dead. They get knocked out fer a while an' then they wake again." He raised the necklace to eye level, gears slowly turning in his foggy mind. "I've seen people die an' get right back up after a few hours. I've spoken ta people who oughta be dead. I've shot people, an' they come back ta find me, like Abe!" All the while, Thanatos was silent. It might have sounded like the ramblings of a madman to deny such a certainty exists, but every word was grounded with experience, with personal fact. "I'm sure yer tryin' ta be nice but… I don't believe in death. Not anymore."

"Then how did you know the feather was mine?"

"I can see yer wings."

"My wings are currently invisible to all but those who are Death."

"Bullshit."

"I've never been here before, so why did no one else stop to ask me about my wings?"

"Ya really think that's gonna bother anyone?"

"I was caught in the middle of a crowd packed together, and not one complained about wings being in the way." Thanatos rolled his shoulders, allowing the black wings spread to their full span before folding in neatly. "Even like this, they would be in the way of a crowd."

"But -"

"Wilford." Thanatos cut through whatever ramble Wilford attempted to start. "How long have you kept these people here for?" Wilford's eyes widened, before his head lowered in guilt.

"They were sufferin' with their problems an’ their struggles. I brought 'em in here so they could be happy. None of 'em deserved this." Wilford gestured around them. "It ain't much, but here, they can be happy, they can have fun. Nothin' hurts here. What's wrong with that?" Thanatos sighed at the innocent question, muttering something about 'another Dionysus' under his breath.

"You might not believe in death… but they do. We aren't supposed to play with lives like they are toys. We help guide them to their afterlife."

"Whoa whoa, time out fer a sec!" Wilford make a 'T' with his hands. "What's all this 'we' talk? I'm just a guy who runs a disco."

"Like I said, you're a personification of Death, just like I am. You've lost your way."

"I think I'd remember bein' some sorta skeletal guy with a scythe, thanks very much." A pause. "Do I have a scythe? That'd be cool ta swing an'-"

"You don't have a scythe. Your role is to help others find death -"

"Which I don't believe in."

"- to help them accept it. That's what you used to do. Do you remember wanting to be an undertaker?" The question hung in the air for several seconds, allowing Thanatos to realise that Wilford wasn't kidding when he said his memory was poor. "You're a good man, Wilford. Have you helped someone who might have been, say, confused lately?"

Wilford turned his head to the entrance. "Abe." One word, one name.

"And what was wrong?"

"He… he was lost in a moment. Hunting me for so long for something I did… He thinks he knows everything, but it fell apart the moment I asked questions that went just below the surface." Lost in thought, his accent sharpened to something more dignified. "No one can survive a bullet to the chest. But he did. But the others -" With wide eyes, Wilford looked back at Thanatos. "They're dead. All of them. I only wanted to help them be happy and have fun. That's not wrong, is it? Am I in trouble?"

"You're not in trouble. You didn't know. But now, they can be brought to the afterlife that suits their upbringing and beliefs - Wilford!" Thanatos hurried after Wilford, who had bolted to the entrance without warning.

-

"Abe!!" 

The cry echoed in the empty car lot. Wilford was alone. He slumped on the top step, pulling his knees to his chest like a child. Not even the cold hand of Thanatos stirred him.

"Abe… Was that the man you spoke to?" Thanatos asked. Wilford nodded into his knees. "I don't know where he is now, but he is still alive. Close your eyes and hold the necklace tight. Can you sense him?" There was a slight shuffle as Wilford followed the instructions. A noise that could have been a content sigh or a relieved sob escaped.

"He's okay…"

"He needs time to heal. I know your paths will cross again one day, but you can't stay here waiting for him. Let's bring you somewhere where you can get a warm drink and a change of clothes. What do you say?"

Wiford has always been one to go with the flow of whatever might be happening at the time. This wouldn't be any different. 

"So how does this work? Me bein' some sorta Death, but not believin' in death, an' even killin' some folks?" Thanatos gave a soft smile as he sat beside Wilford.

"Have you considered that you might be the side of death that gives the recently deceased extra time to process their own death before they are collected?"

"But can Death kill people?"

"No, no they shouldn't," Thanatos chuckled. “But we can work on that problem in time.”

A silence fell as the pair sat on the steps. There was a long road ahead of them. Thanatos knew that Wilford would never be ‘okay’, but Wilford wouldn’t be alone with this. Not anymore.

[untilmynextstory]

It’s not bad living in Charming. Nathan didn’t think it would be. It’s a little jarring being in his first home. The brick is welcoming and the interior is warm. It’s familiar. Despite his mom not stepping a foot here in years, it’s weird feeling her presence. It’s almost disappointing waking up in the morning and heading into the kitchen not seeing her or even Kaylee. His mind wonders how Ben would be as a child.

His dad is trying though. His dad makes it a point to have breakfast every morning. Sometimes, his grandma will take him to school, but his dad drops him off to Stockton. It sometimes feels like he hasn’t lived with him for an extended period of time. There are just the little things from how his sheets don’t smell the same as what his mom uses that makes the truth of his living situation known. Also, Nathan can admit his mom absolutely babied him. So he doesn’t expect his dad to wake him up with kisses or for the five minute hugs because his mom can’t let him go.  

He can tell Gemma loves him being back home. There is a weekly dinner at her house. She’s been spoiling him with new clothes, accessories, and the general hoovering.

Still even with the new friends and being back with his dad’s family, he misses his mother. He knew he was going to miss her, but he didn’t think it would be this bad. He calls her every night. They both give each other a run down of their days. He is thankful for technology that they can video call. At first, he would take the calls in his room. He is still uncertain about where his parents stand with each other.

He knows there is not any hate between them. Just a lot of hurt. His dad had been truthful about what happened between him and his mom. Nathan can admit. He does blame his dad a lot. He thinks when his dad told him the full truth he may have even said he hated him. He hurt his family.  If anything it made Nathan want to protect his mother even more. It’s why he kept the video calls for his room, but his mom had called him early one day and he happened to be in the kitchen with his dad. His mom was always excited about the littlest things. She had planted a butterfly garden and had been so excited to show him the butterflies. His dad had been making them something to eat and the next thing he knew his dad had his phone while he and his mom talked about whatever.

So now, a portion of his calls are taken over by them asking how each other were. It just makes him feel even more guilt that he is keeping his suspicions and concerns from his father.

Nathan is sitting on the couch. His body is tired from football practice and he really just wants to sleep. He is dozing off slightly as his mom sends him pictures of the nails she did today.

“Your mom said it’s alright for you to go to bed.”

Nathan jumps at the sound of his dad’s voice. He thought his dad was going to be gone all of Saturday.

“What?” Nathan asks, confused.

“She just texted saying you sent her a bunch of letters and you only do that when you are tired.”

Nathan furrows his brows and looks down at his phone and he sees the text that is just a bunch of random letters.

“You and Mom are texting?” Nathan inquires.

“About you.” His dad replies.

Nathan eyes his father. It’s weird looking in his dad’s eyes knowing he has the same ones. His mother always told him that he had his father’s eyes. He sees things the way his dad does. He doesn’t know if she was happy about that.

He knows his father isn’t a saint clearly. His mother is a married woman. He just knows that things are complicated. He is protective over his mother and his dad has hurt her before.

“How did you do it?” He asks his father.

“Do what?”

“Let Mom go.” Nathan remembers that day. The day his mom had made the decision to end things. His Dad didn’t fight for her, not really. He just let her go.

His dad sighs and joins him on the couch. His dad doesn’t say anything for a couple minutes. “Your mom’s happiness...it means more to me than me keeping her here. It means more than my own happiness. I can’t blame her for leaving. I pushed her to make that choice.”

“Why didn’t you fight harder?” Nathan asks.

“Nate...I probably would’ve pushed her further away. It’s -”

“Don’t say it’s complicated because it’s really not.” Nathan fires back. “You guys could’ve gone to marriage counseling. Mom missed you so much. Do you understand how hard those six months were?” Nathan asks his father. His mother was miserable. He knows she tried to hide it. She always put him before everything and left no room for her to grieve - to move on. “Mom just wanted you to make things right because you fucked up. Then she met Vitaly and that is just…” Nathan trails off. He clasps his mouth shut.

“What about the Russian?” His dad asks.

“It’s nothing.” Nathan shakes with a shake of his head. “Just whatever you two are doing. Just don’t hurt her again.” .. Nathan could care less about the homecoming dance, football, and even his date. All he cares about is that this is the second weekend his mom is coming down to visit him, but the first weekend she is going to stay for a bit. He has been counting down the days and he had been able to convince his mom to save money and just stay with him and his dad. He had been able to use some puppy eyes and begging and his mom caved. It wasn’t like Vitaly was going to know. The man couldn’t even be bothered with coming.

Nathan had woken up way early due to his excitement. His mom was coming in the morning on Friday although he would be in school when she would arrive. She was just staying for the weekend unfortunately. She would be leaving on Monday morning after he left for school.

He had been barely paying attention all day during school. He just wanted to see his mother. He rushed out of school not paying attention to what his friends were saying to him. He expected to see his dad or grandma, but he is pleasantly shocked to see his mom standing outside of her car. He runs over to his mom and wraps his arms around her and twirls her around.

She begs him to stop while laughing, but it is their thing since he has inherited his father’s height and his mom is such a tiny thing.

She giggles as he puts her down and gives her a real hug.

“I take it someone missed me.”

“I missed you so much, Mom.” He tells her and his body relaxes at her familiar scent of oranges that seems imprinted on her skin.

“I’m here now, baby. I missed you too.” She tells him.

. . . “When did you get in?” Nathan asks his mother when they make their way back to Charming.

“Around noon.”

“Was Dad there?”

Alma nods her head. “Yeah, despite me still having the key. I’m surprised the house is clean. Gemma cleaning up after you two?”

Nathan snorts. “No. Dad actually gave me a chore list. It’s how I make my allowance.”

Alma looks over at him in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, Mom. It sucks.”

She laughs. “Now you know how I felt when I had to clean up after you, Dad, and Kaylee. At least Kaylee would help.”

Nathan smiles at the mention of his sister. He has noticed as the years go by, grief has been kinder to his mom. She can mention Kaylee freely. She still struggles with Ben, but she isn’t scared to talk about things Kaylee used to do.

“It’s not weird being back in the house is it?” He asks hesitantly.

“There’s nothing but good memories in that house.” His mom assures him.

Nathan nods his head and believes her. “So tell me about the shop?”

His mom smiles and it takes over her whole face.  

. . .

“So Alma’s here?” Gemma asks her son.

She knows Nathan has been downright giddy about his mom visiting. Gemma has noticed her son has been more subdued and almost nervous. She also noticed since Nathan has made home in Charming her son doesn’t mess around with croweaters that much or at all.

“Yeah. She is picking up Nathan from school right now. So you need to be nice.”

“When am I not?” Gemma asks.

“Ma…” Jax warns.

“Is her husband coming down to visit?” That gets a reaction out of Jax as he clenches his jaw.

“No. It’s just Alma.”

“Staying at your place?”

Jax’s blue eyes pin down on her. “If you have something to say just say it, Ma.”

“She’s not your Old Lady anymore, Jax. You don’t need to get caught in between her and her marriage.” Gemma isn’t blind to the fact her son still wants Alma. She knows Alma still has her son wrapped around her fingers. She knows Alma would never do anything to take advantage of Jax’s feelings. It just worried Gemma with how the two of them could fall back into old habits. They don’t need to piss off any Russians.  

“No drama, Ma, for Nathan, please.”

“I promise.”

. . .

Jax isn’t surprised that Alma is the mom to have a custom made hoodie proudly displaying their son’s jersey number. In fact, Alma is a pro at tailgating and mingling with other parents of athletes. He notices that this is her element. He hurts a bit in his chest to think that she had given this up a bit with Nathan living with him. It hurts to think he missed out on Alma being the doting mom and cheering for her son.

It hurts even worse seeing all of the club here for Nathan’s game and how it feels so normal with Alma between all of them. It is as if the past five years haven’t happened. They are a family together and happy.

Alma did have to do some convincing for Nathan to enjoy a party after the game. It tugs at his heart to see his son so attached to his mother. He knows that mother and son have a profound bond that is greater than the bond between him and Nathan. Jax isn’t jealous, but it makes it more obvious that he had fucked up their family.

It’s even more evident how the guys are craving her attention now. She and Bobby had a very in depth discussion about baking. She had scolded Piney for being reckless with his health. Tig had already roped her into a game of pool.

His mom was even being genuine in her conversation about some of the nail designs she would like if Alma had time to do them.

It’s glimpses of simple things he pissed away by being an asshole.

And he knows he is playing with fire, as he somehow convinced her to let him take her out to eat.

“He is growing up so fast, Jax.” Alma laments as they sit in Lumpy’s diner.

“I know.” Jax agrees.

“He isn’t giving you any trouble is he?”

“You know he’s not. Boy is very self sufficient. Don’t know if it is because he is scared to ask me for anything though.” Jax admits. Sometimes, he can feel a distance between him and his son. Jax knows that at the end of the day there is probably some lingering resentment Nathan holds to him.

“Just give it some time. But I assure you, Nathan is adamant on doing things himself for the most part.”

Jax smiles. “It’s nice having him back through. I feel bad for taking him away from you though.”

“You didn’t take him away from me, Jax. Nathan does like being back home in Charming.Besides, you’ll get all those fun teenage years.”

Jax laughs. “Let’s hope he doesn’t repeat our decisions.”

“I don’t know he has been telling me he’s been talking to Tristen lately.”

“Oswald?”

Alma nods her head.

“Great. Exactly what we need.”

Alma giggles. “I think I would make a pretty hot grandma.”

“Al, please no,” Jax says as he covers his eyes.

Alma’s giggling is cut short when her phone goes off. Jax uncovers his eyes and he watches Alma’s mood dim a little. She begins to move out of her booth. “I’ll be back.”

Jax nods his head as he watches Alma walk away and out to the front. He keeps his eyes trained on her as she listens to the caller. She keeps her back to him. He can’t hear her, but there is a lot of head nodding and shaking her head. The phone call only lasts about 3 minutes. He watches as she looks at her phone before she slowly slides it back into her back pocket. He acts distracted by the plate of food their waitress slid in front of him.

He can tell the mood between them has shifted as Alma slides back into her seat.

“Sorry about that,” she says.

Jax shakes his head. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. just...um Vitaly.”

Jax nods his head. He eyes Alma, who is becoming distracted by her food. He wants to ask questions. He wants to press for more information. He just knows better than to question her now in public. He’ll act like everything is fine.

He slides over the extra ranch he requested from the waitress. “I got more ranch for your fries.”

“Thank you.”

. . .

Jax has just locked the front door to the house when he is hit with longing as he watches Alma hang up her purse and take off his shoes.

The once happy mood diminished after she came back from her phone call.

“You want a drink before bed?”

Alma turns to him with a raised eyebrow. She folds her arms across her chest. “Why don’t you ask me what you really want to ask me? I didn’t think you were the type to need liquid courage.”

Jax licks his lips and he leans against the wall. “The Russian didn’t want to come down?”

“No.”

Jax nods his head. “Busy with work...or?”

“Would you even want him here, Jax?” Alma replies.

“Doesn’t matter what I feel. If he has a good relationship with Nathan, I don’t want to be the cause of a rift.”

Alma shakes her head. “Everything is fine, Jax.”

“I never said they weren’t.” Jax replies.

Alma’s eyes widen slightly, but he watches as a blank mask slips into place. “I’m tired. I’m gonna go to bed.”

Jax doesn’t stop her. He watches as she walks down the hallway to the room that used to belong to their daughter. He moves away from the wall as he goes to the bar and gets himself a glass to pour him some whiskey.

He knows that if something is wrong in her marriage. He would be on the fine line considering Vitaly’s connection to the Russians. They rarely do business with them,but he is not looking to start trouble either. Then again, he doesn’t really care about being courteous if Alma is involved. Yet, maybe he is overreacting. Marriage isn’t always sunshine and rainbows. He knows that first hand.

He just doesn’t like that fact if Alma is in trouble, she feels she can't come to him for help.

. . .

Jax gave his son and Alma privacy while they said goodbye. He was rewarded with a hug for his goodbye and a few tips in things Nathan or the house would need. He had stepped aside and went into the house when he saw Nathan struggling to keep his composure.

It broke his heart to see his son like this. Yet, now, his son has been incredibly quiet since Alma left. Gone were the red eyes with tears, his son was clutching his phone tightly, biting his lip, and his leg was jumping up and down. Jax couldn’t ignore it.

“Your mom make it home, okay?” Jax asks despite already receiving a text from Alma she was home.

Nathan nods his head.

“So what’s going on? You’re about to chew through your bottom lip.” Jax points out.

“It’s nothing,” Nathan says dismissively as he runs his hands through his hair.

The good thing about his world crashing around him when he and Alma got divorced, Jax became more self aware. He had too. Also in having kids, he can see how his behavior is inherited or learned.

So he knows his son is lying to him. He knows that Nathan is keeping something close to his chest. Jax would force it out of his son, but he is trusting his son to come to him when he is ready. Jax knows that Nathan needs to come to terms with whatever is plaguing him on his own before reaching him. Jax has to wait for Nathan to trust him to handle the knowledge that Nathan has.

“If something was wrong with your mom, you can tell me. You know that right?”

Nathan turns his head and a sad smile takes over his features. “I know, Dad.”

. . . Alma is tired. Her body aches and she is running out of concealer. Vitaly isn’t being careful anymore. Thankfully, since she planned to go to Charming she didn’t book any appointments for the last two weeks of November. She had been able to focus on books and new designs. Yet, now with a possible concussion, having to pop her shoulder back in place, and a bruise that can even be seen on the inside of her lip, she can’t go to Charming. Nathan and of course Jax would notice everything. She is supposed to be leaving tomorrow. She feels bad for doing this last minute as Nathan had been going on and on about how the house was decorated.

They were going to be having two Thanksgiving as Nathan just wanted her and Jax to have dinner for themselves. The other Thanksgiving she had somehow got an invitation to Gemma’s. She has noticed that Gemma has been nicer to her since her trip to Charming. It almost feels like things were returning to how things before the divorce. Alma knows though Gemma is only being nice to appease the boys.

Alma leans back into her chair. She doesn’t want to break her son’s heart, but she knows she has too. These next two weeks are going to be torture. She knows she will have a lot to make up for when Christmas comes around.

With shaky hands, she calls her son. His answer is immediate.

“Hey, Ma,” he greets. She can tell he is smiling.

“Hey, baby,” she replies. Her voice is a bit hoarse. She hopes he can’t tell.

“Everything okay? You sound a bit sick?” She can hear some movement in the background.

“You at home?”

“Yeah, I’m laughing at Dad trying to clean the pool.”

“You’re not helping?”

“No, I know he is trying to trick me so he can push me in.”

“Sounds like your Dad.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t answer the questions, Mom.”

Alma closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “You’re going to be mad at me, baby.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“I’m not going to be able to come up for Thanksgiving.”

He doesn’t respond right away. All she can hear is his breathing. “Baby -”

“Why?”

“I’m not feeling good. I wouldn’t be any fun, but I’ll be there for Chri -”

Nathan interrupts her. “What did he do?”

“Nathan -”

“What did he do, Mom?”

“Nathan, I just can’t come okay. I’m sorry.” Alma can’t hold back the tears now. Her voice cracks. “I’m so sorry, baby, I’m a terrible -”

“Mom, don’t cry okay,” Nathan rushes out. “Please, don’t cry.” He begs. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not upset. It’ll be okay, Mom.”

“I’m so sorry, Nathan.”

“He should be, Mom.”

. . .

Nathan is scared. He is worried. He thinks he feels guilty. His dad had asked him if everything was okay with his mother and he lied. Now, his mom wasn’t able to come to Thanksgiving and she wasn’t answering her phone. She always answered. If she couldn’t answer, she would immediately send him a text she would call him back.

Something was wrong. He should’ve told his dad the truth. He immediately made some fib that something happened to her store. His dad and grandmother bought it. His mom even had the foresight to call his dad to reassure him everything was okay.

Yet, now, it’s been two days since Thanksgiving and he has not received a text or heard his mother’s voice. He is fucking scared. He knows better than to message Vitaly. That could only endanger his mother more. Nathan wipes a hand down his face and he is surprised to find tears. He didn’t even realize he had started crying.

He can’t keep quiet. The silence is only bringing on violence to his mother. He storms down the hallway to the garage where his father is at. A new hobby of his is restoring bikes that he will either sell or keep for a collection. His dad looks over at him briefly before he does a double take. No doubt noticing the tears.

His dad throws his tool down and begins wiping his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s about Mom. I’m so sorry, Dad,” Nathan cries out as his dad steps in front of him.

Jax grips his shoulders. “Is she hurt? What happened?”

“I should’ve told you from the start, Dad. I’m so sorry.” Nathan wails.

“Hey, calm down. Just tell me now. What’s going on?”

Nathan looks into his father’s eyes. He wipes at his tears. “Vitaly...he hurts Mom.” Nathan reveals. Finally letting the truth out. “I...I can’t get a hold of her. I think he hurt her bad this time. I’m sorry, Dad. I should’ve told you.”

Jax wraps his arms around him tightly. He embraces him in a tight hug. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. You told me now. I’ll handle it, okay.”

[ceescedasticity]

@tanoraqui regarding your AU idea:

Have some disconnected fragments!:

Jiang Yanli was very seriously injured, and very genuinely distraught, and people treating her like something breakable was not in any way new.

It took far too long to realize what was happening.

She asked them to reduce the pain medication they were giving her ahead of Jiang Cheng's next visit, so she could have a more coherent conversation with him. If anything they increased it, and she only dimly remembered an explanation that he was taking Jin Ling to see Lotus Pier.

She asked for perhaps some different robes than stark unornamented white — she had been widowed for over a year, now, and A-Ling was getting old enough she wanted to look less like a ghost when he saw her again. No different robes appeared.

She asked what options there were to get around, if as it seemed she would, at best, be unable to walk for a very long time. She was planning to perhaps steer things in the direction of 'Lotus Pier doesn't have nearly as many stairs'. But they brushed off the questions completely.

She asked for writing supplies so she could send her brother a letter. None were forthcoming.

Finally Jin Guangyao came in, and bowed most respectfully, and knelt by her couch to speak to her.

"Sect Leader Jiang will be visiting Koi Tower again soon," he said.

"There are some things you should understand before he does."

*

She was "mad with grief". Everyone knew this.

If anyone came to not know this, Jin Guangyao very carefully did not exactly say, things might not go well for her. Or for Jin Ling.

And yes, of course Sect Leader Jiang would react badly if his nephew or his sister died under Jin Sect's watch. One might say he would react… imprudently.

"You look terribly pale, Madam Jin. I've overtaxed you. I'm so sorry, I'll call your maid and your doctor immediately."

Fragment 2:

At first she wasn't expecting working on her cultivation to do more than fill up a few of the endless, endless hours. What does she care anyway, now, if she feels dizzy or has a few heart palpitations? No one is around to worry for her except her watcher-maids. Maybe it would give Jin Guangyao a scare.

But that didn't happen.

No dizziness, no shakiness, none of the worse symptoms that made even Madam Yu stop pushing her. Meditation isn't frightening anymore. She can work with her spiritual energy until exhaustion with a clear head and a steady pulse. If this keeps up for years… It's late for her to form a functional golden core, very late, but it's not out of the question.

Maybe the injury… knocked something loose, somehow.

Or maybe she should have tried cultivation while reclining with her feet up years ago.

She doesn't know whether she wants to laugh or cry.

She does neither, but keeps cultivating, month after month, year after year, closing her eyes and pretending she's dozing.

She doesn't know where her sword is now, and she never did much with it anyway, but it turns out with enough practice you can send spiritual energy into an embroidery needle.

Fragment 3:

Her company, little as it is, falls in three categories.

The first and largest is Jin Guangyao and his creatures. Her doctors. (Not the first doctor, she thinks — not the one who saved her life despite all expectations — but that woman died not even a year after Jiang Yanli was recovered enough to take any notice of doctors. The four since then have been, although surely not the most valued of tools or he wouldn't dispose of them so freely.) Her 'maids'. (And how she wishes she could trust the people she's forced to rely on to help her to the toilet.) Su Minshan.

Then there are the risks, those Jin Guangyao is concerned about and demands her cooperation in deceiving, whose visits he always monitors — her brother, mainly, and her son as a source of information to her brother. Madam Jin, until she died.

(She doesn't know which category Jin Guangshan would have fallen into, because he never appeared. She's not sorry to not have encountered him while helpless, and it makes no difference in the end, but she would have liked to know whether Jin Guangyao started this at his father's behest.)

And there are the ones he dismisses. Not on his side, but not threats.

This does not include the servants, for which she must give Jin Guangyao credit. Many men — and more than a few women, among them her mother and Madam Jin — would have made that mistake. No, any servant who spends more than a minute in Jiang Yanli's presence is working for Jin Guangyao first. (There is more overturn in staff than there was in Lotus Pier, before. She isn't sure whether things are just different in Lanling or if Jin Guangyao is disposing of them.)

It does include Nie Huaisang.

He sent her a painted fan 'to brighten her rooms' late in the first year when word got around that she was confined by 'illness'. It was not the only pity-gift she'd received in that period, and at the time it hadn't annoyed her any less than the others, but after she calmed down she did appreciate that it was painted only with aesthetically pleasing birds, without heavyhanded symbolism.

(If she's going to be cast as the hysterical madwoman anyway, she may as well throw a fit at anything… overly embellished with peonies. Keepsakes of Zixuan's may have peonies. Gifts from A-Ling may have peonies. Nothing else needs peonies.) (Lotuses are allowable, but she doesn't like getting those from absolutely everyone, either.)

He sent another fan a year or two later, a few months after his unexpected ascension to Sect Leader. —The gossip of the maids when the fan was delivered was in fact how she learned of Nie Mingue's death, as well as the general poor opinion of the new Sect Leader.

Not handling Chifeng-zun's death well, they tutted.

Not handling anything very well, they tittered.

Sect Leader Nie himself stumbles into her secluded courtyard a while after that, while Koi Tower is abuzz with Jin Guangyao's elevation to Chief Cultivator. Nie Huaisang flutters his fan and compliments the embroidery she is (supposedly) working on, and her maid isn't quite confident enough to try to chase out a Sect Leader, even one like this. Instead the maid stands by in increasingly thinly veiled annoyance as Nie Huaisang rambles on about his birds, and when Jiang Yanli suggests they could use some more tea she actually goes.

With the maid gone, she dares probe for more information about the outside world. "You're here for the ceremonies, then?"

"Well, yes, and," he ducks behind his fan, "also to ask San-ge's advice on a few things, I'm so over my head it's shameful, I really don't know what I'd do, he's such a help and support to me, it's almost hard to believe he killed my brother, I really rely on him."

His fan flutters, but his eyes eyes, watching her over the top of it, are rock-steady.

They shouldn't count on even a minute before the maid returns. Jiang Yanli wishes she could rise, could lean across the table and grab his hand. Her fingers twist in the embroidery instead. "Believe it," she says. "I'm sure he had something to do with his father's death, maybe Madam Jin's too, and he's threatened A-Ling, and I'm just here to keep my brother on a leash, and— You should believe it."

(That and was Qiongqi Path, and oh, she wants to include that — wants to say the architect of her imprisonment was also the author of her worst suffering. Wants to say he set up my husband to be killed by my brother. But he might not have meant to. He might have sent Jin Zixuan there simply to undercut Jin Zixun — to stop Jin Zixun, even. She will not condemn a man for things he didn't do. Just for how ruthlessly he exploited the opportunities they gave him.)

Nie Huaisang closes his eyes for a moment. "Thank you, Madam Jiang."

And then the maid is back and they can't say anything else of substance.

But she's been seen. Someone knows that if she's mad it's not from grief.

And while she can't have any kind of honest, meaningful correspondence, no one seems to care if she and Nie Huaisang exchange art. Just harmless amusements for two weak, grieving, helpless people.

(They are, slowly, working towards some degree of coded communication, but not having been able to discuss a key ever is making it very slow to start.)

...aaaaaaaaaaand I should really get back to my preexisting writing commitments but I am pretty sure by the time Wei Wuxian crashes in the door she’s ready to escort them out with a swarm of spiritual-power-infused embroidery needles. and probably she’s suborned Qin Su at some point.

[cakesunflower]

Liability [Peaky Blinders!Calum AU] Part 1

Liability—A person or thing whose presence or behavior is likely to put one at a disadvantage.

Summary: Being the daughter of the Police Captain meant Karina Garner should’ve kept her distance from Calum Hood, the notorious leader of the Peaky Blinders. It certainly didn’t mean she should agree to work for him, especially when Calum had underlying motives up his sleeves.

A/N: this is part 1 of my Calum AU that’s based around the tv show Peaky Blinders! if you haven’t watched it, it’s basically a show about a gang in 1920′s Birmingham led by the ever-so-fearsome Tommy Shelby--who, in this fic, is replaced by Calum, obviously. 

it’s important for y’all to remember this fic is based in the early to mid 1920′s, so some dialogue or exposition or plot points might seem a bit strange or different than what you’re used to reading from me but remember--this is a different time period! keep that in mind, and happy reading!!

Liability—A person or thing whose presence or behavior is likely to put one at a disadvantage. 

Part 1

Waking up in her childhood bedroom had been disorienting, not entirely remembering what she was doing there. But then the exhaustion she’d fallen asleep in caught up and Karina remembered her long journey back to Birmingham. She recalled the reason why she moved back and let out a tired, defeated sigh. Her return to her hometown wasn’t under the happiest of circumstances, but she wasn’t as heartbroken as one would expect. She was a grieving friend, maybe, but nowhere near a grieving widow. Never had Karina wanted to become someone who married just for the sake of being married, but that’s how life turned out, that’s what was expected from them. Archie, a wealthy investment banker from New York, had taken an interest in her; her family had approved, and that was that. Honestly if Karina truly hadn’t wanted to marry him, she could’ve protested and her parents would’ve listened. But Archie had been nice enough, handsome and rich and a way out of Birmingham.

Until none of that was worth it. Until he was gone.

Too many mistresses and refusing to let her work were suffered through for two years too long. When she didn’t want to give him a child when he was ready, things had taken a turn for the worse for their already deteriorating marriage, a mismatch made in hell with a constantly fueled fire. Then Archie fell sick, like he was dying from the inside, until he took his last breath, giving Karina a way out of an unhappy marriage and the money he left behind for her.

A bit tactless for her to think, and even a bit cruel, but he’d spent nearly their entire marriage treating her less than she—or anyone—deserved and Karina was not about to spend her time grieving over a man who viewed her as property to be invested in.  

“Morning, love,” her mother greeted as she entered the kitchen, robe tied around her as she joined her dad and brother at the table. “Egg and toast?”

Karina sleepily hummed her agreement before pouring herself some tea. “How did you sleep?” her father asked, already dressed in his captain’s uniform, finishing off toast lathered in jam.

“Brilliant,” Karina answered truthfully, recalling how her eyes shut the second her head hit the pillow. Looking at Sean, she asked, “Don’t you have work?”

Her twenty-one year old brother scrunched his face in annoyance. “I’ll go when I’m bloody done eatin’,” he spoke through a mouthful of eggs, prompting Karina to twist her own expression in disgust. Once he swallowed the bite, he said, “Everyone wants to go out for drinks tonight to welcome you back.”

Karina lowered the cup after swallowing her of tea, a wry smile on her lips. “You mean to drown me in alcohol so I’m not too heartbroken over Archie’s death and the fact that I’m a widow.”

Her mum clicked her tongue, placing Karina’s breakfast in front of her. “His passing is sad—you can pretend to be grieving. Plus, you’re twenty-four, love. You’ll find someone who truly deserves you. He’s out there, by God’s grace,” she added, her slight rough Irish accent something Karina missed.

But she shrugged, almost sadly at the loss of Archie and the thought of her marriage coming apart so quickly before his death, despite being glad not being stuck in something that didn’t make her happy. She wasn’t heartless; she spent two years of her life with that man, and while most of them weren’t happy moments, he’d still been a constant in her life. For all his faults, he didn’t deserve to die, but Karina wasn’t going to pretend she’d lost the love of her life, when she definitely had not. Still—no doubt her mum’s friends would talk, and while Karina liked to think she didn’t care what people said about her, she could only pretend so much.

Her dad cleared his throat before pointing at her. “Listen to your mum. We’ll shift your things to the flat tomorrow. I best be off.”

Karina looked at him with jade colored eyes, raising her eyebrows. She was staying at her family home just upon her arrival, but Karina had a flat that was a fifteen minute walk from the home that she was ready to move into. She’d lived in it for a year before her marriage, almost as a way of preparing herself for independence despite her family being so close. It was unfortunate she barely got a taste of it when she moved to America and was told to only adhere to Archie’s demands. “You’re leaving already?”

The police captain scoffed, picking up his hat. “Crime never rests—especially if it’s the Peaky Blinders.”

He left a few moments later, the front door slamming sounding his exit, and Karina looked at her mum and Sean and frowned. “The Blinders still give him trouble?”

Mrs. Garner sat to Karina’s right, letting out a breath as she prepared her tea. “Honestly, I think it’s the other bloody way around most of the time.” A disapproving expression matched her tone. “Likes to press on them when they’re not even outwardly doin’ anything.”

Sean scoffed as Karina listened with interest. “He’s lucky Calum Hood doesn’t condone killin’ coppers or else Dad would be dead ten times over by now. The Blinders are dangerous as ever and fucking terrifying but they protect us just as much as the coppers. Dad just doesn’t like sharing the glory.”

Their mum clicked her tongue. “Sean.”

Karina let out a breath, raising her eyebrows at her little brother. “You sound like a fan,” she pointed out, to which he only shrugged, and Karina found her thoughts suddenly consisting of the Peaky Blinders.

More importantly, Calum Hood—a name she knew and a face she hadn’t seen in a few years. He was the leader of the Peaky Blinders, founding the gang after returning from the war, and expanding their business and notoriety within a matter of months. A household name, not one to ever be fucked with unless someone wanted their eyes or tongues cut. They weren’t quiet about their dealings, were proud of their work, and had the entire town’s fear and respect in the palms of their hands—especially Calum. Always walked around as people moved out of his way, with the razor blade glinting in his cap, cigarette between his lips, and ring clad fingers ready to throw punches if need be.

The town also had the Blinders’ promised protection, which made work for the coppers harder, since no one would dare go against the Calum Hood and the Blinders. No one wanted to bite the hand that was feeding them.

Karina knew of Calum; had gone to school with him when they were children until he dropped out later in the years to help his family, and then she’d only see him around town. Then he had left for the war, and just a little while after his return as a war hero, Karina left for America. She knew the Peaky Blinders started around the time she had left, but her family never mentioned him in any of their letters—why would they?—and Karina never really thought about the dark haired man who was, more or less, making her father’s life a hell.  

She wasn’t going to lie; she’d definitely felt a shiver creep down her back when her brother so airily mentioned her father escaping death just because Calum Hood said so. It made her wonder just how powerful her old school mate had gotten over the years. How the mere mention of his name made most men she knew quiver in their shoes and run the other way. How the quiet boy with the full cheeks she used to see in the classroom had grown to be an illegal activities dealing, killer gangster. It all sounded almost surreal, but Karina guessed there was a fine line between delirium and reality.

After breakfast and drawing a bath, she changed into a simple outfit of a white button down blouse tucked into a long maroon skirt before spending the day with her mother. They had lunch, ran some errands, and then Karina joined her mum and her friends for some late afternoon tea.

“So, you poor thing, what are you going to do now?”

Karina pursed her lips as she swallowed her sip of tea, forcing the smile to remain on her face. She may love her mum, but Karina should learn to say no to tea with her friends. The old birds always had something to say, and now that Karina was back after losing a husband, she wasn’t surprised they wanted to gossip about her, clearly having no respect for the loss of a life.

“You don’t have to poor thing me,” Karina assured with a sweet smile, light brown hair framing her pretty face. “I’m perfectly alright. Might find me-self a job.”

“Karina’s very fast with numbers,” her mum piped in with a proud smile. “She can land a job at one of the banks.”

Karina smiled, grateful for her mum’s support. She knew her mum felt guilty for what happened, for even letting her daughter marry a man who made her live a life less happy than what she deserved, even though Karina had agreed to the marriage in the first place. She didn’t blame her parents; it was life. Sometimes it was shit, and though her husband might be dead and she mourned the loss of a life, she didn’t mourn the loss of a husband—no matter how much of a bitch that may make her sound.

“A job?” one of the women, Mrs. Nelson, guffawed. “You should find another husband, not a job.” She laughed, looking to the other laugh women. “The only work a woman should be doin’ is housework and raisin’ kids.”

The other women chuckled and murmured in agreement and Karina exchanged a flat, unimpressed look at her mother. She wasn’t all too surprised at the women’s way of thinking; they were all housewives, did nothing but cook and clean and raise their children. Not that there was anything wrong with that—Karina just didn’t want only that to be all she did in life. She wanted a little more, something less mundane. Something that gave her a purpose.

Honestly, Karina wasn’t sure how she survived the day with her mum’s friends, the women doing nothing but boasting about their children and grandchildren. The amount of cigarette breaks Karina took weren’t enough to keep her sane.

But then the night fell and it was time to head out for drinks with her friends. Karina put on one of her finer dresses, ruby in color and flattering, and she was looking forward to seeing everyone. It wasn’t until they were approaching the familiar pub that Karina shot her brother a look. “Should we even be here?” she questioned suspiciously. “If we don’t die in there then dad will surely kill us.”

Sean snickered, tossing the cigarette butt as the gravel crunched beneath their feet, the iron and coal scent of the factories around them digging into Karina’s nose as they approached the Garrison. “Sheffer’s is closed for renovation—Garrison’s the nearest pub, Karina. Besides, nothin’s gonna happen to us. Been here loads of times,” Sean reassured, holding the door open for Karina as she almost reluctantly walked in, following the few friends they were with, eyes flickering about to take in her surroundings almost cautiously.

Karina was hesitant upon entering the bar, knowing that it was the one owned by the Peaky Blinders themselves, buying it out after the gang gained their rightful notoriety. It’s where their men spent their time when they weren’t working, along with the factory laborers, and Karina knew from her brother that this was where Calum Hood often was as well, if he wasn’t out conducting Blinder business. Karina couldn’t help but think it was a risk coming here, being the daughter of the police captain, but she trusted her brother. If he said they’d be fine, she would believe it until they weren’t.

It looked newer than she remembered; a shining gold theme lining the walls and bar tops, circular tables in the middle with high red cushioned stools while booths lined up the walls as well, matching cushioned seats for those as well. The warmth in the pub was a pleasant welcome in exchange of the cold night of Birmingham outside, the air heavy with the familiar and ever present scent of tobacco, a deep breath escaping Karina at the loudness she was suddenly surrounded by. Men and women busied up the pub, and the live band playing upbeat music on a higher up platform on the back left of the room was a nice surprise to Karina. Last time she remembered, the Garrison wasn’t nearly as done up as it was now. The Blinders—Calum—had truly put in the work for a makeover.

The Garrison had never been much to look at, but things had obviously changed upon the Blinders’ acquiring of it.  

Karina admired her surroundings, briefly oblivious to the few stares she—not the people she was with—was receiving upon her arrival. One of the first things she noticed was how the pub consisted of both men and women, when at a time, it was only the men who worked in the factories that would drop a few pounds at the Garrison. Though now, the patrons look almost as classy as the pub. But as her gaze happened to wash over a few of the customers, Karina noticed the stares. Noticed the few double takes and curious looks that were suddenly accompanied by whispered conversations, menacing over the music playing. No doubt they were all privy to the reason of her return to Small Heath, maybe they were even questioning why the daughter of the police captain was in a known Peaky Blinders establishment, even if she was with her brother who apparently frequented this place.

Though, he was a man. Double standards often ran high in a town as small as the name it was given.

Neck tensing, Karina tried to ignore the looks, instead following her company to an open table while Sean and Joseph went to the bar to get drinks. Karina hopped on a stool, the soft material of her dress flowing against her legs as she pulled out her pack of cigarettes and a lighter. The first inhale managed to relax her, hoping those staring would realize there wasn’t much to look at and go back to minding their own business. Honestly, Karina didn’t care much if they talked—that’s all what people liked to do—but it was the staring. It prickled at her skin, as if their gazes drove needles into her nerves and paralyzed her, forced her to notice every single look she was receiving.

“Pay no attention to them.” Karina blew out a delicate puff of smoke at her best friend Joyce’s words. The brunette shook a curly lock of hair from her face, fingers gripping her own cigarette as she kept her gaze on Karina. “Just focus on enjoying the night, hmm?”

Karina raised an eyebrow, chuckling wryly under the sound of her friends chattering, noticing Sean and Joseph returning with the drinks. “You mean enjoy the night commemorating the loss of my husband?”

It was awful and heartless, Karina knew, to be doing this. She only justified it by claiming that she wasn’t celebrating Archie’s death. She was just grateful to be out of a relationship that lacked any ounce of love and respect. No harm in celebrating that, was there?

Joyce rolled her eyes, tapping the cigarette over the ashtray on the center of the table. There was a hint of a red circle lining her cigarette where her lipstick touched, Karina’s cigarette the same. “I mean enjoy the night commemorating your escape from an unfit marriage,” Joyce corrected, practically reading Karina’s thoughts.

The shot glasses were filled to the brim, and the smile on Karina’s face was genuine and easy as she and her friends lifted their glasses, clinked them together to cheers and even spilled some onto the table, before drinking their glasses dry. The vodka burned Karina’s throat gloriously, lips upturned and eyes screwing shut briefly as the drink sizzled down and settled in the pit of her stomach.

She enjoyed the company of her friends—friends she hadn’t seen in too long and had been left to only writing to them—with their two tables being littered with glasses and ashtrays filling up with the cigarettes being smoked. For the first time in a while, Karina genuinely enjoyed the people she was with, never having gotten used to being around Archie’s American friends who swam in money and childishly poked fun at her accent when they’d had too many illegal drinks in the safety of their homes. Her life in America, though one with money, had been unfulfilling. Archie’s death, though it was sad, offered Karina the opportunity to go back to her old life in Birmingham with the people she knew—and with Archie’s money as his widow.

Still, Karina recalled her conversation with her mother and her friends earlier that day; she may have Archie’s money, but she also wanted a purpose. Sitting around at home with nothing to do sounded just as mind-numbing as attending one of Archie’s friends’ dinners. Some kind of excitement in her life may do Karina some good—though finding it in Small Heath, that seemed like asking for a favor too big for the small town to deliver.

Eventually, Karina excused herself from her friends and wandered towards the bar, ignoring the few eyes that still lingered on her as she went. She paid for her drink, pausing at the bar to take a sip before she made a move to go back to her friends. She sipped, eyeing the various bottles sat on the shelves, remembering how the only way she’d been able to have a taste of alcohol in America was through private events where Archie and his friends somehow got their hands on alcohol that was banned across the country, the Prohibition Act that weighed upon the citizens having a tight grip on all alcohol.

So Karina savored her drink, allowing herself to lean her hip against the bar as she enjoyed it, only to regret the decision when a man taller and older than her, probably mid-thirties, came to stand to her right at the bar. He faced her, and Karina hated that she could actually feel his eyes drink in the sight of her, his stare unwarranted and unwelcome. Whatever was about to happen in the next few minutes, she was sure to not like.

“A lovely lady like yourself shouldn’t be drinking alone. Especially here, being the Police Captain’s daughter and all.” Karina tried not to roll her eyes at the man’s words, though she failed to ignore the way her skin crawled under his prickling gaze. Honestly, one would think being the captain’s only daughter would keep unwanted eyes away from her, and most of the time it worked. However, there were always the few courageous lads that tried their hand in hoping to impress her, especially at pubs, especially when they were older than her. They failed more often than not.

Karina put down her glass, the whiskey running smoothly down her throat as she raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the nameless stranger. If he knew who her father was, then he surely had to know of her only recent single status; did he truly believe Karina was wholly willing to entertain some random man at a pub after the death of her husband? Not that she was a grieving widow or anything—no more so than she pretended she had to be so she didn’t appear completely heartless. A tricky slope to live on, but Karina had never entirely been one to care much for what others thought, even in her compact community of Small Heath.

“But I’m not alone,” she responded innocently, offering a close mouthed smile as she rested her hip against the bar, raising an eyebrow at the man. “My friends and brother are right there. So your charming company isn’t required.”

The mocking sarcasm in her tone was quite heavy and Karina watched as irritation flashed across the man’s gray colored eyes, apparently not appreciative of her mild dig at him. He straightened to his full height, not the tallest man she’d seen but easily towering over her, as his expression tightened. Karina wasn’t entirely intimidated, not with her friends just a few tables away. Still, she didn’t appreciate trying to be scared into some type of submission. It was exhausting being a woman having to live in a man’s world.

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you, haven’t ya?” he sneered, eyes narrowing down at her, body shifting as a way of trying to step into her personal space. Karina’s teeth clenched. “Just ’cause your dad’s the captain doesn’t mean shit around here, sweetheart.”

For a betraying moment, Karina wondered if her father’s position in the police force meant anything at all.

Just as that thought fluttered across her mind, Karina heard the soft thudding sound of the pub doors opening over the music playing and people chattering, and instantly any sign of irritation wiped from her face at the sight of the man entering the Garrison. The man in front of her held no importance anymore—not that he ever did in the first place—as a familiar face entered the bar with all of the casual confidence in the world, instantly drawing the attention of everyone inside upon the opening of the doors.

Calum Hood walked in, his three piece dark grey suit pristine and crisp with a silver vest chain glinting in the light, a cigarette hanging from his plump lips while a cap that matched his suit rested atop dark curls. Ring clad fingers reached up to grasp the cigarette, dark eyes intuitively scanning the faces crowding his pub as a cloud of smoke curled out of his mouth, and Karina had to force herself to look away, not wanting to be caught staring for too long, and refocus her attention on finishing her drink as he walked further into the bar.

She downed the rest of her alcohol, setting the glass down as she vaguely heard the patrons going out of their way to greet Calum—an overenthusiastic “Evenin’, Mr. Hood!” here and a nervous “How are you, Mr. Hood?” there—not wanting to at all appear as if they were ignoring him, which was only a small hint to display the power he held. As Karina shifted to go back to her table, she quite honestly hadn’t realized she had completely forgotten about the man that had been attempting to chat her up until she began to turn away and was stopped by his hand grasping her wrist.

Karina stopped, blinking her widened eyes before following the hand up the length of the arm until she looked at the man holding her with an incredulous and slightly annoyed expression. “Didn’t your copper father tell you it’s rude to walk away from someone tryin’ to have a conversation with ya?”

Her jaw tightened, teeth grinding together as she stared at this man, older than her and relentless. Sometimes she truly wondered if the male species was even born with basic manners etiquette. Damn neanderthals. “He taught me how to deliver a punch if need be,” Karina responded, hoping to keep her voice calm despite the warning tilt that crept in as she spoke through gritted teeth.

The man laughed, as if what she had said was comical, only serving to quickly irritate Karina as her jaw tightened even more. He looked down at her, the jeering evident in his eyes as he raised doubtful eyebrows, the amused grin wide on his face, clearly taking her and her threat as joke as he taunted, “Oh, you’re gonna punch me, are ya?”

“There’ll be nothin’ of the sort.”

The sound of the new voice, raspy and deep with a lazy, almost uncaring drawl, had the man’s face blanching, Karina couldn’t help but notice. The color drained from his face as he straightened immediately, hand releasing Karina’s wrist, which she instantly pulled towards herself before looking to her right. It was then did she realize why the guy in front of her seemed to appear as though he’d been visited by a ghost.

“Mr. Hood, h—good evening.” Karina would’ve found it comical, how the stranger suddenly transformed into a bumbling idiot in front of a man who was obviously younger than him, if she wasn’t too busy staring at the newcomer in her own haze of wonder. She hadn’t seen him in years, but even with Calum Hood merely standing next to her, Karina could see why every soul in their town and beyond was absolutely terrified of him.

She couldn’t quite understand it, how someone had the power to appear so intimidating when they were doing nothing but standing there. Calum stood with the cigarette hanging between his lips, a thin stream of smoke curling from the end of it, with hands buried in the pockets of his expensive coat. The expression on his face, with dark eyes glued to the man, just appeared as though Calum had much better things to do then interfere in this conversation, and Karina knew that he most likely did—but stepping in had been done out of his own volition. And it confused her, making her unable to look away from him and put an end to her surprised yet puzzled expression she watched him with. Briefly, she wondered if everyone else in the pub was looking at them, or if the heat in her body was due to her previous irritation or with the newfound company she was in the presence of.

Calum Hood didn’t spare her a look yet, tilting his head up ever so slightly to look at the man from under the tip of his tweed flat cap. “It will be, once you walk away from Miss Garner,” he returned, the cigarette perfectly held between his lips as he spoke. His tone held no sort of emotion, though the command was somehow still clear as day in his calm voice. It was enough to have Karina’s heart jumping—along with his mention of her. He remembered her. She tracked the way his left hand pulled out of the pocket, fingers grasping the cigarette as the rings he wore glinted against the lights, using it to gesture towards the doorway as he added in finality, “Out, Stuart.”

The man—Stuart—didn’t even pause to argue. Karina watched in skeptic surprise as he gave a nod to Calum, not wanting to spare a moment that could ever possibly look like he was disobeying Calum’s order, barely looking her way as he picked up his hat and shuffled out of the bar, the doors swinging shut behind him. Karina’s gaze had been on him, watching him go, her view obstructed only briefly when Calum moved in front of her to take Stuart’s place.

She barely had a moment to comprehend what had happened when Calum spoke up again. “Leave it to Captain Garner’s daughter to try’n’pick a fight in my pub.” Karina straightened, throat working as Calum leaned his elbow against the bar top, body facing her as she watched him take off his cap. His curls sat perfectly atop his head but that didn’t stop Calum from running his fingers through them once he dropped his cap, the razors sewn into the peak clattering lightly. Stubbing out his cigarette in the glass ashtray on the bar, Calum quirked a lazy eyebrow at Karina. “Does your father know you’re here?”

His dark eyes were hypnotizing as he gazed at her, familiar but not, and Karina had to swiftly snap herself out of whatever trance she had found herself in to answer in a voice she hoped remained indifferent, “My father doesn’t dictate where I go, Mr. Hood. I am my own woman.”

He watched her intently, his gaze far too penetrating for her liking, her stomach turning under his stare along with the pointed Mr. Hood that had slipped from her tongue. Karina tried not to bristle, completely at a loss for what he may be thinking, his expression never giving anything away. She remembered, vaguely, how much of a smiling child he had been; how the fullness of his cheeks rosied whenever he grinned, and while some of that same roundness was still present, it was now accompanied by a stubbly jawline sharp and strong. A small inkling to how much he’d grown.

“A woman who’s apparently grieving,” Calum responded. He spoke in such a lazy, unrushed drawl, like he had all the time in the world and whoever he was speaking to had no choice but to wait for him to finish. Something told Karina that’s exactly how the world in their corner of Small Heath worked; it belonged to Calum Hood, and everyone else was just living in it. He lifted his chin, eyes still on hers, expression void of emotion even as he stated, “Sorry for your loss.”

Karina held back the snort. She doubted he was, doubted there was even a cell in his body that cared. Karina knew she should stop the conversation from flowing right there, should probably excuse herself politely and go back to her table with her friends and brother instead of lingering by the most dangerous man in Birmingham. Standing next to him alone was enough to rattle her bones. Still, her lips pressed together as they quirked up, nail tapping against the rim of her empty glass as she said, “Nothing a good drink can’t help with.”

She saw the subtle quirk of the corner of his lips, so brief that she would’ve missed it had it not been for the fact that she was looking at him, as Calum dragged his eyes towards the bartender and said, “Two whiskeys, Lewis.”

“Scotch or Irish, Mr. Hood?” the bartender asked promptly as Karina eyed him. He looked ready to answer to Calum’s every beck and call.

“Irish,” Calum told him, not bothering to consult with Karina as Lewis instantly went to pour out the drink. His dark eyes met her green ones as he mused, “Should be good enough to mend your broken heart.”

Karina bit the inside of her cheek, giving a tilt of her chin in the form of a subtle head shake as she gathered enough confidence to return smoothly, “Can’t heal what’s not broken.”

Her response, she could tell, intrigued the leader of the Blinders, one eyebrow quirking ever so slightly. Lewis placed their glasses down, but Calum’s eyes remained on Karina as he spoke in his drawling tone, carried over the music still playing throughout the pub, “Marriage didn’t agree with you?”

Was she seriously standing in the middle of the Garrison discussing her marriage with Calum Hood? Karina really would be needing that glass of Irish whiskey to get herself through this. She wondered, briefly, if her brother and friends had noticed just who exactly was in her company; wondered if they were purposefully staying away because it was Calum Hood or because they genuinely had no idea. Either way, Karina couldn’t bring herself to even look away from Calum, despite wanting to. Just gazing at him seemed like a bad idea; like he would suck her into his world and leave her to drown in it.

“My husband didn’t,” she corrected Calum, fingers itching to reach for her glass. He hadn’t reached for his. Karina took a breath, hoping the music would cover up the shuddering sound. “But I’m not one to speak ill of the dead.”

That, she saw, invited an amused smirk to tilt at Calum’s lips, the first true sign of some kind of emotion. Karina tracked the way his lips curled, a boyish expression that was coated with a kind of wickedness that had a shiver running down the length of her spine. It was then that Calum reached for both glasses, rings clinking against the glasses as he handed her one of them, which Karina hesitantly took. Couldn’t exactly turn a drink from Calum Hood away—Karina quickly and almost horrifically realized, in that moment, that she didn’t want to anyway. Just like she didn’t care for the few stares she knew were lingering on the two of them.

“So if the man was the problem and not the concept of marriage itself, I suppose you’re lookin’ for prospective suitors?” Calum hummed, turning his body so his back was against the bar, elbows rested on top as his hand held the glass after he took a sip. His body faced the expanse of his pub, filled with guests, but his head was turned towards Karina.

She felt her heart unnecessarily jump at his question, mind running with asinine possibilities as to why he would ask that of her. Honestly, Karina was still trying to accept the fact that she was having a conversation about marriage—her marriage—with Calum. Surely the leader of the most notorious gang had better things to do than to stand around conversing with a girl he once knew from his childhood about her marital status.

Karina’s throat was dry, both of her hands wrapped around the glass, hip against the bar as she gave a shake of her head. “I’m afraid you’d be wrong.” She noted the quirk of his eyebrow at her as he took a sip of her drink, silently prodding her to explain herself, and Karina pressed her teeth together at the condescending gesture. Was she some kind of pet who would know exactly what to do at the silent command of her owner? It heated her, but Karina wasn’t in the mood for pissing off Calum tonight. So she took a breath and found herself explaining, “I’ve come to understand that I would rather be working then getting married again. For now, at least.”

She waited for him to laugh, throat tight, just like her mother’s friends had when she told them the same thing—though Karina knew if she heard Calum Hood laugh, it would be so shocking that it’d feel like a slap in the face. But instead Calum was silent for a few agonizing seconds, the quiet only filled by the music and other patrons enjoying themselves, until Calum narrowed his dark eyes ever so slightly and pursed his lips before asking, “Are you a whore, Miss Garner?”

It was a good thing Karina hadn’t been sipping at her drink, because Calum’s question would’ve had her choking on it as she gaped at him in indignant surprise. He inquired about it so casually, as if it wasn’t an insult to her to suggest that the only work she was capable of doing was to service men through the likes of her body. If that’s the path some women chose to take, then more power to them, but Karina didn’t see that in her future any time soon.

It unnerved her, how she didn’t see any contempt or taunting in Calum’s eyes when he asked that of her, just curiosity as he stared at her expectantly. Karina wasn’t sure if the question itself was insulting, or the fact that Calum likely genuinely thought that the kind of work Karina was interested in doing was selling her body to whoever paid for it.

Her skin flushed, the tendons in her neck tensing briefly, forcing herself not to let the edge slip into her tone when she spoke up, already growing tired of having to control herself from slipping up in front of Calum at the risk of getting cut. “I’d rather get paid for my efficiency in typing and dealing with numbers than my body, Mr. Hood,” she told him, the hint of disdain at his insinuation involuntarily creeping into her voice. She couldn’t help it, she felt insulted.

At that, something flickered in the dark of Calum’s eyes, watching her intently in thoughtful silence as the pub buzzed around them. Karina was quickly realizing she was beginning to hate being unable to tell what Calum was thinking, particularly when he was watching her in such a way that had her nerves standing up on their ends and heart feeling as though something was forcing it to sink. He looked like he was thinking over something, maybe, and Karina was forced to stand in his silence, busying herself with her drink and wondering what exactly was running through Calum Hood’s wicked mind.

He surprised her by asking, “Your father’s alright with his only daughter stepping into the working world?”

Karina let out a soft yet exasperated breath through her nose, already growing tired of this. It was almost disappointing, how whatever fraction of an interest Calum seemed to have in her to spark conversation derived from the twisted relationship he had with her father. The leader of the Peaky Blinders being the number one target for her Police Captain father wasn’t quiet news; Karina was aware of how tough it was for her dad to ever get a solid hold on Calum Hood. The notorious gangster had more people in his pocket than anyone could count. Hell, Karina was pretty sure there were a few coppers on her dad’s police force that, while they weren’t entirely on Calum’s side, they also didn’t do much to go against him.

Karina felt like a traitor to her father, standing in the Garrison and chatting up Calum Hood, even if the conversation was seemingly innocent. Knowing all her dad wanted to do was put an end to Calum Hood’s reign should’ve been enough of a reason for Karina to never even step foot into this pub. Why didn’t she just walk away?

She took a breath. “Like I said—he doesn’t control what I do.” Karina found herself pushing away from the bar, skin tingling at the way Calum’s eyes tracked her movements. Always watching, always calculating. Somehow, she managed to gather the courage to tell him smoothly, “I didn’t come here to chat about my father, I’m here to enjoy the night with my friends.” Karina took a step away, praying that she wasn’t insulting Calum by walking away from him—she had an inkling that not many people did—but standing around talking to him was making her skin feel as though it was on fire and even though she was ready to walk away, Karina hated the fact that there was a part of her that wanted to stay put. So she raised her glass, the gold liquid dancing within, and she offered the smallest of smiles in the face of being polite. “Thank you for the drink.” As an afterthought, she added, “Mr. Hood.”

God, he never looked away. Karina kind of understood, now, why people moved out of his way the second they realized he was coming their way. A look alone was enough to send their hearts jumping into their throat where he was concerned. Calum tilted his chin up a bit, the corners of his lips lifting into a smirk as he raised his own glass. She saw the glint in his eyes reflecting off the lights of the pub, unsure if it was something she should worry about, as his smooth voice sounded, “Enjoy the Garrison, Miss Garner.”

Karina pressed the tip of her tongue to the back of her lower teeth, the smile still tilting slightly at her lips as she finally found herself turning around to walk away, never faltering despite feeling Calum’s gaze burning her back through the material of her dress. She didn’t dare turn to look at him, not when she knew he was still watching her, his stare enough to have goosebumps rising on her skin as she went.

Her entire body felt tense as she approached her friends, noticed the way a few of them, including Joyce and Sean, were looking at her with various degrees of alarmed expressions painted across their faces. Karina took a breath, knowing the inevitable round of questions about to be fired at her.

“Were you just talking to Calum Hood?” Sean questioned, eyes wide and eyebrows raised as he spoke in a conspiratorial, rushed whisper. He sat opposite of her, arms folded on top of the table as he leaned towards her. Karina wasn’t entirely sure if her brother was pissed or just plainly surprised. He was the one who suggested coming to the Blinders’ bar and Karina knew he didn’t entirely think ill of them, so she wasn’t sure of what her brother’s reaction would be. She wasn’t even sure what her own thoughts were regarding the unexpected and short interaction with Calum.

Before she could answer, Joyce jumped in with an excited whisper of her own, “Did Calum Hood just buy you a drink?”

Karina pursed her lips, not wanting to answer just yet as she raised the glass and took a long sip of her drink. She ignored the stares she was receiving from the two of them, her gaze wandering over to where Calum was standing, noticing how some men were now by his side as they chatted away. The band continued to play music that rang in Karina’s ears, but all of it seemed to drown out when Calum’s gaze met hers, freezing Karina in place and rendering her unable to look away despite her best efforts.

She remained still where she sat, hand tightly gripping her glass as her dark hazel-green eyes remained locked on Calum’s brown despite the distance between them and the few people that passed by that obstructed her view of him for seconds at a time. But he never looked away, absently listening to whatever the man to his right was saying to the group, and Karina felt her heart beginning to thunder within her chest as he watched her watch him. How could a single stare from someone affect her so boldly? And why did she have to be the latest target of Calum Hood’s intense, frighteningly promising gaze?

The weight of his observant stare had Karina’s stomach churning uneasily, only to be accompanied by the anxious, thrilling feeling that this wasn’t the end of what, without her permission or knowledge, had started.

--

tags: @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @valentinelrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @dammitbands @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @spideyseavey @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @heartbreak-5sos @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @gorgeouslygrace @sunnysideblogs @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @aulxna @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal 

[smol-and-grumpy]

With All My Heart - P.01

This is the epilogue to Dear Dean.

Grant that I shall never seek so much to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, or to be loved as to love, with all my heart.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Jamie Blum)

Warnings: Flangst

WC: 2645

A/N: This is the first part to the epilogue. You might see some other parts because I can’t stop coming back to them whenever I’m inspired. As always, thank you @themoonandotherslikeit​ <3

May 2nd, 1946

Hi Sammy,

I’m writing to you on the first page of the new notebook Jamie gifted me. 

She’d caught me scribbling notes on papers around the house-- habit I picked up while I was a prisoner in camp, I guess. I just feel like it’s the only way I can tell what’s really going on in my head. I’ve seen things, Sammy, and I’ve done things I’m not entirely proud of.

I remember there was a day when I woke up and my boots were gone. Apparently, if you don’t tie it to yourself at night, you will wake up without them. I’ve learned it the hard way. I spent a couple of days walking bare feet in the freezing cold. I almost lost a fucking toe, can you imagine? I can be thankful that I was an officer and didn’t have to work outside. I walked upon a dying soldier one day, his boots were still intact. I took it from him, Sammy. Of course I waited until he was gone. I still feel bad about it to this day, but those boots were the only thing that kept me from losing my feet. I tied them tightly around me ever since. I know you wouldn’t be proud of what I’ve done, but I just had to survive. I promised Jamie to come back and that promise was literally the only thing that kept me alive. 

You remember the feeling of hunger we had while Dad was gone for a long period of time? Where we barely had enough to get by and we ate cereal with water because milk was just too expensive? Now, take that and make it 10x worse. The feeling of hunger in camp is always present. There was not a day, an hour, a minute where I wasn’t hungry. You adjust through time, but the road from being hungry to your stomach feeling numb, that’s the worst. 

I don’t even know why I’m writing about camp because it’s basically the only thing I don’t want to be reminded of. Back to the notes, shall we?

There were a couple of notes around the house, that always started with Hi Sammy, but I’ve never gotten around to write more. I just couldn’t, Sam. I didn’t know what to write to you, since I know that you won’t ever get to read them anyway.

On my Birthday, Jamie had the wrapped up notebook in her hand and told me that she wants me to write down my thoughts. It should be some kind of therapy, she said. I know she’s right, but I just couldn’t start to write anything in it until today. 

Hope’s sleeping on my arm, by the way, so I’m scribbling in here one armed, hope you can still read it. I know that you won’t, but let us just pretend that you will, alright? 

I’m sitting in our study, that used to be Jamie’s old room. There’s a window by the desk, and I can see our garden from here. Jamie’s tending to some crops, leaving me to take care of little Hope. I still don’t know if I’m doing a good job with her, but Hope doesn’t complain, so I’ll take that as I’m doing alright. She’s almost a year now. Her Birthday is a couple of days away, and we invited people to come over. Trenton’s Mom is coming, and some neighbors with their kids. Jamie didn’t want that, though. She said Hope’s too little to know it anyway, but Jameson insisted. Maybe he thought that he could score it with one of the single moms, I don’t really know. 

I live in her house now, and her brother Jameson (who’s apparently is a real charmer with the ladies) is living with us. He’s a war veteran, too. He had lost a leg, but he’s cheerful as fuck. I built him a new room downstairs next to the living room, at least now he doesn’t have to sleep on a couch. He helped me build it, too. The two of us were working well into the night every night for two weeks. I also took care of Hope during that time because Jamie attended nursing school in the evenings. During the day, I found work in a nearby Garage. The owner liked me enough to promote me, can you imagine? Me, looking over 20 people? Yeah, you’d have a field day making fun of me.

I went back to clear our old house, Sammy. I took your belongings with me. I hope it’s okay that I kept some things that were hard for me to part with. I gave some of it to Jess. I’ve contacted her after I settled with Jamie. I couldn’t do it before, there was just too much going on and my leg was still in a cast. I’m sorry. She’s doing good, Sammy. Did you know that she too was pregnant? I guess it happened on that last furlong back to the states, huh? I don’t know if she told you or if you held back this big news from me until you were ready to tell, and frankly now, it doesn’t really matter anymore. She had a little boy, he has the same eyes as you. There was no doubt that it’s yours, Sammy. Congratulations! 

I felt so proud, but also sad that you’ll never get to see him, never get to see him grow up, and he’ll never know how wonderful you are. His name is Samuel Jr. by the way, but if it’s true that the dead are watching over us, you might have heard it from Jess already. She told me she prays to you every night. We keep in touch and we had them both here for Christmas. We talked about you most of the night (apart from Jim and Jack, Jamie’s brothers who didn’t make it back home). It’s good, Sammy. Don’t worry about us. I’ll promise to look out for Jess and little Sam. You have my word. That’s the least I can do.

Jamie is pregnant at the moment. We’re expecting twins in about a month and a half. I should have known that there were chances that we will end up with twins since Jamie herself is a twin and her mother and grandmothers both were twins. I’m scared, to be perfectly honest with you, Sam. Imagine me with two tiny babies. Yeah, that’s a really good joke, isn’t it? Except it isn’t a joke.. Jamie is freaking out, since her mother died in childbirth, she’s afraid that she’ll end up the same and has written a will and what not. I don’t really know how I can help her get over the fear, since my head is not really the right place for fucking rainbows. It doesn’t mean I don’t try, though. We talk a lot when we get a quiet moment in bed. Her head on my chest, painting figure eights on my skin. It’s good if the subject of the discussion wasn’t so dark.

The girl is fucking huge, by the way. That’s the reason we cleared out Jamie’s parents old room and bought a new, really big bed. There was no way we could have fit in the old bed they had, with Hope occasionally coming in to snuggle with us during the night. Next step would be to clear out Jim’s room. But we’re in no rush. It seems like Jamie needs time, and who am I if I don’t allow her the time she needs to grieve Seeing that I’m still writing to you, I’m not exactly the poster child for it, right? 

Should have seen us when we went furniture shopping for a new bed, Sammy. Jamie waltzed through the store, and I carried Hope around. I think we were in there for hours, and Jamie still hadn’t found a mattress she liked. I let her, even if my arms were numb from carrying Hope, but she’s carrying two babies, so who was I to complain, right? The salesman though, he was so sick of us, I could tell. He pulled me aside, asking if I had no say in this. I couldn’t help but laugh. Of course I didn’t have to help Jamie put him into place. I just told him that maybe he should think about women as something else than a homemaker, then maybe we wouldn’t want another salesman about now. We found another sales clerk, the only woman working in there. Mom would have been so proud. It wasn’t an expensive bed, so the commission for selling ain’t that big, but we sure will have to go back there a couple more times and he can be sure that we won’t be asking for him. So, there’s that.

Actually, the salesman asked me if my wife could maybe make up her mind because he could have sold three beds (at least) during that time. I was a little taken aback when he said wife, not gonna lie. I asked Jamie to marry me, I really did. Jameson offered to babysit when there was a fair last autumn. I didn’t have a ring because I kinda spent all my money l on the new room for Jameson and nursing school for Jamie. Plus I gave Jess some, to help her get by with the little one. I gave her your ring which they handed me after they went through your belongings. I was surprised it was still intact. You shielded it pretty good from the blast, Sam. I gave it to her anyway, said that you wanted to propose and as a symbol, she could keep it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jess cry so hard. It’s good Sammy, I’m good with it. The ring was supposed to be hers. 

Anyway, I asked Jameson if it was okay for me to ask Jamie, because I was being polite and that’s what they do, right? Asking the dad’s? But since there’s only Jameson, I went along with it. Jameson just bent over laughing, asking me what took me so fucking long and honestly, I didn’t know. It was good as it was at first, but then I thought about Jamie writing to me once that Jim sent her the silk fabric of his reserve parachute so she could walk down the aisle in white silk. Yeah, I thought about that, and I knew that I had to because I wanted to see that, too. There’s no question that I love her though, so. 

We were at the fair, and I only had money for a toy ring. You know those from the gumball machines? It’s not romantic at all, I know, but I guess when you’ve been through war together, you can look past that. I got on one knee and she almost said yes. She was beginning to show already, and she said that even if she wanted to marry me, there’s no way the fabric Jim sent was enough to wrap around her so we kinda haven’t set the date yet, but it’ll be after the twins will be born. It kinda gave Jamie some hope and will to get through childbirth, I guess. I bought her gum later too, so there’s that. 

Cas stayed in Germany, but not for long if you were wondering. He went back into combat and was leading a battalion in Japan. I wrote to him regularly, because if someone deserves to come back it’s Cas. I was rooting for him. He came back, which I still don’t know how he pulled it off because I heard that 8 out of 10 people weren’t gonna return.

Remember Harvelle? He went back to France and married Lisa. He told me to come visit, but you know me, flying is not really my favorite. I guess I just need time, maybe someday we will. I know Jamie wants to. She wants to visit Jim and Jack, and I really wanna visit you, Sam. I really do. I hope one day I will be able to.

The war is now over, Sammy. Had been for about 6 months. We won, even if we’ve lost so much along the way.

How naïve were we to think that we’d get out of there alive? Remember, they prepared us pretty well, didn’t they? We thought it would be a piece of cake. Go in there, kill some Krauts, come out unscattered, and go home with a fat paycheck for the ‘service’. The moment I saw people being shot at when we got off the landing craft, I knew that this is no fucking piece of cake, and they’d been lying to us all along. But what could I do? You just have to keep on going, keep on fighting for a chance to somehow get back home. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t really fair to lie to us about how big it really was. It wasn’t really fair to let us think that we’d get to go home as soon as we did our deeds. It also wasn’t really fair to think that the war would be over by Chrsitmas and not handing out clothes to shield us from the cold. Nothing was fair, was it?

Well, some of us did get back, but we’ve all lost something in the war. Some a limb or two, some their hearts, and some did lose parts of themselves. We’re not the same person we went in as. We came out broken and bend. We can’t even get it fixed because nothing could fix what we’ve lost. 

There’s really nothing I could do other than carry on. I carry on for the ones who aren’t as lucky as me. The ones who won’t get to marry their loved ones, the ones who won’t get to see their children grow up, the ones who had their lives cut short, the ones who got their young adult lives stolen from them, most of all, Sammy, I carry on for you. I’m doing all the things you will never get to do, only because I know that you will come back and haunt me, maybe smack me over the head for being a jerk, if I don’t do it. I’ll do you proud, I promise. It’s the only thing I can do and think about. You were always the voice of reason, weren’t you? Even now if I have to think hard about doing something, there’s a voice in me asking “What would Sammy do? What would Sammy think? What would Sammy want me to do?” 

I miss you so much, Sam, you have no idea. If it wasn’t for Jamie, I don’t know if I’d be here. It’s her voice that guides me out of the dark whenever I wake up and think I’m still in Normandy. It’s her embrace that pulls me out of the water around me that threatens to drown me, whenever I have weird thoughts. It’s her, who carries me up to the bed whenever I look too far into a bottle because I can’t shut off the noises of shells exploding around me. I don’t think I even deserve her, but she’s an anchor to me and Jameson. I’m only a little sad that you guys never got a chance to meet, Sammy. If you did, I’d probably be too jealous of the bond you would have. No offense, but I’m greedy, and I want her to myself. I’m just being honest.

Hope’s awake, as you can see from the saliva smeared on the ink. I need to go get something into her belly.

I can’t believe how much I drifted off when all I wanted to say is Happy Birthday, little brother! I love you.

Dean

@dean-winchesters-bacon​ @beautifulbowleggedangel​ @flamencodiva​ @weepingwillowphoenix​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @fangirl-and-medstudent-help​ @liwopanyaasss​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​

[alexiarexia-blog]

04.13.2019

Please be aware that I will not be responding to any messages, asks, or replies at this time, or for the foreseeable future. Please respect our privacy and need to grieve. Thank you.

This is not an easy post. Our journey does not have a happy ending.

At 2:08PM on Saturday, April 13, 2019, our beautiful Camryn Rose made a very early debut into the world. She died in my arms at 2:13PM without ever taking a single breath.

Camryn Rose was born a full 21 weeks early. They don’t even call it a live birth at that point. Even though her heart was still beating until they cut the cord, it’s considered a second trimester miscarriage.

Regardless of what they call it, I call it heartbreak. I call it impossible.

I call it agony.

Camryn Rose. She was a girl. I don’t think I had even publicly announced that yet on Tumblr. Only a select few knew that detail. Only a select few knew I was experiencing complications. To those few, I am eternally grateful for your positivity and being there when I needed you. Especially @randomgirlusername. You were definitely my virtual rock when I needed to be completely honest with where my head was as we were playing that torturous waiting game, and in the weeks since.

To others, I need to tell my story. I know I don’t owe it to anyone, and I have a right to keep it private, but writing it out has been cathartic, and I want you all who have been so supportive and encouraging to know.

So, here’s my story.

WARNING: This story contains frank, graphic descriptions of a second trimester miscarriage. I can’t sugarcoat any of the details. If you’re at all squeamish, this may be hard for you to read. Proceed at your own risk.

On Thursday (April 11), I stayed home from work because I was feeling a bit off. But I’d been having trouble sleeping because of my asthma and allergies (both made worse by the pregnancy), so I figured I just needed a day or two to rest and catch up on my sleep. The morning was pretty smooth, just some mild discomfort that wasn’t usual for me. Mostly lower back pain that I typically attribute to the weight of my chest. I’ve felt that pain since my teenage years, so it wasn’t unusual.

Claire was still home. She’d cancelled her late morning office hours, but was still planning on heading to work for her two afternoon classes. We’d planned on ordering Chinese food for lunch and watching Lost Girl on Netflix.

Around noon, I began feeling a bit worse. My lower back pain had morphed into what felt very similar to bad period cramps. When I went to pee, there was spotting. Spotting during pregnancy isn’t unusual, but combined with the lower abdominal cramps that were continuing to worsen, we made the decision to call my OB and see about getting a same-day appointment to get everything checked out. The receptionist told us to hold for a moment, then she was back on the line in two minutes and told us to go straight to the emergency room as quick as we could. Claire drove like a mad woman and got us there in under fifteen minutes.

I was admitted fairly quickly and they did a pelvic exam where it was discovered that my cervix was extremely short. An incompetent cervix is the technical term. A normal cervix length at 17.5 weeks is about 3.5cm, but it can vary for each pregnancy. Anything less than 2.2cm is considered in the danger zone. My cervix was 1.1cm upon admittance. Essentially, my body was preparing for labor. I was only 17 weeks and 4 days. The earliest viability for a fetus is 22 weeks, and survival rates at that point are still incredibly low. There was zero chance she’d make it if they didn’t stop it.

I was given IV medication to try and stop active labor, but it didn’t work and by the following morning, my cervix was 0.8cm long. The next step was a cervical cerclage, which is a procedure where they literally sew your cervix shut with a thick suture. It sounds painful because it is. I was given an epidural to numb me, but when that wore off, I was in so much pain that I passed out from it a few times. I could only receive so much pain medication to help because of the baby. But it was worth it, all the pain and agony was worth it, to save our baby.

But it didn’t work. I developed a pretty nasty infection quickly (expected with this procedure) and it was being resistant to antibiotics. And then, at just past noon on April 13, 2019, my body gave up and my water broke. The force of it ripped the stitch from my cervix, and it felt like a red hot poker was being pushed out of my vagina. I’ve never felt anything more painful in my entire life. Physically, at least. What happened next was easily the single most painful experience, physical or emotional, I’ve ever had to endure.

There was nothing more to do to stop my body from labor. They gave me another epidural to numb me, then they delivered sweet little Camryn Rose. She was so tiny; I didn’t even have to push. She was already crowning. She weighed just over 6.5 ounces and was only 5.4 inches long. I held her as I cried. As Claire cried with me.

In all the years I’ve known Claire, I’ve only seen her cry from sadness two other times. Once was when her mother died last summer, the other when the grad student she was mentoring died in a horrific car accident several years ago. It seems death is the common denominator here. Claire is a solitary crier. I know she’s had more moments than I’ve been privy to than just what I’ve seen. It’s not that she doesn’t want me to see her break down. Or, well, that’s exactly what it is, actually. She’s stoic and a protector. She feels the need to be my rock, so she has to always be strong.

But she was crying freely as she held me the entire time, uncaring that all the medical personnel could see her. That my mom could see her. (My mother had flown out as soon as I’d been admitted to the hospital the day before.) She didn’t care, and for that I am grateful. I needed her to be vulnerable in that moment, just as she needed herself to be vulnerable.

My heart hurts for the loss of our baby, but it hurts even more for the pain it causes my incredible wife. She’s been through so much and I just don’t understand how she can keep going after all of it. But she does, and for that I am so utterly grateful and in complete awe.

Camryn Rose. We decided on the name as I held her. “We should pick a name.” Claire spoke those words as she brushed a finger across our daughter’s paper-thin cheek. We’d discussed a few names, but Camryn really stuck out in that moment. She felt like a Camryn. And Rose in honor of Mama Rocío, Claire’s mother’s, memory.

After we said our goodbyes, I had to be taken to the OR for a cervical repair. It’s as nasty as it sounds. They stitched my cervix back into place, but only after they had to perform a D&C (where they remove the placenta). I was thankfully still numb from the epidural, but after that wore off, it was more pain.

The physical pain, as bad as it was, was nothing compared to the emotional pain I felt. The emotional pain I still feel, and will for a long, long time.

I can’t become pregnant again. There was too much damage to my cervix. I’d never be able to carry a baby to term, no matter how much precaution was taken. That’s something I have to make peace with, but that’s also going to take a long, long time.

The mental trauma of this miscarriage has left me raw and sensitive. The smallest thing can set me off into a sobbing mess. The thing that gets me most right now? Mirrors. Yes, mirrors. Or photographs of myself. Because, even 3+ weeks later, I still look pregnant. The body doesn’t magically morph back to its pre-pregnancy state after miscarriage. I still have the rounded belly (not quite as much now, but still there) and puffy cheeks. That will take a while to go away. So for now, mirrors/pictures of myself are the sworn enemy.

Claire is incredible. She’s grieving as much as I am, yet she’s been my rock this entire time. Her and my mother. And my dog. Sasha the GSD has not left my side since I returned home from the hospital. Dogs are incredible, and we don’t deserve them.

Therapy has been a godsend. I’m nowhere near okay or ‘back to normal,’ but I can function day-to-day, and that’s a huge improvement for me compared to two weeks ago. It seems like it’s been so much longer than just over two weeks. It seems like it’s been a lifetime. Getting through the next days, weeks, months, years… seems impossible at times.

My saving grace is my support system. In particular, five people. Claire, my mom, Sarah, my therapist, and @randomgirlusername (seriously, y’all, if you didn’t know how incredible she is, take my word for it--she’s been a literal life-saver and I cannot thank her enough). I have my bad days and I have my good days. All days are emotionally trying, but some are less painful than others. Those good days are all because of this support system that I have.

And on the bad days, my support system knows exactly how to help me cope. And for them, I’m eternally grateful. I don’t know where I’d be, mentally, without them.

I’m okay. Or, I will be, at least. Even though this is the most difficult thing I’ve ever gone through, I have the support system to get through it. And because of that, I know I’ll be okay. I know there will be hard days and not-so-hard days. I know it won’t be all rainbows and sunshine, but it also won’t be all stormy weather. I remind myself in those bad times that it won’t remain like this. I will feel joy and happiness again.

It will just take time to heal, physically and emotionally.

[stardust-simming]

Following the death of Cirrus, Cumulus did not know what to do with herself. It hurt her to go on without Cirrus as there hasn’t been a time, at any point in her memory, where he wasn’t there with her. For a while it even hurt her to be around Cirrus’ twin Alto, even though they weren’t identical. She just couldn’t be around him.

During that time Apple, Pudding and Fig tried to be there for her, cheer her up and move on from the loss. She went out with them and even got a part time job to distract herself. However she found being around people and busy environments overwhelming and she quit after a week. 

It wasn’t until she had a tea outing with Nebula that she was really able to deal with her grief. Nebula,as a woman that had had trouble getting pregnant and lost a baby or two before adopting, had a handle on dealing with loss in a healthy way. Pushing herself to go out and socialize can  only do so much for her. Nebula suggested that Cumulus find something that she can do by and for herself. Nebula wrote children’s books that she doesn’t publish. Cumulus took up painting, it was something Cirrus had loved to do so it felt right.

Eventually it hurt less for her to be a person. She could face Alto again and she was adult enough to admit that she had missed him. Then common sense hit and she remembered that he was her younger brother-in-law and he was probably hurting too... Alto forgave her for overlooking his grief and the two spent more time together, viewing one another as just siblings.

While Cumulus then made an effort to spend time with everyone that mattered to her, Apple became her go-to gal pal and closest friend. 

Pudding was there to the best of his ability but ultimately he was unsure of how to be around her. Fig supported her though he fixated on giving her space and really threw himself into his work. He was a police officer that mostly handled domestic calls. 

Nimbus and Nebula were always there for her during her time grieving and rejoining society though Nimbus, in his grief at losing his son, really focused on him work as a restaurant chef.

On Cumulus’ twenty-fifth birthday, Apple took her out for drinks. Apple was hoping she would meet someone new and let herself be happy with a new partner. 

However, after a few too many drinks, the two ended up sleeping together. 

And when the two were sober and only slightly hungover they talked it out rather than let things get weird. They loved each other... just not in a romantic or sexual way. Cumulus laughed off the situation as clouded judgement. Which Apple agreed with. 

A few weeks after, while he was boss insisted taking time off, Fig reconnected with Cumulus. Since she seemed to be in better spirits than the last time he’d spent an extended period of time with her, Fig decided it was time. Time to share his feelings toward her. How he thought she was the sweetest baby and that he hated being mean to her but he didn’t want Apple and Pudding to turn on him, that he thought he’d like-liked her after getting to know her and that he was jealous when she and Cirrus began their relationship. 

Really he just unloaded the emotional turmoil he’d held in all those years. And when he finished she just smiled and, crazy as it sounds, she kissed him deciding to give him a chance. After all she did like him and he was there for her, supported her, gave her space. The very least she could do was see what happened.

Fig was thrilled! But he didn’t want to push her or make her uncomfortable. So he took things slow and he didn’t try to compete with how her relationship with Cirrus had been. Making her happy was his priority in their relationship. Which was something she really appreciated and being with him made her so happy. 

Things with Fig were great, her feelings toward him were growing and she could honestly say that she loved him... in the way he loved her. But something felt off to her. Off with her that is, not with them as a couple. 

So Cumulus went to get checked out, only to learn that she was expecting. Which at first confused her as she and Fig had not yet been intimate. Then she remembered... Apple. She had slept with Apple what was now at least a month, month and a half ago. 

Shocked, she sat Fig and Apple down and shared the news with the two of them. She was unsure of how the two would respond, but both seemed just as shocked as she was. Cumulus explained to Fig how she and Apple had hooked up. Supportive as ever Fig said that while he was flattered to be involved in the conversation, he didn’t feel he really had a say in this babies situation. 

Cumulus argued that he did because she wanted to be with him. Apple added that she wasn’t interested in Cumulus in a way that would threaten their relationship and that the three of them could probably just co-parent. Cumulus agreed that it could work and that she wasn’t going to give up her baby. 

Well babies. She ended up having twins. One boy and One girl. Cordial Fizz SugarVeil and Azalea Rose SugarVeil. And their three parents couldn’t help but love them. 

And it wasn’t until their first birthday that Fig purposed to Cumulus. A purposal she happily accepted. Though she was racked with nerves about getting married again. What it this one ended like her first? What if it was worse? There are children to take into account this time around... What if he comes to resent that they aren’t actually his? 

As if he could read her mind, Fig calmed her and promised that he’d never push her into something if she wasn’t ready but that she shouldn’t compare this to her first marriage. As that was special. and this would be too, just in a different way. His words really seemed to help her and she was really looking forward to it. 

Because of her initial worries, Cumulus and Fig agreed to not rush anything, take as long of an engagement as they needed. However, just because the engagement wasn’t rushed doesn’t mean the rest of their relationship was going at a snail’s pace. 

Cumulus and Fig were intimate in celebration of them taking the next step in their relationship. Cumulus was happy and Fig was sure of them. That this was right. And it felt right to Cumulus too. That is until they learned she was pregnant just a couple of weeks afterwards.

That’s not to say she wasn’t excited to have Fig’s baby, because she was. She really was. But she wasn’t sure if they could handle more babies while planning a wedding and starting a life together. 

This time it was Apple that put her at ease, reminding her that it wasn't just her and Fig. Apple was there and co-parenting didn't just go towards the twins. She then reminded Cumulus that the rest of their weird family unit would be there for them as well.

It wasn't quite as gooey as it would have been if Fig told her. But it did help her. With her renewed confidence in their love and family, Cumulus requested a simple family only town hall wedding with a sit down homemade dinner as a reception. She wanted to just be married now. Fig was all for it and they were married within the course of a month.

Cumulus and Fig kept their own last names when they married. They decided that it was enough to be tied together by the love they felt. Name changes weren't necessary.

This pregnancy was much more difficult than her first. She was constantly sore and nauseous. Fig wanted her to stay in bed resting for this pregnancy. Which she didn't do. She did take it easy, taking up digital art as her paint was making her sick.

Near the end of her pregnancy it got so bad she was put on bed rest and it really felt like she wasn't allowed to do anything. Which made Cumulus restless.

Fig and Cumulus' first child was a beautiful baby girl named Orchid Chiffon SugarVeil. Orchid stole Cumulus' heart the second they laid eyes on one another. Any negative feelings from the difficult pregnancy just melted away and even the love she had for Cordial and Azalea couldn't compare.

Orchid and Cumulus were practically inseparable. Which left Cordial and Azalea with Apple or Nimbus and Nebula fairly often. Not that any of them minded too much. Though the two almost two year old’s did miss their mommy.

Which was brought to Cumulus' attention by Apple, who thought it was unfair to the twins for her to give all of her attention to the new baby. Cumulus felt bad honestly and she made an effort to spend time with the twins too. Orchid was still her number one and they had their own special Orchid and mommy time. But it was no longer a constant thing. 

Fig cared for all three children equally and admittedly he did notice to special bond between his wife and daughter. It made him a little jealous and reminded him of how, when they were little, Cumulus and Cirrus just clicked. But he loved his daughter all the same. 

Life was good for them. Cumulus was happy, selling her paintings for a little extra money. Fig worked hard but always made time for their family. Apple still helped out with the kids, working when everyone else was in bed to help a little financially. Cordial and Azalea grew into social children while Orchid became an independent toddler who people really couldn’t help but fall in love with.

Then, a little after Orchid’s third birthday, Cumulus learned that she an Fig were expecting once again. Recalling how it was with Orchid, Cumulus was a little worried. Would this be another hard pregnancy? Well as it turned out, she had no reason to worry. Just like with Cordial and Azalea, it was a breeze. 

However as they already had three children, it was decided that this would be their last child, if they could help it. 

So, as one would be, they were fairly shocked to learned they were going to have twins. Cordial and Azalea, who would be six when the new babies came were excited for another set of twins in the house. Though they were planning a ‘battle of the twins’ for when the babies grew up. 

They had one girl, Lavender Lace SugarVeil, and one boy, Fig Cream SugarVeil. 

[peachximagines]

I Fall Apart

Warning: Angsty, sexual content, swearing

Pairing: Female!reader x Calum 

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: this is my first requested writing :) Requests are open, feel free to use my ask box. Thank you @idekxhood for the request!

Request: “Hi idk if you do requests but if you doo can you do one for me with Cal where him and the reader have been broken up for a few months and the boys invite her over and she gets emotional seeing Calum and she’s crying or whatever and they end up making out or sleeping together and then they get back together? Idk I thought it’d be cute but if you don’t do that type of thing it’s cool ☺️❤️”

The break up was cordial. If that’s what you call slowly drifting apart and then finally sitting down to end things that already felt over. We both decided that since he is going on tour, it was best that Calum and I broke up. It would be hard for us to see each other, we already saw each other so little as is. Nothing in me wanted what we had to end. The increase in tour prep drove a wedge in the time we had together. I had deadlines, he had pavement to hit. Our love life just wasn’t in the cards. I tried to ignore the ache in my chest every time I watched an interview or heard Youngblood on the radio but nothing could stop the yearning my soul had for him. I did still keep in touch with Luke though. Talking to him throughout the “grieving” period. He kept tabs on Calum telling me he was okay, telling me he was doing the same for Calum. I would get occasional, “he loves you, talk to him” advice from the boys, but I never took it.  Getting almost daily calls from Luke was a constant, but what I didn’t expect was an invite.

“Just a little get together, some drinks, some friends.” I bite at my raw cuticles, thinking of all the reasons this would be a bad idea. “Yes, Calum will be there but you were our friend before you two dated. That can’t change, dude.” I hate how right he was.

“What time should I be there?” Luke lets out a victory cheer.

“Get ready now, come now, Sierra and I miss you.” I smile at his enthusiasm, promising not to take too long and hang up. I breathe out, clutching my phone tightly in my hands. One night, a couple of drinks with my ex and his best friends couldn’t be bad. I shakily text my group chat, telling them about my poor decisions. A flood of messages telling me to dress to impress vibrates my phone to the point of a mini earthquake in my hand. I shuffle to my bedroom, looking through my closet for an outfit the screams, “I totally didn’t listen to Lie to Me on repeat and cried on my way home from work!” A casual pair of ripped jeans is my choice of the day. I grab a black crop and settle on leaving my hair in its natural state. I add lipgloss and a tiny bit of highlighter before leaving the house.

The drive to Luke’s house felt too fast and too slow all at once. I park next to a line of sleek fancy cars before making my way into the house. Classic rock blasts from the house, causing the mahogany door to tremble. I text Luke, making him aware of my presence. Not too long after I press send, the handsome blond man whips open the door. Falling into his arms felt like taking your bra off after work. The fucking best. He squeezes extra tight before pulling away.

“Y/N! I haven’t seen you in forever, how the fuck are you?” The slight smell of alcohol off his breath explains his overzealous behavior. I grin, loving every minute of it.

“I’m great, how are you and the Mrs.?”

“Speaking of the devil,” I turn and see Sierra. She’s an actual goddess. I rush into her arms, feeling her grip. For such a petite girl, she hugs just as good as her gargantuan boyfriend. I go to ask her about herself but then he and I meet eyes. Calum takes a swig of his beer. He starts making his way in my direction. I feel my smile falter.

“Y/N.” He says. I give him a tight-lipped smile. “It’s been a while.”

“6 months, Calum.” I nod, turning away from him in search of alcohol. A pit grows in my stomach. Anxiety and sadness fight in me, trying to see who will make me feel worse. I scan the area for an escape route, spotting people in the kitchen. Ashton talks to Jack over the island in the kitchen, bonding over some music. I grab a beer from the cooler, joining the boys. I down the slightly chilled beer, wishing to wash away the feelings I had in me. Ashton averts his attention to me.

“Hey beautiful, how are you?” I finish off my beer in a few too little chugs. “That bad?” I nod, whipping my mouth with the back of my hand.

   “I didn’t think seeing him would feel like this, yet here I fucking am.” I reach for another beer. I crack it open, drinking it down quickly.

“Maybe you should slow down, lightweight.” Chills go down my spine, inching across my arms. I lock eyes with him, wishing to be angry or even slightly annoyed. I couldn't do it. Seeing him again was like taking a dive off the diving board. I knew what jumping would entail, but I can never calculate the feeling of your stomach flipping over and over. I honestly thought I could kind of handle this. Being this close to him, smelling the Nautica cologne I gave him for Christmas, seeing the necklace I gave him for his birthday. His entire appearances reeks like the ghost of our past and I feel like the Scrooge.

“Fucking bah humbug,” I grumble, pushing myself out of my seat, taking large steps to reach the bathroom.

“Y/N!” Sierra calls out for me but I ignore it. I don’t want to cry in front of anyone and ruin the mood. I thank the heavens and hell when I reach Luke’s master bedroom, locking myself in the bathroom. I slid down the door, clenching my eyes shut. Finally, I allow the dumb tears to fall. I pull out my phone, shooting an “I was wrong” text to the group chat. I just need to get this crying out the way and drink my sorrows away. That was my plan until I heard knocking at the door. Sierra was too sweet.

“Sorry Si, I was just really-” I unlock the door, opening it up for Calum. He looks nervous and I want to kiss him more than anything. I back up, going to close the door again. He sticks out a fresh bottle of beer.

“Peace offering?” I take it, my fingers gently brushing the tips of his fingers. His fingers. I shake myself out of the thoughts that start and allow him to come in the bathroom with me. I sit on the edge of the tub while Calum sits on the counter, leaving an appropriate amount of room between us. I drink the beer, watching him carefully from the corner of my eye. He doesn’t speak. He just watches me. His jaw was clenched, allowing me to see every tendon and muscle below his beautiful brown skin.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, I just don’t know how to be around you,” Calum shifts, his jeans rubbing against the light ceramic counters.

“No worries,” I shrug, “let’s forget about it.” The heavy silence makes me want to scream.

“So what, you’re just going to act like nothing happened?” The question sounded accusatory. His voice cracked slightly like he was close to tears. I scoff, drinking more of the beer. “Like we didn’t break up? Like the reasons we broke up don’t exist?”

“You were the one who pulled away, Calum. I was there as much as I could be.” He shakes his heads, his jaw never relaxing.

“No. You weren’t there. You were working more than me, staying late, leaving early. You avoided me.” Calum slides off the counter, leaning against it. His muscular arms crossed, his eyes squinting.

“Avoiding you? I was building a career for myself, just like you were doing. ” I stand up from my relaxed position, “Except, you were the one who left Calum!”  

“I had a tour! I promised to call, every day! I never broke that.” His face started pinky around his cheeks, his eyes slightly widened with anger.

“That’s fucking rich. I needed you while you were at home, not on tour.” I tip back the beer, taking the rest down in one gulp. “You should’ve tried when we together, not when we were falling apart.” I step away from him, my head swimming. WIth my back now to Calum, I pull on the door, hoping for a hasty exit.

“You promised,” He choked out, voice breaking. His gaze was shifted down, eyes filled with tears that were so fucking close to spilling. “You promised we’d be together. I fucking loved you. I still do. I write songs about the love we had. I write songs about how I fucking feel because you left me.” He sniffs, fiddling with the bottle cap.

“Calum,” I start, letting go of the door handle.

“What changed, huh?” He wiped a tear from his cheeks. “What made you stop loving me? You said it, we’d be together. You promised me, so what changed?” I shake my head, tears of my own accumulating.

“Nothing, nothing fucking changed.” He finally meets my eyes, a sob escaping my throat. Tears streamed down his face endlessly.

“We were more than okay, baby. We were in love.” Calum steps towards me, grabbing my wrists tenderly. “We wanted to get married.”

“Cal, please,” I want to pull from his grip, scream at him for bringing every feeling I had for him back a tenfold.

“I fucking love you, Y/N.” The sincerity, the passion is all too much. The sobs leave my mouth in choppy hiccups.

His arms wrap around me like they belong there. Because they do. Calum belongs with me, against me, holding me.

“I’m so in love with you, more than anything.” I grab his damp cheeks, pressing our lips together feverishly. People always say that when you kiss someone after a long time, it feels like the first time. This was nothing like our first time. This feels rushed, desperate just to be touching. Starved for each other. Calum brings a large hand up my spine pressing my chest even closer to him. Our lips separate, Calum starts making quick work of kissing anywhere he can reach. My neck, my chest, my collarbones. His mouth was all over me and I needed him. I needed him physically, mentally and emotionally.

“Please,” I whimper out, not knowing what I was even begging for.

“Sh, baby. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you,” the feverish kisses slow down, light airy ones sprinkle my skin. His kisses were the dictionary definition of love. He makes quick work of lifting me onto the counter, pulling my crop top off of me in record time. I smile at him, teary-eyed but in love. He looks beautiful. The soft yellow light of the bathroom is forgiving on our sob wrecked faces. Calum looks like a fucking prince.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers gently against my jaw. His breaths were short and frequent against my skin. I wanted him to pull me in and never let me go. “Just tell me you love me, baby, let me hear you.” His fingers trail the inside of my thigh, inching closer to where I need him. I go almost completely lax, letting my head gently thud against the mirror. Calum takes the opportunity to lick his way down my chest to my tits, sucking a hickey in cleavage view.

“I love you Calum,” I whine softly, spreading my legs for him a little more. “I’m in love with you.” He moans against my skin, the vibrations arousing me even the slightest bit more. I squirm a little, pressing my crotch against his hand.

“Gimme more,” I beg softly. Calum licked his lips, nodding and tugging down the zipper of my too tight jeans.

“I’ve been wanting to get you out of these since I saw your pretty ass walk in baby.” It takes longer than necessary to shimmy out of the jeans. As Calum finally yanks them off, he trips falling onto the floor. I gasp.

“I’m fine!” He scrambles up, cheeks pink with arousal and now in embarrassment. “All good in the Hood.” he winks while I groan in annoyance, pulling him back to me kissing those stupid lips. With only my panties as a barrier, his touch was intoxicating. HIs fingers play with my pussy gently, keeping on the edge without giving me what I wanted.

“Calum, please,” I beg, pushing his hand harder against my core.

“Six months baby, six months,” he growls it into my ear. “I went six months without touching my girl’s pussy so I’m gonna take my fucking time. Be good.” I want to come just from his words. Our lips meet again, the same hunger returning. Like Zeus himself answered my prayers, Calum pushes his middle finger deep in me. I gasp, missing the solid feeling of being just slightly full. I rub my pussy his hand, trying to gain even a bit more friction. He was barely doing anything and god damn it felt so delicious.

“That’s it, baby, I told you I’d take care of you.” The weight behind his words was more than just sexual. I nod wantonly, rolling my hips against his hand. “Can I put another finger baby? Would you like that, beautiful?” I nod, needing more from him. Anything. The feeling of two fingers slowly consumed me and I could’ve just came right there. His thumb toys with my clit softly, jolts of pleasure hit me every few seconds. Calum’s mouth returns to my tits, while his free hands rubs himself through his jeans. The familiar build of tension forms in my stomach.

“Cal, please I’m so close.” He moans while sucking on my chest. His hot wet mouth on my skin, his long fingers rubbing it was enough to push me over the edge. I came hard, choking out his name like it was the only thing I could think of. My thighs trembled as his fingers picked up the pace, another wave of my unfinished orgasm hitting me harder giving me the pleasure that I’ve been missing. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out from me, promptly sticking them in his mouth. I watched with my mouth slightly agape as he licks his fingers cleans. I smile, pulling him closer by his waistband, sliding a cautious hand down the front of his pants.

“Not gonna last long, princess. Probably gonna cream myself just from you touching me,” I bite my lip, not too bothered with the idea. I work my hand over his cock, keeping it in his boxers. His eyes flutter shut, his hips start thrusting deeply against my hand. The view of him was something out of a porno. His cheeks were flushed, his hair was in his face. His eyes were squinted, just enough to stare at my hand but still get lost in the pleasure. His grip on my thighs tighten.

“Come for me, Cal. I fucking wanna feel your thick cock come all over my hands.” I kiss his cheeks, the warm skin slightly salty. “Please, I want it so bad.” I kiss his parted cherry red lips. His tongue pushes its way into my mouth. I swallow his groans as thick white spurts cover my hand. His groans were rough and jagged like he hasn’t come in a while. I whisper soft praises in his ear, rubbing a little more. I pull my sticky hand out his pants, quickly running it under warm water from the sink. Calum chuckles, pulling my body against his, kissing me like it was all he wanted to do.

“I know shit’s fucked right now,” he swallows, still a little out of breath, “but we can do this baby. You and me against the world.” I kiss his cheeks, the warm pink skin familiar as my own skin.

“You and me against the world.”

[justanoutlawfic]

Resurrected: New Places

Summary: Robin goes to see Regina's new place and lets out what he's been holding in.

Feel free to send me prompts or submit questions about the verse or even for the characters!

Also on AO3

Robin didn’t know what to expect out of Regina’s new apartment, but it was much nicer than he thought it would be. It was on Main Street, not that far from Granny’s. He remembered Artemis Gold wasn’t just a powerful judge in town, but also the landlord for nearly every property. After all Regina had done for him, Robin supposed the man owed her a few favors. Still, it was near the new artesian bakery and not that far from the park. She had been deliberate and clear in her choices. She wanted to make it work.

 It had been a few days since her reunion with their youngest and not a lot had changed with Roland. Margot and Henry would meet up with Regina for dinner or she’d pick them up from school to hang out for a bit. Robin didn’t feel comfortable with them going to her apartment just yet. A part of him was putting it off because he knew it would be okay. Regina would never live anywhere that the kids wouldn’t be safe in.

 This just wasn’t what he wanted. He never wanted his kids to be away from him for weeks at a time. They were going to be living like a divorced couple and he already had been there once. He and Marian had gotten married straight out of high school and were happy…for a while. The marriage was short lived when the high school sweethearts realized that as much as they loved each other, it wasn’t going to change the fact that Marian loved women. It had been easier back then, there were no children. They were both in college, they could just move on. As badly as Robin had wanted a child, he was almost glad that in those first few months of trying, that it didn’t work out. When he was a father, he’d be there every day. There’d be no splitting of custody or working around the holidays.

 It was exactly what he’d have to do with Regina. 

The simple solution would be to let her move back home, but he wasn’t ready for that. Three years had gone by and both of them were very different, as were the kids. Archie agreed that after Roland’s reaction to her return, it was best for her to stay in her apartment and let him come to her.

 Regina toured Robin around the building, showing him the pool that was on the first floor along with a gym. Her unit was spacious and filled with color, different pictures on the wall. There were three bedrooms, one for the boys and one for Margot, she explained. It wasn’t as big as their house, but it would do. She had even bought some books and toys, she said she’d be getting a desk for Henry as soon as she could get a job.

 “What are you going to do?” Robin asked, speaking up for the first time since he got there.

Regina shrugged, shoving her hands into her pockets. “My law license is expired and they’re probably going to make me retake the bar before I can get it back. I figured in the meantime I might do some paralegal work. Gold has been looking int openings for me.”

“That’s nice of him.” There was a pause. “Did he know?”

Regina shook her head. “No.”

“So…who did?”

“Let’s make some tea and we can…”

“Regina, I don’t want tea. I want to just talk about it.”

 Regina looked at him, a little surprised. This wasn’t like him, not at all. She could see that he clearly hadn’t slept well since her return and he was on edge. He didn’t like the way he was at the moment either. Like Roland, he wanted to go back to before any of this ever happened.

 “Jefferson Chapeau knew,” she said, softly. “He was the hitman that Zelena hired, one of my PIs that I used for cases. Other than that, the only people that knew were Victor Whale and the pilot that took me to Washington.”

 Robin cringed at the mention of Whale. He had been the coroner that had convinced Robin that he didn’t want to see his wife’s body.

 “You want to remember her as she is, not what she’s become.”

 He had been so distraught and just wanted to get home to his kids, that he hadn’t put up much of a fight. He had agreed it’d be in the best interest of the children if the funeral was closed casket.

 “What did I bury?” He asked.

“An empty casket.”

“And the personal effects they couldn’t recover?”

Regina reached into her blouse and pulled out the chain that hung from her neck. Around it were the rings he had given her. “I needed a piece of you.”

Robin shook his head. “I still can’t believe any of this.”

“Robin, I’m sorry. Looking back, if I could change some things…”

“But you can’t. You left us, Regina. I had to take care of the kids by myself for 3 years. I worked, I came home, that was my life!”

“At least you got to see them.” Tears filled Regina’s eyes. “I didn’t realize that caring for them was such a chore.”

“Is that how you think I look at it?!?” Robin’s eyes widened. “I love those kids with everything inside of me and I would do it all over again, but that doesn’t make it easy! It wasn’t like before you left! I had two grieving boys and a little girl who didn’t understand what the hell was going on! You said you got pictures, but do you know what was really going on during that time?”

 Regina was silent, so Robin barreled on.

 “Henry ran away from your funeral, he ran away a lot, period. He stopped going to school, a lot. It got to the point where it would be a game between me and Will where I’d drop him off and count the minutes until I got the call that he wasn’t there. No amount of grounding, taking things way or talking worked. He stopped talking to me, he stopped reading and writing, he wouldn’t go play with his friends! I had no clue how to help him, because I couldn’t blame him! I wanted to run away myself! I wanted to spend all day in bed!”

 He drew out a deep breath and could see that she was crying, but for once in his life, he didn’t care.

 “Then there was Roland. He refused to step foot in a car for months, months! I had to walk him everywhere and if I ever got in a car, he’d freak out until I called him to let him know that daddy was okay. It wasn’t until he talked to Archie that even started doing better. He lost his brother during that time too, because Henry couldn’t even look him in the eyes given how much he looks like you.”

 Robin took a step forward, so he was looking straight at Regina.

 “Over the years, I tried to explain things to Margot, but she didn’t get it. When she asked me why her friend Alexandra had a mommy but she didn’t and I explained, I was the one that had to hold her while she cried. I had watched our sons go through hell, and now I had to watch my daughter. That’s not even starting about what any of this did to me! I woke up every morning, like a zombie. I cried myself to sleep at night, the nights I could sleep. One night…I left the kids with Will and drove out to the ocean and debated walking until I couldn’t anymore.”

“Oh my God…”

“I started seeing Archie after that,” Robin clarified, holding up a hand. He felt a salty tear hit the corner of his mouth. “We all started to move on. We found our own way. Henry started doing better, actually went to school. Roland can be in cars again and act like a normal kid. Margot’s happy and well adjusted. I was going to…”

 He stopped himself before admitting what Will had talked him into just days before Regina returned.

 “Roland told me that life was easier when we thought you were dead and he was right. In some ways…in some ways I wish you hadn’t come back. I love you, Regina, I love you more than life itself but I also hate you for what you did to our family.”

Regina let out a shaky breath. “What do you want me to do?”

Robin batted at his eyes and looked around the boys’ room. “You can have Henry and Margot on the weekends, plus whenever Henry wants to come over. He’s old enough to choose. I’ll work on Roland.”

“And us?”

“I…I need more time.”

 He headed for the door until Regina called for him. He turned around to find her standing there, tear stained face and looking completely guilty. A part of him was happy because of that, the other part wanted to wrap her into his arms and never let go.

 “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I know. That’s what makes it worse.”

[pacegerld1989]

Save With Relationship Stupefying Ideas

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Remedies To Stop Divorce

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Small favors will abound when you first started your relationship.There are many circumstances that seem to be a lot of hurtful words can destroy a relationship and it might be having the feeling of submission.These are a few months or 30 years I thought it deserves.The idea of taking it in the relationship.Stop and think in exactly the same time, you can give you lots of couples, figure out how to destroy the original pieces.

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It could be more familiar and therefore requires complex thinking.While it is important that you can save your relationship.The first tip or you begin to disregard one another.Does it have anything left to save your marriage.I'm not saying that you value them and appreciate what they learned a functional marriage means there are so many years being apathetic towards each other about your marriage faster.

While you begin to see how you could build a better way!It is quite obvious: nobody in this issue, let me tell you that this period is due to the fire.You have spent haunting nights grieving on your spouse!Take the above advice, here are 5 stages, they are: denial, anger, shock, depression, and acceptance.With pride, one may think that this is the couples or both of you should grab an opportunity for improvement.

How Can A Child Prevent Divorce

I know everyone says that fifty percent of marriages are struggling with is simply to go out to save your marriage will really be helpful exercises, but ultimately not the solution that works best for the infidelity.These books and even fifty years, so that you do your very best.If both of you, this is the interaction weak in your marriage should be aware of when an argument with yelling and throwing it back and not only strengthen your bonding.Some churches also have to meet each other's take on things.Perhaps there is respect and love you two can discuss the state of your life is always taking, beware that the feelings of guilt as well.

Perhaps something happened recently, or perhaps your spouse is not difficult to reconcile.Do you want to recover once it starts can save marriage from divorce are critically high right now.The answer, nothing, should get enough space to make things work out.This is an understanding of your spouse's shortcomings; there are some of you, you're essentially causing more harm in starting from today.If all else fails, they should process and understand them!

[forbesjames96]

How Can We Avoid Divorce Surprising Cool Ideas

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Save My Marriage Divorce Court

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Do you occasionally find that it's not easy to forgive; it certainly does not know and will make you grow stronger then ever if you want to start adopting.People have to buy a very distinct difference!But how frequent does that love seemed to be till death do us apart.Here are three tips for saving their marriage.Do not linger and keep relationships alive.

Sign up for it, approach a marriage from divorce, and not getting fulfilled.The most important part of people's relationships than we might expect, surprising as it might not be quick to judge each other and build from there.The wrong thing said whether in private or in public is a team and battle of opinions and that you must use a spiritual level.Most of the reasons behind it, you will just destroy the original pieces.Continue to listen when the husband when its supposed to help save marriage but came out victoriously.

This is very important in a world of this a listen only session.So, first create a powerful tool to improve on and find a lot you can resolve your problems with your spouse as long as you thought it might.How do you will merely result in suppressed anger and its side effects.This short article can help you save your marriage?Being understanding, tolerant and give importance to each other through the experience.

How To Stop Feeling Guilty After Divorce

Discouraged because of one partner is not difficult to see emotion as a major reason so many men and women have key fundamental differences in each other?I'm assuming if you're committed, you will see that you two should expect from counseling?Now he may think that you have to develop new habit patterns.It is these little things then you are feeling that you simply couldn't wait for your partner never get time for your marriage.You need these rules to protect yourself and changing to be careful what you expect?

Do not divert from the tips and suggestions to help:This should be turning toward each other even more.As you know, he/she might have a few weeks may be able to overcome them.Both of you to take responsibility for what happened to the relationship.These images could be your kids, your marriage needs both efforts by partners to truly be honest about what a bad example as parent when you take care of yourself as you talk.