#prescribe me some sea air

[onioneyez]

Thinking about the GO kiss (of course) and how that strange versatility of the pairing in general extends also to this. The fandom’s grief is so universal because each person sees in it exactly what will hurt them the most.

To this aromantic, Crowley’s desperate gesture looks like: “is this what you want? Will this make us real to you? If I show you I love you in the right way, the human way, will I finally matter enough for you to stay with me?”

[underfaller]

in his house of mind, dead cipher waits dreaming

Chapter 2: Club Rush

Rating: T

Synopsis:

You really think you won that day/You packed your bags and sailed away/You think you left your past behind/But trust me/I'm still on your mind

A year has passed since Weirdmaggedon and the Pines family, victorious in the end, are happier than ever. Stan and Ford are adventuring at sea, making up for lost time. Dipper and Mabel are now freshmen and are ready to take on high school-- geometry, bullies, (student eating?) clubs, and all! However, things take a turn for the worst when Dipper and Mabel receive of horrific message from Ford:

Bill is back.

“Patient 323322, how are you feeling today?” 

Silence. 

“Patient 323322?” 

Bill narrows his eye but continues drawing. His cell is silent besides the faint humming from the air conditioning above. Every wall is a disorienting white and padded for maximum security. The only splash of color here is Bill Cipher himself and the drawings underneath him-- a single, red triangle next to a single, blue triangle. 

“Patient 323322?”

Bill’s eye snaps up, glaring at the therapist.

“What?”

His voice echoes, bouncing off the empty walls and sounding foreign in the demon’s ears. 

“How are you feeling today?”

This therapist is new but still wears the same awfully fitting white coat and condescending, fake smile as the previous one. 

How many therapists has he had? What number is this guy? The 100th? 1000th?  

It didn’t matter; nothing did in a place like this. 

“Oh never better,” Bill says, sarcastically. He rolls his eye, waving his hand dismissively. “I absolutely LOVE being here-- stuck in a boring facility in another boring mandated therapy session with another boring schmuck.”

The therapist doesn’t react to Bill’s obvious insult, instead jotting down some notes on his clipboard. Bill Cipher has the fleeting thought of grabbing it and bashing the counselor’s head in over and over until there’s nothing but bloody pulp staining the white floors. However, before he can run away with his impulsive thoughts, the therapist speaks.

“Are you sleeping well? Still having nightmares?”

“What’s it to you?” 

“Are you taking your prescribed medication?”

“Nah. Saving them for an overdose.” 

The pen stops scribbling and his therapist glances at Bill, eyebrows raised. Another awkward silence fills the cell. Bill rolls his eye once more. 

“I’m just kidding, shortstack.” 

The counselor lets out a deep breath and Bill feels mild satisfaction at his obvious irritation. Bill enjoys getting under the Theraprism staff’s skin. It’s a little game to combat the tediousness of this place-- he wants to see how quickly he can get his new therapist to snap. Even if he’s lost his powers, Bill knows that he is still the master of being insufferable. It’s the only thing keeping him from actually going insane. 

Bill looks down, grabbing a crayon and resumes his artwork. He draws two, wide eyes and a top hat on the red triangle. Somewhere, out there, a voice rings in his mind. 

Why did you do it?

Bill stops abruptly, still clenching the crayon to the paper, unmoving and stiff. 

“Well, despite the little ‘incident’ during Therapeutic Journaling, it does seem like art therapy is helping you open up, Patient 323322,” His therapist notes. “What is it that you’re drawing today?”

Bill still doesn’t answer. His mind swims, filled with awful buzzing. TV static. 

The sky is on fire. Everything is burning. 

Who exactly is even speaking?

“Mr. Cipher? Bill?” 

Bill! Billy! Billy! Billy! Billy!-

The static becomes deafeningly loud-

Then it stops. Bill grabs the therapist’s wrist just as his fingers touch the edge of his drawing. He looks at the confused therapist, his eye wide. 

“Don’t touch that.” 

“I just want to see-” 

“Let go.” 

“Just a little-” 

“I said LET GO.” 

The therapist lets out a bloodcurdling scream. Bill has driven the crayon in his hand directly into the left eye socket of the unsuspecting counselor. Bill continues to plunge the crayon deeper into his eye, feeling pieces of oculus and blood squish between his fingers. 

It’s unnecessary violence-- and even though Bill revels in it, he can’t muster even a laugh. 

Two guards quickly burst through his cell door, pointing their weapons at Bill.

“Patient 323322, step away from him at once. Walk to the back of your cell.” 

Bill lets go of his maimed victim, instantly changing demeanors as he smirks. 

“Well, well, well-” 

Pop. 

Bill suddenly stumbles from the shot’s force and he falls to his side, mind instantly growing hazy as his body melts like jelly. One of those cretins just shot him-- he didn't even get the chance to monologue! Bill stews in silent rage as he  watches through a half lidded eye as the two guards pick up the unconscious, bleeding therapist. 

“Did you see what he did to the last counselor?” The first one grumbles. 

“Wish I didn’t,” replies the one who shot him. “Who thought it was a good idea to give such a dangerous inmate that big pair of scissors?”

“Seriously. Though, better just get used to him being here. The guy’s a lost cause. I reckon he’ll be here for… well, forever.”

“That's true. It's amazing that the Axolotl even gave him a chance. I suppose it's just another example of its benevolence.”

“Praise the Axolotl!”

“Praise the Axolotl!”

Bill grits his teeth, fighting the wave of drug induced drowsiness that threatens to drown him. 

That’s what they think. Those presumptuous, pretentious idiots think they can contain me. I’ll get out of here. Then they'll see. I’ll rip those smug smirks off their stupid faces.

Bill struggles to say one last retort but he doesn’t have the energy to. He closes his eye fully, falling into a dreamless sleep. 

“Alright class, we’re going to talk about triangles.” 

The students groan and the teacher raises an eyebrow.

“Seriously, why the long faces? This shouldn’t be a surprise-- this is literally geometry class.” 

The class shuffles, grumbling as they rummage through their backpacks. Dipper, sitting in the back, unnoticed and quiet, follows his peers and pulls out his notebook, but he’s probably not taking notes. Dipper’s mind isn’t in class, in fact, it’s not even in Piedmont. No, in his mind, Dipper Pines, now fourteen, is back in Gravity Falls. His teacher’s prattling about theorems and proofs while he grasps onto sun-soaked memories. He closes his eyes. If he focuses hard enough, he can teleport himself back to that sleepy Oregon town. The air smells like pine and sunlight sifts through tall trees, illuminating the forest ahead of him. He’s holding his Grunkle’s journal, pen in hand, ready to document the day’s weirdness. Dipper wishes he was still there. Every summer is bittersweet, filled with such halcyon memories while also being a stark reminder of how limited it all was. It can push him all it wants-- Dipper is dragging his feet all the way. Time seems to slip between his fingers pushing him closer and closer to inevitable adulthood. He’d tried to delude himself that adulthood couldn’t come fast enough but now, he finds himself clinging on to his childhood, not unlike his twin sister.

Dipper glances down and realizes he’s been half mindedly drawing triangles instead of taking any useful notes about them. He draws a tiny eye and top hat on one of them before pursing his lips and scribbling it out. 

“Dipper?” 

Dipper quickly straightens up upon hearing his name. Dipper looks around and his cheeks grow hot. His teacher looks at him expectedly. 

“Did you hear my question?” Dipper shakes his head sheepishly. The man shakes his head. 

“I said,” He states, “‘If the sides of one triangle are proportional to the sides of the second triangle’s side, what are the angles of the triangles?” 

“Uhh.. they would be the same because,” Dipper rubs the back of his neck, nervously  tapping his pencil against his desk.  “The triangles are congruent.?” 

Surprisingly, his teacher nods. 

“That’s correct.” 

Dipper sinks into his seat with relief as the lecture continues. It isn’t before long that the bell rings and a collective sigh of relief lifts the sully mood of the classroom as the students pack up, preparing for their next class. Dipper grabs his backpack, heading for the door. However, he is interrupted once more by his teacher’s voice.

“Dipper, can I speak with you?” 

Dipper turns around, approaching the sitting man. As the rest of the class files out, Dipper feels his palms become sweaty. Was his teacher upset with him? Dipper had to admit he'd been daydreaming quite a bit in class but was it really been that obvious?

“Are you getting enough sleep?” His teacher asks. “It just seems like every time you’re here, you’re dozing off. It’s a bit concerning.” 

Dipper shrugs. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I sleep okay-- I guess.” 

His teacher frowns, rummaging through a stack of papers on his desk. 

“Well, despite your inattentiveness to the material, you’ve passed each quiz with flying colors. Perhaps this class is too easy for you?” 

Dipper gives a nervous laugh. Is that really what his teacher thought? Dipper admittedly spent a portion of the summer getting ahead in the upcoming curriculum with Ford, but he didn’t think he was above the class. However, before he can protest, his teacher speaks. 

“It’s alright. Sometimes students advance a little quicker than their peers; there’s nothing to be ashamed about. Though if you’d like a bit of a challenge, perhaps you should to consider this.” 

His teacher reaches into a folder, pulling out a flier and giving it to Dipper. He takes it, reading the bold, red letters at the top. MATH OLYMPICS 20XX

“I’m the coordinator for the team this year. Tryouts are coming up. You should stop by; see how your skills stack up.” 

“Heh, seriously?” Dipper enjoyed math, but he wasn’t quite sure he enjoyed it enough to sign up for what was essentially more math homework. Still, though, being sought out for such a prospect did make him feel a bit special. Math was a smart subject and Dipper enjoys being known as smart. It makes him feel like his Uncle Ford. 

However, Math Olympics meant being on a team. A team that most likely practiced after school. Mabel and him walked to and from school together-- They’d done so since third grade. If Dipper stayed after school for practice, Mabel would have to walk alone. She definitely wouldn’t like that. Dipper smiles nervously. 

“Oh I don’t know. That’s a lot of time commitment after school and Mabel-” Suddenly, Dipper remembers-- Mabel is probably waiting for him to walk to their next class. If he didn’t leave now, they’d both be late for English. Dipper quickly shakes his head, his nervous disposition returning. 

“I’m sorry but I gotta go!” Dipper says, inching towards the door. “I’m gonna be late.”  “Ok but think about it, alright?” “Yeah, haha! Sure!” Dipper calls as he walks out of the classroom… right into Mabel who’d been leaning on the door. 

“Ow!” 

“Whoops, sorry!” Dipper says. “How long were you waiting?”

“Too long. What took you so long anyways?”

“Ah, nothing,” Dipper replies, quickly stuffing the flier into his backpack before Mabel can snatch it from him. She tilts her head before shrugging. 

“Hmm…ok!” Mabel grins. “Now hurry up. I don’t wanna be late!”

The two rush to their next class, barely sliding in before the late bell rings. They sit next to each other as their English teacher steps forward, looking tired as usual. 

“Well class, I hope you all did your essays this weekend because the last period certainly didn’t,” She says the last part with a twinge of annoyance before trying her best to muster a sliver of enthusiasm for the students in front of her. “Would anyone like to share their essay with the class?”

Mabel instantly raises her hand. 

“Mabel?”

Mabel grabs her essay from her backpack more or less running up to the front of the class. Dipper gives her a small thumbs up of encouragement. She grins. 

“Alright, I wrote my essay on everything I did this summer!” Mabel clears her throat. “It all started with a fight against burrowing trolls-” 

Dipper’s smile evaporates as Mabel goes into excruciating detail of all their fantastical adventures in Gravity Falls. Dipper can hear giggles and he swears that his peers’ eyes are going to burn right through the back of his neck. He sinks slightly into his seat, pulling his cap over his embarrassed face. 

“...And that’s everything I did this summer!” 

For a second, there is complete silence before a couple of students tentatively clap. Mabel bounds back to her seat, looking at her brother with beaming eyes.  

“How did I do?”

“Uh, fine! Fine! It was really good!” Dipper says, speaking a little too quickly. 

Mabel, satisfied with his answer, looks forward, listening to the next person reading. A couple of girls in the corner rudely snicker. Dipper catches his sister’s name in their giggles and he turns around, glaring at them. Suddenly, the intercom buzzes. 

“Attention staff and students: We will be ending fourth period early for Club Rush! Please dismiss your students in a timely manner so they can check out all of this year’s clubs in the quad.” The freshmen class instantly breaks out in chatter, thrilled at the prospect of cutting. Everyone starts packing up as their English teacher futilely tries to stop them. 

“Hey, the bell doesn’t dismiss you, I-”

The first student throws open the door, leading to the rest of the class piling out into the wave of students in the hallway. Their teacher just sighs. 

“I want to join a club! TeenGirl Magazine says clubs are the best way to maintain a healthy social life in high school!” Mabel voices excitedly. “Yay! More friends!” 

“I want to join a supernatural interest club or something,” Dipper nods. “I think my skills could be super useful.” 

The twins make their way to Club Rush and are met with a barrage of tables, all decorated to each club’s theme as students shout, trying to attract prospective members to sign up. 

“Book club, culinary club, chess club, anime club-- man, there’s a club for everything,” Dipper notes. 

“Oh! Look, look!” 

Mabel drags Dipper to the far end of the quad to a very pink table with the words “Fashion Sorority” in glittery letters and surrounded by mannequins in very sparkly dresses. “Eh, you go ahead Mabel, I’m gonna be at that table,” Dipper points to the ASB desk where a bespectacled junior sits. “Ok, Cya!” 

Mabel strides to the front of the table, looking for the signup. She notices a blond girl holding it on a pink clipboard and politely taps her. 

“Excuse me! Can I borrow that clipboard when you’re done?” 

The girl turns around and Mabel recognizes that they share the same English class. She raises an eyebrow, examining Mabel up and down. 

“Oh. You’re the girl with that weird essay.” 

Mabel beams.

“Yeup! Mabel’s the name! What’s yours?” 

Mabel reaches out her hand. She's wearing newly knitted gloves. The girl crinkles her nose, refusing to shake it. “Why would I tell you?” She retorts. Mabel laughs. “Well, if we’re gonna be in the same club, we should get to know each other!” The girl suddenly giggles. 

“Why would they let a freak like you in? Only cool people get to join this club and you, Mabel, are not cool .” Her friends laugh and Mabel’s smile falters. She shouldn’t be so upset. She’s dealt with girls like her-- girls like Pacifica! They weren’t actually just mean. Perhaps, they were just insecure or had a really terrible father. Still, Mabel can feel hot tears prick the corner of her eyes as she hears their insults. Mabel’s cheeks flush red as she shuffles away.

“Hey! Are you in charge of the clubs this year?” Dipper asks.

The junior raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeup. That’s ASB’s job,”He replies. 

“Oh, awesome! Can you check if there’s any supernatural activity clubs on that list?” 

He checks the list. 

“Nope, not seeing any.”

Dipper frowns. 

“Ok. How about weirdness watchers?” “Nah.” 

“A Babba fan club?” “No.” 

“Sheesh, tough crowd,” Dipper furrows his brow.  “Ok, you for sure have to have a ghost hunting club somewhere on there.” "Nuh uh." “Ok, how about-” Dipper pauses, noticing Mabel  standing next to him with a defeated expression. Dipper is instantly concerned. “What’s wrong?” Mabel doesn’t answer but one look at the group of girls laughing next to the Fashion Sorority table and it all makes sense. He puts an arm over Mabel. 

“Aw Mabel, don’t get too upset. Those girls are just bullies,” Dipper says. 

“Yeah, but I really wanted to join that club!” Mabel protests. “But they wouldn’t even give me the signup sheet! Club rush sucks!” 

Dipper is inclined to agree, given his string of bad luck at the event, however the junior interrupts them. 

“If you guys are so upset about the clubs already made, why don’t you just make your own?” Dipper tilts his head. 

“We can do that?”  The junior rolls his eyes. “Uh, yeah. You just have to fill out an application essay and pay a $10 ASB fee.” 

That’s all Mabel needs to hear. She wipes away her tears, instantly returning to her cheery self as an idea forms in her mind. 

“That’s it!” Mabel yells, shaking Dipper excitedly. “I’m going to start my own club! Mabel’s All Inclusive Fashion, Crafting, Glitter, and Supernatural Activity Friends Club! And you’ll be my first member, Dipper!”

“Uh, Mabel, I’m not sure-”

“No buts, brother! If we want our club to get any members before the club rush is over, we gotta start immediately,” Mabel points. “To the administrative office!”

Before he can process it, Dipper is once again dragged away by his sister.

~

“HELLO? We’re home!” Dipper calls. 

“Hey mom, we’re home!” Mabel yells. 

They drop their backpacks by the front door. A familiar oinking grows as Waddles patters to Mabel. Mabel instantly drops down, hugging the pig. 

“Waddles, I missed you! I’m glad Mom let you stay in the house today-- it’s really hot out there!” Waddles squeals in agreement. Mabel notices little booties on the pig’s feet and she smiles. Her mom surely knitted them, probably in an attempt to keep the house at least a little clean while Waddles wandered around. Dipper pats Waddles on the head before making his way up the stairs to his bedroom. “Dipper! I’m gonna call Mom!” “Alright!” Dipper yells back. 

Dipper shuts his bedroom door, spying the radio on his desk. Next to it, is a small tape recorder that ran out of battery long ago. Dipper saunters over, popping the tape out, examining it. Mabel barges in. 

“Mom says her and dad are probably coming home late but we can have the leftover pizza in the fridge for dinner,” She says. “Hey, what’s that?” 

“I’ve been recording the radio audio while we’re away. Ya’know, just in case Grunkle Stan and Ford try to contact us.”

“Yeesh, brother, you are so paranoid.” 

“Well, it’s better being safe than sorry,” Dipper shrugs. “Besides, the recorder ran out of battery a while ago. I’ll bet there’s nothing on this tape.” 

Dipper rummages through drawers, throwing around mismatched socks and comic books until he finds 2 AA batteries. He unscrews the back of the recorder, replacing the dead batteries. 

“If there is something on there, I hope it’s Grunkle Stan drunk singing again,” Mabel laughs. “That was so funny-” 

“Shh. I’m picking up something!” Dipper remarks. 

Dipper rewinds, turns the volume dial, and presses play once more. Loud static buzzes before his Grunkle Ford’s disembodied voice breaks the noise. 

“zzzz….Bill….. Bill  is back. Do not engage….zzzzz…. Do not answer!” Ford yells. 

There’s more static before a familiar shrill voice rings through. 

“Hey Shooting Star! Hey Pine Tree!.....Grunkle Stan!.... with my brother’s guts and turn… mainland!...You’ll be joining him VERY soon! OVER!”

The tape stops. Dipper and Mabel look at each other, horrified. For a second, time really does stop. Only one sentence plays in the twins’ minds over and over. 

Bill is back.

Previous Chapter

[3terna15unshin3]

Hey I have a request for a blurb. Matty and Este are both so career driven but what about something that makes them consider next steps? They’ve been together a few years at this point. I was just thinking about Este thinking she might be pregnant and Mattys reaction. Even if she isn’t but then they have to talk about what they both want from life and how old they are. Fluffy more than angsty?

Late

Este might be pregnant

2102 words

—

a/n: thank u sooo much for the request!!! In the past i’ve been feral at those interview clips of Matty talking about pregnancy scares and being up to have a baby and whatever so I am very much into this concept😝😝 I hope this is what u were looking for!

(I wrote a whole 15 chapter fic of this universe! read it here first if u want more Matty and Este 😌)

—

Este sighed, finally finishing her newest review and preparing it to be sent for approval. Her office was quiet, void of the few coworkers she shared it with due to the late hour. She’d called in the day before—a migraine and funny stomach holding her hostage—so she had a bit of housekeeping to deal with, and stayed past her usual time.

Once she’d packed up and left to her and Matty’s north London home, she sat in her own little world on the tube. Headphones tight over her ears. But as she stared down at her phone, the funny feeling her stomach came back.

It wasn’t uncommon for Este to get a bit motion sick; so she pressed the power button to turn off her screen. Avoiding her device would clear up the sickness eventually.

But it only got worse. So bad that when she got off at Queen’s Park Station, she walked the long way home to prolong the feeling of the evening air. Este thought about how a hundred years ago, doctors used to prescribe ‘sea air’ as a cure for being unwell. As if a walk on the beach could bypass a disease. She liked that idea, and suddenly yearned to be on the shore. To take in the smells. To eat some fish and chips. Fish and chips sounded really good, Este thought.

Matty had been working from home that day, corresponding with Jamie about some boring label stuff and hopping on call with his financial advisor. A pretty chill day, compared to the type he’d been working lately.

So, when Este arrived home, she found him on on the sofa with his nose in his laptop, Keiko crumpled against his thigh. She dropped her bag and politely shoved Keiko to the side after giving her a few pets, and took the spot in Matty’s lap instead.

“Hey.” he said with a chuckle, not even hearing her come through the door and smiling at the surprise. He buried his hand in her hair with love and studied her face that stared up at him. That’s when he noticed how the expression on her face was laced with discomfort. His eyebrows furrowed. “Is everything alright?”

Este pouted dramatically, making him roll his eyes. She giggled. “Yeah. Just feel a bit poorly from the tube home,” she explained, nuzzling deeper into his touch.

“From the tube? Since when do you get sick from the tube?”

Her shoulders shrugged. “Maybe I’m just not fully over what I was feeling yesterday.”

Matty pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. It felt normal. “Want me to run us a bath?”

She smiled at the sweet offer, and the fact that he knew that she loved a bath when feeling under the weather. But the more she considered it, the more she cringed at the thought.

“I was going to say yes, but a bath honestly sounds like the last place I’d want to be at the minute,” Este admitted.

He was taken aback. His hands grabbed Este’s shoulders to sit her upright and look at her head on. “Who are you and what have you done with my Este?”

She closed her eyes weakly and laughed—though it quickly turned to a grimace when the movement in her torso made her ache even more.

“Seriously, love! I don’t think you’ve ever declined a bath. Even last year when you had the flu and I was sure you’d pass out from the heat. You still said yes,” Matty pointed out.

“You’re right,” she agreed, “But don’t worry, I’ll just get some sleep. See how I feel tomorrow—“

“Have you had your period?”

They paused together after Matty interrupted her. It shut Este up quickly. Because she hadn’t.

She silently shook her head no in his direction. Wide eyes plastered her mug. “It’s late.”

Minds spinning, they sat quietly for another beat.

“Do you want me to go and get a test?”

-

Este took a wee on the stick. Matty set the three minute timer. And they waited.

“What if I am pregnant, Matty?”

They sat hip to hip on the edge of the bathtub as the clock counted down.

“I think I should be the one asking you that,” he responded, “Whatever you feel is right. That’s what we’ll do.”

She looked over at him in wonder and in slight apprehension. The overhead lighting casted shadows onto his face, showing its angularity and structure. It looked sharp, like it was carved out of something solid. But somehow it was sweet and soft. Peering at it was easy.

“But the next album. Tour. You either miss everything with me or you postpone your career. I couldn’t make you do that,” Este leaned her head onto his shoulder.

Matty’s hand wandered around to the opposite side of her waist and found home there. “Fuck that.” he said shortly. “There’s always time to release an album or to do a tour, darling. We can do that next year. The year after. 2040, even, if we need to. But this is right now. If you think I’d choose my ‘career’ over you, then you’re crazy.”

The timer beeped.

“I guess this is literally right now,” sighed Este, nerves bubbling throughout her body. She grabbed Matty’s chin to pull him in for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he said, like he always did. “By the way—if there is a baby and what you want is to walk to a clinic and get rid—then I’d also support that,”

She laughed at the way he waved his hand in casual dismissal when he said ‘get rid’, grabbing it tightly as they both stood up and prepared to look. Matty had a sheepish grin on his face after succeeding in making her laugh during such a heavy moment.

They perched their feet in front of the sink, where the test laid. And after a quiet ‘Three, two, one,’ in unison, Este flipped it over.

It was negative.

Just to be sure, she took the four other tests that came in the pack that Matty bought. They were all negative.

Este then gave her GP a call to meet with her the next day and get to the bottom of her mysterious illness; now that pregnancy was off the table (at the appointment, she would come to learn that she had developed a slight sensitivity to gluten. She would also eventually get her period—a small but loud 4 days late).

Now sat back on the sofa, Keiko sprawled across their laps, a certain weight was lifted off the both of their shoulders. But, the future still seemed up in the air.

“What if those tests were positive?” asked Este, “Do you feel ready to have a baby? Is that something you want?”

The answer was easy, for Matty. “The idea of being a dad does excite me,” he explained truthfully, “It’s just been the question of when would be the right time—because of how busy and weird my life gets. And also just the fact that none of my previous relationships got to the point of even considering it, since they haven’t been you. But I feel like me and you are cut out for anything. I’d be ready, for you.”

She smiled and grabbed his hand to fiddle with it.

“I also look at the way we are now. Passionate about our work, Keiko, living life fully. And I think that if a baby never happens to fit into the picture—whether that be by choice or just by chance—then that would be okay too. It’s me and you. It’ll work out.” Matty explained, “Do you feel ready for a baby? Or even want one?”

“For a while I wasn’t keen on it. I think it came from a place of just being scared that I wouldn’t have the chance, you know? That nobody would ever love me enough to want to start a family. In Filipino culture, it’s so common to get married and have children in your early twenties. My mum had me at 22 and I wasn’t even an accident. So when I passed that age and was not anywhere near getting married, I was kind of bitter. Angry that people wouldn’t stop asking me about it. Now I’m just in awe to share my life with someone. To be so eager to expand that adoration. So I wouldn’t be opposed having a little baby. Seems like a worth-while thing to commit to with someone you love. With you,”

Matty brought her in closer, making her cuddle against his side and beneath this arm. He planted a kiss on her temple.

“I also will say this,” restarted Este, “I don’t think I’d want more than one.”

He brushed a wavy stray hair off of her forehead. “Oh—you already know I’d spoil the first one so much that we’d have no money left to have another,” Matty joked.

She giggled, silently picturing what it would be like. How Matty would probably insist on carrying the little boy or girl everywhere and refuse to put the task on her. How if they had long hair, he’d ask Este to teach him how to plait with excitement, even though he wouldn’t be very good at it. How he would get the little one a pair of drumsticks as soon as they’re able to hold some. How him and Este would buy an endless library of story books.

“But—” Este began to clarify, quickly being interrupted by Matty who finished her sentence with her.

“Definitely not right now.” They clarified in unison.

Laughter blanketed their presence, happy that they were on the same page and that their bottom lines were the same. And that they knew to express it at the same time, in the same words. It happened often and honestly began to creep them out.

Este dragged their puppy up her body to embrace her fully and feel her soft fur against her tired cheek. The now even later hour drew Keiko tired and cuddlier; so any position they had her in would result in eventual quiet snores out of her snout. All three of them were where they felt the happiest.

“When the time comes, it’ll be fun. Being a mum to your kid. Really challenging, probably, but fun.” She decided with a grin.

Matty silently agreed, alternating between caressing his girlfriend’s soft skin and scratching Keiko’s fluffy coat. They sat quietly for a couple of minutes.

“Do you want to marry me? In the meantime?” he suddenly posed.

“What?” Shocked, Este sat up straighter. “Matty, is this a proposal?”

“If you want to marry me, then yes.” The casual tone of his voice made her laugh nervously. “Unless you want something more special, with a ring and everything. You can help me pick it out. And I can plan it, or surprise you. Just say the word so I know this is what you want, and I’ll do it. Now or later,”

Matty smiled when he felt her lips on his.

“Of course I want to marry you,” she said, “I’d marry you tomorrow if you wanted to marry me.”

There was a glint of spontaneity and realisation in his eye. Este watched him open his phone and search for the hours of operation for the nearest courthouse.

“Okay, baby, I was just being excited about the idea. Plus I’m going to the doctor’s tomorrow, to figure out this goddamn stomach that won’t rest. ‘M not sure if there’s time for a wedding,” she stopped him with sarcasm, chuckling and pecking him on the jaw.

He crossed his arms dramatically, throwing his phone the the side and sighing like a toddler. His eyes narrowed in playful anger and stared Este down.

“Suit yourself. Didn’t want to marry you anyway,” Matty joked.

She shoved him over as they burst into giggles together, continuing to banter about how big or small they wanted the wedding to be, how ugly Este thought most engagement rings were, and how there was no way Matty could make his way through written vows without crying.

And in bed that night, laying next to the love of her life, Este glanced down at her empty ring finger and childless abdomen. She thought about how she wouldn’t have it any other way—but also would have it a bunch of different ways—trusting the power of the universe to bring her exactly what it wanted to. Because of how certain she was of how great every single outcome would be, with Matty by her side.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Francis Drake Main Story

This is a rough translation. I’ll edit this if I find the time. Expect mistakes.

Would it be a betrayal to carry on this love?

Like the shore of a calm sea, it clung to my heart and shattered my feelings like a raging storm.

(I...)

I tightly grasped the fate entrusted to my hands.

With a snap, colorful fireworks burst against the clear blue sky.

Mitsuki: "Wow! Even the fireworks in the daytime are beautiful."

Napoleon: "Yeah. The weather's good, and there's a lively crowd here again today."

Petals were dancing in the air, and everyone was smiling and having a good time as the mansion's residents visited the venue of the World Expo in Paris.

Leonardo: "Some acquaintances of mine have mentioned that there are people similar to us who have visited multiple times."

Napoleon: "Makes sense. There's so much to see that visiting only once wouldn't do it justice."

Arthur: "Mitsuki, how about coming here alone with me next time? You know, like a date?"

Mitsuki: "Hmm, I'm flattered by the invitation, but I'll think about it."

Theo: "It seems that frivolous writers only focus on flirting when they come to a place like this."

Theo: "Broer, let's take some time to admire the paintings. Hmm? Broer, where are you?"

Vincent: "Theo, over here! Let's try riding the moving walkway!"

(Hehe, it's rare for everyone to go out together. They all seem excited.)

(Hmm?)

I smiled and suddenly saw a couple wearing kimonos pass by me.

(Japan, huh?)

I felt a sense of nostalgia and remembered when I first arrived in this era.

I traveled from Japan to France for a vacation in the 21st century.

During this trip, I slipped through a mysterious door I found at the Louvre Museum and time-slipped to 19th-century Paris, where I met historical figures from different countries and eras who live as vampires at a mansion I arrived at.

Napoleon: "Hey, Mitsuki. Is something wrong?"

Mitsuki: "Sorry, I was just spacing out."

Napoleon: "Geez, you're supposed to enjoy yourself today. If you just sit there, we'll leave you behind."

Mitsuki: "Wait, Napoleon!"

I smiled and hurriedly chased after Napoleon, who laughed wickedly, leaving behind a nostalgic feeling that touched my heart.

A few days later一

Mitsuki: "I'm back! Huh?"

Charles: "Welcome back, Mitsuki! Do you want to take a bath? Eat something? Or me? It's me, right?"

Faust: "Stop being so shameless, Charles."

Among the faces that greeted me when I returned from shopping were Faust and Charles.

They live in an old castle and would occasionally visit like this.

Mitsuki: "Welcome, both of you. What brings you here today?"

Faust: "We accompanied Lord Vlad for some business. I thought I'd also give the butler some medicine."

Sebastian: "Thank you as always, Faust."

At one point, Sebastian fell ill, and Faust prescribed him a special medicine.

Since then, Faust has occasionally checked on his condition, and Sebastian no longer complains of discomfort.

(He said he was just the right test subject for the new drug, but I'm glad Sebastian is feeling better.)

Charles: "I have a souvenir for you, Dazai. The teacher at the orphanage wants you to create a children's story."

Dazai: "Oh dear, I thought you were going to give me some delicious sweets, but it's about work."

Isaac: "Shouldn't you be grateful? Even a flaky person like you can at least be somewhat useful."

Dazai and Charles seemed to run into each other often in town and had become quite friendly.

I even sometimes saw Isaac getting caught up in their shenanigans.

Jean: "I thought it was noisy, but I didn't realize you guys were here."

Mozart: "*sigh* Has this mansion become a gathering place for vampires?"

Shakespeare: "*chuckles* The number of residents and visitors has increased so much. It's completely different from when I lived here."

Jean, Mozart, and Shakespeare came to the dining room.

Mitsuki: "I didn't know you were here, too, Shakespeare. By the way, I heard you have a new play."

Shakespeare: "I'm honored that you remembered. I came here to deliver the tickets."

Shakespeare: "My business here is done. Mitsuki, Vlad, and Comte are asking for you."

Shakespeare: "They have something they want to talk about."

(Talk?)

In the dark, quiet hallway lined with paintings, sculptures, and various antiques from different countries and eras, the sound of footsteps echoed.

The man making those footsteps lightly stroked the handle of the knife hanging at his waist with his fingertips and grinned.

Mitsuki: "Phew. The night breeze feels good."

I stepped out onto the balcony and enjoyed the coolness of the air that soothed my slightly flushed skin after having some alcohol.

The impromptu dinner party that was hastily organized because everyone had gathered together ended when Faust and Charles took Vlad, who had drunk too much wine and collapsed, home.

(Another fun day, thanks to everyone being here.)

As I thought this, I remembered what Comte and Vlad had told me earlier.

------------Flashback------------

Comte: "I've been checking the status of that door, but the other side is still not stable."

Vlad: "The door at my old castle is the same."

Comte: “The hallway appears as it cycles between abnormal and normal, but sometimes the time and space beyond it are distorted. I don't think I can send you back to your original world.”

Vlad: "I'm sorry, Mitsuki. The cause of the anomaly might be us."

Mitsuki: "What do you mean?"

Vlad: "That hallway connects to various eras. The fact that the space is distorted means that distortions are occurring in history and the world."

Their love for this world drove them to revive eternal flowers and transform historical figures into vampires, contradicting the laws of the world.

They explained that this action might be influencing the proper course of history, resulting in a warping of time and space.

Mitsuki: “No, I’m grateful that you’re investigating. But isn’t there danger involved in checking the door?”

Mitsuki: “Please don’t push yourself too hard. It’d hurt me if something were to happen to the two of you.”

Vlad: “Mitsuki.”

(Also...)

Mitsuki: “As I met everyone and spent all those precious days with them, I began to feel like this 19th century is another place I belong.”

Mitsuki: “Even if I can’t return to the 21st century, I think living here might be my destiny.”

(So please don’t worry about me.)

I conveyed this, and both Comte and Vlad nodded as if they understood my feelings.

---------Flashback Ends---------

(I really mean what I said back then.)

(Staying in this world is also one way of living for me.)

I’m fortunate to have food, shelter, and clothing, all thanks to the help of everyone in the mansion. But even considering that gratitude, everyone I’ve met has become incredibly important to me.

(I love this world. It’s a precious place for me, but...)

My feet were naturally heading towards that door.

(The world I used to live in is beyond that door.)

Thoughts of family, friends, and work that had become distant crossed my mind, and a hazy mist spread across my chest.

(If the door’s anomaly doesn’t get fixed, I have no other choice but to choose to live here.)

I do feel that way, but I don’t think it’s right to choose to live here just because there’s no other choice.

(If I keep having these negative thoughts, everyone will worry again.)

I shook my head to dispel the negative thoughts and turned my back to the door.

At that moment, I heard a creaking sound from behind.

(Huh?)

I turned around, and the door, which no one had touched, slowly opened before me.

Mitsuki: “Kyaah!?”

Then something flew out of the gap.

(Was that a bird just now!?)

Although I couldn’t see it clearly, a vivid red bird crossed my field of vision.

I followed it with my eyes, but suddenly my body was forcefully pulled back, and something cold touched my neck.

It was a dull, gleaming knife.

(---!?)

???: “The woman of destiny.”

I heard a whisper up close and felt a hand grab me, along with the presence of someone behind me.

Fear swelled within me at this sudden situation, and I turned around cautiously to meet the gaze of clear aquamarine eyes.

???: “Don’t move. This thing can cut through anything.”

???: “I’m not going to take anything away from you. Where is this place, and who are you?”

Mitsuki: “This is a mansion in 19th-century Paris. I’m Mitsuki, one of the residents.”

Mitsuki: “Who are you?”

I spoke the words in a trembling voice, and the man restraining me stared at me with unreadable eyes.

Drake: "I'm Francis. Francis Drake."

(Francis?)

Even though I heard the name, I had no idea who he was, so I continued to tense up.

Suddenly, the man let out a sigh, easing the tension.

Drake: "You've been trembling this whole time. Well, given the situation, I guess that's understandable."

Drake: "I suddenly ended up in a place like this, so I'm also confused as hell."

Drake: "Don't be too scared, little fawn."

For some reason, he called me that and grinned mischievously.

【 Masterlist ╎ Next Part 】

[ghosts-of-love]

blah stuff that should probably go in my venting diary just ignore

the old menty h has not been great recently. wish my brains reaction to things being overwhelming was not to either make me so stressed i can't function or so detached/dissociated and apathetic about everything that i can't function or god forbid (as is happenign rn) somehow both at the same time?? like how is it possible that i'm simultaneously so caught up on whether the house is tidy or whether i'm taking an even number of sips of my drinks but also literally nothing i'm doing or saying or witnessing feels real to me in any way? what is that about??

also keep thinking about that bit at the beginnign of fleabag s2 when she's like "you know when you've -" and then it cuts to a montage of her exercising and eating healthy and trying to make friends with people and it actually helps. i feel like i'm trying that like i'm journalling every day, i'm reading more, i'm doing crafts, i'm trying to make my weeks kind of structured, i'm going to bed earlier, i'm going for walks most days, i've been doing vague stretching, i'm on a waiting list for therapy and yet the past few days i've been like ahhhhh so insane in the membrane about everything and so completely detached i feel like i'm dragging someone along and forcing them to do all these things in a parody of how to look after yourself but it's ME i'm dragging along (and it's also not helping because it feels fake!). it's the kind of thing where i'll be properly spiralling and then will eventually just snap out of it and feel more grounded but it sure is taking it's time and idk how to feel better and i feel very stressed that i'm home alone this weekend unless my 1 friend here is free to hang out or unless i go to my mum's for the weekend to help her with house moving stuff but also it turns out she's not even really around?? so even though she said to come, logistically it wouldn't even work. but also if i went then i'd get to take myself to the beach and listen to the sea and stuff. self-prescribed 'sea air would do me good' but also i'd be just as lonely in that house if my mums not around. and then i'm like maybe i should see my dad while i'm there but there's really not enough time for that if i do end up helping with house moving stuff. so maybe i should just stay where i am and ask the 1 friend if they're around. potentially too insane in the membrane to try to make a new friend or ask someone i'm not close to. i feel like it could become one of those things where i end up asking literally everyone i know if they're around to meet up and just look at some nature with me?? but also no one is around that's the point of why i'm alone this weekend.

[harrison-abbott]

Michaela and Me

My sister Michaela had had problems with her sleeping for years. So she went to the doctor and the doctor prescribed her a form of sleeping pills. They worked at first. Michaela would call me up and tell me that she had managed to sleep for a full eight hours – for the first time since she was a girl. ///// Then she began to sleep in for work. And this wasn’t good. And when she turned up to work her manager noticed that she was groggy and not functioning as well as she used to. He asked her what was up. Michaela said she didn’t know. She wasn’t aware of the changes of her body. And thought it would only be a temporary thing. ///// And then at the weekends she started to take a sleeping pill in the afternoons, because she wasn’t at work. Michaela lived on her own and didn’t have any kids or a cat or dog. She did have a boyfriend. Then her boyfriend stopped coming around. Michaela called me, again, and told me that he’d broken up with her. She was crying. It wasn’t like Michaela to cry, but I understood heartbreak pretty well and so I consoled her as best as I could. ///// Then her boss gave her a disciplinary because she didn’t turn up to work when it was a super important day. It was a temporary warning. Michaela messaged me about it. She said, “I took two of the pills the night before instead of one. And it knocked me out. But I won’t do it again. My boss likes me so he won’t fire me. Haha.” ///// I couldn’t really judge Michaela for what was happening because I’ve had an issue with beer for most of my adult life. And for most of those long, long years, I have kept it secret from other people. I find it embarrassing, and I do it on my own, in my bedroom, mostly, in the dark. I didn’t criticise Michaela. But it wasn’t as if I was a champion of sobriety and that I could advise her, either. So what I suggested she do was book some time off of work, and that she could come and visit me for a while. I lived by the sea. It was nice here. Maybe the beach air would do her some good. ///// She agreed. And she came over to stay with me. ///// She’d gained quite a bit of weight. Again, not judging. Because I had as well, in recent times. It was weird because when we were little we were both so skinny. Michaela is my older sister and we’ve always been quite close. ///// In the afternoon she would start to shake. I first noticed it when we were out walking on the beach. Her fingers would tremble and her shoulders would spasm and she seemed agitated. And she wasn’t rude or anything; she was distracted and couldn’t link in with the conversation.

When she got back to the flat she would disappear into the bathroom for ten minutes. I knew what she was doing. And then she’d come out of the bathroom in a relaxed manner. And suggest that we watch a movie, or that we cook some food. If we watched a movie, she would zone out and her eyes would go all gooey; and if she was preparing the food for the meal, she couldn’t cut the vegetables fast and she would sway about as she stood over the counter. ///// I thought about seeing whether she wanted to go and see a therapist about things. I looked up the sleeping pill drug she was taking on the internet. None of the pharmaceutical information made much sense to me. And, by the way, I was drinking throughout this period as well. And the alcohol made me affably naïve that there wasn’t a louder problem. ///// She took her pills in the afternoon and before she went to sleep and probably in the morning too. And I drank from the morning up until the afternoon, and when she slept, I did as well, and at night it seemed like we had achieved something by the fact that we were still alive. ///// I loved my sister. She was funny. And intelligent, too. We talked about books and she told me entertaining stories from her travels. It was just that those hours when she zonked out with the pills kinda cut off the chapters from each of her days, so that she was like an abridged version of herself. And, again, it was the exact same with me. ///// There was one day when it was particularly hot. We walked along the beach and the sunlight dazed out senses and we went back home early. We slept early. Slept into the afternoon. ///// I woke up around six in the evening, feeling like crap. And then I went into the living room. Michaela was on the sofa. She’d forgotten to hide her tub of sleeping pills and it was right there on the table. She was lain on her side, awkwardly, with her elbow under her back. So I moved her on to her back, in fear that she might puke up. And I went down to the shop in town and bought two crates of beer and I came back. ///// When I came back home, Michaela was up. Sitting up on the couch. I had an opened beer in my pocket and I came in and looked at her and she looked up at me. She started crying. So I went and sat next to her. I was afraid that she might smell the beer off me. The tub of sleeping pills was there on the table. Was she crying because I had seen it? I put my arms around her. She ducked her head into my torso. And she shook and shook. And she said, “How did I ever get to this stage?” I gulped, as I was trying not to cry as well. And I didn’t want to say anything in case my voice would crack and so all I did was hold her tighter and closer. And she moved in to me harder as well. So I think that helped a little bit.

[trans-leek-cookie]

Thoughts on the little mermaid

I may be misremembering but didn't it feel like very painful to walk at some point after her transformation? Like the fact she's dancing makes me wonder if she's doing it by choice (my immediate image before I even realized it was probably the little mermaid was that she was delirious for some reason, maybe bc Cinderella wasn't like "yeah she's dancing and seems to be like. At peace" she just seems lost??)

Trying to figure out about the walking thing bit TV tropes reminded me: in the story mermaids DONT have an afterlife, iirc they fully become inanimate sea foam. How does this interact with Neverafter?? It seems like she persists between stories so I doubt it's like 'when mermaids die they stay dead instead of existing again' or whatever but at the same time this could be like way more fucked up if they do get another life? Bc while it's Unnatural for everyone one else it's like afterlife isn't super far from reincarnation they're not Close but there's a comparison to make about life/death/life again or whatever but if that part of mermaid lore is Canon in neveragyer uh. Well that's. Something

Also at the end spoilers for little mermaid the original one doesn't she like... become a daughter of the air. I fully forgot this Part and came back to write this but anyway that's interesting I forget where I was going with it though

read the Wikipedia article and it says that she "will be able to dance like no human has ever danced before. However, she will constantly feel as if she is walking on sharp knives" can we please get someone to prescribe her some painkillers

In the original story she also dances like for the prince... which... is curious. Is there a prince present on toy island?

SPEAKING OF toy island is like 12-14 year Olds right? So this brings up the question: how old is she? Did she just lice in the sea near the island or did she end up there because she's a kid or both?

Ylfa sister??? It would be really cool to contrast "transformation that makes you feel ugly and dangerous but gives you the ability to literally lessen the damage you take" and "transformation that makes you supernaturally graceful but causes you excruciating pain when you make use of that grace" like. Neither is Less Bad but they're so... hhhhhhh

Edit: generally the little mermaid is 15. Which would put her a Bit above the generally given age range (8-14?) Of toy island. Also the stepmother isn't special most of these girls don't have names

[bmodiwrites]

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This was a work of love and took me quite a bit of time over the last few weeks. I hope that comes across as you read. Special thanks to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple for the amazing photos of Eddie & Steve. They are absolutely perfect for this story. I'm also using this as my movie au fill for the @batboysxprompts Valentine's prompts. Word Count: ~29k Warnings: There are brief mentions of child abuse, drug use/distribution and minor character death. Keep that in mind as you read! Summary:

Their fated romance started when Eddie and Steve were in their teens. They learned to love each other hard and fast, with the sort of reckless abandon only the young can prescribe to. It seems like it's absolutely perfect, but Eddie's past becomes a burden that breaks them apart.

19 years later, Wayne Munson dies, bringing Eddie and Steve back together. Is it fate that's drawing them towards the love that never left? After his accident, Eddie's more than willing to chalk his good fortune up to just about anything. Read to find out what happens when a chance occurrence gives Eddie the second chance he's always been looking for. Will their love win out or is the past too much for them to overcome?

Or - an attempt at a story about love that's lost and then found again.

It’d been quite a while since Steve was stood up.

While his dating history wasn’t all that extensive (especially with other boys), Steve had enough experience under his belt to read a person pretty well. He thought Eddie Munson’s quiet, obliviousness made him a sure thing. Steve figured the mere opportunity would bring that smart little man right out of his shell.

Instead, Steve was all by himself an hour and a half after the time Eddie agreed to meet him.

It usually wouldn’t have been that big of a deal to Steve, either. There were plenty of fish in the sea and a lot of them appreciated Steve’s time and effort. He even tried to remind himself of that when sadness trickled into his gut instead of the rightful anger that should’ve been there. A hit against his pride would’ve been easier to swallow than the disappointment that lingered.

Steve, despite not really knowing much about him, really liked Eddie. For the first time, maybe ever, Steve actually wanted to be seated across the table from another person just as eager to get to know him. The feeling was actually mutual.

At least, Steve had thought so.

Unable to sit there by himself any longer, Steve got up from his lonely table in the corner. As he did, the sight of Eddie’s cousin Gareth sitting with his knocked up girlfriend gave Steve one last burst of hope. Changing his trajectory, Steve bucked up some courage and walked with determination in Gareth’s direction.

“Where is he?” Steve asked without any preamble.

Gareth turned around with a knowing look in his eyes, his mouth already forming around the address to Wayne Munson’s place.

Steve was out of patience, so he didn’t linger around to show gratitude or make pleasantries. If all went according to plan, Steve would have lots of time to make amends with Eddie’s cousin. Something deep in Steve’s gut said this wouldn’t be the last time he and Gareth had to scheme to do what was best for Eddie.

Driving to the far side of town soothed some of Steve’s former irritation. He appreciated the ability to let everything go and listen to the music playing over the radio. By the time he pulled up to the auto shop, most of Steve’s resentment had trickled out into the night air.

Of course, it immediately came rushing back when Steve walked into the garage to see Eddie hiding behind the popped hood of a car. His plain white t-shirt was covered in oil and grease, rolled up over his biceps so that Steve had no other choice but to look (and admittedly appreciate the view). The whole scene made Steve see red.

As did Eddie’s opening words.

“I decided not to come.”

Blowing out an impatient breath, Steve stomped a little further into the garage. “Hm, yeah – I got that.”

Eddie had the decency to catch Steve’s eye, but only for a moment. It was hard to lie to someone while looking right at them. “I didn’t know how to get ahold of you.”

Snorting, Steve stopped his forward trek, opting to put both hands on his hips, instead. “Oh, well I was at Hop’s. You could’ve gotten ahold of me there.” His words were petty but Steve couldn’t help it. The hurt welling up inside of him was too much.

When Eddie ignored him, Steve rolled his eyes. Taking a second to breath and actually get a grip on his surroundings, Steve noticed a couple of things at once. A cot, still trussed up from someone sleeping on it, was pushed against the corner wall. What looked like Eddie’s things were scattered around the small camp bed.

“Are you living out here?” Steve thoughtlessly asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Is this some kind of game you’re playing? Huh? With your friends? A little science experiment you’ve got going on? What is it?” Eddie’s pitch was serious, the older boy obviously getting mad.

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of Eddie’s suggestion. The only real friend Steve had was Robin and she supported him wholeheartedly. Though, Eddie didn’t know that. “What you’re suggesting is insane. I hope you know,” Steve said, choosing to deflect instead of answering with any truth.

“It’s insane, is it?” Eddie asked, clapping back with a sarcastic tone to his voice. “Maybe you just like strays.”

As the combative words settled over him, Steve’s earlier resolve to be rational and calm about this whole situation snapped. “Or, maybe I just like good guys who haven’t had it all handed to them.” Steve was wrung out and drained after admitting that. Though, Eddie obviously didn’t buy it.

His chuckle stung against Steve’s skin. As did the mumbled “right” that so easily fell from Eddie’s lips. Steve felt tears prickle at the corner of his eyes – maybe this really was a lost cause.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Without actually waiting for an answer, Steve turned around to sadly march right back where he came from. The stubbornness within him didn’t let Steve get but a few steps out of the garage before more things to throw in Eddie’s direction popped up in his brain.

Eddie embarrassed him and Steve wasn’t going to let him win that easily.

“You know, I just wanted a date. I wanted to go somewhere and maybe have some food or some ice cream.” Steve paused for a second, taking what he could see of Eddie in. His beautiful brown doe eyes were peaking up from behind the hood, half of his face still dark and covered. “Come on, you ask me questions and I ask you questions. And if we just so happen to like the answers, Eddie, then maybe we go on another one. And if we don’t, then we won’t.”

His outburst was cathartic, though of no use. Eddie didn’t budge or fight back or say anything at all.

“Forget it. I’m exhausted. Sorry for wasting your time, Munson.” Steve ran both hands through his perfectly styled hair to cover up the sob that wanted to escape. He tugged at the strands, forcing pesky tears from the corner of his eyes. The physical pain helped to dull the one developing in his heart. “I’m done.”

Letting out a long breath, Steve turned to once again make the trip to his car. This time, he almost made it all the way in before the urge to go back and fight some more won. Steve was spinning himself up at the same time Eddie came running from the garage.

Their joint effort to keep going back and forth with each other would’ve been sort of cute if it didn’t come with the sight of a black and blue bruise taking up the left side of Eddie’s face. The older boy standing him up suddenly made a whole lot more sense now.

As if reading his mind, Eddie pointed up at his black eye. “This is why I didn’t want to go out in public.” There was shame in his voice, though Steve had no idea why. Eddie certainly didn’t give himself such a nasty bruise.

Read the rest on AO3

[humanecosystem]

Taking a step back and learning to deal with environmental crisis, nihilism

How do you handle the prospect of doom, of environmental catastrophe? As young people, how do we make our way through the world in good conscious and maintain a healthy mindset?

I recently watched a 5-episode series of The Great Simplification podcast with Nate Hagens that features the fascinating Daniel Schmachtenberger, a social philosopher and founder of The Consilience Project. One of these episodes (linked below) gets deep into experiences of youth, of personal struggles in coping with all the bad things that are normalized in society, including the problems that threaten our future. As we grow up and realize how screwed up everything is, the question of what we do next is paralyzing. 

Daniel details his own journey growing up and facing the world with blunt honesty. For Daniel, myself, and other young people, nihilism is a logical resolution for coping with violent, doomful realities. This kind of spiraling nihilistic thought, which is egged on nowadays with social media algorithms, can lead to very dark places. I have spent time in the trenches of depression and practiced means of escape, trying out mindfulness techniques with varying levels of success. One thing Daniel says, though, has helped me understand a new way out of negative spirals: we can work with our deep feelings of nihilism to discover purpose in life. 

When we recognize the devastating implications of climate change, habitat destruction, ocean acidification, our emotions are complicated. We are affected, to some degree, by the endangerment of species, by pollution of our air, land, and sea, and by existential fears of what the future will look like. 

We feel these effects most deeply when we have experienced the power of nature– the serenity and beauty it provides. The more benefits we receive, and the more we are mindful of these benefits, the more it can hurt us to see humanity haphazardly chugging along. 

Here is the revealing thing: If we believe enough in the sacred qualities of nature to be crushed by its calculated destruction, this is enough to prescribe oneself a duty to cherish and protect nature by whatever means possible. Assessing our emotions, practicing mindfulness and critical thinking are the best way to come to recognize what drives us (as well as what triggers us into negative thought spirals.) 

Avoiding social media and resisting the algorithm, reducing our consumption of resources in small ways, planting native species, supporting small farms and agriculture, contributing to wildlife conservation efforts… these are just some ways we can exercise our power to create positive change. Mindfulness of our connections to and relationships with the natural world is the most powerful fulcrum for knowing what to do. 

After listening to this episode, I began an exercise in mindfulness and gratitude. What does nature provide for me? 

I am grateful for the oceans and their waves and tides, and being able to swim in clean water. 

I am grateful for the colors of foliage, lush plants, and grass– the subtle regional differences in shades of green. 

I am grateful for biodiversity, how it yields strong crops, resilient populations, and cultural richness.

I am grateful for delicious vegetables and fruits of all kinds.

I am grateful for the smells of fresh air, of salty ocean air, and of rain.

I am grateful for the earth, geology and the fascinating compositions of natural landscapes.

I am grateful for the serenity that nature provides, and for the privilege to remove oneself from the built environment.

I am grateful for the knowledge of other modes of life, not just of humans across biomes but of other species, patterns and modes of survival.

I recommend making your own list, and use it to practice mindfulness and gratitude. Shifting focus to our benefits can help ground us, and grant us perspective in the midst of our complex environmental crisis.

This video is part 3 of the 5-part series, and if you have the time and mental bandwidth, I cannot recommend it enough.

[howyoutalktostrangers]

So,

The trees were speaking to each other, I was sure of it.

Their language was strange and ethereal, but their intent was clear — the tree to my right blustered noisily in the mountain wind, rhythmically thumping its branches against the side of the house to punctuate its points, while the one to my left spoke in hushed whispers, shy. Together they formed a leafy canopy that framed my late night view while Elephant Mountain watched benevolently from a distance, gazing out over this sea of gossiping trees like Ganesh. Its slopes were cloaked in black now, as the gloom deepened, and I pulled my sleeping bag to my neck to ward off the night’s chill.

The air tasted delicious.

It was my first night in my new apartment on Carbonate Street, a two-bedroom on the second floor of a character house a few blocks uphill from downtown Nelson. It had beautiful wooden floors, high ceilings, and a back porch that sagged at a somewhat alarming angle but offered a staggering view from amidst the treetops.

I’d chosen to sleep outside with Muppet curled against my shins, perched in my nest like Tarzan. Laughter and shouts echoed up at me from the back alley as people lurched home from the bar, their disembodied voices floating with the wind. It occurred to me that I couldn’t hear any car engines, no traffic or hubbub. Just the constant tumult of mountain air and rustling leaves. I had truly left the stress and hustle of the city behind for the warm bosom of nature herself.

Pot smoke hung in the air, dancing in slow motion, and I watched it with a solitary satisfaction. Already I was in love with the magic of this strange little lakeside town; it felt like living inside a moving painting. For once I was alone, unless you counted the trees. It was like they were putting on a performance for me, pleading for my attention like children. I raised my pipe to my lips and thumbed the choke, taking a healthy hoot. I felt my breathing slow, my vision glaze.

The trees were continuing their negotiation when my phone began to buzz. I shooed Muppet off my legs and crawled to where I’d left it on a camping chair. It was Paisley, calling from her parent’s place in Nova Scotia.

“Hey duck,” I said, kneeling before the growing blackness like a supplicant. “What’re you still doing up?”

“I just wanted to talk to you,” she said, softly. “Is Muppet okay?”

“She’s sleeping right here, right beside me.”

“Mom misses her.”

I slumped back into my sleeping back. “She knows that. And you’ll be here soon.”

“I’m so sorry, bear. I really am.”

Her apology hung in the air between us. It felt like we’d been here before, like this was all some sort of grotesque and repetitive pantomime. I hated weathering her berserk tantrums, resented the way she clawed apart my dignity and sanity. Secretly I blamed her for the fact that I’d recently been prescribed antidepressants. I knew she was the problem, but I couldn’t admit it to myself.

All I could do was forgive her over and over, ad nauseum.

“You don’t need to be sorry. This is a hard time for us both,” I said. “With packing and whatever. The stress.”

“I just said some things, you know…”

“We don’t have go through it again.”

“I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, okay? We had a hard few days, and now you’re going to get on a plane and come see our new house. It’s crazy. I’m sleeping on the deck right now.”

“You’re sleeping on the deck? Isn’t it cold?”

“It’s nearly summer.”

“Still.”

I knew that Paisley was calling from the choir loft of her parent’s house, which was a re-constructed rural church built a stone’s throw from the Atlantic. At night her family liked to ascend into the pointed spire, which had a 360-degree view for storm-watching. She liked to meditate up there, or do yoga, while the windows thrummed with the ocean wind outside.

“I like it out here, it’s peaceful,” I said. “I’m with the trees.”

“With the trees. Are you high?”

“A little bit.”

She snorted. “Jealous. I haven’t had any since I’ve been here.”

“Well, you gotta come back to B.C. I’ll have a joint waiting for you when you walk in the door. The whole silver platter thing.”

“Three more days.”

“That’s not long. You could do that standing on your head.”

“Do you miss me?”

I hesitated again, torn. A flash of her red-rimmed eyes, her scowling face, tore across the night sky like lightning. It had been a relief being away from her for a few days. It felt like I finally had time to function as myself.

“Of course I miss you. You’re my duck.”

“Am I?”

“Of course. I don’t want to do this alone. You’re part of the plan, okay? But every time you go bonkers on me, you know, you threaten our equilibrium. Like I’ve got big plans going, moving here and taking this job, you know. So that’s what I want to be thinking about, not whether or not you’re going to be able to hold it together. I can only take so much, you know?”

“Wow,” she said.

“What I mean is, I need to be able to depend on you. So maybe for a while we just shelve the whole future of our relationship topic, and just focus on accomplishing what we need to accomplish. Together. I’m saying I can’t do this without you, okay? Muppet needs her Mom.”

“She’s sleeping right now?”

“Right beside me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just feeling sensitive I guess.”

“You don’t need to keep apologizing, okay? I accepted your apology already. Now I want you to go get some sleep. Can you do that? Then I’ll see you in a few days.” The Literary Goon

[dr-foster]

If Loki was bored, there needed to be another word invented for what Jane experienced as she lay in bed feeling rather like a beached sea creature. Jane had never gone so long without cutting or working in her lab. It was excruciating to be removed from her research even with new entertainment being provided on request. But it’s worth it. Jane thought with a sigh, looking down at her stomach, currently being used to cushion her husband’s head as he read. It was worth it to make sure the babies would be fine despite biological differences neither she nor the healers anticipated. It was worth it have them. It was worth it to keep Loki from annoyingly fretting too much.

She still hated it. Jane wasn’t quite as visibly jittery as the god, but she felt they were quite within the same boat. The doctor hated being pinned down and restricted or treated as an invalid when she was doing something that millions of women did every day. Not everyone makes human/Aesir/Jotun children though… Unique situation or no, it reminded her too much of the antiquated ‘rest cure’ doctor’s used to prescribe that actually ended up driving patients insane. Just slap up some hideous yellow wallpaper and It would be over for her.

The queen’s eyes lit up at Loki’s suggestion, already struggling to push herself up from laying on the bed. “Yes, please, darling get me out of here.” Fresh air sounded like exactly what she needed to prevent her from crawling up the walls. Finally, after several failed tries, Jane held out a hand and frustratedly waved it at Loki. “Help me up.”

@dr-foster​

Her stomach made for a excellent pillow, stretched out in the bed with her, a book propped on his chest. It was one of many they’d been through, in her confinement, so much so that the bookcase that lined their chamber walls was quick filling with pages already turned than those yet to be opened. He’d have to send for more.

The clock tick tocked, tick tocked. It would be too loud for the babies, he thought. They’d have to have it removed. Tick tock. As soon as possible. Loki finished the last line of the book and dropped it down on the mattress with a thump. A glance over at the bookshelf confirmed what he’d suspected - it was the last new one they had at hand. Yes, they’d have to have that amended too. As soon as possible. “And… the end.”

Rolling over, he pressed a kiss to Jane’s swollen belly and then propped himself up on an elbow beside her. “How do you feel, my love? Up to a stroll around the garden?” Surely, she had to be growing weary of this room. Of the tick tock, tick tock.

[afictionalwhore]

A Mermaid’s Mate

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A/N: this was inspired by a long and beautiful conversation with @jadequeen88 about nasty Pirate!Dabi and a little Mermaid!Reader and poor first mate Tenko. I’m an absolute slut for mermaid AUs and Dabi just seemed like the natural choice for a scummy pirate.

Pirate!Dabi x Mermaid!Reader ; little bit of First mate!Tenko

Words: 4K

T/W: noncon, fingering, little bit of anal play, mermaid anatomy, cucking, Captain Dabi is unhygienic in his sex life.

⎽⎼⎻⎺⎺⎻⎼⎽⎽⎼⎻⎺⎺⎻⎼⎽⎽⎼⎻⎺⎺⎻⎼⎽⎽⎼⎻⎺⎺⎻⎼⎽⎽⎼⎻⎺⎺⎻⎼⎽⎽⎼⎻⎺⎺⎻⎼⎽⎽⎼⎻⎺⎺⎻⎼⎽⎽⎼⎻⎺⎺⎻⎼⎽

Captain Dabi was to be, above all else, feared. He had developed quite the reputation for himself, covered head to toe in tattoos and piercings, a tuft of unruly black hair, and maniacal blue eyes that burned with something almost inhumane. Dabi quickly rose to be one of the most feared pirates of the sea. The rumors had spread like wildfire. He’ll steal your eldest daughter and eat her heart! had to be Dabi’s favorite. Combined with his love of pyrotechnics, the dirty captain found relative ease in pillaging unsuspecting coastal towns throughout the seas, leaving quite the impressive trail of broken hearts and devastated livelihoods.

Despite his fearsome reputation, Dabi found himself tossing and turning at night recently, unable to fall asleep. News, rumors, that his father’s navy fleet had been following his ship did not settle well with the captain. Sure, Dabi had stolen this ship from said fleet but that, amongst many other unmentionable crimes, was just a part of the territory of life as a pirate. What better way to start off a life of piracy than to change his name and steal a ship from the father he hated so much? Regardless of the rumors, as Dabi told himself they were, he had found himself unable to sleep that night. 

Dabi swung his legs up and over the hammock that swayed with the motions of the ship, hopping on the floor of his quarters with a small thud. He swaggered up to his cabinet before swinging the doors open, hoping to find some rum. None. That was fine. He’d just have to ask Tenko if he had some. That’s what a first mate was for anyways, right? Besides, a walk across the deck under the crisp ocean night air would do him some good, maybe clear his head and relax him a bit. That’s just what the doctor, him, prescribed: a night under the stars with his one true love, rum.

As he made his way towards Tenko’s quarters, he saw a light at the end of his ship. As Dabi crossed the deck, he could make out the skinny twig of a man hanging over the railing, pale blue hair shining under the light like a beacon.

Scurvy must have got the poor soul, Dabi thought as he creaked along the open deck, as though that would explain the man’s behavior, despite the fact that Tenko had always been, in Dabi’s eyes, a weird one.

When Dabi stole his father’s ship, he brought Tenko on as his first mate, since that backstabbing Keigo had joined the Navy with Dabi’s father. Dabi thought he’d have to drag Tenko on board, knowing the awkward man much preferred the indoors, always hunched over a pile of books. To Dabi’s surprise, it didn’t take the shy, blue-haired man much convincing at all to join. 

“Do you think we’ll see a mermaid?” Tenko had asked Dabi as they snuck away and sailed into their new life under the veil of stars. 

“Sure, kid.” Dabi shrugged, more focused on the rope work than whatever mythical creature prowled the ocean depths.

Ever since then, Tenko was always ranting and raving about mermaids. Dabi had already given the scrawny man lecture upon lecture after catching Tenko throwing their limited food supplies out into the ocean. It was only a matter of time before the man died trying  to fuck some poor, unknowing ocean creature in belief it was a living, breathing, genuine mermaid. 

That’ll just leave more rum for me. Dabi thoroughly believed, turning back towards Tenko’s quarters to retrieve the rum, head too full of worries about his father to bother with lecturing Tenko once again. Karma would deal with Tenko for wasting their food yet again.

Dabi had almost made it to Tenko’s quarters when he heard it: a soft, feminine giggle. Dabi wondered if he had already drunk the last of his rum that night and simply forgot. There was no way a woman could be on board, not without womanizer Captain Dabi knowing. It had been only Dabi and Tenko for weeks. He was simply hearing things. He had to have been.

Dabi decided to creep closer, just within earshot of Tenko and the mystery woman. He heard Tenko’s raspy voice—“fruit”—following by a lighter, almost airy voice— “foooot?”

“Try again,” said Tenko, leaning a little further over the railing. “Frrrruit.”

“Frrrrrrooooot. Frrrrrrrruit. Frrrruit. Fruit!”

“Good! That’s perfect!” Tenko exclaimed before tossing whatever fruit he had stolen from the kitchens into the water. “You’re learning so fast!”

Dabi expected a splash, prayed there would be a splash. Instead, his ears were greeted with more giggles. Dabi shook his head before turning around and slinking back to his quarters without the rum.

“I’m out of damn mind,” he mumbled as he tucked himself into his hammock, the swaying of the ship lulling him to sleep.

It didn’t stop there. The food kept disappearing. Tenko was just a little too eager to stay out at night for someone who usually didn’t enjoy the fresh air. Although Dabi felt his first mate could really use some refreshing ocean air. Dabi found himself sneaking out at night, stalking his first mate and listening in on his conversations with whatever the man was talking to. 

This had gone on for about a week. Dabi was growing more and more restless, finding himself inexplicably irate with his first mate. Conversations with Tenko usually were about some ocean myth, but they began to take a turn that left Dabi more irritated than uncomfortable or bored, especially combined with what Dabi was watching at night.

“Did you know mermaids can mate with humans?” Tenko said one clear day as he was cleaning the deck while Dabi charted their course.

Dabi stopped mid step and turned to face his friend. “Please don’t go and fuck the manatee.”

“I’m not going to fuck a manatee! I’m telling you! There’s genuine mermaids out there!” Tenko was working himself up into a fit.

“Fine, fine,” Dabi waved him off. “I believe ya.” I need to get this man laid. I need to get laid, fuckin’ Christ. 

“Unrelated, though,” he pointed an accusatory finger at his first mate. “Tenko, do you happen to know where the food has been goin’? I know mannin’ a ship with just us two fuckers is a lot, but we really can’t be out of apples already.”

“No, captain. No, sir,” Tenko fumbled with his fingers. “I can’t say I do know. Perhaps we have some rats?”

“Rats, yes, of course.” Dabi said, fearsome blue eyes never leaving Tenko’s red ones. “Rats. Tenko, make a note for when we’ve stopped in the next town. We need to pick up more apples and rat traps.”

“Yes, sir.” Tenko scurried away, and Dabi didn’t see his first mate for the rest of the evening.

The interaction had left Dabi more irritated than usual. Not only did he have to deal with a lunatic first mate, but he had to deal with the fact that said first mate wasn’t actually crazy. Add that to the stress of being out on the open sea for a week since he had heard the rumors of his father catching up with him and Dabi found himself on another sleepless night in need of a drink.

Knowing that he had already drank the supply he had stolen from Tenko a week ago and there would be nothing in the cabinet, Dabi once again heaved his body out of his hammock, boots hitting the hard wooden floor of his quarters, and found himself making his way across the deck under the moonlight to Tenko’s quarters.

Once again, there was Tenko, in his regular spot, hanging over the railing with his lamp beside him resting on said railing and illuminating his pale features.

“Tenko.” Dabi heard his first mate’s scratchy voice and watched as Tenko pointed a long finger towards himself. He heard the water move, splashing ever so softly, before the airy voice replied. “Teeeehnnnkooooooh. Teeeenko. Tenko!” Musical giggles floated into the night air.

“Yes!” Tenko moved his hand over the ship’s railing to point out into the water.

After a few moments, a soft voice answered back, telling Tenko your name.

Tenko sighed and repeated what you had told him. “That’s beautiful.”

Dabi scoffed. A burning feeling in his chest left him uncomfortable. That was enough foolery for him. God he needed a drink. He quickened his pace to Tenko’s quarters, nothing but rum on his mind.

Dabi made it to Tenko’s quarters, the blue-haired man too distracted to notice Dabi sneaking about. He fumbled around the room with the sway of the ship, throwing objects around until he had found what he was looking for. Rum in hand, Dabi left to return to his own quarters. As he made his way back, he overheard Tenko’s raspy voice once again.

“I love you.”

Dabi could feel the bile rising up. As he went to take a drink of the rum, bringing the bottle up to his lips, a gust of wind and a big wave caused the ship to rock, throwing the drunken captain off balance. He fell with a loud thud, disrupting Tenko. Dabi couldn’t believe his luck when the wave had also thrown Tenko’s lamp into the ocean below. He quickly scurried back to his room, going unnoticed by Tenko. Still, it was just the two of them on board. Tenko had to know Dabi had been spying on now.

The next night, Dabi found himself in a similar predicament as the first night he had caught you and Tenko, sleepless and drunk. Funds were running low. More importantly, the rum was running low, nearly out at the pace Dabi was drinking. He had been pacing the floor of his cabin, when it finally clicked.  Dabi heard the giggling once again, annoyed by the creature and his first mate’s consistent flirting. 

You. You were the answer. How much had Tenko taught you to speak? Surely Dabi could teach you a few new words, a few more tricks. Dirty sailors would run for miles for a chance with you. Hell, even some of the corrupt lords of the nearby islands would pay the big bucks to look at you. If Keigo was still the man he was when Dabi and him were friends, Dabi was sure Keigo would keep his mouth shut about his whereabouts to his father in exchange for letting his little mermaid suck him off. 

Further, Dabi convinced himself that he would be doing Tenko a great service by catching you. Dabi was a smart man. Growing up under his Navy officer father’s thumb, Dabi had heard a fair share of mermaid tales before meeting Tenko. What kind of friend would Dabi be to let poor, innocent, unsuspecting Tenko fall in the clutches of an evil mermaid?

Last night was too close for comfort for Dabi. He had to move fast. They would be docking soon. It would be the perfect chance for Dabi to see how much he could make off of you.  He swung open the door to quarters to see Tenko making his way towards your usual meeting spot.

“Tenko!” he barked.

The young man jumped and turned around, hiding whatever leftover food he had saved from dinner behind his back, hoping Dabi wouldn’t notice the disappearance if it were from his own plate.

“Yes, captain?” he asked.

“We’re docking at the next town. I need you to take inventory and make a list of what we need.”

“Yes, sir.” Tenko made his way to the storage below deck.

“No!” Dabi yelled. Tenko turned around, confused. “Start with the kitchens.”

“O-okay, sir.” Tenko turned to make his way to the kitchen, near his own quarters and across from Dabi’s.

Once Tenko was out of sight and well in the kitchens, Dabi ran below deck. He grabbed the net from the storage, and headed to the spot he always saw Tenko waiting for you at.

You had swam up to your usual spot, waiting for Tenko. Tonight, you were a bit more impatient. You had been practicing the phrase Tenko told you the night before and were excited to tell him. You felt the footsteps approaching, the vibrations rippling through the air and water. Something felt off. The footsteps were heavier than Tenko’s. A small voice in the back of your mind screamed at you to swim away, but in your excitement to impress Tenko, you pushed the thought back. Perhaps Tenko just wasn’t feeling well.

Finally, a figure appeared over the edge of the railing. You popped your head up from below the surface, splashing water as you threw your arms up in the air to exclaim “Love you!” 

It happened too fast for you to comprehend. At a dizzying speed, a net was thrown over you, trapping you in and dragging you across the water before hoisting you up into the air. You struggled against the bindings, crying breathlessly, “Tenko! Tenko!” 

As the net containing you was swung around the ship to hold you over the deck, you heard a rough, dark voice. “Tenko? No, doll. The name’s Dabi.”

You were dropped unceremoniously on the deck floor, net still draped over you.

In the commotion, Tenko had returned from the kitchens. He ran towards Dabi and you, trapped under the heavy net on the hard flooring. Whatever he was holding in his hands fell to the floor.

“No!” Tenko cried, calling out your name, reaching for you.

“Please don’t!” Tenko sobbed, falling on his knees. “Please. You don’t understand. I love her. Mermaids mate for life! I’m sure she feels the same for me.”

An inexplicable anger rushed over Dabi at Tenko’s pleading. When had Tenko ever been with a woman? And he expects this mythical beauty to love him? Dabi felt that he could burn up his whole ship with his rage at his first mate’s stupidity. 

That at least, is what he told himself. Dabi would be the last to admit that he was actually jealous of Tenko and whatever relationship he had with you. You were beautiful beyond words. How a creature as breathtaking as you could love someone as shrimpy as Tenko was beyond Dabi, and it left him pissed. 

“Would you just shut up!” Dabi spat at him. “Are you stupid? I thought you were the expert here. You should know it doesn’t have any feelings. It doesn’t love you, it only wants to kill you.” 

Dabi’s cruel words ached in Tenko’s heart. He clutched at the thin fabric of his shirt over his chest.

“You’re a pitiful excuse of a man! If you love her so much, then just take her from me!” He dragged the net off your shaking frame. “Oh wait. I’d have ya tossed overboard for mutiny. What a piss situation for you then. Well! Go on! Watch your woman, your thing, get claimed as your captain’s!”

Tenko’s head dropped. His whole body dropped. His hands gripped his dirty pants so tight his knuckles turned white. Tears ran down his face, dripping off his chin and onto his dry, cracking knuckles and pants.

Dabi swung a leg over you to straddle you at your waist, knees pressing in on either side of your slippery fin.

“Let a real man show you some real fun. Okay, babe?” Dabi smiled down at your quivering form, shaking with fear and cold.

Dabi ran a long, cold finger up and down over your small slit, just below where your fin and waist merged. After it had gained enough wetness from your natural slick and the ocean water that was still dripping off you, Dabi pushed the rough finger into you, causing you to gasp and jump.

“She’s so tight, Tenko!” Dabi exclaimed as he curled a finger against your spongy walls. “Well, damn! If I’d have known she was this tight, I’d have caught her a long time ago. Why didn’t you tell me she’d be this tight? Holdin’ out on your captain now?” 

You thrashed around the deck, beating your tail against the wooden floor of the deck and gasping for air, reaching out for Tenko, as Dabi continued to finger fuck you. 

“Tenko! Tenko!” you sobbed.

“How many times do you have to tell you, bitch?” Dabi growled. “The word you’re looking for is Dabi.” He shoved two more fingers in your small slit, pumping a few times before spreading them. “Gotta make sure this little mer-cunt is nice and stretched out for me.” Dabi chuckled to himself.

Dabi continued to finger fuck you as you sobbed below him. Your clawing at the wood of the deck had stopped, little scratch marks left behind in the wake. The air was heavy with the sounds of you gasping for air between your sobs and hiccups and the squelching of Dabi’s fingers in you.

“Oh? And what’s this?” Dabi took the hand that wasn’t busy with your cunt and poked a finger around your tighter hole just above the slit he currently had three dirty fingers stuffed in. He basked in your widening eyes and shocked gasps as he continued to finger around.

“Tell me, Tenko,” Dabi mused. “Is this her tight little asshole?”

Tenko, still staring at the deck, answered bleakly. “Yes, captain.”

“Fascinating.” Dabi slid his thumb past the rim of muscle. A thrill ran down his spine as you jumped underneath him.

“You like that, baby?” Dabi applied more pressure with his thumb. You squirmed more beneath him and cried. 

“Shhhh” Dabi cooed. “You’ll feel good real soon.” He turned to Tenko, who could be mistaken for a statue with how still the man was. “Tenko, tell me where her clit is.”

“She doesn’t have one like a human girl, sir,” came the small, dry reply.

“Oh? Then how is she supposed to feel any pleasure?”

“You see the thin skin around her waist? Right by her fin and skin?”

“Yes. What about it?”

“That’s her skirt. Right at the base of her skirt, where it dips in that V shape, that’s essentially her clit.”

“Ah, right here?” Dabi took the thumb out of your ass and pressed against the small V where your fin and skin met.

You couldn’t contain the moan that spilled out of your mouth. Dabi smirked at your reaction. 

“Bingo,” he said, as he massaged small circular patterns in that spot. He curled the fingers inside you, pressing against your gummy walls, before dragging them out. As your moans increased in pitch, Dabi increased his speed. Soon, you were putty in his hands, on the brink of orgasm.

“Come for me, doll.” Dabi whispered as your walls clenched on his fingers. He pressed once more on your “clit” and the knot tightening within you broke. You threw your head back against the wood of the deck, eyes squeezing shut, and cried out.

“Good girl. Good girl.” Dabi praised. 

Once you had calmed down from your orgasm, Dabi raised up to his knees, still trapping you underneath him. Your previous orgasm in combination with the fight you had put up left you exhausted below him. You looked up at the clinking of Dabi undoing his belt. He pushed his ratty pants down just far enough to release his aching cock. Being with you had excited him in a way that no human girl he had slept with before ever had. He had never been so hard and just watching you writhe behind him was enough to turn his cock an angry purple, precum leaking from the tip. 

Your eyes widened in fear as you took in the sight of him. He was bigger, much much bigger than any merman your mated sisters had told you about. He was pierced too, a Jacob’s ladder crawling up the underside of his massive length. This was completely foreign to you, and only served to make you all the more scared. Your adrenaline kicked in once again, and you resumed your beating and clawing against the deck, screaming “Tenko! Tenko!”

Tenko sobs resumed as he heard your calls for him. He could do nothing but watch Dabi stroke himself with you fighting beneath him.

“Please,” he rasped, barely audible.

“Would you just shut the fuck up before you make me go soft?” Dabi shouted at the man.

Tenko bowed his head again, resembling a kicked puppy. He sobbed and hiccuped, only serving to turn Dabi on more despite what he had just yelled at the man.

Dabi gave himself a few languid pumps as he lined himself up with your sopping cunt. You stilled as you felt the tip against you, frozen in fear.

“This is going to hurt at first, but I promise you’ll feel good soon,” he whispered to you, placing a hand on either side of your head and dipping down to kiss you. You turned your face to avoid him, only causing the possessed man to laugh.

As Dabi pushed himself in, inch by agonizing inch, your mouth fell open in a silent scream. Your hands scratched at the floor of the deck, trying to find purchase as Dabi stretched you. Dabi let out a groan as he bottomed out, tip kissing your cervix. The initial stretch felt like it was burning you from the inside out. He was too big.

“God. You must be a virgin, huh? Ready for the real fun, doll?” Dabi smiled down at you before pulling out and slamming back in.

You gave a scream, and threw your arms around Dabi, desperately trying to hold on to something, causing him to chuckle. He repeated the motion, again and again. You buried your face into the crook of his neck. The pirate smelt awful, but you were too scared to let go of him. However, as he had promised you earlier, the pain had subsided into something much better. You couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of Dabi’s piercing dragging along your walls, his cockhead hititng your cervix with each thrust.

“I’m not gonna last long.” Dabi grunted against your ear. Between your soft moans and warm, sticky cunt, Dabi was in ecstasy.

He lifted a hand to press back at your sensitive spot, causing you to squeal and tighten your grip on him. Your walls spasmed around him and clamped down on his cock. As he picked up his speed, Dabi’s thrusts became sloppy, beating against the barrier to your womb.

“Gonna cum,” Dabi panted. “Cum with me. Cum all over this too big cock.” He pressed on your spot, and your orgasm ripped through you, hot pleasure running through your body as Dabi painted your insides white.

As Dabi pulled himself out of your vise grip, cum dribbled out of your too small hole. Dabi marveled at your gaping cunt, whistling at the mess he had made of you. 

“Would you look at that,” he spread your hole, causing more cum to leak out. 

He stood up over you to fix his pants. Once he was fully dressed again, Dabi picked you up, cum still leaking out of your small slit, and dropped your lifeless, ragdoll form on the hard floor of the deck in front of Tenko, who lunged for you. 

Tenko cradled you in his arms. Your head lolled over his arm as his fell on your shoulder. His tears dripped down on your barely rising chest as sobbed racked through his small frame, the salty tears from the both of you mixing with the ocean water on the deck. 

Dabi scoffed at the scene in front of him.

“Better go get her some water and fast. How long can mermaids be out of water, again? Doesn’t look like she has a lot of time left,” He said to Tenko. Dabi wouldn’t be surprised if you were in shock.

He turned on the heel of his boot to retire for the night, but soft, broken sob stopped him in his tracks.

“Daaaah-beeee. Daaah-bee. Dabi. Dabi!” Despite being held safe in Tenko’s arms, you were reaching out for Dabi, crying for the man who had devastated you. Your pitiful state pierced his heart. 

Mermaids mate for life.

[ineloqueent]

from sea to stars

Brian May x Reader

synopsis: from sea to stars, the world is ours.

warnings: brief allusion to depression

word count: 2.6k

a/n: happy birthday sofie ( @drivenbybri​ )!! i hope you have a wonderful day, you absolute star. this is inspired by the moodboard you made me of holidaying with brian in italy <3

⭒

1992

The sun had gone down hours and hours ago, and yet, Positano was only just awakening.

Twinkling lights and narrow, cobblestone paths wound down the cliffs until the land dispersed and gave way to water, and the starry sky sparkled above a sea shining beneath the newly risen moon.

The tables were being set out for dinner, shop owners returning from their midday naps that had lasted long beyond their prescribed time allotment, elderly women gossiping as they hung up their washing, fishermen returning from the ocean to play their parts in the family scene.

There were young people too. Lovers and lone wolves alike, friends and proclaimed family, they laughed as they ambled half-tipsy down the streets of their village, or shouted to one another as they ran between the alleys and dodged adults who had the mind to complain about the noise.

It was by no means a quiet night in Positano, but then again, no nights were ever quiet on the Italian Riviera, with such a lively population, driven by music and a little bit of madness.

Or those were Brian’s words anyway.

He’d said that as the two of you had wandered along the low wall by the water, and you’d smiled fondly at him as he’d swung your hand in his own, enunciated his words in that particular manner of his, with that slightly-distracted air, which gave way to rapt attention once his thoughts had been spoken.

“A people, a village, driven by music, and just a little bit of madness.” He’d laughed then, a soft, breathy sound, one that you only ever heard when it was just the two of you, shrouded in the intimacy of solitude, where you felt like you were dreaming because you felt like you were standing at the centre of the universe.

And right now, there was nothing more to the universe than Brian’s hand clasped with your own. The lights of Positano caught on his ringlets as he smiled beneath the glow of the full moon.

Somewhere along the way, he pulled you to the side of the path and stopped beside a bush full of crepe-pink flowers. He broke one off from an overhanging branch and proceeded to brush the hair from your face with light fingers before he placed the flower behind your ear.

You smiled up at him again, because how could you not— this gentle soul with his wandering mind and ever-generous heart, who swore he loved you more than you loved him.

But you wouldn’t— you couldn’t— believe him when he said that, because surely, he could not have felt any love greater than the one that overwhelmed you, bubbled and overflowed from your heart, when he smiled at you, when he so much as simply looked at you, and you found yourself falling in love all over again. Surely there were limitations as to how much one person could love another, and surely you had reached those limitations with the way you loved Brian. Except for the fact that each day you spent with him made you love him just a little bit more.

There was always something new to learn about Brian, how he had a different frown for different types of concentration, whether it was music or mathematics, and how he hummed to himself when he thought no one was listening. He could be a grumpy sod sometimes, but otherwise, he had a mild temperament, and his darker moments always yielded far sweeter ones. He was stubborn, but somehow, he always came around when you laid your head on his shoulder and took his hand in yours. He would talk and talk about what was bothering him, hardly taking a breath, quite often on the verge of tears, but then you would look to him and nod.

“I know,” you’d say.

It was hard these days. But you promised him that better ones lay ahead.

He would sigh softly and kiss your forehead, and the two of you would sit together quietly for a little while longer before going about the day.

But here, in Positano, the world seemed to spin more languidly than anywhere else, the sun lingering high in the heavens, unperturbed by its winter curfew, and time was felt much more as a construct than a reality.

At nine o’clock, you and Brian sat down to dinner at a little place that overlooked the bay, mid-way up the cliffs and boasting the best scenery in the village, secluded beneath the lemon and pine trees, with a clear view of the rolling waves and the boats that rocked atop them.

“So,” said Brian, setting down his menu to look at you, “what is it to be?”

“Hmm…”

“Pizza or pasta?” he joked, as the two of you had done since you’d arrived in Italy two weeks ago. You were beginning to like this modified routine of lying in the sun and squealing like a teenager when Brian tossed you into an oncoming wave, winding your fingers through his curls as you kissed him beside cyprus trees, tasting homemade wine on his lips and seeing the sunlight brighten his eyes anew.

“I think it’s a pasta kind of night,” you replied, and within a few minutes, Brian had ordered for the both of you in haphazard Italian.

Somewhere, there was somebody strumming a guitar and whistling, and the sound echoed softly between the close-packed buildings of the village, reminding you of another time. Exactly what other times you were reminded of was unclear, but there was a certain nostalgia to the old architecture, old families, old memories of Italy, and you closed your eyes to drink in the music as Brian’s hand found yours again.

“Someone’s playing guitar,” he said, and you murmured a response. “Makes me want to write a song. Maybe I will.”

You opened your eyes.

Brian hadn’t written in ages.

He associated writing with his bandmates, and, rightfully, found the idea of writing quite painful, without them.

But here he was, saying he wanted— no, that he would— write a song, and you felt the world grow a little lighter.

You tugged on his hand. “Will you write one about me?” you said.

A smile broadened his pretty lips. “I’d write you a thousand songs if you asked.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “There’s nothing about me that warrants two songs, let alone a thousand.”

Brian lifted your hand to his mouth and pressed a tender kiss to your skin. “That is utter rubbish, and you know it.”

You had nothing to say to that, so you settled for a blush and a smile, and glancing down at the table, at heart still the teenager you’d once scorned, but had now come to love for her belief in the goodness of people, for the purity of her love toward those who loved her in return.

You weren’t old, but god, Brian made you feel young.

Young enough to believe that everything would eventually work out for the best, young enough to imagine that the sea and the stars went on forever, and that happiness came to those who deserved it.

It was all very unrealistic, but then again, you had never thought that someone as beautiful and kind as Brian could exist in this world plagued by human cruelty.

“Love?” Brian’s voice called you from your thoughts. He was looking at you concernedly, the crease between his brows for once revealing his age, some of the tragedies which he has lived through. His normally cheery smile hid these little sadnessess, but suddenly, they were as plain to you as the moon shining down from the gradient of the Italian summer night sky. “What are you looking at? Have I got something on my face?’

He lifted a hand to his cheek, but you beat him to the chase, running your thumb softly over his chin.

“No,” you murmured, staring into those endlessly hazel eyes. “Just you.”

His smile melted you. He pressed a lingering kiss to your fingers and said nothing more.

The food came and went, and after the two of you stayed a while longer, as was custom to do in Italy, you rose and ambled down the winding paths of Positano again.

It was an aimless sort of wandering, but that was the beauty of it all. There was nothing to be done, no task to be completed or deadline to be met. There was simply you and Brian, and the hidden corners of a foreign city, begging to be explored.

One such hidden corner involved a bookshop, and Brian was quick to pull you inside before you walked on by it.

You had almost not seen the place, shrouded by overgrown shrubbery riddled by the night-blooming jasmine. Indeed, Brian had not seen it either, but had noticed the aroma of the jasmine, and had glanced over his shoulder to catch sight of the rickety little shop.

Inside, there were books everywhere, stacks on the floor that stretched toward the ceiling in winding towers, shelves overcrowded with books both vertical and horizontal, tables and chairs occupied by novels and fairy tale collections in place of people.

Brian navigated the maze of the shop with purpose, and you smiled bemusedly.

“Anything in particular?” you asked him, as though you were the shop clerk.

He stopped briefly to wink at you. “Poesia,” he said.

You left the shop only ten minutes later, Brian with a tattered book beneath one arm. He led the way down the cliffs, until at last the sea shone before you once more, and the sand sparkled with moonlight like it was made of stars.

As the waves washed ashore and the sea breeze drifted in to accompany them, you looked up at Brian, who cast his eyes about the beach.

“Please tell me we’re not going swimming,” you said, to which he laughed.

“No, it’s a bit too dark for that. And with the way the waves are cresting right now, I’d say we would easily be carried out to sea, from one moment to the next.”

You blinked, puzzled. “So what are we doing?”

“Absolutely nothing at all.”

“Nothing?” you said, considering the purposeful way he had surveyed the beach.

“Well,” he stepped into the sand and pulled you with him, “not quite.” He smiled again, that lovely, secretive smile that was yours alone to witness; he never smiled that way for anyone but you. “Come on.”

He turned to his right, and you perceived a calmer swell of tide, mitigated by a small outcrop of rock which shielded the shore from the wilder waves.

Brian sank down into the sand and drew you with him, easing you down so that your head rested in his lap, and his hand in your hair.

You closed your eyes, as he opened the book and began to read softly, the hum of his words drawing you close to dance with your imagination, to see the lights and colours of the stories he spun, because even if you could not understand the language of which they were made, you could hear the intention, the emotion, of which they had been composed.

It occurred to you then that the most beautiful sound in the world was that of Brian’s voice. It was a striking thought, yet the realisation was so simple to you that it brought tears to your eyes to think that you should have been so lucky as to hear it. He spoke more beautifully than the wind could have hoped to speak, in its whispers through trees, more beautifully than the rush of the ocean could have dreamed to emulate, in its effervescent, ever-changing beauty. You would have given up anything, everything, to listen to him forever, for there was such love in the pensiveness with which he chose his words, such care in the fluidity of his speech, the melody of his song.

But then the lilt of his voice became suddenly unfamiliar, and you opened your eyes to find that he had diverted from the script of the book in his hand, and as his fingers ran through your hair, you realised that they were trembling.

“Brian,” you began softly, sitting up to take his hands in yours. He had stopped speaking entirely, and worry gripped you at the expression on his face— the bitten lip, the watery eyes. “Brian, what—”

But he shook his head, shushed you gently, and you closed your mouth, though your concern did not subside.

With a shuddering sigh, he began anew.

“Il mondo è bello,” he recited, “dal mare alle stelle, e se mi salvi, sarà nostro.”

“I don’t understand,” you murmured despairingly, but he pulled his hands from yours, and your gaze followed his movements as he picked up the book once more.

“Quindi, salvami, amore mio, e sposami.””

The pages fell open then, and at the perfect time, too, because you had been about to question him further, to impress upon him just how little of the Italian he spoke made any sense to you.

But betwixt the pages of the book, as answers often do, lay the only answer you needed.

A little jewel, shimmering atop the circle of a thin silver band.

A ring.

Your eyes abruptly filled with tears, and if you had been able to see more than blurry shapes before you, you would have sworn that Brian’s eyes did too.

His voice nearly failed him when next he spoke, a stutter in his throat to match the one which pulsed in your heart.

“The world is beautiful, from sea to stars, and if you save me, it will be ours. So save me, my love, and marry me.”

You could not speak, for the emotion that had thickened the air in your throat.

Maybe it was the ease with which he had spoken the words, because though he had stumbled through the Italian, there had not been even a glimmer of hesitance in his eyes as he had bid you marry him.

Maybe it was how he gazed at you now, the way you had never imagined anyone would gaze at you, or how he looked ready to surrender himself to shame, should you have said no.

Maybe you were just amazed. Amazed at how he loved you. Amazed by how little you understood of the world, in contrast with how certain you were that nothing would make you happier than to spend the rest of your life with Brian May.

“Will I marry you?” you repeated, as the smile flooded your lips and the tears your cheeks.

Brian nodded silently, his chest rising and falling in a way that betrayed his quickened heartbeat.

You nodded in return.

Brian drew nearer to you until the two of you were leaning forward in the sand, until his fingertips ghosted the sides of your face. “Please,” he murmured. “Please, will you say it?”

Your eyes fluttered closed and the world sank into darkness, for but the lightness of his touch. The word fell from your tongue.  

“Yes,” you said.

As the ring found its home upon your finger, the world spiraled out of touch with reality, for surely you must have been dreaming. The salt of your tears sweetened the taste of his mouth as he kissed you, with a tenderness even more beautiful than his words.

Yet, when you opened your eyes again, you knew that you could not be dreaming, because Brian still knelt before you, beneath the midnight moon of Positano.

And suddenly you understood what he had meant.

Because with your promise and his still tingling upon your lips, you knew that from sea to stars, the world would be forever yours.

⭒

a/n: my sincere apologies to anyone who actually speaks/understands italian. i neither speak not understand the language, but i had someone who does look over the grammar. i’m still not 100% sure that it’s right, but hey, i tried :)

[anonniemousefics]

The Trouble With Wanting

Originally posted on AO3

Fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom | Kaz + Inej

Word count: 5,745

***Rating: NSFW (aged up characters) - It’s a bit smutty. Like a 5 on the smut scale***

Synopsis: Inej begins to reckon with her own armor so she can have what, and who, she wants.

Inej Ghafa had a problem. Any one of her crew on The Wraith would have called it insomnia, and, honestly, that was the explanation she preferred. Insomnia would have innocent enough and treatable enough – a quick visit to a Healer at the next port could prescribe a potion that would put to rest the whole conundrum.

If it was as simple as insomnia, that is.

But nothing was ever that simple for Inej. Simple solutions are for simple people, she’d tell herself, trying to muster up some self-confidence in her captain’s cabin at night. Much of her life was far from simple, and she liked it that way. But this. This was eating her alive.

The waves rocked The Wraith through the night. The summer heat bore down all through the night, even with a porthole window ajar. And with the heat, and the sweat, the gentle sway of the boat, all she thought of was him.

Fuck. She pressed her palms into her eyes, whining for sleep. Fuck. She’d started this. She’d wanted this. I’ll have you without armor, she’d said, shoulders set in determination, or I won’t have you at all.

Kaz Brekker had taken those words to heart. Of course he had. He had always taken her words seriously. And she’d expected him to choose the armor.

But he hadn’t.

“So, what is happening, exactly?” It had been nearly a year since she’d asked him this exact question. They were huddled over a small table in a dark corner of The Crow Club, sharing a bottle of kvas after having checked her parents into an expensive hotel for their stay. She would be setting sail with them in the morning, headed for Ravka, their maiden voyage aboard The Wraith. Kaz had been nothing but a gentleman to her mother and father their entire stay, addressing them formally in his best (albeit broken) Suli, occasionally checking his tie. He had treated them to lavish dinners, far from the Barrel, and put them all up in a safe part of town.

But she would be leaving Ketterdam then, and they had not spoken since the docks about their plans to hunt slave traders. They had not spoken about how their fingers had entwined, that he’d taken off those damnable gloves, and what had that even meant?!

So she’d asked the question. “What is happening, exactly?” leaning into an elbow on the table, lifting her glass with the other. Thank the Saints for kvas. Would she have been able to push the issue without a little dose of the liquid courage?

“Do you still not know?” Kaz had set down his glass, leaning back in his seat with his other hand on his crow’s head cane. He was wearing those damn gloves again.

“You’re a free woman now, Inej,” he’d said.“Go where you please, do as you want.”

“I’m not a podge; I gathered that much,” she said. “I mean, this. This.” She gestured between the two of them, the great expanse of table between them, both too small and too wide all at once.  

At that, Kaz stiffened, his coffee-black gaze dipping away from hers for a brief moment. Nerves? Shame? What was it? Why was he so impossible to read?  

“What is it you want?” he rasped at last. That voice of his. Inej felt her breath hitch – nervous and something else.  

“I told you what I wanted,” she replied, feeling her face grow warm. “What is it you want?”

“What I want hasn’t changed.” It could have been the dim light of the Crow Club, but Inej could have sworn Kaz’s sharp cheekbones were reddening.

“You want me.” She repeated his words from all those months ago. It felt foreign to pry into Kaz this much. But she deserved to know. Without armor, that was the demand.

The muscle in his jaw ticked, like he was prepping for a fight. He picked up his glass, draining it entirely before saying another word.  

“I want,” he started, disjointed and awkward, “I want you – to want me.”

Now she knew her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. He was red in the face, and, for all of his rough edges and sharp angles, he was still a boy, in front of the girl he wanted and felt he couldn’t have.  

“I do want you,” she breathed, and then Kaz was checking every face around them, casing their surroundings, as if suddenly overly concerned about who was overhearing. But the Crow Club’s patrons were far off, engaged at gambling tables or raucous drinks at the bar. Kaz and Inej were quite alone.  

“You want the sea,” he corrected, not meeting her gaze.  

“Don’t tell me what I want,” Inej interrupted.  

“You said you wanted the sea.” Kaz turned his dark eyes back at her fiercely. “You wanted to fight. You wanted to save girls like you. And you should. You are good and dangerous and glorious, and now you are free. Do what you want, or Ghezen help me, I’ll fight you right here.”  

But Inej just smirked.  

“I never said I wanted you or the sea, Kaz,” she said. “I’m a free woman now, and I’ll have you and the sea and every other wonderful treasure I can lift from life’s coat pockets.”

Kaz was pressing back a crooked smile.

“Spoken like a true privateer,” he said, almost wistful, almost proud. It was truly an overwhelming amount of affection coming from Kaz Brekker, and all Inej wanted in that moment was to see him smile more.  

“I’ll be needing a cheeky parrot for my shoulder to complete the ensemble,” she quipped.  

“And an eye patch,” Kaz added, and it was Inej’s turn to grin.

“And a drinking problem,” she said, lifting her drink, and Kaz leaned forward with his to clink their glasses together in a toast. The sight of his quirk of a smile over her glass was enough to make her heart swell in her chest, and by the time they set their glasses down again, she felt she had to say it once more.  

“I want you without armor, Kaz.”  

And part of her expected him to run, to recoil into that darkness within himself he loved and hated so much. That he would choose the certainty and safety of it over whatever might lie beyond.

But instead, he ran his gloves fingers on the rim of his glass, absentmindedly, thinking, stewing. Not quite scheming. Just considering. And when he looked at her, there was the spark of something hopeful and daring in his gaze. He started to nod slowly, and a lock of his dark hair slipped forward, like he was already coming undone.

“Without armor,” he repeated.

Was that a yes? It certainly wasn’t a no. He could be coy like this when striking a deal. Was he running a con or scared out of his wits? Infuriating. Infuriating and still Inej wanted him.

“Did you buy me the ship because you thought I want the sea more than I want you?” she tested.

“I bought you the ship because you deserve the ship.”

“And my parents? And my debt?”  

“Ketterdam owed you those long ago. If I could have sooner --”

“You say things like that, and I can’t decide if I should throttle you or kiss you senseless, Kaz.”

Kaz huffed a casual ghost of a laugh, but Inej noticed his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously above the collar buttons of his pristine white shirt. His gloved hand tightened on the crow’s head cane, the leather creaking.  

“What is it?” she asked. Kaz took another gulp of his drink. He was doing his level best to appear unruffled, she realized.

“The suspense is killing me,” he rasped, his lips in that crooked smile. “Whatever will you choose, Inej.”  

And that’s when she decided: she was going to kiss that stupid smirk off his face. Not here. No. He didn’t deserve the kind of havoc that would wreak on his life, the kind of danger revealing that kind of weakness could bring to his doorstep. Neither did she, for that matter. Instead, she drained the last of the kvas, and stood up, Kaz’s dark eyes following her every move.  

“Meet me in The Slat,” she told him, and reveled at the way Kaz’s jaw slackened, his pink lips parting just slightly. She’d surprised him, surprised the Bastard of the Barrel himself, and the rush that came from that kind of power never got old.  

Just remembering what came next made Inej groan in dismay in her bunk. She flopped an arm over her eyes, desperate to scrub the embarrassment from rising again. Why did her memory plague her at night like this? What did she do to deserve this kind of nightly torment? Some part of her hoped Kaz was just as miserable; it only seemed fair.

She left the Crow Club through the front door, making it appear to anyone watching that she and Kaz were headed in separate directions for the night. But once in the shadows, she’d scaled a drainpipe and hoisted herself onto his window ledge, giving the window a quick heave before slipping soundlessly inside. When she turned around, Kaz was already locking the door behind him.

Her heart rammed against her ribcage at the sight of him. He was slipping off his coat, then one glove at a time, and while his face remained expressionless, his chest heaved and his nostrils flared. This man, this ruthless, dangerous man, who’d killed for her and conned for her, this man was breathless with nerves at the very thought of touching her again. But then, who was she to judge? Her fingers trembled when she pushed a lock of hair behind her ear that had escaped her braid.

It was madness. All she’d really wanted was to hold his hand one last time before she set sail in the morning. She’d never thought that greed could get the best of her, but Kaz Brekker’s tendencies had a way of rubbing off on you. Greed perhaps was one of them.

She started to cross the room to him, thrilled by the sight of his bare hands, his dark furrowed brows in the moonlight. The armor was coming off. Rip it off like an old bandage, she thought.

She had mistakenly assumed it would hurt less this way.

“You want me,” she said again. The air around them was changing. The room felt heady, murkier. Like moving through a dream.

Kaz nodded.

“Say it,” Inej said.

“I want you,” Kaz rasped. He was breathing hard, rooted to where he stood.  

She should have seen the signs.

She felt dizzy as she closed the distance between them, but she tried to ignore it. They’d held hands in the open air; this shouldn’t be any more difficult than that. She reached out, running a hand along his black waistcoat. She could feel the hard planes of his chest beneath, and the floor seemed to pitch beneath her feet.

Rip off the bandage. Saints, rid us of this armor.

“Inej,” he whispered.

Before she could think, she grabbed the neck of his waistcoat, pulling him closer. His black eyes flew open wide.

“Wait--” Kaz started to say as their lips met. Panic immediately seized at Inej’s chest, ice cold and contracting so that she gasped. When was the last time she had been close like this with a man? She didn’t want to think that. She didn’t want to remember—

At the same moment, Kaz groaned against her mouth, something between desire and pain. One of his hands was sliding around her waist, gripping hard against the small of her back, and at the sensation, Inej felt herself start to buckle. Memories were coming back fast and fierce now, of unwanted hands, of ruthless, cruel smiles, the horrible stench, the pain, the ripping, deep pain—

Something clattered to the floor. Kaz’s cane. Somewhere above her, Kaz grunted in obvious pain now, his bad leg giving way as they both stumbled backward awkwardly. It was only getting worse. At the feel of his body against hers, his hips meeting hers, her body reacted entirely on its own. She froze, feeling herself leave her body, disappearing into darkness. This was happening to someone else, someone broken, someone who didn’t care.

When she finally became aware of her surroundings again, she was huddled on the floor by the locked front door, shaking uncontrollably with her wet face buried in her arms. Crying. Kaz was nowhere to be seen. Something of a relief, really. She was alone, and no one could hurt her.

But then she heard the sound of deep retching from somewhere else in the room, and she looked up through blurry eyes. She blinked away tears as best she could, but couldn’t stop the sobs. This was insane. What kind of privateer cried in a puddle on the floor after kissing a man?

“Inej.” Kaz’s voice was thicker than usual, his rasp harsh like a strained whisper. He was on the floor, too, leaning against his bedframe next to his washbasin. His dark hair fell across his sweat-beaded forehead, and the whites of his eyes were bloodshot.

“I’m fine,” Inej choked. She ran a sleeve across her nose and gulped in deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

“You’re crying.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Come here.”

“You’re vomiting.”

Kaz heaved a deep sigh. He stretched his long legs out of front of him, flopping his head back against the bedframe and staring at the ceiling.  

“I should have--” he started.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Inej interrupted. She was unwilling to hear apologies for something she’d started.

“What were you thinking?” Kaz asked. It wasn’t accusatory, which was refreshing. When she looked at him again, he looked exhausted, wiping back sweat from his face. That kissable face. This was torture.  

“I thought this could be easier since you managed to take off your gloves,” she said. Kaz only grunted with a nod, as if to agree it wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion.

“But you.” Now he looked at her with a pained expression she’d never seen before, and it made her ache. “I am clearly particularly poisonous to you,” he said.

Inej immediately started shaking her head.

“Kaz.” She was frustrated at his self-deprecation. “Please understand. My mind wants you. My heart longs for you. My body…” She struggled for words, the shame rising again, threatening her eyes with tears. “My body isn’t entirely convinced something horrible isn’t going to happen again. This wasn’t because of you. You understand that, don’t you?”

She silently pleaded with him, tears still glistening in her eyes. But Kaz only swallowed, his dark eyes sadder than she recalled ever seeing them.  

“More than you know,” he said.

She knew bits of his story, enough that she understood his armor. He hadn’t vomited at her kiss. He had vomited because his skin could not forget the touch of dead flesh; his eyes saw dead bodies where there were none. His body was just as rebellious as hers. They stared at each other a moment, unsure of what to do next, spent from tears and retched kvas.

“This is hopeless,” Kaz finally relinquished.  

This only annoyed Inej more, and she frowned at him. Kaz Brekker didn’t give up. Kaz Brekker made the rules. Kaz Brekker owned his world.

She unfurled her own legs, stretching across the distance between them, and nudged at his ankle until he looked at her. It was about all the contact either of them could stand in the moment, but it was still comforting.  

“If you can’t beat the odds,” she threw his own words back at him, “change the game.”  

“Hm,” Kaz grunted, unconvinced. “What podge said that?”

“Some guy I know.”

“He sounds terribly good-looking.”  

“He’s no idiot either.” And Inej offered up a weak smile that should have passed as flirting in better circumstances. Kaz met it with his own tired smirk. It was something. It could be enough for now.  

And that’s when they both had decided they weren’t giving up on this – whatever this was. She would be returning to port in Ketterdam in two months after that maiden voyage, and they determined their schemes to remain in touch, to track and disrupt slavers by day, and in secret, when she was on land, they would try to take off the armor. Little by little. Bit by bit. It was a patient strategy they were both familiar with.

But it wasn’t long at all before Inej began to eat the words of her own demand. Without armor. Fair was fair, after all – she’d demanded it of Kaz, she owed it to him, too. But with each visit, each stolen kiss, each gentle touch, it became clear what her own armor had protected. She groaned now to even think it, frustrated beyond words.

Arousal.

Awakening.

She had been so young when she had been thrown into the clutches of The Menagerie. She hadn’t even kissed a boy before that, not really. Her first experiences had been of fear, coercion, unrelenting pain, and, finally, escape within her own mind. And now, any time her body began to respond to Kaz’s touch, his lock pick fingers, his soft mouth, this armor clamped down tight. It could happen any time, without warning. When his gentle fingers brushed over her cheek. When his lips grazed the shell of her ear. She wanted; Saints, how she wanted him. Perhaps this was justice from her Saints for the lives she had taken – to want someone so badly and be tormented each time she tried for what she desired.

Of everything Ketterdam had taken from her, this was perhaps the worst.

For all his shortcomings, her battle was one Kaz understood all too well. He fought his own, shuddering each time their skin brushed for the first time in awhile. She would notice the deep breaths he swallowed to calm himself, the molasses-slow movements he made to prepare himself before he tried anything. It wasn’t all for her benefit, though she needed it as much as he did. Every touch he managed was triumph, which only made her own failures sting even worse.

Her last visit to Ketterdam was what had left her in knots, deprived her of precious sleep. He had gotten under her skin, into her very soul. As long as she had work to do during the day, she could put it out of her mind. But here, in the lonely night, rocked by the waves, it couldn’t be avoided.

It had been a year since their ill-fated first kiss – was it too soon to say she loved him? The very fact she worried over the question made her think it wasn’t. She wouldn’t say it, but she did. Damnit.

She’d known it the last time she’d set foot in his city, too. That was the night they had taken down a particularly hard-to-catch trafficker, a slimy, sick demon Inej had spent the better part of six months tracking. Kaz had worked hard gathering the intel she needed, and the two of them had taken him out that night. Left him bleeding out on the steps of the Stadwatch with a warning message pinned to his chest. They’d scaled the drainpipe back to The Slat, bloodstained and breathless with adrenaline and righteous fury.

She turned back to Kaz as he closed the window behind him, a laugh bubbling up from within her. They’d done it. The job was done. She could hardly believe it. The look he gave her when he heard her laugh made her feel more precious than kruge.  

“Thank you,” she panted, still trying to catch her breath. Her top was damp, from sweat or the man’s blood, she wasn’t sure. “This could not have happened without you.”  

“It would never have happened at all without you,” said Kaz. He was pulling at his gloves, and she was already itching to weave her hands through his long fingers, map each tendon, the bump of each knuckle. She knew his hands now as well as she knew her own.

But he didn’t go for her hands this time. Instead, he stepped closer and cupped her face in his bare hands. They were softer than she would have expected someone called Dirtyhands would be. Glove-wearing had that effect.

This time, when he brushed his thumbs across her cheekbones, her body didn’t try to run. She could stand in his adoration, holding her hands over his.  

“You are extraordinary,” he told her, his breathless pants warming her face. This was her Kaz. He wouldn’t say beautiful or anything that remotely sounded like words men who had once paid for her said. He said extraordinary, and he wanted only for her to know it, to believe it herself.  

And when their lips met this time, there was no threat of darkness, no need to escape. She felt him draw in a sharp breath, and she waited to see if he would recoil. But he only pushed his fingers further, burying them into her hair at the nape of her neck.

And this time she wasn’t afraid. No, this was something else. Desire spread through her, warming instead of constricting, pulsing instead of shutting down. Her hands were running down his torso, pulling at the crest of his hips, and neither one of them were running. Just the opposite.

More, her body said. More, his lips urged.

She could taste him now, the brush of his tongue against her bottom lip, and she pulled him in closer, her eyes falling closed, losing herself in him as much as she dared. One of his hands had stayed wound in her hair, but the other began to slip down her spine, pushing her in to him. She was flush with his body, something she had only dreamed of desiring, and still it wasn’t enough.

More. More.

Her lungs ached, and she pulled back to draw in a breath, her eyes fluttering open to take him in. Kaz’s dark hair was loose over his thick brows, and his eyes – Saints, the man looked starved. Pupils blown wide in the moonlight; his collar unbuttoned and askew.

“Enough?” he asked. It was a tender question, meant to check on her wellbeing. But it wasn’t enough. Not in the slightest.  

She wanted to push the armor, unhook what trappings she could, see where it took her. This was already more than she’d dared to hope for months ago. She was only a little dizzy, only slightly out of breath. Her desire far outweighed the small discomfort.

She took Kaz’s hand from her hair, lacing his fingers through hers. Those hands. A beautiful paradox, they were. Gentle enough to pick any lock, ruthless enough to strangle the life out of a man. She didn’t fear them, not what they did, not what they were capable of. She only wanted them.  

Kaz watched her in mild confusion, perhaps amusement, while she looked over his hands, thinking, moving slowly. And then she slipped her fingers to encircle his wrist and gently moved his hand to cup her breast.  

Any amusement on Kaz’s face fell away in a moment of awe. His chest hitched up, shocked. Had he ever held a woman like this before? Knowing his demons, surely not.  

She let her hand fall away from his wrist, and for a moment, Kaz didn’t move, like he didn’t dare. His eyes wouldn’t budge from her face, as if waiting for any sign that this would upset her. But she felt powerful, encouraged by how she could render this dangerous man speechless. And she smiled at him, sliding her own hands up the wide breadth of his shoulders, pulling him closer once more.

Kaz’s breathing was shallow, but not panicked, as he finally dropped his gaze to what he now held. He moved his fingers experimentally, his lips parting. Inej felt her whole body warm, practically alight, when his thumb grazed her nipple.

“Fuck,” was all he whispered, and Inej held back a laugh. She looped her fingers around his neck, her nails grazing where his hair was shaved shorter, and pulled his lips back to hers.  

His kiss this time was like nothing before. It was like a wave finally crashing onto shore. Passionate, verging on unhinged. His mouth parted as he kneaded her breast, and she tasted his salty-sweet tongue before gently nipping his bottom lip, eliciting the tiniest sound from the back of his throat. This was nothing like The Menagerie. This was Kaz. Her Kaz. Kaz who would never take from her without asking, would never receive unless he could give back in equal measure.

His hand was splayed open across her back, holding her close, and, as he started to stumble on his bad leg, unsteady in their embrace, he slid his arm around her waist so that they were braced together. She could feel his smile against her lips, the smile she could never get enough of, and she stumbled, too, until he was pressing her against the edge of his desk.

But then, without warning, his hand dropped from her breast. He slid both hands to her waist, lifting her onto his desk, before covering her mouth in kisses again. She was suddenly dizzy again and slipped a hand back to brace herself on the desk.

“Kaz--” She pulled back and tried to whisper.  

“Inej,” he rasped back. Saints. Damn this armor. She had to keep wanting him, she needed—  

And then his hand was on her breast again, gently cupping, softly grazing, and she was breathless. His lips were working up the side of her neck, nipping at her earlobe, sending shivers across her skin, and it should have been perfect.

But it wasn’t. The armor was closing in. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

Until he stepped between her parted legs, drawing ever closer, and she felt it press against the inside of her thigh. Every hard inch of him. And it was as if something inside of her snapped.

“Kaz!” she shouted, and, in spite of herself, she shoved his chest, hard, pushing him off of her. He staggered back, shocked and disheveled, and when his bad leg buckled, he sat hard on the edge of the bed.

Sankta Alina, how he’d looked at her that night, that horrible moment.

“I don’t understand,” he had said, looking dumbfounded, as she began to sink to the floor. Even remembering it made her want to cry again. But she wouldn’t.

She was sure there was no coming back from it. That would be the end of their failed experiment. She was meant only for killing men, not loving them. She would live alone for the rest of her days. The ecstasy other girls spoke of was probably overrated anyway.

She slipped to the floor, overcome with horrible memories and new regrets, as the tears sprung to her eyes.

For a few agonizing minutes, the only sounds in The Slat were Inej’s muffled sobs.

“You wanted me to…” Kaz started to say.

“I know I did.” Inej was miserable.

“But then I did something wrong.” Kaz shifted uncomfortably on the bed. Likely still adjusting to the discomfort of a now-useless erection. Inej had never hated herself more.

“You didn’t,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I’m all wrong. I’m broken. This horrible city broke this part of me. I want this, Kaz; you don’t know how much I want this--”  

“I might have an inkling,” Kaz groaned, shifting again, resting an arm over his lap.

“I don’t know how to fight this,” and Inej buried her face in her hands.

“We are fighting this,” Kaz insisted. “We have been fighting this. A battle of wits always lasts longer than a battle of brute strength. This is a long con we’re running, Wraith. Don’t you dare give up on me now.”

She looked up through her tears at his earnest face. It was the same face that pulled her up from the ground when her exhausted arms couldn’t fight one more minute. The face that was always one step ahead of his enemies. The face she loved. She did, after all. She loved him.

She nodded once, wiping off her cheek with the fabric on her wrist.

“Knives drawn, pistols blazing,” she sniffed, half-heartedly.

“Innuendo, Wraith?” Kaz gave her a cheeky smirk. “A bit too soon, don’t you think?”

She did laugh outright at that, and Kaz gave her that crooked smile that could always bring her back to life.

“It was hardly a year ago, and you were vomiting into that washbasin just from kissing me,” Inej said. “How are you doing this? Why is this easier for you?”  

Kaz paused, raking his fingers through his dark hair as he thought.

“I suppose my body believes different lies than yours,” he said. “You’ve got some demons that are harder to kill.”

Inej nodded in agreement. It made sense.

“That and I – how do I put this lightly?” Kaz averted his gaze, looking up at the ceiling. “I polish my knife, you could say?”

Inej spat out a laugh. Such a Crow. No manners in the least.

“Laugh if you want,” Kaz smirked, “but the practice can’t hurt. Are you practicing?”

“Knife-polishing?” Inej raised an eyebrow. “Wait, mine needs a different name.”

Speaking as plainly as this was already helping. Inej could feel her shoulders loosen.

“Cleaning your sheath?” Kaz offered, with a shrug. “Do you clean your sheath?”

“Saints, Kaz!” Inej laughed, her head thrown back. And Kaz couldn’t hide his grin.

She’d laughed, but it became the next scheme in their long con against their rebellious bodies. Perhaps if Inej wasn’t afraid of awakening herself, it would be less frightening when it happened with Kaz. It wasn’t the most insane plan they’d ever come up with.

Inej wrote Nina Zenik for advice before The Wraith even left port, with specific instructions about where to post the reply so she could receive it at their next stop. She could only imagine what her old friend’s reaction to this sort of letter would be.

Unsurprisingly, Nina’s reply was not shy. She was not one for innuendo and had enclosed a detailed, bullet-point list of everything Inej ought to try on her own to conquer this horrible reaction to arousal. Inej couldn’t read two sentences without blushing. She’d hidden the letter in her pack, had considered its contents for nearly a week without any action whatsoever.

But the insomnia wouldn’t relent. Each night, she lie awake with unmet desire, her thoughts swirling with memories of Kaz instead of memories of her past. They would be returning to Ketterdam within a week, and all she wanted was to be able to not push Kaz away again. She couldn’t bear another look like the one he’d given her that last night.

She had to try. She had to let herself go and feel without looking for an escape. She was alone now, after all. Safe, in control. No one to lay a hand on her.

She took in a long inhale and let it out slowly as she let her fingers wander to her center, at first just over her trousers. Nina had insisted it wouldn’t work if she forced it. Now she tells me, Inej had thought, grimly remembering that first night her kiss had made Kaz vomit.

She drew lazy circles over herself, following Nina’s suggested, and slowly, Inej’s lips started to part. There was nothing painful about this at all. She felt lovely. Her mind could wander off while her body welcomed the new gentle touch.

And she thought of Kaz, as Nina had instructed, of everything she wanted about him. His crooked smile. The stubble that grew on his chin after a few days of travel. That haircut no one else could pull off. His sharp cheekbones, his perfect mouth. She could think of many places she wished that mouth could be. Her fingers travelled a little further, a little faster, slipping underneath her trousers, at the thought.

Who was she kidding? She wanted that mouth at her breasts, those clever fingers working over more sensitive parts of her. She wanted him to grip her waist, her ass, to nip at her neck and rasp her name into her ear. She was gasping, warm and flushed. If her own fingers could feel this good, what would his be like?

She wanted to know.

She had to know.

With her pleasure rising, she was suddenly welcoming new ideas, daring to demand more from her own body. If it could feel like this, she could unbutton his shirt. She could let him unbutton hers. His fingers would probably shake. She loved that about him. Would he let her undo his belt? Could she dare to be completely naked with him? Would he dare?

Saints, she wanted him. She closed her eyes tightly, her mouth slack, and all she could think of was him hovering above her, his soft mouth all over her, his fingers caressing her slick clit until her whole body shook.

She bit her lip, biting back his name. Perhaps she wouldn’t when he was there. Pleasure was building through her abdomen, pushing her closer to a cliff she desperately wanted to fall off of. Was he saying her name when he did this to himself, too? Oh, the thought undid her completely.

And Inej cried out, losing herself entirely to the new sensations that flooded her body, and then pressed the back of her hand to her mouth while she floated among the stars. It wouldn’t do at all to have one of her crew come and check on her now. This was not something she needed to explain. It was bad enough Nina knew.

One thing was for sure. It wasn’t overrated. Not a bit.

Inej pressed a hand to her sternum as she caught her breath, her heart pounding against her palm. Her eyes began to drift close as her breathing evened out. Sleep was closing in, a smile on her lips.

Inej Ghafa had a problem. Well, no, Inej Ghafa had several problems. Didn’t everybody? Tonight, at least, she would rest in the knowledge that not one of them would get the best of her. Not today.

Read the companion piece here.

[megalony]

The Evans boys- Part 4

Here is the latest part of my Chris Evans series, I hope everyone is enjoying the series so far. Feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog​

Series taglist: @ihearthockeyy​ @lizzyclifford13-blog​ @may-machin @tessa-bl @ifilosemyselfagain​

Series masterlist

Summary: Chris and (Y/n) have four boys together and are finally expecting a girl, but their family is hectic and things get harder when (Y/n) becomes ill.

Enjoy.

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"I think we're gonna have to bring that appointment forward, doll." Chris' tentative but still worried words flooded through (Y/n)'s ears as she kept her eyes closed and her head tipped forward, her body leaning over the sink in case she was going to be sick. A small hum of agreement vibrated against (Y/n)'s closed lips because she couldn't disagree.

Leaning forward, Chris rested his chin on (Y/n)'s shoulder so he could look at her as his arms tangled themselves around her waist so his chest was pressed up against her back. They had an appointment with the midwife in three days but Chris knew they needed one now before (Y/n) felt any worse.

Her back was finally beginning to ease up and let her walk and sleep with significantly less pain than before but eating was still very much a big problem. (Y/n) could hardly eat anything without feeling sick and she had almost no appetite. Even the supplements that the midwife had given her weren't doing much good because they were like powdered milk that had to be added to water and it made (Y/n) sick. Simply taking the vitamins and few other tablets the midwife prescribed weren't enough.

"I'll ring up to change it first thing tomorrow." (Y/n) nodded in agreement and slowly opened her eyes when she felt like she was calming down. Reaching her hand out, she took the glass from Chris that he was holding out to her and took a small sip of the water that contained the supplement powder. But (Y/n) quickly set the glass back down again when she felt her stomach churning.

She knew the drink was supposed to help boost her levels and her intake but something about it made (Y/n) feel sick. It had a horrible taste and texture and she couldn't keep much of it down. Leaning her head forward into the sink, (Y/n) coughed as she felt like her throat was tightening up as she spat out the water she couldn't even swallow.

"I'm gonna go and get Milo changed for bed, I think you need to sit down for a bit." Chris spoke up when he knew that (Y/n) was finished being sick and she didn't look like she was going to pass out then and there. He leaned forward to press a kiss to her cheek before he pulled away and left the kitchen when (Y/n) sat down at the kitchen table.

(Y/n) wasn't going to disagree because she knew Chris was right, she was hardly eating anything at all and she knew she was still losing weight. She was seven months pregnant and right now eating almost nothing at all was going to put the baby in danger and neither (Y/n) nor Chris wanted that to happen.

After a little while, (Y/n) sighed before she pushed herself back to her feet and walked over to the sink. The dishes still needed to be cleaned and put away.

"Dad said it's my turn to do the dishes." Levi's voice cut through the air as he walked up beside (Y/n) who moved over so he could start to wash the pots.

"You can help me then." (Y/n) reached over and grabbed the towel to start drying the dishes, a small smile on her face when she caught Levi's eye. Sometimes the eldest never minded doing any chores around the house, but there were times when he just didn't have the energy or he was in a mood and he would be very grumpy and unsociable whilst he was doing what he was told. He never argued when he was told to do something by Chris and he didn't put up much of a fuss when (Y/n) told him to do something either.

(Y/n) tried to smile as Levi started telling her about a movie he had watched last night but she just couldn't seem to get her mind to focus. Levi was enthusiastic about films and (Y/n) loved when he would tell her about a new film he was into watching or a tv series. When Levi started to watch the Marvel movies he seemed to become overwhelmed and entranced by them, especially when he saw Chris on the screen.

But Levi's words were turning into static in (Y/n)'s ears and she could feel her skin beginning to prickle with heat that made her feel like she was slowly beginning to burn up.

A gasp escaped (Y/n)'s lips when the plate in her hands slipped through her fingers like it was melting butter that dribbled through the gaps. Her body froze but her hands started to shake as her eyes focused on watching the plate. The slippery porcelain plate bounced against the tiled floor and rebounded again but when the edge bashed into the cupboard beneath the sink, the dish splintered and broke apart like crumbs.

"L-leave it, I'll clean it." (Y/n)'s voice was quieter than she wanted it to be and she could hear how it was beginning to shake. She reached her arm out in front of Levi to stop him from trying to pick up the broken pieces that varied in size and all had jagged edges. She didn't want him to cut himself on any of the fragments.

"Mum it's okay, I've got it." Levi's voice held a lot of concern but also a sense of calmness. His eyes locked with her own as he tried to force a smile, taking her hand in his for a moment as he wondered if she was alright. He had smashed a few glasses before and he had cleaned them up without cutting himself, he could clean this for her.

When Levi tried to let go of (Y/n)'s hand so he could bend down to clean the broken plate, his eyes shot up to look at her when she seemed to let go of his hand but then reconsider and quickly reach out for him. Her fingers curled around his wrist with a demanding force that gained his full attention but he realised she wasn't looking at him. (Y/n) seemed to be looking at the broken plate on the floor, but then again her mind seemed to be elsewhere.

"Mum, what's wrong? Mum!" The thirteen year old felt like his heart had exploded in his chest when he lurched forward to try and hold onto (Y/n) when her knees caved in beneath her. Her free hand was gripping the sink so tightly Levi could almost feel her nails scratching into the metal.

A choked breath escaped Levi's lips as he pushed himself against the counter to try and keep himself upright so he could pull (Y/n) up to stop her from falling down onto the broken shards at their feet. He couldn't tell if (Y/n) had fainted or if she just suddenly seemed to lose all of her energy but he did know that he couldn't hold her up on his own for much longer.

"Charlie, g-go get dad now." Levi struggled to get the words out when his mind seemed to be short-circuiting but he felt like screaming when he noticed his brother just stood watching like a fish with his eyes blown wide. "Go and get dad, mum isn't well!" When Levi raised his voice it seemed to spark something in Charlie and he suddenly bolted from the doorway of the kitchen and disappeared to go and find Chris. "Mum, please... please..." He didn't quite know what he was asking of (Y/n) but he just needed her to do something.

A groan left his lips as he knew he couldn't hold (Y/n) up anymore and he almost whined when he had to let his knees buckle and allow himself to fall down. He tried his best to ease (Y/n) down with him but he couldn't really break her fall very much. Just as (Y/n)'s head fell against Levi's shoulder, he heard the unmistakable sound of Chris' footsteps bounding down the stairs.

Panic was covering every inch of Levi's face the moment Chris skidded into the kitchen and bolted over to his side. The actor wasted no time in crouching down next to the pair, trying to figure out what was going on since all Charlie had managed to say was that (Y/n) seemed to have fallen.

"What happened?!" Reaching over, Chris wasted no time in wrapping his arms around (Y/n) just under her arms so he could ease her weight from Levi so he wasn't struggling to hold her up anymore. Chris kept one arm around (Y/n)'s waist and pressed his other hand to her neck so he could tilt her head and see if she was awake or not but it was clear she had passed out.

"I- I don't know, she dropped the plate and just fainted."

"Alright it's okay, mind the glass and move out the way now, I've got her." Chris gently moved (Y/n)'s head so her head was resting on his shoulder before he slumped her body against his chest to allow him to pull her up to keep her from the glass on the floor. "Buddy, you can let go of her, I've got her I swear. Let go." Chris looked over at Levi and slowly nodded his head to reassure his eldest that he didn't have to hold (Y/n) up anymore. Chris had her secured against him, she wouldn't collapse when Levi pulled back.

Levi slowly pulled his arms back to his sides, noticing the way Chris didn't even seem fazed or like he was even the slightest bit strained by holding (Y/n) up. Grabbing onto the sink, Levi pulled himself to shaking legs and took a few cautious steps away from both the glass and his parents to give them some room.

"Alright, come on doll." Chris whispered the words under his breath as he leaned (Y/n) back against his left arm before moving his other hand so he could feel her pulse which seemed to be rather quick. He could also feel just how hot her skin was to the touch and the blood rushing to the surface of her skin.

Seeing that (Y/n) just seemed to have fainted and nothing worse, Chris hooked one arm under her legs and kept the other around her back before he slowly and carefully stood up. He made sure her head stayed on his shoulder and didn't fall back as not to hurt her neck before his eyes fell over to Levi just to make sure he was okay. The eldest was scratching at his arm out of nervous habit but he was okay. Turning around, Chris slowly headed over to the conservatory since he knew Luca was in the living room and he didn't want the other boys witnessing this.

Making his way over to the sofa, Chris slowly lowered himself down to his knees so he could lay (Y/n) down. Moving himself around, Chris sat on the wooden floor, bringing his knees up to his stomach as he turned his head to look over at (Y/n). He gently reached out and started to trace his thumb over her cheek, knowing she would begin to wake up soon. Fainting spells never lasted very long and he had been with (Y/n) long enough to witness her having quite a few over the years.

Running his other hand through his hair, Chris internally sighed because he knew (Y/n) wasn't going to be happy when he said he was going to take her to the hospital tonight. But there was no way they could wait until morning because (Y/n) would either say she didn't need to go any more or she would feel a lot worse. Chris couldn't wait and see what happened because (Y/n) was clearly running on last reserves and that meant she and the baby both weren't well.

He had to take her to hospital tonight.

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"After the doctor comes round, you have to go home." (Y/n) tried to sound like she was giving Chris an order but she only sounded like she was very desperate and pleading for him to agree with her.

(Y/n) had been in no position to disagree with Chris when he brought her in last night, she hardly remembered anything after collapsing last night in the kitchen. But she knew Chris had stayed with her all night and now it was almost dinner time and he hadn't gone home yet to be with the boys who Chris' mother was kindly watching for them. After the doctor came to talk to them and see where they went from here, (Y/n) needed Chris to go home and look after the boys. Milo and Luca both hated it if (Y/n) and Chris went away for longer than a few hours and they both knew Levi and Charlie wouldn't be very settled or calm either.

Chris knew Levi had been in shock last night and he was a worrier, he wouldn't believe Lisa when she told him that (Y/n) was doing okay. He would want to hear it from Chris.

"Alright, I'll go be with the boys right after the doctor leaves, I promise." Reaching over, Chris took (Y/n)'s hand in his and entangled their fingers together, needing her to be calm and relaxed because a raised blood pressure wouldn't do her any favours.

(Y/n) studied Chris' expression for a few moments before she nodded, satisfied that he was telling the truth and not just saying that to stop an argument.

Tipping her head back against the pillow, (Y/n) let her eyes wander the room for a while, trying to take everything in. She had been put on an IV drip the moment she arrived and she'd now been put on another this morning because she didn't have nearly enough fluids or nutrients that she needed. The nurse last night had tried to get her to eat something but all (Y/n) had wanted to do was go to sleep and this morning she hadn't been up to eating anything.

(Y/n) was relieved Chris had brought her to the hospital because she didn't feel very good in herself. Her head was swimming to the point (Y/n) felt like she was drowning with no way out.

(Y/n) came out of her thoughts when the door opened and both her and Chris looked to see the doctor walking into the room with a kind smile. The doctor had to talk to Chris last night rather than (Y/n) with how drowsy and sick (Y/n) had felt. When (Y/n) woke up this morning and was coherent enough to talk and listen, Chris had explained everything and (Y/n) had almost cried in relief when he said their baby girl was okay. Granted, she wasn't getting as much nutrients as she needed which was affecting her heartbeat and her size, but she wasn't in immediate danger and they weren't about to lose her.

"How do you feel this morning Mrs Evans? You're more responsive than you were last night." The doctor made herself busy by checking (Y/n)'s vitals and the IV drip, making sure the needle was still taped in place and taking note of how much fluids (Y/n) had intaken so far.

"I still feel sick." (Y/n) slowly pushed herself so she was sitting up a bit straighter, managing a smile when Chris took her hand in his again.

"We're going to start you on some protein drinks for that and we'll try and slowly get you to start eating more. Right now you're on a monitored drip for painkillers to help the slipped disc and that should help you with you're appetite." They had to give (Y/n) some drinks and small foods to get her to eat properly because right now she was a risk with not eating anything. And the monitored painkillers straight into her vein rather than going through her stomach and system might help get her appetite back and dull the pain in her back quicker.

"I tried supplement drinks the midwife gave me, I couldn't hold them down." (Y/n) wanted to try whatever the doctor suggested to get her better again but she wasn't having any drinks if they were the same as what the midwife had given her.

"These ones will be different, don't worry. But we really have to start you on that as soon as possible, I understand you haven't been eating for over two weeks?" (Y/n) dipped her head down for a moment but she nodded in response, she knew she had to start eating soon and she had to get her appetite back or the baby would be in danger.

But (Y/n) didn't know how when she felt physically sick whenever food was in front of her and she had no appetite. Her stomach wasn't churning or growling or in pain when she didn't eat and she wasn't in pain from feeling starved, she felt drained but no appetite. (Y/n) had never felt like this before, she'd never not had an appetite like this.

"When will I be able to go home?" (Y/n) turned her head to look at Chris when he tugged on his hand, a certain look on his face as he shook his head. He knew as well as she did that going home wasn't an option with her being this sick and not eating. If (Y/n) came home within the next day or two she would simply go back to not eating anything and feeling as bad as she did last night.

When (Y/n) looked back at the doctor, there was an empathetic smile on her features as her lips were pulled tight.

"Mrs Evans... we can't discharge you until we know you're managing to eat and keep food down and your and the baby's levels are normal and that will take at least a week or more. Right now the baby's heartbeat is uneven and you're at risk and if we let you go you're at risk of losing the baby. If your levels go down any worse you could slip into a coma."

(Y/n) could lose the baby or go into premature labour with how ill she was becoming and whether that happened or not, if her levels and nutrients dropped any lower her body would go into a coma to try and sustain her body and her organs.

Closing her eyes, (Y/n) leaned her head against Chris' when he leaned over to press a kiss to her cheek. He knew that wasn't what (Y/n) wanted to hear, no one wanted to be stuck in hospital and (Y/n) didn't want to be away from any of her boys for a week. But at the same time, being here was going to help and it meant (Y/n) and their girl were going to be okay and looked after. Chris wanted (Y/n) to stay because he knew it was a lot safer to have his girls at hospital than back at home.

It was going to be a long week.

[mithrilwren]

Ceremony

Wedding: You touch adult humanoids willing to be bonded together in marriage. For the next 7 days, each target gains a +2 bonus to AC while they are within 30 feet of each other. A creature can benefit from this rite again only if widowed.

Over the course of the Stolen Century, Barry and Lup shamelessly exploit a convenient magical loophole.

(Also on Ao3)

---

49.

Three months into the forty-ninth year, Barry turns to look at Lup. Her face is lit by the cascade of neon flashes from the frogs in the trees above, croaking their many-coloured song, and the air is cold on his tongue, and his hand is in hers as they walk through the night air. She notices him watching. She always does, and her eyes glint in amusement: purple and azure and green and gold.

“What’re you thinking?”

He takes a breath and says, “We’re going to get married, aren’t we?”

He says it not with nervous hesitation, but with the wonder of realization, like a child dazzled at their first snowfall. Lup’s smile is wicked, but the hand around his squeezes gently.

“Well, duh.”

And they do. Not that year, because Lup’s not having a wedding on the planet of radioactive frog slime, and Barry likes the evenness of 50 for an anniversary. It’s a nicer number than 49, at any rate. Some just are.

This world ends quietly. The Hunger comes and the whole crew, safe and sound aboard the Starblaster, watches from the bridge viewport as the neon lights that once sang amidst the blanket of leaves twinkle and then fade. Not even Taako, who’d spend the whole year cursing the frogs for disturbing his sleep, says a word.

None of them has ever seen silence fall before.

They all keep quiet, and still, and then they all fade too.

50.

The fiftieth year is spent planning. Lup tells Taako about their plan, and then Taako teases her about it in front of Magnus, who can’t contain his excitement long enough for damage control and suddenly the whole crew knows that this is the year they’re finally making it official, and they are pumped. Everyone is eager to sink into any strategizing endeavour that doesn’t involve thousands of lives, and preventing the destruction thereof.

Davenport and Magnus set to work chasing the light of creation on this new world, this fiftieth home – a vast oceania, with towns dotting the edges of the many archipelagos that make up the landmass of the planet. They find it easily enough in the rocky shoals of one of the smaller islands, before the locals can get too attached to the new meteorite in their bay. With that problem squared away, everyone’s attention is back on the wedding, and the first ever IPRE Party Planning Committee is brought to order.

Taako’s got the food on lock, because of course he does, but he also helps Lup pick a dress from one of the open-aired markets in town: a breezy lilac slip with golden threads that catch the highlights in her hair.

Lucretia gets all their paperwork in order in case they want to file properly when they get back to their own world or… well, in any case, it’s good to have a record. She’s also unofficially in charge of streamers, because nobody but her and Magnus are sufficiently inoculated towards slimy ocean creatures to spend their evenings weaving strands of shimmery seaweed into party decorations.

Davenport cozies up enough to the local mayor to score some fine liquor for toasts. He sneaks a few bottles extra into his quarters, for safekeeping.

Magnus works so hard. He spends every spare minute practicing his carving, getting ready for the main event. At first, he fills Fisher’s tank with progressively more detailed ducks – an attempt to sooth the loneliness of the now-orphaned child, as much as any other purpose. But soon he hides away in a little cave by the coast, only returning to the ship to retrieve more boughs from those he collected from the forests of the previous planet. He refuses to let anyone see what he’s making until it’s absolutely finished.

Merle… frets.

“I mean, you could just ask Davenport. I figure, since he’s the captain and all... Isn’t he, you know, vested with the powers that be?”

“We could,” Lup nods. “Or we could ask you. Like we just did.”

Merle rubs at the back of his neck, using every inch of height disparity to avoid looking at Lup and Barry’s eyes. “I’m not- are you really sure you want me doing this? Me?”

“Why not you?” Barry asks, genuinely curious.

“I know I’m like, a cleric...”

“Debatable!” chimes Taako from the other side of the wall, and Merle grits his teeth just a little harder.

“Not helping, dear brother mine!” Lup calls cheerfully, and shoots a subtle charm behind her back that stands the hair on Barry’s arm on end. Moments later, there’s a thud and a slew of curses, and Lup smiles. “You were saying?”

“I’ve honestly,” Merle lowers his voice in case Taako is still in earshot. “I’ve never done one of these before. It’s the type of thing they train you for when you’re fully initiated and I never got that far. There’s special words that you’re supposed to use to complete the bonding, and a spell, and I just… I don’t want to screw this up, ok?”

“Merle,” says Lup, bending at the waist till she’s on eye level with Merle’s flushed face. “There is nothing, nothing, that you could do on my wedding day that would make me happier than to completely fuck it up. Where’s the story in perfection? Where’s the pizzazz. Say the wrong words, blow something up! I live for uncertainty.”

“Please don’t actually blow anything up if you can help it, though-” Barry interjects.

“But if you do, I’ll be behind you, 100%. As I push you between me and any sparks that get too close to the bomb-ass dress Taako and I picked out.”

“Oh yes, I feel much better now,” Merle grumbles, but he also stops arguing, which means they’ve got the priest, which is really, the last thing they needed.

Lup and Barry get up one morning – a full two months before the Hunger’s arrival – and suddenly, it���s the day. Taako forces eggs and coffee down their throats, prescribing four hundred calories apiece before they’re allowed to get dressed. Merle picks wildflowers and lays them out in matching corsages on the breakfast table before rushing off to resume his muttered practicing. Davenport and Lucretia take them each aside and help them into their outfits, and Barry has never felt more nervous in his life than as he slips on the lightweight suit. Blue, to match the sea, and because he lives to meet expectations.

And then everyone else is outside, and they’re standing hand in hand, waiting to walk down from the open door of the ship, and Barry turns to look at Lup. “We’re getting married,” he manages to get out through his rapidly closing throat.

“Sure are, champ,” she says quietly.

It’s funny. He’d always figured he’d be the first one to cry.

Everyone’s waiting when they finally step through the door. Two thick streamers of seaweed form an aisle from the gangway to where Merle stands beneath Magnus’s project: a giant archway of hewn branches, twisting eagerly in an arc towards the sky. Whatever rough patches and nicks remain in the wood are covered by intertwining flowers, perfectly matched to the garlands around their wrists. On either side of the aisle, their friends sit cross-legged in the white sand: Taako and Davenport on one side, and Lucretia and Magnus on the other. Cradled in Magnus’s lap is Fisher, who hums cheerfully at the sunlight and the joy of living, probably.

They all end up sitting in the sand, even Merle, and it feels less like a ceremony than a congregation of friends sharing a lazy afternoon, and Barry wouldn’t have it any other way. Merle stumbles his way through his lines, but he manages all right in the end, or at least Barry assumes he does. He’s too busy staring at Lup to listen, committing every second of this perfect day to memory: her loose curls twisting in the breeze, her smudged mascara, her bare feet half-buried under the sand.

When he tunes back in, it’s to the last words of Merle’s benediction, and his chest swells with warmth and love and- that’s a little too much warmth, actually, and judging by the alarmed look on Lup’s face, she’s feeling the same strange glow in her chest.

“Well, shit,” Merle breathes. “It actually worked.” Before Barry can ask, he’s patting them both gleefully on the shoulder. “By the power invested in me, apparently, you’re now husband and wife! And also, you get a bonus week of Pan’s blessing – so now’s a good time to get into a boss fight I guess, if you’re itching for one.”

Barry doesn’t hear that last part too clearly. He’s too busy being shoved into the sand by his wife oh my god oh my god and kissed senseless.

Merle wasn’t lying about the blessing either. When they’re together, there’s this warmth of surety, like anyone or anything who tried to separate them would need a miracle to succeed. Magnus accidentally hucks a rock in Lup’s direction and it glances off her shoulder like a rubber ball. Barry stubs his toe on the edge of a reef and barely feels the sting. The warmth is strongest when they’re pressed against each other, every inch of them connected, and so they stay like that for three wonderful, magical days – never out of arm’s reach.

They go swimming, just the two of them, on the fourth day. Barry’s never been so pleased that Taako taught him as he is now. They’re just twirling together, treading water out past the dropoff, and the sky is growing dark when Lup says they might to head in, it’s getting chilly, darling, and then the hail starts to fall.

At first, there are only little pieces that ping in the water all around them, nipping at their bare shoulders like blackflies as they start to swim back. Then a great chunk of ice slams into the spot Barry’s outstretched hand was reaching towards. All around them a pounding rhythm picks up pace, and Lup starts muttering shit, shit as they double their speed. Through bleary, salt-drenched eyes Barry thinks he sees the shadow of a figure standing on the shore with arms outstretched, but he can’t hear what they’re calling over the wind and the waves and the relentless pounding in his ears. All he can hear is Lup and her desperate muttering as she tries to form a sigil in the air with the hand he isn’t desperately grasping, dragging along. With a cry, she sends a blast of force cascading out in a sphere around them, and for a moment, the roar of the sea and the storm disappear and it’s just the two of them in silence, clinging to each other-

And then red blooms behind Barry’s eyes and he’s sinking and with every foot he slips the water grows colder, or maybe it’s him that’s gone cold, without her. Or-

Or-

He wakes to find Lup already wrapped around him on the Starblaster deck, and the supernatural warmth of Pan’s blessing is gone but she’s safe and he’s alive and the press of her arms is enough for him any day.

She murmurs hoarsely, words meant only for his ears, and he can tell she’s crying even without seeing her face. “These last months, Barry… god, I missed you so much, you can’t even know-” He squeezes her shoulders and she sighs, before lifting her head and declaring to the room of equally tearful onlookers,

“This man had the nerve to fucking leave me in the middle of our honeymoon? That’s it, Barry Bluejeans.” Her smile is wet and determined and beautiful.

“I demand a do-over.”

51.

For Lup, the announcement is mostly a joke, but then everyone is… kind of on board and she… kind of very much wants them to be.

She got her perfect fairytale wedding once, and she doesn’t want – doesn’t need – to replace that, but to lose her husband three days after getting him? She’s imagined some pretty bleak futures in her time, and even the worst of them didn’t tip the scale to quite that depressing. They may have all eternity to cycle. Might as well try for the perfect fairytale honeymoon too.

The second wedding is a more rushed affair. The new planet comes with warring factions and a power struggle and the Light lost somewhere in the fray of muddy battlegrounds, and it takes all of their combined efforts to retrieve the thing before one despot or another can get their hands on it. By the time they do, they’ve got less than a month till the Hunger comes, and most of the crew are footsore and weary from the last push. In fact, Lup’s pretty sure it’s not going to happen at all. She doesn’t bring it up – no use adding one more mission to the pile – but it pulls at parts of her that she’d thought she buried, the memories of lonesome nights spent wondering if there was any happiness in the world that couldn’t be taken away.  

Against all expectations, the one who brings it up is Merle.

He comes and knocks at their door and she answers, and waits patiently for him to stop shuffling his feet. Which is to say, she patiently says, “Spit it the fuck out, Merle.”

“Well, uh, what day were you wantin’ the wedding to be? Now that we’ve got this whole situation under wraps, I thought you’d-”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish the thought with his head smothered in Lup’s shirt as she pulls him into a tight hug.

The roles are different now, but maybe they all are too. The years go by quicker, and they all seem a little older with each cycle, though their bodies stay the same. Lup likes to think the change is for the better.

Davenport finds a copse of trees somehow spared the ravages of war and they set down there, working to clear the area as quickly as possible. He coordinates decorations, not refugees, and his shoulders untense for the first time in six months.

Magnus apologizes for leaving the arch behind on the last world. The apology is for Barry’s benefit, not Lup’s, because Barry doesn’t need to know that no matter how hard Magnus had worked on it, and how much she wanted to spare his feelings, Lup couldn’t bear the sight of that arch after the night of the storm. She’s not sure what he did with his creation after she told him, but she never saw it again. Maybe it’s lying at the bottom of the same ocean that Barry- nope. That’s not a thought that needs to happen.

Taako hangs fairy lights from the eaves with his wand, and they all settle in on the newly-swept ground. The world around them couldn’t be more different than a seaside paradise, but they’re all still a congregation of friends. Merle is more comfortable this time around, even injecting a couple jokes into the stuffy liturgy, and though the overwhelming exhilaration of the first wedding is dampened, there’s an ease to the affair that’s new and welcome.  

Merle places his hands on their shoulders again and says, “By the power invested in me, blah blah, you know the drill-” He startles backwards, grey eyebrows flying up into his hairline as a familiar warmth settles back into Lup’s chest. She cocks her head.

“What’s up?”

He blinks. “It’s just… the spell. The blessing from Pan. It’s a one-time-per-couple deal. You’re not supposed to be able to place it twice on the same people, not unless…”

“Go on,” she says, as he greens, suddenly cagey.

“Well, there’s a clause in the case of… if someone is widowed. Then they can get it again. Usually that means with another person though-”

“I think our whole existence is an affront to the natural order. Let’s not sweat the technicalities.” And she pulls Barry in for a kiss, because he’s her husband, and because she can.

They barely leave their room for the next week. Lup won’t admit to being afraid of the moment shattering again, and Barry is similarly reticent, and so they talk about everything else in the world except death. Barry learns a bit more about Lup and Taako’s childhood, and he tells her about the cat he rescued from a garbage can near his university, and they read, and make love, and sleep, and wake up to find the other still there. The rest of the crew give their cabin a wide berth.

It’s not quite a fairytale, but it’s nice. And that’s more than good enough.

On the evening of the seventh day, Lup is lazily drawing patterns on a sleeping Barry’s shoulder when she feels the warmth in her chest begin to ebb. She digs her nails in and shakes, heart beating too fast all at once because no, this can’t be happening, it can’t, not again, until Barry flips over with a yawn and she regains control of her lungs.

“What’s up?” he asks, and then his eyes widen, hand going to his own chest. “Guess that’s that.”

“End of the honeymoon,” she says faintly. Her chest is cold, like swallowed seawater.

“Time to rejoin the world of the living?”

“…Nah,” she says, and burrows her head back into his shoulder. His heart thuds against her ear with a gentle pulse, and she slows her breathing to match its rhythm.

They stay like that, curled into each other, until the silence is replaced by the roar of engines and Davenport’s voice through the intercom. Liftoff. Everyone to their stations. Lup closes her eyes and pulls Barry back down when he tries to get up.

She’s never been good at following orders.

58.

“Do you honestly think I would abuse Pan’s divine favour for something this trivial?” Barry, Lup, the entire cosmos sideeyes Merle. “… Yeah, fair enough. Fine,” he sighs, resigned. “Where do you want me?”

It was actually Barry’s idea. The scientist within him was burning away at the question, and true to form, Lup was just as eager to test out the constraints of any new and interesting magic.

“We can do it right here, if you want,” Barry says, gesturing down at the galley table they’re all seated at. Well, that he and Merle at seated at – technically, Lup is seated on. From the other side of the room, Lucretia pricks her ears up, obviously interested in what they’re doing, but keeping her nose firmly buried in her book.

“What, no garlands and twinkles this time around?” Merle says.

“I’ve had two beautiful wedding days already. I’m ok with this one being quick and dirty,” Lup explains.

Merle rubs his hands together, mouth twitching nervously beneath his beard. “Well, alright then. I guess we’re doing this… now?”

“Not getting any younger,” Lup says, which is both so completely true and completely untrue that Barry’s head spins too much to make a joke out of it. “Hey, Luce! Got a sec?”

Lucretia pads quietly from the other side of the room, her book still propped open in the crook of her arm. “What’s going on?”

“Getting married again, darling,” Lup says sweetly, and tugs her down till she’s seated in the chair next to Barry. “Want to be our witness?”

She looks confused a moment, but then slowly nods. “Sure. I’d be honoured.”

“Great!” Lup reaches down from her perch and ruffles her hair, which only drags a small frown to Lucretia’s face. “Let’s do this!”

Merle skips straight to the good stuff this time around, getting the blessing out in practically one breath, and Barry readies himself to feel the warmth in his chest, and-

Nothing.

“Huh,” all three of them say at once.

“Maybe Pan’s taking a nap,” Merle says. “Want me to try again?” Lucretia flips a page in her book, settling in for the long haul.

They do try again, more slowly this time, and Merle repeats every work of the liturgy, and Barry and Lup say their entire vows, and again, nothing.

“Sorry. Guess I lost my juju.”

“No, this actually tells us something interesting,” Barry reassures him. “I’d be wondering what happened to us at the end of our cycles, whether we just die and get remade, or if we blink out of reality and reappear. If we actually died, I’d assume the blessing would be nullified. Since it’s not, we can rule out death as what’s happening at the end of each year.”

“That’s only sort-of comforting, babe,” Lup says, patting his arm.

“I’m hoping neither of you are planning on dying again, just so you can reap my holy tax benefits.”

“Never,” Lup promises, and Barry thinks it’s another joke, until he turns and looks at Lup’s face. Her mouth is set in a grim line. The hand on his shoulder tightens, then tightens again. “Not if I can help it.”

59.

“Barry. Darling. Love of my life.”

“What?” he says, as Lup pulls him into her arms, back on the deck of the Starblaster once more. This time there are no tears, but she looks a little more faded than he’s ever seen her.

“Please tell me you didn’t take that crossbow bolt for science.”

He puts a hand over his chest, where only a moment before there had been a bleeding hole.

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even answer. He just holds her close.

78.

They fucked up.

They fucked up, oh fuck oh f-

Lup tears her eyes away from Magnus’s limp body, sprawled across the obsidian floor mere feet from the Light, his torn shirt cast in hazy red from the streams of magma that cascade from the ceiling. Another rock breaks free and crashes to the floor, and Lup can’t see Taako anymore, she can’t see him she-

“Lup!” Barry’s hand catches her and drags her back as a spire falls onto the place she was standing, shattering into jagged shrapnel that bites at her calves and thighs. “We have to go!”

“Taako’s still-”

“Taako’s gone, Lup!”

And he is. She saw him take that fateful misstep. She saw where he fell.

Nobody, not even her, could survive that much fire.

Then run maybe ten paces before another rock crashes down in front of them and they have to pivot back towards where they came. She can’t see anyone anymore, not Davenport or Lucretia or Merle and why did they all come, why did they get this careless? Yes, the stones were heavy to move but someone should have stayed behind-

Another rock tumbles from the ceiling and smashes into Lup’s arm. She’s flung forward, nearly wrenched from Barry’s grip by the impact, half-sobbing from frustration. They can see the exit from here… but they aren’t going to make it. It’s just too far.

None of them are going to make it.

Oh, fuck.

They have to try. They have to. Even if everyone else is dead, they have to-

A hand, smaller than Barry’s, grabs her shirt by the tails and yanks her back towards the wall. She feels Barry moving in the same direction and they both slam into the stone at once, coming face to face with Merle’s sweat-stained face.

“What-” but he’s already chanting, eyes closed, muttering words too gentle for the horrific sounds of death and destruction as the room collapses around them, and when he finishes Lup’s chest warms, and warms, and she does sob now, because it feels good. It feels like hope, when there was none.

“Bring us home,” Merle says, and shoves the two of them towards the blackened cavern entrance. “Go!”

Lup tries to grab his hand but he shoves her away, and she and Barry take off running, bounding around projectiles with catlike grace as they move in sync, like they share the same body. She only looks back when their feet pass the threshold, and she sees Merle still standing there against the wall, watching them with a sad, relieved smile.

Another rock loosens. She hears the crack as it breaks away, but Lup turns before she can see where it lands.

82.

The night before the ritual, Merle takes the two of them aside.

“So,” he says. “You’re really going through with it.”

“Yeah, Merle,” says Lup. “We really are.”

He smiles, something tight and curling and frightened. “You’re sure there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” Lup smiles back. “Didn’t think so, but I had to ask.” He takes out his book, and both Barry and Lup frown in confusion as he flips it open to a familiar page. “One last time, for old time’s sake?”

They look at each other. “Why?” asks Barry. “Once we’re liches, I’m sure the spell will dissipate. I doubt it transfers between metaphysical bodies.”

Merle snorts out through his nose, then turns his head away, rubbing one heel of his hand against his cheek, just above the tufts of his white beard. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re probably right.” His voice goes husky near the middle, but he refinds its center before he turns back to them. “But this is what I can do, so if there’s even a chance that’ll it’ll help…”

“Then we’ll take it,” Lup says, grabbing Merle’s hand before he can close the book. “Shit. Thank you.”

“Thanks for what? I haven’t done nothing yet.”

“For everything.” She swallows. “For everything. And if this doesn’t work-”

“Lup-“ Barry warns.

“If this doesn’t work,” Lup continues. “I just need you to know that. Alright? You did everything you could.”

“What are you talking about?” Merle laughs. “Of course it’s going to work. I’ve done it five times now. Have a little more faith.” He looks at Lup, and she looks at him, and their shared gaze is warm, and understanding. “So don’t you worry, I’m going to take good care of both of you. That’s my job.”

“Thanks, Merle,” Barry says, echoing loops words, and Merle’s wobbling tone.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s do this.” He takes both their hands and places them on top of the book. “By the powers vested in me…”

Merle’s words fade out as Barry looks at Lup. Her brilliant eyes meet his, and even as the warmth swells, the look they share is one of farewell.

No matter what happens tomorrow, this’ll be the last time they share this.

But no matter what happens, they’re going to be together.

Come hell or high water, he’s never going to leave her alone again.

~&$(No DATE given@(*#

It’s cold up here, in the sky.

Barry wraps his jacket around Lup’s shoulders, and she leans in under his arm, swinging her legs to keep warm, or just to keep moving. Her bare feet flicker as the lights below pass by – a sparkling metropolis by the sea, and they can see it all from their perch on the last metal outcropping of the base: Neverwinter, in all its evening glory. After everything, impossibly, safe and sound.

Lup slides a little farther, sticking her big toe out as far as she can reach it, and suddenly the entire foot becomes buoyant, like it weighs nothing at all. Lup giggles at the sudden loss of gravity, and Barry redoubles his grip on the fluttering pages in his lap.

It figures, that Lucretia would have still had these. If there’s one thing she takes seriously, it’s her paperwork.

“What do’ya think?” Lup says. “If I spit, do you think it would hit someone, or would it just burn up in the atmosphere?” Before he gets a chance to answer, she hocks a loogie and lets it fly. They both watch the orb of spit vanish into the frosty air.

“It’s more likely that it’ll find its way back around the moon and land on someone up here.”

“Even better.” Lup grins, and Barry pulls her in all the tighter.

He’s missed this.

He’s missed so much, and this most of all.

“This feels silly,” he admits, shuffling through the papers. “I don’t even know why Lucretia wanted them in the first place. It’s not like we even officially exist anymore. Nobody’s going to come checking to see if our personnel records are up to date.”

“Yeah, but what Luce wants, Luce gets,” and there’s a bite to the words that wasn’t there before, and the air gets a little colder, and he shivers for the both of them.

Even with so many things mended, there are some they can’t undo.

Still, Lup’s voice softens as she takes the first page and holds it up to the light of the second moon, the real moon. “You sure you don’t want one last ceremony? Just for old times’ sake?”

He chuckles, imagining Merle’s face if they asked. “I’m good. All I want is you, at my side, forever and always.”

“That’s some corny shit, Bluejeans.” He shrugs, and she tucks her feet back up under her. “But you know I love it.” She puts the page back down onto the pile and pulls a pen out from behind her ear, then passes it to Barry. “So, what do you say? Will you make me an honest woman, officially?”

In every lifetime, in every moment, past and present, his answer has never changed.

“Yes. I will.”

He takes the pen and scribbles his name down on the dotted line, then passes the pen back. Lup adds her own signature to the other, and they both sit back, staring at the blocky letters of script at the top of the page.

Certificate of Marriage

No ceremony, no warmth, no mystical connection. They set the papers aside and kiss under the lights from above and below, and it’s only them, and that’s plenty. That’s all they need to be.

Forever and always, connected.